Pastorals Viz. The Bashful Swain: And Beauty and Simplicity. By Mr. Purney |
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| II. | SCENE II. |
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SCENE II.
The Corner of a Meadow; made by the Eden's runing into the Medway.
Soft, as a Lover's Sighs, and sweet to see,
As smiling Mouth of pretty Mey;
Their lovely Limbs the Lasses fair out-spread,
All on the softness of the Mead.
As smiling Mouth of pretty Mey;
Their lovely Limbs the Lasses fair out-spread,
All on the softness of the Mead.
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The Evening breeze (ah happy Evening breeze!)
Sweet with their honey-hair yplay's.
Breath'd on their Necks, and in their bosoms went,
I-faith I can but think upon't!
Sweet with their honey-hair yplay's.
Breath'd on their Necks, and in their bosoms went,
I-faith I can but think upon't!
As fair atween the Streams they sate, the Mey
In Soflie's lap elong did lay.
See, (quoth the little Heart) that Swan so fair!
'T has caught a Fish! will't bring it here?
See! it come's close! O pretty, do but see!
I'll lay this Flower it's fair as thee!
In Soflie's lap elong did lay.
See, (quoth the little Heart) that Swan so fair!
'T has caught a Fish! will't bring it here?
See! it come's close! O pretty, do but see!
I'll lay this Flower it's fair as thee!
She said. The while, the tender-touching Air,
Flutter'd the Florets out her Hair.
With Pancet, Perewincle, and Dew-cup,
Sweetly her Hair was braided up.
But sprinkled now around 'em lay the Flowers,
Lovely as fall of Summer Showers.
Thus on the tender bank their Limbs out-lain
The Lasses now gin chat agen.
Soflin.
Flutter'd the Florets out her Hair.
With Pancet, Perewincle, and Dew-cup,
Sweetly her Hair was braided up.
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Lovely as fall of Summer Showers.
Thus on the tender bank their Limbs out-lain
The Lasses now gin chat agen.
There, let the Kid lye quiet, Child! twill lay
All in thy Lap, ne troble thee.
So, give me now to know the Stripling's way,
And I will guess if loveth thee.
Paplet.
I have, to hide from heat, a balmie Bowr
With meney a Floret shaded 'ore.
In it's a Rose-heap, soft as Linnet's lip;
There loose I lay my Limbs to sleep.
At Eve he'll come, and call me to the Grove;
And hold me as I were his Love.
Arise my Dove! my Fair One! See the shade
Come's on; the Linnets tongue is laid!
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And smiling would by-hang the head.
There in the Moonshine by a Spring We sate:
O Me! Methought it was so sweet!
Soflin.
He love's I-Fay! Now lean upon me thus:
Thou never yet has lean'd thee thus!
Paplet.
Oh, but he once did, what I well do ween,
Can never come from loving Swain!
Early, 'ere Day gan dawn, the pert-lim'd He
Out-hi'd o're Hills and Heaths to stray.
When home he came, all-weary as I ween,
Soft-smiling ran I to the Swain.
(Sooth, Soflin! I'd not doen so now'ere,
But was so joy'd, could not forbear!)
But he, (ah harmful he!) soon as he see's,
So eager in his Arms doth squeeze,
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For why, he pull'd so hard to's Breast!
Then shov'd agen his Cheek too (more the moan!)
My Lip, that sooth I well'y swoon!
Did'st 'ere know like a-fore? Now well I ween
I ne're knew like! what might he mean?
Soflin.
Hard is to say; in sooth I well'y weet,
There be but little Love, my Sweet!
But would he come to see but once a-day?
A Lover live's by Sight, they say.
Paplet.
Oftner. With Sweet-breer Roses soft, a Shade
Anear his Cote for Me he made.
My Hand a-tween his Hands he'd tender take,
And lead Me to the gentle Brake.
Daintily ran, ne rattled a-whitt,
Abie, a little Rivulett.
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He! He! 'Twas pretty, by my Fay!
He'd sprinkle Violets in my Bosom then;
But I made pick 'em out agen!
Soflin.
Thou never had'st, I ween, my Gentle Lass,
Mishap might make him love the less?
Paplet.
