Methinks I'm now furrounded by despair,
And all my withering hopes are loft in air.
Thus the young linnet on the rocking bough
Hears through long woods autumnal tempests blow,
With hollow blafts the clashing branches bend;
And yellow flowers of ruftling leaves descend ;
She fees the friendly shelter from her fly,
Nor dare her little pinions truft the sky;
But on the naked fpray in wintery air,
All fhivering, hopeless, mourns the dying year.
What have I promis'd? rafh, unthinking maid!
By thy own tongue thy wishes are betray'd!
Why walk'st thou thus difturb'd with frantic air?
Why roll thy eyes with madness and despair?
[Mufing. How wilt thou bear to fee her pride give way? When thus the yielding nymph fhall bid thee fay, "Let not the fhepherd feek the filent grave,
Say, that I bid him live if hope can fave!"
Hath he difcern'd thee through the fwain's difguife, And now alike thy love and friendship flies?
Yes. Firm and faithful to the promise made,
I'll range each funny hill, each lawn and glade.
Tis Laura speaks. O calm your troubled mind.
Where fhall my fearch this envy'd Beauty find?
I'll go, my faithless shepherd's cause to plead,
And with my tears accuse the rival maid.
Yet, fhould her soften'd heart to love incline!
If thofe are all thy fears, Evander 's thine.
Why should we both in forrow waste our days?
If love unfeign'd my constant bofom fways,
His happiness alone is all I prize,
And that is center'd in Parthenia's eyes.
Hafte then, with earnest zeal her love implore,
To blefs his hours-when thou shalt breathe no more.
Dione lying on the ground by the fide of a Fountain.
ERE let me reft; and in the liquid glafs
View with impartial look my fading face.
Why are Parthenia's striking beauties priz'd ?
And why Dione's weaker glance defpis'd?
Nature in various moulds has beauty caft,
And form'd the feature for each different taste :
This fighs for golden locks and azure eyes;
That, for the glofs of fable treffes, dies.
Let all mankind thefe locks, thefe eyes deteft,
So I were lovely in Evander's breast!
When o'er the garden's knot we cast our view,
While fummer paints the ground with various hue;
Some praise the gaudy tulip's streaky red,
And fome the filver lily's bending head ;
Some the jonquil in fhining yellow dreft,
And fome the fring'd carnation's varied veft;
Some love the fober violet's purple dyes.
Thus beauty fares in different lovers' eyes.
But bright Parthenia like the rose appears,
She in all eyes fuperior luftre bears.
"Why thus beneath the filver willow laid,
Weeps fair Dione in the pensive shade?
Haft thou yet found the over-arching bower,
Which guards Parthenia from the fultry hour?
With weary step in paths unknown I stray'd,
And fought in vain the folitary maid.
Secft thou the waving tops of yonder woods,
Whofe aged arms imbrown the cooling floods ?
The cooling floods o'er breaking pebbles flow,
And wash the foil from the big roots below;
From the tall rock the dashing waters bound.
Hark, o'er the fields the rushing billows found!
There, loft in thought, and leaning on her crook,
Stood the fad nymph, nor rais'd her penfive look ;
With fettled eye the bubbling waves furvey'd,
And watch'd the whirling eddies as they play'd.
Thither to know my certain doom I speed,
For by this fentence life or death 's decreed.
But fee! fome hafty stranger bends this way;
His broider'd veft reflects the funny ray :
Now through the thinner boughs I mark his mien,
Now veil'd, in thicker shades he moves unseen.
Hither he turns; I hear a muttering found;
Behind this reverend oak with ivy bound
Quick I'll retire; with bufy thought poffeft,
His tongue betrays the fecrets of his breast.
The fkilful hunter with experienc'd care
Traces the doubles of the circling hare;
The fubtle fox (who breathes the weary hound
O'er hills and plains) in distant brakes is found;
With ease we track swift hinds and skipping roes.
But who th' inconftant ways of woman knows?
They fay, fhe wanders with the fylvan train,
And courts the native freedoms of the plain;
Shepherds explain their wish without offence,
Nor blush the nymphs; for Love is innocence.
O lead me where the rural youth retreat,
Where the flope hills the warbling voice repeat.
Perhaps on daify'd turf reclines the maid,
And near her fide fome rival clown is laid.
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