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S a fair Nymph, when rifing from her Bed,
With fparkling Diamonds dreffes no ther Head;
But without Gold, or Pearl, or coftly Scents,
Gathers from neighb'ring Fields her Ornaments:
Such, lovely in its Drefs, but plain withal,
Ought to appear a perfect Paftoral:

Its humble Method nothing has of fierce,
But hates the rattling of a lofty Verfe:
There, native Beauty pleases, and excites,
And never with harsh Sounds the Ear affrights.
But in this Stile a Poet often spent,

In Rage throws by his rural Inftrument,

And vainly, (when diforder'd Thoughts abound,)
Amidft the Eclogue makes the Trumpet found:
Pan flies, alarm'd, into the neighb'ring Woods.
And frighted Naiads dive into the Floods.

Mr. Philips, who wrote his Paftorals before Mr. Pope, fays little concerning the Manner of writing, or of the Nature of this Sort of Poetry, which, for many Years before he took his rural Pipe in Hand, had been quite neglected; it is therefore, I think, a little ftrange, that on the Revival of pastoral Poetry in England, he fhould only say:

Tis ftrange to think, in an Age fo addicted to

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the Muses, how Paftoral Poetry comes to be never fo much as thought upon; confidering especially, that it has been always accounted the moft confiderable of the smaller Poems: Virgil and Spencer made ufe of it as a Prelude to heroick Poetry. But I fear the Innocency of the Subject makes it fo little inviting at present.

There is no Sort of Poetry, if well wrought, but gives Delight. And the Paftoral perhaps may boaft

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of this in a peculiar Manner: For, as in Painting, fo believe, in Poetry, the Country affords the moft entertaining Scenes, and most delightful Prospects.

Gaffendus, I remember, tells us, that Pierefkius was a great Lover of Mufick, especially that of Birds; because their artlefs Strains feem to have less of Paffion and Violence, but more of a natural Eafiness, and therefore do the rather befriend Contemplation. It is after the fame Manner that Paftoral gives a fweet and gentle Composure to the Mind ; whereas the Ethick and Tragick Poem put the Spirits in too great a Ferment by the Vehemence of their Motions.

To fee a ftately, well built Palace ftrikes us, indeed, with Admiration, and fwells the Soul, as it were, with Notions of Grandeur: But when I view a little Country Dwelling, advantagiously fituated amidst a beautiful Variety of Fields, Woods, and Rivers; I feel an unspeakable Kind of Satisfaction, and cannot forbear wifhing, that my good Fortune would place me in fo fweet a Retirement.

When Mr. Pope publish'd his, he was kinder to the Publick: Befides what we quoted in the Beginning of the firft Volume of this Work, he has wrote many Things worthy Notice, and what will be of great Help to future Writers, in this Kind of Poem." The Original of Poetry, fays Mr. Pope, is afcribed to that Age which fucceeded the Creation of the World; and as the Keeping of Flocks, seems to be the firft Employment of Mankind, the most antient Sort of Poetry, was probably Paftoral: 'Tis natural to imagine, that the Leifure of those antient Shepherds requiring fome Diversion, none was fo proper to that folitary Life, as finging, and that in their Songs, they took Occafion to celebrate their

own Felicity: From hence a Poem was invented, and afterwards improv'd to a perfect Image of that happy Time, which, by giving an Emblem of the Virtues of a former Age, might recommend them to the present; and fince the Life of Shepherds was attended with more Tranquility than any other rural Employment, the Poets chose to introduce their Perfons, from whom it receiv'd the Name of Pastoral.

If we could copy Nature, it may be useful to take this Confideration along with us, that Paftoral is an Image of what we call the Golden Age.

By this it is plain, that Mr. Pope esteem'd himself a Writer only of that Sort of Paftoral which painted the Golden Age. Mr. Gay, on the contrary, leaves that behind, and gives his Shepherds and Shepherdeffes a Turn altogether modern and natural, for which he artfully and properly prepares the Reader, in a masterly Manner, affecting Simplicity of Stile, and a Language a little older than what was us'd in his Time. Great Marvel hath it been, fays Mr. Gay, (and that not unworthily) to diverfe worthy Wits, that in this our Island of Britain, in all rare Sciences fo greatly abounding, more especially in all Kinds of Poefie highly flourishing, no Poet (though otherways of notable Cunning in Roundelays) hath hit on the right fimple Eclogue after the true ancient Guife of Theocritus, before this mine Attempt.

