And all your children ftoln from thence
Are now growne Puritanes,
Who live as changelings ever fince,
For love of your demaines.
At morning and at evening both
You merry were and glad,
So little care of fleepe and floth
These prettie ladies had.

When Tom came home from labour,
Or Cifs to milking rose,
Then merrily went their tabour,
And nimbly went their toes.
Witness those rings and roundelayes
Of theirs, which yet remaine;
Were footed in queen Maries dayes
On many a grafly playne.
But fince of late Elizabeth

And later James came in;
They never danc'd on any heath,
As when the time had been.
By which wee note the fairies

Were of the old profeffion :
Their fongs were Ave Maries,
Their dances were proceffion.
But now, alas! they all are dead,
Or gone beyond the feas,
Or farther for religion fled,

Or else they take their ease.
A tell-tale in their company
They never could endure;
And whofo kept not fecretly
Their mirth, was punish'd fure:
It was a juft and christian deed

To pinch fuch blacke and blue :
O how the common-welth doth need
Such juftices as you!

Now they have left our quarters;
A Regifter they have,
Who can preferve their charters;
A man both wife and grave.
An hundred of their merry pranks
By one that I could name

Are kept in ftore; con twenty thanks
To William for the fame.

To William Churne of Staffordshire
Give laud and praises due,
Who every meale can mend

your

With tales both old and true; To William all give audience, And pray yce for his noddle; For all the fairies evidence Were loft, if it were addle.

cheare

126. Unfading Beauty. This little beautiful fonnet is reprinted from a fmall volume of "Poems by THOMAS CAREW, Efq.. "one of the gentlemen of the privie-chamber, "and fewer in ordinary to his majefty Charles I. "Lond. 1640." This clegant, and almost forgotten writer, whofe¡ oems have been deservedly revived, died in the prime of his age, in 1639.

In the original follows a third ftanza, which not being of general application, nor of equal merit, I have ventured to omit.

HEE that loves a rofie checke,
Or corall lip admires,

Or from star-like eyes doth feeke
Fuell to maintaine his fires :
As old time makes thefe decay,
So his flames must waste away.
But a smooth and ftedfafte mind,
Gentle thoughts, and calme defires,
Hearts with equal love combin'd,
Kindle never-dying fires:
Where these are not, I defpife
Lovely cheekes, or lips, or eyes.

Go, tuneful bird, that gladd'st the skies,
To Daphne's window speed thy way;
And there on quiv'ring pinions.rife,
And there thy vocal art display.

And if the deign thy notes to hear,
And if the praife thy matin fong,
Tell her, the founds that footh her ear,
To Damon's native plains belong.
Tell her, in livelier plumes array'd,
The bird from Indian groves may shine;
But afk the lovely partial maid,

What are his notes compar'd with thine?

Then bid her treat yon witlefs beau
And all his flaunting race with fcorn;
And lend an ear to Damon's woe,
Who fings her praise, and fings forlorn.

AT the clofe of the day, when the hamlet is still, And mortals the fweets of forgetfulness prove, When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill, And nought but the nightingale's fong in the grove

'Twas then, by the cave of the mountain reclin'd, A Hermit his nightly complaint thus began: Tho' mournful his numbers, his foul was refign'd; He thought as a fage, tho' he felt as a man. Ah! why, thus abandon'd to darkness and woe, Why thus, lonely Philomel, flows thy fad 'ftrain ?

$129. A Paftoral Ballad. In Four Parts. SHENSTONE.

I. ABSENCE.

YE thepherds fo cheerful and gay,
Whofe flocks never carelessly ream;
Should Corydon's happen to ftray,

O call the poor wanderers home.
Allow me to mufe and to figh,

Nor talk of the change that ye find; None, once, was fo watchful as I :

-I have left my dear Phyllis behind. Now I know what it is to have strove

With the torture of doubt and defire; What it is, to admire and to love,

And to leave her we love and admire. Ah, lead forth my flock in the morn,

And the damps of each evening repel; Alas! I am faint and forlorn:

-I have bade my dear Phyllis farewel,
Since Phyllis vouchfaf'd me a look,

I never once dream'd of my vine;
May I lofe both my pipe and my crook,
If I knew of a kid that was mine!
I priz'd every hour that went by,

Beyond all that had pleas'd me before;
But now they are pafs'd, and I figh,
And I grieve that I priz'd them no more.
But why do I languish in vain?

