While a kind glance at her pursuer flies',
How much at variance are her feet and eyes!

STREPHON.

O'er golden sands let rich Pactolus flow,
And trees weep amber on the banks of Po;
Bright Thames's shores the brightest beauties yield,
Feed here my lambs, I'll seek no distant field.

DAPHNIS.

Celestial Venus haunts Idalia's groves;
Diana Cynthus, Ceres Hybla loves;

If Windsor-shades delight the matchless maid,
Cynthus and Hybla yield to Windsor-shade.

STREPHON.

All nature mourns, the skies relent in showers, Hush'd are the birds, and closed the drooping flowers; If Delia smile, the flowers begin to spring, The skies to brighten, and the birds to sing.

DAPHNIS.

All nature laughs, the groves are fresh and fair,
The sun's mild lustre warms the vital air;
If Sylvia smiles, new glories gild the shore,
And vanquish'd nature seems to charm no more.

STREPHON.

In spring the fields, in autumn hills I love,
At morn the plains, at noon the shady grove,
But Delia always; absent from her sight,
Nor plains at morn, nor groves at noon delight.

DAPHNIS.

Sylvia's like autumn ripe, yet mild as May, More bright than noon, yet fresh as early day; Even spring displeases, when she shines not here; But blest with her, 'tis spring throughout the year.

STREPHON.

Say, Daphnis, say, in what glad soil appears, A wondrous tree that sacred monarchs bears;

i Imitation of Virgil

"Malo me Galatea petit, lasciva puella,

Et fugit ad salices, sed se cupit ante videri."

"Aret ager, vitio moriens sitit aëris herba," &c.
"Phyllidis adventu nostræ nemus omne virebit."-VIRG.

k An allusion to the Royal Oak, in which Charles II. had been hid from the pursuit after the battle at Worcester.

Tell me but this, and I'll disclaim the prize,
And give the conquest to thy Sylvia's eyes.

DAPHNIS.

Nay tell me first, in what more happy fields The thistle springs, to which the lily yields': And then a nobler prize I will resign;

For Sylvia, charming Sylvia, shall be thine.

DAMON.

Cease to contend, for, Daphnis, I decree, The bowl to Strephon, and the lamb to thee: Blest swains, whose nymphs in every grace excel; Blest nymphs, whose swains those graces sing so well! Now rise, and haste to yonder woodbine bowers, A soft retreat from sudden vernal showers; The turf with rural dainties shall be crown'd, While opening blooms diffuse their sweets around. For see! the gathering flocks to shelter tend, And from the Pleiads fruitful showers descend.

SUMMER:

THE SECOND PASTORAL, OR, ALEXIS.

TO DR. GARTH.

A SHEPHERD'S boy (he seeks no better name)
Led forth his flocks along the silver Thame,
Where dancing sun-beams on the waters play'd ",
And verdant alders form'd a quivering shade.
Soft as he mourn'd, the streams forgot to flow,
The flocks around a dumb compassion show,

1 Alludes to the device of the Scots monarchs, the thistle, worn by Queen Anne; and to the arms of France, the fleur-de-lys. The two riddles are in imitation of those in Virg. Ecl. iii.

"Dic, quibus in terris inscripti nomina Regum

Nascantur Flores, et Phyllida solus habeto."

The scene of this pastoral by the river side, suitable to the heat of the season; the time, noon.

The Naiads wept in every watery bower,
And Jove consented in a silent shower ".

Accept, O GARTH! the Muse's early lays,
That adds this wreath of ivy to thy bays;
Hear what from Love unpractised hearts endure,
From Love, the sole disease thou canst not cure.
Ye shady beeches, and ye cooling streams,
Defence from Phoebus', not from Cupid's beams,
To you I mourn, nor to the deaf I sing P,
The woods shall answer, and their echo ring ".
The hills and rocks attend my doleful lay,
Why art thou prouder and more hard than they?
The bleating sheep with my complaints agree,
They parch'd with heat, and I inflamed by thee.
The sultry Sirius burns the thirsty plains,
While in thy heart eternal winter reigns.

Where stray ye, Muses, in what lawn or grove',
While your Alexis pines in hopeless love?
In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides,
Or else where Cam his winding vales divides?
As in the crystal spring I view my face,
Fresh-rising blushes paint the watery glass;
But since those graces please thy eyes no more,
I shun the fountains which I sought before.
Once I was skill'd in every herb that grew,
And every plant that drinks the morning dew;
Ah, wretched shepherd, what avails thy art,
To cure thy lambs, but not to heal thy heart!
Let other swains attend the rural care,
Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces shear:
But nigh yon mountain let me tune my lays,

n "Jupiter et læto descendet plurimus imbri."-VIRG.

