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nish every month with a particular description, as it may every season.

Of the following eclogues I shall only say that these four comprehend all the subjects which the critics upon Theocritus and Virgil will allow to be fit for pastoral: that they have as much variety of description, in respect of the several seasons, as Spenser's; that in order to add to this variety, the several times of the day are observed, the rural employments in each season or time of day, and the rural scenes or places proper to such employments; not without some regard to the several ages of man, and the different passions proper to each age.

But after all, if they have any merit, it is to be attributed to some good old authors, whose works as I had leisure to study, so I hope I have not wanted care to imitate.

SPRING:

THE FIRST PASTORal1, or Damon.

TO SIR WILLIAM TRUMBAL 2.

FIRST in these fields I try the sylvan strains,
Nor blush to sport on Windsor's blissful plains3:

1 These Pastorals were written at the age of sixteen, and then passed through the hands of Mr. Walsh, Mr. Wycherley, G. Granville afterwards Lord Lansdown, Sir William Trumbal, Dr. Garth, Lord Halifax, Lord Somers, Mr. Mainwaring, and others. All these gave our author the greatest encouragement, and particularly Mr. Walsh, whorn Mr. Dryden, in his postscript to Virgil, calls the best critic of his age. "The author (says he) seems to have a particular genius for this kind of poetry, and a judgment that much exceeds his years. He has taken very freely from the ancients. But what he has mixed of his own with theirs is no way inferior to what he has taken from them. It is not flattery at all to say, that Virgil had written nothing so good at his age. His preface is very judicious and learned." Letter to Mr. Wycherley, Ap. 1705. The Lord Lansdown, about the same time, mentioning the youth of our poet, says (in a printed letter of the character of Mr. Wycherley,)" that if he goes on as he hath begun in the pastoral way, as Virgil first tried his strength, we may hope to see English poetry vie with the Roman," &c. Notwithstanding the early time of their production, the author esteemed these as the most correct in the versification, and musical in the numbers, of all his works. The reason for his labouring them into so much softness was, doubtless, that this sort of poetry derives almost its whole beauty from a natural ease of thought and smoothwhereas that of most other kinds consists in

ness of verse;

the strength and fulness of both. In a letter of his to Mr. Walsh about this time, we find an enumeration of several niceties in versification, which perhaps have never been strictly observed in any English poem, except in these Pastorals. They were not printed till 1709.

Our author's friendship with this gentleman commenced at very unequal years; he was under sixteen, but Sir William above sixty, and had lately resigned his employment of Secretary of State to King William.

"Prima Syracosio dignata est ludere versu Nostra, nec erubuit sylvas habitare, Thalia." This is the general exordium and opening of the Pastorals, in imitation of the sixth of Virgil, which some have therefere not improbably thought to have been the first originally. In the beginnings of the other three Pastorals, he imitates expressly those which now stand first of the three chief poets in this kind, Spenser, Virgil, Theocritus.

Fair Thames, flow gently from thy sacred spring,
While on thy banks Sicilian Muses sing;
Let vernal airs through trembling osiers play,
And Albion's cliffs resound the rural lay.

You, that too wise for pride, too good for power,
Enjoy the glory to be great no more,
And carrying with you all the world can boast,
To all the world illustriously are lost!
O let my muse her slender reed inspire,
Till in your native shades you tune the lyre :
So when the nightingale to rest removes,
The thrush may chant to the forsaken groves,
But charm'd to silence, listens while she sings,
And all the aerial audience clap their wings.

Soon as the flocks shook off the nightly dews, Two swains, whom love kept wakeful, and the muse, Pour'd o'er the whitening vale their fleecy care, Fresh as the morn, and as the season fair: The dawn now blushing on the mountain's side, Thus Daphnis spoke, and Strephon thus replied.

DAPHNIS.

Hear how the birds, on every blooming spray, With joyous music wake the dawning day! Why sit we mute, when early linnets sing, When warbling Philomel salutes the spring! Why sit we sad, when Phosphor shines so clear, And lavish nature paints the purple year?

STREPHON.

Sing then, and Damon shall attend the strain, While yon slow oxen turn the furrow'd plain. Here the bright crocus and blue violet glow, Here western winds on breathing roses blow. I'll stake yon lamb, that near the fountain plays, And from the brink his dancing shade surveys.

DAPHNIS.

