LYCIDAS... THYRSIS, the music of that murm’ring spring

1 Is not so mournful as the strains you sing, Nor rivers winding thro' the vales below, . So sweetly warble, or so smoothly flow.

REMARK S.
Winter. This was the Poet's favourite Paftoral.

Mrs. Tempeft.] This Lady was of an ancient family in Yorkfire, and particularly admired by the Author's friend Mr. Walth, who, having celebrated her in a Paftoral Elegy, desired

IMITATIONS.
Ver. 1. Thyrsis, the music, etc.]
'Adó th, etc. Theocr. Id. in

Now sleeping flocks on their soft fleeces lie, Ŝ
The moon, serene in glory, mounts the sky,
While silent birds forget their tuneful lays,
Oh sing of Daphne's fate, and Daphne's praise!

THYRSIS.
& Behold the groves that shine with silver frost,
Their beauty wither'd, and their verdure loft. 10
Here shall I try the sweet Alexis' strain,
That call’d the listning Dryads to the plain?
Thames heard the numbers as he flow'd along,
And bade his willows learn the moving song.

REMARKS.

his friend to do the same, as appears from one of his Letters, dated Sept. 9, 1706., “ Your last Eclogue being on the same < subject with mine on Mrs. Tempest's death, I should take it “ very kindly in you to give it a little turn, as if it were to the “ memory of the same lady,” Her death having happened on the night of the great storm in 1703, gave a propriety to this eclogue, which in its general turn alludes to it. The scene of the Pastoral lies in a grove, the time at midnight. P.

Ver. 9. Jhine with silver frosi,] The image is a fine one, but improperly placed. The idea he would raise is the defors mity of Winter, as appears by the following line: but this imagery contradicts it. It should have been ---glare with hoary froff, or some such expression: the same inaccuracy in Ý 31, where he uses pearls, when he should have said tears.

IMITATIONS. Ver. 12. Thames heard etc.]

Audit Eurotas, juffitque ediscere lauros, Virg.

P.

LYCID AS.. So may kind rains their vital moisture yield, 15 And swell the future harvest of the field. . . Begin; this charge the dying Daphne gave, And said, “Ye shepherds, fing around my grave!" Sing, while beside the shaded tomb I mourn, And with fresh bays her rural shrine adorn, 20

: : THYRSIS. Ye gentle Muses, leave your crystal spring, .. Let Nymphs and Sylvans cypress garlands bring; Ye weeping Loves, the stream with myrtles hide, And break your bows, as when Adonis dy'd; And with your golden darts, now useless grown, Inscribe a verse on this relenting stone: 26 “ Let nature change, let heav'n and earth deplore, “Fair Daphne’s dead, and love is now no more!

'Tis done, and nature's various charms decay, See gloomy clouds obscure the chearful day! :

. VARIATIONS. Ver. 29. Originally thus in the MS.

'Tis done, and nature's chang’d since you are gones
Behold the clouds have put their Mourning on.

IMITATIONS,

VER. 23, 24, 25.,

." Inducite fontibus umbras --Et tumulum facite, et tumulo superaddite carmen. P.

Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear,
Their faded honours scatter'd on her bier.
See, where on carth the flow'ry glories lie,
With her they flourish’d, and with her they die.'
Ah what avail the beauties nature wore? 35
Fair Daphne's dead, and beauty is no more!

For her the flocks refuse their verdant food,
The thirsty heifers fhun the gliding flood,
The filver swans her hapless fate bemoan,
In notes more sad than when they sing their own;
In hollow caves sweet Echo filent lies 41
Silent, or only to her name replies ;
Her name with pleasure once she taught the shore,
Now Daphne's dead, and pleasure is no more!

No grateful dews descend from ev'ning skies, Nor morning odours from the flow'rs arise; 46 No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field, Nor fragrant herbs their native incense yield, The balmy Zephyrs, filent since her death, Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath; 50

Th’industrious bees neglect their golden store! Fair Daphne’s dead, and sweetness is no more!

Nomore the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, Shall lift’ning in mid air suspend their wings ;

No more the birds shall imitate her lays, "s5
Or hush'd with wonder, hearken from the sprays:
No more the streams their murmurs shall forbear,
A fweeter music than their own to hear,
But tell the reeds, and tell the vocal shore, .
Fair Daphne’s dead, and music is no more! 60

Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze,
And told in fighs to all the trembling trees;
The trembling trees; in ev'ry plain and wood,
Her fate remurmur to the fifver flood;
The silver flood, so fately calm, appears 65
Swell’d with new passion, and o’erflows with tears;
The winds and trees and floods her death deplore,
Daphne, our grief! our glory now no more!

But see! where Daphne wond'ring mounts on high Above the clouds, above the starry sky! 70 Eternal beauties grace the shining scene, Fields ever fresh, and groves for ever green! There while you rest in Amaranthine bow'rs, Or from those meads select unfading flow'rs,

I MITATIONS, R. .;." Ver. 69, 70, miratur limen Olympi, ...

Sub pedibusque videt nubes et fydera Daphnis. Virg. P.