Juvenilia :: :: University of Virginia Library

DAPHNIS.
Not the smooth streamlets that with rippling tide
In murm'rings mild the chrystal pebbles chide;
Not summer-airs that fan the rustling grove,
Or the warm whispers of enraptur'd Love;
Not Pan himself can so beguile mine ear,
As when Amyntas' gentle reed I hear;
But, ah! his sweet celestial strains are gone,
And rich Elysium claims her tuneful son!

MŒRIS.
See solemn Night begins her dreary reign,
And Winter bleaches o'er the icy plain;
Pale Luna sleeps behind the dark'ning cloud,
And Nature lies beneath her frozen shroud:
So drear to me is Rapture's dancing ray,
So cold to Mœris Pleasure's warmest day;
So darken'd, Youth's bright sunshine, now no more,
So frozen Health, whose blushes glow'd before;
For, ah! with thee I weep our Shepherd's death,
And raptur'd Harmony's forgotten breath!

DAPHNIS.
As the tall Poplar waves above the reed,
Or Windsor groves rise graceful o'er the mead;
As lovely Roses blush upon the thorn,
Or flow'ry Buds the tangled hedge adorn;
Thus lov'd Amyntas rivall'd every swain;
Thus with his warblings grac'd the ravish'd plain;
Thus bow'd each Shepherd to his mellow flute,
Till Verse, Amyntas, and Delight were mute!
Mourn, mourn, ye horrors of the frozen year,
And melt in tears of anguish o'er his bier!

MŒRIS.
Yon aged tree, where once his sculptur'd name
Would Admiration's passing tribute claim,
The envious snows in clus'tring heaps conceal,
And graven boughs no more the charm reveal;
Beneath the frost of Death's relentless hand
Thus dies the Muse, thus leaves a weeping land;
Thus fades the landscape from our straining sight,
Where soaring Rapture wing'd her visions bright;
Where Fancy planted gay her colour'd goal,
And magic Melody enchain'd the soul!
For, ah! Amyntas droops his gentle head,
And Rapture, Fancy, Melody, are fled!

DAPHNIS.
Chain'd is the music of the purling spring,
And stiff the tender turtle's useless wing;
So fast in Death the fetter'd Muses lie,
So fixt our tuneful Swain's enliven'd eye!
And, ah! no more shall Summer's glowing reign
Restore his numbers to their native plain;
No more light Autumn wake to visions gay
Those eyes, cold hidden from the light of day;
Though melting Spring again shall soothe the grove,
And pliant pinions oar the sailing dove!

Weep, Mœris, weep! Amyntas charms no more;
And Pan chants vainly o'er the desart shore!

MŒRIS.

Ah down these cheeks full oft the tearful stream
Steals in the day, and dews the nightly dream;
Full oft Remembrance thorns within my breast,
And Meditation lures me from my rest!
O'er this cold grave that decks the snowy way
With old o'er-waving cypress sadly gay,
O'er this cold grave pale vigils will I keep,
And bid the wand'ring pilgrim pause and weep;
While thus the sorrow, by his sighs betray'd,
Shall soothe in pensive lay the list'ning Shade:—

“Thee, sweet departed Warbler of the plain,
“Who charm'd so oft lorn Echo's mournful reign;
“Thee, when green Spring her verdant mantle weaves,
“And laughing Summer crowns her head with leaves;
“Thee, when bright Autumn paints the golden land,
“And hoary Winter waves his icy hand;
“Thee shall Remembrance fancy in her way,
“Chanting with tuneful reed thy placid lay;
“And, with her wonted rapture wildly warm,
“Present the laurel to th' ideal form;
“Thee shall Affection mourn, along thy bier
“Mingling with silent grief the bursting tear;

“Thee Honour, acting in his noblest part,
“Hold in each eye, and grave within each heart;
“Till Spring no more, or Summer's sparkling eye,
“Or yellow Autumn beam along the sky;
“Till hoary Winter loose his icy chain,
“And Joy, immortal as thy numbers, reign!”