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The Graces ftand in fight; a Satyr train
Peep o’er their heads, and laugh behind the scene.
In Fame's fair temple, o’er the boldest wits
Inshrin'd on high the sacred Virgil fits,
And sits in measures, such as Virgil's Muse
To place thee near him might be fond to chuse.
How might he tune th' alternate reed with thee,
Perhaps a Strephon thou, a Daphnis he,
While some old Damon, o'er the vulgar wise,
Thinks he deserves, and thou deserv'ft, the prize.
Rapt with the thought, my fancy seeks the plains,
And turns me shepherd while I hear the strains.
Indulgent nurse of every tender gale,
Parent of flowerets, old Arcadia, hail !
Here in the cool my limbs at ease I spread,
Here let thy poplars whisper o'er my head,
Still slide thy waters foft
the trees ;
Thy aspins quiver in a breathing breeze,
Smile all thy vallies in eternal spring,
Be hush'd, ye winds! while Pope and Virgil sing.
In English lays, and all sublimely great,
Thy Homer warms with all his ancient heat,
He shines in council, thunders in the fight,
And Aames with every sense of great dclight.
Long has that poet reign'd, and long unknown,
Like monarchs sparkling on a distant throne ;
In all the majesty of Greece retir'd,
Himself unknown, his mighty name admir’d,
His language failing, wrapp'd him round with night,
Thine, rais'd by thee, recalls the work to light.
So wealthy mines, that ages long before
Fed the large realms around with golden ore,
When choak'd by sinking banks, no more appear,
And shepherds only say, The mines were here !
Should some rich youth (if nature warm his heart,
And all his projects stand inform’d with art)
Here clear the caves, there ope the leading vein ;
The mines detected flame with gold again.
How vast, how copious, are thy new designs !
How every music varies in thy lines !
Still as I read, I feel my bosom beat,
And rise in raptures by another's heat.
Thus in the wood, when summer dress’d the days,
When Windsor lent us tuneful hours of ease,
Our ears the lark, the thrush, the turtle blest;
And Philomela sweetest o'er the rest :
The shades resound with song- softly tread !
While a whole season warbles round
head, This to my friend—and when a friend inspires, My filent harp its master's hand requires, Shakes off the dust, and makes these rocks resound, For fortune plac'd me in unfertile ground; Far from the joys that with my soul agree, From wit, from learning,-far, oh far from thee! Here moss-grown trees expand the smallest leaf, Here half an acre's corn is half a sheaf, Here hills with naked heads the tempest meet, Rocks at their fide, and torrents at their feet, Or lazy lakes, unconscious of a flood, Whose dull brown Naiads ever sleep in mud.
Yet here content can dwell, and learned ease, A friend delight me, and an author please; Er'n here I fing, while Pope supplies the theme, Show my own love, though not increase his fame,
FIRST CANTO OF THE RAPE OF THE LOCK,
AFTER THE MANNER OF THE ANCIENT MONKS.
ET nunc dilectum speculum, pro more retectum,
Emicat in mensâ, quæ splendet pyxide densâ : Tum primum lymphâ, fe purgat candida nympha; Jamque fine mendâ, cælestis imago videnda, Neda caput, bellos retinet, regit, implet, ocellos, Hâc ftupet explorans, seu cultus numen adorans. Inferior claram Pythonissa apparet ad aram, Fertque tibi cautè, dicatque fuperbia ! lautè, Dona venusta; oris, quæ cunctis, plena laboris, Excerpta explorat, dominamque deamque decorat. Pyxide devotâ, fe pandit hic India tota, Et tota ex iftâ transpirat Arabia cista : Testudo hic flectit, dum fe mea Lesbia pectit; Atque elephas lentè, te pectit Lesbia dente; Hunc maculis nôris, nivei jacet ille coloris. Hic jacet et mundè, mundus muliebris abundè; Spinula resplendens æris longo ordine pendens,
Pulvis fuavis odore, et epistola suavis amore.
In luit arma ergo, Veneris pulcherrima virgo;
Pulchrior in præsens tempus de tempore crescens ;
Jam reparat risus, jam surgit gratiâ visûs,
Jam promit cultu, mirac'la latentia vultu.
Pigmina jam miscet, quo plus sua purpura gliscet,
Et geminans bellis fplendet magè fulgor ocellis.
Stant Lemures muti, Nymphæ intentique faluti,
Hic figit zonam, capiti, locat ille coronam,
Hæc manicis formam, plicis dat et altera normam ;
Et tibi vel Betty, tibi vel nitidiffima Letty !
Gloria factorum temerè conceditur borum.
Now early shepherds o'er the meadow pass,
And print long footsteps in the glittering grass ; The cows neglectful of their pasture stand, By turns obsequious to the milker's hand.
When Damon softly trod the shaven lawn, Damon a youth from city cares withdrawn; Long was the pleasing walk he wander'd through, A cover'd arbour clos'd the distant view; There rests the youth, and, while the feather'd throng Raise their wild music, thus contrives a song.
Here, wafted o'er by mild Etesian air, Thou country Goddess, beauteous Health ! repair ; Here let my breast through quivering trees inhale Thy rosy bleflings with the morning gale.
What are the fields, or flowers, or all I fee ?
Ah! tasteless all, if not enjoy'd with thee.
Joy to my soul! I feel the Goddess nigh,
The face of nature cheers as well as I;
O'er the flat green refreshing breezes run,
The smiling daizies blow beneath the fun,
The brooks run purling down with filver waves,
The planted lanes rejoice with dancing leaves,
The chirping birds from all the compass rove
To tempt the tuneful echoes of the grove :
High funny summits, deeply-shaded dales,
Thick mofly banks, and flowery winding vales,
With various prospect gratify the fight,
And scatter fix'd attention in delight.
Come, country Goddess, come; nor thou fuffice,
But bring thy mountain-fifter, Exercise.
Call’d by thy lovely voice, she turns her pace,
Her winding horn proclaims the finish'd chace;
She mounts the rocks, she skims the level plain,
Dogs, hawks, and horses, croud her early train.
Her hardy face repels the tanning wind,
And lines and meshes loosely foat behind.
All these as means of toil the feeble fee,
But these are helps to pleasure join'd with thee.
Let Sloth lie softening till high noon in down, Or lolling fan her in the fultry town, Unnery'd with rest; and turn her own disease, Or foster others in luxurious ease : I mount the courfer, call the deep-mouth'd hounds, The fox unkennel'd flies to covert grounds ;