1 Thyrsis, a young and amorous swain, Saw two, the beauties of the plain; Who both his heart subdue: Gay Cælia's eyes were dazzling fair, Sabina's easy shape and air With softer magic drew. 2 He haunts the stream, he haunts the grove, Lives in a fond romance of love, And seems for each to die; Till each, a little spiteful grown, Sabina Cælia's shape ran down, And she Sabina's eye. 3 Their envy made the shepherd find Those eyes, which love could only blind; So set the lover free: No more he haunts the grove or stream, Or with a true-love knot and name Engraves a wounded tree. 4 Ah, Cælia! (sly Sabina cried) Though neither love, we're both denied; Now, to support the sex's pride, Let either fix the dart. Poor girl! (says Caelia) say no more; For should the swain but one adore, That spite which broke his chains before, Would break the other's heart. * * * * * SONG. 1 My days have been so wondrous free, The little birds that fly With careless ease from tree to tree, Were but as bless'd as I. 2 Ask gliding waters, if a tear Of mine increased their stream? Or ask the flying gales, if e'er I lent one sigh to them? 3 But now my former days retire, And I'm by beauty caught, The tender chains of sweet desire Are fix'd upon my thought. 4 Ye nightingales! ye twisting pines! Ye swains that haunt the grove! Ye gentle echoes! breezy winds! Ye close retreats of lore! 5 With all of Nature, all of Art, Assist the dear design; Oh teach a young, unpractised heart To make my Nancy mine. 6 The very thought of change I hate, As much as of despair; Nor ever covet to be great, Unless it be for her. 7 'Tis true, the passion in my mind Is mix'd with soft distress; Yet while the fair I love is kind, I cannot wish it less. * * * * * ANACREONTIC. When Spring came on with fresh delight, To cheer the soul, and charm the sight, While easy breezes, softer rain, And warmer suns salute the plain; 'Twas then, in yonder piny grove, That Nature went to meet with Love. Green was her robe, and green her wreath, Where'er she trod, 'twas green beneath; Where'er she turn'd, the pulses beat With new recruits of genial heat; 10 And in her train the birds appear, To match for all the coming year. Raised on a bank, where daisies grew, And violets intermix'd a blue, She finds the boy she went to find; A thousand pleasures wait behind, Aside a thousand arrows lie, But all, unfeather'd, wait to fly.