Though never grass should cloath the naked ground, "Nor ever healing plant or wholfome herb be found. "None, none were found when I bewail'd their want; "Nor wholfome herb was found, nor healing plant, "To cafe Amyntas of his cruel pains,

In vain I fearch'd the valleys, hills and plains; But wither'd leaves alone appear'd to view, "Or poisonous weeds diftilling deadly dew. "And if fome naked stalk, not quite decay'd, "To yield a fresh and friendly bud essay'd, "Soon as I reach'd to crop the tender fhoot, "A fhrieking mandrake kill'd it at the root. "Witness to this, ye fawns of every wood, "Who at the prodigy astonish'd ftood. "Well I remember what fad figns ye made, "What showers of unavailing tears ye fhed; "How each ran fearful to his moffy cave, "When the last gafp the dear Amyntas gave. "For then the air was fill'd with dreadful cries, "And fudden night o'erfpread the darken'd skies; "Phantoms, and fiends, and wandering fires appear'd, "And screams of ill-presaging birds were heard. "The foreft fhook, and flinty rocks were cleft, "And frighted ftreams their wonted channels left; "With frantic grief o'erflowing fruitful ground, "Where many a herd and harmless swain was drown'd; "While I forlorn and defolate was left,

"Of every help, of every hope bereft
"To every element expos'd I lay,
"And to my griefs a more defenceless prey.

"For thee, Amyntas, all these pains were borne, "For thee these hands were wrung, these hairs were torn; "For thee my foul to figh fhall never leave,

"These eyes to weep, this throbbing heart to heave. "To mourn thy fall, I'll fly the hated light, "And hide my head in shades of endless night : "For thou wert light, and life, and health to me; "The fun but thanklefs fhines that fhews not thee. "Wert thou not lovely, graceful, good, and young? "The joy of fight, the talk of every tongue? "Did ever branch fo fweet a bloffom bear? "Or ever early fruit appear fo fair? "Did ever youth so far his years tranfcend? "Did ever life fo immaturely end? "For thee the tuneful fwains provided lays, "And every Mufe prepar'd thy future praise. "For thee the bufy nymph ftripp'd every grove, "And myrtle wreaths and flowery chaplets wove. "But now, ah dismal change! the tuneful throng "To loud lamentings turn the chearful fong. "Their pleafing task the weeping virgins leave, "And with unfinish'd garlands ftrew thy grave. "There let me fall, there, there lamenting lie, "There grieving grow to earth, despair, and die." This faid, her loud complaint of force the ceas'd, Excefs of grief her faultering fpeech fupprefs'd. Along the ground her colder limbs she laid, Where late the grave was for Amyntas made; Then from her fwimming eyes began to pour Of foftly-falling rain a filver fhower;

Her loosely-flowing hair, all radiant bright,
O'er-fpread the dewy grafs like streams of light :
As if the fun had of his beams been fhorn,
And caft to earth the glories he had worn.
A fight fo lovely fad, fuch deep distress,
No tongue can tell, no pencil can exprefs.

And now the winds, which had so long been still,
Began the fwelling air with fighs to fill:
The water-nymphs, who motionless remain'd,
Like images of ice, while fhe complain'd,
Now loos'd their streams; as when descending rains
Roll the steep torrents headlong o'er the plains.
The prone creation, who so long had gaz'd,
Charm'd with her cries, and at her griefs amaz'd,
Began to roar and howl with horrid yell,

Difmal to hear, and terrible to tell

;

Nothing but groans and fighs were heard around,
And Echo multiplied each mournful found.
When all at once an univerfal paufe

Of grief was made, as from fome fecret caufe.
The balmy air with fragrant scents was fill'd,
As if each weeping tree had gums diftill'd.
Such, if not sweeter, was the rich perfume
Which swift afcended from Amyntas' tomb :
As if th' Arabian bird her neft had fir'd,
And on the spicy pile were now expir'd.

And now the turf, which late was naked feen,
Was fudden spread with lively-springing green;
And Amarillis faw, with wondering eyes,
A flowery bed, where she had wept, arife;

Thick as the pearly drops the fair had shed,
The blowing buds advanc'd their purple head;
From every tear that fell, a violet grew,

And thence their fweetnefs came, and thence their mournful hue.

Remember this, ye nymphs and gentle maids,
When folitude ye feek in gloomy shades ;
Or walk on banks where filent waters flow,
For there this lonely flower will love to grow.
Think on Amyntas, oft as ye fhall stoop
Το crop the ftalks and take them foftly up.
When in your fnowy necks their sweets you wear,
Give a foft figh, and drop a tender tear :

To lov'd Amyntas pay the tribute due,
And bless his peaceful grave, where first they grew.

TO CYNTHIA,

WEEPING, AND NOT SPEAKING.

E LE GY.

HY are those hours, which Heaven in pity lent

WHY

To longing love, in fruitless forrow spent ?
Why fighs my fair? why does that bofom move
With any paffion stirr'd, but rising love?
Can Difcontent find place within that breast,
On whofe foft pillows ev'n Despair might rest?

Divide thy woes, and give me my fad part.
I am no ftranger to an aching heart;
Too well I know the force of inward grief,
And well can bear it to give you relief:
All Love's fevereft pangs I can endure:
I can bear pain, though hopeless of a cure.
I know what 'tis to weep, and figh, and pray,
To wake all night, yet dread the breaking day;
I know what 'tis to wifh, and hope, and all in vain,
And meet, for humble Love, unkind Difdain;
Anger and Hate I have been forc'd to bear,
Nay, Jealoufy---and I have felt Despair.
'These pains for I have been forc'd to prove,
For cruel you, when I began to love.

you

Till warm Compaffion took at length my part,
And melted to my wish your yielding heart.
O the dear hour, in which you did refign!
When round my neck your willing arms did twine,
And, in a kifs, you faid your heart was mine.
Through each returning year may that hour be
Diftinguifh'd in the rounds of all eternity;
Gay be the fun that hour in all his light,
Let him collect the day to be more bright,
Shine all that hour, and let the rest be night.
And fhall I all this heaven of blifs receive
From you, yet not lament to see you grieve!
Shall I, who nourish'd in my breast desire,

When your cold fcorn and frowns forbid the fire;
Now when a mutual flame you have reveal'd,
And the dear union of our souls is seal'd,

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When