CHARLEY AND DICKEY .
SCENE. — A beautiful Country, at Noon.
CHARLEY .
Shepherd , come hither to this lov'd retreat,
Where warbling birds their tuneful songs repeat.
With rival notes the hills and forests ring —
I think, you lately challeng'd me to sing.
DICKY .
I did, my boy — nor will defer the time:
The new-cloth'd trees in whispers plead for rhyme:
The daisy'd brook that through the meadow strays
With flow'ry thoughts will animate our lays.
Stay then, my bleating sheep — here nibbling feed,
Nor let your roving, yonder mound exceed.
Tray, fetch the stragglers from the craggy rock,
And, while I sing with Charley, tend my flock.
CHARLEY .
Old Jacob hears us — see, he leaves the groves:
Nor hoary age his love of verse removes.
Tott'ring he comes — behold the pleasing sight,
His friendly features wrinkled with delight.
He, who so oft has judg'd in former days,
Shall now decide who sings the sweetest lays.
DICKY .
Agreed, my friend. — Come, father, hear our songs,
And give the praise to whom the praise belongs.
Charley, I'll stake this mellow flute with thine.
See how the joints of polish'd iv'ry shine!
Nought with the snowy ringlets can compare,
Except the whiter bosom of my fair.
CHARLEY .
Dicky, thy flute is mean, compar'd to mine,
Worn by the touch of mortals half divine.
It once was Colin Clout's, the first of swains
That pip'd to shepherds on the British plains;
Whose plaintive music through the vallies spread,
" And taught the trees their trickling tears to shed."
Cuddy enjoy'd it next, whose equal skill
" Charm'd ev'ry vale, and gladden'd every hill."
Paul, when fam'd Cuddy yielded up his breath,
And sunk, lamented, to the shades of death,
To tuneful Thyrsis he the reed consign'd;
Thyrsis, the joy and boast of ev'ry hind,
Who breath'd such tender notes, that at his call,
" The headlong streams hung list'ning in their fall!"
Next Bowzebeus swell'd its charming sound,
While artless shepherds gayly flock'd around.
So sweet his music, that the rural swains
" Seem still to hear some soft imperfect strains"
He gave it me when old, and crown'd with praise:
But if thy songs surpass my rural lays,
'Tis thine by right — for so it is decreed,
Who sings the sweetest, justly claims the reed.
Its sounds have often made the hills rejoice:
There's nought so charming but my Sukey's voice.
JACOB .
Begin, my boys — to neither I incline:
Nor let the vanquish'd at his fate repine.
CHARLEY .
How ev'ry prospect charms the ravish'd eye! —
Beneath the lustre of a glowing sky:
The nightingale yon silver'd hawthorn shrouds,
And larks are singing to the lofty clouds.
Dicky, how gay thy cot and fields appear,
Where blooming shrubs the fertile valley cheer;
From yonder hilloc crystal waters spring,
And round thy dwelling form a silver ring.
DICKY .
How much more lovely in the prospect shines
Yon ancient abbey , where the ivy twines
Around the sacred walls, and climbs the tow'r,
Against whose pleasing ruin leans thy bow'r!
CHARLEY .
See how the distant ocean brightly gleams,
Beneath the glowing sun's descending beams!
No daisy-crowded meadow looks so bright,
Sparkling with dew at early morning light,
See where the fertile island forms the bay,
With lofty cliffs in cloud-soft colours gay.
There distant ships that o'er the billows steer
Like waving woods in hazy mists appear.
DICKY .
Behold the clouds like hills and dales are seen,
There shining seas with floating lands between;
See now that moving mountain softly glides,
With tree-hug'd ruins on its shaggy sides,
Where currents seem to murmur down the steep,
To such fair fields as would delight my sheep.
Methinks I there should love to feed my flock,
And slumber on that fleecy-pillow'd rock.
CHARLEY .
Ye weary maids, that labour'd in the heat,
To cut the thistles from the rising wheat,
Now sweetly slumber on the mossy ground,
Near waters murmuring in a lulling sound!
DICKY .
Ye lab'ring swains, who shun the scorching beams
Where spreading oaks meet o'er the cooling streams,
Your task is pleasing, through the shady grove
To teach the willing waters where to rove!
CHARLEY .
To-day at sun-rise, as I sought my fold,
The eastern clouds appear'd like rocks of gold;
I view'd the dazzling scene with true delight,
Till charming Sukey, passing, drew my sight
From those gay glitt'ring objects of the skies,
To softer colours in her lovely eyes!
DICKY .
