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With her mien she enamours the brave;

With her wit lhe engages the free; · With her modesty pleases the grave;

She is every way pleasing to me.

II.

O you that have been of her train,

Come and join in my amorous lays ; I could lay down my life for the swain

That will sing but a song in her praise. When he sings, may the nymphs of the town

Come trooping, and listen the while;
Nay on Him let not Phyllida frown;
But I cannot allow her to smile.

III.
For when Paridel tries in the dance

Any favour with Phyllis to find,
O how, with one trivial glance,

Might she ruin the peace of my mind ! In ringlets He dresses his hair,

And his crook is be-studded around; And his pipe --- oh may Phyllis beware:

Of a magic there is in the found.

IV. 'Tis . IV. 'Tis His with mock passion to glow;

'Tis His in smooth tales to unfold, “ How her face is as bright as the snow,

“ And her bosom, be sure, is as cold; “ How the nightingales labour the strain,

“ With the notes of his charmer to vie: “ How they vary their accents in vain,

“Repine at her triumphs, and die.",

V.

To the grove or the garden he strays,

And pillages every sweet;
Then, fuiting the wreath to his lays

He throws it at Phyllis's feet.
“ O Phyllis, he whispers, more fair,

“More sweet than the jesfainin’s flow'r ! “What are pinks, in a morn, to compare? “What is eglantine after a show'r ?

VI. “ Then the lily no longer is white;

“ Then the rose is deprivd of its bloom; “ Then the violets die with despight,

F. And the wood-bines give up their perfume."

Thus

Thus glide the soft numbers along,
And he fancies no shepherd his peer;

Yet I never should envy the song,
Were not Phyllis to lend it an ear.

: . VII.
Let his crook be with hyacinths bound,

So Phyllis the trophy despise ;
Let his forehead with laurels be crown'd,

So they shine not in Phyllis's eyes.
The language that flows from the heart
Is a stranger to Paridel's tongue;
Yet may she beware of his art,
Or sure I must envy the song.
IV. DISAPPOINTMENT,

I.
V E shepherds give ear to my lay,

1 And take no more heed of my fheep: They have nothing to do, but to stray;

I have nothing to do, but to weep. Yet do not my folly reprove;

She was fair and my paffion begun She smild and I could not but love;

She is faithlefs and I am undone.

II. Perhaps

II.

Perhaps I was void of all thoughts

Perhaps it was plain to foresee,
That a nymph so compleat would be fought

By a swain more engaging than me.
Ah! love every hope can inspire :

It banishes wisdom the while ;
And the lip of the nymph we admire
Seems for ever adorn'd with a smile.

- III.
She is faithless, and I am undone ;

Ye that witness the woes I endure, Let reason instruct you to fhun

What it cannot instruct you to cure.
Beware how ye loiter in vain

Amid nymphs of an higher degree :
It is not for me to explain
How fair, and how fickle they be.

IV.
Alas! from the day that we met,

What hope of an end to my woes?
When I cannot endure to forget

The glance that undid my repose.

Yct

Yet time may diminish the pain :

The flow'r, and the shrub, and the tree,
Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain,
In time may have comfort for me.

V.
The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose,

The sound of a murmuring stream,
The peace which from solitude flows,

Henceforth shall be Corydon's theme.
High transports are shewn to the fight,

But we are not to find them our own;
Fate never bestow'd such delight,
As I with my Phyllis had known.

VI.
Oye woods, spread your branches apace ;

To your deepest recesses I Aly;
I would hide with the beasts of the chace;

I would vanish from every eye.
Yet my reed shall resound through the grove

With the same sad complaint it begun;
How she smild, and I could not but love;

Was faithless, and I am undone !

INDEX

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