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Pastorals

Viz. The Bashful Swain: And Beauty and Simplicity. By Mr. Purney

Purney, Thomas (1695-ca. 1727)

II.

III.

Beauty and Simplicity.

[Scene I.]

II.

SCENE II.

III.

SCENE III.

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The Bashful SWAIN.

PASTORAL the First.

ARGUMENT.

Paplet had a tender thought of Colly. She lov'd the Lad she had never seen. But who lov'd Paplet think ye? I need'nt tell ye She was pretty (yet oh Heaven's, how much she was so!) why the little Cuddleit scarce fifteen. All-meek he was and modest, with a world of Patience. But sure you'ad smiled to see him in his Love! In the next Room he lay to Paplet, and wondrous pleasance took to clap his Ear to th' Wall, and hear her breath. Once, as he so diverted him, he heard her rise, with a secret design to go see, and speak to Colly, who fed his Heifers on Lynheath. Cuddleit leaps out of Bed, get's first a-field, and stands by a Wood she must go thro'. Anon comes Paplet, with her little Brother Dilly; after some difficulty in getting forth unheard by her anciant Sire. There the bashful young Lover accost's her, but dare not profess his Affection. Yet She, suspecting Love, assume's a rough and rude Behaviour. He stop's her there a while; at last, they pass the Wood together. In it they loose the way; and are directed by Colly, a Stranger. He hear's the Lass discourage Cuddleit, and admires the generosity of her Temper, unwilling to engage a Passion which she could not answer. Anon the Lass discerns the Heath, obliges Cuddleit to return, and enter's it with Dillin. There they wait till Colly comes; but Paplet's Heart relent's at his Sight; nor dares she accost him. But follows to a Bush, where he was set with Soflin, his Sweet-Heart. Close unseen she skulk'd; till Cuddleit came to her disturbance. Who teazes so, that Colly hear's 'em a-hind the Bush. As he was taken with Paplet's temper, fair he speak's Her, sooth's all soft and sweet, and carry's home with utmost Care and Tenderness.

The Time of this Pastoral is a little before and a little after Day-break. The Season Winter. And the 1 Scene in the Cave or lonely Cott where Paplet is supposed to have been brought up.

[SCENE I.]

Paplet lov'd (ah lov'd too well!)
A gentle boy, his Name was Coll;
Colly the Darling of the Plains,
And softest he of all the Swains.
As she for Colley, Cuddleit sigh'd for her;
The little Lad that has white ringlet Hair.

He'd throw him down, and cry, as hurt,
Oh, what's the matter with my Heart!
Long set, and muse on Paplet's face;
Then clasp his Arms in eagerness.
Ah Paplet! Thou small weenest how thou art,
Cause of such pain to such a gentle Heart!

Acquaint he was with Floreynet,
Who liv'd as Brother with Paplet.
Oft Florey did he go to see;
Oft staid the Eve; oft with him lay.
Yet none, not Paplet, dare he tell his Smart;
But stand close by, and soft say, O my Heart!

'Tween Florey's bed and that of th' Lass
Only a little Wall there was.
Cuddleit oft wak'd; his Cheek he'd clap
Close to the Wall; and wish mayhap.
And oft as stir'd the gentle-breathing Lass,
So oft he'd cling to th' Wall, so often kiss't.

One Night (a frosty Night it was)
Soft-musing lay he on the Lass;
Whenas he heard her get out bed;
Sure I shall find the Heath ! She said.
Chary from out the warm Cloaths too crep he;
Dress'd him; and got a-field before the Mey.

She lay with, like a Rosie sweet,
Her little Brother Dillinet.
Him took she with her to the Heath;
O Pap, quoth he, 'Tis cold as Death!
But Colly there that Morn his Heifers drove;
And Paplet ne're had seen the Lad her Love.

To dress her quick the lilly Mey,
Flirted as busy as a Bee.
Sweetly her Hair was braided, she
Clad in the softness of a Say.
Fair was her face, her Vest white—sooth she show'd
The Lilly on a Heap of Roses strow'd!

All time of Colly chat's the Mey,
All time had thought for many a day.
Yet oft the head she hung; may seem
Ashamed still to talk of him.
Some Ringlet-Locks atween her breasts were flung
Mayhap he'll like it! said the tender Tongue.

Soft were those breasts, as soft and sweet,
As is at Eve the Floret's Wet.
And all her care was how to get
Out, Ne be heard, with Dillinet.
He merry little Wag, would hop and play;
All-sweet as Lamkin on the flowerie Lea.

And when she snib'd (she could not hit)
'Twould smile so pretty! Smile so sweet!
Then take her hand and promise oft
(Looking at Lip) he'd kiss it soft:
Then make his tender Mouth her fair Hand hit,
I-faith I can but smile to think how sweet!

Her beauty fresh 'gan bloom, and ope
It's bashful bosom to th' dew-drop;
But sure, had you her Shape but seen!
Yfay 'twas fair as flowerie-Green!
Simp'ring she smil'd; 'lack! all unlike the Meny;
Sweet were her lips, and Oh her tongue dropt Honey!

