Imatges de pÓgina


Why sit we sad when Phosphor shines so clear,

STREPHON. And lavish Nature paints the purple year? In spring the fields, in autumn hills I love, STREPHON.

At morn the plains, at noon the shady grove, Sing then, and Damon shall attend the strain, But Delia always; absent from licr fight, While yon Now oxen turn the furrow'd plain. Nor plains at morn, nor groves at noon delight. Here the bright crocus and blue violet glow; Here western winds on breathing roses blow. Sylvia 's like autumn ripe, yet mild as May, I'll take yon lam!) that near the fountain plays, More bright than noon, yet fresh as early day; And from the brink his dancing flade surveys. E'en spring displeates when she thines not here ; DAPHNIS.

But, bleft with her, 'tis spring throughout the And I this bowl, where wanton ivy twines,

year. And swelling clusters bend the curling vines :

STREPHON. Four figures rising from the work appear, Say, Daphnis, say, in what glad soil appears The various seasons of the rolling year;

A wondrous Tree that facred Monarchs bears : And what is that, which binds the radiant sky, Tell me but this, and I'll disclaim the prize, Where twelve fair signs in beauteous order lie? And give the conquest to thy Sylvia's eyes.






Then fing by turns, by turns the Muses fing, Nay, tell me first, in what more happy fields Now hawthorns blossom, now the daisies spring, The Thitile springs, to which the Lily yields: Now leaves the trees, and flow'rs adorn the ground; And then a nobier prize I will resign; Begin, the vales Thall ev'ry note rebound. For Sylvia, charining Sylvia, shall be chine.

STREPHON. Inspire me, Phæbus, in my Delia's praise, Cease to contend; for, Daphnis, I decree With Waller's strains, or Granville's moving lays ! The bowl to Strephon, and the lamb to thee: A milk-white Bull Thall at your altars ftand, Bleft Swains, whose Nymphs in every grace excel; That threats a fight, and fpurns the rising sand. Bleft Nymphs, whofe Swains those graçes fing to

well! O Love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize, Now rile, and haste to yonder wcodbine bow'rs, And make my tongue victorious as her eyes : A soft retreat froin sudden vernal show'rs; No lambs or thecp for victims I 'll impart; The turf with rural dainties thall be crown'd, Thy vićtim, Love, hall be the shepherd's heart. While op'ning bloomis diffuse their tweets around.

For, see! the gatlı'ring flocks to thelier tend, Me gentle Delia beckons from the plaia ;

And from the Pleiads fruitful fhow'rs descend, Then, hid in shades, eludes her cager livain; But fcigns a laugh, to ice me search around,

PASTORAL II. SUMMER. And by that laugh the willing fair is found.

Adkleid to Dr. GABIH. DAPHNIS. The sprightly Sylvia trips along the green; A Shepherd's hov (le focks no better name) she runs, but hopes the does not run unseen;

Led forth his flocks along the bilier Thame, While a kind glance at her purfuer dies

Where dancing lun-beams on the waters play'd, How much at variance are her feet and eyes!

and verjant alders form'd a quiv'ring fhade.

Soft as he inourn'd, the itrcanis forgot to flow, STREPlov.

The flocks around a dumb compaflion show, O'er golden sands let rich Pactolus flow,

The Naiads wept in ev'ry wat'ry bow'r, And trees weep aniber on the banks of Po;

And Jore contented in a lilent show'r. Bleft Thames's shores the brightest beauties yield;

Accept, () Garth, the Muse's carly lays, Feed hcre, my lambs, I 'll leck no dittant field.

That adits this wreath of ivy to thy bays;

Hear uliat from Love unpractis'd hearts endure, Celestial Venus haunts Idalja's groves ; from lore, the fole discale thou canst not cure. Diana Cynthus, Ceres Hybla loves;

Ye fhady beeches, and ye cooling freams, If Windfor-shades delight the matchless maid, Defence fiom Phabus', nút from Cupid's beams, Cynthus and Hybla yield to Windsor-thade.

To you I mourn, nor to the deaf I fing;

The woods shall antwer, and their echo ring. All nature mourns, the skies relent in show'rs, The hills and rocks attend my doleful layHulh'd are the birds, and clos'd the drooping Why art thou prouder and more hard than they?

The blearing theep with my complaints agree; If Delia sinile, the flow'rs begin to spring, They parch'd with heat, and I infiam'd by thee. The skies to brighten, and the birds to ling. The fultry Sirius burns the thirsty plains, DAPHNIS.

