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The Naiads wept in every watery bower, Each amorous nymph prefers her gifts in vain, And Jove consented in a silent shower.

On you their gifts are all bestow'd again, Accept, O Garth, the muse's early lays,

For you the Swains the fairest flowers design, That adds this wreath of ivy to thy bays ; And in one garland all their beauties join ; Hear what fri in love unpractis'd hearts endure, Accept the wreath which you deserve alone, From love, the sole diseale thou canst not cure. In whom all beauties are compris'd in one.

Ye shady beeches, and ye cooling streams, See what delights in sylvan scenes appear! Defence from Phæbus', not from Cupid's beams, Descending Gods have found Elysium here. 66 To you I mourn; nor to the deaf I fing,

lo woods bright Venus with Adonis Itray'd, The woods shall answer, and their echo ring. And chaste Diana haun s the foreft shade. The bills and rocks attend my doleful lay, Come, lovely nyopli, and bless the fileat hours, Why art thou prouder and more hard than they? When swains from theering seek their rightly The bleating sheep with my complaints agree,

They parch'd with heat, and I infam'd by thec. 20 When weary reapers quit the sultry field,
The ultry Sirius burns the thirsty plains, And crown'd with corn their thanks to Ceres yield.
While in thy heart ecernal winter reigns.

This harmless grove no lurking viper hides,
Where Aray ye, muscs, in whai lawn or grove, But in my breast the ferpent Love abides.
While your Alexis pines in hopeless love? Here bees from blossoms fip the rofy dew,
In those fair fields where sacred lsis glides, But your Alexis knows no sweets but you.
Or else where Cam his winding vales divides? Oh deign to visit our forsaken seats,
As in the crysal spring 1 view my face,

The mossy fountains, and the green retreats!
Fresh rising blushes paint the watery glass; Where'er you walk, cool gaies shall fan the glade;
But since those graces please thy eyes no more, Trees, where you fit, fhall crowd into a shade :
I shun the fountains which I fought before, 30 Where'er you tread, the blushing flowers shall rise,
Once I was skill'd in every herb that grew, And all things flourish where you turn your eyes
And every plant that drinks the morning dew; Oh! how I ling with you to pass my days,
Ah, wretched shepherd, what avails thy art, Invoke the muses, and resound your praise !
To cure thy lambs, but not to heal thy heart ! Your praise the birds shall chant in every grove,
Let other swains attend the rural care,

And winds shall waft it to the powers above. 86 Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces sheer :

But would you sing, and rival Orphcus' strain, But nigh yon' mountain let me tune my lays, The wonderiog forests soon Mould dance again, Einbrace my love, and bind my brows with bays. T'he moving mountains hear the powerful call, That flute is mine which Colin's tuncful breath And headlong streams hang listening in their fall: Inspir'd when living, and bequeath'd in death : 40 But see, the fhepherds thun the noon-day hear, He said; Alexis, take this pipe, the same

l'he lowing herds to murm'ring brooks retreat, That taught the groves my Rosalinda's name : To closer thades the panting flocks remove; But now the reeds shall hang on yonder tree, Ye gods, and is there no relief for love ! For ever filent, since despis'd by thee.

But soon the sun with milder ray- descends O! were I made by some transforming power To the cool ocean, where his journey ends : go The captive bird that sings within thy bower! On me love's fiercer flames for ever prey, Then might my voice thy liftening ears employ, By night he scorches, as he burns by day. And I those kifles he receives enjoy.

And yet my numbers please the rural throng, Rough Satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song 50

VARIATIONS. 'The nymphs, forlaking every cave and spring,

Ver. 79, 80.
Their early fruit and milk-white curtles bring !

Your praise the tuneful birds to heaven shall bear,
And listening wolves grow milder as they hear.

So the verses were originally written; but the au-

thor, young as he was, foon found the absurdity, Oft in the crystal spring I cast a view,

which Spenter himself overlooked, of introducing And equallid Hylas, if the glass be true ;

wolves into England. But fince those graces meet my eyes no more, Ver. 91. Me love inflames, nor will his fires allay. | ļaun, &c.

Ver. 27.

A U T U M N.





BextATu the shade a spreading beech displays,

Not showers to larks, or sunshine to the bec, Hylas and Ægon sang their rural lays :

Are half so charming as thy light to me. This mourn'd a faithless, that an absent love; Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away! And Delia's name and Dori's fill'd the grove.

Come, Delia, come; ah, why this long delay? Ye Mantuan nympbs, your sacred succour bring; Through rocks and caves the name of Delia sounds, Hylas and Ægon's rural lays 1 fing.