Alas! such hap I had (ah Wo-away!)
I'll tell the Tale at length to thee.
I'll tell the Tale at length to thee.
Once came he, (in a Dale I lay elong)
As lith he came as Linnet's tongue.
One Holy-Eve, I well remember, 'twas;
Wo't go to th' Grove, quoth he, my Lass?
As lith he came as Linnet's tongue.
One Holy-Eve, I well remember, 'twas;
Wo't go to th' Grove, quoth he, my Lass?
The Stripling deckt in Silkie Green all 'ore,
As sweet as May or Bird in Bowr,
Prickt on by Youth and prime of Lustihed,
A-thwart the Hills and Heaths ystray'd.
The Quicks, up-springing, leap't he with his Spear;
Flying his Vest, his Bosom bare.
As sweet as May or Bird in Bowr,
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A-thwart the Hills and Heaths ystray'd.
The Quicks, up-springing, leap't he with his Spear;
Flying his Vest, his Bosom bare.
With him I went (ah with him why went I?)
For oh, the rest I shame to say!
Strait, as we chac'd the limber-leged Hare,
A-mid the Brambles of a Breer,
I, heedless, one Leg hamper'd, that my Cloaths
(O sad to say!) 'bove Foot arose.
The Swain my Stockin hid; then loos'd my Shoe.
Had but two Kisses; ask'd but two!
For oh, the rest I shame to say!
Strait, as we chac'd the limber-leged Hare,
A-mid the Brambles of a Breer,
I, heedless, one Leg hamper'd, that my Cloaths
(O sad to say!) 'bove Foot arose.
The Swain my Stockin hid; then loos'd my Shoe.
Had but two Kisses; ask'd but two!
Soflin.
Hard hap, my gentle Lass, I have to hear!
Yet small to make him leave his Dear.
Don't taken that best Flow'r, my pretty Pap!
And I'll tell what to me did hap.
Yet small to make him leave his Dear.
Don't taken that best Flow'r, my pretty Pap!
And I'll tell what to me did hap.
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Once lay my Love, I faith! as lovely lay,
As Fawn soft licking it on Lea.
Fresh breezes o're his tender Features stale,
For oh, 'twas in a flowerie Vale!
I had been hunting, and by hap came by,
With Bow and Quiver, where he lay.
The Flowers of the Vale I cropt anigh,
And soft ysprinkled on the Boy;
When oh, he wak'd (small weeting as I was)
He wak'd to see his blushing Lass.
But still he lov'd me; lov'd me, Paplet, yet!
And still thy Lad doth Love I weet.
Then say me now the Swain, my gentle Mey
If be he lov'd, thou was't to say.
As Fawn soft licking it on Lea.
Fresh breezes o're his tender Features stale,
For oh, 'twas in a flowerie Vale!
I had been hunting, and by hap came by,
With Bow and Quiver, where he lay.
The Flowers of the Vale I cropt anigh,
And soft ysprinkled on the Boy;
When oh, he wak'd (small weeting as I was)
He wak'd to see his blushing Lass.
But still he lov'd me; lov'd me, Paplet, yet!
And still thy Lad doth Love I weet.
Then say me now the Swain, my gentle Mey
If be he lov'd, thou was't to say.
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Oft did the gentle Paplet raise her head,
To tell; as oft, asham'd and 'fraid,
Drop'd it agen on Soflies bosom low;
And call'd her, softly call'd her, Foe!
To tell; as oft, asham'd and 'fraid,
Drop'd it agen on Soflies bosom low;
And call'd her, softly call'd her, Foe!
Then Soflin, (taking her in tender Arms)
Sure thou may'st tell a Friend thy harms!
Paplet there turn'd her head, to cough, as feign'd,
But blush'd in sooth, at Name of Friend.
Not yet did Soflie leave, but askt agen;
When she, (with head in bosom lain)
O! did I Soflin hate, and Soflin Me,
One had been happy as the Day!
Sure thou may'st tell a Friend thy harms!
Paplet there turn'd her head, to cough, as feign'd,
But blush'd in sooth, at Name of Friend.
Not yet did Soflie leave, but askt agen;
When she, (with head in bosom lain)
O! did I Soflin hate, and Soflin Me,
One had been happy as the Day!
