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The same modernized.

Blithe Coun fat on the green hill,

His flocks feeding carelesly round,
His pipe did the wide forest fill,

And echo reply'd to the sound.
Young Lucy, with Love in her eye,

That evening trip'd over the glade ;
She look'd at the Swain, with a figh
That spoke the fond with of a maid.

Ah, Colir, he cried, can you love; ·

Or must your poor Lucy despair lot
No passion my bosom Cati move,

Said COLIN, 'my Flocks are my care.
My pleasure to feed a few sheep,

That wander along this gay grove;
But, Shepherdess, why do you weep.
O, tell me what is it to love?

Let Love thy soft bosom beguile,

Then, COLIN, rake counsel of the
Still wear the sweet look of a smile,

Be resolute, tender, and free.
Tho' filently fall the fond tear

And pensive in private thy mind,
Still blithe in her presence appear,
Be patient, and prudent, and kind.

No paflion my bofom shall move,

The Shepherd reply'd, with an air ;
My heart is a stranger to Love,

And I cannot but smile at your care,
The evening is chearful and bright,

And my sheep are all ranging along,
Should they wander quite out of my fight,
I may rue that I prated so long,

O Cotin, attend to my tale,

And do not my fondness upbraid,
But let my soft wishes prevail,

And taste the first Love of a Maid.
Since forrow is follow'd by pleasure,

And laughter fucceeds to a ligh,
Ah, let me not moarn beyond measure,

Nor languish for. COLIN, and dis.
Rev. March, 1762.



If, Lucy, you'll meet me to-morrow,

Then haply my sheep may not rove;
No time shall be yielded to forrow:

We'll lie in this grotto, and love.
But, Shepherdefs, this is my reason,

You fee my flocks wander altray,
To trifle were now out of season,
We cannot be happy to-day.

Ah, Colin, you rob me of reft,

You only possess my fond heart.--
See, Lucy, the sun's going west,

And the day just about to depart.-Dear Colin, my forrows increase.

Indeed my poor heart will be broke :-
Dear Lucy, e'en love whom you plcase,
For in troth 'tis to me but a joke.

How oft have I stood by yon Itile,

O Colin, and languilh d alone!
We've food here a wonderful while,

Said Colin, 'tis time to be gone. Yet look on thy Love with a smile,

Een tho' I no more can obtain :-
Seek some other Swain to beguile,
To me thy caresses are vain.

Then Colin walk'd over the plain,

As light as the leaf on the tree,
And left the poor Nymph to complain,

That a Shepherd fo cruel could be. And bliche as he whistled away,

She sent her last words with a sigh;
Tis Colin's to sing and be gay,
'Tis Lucy's to love and to die,

She spoke and continued to weep,

As the wearily wander'd the vale ;
While Colin assembled his sheep,

To feed in a beautiful dale.
But wounded that moment by Love,

He felt a new pulse in his heart;
Then haftily few to the grove

From whence he saw Lucy depart.


Aay, pretty Maiden, he cried,
'Tis Colin intreats you to day,

Your Your Love shall no more be denied,

So prithee don't wander away.
Believe me, to have thy fond heart

Is all that thy COLIN defires ;
And my flock, if it will, may depart,
But it now no more tending requires.

No, Colin, you've often heard say,

And you'll find that the proverb holds good, That bewbe WILL NOT when he

may, Shall fure be denied when he wou'o. And I with froin my heart that each Maid,

Who offers to COLIN her Love,
And like me should by him be repaid,
As cold and as careless may prove.

How mild and how clear is the ky!

The evening how chearful and gay!
And, behold, the green-wood is hard by,

Where Lovers at leifure may Atray.
No fpy shall our pleasures javade,

No jealousy enter the grove,
We may safely repose in the shade,
And give the dear moments to Love.

No, Colin, those hopes are no more,

Thy vows and thy withes are vain ;
The Love that you fighted before

Shall never be offer'd again. When I unavailingly mourn'd,

With my pain and my passion you play'd,
So your grief thall like Lucy's be fcorn'd,
And your Love shall like her's be repaid.

