Poetical recreations consisting of original poems, songs, odes, &c. with several new translations : in two parts / part I, occasionally written by Mrs. Jane Barker, part II, by several gentlemen of the universities, and others.

A PASTORAL, In Imitation of VIRGIL's Second ECLOGUE.

A Lowly Swain lov'd a proud Nymph in vain, Who did the Country and the Fields disdain, Because the fairest of the City Train. The haughty She despis'd his humble Flame, And, soaring, flew at a more noble Game. Unheard, unseen, he daily came to mourn Near lonesome streams, and shades, her cruel scorn: And, while alone, he moan'd his luckless Love, His griefs ev'n senceless Trees and Rocks did move. The neighb'ring Hills with horrour seem'd to shake, While to himself ••hese raving words he spake:

Shall I, as others, to my Flocks complain, That I a cruel Beauty love in vain?

Shall I, with fruitless cries, disturb my Lambs, Or, with my quer'lous groans, a••••right their Dams? Their Dams, that strangers are to Lover's cares, And can enjoy their Loves without their Fears! No, let me here in secret pine away, And in sad objects read my Doom each day. Lo, through these Clifts a trav'lling Current glides, And little Rocks the purling streams divides. Ah! how well this resembles my sad Fate! My fruitless tears, and her unsoft'ning hate: For as these Rocks hard and unmov'd remain, And the clear stream but washes 'em in vain; So fall my Tears as unsuccessfully, Nor her hard stony Heart can mollifie: For still they run, unheeded as this Brook, Nor will she stop 'em by one pleasing look. Oh, cruel Nymph! why do'st thou thus delight To torture me? why thus my suff'rings ••light? My mournfull Songs neglected are by thee, Thou art regardless of my Verse, and me. Thou canst behold, with an unpittying Eye, My sorrows, and art pleas'd to see me dye.

Lo, now each Creature either rests, or feeds, And spotted Lyzards dance in shady weeds; All are imploy'd, and bonny Mall takes care, Dinners for weary Reapers to prepare: But I, by sa•• complaints, at noon am found, Making, with Grashoppers, the Shrubs resound. And while I trace thy wand'ring s••eps all day, Oppress'd wi••h heat of Love, my spirits decay, And by the Sun scorch't up I faint away. Had I not better far, contented, born Brown Amaryllis little peevish scorn, Whose lofty Soul, high Parents, and Descent, Against my Love had been no Argument? Or I had better far have lov'd black Bess, What though her Wealth and Beauty had been less; What though her Skin was of a tawny hew, And though as fair as whitest Lillies you. With her so long in vain I had not strove, But she would have rewarded Love with Love. Oh, beauteous Nymph, do not so much delight, Nor pride thy self that thou art sair and white; For whitest Blossoms most neglected fall, While the ripe Blackberry is pluck't by all:

But I am so despis'd, so scorn'd by thee, Thou dost not ev'n so much as ask of me, What stock I do of larger Cattel keep, How stor'd with Milk, or how inrich't with Sheep. My thousand Lambs wander on yonder Hills, 'Tis my large Flock th' adjacent Valley fills; Summer nor Winter my Kine ne'er are dry, But with new Milk my little House supply. If or my Verse or Musick could but prove, Of force enough to make my fair one love; I would oblige her with such Songs, such lays, As those with which Amphion in pristine days, Himself of old the Theban Walls did raise. Nor am I so deform'd to be despis'd, For I but lately with the Sea advis'd. When the still Winds did undisturbed sleep, Nor with their Rage wrinkled the smooth-fac'd Deep. And if that Image did not flatter me, I need not fear, though to be judg'd by thee, That I less handsome to your sight should prove, Then happy Citizens whom you so lov••. Oh that it necessary were for thee, To live in humble Cottages with me;

