304:01,000[' ]| 304:01,001[A ]| Strephon, O Strephon, once the jolliest lad, 304:01,002[A ]| That with shrill pipe did ever mountain glad; 304:01,003[A ]| Whilom the foremost at our rural plays, 304:01,004[A ]| The pride and envy of our holidays: 304:01,005[A ]| Why dost thou now sit musing all alone, 304:01,006[A ]| Teaching the turtles, yet a sadder moan? 304:01,007[A ]| Swelled with thy tears, why does the neighbouring brook 304:01,008[A ]| Bear to the ocean, what she never took? 304:01,009[A ]| Thy flocks are fair and fruitful, and no swain, 304:01,010[A ]| Than thee, more welcome to the hill or plain. 304:01,011[B ]| I could invite the wolf, my cruel guest, 304:01,012[B ]| And play unmoved, while he on all should feast: 304:01,013[B ]| I could endure that every swain out-run, 304:01,014[B ]| Out-threw, out-wrestled, and each nymph should shun 304:01,015[B ]| The hapless Strephon. ~~ 304:01,016[A ]| Tell me then thy grief, 304:01,017[A ]| And give it, in complaints, some short relief. 304:01,018[B ]| Had killing mildews nipped my rising corn, 304:01,019[B ]| My lambs been all found dead, as soon as born; 304:01,020[B ]| Or raging plagues run swift through every hive, 304:01,021[B ]| And left not one industrious bee alive; 304:01,022[B ]| Had early winds, with an hoarse winter's sound 304:01,023[B ]| Scattered my ripening fruit upon the ground: 304:01,024[B ]| Unmoved, untouched, I could the loss sustain, 304:01,025[B ]| And a few days expired, no more complain. 304:01,026[A ]| Ere the sun drank of the cold morning-dew, 304:01,027[A ]| I've known thee early the tusked boar pursue: 304:01,028[A ]| Then in the evening drive the bear away, 304:01,029[A ]| And rescue from his jaws the trembling prey. 304:01,030[A ]| But now thy flocks creep feebly through the fields, 304:01,031[A ]| No purple grapes, thy half dressed vineyards yields: 304:01,032[A ]| No primrose nor no violets grace thy beds, 304:01,033[A ]| But thorns and thistles lift their prickly heads. 304:01,034[A ]| What means this change? 304:01,035[B ]| Inquire no more; 304:01,036[B ]| When none can heal, 'tis pain to search the sore; 304:01,037[B ]| Bright Galatea, in whose mateless face 304:01,038[B ]| Sat rural innocence, with heavenly grace; 304:01,039[B ]| In whose no less inimitable mind, 304:01,040[B ]| With equal light, even distant virtues shined; 304:01,041[B ]| Chaste without pride, and charming without art, 304:01,042[B ]| Honour the tyrant of her tender heart: 304:01,043[B ]| Fair goddess of these fields, who for our sports, 304:01,044[B ]| Though she might well become, neglected courts. 304:01,045[B ]| Beloved of all, and loving me alone, 304:01,046[B ]| Is from my sight, I fear, for*ever gone. 304:01,047[A ]| Thy case indeed is pitiful, but yet 304:01,048[A ]| Thou on thy loss too great a price dost set. 304:01,049[A ]| Women like days are Strephon, some be far 304:01,050[A ]| More bright and glorious than others are: 304:01,051[A ]| Yet none so gay, so temperate, so clear, 304:01,052[A ]| But that the like adorn the rolling year. 304:01,053[A ]| Pleasures imparted, to a friend increase, 304:01,054[A ]| Perhaps divided sorrow may grow less. 304:01,055[B ]| Others as fair, to other eyes may seem, 304:01,056[B ]| But she has all my love and my esteem: 304:01,057[B ]| Her bright idea wanders in my thought, 304:01,058[B ]| At once my poison, and my antidote. 304:01,059[A ]| Our hearts are paper, beauty is the pen, 304:01,060[A ]| Which writes our loves, and blots 'em out again. 304:01,061[A ]| Phillis is whiter than the rising swan, 304:01,062[A ]| Her slender waist confined within a span: 304:01,063[A ]| Charming as Nature's face in the new spring, 304:01,064[A ]| When early birds on the green branches sing. 304:01,065[A ]| When rising herbs and buds begin to hide, 304:01,066[A ]| Their naked mother, with their short-lived pride, 304:01,067[A ]| Chloe is ripe, and as the autumn fair, 304:01,068[A ]| When on the elm the purple grapes appear. 304:01,069[A ]| When trees, hedgerows, and every bending bush, 304:01,070[A ]| With ripening fruit, or tasteful berries blush, 304:01,071[A ]| Lydia is in the summer of her days, 304:01,072[A ]| What wood can shade us from her piercing rays? 304:01,073[A ]| Her even teeth, whiter than new yeaned lambs, 304:01,074[A ]| When they with tender cries pursue their dams. 304:01,075[A ]| Her eyes as charming as the evening-sun, 304:01,076[A ]| To the scorched labourer when work is done, 304:01,077[A ]| Whom the glad pipe, to rural sports invites, 304:01,078[A ]| And pays his toil with innocent delights. 304:01,079[A ]| On some of these fond swain fix thy desire, 304:01,080[A ]| And burn not with imaginary fire. 304:01,081[B ]| The stag shall sooner with the eagle soar, 304:01,082[B ]| Seas leave their fishes naked on the shore; 304:01,083[B ]| The wolf shall sooner by the lambkin die, 304:01,084[B ]| And from the kid the hungry lion fly, 304:01,085[B ]| Than I abandon Galatea's love, 304:01,086[B ]| Or her dear image from my thoughts remove. 304:01,087[A ]| Damon this evening carries home his bride, 304:01,088[A ]| In all the harmless pomp of rural pride: 304:01,089[A ]| Where, for two spotted lambkins, newly yeaned, 304:01,090[A ]| With nimble feet and voice, the nymphs contend: 304:01,091[A ]| And for a coat, thy Galatea spun, 304:01,092[A ]| The shepherds wrestle, throw the bar, and run. 304:01,093[B ]| At that dear name I feel my heart rebound, 304:01,094[B ]| Like the old steed, at the fierce trumpet's sound: 304:01,095[B ]| I grow impatient of the least delay, 304:01,096[B ]| No dastard swain shall bear the prize away. 304:01,097[A ]| Let us make haste, already they are met; 304:01,098[A ]| The echoing hills their joyful shouts repeat.