A PASTORAL.
In imitation of DRAYTON's second Nymphal.
Cleon and Lycidas were jolly swains,
Their worth distinguish'd on th' Arcadian plains.
Cleon, a hardy youth, on mountains bred,
O'er craggy rocks his browzing goats he led;
At rural festivals he still appear'd,
A challenger in ev'ry combat fear'd:
For none like him the weighty sledge could throw,
Or manage with more dextrous art the bow;
In wrestling skill'd, and foremost in the race,
Advent'rous still, and eager for the chace;
Thro' savage woods, o'er hills with summits hoar,
Arm'd with a spear, he trac'd the tusky boar.
But Lycidas among the nymphs was bred,
The flow'ry vales he sought, and verdant mead,
And there, by curling streams, his flocks were fed.
His goodly stature, and well-featur'd face,
Of ev'ry shepherdess obtain'd the grace.
His flaxen hair, in ringlets from his crown,
Beneath his shoulders car[e]lessly hung down.
Whene'er he danc'd, Apollo's self was seen,
In the proportion'd step, and graceful mien;
He spoke so fine, so artfully he sung,
None but Myrtilla could resist his tongue.
No charms but her's his numbers could inspire:
The nymph was fam'd, a sylvan god her sire.
Her mother of the Naiads beautous race;
From her she took the sweetness of her face.
Not Venus' self could boast a face more fair,
More rosy lips, or more inticing hair.
Her blooming innocence, her lovely eyes,
And perfect shape, did ev'ry heart surprise.
Her voice cou'd ev'n a rising torrent stay,
A hungry lion's fiercest rage allay,
And keep the list'ning savage from his prey.
The maid by gentle Lycidas was lov'd,
Nor wilder Cleon less enamour'd prov'd,
The lovers both attend the usual hour,
That brought Myrtilla from her fragrant bow'r,
To breath the balmy morning's pleasant air;
When full of warm desires the swains prepare,
With songs and promis'd gifts, to gain the fair.
LYCIDAS.
A snowy lamb I've bred, so full of play,
'Twill entertain my shepherdess all day;
To thee, when hungry, it will bleat, as proud
From thy fair hands alone to take its food;
Then to express its joy, with many abound
And airy frisk, 'twill seem to scorn the ground:
And this, with all my future vows, are thine,
If thou, for me, my rival wilt decline.
CLEON.
My proffers now, and artless language hear,
And turn from his smooth tales thy list'ning ear.
For I can boast a kid more white than milk,
And softer far than the Siberian silk;
When'er you walk, 'twill walk as gently by,
And at your feet, when'er you sit, will lie;
If o'er the plains you run with nimble pace,
'Twill skip along, and seem to urge the race:
And this, bright maid, I frankly offer thee,
To quit my rival, and to live with me.
MYRTILLA.
Have you, indeed, such valu'd things in store,
And never boasted of your wealth before?
Your offers, gentle youths, I own most fair,
And such a kid or lamb are wond'rous rare.
What virtue so severe, what maid so vain,
Such lovers, and such presents to disdain?
Yet Minx, my dog, I dare a wager lay,
As many tricks as both of them shall play.
LYCIDAS.
But I two sparrows will on thee bestow,
Their plumes unsoil'd, and white as falling snow;
Venus herself had warm'd them in her breast,
Had her unlucky son but found the nest.
The sprightly birds are bred so tame, they'll stand,
And chirp, and sweetly prattle on thy hand;
Wanton, among thy curling locks they'll creep,
And, if permitted, in thy bosom sleep.
CLEON.
Fair nymph, his boasted sparrows do not mind,
As good in ev'ry common bush I'll find.
But I a pair of am'rous doves will bring,
With shining plumes, and nicely checquer'd wing;
Their changing necks more various colours show,
Than Iris paints on the celestial bow;
Should Cytheraea on them cast an eye,
The birds she'd with her golden apple buy.
MYRTILLA.
With such fine doves and sparrows will you part
Unthinking youths! to gain a trifling heart?
On Venus, who so well their worth must know,
The wond'rous birds you'd better far bestow:
Your costly zeal the goddess may reward,
And your soft vows propitiously regard.
LYCIDAS.
To crown thy temples, garlands I'll compose
Of full-blown lillies, and the budding rose;
With those the golden hyacinth I'll twine,
And blushing pinks, and purple vi'lets join;
Fresh nosegays from the fields each day I'll bring,
Made up of all the sweetness of the spring.
CLEON.
