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THE

GOLDFINCH.

А.

LINNET's nest with anxious care,

Young Strephon one day found me, When instantly the plunder'd pair,

With cries came fluttering round me; And is it thus cried I, unkind,

You'd raise compassion in me? Hence, cruel, hence unless

you

find Some better way to win me. Alas! if to give pain, cry'd he,

My love for you has wrought me: I practise but that cruelty

'You have so often taught me. If thus the linnet, and his mate,

Can raise compassion in you, No more unkindness imitate,

But let your Strephon win you.

This This said-like lightning back he flew,

The mossy nest restoring;
The linnets kept their young in view,

No more their loss deploring.
Meanwhile this act, so sweet, so kind,

Had rais'd affection in me, And Strephon was well

s'd to find The certain way to wili me.

YOU

ask me, sweet maid, if my vows are

sincere,
And call for some proof of my love;
Still doubting my passion, I see but too clear,

But prithee such fancies remove;
Or if, as you say, lovers' vows are but breath,

O set me some task to perform,
And I'll brave it, though circld by peril or death,
And smile as I buffet the storm:

But this, this, believe me, can poorly express,
How truly, how dearly I love thee.

Nay, bid me some action or enterprise dare,

That men, though the boldest, would shun,
And whether by water, earth, fire, or air,

I'll do it, if 'tis to be done.
And if still a doubt in thy faney remains,

Injurious to love and to me,
O fetter me more, if you can, with your chain's,
Nor ever, oh no! set me free

But this, this, believe me, &e.

let

O let my fond vows some favour obtain,

And pleasure succeed to my toil;
Accept them, dear girl, and to banish my pain,

O! crowu the kind words with a smile.
Ah, yes! for there's surely a pleasure divine

In the smile of the girl we adore;
A promise, so soft, that no words can define,
It says that your doubts are no more;
That now you believe what no words can

express,
How truly, how dearly I love thee.

YES, yes, be merciless, thou tempest dire;

Unaw'd, unshelter'd, I thy fury brave; I'll bare my bosom to thy forked fire,

Let it but guide me to Alonzo's grave!
O'er his pale corse then while thy lightnings glare
I'll press his clay-cold limbs, and perish there,

But thou wilt wake again, my boy,
- Again thou'lt rise to life and joy,

Thy father never !
Thy laughing eyes will meet the light,
Unconscious that eternal night

Veils his for ever.
On yon green bed of moss there lies my child,

Oh! safer lies from these chill'd arms apart, He sleeps, sweet lamb! nor heeds the tempest wild,

Oh! sweetersleeps than near this breaking heart. Alas! alas ! my babe, if thou would'st peaceful rest, Thy cradle must not be thy mother's breast.

Yet thou wilt wake again, &c.
B 2

AH! way?

A
H! tell me, ye swains, have you seen my

Pastora?
0
say,

have you met the sweet nymph on your Transcendant as Venus, and blithe as Aurora,

From Neptune's bed rising to hail the new day: Forlorn do Iwander,and long time have soughther,

The fairest, the rarest, for ever my theme; Agoddess in form, though a cottager's daughter, That dwells on the borders of Aln's winding

stream. Though lordlings so gay, and young 'squires have

sought her, To link her fair hand in the conjugal chain; Devoid of ambition, the cottager's daughter Convinc'd them their offers and flattery were

vain : When first I beheld her I fondly besought her,

My heart did her homage, and love was my theme, She vow'd to be mine,the sweet cottager's daughter, That dwells on the borders of Aln's winding

stream. Then why thus alone does she leave me to languish?

Pastora to splendor could near yield her hand; Ah! no, she returns to heal my sad anguish, O'er her heart love and truth retain the com

mand: The wealth of Golconda could never have bought

her, For love, truth, and constancy still is my theme, Thengive me, kind heaven, the cottager's daughter, That dwells on the borders of Aln's winding

stream.

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