While in thy heart eternal winter reigns. All nature laughs, the groves are fresh and fair, Where stray ve, Musus, in what lawn or grove, The sun's mild lustre warnis the vital air'; While your Alexis pinos in hopeless love? If Sylvia smiles, new glories gild the shore,' In those fair fields where lacred Ifis glidcs, And vanquish'd nature seems to charm no more. Or elle where Cam his wind'ng vales divides ?





As in the crystal spring I view my face, But soon the fun with milder rays descends
Fresh rising blushes paint the wat'ry glass; To the cool ocean, where his journey ends :
But since those graces please thy eyes no more, On me Love's fiercer flames for ever prey ;
I thun the fountains which I fought before. By night he scorches, as he burns by day.
Once I was skilld in ev'ry herb that grow,
And ev'ry plant that drinks the morning dew; PASTORAL III. AUTUMN.
Ah, wretched thepherd, what avails thy art,
To cure thy lainbs, but not to heal thy heart !

Add cffed to Mr. Iricherley.
Let other swains attend the rural care,

BENEATH the shade a spreading beech disFeed fairer focks, or richer fleeccs shear : Hslas and Ægon sung their rural lays : [plays But nigh yon mountain let me tune my lays, This mourn'd a faithless, that an abient Love; Embrace my Love, and bind my brows with bavs. And Delia's name and Doris’ fillid the grove. That fucc is mine which Colin's tuneful breath Ye Mantuan nymphs, your sacred succour bring; Inspir'd when living, and bequeath'd in death: Hylas and Ægon's rural lays I sing. He faid- Alexis, take this pipe, the same Thou, whom the Nine with Plautus' wit inThat taught the groves my Rosalinda's name: The art of Terence, and Menander's fire; [spire, But now the reeds shall hang on yonder tree, Whofe fense instructs us, and whose humour For ever filent, fince defpis d by thee.


(warms ! Dh! were I made by some transforming pow's Whofe judgment fways us, and whole spirit The captive bird that fings within thy bow'r! Oh, skill'd in nature ! lee the hearts of swains, Then might my voice thy lift’ning ears employ, Their artless patlions, and their tender pains. And I thofe kifles he reccives enjoy.

Now setting Phæbus thone serenely bright, And yet my numbers please the rural throng, And fleecy clouds were streak’d with purple light; Rough Satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the fong: When tuneful Hylas with melodious moan The Nymphs, forsaking ev'ry cave and spring, Taught rocks to weep, and made the mountains Their early fruit and milk-white turtles bring : groan. Each am'rous nymph prefers her gifts in vain, Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! On you their gifts are all bestow'd again. To Delia's ear the tender notes convey. For you the livains the fairest flow'rs design, As some fad Turtle his loft love deplores, And in one garland all their beauties join : And with deep murmurs fills the sounding Thores; Accept the wreath which you deserve alone, Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I'mourn, In whom all beauties are compris'd in one. Alike unheard, unpitied, and forlorn.

Sec what delights in fylvan scenes appear! Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along! Descending gods have found Elyfium here. For her, the feather'd choirs neglect their song; In woods bright Venus with Adonis ftray'd, For her, the lines their pleasing fades deny And chaste Diana haunts the forest-1hade. For her, the lilies hang their heads and die. Come, lovely nymph, and bless the filent hours, Yo flow'rs that droop, forsaken by the spring; When fwains from theering seek their nightly Ye birds that, left by sommer, cease to ling; bow'rs;

Yestrees that fade when autumn heats remore When weary reapers quit the sultry field, Say; is not absence death to those who love? And crown'd with corn their thanks to Ceres yield. Go, gentle gales, and bear'my sighs away! This harmless grove no lurking viper hides, Curs'd be the fields that cause my Delia's Itay;". But in my breast the fcrpent Love abides. Fade ev'ry blossom, wither ev'ry tree, Here bees from bloiloms lip the rosy dew, Die ev'ry flow'r, and perilh all but the ! But your Alexis knows no fwects but


What have I said where'er my Delia flies, Oh deign to visit our fortaken seats,

Leţ (pring attend, and sudden flow'rs arise ; The mosly fountains, and the green retreats! Let op'ning rofes knotted-oaks adorn, Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade, Ayddiquid amber drop from ev'ry ghorn. Trees, where you fit, fhall crowd into a Made : Go, gentle gales, and bear 'my fighs along! Where'er you tread, the blushing flow'rs Mall The birds shall cease to tune their cv'ning song. risc,

