A PASTORAL DIALOGUE. 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. 74-75. [40],127,[1]p.; 8⁰.

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A PASTORAL DIALOGUE . Damon . O Theron , say what means that down-cast eye , What new found grief has taught thy breast to sigh ? Has some intruding swain thy purpose crost ? Or has some favourite ewe her lambkin lost ? Assume thy wonted cheerfulness dear lad , Or tell thy Damon why thou look'st so sad . Theron . Fresh as the spring , and fair as op'ning day , My Jessy smil'd , and stole my heart away ; But when of love I did to her complain , She scarcely smil'd , nor answer'd me again : None e'er could think , but those that feel the smart , So fair a form could hide so hard a heart . Damon . Ah , silly swain ! and was thy beauty made , For the cool frowns of one false nymph to fade ? O Theron , Theron , scorn the power of love , Forbid the tender impulses to move : See how that bee forsakes the blooming may , And leaves it for the next that comes this way . Theron . Must I , like fickle Jessy , learn to slight ? Yes , — what my Damon says is always right . See'st thou that nymph , beneath the shady tree ? She looks this way ; I wish she look'd at me : If e'er thy Theron should his heart transfer From his lost Jessy , it must go to her . Damon . O say no more — no more of her , my friend ; For she is mine — my Doris ! — O suspend — Suspend thy choice , my swain , till thou hast seen The village maids assemble on the green ; And if you would your fickle heart transfer , Then take your choice of all the rest but her . Theron . Why are you angry now , my friend , my swain ! Your own advice I'll give you back again : O Damon , Damon , scorn the power of love ; Forego your nymph , your simile to prove : Forsake her , as the bee forsakes the may , And I will be the next that comes this way .