Ah! nere, my fon, let Lycon thee enthrall," Reply'd the fage, in wife experience old;

Smooth is his tongue, but full of guile withal, In promife faithlefs, and in vaunting bold:. * Ne ever lamb of his will bleat within thy fold.

With words prophetick thus Euphormius spake:
And fact confirm'd what wisdom thus foretold.
Full many a mean devife did Lycon make,
The hoped day of spousal to with-hold,

Framing new trains when nought mote ferve his old.
Nath'lefs he vow'd, Cyllene cloud-topt hill

Should fooner down the lowly delve be roll'd,
Than he his plighted promise nould fulfil:
But when, perdy, or where, the caitive fayen nill.

Whiles thus the tedious funs had journey'd round,
Ne ought mote now the lovers hearts divide,
Ne truft was there, ne truth in Lycon found;
The maid with matron Juno for her guide,
The youth by Concord led, in fecret hy'd

To Hymen's facred fane: the honeft deed.

Each god approv'd, and close the bands were ty'd;
Certes, till happier moments fhould fucceed,
No prying eyne they ween'd their emprize mote areed.

But prying eyne of Lycon 'twas in vain

(Right practick in difguife) to hope beware. He trac'd their covert fteps to Hymen's fane, And joy'd to find them in his long-laid fnare. Algates, in semblaunt ire, he 'gan to swear, And roaren loud as in difpleafaunce high ;

Then out he hurlen forth his daughter fair, Forelore, the houfelefs child of Mifery, Expos'd to killing cold, and pinching penury.

2

Ah!

Ah! whither now shall fad Paftora wend,

To want abandon'd and by wrongs opprefs'd? Who fhall the wretched out-caft's teen befriend?

Lives Mercy then, if not in parent's breast? Yes, Mercy lives, the gentle goddess blefs'd, At Jove's right-hand, to Jove for ever dear;

Aye at his feet fhe pleads the cause diftrefs'd, To forrow's plaints fhe turns his equal ear,

And wafts to heaven's star-throne fair Virtue's filent tear.

'Twas SHE that bade Euphormius quell each thought,
That well mote rife to check his generous aid :
Tho' high the torts which Lycon him had wrought,
Tho' few the flocks his humble paftures fed,
When as he learn'd Paftora's hapless fted,
His breast humane with wonted pity flows;
He op'd his gates, the naked exile led
Beneath his roof, a decent drapet throws
O'er her cold limbs, and foothes her undeserved woes.

Now loud-tongu'd Rumor bruited round the tale;
Th' aftonied fwains uneath could credence give,
That in Arcadia's unambitious vale

A faytor falfe as Lycon e'er did live:

But Jove (who in high heaven does mortals prive,
And every deed in golden ballance weighs)
To earth his flaming charret baden drive,
And down defcends, enwrapt in peerless blaze,
To deal forth guerdon meet to good and evil ways.

Where Eurymanthus, crown'd with many a wood,

His filver ftream through daify'd vales does lead, Stretch'd on the flowery marge, in reckless mood, Proud Lycon fought by charm of jocund reed

To lull the dire remorfe of tortious deed;
Him Jove accofts, in reverend femblaunce dight
Of good Euphormius, and 'gan mild areed
Of compact oft confirm'd, of fay yplight,
Of nature's tender tye, of facred rule of right.

With lofty eyne, half loth to look fo low,
Him Lycon view'd, and with fwol'n furquedry
'Gan rudely treat his facred eld; when now
Forth stood the God confefs'd that rules the sky,
In fudden fheen of drad divinity:

And Know, falfe man," the lord of thunders faid,

• Not unobferv'd by Heaven's all-perfent eye

Thy cruel deeds; nór shall be unappay'd.

Go! be in form that beft befeems thy thews, array'd.'

Whiles yet he fpake th' affrayed trembling wight
Tranfmew'd to blatant beast, with hideous how!
Rush'd headlong forth, in well-deserved plight,
'Midft dragons, minotaurs, and fiends, to prowl;
A wolf in form, as erft a wolf in foul!
To Pholoë, foreft wild, he hy'd away,

The horrid haunt of favage monfters foul:
There helpless innocence is ftill his prey,

Thief of the bleating fold, and fhepherd's dire difsmay.

Tho' Jove to good Euphormius' cot did wend,
Where peaceful dwelt the man of virtue high,
Each fhepherd's praise, and eke each fhepherd's friend,
In every act of fweet humanity;

Him Jove approaching in mild majesty,

Greeted all hail! then bade him join the throng

Of glitt'rand lights that gild the glowing sky: There fhepherd's nightly view his orb yhong,

Where bright he fhines eterne, the brighteft ftars emong.

F

LOVE ELEGIES.

BY MR. HAMMOND.

ELEGY I.

AREWEL that liberty our fathers

gave;

In vain they gave, their fons receiv'd in vain!

I faw Neæra; and, her inftant flave,

Tho' born a Briton, hugg'd the servile chain.

Her ufage well repays my coward heart!
Meanly fhe triumphs in her lover's fhame;
No healing joy relieves his conítant fmart,

No fmile of love rewards the lofs of fame.

Oh! that, to feel these killing pangs no more,
On Scythian hills I lay, a fenfeless stone!

Was fix'd a rock amidst the wat❜ry roar,
And in the vast Atlantick ftood alone!

Adieu, ye Mufes-or my paffion aid;
Why should I loiter by your idle spring?
My humble voice would move one only maid,
And she contemns the trifles which I fing!

I do not ask the lofty Epick strain,

Nor strive to paint the wonders of the sphere:
I only fing one cruel maid to gain-
Adieu, ye Mufes, if the will not hear!

No more in useless innocence I'll pine:

Since guilty presents win the greedy fair, I'll tear it's honours from the broken fhrine; But chiefly thine, O Venus, will I tear.

Deceiv'd by thee, I lov'd a beauteous maid,
Who bends on fordid gold her low defires :
Nor worth nor paffion can her heart perfuade,
But love must act what avarice requires!

Unwife, who firft (the charm of nature loft)
With Tyrian purple foil'd the fnowy sheep;
Unwifer ftill, who feas and mountains crofs'd,
To dig the rock, and fearch the pearly deep!

These coftly toys our filly fair furprize;

The fhining follies cheat their feeble fight: Their hearts, fecure in trifles, love despise; 'Tis vain to court them, but more vain to write!

Why did the gods conceal the little mind

And earthly thought beneath a heav'nly face! Forget the worth that dignifies mankind,

Yet fmooth and polifh fo each outward grace!

Hence all the blame that Love and Venus bear;
Hence pleasure fhort, and anguish ever long:
Hence tears and fighs; and hence the peevish fair,
The froward lover-hence this angry fong.

ADIEU, ye walls, that guard my cruel fair!

No more I'll fit in rofy fetters bound:

My limbs have learn'd the weight of arms to bear,
My rouzing spirits feel the trumpet's found.

Few are the maids that now on merit fmile,
On fpoil and war is bent this iron age;
Yet pain and death attend on war and spoil,
Unfated vengeance and remorfelefs rage.