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Let other swains attend the rural care,
35 Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces' fheer : But nigh yon' mountain let me tune my lays, Embrace my Love, and bind my brows with bays. That flute is mine which Colin's tuneful breath Inspir'd when living, and bequeath'd in death ; He said ; Alexis, take this pipe, the same That taught the groves my Rosalinda's naine : But now the reeds shall hang on yonder tree, For ever filent, fince despis'd by thee. O! were I made by some transforming power 45 The captive bird that fings within thy bower ! Then might my voice thy listening ears employ, And I those kiffes he receives enjoy.
And yet my numbers please the rural throng, Rough Satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song : 50 The Nymphs, forsaking every cave and spring, Their early fruit and milk-white turtles bring! Each amorous nymph prefers her gifts in vain, On you
their gifts are all bestow'd again, For you
the swains the fairest flowers design, 55 And in one garland all their beauties join ; Accept the wreath which
deserve alone, In whom all beauties are compriz'd in one.
See what delights in sylvan scenes appear! Descending Gods have found Elysium here. 60 In woods bright Venus with Adonis stray'd, And chalte Diana haunts the forest shade. Come, lovely nymph, and bless the silent hours, When fwains from sheering seek their nightly bowers ; VOL. I.
When weary reapers quit the sultry field,
65 And crown'd with corn their thanks to Ceres yield. This harmless grove no lurking viper hides, But in my breast the serpent Love abides. Here bees from blossoms lip the rosy dew, But your Alexis knows no sweets but
But see, the Ahepherds thun the noon-day heat,
And listening wolves grow milder as they hear. So the verses were originally written : But the author, young as he was, foon found the absurdity, which Spenser himself overlooked, of introducing wolves into England,
But foon the fun with milder rays
defcends To the cool ocean, where his journey ends : On me Love's fiercer flames for ever prey, By night he scorches, as he burns by day. .
Ver. 91. Me love inflames, nor will his fires allay.
Hylas and Ægon sung their rural lays :
5 Hylas and Ægon's rural lays I sing.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
As fome fad Turtle his loft love deplores,
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along!
Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away!
every Aower, and perish all, but she.