r 
 
 PR 
 
 4639 
 
 D98p
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 PASTORAL 
 
 POEMS, 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM DYASON, 
 
 pniXTED FOK THE Al'JTIIOU, 
 
 AND PUBLISHED BY 
 
 M.Jones, Paternoster-Rou;. 
 
 1804".
 
 rrmle.l by J. H. Hart, 
 '23, Waiwick-Siiuavc.
 
 
 %JtiJ OO '.is
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I.ycidas and Corydon o 
 
 Danccta and Mcnaka iG 
 
 Van and Apollo^ or the Recovery 28 
 
 Dione, Mclibce, and T/iyrse, or the Apolugv, 41 
 
 Tityro and Phillis 86 
 
 Maoris and Pol/io, or the Occurrence .... 93 
 Mopsy, Damon, Thyrse, Alphcsibee, and Eliza, 
 
 or the Contention 99 
 
 The Anchorite and Vitula, or Mirth and 
 
 Solitude 107
 
 LYCIDAS AND CORYDON. 
 
 CoRYDON alone, lamenting the Loss of Amynta, 
 his Lovert 
 
 JijlOW hard my fate to "be a shepherd born ! 
 How hard, ye gods, to wander thus forlorn ! 
 Yet I'll repeat, and despair shall echo 
 To groves, and swains, and nymphs, my tales of 
 
 woe. ' '^ . 
 
 Ye Dictaean maids, Amynta I lament ; 
 Ye nymphs Hesperian, whither is she sent ? 
 Thou morn effulgent, why unbind thy folds ? 
 In vain proud Sol o'er Polyanthus rolls; 
 In vairi, thou moon, and twilight vespers hue ; 
 Oh, fly thou sun, ye lunar shades adieu ! 
 Yet, chief, O night ! I woo thy sable sheen. 
 And dewy beds, where I can weep unseen. 
 
 B How
 
 2 LYCIDAS AND CORYOON. 
 
 How vain to me Nature's effluvia flows ! 
 
 Her wild effusion can't abate my woes. 
 
 Then I, Aristaeus, will keep the sliades with thee ; 
 
 Amynta I, for Eurydice, you be. 
 
 Oh, tell ! thou Delius, thou know'st Pernassus' 
 
 height, 
 Tell where's Amynta fluttering her flight ? 
 1, being unacquainted with her sleep ; 
 Nor Cytheron, Dictynna, know the deep. 
 Apollo, tell if she the heights ascend ; 
 Or if to Erebus I my course should bend. 
 Say, if there's my love, but tell me, shall I meet ; 
 Say, if in Heaven, or dreaming in the deep. 
 Oh, deeper woes on woes do yet abound ! 
 Perchance, no traces are there to be found ; 
 And I, a shepherd, humble, meek, and low. 
 Must tarry here, where'er Amynta go I 
 Nor Linus* ode, or Orphean power to chime ; 
 I can't, like Arlon, build the lofty rhyme. 
 Groves, forests, vile, lie dreaming with thy 
 
 fame; 
 Arcadia, Palilia, do the same. 
 And Damon swains near all forget their pipes ; 
 Their flocks are lost, yet Lycid' gay, delights. 
 Why, thou Lycidian train, remain so gay. 
 And idly vain, on tiptoes' borrow'd day ; 
 
 Ye,
 
 LYCIDAS AND C&RYDO^K. 
 
 'Ycj^hus cnchartted on your laurell'd baftks, 
 3)eign from your heights, and take my humble 
 
 thanks ; 
 Nor be ambitious o'er thy brother swain ; 
 Or jocund longer, chaunting airs amain. 
 Deign, ye sequester'd nymphs, a little time. 
 Ye shepherd 3'oaths, attend my humble rhyme.; 
 And satyrs cease to teize the sylvan shades, 
 -Or haunts unholy, fright'ning nectar'd glades. 
 Now let me echo through the lofty skies, 
 Resounding azure, tell who claims my sighs : 
 Tell, at Amynta's grove I raise my tomb, 
 Oppressed deep, and low as Lybia's gloom. 
 As sadest Negro 'twixt European claw ; 
 But Pollio, silent servitude my law : 
 Nor chid me not, ye mighty gods above. 
 That all my life I mourn Amynta's love ; 
 Nor ye, w^ho are companions to my S(Mig, 
 Do not lament that I detain ye long. 
 I lead ye o'er no toilsome climes with me, 
 But give at home my heart's sad history. 
 If in this lay unlawful I appear. 
 Remember, nought but wretchedness I wear, 
 A youth unskill'd in figures of his art, 
 A youth, who feels now what he wntes in part. 
 8 Then,
 
 f LYCIDAS AND CORYDON. 
 
 Then, if in other climes, or Britain's vale ; 
 What matters where, when nature's worn so pale. 
 Then let me Oh ! attend ! nor leave me so ; 
 O let me weep ! return, and tell my woe. 
 Why, Phoebus, yet thy daily visit pay ? 
 Whose solar beams raise no responsive lay ; 
 Or, I've no more the sense of mortal cheers, 
 Where white flocks feed, or red rose-bud appears. 
 AfFected hues of Cypress I imbibe. 
 And deep communion to redeem my bride : 
 Nor I no more hold dance in vocal airs. 
 Where Thyrsis and Menalcas take their pairs^ 
 Propitious Muse ! I now loose all thy dawn. 
 And Orpheus, who cheer'd the balmy lawn ; 
 Or more with Pallas break the rocid green ; 
 A sacrifice is all I now would seem ; 
 Therefore, approach, to raise the wretched prize. 
 Ye who are fam'd so gloriously to rise ! 
 In awful tones, the trembling shades here heap ; 
 But, first my frame in holy incense steep ; 
 Extracted from ambrosia's gummy gems. 
 And drain their incense, and consume their stems. 
 Come, now, take your farewell of Corydon ; 
 For he forsakes CEolia's grove alone j 
 And leaves ye all to raise in higher strains. 
 Ye celebrating great Mellisa's plains. 
 
 Aspiring
 
 T VCIDAS AND CORYDOK. 5 
 
 Aspiring poplars, myrtles' balmy hue ; 
 Ye that on altars lambkins oft imbrue ; 
 Ye gath'ring fruits, to lofty airs unborn. 
 When Hesper bids, ye fold your flocks, adorn ; 
 Adorn my gloom ! yet listen swains to me. 
 That thus bestows these solemn charms too free. 
 If garlands dight an anxious shepherd's shrine, 
 With joyous hearts, and suppliant hands combine. 
 Ah! ah! but, how! how! unavailing paid, 
 Veil'd still in shadowy glooms let me be laid. 
 No more, ye Fates, then unpropitious share ; 
 For I'll auspicious follow my lost fair. 
 Hence worldly joys, to me but grievous toils ! 
 Exuberant in weakness, deep in broils. 
 Amynta, I, Amynta, I lament ! 
 Deploring I ! Amynta I lament I 
 O goddess ! there must be with thee conceal'd. 
 Some hapless place, or golden flocks o'crveil'd. 
 Vermilion cheeks, or dismal glooms o'ersprcad. 
 Gay purple vest, or filthy dust thy bed ; 
 Joyous pipes, or dark tremendous cries ! 
 And murmurs serving to confute our eyes. 
 Distract our thoughts, and fluctuate our breasts. 
 Ah, Phoebus ! daily doubt I where she rests ; 
 'Tis mine, poor Coryd, Coryd's to deplore ! 
 Despair is mine ! Amynta is no more ! 
 
 B i Wa
 
 '6 tYCnSAS A,ND CORYDON. 
 
 Was ever swain or shepherdess like me ? 
 A wretched youth, and wretched still to be. 
 Why, Orion, toss me in unseason'd storms. 
 Midst furious flocks, and alienating charms ! 
 Nor free from cottage mirth, and humble plains ; 
 Nor free from haunts of shepherds, and the swains ;. 
 Nor mine to sing, but sadness to revolve ; 
 To fly the meadows, and to cease to rove : 
 Yet, Oh, imagination ! yet would boast ; 
 And yet to tell Amynta is not lost. 
 Selected in Parnassus' heights, I see 
 Gay Pallas' nymphs, sedately moving thee ; 
 More beauteous than Cynthia serene. 
 Revolving mutual tresses round the beam ; 
 Yet now I loose the hope of all my flock ; 
 O stay thou phantom ! stay Amynta, look ! 
 Approach, fond maid ! nor longer let me mourn, 
 Februa's depths I ye heights of Jove return ! 
 Let Coryd view what pillars bears him up, 
 What swains in other Bulls and Aries sup ; 
 What Tl tyro's,, and Amarrilla's hie j 
 What Corydons for new Alexis sigh : 
 Or 9^, ye gods, shall Coryd be no more, 
 W^hen he doth cease Amynta to deplore ; 
 Or sltall I make Numidia my home. 
 With lions on the Lybian coast to raain. 
 
 Oh t
 
 LYCIDAS AKD CORYDOU. / 
 
 Oh ! I'm dejected ! Fall, Fortuna, fall ! 
 My lays no more the nymphs pastoral call. 
 Ye cares, are ye entwin'd, ne'er to disband. 
 But make a chaos of Pastora's land ? 
 Unhappy I, ye herds I no more know ; 
 No more for ye shall deep attention flow. 
 List ! nor be mine adulation's theme : 
 Jove, ruler of the hearts and minds of men ; 
 Nor Fessonia mine ; she, cruel gods, afar ! 
 Then humbly I, nor mount with Phoebus* car. 
 Ye melancholy groves to me alone. 
 And downy banks, returning to my moan j 
 Nor more Euphrosyne, or Eroto raise : 
 Cease, rural Florios, wreathed smile to praise. 
 Tis mine, ye Gods immortal, to deplore ; 
 Tis mine, ye nymphs, to weep my love no more ! 
 
 t 
 But, lo ! what swain doth this way now ap- 
 proach ? 
 Help me, ye Nine ! ye gods prerent reproach. 
 Ah ! ah ! 'tis Lycidas ! sweet beauty's piime ; 
 Tis he alone ! but he cannot be mine. 
 Thus ended Corydon, and sit him down : 
 Oh, sad to tell, when every joy is flown I 
 And Lycidas came gayly up, as mirth. 
 Unknowing love's oppression from his birth ; 
 
 B 4 Smiling:
 
 8 tYCIDAS AND CORYDON. 
 
 Smiling said. Come, boy, come Ccrydon, the lutt 
 Awaits thy hand, why linger sad and mute ? 
 When Corydon : Ah, Lycidas ! how vain 
 Thy efforts being to abate my pain ! 
 I once was gay, and laugh'd at love like mine ; 
 I onee was gay, and laugh'd at humble rhyme. 
 Now fail my lambs, Tityro, and my sheep ; 
 And now, alas, I turn from them to weep. 
 Oh, dearest swain ! let not thy sacred hand 
 Corrupted be with trimble, or with wand. 
 With Hyacinth, or cowslips, twin'd about. 
 With daisies, nor blue voilets thy rout ; 
 Musk, roses, fragrant myrtles, cease to wear, 
 O, Lycidas ! and from thy bosom tear. 
 But, if thou can'st, say if condolement's thine. 
 Or is't thy mutual fate to share with mine : 
 O say ! O say ! thou Lycidas, declare. 
 Tell, if thou didst behold the TEther bear ; 
 Tell me, O swain ! a nymph, Amynta like, 
 And I'll consign to you the woes that strike. 
 And join thy echoes in the woody ray ; 
 To me impart, I trembling will obey. 
 Can we, responsive, trace her mansion out, 
 Malevolent Fates, retreating thus about. 
 As I've heard say, some spirits fly at night ; 
 And yet I doubt Amynta's dusky light ! 
 
 Still,
 
 LYCIDAS AND CORYDON. 9 
 
 Still, man's not form'd for. his own Maker's hate; 
 Nor mine to doubt, yet 1 must doubt her fate : 
 O teach me ! O Philosophy, come on ! 
 The gods are just, or men always undone. 
 Here ended Corydon, wrapt deep in thought. 
 Adieu, O Lycidas ! availing nought. 
 Bat Lycidas, determin'd not to leave 
 The j^outh he lov'd, of ev'ry joy bereav'd ; 
 Which instigation causeth him to speak : " 
 And cease, said he, O intellectuals, weak I 
 Nor ever wont to be as now thou art, 
 Then let me sympathize, and take a part. 
 Say, what removal now hath taken place ? 
 What caus'd renouncement in the shepherd's 
 
 chace ? 
 Jove, and ye Nine ; Pan, ye immortals, hear ; 
 AppoUo, Phoebus, whom the swains revere ; 
 And, O my Coryd ! you my only trust, 
 Remember, Gods for ever act but just ! 
 Thus impressive, and sincere at heart. 
 Spoke Lycidas ; and Corj'don renew'd his smart. 
 No more I know impearl'd Melia's dews ; 
 And I, alas ! Aristaean pipes refuse ; 
 Nor I with vesper loll : or Venus taunt, vou see. 
 Shake rocid boughs, or wake the morn with thee : 
 
 No,
 
 10 LYCIDAS AND CORYDON. 
 
 'No, nor exult more at Aurora's breath. 
 Refulgent verdures, odours, meads, or heath. 
 Here ended Corydon still slow, and sad. 
 While Lycidas aggrieved, saw the lad : 
 Thy lays are not Pastora's charms, O swain I 
 But unresponsive and obdurate pain : 
 Nor with Melissa sip the dewy tide ; 
 Cease these thy woes torpescent to imbibe ; 
 Crown rising Phoebus, and applaud my song, 
 Contending lays now cease with Corydon. 
 Libethrian nymphs come soft, and gently sing ; 
 Come, cheer his shades, the reed uneven bring ; 
 Narcissus fawn, and Corydon come gaie ; 
 Thou swain, admire once more those piping ways 
 Invoke the groves ! and Marvel Eglabine, 
 Aiid they will on thee lusciously recline. 
 Abundant will let flow their musky lymphs : 
 Melia chaunt, Lemoniades, and nymphs ! 
 Like AmphloD, all softly gliding on, 
 Come and give Pan his niuch lov'd Corydon. 
 Here ended Lycidas, when Corydon, 
 Ah ! ah ! thou feel'st nor giving me the more, 
 Amynta all ! Amynta I deplore ; 
 Nor more said he when Lycid' thus began, 
 O sweetest youth ! O once admir'd man ; 
 
 What ! 
 
 }
 
 LYCIDAS AND CORYDON. 11 
 
 What ! leave amort Euboean strains, and mute, 
 Unmelodious, fair CElia's lute ? 
 Ionia's swains, too, cease to drive their droves, 
 Flocks heinous deem'd ; avert it, O ye gods ! 
 Thou Astral lamp, Arcadia's chief delight, 
 Thou humble swain, assuasive day and night. 
 Hence wretched woe impulsive ! stir thy heart. 
 Nor let Sylvanus longer feel the smart. 
 But Coryd' here did interrupt the youth, 
 O Lycidas ! averse to love and truth, 
 Thy voice no more in raillery repeat, 
 Thy heart, nor thee, no more I gayly meet. 
 The death of fair Amynta I deplore, 
 As Venus did Adonis, when no more. 
 Thus Corydon ; when Licidas. No more ! ! 
 Come, take exhalement of the morning air. 
 Renew thy aook, abandon deep despair ; 
 Illiterate obtusion begone, 
 And Phoebus will iliuminate thy moan. 
 Then as Tityro we our God will praise. 
 Imbrue our lambkins, and our incense raise. 
 Here ended Lycidas, when Corydon 
 My songs no more with Lycidas I trow, 
 Pan, nor the reed, Sicilian muses know. 
 The dewy plains, Apollo, and the Nine, 
 Menalc', Demaetus, and Palemon, thine ! 
 
 Nor
 
 12 LYCIDAS AND CORYDON. 
 
 Nor knows Tityro, poor Tityro dear. 
 
 How hard and inauspicious I fare. 
 
 Go Lycidas, and cheer my sister's woe ; 
 
 Go tell Tityro, all of me you know. 
 
 But first thy hand, O Lycidas, then part, 
 
 Hesperus rising, fain would sooth my heart. 
 
 Here sad, and gloomy ended he, 
 
 When Lycidas began. Unhappy me ! 
 
 Fail harmony ! fail pipe, and jocund reed ! 
 
 Nor rural cheer shall haunt Sylvanus' mead. 
 
 Quit ! quit ! O Arethuse ! thy impious shore ; 
 Nor deviating Alpheus, know the moor! 
 Effulgent morn, expand no golden wings, 
 
 Shepherds their pipes, I've lost my lyric strains. 
 
 He, who surmounted once great Phoebus' car. 
 
 Sleeps now nocturnal, nor re-echo's far. 
 
