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Whose fense instructs us, and whose humour charms,
Whofe judgment sways us, and whose spirit warms!
Oh, skill'd in Nature ! see the hearts of Swains,
Their artless passions, and their tender pains.
Now setting Phæbus shone serenely bright,
And fleecy clouds were streak’d with purple light;
When tuneful Hylas with melodicus moan, 15
Taught rocks to weep and made the mountains groan.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs av
To Delia's ear, the tender notes convey.
As some fad Turtle his lost love deplores,
And with deep murmurs fills the founding shores;
Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I mourn, 21
Alike unheard, unpity'd, and forlorn.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along!
For her, the feather'd quires neglect their song:
For her, the limes their pleasing shades deny ; 25
For her, the lillies hang their heads and die.
Ye flow'rs that droop, forsaken by the spring,
Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing..
Ye trees that fade when autumn-heats remove,
Say, is not absence death to those who love? 30

Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away;
Curs'd be the fields that caus'd my Delia's ftay;
Fade ev'ry bloffom, wither ev'ry tree,
Die ev'ry flow'r, and perifh all, but the.
What have I said? where'er my Delia fies, 35
Let spring attend, and sudden flow'rs arise;
Let op'ning roses knotted oaks adorn,
And liquid amber drop from ev'ry thorn,

VER. 37

Aurea dura


Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along ! The birds shall cease to tune their ev'ning song, 46 The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move, And streams to murmur, e'er I cease to love: Not bubling fountains to the thirsty fwain, Not balmy sleep to lab’rers faint with pain, Not show'rs to larks, or fun-fhine to the bee, 45 Are half so charming as thy fight to me.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away ! Come, Delia, come ; ah why this long delay ? Thro’ rocks and caves the name of Delia sounds, Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds. 50 Ye pow’rs, what pleasing frenzy fooths my mind! Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind? She comes, my Delia comes !--Now cease my lay, And cease, ye gales, to'bear my fighs away!

Next Ægon sung, while Windsor groves admir'd; ; Rehearse, ye Muses, what yourselves inspir’d. ,

56 Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strain! Of perjur'd Doris, dying I complain :



Ver. 48. Originally thus in the MS.

With him thro’ Libya's burning plains I'll go,
On Alpine mountains tread th' eternal snow;
Yet feel no heat but what our loves impart,
And dread no coldness but in Thyrsis' heart.

Mala ferant quercus ; narciso floreat alnus,

Pinguir corticibus fudent eletira myrica. Virg. Ecl. viii. P. Ver. 43, etc.)

Quale sopor felis in gramine, quale per allum

Duleis oquæ saliente fitim resiinguere rivo. Ecl. v. P. VER:52. An qui amant, ipfi fibi fomnio fingunt? Id. viii. P.

Here where the mountains less'ning as they rise
Lose the low vales, and steal into the skies: 60
While lab'ring oxen, spent with toil and heat,
In their loose traces from the field retreat:
While curling smoaks from village-tops are seen,
And the fleet shades glide o'er the dusky green.

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay! 65
Beneath yon' poplar oft we past the day :
Oft on the rind I cary'd her am'rous vows,
While she with garlands hung the bending boughs :
The garlands fade, the vows are worn away ;
So dies her love, and so my hopes decay. 70

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strain!
Now bright Arcturus glads the teeming grain,
Now golden fruits on loaded branches shine,
And grateful clusters swell with floods of wine;
Now blushing berries paint the yellow grove; 75
Just Gods ! shall all things yield returns but love?

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay!
The shepherds cry,

“ Thy flocks are left a prey-
Ah! what avails it me, the flocks to keep,
Who lost my heart while I preserv'd my sheep. 80
Pan came, and ask'd, what magic caus’d my smart,
Or what ill eyes malignant glances dart?
What eyes but hers, alas, have pow'r to move!
And is there magic but what dwells in love?

84 Resound,

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Ver. 74. And grateful clufiers, etc.] The scene is in
Windsor-foreft. So this image not so exact.

VER. 82. Or what ill eyes]
Nefcio quis teneros oculus mibi fofiinat agnos. P.


Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strains ! I'll fly from shepherds, flocks, and flow'ry plains. From shepherds, flocks, and plains, I may remove, Forsake mankind, and all the world - but love! I know thee, Love! on foreign Mountains bred, Wolves gave thee fuck, and savage Tigers fed. 90 Thou wert from Ætna's burning entrails torn, Got by fierce whirlwinds, and in thunder born!

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay! Farewell, ye woods, adieu the light of day! One leap from yonder cliff shall end my pains, 95 No more, ye hills, no more resound


strains ! Thus sung the shepherds till th’approach of night, The skies yet blushing with departing light, When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade, And the low sun had lengthen’d ev'ry shade.



VER. 98, 100.) There is a little inaccuracy here; the fult line makes the time after sun-set; the second, before.

IMITATIONS. Ver. 89. Nunc fcio quid fit Amor : duris in cotibus illum, etc,



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HYRSIS, the music of that murm’ring spring

Is not so mournful as the strains you sing.
Nor rivers winding thro' the vales below,
So sweetly warble, or so smoothly flow.


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Winter.] This was the Poet's favourite Pastoral.

Mrs. Tempef.] This Lady was of an ancient family in Yorkshire, and particularly admired by the Author's friend Mr. Walsh, who, having celebrated her in a Pastoral Ele. gy, desired his friend to do the same, as appears from one of his Letters, dated Sept. 9, 1706. “ Your last-Eclogue

“ being IMITATIONS. Ver. 1. Thyrsis, the music, etc.]

'Adó ti, etc. Theocr. Id. i.

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