SONG XVI. DAPHNE'S Vifit.
E birds! for whom I rear'd the grove,
With melting lay falute my love: My DAPHNE with
your notes detain: Or I have rear'd my grove in vain.
Ye flow'rs! before her footsteps rife;
Display at once your brightest dyes;
That the your opening charms may fee:
Or what were all your charms to me?
Kind Zephyr! brush each fragrant flow'r,
And shed its odours round my bow'r :
Or never more, O gentle wind,
Shall I, from thee, refreshment find,
Ye ftreams! if e'er your banks I lov'd,
If e'er your native founds improv❜d,
May each soft murmur foothe my fair:
Or oh! 'twill deepen my despair.
And thou, my grot! whofe lonely bounds
The melancholy pine furrounds,
May DAPHNE praise thy peaceful gloom;
Or thou fhalt prove her DAMON's tomb.
SONG XVII. Written in a Collection
of BACCHANALIAN SONGS.
DIEU, ye jovial youths, who join
To plunge old care in floods of wine;
And, as your dazled eye-balls roll,
Difcern him ftruggling in the bowl.
Not yet is hope fo wholly flown,
Not yet is thought fo tedious grown,
But limpid ftream and fhady tree
Retain, as yet, some sweets for me.
And fee, thro' yonder filent grove,
See yonder does my DAPHNE rove:
With pride her foot-steps I pursue,
And bid your frantic joys adieu.
The fole confufion I admire,
Is that my DAPHNE's eyes infpire:
I fcorn the madness you approve,
And value reason next to love.
SONG XVIII. Imitated from the FRENCH.
ES, these are the scenes where with Iris I stray'd
But short was her fway for fo lovely a maid!
In the bloom of her youth to a cloyfter fhe run;
In the bloom of her graces, too fair for a nun!
Ill-grounded, no doubt, a devotion must prove
So fatal to beauty, fo killing to love!
Yes, these are the meadows, the fhrubs and the plains;
Once the scene of my pleasures, the scene of my pains;
How many foft moments I spent in this grove!
How fair was my nymph! and how fervent my love!
Be ftill tho', my heart! thine emotion give o'er;
Remember, the feafon of love is no more.
With her how I ftray'd amid fountains and bow'rs,
Or loiter'd behind and collected the flow'rs!
Then breathlefs with ardor my fair-one purfu'd,
And to think with what kindness my garland fhe view'd!
But be ftill, my fond heart! this emotion give o'er;
Fain wouldst thou forget thou must love her no more.
WHY o'er the verdant banks of ooze
Does yonder halcyon speed so fast;
'Tis all because she would not lofe Her fav'rite calm that will not last.
The fun with azure paints the skies,
The ftream reflects each flow'ry spray;
And frugal of her time, the flies
To take her fill of love and play.
See her, when rugged Boreas blows,
Warm in fome rocky cell remain ;
To feek for pleasure, well fhe knows,
Would only then enhance the pain.
Defcend, fhe cries, thou hated show'r,
Deform my limpid waves to-day,
For I have chose a fairer hour
To take my fill of love and play.
You too, my SILVIA, fure will own
Life's azure seasons swiftly roll :
And when our youth, or health is flown,
To think of love but fhocks the foul.
Could DAMON but deferve thy charms,
As thou art DAMON's only theme;
He'd fly as quick to DELIA's arms,
As yonder halcyon fkims the ftream.
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