pastoral. And since the instructions given for any art are to be delivered as that art is in perfection, they must of necessity be derived from those in whom it is acknowledged so to be. It is therefore from the practice of Theocritus and Virgil (the only undisputed authors of pastoral) that the critics have drawn the foregoing notions concerning it.

Theocritus excels all others in nature and simplicity. The subjects of his Idyllia are purely pastoral; but he is not so exact in his persons, having introduced reapers and fishermen as well as shepherds. He is apt to be too long in his descriptions, of which that of the cup in the first pastoral is a remarkable instance. In the manners he seems a little defective, for his swains are sometimes abusive and immodest, and perhaps too much inclining to rusticity; for instance, in his fourth and fifth Idyllia. But it is enough that all others learned their excellence from him, and that his dialect alone has a secret charm in it, which no other could ever attain.

Virgil, who copies Theocritus, refines upon his original: and in all points, where judgment is principally concerned, he is much superior to his master. Though some of his subjects are not pastoral in themselves, but only seem to be such, they have a wonderful variety in them, which the Greek was a stranger to. He exceeds him in regularity and brevity, and falls short of him in nothing but simplicity and propriety of style; the first of which perhaps was the fault of his age, and the last of his language.

Among the moderns, their success has been greatest who have most endeavoured to make these ancients their pattern. The most considerable genius appears in the famous Tasso and our Spenser. Tasso in his Aminta has as far excelled all the pastoral writers, as in his Gierusalemme he has outdone the epic poets of his country. But as his piece seems to have been the original of a new sort of poem, the pastoral comedy, in Italy, it cannot so well be considered as a copy of the ancients. Spenser's Calendar, in Mr. Dryden's opinion, is the most complete work of this kind which any nation has produced ever since the time of Virgil: not but that he may be thought imperfect in some few points. His eclogues are somewhat too long, if we compare them with the ancients. He is sometimes too allegorical, and treats of matters of religion in apastoral style as the Mantuan had done before him. He has employed the lyric measure, which is contrary to the practice of the old poets. His stanza is not still the same, nor always well chosen. last may be the reason his expression is sometimes not concise enough; for the tetrastic has obliged him to extend his sense to the length of four lines, which would have been more closely confined in the couplet.

This

In the manners, thoughts, and characters, he comes near to Theocritus himself; though, notwithstanding all the care he has taken, he is certainly inferior in his dialect: for the 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 counti phrases of Spenser were either entirely obsolete, or spoken only hy 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 conies 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 scene 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.

PASTORALS.

SPRING.

THE FIRST PASTORAL; OR, DAMON.
To Sir William Trumbull

FIRST in these fields I try the sylvan strains,
Nor blush to sport on Windsor's blissful plains
Fair Thames, flow gently from thy sacred spring,
While on thy banks Sicilian muses sing!
Let vernal airs through trembling osiers play,
And Albion's cliffs resound the rural lay.

You that, too wise for pride, too good for power
Enjoy the glory to be great no more,
And, carrying with you all the world can boast,
To all the world illustriously are lost;
O let my muse her slender reed inspire,
Till in your native shades you tune the lyre.
So when the nightingale to rest removes,
The thrush may chant to the forsaken groves,
But charm'd to silence, listens while she sings,
And all the aerial audience clap their wings.

Soon as the flocks shook off the nightly dews, Two swains, whom love kept wakeful, and the muse,

Pour'd o'er the whitening vale their fleecy care,
Fresh as the morn, and as the season fair:
The dawn now blushing on the mountain's side,
Thus Daphnis spoke, and Strephon thus replied

DAPHNIE.

Hear how the birds, on every bloomy spray, With joyous music wake the dawning day! Why sit we mute, when early linnets sing, When warbling Philomel salutes the spring? Why sit we sad, when Phosphor shines so clear And lavish Nature paints the purple year.

STREPHON.

Sing then, and Damon shall attend the strain, While yon slow oxen turn the furrow'd plain. Here the bright crocus and blue violet glow; Here western winds on breathing roses blow. I'll stake yon lamb, that near the fountain plays, And from the brink his dancing shade surveys. DAPHNIS.