Delir, each cave and echoing rock rebounds. 50 Thou, whom the nine with Plautus’ wit inspire, Ye powers, what pleasing frenzy foothes my mind! The art of Terence and Menander's fire; Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind? Whose sense instrucs us, and whose humour charms, she comes, my Delia comes :-Now cease my lay, Whose judgment (ways us, and whose spirit | And cease, ge gales, to bear my fighs away! (mir'd; warmis!

Next Ægon sung, while Windsor groves ada Oh, skill'd in Nature ! see the hearts of swains, Rehearse, ye muses, what yourselves inspir’d. Their artless paffions, and their tender pains. Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strain : Now setting Phæbus fhone serenely bright,

Of perjur'd Doris, dying I complain; And fleecy clouds were streak'd with purple light; Here where the mountains, lessening as they rise, When tuneful Hylas, with melodious moan,

Lose the low vales, and steal into the skies; 60 Taught rocks to weep, and made the mountains While labouring oxen, spent with toil and heat,

In their loose traces from the field retreat; groan. Go, gentle gales, and bear my lighs away!

While curling (mokes from village tops are seen, To Delia's ear the tender notes convey,

And the flect shades glide o'er the duiky green. As fome sad turtle his loft love deplores,

Resound, ye hills, resound my monrosul lay! And with deepmurmurs fills the foundingshores; 20 Beneath yon poplar oft we pals'd the day: Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I mourn,

Oft on the rind I carv'd her amorous vows, Alike unheard, unpity'd, and forlorn.

While she with garlands hung the bending boughs: Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along !

The garlands fade, the vows are worn away; For her, the feather'd quites negle& their song ;

So dies her love, and so my hopes decay. 70 For ber, the limes their pleasing shades dedy;

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful frain: For her, the lilies hang their heads and die.

Now bright Arcturus glads the tecming grain ; Ye flowers that droop, forsaken by the spring,

Now golden fruits on loaded branches shine, Ye birds that, left by summer, ccafe to ling,

And grateful clusters fwell with floods of wine; Ye trees that fade when autumn heats temove,

Now blushing berries paint the yellow grove ; Say, is not absence death to those who love?


Just gods ! fail all things yield returns but love! Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournsul lay! Curs'd be the fields that cause my Delia's stay;

The shepherds cry,“ Thy flocks are lest a prey." Fade every blossom, wither ever tree,

Ah! what avails ic me, the flocks to keep, Die every flower, and perilh all, but she.

Who lost my heart while I preserv'd my ineep? 80 What have 1 faid? where'er my Delia flies,

Pan came, and ask'd, what magic caus'd my smart,
Let spring attend, and sudden flowers arise! Or what ill eyes malignant glances dart ?
Let opening roses knotted oaks adorn,
And liquid amber drop from every thorn.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my lighs along!
The birds shall cease to tune their evening song, 40

Ver. 48. Originally thus in the MS.
The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move, with him through Libya's burning plains l'Il go,
And dreams to murmur, ere I cease to love. On Alpine mountains tread th' eternal (now;
Not bubbling fountains to the thirsty swain, Yet feel no heat but wha: our loves impart,
Not balmy leep to labourers faint with pain,

And dread so coldness but in Thirfa' beast. VOL. VIII.



What eyes but hers, alas, have power to move ! Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay! And is there magic but what dwells in love ? Farewell, ye woods, adieu the light of day!

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strains! One leap from yonder cliff, shall end my pains ; I'll fly from thepherds, flocks, and flowery plains. No more, ye hills, no more resound my strains ! From shepherds, flocks, and plains, I may remove, Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of Forsake mankind, and all the world—but love!

night, I know thee, Love! on foreign mountains bred, The skies yet blushing with departing light, Wolves gave thee fuck, and savage tigers fed. 90 When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade, Thou wert from Æna's burning entrails torn, And the low sun had lengthen'd every shade. 100 Got by fiexe whirlinds, and in thunder bora!






'Tis done, and nature's various charms decay : Tarrsis, the music of that murmuring spring Sce gloomy clouds obscure the cheerful day! 3 Is not so mournful as the strains you sing ; Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear, Nor rivers winding through the vales below, Their faded honours scatter'd on her bier. So sweetly warble, or so smoothly flow.

