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Pastorals

After the Simple Manner of Theocritus. By Mr. Purney

Purney, Thomas (1695-ca. 1727)

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Παντα Εαρ, παντα δε Νομοι, παντα δε γαλακτες
Ουθατα πληθουσιν, και τα Νεα τρεφεται.

Theoc.

PAPLET: OR, Love and Innocence

PASTORAL the I.

ARGUMENT.

Cubbin, the Writer so call'd, was acquainted with Paplet and Soflin. All Young was Paplet and ignorant of Love; Soflin more experienc'd, but equally tender and innocent. The first eager to be let into the Nature and Manner of Lovers and the other Sex; The other of a Temper particularly free and inclining. These, as Cubbin was inform'd, were at Evening gone out to a Bush of a sweet and pleasant Scituation, to tattle of Love, and of Collikin Soflin's Lover. In pain is Cubbin, least the gentle Paplet should fall in Love with him too, and goes forth to skulk near the Bush to hear if it indeed was so. There does the latter part of their Discourse, which alone he hears, confirm the hear-say. When the gloom of Night draws on, they go to bath and cool'em in Eden Brook. There is Paplet solitary and musing; and thence, ignorant

of her Ail, returns alone, by Moonshine to the Bush: For there Collikin, that Morn, had loll'd with his Love. Cubbin soon discovers her uneasiness; forsakes his Covert to attempt her relief; But endeavouring to divert her thoughts from Collikin, is chid from her sight. So being averse to her Cure, she falls intirely in Love.

The time, in this Piece, is from Noon to Night; The Season Summer; and the Scene on the Banks of the Brook Eden; which runs out of the Medway, some Miles West of Tunbridge in Kent.

ΦΕΙΔΕΟ τας θηρας, τοδε μηδ'ες τωρνεον ερχευ.

Bion. 2.

A gentle Swain yfed in Kentish Mead,
The gentlest Swain that ever Flock did feed.
Soft he beside the Stream of Eden lay,
And graz'd abie the Banks of fair Medway.

Up with the Morn, as lith as Lark, he'd rise;
And Cubbin he, so said him Shepherd Boys.

a, and y (pronounc'd as e) before Words, and en, et and ie, after, are for softness of sound.

So as he sate, with Lass or toys the Youth;
Or soft he sooth's, for foft can Cubbin sooth.
There sweetly oped each Flower the little Lip,
Fresh Honey-dew and Evening Air to sip.

Cade. Or, Cade-Lamb. Lea. Or, Green.

Was, when his Cade he'd kiss, and pretty play:
Or bath in Brook, then roll on tender Lea.

Sooth! would too Rhimes go make as loose he lay,
(Though God-wot, to make Rhimes small Wit had he.)
And wont out-scrawl and print 'em on the Sand,
All as he lay along with Crook in Hand.

Poor Pen, you'll say:—Ay and poor Poet too!
But 'lack, must do what Heaven will have Us do.

Yet happy he, in time, found means to mark
His witless Tattle on a Maple's Bark.
But ah, how should he, poor Boy, 'ere find out,
Lines near enough to deck his Tree about.
Forc'd was he Swains o'rehear behind some balk,
Then on his Tree go print the tender Talk.
Late he abie a Place of Pleasure lay,
All fairly deckt in Sweets of fairest May.
Where silkie Thighs in Dew Grass-hoppers bath'd;
And merry cherruping, so rosie breath'd.
Ye Surrey Swains! and Surrey Swains have bliss;
I dare Ye show so soft a Shade as this!
Atween the dewie Leaves as Air was blown,
The dewie Leaves yquivered every one.

The why he came here was all for two Maids,
He thought, were chatting nigh, of Love and Lads.
He came the one to warn, that Youngling-breast
The less did know of Love, did love the less.
Pity'd her the soft Swain: to warn he strove,
Lest the young Heart might hap to fall in love.
Foreby him sate these Maids in loose Array,
As fair and fresh as Summer Eve might see.
Sweet gay-green Flowers, so pretty put anear,
The Pink and Pancet pretty put anear.
Soflin and Paplet they; (ah dainty They!)
That ripe as Rose, this a soft-aged Mey.

Both lith as Youngling Roe, all-tender too
As Ladybird that lives on twinkling Dew.

A soft-aged Mey. or Mai; the d left out; is here used for one younger than we commonly mean by the Word Maid, suppose a Lass of 13 or 14 Years old. Tho' Chaucer uses it indifferently, as it has not the vulgarness of Maid, and is of a sound particularly sweet and simple.

