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Poem	When such a day, blesst the Arcadian plaine, Warm without Sun, and shady without rain, Fann'd by an air, that scarsly bent the flowers, Or wav'd the woodbines, on the summer bowers, The Nymphs disorder'd beauty cou'd not fear, Nor ruffling winds uncurl'd the Shepheards hair, On the fresh grasse, they trod their measures light, And a long Evening made, from noon, to night. Come then my Dafnis, from those cares descend Which better may the winter season spend. Come, and the pleasures of the feilds, survey, And throo' the groves, with your Ardelia stray. Reading the softest Poetry, refuse, To veiw the subjects of each rural muse; Nor lett the busy compasses go round, When faery Cercles better mark the ground. Rich Colours on the Vellum cease to lay, When ev'ry lawne much nobler can display, When on the daz'ling poppy may be seen A glowing red, exceeding your carmine; And for the blew that o're the Sea is borne, A brighter rises in our standing corn. Come then, my Dafnis, and the feilds survey, And throo' the groves, with your Ardelia stray. Come, and lett Sansons World, no more engage, Altho' he gives a Kingdom in a page; O're all the Vniverse his lines may goe, And not a clime, like temp'rate brittan show, Come then, my Dafnis, and her feilds survey, And throo' the groves, with your Ardelia stray. Nor plead that you're immur'd, and cannot yield, That mighty Bastions keep you from the feild, Think not tho' lodg'd in Mons, or in Namur, You're from my dangerous attacks secure. No, Louis shall his falling Conquests fear, When by succeeding Courriers he shall hear Appollo, and the Muses, are drawn down, To storm each fort, and take in ev'ry Town. Vauban, the Orphean Lyre, to mind shall call, That drew the stones to the old Theban Wall, And make no doubt, if itt against him play, They, from his works, will fly as fast away, Which to prevent, he shall to peace persuade, Of strong, confederate Syllables, affraid. Come then, my Dafnis, and the fields survey, And throo' the Groves, with your Ardelia stray. Come, and attend, how as we walk along, Each chearfull bird, shall treat us with a song, Nott such as Fopps compose, where witt, nor art, Nor plainer Nature, ever bear a part; The Cristall springs, shall murmure as we passe, But not like Courtiers, sinking to disgrace; Nor, shall the louder Rivers, in their fall, Like unpaid Saylers, or hoarse Pleaders brawle; But all shall form a concert to delight, And all to peace, and all to love envite. Come then, my Dafnis, and the feilds survey, And throo' the Groves, with your Ardelia stray. As Baucis and Philemon spent their lives, Of husbands he, the happyest she, of wives, When throo' the painted meads, their way they sought, Harmlesse in act, and unperplext in thought, Lett us my Dafnis, rural joys persue, And Courts, or Camps, not ev'n in fancy view. So, lett us throo' the Groves, my Dafnis stray, And so, the pleasures of the feilds, survey.
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