OW 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 she danc'd, or whenever she sung,

How just was her motion, how fweet 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 fhe neither refus'd him, nor gave him her love.

IV.

:

Now cheer'd by complacence, now froze by disdain,
He languish'd for freedom, but languish'd in vain
'Till Thyrfis, who pity'd fo 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, fhe 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.

The BULFINCH in Town.

HSweet

By a Lady of Quality.

ARK to the blackbird's pleafing note:
Sweet ufher 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 fhrill,

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

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

On opera-pinions hoping foon

Unrival'd he fhall mount the fkies.

I. S. H.

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! still 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 ftudy'd mufick o'er and o'er ;
Whilft I attend th' inviting spring,

In fields where birds unfetter'd foar.

*<*>*<*}**

T

*<*}*<*<*>

S ON G.

Written in Winter 1745.

By the Same.

I.

HE fun, his gladfome beams withdrawn,

The hills all white with snow,

Leave me dejected and forlorn!

Who can defcribe my woe?

But not the fun's warm beams could cheer,
Nor hills, tho' e'er fo green,

Unless my Damon should appear,
To beautify the scene.

II.

The frozen brooks and pathless 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 lute, and dull the books,

While Damon is not here!

III.

The Laplander, who, half the year,
Is wrapt in shades 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 so fine?

The flowery meadow, field, or grove,

If Damon be not mine?

Fly swift, ye hours, be calm the day,

That brings my love again!

O hafte

YOU

You bid my ink not cease to flow;

Then say it ever shall be spring,

And boisterous winds fhall never blow:

When fuch miracles can prove,

you

But now, alone, by ftorms opprest,
Which harshly in my ears refound;
No cheerful voice with witty jeft,

No jocund pipe to ftill the found
Untrain'd befide in verfe-like art,

;

How shall my pen exprefs my heart ?

U 3

III. In