See where, on earth, the flowery glories lie! Now sleeping flocks on their soft fleeces lic, With her they flourish'd and with her they die. The moon, serene in glory, mounts the sky, Ah, what avail the beauties nature wore? While filent birds forget their tuneful lays, Fair Daphne's dead, and beauty is no more! O sing of Daphne's fate, and Daphne's praise ! For her the flocks refuse their verdant food,

The thirsty heifers thun the gliding flood; Behold the groves that shine with silver frost, The silver swans her hapless fate bemoan, Their beauty wither'd, and their verdure loft. 10 In notes more sad than when they fing their Here Mall I try the sweet Alexis' ftrain,

own ; That callid the listening Dyrades to the plain? In hollow caves sweet Echo filent lies, Thames heard the numbers, as he flow'd along, Silent, or only to her name replies; And bade his willows learn the moving song. Her name with pleasure once The taught the shore,

Now Daphne's dead, and pleasure is no more! So may kind rains their vital moisture yield, No grateful dews descend from evening skics, And swell the future harvest of the field.

Nor morning odours from the flowers ariie; Begin; this charge the dying Daphne gave, No rich perfumes refresh the fruitsul field, And said, “ Ye shepherds, fing around my grave!" Nor fragrant herbs their native incense yield. Sing, while beside the shaded tomb I mourn, The balmy zephyrs, silent since her death, And with fresh bays her rural shrine adorn. Lament the cealing of a sweeter breath ;

Th'industrious bees neglect their golden fore; Ye gentle muses, leave your crystal spring, Fair Daphoe's dead, and sweetness is no more! Let Nymphs and Sylvans cypress garlands bring; Ye weeping loves, the stream with myrtles hide, And break your bows as wheri Adonis dy'd; And with your golden darts, now useless grown,

VARIATIONS. Inscribe a verse on this relenting stone:

Ver. 29. Originally thus in the MS. " Let nature change, let heaven and earth deplore, / 'Tis done, and nature's chang'd since you are gone; " Fair Daphoe's dead, and love is now no more" Behold, the clouds have" put their mourning on."





No more the mountinglarkis, while Daphne sings, In some fill evening, when the whispering breeze Shall, listening in mid air, suspend their wings; Pants on the leaves, and dies upon the trees 80 No more the birds shall imitate her layu,

To thee bright goddess, oft a lamb shall bleed, Or, hush'd with wonder, hearken from the sprays; If teeming ewes increase my fleecy breed, No more the streams their wonder shall forbear, While plants their shade, or flowers their odouro A sweeter music than their own to hear;

give, Bat tell the reeds, and tell the vocal Thore, Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise shall live! Fair Daphne's dead, and music is no mote! 60

Her face is whisper'd by the gentle breeze, But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews;
And told in sighs to all the trembling trees; Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse;
The trembling trees, in every plain and wood, Sharp Boreas blows, and nature feels decay,
Her fate remurmur to the silver food:

Time conquers al), and we niuft time obey.
The filver flood, so lately calm, appears

Adieu, ye vales, ye mountains, streams, and groves,
Swell'd with new pallion, and o'erflows with tears; Adieu, ye shepherds' rural lays and loves; 90
The winds, and trees, and foods, her death de- Adieu, my flocks; farewell, ye Sylvan crew;

Daphne, farewell; and all the world adicu!
Daphne, our grief! our glory now no more!
But see! where Daphne wondering mounts on

Above the clouds, above the starry sky!
Eternal beauties grace the shining scene,

Ver. 83. Originally thus in the MS. Ficids ever fresh, and groves for ever green!

While vapours rise, and driving snows descend, There while you relt in amaranthine bowers,

Thy honour, name, and praise, shall never end. Or from those meads select unfading flowers, Behold us kindly, who your name implore, Daphne, our goddess, and our grief no more !

Ver. 89, &c.] These four last lines allude to the LYCIDAS.

several subjects of the four Pastorals, and to the reHow all things listen, while thy muse complains! veral scenes of them particularised before in each. Buch filence waits on Philomela', strains,









În reading several passages of the prophet Isaiah, which foretel the coming of Christ, and the feli.

cities attending it, I could not but observe a remarkable parity between many of the thoughts, and those in the Pollio of Virgil. This will not seem surprising, when we reflex, that the Eclogue was taken from a Sibylline prophecy on the same subje&t. One may judge that Virgil did not copy it line for line; but selected such ideas as best agreed with the nature of Pastoral Poetry, and disposed them in that manner which served most to beautify his piece I have endeavoured the fame in this imitation of him, though without admitting any thing of my own; since it was writ. ten with this particular view, that the reader, by comparing the several thoughts, might see how far the images and descriptions of the prophet are superior to those of the poet. But as I fear I have prejudiced them by my management, I shall suhjoin the passages of Isaiah, and those of Vir. gil, under the same disadvantage of a literal translation.

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