 Return obnoxious, ye verdant hues ; 
 
 For, in this youth a Nomius we loose ! 
 
 Yet must, yet will, Pomona's berries sway ; 
 
 Yet vain, and unsagacious, fall away ! 
 
 When, when, sweet youth, wilt thou cease to de- 
 plore ; 
 
 When cease to weep, Amynta is no more. 
 
 Sigh, Acldalus ! Lycidas is poor ; 
 
 Ye fountain Limnadcs, droop your heads demure ; 
 
 And
 
 LYCIDAS AND CORYDON. 13 
 
 And cease, thou Pan, to lead the valley jaunt. 
 Ye gods support, nor trembling nature vaunt. 
 Thus, deep affected, ended he, now low, and sad ; 
 His countenance bespoke the feeling lad ; 
 Mute silence kept in stedfast time the place. 
 When Corydon bid him hie to the chace. 
 
 swain, behold sweet rising vesper come ! 
 Nor would I thus detain thee from thy home. 
 With Horus go, with golden Phcebus fly, 
 Th' Hesperides, whose pleasing sire I vie. 
 
 1 wish thee well, be bounteous, O Jove ! 
 Bless Lycidas, O all ye gods of love ! 
 
 Here left he speaking, and here still appear'd 
 Anxious for Lycidas to go rever'd ; 
 But Lycidas, approaching slow and sad. 
 Did thus accost in gentle words the lad : 
 W'hen wilt thou cease ? ah ! when cease to de- 
 plore. 
 And praise those gods whom once you did adore ; 
 Nor said he more ; for, positive the lad, 
 And anxious he uprose, with sorrow clad. 
 When Phoebus turns to bays! Venus grows mild ! 
 Mercury fond ! Diana, Venus' child ! 
 Tnen, then, Araynta, cease I to lament! 
 
 When nutriment for nutriment is sent. 
 
 Here
 
 14 LYCIDAS AND CORTDOX. 
 
 Here ended he, down sitting on the bank. 
 Negligently resting on the dank. 
 Bid adieu to Lycidas once more, 
 Who musing sit beside him to deplore. 
 For thee I feel, O Corydon ! he said ; 
 But all I feel or say for thee is dead : 
 This to Menalca, Mopsy, Phil, I'll tell, 
 Demoeta, Melibel, what woes befell ! 
 TJnhappy flocks I unhappy swains ! now weep. 
 Appropriated Lycidas to meet. 
 Here ended he, nor language can now tell. 
 What his sad countenance did speak so well. 
 As resolute did Corydon renew ; 
 For he, his present and past hours did view 
 With sorrow, and he bid adieu to all. 
 Saying, Thy tale aims but to make me fall : 
 Farewell then ! O thou confident, farewelll 
 Inspir'd by Phcebus, go my woes to tell I 
 Protect him Jove, and all ye Nine, ador'd ! 
 Protect him Pallas ! Pan, the rural lord ! 
 Here, to the gods sommending, he the swain 
 Did rise with haste, to seek his woe again ;' 
 Alone to wander ; alone to keep the hour 
 Of day, in grots ; of night, in lonely bow'r. 
 Here saw Lycidas all his efforts now fail, 
 -Nor song, nor sad condolement, could avail. 
 
 Poor
 
 LYCIDAS AND CORYDON. 15 
 
 Poor Corydon, adieu ! said he, adieu ! 
 I'll hence, and supplicate the gods for you ; 
 Here weeping, ended, and flew o'er the mead. 
 Poor Lycidas, to seek the nymphs, in speed. 
 While Corydon, in seeming happiness. 
 Fell on his knees, and thus did Jeve address : 
 What others are, thon chiefest of my love, 
 Jove dwellincr in magnificence above : 
 Thou Truth ! Eternal Wisdom ! thou Exact ! 
 With gratitude in excellence doth act ; 
 Hope, mercy thine ; O Jove infinite clear ! 
 Conspicuous, both extending far and near ; 
 Abounding goods, but trifling ills pursue. 
 And follow us from this world to the new ; 
 Then shall I cease Amynta to deplore, 
 To follow swains' shrill piping o'er the moor. 
 If so, O God ! that love thou giv'st me now. 
 That love, resulting first and last from thou, 
 O take from me ! and let retention fail ! 
 Let every thing be new, or nought avail ! 
 
 DEMCETA
 
 ( 16 ) 
 
 DEMCETA AND INIENALCA. 
 
 Scene. A Landslip; Demceta and Menalca 
 discovered: their Departure ^ and Adieu, 
 
 DEMCETA. 
 
 Obsequious Menalc' ; I leave the flocks, 
 Spontaneous shrubs, and variegated heaths. 
 Thy slumbers mossy, and thy piping muse, 
 Expanded heights, and valleys low imbow'd. 
 
 MENALCA. 
 
 Nature's chief bloom ; nor raise responsive airs : 
 Attentive move ; chaunt laurell'd Pliaebiis' praise ; 
 Exile thyself ; leave rich Palilian games; 
 Or s^wcious lawns; Aurora's affluence sing. 
 
 DCEMETA. 
 
 Still thou keep CEgon's flocks, exult in hyacinth. 
 Where Hybloian bees sip flow'rets around. 
 By trefoil flowers, intricate labyrinths ; 
 Nor I meet us'd; their folds I no more know. 
 
 MENALCA,
 
 DEMCETA AND MENALCA. 17 
 
 MENALCA. 
 
 Nor Phoebus, thou, nor Nine, resound in vocal 
 
 charms ; 
 Or join the circled ring, re-echoing Jove ; 
 But rural Pan obscure, and Aspin heights. 
 Or Jove, Nine, Pallas, more delightful seem. 
 
 DEMffiTA. 
 
 Why sliould I breake the shepherds' humble shades; 
 Or strain harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps ? 
 But I, no more a swain : Jove fills the whole, 
 Troas, Xanth, the elimental main. 
 He, sacred Father ; and Menalc', by him 
 Auroi-a, Zephyrus, TEolus play. 
 Pierce Orion rolls, and seasons bend to him : 
 He, and he alone, Omnipotent ! 
 Made Lybia fierce, and dauntless Albion, 
 Arcadia mild ; gave echos solitary. 
 Like Phoebus, thou Menalc', and blushing hya- 
 cinth ,' 
 Nor cease to sing, with Cynthius, to Jove ; 
 Nor cease to praise him with the golden morn : 
 He humbleth me ; Urania he exalts ; 
 Vitula, Astroea, Fortuna, his. 
 He, comic Thalia, gave immortal string : 
 What to Democt' ? Pieria's mount inspir'd : 
 
 c He,
 
 18 DEMCETA AND MENALCA. 
 
 He, Mellissa, Pallas, to the groves did bring} 
 
 Mars made tremendous, Pitho eloquent ; 
 
 Ceres, Volusian seasons gave ; Clymene, night's 
 
 gloom 
 Hideous in shades, to scream in owlet's round. 
 Ascolia gave to Bacchus, Pluto hell's loom, 
 Menalca, rural sweets. Arcadian : 
 Nor Atreus, Pelops, Hippodamia, 
 Nor their long honor'd lines, so bleess'd as thee, 
 Thou rural youth. Smiling Apollo's thine ; 
 Thine, Cyane, Sylvanus, all Arcadia; 
 But Agon's harsh, nor these, Mcnalc', I know ; 
 Nor can I bear severe austerity : 
 Hence I my flocks forsake ; hence weep, and lose 
 
 my friend : 
 Nor mine thou Syrinx nymph, nor mine to 
 
 cheer ; 
 Or musing know thy fam'd uneven reed : 
 Or wondering hear the tale of Pan, and thee: 
 How, from Syrinx, the rural pipe arose. 
 Yet, oft I'll deign to sing of him and thee : 
 Of him, who nrst gave pipe to rural song. 
 Then will I weep, as now I weep, Menalca ! 
 Remembering this my sad farewell to thee ; 
 This last adieu, and this departing sigh ; 
 Ah ! then my heart from sympathy will bleed, 
 With every friend 1 leave a part of m^ 
 
 And
 
 DEMCETA AND MENALCA. 19 
 
 And every sigh steals on my weary'd life. 
 
 AVhen I reflect ; but still 'tis mine to leave 
 
 The lyric branch of Micteus Antiope; 
 
 yEtherous me^d, and sylvan Rusina ; 
 
 Or hope to me thy rural pastures give. 
 
 Still I must weep : instinctive nature's cause . 
 
 Is sad oppression, and illiberal ties. 
 
 Yet, I would Jove had softened iEgott's 
 
 will. 
 
 Nor Satyrs please, nor Arion, or Narciss ; 
 
 No flowerin({ charms, melodious bestow. 
 
 Nor they to me harmonious do appear ; 
 
 Nor mix in happy rural sympathy ; 
 
 Nor discontent did ever knaw my breast. 
 
 Till sad oppression wreath'd my brow with 
 care : 
 
 And thus dejected left me as you see ; 
 
 Nor Vesper, Sol, or Tamarisk delight. 
 
 MENALCA. 
 
 Absolve, and pardon me, if I'm too bold, * 
 
 Impart, Demceta, to Menaka, all. 
 
 Ah I ah ! 'tis not for me to weep, and leave my 
 
 sheep. 
 ^is not for me to smile ; Demoeta's gone. 
 
 c 2 Why
 
 20 DEMCETA AND MENALCA. 
 
 Why anxious thou, alas ! to leave thy flocks ? 
 Poor boy ! why thus dejected ? Come, forego 
 The care aad sad oppression which thou feel'st; 
 Or, obsequious I, from sympathy must weep; 
 For, Nature universal reigns the same ; 
 Her feeling and participation speaks 
 All other words in that same sympathy : 
 Unhappy I ! O youth ! forego thy ,care ; 
 Nor sing discordance thus unknown to swains. 
 Thou said'st 'twas <Egon that despis'd thy muse. 
 And from him first oppression took its rise. 
 But cease to be obscure ; the name disclose ; 
 Nor longer be, Demoet' his name disguls'd. 
 Mystic to me, these specious wiles unknown : 
 Nor let obscenely torrents thus surmiie. 
 Accumulate, and fluctuate again. 
 
 DEMCETA. 
 
 An abject wretch, nor muses deign to hear : 
 If rural he, why swains pastoral scorn. 
 Abjection vile, unholy shrieks be his. 
 Nor worthy such to bear a rural name. 
 
 MENALCA. 
 
 Obscure be such, nor of Sylvanus bows. 
 Pan pipe, Cepkeus chaunt, you again hold the 
 dance, 
 
 Still
 
 demceTa and menalca. 21 
 
 Still gay beneath Aurora's glimmering head ; 
 Nor Acanth's shoots, Oread's frolics leave ; 
 Nor fail 3?our flocks, or nature's teeming womb. 
 Behold majestic she, exhaustiess rise ! 
 Nor pensive thou; sad, seek an uncouth tomb. 
 Jove virtuous, and auspicious around ; 
 Benevolent and free his goodness rolls ; 
 Nor herds impetuous, nor frantic sounds; 
 But sylvan piping., bends from pole to pole. 
 
 DEMCETA. 
 
 Ye copious flocks, thick-laden box,^ adieu ! 
 Menalca on spontaneous cypress bed, 
 Ambitious Ivy, thou (Egon worse, adieu ! 
 Unbounded I, nor here more ruminate. 
 
 menalca. 
 Yet dearer than flocks to me, Demceta be. 
 Thy hand, thou weeper, thine alone I ask. 
 O sacred friendship ! must thy ties be broke ? 
 O no ! but, still united, stronger be. 
 Long as retention, as her being here ; 
 Thou Jove immortal, and ye Nine, protect ; 
 To thou, and ye, belong our future joys ! 
 
 bemceta. 
 Or I forget Menalca, dear to me, 
 
 c 3 Dearer
 
 22 DEMCETA AND MENALCA. 
 
 Dearer than flocks, Amynta, or the Nine, 
 
 Or Virgil with his soft Maenalian airs. 
 
 Or poor Tityro, lolling on the beach ; 
 
 So dear Menalca, to Demcetus be ; 
 
 Leave but my hand, my heart remains with thee, 
 
 Oh ! cease with me to weep, thou friendship dear. 
 
 PAN
 
 ( 23 J 
 
 PAN AND APPOLLO 
 
 OR THE 
 
 RECOVERY. 
 
 THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 Wherein Lycidas, with his companion Tityro, is, 
 from instinctive gratitude, found giving praise to 
 Pan, and Apollo, whose unremitted attentions, 
 kindnesses, and civilities, during the pestilential 
 indisposition of Lycidas, deserve more praise 
 than the pathetic author of this ecclogue 
 can give, under the faint appellation of pastoral 
 simplicity. 
 
 c 4 Scene,
 
 24 PAN AND APOLLO, OR 
 
 Scene. Egj/pty near Alexandria : Time, Morning. 
 TITYRUS and LYCIDAs discovered. 
 
 LYCIDAS. 
 
 Come thou, Tityro, Lycidas advise, 
 Lycid', the poor and humble, teach to rise. 
 To celebrate humanity's esteem, 
 Apollo's laurel, and great Pan sewne ; 
 Those, boldly daring, ventur'd to the grove. 
 Where pestilential madness still did rove : 
 These then should duly treble honor's claim, 
 Bearing in misery such human pain. 
 'Midst philosophic reasoning thus to die. 
 Or live buthalf a life of misery ! 
 Nor mine so much to sing, an humble swain j 
 Great task! nor I tostrains sublime attain ; 
 Yet feeUng thou, ah ! ah ! I fainly would. 
 Impulsive aid ! eternal Jove I should. 
 O Feeling ! thou susceptible to all ! 
 Dictative thou, and penetrative fall. 
 Thou canst in silence mute cause tears to flow : 
 Thy inward force doth teach me how to know; 
 Doth cause the sympathetic sigh to rise. 
 While, softly rising up before my eves, 
 Retention sv/eet, appear; come, and combine 
 Thy beams collected, ever-greer, to shine. 
 
 Ye
 
 THE RECOVERY. 25 
 
 Ye make me weep ; ah ! weep in gratitude, 
 Wherein unspeakable sensations brood. 
 How have I toil'd, sweet obligated force ? u 
 Arising from instinctive nature's course : 
 How I have sigh'd ! how, Tityro, I weep ! 
 How weeping thus, and sighing, knew no sleep. 
 Ah ! then, had sweet philosophy forsook. 
 Nor thee I'd known, or song, or running 
 
 brook : 
 But nature, in goodness, kept me still a man. 
 To celebrate a*** ***, ina Pan, 
 And raise another in Appollo's name. 
 Both humane, good, aiFectionate, and tame, 
 I'o celebrate a * * * in gentle strains, 
 Can give but ease to Lycidas' sad pains. 
 Amidst grim horror thus exisfing still, 
 I sing upon the Lazaretto's hill. 
 By this alone 'tis I abate my woe. 
 And nature grows familiar as I sro. 
 O happiness ! too exquisite to last, 
 Supporter of the future, present, past. 
 How is't, Philosophy, thy beams outstretch. 
 Surpassing far the sight of mortal wretch j 
 Still ill thy mercy giving him a glance, 
 A glance that bids him from the grave advance. 
 
 Such
 
 26 PAN AND APOLLO, OR 
 
 Such Sympathy's own God did give to her ; 
 
 She In her essence, mortal man to err. 
 
 Humanity instinctive, she instills ; 
 
 But endless fault, she varies with our wills. 
 
 Diffidence, love, vice, virtue, feeling, she 
 
 Unconquerable diffidence in me. 
 
 Her own esteem ; but chief, her God's just praise. 
 
 Her God's great sympathy, and all his ways. 
 
 Hence, must I sacrifice before I can, 
 
 Apollo's presence thus presume, or Pan ; 
 
 Then Tityro tell, for, thou alone dost know, 
 
 W hat can I less, to generous hearts bestow ? 
 
 What can I less upon my altar slay 
 
 Than those selected twelve you there see play ; 
 
 Than those selected beauties I so love. 
 
 Surpassing others, fer as Jove above. 
 
 What can I less ? Speak, gentle youth, what less ? 
 
 Look ! look ! what less to sacrifice and bless. 
 
 Innocent beauties ! nature, sweet, and tame ; 
 
 Ah ! must ye bleed, to raise immortal fame ? 
 
 Must ye sweet lambkins die, and I imbrue, 
 
 'JVIidst dripping tears, my hands in blood, from 
 
 you. 
 What, would ye com.e ! see Tityro, this must die. 
 This innocent, that never yet did vie. 
 
