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Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,
See what delights in fylvan scenes appear!
bow'rs; When weary reapers quit the sultry field, 65 And crown'd with corn their thanks to Ceres yield. This harmless grove no lurking viper hides, But in my breast the serpent Love abides. Here bees from blossoms fip the rofy dew, But
your Alexis knows no sweets but you. 70 Oh deign to visit our forsaken seats, The moliy fountains, and the green retreats! Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade, Trees, where you sit, shall croud into a shade: Where'er you tread, the blushing flow'rs shall rise, And all things flourish where you turn your eyes. Oh! how I long with you to pass my days, Invoke the Muses, and resound your praise !
Var. 6o. Descending Gods have found Elyfium kere.]
Habitarunt Dî quoque fylvas Virg.
Your praise the birds shall chant in ev'ry grove,
VARIATIONS. Ver. 79 80.
Your praise the tuneful birds to hear'n shall bear,
And lift’ning wolves grow milder as they hear. So the verses were originally written. But the author, young as he was, foon found the absurdity which Spenser himself over-looked, of introducing wolves into England. VER. 91. Me love inflames, nor will his fires allay.
IMITATIONS. Ver. 80. And winds shall waft, etc.]
Partem aliquam, venti, divûm referatis ad aures! Virg. Ver. 88. Ye Gods ! etc.]
Me tamen urit amor, quis enim modus adfit amori? Kem.
A U T U M N.
THIRD PASTOR AL,
H Y L A S and Æ G O N.
Hylas and Ægon sung their rural lays;
Thou, whom the Nine with Plautus’ wit inspire,
Ver. 7. Thou, whom the Nine,] Mr. Wycherley, a famous author of Comedies ; of which the most celebrated were the Plain-Dealer and Country. H'ife. He was a writer of infinite
Whose sense instructs us, and whose humour charms,
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along! For her, the feather'd quires neglect their song: For her, the limes their pleasing fhades deny; 25 For her, the lilies hang their heads and die. Ye flow'rs that droop, forsaken by the spring, Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to fing, Ye trees that fade when autumn-heats remove, Say, is not absence death to those who love ?
30 Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! Curs'd be the fields that cause my Delia's stay ;
Spirit, satire, and wit. The only objection made to him was that he had too much. However he was followed in the same way by Mr. Congreve ; tho with a little more correctness.
Fade ev'ry blossom, wither ev'ry tree,
Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along!
Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away!
With him thro' Libya's burning plains I'll go,
Pinguia corticibus sudent electra myricz. Virg. Ecl. viii,
Quale sopor feffis in gramine, quale per æstum