The Poetical Works of the Revd. Mr. Colvill Containing his Pastorals, Occasional Poems, and Elegies on Illustrious persons. Vol. I & II |
 | 1. |
|
| 1. | PASTORAL FIRST.
|
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
 |
|
| 2. |
 | The Poetical Works of the Revd. Mr. Colvill |  |
3
PASTORAL FIRST.
Inscribed to the Albion Fair.
------ Nunc scio quid sit amor.
Virg.
Virg.
By flow'ry banks of Tweed, whose waters glide
Thro' famous valleys, crown'd with rural pride,
Young Colin led his flock, as summer gay,
And healthful as the bounteous gift of May.
Yet mourn'd the swain; for, pierc'd by sad despair,
The slave of love, and its consuming care,
Along the willow-fringed banks he stray'd,
While sighs the anguish of his heart betray'd:
Hung o'er the flood a shady poplar grew,
This as he lean'd, the falling tears bedew;
On this he gaz'd, and while his sorrows flow'd,
Warm kisses on the letter'd rind bestow'd.
Thro' famous valleys, crown'd with rural pride,
Young Colin led his flock, as summer gay,
And healthful as the bounteous gift of May.
Yet mourn'd the swain; for, pierc'd by sad despair,
The slave of love, and its consuming care,
Along the willow-fringed banks he stray'd,
While sighs the anguish of his heart betray'd:
Hung o'er the flood a shady poplar grew,
This as he lean'd, the falling tears bedew;
On this he gaz'd, and while his sorrows flow'd,
Warm kisses on the letter'd rind bestow'd.
Fair Albion Dames! to whose love-darting eyes
The vanquish'd world resigns bright Beauty's prize;
By Love inspir'd, I sing his tender strains;
My tale of love the cruel fair disdains:
Tho' the cold maid my numbers fail'd to move,
In vain I sing not while your smiles approve;
Accept my verse, the fav'rite page shall shine,
And sacred myrtle round my temples twine.
The vanquish'd world resigns bright Beauty's prize;
By Love inspir'd, I sing his tender strains;
My tale of love the cruel fair disdains:
4
In vain I sing not while your smiles approve;
Accept my verse, the fav'rite page shall shine,
And sacred myrtle round my temples twine.
Ye woodland scenes! where vainly I retire,
Defence from Phœbus', not from Cupid's fire;
Ye shady beeches! listen to my strain,
Inspir'd by Delia, and her proud disdain;
Sad Colin, doom'd her cruel scorn to prove,
To you, ye rocks! declares his hopeless love.
Cold hearted maid! for thee, in early bloom,
I waste, neglected, and in tears consume;
In peace retir'd, my happier days were spent
In harmless pleasure, and in calm content.
On balmy wings each smiling summer came,
And found me careless by the cooling stream:
When gloomy winter vex'd the troubl'd air,
Safe from his storms I watch'd my fleecy care:
At village feasts, amid the rural throng,
I rul'd the dance, and rais'd the simple song;
Or drove my flock to pasture o'er the lee,
Happy from love and wild ambition free.
Defence from Phœbus', not from Cupid's fire;
Ye shady beeches! listen to my strain,
Inspir'd by Delia, and her proud disdain;
Sad Colin, doom'd her cruel scorn to prove,
To you, ye rocks! declares his hopeless love.
Cold hearted maid! for thee, in early bloom,
I waste, neglected, and in tears consume;
In peace retir'd, my happier days were spent
In harmless pleasure, and in calm content.
On balmy wings each smiling summer came,
And found me careless by the cooling stream:
When gloomy winter vex'd the troubl'd air,
Safe from his storms I watch'd my fleecy care:
At village feasts, amid the rural throng,
I rul'd the dance, and rais'd the simple song;
Or drove my flock to pasture o'er the lee,
Happy from love and wild ambition free.
All conqu'ring love! I feel thy tyrant reign,
Inspir'd by thee, I burn and waste in vain:
Ye gods! what magic can our hearts secure,
What art can shield us from thy mighty pow'r!
The fiercest souls thy matchless force can move,
And gods themselves have felt all conqu'ring love.
Too well thy nature and thy pow'r I know,
Now hapless left to unremitting woe.
