For Chloe I burnt with an innocent flame,
And beat to the music that breath'd out her name;
Three summers flew over the castles I built,
And beheld me a fool, and my goddess a jilt.

"Next Thais, the wanton, my wishes employ'd,
And the kind one repair'd what the cruel destroy'd:
Like Shadrach, I liv'd in a furnace of fire,
But, unlike him, was scorch'd and compell'd to retire.
"Recruited once more, I forgot all my pain,
And was jilted, and burnt, and bedevil'd again;
Not a petticoat fring'd, or the heel of a shoc,
Ever pass'd you by day-light, but at it I flew.

"Thus jilted, and wounded, and burnt to a coal,
For rest I retreated again to be whole;
But your eyes, ever open to lead me astray,
Have beheld a new face, and command me away.

"But remember, in whatever flames I may burn, "Twill be folly to ask for, or wish my return: Neither Thais, nor Chloe, again shall inflame, But a nymph more provoking than all you can name."

This said, with a bound from my bosom he flew ; O, Phyllis! these eyes saw him posting to you; Enslav'd by your wit, he grows fond of his chain, And vows I shall never possess him again.

COLLIN.

O'er hill, dale, and valley, my Phebe and I
Together will wander, and love shall be by:
Her Collin shall guard her safe all the long day,
And Phebe at night all his pains shall repay.

PHEBE.

By moonlight, when shadows glide over the plain, His kisses shall cheer me, his arm shall sustain; The dark haunted grove I can trace without fear, Or sleep in a church-yard, if Collin is near.

BOTH.

'Tis love, like the Sun, &c.

COLLIN.

Ye shepherds that wanton it over the plain,
How fleeting your transports, how lasting your pain!
Inconstancy shun, and reward the kind she,
And learn to be happy of Phebe and me.

PHEBE.

Ye nymphs, who the pleasures of love never try'd, Attend to my strains, and take me for your guide; Your hearts keep from pride and inconstancy free, And learn to be happy of Collin and me.

BOTH.

"Tis love, like the Sun, that gives light to the year,
The sweetest of blessings that life can endear;
Our pleasures it brightens, drives sorrow away,
Gives joy to the night, and enlivens the day.

Kind love shall repay the fatigues of the day, And melt us to softer alarms;

Coy Phillis shall burn at her soldier's return, And bless the brave youth in her arms.

CHORUS.

The rebels shall fly, as with shouts we draw nigh,
And Echo shall victory ring;
Then safe from alarms, we'll rest on our arms,
And chorus it, long live the king!

SONG VI.

To make the wife kind, and to keep the house still, You must be of her mind, let her say what she will; In all that she does you must give her her way, For tell her she 's wrong, and you lead her astray.

CHORUS.

Then, husbands, take care, of suspicion beware,
Your wives may be true, if you fancy they are;
With confidence trust them, and be not such elves,
As to make by your jealousy horns for yourselves.
Abroad all the day if she chooses to roam,
Seem pleas'd with her absence, she'll sigh to come
home;

The man she likes best, and longs most to get at,
Be sure to commend, and she 'll hate him for that.

CHORUS. Then, husbands, &c.

What virtues she has, you may safely oppose, Whatever her follies are, praise her for those; Applaud all her schemes that she lays for a man, For accuse her of vice, and she 'll sin if she can.

CHORUS.

Then, husbands, take care, of suspicion beware, Your wives may be true, if you fancy they are; With confidence trust them, and be not such elves, As to make by your jealousy horns for yourselves.

SONG VII.

DAMON.

HARK, hark, o'er the plains how the merry bells
Asleep while my charmer is laid!
[ring,
The village is up, and the day on the wing,
And Phillis may yet die a maid.

PHILLIS.

Tis hardly yet day, and I cannot away,

O, Damon, I'm young and afraid; To morrow, my dear, I'll to church without fear, .But let ine to night lie a maid.

DAMON.

The bridemaids are met, and mamma's on the fret,
All, all my coy Phillis upbraid;
Come open the door, and deny me no more,
Nor cry to live longer a maid.

PHILLIS.

