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Approach them, and you 'll feel a raging fire, And, though fo often it had fail'd;

Which scorches deep, and all your power disarms: Though vainless every heart aftail dj
Thus, like th' Arabian bird, your care proceeds Yet, lur'd by hope of new delight,
From the bright object which your pleasure breeds. It took again its fatal Night.

'Tis thus, malicious deity,
That thou hast banter'd wretched me;

Thus made me vainly lose my time,
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Thus fool away my youthful prime;

And yet, for all the hours I've lot, 1.

And fighs, and tears, thy bondage cost,
HOUGH Celia's born to be ador'd,

Ne'er did thy Nave thy favours bless,
And Strephon to adore her born,

Or crown his paffion with success.
In vain her pity is implor'd,

Well-fince 'tis doom'd that I must find Who kills him twice with charms and (corn.

No love for love from womankind;

Since I no pleasure must obtain,

Let me at least avoid the pain :
Fair saint, to your bleft orb repair,

So weary of the chace I'm grown, To learn in heaven a heavenly mind;

That with content I'd fit me down, Thence hearken to a finner's prayer,

Enjoy my book, my friend, my cell,
And be less beauteous, or more kind.

And bid all womankind farewel.
Nay, ask for all I felt before,
Only to be difturb'd no more

Yet thou (to my complainings deaf)

Wilt give my torments no relief;
But now, ev'n now, thou mak'it me die,

And love I know not whom, nor why,
HOU tyrant God of Love, give o'er,
And perfecute this breast no more :

In every part I feel the fire,

And burn with fanciful desire; Ah! tell me why must every dart

From whence can love its magic draw? Be aim'd at my unhappy heart?

I doat on her, I never saw :
I never murmur'd or repin'd,

And who, but lovers, can express
But patiently myself resign'd
To all the torments, which through thee

This strange, mysterious tenderness?

And yet methinks 'tis happier fo, Have fell, alas ! on wretched me :

Than whom it is I love to know : But oh! I can no more sustain

Now my unbounded notions rove, This long-continued ftate of pain,

And frame ideas to my love. Though 'tis but fruitless to complain.

I fancy I should something find,
My heart, first soften'd by thy power,

Diviner both in face and mind,
Ne'er kept its liberty an hour :
So fond and easy was it grown,

Than ever nature did bestow
Each nymph might call the fool her own :

On any creature here below.

I fancy thus Corinna walks, So much to its own interest blind,

That thus she sings, she looks, she talks So ftrangely charm'd to womankind,

Sometimes I figh, and fancy then, That it no more belong'd to me,

That, did Corinna know my pain, Than veftal-virgins hearts to thee.

Could the my trickling tears but see,
I often courted it to stay;

She would be kind and pity me.
But, deaf to all, 'twould fly away.
In vain to ftop it I essay'd,

Thus thinking I've no cause to grieve,
Though often, often, I display'd

I pleasingly myself deceive;

And sure am happier far than he The turns and doubles women made.

Who knows the very truth can be. Nay more, when it has home return'd,

Then, gentle Cupid, let me ne'er By some proud maid ill us'd and scorn'd,

See my imaginary fair : I still the renegade carest,

Left she should be more heavenly bright And gave it harbour in my breast.

Then can be reach'd by fancy's height; O! then, with indignation fir'd

Left (when I on her beauty gaze, At what before it so admir'd ;

Confounded, loft in an amaze ; With shame and sorrow overcast,

My trembling lips and eyes should tell, And sad repentance for the past,

"Tis her I dare to love so well); A thousand sacred oaths it sword

She, with an angry, scornful eye,
Never to wander from me more;

Or some upkind, fevere reply,
After chimæras ne'er to rove,
Or run the wild-goose chace of love.

My hopes of bliss saould overcast,

And my presuming passion blaft. Thus it refolvid

If but in this thou kind wilt prove,
Till some new face again betray'd

And let me not see her I love,
The resolution it had made :
Then how 'twould Autter up and down,

Thy altars proftrate I 'll adore,

And call thçe tyrant-god no more. Eager, impatient, to be gone:





PASTORAL ECLOGUE S. But when from them you some spare moment find,

Think then, oh think on whom you leave behind!

