 | A Collection of Poems |  |
7
PARTING.
Pastoral II.
To Mr. B. Ayrey.
Dear
Friend, unbend a-while thy Thoughts, and deign,
To hear the humble Musick of the Plain.
The silvan Muse, of Daphnis' parting sings,
And tells in lowly Numbers, lowly Things:
Be pleas'd to smile upon my rural Lay,
A Smile from AYREY, will my Pains o'er pay.
To hear the humble Musick of the Plain.
The silvan Muse, of Daphnis' parting sings,
And tells in lowly Numbers, lowly Things:
Be pleas'd to smile upon my rural Lay,
A Smile from AYREY, will my Pains o'er pay.
8
Daphnis, a Swain, whom cruel Fate demands
To leave his lofty Hills and furrow'd Lands:
To leave his Hills, but more his Phebe, prest
A load of Grief within his anxious Breast.
To leave his lofty Hills and furrow'd Lands:
To leave his Hills, but more his Phebe, prest
A load of Grief within his anxious Breast.
Whilst on a Bank, arising from the Plain,
His Partners sit, on either Hand the Swain;
But Phebe nearest to the Shepherd plac'd,
Lean'd on his Breast, his Arm around her Waist;
(Such Freedom, native Innocence allows,
When all the Heart with kind Affection glows.)
Touch'd with a tender Sorrow, thus began
The Swain in mournful Numbers to complain.
His Partners sit, on either Hand the Swain;
But Phebe nearest to the Shepherd plac'd,
Lean'd on his Breast, his Arm around her Waist;
(Such Freedom, native Innocence allows,
When all the Heart with kind Affection glows.)
Touch'd with a tender Sorrow, thus began
The Swain in mournful Numbers to complain.
My Dear! to die with thee, would surely give,
Not half that Anguish, as to part and live;
For what is Life, when ev'ry Pleasure's fled,
But still a Dying, yet be never dead?
Ah me! it must be done, why lingers more,
My foolish Heart? this Parting must be o'er;
Then follows Absence.—Now methinks I rove
O'er Hills unknown, and mourn my hapless Love;
Or laid alone within some joyless Shade,
My Fancy figures out my distant Maid.
Not half that Anguish, as to part and live;
For what is Life, when ev'ry Pleasure's fled,
But still a Dying, yet be never dead?
Ah me! it must be done, why lingers more,
My foolish Heart? this Parting must be o'er;
Then follows Absence.—Now methinks I rove
O'er Hills unknown, and mourn my hapless Love;
Or laid alone within some joyless Shade,
My Fancy figures out my distant Maid.
9
While thus I dream, I see some happier Swain,
Clasp the dear Fair, while sorrowful I plain;
Daphnis forgot, and Phebe turns unkind,
And all her plighted Vows resolve in Wind.
O never let me know that hapless Morn,
First let me die and never more return!
'Mongst hospitable Strangers be my Fall,
Not mourn'd by any, and forgot by all!
Clasp the dear Fair, while sorrowful I plain;
Daphnis forgot, and Phebe turns unkind,
And all her plighted Vows resolve in Wind.
O never let me know that hapless Morn,
First let me die and never more return!
'Mongst hospitable Strangers be my Fall,
Not mourn'd by any, and forgot by all!
What have I said? O why should jealous Fears,
Disturb my Breast, and fill my Eyes with Tears?
I know my Phebe (lovely as the Flowers,
Bright Gleams display, between soft April Showers)
Is fill'd with Innocence, and Faith, and Truth,
As fix'd as Age, tho' full of charming Youth;
O she's all Goodness, as she is all fair,
Joy of my Days, and Comfort of my Care!
Tho' now we part, yet we shall meet again,
And double Joys atone for ev'ry Pain.
Like as in Fields o'ercharg'd with constant Show'rs,
Hangs down the Grass, and droop the weary Flow'rs;
But when the Mists and Clouds dispers'd in Streams,
Let down the Sun-shine, and reflect his Beams,
Rises the Grass, and open out the Flowers,
The Sun more welcome, and a Bliss the Showers.
So we, when once we see this Absence o'er,
Shall meet more Joy, than e'er we met before;
Our joining Breasts a keener Bliss shall fill,
A warmer Rapture and a fiercer Thrill;
Each will be newer to each other's Sight,
And ev'ry Pain will introduce Delight.
Disturb my Breast, and fill my Eyes with Tears?
