Nor need We, in this clofe Retirement, fear,
Left any Swain our am'rous Secrets hear.
SILVIA.

To ev'ry Shepherd I would Mine proclaim ;
Since fair AMINT A is my foftest Theme:
A Stranger to the loofe Delights of Love,

My Thoughts the nobler Warmth of Friendship prove:
And, while it's pure and facred Fire I fing,

Chaft Goddess of the Groves, Thy Succour bring.
AMARYLLIS

Propitious God of Love, my Breast inspire
With all Thy Charms, with all Thy pleasing Fire:
Propitious God of Love, Thy Succour bring;
Whilft I Thy Darling, Thy ALEXIS fing.
ALEXIS, as the ope'ning Bloffoms fair,
Lovely as Light, and foft as yielding Air.
For Him each Virgin fighs; and on the Plains
The happy Youth above each Rival reigns.
Nor to the Ecchoing Groves, and whisp'ring Spring,
In fweeter Strains does artful CONON fing;
When loud Applaufes fill the crowded Groves;
And PHOEBUS the fuperior Song approves.
A SILVIA

Beauteous A MINTA is as early Light,
Breaking the melancholy Shades of Night.

When She is near, all anxious Trouble flies;

And our reviving Hearts confefs her Eyes.

Young Love, and blooming Joy, and gay Defires}} ? In ev'ry Breast the beauteous Nympha infpires:

And

on

on feveral

And on the Plain when She no more appears;
The Plain a dark and gloomy Prospect wears.
In vain the Streams roll on: the Eastern Breeze
Dances in vain among the trembling Trees:
In vain the Birds begin their Ev'ning Song,
And to the filent Night their Notes prolong:
Nor Groves, nor chryftal Streams, nor verdant Field
Does wonted Pleasure in Her Abfence yield.

AMARYLLIS

And in His Abfence, all the pensive Day,
In fome obfcure Retreat I lonely ftray;
All Day to the repeating Caves complain,
In mournful Accents, and a dying Strain.
Dear lovely Youth, I cry to all around:

Dear lovely Youth, the flattering Vales refound.
SILVIA.

On flow'ry Banks, by ev'ry murm'ring Stream,
AMINTA is my Mufe's fofteft Theme:

'Tis She that does my artful Notes refine:

With fair AMINTA's Name my noblest Verse shall shine. AMARYLLIS

I'll twine fresh Garlands for ALEXIS' Brows.

And confecrate to Him eternal Vows:

The charming Youth fhall my APOLLO prove:

He shall adorn my Songs, and tune my Voice to Love.

TO THE

AUTHOR

OF THE

Foregoing PASTORAL.

BY SILVIA if thy charming Self be meant;

If Friendship be thy Virgin Vows Extent; O! let me in AMINTA'S Praises join: Her's my Esteem fhall be, my Passion Thine. When for Thy Head the Garland I prepare ; A fecond Wreath fhall bind AMINTA'S Hair: And when my choiceft Songs Thy Worth proclaim ; Alternate Verfe fhall blefs AMINTA'S Name: My Heart fhall own the Juftice of Her Caufe ; And Love himself submit to Friendship's Laws.

But, if beneath thy Numbers foft Disguise,
Some favour'd Swain, fome true ALEXIS lyes;
If AMARYLLIS breaths thy fecret Pains;

And thy fond Heart beats Measure to thy Strains:
May'st thou, howe'er I grieve, for ever find
The Flame propitious, and the Lover kind:
May VENUS long exert her happy Pow'r,
And make thy Beauty, like thy Verfe, endure:
May ev'ry God his friendly Aid afford;

PAN guard thy Flock, and CERES blefs thy Board.

But,

But, if by chance the Series of thy Joys Permit one Thought lefs chearful to arise; Piteous transfer it to the mournful Swain, Who loving much, who not belov'd again, Feels an ill-fated Paffion's last Excefs;

And dies in Woe, that Thou may'ft live in Peace.

To a L

ADY:

She refufing to continue a DISPUTE with me, and leaving me in the ARGUMENT.

An O D E.

I.

SPARE, Gen'rous Victor, spare the Slave,
Who did unequal War pursue ;

That more than Triumph He might have,
In being overcome by You.

II.

In the Dispute whate'er I said,

My Heart was by my Tongue bely'd; And in my Looks You might have read, How much I argu'd on your fide.

III.

You, far from Danger as from Fear,
Might have fuftain'd an open Fight:
For feldom your Opinions err;
Your Eyes are always in the right.

IV. Why,

IV.

Why, fair One, wou'd You not rely

On Reason's Force with Beauty's join'd? Cou'd I their Prevalence deny,

I must at once be Deaf and Blind.

V.

Alas! not hoping to fubdue,
I only to the Fight aspir'd:
To keep the beauteous Foe in view
Was all the Glory I defir'd.

VI.

But She, howe'er of Vict'ry fure,

Contemns the Wreath too long delay'd; And, arm'd with more immediate Pow'r, Calls cruel Silence to her Aid.

VII.

Deeper to wound, She fhuns the Fight:

She drops her Arms, to gain the Field: Secures her Conqueft by her Flight ;

And triumphs, when She seems to yield.
VIII.

So when the PARTHIAN turn'd his Steed,
And from the Hoftile Camp withdrew ;
With cruel Skill the backward Reed

He fent; and as He fled, He flew.