For death-what do I fay? Yes, death
Must surely end my days,

If cruel Cynthia flights my faith,
And will not hear my lays.

No more with feftive garlands bound,
I at the wake shall be ;

No more my feet fhall prefs the ground
In dance with wonted glee;
No more my little flock I'll keep,

To fome dark cave I'll fly;
I've nothing now to do but weep,
To mourn my fate, and figh.
Ah! Cynthia, thy Damon's cries
Are heard at dead of night;
But they, alas! are doom'd to rife
Like fmoak upon the fight.
They rife in vain, ah me! in vain
Are fcatter'd in the wind;
Cynthia does not know the pain

That rankles in my mind.

If fleep perhaps my eye-lids clofe,
'Tis but to dream of you;
A while I ceafe to feel my woes,
Nay, think I'm happy too.

I think I prefs with kiffes pure,
Your lovely rofy lips,

And you're my bride, I think I'm fure,
Till gold the mountain tips.
When wak'd, aghaft I look around,
And find my charmer flown;
Then bleeds afresh my galling wound,
While I am left alone.

Take pity then, O gentleft maid!
On thy poor Damon's heart:
Remember what I've often faid,
'Tis you can cure my fmart.

JEMMY DAWSON,

But curfe on party's hateful ftrife,
That led the favour'd youth astray;
The day the rebel clans apper'd,

O had he never seen that day!
Their colours and their fafh he wore,
And in the fatal drefs was found;
And now he must that death endure,

Which gives the brave the keenelt wound. How pale was then his true-love's cheek, When Jemmy's fentence reach'd her ear! For never yet did Alpine nows

So pale, or yet so chill appear.
With faultering voice, fhe weeping faid,
Oh Dawfon, monarch of my heart;
Think not thy death fhall end our loves,
For thou and I will never part.
Yet might fweet mercy find a place,

And bring relief to Jemmy's woes ;
O George, without a prayer for thee,
My orizons fhould never close.
The gracious prince that gave him life,
Would crown a never-dying flame;
And every tender babe I bore

Should learn to lifp the giver's name.
But though he should be dragg'd in fcorn
To yonder ignominious tree;

He fhall not want one constant friend
To share the cruel fates' decree.

O then her mourning coach was call'd,
The fledge mov'd flowly on before;
Though borne in a triumphal car,

She had not lov'd her favourite more.
She follow'd him, prepar'd to view
The terrible behefts of law;
And the last scene of Jemmy's woes,
With calm and ftedfaft eye fhe faw.
Distorted was that blooming face,

Which she had fondly lov'd fo long;
And stifled was that tuneful breath,

Which in her praise had sweetly fung.,

And fever'd was that beauteous neck,
Round which her arms had fondly clos'd;

Execution, in the year :745.

NOME liften to my mournful tale,

Nor will you fcorn to heave a figh,

Nor need you blufh to shed a tear. And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid, Do thou a penfive ear incline; For thou canft weep at every woe;

And pity every plaint-but mine. Young Dawfon was a gallant boy,

A brighter never trod the plain; And well he lov'd one charming maid, And dearly was he lov'd again. One tender maid, the lev'd him dear Of gentle blood the damfel came; And faultlefs was her beauteous form, And spotlefs was her virgin fame.

On which her love-fick head repos'd: And ravish'd was that conftant heart, She did to every heart prefer ; For though it could its King forget, 'I was true and loyal still to her. Amid these unrelenting flames,

She bore this conftant heart to fee; But when 'twas moulder'd into duft, Yet, yet, fhe cry'd, I follow thee. My death, my death alone can fhew The pure, the lafting love 1 bore; Accept. O heaven! of woes like ours, And let us, let us weep no more. The difmal fcene was o'er and past,

The lover's mournful hear fe retir'd; The maid drew back her languid head, And, fighing forth his name, expir'd.

Though

Though justice ever must prevail, The tear my Kitty fheds is due : For feldom fhall fhe hear a tale

So fad, fo tender, yet so true.

A Paftoral BALLAD, in Four Parts. 1743.

"Arbufta humilesque myrice." VIRG.

YE

I. ABSENCE.

E fhepherds fo chearful and gay, Whofe flocks never carelessly roam; Should Corydon's happen to stray,

Oh! call the poor wanderers home. Allow me to mufe and to figh,

Nor talk of the change that ye find; None once was fo watchful I;

I have left my dear Phillis behind. Now I know what it is, to have strove With the torture of doubt and defire; What it is to admire and to love,

And to leave her we love and admire. Ah, lead forth my flock in the morn, And the damps of each evening repel; Alas! I am faint and forlorn :

-I have bade my dear Phillis farewel. Since Phillis vouchfaf'd me a look,

I never once dreamt of my vine: May I loose both my pipe and my crook, If I knew of a kid that was mine.

