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F we, O Dorfet, quit the city-throng,
To meditate in fhades the rural fong,
By your command, be prefent: and, O bring
The Mufe along! The Mufe to you fhall fing:
Her influence, Buckhurst, let me there obtain,
And I forgive the fam'd Sicilian Swain.

Begin. In unluxurious times of


When flocks and herds were no inglorious ftore,
Lobbin, a fhepherd-boy, one evening fair,
As western winds 'had cool'd the fultry air,
His number'd fheep within the fold now pent,
Thus plain'd him of his dreary difcontent;
Beneath a hoary poplar's whispering boughs,
He, folitary, fat to breathe his vows,
Venting the tender anguish of his heart,
As paffion taught, in accents free of art:
And little did he hope, while, night by night,
His fighs were lavifh'd thus on Lucy bright.



"Ah, well-a-day! how long muft I endure This pining pain? Or who fhall fpeed my cure? 20 Fond love no cure will have, feek no repofe, "Delights in grief, nor any measure knows : And now the moon begins in clouds to rife; The brightening stars increase within the fkics; 24


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The winds are hush; the dews distil; and fleep << Hath clos'd' the eyelids of my weary sheep:

I only, with the prowling wolf, constrain'd «All night to wake: with hunger he is pain'd, And I, with love. His hunger he may tame; "But who can quench, O cruel Love, thy flame? Whilom did I, all as this poplar fair,



Up-raise my heedlefs head, then void of care, 'Mong ruftic routs the chief for wanton game; Nor could they merry make, till Lobbin came. Who better feen than I in shepherds' arts, "To please the lads, and win the laffes' hearts? 36 "How deftly, to mine oaten-reed so sweet,

Wont they, upon the green, to shift their feet? "And, weary'd in the dance, how would they yearn


Some well-devifed tale from me to learn? "For many fongs and tales of mirth had I, To chace the loitering fun adown the sky: "But, ah! fince Lucy coy, deep-wrought her spight "Within my heart, unmindful of delight "The jolly grooms. I fly, and, all alone,


To rocks and woods pour forth my. fruitless moan. Oh! quit thy wonted fcorn, relentless Fair! "Ere, lingering long, I perish through defpair. 48 "Had Rofalind been miftrefs of my mind,

Though not fo fair, she would have prov'd more kind. "O think, unwitting maid, while yet is time, "How flying years impair thy youthful prime! "Thy virgin-bloom will not for ever ftay,

And, flowers, though left ungather'd, will decay:



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The flowers, anew, returning feafons bring! But beauty faded has no second spring. "My words are wind! She, deaf to all my cries, "Takes pleafure in the mischief of her eyes. "Like frisking heifer, loafe in flowery meads, "She gads where'er her roving fancy leads; "Yet ftill from me. Ah me, the tirefome.chace! "Shy as the fawn, the flies my fond embrace. "She flies, indeed, but ever leaves behind, "Fly where the will, her likeness in my mind. "No cruel purpose, in my speed, I bear;






'Tis only love; and love why should'st thou fear? "What idle fears a maiden-breast alarm! "Stay, fimple girl: a lover cannot harm. "Two fportive kidlings, both fair-fleck'd, I rear; Whofe shooting horns like tender buds appear: "A lambkin too, of fpotlefs fleece, I breed, "And teach the fondling from my hand to feed: "Nor will I ceafe betimes to cull the fields "Of every dewy fweet the morning yields : "From early fpring to autumn late shalt thou "Receive gay girlonds, blooming o'er thy brow: 76) "And when,-But, why these unavailing pains? "The gifts, alike, and giver, she disdains : "And now, left heiress of the glen, fhe'll deem "Me, landlefs lad, unworthy her esteem: "Yet, was fhe born, like me, of shepherd-fire; "And I may fields and lowing herds acquire. "O! would my gifts but win her wanton heart,Or could I half the warmth I feel impart,




"How would I wander, every day, to find "The choice of wildings, blushing through the rind! "For gloffy plumbs how lightsome climb the tree, "How risk the vengeance of the thrifty bee! * Or! if thou deign to live a shepherdefs,

Thou Lobbin's flock, and Lobbin, shalt poffefs: "And, fair my flock, nor yet uncomely I,



If liquid fountains flatter not; and why "Should liquid fountains flatter us, yet show **The bordering flowers lefs beauteous than they grow? O! come, my love; nor think th' employment mean, "The dams to milk, and little lambkins wean, 96

To drive a-field, by morn, the fattening ewes, "Ere the warm fun drink-up the cooly dews, "While, with my pipe, and with my voice, I chear Each hour, and through the day detain thine ear. 100 "How would the crook befeem thy lily-hand!

How would my younglings round thee gazing stand! Ah, witlefs younglings! gaze not on her eye: "Thence all my forrow; thence the death I die. 104 "O, killing beauty! and O, fore defire! "Muft then my fufferings, but with life, expire? "Though bloffoms every year the trees adorn, Spring after fpring I wither, nipt with scorn: Nor trow I when this bitter blast will end,


"Or if yon ftars will e'er my vows befriend. "Sleep, fleep, my flock; for happy ye may take "Sweet nightly reft, though ftill your master wake." 112

Now to the waning moon, the nightingale,

In flender warblings, tun'd her piteous tale,


The love-fick Shepherd, liftening, felt relief,
Pleas'd with fo fweet a partner in his grief,.

Till, by degrees, her notes and filent night

To flumbers foft his heavy heart invite.





Is it not Colinet I lonesome see,

Leaning with folded arms against the tree?
Or is it age of late bedims my fight?
'Tis Colinet, indeed, in woeful plight.
Thy cloudy look, why melting into tears,
Unfeemly, now the sky fo bright appears?
Why in this mournful manner art thou found,
Unthankful lad, when all things smile around?
Or hear'st not lark and linnet jointly sing,
Their notes blithe-warbling to falute the spring ?

Though blithe their notes, not fo my wayward fate;
Nor lark would fing, nor linnet, in my state.
Each creature, Thenot, to his task is born,
As they to mirth and mufic, I to mourn.
Waking, at midnight,, I my woes renew,
My tears oft' mingling with the falling dew.


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