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« And every wish, and thought, and care, was gone, “ But what my heart employ'd on her alone. 6. Then too she smild: can liniles our peace destroyx “ Those lovely children of Content and Joy? “ How can soft pleasure and tormenting woe« From the same fpring at the same moment flow?" 66 Unhappy boy! these vain enquiries cease, " Thought could not guard, nor will restore. thy peace :: “ Indulge the frenzy that thou must endure, 65 And footh the pain thou know it not how to cure, " Come; flattering Memory! and tell my

heart " How. kind.fhe was, and with what pleasing art • She strove its fondest wishes to obtain, « Confirm hér power, and faster bind my

chain. 66. If on the green we danc'd, a mirthful band; «. To me alone she gave her willing hand: « Her partial taste, if e’er I touch'd the lyre, • Still in my song found something to adinire. 66. By none but her my crook with flowers was crown'd, 66 By none but her my brows with ivy bound : 66 The world that Damon was her choice believ'd, 6. The world, alas! like Damon, was deceiv'd. 6. When last I saw lier, and declar'd my fire 66 In words' as soft as passion could inspire, 46 Coldly the heard, and full of scorn withdrew, 66 Without one pitying glance, one fweet adieu. 66 The frighted hind, who sees his ripen’d corn 66 Up from the roots by ludilen tempests torn, 56 Whose fairest hopes destroy'd and blasted lie, $ Feels not so keen a pang of grief as I.


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"! Ah, how have I deserv’d, inhuman maid, “ To have my faithful service thus repaid ? “ Were all the marks of kindness I receiv'd, “ But dreams of joy, that charın’d me and deceiv'd ? • Or did you only nurse my growing love, • That with more pain I might your hatred prove ? “ Sure guilty treachery no place could find : In such a gentle, such a generous mind: “ A maid brought up the woods and wilds among 66 Could ne'er have learnt the art of courts so young : 56 No; let me rather think her anger feign’d, “ Still let me hope my Delia may be gain’d; “ 'Twas only modesty that seem'd disdain, 66 And her heart suffer'd when she gave me pain.”

Pleas.'d with this flattering thought, the love-lick boy Felt the faint dawning of a doubtful joy ; Back to his flock more chearful he return’d, When now the setting sun more fiercely burn'd, Blue vapours rose along the mazy rills, And light's last blushes ting'd the distant hills,



[Afterwards LORD MELCOMBE Regis.] HEAR, Doddington, the notes that shepherds fing,

Like those that warbling hail the genial spring. Nor Pan, nor Phæbus, tunes our artless reeds : From Love alone their melody proceeds.



From Love, Theocritus, on Enna's plains,
Learnt the wild sweetness of his Doric strains,
Young Maro, touch'd by his inspiring dart,
Could charm each ear, and soften every heart :
Me too his power has reach'd, and bids with thine.
My rustic pipe in pleasing concert join *.

Damon no longer fought the silent shade,
No more in unfrequented paths he stray'd,
But call'd the swains to hear his jocund song,
And told his joy to all the rural throng.

“ Biest be the hour, he said, that happy hour, “ When first I own'd my Delia's gentle power ; “ Then gloomy discontent and pining care “ Forsook my breast, and left soft wishes there ja “ Soft wishes there they left, and gay desires, " Delightful languors, and transporting fires. “ Where yonder limes combine to form a shade, “ These eyes first gaz’d upon the charming maid ş. “ There she appear’d, on that auspicious day, “ When swains their sportives rites to Bacchus pay:. “ She led the dance-heavens! with what grace fhe

5 mov'd! * Who could have seen her then, and not have lov'd ? " I strove not to resist so sweet a flame, “ But gloried in a happy captive's name ; . " Nor would I now, could Love permit, be free, * But leave to brutes their savage liberty:

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" And * Mr. Doddington had written some very pretty loveTerses ;- which have never been published. LYTTELT.

And art thou then, fond youth, fecure of joy > “ Can no reverse thy flattering bliss destroy ? “ Has treacherous Love no torment yet in store ? “ Or hast thou never prov'd his fatal power ? “ Whence flow'd those tears that late bedew'd thy

" cheek? Why figh'd thy heart as if it strove to break ? • Why were the desert rocks invok'd to hear The plaintive accent of thy fad despair ? • From Delia's rigour all those pains arose, « Delia, who now compassionates my woes, Wlio bids me hope; and in that charming word Has peace and transport to my foul restor’d.

“ Begin, my pipe, begin the gladsome lay i - A kils from Delia Mall thy music pay; “ A kiss obtain’d 'twixt struggling and consent, " Given with forc'd anger, and disguis’d content. " No laureat wreaths I ask, to bind my brows, “ Such as the Muse on lofty Bards bestows : • Let other swains to praise or fame aspire; « I from her lips my recompence require.

Why stays niy Delia in her secret bower ? Light gales have chac'd the late impending shower ; « Th' emerging sun more bright his beams extends ; “ Oppos’d, its beauteous arch the rainbow bends ! “ Glad youths and maidens turn the new-made hay : " The birds renew their songs on every spray! «« Come forth, my love, thy shepherd's joys to crowo : “ All nature smiles.-Will only Delia frown?

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« Hark

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“ Hark how the bees with murmurs fill the plain, “ While every flower of every sweet they drain “ See, how beneath yon hillock's shady steep, “ The shelter'd herds on flowery couches sleep : « Nor bees, nor herds, are half fo bleft as I, “ If with my fond desires my love comply; “ Froin Delia's lips a sweeter honey flows, " And on her bosom dwells more soft repose.

“ Ah how, my dear, shall I deserve thy charms ? “ What gift can bribe thee to my longing arms ? “ A bird for thee in filken bands I hold, “ Whose yellow plumage shines like polith'd gold; “ From diftant isles the lovely stranger came, “ And bears the fortunate Canaries name; “ In all our woods none. boasts so sweet a note, “ Not ev’n the nightingale's melodious throat. “ Accept of this; and could I add beside “ What wealth the rich Peruvian mountains hide : “ If all the gems in Eastern rocks were mine, “ On thee alone their glittering pride should shine. " But, if thy mind no gifts have power to move, to Phoebus himself shall leave th' Aonian grove ; " The tuneful Nine, who never fue in vain, “ Shall come sweet suppliants for their favourite swains “ For him each blue-ey'd Naiad of the flood, “ For him each green-hair'd fifter of the wood, “ Whom oft beneath fair Cynthia's gentle ray “ His music calls to dance the night away. “ And you, fair nymphs, companions of my love, " With whom she joys the cowslip meads to rove,

“ I bes

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