University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The poetical and dramatic works of Sir Charles Sedley

Collected and Edited from the Old Editions: With a preface on the text, explanatory and textual notes, an appendix containing works of doubtful authenticity, and a bibliography: By V. de Sola Pinto

expand sectionI. 
collapse sectionII. 
VOL. II
expand section 


iii

II. VOL. II

[_]

Square brackets denote editorial insertions or emendations.


142

POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS ASCRIBED TO SEDLEY ON DOUBTFUL AUTHORITY

[_]

From Kemp's Collection, 1672.

XCIV
DISTICH

Although no Art the Fire of Love can tame,
'Tis oft extinguish't by an equal flame.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

XCV

[The painted Apples that adorn]

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

The painted Apples that adorn,
Of yon'd fair Tree, the Airy top,
And seems our dull approach to scorn,
From their weak Stalk must one day drop;
And out of reach of Mortals plac't,
Be the vile food of Worms at last;
Thus ends of Humane things the Pride,
Borne down Times ever-flowing Tide.
Thy matchless Beauty, that we all
Now with such heat and passion court,
Though kept from worthy Lovers, shall
Confess its Tyranny but short:
Then do not Love with Anger meet,
Nor cruel be, to seem discreet;
Shunning what nature does intend,
Things seldom meet a nobler end.

From Stephens's Miscellany Poems, 1685

XCVI
UPON THE SLIGHTING OF HIS FRIENDS LOVE

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Love guides my hand, and shews me what to write,
That (thou) mayst know 'tis she that doth Indite.
When Love's concern'd to make her language known,
She doth by Numbers soft, and sweet, bemoan
(Thy silence) enough to make her sigh and groan.
She fears that thy sweet Natur's wing'd away,

143

Because not touch'd, by its enlivening Ray:
She doubts some Veil has overspread its Light,
Which threatens more than an Aegyptian Night;
Wherein nought but sad mournful Clouds appear,
Enough to strike thee into endless fear.
When she on every side doth cast an Eye,
To see (perhaps) if once she might descry
Her pleasing, look'd for Object passing by.
There's nought appears, her Vigilance is vain;
Her careful Eye is recompenc'd with pain.
Then down she sinks, bereav'd of her sweet breath
The only sign, that now she's seiz'd with Death.
Weep now ye Heavens; and let each pearly tear
Accompany mounting grief, and trembling fear.
For since Love's dead, the Beauty of our Isle,
Its more than madness to attempt a smile;
This rather would become some pompous, nuptial train,
Than him, whose Heart feels griefs insulting pain.
When once a Jewel's lost, how careful is each Eye,
In prying out this Author of our misery?
No less is he depriv'd of courting rest
When Love has left a drooping, panting Breast.
Curs'd be that Person, who has chas'd thee hence,
Heaven, with this black crime, can ne're dispence!
Curs'd be that time, that e're she fix'd on thee,
The Mother of such unheard of Cruelty.
Curs'd be that place, in which she did impart
Her amorous smiles, her most alluring Art.
In fine a Curse all Curses else above
On her, that dar'd to stab our darling Love!
May never once Loves Charms attend thee more,
Till thou attones for what is done before.
What have I said! this, this, can never be
Done by the hands of basest Treachery.
No, no: we must the Gods above implore,
Who only can the dead, to life restore.
Be propitious then, ye ruling Pow'rs above,
And send us back our hence departed Love.
That we may see her raise a tow'ring frame
Adorn'd with lustre from her radiant flame
Too great to be exprest by empty name.
Bless us but in this, and then shall we
In reverence bow, a lowly thankful Knee,
Before the throne of your own sacred Deity.
Our words, like well tun'd Instruments shall be,
Breathing forth nought but grateful Harmony
Our Actions, they shall pay you Tribute, too,
For all is yours, when once we are blest by you.

144

From Poetical Recreations, 1688

XCVII
UPON A GENTLEWOMANS REFUSAL OF A LETTER FROM ONE SHE WAS INGAGED TO

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Not hear my Message, but the Bearer shun!
What hellish Fiend inrag'd could more have done?
Surely the Gods design to make my Fate
Of all most wretched, and unfortunate.
'Twas but a Letter, and the Words were few,
Fill'd with kind wishes, but my Fate's too true.
I'm lost for ever banish'd from her sight,
Although by Oaths and Vows she's mine by right.
Ye Gods! look down and hear my Sorrows moan,
Like the faint Echoes of a dying groan.
But now is't possible so fair a Face
Shou'd have a Soul so treacherous and base,
To promise constancy, and then to prove
False and unkind to him she vow'd to love?
Oh, Barb'rous Sex! whose Nature is to rook
And cheat Mankind with a betraying look.
Hence I'll keep guard within from all your Charms,
And ever more resist all fresh Alarms;
I'll trace your windings through the darkest Cell,
And find your Stratagems, though lodg'd in Hell.
Your gilded Paintings, and each treacherous Wile,
By which so eas'ly you Mankind beguile;
Winds are more Constant than a Womans Mind,
Who holds to none but to the present kind:
For when by absence th' object is remov'd,
The time is gone and spent wherein she lov'd.
And is it not the very same with me,
To slight my Love, when I must absent be?
Perhaps sh' has seen a more atracting Face,
And a new Paramour has taken place,
And shall my injur'd Soul stand Mute, and live,
Whilst that another reaps what she can give?
Glutted with pleasures, and again renew
Their past delights, although my claim and due.
Oh, no, my Soul's inrag'd, revenge calls on,
I'll tear her piece-meal e'er my fury's gone;
Stretch out my Arm all o'er th' inconstant stain,
And then cleave down her treach'rous limbs in twain:
The greatest plagues Invention e'er cou'd find,
Is not sufficient for th' inconstant Mind.
I think I have o'ercome my Passion quite,

145

And cou'd not love, although 'twere in despight.
As for the Man who must enjoy my room,
He'll soon be partner in my wretched doom;
He by her Faith, alas, no more will find,
Than when she swore to me to prove most kind.
Therefore I'll leave her and esteem her less;
And in my self both joy and acquiesce.
But oh, my Heart, there's something moves there still,
Sure 'tis the vigour of unbounded Will.
Too much, I fear, my Fetters are not gone,
Or I at least again must put them on.
Methinks I feel my Heart is not got free,
Nor all my Passions set at liberty,
From the bright glances of her am'rous Eye.
Down Rebel-love, and hide thy boyish Head,
I'm too much Man to hear thy follies plead:
Go seek some other Breast of lower note;
Go make some Old decrepit Cuckold dote:
Begone I say, or strait thy Quiver, Bow,
And thou thy self fall to destruction too.
And oh, I'm gone, my Foes have all got ground,
My Brains grow giddy, and my Head turns round.
My Heart's intangled with the Nets of Love;
My Passions rave, and now ye Gods above
Help on my doom, and heave me to your Skies;
Look, look, Mervinda's just before my Eyes:
Help me to catch her e'er her Shadow fly,
And I fall downward from this rowling Sky.

XCVIII
SONG

The Prodigal's Resolution

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

I am a lusty lively Lad,
Arriv'd at One-and-Twenty;
My Father left me all he had,
Both Gold and Silver plenty.
Now He's in Grave, I will be brave,
The Ladies shall adore me;
I'll Court and Kiss, what hurt's in this?
My Dad did so before me.

146

II

My Father, to get my Estate,
Though selfish, yet was slavish;
I'll spend it at another rate,
And be as leudly lavish.
From Mad-men, Fools, and Knaves he did,
Litigiously receive it;
If so he did, Justice forbid,
But I to such shou'd leave it.

III

Then I'll to Court, where Venus sport,
Doth revel it in plenty;
And deal with all, both great and small,
From twelve to five and twenty.
In Play-houses I'll spend my Days,
For there are store of Misses;
Ladies, make room, behold I come,
To purchase many Kisses.

XCIX
SONG

The Doubtfull Lover Resolv'd

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Fain wou'd I Love, but that I fear,
I quickly shou'd the Willow wear:
Fain wou'd I Marry, but Men say,
When Love is try'd, he will away.
Then tell me, Love, what I shall doe,
To cure these Fears whene'er I Wooe.
The Fair one, she's a mark to all;
The Brown one each doth lovely call;
The Black a Pearl in fair Mens Eyes,
The rest will stoop to any prize.
Then tell me, Love, what I shall doe,
To cure these Fears when e'er I Woe.

Reply

Go, Lover, know it is not I
That wound with fear or jealousie;
Nor do Men feel those [killing] smarts,
Untill they have confin'd their Hearts.
Then if you'll cure your Fears you shall
Love neither Fair, Black, Brown, but all.

147

C
SONG

The Cavalier's Catch

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

Did you see this Cup of Liquor,
How invitingly it looks;
'Twill make a Lawyer prattle quicker,
And a Scholar burn his Books:
'Twill make a Cripple for to Caper,
And a Dumb Man clearly Sing;
'Twill make a Coward draw his Rapier,
Here's a Health to James our King.

II

If that here be any Round-head,
That refuse this Health to pledge;
I wish he then may be confounded,
Underneath some rotten Hedge,
May the French Disease o'er-take him,
And upon his Face appear,
And his Wife a Cuckold make him,
By some Jovial Cavalier.

CI
SONG

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

Evadne, I must tell you so,
You are too cruel grown;
No smiles nor pity you bestow,
But Death in ev'ry frown.
My Love, though chast and constant too,
Yet no relief can find;
Curst be the Slave that's false to you,
Though you are still unkind.

II

Were you as merciful as fair,
My wishes wou'd obtain;
But love I must, though I despair,
And perish in the pain.

148

If in an Age I can prevail,
I happy then shall be;
And cou'd I live, I wou'd not fail
To wait Eternally.

From Buckingham's Miscellaneous Works, 1704

CII
THE ROYAL KNOTTER

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

Ah happy People ye must thrive
Whilst thus the Royal Pair does strive
Both to advance your Glory;
While he (by's Valour) conquers France,
She Manufacturers does advance,
And makes Thread-fringes for ye.

II

Bless'd we! who from such Queens are freed,
Who by vain Superstition led,
Are always telling Beads;
But here's a Queen, now, thanks to God,
Who, when she rides in Coach abroad,
Is always knotting Threads.

III

Then hast, victorious Nassau, hast,
And when thy Summer Show is past,
Let all thy Trumpets sound:
The Fringe which this Campain has wrought,
Tho' it cost the Nation scarce a Groat,
Thy Conquests will surround.

CIII
ADVICE TO LOVERS

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

Damon, if thou wilt believe me,
'Tis not Sighing round the Plain,
Songs and Sonnets cann't relieve thee,
Faint attempts in love are vain.

149

II

Urge but home the fair Occasion,
And be Master of the Field;
To a powerful kind invasion
'Tis a Madness not to yield.

III

Love gives out a large Commission,
Still indulgent to the brave;
But one Sin of large Omission,
Never Woman yet forgave,

IV

Though she swears she'll ne'er permit you,
Cries you're rude, and much to blame,
Or with Tears implores your Pity,
Be not merciful for shame.

V

When the fierce Assault is over,
Chloris soon enough must find
This her cruel furious Lover
Much more gentle, not so kind.

CIV
AGAINST HIS MISTRESS'S CRUELTY

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

Love, How unequal are thy Laws,
That Men that least endeavour
Thou favour'st, and neglect'st the Cause
Of those that most persever!

II

What careless Lovers have been blest,
Untouch'd with Grief and Anguish,
Since cruel Sylvia charm'd my Breast,
Unmov'd to see me languish!

III

I find my fatal Error now
In thinking e'er to move her,
Too great the Difficulty grew
For any mortal Lover.

150

IV

But what Advantage can it bring
That I at last perceive it?
'Twas rash to undertake the thing,
And 'tis too late to leave it.

CV
THE PETITION

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Oh Lycidas, why thus alone
With Arms a cross, dost sigh and moan?
Can thy Cosmelia prove unkind,
Or ought prevail to change her Mind?
She was, she is great Nature's Pride;
In Goodness, to the best ally'd
In her bright Eyes such Beauties Shine,
Mercy would make her all divine;
O ye propitious Powers above,
That gently do incline to love,
Convey into her Breast soft Fire,
Amorous Thoughts, and kind Desire.
But if it be decreed by Fate,
That I must love, and she must hate;
Ah! let her not Disdain to give
A Tear, when I no longer live.

