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Eneath 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' filld the Grove. Ye Mantuan nymphs, your sacred succour bring; 5 Hylas and Ægon's rural lays I fing.
Thou, whom the Nine with Plautus’ wit inspire, The art of Terence, and Menander's fire;
REMARKS. This Paftoral consists of two parts, like the viith of Virgil : The Scene, a Hill; the Time at Sun-fet. P.
VER. 7. Thou, whom the Nine,) Mr. Wycherley, a famous
Whose sense instructs us and whose humour charms,
author of Comedies; of which the most celebrated were the Plain-Dealer and Country-Wife. He was a writer of infinite fpirit, 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; tho' with a little more correctness. P.
VER. 8. The art of Terence and Menander's fire;] This line alludes to that famous character given of Terence, by Cæfar:
Tu quoque, tu in summis, ô dimidiate Menander,
Comica. So that the judicious critic sees he should have said - with Menander's fire. For what the Poet meant, was, that his Friend had joined, to Terence's art, what Cæsar thought wanting in Terence, namely the vis comica of Menander. Besides, --- and Menander's fire is making that the Characteristic of Menander which was not. He was distinguished for having art and comic spirit in conjunction, and Terence having only the first part, is called the half of Menander:
Ver. 9. Whoje fense instructs us] He was always very carefull in his encomiums not to fall into ridicule, the trap which weak and prostitute Aatterers rarely escape. For, sense, he would willingly have said, moral; propriety required it. But this dramatic poet's moral was remarkably faulty. His plays are all shamefully profligate both in the Dialogue and Action. Vol. I,
When tuneful Hylas with melodious moan, 15 Taught rocksto weep and madethemountains groan.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away! To Delia's ear the tender notes convey. As fome fad Turtle his lost love deplores, And with deep murmurs fills the founding. Thores; Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I mourn, 21 Alike unheard, unpity'd, and forlorn.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along! For her, the feather'd quires neglect their song: For her, the limes their pleasing Thades deny; 25 For her, the lilies hang their heads and die. Ņe flow'rs 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 ?
30 Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! Curs'd be the fields that cause my Delia's stay; Fade ev'ry blossom, wither ev'ry tree, Die ev'ry flow's, and perith all, but she. What have I said? where'er my Delia flies, 35 Let spring attend, and sudden filow'rs arise; Let op'ning roles knotted oaks adorn, And liquid amber drop from ev'ry thorn,
Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along!
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
With him thro' Libya's burning plains I'll go,
Quale sopor feffis in gramine, quale per æstum
Dulcis aquæ faliente litim reftinguere rivo. Ed. v. P. Ver. 52. An qui amant, ipfi fibi fomnia fingunt? Id. viii. P. Next Ægon sung, while Windsor groves admir'd; · Rehearse, ye Muses, what yourselves inspir’d.
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strain! Of perjur'd Doris, dying I complain : Here where the mountains, less’ning as they rise, Lose the low vales, and steal into the skies; 60 While lab’ring oxen, spent with toil and heat, In their loose traces from the field retreat: While curling smoaks from village-tops are seen, And the fleet shades glide o'er the dusky green.
Refound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay! 65 Beneath yon' poplar oft we past the day: Oft' on the rind I carv'd her am'rous 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. 70
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; 75 Just Gods! Thall all things yield returns but love?
REMARKS. VER 74. And grateful clusters, etc.] The scene is in Windr-forest; so this image not fo exact.