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AUTU M N.
HYLAS and EGON.
To Mr. WY CHERLEY.
Eneath the shade a spreading Beech displays, Hylas and Ægon fung their rural lays, This mourn'd a faithlefs, that an abfent Love, And Delia's name and Doris fill'd the Grove.
Ye Mantuan nymphs, your facred fuccour bring; 5 Hylas and Egon's rural lays I fing.
Thou, whom the Nine with Plautus' wit inspire, The art of Terence, and Menander's fire;
This Paftoral confifts of two parts, like the viiith of Virgil: The Scene, a Hill; the Time at Sun-fet. P.
VER. 7. Thou, whom the Nine,] Mr. Wycherley, a famous Author of Comedies; of which the most celebrated were the Plain-Dealer and Country-Wife. He was a writer of infinite fpirit, fatire, and wit. The only objection made to him was that he had too much. However he was followed in the fame way by Mr. Congreve; tho' with a little more correctness. P.
Whose sense inftructs us, and whofe humour charms,
To Delia's ear, the tender notes convey.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along!
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away;
Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along! The birds fhall cease to tune their ev'ning fong, 40 The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move, And streams to murmur, e'er I cease to love: Not bubling fountains to the thirsty swain, Not balmy fleep to lab'rers faint with pain, Not show'rs to larks, or fun-fhine to the bee, Are half fo charming as thy fight to me.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! Come, Delia, come; ah why this long delay? Thro' rocks and caves the name of Delia founds, Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds. Ye pow'rs, what pleasing frenzy fooths my mind! Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind? She comes, my Delia comes !-Now cease my lay, And ceafe, ye gales, to bear my fighs away!
Next Ægon fung, while Windfor groves admir'd; Rehearse, ye Mufes, what yourselves infpir'd.
Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful ftrain! Of perjur❜d Doris, dying I complain :
VER. 48. Originally thus in the MS.
Mala ferant quercus; narciffo floreat alnus, Pinguia corticibus fudent ele&ra myrice.Virg. Ecl. viii. P. VER. 43, etc.]
Quale fopor felis in gramine, quale per æftum
Dulcis aque faliente fitim reftinguere rivo. Ecl. v. P. VER. 52. An qui amant, ipfi fibi fomnia fingunt ? Id. viii. P.
Here where the mountains lefs'ning as they rife
Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful strain! Now bright Arcturus glads the teeming grain, Now golden fruits on loaded branches shine, And grateful clusters swell with floods of wine; Now blufhing berries paint the yellow grove; 75 Juft Gods! fhall all things yield returns but love? Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful lay! The fhepherds cry, "Thy flocks are left a preyAh! what avails it me, the flocks to keep, Who loft my heart while I preferv'd my fheep. 80 Pan came, and afk'd, what magic caus'd my fmart, Or what ill eyes malignant glances dart? What eyes but hers, alas, have pow'r to move! And is there magic but what dwells in love?
VER. 74. And grateful cluflers, etc.] The scene is in Windfor-foreft. So this image not fo exact.
VER. 82. Or what ill eyes]
Nefcio quis teneros oculus mihi fafcinat agnos.
Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful ftrains! I'll fly from fhepherds, flocks, and flow'ry plains. From fhepherds, flocks, and plains, I may remove, Forfake mankind, and all the world but love! I know thee, Love! on foreign Mountains bred, Wolves gave thee fuck, and favage Tigers fed. Thou wert from Ætna's burning entrails torn, Got by fierce whirlwinds, and in thunder born! Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful lay! Farewell, ye woods, adieu the light of day! One leap from yonder cliff fhall end my pains, 95 No more, ye hills, no more refound my ftrains! Thus fung the fhepherds till th' approach of night, The fkies yet blushing with departing light, When falling dews with fpangles deck'd the glade, And the low fun had lengthen'd ev'ry fhade.
VER: 98, 100.] There is a little inaccuracy here; the first line makes the time after fun-fet; the second, before.
VER. 89. Nunc fcio quid fit Amor: duris in cotibus itlum, etc. P.