Run now, you shepherd swains; ah! run you thither,
Where this fair bridegroom leads the blessed way:
And haste, you lovely maids, haste you together
With this sweet bride, while yet the sunshine day
Guides your blind steps; while yet loud summons call,
That every wood and hill resounds withal,
Come, Hymen, Hymen, come, dress'd in thy golden pall.
The sounding echo back the music flung,
While heavenly spheres unto the voices play'd.
But see! the day is ended with my song,
And sporting bathes with that fair ocean maid:
Stoop now thy wing, my muse, now stoop thee low:
Hence mayst thou freely play, and rest thee now;
While here I hang my pipe upon the willow bough.
So up they rose, while all the shepherds' throng
With their loud pipes a country triumph blew,
And led their Thirsil home with joyful song:
Meantime the lovely nymphs, with garlands new
His locks in bay and honour'd palm-tree bound,
With lilies set, and hyacinths around,
And lord of all the year and their May sportings crown'd.
END OF VOL. I.
SPECIMENS WITH MEMOIRS OF THE LESS-KNOWN BRITISH POETS.
With an Introductory Essay,
By