This page has been validated.
PASTORALS.
25
Thou, whom the Nine with Plautus' wit inspire,
The art of Terence, and Menander's fire,
Whose sense instructs us, and whose humour charms,
Whose judgment sways us, and whose rapture warms!
Attend the Muse, tho' low her numbers be,
She sings of friendship, and she sings to thee.
Now setting Phœbus shone serenely bright,
And fleecy clouds were streak'd with purple light;
When tuneful Hylas with melodious moan
Taught rocks to weep, and made the mountains groan.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
To Thyrsis' ear the tender notes convey!
As some sad Turtle his lost Love deplores,
And with deep murmurs fills the sounding shores;
Thus, far from Thyrsis, to the winds I mourn,
Alike unheard, unpity'd, and forlorn.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along!
For him the feather'd quires neglect their song;
For him the Limes their pleasing shades deny;
For him the Lillies hang their heads and die.
The art of Terence, and Menander's fire,
Whose sense instructs us, and whose humour charms,
Whose judgment sways us, and whose rapture warms!
Attend the Muse, tho' low her numbers be,
She sings of friendship, and she sings to thee.
Now setting Phœbus shone serenely bright,
And fleecy clouds were streak'd with purple light;
When tuneful Hylas with melodious moan
Taught rocks to weep, and made the mountains groan.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
To Thyrsis' ear the tender notes convey!
As some sad Turtle his lost Love deplores,
And with deep murmurs fills the sounding shores;
Thus, far from Thyrsis, to the winds I mourn,
Alike unheard, unpity'd, and forlorn.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along!
For him the feather'd quires neglect their song;
For him the Limes their pleasing shades deny;
For him the Lillies hang their heads and die.
Ye
