"Still I am wretched if no more you give; "The starving orphan can't on pity live; "He must receive the food for which he cries, "Or he consumes, and, tho' much pity'd, dies. "My torments still do with my passion grow; 150 "The more I love, the more I undergo : "But suffer me no longer to remain "Beneath the pressure of so vast a pain : My wound requires some speedy remedy; 155 "Much I've endur'd, much more than I can tell; "Too much, indeed, for one that loves so well. "When will the end of all my sorrows be? "Can you not love? I'm sure you pity me : "But if I must new miseries sustain, 160 “ And be condemn'd to more and stronger pain, "I'll not accuse you since my fate is such; "I please too little, and I love too much." "Strephon, no more,' the blushing Delia said; "Excuse the conduct of a tim'rous maid : 165 "Now I'm convinc'd your love's sublime and true, "Such as I always wish'd to find in you : "Each kind expression, ev'ry tender thought, "A mighty transport in my bosom wrought; "And tho' in secret I your flame approv'd, 170 I sigh'd and griev'd, but durst not own I lov'd: "Tho' now-O Strephon! be so kind to guess "What shame will not allow me to confess." The youth, encompass'd with a joy so bright, Had hardly strength to bear the vast delight: By too sublime an ecstacy possest, He trembled, gaz'd, and clasp'd her to his breast; Ador'd the nymph that did his pain remove, Vow'd endless truth and everlasting love. 175 179 ON THE DEATH OF QUEEN MARY. ANNO MDCXCIV. 5 As gentle Strephon to his fold convey'd II Cos. Do you not hear from far that mournful bell? 'Tis for-I cannot the sad tidings tell. Oh! whither are my fainting spirits fled! 'Tis for Celestia-Strephon, oh!—she's dead! 20 The brightest nymph, the princess of the plain, By an untimely dart untimely slain! STREPH. Dead! 'tis impossible! she cannot die! She's too divine, too much a deity: 'Tis a false rumour some ill swains have spread, 25 Who wish, perhaps, the good Celestia dead. Cos. Ah! no; the truth in ev'ry face appears, STREPH. Something was meant by that ill-bo- 36 4.0 Cos. Since then we have no trophies to bestow, No pompous things to make a glorious show, (For all the tribute a poor swain can bring, In rural numbers is to mourn and sing) Let us beneath the gloomy shade rehearse Celestia's sacred name in no less sacred verse. STREPH. Celestia dead! then 'tis in vain to live What's all the comfort that the plains can give, 45 Since she, by whose bright influence alone Our flocks increas'd, and we rejoic'd, is gone? Since she, who round such beams of goodness spread As gave new life to ev'ry swain, is dead? Cos. In vain we wish for the delightful spring; 50 What joys can flow'ry May or April bring, When she, for whom the spacious plains were spread With early flow'rs and chearful greens, is dead ? In vain did courtly Damon warm the earth, 55 STREPH. Farewell for ever then to all that's gay; You will forget to sing and I to play: 61 No more with cheerful songs, in cooling bow'rs, Shall we consume the pleasurable hours: All joys are banish'd, all delights are fled, Ne'er to return, now fair Celestia's dead! 65 Cos. If e'er I sing, they shall be mournful lays The humblest Muse with the sublimest fire. 75 79 STREPH. When her great Lord to foreign wars And left Celestia here to rule alone, [was gone, With how serene a brow, how void of fear, When storms arose, did she the vessel steer! E |