 Sweet
 
 THE RECOVERY. Hf 
 
 Sweet lambkin, choice of all the flock, 
 And this small flock a choice of Qi^gon's stock. 
 Sad thought ! yet pleasing and fulfilling bliss ; 
 Jove, for such lives, and Pan, knowrs happiness. 
 Yet still, O still ! I would their envy'd peace 
 Would flow from them to me, and never cease. 
 Praise due, my lay would not the honor claim ; 
 
 Of wreathingnow in a 's name ; 
 
 Nor should I incense, then, prepare to raise 
 
 Or sweetest Iambs, to raise the sacrifice. 
 
 Say, wilt thou, Tityro, make them bleed with 
 
 me ? 
 A liberal hand I will bestow on thee ; 
 I'll thank thy friendship, and thy love sincere. 
 Explore thy gratitude, and learn to fear 
 Thy name in reverence, and thy wish obey. 
 Mine shall it be to help thy weary way, 
 To toil when you toil, to sigh when you do 
 
 sigh; 
 To smile when you smile, and watch the lambkins 
 
 by; 
 To weep when you weep, assist when you do 
 
 want ; 
 To share what thou wilt, and give thee of mv 
 
 scant ; 
 
 To
 
 28 PAK and APOLLO, OR 
 
 To watch thy will, participate thy dread ; 
 T'unfold at morn, and seek at eve, thy fled; 
 To sing at noon, and pipe with thee at night ; 
 And to obstruct thy adversaries* sight. 
 This I will do ; then say, O Tityro ! 
 Smile, ay ! thou Tityro, nor be my foe ; 
 T ask no more, but consecrate to Pan, 
 Great God, the sacrifice of mortal man. 
 
 Had thy request been careless to thy friend. 
 More happy I, unhappy thee to mend. 
 Twelve lambkins there selected I perceive, 
 Expressive in themselves ; to whatatchieve 
 Thou dost intend them, swain, to what good end ? 
 The gods behold, I hope ; hence I implore. 
 Innocents, ye would weep, yet knowing more. 
 
 Ah ! weep, sweet kmbkiiis, I would weep, them 
 too : 
 
 Would'st thou not weep, just Tityro, to view ? 
 
 TITYRO. 
 
 Thou'rt just, poor Lycidas ! I pity thee. 
 It is a sweet participation free : 
 
 Pity
 
 THE RECOVERY. 9 
 
 Pity is free, and sympathy is love ; 
 
 And both begotten of the same wise Jove. 
 
 LYCIDAS. 
 
 Tityro, accept my thanks ; for that thou hast ; 
 And may our future friendship bear the past. 
 
 TITYRO. 
 
 Doubtless, svireet Lycidas, an honor too 
 Begat, descending from the gods to you. 
 
 LYCIDAS. 
 
 No honor we do claim, but those of gods; 
 'Tis those alone make happy our abodes. 
 
 TITYRO. 
 
 A variation is a deed too great, 
 
 Nor dares such empire mark our humble state. 
 
 LYCIDAS. 
 
 Great blessing, may we live to glory's seat : 
 Our God ! our God ! may he still prosper it. 
 
 TITYRO. 
 
 A God! a God! for ever teach us how ! 
 That God who gives this happy blessing now. 
 
 To this intent their mutual converse, they, 
 Shady beneath the noontide beams they lay, 
 Advancing each his own suggestions ease ; 
 But still advancing, nothing more can please. 
 
 Anxious
 
 so PAN AND APPOLLO, OR 
 
 Anxious for eve's approach, Lycidas sat. 
 Chiding Hesperian hours, and doleful bat, 
 As of a sad, and lingering delay, 
 As forming shades nocturnal, into day. 
 When Tityro, 
 
 Lycid', thou'rt too anxious far ; 
 
 Ah ! far too anxious, youth, chid not his car; 
 
 I too am young, haste not diurnal force, 
 
 Phcebus, great god of day, haste not his course ; 
 
 Nor wage the dire anger of his mighty rays, 
 
 His solar gleams, his noontide sacred buys. 
 
 Bless'd God! creative of eternalJove, 
 
 In this small part our happiness doth rove; 
 
 Child of the sun, would'st thou not see thv God ; 
 
 But make a chaos of thy bless'd abode ? 
 
 LYCIDAS. 
 
 Stay ! stay ! what wouldst thou, Tityro ? 
 'Tis thine to stay, not to increase my woe. 
 
 TiryRo. 
 See then joy, and flocks sporting ! Nature now 
 
 doth teem ; 
 Beneath Sol's radiance, beatitude cloth gleam. 
 See ! see ! just Lycidas, and behold ! 
 Look ! see thy God in every herb unfold ! 
 
 J.YCIPAS,
 
 THE RECOVZRV. 31 
 
 LYCIDAS. 
 
 Ah, Tityro ! Tityro ! happy ! happy me, 
 Tityro, thrice happy ! bless'd in God, and thee ! 
 
 Thus they in social love still pass the hours. 
 Till, lull'd by winds, they 'sink beneath the 
 
 bowers 
 Senseless In sleep, reviving in its arms. 
 Profound they lie, udheeding beauty's charms, 
 Lycid' and Tityro, conipanions sweet, 
 Fromcaies, and toils, as midnight nature, meet. 
 Soft hous'd they lie, nought their sweet balm dis- 
 
 turb'd ; 
 All quiet, still, all is to them unheard. 
 Here Jove beheld! just God ! and saw their prime. 
 And pitying those degenerate sons of time. 
 Mercury cal I'd, Olympia's height ascends. 
 W hen Jove his voice in awful thunder bends ; 
 Hie voice in awful thunder they convey; 
 Around the rural scenes of Pan they stray ; 
 Pan from great Jove in sov'reign voice they hail ; 
 From Jove, O Pan ! whence flocks and peace 
 
 })revail ; 
 To thee our course ! to thee we come intent. 
 Jove hails thee, Pan ; and we, thus humbly sent, 
 Obey his sov'reign and eternal will : 
 Obedient to his call, obeying still ; 
 
 Wh er.ce
 
 82 PAN AND APOLLO, OR 
 
 Whence animation, and these blessM abodes, 
 Whence prang eternal wisdom, and the Gods, 
 Bftde us hie hence, nor spare the nightly flight. 
 Haste, and surpass th'approaching shades of 
 
 night. 
 The generous action I heard without reply, 
 Axious swain, and diffident to try. 
 Haste thou to Pan, the impending offering tell. 
 Pan, the great od of shepherds, knows him well. 
 Mercury, haste, 'tis nature's best effect, 
 'Tis this coherent passion I respect. 
 The generous action go disclose to view. 
 Twelve lambkins his intention to imbrue ; 
 These to great Pan, this eve he means to rise 
 This sacrifice of feeling Pan surprize ; 
 His honor to the Gods is duly paid, 
 Humanity's esteem makes him afraid. 
 Jove pitying, sent me Mercury thus by ; 
 Nor doubts, but thou wilt all his wants supply. 
 The gods forsaw in sympathy this youth, 
 Foresaw his love sincere to Pan, and truth : 
 For these twelve lambkins he haslabour'd hard, 
 Spare but these twelve, and all his worth is spar'd. 
 .love spoke in awe majestic, and we flew. 
 His essence ubiquatary we knew. 
 
 Thus
 
 THE RICOVERY. 33 
 
 Thus ended he : now, to Olympus' height. 
 Imagination's self must paint the flight. 
 Here Pan's increas'd beneficence did swell : 
 Involving Pan the youth collected well. 
 And thus in awful tone forthwith he broke ; 
 And thus his rural sympathy invok'd. 
 
 PAN. 
 
 From Jove ! from Jove ! Attend, ye swains, attend. 
 From Jove! from Jove ! ye humble nymphs come 
 
 bend. 
 Great God, how just ! how just, Eternal Pow't I 
 Gteat God of rural sports, and pagan hour ; 
 Almighty thou ! unnumber'd worlds attend. 
 And thy great influence the smallest end : 
 Swains, nymphs, pipe, harmony, and reed. 
 Advance your jocund songs, resound the mead, 
 Arcadia -smile around, in beauty shine; 
 Let ev'ry joy, and ev'ry sweet be thine ; 
 Stand round me, ye who consecrate your themes 
 To Jove, to love, to peace, and happy dreams. 
 Join glee with mirth, your song with rural sports^ 
 And let discordance envy your resorts. 
 To ye I call, bless'd train I ye heard from Jove, 
 And pitying felt the ardour of his love : 
 Then haste, accomplish stay the lads just view ; 
 Haste, give him peace, surpassing that he knew. 
 D Go,
 
 J4 VAn AND APOLLO, OR 
 
 Go, welcome him, let him join in your trains. 
 
 Teach him the joyous reed, and pastor strains, 
 
 Go, tell him, says the wise presaging Pan, 
 
 Hence, go, embrace, and call him no more man ; 
 
 But tell him this is fiction in himself : 
 
 The great intent is on the just behalf 
 
 Of his god Pan, so noble, just, and true ; 
 
 Of his Apollo, and his sacred hue. 
 
 Go tell him, never, never, to be vain. 
 
 Or triumph in the honours he may gain ; 
 
 Or trample on the honour of his gods ; 
 
 But learn to know his flows from their abodes. 
 
 Go tell him, adulation is bdse pain. 
 
 That secret knowledge is instinctive -jain : 
 
 Go tell him to maintain his liberty ; 
 
 But never with his gods to be too free. 
 
 Respect grows wise, from unfamiliar talk, 
 
 As orodscrrow social in an absent walk. 
 
 Terrestrial sons, think not poetic fame. 
 
 No! no ! 'tis truth, the guidance of my pen* 
 
 Think not poetic fiction dwells in this ; 
 
 Names speak no fiction, truth our happiness* 
 
 My gods can witness, witness, when I die, 
 
 Their testimonies are existing by. 
 
 Still, still, it is the great attempt I sin^ 
 
 Of Europe's sons, to save Europa's king. 
 
 If
 
 THE RECOVERY. 55 
 
 If their attempts are vain, then must they fall ; 
 Still, still, Europa would the same in all. 
 Think not, O men 1 I here exaggerate. 
 In Afric's soil, I've seen Europa's state. 
 The Levant woe, and Asiatic fire ; 
 None would she seek for, but her own desire. 
 Oh ! could another Saviour burst from men. 
 Nor pestilential ire would know us then. 
 Immortal such resolv'd, immortal kine ; 
 Come, with humanity your strength entwine ; 
 Resolve this life to leave for thousands' rest. 
 Oreat Jove ! humanity still deems the best. 
 What's poetry ? imagination say, : 
 
 Compar'd with this, 'tis but an idle play. 
 Say, what are arts, what sciences, to those 
 Nobly resolv'd, and daring to oppose ? 
 The world astonish by their human plan ; 
 i or, all their study is the love of man. 
 Who would not sing, such men, such men adored 
 Reflecting still, still giving them the more. 
 AVho firmly thus explore the cause they would. 
 The hidden mystery, by nature rul'd. 
 Thousands must die, amidst such mis'ries shar'd. 
 And such by thousands still must be rcver'd. 
 
 T) 2 
 
 niEFACF.
 
 < 36 ) 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO THE 
 
 FOREGOING PASTORAL. 
 
 IF you think I liave made too free with mjr 
 gods, ir I have introduced them where they ought 
 not to be introduced ; if I have given them that 
 which shoxrid not have been given to them ; if in- 
 sinuation, adulation, or assumption, has taken 
 place ; then I am lost, and can speak to my gods 
 as to my brothers ; and this circumstance, least 
 of all ; for, it will tend to discourage, instead of 
 encourage, and all knowledge of nature and my- 
 self is dead ; then in her participation has this in- 
 stinctive mistress misled me. Her qualities are 
 not the qualities limagined they were ; her pow- 
 ers are not original ; her participations are un- 
 just ; her motions are not uniform ; her actions 
 are mere deviations ; her instinct is irregular, and 
 unavailing ; and her sympathy is non-co-operative. 
 
 Prove
 
 PRE FACE TO THE rOREGOING. 37 
 
 "Proxt one of these instances, and all parts and 
 powers are utterly abolished. Man is no longer 
 man; reason^ reason j^ or philosophy, philosophy. 
 Nature is lost, and sympathy dead ; and I am 
 an atom deviating in the general course of na- 
 ture ; have formed artificial, instead of instinctive 
 and co-operative verse ; and, like many other non- 
 instinctive diminutives, must fall. But, no, I 
 will maintain, that this is not the present case ; 
 for, I wrote from a power, ami an exciting pro- 
 pensity in nature, matter, and form ; a power 
 compelling, perceptible, and instinctive, and 
 gravitating towards its centre ; not with a view 
 of gaining manly or worldly esteem, but the es- 
 teem of humanity ; not to gain, by insinuation, the 
 favour of my gods. Although this sympathetic 
 and uniform power is theirs, I have this partici- 
 pating and co-operative essence in my own bosom, 
 as warm as imagination ever put forth its glance 
 in a truly-good man, formed naturally feeling, and 
 philosophically wise, I see its immediate power, 
 and I feel it, a propelling virtuous property. It 
 is this property that I esteem ; take It from my 
 gods, and I would turn indignant on them ; 
 and I would spurn at kings if they had it not ; for, 
 it is base indeed, as some adulating men do, to 
 D 3 buy
 
 SB tKZTACZ TO THE FOREGOING,' 
 
 buy friendship by flattery or unworthy praisey 
 It has something too hard in it for contentment, and 
 the receiver is condoled btit little by the base com- 
 pliments of the donor. Hence the necessity of fol- 
 lowing the steps of nature, and uniformly dis- 
 pensing with adulation. For my part, I must 
 ay, with David, (varying the application of sense,) 
 '* it is too great for me ; I cannot attain unto it, O 
 Cod !" But, leaving this deviation for others, I 
 can only say, if I have deviated, nature has devi- 
 ated : and, to make my pastoral good, if this be 
 the case, an impossibiUty in non-existence must 
 be rendered a possibility, or a possible co-ope- 
 ration in uniform matter. Respecting the laws of 
 poetry, I believe I have not imjwrtantly trans- 
 gressed on them ; but these bear a boundless 
 uniformity in nature ; and, as we change the 
 ccne, so we must vary the notes ujx^n, and the 
 characters existing therein ; for, those laws alone 
 are set about that have been laid down at various 
 periods, as one generation follows upon another, 
 led entirely by fancy, to form such conjectural 
 combinations ; and these combinations rather 
 serve to check than aleviate the propensities pe- 
 culiar to mental perseverance ; and I can see no 
 leason why a natural poet should not live with 
 
 natural
 
 PREFACE TO THE FOREGOIKC. ,30 
 
 liatnral laws, as well as a poet of art by axti- 
 iicial : and I believe there are but few who would 
 not give Shakespeare the preference to Addison ; 
 and Spencer (for the iiicUnation of nature) to 
 Pope ; for, we find him, and some others, bound 
 by facility, nor endeavouring to undermine or 
 over-reach nature, or aspire in emulative strains 
 their fellow-creatures, in nature blessed, un- 
 fortunate in art ! Hence gently as she grew 
 up dictative, I followed, adhered, and grew up 
 under her influence. She readily became fami- 
 liar, and I indifferent to look on art. Therefore, 
 if I have transgressed on the rules of poetry, it is 
 a natural, not a casual or Intentional, intrusio;i 
 on the privileges of mankind, for which I suppose 
 I shall be buried in ignorance and faults ; and 
 yet my characters are all peculiar to pastoral po-" 
 etry. Pan, Apollo, Tityro, and his friend Ly- 
 cidas. As to what passes between Jove and Pan, 
 i.5 unrelatlve in itself to the pastoral, and peculiar 
 to gods alone ; and this peculiar principle is uni- 
 versally maintained, and perhaps multiplied to 
 worlds, without number. The pastoral is sup- 
 ported by characters appropriate, and proper in 
 themselves. Jove does not speak in the pastoral ; 
 but then Mercury does in the words of Jove ; and 
 p 4 even
 
 4<5 PRKFACE TO THE FOREGOING. 
 
 even this circumstance incurs but a very faint d\5- 
 ficulty. The shepherds themselves do not con- 
 terse with Jove ; and it is well known that Mer- 
 cury has often visited shepherds on his own ac- 
 count ; and why should he not visit them on ac- 
 count of his god ? And, if this trifling circumstance 
 can be naturally, philosophically, or poetically, 
 iiccounted for, or granted, the whole difficulty is 
 ever; for, I know of no other throughout, either 
 trivial or important j unless Lycidas at first is 
 iflpresented as speaking too much, too tedious, 
 and too long. But this, like many other occur- 
 rences in poetry, must rest dependant upon th 
 decernment, peculiarity, and adjustment, of tiifc 
 reader's natural and co-operative propensities^ 
 
 DIONE.
 
 f 4ri y 
 
 DIONE, MELIBEE, ANDTHYRSEr 
 
 OR 
 
 THE APOLOGY. 
 
 MELIEEE. 
 