Why wander thus penfively here ?
O, why did I come from the plain,
Where I fed on the fmiles of my dear?
They tell me, my favourite maid,

The pride of that valley, is flown!
Alas! where with her I have stray'd,
I could wander with pleasure, alone,
When forc'd the fair nymph to forego,

What anguifh I felt at my heart!
Yet I thought-but it might not be fo-
'Twas with pain that the faw me depart.

She gaz'd, as I flowly withdrew;
My path I could hardly difcern ;
So fweetly the bade me adieu,

I thought that the bade me return,
The pilgrim that journeys all day
To vifit fome far diftant fhrine,
If he bear but a relique away,

Is happy, nor heard to repine.
Thus widely remov'd from the fair,
Where my vows, my devotion, I owe,
Soft Hope is the relique I bear,
And my folace wherever I go.

II. H O P E.

MY banks they are furnifh'd with bees,
Whofe murmur invites one to fleep;
My grottos are fhaded with trees,
And my hills are white over with sheep.
I feldom have met with a lofs,

Such health do my fountains beftow; My fountains, all border'd with mofs, Where the hare-bells and violets grow. Not a pine in my grove is there seen, But with tendrils of woodbine is bound; Not a beech's more beautiful green,

But a sweet-brier twines it around. Not my fields in the prime of the year More charms than my cattle unfold: Not a brook that is limpid and clear,

But it glitters with fishes of gold. One would think the might like to retire To the bow'r I have labour'd to rear ; Not a fhrub that I heard her admire,

But I hafted and planted it there., O how fudden the jeffamine ftrove With the lilac to render it gay! Already it calls for my love,

To prune the wild branches away. From the plains, from the woodlands, and groves, What ftrains of wild melody flow! How the nightingales warble their loves, From thickets of rofes that blow ! And when her bright form fhall appear, Each bird fhall harmoniously join In a concert fo foft and fo clear,

As he may not be fond to refign. I have found out a gift for my fair,

I have found where the wood-pigeons broed: But let me that plunder forbear,

She will fay 't was a barbarous deed.
For he ne'er could be true, the averr'd,
Who could rob a poor bird of its young;
And I lov'd her the more when I heard
Such tenderness fall from her tongue.

I have heard her with sweetness unfold
How that pity was due to a dove :
That it ever attended the bold,

And the call'd it the fifter of love.
But her words fuch a pleasure convey,
So much I her accents adore,
Let her fpeak, and, whatever the fay,
Methinks I should love her the more.

Can

Can a bofom fo gentle remain

Unmov'd, when her Corydon fighs? Will a nymph that is fond of the plain, Thefe plains and this valley defpife? Dear regions of filence and fhade!

Soft fcenes of contentment and ease! Where I could have pleasingly ftray'd,

If aught, in her abfence, could please. But where does my Phyllida ftray?

And where are her grots and her bow'rs? Are the groves and the valleys as gay,

And the thepherds as gentle as ours? The groves may perhaps be as fair,

And the face of the valleys as fine;
The fwains may in manners compare,
But their love is not equal to mine.

III. SOLICITUDE.
WHY will you my paflion reprove?
Why term it a folly to grieve?
Ere I fhew you the charms of my love,
She is fairer than you can believe.
With her mien fhe enamours the brave;
With her wit fhe engages the free;
With her modefty pleates the grave;
She is ev'ry way pleafing to me.
O you that have been of her train,

Come and join in my amorous lays!
I could lay down my life for the fain

That will fing but a fong in her praise.
When he fings, may the nymphs of the town
Come trooping, and liften the while;
Nay, on him let not Phyllida frown;
-But I cannot allow her to fmile.
For when Paridel tries in the dance
Any favour with Phyllis to find,
how, with one trivial glance,
Might the ruin the peace of my mind!
In ringlets he drefes his hair,

And his crook is beftudded around;
And his pipe-O may Phyllis beware
Of a magic there is in the found!
'Tis his with mock paffion to glow;

'Tis his in fmooth tales to unfold,
"How her face is as bright as the foow,

"And her bofom, be fure, is as cold; "How the nightingales labour the ftrain, "With the notes of his charmer to vie; "How they vary their accents in vain, Repine at her triumphs, and die.” To the grove or the garden he strays, And pillages every sweet;

Then, fuiting the wreath to his lays, He throws it at Phyllis's feet. "O Phyllis," he whilpers, more fair,

"More fweet than the jeffamine's flow'r! "What are pinks, in a morn, to compare? "What is eglantine after a fhow'r? "Then the lily no longer is white; "Then the role is depriv'd of its bloom; "Then the violets die with defpite,

Thus glide the foft numbers along,
And he fancies no shepherd his peer ;
Yet I never fhould envy the fong,

Ware not Phyllis to lend it an ear.
Let his crook be with hyacinths botind,
So Phyllis the trophy defpife;
Let his forehead with laurels be crown'd,
So they fhine not in Phyllis's eyes.
The language that flows from the heart
Is a ftranger to Paridel's tongue.
Yet may fhe beware of his art,
Or fure I must envy the fong!

