Attend, my lovely maid, and know
To profit by th' instructive show.
Now young and blooming thou appears,
All in the flourish of thy years;
The lovely bud fhall foon difclofe
To ev'ry eye the blushing rofe;
Now, now, the tender stalk is feen,
With beauty fresh, and ever green :
But when the funny hours are past,
Think not the coz'ning scene will last;
Let not the flatterer, Hope, persuade,
Ah! must I say that it will fade?
For fee the fummer flies away,
Sad emblem of our own decay!
Now winter from the frozen north,
Drives swift his iron chariot forth.
His grisly hands in icy chains
Fair Tweda's filver ftream constrains :
Caft up thy eyes, how bleak and bare
He wanders on the tops of Yare!
Behold his footsteps dire are seen
Confeft o'er ev'ry with'ring green.
Griev'd at the fight, when thou shalt see
A snowy wreath to cloath each tree;
Frequenting now the stream no more,
Thou fleeft, displeas'd, the frozen shore.
When thou shalt miss the flow'rs that grew
But late, to charm thy ravish'd view;
Then shall a figh thy foul invade,
And o'er thy pleasures caft a fhade;
Shall I, ah! horrid! wilt thou fay,
Be like to this fome other day?
But when in fnow and dreary frost
The pleasure of the field is loft,
To blazing hearths at home we run,
And fires fupply the diftant fun;
In gay delights our hours employ,
And do not lofe, but change our joy :
Happy! abandon ev'ry care,
To lead the dance, to court the fair.
To turn the page of facred bards,
To drain the bowl, and deal the cards.
In cities thus, with witty friends,
In fmiles the hoary season ends.
But when the lovely white and red
From the pale ashy cheek is fled,
Then wrinkles dire and age fevere,
Make beauty fly we know not where.
The fair, whom Fates unkind disarm,
Ah! muft they ever cease to charm?
Or is there left some pleasing art,
To keep fecure a captive heart?
Unhappy love! may lovers say,
Beauty, thy food does swift decay;
When once that short-liv'd stock is spent,
What is't thy famine can prevent?
Lay in good sense with timeous care,
That Love may live on Wisdom's fare;
Tho' Ecftacy with Beauty flies,
Esteem is born when Beauty dies.
Happy the man whom Fates decree
Their richest gift in giving thee:
Thy beauty shall his youth engage,
Thy wisdom shall delight his age.
Banks of Forth.
WAKE, my love, with genial ray
The fun returning glads the day;
Awake, the balmy zephyr blows,
The hawthorn blooms, the daisie glows,
The trees regain their verdant pride,
The turtle wooes his tender bride,
To love each warbler tunes the fong,
And Forth in dimples glides along.
O more than blooming daisies fair!
More fragrant than the vernal air!
More gentle than the turtle-dove,
Or ftreams that murmer through the grove!
Bethink thee all is on the wing,
These pleasures wait on wafting spring;
Then come, the transient bliss enjoy;
Nor fear what fleets fo faft will cloy.
YE fylvan pow'rs that rule the plain,
Where sweetly-winding Fortha glides,
Conduct me to these banks again,
Since there my charming MOLLY bides. These banks that breathe their vernal sweets, Where ev'ry smiling beauty meets;
Where MOLLY's charms adorn the plain, And chear the heart of ev'ry swain.
Thrice happy were the golden days,
When I, amidst the rural throng,
On Fortha's meadows breath'd my lays,
And MOLLY'S charms were all my song.
While she was present all were gay,
No forrow did our mirth allay;
We fung of pleasure, fung of love,
And music breath'd in ev'ry grove.
O then was I the happiest swain !
No adverse fortune marr'd my joy;
The shepherd figh'd for her in vain,
On me she smil'd, to them was coy.
O'er Fortha's mazy banks we strayed:
I woo'd, I lov'd the beauteous maid;
The beauteous maid my love return'd,
And both with equal ardour burn'd.
Once on the graffy bank reclin'd,
Where Forth ran by in murmurs deep,
It was my happy chance to find
The charming MOLLY lull'd asleep:
My heart then leap'd with inward bliss,
I foftly stoop'd, and stole a kiss;
She wak'd, she blush'd, and faintly blam'd, Why, DAMON, are you not asham'd ?
Oft in the thick embow'ring groves, Where birds their music chirp'd aloud, Alternately we fung our loves,
And Fortha's fair meanders view'd.
The meadows wore a gen'ral smile,
Love was our banquet all the while;
The lovely prospect charm'd the eye,
To where the ocean met the sky.
Ye fylvan powers, ye rural gods,
To whom we fwains our cares impart,
Restore me to these bless'd abodes,
And ease, oh ease! my love-fick heart;
These happy days again restore,
When MOLL and I shall part no more ;
When she shall fill these longing arms,
And crown my blifs with all her charms.
EAR me, ye nymphs, and ev'ry swain,
I'll tell how PEGGY grieves me;
Though thus I languish, thus complain,
Alas! fhe ne'er believes me.
My vows and fighs, like filent air,
Unheeded never move her.
At the bonny bush aboon Traquair,
'Twas there I firft did love her.
That day she smil'd, and made me glad,
No maid feem'd ever kinder;
I thought myself the luckiest lad,
So fweetly there to find her.
I try'd to foothe my am'rous flame,
In words that I thought tender;
If more there pass'd I'm not to blame,
I meant not to offend her.
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