The Rural Poetry of the English Language

Yet one of them, more hard of heart,

Did vow to do his charge,
Because the wretch that hired him

Had paid him very large.
The other would not agree thereto,

So here they fell at strife ;
With one another they did fight

About the children's life ;
And he that was of mildest mood

Did slay the other there,
Within an unfrequented wood,

While babes did quake for fear.

Who did confess the very truth,

The which is here expressed : Their uncle died, while he for debt

In prison long did rest.
All you that be executors made,

And overseers eke,
Of children that be fatherless,

And infants mild and meek ; Take you example by this thing,

And yield to each his right, Lest God, with such like inisery,

Your wicked minds requite.

LADY BARNARD'S “AULD ROBIN GRAY.”
When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at
And a' the warld to sleep are gane ; [hame,
The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my ee
When my gudeman lies sound by me.
Young Jamie loo'd me weel, and socht me for his

bride ;

He took the children by the hand,

When tears stood in their eye,
And bid them come and go with him,

And look they did not cry ;
And two long miles he led them on,

While they for food complain :
Stay here, quoth he, I'll bring you bread,

When I do come again. These pretty babes, with hand in hand,

Went wandering up and down,
But never more they saw the man

Returning from the town.
Their pretty lips with blackberries

Were all besmeared and dyed,
And when they saw the darksome night,

They sat them down and cried.
Thus wandered these two pretty babes,

Till death did end their grief ;
In one another's arms they died,

As babes wanting relief.
No burial these pretty babes

Of any man receives,
Till Robin Red-breast painfully

Did cover them with leaves.

But, saving a croun, he had naething else beside ;
To make that croun a pund, young Jamie gaed to sea;
And the croun and the pund were baith for me.
He hadna been awa a week but only twa, [awa ;
When my mother she fell sick, and the cow was stown
My father brak his arm, and young Jamie at the sea,
And Auld Robin Gray cam' a-courtin' me.
My father couldna wark, and my mother couldna
spin ;

[win; I toiled day and nicht, but their bread I couldna Auld Rob maintained them baith, and, wi' tears in

his ee,

And now the heavy wrath of God

Upon their uncle fell; Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house,

His conscience felt a bell; His barns were fired, his goods consumed,

His lands were barren made, His cattle died within the field,

And nothing with him staid. And, in the voyage of Portugal,

Two of his sons did die ; And, to conclude, himself was brought

To extreme misery ; He pawned and mortgaged all his land,

Ere seven years came about : And now at length this wicked act

Did by this means come out :
The fellow that did take in hand,

These children for to kill,
Was for a robbery judged to die,

As was God's blessed will ;

Said, Jennie, for their sakes, 0, marry me !
My heart it said nay, for I looked for Jamie back ;
But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a

wrack ; The ship it was a wrack — why didna Jamie dee? Or why do I live to say, Wae 's me? My father argued sair ; my mother didna speak; But she lookit in my face till my heart was like to break :

[in the sea, Sae they gied him my hand, though my heart was And Auld Robin Gray was gudeman to me. I hadna been a wife a week but only four, When sitting sae mournfully at the door, I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I couldna think it he, Till he said, I'm come back for to marry thee.' 0, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say ; We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves away : I wish I were dead! but I'm no like to dee ; And why do I live to say, Wae's me? I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin, I daurna think on Jamie, for that would be a sin ; But I'll do my best a gude wife to be, For Auld Robin Gray is so kind to me.

Lyttelton's "Progress of Lobe."

UNCERTAINTY.

Thought could not guard nor will restore thy peace;

Indulge the frenzy that thou must endure,
ECLOGUE I.

And soothe the pain thou know'st not how to cure. Pope! to whose reed, beneath the beechen shade,

: Come, flattering Memory! and tell my heart

How kind she was, and with what pleasing art The nymph of Thames a pleased attention paid,

She strove its fondest wishes to obtain,
While yet thy muse, content with humbler praise,
Warbled in Windsor's grove her sylvan lays,

Confirm her power, and faster bind my chain.
Though now, sublimely borne on Homer's wing,

If on the green we danced a mirthful band,

To me alone she gave her willing hand ; Of glorious wars and godlike chiefs she sing, 'Wilt thou with me revisit once again

Her partial taste, if e'er I touched the lyre, The crystal fountain and the flowery plain ?

Still in my song found something to admire ; Wilt thou indulgent hear my verse relate

By none but her my crook with flowers was crowned, The various changes of a lover's state,

By none but her my brows with ivy bound; And while each turn of passion I pursue,

The world that Damon was her choice believed, Ask thy own heart if what I tell be true?