IV.

DISAPPOINTMENT. YE fhepherds, give car to my lay,

And take no more heed of my theep;
They have nothing to do but to ftray;
I have nothing to do but to weep.
Yet do not my folly reprove;

She was fair-and my paffion begun;
She fimil'd-and I could not but love;
She is faithlefs-and I am undone.
Perhaps I was void of all thought;
Perhaps it was plain to forelee,
That a nymph fo complete would be fought
By a fwain more engaging than me.
Ah! love ev'ry hope can infpire:

It banishes wifdom the while;
And the lip of the nymph we admire
Seems for ever adora'd with a smile.
She is faithlefs, and I am undone;

Ye that witnefs the woes I endure,
Let Reafon inftruct you to fhun

What it cannot inftruct you to cure. Beware how you loiter in vain

Amid nymphs of an higher degree : It is not for me to explain

How fair and how fickle they be.
Alas from the day that we met,

What hope of an end to my woes ?
When I cannot endure to forget
The glance that undid my repofe.
Yet time may diminish the pain:

The flow'r, and the fhrub, and the tree,
Which I rear'd for her pleafure, in vain,
In time may have comfort for me.
The fweets of a dew-sprinkled rofe,

The found of a murmuring ftream, The peace which from solitude flows,

Henceforth fhall be Corydon's theme. High tranfports are fhewn to the fight,

But we are not to find them our own: Fate never beftow'd fuch delight,

As I with my Phyllis had known.

O ye woods, fpread your branches apace;
To your deepest receffes I fly;

I would hide with the beafts of the chace';
I would vanish from ev'ry eye.
Yet my reed fhall refound thro' the grove

With the fame fad complaint it begun; How the fmil'd, and I could not but love; Was faithlefs, and I am undone !

MY time, O ye Mufes! was happily spent,

When Phoebe went with me wherever I went : Ten thousand foft pleasures I felt in my breaft: Sure never fond fhepherd like Colin was bleft. But now the is gone, and has left me behind, What a marvellous change on a fudden I find! When things were as fine as could poffibly be, I thought it was Spring; but, alas! it was fhe. The fountain that wont to run fweetly along, And dance to foft murmurs the pebbles among, Thou know'ft, little Cupid, if Phoebe was there, It was pleasant to look at, 'twas mufic to hear. But, now he is abfent, I walk by its fide, And, ftill as it murmurs, do nothing but chide : Muft you be fo cheerful, whilft I go in pain? Peace there with your bubbling, and hear me complain.

My dog I was ever well pleafed to fee Come wagging his tail to my fair one and me; And Phoebe was pleas'd too, and to my dog faid, Come hither, poor fellow;" and patted his head. now, when he 's fawning, I with a four look! Cry," Sirrah," and give him a blow with my

But

crook :

All

you, my companions fo dear, Who forrow to fee me betray'd, Whatever I fuffer, forbear,

Forbear to accuse the falfe maid.

Tho' thro' the wide world I fhould range, 'Tis in vain from my fortune to fly; 'Twas hers to be falfe and to change;

'Tis mine to be conftant-and die.

If, while my hard fate I fuftain,

In her breaft any pity is found; Let her come with the nymphs of the plain, And fee me laid low in the ground: The laft humble boon that I crave,

Is to fhade me with cypress and yew; And when the looks down on my grave, Then to her new love let her go, Let her own that her fliepherd was true.

And deck her in golden array;
Be fineft at ev'ry fine show,

While Colin, forgotten and gone,
And frolic it all the long day:

No more fhall be talk'd of or feen,
Unlefs when, beneath the pale moon,
His ghoft fhall glide over the green.

PARNELL.

§ 132. A Fairy Tale.
IN Britain's ifle, and Arthur's days,
When midnight Fairies daunc'd the maze,
Liv'd Edwin of the Green;

Edwin, I wis, a gentle youth,
Endow'd with courage, fenfe and truth;
Tho' badly fhap'd he been.

His mountain back mote well be faid
To measure height against his head,
And lift itself above;
Yet, fpite of all that Nature did
To make his uncouth form forbid,

This creature dar'd to love.
He felt the charms of Edith's eyes,
Nor wanted hope to gain the prize,
Could ladies look within;

But one Sir Topaz drefs'd with art,
And, if a thape could win a heart,
He had a shape to win.
Edwin, if right I read my fong,
With flighted paffion pac'd along
All in the moony light;
'Twas near an old inchanted court,
Where fportive fairies made refort,

To revel out the night.

His heart was drear, his hope was crofs'd,
'Twas late, 'twas far, the path was loft

That reach'd the neighbour town.
With weary steps he quits the fhades,
Refolv'd, the darkling dome he treads,
And drops his limbs adown.
But fcant he lays him on the floor,
When hollow winds remove the door,
A trembling rocks the ground:
And, well I ween to count aright,
At once an hundred tapers light

On all the walls around.
Now founding tongues affail his ear,
Now founding feet approachen near,
And now the founds increase:
And from the corner where he lay,
He fees a train protufely gay

Come prankling o'er the place.
But (trust me, gentles!) never yet
Was dight a mafquing half fo neat,

Or half fo rich, before;
The country lent the fweet perfumes,
The fea the pearl, the fky the plumes,
The town its filken ftore.
Now, whilft he gaz'd, a gallant, dreft
In flaunting robes above the reft,

With awful accent cried:
What mortal, of a wretched mind,
Whofe fighs infect the balmy wind,
Has here prefum'd to hide ?

At this the fwain, whofe vent'rous foul
No fears of magic art controul,

Advanc'd in open fight;
"Nor have I caufe of dread," he faid,
"Who view, by no prefumption led,

Your revels of the night.
'Twas grief, for fcorn of faithful love,
Which made my steps unweeting rove
Amid the nightly dew."
'Tis well, the gallant cries again,
We fairies never injure men

Who dare to tell us true,
Exalt thy love-dejected heart;
Be mine the task, or ere we part,
To make thee grief refign,.
Now take the pleasure of thy chaunce;
Whilft I with Mab, my partner, daunce,
Be little Mable thine."

He spoke, and, all a fudden, there
Light mufic floats in wanton air;

The Monarch leads the Queen :
The reft their fairic partners found;
And Mable trimly tript the ground,
With Edwin of the green.
The dauncing paft, the board was laid,
And fiker fuch a feast was made

As heart and lip defire: Withouten hands the dishes fly, The glaffes with a wifh come nigh, And with a with retire.

But now, to please the fairie king, Full ev'ry deal they laugh and fing, And antic feats devife;

Some wind and tumble like an ape,
And other fome tranfmute their shape
In Edwin's wond'ring eyes.
Till one, at laft, that Robin hight,
Renown'd for pinching maids by night,
Has bent him up aloof;

And full against the beam he flung,
Where by the back the youth he hung,
To fprawl unneath the roof.

From thence," Reverse my charm," he cries,
"And let it fairly now fuffice

The gambol has been fhewn."
But Oberon anfwers with a fmile,
Content thee, Edwin, for awhile,

The vantage is thine own.-
Here ended all the phantom play;
They fmelt the froth approach of day,
And heard a cock to crow;
The whirling wind, that bore the crowd,
Has clapp'd the door, and whiftled loud,
To warn them all to go.
Then, fcreaming, all at once they fly,
And all at once the tapers die;

Poor Edwin falls to floor;
Forlorn his state, and dark the place,
Was never wight in fuch a cafe
Thro' all the land before.
But, foon as dan Apollo rofe,
Full jolly creature home he goes,

He fells his back the lefs;
His honeft tongue and fteady mind
Had rid him of the lump behind,

Which made him want fuccefs.
With lufty livelyhed he talks,
Me feems a-dauncing as he walks ;
His ftory foon took wind;
And beauteous Edith fees the youth
Endow'd with courage, fenfe, and truth,
Without a bunch behind.
The ftory told, Sir Topaz mov'd,
The youth of Edith erst approv'd,

To fee the revel scene:

At clofe of eve he leaves his home,
And wends to find the ruin'd dome
All on the gloomy plain.
As there he bides, it to befel,
The wind came ruftling down a dell,
A fhaking feiz'd the wall:
Up fprung the tapers as before,
The fairies bragly foot the floor,
And mufic fills the hall.
But, certes, forely funk with woɛ
Sir Topaz fees the Elphin fhow,

His fpirits in him die;
When Oberon crics, "A man is near;
A mortal paffion, cleeped fear,

Hangs flagging in the fky."