Whilft fhe a deare-lov'd hart (ah luckleffe!) flew, Whofe fall fhe all too late, too foon, too much, did

rue.

But feeing now I am not as I would,

But here, among th' unhonour'd willow's fhade, The muddy Chame doth me enforced hold; Here I forfweare my merry piping trade : My little pipe, of feven reeds ymade,

(Ah pleasing pipe !) I'll hang upon this bough: Thou Chame, and Chamish nymphs, bear witneffe of

my vow.

Το

T 2

To Mr. JO. TOMKIN S.

HOMALIN, my lief, thy muficke ftrains to

THO

heare,

More raps my foul than when the fwelling windes On craggy rocks their whiftling voices tear;

Or when the fea, if ftopt his courfe he findes, With broken murmures thinks weak fhores to fear, Scorning fuch fandie cords his proud head bindes: More than where rivers in the summer's ray, Through covert glades cutting their fhady way, Run tumbling down the lawns, and with the pebbles play.

Thy ftrains to heare, old Chamus from his cell
Comes guarded with an hundred nymphs around;
An hundred nymphs, that in his rivers dwell,
About him flock, with water-lilies crown'd.

For thee the mufes leave their filver well,

And marvel where thou all their art haft found:

There fitting, they admire thy dainty strains,

And while thy fadder accent fweetly plains,

Feel thousand fugred joys creep in their melting

veins.

How

How oft have I, the mufes bow'r frequenting, Mifs'd them at home, and found them all with thee! Whether thou fing'ft fad Euphathus' lamenting,

Or tuneft notes to facred harmonie,

The ravifht foul with thy fweet notes confenting,
Scorning the earth, in heav'nly extafie
Tranfcends the ftarres, and with the angels' train
Those courts furveys; and now come back again,
Finds yet another heaven in thy delightful ftrain.

Ah, could't thou here thy humble mind content,
Lowly with me to live in country cell,
And learn fufpect the court's proud blandifhment,
Here might we fafe, here might we fweetly dwell.
Live Pallas in her tow'rs and marble tent;

But ah! the country-bow'rs please me as well:
There with my Thomalin I fafe would fing,
And frame fweet ditties to thy fweeter ftring;

There would we laugh at fpite, and fortunes thun dering.

No flattery, hate, or envy, lodgeth there;
There no fufpicion wall'd in proved fteel,
Yet fearful of the arms herself doth wear :
Pride is not there; no tyrant there we feel;

No

No clamorous laws fhall deaf thy muficke eare ;

They know no change, nor wanton fortune's wheel: Thoufand freth fports grow in thofe daintie places; Light fawns and nymphs dance in the woodie spaces, And little Love himself plays with the naked Graces.

But feeing fate my happy with refuses,
Let me alone enjoy my low eftate.
Of all the gifts that fair Parnaffus ufes,

Only fcorn'd povertie and fortune's hate
Common I finde to me, and to the mufes;
But with the mufes welcome poorest fate.
Safe in my humble cottage will I reft;
And lifting up from my untainted breaft
A quiet fpirit to heaven, fecurely live and bleft.

To thee I here bequeath the courtly joyes,
Seeing to court my Thomalin is bent:
Take from thy Thirfil thefe his idle toyes;
Here I will end my loofer merriment :

And when thou fing'ft them to the wanton boyes,
Among the courtly laffes blandifhment,

Think of thy Thirfil's love that never spends;
And foftly fay, his love ftill better mends:

Ah! too unlike the love of court, or courtly friends!

Go,

Go, little pipe; for ever I must leave thee,
My little, little pipe, but sweetest ever :
Go, go, for I have vow'd to see thee never;
Never, ah! never must I more receive thee;
But he in better love will ftill perfever;

Go, little pipe, for I must have a new.
Farewel, ye Norfolk maids, and Ida crue;
Thirfil will play no more; for ever now adieu !

INDEX.