The trembling trees, in ev'ry plain and wood, The silver flood, so lately 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, 75 Lyc. How all things listen, while thy muse complains! Such silence waits on Philomela's strains, 80 While plants their shade, or flow'rs their odours give, Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise shall live! Thyr. But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews; Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse; Sharp Boreas blows, and Nature feels decay; 86 Time conquers all, and we must Time obey. Adieu, ye shepherds' rural lays and loves; Adieu, my flocks; farewell, ye sylvan crew; 90 The trembling trees, in ev'ry plain and wood, Her fate re-murmur to the silver flood; The silver flood, so lately calm, appears 65 Swell'd with new passion, and o'erflows with tears; 70 Eternal beauties grace the shining scene, 75 Lyc. How all things listen, while thy muse complains! Such silence waits on Philomela's strains, Pants on the leaves, and dies upon the trees. 80 If teeming ewes increase my fleecy breed. While plants their shade, or flow'rs their odours give, Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise shall live! Thyr. But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews; Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse; Sharp Boreas blows, and Nature feels decay; Time conquers all, and we must Time obey. 86 Adieu, ye vales, ye mountains, streams, and groves; Adieu, ye shepherds' rural lays and loves; Adieu, my flocks; farewell, ye sylvan crew; 90 MESSIAH. SACRED ECLOGUE, IN IMITATION OF VIRGIL'S POLLIO. 5 YE Nymphs of Solyma! begin the song : To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong. The mossy fountains, and the sylvan shades, The dreams of Pindus, and th' Aonian maids, Delight no more. O thou my voice inspire Who touched Isaiah's hallow'd lips with fire! Rapt into future times, the bard begun : A Virgin shall conceive, a Virgin bear a Son! From Jesse's root behold a branch arise, Whose sacred flow'r with fragrance fills the skies: 10 Th' ætherial Spirit o'er its leaves shall move, And on its top descends the mystic dove. Ye Heavens! from high the dewy nectar pour, And in soft silence shed the kindly show'r! |