Say me, ye gentle Striplings say!
If e're ye saw so soft a Mey:
Ye gentle Striplings, by my Fay!
As soft she was as Summer-Day.
Yet oft she'd muse, as head on hand did lay,
And inly sigh full sore; sweet hapless Mey!

Now twice to pass unheard she try's;
Twice Dilly makes a lumbring Noise;
So that the boy she took up quick,
And bad him hang about her Neck.
The lilly-finger'd Lass fair hold's her Vest
With one hand, t'other feel's the Way she pas't.

Kist her all Way the little Ele;
(Why sooth she could'nt help her self!)
Her snowie Neck and dainty Paps;
Then to her Cheek his Cheek he clap's.
Fligg'ring and laughing that he had her now.
Shrewd Heart; how well he found the Way out tho'!

The Path a-to Lynheath, where fed
Colly ran thro' a gloomy Wood.
At Edge hereof poor Cuddleit stand's,
To meet his Paplet, as by Chance.
His Heart went pit-a-pat when spy'd the Lass,
For 'sham'd to love the little Shepherd was.

SCENE II.

A large Wood. Cuddleit. Paplet. Dillin.
Cud.
Sure gentle Paplet 'tis I see!
My gentle Paplet, where away?

Pap.
I hope t'ant Cuddleit that I see!
I prethee Shepherd stand away!

Cud.
Send me sweet Mey; go thou, where wo't, and play
How should thy tender Limbs with Frost away?

This Place ill suits a Lass so fair;
Pap.
How should it, Swain, when you are here?

Cud.
Oh, see the Dirt doth touch thy Foot!

Pap.
I'ad rather That than Thou should'st do't!

Cud.
Nay I am going; thro' this Wood; I staid
But only 'cause I thought I heard some Tread.

Oh, Paplet! I've a thing to say!
You know the Haycock; there to Day,
Six Swainets and as meny Meys,
A Match have made at Kiss and Brace!
You'll go? You'll hap be judge (O lucky Lass!)
Whose Grasp is tend'rest, whose the sweetest Kiss.

Pap.
Lucky? He! He! When Colly's there?
And Cubbin too? O teazing Pair!

Cud.
Then 'blieve me Lass, not one will be!
For Colly goes to hunt to day.
And Cubbin to Great-Town; 'tis talk'd, to tell
The Gay-Maids there what Lallet late befell!

Pap.
To day?—Well, what harm's that, I trow?
I wish you'd get ye gone there now!
Say he does tell, Leud Boy! He shall,
Tell all; Why he can't help it well;
They get him there, poor Swain, and make him prattle,
And he has nothing else, you know, to tattle.

Cud.
May he do it? Why then he may.
But Paplet, you a while a-way,
When he would go, would hang on's Waste,
And hit his Cheek, Ne let him rest,
Till you had forc't him turn, and cry anon,
Sweet mine own Heart, I ne're will go agen!

Pap.
And sweet my Pain, I think you ne're
Will go at-all! what do ye here?
Come Dilly, let's along!—what now?
Good Servant Swain! I call'd not you!

Cud.
But I this dull Wood pass too, gentle Mey.

Pap.
Then call it dull no more, 'twill dismal be!

Thus pretty Paplet saith in sooth,
And ope's the Gate, and onward go'th,
But was so grieved for the Swain,
Went little way, and came agen.
Yet knew not why, ev'n then (sweet Life) tho' strove,
Could'nt help be rough: O Love! O cruel Love!

Up to the Swain she came, but there
Could only turn, and drop a Tear.
The head she hung, to seem so rough,
But saw full sad, One Love's enough.
Now on they pass, the Shepherd too did pass;
And walking on, such Chat they had as this.

Cud.

Ha! Ha! I ne're shall love, I know;
But should it ever happen tho',
A Cade I'd keep, and teach it how
Lick Lasse's Hand. and pat her Shoe.
Oh, ev'n the Air should never breath on Face,
Save when did breath as soft as any Glass.

How I should love, in heat of Day,
To watch her, as Asleep she lay!
The Shepherds Strawb'rys she should get;
And beat their Lambs, if would 'em beat.
A Bear's Cub have I, now it hate's a Maid;
But that too on her Knee should lay it's Head.

But I shall never love I find;
So, Paplet, if you have a Mind,
The Cub is your's, and 'tis I-Fay,
A Cub as fair as Dawning-day!

Pap.

Keep, Swain, thy Cubs! They're rough and fit for thee,
But what am I to Cubs, or Cubs to Me?

Cud.

Nay, where it is, the sooth to say,
'Tis well enough; 't has room to play.
But soft ye! Here's an end of th' Track!
We've lost the way; ah less the luck!

Pap.

Quick scale that Tree, mayhap the Side you'll ken.
O hapless I, to follow such a Swain!

