THE

BEAUT

OF

IES

P O PE.

PASTORAL POETRY.

A PASTORAL is an imitation of the action of

a fhepherd, or one confidered under that character. The form of this imitation is dramatic, or narrative, or mixed of both; the fable fimple, the manners not too polite nor too ruftic: the thoughts are plain, yet admit a little quickness and passion, but that short and flowing: the expreffion humble, yet as pure as the language will afford; neat, but not florid; eafy, and yet lively. In short, the fable, manners, thoughts, and expreffions, are full of the greatest fimplicity in nature.

The complete character of this poem confifts in fimplicity, brevity, and delicacy; the two first of which render an eclogue natural, and the last delightful.

A DISCOURSE ON PASTORAL
POETRY, Vol. 1.

B

page 4.

Yet

Yet it is not fufficient that the fentences only be brief, the whole eclogue fhould be fo too: for we cannot suppose poetry in thofe days to have been the business of men, but their recreation at vacant hours.

IBID. P. 5.

We must therefore use fome illufion to render a paftoral delightful; and this confifts in expofing the best fide only of a fhepherd's life, and in concealing its miferies. Nor is it enough to introduce fhepherds difcourfing together in a natural way; but a regard muft be had to the fubject; that it contain fome particular beauty in itself, and that it be different in every eclogue. Befides, in each of them a defigned fcene or profpect is to be prefented to our view, which fhould likewife have its variety. This variety is obtained in a great degree by frequent comparisons, drawn from the most agreeable objects of the country; by interrogations to things inanimate; by beautiful digreffions, but those short; fometimes by infifting a little on circumftances; and, laftly, by elegant turns on the words, which render the numbers extremely fweet and pleafing. As for the numbers themselves, though they are properly of the heroic measure, they should be the fmootheft, the moft eafy and flowing imaginable.

IBID. P. 5.

THE

y be

we

een

ant

a

g

THE SHEPHERD'S LAMENTATION.
A Shepherd's Boy (he feeks no better name).
Eed forth his flocks along the filver Thame,
Where dancing fun-beams on the waters play'd,
And verdant alders form'd a quiv'ring fhade..
Soft as he mourn'd, the ftreams forgot to flow,
The flocks around a dumb compaffion show,
The Naiads wept in ev'ry wat'ry bow'r,
And Jove confented in a filent show'r.

* SUMMER, V. I. p. 16.

Ye fhady beeches, and ye cooling ftreams,"
Defence from Phabus', not from Cupid's beams.
To you I mourn; nor to the deaf I fing;
The woods fhall anfwer, and their echo ring.
The hills and rocks attend my doleful lay:
Why art thou prouder and more hard than they?
The bleating heep with my complaints agree,
They parch'd with heat, and I inflam'd by thee.
The fultry Sirius burns the thirsty plains,
While in thy heart eternal winter reigns.

IBID. p. 17.

ÆGON'S SONG.

NEXT Egon fung, while Windfor groves admir'd; Rehearfe, ye Mufes, what yourfelves infpir'd..

Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful ftrain! Of perjur'd Doris, dying I complain;

Here where the mountains, lefs'ning as they rife,
Lofe the low vales, and fteal into the fkies;
While lab'ring oxen, fpent with toil and heat,
In their loofe traces from the field retreat;
While curling fmokes from village-tops are feen,
And the fleet fhades glide o'er the dusky green.
AUTUMN, V. I. p. 23.

THE DEATH OF DAPHNE.

THYR SIS.

YE gentle Mufes, leave your crystal spring; Let Nymphs and Sylvans cyprefs garlands bring: Ye weeping Loves, the ftream with myrtles hide, And break your bows as when Adonis died; And with your golden darts, now ufelefs grown, 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 glaries 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!

WINTER, V. I. p. 26.

MES

as they rife,

kies;

nd heat,

eat;

are feen,

y green.

-P. 23.

E.

ing;

bring:

s hide,

-Own,

lore,

e!"

ar,

NO more the rifing Sun fhall gild the morn,
Nor ev'ning Cynthia fill her filver horn;
But loft, diffolv'd in thy fuperior rays,
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze,
O'erflow thy courts: the Light himself shall shine
Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine!
The feas fhall wafte, the skies in smoke decay,
Rocks fall to duft, and mountains melt away.;
But fix'd his word, his faving power remains ;
Thy realm for ever lafts, thy own Messiah reigns!
MESSIAH, V. I. p. 36.

WINDSOR FOREST.

THE groves of Eden, vanish'd now fo long,
Live in defcription, and look green in fong:
Thefe, were my breaft infpir'd with equal flame,
Like them in beauty, fhould be like in fame..
Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain,
Here earth and water feem to ftrive again;.
Not, chaos-like, together crush'd and bruis'd,
But, as the world, harmoniously confus'd,
Where order in variety we fee,

And where, though all things differ, all agree.
Here waving groves a chequer'd fcene display,
And part admit, and part exclude the day;
As fome coy nymph her lover's warm addrefs
Nor quite indulges, nor can quite reprefs,