Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with cloven heel From the glad sound would not be absent long, And old Damætus lov'd to hear our song. 35 But, O the heavy change, now thou art gone, The willows, and the hazel copses green, Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherds' ear. 45 Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas? For neither were ye playing on the steep, Where your old Bards, the famous Druids, lie, 50 Nor yet where Deva spreads her wisard stream: 55 Ay me! I fondly dream! 37 thou art gone] Browne's Sheph. Pipe (ecl. 4). But he is gone.' 50 Where] Spenser's Astrophel, st. 22, Ah, where were ye the while his shepheard peares, &c. Warton. 55 wisard] On the wisard stream of Deva, consult Warton's note. Had ye been there, for what could that have done? When by the rout that made the hideous roar, To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise To scorn delights, and live laborious days ; 63 swift] Vir. En. 1. 321. ، Volucremque fuga prævertitur Hebrum.' Warton. 69 tangles] Benlowes's Theophila, p. 2. 60 65 'Entangled thoughts in the trammels of their ambush hair.' Greene's never too late, 'Entangle men in their tresses,' p. 58. Shirley's Doubtful Heir, p. 36. G. Peele's Works, ed. Dyce, 1829, i. p. 17. ii. p. 11. 70 Fame] "Quasi hic subesset ingens Cupido gloriæ quæ etiam sapientibus novissima exuitur." Strada Prelu. p. 161. ed. Ox. 74 blaze] So P. Reg. iii. 47. 'For what is glory but the blaze of fame.' Warton. 75 blind] Spenser's R. of Rome. st. xxiv. 'If the blind Furie which warres breedeth oft.' Warton. And slits the thin-spun life. But not the praise, Set off to th' world, nor in broad rumour lies; Of so much fame in heav'n expect thy meed. 80 O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd flood, 85 Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocal reeds! That strain I heard was of a higher mood: But now my oat proceeds, And listens to the herald of the sea That came in Neptune's plea; He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds, And sage Hippotades their answer brings, 77 touch'd] Virg. Ecl. vi. 3. -Cynthius aurem Peck. 79 foil] See Shakes. Henry IV. act i. s. 2. Warton. 90 00 95 85 fountain] Hom. Od. xiii. 408. Kohvn Agɛlovơn. Virg. Ecl. x. 4. Æn. iii. 694. Warton. 87 higher] 'I'll tune my reed unto a higher key.' Browne's Brit. Past. iv. 41. 93 question'd] And question'd each wind that came that way.' Beaumont's Psyche, C. xviii. st. 56. 96 Hippotades] Æolus, the son of Hippotas, Hom. Od. x. 2. Ap. Rh. iv. 819. Ovid. Ep. ex Ponto, iv. x. 15, and elsewhere. Warton. That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd; Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, The pilot of the Galilean lake; Two massy keys he bore of metals twain, (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain) He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake; 100 105 110 How well could I have spar'd for thee, young swain, Enow of such as for their bellies' sake 99 Panope] Alciphron Ep. lib. i. xix. 74. ed. Bergler. 103 reverend] One brought a reverend syre! Whiting's Albino and Bellama, p. 5. 109 Galilean] Who on the troubled Galilean Lake." 110 Two] Hen. More's Poems, p. 322. 'In either hand she held a massie key, . The one of beaten burnish'd gold, ... Beaumont's Psyche, c. xvi. st. 140, and 141. 110 keys] Fletcher's Purple Island, c. vii. 62. 'Not in his lips, but hands two keys he bore, and Dante Paradiso, v. 57. E della chiave.' 115 [hold 121 Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold? Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more. 125 130 115 climb] 'Crept into the fold.' Prose Works, ii. 381, ed. Symmons. 121 herdman's] Milton writes it 'herdsman,' in his MS. 'Herdman,' is used in our transl. of the Bible, Amos i. 1. Todd. Stridenti miserum stipulà dispendere carmen.' Newton. 125 sheep] See Past. Ægl. by L. B. ver. 130, on Sir P. Sidney's death. 'Unhappie flock! that wander scattred now, What marvell if through grief ye woxen leane, Whose parting hath of weale bereft you cleane.' 130 two-handed] Yet, maie the ax stande next the dore.' Sir T. Smith's Psalms. Restituta. iv. 189. |