THE TEARS of OLD MAY-DAY. Edward Lovibond Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
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. T131163 K104099.004 Dodsley, Robert, 1703-1764. A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands. Vol. IV. London printed by J. Hughs, for R. and J. Dodsley 1763 [1st ed. 1758] pp. 166-171. 6v.: music; 8⁰.

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THE TEARS of OLD MAY-DAY . LED by the jocund train of vernal hours And vernal airs , uprose the gentle May ; Blushing she rose , and blushing rose the flow'rs That sprung spontaneous in the genial ray . Her locks with heav'n's ambrosial dews were bright , And am'rous zephyrs flutter'd on her breast : With ev'ry shifting gleam of morning light The colours shifted of her rainbow vest . Imperial ensigns grac'd her smiling form , A golden key , and golden wand she bore ; This charms to peace each sullen eastern storm , And that unlocks the Summer's copious store . Onward in conscious majesty she came , The grateful honours of mankind to taste ; To gather fairest wreaths of future fame , And blend fresh triumphs with her glories past . Vain hope ! no more in choral bands unite Her virgin vot'ries , and at early dawn , Sacred to May and Love's mysterious rite , Brush the light dew-drops Alluding to the country custom of gathering May-dew . from the spangled lawn . To her no more Augusta's The plate garlands of London . wealthy pride Pours the full tribute from Potosi's mine ; Nor fresh-blown garlands village maids provide , A purer off'ring , at her rustic shrine . No more the Maypole's verdant height around To Valour's games th' ambitious youth advance : No merry bells and tabors' sprightlier sound Wake the loud carol , and the sportive dance . Sudden in pensive sadness droop'd her head , Faint on her cheeks the blushing crimson dy'd — " O ! chaste victorious triumphs , whither fled ? " My maiden honours , whither gone ? " she cry'd . Ah ! once to fame and bright dominion born , The Earth and smiling Ocean saw me rise , With time coeval and the star of morn , The first , the fairest daughter of the skies . Then , when at heav'n's prolific mandate sprung The radiant beam of new-created day , Celestial harps , to airs of triumph strung , Hail'd the glad dawn , and angels call'd me MAY . Space in her empty regions heard the sound , And hills , and dales , and rocks , and vallies rung ; The sun exulted in his glorious round , And shouting planets in their courses sung . For ever then I led the constant year ; Saw Youth , and Joy , and Love's enchanting wiles ; Saw the mild Graces in my train appear , And infant Beauty brighten in my smiles . No Winter frown'd . In sweet embrace ally'd , Three sister Seasons danc'd th' eternal green ; And Spring's retiring softness gently vy'd With Autumn's blush , and Summer's lofty mien . Too soon , when man prophan'd the blessings giv'n , And Vengeance arm'd to blot a guilty age , With bright Astrea to my native heav'n I fled , and flying saw the Deluge rage : Saw bursting clouds eclipse the noontide beams , While sounding billows from the mountains roll'd , With bitter waves polluting all my streams , My nectar'd streams , that flow'd on sands of gold . Then vanquish'd many a sea-girt isle and grove , Their forests floating on the wat'ry plain : Then , fam'd for arts and laws deriv'd from Jove , My Atalantis See Plato . sunk beneath the main . No longer bloom'd primeval Eden's bow'rs , Nor guardian dragons watch'd the Hesperian steep : With all their fountains , fragrant fruits and flow'rs , Torn from the continent to glut the deep . No more to dwell in sylvan scenes I deign'd , Yet oft descending to the languid earth , With quick'ning pow'rs the fainting mass sustain'd , And wak'd her slumb'ring atoms into birth . And ev'ry echo caught my raptur'd name , And ev'ry virgin breath'd her am'rous vows , And precious wreaths of rich immortal fame , Show'r'd by the Muses , crown'd my lofty brows . But chief in Europe , and in Europe's pride , My Albion's favour'd realms , I rose ador'd ; And pour'd my wealth to other climes deny'd , From Amalthea's horn with plenty stor'd . Ah me ! for now a younger rival claims My ravish'd honours , and to her belong My choral dances , and victorious games , To her my garlands and triumphal song . O say what yet untasted bounties flow , What purer joys await her gentler reign ? Do lillies fairer , vi'lets sweeter blow ? And warbles Philomel a softer strain ? Do morning suns in ruddier glory rise ? Does ev'ning fan her with serener gales ? Do clouds drop fatness from the wealthier skies ? Or wantons Plenty in her happier vales ? Ah ! no : the blunted beams of dawning light Skirt the pale orient with uncertain day ; And Cynthia , riding on the car of night , Thro' clouds embattled faintly wins her way . Pale , immature , the blighted verdure springs , Nor mounting juices feed the swelling flow'r ; Mute all the groves , nor Philomela sings When Silence listens at the midnight hour . Nor wonder , man , that Nature's bashful face , And op'ning charms her rude embraces fear : Is she not sprung of April's wayward race , The sickly daughter of th' unripen'd year ? With show'rs and sunshine in her fickle eyes , With hollow smiles proclaiming treach'rous peace ; With blushes , harb'ring in their thin disguise The blast that riots on the Spring's increase . Is this the fair invested with my spoil By Europe's laws , and Senates' stern command ? Ungen'rous Europe , let me fly thy soil , And waft my treasures to a grateful land : Again revive on Asia's drooping shore My Daphne's groves , or Lycia's ancient plain : Again to Afric's sultry sands restore Embow'ring shades , and Lybian Amnion's fane : Or haste to northern Zembla's savage coast , There hush to silence elemental strife ; Brood o'er the region of eternal Frost , And swell her barren womb with heat and life . Then Britain — here she ceas'd . Indignant grief , And parting pangs her fault'ring tongue supprest : Veil'd in an amber cloud , she sought relief , And tears , and silent anguish told the rest .