 JnlOW didst thou first become the oaten reedy 
 I'o sing, Dione, and pathetic bleed ? 
 
 DrONEr 
 
 Sometimes I'm social, and familiar too; 
 Sometimes I'm loving, and surpassing you. 
 Sometimes ye say I speak harsh jarring sounds. 
 And lose my sheep in those uneven bounds. 
 
 THYRSE, 
 
 Oft hast thou told, Dione, oft told me. 
 Inviting anxious Milibee to thee : 
 
 When
 
 42 filONE, MEMBEE, AND THYRSE! 
 
 When nothing flovv'd relative of thy tisle, 
 
 How wrought your cause, and how you sought the 
 
 vale : 
 Joyous or sad, unhappy man or not ; 
 If Jove willM mirth, or grief, or peace thy lot. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Our confidence as shepherds, long ere now, 
 In rustic frankness we perform'd our vow. 
 Why still dost weep and bear a heavy heart, 
 When smiles are thine surpassing nature's part. 
 If thou wouldst ever smile, we'd know thy will, 
 Thy smiles from Jove, thy sorrows difrer still. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Do my sweet sorrows so I'ar differ thine ? 
 
 And do my smiles thy woes so far outshine ? 
 
 Still, still we're happy, boys, a-keeping sheep. 
 
 Smiling ; or, while they strav, we pipe or weep. 
 
 Of Amarilla speak, or smile the woe ; 
 
 Alexy feels, or make our feelings flow. 
 
 And wander with the exil'd Melibee ; 
 
 Poor swain ! Ah ! Melibee, far this from thee ! 
 
 Far, far from thee this woe. O happy swain ! 
 
 To thee, sweet Tityro lolls in idle pain. 
 
 Oh ! what a train of luscious sweets might here 
 
 Progressive rule, and idly learn to fear. 
 
 Sweet
 
 OR THE APOLOGY. 43 
 
 Sweet lambkins sporting round. But where's 
 
 thy sheep ? 
 The ewes and rams our absent hours do keep. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 CursM absence ! Where's my flock, and where's 
 
 my sheep ? 
 My flock, Dione ! Melibee, my sheep ! 
 
 Me LI BEE. 
 
 Patience,, good lad ; will they attend thy call ? 
 Will they attend thy social pipe's shrill call ? 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Oh ! wretched shepherd ! Bad, ah ! bad indeed. 
 
 Dione, Melibee, where is't they feed ? 
 
 Say where, O shepherd bad ! where is thy 
 
 flock ? 
 Hapless they've stray 'd, and mix'd with iEgon's 
 stock. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Ah ! cruel, cruel prince ! he sheer'd my mother's 
 
 few. 
 Vain she implor'd, and vain her weeping hue. 
 Austere, he smihng bade her home, away ! 
 In vain she wept their accidental stray. 
 
 THYRSTC,
 
 44 EIGNE,- MClAVtZ, AND TBYRSE : 
 
 T HY RS. 
 
 Tlien give, Dione, all thy joys to me, 
 
 For< I am wretched, happy still you be. 
 
 1 dare not venture to my cottage home ; 
 
 Peace ! I dare not. Still be it mine to roam. 
 
 Yes, yes f I am an exile, doom'd to v<reep. 
 
 Nor smile, Dione. Melibee, my sheep' F 
 
 Jf they have stray'd, and mix'd with T^Lgon's! 
 
 Oh! 
 Here ends my bliss, and here begins my woe ! 
 
 DroNE. 
 There leap thy rams, lo yonder brinky brake. 
 And, lo ! thy butting ewes at yonder stake ! 
 Oh! joy transcendant ! Peace and joy still come. 
 Still Thyrse, MeKbee, aud Dion*s home. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 And yonder, too, the Spa, lo ! watching those.- 
 Fine dog ! he speaks their bounds in his repose. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 'We may converse ; and happy, Thyrse, be J 
 Thy dog is faithful, and thy flocks, to thee. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Happy, thrice happy I ! Oh! faithful dog! 
 He knovr* their bounds, beneath is Agon's bog. 
 
 Beneath
 
 OR THE APOLOGY. -16 
 
 "SeneatVi the hill, whereon be lies asleep ; 
 And that's the only path to forqe the ^heep, 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 This is the shepherd's court, where virtue reigns, 
 Surpassing worldly love, or worldly gains. 
 Still how he wept at cruel yEgon's part ! 
 It was (that terror prince that shook his heart, 
 
 THYUSE. 
 
 Now Spa, Dione, Melibee, and friends. 
 Your truths coherent love shall make amends ; 
 And to be joyous now shall be my pains. 
 Unless ye force me, by your simple strains. 
 To weep in fiction what in truth I knowj 
 By feeling's pow'r : for, I felt the blow. 
 Ah ! joyous I now meet my father's dome. 
 Sweet court, where flow'rs attribute their home, 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Where odours waft their sweet cohesive force. 
 And careless nature leads transcendant course, 
 A happy court. Oh ! Thyrse, learn to know : 
 Strive not from whence, for thee alone they flow. 
 
 MELIEEE. 
 
 Dione, wreaths of sadden'd unknown sport. 
 Thy features speak to us another court. 
 
 DIONE.
 
 46 DioNE, MELiBEE, and thyrse: 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Is it Ti\j features or my looks you mean ? 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 It Is your countenance' dictative mien. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Oil 1 nature, varying in thy looks at court, 
 ^Coherent looks, and incoherent sport. 
 But sure my looks cohere with thy resort ? 
 I would not be, O Melibee ! distort. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Indifferently thy looks surpass our view, 
 ^lore graceful far than nature's rustic hue. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Art happy, T^ion', in our social way ? 
 'Thou happy lookst, art happy, Dion' ? Say. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Thou askst as tbou wouldst have him say he was. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 I ask'd as I would have him say he is. 
 
 But well thou knowst he's not a boyish lad ; 
 
 Kor diffident to speak, if good or bad. 
 
 niONE.
 
 OR THE APOLOGY. 4/ 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Happy, thrice happy Dion' ! social mirth I 
 Coeval such, nor sacred with my birth. 
 
 THVRSE. 
 
 I do not comprehend thy force by this. 
 Is't joy or mirth, or wretched happiness ? 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Is't love alone, or sorrow's grief behind ? 
 Is't banishment or force tkus tears thy mind ? 
 Is't little care to please, or care too great ? 
 Or is this too incompetent a seat ? 
 
 BIOKE. 
 
 Mistaken words, or misap,ilied sense. 
 May be creative of incompetence : 
 May instigate Our grief, or joy, or mirth ; 
 Our banishment, our love, or sorrows birth > 
 Our care too little, or too great our toil. 
 May our own happiness and others spoil. 
 Happy, thrice happy Dion, with ye swains ! 
 Be ye to please, whate'er ye think my pains 
 Be ye, whate'er my sorrows seem to be, 
 Happy, thrice happy, Dion', bless'd in ye. 
 
 MELIBEE,
 
 48 DI0N,<>IL1BE, AKD TaVRSKX 
 
 MEIIBEE. 
 
 And rural sympathy still makes thy day ? 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Ah ! ah ! resolv'd in rural peace to stray ; 
 .Quiet my all resolv'd, 
 
 MELIEEE. 
 
 RcsulvM, you say ? 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Ah ! ah'! resolv'd to seek another day. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 What day ? Hadst thou a day in night before ? 
 
 "DIONE. 
 
 No, no ; a night in day. But let's no more. 
 Resolv'd I o,iiit, resolv'd I sought a home ; 
 Revolving quit, and, quitting, found this dome. 
 Revolve again I would, for this same sweet. 
 Again resolve such happiness to meet. 
 Such happiness as this I ne'er could view ; 
 For, midst contentment, sad oppression grew. 
 I quit, I quit ! But, Oh ! forgive me more. 
 .1 quit oppression's wreath, and sad deplore.
 
 OR THE APOLOGY. 49 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Then smile, and smile, for ever smile thy peace, 
 For smiles are thine, then smile nor ever cease. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Come, for a song let's pipe, and idly vie, 
 Let ev'ry sound in love dictative fly. 
 The poplar stands now 'neath its shortest shade. 
 And yonder sleep the sheep beneath the glade. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Anxious my windy reed doth wait each will, 
 \\ ilt Dion' sing the ram, and dog at ill ? 
 Correcting Thyrse loves to have it still. 
 
 TIIYRSE. 
 
 No Dione's friends, our flocks are ever here. 
 Departing Dione's sighs let us revere. 
 
 DIOXE. 
 
 Ah ! sad departure of my friends at home ; 
 Why would'st thou force retention to their dome? 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Thou wilt, O Thyrse ! Thyrse still thou wilt. 
 Unconscious Thyrse, all his sorrows spilt. 
 
 E THYRSK.
 
 50 DIONE, MELIBEE, AND THYRSI : 
 
 THY USE. 
 
 The sad departure of his friends at home. 
 Chiefly, O Mclibee, thou wish'd t' would come. 
 
 DIOXE. 
 
 Sad servitude ; unconscious friends ye sleep. 
 
 Whilst weeping still my toilsome hours I meet ; 
 
 These toilsome hours no more I know or feel. 
 
 These toilsome hours I never did reveal ; 
 
 Oh, cruel man ! illiterate old man ! 
 
 Oh, avarice ! and sordid vice ye can 
 
 Rob me of all : but secret Nature's force 
 
 Will still compel, and still direct her course; 
 
 Nightly I spell, and nightly learn her pow'r, 
 
 Lonely sequester'd in an humble hour ; 
 
 No school-boy's song, or tutelary aid, 
 
 I live to learn, but secret duties paid ; 
 
 And secret instinct still directs my way. 
 
 By influence guided, and by light's array : - 
 
 Oh, cruel man ! illiterate old man ! 
 
 Nor wilt thou let me sing of sheep at heart. 
 
 Nor wilt thou let my pipe the notes impart ; 
 
 Nor wilt thou let me learn my Tityro, 
 
 Or Grecian fire, or Italian flow ; 
 
 Oh, cruel man ! illiterate old man ! 
 
 These I must know, but know you never can. 
 
 MELIBKE,
 
 OR THE APOLOGY. 51 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Unconscious of the rural scene didst stray, 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 L I liv'd oppressed in my honest way ; 
 
 TIIYRSE. 
 
 Was't by indenture's force oppressive, say ? 
 
 DIOJfE. 
 
 'Twas 'neath Apollo's love-begotten child, 
 
 TIIYRSE. 
 
 Say in what school then was it you grew wild. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Midst yEsculapian wits, unsocial ties ; 
 
 sielibet;. 
 Ah, sad to tell, truths are abused lies ! 
 
 DIOXE. 
 
 *Twas light and sympathy upheld me then ; 
 
 TIIYRSE. 
 
 But tell me how this happen'd, where and when ? 
 
 DIOIVE. 
 
 I liv'd to know, nor found a social hour, 
 In no one's breast but in my bosom's bow'r. 
 
 E;2 MELIBEE
 
 52 DiONE, membee, and thyrse: 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 We pity thee ! and pity thee indeed ! 
 Pity's too late ! and thou hast now no need ; 
 Yet still our pity may a welcome find, 
 'Tis pity, free in innocence of mind. 
 
 THYUSE. 
 
 We wait in abxious pity for thy tale, 
 Pity is all ! and pity knows the vale ; 
 Whence art fled, in pity tell us that, 
 Be piteous then, and tell us how, or what? 
 
 DIOXE. 
 
 An uncle rob'd me of the all I had. 
 
 TIIYRSE. 
 
 Was't 'fore or after this oppressive sound ? 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 'Twas landed property, twelve thousand pound. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 This was a wound for thee immense indeed ; 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 It was a wound too small for it to bleed. 
 
 THYUSE. 
 
 O Nature ! ever feeling ! ever true 1 
 
 Nor could thy conscious pity force its hue ! 
 
 DIONE.
 
 OR THI APOLOCy. 53 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Instinct and influence long had left his heart. 
 No pit}'} reason pity had no part. 
 
 M ELI BEE. 
 
 Nor thou no form of law, or holv deed, 
 
 No father's force hadst thou, no mother's speed ? 
 
 DIOXE. 
 
 A widovv'd mother, helpless, 1 had then. 
 
 But uncle's cruelty outran her pen ; 
 
 My father died, Oh, cruel hasty death, 
 
 My father died, ten children breathe his breath ; 
 
 Ten little babies he did leave his worth. 
 
 Nor could the eldest call his tenth year forth. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Had Nature then no influence to persuade ? 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 She had her motive's own impressive aid j 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Ilcsultivc of what effort on thy part ? 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Her adverse laws did teach me all their art. 
 
 3 MELIBEE.
 
 34 DIONE, MBLIBEE, AND THYRSE : 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Did it not teach her heart's sad talc in thine ? 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 It taught mc men and manners to outshine. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 And what is this, a native power flown ? 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 1 know that power philosophy my home. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 And what is this philosophy to man ? ' 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 A power relative what to shun or scan. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 But say, is this the whole of thy sad tale ? 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 This part, O Thyrse 1 I no more reveal : 
 The widow'd mother feels the smart till now. 
 We live unconscious of the heavy blow ; 
 Taught not my mother's sad oppression's theme. 
 Her I lamented, and her bosom keen. 
 While yet, being young, as her sad story told, 
 Oppressive love had made her sixteen old. 
 
 Sad
 
 OR THE APOLOGY. 55 
 
 Sad tale, I wept ; she weeping did relate. 
 Deploring this her loss, and this her fate ! 
 Thus she would press her tender children round. 
 And kissing each, would weep them all around. 
 And with her ringlets, now In careless sport, 
 She'd wipe her eyes, or to his grave resort ; 
 For, when her little babies did all sleep, 
 She would deceive her maids and thither creep ; 
 Nor being miss'd disclos'd where she had been ; 
 To watch, a strict attention now was seen ; 
 Her maids were order'd to attend her course. 
 But grief excessive still deceiv'd their force. 
 Oh ! love surpassing ! Oh 1 excessive love : 
 How strong thy ties extensive pow'r doth move ; 
 Oh, grief! Oh, sorrow! knitting ties with earth, 
 Oh, love too great ! and noble from thy birth ; 
 Sincere in truth surpassing far to live. 
 Nor can she, death, thy cruelty forgive ! 
 For, now aloud the widow'd mother weeps, 
 And now deplores, and now aloud she weeps ! 
 Free from fear suggestmg nightly dread. 
 Upon his tomb she rests her weary head ; 
 Her sad domestics' wearied search at last. 
 Doth force them fearful to the tombs they past. 
 Her husband's spot approaching first they seek, 
 Repos'd they find her fearful still to speak : 
 
 E 4 When
 
 56 DIONE, MELTBi:?^, AND THYRSE: 
 
 When thus her handmaid's voice was heard to say. 
 Oh ! loving mistress ! mistress, come away ; 
 Nor dwell with horrid apparitions here, 
 How is't thou couldst have courage to appear 
 In such a place, and at a wretched hour ; 
 Nor all thy servants courage have such pow'r. 
 As waking on her bed of down at home, 
 Her powers' imagination forc'd her home. 
 And thus bewilder'd in her reason speaks. 
 Unconscious of the tomb her children seeks. 
 Come here, sweet babes ! Babies haste to me. 
 Come, and deplore tiiy father's f.ite in me ! 
 Ah, death ! fair death ! hadst thou but taught me 
 
 how 
 To wreathe a web coherent with his brow, 
 Yac this to die, these little babies then. 
 With their sweet budding reasons had not been 
 Thus multiply'd ; or their dear father gone. 
 Thussavingscream'd, and weep'daloudto groan, 
 And ye sweet innocents your father gone. 
 Oh ! fate enur'd long ere we were conjoin'd, 
 Tliy mis'ries heaps did all appear combin'd. 
 But dy'd in this sweet babe's, your father's look, 
 VVhile yet yc liv'd in endless mercy's book ; 
 While sighs'did break my heart, and parents' course 
 Had long forgot their youth's cohesive force. 
 
 And
 
 OR THE APOLOGY. 57 
 
 And hers to weep ! to scream, and weep again ! 
 While we her innocents did force the pain. 
 And now she's dragg'd from his rehictant tomb, 
 A baby still unborn contains her womb ; 
 Pity great Nature ! pity's sympathy ! 
 Then let thy pity grow in sympathy ; 
 For, now an infant seven months old is born. 
 The mother wretched, and the child forlorn. 
 For nature has no nutriment but grief. 
 And sorrow now is pity's own relief. 
 While anxious care now calls her ckiidren forth, 
 And vain the feeling maids attempt their worth. 
 The mother still will see her childrens' smiles. 
 Concealment's vain, and all their artlcjs wiles. 
 Sad news the handmaid now must bear to her. 
 Dejected anguish, and dejected fear. 
 Her children sick of some peculiar ill, 
 Influenc'd by nature's own coherent will. 
 Thyrse and Melibee, in pity melt, 
 Unconscious me of what the mother felt. 
 Still weep'd for her, and she resolv'd to see 
 Us one by one, and one by one did we, 
 Behold her counterfeiting smiles and thought. 
 Cohesive nature had her features sought. 
 Happy to our sick beds did we return, 
 Some jealous of the newborn baby's turn. 
 
