Each fhepherd pursues me, but all is in vain: No more will I forrow, no longer despair,

He's fure fent from heav'n to lighten my care!

151

Too plain, dear youth, thefe tell-tale eyes
My heart your own declare;
But, for heaven's fake, let it fuffice,
You reign triumphant there.

Forbear your utmost pow'r to try,
Nor further urge your fway;
Prefs not for what I must deny,
For fear I fhould obey.

But could your arts fuccefsful prove,
Would you a maid undo,
Whofe greateft failing is her love,
And that her love for you?

Say, would you ufe that very pow'r
You from her fondness claim,
To ruin in one fatal hour

A life of fpotless fame?
Ah! ceafe, my dear, to do an ill,
Becaufe perhaps you may;
But rather try your utmost skill
To fave me, than betray.

Be you yourself my virtue's guard,
Defend, and not pursue,

Since 'tis a task for me too hard
To ftrive with love and you.

Yet flily culls the blushing rofe,

His quinteffence of fweets.
So Thyrfis, when in wanton play,
From fair to fair you fondly ftray,
And steal from each a kifs;
It shows, if what you fay be true,
A fickly appetite in you,

And no fubftantial blifs.

For you, inconftant, roving swain,
Tho' feemingly you hug your chain,
Would fain, I know, get free;
To fip fresh balmy fweets of love,
From bower te bower wildly rove,
And imitate the bee.

Then calm that flutt'ring thing, your heart,
Let it admire no other dart;

But reft with me alone:

For while, dear Bee, you rove and fing,
Should you return without your fting,
I'd not protect a drone.

Ye winds, your bluft'ring fury leave; Like airs that o'er the garden fweep, Breath foft in fighs, and gently heave

The calm, fmooth bofom of the deep. Till, halcyon peace return'd once more, From blafts fecure, and hoftile harms, My failor views his native shore,

And harbours fafe in thefe fond arms.

155

YOUNG Colin feeks my heart to move,
And fighs, and talks fo much of love,
(He'll hang or drown, I fear it)
Of pangs, and wounds, and pointed darts,
Of Cupid's bow, and bleeding hearts,
I vow I cannot bear it.

He fays I'm pretty mighty well;
And witty too that's better ftill;
And fenfible, I fwear it :

But words, you know, are nought but wind;
Unless he'll freely tell his mind,

I vow I cannot bear it.

The shepherd dances blythe and gay,
And fweetly on his pipe can play ;

I own I like to hear it :

But downcaft looks, and hums and haws;
So badly plead a lover's cause,

I vow I cannot bear it.

I with fome friendly nymph of swain
Would bid the bafhful boy fpeak plain,
(I wonder he should fear it)
I'd then take courage, like my fex,
The honeft youth no more to vex,
But wed him, I declare it.

156
BRIGHT Sol is return'd, the winter is o'er,
His all-cheering beams do nature restore;
The cowflip and daify, the vi'let and rofe,

Each garden, each orchard, does fragrance difclofe;
The birds chearful notes are heard in each grove,
All nature confeffes the season of love,

The nymphs and the shepherds come tripping amain,
All haften to join in the sports of the plain;
Our rural diverfions are free from all guile,
The face that is honeft fecurely can smile;
The heart that's fincere in affection may prove
All nature's force theweth the feafon of love.

O come then, Philander, with Sylvia away,
Our friends that expect us accufe our delay;
Let's hate to the village, the fports to begin;.
I'll ftrive, for my fhepherd, the garland to win:
But fee his approach, whom my heart does approve,
Who makes ev'ry hour the feason of love.

157

DEAR Colin prevent my warm blushes,
Since how can I fpeak without pain?
My eyes have oft told you my wishes,
O! can't you their meaning explain ?
My paffion would lofe by expreffion,

And you too might cruelly blame;
Then don't you expect a confeffion,
Of what is too tender to name.
Since your's is the province of speaking,

Why should you expect it from me?
Our wishes fhould be in our keeping,
Till you tell us what they fhould be.
Then quickly why don't you difcover?
Did your heart feel fuch tortures as mine,
Eyes need not tell over and over.
What I in my bofom confine.