The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move, And all things Aourish where you turn your eyes. And streams to murmur ere I ceale to love. Oh! how I long with you to pass my days,

Not bubbling fountains to the thirsty Swain. Invoke the Muses, and resound your praile! Not balmy seep to lab’rers faint with pain, Your praise the birds Thall chant in ev'ry grove,, Not low'rs to larks, or sunshine to the bee, And winds hall waft it to the pow'rs above. Are half so charming as thy right to me. But would you fing, and rival Orpheus' strain, Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! The wond'ring forests foon should dance again, Come, Delia, come; ah, why this long delay? The moving mountains hear the pow'rful call, Thro' rocks and caves the name of Delia sounds: And headlong streams hang list'ning in their fall! Delia, each cave and echoing, rock sebounds.

But see, the shepherds hun the noon-day heat, Ye pow’rs, what pleasing phrenly sooths my The lowing herds to murm’ring brooks retreat ; Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind? [mind! To closer thades the panting flocks remove; She comes, my Delia comes ! Now cease, my lay; Yc gods , and is there rio relief for Love? And ccafe, ye gales, to bear my sighs away!


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NextÆgonsung, while Windfor groves admir’d; , Thames hcard the numbers, as he flow'd along, Rehearfe, ye Mules, what yourselves inspir'd. And bade his willows Icarn the moving fong.

Resound, ye hills, resound iny mournful strain! Of perjur'd Doris, dying I complain :

LYCIDAS. Here where the mountains, less'ning as they risc,

So may kind rains their vital moisture yield, Lore the low vales, and steal into the skies; And twell the future harvest of the field. While lab'ring oxen, spent with toil and heat, Beyin ; this charge the dying Daphne gave, In their loofe iraces from the field retreat;

And laid, · Ye shepherds, fing around my grave!' While curling smokes from village-tops are feen, Sing, while beside the fhaded tomb / mourn, And the fleet Thades glide o'er the dusky green.

And with freth bays her rural shrine adorn. Refound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay!

Beneath yon poplar oft we pass'd the day :
Oft on the rind I carr'd her am'rous vows,

Ye gentle Muses, leave your crystal spring, While she with garlands hung the bending boughs. Ye weeping Loves, the stream with myrtles hide,

Let Nymphs and Sylvans cyprefs garlands bring; The garlands fade, the vows are worn away ; So dies her love, and so my hopes decay.

And break your bows as when Adonis died; Refonnd, ye hills, refound my mournful ftrain! And with your golden darts, now useless grown, Now bright Arcturus glads the teeming grain,

Inscribe a versc on this relenting stone:

“ Let nature change, lee heaven and earth deplore! Nou golden fruits on loaded branches thine, And grateful clusters fwell with floods of winc;

“Fair Daphne 's dead, and love is now no more !''

'Tis done, and nature's various charms decay,
Now bhushing berries paint the yellow grove;
Just gods! thall all things yield returns but love? See gloomy cloods obscure the cheerful day!
Refound, yc hills, resound

mournful lay!

Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear, The fhepherds cry, “Thy socks are left a prey." | See where on earth the Aow'ry glorics lie,

Thcir faded honours scatter'd on her bier. Ah! what avails it me the flocks to keep, Who lost my heart while I preferv'd my sheep? With her they fourith’d, and with her they die. Pat came, and’ask'd what magic caus’d my smart, Ah, what avail the beauties nature wore : Or what ill eyes malignant glances dart?

Fair Daphne 's dead, and beauty is no more! What eyes bát hers, alas ! have pow's to move : The thirsty heifers fhun the gliding food ;

For her the focks refuse their verdant food, And is there magic but what dwells in love? Resound, yc hills, resound my mournfulfrains! In notes morc fad than when they fing their own ;

The silver swans her hapless fate bemoan I'll fly from thepherds, flocks, and flow'ry plains. In hollow caves siveet Echo silent lics, From thepherds, flocks, and plains, I may remove, Silent, or only to her name replies ; Forfake mankind, and all the world—but Love! I know thee, Love! on foreign mountains bred, Her name with pleasure once she taught the shore; Wolves gave thee fuck, and favage tigers fed :

Now Daphne 's dead, and pleasure is no more ! Thou wert from Ætna's burning entrails torn,

No grateful dews deicend from ev'ning skies, Goc by fierce whirlwinds, and in thunder born! No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field,

Nor morning odours from the flow'rs ariic; Resound, ye hills, pefound my mournful lay! Nor fragrant herbs their native incense yield Farewell, ye woods I adieu, the light of day! Ona heap from yonder cliff fhail end my pains :

The balmy Zephyrs, filent since her death, No more, ye hills, no more resound my strains !

