How can they say that nature
Has nothing made in vain ;
Why then beneath the water
Should hideous rocks remain ?
No eyes the rocks discover,
That lurk beneath the deep,
To wreck the wandering lover,
And leave the maid to weep.
All melancholy lying,
Thus wail'd the for her dear;
Repay'd each blaft with fighing,
Each billow with a tear;
When o'er the white wave ftooping,
His floating corpse she spy'd;
Then, like a lily drooping,
She bow'd her head, and dy❜d.
PHYLLIDA, that lov'd to dream
In the grove, or by the stream;
Sigh'd on velvet pillow.
What, alas! fhould fill her head,
But a fountain, or a mead,
Water and a willow.?
Love in cities never dwells,
He delights in rural cells
Which sweet woodbine covers.
What are your assemblies then?
There, 'tis true, we see more men ;
But much fewer lovers.
Oh, how chang'd the prospect grows!
Flocks and herds to fops and beaux,
Coxcombs without number!
Moon and ftars that fhone fo bright,
To the torch and waxen light,
And whole nights at ombre.
Pleasant as it is, to hear
Scandal tickling in our ear,
Ev'n of our own mothers;
In the chit-chat of the day,
To us is pay'd, when we're away,
What we lent to others.
Though the favourite Toaft I reign;
Wine, they say, that prompts the vain,
Heightens defamation.
Muft I live 'twixt fpite and fear,
Every day grow handsomer,
And lofe my reputation?
Thus the fair to fighs gave way,
Her empty purse befide her lay.
Nymph, ah! cease thy forrow.
Though curst fortune frown to-night,
This odious town can give delight,
If you win to-morrow.
A SON G.
THE fun was now withdrawn,
The fhepherds home were fped;
The moon wide o'er the lawn
Her filver mantle spread;
When Damon stay'd behind,
And faunter'd in the grove.
Will ne'er a nymph be kind,
And give me love for love?
Oh! those were golden hours,
When Love, devoid of cares,
In all Arcadia's bowers
Lodg'd fwains and nymphs by pairs
But now from wood and plain
Flies every fprightly lass;
No joys for me remain,.
In fhades, or on the grafs.
The winged boy draws near,
And thus the fwain While Beauty revel'd here,
My game lay in the
At court I never fail
To scatter round my arrows
Men fall as thick as hail,
And maidens love like fparrows.
Then, fwain, if me you need,
Straight lay your fheep-hook down; Throw by your oaten reed,
And haste away to town.
So well I'm known at court,
None afks where Cupid dwells;
But readily refort
To Bellenden's or Lepell's.
DAPHNIS flood penfive in the shade,
With arms across, and head reclin'd;
Pale looks accus'd the cruel maid,
And fighs reliev'd his love-fick mind:
His tuneful pipe all broken lay;
Looks, fighs, and actions, feem'd to say,
My Chloe is unkind.
Why ring the woods with warbling throats?
Ye larks, ye linnets, cease your strains;
I faintly hear in your sweet notes
My Chloe's voice that wakes my pains:
Yet why fhould you your song forbear?
Your mates delight your fong to hear;
But Chloe mine disdains.
As thus he melancholy ftood,
Dejected as the lonely dove,
Sweet founds broke gently through the wood.
I feel the found; my heart-ftrings move.
'Twas not the nightingale that fung;
No. "Tis my Chloe's sweeter tongue.
Hark, hark, what fays my love?
How foolish is the nymph (the cries)
Who trifles with her lover's pain!
Nature still speaks in woman's eyes,
Our artful lips were made to feign.
O Daphnis, Daphnis, 'twas my pride,
'Twas not my heart thy love deny'd;
Come back, dear youth, again.
As t'other day my hand he feiz'd,
My blood with thrilling motion flew ;
Sudden I put on looks difpleas'd,
And hafty from his hold withdrew.
'Twas fear alone, thou fimple fwain;
Then hadft thou preft my hand again,
My heart had yielded too!
'Tis true, thy tuneful reed I blam'd,
That fwell'd thy lip and rofy check;
Think not thy skill in fong defam'd,
That lip should other pleasures seek:
Much, much thy mufic I approve;
Yet break thy pipe, for more I love,
Much more to hear thee speak.
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