LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. A PASTORAL. Elizabeth Hands (née Herbert) 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. T141063 Hands, Elizabeth, 1746-1815. The death of Amnon. A poem. With an appendix: containing pastorals, and other poetical pieces. By Elizabeth Hands. [Coventry] Printed for the author, by N. Rollason, Coventry, M,DCCLXXXIX. 1789 pp. 66-68. [40],127,[1]p.; 8⁰.

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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 .