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Indulge the frenzy that thou must endure, And soothe the pain thou know'st not how to cure. Come, flattering Memory! and tell my heart Fiow kind she was, and with what pleasing art She strove its fondest wishes to obtain, Confirm her power, and faster bind my chain. If on the green we danc'd, a mirthful band; To me alone she gave her willing hand : Her partial taste, if e'er I touch'd the lyre, Still in my song found something to admire. By none but her my crook with flowers was crown'd, By none but her my brows with ivy bound : The world, that Damon was her choice, believ'd, The world, alas ! like Damon, was deceiv'de When last I saw her, and declar'd my fire In words as soft as passion could inspire, Coldly she heard, and full of scorn withdrew, Without one pitying glance, one sweet adieu. The frighted hind, who sees his ripen'd corn Up from the roots sudden tempests torn, Whose fairest hopes destroy'd and blasted lie, Feels not so keen a pang of grief as I. Ah, how have I deserv’d, inhuman maid, To have my faithful service thus repaid ? Were all the marks of kindness I receiv'd, But dreams of joy, that charm'd me and deceiv'd? Or did you only nurse my growing love, That with more pain I might your hatred prove ? Sure guilty treachery no place could find In such a gentle, such a generous mind : A maid brought up the woods and wilds among Could ne'er have learnt the art of courts so young:
No; let me rather think her anger feign'd,
TO MR. DODDINGTON, AFTERWARDS LORD MELCOMBE
HEAR, Doddington, the notes that shepherds sing,
Damon no longer sought the silent shade,
“ Blest be the hour,” he said, “ that happy hour, When first I own'd my Delia's gentle power ; Then gloomy discontent and pining care Forsook my breast, and left soft wishes there ; Soft wishes there they left, and gay desires, Delightful languors, and transporting fires. Where yonder limes combine to form a shade, These eyes first gaz'd upon the charming maid ; There she appear'd, on that auspicious day, When swains their sportive rites to Bacchus pay: She led the dance Heavens! with what grace she
mor'd! Who could have seen her then, and not have lov'd ? I strove not to resist so sweet a flame, But gloried in a happy captive's name; Nor would I now, could Love permit, be free, But leave to brutes their savage liberty.
“ And art thou then, fond youth, secure of joy ?
“ Begin, my pipe, begin the gladsome lay; A kiss from Delia shall thy music pay ;
A kiss obtain'd 'twixt struggling and consent,
“ Why stays my Delia in her secret bower ?
“ Hark how the bees with murmurs fill the plain, While every flower of every sweet they drain : See, how beneath yon hillock's shady steep, The shelter'd herds on flowery couches sleep : Nor bees, nor herds, are half so blest as I, If with my fond desires my love comply ; From Delia's lips a sweeter honey flows, And on her bosom dwells more soft repose.
“ Ah! how, my dear, shall I deserve thy charms? What gift can bribe thee to my longing arms ? A bird for thee in silken bands I hold, Whose yellow plumage shines like polish'd gold ; From distant isles the lovely stranger came, And bears the fortunate Canaries' name; In all our woods none boasts so sweet a note, Not ev’n the nightingale’s melodious throat. Accept of this; and could I add beside What wealth the rich Peruvian mountains hide :
If all the gems in eastern rocks were mine,
“ But see ! in yonder glade the heavenly fair