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HOPE. ECLOGUE II.

To Mr. D ODDINGTON.

Ear, DODDINGTON, the notes that shepherds fing,
Notes foft as thofe of nightingales in spring :
Nor Pan, nor Phoebus tune the shepherd's reed:
From Love alone our tender lays proceed;

Love warms our fancy with enliv'ning fires,
Refines our genius, and our verse inspires:
From him Theocritus, on Enna's plains,
Learnt the wild sweetness of his Doric strains;
Virgil by him was taught the moving art,

That charm'd each ear, and soften'd ev'ry heart:
O would't thou quit the pride of courts, and deign
To dwell with us upon the vocal plain,

Thee too his pow'r should reach, and ev'ry shade
Refound the praises of thy fav'rite maid;

Thy pipe our rural concert wou'd improve,
And we should learn of thee to please and love.
Damon no longer fought the filent shade,
No more in unfrequented paths he stray'd,
But call'd the nymphs to hear his jocund fong,
And told his joy to all the ruftick throng.

Bleft be the hour, he faid, that happy hour, When first I own'd my Delia's gentle pow'r ; Then gloomy Difcontent and pining Care Forfook my breaft, and left foft wishes there: Soft wishes there they left, and gay defires, Delightful languors, and tranfporting fires. Where yonder limes combine to form a fhade, These eyes firft gaz'd upon the charming maid; There fhe appear'd, on that aufpicious day, When fwains their sportive rites to Bacchus pay:

She led the dance-heav'ns! with what grace fhe mov'd! Who cou'd have seen her then, and not have lov'd?

I ftrove not to refift so sweet a flame,

But glory'd in a happy captive's name;

Nor wou'd I now, cou'd Love permit, be free,
But leave to brutes their favage liberty.

And art thou then, fond fwain, fecure of joy?
Can no reverse thy flatt'ring bliss destroy?
Has treach'rous Love no torment yet in ftore?
Or haft thou never prov'd his fatal pow'r ?
Whence flow'd those tears that late bedew'd thy check?
Why figh'd thy heart as if it ftrove to break?

Why were the defart rocks invok'd to hear

The plaintive accents of thy fad despair?

From Delia's rigour all thofe pains arofe,
Delia, who now compaffionates my woes,

Who bids me Hope; and in that charming word
and transport to my foul restor❜d.

Has

peace

Begin, my pipe, begin the gladsome lay;
A kifs from Delia shall thy musick pay;
A kifs obtain❜d 'twixt ftruggling and confent,
Giv'n with forc'd anger, and disguis'd content :
No laureat wreaths I ask to bind my brows,
Such as the Muse on lofty bards bestows;
Let other swains to praise or fame aspire :
I from her lips my recompence require.

Hark how the bees with murmurs fill the plain,
While ev'ry flow'r of ev'ry sweet they drain :
See, how beneath yon hillock's fhady steep,
The shelter'd herds on flow'ry couches sleep
Nor bees, nor herds, are half fo bleft as I,
If with my fond defires my Love comply:
From Delia's lips a sweeter honey flows,
And on her bofom dwells more foft repose.

Ah how, my dear, fhall I deferve thy charms?
What gift can bribe thee to my longing arms ?
A bird for thee in filken bands I hold,
Whose yellow plumage shines like polish'd gold;
From diftant ifles the lovely ftranger came,
And bears the Fortunate Canaries name;
In all our woods none boasts fo fweet a note,
Not ev❜n the nightingale's melodious throat.
Accept of this; and cou'd I add befide
What wealth the rich Peruvian mountains hide ;
If all the gems in Eastern rocks were mine,
On thee alone their glitt'ring pride fhou'd shine.

But if thy mind no gifts have pow'r to move,
Phoebus himself shall leave th' Aonian grove;
The tuneful Nine, who never fue in vain,
Shall come sweet fuppliants for their fav'rite swain.
For him each blue-ey'd Naiad of the flood,
For him each green-hair'd fister of the wood,
Whom oft beneath fair Cynthia's gentle ray
His mufick calls to dance the night away.
And you, fair nymphs, companions of my Love;
With whom she joys the cowflip meads to rove,
I beg you recommend my faithful flame,
And let her often hear her fhepherd's name ;
Shade all my faults from her enquiring fight,
And fhew my merits in the fairest light;
My pipe your kind assistance shall repay,
And ev'ry friend shall claim a diff'rent lay.

But fee! in yonder glade the heav'nly fair
Enjoys the fragrance of the breezy air ---
Ah, thither let me fly with eager feet;
Adieu, my pipe, I go my Love to meet-
O may I find her as we parted last,
And may each future hour be like the past !
So fhall the whitest lamb these pastures feed,
Propitious Venus, on thy altars bleed.

JEA

ΤΗ
Two is by

HE gods, O WALPOLE, give no blifs fincere :
Wealth is disturb'd by care, and pow'r by fear.

Of all the paffions that employ the mind,

In gentle Love the sweetest joys we find ;
Yet e'en those joys dire Jealousy molefts,
And blackens each fair image in our breasts.

O
may the warmth of thy too tender heart
Ne'er feel the sharpness of his venom'd dart;
For thy own quiet think thy mistress just,
And wifely take thy happiness on trust.
Begin my Muse, and Damon's woes rehearse,
In wildeft numbers and diforder'd verse.
On a romantick mountain's airy head
(While browzing goats at ease around him fed)
Anxious he lay, with jealous cares opprefs'd;
Distrust and anger lab'ring in his breast—
The vale beneath a pleafing profpect yields,
Of verdant meads and cultivated fields;
Through these a river rolls its winding flood,
Adorn'd with various tufts of rifing wood;

Here