ARD is the heart that never knew to love,
He felt the pleafing anguish of defire.
Ye British maids, more fair than Venus' dove,
For you alone I tune my humble lyre;
Adopt me, nymphs, receive me in your quire,
Make me your bard; for that is all my care :
Then fhall I envy not that aged fire,
Who doth for court his annual fong prepare :
I lever myrtle wreath than Kesar's laurel wear.
II.
Think not because I write of Columbel
I thence would blast the sex with impious tale;
Tranfactions vile of foreign ftronds I tell,
Ne 'gainst a British female would I rail
For all the wealth that rolls on Indian grail.
Here, beauty, truth, and chastity are found;
Eleonora here, with vifage pale,
Did fuck the poifon from her Edward's wound,
And Anna's nuptial faith shall stond for aye renown'd.
III.
See the fair fwans on Thamis' lovely tide,
The which do trim their pennons filver bright,
In fhining ranks they down the waters ride;
Oft have mine eyes devour'd the gallant fight.
Then caft thy looks, with wonder and delight,
Where yon fweet nymphs enjoy the ev'ning air,
Some daunce along the green, like fairies light,
Some flow'rets cull to deck their flowing hair;
Then tell me, foothly, swain, which fight thou deem'st most
IV.
To you, bright stars, that sparkle on our isle,
I give my life, my fortune, and my fame;
For my whole guerdon grant me but a smile,
A fmile from you is all I hope or claim;⚫
Nor age's ice my ardent zeal shall tame,
To my life's end I shall your names adore,
Not hermits' bosoms feel so pure a flame,
Warm'd by approval I more high fhall foar:
Receive my humble lays, my heart was yours before,
V.
Should you confent, I'll quit my fhepherd's grey,
And don more graceful and more coftly gear,
My crook and fcrip I'll throw with fcorn away,
And in a famite garment ftreit appear.
Farewell, ye groves, which once I held fo dear;
Farewell, ye glens, I other joys pursue ;
Then shall the world your matchlefs pow'r revere,
And own what wonders your sweet fmiles can do,
That could a fimple clown into a bard transmew.
The Squire of Dames to Satyrane
His hiftory doth tell,
With all the toils he underwent
To gain his Columbel.
HE Squire of Dames his tale thus 'gan to tell;
Sith you command my tongue, fir Satyrane,
I now will all declare that me befell,
The cause of muchel scath and dol'rous pain,
Ne fhall thy gentle eye from tears refrain.
Me Columbel commanded far to go
"Till I fhould full three hundred nymphs, attain, Whose hearts should aye with Virtue's leffons glow, And to all fwains but one cry out for ever, No.
To find the fortilage that ne'er will yield
Is not an eafy matter, good fir Knight;
Troy town, they fay, is now a grass-grown field,
That long withstood the force of Grecian might;
And caftles fall tho' deep in earth empight;
Ne ought fo ftrong is found but what may fail,
The fun at last shall lofe his glorious light,
And vows or bribes o'er women may prevail;
Their hearts are made of flesh, and mortal flesh is frail.
III.
With heavy heart, and full of cark I go
And take my congé of my blooming maid,
I kifs'd her hond, and, louting very low,
To her beheft at length myself array'd:
The fair we love expects to be obey'd,
Altho' fhe bid us with the keftrel fly;
So forth I prick, tho' much by doubt dismay'd,
The hard experiment refolv'd to try:
For she was wond'rous fair, and much in love was I.
grove I reach'd, where tuneful throftles fung,
The linnet here did ope his little throat,
His twitting jefts around the cuckoo flung,
And the proud goldfinch fhow'd his painted coat,
And hail'd us with no inharmonious note:
The robin eke here tun'd his fonnet fhrill,
And told the foothing ditty all by rote,
How he with leaves his pious beak did fill,
To fhroud thofe pretty babes, whom Sib unkind would kill.
And many a fair Narciffus deck'd the plain,
That feem'd anew their perfons to admire;
Here Ajax told his dolors o'er again,
And am'rous Clytie ficken'd with defire ;
Here the blown rofe her odors fweet did spire ;
Thro' the dun grove a murm'ring river led
His chrystal streams that wound in many a gyre;
The baleful willow all the banks bespread,
And ever to the breeze ycurl'd his hoary head.
Soon to the grove there came a lovely maid,
For maiden fure she did to me appear,
In plain check-laton was the nymph array'd,
Her sparkling eyes stood full of many a tear,
And she bewept the abfence of her dear.
Alas! fhould beauty be to woe ally'd?
Beauty, methinks, fhould meet with better cheer,
Content should never wander from her fide;
Good luck, I pray to heav'n, the face that's fair betide.
VII.
"Ah! woe is me, fhe cry'd, fince Colin's fled,
"Whofe gentle prefence did these plains adorn,
"Soon was he ravish'd from the nuptial bed,
"Torn from thefe arms, from his dear leman torn!
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