Then might my voice thy liftning 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 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 fairert flow'rs design, 55
And in one garland all their beauties join;
Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,
In whom all beauties are compriz'd in one,

See what delights in sylvan scenes appear !
Descending Gods have found Elyfium here. 60
In woods bright Venus with Adonis stray'd,
And chalte Diana haunts the forest shade.
Come, lovely nymph, and bless the filent hours,
When swains from sheering seek their nightly bowers ;
When weary reapers quit the fultry field,

65
And crown'd with corn their thanks to Ceres yield.,
This harmless grove no lurking vapour hides,
But in my breast the serpent Love abides.
Here bees from blossoms fip the rofy dew,
But your
Alexis knows no sweets but you.

70
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 fit, Mal) croud into a shade :
Where'er you tread, the blushing fow'rs 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!

IMITATIONS.

VER. 60. Descending Gods have found Elyfium bere.]

Habitarunt Dî quoque fylvas-Virg.
Et formosus oves ad flumina pavit Adonis. Idem,

Your praise the birds, shall chant in ev'ry grove,
And winds shall waft it to the pow'ss above.

80
But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' frain;
The wond'ring forels foon should dance again,
The moving mountains hear the pow'rful call,
And headlong streams hang lift'ning in their fall!

But see, the thepherds shun the noon-day heat, 85
The lowing herds to murm'ring brooks retreat,
To closer shades the panting flocks remove;
Ye gods! and is there no relief for Love?
But soon the fun with milder rays descends
To the cool ocean, where his journey ends : 90
On me Love's fiercer flames for ever prey,
By night he scorches, as he burns by day.

VARIATIONS. VER. 79, 80.

Your praise the tuneful birds to heav'n fhall bear,

And lift’ning wolves grow milder as they hear. So the verses were originally wiitten : But the author, young af he was, suon found ihe absurdity whi Spenser himself cverlooke ed, of introducing wolves into England.

VER. 91. Me love infames, nor will his fires allay.

IMITATIONS.
VER. 80. And winds shall waft, etc.)
Partem aliquam, venti, divům referatis ad aures

Virg.
VIR. 88. Ye gods, etc.)

Me tamcn urit amor, quis enim modas adfit amori? Ident.

B!
ENEATH the shade a spreading beach displays,

Hylas and Ægon sung their rural lays:
This mourn'd' a faithless, that an abfent Love:
And Delia's name and Doris'i fill'd the Grove.
Ye Mantuan nymphs, your facred succour bring; 5
Hylas and Ægon's rural lays I fing.

Thou, whom the Nine with Plautus' wit inspire,
The art of Terence and Menander's fire;
Whose sense instructs us, and whofe honour charms,
Whose judgment sways us, and whole fpirit warms! 10
Oh, skill'd in Nature ! see the hearts of Swains,
Their artless paflions, and their tender pains.

This Pastoral confifts of two parts, like the eighth of Virgil; The Scene, a Hill; the Time at Sun-fet.

VER. 7. Thou, whom the Nine) Mr. Wycherley, a famous Author of Comedies ; of which the most celebrated were the PlainDealer and Country-Wife. He was a writer of infinite fpirit, satire, and wit: The only objection made to him was that he had too much. However he was followed in the same way by Mr. Coogreve ; thopgh with a little more correctness,

15

Now setting Phæbus shone serenely bright,
And feecy clouds were freak d with purple light;
When tuneful Hylas with melodious moan,
Taught rocks to weep, and made the mountains groan.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away!
To Delia's ear the tender notes convey.
As fome fad Turtle his loft love deplores,
And with deep murmurs fills the founding fores ; 20
Thus, far from Delia, to the winds 1 mourn,
Alike unheard, uapity'd, and forlorn.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along ! For her, the feather'd quires neglect their song: For her, the limes their pleasing shades deny; 25 For her, the lilies hang their heads, and die. Ye flow'rs that droop, forsaken by the spring, Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to fing, Ye trees that fade when autumn heats remove, Say, is not absence death to those who love?

Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! Curs'd be the fields that cause my Delia's say ; Fade ev'ry blossom, wither ev'ry tree, Die ev'ry flow'r, and perish all, but she. What have I said? where'er my Delia fies, 35 Let spring attend, and sudden flow'rs arise ! Let op'ning roses'knotted oaks adorn, And liquid amber drop from ev'ry thorn.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along ! The birds shall cease to tune their ev'ning song,

40 The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move, And streams to murmur, ere I cease to love,

30

VER. 37

I MITATIONS.

Aurea dura
Mala ferant quercus ; narcisso florear alnus,
Pinguia corticibus fudent electra myricæ. Virg. Ecl, viii.

50

Not bubbling fountains to the thirsty swain,
Not balmy fleep to lab'rers faint with pain,
Not show'rs to larks, or sun-fhine to the bee, 45
Are half fo charming as thy sight to me.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away!
Come, Delia, come ; ab, why this long delay?
Thro' rocks and caves the name of Delia sounds,
Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds.
Ye pow'rs, what pleasing frenzy footbs 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 Ægon lung, while Windsor groves admir'd; 55 Rehearse, ye Muses, what yourselves inspir'd.

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful train ! Of perjur'd Doris, dying I complain : Here where the mountains, less'ning as they rise, Lose the low vales, and steal into the kies; 60 While lab'ring oxen, spent with toil and heat, In their loose traces from the field retreat: While curling smoaks from village-tops are seen, · And the feet shades glide o’er the dusky green,

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay! 65 Beneath yon' poplar oft we past the day : Oft on the rind I cary'd her am'rous vows, While she with garlands hung the bending boughs: