Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

,,Ah! now it does, my drooping heart rejoice, When in the hall I hear thy mellow voice! ,,How would that voice exceed the village bell, Would thou but sing:,,I like thee passing well!"

[ocr errors][ocr errors]

When from the hearth she bade the pointers go,
How soft, how easy, did her accents flow!

Get out", she cry'd,,, when strangers come to sup,
One ne'er can raise those snoring devils up."

,,Then, full of wrath, she kick'd each lazy brute; Alas! I envy'd even that salute:

,,'Twas sure misplac'd Shock said, or seem'd to say, He had as lief, I had the kick, as they.

[ocr errors]

,, If she the mystic bellows take in hand, Who like the fair can that machine command? ,, O may'st thou ne'er by Eolus be seen,

,,For he would sure demand thee for his queen.

[ocr errors]

But should the flame this rougher aid refuse, ,,And only gentler med'eines be of use;

With full-blown cheeks she ends the doubtful strife, ,, Foments the infant flame, and puffs it into life.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

Such arts as these exalt the drooping fire,

But in my breast a fiercer flame inspire:

„I burn! I burn! O! give thy puffing o'er,

„And swell thy cheeks and pout thy lips no more!

[ocr errors][merged small]

With all her haughty looks, the time I've seen, When this proud damsel has more humble been, When with nice airs she hoist the pan- cake round, And dropt it, hapless fair! upon the ground.

39

Look, with what charming grace! what winning tricks, ,,The artful charmer rubs the candlesticks!

,,So bright she makes the candlesticks she handles, ,, Oft have I said there were no need of candles.

,, But thou, my fair! who never wouldst approve, Or hear the tender story of my love,

,, Or mind, how burns my raying breast

a button

,, Perhaps art dreaming of a breast of mutton."

[ocr errors]

Thus said, and wept, the sad desponding 'swain,

Revealing to the sable walls his pain:

But nymphs are free with those they should deny;
To these, they love, more exquisitely coy!

[ocr errors]

Now chirping crickets raise their tinkling voice, The lambent flames in languid streams arise,

And smoke in azure folds evaporates and dies.

3) A PA 8 TORAL BALL
in four Parts 1743.

Arbusta humilesque myricae,

I. ABSENCE.

VIRG.

Ye Shepherds so cheerful and gay,

Whose flocks never carelessly roam,
Should Corydon's happen to stray,

Oh! call the poor wanderers home.
Allow me to muse and to sigh,

Nor talk of the change that ye find;
None once was so watchful as I;

I have left my dear Phyllis behind.
Now I know what it is, to have strove
With the torture of doubt and desire;
What it is to admire and to love,

And to leave her we love and admire.
Ah! lead forth my flock in the morn,
And the damps of each evening repel;
Alas! I am faint and forlorn:

D,

I have bade my dear Phyllis farewell.

Since Phyllis vouchsaf'd me a look,

I never once dreamt of my vine;
May I loose both my pipe and my crook,
If I knew of a kid that was mine.

I priz'd ev'ry hour that went by

Beyond all that had pleas'd me before;
But now they are past, and I sigh,

And I grieve that I priz'd them no more.

But why do I languish in vain;

Why wander thus pensively here?

Oh! why did I come from the plain,

Where I fed on the smiles of my dear?

}

They tell me, my favourite maid,

The pride of that valley, is flown; Alas! where with her I have stray'd

I could wander with pleasure, alone. When forc'd the fair nymph to forego, What anguish I felt at mẹ heart! Yet I thought

but it might not be so "Twas with pain that she saw me depart. She gaz'd as I slowly withdrew;

My path I could hardly discern; So sweetly she bade me adieu,

I thought that she bade me return.

The pilgrim that journeys all day

To visit some far- distant shrine, If he bear but a relique away,

Is happy, nor heard to repine. Thus widely remov'd from the fair, Where my vows, my devotion, I owe, Soft hope is the relique I bear, And my solace wherever I go.

11. НОРЯ.

My banks they are farnish'd with bees,
Whose murmur invites one to sleep:
My grottos are shaded with trees,

And my hills are white over with sheep. I seldom have met with a loss,

Such health do my fountains bestow; My fountains all border'd with moss, Where the hare-bells and violets grow.

Not a pine in my grove is there seen
But with tendrils of woodbine is bound;
Not beech's more beautiful green,
But a sweet- briar entwines it around:
Not my fields in the prime of the year,
More charms than my cattle unfold;
Not a brook that is limpid and clear,
But it glitters with fishes of gold.

[ocr errors]

One would think she might like to retire

To the bower I have labour'd to rear;

Not a shrub that I heard her admire,
But I hasted and planted it there.
O how sudden the jessamine strove
With the lilac to render it gay!
Already it calls for my love,

To prune the wild branches away.

From the plains, from the woodlands, and groves,
What strains of wild melody flow!
How the nightingales warble their loves
From thickets of roses that blow!
And when her bright form shall appear,
Each bird shall harmoniously join

In a concert so soft and so clear,

As she may not be fond to resign.

1

I have found out a gift for my fair:

I have found where the wood-pigeons breed; But let me that plunder forbear,

She will say 'twas a barbarous deed: For he ne'er could be true, she aver'd,

Who could rob a poor bird of its young;
And I lov'd her the more when I heard,
Such tenderness fall from her tongue.

I have heard her with sweetness unfold
How that pity was due to - a dove;
That it ever attended the bold;

And she call'd it the sister of love.
But her words such a pleasure convey,
So much L her accents adore,
Let her speak, and whatever she say,
Methinks I should love her the more.

Can a bosom so gentle remain

Unmov'd, 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. But where does my Phyllida stray?

And where are her grots and her bowers?

Are the groves and the vallies as gay,
And the shepherds as gentle as ours?
The groves may perhaps be as fair,

And the face of the vallies as fine,
The swains may in manners compare,
But their love is not equal to mine.

III. SOLICITUDE.

Why will you my passion reprove?
Why term it a folly to grieve?
Ere I show you the charms of my love,
She is 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 ev'ry way pleasing to me. \,,
O you that have been of her train,

Come and join in my amorous lays;
I could lay down my life for the swain

That will sing but a song in her praise. When he sings, may the nymphs of the town Come trooping, and listen the while;

Nay, on him let not Phyllida frown;

But I cannot allow her to smile.

For when Paridel tries in the dance
Any favour with Phyllis to find,
O how, with one trivial glance,
Might she ruin the peace of
In ringlets he dresses his hair,

my

mind!

And, his crook is bestudded around;

And his pipe oh! my Phyllis, beware
Of a magic there is in the sound!

Tis his with mock passion to glow;
"Tis his in smooth tales to unfold
,,How her face is as bright as the snow,
And her bosom, be sure, is as cold:
How the neightingales labour the strain,
With the notes of his charmer to vie;
How they vary their accents in vain,
Repine at her triumphs, and die.""

« AnteriorContinuar »