calm retreat,

With inbred ftorms difturbs your
And taints with bitternefs each rural fweet.

Ah luckless day! when firft with fond furprize
On Delia's face I fix'd my eager eyes;

Then in wild tumults all my foul was toft,
Then reafon, liberty, at once were loft:

And every wish, and thought, and care was gone,
But what my heart employ'd on her alone.
Then too fhe fmil'd: can smiles our peace deftroy,
Thofe lovely Children of Content and Joy ?
How can foft pleasure and tormenting woe,
From the fame spring at the fame moment flow ?
Unhappy boy, thefe vain enquiries ceafe,
Thought could not guard, nor will restore thy peace:
Indulge the frenzy that thou must endure,

chain.

And footh the pain thou know'st not how to cure.
Come, flatt'ring Memory, and tell my heart
How kind fhe was, and with what pleasing art
She ftrove its fondeft wishes to obtain,
Confirm her pow'r, and faster bind my
If on the green we danc'd, a mirthful band,
To me alone fhe gave her willing hand;
Her partial tafte, if e'er I touch'd the lyre,
Still in my fong found fomething to admire.
By none but her my crook with flow'rs was crown'd,
By none but her my brows with ivy bound:
The world that Damon was her choice believ'd,
The world, alas! like Damon was deceiv'd,

When laft I saw her, and declar'd my fire,
In words as foft as paffion could inspire,
Coldly fhe heard, and full of fcorn withdrew,
Without one pitying glance, one sweet adieu.
The frighted hind, who fees his ripen'd corn
Up from the roots by fudden tempest torn,
Whose fairest hopes destroy'd and blasted lie,
Feels not fo keen a pang of grief as I.
Ah! how have I deserv'd, inhuman maid,
To have my faithful service thus repay'd?
Were all the marks of kindness I receiv'd,
But dreams of joy, that charm'd me and deceiv'd ?
Or did you only nurse my growing love,
That with more pain I might your hatred
Sure guilty treachery no place could find
In fuch a gentle, fuch a gen'rous mind:

prove ?

A maid brought up the woods and wilds among,
Could ne'er have learnt the art of courts fo young:
No; let me rather think her anger feign'd,

Still let me hope my Delia may be gain'd;

'Twas only modefty that feem'd difdain,

And her heart fuffer'd when she gave me pain.

Pleas'd with this flatt'ring thought the love-fick boy Felt the faint dawnings of a doubtful joy;

Back to his flock more chearful he return'd,

When now the fetting fun lefs fiercely burn'd;

Blue vapours rofe along the mazy rills,

And light's last blushes ting'd the distant hills.

HOPE.

HEar, DODDINGTON, the notes that shepherds fing,

Notes foft as thofe of nightingales in spring:

Nor Pan, nor Phoebus tune the shepherd's reed d;
From Love alone our tender lays proceed :
Love warms our fancy with enliv'ning fires,
Refines our genius, and our verfe inspires:
From him Theocritus, on Enna's plains,
Learnt the wild sweetness of his Doric ftrains;
Virgil by him was taught the moving art,
That charm'd each ear, and foften'd every heart:
O would'st thou quit the pride of courts, and deign
To dwell with us upon the vocal plain,

Thee too his pow'r fhould reach, and every shade
Refound the praises of thy fav'rite maid;

Thy pipe our rural concert would improve,
And we should learn of thee to please and love.
Damon no longer fought the filent shade,
No more in unfrequented paths he stray'd,
But call'd the nymphs to hear his jocund fong,
And told his joy to all the rustic throng.

Bleft be the hour, he faid, that happy hour, When firft I own'd my Delia's gentle pow'r; Then gloomy difcontent and pining care Forfook my breast, and left soft wishes there: Soft wishes there they left, and gay defires, Delightful languors, and tranfporting fires. Where yonder limes combine to form a shade, Thefe eyes first gaz'd upon the charming maid; There the appear'd, on that auspicious day, When fwains their sportive rites to Bacchus pay: She led the dance-heav'ns! with what grace the mov'd! Who could have feen her then, and not have lov'd?

I ftrove not to refift fo fweet a flame,

But glory'd in a happy captive's name;

Nor would I now, could Love permit, be free,
But leave to brutes their favage liberty.

And art thou then, fond fwain, fecure of joy
Can no reverse thy flatt'ring bliss destroy?
Has treach'rous Love no torment yet in ftore ?
Or haft thou never prov'd his fatal pow'r?
Whence flow'd thofe tears that late bedew'd thy cheek?
Why figh'd thy heart as if it ftrove to break?
Why were the defart rocks invok'd to hear

The plaintive accents of thy fad despair?
From Delia's rigour all thofe pains arofe,
Delia, who now compaffionates my woes,
Who bids me hope; and in that charming word
Has peace and tranfport to my foul reftor'd.

Begin, my pipe, begin the gladfome lay;
A kifs from Delia fhall thy mufic pay;
A kifs obtain'd 'twixt ftruggling and confent,
Giv'n with forc'd anger, and difguis'd content:
No laureat wreaths I ask to bind my brows,
Such as the Mufe on lofty bards bestows;
Let other swains to praise or fame aspire :
I from her lips my recompence require.

Hark how the bees with murmurs fill the plain,
While every flow'r of every fweet they drain;
See, how beneath yon hillock's fhady fleep,
The shelter'd herds on flow'ry couches fleep:
Nor bees, nor her ls, are half fo bleft as I,
If with my fond defires my Love comply:
From Delia's lips a fweeter honey flows,
And on her bosom dwells more foft repose.

Ah how, my dear, fhall I deserve thy charms?
What gift can bribe thee to my longing arms?
A bird for thee in filken bands I hold,
Whofe yellow plumage fhines like polifh'd gold;
From diftant ifles the lovely ftranger came,
And bears the Fortunate Canaries name;
In all our woods none boafts fo fweet a note,
Not ev❜n the nightingale's melodious throat.
Accept of this; and could I add befide
What wealth the rich Peruvian mountains hide;
If all the gems in Eaftern rocks were mine,
On thee alone their glitt'ring pride should shine.