 Some
 
 53 DIONK, MF.LIEEE, AND THYRSE : 
 
 Some forcM by pain to weep, v\hiIesome do smile. 
 Some slumbering lie, and some do talk the while, 
 Some join her dying powers course to see. 
 Pity, domestic pity, Melibee ! 
 Now bleeds, and joins her annual wound with us. 
 Days, weeks, and months, run yearly weeping 
 thus. 
 
 MEt-IEEE. 
 
 Our mellow force will but increase thy woe. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Your friendship social never thus can flow. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 I would I had the whole of thy sad tale. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Oh, Dion ! Melibee would weep us pale. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Ah ! to participate and weep with him. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 VSTiy weep ? I am thrice happy with such kin. 
 
 THY USE. 
 
 Even thy blithest countenance did seem 
 
 To wear this task, and carry something green. 
 
 DIONE.
 
 OR THK APOLOGY. .^9 
 
 BIONE. 
 
 My mother still doth hang her head for him. 
 And weeps her melancholy still unseen. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Bless'd be thy mother, swain ! bless'd her sweet 
 
 babes ! 
 Bless'd her coherent and concordant waves ! 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Bless'd be ye Melibee, and Thyrse dear ! 
 Bless'd be ye happy swains whom J revere ! 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Ah ! ah ! poor Dion ! Dion ! Melibee, 
 Dion ! Dion, in acceptation free. 
 
 DIONE, 
 
 By reason taught afFactions self grew mild. 
 Adversity familiar to her child ; 
 Guide me philosophy in all thy ways, 
 Be mine to keep, retentive still the bays. 
 In force cohesive, and su])erior pain. 
 In joy, or peace, or sorrows adverse fain. 
 
 TH.YRSE. 
 
 Just as thou talk'st so would we have thee mean. 
 For, with these looks familiar hast thou been. 
 
 Intimate,
 
 53 DIONE, MELIBEE, AND THYUSE : 
 
 Inlimate, and social, penetrative too, 
 Our idle lays we may improve from you; 
 May influence, and philosophy thy aid. 
 Partake our songs, in partial truths array 'd. 
 
 melideE. 
 Teach us this secret powers great combine. 
 Unite our friendship, and our lays with thine. 
 
 THYUSE. 
 
 The sun-T)eams hot ! its beams force idle play. 
 We smile, and weep, and pipe, and laugh, the 
 day. 
 
 DlONE. 
 
 Happy 1 thrice happy swains that thus can change 
 Smiles to tears, and pipes to laugh, and range. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 But give us of thy song if'tba to weep. 
 We'll smile, and laugh again before we sleep. 
 
 noNE. 
 I'm happy when I am attending sheep, 
 Philosophy still teach me how to keep. 
 Thyrse and Melibee how to conjoin. 
 Be all their love and all their converse mine. 
 Oh ! had I but, but been employ 'd before, 
 Tending sheep, and shepherds converse o'er, 
 
 More
 
 OR THK APOLOGY. 6l- 
 
 More sound philosophy, or happy bliss ! 
 
 From whom, or what, then, swains exact you 
 
 this ? 
 I can but f^r.y, and all I wish to keep, 
 1 am most happy when attending sheep- 
 Familiar, <^e:itle, soft, pathetic they. 
 Social with nymphs, and swains coherent stray, 
 Midst converse, dance, and vieing pipes they play, 
 Oh! worldly dreams, while ye I woo'd I learnt; 
 Ye parts degen'ratc how to shun I learnt. 
 Your incoherent negligence and dread. 
 Your force expressive, and your wretched bed. 
 Has Nature cast a shade in man alone, 
 All parts and powers to destroy by one ? 
 Wise shade in man, too wise in man I think, 
 Too just in nature's ignorant non-instinct. 
 Oh! pow'rs impulsive ! ever just indeed. 
 To hide in shade that which their influence need. 
 Hence painters learn, by art with thee to play. 
 By thy great light and shades alternate stray. 
 Their glory lives by thy defective smart, 
 And all our knowledge is to act thy part, 
 And lose ourselves in that same influence, 
 Whether by light, or shade, or competence. 
 
 THYRSE.
 
 62 DIONE, MELIBEE, AND THYRSE : 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Thou spcakst as unintelligent would be. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Intricate this, a flowing pow'r free. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 His own propensity and nature's law. 
 
 MKLIBEE. 
 
 And yet we comprehend not that he saw. 
 
 moNE. 
 I would ye well, O Thyrse ! that I would, 
 I would ye were not Melibee thus fool'd. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Thy fooling is a just attentive pow'r. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Proceed, and fool us in thy happy hour. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Why would ye have me thus proceed to say, 
 When idly both attend my oper 
 Hapless I'm fool'd, and sportive 
 
 proceed to say, "^ 
 ;n lay, V 
 
 ve of thy day. \ 
 
 THYRSE.
 
 OR THE APOLOGY, 63 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Thou art creative of our sports Indeed ; 
 
 In joy, or mirth, or grief, or sorrov/s need. 
 
 MELIEEE. 
 
 Think not, O Dion', we deceive thy lay, 
 For we attentive watch thy doubtless way. 
 
 DTONE. 
 
 And ye are ever ready to attend ; 
 
 Then do not flatter, Thyrse, and I'll mend. 
 
 MELinEE. 
 
 Why, Thyrse, intercept his song ? Declare 
 Attention due, or else thyself prepare. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Faith ! sooth ! just youths, I will proceed my lay, 
 \e both direct my far superior way. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Come, give me of your something what you 
 
 please. 
 Your something or your nothing, Melibee's. 
 
 DlONE. 
 
 Thou, Thyrse, saidst thou wouldst attend my 
 
 lay. 
 And thou, O Melibce, unhappy play ? 
 
 MLIB.
 
 4. DIONE, MELISEE, AND THYRSE : 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Why, did he challenge me as nothing worth ? 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 It was a hapless moment sent it forth. 
 
 THYUSE. 
 
 Go on, DIone, thou art ever just. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 He has our loves sincere and true, I trust. 
 Thyrse, thy hand : let friendship keep the spells. 
 And let us watch the flowing sense he tells. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Thy lays attentive we attend, O swain ! 
 Kndeavouring we thy spelling sense to gain. 
 The sun is past its higli meridian now ; 
 Come, let's be seated 'neath this brinky brow. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Come, swains, amuse me with your jovial mirth. 
 And may your songs become the shepherd's 
 
 birth. 
 Let's tune to Jove ! I would a song were play'd ! 
 Light, and our God ! Light our important aid. 
 Effusive Thyrse, ysmpathetic move. 
 Coine, Melibee, let's tune immortal Jove. 
 
 THYRSE.
 
 Oa THE APOLOGT. b5 
 
 TIIYUSE. 
 
 Would'st, Dion', call ine bare non-competent. 
 
 Or 1 abuse thy comprehensive bent ? 
 
 Be more familiar, frank, and open, swain, 
 
 Digressive rules form incoherent pain ; 
 
 Nor place a light where thou should'st place a fir. 
 
 For shepherds' names do not exist by Sir. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Then would ye hav my sweet departure, swains ? 
 I wouid your peace would grow in my sad pains. 
 Kame but my songs, and, if your heart prefers 
 Wheie owls do vie witli frogs, and frogs with firs, 
 I'll give ye, then, the ram fast in the bog, 
 And place, cohesive with the same, thy dog, 
 
 THYRSE* 
 
 Discordant with our tutelary ring, 
 
 iS' ot that. Oh ! swain ; that song we cannot sing. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Au emblem sooth, and comprehensive gain. 
 Familiar all to shepherds and the plain. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Pleasing and lovely to the lowest mind. 
 Instinctive bom of heav'n, but earthly kind. 
 
 V MEiinrt.
 
 6G DIOKE, MF.LIBEE, AND THYRSE : 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Influenc'd by that which taught thee humble 
 
 rhyme. 
 Participating, simple, and sublime. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Led by that influence through the vary'd scene. 
 Of labarynths, and brakes, and briars green. 
 
 nioxE. 
 Sometimes superior essence v.'ould je have. 
 Forbear this part and superficial live ; 
 Sometimes ye would, I keep me to the plain, 
 Here truth is just, for ever here remain : 
 Art vary'd in your simple songs like this, 
 And do they thus cohere with your ref^ucst ? 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 We would thou should'st like this partake thy 
 
 strain, 
 For, easy words force parts coherent gain. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 And would ye then I should go on in this 
 Loquacity, I fear too much amiss ? 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Say, Mellbee, he's diffident withal. 
 
 jMELIBEE.
 
 OR THE APOLOGY. 6? 
 
 MEHBEE. 
 
 I would, Dione, thou did'st fulfil our call. 
 
 DIOXE. 
 
 Oh ! may I learn in truth and time to rise 
 Simple in lays, and innocently wise ; 
 Still reason li^^^s, reason, philosophy, 
 Mcllbee, and Thyrse, nature by. ^ 
 
 And love, and grief, and sorrow, are our course, 
 I,ed and propell'd by a superior force. 
 Sympathy, light, and light, eternal Jove : 
 Jove ! the great god, and donor of our ways. 
 If philosophic, or poetic lays ; 
 If partial, general, or social ties. 
 And nights alternate still proclaim our vies. ] 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Reason with us in more familiar part. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 To swains discordant. Oh ! my well-meant heart. 
 Nor school-taught pride now doth improve my 
 
 lays. 
 Nor pamper'd learning's artificial bays, 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Can'st thou proceed in more familiar sense ? 
 
 r 2 DIONE.
 
 69 DIONX, MELIEEE, AND THYRSE: 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Whence live creative of non-competence ? 
 Say, whence we shepherds timely thus for nought. 
 Taught to shun ignorance by idle thought. 
 And social power by incompetence ? 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Art just Dion' in every word the sense? 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Adherent words grow just in competence. 
 
 TIIYRSE, 
 
 Thine is propensive, and peculiar those. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Nor dare such properties coherent foes ; 
 
 Say, why the day more baneful than the nigfht ? 
 
 Why should design forsake perceptive light ? 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Proceed familiar, competent, and free. 
 Social extended influence to be. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Influence and sympathy still condescend, 
 Then force thy path, for instinct has no end ; 
 
 Still
 
 OR THE APOLOGY. fc'9 
 
 Still let's maintain our elevated strength, 
 And still admire the shepherd's simple length ; 
 I'll learn your songs, nor seek to know my own, 
 We'll have some joy with fate, or chance to 
 
 come ; 
 Each leading ram upon his back shall bear. 
 And tender lambs expose them to the air. 
 Unless instinctive nature finds her gains. 
 They shall be beat, and dasli'd by winds and 
 
 rains : 
 I wrote unconscious of the lines I made, 
 llesolv'd I seek'd, and found the shepherd's 
 
 glade ; 
 Yet influenc'd was, and forc'd by idle time. 
 Sometimes I sang in prose, sometimes in rhyme; 
 I'his still being young, and often sit unseen, 
 To count the ringlet flowr's in vary'd green ; 
 To see them close at eve, unfold at morn, 
 I oft have been accus'd of sloth and scorn ; 
 In nursery dome for passing hours away, 
 I have been kept in indigent array ! 
 Preventing love, and maiden nightly charm, 
 J liv'd unconscious of the just alarm. 
 Fancy allur'd, and I attended her. 
 Nor knew the restless maid's sud anxious care. 
 
 F 3 thyrsi:.
 
 70 DIONE, MELIBEE, AND THYRSE : 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 A beetle, or a butterfly, my herd. 
 
 Or punishment unfeeling to a bird ; 
 
 These I would teaze, and with them sport and 
 
 play. 
 And rob my scholl to force the tender spray. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Twas mine to force the mother's toil at home. 
 To sigh, and weep unconscious toys to come. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 This is growing instinct's vary'd aid. 
 An influence direct, or reason stray'd j 
 When feeling buds, and sense partakes its course, 
 By art directed, or by nature's force : 
 Thou, cruel Thyrse, and in all tby ways 
 'Twas parents' duty to advert thy plays; 
 Melibee sportive in his idle toys. 
 Indulgence great, destructive to us boys; 
 I liv'd oppressive in my homely care. 
 Ready to please, and diffident to share. 
 Two parents bless'd, and happy both in one ; 
 Short time, ten years, creative often young. 
 One yet unborn ; the wretched mother lives. 
 And still deploring, she the husband grieves. 
 
 Who
 
 OR THE APOLOGY. 71 
 
 Wlio now by force inherent lies amort. 
 
 And features of distress here grew distort. 
 
 No more his feehngs now expressive beat. 
 
 Nor knows the wife's sad trembHng kiss so sweet. 
 
 Por hearts like each, and sacred feelings clad, 
 
 It is too tedious, and too long, iind sad. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Thy mournful lay, Dione, we prefer. 
 
 MELIEEE. 
 
 Is't honest truth, relative truth to fear ? 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 It is a care coherent with her now. 
 
 MELIBBE. 
 
 How chanc'd an incoherent pow'r to grow ? 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 'Twas partial incoherency in fate. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 I would'st thou did'st the parts supporting state. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 'Twas sympathy upheld her in her grief. 
 And partial woes supported her relief. 
 
 T i Concordant
 
 72 DIONE, MELIBEE, AND THYRSE : 
 
 Concordant pow'r, her children join'd the strain. 
 They did increase, and still did ease her pain. 
 
 MELIBEE.. 
 
 "Who taught thee human love and hopes annoy I 
 Who taught thee pain in sympathetic joy ? 
 How sought coherent and coeval time ? 
 How learnt coherent and coeval rhyme ? 
 Intricate sense, and force sujieiior fam'd, 
 Clymenes, and bats, and nightly guests you nam'd ? 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Melibee, would'st approach incompetence 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Not that alone, but truth's benevolence. 
 Oh ! honest Thyrse, meek incompetence 
 Cannot approach our sympathetic sense ; 
 For, Dion' trac'd this loving pow'r to Jove,. 
 Simple, and easy, and sublime did move. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Thyrse, I would thou did'st relieve me now. 
 My hours are toilsome, and I weary thou. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Nor Melibee, Dion' lead on the way. 
 
 For thou canst speak of light immense, and day. 
 
 MELIBEE.
 
 OR THE APOLOGY. 73 
 
 M ELI BEE. 
 
 Him first creating form'd it, shepherds, thine, 
 Unconscious reign'd before in ev'ry line. 
 
 DIOXE. 
 
 And that'^s like men who toil, and toil to know 
 Their own existence whence, and how they grow, 
 
 TIIYRSE. 
 
 We will confirm thee in the last, but say. 
 How worldly parts could form such manly clay ; 
 Or say, how smiles and sorrows do cohere. 
 Or negligence forms unsusceptive fear ; 
 Relative of what weep'st, or how thou smil'st. 
 We'll tell thee various shepherds' laws the whilst. 
 
 DIOXE. 
 
 I fear ye will not thank me for the small 
 And bear intelligence I have in all. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Bat teach. Oh ! Dion', truly how to prize, 
 Melibee and Thyrse how to rise. 
 
 DIOXE. 
 
 If ye will Intercept, and join the strife, 
 I will relate to ye my tale of life. 
 
 For
 
 74 DIONE, MELIBEE, AND THYRSE T 
 
 For man, philosophy, and reason meet. 
 
 But still. Oh ! shepherds, let's forsake that sweet 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Then still thou dost prefer the lambkins by. 
 And still with sheep dost thou adhere to vie. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Wilt see rams butt, and drag tli' unruly spa ? 
 Wilt hear the tender lambs and sheep cry ba ? 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Parental sorrows still surround the vale. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 J\nd give thy sympathetic life in tale. 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 Dear parent! Oh! thou dearest parent good, 
 Dear mother ! Oh ! thy weeping was my food ; 
 Unconscious still, we all deplore with thee. 
 And weep thy annual wound in sympathy : 
 For two long years thy love did weep for him. 
 Oppressed by thy cruel parejits' kin. 
 In two long years thou didst attain thy love. 
 Reluctant still thy parents saw him move. 
 But love, oppressive, forc'd their harsh consent. 
 And meagre love, and sighs re])eatcd, bent. 
 