Think with what heart I fall behold the green,
Where I so oft those charming cyes have feen!

Think with what grief I walk the groves alone,
ICILIAN Muse, my humble voice inspire When you, the glory of them all, are gone !

To fing of Daphne's charms and Damon's fire. Yet, oh! the little time you have to ftay, Long had the faithful swain suppreit his grief,

Let me ftill speak, and gaze my soul away! And, fince he durft not hope, ne'er al'd relief. But see my passion that small aid denies; But at th' arrival of the fatal day

Grief ftops my tongue, and tears o'erflow my eyes? That took the nymph and all his joys away ; With dying looks he gaz'd upon the fair, And what his tongue could not, his eyes declare : Till with deep fighs, as if his heart-strings broke, E CLOGUE II. Pressing her hand, these tender things he fpoke :




Ab, lovely nymph! beheld your lover burn,

HYRSIS, the gayest once of all the fwains, And view that passion which you 'll not return.

Who fed their focks upon th' Arcadian plains ; As no nymph's charms did ever equal thine,

While love's mad passion quite devour'd his heart, So no swain's love did ever equal mine :

And the coy nymph that caus’d, neglects bis smart; How happy, fair, how happy tbould I be,

Strives in low numbers, such as thepherds use, Might I but sacrifice myself for thee!

If not to move her breast, his own amuse. Could I but please thee with my dying verse,

You, Chloris, who with scorn refuse to fee And make thee fhed one tear upon my hearse !

The mighty wounds that you have made on me;

Yet cannot sure with equal pride disdain,

To hear an humble hind of his complain.
Too free an offer of that love you make,

Now while the Rocks and herds to Thades retire, Which, now, alas, I have no power to take: While the fierce sun sets all the world on fire; Your wounds I cannot, though I would, relieve; Through burning fields, through rugged brakes I rove; Phaon has all the love that I can give.

And to the hills and woods declare my love.
Had you among the rest at first affail'd

How small 's the heat ! how easy is the pain
My heart, when free, you had, perhaps, prevail'd. I feel without, to that I feel within!
Now if you blame, ob, blame not me, but fate,

Yet scornful Galatea will not hear,
That never brought you 'rill 'twas grown too late.

But from my songs and pipe fill turns her ear :

Not so the fage Corisca, nor the fair
Had the fates brought me then, too charming fair, Climena, nor rich Ægon's only care ;
I could not hope, and now I must despair,

From them my songs a juft compassion drew; Ruld by your friends, you quit the lover's flame,

And they shall have them, since conieme'd by you. For Aocks, for pastures, for an empty name.

Why name I them, when ev'n chaste Cynthia fays, Yet though the blest possession fate denies,

And Pan himself, to listen to my lays? Oh let me gaze for ever on those eyes :

Pan, whose sweet pipe has been admir'd so long, So juft, so true, so innocent 's my flame,

Has not disdain'd sometimes to hear my song :
That Phaon, did he see it, could not blame.

Yet Galatea's scorns whate'er I say,
And Galatea's wiser sure than they.

Relentlese nymph! can nothing move your mind?
Such generous ends I know you fill pursue,
What I can do, be sure I will for you.

Must you be deaf, because you are unkind ? If on esteen or pity you can live,

Though you dinike the subject of my lays,

Yet sure the sweetness of my voice might please. Or hopes of more, if I had more to give, Those you may have, but cannot have

It is not thus that you dull Mopsus use; heart :

my And since we now perhaps for ever part,

His songs divert you, though you mine refuse: Such noble thoughts through all your life express,

Yet I could tell you, fair-one, if I would, Nay make the value more, the pity less.

(And since you treat me thus, methinks I should) What the wise Lycon said, when in yon' plain

He faw him court in hope, and me in vain; Can you then go ? can you for ever part,

Forbear, fond youth, to chace a heedless fair, (Ye Gods! what thivering pains surround my heart!)

