When falling dews with spangles deck the glade, And the low sun had lengthen'd every shade.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
Cursed be the fields that cause my Delia's stay;
Fade every blossom, wither every tree,
Die every flower, and perish all, but she;
What have I said? Where'er my Delia flies,
Let spring attend, and sudden flowers arise!
Let opening roses knotted oaks adorn,
And liquid amber drop from every thorn.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along!
The birds shall cease to tune their evening song,
The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move,
And streams to murmur, ere I cease to love.
Not bubbling fountains to the thirsty swain,
Not balmy sleep to labourers faint with pain,
Not showers to larks, or sunshine, to the bee,
Are half so charming as thy sight to me.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
Come, Delia, come; ah, why this long delay?
Through rocks and caves the name of Delia sounds;
Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds.
Ye powers, what pleasing frenzy soothes 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 sighs away!
Next Egon sang, while Windsor groves admired:
Rehearse, ye muses, what yourselves inspired.
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strain!
Of perjured Doris, dying I complain:
Here where the mountains, lessening as they rise,
Lose the low vales, and steal into the skies;
While labouring oxen, spent with toil and heat,
In their loose traces from the field retreat;
While curling smokes from village tops are seen,
And the fleet shades glide o'er the dusky green.
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay!
Beneath yon poplar oft we pass'd the day:
Oft on the rind I carved her amorous vows,
While she with garlands hung the bending boughs;
The garlands fade, the vows are worn away:
So dies my love, and so my hopes decay.
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.
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 preserved my sheep?
Pan came, and ask'd, what magic caused my smart,
Or what ill eyes malignant glances dart?
What eyes but hers, alas, have power to move?
And is there magic but what dwells in love?
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strains! I'll fly from shepherds, flocks, and flowery 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 suck, and savage tigers fed: Thou wert from Etna'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. No more, ye hills, no more resound my strains. Thus sang the shepherds till the approach of night, The skies yet blushing with departed light,
THE FOURTH PASTORAL; OR, DAPΗΝΕ
To the Memory of Mrs. Tempest.
THYRSIS, the music of that murmuring spring Is not so mournful as the strains you sing: Nor rivers winding through the vales below, So sweetly warble, or so smoothly flow. Now sleeping flocks on their soft fleeces lie, The moon, serene in glory, mounts the sky, While silent birds forget their tuneful lays, O sing of Daphne's fate, and Daphne's praise !
Behold the groves that shine with silver frost, Their beauty wither'd, and their verdure lost: Here shall I try the sweet Alexis' strain, That call'd the listening Dryads to the plain: Thames heard the numbers as he flow'd along, And bade his willows learn the moving song.
So may kind rains their vital moisture yield, And swell the future harvest of the field. Begin; this charge the dying Daphne gave, And said, 'Ye shepherds, sing around my grave:' Sing, while beside the shaded tomb I mourn, And with fresh bays her rural shrine adorn.
Ye gentle muses, leave your chrystal spring,
Let nymphs and sylvans cypress garlands bring:
Ye weeping Loves, the stream with myrtles hide,
And break your bows as when Adonis died;
And with your golden darts, now useless grown,
Inscribe a verse on this relenting stone;
Let Nature change, let heaven and earth deploré;
Fair Daphne's dead, and love is now no more!"
'Tis done, and Nature's various charms decay:
See gloomy clouds obscure the cheerful day :
Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear,
Their faded honours scatter'd on her bier.
See where, on earth, the flowery glories lie;
With her they flourish'd, and with her they die.
Ah! what avail the beauties nature wore;
Fair Daphne's dead, and beauty is no more!
For her the flocks refuse their verdant food; The thirsty heifers shun the gliding flood: The silver swans her hapless fate bemoan, In notes more sad than when they sing their own: In hollow caves sweet Echo silent lies, 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 evening skies, Nor morning odours from the flowers arise; No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field, Nor fragrant herbs their native incense yield. The balmy Zephyrs, silent since her death, Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath; The industrious bees neglect their golden store: Fair Daphne's dead, and sweetness is no more! No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, Shall, listening in mid air, suspend their wings;
No more the birds shall imitate her lays,
Or, hush'd with wonder, hearken from the sprays:
No more the streams their murmurs shall forbear,
A sweeter music than their own to hear;
But tell the reeds, and tell the vocal shore,
Fair Daphne's dead, and music is no more!
Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze,
And told in sighs to all the trembling trees;
The trembling trees, in every plain and wood,
Her fate remurmur to the silver flood;
The silver flood, so lately calm, appears
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 wondering mounts on high,
Above the clouds, above the starry sky!
Eternal beauties grace the shining scene,
Fields ever fresh, and groves for ever green!
There, while you rest in amaranthine bowers,
Or from those meads select unfading flowers,
Behold us kindly, who your name implore,
Daphne, our goddess, and our grief no more!
How all things listen, while thy muse complains!
Such silence waits on Philomela's strains,
In some still evening, when the whispering breeze
Pants on the leaves, and dies upon the trees.
To thee, bright goddess, oft a lamb shall bleed,
If teeming ewes increase my fleecy breed.
Delight no more-O Thou my voice inspire
Who touch'd 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's1 root behold a branch arise,
Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies: 10
The ethereal spirit o'er its leaves shall move,
And on its top descends the mystic dove.
Ye heavens!2 from high the dewy nectar pour,
And in soft silence shed the kindly shower!
The sick and weak the healing plant shall aid, 15
From storm a shelter, and from heat a shade.
All crimes shall cease, and ancient frauds shall fail;
Returning Justice1 lift aloft her scale;
Peace o'er the world her olive wand, extend,
And white-robed Innocence from heaven descend. 20
Swift fly the years, and rise the expected morn!
Oh spring to light, auspicious Babe, be born!
See, Nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring,
With all the incense of the breathing spring:
See lofty Lebanons his head advance,
See nodding forests on the mountains dance:
See spicy clouds from lowly Saron rise,
And Carmel's flowery top perfume the skies!
Hark! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers;
Prepare the way !6 A God, a God appears!
Ver. 8. A Virgin shall conceive-All crimes shall
While plants their shade, or flowers their odours give, cease, &c.] Virg. Ecl. iv. ver. 6.
Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise, shall live!
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.
Adieu, ye vales, ye mountains, streams, and groves;
Adieu, ye shepherd's rural lays and loves;
Adieu, my flocks; farewell, ye sylvan crew:
Daphne, farewell! and all the world, adieu!
A sacred Eclogue in Imitation of Virgil's Pollio.
In reading several passages of the prophet Isaiah, which foretell the coming of Christ, and the felicities attending it, I could not but observe a remarkable parity be tween many of the thoughts, and those in the Pollio of Virgil. This will not seem surprising when we reflect, that the eclogue was taken from a Sibylline pro
phecy on the same subject. One may judge that Virgil
did not copy it line for line; but selected such ideas as
best agreed with the nature of pastoral poetry, and
disposed them in that manner which served most to
beautify his piece. I have endeavoured the same in
this imitation of him, though without admitting any
thing of my own; since it was written with this par-
ticular view, that the reader by comparing the several
thoughts, might see how far the images and descriptions
of the prophet are superior to those of the poet. But as I
fear I have prejudiced them by my management, I shall
subjoin the passages of Isaiah, and those of Virgil, un-
der the same disadvantage of a literal translation.
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 the Aonian maids,
Jam redit et virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna,
Jam nova progenies cælo demittitur alto.
Te duce, si qua maneant sceleris vestigia nostri,
Irrita perpetua solvent formidine terras-
Pacatumque reget patriis virtutibus orbem.
'Now the virgin returns, now the kingdom of Saturn returns, now a new progeny is sent down from high heaven. By means of thee, whatever reliques of our crimes remain, shall be wiped away, and free the world from perpetual fears. He shall govern the earth in peace, with the virtues of his father.'
Isaiah, ch. vii. ver. 14.-Behold a Virgin shall conceive and bear a Son. Chap. ix. ver 6, 7.-Unto us a Child is born; unto us a Son is given; the Prince of Peace: of the increase of his government, and of his peace, there shall be no end: upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order and to establish it, with judgment and with justice, for ever and ever.'
Ver. 23. See, Nature hastes, &c.] Virg. Ecl. iv. ver. 18.
At tibi prima, puer, nullo munuscula cultu,
Errantes hederas passim cum baccare tellus
Mixtaque ridenti colocasia fundet acantho-
Ipsa tibi blandos fundent cunabula flores.
