Poems, Fables, and Plays :: :: University of Virginia Library

Thus I said to my heart, in a pet t'other day,
I had rather be hang'd than go moping this way;
No throbbings, no wishes your moments employ,
But you sleep in my breast without motion or joy.

II

When Cloe perlex'd me 'twas sweeter by half,
And at Thais's wiles I could often-times laugh;
Your burnings and akings I strove not to cure,
Though one was a jilt, and the other a whore.

178

III

When I walk'd up the Mall, or stroll'd through the street,
Not a petticoat brush'd me, but then you could beat,
Or if bang went the hoop against corner or post,
In the magical round you were sure to be lost.

IV

But now if a nymph goes as naked as Eve,
Like Adam, unfallen, you never perceive;
Or the seat of delight if the tippet should hide,
You tempt not my fingers to draw it aside.

V

Is it caution, or dread, or the frost of old age,
That inclines you with beauty no more to engage?
Tell me quickly the cause, for it makes me quite mad,
In the summer's gay season to see you so sad.

VI

Have a care, quoth my heart, how you tempt me to stray;
He that hunts down a woman, must run a d---d way:
Like a hare she can wind, or hold out with the fox,
And, secure in the cháce, her pursuers she mocks.

179

VII

For Cloe I burnt with an innocent flame,
And beat to the music that breath'd out her name;
Three summers flew over the castles I built,
And beheld me a fool, and my goddess a jilt.

VIII

Next Thais, the wanton, my wishes employ'd,
And the kind one repair'd what the cruel destroy'd:
Like Shadrach, I liv'd in a furnace of fire,
But, unlike him, was scorch'd, and compell'd to retire.

IX

Recruited once more, I forgot all my pain,
And was jilted, and burnt, and bedevil'd again;
Not a petticoat fring'd, or the heel of a shoe,
Ever pass'd you by day-light, but at it I flew.

X

Thus jilted, and wounded, and burnt to a coal,
For rest I retreated again to be whole;
But your eyes, ever open to lead me astray,
Have beheld a new face, and command me away.

180

XI

But remember, in whatever flames I may burn,
'Twill be folly to ask for, or wish my return:
Neither Thais, nor Cloe, again shall enflame,
But a nymph more provoking than all you can name.

XII

This said, with a bound from my bosom he flew;
O, Phillis! these eyes saw him posting to you:
Enslav'd by your wit, he grows fond of his chain,
And vows I shall never possess him again.

SONG the Second.

Collin.
Be still, O ye winds, and attentive, ye swains,
'Tis Phebe invites, and replies to my strains;
The sun never rose on, search all the world through,
A shepherd so blest, or a fair one so true.

181

Phebe.
Glide softly, ye streams, O ye nymphs, round me throng,
'Tis Collin commands, and attends to my song;
Search all the world over, you never can find
A maiden so blest, or a shepherd so kind.

Both.
'Tis love, like the sun, that gives light to the year,
The sweetest of blessings that life can endear;
Our pleasures it brightens, drives sorrow away,
Gives joy to the night, and enlivens the day.

Collin.
With Phebe beside me, the seasons how gay!
Then Winter's bleak months seem as pleasant as May;
The Summer's gay verdure springs still as she treads,
And linnet's and nightingales sing through the meads.

Phebe
When Collin is absent 'tis Winter all round,
How faint is the sunshine, how barren the ground!
Instead of the linnet and nightingale's song,
I hear the hoarse raven croak all the day long.

Both.
'Tis love, like the sun, &c.

182

Collin.
O'er hill, dale and valley my Phebe and I
Together will wander, and love shall be by:
Her Collin shall guard her safe all the long day,
And Phebe at night all his pains shall repay.

Phebe.
By moonlight, when shadows glide over the plain,
His kisses shall chear me, his arm shall sustain;
The dark haunted grove I can trace without fear,
Or sleep in a church-yard, if Collin is near.

Both.
'Tis love, like the sun, &c.

Collin.
Ye shepherds that wanton it over the plain,
How fleeting your transports, how lasting your pain!
Inconstancy shun, and reward the kind she,
And learn to be happy of Phebe and me.

Phebe.
Ye nymphs, who the pleasures of love never try'd,
Attend to my strains, and take me for your guide;
Your hearts keep from pride and inconstancy free,
And learn to be happy of Collin and me.

183

Both.
'Tis love, like the sun, that gives light to the year,
The sweetest of blessings that life can endear;
Our pleasures it brightens, drives sorrow away,
Gives joy to the night, and enlivens the day.

SONG the Third.

I

As Phillis the gay, at the break of the day,
Went forth to the meadows a maying,
A clown lay asleep by a river so deep,
That round in meanders was straying.

