Lightly by frolic o'er the vacant mind, 1 is like, his park's exter ded bounds, ter his horfes, equipage, and hounds; that wraps his limbs in filken floth, Bard the neighb`ring fields of half their Futh; where folitary fports are feen, purns the cottage from the green; the world each needful product flies, the luxuries the world fupplies. as the land adorn'd for pleasure all, I replendour feebly waits the fall. As far fernale, unadorn'd and plain, fe while youth confirms her reign, borrow'd charm that drefs fupplies: with art the triumph of her eyes: Becharmsarepaft (forcharmsarefrail) Wadvances, and when lovers fail, as forth, folicitous to blefs, kaaring impotence of drefs. the land, by luxury betray'd, impleft charms at first array'd; g to decline, its fplendours rife, frike, its palaces furprife. Wourg'dby famine from the fmiling land, ful peafant leads his humble band; he inks, without one arm to fave, try blooms-a garden and a grave! hen, ah where, thall poverty refide, e the preffure of contiguous pride? common's fencelefs limits ftray'd, s his flock to pick the fcanty blade, fenceles fields the fons of wealth divide, t's the bare-worn common is denied. the city fped-what waits him there? profufion that he must not share; ten thonfand baneful arts combin'd paper luxury, and thin mankind; ach joy the fons of pleasure know red from his fellow-creature's woe. There the pale artift plies the fickly trade; what the courtier glitters in brocade, , while the proad their long-drawn pomp display, Thare the black gibbet glooms befide the way. The dome where pleasure holds her midnight Here, richly deck'd, admits the gorgeous train; With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour, Do thine, fweet Auburn, thine, the lovelieft Ah, no! to diftant climes, a dreary scene, Where the dark scorpion gathers death around; Good Heaven! what forrows gloom'd that parting day, That call'd them from their native walks away; And left a lover's for her father's arms. P 83. With With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, O, luxury! thou curft by Heaven's decree, Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, 3. Edvin and Angelina. A Ballad. TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale, To where yon taper cheers the vale For here forlorn and loft I tread, I give it with good-will. Then turn to-night, and freely share No flocks that range the valley free But from the mountain's graffy fide A fcrip with herbs and fruit fupplied, Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego; Nor wants that little long.' The lonely mansion lay; No ftores beneath its humble thatch The wicket, op'ning with a latch, To take their ev'ning reft, And gaily prefs'd and smil'd; Its tricks the kitten tries, His rifing cares the Hermit fpied, With anfw'ring care opprefs'd: And whence, unhappy youth,' he cried From better habitations spurn'd, Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd, A Fre! fond youth, thy forrows hush, And furn the fex!' he faid: die he spoke, a rifing blush he-lorn guett betray'd. d be feos new beauties rife, mantling to the view, barcours o'er the morning skies, Light, as tranfient too. Tful look, the rising breast, mate fpread alarms; y tranger ftands confest 1d in all her charms. forgive a ftranger rude, 4retch forlorn,' fhe cried, feet unhallow'd thus intrude her liv'd befide the Tyne, As wealth was mark'd as mine, 'Ex but only me. me from his tender arms faber'd fuitors came; Wis'd me for imputed charms, And felt, or feign'd a flame. or a mercenary crowd W richest proffers ftrove; the reft young Edwin bow'd, Tofom op'ning to the day, The dew, the bloffoms of the tree, The charms were his, but, woe to me! For I tried each fickle art, And while his paffion touch'd my heart, Till, quite dejected with my scorn, In fecret, where he died. ''Twas fo for me that Edwin did, Forbid it, Heaven!' the Hermit cried, And clafp'd her to his breaft: The wond'ring fair-one turn'd to chide'Twas Edwin's felf that prefs'd. Turn Angelina, ever dear, My charmer, turn to fee Thy own, thy long-loft Edwin here, Reftor'd to love and thee! Thus let me hold thee to my heart, And ev'ry care refign: And fhail we never, never part, 6 My life my all that's mine? No, never from this hour to part; We'll live and love fo true, The figh that rends thy conftant heart • Shall break thy Edwin's too!" §4. A Paftoral. In Four Parts. Pope. PASTORAL I. SPRING. You that,too wife for pride, too good for pow'r, Enjoy the glory to be great no more, And, carrying with you all the world can boaft, To all the world illuftriously are lost! O let my Mufe her flender reed inspire, Till in your native fhades you tune the lyre So when the nightingale to reft removes, The thruth may chant to the forfaken groves; But, charm'd to filence, liftens while fhe fings, And all th' aerial audience clap their wings. Soon as the flocks fhook off the nightly dews, Two Swains, whom love kept wakeful, and the Mufe, Pour'd o'er the whitening vale their fleecy care, DAPHNIS. Hear how the birds, on every bloomy spray, With joyous mufic wake the dawning day! Why fit we mute when early linnets fing, When warbling Philomel falutes the fpring? fo well! A foft retreat from fudden vernal show'rs Now rife, and hafte to yonder woodbine bo The turf with rural dainties thall be crown While op'ning bloomsdiffufe theirfweetsaro For, fee! the gath'ring flocks to fhelter te And from the Pleiads fruitful fhow'rs defd PASTORAL II. SUMMER. Addreffed to Dr. Garth. A SHEPHERD's boy (he feeks no better na Led forth his flocks along the filver Tham Where dancing funbeams on the waters pla And verdant alders form'd a quiv'ring tha Soft as he mourn'd, the ftreams forgot to t The flocks around a dumb compaffion tho The Naiads wept, in ev'ry wat 'ry bow'r, And Jove confented in a filent fhow'r. Accept, O Garth, the Mufe's early lays, That adds this wreath of ivy to thy bays; Hear what from Love unpractis'd hearts end From Love, the fole difeafe thou can'ft not c Defence from Phoebus, not from Cupid's bes Ye fhady beeches, and ye cooling ftream To you I mourn, nor to the deaf I fing; The woods fhall answer, and their echo rir The hills and rocks attend my doleful layWhy art thou prouder and more hard than th The bleating theep with my complaints ag They parch'd with heat, and I inflam'd by t The fultry Sirius burns the thirty plains, While in thy heart eternal winter reigns. Where fray, ye Mufts, in what lawn or gr While your Alexis pines in hopeless love? In thofe fair fields where facred Iis glides, Or elfe where Cam his winding vales divid As in the cryftal fpring I view my face, eh mahuthes paint the watery glass; br face bole graces please thy eyes no more, the fountains which I fought before. I was fkill'd in ev'ry herb that grew, ery plant that drinks the morning dew; wretched fhepherd, what avails thy art, ceby lambs, but not to heal thy heart! ther wains attend the rural care, Ter flocks, or richer fleeces shear: 3syon mountain let me tune my lays, Love,and bind my brows with bays. mine which Colin's tuneful breath When living, and bequeath'd in death: --Alexis, take this pipe, the fame the groves my Rofalinda's name: to the reeds fhall hang on yonder tree, ent, fince defpis'd by thee. I made by fome transforming pow'r e bird that fings within thy bow'r! t my voice thy lift'ning ears employ, thote killes he receives enjoy. yet my numbers please the rural throng, tyrs dance, and Pan applauds the fong: hs, forfaking ev'ry cave and fpring, my fruit and milk-white turtles bring: as nymph prefers her gifts in vain, her gifts are all beftow'd again. the fwains the faireft flow'rs defign, the garland all their beauties join: the wreath which you deferve alone, beauties are compris'd in one. delights in fylvan fcenes appear! g gods have found Elyfium here. right Venus with Adonis ftray'd, Diana haunts the foreft-fhade. vely nymph, and blefs the filent hours, s from thearing feek their nightly rs; Theary reapers quit the fultry field, and with corn theirthankstoCeresyield. fs grove no fucking viper hides, a breaft the ferpent love abides, the from blossoms fip the rofy dew, Alexis knows no fweets but you. to vifit our forfaken feats, **y fountains, and the green retreats! er you walk, cool gales thall fan the glade, Are you fit, fhall crowd into a fhade: you tread, the blushing flow'rs fhall things flourish where you turn your eyes. fing, and rival Orpheus' ftrain, ording forests foon fhould dance again. ng mountains hear the pow'rful call, dig ftreams hang lift'ning in their fall! ee, the thepherds thun the noon-day heat, berds to murm'ring brooks retreat; hades the panting flocks remove; and is there no relief for Love? But foon the fun with milder rays descends Addreffed to Mr. Wycherley. Thou, whom the Nine with Plautus' wit inThe art of Terence, and Menander's fire; [fpire, Whose fenfe inftructs us, and whofe humour charms, [warms! Whofe judgment fways us, and whofe fpirit Oh, fkill'd in nature! fee the hearts of fwains, Their artlefs paffions, and their tender pains. Now fetting Phoebus fhone ferenely bright, And fleecy clouds were freak 'dwithpurplelight; When tuneful Hylas with melodious moan Taught rocks to weep, and made the mountains groan. Go gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! To Delia's ear the tender notes convey. As fome fad Turtle his loft love deplores, And with deep murmurs fills thefoundingfhores; Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I mourn, Alike unheard, unpitied, and forlorn. Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along! For her, the feather'd choirs neglect their fong; For her, the limes their pleafing fhades deny; For her, the lilies hang their heads and die. Ye flow'rs that droop, forfaken by the fpring; Ye birds that, left by fummer, cease to fing Ye trees that fade when autumn heats remove, Say, is not abfence death to those who love? Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! Curs'd be the fields that caufe my Delia's stay Fade ev'ry bloffom, wither ev'ry tree, Die ev'ry flow'r, and perifh all but the! What have I faid? where'er my Delia flies, Let fpring attend, and fudden flow'rs arise, Let op'ning rofes knotted oaks adorn, And liquid amber drop from ev'ry thorn. Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along! The birds fhall cease to tune their ev ning fong, The winds tobreathe, the waving woods to move, And ftreams to murmur ere I ceafe to love. Not bubbling fountains to the thirsty swain, Not balmy fleep to lab'rers faint with pain, Not fhow'rs to larks, or funshine to the bee, Are half fo charming as thy fight to me. Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! Come, Delia, come; ah, why this long delay? Thro' rocks and caves the name of Delia founds: Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds. Ye pow'rs, what pleafing phrenzy fooths my Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind? [mind! She comes, my Delia comes! Now ceafe, my lay; And ceafe, ye gales, to bear my fighs away! |