Lament the ccafing of a sweeter breath; Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night, Fair Daphne 's dead, and sweetness

is no more !

Th' industrious becs neglect their golden store ; The kies yet blushing with departing lighe; When falling dews with spangles deck d the glade, shall, lift'ning in inid air, suspend their wings;

Nomorethe mountinglarks, while Daphne fings, And the low sun had lengthea'd ev'ry fhade.

No more the birds fhall imitate her lays, PASTORAL IV. WINTER. Or, hush'd with wonder, hcarken from the sprays; To ibe Memory of Mrs. Tempefi.

No more the streams their murmurs shall forhcar,

A fweeter music than thçir own to hear;

But tell the reeds, and tell the vocal thore,
THYRSIS, the music of that murm'ring spring Fair Daphne 's dead, and music is no more!
Is not po mournful as the strains you sing;

Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze, Nor rivers winding thro' che vales Below

And told in sighs to all the trembling trees; So sweerly warble, or so smoothly flow.

The trembling trees, in ev'ry plain and wood, Now tleeping Hocks on their soft fleeces lie,

Her fate remurmur to the filver flood; The moon, ferene in glory, mounts the fky, The filver flood, so lately calm, appears While' filent birds forget their tuneful lays, Oh fing of Daphne’s tare, and Daphne's praise! The winds, and trees, and Hoods, her death deplore,

Swell'd with new pallion, ando'erflows with tears, THYRSIS.

Daphne, our grief, our glory, now no more! Behold the groves that shine with silver frost, But see! where Daphne wond'ring mounts on Their beauty wither'd, and their verdure lost. Above the clouds, above the starry sky! [uigh, Herc fhall I try the sweet Alexis' strain, Eternal beauties grace the thining Scene, That call the lift'ning Dryads to the plain! Fields ever freihi, and groves for ever green!




There, while you rest in amaranthine bow'rs, See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crown'd;
Or from those meads felcēt unfading fow'rs, Here blushing Flora paints th' enamcil'd ground,
Behold us kindly, who your name implore, Here Cercs' gifts in waving prospect stand,
Daphne, our goddess, and our grief no more ! And nodding tempt the joyful rearer's hand;

Rich Industry fits liniling on the plains,

And peace and plenty tell, a Stuart reigns.
How all things liften while thy Musc complains! Not thus the land appear'd in ages past,
Such filence waits on Philomela's ftrains
In fome ftill ev'ning, when the whisp'ring brecze To savage beasts and favage laws a prey;

A dreary desert, and a gloomy waste;
Pants on the leaves, and dies upon the trees.
To thee, bright goddess, oft a lamb shall bleed, Who claim'd the skies, dispeopled air and floods,

And kings more furious and severe than they; If teening cives increase my fleccy breed. (give, The lonely lords of empty wilds and woods : While plants their shade, or flow'rs their odours Cities laid waste, thcy storm’d the deus and caves Thy name, thy honour, and thy praisc shall live! (lor wiler brutes were backward to be llaves).

What could be free, when lawless beasts obcy'd, But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews;

And ev'n the elements a tyrant lway'd Arile, the pincs a Roxious fhade diffuse;

In vain kind seasons swellid the recming grain, Sharp Boreas blows, and nature feels decay;

Soft show'rs distillid, and suns grew warm in vain, Time conquers all, and we must Tine obey. The Twain with tears his frultrate labour yiclus, Adieu, yevales, ye mountains, streains, and groves; And familh'd dies amidst his ripen'd fields. Adieu, ye thepherds' rural lays and loves ; What wonder then, a beast or subject lain Adieu, my tioks; farewel, ye lylvan crew;

Were equal crimes in a despotic reign?
Daphne, farewel, and all the world adicu!

Both doom'd alike for sportive tyrants bled;
But while the subject ftarv'd, the beast was fed.

Proud Nimrod firit the bloody chace began; § 5. Windfor-Fordt. Pope.

A mighty hunter, and his prey was man : To the Rt. Hon. George Lord Lansdown.

