34
PASTORALS.
Of season'd elm, where studs of brass appear,
To speak the giver's name, the month, and year; 148
The hook of polish'd steel, the handle torn'd,
And richly by the carver's skill adorn'd.
To speak the giver's name, the month, and year; 148
The hook of polish'd steel, the handle torn'd,
And richly by the carver's skill adorn'd.
O, Colinet, how sweet thy grief to hear!
How does thy verse subdue the listening ear! 152
Soft falling as the still, refreshing, dew,
To slake the drought, and herbage to renew:
Not half so sweet the midnight winds, which move
In drousy murmurs o'er the waving grove, 156
Nor valley brook that, hid by alders, speeds
O'er pebbles warbling, and through whisp'ring reeds,
Nor dropping waters, which from rocks distil,
And welly grots with tinkling echoes fill. 160
Thrice happy Colinet, who can relieve
Heart-anguish sore, and make it sweet to grieve!
And next to thee shall Myco bear the bell,
Who can repeat thy peerless song so well: 164
But see! the hills increasing shadows cast;
The sun, I ween, is leaving us in haste:
His weakly rays faint glimmer through the wood,
And bluey mists arise from yonder flood. 168
How does thy verse subdue the listening ear! 152
Soft falling as the still, refreshing, dew,
To slake the drought, and herbage to renew:
Not half so sweet the midnight winds, which move
In drousy murmurs o'er the waving grove, 156
Nor valley brook that, hid by alders, speeds
O'er pebbles warbling, and through whisp'ring reeds,
Nor dropping waters, which from rocks distil,
And welly grots with tinkling echoes fill. 160
Thrice happy Colinet, who can relieve
Heart-anguish sore, and make it sweet to grieve!
And next to thee shall Myco bear the bell,
Who can repeat thy peerless song so well: 164
But see! the hills increasing shadows cast;
The sun, I ween, is leaving us in haste:
His weakly rays faint glimmer through the wood,
And bluey mists arise from yonder flood. 168
Myсо.