Paplet , a Christian's and a Jewes's Child,
Scarce five Year old, was laid, to starve in Field;
For that the Babe they could no longer hide:
But all by hap an anciant Sire it spy'd;
Just starving; for the tender Teeth been broak;
As twould crack Nutt: It smiled when up he took;
Oh sweet my Father reach that bough of Hips!
What must I do, ah how I've scratch'd my Lips!
He tookt to's Cave; and pull'd the Thorns all out
Her pretty Feet; they bled with walk about.
There brought her up with Florey, fresh his Son,
Who hunts wild Beasts, 'tis what they live epon.

Now sick if Sire or Son, she moans him meet,
Soft tend's, with cheary Chat, and soothing sweet

Paplet, a Christian's, &c. She would have discover'd their Marriage, and occasion'd the Jewes's Death by their Laws.

These gentle Hearts small thought were Cubbin lay;
In sooth some halfendeal undeckt they be.
Honey-lip Gales soft breathed on their Hair,
Waved their Cloaths, and did their Bosoms bare.
And well Iwis, as bare their bosoms, all
The Flowerets out that decked 'em did fall.

And well Iwis, &c. The Words, Wis, Weet, and Ween, all signify to think or imagin.

A Willow on the bank upheld their Heads,
(Oh happy Tree, to hold such lovely Maids!)
A soothing shade the rosie Sweetbreer gave;

i.e. The Nightingale

Where sang the Bird that sings so soft at Eve.

Believe Me now, thus show'd they; by my fay
As lovely show'd, as Lilly on the Lea!
But sure that Paplet was the tend'rest Lass!
Well ween I Cubbin lay at little Ease.
So soft she seem'd! By Heav'n seem'd more than soft!
Her Lip to touch he wish'd him, O how oft!
Now soothly Paplet was the tend'rest Mey!
Ah God! I small ween'd could so tender be!
Some-deal her Paps been pufft, that sooth might seem
The Little Life now just of Love gan dream.
Now say me, Shepherds, who could help ha' strove,
To save so sweet a Heart from pain of Love?
Love is a gentle pain, a pretty pain:
He came to keep from loving Soflie's Swain.

Soflin was fair as Morning Drop is fair,
And Paplet tender as the Evening Air.
When chatted they, so sweet their chatting were!
Oh I could hear, methought, for ever hear!
On Fellow first, then Tree, they pretty loll;
Quiver their little Lips, their Eyen roll.
Sooth, ever and anon, as Soflin spoak,
Paplet in extasie would hide her Look.
Then asken more; yet shamed to asken more,
(Of Men and Love) but long'd to know so sore.
Sometimes she'd fling her self epon the Grass:
Then up, and catch in Arms her Fellow-lass.
Why may'nt we Men, yquoth the youngling Mey,
And why may'nt we grasp them? Us graspen they!
So pleased she was, and eager still to know,
In sooth so pleased, she knew not what to do.

But ill I say how sweet the Lasses sate,
Oh that you'd seen 'em, I'd give any what!
This sooth I say (for sooth the Shepherds say)
Soft simpering thus said the Youngling Mey.
The meaning of the Mey no whit I ween.
I'm sure, when near I came, just thus she sain.
Paplet.
Now much I marl: 'Tis pretty; if tell Truth!
But say; Ha, Ha! Be He so soft in sooth?

Soflin.
My gentle Mey, he is of gentlest mood.
Oh that he were my Brother! sure I would
Taken his Hand and tender lead him in,
Whenso he to the distant Field had been.

There pretty stroak his Hand, Ne have it said
See Soflin there, O see! A fawning Maid!
In his soft Bosom I my Hand would slip,
And hang epon the sweetness of his Lip.

Paplet.
Don't, Soflin, don't! how can'st talk so? Lips sweet;
How meanest sweet? How doen know be sweet?

Soflin.
All as a-green I walk with Collikin,
The lovely'st Lad that ever walk'd a-green.
If be I'm fray'd by Flood, by Boar or Bull,
He sooth's me soft, and calls me softest Soul.
Be it not pretty? b'lieve me, Pap, he doth!
And holds me 'neath his lilly Arm now sooth!
And sweet the Swain my Hand in his will nip,
Then kiss me with the kisses of his Lip.

So save me, Sweet, as truth I tell, when say
(Why tarest the Flow'rs so fierce, my pretty Mey?)
But hear me, Chick! I seemen oft be fray,

fray. Or, affraid.

When I be not: But Maids should seem they say.

Paplet.
And so; why but—and pretty'st be't then Maid,
Be lip'd when frayed art? I'll be afraid!

Soflin.
Prettier? Oh prettier, Child, than may be thought,
You mayn't hug Men, if be you fearen nought:
But sure, so sweet it is, so hug in Arms!
Skuttle to Dear, and have him hide from harms!

