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The works, in verse and prose, of William Shenstone, Esq

In two volumes. With Decorations. The fourth edition
Shenstone, William (1714-1763)

collapse sectionI. 
VOL. I.
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ELEGIES, WRITTEN ON Many different Occasions.
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ODES, SONGS, BALLADS, &c.
  
RURAL ELEGANCE. An ODE to the late Dutchess of Somerset.
  
ODE to MEMORY. 1748.
  
The Princess ELIZABETH: A Ballad alluding to a story recorded of her, when she was prisoner at Woodstock, 1554.
  
ODE to a young LADY, Somewhat too solicitous about her manner of expression.
  
NANCY of the VALE.
  
ODE to INDOLENCE. 1750.
  
ODE to HEALTH. 1730.
  
To a LADY of QUALITY,
  
UPON A VISIT to the same in Winter. 1748.
  
AN Irregular ODE after Sickness. 1749.
  
Written in a Flower Book of my own Colouring, designed for Lady Plimouth. 1753–4.
  
AN ACREONTIC. 1738.
  
ODE. Written 1739.
  
The DYING KID.
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SONGS, written chiefly between the Year 1737 and 1742.
 I. 
SONG I.
 II. 
SONG II. The Landskip.
 III. 
SONG III.
 IV. 
SONG IV. The Sky-Lark.
 V. 
SONG V.
 VI. 
SONG VI. The Attribute of Venus.
 VII. 
SONG VII.
 VIII. 
SONG VIII.
 IX. 
SONG IX.
 X. 
SONG X.
 XI. 
SONG XI.
 XII. 
SONG XII.
 XIII. 
SONG XIII. The Scholar's Relapse.
 XIV. 
SONG XIV. The Rose-Bud.
 XV. 
SONG XV.
 XVI. 
SONG XVI. Daphne's Visit.
 XVII. 
SONG XVII. Written in a Collection of Bacchanalian Songs.
 XVIII. 
SONG XVIII. Imitated from the French.
  
The HALCYON.
  
ODE.
  
A PASTORAL ODE,
  
VERSES written towards the close of the Year 1748, to William Lyttelton, Esq
  
JEMMY DAWSON. A Ballad; written about the Time of his Execution, in the Year 1745.
  
A Pastoral BALLAD, in Four Parts.
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LEVITIES;
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MORAL PIECES.
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VOL. II.

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153

SONG V.

[On every tree, in every plain]

Ah! ego non aliter tristes evincere morbos
Optarem, quam te sic quoque velle putem.

On every tree, in every plain,
I trace the jovial spring in vain!
A sickly languor veils mine eyes,
And fast my waning vigor flies.
Nor flow'ry plain, nor budding tree,
That smile on others, smile on me;
Mine eyes from death shall court repose,
Nor shed a tear before they close.
What bliss to me can seasons bring?
Or, what the needless pride of spring?
The cypress bough, that suits the bier,
Retains its verdure all the year.
'Tis true, my vine so fresh and fair,
Might claim awhile my wonted care;
My rural store some pleasure yield;
So white a flock, so green a field!
My friends, that each in kindness vie,
Might well expect one parting sigh;
Might well demand one tender tear;
For when was Damon unsincere?
154

But ere I ask once more to view
Yon setting sun his race renew,
Inform me, swains; my friends, declare,
Will pitying Delia join the prayer?
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