✔ AN APRIL PASTORAL

He.

WHITHER away, fair Neat-herdess?

She. Shepherd, I go to tend my kine. He. Stay thou, and watch this flock of mine. She. With thee? Nay, that were idleness. He. Thy kine will pasture none the less.

She.

He.

She.

He.

She.
He.

She.

He.

Not so they wait me and my sign.
I'll pipe to thee beneath the pine.
Thy pipe will soothe not their distress.
Dost thou not hear beside the spring
How the gay birds are carolling?
I hear them. But it may not be.

Farewell then, Sweetheart! Farewell now.
Shepherd, farewell. . Where goest thou?
I go.. to tend thy kine for thee!

A NEW SONG OF THE SPRING

COM

GARDENS

To the Burden of " Rogues All."

'OME hither ye gallants, come hither ye maids, To the trim gravelled walks, to the shady arcades ;

Come hither, come hither, the nightingales call ;— Sing Tantarara,-Vauxhall! Vauxhall!

Come hither, ye cits, from your Lothbury hives! Come hither, ye husbands, and look to your wives!

For the sparks are as thick as the leaves in the Mall;

Sing Tantarara,-Vauxhall! Vauxhall!

Here the 'prentice from Aldgate may ogle a Toast!

Here his Worship must elbow the Knight of the

Post!

For the wicket is free to the great and the

small;

Sing Tantarara,—Vauxhall ! Vauxhall !

Here Betty may flaunt in her mistress's sack! Here Trip wear his master's brocade on his back! Here a hussy may ride, and a rogue take the wall;

Sing Tantarara,-Vauxhall! Vauxhall!

Here Beauty may grant, and here Valour may ask! Here the plainest may pass for a Belle (in a mask)!

Here a domino covers the short and the tall;— Sing Tantarara,-Vauxhall! Vauxhall!

'Tis a type of the world, with its drums and its din ; 'Tis a type of the world, for when once you come in You are loth to go out; like the world 'tis a ball;— Sing Tantarara,-Vauxhall! Vauxhall!

VA LOVE-SONG

(XVIII. CENT.)

WHEN first in CELIA's ear I poured

A yet unpractised pray'r,

My trembling tongue sincere ignored
The aids of "sweet" and "fair."

I only said, as in me lay,

I'd strive her "worth" to reach;

She frowned, and turned her eyes away,— So much for truth in speech.

Then DELIA came. I changed my plan; I praised her to her face;

I praised her features,-praised her fan,
Her lap-dog and her lace;

I swore that not till Time were dead
My passion should decay;

She, smiling, gave her hand, and said
"Twill last then-for a DAY.

SHE

VOF HIS MISTRESS

(After Anthony Hamilton)

TO G. S.

that I love is neither brown nor fair,
And, in a word her worth to say,
There is no maid that with her may
Compare.

Yet of her charms the count is clear, I ween:
There are five hundred things we see,
And then five hundred too there be,
Not seen.

Her wit, her wisdom are direct from Heaven:
But the sweet Graces from their store

A thousand finer touches more

Have given.

Her cheek's warm dye what painter's brush could note?

Beside her Flora would be wan

And white as whiteness of the swan

Her throat.