OF  and her Charms I sing,
Fair as the Blossoms of the smiling Spring;
Whose lovely Temples wore a Myrtle Wreath,
That serv'd to shade her glowing Cheeks beneath:
How wou'd that Brow, which never knew to frown,
Become the Splendor of an awful Crown;
For, by the lustre of her shining Eyes,
You'd take her for an Empress in disguise:
Those graceful Limbs tho' clad in humble Green,
Wou'd suit a Princess, nor disgrace a Queen:
Yet a plain Crook adorn'd her snowy
Fair as the Fleeces of her tender
Her Task it was, those tender Lambs to lead,
O'er the tall Mountain on the fertile Mead:
Where the clear Fountains gently murmur by,
And sounding Grottos to her Flute reply:
Her Flute and Song delude the tedious Day,
And her soft Hours calmly glide away.
In Smiles the Fair One view'd the rising Sun,
In Smiles beheld him when his Race was done:
And when his Beams had bid the Fields adieu,
And the damp Meadows shone with pearly Dew;
Pent in their Fold she leaves her wanton Care,
And to her home returns the happy Fair:
'Twas a low Cottage, humble as their Fate,
Where an old Father met her at the Gate:
This Hind was call'd  of the Plain,
A Name much valu'd by each honest Swain:
On whose grave Brow were seen the Marks of Time,
No more his Cheeks confess'd their healthy Prime:
Dim were his Eyes: Those Eye-balls that had seen
Full fourscore Springs array'd in sprightly Green:
Child of his Age was  the Fair;
And she alone his Comfort and his Care.