One ev'ning fair the sky was gayly dress'd;
The glitt'ring sun seem'd ling'ring in the west,
When on yon eastern hill, array'd in white,
My dearest fair receiv'd the glowing light.
Oh! how her beauty charm'd my ravish'd eyes!
She seem'd an angel settled from the skies!
CHARLEY .
See yonder flow'ry lawns beside the spring,
Where buzzing bees delight to work and sing,
There Sukey will to-morrow come to stay;
There wander with me all the live-long day:
And when, retir'd to rest, my weary flock
Pant in the cooling shade of yonder rock;
Then through the wood we hand in hand will rove,
And, like the cooing turtles, murmur love!
DICKEY .
To-morrow Nelly comes my flock to see,
And while she softly whisper'd it to me,
What modest looks she gave! — her eyes how meek!
While a young rose bloom'd wide upon her cheek!
I'll cull the flow'rs that make yon hilloc gay
To deck my fair one like the queen of May:
But in my arms should Nelly fall asleep,
Ah! how neglected then you'll rove, my sheep!
CHARLEY .
Ye idle twins, the fairest of my flock,
That skipping play on yonder thymy rock,
When Sukey comes, to her ye frisking bound,
As in the frost to plats of sunny ground.
Touch not the tainted grass, nor noisome weeds;
Shun the rank verdure near the marshy reeds:
Feed on the richest cowslips in the glade,
And roll on beds of vi'lets in the shade,
Till you breathe fragrance like the honey-combs;
For Sukey's sure to kiss you when she comes.
DICKY .
My jetty lamb, whose beauty shines from far,
Come turn thy forehead, shew thy silver star.
Thy mother perish'd on the frozen plain,
And milk you sought with mournful bleats in vain.
Thee, hapless creature, Nelly warm'd and fed,
And on her bosom strok'd thy drooping head.
Deck'd with a bell, you nodded harmless pride,
Slept in her lap, or wanton'd by her side.
How she thy grateful frolics would admire,
Dancing before her cheerful winter's fire!
JACOB .
Cease, tuneful youths! the pleasure of the plain;
Your songs recall my youthful days again.
Dicky, the hopes of Charley's flute resign;
Nor can I, Charley, call young Dicky's thine.
Sing when you meet, your friendship to increase;
Wagers breed enmity, and spoil your peace!
SCENE. — A beautiful Country, at Noon.
CHARLEY .
Shepherd , come hither to this lov'd retreat,
Where warbling birds their tuneful songs repeat.
With rival notes the hills and forests ring —
I think, you lately challeng'd me to sing.
DICKY .
I did, my boy — nor will defer the time:
The new-cloth'd trees in whispers plead for rhyme:
The daisy'd brook that through the meadow strays
With flow'ry thoughts will animate our lays.
Stay then, my bleating sheep — here nibbling feed,
Nor let your roving, yonder mound exceed.
Tray, fetch the stragglers from the craggy rock,
And, while I sing with Charley, tend my flock.
CHARLEY .
Old Jacob hears us — see, he leaves the groves:
Nor hoary age his love of verse removes.
Tott'ring he comes — behold the pleasing sight,
His friendly features wrinkled with delight.
He, who so oft has judg'd in former days,
Shall now decide who sings the sweetest lays.
DICKY .
Agreed, my friend. — Come, father, hear our songs,
And give the praise to whom the praise belongs.
Charley, I'll stake this mellow flute with thine.
See how the joints of polish'd iv'ry shine!
Nought with the snowy ringlets can compare,
Except the whiter bosom of my fair.
CHARLEY .
Dicky, thy flute is mean, compar'd to mine,
Worn by the touch of mortals half divine.
It once was Colin Clout's, the first of swains
That pip'd to shepherds on the British plains;
Whose plaintive music through the vallies spread,
" And taught the trees their trickling tears to shed."
Cuddy enjoy'd it next, whose equal skill
" Charm'd ev'ry vale, and gladden'd every hill."
Paul, when fam'd Cuddy yielded up his breath,
And sunk, lamented, to the shades of death,
To tuneful Thyrsis he the reed consign'd;
Thyrsis, the joy and boast of ev'ry hind,
Who breath'd such tender notes, that at his call,
" The headlong streams hung list'ning in their fall!"
Next Bowzebeus swell'd its charming sound,
While artless shepherds gayly flock'd around.
So sweet his music, that the rural swains
" Seem still to hear some soft imperfect strains"
He gave it me when old, and crown'd with praise:
But if thy songs surpass my rural lays,
'Tis thine by right — for so it is decreed,
Who sings the sweetest, justly claims the reed.
