"Tis his with mock passion to glow: To the grove or the garden he strays, Then the lily no longer is white, Then the rose is deprived of its bloom, Then the violets die with despite, And the woodbines give up their perfume.' Thus glide the soft numbers along, And he fancies no shepherd his peer ; Yet I never should envy the song, Were not Phillis to lend it an ear. Let his crook be with hyacinths bound, Yet IV. DISAPPOINTMENT. YE shepherds! give ear to my lay, She was fair-and my passion begun ; Perhaps I was void of all thought; She is faithless, and I am undone ; Amid nymphs of a higher degree; How fair and how fickle they be. Alas! from the day that we met The glance that undid my repose. Yet time may diminish the pain : The flower, and the shrub, and the tree, The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose, The sound of a murmuring stream, O ye woods! spread your branches apace, I would hide with the beasts of the chase, Yet my reed shall resound through the grove How she smiled, and I could not but love! Was faithless, and I am undone ! THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH. A Ballad. ALLUDING TO A STORY RECORDED OF HER, WHEN SHE WILL you hear how once repining Each ambitious thought resigning, While the nymphs and swains, delighted, Bred on plains, or born in valleys, Stranger to the arts of Malice, Who would ever courts pursue? Malice never taught to treasure, Censure never taught to bear; Love is all the shepherd's pleasure; Love is all the damsel's care. 'How can they of humble station Vainly blame the powers above? Or accuse the dispensation Which allows them all to love? 'Love, like air, is widely given; Power nor Chance can these restrain ; Truest, noblest gifts of Heaven Only purest on the plain! Peers can no such charms discover, As on Sundays does the lover, With his nosegay on his breast. 'Pinks and roses in profusion, Said to fade when Chloe's near; Fops may use the same allusion, But the shepherd is sincere. Hark to yonder milkmaid singing Cheerly o'er the brimming pail ; Cowslips, all around her springing, Sweetly paint the golden vale. 'Never yet did courtly maiden Move so spritely, look so fair; Never breast, with jewels laden, Pour a song so void of care. Would indulgent Heaven had granted Me some rural damsel's part! All the empire I had wanted, Then had been my shepherd's heart. 'Then with him o'er hills and mountains, 'Rustics had been more forgiving, |