How can they say that nature Has nothing made in vain ; All melancholy lying, Thus wail'd fhe for her dear; She bow'd her head, and dy'd. THE LADY'S LAMENTATION. A BALL A D. PHYLLIDA, that lov'd to dream In the grove, or by the stream; What, alas! fhould fill her head, Water and a willow? Love in cities never dwells, Which sweet woodbine covers. There, 'tis true, we see more men; But much fewer lovers. Oh, how chang'd the profpect grows! Ev'n of our own mothers; Though the favourite Toast I reign; Muft I live 'twixt fpite and fear, And lofe my reputation? Thus the fair to fighs gave way, DAMON TH A SON G. HE fun was now withdrawn, The moon wide o'er the lawn And faunter'd in the grove. Will ne'er a nymph be kind, Oh! those were golden hours, Lodg'd fwains and nymphs by pairs : Flies every fprightly lass; No joys for me remain, In fhades, or on the grass. The winged boy draws near, And thus the fwain reproves : While Beauty revel'd here, My game lay in the At court I never fail groves; To fcatter round my arrows, Men fall as thick as hail; And maidens love like fparrows. Then, Then, fwain, if me you need, Straight lay your fheep-hook down; Throw by your oaten reed, And hafte away to town. So well I'm known at court, But readily refort To Bellenden's or Lepell's. DAPHNIS D AND A SON G. CHLOE. APHNIS flood penfive in the fhade, Pale looks accus'd the cruel maid, And fighs reliev'd his love-fick mind: Looks, fighs, and actions, feein'd to say, Why ring the woods with warbling throats? My Chloe's voice that wakes my pains: But Chloe mine difdains. As thus he melancholy flood, Dejected as the lonely dove, Sweet founds broke gently through the wood. How foolish is the nymph (fhe cries) Our artful lips were made to feign. As t' other day my hand he feiz'd, And hafty from his hold withdrew. 'Tis true, thy tuneful reed I blam'd, Much more to hear thee fpeak. My |