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Whose sense instructs us, and whose humour charms,
Whose judgment fways us, and whose spirit warms!
Oh, skill'd in Nature! fee the hearts of Swains,
Their artless paffions, and their tender pains.
Now setting Phæbus shone serenely bright,
And fleecy clouds were streak’d with purple light;
When tuneful Hylas with melodious moan, 15
Taught rocks to weep and made the mountains groan.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
To Delia's ear, the tender notes convey.
As some fad Turtle his lost love deplores,
And with deep murmurs fills the founding shores;
Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I mourn,
Alike unheard, unpity'd, and forlorn.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along!
For her, the feather'd quires neglect their song :
For her, the limes their pleasing shades deny ; 25
For her, the lillies hang their heads and die.
Ye flow'rs that droop, forsaken by the spring,
Ye birds that, left by summer, ccafe to sing.
Ye trees that fade when autumn-heats remove,
Say, is not absence death to those who love?
Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away;
Curs'd be the fields that caus’d my Delia's stay;
Fade ev'ry blossom, wither ev'ry tree,
Die ev'ry flow'r, and perish all, but the.
What have I said? where'er my Delia fies, 35
Let spring attend, and sudden flow’rs arise;
Let op'ning roses knotted oaks adorn,
And liquid amber drop from ev'ry thorn.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along !
The birds shall cease to tune their ev'ning song, 40
The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move,
And streams to murmur, e'er I cease to love:
Not bubling fountains to the thirsty fwain,
Not balmy sleep to lab'rers faint with pain,
Not show'rs to larks, or fun-fhine to the bee, 45
Are half so charming as thy fight to me.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away!
Come, Delia, come; ah why this long delay ?
Thro' rocks and caves the name of Delia sounds,
Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds.
Ye pow'rs, what pleafing frenzy sooths my mind!
Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind?
She comes, my Delia comes !--Now cease my lay,
And cease, ye gales, to bear my fighs away!
Next Ægon fung, while Windsor groves admir'd;
Rehearse, ye Muses, what yourselves inspir’d. 56
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strain! Of perjur'd Doris, dying I complain:
VER. 48. Originally thus in the MS.
With him thro' Libya's burning plains I'll go,
On Alpine mountains tread th' eternal snow;
Yet feel no heat but what our loves impart,
And dread no coldness but in Thyrsis' heart.
Mala ferant quercus; narcillo floreat alnus,
Pinguia corticibus fudent electra myrica.Virg.Ecl. viii. P.
Ver. 43, etc.)
Quale sopor felis in gramine, quale per æslum
Duleis aquæ Jaliente fitim restinguere rivo. Ecl. v. P. VER:52. An qui amant, ipsi sibi somnip fingunt? Id. viii. P.
Here where the mountains less'ning as they rise
Lose the low vales, and steal into the skies : 60
While lab’ring oxen, spent with toil and heat,
In their loose traces from the field retreat:
While curling smoaks from village-tops are seen,
And the fleet shades glide o'er the dusky green.
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay! 65
Beneath yon' poplar oft we past the day :
Oft on the rind I cary'd her am'rous vows,
While she with garlands hung the bending boughs :
The garlands fade, the vows are worn away ;
So dies her love, and so my hopes decay. 70
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strain!
Now bright Arcturus glads the teeming grain,
Now golden fruits on loaded branches shine,
And grateful clusters swell with floods of wine;
Now blushing berries paint the yellow grove ; 75
Just Gods ! shall all things yield returns but love?
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay!
The shepherds cry, “ Thy flocks are left a prey-
Ah! what avails it me, the flocks to keep,
Who lost my heart while I preservd my sheep. 80
Pan came, and ask'd, what magic caus'd my finart,
Or what ill eyes malignant glances dart?
What eyes but hers, alas, have pow'r to move!
And is there magic but what dwells in love?
Ver. 74. And grateful clusters, etc.] The scene is in
Windsor-forest. So this image not so exact.
Ver. 82. Or what ill eyes]
Nefcio quis teneros oculus mihi fofiinat agnos.
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strains ! I'll fly from shepherds, flocks, and flow'ry plains. From shepherds, flocks, and plains, I may remove, Forsake 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 whirlwinds, and in thunder born!
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay! Farewell, ye woods, adieu the light of day! One leap from yonder cliff shall end my pains,
95 No more, ye hills, no more resound
strains ! Thus sung the shepherds till th’approach of night, The skies yet blushing with departing light, When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade, And the low sun had lengthen'd ev'ry shade. 100
VER. 98, 100.] There is a little inaccuracy here; the first line makes the time after sun-set; the second, before.
IMITATIONS. VER. 89. Nunc fcio quid fit Amor : duris in cotibus il
lum, etc. P.
L Y CIDAS.
HYRSIS, the music of that murm'ring spring
Is not so mournful as the strains
Nor rivers winding thro' the vales below,
So sweetly warble, or so smoothly flow.
Winter.] This was the Poet's favourite Pastoral.
Mrs. Tempeft.] This Lady was of an ancient family in Yorkshire, and particularly admired by the Author's friend Mr. Walth, who, having celebrated her in a Pastoral Ele. gy, desired his friend to do the same, as appears from one of his Letters, dated Sept. 9, 1706. “ Your laft Eclogue
“ being IMITATIONS. Ver. 1. Thyrsis, the music, etc.]
‘Adú Ti, etc. Theocr. Id. i.