"How fhall I part, and whither wander down
"Into a lower world, to this obfcure

"And wild? How fhall we breathe in other air
"Lefs pure, accuftom'd to immortal fruits?"

Almost innumerable would be the examples we could prefent the reader of this kind out of Milton, but as we think he has now before him fufficient to answer the purpofe of practice in reading, and as we are compelled to keep each department of our work within its proper bounds, in order that we may be able to introduce as much variety of matter as will reuder the selection entertaining, we fhall here clofe our extracts from Paradife Loft. If the fcholar make himself competent to the proper reading of what we have given out of this incomparable poem, he may be affured that it will be in his power to afford confiderable pleasure to his hearers, by perufing any other part he may think proper to fix

upon.

PASTORALS.

We fhall now give the scholar a few paftorals, the most prominent features of which are fimplicity and delicacy of expreffion. The reader ought to confider a neat, unaffected foftness of delivery, as effential qualities, in order that thefe compofitions fhould be read

with their proper effect. We do not know of any that will answer the purpose of the reader's exercise better man the well-known paftoral ballad, in four parts, written by Shenftone. It feems to poffefs the leading characteristics of this fpecies of poetry in the highest degree, and as fuch we fhall infert the whole in our volume.-Let your voice be particularly Smooth and pleasant to the ear, with nothing loitering and heavy in its tone. Some exceptions will Some exceptions will occur, which we shall point out as we go on.

ABSENCE.

YE fhepherds fo cheerful and gay,
Whose flocks never careleffly roam;
Should Corydon's happen to stray,
O call the poor wanderers home.
Allow me to muse and to figh,

Nor talk of the change that ye find;
None once was fo watchful as I-

I have left my dear Phillis behind.

Now I know what it is to have strove
With the torture of doubt and defire;
What it is, to admire and to love,

And to leave her we love and admire.
Ah, lead forth my flocks in the morn,
And the damps of each evening repel;
Alas! I am faint and forlorn-

I have bade my dear Phillis farewel.

Since

Since Phillis vouchfaf'd me a look,

I never once dream'd of my vine:
May I lose both my pipe and my crook,
If I knew of a kid that was mine.
I priz'd ev'ry hour that went by,

Beyond all that had pleas'd me before;
But now they are pafs'd, and I figh,
And I grieve that I priz'd them no more.

But why do I languish in vain?

Why wander thus penfively here?
O why did I come from the plain,
Where I fed on the fmiles of my
They tell me my favourite maid,

The pride of that valley is flown!
Alas, where with her I have ftray'd,

dear?

I could wander with pleasure, alone.

. There is a defponding melancholy throughout most parts of these verses and the two following, that must be attended to by the reader. Although the words must not drag upon the ear, ftill your tone must be pensive, and your manner a little dejected.

When forc'd the fair nymph to forego,
What anguish I felt at my heart!
Yet I thought-but it might not be fo-
'Twas with pain that she saw me depart.

She gaz'd, as I flowly withdrew;

My path I could hardly difcern;

So fweetly the bade me adieu,
`I thought that the bade me return.

The

The pilgrim that journeys all day
To vifit fome far diftant fhrine,
If he bear but a relic away,

Is happy, nor heard to repine.
Thus widely remov'd from the fair,
Where my vows, my devotion, I owe,
Soft hope is the relic I bear,
And my folace wherever I go.

HOPE.

Now you must throw off that penfiveness and me lancholy which we recommended you to mingle with the eafy unaffected manner fo neceffary in reading the foregoing. Let your voice be trippingly harmonious, and your looks cheerful and pleafant in the following.

MY banks they are furnish'd with bees,
Whofe murmur invites me to fleep;
My grottos are shady with trees,

And my hills are white over with sheep.

I feldom have met with a lofs,

Such health do my fountains bestow;
My fountains all border'd with mofs,
Where the hare-bells and violets grow.

Not

Not a pine in my grove is there feen,
But with tendrils of woodbine is bound,
Not a beech's more beautiful green,

But a fweet-briar twines it around.
Not my fields, in the prime of the year,
More charms than my cattle unfold:
Not a brook that is limpid and clear,
But it glitters with fishes of gold.

One would think the might like to retire
To the bow'r I have labour'd to rear;
Not a fhrub that I heard her adınire,
But I hafted and planted it there.
O how fudden the jeffamine ftrove
With the lilac to render it gay!
Already it calls for my love,

To prune the wild branches away.

From the plains, from the woodlands, and groves,
What strains of wild melody flow!
How the nightingales warble their loves

From thickets of rofes that blow!

And when her bright form fhall appear,
Each bird fhall harmoniously join
In a concert fo foft and fo clear,
As-fhe may not be fond to refign.

I have found out a gift for my fair,

I have found where the wood-pigeons breed, But let me the plunder forbear,

She will fay 'twas a barbarous deed.

3

For