LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP.

A PASTORAL.

Two nymphs to whom the pow'rs of verse belong,
 Alike ambitious to excel in song,
 With equal sweetness sang alternate strains,
 And courteous echo told the list'ning plains;
 That of her lover sung, this of her friend;
 Ye rural nymphs and village swains attend. 

Celia. 

O Love, soft sov'reign, ruler of the heart! 
Deep are thy wounds, and pleasing is the smart;
 When Strephon smiles the wint'ry fields look gay,
 Cold hearts are warm'd, and hard ones melt away. 

Sylvia. 

Through ev'ry scene of temp'ral bliss is there
 A greater blessing than a friend sincere? 
'Tis Corydon that bears that tender name,
 And Sylvia's breast returns the gen'rous flame. 

Celia. 

When happy I survey my Strephon's charms,
 His beauty holds me faster than his arms,
 My heart is in a flood of pleasures toss'd,
 I faint, I die, and am in raptures lost. 

Sylvia. 

And what are all these tumults of the heart,
 But certain omens of a future smart? 
In friendship we more solid comforts find,
 It cheers the heart, nor leaves a sting behind. 

Celia. 

Surely no lark in spring was e'er so glad
 To see the morn, as I to see my lad;
 At his approach all anxious griefs remove,
 And ev'ry other joy gives place to love. 

Sylvia. 

O happy I! with such a friend to live! 
Our joys united double pleasure give;
 Our inmost thoughts with freedom we unfold,
 And grief's no longer grief, when once 'tis told. 

Celia. 

All that is lovely in my swain I find,
 But am to all his imperfections blind;
 What have I said? I surely do him wrong,
 No imperfections can to him belong. 

Sylvia. 

The faithful friend sees with impartial eyes,
 Nor scorns reproof, but speaks without disguise;
 Blind to all faults, the eager lover sues,
 Friends see aright, and ev'ry fault excuse. 

Then Daphne from beneath a hawthorn sprung,
 Where she attentive sat to hear the song;
 Her breast was conscious of the tender glow,
 That faithful friends, in mutual friendship know;
 Her tender heart, by love's impulses mov'd,
 With ardour beat to sing the swain she lov'd;
 With emulation fir'd, the conscious maid
 Thus to the fair contending virgins said. 

Daphne. 

Blest Celia, happy in a lover dear;
 Blest Sylvia, happy in a friend sincere;
 But surely I am doubly blest to find,
 At once a friend sincere, and lover kind;
 My Thirsis is my friend, my friend I say
 And who in love can bear a greater sway
 Strephon must his superior power own,
 Nor is he less sincere than Corydon.