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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 praife!


Behold the groves that shine with filver froft,
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.



So may kind rains their vital moisture yield,
And fyell the future harveft of the field.
Begin; this charge the dying Daphne gave,
And faid, "Ye fhepherds, fing around my grave!"



VER. 13. Thames beard, etc.]

Audiit Eurotas, juffitque edifcere lauros. Virg.



his friend to do the fame, as appears from one of his Letters, dated Sept. 9, 1706. "Your laft Eclogue being on the fame subject 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.

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Sing, while befide the shaded tomb I mourn,
And with fresh bays her rural shrine adorn.


Ye gentle Mufes, leave your crystal spring, Let Nymphs and Sylvans cyprefs garlands bring; Ye weeping Loves, the stream with myrtles hide, And break your bows as when Adonis dy'd; And with your golden darts, now useless grown, 25 Infcribe a verfe on this relenting stone: "Let nature change, let heav'n and earth deplore, "Fair Daphne's dead, and love is now no more! 'Tis done, and nature's various charms decay, See gloomy clouds obfcure the chearful day! Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear, Their faded honours fcatter'd on her bier. See, where on earth the flow'ry glories lie, With her they flourish'd, and with her they die. Ah what avail the beauties nature wore? Fair Daphne's dead, and beauty is no more! For her the flocks refuse their verdant food, The thirsty heifers fhun the gliding flood,



VER. 29. Originally thus in the MS.

'Tis done, and nature's chang'd fince you are gone;
Behold the clouds have put their Mourning on.


VER. 23, 24, 25.


Inducite fontibus umbras

Et tumulum facite, et tumulo fuperaddite carmen.


The filver fwans her hapless fate bemoan,


In notes more fad than when they fing their own;
In hollow caves fweet Echo filent lies,
Silent, or only to her name replies;
Her name with pleasure once she taught the shore,
Now Daphne's dead, and pleafure is no more!

No grateful dews defcend from ev'ning fkies, 45
Nor morning odours from the flow'rs arise;
No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field,
Nor fragrant herbs their native incense yield.
The balmy Zephyrs, filent fince her death,
Lament the ceafing of a sweeter breath;
Th' induftrious bees neglect their golden ftore!
Fair Daphne's dead, and sweetness is no more!
No more the mounting larks, while Daphne


Shall lift'ning in mid air fufpend their wings;
No more the birds fhall imitate her lays,
Or hufh'd with wonder, hearken from the sprays:
No more the ftreams their murmurs fhall forbear,
A fweeter mufic than their own to hear,
But tell the reeds, and tell the vocal fhore,
Fair Daphne's dead, and mufic is no more!

Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze,
And told in fighs to all the trembling trees;
į The trembling trees, in ev'ry plain and wood,



Her fate remurmur to the filver flood;
The filver flood, fo lately calm, appears
Swell'd with new paffion, and o'erflows with tears;


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