And cut and clip, whate'er you do,
This pretty ftick was ftill but Yew.
The pois'nous drops, the baleful fhade
Struck each genteeler flower dead;
But Myrtle, being ever-green,
Thought Nature taught to wed her kin,
And careless of th' event, withdrew
From her old friends, and fought her Yew.
Behold the am'rous fhrub tranfplanted,
And her laft prayer in vengeance granted.
The bride and bridegroom cling together,
Enjoy the fair, and fcorn foul weather.
Vifits are pay'd: around are seen
The scrubbed race of ever-green,
Th' ill-natur'd Holly, ragged Box,
And Yew's own family in flocks:
But not a flow'r of fcent or flavour
Would do the bride fo great a favour,
But in contempt drew in their leaves,
And shrunk away, as Senfitives.
The blushing Queen, with decent pride,
Turn'd, as she pass'd, her head aside;
The Lilly nice, was like to fpue
To fee MYRTILLA Mrs. YEW:
The Eglantine, a prude by nature,
Wou'd never go a-near the Creacher;
And the gay Woodbine gave a flaunt,
Nor anfwer'd her but with a taunt.
Poor MYRTLE, ftrangely mortify'd,
Too late refumes her proper pride;
Which, heighten'd now by pique and spleen,
Paints her condition doubly mean.
She four'd her mind, grew broken-hearted,
And foon this fpiteful world departed;
And now lies decently interr'd,
On a BAY-LEAF, pluck'd from VIRGIL'S
Tomb near Naples. 1736.
And facrilegiously presume
To rob the poet's facred tomb
Of fo much honourable shade,
As this, fo fmall a trophy, made;
Could dare to pluck from VIRGIL's brow
The honours Nature did bestow.
* Sweetly the gentle goddess fmil'd,
And liften'd to her favourite child;
Whether in fhepherd's cleanly weed
He deftly tun'd his oaten reed,
And taught the vocal woods around
His Amaryllis to refound;
* Or taught he in a graver ftrain
To cloath the field with waving grain;
And in the marriage-folds to twine
The barren elm, and cluster'd vine;
To yoke the lab'ring ox, to breed
To the known goal the foaming steed ;'
And fung the manners, rights, degrees,
And labours of the frugal bees;
+ Or whether with Æneas' name
He fwell'd th' extended cheek of Fame,
And all his god-like labours fung,
Whence Rome's extended glories fprung;
The goddess fmil'd, and own'd she knew
Th' original from whence he drew,
And grateful she spontaneous gave
This living honour to his grave.
Hail, thou sweet shade, whofe rev'renc'd name
Still foremost in the mouth of Fame,
Doth preference and value give,
And teach this little leaf to live:
Methinks fecluded from that brow,
Where grateful Nature bad it grow,
This beauteous green fhould fade
And yield to iron-tooth'd decay;
But VIRGIL's name forbids that crime,
And blunts the threat'ning fcythe of Time.
Written on my Birth-Day, 1734
HE minutes, the hours, the days, and the years,
That fill up the current of Time,
Neither flowing with hopes, neither ebbing with fears,
Unheeded roll'd on to my prime.
In infancy prattling, in youth full of play,
Still pleas'd with whatever was new,
I bad the old cripple fly swifter away,
To o'ertake fome gay trifle in view.
But when CHLOE, with sweetness and sense in her look,
First taught me the leffon of love;
Then I counted each step the wing'd fugitive took,
Stop, run-away, ftop, nor thy journey pursue,
For CHLOE has gi'en me her heart:
To enjoy it thy years will prove many too few,
If you make fo much hate to depart.
Still, ftill he flies on-ftill, ftill let him fly
'Till he's tired, and panting for breath;
My love both his teeth and his scythe shall defy-
That can only be conquer'd by Death.
O filent groves, where weeping yew
With fadly-mournful cypress join'd,
Poor DAMON from the plain withdrew,
To cafe with plaints his love-fick mind;
Pale willow into mystick wreaths he wove,
And thus lamented his forfaken love.
How often, CELIA, faithlefs maid,
With arms entwined did we walk
Beneath the close unpierced fhade,
Beguiling time with am'rous talk!
But that, alas! is past, and I must prove
The pangs attending on forsaken love.
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