This leap fhall put an end to all my pains. snob ¿m
Now cease, my muse, now cease th' Arcadian ftrains. sé
Thus Damon fung while on the cliff he flood,of an 1
Then headlong plung'd into the raging flood.
All with united grief the loss bemoan,
Except the authrefs of his fate alone,

Who hears it with an unrelenting breast.

Ah, cruel nymph! forbear your scorns at least.and How much foe'er you may the love defpife, dien v 'Tis barb'rous to infult on one that dies.

DELIA. A paftoral Eclogue; lamenting the death of Mrs. TEMPEST, who died upon the day of the

late ftorm.

Y

Y

...

E gentle fwains! who pass your days and nights In love's fincere and innocent delights! Ye, tender virgins, who with pride display Your beauty's fplendor, and extend your fway Lament with me! with me your sorrows join, And mingle your united tears with mine! Delia, the queen of love, let all deplore! Delia, the queen of beauty's now no more! ` Begin, my mufe! begin your mournful ftrains! G Tell the fad tale through all the hills and plains Tell it through ev'ry lawn, and ev'ry grove, li Where flocks can wander, or where fhepherds rove!! Bid neighb'ring rivers tell the diftant fea,SPO And winds from pole to pole the news convey! Delia, the queen of love, let all deplore!.. Delia, the queen of beauty's now no more !

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"Tis done, and all obey the mournful mufe best T See hills, and plains, and winds have heard the news! The foaming fea o'erwhelms the frighten'd fhoar, The vallies tremble, and the mountains roar. See lofty oaks from firm foundations torn, And ftately towr's in heaps of ruin mourn! The gentle Thames, that rarely paffion knows, Swells with this forrow, and her banks o'erflows: What fhrieks are heard? what groans? what dying cries? Ev'n nature's felf in dire convulfion lyes!! Delia, the queen of love, they all deplore! Delia, the queen of beauty's now no more! Oh! why did I furvive the fatal day, That fnatch'd the joys of all my life away? Why was not I beneath fome ruin loft? Sunk in the feas, or fhipwreck'd on the coast? Why did the fates fpare this devoted head? Why did I live to hear that thou wert dead? By thee my griefs were calm'd, my torments eas'd; Nor knew I pleasure, but as thou wert pleas'd. Where fhall I wander now, diftress'd, alone? What ufe have I of life, now thou art gone? I have no use, alas! but to deplore

t

Delia, the pride of beauty, now no more.

What living nymph is bleft with equal grace?
All may difpute, but who can fill thy place?
What lover in his mistress hopes to find
A form fo lovely, with fo bright a mind?
Doris may boast a face divinely fair,

But wants thy shape, thy motions, and thy air.
Lucinda has thy fhape, but not those eyes,
That while they did th' admiring world furprize,
Disclos'd the fecret luftre of thy mind,

And feem'd each lover's inmolt thoughts to find.
Others, whofe beauty yielding fwains confess,
By indifcretion make their conqueft lefs,

3

And

And want thy conduct and obliging wit,

To fix thofe flaves who to their charms fubmit. utalto er A As fome rich tyrant hoards an useless store,

That wou'd, well plac'd, enrich a thousand more ; arra
So didft thou keep a crowd of charms retir'd, 'm
Wou'd make a thousand other nymphs admir'd.
Gay, modeft, artless, beautiful, and young;
Slow to refolve, in resolution strong;
To all obliging, yet referv'd to all;

None cou'd himfelf the favour'd lover call;
That which alone cou'd make his hopes endure,
Was, that he faw no other fwain secure.
Whither, ah! whither are thofe graces fled?
Down to the dark, the melancholy shade?
Now, fhepherds, now lament! and now deplore!,,
Delia is dead, and beauty is no more!

For thee each tuneful fwain prepar'd his lays, His fame exalting, while he fung thy praise. Thyrfis, in gay and eafy measures, ftrove... To charm thy ears, and tune thy foul to love. Menalcus, in his numbers more fublime, Extoll'd thy virtues in immortal rhime. Glycon, whofe fatyr kept the world in awe, Softning his strain, when first thy charms he faw, Confefs'd the goddess that new form'd his mind, Proclaim'd thy beauties, and forgot mankind. Ceafe, fhepherds, ceafe; the charms you fung are fled! The glory of our blafted ifle is dead!

Now join your griefs with mine! and now deplore

Delia, the pride of beauty, now no more!

Behold where now the lies, depriv'd of breath!.
Charming tho' pale, and beautiful in death!
A troop of weeping virgins by her fide;
With all the pomp of woe, and forrow's pride!
Oh, early lost! oh, fitter to be led

In chearful fplendor to the bridal bed!

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Than

Than thus conducted to th' untimely tomb,
A fpotlefs virgin, in her beauty's bloom!-
Whatever hopes fuperior merit gave,
Let me, at leaft, embrace thee in the grave:
On thy cold lips imprint à dying kiss:

Oh! that thy coyness cou'd refuse me this!
Such melting tears upon thy limbs I'll pour,
Shall thaw their numbness, and thy warmth reftore;
Clafp'd to my glowing breaft, thou may'st revive;
I'll breathe fuch tender fighs fhall make thee live.
Or if feverer fates that aid deny,

If thou canst not revive, yet I may die.
In one cold grave together may be laid
The trueft lover, and the loveliest maid.
Then fhall I ceafe to grieve, and not before;
Then fhall I cease fair Delia to deplore.

But fee, thofe dreadful objects difappear!
The fun fhines out, and all the heav'ns are clear:
The warring winds are hufht, the fea's ferene,
And nature foften'd shifts her angry scene.
What means this sudden change? methinks I hear
Melodious mufic from the heav'nly sphere !
Liften, ye fhepherds, and devour the found!
Liften! the faint, the lovely faint is crown'd!
While we, mistaken in our joy and grief,
Bewail her fate, who wants not our relief:
From the pleas'd orbs fhe views us here below,
And with kind pity wonders at our woe.

Ah, charming faint! fince thou are bless'd above,
Indulge thy lovers, and forgive their love.

Forgive their tears; who, prefs'd with grief and care, Feel not thy joys, but feel their own despair!

HO

HORAC E.

BOOK III.

T

O DE III.

IMITATE D.

Juftum & tenacem propofiti virum, &c.

I.

HE man that's refolute and juft,
Firm to his principles and trust,
Nor hopes nor fears can blind;
No paffions his designs controul.
Not love, that tyrant of the foul,
Can fhake his fteddy mind.
II.

Nor parties for revenge engag'd,
Nor threat'nings of a court enrag'd,
Nor ftorms where fleets despair:

Nor thunder pointed at his head;
The shatter'd world may strike him dead,

Not touch his foul with fear.

III.

From this the Grecian glory rose,

By this the Romans aw'd their foes:

Of this their poets fing.

These were the paths their heroes trod,
These acts made Hercules a god;
And great Naffau a king.

IV.

Firm on the rowling deck he flood,
Unmov'd, beheld the breaking flood,

With black'ning storms combin'd:
Virtue, he cry'd, will force his way;