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SONG XVIII. Imitated from the French.
ES, these are the scenes where with Iris I stray'd
But short was her sway for so lovely a maid !
Yes, these are the meadows, the shrubs and the plains; Once the scene of my pleasures, the scene of
my pains; How many soft moments I spent in this grove ! How fair was my nymph! and how fervent my love! Be still tho', my heart ! thine emotion give o'er; Remember, the season of love is no more,
With her how I stray'd amid fountains and bow'rs,
HY o'er the verdant banks of ooze
Does yonder halcyon speed so fast; 'Tis all because she would not lose
Her fav’rite calm that will not last.
The sun with azure paints the skies,
The ftream reflects each Aow'ry, spray; And frugal of her time, she fies
To take her fill of love and play.
See her, when rugged Boreas blows,
Warm in some rocky cell remain ; To seek for pleasure, well she knows,
Would only then enhance the pain.
Descend, she cries, thou hated show'r,
Deform my limpid waves to-day,
fill of love and play.
You too, my Silvia, fure will own
Life’s azure seasons swiftly roll:
To think of love but shocks the soul.
Could Damon but deserve thy charms,
As thou art Damon's only theme ;
As yonder halcyon skims the stream.
Mr Shenstone wrote a Pan
He foregoing Verses, the laddiné ot which
As yonder kitter skims the cream. is was amon goi-hit Keities and per: haps desa
O D E.
O dear my Lucio is to me,
So well our minds and tempers blend;
And ne'er divide me from my friend;
O Lycon, born when every muse, ,
When every grace benignant smild, With all a parent's breast could chuse
To bless her loy'd, her only child ; 'Tis thine, so richly grac’d to prove More noble cares, than cares of love.
Together we from early youth
Have trod the flowery tracks of time, Together mus'd in search of truth,
O’er learned fage, or bard sublime ; And well thy cultur’d breast I know, What wonderous treasure it can show.
Come then, resume thy charming lyre,
And sing some patriot's worth sublime,
Consume my fair and fruitless prime;
O come! the dryads of the woods
Shall daily soothe thy studious mind,
Shall meet and court thee to be kind;
Like me, the plover fondly tries
To lure the sportsman from her nest,
Too plainly shews her tortur'd breast :