 The
 
 OR THE APOLOGT. / 
 
 The man approach'd, Ok ! Passion love too great! 
 Nor speech was heard, or heart was felt to beat. 
 For seven long days apparent Ufe's retreat. 
 When gentle motion knew thy weary'd starts, 
 Supported by thy handmaids' sadden'd hearts,. 
 The man awaits, and fearing to disclose, 
 He waits instinctive nature to impose. 
 Their cruel parents' harsh consent at last. 
 After six months severe confinement past. 
 His loving words in humble voice convey'd^ 
 Was still too strong for the oppressed maid. 
 Oh ! love excessive ! and destructive good. 
 Living on delicate and partial food ! 
 Oppressed love, thy ill-confined space. 
 To thee is nought but lives immense in chace. 
 Thy sole confinement is creative pow'r, 
 Increasing love in sad oppression's hour ; 
 Here sympathy doth in her cause run mad. 
 Confinement still doth love in armour clad. 
 Existing, and supporting life by fits. 
 Oppressive love ! thy meni'ry still exists ! 
 Now do they both, ah ! now they meet r.gain f 
 She screams ! and both supporting, fall in vain. 
 Oh ! joy excessive, wouldst thou kill such love ? 
 Such killing love descending from above; 
 
 To
 
 76 DIONE, &C. OR THE APOLOGY. 
 
 To melt the stoney hearts of parents' force. 
 Instinctive nature will maintain her course ; 
 Oh ! let me done ! I must deplore indeed. 
 Oh ! sad attempt ! vain, vain attempt in need. 
 
 MELIBEE. 
 
 Nor vain we feel thy space cohesive force, 
 Effectual participating course. 
 It is attractive pow'r in itself, 
 Thy songs are ever mournful in behalf 
 Of sacred mirth, and holy joys to come. 
 We'll seek for Phillis, and our joys at home ; 
 And from the vale we'll lead the rural sport. 
 Up to the hill, and Bacchus shall resort. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 But where is thy apology for this ^ 
 
 DIONE. 
 
 A single repetition is amiss. 
 
 TUYKSE. 
 
 Ah ! then we'll weep, we'll weep and smile thee 
 swain. 
 
 We'll weep and smile, condolement be thy gain. 
 
 PREFACE
 
 ( '1 ) 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO THE 
 
 FOREGOING PASTORAL. 
 
 I HAVE no doubt but I shall be accused, even 
 in my apology, as deviating from pastoral sim- 
 plicity. What is pastoral simplicity ? Is it de- 
 pendant on pastoral poetry ? or is pastoral poetry 
 dependant on that ? or does simple ignorance, and 
 competence, co-operative in power, form origi- 
 nal or occasional pastoral poetry ? Or what is 
 called perfect jjastoral simplicity ? Or should pas- 
 toral verse be made up of coherent ignorance en- 
 tirely, and peculiar pastors, living and dying in 
 bogs and fens ? It may do for those who keep 
 sheep, and fell woods at the present day ; and 
 this is natural ignorance, or incompetence ; yet 
 sufficient in power, social, and familiar. But 
 this does not form natural poetry. For, even the 
 most simple minds, have some idea of Jove, and 
 this simplicity of perception, and susceptibility of 
 
 mind,
 
 78 PREFACE TO THE FOREGOING. 
 
 mind, hath forms and ideas peculiar to its god. 
 And many of these would become exalted, and 
 uniformly natural, if they could write and read: 
 they have ideas, they have instinct, they have in- 
 fluence, and partial or general perceptions, lle- 
 specting things, they have their peculiar powers 
 and properties. They have extensive reason, and 
 many of them considerable philosophy, all fami- 
 liar and peculiar in nature. But she has so in- 
 volved tlicse powers active, and pjjssive, as to 
 render them unconscious, uncontemplative, as 
 being secretly co-operative with her principalities 
 and powers. It is for the general harmony of 
 ])arts, and evidently for an increase of strength, 
 cultivation, and many other principalities, are 
 supported by these peculiar propensities, adherent 
 to her general order. These men are blessed in 
 tiie courts of nature equally as much as the wisest 
 philoso{)lier, and partake of his feelings; and are, 
 in a diminutive philosophy, as happy, and as 
 great, as any that ever lived. Indigent i)arts and 
 powers, are alone hateful to some end, and 
 wretched to their own ; because their propensity 
 is a deviation incoherent with all ignorance, social 
 and general order, simplicity, and nature, tor, 
 the best men are verj- often simple and low born, 
 
 while
 
 PREFACE TO THE FOREGOING. 79 
 
 while tlic worst and most indigent are affluent ; 
 for, there is, universally, a distribution of vice 
 amidst this affluence, dimication, revelry, de- 
 bauchery, irregularity, fear, negligence, incom- 
 petence, hatred, dread, pride, shame, envy, and 
 malevolent principles; and these indigencies are 
 sacred and profane. When the most simple man, 
 and low born shepherd, is pityful, toyful, social, 
 loving, contented in domestic truth, and happy 
 in his labour, his sheep, his oxen, and his chil- 
 dren, and these are coherently uniform with na- 
 ture, and yet they live neglected and unstudied, 
 and often despised by those who are possessed of 
 incompetent affluence, when, on the contrary, 
 they might find immense study, in this little field 
 of physical and social duty, if they would magnify 
 them with the same glasses astronomers do the 
 solar system. For, their ideas are relative to their 
 obscurity ; they never understand the acting prin- 
 ciples of worlds, but they understand what they 
 have heard of different sheep in different nations ; 
 and have thereby a universal perception, and ideas 
 tending to infinitude. 
 
 By this means parts and powers were first 
 sought after, led in idea by natural instinct, com- 
 pelling and actuating matter with matter. 
 
 Investigations
 
 80 PltEFACE TO THI FOREGOING. 
 
 Investigations became more profound Sympa- 
 thy taught nature to seek her God in coherent 
 truth. Thus arose deity and subhme ; and this 
 ])eculiar power was adherent to shepherds ; this 
 is vindicated in Abrahain : it was by Instinct and 
 influence he put his gods away ; and Moses, who 
 was versed in all the learning of the Ancient 
 Kgyptians, the first school of arts and sciences, 
 was a low born shepherd, meek and humble, te- 
 nacious of that influence which Abraham em- 
 braced by nature, till his conscience became vin- 
 dicated in its God. And shepherds appear to 
 have been cohesive, even with the birth of Christ ; 
 hence the influence of sympathy, deity, and sub- 
 lime, Is peculiar to all parts and powers, and 
 adherent to the most simple ideas and percep- 
 tions. Greece, Ittlly, Sicily, Cyprus, Rhodes, 
 Persia, and Egypt, with many other parts, fur- 
 nish us with instances peculiar to simple minds of 
 this kind. We sometimes liear of kings forsaking: 
 their thrones to -enjoy rural simplicity ; and 
 again, we hear of those who enjoy this simple 
 life, l)eing taken from it and placed on thrones. 
 This David had w'itnessed himself, and has ac- 
 knowledged it in one of his psalms : " Lord, 
 tliou lakest down one, and putteth up another!" 
 
 But
 
 PREFACE TO THE FOREGOING. 81 
 
 But these shepherds were good men, like Nestor, 
 Moses, and Abraham ; for, in these countries, shep- 
 herds were often their greatest, most inteUigent, 
 and most noble, men; simple, yet competent; 
 simple and sublime ! Their princes have taught 
 the plough, and tiieir kings have happily conde- 
 scended to tend their flocks ! This is beautiful, 
 noble, and sublime, in man indeed ! These were 
 not partially indigent, but these lived in order, 
 light, and love ; the princes and regular lords in 
 nature, and were consulted for truth like the an- 
 cient oracle of Apollo. But poetry and historj' 
 do not afford us many instances of this sublime 
 and beautiful relation. These people were com- 
 petent ; and, if these people had composed poetry, 
 it would have been burnished with a more perspi- 
 cuous imagination ; as we see by David's poems, 
 Moses's poems, Isaiah's poems ; and as wc should 
 have seen by Abraham's poems, had they been 
 handed dov/n to us ; with m.any others : and thus 
 the simple imaginary power of shepherds must 
 gradually have become more perspicuous and com- 
 prehensive ; adding sublimity to simplicity, and 
 philo5op>.y to profundity ; for, the more familiar 
 we grow with gods and goddesses, Pans and 
 satyrs, sublimities and profundities, the more 
 c beautiful
 
 82 PREFACE TO THE FOREGOING. 
 
 beautiful does this inteispersion co-operate and 
 assist simplicity ; and it is difficult to support and 
 perform without this elevated power : and I far- 
 ther believe it to be almost impossible Avhen once 
 these parts and powers have been rendered cohe- 
 sively familiar ; for, to maintain attention and 
 support pastoral poetry, the language must be 
 more or less elevated than that of low-born shep- 
 herds, who are not ignorant non-instincts, but 
 ignorantly instinctive. Language must have ex- 
 pression and action to co-operate with our feel- 
 ings, and to elevate our ickas in perfect percep- 
 tion. Improved language may be simple and 
 pure, and should be studied in the English, artifi- 
 cially ; for, it is good language that gives us 
 more noble and clear percej>t:ons, and elevates 
 our ideas beyond the reach of simply idle, low- 
 born, words, and is the only distinguishing cha- 
 racteristic between man and man, degenerative 
 to quadrupeds. But artifice in nature can never 
 exist in simple or social poetry. Her own line is 
 dictative of her own bounds, being competent to 
 her indigencies and perfections. Alan alone ap- 
 pears familiar with the former ; hence his parts 
 often lie like a mass of brimstone unapproached by 
 
 light.
 
 PULFACE TO TH FOREGOING. 83 
 
 llffht, bein'j touched, flies like lishtningc, and 
 is gone : 
 
 For, as the night's subHme outshines the day, 
 This sense coherent marks the shepherd's way. 
 
 Simple natural knowledge is superficial without 
 its properties of attraction and jx)wer of expres- 
 sion ; as we see in these lines ; 
 
 Co, Ciam, and see the sheep put in the fold, 
 The wind blows very hard, and it is cold. 
 
 These lines are natural, simple, and pleasing, but 
 they are not beautiful and engaging ; they are pa- 
 thetic, but they are not moving. Why ? Because 
 the language is inadequate, and the attractive ex- 
 pression, and action, perspicuity and strength, arc 
 inert; owing to simplicity of expression alone. 
 They are unaffected, and hence they arc peculiar- 
 Iv attractive ; but barely exciting, but unafiect- 
 iug amidst this uniformity of cohesion and exces- 
 sive simplicity : when the same sense, given in 
 adequate language, may be sim])le, beautiful, and 
 sublime, 'engaging, pleasing, and pathetic, 
 unattected, anil universally affecting, attractive, 
 cornpctcnr, and uniform. 
 
 2 Go,
 
 ITi PRrFACE TO THE rOREGOING. 
 
 Go, see the lambkins and the sheep are penn'd, 
 Their tender fleece cannot the wind defend. 
 
 Negligence, incompetence, and idleness, ap- 
 pear to have been given shepherds, as n:\tural 
 propensities, by art, to preserve their ij!;norance, 
 and what is called pastoral simplicity. Shepherds 
 of the present day are ignorant, we know, of 
 the solar system ; and so are the phllosc^phers of all 
 ages of light beyond conception. Reason and 
 natural propensity, instinct and influence, phi- 
 losophy and poetry, have been and still continue 
 the same in principles, proportionate and uni- 
 lorm ; some being maintained by simplicity and 
 innocence, and some by an elaborate strength ; 
 some by indigence, and some obscure these by 
 negligence and intemperance. If we could re- 
 verse these partial operations in the human system 
 for a time, I believe we should have more sound 
 philosophy ; as we see by Dione in his apology ; 
 the whole course of it being philosophically negli- 
 gent. But, wishing to accompany the reader, 
 he weeps occasionally ; but then his song is a 
 varied apology ; and, moreover, as he v>'ould not 
 interpret what he knew in supposition, seeming, 
 or conception ; for, being happy in his philoso-
 
 PREFACE TO THE FOREGOING. 85 
 
 phy, he appears as he would forget toils and cares 
 as by instinct, and natural propensity lo happi- 
 ness. But occasionally he is found losing himself 
 in the powers of retention, merely to apologize 
 again. And the anxiety of Thyrse and Melibee 
 to know would extend to immensity if possible. 
 
 c S TITYRO
 
 { 86 ) 
 
 TITYRO AND PHILLIS. 
 
 PHILLIS. 
 
 Thou art, swain, so fickle in love, 
 
 Inconstant to rural resorts, 
 Hence I my affection do move 
 
 Far from thee and all rural sports. 
 
 TITYRO. 
 
 Thou Philly, my confidence, Oh ! 
 
 Why disappoint thus a poor-swain r 
 Say, and I'll more diligent woo ; 
 
 But promise with me to remain. 
 
 PHILLIS. 
 
 Did not I see, Tityro, thou. 
 
 And at the Palilian game. 
 With each nymph there couple and vow 
 
 (As now to me) you will remain. 
 
 TITYRO. 
 
 Yes, truly, so false I have been ; 
 
 And, while my imprudence I name. 
 Thou art she alone in esteem, 
 
 Thy excellence all I do claim.
 
 TITYRO AND PHII.LIS, 87 
 
 PHILLIS. 
 
 ByHippomene thus you did seem. 
 
 Ere now vow'd by her murm'ring head ; 
 
 As now I have innocent been, 
 
 While a heart Hke a Daphne's you've had. 
 
 TITYRO. 
 
 Each Melian nyraph of the Morn, 
 
 Each satyr that walks by the eve. 
 Each lad that to piping is born. 
 
 Attest the love I for you have. 
 
 PHILLIS. 
 
 Amrnta knows how 1 would weep 
 
 At morn and reclining of day ; 
 How vain my attempt for to sleep, 
 
 How dejected at night I would lay. 
 
 TITYRO. 
 
 Arcadia list my complaint, 
 
 Delusive my mind shall not be ; 
 From my father proceeds the restraint, 
 
 Retentive contending with me. 
 
 PHILLIS. 
 
 Fond youths, like Tityro, deceiving, 
 Their beauties sufficient to charm : 
 
 G 4 Or
 
 88 TTTYRO AND PHILLI5. 
 
 Or exile poor nymphs yet believing 
 Duplicity's ill-fated charm. 
 
 TITYRO. 
 
 By sylvans and satyrs, I vow 
 
 No Tans nor no sylvans shall please ; 
 
 Till Phoebus illumine thy brow, 
 Till Phoebus bestows on me ease. 
 
 PHILMS. 
 
 Inscratitude often before 
 
 Responsive its love hath declar'd ; 
 These lays but renew my dolore, 
 
 Tliose tales which so often I fear'd. 
 
 TITYRO. 
 
 Then, must I the flocks bid adieu r 
 
 Phillis' love and her friendship sincere ; 
 
 Nor once more my fortune renew. 
 In happiness her to revere ? 
 
 PHILMS. 
 
 Thy flocks like me thou hast forsook. 
 Thy ewes twice a day I liuve milk'd ; 
 
 Sill ungrateful on me thou dost look, 
 But henceforth thine no more I'll milk. 
 
 TITYRO.
 
 TITYRO AND PHII.LIS. 89 
 
 TITYRO. 
 
 Then be it mine to weep, now be mine 
 
 Each unjocund lay for to scan ; 
 With sadness my lute to entwine. 
 
 Oh ! Love, thou seducer of man ! 
 
 PHILLIS. 
 
 \ 
 
 Not love, chid thy error, false youth ; 
 
 Benevolence thou dost abuse, 
 Diligence, love, and sweet Truth ; 
 Duplicity's shades thou dost choose. 
 
 TITYRO.' 
 
 Then Tityro's Misery's boy. 
 
 Mirth withholds her rapturous arm ; 
 
 Now folly and deep fear annoy. 
 And anger's unsocial alarm. 
 
 PHILLIS. 
 
 Lo, yonder thy ewes, see how faint ! 
 
 Lo, yonder thy little lambs see ! 
 Thou unfaithful, what is't you would paint ? 
 
 Thy cunning, Tityro, I see. 
 
 TITYUO. 
 
 Thy judgement, I would it were fit 
 As elegance is for thy face ; 
 
 Then
 
 90 TITVRO AND PHILLIS. 
 
 Then justice unbiass'd would sit, 
 
 Nor mark sincere love with disgrace. 
 
 PHILLIS. 
 
 Hence ! hence ! unobservant false swain ! 
 
 Co, drive thy poor ewes to the streams; 
 Lo 1 yonder thy lambs are in pain. 
 
 Exposed to Phcebus' hot beanas. 
 
 TJTYRO. 
 
 In sympathy I behold them, 
 
 By the feeling of nature deplore ; 
 And by that instinct I'll cool them ; 
 
 But shall I find flivour the more ? 
 
 PHILLIS. 
 
 Such influence, hence, swain, adieu ! 
 