Thus far the Lass not ween'd what meant the Mey;
Tho' sooth it easy was to see!
Where now's the free, the pretty Way where now,
Pap ever us'd to Soflie show?
Tho' sooth it easy was to see!
Where now's the free, the pretty Way where now,
Pap ever us'd to Soflie show?
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Rarely she call'd her, Dear; and when she did,
It came at unawares, you'd said.
And if she graspt her hand, All-faint it was;
While blushes bore she in her face.
Then Soflie askt what Age he had, what Face?
He's like to Colly cry'd the Lass.
So as she said, the Tears soft-showering fell;
I-sooth! it make's me cry to tell!
It came at unawares, you'd said.
And if she graspt her hand, All-faint it was;
While blushes bore she in her face.
Then Soflie askt what Age he had, what Face?
He's like to Colly cry'd the Lass.
So as she said, the Tears soft-showering fell;
I-sooth! it make's me cry to tell!
But Soflie now more eager grew to know,
Her Hand she seiz'd, Ne would let go.
The Swain, (quoth Pap,) that love's with me to dally,
The Swain is, for his Name 'tis, Colly.
Her Hand she seiz'd, Ne would let go.
The Swain, (quoth Pap,) that love's with me to dally,
The Swain is, for his Name 'tis, Colly.
She said. That instant, as she said,
Colly came triping 'ore the Mead.
Leapt he, and floited, Jolly as the Day;
His Way it was (oh merry Way!)
His Eye he cast where soft these sitting were;
O Me! why sure my Paplet's there!
Soon as the pert-Eye Lasses saw the Swain
Trip to 'em ore the rosie Plain;
They fled away, as flitt as any Roe;
He! He! cry'd he, What's matter now?
Their fluttering Hair, and Vests yblown with Breeze,
Soft scatter Sweets emong the Trees.
All Way their rosie-plaited Locks the Ground
Sprinkled with Flow'rs that flew around.
But sure, had you but Paplet seen! sweet Fon,
'Twas cast; but oh, how't scrabbled on!
Colly came triping 'ore the Mead.
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His Way it was (oh merry Way!)
His Eye he cast where soft these sitting were;
O Me! why sure my Paplet's there!
Soon as the pert-Eye Lasses saw the Swain
Trip to 'em ore the rosie Plain;
They fled away, as flitt as any Roe;
He! He! cry'd he, What's matter now?
Their fluttering Hair, and Vests yblown with Breeze,
Soft scatter Sweets emong the Trees.
All Way their rosie-plaited Locks the Ground
Sprinkled with Flow'rs that flew around.
But sure, had you but Paplet seen! sweet Fon,
'Twas cast; but oh, how't scrabbled on!
Strait, they a little Streamulet came to;
Soflie leapt o're like airy Roe.
But what must now the little-legged Lass!
It yearning stand's; how should it pass?
Soflie leapt o're like airy Roe.
But what must now the little-legged Lass!
It yearning stand's; how should it pass?
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All thro' the rosie Breers, poor heart, ran she;
All thro' the rosie Breers sped he.
At length, alas, he caught her Air-drove Vest;
For she, poor Fon, was alway last.
Much while it was, at length, howere, he made
The Mey to sit in th' gloomie Glade.
But she'd not come anear, Ne see, Ne touch,
And yet she lov'd, she lov'd him much.
All thro' the rosie Breers sped he.
At length, alas, he caught her Air-drove Vest;
For she, poor Fon, was alway last.
Much while it was, at length, howere, he made
The Mey to sit in th' gloomie Glade.
But she'd not come anear, Ne see, Ne touch,
And yet she lov'd, she lov'd him much.
Yet haply if her Eye did meet her Coll,
She could not help but to him fall.
Quick tho' recover'd her agen. Thus strove
She 'tween her Friendship and her Love!
If be he touch'd her hand, away she'd throw;
Yet Sigh'd, the while, that must do so.
She could not help but to him fall.
Quick tho' recover'd her agen. Thus strove
She 'tween her Friendship and her Love!
If be he touch'd her hand, away she'd throw;
Yet Sigh'd, the while, that must do so.
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