My vital bloom would thus be froze

If luckless torn from thee;

For what the root is to the rose,
My Delia is to me.

IV.

Two doves I found, like new-fall'n snow,

So white the beauteous pair! The birds to Delia I'll bestow; They're like her bosom fair!

When in their chaste connubial love

WHEN Phillis was faithful, and fond as she's fair, .
I twisted young roses in wreaths for my hair;
But, ah! the sad willow's a shade for my brows,
For Phillis no longer remembers her vows!

To the groves with young Colin the shepherdess flies,
While Damon disturbs the still plains with his sighs.

PHIL. Bethink you, false Damon! before you up

braid:

When Phoebe's fair lambkin had yesterday stray'd,
Thro' the woodlands you wander'd, poor Phillis forgot!
And drove the gay rambler quite home to her cot.
A swain so deceitful no damsel can prize;
'Tis Phoebe, not Phillis, lays claim to your sighs.

DAM. Like summer's full season young Phoebe is
Her manners are graceful, untainted her mind! [kind;
The sweets of contentment her cottage adorn;
She's fair as the rose-bud, and fresh as the Morn!
She smiles like Pomona---These smiles I'd resign,
If Phillis were faithful, and deign'd to be mine.

PHIL. On the tabor young Colin so prettily plays, He sings me sweet sonnets, and writes in my praise! He chose me his true-love last Valentine-day, When birds satlike bridegrooms all pair'd on the spray; Yet I'd drive the gay shepherd far, far from my mind, If Damon, the rover, were constant and kind. [range, DAM. Fine folks, my sweet Phillis! may revel and But fleeting's the pleasure that's founded on change! In the villager's cottage such constancy springs, That peasants with pity may look down on kings. To the church then let's hasten, our transports to bind, And Damon will always prove faithful and kind.

PHIL. To the church then let's hasten, our trans

ports to bind,

And Phillis will always prove faithful and kind.

CORYDON:

A PASTORAL,

To the Memory of William Shenstone, Esq.

I.

COME, Shepherds! we'll follow the hearse,

We'll see our lov'd Corydon laid! Tho' sorrow may blemish the verse, Yet let a sad tribute be paid.

They call'd him the Pride of the Plain;
In sooth he was gentle and kind!
He mark'd on his elegant strain
The graces that glow'd in his mind.

II.

On purpose he planted yon' trees,
That birds in the covert might dwell;
He cultur'd his thyme for the bees,
But never would rifle their cell.

Ye Lambkins! that play'd at his feet,
Go bleat---and your master bemoan;

His music was artless and sweet,

His manners as mild as your own.

III.

No verdure shall cover the vale,
No bloom on the blossoms appear;
The sweets of the forest shall fail,
And winter discolour the year.

No birds in our hedges shall sing,
(Our hedges, so vocal before!)
Since he that should welcome the spring
Salutes the gay season no more.

IV.

His Phillis was fond of his praise,
And poets came round in a throng;
They listen'd---they envy'd his lays,
But which of them equall'd his song?

Ye Shepherds! henceforward be mute,
For lost is the pastoral strain;
So give me my Corydon's flute,
And thus---let me break it in twain.

CORYDON AND PHILLIS:

A PASTORAL.

I.

HER sheep had in clusters crept close by the grove,

To hide from the rigours of day,

nd Phillis herself, in a woodbine alcove, Among the fresh violets lay:

A youngling, it seems, had been stole from its dam, ('Twixt Cupid and Hymen a plot)

That Corydon might, as he search'd for his lamb,
Arrive at this critical spot.

11.

As thro' the gay hedge for his lambkin he peeps,
He saw the sweet maid with surprise:

"Ye Gods! if so killing," he cry'd, "when she sleeps, "I'm lost when she opens her eyes!

"To tarry much longer would hazard my heart,

"I'll onwards, my lambkin to trace."

In vain honest Corydon strove to depart,
For Love had him nail'd to the place.

III.

"Hush, hush'd be these birds---what a bawling they He cry'd;" you're too loud on the spray: [keep!" "Don't you see, foolish Lark! that the charmer's "You'll wake her as sure as 'tis day.

[asleep?

"How dare that fond butterfly touch the sweet maid! "Her cheek he mistakes for the rose:

"I'd pat him to death, if I was not afraid

My boldness would break her repose."

IV.

Young Phillis look'd up with a languishing smile:
"Kind Shepherd," she said, "you mistake;
"I laid myself down just to rest me a while,
"But, trust me, have still been awake."