Doric had its beauty and propriety in the time of Theocritus; it was used in part of Greece, and frequent in the mouths of many of the greatest persons: whereas the old English and country phrases of Spenser were either entirely obsolete, or spoken only by people of the lowest condition. As there is a difference betwixt simplicity and rusticity, so the expression of simple thoughts should be plain, but not clownish. The addition he has made of a Calendar to his eclogues is very beautiful; since by this, besides the general moral of innocence and simplicity which is common to other authors of pastoral, he has one peculiar to himself: he compares human life to the several seasons, and at once exposes to his readers a view of the great and little worlds, in their various changes and aspects. Yet the scrupulous division of his pastorals into months has obliged him either to repeat the same description, in other words, for three months together; or, when it was exhausted before, entirely to omit it: whence it comes to pass that some of his eclogues (as the sixth, eighth, and tenth, for example) have nothing but their titles to distinguish them. The reason is evident, because the year has not that variety in it to furnish every month with a particular description, as it may every season. Of the following eclogues I shall only say, that these four comprehend all the subjects which the critics upon Theocritus and Virgil will allow to be fit for pastoral; that they have as much variety of description, in respect of the several seasons, as Spenser's; that in order to add to this variety, the several times of the day are observed, the rural employments in each season or time of day, and the rural scenes or places proper to such employments; not without some regard to the several ages of man, and the different passions proper to each age. But after all, if they have any merit, it is to be attributed to some good old authors, whose works as I had leisure to study, so I hope I have not wanted care to imitate. SPRING: THE FIRST PASTORAL, OR Damon. TO SIR WILLIAM TRUMBULL.* FIRST in these fields I try the silvan strains, You, that too wise for pride, too good for power, And, carrying with you all the world can boast, Soon as the flocks shook off the nightly dews, DAPHNIS. Hear how the birds, on every blooming spray, STREPHON. Sing then, and Damon shall attend the strain, *He was born in Windsor forest. The planet Venus. DAPHNIS. And I this bowl, where wanton ivy twines, And what is that, which binds the radiant sky, DAMON. Then sing by turns, by turns the Muses sing; Now hawthorns blossom, now the daisies spring, Now leaves the trees, and flowers adorn the ground; Begin, the vales shall every note rebound. STREPHON. Inspire me, Phoebus, in my Delia's praise, DAPHNIS. O love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize, STREPHON. Me gentle Delia beckons from the plain, Then hid in shades, eludes her eager swain; But feigns a laugh, to see me search around, And by that laugh the willing fair is found. DAPHNIS. The sprightly Sylvia trips along the green, STREPHON. O'er golden sands let rich Pactolus flow, And trees weep amber on the banks of Po; The Thames' bright shores the brightest beauties yield, Feed here my lambs, I'll seek no distant field. DAPHNIS. Celestial Venus haunts Idalia's groves; If Windsor-shades delight the matchless maid, STREPHON. All nature mourns, the skies relent in showers, Hush'd are the birds, and closed the drooping flowers; If Delia smile, the flowers begin to spring, The skies to brighten, and the birds to sing. DAPHNIS. All nature laughs, the groves are fresh and fair, STREPHON. In spring the fields, in autumn hills I love, DAPHNIS. Sylvia's like autumn ripe, yet mild as May, STREPHON. Say, Daphnis, say, in what glad soil appears, A wondrous tree* that sacred monarchs bears; Tell me but this, and I'll disclaim the prize, And give the conquest to thy Sylvia's eyes. DAPHNIS. Nay, tell me first, in what more happy fields The thistlet springs, to which the lily yields: And then a nobler prize I will resign; For Sylvia, charming Sylvia, shall be thine. DAMON. Cease to contend, for, Daphnis, I decree, The bowl to Strephon, and the lamb to thee: Blest swains, whose nymphs in every grace excel; Blest nymphs, whose swains those graces sing so well! Now rise, and haste to yonder woodbine bowers, A soft retreat from sudden vernal showers; The turf with rural dainties shall be crown'd, While opening blooms diffuse their sweets around. For see the gathering flocks to shelter tend, And from the Pleiads fruitful showers descend. * Royal Oak. † Of Scotland. Of France. SUMMER: THE SECOND PASTORAL, OR Alexis. TO DR GARTH, 66 AUTHOR OF THE DISPENSARY." A SHEPHERD's boy (he seeks no better name) Accept, O GARTH! the Muse's early lays, Where stray ye, Muses, in what lawn or grove, While your Alexis pines in hopeless love? In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides, Or else where Cam his winding vales divides? As in the crystal spring I view my face, Fresh-rising blushes paint the watery glass; But since those graces please thy eyes no more, I shun the fountains which I sought before. Once I was skill'd in every herb that grew, And every plant that drinks the morning dew; Ah, wretched shepherd, what avails thy art, To cure thy lambs, but not to heal thy heart! Let other swains attend the rural care, Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces shear: But nigh 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 Inspired when living, and bequeathed in death: |