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So Phyllis the trophy despise ;
So they thine not in Phyllis's eyes.
she beware of his art,
And take no more heed of my sheep:
I have nothing to do, but to weep. Yet do not my folly reprove ;
She was fair-and my paflion begun;
Perhaps it was plain to forsee,
By a fwain more engaging than me.
It banishes wisdom the while;
Ye that witness the woes I endure,
What it cannot instruct you to cure.
Amid nymphs of an higher degree:
What hope of an end to my woes ?
The glance that undid my repose. Yet time may diminish the pain :
The flow'r, and the shrub, and the tree,
The sound of a murmuring stream,
Henceforth fall be Corydon's theme. High transports are shewn to the fight,
But we are not to find them our own; Fate never beftow'd such delight,
As I with my Phyllis had known.
To your deepest recesses I Ay;
I would vanish from every eye.
reed shall resound thro' the grove
Was faithless, and I am undone !
INDEX to the Fourth Volume.
E un to "Adverfity
LEGY in a Country Church-yard
Education, a Poem
Address of the Statues at Stow to Lord Cobham