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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, And lavish Nature paints the purple year? [strain,
Strep. Sing then, and Damon shall attend the 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 froin the brink his dancing shade surveys.
Daph. And I, this bowl where wanton ivy twines, And swelling clusters bend the curling vines : Four figures rising from the work appear, The various seasons of the rolling year; 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, Phæbus! in my Delia's praise, With Waller's strains, or Granville’s moving lays : A milk-white ball shall at your altars stand, That threats a fight, and spurns the rising sand.
Daph. 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 victim, Love, shall be the shepherd's heart.
Streph. Me gentle Delia 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.
Daph. 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!
Streph. O’er golden sands let rich Pactolus flow, And trees weep aniber on the banks of Po; Bless'd Thames's shores the brightest beauties yield, Feed here my lambs, I'll seek po distant field.
Daph. Celestial Venus haunts Idalia's groves ; Diana Cynthus, Ceres Hybla loves : If Windsor-sliades delight the matchless maid, Cynthus and Hybla yield to Windsor-shade. Streph. All nature mourns, the skies relent in
show'rs, Hush'd are the birds, and clos'd the drooping flow'rs; If Delia smile the flowers begin to spring, The skies to brighten, and the birds to sing.
Daph. All nature laughs, the groves are fresh and The sun's mild lustre warms the vital air; [fair, If Sylvia smiles, new glories gild the shore, And vanquish'd nature seems to charm no more.
Streph. In spring the fields, in autunın 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.
Daph. 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 ber, '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,
Daph. Nay, tell me first, in what more happy
Dam. Cease to contend; for, Daphnis, I decree The bowl to Strephon, and the lamb to thee. Bless'd swains, whose nymplis in every grace excel; Bless'd nymphs, whose swains those graces sing so
well! Now rise, and haste to yonder woodbine bow'rs, A soft retreat from sudden vernal show'rs; The turf with rural dainties shall be crown'd, While opening blooms diffuse their sweets around: For see! the gathering flocks to shelter tend, And from the Pleiads fruitful showers descend.
TO DR. GARTH.
A SHEPHERI's boy (he seeks no better name)
2 Alludes to the device of the Scots monarchs, the thistle, worn by Queen Anne; and to the arins of France, ibe fleur de lys. The two riddles are in imitation of those in Virg. Ecl. 3d.
The Naïads wept in every watry bow'r,
Accept, O Garth! the Muse's early lays;
Ye shady beeches, and ye cooling streams, Defence from Phæbus', not from Cupid's beams, To you I mourn; nor to the deaf I sing, The woods shall answer, and their echo ring. The bills 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. The sultry Sirius burps the thirsty plaiņs, 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 wliere 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 watry glass; But since those graces please thy eyes no more, I shup 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 tlıy 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
The captive bird that sings within thy bow'r!
And yet my numbers please the rural throng,
See what delights in silvan scenes appear!