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In Bayes I boast, whose braunch I beare:
From the same colle&tion, the following is perhaps the first example in our language now remaining, of the pure and unmixed pastoral; and in the erotic species, for ease of numbers, elegance of rural allusion, and simplicity of imagery, excels every thing of the kind in Spenser, who is erroneously ranked as our earliest English bucolic. I therefore hope to be pardoned for the length of the quotation.
Phyllida was a faire mayde,
Harpalus and eke Corin
* Fol. 109. * Together.
But Phyllida was all too coy For Harpalus to winne; For Corin was her only joy Who forst her not a pinne". How often would she flowers twine P How often garlandes make Of couslips and of columbine And al for Corin's sake. But Corin he had hawkes to lure, And forced more the fielde *; Of lovers lawe he toke no cure, For once he was begilde". Harpalus prevailed nought, His labour all was lost; For he was fardest from her thought, And yet he loved her most. Therefore waxt he both pale and leane, And drye as clot" of clay; His fleshe it was consumed cleane, His colour gone away. His beard it had not long be shave, His heare hong all unkempt's A man fit even for the grave, Whom spitefull love had spent. His eyes were red, and all forewatched", His face besprent with teares; It semde Vnhap had him long hatched In mids of his dispaires. His clothes were blacke and also bare, As one forlorne was he . Upon his head alwayes he ware A wreath of wyllow tree.
* Loved her not in the least. f Uncombed. * More engaged in field-sports. s Over-watched. That is, her eyes were * Deceived. Had once been in love. always awake, never closed by sleep.
* Labour. Pains. His entrails with a lance through-girded * Pierce through. So fol. 1 13, infr. quite. * Mates.
Nor can I omit to notice the sentimental and expressive metaphor contained in a single line.
Walking the path of pensive thought".
Perhaps there is more pathos and feeling in the Ode, in which The Lover in despaire lamenteth his Case, than in any other piece of the whole colle&tion.
These refle&tions, resulting from a retrospect of the vigorous and active part of life, destined for nobler pursuits, and unworthily wasted in the tedious and fruitless anxieties of unsuccessful love, are highly natural, and are painted from the heart; but their force is weakened by the poet's allusions. This miscellany affords the first pointed English epigram that I remember ; and which deserves to be admitted into the modern collections of that popular species of poetry. Sir Thomas More P r neol. : #: :*: Vol. III. H WaS