Juvenilia or, A collection of poems. Written between the ages of twelve and seventeen, by J. H. L. Hunt ... Fourth Edition |
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PASTORAL I.
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| II. |
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| IV. |
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 | Juvenilia |  |
PASTORAL I.
[------ Arcades ambo]
Season, Spring.—Time, Morning.ADDRESSED TO GEORGE, EARL OF GUILFORD.
------ Arcades ambo
Et cantare pares, et respondere parati.
Virg. Æclog, vii. v. 4.
Et cantare pares, et respondere parati.
Virg. Æclog, vii. v. 4.
In fair Oxonia first, with vernal flow'rs,
I crown the Muse that cheers my peaceful hours;
Mild Isis, echo to the rural song,
That humbly skims thy silver stream along;
Ye willows, quiv'ring o'er your waters play,
And nod soft plaudits to the whisp'ring lay.
I crown the Muse that cheers my peaceful hours;
Mild Isis, echo to the rural song,
That humbly skims thy silver stream along;
Ye willows, quiv'ring o'er your waters play,
And nod soft plaudits to the whisp'ring lay.
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Offspring of him, belov'd of Heav'n, who join'd
The noblest wisdom with the purest mind,
Attend the verse; nor those, thy peers among,
Who on thy patriot voice so oft have hung,
Disdain these early numbers to receive,
That in the sunshine of thy smiles would live.
So round the gen'rous oak the mazy vine
Loves, in gay wreaths, his infant leaves to twine;
Yet blushes, as it pays admiring court,
And purples grateful o'er its high support.
The noblest wisdom with the purest mind,
Attend the verse; nor those, thy peers among,
Who on thy patriot voice so oft have hung,
Disdain these early numbers to receive,
That in the sunshine of thy smiles would live.
So round the gen'rous oak the mazy vine
Loves, in gay wreaths, his infant leaves to twine;
Yet blushes, as it pays admiring court,
And purples grateful o'er its high support.
Fair Morn yet linger'd in the op'ning east,
And careless tints on distant mountains cast;
When three young Shepherds, o'er the spreading lawn,
With early warblings hail'd the smiling dawn;
Till, as they pour'd their gather'd flocks along,
Thus gentle Hylas stopp'd the flowing song:
HYLAS.And careless tints on distant mountains cast;
When three young Shepherds, o'er the spreading lawn,
With early warblings hail'd the smiling dawn;
Till, as they pour'd their gather'd flocks along,
Thus gentle Hylas stopp'd the flowing song:
Lov'd Swains, the fav'rites of the rural Muse,
See waking morn her purple rays diffuse;
Smooth Isis' streams reflected splendor yield,
And gay, green Spring, enrobes the circling field:
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Let songs, alternate, swell the cooling air;
While in yon waving Elm's embow'ring shade,
In decent shew the rural feast be laid.
Damon, begin; your gentle reed inspire;
Then, Thyrsis, answer with Apollo's fire.
DAMON.
What say you, Thyrsis? I, unskilful swain,
Tune the mean pipe along the distant plain;
And stake this crook, with iv'ry head, as fair
As Delia's neck, or Daphne's flaxen hair.
THYRSIS.
And I this horn which first my grand-sire found,
And thro' the hollow pour'd the length'ning sound;
A ring of gold enclasps the graceful curve,
His bright reward whose songs the prize deserve.
DAMON.
Fair blooming youth, O leave Idalia's grove,
Thy feasts ambrosial, and thy Psyche's love;
Glow thro' the verse, and smooth the rustic lays
That seek no theme, but thine eternal praise.
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Melodious Phœbus, all my mind inspire
With Hayley's air, or Southey's kindling fire;
That not unequal to the task may prove
Of singing Delia's charms, and Delia's love.
DAMON.
Me laughing Daphne softly lurks behind,
Pelts the smooth plum, then trips along the wind;
Yet, while the bush conceals with sweet briar green,
She laughs aloud, and wishes to be seen.
THYRSIS.
While lovely Delia leads the floating dance,
At each quick step she darts the side-long glance;
While, winking round, in ev'ry soft retreat,
How much her eyes belie her sporting feet.
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Sweet May is faithful to the honey'd flow'rs,
March to the winds, and April to the show'rs;
Yet still more constant, while her Damon's here,
Is charming Daphne all the varied year.
THYRSIS.
Fair Morning loves to court the tepid breeze;
Mild Eve the cooler, Noon the shady trees;
Yet more than all, my Delia joys to play,
Where faithful Thyrsis leads his fllocks away.
DAMON.
The peaceful Olive sage Minerva bears,
Bacchus the Vine, the Myrtle Venus wears;
Yet while my Fair admires the vi'let blue,
The vine, sweet flow'r, and myrtle, yield to you.
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The hardy Oak is monarch of the plains,
O'er the soft stream the mournful Willow reigns;
If Delia love the Rose, with blushes gay,
The Oak and Willow shall the Rose obey.
DAMON.
When hoary Winter chains our fields in frost,
And lively Verdure in his snows is lost;
If Daphne smile, stern Winter frowns no more,
And greener verdure crowns the flow'ry shore.
THYRSIS.
When thirsty Sirius rages o'er the fields,
And fainting Nature to the tyrant yields;
In Delia's presence, her enliv'ning eye
Sparkles with life, and splendor paints the sky.
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If in some distant grove my Daphne roam,
Far from her shepherd's flock and native home;
Hush'd are the birds, the sorrowing flow'rs droop low;
And the dull streams in languid silence flow.
THYRSIS.
If cruel Delia from her Thyrsis hide,
By yon dark elm, or Thames sedge-mantled side;
In vain bright Titan gilds the burnish'd plains;
He soothes the least who smiles upon our pains.
DAMON.
Ah, yield thee, Thyrsis; or with promptness tell,
What sweet is that from show'ring Heav'n that fell;
Unfold the riddle, and the crook is thine,
To curb the goats that crop the early vine.
THYRSIS.
Yet boast not Damon; first that flow'r declare,
That joins a metal with a virgin fair;
Then his loud horn shall conquer'd Thyrsis yield,
And all the praises of the wond'ring field.
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Equal in wit, and in the flowing rhyme,
In years tho' greener than the youthful lime.
Admir'd by Phœbus, and by Love caress'd,
Who can discern the youth, who sings the best?
Blest in unrivall'd Friendship, still maintain
Th' admiring plaudit of each humbler swain;
While to thee, Damon, this transparent horn,
That clear reflects the purple tints of Morn,
Glad, I adjudge; and, Thyrsis, to thy care,
Commit this crook with mounting iv'ry fair.
But haste away; the sweet repast is laid,
Inviting Hunger in the rural shade:
Put up your pipes; the birds your notes prolong;
Let them take up the warb'ling of the song.
| Juvenilia | |