A Pastoral Dialogue.

STrephon! O Strephon! once the jolliest Lad
That with shrill Pipe did ever Mountain glad
While'ome the formost at our Rural Playes,
The Pride and Glory of our Holy-days:
Why dost thou now s…t musing all alone;
Teaching the Turtles yet a sadder groan▪
Swel'd with thy Tears, why does the neighb'ring Broo…
Bear to the Ocean what she never took?
Why do our Woods, so us'd to hear thee Sing▪
With nothing now but with thy Sorrows ring?
Thy Flocks are well and fruitful, and no Swain
Then thee more welcome to the Hill or Plain.
No loss of these, or care of those are left,
Hath wretched Strephon of his peace berest,
I could invite the Wolf, my cruel Guest,
And play unmovd while he on all did feast;
I could endure that every Swain out-run,
Out-threw, out wrestl'd, and each Nymph shou'd shun
The hapless Strephon: But the Gods, I find,
To no such trifles have this Heart design'd;
A feller grief, and sadder loss, I plain,
Then ever Shepherd, or did Prince, sustain;
Bright Galatea, in whose matchless face
Sateru al nnocence with heavenly grace,
In whose no less to be adored mind,
With equal light, even distant virtues shin'd,
Chaste, without pride; though gentle, yet not soft;
Not always cruel, nor yet kind too oft:
Fair Goddess of these Fields, who for our sports,
Though she might well become despised Courts,
Belov'd of all, and loving one alone,
Is from my sight, I fear, for ever gone;
Now I am sure thou wondrest not, I grieve:
But rather art amazed that I live.
Thy case indeed is pitiful, but yet
Thou on thy loss too great a price dost set;
Women, like days are, Strephon, some be far
More bright and glorious then others are;
Yet none so wonderful were ever seen,
But by as fair they have succeeded been.
Others as fair, and may as worthy prove,
But sure I never shall another love;
Her bright Idea wanders in my thought,
At once my Poyson, and my Antidote;
The Stag shall sooner with the Eagle soar,
Seas leave their Fishes naked on the shoar;
The Wolf shall sooner by the Lambkin die,
And from the Kid the hungry Lion flie,
Then I forget her face; what once I love,
May from my eyes, but not my heart remove.