The world, alas! like Damon was deceived. To the green margin of a lonely wood,

When last I saw her, and declared my fire Whose pendent shades o'erlooked a silver flood,

In words as soft as passion could inspire, Young Damon came, unknowing where he strayed,

Coldly she heard, and full of scorn withdrew, Full of the image of the beauteous maid.

Without one pitying glance, one sweet adieu. His flock far off unfed, untended lay,

The frighted hind, who sees his ripened corn To every savage a defenceless prey ;

Up from the roots by sudden tempest torn, No sense of interest could their master move,

Whose fairest hopes destroyed and blasted lie, And every care seemed trifling now but love :

Feels not so keen a pang of grief as I. A while in pensive silence he remained, (plained ;

Ah ! how have I deserved, inhuman maid ! But, though his voice was mute, his looks com

To have my faithful service thus repaid ? At length the thoughts within his bosom pent

Were all the marks of kindness I received Forced his unwilling tongue to give them vent.

But dreams of joy that charmed me and deceived ? Ye nymphs !' he cried, 'ye Dryads ! who so long Or did you only nurse my growing love Have favored Damon, and inspired his song ;

That with more pain I might your hatred prove ? For whom, retired, I shun the gay resorts

Sure guilty treachery no place could find Of sportful cities and of pompous courts ;

In such a gentle, such a generous mind ; In vain I bid the restless world adieu,

A maid brought up the woods and wilds among, To seek tranquillity and peace with you.

Could ne'er have learnt the arts of courts so young : Though wild Ambition and destructive Rage

No ; let me rather think her anger feigned, No factions here can form, no wars can wage,

Still let me hope my Delia may be gained ; Though Envy frowns not on your humble shades,

'T was only modesty that seemed disdain, Nor Calumny your innocence invades,

And her heart suffered when she gave me pain. Yet cruel Love, that troubler of the breast,

Pleased with this flattering thought, the love-sick Too often violates your boasted rest;

Felt the faint dawning of a doubtful joy. [boy With inbred storms disturbs your calm retreat,

Back to his flock most cheerful he returned, And taints with bitterness each rural sweet.

When now the setting sun more fiercely burned, "Ah, luckless day! when first with fond surprise

Blue vapors rose along the mazy rills, On Delia's face I fixed my eager eyes ;

And light's last blushes tinged the distant hills. Then in wild tumults all my soul was tost, Then reason, liberty, at once were lost, And every wish, and thought, and care, was gone,

HOPE.
But what my heart employed on her alone.

ECLOGUE II.
Then too she smiled ; can smiles our peace destroy,
Those lovely children of Content and Joy?

Hear, Doddington ! the notes that shepherds sing, How can soft pleasure and tormenting woo

Like those that warbling hail the genial Spring : From the same spring at the same moment flow? Nor Pan nor Phoebus tunes our artless reeds, Unhappy boy! these vain inquiries cease,

From Love alone their melody proceeds ;

From Love, Theocritus, on Enna's plains,

Nor bees nor herds are half so blest as I, Learnt the wild sweetness of his Doric strains ; If with my fond desires my love comply ; Young Maro, touched by his inspiring dart,

From Delia's lips a sweeter honey flows, Could charm each ear, and soften every heart ; And on her bosom dwells more soft repose. Me too his power has reached, and bids with thine • Ah how, my dear! shall I deserve thy charms ? My rustic pipe in pleasing concert join.

What gift can bribe thee to my longing arms ? Damon no longer sought the silent shade, A bird for thee in silken bands I hold, No more in unfrequented paths he strayed,

Whose yellow plumage shines like polished gold ; But called the swains to hear his jocund song,

From distant isles the lovely stranger came, And told his joy to all the rural throng.

And bears the fortunate Canaries' name ; Blest be the hour,' he said, 'that happy hour, In all our woods none boast so sweet a note, When first I owned my Delia's gentle power ! Not e'en the nightingale's melodious throat; Then gloomy discontent and pining care

Accept of this, and could I add beside Forsook my breast, and left soft wishes there ; What wealth the rich Peruvian mountains hide, Soft wishes there they left and gay desires,

If all the gems in Eastern rocks were mine, Delightful languors and transporting fires.

On thee alone their glittering pride should shine : Where yonder limes combine to form a shade, But if thy mind no gifts have power to move, These eyes first gazed upon the charming maid ;

Phoebus himself shall leave the Aonian grove ; There she appeared on that auspicious day

The tuneful nine, who never sue in vain, When swains their sportive rites to Bacchus pay : Shall come sweet suppliants for their favorite swain: She led the dance - Heavens ! with what grace she

For him each blue-eyed Naiad of the flood, moved !

