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Thro' rocks and caves the name of Delia founds,
Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds. 50
Ye pow'rs, what pleafing frenzy fooths my mind!
Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind?
She comes, my Delia comes!-Now cease my lay,
And ceafe, ye gales, to bear my fighs away!

Next Ægon fung, while Windfor groves admir'd; Rehearse, ye Mufes, what yourselves inspir'd.

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Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful strain! Of perjur'd Doris, dying I complain: Here where the mountains, lefs'ning as they rife, Lose the low vales, and steal into the skies; While lab'ring oxen, fpent with toil and heat, In their loofe traces from the field retreat: While curling fmoaks from village-tops are seen, And the fleet fhades glide o'er the dusky green. Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful lay! 65 Beneath yon' poplar oft we paft the day: Oft' on the rind I carv'd her am'rous vows, While fhe with garlands hung the bending boughs: The garlands fade, the vows are worn away; So dies her love, and fo my hopes decay.

Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful strain! Now bright Arcturus glads the teeming grain, Now golden fruits on loaded branches fhine, And grateful clusters fwell with floods of wine;

70

IMITATIONS.

VER. 52. An qui amant, ipfi fibi fomnia fingunt? Id. viii.

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Now blushing berries paint the yellow grove;
Juft Gods! fhall all things yield returns but love?
Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful lay!
Thy flocks are left a prey→

The shepherds cry,

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Ah! what avails it me, the flocks to keep,
Who lost my heart while I preferv'd my fheep. 80
Pan came, and ask'd, what magic caus'd

my fmart,

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

Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful ftrains! I'll fly from fhepherds, flocks, and flow'ry plains. From fhepherds, flocks, and plains, I may remove, Forfake mankind, and all the world-but love! I know thee, Love! on foreign mountains bred, Wolves gave thee fuck, and favage tigers fed. 90 Thou wert from Ætna's burning entrails torn, Got by fierce whirlwinds, and in thunder born! Refound, ye hills, refound 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 refound my strains! Thus fung the fhepherds till th'approach of night, The fkies yet blushing with departing light, When falling dews with fpangles deck'd the glade, And the low fun had lengthen'd ev'ry shade.

IMITATIONS.

VER. 82. Or what ill eyes]

Nefcio quis teneros oculus mihi fascinat agnos.

100

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

味香

WINTER.

THE

FOURTH PASTORAL,

OR

DA PHN E.

To the Memory of Mrs. TEMPEST.

T

LYCIDA S.

HYRSIS, the mufic of that murm'ring spring Is not fo mournful as the ftrains you fing. Nor rivers winding thro' the vales below, So fweetly warble, or fo fmoothly flow.

NOTES.

Mrs. Tempeft.] This Lady was of an ancient family in Yorkfhire, and particularly admired by the Author's friend Mr. Walsh, who, having celebrated her in a Paftoral Elegy, defired

IMITATIONS.

VER. I. Thyrfis, the mufic, etc.]
Adri, etc. Theocr. Idyl, i.

Now fleeping flocks on their soft fleeces lie,
The moon, ferene in glory, mounts the sky,
While filent birds forget their tuneful lays,
Oh fing of Daphne's fate, and Daphne's praise !

THYRS IS.

Behold the groves that shine with filver frost,
Their beauty wither'd, and their verdure lost.
Here fhall I try the sweet Alexis' strain,
That call'd the lift'ning Dryads to the plain?
Thames heard the numbers as he flow'd along,
And bade his willows learn the moving fong.

LYCIDA S.

So may kind rains their vital moisture yield, And fwell the future harveft of the field.

Begin; this charge the dying Daphne gave,

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And faid, "Ye fhepherds, fing around my grave!"

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NOTES.

his friend to do the fame, as appears from one of his Letters, dated Sept. 9, 1706. "Your laft Eclogue being on the fame fubject with mine on Mrs. Tempeft's death, I should take it 66 very kindly in you to give it a little turn, as if it were to "the memory of the fame lady." Her death having happened on the night of the great ftorm in 1703, gave a propriety to this eclogue, which in its general turn alludes to it. The scene of the Paftoral lies in a grove, the time at midnight.

IMITATIONS.

VER. 13. Thames heard, etc.]

Audiit Eurotas, juffitque cdifcere lauros. Virg. VOL. I.

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