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In vain to stop it I essay'd,
Then, gentle Cupid, let me ne'er Though often, often, I display'd
See my imaginary fair: The turns and doubles women made.
Lest she should be more heavenly bright Nay more, when it has home return'd,
Than can be reach'd by Fancy's height: By some proud maid ill-us'd and scorn'd,
Lest (when I on her beauty gaze, I still the renegade carest,
Confounded, lost in an amaze; And gave it harbour in my breast.
My trembling lips and eyes should tell, 0! then, with indignation fir'd
'Tis her I dare to love so well) At what before it so admir'd;
She, with an angry, scornful eye, With shame and sorrow overcast,
Or some unkind, severe reply, And sad repentance for the past,
My hopes of bliss should overcast, A thousand sacred oaths it swore
And my presuming passion blast. Never to wander from me more;
If but in this thou kind wilt prove, After chimeras ne'er to rove,
And let me not see her I love, Or run the wild-goose chase of Love.
Thy altars prostrate I 'll adore,
And call thee tyrant-god no more.
DAPHNE. It took again its fatal flight. 'Tis thus, malicious deity,
Sicilian Muse, my humble voice inspire That thou has banter'd wretched me;
To sing of Daphne's charms and Damon's fire. Thus made me vainly lose my time,
Long had the faithful swain supprest his grief, Thus fool away my youthful prime;
And, since he durst not hope, ne'er ask'd relief. And yet, for all the hours I 've lost,
But at th' arrival of the fatal day And sighs, and tears, thy bondage cost,
That took the nymph and all his joys away, Ne'er did thy slave thy favours bless,
With dying looks he gaz'd upon the fair, Or crown his passion with success.
And what his tongue could not, his eyes declare; Well-since 'tis doom'd that I must find
Till with deep sighs, as if his heartstrings broke, No love for love from womankind;
Pressing her hand, these tender things he spoke: Since I nu pleasure must obtain, Let me at least avoid the pain: So weary of the chase I’m grown,
Ah, lovely nymph! behold your lover burn, That with content I'd sit me down,
And view that passion which you 'll not return. Enjoy my book, my friend, my cell,
As no nymph's charms did ever equal thine, And bid all womankind farewell.
So no swain's love did ever equal mine: Nay, ask for all I felt before,
How happy, fair, how happy should I be, Only to be disturb'd no more.
Might I but sacrifice myself for thee! Yet thou (to my complainings deaf)
Could I but please thee with my dying verse, Wilt give my torments no relief;
And make thee shed one tear upon my hearse! thou mak'st me die, And love I know not whom, por why, In every part I feel the fire,
Too free an offer of that love you make, And burn with fanciful desire;
Which now, alas! I have not power to take: From whence can love its magic draw?
Your wounds I cannot, though I would, relieve; I doat on her I never saw :
Phaon has all the love that I can give. And who, but lovers, can express
Had you among the rest at first assail'd This strange, mysterious tenderness?
My heart, when free, you had, perhaps, prevail'd. And yet methinks 'tis happier so,
Now if you blame, oh, blame not me, but Fate, Than whom it is I love to know :
That never brought you 'till 'twas grown too late Now my unbounded notions rove,
Had the Fates brought me then, too charming fair, Diviner both in face and mind,
I could not hope, and now I must despair. Than ever Nature did bestow
Rul'd by your friends, you quit the lover's flame, On any creature here below.
For flocks, for pastures, for an empty name. I fancy thus Corinna walks,
Yet though the blest possession Fate denies, That thus she sings, she looks, she talks.
Oh, let me gaze for ever on those eyes : Sometimes I sigh, and fancy then,
So just, so true, so innocent 's my flame,
That Phaon, did he see it, could not blame.
Such generous ends I know you still pursue, I pleasingly myself deceive;
What I can do, be sure I will for you. And sure am happier far than he
If on esteem or pity you can live, Who knows the very truth can be.
Or hopes of more, if I bad more to give,
Those you may have, but cannot have my heart: Seek out some other nymph, nor e'er repine
That one who likes his songs, should fly from thine.” Such noble thoughts through all your life express, Ah, Lycon! ah! your rage false dangers forms; May make the value more, the pity less.
'Tis not his songs, but 'tis his fortune charms: Yet, scornful maid, in time you'll find those toys
Can yield no real, no substantial joys; Can you then go ? Can you for ever part,
In vain his wealth, his titles gain esteem, (Yegods! what shivering pains surround my heart!) If for all that you are asham'd of him. And have one thought to make your pity less ? Ah, Galatea, would'st thou turn those eyes, Ah, Daphne! could I half my pangs express, Would'st thou but once vouchsafe to hear my cries; You could not think, though hard as rocks you were, In such soft notes I would my pains impart, Your pity ever could too great appear.
