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When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade, And the low sun had lengthen'd ev'ry shade.

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REMARKS. or twelve Eclogues after the accession of James I. They were like those of Mantuan and Spenser, allegorical, and alluded to the manners and characters of the times, and contained many fatyrical 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.

WARTON. I wonder Dr. Warton should have omitted Browne's Britan. ia's Pastorals, an almost forgotten work, but containing some images of rural beauty which Milton did not disdain sometimes to copy.

See T. Warton's edition of Miiton's smaller poems, page 53.

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

WARBURTON.

WINTER:

THE FOURTH PASTORAL,

OR

DAPHNE.

TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. TEMPEST.

LYCIDA S.

THYRSI
HYRSIS, the music of that murm'ring spring

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

now

REMARKS.

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

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

Sept. IMITATIONS. Ver. 1. Thirfis, the music, &c.] Adu tu, &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 possess. His stri&tures on thie French language and manners, and on Fontenelle’s affected and unnatural Eclogues, as well as on his vain attempe to depreciate the Ancients, are very solid and judicious. To what he has said 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 fucceflion of his loves;

Poftquam nos Amaryllis habet ---This paftoral chronology is much in character.

5

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 !

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10

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

L Y CI DA S.

So may

kind rains their vital moisture yield, 15 And fwell 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

20

REMARKS. Sept. 9, 1706. “Your laft Eclogue being on the same subject with mine, on Mrs. Tempest's death, I should 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.

Pope. I do not find

any lines that allude to the great storm of whiclı the Poet speaks.

WARTON. IMITATIONS. VER. 13. Thames heard, &c.]

* Audiit Eurotas, juffitque ediscere lauros." Virg. P.

THYRSIS.

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, 25 Inscribe a verse on this relenting stone : “ 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!

30 Now

VARIATIONS,
Ver. 29. Originally thus in the MS.

'Tis done, and nature chang'd fince you are gone ;
Behold the clouds have put their Mourning on.

WARSURTOX.

REMARKS. VER. 21. Let Nymphs and Sylvans, &c.] This line recalls a pathetic little ballad, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Maid's Tragedy:

Lay a garland on my hearfe

Of the dismal yew,
Maidens, willow branches bear,

Say I died true.
My love was false, but I was true,

From my hour of birth :
Upon my buried body lie

Softly, gentle earth!
Ver. 31. Now hung with pearls, &c.]
And hung a pearl in every cowfip's ear.**

Mid-Summer Night's Dream.—SteveYS.

IMITATIONS.
VER, 23, 24, 25 “ Inducite fontibus umbras -

Et tumulum facite, et tumulo fuperaddite carmen."

P.

Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear,
Their faded honours scatter'd on her bier..
See, where on earth the flow'ry glories lie,
With her they flourish'd, and with her they die.
Ah what avail the beauties nature wore ?

35 Fair Daphne's dead, and beauty is no more!

For her the flocks refuse their verdant food,
The thirsty heifers fhun the gliding flood,
The silver swans her hapless fate bemoan,
In notes more sad than when they fing their own;
In hollow caves sweet Echo silent lies,

41
Silent, or only to her name replies;
Her name with pleasure once she taught the shore,
Now Daphne's dead and pleasure is no more!
No grateful dews descend from ev'ning skies,

45 Nor morning odours from the flow’rs arise ;

No

REMARKS. VER. 41. Sweet Echo] This expreffion of sweet Echo is taken from Comus ; as is another expression, loose traces, Third Paft. v. 62. And he recommends these poems in high terms to Sir W. Trum. ball (see the Letters) so early as the year 1704.

WARTON. Ve*. 41. In hollow caves sweet Echo flent lies. ]

" The cave where echo lies.” Romeo and Juliet. Stevens.
Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'dit unseen.

Oh if thou have,
Hid them in some flow'ry cave,

COMUS.
Αχω δ' εν πετρωσιν οδυρεται, οττι σιωπη,

KBκετι μιμείται τη σα κειλεα. Compare Moschus's beautiful Epitaphium Bionis. “ Echo mourns amid the rocks, that soe must now be filent, nor ever imitale again thy lips."

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