I'll wait and hope for his return, And all my heart for Damon keep. No more, falfe Corydon; no more Your falfe defigns difgrace your art; O! fmile, ye fkies! around my love; Nor cloud my future days with woe. SONG 63. THE WISH. WHEN the trees are all bare, not a leaf to be seen, And the meadows their beauty have loft, When nature's difrob'd of her mantle of green, And the ftreams are faft bound with the froft t; While the peafant inactive ftands fhiv'ring with cold, As bleak the winds northernly blow; When the innocent flocks run for eafe to the fold, With their fleeces all cover'd with fnow: In the yard while the cattle are fodder'd with straw, And the ruftics loud laugh, if by falling fhe fhows When the birds to the barn door hover for food, In a croud round the embers are met, Talk of fairies and witches that ride on the wind, Heav'n grant in this feafon it may be my lot, Where in neatnefs and quiet, and free from furprife, Nor feel any turbulent paffions arise, But fuch as each other may cure. SONG 64. THE FORSAKEN NYMPH. GUARDIAN angels! now protect me, Send, ah! fend the youth I love; Mid fecluded dells I'll wander, Think, fond youth, what vows you fwore, And muft I never fee thee more. Then reclufe fhall be my dwelling, Deep in fome fequeft'red vale; There, with mournful cadence fwelling,. Oft' repeat my love-fick tale: And, the lark and philomel SONG 65. To the Tune of the foregoing, HOPELESS fill, in filent anguish, Far from her whom I adore ; Muft I ever love and languish, Doom'd to view her face no more! Muft I fly to fcenes of wo! Muft I ev'ry blifs forego! Why fhould Fate fo cruel prove, Alas! that ever I did love? Vain my purpose to forget her, See fair maid, my dying bloom; To mourn and figh my life away. Far from human crowds retiring, Of a conftant-hapless ffame : SONG 66. To the Tune of, THE BIRKS OF INvermay. WHAT tho' the meads be deck'd with flow'rs, What tho' the daisy paints the green, Though now the linnets chant their fong, I thought this beauteous landscape, gay, And rural paftimes to renew. O happy days! when with my Love Or when the deign'd to haunt the grove, I've heard her fay, "the vale was fair, And to the hill fhe would repair, And fa How beauteous was the scene!" And can fhe prize the city's noise, |