And I this bowl, where wanton ivy twines, And swelling clusters bend the curling vines : Four figures rising from the work appear, The various seasons of the rolling year; And what is that which binds the radiant sky, Where twelve fair signs in beauteous order lie?

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 resound. STREPHON.

Inspire me, Phoebus, in my Delia's praise, With Waller's strains, or Granville's moving lays! A milk-white bull shall at your altar stand, That threats a fight, and spurns the rising sand. DAPHNIS.

O Love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize, And make my tongue victorious as her eyes; No lambs or sheep for victims I'll impart, Thy victim, Love, shall be the shepherd's heart.

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;
She runs, but hopes she does not run unseen :
While a kind glance at her pursuer flies.
How much at variance are ner feet and eyes!
STREPHON.

O'er golden sands let rich Pactolus flow,
And trees weep amber on the banks of Po;

Blest Thames's shores the brightest beauties yield.

Feed here my lambs, I'll seek no distant field.

DAPHNIS.

Celestial Venus haunts Idalia's groves:
Diana Cynthus, Ceres Hybla loves:

If Windsor shades delight the matchless maid,
Cynthus and Hybla yield to Windsor shade.
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, The sun's mild lustre warms the vital air; If Sylvia smile, new glories gild the shore, And vanquish'd Nature seems to charm no more. STREPHON.

In spring the fields, in autumn hills I love, At morn the plains, at noon the shady grove, But Delia always; absent from her sight, Nor plains at morn, nor groves at noon delight.

DAPHNIS.

Sylvia's like autumn ripe, yet mild as May, More bright than noon, yet fresh as early day: E'en spring displeases, when she shines not here, But, bless'd with her, 'tis spring throughout the

year.

STREPHON.

Say, Daphnia, 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 thistle 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.

SUMMER.

THE SECOND PASTORAL; OR, ALEXIS.

To Dr. Garth.

A SHEPHERD's boy (he seeks no better name; Led forth his flocks along the silver Thame,

Where dancing sun-beams on the waters play'd,
And verdant alders form'd a quivering shade.
Soft as he mourn'd, the streams forgot to flow
T'he flocks around a dumb compassion show,
The Naiads wept in every watery bower,
And Jove consented in a silent shower.
Accept, O Garth, the muse's early lays,
That adds this wreath of ivy to thy bays;
Hear what from love unpractised hearts endure,
From love, the sole disease thou canst not cure.
Ye shady beeches, and ye cooling streams,
Defence from Phoebus', not from Cupid's beams,
To you I mourn; nor to the deaf I sing,
The woods shall answer, and their echo ring.
The hills and rocks attend my doleful lay:
Why art thou prouder, and more hard than they?
The bleating sheep with my complaints agrec,
They parch'd with heat, and I inflamed by thee.
The sultry Sirius burns the thirsty plains,
While in thy heart eternal winter reigns.

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 thine 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 hea' 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
He said: "Alexis, take this pipe, the same
That taught the groves my Rosalinda's name."
But now the reed shall hang on yonder tree,
For ever silent, since despised by thee.

O! were I made by some transforming power The captive bird that sings within thy bower! Then might my voice thy listening ears employ, And I those kisses he receives enjoy.

And yet my numbers please the rural throng, Rough satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song: The nymphs forsaking every cave and spring, Their early fruit and milk-white turtles bring; Each amorous nymph prefers her gifts in vain, On you their gifts are all bestow'd again: For you the swains the fairest flowers design, And in one garland all their beauties join; Accept the wreath which you deserve alone, In whom all beauties are comprised in one.

