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Alas! from the day that we met,

What hope of an end to my woes? When I cannot endure to forget

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

The flower, the shrub, and the tree, Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain,

In time may have comfort for me.

The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose,

The sound of a murmuring stream, The peace which from solitude flows,

Henceforth shall be CORYDON's theme. High transports are shown to the sight,

But we are not to find them our own; Fate never bestow'd such delight

As I with my Phyllis had known.

O ye woods, spread your branches apace;

To your deepest recesses I fly;
I would hide with the beasts of the chase;

I would vanish from every eye.
Yet my reed shall resound thro’ the grove

With the same sad complaint it begun ;
Ilow she smiled, and I could not but love;
Was faithless, and I am undone!


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Come, shepherds, we'll follow the hearse,

And see our loved Corydon laid:
Tho' sorrow may blemish the verse,

Yet let the sad tribute be paid.
They call’d him the pride of the plain :

In sooth, he was gentle and kind;
He mark'd in his elegant strain

The graces that glow'd in his mind.

On purpose he planted yon trees,

That birds in the covert might dwell; He cultured the 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.

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 No birds in our hedges shall sing,

(Our hedges so vocal before) Since he that should welcome the spring

Can greet the gay season no more.

Ilis Phyllis was fond of his praise,

And poets came round in a throng ; They listen'd, and envied 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.


O'er moorlands and mountains, rude, barren and

bare, As wilder'd and wearied I roam, A gentle young shepherdess sees my despair,

And leads me o'er lawns to her home : Yellow sheaves from rich Ceres her cottage had

crown'd, Green rushes were strew'd on the floor; Jler casement sweet woodbines crept wantonly round,

And deck'd the sod seats at her door,

We sat ourselves down to a cooling repast,

Fresh fruits, and she cullid me the best,
While thrown off my guard by some glances she cast,

Love slily stole into my breast.
I told my soft wishes : she sweetly replied,

(Ye virgins, her voice was divine,)
66 I've rich ones rejected, and great ones denied,

Yet take me, fond shepherd, I'm thine."

Her air was so modest, her aspect so meek,

So simple, yet sweet were her charms,
I kiss'd the ripe roses that glow'd on her cheek,

And lock'd the loved maid in my arms.
Now jocund together we tend a few sheep;

And if on the banks, by the stream, Reclined on her bosom I sink into sleep,

Her image still softens my dream.

Together we range o'er the slow-rising hills,

Delighted with pastoral views,
Or rest on the rock whence the streamlet distills,

And mark out new themes for my Muse.
To pomp or proud titles she ne'er did aspire,

The damsel's of humble descent;
The cottager Peace is well known for her sire,

And shepherds have named her CONTENT.




No glory I covet, no riches I want,

Ambition is nothing to me;
The one thing I beg of kind Heaven to grant

Is a mind independent and frec.

With passions anruffled, untainted with pride,

By reason my life let me square ;
The wants of my nature are cheaply supplied,

And the rest is but folly and care.

The blessings which Providence freely has lent

I'll justly and gratefully prize;
Whilst sweet meditation and cheerful content

Shall make me both healthful and wise.

In the pleasures the great man's possessions display

Unenvied I'll challenge my part;
For every fair object my eyes can survey
Contributes to gladden my heart.


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