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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

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CXV THE SECOND PASTORAL [OF VIRGIL]
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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,

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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.