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THE CUCKOO. HAIL, beaut'ous ftranger of the grove !
Thou messenger of spring!
And woods tħy welcome sing.
Thy certain voice we hear;
Or mark the rolling year?
I hail the time of flow'rs,
From birds among the bow'rs.
To pull the primrose gay,
And imitates thy lay.
Thou fly'st thy vocal vale,
Another spring to hail.
Thy sky is ever clear;
NO WINTER in thy year!
We'd make, with joyful wing,
Companions of the SPRING.
THE RURAL DIALOGUE. MY pretty maids, so blithe and gay,
“With crook and fcrip, whence come you,
"We come, fir, from the neighb’ring hill, • Close by the fount of this clear rill.
There, in a little tuft of green, « Our father's straw-roof'd cot is seen, • Beneath that dear, tho' narrow, shed, < We, filters all, were born and bred. « Our busʼness is to tend our flocks, • In yonder vale o'erhung with rocks; < When fed, we drive them home at eve; • So now, kind fir! we take our leave.' « O what must be the favour'd place, «« That yields such charms and native grace, “ As rustic weeds no more can fhrowd “ Than noon-day's sun, an envious cloud ! “ Love's genuine progeny you feem, “ From each fair face such pleasures beam. “ Well might it grieve your beauties rare “ To waste themielves on defert air, “ When courts and cities would delight “ To give them to the public fight! “ But tell me, do you feel content, “ Within these lonely regions pent?" • More true content within us dwells, • While roving in the flow'ry dells, • Than fills the breasts of ladies great, • While dancing in the rooms of state. • No wealth we want, or fine array; • Flow’rs are enough to make us gay.'
THE BITER BIT.
Certain PRIEST had hoarded up,
A secret mass of GOLD;
By fancy was not told.
To lock it in a cheft,
Thereon, Hic Deus eft.
A merry grigg, whofe greedy mind,
Long with'd for such a prey,
That on the casket lay.
The PRIEST's inscript thereon,
" 'Your god is rose and gone.”
THE TEARS OF AMYNTA. ON a bank, beside a willow,
Heav'n her cov’ring, earth her pillow, Sad AMYNTA figh'd alone: From the cheerless dawn of morning Till the dews of night returning, Sighing thus she made her moan:
Hope is banish'd,
Joys are vanish’d, DAMon, my belov’d, is gone! Time I dare thee to discover Such a youth, and such a lover; Oh! so true, so kind was he! Damon was the pride of nature, Charming in his ev'ry feature; Damon liv'd alone for me;
Death, come end me,
To befriend me;
The little god I found;
And fast his pinions bound.
My conqueft proud to shew;
And smil'd to see him fo.
Of arms resistless gave!
And fall again his llave.
CUPID AND HIS TUTOR. SLUMB’RING beneath the shade I lay,
Opprest by Sol's meridian ray, When to my eyes, in vision bright, Appear'd the queen of soft delight; Young Cupid in her hand she led, Who bashful hung his little head: “ Here, gentle swain!” the goddess cry'd, “ My boy's maturer studies guide; “ Teach him to strike the founding lyre, “ And love of sacred bards inspire. She said:--with awe I took the child, And, by his modeft looks beguild, Began to read with aspect fage, My lecture on great HOMER's page, Explain’d the THEBAN's devious line, And dwelt on MARO's verse divine. The giddy boy with light regard Run o’er each grave majestic bard, And said he would my pains repay By teaching me his fav’rite lay. Then careless sung of loves and smiles, His wanton pranks, his mother's wiles,
Of mortal and immortal flames,
SEPARATION. SWEET beaut’ous fair, tho’ from thee torn,
Do thou inspire my lay:
I lose the peaceful day.
Or rang’d the woodland wilds along, How oft on MINEHEAD's mountain's high, We've met the morning's purple eye,
Cheer'd by the wood-lark's song? From these delights by fortune led,
To busy life and sea confin’d:
And HAPPINESS was left behind.
Thy polish'd brow, thy piercing eye,
Sweet maid! with thee I'd live and die, Ah! where is now each image gay,
The hand which fairy-fancy wove, Of painted spring's elysian day,
When mutual happiness we'd prove? Ceafe, cruel mem’ry! recal no more Those scenes which lost, I now deplore;
Thou only mak'st a wretch to know, While from his charming SALLY's fide; Eternal grief and pain betide,
A heart replete with care and woe.