From the Diverting Post, 1704

CVI
By Sir Charles Sidley. Written Extempore

[The Noble Man, why he's a thing]

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

The Noble Man, why he's a thing
Thats next in Honour to the King;
But if his Lordship's Knave or Fool,
At best he's but a Noble Tool,
Either to work with or be wrought on,
As odd a thing as can be thought on:
What signifies an empty Word,
His Grace, his Highness, or my Lord,
Saving your Presence, not a T---d.
'Tis Virtue stamps his Character,
And adds a lustre to his Star.

151

From Poems on State Affairs, 1705

CVII
A FABLE

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

In Aesop's Tales an honest Wretch we find,
Whose Years and Comforts equally declin'd;
He in two Wives had two domestick Ills,
For different Age they had and different Wills
One pluckt his Black Hairs out, and one his Grey,
The Man for quietness did both obey,
Till all his Parish saw his Head quite bare,
And thought he wanted Brains as well as Hair.

The Moral

The Parties hen-peckt W---m, are they Wives,
The Hairs they pluck are thy Prerogatives;
Tories thy Person hate, the Whigs thy Power,
Tho much thou yieldest, till they tug for more,
Till this poor Man, and thou, alike are shown,
He without Hair, and thou without a Crown.

From Briscoe's Edition of 1707

CVIII
ON THE HAPPY CORYDON AND PHILLIS

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Young Coridon and Phillis,
Sat in a lovely Grove,
Contriving Crowns of Lillies,
Repeating toys of Love,
And something else, but what I dare not name;
But as they were a playing,
She ogled so the Swain,
It sav'd her plainly saying,
Let's kiss to ease our pain, and something else.
A thousand times he kist her,
Laying her on the Green;
But as he further prest her
A pritty Leg was seen, and ------
So many Beauties viewing,
His Ardor still increast,
And greater Joys pursuing,
He wander'd o'er her Breast, and ------
A last effort she trying

152

His Passion to withstand,
Cry'd, but 'twas faintly Crying,
Pray take away your Hand, and ------
Young Corydon grown bolder,
The Minutes wou'd improve,
This is the time, he told her
To shew you how I Love, and ------
The Nymph seem'd almost dying,
Dissolv'd in amorous Heat,
She kiss'd, and told him sighing,
My Dear, your Love is great, and ------
But Phillis did recover,
Much sooner than the Swain,
She blushing ask'd her Lover,
Shall we not kiss again, and ------
Thus Love his Revells keeping,
Till Nature at a stand,
From talk they fell to sleeping,
Holding each other's Hand, and ------

CIX
ON A LADY THAT DID NOT LOVE APPLES

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Happy our Race; and blessed all Mankind,
Had but Eve's Palate been, like yours, refin'd,
Nor meanly stoop'd, while in her natures Pride,
To taste the poorest Fruit, that Heav'n deny'd.
But nought tempts Woman, more than a Restraint,
Access deny, and strait on that they're bent;
And had your Coyness, in her place been found,
The Devil had strove in vain to give the Wound.
Tho' cast his Serpents Skin, to be more fair,
Tho' dress'd like Beau, and courted with an Air,
For where Man fails, the Devil must sure dispair:
In vain, he'd strove your Virgin Heart to Storm,
We'd all been sav'd, had you her part perform'd.
But since long time will not that change allow,
Be but a second Eve, and save us now.

CX
ON FRUITION

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

None, but a Muse in Love, can tell
The sweet tumultuous joys I feel,
When on Cælia's Breast I lye,
When I tremble, faint, and dye;

153

Mingling Kisses with Embraces,
Darting Tongues, and joyning Faces,
Panting, stretching, sweating, cooing,
All in the extasie, of doing.

From Briscoe's Edition of 1722

CXI
TO CELINDA

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Celinda, think not by Disdain,
To vanquish my Desire
By telling me, I sigh in vain
And feed a hopeless Fire.
Despair it self too weak does prove,
Your Beauty to disarm,
By Fate I was ordain'd to Love,
As you were born to Charm.

CXII
A SONG

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Celinda
Prithee tell me, faithless Swain,
Why shou'd you such Passion feign,
On purpose to deceive me?
So soon as I to love began,
Then you began to leave me.

Damon
Celinda, you must blame your Fate,
Kindness has its certain Date,
E'er we the Joys have tasted,
Had you not then with feigned Hate
Love's kindest Hours wasted.
Then weep no more, nor sigh in vain,
But lay your Baits to catch again
A more deserving Lover;
For know, a Slave who's broke his Chain
You never can recover.


154

CXIII
CUPID'S RETURN

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Welcome, thrice welcome to my frozen Heart,
Thou long departed Fire,
How could'st thou so regardless be
Of one so true, so fond as me,
Whose early Thought, whose first Desire
Was pointed all to thee?
When in the Morning of my Day,
Thy Empire first began,
Pleased with the Prospect of thy Sway,
Into thy Arms I ran;
Without Reserve my willing Heart I gave;
Proud that I had my Freedom lost:
Contending which I ought to boast
The making thee a Sov'reign, or my self a Slave.
Still I am form'd to execute thy Will,
By me declare thy Power and Skill;
My Heart already by thy Fire
Is so prepar'd, is so refin'd,
There's nothing left behind
But infinite Desire.
O! would'st thou touch that lovely Maid,
(Whose Charms and thine I have obey'd)
With such another Flame,
The Heav'n that would appear in me,
Wou'd speak such Goodness dwelt in thee;
Thy Bow, thy Art,
No more need guide thy Dart;
No Art so stubborn but at that would aim.

155

THE PASTORALS OF VIRGIL


156

CXIV
THE FIRST PASTORAL [OF VIRGIL]

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

T[ity]rus Melibæus
Melibæus
You T[ity]rus! in the cool refreshing Shade
Of a broad Beach, thus negligently lay'd,
In your sweet Pipe and rural Muse delight.
We forc'd, alas! from our dear Country's fight
And pleasant Fields, in sad Distress to fly,
Are doom'd in woful Banishment to lie:
You undisturb'd here sing your am'rous Lays,
And make the Groves sound Amaryllis Praise.

Tityrus
This Leisure 'twas a God bestow'd: for he,
Oh Melibæus! shall be such to me;
Oft shall his Altar with Devotion due,
The streaming Blood of my young Lambs imbrue.
He suffer'd as you see my Herds to stray,
And will'd that on my Pipe, I shou'd securely play.

Melibæus
I envy not thy Case, but wonder much,
While of our Plains the sad Distraction's such;
See ailing thence, I my She-Goats convey.
This, Tityrus! I can hardly drag away,
Amid'st the Hazels, as I came along,
She yeaning unexpectedly two young;
(The Hope of my unhappy Flock) has left
On the hard Stone of ev'ry Help bereft.
This sad Mischance, was I not stupid grown!
My blasted Oaks had oftentimes made known,
And often from a hollow Holm the Crow
Did on the left the coming Mischief show:
But yet oh! Tityrus! I pray disclose
The God who this distinguish'd Favour shows.

Tityrus
The City they call Rome, as yet unknown,
I thought, oh Melibæus! like our own,
(Fool that I was) whither we us'd to go,
And oft the young-ones of our Flock bestow,
So Whelps I had perceiv'd, were like their Damms,

157

And like the Mother Ews, the tender Lambs:
So little Things I did compare with great,
But other Cities this excels in State,
Rising o'er all, as Cypresses exceed
The creeping Osier, or the binding Reed.

Melibæus
And what was the prevailing Cause that drew
Your mind this great aspiring Rome to view?

Tityrus
'Twas Liberty, which tho', it scarce appear'd,
When the grey Hairs were sprinkled in my Beard,
Long look'd-for kindly did arrive at last,
When Galatea's early Love was pass'd,
And Amaryllis did my Heart possess;
For dallying with the first, I must confess,
No hope of Liberty, nor Care had I
T' increase my Store, or gain a fit Supply,
To cure my Wants; tho' often of the best,
Pass'd from my Folds, and store of Cheese was press'd.
Unprofitably to the City sent,
For what I got, I there profusely spent.

Melibæus
Oh Amaryllis! little guess I had
For whom you pray'd, for whom you was so sad;
For what Occasion, for whose sake so long
Th' ungather'd Apples on their Branches hung.
Tityrus was hence; oh Tityrus! thy lov'd Name,
The Springs, the Pines, nay Bushes did proclaim.

Tityrus
What shou'd I do? what cou'd I hope to be
By other means from lasting Service free?
Nor cou'd I think to find another, where
A fav'ring God so ready to my Prayer!
Here Melibæus! I beheld him here,
The Youth for whom our Altars twice a Year
Shall smoke with Incense. He (when I address'd)
Kindly and soon, thus answer'd my Request.
Go Boy! be still on Rural Works imploy'd,
And hold whatever ye before enjoy'd.


158

Melibæus
Oh bless'd old Man! thy Lands shall then endure,
And all Possessions still to thee secure;
And large enough shall for thyself be found,
Tho' Stones and Reeds o'erspread the nearest Ground:
Thy Flocks from Beasts of Prey no harm shall find
Nor catch Infection from their neighbouring kind.
Oh fortunate old Man! who may abide
Thus sweetly by this noted River's side,
Here with Delight thy leisure Time employ,
And of these sacred Springs the cool enjoy.
Here from the bord'ring Hedge the passing Bees,
Thy Ears shall with continual Murmurs please,
Soft Sleep invite, and give thy Labours ease.
The Pruner from the lofty Mountain there,
With chearful Songs shall chace intruding Care:
Here thy lov'd Pidgeons shall delight thy view,
There on sweet Elms the Turtles sweetly coo.

Tityrus
Therefore the Stags shall mounting feed in Air,
And Occeans sinking, leave their Fishes bare
On the dry Sands, the Parthians from their home,
And hardy Germans shall be forc'd to roam,
And to each others Land in Exile come,
Before the Figure of this Youth depart,
And quit Possession of my grateful Heart.

Melibæus
But we must hence dispers'd and driven go
To sultry Africk, and to Scythia's Snow,
Part must with speed repair to spacious Crete,
And near the swift Oaxis take their Seat:
Part must on Britain's barb'rous Land be hurl'd,
Amongst a Race divided from the World:
Yet when a long unhappy Time is pass'd,
Oh! may I see my Country's Bounds at last,
And pleas'd, and wond'ring visit once again
My poor thatch'd Dwelling where I us'd to reign!
Shall a vile Soldier these neat Fields command?
This Harvest bless a wicked barb'rous Hand?
Oh fatal Strife! from thee what Sorrows flow?
From thee what Ills we wretched People know?
See who the Fruits of all our Toil possess,
Now graft thy Pears, fond Swain! thy Vineyards dress!
Hence ye She-goats! once prosp'rous and my Care,
Begone, henceforth stretch'd on the Grass, I ne'er
Shall see ye hanging on a Rock afar;

159

Henceforth no Verses shall I sing, nor more
Protect and feed ye as I did before.

Tityrus
With me this Night however chuse to stay,
Forgetting Care yourself reposing lay
On the green Leaf, and of our present Fare,
(Curds, Chessnuts, Apples) take a welcome Share,
For see the Village Tops begin to fume,
And vaster Shadows from the Mountains come.

CXV
THE SECOND PASTORAL [OF VIRGIL]

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

The fair Alexis was his Master's Joy,
And Coridon lov'd the delicious Boy,
But failing of his Hope, he daily go's
Where Beachen Boughs a constant Shade compose,
There to the Woods and Mountains thus alone,
Makes in imperfect Strains his fruitless Moan.
Cruel Alexis! must my Verse and I
Be thus disdain'd by thee? Ah! must I die,
Thro' thy Unkindness most unhappy made?
Now Cattle seek the cool refreshing Shade,
And Thestylis sweet Herbs do's mixing beat
For weary Mowers vext with Toil and Heat;
But while in eager Search of thee I run,
With me beneath the persecuting Sun,
The Grashoppers from ev'ry Bush bemoan
Their Case, and grate my Ears with a harsh Tone;
Had it not better been for me poor Swain
Of peevish Amaryllis to sustain
The direful Anger and the proud Disdain?
Better had I Menal[c]as made my Care?
Tho' swarthy he; tho' thou as Lillies fair!
Oh Youth! tho' bless'd with ev'ry blooming Grace,
Trust not too much to thy inticing Face.
White Blossoms from the Trees neglected fall,
The black uncomely Berry's sought by all.
Me you despise, Alexis! nor incline
To know what Choice and plenteous Stores are mine;
A thousand Lambs I call my own each Day,
That scatter'd o'er Sicilian Mountains stray;
Plenty of Milk in Summer fills my Pails,
Not even in the Winter-Season fails;
Nor sweet Amphion singing to his Herd,
Cou'd be for Voice before myself prefer'd.