And I this bowl, where wanton ivy twines, And swelling clusters bend the curling viness: Four figures rising from the work appear, The various seasons of the rolling year; And what is that, which binds the radiant sky, Where twelve fair signs in beauteous order lie!

DAMON.

Then sing by turns, by turns the Muses sing, Now hawthorns blossom, now the daisies spring, Now leaves the trees, and flowers adorn the ground;

Begin, the vales shall every note rebound.

A shepherd's boy (he seeks no better name)Beneath the shade a spreading beech displays,Thyrsis, the music of that murmuring spring,are manifestly imitations of

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-A shepherd's boy (no better do him call) " "Tityre, tu patulæ recubans sub tegmine fagi." • Αδύ τι τὸ ψιθύρισμα καὶ ὁ πίτυς, αἰπόλι, τήνα. 4 Sir W. Trumbal was born in Windsor-forest, to which he retreated after he had resigned the post of Secretary of State of King William III.

5" Lenta quibus torno facili superaddita vitis, Diffusos hederâ vestit pallente corymbos."-VIRG, The Shepherd's hesitation at the name of the Zodiac imitates that in Virgil,

"Et quis fuit alter, Descripsit radio totum qui gentibus orbem?"

6 Literally from Virgil,

"Alternis dicetis, amant alterna Camoenæ :

Et nunc omnis ager, nunc omnis parturit arbos;
Nunc frondent sylvæ, nunc formosissimus annus."

STREPHON.

Inspire me, Phoebus, in my Delia's praise, With Waller's strains, or Granville's moving lays!

A milk-white bull shall at your altars stand, That threats a fight, and spurns the rising sand2.

DAPHNIS.

O Love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize, And make my tongue victorious as her eyes: 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 run unseen; While a kind glance at her pursuer flies3, 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; Bright 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 showers, Hush'd are the birds, and closed the drooping flowers;

If Delia smile, the flowers begin to spring,
The skies to brighten, and the birds to sing.

DAPHNIS.

STREPHON.

Say, Daphnis, say, in what glad soil appears, A wondrous tree that sacred monarchs bears5; Tell me but this, and I'll disclaim the prize, And give the conquest to thy Sylvia's eyes.

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 vanquish'd nature seems to charm no more.

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.

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 every grace excel; Blest nymphs, whose swains those graces sing

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

so well!

Now rise, and haste to yonder woodbine bowers,
A soft retreat from sudden vernal showers;
The turf with rural dainties shall be crown'd,
While opening blooms diffuse their sweets around.
For see the gathering flocks to shelter tend,
And from the Pleiads fruitful showers descend.

1 George Granville, afterwards Lord Lansdown, known for his Poems, most of which he composed very young, and proposed Waller as his model.

2 Virg."Pascite taurum,

Qui cornu petat, et pedibus jam spargat arenam." Imitation of Virgil

"Malo me Galatea petit, lasciva puella,

Et fugit ad salices, sed se cupit ante videri." 4"Aret ager, vitio moriens sitit aëris herba," &c.

Phyllidis adventu nostræ nemus omne virebit."

VIRG.

SUMMER:

THE SECOND PASTORAL, OR

Alexis.

TO DR. GARTH.

A SHEPHERD's boy (he seeks no better name)
Led forth his flocks along the silver Thame,
Where dancing sun-beams on the waters play'd",
Soft as he mourn'd, the streams forgot to flow,
And verdant alders form'd a quivering shade.
The flocks around a dumb compassion show,
The Naiads wept in every watery bower,
And Jove consented in a silent showers.

Accept, O GARTH! the Muse's early lays,
That adds this wreath of ivy to thy 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, nor to the deaf I sing 10, The woods shall answer, and their echo ring". The hills and rocks attend my doleful lay, Why art thou prouder and more hard than they?

5 An allusion to the Royal Oak, in which Charles II. had been hid from the pursuit after the battle at Worcester. 6 Alludes to the device of the Scots monarchs, the thistle, worn by Queen Anne; and to the arms of France, the fleur-de-lys. 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."

7 The scene of this pastoral by the river side, suitable to the heat of the season; the time, noon.

8"Jupiter et læto descendet plurimus imbri."-VIRG. 9 Dr. Samuel Garth, author of "The Dispensary," was one of the first friends of our poet, whose acquaintance with him began at fourteen or fifteen. Their friendship continued from the year 1703 to 1718, which was that of his death.

10 Non canimus surdis, respondent omnia sylvæ." 11 A line out of Spenser's Epithalamion.

VIRO.

