DAPHNIS.

Nay, tell me first, in what more happy fields The thistle springs, to which the lily yields: 1 90 And then a nobler prize I will resign;

For Sylvia, charming Sylvia, shall be thine.

DAMON.

Cease to contend, for, Daphnis, I decree, The bowl to Strephon and the lamb to thee: Blest swains, whose nymphs in every grace

excel;

95

Blest nymphs, whose swains those graces sing so well!

Now rise, and haste to yonder woodbine bowers, A soft retreat from sudden vernal showers; The turf with rural dainties shall be crowned, While opening blooms diffuse their sweets around.

100

For see the gathering flocks to shelter tend, And from the Pleiads fruitful showers descend.

1 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. iii. :

"Dic quibus in terris inscripti nomina regum Nascantur flores, et Phyllida solus habeto."-P.

SUMMER: THE SECOND PASTORAL,

OR

ALEXIS.

TO DR. GARTH.

SHEPHERD'S boy (he seeks no
better name)

Led forth his flocks along the silver
Thame,

Where dancing sunbeams on the waters played,'
And verdant alders formed a quivering shade.
Soft as he mourned, the streams forgot to flow, 5
The flocks around a dumb compassion show,
The Naïads wept in every watery bower,
And Jove consented in a silent shower.2
Accept, O GARTH, the Muse's early lays,3
That adds this wreath of ivy to thy bays;
Hear what from love unpractised hearts en-

dure,

From love, the sole disease thou canst not

cure.

Ye shady beeches, and ye cooling streams, Defence from Phoebus', not from Cupid's beams,

1 The scene of this Pastoral by the river's side, suitable to the heat of the season; the time, noon. -P.

2 "Jupiter et læto descendet plurimus imbri.”

Virg.-P.

3 Dr. Samuel Garth, author of the Dispensary, was one of the best friends of the author, whose acquaintance with him began at fourteen or fifteen. Their friendship continued from the year 1703 to 1718, which was that of his death.-P.

15

To you I mourn, nor to the deaf I sing,1 "The woods shall answer, and their echo ring."2

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 parched with heat, and I inflamed by thee.

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

20

Where stray ye, Muses, in what lawn or
3
grove,

While your Alexis pines in hopeless love?
In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides, 25
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. 30
Once I was skilled 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!

1 "Non canimus surdis, respondent omnia sylvæ." Virg.-P.

2 A line out of Spenser's Epithalamion.—P.

3 "Quæ nemora, aut qui vos saltus habuere, puellæ
Naïades, indigno cum Gallus amore periret?
Nam neque Parnassi vobis juga, nam neque Pindi
Ulla moram fecere, neque, Aoniæ Aganippe."
Virg. out of Theocr.-P.

4 Virgil again, from the Cyclops of Theocritus:

nuper me in littore vidi, Cum placidum ventis staret mare; non ego Daphnim, Judice te, metuam, si nunquam fallit imago."-P.

Let other swains attend the rural care, Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces shear:

35

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 breath1 Inspired when living, and bequeathed in 2 death:

40

44

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 despised by thee.
Oh! were I made by some transforming power,
The captive bird that sings within thy bower!
Then might my voice thy listening ears employ,
And I those kisses he receives enjoy.

And yet my numbers please the rural throng, Rough satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the

song:

50

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 bestowed again.

For you the swains the fairest flowers design, 55
And in one garland all their beauties join;
Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,
In whom all beauties are comprised in one.

See what delights in sylvan scenes appear! Descending gods have found Elysium here. 60

3

1 The name taken by Spenser in his Eclogues, where his mistress is celebrated under that of Rosalinda.-P. 2 Virg. Ecl. ii. :

"Est mihi disparibus septem compacta cicutis Fistula, Damcetas dono mihi quam dedit olim, Et dixit moriens, Te nunc habet ista secundum.”—P.

3 "Habitarunt di quoque sylvas.”—Virg.

"Et formosus oves ad flumina pavit Adonis."

Idem.-P.

In woods bright Venus with Adonis strayed, And chaste Diana haunts the forest-shade. Come, lovely nymph, and bless the silent hours, When swains from shearing seek their nightly bowers;

When

65

weary reapers quit the sultry field, And crowned 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.
O deign to visit our forsaken seats,
The mossy fountains, and the green retreats!
Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the

glade,

70

Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade : Where'er you tread, the blushing flowers shall

rise,

75

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,

1

And winds shall waft it to the powers above.2 80 But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain, The wondering forests soon should dance again,

1 Your praise the tuneful birds to heaven shall bear,

And listening wolves grow milder as they hear."

So the verses were originally written; but the author, young as he was, soon found the absurdity which Spenser himself overlooked, of introducing wolves into England.-P.

2 "Partem aliquam, venti, divum referatis ad aures!"

Virg.-P.