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And stormy winds are heard, think winter near, Nor trust too far to the declining year.

HOBBINOL.

Woe, then, alack! befall the spendthrift swain, When frost, and snow, and hail, and sleet, and rain, By turns chastise him, while, through little care, His sheep, unshelter'd, pine in nipping air. 40

LANQUET. The lad of forecast then untroubled fees The white-bleak plains, and silvery froited trees: He fends his flock, and, clad in homely frize, In his warm cott the wintery blaft defies.

HOBBINOL.

Full fain, o bless'd Eliza! would I praise 45 Thy maiden-rule, and Albion's golden days: Then gentle Sidney liv'd, the shepherd's friend. Eternal blessings on his shade attend.

LANQUET. Thrice happy shepherds now! for Dorset loves The country-muse, and our resounding groves, While Anna reigns : O, ever may she reign! 51 And bring, on earth, the golden age again.

HOBBINOL.

I love, in secret all, a beauteous maid, And have my love, in secret all, repaid ;

This coming night she plights her troth to me:
Divine her name, and thou the victor be.

56

LANQUET.
Mild as the lamb, unharmful as the dove,
True as the turtle, is the maid I love :
How we in secret love, I shall not say:
Divine her name, and I give up the day.

60

HOBBINOL.

Soft on a cowslip-bank my love and I Together lay; a brook ran murmuring by: A thousand tender things to me she faid; And I a thousand tender things repaid.

LANQUET. In summer-shade, behind the cocking hay, 65 What kind endearing words did she not say! Her lap, with apron deck’d, she fondly spread, And strok'd my cheek, and lull'd my leaning head.

HOBBINOL.

Breathe soft, ye winds; ye waters, gently flow; Shield her, ye trees; ye flowers, around her grow: Ye swains, I beg you, pass in silence by; 71 My love, in yonder vale, asleep does lie.

LANQUET. Once Delia slept on easy moss reclin'd, Her lovely limbs half bare, and rude the wind: 1

I smooth'd her coats, and stole a filent kiss :
Condemn me, shepherds, if I did amiss.

75

HOBBINOL.

As Marian bath’d, by chance I passed by; She blush'd, and at me cast a fidelong eye: Then, cowering in the treacherous stream, she try'd Her tempting form, yet still in vain, to hide. 80

LANQUET. As I, to cool me, bath'd one sultry day, Fond Lydia, lurking, in the fedges lay: The wanton laugh’d, and seem'd in haste to fly, Yet oft she stopt, and oft she turn’d her eye.

HOBBINOL.

85

When first I saw, would I had never seen,
Young Lyset lead the dance on yonder green,
Intent upon her beauties, as she mov'd,
Poor heedless wretch! at unawares I lov'd.

LANQUET. When Lucy decks with flowers her swelling breast, And on her elbow leans, dissembling rest, 90 Unable to refrain my madding mind, Nor herds, nor pasture, worth my care I find.

HOBBINOL.

Come Rosalind, O come! for, wanting thee, Our peopled vale a desert is to me.

Come, Rosalind, O come! My brinded kine,
My snowy sheep, my farm, and all, are thine.

LANQUET. Come, Rosalind, o come! Here shady bowers, Here are cool fountains, and here springing flowers, Come, Rosalind ! Here ever let us stay, And sweetly waste the live-long time away.

100

HOBBINOL.

In vain the seasons of the moon I know, The force of healing herbs, and where they grow : No herb there is, no season, to remove From my fond heart the racking pains of love.

LANQUET. What profits me, that I in charms have skill, And ghosts, and goblins, order as I will, 106 Yet have, with all my charms, no power to lay The sprite that breaks my quiet night and day?

HOBBINOL.

IIO

O, that, like Colin, I had skill in rhimes, To purchase credit with succeeding times ! Sweet Colin Clout! who never, yet, had peer; Who sung through all the seasons of the year.

LANQUET. Let me, like Merlin, sing : his voice had power To free the 'clipfing moon at midnight hour :

And, as he fung, the fairies with their queen,
In mantles blue, came tripping o'er the green.

HOBBINOL.

Last eve of May did I not hear them fing,
And see their dance? And I can shew the ring,
Where, hand in hand, they shift their feet fo light:
The grass springs greener from their tread by night.

LANQUET.
But haft thou seen their king, in rich array,
Fam'd Oberon, with damask'd robe so

gay,
And gemmy crown, by moonshine sparkling far,
And azure scepter, pointed with a star?

GERON.

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Here end your pleasing strife. Both victors are;
And both with Colin may, in rhyme, compare.
A boxen hautboy, loud, and sweet of found,
All varnish'd, and with brazen ringlets bound,
To each I give. A mizling mist descends
Adown that feepy rock: and this way tends 130
Yon distant rain. Shoreward the vessels strive;
And, see, the boys their flocks to shelter drive.

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