See what delights in Sylvan scenes appear! Descending gods have found Elysium here. In woods bright Venus with Adonis stray'd, And chaste Diana haunts the forest shade. Come, lovely nymph, and bless the silent hours, When swains from shearing seek their nightly

bowers;

When weary reapers quit the sultry field,

And crown'd with corn their thanks to Ceres yield.
This harmless grove no lurking viper hides,
But in my breast the serpent Love abides.
Here bees from blossoms sip the rosy dew,
But your Alexis knows no sweets but you.
O deign to visit our forsaken seats,

The mossy fountains, and the green retreats!
Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade;
Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade;
Where'er you tread, the blushing flowers shall

rise,

And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
Oh! how I long with you to pass my days,
Invoke the muses, and resound your praise!
Your praise the birds shall chant in every grove,
And winds shall waft it to the powers above.
But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain,
The wondering forests soon should dance again,
The moving mountains hear the powerful call,
And headlong streams hang listening in their fall!
But see, the shepherds shun the noon-day heat,
The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat,
To closer shades the panting flocks remove.
Ye gods! and is there no relief for love?
But soon the sun with milder rays descends
To the cool ocean, where his journey ends :
On me Love's fiercer flames for ever prey,
By night he scorches, as he burns by day.

groan.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
To Delia's ear the tender notes convey.
As some sad turtle his lost love deplores,

And with deep murmurs fills the sounding shores;
Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I mourn,
Alike unheard, unpitied, and forlorn.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along!
For her, the feather'd quires neglect their song:
For her, the limes their pleasing shades deny:
For her, the lilies hang their heads and die."
Ye flowers that droop, forsaken by the spring,
Ye birds, that left by summer, cease to sing,
Ye trees that fade when autumn heats remove,
Say, is not absence death to those who love?

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
Cursed be the fields that cause my Delia's stay;
Fade every blossom, wither every tree,
Die every flower, and perish all, but she;
What have I said? Where'er my Delia flies,
Let spring attend, and sudden flowers arise'
Let opening roses knotted oaks adorn,
And liquid amber drop from every thorn.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along!
The birds shall cease to tune their evening song,
The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move,
And streams to murmur, ere I cease to love.
Not bubbling fountains to the thirsty swain,
Not balmy sleep to labourers faint with pain,
Not showers to larks, or sunshine to the bee,
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? Through rocks and caves the name of Delia sounds; Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds. Ye powers, what pleasing frenzy soothes my mind! Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind? She comes, my Delia comes! Now cease my lay, And cease, ye gales, to bear my sighs away!

Next Egon sang, while Windsor groves admired: Rehearse, ye muses, what yourselves inspired. Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strain! Of perjured Doris, dying I complain: Here where the mountains, lessening as they rise, Lose the low vales, and steal into the skies; While labouring oxen, spent with toil and heat, In their loose traces from the field retreat; While curling smokes from village tops are seen, And the fleet shades glide o'er the dusky green. Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay! Beneath yon poplar oft we pass'd the day: Oft on the rind I carved her amorous vows, While she with garlands hung the bending bows; The garlands fade, the vows are worn away: So dies my love, and so my hopes decay.

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strain ! Now bright Arcturus glads the teeming grain; Now golden fruits on loaded branches shine, And grateful clusters swell with floods of wine; Now blushing berries paint the yellow grove, Just gods! shall all things yield returns but love? 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 preserved my sheep? Pan came, and asked, what magic caused my smart Or what ill eyes malignant glances dart ?

What eyes but hers, alas, have power to move;
And if there magic but what dwells in love?

Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strains
I'll fly from shepherds, flocks, and flowery 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 savage tigers fed;
Thou wert from Etna's burning entrails torn,
Got by fierce whirlwinds, and in thunder born.
Resound, ye hiils, resound my mournful lay!
Farewell, ye woods; adieu, the light of day;
One leap from yonder cliff shall end my pains.
No more, ye hills, no more resound my strains;
Thus sang the shepherds till the approach of
night,

The skies yet blushing with departed light,
When falling dews with spangles deck the glade,
And the low sun had lengthen'd every shade.

WINTER.

THE FOURTH PASTORAL; OR, DAPHNE.
To the Memory of Mrs. Tempest.
LYCIDAS.

THYRSIS, the musie of that murmuring spring
Is not so mournful as the strains you sing;
Nor rivers winding through the vales below
So sweetly warble, or so smoothly flow.
Now sleeping flocks on their soft fleeces lie,
The moon, serene in glory, mounts the sky,
While silent birds forget their tuneful lays.
O sing of Daphne's fate, and Daphne's praise!

THYRSIS.

