صور الصفحة
النشر الإلكتروني








FIRST in these fields I try the sylvan strains,
Nor blush to sport on Windsor's blissful plains:
Fair Thames, flow gently from thy sacred spring,
While on thy banks Sicilian Muses sing;
Let vernal airs through trembling osiers play,
And Albion's cliffs resound the rural lay.

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,
To all the world illustriously are lost!
O let my Muse her slender reed inspire,
Till in your native shades you tune the lyre:
So when the nightingale to rest removes,
The thrush may chant to the forsaken groves,
But charm'd to silence, listens while she sings,
And all th' aërial audience clap their wings.

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 reply'd.


Hear how the birds, on every bloomy spray,
With joyous music wake the dawning day!
Why sit we mute, when early linnets sing,
When warbling Philomel salutes the Spring?
Why sit we sad, when Phosphor shines so clear,
And lavish Nature paints the purple year?


Sing then, and Damon shall attend the strain, While yon slow oxen turn the furrow'd plain. Here the bright crocus and blue violet glow; Here western winds on breathing roses blow. I'll stake yon lamb, that near the fountain plays, And from the brink his dancing shade surveys. 34


And I this bowl, where wanton ivy twines,

[blocks in formation]

And swelling clusters bend the curling vines : 36 Ver. 61. Originally thus in the MS.


Ver. 34. The first reading was,

And his own image from the bank surveys.

Ver. 36, And clusters lurk beneath the curling vines.

Go, flowery wreath, and let my Sylvia know, Compar'd to thine how bright her beauties


Then die; and dying, teach the lovely maid How soon the brightest beauties are decay'd.


[blocks in formation]

Blest Thames's shores the brightest beauties yield,
Feed here, my lambs, I'll seek no distant field.


Celestial Venus haunts Idalia's groves ;
Diana Cynthus, Ceres Hybla loves:
If Windsor shades delight the matchless maid,
Cynthus and Hybla yield to Windsor-shade.


All Nature mourns, the skies relent in showers,
Hush'd are the birds, and clos'd the drooping flowers;
If Delia smile, the flowers begin to spring,
The skies to brighten, and the birds to sing.


All Nature laughs, the groves are fresh and
The Sun's mild lustre warms the vital air; [fair, 69
If Sylvia smiles, new glories gild the shore,
And vanquish'd Nature seems to charm no more.


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


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, bless'd with her, 'tis spring throughout the year.


Say, Daphnis, say, in what glad soil appears, A wondrous tree that sacred monarchs bears : Tell me but this, and I'll disclaim the prize, And give the conquest to thy Sylvia's eyes.


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


[blocks in formation]

do, tuneful bird, that pleas'd the woods so long,
Of Amaryllis learn a sweeter song:
To Heav'n arising then her notes convey,
For Heav'n alone is worthy such a lay.
Ver. 69, &c. These verses were thus at first:
All Nature mourns, the birds their songs deny,
Nor wasted brooks the thirsty flowers supply;
If Delia smile, the flowers begin to spring.
The brooks to murmur, and the birds to sing.
Ver. 99. was originally,

The turf with country dainties shall be spread,
And trees with twining branches shade your head.




A SHEPHERD'S boy (he seeks no better name)
Led forth his flocks along the silver Thame,
Where dancing sun-beams 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,
The Naiads wept in every watery bower,
And Jove consented in a silent shower.
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 Phœbus', 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 mflam'd 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 inore,
I shun the fountains which I sought before.
Once I was skill'd in every berb 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 sheer:
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 same
That taught the groves my Rosalinda's name.
But now the reeds shall hang on yonder tree,
For ever silent, since despis'd by thee.
O! were I made by some transforming power
The captive bird that sings within thy bower!
Then might my voice thy listening cars employ,
And I those kisses he receives enjoy.

[blocks in formation]

And yet my numbers please the rural throng,
Rough satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song:
The nymphs, forsaking every cave and spring,
Their early fruit and milk-white turtles bring!
Each amorous nymph prefers her gifts in vain,
On you their gifts are all bestow'd again :
For you the swains the fairest flowers design,
And in one garland all their beauties join ;
Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,
In whom all beautics are compris'd in one.

See what delights in sylvan scenes appear!
Descending gods have found Elysium here.
In woods bright Venus with Adonis stray'd,
And chaste Diana haunts the forest shade.
Come, lovely nymph, and bless the silent hours,
When swains froin shearing seek their nightly bowers;
When weary reapers quit the sultry field,
And crown'd with corn their thanks to Ceres yield.
This harmless grove no lurking viper hides,
But in my breast the serpent Love abides.
Here bees from blossoms sip the rosy dew,
But your Alexis knows no sweets but you.
Oh deign to visit our forsaken seats,
The mossy fountains, and the green retreats!
Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade;
Trees, where you sit, shall croud into a shade:
Where'er you tread, the blushing flowers shall rise,
And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
Oh! how I long with you to pass my days,
Invoke the Muses, and resound your praise!
Your praise the birds shall chant in every grove, 79
And winds shall waft it to the powers above.
But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain,
The wondering forests soon should dance again,
The moving mountains hear the powerful call,
And headlong streams hang listening in their fall!
But see, the shepherds shun the noon-day heat,
The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat,
To closer shades the panting flocks remove;
Ye gods! and is there no relief for love?
But soon the Sun with milder rays descends
To the cool ocean, where his journey ends:
On me Love's fiercer flames for ever prey,
By night he scorches, as he burns by day.



