Let her speak, and whatever she say, Can a bosom so gentle remain Unmoved, when her Corydon sighs? Will a nymph that is fond of the plain, These plains and this valley despise ? Dear regions of silence and shade! Soft scenes of contentment and ease! Where I could have pleasingly stray'd, If aught, in her absence, could please. 95 100 110 And the face of the valleys as fine, The swains may in manners compare, But their love is not equal to mine. III. SOLICITUDE. Why will you my passion reprove? love? 115 She's fairer than you can believe. With her mien she enamours the brave; With her wit she engages the free; With her modesty pleases the grave; She is every way pleasing to me. O you that have been of her train, Come and join in my amorous lays! 120 When he sings, may the nymphs of the town 125 For when Paridel tries in the dance my And his crook is bestudded around; "T is his with mock passion to glow, To the grove or the garden he strays, Then, suiting the wreath to his lays, "O Phyllis," he whispers, "more fair, 130 135 140 145 More sweet than the jessamine's flower! 150 What are pinks in a morn to compare? What is eglantine after a shower? "Then the lily no longer is white; The rose is deprived of its bloom; Then the violets die with despite; And the woodbines give up their perfume." Were not Phyllis to lend it an ear. Let his crook be with hyacinths bound, 160 The language that flows from the heart 165 They have nothing to do, but to stray; She was fair-and my passion begun; She smiled and I could not but love; She is faithless-and I am undone. 175 Perhaps I was void of all thought; That a nymph so complete would be sought Ah! Love every hope can inspire; And the lip of the nymph we admire Seems for ever adorn'd with a smile. 180 She is faithless, and I am undone: 185 Ye that witness the woes I endure, Let reason instruct you to shun What it cannot instruct you to cure. Beware how you loiter in vain Amid nymphs of a higher degree: It is not for me to explain How fair and how fickle they be. 190 The flower, and the shrub, and the tree, Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain, 200 In time may have comfort for me. The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose, But we are not to find them our own; As I with my Phyllis had known. O ye woods, spread your branches apace, I would hide with the beasts of the chase; Yet my reed shall resound through the grove 205 210 How she smiled-and I could not but love; 215 Was faithless-and I am undone ! SHENSTONE. I WISH I WAS WHERE ANNA LIES. I WISH I was where Anna lies; For I am sick of lingering here; And every hour Affection cries, "Go and partake her humble bier." I wish I could; for when she died, I lost my all; and life has proved, But who, when I am turn'd to clay, 5 10 And weeds, that have " no business there ?" And who with pious hand shall bring The flower she cherish'd, snowdrops cold, 15 And violets that unheeded spring, To scatter o'er her hallow'd mould ? And who, while Memory loves to dwell Shall feel his heart with passion swell, I did it; and, would fate allow, But health and strength have left me now, Take then, sweet maid, this simple strain, 25 Thy grave must then undeck'd remain, B |