But take-ye-heed! the Wind is high!
That Bough will break, good gentle Boy!
See, how you sweave! what see you there?

Cud.

No Edge:—I see a falling Star.
Oh me! In th' Plat that's hem'd with Trees thro'-out,
Meseem's I see some Fairys dance about!

And there! (O would you saw the Sight!)
A Will-a-whisp with Lanthorn light!

Pap.

What they to us: O good come down!
O how you swing! I well'y swoon.
Don't drop so fast. What must We must We do?
So now you're safe: Come, this way let us go.

Cud.

O I hard Heart! more hard than Stone!
To lead out way so tender One.
Here Paplet, sweetest Paplet take
My Coat, and throw ebout thy back!
The Frost will bite thy dainty Lip, I fear!
And oh, the Dew will stain thy Bosom bare!

But ha! where now? What Hole is this?

Pap.
We go but more and more amiss!

Cud.

Alas sweet Mey, what can I do?
And oh that Thorn has claw'd thee too!

Pap.
Tis nothing that; my Breast is tore, and Arm!

Cud.
Hold thee about my Waste! 'twill hide from harm.

O Paplet! (why 'tis best of bad)
I see a Haycock; to it speed!
We'll lay Us warm awhile in it,
'Twill soon be Day my gentle Sweet!
I'll cover thee so close, No whit of Wet
Shall to thy Face or Hands or Bosom get!

Pap.

No; better is to walk I weet;
Sure we or Way or Man shall meet.

Cud.

But gentle you! a Swain I see.
Stay here; I'll step and ask the Way.

Pap.

Be quick. O Paplet! were not better now,
Thy pure warm Bed? What's here but Frost and Snow!

Alas, and is, and is this then
To Love? O harmful gentlest Swain!
Then let me keep this tender Boy,
From loving where no hope may be!
His youngling-heart is now as late was mine;
O me! (thought I) sure Love is fair and fine!

Cud.

Why dost thou lean agenst the Tree;
And wrap thy Face in Vest, my Mey?
Look up, sweet Life! why yonder Swain
Has shewn me to my Way agen!
Step here, twill wet thee else: I prethee take
My Hand, or sooth the Breer thy Breast will prick!

Pap.

Be quiet! I can go alone!
Ne lack I Swains to help me on!

Cud.

Sweet Paplet, here's the way. And see
The Moon, meseem's, gin brighter be.
But good my Paplet, walk a-neath my Vest;
I-Fay 'twill chop thy Lip and blue thy Breast!

Pap.

You care that's not your Care; what be
My Breasts, I trow, or Lips to thee?
I wa'nt for me you'd roll in Snow;
You do so blith and bonny show!

Cud.

Ah for such talk wa'nt made that Tongue, sweet MEY!
Suiten sweet Mey soft Song or Virilay.

But see, my Paplet! do but see!
We're gotten out of Wood I-fay!

Pap.

Ay, now we're well; and were we rid
Of thee as well, 'twere well indeed.

Cud.

Why Paplet, thee to please, I'll try my way
To find a-back;—tho' fearful 'tis Yfay!

He said; and when he once had said,
She kept him to his word indeed.
And sooth to say, how could she 'ere
Meet Collikin, while he was there?
But oh, how loath the young Heart is to go!
Yet 'sham'd he be what said to unsay now.

With folded Arms, and hanging Head,
Athro' the Wood a while he stray'd;
Then lean'd his Head agenst an Oak,
And in the Snow did write with Crook,
Paplet to kiss; (he knew not what to do)
I-faith I 'blieve a thousand times wrote so!

But Collikin the Lass espyed,
All as she on with Dillin hied;
For Colly was the Swain that show'd
The gentle Cuddleit to the Road.
And heard how all unwilling Paplet was
To let him love, and willing not to please.

For all the way she went along,
Unseen he crep the Breers emong.
Oh gentle-hearted Lass! (quoth he
Soft to himself) O meekly Mey!
Was ever Lass so kind, to keep from hope
A Swain so young, 'cause was no room for hope!

But now the tender-triping Lass
Out Wood upon the Heath does pass.
And he at Edge a while doth wait,
Till out of sight the Mey might get.
She, pretty Heart, her little Hands did lay
All in her Bosom; and thus soft gan say.

SCENE III.

A Blea and open Heath, with Bushes. Paplet. Dillin.
Pap.

The Dawn begin's to break; there lyes
The East, where now that Night-Crow fly's.

Dill.

What is this Hoar-Frost spread so white?
O me! how blea the Air doth bite!

Pap.

Tis keen and eager; small alas off-cast
These Bushes, with froz'n Isicles, the Blast!

Alas poor Lad, thee pain I too.
Did'st see but how thy Hair doth show!

Dill.

O, mind not me! withouten me,
You pain enough: Yes, I can see.

Pap.

No whit, not I! But soft me, is he tall?
Are his Legs slender? Prethee tattle Dill!

Dill.

