1 Ye gentle Nymphs and generous Dames,
That rule o'er every British mind!
Be sure ye soothe their amorous flames,
Be sure your laws are not unkind:
2 For hard it is to wear their bloom
In unremitting sighs away;
To mourn the night's oppressive gloom,
And faintly bless the rising day.
3 And cruel 'twere a freeborn swain,
A British youth, should vainly moan;
Who, scornful of a tyrant's chain,
Submits to yours, and yours alone.
4 Nor pointed spear, nor links of steel,
Could e'er those gallant minds subdue,
Who Beauty's wounds with pleasure feel,
And boast the fetters wrought by you.
{ set to Jago 1747 - "The book"
1 Go, tuneful Bird! that gladd'st the skies,
To Daphne's window speed thy way;
And there on quivering pinions rise,
And there thy vocal art display.
2 And if she deign thy notes to hear,
And if she praise thy matin song,
Tell her the sounds that soothe her ear,
To Damon's native plains belong.
to sumple Britists brids belong.
3 Tell her, in livelier plumes array'd,
The bird from Indian groves may shine;
But ask the lovely, partial maid,
What are his notes compared to thine!
4 Then bid her treat yon witless beau,
motley
And all his flaunting race with scorn;
ular disuring And lend an ear to Damon's woe,
Who sings her praise, and sings forlorn.
Ah! ego non aliter tristes evincere morbos
Optarem, quam te sic quoque velle putem.
1 On every tree, in every plain,
I trace the jovial spring in vain ;
A sickly langour veils mine eyes,
And fast my waning vigour flies.
2 Nor flowery plain, nor budding tree,
That smile on others, smile on me;
Mine eyes from death shall court repose,
Nor shed a tear before they close.
3 What bliss to me can seasons bring?
Or what the needless pride of spring? |
The cypress bough, that suits the bier,
Retains its verdure all the year.
4 "Tis true, my vine, so fresh and fair,
Might claim awhile my wonted care;
My rural store some pleasure yield,
So white a flock, so green a field!
5 My friends, that each in kindness vie,
Might well expect one parting sigh;
Might well demand one tender tear;
For when was Damon insincere ?
6 But ere I ask once more to view
Yon setting sun his race renew,
Inform me, Swains! my friends, declare,
Will pitying Delia join the prayer?
1 Yes; Fulvia is like Venus fair,
Has all her bloom, and shape, and air;
But still, to perfect every grace,
She wants the smile upon her face.
2 The crown majestic Juno wore;
And Cynthia's brow the crescent bore;
An helmet mark'd Minerva's mien;
But smiles distinguish'd Beauty's queen.
3 Her train was form'd of Smiles and Loves;
Her chariot drawn by gentlest doves;
And from her zone, the nymph may find
Tis Beauty's province to be kind.
4 Then smile, my Fair! and all, whose aim
Aspires to paint the Cyprian dame,
Or bid her breathe in living stone,
Shall take their forms from you alone.
1 When bright Roxana treads the green,
In all the pride of dress and mien,
Averse to freedom, love, and play,
The dazzling rival of the day;
None other beauty strikes mine eye,
The lilies droop, the roses die.
2 But when, disclaiming art, the fair
Assumes a soft engaging air;
Mild as the opening morn of May,
Familiar, friendly, free and gay,
The scene improves where'er she goes,
More sweetly smile the pink and rose.
3 O lovely Maid! propitious hear,
Nor deem thy shepherd insincere ;
Pity a wild illusive flame,
That varies objects still the same;
And let their very changes prove
The never-varied force of love.
1 "Tis said that under distant skies.
Nor you the fact deny,
What first attracts an Indian's eyes
Becomes his deity.
2 Perhaps a lily, or a rose,
That shares the morning's ray,
May to the waking swain disclose
The regent of the day.
3 Perhaps a plant in yonder grove,
Enrich'd with fragrant power,
May tempt his vagrant eyes to rove
Where blooms the sovereign flower.
4 Perch'd on the cedar's topmost bough, And gay with gilded wings, Perchance, the patron of his vow, Some artless linnet sings.
5 The swain surveys her pleased, afraid, Then low to earth he bends;
And owns, upon her friendly aid,
His health, his life depends.
6 Vain futile idols, bird or flower,
To tempt a votary's prayer!
How would his humble homage tower
Should he behold my fair!
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