'For thee, O child, shall the earth, without being tilled, produce her early offerings; winding ivy, mixed with baccar, and colocassia with smiling acanthus. Thy cradle shall pour forth pleasing flowers about thee.'
Isaiah, ch. xxxv. ver. 1.-'The wilderness and the
solitary place shall be glad, and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose.' Ch. lx. ver. 13-The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir-tree, the pine-tree, and the box together, to beautify the place of thy sanc tuary.'
Ver. 29. Hark! a glad voice, &c.] Virg. Ecl. iv. ver. 46. Aggredere ô magnos (aderit jam tempus) honores, Cara Deûm soboles, magnum Jovis incrementum! Ecl. v. ver. 62.
Ipsi lætitiâ voces ad sidera jactant Intonsi montes, ipsæ jam carmina rupes, Ipsa sonant arbusta, Deus, Deus ille, Menalca! 'O come and receive the mighty honours: the time draws nigh, O beloved offspring of the gods! O great in crease of Jove! The uncultivated mountains send shouts of joy to the stars; the very rocks sing in verse; the very shrubs cry out, A God, a God!
A God, a God! the vocal hills reply;
The rocks proclaim the approaching Deity.
Lo, earth receives him from the bending skies!
Sink down, ye mountains; and ye valleys, rise!
With heads declined, ye cedars, homage pay;
Be smooth, ye rocks! ye rapid floods, give way!
The Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold:
Hear him, ye deaf! and all ye blind, behold!
He from thick films shall purge the visual ray,
And on the sightless eye-ball pour the day:
"Tis he the obstructed paths of sound shall clear,
And bid new music charin the unfolding ear:
The dumb' shall sing, the lame his crutch forego,
And leap exulting, like the bounding roe.
The lambs1 with wolves shall graze the verdant mead,
And boys in flowery bands the tiger lead.
The steer and lion at one crib shall meet,
And harmless serpents? lick the pilgrim's feet. 80
35 The smiling infant in his hand shall take
The crested basilisk and speckled snake,
Pleased, the green lustre of the scales survey,
And with their forky tongue shall innocently play.
Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise! 85
40 Exalt thy towery head, and lift thy eyes!
See a long race thy spacious courts adorn;
See future sons, and daughters yet unborn,
In crowding ranks on every side arise,
Demanding life, impatient for the skies!
No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear; 45 See barbarous nations at thy gates attend,
From every face he wipes off every tear.
In adamantine chains shall death be bound, And hell's grim tyrant feel the eternal wound. As the good shepherd3 tends his fleecy care, Seeks freshest pasture, and the purest air; Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs, By day o'ersees them, and by night protects; The tender lambs he raises in his arms,
Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend;
See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings,
And heap'd with products of Sabean springs!
For thee Idume's spicy forests blow,
50 And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow :
See heaven its sparkling portals wide display,
And break upon them in a flood of day!
No more the rising sun shall gild the morn,
Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms:
Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage,
The promised father of the future age.
No more shall nations against nation rise,
Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes,
Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er,
The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more;
But useless lances into scythes shall bend,
And the broad falchion in a plough-share end.
Then palaces shall rise; the joyful son
Shall finish what his short-lived sire begun;
Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield,
become a pool, and the thirsty land springs of water; in
The swain in barren deserts with surprise
Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise;
And starts, amidst the thirsty wilds to hear
New falls of water murmuring in his ear.
On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes,
The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods.
Waste sandy valleys, once perplex'd with thorn,
The spiry fir and shapely box adorn :
To leafless shrubs the flowery palms succeed,
And odorous myrtle to the noisome weed.
And the same hand that sow'd, shall reap the field. the habitations where dragons lay, shall be grass, and
reeds, and rushes. Ch. lv. ver. 13. Instead of the thorn shall come up the fir-tree, and instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle-tree.'
Ver. 77. The lambs with wolves, &c.] Virg. Ecl. iv.
Ipsæ lacte domum referent distenta capellæ
Ubera, nec magnos metuent armenta leones-
Occidet et serpens, et fallax herba veneni
Occidet-
The goats shall bear to the fold their udders distend75 ed with milk; nor shall the herds be afraid of the greatest lions. The serpent shall die, and the herb that conceals poison shall die.
Isaiah, ch. xi. ver. 6, &c. 'The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
Isaiah, ch. xl. ver. 3, 4.- The voice of him that crieth and the calf and the young lion, and the fatling together; in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord! make and a little child shall lead them; and the lion shall eat straight in the desert a highway for our God! Every straw like the ox. And the sucking child shall play on valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made hand on the den of the cockatrice.'
straight, and the rough places plain. Ch. xliv. ver. 23. -Break forth into singing, ye mountains; O forest, and every tree therein; for the Lord hath redeemed Israel.'
Ver. 85. Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise! The thoughts of Isaiah, which compose the latter
Ver. 67. The swain in barren deserts.] Virg. Ecl. iv. part of the poem, are wonderfully elevated, and much
Molli paulatim flavescet campus aristå,
Incultisque rubens pendebit sentibus uva,
Et duræ quercus sudabunt roscida mella.
'The fields shall grow yellow with ripened ears, and the red grape shall hang upon the wild brambles, and the hard oaks shall distil honey like dew.'
Isaiah, ch. xxxv. ver. 7.- The parched ground shall
above those general exclamations of Virgil, which make
the loftiest parts of his Pollio.
Magnus ab integro sæclorum nascitur ordo!
-toto surget gens aurea mundo!
-Incipient magni procedere menses!
Aspice, venturo lætentur ut omnia sæcle! &c.
The reader needs only to turn to the passages of
Isaiah, here cited.
WINDSOR FOREST.
To the Right Honourable George Lord Lansdowne.
Non injussa cano: te nostræ, Vare, myrice.
Te nemus omne canet; nec Phœbo gratior ulla est,
Quam sibi quæ Vari præscripsit pagina nomen.
THY forest, Windsor! and thy green retreats,
At once the Monarch's and the Muses' seats,
Invite my lays. Be present, sylvan maids!
Unlock your springs, and open all your shades.
Granville commands; your aid, O muses, bring!
What muse for Granville can refuse to sing?
The groves of Eden, vanish'd now so long,
Live in description, and look green in song;
These, were my breast inspired with equal flame,
Like them in beauty, should be like in fame.
Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain,
Here earth and water seem to strive again;
Not chaos-like together crush'd and bruised,
But, as the world, harmoniously confused;
Where order in variety we see,
And where, though all things differ, all agree.
Here waving groves a chequer'd scene display,
And part admit, and part exclude the day;
As some coy nymph her lover's warm address,
Nor quite indulges, nor can quite repress.
There, interspersed in lawns and opening glades,
Thin trees arise that sun each other's shades.
Here in full light the russet plains extend;
There, wrapt in clouds, the blueish hills ascend.
E'en the wild heath displays her purple dyes,
And 'midst the desert, fruitful fields arise,
Both, doom'd alike, for sportive tyrants bled,
But, while the subject starved, the beast was fed.
Proud Nimrod first the bloody chase began,
A mighty hunter, and his prey was man.
Our haughty Norman boasts that barbarous name,
And makes his trembling slaves the royal game,
The fields are ravish'd from the industrious swains,
From men their cities, and from gods their fanes :
The levell'd towns with weeds lie cover'd o'er;
The hollow winds through naked temples roar;
Round broken columns clasping ivy twined;
O'er heaps of ruins stalk'd the stately hind;
The fox obscene to gaping tombs retires,
And savage howlings fill the sacred quires.
Awed by his nobles, by his commons curst,
The oppressor ruled tyrannie where he durst,
Stretch'd o'er the poor and church his iron rod,
And serv'd alike his vassals and his God.
Whom e'en the Saxon spared, and bloody Dane,
The wanton victims of his sport remain.
But see, the man who spacious regions gave
A waste for beasts, himself denied a grave :
Stretch'd on the lawn his second hope survey,
At once the chaser, and at once the prey:
Lo Rufus, tugging at the deadly dart,
Bleeds in the forest like a wounded hart.
Succeeding monarchs heard the subjects' cries,
Nor saw displeased the peaceful cottage rise.
Then gathering flocks on unknown mountains fed,
O'er sandy wilds where yellow harvests spread,
The forests wonder'd at the unusual grain,
And secret transports touch'd the conscious swain.