Whom meanest Mey? You asken that;
But let me ask a thing for Chat.
Say why you rise so early now?
When bleak and frosty Blasts do blow?
I lye and hear 'em, but dare not put out
My Toe a-bed; I cry 'cause you're about.

Pap.

Fie, Sirrah! you must ne're say so!
Besure do'nt tell thy Father now!

Dill.

Tell why you walk by Moon-light then,
In Orchat, ere the Day gin dawn?

Pap.

Shrewd Head! Sirrah, I say you must be beat,
If you do talk so. Is his Hair tho' strait?

Dill.

Tell me, Paplet, what thee ail's?
Sooth I'll not tell any else!
Once my cutten Finger made
Me wake; and thus a-sleep you said.
O this is He! (and laugh'd and fliggar'd too)
It is the Boy! by th' Light, it is the Boy!

Pap.

But was'tne YesterEve you said,
By Lyn-heath Shepherd Colly fed.

Dill.

It was, and there his Heifers he
Drove yesterday, and drives to day.

Pap.

I hope he'll not come by while we are here!
For he must pass this part of th' Plain I fear.

Dill.

He will abie them Bushes go.
But we've no business there you know.

Pap.

Soft ye! a thing I saw, methought,
All white; Is Cosset thither got?

Dill.

If 'tis, twill starve; Sweet FON! let's just go see.
Doe's Colly eat Folks, that ye fear him Mey?

Pap.
Ay, sooth! he's rough and sowr, they say.

Dill.
No whit! he's soft as Month of May!

Pap.
But he'as a hugeous stalking step.

Dill.

O Me! when 'tis the gentlest Trip!
The Women and the Daughters of the Grove,
As passes, bless him; and as bless him, love!

But soft ye! sure the Mist a-thro',
The Morning Mist, I see him go—

Pap.
Say'st? Where? But show me! what on there?

Dill.
No; 'tis the Snow, born up by breer.

Pap.

He! He! so fair? To stay were almost well,
Only to show how all untrue you tell!

Dill.

I'll lay thee what thou wo't he's so.
But soft! I-sooth he cometh now!

Pap.

O how I glad! Sweet dearest Boy,
Let hug thee! happy happy I!
I want his Soflin; him I'll ask where be.
A little while and he'll be here I-Fay!

Dill.
Soft, Paplet, he is well'y here,

Pap.
O me! I thought him not so near!
I wish he'ad not come yet! I thought
To have been ready: I'll say nought:
I'll only look: Is this he here? Alas,
I quiver; What shall do? Has he seen us?

I would he had not come! I wish
I'ad lain a-bed! Let's skulk in Bush!

Dill.
Why he'll not harm—

(Pap.)

Hush Child he'll hear!
Ha! Ha! he comes! run hind that Breer!
No, we'll stand't out.—run Dill behind; he's here!
I'll not be seen this time. Look at his Hair.

Dill.

Now lye still, Pap; Do'nt whisper so.
I see's slim Waste; and his Locks blow.
O me! thou tar'st thy Neck with Bough!
Why do'st not mind? The Drops fall too!

Pap.

Hush, Dillinet! he's gone. No; still his hair
I can see fly. Now, look! he'll turn just there.

Now look, He turn's, He goe's; look! look!
—Should he not one View of me took?
How can he like, if doth not see.
'Twere better. O I bashful! He
Is gone. O Witless! Foolish! run boy, run, hast!
To Collikin; what stand'st? O Heav'n! scowr fast.

Dill.

What must I say when there I get?
Nothing, but Collikin well met!

Pap.

Oh, any thing! how small I care;
Say I am scratch'd; am dying here!
Yet stay; poor gentle little boy! how should
You go and speak, when I so illy could?

Thus was the gentle-hearted Lass,
By sight of him more ill at ease.
And now what doe's she, when alone,
But go and set on a cold Stone.
And first gan muse, with head agenst a Tree,
And inly sigh full sore: Alass sweet Mey!

Then leaning back her pretty Head,
With folded Arms, she softly said.
Such was his Look; so hung his Hair;
And thus the Youth himself did bear.
And so thro' all his Features she would pass;
How sleek his Limbs, how fine and fair his Face.

Then wipe's the lilly-handed Lass,
Her dewie Breast, and tearie Face,
And rises soft; we'll go, quoth she,
And look where Collikin may be.
Now he with Soflin his True-love had met;
Soflin as sweet, as breath of Morn is sweet.

They smil'd to hear the Winds by-rush,
Skulk'd in the Covert of a Bush.
Within the Bush was truss'd fresh Hay;
And soft they sate, as fair as Day.
Soflin her Apron o're her Colly spread,
And Colly 'neath his Arm his Soflin laid.

Strait, to 'em steal's unseen the Mey;
Ynethered on hand and knee.
If Leaves a little rustle made,
She squatted as a Hare afraid.
Ne breathed: Sooth her heart went pit-a-pat;
She quak'd at Air; her Shadow skewed at.

