OME all ye youths whose hearts e'er bled,
By cruel beauty's pride;
Bring each a garland on his head,
Let none his forrows hide:
But hand in hand around me move,
Singing the faddeft tales of love;
And fee, when your complaints ye join,
If all your wrongs can equal mine.
The happiest mortal once was I,
My heart no forrows knew ;
Pity the pain with which I die,
But afk not whence it grew:
Yet if a tempting fair you find,
That's very lovely, very kind,
Tho' bright as Heaven whofe ftamp fhe bears,
Think of my fate, and fhun her fnares.
a bank, befide a willow,
Heaven her covering, earth her pillow,
Sad AMINTA figh'd alone:
From the cheerlefs dawn of morning,
Till the dews of night returning,
Singing, thus fhe made her moan;
Hope is banifh'd,
Joys are vanish'd,
DAMON, my belov'd, is gone,
Time, I dare thee to difcover
Such a youth, and such a lover,
Oh! so true, so kind was he!
DAMON was the pride of nature,
Charming in his every feature,
DAMON liv'd alone for me;
Melting kiffes,
Murmuring bliffes,
Who fo liv'd and lov'd as we ?
Never fhall we curfe the morning,
Never bless the night returning,
Sweet embraces to reftore;
Never shall we both lie dying,
Nature failing, love supplying
All the joys he drain'd before;
Death come end me
To befriend me;
Love and DAMON are no more!
O the brook and the willow that heard him complain,
Ah willow! willow!
Poor COLIN went weeping, and told them his pain.
Sweet ftream, he cry'd, fadly I'll teach thee to flow,
And the waters fhall rife to the brink with my woe.
All reftlefs and painful my CELIA now lies,
And counts the fad moments of time as it flies:
To the nymph, my heart's love, ye foft flumbers repair,
Spread your downy wings o'er her, and make her your care;
Let me be left restlefs, mine eyes never close,
So the fleep that I lofe give my dear one repofe.
Sweet ftream! if you chance by her pillow to creep,
Perhaps your
foft murmurs lull her to fleep.
But if I am doom'd to be wretched indeed,
And the lofs of my charmer the fates have decreed,
Believe me, thou fair one, thou dear one, believe,
Few fighs to thy lofs, and few tears will I give;
One fate to thy COLIN and thee shall betide,
And foon lay thy fhepherd down by thy cold fide.
Then glide, gentle brook, and to lose thyself hatte,
Bear this to my willow; this verfe is my laft.
Ah willow! willow! Ah willow! willow!
O fair FIDELE's graffy tomb
Soft maids, and village hinds fhall bring
Each op'ning fweet of earliest bloom,
And rifle all the breathing spring,
No wailing ghoft shall dare appear
To vex with fhrieks this quiet grove,
But fhepherd lads affemble here,
And melting virgins own their love.
No wither'd witch fhall here be seen,
No goblins lead their nightly crew;
But female fays fhall haunt the green,
And drefs thy grave with pearly dew,
The red breaft oft at evening hours
Shall kindly lend his little aid,
With hoary mofs and gather'd flow'rs
To deck the ground where thou art laid.
When howling winds and beating rain
In tempests shake the sylvan cell;
Or 'midft the chafe upon the plain
The tender thought on thee fhall dwell,
Each lonely scene fhall thee reftore,
For thee the tear be duly fhed;
Belov'd, till life can charm no more,
And mourn'd, till pity's felf be dead.
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