A SONG. John Ogilvie Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T116245 1136 K093079.003 Pearch, G. A collection of poems in four volumes. By several hands. Vol. III. [The second edition]. London printed for G. Pearch 1770 pp. 170-171. 4v. ; 8⁰.

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A SONG . BY DR. O — . NOW Evening had tinged the gay landskip with gold , The swains were retired , and their flocks in the fold , When Delia complain'd in the woodland alone ; Loud ecchoes retain'd , and replied to her moan , The warblers sat listening around on the spray , And the gale stole in murmurs as soft as her lay . " Ah , my Strephon ! ( twas thus the fair mourner begun , ) How cruel to leave me thus lost and undone ! Your vows like the wind you forget or despise , You slight my complaints , and are deaf to my cries ; The frown once so dreadful , ah ! where is its power ? The voice heard with transport , gives transport no more . " Though the Sylvans to please me exert all their powers , Though the swains crown my head with a garland of flowers , Though they swear that my eyes like the morning are gay , That my song is more sweet , than the nightingales lay , Yet while Strephon is absent , dejected , dismay'd , I droop like a flower that repines in the shade . " O return , gentle Shepherd , return to my prayer ! Ah think how I sigh in unpitied despair ! — But in vain all my hopes ! all my wishes are vain ! While the streams and the breezes thus hear me complain , While the birds to my anguish reply from the bough , He flies from my arms , and regards not my woe . " Ah ! too easy to trust all the oaths that he swore , When he vow'd that no Nymph had e'er charm'd him before . Be warn'd then , ye Fair , nor too rashly believe ; Think the men when they flatter , but want to deceive ; That the fond easy promise was ne'er meant to bind ; And believe when they swear , that their oaths are all wind . "