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HOBBINOL.O that like Colin I had Skill in Rhymes:To purchase Credit with succeeding Times! Sweet Colin Clout! who never yet had Peer,Who sung thro' all the Seasons of the Year.
LANQUET.Let me like Wrenock sing; his Voice had Pow'rTo free the clipsing Moon at Midnight Hour:And, as he sung, the Fairies, with their Queen,In Mantles blue came tripping o'er the Green.
GERON.Here end your pleasing Strife. Both Victors are;And both with Colin may in Rhyme compare. A Boxen Haut-Boy, loud, and sweet of Sound,All varnish'd, and with brazen Ringlets bound,To Both I give. A mizling Mist descendsAdown that steepy Rock: And this way tendsYon distant Rain. Shore-ward the Vessels strive;And, see, the Boys their Flocks to shelter drive:

FINIS.

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