Paplet.
No more, but then? Yet kind be Swains, you said;
How kind? Mayn't kiss. Would kissing kill 'em, Maid?
But soft! meseem'd—oh I'd have heard for nought
Our simple Chat, for ours is simple Chat!

Soflin.
Set still Sweet! Wind might wag: Or Leverit rush,
With Cock-up Ears: don't go! or Bird from bush.

Paplet.
That Cubbinet I fear, for whom the Meys
Late joyn'd, and bought a Pipeit; all I guess
To busy him, and keep from kissing so.
The Swain that whispers us in Ear, you know,
That he can sing, then snatches a quick kiss;
Sooth, as the Mey suspecteth nought amiss.
Now the poor Heart's so pleased with his Pipe!
'Fore Great Ones he can't hold, but lay'th to's lip.

Soflin.
I know the Swain, a tender Swain is he!
Fear him not Paplet, fear him not Sweet Mey.
I know the Swain, Who sooths so soft as he!
Believe me Lass, he'll never harm Sweet Mey.

Paplet.
Oh, but he often skulks a-hind a balk,
To hear the harmless Shepherdess in talk.
Then tells the Chat to Sparks at the great-Town,
Who maken Mock at Speech of simple Clown.
Ne strange, I trow; for say me, Sweet, is't fit

Ne. Or, Nor

Our weetless Tittletattle weren writ?
Unkindly Cubbinet! untoward boy!
Else, by my fay! he is a Gentle Boy.

Soflin.
Sooth is he, but to kissing he's so given!
He'll kiss till he's odd, and then kiss to come even.
He'll kiss at the Hedge, and he'll kiss at the Gate;
He'll kiss if the chattering Magpie but prate!

Paplet.
But how must do if Swain should ere kiss me?
He'll put my Arms around him, didst not say:

Oh!—if to put my hands a-hind he goes:
May strive pull 'way, and that will pull him close!

Soflin.
Be sure look tender, when to lip he go:
But, sooth if say, Thou canst not help look so.
That dainty dimple in thy little Cheek,
So soft thee show's, so modest, and so meek!

Paplet.
Worst is, if ever Youngling cast to lay
My hand in's bosom, 'twill so pretty be,
Not I know how, O I shan't help the fault,
But blush, poor son! how Soflie must I not?

So Paplet, softest Paplet, as she said,
Her sweer-dew Lips on Soflies Bosom laid.
Soflin.
No help, I ween; what will be, best let be.
But bad in thee, my Chick, more bad in me.

Paplet.
Yet Striplin Cheek look pretty so, meweet;
(All as the Rose in bed of Lillys set.)
For Florrey late to the great-town ha' been;
But oh, when first me saw, how blush'd the Swain!
Cause why; the sweetlip boy then cast to kiss;
Yet say me soft, be that so much amiss?

Soflin.

If be but why, small harm ybe I weet.
Colly and I late roved, Nuts to get.
I witless was so bonny and so brag,
(Paplet beware not be with Love so wag)
I scratchen Chin; ah luckless Lass the when!
See here but, Paplet! I all scratch'd my Chin!
The Wound he wiped, and kist it 'ore and 'ore;
Why sooth now, Paplet, else 'twould been a sore.

Whatso I could to bar my blush, I did;
Yet ween not whether somedeal look'd not red.

But 'twas all for his Eyes so soft did seem:
While Honeybreath epon my Neck would steam.
And oh, his ringlet-locks too, where they fell
Tittled my breasts! and I was 'shamed to tell.

Paplet.
Why 'shamed? I would ha' stroak'd 'em off his Face:
And sooth now so, had'st felt how soft it was!
Oh pleasant! how you've lived! Didest not tho'
Out's Bosom take his Locks, when in did blow?
Do let me lye A-Lea with ye, now wo't?
For oft ye setten so, Lass, do ye not.

Soflin.
This Morn sweet sate we 'neath this sweet May-bough;
Ye Kentish Swains, no softer seat ye know!
The Flowers suck'd Honey-dew (O dainty draught!)
Soft for the Bees to sip that sip so soft.

Under my head a hand fair laid the Boy;
Then sinking down yclosen sleepie Eye.

Paplet.
Ay? say'st in sooth? and then—why dost not say?
Was it not lovely, when so loose he lay?
Meseems I should ha' pleased with tender Tongue
Or sooth'd, the while, with softness of a Song.

So us she said (and who so sweet can sain)
Her little Leg would in her Fellow's twine.
Then dainty'd droppen Hand in Soflie Breast:
Ah dainty Hand! how Cubbin yearn'd to kiss't!
Soflin.
Oh soft I lull'd him, soft as I could lull;
And in my Bosom put his Head to loll!
Sweet glow'd the while, his pretty rosie Cheek;
Smooth lay elong his Limbs, so slim and slieke.
Fair fed I on the fairness of his Face;
O Paplet, didst but ween how pleasant 'twas!