160

Nor am I free from Grace, I lately stood,
And view'd my Image in the briny Flood,
When not a Breath of Wind disturb'd the Sea,
Not Daphnis in his Form surpasses me,
And him (thyself a Judge) I cannot fear,
If like ourselves, our Images appear.
Oh! that with me, you wou'd these Shades admire,
And to our humble Cottages retire,
Pursue the Harts, and to the verdant Boughs,
Consent to drive the wanton Goats to brouze;
To the delightful Groves confine your Will,
And strive with me to rival Pan in Skill.
Pan, first, the Shepherd's Pipe and Skill improv'd;
By Pan the Sheep and Shepherds are belov'd;
With the melodious Pipe thy Lip to gall,
Grudge not, fair Youth! nor think it harm at all:
What, that this pleasing Art he might have known,
Wou'd not Amyntas willingly have done?
A Pipe of seven unequal Reeds I have,
That me of old, Dametas dying gave;
Take this last Token of my Love, said he,
And prosp'rous may it ever prove to thee,
The Fool Amyntas did with Envy see.
Beside two Kids, I in a Valley found
Their Skins ev'n now with white are sprinkled round
A Yew's swoln Udders twice they daily drain,
And both for thee still carefully remain.
Yet Thestylis to gain them often try's,
And she at last may have the hop'd-for Prize,
Why shou'd she not, since you my Gifts despise?
Come hither fairest, dearest Youth! and see
The lovely Presents here in Store for thee;
Behold the courteous Nymphs in Baskets bring
The choicest Beauties of the blooming Spring,
For thy Delight, pale Lillies and the blue
Soft Violets; the bright Narcissus too,
To which they Heads of sleepy Poppies joyn,
And Leaves of the sweet smelling Anethine.
Then having nicely cull'd each chosen Flow'r,
With each most fragrant Herb they dress thy Bow'r:
I joyning too will here employ my Care,
And downy Peaches for thy Tast prepare;
To these I'll add Chessnuts the most approv'd,
Such as my beauteous Amaryllis lov'd,

161

And waxen Plumbs, a Fruit deserving Praise:
Thou Myrtle! too I'll crop, and Laurel-Spraies,
So plac'd, that both may grateful Scents dispence,
And mingling fully, entertain thy Sence.
Oh Coridon! thy clownish Gifts forbear,
For thy mean Presents will Alexis care?
Or were thy Off'rings ne'er so worthy; yet
Wou'd J[ola]s in such to thee submit?
What have I done? in mentioning that Name,
How is my rash unwary Tongue to blame?
A Southern Wind to blast my Flow'rs I bring,
And plunge the Boars into the christal Spring!
Whom fly you! frantic Youth? ev'n Gods have made
With Joy their Dwellings in the Sylvan Shade;
Here Trojan Paris liv'd: let Pallas go
To Tow'rs that to her Art their Structure owe;
There let the Warrior-Goddess proudly rest
The peaceful Groves of all things please me best.
Fierce Lionesses urg'd by strong Desire,
Pursue He-Wolves to quench their raging Fire;
The Wolves themselves with hungry Appetite
Pursue the Goats; green Leaves the Goats invite,
Thou me, Alexis! all things seek Delight.
See Ev'ning comes; from Toils the Cattle cease,
And by the setting Sun the Shades increase;
Yet do's my Pain its lasting Fury prove:
For oh! what Measure can be found in Love?
Ah! Coridon! what wretched Frenzy's thine?
Behold, at home, a tender blooming Vine
Ly's half undress'd; haste thither, and apply
To useful Things, lay fruitless Wishes by;
If this Alexis scorns you, you may find
Some other Youth to your Endeavours kind.

CXVI
THE THIRD PASTORAL

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Dametas, Menalcas, Palæmon
Menalcas
Tell me, Dametas! whose'n Sheep these are:
Do's Melibæus own them?


162

Dametas
No, my Care,
Ægon employs; if you wou'd understand
They're his late giv'n.

Menalcas
To an unhappy Hand;
For while he courts Næera, fearing she
Disdaining him, shou'd better think of me,
To bribe her Favour from his Master's Store;
Twice in an Hour he milks the Cattle o'er,
And thus he drains the Moisture from the Damms,
And of their Food defrauds the little Lambs.

Dametas
Yet softly thus to Elders; I know too,
Pert Youngster! Who did you now? what with you;
The rank He-Goats appear'd the Deed to blame,
Turning their Heads another way for Shame;
I noted well the sacred Place and Time,
But th' easy Nymphs by laughing pass'd the Crime.

Menalcas
'Twas when they saw this envious Hand of mine
Break Micon's Shoots, and cut his tender Vine.

Dametas
Or at th' old Beachen Trees, when you thought fit
To Daphnis here to set your manly Wit,
Whose broaken Bow and Shaft, your Malice show'd,
For when you saw them on the Boy bestowed,
You griev'd, and from that time a Grudge you ow'd,
And if your Spleen had not been satisfy'd,
E'er this Menalcas! You had surely dy'd.

Menalcas
What shall we Masters do, when Varlets we
Audacious find to such a high Degree?
Did I myself not see you: Thou, most vile!
(Lycisca, barking greatly all the while,)
Attempt a Goat of Damon's to betray,
And slily from the Flock to bear away?
And when I cry'd Ho! where now flies he to?
Tityrus! take care, observe your Cattle! you
Did close behind the Hedges sneaking lie.


163

Dametas
Pray can you tell me, strict Accuser! why,
When he in singing was by me out-done,
He shou'd not yield the Goat I fairly won?
The Goat you saw was mine (if you must know)
Damon himself confess'd it to be so,
But did deny he cou'd the Due bestow.

Menalcas
You him in singing! such a wond'rous Deed!
Was you e'er Master of a waxen Reed?
You Ignoramus! who on the high Ways
Did use to squander miserable Lays,
And with a tuneless Pipe and senseless Song
Suit the dull Fancy of the gaping Throng.

Dametas
Then will you that we present Trial make
Of both our Skills? This Heifer here I stake,
Lest you refuse, and think the Prize too mean;
Know in a Day, twice at the Pail she's seen,
Two Young besides she nurses, Stripling! say
What Wager now with me you chuse to lay?

Menalcas
As at this time my Circumstances are,
To wager from the Flock, I do not dare,
I have at home a Father, whom I fear,
And a Step-Mother that is too severe,
Twice in a Day, my Charge they numb'ring see,
Both the grown Cattle, and the young ones he,
But since the mad Man you're resolved to play,
What yourself shall worthier own, I'll lay
A Beachen Cup, with curious Carving grac'd,
By spreading Vines and Ivy 'round embrac'd,
Two Figures in the mid'st are neatly plac'd.
Conon and what's his Name? The Man that drew
The World and all its various People shew,
The Times when Harvest shou'd begin and end;
And when the Ploughman at his Task shou'd bend;
The Work Divine Alcim[e]don's: I keep
This up, as yet untouch'd by mortal Lip.

Dametas
And this Alcimedon, whom you have nam'd,
Two Cups for me has in like manner fram'd;

164

The Rims Acanthus twining do's embrace,
The middle Part Orpheus appears to grace,
And following Woods, the sweet Musician trace.
These too, like you, with Care I hidden keep,
Nor to their Edges yet have laid my Lip;
Nevertheless, you'll small occasion find
To praise the Cup, if you the Heifer mind.

Menalcas
No where shall you escape this live-long Day,
Where e'er you slip, I'll follow strait away;
Our Diff'rence now, let any fairly try;
Let any Man be judge who passes by.
See there Palæmon, from this time I shall
Teach your bold Tongue more humble Words to all.

Dametas
Come on Pretender! and your utmost try,
I'm ready, and the worst you can defy,
Nor ever do I any basely fly.
But, Friend Pal[æ]mon! ponder well withal
Our present Cause; the matter is not small.

Palæmon
Then let your Skill be mutually express'd,
While here upon the tender Grass we rest,
The Trees now bloom, and each delightful Field
Do's now its choicest Sights and Odours yield,
Leaves crown the Woods, and in its Beauty's Prime,
The Year now reigns; most lovely is the Time.
Begin Dametas! and Menalcas! you
Shall in alternate Strains his Steps pursue,
Alternate Verses please the Muses too.

Dametas
Be your first Off'ring, Oh ye Muses! Jove's,
Jove fills the World, and ev'rything improves;
He gives us Plenty, and my Verses loves.

Menalcas
And me his Favour bright Apollo shows,
His Gift the Laurel ever with me grows,
He the sweet ruddy Hyacinth bestows.

Dametas
A wanton Lass, brisk Galatea, me
With Fruit allures; then passes swiftly she
And hides; yet wishes that I first shou'd see.


165

Menalcas
But scarce from me will kind Amyntas go,
Who freely comes and haunts my Dwelling so,
That not our Dogs, now Delia better know.

Dametas
My Venus soon shall have a Gift; for I
Lately a Pidgeon's Nest observ'd on high,
I mark'd the Place, and have it in my Eye.

Menalcas
Ten Wildings I have sent my lovely Friend,
'Twas what I cou'd; yet further I intend,
Ten more to morrow carefully to send.

Dametas
How oft has Galatea bless'd my Ear?
What has she say'd? ye gentle Breezes! bear
Some Part to Heav'n, that all the Gods may hear!

Menalcas
Small is thy valu'd Kindness in this Case
Amyntas! while the savage Boar you chace,
I hold the Nets, nor view thy comely Face.

Dametas
Hither (for this is my Birth's joyful Day)
Send Phillis, Jolas! and when I slay
A Heifer for my Fruits, come thou thyself away.

Menalcas
Of all my Loves, fair Phillis is the Head,
She Tears at my Departure kindly shed,
And oh! a long Farewell fair Jolas! she said.

Dametas
To Folds the Wolf, winds to tender Tree,
Show'rs to ripe Fruits most dreadful ever be,
And Amaryllis when inrag'd to me.

Menalcas
The Moisture's lov'd by Grain that's newly sown
Wean'd Kids to Shrubs, young are to Sallows prone,
Amyntas is my Choice, and he alone.


166

Dametas
Pollio the Ditties of my rural Reed,
My Verse tho' humble condescends to heed,
A Heifer Muses! for your Reader feed.

Menalcas
And Verses freely flow from Pollio's Hand,
Pollio himself the Muses do's command:
Feed a fierce Bull that butts and spurns the Sand.

Dametas
Whom Pollio loves, may he all Pleasures know,
Each where to him, let plenteous Honey flow,
And prickly Thorns, Arabian Sweets bestow.

Menalcas
Who Ticko's empty Verse imagin's fine;
Oh lib'ral Maurus! may be pleas'd with thine,
The same may milk He-Goats and Foxes joyn.

Dametas
Ho, ye rash Boys! who here so heedless pry;
For Strawberries and Flow'rs hence quickly fly,
Lo! a fell Snake hid in the Grass do's lie.

Menalcas
My Sheep! forbear approaching, I advise,
Who comes too near the Bark, not safely try's;
For see the Ram his Fleece this instant dry's.

Dametas
My Goats, oh Tityrus! from the River bring,
When Time shall make it a convenient Thing,
I'll wash them all in yonder Chrystal Spring.

Menalcas
Boys! drive the Sheep to some protecting Shade,
Lest, for their Milk, vain Trial shou'd be made;
(Dry'd up thro' Heat) and we as late betray'd.

Dametas
How lean a Bull in a fat Field I view?
This Love, alas! do's mortal Things undo,
Ruins the Herd, the wretched Herdsman too.


167

Menalcas
These tender Lambs! their Misery ne'er sprung
From Love, their Skins scarce on the Bones are hung,
What evil Eye has thus bewitch'd my Young.

Dametas
Say in what Land the Heav'ns open lye
Three Ells alone? (to the observing Eye,)
And for thy Skill with great Apollo vye.

Menalcas
Say in what Land? if thou hast found declare,
Where growing Flow'rs the Names of Monarchs wear,
And from all Rivals lovely Phillis bear.

Palæmon
Me for a Judge, but illy you provide
A Cause of so great Moment to decide,
The Heifer both deserve, and all who fear
A Love that's kind, or prove a too severe;
Now let the River's running be restrain'd
Enough, my Boys! this time the Meads have gain'd.

