WINTER: THE FOURTH PASTORAL, OR DAPHNE. TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. TEMPEST. LYCIDA S. THYRSIS, the mufic of that murm'ring spring now REMARKS. WINTER.] This was the Poet's favourite Paftoral. 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 his friend to do the fame, as appears from one of his Letters, dated IMITATIONS. Sept VER. 1. Thirfis, the mufic, &c.] Adú T, &c. Theocr. Id. i. *On lately reading Mr. Walsh's Preface to Dryden's tranflation of Virgil's Eclogues, I was convinced he had a greater share of learning than he is ufually allowed to poffefs. His strictures on the French language and manners, and on Fontenelle's affected and unnatural Eclogues, as well as on his vain attempt to depreciate the Ancients, are very folid and judicious. To what he has faid of Virgil may be added, that one of the most natural ftrokes in all his Eclogues, is the fhepherd's reckoning his years by the fucceffion of his loves; Poftquam nos Amaryllis habet This paftoral chronology is much in character. Now fleeping flocks on their foft fleeces lie, THYRS IS, Behold the groves that shine with filver frost, That call'd the lift'ning Dryads to the plain? So LYCIDA S. may kind rains their vital moisture yield, And fwell the future harvest of the field. Begin; this charge the dying Daphne gave, 5 10 15 20 Ye REMARKS. Sept. 9, 1706. "Your laft Eclogue being on the fame fubjec with mine, on Mrs. Tempeft's death, I should take it 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. POPE. I do not find any lines that allude to the great ftorm of which the Poet speaks. VER. 13. Thames heard, &c.] WARTON. IMITATIONS. "Audiit Eurotas, juffitque edifcere lauros." Virg. P. THYRSIS. Ye gentle Mufes, leave your crystal spring, Let Nymphs and Sylvans cypress garlands bring, Ye weeping Loves, the ftream with myrtles hide, And break your bows, as when Adonis dy'd ; And with your golden darts, now ufelefs grown, 25 Inscribe a verse 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! 30 Now VARIATIONS. VER. 29. Originally thus in the MS. 'Tis done, and nature chang'd fince you are gone; REMARK S, WARBURTON, VER. 21. Let Nymphs and Sylvans, &c.] This line recalls a pathetic little ballad, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Maid's Tragedy; Lay a garland on my hearfe Of the difmal yew, Maidens, willow branches bear, Say I died true. My love was falfe, but I was true, From my hour of birth: Upon my buried body lie Softly, gentle earth! VER. 31. Now hung with pearls, Sc.] "And hung a pearl in every cowfiip's ear." Mid-fummer Night's Dream.-STEVENS IMITATIONS. VER, 23, 24, 25 "Inducite fontibus umbras Et tumulum facite, et tumulo fuperaddite carmen." P. Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear, Fair Daphne's dead, and beauty is no more! In notes more fad than when they fing their own; Her name with pleasure once she taught the fhore, No grateful dews defcend from ev'ning skies, Nor morning odours from the flow'rs arise; 35 41 45 No REMARKS. VER. 41. Sweet Echo] This expreffion of fweet Echo is taken from Comus; as is another expreffion, loofe traces, Third Past. v. 62. And he recommends these poems in high terms to Sir W. Trumball (fee the Letters) fo early as the year 1704. VE. 41. In hollow caves fweet Echo filent lies] WARTON. "The cave where echo lies " Romeo and Juliet. STEVENS, Sweet Echo, fweetest nymph, that liv'dst unseen. Oh if thou have, Hid them in fome flow'ry cave, Αχω δ' εν πέτρησιν οδύρεται, οττι σιωπη, Κεκετι μιμείται τα σα χείλεα. COMUS. Compare Mofchus's beautiful Epitaphium Bionis. "Echo mourns amid the rocks, that he must now be filent, nor ever imitate again thy lips." 1 No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field, Th' industrious bees neglect their golden ftore! No more the mounting larks, while Daphne fings, Or hush'd with wonder, hearken from the sprays: Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze, 55 ба The trembling trees, in ev'ry plain and wood, Her fate remurmur to the filver flood; The filver flood, fo lately calm, appears 65 Swell'd with new paffion, and o'erflows with tears; But REMARKS. VER. 54. Here the circumstances of the lark fufpending its wings in mid-air, is highly beautiful, because the image is distinct, and there is a veri-fimilitudo in it, which is not the cafe where a waterfall is made to be fufpended by the power of Mufic. VER. 61. &c. Her fate is whispered] All this is very poor, and unworthy Pope. First, the breeze whispers the death of Daphne to the trees; then the trees inform the flood of it; then the flood "o'erflows |