Nor think with well-eund verse to please her car ; And have one thought to make your pity less ?

Seek out some other nymph, nor e'er repine Ab Daphne, could I half my pangs express,

That one who likes his fongs, should fly from thine, You could not think, though hard as rocks you were, Ah, Lycon ! ah! your rage false dangers forms; Your pity ever could too great appear.

'Tis not his songs, but 'tis his fortune charms : I ne'er shall be one moment free from pain,

Yet, fcornful maid, in time you'll find those toys Till I behold those charming eyes again.

Can yield no real, no substantial joys; When gay diverhons do your thoughts employ,

In vain bis wealth, his titles gain cîteem, I would not come to interrupt the joy ;

If for all that you are alham'd of him,




Ah, Calaren, would't thou turn those eyes, While you despise my humble fongs, myter, Would'!? thou but once vouchsafe to hear my cries; My shaggy eyebrows, and my rugged beard; In such soft notes I would my pains impart,

While through the plains difjainfully you more, As could not fail to move thy rocky heart;

And think no shepherd can deserve your love; With such fweet songs I would thy fame make known, Mopsus alone can the nice virgin win, As Panhimleit might not disdain to own.

With charming person, and with graceful mien. Oh could't thou, fair-one, but contented be Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian trains. To terd the theep, and chace the hures, with me; When first I saw you on those fatal plains, To have thy praises echo'd through the groves, I reach'd you fruit ; your mother too was there; And pass thy days with one who truly loves : Scarce had you seen the thirteenth spriag appes:: Nor let thote gaudy toys thy heart surprize,

Yet beauty's buds were opening in your face; Which the fois envy, and the fage despise.

I gaz'd, and bluthes did your charms increase. But Galatea scorns my humble fiame,

'Tis love, thought I, that's rising in her breaft; And neither afks my fortune, nor my name.

Alas, your paflion, by my own, I gueft; Of the best cheere my well-ftor'd dairy 's full, Then upon trust I fed che raging pains. And my fof: theap produce the finest wool;

Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian strains. The richest wines of Greece my vineyards yield, Oh, love i I know thee nour; thou owit the birth And ímiling crops of grain adorn my field.

To rocks; some craggy mountain brought the forti Ah, foolish yoath! in vain thy boast't thy fto.e,

Nor is it human blood that fills thy veins, Have what thou wilt, if Moplus still has more.

Begin, my Muse, begin th’ Arcadian strains. See while thou fing'ft, behold her haughty pride,

Relentless love to bold Medea how'd, With what disdain she turns her head aside!

To ftain her guilty hands in children's blood. Oh, why would Nature, to our ruin, place

Was she more cruel, or more wicked he? A tiger's heart, with such an angel's face?

He was a wicked counsellor, a cruel mother fbe. Cease, thepherd, cease, at last thy fruitless moan; Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian strains. Nor hope to gain : heart already gone.

Now let the screech-owls vie with warbling (vas; While rocks and caves thy tuneful notes refound,

Upon hard oaks let blushing peaches grow, See how thy corn lies wither'd on the ground !

And from the brambles liquid amber fow. The hungry wolves devour thy fattend lambs;

The harmless wolves the ravenous theep fall fun; And bleating for the young makes lean the dams.

And valiant deer ar fearful greyhounds run: Take, shepherd, take thy hook, thy focks pursue,

Let the fea rise, and overflow the plains. And when one nymph proves cruel, find a new. Begin, my Muse, begin ch' Arcadian ftraias.

Adieu, ye focks; no more thall I pursue ! Adieu, ye groves; a long, a long adieu !

And you, coy nymph, who all my vows disdain, E C L O G U E III. Take this last present from a dying (wzin.

Since you difike whate'er in life I said, · DA MO N.