Dear shepherd, forbear, and to morrow I swear,
To morrow I'll not be afraid;
I'll open the door, and deny you no more,
Nor cry to live longer a maid.

DAMON.

No, no, Phillis, no, on that bosom of snow
To night shall your shepherd be laid;
By morning my dear shall be eas'd of her fear,
Nor grieve she's no longer a maid.

PHILLIS.

Then open the door, 'twas unbolted before, His bliss silly Damon delay'd;

To church let us go, and if there I say no, O then let me die an old maid.

SONG VIII.

THAT Jenny's my friend, my delight, and my pride,
I always have boasted, and seek not to hide;
I dwell on her praises wherever I go,
They say I'm in love, but I answer no, no.

At ev'ning oft-times with what pleasure I see
A note from her hand, "I'll be with you at tea!"
My heart how it bounds, when I hear her below!
But say not 'tis love, for I answer no, no.

She sings me a song, and I echo each strain,
Again I cry, Jenny! sweet Jenny, again!
I kiss her soft lips, as if there I could grow,
And fear I'm in love, though I answer no, no.
She tells me her faults, as she sits on my knee,
I chide her, and swear she's an angel to me:
My shoulder she taps, and still bids me think so;
Who knows but she loves, though she tells me, no
no?

Yet such is my temper, so dull am I grown,

I ask not her heart, but would conquer my own: Her bosom's soft peace shall I seek to o'erthrow, And wish to persuade, while I answer no, no? From beauty, and wit, and good-humour, ah! why Should prudence advise, and compel me to fly? Thy bounties, O Fortune! make haste to bestow, And let me deserve her, or still I say no.

SONG IX.

You tell me I'm handsome, I know not how true,
And easy, and chatty, and good-humour'd too;
That my lips are as red as the rose-bud in June,
And my voice, like the nightingale's, sweetly in
tune:

All this has been told me by twenty before,
But he that would win me, must flatter me more.

If beauty from virtue receive no supply,
Or prattle from prudence, how wanting am I!
My ease and good-humour short raptures will bring,
And my voice, like the nightingale's, know but a
spring.

For charms such as these then, your praises give o'er,
To love me for life, you must love me for more.

Then talk to me not of a shape or an air,
For Chloe, the wanton, can rival me there:
'Tis virtue alone that makes beauty look gay,
And brightens good-humour, as sunshine the day;
For that if you love me, your flame shall be true,
And I, in my turn, may be taught to love too.

SONG X.

How blest has my time been, what days have I known,

Since wedlock's soft bondage made Jesse my own!
So joyful my heart is, so easy my chain,
That freedom is tasteless, and roving a pain.

Through walks, grown with woodbines, as often we stray,

Around us our boys and girls frolic and play; How pleasing their sport is the wanton ones see, And borrow their looks from my Jesse and me.

To try her sweet temper sometimes am I seen
In revels all day with the nymphs of the green;
Though painful my absence, my doubts she beguiles,
And ineets me at night with compliance and smiles.

What though on her cheek the rose loses its hue, Her ease and good-humour bloom all the year through;

Time still as he flies brings increase to her truth, And gives to her mind what he steals from her youth.

Ye shepherds so gay, who make love to ensnare, And cheat with false vows the too credulous fair, In search of true pleasure how vainly you roam! To hold it for life, you must find it at home.

SONG XI.

HARK! hark! 'tis a voice from the tomb ! "Come, Lucy," it cries, "come away! The grave of thy Collin has room,

To rest thee beside his cold clay."
"I come, my dear shepherd, I come;
Ye friends and companions, adieu;
I haste to my Collin's dark home,
To die on his bosom so true."

All mournful the midnight bell rung,
When Lucy, sad Lucy arose;
And forth to the green-turf she sprung,
Where Collin's pale ashes repose.
All wet with the night's chilling dew,
Her bosom embrac'd the cold ground,
While stormy winds over her blew,

And night-ravens croak'd all around.

"How long, my lov'd Collin," she cry'd,

"How long must thy Lucy complain? How long shall the grave my love hide? How long ere it join us again? For thee thy fond shepherdess liv'd,

With thee o'er the world would she fly, For thee has she sorrow'd and griev'd, For thee would she lie down and die.

