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2:6 Or taint-worm to the weanling-herds that graze, 2) Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, 46 When first the white-thorn blows; 24 Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. 57 Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless 5-/Clos'd o’er the head of your lov'd Lycidas ? [deep

For neither were ye playing on the steep,

3 Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, 52. Nor on the shaggy top of Mona* high, 33 Nor yet where Devat spreads her wizard stream: FAy me! I fondly dream! Had ye been there for what could that have done?

What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, 2-The Muse herself, for her enchanting son,

Whom universal Nature did lament,
When, by the rout that made the hideous roar,
His gory visage down the stream was sent,

Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore? ¿ Alas! what boots it with incessant care

To tend the homely, slighted, shepherd's trade,
And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?
Were it not better done, as others use,

To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, có Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair?

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
(That last infirmity of noble mind)
To scorn delights, and live laborious days;
But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,

And think to burst out into sudden blaze,
La Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears,

* The isles of Anglesey and of Man have both shared this title.

The river Dee; the ancient boundary between Eugland and ales,

?! And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the praise,

Phæbus replied, and touch'd my trembling ears; : Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,

Nor in the glistering foil,
Set off to' the world, nor in broad rumour lies;
But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes,
And perfect witness of all-judging Jove
As he pronounces lastly on each deed,
Of so much fame in Heaven expect thy meed.'*

O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd food,
Smooth-sliding Mincius,* crown'd with vocal reeds!
That strain I heard was of a higher mood :
But now my oat proceeds,
And listens to the herald of the sea
That came in Neptune's plea;
He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds,
What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain?
And question'd every gust of rugged winds
That blows from off each beaked promontory:

They knew not of his story;
. And sage Hippotadest their answer brings,

That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'a
The air was calm, and on the level brine
Sleek Panopet with all her sisters play'd..
It was that fatal and perfidious bark,
Built in the eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark,
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.

Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge

. A river of Venetia, on whose banks Virgil was born. + Eolus. the son of Hippotas,

| One of the Nereides, who was commonly insoked by mariners in storms,

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Like to that sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe.

Ah! who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge ?
Last came, and last did go,
The pilot* of the Galilean lake;
Two massy keys he bore of metals twain,.

(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain,)
> He shook his miter'd locks, and stern bespake:

How well could I have spar'd for thee, young swain,
Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake
Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold?
Of other care they little reckoning make,

Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, .
y And shove away the worthy bidden guest; [hold

Blind mouths ! that scarce themselves know how to .
A sheep-hook, or have learn'd aught else the least

That to the faithful herdnan's art belongs ? (sped;
What recks it them? What need they? They are,
And, when they list, their lean and flashy songs
Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw;
The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed,
But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread : _
Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw
Daily devours apace, and nothing said:
But that two-handed engine at the door
Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.'

Return Alpheus, the dread voice is past,
That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse,
And call the vales, and bid them hither cast
Their bells, and flowerets of a thousand hues.
Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use
Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,
On whose fresh lap the swart-star sparely looks;

* Saint Peter.' . VOL. VII.

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3 Throw hither all your quaint enamellid eyes,

That on the green turf suck the honied showers,
2/ And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Li 2 Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,
3 The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,

The white pink, and the pansy freak'd with jet,
The glowing violet,

The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd woodbine,
L>With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,

And every flower that sad embroidery wears:
Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed,
And daffadillies fill their cups with tears,
To strew the laureat herse where Lycid lies. -
For, so to interpose a little ease,
Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise ;
Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas
Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurld,
Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,

Where thou perhaps, under the whelming tide,
À Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world;

Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,
Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus* old,
Where the great Vision of the guarded Mount,f
Looks tow'rd Namancost and Bayona's hold;
Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth:
And, Oye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.

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* A Cornish giant.

Mount St. Michael; not far from the Land's End in Cort whence at low water it is accessible. The guarded mount, says Mr. Warton, is simply the fortified mount; and the great vision is the famous apparition of St. Michael, who is said to have appeared on the top of the mount, and to have directed a church to be built there.

Or Numantia ; a town of Old Castile, once highly celebrated in the Spanish history. Todd,

6 j - Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more,

For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead,
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor.
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,
And yet anon uprears his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: ,
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, (waves;
Through the dear might of Him* that walk'd the
Where, other groves and other streams along,

With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, 2 And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,

In the bless'd kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the saints above,
In solemn troops, and sweet societies,

That sing, and, singing, in their glory move, 5 And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.

Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more:
Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore,
In thy large recompence, and shalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood.

Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills,
While the still morn went out with sandals gray;.
He touch'd the tender stops of various quills,
With eager thought warbling his Doric lay:

And now the sun had stretch'd o’er all the hills, 9 And now was dropt into the western bay;

At last he rose, and twitch'd his mantle blue:
To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.

• A description of our Saviour.

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