Whenas she came a-hind the Breer,
Close crep to Colly as she dare.
O happy Hay! (soft said the Lass)
Thrice happy Hay, to bear his Face!
Soflin he kist; O how her Heart did yearn!
The Bush she shak't; yet wisht he might not turn.

Paplet, quoth Soflin, was last-day
At Wake. That Paplet, answer'd he,
And pauz'd to cough. She prick'd her Ears;
Her Heart beat; pale she look'd with fears.
That Paplet soothly is a tender Mey!
Walk thro' the World you sha'nt a softer see!

But ah! how this the Youngling warms!
Dilly she caught in eager Arms.
Brisk fliggar'd. Kist, and kist agen;
And look't, the while, at Collikin.
And as the tender Air his breath did blow;
She catch'd the Air; quoth she, his Breath I've too!

But now the kindly Cudleit could,
No longer wait in th' gloomy Wood.
He wondred why the Mey came not;
And sure, said he, She'as some Mishap.
So, when he yearn'd, and could no longer stay,
He came and saw the Lass where loose she lay.

She saw not him, till close he got,
And in his eager Arms her caught.
And then what could She, could not cry,
Ne struggle, Collikin so nigh.
Much while she bore the soothing of the Swain;
Then sprang, and won her Limbs yloose agen.

But Colley heard, and thro' the Hay
Peeping, yspy'd the struggling Twey.
He saw it was the kindly Mey,
He lik'd in th' Wood a while-a-way.
And shall not I, he cry'd, go take the part,
Of such a gentle such a tender Heart!

So saying step'd 'em both a-tween.
Then oh how lookt the Youngling-Swain!
He started, blush'd, and inly sigh'd;
While Paplet off with Colly hied.
Who 'ore the Plains and Meadows with her go'th,
And softly sooth's as soft as he can sooth.

The Lad was jolly as the Day;
Merry the Lass as Month of May.
He leap'd and laugh'd a-thwart the Mead;
She simper'd, smil'd, and turn'd the Head.
All Way her Vest he smooth'd, and stroak'd her Hair,
And knew not why, but sigh'd when left the Dear.

The End of the First Pastoral.

Beauty and Simplicity.

PASTORAL the Second.

ARGUMENT TO Pastoral II.

Soflin, as she is cropping Florets by the River Eden, and singing to her self, spy's Paplet, in tears, come tow'rd her. She meet's her in a tender way, soft dry's her Cheeks, and ask's her Ail. But the Mey will give her only just to know, that she loved a Swain she might not love. Yet, if he has as tender a Thought of her, no reason remain'd for the making it a Secret. Soflin, if so, must hear it soon; and it might mayhap be so related as to show young Paplet in a faulty View. Wherefore she win's Soflin to walk along the Banks of Eden, to a secret Retirement, with a Promise, that there she would open her Heart. The shades of Eve hie on; they trip to the Retirement; and lay 'em on the Flowers. There the Mey recount's the Carriage of the Lad she lov'd; and Soflin, from the several Instances, declare's, he lov'd. Then doe's the generous Mey cry out, 'Tis Colly loves and is belov'd! Just then, by chance, that Swain came singing and floyting o're the Green. He spy's the Lasses, and make's up to 'em. They fly to the Shelter of the Brakes and Bushes. Colly follows; and catches Paplet (Paplet alas was left) as she was getting over a running Water; which Soflin leapt, as Hind the Hedges. After much while he wins the gentle Mey to let and chat aside the Stream. Then come's Soflin back, and walk's round and round 'em unseen, in the utmost Uneasiness, till the Shepherd goe's. Then she steps to Paplet; and saying, 'Tis done! a lasting Farewel now to Colly ! gives her a Bracelet she had received of the Swain, and wishe's her more happiness in his Love, than had been her fortune to enjoy.

The Time in this Pastoral is in the declining part of the Day. The Season, MAY. And the first Scene an agreable SHADE, by Braham in Kent.

[Scene I.]

Soflin.

Ah pretty! What Flowr's this? A Dew-cup 'tis.
Oh me! how meny Hues it has!
This Streak's the Colour of my Colly's Hair!
This of his Neck! I'll kiss't how'ere.

Of the Swains there is Cubbin and Florey;
Cubbin can Kiss and can tell a kind Story;
And Florey is blith and wild as the Wind;
But oh, say's my Heart, there's Another behind!

Take me, soft Grass! here soft I mean to set:
How meny Violets! O how sweet!
My face shall fall emong 'em; wicked Flow'r!
What wet me? Sure you've Honey store!
Now sooth this Braham is a pleasant Place!
As fine and fair as Lonon Lass!

My Heart's on the Hills and the Heaths with the Wind,
Hei! Ho! simple Heart!
The start it has got of the Hart and the Hind,
Oh hapless, hapless Start!

O Spring! sweet Spring! welcome, thou gentlest Spring!
Welcom ye Birds, that soft gin Sing!

