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But call’d the nymphs to hear his jocund song,
Blest be the hour, he said, that happy hour,
Then gloomy discontent and pining care Forsook my breast, and left soft wishes there: Soft wishes there they left, and gay desires, Delightful languors, and transporting fires. Where yonder limes combine to form a shade, These
eyes first gaz'd upon the charming maid; There she appear’d, on that auspicious day, When swains their sportive rites to Bacchus pay: She led the dance-heav'ns! with what grace she mov'd! Who could have seen her then, and not have lov'd ? I strove not to resist so sweet a flame, But glory'd in a happy captive's name; Nor would I now, could love permit, be free, But leave to brutes their favage liberty.
And art thou then, fond swain, secure of joy? Can no reverse thy flate’ring bliss destroy ? Has tréach'rous Love no torment yet in store? Or hast thou never prov'd his fatal pow'r? Whence flow'd those tears that late bedew'd thy cheek? Why sigh'd thy heart as if it strove to break ?
Why were the desart rocks invok'd to hear
Begin, my pipe, begin the gladsome lay ;
Hark how the bees with murmurs fill the plaing While every flow'r of every sweet they drain ; See, how beneath yon hillock's shady steep, , The shelter'd herds on flow'ry couches Neep: Nor bees, nor herds, are half so blest as I, If with my fond desires my Love comply: From Delia's lips a sweeter honey flows, And on her bosom dwells more soft repose.
Ah how, my dear, shall I deserve thy charms ? What gift can bribe thee to my longing arms ?
A bird for thee in filken bands I hold,
. His music calls to dance the night away. And you,
fair nymphs, companions of my Love,
faults from her enquiring sight, And shew my meries in the fairest light;
My pipe your kind aslistance shall repay,
But see! in yonder glade the heav'nly fair
To Mr. EDWARD WALPOLE.
IHE gods, O WALPOLE, give no bliss sincere :
Wealth is disturbid by care, and pow'r by fear,
O may the warmth of thy too tender heart
Begin, my Muse, and Damon's woes rehearse,
On a romantic mountain's airy head (While browzing goats at ease around him fed) Anxious he lay, with jealous cares oppress’d; Distrust and anger lab’ring in his breast — The vale beneath a pleasing prospect yields, Of verdant meads and cultivated fields; Through these a river rolls its winding flood, Adorn'd with various tufts of rising wood; Here half conceald in trees a cottage stands, A castle there the op'ning plain commands, Beyond, a town with glittring spires is crown'd, And diftant hills the wide horizon bound: So charming was the scene, awhile the swain Beheld delighted, and forgot his pain ; But soon the stings infix'd within his heart, With cruel force renew'd their raging smart : His flow'ry wreath, which long with pride he wore, The gift of Delia, from his brows he tore: