STREPHON.

Inspire me, Phœbus, in my Delia's praife,
With Waller's ftrains, or Granville's *moving lays!
A milk-white bull fhall at your altars ftand,
That threats a fight, and fpurns the rifing fand.

DAPHNIS.

O Love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize,
And make my tongue victorious as her eyes;
No lambs or sheep for victims I'll impart,
Thy victim, Love, fhall be the fhepherd's heart.

STREPHON..

Me gentle Delia beckons from the plain, Then hid in fhades, eludes her eager fwain; But feigns a laugh, to see me search around, And by that laugh the willing fair is found.

DAPHNIS.

The fprightly Sylvia trips along the green, She runs, but hopes she does not run unseen; While a kind glance at her purfuer flies,

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How much at variance are her feet and eyes!

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STREPHON.

O'er golden fands let rich Pactolus flow,
And trees weep amber on the banks of Po;
Bleft Thames's fhores the brightest beauties yield,
Feed here my lambs, I'll feek no diftant field.

DAPHNIS.

Celestial Venus haunts Idalia's groves;
Diana Cynthus, Ceres Hybla loves,

If Windsor shades delight the matchless maid,
Cynthus and Hybla yield to Windsor shade,

* George Granville, afterwards Lord Landsdownę.

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STREPHON,

STREPHON.

All nature mourns, the skies relent in show'rs, Hufh'd are the birds, and clos'd the drooping flow'rs; 70 If Delia smile, the flowers begin to spring, The skies to brighten, and the birds to fing.

DAPHNIS.

All nature laughs, the groves are fresh and fair,
The fun's mild luftre warms the vital air;

If Sylvia fmiles, new glories gild the shore,
And vanquish'd nature feems to charm no more.

STREPHON.

In fpring the fields, in autumn hills I love, At morn the plains, at noon the shady grove, But Delia always; abfent from her fight,

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Nor plains at morn, nor groves at noon delight.

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DAPHNIS.

Sylvia's like autumn ripe, yet mild as May, More bright than noon, yet fresh as early day; Ev'n fpring displeases, when fhe fhines not here; But bleft with her, 'tis fpring throughout the year,

STREPHON.

Say, fhepherd, fay, in what glad foil appears
A wond'rous Tree* that facred Monarchs bears?
Tell me but this, and I'll disclaim the prize,
And give the conqueft to thy Sylvia's eyes.

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* An allufion to the Royal Oak, in which Charles II. had been hid from the purfuit after the battle of Worcester. This line has been almost univerfally cavilled at by the critics, efpecially by the author of an Effay on the Genius, &c. It is, however, perhaps with more ingenuity than propriety defended by Mr. Ruffhead.

DAPHNIS,

DAPHNIS.

Nay tell me first, in what more happy fields

The Thiftle fprings, to which the Lilly yields †?

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And then a nobler prize I will refign;

For Sylvia, charming Sylvia, fhall be thine.

DAMON.

Cease to contend, for (Daphnis) I decree The bowl to Strephon, and the lamb to thee:

Bleft Swains, whose nymphs in ev'ry grace excel,

Bleft Nymphs, whose fwains thofe graces fing fo well! Now rife and hafte to yonder woodbine bow'rs,

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A foft retreat from fudden vernal fhow'rs;
The turf with rural dainties shall be crown'd,
While opening blooms diffuse their sweets around.
For fee! the gath'ring flocks to shelter tend,
And from the Pleiads fruitful fhow'rs defcend.

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This alludes to the device of the Scots Monarchs, the Thistle, worn by Queen Anne, and to the arms of France, the Fleur de Lys.

SUMMER.

A Shepherd's Boy (he feeks no better name)

Led forth his flocks along the filver Thame,

Where dancing fun-beams on the waters play'd,
And verdant alders form'd a quivʼring shade.
There while he mourn'd, the ftreams forgot to flow, 5
The flocks around a dumb compaffion fhow,

The Naiads wept in ev'ry wat❜ry bow'r,
And Jove confented in a filent fhow'r.

Accept, O Garth, the Muse's early lays,

That adds this wreath of Ivy to thy Bays;
Hear what from Love unpractis'd hearts endure,
From Love, the fole disease thou canst not cure.
Ye fhady beeches, and ye cooling ftreams,
Defence from Phoebus, not from Cupid's beams,
To you I mourn, nor to the deaf I fing,
The woods fhall anfwer, and their echo ring.
The hills and rocks attend my doleful lay,

Why art thou prouder and more hard than they?
The bleating sheep with my complaints agree,
They parch'd with heat, and I inflam'd by thee.

IQ

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* The Scene of this Paftoral by the River's fide, fuitable to the heat of the feafon; the Time, Noon.

Dr. Samuel Garth, author of the Difpenfary, was one of the first friends of the author, whofe acquaintance with him began at fourteen or fifTheir friendship continued from the year 1703, to 1718, which was that of the doctor's death.

teen.

The

The fultry Sirius burns the thirsty plains,.
While in thy heart eternal winter reigns..

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 blufhes paint the wat❜ry glafs;
But fince those graces please thy eyes no more,
I fhun the fountains which I fought before.
Once I was skill'd in ev'ry herb that grew,
And ev'ry 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 share :
But nigh yon? mountain let me tune my lays,
Embrace my Love, and bind my brows with bays.
That flute is mine which Colin's tuneful breath
Inspir'd when living, and bequeath'd in death;
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.
Oh! were I made by fome transforming pow'r
The captive bird that fings within thy bow'r !
Then might my voice thy liftning 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:
The Nymphs forfaking ev'ry cave and fpring,
Their early fruit, and milk-white turtles bring;
Each am'rous nymph prefers her gifts in vain,
On you their gifts are all bestow'd again.
For you the fwains the faireft flow'rs defign,
And in one garland all their beauties join

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* The name taken by Spenser in his Eclogues, where his mist::fs is celebrated under that of Rofalinda.

Accept