No lambs or sheep for victims I'll impart,
Thy victim, Love, shall be the shepherd's heart.

STREPHON.

Me gentle Delia beckons from the plain, Then hid in shades, eludes her eager swain. But feigns a laugh, to see me search around, And by that laugh the willing fair is found.

DAPHNIS.

The sprightly Sylvia trips along the green, She runs, but hopes she does not unseen; While a kind glance at her pursuer flies, How much at variance are her feet and eyes.

STREPHON.

O'er golden sands let rich Pactolus flow, And trees weep amber on the banks of Po;1 Blessed Thames's shores the brightest beauties yield, Feed here my lambs, I'll seek no distant field.

DAPHNIS.

Celestial Venus haunts Idalia's groves;
Diana Cynthus, Ceres Hybla loves;

If Windsor shades delight the matchless maid,
Cynthus and Hybla yield to Windsor shade.

STREPHON.

All nature mourns,' the skies relent in show'rs, Hushed are the birds, and closed the drooping flow'rs; If Delia smile, the flow'rs begin to spring, The skies to brighten, and the birds to sing.

DAPHNIS.

All nature laughs, the groves are fresh and fair, The sun's mild lustre warms the vital air;

If Sylvia smiles, new glories gild the shore,
And vanquished nature seems to charm no more.

1 Phaeton's sisters, being at his death changed into poplars, shed tears, which, according to the classical fable, were turned to drops pf amber.

2 Virgil, Ecl, vii. :

Aret ager, vitio moriens sitit aeris herba, &c.

Phyllidis adventu nostræ nemus imne virebit."-Pope,

STREPHON.

In spring the fields, in autumn hills I love
At morn the plains, at noon the shady grove,
'But Delia always; absent from her sight,
Nor plains at morn, nor groves at noon delight.

DAPHNIS.

Sylvia's like autumn ripe, yet mild as May, More bright than noon, yet fresh as early day; Ev'n spring displeases, when she shines not here; But blest with her, 'tis spring throughout the year.

STREPHON.

Say, Daphnis, say, in what glad soil appears, A wondrous tree that sacred monarchs bears;1 Tell me but this, and I'll disclaim the prize, And give the conquest to thy Sylvia's eyes.

DAPHNIS.

Nay tell me first, in what more happy fields
The thistle springs, to which the lily yields;"
And then a nobler prize I will resign;
For Sylvia, charming Sylvia, shall be thine.

DAMON.

Cease to contend, for, Daphnis, I decree The bowl to Strephon, and the lamb to thee. Blest swains, whose nymphs in ev'ry grace excel; Blest nymphs, whose swains those graces sing so well! Now rise, and haste to yonder woodbine bow'rs, A soft retreat from sudden vernal show'rs, The turf with rural dainties shall be crowned, While op'ning blooms diffuse their sweets around. For see, the gath'ring flocks to shelter tend, And from the Pleiads fruitful show'rs descend.

1 An allusion to the royal oak, in which Charles II. had been hid from the pursuit after the battle of Worcester.-Pope.

2 The two riddles are in imitation of those in Virg. Ecl. III.: "Dic quibus in terris inscripti nomina regum Nascantur flores, et Phyllida solus habeto." The thistle is the emblem of Scotland: the fleur-de-lis, or lily of France,

SUMMER.

THE SECOND PASTORAL; OR, ALEXIS.

TO DR. GRATH,1
1

A SHEPHERD'S boy (he seeks no better name)
Led forth his flocks along the silver Thame,
Where dancing sunbeans on the waters played,2
And verdant alders formed a quiv'ring shade.
Soft as he mourned, the streams forgot to flow,
The flocks around a dumb compassion show,
The Naiads wept in ev'ry wat'ry bow'r,
And Jove consented3 in a silent shower.
Accept, O Garth, the muse's early lays,
That adds this wreath of ivy to the bays;
Hear what from love unpractised hearts endure,
From love, the sole disease thou canst not cure.
Ye shady beeches, and ye cooling streams,
Defence from Phoebus', not from Cupid's beams,
To you I mourn, not to the deaf I sin,*

995

"The woods shall answer, and their echoes ring.'
The hills and rocks attend my doleful lay,
Why art thou prouder and more hard than they?
The bleating sheep with my complaints agree,
They parched with heat, and I inflamed with thee.
The sultry Sirius burns the thirsty plains,
While in thy heart eternal reigns.

Where stray ye, muses, in what lawn or grove,

6

1 Dr. Samuel Garth, author of the " Dispensary," was one of the first friends of the author, whose acquaintance with him began at fourteen or fifteen. Their friendship continued from the year 1703 to 1718, which was that of his death.-Pope.

