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(2o; gentle gales, and bear my sighs along! The birds shall cease to tune their ev'ning song, 46 The winds to breathe, the Waving woods to move, And streams to murmur, e'er I cease to love* Not bubling fountains to the thirsty swain. Not balmy sleep to lab'rers faint with pain, Not fhow'rs to larks, or sun-mine to the bee* 4$ Are half so charming as thy sight to me.
•Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away! Come, Delia, come; ah, why this long delay? Thro' rocks and caves the name of Delia founds, Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds, $0 Ye pow'rs, what pleasing frenzy sooths my mind! Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind? She comes, my Delia comes!—*Nowcease my lay, And cease, ye gales, to bear my sighs away!
Ver. 48. Originally thus in the MS.
With him thro' Libya's burning plains I'll go,
Ver. 37. Aurea duræ
Mala ferarit quercus; *narcisso floreat alnus*
Ver. 43. etc.]
Quale sopor feffis in gramine, quale per æstum
Dulcis aquae saliente sitim restinguere rivo. Ed. v. P.
Vsr. 52. An quiamant,ipsi fibi somniafingunt? Jd.\'ia. P.
Next Ægon sung, while Windsor groves admir'd; Rehearse, ye Muses, what yourselves inspir'd.
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strain! Of perjur'd Doris, dying I complain: Here where the mountains, less'ning as they rise, Lose the low vales, and steal into the skies; 6 o While lab'ring oxen, spent with toil and heat, In their loose traces from the field retreat: While curling smoaks from village-tops are seen, And the fleet shades glide o'er the dusky green.
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay! 65 Beneath yon' poplar oft we past the day: Oft' on the rind I carv'd her am'rous vows, While she with garlands hung the bending boughs: The garlands fade, the vows are worn away •, So dies her love, and so my hopes decay. 70
Resound, ye hills* resound my mournful strain! Now bright Arcturus glads the teeming grain, Now golden fruits on loaded branches mine, And grateful clusters swell with floods of wine; Now blushing berries paint the yellow grove; 75 Just Gods! shall all things yield returns but love?
Ver,74. Andgratefulclusters, etc.] The scene is in Windsor-forest; so this image not so exact.
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay! The shepherds cry, "Thy flocks are left a prey— Ah! what avails it me, the flocks to keep, Who lost my heart while I prescrv'd ray sheep. 80 Pan came, and afk'd, what magic caus'd my smart, Or what ill eyes: malignant glances dar.t? What eyes but hers, alas, have pow'r to move! "And is there magic but what dwells in love! 84 Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strains'I'll fly from shepherds, flocks, and flow'ry plains. From shepherds, flocks, and plains, I may remove, Forsake mankind, and all the world-—but love! I know thee, Love! on foreign mountains bred, Wolves gave thee suck, and fevage tigers fed. 91 Thou wert from Ætna's burning entrails torn, Got by fierce whirlwinds, and in thunder born! Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay !, Farewell, ye woods, adieu the light of day! One leap from yonder cliff shall end my pains, o£ No more, ye hills, no more resound my strains!
Yeh- 82. Or what ill eyes]
Nescio quis teneros oculus mihi fasdnat agrx», P. YERr89.NuncscioqijidsitAmor:durisincotibusillum,etc.P.
Thus fung the shepherds till th'approach, of night, The skies yet blushing with, departing light, When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade. And the low fun had lengthened ev'ry shade, Ioq
Ver. 98. Too.] There is a little inaccuracy here; the first line makes the time aster fun-set; the second, before.
THE FOURTH PASTOR AL,
D A P H N E.
To the Memory os Mrs. Tempest.
Th y R s j s, the music of thatmurm'ring spring
Winter.] This was the Poet's favourite Pastoral,