 I'll leave thee, thy flocks, aiul milch kine ; 
 Unfeeling and cruel are you. 
 
 Nor love but hate dost thou combine. 
 
 TITVRO. 
 
 For Phoebus, ye lambs no more lie, 
 
 For Tityro all now imbrue ; 
 From the flocks, swains, and nymphs, now I fly, 
 
 Nor Phillis her love will renew. 
 
 PHILLTS.
 
 TITYEO AND PHILLIS. 51 
 
 PHILLIS. 
 
 And then. Oh ! then must I deplore ; 
 
 Think you by the fates I am bound, 
 For ever to weep you no more, 
 
 Nor let the reed vocal resound ? 
 
 TITYRO. 
 
 Ye enemies, vices to love ! 
 
 Tis vanity, jealousy, those ; 
 These thou charming Fancy must move. 
 
 Or rural sharps henceforth repose. 
 
 PHII.LIS. 
 
 No, gentle Tityro, attend ; 
 
 Let rural improvements increase ; 
 Let harmony wait her command. 
 
 For ever let discordance cease. 
 
 TITYRO. 
 
 Now diligence shall be my care 
 
 All Phillis' obligements to pay ; 
 \^'ho's nature is modesty fair. 
 
 Love's allurements, and beauty's array. 
 
 PHILLIS. 
 
 Then let love and beauty be one, 
 Felicity charms my swain's breast; 
 
 For,
 
 92 TITYRO AND PHILLIS. 
 
 Fof, thine I will be now alone, 
 
 Henceforth with each gratitude rest, 
 
 TITYRO. 
 
 My flocks, my delight shall be thee. 
 
 Reflective at home or afar ; 
 With love I'll live, beauty and thee. 
 
 Till Pan fail, and PhcEbus' bright car. 
 
 MiERIS
 
 { 93 ) 
 MyERIS AND POLLIO: 
 
 OCCURRENCE. 
 
 Scene, Morning. Mceris and Poll io discovered.' 
 ATaeris, having overheard the Lamentation of 
 Pastora for her Palemon, relates the occurrence 
 to his friend, who has been prematurely ac- 
 quainted with her excessive affection, by dis- 
 covering a knowledge of the same in her 
 own words. 
 
 r.I.'ERIS. 
 
 11 J.OW happy, Polho, we do meet at morn I 
 How is't that some are happy, some forlorn ? 
 How is't I heard Pastora o'er and o'er, 
 Repeat again, " Palemon I adore I" 
 
 Then
 
 94 M.CRIS AND rOLLIO : OR 
 
 Then wip'd her eves, then sit her down as^ain ; 
 Then pUick'd a daisy, weeping then again. 
 Ami seem'd so anxious for Paleinon's name, 
 Tliat she wrote ten times twenty o'er the same. 
 Then each compar'd, still diffident to tear, 
 Still undivided which of them to 'wear. 
 At last, upon her soft and tender breast. 
 That name so sweet she did suspend to rest. 
 All those remaining novv she view'd the more, 
 I pon each piece she put the word deplore; 
 Then scratch'd it out because it was not fit 
 \V ith a name so much belov'd to sit. 
 And now she pil'd them on the daisies gay, 
 And wrote upon t'.iem all the word a-icay. 
 Till this time, Poliio, T could not believe. 
 That love had so much influence to deceive. 
 
 POLLIO. 
 
 Nor, Maeris, knovv'st thou what it is to love ? 
 
 In ev'rj- shape it dlff'rently doth move ; 
 
 It smiles, it weeps, it sings, and now deplores ; 
 
 Now seems as it would hate, and now adores. 
 
 NVhat thou hast said of love I now believe, 
 
 ' Fwas t'other morn I saw the maid thus grieve. 
 
 When Aurora, blushing, rcar'd her golden head, 
 
 The lark forsook its nightly bed and fled, 
 
 Then
 
 THE OCCURRENCE.' 95 
 
 Then lost Pastora from her cot was bound, 
 Delightsome home, with shrubs a blooming round; 
 , A verdant lustre covered the earth, 
 And op'ning odours sent their moistures forth. 
 ^ et nought availed balms delicious spread. 
 For, Albion's nrurmurs were to Pastora dead ; 
 And wholesome airs diffusing sadder woes, 
 Deep care and dark assuetude mine those. 
 She said, " O youth ! I would thou wert in- 
 ch n'd 
 Anxiously as me to be combin'd. 
 Dull woes I chaunt, and doubtful shapes awake. 
 Still with the gayest nymphs I must partake. 
 Weary and sad, depressed, poor, and low ; 
 Sicilian nvmphs did never know such woe. 
 But why should I their happiness alarm. 
 And weep Palemon where he does not charm. 
 I'll hence ! Alone with Arethuse I'll trow ; 
 ril hence, and ask her what of him she know. 
 Xor beauteous no more can nature teem, 
 ^^ hen deep-veil'd night and glooms are flown 
 
 serene ; 
 While Palemon unconscious meets the morn, 
 \\ hile sad reflection all mv jovs adorn. 
 Despair, \inbencficcnce, and pain, 
 \^ hile hours unintelligent remain !" 
 
 Thus
 
 9S MJECIS AND POLLIO : OR 
 
 Thus said, she did Invoke the 2;ods above 
 
 To teach Palemon what it is to love. 
 
 Here left I ; but, returnirrj; soon, was seen 
 
 The maid deploring low upon the qreen. 
 
 I stopp'd, because I did suppose her here, 
 
 W^ary'd by love's malady and Tear. 
 
 She'd -vvander'd from the place where first I 
 
 saw. 
 Her eyes and busy'd idle dreams which have no 
 
 law. 
 By love's enchantinfj and increasing pain, 
 Had so by fancy led her through their train, 
 That she was woary'd, and she fell to sleep. 
 Having cre]-)t softly to the po])lar steep. 
 There pray'd for night's profundity to reign ; 
 For, in her hand 1 found this little strain. 
 Which told the tale to rne I so well knew ; 
 But I anon saw Palemon and flew ; 
 Still kept the words, and have thcra by mc 
 
 now ; 
 By these you'll see what 'tis to love, and how. 
 
 Why thus, ye Gods, let Palemon , ' 
 
 Thus rob me of my rest ? 
 Ye Gods, let me see him and soon. 
 
 The youth I do love best. 
 
 For
 
 TE OCCURHENCB. 97 
 
 For him I've toil'd myself to sleep. 
 
 At least I weary be ; 
 And, when I rise up from the steep, 
 
 May I my lover see. 
 
 Thou Venus, let me sleep in peace ; 
 
 Thou Cupid teaze my love : 
 Love", in me let thy tempest cease, 
 
 I prav, ve gods above. 
 
 TJut now secure, I saw the youth approach ; 
 As she'd dcsciib'd, his lineaments were such. 
 Her he approach'd, her he did now adore. 
 And he with various buds a present bore. 
 By flow'rs he a wonder neat had made. 
 In erudition wrought tl>e graceful maid. 
 He now came near, now stole a gentle kiss : 
 Agreeable divinity was this ! 
 The maid awoke : her tender feelings now 
 Presented thus. And, with an humble hovr. 
 Her extasy and his for thee I leave, 
 if it be possible such to conceive. 
 
 UJtKlS. 
 
 Pollio, let's no more of this song now. 
 
 As Phoebus cheers the misty mountain's brow. 
 
 K POLLIO.
 
 g8 MXRIS AND POLMO. 
 
 rOLLIO. 
 
 At noon ril see thee, to the vale resort ; 
 
 At noon I'll sec thee when the flocks do sport. 
 
 M^RIS. 
 
 Siin-beams then fierce, and make the valley swct. 
 
 POI.LIO. 
 
 As fire to winter, vales to summer beat. 
 
 MOPSY,
 
 { 99 ) 
 
 MOPSY, DAMON, THYRSE, 
 ALPHESIBEE, and ELIZA; 
 
 OR THE 
 
 CONTENTION. 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 JLHEN let each man his numbers now begin : 
 Alpheslbee and Thyrse strive to win. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 His be Eliza whose lay she likes best. 
 Remember, Damon, and take you the rest. 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 Thus ends your taunts, Alphesibee, this task. 
 Tliyrse, thy lay, or Alphesibee's I ask. 
 
 ELIZA. 
 
 Begin, Alphesibee, at Damon's voice ; 
 
 Him follow Damon, Thyrse Damon's choice. 
 
 h2 I,
 
 10 THE CONTENTION. 
 
 J, poor Elira ! lost 'twixt death and life, 
 Will tend, O youths ! your sweet and humble 
 strife, 
 
 ^ ALPHESIBEE. 
 
 I for Eliza will bear Phoebus' heat. 
 For her I'll toil to get abundant sweet, 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 iEgon I'll front, and I'll oppose the seas, 
 Ravenous wolves, Thyrses, Alphesibees. 
 
 THYllSE. 
 
 I'll attend Eliza, and I'll keej) her sheep ; 
 
 For her moi'n, noon, and eve, shall Thyrsc weep, 
 
 ALPHESIBEE. 
 
 For her, Pomona's choice I'll bring the while. 
 And so until she deigns a single smile. 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 I'll pipe exultive, distending ev'ry vein ; 
 For her, to Phoebus I will raise my strain. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 The crook select that Cepheus gave to me. 
 Charming Eliza, shall revolve on thee. 
 
 ALPHESIBEE.
 
 THE CONTENTION. 161 
 
 ALPHESIBEE. 
 
 Feed goats for her, for her Amynta sing, 
 Ye nine, returning Phoebus with the spring. 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 For her rise Vesper ; Venus, bring thy sweet j 
 Nymphs, swains, Pan, Pales, at her sight rt* 
 treat. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Trefoils bow ; Arcadians, cease to vie ! 
 Eliia's near ! Thou Arethuse, too, dig* 
 
 ALPHESIBEE. 
 
 Gaze, all ye flocks, and tender shrubs reply ; 
 Ye laurels droop ! Eliza's coming by ! 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 Menalca sighs, and Tityro despairs. 
 
 Give Lycld's, Daphne, Maeris, each new airs. 
 
 THYllSE. 
 
 Paleme, Dasmet, Melibee, dance around ; 
 Thou Pallas, and ye fountains, her resound. 
 
 ALPHESIBEE. 
 
 Let every heart with sweet Eliza burn ; 
 Let every nymph and youth repeat altern. 
 
 H 3 DAMON.
 
 1Q2 THB CONTENTION. 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 Rest, crimson dies, around ber beauteous check. 
 And tell wliat fair Eliza fain would speak. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Rushes in harmony, myrtles in perfume. 
 Emitting fair Eliza's name, resume. 
 
 ALPHESIBEE. 
 
 For her, charm Arion ; Daphne, bring thy lays; 
 Raise honours due; and her. Oh! Orpheus, 
 praise. 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 For her, boys vie in rustic airs to beat ; 
 \ e Nine, responsive echoing songs repeat. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Let Amarilla and Mopsy her attend; 
 
 Let Uamons, Daphnes, and new Thyrses, bend. 
 
 ALPHESIBEE. 
 
 For her, ye gems and summer lilooms entwine : 
 For her. Love, Phillis, Phoebus, and the Nine. 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 Murmur chrj'stal from the Alphean stream, 
 Let Lucifer and Hesper own their queen ! 
 
 THvnsE.
 
 THE CONTENTION. ^03 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 When I cease praising, folly say no more. 
 That wisdom's self no longer may deplore. 
 
 ALPHESIBEE. 
 
 ^^ hen I neglect let swains foresee their mien ; 
 Let fools all cease to hie them to the stream. 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 Cease bats to vie with owls, swains with songs. 
 When I stand, by and see Eliza's wrongs. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Cease pines to vie with poplars, hates with loves, 
 When I ButjThyrse, now admire, Eliia move^ 
 
 , ' r 
 ALPHESIBEE. 
 
 Ye valleys spread, Vallonia's fruits I claim. 
 The mildest carpet let her feet sustain. 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 Let Phils and Floras beat paths on their knees, 
 May Damons, Thyrses, and Alphesibees. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Her give Apollo all thy laurels due, 
 Ye gods, Eliza, sing her name renew. 
 
 H 4 ALPHESIBSE.
 
 104 THE CONTENTIOK. 
 
 ALPHESTBEE* 
 
 Her Pollio raise, and in immortal rhyme. 
 Her strife be this, sweet Poljrantlius thine, 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 For her bleed heroes ! Boetia's mountain fall, 
 "^nd valleys rise obedient to her call. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 For, she it is alone governs the teat. 
 
 For her graM flocks, wave odours all your sweet; 
 
 ALPHESIBEE. 
 
 For her bleed lambs, for her new altars rise, 
 f^ew incense waving to the sacrifice. 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 For her bleed Damon, all thy blood imbrue ; 
 All this will I, Eliia fair, for you. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Toil, Thyrse, toil, till life no more can cheer. 
 Till all thy love and vitals disappear. 
 
 ELIZA. 
 
 Cease noble strife, ye swains, some other day 
 I will determine eacli responsive lay* 
 
 DAMON.
 
 THE CONTENTION. lOS 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 Ueclde It now, Oh ! sweet Eliza, tell 
 
 Which best doth please, which swain of us excel. 
 
 ALPUESIEEE. 
 
 Eliza said, the pipe and reed should end 
 
 That youth her love whose lay she did comnrtcnd. 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Eliza called us here remote to see, 
 If Damon, Thyrse, or Alphesibe*. 
 
 ELIZA. 
 
 Oh ! noble youths, your lays have equal due. 
 My love as equal poising tends to you ; 
 As wc did meet,. Oh ! swains, let us depart, 
 Each one, as heretofore, shall share my heart ; 
 Shall pipe with Amarilla and with me, 
 A morn and noontide innocent shall be. 
 Eliia sjjeaks, nor ask no more, Oh, swains ! 
 Unless your blessings you would turn to pains. 
 
 MOPSY. 
 
 I, Alopsy, jX)or appropriated dame, 
 
 Must break this silence if it breaks my shame ; 
 
 Attempt once more, sweet youths, attempt ye 
 
 Nine, 
 To tell on which Eliza's hope shall shine. 
 
 DAMON.
 
 106 THE CONTENTIOH. 
 
 DAMON. 
 
 I to Eliza bend. Ah ! make request, 
 Oh ! wi etched I, to be Eliza bless'd ! 
 
 THYRSE. 
 
 Poor Thyrse, he no more Eliza fails ! 
 Nor sov'rcign balm, or love itself avails. 
 
 ALFHEMBEE. 
 
 Eliza thus selected us to see, 
 
 If Damon, l^hyrse, or Alphesibee ; 
 
 Thou diffident, Eliza, I implore, 
 
 Speak ! speak ! or I Alphcsibce's no more. 
 
 ELIZA. 
 
 Oil! wretched state. Oh! state of woe indeed, 
 To choose a lover while my heart doth bleed. 
 But Damon, him 1 loved from my youth, 
 Swain Damon, his I must commend in truth: 
 And yet I thee esteem. Oh ! Thyrse, dear; 
 And thou, Alphesibee, thy lays revere ! 
 
 THE
 
 ( 107 ) 
 
 THE 
 
 ANCHORITE and VITULA 
 
 OR 
 
 MIRTH AND SOLITUDE. 
 
 THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 Vitula, rumiiKitincr, meets the Anchorite, who 
 reflectively accosts her, and therewith attempts 
 to shew the emptiness of mirth, and the un- 
 solid basis of the Vitulian realm ; at which the 
 exasperated goddess unveils her predominant 
 passion, and in the utmost vehemence, yet 
 plausible accusations, she detects him with 
 many unquestionable faults, and destructive in- 
 ducements.- He again attempts to shew her 
 short duration, when Vitula once more renews 
 her po'gnancy ; till at last, satiated with re- 
 venue.
 
 l08 THE ANCHoniTE 
 
 venge, she remembers the universal hne, and 
 feeUng, as evidently seeming, conscious of its 
 highly beneficial and powerful effects, hence- 
 forth ceases, and in becoming admiration be- 
 holds the Anchorite, who now began humbly 
 to invoke his scattered beauties. She, awed 
 awhile, forgets her state ; after which, the her- 
 mit returns to his cell, and Vitula, now with 
 her train, unreflective, profusely seeks new 
 pleasures as before. 
 
 The anchorite and VITULA. 
 
 J^S gay Vitula one day 
 
 Was sporting with her train. 
 An humble hermit did essay 
 
 To tell her sports were vain. 
 
 Smiling said, Oh ! teazing foible, 
 
 Promising so much. 
 Yet, Oh ! empty mirth, how little 
 
 Thy gifts men find them such ! 
 
 Next he to Vitula did turn. 
 
 And, with a hermit awe. 
 Did ease his breast, which then did burn 
 
 With what he wildly saw. 
 