The bleating sheep with my complaints agree,
They parch'd with heat, and I inflamed by thee.
The sultry Sirius burns the thirsty plains,
While in thy heart eternal winter reigns.

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

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 watery glass;
But since those graces please thy eyes no more,
I shun the fountains which I sought before.
Once I was skill'd in every herb that grew,
And every 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's3 tuneful breath
Inspired when living, and bequeath'd in death4:
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 power
The captive bird that sings within thy bower!
Then might my voice thy listening 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 every cave and spring,
Their early fruit and milk-white turtles bring!
Each amorous nymph prefers her gifts in vain,
On you their gifts are all bestow'd again.
For you the swains their fairest flowers design,
And in one garland all their beauties join;
Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,
In whom all beauties are comprised in one.

See what delights in sylvan scenes appear!
Descending gods have found Elysium here3.
In woods bright Venus with Adonis stray'd,
And chaste Diana haunts the forest-shade.
Come, lovely nymph, and bless the silent hours,
When swains from shearing seek their nightly

bowers;

When weary reapers quit the sultry field,
And crown'd with corn their thanks to Ceres yield.
This harmless 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.

1 "Quæ nemora, aut qui vos saltus habuere, puellæ
Naïdes, indigno cum Gallus amore periret?
Nam neque Parnassi vobis juga, nam neque Pindi
Ulla moram fecere, neque Aonia Aganippe."
VIRG. out of THEOC.

* Virgil again, from the Cyclops of Theocritus-
"Nuper me in littore vidi,

Cum placidum ventis staret mare; non ego Daphnim,
Judice te, metuam, si nunquam fallat imago."
The name taken by Spenser in his Eclogues, where his
mistress is celebrated under that of Rosalinda.
"Est mihi disparibus septem compacta cicutis
Fistula, Damætas dono mihi quam dedit olim,
Et dixit moriens, Te nunc habet ista secundum."
VIRG. Ecl. ii.

"Habitarunt Di quoque sylvas."—VIRG.
"Et formosus oves ad flumina pavit Adonis."—Idem.

O 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 flowers shall rise,
And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
O! how I long with you to pass my days,
Invoke the Muses, and resound your praise!
Your praise the birds shall chant in every grove,
And winds shall waft it to the powers above.
But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain,
The wondering forests soon should dance again.
The moving mountains hear the powerful call,
And headlong streams hang listening in their fall!

But see, the shepherds shun the noon-day heat,
The lowing herds to murmuring 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 for ever prey,
By night he scorches, as he burns by day.

AUTUMN:

THE THIRD PASTORAL, OR
Hylas and Aegon.

TO MR. WYCHERLEY.

BENEATH the shade a spreading beech displays,
Hylas and Ægon sung their rural lays;
This mourn'd a faithless, that an absent love,
And Delia's name and Doris' fill'd the grove.
Ye Mantuan nymphs, your sacred succour bring;
Hylas and Egon's rural lays I sing.

Thou, whom the Nine with Plautus' wit inspire,
The art of Terence, and Menander's fire;
Whose sense instructs us, and whose humour
charms,
[warms!
Whose judgment sways us, and whose spirit
Oh, skill'd in nature! see the hearts of swains,
Their artless passions, and their tender pains.

Now setting Phoebus shone serenely bright,
And fleecy clouds were streak'd with purple light;
When tuneful Hylas with melodious moan, [groan.
Taught rocks to weep, and made the mountains

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
To Delia's ear the tender notes convey.
As some sad turtle his lost love deplores,
And with deep murmurs fills the sounding shores;
Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I mourn
Alike unheard, unpitied, and forlorn.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along!
For her, the feather'd quires neglect their song:

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7" Me tamen urit amor, quis enim modus adsit amori?"
VIRG.

8 This pastoral consists of two parts, like the eighth of
Virgil: The Scene, a Hill, the Time at Sun-set.

9 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 spirit, satire, and wit. The only objection made to him was, that he had too much. However, he was followed in the same way by Mr. Congreve, though with a little more correctness.