Behold the groves that shine with silver frost, Their beauty wither'd, and their verdure lost. Here shall I try the sweet Alexis' strain, That call'd the listening Dryads to the plain : Thames heard the numbers as he flow'd along, And bade his willows learn the moving song.

LYCIDAS.

So may kind rains their vital moisture yield, And swell the future harvest of the field. Begin; this charge the dying Daphne gave, And said, "Ye shepherds sing around my grave;" Sing, while beside the shaded tomb I mourn, And with fresh bays her rural shrine adorn.

THYRSIS.

Ye gentle muses, leave your crystal spring,
Let nymphs and sylvans cypress garlands bring;
Ye weeping Loves, the stream with myrtles hide,
And break your bows as when Adonis died;
And with your golden darts, now useless grown,
Inscribe a verse on this relenting stone;
"Let Nature change, let heaven and earth de-
plore;

Fair Daphne's dead, and love is now no more!"
'Tis done, and Nature's various charms decay
See gloomy clouds obscure the cheerful day:
Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear,
Their faded honours scatter'd on her bier.
See where, on earth, the flowery glories lie:
With her they flourish'd and with her they die.
Ah! what avail the beauties nature wore ;
Fair Daphne's dead, and beauty is no more!

For her the flocks refuse their verdant food;
The thirsty heifers shun the gliding flood:
The silver swans her hapless fate bemoan,
In notes more sad than when they sing their own:
In hollow caves sweet Echo silent lies,
Silent, or only to her name replies:
Her name with pleasure once she taught the shore:
Now Daphne's dead, and pleasure is no more!

No grateful dews descend from evening skies, Nor morning odours from the flowers arise; No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field, Nor fragrant herbs their native incense yield. The balmy zephyrs, silent since her death, Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath; The industrious bees neglect their golden store; Fair Daphne's dead, and sweetness is no more! No more the mounting larks, while Daphne

sings,

Shall listening 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!

Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze,
And told in sighs to all the trembling trees,
The trembling trees, in every plain and wood,
Her fate remurmur to the silver flood;
The silver flood, so lately calm, appears
Swell'd with new passion, and o'erflows with tears;
The winds, and trees, and floods, her death de
plore

Daphne our grief, our glory now no more! [high,
But see! where Daphne wondering mounts on
Above the clouds, above the starry sky!
Eternal beauties grace the shining scene,
Fields ever fresh, and groves for ever green!
There, while you rest in amaranthine bowers,
Or from those meads select unfading flowers,
Behold us Eindly, who your name implore,
Daphne, our goddess, and our grief no more!
LYCIDAS.

How all things listen, while thy muse complains! Such silence waits on Philomela's strains,

In some still evening, when the whispering 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 flowers their odours
give,

Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise, shall live!

THYRSIS.

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. Adieu, ye vales, ye mountains, streams, and groves; Adieu, ye shepherd's rural lays and loves; Adieu, my flocks; farewell, ye sylvan crew: Daphne, farewell! and all the world, adieu !

MESSIAH.

A sacred Eclogue in Imitation of Virgil's Pollio. ADVERTISEMENT.

In reading several passages of the prophet Isaiah, which foretell the coming of Christ, and the felicities attending it, I could not but obeerve a remarkable parity between many of the thoughts and those in the Pollio of Virgil. This will not seem surprising, when we reflect, that the eclogue was taken from a Sibylline prophesy on the same subject. One muy judge that Virgil did not copy it line for line: but selected such ideas as best agreed with the nature of pastoral poetry, and disposed them in that manner which served most to beautify his piece. I have endeavoured the same in this imitation of him, though without admitting any thing of my own: since it was written with this particular view, that the reader by comparing the several thoughts, might see how far he images and descriptions of the prophet are superior to those of the poet. But as I fear I have prejudiced them by my management I shall subjoin the passages of Isaiah, and those of Virgil, under the same disadvantage of a literal transla tion.

