ON THE DEATH OF

AMYNTA S.

A PASTORAL ELEGY.

'TWAS on a joylefs and a gloomy morn,

Wet was the grass, and hung with pearls the

thorn ;

When Damon, who defign'd to pass the day With hounds and horns, and chase the flying

prey,

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Rofe early from his bed; but foon he found
The welkin pitch'd with fullen clouds around,
An eastern wind, and dew upon the ground.
Thus while he stood, and fighing did survey
The fields, and curft the ill omens of the day,
He faw Menalcas come with heavy pace;
Wet were his eyes, and chearless was his face:
He wrung his hands, diftracted with his care,
And fent his voice before him from afar.
Return, he cry'd, return, unhappy swain,
The fpungy clouds are fill'd with gathering rain:
The promise of the day not only crofs'd,
But e'en the spring, the fpring itself is loft.

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Amyntas-oh!—he could not speak the rest,
Nor needed, for prefaging Damon guefs'd.
Equal with heaven young Damon lov'd the boy,
The boaft of nature, both his parents' joy. 21
His graceful form revolving in his mind;
So great a genius, and a foul fo kind,
Gave fad affurance that his fears were true;
Too well the envy of the gods he knew:
For when their gifts too lavishly are plac'd,
Soon they repent, and will not make them last.
For fure it was too bountiful a dole,

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The mother's features, and the father's foul. Then thus he cry'd: The morn bespoke the

news:

The morning did her chearful light diffuse:

But fee how fuddenly the chang'd her face, And brought on clouds and rain, the day's difgrace;

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Just such, Amyntas, was thy promis'd race. What charms adorn'd thy youth, where nature

fmil'd

And more then man was given us in a child!
His infancy was ripe: a foul fublime
In years fo tender that prevented time:
Heaven gave him all at once; then fnatch'd-

away,

Ere mortals all his beauties could furvey: 40 Juft like the flower that buds and withers in a

day.

35

MENALCAS.

The mother, lovely, though with grief op
preft,

Reclin'd his dying head upon her breaft.
The mournful family ftood all around;
One groan was heard, one univerfal found:
All were in floods of tears and endless forrow
drown'd.

So dire a fadness fat on every look,

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E'en Death repented he had given the stroke. He griev'd his fatal work had been ordain'd, But promis'd length of life to those who yet remain'd.

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The mother's and her eldest daughter's grace,
It feems, had brib'd him to prolong their space.
The father bore it with undaunted foul,
Like one who durft his destiny controul:
Yet with becoming grief he bore his part, 55
Refign'd his fon, but not refign'd his heart.
Patient as Job; and may he live to fee,
Like him, a new increafing family!

DAMON.

Such is my wifh, and fuch my prophecy, For yet, my friend, the beauteous mould re

mains ;

Long may the exercise her fruitful pains! But, ab! with better hap, and bring a race More lafting, and endu'd with equal grace !

60

Equal fhe may, but farther none can go:
For he was all that was exact below.

MENALCAS.

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Damon, behold yon breaking purple cloud; Hear'ft thou not hymns and fongs divinely loud?

There mounts Amyntas; the young cherubs

play

About their godlike mate, and fing him on his

way.

He cleaves the liquid air, behold, he flies, 70
And every moment gains upon the skies.
The new-come gueft admires the ætherial state,
The faphir portal, and the golden gate;
And now admitted in the fhining throng,
He shows the paffport which he brought along.
His paffport is his innocence and grace,
Well known to all the natives of the place.
Now fing, ye joyful angels, and admire
Your brother's voice that comes to mend

quire:

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your

Sing you, while endless tears our eyes bestow; For like Amyntas none is left below.

81

Ver. 81. For like Amyntas] This paftoral is very unworthy of our author.

Dr. J. WARTON.

ON THE DEATH OF A

VERY YOUNG GENTLEMAN.

HE

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E who could view the book of destiny, And read whatever there was writ of thee, O charming youth, in the first opening page, So many graces in fo green an age, Such wit, fuch modefty, such strength of mind, A foul at once fo manly, and so kind; Would wonder, when he turn'd the volume o'er, And after fome few leaves fhould find no more, Nought but a blank remain, a dead void space, A ftep of life that promis'd fuch a race. We must not, dare not think, that Heaven

began

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A child, and could not finish him a man;
Reflecting what a mighty ftore was laid
Of rich materials, and a model made:
The coft already furnish'd; fo bestow'd,
As more was never to one foul allow'd:
Yet after this profufion spent in vain,
Nothing but mouldering ashes to remain,
I guess not, left I split upon the shelf,
Yet durft I guess, Heaven kept it for himself;