University of Virginia Library

A PASTORAL.

PHILLIS.
The starry lights above are scarce expir'd,
And scarce the shades from open plains retir'd;
The tuneful lark has hardly stretch'd her wing,
And warbling linnets just begin to sing;
Nor yet industrious bees their hives forsake,
Nor skim the fish the surface of the lake.

AMINTA.
Nor yet the flow'rs disclose their various hue,
But fold their leaves, opprest with hoary dew;
Blue mists around conceal the neighb'ring hills,
And dusky fogs hang o'er the murm'ring rills;
While Zephyr faintly sighs among the trees,
And moves the branches with a lazy breeze:
No jovial pipe resounds along the plains,
Safe in their hamlets sleep the drouzy swains.

PHILLIS.
For me Mirtillo sighs; the charming youth
Persuades with so much eloquence and truth,
Whene'er he talks my flocks unheeded stray;
To hear him I could linger out the day,
Untir'd till night, 'till all the stars were gone,
Till o'er the eastern hills the morn came on.

AMINTA.
For me Silvander pines, as full of truth,
In secret too, perhaps, I love the youth;
Yet treat him ill, while with dissembled pride
I mock his vows, his soft complaints deride;
And fly him swifter than a sportive fawn
Skips thro' the woods, and dances o'er the lawn.

PHILLIS.
Unpractis'd in the turns of female art,
My looks declare the meaning of my heart;
To own so just and innocent a flame,
Can fix no blemish on a virgin's name:
When first my lips the tender truth express'd,
A thousand joys Mirtillo's eyes confess'd.

AMINTA.
No boasting swain such truths from me shall hear,
Such words shall never reach Silvander's ear.
With Thisbe once, his favour'd dog, I play'd,
Which from his master thro' the woods had stray'd;
Still on the path my watchful eyes I kept,
When from the thicket the pleas'd owner stept;
His smiling looks an inward joy confess'd
To find, by me, the darling dog caress'd:
Surpriz'd, from off my lap his dog I threw,
And swift as lightning thro' the forest flew.

PHILLIS.
Whene'er Mirtillo's sportive kid I find,
With wreathing flow'rs his twisted horns I bind,
And fondly stroke him in his master's sight,
Nor e'er abuse the harmless thing in spight,
Or think the guiltless favour worth my flight.

AMINTA.
The nymphs and swains Apollo's revels grac'd,
In sprightly dances the smooth green they trac'd;
Silvander begg'd I would his partner stand,
I turn'd, and gave to Corilas my hand.

PHILLIS.
I to Mirtillo did my hand refuse;
But after that no other swain would chuse:
At Cynthia's revels Hylas strove in vain,
And Lycidas the favour to obtain.

AMINTA.
A basket of the finest rushes wrought,
With jess'min, pinks, and purple vi'lets fraught,
With modest zeal, to me Silvander brought:
His present I rejected with disdain,
And threw the fragrant treasures on the plain.
Soon as the youth retir'd, with wond'rous care
I search'd them round, nor would one blossom spare;
With some, in wreaths, my curling locks I grac'd,
And others nicely in my bosom plac'd.

PHILLIS.
Fresh sprigs of myrtle oft my breast adorn,
And roses gather'd in a dewy morn:
Of all the garden's flow'ry riches, these
Mirtillo loves, and I his fancy please.

AMINTA.
SILVANDER told a secret in my ear,
Which twice I made pretences not to hear;
He nearer drew, invited to the bliss,
And in the am'rous whisper stole a kiss.
My rising blushes the bold theft reveal'd,
Dorinda scarce from laughing out with-held:
I left the shepherd, feign'd myself enrag'd,
And with his rival in discourse engag'd.

PHILLIS.
In yonder bow'r I sate, when tow'rds the place
Mirtillo hasten'd with a lover's pace;
I feign'd myself to careless sleep resign'd,
My head against a mossy bank reclin'd;
Approaching near, sweet may thy slumbers be,
He softly cry'd, and all thy dreams of me!
I laugh'd, nor longer could conceal the cheat,
But told the am'rous youth the fond deceit.

AMINTA.
When in the echoing vale Silvander plays,
And on his reed performs the rural lays,
Behind the shading trees I oft' retire,
And undiscover'd, the sweet notes admire:
But when in public I his numbers heard,
To his unskilful Egon's I prefer'd;
Tho' with the swan's expiring melody,
The cuckow's tiresome note as well may vye.

PHILLIS.
Whate'er Mirtillo dictates meets applause,
His voice attention still as midnight draws;
His voice more gentle than the summer's breeze,
That mildly whispers thro' the trembling trees;
Soft as the nightingale's complaining song,
Or murm'ring currents as they roll along;
Without disguise the skilful youth I praise,
Admire his numbers, and repeat his lays.