Dr. Samuel Garth, author of "The Dispensary," was one of the first friends of our poet, whose acquaintance with him began at fourteen or fifteen. Their friendship continued from the year 1703 to 1718, which was that of his death.

P "Non canimus surdis, respondent omnia sylvæ."-VIRG.

9 A line out of Spenser's Epithalamion.

r "Quæ nemora, aut qui vos saltus habuere, puellæ
Naïdes, indigno cum Gallus amore periret?
Nam neque Parnassi vobis juga, nam neque Pindi
Ulla moram fecere, neque Aonia Aganippe."

VIRG. Out of THEOC.

Virgil again, from the Cyclops of Theocritus

"Nuper me in littore vidi,

Cum placidum ventis staret mare; non ego Daphnim,
Judice te, metuam, si nunquam fallat imago."

t

Embrace my love, and bind my brows with bays.
That flute is mine which Colin's tuneful breath
Inspired when living, and bequeath'd in death "
He said; Alexis, take this pipe, the same
That taught the groves my Rosalinda's name :
But now the reeds shall hang on yonder tree,
For ever silent, since despised by thee.
Oh! were I made by some transforming power
The captive bird that sings within thy bower!
Then might my voice thy listening ears employ,
And I those kisses he receives enjoy.

And yet my numbers please the rural throng,
Rough satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song:
The nymphs, forsaking every cave and spring,
Their early fruit and milk-white turtles bring!
Each amorous nymph prefers her gifts in vain,
On
you their gifts are all bestow'd again.

For you the swains their fairest flowers design,
And in one garland all their beauties join;
Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,
In whom all beauties are comprised in one.

See what delights in sylvan scenes appear!
Descending gods have found Elysium here.
In woods bright Venus with Adonis stray'd,
And chaste Diana haunts the forest-shade.
Come, lovely nymph, and Lless the silent hours,
When swains from shearing seek their nightly bowers;
When weary reapers quit the sultry field,

And crown'd with corn their thanks to Ceres yield.
This harmless grove no lurking viper hides,
But in my breast the serpent Love abides.
Here bees from blossoms sip the rosy dew,
But your Alexis knows no sweets but you.
O deign to visit our forsaken seats,

The mossy fountains, and the green retreats!
Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade,
Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade:

The name taken by Spenser in his Eclogues, where his mistress is celebrated under that of Rosalinda.

"Est mihi disparibus septem compacta cicutis

Fistula, Damætas dono mihi quam dedit olim,

Et dixit moriens, Te nunc habet ista secundum."-VIRG. Ecl. ii.

"Habitarunt Di quoque sylvas."-VIRG.

"Et formosus oves ad flumina pavit Adonis."-Idem.

Where'er you tread, the blushing flowers shall rise,
And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
O! how I long with you to pass my days,
Invoke the Muses, and resound your praise !
Your praise the birds shall chant in every grove,
And winds shall waft it to the powers above ".
But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain,
The wondering forests soon should dance again.
The moving mountains hear the powerful call,
And headlong streams hang listening in their fall!
But see, the shepherds shun the noon-day heat,
The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat,
To closer shades the panting flocks remove;
Ye gods and is there no relief for love?
But soon the sun with milder rays descends
To the cool ocean, where his journey ends.
On me Love's fiercer flames for ever prey,
By night he scorches, as he burns by day.

AUTUMN:

THE THIRD PASTORAL, OR HYLAS AND EGON.

W

TO MR. WYCHERLEY.

BENEATH the shade a spreading beech displays,
Hylas and Egon sung their rural lays;
This mourn'd a faithless, that an absent love,
And Delia's name and Doris' fill'd the grove.
Ye Mantuan nymphs, your sacred succour bring;
Hylas and Ægon's rural lays I sing.

Thou, whom the Nine with Plautus' wit inspire, The art of Terence, and Menander's fire;

"Partem aliquam, venti, divûm referatis ad aures."-VIRG.

"Me tamen urit amor, quis enim modus adsit amori?"-VIRG.

y This pastoral consists of two parts, like the eighth of Virgil: The scene, a hill; the time at sun-set.

Mr. Wycherley, a famous author of comedies; of which the most celebrated were the Plain Dealer and Country Wife. He was a writer of infinite spirit, satire, and wit. The only objection made to him was,