O May! thou fairest Month! all-welcome too!
You dainty make the Daisies grow!
Colly like's this Flow'r: By your leave, Sweet Flow'r!
You must drop in my Breast, all o're!

Colly's pretty as 'ere Lad was pretty;
Friskie as Fairie, Well-hearted and Witty.
For when he sate by me and call'd me his Sweet,
His dainty white Bosom I could'nt help hit!

How now? What can't you keep, ye flirting Flower,
Emong my Hair? I'll plait ye more.—
But soft me! Sure that's Paplet's tender Step!
Poor little Dear, it seems to weep!

SOFLIN. PAPLET.
Soflin.
Ah now, for pity! who has harm'd poor heart?
And are they could give Mey to smart?

Lay head in Soflie's bosom, Child, and say;
Ne pretty finger put in Eye!

Paplet.
What do'st? Think whom thou holdest to thy Breast!
May't not be One that spoils thy rest?

Soflin.
Hold thee a-whit, Sweet Dear! let wipen face!
Thy face, Sweet Dear, is wet alas!
Look at yon Lark; how't chirp's! thy Grief forgo!
This pretty face won't made for Woe!

Paplet.
Knew'st thou, O Soflin, knew'st thou all it's shame,
I fear thoud'st find some harsher Name.

Soflin.
What meanest, pretty Paplet? Prethee tell.
O I can't bear to see thee wail!
Come, set thee on these Violets so sweet;
A-neath this shady Maple set!
See that young-bird! how't fliggaring stands; how glad,
Before the Mother to be fed!

Look, that young Fawn licks t'other! pat's it too,
With Footen! how they're happy now!

Paplet.
Yes pretty Fools, they're happy. Happy sure!
No Ill to know, no Harm to fear.
Feed gentle Creatures! now feed sweetly on!
Feed sweet when Paplet's Day is done!

Soflin.
What meanest Mey? Now by this beating breast,
I charge thee speak out thy Unrest!

Paplet.
Ah worse the while! thy gentle heart would break
To hear the whole that I can speak!

Soflin.
No, but I'll bear, a thousand Ills I'll bear!
If Ills can come from one so Dear.

Paplet.
A Lad I love; all earthly things ebove!
The loveliest Lad, Lass 'ere did love.

Yet him for ever I must shun; wish he
As long, and lasting, may fly me.
For Oh! He is Another's! Her's, to who
A wrong, I'd rather dye, than do!

Soflin.
Ah luckless Lass! poor luckless, hapless Lass!
But love's he thee too, may ye guess?

Paplet.
That would I know, and then all undone.
And that thou't tell, if any One.
If be thou weenest, Lass, he loves me, then
Alone I may not ha' my pain.
If be thou weenest that, O then I may
Tell all that ever I can say!

Soflin.
Let hearen how he hath him, when with thee;
And as I ween, so will I say.

Paplet.
Oh, but I shame, all for a Swain, I fear,
May skulk a-hind this Hedge and hear.
Isne here Braham-Green? And there so sweet
The Swains and Bonnibells do meet,
To dance, and play, and getten Florets fair,
To weave in Chaplets, or their Hair.

Soflin.
He! He! And fearest thou, thou gentle Heart!
Why who so gentle Heart should hurt?

Paplet.
But yet, if be thou rather art, my Dear,
We'll walk elong the Eden here.
Not far away there is the sweetest Seat!
There Eden and the Medway meet!
Ne can come any, save afore, ynigh;
And sure we any so may see.

Upleaping light, elong the Medway's side
The silkie-footen Lasses hied.
There, sweet the Shade was; gentle there the Breeze;
Soft on the May-boughs sate the Bees.
The Lasses Air-wove Vestures flutter fair,
And sprinkle Sweets thro' ev'ry Breer.

Anon the Sun gin's set, and stain the Sky,
And glister on the brook abie.
See yon fair Cloud! (the fairer Soflin cry'd)
As Pap a waving Brier spy'd.
See yon sweet Breer! (the Mey more sweetly said)
As Leaves, with gentle Air, off-fled.

Strait, runing came a little Kid abie;
The prettiest Kid! I wonder why?
Twould hide it's little head 'mong Paplet's Cloaths;
And gentle bite 'em as she goe's.

May seem it had been bred up by some Lass;
And now turn'd out, on Green to graze.
For long it follow'd her; Ne would away;
But oft 'twould run afore and play.

A little Wet there was; the Mey doth stand,
And stoop's to take her Vest in hand.
To lick it went the Kid; She start's away;
I-Fay, poor fool, it frighted Me!

Thus, soft as Thrushe's tongue the Lasses trip:
Their airy Vests the Florets sweep.
And now they are, where sweet the Air they see
On both the Streams so pretty play.
At Pebbles reppeling and tedded Grass,
The Medway ran along apace.
The gentle Eden's waves, as breezes fan'd,
Dashing fast splash'd the slabb'ry land.