As could not fail to move thy rocky heart; I ne'er shall be one moment free from pain,
With such sweet songs I would thy fame make known, Till I behold those charming eyes again.
As Pan himself might not disdain to own. When gay diversions do your thoughts employ,
Oh could'st thou, fair-one, but contented be I would not come to interrupt the joy ; But when from them you some spare moment find; To have thy praises echo'd through the groves,
To tend the sheep, and chase the hares, with me; Think then, oh think, on whom you leave behind! And pass thy days with one who truly loves : Think with what heart I shall behold the green,
Nor let those gaudy toys thy heart surprise, Where I so oft those charming eyes have seen!
Which the fools envy, and the sage despise. Think with what grief I walk the groves alone,
But Galatea scorns my humble flame, When you, the glory of them all, are gone!
And neither asks my fortune, nor my name, Yet, oh! that little time you have to stay,
Of the best cheese my well-stor'd dairy 's full, Let me still speak, and gaze my soul away!
And my soft sheep produce the finest wool; But see my passion that small aid denies;
The richest wines of Greece my vineyards yield, Grief stops my tongue, and tears o'erflow my eyes. And smiling crops of grain adorn my field.
Ah, foolish youth! in vain thou boast'st thy store, ECLOGUE II.
Have what thou wilt, if Mopsus still has more.
See, whilst thou sing'st, behold her haughty pride, GALATEA.
With what disdain she turns her head aside! THYRSIS, the gayest one of all the swains,
Oh, why would Nature, to our ruin, place Who fed their flocks upon th' Arcadian plains,
A tiger's heart, with such an angel's face? While love's mad passion quite devour'd his heart, Cease, shepherd, cease, at last thy fruitless moan, And the coy nymph that caus'd, neglects his smart, Nor hope to gain a heart already gone. Strives in low numbers, such as shepherds use, While rocks and caves thy tuneful notes resound, If not to move her breast, his own amuse.
See how thy corn lies wither'd on the ground ! You, Chloris, who with scorn refuse to see
The hungry wolves devour thy fatten'd lambs; The mighty wounds that you have made on me; And bleating for the young makes lean the dams. Yet cannot sure with equal pride disdain,
Take, shepherd, take thy hook, thy flocks pursue, To hear an humble hind of his complain.
And when one nymph proves cruel, find a new. Now while the flocks and herds to shades retire, While the fierce Sun sets all the world on fire; Through burning fields, through rugged brakes I rove,
ARISE, O Phosphorus ! and bring the day,
Deceiv'd with flattering hopes of Nisa's love; Climena, nor rich Ægon's only care;
And to the gods my vain petitions move: From them my songs a just compassion drew; Though they 've done nothing to prevent my death, And they shall have them, since coutemn’d by you. I'll yet invoke them with my dying breath.
Why name I them, when ev'n chaste Cynthia stays, Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian strains. And Pan himself, to listen to my lays?
Arcadia 's famous for its spacious plains, Pan, whose sweet pipe has been admir'd so long, Its whistling pine-trees, and its shady groves, Has not disdain'd sometimes to hear my song: And often hears the swains lament their loves. Yet Galatea scorns whate'er I say,
Great Pan upon its mountains feeds his goats, And Galatea's wiser sure than they.
Who first taught reeds to warble rural notes. Relentless nymph! can nothing move your mind? Begin, my Muse, begin th’ Arcadian strains. Must you be deaf, because you are unkind ?
Mopsus weds Nisa! oh, well-suited pair; Though you dislike the subject of my lays, When he succeeds, what lover can despair? Yet sure the sweetness of my voice might please. After this match, let mares and griffins breed; It is not thus that you dull Mopsus use;
And hounds with hares in friendly consort feed. His songs divert you, though you mine refuse: Go, Mopsus, go; provide the bridal cake, Yet I could tell you, fair-one, if I would,
And to thy bed the blooming virgin take: (And since you treat me thus, methinks I should) In her soft arms thou shalt securely rest, What the wise Lycon said, when in yon plain Behold, the evening comes to make thee blest! He saw him court in hope, and me in vain; Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian strains. “ Forbear, fond youth, to chase a heedless fair, Oh, Nisa, happy in a lovely choice! Nor think with well-tun'd verse to please her ear; While you with scorn neglect my pipe and voice;
TAKEN FROM THE EIGHTH ECLOGUE OP VIRGIL.