Its sounds have often made the hills rejoice:
There's nought so charming but my Sukey's voice.
JACOB .
Begin, my boys — to neither I incline:
Nor let the vanquish'd at his fate repine.
CHARLEY .
How ev'ry prospect charms the ravish'd eye! —
Beneath the lustre of a glowing sky:
The nightingale yon silver'd hawthorn shrouds,
And larks are singing to the lofty clouds.
Dicky, how gay thy cot and fields appear,
Where blooming shrubs the fertile valley cheer;
From yonder hilloc crystal waters spring,
And round thy dwelling form a silver ring.
DICKY .
How much more lovely in the prospect shines
Yon ancient abbey , where the ivy twines
Around the sacred walls, and climbs the tow'r,
Against whose pleasing ruin leans thy bow'r!
CHARLEY .
See how the distant ocean brightly gleams,
Beneath the glowing sun's descending beams!
No daisy-crowded meadow looks so bright,
Sparkling with dew at early morning light,
See where the fertile island forms the bay,
With lofty cliffs in cloud-soft colours gay.
There distant ships that o'er the billows steer
Like waving woods in hazy mists appear.
DICKY .
Behold the clouds like hills and dales are seen,
There shining seas with floating lands between;
See now that moving mountain softly glides,
With tree-hug'd ruins on its shaggy sides,
Where currents seem to murmur down the steep,
To such fair fields as would delight my sheep.
Methinks I there should love to feed my flock,
And slumber on that fleecy-pillow'd rock.
CHARLEY .
Ye weary maids, that labour'd in the heat,
To cut the thistles from the rising wheat,
Now sweetly slumber on the mossy ground,
Near waters murmuring in a lulling sound!
DICKY .
Ye lab'ring swains, who shun the scorching beams
Where spreading oaks meet o'er the cooling streams,
Your task is pleasing, through the shady grove
To teach the willing waters where to rove!
CHARLEY .
To-day at sun-rise, as I sought my fold,
The eastern clouds appear'd like rocks of gold;
I view'd the dazzling scene with true delight,
Till charming Sukey, passing, drew my sight
From those gay glitt'ring objects of the skies,
To softer colours in her lovely eyes!
DICKY .
One ev'ning fair the sky was gayly dress'd;
The glitt'ring sun seem'd ling'ring in the west,
When on yon eastern hill, array'd in white,
My dearest fair receiv'd the glowing light.
Oh! how her beauty charm'd my ravish'd eyes!
She seem'd an angel settled from the skies!
CHARLEY .
See yonder flow'ry lawns beside the spring,
Where buzzing bees delight to work and sing,
There Sukey will to-morrow come to stay;
There wander with me all the live-long day:
And when, retir'd to rest, my weary flock
Pant in the cooling shade of yonder rock;
Then through the wood we hand in hand will rove,
And, like the cooing turtles, murmur love!
DICKEY .
To-morrow Nelly comes my flock to see,
And while she softly whisper'd it to me,
What modest looks she gave! — her eyes how meek!
While a young rose bloom'd wide upon her cheek!
I'll cull the flow'rs that make yon hilloc gay
To deck my fair one like the queen of May:
But in my arms should Nelly fall asleep,
Ah! how neglected then you'll rove, my sheep!
CHARLEY .
Ye idle twins, the fairest of my flock,
That skipping play on yonder thymy rock,
When Sukey comes, to her ye frisking bound,
As in the frost to plats of sunny ground.
Touch not the tainted grass, nor noisome weeds;
Shun the rank verdure near the marshy reeds:
Feed on the richest cowslips in the glade,
And roll on beds of vi'lets in the shade,
Till you breathe fragrance like the honey-combs;
For Sukey's sure to kiss you when she comes.
DICKY .
My jetty lamb, whose beauty shines from far,
Come turn thy forehead, shew thy silver star.
Thy mother perish'd on the frozen plain,
And milk you sought with mournful bleats in vain.
Thee, hapless creature, Nelly warm'd and fed,
And on her bosom strok'd thy drooping head.
Deck'd with a bell, you nodded harmless pride,
Slept in her lap, or wanton'd by her side.
How she thy grateful frolics would admire,
Dancing before her cheerful winter's fire!
JACOB .
Cease, tuneful youths! the pleasure of the plain;
Your songs recall my youthful days again.
Dicky, the hopes of Charley's flute resign;
Nor can I, Charley, call young Dicky's thine.
Sing when you meet, your friendship to increase;
Wagers breed enmity, and spoil your peace!