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A Pastoral.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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183

A Pastoral.

'Twas when the pearly Wings of Rosy Light,
Had chac'd the melancholy Shades of Night;
Each blushing Shrub with glitt'ring Diamonds gleam'd,
Each Field a Firmament of Spangles seem'd.
Refreshing Breezes wav'd the verdant Woods,
And fann'd the panting Bosom of the Floods:
Each Swain arose refresh'd with downy Sleep,
And pipe'd, and whistled to his frisking Sheep.
But sad Sireno no Delights could move,
Wild were his Thoughts with late neglected Love.
For him each Virgin sigh'd, but sigh'd in vain,
Whilst lovely Laura show'd unjust Disdain.
On ev'ry neighb'ring Tree he carv'd her Name,
And with the living Letters grew his Flame.

184

To her the Firstlings of his Flock he brought,
For her the earliest Greens and Flowers he sought.
But all in vain—the lovely cruel Fair
As unrelenting as his barren Care.
No downy Slumbers lull'd his Soul to rest,
Sleep fled his Eyes, as Quiet did his Breast:
If some faint Slumber o'er his Temples crept,
Yet wakeful Love eternal Vigils kept.
In fancy'd Dreams he'd catch the lovely Maid,
But waking, curse the visionary Shade.