O Lucy, the Hope of my Heart,

My Pleasure, my Love, and my Joy!
Be mine, and we never shall part,

No time thall my passion dettroy.
Like others, unwilling to range,

Or quit my old Love for a new.-
As foon as you please you may change,
Said Lucy, fo, Colin, adieu !

Then carelesly over the vale

She trip'd it away with a song,
And Colin was left to bewail
The Love that he Nighted so long.

All under the rock as he lay,

And his fheep in the green forest kept,
In forrow he pass’d the sad day,
And over the wild rushes wept.


The Banquet. A Dialogue of Plato concerning Love. The first

Part. 4to. 45.

4to. 45. Sandby. T is always with concern that we behold a Writer of

distinguished learning and abilities, mispend his talents on subjects not likely to engage that general attention which is due to his merit. It is in this light that we view the labours of Mr. Sydenham, who has undertaken a work which demands great skill and application, and for which he has fhewn himself eminently qualified; yet nevertheless we fear that it will not be attended with those advantages which we could wish, and which the Translator deferves. He has, beyond doubt, a thorough knowlege of his original; his notes are replete with erudition, and prove him intimately acquainted with the language, and minutest history of Greece. But, to say the whole in one word, Plato is unfashionable. There have been few, it is thought, if any, Platonic Lovers; and we may venture to say, that the number of Platonic Readers is now very inconsiderable. The piece before us, however, promifes more general entertainment than any of the preceding ones; for it treats of that inexhaustible and ever pleasing subject-Love. Nevertheless the Dialogue is not altogether conducted in a manner suitable to the modern taste. For though it affords abundant matter on which to exercise ferious thought and philosophical speculation, yet it is not interspersed with those warm images, which quicken the pulse. As our limits will not permit us to enter upon minute animadversions in any article of this nature, it will suffice to give our Readers a short abstract of the Argument, which will enable them to form a general idea of the design and eonduct of the piece.

The Speakers in this Dialogue are fix ;– Phædrus; Pausanias, Eryximachus, Aristophanes, Agatho, and Socrates. The first of them, Phædrus, was a young gentleman of the most ingenuous disposition, modest, candid, and a lover of truth; refined, elevated, and heroic in his sentiments. His diction pure and elegant; the periods round and well turned; but exemplifying the fame sentiments, over and over again, in va



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riety of language: and where the sentiments are various, void of all method or order in ranging them. The next speech is that of Pausanias, who appears to have been a statesman or politician, a great admirer of both the Spartan and Athenian laws, and an enemy to all other systems of government and manners. His style is clear and distinct, and he divides his subject properly ; is profuse in ornaments, and rather too nice and accurate ; diffuse and ample in his sentiments, though not in his expressions; and taking a large compass of argument in the coming to his point. The next speaker to Pausanias is Eryximachus, whose profession was that of physic or medicine ; and his speech is suitable to his profellion : for he considers the subject in a more extensive view. Beginning from the human body, both in its sound and morbid state, he goes on like a thorough naturalist, and pursues his instances through every part of nature, earth, air, and sky, up to that which vulgarly was deemed divine. Next after him speaks Aristophanes, that celebrated comic poet, through whose comedies, such at least as are still remaining, runs the same rich vein of humour, the same lively and redundant wit, the same licentiousness of sentiment and language, the same buffoon-like ridicule and drollery on the Gods, and the same loud pretension to piety and religion, which characterize his speech in the Banquet. The next speech is made by Agatho, the donor of the feast. Agatho was at this time a young man of a large fortune, generous, magnificent, and polished in his manners. His language is extremely poetical, florid, and abounding with metaphors.' The last speaker on the subject is Socrates. He delivers nothing as from himself, but introduces another perfon alluming the majestical airs of a teacher, yet condescending, gentle, and affable.

Such is the Nyle and character of the composition. The subject proposed to be spoken of is “ The Praise of Love,” simply and generally; and the speech of Phædrus, who proposed it, takes the word Love in a general sense, so as to comprehend Love towards persons of the same sex, commonly called Friendship, as well as that towards persons of a different sex, peculiarly and eminently styled Love. Pausanias distin guishes between Love of the Mind and Love merely of the Body, proving them to be affections of very different kinds, because productive of very different effects. - Eryximachus considers Love as that universal principle in nature, which attracts, unites, or associates one thing to another in a regular O 3

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