And various beauties still display.
But why should I recount them still?
’Tis only to increase my pain.
She bids these verdant fields farewell,
And goes to seek a richer swain.
Calista, with thy rapid flight,
Is vanish’d each delightful gleam.
Can Drife’s fair banks give more delight,
Than Eckles’ gently winding stream?
Do sweeter scents perfume the grove,