HE loves, and the confeffes too;
There's then at last no more to do.
The happy work's entirely done,
Enter the town which thou haft won;
The fruits of conquest now begin;
Io Triumphe! enter in.
What's this, ye gods, what can it be?
Remains there still an enemy?
Bold honour stands up in the gate,
And wou'd yet capitulate:
Have I o'ercome all real foes,
And fhall this phantom me oppofe?
Noify nothing! ftalking fhade!
By what witchcraft wert thou made?
Empty cause of folid harms!
But I fhall find out counter-charms,
Thy airy devilship to remove
From this circle here of love.
Sure I fhall rid my self of thee
By the night's obfcurity,
And obfcurer fecrecy.
Unlike to every other spright,
Thou attempt'ft not men t'affright,
Nor appear'st but in the light.
UCINDA, Come, from noife and care,
Let us retire to yonder grove,
Secure from fpies, and free from fear,
And there indulge ourselves in love;
Defpifing pomp, and needlefs ftate,
And all the follies of the great.
While there on beds of turf we lie,
By nature made for love and ease;
While birds with fongs encrease our joy,
Canopy'd round with verdant trees;
Ambition be the ftatefman's task!
Your heart's the only throne I ask.
Their proud regalia's, glittering toys,
Wou'd my defires never move;
But, if kind heaven wou'd crown my joys,
Freedom's the boon, and her I love:
Her blifs I'd make my only care,
And wifely bound my wishes there.
VIVE me more love, or more difdain,
The torrid or the frozen zone
Bring equal eafe unto my pain,
The temperate affords me none;
Either extreme of love, or hate,
Is sweeter than a calm estate.
Give me a ftorm: if it be love,
Like Danaë in a golden fhower
I fwim in pleasure; if it prove
Difdain, that torrent will devour
My vulture hopes; and he's poffefst
Of heaven, that's but from hell releas'd.
Then crown my joys, or cure my pain;
Give me more love, or more disdain.
y time, o ye mufes, was happily fspent,
When Phebe went with me where-ever I went ;
Ten thousand sweet pleasures I felt in my breast:
Sure never fond fhepherd like Colin was bleft!
But now she is gone, and has left me behind,
What a marvellous change on a sudden I find?
When things were as fine as cou'd poffibly be,
I thought 'twas the fpring; but, alas! it was the.
With fuch a companion, to tend a few sheep,
To rife up and play, or to lie down and fleep;
I was fo good-humour'd, fo chearful and gay,
My heart was as light as a feather all day:
But now I fo cross and fo peevish am grown,
So ftrangely uneafy as never was known;
My fair one is gone, and my joys are all drown'd,
And my heart- I am fure it weighs more than a
The fountain that wont to run fweetly along, 'And dance to foft murmurs the pebbles among, Thou know'ft, little Cupid, if Phebe was there, 'Twas pleasure to look at, 'twas musick to hear; But now she is abfent, I walk by its fide, And ftill as it murmurs do nothing but chide; Muft you be fo chearful, while I go in pain? Peace there with your bubbling, and hear me complain.
When my lambkins around me wou'd oftentime play, And when Phebe and I were as joyful as they, How pleasant their sporting, how happy the time, When spring, love and beauty were all in their prime? But now in their frolicks when by me they pass, I fling at their fleeces an handful of grafs; Be ftill then, I cry, for it makes me quite mad, To fee you fo merry, while I am fo fad.
My dog I was ever well pleafed to fee
Come wagging his tail to my fair one and me;
And Phebe was pleas'd too, and to my dog faid,
Come hither, poor fellow; and patted his head.
But now, when he's fawning, I with a four look
Cry, 'firrah; and give him a blow with my crook, T
And I'll give him another; for why fhou'd not Tray
Be as dull as his master, when Phebe's away?
When walking with Phebe, what fights have I feen?
How fair was the flower, how fresh was the green?
What a lovely appearance the trees and the fhade,
The corn-fields and hedges, and every thing made?
But now he has left me, tho' all are ftill there,
They none of 'em now fo delightful appear:
'Twas nought but the magick, I find, of her eyes
Made fo many beautiful prospects arise.
Sweet mufick went with us both all the wood thro', The lark, linnet, throftle, and nightingale too; Winds over us whisper'd, flocks by us did bleat, And chirp went the grashopper under our feet.
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