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The fultry Sirius burns the thirsty plains,
While in thy heart eternal winter reigns.

Where stray ye Muses, in what lawn or grove,
While your Alexis pines in hopeless love?
In those fair fields where facred Ifis glides,

Or else where Cam his winding vales divides?
As in the cryftal fpring I view my face,
Fresh rifing blushes paint the wat'ry glass;
But fince those graces please thy eyes no more,
I fhun the fountains which I fought before.
Once I was fkill'd in ev'ry herb that grew,
And ev'ry plant that drinks the morning dew;
Ah wretched fhepherd, what avails thy art,
To cure thy lambs, but not to heal thy heart!

VER. 27.


Oft in the crystal spring I caft a view,

And equal'd Hylas, if the glass be true;

But fince thofe graces meet my eyes no more,

I fhun, etc.


VER. 23. Where ftray ye Mufes, etc.]


Quæ nemora, aut qui vos faltus habuere, puellæ
Naïdes, indigno cum Gallus amore periret?

Nam neque Parnaffi vobis juga, nam neque Pindi

Ulla moram fecere, neque Aonia Aganippe.



Virg. out of Theocr. P. VER. 27. Virgil again from the Cyclops of Theocritus,

nuper me in littore vidi,

Cum placidum ventis ftaret mare; non ego Daphnim,
Judice te, metuam, fi nunquam fallat imago, P,

Let other fwains attend the rural care,

Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces fheer:


But nigh yon' mountain let me tune my lays,
Embrace my Love, and bind my
brows with bays.
That flute is mine which Colin's tuneful breath
Inspir'd when living, and bequeath'd in death :
He faid; Alexis, take this pipe, the fame
That taught the groves my Rofalinda's name :
But now the reeds shall hang on yonder tree,
For ever filent, fince defpis'd by thee.
Oh! were I made by fome transforming pow'r
The captive bird that fings within thy bow'r!
Then might my voice thy lift'ning ears employ,
And I thofe kiffes he receives enjoy.

And yet my

yet my numbers please the rural throng, Rough Satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the fong: 59 The Nymphs, forfaking ev'ry cave and spring, Their early fruit, and milk-white turtles bring! Each am'rous nymph prefers her gifts in vain, On you their gifts are all beftow'd again.


VER. 39. Colin] The name taken by Spenfer in his Eclogues, where his mistress is celebrated under that of Rofalinda. P. IMITATIONS.

VER. 40. bequeath'd in death; etc.] Virg. Ecl. ii.
Eft mihi difparibus feptem compacta cicutis
Fiftula, Damoetas dono mihi quam dedit olim,

Et dixit moriens, Te nunc habet ifta fecundum. P.

For you the fwains the fairest flow'rs defign, 55
And in one garland all their beauties join;
Accept the wreath which you deferve alone,
In whom all beauties are compriz'd in one.

See what delights in fylvan fcenes appear!
Descending Gods have found Elyfium here.
In woods bright Venus with Adonis ftray'd,
And chafte Diana haunts the forest-shade.
Come, lovely nymph, and bless the filent hours,
When fwains from sheering feek their nightly



weary reapers quit the fultry field, And crown'd with corn their thanks to Ceres yield.. This harmless grove no lurking viper hides, But in my breast the serpent Love abides.

Here bees from bloffoms fip the rofy dew, But Alexis knows no fweets but you. your

Oh deign to visit our forfaken seats,

The moffy fountains, and the green retreats!


Where'er you walk, cool gales fhall fan the glade, Trees, where you fit, fhall croud into a shade:


VEE, 60. Defcending Gods have found Elyfium here.]
Habitarunt Dî quoque fylvas- Virg.

Et formofus oves ad flumina pavit Adonis. Idem, P.

Where'er you tread, the blushing flow'rs fhall rife,
And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
Oh! how I long with you to pass my days,
Invoke the Muses, and refound your praise !
Your praise the birds shall chant in ev'ry grove,
And winds fhall waft it to the pow'rs above. 80
But would you fing, and rival Orpheus' strain,
The wond'ring forefts foon should dance again,
The moving mountains hear the pow'rful call,
And headlong ftreams hang lift'ning in their fall!

But fee, the shepherds fhun the noon-day heat,
The lowing herds to murm'ring brooks retreat, 86
To closer shades the panting flocks remove;
Ye Gods! and is there no relief for Love?

VER. 79, 80.


Your praise the tuneful birds to heav'n fhall bear,
And lift'ning wolves grow milder as they hear.

So the verfes were originally written. But the author, young as he was, foon found the abfurdity which Spenfer himself overlooked, of introducing wolves into England. P.


Ver. 80. And winds fhall waft, etc.]

Partem aliquam, venti, divûm referatis ad aures!

VER. 88. Ye Gods! etc.]

Virg. P.

Idem. P.

Me tamen urit amor, quis enim modus adfit amori?

But foon the fun with milder

rays defcends

To the cool ocean, where his journey ends: 90
On me love's fiercer flames for ever prey,
By night he scorches, as he burns by day.


VER. O1. Me love inflames, nor will his fires allay. P.

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