The trout, bedropt with crimson stains, "And fure I heard the Naiad fay, "Flow, flow, my ftream! this devious way; ૬. Though lovely foft thy murmurs are, "Thy waters, lovely cool and fair! "Flow, gentle stream! nor let the vain "Thy fmall unfully'd ftores difdain: III. On a small Building in the Gothic Taste. You that bathe in courtly blyffe! O tople in fortune's giddye spheare! Boo not too rashiye deeme ampfe Of him, that bydes contentid here. Moz yet disdeigne the ruffet stoate, Whyche o'er each carelesse lymbe he flyngs: Noz pet derpde the beechen bowle, In whyche he quaffs the Ipmpid spryngs. So may He pardonne fraud and strife,' If such in courtige haunt he'see : Foz faults there beene in buspe lyfe, From whyche these peacefull glennes are free. A Paftoral BALLAD, in Four Parts. Written 1743. By the Same. Arbufta bumilefque myrica. I. ABSENCE. I. E fhepherds fo cheerful and gay, YE VIRG Whose flocks never carelessly roam; Should Corydon's happen to ftray, Oh! call the poor wanderers home. Allow me to muse and to figh, Nor talk of the change that ye None once was fo watchful as I: find; -I have left my dear Phyllis behind. II. Now I know what it is, to have strove With the torture of doubt and defire; What it is, to admire and to love, And to leave her we love and admire. Ah Ah lead forth my flock in the morn, And the damps of each ev'ning repell; -I have bade my dear Phyllis farewell. Since Phyllis vouchfaf'd me a look, And I grieve that I priz'd them no more. But why do I languish in vain? Why wander thus penfively here? Oh! why did I come from the plain, dear? The pride of that valley, is flown ; V. When forc'd the fair nymph to forego, What anguish I felt at my heart! 1 Yet I thought-but it might not be fo→→ My path I could hardly discern; I thought that she bade me return. The pilgrim that journeys all day Is happy, nor heard to repine: Thus widely remov'd from the fair, Soft hope is the relique I bear, And folace wherever I go. M II. HOP E. I. Y banks they are furnish'd with bees, Whofe murmur invites one to sleep; And my hills are white-over with sheep. Such health do my fountains bestow; II. Not II. Not a pine in my grove is there seen, Not my fields, in the prime of the year, One would think fhe might like to retire Not a fhrub that I heard her admire, O how fudden the jeffamin strove Το prune the wild branches away. IV. From the plains, from the woodlands and groves, What ftrains of wild melody flow? How the nightingales warble their loves |