University of Virginia Library

Sylvia , the pride of all the rural train,
By Celadon was lov'd, but lov'd in vain.
His graceful form by nature seem'd design'd
To charm the nicest of the beauteous kind.
With vain Narcissus in his blooming pride,
Or Hyacinth, the shepherd might have vy'd.
He danc'd—not Paris with a nobler mien,
On Xanthus' borders trac'd the level green.
Tuneful his voice—but Phoebus lov'd in vain,
Nor met success with his immortal strain:
More wild than Daphne, o'er the flow'ry mead,
Coy Sylvia her entreating lover fled.
Nor could his melting numbers once prevail
To gain attention to his am'rous tale;
Till mov'd with pity for his restless care,
Her fellow nymphs detain the flying fair;
Entreated half, and half compell'd her stay;
Beneath a shade that skreen'd the burning ray
They sit; their bleating flocks around them stray:
While thus th' unhappy youth, in mournful strains,
Of his ungrateful shepherdess complains.

Returning springs the faded year renew,
And summer gales the wintry storms ensue;
But no vicissitude of joy I prove,
No change of season to my hopeless love.
The falling sun in western shades declines,
Refresh'd again the purple morning shines;
But no kind smiles with dawning rays appear
In Sylvia's eyes, my gloomy breast to chear.

The silver moon wheels her pale course above,
And midnight stars in solemn order move,
Envy it self, and faction find repose;
While no relief my wilder passion knows:
Or if disorder'd slumbers close mine eyes,
Coy Sylvia still before my fancy flies;
Thro' dusky groves and vales I seem to trace
Her fleeting form, that mocks my fond embrace;
I wake to new despair, and tell my pain
To whisp'ring winds and sounding rocks in vain:
Yet these, relentless fair, more kind than thee,
In sighing echoes seem to plead for me.
Gay nature now to gentler thoughts invites,
And the fair season calls for soft delights;
The vig'rous sun smiles on the fruitful earth,
And gives a thousand beauteous flow'rs their birth;
The conscious trees their verdant branches spread,
Inviting lovers to their friendly shade:
These scenes were made for love; each whisp'ring stream,
And painted vale require the tender theme.
Love triumphs here, and on the peaceful plains
The gentle god his empire still maintains;
The busy city's restless noise he shuns,
And far from factious courts affrighted runs;
Hither his quiver, and his torch he brings,
And hov'ring round the air with downy wings,
Among the swains his sportive darts he flings.
Th' immortal race oft seek the calm retreats,
And for their pleasures chuse the rural seats.
In the Sabæan groves, and Cyprian bow'rs
The queen of beauty spent her softest hours:
The fair Aurora too, a nymph divine,
With rosy cheeks, and sparkling eyes like thine,
But gentler far; on Hœmus' dewy head
Pursu'd a youth, who her embraces fled.
Diana's self, thy boasted goddess, lov'd,
Nor still like thee inflexible has prov'd:
Mæander's winding banks, and Lycus' shore
Have heard her oft her rig'rous fate deplore;
The Carian hills were witness to her grief,
There wand'ring round, she vainly sought relief;
Nor roves a savage huntress as before,
Her hand a pointed jav'lin shakes no more,
While thro' the woods she tracks the foaming boar.
To diff'rent cares her thoughts were now confin'd,
Endymion's image had possest her mind.
On Latmos' top the lovely youth she found,
Gently reclin'd upon the verdant ground,
His senses all in balmy slumbers drown'd.
Not young Adonis ever look'd more fair;
An am'rous breeze plays with his careless hair:
The virgin goddess fix'd her wond'ring sight;
Above her own transparent orb roll'd bright,
And all the stars lent their officious light.
She views his blooming charms with fond surprize,
Unusual transports in her bosom rise;
An unaccustom'd wish her breast inspires,
And now she checks, now sooths her wild desires,
Approaches softly now, and now retires:
At last resolv'd, a modest kiss she steals,
While Venus laughing, all the theft reveals.

Thus gods and men to Love's imperial sway
Submit, and his resistless laws obey:
And trust me, Sylvia, some propitious hour
Shall yet arrive, when thou shalt feel his pow'r.

The shepherd ceas'd, the nymphs his numbers praise;
Ev'n Sylvia, soften'd by his melting lays,
Returns a smile; then with a decent pride
Retires, and strives her alter'd thoughts to hide.