The easy-faring Fish sweet wandered
All in the Wet, and sweetly plai'd.
He! He! the tender-tongued Paplet, cry's;
To see the little Fish catch Flys.
So merry lookt they, whenso came in sight;
You'd said they were asham'd of light!
To see 'em fled the Mew and Diedapper,
And thought themselves so happy there!
Glist'ring in th' Sun, they skim the top all-fair;
Then scowr away ev'n flit as Air.

SCENE II.

The Corner of a Meadow; made by the Eden's runing into the Medway.

Soft, as a Lover's Sighs, and sweet to see,
As smiling Mouth of pretty Mey;
Their lovely Limbs the Lasses fair out-spread,
All on the softness of the Mead.

The Evening breeze (ah happy Evening breeze!)
Sweet with their honey-hair yplay's.
Breath'd on their Necks, and in their bosoms went,
I-faith I can but think upon't!

As fair atween the Streams they sate, the Mey
In Soflie's lap elong did lay.
See, (quoth the little Heart) that Swan so fair!
'T has caught a Fish! will't bring it here?
See! it come's close! O pretty, do but see!
I'll lay this Flower it's fair as thee!

She said. The while, the tender-touching Air,
Flutter'd the Florets out her Hair.
With Pancet, Perewincle, and Dew-cup,
Sweetly her Hair was braided up.

But sprinkled now around 'em lay the Flowers,
Lovely as fall of Summer Showers.
Thus on the tender bank their Limbs out-lain
The Lasses now gin chat agen.

Soflin.
There, let the Kid lye quiet, Child! twill lay
All in thy Lap, ne troble thee.
So, give me now to know the Stripling's way,
And I will guess if loveth thee.

Paplet.
I have, to hide from heat, a balmie Bowr
With meney a Floret shaded 'ore.
In it's a Rose-heap, soft as Linnet's lip;
There loose I lay my Limbs to sleep.
At Eve he'll come, and call me to the Grove;
And hold me as I were his Love.
Arise my Dove! my Fair One! See the shade
Come's on; the Linnets tongue is laid!

Whatso he said by th' Way, so soft he said!
And smiling would by-hang the head.
There in the Moonshine by a Spring We sate:
O Me! Methought it was so sweet!

Soflin.
He love's I-Fay! Now lean upon me thus:
Thou never yet has lean'd thee thus!

Paplet.
Oh, but he once did, what I well do ween,
Can never come from loving Swain!
Early, 'ere Day gan dawn, the pert-lim'd He
Out-hi'd o're Hills and Heaths to stray.
When home he came, all-weary as I ween,
Soft-smiling ran I to the Swain.
(Sooth, Soflin! I'd not doen so now'ere,
But was so joy'd, could not forbear!)
But he, (ah harmful he!) soon as he see's,
So eager in his Arms doth squeeze,

That fain I was cry out, as he me kis't;
For why, he pull'd so hard to's Breast!
Then shov'd agen his Cheek too (more the moan!)
My Lip, that sooth I well'y swoon!
Did'st 'ere know like a-fore? Now well I ween
I ne're knew like! what might he mean?

Soflin.
Hard is to say; in sooth I well'y weet,
There be but little Love, my Sweet!
But would he come to see but once a-day?
A Lover live's by Sight, they say.

Paplet.
Oftner. With Sweet-breer Roses soft, a Shade
Anear his Cote for Me he made.
My Hand a-tween his Hands he'd tender take,
And lead Me to the gentle Brake.
Daintily ran, ne rattled a-whitt,
Abie, a little Rivulett.

There would he make me with his Hair yplay;
He! He! 'Twas pretty, by my Fay!
He'd sprinkle Violets in my Bosom then;
But I made pick 'em out agen!

Soflin.
Thou never had'st, I ween, my Gentle Lass,
Mishap might make him love the less?

Paplet.

Alas! such hap I had (ah Wo-away!)
I'll tell the Tale at length to thee.

Once came he, (in a Dale I lay elong)
As lith he came as Linnet's tongue.
One Holy-Eve, I well remember, 'twas;
Wo't go to th' Grove, quoth he, my Lass?

The Stripling deckt in Silkie Green all 'ore,
As sweet as May or Bird in Bowr,

Prickt on by Youth and prime of Lustihed,
A-thwart the Hills and Heaths ystray'd.
The Quicks, up-springing, leap't he with his Spear;
Flying his Vest, his Bosom bare.

With him I went (ah with him why went I?)
For oh, the rest I shame to say!
Strait, as we chac'd the limber-leged Hare,
A-mid the Brambles of a Breer,
I, heedless, one Leg hamper'd, that my Cloaths
(O sad to say!) 'bove Foot arose.
The Swain my Stockin hid; then loos'd my Shoe.
Had but two Kisses; ask'd but two!

Soflin.

Hard hap, my gentle Lass, I have to hear!
Yet small to make him leave his Dear.
Don't taken that best Flow'r, my pretty Pap!
And I'll tell what to me did hap.

