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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 loft my heart while I presery'd my sheep. 80 Pan came, and ask, what magic caus’d my smart, 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! 84 Resound, ye hills, resound

my mournful strains! I'll Ay from shepherds, flocks, and flow'ry plains. From shepherds, flocks, and plains, I may remove, Forsake mankind, and all the world --- but love! I know thee, Love! on foreign mountains bred, Wolves gave thee suck, and favage tigers fed. 91 Thou wert from Ætna’s burning entrails torn, Got by fierce whirlwinds, and in thunder born! Resound, ye hills, resound

hills, resound my mournful lay! Farewell, ye woods, adieu the light of day! One leap from yonder cliff shall end my pains, 95. No more, ye hills, no more resound


strains !

VER. 82. Or what ill eyes]

Nescio quis teneros oculus mihi fascinat agnos. P.
VER.89. Nunc scio quid sit Amor: duris in cotibus illum,etc.P.

Thus sung the shepherds till th’approach of night, The skies yet blushing with departing light, When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade, And the low fun had lengthen'd ev'ry shade. rog


Ver. 98. 700.] There is a little inaccuracy here, the first line makes the time after sun-set; the second, before.





0 R

D Α. Ρ Η ΝΕ.

To the Memory of Mrs. Tempest.

HYRSIS, the music of that murm’ring spring

Is not so mournful as the strains you fing,
Nor rivers winding thro' the vales below,
So sweetly warble, or so smoothly flow.


Winter. This was the Poet's favourite Paftoral.

Mrs. Tempeft.] This Lady was of an ancient family in Yorkfire, and particularly admired by the Author's friend Mr. Walth, who, having celebrated her in a Paftoral Elegy, desired

IMITATIONS. VER. 1. Thyrfis, the music, etc.] 'Adú Ti, etc. Theocr. Id. i.

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 !

Behold the


that shine with silver frost, Their beauty wither'd, and their verdure loft. 10 Here shall I try the sweet Alexis' strain, That call’d the list’ning Dryads to the plain? Thames heard the numbers as he flow'd along, And bade his willows learn the moving song.


his friend to do the same, as appears from one of his Letters, dated Sept. 9, 1706. . “ Your latt Eclogue being on the same “ subject with mine on Mrs. Tempeft's death, I thould 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. P.

VER. 9. shine with silver frost,] The image is a fine one, but improperly placed. The idea he would raise is the deformity of Winter, as appears by the following line: but this imagery contradicts it. It should have been ---glare with hoary froj, or some such expression: the fame inaccuracy in Ý 31, where he uses pearls, when he should have said tears.

IMITATIONS. Ver. 13. Thames heard etc.)

Audit Eurotas, juflitque ediscere lauros, Virg. P.



kind rains their vital moisture yield, 15
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.

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 dy'd;
And with your golden darts, now useless grown,
Inscribe a verse on this relenting stone: 26
“ Let nature change, let heav'n 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 chearful day!

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Ver. 29. Originally thus in the MS.

'Tis done, and nature's chang'd since you are gones
Behold the clouds have put their Mourning on.

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VER. 23, 24, 25.

Inducite fontibus umbras ---
Et tumulum facite, et tumulo fuperaddite carmen. P.

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