A PARAPHRASE ON THE LATTER PART OF THE SIXTH CHAPTER OF ST. MATTHEW. WHEN my breast labours with oppressive care, And o'er my cheek descends the falling tear; Think not, when worn the homely robe appears, Behold! and look away your low despair See the light tenants of the barren air: Nought, but the woodland, and the pleasing song; Yet, your kind heavenly Father bends his eye They neither toil, nor spin, but careless grow, If, ceaseless, thus the fowls of heaven he feeds; SONG. ONE day the god of fond desire, On mischief bent, to Damon said, The shepherd mark'd his treacherous art, The slave in private only bears Your bondage, who his love conceals; But when his passion he declares, You drag him at your chariot-wheels. SONG. HARD is the fate of him who loves, Yet dares not tell his trembling pain, But to the sympathetic groves, But to the lonely listening plain. Oh! when she blesses next your shade, Oh! when her footsteps next are seen In flowery tracks along the mead, VOL. 1. In fresher mazes o'er the green, T Ye gentle spirits of the vale, To whom the tears of love are dear, From dying lilies waft a gale, And sigh my sorrows in her ear. Oh tell her what she cannot blame, Though fear my tongue must ever bind; Oh tell her that my virtuous flame Not her own guardian angel eyes Not But if, at first, her virgin fear Should start at love's suspected name, With that of friendship sooth her earTrue love and friendship are the same. SONG. UNLESS with my Amanda blest, In vain I twine the woodbine bower; Unless to deck her sweeter breast, In vain I rear the breathing flower. Awaken'd by the genial year, In vain the birds around me sing; In vain the freshening fields appear: Without my love there is no spring. FOR SONG. ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove An unrelenting foe to love, And when we meet a mutual heart, Bid us sigh on from day to day, But busy busy still art thou, To bind the loveless joyless vow, For once, O Fortune! hear my prayer, And I absolve thy future care; All other blessings I resign, Make but the dear Amanda mine. SONG. COME, gentle god of soft desire, Come and possess my happy breast, Not Fury-like in flames and fire, Or frantic Folly's wildness drest; But come in Friendship's angel-guise: Yet dearer thou than friendship art, More tender spirit in thy eyes, More sweet emotions at the heart. |