Paplet.

Ene. Or, One.

I've heard 'tis dainty lye along with Ene
We love; say Soflie, be't so dainty then?

Soflin.
Dainty? Ay dainty more than heart may weet
Don't look at me, Pap, and I'll tell thee what.
I putten hand in's bosom now that be's,
So silkie soft! then gently gave't a kiss!

Soft simpering saiden this the lovely Maid.
While Paplet 'tween her twey her hand fair had;
Who oft would turn and shift, as ill at ease:
Cubbin did too to see't. Ah careful Case!
Paplet.
Stay, Soflin, list! Heard I not some one sneeze
'Twas 'mong the Sedge; fast by those murmuring Bees!

Soflin.
Poor Chick, how thou dost quake! prethee leave quake.
Sooth 'twas some Bird but chirp'd in th' bushie brake

Paplet.
Much Wonder give it me, my gentle Dear!
Thou nought, ne any one, suspectest 'ere.

Soflin.

Why wouldst have fear? I wonder why dost warn!
When I have wrong'd, then I to fear will learn.
Sure Soflin none will harm; if Soflin none;
And well I ween, I never any one.

But look, ah me! how Flow'rs be blown out hair;
And bosom too!—But Lovie likes it bare.

Paplet.
Then do Lads like in sooth, or seemen they?
I've heard say, Youngling Swain will harm Young Mey.
Yet Florrey looks so pretty and so pert,
Nought I know how, fancy he could not hurt.
And Collikin, O me! but Collikin,
Of all the Swains, for me—he is the Swain!

Soflin.

O simple he's of Chear, and meek of Mein;
All-fine his Flesh, and sooth as soft his Skin!
So prettily his Words slip off his Tongue,
With a little waggish Lisp emong!
But when he sooths too pleasant 'tis to bear!
He kisses, I ask if a rosie be near!

But see there! Lallet's Cade! how that came there?
Sure by the Lamb the Lassie should be near!
Oh! Well beween'd! We bath in Brook this Eve
You see where Sprays so sweet a shadow give.
You're one; and Lallet Lass so heavenly hewn;
And Poppit maiden ripe as Rose in June.
This Florey loves; and Fauney fresh love that;
Cuddleit say some. Up Lass! mayhap they wait

They go: Their Bosoms ope to th' Evening Air:
And dip their blooming Beautys fresh and fair:
They pretty play and paddle in the Wet:
And strow with fairest Flow'rs the Streamulet.

But Paplet wistful was; On bank she set,
Siping the Honeysukles juicie Sweet.
But ah, her mind elsewhere! alass on love!
Oh Soflin, thou hast wrong'd a tender Dove!

When parted All; and All hied home; she made
As if she too; but silent by Moonshade,
Stale back to th' Bush; with hands in bosom laid,
(Those hands all fair as flower) and hanging head.
Mayhap (soft said she) now He goes to Bed.
I wonder how He lyes when there he's laid!

Besure He mind's not me when 'mong the Swains.
O could I touch Him but, just touch meseems!

Yet looked she at Moonshine on the Stream;
That twinkled fair, and strove not think on him.
Mused too on th' varying Figures made on Grass,
By th' Light, that 'tween the waving Trees did pass.
Where fancyeth she depainten this and that,
(But all of Love) atill to th' Bush did get.

There blush'd when first it saw to think that she
Should so steal back to th' place where Colly lay.
And am I then? And am I grown, she sain,
(With that gan pretty finger put in Eyen).
So sly and false? Oh Heav'n! don't see! or do,
Forgive!—small weeneth Soflin where I now.

So saying on the bank adown she laid.
Just where the Swainet lean'd, as Soflin said.
Then, smiling, thus: Mayhap his head was put
Where mine is now: Who knows? O happy Root!

This gentle Cubbinet did see and hear,
Waiting abie, the pretty Heart to chear.
He went to sooth her soft, and warn her how
She thought on Collikin. All would not do.
Soon as she saw, she started from her seat:
Ne would she hear him Pipe, ne talk awhit.
So that he made as if went strait away;
But went no farther then afore he lay.

The dainty-limbed Lass, as soft to see,
As springing Flowrets in the Month of May,
Smooth laid her slender Features down again,
All on the sweetness of the Flowrie Plain.

Ah gentle Heart! ah Heart of prettiness!
Where is the Dalliance, and the tender Kiss?

Then sigh'd out this the rosie-liped Lass,
Soft as her Eye on Heaven yfixen was.
What aileth, O what aileth thee, my Heart;
Now sooth meseem's thou be'st not as thou wer't.
Be Collikin (ah would he other was!)
Far fairer than the fairest Lad or Lass,
Yet what have I to do with Collikin?
Let me not be, e're be for Softie's Pain!
Tho', methinks, were he not her's, I could well
Wish he were mine, Oh me, how wish him well!

Thus sate the Youngling Mey, till far the Night
Was spent, and sooth the Moon nigh lost her light.
Then up gan rise; but 'ere she 'gan up rise,
Tuck'd up her Hair, and wiped her dewie Eyes.

The Softheart Swain (for Swainets all are so)
Staid till he wept, and when he wept did go.
Unhappy Soflin! Now there love's with thee,
The sweetest Mey that ever Sun did see.

All he had seen or heard, in head kept he,
To cut on Crook, or mark upon his Tree.
For sure there is not who can envy that;
Not one, I ween, can envy Lasse's Chat.
But why so fond of Lasses Chat, say you.
Oh, had you seen 'em, you'd ha' been so too!

Ye gentle Youths! who rove where led by chance,
Ifbe on Paplet's grief your Eye should glance,
Think the poor Lass mishap enough has had;
Ah don't you add, by hating what she said!
Ween, if ye maken mock at it, ye make
At Paplet mock; don't so, for Pappie's sake!

End of the first Pastoral.

LALLET OR The Tender Shepherdess

PASTORAL The II

ARGUMENT TO THE Second Pastoral.

Fauney and Lallet had an equal Value for each other. Fauney was Young, and of a most taking Aspect: Lallet beauteous and particularly tender-hearted. These walk together to a Grove at hand; to tast the pleasance of the Season, and the sweets of each other's talk. There long they bay

themselves in the soft Delices of the Morn; the harmless Swain and gentle Shepherdess. Lallet, at length, leaps up to gather Strawberrys for her Lover; while he, for her, sate plaiting Flowery Gyrlonds, and wishing her return. Long he sate, and long he wish'd. But she, to raise his Love, delay'd her return. Fauney, as she was about to surprize and joy him with her sight, rises and runs to Paplet to enquire for her. Then 'tis that Lallet's softness of heart appears. With watry Eyes she rambles thro' the Grove; and accuses her self of Cruelty. There find her another Lad and Lass, endeavour to allay her Grief, and sing a chearful Song for her Diversion. At length, Cubbin begs her to go home with him. She declines it, lest it might occasion a second Uneasiness to Fauney; and resolve's to punish her self by staying where she was. She does so. Till Fauney, at length doth come. He skulks behind the Cave she sat in, and hears how uneasy she was for making him so. Anon he surprizes her with his sight, drys up her Tears and conducts home in the height of Good-Humour.

As for the Time, tho' it begins in the Morning, the main of this Pastoral is in the Eventide, and the Moon-light Night that succeeds. The Season Midsummer-Day. And the I Scene, a delightful Grove near Lynheath.

ΣΤΕΡΓΕΤΕ δ' υμμες αιτας, ο γαρ Θεος οιδε δικαζειν.

Theoc.

[Scene 1.]

Fauney and Lallet, this as fair
As Flower, that fresh as Evening Air;
One Holy-Morning had in head,
To trip to Lynheath rosie Mead.
He one hand laid in Bosom bare:
Her Cloaths fast fluttered in Air.

Sweard. Or, Grasplatt.

Sang he and whistled ore the Sweard:
She limber leap'd, as blith as Bird.

O dainty Violet! said he,
Simp'ring, and stooping on the Lea,
Thee little Lass, ah happy thee!
Adown her Bosom letten be.
Then, for he'd give a Mey the Flower,
The Stripling kist it o're and o're.

Lallet was meek and sweet of Mein;
Tender as Evening Air ybeen.
Soothly, a-frosty Morns she'll set
Her Window ope, and much of Meat:
Then, oh how she will cherrup fair,
The gentle Birds out eager Air.

Thus merry the two triped it:
I can but smile to think how sweet!

Strait Fauney step'd afore, to see
The where the softest Seat might be.

Abie Lin-heath yspread's a Bough,
The sweetest sure the Bee doth know.
There use the Shepherds fresh yfare,
To bay their Bosoms in cool Air;
And sip the Dew off Sweet-Breer Rose:
There often Cubbinet too goes.

Now, sweet the Swain here lay at ease;
Waiting the Lilly-footen Lass.
She, slim-made PrettyOne, her hied
Over the Green, as brisk as Bride.

Her fine Dew-laping Vest, with Care,
One Hand did hold; one Flowerets fair
A-bosom put, soft Paps emong,
As soft, as Drop on Hawthorn hung.

