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He faid; Alexis, take this pipe, the fame
That taught the groves my Rofalinda's name:
But now the reeds fhall hang on yonder tree,
For ever filent fince defpis'd by thee.

Oh! were I made by fome transforming pow'r 45
The captive bird that fings within thy bow'r!
Then might my voice thy lift'ning ears employ,
And I thofe kiffes he receives, enjoy.

And yet my numbers please the rural throng,
Rough Satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the fong: 50
The Nymphs, forfaking 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 beftow'd again.
For you the fwains the fairest flow'rs defign,
And in one garland all their beauties join;
Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,
In whom all beauties are compriz'd in one.



See what delights in fylvan scenes appear ! Defcending Gods have found Elyfium here. In woods bright Venus with Adonis ftray'd, And chafte Diana haunts the foreft shade. Come, lovely nymph, and bless the filent hours, When fwains from fheering feek their nightly


When weary reapers quit the fultry field,


And crown'd with corn their thanks to Ceres yield,

C 3



VER. 60. Defcending Gods have found Elyftum here.]


Habitarunt Di quoque fylvas
Et formofus oves ad flumina pavit Adonis. Idem. P.


This harmless grove no lurking viper hides,
But in my breast the serpent Love abides.
Here bees from blossoms fip the rofy dew,
But your Alexis knows no fweets but you.
Oh deign to vifit our forsaken seats,
The mofly fountains, and the green retreats !
Where'er you walk, cool gales fhall fan the glade,
Trees, where you fit, fhall croud into a fhade:
Where'er you tread, the blushing flow'rs fhall rife,
And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
Oh! how I long with you to pass my days,
Invoke the Mufes, and refound your praise !
Your praise the birds fhall chant in ev'ry grove,
And winds fhall waft it to the pow'rs above.
But would you fing, and rival Orpheus' ftrain,
The wond'ring forefts foon should dance again,
The moving mountains hear the pow'rful call,
And headlong streams hang lift'ning in their fall!
But fee, the fhepherds fhun the noon-day heat,
The lowing herds to murm'ring brooks retreat, 86



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VER. 79, So.


Your praife the tuneful birds to heav'n fhall bear,
And lift'ning wolves grow milder as they hear.

So the verses were originally written. But the author,
young as he was, foon found the abfurdity which Spenser
himfelf overlooked, of introducing wolves into Eng-
land. P.


VER. 80. And winds fhall waft, etc.]

Partem aliquam, venti, divum referatis ad aures!

Virg. P.

To closer shades the panting flocks remove;
Ye Gods! and is there nc relief for Love?
But foon the fun with milder rays defcends
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.



VER. 91. Me love inflames, nor will his fires allay. P.


VER. 88. Ye Gods, etc.]

Me tamen urit amor, quis enim modus adfit amori?

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Eneath the fhade a spreading Beech displays,


Hylas and Ægon fung 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 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.


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.




Whofe fenfe inftructs us, and whofe humour charms,
Whose judgment fways us, and whose spirit warms!
Oh, fkill'd in Nature! fee the hearts of Swains,
Their artless paffions. and their tender pains.
Now fetting Phoebus fhone ferenely bright,
And fleecy clouds were ftreak'd with purple light;
When tuneful Hylas with melodious moan,
Taught rocks to weep and made the mountains groan.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away!
To Delia's ear, the tender notes convey.
As fome fad Turtle his loft love deplores,
And with deep murmurs fills the founding flores;
Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I mourn,
Alike unheard, unpity'd, and forlorn.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along!
For her, the feather'd quires neglect their fong:
For her, the limes their pleafing fhades deny ;
For her, the lillies hang their heads and die.
Ye flow'rs that droop, forfaken by the spring,
Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing.
Ye trees that fade when autumn-heats remove,
Say, is not abfence death to those who love?


Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away;
Curs'd be the fields that caus'd my Delia's ftay;
Fade ev'ry bloffom, wither ev'ry tree,
Die ev'ry flow'r, and perish all, but the.
What have I faid? where'er my Delia flies,
Let spring attend, and fudden flow'rs arife;
Let op'ning roses knotted oaks adorn,
And liquid amber drop from ev'ry thorn.




VER. 37.



Aurea dura



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