The EVER-GREEN.

WHEN tepid breezes fann'd the air,
And violets perfum'd the glade,
Pensive and grave my charming fair
Beneath yon shady lime was laid.

Flourish, said I, those favour'd boughs,
And ever sooth the purest flames!
Witness to none but faithful vows!
Wounded by none but faithful names!

Yield every tree that crowns the grove
To this which pleas'd my wandering dear!
Range where you will, ye bands of love,
Ye still shall seem to revel here.

Lavinia smil'd — and whilst her arm
Her fair reclining head sustain'd,
Betray'd she felt some fresh alarm;
And thus the meaning smile explain'd.

When summer suns shine forth no more,
Will then this lime its shelter yield?
Protect us when the tempests roar,
And winter drives us from the field?

Yet faithful then the fir shall last —
I smile, she cry'd, but ah! I tremble,
To think when my fair season's past,
Which Damon then will most resemble.