PASTORALS. I. Spring; or Damon. TO SIR WILLIAM TRUMBAL. FIRST in these fields I try the silvan strains, You, that too wise for pride, too good for power, Enjoy the glory to be great no more, And, carrying with you all the world can boast, Soon as the flocks shook off the nightly dews, Two swains, whom love kept wakeful, and the Muse, Pour'd o'er the whitening vale their fleecy care, Fresh as the morn, and as the season fair; The dawn now blushing on the mountain's side, Thus Daphnis spoke, and Strephon thus replied: DAPH. Hear how the birds on every blooming With joyous music wake the dawning day! [spray Why sit we mute, when early linnets sing, When warbling Philomel salutes the spring Why sit we sad, when Phosphor shines so clear, DAPH. And I this bowl, where wanton ivy twines, And what is that, which binds the radiant sky, Where twelve fair signs in beauteous order lie? DAM. Then sing by turns, by turns the Muses sing; Now hawthorns blossom, now the daisies spring; Now leaves the trees, and flowers adorn the ground: Begin, the vales shall every note rebound. STREPH. Inspire me, Phœbus! in my Delia's praise, With Waller's strains, or Granville's moving lays: While a kind glance at her pursuer flies, Feed here my lambs, I'll seek no distant field. showers, If Windsor-shades delight the matchless maid, The sun's mild lustre warms the vital air; STREPH. In spring the fields, in autumn hills I More bright than noon, yet fresh as early day: Even spring displeases, when she shines not here; But bless'd with her, 'tis spring throughout the year. STREPH. Say, Daphnis, say, in what glad soil appears A wondrous tree, that sacred monarchs bears'? An allusion to the royal oak, in which Charles II. had been hid from his pursuers after the battle of Worcester. Tell me but this, and I'll disclaim the prize, For Sylvia, charming Sylvia, shall be thine. so well! Now rise, and haste to yonder woodbine bowers, II. Summer; or Alexis, TO DR. GARTH. A SHEPHERD'S boy (he seeks no better name) Led forth his flocks along the silver Thame, Where dancing sunbeams on the waters play'd, And verdant alders form'd a quivering shade. Soft as he mourn'd, the streams forgot to flow, The flocks around a dumb compassion show, 2 Alludes to the device of the Scots' monarchs, the thistle, worn by Queen Anne; and to the arms of France, the fleur de lys. The two riddles are in imitation of those in Virg. Ecl. 3d. The Naïads wept in every watery bower, Accept, O Garth! the Muse's early lays, That adds this wreath of ivy to thy bays; Hear what from love unpractised 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 sing, 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 inflamed by thee. 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 Isis glides, Or else where Cam his winding vales divides? As in the crystal spring I view my face, Fresh rising blushes paint the watery glass; But since those graces please thy eyes no more, I shun the fountains which I sought before. Once I was skill'd in every herb that grew, And every plant that drinks the morning dew; Ah, wretched shepherd what avails thy art, To cure thy lambs, but not to heal thy heart! Let other swains attend the rural care, Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces shear: 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 Inspired when living, and bequeath'd in death; |