II

His bosom was bare, and for whiteness so rare,
Her heart it was gone without warning,
With cheeks of such hue, that the rose wet with dew,
Ne'er look'd half so fresh in a morning.

184

III

She cull'd the new hay, and down by him she lay,
Her wishes too warm for disguising;
She play'd with his eyes, till he wak'd in surprize,
And blush'd like the sun at his rising.

IV

She sung him a song, as he leant on his prong,
And rested her arm on his shoulder;
She press'd his coy cheek to her bosom so sleek,
And taught his two arms to infold her.

V

The rustic grown kind, by a kiss told his mind,
And call'd her his dear and his blessing:
Together they stray'd, and sung, frolick'd and play'd,
And what they did more there's no guessing.

185

SONG the Fourth.

He.
Let rakes for pleasure range the town,
Or misers doat on golden guineas,
Let plenty smile, or fortune frown,
The sweets of love are mine and Jenny's.

She.
Let wanton maids indulge desire,
How soon the fleeting pleasure gone is!
The joys of virtue never tire,
And such shall still be mine and Johnny's.

Both.
Together let us sport and play,
And live in pleasure where no sin is;
The priest shall tie the knot to-day
And wedlock's bands make Johnny Jenny's.

186

He.
Let roving swains young hearts invade,
The pleasure ends in shame and folly;
So Willy woo'd, and then betray'd
The poor, believing, simple Molly.

She.
So Lucy lov'd, and lightly toy'd,
And laugh'd at harmless maids who marry;
But now she finds her shepherd cloy'd,
And chides too late her faithless Harry.

Both.
But we'll together, &c.

He.
By cooling streams our flocks we'll feed,
And leave deceit to knaves and ninnies;
Or fondly stray where love shall lead,
And every joy be mine and Jenny's.

She.
Let guilt the faithless bosom fright,
The constant heart is always bonny;
Content, and peace, and sweet delight,
And love shall live with me and Johnny.

187

Both.
Together still we'll sport and play,
And live in pleasure where no sin is;
The priest shall tie the knot to-day,
And wedlock's bands make Johnny Jenny's.

SONG the Fifth.

I

Stand round, my brave boys, with heart and with voice,
And all in full chorus agree;
We'll fight for our king, and as loyally sing,
And let the world know we'll be free.

Chorus.
The rebels shall fly, as with shouts we draw nigh,
And echo shall victory ring;
Then safe from alarms, we'll rest on our arms,
And chorus it, long live the king!

188

II

Then commerce once more shall bring wealth to our shore,
And plenty and peace bless the isle;
The peasant shall quaff off his bowl with a laugh,
And reap the sweet fruits of his toil.

Chorus.
The rebels, &c.

III

Kind love shall repay the fatigues of the day,
And melt us to softer alarms;
Coy Phillis shall burn at her soldier's return,
And bless the brave youth in her arms.

Chorus.
The rebels shall fly, as with shouts we draw nigh,
And echo shall victory ring;
Then safe from alarms, we'll rest on our arms,
And chorus it, long live the king!

189

SONG the Sixth.

I

To make the wife kind, and to keep the house still,
You must be of her mind, let her say what she will;
In all that she does you must give her her way,
For tell her she's wrong, and you lead her astray.

Chorus.
Then, husbands, take care, of suspicion beware,
Your wives may be true, if you fancy they are;
With confidence trust them, and be not such elves,
As to make by your jealousy horns for yourselves.

II

Abroad all the day if she chuses to roam,
Seem pleas'd with her absence, she'll sigh to come home;
The man she likes best, and longs most to get at,
Be sure to commend, and she'll hate him for that.

Chorus.
Then, husbands, &c.

190

III

What virtues she has, you may safely oppose,
Whatever her follies are, praise her for those;
Applaud all her schemes that she lays for a man,
For accuse her of vice, and she'll sin if she can.

SONG the Seventh.

Damon.
Hark, hark, o'er the plains how the merry bells ring,
Asleep while my charmer is laid!
The village is up, and the day on the wing,
And Phillis may yet die a maid.

191

Phillis.
'Tis hardly yet day, and I cannot away,
O, Damon, I'm young and afraid;
To-morrow, my dear, I'll to church without fear,
But let me to-night lie a maid.

Damon.
The bride-maids are met, and mamma's on the fret,
All, all my coy Phillis upbraid;
Come open the door, and deny me no more,
Nor cry to live longer a maid.

Phillis.
Dear shepherd, forbear, and to-morrow I swear,
To-morrow I'll be not be afraid;
I'll open the door, and deny you no more,
Nor cry to live longer a maid.

Damon.
No, no, Phillis, no, on that bosom of snow
To-night shall your shepherd be laid;
By morning my dear shall be eas'd of her fear,
Nor grieve she's no longer a maid.

