And is there magic but what dwells in love?

Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful ftrains! I'll fly from shepherds, flocks, and flow'ry plains.From shepherds, flocks, and plains, I may remove, Forfake mankind, and all the world- but love! I know thee, Love! wild as the raging main, More fell than tygers on the Lybian plain : Thou wert from Ætna's burning entrails tổn, Got by fierce whirlwinds, and in thunder born! Refound, ye hills, refourd my mournful lay! Farewell, ye woods! adieu the light of day! One leap from yonder cliff shall end my pains. No more, ye hills, no more refound my strains! Thus fung the shepherds till th'approach of night, The skies yet blushing with departing light, When falling dews with fpangies deck'd the glade, And the low fun had lengthen'd ev'ry shade,

WINTER.

WINTER,

THE FOURTH PASTORAL.

To the memory of Mrs. Tempeft.

LY CID A S.

THYRSIS! the mufic of that murm'ring

Spring

Is not fo mournful as the strains you fing;
Nor rivers, winding thro' the vales below,
So fweetly warble, or so smoothly flow.
Now fleeping flocks on their foft fleeces lie;
The moon, ferene in glory, mounts the sky;
While filent birds forget their tuncful lays,
Oh fing of Daphne's fate, and Daphne's praise!

THYRS I S.

Behold the groves that shine with filver froft, Their beauty wither'd, and their verdure lost. Here shall i try the sweet Alexis' ftrain,

That call'd the lift'ning Dryads to the plain? Thames heard the numbers as he flow'd along, And bade his willows learn the moving fong.

So

may

LYCIDA S.

kind rains their vital moisture yeld, And fwell the future harveft of thy field.

B

Begin; this charge the dying Daphne gave,
And faid: » Ye shepherds, fing around my grave! <<
Sing, while befide the shaded tomb i mourn
And with fresh bays her rural shrine adorn.

THYRS I S.

Ye, gentle Mufes, leave your crystal spring; Let Nymphs and Sylvans cypress garlands bring; Ye, weeping Loves, the ftream with myrtles hide, And break your bows, as when Adonis dy'd; And with your golden darts, now useless grown, Infcribe a verfe on this relenting stone:

» Let Nature change, let heav'n and earth deplore,
>> Fair Daphne's dead, and Love is now no more!
'Tis done, and Nature's various charms decay.
See gloomy clouds obfcure the chearful day;
Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear,
Their faded honours fcatter'd on her bier.
See, where on earth the flow'ry glories lie,
With her they flourish'd, and with her they die.
Ah! what awail the beauties nature wore ?
Fair Daphne's dead, and beauty is no more!
For her, the flocks refuse their verdant food
The thirsty heifers shun the gliding flood;

The filver fwans her haplefs fate bemoan,

In notes more fad than when they fing their own; In hollow caves fweet Echo filent lies,

Silent, or only to her name replies;

Her name with pleasure once she taught the shore, Now Daphne's dead, and pleasure is no more!

No grateful dews descend from ev'ning skies,
Nor morning odours from the flow'rs arise;
No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field,
Nor fragrant herbs their native incenfe yield.
The balmy zephirs, fileut fince her death,
Lament the ceafing of a sweeter breath;
Th' industrious bees neglect their golden ftore ;
Fair Daphne's dead, and sweetness is no more!

No more the mounting larks, while Daphne fings, Shall lift'ning in mid air fufpend their wings; No more the nightingales repeat her lays, Or hush'd with wonder, hearken from the sprays; Nor more the ftreams their murmurs shall forbear, A fweeter mufic than their own to hear; But tell the reeds, and tell the vocal shore: Fair Daphne's dead and music is no more! Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze, And told in fighs to all the trembling trees; The trembling trees, in ev'ry plain and wood, Her fate remurmur to the filver flood; The filver flood, fo lately calm, appears Swell'd with new paffion, and o'erflows with tears. The winds and trees and floods her death deplore: Daphne, our grief! Our glory now no more!

But fee! where Daphne wond'ring mounts on high Above the clouds, above the starry sky! Eternal beauties grace the shining scene, Fields ever fresh, and groves for ever green!

There while you reft in amaranthine bow'rs,
Or from those meads fele&t unfading flow'rs,
Behold us kindly who your name implore,

Daphne, our Goddess, and our grief no more!

LY CID A S.

How all things liften, 'while thy Muse complains! Such filence waits on Philomela's strains, In fome ftill ev'ning, when the whifp'ring breeze Pants on the leaves, and dies upon the trees. To thee, bright Goddess, ofť a lamb shall bleed, If teeming ewes encrease my fleecy breed. While plants their shade, or flow'rs their odours give, Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise shall live!

THYRS I S.

See, pale Orion sheds unwholesome dews, Arife, the pines a noxious shade diffuse; Sharp Boreas blows, and Nature feels decay, Time conquers all, and we must Time obey. Adieu ye vales, ye mountains, ftreams and groves, Adieu ye shepherd's rural lays and loves, Adieu my flocks, farewell ye fylvan crew, Daphne farevell, and all the world adieu.

MESSIAH,