No more from harmony I hope for ease,
Nor flow'ry lawns, nor sunny fields, can please;
All nature's beauty yields no joy to me,
For nature saddens, since despis'd by thee.
Inspir'd by thee, I burn and waste in vain:
Ye gods! what magic can our hearts secure,
What art can shield us from thy mighty pow'r!
The fiercest souls thy matchless force can move,
And gods themselves have felt all conqu'ring love.
5
Now hapless left to unremitting woe.
No more from harmony I hope for ease,
Nor flow'ry lawns, nor sunny fields, can please;
All nature's beauty yields no joy to me,
For nature saddens, since despis'd by thee.
The breath of mildew kills the vernal bloom;
With dire disease the harmless flocks consume;
Chill winter blasts the glory of the year,
Thy scorn, O Delia! is the plague I fear.
Sweet are soft slumbers on the verdant plain;
Sweet cooling fountains to the thirsty swain;
Sweet gentle sunshine, or descending show'rs,
To fervent bees, or to the drooping flow'rs;
Thou, Delia, all my hope, and, without thee,
What's joy, or sun, or life itself, to me!
With dire disease the harmless flocks consume;
Chill winter blasts the glory of the year,
Thy scorn, O Delia! is the plague I fear.
Sweet are soft slumbers on the verdant plain;
Sweet cooling fountains to the thirsty swain;
Sweet gentle sunshine, or descending show'rs,
To fervent bees, or to the drooping flow'rs;
Thou, Delia, all my hope, and, without thee,
What's joy, or sun, or life itself, to me!
Come, lovely nymph! thy cruel scorn resign;
Come, lovely nymph! and feed thy flocks with mine.
Happy with thee, thro' flow'ry fields I'll stray,
Or waste, in pleasing toils, the summer's day;
Your snowy flock to freshest pasture lead,
Or by the breezy shore, or verdant mead
Irriguous, where the purple vi'lets glow,
The strawb'ries ripen, and the roses blow;
There, soft reclin'd, and banish'd ev'ry care,
I'll sing, or wreath with flow'rs thy beauteous hair.
Come, lovely nymph! and feed thy flocks with mine.
Happy with thee, thro' flow'ry fields I'll stray,
Or waste, in pleasing toils, the summer's day;
Your snowy flock to freshest pasture lead,
Or by the breezy shore, or verdant mead
Irriguous, where the purple vi'lets glow,
The strawb'ries ripen, and the roses blow;
There, soft reclin'd, and banish'd ev'ry care,
I'll sing, or wreath with flow'rs thy beauteous hair.
6
Now all around me breathes the blushing year,
Prideful the trees their flourish'd branches rear;
From fragrant blooms the grateful odours rise,
And hopeful harvest glads the shepherd's eyes;
All nature smiles, the hill, the flow'ry plain,
Love, only love, no kind return can gain.
Prideful the trees their flourish'd branches rear;
From fragrant blooms the grateful odours rise,
And hopeful harvest glads the shepherd's eyes;
All nature smiles, the hill, the flow'ry plain,
Love, only love, no kind return can gain.
Come, charming maid! for thee my bow'r is crown'd
With roses, balmy woodbine breathes around;
O'er the green turf my spotless wool is cast,
And choicest fruits afford a rich repast:
Besides, while rival nymphs my favour woo
With gifts, their gifts are all reserv'd for you:
Ev'n blooming maids have su'd my love to gain,
And am'rous nymphs prefer their gifts in vain;
With me their charms no kind acceptance boast,
In thine alone all other charms are lost.
With roses, balmy woodbine breathes around;
O'er the green turf my spotless wool is cast,
And choicest fruits afford a rich repast:
Besides, while rival nymphs my favour woo
With gifts, their gifts are all reserv'd for you:
Ev'n blooming maids have su'd my love to gain,
And am'rous nymphs prefer their gifts in vain;
With me their charms no kind acceptance boast,
In thine alone all other charms are lost.
Nor of unseemly form, nor rustic mien,
As late I view'd me in the chrystal plain.
Let others boast the gay effeminate air,
The boyish wiles, which gain the trifling fair;
The manly feature, void of Lydian art,
Tho' brown with toil, will gain the worthier heart.
Ah! guileful spite, and faithless love, destroy
My blasted prime! which braves the joint annoy
Of storm inclement, and the scorching sun,
By woman's stern ingratitude undone!
Besides, the rural throng, my Doric lays,
Beneath the shade, in crouding circles, praise;
The wood nymphs fair, the village maidens bring
Their gifts, and round me dance in jocund ring;
And the harmonious sisterhood impart
Their magic pow'rs to melt the feeling heart.
Ah! wretch! the only nymph I sing to gain
Repays with scorn, and mocks the shepherd's strain.
The bleating sheep, the rugged rocks return
My wild complainings, and in pity mourn:
In vain I sing, while she disdains my lay,
Ah! heart insensate! and more hard than they.
As late I view'd me in the chrystal plain.
Let others boast the gay effeminate air,
The boyish wiles, which gain the trifling fair;
The manly feature, void of Lydian art,
Tho' brown with toil, will gain the worthier heart.
Ah! guileful spite, and faithless love, destroy
My blasted prime! which braves the joint annoy
Of storm inclement, and the scorching sun,
By woman's stern ingratitude undone!
Besides, the rural throng, my Doric lays,
Beneath the shade, in crouding circles, praise;
7
Their gifts, and round me dance in jocund ring;
And the harmonious sisterhood impart
Their magic pow'rs to melt the feeling heart.
Ah! wretch! the only nymph I sing to gain
Repays with scorn, and mocks the shepherd's strain.
The bleating sheep, the rugged rocks return
My wild complainings, and in pity mourn:
In vain I sing, while she disdains my lay,
Ah! heart insensate! and more hard than they.
I burn! I burn! as woodland shades consume,
Conceive destruction, and assist their doom.
O when wilt thou thy killing scorn forego;
When will thy breast an equal passion know?
Storms cease to bluster, and the seas to roar;
Even raging tempests give their fury o'er:
Would heav'n you too were mutable as these,
And could be soften'd like relenting seas;
But deaf, as rocks beat by the sounding main,
You frown unmov'd, regardless of my pain.
Conceive destruction, and assist their doom.
O when wilt thou thy killing scorn forego;
When will thy breast an equal passion know?
Storms cease to bluster, and the seas to roar;
Even raging tempests give their fury o'er:
Would heav'n you too were mutable as these,
And could be soften'd like relenting seas;
But deaf, as rocks beat by the sounding main,
You frown unmov'd, regardless of my pain.
Ye conscious echoes! vocal through the dale,
To Delia loud proclaim my mournful tale:
On all your wings, ye fanning zephyrs, bear,
And breathe my sorrows round the cruel fair:
Her virgin pride my tender verse shall move,
And soft compassion touch her soul with love.
Ah hapless swain! thy Delia is not kind,
But stern and ruthless as the winter wind,
She Colin and his profer'd love disdains,
And Colin vainly to the rocks complains.
No sigh nor tear her killing scorn disarms,
She claims thy life the victim of her charms.
To Delia loud proclaim my mournful tale:
On all your wings, ye fanning zephyrs, bear,
And breathe my sorrows round the cruel fair:
Her virgin pride my tender verse shall move,
And soft compassion touch her soul with love.
Ah hapless swain! thy Delia is not kind,
But stern and ruthless as the winter wind,
8
And Colin vainly to the rocks complains.
No sigh nor tear her killing scorn disarms,
She claims thy life the victim of her charms.
I go! I go! compell'd by proud disdain;
Kind death is near to rid me of my pain:
Where o'er the flood projects the rocky steep,
And hoarse below is roll'd the grumbling deep;
From its proud height my wretched weight I'll throw,
And rest in death from love's tormenting wo.
Adieu my flocks! adieu ye groves and plains!
Now cease ye woods, no more resound my strains.
Kind death is near to rid me of my pain:
Where o'er the flood projects the rocky steep,
And hoarse below is roll'd the grumbling deep;
From its proud height my wretched weight I'll throw,
And rest in death from love's tormenting wo.
Adieu my flocks! adieu ye groves and plains!
Now cease ye woods, no more resound my strains.
| The Poetical Works of the Revd. Mr. Colvill | |