Say, dear Hippolitus (whofe drink is ale,
Whofe erudition is a Christmas-tale,

Whose mistress is faluted with a smack,
And friend receiv'd with thumps upon the back)
When thy fleek gelding nimbly leaps the mound,
And Ringwood opens on the tainted ground,
Is that thy praise ?. Let Ringwood's fame alone,
Juft Ringwood leaves each animal his own,
Nor envies when a gipfy you commit,

And shake the clumfy bench with country wit;
When you the dulleft of dull things have said,
And then ask pardon for the jeft you made.

Here breathe, my muse! and then thy task renew,
Ten thousand fools unfung are still in view.
Fewer lay-atheifts made by church-debates;
Fewer great beggars fam'd for large estates;
Ladies, whofe love is constant as the wind;
Cits, who prefer a guinea to mankind;
Fewer grave lords to Scroope difcreetly bend:
And fewer shocks a statesman gives his friend.
Is there a man of an eternal vein,

Who lulls the town in Winter with his strain,
At Bath in Summer chants the reigning lass,
And sweetly whiftles as the waters pass?
Is there a tongue, like Delia's o'er her cup,
That runs for ages without winding-up?

Is there, whom his tenth Epic mounts to fame ?
Such, and fuch only might exhauft my theme;
Nor would these heroes of the task be glad;
For who can write fo faft as men run mad?

A PASTORAL

A

PASTORAL BALLAD.

IN FOUR PARTS.

These ballads of Mr. Shenftone are chiefly com mended for the natural fimplicity of the thoughts, and the harmony of the verfification. However, they are not excellent in either.

YE

I. ABSENCE.

I.

E fhepherds fo chearful and gay,
Whose flocks never carelefly roam ;
Should Corydon's happen to ftray,
Oh! call the poor wanderers home.
Allow me to muse and to figh,

Nor talk of the change that ye find;
None, once, was fo watchful as I:

-I have left my dear Phyllis behind.

II.

Now I know what it is, to have ftrove
With the torture of doubt and defire;
What it is, to admire and to love,
And to leave her we love and admire.
VOL. II.

H

Ah

Ah lead forth my flock in the morn,

And the damps of each ev'ning repell; Alas! I am faint and forlorn :

-I have bade my dear Phyllis farewell.

III.

Since Phyllis vouchsaf'd me a look,
I never once dreamt of my vine;
May I lose both my pipe and my crook,
If I knew of a kid that was mine.
I priz'd every hour that went by,
Beyond all that had pleas'd me before ;
But now they are pass'd, and I figh;
And I grieve that I priz'd them no more.

IV.

But why do I languish in vain?

Why wander thus penfively here?
Oh! why did I come from the plain,
Where I fed on the fmiles 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.

V.

When forc'd the fair nymph to forego,
What anguish I felt at my heart!
Yet I thought---but it might not be fo---
'Twas with pain that fhe faw me depart.

She

She gaz'd, as I flowly withdrew;
My path I could hardly difcern;
So fweetly fhe bade me adieu,

I thought that she bade me return.

VI.

The pilgrim that journeys all day
To vifit fome far distant shrine,
If he bear but a relique away,

Is happy, nor heard to repine.
Thus widely remov'd from the fair,
Where my vows, my devotion, I owe,

Soft Hope is the relique I bear,

And my folace wherever I go.

MY

II. HOPE.

I.

Y banks they are furnish'd with bees,
Whofe murmur invites one to fleep;
My grottoes are shaded with trees,
And my hills are white over with sheep.
I feldom have met with a lofs,

Such health do my fountains bestow;
My fountains, all border'd with mofs,
Where the hare-bells and violets grow.

II.

Not a pine in my grove is there seen,
But with tendrils of woodbine is bound:
Not a beech's more beautiful green,

But a fweet-briar twines it around.
Not my fields, in the prime of the year,
More charms than my cattle unfold:
Not a brook that is limpid and clear,
But it glitters with fishes of gold.

III.

One would think the might like to retire
To the bow'r I have labour'd to rear;
Not a fhrub that I heard her admire,

But I hafted and planted it there.

O how