Oh happy Brooks, oh happy Rivulets,
And Springs that in a thousand Windings move;
Upon your Banks how oft Aminta sits,
And prattles to you all her Tale of Love:
Whilst your smooth surface little Circles bears,
From the Impressions of her falling Tears,
And as you wantonly reflecting pass,
Glide o're the lovely Image of her Face;
And sanctifies your stream, which as you run,
You Boast in Murmurs to the Banks along.
Dear Streams! to whom she gives her softest hours,
How vainly do I wish my happiness like yours.
Sometimes I rail'd again, and wou'd upbraid,
Reproachfully, the charming fickle Maid:
Sometimes I vow'd to do't no more,
But one, vain, short-liv'd hour,
Wou'd Perjure all I'd Sworn before,
And Damn my fancy'd Pow'r.
Sometimes the sullen fit wou'd last,
A teadious live-long day:
But when the wrecking hours were past,
With what Impatience wou'd I hast,
And let her Feet weep my neglect away.
Quarrels are the Reserves Love keeps in store,
To aid his Flames and make 'em burn the more.
The PENITENT.
I.
With Rigor Arm your self, (I cry'd)
It is but just and fit;
I merit all this Treatment from your Pride,
All the reproaches of your Wit;
Put on the cruel Tyrant as you will,
But know, my tender Heart adores you still.
II.
And yet that Heart has Murmur'd too, }
And been so insolent to let you know, }
It did complain, and rave, and rail'd at you; }
Yet all the while by every God I swear,
By every pitying Pow'r the wretched hear;
By all those Charms that dis-ingage,
My Soul from the extreams of Rage;
By all the Arts you have to save and kill,
My faithful tender Heart adores you still.
III.
But oh you shou'd excuse my soft complaint,
Even my wild Ravings too prefer,
I sigh, I burn, I weep, I faint,
And vent my Passions to the Air;
Whilst all my Torment, all my Care
Serves but to make you put new Graces on,
You Laugh, and Rally my despair,
Which to my Rivals renders you more fair;
And but the more confirms my being undone:
Sport with my Pain as gayly as you will,
My fond, my tender Heart adores you still.
My differing Passions thus, did never cease,
Till they had touch'd her Soul with tenderness;
My Rivals now are banish'd by degrees, }
And with 'em all my Fears and Jealousies; }
And all advanc'd, as if design'd to please. }