9

19

From Jesse's root behold a branch arise,
Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies:
The ethereal spirit o'er its leaves shall move,
And on its top descends the mystic dove.
Ye heavens! from high the dewy nectar pour,
And in soft silence shed the kindly shower!
The sick and weak the healing plant shall aid, 15
From storm a shelter, and from heat a shade.
All crimes shall cease, and ancient frauds shall fail;
Returning Justices lift aloft her scale;
Peace o'er the world her olive wand, extend,
And white-robed innocence from heaven descend.
Swift fly the years, and rise the expected morn!
Oh spring to light, auspicious Babe, be born!
See, Nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring,
With all the incense of the breathing spring:
See lofty Lebanon his head advance,
See nodding forests on the mountains dance:
See spicy clouds from lowly Saron rise,
And Carmel's flowery top perfume the skies!
Hark! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers;
Prepare the way! a God, a God appears!

IMITATIONS.

25

30

Te duce, si qua maneant sceleris vestigia nostri, Irrita perpetua solvent formidine terrasPacatumque reget patriis virtutibus orben. 'Now the virgin returns, now the kingdom of Saturn returns, now a new progeny is sent down from high heaven. By means of thee, whatever reliques of our crimes remain, shall be wiped away, and free the world from perpetual fears. He shall govern the earth in peace, with the virtues of his father.'

Isaiah, ch. vii, ver. 14.- Behold a Virgin shall conceive and bear a son.' Chap. ix. ver. 6. 7- Unto us a Child is born: unto us a Son is given; the Prince of Peace: of the increase of his government, and of his peace, there shall be no end: upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order and to establish it, with judgment and with justice,

for ever and ever.'

Ver. 23. See, Nature hastes, &c.] Virg. Ecl. iv. ver. 18.

At tibi prima, puer, nullo munuscula cultu,
Errantes hederas passim cum baccare tellus,
Mixtaque ridenti colocasia fundet acantho-
Ipsa tibi blandos fundent cunabula flores.

For thee, O child, shall the earth, without being tilled, produce her early offerings; winding ivy, mixed with baccar, and colocassia with smiling acanthus. Thy cradle shall pour forth pleasing flowers about thee.

Isaiah, ch. xxxv. ver. 1. The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad, and the desert shall rejoice and blossomn as the rose.' Ch. Ix. ver. 13The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir-tree, the pine-tree, and the box together, to beautify the place of thy sanctuary.'

Ver. 29. Hark! a glad voice. &c.] Virg. iv. ver. 48.

Aggredere O magnos (aderit jam tempus) hono

res,

Cara Deum soboles, magnum Jovis incrementum! Ecl. v. ver. 62.

Ipsi lætitia voces ad sidera jactant Intonsi montes, ipsæ jam carmina rupes, Ipsa sonant arbusta, Deus, Deus ille, Menalca. 'O come and receive the mighty honours: the time draws nigh, G beloved offspring of the gods! ( great increase of Jove! The uncultivated mountains send shouts of joy to the stars; the very rocks sing in verse; the very shrubs cry out, A God, a God!

Isaiah, ch. xl. ver. 3, 4- The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord! make straight in the desert a highway for our God! Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain.' Ch. xliv. ver. 23.Break forth in

33

40

50

A God, a God! the vocal hills reply;
The rocks proclaim the approaching Deity.
Lo, earth receives him from the bending skies!
Sink down, ye mountains; and ye valleys rise!.
With heads declined, ye cedars, homage pay;
Be smooth, ye rocks; ye rapid floods give way.
The Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold:
Hear him, ye deaf; and all ye blind, behold!
He from thick films shall purge the visual ray,
And on the sightless eye-ball pour the day:
"Tis he the obstructed paths of sound shall clear,
And bid new music charm the unfolding ear:
The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego,
And leap exulting, like the bounding roe.
No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear; 45
From every face he wipes off every tear.
In adamantinet chains shall death be bound,
And hell's grim tyrant feel the eternal wound.
As the good shepherd‡ tends his fleecy care,
Seeks freshest pasture, and the purest air;
Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs,
By day o'ersees them, and by night protects,
The tender lambs he raises in his arms,
Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms:
Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage, 55
The promised fathers of the future age.
No more shall nation against nation rise,
Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes,
Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er,
The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more;
But useless lances into scythes shall bend,
And the broad falchion in a plough-share end.
Then palaces shall rise; the joyful son
Shall finish what his short-lived sire begun:
Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield, 65
And the same hand that sow'd shall reap the field.
The wain in barren deserts with surprise
Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise;
And starts, amidst the thirsty wilds to hear
New falls of water murmuring in his ear.
On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes,
The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods.
Waste sandy valleyst once perplex'd with thorn,
The spiry tir and shapely box adorn:

IMITATIONS.

