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Shall be our Ev'ning Fare: And for the Night,Sweet Herbs and Moss, that gentle Sleep invite. And now behold the Sun's departing RayO'er yonder Hill, the Sign of Ebbing Day. With Songs the jovial Hinds return from Plow,And unyoak'd Heifers, pacing homeward, low.

The Third Pastoral.

ALBINO.When Virgil thought no Shame the Dorick ReedTo tune, and Flocks on Mantuan Plains to feed,With young Augustus Name he grac'd his Song;And Spencer, when amid the rural ThrongHe carol'd sweet, and graz'd along the FloodOf gentle Thames, made ev'ry sounding WoodWith good Eliza's Name to ring around;Eliza's Name on ev'ry Tree was found. Since then, thro' Anna's Cares at Ease we live,And see our Cattle in full Pastures thrive;Like them will I my slender Musick raise,And teach the Vocal Vallies Anna's Praise. Mean time, on Oaten Pipe a lowly Lay,While my Kids brouze, obscure in Shades I play:Yet not obscure, while Dorset thinks not ScornTo Visit Woods, and Swains ignobly born. Two Country Swains, both Musical, both Young,In Friendship's Mutual Bonds united long,Retir'd within a Mossy Cave, to shunThe Croud of Shepherds, and the Noon-day Sun A Melancholy Thought possess'd their Mind:Revolving now the solemn Day they find,When young Albino dy'd. His Image dearBedews their Cheeks with many a trickling Tear;To Tears they add the Tribute of their Verse;These Angelot, those Palin did rehearse.

ANGELOT.

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