Afor. Ah! where's that fweet Retreat can thee detain, If thou thy native Country do'ft difdain?
Here are pure Springs, and o'er the Springs are Bowers, Fine Woods and Fruit-Trees, and a world of Flowers.
Alph. But why, fair Nymph, would'st thou be absent When the tweet Strawberry raifes up his Head, (now, Like Morning Sun all delicately red,
And Odorous Bloffoms fpring from every Bough?
Zeb.Don't you my Sheep that yonder Bank come near 'Tis to Parthenia facred all that's there,
Nor wou'd the Grafs be touch'd by any but by Her. Afor.Before fierce Boreas blow with's boisterous Mouth. Or rainy weather come on from the South,
Be fure Parthenia to return again,
Left by the Cold thou fuffer or the Rain.
Alph. In a choice Garden is referv'd for thee,
Sweet Marjoram, and a large Myrtle Tree ;
Myrtles thou always lov'ft, come then if now
Thou ftill lov't Flowers as thou wert wont to do.
Zeb Ripe Apples now hang dangling on the Tree
Ready to drop, and only stay for thee.
The Fig of thy Delay too does complain,
The tender Fig, but let them both remain
'Till thou to thy dear Nazareth return again.
Afor. Return fweet Nymph, and with thee thou fhalt All the Delights and Beauties of the Spring. Fresh Grafs again fhall on the Mountains grow, The Rivers fhall with Milk and Nectar flow. The Woods fhall put on their green Livery, And Nature in her Pomp fhall wait on thee. The Country Swains thall Flowers and Prefents bring, And I a Violet Garland for my Offering. With me thall Azarias come along
Who with a fmooth-wrought Pipe fhall play the Song The Song that Ifrael's Shepherd as he flood
By Jordan's Bank, play'd to the liftning Flood.
Alh. But if thou longer fhould'nt our Hopes deceive, With Rufhes I'll a Basket for thee weave;
Here thy own Nazareth I'll reprefent,
How all things here thy Abfence do lament;
The little Goats thou wandring here fhalt fee
Mournful and fad, and all for want of thee.
The Rivers which before flow'd wift and clear
As glad the Image of thy Face to bear,
Shall move benum'd and flow, whileft on each hand
Appears the thirsty and forfaken Şand.
The Corn fhall droop and languish in the Field,
The Meadows no freth Grafs or Herb fhall yield,
The Fir-Tree which with stately Pride before,
Her curious fhady Locks towards Heaven spread,
Shall now with down-caft Boughs, and penfive Head,
Thy Abfence mourn, and thy Return implore.
Thou round about fhalt all things weeping fee,
If Tears in Rush Work may decipher'd be.
Zeb. Preferve ye Powers, if you don't us difdain,
The Nymph, whileft the runs panting o'er the Plain
And while fhe's abfent fince the once had Love
For thefe our Fields, take care ye Powers above
That neither Rivers do their Banks o'erflow,
Nor Storms the Paftures fpoil,or ripen'd Corno'erthrow.
(be free,
Afor.From Night-Fires let our Stalls (fweet Nymph)
Defend from Heat the Rofe,from Cold the Myrtle-tree,
While Rose and Myrtle are belov'd by thee,
That if you chance to caft a longing Eye
Back on thefe Fields, now naked and forlorn,
We may have ftill fome Flowers left to fupply
Garlands t' exprefs our Joy, and Dreffes you t' adorn.
Alph. Hafte not, if through rough ways thy Journey
Halte not, the Heat will prove an Injury.
Let not the Sun thy brighter Beauties fpoil:
Ah! why wilt thou undo thy felf with too much Toil?
Take pleafing Shelter in fome gentle Shade
'Till the Day flacken, and the Heat b'allay'd.
Zeb. Parthenia, why dolt thou our Hopes prolong?
Perhaps too fome ill Pipe, and worfer Song;
D 3
Now grate thy Ears, whil'it thy poor Country Swain
On the deaf Winds beftows fweet lays in vain.
Hang there my Pipe till fhe return, and be
A filent Monument of my Mifery.
For what are Songs or Mirth without her Company?
Azor. Our hills fhall mourn while diftant coafts you
Anamis fhall not dance nor Sabaris.
The fields, the naked fields no Songs shall know,
And Brooks their difcontent by murmuring Streams fhall
Thus did the Swains the abfent Nymph lament, (shew.
The neighbouring Woods to Heav'n the doleful Accents
The Tenth Ode of the Second Book of Horace,
IS much the better way, believe me 'tis,
Not far to venture on the great Abyss,
Nor yet from Storms thy Veffel to fecure,
To touch too nigh upon the dangerous Shore.
The Golden Mean, as fhe's too nice to dwell
Among the ruins of a filthy Cell,
So is her Modefty withall as great
To baulk the envy of a Princely Seat.
Th' ambitious Winds with greater fpite Combine.
To fhock the grandeur of the ftately Pine.
The height of Structures makes the ruin large, (charge.
And Clouds against high Hills their hottest bolts dif-
An even well-pois'd Mind, an evil State
With Hope, a good with Fear does moderate.
The Summers Pride, by Winter is brought down,
And Flowers again the Conquering feafon Crown.
Take Heart, nor of the Laws of Fate complain,
Tho now 'tis Cloudy, 'twill Clear up again.
The Bow Apollo does not always ufe
But with his milder Lyre fometimes awakes the Mufe.
Be Life and Spirit, when Fortune proves unkind,
And fummon up the Vigour of thy Mind.
But when thou'rt driven by too officious Gales,
Be wife, and gather in the fwelling Sails.
What wou'd the Wife Mens Cenfure be,
I wonder, fhould they hear me fay
I was refolv'd to throw my Books away;
How wou'd fome fcorn, and others pity me!
Sure he's in Love, 'tis for fome Charming Eve
That he like Adam Paradife does leave.
This only difference would be
Between my great Grandfire, and me,
That I my Paradife forego
For want of Appetite to know.
'Tis not that Knowledge I defpife;
No, you mifconftrue my Defign;
Or that t' Enthufiafm I incline,
And hope by Inspiration to be Wise.
'Tis not for this I bid my Books adieu,
No, I love Learning full as well as you,
And have the Arts great Circle run
With as much Vigour as the Sun
His Zodiac treads, till t'other Day
A thought furpris'd me in my way.
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