Our haughty Norman boasts that barb'rous name,

And makes his trembling Naves the royal game, THY forcks, Windsor and thy green retreats. The fields are ravish'd fruin th’induftrious rivains,

de once the Monarch's and the Mules' seats, From men their cities, and from gods their fanes: Invite my lays. Be prefent, fylvan maids ! The levellid towns with weeds lie cover'd v'er; Unlock your springs, and open all your thades. The hollow winds thro' naked temples roar; Granville commands; your aid, O Muses, bring! Round broken columns claiping ivy twin'd; Wbat Muse for Granville can refuse to ling? O'er heaps of ruin stalk'd the stately hind;

The groves of Eden, vanilh'd now so long, The fox obscene to gaping tombs retires;
Live in description, and look green in song: And lavage howlings fill the facred quires.
These, were my brcalt inspir’d with equal Hame, Aw'd by his noblcs, by his commons curkt,
Like them in hcauty, should be like in fame. Th'oppressor ruld tyrannic where he durit;
Herc hilis and valus, the woodland and the plain, Stretch'd o'er the poor and church his iron rod,
Here earth and water seem to strive again! And lerv'd alike his vassals and his God.
Not, chaos-like, together cruth'd and bruis’d, Whom ev'n thc Saxon spar'd, and bloody Danc,
But, as the world, harmoniously confus'd: The wanton vidims of his sport remain.
Where order in variety we see,

But fec, the man who spacious regions gave
And where, tho' all things differ, all agree. A waste for beasts, himself denied a grave!
Here waving groves a chequer'd scene display, Stretch'd on the lawn his second hope survey,
And part admit, and part exclude the day; At once the chafer, and at once the prey :
As fome coy nymph her lover's warm address Lo! Rufus, tugging at the deadly dart,
Nor quite indulges, nor can quite repress. Bleeds in the forest like a wounded hart.
There, interpers'd in lawns and op'ning glades, Succeeding monarchs heard the subject's cries,
Thin trees arise that thun cach other's shades: Nor saw displeas'd the peaceful cottage rise.
Here, in full light the rustet plains extend; Then gath’ring Pocks on unknown mountains fed;
There, wrapt in clouds, the blueith hills ascend. O'er fandy wilds were yellow harvests spread;
Ev'n the wild heath displays her purple dyes, The forests wonder'd at th' unusual grain,
Andômidst the desert fruitful fields arise, And secret transport touch'd the conscious Swain.
That, crown'd with tufted trees and fringing corn, Fair Liberty, Britannia's Goddess, rears
Like verdant illes, the table waste adorn. Her cheerful head, and leads the golden years.
Let India boalt her plants, nor envy we

Yevig'rous lwains ! while youth ferments your The weeping amber or the baliny tree, And purer spirits swell the sprightly flood, (blood, While by our paks the precious loads are borne, Now range the hills, the gameful woods beset, And realnis cominanded which those trees adorn. Wind the thrill horn, or spread the waving net. Not proud Olympus yields a nobler sight, When milder autumn summer's heat succeeds, Tho' gods assembled grace his tow'ring height, And in the new-lhorn held the partridge feeds, Than what more humidle mountains offer here, Before his lord the ready spaniel bounds, Where, in their blessings, all those gods appcar. Panting with hope, he tries the furrow'd grounds;


But when the tarted gales the game betray, | Whose care, like hers, protects the fylvan reign;
Couch'd close he lics, and meditates the prey : The earth's fair light, and Emprets of the main.
Secure they trust th' unfaithful field belet, Here too, 'uis sung, of old Diana ftray'd,
Till hov'ring o'er 'em fiveeps the swelling net. Avd Cynthus' top forfork for Windtor-shade;
Thus (if small things we may with grcat cumpare) Here was she feen o'er airy wastes to rove,
When Albion fends her cager fons to war, Seek the clear fpring, or haunt the pathiefs grove;
Some thoughtless town), with eafe and plenty bleft, Horc arm'd with silver bows, in carly dawn,
Near, and inore near, the closing lines invest; Her buskin'd Virgins trac'd the dewy lawn.
Sudden they feize th' ainaz’d, defenceless prize, Above the rest a rural nymph was fam 3,
And high in air Britannia's Itandard flies. Thy offspring, Thames! the tair Lodona nam'd
See ! from the brake the whirring phcafant (Lodena's fate, in long oblivion call,

The Nufe shall fing, and what the sings shall last): And mounts exulting on triumphant wings: Scarce could the Goddess from her nymph be Short is bis joy; he feels the fiery wound,

known, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground. But by the crescent, and the golden zone. Ah! what avail his glofly, varying dyes, She fcorn'd the praise of beauty, and the care; His purple crest and scarlet-circled eyes, A belt her wailt, a fillet binds her hair; The vivid green his shining plumes unfold, A pointed quiver on her shoulder founds, His painted wings, and breast that flames with And with her dart the Hying deer he wounds. gold !