You may be pleas'd, perhaps, to hear I'm dead:

This leap shall put an end to all my pains.
Taken from the Eighth Eclogue of Virgil. Now ceafe, my Muse, now cease th’ Arcadian fraiss,

Thus Damon lung while on the cliff he ftood,
While I in fighs and tears consume away; Then headlong plung'd into the saging fiood.
Deceiv’d with flattering hopes of Nysa's love : · All with united grief the loss bemoan,
And to the gods my vain petitions nove:

Except the authoress of his fate alone, Though they 've done nothing to prevent my death, Who hears it with an unrelenting breast. 1 'll yet invoke them with my dying breath.

Ah, cruel nymph! forbear your icorns at least, Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian strains.

How much foc'er you may the love despise,
Arcadia 's famous for its spacious plains,

"I is barbarous to insult on one that dies.
Its whilling pine-trces, and its shady groves,
And often bears the swains lament their loves.
Great Pan upon its mountains feeds his goats,
Who firk taught reeds to warble rural notes.

Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian strains.
Mopsus weds Nisa! oh, well-suited pair!

L Y CO N. When he succeeds, what lover can despair?

STREPHON and Damon's flocks together fed, After this match, let mares and griffins breed;

Two charming swains as e'er Arcadia bred; And hounds with hares in friendly confort feed.

Both fam'd for wit, and fam'd for beauty both; Go, Mopsus, go; provide the bridal cake,

Both in the lustre of their blooming youth: And to thy bed the blooming virgin take:

No sullen cares their tender thoughts remove, In her soft arms thou shalt securely rest,

No pations discompose their fouls, but love. Behold, the evening comes to make thee blert!

Once, and but once alone, as story goes, Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian strains,

Retween the youths a fierce dispute arose ; Oh, Nisa, happy in a lovely choice!

Not for the merit of their tuneful lays While you with scora neclect my pipe and voice; (Though both deserv'd, yet both despised, that praile)


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But for a cause of greater moment far,

Dam. Because their ways of life so different are; That merited a lover's utmost care.

Flavia gives all men hopes, and Sylvia none. Each fwain the prize of beauty Atrove to gain, For the bright shepherdess that caus'd his pain.

Lycon. Shepherds, enough ; now cease your amo. Lycon they chose, the difference to decide,

rous war ; Lycon, for prudence and sage counsel try'd;

Or too much heat may carry both too far ; Who love's mysterious arts had study'd long,

I well attended the dispute, and find And taught, when old, what he had practis'd young. Both nymphs have charms, but each in different kind. For the dispute alternate verse they choose,

Flavia deserves more pains than she will cost ; Alternate verse delights the rural Mase.

As easily got, were she not easily lost.

Sylvia is much more difficult to gain ; ŠTREP. To Flavia, love, thou juftly ow't thy prize, But, once portefe'd, will well reward the pain, She owns thy power, nor does thy laws reprove.

We with them Flavias all, when firf we burn; Dam. Though Sylvia, for herself, love's power defies, And, by the different charms in cach expreft,

But, once pofTefa'd, with they would Sylvias turn. What crowds of vallals has fhe made to love!

One we should soonest love, the other belt. STRIP. When Flavia cômes attir'd for rural gimes,

Each curl, each flower the wears, a charm cxpress. Dam. Sylvia, without a foreign aid, inflames; Charmd with her eyes, we never mind her dress.

STREP. Have you seen Flavia with her flaxen hair?

She seems an image of the queen of love!
Dam. Sylvia's dark hair like Leda's locks appear,

Lamenting the death of Mr. Tempeft, wia died upon And yet, like her, has charms to conquer Jove.

the day of the great farm. STREP. Flavia by crouds of lovers is admir'd;

E gentle swains, who pass your days and nights Happy that youth who shall the fair enjoy!

In Love's fincere and innocent delights!

Ye tender virgins, who with pride display Dam. Sylvia neglects her lovers, lives retird ;

Your beauty's splendor, and extend your fway! Happy, that could her lonely thoughts employ!

