ON THE PASTORALS.

OF the merit of thefe poems I can scarcely deem my

self an impartial judge. The Paftorals of Pope were
among the very firft writings that engaged the notice of
my infancy: and, if the reader will excufe this circum-
ftance of egotism, I read them with facility, with perse-
verance, and delight, at an earlier period than any one,
whom I have ever known or heard of. They have left
upon my mind the fading traces of a transport inexpreffi.
ble. Still difenchanted after a lapfe of fo many years, I
feel like Agamemnon in the poet, juft waking from the
dream of Jove:

Εγρετο δ' εξ ύπνε, θειη δε μιν αμφεχυτ' ομφη:
In Fancy's eye still scenes of rapture shine;
Still vibrates on her ear the voice divine.

PASTORAL I.

Ver. 1. First in these fields I try the fylvan ftrains,
Nor blush to sport on Windfor's blifsful plains.

Our poet seems to have confulted Dryden's verfion of
the place imitated here, Virg. Ecl. vi. 1.

I first transferr'd to Rome Sicilian strains :

Nor blush'd the Doric Mufe to dwell on Mantuan

plains.

B

Rofcommon

Rofcommon alfo, a terfe, judicious, unaffected, and moral writer, justly esteemed and celebrated by Pope, may be agreably compared on this occafion :

I first of Romans stoop'd to rural firains,

Nor blush'd to dwell among Sicilian swains.

Ver. 5. Let vernal airs through trembling ofiers play.

A beautiful paffage of this kind occurs in Paradise Regain'd, ii. 26.

Then on the bank of Jordan, by a creek,

Where winds with reeds and ofiers whifp'ring play

Ver. 7.

too good for pow'r.

A paffage in Lucan, viii. 493. is very appofite to this fentiment:

exeat aulâ,

Qui vult effe pius. Virtus et fumma poteftas
Non coëunt.

He, who would fpotless live, from courts must go
No union power fupreme and virtue know.

Ver. 16. And all th' aërial audience clap their wings.
Prior's Solomon.

And clapp'd their wings, recording what we faid. S.
Ver. 23. Hear how the birds, on every bloomy fpray,
With joyous mufic wake the dawning day!

Surry, in his Sonnet on Spring:

Somer is come, for every Spray now Springes.

Milton, Paradife Regain'd, iv. 437. in moft delicate ftrains

of the Doric Mufe:

the birds

Clear'd up their choiceft notes in bush and spray,
To gratulate the sweet return of morn.

And

And in his first fonnet, which Pope certainly had in view :
O! Nightingale, that on yon bloomy Spray
Warbleft at eve!

Some lines in Broome's Paraphrafe of Job xxxix. on a congenial subject, will be acceptable to the reader, who delights in the fragrance of these bloffoms of the Mufes : By thy command does fair Aurora rise,

And gild with purple beams the blushing fkies?
The warbling lark falutes her chearful ray,
And welcomes with his fong the rifing day.

Ver. 25. Why fit we mute, when early linnets fing;
When warbling Philomel falutes the spring?

He is indebted here to Waller's Chloris and Hylas; a paffage, pointed out also by Mr. White;

Hylas, oh Hylas! why fit we mute,

Now that each bird faluteth the spring?

Ver. 31. This verfe ftood thus in the first edition:
Here on green banks the blushing vi'lets glow.

Ver. 32. Here Western winds on breathing roses blow. Pope rarely mentions flowers without being guilty of fome mistake as to the feasons they blow in. Who ever faw rofes, crocuffes, and violets in bloom at the fame time? In the Dunciad, he calls the carnation, which never exhibits its bloffoms before the end of July, "The daughter "of the Spring." And this verse refembles Shakspeare's Twelfth Night :

Dryden, in his State of Innocence, Act iii. Scene 1.
And creeping 'twixt 'em all, the mantling vine
Does round their trunks her purple clufiers twine.

Ver. 37. Four figures rifing from the work appear.
So Dryden, Æn. viii. 830.

And Roman triumphs rifing on the gold.

Ver. 57. The fprightly Sylvia trips along the green; She runs, but hopes she does not run unseen;

While a kind glance at her purfuer flies.

He probably consulted Creech's translation of the original paffage in Virgil:

Sly Galatea drives me o'er the green,

And apples throws, then hides, yet would be feen. But fome lines in Dryden's Don Sebastian, pointed out by Mr. Steevens, were certainly present to our poet's recollection:

A brifk Arabian girl came tripping by:
Paffing, fhe caft at him a fidelong glance,
And look'd behind, in hopes to be pursued.

Ver. 62. And trees weep amber on the banks of Po.

This fweet line is indebted, perhaps, to Milton, Par. Loft, iv. 248.

Groves, whofe rich trees wept odorous gums and balm. Thus Hopkins in his Hiftory of Love:

With precious gums diftill'd from weeping trees.

The claffical reader will thank me for producing fome elegant verfes of Marius Victor, an author but little known, from his defcription of Paradise :

quod Medus redolet, vel crine foluto Fragrat Achæmenius, quod molli dives amomo Affyrius, meilisque rubens Mareotica nardo,

Quod Tarteffiaci frutices, quod virga Sabæi,
Quodque Palæftinus lacero flet vulnere ramus.

Ver. 67. If Windfor-shades d light the matchlefs maid,
Cynthus and Hybla yield to Windfor-fhade.

It is furprising, that correfpondence, which would have. been attended by a much more elegant conftruction, should not have led him to write Windfor-hade in the former verfe also. But I find no variation in any of the editions. Perhaps, the fimilar found in the fame line might deter him.

Ver. 73. All nature laughs; the groves are fresh and fair.

It stood in the first edition, and, I think, as well;

All nature laughs; the groves fresh honours wear.
It is probable, that our author had in view fome lines of
true Doric delicacy and most unaffected tenderness in
Dryden's State of Innocence, Act v. Scene 1. where
Adam thus addreffes Eve: od

What joy, without your fight, has earth in ftore?
While you were abfent, Eden was no more.

Winds murmur'd through the leaves your long delay,

And fountains o'er the pebbles chid your stay.

But, with your prefence cheer'd, they ceafe to

mourn,

And walks wear fresher green at your return.

Ver. 75. If Sylvia fmiles, new glories gild the fhore,

And vanquifh'd Nature feems to charm no more.

This, in my opinion, is as fine a couplet of it's kind as

ever was written.

Ver. 79. I prefer much the reading of the first edition: