Wilt thou, indulgent, hear my verfe relate
The various changes of a lover's flate;
And while each turn of paffion I pursue,
Afk thy own heart if what I tell be true?

To the green margin of a lonely wood,
Whose pendent shades o'erlook'd a filver flood,
Young Damon came, 'unknowing were he ftray'd,
Full of the image of his beauteous maid :
His flock far off, unfed, untended lay,
To every favage a defenceless prey;

No fenfe of int'reft could their mafter move,
And every care feern'd trifling now but Love.
Awhile in penfive filence he remain'd,

But though his voice was mute, his looks complain'd;
At length the thoughts within his bofom pent,

Forc'd his unwilling tongue to give them vent.

Ye Nymphs, he cry'd, ye Dryads, who fo long
Have favour'd Damon, and infpir'd his fong;
For whom, retir'd, I fhun the gay reforts
Of fportful cities, and of pompous courts;
In vain I bid the reftlefs world adieu,
To feek tranquillity and peace with you.
Though wild Ambition and destructive Rage
No Factions here can form, no wars can wage;
Though Fnvy frowns not on your humble fhades,
Nor Calumny your innocence invades,

Yet cruel Love, that troubler of the breast,
Too often violates your boasted rest;

With inbred ftorms disturbs

your

calm retreat,

And taints with bitterness each rural sweet.

Ah luckless day! when firft with fond furprize On Delia's face I fix'd my eager eyes ;

Then in wild tumults all my foul was toft,

Then reason, liberty, at once were loft :

And every with, and thought, and care was gone,
But what my heart employ'd on her alone.
Then too fhe fmil'd: can fmiles our peace deftroy,
Those lovely Children of Content and Joy ?
How can foft pleasure and tormenting woe,
From the fame spring at the fame moment flow?
Unhappy boy, these vain enquiries cease,
Thought could not guard, nor will restore thy peace;
Indulge the frenzy that thou must endure,
And footh the pain thou know'ft not how to cure.
Come, flatt'ring Memory, and tell my heart
How kind the was, and with what pleasing art
She ftrove its fondest wishes to obtain,
Confirm her pow'r, and fafter bind my chain,
If on the green we danc'd, a mirthful band,
To me alone, she gave her willing hand;
Her partial taste, if e'er I touch'd the lyre,
Still in my fong found fomething to admire.
By none but her my crook with flow'rs was crown'd,
By none but her my brows with ivy bound:
The world that Damon was her choice believ'd,
The world, alas! like Damon was deceiv'd.

When laft I faw her, and declar'd my fire,
In words as foft as paffion could inspire,
Coldly fhe heard, and full of fcorn withdrew,
Without one pitying glance, one sweet adieu.
The frighted hind, who fees his ripen'd corn
Up from the roots by fudden tempest torn,
Whofe faireft hopes destroy'd and blafted lie,
Feels not so keen a pang of grief as I.
Ah! how have I deferv'd, inhuman maid,
To have my faithful fervice thus repay'd?
Were all the marks of kindness I receiv'd,
But dreams of joy, that charm'd me and deceiv'd?
Or did you only nurfe my growing love,
That with more pain I might your hatred prove?
Sure guilty treachery no place could find
In fuch a gentle, fuch a gen'rous mind:
A maid brought up the woods and wilds among,
Could ne'er have learnt the art of courts so young:
No; let me rather think her anger feign'd,
Still let me hope my Delia may be gain'd;

'Twas only modefty that feem'd disdain,

And her heart fuffer'd when she gave me pain.

Pleas'd with this flatt'ring thought the love-fick boy Felt the faint dawnings of a doubtful joy;

Back to his flock more chearful he return'd,

When now the fetting fun lefs fiercely burn'd;

Blue vapours rofe along the mazy rills,

And light's last blushes ting'd the distant hills.

HOPE.

HOPE. ECLOGUE II.

To Mr. DODDINGTON.

HEar, DODDINGTON, the notes that shepherds fing,

Notes foft as thofe of nightingales in fpring:

Nor Pan, nor Phoebus tune the fhepherd's reed;
From Love alone our tender lays proceed :
Love warms our fancy with enliv'ning fires,
Refines our genius, and our verse inspires :
From him Theocritus, on Enna's plains,
Learnt the wild fweetnefs of his Doric ftrains
Virgil by him was taught the moving art,
That charm'd each ear, and foften'd every heart:
O would't thou quit the pride of courts, and deign
To dwell with us upon the vocal plain,

;

Thee too his pow'r fhould reach, and every fhade
Refound the praises of thy fav'rite maid ;
Thy pipe our rural concert would improve,
And we should learn of thee to please and love.
Damon no longer fought the filent shade,
No more in unfrequented paths he ftray'd,
But call'd the nymphs to hear his jocund fong,
And told his joy to all the ruftic throng.

Bleft be the hour, he faid, that happy hour, When first I own'd my Delia's gentle pow'r; Then gloomy difcontent and pining care Foríook my breaft, and left soft wishes there: Soft wishes there they left, and gay defires, Delightful languors, and tranfporting fires. Where yonder limes combine to form a shade, Thefe eyes firft gaz'd upon the charming maid; There she appear'd, on that auspicious day, When fwains their sportive rites to Bacchus pay: She led the dance-heav'ns! with what grace the mov'd! Who could have feen her then, and not have lov'd?

I ftrove not to refift 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 fwain, fecure of joy?
Can no reverse thy flatt'ring bliss destroy?
Has treach'rous Love no torment yet in ftore?
Or haft thou never prov'd his fatal pow'r?
Whence flow'd those tears that late bedew'd thy cheek?
Why figh'd thy heart as if it ftrove to break?
Why were the defart rocks invok'd to hear

The plaintive accents of thy fad despair?
From Delia's rigour all those pains arose,
Delia, who now compaffionates my woes,
Who bids me hope; and in that charming word
Has peace and transport to my foul restor❜d.