As droops the woodbine, when fome village hind
Hath fell'd the fapling elm it fondly bound
No more it gadding dances in the wind,

But trails its fading beauties on the ground:

So droops my foul, dear maid, downcast and sad,
For ever! ah! for ever torn from thee;

Bereft of each sweet hope, which once it had,
When love, when treacherous love first smil'd on me.

Return bleft days, return ye laughing hours,
Which led me up the roseat steep of youth;
Which strew'd my simple path with vernal flow'rs,

And bade me court chafte Science and fair Truth.

Ye know, the curling breeze, or gilded fly
That idly wantons in the noon-tide air,
Was not fo free, was not fo gay as I,

For ah! I knew not then or love, or care.

Witness ye winged daughters of the year,
If e'er a figh had learnt to heave my breast!
If e'er my cheek was confcious of a tear,
'Till Cynthia came and rob'd my foul of reft!

O have you seen, bath'd in the morning dew,
The budding rofe its infant bloom display;
When firft its virgin tints unfold to view,
It shrinks and scarcely trusts the blaze of day.

So foft, fo delicate, fo fweet fhe came,

Youth's damak glow juft dawning on her cheek: I gaz'd, I figh'd, I caught the tender flame, Felt the fond pang, and droop'd with paffion, weak.

Yet not unpitied was my pain the while;
For oft befide yon sweet-briar in the dale,
With many a blush, with many a melting smile,
She fate and liften'd to the plaintive tale.

Ah me! I fondly dreamt of pleasures rare,

Nor deem'd fo fweet a face with scorn could glow; How could you cruel then pronounce despair,

Chill the warm hope, and plant the thorn of woe?

What though no treasures canker in my cheft,
Nor crowds of fuppliant vaffals hail me lord!
What though my roof can boast no princely guest,

Nor furfeits lurk beneath my frugal board!

Yet

Yet fhould Content, that fhuns the gilded bed,
With smiling Peace, and Virtue there forgot,
And rofe-lip'd Health, which haunts the straw-built shed,
With cherub Joy, frequent my little cot:

Led by chafte Love, the decent band should come,
O charmer would'st thou deign my roof to fhare?
Nor fhould the Mufes fcorn our fimple dome,
Or knit in myftic dance, the Graces fair.

The wood-land nymphs, and gentle fays, at eve
Forth from the dripping cave and moffy dell,
Should round our hearth fantastic measures weave,

And shield from mischief by their guardian spell.

Come then bright maid, and quit the city throng,
Have rural joys no charm to win the foul?

She proud, alas! derides my lowly song,
Scorns the fond vow, and spurns the ruffet stole.

Then Love begone, thy thriftlefs empire yield,
In youthful toils I'll lofe the unmanly pain:
With echoing horns I'll roufe the jocund field,
Urge the keen chace, and sweep along the plain.

Or

Or all in fome lone mofs-grown tow'r fublime

With midnight lamp I'll watch pale Cynthia round, Explore the choiceft rolls of ancient Time,

And heal with Wisdom's balm my hapless wound.

Tells me that stubborn love disdains to yield;

Nor flight, nor Wifdom's balm can heal the wound, Nor pain forfake me in the jocund field.

S.

CE

By Mr. ALSO P.

EASE, Chlorinda, cease to chide me,
When my paffion I relate:

Why fhould kindness be denied me?
Why fhould love be pay'd with hate?

If the fruit of all my wishes

Must be, to be treated so;

What could you do more than this is

To your most outrageous foe?

C. Simple

C. Simple Strephon, cease complaining,
Talk no more of foolish love;

S.

Think not e'er my heart to reign in,
Think not all you say can move.

Did I take delight to fetter

Thrice ten thousand flaves a day,

Thrice ten thousand times your betters
Gladly would my rule obey.

Strive not, faireft, to unbind me;

Let me keep my pleasing chain :
Charms that first to love inclin'd me,
Will for ever love maintain.

Would you fend my heart a roving?
First to love I must forbear.
Would you have me cease from loving?
You must cease from being fair.

C. Strephon, leave to talk thus idly;
Let me hear of love no more:

You mistake Chlorinda widely,

Thus to teize her o'er and o'er.

Seek