Whose sense instructs us,and whose humour charms,
Whose judgment sways us, and whose spirit warms!
Oh, skill'd in Nature! see the hearts of swains,
Their artless passions, and their tender pains.

Now setting Phoebus shone serenciy bright,
And fleecy clouds were streak'd with purple light;
When tuneful Hylas, with melodious moan,
Taught rocks to weep, and made the mountains

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
To Delia's ear the tender notes convey.
As some sad turtle his lost love deplores,
And with deep murmurs fills the sounding shores;
Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I mourn,
Alike unheard, unpity'd, and forlorn.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along!
For her, the feather'd quires neglect their song:
For her, the limes their pleasing shades deny!
For her, the lilies hang their heads and die.
Ye flowers that droop, forsaken by the Spring,
Ye birds, that, left by Summer, cease to sing,
Ye trees that fade when Autumn heats remove,
Say, is not absence death to those who love?

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
Curs'd 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 sun-shine 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? 48
Through rocks and caves the name of Delia sounds;
91 Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds.

[blocks in formation]

Ye powers, what pleasing frenzy sooths 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 sung, while Windsor groves admir'd;
Rehearse, y Muses, what yourselves inspir'd.
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strain!
Of perjur'd 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 carv'd her amorous vows,
While she with garlands hung the bending boughs:
The garlands fade, the vows are worn away;
So dies her love, and so my hopes decay.


Ver. 48. Originally thus in the MS.

With him through Libya's burning plains I'll go,
On Alpine mountains tread th' eternal snow;
Yet feel no heat but what our loves impart,
And dread no coldness but in Thyrsis' heart.

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 awails it me the flocks to keep, Who lost my heart while I preserv'd my sheep? Pan came, and ask'd, what magic caus'd 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 sung the shepherds till th' approach of night, The skies yet blushing with departed light, When falling dews with spangles deck the glade, And the low Sun had lengthen'd every shade.

[blocks in formation]

"Let Nature change, let Heaven and Earth deplore, Fair Daphne's dead, and Love is now no more!"

"Tis done, and Nature's various charms decay: 29 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; Th' industrious becs 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!

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

In reading several passages of the prophet Isaiah, which foretel the coming of Christ, and the felicities attending it, I could not but observe a remarkable parity between 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 Sibyline prophecy 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 particular 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, under the same disadvantage of a literal translation.


[blocks in formation]

Ver. 8. A Virgin shall conceive-All crimes shall cease, &c.] Virg. Ecl. iv. ver. 6.

Jam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna; Jam nova progenies cœlo demittitur alto. Te duce, si qua maneant sceleris vestigia nostri, Irrita perpetua solvent formidine terrasPacatumque 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."

From Jesse's' root behold a branch arise,
Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies:
Th' æthereal 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 shower!
The sick and weak the healing plant shall aid,
From storm a shelter, and from heat a shade.
All crimes shall cease, and ancient frauds shall fail;
Returning Justice lift aloft her scale;
Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend,
And white-rob'd Innocence from Heaven descend.
Swift fly the years, and rise th' expected morn!
Oh spring to light, auspicious Babe, be born!
See, Nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring, 23
With all the incense of the br athing spring:
See lofty Lebanon' his head advance,
See nodding forests on the mountains dance:
See spicy clouds from lowly Saron rise,
And Carmel's flowery top perfumes the skies!
Hark! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers;
Prepare the way! a God, a God appears!



shall conceive and bear a Son--Chap. ix. ver. 6, Isaiah, ch. vii. ver. 14. "Behold a Virgin the Prince of Peace: of the increase of his 7. Unto us a Child is born; unto us a Son is given; ment, and of his peace, there shall be no end: governUpon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, with justice, for ever and ever." to order and to establish it, with judgment and

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 acanthoIpsa 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. xxxi. ver. 1. "The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad, and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose." Ch. Ix. 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 sanctuary."

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.

Ipsa 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 increase 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!"

Isaiah, Ch. xl. ver. 3, 4. "The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord! make straight in the desert a highway for our God! Every valley shall be exalted Isai. xi. ver. 1. 2 Ch. xlv. ver. 8. 3 Ch. xxv. ver. 4. 4 Ch. ix. ver. 7. Ch. xxxv. ver. 2. Ch. xl. ver. 3, 4

« السابقةمتابعة »