Recall thy fenfes, and to work with speed;
Of many utenfils thou ftand'ft in need.
Fall to thy labour, quit the peevish boy;
Time, or fome new defire, fhall this destroy.
YOUNG Corydon, hard fate! an humble fwain,
Alexis lov'd, the joy of all the plain;
He lov'd, but could not hope for love again;
Yet every day through groves he walk'd alone,
And vainly told the hills and woods his moan:
Cruel Alexis! can't my verses move?
Haft thou no pity? muft I die for love?
Juft now the flocks pursue the fhades and cool,
And every lizard creeps into his hole :
Brown Theftylis the weary reapers feeks,
And brings their meat, their onions, and their leeks:
And whilft I trace thy steps, in every tree
And every bush, poor infects figh with me::
Ah! had it not been better to have borne
The peevish Amaryllis' frown and scorn,
Or elfe Menalcas, than this deep despair?
Though he was black, and thou art lovely fair!
*The fhepherd Corydon woos Alexis; but finding he could not prevail, he refolves to follow his affairs, and forget his paffion. CREECH.
† See an account of Mr. Creech, vol. I. p. 230. N.
See how the nymphs with lilies wait on thee:
Fair Naïs, fcarce thyself so fair as she,
With poppies, daffadils, and violets join'd,
A garland for thy fofter brow has twin'd.
Myfelf with downy peaches will appear,
And chefnuts, Amaryllis' dainty cheer:
I'll crop my laurel, and my myrtle tree,
Together bound, because their sweets agree.
Unbred thou art, and homely, Corydon,
Nor will Alexis with thy gifts be won :
Nor canft thou hope, if gifts his mind could sway,
That rich Iölas would to thee give way.
Ah me! while I fond wretch indulge my dreams,
Winds blaft my flowers, and boars bemire my ftreams.
Whom fly'ft thou? Gods themselves have had abode
In woods, and Paris equal to a God.
Let Pallas in the towns fhe built refide,
''To me a grove's worth all the world befide : Lions chace wolves, thofe wolves a kid in prime, That kid feeks heaths of flowering thyme, very
While Corydon purfues with equal flame,
Alexis, thee; each has his feveral game.
See how the ox unyok'd brings hone the plough,
The fhades increasing as the fun goes low.
Bleft fields reliev'd by night's approach so soon,
Love has no night! 'tis always raging noon!
Ah Corydon ! what frenzy fills thy breast?
Thy vineyard lies half prun'd and half undrest.
Luxurious fprouts fhut out the ripening ray,
The branches fhorn, not yet remov'd away.
Recall thy fenfes, and to work with speed;
Of many utenfils thou ftand'ft in need.
Fall to thy labour, quit the peevish boy ;
Time, or fome new defire, fhall this destroy.
YOUNG Corydon, hard fate! an humble fwain,
Alexis lov'd, the joy of all the plain;
He lov'd, but could not hope for love again;
Yet every day through groves he walk'd alone,
And vainly told the hills and woods his moan:
Cruel Alexis! can't my verses move?
Haft thou no pity? muft I die for love?
Juft now the flocks purfue the fhades and cool,
lizard creeps
every
Brown Theftylis the weary reapers feeks,
And brings their meat, their onions, and their leeks :
And whilft I trace thy fteps, in every tree
And every bush, poor infects figh with me:
Ah! had it not been better to have borne
The peevish Amaryllis' frown and fcorn,
Or else Menalcas, than this deep despair?
Though he was black, and thou art lovely fair!
The fhepherd Corydon woos Alexis; but finding he could not prevail, he refolves to follow his affairs, and forget his paffion. CREECH.
+ See an account of Mr. Creech, vol. I. p. 230. N.
Ah, charming beauty! 'tis a fading grace,
Truft not too much, fweet youth, to that fair face :
Things are not always us'd that please the fight,
We gather black-berries when we scorn the white.
Thou doft defpife me, thou doft fcorn my flame,
Yet doft not know me, nor how rich I am :
A thousand tender lambs, a thousand kine,
A thoufand goats I feed, and all are mine:
My dairy 's full, and my large herd affords,
Summer and winter, cream, and milk, and curds,
I pipe as well, as when through Theban plains
Amphion fed his flocks, or charm'd the fwains.
Nor is my face fo mean; I lately stood,
And view'd my figure in the quiet flood,
And think myfelf, though it were judg'd by you,
As fair as Daphnis, if that glafs be true.
Oh that, with me, thee humble plains would please,
The quiet fields, and lowly cottages!
Oh that with me you'd live, and hunt the hare,
Or drive the kids, or spread the fowling fnare!
Then we would fing like Pan in fhady groves ;
Pan taught us pipes, and Pan our art approves :
Pan both the fheep and harmless fhepherd loves.
Nor muft you think the pipe too mean for you;
To learn to pipe, what won't Amyntas do?
I have a pipe, well-season'd, brown, and try'd;
Which good Damætas left me when he died:
He said, Here, take it for a legacy,
Thou art my fecond, it belongs to thee;
He faid, and dull Amyntas envy'd me.
Befides, I found two wanton kids at play
In yonder vale, and those I brought away,
Young fportive creatures, and of spotted hue,
Which fuckle twice a-day, I keep for you :
Thefe Theftylis hath begg'd, and begg'd in vain,
But now they 're hers, fince you my gifts difdain
Come, lovely boy, the nymphs their baskets fill,
With
poppy, violet, and daffadil,
The rofe, and thoufand other fragrant flowers,
To pleafe thy fenfes in thy fofteft hours;
Thefe Naïs gathers to delight my boy,
Come, dear Alexis, be no longer coy.
I'll feek for chefnuts too in every grove,,
Such as my Amaryllis us'd to love.
The gloffy plumbs and juicy pears I'll bring,.
Delightful all, and many a pretty thing:
The laurel and the neighbouring myrtle tree,
Confus'dly planted 'cause they both agree
And prove more fweet, fhall fend their boughs to thee.
Ah, Corydon thou art a foolish swain,
coy Alexis doth thy gifts difdain;
Or if gifts could prevail, if gifts could woo,,
Iölas can prefent him more than you.
What doth the madman mean? he idly brings
Storms on his flowers, and boars into his fprings.
Ah! whom doft thou avoid? whom fly the Gods,
And charming Paris too, have liv'd in woods :
Let Pallas, the whofe art firft rais'd a town,
Live there, let us delight in woods alone :
The boar the wolf, the woif the kid pursues,
The kid her thyme, as faft as t' other does,
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