"Alas! what avails it how dear

Thy Lucy was once to her swain! Her face like the lily so fair,

And eyes that gave light to the plain! The shepherd that lov'd her is gone,

That face and those eyes charm no more, And Lucy forgot and alone,

To death shall her Collin deplore."

AIR.

Tell me, lovely shepherd, where

Thou feed'st at noon thy fleecy care?
Direct me to the sweet retreat,

That guards thee from the mid-day heat:
Lest by the flocks I lonely stray,
Without a guide, and lose my way:
Where rest at noon, thy bleating care,
Gentle shepherd, tell me where?

AIR.

HE. Fairest of the virgin throng, Dost thou seek thy swain's abode ? See yon fertile vale along

The new-worn path the flocks have trod: Pursue the prints their feet have made, And they shall guide thee to the shade.

RECITATIVE.

SHE. As the rich apple, on whose boughs Ripe fruit with streaky beauty glows, Excels the trees that shade the grove, So shines, among his sex, my love.

AIR.

Beneath his ample shade I lay,
Defended from the sultry day;
His cooling fruit my thirst assuag'd,

And quench'd the fires that in me rag'd;
Till sated with the luscious taste,
I rose and blest the sweet repast.

RECITATIVE.

He. Who quits the lily's fleecy white, To fix on meaner flow'rs the sight? Or leaves the rose's stem untorn, To crop the blossom from the thorn? Unrival'd thus thy beauties are ; So shines my love among the fair.

AIR.

Balmy sweetness, ever flowing,

From her dropping lips distils; Flowers on her cheeks are blowing, And her voice with music thrills. Zephyrs o'er the spices flying,

Wafting sweets from every tree, Sick'ning sense with odours cloying, Breathe not half so sweet as she.

RECITATIVE.

SHE. Let not my prince his slave despise, Or pass me with unheeding eyes. Because the Sun's discolouring rays Have chas'd the lily from my face, My envious sisters saw my bloom, And drove me from my mother's home; Unshelter'd all the scorching day They made me in their vineyard stay.

AIR.

Ah simple me! my own, more dear,
My own, alas! was not my care:
Invading Love the fences broke,
And tore the clusters from the stock,
With eager grasp the fruit destroy'd,
Nor rested, till the ravage cloy'd.

AIR.

Hr. Fair and comely is my love,
And softer than the blue-ey'd dove;
Down her neck the wanton locks
Bound like the kids on Gilead's rocks;
Her teeth like flocks in beauty seem,
New shorn, and dropping from the stream;
Her glowing lips by far outvie

The plaited threads of scarlet dye;
Whene'er she speaks the accents wound,
And music floats upon the sound.

RECITATIVE.

SHE. Forbear, O charming swain, forbear! Thy voice enchants my list'ning ear; And while I gaze, my bosom glows, My flutt'ring heart with love o'erflows, The shades of night hang o'er my eyes, And every sense within me dies.

AIR.

O fill with cooling juice the bowl!
Assuage the fever in my soul !
With copious draughts my thirst remove,
And sooth the heart that's sick of love.

PART II.

RECITATIVE.

HE. The cheerful Spring begins to day; Arise, my fair-one, come away!

RECITATIVE.

SHE. Sweet music steals along the airHark! -my beloved's voice I hear!

AIR.

HE. Arise, my fair, and come away, The cheerful Spring begins to day: Bleak Winter's gone with all his train Of chilling frosts, and dropping rain. Amidst the verdure of the mead The primrose lifts her velvet head: The warbling birds, the woods among, Salute the season with a song: The cooing turtle in the grove Renews his tender tale of love: The vines their infant tendrils shoot: The fig-tree bends with early fruit: All welcome in the genial ray: Arise, my fair, and come away!

CHORUS.

All welcome in the genial ray, Arise, O fair one, come away!

DUET.

Together let us range the fields,

Impearled with the morning dew; Or view the fruits the vineyard yields, Or the apple's clust'ring bough: There in close-embower'd shades. Impervious to the noon-tide ray, By tinkling rills, on rosy beds,

We'll love the sultry hours away.