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Ah! Colin! thy hopes are in vain,
Thy pipe and thy laurel resign,
Thy false one inclines to a swain
Whose music is sweeter than thine.

All you, my companions so dear,
Who sorrow to see me betray'd,
Whatever I suffer, forbear,

Forbear to accuse the faise maid.

Though through the wide world I should range,
'Tis in vain from my fortune to fly;
"Twas hers to be false and to change,
'Tis mine to be constant and die.

If while my hard fate I sustain,
In her breast any pity is found,

Let her come with the nymphs of the plain,
And see me laid low in the ground:
The last humble boon that I crave,

Is to shade me with cypress and yew;
And when she looks down on my grave,
Let her own that her shepherd was true.

Then to her new love let her go,
And deck her in golden array;
Be finest at every fine show,

And frolic it all the long day:
While Colin, forgotten and gone,

No more shall be talked of or seen,
Unless when, beneath the pale moon,
His ghost shall glide over the green.

SONG.

To the brook and the willow that heard him complain,
Ah, willow! willow!

Poor Colin went weeping and told them his pain.
Sweet stream! he cry'd, sadly, I'll teach thee to flow,
And the waters shall rise to the brink with my woe.
All restless and painful my Celia now lies,

And counts the sad moments of time as it flies:

To the nymph, my heart's love, ye soft slumbers repair, Spread your downy wings o'er her and make her your care; Let me be left restless, mine eyes never close,

To the sleep that I lose give my dear one repose,

Sweet stream! if you chance by her pillow to creep,
Perhaps your soft murmurs may lull her to sleep.
But if I am doom'd to be wretched, indeed,

And the loss of my charmer the fates have decreed,
Believe me, thou fair one, thou dear one, believe,
Few sighs to thy loss, and few tears will I give;
One fate to thy Colin and thee shall betide,
And soon lay thy shepherd down by thy cold side.
Then glide, gentle brook, and to lose thyself haste,
Bear this to my willow; this verse is my last.

Ah, willow! willow! Ah, willow! willow!

ULYSSES.

LEARN to dissemble wrongs, to smile at injuries,
And suffer crimes thou want'st the power to punish:
Be easy, affable, familiar, friendly :

Search and know all mankind's mysterious ways,
But trust the secret of thy soul to none:

This is the way,

This only, to be safe in such a world as this is.

O love! how are thy precious, sweetest moments
Thus ever crossed, thus vex'd with disappointments!
Now pride, now fickleness, fantastic quarrels,
And sullen coldness, give us pain by turns;
Malicious meddling chance is ever busy
To bring us fears, disquiet and delays;
And ev'n at last, when, after all our waiting,
Eager we think to snatch the dear-bought bliss,
Ambition calls us to its sullen cares,
And honour, stern, impatient of neglect,
Commands us to forget our ease and pleasures,
As if we had been made for nought but toil,
And love were not the business of our lives.

TO MRS. A. D., WHILE SINGING.

WHAT charms in melody are found
To soften every pain!

How do we catch the pleasing sound,
And feel the soothing strain!

Still when I hear thee, O, my fair,
I bid my heart rejoice;

I shake off every sullen care,
For sorrow flies thy voice.