LANQUET.

To Geron I my voice and fkill commend: Unbiafs'd, he to both is equal friend.

GERON.

Begin then, boys, and vary well your fong;
Nor fear, from Geron's upright fentence, wrong.
A boxen hautboy, loud, and sweet of found,
All_varnish'd, and with brazen ringlets bound,
I to the victor give: no small reward,
If with our ufual country pipes compar'd.

HOBBINOL.

The fnows are melted, and the kindly rain Defcends on ev'ry herb, and ev'ry grain; Soft balmy breezes breathe along the sky: The bloomy feason of the year is nigh.

LANQUET.

The cuckoo tells aloud her painful love;
The turtle's voice is heard in ev'ry grove:
The pastures change, the warbling linnets fing:
Prepare to welcome in the gaudy spring.

HOBBINOL.

When locufts in the fearny bushes cry,

When ravens pant, and snakes in caverns lie;
Then graze in woods, and quit the burning plain; ·
Elfe fhall ye prefs the fpungy teat in vain.

LANQUET.

When greens to yellow vary, and you fee
The ground beftrewed with fruits of ev'ry tree,
And ftormy winds are heard; think winter near,
Nor trust too far to the declining year.

HOBBINOL.

Full fain, O bleft Eliza! would I praise
Thy maiden rule, and Albion's golden days.
Then gentle Sidney liv'd, the fhepherd's friend:
Eternal bleffings on his shade attend!

LANQUET.

Thrice happy fhepherds now! for Dorfet loves
The country mufe, and our delightful groves,
While Anna reigns. O ever may she reign,
And bring on earth a golden age again!

HOBBINOL.

I love in fecret all a beauteous maid,
And have my love in fecret all repaid.
This coming night fhe does referve for me:
Divine her name; and thou the victor be.

LANQUET.

Mild as the lamb, and harmless as the dove,

True as the turtle, is the maid I love.
How we in fecret love, I fhall not fay :
Divine her name; and I give up the day.

HOBBINOL.

Soft, on a cowflip bank, my love and I Together lay: a brook ran murm'ring by. A thousand tender things to me she said, And I a thousand tender things repaid.

LANQUET.

In fummer fhade, beneath the cocking hay, What foft, endearing words did she not fay! Her lap, with apron deck'd, she kindly spread, And strok'd my cheeks, and lull'd my leaning head.

HOBBINOL.

HOBBINOL.

Breathe foft, ye winds; ye waters, gently flow;
Shield her, ye trees; ye flowers, around her grow;
Ye fwains, I beg you, pafs in filence by;

My love in yonder vale afleep does lie.

LANQUET.

Once Delia flept, on eafy mofs reclin'd,
Her lovely limbs half bare, and rude the wind:
I fmooth'd her coats, and stole a filent kifs.
Condemn me, fhepherds, if I did amifs.

HOBBINOL.

As Marian bath'd, by chance I paffed by;
She blush'd, and at me cast a fidelong eye:
Then swift beneath the crystal wave she try'd
Her beauteous form, but all in vain, to hide.

LANQUET.

As I, to cool me, bath'd one fultry day,
Fond Lydia lurking in the fedges lay:
The wanton laugh'd, and seem'd in hafte to fly,
Yet often stopp'd, and often turn'd her eye.

HOBBINOL.

When first I saw, would I had never seen!
Young Lyfet lead the dance on yonder green;
Intent upon her beauties as she mov'd,

Poor, heedlefs wretch, at unawares I lov❜d.

LANQUET.

When Lucy decks with flow'rs her fwelling breaft,
And on her elbow leans, diffembling reft;
Unable to refrain my madding mind,

Nor sheep nor pasture worth my care I find.

HOBBINOL.

Come, Rofalind, O come! for, without thee, What pleasure can the country have for me? Come, Rofalind, O come! my brinded kine, My fnowy sheep, my farm, and all is thine.

LANQUET.

Come, Rofalind, O come! here fhady bow'rs, Here are cool fountains, and here springing flow'cs. Come, Rofalind: here ever let us stay, And fweetly wafte our live-long time away.

HOBBINOL.

In vain the feasons of the moon I know, The force of healing herbs, and where they grow; There is no herb, no feason, may remove

From my fond heart the racking pains of love.

LANQUET.

What profits me, that I in charms have skill,
And ghofts and goblins order as I will;

Yet have, with all my charms, no pow'r to lay
The sprite, that breaks my quiet night and day?

HOBBINOL.

O that like Colin I had skill in rhymes, To purchase credit with fucceeding times! Sweet Colin Clout! who never yet had peer, Who fung thro' all the feasons of the

LANQUET.

year.

Let me like Wrenock fing: his voice had pow'r 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.

GERON

GERON.

Here end your pleasing ftrife. Both victors are;
And both with Colin may in rhyme compare.
A boxen hautboy, loud, and fweet of found,
All varnish'd, and with brazen ringlets bound,
To both I give. A mizzling mist descends
Adown that steepy rock; and this way tends
Yon diftant rain. Shore-ward the veffels ftrive;
And, fee, the boys their flocks to fhelter drive.

PHILIPS.

SE C T. CIX.

ON THE DIFFICULTIES WHICH MEN OF GENIUS HAVE TO STRUGGLE WITH.

A

I.

H! who can tell how hard it is to climb

The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar!

Ah! who can tell how many a foul fublime

Has felt the influence of malignant star,
And waged with Fortune an eternal war!

Check'd by the fcoff of Pride, by Envy's frown,
And Poverty's unconquerable bar,

In life's low vale remote has pined alone,

Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!
II.'

And yet the languor of inglorious days

Not equally oppreffive is to all.

Him, who ne'er liften'd to the voice of Praise,

The filence of Neglect can ne'er appal.