NANCY of the VALE. A BALLAD. William Shenstone 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. T131163 K104099.005 Dodsley, Robert, 1703-1764. A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands. Vol. V. London printed by J. Hughs, for R. and J. Dodsley 1763 [1st ed. 1758] pp. 16-18. 6v.: music; 8⁰.

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NANCY of the VALE . A BALLAD . Nerine Galatea ! thymo mihi dulcior Hyblae ! Candidior cygnis , hederâ formosior albâ ! Virgil, Eclogues 7.37-8. By the Same . THE western sky was purpled o'er With every pleasing ray : And flocks reviving felt no more The sultry heats of day : When from an hazle's artless bower Soft-warbled Strephon's tongue ; He blest the scene , he blest the hour , While Nancy's praise he sung . " Let fops with fickle falshood range The paths of wanton love , Whilst weeping maids lament their change , And sadden every grove : But endless blessings crown the day , I saw fair Esham's dale ! And every blessing find its way To Nancy of the Vale . 'Twas from Avona's banks the maid Diffus'd her lovely beams ; And every shining glance display'd The Naïd of the streams . Soft as the wild-duck's tender young , That float on Avon's tide ; Bright as the water-lily , sprung , And glittering near its side . Fresh as the bordering flowers , her bloom : Her eye , all mild to view ; The little halcyon's azure plume Was never half so blue . Her shape was like the reed so sleek , So taper , strait , and fair ; Her dimpled smile , her blushing cheek , How charming sweet they were ! Far in the winding Vale retir'd , This peerless bud I found ; And shadowing rocks , and woods conspir'd To fence her beauties round . That Nature in so lone a dell Should form a Nymph so sweet ! Or Fortune to her secret cell Conduct my wandering feet ! Gay lordlings sought her for their bride , But she would ne'er incline : " Prove to your equals true , she cry'd , " As I will prove to mine . " 'Tis Strephon , on the mountain's brow , " Has won my right good will ; " To him I gave my plighted vow , " With him I'll climb the hill . " Struck with her charms and gentle truth , I clasp'd the constant fair ; To her alone I gave my youth , And vow my future care . And when this vow shall faithless prove , Or I those charms forego ; The stream that saw our tender love , That stream shall cease to flow .