Once lay my Love, I faith! as lovely lay,
As Fawn soft licking it on Lea.
Fresh breezes o're his tender Features stale,
For oh, 'twas in a flowerie Vale!
I had been hunting, and by hap came by,
With Bow and Quiver, where he lay.
The Flowers of the Vale I cropt anigh,
And soft ysprinkled on the Boy;
When oh, he wak'd (small weeting as I was)
He wak'd to see his blushing Lass.
But still he lov'd me; lov'd me, Paplet, yet!
And still thy Lad doth Love I weet.
Then say me now the Swain, my gentle Mey
If be he lov'd, thou was't to say.

Oft did the gentle Paplet raise her head,
To tell; as oft, asham'd and 'fraid,
Drop'd it agen on Soflies bosom low;
And call'd her, softly call'd her, Foe!

Then Soflin, (taking her in tender Arms)
Sure thou may'st tell a Friend thy harms!
Paplet there turn'd her head, to cough, as feign'd,
But blush'd in sooth, at Name of Friend.
Not yet did Soflie leave, but askt agen;
When she, (with head in bosom lain)
O! did I Soflin hate, and Soflin Me,
One had been happy as the Day!

Thus far the Lass not ween'd what meant the Mey;
Tho' sooth it easy was to see!
Where now's the free, the pretty Way where now,
Pap ever us'd to Soflie show?

Rarely she call'd her, Dear; and when she did,
It came at unawares, you'd said.
And if she graspt her hand, All-faint it was;
While blushes bore she in her face.
Then Soflie askt what Age he had, what Face?
He's like to Colly cry'd the Lass.
So as she said, the Tears soft-showering fell;
I-sooth! it make's me cry to tell!

But Soflie now more eager grew to know,
Her Hand she seiz'd, Ne would let go.
The Swain, (quoth Pap,) that love's with me to dally,
The Swain is, for his Name 'tis, Colly.

She said. That instant, as she said,
Colly came triping 'ore the Mead.

Leapt he, and floited, Jolly as the Day;
His Way it was (oh merry Way!)
His Eye he cast where soft these sitting were;
O Me! why sure my Paplet's there!
Soon as the pert-Eye Lasses saw the Swain
Trip to 'em ore the rosie Plain;
They fled away, as flitt as any Roe;
He! He! cry'd he, What's matter now?
Their fluttering Hair, and Vests yblown with Breeze,
Soft scatter Sweets emong the Trees.
All Way their rosie-plaited Locks the Ground
Sprinkled with Flow'rs that flew around.
But sure, had you but Paplet seen! sweet Fon,
'Twas cast; but oh, how't scrabbled on!

Strait, they a little Streamulet came to;
Soflie leapt o're like airy Roe.
But what must now the little-legged Lass!
It yearning stand's; how should it pass?

All thro' the rosie Breers, poor heart, ran she;
All thro' the rosie Breers sped he.
At length, alas, he caught her Air-drove Vest;
For she, poor Fon, was alway last.
Much while it was, at length, howere, he made
The Mey to sit in th' gloomie Glade.
But she'd not come anear, Ne see, Ne touch,
And yet she lov'd, she lov'd him much.

Yet haply if her Eye did meet her Coll,
She could not help but to him fall.
Quick tho' recover'd her agen. Thus strove
She 'tween her Friendship and her Love!
If be he touch'd her hand, away she'd throw;
Yet Sigh'd, the while, that must do so.

SCENE III.

A Bushy Brake, on the Side of a small running Water.

As sweet they sate, as sweet they show'd, I-Fay,
As Rosie-buds in Month of May,
Soft by the Side of th' easy-gated Stream;
Where sprinkled Flow'rs so fair did swim.

Soflin was safe: But when he caught the Mey,
Scarce Heart she had run more away.
Her breast doth yearn. She run's 'ore all the what
That they might do; sit, laugh and chat.
E'ne-now she joy'd at getting off, Ene-now
Resolv'd to hate, and hated too.
Yet back she need's must go. See's Paplet lain.
I doubt then wish'd her self't had been!

Around the place, and round, she walketh oft;
Then stay's her Step, and listen's soft.
Now she'd resolve to go to him, but when
Came well'y close, draw back agen.
Anon he rises, and his leave doth take;
And walk's away where was to walk.

Then Soflin, who had skulkt a-hind a Breer,
Came weeping to the little Dear.
They wept together. Soon as she could speak,
Thus said, as fell on Paplet's Neck.
There is no more! May'st in him happy be!
Ne're grieve Thee for, ne think on Me!
And oh, do'nt blame the Boy! Ne love, dear Pap,
The less for this! It was my Hap.
There is no more. Do thou this Bracelet take;
Wear it, as I did, for his sake!

And now, sweet Boy! for ever now farwell,
For ever fare thee, fare-thee-well!

She said. Then did the Bracelet on her bind,
That was her Colly's, once so kind.

The End of the Second Pastoral.

FINIS.