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The gentle swan with graceful pride

Her glossy plumage laves,
And, sailing down the silver tide,

Divides the whispering waves:
The silver tide, that wandering flows,

Sweet to the bird must be !
But not so sweet-blithe Cupid knows,

As Delia is to me.

A parent bird, in plaintive mood,

On yonder fruit-tree sung,
And still the pendent nest she view'd,
That held her callow

Dear to the mother's fluttering heart

The genial brood must be ;
But not so dear (the thousandth part!)

As Delia is to me.

The roses that


brow surround Were natives of the dale; Scarce pluck'd, and in a garland bound,

Before their sweets grew pale!
My vital bloom would thus be froze,

If luckless torn from thee;
For what the root is to the rose,

My Delia

to me.

Two doves I found, like new fallen snow,

So white the beauteous pair! The birds to Delia I'll bestow,

They're like her bosom fair!

When, in their chaste connubial love,

My secret wish she'll see; Such mutual bliss as turtles

prove, May Delia share with me.


Donec gratus eram,

&c. Hor.

DAMON. WHEN Phillis was faithful, and fond as she's fair, I twisted young roses in wreaths for my

hair; But ah! the sad willow's a shade for my brows, For Phillis no longer remembers her vows! [flies, To the groves with young Colin the shepherdess While Damon disturbs the still plains with his sighs.

PHILLIS. Bethink you, false Damon, before you upbraid, When Phoebe's fairlambkin had yesterday stray'd, Through the woodlands you wander’d, poor Phillis

forgot! And drove the gay rambler quite home to her cot; A swain so deceitful no damsel can prize; "Tis Phoebe, not Phillis, lays claim to your sighs.

DAMON. Like summer's full season young Phæbe is kind, Her manners are graceful, untainted her mind! The sweets of contentment her cottage adorn, She's fair as the rosebud, and fresh as the morn! She smiles like Pomona—These smiles I'd resign, If Phillis were faithful, and deign’d to be mine.



On the tabor young Colin so prettily plays, He sings me sweet sonnets,and writes in my praise! He chose me his true-love last Valentine Day, When birds sat like bridegrooms all pair'd on the spray;

[mind, Yet I'd drive the gay shepherd far, far from my If Damon, the rover, were constant and kind.

DAMON. Fine folks, my sweet Phillis, may revel and range,

[change! But fleeting's the pleasure that's founded on In the villager's cottage such constancy springs, That peasants with pity may look down on kings. To the church then let's hasten our transports to

bind, And Damon will always prove faithful and kind.

PHILLIS. To the church then let's hasten, our transports

to bind, And Phillis will always prove faithful and kind.

To the Memory of William Shenstone, Esq.
COME, shepherds, we'll follow the hearse,

We'll see our loved Corydon laid :
Though sorrow may blemish the verse,

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

In sooth he was gentle and kind!
He mark'd on 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 his 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 birds in our hedges shall sing

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

Salutes the gay season no more. His Phillis was fond of his praise,

And poets came round in a throng; They listen'd—they envied his lays,

But which of them equal'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.


HER sheep had in clusters crept close by the grove,

To hide from the rigours of day;
And Phillis herself, in a woodbine alcove,

Among the fresh violets lay:

A youngling it seems had been stole from its dam

(”Twixt Cupid and Hymen a plot), That Corydon might, as he search'd for his lamb,

Arrive at this critical spot. As through the gay hedge for his lambkin he peeps,

He saw the sweet maid with surprise ; *Ye gods! if so killing (he cried) when she sleeps,

I'm lost when she opens her eyes!
To tarry much longer would hazard my heart,

I'll onwards my lambkin to trace:-
In vain honest Corydon strove to depart,

For love had him nail'd to the place.
Hush, hush'd be these birds, what a bawling

they keep! (He cried), you're too loud on the spray, Don't you see, foolish lark, that the charmer's

You'll wake her as sure as 'tis day: [asleep; How dare that fond butterfly touch the sweet

Her cheek he mistakes for the rose; [maid! I'd pat him to death, if I was not afraid

My boldness would break her repose.' Young Phillis look'd up with a languishing smile,

Kind shepherd (she said), you mistake; I laid myself down just to rest me a while, But trust me,

have still been awake:' The shepherd took courage, advanced with a bow,

He placed himself close by her side,
And managed the matter I cannot tell how,

But yesterday made her his bride.

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