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When I talk of my love, should I chance to espy

That she seems to mistiuft what I say,
By a tear that is ready to fall from her eye;

With my lips let me wipe it away.

If we fit, or we walk, may I caft round my eyes,

And let no single beauty escape;
But see none to create so much love and surprize,

As her eyes, and her face, and her shape.

Thus each day let ús pass, till the buds túrn to leaves,

And the meadows around us are mowni ;
When the lass on the sweet-smelling haycock receives

What the afterwards blushes to own.

When evenings grow cool, and the flow'řs hang their heads

With the dew, then no longer we'll roam;
With my arm round her waist, in a path thro' the meads;

Let us hasten to find our way home

When the birds are at rooft, with their heads in their wings,

Each one by the fide of it's mate;
When a mift that arises, a drowsiness brings

Upon all but the owl and the bat:

When soft rest is requir’d; and the stars lend their light,

And all nature lies quiet and still ;
When no found breaks the sacred repose of the night,

But, at distance, the clack of a mill:

With peace for our pillow, and free from all noise,

So that voices in whispers are known ;
Let us give and receive all the hameless soft joys

That are mus'd on by lovers alone.

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II. S U M M E R.

WHERE the light cannot pierce, in a grove of tall trees,

With my fair-one as blooming as May, Undisturb’d by all sound, but the sighs of the breeze,

Let me pass the hot noon of the day.

When the fun, less intense, to the westward inclines,

For the meadows the groves we'll forsake, And see the rays dance as inverted he shines,

On the face of some river or lake :



fairest and I, on it's verge as we pass, (For 'tis she that must still be my theme) Our two shadows may view on the watery glass,

While the fish are at play in the stream.

May the herds cease to low, and the lambkins to bleat,

When she sings me some amorous strain ; All be filent, and hufh'd, unless echo repeat

The kind words and sweet sounds back again

And when we return to our cottage at night,

Hand in hand as we fauntering stray,
Let the moon's filver beams thro' the leaves give us light,

Just direct us, and chequer our way.

Let the nightingale warble it's notes in our walk,

As thus gently and slowly we move;
And let no single thought be express'd in our talk,

But of friendship improv'd into love.

Thus enchanted each day with these rural delights,

And secure from ambition's alarms,
Soft love and repose shall divide all our nights,
And each morning shall rise with new charms,



T HO' the seasons mut alter, ah! yet let me find,

What all must confess to be rare,
A female fțill chearful, and faithful and kind,

The blessings of Autumn to share.

Let one side of our cottage, a flourishing vine

Overspread with it's branches and shade ; Whose clusters appear more transparent and fine,

As it's leaves are beginning to fade.

When the fruit makes the branches bend down with it's load,

In our orchard surrounded with pales;
In a bed of clean straw let our apples be stow'd,

For a tart that in winter regales.

When the vapours that rise from the earth in the morn

Seem to hang on it's surface like smoke,
Till dispers’d by the sun that gilds over the corn,

Within doors let us prattle and joke.

But when we see clear all the hues of the leaves,

And at work in the fields are all hands,
Some in reaping the wheat, others binding the sheaves,

Let us carelessly stroll o'er the lands.

How pleasing the fight of the toiling they make,

To collect what kind Nature has sent !
Heaven grant we may not of their labour partake;

But, oh! give us their happy content.

And sometimes on a bank, under shade, by a brook,

Let us filently fit at our ease,
And there gaze on the stream, till the fish on the hook
Struggles hard to procure it's release.

D d 2.


And now, when the husbandman fings harveft-home,

And the corn's all got into the house;
When the long with’d-for time of their meeting is come,

To frolick, and feast, and carouse

When the leaves from the trees are begun to be shed,

And are leaving the branches all bare,
Either strew'd at the roots, Thrivell?d, wither’d, and dead.

Or elfe blown to and fro in the air :

When the ways are fo miry, that bogs they might seem,

And the axle-tree's ready to break,
While the waggoner whistles in stopping his team, ,

And then claps the poor jades on the neck:

In the morning let's follow the cry of the hounds,

Or the fearful young covey beset;
Which tho' (kulking in stubble and weeds on the grounds,

Are becoming a prey to the net.

Let's enjoy all the pleasure retirement affords,

Still amus?d with these innocent sports,
Nor once envy the pomp of fine ladies and lords,

With their grand entertainments in courts.

In the ev'ning, when lovers are leaning on styles,

Deep engag'd in some amorous chat,
And 'tis very well known by his grin and her smiles,
What they both have a mind to be

at :

To our dwelling, tho? homely, well-pleas?d to repair,

Let our mutual endearments revive ;
And let no fingle action or look but declare,

How contented and happy we live..

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Should ideas arise that may ruffle the soul,

Let soft mufick the phantoms remove; For 'tis harmony only has force to controul,

And unite all the paffions in love.

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With her eyes but half opeş, her cap all'awry,

When the lass is preparing for bed,
And the sleepy dull clown, who fits nodding just by

Sometimes rouses and scratches his head :

In the night when 'tis cloudy, and rainy, and dark,

And the labourers snore as they lie,
Not a noise to disturb us, unless a dog bark

In the farm, or the village hard by:

At the time of fweet reft, and of quiet like this,
Ere our eyes are



in their lids, Let us welcome the season, and taste of that bliss

Which the sun-line and day-light forbids !


WHEN the trees are all bare, not a leaf to be seen,

And the meadows their beauty have loft ; When Nature's difrob'd of her mantle of green,

And the streams are faft bound with the frost :

While the peafant inactive stands shivering with cold,

As bleak the winds northernly blow;
And the innocent flocks run for warmth to the fold,

With their feeçes besprinkled with fnow :

In the yard, when the cattle are fodder'd with straw,

And they send forth their breath in a steam ;
And the neat-looking dairy-maid sees she must thaw

Flakes of ice that she finds in the cream :


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