The ilow'rs she wore along the day: 

 And ev'ry nymph and shepherd said, 



' That in her hair they look'd more gay 

 ' Than growing in their native bed.' 



Undrest at ev'ning, when she found 

 Their odours lost, their colours past; 



She chang'd her look, and on the ground 

 Her garland and her eye she cast. 



That eye dropt sense distinct and clear, 

 As any Muse's tongue could speak; 



When from its lid a pearly tear 



Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek. 



Dissembling what I knew too well, 

 ' My Love, my Life,' said I, ' explain 



' This change of humour; pr'ythee tell: 

 ' That falling tear, what does it mean?' 



She smil'd, she sigh'd ; and to the flow'rs 

 Pointing, the lovely Moralist said : 



' See, friend ! in some few fleeting hours, 

 ' See yonder, what a change is made. 



' What though each Grace around me play, 



' Each Beauty bloom for you ; 

 ' Warm as the blush of rising May, 



' And sparkling as the dew: 



' Ah me ! the blooming pride of May, 

 ' And that of Beauty are but one: 



' At Morn both flourish bright and gay, 

 ' Both fade at Ev'ning, pale and gone. 



^ So pass the Beauties of our prime, 



' That e'en in blooming die ; 

 ' So, shrinking at the blast of Time, 

 ' The treach'rous Graces fly. 



Prior. 



And to the following. 



Awake, my fair, the morning springs, 

 The dew-drops glance around; 



The heifer lows, the blackbird sings, 

 The echoing vales resound. 



The simple sweets would Stella taste. 

 That breathing morning yields; 



The fragrance of the flow'ry waste. 

 And freshness of the fields: 



