WILLIAM COLLINS
No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove;
But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love.
No wither'd witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew;
The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew.
The redbreast oft at evening hours Shall kindly knd his little aid,
With hoary moss, and gathered flowers, To deck the ground where thou art laid.
When howling winds, and beating rain, In tempests shake thy sylvan cell ,
Or 'midst the chase, on every plain,
The tender thought on thee shall dwell ;
Each lonely scene shall thce restore, For thec the tear be duly shed;
Beloved, till life can charm no more, And mourn'd, till Pity's self be dead.
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��MARK AKENSIDE Amoret
F rightly tuneful bards decide, If it be fix'd in Love's decrees, That Beauty ought not to be tried
But by its native power to please, Then tell me, youths and lovers, tell What fair can Amoret excel?
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