Long time her Pride and cooler Reason strove
Against the Power of encroaching Love,
In vain — her Cheeks and mournful Eyes declare
The smother'd Passion and the secret Care,
While the dull Youth, whom Beauty ne'er cou'd please,
Who sought no more than Indolence and Ease,
Rang'd o'er the Vallies with his darling Tray,
Or near some Fountain slumber'd out the Day:
All Nymphs he strove (but mostly her) to shun,
And to thick Shades and distant Pastures run:
There the soft Flute his nimble Fingers ply'd,
While his lov'd Dog sat list'ning by his Side.