And at once from our view Then, like a shadow, fled Our childhood and its joys, but new, Love gave us his instead. THE TIMID LOVER. In the sharp pains the tyrant Love Since first I saw thee made me feel, To thee a thousand times above, I come those pains to heal, My village girl! but soon as nigh To thee I find my way, If e’er so bold to be I try, I know not what to say. My voices fail, and mournful sighs, Malicious phrenzy watching o’er, The place of them alone supplies; While mocks my efforts more The traitor god, when anxious by My thoughts to speak I pray; If e’er so bold to be I try, I know not what to say. Then feels his fire so strong my soul, Meseems to die my only fate, My tears in torrents freely roll, And with deep groanings wait, To move thy feeling heart’s reply; But vainly, all astray, If e’er so bold to be I try, I know not what to say. I know not what, in trembling fear, That seals my lips, as yet to learn A foolish hope, thou mayst ev’n here My hapless love discern. I feel I must for ever fly From thy side far away; If e’er so bold to be I try, I know not what to say. Alas! if thou couldst, my adored! But hear those sighs, and thoughts express’d, What happiness ’twould me afford! I should be, Phyllis, blest. But woe is me! beneath thine eye, To sink in mock’d dismay, If e’er so bold to be I try, I know not what to say. MY VILLAGE LIFE. When able happily am I To my poor village to escape, From all the city’s noise to fly, And cares of every shape; Like a new man my spirits give Me then to feel, in joyous link; For only then I seem to live, And only then to think. The insufferable hours that there In weariness to me return’d, Now on a course so gently bear, Their flight is scarce discern’d. The nights that there in sloth and play Alone their occupations keep, Here with choice books I pass away, And in untroubled sleep. With the first dawn I wake, to change Rejoiced the soft bed’s balmy rest, Through the life-giving air to range, That free dilates the breast. It pleases me the heavens to view, O’erspread with red and golden glows, When first his lustres to renew, His splendours Phœbus shows. It pleases me, when bright his rays, Above the zenith fiery shine, To lose me in the thick wood’s maze, And in their shade recline. When languidly he hides his head, In last reflection, even then The mountain heights I eager tread, To follow him again. And when the night its mantle wide Extends around of beaming lights, Their motions, measuring as they glide, My watchful eye recites.