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'Tis His with mock paffion to glow;
'Tis His in fmooth tales to unfold,
"How her face is as bright as the fnow,
"And her bofom, be fure, is as cold?
"How the nightingales labour the ftrain,
"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 ftrays,
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 fweet than the jessamin's flow'r! "What are pinks, in a morn, to compare? "What is eglantine, after a fhow'r?

VI.

"Then the lily no longer is white;

"Then the rofe is depriv'd of its bloom;

"Then the violets die with despight,

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

Thus glide the foft numbers along,

And he fancies no fhepherd his peer;

Yet I never should envy the fong,

Were not Phyllis to lend it an ear.

VII. Let

VII.

Let his crook be with hyacinths bound,
So Phyllis the trophy despise;

Let his forehead with laurels be crown'd,
So they fhine not in Phyllis's eyes.
The language that flows from the heart
Is a stranger to Paridel's tongue;
-Yet may fhe beware of his art,
Or fure I must envy the song.

IV. DISAPPOINTMENT.

I.

E fhepherds give ear to my lay,

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

I have nothing to do, but to weep,

Yet do not my folly reprove;

-and my paffion begun ; -and I could not but love;

She was fair

She is faithlefs

She fmil'd

-and I am undone.

II.

Perhaps I was void of all thought;

Perhaps it was plain to foresee,

That a nymph fo compleat would be fought
By a fwain more engaging than me.
Ah! love ev'ry hope can infpire:

It banishes wisdom the while;

And the lip of the nymph we admire
Seems for ever adorn'd with a smile.

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III.

She is faithlefs, and I am undone;
Ye that witness the woes I endure,
Let reafon inftruct you to fhun

What it cannot inftruct 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.
Yet time may diminish the pain :

The flow'r, and the fhrub, and the tree, Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain,

In time may have comfort for me.

V.

The fweets of a dew-fprinkled rofe,

The found of a murmuring stream, The peace which from folitude flows, Henceforth fhall be Corydon's theme. High tranfports are fhewn to the fight, But we are not to find them our own; Fate never beftow'd fuch delight,

As I with my Phyllis had known.

VI. O

VI.

Oye woods, fpread your branches apace; To your deepest receffes I fly;

I would hide with the beafts of the chace; I would vanish from every eye.

Yet

my reed fhall refound thro' the grove With the fame fad complaint it begun; How fhe fmil'd, and I could not but love; Was faithlefs, and I am undone !

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Penshurst

To the Hon. Wilmot Vaughan, Efq; in Wales
Epiftle to Sir Thomas Hanmer

Song

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Verfes written in a Garden

Anfwer to a Love Letter

Anfwer to a Lady who advis'd Retirement

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Addrefs

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