Fair Liberty, Britannia's goddess, rears
Her cheerful head, and leads the golden years.
Ye vigorous swains! while youth ferments your blood,
And purer spirits swell the sprightly flood,
That, crown'd with tufted trees and springing corn, Now range the hills, the gameful woods beset,
Like verdant isles the sable waste adorn.
Let India boast her plants, nor envy we
The weeping amber, or the balmy tree,
While by our oaks the precious loads are borne,
And realms commanded which those trees adorn.
Not proud Olympus yields a nobler sight,
Though gods assembled grace his towering height.
Than what more humble mountains offer here,
Where, in their blessings, all those gods appear.
See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crown'd,
Here blushing Flora paints the enamell'd ground,
Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand,
And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand;
Rich industry sits smiling on the plains,
And peace and plenty tell, a Stuart reigns.
Not thus the land appear'd in ages past,
A dreary desert, and a gloomy waste,
To savage beasts and savage laws a prey,
And kings more furious and severe than they;
Who claim'd the skies, dispeopled air and floods,
The lonely lords of empty wilds and woods:
Cities laid waste, they storm'd the dens and caves
(For wiser brutes were backward to be slaves.)
What could be free, when lawless beasts obey'd,
And e'en the elements a tyrant sway'd?
In vain kind seasons swell'd the teeming grain;
Soft showers distill'd, and suns grew warm in vain;
The swain with tears his frustrate labour yields,
And, famish'd, dies amidst his ripen'd fields.
What wonder then, a beast or subject slain
Were equal crimes in a despotic reign?
Wind the shrill horn, or spread, the waving net.
When milder autumn summer's heat succeeds,
And in the new-shorn field the partridge feeds;
Before his lord the ready spaniel bounds,
Panting with hope, he tries the furrow'd grounds;
But when the tainted gales the game betray,
Couch'd close he lies, and meditates the prey:
Secure they trust the unfaithful field beset,
Till hovering o'er them sweeps the swelling net.
Thus (if small things we may with great compare)
When Albion sends her eager sons to war,
Some thoughtless town, with ease and plenty bless'd,
Near and more near, the closing lines invest;
Sudden they seize the amazed, defenceless prize,
And high in air Britannia's standard flies.
See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings:
Short is his joy, he feels the fiery wound,
Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.
Ah! what avails his glossy, varying dyes,
His purple crest, and scarlet circled eyes,
The vivid green his shining plumes unfold,
His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold?
Nor yet, when moist Arcturus clouds the sky,
The woods and fields their pleasing toils deny.
To plains with well-breathed beagles we repair,
And trace the mazes of the circling hare:
(Beasts, urged by us, their fellow-beasts pursue,
And learn of man each other to undo :)
With slaughtering guns the unwearied fowler roves,
When frosts have whiten'd all the naked groves;
Where doves in flocks the leafless trees o'ershade,
And lonely woodcocks haunt the watery glade.
He lifts the tube, and levels with his eye:
Straight a short thunder breaks the frozen sky:
Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath,
The clamorous lapwings feel the leaden death;
Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare,
They fall, and leave their little lives in air.
In genial spring, beneath the quivering shade,
Where cooling vapours breathe along the mead,
The patient fisher takes his silent stand,
Intent, his angle trembling in his hand;
With looks unmoved, he hopes the scaly breed,
And eyes the dancing cork and bending reed.
Our plenteous streams a various race supply,
The bright-eyed perch with fins of Tyrian dye,
The silver eel, in shining volumes roll'd,
The yellow carp, in scales bedropp'd with gold,
Swift trouts, diversified with crimson stains,
And pikes, the tyrants of the watery plains.
Now Cancer glows with Phœbus' fiery car:
The youth rush eager to the sylvan war,
Swarm o'er the lawns, the forest walks surround,
Rouse the fleet hart, and cheer the opening hound.
The impatient courser pants in every vein,
And, pawing, seems to beat the distant plain :
Hills, vales, and floods appear already cross'd,
And, ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost.
See the bold youth strain up the threatening steep,
Rush through the thickets, down the valleys sweep,
Hang o'er their coursers' heads with eager speed,
And earth rolls back beneath the flying steed.
Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain,
The immortal huntress, and her virgin train,
Nor envy, Windsor! since thy shades have seen
As bright a goddess, and as chaste a queen;
Whose care, like hers, protects the sylvan reign,
The earth's fair light, and empress of the main.
Here, too, 'tis sung, of old, Diana stray'd, And Cynthus' top forsook for Windsor shade; Here was she seen o'er airy wastes to rove, Seek the clear spring, or haunt the pathless grove; Here, arm'd with silver bows, in early dawn, Her buskin'd virgins traced the dewy lawn.
Above the rest a rural nymph was famed, Thy offspring, Thames! the fair Lodona named: (Lodona's fate, in long oblivion cast,
And now his shorter breath, with sultry air,
Pants on her neck, and fans her parting hair.
In vain on father Thames she calls for aid,
Nor could Diana help her injured maid.
Faint, breathless, thus she pray'd, nor pray'd in vain :
Ah, Cynthia! ah-though banish'd from thy train,
Let me, O let me, to the shades repair,
My native shades! there weep, and murmur there!
She said, and, melting as in tears she lay,
In a soft silver stream dissolved away.
The silver stream her virgin coldness keeps,
For ever murmurs, and for ever weeps;
Still bears the name the helpless virgin bore,
And bathes the forest where she ranged before
In her chaste current oft the goddess laves,
And with celestial tears augments the waves.
Oft in her glass the musing shepherd spies
The headlong mountains and the downward skies,
The watery landscape of the pendant woods,
And absent trees that tremble in the floods;
In the clear azure gleam the flocks are seen,
And floating forests paint the waves with green;
Through the fair scene roll slow the lingering streams,
Then foaming pour along, and rush into the Thames.
Thou, too, great father of the British floods!
With joyful pride survey'st our lofty woods;
Where towering oaks their growing honours rear,
And future navies on thy shores appear.
Not Neptune's self from all her streams receives
A wealthier tribute than to thine he gives.
No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear,
No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear.
Nor Po so swells the fabling poet's lays,
While led along the skies his current strays,
As thine, which visits Windsor's famed abodes,
To grace the mansion of our earthly gods;
Nor all his stars above a lustre show,
Like the bright beauties on thy banks below:
Where Jove, subdued by mortal passion still,
Might change Olympus for a nobler hill.
Happy the man whom this bright court approves, His sovereign favours, and his country loves : Happy next him, who to these shades retires, Whom nature charms, and whom the muse inspires, Whom humbler joys of home-felt quiet please, Successive study, exercise and ease.
He gathers health from herbs the forest yields,
And of their fragrant physic spoils the fields;
With chemic art exalts the mineral powers,
And draws the aromatic souls of flowers:
Now marks the course of rolling orbs on high;
O'er figured worlds now travels with his eye;
Of ancient writ unlocks the learned store,
Consults the dead, and lives past ages o'er:
Or wandering thoughtful in the silent wood,
Attends the duties of the wise and good,
T' observe a mean, be to himself a friend,
To follow Nature, and regard his end,
The muse shall sing, and what she sings shall last.)
Scarce could the goddess from her nymph be known,
But by the crescent, and the golden zone.
She scorn'd the praise of beauty, and the care;
A belt her waist, a fillet binds her hair;
A painted quiver on her shoulder sounds,
And with her dart the flying deer she wounds.
It chanced, as eager of the chase, the maid
Beyond the forest's verdant limits stray'd,
Pan saw and loved, and burning with desire
Pursued her flight; her flight increased his fire.
Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly,
When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky;
Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves,
Or looks on Heaven with more than mortal eyes,
Bids his free soul expatiate in the skies,
Amid her kindred stars familiar roam,
When thro' the clouds he drives the trembling doves; Survey the region, and confess her home!
As from the god she flew with furious pace,
Or as the god, more furious, urged the chace.
Now fainting, sinking, pale, the nymph appears;
Now close behind, his sounding steps she hears;
Such was the life great Scipio once admired, Thus Atticus, and Trumbull thus retired.
And now his shadow reach'd her as she run, His shadow lengthen'd by the setting sun;
Ye sacred Nine! that all my soul possess, Whose raptures fire me, and whose visions bless, Bear me, O bear me to sequester'd scenes, The bowery mazes, and surrounding greens;
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