III. SOLICITUDE.

WHY will you my paffion reprove?

Why term it a folly to grieve?

Ere I fhew you the charms of my love,
She is fairer than you can believe.
With her mien she enamours the brave;
With her wit she engages the free
With her modefty pleases the grave;
She is every way pleafing to me.

II.

O you that have been of her train,

Come and join in my amorous lays ;
I could lay down my life for the fwain

That will fing but a song in her praise.
When he fings, may the nymphs of the town
Come trooping, and liften the while;
Nay on Him let not Phyllida frown;
-But I cannot allow her to fmile.

III.

For when Paridel tries in the dance
Any favour with Phyllis to find,
O how, with one trivial glance,

Might she ruin the peace of my mind!
In ringlets He dreffes his hair,

And his crook is bestudded around;
And his pipe- oh may Phyllis beware
Of a magic there is in the found.
Z

VOL. IV.

IV. 'Tis

IV.

"Tis His with mock paffion to glow;
"Tis His in fmooth tales to unfold,
"How her face is as bright as the fnow,
"And her bofom, be sure, is as cold;
"How the nightingales labour the ftrain,
"With the notes of his charmer to vie :
"How they vary their accents in vain,
"Repine at her triumphs, and die."

V.

To the grove or the garden he ftrays,

And pillages every fweet;

Then, fuiting the wreath to his lays

He throws it at Phyllis's feet. "O Phyllis, he whifpers, more fair,

"More fweet than the jeffamin's flow'r! "What are pinks, in a morn, to compare ? "What is eglantine after a fhow'r ? VI.

"Then the lily no longer is white;

"Then the rofe is depriv'd of its bloom;

"Then the violets die with defpight,

"And the wood-bines give up their perfume."

Thus glide the foft numbers along,

And he fancies no fhepherd his peer ;

Yet I never fhould envy the fong,

Were not Phyllis to lend it an ear.

VI. Let

VII.

Let his crook be with hyacinths bound
So Phyllis the trophy defpife;

Let his forehead with laurels be crown'd,
So they fhine not in Phyllis's eyes.
The language that flows from the heart
Is a ftranger to Paridel's tongue;
Yet may fhe beware of his art,

Or fure I muft envy the fong.

Y

E fhepherds give ear to my lay,

And take no more heed of my sheep:
They have nothing to do, but to stray;
I have nothing to do, but to weep.
Yet do not my folly rèprove;

She was fair and my paffion begun ; She smil❜d — and I could not but love ;

She is faithlefs-and I am undone.

II.

Perhaps I was void of all thought;
Perhaps it was plain to foresee,
That a nymph fo compleat would be fought
By a fwain more engaging than me.
Ah! love every hope can inspire:

It banishes wifdom the while;
And the lip of the nymph we admire
Seems for ever adorn'd with a smile.

III.

She is faithlefs, and I am undone ;

Ye that witness the woes I endure, Let reason inftruct you to fhun

What it cannot inftruct you to cure. Beware how ye loiter in vain

Amid nymphs of an higher degree:
It is not for me to explain

How fair, and how fickle they be.
IV.

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 flow'r, and the fhrub, and the tree,

Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain,
In time may have comfort for me.

V.

The sweets of a dew-fprinkled rofe,

The found of a murmuring ftream, The peace which from folitude flows, Henceforth fhall be Corydon's theme. High transports are fhewn to the fight, But we are not to find them our own; Fate never bestow'd fsuch delight,

As I with my Phyllis had known.

VI. O ye

VI.

O ye woods, spread your branches apace;
To your deepest receffes I fly;

I would hide with the beafts of the chace;
I would vanish from every eye.

Yet my reed shall refound through the grove
With the fame fad complaint it begun ;
How she smil'd, and I could not but love;
Was faithlefs, and I am undone !