Hark to yonder milk-maid finging, Never yet did courtly maiden Would indulgent heav'n had granted All the empire I had wanted Then had been my shepherd's heart. Then, with him, o'er hills and mountains, Fearless tafte the crystal fountains ; Peaceful fleep beneath the grove. Rufticks had been more forgiving; VERSES VERSES written towards the close of the Year 1748. to WILDIAM LYTTELTON, Efq; By the Same. "OW blithely pass'd the fummer's day! HOW How bright was every flow'r! While friends arriv'd, in circles gay, To vifit Damon's bow'r. But now, with filent ftep, I range And Damon's bow'r, alas the change! Is Away to crowds and cities borne In queft of joy they steer; O penfive Autumn! how I grieve Ah let me not, with heavy eye, Hafte, Winter, hafte; ufurp the sky; Y 4 Ill can I bear the motley caft At home unbleft, I gaze around, Tho' Thomson, fweet defcriptive bard! Yet how should we the months regard, Ah luckless months, of all the rest, And fee, the swallows now difown The roofs they lov'd before; The wood-nymph eyes, with pale affright, To drown the mufe's reed. Ye Ye fields with blighted herbage brown! Too much we feel from fortune's frown, Where is the mead's unfullied green? And where sweet friendship's cordial mien, What tho' the vine disclose her dyes, And boast her purple store; He! he is gone, whose moral strain He! he is gone, whose focial vein Fast by the streams he deign'd to praise, In yon' fequefter'd grove, To him a votive urn I raise; To him, and friendly love, Yes there, my friend! forlorn and fad, There There fhall my plaintive fong recount There leaves, in spite of Autumn, green, But no kind funs will bid me fhare, **** SONG S. By the Same. I. N a vale fring'd with woodland, where grottos abound, IN And rivulets murmur, and echoes refound, I vow'd to the Muses my time and my care; Since neither could win me the fmiles of my fair, As freedom infpir'd me, I rang'd and I fung; |