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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)

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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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165

SONG XVII. Written in a Collection of Bacchanalian Songs.

Adieu, ye jovial youths, who join
To plunge old care in floods of wine;
And, as your dazled eye-balls roll,
Discern him struggling in the bowl.
Not yet is hope so wholly flown,
Not yet is thought so tedious grown,
But limpid stream and shady tree
Retain, as yet, some sweets for me.
And see, thro' yonder silent grove,
See yonder does my Daphne rove:
With pride her foot-steps I pursue,
And bid your frantic joys adieu.
The sole confusion I admire,
Is that my Daphne's eyes inspire:
I scorn the madness you approve,
And value reason next to love.
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