Imatges de pÓgina
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STREPHON. Inspire me, Phoebus, in my Delia's praife, 45 With Waller's ftrains, or Granville's * moving lays ! A milk-white bull shall at your altars ftand, That threats a fight, and spurns the rising fand,

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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 vi&im, Love, shall be the shepherd's heart,

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

DAPHNIS.
The sprightly Sylvia trips along the green,
She runs, but hopes she does not run unseen;
While a kind glance at her pursuer flies,
How much at variance are her feet and eyes !

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And trees weep

STREPHON.
O’er golden fands let rich Pactolus flow,

amber on the banks of Po;
Bleft Thames's shores the brightest beauties yield,
Feed here my lambs, I'll seek

na distant 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 Windfor shade,

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George Granville, afterwards Lord Landsdowne.

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STREPHON,

STREPHON. All nature mourns, the skies relent in show'rs, Hush'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.

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DAPHNIS.
All nature laughs, the groves are fresh and fair,
The sun's mild lustre warms the vital air;
If-Sylvia fmiles, new glories gild the shore,
And vanquish'd nature feems to charm no more.

STREPHON.
In spring the fields, in autumn hills I love,
At morn the plains, at noon the shady grove,
But Delia always; absent from her fight,
Nor plains at morn, nor groves at noon delight.

DAPHNIS.
Sylvia's like autumn ripe, yet mild as May,
More bright than noon, yet fresh as early day;
Ev'n spring displeases, when she shines not here ;
But bleft with her, ’tis spring throughout the year,

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STREPHON.

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Say, shepherd, 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 conquest to thy Sylvia's eyes.

An allusion to the Royal Oak, in which Charles II. had been hid from the pursuit after the battle of Worcester. This line las been almost uni. versally cavilled at by the critics, especially by the author of an Eliy on the Genius, &c. It is, however, perhaps with more ingenuity than propriety defunded by Mr. Rufihead.

DAPHNIS,

DAPHNIS.
Nay tell me first, in what more happy fields
The Thistle springs, to which the Lilly yields 7?
And then a nobler prize I will resign;
For Sylvia, charming Sylvia, shall be thine.

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DAMON.

Cease to contend, for (Daphnis) I decree The bowl to Strephon, and the lamb to thee : Bleft Swains, whole nymphs in ev'ry grace excel, 95 Bleft Nymphs, whose lwains those graces sing so well! Now rise and haste to yonder woodbine bow'rs, A soft retreat from fudden vernal show'rs; The turf with rural dainties shall be crown'd, While opening blooms diffuse their sweets around. For see! the gath’ring flocks to Thelter tend, And from the Pleiads fruitful show'rs descend,

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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.

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Led fofth his flocks along the silver Thame,
Where dancing sun-beams on the waters play'd,
And verdant alders form’d a quiv'ring shade.
There while he mourn'd, the streams forgot to flow, 5.
The flocks around a dumb compaffion show,
The Naiads wept in ev'ry wat’ry bow'r,
And Jove consented in a filent show'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 sole disease thou canst not cure,
Ye shady beeches, and ye cooling streams,
Defence from Phoebus, not from Cupid's beams,
To you I mourn, nor to the deaf I fing,

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The woods shall answer, 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.

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* The Scene of this Pastoral by the River's side, suitable to the heat of the season ; the Time, Noon.

# Dr. Samuel Garth, author of the Dispensary, was one of the first friends of the author, whose acquaintance with him began at fourteen or fif

Their friendship continued from the year 1703, to 1758, which was that of the doctor's death.

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

Where stray. ye Muses, in what lawn or grove,
While your Alexis pines in hopeless love?
In those fair fields, where sacred Ifis glides,

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Or else where Cam his winding vales divides de
As in the crystal spring I view my face,
Fresh riling blushes paint the wat’ry glass;
But since 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 swains attend the rural care,

35 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 said, Alexis, take this pipe, the fame That taught the groves my Rosalinda's name : But now the reeds shall hang on yonder tree, For ever filent, fince despis'd by thee. Oh! were I made by some transforming pow'r 45 The captive bird that fings within thy bow'r ! Then might my voice thy liftning ears employ, And I those kiffes he receives, enjoy.

yet my numbers please the rural throng, Rough Satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song: 50 The Nymphs førsaking ev'ry cave and spring, 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 swains the faireft flow'rs design, :55 And in one garland all their beauties joiny.

* The name taken by Spenser in his Eclogues, where his mist:cfs is cele. brated under that of Rosalinda.

Accept

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