192

Phillis.
Then open the door, 'twas unbolted before,
His bliss silly Damon delay'd;
To church let us go, and if there I say no,
O then let me die an old maid.

SONG the Eighth.

I

That Jenny's my friend, my delight, and my pride,
I always have boasted, and seek not to hide;
I dwell on her praises wherever I go,
They say I'm in love, but I answer no, no.

II

At ev'ning oft-times with what pleasure I see
A note from her hand, "I'll be with you at tea!"
My heart how it bounds, when I hear her below!
But say not 'tis love, for I answer no, no.

193

III

She sings me a song, and I echo each strain,
Again I cry, Jenny! sweet Jenny, again!
I kiss her soft lips, as if there I could grow,
And fear I'm in love, though I answer no, no.

IV

She tells me her faults, as she sits on my knee,
I chide her, and swear she's an angel to me:
My shoulder she taps, and still bids me think so;
Who knows but she loves, though she tells me no, no?

V

Yet such is my temper, so dull am I grown,
I ask not Her heart, but would conquer my own:
Her bosom's soft peace shall I seek to o'erthrow,
And wish to persuade, while I answer no, no?

VI

From beauty, and wit, and good-humour, ah! why
Should prudence advise, and compel me to fly?
Thy bounties, O Fortune! make haste to bestow,
And let me deserve her, or still I say no.

194

SONG the Ninth.

I

You tell me I'm handsome, I know not how true,
And easy, and chatty, and good-humour'd too;
That my lips are as red as the rose-bud in June,
And my voice, like the nightingale's, sweetly in tune:
All this has been told me by twenty before,
But he that would win me, must flatter me more.

II

If beauty from virtue receive no supply,
Or prattle from prudence, how wanting am I!
My ease and good-humour short raptures will bring,
And my voice,like the nightingale's, know but a spring.
For charms such as these then, your praises give o'er,
To love me for life, you must love me for more.

III

Then talk to me not of a shape or an air,
For Cloe, the wanton, can rival me there:

195

'Tis virtue alone that makes beauty look gay,
And brightens good-humour, as sunshine the day;
For that if you love me, your flame shall be true,
And I in my turn, may be taught to love too.

SONG the Tenth.

I

How blest has my time been, what days have I known,
Since wedlock's soft bondage made Jesse my own!
So joyful my heart is, so easy my chain,
That freedom is tasteless, and roving a pain.

II

Through walks, grown with woodbines, as often we stray,
Around us our boys and girls frolic and play;
How pleasing their sport is the wanton ones see,
And borrow their looks from my Jesse and me.

196

III

To try her sweet temper sometimes am I seen
In revels all day with the nymphs of the green;
Though painful my absence, my doubts she beguiles,
And meets me at night with compliance and smiles.

IV

What though on her cheek the rose loses its hue,
Her ease and good-humour bloom all the year through;
Time still as he flies brings increase to her truth,
And gives to her mind what he steals from her youth.

V

Ye shepherds so gay, who make love to ensnare,
And cheat with false vows the too credulous fair,
In search of true pleasure how vainly you roam!
To hold it for life, you must find it at home.

197

SONG the Eleventh.

I

Hark! hark! 'tis a voice from the tomb!
Come, Lucy, it cries, come away;
The grave of thy Collin has room,
To rest thee beside his cold clay.
I come, my dear shepherd, I come;
Ye friends and companions, adieu;
I haste to my Collin's dark home,
To die on his bosom so true.

II

All mournful the midnight bell rung,
When Lucy, sad Lucy arose;
And forth to the green-turf she sprung,
Where Collin's pale ashes repose.
All wet with the night's chilling dew,
Her bosom embrac'd the cold ground,
While stormy winds over her blew,
And night-ravens croak'd all around.

198

III

How long, my lov'd Collin, she cry'd,
How long must thy Lucy complain?
How long shall the grave my love hide?
How long ere it join us again?
For thee thy fond shepherdess liv'd,
With thee o'er the world would she fly,
For thee has she sorrow'd and griev'd,
For thee would she lie down and die.

IV

Alas! what avails it how dear
Thy Lucy was once to her swain!
Her face like the lily so fair,
And eyes that gave light to the plain!
The shepherd that lov'd her is gone,
That face and those eyes charm no more,
And Lucy forgot and alone,
To death shall her Collin deplore.

V

While thus she lay sunk in despair,
And mourn'd to the echoes around,
Inflam'd all at once grew the air,
And thunder shook dreadful the ground.

199

I hear the kind call, and obey,
Oh, Collin, receive me, she cry'd!
Then breathing a groan o'er his clay,
She hung on his tomb-stone and dy'd.