The Shepherd saw her far away;
And sweet she sliggar'd by my Fay!
Then simpering said, as came anigh;
Oh what a merry Lass am I!
He'll pick 'em all out, when doth see,
While I with's RingletHair may play!
He'll say I'm sweeter, pick each Flower;
So I shall play amost an Hour!
Well was it ween'd now by my Fay;
O what a merry Lass am I!

But she off Fauncy was so far,
That he no whit of this might hear.

Now they're together set so sweet,
How shall I say how soft and sweet!
The Swainet ope's his Breast to th' Air;
And calls his Love to fan it fair.
Then for her Pains her Lip soft smack's,
And right's and smooth's her Honey-Locks.
Sooth, now the Lass gan like a Kiss;
But claps her dimple Cheek to his,
And whisper's soft, Much Marl I how,
Fauney, thou can'st love kissing so.

Thus lovely lay the gentle Pair,
Soft as the Mid-day Gossamer:
Strait Lallet rises, and will hie
To gather Strawberrys abie.
I prethee, said she, smiling sweet,
Stay here, and here I'll see thee strait.

She goes: The Shepherd ill can brook,
To lose the Pleasance of her Look.
But rose anon; and Flowers gan pick,
Aside a Spring, her Breast to deck.
Then down agen sate on the Soft;
And look'd for Lallet oft and oft.
O me! How fine a Flower is this;
Sooth she shan't ha't without a Kiss!
Flig'ring he said; and pleas'd himself,
That he should please his darling Elf.

Thus long he sate; still wondring why
She came not; but she then was by;
The Lass stood by; stood 'hind a Bough;
Laughing, to think what he would do,
When found she came not. Now, she sain,
Had I the Heart to give him Pain!

Emey I've heard say, I know not,
Love dearer be the dearer bought.
A little whit howe're I'll wait;
'Twill pain him but a little whit.

The gentle Shepherd easeless was;
Turning and shifting on the Grass.
When Paplet saw he, Youngling-Lass,
Soft of Heart and fair of Face.
Full far away he saw, and ran
To know if Lallet she had seen;
And walk'd awith her, grieved sore,
Till his own Dear could see no more.

When Lallet saw, a-thro' her Bough,
The fair-framed he to Paplet go;
Ah God, how yearn'd the harmless Heart!
How griev'd, that she should give him smart!

But when he out of sight did go,
Alass, she knew not what to do.
For shamed after him to run,
Thinking he now was angry grown.

With pretty carefulness in Face,
Walk'd, ne knew where, the dainty Lass.
Nought minding now her little Cade;
Though't stop't her, as afore her plaid.
Ne when she made Mouth bleed with kick,
Left it, but soft her Footen lick.
Poor Fool! It stay her would, tho' whip'd;
Mayseem it lack'd so sore be lip'd.
For't used lye in Lap elong,
And touch her Bosom with the Tongue.

Thus rov'd the dainty-leged Lass,
All till the Eve drew on apace.

Then down she laid her Limbs so sliek;
And to the cold Ground clap'd her Cheek.
Oh I hard Heart! I worse than Wolf!
(Then said) to pain so gentle Elf!
Ah how could I, how could I tho'
Go harm poor Heart? he work'd no Wo!—
But here do let me stop, for why,
I want to wipe my tearie Eye.

Scene 2.

A Grass-plat half enclosed by a Streamulet.
The Swain so soft (for soft be Swains)
Who pipes so pretty on the Plains;
I need'nt tell ye who he is,
The Lasses know him by his Kiss.
At Eve did come, with Youngling Mey.
A-to the Grove where Lallet lay.

The why he hither came was this;
Paplet he won to take a Kiss:
I'll have, quoth she, a Song for th' Kiss;
Thou sha't, quoth he, and one for this.
So here they came, as did befall,
To sing elong with Nightingale.
Here Violets ypicketh he,
To deck the bosom of the Mey.
When lo! he hear's a murmuring tone;
May seem some Young Lass made her moan.
Never will I, full well ywis,
Give pain agen! I've paid for this.
Oh, if he leaven love, ah god!
How shall I name a thing so bad?
Oh, if he leave to love farewell,
Farewell for ever, ought but Ill!

Heav'd the Swain's Breast for pity oft,
Unhappy Swain to be so soft!
Ached his Heart, to hear her smart,
Unhappy Swain to have such Heart!
Ynethered he creeps anear,
Still as a Spirit or as Air.
But could not well tell where she lay,
'Mongst many a Breer and many a Tree,
Which dusk'd in Gloom Moon's waining Ray;
Ah Lallet, how there can'st thou lay!
A Stream half closed a Plat of Grass;
And made a sweet a pleasant Place.
Here (woe-the-worse!) as nigh drew he,
He saw what made him sad to see.
A gentle Lass a-neath a Bough:
Should gentle Lass be laid so low?