While you despise my humble songs, my herd, For the dispute alternate verse they choose,
She owns thy power, nor does thy laws reprove. With charming person, and with graceful micn. Dam. Though Sylvia, for herself, Love's power defies, Begin, my Muse, begin th’ Arcadian strains.
What crowds of vassals has she made to love! When first I saw you on those fatal plains, STREP. When Flavia comes attir'd for rural games, I reach'd you fruit; your mother too was there; Each curl, each flower she wears, a charm express. Scarce had you seen the thirteenth spring appear: Dam. Sylvia, without a foreign aid, inflames; Yet beauty's buds were opening in your face; Charmd with her eyes, we never mind her dress. I gaz'd, and blushes did your charms increase. STREP. Have you seen Flavia with her faxen hair? 'Tis love, thought I, that's rising in her breast; She seems an image of the queen of Love! Alas, your passion, by my own, I guest;
Dam. Sylvia's dark hair like Leda's locks appear, Then upon trust I fed the raging pains.
And yet, like her, has charms to conquer Jore. Begin, my Muse, begin th’ Arcadian strains. Strep. Flavia by crowds of lovers is admir'd;
Oh, Love! I know thee now: thou ow'st thy virth Happy that youth who sball the fair enjoy! Torocks; some craggy mountain brought thee forth: Dam. Sylvia neglects her lovers, lives retird; Nor is it human blood that fills thy veins,
Happy, that could her lonely thoughts employ! Begin, my Muse, begin th’ Arcadian strains. STREP. Flavia, where'er she comes, the swains subRelentless Love to bold Medea show'd,
dues, To stain her guilty hands in children's blood. And every smile she gives conveys a dart. Was she more cruel, or more wicked he?
Dam. Sylvia the swains with native coldness viens, He was a wicked counsellor, a cruel mother she. And yet what shepherd can defend his heart? Begin, my Muse, begin th’ Arcadian strains. Strep. Flavia's bright beauties in an instant strike;
Now let the screech-owls vie with warbling swans; Gazers, before they think of it, adore. Upon hard oaks let blushing peaches grow, Dam. Sylvia's soft charms, as soon as seen, we like; And from the brambles liquid amber flow.
But still the more we think, we love the more. The harmless wolves the ravenous sheep shall shun; STRET. Who is so stupid, that has Flavia seen, And valiant deer at fearful greyhounds run :
As not to view the nymph with vast delight? Let the sea rise, and overflow the plains.
Dam. Who has seen Sylvia, and so stupid been, Begin, my Muse, begin th’ Arcadian strains. As to remember any other sight?
Adieu, ye flocks; no more shall I pursue? STREP. What thoughts has Flavia, when with care Adieu, ye groves; a long, a long adieu!
she views And you, coy nymph, who all my vows disdain, Her charming graces in the crystal lakes? Take this last present from a dying swain. Dam. To see hers, Sylvia need no mirrors use; Since you dislike whate'er in life I said,
She sees them by the conquests that she makes. You may be pleas'd, perhaps, to hear I'm dead : STREP. With what assurance Flavia walks the plains ! This leap shall put an end to all my pains.
She knows the nymphs must all their lovers yield. Now cease, my Muse, now cease th’Arcadian strains. Dam. Sylvia with blushes wounds the gazing swaiis,
Thus Damon sung while on the cliff he stood, And while she strives to fly, she wins the field. Then headlong plupg'd into the raging flood. STREP. Flavia at first young Melibæus lov'd; All with imited grief the loss bemoan,
Por me she did that charming youth forsake. Except the authoress of his fate alone,
Dam. Sylvia's relentless heart was never mor'd; Who hears it with an unrelenting breast.
Gods that I might the first impression make! Ah, cruel nymph! forbear your scorns at least. STREP. Should Flavia hear that Sylvia vy'd with How much soe'er you may the love despise, 'Tis barbarous to insult on one that dies.
What indignation would the chariner show!
Dam. Sylvia would Flavia to herself prefer :
There we alone her judgment disallow.
pare, STREPHON and Damon's flocks together fed,
Why is this crowded still, and that alone? Two charming swains as e'er Arcadia bred; Dam. Because their ways of life so different are; Both fam'd for wit, and fam'd for beauty both; Flavia gives all men hopes, and Sylvia none. Both in the lustre of their blooming youth: No sullen cares their tender thoughts remove, Lycon. Shepherds, enough; now cease your amorNo passions discompose their souls, but love.
ous war; Once, and but once alone, as story goes,
Or too much heat may carry both too far; Between the youths a fierce dispute arose;
I well attended the dispute, and find Not for the merit of their tuneful lays,
Both nymphs have charms, but each in different (Though both deserv'd, yet both despis’d, that praise)
kind. But for a cause of greater moment far,
Flavia deserves more pains than she will cost; That merited a lover's utmost care.
