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No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field,
Nor fragrant herbs their native incense yield.
The balmy Zephyrs, filent since her death,
Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath ;

50 Th’industrious bees neglect their golden store ! Fair Daphne's dead, and sweetness is no more!

No more the mounting larks, while Daphne fings, Shall list’ning in mid-air suspend their wings; No more the birds shall imitate her lays,

Or hush'd with wonder, hearken from the sprays:
No more the streams their murmurs shall forbear,
A sweeter music than their own to hear,
But tell the reeds, and tell the vocal shore,
Fair Daphne's dead, and music is no more! 60

Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze,
And told in sighs to all the trembling trees ;
The trembling trees, in ev'ry plain and wood,
Her fate remurmur to the silver flood;
The filver flood, so lately calm, appears

65 Swell'd with new passion, and o'erflows with tears; The winds, and trees, and floods, her death deplore, Daphne, our grief! our glory now no more !


REMARKS. VER. 54. Here the circumstances of the lark suspending its wings in mid-air, is highly beautiful, because the image is distinct, and there is a veri-fimilitudo in it, which is not the case where a waterfall is made to be suspended by the power of Music.

Ver. 61. &c. Her fate is whispered] All this is very poor, and unworthy Pope. First, the breeze whispers the death of Daphne to the trees; then the trees inform the flood of it ; then the flood

6 o'erflows

But see! where Daphne wond'ring mounts on high Above the clouds, above the starry sky!

70 Eternal beauties grace the shining scene, Fields ever fresh, and groves for ever green ! There while you rest in Amaranthine bow'rs, Or from those meads select unfading flow’rs, Behold us kindly, who your name implore, 75 Daphne, our Goddess, and our grief no more!



“ o’erflows with tears ;” and then they all “ deplore” together! Let us, however, still remember the youth of Pope, and the example of prior poets. In Camden's remains there is acurious Epitaph, where such ideas are carried to the greatest excess.

If I recollect rightly, the people, upon the death of the Queen, are called upon to shed so many tears, that the watermen might row to Whitehall in their eyes, instead of on the Thames.

The whole Pastoral would have been much more classical, correct, and pure, if thefe eight lines,

(Her fate, &c. to Daphne is dead) had been omitted.

VER. 70. Above the clouds,] In Spenser's November, and in Milton's Lycidas, is the fame beautiful change of circumitances: in the latter most exquisite, from line 165.

Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more,
Where other groves and other streams along,
With nectar


his locks he laves,
And hears the inexpressive nuptial song
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.




VER. 69, 70.

« miratur limen Olympi, Sub pedibusque videt nubes et fydera Daphnis.” Virg. P.


How all things listen, while thy Muse complains ! Such filence waits on Philomela's strains, In some still ev’ning, when the whisp’ring breeze Pants on the leaves, and dies upon the trees.

To thee, bright goddess, oft a lamb shall bleed,
If teeming ewes increase my fleecy breed.
While plants their shade, or flow'rs their odours give,
Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise shall live!

But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews;
Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse;
Sharp Boreas blows, and Nature feels decay,
Time conquers all, and we must Time obey.



VER. 83. Originally thus in the MS.

While vapours rise, and driving snows defcend,
Thy honour, name, and praise, shall never end,

REMARKS. VÆR. 85. unwholesome dews ;] Observe how the melody of those four verses is improved, by the pune iambic foot at the end of each line, except the second,

un wholesomê dews

děcây obey.


« illius aran Sæpe tener nofris ab ovilibus imbuet agnus." Virg. P. V SR. 86. “ folet effe gravis cantantibus umbra, Juniperi gravis umbra." Ving.

P. Ver. 88. Time conquers all, &c.)

« Omnia vincit amor, et nos cedamus amori." Vid. etiam Sanpazarü Ecl. et Spenser's Calendar.


Adieu, ye vales, ye mountains, streams, and groves,
Adieu, ye shepherds' rural lays and loves; 90
Adieu, my flocks; farewel, ye fylvan crew;
Daphne, farewel; and all the world adieu !

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REMARKS, Ver. 89, &c.] These four last lines allude to the several subjects of the four Pastorals, and to the several scenes of them, particularized before in each.


rs gie we!

The Sycophancy of A. Phillips, who had prejudiced Mr. Addison against Pope, occasioned those papers in the Guardian, written by the latter, in which there is an ironical preference given to the Pastorals of Phillips, above his own; in order to fupport the profound judgment of those who could not distinguish between the rural and the rustic ; and, on that account, condemned the Paftorals of Pope for wanting fimplicity. These papers were sent by an unknown hand to Steele, and the irony escaping him, he communicated them' to Mr. Pope, declaring he would never publish any paper, where one of the Club was complimented at the expence of another. Pope told him he was too delicate, and insisted that the papers should be published in the Guardian. They were so. And the pleasantry escaped all but Addison : who, taking Pope afide, said to him in his agreeable manner, You have put your friends here in a very ridiculous light, as will be feen when it is understood, as it must foon be, that you was only laughing at the admirers of Phillips.

But this ill conduct of Phillips occafioned a more open ridicule of his Pastorals, in the mock poem called the Shepherd's Week, written by Gay. But, though more open, the object of it was ill understood by those who were strangers to the quarrel. These miftook the Shepherd's Week for a Burlesque of Virgil's Palorals. How far this goes towards a vindication of Phillips's fimple painting, let others judge.

WARBURTON. A mixture of British and Grecian ideas may justly be deemed a blemish in these Pastorals : and propriety is certainly violated, when he couples Pactolus with Thames, and Windsor with



Hybla. Complaints of immoderate heat, and wishes to be core veyed to cooling caverns, when uttered by the inhabitants of Greece, have a decorum and confiftency, which they totally lose in the character of a British shepherd : and Theocritus, during the ardors of Sirius, must have heard the murmurings of a brook, and the whispers of a pine, with more home felt pleasure, than Pope could possibly experience upon the fame occafion. We can never completely relish, or adequately understand any author, especially any ancient, except we keep in our eye his climate, his country, and his age. Pope himself informs us, in a note, that he judiciously omitted the following verfe,

And lift'ning wolves grow milder as they hear, on account of the absurdity, which Spenser overlooked, of introducing wolves into England. But on this principle, which is certainly a just one, may it not be asked why he should speak, the scene lying in Windsor Forest, of the sultry Sirius, of the grateful clusters of gropes, of a pipe of reeds, the antique fiftula, of thanking Ceres for a plentiful harvest, of the facrifice of lambs, with many other instances that might be adduced to this purpose. That Pope however was fenfible of the importance of adapting images to the scene of action, is obvious from the following example of his judgment; for in translating

Audiit Eurotas, jussitque ediscere Lauros, he bas dexterously dropt the laurels appropriated to Eurotas, as he is speaking of the river Thames, and has rendered it,

Thames heard the numbers, as he flow'd along,

And bade his Willows learn the moving fong. In the passages which Pope has imitated from Theocritus, and from his Latin Translator Virgil, he has merited but little applause. It may not be unentertaining to see how coldly and unpoetically Pope has copied the subsequent appeal to the Nymphs on the death of Daphnis, in comparison of Milton ou Lycidas, one of his juvenile, but one of his most exquilite, picces.

Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep
Clos’d o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas ?
For neither were ye playing on the steep
Wlvere your old bards, the famous Druids lie ;
Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,
Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream.



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