Lament with me! with me your forrows join! STRIP. Flavia, where-e'er she comes, the swains fub- And mingle your united tears with mine! dues,

Delia, the Queen of Love, let all deplore ! And every smile she gives conveys a dart.

Delia, the Queen of Beauty, now no more! Dam. Sylvia the swains with native coldness views,

Begin, my Muse! begin your mournful Atrains! And yet what shepherd can defend his heart ?

Tell the fad tale through all the hills and plains ! STREP. Flavia's bright beauties in an instant strike; | Tell it through every lawn and every grove ! Gazers, before they think of it, adore.

Wherc flocks can wander, or where shepherds rove! DAM. Sylvia's soft charms, as soon as seen, welike, | And winds from pole to pole the news convey!

Bid neighbouring rivers tell the distant fea, But still the more we think, we love the more.

Delia, the Queen of Love, let all deplore! STRIP. Who is so stupid, that has Flavia seen, Delia, the Queen of Beauty, now no more!

As not to view the nymph with vast delight? DAM. Who has seen Sylvia, and so stupid been,

'Tis done, and all obey the mournful Muse!

See, bills, and plains, and winds, have heard the news! As to remember any other fight?

The foaming sea o'erwhelms the frighten'd shore, STREP. What thoughts has Flavia, when with care fhe The vallies tremble, and the mountains roar. views

See lofty oaks from firm foundations torn, Her charming graces in the crystal lakes ?

And stately towers in heaps of ruin mourn! DAM. To see hers, Sylvia need no mirrors use ; The gentle Thames, that rarely passion knows, She sees them by the conquests that she makes.

Swells with this forrow, and her banks o'erflows : STREP. With what affurance Flavia walks the plains! What shrieks are heard! what groans ! what dying cries! She knows the nymphs must all their lovers yield.

Ev'n nature's self in dire convulsions lies!

Delia, the Queen of Love, they all deplore ! Dam. Sylvia with blushes wounds the gazing (wains, Delia, the Queen of Beauty, now no more! And while she strives to fly, she wins the field.

O! why did I survive the fatal day,
STREP. Flavia at first young Melibæus lov'd ; That snatch'd the joys of all my life away?
For me she did that charming youth forsake.

Why was not I beneath some ruin lost?
Dam. Sylvia's relentless heart was never mov'd; Sunk in the seas, or shipwreck'd on the coast ?

Gods ! that I might the first impression make! Why did the Fates fpare this devoted head ?
STRIP. Should Flavia hear that Sylvia vy'd with her; / Why did I live to hear that thou wert dead?
What indignation would the charmer show!

By thee my griefs were calm'd, my torments eas'd;

Nor knew I pleasure but as thou wert pleas'd. DAM. Sylvia would Flavia to herself prefer:

Where shall I wander now, diftress'd, alone ?
There we alone her judgment disallow.

What use have I of life, now thou art gone?
STRIP. If Sylvia's charms with Flavia's can compare, I have no use, alas! but to deplore
Why is this crowded ftill, and that alone? | Delia, the pride of Beauty, now no more!
Vol. II,

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What living nymph is bleft with equal grace ? But see, thole dreadful objects disappex! All may dispute, but who can fill thy place? The sun taines out, and all the heavens are cle: What lover in his mistress hopes to find

The warring winds are huil'd, the lea ferese; A form so lovely with so bright a mind?

And nature, fofton'd, thifts her ungry scene. Doris may boast a face divinely fair,

What means this sudden change? nethinks í hex But wants thy Thape, tby motions, and thy air. Melodious mufic from the heavenly sphere ! Lucinda has thy shape, but not those eyes,

wiften, ye thepherds, and devour the found! That, while they did th' admiring world surprise, Liften : the saint, the lovely saint, is crown'd! Disclos'd the secret luftre of the mind,

While we, mistaken in our joy and grief,
And seemn'd each lover's inmoft thoughts to find. Bewall her fate, who was not our relief :
Others, whose beauty yielding (wains confess, Prom the pleas'd orbs the views us here below,
By indiscretion make their conqueft less.

