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ARGOL.
Ah, Myco! half my flock would I bestow,
Should Colinet to me his cunning show :
So trim his fonnets are, I pr‘ythee, swain,
Now give us, once, a sample of his strain :
For wonders of that lad the shepherds say,
How sweet his pipe, how ravishing his lay!
The sweetness of his pipe and lay rehearse;
And ask what boon thou willest for thy verse. 44

MY C 0.
Since then thou lift, a mournful fong I chuse:
A mournful song relieves a mournful Muse:
Fast by the river on a bank he sate,
To weep the lovely maid's untimely fate,
Fair Stella hight: a lovely maid was she,
Whose fate he wept, a faithful shepherd he.

Awake, my pipe; in every note express
Fair Stella's death, and Colinet's distress.

5% do O woeful day! O, day of woe to me! " That ever I fhould live such day to see ! " That ever the could die! O, most unkind, " To go and leave thy Colinet behind !

56 « From blameless love, and plighted troth to go, 56 And leave to Colinet a life of woe !"

Awake, my pipe; in every note express Fair Stella's death, and Colinet's distress.

And yet, why blame I her? Full fain would he - With dying arms have clafp'd herself to me;

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“ I clafp'd her too, but death prov'd over-strong ;
“ Nor. vows nor tears could feeting life prolong:
" Yet how shall I from vows and tears refrain ?"
“ And why should vows, alas ! and tears be vain ?"

Awake, my pipe; in every note express
Fair Stella's death, and Collinet's distress.

68 “ Aid me to grieve, with bleating moan, my sheep, - Aid me, thou ever-flowing stream, to weep ; “ Aid me, ye faint, ye hollow winds, to figh, " And thou, my woey allilt me thou to die. 72 “ Me flock nor streain, nor winds nor woes, relieve ;: “ She lov'd through life, and I through life will grieve."

Awake, my pipe; in every note express Fair Stella's death, and Colinet's distress.

Ye gentler maids, companions of my fair, “ With down-cast look, and with dithevel'd hair, “ All beat the breast, and wring your hands and moane; ' Her hour, untimely, might have prov'd your own :- 80 " Her hour, untimely, help me to lament; And let your hearts at Stella's name relent."

Awake, my pipe; in every note express Fair Stella's death, and Colinet's distresse

66 In vain th' indearing lustre of your eyes " We dote upon, and you as vainly prize. “ What though your beauty bless the faithful swain, << And in th'enamour'd heart like queens ye reign; 88 “ Yet in their prime does death the fairest kill, " As ruthless winds the tender blafioms spill."

Awake,

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Awake, my pipe; in every note express Fair Stella's death, and Colinet's difress.

92 “ Such Stella was.; yet Stella might not live! “ And what could Colinet in ransom give ? • Oh! if or music's voice, or beauty's charm, “ Could milden death, and stay his lifted arm,

My pipe her face, her face my pipe might save, “ Redeeming each the other from the grave."

Awake, my pipe; in every note express Fair Stella's death, and Colinet's distress,

“ Ah, fruitless wish! fell death's uplifted arm « Nor beauty can arrest, nor music charm. “ Behold!, oh, baleful light I see where she lies ! “ The budding flower, unkindly blasted, dies :

104 “ Nor, though I live the longest day to mourn, « Will she again to life and me return."

Awake, my pipe; in every note express Fair Stella's death, and Colinet's distress.

10& “ Unhappy Colinet! what boots thee now, “ To weave fresh girlonds for thy Stella's brow? • No girlond ever more may

Stella

wear, « Nor see the flowery season of the year, “ Nor dance, nor sing, nor ever fweetly smile, “ And every toil of Colinet beguile."

Awakë, my pipe; in every note express Fair Stella's death, and Celinet's distress.

316 “ Throw by the lilý, daffodil, and rose ; « Wreaths of black yew, and willow pale, compose,

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“ With baneful hemlock, deadly nightshade, dress'd, " Such chaplets as may witness thine unreit, “ If aught can witness: 0, ye shepherds tell, “ When I am dead, no fhepherd lov'd fo well!”

Awake, my pipe; in every note express Fair Stella's death, and Colinet's distress.

124 Alack, my sheep! and thou, dear spotless lamb, “ By Stella nurs'd, who wean'd' the from the dam, What heed give I to aught but to my grief, “ My whole employment, and my whole relief! 128 " Stray where ye lift, some happier master try : Yet once, my flock, was none so bless'd as I."

Awake, my pipe; in every note express Fair Stella's death, and Colinet's distress.

" My pipe, whose foothing found could passion move, " And first taught Stella's virgin-heart to love, • Shall filent hang upon this blafted oak, " Whence owls their dirges sing, and ravens croak : 136 “ Nor lark, nor linnet, hall my day delight, Nor nightingale suspend my moan by night: “ The night and day shall undistinguish'd be, " Alike to Stella, and alike to me.

140 No more, my pipe; here cease we to express : Foir Stella's death, and Colinet's diftress.

Thus, forrowing, did the gentle shepherd fios,
And urge the valley with his wail to ring.
And now that sheep-hook for my song I crave.

*144

ARGOL.

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AR GOL.
Not this, but one more costly, shalt thou have,
Of season'd elm, where studs of brass appear,
To speak the giver's name, the month, and year ; 148
The hook of polith'd steel, the handle torn’d,
And richly by the carver's skill adorn'd.

0, Colinet, how sweet thy grief to hear!
How does thy verte subdue the listening ear! 152
Soft falling as the ftill, refreshing dew,
To Nake the drought, and herbage to renew :
Not half so sweet the midnight winds, which move
In drowsy murmurs o'er the waving grove, 156
Nor valley brook that, hid by alders, fpeeds
O'er pebbles warbling, and through whispering reeds,
Nor dropping waters, which from rocks distil,
And welly-grots with tinkling echoes fill. 160
Thrice happy Colinet, who can relieve
Heart-anguish fore, and make it sweet to grieve!
And next to thee fhall Myco bear the bell,
Who can repeat thy peerless song so well: 164
But see! the hills increasing shadows cast;
The sun, I ween, is leaving us in haste :
His weakly rays faint glimmer through the wood,
And bluey mists arise from yonder flood.

168
M Y CO.
Bid then our dogs to gather in the sheep.
Good shepherds, with their flock, betimes should sleep.
Who late lies down, thou know'st, as late will rise,
And, fluggard-like, to noon-day snoring lies,

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