His wreaths and painted nosegays will decay,
And lose their proudest beauty in a day:
But I've a gift which all his trifles mocks;
As towards the beach I lately drove my flocks,
Three coral-sprigs I found among the rocks:
These nicely plac'd among thy braided hair,
As little ornaments may serve my fair.
MYRTILLA.
With yellow hyacinths, pinks and vi'lets blue,
In garlands wreath'd, and painted nosegays too,
With coral-sprigs so deck'd, and wond'rous fine,
A lady of the May I shall out-shine.
But while I trim my braided locks so gay,
And waste in dressing half the fleeting day,
My flocks, I fear, would thus neglected, stray.
LYCIDAS.
As on Alphaeus' banks my sheep were fed,
I form'd a little barge of bending reed;
So closely wrought, and twisted round the sides,
That on the dancing wave secure it rides:
In this, if thou wilt try the silver stream,
Another sea-born goddess thou shalt seem;
While twelve white swans, with wreathing woodbines ty'd,
And tassell'd flow'rs, the floating pomp shall guide.
CLEON.
On yonder hill, with lofty forests crown'd,
A nymph of bright Diana's train I found,
Who from her sisters heedlessly had stray'd;
And by a brutal Satyr seiz'd, the maid
On her chaste goddess call'd aloud for aid:
I to her succour running, nimbly threw
A bearded arrow, which the monster slew.
On me the grateful virgin would bestow
Her painted quiver, and her polish'd bow.
The bow and gilded shafts thou may'st command,
And both are worthy of Diana's hand:
Thus arm'd, with me thou thro' the woods shalt rove,
And seem another goddess of the grove.
YRTILLA.
Thro' savage woods to hunt wild beasts with thee,
To love must needs a mighty motive be;
But I the dang'rous pleasure dare not prove,
Ev'n to be thought a goddess of the grove:
Nor less I fear to try the promis'd boat,
And venture on the dancing waves to float.
I've no ambition o'er the floods to ride,
Tho' drawn by swans, with wreathing woodbines ty'd;
Rather secure thro' peaceful vales I'd stray,
And watch my flocks in humble shades all day.
But if a tender thought could warm my breast,
In two such worthy lovers I were blest;
Whose merits with such equal claims appear;
That 'twere injustice either to prefer;
While both rejected, both must be content;
And treated thus, you've nothing to repent,
But that, like me, an hour you've idly spent.
In imitation of DRAYTON's second Nymphal.
Cleon and Lycidas were jolly swains,
Their worth distinguish'd on th' Arcadian plains.
Cleon, a hardy youth, on mountains bred,
O'er craggy rocks his browzing goats he led;
At rural festivals he still appear'd,
A challenger in ev'ry combat fear'd:
For none like him the weighty sledge could throw,
Or manage with more dextrous art the bow;
In wrestling skill'd, and foremost in the race,
Advent'rous still, and eager for the chace;
Thro' savage woods, o'er hills with summits hoar,
Arm'd with a spear, he trac'd the tusky boar.
But Lycidas among the nymphs was bred,
The flow'ry vales he sought, and verdant mead,
And there, by curling streams, his flocks were fed.
His goodly stature, and well-featur'd face,
Of ev'ry shepherdess obtain'd the grace.
His flaxen hair, in ringlets from his crown,
Beneath his shoulders car[e]lessly hung down.
Whene'er he danc'd, Apollo's self was seen,
In the proportion'd step, and graceful mien;
He spoke so fine, so artfully he sung,
None but Myrtilla could resist his tongue.
No charms but her's his numbers could inspire:
The nymph was fam'd, a sylvan god her sire.
Her mother of the Naiads beautous race;
From her she took the sweetness of her face.
Not Venus' self could boast a face more fair,
More rosy lips, or more inticing hair.
Her blooming innocence, her lovely eyes,
And perfect shape, did ev'ry heart surprise.
Her voice cou'd ev'n a rising torrent stay,
A hungry lion's fiercest rage allay,
And keep the list'ning savage from his prey.
The maid by gentle Lycidas was lov'd,
Nor wilder Cleon less enamour'd prov'd,
The lovers both attend the usual hour,
That brought Myrtilla from her fragrant bow'r,
To breath the balmy morning's pleasant air;
When full of warm desires the swains prepare,
With songs and promis'd gifts, to gain the fair.
LYCIDAS.
A snowy lamb I've bred, so full of play,
'Twill entertain my shepherdess all day;
To thee, when hungry, it will bleat, as proud
From thy fair hands alone to take its food;
Then to express its joy, with many abound
And airy frisk, 'twill seem to scorn the ground:
And this, with all my future vows, are thine,
If thou, for me, my rival wilt decline.
