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And when her bright form shall appear,

Each bird shall harmoniously join In a concert so soft and so clear,

As she may not be fund to resign.

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I have found out a gift for my fair;

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

She will say 'twas a barbarous deed For he ne'er could be true, she averr'd,

Who could rob a poor bird of its young: And I loved her the more when I heard

Such tenderness fall from her tongue.

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I have heard her with sweetness unfold

How that pity was due to a dove; That it ever attended the bold,

And she call'd it the sister of love.
But her words such a pleasure convey,

So much I her accents adore,
Let her speak, and whatever she say,

Methinks I should love her the more.

Can a bosom so gentle remain

Unmoved when her CORYDON sighs ? Will a nymph that is fond of the plain

These plains and this valley despise ?


Dear regions of silence and shade!

Soft scenes of contentment and ease! Where I could have pleasingly stray'd,

If aught, in her absence, could please.

But where does my PHYLLIDA stray ?

And where are her grots and her bowers? Are the groves and the valleys as gay,

And the shepherds as gentle, as ours ? The groves may perhaps be as fair,

And the face of the valleys as fine; The swaius may in manners compare,

But their love is not equal to mine.


WHY will you my passion reprove?

Why term it a folly to grieve?
Ere I show you the charms of my love,

She is fairer than you can believe.
With her mien she enamours the brave;

With her wit she engages the free; With her modesty pleases the grave;

She is every way pleasing to me.

O you that have been of her train,

Come and join in my aniorous lags;

I could

I could lay down my life for the swain 1]

That will sing but a song in her praise. When he sings, may the nymphs of the town

Come trooping, and listen the while; Nay on him let not PHYLLIDA frown-;

But I cannot allow her to smile.

For when PARIDEL tries in the dance

Any favour with PHYLLIS to find,
O how, with one trivial glance,
: Might she ruin the peace of my mind!
In ringlets he dresses his hair,

And his crook is bestuddud around;
And his pipe-oh may Phyllis beware

Of a magic there is in the sound!

'Tis his with mock passion to glow;

"Tis his in smooth tales to unfold, llow her face is as bright as the snow, And her bosom, be sure,

is as cold :How the nightingales labour the strain,

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, suiting the wreath to his lays,

1 He throws it at Puyllis's feet. O Payllis,” he whispers," more fair,

More sweet than the jessamine's flower! What are pinks, in a morn, to compare?

What is eglantine, after a shower?

“ Then the lily no longer is white;

Then the rose is deprived of its bloom ; Then the violets die with despite,

And the woodbines give up their perfume.” Thus glide the soft numbers along,

And he fancies no shepherd his peer ; Yet I never should envy the song,

Were not Payllis to lend it an ear.

Let his crook be with hyacinths bound,

So Phyllis the trophy despise ;
Let his forehead with laurels be crown'd,

So they shine not in Phyllis's cyes.
The language that flows from the heart
Is a stranger to PARIDEL's tongue:

she beware of his art !


Or sure
I must envy

the song.

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Ye shepherds, give ear to my lay,

And take no more heed of my sheep : They have nothing to do, but to stray ;

I have nothing to do, but to weep. Yet do not my folly reprove :

She was fair, and my passion begun; She smiled, and I could not but love:

She is faithless, and I am undone.

Perhaps I was void of all thought ;

Perhaps it was plain to foresee That a nymph so complete would be songht

By a swain more engaging than me.
Ah! love every hope can inspire;

It banishes wisdom the while;
And the lip of the nymph we admire

Seems for ever adorn'd with a smile.

She is faithless, and I am undone;

Ye that witness the woes I endure, Let reason instruct you to shun

What it cannot instruct you to cure. Beware how you loiter in vain

Amid nymphs of a higher degree : It is not for me to explain

Ilow fair and how fickle they be.


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