PASTORAL
IN THE
MANNER OF SPENSER.
FROM THEOCRITUS. IDYLL XX.
BY THE SAME.
I.
As late I strove lucilla's lip to kiss,
She with discurtesee reprov'd my will;
Dost thou, she said, affect so pleasaunt bliss,
A simple shepherd, and a losell vile?
Not Fancy's hand should join my courtly lip
To thine, as I myself were fast asleep.
II.
As thus she spake, full proud and boasting lasse,
And as a peacocke pearke, in dalliance,
She bragly turned her ungentle face,
And all disdaining ey'd my shape askaunce:
But I did blush, with grief and shame yblent,
Like morning-rose with hoary dewe besprent.
III.
Tell me, my fellows all, am I not fair?
Has fell enchantress blasted all her charms?
Whilom mine head was sleek with tressed hayre,
My laughing eyne did shoot out love's alarms:
E'en kate did deemen me the fairest swain,
When erst I won this girdle on the plain.
IV.
My lip with vermil was embellished,
My bagpipes notes loud and delicious were,
The milk-white lilly, and the rose so red,
Did on my face depeinten lively cheere,
My voice as soote as mounting larke did shrill,
My look was blythe as margaret's at the mill.
V.
But she forsooth, more fair than madge or kate,
A dainty maid, did deign not shepherd's love;
Nor wist what thenot told us swains of late;
That venus sought a shepherd in a grove;
Nor that a heav'nly god who phoebus hight,
To tend his flock with shepherds did delight.——
VI.
Ah! 'tis that venus with accurst despight,
That all my dolour, and my shame has made!
Nor does remembrance of her own delight,
For me one drop of pity sweet persuade?
Aye hence the glowing rapture may she miss,
Like me be scorn'd, nor ever taste a kiss.
INSCRIBED
ON A BEAUTIFUL
GROTTO NEAR THE WATER.
I.
The Graces sought in yonder stream,
To cool the fervid day,
When love's malicious godhead came,
And stole their robes away.
II.
Proud of the theft, the little god
Their robes bade delia wear;
While they, asham'd to stir abroad,
Remain all naked here.
LOVE ELEGY.
BY MR. SMOLLET.
I.
Where now are all my flatt'ring dreams of joy!
Monimia, give my soul her wonted rest;—
Since first thy beauty fix'd my roving eye,
Heart-gnawing cares corrode my pensive breast.
II.
Let happy lovers fly where pleasures call,
With festive songs beguile the fleeting hour;
Lead Beauty thro' the mazes of the ball,
Or press her wanton in love's roseate bow'r.
III.
For me, no more I'll range th' empurpled mead,
Where shepherds pipe, and virgins dance around;
Nor wander thro' the woodbine's fragrant shade,
To hear the music of the grove resound.
IV.
I'll seek some lonely church, or dreary hall,
Where fancy paints the glimm'ring taper blue,
Where damps hang mould'ring on the ivy'd wall,
And sheeted ghosts drink up the midnight dew:
There leagu'd with hopeless anguish and despair,
Awhile in silence o'er my fate repine;
Then, with a long farewell to love and care,
To kindred dust my weary limbs consign.
VI.
Wilt thou, monimia, shed a gracious tear
On the cold grave where all my sorrows rest?
Wilt thou strew flow'rs, applaud my love sincere,
And bid the turf lie light upon my breast!