Pastorals, Issue 1

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H. Hills, in Black-fryars, near the Water-side, 1710 - Pastoral poetry, English - 24 pages
 

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Page 19 - Now, lightly skimming, o'er the Strings they pafs, Like Winds, that gently brufh the plying Grafs, And melting Airs arife at their Command : And now, laborious, with a weighty Hand He finks into the Cords with folemn Pace, And gives the fwelling Tones a Manly Grace: Then, intricate he blends agreeing Sounds, While Mufick thro
Page 19 - Twirls many a wild unimitable note, To foil her rival. What could Colin more? A little harp of maple ware he bore: The little harp was old, but newly strung, Which, usual, he across his shoulders hung. " Now take, delightful bird, my last farewell, (He said) and learn from hence thou dost excel No trivial artist!
Page 17 - What Crouds of mute Admirers flock'd around ! The Steerlings left their Food ; and Creatures wild . By Nature form'd infenfibly grew mild. He makes the Birds in Troops about him .throng, And loads the neighb'ring Branches with his Song.
Page 17 - Reign., There liv'd in great Efteem a jolly Swain, ; Young Colin Clout ; who well could pipe and fing» And by his Notes invite the lagging Spring^ He, as his Cuftom was, at leifure laid In filent Shade, without a Rival play'd. Drawn by the Magick of th...
Page 11 - Accents and what moving Cries She fill'd the Grove, and importun'd the Skies, And ev'ry Star upbraided with his Death, When .in her Widow'd Arms, devoid of Breath^ She claip'd her Son. Nor did the...
Page 11 - The Pride of Britain, and the darling Joy Of all the Plains and ev'ry Shepherd Boy? No joyous Pipe was heard, no Flocks were seen, Nor Shepherds found upon the grassy Green; No Cattel graz'd the Field nor drank the Flood ; 40 No Birds were heard to warble thro
Page 4 - To please the lads, and win the lasses' hearts ! How deftly, to mine oaten reed so sweet, Wont they upon the green to shift their feet ! And, wearied in the dance, how would they yearn Some well devised tale from me to learn!
Page 18 - And, fweeteft Songfter of the Winged Kind, What Thanks, faid he, what Praifes can I find To equal thy melodious Voice ? In thee The Rudenefs of my Rural Life I fee ; From thee I learn to vaunt no more my Skill.
Page 8 - Small need there was, in flatt'ring hopes of gain, To drive my pining flock athwart the plain To diftant Cam : fine gain at length, I trow, To hoard up...

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