60

70

Molli paulatim flavescet campus arista,
Incultisque rubens pendebit sentibus uva,
Et duræ quercus sudabunt roscida mella."

The fields shall grow yellow with ripened ears, and the red grape shall hang upon the wild brambles, and the hard oak shall distil honey like dew.'

Isaiah, ch. xxxv. ver. 7.- The parched ground shall become a pool, and the thirsty land springs of water; in the habitations where dragons lay, shall be grass, and reeds and rushes.' Ch. lv. ver. 13.Instead of the thorn shall come up the fir-tree, and instead of the briar shall come up the myrtle-tree.' Ver. 77. The lambs with wolves, &c.] Virg. Ecl. iv. ver. 21.

Ipsæ lacte domum referent distenta capellæ
Ubera, nec magnos metuent armenta leones-
Occidet et serpens, et fallax herba veneni
Occidet-

The goats shall bear to the fold their udders distended with milk: nor shall the herds be afraid of the greatest lions. The serpent shall die, and the herb that conceals poison shall die.

Isaiah, ch. xi. ver. 6, &c. The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the young lion, and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. And the Eucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the den of the cockatrice.'

75

To leafless shrubs the flowery palms succeed,
And odorous myrtle to the noisome weed.
The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant
mead,

And boys in flowery bands the tiger lead.
The steer and lion at one crib shall meet,

90

And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet. 80
The smiling infant in his hand shall take
The crested basilisk and speckled snake,
Pleased, the green lustre of the scales survey,
And with their forky tongue shall innocently play.
Rise, crown'd with light,.imperial Salem; rise! 85
Exalt thy towery head, and lift thy eyes!
See a long races thy spacious courts adorn;
See future sons, and daughters yet unborn,
In crowding ranks on every side arise,
Demanding life, impatient for the skies!
See barbarous nations at thy gates attend,
Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend;
See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings,
And heap'd with products of Sabean springs!
For thee Idume's spicy forests blow,
And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow.
See heaven its sparkling portals wide display,
And break upon them in a flood of day!
No more the rising sun** shall gild the morn,
Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn;
But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays,
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze

95

100

O'erflow thy courts: the Light himself shall shine
Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine!
The seast shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away! 106
But fix'd his word, his saving power remains ;
Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns!

IMITATIONS.

Ver. 85. Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise!] The thoughts of Isaiah, which compose the latter part of the poem, are wonderfully elevated, and much above those general exclamations of Virgil, which make the loftiest parts of his Pollio.

Magnus ab integro sæclorum nascitur ordo! -toto surget gens aurea mundo!

-Incipient magni procedere menses!

Aspice, venturo lætentur ut omnia sæclo! &c. The reader needs only to turn to the passages of Isaiah, here cited.

THY forest, Windsor and thy green retreats,
At once the Monarch's and the Muses' seats,
Invite my lays. Be present, sylvan maids!
Unlock your springs, and open all your shades.
Granville commands; your aid, O muses, bring!
What muse for Granville can refuse to sing?

The groves of Eden, vanish'd now so long,
Live in description, and look green in song;
These, were my breast inspired with equal flame,
Like them in beauty, should be like in fame.
Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain,
Here earth and water seem to strive again;
Not chaos-like together crush'd and bruised,
But as the world, harmonious'y confused;
Where order in variety we see,

Here waving groves a chequer'd scene display
And where, though all things differ, all agree.
And part admit, and part exclude the day;
As some coy nymph her lover's warm address,
Nor quite indulges, nor can quite repress.

Ch. xi. ver, 6, 7, 8. + Ch. Ixv. ver. 25.
Ch. lx. ver. 1.
Ch. 1x ver. 4.
Ch. Ix. ver. 3.
Ch. lx. ver. 6.
Ch. Ix. ver. 19. 20.

tt Ch. li. ver. 6, and ch. liv. ver. 10.