To William Churne of Staffordshire, Give laud and praises due, $126. Unfading Beauty. This little beautiful Sonnet is reprinted from a small volume of "Poems by THOMAS CAREW, Twas then, by the care of the mountain reco He thought as a sage, tho' he felt as a n woe, Why thus, lonely Philomel, flows in For spring shall return, and a lover be And thy bosom no trace of misfortunes Yet, if Pity inspire thee, O cease not ti Mourn, sweetest companion! m thee to mourn: “Esq. one of the gentlemen of the privie-cham-O In the original follows a third stanza, which, not HEE that loves a rosie cheeke, Kindle never-dying fires; $127. Song. The Shy-Lark. SHENSTONE. Daphne's window speed thy way; And if she praise thy matin song, The bird from Indian groves may shine; And all his flaunting race with scorn; sooth him whose pleasures, like the Full quickly they pass-but they ' turn! Now gliding remote on the verge of th ' plays ; But lately I mark'd, when majestic c blaze. Roll on then, fair orb, and with glad again: But man's faded glory no change sha” - ⚫ for you; For morn is approaching, your cham • Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and: ' with dew. Nor yet for the ravage of winter I = 'Kind Nature the embrio-blossomst 'But when shall spring visit the moulte O when shall it dawn on the ni: grave?' $129. A Pastoral Ballad. In For SHEL I. ABSENCE. YE shepherds so cheerful and gay, Whose flocks never careles y te Should Corydon's happen to stray, O call the poor wanderers home. Allow me to muse and to sigh, Nor talk of the change that ye fad. None, once, was so watchful as 1: -I have left my dear Phillis behin Now I know what it is to have stron With the torture of doubt and des What it is to admire and to love, And to leave her we love and adu -I have bade my dear Phillis faret riz'd every hour thar went by, . Beyond all that had pleas'd me before; it now they are pass'd, and I sigh, And I grieve that I priz'd them no more. t why do I languish in vain? Why wander thus pensively here? why did I come from the plain, Where I fed on the smiles of my dear? ey tell me, my favourite maid, The pride of that valley is flown! s! where with her I have stray'd, could wander with pleasure, alone. en forc'd the fair nymph to forego, What anguish I felt at my heart! I thought-but it might not be sowas with pain that she saw me depart. gaz'd, as I slowly withdrew; ly path I could hardly discern; weetly she bade me adieu, thought that she bade me return. pilgrim that journies all day visit some far distant shrine, : bear but a relique away happy, nor heard to repine. 5, widely remov'd from the fair, here my vows, my devotion, I owe, Hope is the relique I bear, id my solace wherever I go. 11. НОРЕ. banks they are furnish'd with bees, hose murmur invites one to sleep; grottes are shaded with trees, id my hills are white over with sheep. fom have met with a loss, tch health do my fountains bestow; fountains, all border'd with moss, here the hare-bells and violets grow. a pine in my grove is there seen, t with tendrils of woodbine is bound; a beech's more beautiful green, it a sweet-brier twines it around. my fields in the prime of the year ore charms than my cattle unfold : a brook that is limpid and clear, at it glitters with fishes of gold. would think she might like to retire > the bow'r I have labour'd to rear; a shrub that I heard her admire, it I hasted and planted it there. w sudden the jessamine strove ith the lilac to render it gay! ady it calls for my love, › prune the wild branches away. the plains, from the woodlands, groves, bat strains of wild melody flow! -the nightingales warbie their loves -om thickets of roses that blow ! when her bright form shall appear, ach bird shall harmoniously join concert so soft and so clear, sshe may not be fond to resign. and! I have found out a gift for my fair, I have found where the wood-pigeons breed; But let me that plunder forbear, She will say 'twas a barbarous deed. And she call'd it the sister of love. Unmov'd, when her Corydon sighs? Soft scenes of contentment and ease! And where are her grots and her bowers? And the face of the vallies as fine; III. SOLICITUDE. Come and join in my amorous lays! That will sing but a song in her praise. When he sings, may the tymphs of the town Come trooping, and listen the while; Nay, on him let not Phillida frown; -But I cannot allow her to smile. Fer when Paridel tries in the dance Any favour with Phillis to find, O how, with one trivial glance, Might she ruin the peace of my mind! In ringiets he dresses his hair, And his crook is bestudded around; And his pipe may Phillis beware Of a magic there is in the sound! Tis his with mock passion to glow; 'Tis his in smooth tales to unfold, "How her face is as bright as the snow, "And her bosom, be sure, is as cold; 3P2 How "How the nightingales labour the strain, O Phillis," he whispers, "more fair, "More sweet