University of Virginia Library

A Pastoral.

Upon the B. Virgin gon from Nazareth to visit Elizabeth. Wherein the sadness of the Country Nazareth is described during the absence of the Virgin.

The speakers are Asor, Alphæus and Zebede.
Asor.
And why Alphæus, in this sweet shade dost thou
Make songs, which are not seasonable now,
Since we of fair Parthenia are bereft!
Parthenia has our fields and mountains left.

Alph.
Ay something 'twas my Pipe was t'other day
So strangely out of tune, and in so hoarse a Key.

Zeb.
And I too this misfortune might have known
By some late signs, had my thoughts been my own.
My little Goats as I to Pasture led
When the grass rises from its dewy bed.
I wonder'd why the new born flowers hung down
Their languid heads, as if scorch'd by the Sun.
The Lilly and the Rose to droop were seen,
And so did the immortal Evergreen,
Parthenia (alas) was gone—
For thee sweet Maid Lilly and Rose did grieve
The Evergreen thy absence did perceive.

Asor.
There grows a shady Elm in our yon grove
Where Philomel wou'd constantly repair,
Sweet Philomel of all the Joy and Love
And with melodious Accents fill the air.
When Parthenis was here, this shady tree
Was never, never from her Music free.
But now divine Parthenia is gone.
Silent and sad she wanders up and down
And among thorns and lonely hedges makes her moan.

Alph.
Whil'st thou fair Nymph didst blest us with thy stay
Each grove was sprightly, every wood was gay.
The boughs with birds, the caves with Swains did ring,
And the shril grashopper about the field did sing.
But now each wood is silent as the grave,
Nor does the Shepherd whistle in his cave,
Nor does the Bird sit Chirping on the bough,
Nor is the grashopper to be heard now.

Zeb.
The Fields with living Springs were fruitful made,
And every Spring had his refreshing shade.
Sweet flowers to the Bees were ne're deny'd,
The Fold with grass was constantly supplied.
Now Parthenis is gone th' industrious Bee
Can't flowers procure with all his industry,
The Folds want grass, the Fields their living Springs,
Nor have the Fountains now their shady coverings.
Divine Parthenia! with thee we've lost
All the delights our Rural life could boast.

Asor.
My little Goats were boldly wont to go
And climbe the desert hills, my Sheep would do so too,
Then happy Sheep, the Wolf the Fold did spare,
The Heat the infant trees, the Rain the ripen'd ear.

Alph.
Thou now perhaps sweet Nymph art trave'ling o're
Some Craggie hills, unknown to thee before,
Whilest we sit here among the shady trees,
And swallow down each Cool refreshing breese.

Zeb.
Say you sweet Western blasts that gently blow
And you fair Rivers that as swiftly flow,
You who so often have been vocal made
By Swains that pipe and sing under the shade;
Say, now while Phœbus holds the middle Skie
Under what Rock does sweet Parthenia ly?
Or through what Coasts may I her wandrings trace?
Or in what fountain sees she now her lovely face?
Ah! tho our way of life be plain and course
Yet don't thou like thy Country e're the worse
Since 't 'as thy happy Parent been and Nurse.

Asor.
Ah! where's that sweet retreat can thee detain
If thou thy native Country dost disdain?
Here are pure springs, and o're the springs are bowers,
Fine woods and fruit-trees, and a world of flowers.

Alph.
But why fair Nymph would'st thou be absent now,
When the sweet Strawberry raises up his head
Like Morning Sun all delicately red,
And Odorous blossoms spring from every bough?

Zeb.
Don't you my Sheep that yonder bank come near
'Tis to Parthenia sacred all that's there,
Nor wou'd the grass be touch'd by any but by Her.

Asor.
Before fierce Boreas blow with's boisterous mouth,
Or rainy weather come on from the South
Besure Parthenia to return again
Lest by the Cold thou suffer or the rain.

Alph.
In a choice Garden is reserv'd for thee
Sweet Marjoram, and a large Myrtle tree;
Myrtles thou always lov'st, come then if now
Thou still lov'st flowers as thou wert wont to do.

Zeb.
Ripe apples now hang dangling on the tree
Ready to drop, and only stay for thee.
The Fig of thy delay too does complain
The tender Fig, but let them both remain
'Till thou to thy dear Nazareth return again.

Asor.
Return sweet Nymph, and with thee thou shalt bring
All the delights and beauties of the Spring.
Fresh grass again shall on the mountains grow,
The Rivers shall with milk and nectar flow.
The Woods shall put on their green Livery,
And Nature in her pomp shall wait on thee.
The Country Swains shall Flowers and Presents bring,
And I a Violet garland for my Offering.
With me shall Azarias come along
Who with a smooth-wrought Pipe shall play the Song,
The Song that Israel's shepherd as he stood
By Jordan's bank, play'd to the listning Flood.

Alph.
But if thou longer should'st our hopes deceive,
With Rushes I'le a basket for thee weave;
Here thy own Nazareth I'le represent,
How all things here thy absence do lament;
The little Goats thou wandring here shalt see
Mournful and sad, and all for want of thee.
The Rivers which before flow'd swift and clear
As glad the Image of thy face to bear,
Shall move benum'd and slow, whilest on each hand
Appears the thirsty and forsaken sand.
The Corn shall droop and languish in the field,
The Meadows no fresh grass or herb shall yield,
The Fir-tree which with stately pride before
Her curious shady locks towards heaven spread
Shall now with down-cast boughs, and pensive head
Thy absence mourn and thy return implore.
Thou round about shalt all things weeping see,
If tears in rush-work may decipher'd be.

Zeb.
Preserve ye Powers, if you don't us disdain,
The Nymph, whilest she runs panting o're the plain.
And while she's absent since she once had love
For these our fields, take care ye powers above
That neither rivers do their banks o'reflow
Nor Storms the pastures spoil, or ripen'd corn o'rethrow.

Asor.
From night-fires let our stalls (sweet Nymph) be free
Defend from heat the Rose, from cold the Myrtle-tree,
While Rose and Myrtle are belov'd by thee.
That if you chance to cast a longing eye
Back on these fields, now naked and forlorn,
We may have still some flowers left to supply
Garlands t' express our Joy, and Dresses you t' adorn.

Alph.
Haste not, if through rough ways thy journy lye,
Haste not, the Heat will prove an injury.
Let not the Sun thy brighter Beauties spoil:
Ah! why wilt thou undo thy self with too much toil?
Take pleasing shelter in some gentle shade
'Till the day slacken, and the heat b' allay'd.

Zeb.
Parthenia why dost thou our hopes prolong?
Perhaps too some ill Pipe, and worser Song
Now grate thy ears, whil'st thy poor country Swain
On the deaf winds bestows sweet lays in vain.
Hang there my Pipe till she return, and be
A silent Monument of my Misery.
For what are songs or mirth without her Company?

Azor.
Our hills shall mourn while distant coasts you bless
Anamis shall not dance nor Sabaris.
The fields, the naked fields no songs shall know,
And Brooks their discontent by murmuring streams shall shew.
Thus did the Swains the absent Nymph lament,
The neighbouring woods to Heav'n the doleful Accents sent.