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Let other fwains attend the rural care, Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces fheer: 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 Inspir'd when living, and bequeath'd in death : 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 The captive bird that fings within thy bow'r! Then might my voice thy lift'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 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 bestow'd again.


VER. 39. Colin] The name taken by Spenfer in his Eclogues, where his miftrefs is celebrated under that of Rofalinda. P.


VER. 40. bequeath'd in death; etc.] Virg. Ecl. ii.
Eft mihi difparibus feptem compacta cicutis
Fiftula, Damotas dono mihi quam dedit olim,
Et dixit moriens, Te nunc habet ifta fecundum. P.

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For you the fwains the fairest flow'rs defign, 55
And in one garland all their beauties join;
Accept the wreath which deferve alone,
In whom all beauties are compriz'd in one.


See what delights in fylvan fcenes appear!
Defcending Gods have found Elyfium here.
In woods bright Venus with Adonis ftray'd,
And chafte Diana haunts the foreft-fhade.
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.
This harmless grove no lurking viper hides,
But in my breast the serpent Love abides.
Here bees from bloffoms fip the rofy dew,
your Alexis knows no fweets but you. 70
Oh deign to visit our forfaken feats,
The moffy fountains, and the green retreats!
Where'er you walk, cool gales fhall fan the glade,
Trees, where you fit, fhall croud into a fhade:


VEE, 60. Defcending Gods have found Elyfium here.]
Habitarunt Dî quoque fylvas Virg.

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 pafs my days,
Invoke the Muses, and refound your praise!
Your praise the birds fhall chant in ev'ry grove,
And winds fhall waft it to the pow'rs above. 80
But would you fing, and rival Orpheus' strain,
The wond'ring forefts foon fhould dance again,
The moving mountains hear the pow'rful call,
And headlong streams hang lift'ning in their fall!

But fee, the shepherds fhun the noon-day heat, The lowing herds to murm'ring brooks retreat, 86 To closer shades the panting flocks remove; Ye Gods! and is there no relief for Love?

VER. 79, 80.


Your praise 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 Spenfer himself overlooked, of introducing wolves into England. P.


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

Partem aliquam, venti, divûm referatis ad aures!

VER. 88. Ye Gods! etc.]

Virg. P. Me tamen urit amor, quis enim modus adfit amori?

Idem. P.

But foon the fun with milder rays defcends
To the cool ocean, where his journey ends: 90
On me love's fiercer flames for ever prey,

By night he scorches, as he burns by day.


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

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