CLEON.
My proffers now, and artless language hear,
And turn from his smooth tales thy list'ning ear.
For I can boast a kid more white than milk,
And softer far than the Siberian silk;
When'er you walk, 'twill walk as gently by,
And at your feet, when'er you sit, will lie;
If o'er the plains you run with nimble pace,
'Twill skip along, and seem to urge the race:
And this, bright maid, I frankly offer thee,
To quit my rival, and to live with me.
MYRTILLA.
Have you, indeed, such valu'd things in store,
And never boasted of your wealth before?
Your offers, gentle youths, I own most fair,
And such a kid or lamb are wond'rous rare.
What virtue so severe, what maid so vain,
Such lovers, and such presents to disdain?
Yet Minx, my dog, I dare a wager lay,
As many tricks as both of them shall play.
LYCIDAS.
But I two sparrows will on thee bestow,
Their plumes unsoil'd, and white as falling snow;
Venus herself had warm'd them in her breast,
Had her unlucky son but found the nest.
The sprightly birds are bred so tame, they'll stand,
And chirp, and sweetly prattle on thy hand;
Wanton, among thy curling locks they'll creep,
And, if permitted, in thy bosom sleep.
CLEON.
Fair nymph, his boasted sparrows do not mind,
As good in ev'ry common bush I'll find.
But I a pair of am'rous doves will bring,
With shining plumes, and nicely checquer'd wing;
Their changing necks more various colours show,
Than Iris paints on the celestial bow;
Should Cytheraea on them cast an eye,
The birds she'd with her golden apple buy.
MYRTILLA.
With such fine doves and sparrows will you part
Unthinking youths! to gain a trifling heart?
On Venus, who so well their worth must know,
The wond'rous birds you'd better far bestow:
Your costly zeal the goddess may reward,
And your soft vows propitiously regard.
LYCIDAS.
To crown thy temples, garlands I'll compose
Of full-blown lillies, and the budding rose;
With those the golden hyacinth I'll twine,
And blushing pinks, and purple vi'lets join;
Fresh nosegays from the fields each day I'll bring,
Made up of all the sweetness of the spring.
CLEON.
His wreaths and painted nosegays will decay,
And lose their proudest beauty in a day:
But I've a gift which all his trifles mocks;
As towards the beach I lately drove my flocks,
Three coral-sprigs I found among the rocks:
These nicely plac'd among thy braided hair,
As little ornaments may serve my fair.
MYRTILLA.
With yellow hyacinths, pinks and vi'lets blue,
In garlands wreath'd, and painted nosegays too,
With coral-sprigs so deck'd, and wond'rous fine,
A lady of the May I shall out-shine.
But while I trim my braided locks so gay,
And waste in dressing half the fleeting day,
My flocks, I fear, would thus neglected, stray.
LYCIDAS.
As on Alphaeus' banks my sheep were fed,
I form'd a little barge of bending reed;
So closely wrought, and twisted round the sides,
That on the dancing wave secure it rides:
In this, if thou wilt try the silver stream,
Another sea-born goddess thou shalt seem;
While twelve white swans, with wreathing woodbines ty'd,
And tassell'd flow'rs, the floating pomp shall guide.
CLEON.
On yonder hill, with lofty forests crown'd,
A nymph of bright Diana's train I found,
Who from her sisters heedlessly had stray'd;
And by a brutal Satyr seiz'd, the maid
On her chaste goddess call'd aloud for aid:
I to her succour running, nimbly threw
A bearded arrow, which the monster slew.
On me the grateful virgin would bestow
Her painted quiver, and her polish'd bow.
The bow and gilded shafts thou may'st command,
And both are worthy of Diana's hand:
Thus arm'd, with me thou thro' the woods shalt rove,
And seem another goddess of the grove.
YRTILLA.
Thro' savage woods to hunt wild beasts with thee,
To love must needs a mighty motive be;
But I the dang'rous pleasure dare not prove,
Ev'n to be thought a goddess of the grove:
Nor less I fear to try the promis'd boat,
And venture on the dancing waves to float.
I've no ambition o'er the floods to ride,
Tho' drawn by swans, with wreathing woodbines ty'd;
Rather secure thro' peaceful vales I'd stray,
And watch my flocks in humble shades all day.
But if a tender thought could warm my breast,
In two such worthy lovers I were blest;
Whose merits with such equal claims appear;
That 'twere injustice either to prefer;
While both rejected, both must be content;
And treated thus, you've nothing to repent,
But that, like me, an hour you've idly spent.