THE

PROGRESS of LOVE.

IN

Four E CLOGUE S.

UNCERTAINTY. ECLOGUE I.

To Mr. POPE,

OPE, to whose reed beneath the beechen shade,

POPE

The nymphs of Thames a pleas'd attention paid;
While yet thy Mufe, content with humbler praise,
Warbled in Windfor's grove her sylvan lays;
Though now fublimely borne on Homer's wing,
Of glorious wars, and godlike chiefs the fing:
Wilt thou with me re-vifit once again
The crystal fountain, and the flow'ry plain?

VOL. II.

A

Wilt

Wilt thou, indulgent, hear my verse relate
The various changes of a lover's state;
And while each turn of paffion I pursue,
Afk thy own heart if what I tell be true?

To the green margin of a lonely wood,

Whose pendent shades o'erlook'd a filver flood,
Young Damon came, unknowing where he ftray'd,
Full of the image of his beauteous maid :

His flock far off, unfed, untended lay,
To ev'ry favage a defenceless prey ;

No fenfe of int'reft could their master move,
And ev'ry care feem'd trifling now but Love.
Awhile in penfive filence he remain'd,

But tho' his voice was mute his looks complain'd;
At length the thoughts within his bofom pent,
Forc'd his unwilling tongue to give them vent.

Ye Nymphs, he cry'd, ye Dryads, who fo long Have favour'd Damon, and infpir'd his fong; For whom, retir'd, I fhun the gay reforts Of fportful cities, and of pompous courts; In vain I bid the reftlefs world adieu, To feek tranquillity and peace with you. Tho' wild Ambition, and destructive Rage, No Factions here can form, no Wars can wage; Tho' Envy frowns not on your humble fhades, Nor Calumny your innocence invades,

Yet cruel Love, that troubler of the breaft,

Too often violates your boasted reft;

With inbred forms disturbs your calm retreat,
And taints with bitterness each rural fweet.

Ah lucklefs day! when firft with fond furprize
On Delia's face I fix'd my eager eyes;
Then in wild tumults all my foul was toft,
Then reason, liberty, at once were loft:
And ev'ry wish, and thought, and care was gone,
But what my heart employ'd on her alone.
Then too she smil'd: can fmiles our peace destroy,
Those lovely children of Content and Joy?
How can foft pleasure and tormenting woe,
From the fame spring at the fame moment flow?
Unhappy boy, these vain enquiries cease,

Thought cou'd not guard, nor will restore thy peace:
Indulge the frenzy that thou muft endure,

And footh the pain thou know'ft not how to cure.
Come, flatt'ring Memory, and tell my heart
How kind fhe was, and with what pleasing art
She ftrove its fondest wishes to obtain,
Confirm her pow'r, and fafter bind my chain.
If on the green we danc'd a mirthful band,
To me alone she gave her willing hand;
Her partial taste, if e'er I touch'd the lyre,
Still in my fong found fomething to admire.

By none but her my crook with flow'rs was crown'd,
By none but her my brows with ivy bound:

The world that Damon was her choice believ'd,
The world, alas! like Damon, was deceiv'd;

When laft I saw her, and declar'd my fire
In words as foft as paffion cou'd inspire,
Coldly fhe heard, and full of fcorn withdrew,
Without one pitying glance, one fweet adieu.
The frighted hind, who fees his ripen'd corn
Up from the roots by fudden tempests torn,
Whofe fairest hopes destroy'd and blafted lie,
Feels not so keen a pang of grief as I.
Ah, how have I deferv'd, inhuman maid,
To have my faithful fervice thus repay'd?
Were all the marks of kindness I receiv'd,
But dreams of joy, that charm'd me and deceiv'd ?
Or did you only nurse my growing love,
That with more pain I might your hatred prove
Sure guilty treachery no place cou'd find

In fuch a gentle, fuch a gen'rous mind :

?

A maid brought up the woods and wilds among,
Cou'd ne'er have learnt the art of courts fo young:
Nó; let me rather think her anger feign'd,
Still let me hope my Delia may be gain'd;

'Twas only modesty that seem'd disdain,
And her heart fuffer'd when she gave me pain.

Pleas'd with this flatt'ring thought, the love-fick boy Felt the faint dawnings of a doubtful joy ;

Back to his flock more cheerful he return'd,

When now the fetting fun lefs fiercely burn'd,
Blue vapours rose along the mazy rills,
And light's last blushes ting'd the distant hills.

HOPE.