I know my Phebe (lovely as the Flowers,
Bright Gleams display, between soft April Showers)
Is fill'd with Innocence, and Faith, and Truth,
As fix'd as Age, tho' full of charming Youth;
O she's all Goodness, as she is all fair,
Joy of my Days, and Comfort of my Care!
Tho' now we part, yet we shall meet again,
And double Joys atone for ev'ry Pain.
Like as in Fields o'ercharg'd with constant Show'rs,
Hangs down the Grass, and droop the weary Flow'rs;
But when the Mists and Clouds dispers'd in Streams,
Let down the Sun-shine, and reflect his Beams,
10
The Sun more welcome, and a Bliss the Showers.
So we, when once we see this Absence o'er,
Shall meet more Joy, than e'er we met before;
Our joining Breasts a keener Bliss shall fill,
A warmer Rapture and a fiercer Thrill;
Each will be newer to each other's Sight,
And ev'ry Pain will introduce Delight.
Fly swift ye Minutes, bring that happy Hour,
Which Daphnis unto Phebe shall restore;
O how I long to see that Moment nigh,
When ravish'd all, in Phebe's Arms I lie,
And softly tell the Thoughts which Absence rais'd,
How oft I sigh'd her Name, how much I prais'd:
How many Times my Prostrate Soul did move
In ardent Prayers to ev'ry Power above,
To guard my Charmer, and preserve my Fair
From ev'ry Ill, and each deluding Snare.
Which Daphnis unto Phebe shall restore;
O how I long to see that Moment nigh,
When ravish'd all, in Phebe's Arms I lie,
And softly tell the Thoughts which Absence rais'd,
How oft I sigh'd her Name, how much I prais'd:
How many Times my Prostrate Soul did move
In ardent Prayers to ev'ry Power above,
To guard my Charmer, and preserve my Fair
From ev'ry Ill, and each deluding Snare.
And
Phebe in her turn, with melting Glee,
Shall sweetly say whate'er she thought of me:
While Kisses, soft as Kindness can prepare,
Those Lips which tell the pretty Tale, shall share.
The Thought of that dear Day revives my Heart,
Nor dread I Absence, nor I mourn to part.
Shall sweetly say whate'er she thought of me:
While Kisses, soft as Kindness can prepare,
Those Lips which tell the pretty Tale, shall share.
11
Nor dread I Absence, nor I mourn to part.
But when I'm gone, ye Swains who bear the Crook,
Or climb the Hills, or wander by the Brook,
If ever in your Thoughts I claim'd a Share,
Or justly you the Name of Friendship bear:
If ever to my Tales you've merry made,
Or danc'd, or listen'd to the Tunes I play'd,
If ever I have any Kindness show'd,
Or step'd aside to do my Neighbour good:
If e'er to help amongst your Flocks I've come,
Or sav'd a Sheep, or brought a Stragler home;
Let not those grateful Turns be set at nought,
But bear them still, when I am gone, in Thought,
And let each grateful Swain recal to Mind,
That I have left my nearer self behind;
Shew Favour to this dear, this charming Maid,
My best belov'd, and Daphnis is o'er pay'd.
Or, if the Plain, or rising Hill she tread,
Walk thro' the Wood, or shine along the Mead,
Or on some flow'ry Bed she take her Rest,
Or gently lean upon the Bank, her Breast;
Shepherds attend, and keep her safe from Ill,
Be ever near her, and be ready still.
Or climb the Hills, or wander by the Brook,
If ever in your Thoughts I claim'd a Share,
Or justly you the Name of Friendship bear:
If ever to my Tales you've merry made,
Or danc'd, or listen'd to the Tunes I play'd,
If ever I have any Kindness show'd,
Or step'd aside to do my Neighbour good:
If e'er to help amongst your Flocks I've come,
Or sav'd a Sheep, or brought a Stragler home;
Let not those grateful Turns be set at nought,
But bear them still, when I am gone, in Thought,
And let each grateful Swain recal to Mind,
That I have left my nearer self behind;
Shew Favour to this dear, this charming Maid,
My best belov'd, and Daphnis is o'er pay'd.
Or, if the Plain, or rising Hill she tread,
Walk thro' the Wood, or shine along the Mead,
Or on some flow'ry Bed she take her Rest,
Or gently lean upon the Bank, her Breast;
12
Be ever near her, and be ready still.
Time calls away, and Daphnis must remove,
Farewel Companions, and adieu—my Love.
Farewel Companions, and adieu—my Love.
| A Collection of Poems | |