Pereene, the pride of Indian dames, His heart long held in thrall, And whoso his impatience blames, I wot, ne'er lov'd at all. A long, long year, one month and day; He dwelt on English land, Nor once in thought would ever stray, Though ladies fought his hand: For Bryan he was tall and strong, Right blithsome rollid his een, Sweet was his voice when e'er he sung ; He fcant had twenty seen. But who the countless charms can draw, That grac'd his mistress true; Such charms the old world never saw, Nor oft I ween the new. Her raven hair plays round her neck, Like tendrils of the vine; Her cheeks red dewy rose buds deck, Her eyes like diamonds shine. . Soon as his well known fhip the spied, She cast her weeds away, All in her best atray. In fea-green filk fo neatly clad, Her hands a handkerchief difplay'd, Her fair companions one and all, Then through the white furf did fhe hafte, When, ah! a shark bit through his waift: He fhriek'd! his half sprang from the wave, And foon it found a living grave, And, ah! was feen no more. Now hafte, now hafte, ye maids, I pray, Fetch water from the spring: She falls, fhe falls, fhe dies away, And foon her knell they ring. Now each May-morning round her tomb, Ye fair, fresh flowrets strew, Her hapless fate scape you. С OME live with me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and vallies, dale and field, And all the craggy mountains yield. There will we fit upon the rocks, a There will I make the beds of roses A gown made of the finest wool, A belt A belt of straw, and ivy buds, The shepherd-fwains fhall dance and fing MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS. ΑΝ OLD BALLA D. M Y minde to me a kingdome is; As farre exceeds all earthly bliffe, That God or Nature hath affignde: Though much I want, that most would have, Yet ftill my mind forbids to crave. Content I live, this is my ftay; I feek no more than may suffice: See how plentie surfets oft, And haftie clymbers fooneft fall: Mishap doth threaten moft of all: No princely pompe, nor wealthie store, No wylie wit to salve a fore, No fhape to winne a lover's eye; To none of these I yeeld as thrall, For why my mind dispiseth all. Some have too much, yet ftill they crave, I little have, yet feek no more: And I am rich with little ftore: They poor, I rich; they beg, I give; I laugh not at another's loffe, I grudge not at another's gaine; My wealth is health, and perfect ease, Nor by defert to give offence: CUPID's |