And with kind piry wonders at our woe.
And want thy conduct and obliging wit
To fix thote Naves who to their chains submit.

Ah, charming laint! fince thou art bless'd above, As fome rich tyrant hoards an useless store,

Indulge thy lovers, and forgive their love. That would, well plac'd, inrich a thousand more : Forgive their tears, who pressd with grief and care, So didst thou keep a crowd of charms retir'd Feel opt thy joys, biet feel their own despair. Would make a thousand other nymphs admir'd. Gay, modest, artless, beautiful and young, Siow to resolve; in resolution Atrong; To all obliging, yet reserv'd to all;

THE GOLDEN AGE RESTORED, None could himself the favour'd lover call: That which alone could make bis hopes endure,

Was, that he saw no other fwain secure.
Whither, ab! whither are those graces filed ? AN IMITATION OF THE FOURTH
Down to the dark, the melancholy ibade?

Now, Daepherds, now lament! and now deplore!
Delia is dead, and beauty is no more!

SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN TAKEN FRON For thee each tuneful fwain prepar'd his lays,

A SIBYĻLINE PROPHECY.. His fame exalting while he sung thy praise.

- Paulò majora canares. Thyrfis, in gay and easy measures, itrove To charm thy ears, and tune thy soul to love:

VICILIAN Muse, begin a loftier flight; Menalcas, in his numbers more subliine, Extoll'd thy virtues in immortal rhyme.

Or if your rural hades you still pursue, Glycon, whose fatire kept the world in awe, Make your shades fit for alle statesmens view. Sorend bis strain when first thy churms he saw, Confied the goddess who new-form'd his mind, The time is come, by ancient Bards foretold, Proclaim d thy bezuries, and forgot mankind. Restoring the Saturnian age of gold; Ccaie, shepherd, cease; the charms you sung are filed, The vile, degenerate, whiggith offspring ends, The glory of our blasted ille is dead.

A high-church progeny from heaves descends.
Now join your griefs with minc! and now deplore
Delia, the pride of beauty, now no more!

O learned Oxford, spare po facred pains
To nyrse the glorious breed, now tby own Brassley

Behold where now she lies depriv'd of breath!
Charming, tbo’ pale, and beautiful in death!

And thou, great Scarsdale, darling of this land, A troop of weeping Virgins by her fide;

Doft foremoft in that fam'd commiffima ftand; With all the pomp of woe and forrow's pride! Whose deep remarks the liftening world admiru, O, carly lost! O, fitter to be led

By whose auspicious care old Ranelagh erpires. In chearful splendor to the bridal-bed,

Your migbty genius no ftri&t rules can bind; Than thus conducted to the untimely tomb,

You punish men for crimes, which you want time to find. A spotless virgin in her beauty's bloom! Whatever hopes superior merit gave;

Senates shall now like holy fynods be, Let me, at leaft, embrace thee in the grave;

And holy fynods fenate-like agree. On thy cold lips imprint a dying kiss:

Monmouth and Mostyn bere inftru& the youth, O that thy coyness could refuse me this!

There Bincks and Kimberley maintain the facred truck Such melting tears upon thy limbs 1 'll pour,

Powis and Hamlin here, with equal claim, Shall thaw their numbness, and thy warmth reforc,

Through wide Weft-Saxon realms extend their fame; Claspt to thy glowing breast, thou may'st revive;

There Birch and Hooper right divine convey, I'll breathe such tender fighs Thall make thee live,

Nor treat their bishops in a human way. Or, if severer fates that aid deny,

Now all our factions, all our fears fhall ceake, If thou canst not revive, yet I may die.

And Tories rule the promis'd land in peace. In one cold grave together may be laid

Malice hall die, and noxious poifons fail, The truest lover and the loveliest maid.

Harley shall cease to trick, and Seymour ceak to all Then thall I cease to grieve, and not before ; The lambs tball with the lions walk ukurt, Then shall I sease fair Delia to deplore.

And Halifas and Howe meet civilly e coart.

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