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IN

Reftores to bloomy life each odorous flower, Gives the enamell'd meads their various hue, And calls the lively verdure forth to view; Two beauteous nymphs, the fairest of the grove, While morning rofe, alternate fung of love.

ΑΜΙΝΤΑ.

See, gentle Delia, fee the rifing dawn
Gild the green valley, and the dewy lawn!
The lark afcends, the waters murmuring flow,
And breathing winds o'er vernal roses blow;
Our lambs, exulting, wanton o'er the plain,
And Nature's charms invite the tuneful strain;
Say, then, what fwain, amid the rural throng,
Demands the tribute of thy matchlefs fong?

DELIA.

O may bleft Concord, to our land restor'd, For peaceful crooks expel the hoftile sword! Return, foft-fmiling peace, fince war's alarms Have ravish'd Daphnis from his Delia's arms.

AMINTA.

No rude alarms disturb Aminta's ease,
Alike to her are war and smiling peace;
In fmiling peace the fpends the blissful hours
With dear Alexis in fequefter'd bowers.

DELIA.

In vain, when Zephyr wakes the genial fpring, The feather'd train their notes melodious fing; Their notes melodious no delight infpire, Since Daphnis' voice is wanting in the choir.

AMINTA.

To me or spring or autumn grateful prove;
The seasons change, but not Alexis' love:
Alexis' conftant love, in melting strains,
Repeating Echo murmurs to the plains:
His breathing fighs, convey'd by fanning gales,
Improve the fragrance of the flowery vales.

DELIA.

Tell me, ye fmiling meads! ye velvet plains! Why, Daphnis gone, your verdure still remains? With heedless glance I pafs your beauties o'er; Still, ftill you fmile, but ah! you please no more.

AMINTA.

Sweet is the month when bounteous Nature fpreads
Her vernal mantle o'er the daify'd meads;
Sweet are the pearly dew-drops o'er the field,
And sweet the fcent the rifing violets yield;
Sweet is the breath of Zeph'rus in the breeze:
Sure of Alexis all have learn'd to please!
More sweet the words his opening lips difclofe
Than balm ambrofial breathing from the rofe.

DELIA.

At distance fee the grove in order rise,
Where yon tall pine-tree feems to touch the fkies!
As that fair tree amid the humbler grove,

So in the battle fhines the youth I love;

His graceful form, and martial port, by far
Excel the noblest of the fons of war:

AMINTA.

With each perfection blefs'd, my charmer view, Fair as the light, and fresh as morning dew;

Soft as the feafon, as the feafon gay,

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And tuneful as the lark on yonder spray.

DELIA.

The mingled flow'rets of the fmiling year Compos'd a garland when my fwain was here; 3 M 2

He

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He plac'd the wreath around my flowing hair,
And vow'd my blushes made the rose less fair.

ΑΜΙΝΤΑ.

For dear Alexis opening rofes bloom,
For him the balmy lilies fhed perfume.

But hark! Methinks along the neighbouring grove

I hear the well-known found of him I love!

Ye Gods! 'tis he! the woods refound his lays:
And fee! in yonder verdant bower he stays!
Come, beauteous nymph! and own, my lovely fwain
Excels the fairest fhepherds on the plain:

Come, beauteous nymph! and hear the melting lay
That ftole my young unpractis'd foul away.

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S late, to fhun the noon-day's fcorching heat,
I fought in yonder grove a cool retreat;
Beneath an elm, around whofe branches twine
The fragrant woodbine, and the curling vine,
Fair Doris fat; and in a dying firain

The lovely maid accus'd her faithless swain.

Ye wavy trees! ye gently murmuring springs?
Attend! to you the wretched Doris fings:
• Oft have ye heard, but now shall hear no more,
The melting vows my perjur'd Damon fwore:
Here, while he fung, the winds forgot to blow,
• The leaves to tremble; and the streams to flow;
All nature fix'd in filent wonder stood,
And not a breathing breeze disturb'd the wood.

This elm is witness of my constant flame,
Whofe yielding rind is pierc'd with Damon's
Beneath the fhelter of it's fpreading bough
My lovely fhepherd breath'd his artful v
Here, while his trembling lips his fla
The foft infection feiz'd my pitying

How fweet with him to trace, at early dawn, • The flowery mead, or dew-befpangled lawn, • With him at noon to bait the shining hook

• Where the tall poplar trembled o'er the brook!

< Then fmil'd the grove, and fmil'd the verdant plain,
But Damon falfe, their beauties rife in vain.

Ah! cruel shepherd! tho' my tongue deny'd,
My downcaft eyes were ftill on Damon's fide.
Return, fair charmer, to thy native plains;
• Return, and bless me with thy tender strains:
For thee the meads fhall brighter liveries wear,
And ftudious Nature deck the fmiling year;
For thee the flowers a fairer bloom difclofe,
• And odours breathe more fragrant from the rofe.
Tho' wealthy Daphne larger flocks may feed,
And her's the herds that graze yon flow'ry mead,
Yet I can boast unrivall'd rural strains,

And charms that fire to love the fighing fwains:
• Can fordid gain my Damon's bosom move?
And what is wealth, alas! to faithful love?

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• Ah! cruel youth! no more my tongue denies,
And tears are all the language of my eyes.'
While fadly thus her plaintive numbers flow'd,"
And love unfeign'd each tuneful grace beftow'd,
Opprefs'd with grief fhe funk upon the plain,
Like a fair lily overcharg'd with rain': '

I rais'd the maid, and bore her from the grove,
And curs'd the shepherd who was dead to love.

HYMN TO ADVERSITY.

DA

BY MR. GRAY.

AUGHTER of Jove, relentless pow'r,
Thou tamer of the human breast,

Whofe iron fcourge, and torturing hour,
The bad affright, afflict the best!

Bound

Bound in thy adamantine chain,

The proud are taught to tafte of pain;

And purple tyrants vainly groan

With pangs unfelt before, unpitied, and alone.

When first thy fire, to fend on earth
Virtue, his darling child, defign'd,
To thee he gave the heavenly birth,

And bade to form her infant mind.
Stern, rugged nurfe! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year the bore:

What forrow was, thou bad'st her know,

And from her own fhe learn'd to melt at others' woe.

Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly
Self-pleafing Folly's idle brood,

Wild Laughter, Noife, and thoughtless Joy,

And leave us leifure to be good.

Light they difperfe, and with them go

The fummer friend, the flatt'ring foe;

By vain Profperity receiv'd,

To her they vow their truth, and are again believ’d.

Wifdom, in fable garb array'd,

Immers'd in rapturous thought profound,

And Melancholy, filent maid,

With leaden eye, that loves the ground, Still on thy folemn steps attend:

Warm Charity, the general friend,

With Juftice to herself severe,

And Pity, dropping foft the fadly-pleafing tear.

Oh! gently on thy fuppliant's head,

Dread goddefs, lay thy chaftening hand!

Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,

Nor circled with the vengeful band,

(As by the impious thou art feen)

With thundering voice, and threatening mien,

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