30 Where ftray ye, muses, in what lawn or grove, While your Alexis pines in hopeless love? In thofe fair fields where facred Ifis glides, Or else where Cam his winding vales divides? As in the crystal fpring I view my face, Fresh rifing blushes paint the watery glass; But fince thofe graces please thy eyes no more, I fhun the fountains which I fought before. Once I was skill'd in every herb that grew, And every plant that drinks the morning dew; Ah, wretched fhepherd, what avails thy art, To cure thy lambs, but not to heal thy heart! Let other fwains attend the rural care, Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces fheer: But nigh yon' mountain let me tune my lays, Enbrace my love, and bind my brows with bays. That flute is mine whieh Colin's tuneful breath Infpir'd when living, and bequeath'd in death: 40 He faid; Alexis, take this pipe, the fame That taught the groves my Rofalinda's name : But now the reeds fhall hang on yonder tree, For ever filent, fince defpis'd by thee. O! were I made by fome transforming power The captive bird that fings within thy bower! Then might my voice thy liftening ears employ, And I thofe kiffes he receives enjoy. And yet my numbers please the rural throng, Rough Satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the fong 50 The nymphs, forfaking every cave and spring, Their early fruit and milk-white turtles bring! VARIATIONS. Ver. 27. Oft in the crystal spring I caft a view, Each amorous nymph prefers her gifts in vain, 60 See what delights in fylvan fcenes appear! Defcending Gods have found Elysium here. In woods bright Venus with Adonis stray'd, And chafte Diana haun s the foreft shade. Come, lovely nymph, and bless the silent hours, When fwains from theering feek their nightly bowers; When weary reapers quit the fultry field, But fee, the fhepherds fhun the noon-day heat, VARIATIONS. Ver. 79, 80. 99 Your praife the tuneful birds to heaven fhall bear, And listening wolves grow milder as they hear, So the verses were originally written; but the author, young as he was, foon found the abfurdity, which Spenfer himself overlooked, of introducing wolves into England. Ver. 91. Me love inflames, nor will his fires allay. AUTUM N. THE THIRD PASTORAL, OR HYLAS AND ÆGON. TO MR. WY CHERLY. groan. Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! 30 Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along! The birds fhall ceafe to tune their evening fong, 40 The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move, And freams to murmur, ere I ccafe to love. Not bubbling fountains to the thirsty swain, Not balmy fleep to labourers faint with pain, VOL. VIII. Not fhowers to larks, or funshine to the bee, Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! Next Egon fung, while Windfor groves adRehearse, ye mufes, what yourselves infpir'd. Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful strain ! Of perjur'd Doris, dying I complain; Here where the mountains, leffening as they rife, Lofe the low vales, and fteal into the fkies; While labouring oxen, fpent with toil and heat, In their loose traces from the field retreat; While curling fmokes from village tops are feen, And the fleet fhades glide o'er the dusky green. 60 Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful lay! Beneath yon' poplar oft we pais'd the day: Oft on the rind I carv'd her amorous vows, While fhe with garlands hung the bending boughs: The garlands fade, the vows are worn away; So dies her love, and fo my hopes decay. Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful frain Now bright Arcturus glads the teeming grain; Now golden fruits on loaded branches fhine, And grateful clusters fwell with floods of wine; Now blushing berries paint the yellow grove; Juft gods! fhall all things yield returns but love! Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful lay! The fhepherds cry," Thy flocks are left a prey." Ah what avails it me, the flocks to keep, Who loft my heart while I preferv'd my fheep? 8 Pan came, and afk'd, what magic caus'd my smart, Or what ill eyes malignant glauces dart? VARIATION. Ver. 48. Originally thus in the MS. With him through Libya's burning plains I'll go, On Alpine mountains tread th' eternal (now; Yet feel no heat but what our loves impart, And dread no coldness but in Thirfie' beart. B What eyes but hers, alas, have power to move! And is there magic but what dwells in love? Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful ftrains! I'll fly from thepherds, flocks, and flowery plains. From shepherds, flocks, and plains, I may remove, Forfake mankind, and all the world-but love! I know thee, Love! on foreign mountains bred, Wolves gave thee fuck, and favage tigers fed. 90 Thou wert from Ætna's burning entrails torn, Got by fierce whirlinds, and in thunder born! WINTER. THE FOURTH PASTORAL, OR DAPHNE. TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. TEMPEST. 3. 'Tis done, and nature's various charms decay : See gloomy clouds obfcure the cheerful day! Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear, Their faded honours scatter'd on her bier. See where, on earth, the flowery glories lie! With her they flourish'd and with her they die. Ah, what avail the beauties nature wore? Fair Daphne's dead, and beauty is no more! For her the flocks refufe their verdant food, The thirsty heifers fhun the gliding flood; The filver fwans her hapless fate bemoan, In notes more fad than when they fing their In hollow caves fweet Echo filent lies, No grateful dews defcend from evening fkies, VARIATIONS. Ver. 29. Originally thus in the MS. 'Tis done, and nature's chang'd fince you are gone; Behold, the clouds have "put their mourning on." 80 No more the mounting larks, while Daphne fings, | In fome ftill evening, when the whispering breeze Pants on the leaves, and dies upon the trees Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise fhall live! MESSIA H. A SACRED ECLOGUE. IN IMITATION OF VIRGIL'S POLLIO. ADVERTISEMENT. In reading feveral paffages of the prophet Isaiah, which foretel the coming of Christ, and the felicities 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 reflect, that the Eclogue was taken from a Sibylline prophecy on the same subject. One may judge that Virgil did not copy it line for line; but selected fuch ideas as best agreed with the nature of Paftoral Poetry, and difpofed them in that manner which ferved most to beautify his piece I have endeavoured the fame in this imitation of him, though without admitting any thing of my own; fince it was writ ten with this particular view, that the reader, by comparing the several thoughts, might fee 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 subjoin the passages of Isaiah, and those of Virgil, under the fame disadvantage of a literal tranflation. |