f

SONG.

I.

1753.

TOW eafy was Colin, how blithe and how gay
Ere he met the fair Chloris, how sprightly his lay!

So graceful her form, fo accomplish'd her mind,
Sure pity, he thought, with fuch charms must be join'd:
II.

Whenever the danc'd; or whenever she fung,

How juft was her motion, how sweet was her tongue!
And when the youth told her his paffionate flame,
She allow'd him to fancy her heart felt the fame.

> III.

With ardour he prefs'd her to think him fincere,
But alas! fhe redoubled each hope and each fear;
She would not deny, nor she would not approve,
And she neither refus'd him, nor gave him her love.
IV.

Now chear'd by complacence, now froze by disdain,
He languish'd for freedom, but languish'd in vain:
'Till Thyrfis, who pity'd so helpless a slave,
Eas'd his heart of its pain by the counsel he gave.

V.

Forfake her, faid he, and reject her awhile;
If the love you, the foon will return with a smile:

VOL. IV.

U

You

You can judge of her paffion by absence alone,

And by abfence will conquer her heart or—your own,

VI.

This advice he purfu'd; but the remedy prov'd
Too fatal, alas! to the fair one he lov'd;

Which cur'd his own paffion, but left her in vain
To figh for a heart she could never regain.

I. S. H.

The BULFINCH in Town.

HA

By a Lady of Quality.

ARK to the blackbird's pleasing note:
Sweet usher of the vocal throng!
Nature directs his warbling throat,
And all that hear, admire the fong.

Yon' bulfinch, with unvary'd tone,
Of cadence harfh, and accent shrill,

Has brighter plumage to attone
For want of harmony and skill.

Yet, difcontent with nature's boon,
Like man, to mimick art he flies;

On operá-pinions hoping foon

Unrival'd he fhall mount the fkies.

And

And while, to please fome courtly fair;
He one dull tune with labour learns,
A well-gilt cage remote from air,

And faded plumes, is all he earns!

Go, hapless captive! ftill repeat

The founds which nature never taught;
Go, listening fair! and call them fweet,
Because you know them dearly bought.

Unenvy'd both go hear and fing

Your study'd musick o'er and o'er ;
Whilst I attend th' inviting fpring,

In fields where birds unfetter'd foar.

*<*}*{*}*****{*}*{*}*{*}*(***

TH

The hills all white with fnow,

Leave me dejected and forlorn!

Who can defcribe my woe?

But not the fun's warm beams could chear,

Nor hills, tho' e'er so green,

Unless my Damon fhould appear,
To beautify the scene.

II.

The frozen brooks, and pathlefs vales,
Disjoin my love and me!

The pining bird his fate bewails
On yonder leaflefs tree!

But what to me are birds or brooks,

Or any joy that's near?

Heavy the lufe, and dull the books,

While Damon is not here!

III.

The Laplander, who, half the year,
Is wrapt in fhades of night,

Mourns not, like me, his winter drear;

Nor wishes more for light.

But what were light without my love,

Or objects e'er fo fine?

The flowery meadow, field, or grove,

If Damon be not mine?

IV.

Each moment, from my dear away,

Is a long age of pain;

Fly fwift, ye hours, be calm the day,

That brings my love again!

1

© hafte

Ohafte and bring him to my arms?
Nor let us ever part:

My breast shall beat no more alarms,
When I fecure his heart,

Written to a near Neighbour in a tempestuous Night 1748.

OU bid

YOU

my

Muse not cease to fing,

You bid my ink not cease to flow;

Then fay it ever fhall be fpring,

And boisterous winds shall never blow;

When

you fuch miracles can prove, I'll fing of friendship, or of love.

II.

But now, alone, by ftorms oppreft,
Which harshly in my ears refound;
No chearful voice with witty jeft,
No jocund pipe to still the found;
Untrain'd befide in verfe-like art,
How fhall my pen exprefs my heart?