305 Sure once again Eliza glads the ifle, That the kind Mufes thus propitious fmileWhy gaze you thus? Why all this wonder, fwains? 'Tis Pope that fings, and Carolina reigns. But hold, my Mufe! whofe aukward verfe Thy want of fkill, nor fhows the Poet's praife; ΤΟ Mr. POPE, ON THE PUBLISHING HIS WORKS. HE While through the earth thy dear remembrance "Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies." TO MR. POPE, BY MR. HARTE.` To write move the fprings of nature as we please; E comes, he comes! bid every Bard pre- The fong of triumph, and attend his Car. Thus young Alcides, by old Chiron taught, 5 10 But hark! what fouts, what gathering crowds Unftain'd their praife by any venal voice, 20 But what are they that turn the facred page? Three lovely Virgins, and of equal age; latent they read, and all enamour'd seem, As he that met his likenefs in the stream: The GRACES thefe; and fee how they contend, Who moft fhall praile, who beft fhall recom mend. 26 The Chariot now the painful fteep afcends, What laurel'd Arch for thy triumphant Mufe? fhrine, Though every Laurel through the dome be thine, Vel. VI. 55 With living words to warm the conscious heart, trace The powers of language, harmony, and grace; T' infpire mankind, itfelf deriv'd from heaven. I cannot rival-and yet dare to praife. So feems fome picture where exa&t defgn, How bleft the man that from the world re- To joys that Mordaunt *, or his Pope, approves; *Earl of Peterborough, conquerer of Valencia, D ૨૧ Nor deem this verfe, though humble, a dif- O let my Mufe her flender reed inspire, grace: All are not born the glory of their race : THE Hear how the birds, on every bloomy spray, With joyous mufic wake the dawning day! Why it we mute, when early linnets fing, When warbling Philomel falutes the spring? 25 TRIUMVIRATE OF POETS. Why fit we fad, when Phofphor fhines fo clear, And lavish Nature paints the purple year? SUMMER. THE SECOND PASTORAL. OR ALEXIS. TO DR. GARTH. A Shepherd's Boy (he feeks no better name) 15 25 35 Where ftray ye, Mufes, in what lawn or grove, While your Alexis pines in hopeless love? In thofe fair fields where facred Ins glides, Or elfe where Cam his winding vales divides? As in the cryftal fpring I view my face, Fresh rifing blufhes paint the watery glass ; But fince thofe graces pleafé thy eyes no more, I fhun the fountains which I fought before. 30 Once I was fill'd in every herb that grew, And every plant that drinks the morning dew; Ah, wretched fhepherd, what avails thy art, To cure thy lambs, but not to heal thy heart! Let other fwains attend the rural care, Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces sheer: But high yon' mountain let me tune my lays, Embrace my Love, and bind my brows with bays. That flute is mine which Colin's tuneful breath Infpir'd when living, and bequeath'd in death: He faid; Alexis, t ke this pipe, the fame That taught the groves my Rofalinda's name: But now the reeds fhall hang on yonder tree, For ever filent, fince defpis'd by thee. O! were I made by fome transforming power 45 The captive bird that fngs within thy bower! Then might my voice thy liftening cars employ, And I thofe kiffes he receives enjoy. 41 And yet my numbers please the rural throng, Rough Satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the fong: The Nymphs, forfaking every cave and fpring, Their early fruit and milk-white turtles bring! This harmless grove no lurking viper hides, 75 And all things flourish where you turn your eyes, AUTUMN, MN, THE THIRD PASTORAL, OR HYLAS AND GON. TO MR. WYCHERLY. 90 When tuneful Hylas, with melodious moan, Taught rocks to weep, and made the mountain groan. Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! To Delia's ear the tender notes convey. As fome fad Turtle his loft love deplores, And with deep murmurs fills the founding fhores; Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I mourn. Alike unheard, unpity'd, and forlorn. 20 Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along! For her, the feather'd quires neglect their fong: For her the limes their pleafing fades deny; 2; For her the lillies hang their heads and die. Ye flowers that droop, forfaken by the spring, Ye birds that, left by fummer, ceafe to ing, Ye trees that fade when autumn heats remove, Say, is not abfence death to thofe who love? sa Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! Curs'd be the fields that caufe my Delia's ftay; Fade every bloffom, wither every tree, Die every flower, and perifh all but the. What have I faid? Where'er my Delia flies, 35 Let fpring attend, and fudden flowers arife! Let opening rofes knotted oaks adorn, And liquid amber drop from every thorn. Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along! The birds fhall ceafe to tune their evening fong, The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move, And ftreams to murmur, ere I ceafe to love. Not bubbling fountains to the thirty fwain, Not balmy fleep to labourers faint with pain, Not fhowers to larks, or fun-thine to the bee, Are half fo charming as thy fight to me. 41 45 Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away! Come, Delia, come; ah, why this long delay? Through rocks and caves the name of Delia found Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds. 5 Ye powers, what pleafing frenzy fooths my mind! Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind? She comes, my Delia comes!-Now ceafe my lay, And ceafe, ye gales, to bear my 1ghs away! Next Egon fung, while Windfor groves admir'd; 55 Relearfe, ye Mufes, what yourfelves infpir'd ENEATH the fhade a spreading beech dif- Of perjur'd Doris, dying I complain; BE plays, Hylas and Agon fung their rural lays : This mourn'd a faithlefs, that an absent love; And Delia's Lame and Doris' fill'd the grove. Here, where the mountains, leffening as they rife, Lofe the low vales, and fteal into the skies; While labouring oxen, fpent with toil and heat, In their loofe traces from the field retreat; While curling fmoaks from village tops are feen, 66 80 While the with garlands hung the bending boughs: HYRSIS, the mufic of that murmuring fpring Is not fo mournful as the ftrains you fing; Nor rivers winding through the vales below, So fweetly warble, or fo fmoothly flow. Now fleeping flocks on their foft fleeces lie, The moon, ferene in glory mounts the fky, While filent birds forget their tuneful lays, Ofing of Daphne's fate, and Daphne's praife! THYRSIS. Ye gentle Mufes, leave your cryftal spring, Let Nymphs and Sylvans cyprefs garlands bring; Ye weeping Loves, the ftream with myrtles hide, And break your bows as when Adonis dy'd; And with your golden darts, now useless grown, Infcribe a verfe on this relenting stone : 26 "Let nature change, let heaven and earth de"plore, "Fair Daphne's dead, and Love is now no more!" For her the flocks refuse their verdant food, Now Daphne's dead, and pleafure is no more! No grateful dews defcend from evening skies, Nor morning odours from the flowers arife; 46 No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field, Nor fragrant herbs their native incenfe yield. The balmy Zephyrs, filent fince her death, Lament the ceafing of a fweeter breath; Th' induftrious bees neglect their golden ftore; Fair Daphne's dead, and Sweetnefs is no more! No more the mounting larks, while Daphne fings, 50 55 Shall, liftening in mid air, fufpend their wings; No more the birds fhall imitate her lays, Or, huth'd with wonder, hearken from the fprays: No more the ftreams their murmurs fhall forbear, A fweeter mufc than their own to hear; But tell the reeds, and tell the vocal fhore, Fair Daphne's dead, and Mufic is no more! 60 Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze, And told in fighs to all the trembling trees; The trembling trees, in every plain and wood, 5 Her fate remurmur to the ilver flood: The flyer flood, fo lately calm, appears Swell'd with new paflion, and o'erflows with Behold the groves that fhine with filver froft, Their beauty wither'd, and their verdure loft. 10 Here fhall I try the fweet Alexis' ftrain, That call'd the liftening Dryads to the plain? tears; 65 |