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Me gentle Delia beckons from the plain, Then hid in fhades, eludes her eager fwain; But feigns a laugh, to see me search around, And by that laugh the willing fair is found.
The fprightly Sylvia trips along the green,
O'er golden fands let rich Pactolus flow, And trees weep amber on the banks of Po;
VER. 61. It food thus at first,
Let rich Iberia golden fleeces boast,
Her purple wool the proud Affyrian coaft,
VER. 61. Originally thus in the MS.
Go, flow'ry wreath, and let my Sylvia know,
Go, tuneful bird, that pleas'd the woods fo long,
To Heav'n arifing then her notes convey,
VER. 60. How much at variance] A very trifling and falfe conceit, and too witty for the occafion.
VER. 58. She runs, but hopes] Imitation of Virgil, "Malo me Galatea petit, lafciva puella,
Et fugit ad falices, fed fe cupit ante videri,”
Bright Thames's shores the brightest beauties yield,
Celestial Venus haunts Idalia's groves;
All nature mourns, the skies relent in fhow'rs, Hufh'd are the birds, and clos'd the drooping flow'rs; If Delia fmile, the flow'rs begin to fpring, 71
The skies to brighten, and the birds to fing.
All nature laughs, the groves are fresh and fair,
If Sylvia fmiles, new glories gild the shore,
In fpring the fields, in autumn hills I love,
At morn the plains, at noon the shady grove,
But Delia always; abfent from her fight,
Nor plains at morn, nor groves at noon delight. 80
VER. 69, &c. These verses were thus at firft:
All nature mourns, the birds their fongs deny,
VER. 69. All nature mourns,]
"Aret ager, vitio moriens fitit aëris herba," &c.
"Phyllidis adventu noftræ nemus omne virebit." Virg. POPE.
Sylvia's like autumn ripe, yet mild as May, More bright than noon, yet fresh as early day; Ev'n spring displeases, when the fhines not here; But bleft with her, 'tis fpring throughout the year.
Say, Daphnis, fay, in what glad foil appears, A wondrous Tree that facred Monarchs bears; Tell me but this, and I'll disclaim the prize, And give the conqueft to thy Sylvia's eyes.
Nay tell me first, in what more happy fields
Ceafe to contend, for, Daphnis, I decree, The bowl to Strephon, and the lamb to thee:
VER. 86. A wondrous Tree that facred Monarchs bears ;] An allufion to the Royal Oak, in which Charles II. had been hid from the purfuit after the battle at Worcester. POPE.
This is one of the moft trifling and puerile conceits in any of our author's works; except what follows of the Thistle and the Lily. WARTON.
VER. 93. Ceafe to contend,] An author of ftrong fenfe, Dr. Johnson, fays, "That every intelligent reader fickens at the
VER. 90. The Thifle fprings, to which the Lily yields:] Alludes to the device of the Scots Monarchs, the Thistle, worn by Queen Anne; and to the arms of France, the Fleur de lys. The two riddles are in imitation of those in Virg. Ecl. iii.
"Dic quibus in terris infcripti nomina Regum
Bleft Swains, whofe Nymphs in ev'ry grace excel; 95
VER. 99. was originally,
The turf with country dainties fhall be spread,
And trees with twining branches fhade your head. POFE.
mention of the crook and the pipe, the sheep and the kids." This appears to be an unjust and harsh condemnation of all Paftoral Poetry. WARTON.
Surely Dr. Johnson's decrying the affected introduction of the "crook and pipe," &c. into English Paftorals, is not a condemnation of all Paftoral Poetry. Dr. Johnfon certainly could not very highly relish this fpecies of Poetry, witness his harsh criticisms on Milton's exquifite Lycidas, &c. but we almost forgive his feverity on feveral genuine pieces of poetic excellence, when we confider that he has done a fervice to truth and nature, in fpeaking with a proper and dignified contempt of fuch trite puerilities.
THE SECOND PASTORAL.
TO DR. GARTH.
A Shepherd's Boy (he feeks no better name)
Led forth his flocks along the filver Thame, Where dancing fun-beams on the waters play'd, And verdant alders form'd a quiv'ring fhade.
VER. 1, 2, 3, 4, were thus printed in the first edition
There to the winds he plain'd his hapless love,
VER. 1. Spenfer's Shepherd's Calendar, January:
VER. 3. The Scene of this Paftoral by the river fide, fuitable to the heat of the season; the Time, noon.
When Winter's wasteful spight was almost spent,
Led forth his flock, that had been long ypent