One would think fhe might like to retire
To the bow'r I have labour'd to rear;
Not a fhrub that I heard her admire,
But I hasted and planted it there.
Oh how fudden the jeffamine ftrove
With the lilac to render it gay!
Already it calls for my love,

To prune the wild branches away.

From the plains, from the woodlands and groves,
What strains of wild melody flow?
How the nightingales warble their loves

From thickets of roses that blow!
And when her bright form fhall appear,
Each bird fhall harmoniously join

In a concert fo foft and so clear,

As

she may not be fond to refign.

I have found out a gift for my fair;

I have found where the wood-pigeons breed: But let me that plunder forbear,

She will fay 'twas a barbarous deed.

For he ne'er could be true, fhe aver'd,

Who could rob a poor bird of its young:

And I lov'd her the more, when I heard

Such tenderness fall from her tongue.

I have

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I have heard her with sweetness unfold

How that pity was due to a dove:
That it ever attended the bold,

And the call'd it the fifter of love.
But her words fuch a pleasure convey,
So much I her accents adore,
Let her speak, and whatever she say,
Methinks I fhould love her the more.

Can a bofom fo gentle remain

Unmov'd, when her CORYDON fighs!
Will a nymph that is fond of the plain,
These plains and this valley despise?
Dear regions of filence and fhade!

Soft fcenes of contentment and ease!
Where I could have pleasingly stray'd,
If aught, in her abfence, could please.

But where does my PHYLLIDA ftray?

And where are her grots and her bow'rs?
Are the groves and the valleys as gay,
And the shepherds as gentle as ours?

The groves may perhaps be as fair,
And the face of the valleys as fine;
The fwains may in manners compare,
But their love is not equal to mine.

VOL. I.

III. SOL

III. SOLLICITUDE.

W

HY will you my paffion reprove? Why term it a folly to grieve? Ere I fhew you the charms of my love,

She is fairer than you can believe. With her mien fhe enamours the brave; With her wit she engages the free; With her modefty pleases the grave; She is ev'ry way pleasing to me.

O you that have been of her train,
Come and join in my amorous lays;
I could lay down my life for the swain,
That will fing but a fong in her praise.
When he fings, may the nymphs of the town
Come trooping, and liften the while;
Nay on him let not PHYLLIDA frown;
-But I cannot allow her to fmile.

For when PARIDEL tries in the dance
Any favour with PHYLLIS to find,
O how, with one trivial glance,
Might she ruin the peace of my mind!

In ringlets he dreffes his hair,

And his crook is be-ftudded around; And his pipe-oh may PHYLLIS beware

Of a magic there is in the found.

'Tis

Tis his in smooth tales to unfold, How her face is as bright as the snow, And her bofom, be fure, is as cold? w the nightingales labour the strain, With the notes of his charmer to vie; w they vary their accents in vain, Repine at her triumphs, and die.”

the grove or the garden he ftrays, And pillages every sweet;

en, fuiting the wreath to his lays
He throws it at PHYLLIS's feet.
O PHYLLIS, he whispers, more fair,
More fweet than the jeffamin's flow'r!
hat are pinks, in a morn, to compare?
What is eglantine, after a show'r?

men the lily no longer is white;

Then the rofe is depriv'd of its bloom;
hen the violets die with despight,

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

Let his crook be with hyacinths bound,
So PHYLLIS the trophy defpife;
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 ftranger to PARIDEL's tongue;
-Yet may fhe beware of his art,
Or fure I must envy the fong.

IV. DISAPPOINTMENT.

E fhepherds give ear to my lay,

YE

And take no more heed of my fheep:
They have nothing to do, but to stray;
I have nothing to do, but to weep.
Yet do not my folly reprove;

She was fair-and my paffion begun;
She fmil'd-and I could not, but love;
She is faithlefs-and I am undone.

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.

She