CXVII
THE FOURTH PASTORAL

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Sicilian Muses! yet a higher Strain,
Let's sing mean Shrubs and Bushes on the Plain,
Delight not all; arise, and try to prove
The Woods deserving of a Consul's Love.
Now! now! the last auspicious Times behold,
By the Cumean's sacred Verse foretold,
A glorious Race of Ages is begun,
And now springs forth successively to run;
The Virgin now returns, and Saturn's reign
Is to the joyful World restor'd again.
See a new gracious Progeny descends
From the high Heavens! at whose appearance ends
This Iron Age, and a new golden Race,
With ev'ry Virtue crown'd, assumes its Place.
Oh chast Lucina! speed the glorious Birth,
For now thy own Apollo reigns on Earth.

168

And thou transcendant Infant! shall be born
In Pollio's Rule! his Consulship adorn!
Thence shall the wond'rous Time its Date begin,
And thou our Guide, if of our former Sin
Some Print remains, they shall be ras'd by thee,
And Earth from Dread of future Guilt set free.
He shall a God's exalted Life receive,
And like the Gods and mingled Heroes live,
Viewing and view'd by each, and Man's vile Race,
Shall sway and alter with Paternal Grace.
Thou Child! when born from the neglected Earth
Choice Herbs and Flowers shall derive their Birth,
With voluntary speed, She-Goats shall come,
Their Udders stretch'd with Milk undriven home,
And wand'ring Herds (no careful Keepers near)
Securely feed, nor the grown Lions fear.
To thee the Field its blooming useful Store
Shall offer, baneful Herbs shall be no more,
No more the lurking fiery Serpent's Sting
Shall sudden and severe Destruction bring,
In common Ways Assyrian Sweets shall spring;
But when advanc'd in Years, thyself shall read
Of Heroes Fame, and each paternal Deed,
Extracting thence their Virtue's hopeful Seed,
By soft Degrees the yellow-waving Corn
Arising, shall th' extended Plains adorn;
On Hedges purple Grapes in Clusters grow,
And from hard Oaks delicious Honey flow.
Yet still of ancient Fraud there shall remain
Some Signs, and bold and greedy Men for Gain
Shall tempt the Billows of the raging Main.
Cities shall be with Walls begirt around,
And the sharp Plough in Furrows tear the Ground.
Another vent'rous T[iphy]s shall appear,
An Argo its elected Heroes bear,
New Wars and Sieges shall Mankind annoy,
And great Achilles shall again to Troy.
But when at full-grown Manhood thou shall be,
The most successful shall renounce the Sea,
The Ships shall sail for mutual Wares no more,
But all things shall abound on ev'ry Shore,

169

No Plough shall vex the Ground, nor Hook the Vine,
The lab'ring Cattle shall the Yoke decline,
Nor more forc'd painful Servitude shall know,
Nor Wool its various Dyes dissembling show;
But lordly Rams shall in the flow'ry Mead
In Robes of native Purple proudly tread,
And sweat beneath unborrow'd State, the Lamb
Shall gaily prancing to its bleating Dam,
Repair in Crimson that the lib'ral Field
To grace the Wanton shall unsought for yield.
The Parcæ shall with joynt Consent agree
To keep thy Ages Thread from Mixture free,
And when they have the happy Clue begun,
Shall bid it smoothly and securely run.
Advance! advance! thy Time is now at hand,
Receive thy Honours and supream Command,
Thou precious Offspring of the Gods above!
Thou bless'd and vast Munificence of Jove!
Behold the World by sinful Weight oppress'd,
Inclines to yield; Earth, Sea, and Heav'n distress'd,
Require thy Help: Lo! Nature lifts her Voice,
And all things at th' approaching Age rejoyce!
Oh wou'd my Life endure; cou'd I but raise
My Skill to suit thy Due, thy lofty Praise;
Tho' Thracian Orpheus did with me contend,
Not Thracian Orpheus shou'd in Verse transcend,
Nor Linus in sublimer Raptures fly,
Tho' each had his Illustrious Parent by,
Orpheus Caliope to grace his Song,
Linus Apollo ever fair and young!
Shou'd Pan ev'n in Arcadia vye with me,
Ev'n in Arcadia Pan shou'd vanquish'd be!
Begin, oh little Boy! with Smiles to know
Thy Mother; this small Recompence bestow
On her, who has ten tedious Months so late,
With nauseous Ilness born thy growing weight.
Begin, oh little Boy! with gracious Mind,
Who smile not on their Parents ne'er shall find
A courteous God at Board, in Bed, a Goddess kind.

170

CXVIII
THE FIFTH PASTORAL

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Mopsus Menalcas
Menalcas
Oh Mopsus! since thus luckily we meet,
Thou good to pipe, I Verses to repeat:
Why sit we not in this delightful Shade,
Which Hazles mixt with lofty Elms have made?

Mopsus
As you exceed in Years and Worth, to you
I must Menalcas! give Precedence due,
Whither a lovely Seat we chuse to take,
Where wanton Zephyrs waving Shadows make,
Or in yond Cave round which the clasping Vine,
Loaden with Purple Grapes do's sweetly twine.

Menalcas
Amyntas only of our Mountain Swains,
Presumes to equal thy delicious Strains.

Mopsus
And what if that bold Swain presume to do
Yet more, and equal great Apollo too?

Menalcas
Mopsus! begin, if either Alcon's Praise,
Or Loves of Phillis have employ'd thy Lays:
Or wou'd you the Disputes of Codrus try?
Begin, thy Goats shall brouze securely by,
And Tityrus guard them with a watchful Eye.

Mopsus
No, but the Verses that I lately made,
And on the Bark of a green Beech display'd,
And nicely measur'd, and exactly weigh'd,
I'll try; then let Amyntas, if he dare,
The Skill you boast he has, with mine compare.

Menalcas
As much as Shrubs in Sight and Value yield
To the pale Olives that adorn the Field,
As the mean Swallow that neglected grows

171

In Scent and Beauty to the blushing Rose.
(If I may claim a proper Judge to be)
So much Amyntas must submit to thee.

Mopsus
But now my Boy! thy Commendation wave,
For see already we've approach'd the Cave.
The pitying Nymphs thro' ev'ry Grove and Plain,
Bewail'd th' untimely Fate of Daphnis slain,
Did vast Regret and Lamentation show,
Ye Hazles, and ye Streams, confess'd their Woe!
When his dear Mother (most of all distress'd)
His bleeding Corps in strict Embraces press'd,
She did (with Rage and Sorrow fill'd) exclaim,
And all the Gods and Stars severely blame;
In those sad Days no lab'ring Swain for Drink
Drove his fed Ox to the cool River's Brink:
The Brooks were then by Cattles Feet unstain'd,
And hung'ry Herds their needful Food disdain'd;
That furious Lions, Daphnis! mourn'd thy Fate,
The Woods and unfrequented Hills relate.
By Daphnis taught Armenian Tygers drew
The peaceful Chariot; Daphnis did renew
The Rights of Bacchus and religious Chear,
And deck'd with Ivy wreaths the trembling Spear.
As spreading Vines o'er other Trees have Place
In goodly Show, as them their Product grace:
As lusty Bulls the lowing Herds adorn,
And Fields are beautify'd by standing Corn,
Thou wert the Grace of thine; in Sorrow due
To thy sad Fate, ev'n from the Plains withdrew,
Pales herself with great Apollo too.
Where oft the golden Grain we us'd to strow
Wild Oats and Darnel now insulting grow;
Where once the soft blue Violet appear'd,
And once its Head the Daffodilly rear'd,
With mingled Scent and Beauty sweetly grew,
Now Burs and bristly Thistles vex the View.
Let Earth be strow'd with Leaves, and let a Shade
Be o'er the Brooks and murm'ring Fountains made,
Ye Shepherds! thus Daphnis himself commands,
And claims this Service from your grateful Hands;

172

Then to his sacred Memory with Care
Erect a Tomb, and place these Verses there,
‘I Daphnis, known hence to the starry Sky,
Kept a fair Flock, but fairer much was I.’

Menalcas
Oh Bard Divine! thy Verses charm me so,
Not they a more delicious Pleasure know,
Who rest on tender Grass their weary Limbs,
Or quench their raging Thirsts in running Streams.
Thy Master's Skill thou hast not only gained
With warbling Pipe, but with thy Voice obtain'd.
Oh glorious Youth! each way compleatly bless'd,
Equal to him thou shalt be now confess'd!
Such as they are, I'll now repeat my Lays
To thee, and Daphnis to the Stars we'll raise:
Daphnis we'll place among the Stars, for he
Good Will and Favour also bore to me.

Mopsus
Then such a Gift, what wou'd I rather chuse?
The Youth was worthy of the choicest Muse:
And Stimicon much my Desire has rais'd,
Who to me lately these thy Verses prais'd.

Menalcas
The candid Daphnis th' unaccustomed Seat
Of Heav'n surveys, and far beneath his Feet,
Beholds the passing Clouds with vast Surprize,
And num'rous Stars that glitt'ring grace the Skies;
Therefore a mighty Transport fills the Plains,
Pan and the rural Nymphs, and rustick Swains,
And gen'rous Mirth each where unbounded reigns,
Now prouling Wolves neglect their Rage and Wiles,
The Net no more the tim'rous Deer beguiles;
All Hatred, Fraud, and fierce Contention cease.
Daphnis loves Leisure and the Joys of Peace.
The high rough Hills to Heav'n their Voices raise,
The hollow Rocks rejoycing sound his Praise.
The very Shrubs advance his Name on high,
And, oh Menalcas! he's a God, they cry.
Then to thy own, oh! kind and gracious be,
Four goodly Altars here erected see;
Receive, oh Daphnis! Adoration due,

173

Two Altars are thy Right, Apollo's Two;
Two Bowls of Milk will I before thee lay,
And two of Oil, a yearly Off'ring pay,
And being first with gallant Chear supply'd.
In cooling Shades in Summer's sult'ry Tide,
In Winter's Season by the Fire's side!
New Wine in plenteous Streams I'll pour to thee,
That like the Liquor of the Gods, shall be,
Dametas then a chearful Lay shall sing,
And Lictius Egon make the Vallies ring:
Alph[e]sibæus too shall featly trip
In antic Jiggs, and like a Satyr skip.
These things shall to thy Honour e'er be paid,
When to the Nymphs our solemn Vows are made,
And when of rural Gods we crave the usual Aid.
While Boars on Mountains Tops delight to stray,
While in the Silver Streams the Fishes play,
While Grashoppers are fed with Morning Dew,
And Bees their Toils in flow'ry Fields pursue.
Thy Honour, Name and Praise with ev'ry Swain,
Shall in Request eternally remain.
As still to Bacchus and to Ceres we
Offer our Vows; the Husbandman to thee,
The fame with Zeal shall yearly give, and thou
Shalt claim th' Observance of each offer'd vow.

Mopsus
What for such Lines, what Gift shall I bestow
On thee, that my Esteem may fitly show?
For not the coming of a Southern Breeze,
That softly stealing Whistles thro' the Trees,
Cou'd with its rustling Noise delight me more,
Nor Billows striking on the sounding Shore,
Nor Streams that trickle from a steepy Hill,
And stony Vallies with their Murmurs fill.

Menalcas
But let me first a grateful Present make,
This Pipe in Token of my Friendship take.
Two Strains this taught me; Coridon the Fair
Alexis lov'd, his Lord's delicious Care.
And, tell Dametas! whose'n Sheep these are?


174

Mopsus
Take thou this Crook that from me oft in vain
Antigenes, tho' lovely, strove to gain,
Deserving not Menalcas! to be scorn'd,
With equal Knots and shining Brass adorn'd.

