Give to the flowers a livelier hue; Thy presence makes all nature gay. O lovely maid! when blest with you, Each season seems the month of May. The warblers now, with plaintive note, Seem to accord with ev’ry sigh; The shepherds have their songs forgot, And laid their pipes in silence by. Since thy retreat, O charming fair! Day after day my hopes destroy. O save Alexis from despair, And crown succeeding scenes with joy. _ALMEDA AND FLAVIA._ FLAVIA. While dusky shades eclipse the solar ray, And fanning zephyrs ’mong the branches play, Where varied beauties deck the verdant groves, Let us recount the story of our loves. Say, dear Almeda, why this pensive mood, Which does thy wonted cheerfulness exclude? ALMEDA. The cause of this to Flavia I’ll reveal: It is a youth whose power I can’t conceal. ’Tis Strephon, who long since obtain’d my heart, When artful Cupid gave the killing dart. When Strephon’s near, no anxious cares molest, Nor access find to my enraptur’d breast; But when he’s gone, his absence still I mourn, And spend my hours in sighs till he return. FLAVIA. You kindle into rapture at his name; Be wise in time, and guard against a flame, Which cherish’d, hopeless, will your charms efface, And rob your features of each blooming grace. The dear Castalia taught my heart to prove The soft’ning charms and pleasing art of love. Witness ye rural walks and verdant vales, How charm’d I’ve listen’d to his melting tales; While he, unskill’d in flatt’ry, did impart, In flowing strains, the dictates of his heart. Blind was my passion, long it bore the sway, Suppress’d at last by the enliv’ning ray Of Reason wak’d, by some celestial pow’r, To my relief, in an auspicious hour, With open’d eyes I did the charmer view; Deaf to his accents, from his presence flew. Observe, my precepts are with prudence fraught, What heart so stubborn would remain untaught? ALMEDA. Command the briny waves no more to flow, Bid southern breezes ever cease to blow; Say to the flowers, no more your fragrance yield, Nor Ceres crown with joy the fertile field; Bid Phœbus cease to gild the op’ning morn, And Cynthia be of all her beauty shorn: Would these obedient as thy vassals prove? No more can I, dear Flavia, cease to love. A youth possess’d of ev’ry moving art, Quick access gains to the securest heart. When he appears, to cheer the drooping plain, Each nymph enamour’d spends her sighs in vain: And when in softest strains he tunes his lay, Each shepherd, envious, throws his lute away. In him all radiant virtues are combin’d, True greatness centers in a humble mind; Truth, candour, justice, in his gen’rous breast, Firm fortitude and soft compassion rest. Nor can the gods on mortals more bestow, A bright example of their works below. Young Strephon’s charms, no tongue could e’er express; I may be silent, but can’t love him less. FLAVIA.