For him each green-haired sister of the wood, Who could have seen her then and not have loved ? Whom oft beneath fair Cynthia's gentle ray I strove not to resist so sweet a flame,

His music calls to dance the night away. But gloried in a happy captive's name ;

And you, fair nymphs ! companions of my love, Nor would I now, could Love permit, be free,

With whom she joys the cowslip meads to rove, But leave to brutes their savage liberty.

I beg you recommend my faithful flame, * And art thou, then, fond youth ! secure of joy ?

And let her often hear her shepherd's name :
Can no reverse thy flattering bliss destroy ? Shade all my faults from her inquiring sight,
Has treacherous Love no torment yet in store? And show my merits in the fairest light;
Or hast thou never proved his fatal power ?

My pipe your kind assistance shall repay, Whence flowed those tears that late bedewed thy And every friend shall claim a different lay. check ?

• But see! in yonder glade the heavenly fair Why sighed thy heart as if it strove to break ? Enjoys the fragrance of the breezy air. Why were the desert rocks invoked to hear

Ah ! thither let me fly with cager feet : The plaintive accent of thy sad despair ?

Adieu, my pipe ! I go my love to meet. From Delia's rigor all those pains arose,

O may I find her as we parted last, Delia ! who now compassionates my woes,

And may each future hour be like the past ! Who bids me hope, and in that charming word

So shall the whitest lamb these pastures feed, Has peace and transport to my soul restored. Propitious Venus ! on thy altars bleed.'

* Begin, my pipe ! begin the gladsome lay;
A kiss from Delia shall thy music pay,
A kiss obtained 'twixt struggling and consent,

JEALOUSY.
Given with forced anger and disguised content.
No laureate wreaths I ask to bind my brows

ECLOGUE III.
Such as the muse on lofty bards bestows ;
Let other swains to praise or fame aspire,

The gods, 0 Walpole ! give no bliss sincere ; I from her lips my recompense require.

Wealth is disturbed by care, and power by fear.
Why stays my Delia in her secret bower ? Of all the passions that employ the mind,
Light gales have chased the late impending shower, In gentle love the sweetest joys we find :
Th' emerging sun more bright his beams extends, Yet e'en those joys dire Jealousy molests,
Opposed its beauteous arch the rainbow bends, And blackens each fair image in our breasts.
Glad youths and maidens turn the new-made hay, O may the warmth of thy too tender heart
The birds renew their songs on every spray ;

Ne'er feel the sharpness of his venomed dart!
Como forth, my love ! thy shepherd's joys to crown: For thy own quiet think thy mistress just,
All nature smiles — will only Delia frown?

And wisely take thy happiness on trust.
Hark how the bees with murmurs fill the plain, Begin, my Muse ! and Damon's woes rehearse
While every flower of every sweet they drain : In wildest numbers and disordered verse.
See how beneath yon billock's shady steep

On a romantic mountain's airy head
The sheltered herds on flowery couches sleep : While browsing goats at ease around him fed

Alas ! what aid, fond swain! would thou receive ?
Could thy heart bear to see its Delia grieve?
Protect her, Heaven ! and let her never know
The slightest part of hapless Damon's woo :
I ask no vengeance from the powers above,
All I implore is never more to love.
Let me this fondness from my bosom tear,
Let me forget that e'er I thought her fair.
Come, cool Indifference ! and heal my breast;
Wearied, at length I seek thy downy rest :
No turbulence of passion shall destroy
My future ease with flattering hopes of joy.
Hear, mighty Pan! and all ye Sylvans ! hear
What by your guardian deities I swear ;
No more my eyes shall view her fatal charms,
No more I 'll court the traitress to my arms;
Not all her arts my steady soul shall move,
And she shall find that Reason conquers Love!'

Searce had he spoke when through the lawn below
Alone he saw the beauteous Delia go ;
At once transported he forgot his vow -
Such perjuries the laughing gods allow ! -
Down the steep hills with ardent haste ho flow :
He found her kind, and soon believed her true.

Anxious he lay, with jealous cares opprest,
Distrust and anger laboring in his breast :-
The vale beneath a pleasing prospect yields
Of verdant meads and cultivated fields ;
Through these a river rolls its winding flood,
Adorned with various tufts of rising wood;
Here half concealed in trees a cottage stands,
A castle there the opening plain commands ;
Beyond, a town with glittering spires is crowned,
And distant hills the wide horizon bound.
So charming was the scene, a while the swain
Beheld delighted, and forgot his pain ;
But soon the stings infixed within his heart
With cruel force renewed their raging smart :
His flowery wreath, which long with pride he wore,
The gift of Delia, from his brows he tore,
Then cried : May all thy charms, ungrateful maid !
Like these neglected roses droop and fade !
May angry Heaven deform each guilty grace
That triumphs now in that deluding face !
Those altered looks may every shepherd fly,
And ev'n thy Daphnis hate thee worse than I !