Twey Lips she had, now sooth I say,
Like Cherries, and as soft as they.
A dainty Blush on Cheek was too,
The prettiest Blush, no Meys blush so.
The harmless Shepherd to her sped,
And took in Arms the harmless Maid.
But oh! when took in Arms the Lass,
Witness me God, how wo he was!
And is it then? and is't quoth he,
Lallet, the gentle Lall I see?
The dainty Daughter of the Glen?
Help me, ye Heavens, to speak my Pain!
He stroak'd her Locks, all wet with Mist,
Out Bosom, then her Bosom kist.

Why sooth 'twas soft, as Bird in Bush,
He kist so soft, and bad not blush.
Ysoothing breath'd the sweet-lip'd Air
On pretty Paps, and waved her Hair.
In Vest her Face she wimpled.
On tender Bosom hung the Head.
Tell me, ye gentle Striplings tell!
If suiten Lass so lovely wail?
O tell me! should she, ay or no,
Letten the Air her Vest yblow?
Her slender Vest the Air so blew,
That might see lilly Limbs athro'.
Cubbin was griev'd, ye can't think how,
To see her soil her Beauty so.
Her Beauty fresh gan Bloom, and 'ope
Its bashful Bosom to th' Dew-drop.

Her pretty Paps, like clustring Grapes,
A-thro' her Vest soft show'd their Shapes.
Then did the Swain, so fair and fine,
Ywipe her Tears out pretty Eyen.
Set her more soft, and soothing sweet,
Ask'd her how could so fair Cheeks wet?
He chears; but ah! she will no chear;
Down drops her Head on Bosom bare.
Chiding the gentle Nightingale,
That sang so soft its softest Tale.
Then Paplet ask'd her this and that;
Who gave her grieve? Why so she sate?
The sloe-eyed SweetOne noted none;
But looked at the waining Moon.

Tho' little Sparrow with her was,
And soft it sate in Neck of Lass.
Sooth, in her lilly Face 'twould look,
A pretty fliggar when she spoak.
See the sweet Fon, quoth Youngling-Mey;
I prethee turn and with it play!
Alack the Day! quoth Lallet fair,
The lovely Lad will love elsewhere!
And clap'd her Face to th' dewie Grass,
The fairest Face that ever was.
The sweet Balm-breathing Paplet chear'd,
Soft as the Song of Evening Bird.
Then stroaked up the Locks of th' Lass;
And spoak her thus as gave a kiss.

Paplet.
Poor Dear! It gives me pine with pain,
To see poor Dear so wond'rous wain.
Ah wo-a-way! Come gentle Maid,
In Paplet's Bosom loll thy Head!
Come, soft thy careful Case Child tell.
And can a Lover give such wail?

Lallet.
Oh, had I pained but my self,
Instead of him, poor harmless Elf!

Paplet.
See, Lass! that pretty Springlet fair!
Hark, how sweet chirp's the Grasshopper!
There set we, Sweet! There may'st thou tell,
On softest Flowers, thy tender Tale.

Lallet.

Ah what are Flowers or Spring to me:
Oh good! how fair my Lad would lay!

How loose we lean'd the livelong Day!
How wont I with his Bosom play!

Her dainty Cheek, with that same Word,
From off the Green she pertly rear'd.
But as gan think what she had done,
Poor Heart down flapped it agen.

The dabling Dew fell all emong,
Her buding Breasts so fair and young;
Her buding Breasts, that bloomie grew,
Soft shrinked at the dabling Dew.

At lenth, howe're, the tender Twey
Won her to rise from off the Lea.
Quoth Cubbin, Prethee to my Cott,
Let's go; refresh thee there awhit.

Oh no, said she, I late did pain
The loveliest Lad, the sweetest Swain:
Not for the World! might he not now,
To know I'm there, be grieved too?
But thro' the Grove she trip'd it, and
The Shepherd lead her by the Hand.

Scene 3.

A Cave in middle of the Wood.

The gentle Lad, and Lass so fair,
Thus soft did sooth, for soft they were:
His Lips gan bloom with tender Hair,
Her Paps ysprouted fresh and fair.
At lenth the wailing Sweet One they
Bring where she safe and loose might lay.

A Cave there is by Idlehill,
Ye know the Place where Shepherds loll:
There Fauney often goes; I guess,
To hear the Lark, or toy with Lass.