For her, the limes their pleasing shades deny;
For her, the lilies hang their heads and die.
Ye flowers that droop, forsaken by the spring,
Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing,
Ye trees that fade when autumn-heats remove,
Say, is not absence death to those who love ?
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
Cursed be the fields that cause my Delia's stay;
Fade every blossom, wither every tree,
Die every flower, and perish all, but she.
What have I said? where'er my Delia flies,
Let spring attend, and sudden flowers arise;
Let opening roses knotted oaks adorn,
And liquid amber drop from every thorn1.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along!
The birds shall cease to tune their evening song,
The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move,
And streams to murmur, ere I cease to love.
Not bubbling fountains to the thirsty swain,
Not balmy sleep to labourers faint with pain,
Not showers to larks, nor sunshine to the bee,
Are half so charming as thy sight to me.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away! Come, Delia, come; ah, why this long delay? Thro' rocks and caves the name of Delia sounds, Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds. Ye powers, what pleasing frenzy soothes my mind! Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind3 ? She comes, my Delia comes! Now cease my lay, And cease, ye gales, to bear my sighs away!

Next Egon sung, while Windsor groves admired; Rehearse, ye Muses, what yourselves inspired. Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strain ! Of perjured Doris, dying I complain : Here, where the mountains, lessening as they rise, Lose the low vales, and steal into the skies; While labouring oxen, spent with toil and heat, In their loose traces from the field retreat : While curling smokes from village-tops are seen, And the fleet shades glide o'er the dusky green.

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay! Beneath yon poplar oft we pass'd the day; Oft on the rind I carved her amorous vows, While she with garlands hung the bending boughs; The garlands fade, the vows are worn away; So dies her love, and so my hopes decay.

From shepherds, flocks, and plains, I may remove,
Forsake mankind, and all the world-but love!
I know thee, Love! on foreign mountains bred3,
Wolves gave thee suck, and savage tigers fed.
Thou wert from Etna's burning entrails torn,
Got by fierce whirlwinds, and in thunder born!
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay!
Farewell, ye woods, adieu the light of day!
One leap from yonder cliff shall end my pains,
No more, ye hills, no more resound my strains!

Resound, ye hills, resound 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 blushing berries paint the yellow grove; Just gods! shall all things yield returns but love? Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay! The shepherds cry, "Thy flocks are left a prey" Ah! what avails it me, the flocks to keep, Who lost my heart while I preserved my sheep. Pan came, and ask'd what magic caused my smart,

Or what ill eyes malignant glances dart4 ? What eyes but hers, alas, have power to move! And is there magic but what dwells in love!

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strains! I'll fly from shepherds, flocks, and flowery plains,

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Thus sung the shepherds till the approach of night, The skies yet blushing with departing light, When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade, And the low sun had lengthen'd every shade.

WINTER:

THE FOURTH PASTORAL, OR

Daphne.

TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. TEMPEST®.
LYCIDAS.

THYRSIS, the music of that murmuring spring
Is not so mournful as the strains you sing7;
Nor rivers winding through the vales below,
So sweetly warble, or so smoothly flow.
Now sleeping flocks on their soft fleeces lie,
The moon, serene in glory, mounts the sky,
While silent birds forget their tuneful lays,
Oh sing of Daphne's fate, and Daphne's praise!

THYRSIS.

Behold the groves that shine with silver frost, Their beauty wither'd, and their verdure lost. Here shall I try the sweet Alexis' strain, That call'd the listening Dryads to the plain! Thames heard the numbers as he flow'd along, And bade his willows learn the moving song.

LYCIDAS.

So may kind rains their vital moisture yield,
And swell the future harvest of the field.

Begin; this charge the dying Daphne gave,
And said, "Ye shepherds, sing around my grave!"
Sing, while beside the shaded tomb I mourn,
And with fresh bays her rural shrine adorn.

THYRSIS.

Ye gentle Muses, leave your crystal spring,
Let nymphs and sylvans cypress garlands bring;
Ye weeping Loves, the stream with myrtles hide,
And break your bows, as when Adonis died;
And with your golden darts, now useless grown,
Inscribe a verse on this relenting stone":

5 "Nunc scio quid sit Amor : duris in cotibus illum," &c. This lady was of an ancient family in Yorkshire, and particularly admired by the author's friend Mr. Walsh, who having celebrated her in a pastoral elegy, desired his friend to do the same, as appears from one of his letters, dated Sept. 9, 1706. "Your last eclogue being on the same subject with mine on Mrs. Tempest's death, I should take it very kindly in you to give it a little turn, as if it were to the memory of the same lady." Her death having happened on the night of the great storm in 1703, gave a propriety to this eclogue, which in its general turn alludes to it. The scene of the Pastoral lies in a grove; the time at midnight.

Adú ri, &c. Theocr. Id. i.

"Audiit Eurotas, jussitque ediscere lauros."-VIRG. "Inducite fontibus umbras

Et tumulum facite, et tumulo superaddite carmen.

"Let nature change, let heaven and earth deplore,
"Fair Daphne's dead, and love is now no more!"
'Tis done, and nature's various charms decay,
See gloomy clouds obscure the cheerful day!
Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear,
Their faded honours scatter'd on her bier.
See, where on earth the flowery glories 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!

For her the flocks refuse their verdant food,
The thirsty heifers shun the gliding flood,
The silver swans her hapless fate bemoan,

In notes more sad than when they sing their own;
In hollow caves sweet echo silent lies,
Silent, or only to her name replies;

Her name with pleasure once she taught the shore,
Now Daphne's dead, and pleasure is no more!
No grateful dews descend from evening skies,
Nor morning odours from the flowers arise;
No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field,
Nor fragrant herbs their native incense yield.
The balmy zephyrs, silent since her death,
Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath;
The industrious bees neglect their golden store !
Fair Daphne's dead, and sweetness is no more!
No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings,
Shall, listening in mid-air, suspend their wings;
No more the birds shall imitate her lays,

Or, hush'd with wonder, hearken from the sprays:
No more the streams their murmurs shall forbear,
A sweeter music than their own to hear;
But tell the reeds, and tell the vocal shore,
Fair Daphne's dead, and music is no more!
Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze,
And told in sighs to all the trembling trees;
The trembling trees, in every plain and wood,
Her fate remurmur to the silver flood;
The silver flood, so lately calm, appears
Swell'd with new passion, and o'erflows with tears;
The winds, and trees, and floods, her death deplore,
Daphne, our grief! our glory now no more!

But see! where Daphne, wondering, mounts on
Above the clouds, above the starry sky1! [high
Eternal beauties grace the shining scene,
Fields ever fresh, and groves for ever green !
There, while you rest in amaranthine bowers,
Or from those meads select unfading flowers,
Behold us kindly, who your name implore,
Daphne, our goddess, and our grief no more!

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In reading several passages of the prophet Isaiah, which foretell the coming of Christ and the felicities attending it, I could not but observe a remarkable parity between many of the thoughts, and those in the Pollio of Virgil. This will not seem surprising, when we reflect, that the eclogue was taken from a Sibylline prophecy on the same subject. One may judge that Virgil did not copy it line by line, but selected such ideas as best agreed with the nature of pastoral poetry, and disposed them in that manner which served most to beautify his piece. I have endeavoured the same in this imitation of him, though without admitting any thing of my own; since it was written with this particular view, that the reader, by comparing the several thoughts, might see how far the images and descriptions of the Prophet are superior to those of the Poet. But as I fear I have prejudiced them by my management, I shall subjoin the passages of Isaiah, and those of Virgil, under the same disadvantage of a literal translation.

YE nymphs of Solyma! begin the song:
To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong.
The mossy fountains, and the sylvan shades,
The dreams of Pindus and the Aonian maids,
Delight no more-O Thou my voice inspire
Who touched Isaiah's hallowed lips with fire!
Rapt into future times, the bard begun :
A Virgin shall conceive, a Virgin bear a Son!

"Omnia vincit amor, et nos cedamus amori."

Vid. etiam Sannazarii Ecl. et Spenser's Calendar. 5 These four last lines allude to the several subjects of the four Pastorals, and to the several scenes of them, particularized before in each.

"A Virgin shall conceive.-All crimes shall cease," &c.
"Jam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna;
Jam nova progenies cœlo demittitur alto-
Te duce, si qua manent sceleris vestigia nostri,
Irrita perpetuâ solvent formidine terras—
Pacatumque reget patriis virtutibus orbem."
VIRG. Ecl. iv. ver. 6.

"Now the Virgin returns, now the kingdom of Saturn returns, now a new progeny is sent down from high heaven. By means of thee, whatever reliques of our crimes remain shall be wiped away, and free the world from perpetual fears. He shall govern the earth in peace, with the virtues of his father."

Isaiah, ch. vii. ver. 14.-" Behold, a Virgin shall conceive and bear a son." Ch. ix. ver. 6, 7.“ Unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given; the Prince of Peace: of the increase of his government, and of his peace, there shall be no end. Upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order and to establish it, with judgment, and with justice, for ever and ever."

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