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For him each virgin sighs; and on the plains 21
The happy youth above each rival reigns.
Nor to the echoing groves, and whispering spring,
In sweeter strains does artful Conon sing;
When loud applauses fill the crowded groves,
And Phoebus the superior song approves.
Beauteous Aminta is as early light, Breaking the melancholy shades of night; When she is near, all anxious trouble flies, And our reviving hearts confess her eyes. 30 Young love, and blooming joy, and gay desires, In every breast the beauteous nymph inspires; And on the plain when she no more appears, The plain a dark and gloomy prospect wears. In vain the streams roll on; the eastern breeze Dances in vain among the trembling trees; In vain the birds begin their evening song, And to the silent night their notes prolong: Nor groves, nor crystal streams, nor verdant field Does wonted pleasure in her absence yield. 40
And in his absence, all the pensive day,
In some obscure retreat I lonely stray;
All day to the repeating caves complain,
In mournful accents, and a dying strain;
Dear lovely youth, I cry to all around;
Dear lovely youth, the flattering vales resound.
On flowery banks, by every murmuring stream, Aminta is my Muse's softest theme;
'Tis she that does my artful notes refine: 49 With fair Aminta's name my noblest verse shall shine.
I'll twine fresh garlands for Alexis' brows,
And consecrate to him eternal vows;–
The charming youth shall my Apollo prove;
He shalladorn my songs, and tune my voice to love.
TO THE AUTHOR OF THE FOREGOING PASTORAL.
By Silvia if thy charming self be meant,
If friendship be thy virgin vows' extent,
O! let me in Aminta's praises join;
Hers my esteem shall be, my passion thine.
When for thy head the garland I prepare,
A second wreath shall bind Aminta's hair,
And when my choicest songs thy worth proclaim,
Alternate verse shall bless Aminta's name;
My heart shall own the justice of her cause,
And Love himself submit to Friendship's laws. 10
But, if beneath thy numbers' soft disguise,
Some favoured swain, some true Alexis lies;
If Amaryllis breathes thy secret pains,
And thy fond heart beats measure to thy strains,
Mayst thou, howe'er I grieve, for ever find
The flame propitious, and the lover kind;
May Venus long exert her happy power,
And make thy beauty, like thy verse, endure;
May every God his friendly aid afford,
Pan guard thy flock, and Ceres bless thy board. 20
But, if by chance the series of thy joys 21 Permit one thought less cheerful to arise, Piteous, transfer it to the mournful swain, Who loving much, who not beloved again, Feels an ill-fated passion's last excess, And dies in woe, that thou mayst live in peace.
SHE REFUSING TO CONTINUE A DISPUTE WITH ME, AND
LEAVING ME IN THE ARGUMENT.
1 SPARE, generous Victor, spare the slave,
Who did unequal war pursue;
That more than triumph he might have,
In being overcome by you.
2 In the dispute whate'er I said,
My heart was by my tongue belied;
And in my looks you might have read
How much I argued on your side.
3 You, far from danger as from fear,
Might have sustained an open fight;
For seldom your opinions err;
Your eyes are always in the right.
4 Why, fair one, would you not rely
On Reason's force with Beauty's joined;
Could I their prevalence deny,
I must at once be deaf and blind.
5 Alas! not hoping to subdue,
I only to the fight aspired;
To keep the beauteous foe in view
Was all the glory I desired.
6 But she, howe'er of victory sure,
Contemns the wreath too long delayed;
And, armed with more immediate power,
Calls cruel silence to her aid.
7 Deeper to wound, she shuns the fight:
She drops her arms, to gain the field:
Secures her conquest by her flight:
And triumphs, when she seems to yield.
8 So when the Parthian turned his steed,
And from the hostile camp withdrew;
With cruel skill the backward reed
He sent; and as he fled, he slew.
SEEING THE DUKE OF ORMOND'Sl
AT SIR GODFREY KNELLER's.
OUT from the injured canvas, Kneller, strike These lines too faint; the picture is not like. Exalt thy thought, and try thy toil again. Dreadful in arms on Landen's glorious plain Place Ormond's duke; impendent in the air 5 Let his keen sabre, comet-like, appear, 1 James, Duke of Ormond, eldest son of Thomas, Earl of Ossory. He, after holding many considerable posts during the reigns of King William and Queen Anne, was, in the beginning of the reign of George the First, attainted of high treason on account of his being concerned in the unpopular measures of the last four years of Queen Anne's reign. He died in exile in the year
1745, in a very advanced age. At the battle of Landen he was taken prisoner, after his horse was shot under him, and he had received many wounds.
Where'er it points, denouncing death. Below 7
Draw routed squadrons, and the numerous foe
Falling beneath, or flying from his blow;
Till weak with wounds, and covered o'er with blood,
Which from the patriot's breast in torrents flowed,
He faints; his steed no longer feels the rein,
But stumbles o'er the heap his hand had slain.
And now exhausted, bleeding, pale he lies;
Lovely, sad object! In his half-closed eyes
Stern vengeance yet, and hostile terror stand;
His front yet threatens, and his frowns command;
The Gallic chiefs their troops around him call;
Fear to approach him, though they see him fall.
O Kneller, could thy shades and lights express 20
The perfect hero in that glorious dress,
Ages to come might Ormond's picture know,
And palms for thee beneath his laurels grow;
In spite of Time thy work might ever shine,
Nor Homer's colours last so long as thine.
Atque in amore mala haec proprio, summeque secundo
Inveniuntur— Lucret. lib. iv.
WHAT can I say, what arguments can prove
My truth, what colours can describe my love;
If its excess and fury be not known,
In what thy Celia has already done?
Thy infant flames, whilst yet they were concealed
In timorous doubts, with pity I beheld;
With easy smiles dispelled the silent fear
That durst not tell me what I died to hear;
In vain I strove to check my growing flame,
Or shelter passion under friendship's name; 10