162

WHAT fadness reigos over the plains!
How droop the fweet flow'rets around!
ow penfive each nymph and each f'wain!
How filent each mufical found!
o more the foft lute, in the bow'rs,
Beguiles the cool ev'nings away;
d fighs measure out the long hours,
Since Damon has wander'd away.
he was our village's pride;
This change from his abience is feen;
'was he that our mufic fupply'd,
When gayly we danc'd on the green;
t hearing, at wake, and at fair,
How jovial and frolic were we!
it now ev'ry feaft in the year
Is joyless as joyless can be.

a! why did he venture from home,
To m'x among hoftile alarm:?
o juftice oblig'd him to roam,
Or take up those terrible arms:
Et thofe who are cruel and rough,
Be heedlefs of life and of limb;
The coun ry had foldiers enough,
Nor needed one gentle like hims
There'er the adventurer goes,
On land or the dangerous main,
ind heaven protect him from woes,
And give him to Celia again.
h! give him to Celia again;
My true-love in safety restore;
lceafe on his breaft to complain,

From my arms he fhould wander no more,

Let not beauty make you vain,
Men of worth deserve your care;
Never give a lover pain,

If you find his heart fincere.
When the shepherds, &c.

Love, the fource of ev'ry joy,

Afks whatever we can give ; Love should ev'ry hour employ, 'Tis for love alone we live. When the shepherds, &c.

164 STREPTON, when you fee me fly,

Let not this your fear create,
Maids may be as often shy

Out of love as out of hate;
When from you I fly away,
It is because I dare not stay.
Did I out of hatred run

Lefs you'd be my pain and care;} But the youth I love, to fhun,

Who can fuch a trial bear? Who that fuch a swain did fee, Who could love and fly like me? Cruel duty bids me go,

2

Gentle love commande me ft ; Duty's ftill to love a foe,

Shall I this or that obey? Duty frowns, and Cupid fmiles; That defends, and this beguiles.

Ever by these crystal streams

I could fit and hear thee figh, Ravish'd with these pleafing dreams, O'tis worse than death to fly: But the danger is so great, Fear gives wings, instead of hate.

Strepbon, if you love me, leave me, If you ftay I am undone;

G

Oh! with eafe you may deceive me, Prithee charming (wain be gone. Heav'n decrees that we fhould part, That has my vows, but you my heart.

165

ON a bank, befide a willow,
Heaven her covering, earth her pillow,
Sad Aminta figh'd alone:
From the chearless dawn of morning,
Till the dews of night returning,
Singing, thus he made her moan;
Hope is banifh'd,
Joys are vanish'd,
Damon, my belov'd, is gone.
Time, I dare thee to difcover
Such a youth, and fuch a lover,
Oh! fo true, fo kind was he!
Damon was the pride of nature,
Charming in his every feature,
Damon liv'd alone for me;
Melting kiffes,
Murmuring bliffes,
Who fo liv'd and lov'd as we
Never fhall we curfe the morning,
Never blefs the night returning,

Sweet embraces to restore;
Never fhall we both lie dying,
Nature failing, love fupplying

All the joys he drain'd before;
Death, come end me,
To befriend me;
Love and Damon are no more!

Now fountains, echoes, all be dumb;
For fhould I coft my fwain a tear,
I should repent it in my tomb,

And grieve I bought my reft fo dear.

167

BOAST not, miftaken fwain, thy art
To please my partial eyes;

The charms that have fubdu'd my heart
Another may defpite.

Thy face is to my humour made,
Another it may fright;

Perhaps, by fome fond whim betray'd,
In oddnefs I delight.

Vain youth, to your confufion, know,
'Tis to my love's excess
You all your fancy'd beauties owe,

Which fade as that grows lefs,
For your own fake, if not for mine,
You should preferve my fire,
Since you, my fwain, no more will shine,
When I no more admire.

By me indeed you are allow'd

The wonder of your kind;
But be not of my judgment proud,
Whom love has render'd blind.