To Amaryllis love compels my way,
My browzing goats upon the mountains.
ftray:
O Tityrus, tend them well, and see them fed
In pastures fresh, and to their watering led;
And 'ware the ridgling with his budding head.
Ah beauteous nymph! can you forget your love,
The conscious grottos, and the shady grove;
Where stretch'd at ease your tender limbs were
Your nameless beauties nakedly display'd ?
Then I was call'd your darling, your desire,
With kisses such as fet my foul on fire:
But
you are chang'd, yet I am still the same ;
My heart maintains for both a double flame ;
Griev'd, but unmov'd, and patient of your scorn:
So faithful I, and you so much forfworn!
I die, and death will finish all my pain;
Yet, ere I die, behold me once again :
Am I fo much deform'd, fo chang'd of late?
What partial judges are our love and hate!
dear;
Ten wildings have I gather'd for my
How ruddy like your lips their ftreaks appear!
Far-off you view'd them with a longing eye
Upon the topmost branch (the tree was high):
Yet nimbly up, from bough to bough I fwerv'd,
And for to-morrow have ten more referv'd.
Look on me kindly, and fome pity shew,
Or give me leave at least to look on you.
Some God transform me by his heav'nly pow'r
Ev'n to a bee to buzz within your bow'r,
The winding ivy-chaplet to invade,
And folded fern that your fair forehead shade.
Now to my coft the force of love I find;
The heavy hand it bears on human kind.
The milk of tigers was his infant food,
Taught from his tender years the taste of blood;
His brother whelps and he ran wild about the
wood.
Ah nymph, train'd up in his tyrannic court,
To make the fufferings of
your flaves your sport! Unheeded ruin! treacherous delight!
O polish'd hardness soften'd to the fight!
Whose radiant eyes your ebon brows adorn,
Like midnight thofe, and thefe like break of morn!
Smile once again, revive me with your charms;
And let me die contented in your arms.
I would not ask to live another day,
Might I but sweetly kiss my foul away.
Ah, why am I from empty joys debarr'd ?
For kiffes are but empty when compar'd.
I rave, and in
my raging fit fhall tear
The garland, which I wove for
Of parfly, with a wreath of ivy bound,
And border'd with a rofy edging round.
What pangs I feel, unpity'd and unheard!
Since I must die, why is my fate deferr'd!
I ftrip my body of my fhepherd's frock :
Behold that dreadful downfal of a rock,
Where yon old fisher views the waves from high!
"Tis that convenient leap I mean to try.
You would be pleas'd to fee me plunge to fhore,
But better pleas'd if I should rise no more.
I might have read fortune long ago,
When, feeking my fuccefs in love to know,
I try'd th' infallible prophetic way,
A poppy-leaf upon my palm to lay:
I ftruck, and yet no lucky crack did follow;
Yet I ftruck hard, and yet the leaf lay hollow:
And which was worse, if any worse could prove,
The with'ring leaf forefhew'd your with'ring
love.
Yet farther (ah, how far a lover dares !)
My laft recourse I had to fieve and sheers;
And told the witch Agreo my disease:
Agreo, that in harvest us'd to lease :
But harvest done, to chare-work did aspire;
Meat, drink, and two-pence was her daily hire,
To work fhe went, her charms fhe mutter'd o'er,
And yet the refty fieve wagg'd ne'er the more;
wept for woe, the tefty beldame fwore,
And, foaming with her God, foretold my fate; That I was doom'd to love, and
you to hate. I did provide ;
Two milk-white kids run frifking by her fide,
For which the nut-brown lafs, Erithacis,
Full often offer'd many a favoury kiss.
Hers they shall be, fince you refuse the price:
What madman would o'erftand his market twice!
My right eye itches, fome good-luck is near,
Perhaps my Amaryllis may appear;
I'll fet up fuch a note as she shall hear.
What nymph but my melodious voice would
She must be flint, if the refufe my
Hippomenes, who ran with noble strife
To win his lady, or to lose his life,
(What shift some men will make to get a wife?)
Threw down a golden apple in her way;
For all her hafte she could not choose but stay :
Renown faid, Run; the glitt'ring bribe cry'd,
Hold;
The man might have been hang'd, but for his gold.
Yet fome fuppofe 'twas love (fome few indeed)
That stopt the fatal fury of her speed :
She faw, the figh'd; her nimble feet refuse
Their wonted speed, and she took pains to lose.
A Prophet fome, and fome a Poet cry,
(No matter which, fo neither of them lye)
From steepy Othry's top to Pylus drove
His herd; and for his pains enjoy'd his love:
If fuch another wager should be laid,
I'll find the man, if you can find the maid.
Why name I men, whom love extended finds
His pow'r on high, and in cœleftial minds;
Venus the shepherd's homely habit took,
And manag'd fomething elfe befides the crook;
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