Runs a babbling brook hard by,
Chants the nightingale on high;
Water-nymphs with song reply.
"Sure, 'tis Paradise," I cry;
For I know not any place
Of a sweeter, fresher grace.
While I take my solace here,
And in solace find good cheer,
Shade from summer, coolness dear,
Comes a shepherd maiden near—
Fairer, sure, there breathes not now—
Plucking mulberries from the bough.
Seeing her, I loved her there:
Venus did the trick, I'll swear!
"Come, I am no thief, to scare,
Rob, or murder unaware;
I and all I have are thine,
Thou than Flora more divine!"
But the girl made answer then:
"Never played I yet with men;
Cruel to me are my kin:
My old mother scolds me when
In some little thing I stray:—
Hold, I prithee, sir, to-day!"
A fourth, consisting of a short conventional introduction in praise of Spring, followed by a dialogue between a young man and a girl, in which the metre changes for the last two stanzas, may be classed among the pastorals, although it is a somewhat irregular example of the species.
THE WOOING.
No. 26.
All the woods are now in flower,
Song-birds sing in field and bower,
Orchards their white blossoms shower:
Lads, make merry in Love's hour!
Sordid grief hath flown away,
Fervid Love is here to-day;
He will tame without delay
Those who love not while they may.