A Sweetbreer dainty o're it spread;
That Roses bore, and cast a Shade.
Abie it ran a Rivolet;
Painted with Sky and Flowers so sweet.
To this the lilly-finger'd Lass,
Soft wailing, pointed as did pass.
May seem she wish'd to set in th' Cave;
Her Love might thither hap to rove.

Thither the Silver-shapen Lass,
Soft triped it with easy Pace.
The Shrubs afore her sprinkled Dew;
As easy Air atween 'em flew.
Thro' Boughs the Moonlight fair beseen,
Sweet checkered the Grassie Green.
Cubbin went first to make the way;
And after trip'd the fine-limb Mey.

First gan ope Lip the little Lass,
The sweetest Lip that ever was.
See, gentle Wailer; See, my Sweet!
I've crop'd a Rose and Violet.
Here let me stick it in thy Breast!
She stuck it there, and then it kist.

Well were, quoth Cubbin (all elong
Laying him soft) we had a Song.
Paplet shall shrill some lovely Lay;
And Paplet's sweet as Musk in May.
Then first the Dew-eye'd Wailer rear'd,
Her hanging Head as quick as Bird.
She lack'd 'em sore to sing, I weet,
Of Fauney; yet was shamed to say't.

Agreed, quoth sweet-lip'd Paplet quick;
But thou thy Undersong sha't make.

And sure we so shall Lallet please.
You lye on that side I on this.

Paplet.
Arise my FairOne, come away!

Papletand Cubbin's Song to Lallet.

Fresh be the Flowers the Groves as gay.
Early arise, e're Lark gin's sing!
We'll see how well the Violets spring.

Cubbin.
Come FairOne, be thou like the Roe!
That leaping o're the Hills doth go.
Come down the Gardens, to the Grove!
We'll hear the Turtle in his Love.

Then Fauney sang they, what he was;
And could such Lad 'ere leave his Lass?

Paplet.
Fauney doth rove like airy Roe;
Arm'd with a Quiver and a Bow.

In every Shade he soft doth set;
And bay's in every Streamulet.

Cubbin.
Fauney's the Joy of every Lass;
All meek's his Mind as fair his Face.
Fauney is fresh as Evening-Sky;
With small red Mouth and twinkling Eye.

Then soft they sang to shew the Lass,
No slight Mishaps made Love the less.

Paplet.
Once clomb I for Maybough, by hap,
Cuddleit, the while, abie did trip.
He help'd me down, and sooth'd me sweet;
Shrew me if w'ont agen up get!

Cubbin.
Once Soflin tript, and fell elong;
I spy'd her lye sweet Flowers emong:

A Kiss I gave her as she lay;
Then lift her up and went away.

Thus sang the Twey their tender Tale;
Sweet as the Breath of Nightingale.
While the fair Wailer lowly laid,
And hung adown her pretty Head.
Then Cubbin took the Hand of th' Lass,
And said, soft-smiling in her Face.
I prethee Lallet go with me!
Why Fauney's far enough away!
Oh, kind my Lad! Leave ask, quoth she;
Or bid go lye on yon wet Lea!
Could I have Heart to pain poor Ele,
And shan't I have to pain my self?

She said; small thinking how the while
Fauney was near: Soft did he smile,

To hear the gentle-hearted Lass:
In Vest she wrapt her lilly Face.

Forth crep he soft, of lovely Look;
Pleas'd as the hunted Hart at Brook.
Cubbin and Paplet beck'ned first;
Then claspt his Arms round Lallet's Waste:

So loose her held the rosie Boy,
That she not dreamed any nigh.

Anon adown her self she threw,
And gan to weep and wail anew.
Ah God! but how she looked then!
Is it? and is't my gentle Swain?
Like started Hare she leap'd aloft;
Like easy Sleep he seiz'd her soft.

Together thro' the Wood they pass;
With eachen Lad his pretty Lass.
Merry as Lamkins on the Lea,
And well ye know how merry they.

So, all is well agen then now,
Lallet's as pleas'd as Bird on Bough.
Then what remains, ye Striplings, now;
But that you smile and be so too?
More bless'd to make's alone in you;
Can ye dislike what Lasses do?
Much Wo has had the fairfaced Dear,
Do, pity her because she's fair.

N. B. The Writer of these Pieces, has several of the like by him. His Friends were very importunate for their attending these into the World. But he thought if he could find Pardon for thrusting two upon the TOWN, 'twould be Honour enough. Nor had he consented so far, but thro' their representing to him, that Innocence and Simplicity were here set in an engaging Light. And would any one, thro' this slight Attempt, have a kinder Thought of that harmless Modesty in our CHARACTERS; or be hereby induced to desire our Age might, in some measure, resemble those drawn; our young Swain would think his first Step not entirely taken amiss.

The End of the Second Pastoral.

FINIS.