than the jessamine's flow'r! "What are pinks, in a morn, to compare? "What is eglantine after a shower? "Then the lily no longer is white; "Then the rose is depriv'd of its bloom; "Then the violets die with despite, "And the woodbines give up their perfume." Thus glide the soft numbers along, And he fancies no shepherd his peer; Were not Phillis to lend it an ear. Or sure I must envy the song. IV. DISAPPOINTMENT. She was fair-and my passion begun; Perhaps it was plain to foresee, It banishes wisdom the while; Ye that witness the woes I endure, What it cannot instruct 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 repose? Yet time may diminish the paini: The flow'r, and the shrub, and the tree, Which I rear'd for her pleasure, in vain, In time may have comtort for me. The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose, The sound of a murmuring stream, The peace which from solitude flows, Henceforth shall be Corydon's themt. 'As I with my Phillis had known. With the same sad complaint it begar $130. Phabe. A Pastoral. B My time, O ye Muses! was hapnil When Phoebe went with me w went: Ten thousand soft pleasures I felt in m The fountain that wont to run swe My dog, I was ever well pleased t Come wagging his tail to my fair one And Phoebe was pleas'd too, and to my Come hither, poor fellow!" andhead: But now, when he's fawning, I,withes And I'll give him another; for why s Be dull as his master, when Phabe Sweet music went with us both 2: thro', The lark, linnet, throstle, and night Will no pitying power that hears m Or cure my disquiet, or soften my pai To be cur'd, thou must, Colin, thy pa But what swain is so silly to live with Deity, bid the dear nymph to return; § 181. A Pastoral Ballad. Rowe. c could dote on so lowly a clown, kind and so constant would prove; it though I have skill to complain, orbear to accuse the false maid. thro' the wide world I should range, is in vain from my fortune to fly; as hers to be false, and to change; is mine to be constant--and die. while my hard fate I sustain, 1 her breast any pity is found; her come, with the nymphs of the plain, nd see me laid low in the ground: list humble boon that I crave , to shade me with cypress and yew; 1, when she looks down on my grave, et her own that her shepherd was true. n to her new love let her go, and duck her in golden array; finest at ev'ry fine show, and frolic it all the long day: ite Colin, forgotten and gone, No more shall be talk'd of or seen, Tess when, beneath the pale moon, flis ghost shall glide over the green. 'N Britain's isle, and Arthur's days, His mountain back mote well be said Yet, spite of a'l that Nature did His heart was drear, his hope was cross'd, That reach'd the neighbour town: And drops his limbs adown. A trembling rocks the ground: On all the walls around. Come prankling o'er the place. Or half so rich, before; With awful accent cried: At this the swain, whose vent'rous soil Advanc'd in open sight; Nor have I cause of dread," he said, Twas grief, for scorn of faithful love, 3 P3 "Tis "Tis well," the zallant cries again, Who dare to tell as true. To make thee grief resta Now take the pleasure of tay charnce; Be little Mable tuite.” He spoke, and, all a sudden, there The Monarch leads the Queen: As heart and lip desire: Has bent him up aloof; From thence," Reverse my charm," he cries, "And let it fair now suffice The gambo. has been shown.” But Oberon answers, with a smile, "Cortent thee, Edwin, for a while, The vantage is thine own.-- Per Edwin falls to floor: Thro' all the land before! He feels his back the less; Which made him want success: The story told, Sir Topaz mov'd, Tay cause to come we know: Now has thy kestrell courage fol; And fairies, since a lye you tell, Are free to work thee woe." Then Wai, who bears the wispy fire To trail the swains among the mire, The captive upward fiung: There, like a tortoise in a shop, He denied from the chamber top, Where walom Edwin hung. The revel now proceeds apace, Deftly they irisk it o'er the place, They sit, they drink, nd eat; The time with feic mirch begutie. And poor Sir Topaz bangs the wild, Tal all the rout retreat. By this the stars began to wirk, They shriek, they fly, the tapers N, And down rope ile kabu For never spell by fairie laid With strong enchantment bend a g-" Beyond the length of right. Chill, dars, alone, adrced he lay, Till up the welkin rose the day, Then deem'd the dele was o't: But wot ye well his harder lot: His seely back the bunch had got Which Edwin lost afore. This tale a Sybil nurse ared; She softly stroak'd my youngling hea And, when the tale was dure: "Thus some are born, my son," she? With base impediments, to rise; And some are born with noce. But virtue can itself advance To what the fav'rite fools of chance By fortune scem'd design'd; Virtue can gain the odds of fate, And from itself shake off the weight Upon the unworthy mind.” |