 Accosting,
 
 AND VITULA. 109 
 
 Accosting, said, terrestrial born, 
 
 For whom was made content. 
 List ye, who turn and look with scorn 
 
 On its calm tenement. 
 
 Nor know ye how to choose the good. 
 
 Or to refuse the bad ; 
 Some woo the solitary wood. 
 
 And some the part that's mad. 
 
 Where there is nought but prating lies, 
 
 x\nd crrowins sick at ni^ht. 
 When such transcendant phantoms rise. 
 
 As wake the dimmest sight. 
 
 List, ye suitors, as inconstant. 
 
 Like the fickle moon ; 
 Pleasures of a faithless instant, 
 
 Changing, and dying soon. 
 
 Ye affluent, I would ye were 
 
 As happy as I am. 
 And not so often let vonr vougues 
 
 Abound in more than man. 
 
 Here contemplate I nights in peace. 
 The days, too, pass in love. 
 
 Let.
 
 110 THE ANCHORITE 
 
 Let Vesper, or Aurfrra cease, 
 I ne'er cease praising Jove. 
 
 Paternal Father of this globe, 
 
 lie sending fancy mild, 
 Here, here rests its unconquer'd robe, 
 
 ]^n ! wrapt around the child ! 
 
 Will ye partake this calm retreat. 
 
 This quiet seat with me ? 
 If not, 1 i)ray thee homeward beat. 
 
 Contented will I be. 
 
 And leave me to my quiet cell. 
 
 Where I've repos'd for years, 
 And by a reverential awe 
 
 Hide safe from human cares. 
 
 Go, Folly's sister, learn to paint, 
 
 And play with vanity. 
 Go, tell her solitude's complaint 
 
 Is not credulity. 
 
 ^Vhy shun these shades, Oh ! suppliant hue. 
 
 Where contemplation is, 
 F.merging from the lofty blue 
 
 Of high Olympius,'' 
 
 Sequester'J
 
 AND VITULA. Ill 
 
 Sequester'd here from billows' roar. 
 
 Men feel a silent charm, 
 Adoring heights, triumphant soar. 
 
 Quite free from all alarm. 
 
 How oft the pensive mind dotli steal, 
 
 And tranquil onv.ard beat ; 
 ^^ hile heav'nly shapes themselves reveal. 
 
 And mirth repugnant meet. 
 
 Ilons'd Nature, Wisdom's architect. 
 
 Doth humbly deign delight. 
 While Coryd' with Alexy set, 
 
 Doth frive a new delitrht ! 
 
 Alas ! but when, alas ! I view 
 
 Tiicse scenes all o'er and oer, 
 I weep, that like the morning dew. 
 
 These scenes will be no more. 
 
 Plaintive and sad thy woes rehearse, 
 And cause thy nymphs to weep ; ^ 
 
 Ere long thy vociferous verse 
 Un vocally shall sleep. 
 
 But, hail divine philosophy ! 
 Hail smoothest beam of light ! 
 
 Witt
 
 112: THE ANCHORITE 
 
 With whom I Hve ; and, when I die. 
 Lives thy eternal light. 
 
 With me the chaste, the fond, demure. 
 Live tranquil from the world ; 
 
 Truth and radiant virtue pure. 
 By them my cot is rul'd. 
 
 W ill ye not list to cherubs good ? 
 
 Will mirth not list their tale ? 
 \\ ho love to paint the lonely wood, 
 
 The blossom in the vale. 
 
 Ah ! vMi ! but little here below. 
 Ye Nine, nor that right well. 
 
 Ye Nine, but little here bestow, 
 Or we but wrongly spell. 
 
 Yet mirth and solitude shall turn ; 
 
 But, what a task to tell ! 
 How hard, how purify'd to learn, 
 
 As light o'er dark excel. 
 
 Vitula, leave all revelry, 
 
 All dimication mad. 
 And hermit vault the azure sky. 
 
 Know solitude's not sad.
 
 AND VITULA. 113 
 
 It is a pleasing god of dreams. 
 
 It lovely truth imparts ; 
 With shapes uiinumber'd ever beams. 
 
 Strange to obdurate hearts. 
 
 It has responsive airs to cheer. 
 
 And solemn charms to please ; 
 A lute, a pipe, a reed, is here 
 
 To soothe the ev'ning breeze. 
 
 Mine Aracynthus, or the dale, 
 
 Hesperia's lays are mine. 
 Nowr tell, O Vitula ! thy tale; 
 
 Say, if these shall be thine. 
 
 Or hence ! nor break my silent air, 
 
 Vile degenerate crowd ; 
 Wake ! neither cause no quiet sphere. 
 
 Their course to chime aloud. 
 
 Yet look to envious time, O men ! 
 
 Say now where's Milton's dross? 
 Say now, where's inspiration's pen, 
 
 Or where the mortal loss ? 
 
 The gain is nought, the loss is less, 
 *Tis at this day the same ; 
 I 
 
 All
 
 114 THj: AKCHOaiTK 
 
 All that we seek is bapplness. 
 And that but empty fame. 
 
 Jove wills it so, time yet must be. 
 
 And still it bids prepare : 
 He faithful takes Euphrosync, 
 
 And beauty, bids beware. 
 
 Our brightest days soon glide away, 
 Unravelling our schemes ; 
 
 We quickly meet another day, 
 And dark night wraps our pains. 
 
 Mirth, inglorious, think on time. 
 Ere angry death's bold mien 
 
 Doth waft us to another clime. 
 Tranquillity serene. 
 
 Thus ended, Vitula did speak, 
 Nor longer deigii'd to hear. 
 
 In madness did upbraid the meek. 
 And scorn'd his vile career. 
 
 \ i\\n presumption ! vain abode ! 
 
 Bane of human nature ! 
 We will not taste thy weighty load. 
 
 Consummate strange wild creature ! 
 
 Ti?
 
 AND VITL'LA. 115 
 
 'Tis wretched solitude dwells here. 
 
 Quick will I flee av/ay ; 
 For, here doth dwell a debt too dear 
 
 For V^itula to pay. 
 
 Xext, turning to her various shapes. 
 
 She bid them tune their lyres, 
 While sheM steal on the hermit's shades. 
 
 To fill his breast with fears. 
 
 Thus saying, hermit, did she call. 
 
 Why boast thy servitude ? 
 We cannot court thy shades at all. 
 
 Nor will we woo thy brood. 
 
 Vain, alas ! thou Stygian see, 
 
 And born of dark midnight; 
 What peace the gods they gave to thee, 
 
 That peace hence from our sight ! 
 
 Sure none can dwell in caverns dark, 
 
 Nought but eternal jrloom : 
 To thee unsocial is the lark. 
 
 Each animated boon. 
 
 Nor angel forms will ever seek 
 ternal Ebon shades. 
 
 I 2 Oh !
 
 116 THE ANCHORIT* 
 
 Oh ! Solitude, why thus bespeak 
 On earth a renegade. 
 
 Let reason, reason take repose, 
 
 Inspire each facuhy ; 
 How think you good can betide those 
 
 Who break society ? 
 
 A falsely penitent forlorn. 
 
 Humanity, where's thine ? 
 *Tis here, alas ! so wretched bom. 
 
 True virtue will not join. 
 
 Remember what to others you 
 
 Indebted are by fate ; 
 That good, which you to others owe. 
 
 Pay, ere it be too late. 
 
 Man's born to meet toil and deep care, 
 
 Likewise bold fortune's frown ; 
 We learn to joy, and vile despair 
 
 Likewise them all to drown. 
 
 Nor solely woo the dismal cave, 
 
 But mirth and peace announce : 
 You essential beings leave 
 
 And social joys renounce. 
 
 Unjust,
 
 AND VITULA. 117 
 
 Unjust, alas ! the life thou lead'st. 
 
 Oh ! Anchorite, of woe ! 
 Domestic virtue is the best, 
 
 Nor vile as you bestow. 
 
 How, how, alas ! doth Jove 3'et brook 
 
 When men for ever swerve ? 
 All happiness we overlook, 
 
 'Tis little we deserve. 
 
 Earth's paragon, turbulent still. 
 
 Still wildly goes astray : 
 Ye gods ! ye gods ! yet why so ill 
 
 Doth perseverance sway ? 
 
 Come, bid avaunt Erebus' mist. 
 
 Let rising sadness 'lone ; 
 "The course of nature you resist. 
 
 To languish and bemoan. 
 
 Turn sister, solitary mole, 
 
 Sequester'd from the world ; 
 Here cease, thou exile, cease thy dole, 
 
 Unrenovating hurl'd. 
 
 How ! how ! thou gloomy back, yet choose 
 Hatred's low digjiity ? 
 
 I 3 Our
 
 118 THE ANCHORITE 
 
 Our train doth not despise the muse, 
 Or woo perfidity. 
 
 Nor more encourage negligrence : 
 
 O DO 
 
 Come, with the morning star, 
 ntwlne thine hand with diligence. 
 Nor thus suppressive marr. 
 
 Sing the man of cultivation, 
 
 Sing the quiet arts ; 
 Here can live no sweet reflection. 
 
 And where thy lyric smarts. 
 
 Destructive woe and strange surmize. 
 
 What diffidence is this ? 
 Sithonla never met surprize, 
 
 Or waging Troy, like this. 
 
 Thou indiscretion forlorn. 
 
 Whence irksome ideas are ; 
 Yc gods, alas ! and earthly born, 
 
 Therefore cannot be pure. 
 
 Thine a reputation dead. 
 
 Exasperating long ; 
 A lone mortality is bad 
 
 As hideous Acheron. 
 
 Renounce
 
 AND VITULA. 11^ 
 
 Renounce them all, ignoble hermit; 
 
 Nor be among the few, 
 Who'd rather solitary sit 
 
 Than good intention shew. 
 
 A laughing satire to all men 
 
 Thou art, enthusiast : 
 Though retir'u here to laugh at them, 
 
 Thou'rt ever made a jest. 
 
 She ended ; while yet on her brow 
 
 Contempt sat heavy clad ; 
 Aud vainly toss'd -herself; while now 
 
 Tiie hermit thus did plead. 
 
 Cease, aethereal Mirth, thy lay. 
 
 For, idly thou hast said ; 
 Dis shall, ere long, his groves display. 
 
 Thy debt shall yet be paid. 
 
 How odious thy vital springs ! 
 
 Thy limbs will blast and die : 
 Pestiferous malignant stings 
 
 With Vitula shall vie. 
 
 Her airs become ridiculous. 
 And spreading ills around , 
 
 I 4 Whca
 
 1^0 THE ANCHORITE 
 
 WTien Vitula's ignominious, 
 When sweets no more abound. 
 
 Nor lyric charms more shall appear 
 To soothe thy goddess' mien ; 
 
 Or plain or city more revere 
 Vitula unsupieme. 
 
 All glories faded, laurels drown'd, 
 
 A universal tale, 
 That sicken'd Mirth no odours found. 
 
 Involved, sad, and pale. 
 
 Thus ended he :^when she again ; 
 Both high in blood now stand ; 
 
 The shades now tremble, and the straia 
 Of nymphs await command. 
 
 Him Vitula implor'd to tell : 
 
 Tell me thy happiness, 
 Ere I retire from the cell 
 
 Of emulated bliss. 
 
 Reveal thy fame and excellence. 
 
 Truth, if it tarry here ; 
 Unfold thy peace and. elegance. 
 
 Essential habits wear. 
 
 Romantic
 
 AND VITUtA. 121 
 
 Romantic images thy worth. 
 
 Thine ridicule and ire : 
 Romantic fancy tells thy birth. 
 
 Romantic shades inspire. 
 
 More bright than Phoebus, god of day, 
 
 Truth from romance doth keep ; 
 More bright than stars' or moon's array. 
 
 That flatter men from sleep. 
 
 Intelligence none can invoke. 
 
 Nor can perfection please. 
 List, Anchorite, thou I invoke 
 
 Mere indolence and ease. 
 
 Did not Hegesias affiight 
 
 Himself and others too, 
 By giving life a gloomy sight. 
 
 More eloquent than you ? 
 
 But here triumphant confidence 
 
 Inanimated preys ; 
 And folly's self has not the sense 
 
 To spurn her idle \vays. 
 
 Here reason's lost in grots and caves, 
 'Midst Atrameutous hue : 
 
 Here,
 
 122 THE ANCHORITE 
 
 Here, mark'd with sighs, uncarress'd lives. 
 Her knowledge but to few. 
 
 Yet men will be contraiious. 
 
 Seme good, some bud Imbrue ; 
 Exonerate, and various 
 
 The beaten paths they sue. 
 
 Ilions some, and Latium's toils, 
 
 Some Dorion muses sing ; 
 Phcebus' fanes, Ascanius' foils. 
 
 The hermit venoms sting. 
 
 And yet I feel a blessed line. 
 
 Drawing all to agree ; 
 Which makes me solitude to join, 
 
 And that unites to me. 
 
 Henceforth repose, and boast thy muse, 
 
 \\ hose celestial fire 
 Alone beneath these bows you choose, 
 
 In quiet your desire. 
 
 Thus ended she ; her rage oppress'd. 
 
 And soft withdrew a step ; 
 Her nymphs would fainly have caress'd 
 
 But she forbid them yet. 
 
 While
 
 AND VI TULA. 125 
 
 While now the hermit in suspense 
 
 Stood tottering, and began : 
 Ere ye depart, tell me from whence 
 
 He did exclaim. Oh, men ! 
 
 Hence, then, thy antic forms and shapes. 
 
 Thy laughing jests, go way ; 
 Thy comic smiles, and tragic fates. 
 
 Thy quibs no longer stay. 
 
 The hills and valleys be my will, 
 
 I will them still my state ; 
 How is it, Miith, that tny crude will 
 
 Doth pass such tott'ring hate ? 
 
 Where's, where 's thy love and gratitade ? 
 
 My happiness is here ; 
 This calm best fits my aptitude. 
 
 Thine roving without fear. 
 
 Avaunt ! ye cheerless comforters. 
 
 Nor longer pity me ; 
 With whom there dwells no earthly fears. 
 
 Or heav'nly joys with ye. 
 
 Go, leave me to my rural sports, 
 To my sequester'd balm ; 
 
 Betake-
 
 121r THE ANCHORITE 
 
 Betake ye to your foul resorts ; -j 
 
 My breast then will be calm. 
 
 If I have lost Elysia*s prime, 
 
 Ye cannot bring it back ; 
 Ec^uivocate, and saternine. 
 
 Do often want more lack. 
 
 Be ever this paternal spot 
 
 My home and safe retreat, 
 And, thus, contentment be my lot. 
 
 Till I and heaven meet. 
 
 Until my mortal days are gone. 
 
 Eternal pleasures come ; 
 And utter darkness shuts the loam. 
 
 Adversity's full sum ! 
 
 Hence ! frantic fools, nor more intrude 
 
 On my serious hours ; 
 With ye there dwells inquietude. 
 
 Breaking my balmy bow'rs. 
 
 Once more soft gliJe, ye shallow streams. 
 
 Reluctant murmuring ! 
 Ye golden muses, dart your beams, * 
 
 To Helicon I sing I 
 
 And,
 
 AND VITULA. 185 
 
 And, whensoe'er adventual. 
 
 Ye cruel fates, me cast. 
 Myself I have addoom'd to dwell 
 
 With Nine, both first and last ! 
 
 Henceforth now dance, and sing in choir. 
 
 Sweet Venus' train appear ; 
 With whom I ever will explore 
 
 The pleasures of the year. 
 
 Come on, now, Arcadia's mien. 
 
 Thee I woo'd from my birth ; 
 Come, thou, sweet Socratic theme,. 
 
 To ease thy dolesome earth. 
 
 And darksome night put on thy wing. 
 
 Moon regent of the sky ; 
 Sister contemplation sing. 
 
 And Vitula will die. 
 
 Come, silver-winged wand'ring spheres, 
 
 And peep into my hut ; 
 Where I may sit, and count of years 
 
 The wonders that are wrought. 
 
 And meditate upon the stars. 
 Then fall to noble man ; 
 
 And
 
 126 THE ANCHORITE AND VITUL|^ 
 
 And muse on all his toils and cares, 
 Which in the day I sang. 
 
 All works, O God ! all thine behold. 
 
 Which way I turn iny eye ; 
 Go, Mirth, muse on these blessings told. 
 
 And claim a tender sigh. 
 
 For, I turn to my quiet cell, 
 Where love and peace do tarry t 
 
 With gaietv I cannot dwell, ' ' 
 
 Hence better learn to marry. 
 
 In stepp'd the hermit, and from whence 
 
 Gay Vitula did come : 
 She wav'd her head in reverence. 
 
 And hail'd her native home. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 J, H. Hart, Printer, 23, WarMick-Square.
 
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