I priz'd every hour that went by,

Beyond all that had pleas'd me before; But now they are paft, and 1 figh;

And I grieve that I priz'd them no more. But why do I languish in vain;

Why wander thus penfively here?
Oh! why did I come from the plain,
Where I fed on the fmiles of my dear?
They tell me, my favourite maid,

The pride of the valley, is flown
Alas! where with her I have stray'd,

I could wander with pleasure, alone. When forc'd the fair nymph to forego, What anguish I felt at my heart! Yet I thought-but it might not be fo 'Twas with pain that she saw me depart. She gaz'd, as I flowly withdrew;

My path I could hardly difcern;
So fweetly the bid me adien,

I thought that she bade me return.
The Pilgrim that journeys all day
To vifit fome far-distant shrine,
If he bear but a relique away,

Is happy, nor heard to repine.
Thus widely remov'd from the fair,
Where my vows, my devotion, I owe,
Soft hope is the relique I bear,
And my folace wherever I go.

M

II. HOPE.

Y banks they are furnish'd with bees. Whofe murmur invites one to fleep; My grottos are shaded with trees,

And my hills are white over with sheep. I feldom have met with a lofs,

Such health do my fountains bestow; My fountains all border'd with mofs, Where the hare-bells and violets grow. Not a pine in my grove is there seen, But with tendrils of woodbine is bound: Not a beech's more beautiful green,

But a fweet-briar entwines it around. Not my fields, in the prime of the year, More charms than my cattle unfold ; Not a brook that is limpid and clear,

But it glitters with fishes of gold. One would think she might like to retire

To the bower I have labour'd to rear; Not a fhrub that I heard her admire,

But I hafted and planted it there. O how fudden the jeffamine ftrove With the lilac to render it gay! Already it calls for my love,

To prune the wild branches away.

From the plains, from the woodlands and groves,
What trains of wild melody flow!
How the nightingales warble their loves
From thickets of roses that blow !
And when her bright form fhall appear,
Each bird fhal! harmoniously join
In a concert fo foft and fo clear,

As he may not be fond to refign.

I have found out a gift for my fair;

I have found where the wood-pigeons breed : But let me that plunder forbear,

She will fay 'twas a barbarous deed.
For he ne'er could be true, the aver'd,

Who could rob a poor bird of its young;
And I lov'd her the more whe I heard
Such tenderness fall from her tongue.
I have heard her with fweetnef- unfoll
How that pity was due to-a dove:
That it ever attended the bold;

And the call'd it the fifter of love.
But her words fuch a pleasure convey,
So much I her accents adore,
Let her fpeak, and whatever the fav,
Methinks I fhould love her the more.
Can a bofom fo gentle remain

Unmov d, when her Corydon fighs!
Will a nymph that is fond of the plain,
Thefe plains and this valley defpi?
Dear regions of fil.nce and shade!

Soft fcenes of contentment and eafe!
Where I could have pleafingiy tray'd,
If aught, in her abience, could pleafe.
But where does my Phyllida ftray?

And where are her grots and her bowers?
Are the groves and the valleys as pay,
And the thepherds as gentle as ours?

The

WH

HY will you my paffion reprove ?
Why term it a folly to grieve?
Ere I fhew you the charms of my love,
She is fairer than you can believe.
With her mien fhe enamours the brave;
With her wit fhe engages the free ;
With her modefty pleafes the grave;
She is every way pleafing to me.
O you that have been of her train,

Come and join in my amorous lays;
I could lay down my life for the fwain,

That will fing but a fong in her praife.
When he fings, may the nymphs of the town
Come trooping, and liften the while;
Nay on him let not Phyllidá frown;
-But I cannot allow her to imile.
For when Paridel tries in the dance
Any favour with Phyllis to find,
O how, with one trivial glance,
Might the ruin the peace of my mind !
In ringlets he dreffes his hair,

And his crook is beftudded around;
And his pipe-oh my Phylls beware
Of a magic there is in the found.
'Tis his with mock paffion to glow,

"Tis his in fmooth tales to unfold,
"How her face is as bright as the fnow,
And her bofom, be fure, is as cold.
'How the nightingales labour the ftrain,
With the notes of his charmer to vie ;
How they vary their accents in vain,
Repine at her triumphs, and die."
To the grove or the garden he strays,
And pillages every sweet;
Then, fuiting the wreath to his lays
He throws it at Phyllis's feet.
"O Phyllis, he whifpers, more fair,

More fweet than the jeffamine s flower! What are pinks in a morn, to compare? What is eglantine, after a fhower? Then the lily no longer is white;

Then the rofc is depriv'd of its bloom; Then the violets die with defpight,

And the wood-bines give up their perfume,"

Thus glide the foft numbers along,

And he fancies no fhepherd his peer;
-Yet I never thould envy the fong,
Were not Phyllis to lend it an ear.
Let his crook be with hyacinths bound,
So Phyllis the trophy defpife:
Let his forehead with laurels be crown'd,
So they fine not in Phyllis's eyes.