As easily got, were she not easily lost. Each swain the prize of beauty strove to gain, Sylvia is much more difficult to gain; For the bright shepherdess that caus'd his pain. But, once possess'd, will well reward the pain. Lycon they chose, the difference to decide, We wish them Flavias all, when first we burn; Lycon, for prudence and sage counsel try'&; But, once possess'd, wish they would Sylvias turn. Who Love's mysterious arts had study'd long, And, by the different charms in each exprest, Ard taught, when old, what he had practis'd young. One we should soonest love, the other best.
Whither, ab! whither are those graces fled?
Down to the dark, the melancholy shade?
Now, shepherds, now lament! and now deplore ! THE DAY OF THE GREAT STORM.
Delia is dead, and beauty is no more!
For thee each tuneful swain prepar'd his lays, Ye gentle swains, who pass your days and nights His fame exalting while he sung thy praise. In Love's sincere and innocent delights!
Thyrsis, in gay and easy measures, strove Ye tender virgins, who with pride display
To charm thy ears, and tune thy soul to love : Your beauty's splendour, and extend your sway! Menalcas, in his numbers more sublime, Lament with me! with me your sorrows join! Extoll'd thy virtues in immortal rhyme. And mingle your united tears with mine!
Glycon whose satire kept the world in awe, Delia, the queen of love, let all deplore !
Soften'd his strain, when first thy charms he saw, Delia, the queen of beauty, now no more!
Confess'd the goddess who new-form'd his mind, Begin, my Muse! begin your mournful strains ! Proclaim'd thy beauties, and forgot mankind. Tell the sad tale through all the hills and plains ! Cease, shepherd, cease; the charms you sung are fled, Tell it through every lawn and every grove!
The glory of our blasted isle is dead. Where focks can wander, or where shepherds rove! Now join your griefs with mine! and now deplore Bid neighbouring rivers tell the distant sea,
Delia, the pride of beauty, now no more! And winds from pole to pole the news convey! Behold where now she lies depriv'd of breath! Delia, the queen of love, let all deplore!
Charıning though pale, and beautiful in death! Delia, the queen of beauty, now no more!
A troop of weeping virgins by her side; 'Tis done, and all obey the mournful Muse! With all the pomp of woe and sorrow's pride! See, hills, and plains, and winds, have heard the o, early lost! o, fitter to be led news!
In cheerful splendour to the bridal bed,
Whatever hopes superior merit gave,
O that thy coyness could refuse me this!
Clasp'd to my glowing breast, thou may'st revive, Delia, the queen of beauty, now no more! I'll breathe such tender sighs shall make thee live; O! why did I survive the fatal day,
Or, if severer fates that aid deny,
In one cold grave together may be laid
What means this sudden change? methiuks I hear Delia, the pride of beauty, now no inore !
Melodious music from the heavenly sphere! What living nymph is blest with equal grace? Listen, ye shepherds, and devour the sound ! All may dispute, but who can fill thy place? Listen: the saint, the lovely saint, is crown'd! What lover in his mistress hopes to find
While we, mistaken in our joy and grief, A form so lovely, with so bright a mind?
Bewail her fate, who wants not our relief: Doris may boast a face divinely fair,
From the pleas'd orbs she views us here below, But wants thy shape, thy motions, and thy air. And with kind pity wonders at our woe. Lucinda has thy shape, but not those eyes,
Ah, charming saint ! since thou art bless'd above. That, while they did th' admiring world surprise, Indulge thy lovers, and forgive their love. Disclos'd the secret lustre of the mind,
Forgive their tears, who, press'd with grief and care, And seem'd each lover's inmost thoughts to find. Feel not thy joys, but feel their own despar. Others, whose beauty yielding swains confess, By indiscretion make their conquest less, And want thy conduct and obliging wit To fix those slaves who to their chains submit. As some rich tyrant hoards an useless store,
HORACE. ODE III. BOOK III.
The man that 's resolute and just,
Firm to his principles and trust; To all obliging, yet reservåd to all;
Nor hopes nor fears can blind; None could himself the favour'd lover call :
No passions his designs controul, That which alone could make his hopes endure, Not Love, that tyrant of the soul, Was, that he saw po other swain secure.