CXIX
THE SIXTH PASTORAL

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

My Muse first sported with Sicilian Strains,
Nor blush'd Thalia in the Woods and Plains
To dwell, when aiming at sublimer Things,
War's wastful Fury, and the Deeds of Kings;
Apollo gently whisper'd in my Ear,
And thus he said, rash Tityrus! beware,
Sheep and low Strains best suit the Shepherd's Care.
Thus, while oh! Varus! other Bards proceed
To sing thy Fame, and tell each dreadful Deed,
Inferior Aims provoke my Muse's Lays,
And yet not wholly she despairs of Praise,
While she ingraves on ev'ry Tree thy Name,
While Varus! thee ev'n lowly Shrubs proclaim;
For he whose Lines thy worthy Mention bear,
Is sure of Phœbus the peculiar Care.
Proceed, ye Muses, in his usual Guize
Chromis and M[n]asylus by Chance surprize
Silenus, in a Cave to sleep compos'd,
With Fumes of yester's Wine and the God was doz'd:
High hung his Pitcher old and in decay,
And fall'n far off his rosy Garland lay;
With Joy (for oft the Sire in vain believ'd,
Had both the Youths with promis'd Verse deceiv'd).
Approaching softly, they secure his Hands,
With his own Wreath transform'd to sudden Bands.
Herself to these the beauteous Ægle joyn'd
A Nymph! the fairest of the wat'ry Kind;
And as awak'd he casts around his Eyes,
With Mulb'ry's Juice his Front and Temples dies.
He smil'd at their Design; for what he said,
For what Offence am I your Pris'ner made?
Lose me, presumpt'ous Boys! without Delay,
The promis'd Verses instantly I'll pay
To you, the Nymph I'll please another way.

175

He then began, and from the Woods and Lawns,
A num'rous Croud of Satyrs and of Fawns
Rejoycing come, ev'n savage Beasts attend,
And stubborn Oaks their lofty Branches bend.
Parnassus ne'er more joyfully restor'd
The sounding Strains of its harmonious Lord,
Nor Rhodope, nor Ismarus before
At Orpheus's wond'rous Skill were ravish'd more,
Than all things here united, did admire
The high exalted Strains of this experienc'd Sire.
He sung, how when thro' the vast Void compell'd,
The Seeds of Earth, Sea, Fire, and Spirits held
Their casual way, productive as they flew,
All things from these their Forms and Beings drew,
And hence the World's delightful Order grew!
Then Earth appear'd, and hard'ning by Degrees,
Rear'd its fair Head above surrounding Seas,
With a young Offspring grac'd; the glorious Sun
Then his ætherial Course began to run,
And Clouds exalted o'er the Land, to pour
The fruitful Blessing of a plenteous Shower;
Then Woods arose and Beasts a lonely Way,
(Few yet and Strangers) o'er the Mountains stray;
Then Saturn's happy Reign the Song pursu'd,
And how Man's Race was in the World renew'd.
Prometheus's Theft and Punishment it nam'd,
And how the parting Mariners exclaim'd
For lovely Hylas, in the Fountain drown'd,
While Hylas! Hylas! all the Rocks resound.
And thou, Pasiphae! who a happy Queen
Might have been stil'd, if Herds had never been,
A snowy Bullock here thy Care do's prove,
And has the Gift of thy unnat'ral Love.
Ah! wretched Dame! in thee what Madness reigns?
The Prætides, who roving fill'd the Plains
With feigned Lowings, never did require
Such Mates, nor burn'd with such a foul Desire,
Tho' each for Horns explor'd her tender Brow,
And fear'd the Yoke and Labour of the Plough[.]
Ah, wretched Dame! thou do'st the Mountains pass
In fruitless Search, while on the springing Grass
Heedless he feeds, or else perchance is lay'd
Beneath a spreading Oak's refreshing Shade,

176

Or follows some fair Heifer of the Herd,
Who is before unhappy thee preferr'd.
Oh, all ye Nymphs! of ev'ry Stream and Grove,
Bound, bound his Course, restrain his roving Love,
With all your Might the careless Wand'rer stay,
And to her longing Eyes the Fugitive convey.
The Sire then sung the swiftly-running Maid
Stopp'd in her speed, by golden Fruit betray'd,
The Song did then the Sisters Fate display
Of him, who rashly aim'd to rule the Day,
Mourning his Lot, them sudden Barks inclose,
And each with speed a weeping Alder grows.
He sung how Gallus by a Muse convey'd
A grateful Journey to Parnassus made,
Rising to whom the sacred Choir express'd
A full Respect, and Linus thus address'd.
Receive this Pipe delicious Bard! he said,
On which before th' Ascræan Shepherd play'd,
Who did the Rage of Savage Beasts restrain,
And charm the Mountain Ashes to the Plain;
This the Grynæan Grove[']s arise shall tell,
That Phœbus most may there delight to dwell.
Why shou'd I either S[c]ylla's Tale relate?
Or taught by Fame declare the latter's State?
Who in the Sea a lov'ly Maid is plac'd,
But barking Monsters rave beneath her Waste,
That cause in passing Mariners such dread,
And often on their broken Limbs are fed.
How T[e]reus chang'd the various Song, express'd
The Rape of Philomel the horrid Feast;
How since in Woods sad Philomel complain'd,
Progne (her Breast with filial Blood yet stain'd)
Now hovers o'er the Palace where she reign'd.
What e'er the God of Verse divinely thought,
Eurotas heard, and to the Laurels taught
Silenus sings, the Valleys all around
In Ecchos to the Skies convey the Sound,
Nor did the length'ned Song receive its End,
'Till driven Sheep did to the Cottage tend,
And slow unwilling Night from Heav'n descend.

177

CXX THE SEVENTH PASTORAL

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Daphnis by Chance his Seat reposing took
Beneath the Covert of a spreading Oak,
And Coridon and Thyrsis thither led
Their Flocks, that joyning now together fed:
She-Goats fair fruitful Coridon did keep,
The Charge of Thyrsis was his bleating Sheep,
Both in their Prime! and both Arcadian Swains!
Both apt and ready at alternate Strains.
Now while I for my tender Myrtles made
A Fence from Cold, unhappily had stray'd
My Goat the Husband of the Flock, and I
Seeking th' unlucky Truant Daphnis spy,
When me again he had rejoycing spy'd,
Hither, oh Melibæus! haste, he cry'd,
Safe be thy Goats! and if Affairs permit,
In this cool Shade a while, I prithee sit,
Hither will come thy Bullocks thro' the Meads
To drink, and here behold, with waving Reeds
The River Mencius ouzy Banks are crown'd,
And from the sacred Oak the murm'ring Bees resound.
What shou'd I do in this Uncertainty?
I had not Phillis, nor Alappe nigh,
Who from the Call of their inviting Damms,
Might now secure at home my weaned Lambs,
And Numbers on the crowded Plain appear,
These youthful Shepherds fam'd Dispute to hear;
I idly too prefer their light Affairs
Before my Bus'ness, and more serious Cares.
The Shepherds then began to try their Skill
In Strains alternate, which the Muses will,
I shou'd remember; thus his Art each shows,
These Coridon recites, and Thyrsis those.
Coridon
Ye lov'ly Muses! my Delight! incline
To grant my Lays a Harmony divine;
Like those of charming Codrus, let them be,
Who is in worth Apollo! next to thee,
Or if my Prayer unkindly is deny'd,
My pipe shall on this sacred Oak abide.


178

Thyrsis
Arcadian Swains! around my Temples place
An Ivy Wreath, that Codrus in Disgrace,
May burst with Spight, or if malicious Praise
From his ill Tongue, too high my Value raise:
With Baccar bind my Brows (a sacred Charm)
Your growing Poet to secure from Harm.

Coridon
This rough Boar's Head with Favour Delia! see,
That little Micon now devotes to thee,
Who do's with this submissively impart
The branchy Horns of a long-living Hart,
If this proves well, thou shalt be wholly plac'd
Of smooth Punicean Stone, with Buskins grac'd.

Thyrsis
This Bowl of Milk and Cakes, Priapus! take,
A slender Present, that I yearly make.
Thy Care, my Garden is a little Spot,
A Marble Statue therefore's now thy Lot;
But if thy Blessing shall increase my Told,
Thy Marble Statue shall be chang'd to Gold.

Coridon
Oh Galatea! sweeter far to me,
Than Honey of the choice Hyblæan Bee,
Whiter than Swans that swim the Chrystal Streams,
And fairer than the clasping Ivy seems;
If thou for Coridon hast kind Concern,
Come! come! when ever my fed Bulls return.

Thyrsis
May I to thee more bitter seem than Rue,
More course than Fuz, than Seaweed abject too,
If this one day do's not to me appear,
(To weary me) more tedious than a Year,
Not yet suffic'd, what will ye ever feed?
Hence ye gorg'd Bullocks! home, for shame, with speed.

Coridon
Ye murm'ring Fountains! and thou tender Glade!
More soft than Sleep, thou sweet refreshing Shade!
By you protected, let my Cattle shun
The Summer's Heat that is ev'n now begun:

179

Lo! Warmth ev'n now is in th' encreasing Year,
And budding Gems upon the Vines appear.

Thyrsis
Here store of Fuel do's the Flames provoke,
The Posts are blacken'd by continual Smoke;
Here we the Rage of Boreas safely mock,
As Wolves despise the Number of the Flock;
Or, as the rapid Streams impetuous Force,
The useless Bank that wou'd obstruct its Course.

Coridon
Here stands the Juniper! rough Chessnut grows,
And Apples fallen from their loaded Boughs,
Each where appear, the Fields with Joy are crown'd,
And Mirth and Pleasure are dispens'd around;
But from these Mountains shou'd Alexis go,
Even the Rivers wou'd refuse to flow.

Thyrsis
The Sun with scorching Beams the Meadows fires,
Thro' blasting Air the Verdure all expires,
Ev'n Bacchus to his own denys his Aid,
Nor yields the gen'rous Vine a needful Shade:
When Phillis comes, will bloom the Trees and Flow'rs,
And Rain descend in joyful plenteous Show'rs.

Coridon
The Poplar to Alcides grateful proves,
The curling Vine gay youthful Bacchus loves,
The Myrtle pleases well Love's beauteous Queen:
Apollo likes his Laurel ever green;
But while the Hazle, Phillis! is thy Care,
None than the Hazle shall be thought more rare.

Thyrsis
The Ash in Woods do's ever fairest seem,
The Pine in Gardens, Poplars by the Stream;
The Firr of lofty Mountains is the Pride:
But wou'd'st thou charming Lycidas! abide
More often here, thy Grace my Boy! would be
Far more conspicuous than the fairest Tree.
Thus, Thyrsis did contend, but all in vain,
Vanquish'd by Coridon, who on the Plain,
Is since that Time our most applauded Swain.


180

CXXI
THE EIGHTH PASTORAL

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Damon, Alph[e]sibæus
Sad Damon's and Alph[e]sibæus Muse,
At which the Herd admiring, did refuse
Their needful Food, amaz'd the Lynxes stood,
And the chang'd River sto[p]p'd its rapid Flood,
The melancholly and the magic Strains
Of these we'll sing, that charm'd the wond'ring Plains.
And thou who do'st our rough Timavus awe,
Or o'er th' Illyrian Seas extend thy Law,
Shall ever come that Day's auspicious Date,
When I thy glorious Actions shall relate?
It shall, and I o'er all the World disperse
Thy Praise, fit only for the tragic Verse
Of Sophocles, take from my willing Hand,
What now derives its Birth from thy Command;
And 'round thy Temples let thy Ivy twine,
And there with thy victorious Laurels joyn,
For first and last my Labours shall be thine.
Now scarcely from the dawning Skies withdrew
The Shades of Night, and left expos'd to view,
The tender Grass o'erspread with grateful Dew;
When on a blasted Olive as reclin'd,
Thus Damon utter'd his despairing Mind.
Damon
Haste Lucifer! the ling'ring Day constrain,
While of false Nisa injur'd I complain,
And call the Gods to testify my Woe;
And tho' in vain my Rage and Grief I show,
Unhelp'd, yet must I to my latest Hour
Invoke them still, and blame Love's cruel Pow'r.
Begin with me, while injur'd I complain,
My mournful Flute! a soft Menalian Strain.
Menalus has its Groves and speaking Pines,
It ever to the Lover's Moans inclines;
The shepherds['] kindly hears, great Pan is there,
Who makes the tuneful Pipe his constant Care.
Begin with me, while injur'd I complain,
My mournful Flue! a soft Menalian Strain.

181

Nisa to Mopsus is in Wedlock joyn'd,
What may not Lovers now expect to find?
Now Mares may match with Griffins void of Fear,
And in succeeding Ages shall appear
Mingling to drink, the Hound and tim'rous Deer.
Haste, Mopsus! haste, and with officious Care
Oh happy Man! the Marriage Rites prepare,
Scatter the Nuts, thy Bride is present, see,
And th' Evening Star do's Æta quit for thee.
Begin with me, while injur'd I complain,
My mournful Flute! a soft Menalian Strain.
Of what a worthy Man art thou the Bride?
Proud Maid? so full of Scorn for all beside,
Who hate my Pipe and Goats, and so are scar'd
At my rough Lip, and long bristly Beard.
And think the Gods thy Business will allow,
Nor more regard each mortal thing than thou.
Begin with me while injur'd I complain,
My mournful Flute! a soft Menalian Strain.
I call to mind once with your Mother you
Came to our Orchard; there I first did view
Thy growing Charms, was your Conductor too.
Then twelve Years old! my tender Arms cou'd stretch.
Up to the Boughs, and nearest Apples reach,
I gaz'd and dy'd! what Error did betray
My Soul, and steal me from myself away?
Begin with me, while injur'd I complain,
My mournful Flute! a soft Menalian Strain.
Now know I what is Love, the rugged North
In Mountains, Rocks, or Desarts brought him forth;
Or Ismarus, or [Rh]odope, sure fed
Him young, or farthest Garamentes bred:
His Birth or Breeding here he cou'd not find;
Nor is he of our Blood or gentle Kind.
Begin with me, while injur'd I complain,
My mournful Flute! a soft Menalian Strain.
Oh savage Love! by thy Instruction led,
Her own dear Childrens Blood a Mother shed;
This in the Mother was a cruel Deed,
And impious Love the Cruelty decreed,
Which of the two did most pernicious prove?
Was she more cruel, or more impious Love?

182

Impious was Love the Mother cruel too,
Each in Extreme, and neither did out-do!
Begin with me, while injur'd I complain,
My mournful Flute! a soft Menalian Strain.
From Sheep let Wolves now fly possess'd with Fear,
Let Oranges on rugged Oaks appear,
And ev'ry Alder the Narcissus bear.
Let from mean Shrubs the choicest Honey flow,
And hideous Owls of Swans the Rivals grow;
Let rustic Tityrus Orpheus! change to thee;
Let ev'ry Wood in him an Orpheus see,
And let him with the Dolphins an Orion be.
Begin with me, while injur'd I complain,
My mournful Flute! a soft Menalian Strain.
O'er all things let th' unbounded Ocean flow:
Adieu, ye Woods! with sudden speed I'll go,
And from some Mountain plunge into the Sea;
Take thou this last and dying Legacy.
Now cease with me, for I no more complain,
Cease, my sad Flute! thy soft Menalian Strain.
Thus, Damon his unhappy Fortune mourn'd,
And what Alphesibæus then return'd,
Ye Muses! to my Memory recall;
For all things cannot be perform'd by all.

Alph[e]sibæus
Bring Water forth, and 'round this Altar twine
Green Ivy, and the tender springing Vine,
To these male Frankincense and Vervin joyn.
That my lost Husband, I by Magic Skill
May gain, and turn his Sences to my Will,
Reduce the Wand'rer to his Nuptial Vow,
All needful Things but Charms are present now.
Bring from the Town my mighty magic Charms!
Bring Daphnis home to my forsaken Arms.
The mighty Force of magic Charms can make
Ev'n the Moon her heav'nly Sphere forsake
Circe by Charms transform'd Ulysses Friends,
Their Force the deadly Snake to pieces rends.
Bring from the Town my mighty magic Charms!
Bring Daphnis home to my forsaken Arms.

183

This Ribbon of three divers Hues I wind
Three times about, then to thee first, thus bind,
And 'round this Altar thrice this Image bear;
Odd Numbers to the God delightful are.
Bring from the Town my mighty magic Charms!
Bring Daphnis home to my forsaken Arms.
Make Amaryllis! make immediately,
Three Knots of various Colours each, and cry,
I th' everlasting Bonds of Venus tye.
Bring from the Town my mighty magic Charms!
Bring Daphnis home to my forsaken Arms.
As now by one and the same Fire this Clay
Grows harder, and this Wax dissolves away,
Such thorough me, let perjur'd Daphnis prove,
So let him harden and dissolve with Love;
Besprinkle Meal, and then with Brimstone fire
These Laurel Leaves, as magic Rites require;
Daphnis inflames my Soul, and in return
Against false Daphnis, I this Laurel burn.
Bring from the Town my mighty magic Charms!
Bring Daphnis home to my forsaken Arms.
As a stray Bullock thro' the Woods do's go
Weary and wand'ring, and oppress'd with Wo;
At last in vain attempting many Ways,
Himself despairing on the Grass, he lays,
By frequent Lowings mourns his lost Estate,
Not knowing whither to return, tho' late.
Let wand'ring Daphnis such Distress endure,
Nor from my Hands obtain a needful Cure.
Bring from the Town my mighty magic Charms!
Bring Daphnis home to my forsaken Arms.
These Garments (sometimes worn) perfidious he
Dear Pledges of himself bequeath'd to me,
These now beneath this Threshold I bestow
In thee, oh Earth! these Pledges Daphnis owe.
Bring from the Town my mighty magic Charms!
Bring Daphnis home to my forsaken Arms.
This Poison, and these Herbs that vastly grow
In Pontus, Mæris did on me bestow;
By such a Wolf I've seen him oft become,
Then hide in Woods, and from the dismal Tomb,

184

The ghastly Scepter often make appear,
And often Fields of Corn with Fury rear,
And into other Fields transplanting bear.
Bring from the Town my mighty magic Charms!
Bring Daphnis home to my forsaken Arms.
Bring Ashes Amaryllis! forth with speed,
Then mark which way the flowing Stream do's lead,
And with it backwards cast them o'er thy Head.
Look not behind; thus Daphnis, I'll surprize,
He scorns the Gods, and all my Charms defies!
Bring from the Town my mighty magic Charms!
Bring Daphnis home to my forsaken Arms.
See, of their own accord (while I delay
To bear them hence) the Coals new Flames display,
Which trembling from the Altar now ascend,
It shou'd, I think, some prosp'rous thing portend:
I know not certainly the Meaning; hark,
Our Hylax at the Door begins to bark;
Do we vain Lovers, but ourselves deceive
By Dream, or may I what I wish believe?
Now cease! now cease! my mighty magic Charms!
Daphnis returns to my desiring Arms.

CXXII
THE NINTH PASTORAL

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Lycidas, Mæris
Lycidas
Whither away, my Friend! ho! Mæris! ho!
This leads to Town, say whither dost thou go?

Mæris
Oh Lycidas! how are our Hopes deceiv'd?
Things are as once we cou'd not have believ'd;
All is my own, the rugged Souldier says,
Hence ancient Rustics! march with Speed your Ways.
Forc'd to submit, yet with a heavy Heart
(For Fate and Force change all things) we depart,
And these two Kids t' appease his furious Mood
Now send; and may they never do him Good.


185

Lycidas
I'm sure, I heard from where these Hills ascend,
And their mean Summits gently sloaping bend,
As far as thence the passing Eye can reach,
Ev'n to the Water and the broken Beach;
All your M[e]nalcas had secur'd from Wrong,
And safely guarded by his charming Song.

Mæris
'Twas so reported, but alas! what Charms
Have Verses Lycidas! for martial Arms?
Here all the Muses gentle Graces fail,
As Doves must fly when furious Hawks assail,
And had not from a hollow Holm, the Crow
On the left hand forewarn'd me to forego
All new Debates; not Mæris on this Plain
Had been, and our Menalcas had been slain.

Lycidas
How? cou'd in any so much Baseness be?
Were all our Comforts almost lost with thee?
Thou dear Menalcas! who the Nymphs shou'd sing?
Who strow the Ground with blooming Herbs, or bring
Delightful Shadows o'er the chrystal Spring?
What Verses lately did I slily view,
And softly read, as little heeding you
Near to my darling Amaryllis drew.
‘Oh Tityrus! going hence a little way,
‘Let not my Goats 'till my returning stray,
‘But feed them near this gentle River's brink,
‘When fed, then drive them to the Flood to drink,
‘And driving them along yourself take care,
‘And of the rough He-goat who Butts beware.

Mæris
Ay! or what he to Varus did repeat,
Which th[o'] imperfect I remember yet,
Varus! if Mantua keeps from Ruine clear;
‘(Mantua to sad Cremona, ah! too near)
‘The Swans sweet Voices shall declare thy Fame,
‘And to the Stars exalt thy glorious Name.


186

Lycidas
So may thy Bees from harmful Yews be freed,
So may thy Cows within the flow'ry Mead
Their Udders fill, and ever safely feed.
If thou hast ought begin, the Muse has shown,
Ev'n me some Favour, I some Verses own:
The Shepherds call me Poet, but I know
I merit not the Title they bestow;
Aim not at Varus, nor at Cinna's Ear,
But like a gabling Goose among the Swans appear.

Mæris
'Tis Lycidas! what now imploys my Mind,
And I am aiming secretly to find,
Which, if I can remember, I'll rehearse,
Nor is it worthless or ignoble Verse.
‘Haste hither Galatea! what Delight
‘Can in the raging Deep thy Stay invite?
‘Here blooms the purple Spring in all its Pride,
‘And sweetly by the curling River's side:
‘The bounteous Earth distributes various Flow'rs,
‘Here woven, compose delicious Bow'rs;
‘The Poplar too in lov'ly green array'd,
‘Yields to the Cave both Gracefulness and Shade.
‘Haste hither! let the Billows vainly roar,
‘And madly beat on the resounding Shoar.

Lycidas
Say what I heard you sing one Night alone,
The Tune I yet retain, the Words are flown.

Mæris
Daphnis! regard not any ancient Sign,
‘Lo! Cæsar's Star do's now proceeding shine;
‘This shall to Corn and Fruits Perfection give,
‘And make the luscious Grape its purple Hue receive.
‘Now Daphnis! on thy Fruits employ thy Care,
‘Thy Childrens Children shall the Blessing share.
Time conqu'ring all things do's our Minds destroy,
I well remember when I was a Boy,
My Voice at my Command wou'd sweetly run,
And oft sing down a lingring Summers Sun;

187

Now I forget, my Voice, as it has been,
Is nothing too, Wolves first have Mæris seen;
But all these things, and more than I forget
Menalcas to thee often will repeat.

Lycidas
You by Excuse, but my Desire increase,
And lo! to thee, now Ocean's Murmurs cease,
And ev'ry Wind is gently hush'd to Peace.
We're now half Way, for lo! before our Eyes,
Bianor's Sepulchre begins to rise.
Let's sit and sing in this refreshing Shade,
That with green Boughs the lab'ring Hinds have made,
Let us, I prithee, rest a while, lay down
Thy Kids, we'll yet be time enough at Town;
Or if you fear e'er Night the coming Rain,
Let's go together singing o'er the Plain,
'Twill seem by far more short and easy Way,
As thus we spend the time, and that we may
Go thus together singing on the Road,
I'll lend my help to ease thee of thy Load.

Mæris
Cease now my Boy! and our Affair let's Mind
When e'er he comes, plenty of Songs we'll find.

CXXIII
THE TENTH PASTORAL

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Oh Arethusa! this my last Work aid,
Some Verses for my Gallus must be made,
And what Lycoris may herself peruse,
Who for the sake of Gallus can refuse
His proper Right, the Tribute of a Muse?
So may thy Stream beneath Sicania's Sea,
In everlasting Ease and Safety be,
Nor Doris mix her briny Waves with thee.
Then let's begin, and while my Goats (my Care)
Securely feed; oh! Gallus! We'll declare
Thy anxious Love, we sing not quite in vain,
The Groves shall answer to the mournful Strain.

