Nor unregarded fighs the lowly hind; And vengeance, too fevere! the gods allow. On SARUM's plain I met a wand'ring fair; The look of forrow, lovely ftill, fhe bore: Oft stooping as she stray'd, fhe cull'd the pride And still her hand fome various garland wove. Erroneous fancy fhap'd her wild attire ; From BETHLEM's walls the poor lympatic stray'd; Seem'd with her air her accent to conspire, When, as wild fancy taught her, thus she said. "Hear me, dear youth! oh hear an hapless maid, The world is frantic-fly the race profane- Come friendly let us wander, and complain, And tell me, shepherd! haft thou seen my love? My My love is young-but other loves are youngs He is my love, who boasts that air divine. No vulgar DAMON robs me of my rest, A prince, from gods defcended, fires her breaft; What, fhall I ftain the glories of my race? See thro' thefe veins the faphire current shine! The painter ftrove to trace its azure ray; He chang❜d his colours, and in vain he ftrove; He frown'd-I fmiling view'd the faint effay; Poor youth! he little knew it flow'd from Jove. Pitying his toil, the wond'rous truth I told; Yes, Yes, from the gods, from earliest Saturn, fprung Oft, when a mortal vow profanes my ear, Have you not heard unwonted thunders roll! Have you not feen more horrid light'nings glare! 'Twas then a vulgar love enfnar'd my foul; 'Twas then-I hardly fcap'd the fatal fnare. 'Twas then a peafant pour'd his amorous vow, Yet fuch his beauty-wou'd my birth allow, But oh! I faint! why waftes my vernal bloom, When last I flept, methought, my ravish'd eye, O how O how this bofom kindled at the fight! Led by their beams I urg'd the pleasing chace; Till, on a fudden, these with-held their light— All, all things envy the fublime embrace. But now no more-behind the distant grove, Wanders my deftin'd youth, and chides my ftay; See, fee, he grafps the steel-forbear, my love— IANTHE Comes; thy princess haftes away.". Scornful she spoke, and heedless of reply Ah me! the victim of her proud disdain! ELEGY EL EGY XVII. He indulges the fuggeftions of Spleen: an elegy to the winds. Eole, namque tibi divum pater atque hominum rex TERN monarch of the winds, admit my pray❜r! STE Awhile thy fury check, thy ftorms confine! No trivial blast impells the paffive air, But brews a tempeft in a breast like mine. What bands of black ideas fpread their wings! I know their leader, fpleen; and dread the fway Thro' one my bloffoms and my fruits decay; Like fome pale ftripling, when his icy way Where |