On whofe foft pillows, lull'd in fweet delights,
He us'd in balmy fleep to lofe the nights.
Ah! where is all that love and fondness fled?
Ah! where is all that tender sweetness laid?
To duft must all that heav'n of beauty come!
And muft Paftora moulder in the tomb!
Ah, Death! more fierce and unrelenting far
Than wildeft wolves or favage tigers are;
With lambs and fheep their hungers are appeas'd,
But rav'nous Death the Shepherdefs has feiz'd. 196
"I mourn Paftora dead, let Albion mourn,
"And fable clouds her chalky cliffs adorn."
But fee, Menalcas, where a fudden light
With wonder stops my fong and ftrikes my fight,
And where Paftora lies it spreads around,
Showing all-radiant bright the facred ground,
While from her tomb behold a flame afcends
Of whiteft fire, whofe flight to heav'n extends;
On flaky wings it mounts, and quick as fight
Cuts thro' the yielding air with rays of light,
Till the blue firmament at last it gains,
And fixing there a glorious ftar remains;
"Faireft it fhines of all that light the skies,
"As once on earth were seen Paftora's eyes." 210
Infcribed to the Right Hon.
THE LORD GODOLPHIN,
LORD HIGH-TREASURER OF ENGLAND.
Qualis populea mærens Philomela fub umbra
Amiffos queritur fetus
miferabile earmen
Integrat, et moeflis late loca quæftibus implet. VIRG.Georg. 4.
'Twas at the time when new-returning light
With welcome rays begins to cheer the fight,
When grateful birds prepare their thanks to pay,
And warble hymns to hail the dawning day,
When woolly flocks their bleating cries renew,
And from their fleecy sides first shake the filver dew;
'Twas then that Amaryllis, heav'nly fair! Wounded with grief, and wild with her defpair, Forfook her myrtle bow'r and rofy bed,
To tell the winds her woes,and mourn Amyntas dead.
Who had a heart so hard, that heard her cries,
And did not weep? who such relentless eyes?
Tigers and wolves their wonted rage forego,
And dumb diftrefs and new compassion show,
As taught by her to tafte of human wo:
Nature herself attentive filence kept,
And Motion feem'd suspended while fhe wept ;
The rifing Sun restrain'd his fiery course,
And rapid Rivers listen'd at their source;
Ev'n Echo fear'd to catch the flying found,
Left Repetition should her accents drown;
The very Morning Wind withheld his breeze,
Nor fann'd with fragrant wings the noiseless trees,
As if the gentle Zephyr had been dead,
And in the grave with lov'd Amyntas laid:
No voice, no whisp'ring figh, no murm'ring groan,
Prefum'd to mingle with a mother's moan;
Her cries alone her anguish could express,
All other mourning would have made it less.
Hear me, fhe cry'd, ye Nymphs and Sylvan Gods! Inhabitants of these once-lov'd abodes;
Hear my diftrefs, and lend a pitying ear,
Hear my complaint-you would not hear my pray❜r:
The lofs which you prevented not deplore,
And mourn with me Amyntas, now no more.
Have I not cause, ye cruel Pow'rs! to mourn?
Lives there like me another wretch forlorn?
Tell me, thou Sun! that round the world dost shine,
Haft thou beheld another lofs like mine?
Ye Winds! who on your wings fad accents bear, 40
And catch the founds of forrow and despair,
Tell me if e'er your tender pinions bore
Such weight of wo, fuch deadly fighs, before?
Tell me, thou Earth! on whose wide-spreading base
The wretched load is laid of human race,
Doft thou not feel thyself with me opprest ?
Lie all the dead so heavy on thy breast?
When hoary Winter on thy fhrinking head
His icy, cold, depreffing hand, has laid,
Haft thou not felt lefs chilnefs in thy veins?
Do I not pierce thee with more freezing pains?
But why to thee do I relate my wo,
Thou cruel Earth! my most remorfeless foe,
Within whofe darksome womb the grave is made,
Where all my joys are with Amyntas laid?
What is 't to me tho' on thy naked head
Eternal Winter fhould his horrour fhed,
Tho' all thy nerves were numb'd with endless froft,
And all thy hopes of future fpring were loft?
To me what comfort can the fpring afford?
Can my Amyntas he with spring reftor'd?
Can all the rains that fall from weeping skies
Unlock the tomb where my Amyntas lies?
No: never! never!Say, then, rigid Earth!
What is to me thy everlafting dearth?
Tho' never flow'r again its head fhould rear,
Tho' never tree again should bloffom bear,
Tho' never grafs fhould clothe the naked ground, Nor ever healing plant or wholesome herb be found? None,none were found when I bewail'd their want; 70 Nor wholesome herb was found nor healing plant, To eafe Amyntas of his cruel pains;
In vain I fearch'd the vallies, hills, and plains;
But wither'd leaves alone appear'd to view,
Or pois'nous weeds, distilling deadly dew;
And if fome naked italk, not quite decay'd,
To yield a fresh and friendly bud essay'd,
Soon as I reach'd to crop the tender shoot,
A fhrieking mandrake kill'd it at the root.
Witness to this, ye Fawns of ev'ry wood!
Who at the prodigy astonish'd stood;
Well I remember what fad figns ye made,
What fhow'rs of unavailing tears ye thed;
How each ran fearful to his moffy cave,
When the last gafp the dear Amyntas gave:
For then the air was fill'd with dreadful cries,
And fudden night o'erfpread the darken'd skies;
Phantoms, and fiends, and wand'ring fires, appear'd,
And screams of ill-prefaging birds were heard ;
The foreft fhook, and flinty rocks were cleft,
And frighted ftreams their wonted channels left,
With frantick grief o'crflowing fruitful ground,
Where many a herd and harmless swain was drown'd,
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