Say, thou inconstant ! what has Damon done
To lose the heart his tedious pains had won ?
Tell me what charms you in my rival find,
Against whose power no ties have strength to bind ?
Has he, like me, with long obedience strove
To conquer your disdain, and merit love?
Has he with transport every smile adored,
And died with grief at each ungentle word ?
Ah, no! the conquest was obtained with ease ;
He pleased you by not studying to please ;
His careless indolence your pride alarmed,
And had he loved you more, he less had charmed.

O pain to think another shall possess Those balmy lips which I was wont to press ! Another on her panting breast shall lie, And catch sweet madness from her swimming eye! I saw their friendly flocks together feed, I saw them hand in hand walk o'er the mead ; Would my closed oye had sunk in endless night Ere I was doomed to bear that hateful sight! Where'er they passed be blasted every flower, And hungry wolves their helpless flocks devour ! Ah, wretched swain ! could no examples move Thy heedless heart to shun the rage of love ? Hast thou not heard how poor Menalcas 1 died A victim to Parthenia's fatal pride ? Dear was the youth to all the tuneful plain, Loved by the nymphs, by Phoebus loved, in vain : Around his tomb their tears the Muses paid, And all things mourned but the relentless maid. Would I could die like him, and be at peace ; These torments in the quiet grave would cease ; There my vexed thoughts a calm repose would find, And rest as if my Delia still were kind. No ; let me live her falsehood to upbraid ; Some god perhaps my just revenge will aid.

POSSESSION.

ECLOGUE IV. Cobham ! to thee this rural lay I bring, Whose guiding judgment gives me skill to sing, Though far unequal to those polished strains With which thy Congreve charmed the list'ning

plains ; Yet shall its music please thy partial ear, [dear, And soothe thy breast with thoughts that once were Recall those years which Time has thrown behind, When smiling Love with Honor shared thy mind. * * The sweet remembrance shall thy youth restore, Fancy again shall run past pleasures o'er, And while in Stowe's enchanting walks you stray, This theme may help to cheat the Summer's day.

Beneath the covert of a myrtle wood, To Venus raised, a rustic altar stood - To Venus and to Hymen, there combined In friendly league to favor human kind. With wanton Cupids in that happy shade The gentle Virtues and mild Wisdom played ; Nor there, in sprightly Pleasure's genial train, Lurked sick Disgust or late-repenting Pain, Nor force nor Interest joined unwilling hands, But Love consenting tied the blissful bands. Thither with glad devotion Damon came, To thank the powers who blest his faithful flame ; Two milk-white doves he on their altar laid, And thus to both his grateful homage paid : Hail, bounteous God! before whose hallow'd shrine My Delia vowed to be forever mine, While, glowing in her cheeks, with tender love Sweet virgin modesty reluctant strove ;

1 See Mr. Gay's 'Dione.'

And hail to thee, fair queen of young desires ! Long shall my heart preserve thy pleasing fires, Since Delia now can all its warmth return.1

What are ye now, my once most valued joys ? Insipid trifles all, and childish toys. Friendship itself ne'er knew a charm like this, Nor Colin's talk could please like Delia's kiss.

Ye Muses, skilled in every winning art, Teach me more deeply to engage her heart : Ye Nymphs ! to her your freshest roses bring, And crown her with the pride of all the spring ; On all her days let health and peace attend ; May she ne'er want nor ever lose a friend ! May some new pleasure every hour employ, But let her Damon be her highest joy!

With thee, my love ! forever will I stay, All night caress thee, and admire all day ;

In the same field our mingled flocks we 'll feed,
To the same spring our thirsty heifers lead ;
Together will we share the harvest toils,
Together press the vine's autumnal spoils.
Delightful state ! where Peace and Love combine,
To bid our tranquil days unclouded shine!
Here limpid fountains roll through flowery meads,
Here rising forests lift their verdant heads,
Here let me wear my careless life away,
And in thy arms insensibly decay.

• When late old age our heads shall silver o'er,
And our slow pulses dance with joy no more,
When Time no longer will thy beauties spare,
And only Damon's eye shall think thee fair,
Then may the gentle hand of welcome death
At one soft stroke deprive us both of breath!
May we beneath one common stone be laid,
And the same cypress both our ashes shade !
Perhaps some friendly Muse in tender verse
Shall deign our faithful passion to rehearse,
And future ages, with just envy moved,
Be told how Damon and his Delia loved.'

1 Thirteen lines are here omitted, as being too warm for modern taste — in print ; also two lines in the address to Cobham, in the previous column, for the same reason. - J.

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The Rural Poetry of the English Language: Illustrating the Seasons and ...