188

Ye wat'ry Nymphs! what Woods or Mountains strove
To check your Help, when Gallus thus did prove
The fatal Victim of unworthy Love?
Parnassus never had your Course withstood!
Nor Pindus high! nor Aganippe's Flood!
Ev'n from the Laurels trickling Tears distill'd,
And flowing Grief the Shrubs and Bushes fill'd,
Pine-bearing Menalus Compassion felt,
And Stones of cold Lycæus seem'd to melt,
As stretch'd beneath a lonely Rock he lay,
The straggling Sheep around their Master stray.
Oh Bard divine! think it not shame to keep,
Like us on humble Plains the fleecy Sheep,
His snowy Flocks the fair Adonis fed,
And unrepining to the River led.
Upilio and the Neat-herds thither drew,
And smear'd with Winter-Mast Menalcas too,
All shew'd Concern, and whence arose thy Flame,
With Pity ask'd, to thee Apollo came.
Gallus! what Madness fills thy Mind, (he cries)
Thy false Lycoris with another flies
To distant Realms, and unrelenting go's
Thro' horrid Wars and everlasting Snows!
Sylvanus came, and on his Head was fixt
A Fennel Wreath, with quiv'ring Lillies mixt.
Pan came Arcadia's God, (by us descry'd)
His Cheeks and Temples were with Crimson dy'd,
Says he, what measure can in Love be shown?
Not Love as yet has any Measure known!
Fierce Love to flowing Grief no Bounds allows,
As Goats are ne'er suffic'd with verdant Boughs!
As Bees are ne'er suffic'd with Store of Flow'rs,
Or rising Grass with Streams or frequent Show'rs.
He mourning, thus reply'd, Arcadian Swains,
Record my Fate in your melodious Strains,
This let your Hills resound, your Songs alone
Are fit to make the Dying's Sorrow known!
How wou'd my Bones enjoy more perfect rest,
If by your Pipes my Passion was express'd?
And oh! that Fate had me like you decreed
To dress the Vines, or bleating Flocks to feed;
That I had been on the delightful Plain,
A chearful Shepherd of your tuneful Train:
To Phillis, or Amyntas made my Court,

189

Or any other of the rural sort,
Tho' brown or black, they yet might yield Delight,
Not Violets, nor Berries please the Sight!
Among the Sallows and the Vines we'd lay'd
Our careless Limbs, and innocently play'd;
Phillis had crown'd my Head with Wreaths of Flow'rs,
With pleasing Songs Amyntas bless'd the Hours.
By these cool Fountains! in these shady Groves!
(The proper joyful Scene of mutual Loves)
In these soft Meadows so profusely gay!
With thee Lycoris! cou'd I chuse to stay,
And well-delighted pass an Age away!
Now frantic Love keeps me in horrid Arms,
Expos'd to War's fierce Rage and hostile Harms,
While most unkindly and perversly you
(Nor am I willing to believe it true)
Over the lofty Alps perpetual Snow
To Rhenus's Coasts and dreary Regions go,
Ye bleaky Winds! your wonted Rigour spare;
Ah! hurt not, vex not the too vent'rous Fair,
And thou sharp Ice! her tender Limbs forbear.
I'll go, and with Sicilian Pipe rehearse
My once compos'd, yet long-neglected Verse,
Amidst the Dens of savage Beasts I'll be,
And carve my Flame on ev'ry tender Tree,
The lonely Wilds my hopeless Love shall know,
And as the Trees increase, the Love shall grow.
Then Menalus, I'll tred with eager Pace,
And mixing with the Nymphs, pursue the Chace,
Or hunt wild Boars, nor sharpest Colds shall stay
My steps, as 'round Parthenian Hills I stray.
And now, methinks, with op'ning Hounds I fly
Thro' sounding Woods that echo to their Cry;
Over Cydonia's Plains and Mountains go,
Rush thro' the Brakes, and bend the Parthian Bow,
As if such Toils cou'd cure my painful Mind,
Or any chosen Way the Means cou'd find,
Oh rigid Pow'rs of Love! to calm thy Rage,
Or human Ills thy Fierceness cou'd asswage.
And now my Thoughts (averse to all of these,)
Not Nymphs, nor Woods, nor charming Strains can please:

190

The cruel God our Labours cannot change,
Not tho' o'er Thrac[i]a's bleaky Realms we range,
To Heber's frozen Waters shiv'ring go,
In depth of Winter press Sithonia's Snow,
Or when the Sun do's to the Scales incline,
Drive our scorch'd Flocks beneath the Tropic Line.
The World is with his Pow'r and Presence fill'd,
Love conquers all, and we to love must yield!
Here cease ye sacred Muses! nor prolong
Beyond due Limits the devoted Song,
These mournful Verses, shall to Gallus prove
A grateful Token of my zealous Love,
My Love to Gallus! that do's hourly show
Increasing Force as springing Alders grow.
Now let's arise! for often by the Shade,
The Singer's Voice is hoarse or feeble made;
The Shades of Junipers unwholsome are,
Shades hurt the Fruits, 'tis Ev'ning[,] leave your Fare,
Ye fill'd She-goats, and to your home repair.

CXXIV
A PINDARIQUE ODE

Written in a Garden

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

Blest Shade! where I securely stay,
And taste the Fragrance of the Plain;
Which wanton Zephyr does convey
In his refreshing Play,
To chear the panting Flock, and panting Swain.
Here on this flow'ry Carpet laid,
By Nature's Hand, in Nature's Pride array'd;
My Soul, unus'd to balmy Ease,
By Sympathy at Rest,
Is lull'd within my Breast,
Unhurt by Care or Sorrow's worse Disease.

II

So have I seen the warb'ling Lark,
When Winter's cheerless Frosts were o'er,
And noisy Bear has ceas'd to roar,
The Day no longer cold, nor dark,
The narrow Compass of a Cage forget,
And broadling o'er a Turf, in silent Pleasure sit.

191

Here Solitude and gentle Ease combine
To give a Taste of Joy divine;
Here every Object seems design'd,
Whither thro' blooming Groves or flow'ry Meads we stray,
To drive Anxiety away,
And help Philosophy to cure the Mind.

III

With Joy I hear the tuneful Choir,
Which now are hov'ring o'er my Head;
Whilst I beneath supinely spread,
Their various Notes, and little Cares admire:
The Bird that sits upon this Bough,
Fearless by me to be distress'd,
Pursues the Building of her Nest;
Sure she by Instinct knows me now:
But my harmonious Friend, beware,
In me tho' safely you confide,
Thy Nestlings for the future hide;
All are not gentle, nor thy Work would spare.

IV

I feel, ah! lovely Seats, I feel your Influence,
That native Truth, and Innocence,
Which liv'd, e'er Virtue was deprav'd by Sense;
E'er momentary Trifles, transient Joy,
Did Man's Posterity destroy;
E'er foul Oppression had its Rise,
When all was blissful Paradise,
Before the Birth of Law, or its curs'd Parent Vice.
Oh! Let me here, kind Fate, remain
Upon this harmless, happy Plain;
Secure of peaceful Virtue and Content,
In no inglorious Ease and Banishment.

V

The Sun withdraws his genial Ray,
And reddens in the Western Sky;
The wand'ring Rooks do Homeward fly,
And, 'till the Morn appears, forsake the Prey
The Nightingale her mournful Story trills
In yonder Hawthorn Shade;
The Bleating Sheep are laid;
And on the Earth the nightly Dew Distills:
The Shepherd hasts to sound Repose,
Such sleep the Guilty never knew;
'Till Phœbus shall again his Beams disclose,
Blest Solitude, Adieu.

192

CXXV
THE FALL

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

As Chloe o'er the Meadow past,
I view'd the lovely Maid;
She turn'd and blush'd, renew'd her Haste,
And fear'd by me to be embrac'd,
My Eyes my Wish betray'd.

II

I trembling felt the rising Flame,
The Charming Nymph pursu'd;
Daphne was not so bright a Game,
Tho' Great Apollo's Darling Dame,
Nor with such Charms endu'd.

III

I follow'd close, the Fair still flew
Along the Grassy Plain,
The Grass at length my Rival grew,
And catch'd my Chloe by the Shoe,
Her Speed was then in vain.

IV

But Oh! as tott'ring down she fell,
What did the Fall reveal?
Such Limbs Description cannot tell,
Such Charms were never in the Mall,
Nor Smock did e'er conceal.

V

She shreik'd, I turn'd my ravish'd Eyes,
And burning with Desire,
I help'd the Queen of Love to rise;
She check'd her Anger and Surprize,
And said, Rash Youth, retire.

VI

Be gone, and boast what you have seen,
It shan't avail you much;
I know you like my Form and Mien,
Yet since so insolent y'have been,
The Parts disclos'd you ne'er shall touch.

193

CXXVI
TO PHILLIS: WHO SLIGHTED HIM

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Since you no longer will be kind,
But my Embraces shun,
Bacchus shall ease my am'rous Mind,
To his embrace I run.
Wine gives a Pleasure unrestrain'd,
Dispells the frantick Spleen;
Tho' Wishes cannot be attain'd,
Looks still are joyful seen.
The God within his gladsome Cave
No Care nor Grief allows;
He laughs to Scorn the Sober, Grave,
And Sighing Lover's Vows.
Then, Phillis, do whate'er you can,
I dully will not pine,
I'll ne'er forget I am a Man,
But seek my Cure from Wine.
That sullen Look, and hasty Kiss,
That Air reserv'd and coy;
That cold Denial of the Bliss
Shall not my Ease destroy.
If you no more can love like me,
Why should it give me Pain?
Frail Woman will inconstant be,
Nor Art their Will can chain.
As well I might cross Winds deplore,
At rising Tempests rave,
As hope a wav'ring Mind to cure;
Nature its Course will have.
Then welcome more enduring Joys,
Long shall my Doctor be,
A Club of Witty, Toping Boys,
And Love, adieu to thee.

194

CXXVII
SOPHRONIA'S ANSWER TO A COXCOMB

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

Satisfy your self, fond Youth,
I can believe you love;
I know the Charms of Wealth and Youth
Are Charms which you approve[.]

II

Regardless of my Wit, and Mind,
With Truth and Virtue fraught,
To meaner Beauties you are kind,
By Lust or Int'rest taught.

III

But know, the Person I shall choose,
Must have a Taste like mine;
I never shall consent to loose
The Charms in which I shine.

IV

To other Nymphs your Vows address,
Your sordid Accents, prate
Of Airs, Complexion, Mien and Dress,
And cringe your empty Pate.

V

You're handsome, fine, can caper, sing,
Of Coxcombs lead the Van;
Yet have not Sense, the only thing,
That I can like in Man.

CXXVIII
TO CLARISSA

Upon dirtying her Lodgings

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Dust from my earthy Surface fell,
And soil'd the fair Clarissa's Cell;
Clarissa's Eyes have Pow'r Divine,
And with uncommon Lustre shine;
I'm form'd of sordid Earth, which must,
When shin'd upon, be turn'd to Dust;

195

This Phœbus meaner Force can do,
Who is not half so bright as You;
Be not severe then in your Doom,
Since from your Self my Fault did come;
'Twas Wonder, when so near the Ray,
I did not moulder quite away;
She smiles, forgives; I feel the Pain,
Be angry, Charming Nymph, again;
Better to dye, than thus endure
What, You, ah Cruel! will not cure.

CXXIX
A Lady, asking the Author's Opinion of two Gentlemen, her Lovers, occasioned the following Lines

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

With decent Carriage, and an artful Stile,
The prudent Cynthio does the World beguile,
And hides the Satyr underneath the Smile.
Not so Astolpho, gen'rous and sincere,
He ne'er at common Failings is severe;
Open his Words, and undisguis'd his Soul,
He let's no trifling Humour spoil the Whole:
Ne'er sooths the harmless Foibles of Mankind,
Vainly, inhumanly, to laugh behind;
Wisely, at nobler Merit, he aspires,
And more the Name of Man, than Wit desires.
Teach me, kind Heav'n, to make so good a Choice;
Let Truth alone inspire an honest Voice:
Far from me keep the frothy Part of Wit;
Let me be dull,—but not an Hypocrite.

CXXX
SONG

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

Unveil, divinely Fair, your Eyes,
And from the downy Bed arise;
Ah! did you Strephon's Love partake,
You would not sleep, but ever wake.

II

Hence, hence, dull God of Sleep, away,
Let my Celinda bless the Day:
Insensibly, you close those Eyes,
At whose each Look, a Shepherd dyes.

196

CXXXI
SONG

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

Since Wine, Love, Musick, present are,
Let's banish ev'ry Doubt and Care;
This Night is ours, and we'll enjoy,
To Morrow shall not Now destroy.

II

Let us indulge the Joys we know
Of Musick, Wine and Love;
We're sure of what we find below,
Uncertain what's above.

CXXXII
SONG

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

Young Strephon, who thro' ev'ry Grove,
Had chas'd the fleeting God of Love,
Met Hymen once, who cross'd his Joy,
And chain'd the Am'rous Captive Boy.

II

Happy the Swains, who only stray
Where Love and Pleasure lead the Way;
Where Hymen's Arts can never move,
And Love receives no Tye, but Love.

CXXXIII
SONG

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

Why flies Clarissa from her Swain,
Regardless of Desire?
The Wanton sees his Pain,
And, of the Conquest vain,
Derides the Love-sick Fire.

197

II

Beware, ah! Cruel! Tempt not Fate,
Nor with Love's Arrows Toy;
Tho' now unhurt, Elate,
You'll surely find, too late!
There's Danger in the Boy.

