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HAIL, beaut'ous firanger of the grove?
Thou meffenger of fpring!

Now heav'n repairs thy rural feat,
And woods thy welcome fing.

What time the daisy decks the green,
Thy certain voice we hear;
Haft thou a ftar to guide thy path,
Or mark the rolling year?

Delightful vifitant! with thee
I hail the time of flow'rs,
And hear the found of mufic fweet
From birds among the bow'rs.

The school-boy, wand'ring through the wood
To pull the primrose gay,

Starts, the new voice of spring to hear,

And imitates thy lay.

What time the pea puts on the bloom,

Thou fly'ft thy vocal vale,

An annual gueft in other lands,
Another fpring to hail.

Sweet bird thy bow'r is ever green,
Thy fky is ever clear;

Thou haft no forrow in thy fong,
No WINTER in thy year!

O could I fly, I'd fly with thee!
We'd make, with joyful wing,
Our annual vifit o'er the globe,
Companions of the SPRING.

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"MY pretty maids, fo blithe and gay, With crook and fcrip, whence come you, pray?"

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We come, fir, from the neighb'ring hill,
Clofe by the fount of this clear rill.

There, in a little tuft of green, Our father's ftraw-roof'd cot is feen, 'Beneath that dear, tho' narrow, shed, We, fifters all, were born and bred. 'Our bus' nefs is to tend our flocks, In yonder vale o'erhung with rocks; 'When fed, we drive them home at eve; 'So now, kind fir! we take our leave.' "O what must be the favour'd place, "That yields fuch charms and native grace, "As ruftic weeds no more can fhrowd "Than noon-day's fun, an envious cloud! "Love's genuine progeny you feem, "From each fair face fuch pleasures beam. "Well might it grieve your beauties rare "To wafte themielves on defert air, "When courts and cities would delight "To give them to the public fight! "But tell me, do you feel content, "Within these lonely regions pent?" More true content within us dwells, 'While roving in the flow'ry dells, Than fills the breasts of ladies great, 'While dancing in the rooms of state. No wealth we want, or fine array; 'Flow'rs are enough to make us gay.'


Certain PRIEST had hoarded up,
A fecret mafs of GOLD;

But where he might beftow it safe,
By fancy was not told.

At laft, it came into his head,
To lock it in a cheft,

Within the chancel, and he wrote
Thereon, Hic Deus eft.

A merry grigg, whofe greedy mind,
Long with'd for such a prey,
Refpected not the facred words,
That on the casket lay.

Took out the GOLD, and blotted out
The PRIEST's inscript thereon,
Wrote, Refurrexit, non eft hic,
"Your god is rose and gone.”


ON a bank, befide a willow,

Heav'n her cov'ring, earth her pillow,

Sad AMYNTA figh'd alone:

From the cheerlefs dawn of morning
Till the dews of night returning,
Sighing thus fhe made her moan:
Hope is banish'd,
Joys are vanifh'd,

DAMON, my belov'd, is gone!
Time I dare thee to difcover
Such a youth, and fuch a lover;
Oh! fo true, fo kind was he!
DAMON was the pride of nature,
Charming in his ev'ry feature;
DAMON liv'd alone for me;
Melting kiffes,
Murm'ring bliffes:

Who fo liv'd and lov'd as we!

Never fhall we curfe the morning,
Never bless the night returning,
Sweet embraces to reftore:
Never fhall we both lie dying,
Nature failing, love fupplying
All the joys he drain'd before:
Death, come end me,

To befriend me;

LOVE and DAMON are no more!


AS once young CUPID went aftray,
The little god I found;

I took his bow and fhafts away,

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And faft his pinions bound.

At CHLOE's feet my fpoils I caft,
My conqueft proud to fhew;
She faw his godship fetter'd fast,
And fmil'd to fee him fo.

But ah! that fmile fuch fresh supplies
Of arms refiftless gave!
I'm forc'd again to yield the prize,
And fall again his slave.


SLUMB'RING beneath the shade I lay,
Oppreft by Sol's meridian ray,
When to my eyes, in vifion bright,
Appear'd the queen of foft delight;
Young CUPID in her hand she led,
Who bashful hung his little head:
"Here, gentle swain!" the goddess cry'd,
"My boy's maturer ftudies guide;
"Teach him to ftrike the founding lyre,
"And love of facred bards infpire."
She faid:--with awe I took the child,
And, by his modeft looks beguil'd,
Began to read with aspect fage,
My lecture on great HOMER's page,
Explain'd the THEBAN's devious line,
And dwelt on MARO's verfe divine.
The giddy boy with flight regard
Run o'er each grave majeftic bard,
And faid he would my pains repay
By teaching me his fav'rite lay.
Then careless fung of loves and fmiles,
His wanton pranks, his mother's wiles,

Of mortal and immortal flames,
And all the lift of fportive dames.
I bade him ceafe his idle prate :
Yet lift'ning ftill, I found, too late,
I'd quite forgot the TUTOR's part,
But had his nonfenfe all by heart.


SWEET beaut'ous fair, tho' from thee torn,
Do thou infpire my lay:
Depriv'd of thee, loft and forlorn,
I'lofe the peaceful day.

Forget'ft thou when we wander'd o'er,
The fea-beat rocky, feedy, fhore,

Or rang'd the woodland wilds along,
How oft on MINEHEAD'S mountain's high,
We've met the morning's purple eye,
Cheer'd by the wood-lark's fong?
From thefe delights by fortune led,
To bufy life and fea confin'd:
At once each golden pleasure fled,
And HAPPINESS was left behind.
Yet cou'd thefe eyes once more survey,
Thy lovely form, like blooming May,
Thy polish'd brow, thy piercing eye,
Where all the charms of earth do dwell,
In village cot, or homely cell,

Sweet maid! with thee I'd live and die. Ah! where is now each image gay, The hand which fairy-fancy wove, Of painted spring's elyfian day,

When mutual happiness we'd prove? Ceafe, cruel mem'ry! recal no more Thofe fcenes which loft, I now deplore; Thou only mak'ft a wretch to know, While from his charming SALLY's fide; Eternal grief and pain betide,

A heart replete with care and woe.

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