IV. DISAPPOINTMENT.

E fhepherds, give ear to my lay, And take no more heed of my sheep: They have nothing to do but to ftray; I have nothing to do but to weep. Yet do not my folly reprove;

She e was fair-and my paffion begun;
She fmil'd-and I could not but love;
She is faithlefs-and I am undone.
Perhaps was void of all thought:
Perhaps it was plain to forefce,
That a nymph fo complete would be fought
By a fwain more engaging than me.
Ah! love every hope can infpire:
It banishes wisdom the while;
And the lip of the nymph we admire
Seems for ever adorn d with a fmile.
She is faithlefs, and I am undone;

Ye that witness the woes I endure;
Let reason infruct you to fhun
What it cannot inftru&t you to cure.
Beware how you loiter in vain

mid nymphs of an higher degree;
It is not for me to explain
How fair, and how fickle, they be.
Abs from the day that we met,
What ope of an end to my woes?
When I cannot en lure to forget

The glance that undid my repofe
Yet time may diminish the pain:

The flower, and the fhrub, and the tree, Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain, In time may have comfort for me. The fweets of a dew-fprinkled rose,

The found of a murmuring ftream, The peace which from folitude flows, Henceforth fhall be Corydon's theme. High tranfperts are fewn to the fight; But we are not to find them our own; Tate never beflow'd fuch delight,

As I with my Phyllis had known.

O ye woods, fpread your branches apace;
To your deepest receffes I fly;

I would hide with the beafts of the clafe;
I would vanish from every cyc.
Yet my reed fhall refound through the grove
With the fame fad complaint it begun;
How fhe fmil d, and I could not but love;
Was faithlefs, and I am undone !

LEVITIES

LEVITIES;

OR

PIECES of HUMOUR.

Poor Gratia in her twentieth year,
Fore-feeing future woe,
Chofe to attend a monkey here,
Before an ape below.

A

FLIRT and PHIL;

A Decifion for the Ladies.

WIT, by learning well refin'd,
A beau, but of the rural kind,
To Sylvia made pretences;
They both profefs'd an equal love :
Yet hop'd by different means to move
Her judgment or her fenfes.

Young fprightly Flirt, of blooming mien,
Watch'd the best minutes to be feen;

Went-when his his glafs advis'd him;
While meagre Phil of books enquir'd;
A wight, for wit and parts admir'd;
And witty ladies priz'd him.

Sylvia had wit, had spirits too:
To hear the one, the other view,

Sufpended held the fcales:

Her wit, her youth too, claim'd its share.
Let none the preference declare,
But turn up-heads or tails.

STANZAS

To the memory of an agreeable Lady, buried in marriage to a perfon undeferving her.

WAS always held, and ever will,

"Ty fage mankind, difereeter, T'anticipate a leffer ill,

Than undergo a greater.

When mortals dread diseases, pain,

And languifbing conditions;
Who don't the leffer ill fuftain
Of phyfic and phyficians?

Rather than lose his whole estate,
He that but little wife is,
Full gladly pays four parts in eight
To taxes and excifes

Our merchants Spain has near undone
For loft fhips not requiting.
This bears our noble king. to fhun
The lofs of blood-in fighting!
With numerous ills, in fingle life,
The bachelor's attended :..
Such to avoid, he takes a wife-
And much the cafe is mended!
VOL V.I.

COLEMIRA.

A Culinary ECLOGUE.

"Nec tantum Veneris, quantum ftudiofa culinæ."

N'

[IGHT's fable clouds had half the world o'erfpread,

And filence reign'd, and folks were gone to bed: When love, which gentle fleep can ne'er infpire, Had feated Damon by the kitchen fire.

Penfive he lay, extended on the ground; The little lares kept their vigils round; The fawning cats compaffionate his cafe, And pur around, and gently lick his face :

To all his plain's the fleeping curs reply, And with hoarfe fnorings imitate a figh. Such gloomy fcenes with lovers' minds agree, And folitude to them is best society.

Could I (he cried) exprefs, how bright a grace Adorns thy morning hands, and well-wafh'd face; Thou wouldft, Colemira, grant what I implore, And yield me love, or wafh thy face no more.

Ah! who can fee, and feeing not admire, Whene'er the fets the pot upon the fire! Her hands out-fhine the fire, and redder things; Her eyes are blacker than the pots fhe brings.

But fure no chamber-damfel can compare, When in meridian luftre fhines my fair, When warm'd with dinner's toil, in pearly tills, Adown her goodly cheek the fweat diftills.

Oh how I long, how ardently defire, To view thofe rofy fingers ftrike the lyre! For late, when bees to change their climes began, How did I fee them thrum the frying-pan !

With her! I should not envy George his queen, Though the in royal grandeur deck'd be feen: While rags, juft fever'd from my fair one's gown, In ruffet pomp and greafy pride hang down.

Ah! now it does my drooping heart rejoice, When in the hall I hear thy mellow voice! How would that voice exceed the village bell; Would that but fing," I like thee paffing well!

When from the hearth fhe bade the pointers go, How foft! how eafy did her accents flow! **Get out, fhe cry'd, when frangers come to fup, "One ne'er can raife thefe fnoring devils up."

Then, full of wrath, fhe kick'd each lazy brute,

Alas! I envy'd even that falute; 'I'was fure mi plac`d-Shock faid, or fee n'd to fay,

He had as lief, I had the kick, as they.

A a

If