Other Poet travailing in this plain High-way of Pastoral know I none. Yet, certes, fuch it behoveth a Pastoral to be, as Nature in the Country affordeth ; and the Manners alfo meetly copied from the ruftical Folk therein. In this alfo my Love to my native Country Britain much pricketh me forward, to defcribe aright the Manners of our own honest and labourious Plough-men, in no wife fure more unworthy a British Poet's Imitation, than those of Sicily or ArVOL. II. K

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cadie; albeit, not ignorant I am, what a Rout and Rabblement of critical Gallimawfry hath been made of late Days by certain young Men of infipid Delicacy, conceruing, I wift not what, golden Age, and other outragious Conceits, to which they would confine Paftoral.

Verily, as little Pleafance receiveth a true homebred Taft, from all the fine finical new-fangled Fooleries of this gay Gothic Garniture, wherewith they fo nicely bedeck their Court Clowns, or clown Courtiers, (for, which to call them rightly, I wot not as would a prudent Citizen journeying to his Country Farms, fhould he find them occupied by People of this motley Make, inftead of plain downright hearty cleanly Folk; fuch as be now Tenants to the Burgeffes of this Realme.

Furthermore, it is my Purpose, gentle Reader, to fet before thee, as it were, a Picture, or rather lively Landscape of thy own Country, just as thou mighteft fee it, dideft thou take a Walk in the Fields at the proper Season.

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Thou wilt not find my Shepherdeffes idly piping on oaten Reeds, but milking the Kine, tying up Sheaves, or if the Hogs are aftray driving them to their Styes. My Shepherd gathereth none other Nofegays but what are the Growth of our own Fields, he fleepeth not under Myrtle Shades, but under a Hedge, nor doth he vigilantly defend his Flocks from Wolves, because there are none, as Maifter Spencer well obferveth.

Well is known that fince the Saxon King
Never was Wolf feen, many or fome
Nor in all Kent nor in Chriftendam.

For as much, as I have mentioned Maister Spencer, foothly I must acknowledge him a Bard of fweetest Memorial,

Memorial. Yet hath his Shepherd's Boy at fometimes raised his ruftick Reed to Rhimes more rumbling than rural. Diverfe grave Points alfo hath he handled of churchly Matter and Doubts in Religion daily arifing, to great Clerks only appertaining. What liketh me beft are his Names, indeed right fimple and meet for the Country, fuch as Lobbin, Cuddy, Hobbinol, Diggon, and others, fome of which I have made bold to borrow. Moreover, as he call'd his Eclogues, the Shepherd's Calender, and divided the fame into the twelve Months, I have chofen (peradventure not over rafhly) to name mine by the Days of the Week, omitting Sunday or the Sabbath, ours being fuppos'd to be chriftian Shepherds, and to be then at Church Worfhip. Yet further of many of Maifter Spencer's Eclogues it may be obferv'd; tho Months they be call'd, of the faid Months therein, nothing is fpecify'd; wherein I have alfo efteem'd him worthy mine Imitation.

And here, much Comfort arifeth in me, from the Hopes, in that I conceive, when thefe Words in the Course of tranfitory Things fhall decay, it may fo hap, in meet Time that fome Lover of Simplicity fhall arife, who fhall have the Hardiness to render thefe mine Eclogues into fuch more modern Dialect as fhall be then understood, to which End, Gloffes and Explications of uncouth paftoral Terms are annex'd.

In this Shepherd's Week, or Paftorals for fix Days, Mr. Pope had little Share, he having before declar'd, that Paftorals ought to be an Imitation of the golden Age, yet not entirely to abandon his Friend, he wrote a few Lines for him in the fifth Paftoral, call'd the Dirge; they exprefs the dying Words of Blouzelinda :