CXXXIV
THE MINOUET

A Song

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

My lovely Charmer, will you Dance
With Strephon, your obedient Slave;
She look'd the kind consenting Glance,
And then her snowy Hand she gave.

II

The Youth with Joy the Nymph receiv'd,
And gently press'd her tender Palm,
'Till Musick's Sound the Hand reliev'd,
And robb'd him of his healing Balm.

III

The Am'rous Swain, thro' eager Haste,
Both Time and Measure did disdain:
Twice careless, he the Figure trac'd,
And snatch'd the snowy Hand again.

IV

The blushing Maid his Flame approv'd,
And with like gen'rous Passion mov'd,
Again, they round the Figure glow'd,
Then turn'd, and curtsy'd; Strephon bow'd.

CXXXV
THE TOPER

A Song

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

I

Let's Tope and be Merry,
Be Jolly and Cheary;
Since here is good Wine, good Wine.

198

Let's laugh at the Fools,
Who live by dull Rules,
And at us Good-Fellows repine.

II

Here, here, are Delights,
To amuse the dull Nights,
And equal a Man with a God;
To enliven the Clay,
Drive all Care away,
Without it a Man's but a Clod.

III

Then let us be willing
To spend t'other Shilling,
For Money we know is but Dirt;
It suits no Design,
Like paying for Wine,
T'other Bottle will do us no hurt.

CXXXVI
VENUS AND ADONIS: OR THE AMOUR OF VENUS

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Omnia vincit Amor ------
Virgil.
In Ida's Grove a secret Place there lies,
That seems secure from Man's and Heav'n's Eyes:
No raging Heat but Love's cou'd this invade
Ever protected by a grateful Shade
With rising Grass the plenteous Earth is Spread,
And various Flowers form a fragrant Bed:
Close by a softly-stealing Stream complains,
As if it self endur'd a Lover's Pains.
Around the Turtles, gently moaning seem,
And mix their Murmurs with the purling Stream.
Venus distress'd in Pallaces above,
Found no Content while absent from her Love;
The Residence of Gods cou'd yield no Joy,
Without the Presence of the lov'ly Boy:
She therefore left Heav'n's Courts (oppress'd with Cares,)
And to this humble, quiet Seat repairs.
Here now she seeks (her Comfort and Delight,)
The Youth, who must each soft Regard requite;
But ah! No Youth appears to bless her Sight.

199

The appointed Time was pass'd, th' exalted Sun
To th' utmost Summit of his Course was run;
Yet still Adonis, with an eager Pace,
Thoughtless of Heat, or Rest, pursues the Chace;
Thoughtless of Danger, or her kind Embrace.
But She (in whom nothing can Love controul
Love! The sole Joy and Essence of her Soul,)
Full of Desire, cannot her self contain,
But thence as Winds sweep o'er the stormy Main,
She swiftly springs . . . stops ev'ry Nymph and Swain,
Some Tidings of the ling'ring Boy to know,
And where, and how employ'd, and why so slow?
Her Voice and Eyes, and eager Steps proclaim
The fierce Impatience of the heav'nly Dame.
So flies the wounded Deer along the Plains,
Seeking Redress . . . while of its cruel Pains,
The fatal Cause fixt in it's Side remains.
To ev'ry Hill that a far Prospect makes
Thro' pathless Ways, a desp'rate Flight she takes,
In frantick Mode, her loose dishevell'd Hair,
Toss'd by the Winds, her Limbs expos'd and bare,
Careless of Beauties that so meanly charm,
And heedless in his Cause of ev'ry Harm.
Much Pains th' impatient Goddess dos' imploy
In fruitless Search of the neglectful Boy.
Weary'd at length with Toil, and faint with Heat,
Repairs again to her cool shady Seat,
Hoping in Sleep's inviting Arms to find
A Solace, to relieve her harrass'd Mind,
And faint Idea of that Bliss to gain,
For which, she waking fought so much in vain.
Now, now to needful Rest she's softly lay'd
In the Recess of the most secret Shade,
The ravish'd Earth, it's grassy Carpet spreads,
And new sprung Flowers nod their fragrant Heads.
Twine round her Limbs, and grateful Odours give;
But far more grateful Odours thence receive.
The Breezes ev'ry part with Kisses greet,
And by those Kisses make their Breaths more sweet;
The Trees in circling Crouds behold the Sight,
And shake their leafy Limbs, and tremble with Delight.
The curling River in a vast Amaze,
Restrains his murmuring Flood, and stops to gaze;
Transported, views the Grace of ev'ry Limb,
And grasps its dear Resemblance in his Stream.
Each am'rous Turtle far more am'rous grows,
And in tumultuous Moans its Passions shows[.]

200

Her heavenly Charms all but Adonis fire,
Whole Nature sees with Wonder and Desire!
The little Love's in silent, solemn State,
With due Obedience on the Goddess wait,
Part guard, Her sleeping with the strictest Care,
The Rest to seek the Darling Youth prepare.
Thus Venus do's her ardent Mind employ
The dear, the beauteous, wild, and wand'ring Boy,
Tho' shy t' embrace, tho' careless yet t' enjoy:
At least some fancy'd Blessing to procure
From Hind'rance, and from Interruption sure.
But ah! No cautious Dealing can delude
Close Envy, nor her jealous Sight exclude:
For whom shou'd simple Love securely blind,
Contrive, or act what Envy cannot find?
She slily lurking, this Intrigue do's know,
Disclosing all to Love's severest Foe.
And now th' abstemious Goddess of the Groves,
Cruel Diana, conscious of their Loves,
With Fury burns, and to pursue her Hate,
Had search'd the Volume of eternal Fate;
(For Fate all Actions sways, his Laws confine,
All aims, and curb even the Pow'rs Divine.)
Its brazen Leaves all Mortals Dooms comprize
In Characters of various Hue and Size;
The smaller still each happy Doom express,
Which human Malice (as it can) makes less
A sanguine Dye, and sullen Black unfold
The bad . . . . the Prosp'rous are display'd in Gold,
So deeply writ, that neither Force nor Skill
Can fully raise Them, both the good and ill
Slow Care, Discretion and Advice are by,
And all the bad t' abolish vainly try.
Here for Adonis's Doom the Goddess pry's
With dire Intent . . . and while her Hands and Eyes,
With Expedition, yet with Caution move,
She finds the Pages of disastr'ous Love.
There sees his sudden Lot in sanguine Hue,
Engraven deep, the Characters yet new.
And scarcely dry, the woful Deed reveal,
And seem an Image of the Case they tell,
How in small Time assaulting on the Plain
A furious Boar, the Hunter shou'd be slain.
At this well pleas'd, she smil'd, and cry'd Caress,
Thy Youth, fond Venus! thy Delight possess;
But short's th' allotted Time, and I the Joy
Of that short time shall labour to destroy.

201

This said, with furious Haste the Path she trod,
(And Mind with Vengeance fraught) to sleep's abode,
There took a Fantom from the drowsy God.
Fram'd like Adonis, in that dismal State,
To which he quickly must be doom'd by Fate.
This Envy had in Keeping to convey
With speed to where expecting Venus lay.
And now soft Sleep with welcome sweet Surprize
Approaching Venus shuts her radiant Eyes;
Yet ah! full Conquest anxious Thought denies,
By sudden Fits she shakes it from her breast
With fearful sad prophetick Dreams oppress'd.
No sooner had soft Slumber seiz'd the Dame,
(Ever within her Thoughts) Adonis came,
But how surprizing! How unlike the same?
His Eyes distorted! stupid! gastly! stare,
Pale were his Cheeks, and clotted was his Hair;
His feeble Limbs with Dirt besmeer'd around,
And Blood in Streams flow'd from a direful Wound:
From's Lips Words broken and imperfect, fell,
Some mournful Tale, he stamm'ring, seem to tell,
He sigh'd, and bad eternally Farewel.
Th' astonish'd Goddess vast Endeavours made
To grasp the dear, the lovely, dismal Shade:
But all alas! were vainly loss'd in Air,
Waking, she finds no sad Resemblance there.
O'er all the gloomy Grove with Care she pry'd,
But when no true Adonis she descry'd,
Again, t' inviting Sleep her self resign'd;
Again, the gastly Vision haunts her Mind:
Again, with Blood and Dirt obscene appears:
Again, the dismal long Farewel she hears:
Then, rising puts the horrid Dreams to Flight,
And frees her from the dire distracting Sight:
But oh! th' Impression still remains behind,
And with vast Doubts and Fears, torments her Mind.
As grievous Cares the Tender Mother seize,
Who from her Arms, and such indulgent Ease,
Her Life's Delight! her Age's Hope! for Gain,
Her only Son! has ventur'd on the Main.
When told by Fame, that on some rocky Coast,
The hapless Youth with all his Wealth is loss'd;
Such now of Venus seems the wretched Case;
Such weighty Grief in her sad Mind takes Place.
But now the Loves (by ranging all around,)
The long'd-for and lamented Youth had found;
And by his Side, in close Attendance came,

202

And introduc'd him to the wishing Dame:
Upon the dear delicious Boy she fly's,
As swift as Lightning flashing from the Skies,
Or as the Glances of her brighter Eyes:
Her circling Arms upon his Neck she flung,
And with fixt Kisses on his Lips she hung.
A while the Transport of the present Joys,
All Thought of future, or of pass'd destroys;
But when her Flame (that Grief more raging made)
By softest Dalliance was in Part allay'd,
Reflecting on her Dream, she silence broke,
And sighing thus, the tempting Goddess spoke:
Forbear, regardless Youth! at length forbear;
Nor prosecute with Beasts an endless War,
Thy Venus do's in all the Danger share.
Or, if, alas! thy too licentious Mind
Is still to vig'rous Sylvan Sports inclin'd,
At least, dear Youth! be cautious in thy Way,
Fly! fly with Care each furious Beast of Prey;
Ne'er arm'd with Launce provoke the raging Boar,
And dread the Lion's most tremendous Roar:
From the rough Bear's rude Grasp, oh! swiftly run,
The Leopard, and the cruel Tyger shun;
With strict Regard, oh! ever such avoid,
Lest all my Joy shou'd be with thee destroy'd:
But Nets, or fleetest Hounds for Deer prepare,
Or chace the crafty Fox, or tim'rous Hare:
Mix Safety ever with thy Sports, be wise,
And ne'er approach where Danger may arise.
For oh! a dismal Dream, portending Ill,
Do's all my Soul with wond'rous Horror fill;
Some mighty Mischief now impending shows,
And seems to threaten with unusual Woes:
What Apprehensions hence my Peace destroy,
And even in thy Presence, blast my Joy?
How will they then, while thou'rt hence surprize,
What countless Store of Jealousies will 'rise?
Oh! what Mistrust? What Terrors will impart
A constant Anguish to my aching Heart?
Be ever careful, and afford me Rest,
For both our sakes, Adonis! this Request:
Let not thy Mind be tempted to refuse,
Nor slight a Goddess, when she humbly sues.
Yet oh! most happy and secure to live,
To Love and Me, all, all thy Moments give.
I not with Juno, covet boundless Reign,
Nor strive with Pallas on the fatal Plain,
Such Triumphs, such dire Victories to gain:

203

Nor with Diana to the Chace inclin'd.
Do's thy affected Sport delight my Mind.
I all my Thoughts on Love alone employ,
That yields the truest and sublimest Joy;
Of all Diversions, only this is mine,
And dearest Youth! let it be ever thine;
Let's bid to ev'ry vainer Thing, Adieu,
You only bless'd in Me, and I in You.
Here by increasing soft Concern possess'd,
She ceas'd to speak, and ardently she press'd
His Hand, and Looks, and Kisses plead the rest.
But ah! the Sallies of a roving Mind,
No soft Endearments, or Entreaties bind:
Still in his Thoughts the wild Infection reigns,
He Freedom loves more than Cælestial Chains:
Nor can th' greatest Beauty of the Skies,
With all her Fondness and her Grace suffice;
But as young Striplings from the watchful Eye,
Break wildly forth, and to their Pastimes fly;
Their Friends, and their secure Abodes neglect,
And Counsel, and 'forewarning Care reject:
He vent'rously again the Chace pursues,
And Fearless in the Woods his Haunts renews;
Too soon, alas! forsakes her safer Arms,
Heedless of her Advice, and all her Charms,
Spurns at the Pleasures of his blissful State,
Perversly blind, and rushes on his Fate.