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appear bard beauty beneath bloom boaſt boſom bower breaſt bright charms Damon dear delight diſplay Ev’n face fair fame fancy fate fear fields figh fire flame flow flowers fond fortune gentle give glow gold grace grove hand hear heart hill hope hour kind maid mind mournful Muſe muſt native nature ne'er never nymph o'er once pain paint peace plain pleas'd pleaſe pleaſure praiſe pride riſe roſe round rural ſaw ſcenes ſcorn ſee ſeen ſhade ſhall ſhare ſhe ſhine ſhore ſhould ſmile ſoft ſome ſong ſons ſoon ſoul ſound ſtrain ſtream ſuch ſure ſwain ſweet taſte tear tender thee theſe thine thoſe thou toils train tuneful Twas vain vale virtue voice wealth whoſe wild wind wiſh youth
277 ページ - And work the simple vassals mickle woe; For not a wind might curl the leaves that blew, But their limbs...
154 ページ - Alas ! from the day that we met What hope of an end to my woes ? When I cannot endure to forget The glance that undid my repose. Yet time may diminish the pain : The flower, and the shrub, and the tree, Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain, In time may have comfort for me.
280 ページ - And pungent radish, biting infant's tongue ; And plantain ribb'd, that heals the reaper's '.• wound; And marj'ram sweet, in shepherd's posie found; And lavender, whose spikes of azure bloom Shall be, erewhile, in arid bundles bound, To lurk amidst the labours of her loom, And crown her kerchiefs clean, with mickle rare , perfume.
147 ページ - I fed on the smiles of my dear ? They tell me, my favourite maid, The pride of that valley, is flown ; Alas ! where with her I have stray'd I could wander with pleasure, alone.
150 ページ - I have heard her with sweetness unfold How that pity was due to a dove, That it ever attended the bold ; And she call'd it the sister of love. But her words such a pleasure convey, So much I her accents adore, Let her speak, and whatever she say, Methinks, I should love her the more.
152 ページ - Tis his with mock passion to glow, Tis his in smooth tales to unfold, " How her face is as bright as the snow, And her bosom, be sure, is as cold. How the nightingales labour the strain, With the notes of his charmer to vie; How they vary their accents in vain, Repine at her triumphs, and die.
149 ページ - 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 say 'twas a barbarous deed...
283 ページ - She sees no kind domestic visage near, And soon a flood of tears begins to flow And gives a loose at last to unavailing woe. But ah ! what pen his piteous plight may trace ? Or what device his loud laments explain? The form uncouth of his disguised face ? The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain ? The plenteous shower that does his cheek distain...
278 ページ - Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow, Emblem right meet of decency does yield : Her apron dy'd in grain, as blue, I trowe, As is the hare-bell that adorns the field : And in her hand, for sceptre, she does wield Tway birchen sprays...