Can shake his steady mind. VOL VIL
AN IMITATION OF
SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN TAKEN FROM A SIBYLLIXE PRO
Not parties for revenge engagod,
These subjects suit not with the lyre; Nor threatenings of a court enrag'd,
Muse! to what height dost thou aspire, Nor storms where fleets despair;
Pretending to rehearse Not thunder pointed at his head;
The thonghts of gods, and godlike kings? The shatter'd world may strike him dead,
Cease, cease to lessen lofty things
By mean ignoble verse.
of this their poets sing.
THE GOLDEN AGE RESTORED, 1703 These acts made Hercules a god;
And great Nassau a king.
THE FOURTH ECLOGUE OF VIRGIL:
With blackening storms combin'd. “ Virtue,” be cry'd, “ will force its way; The wind may for a while delay,
Paulò majora canamus. Not alter our design. “ The men whom selfish hopes inflame,
Sicilian Muse, begin a loftier flight; Or vanity allures to fame,
Not all in trees and lowly shrubs delight: May be to fears betray'd:
Or if your rural shades you still pursue, But here a Church for succour flies,
Make your shades fit for able statesmens' view. Insulted Law expiring lies,
The time is come, by ancient bards foretold, And loudly calls for aid.
Restoring the Saturnian age of gold ;
The vile, degenerate, whiggish offspring ends, “ Yes, Britons, yes, with ardent zeal,
A high-churcb progeny from Heaven descends. I come, the wounded heart to heal,
O learned Oxford, spare no sacred paios (reigns. The wounding hand to bind :
To nurse the glorious breed, now thy own Bromley See tools of arbitrary sway,
And thou, great Scarsdale, darling of this land, And priests, like locusts, scout away
Dost foremost in that fam'd commission stand; Before the western wind.
Whose deep remarks the listening world admires, “ Law shall again her force resume;
By whose auspicious care old Ranelagh expires. Religion, clear'd from clouds of Rome,
Your mighty genius no strict rules can bind; With brighter rays advance.
You punish men for crimes, which you want time to The British fleet shall rule the deep,
Senates shall now like holy synods be, [End. The British youth, as rous'd from sleep,
And holy synods senate-like agree. Strike terrour into France.
Monmouth and Mostyn here instruct the youth, “ Nor shall these promises of Fate
There Bincks and Kimberley maintain the sacred
Powis and Hamlin here, with equal claim, [trutb. Be limited to my short date: When I from cares withdraw,
Through wide West-Saxon realms extend their fame; Still shall the British sceptre stand,
There Birch and Hooper right divine convey,
Nor treat their bishops in a buman way. Still flourish in a female hand,
Now all our factions, all our fears shall cease, And to mankind give law.
And Tories rule the promis’d land in peace. “ She shall domestic foes unite,
Malice shall die, and noxious poisons fail, (rail: Monarchs beneath her fags shall fight,
Harley shall cease to trick, and Seymour cease to Whole armies drag her chain :
The lambs shall with the lions walk unhurt, She shall lost Italy restore,
And Halifax and Howe meet civilly at court. Shall make th' imperial eagle soar,
Viceroys, like Providence, with distant care, And give a king to Spain.
Shall govern kingdoms where they ne'er appear: “ But know, these promises are given,
Pacific admirals, to save the fleet, These great rewards impartial Heaven
Shall fly from conquest, and shall conqnest meet e Does on these terms decree;
Commanders shall be prais'd at William's cost, That, strictly punishing mens' faults,
And honour be retriev'd before 'tis lost. You let their consciences and thoughts.
Brereton and Burnaby the court shall grace, Rest absolutely free.
And Howe shall not disdain to share a place.
Forgotten Molyneux and Mason now “ Let no false politics confine,
Revive and shine again in Fox and Howe. In parrow bounds, your vast design,
But as they stronger grow and mend their strain, To make mankind unite;
By choice examples of king Charles's reign, Nor think it a sufficient cause
Bold Bellasis and patriot D'Avenant then, To punish man by penal laws,
One shall employ the sword, and one the pen: For not believing right.
Troops shall be led to plunder, not to fight, “ Rome, whose blind zeal destroys mankind, 'The tool of Faction shall to peace invite, (unite Rome's sons shall your compassion find,
And foes to union be employ'd the kingdoms to Who ne'er compassion knew.
Yet still some Whigs among the peers are found, By nobler actions theirs condemn:
Like brambles flourishing in barren ground. For what has been reproach'd in thein,
Somers maliciously employs his care .Can ne'er be prais'd in you."
To make the lords the legislature share.