It chanc'd, as, cager of the chace, the maid Nor yet, when moist Areturus clouds the sky, Beyond the forett's verdant limits itray'd, The woods and fields their pleasing toils deny. Pan saw and lov’d; and, burning with defire, To plains with well-breath'd beagles we repair, Pursued her fight; her fight incrcas d his fire.. And trace the mazes of the circling hare Not half ło swift the trembling doves can fly, (Beasts, urg'd by us, their fellow beasts pursue, When the fierce cagle cleaves the liquid sky; And learn of man each other to undo):

Not half so Civifily the fierce cagle moves, With Naught'ring gunsth'unwcaricd fowlerrores, When thro' tlic clouds he drives the trembling When froits have whiten's all the naked groves;

doves; Where doves in focks the leafless trees o'ershade, As froin the God lhe few with furioris pace, And lonely woodcocks haunt the wat'ry glade. Or as the God morc furious urg'd the chace. He lifts the tube, and levels with his cve; Now fainting, sinking, pale, the nymph appears; Straight a short thunder breaks the frozen sky: Now close behind his founding ticps the hears ; Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath, And now his thadow reach'd her as the run, The clam'rouis lapwings feel the leaden death ; Ilis lhadow lengthen’d by the setting fun; Ost, as the mounting larks their notes prepare, And now his thorter breath, with suitry air, 'They fall, and leave their little lives in air. Pants en hier nick, and fans her parring hair.

In genial spring, bencath the quiv'ring thade, In vain on father Thares the calls for aid, W’here cooling vapours breathe along the mead, Nor could Diana help hier injur'd maid. The patient fither takes his filent tand, Faint, brcathless, thus the pray'd, nor pray'd in Intent, his angle trembling in his hand : With looks unmov'd he hopes the scaly breed, “ Ah Cynthia! al--tho' banifi'a from thy train, And eyes the dancing cork and bending recd. “ Let mc, o let me, to the thades repair, Our plenteous streams a various race supply: soily native thades-there necp, and murmur The bright-cred porch, with tins of Tyrian dye; She said, and melting as in tears The lay, [there, ** The filver eel, in hining volumes roll'd; In a soft silver ftrcain dillolv'd away. The yellow carp, in fcales bedropt with gold ; The filver fircam her virgin coldnels keeps, Swift trouts, diversified with crimson stains; For ever murmurs, and for eser wecps; And pikes, the tyrants of the wat'ry plains. Still bears the name the hapless virgin bore,

Now Cancer glows with Phæbus' fiery car ; And bathes the forest where he rang'd before: The youth rush eager to the sylvan war, In her chaste current oft the Goddess laves, Swarin o'cr the lawns, the forest walk, lurround, And with celeliial tears auginents the waves. Route the Acet hart, and cheer the opening hound. Oft in her glass the musing thepherd spies Thi impatient courser pants in every vein, The headlong mountains and the downivard skies, And pawing seems to beat the distant plain : The wat'ry landskip of the pendent woods, Ilills, vales, and floods appear already cross'd, And absent trees that tremble in the foods; And ere he starts a thouland steps are loft. In the clear azure gleam the focks are seen, See the bold youth ftrain up the threat'ning feep, And Roating forests paint the waves with green; Ruth thro' the thickers, down the valley Tweep, Thro’ the fair scene roll Now the ling’ring streams, Ilang o'er tileir courfers' heads with eager fpeed, Then foaming pour along, and Puth into the And eart ii rolls back beneath the flying steed.

Thames. Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain,

Thou, too, great father of the British foods! Th’immortal huntrofs, and her virgin-train ; With joyful pride survey'st our lofty woods ;' Nip envy, Windfor! since thy fhades have sien Wacre tow'ring oaks their growing honours rear, As bright a Goddess, and as chaste a Queen: And future pavics on thy thores appear :



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