My softest verse, my darling lyre, Upon Euphelia's toilet lay, When Chloe noted her desire That I should sing, that I should play. My lyre I tune, my voice I raise, But with my numbers mix my sighs; Fair Chloe blush'd; Euphelia frown'd: Remark'd how ill we all dissembled. THE GARLAND. THE pride of every grove I chose, The dappled pink and blushing rose, At morn the nymph vouchsafed to place The scent less fragrant than her breath. The flowers she wore along the day, And every nymph and shepherd said, That in her hair they looked more gay Than glowing in their native bed. Undress'd at evening, when she found Their odours lost, their colours pass'd, She changed her look, and on the ground Her garland and her eye she cast. That eye dropp'd sense distinct and clear, As any Muse's tongue could speak; When from its lid a pearly tear Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek. Dissembling what I knew too well, "My love, my life, (said I,) explain This change of humour; prythee tell, That falling tear-what does it mean?" She sigh'd; she smil'd; and to the flowers Pointing, the lovely moralist said, "See, friend, in some few fleeting hours, See yonder what a change is made! "Ah me! the bloming pride of May Both fade at evening, pale and gone. "At dawn poor Stella danced and sung, The amorous youth around her bow'd; At night her fatal knell was rung; I saw and kiss'd her in her shroud. "Such as she is who died to-day, JOHN GAY, Born 1688, died 1732 SONG. 'Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring, All on a rock reclined: Wide o'er the foaming billows "Twelve months are gone and over, Why didst thou trust the seas? Cease, cease, thou cruel ocean, Ah! what's thy troubled motion "The merchant, robbed of pleasure, Views tempests in despair; But what's the loss of treasure To losing of my dear? Should you some coast be laid on, "How can they say that Nature All melancholy lying, Thus wailed she for her dear, Repaid each blast with sighing, Each billow with a tear; When o'er the white waves stooping, His floating corpse she spied; Then, like a lily drooping, She bow'd her head, and died. WILLIAM SOMERVILLE, Born 1692, died 1742. THE SUPERANNUATED LOVER DEAD to the soft delights of love, Of old, thy faithful hardy swain, (When smit with fair Pastora's charms,) I served thee many a long campaign, And wide I spread thy conquering arm›. Now, mighty god! dismiss thy slave, Adieu, fond hopes, fantastic cares ! * An imitation of Horace, Lib. IV. Carm. 1. |