To hunt swift Deer, and with a verdant twig, To drive my Ewes, which with their young are big. And while my pretty Lambs in Pastures feed, To imitate our Pan upon a Reed: Nor let it grieve you that you wear away Your tender Lips upon my Pipes to play. This, if he were but half so blest to know, What would not the oblig'd Amyntas do? I have that Pipe which was bestow'd on me, By Swain Dametas; when he dy'd, said he, Accept this Pipe as the best Legacie. Dametas said it, but Amyntas griev'd, That I so great a present had receiv'd. But in an unsafe Vale I found besides Two tender Kids with pretty speckled Hides; They twice a day dreign a full Udder'd Sheep, And these for you with so much care I keep. Mall would long since have beg'd 'em both ••rom me, And she shall have 'em, since contemn'd by thee.

Come here, bright Maid, come hither charming fair, See what for thy reception Nymphs prepare;

See how they do adorn the shady Bow'rs; See how they gather all the sweetest Flow'rs. To make thee pleasant Garlands, see how they Prepare to crown thee, the bright Queen of May. Lo I my self have search't the Orchard round, To see where the best Apples may be found: Chesnuts and yellow Plums I've gather'd, such As once my Amaryllis lov'd so much. But here's an Apple that can all out-doe, Which I particularly pluck't for you. Some twigs of Lawrel from yon Tree I'll take, And Myrtle mix, the better scents to make; Which artsully into a Garland wove, With Flowers sweet shall crown my sweeter Love.

But all thy clownish Gifts unheeded are, Nor do's the Nymph for such a Bumpkin care. What Gifts of thine canst thou believe will take, Since City-Youths can so much richer make? Thy humble Presents fading are, and poor, Not lasting as their bright and shining Ore.

Alas, what shall I do? where find out Rest? Where ease the Burthens of my lab'ring Breast? I leave expos'd (distracted in my mind) My choicest Gardens to the Southern Wind. My clearest Fountains I preserve no more, From the unruly, and the nasty Boar. My tender Flocks by me neglected are, And are no more as once my only care. While I to Passion am, unguarded they To the devouring Wolf become a prey. Each day the Sun rises upon my Love; And still as that ascends, this do's improve. But when to Thetis Lap he goes to rest, I feel no quiet in my Tortur'd Breast. Unhappy Nymph, whom wouldst thou coyl•• shun? Ah, whither from a wretched Lover run? The greatest Heroes did of old, nay Gods Have chose to dwell in Sylvan Shades and Woods. Dardanian Paris lov'd the Verdant Plains, And liv'd most happy, while amongst the Swains. Pallas her self did Fields and Forrests love, And was delighted with the pleasant Grove;

And there, for her abode, built shady Bow'rs, And stately Palaces, and lofty Tow'rs. And therefore I so much prefer above The smoaky City, the delightfull Grove; And in these Shades how happy could I be, Disdainfull Nymph, wer't not for Love of thee: 'Tis that, 'tis that which thus my Rest destroys, 'Tis that that ruins all my rural Ioys; To thee I am so prone, so bent to thee, I cannot tast the least felicitie. Not ••lying Wolves by the fierce Lyoness, Are hotlier pursu'd; nor are Kids less Follow'd by chasing Wolves, nor can Kids be More fond of Cytisus than I of thee. All follow that in which they most delight, But you alone can my Desires invite.

Ah, foolish Swain, what ••renzy haunts thy mind? Canst thou no ease, no moderation ••ind? Will not thy Love one minutes rest allow? Behold the lab'ring Ox has left the Plow•• And now the Sun hasts to his Ev'ning bed, By low degrees still doubling ev'ry shade.

All Creatures now, with the expiring Light, Cease from their Toil, to sleep away the Night. Do's Love alone a cruel Master prove? Is there no end of the hard Tasks of Love? See how yon Vine untrim'd neglected lyes; What wilt thou ne'er repent? wilt ne'er be wise? Apply thy self to some more usefull thing, Which may a much more certain profit bring. Shake off for shame at last this fruitless Love, And wasting Time to better ends improve: Or if you needs must love, hereafter chuse Some gentler Nymph, who'll not your Love refuse.