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Sweet stream, he cry'd sadly, I'll teach thee to flow,

Ah willow, &c.
And the waters shall rise to the brink with my woe.

Ah willow, &c.

All restless and painful poor Amoret lies,

Ah willow, &c.
And counts the sad moments of time as it flies :

Ah willow, &c.

To the nymph, my heart loves, ye soft slumbers repair ;

Ah willow, &c.
Spread your downy wings o'er her, and make her your care,

Ah willow, &c.
Dear brook, were thy chance near her pillow to creep,

Ah willow, &c.
Perhaps thy soft murmurs might lull her to fcep.

Ah willow, &c.
Let me be kept waking, my eyes never close,

Ah willow, &c.
So the sleep that I lose brings my fair one repose.

Ah willow, &c.

But if I am doom'd to be wretched indeed ;

Ah willow, &c.
And the loss of my dear-one, my love, is decreed ;

Ah willow, &c.
If no more my fad heart by those eyes shall be chear'd;

Ah willow, &c.
If the voice of my warbler no more shall be heard ;
Ah willow, &c.


E 3

Believe me, thou fair one; thou dear one, believe,

Ah willow, &c.
Few fighs to thy loss, and few tears will I give.

Ah willow, &c.

One fate to thy Colin and thee shall betide,

Ah willow, &c. And foon lay thy shepherd down by thy cold side.

Ah willow, &c.

Then glide, gentle brook, and to lose thyself haste;

Ah willow, willow.
Fade thou too my willow ; this verse is

Ah willow, willow ; ah willow, willow.

last :




OW gentle was my Damons air !

Like sunny beams his golden hair,
His voice was like the nightingales,
More sweet his breath than flowery vales.
How hard such beauties to resign!
And yet that cruel talk is mine.

* In the masque of Comus,


On every hill, in every grove,

Along the margin of each stream,
Dear conscious scenes of former love,

I mourn, and Damon is my theme.
The hills, the groves, the streams remain,
But Damon there I seek in vain.

Now to the mossy cave I fly,

Where to my swain I oft have sung, Well pleas'd the browsing goats to spy,

As o'er the airy steep they hung. The mossy cave, the goats remain, But Damon there I seek in vain.

Now through the winding vale I pass,

And figh to see the well known shade; I weep and kiss the bended grass,

Where love and Damon fondly play'd. The vale, the shade, the grass remain, But Damon there I seek in vain.

From hill, from dale, each charm is fled,

Groves, flocks, and fountains please no more, Each flower in pity droops its head,

All nature does my loss deplore. All, all reproach the faithless swain, Yet Damon still I seek in vain.

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Whose flocks never carelessly roam ;
Should Corydons happen to stray,
Oh! call the

poor wanderers home.
Allow me to muse and to figh,

Nor talk of the change that ye find;
None once was so watchful as I;

I have left my dear Phyllis behind.

Now I know what it is to have strove

With the torture of doubt and desire;
What it is, to admire and to love,

And to leave her we love and admire.
Ah lead forth my flock in the morn,

And the damps of each evening repel;
Alas! I am faint and forlorn :

-I have bade my dear Phyllis farewell.

Since Phyllis vouchsaf'd me a look,

I never once dreamt of my vine;
May I lose both my pipe and my crook,

If a knew of a kid that was mine.

I priz'd

I priz'd every hour that went by,

Beyond : Il that had pleas'd me before; But now they are past, and I sigh ;

And I grieve that I priz'd them no more.

But why do I languish in vain ?

Why wander thus penfively here? Oh! why did I come from the plain, Where I fed on the smiles of


dear? They tell me, my favourite maid,

The pride of that valley, is flown; Alas! where with her I have stray’d,

I could wander with pleasure, alone.

When forc'd the fair nymph to forego,

What anguish I felt at my heart!
Yet I thought -- but it might not be fo-

'Twas with pain that she saw me depart. She gaz'd, as I slowly withdrew;

My path I could hardly discern; So sweetly she bade me adieu,

I thought that she bade me return.

The pilgrim that journeys all day,

To vifit fome far-distant fhrine, If he bear but a relique away,

Is happy, nor heard to repine. Thus widely remov'd from the fair,

Where my vows, my devotion, I owe, Soft hope is the relique I bear,

And my solace whereever I go.


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