2 The scene of this pastoral is by the river's side; suitable to the heat of the season; the time noon.-Pope.

3

Pope.

'Jupiter et læto descendet plurimus imbri."-Virg. Ecl. VII.

4 "Non canimus surdis, respondent omnia sylvæ."-Virg. Ecl. X. -Pope.

Á line from Spencer's" Epithalamion.-Pope.

"Quæ nemora, aut qui vos saltus habuere, puellæ.
Naiades, indigno cum Gallus amore periret?

Nam neque Parnassi vobis juga, nam neque Pindi.
Ulla moram fecere, neque Aonia Aganippe,”

Virg. Ecl, X, 9, out of Theocr.--Pope.

While your Alexis pines in hopeless love?
In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides,
Or else where Cam his winding vales divides?
As in the crystal spring I view my face,'
Fresh rising blushes paint the wat❜ry glass;
But since those graces please thy eyes no more,
I shun the fountains which I sought before.
Once I was skilled in ev'ry herb that grew,
And ev'ry plant that drinks the morning dew;
Ah, wretched shepherd, what avails thy art,
To cure thy lambs, but not to heal thy heart!
Let other swains attend the rural care,
Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces shear :
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
Inspired when living, and bequeathed in death.
He said; Alexis, take this pipe, the same
That taught the groves my Rosalinda's name:
But now the reeds shall hang on yonder tree,
For ever silent, since despised by thee.
Oh! were I made by some transforming pow'r
The captive bird that sings within thy bow'r!
Then might my voice thine list'ning ears employ,
And I those kisses he receives, enjoy.

And yet my numbers please the rural throng, Rough satyrs dance, and Pan* applauds the song: The nymphs, forsaking 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 bestowed again. For you the swains the fairest flow'rs design And in one garland all their beauties join; Accept the wreath which you deserve alone, In whom all beauties are comprised in one.

1 Virgil again (Ecl. II.) from the "Cyclops" of Theocritus,
"nuper me in littore vidi

Cum placidum ventis staret mare, non ego Daphnim,
Judice te, metuam, si nunquam fallit imago."-Pope.

2 The name taken by Spencer in his "Eclogues," where his mistress is celebrated under that of Rosalinda.—Pope.

3" Est mihi disparibus septem compacta cicutis.

Fistula, Damotas dono mihi quam dedit olim,

Et dixit moriens, te nunc habet ist a secundum."--Virg. Ecl. II.

4 Pan was the god of Shepherds.

See what delights in sylvan scenes appear!
Descending gods have found Elysium here.'
In woods bright Venus with Adonis strayed,
And chaste Diana haunts the forest shade.
Come, lovely nymph, and bless the silent hours,
When swains from shearing seek their nightly bow'rs,
When weary reapers quit the sultry field,

And crowned with corn their thanks to Ceres yield.
This harmlese grove no lurking viper hides,
But in my breast the serpent love abides.
Here bees from blossoms sip the rosy dew,
But your Alexis knows no sweets but you.
Oh, deign to visit our forsaken seats,
The mossy fountains, and the green retreats!
Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade;
Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade;
Where'er you tread, the blushing flow'rs shall rise,
And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
Oh! how I long with you to pass my days,
Invoke the muses, and resound your praise!
Your praise the birds shall chant in ev'ry grove,"
And winds shall waft it to the powers above,3
But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain,
The won'dring forests soon should dance again;
The moving mountains hear the pow'rful call,
And headlong streams hang list'ning in their fall!
But see, the shepherd s shun the noonday heat,
The lowing herds to murm'ring brooks retreat,
To closer shades the panting flocks remove;
Ye gods! and is there no relief for love?
But soon the sun with milder rays descends
To the cool ocean, where his journey ends.
On me love's fiercer flames forever prey,
By night he scorches, as he burns by day.

1 Virg. Ecl. II.:

Ecl. X..

"habitarunt dii quoque sylvas."

"Et formosus oves ad flumina pavit Adonis."-Pope. 2 Your praise the tuneful birds to heaven shall bear, And listening wolves grow milder as they hear.

So the verses were originally written. But the author, young as he was, soon found the absurdity which Spencer himself overlooked, of introducing wolves into England.-Pope.

3 Virg. Ecl. III.:

"Partem aliquam, venti, divum referatis ad aures."-Pope.

4 Virg. Ecl. II. :

"Me tamen usit amor, quis enim modus adsit amori?”—Pope,