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Let op’ning roses knotted oaks adorn,
And liquid amber drop from ev'ry thorn.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along !
The birds shall cease to tune their ev’ning song, 40
The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move,
And streams to murmur, ere I cease to love.
Not bubbling fountains to the thirsty swain,
Not balmy sleep to lab'rers faint with pain,


Ver. 43. Not bubbling] The turn of these four lines is evidently borrowed from Druinmond of Hawthwarden, a charming but neglected Poet. He was born 1585, and died 1649. His verses are as smooth as Waller's, whom he preceded many years, having written a poem to King James, 1617; whereas Waller's first composition was to Charles I, 1625. His Sonnets are exquisitely beautiful and correct. He was one of our first, and best imitators of the Italian Poets, and Milton had certainly read and admired him, as appears by many passages that might be quoted for that purpose. The four lines mentioned above follow;

To virgins flow'rs, to sun-burnt earth the rain,
To mariners fair winds amid the main,
Cool shades to pilgrims, whom hot glances burn,

Are not fo pleasing as thy blest return.
And afterwards again our author borrows in Abelard ;

The grief was common, common were the cries. I will just add, that Drayton’s Pastorals, and his Nymphidia, do not seem to be attended to so much as they deserve.


" Aurea durae Mala ferant quercus; narcislo floreat alnus, Pinguia corticibus fudent electra myricae."

P. Ver. 43, &c.] “ Quale sopor feffis in gramine, quale per aestum Dulcis aquae faliente, fitim restinguere rivo.”

Ecl. v.

P. Not

VER. 37.

Virg. Ecl. viii.

Not show'rs to larks, nor shun-fhine to the bee, 45 Are half so charming as thy sight to me.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! Come, Delia, come; ah, why this long delay? Thro' rocks and caves the name of Delia founds, Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds.

50 Ye pow'rs, what pleasing phrenzy fooths


mind! Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind? She comes, my Delia comes !-Now cease my lay, And cease, ye gales, to bear my sighs away!

Next Aegon fung, 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 : бо. While lab'ring oxen, spent with toil and heat, In their loose traces from the field retreat : While curling smoaks from village tops are feen, And the fleet shades glide o'er the dusky green.

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay! 65 Beneath yon' poplar oft we past the day:


Ver. 48. Originally thus in the MS.

With him through Lybia’s burning plains I'll go,
On Alpine mountains tread th' eternal snow;
Yet feel no heat but what our loves impart,
And dread no coldness but in Thyrfis heart.

VER. 52. “ An qui amant, ipfi fibi fomnia fingunt ?"

Id. viii.


P. Oft'

Oft' on the rind I cary'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! shall all things yield returns but love?

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 lost my heart while I preserv'd my sheep.

80 Pan came, and ask'd, 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!

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strains ! I'll fly 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 fuck, and favage tigers fed. go


REMARKS. Ver. 82. dart?] It should be darted; the present tense is used for the sake of the rhyme.

IMITATIONS. Ver. 82. Or what ill eyes]

“ Nescio quis teneros oculus mihi fascinat agnos." VOL. I.



Thou wert from Aetna’s burning entrails torn,
Got by fierce whirlwinds, and in thunder born!

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay!
Farewel, 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 ! Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night, The skies yet blufhing with departing light, When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade, And the low sun had lengthen’d ev'ry shade.


REMARKS. VER.97. Thus fung] Among the multitude of English Poets who wrote pastorals, Fairfax, to whom our Verfification is thought to be so much indebted, ought to be mentioned. He wrote ten or twelve Eclogues after the accession of James I. They were like those of Mantuan and Spenfer, allegorical, and alluded to the manners and characters of the times, and contained many satyrical strokes against the King and his Court. They were loft in the fire that consumed the Banquetting House at Whitehall; but it is said that Mr. W. Fairfax, his son, recovered them from his father's papers ; the fourth of them was published by Mrs. Cooper in the Muses Library, 1737.

Ver.98. 100.] There is a little inaccuracy here; the first line makes the time after sun-set; the second, before.

W. Ver. 100. And the low fun] Mr. Gray's Evening, described in the two first stanzas of his excellent Elegy, is far more picturesque and poetical. I would propose to read the two first lines of his elegy with a new punctuation, as follows:

The curfew tolls! the knell of parting day!

IMITATIONS. VER. 89. "Nunc fcio quid fit Amor : duris in cotibus illum,” &c.

P.. This from Virgil is much inferior to the passage in Theocritus, from whence it is taken.




D A P H N E.


· Y CID Å S.
HYRśis, the music of that murm'ring spring

Is not so mournful as the strains you sing.
Nor rivers winding through the vales below,
So sweetly warble, or fo fmoothly flow.

Winter.] This was the Poet's favourite Paftoral.

Mrs. Tempeft.] This Lady was of an ancient family in Yorkshire, and particularly admired by the Author's friend Mr. Walsh *, who having celebrated her in a Pastoral Elegy, defired his friend to do the same, as appears from one of his

Letters, IMITATIONS. Ver. 1. Thirfis, the music, &c.] ANTI, &c. Theocr. Id. i.

* On lately reading Mr. Walsh's Preface to Dryden's translation of Virgil's Eclogues, I was convinced he had a greater Share of learning than he is usually allowed to poffefs. His ftrictures on the French language and manners, and on Fontenelle's affected and unnatural eclogues, as well as on his vain attempt to depreciate the Ancients, are very folid and judicious. To what he has faid of Virgil may be added, that one of the most natural strokes in all his eclogues, is the shepherd's reckoning his years by the fucceffion of his loves ;

Poftquam nos Amaryllis habet
This paftoral çlironology is much in character.

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