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THE PROGRESS OF LOVE, IN FOUR ECLOGUES.

1. Uncertainty. To Mr. Pope.

2. Hope. To the hon. George Doddington. 5. Jealousy. To Edward Walpole, esq.

4. Possession. To the right hon. the lord viscount Cobham.

UNCERTAINTY.

ECLOGUE I.

TO MR. POPE,

"Ye nymphs," he cried, "ye Dryads, who so long Have favour'd Damon, and inspir'd his song; For whom, retir'd, I shun the gay resorts Of sportful cities, and of pompous courts; In vain I bid the restless world adieu, To seek tranquillity and peace with you. Though wild Ambition and destructive Rage No factions here can forin, no wars can wage: Though Envy frowns not on your bumble shades, Nor Calumny your innocence invades : Yet cruel Love, that troubler of the breast, Too often violates your boasted rest; With inbred storms disturbs your calm retreat, And taints with bitterness each rural sweet.

"Ah, luckless day! when first with fond surprise On Delia's face I fix'd my eager eyes! Then in wild tumults all my soul was tost, Then reason, liberty, at once were lost:

And every wish, and thought, and care, was gone, But what my heart employ'd on her alone.

The nymphs of Thames a pleas'd attention paid; While yet thy Muse, content with humbler praise, Warbled in Windsor's grove her sylvan lays; Though now, sublimely borne on Homer's wing Of glorious wars and godlike chiefs she sing: Wilt thou with me revisit once again The crystal fountain, and the flowery plain? Wilt thou, indulgent, hear my verse relate The various changes of a lover's state; And, while each turn of passion I pursue, Ask thy own heart if what I tell be true?

To the green margin of a lonely wood,
Whose peudent shades o'erlook'd a silver flood,
Young Damon came, unknowing where he stray'd,
Full of the image of his beauteous maid:
His flock, far off, unfed, untended, lay,
To every savage a defenceless prey;

No sense of interest could their master move,
And every care seem'd trifling now but love.
A while in pensive silence he remain'd,
But, though his voice was mute, his looks complain'd;
At length the thoughts within his bosom pent
Forc'd his unwilling tongue to give them vent.

Those lovely children of Content and Joy!
How can soft pleasure and tormenting woe
From the same spring at the same moment flow:
Unhappy boy these vain inquiries cease,
Thought could not guard, nor will restore, thy peace:
Indulge the frenzy that thou must endure,
And sooth the pain thou know'st not how to cure.
Come, flattering Memory! and tell my heart
How kind she was, and with what pleasing art
She strove its fondest wishes to obtain,
Confirm her power, and faster bind my chain.
If on the green we danc'd, a mirthful band;
To me alone she gave her willing hand:
Her partial taste, if e'er I touch'd the lyre,
Still in my song found something to admire.
By none but her my crook with flowers was crown'd,
By none but her my brows with ivy bound:
The world, that Damon was her choice, believ'd,
The world, alas! like Damon, was deceiv'd.
When last I saw her, and declar'd my fire
In words as soft as passion could inspire,
Coldly she heard, and full of scorn withdrew,
Without one pitying glance, one sweet adien.

The frighted hind, who sees his ripen'd corn
Up from the roots by sudden tempests torn,
Whose fairest hopes destroy'd and blasted lie,
Feels not so keen a pang of grief as 1.
Ah, how have I deserv'd, inhuman maid,
To have my faithf I service thus repaid?
Were all the marks of kindness I receiv'd,
But dreams of joy, that charm'd me and deceiv'd?
Or did you only nurse my growing love,
That with more pain I might your hatred prove?
Sure guilty treachery no place could find
In such a gentle, such a generous mind:

A maid brought up the woods and wilds among
Could ne'er have learnt the art of courts so young:
No; let me rather think her anger feign'd,
Still let me hope my Delia may be gain'd;
'Twas only modesty that seem'd disdain,
And her heart suffer'd when she gave me pain."
Pleas'd with this flattering thought, the lovesick
Felt the faint dawning of a doubtful joy;
Back to his flock more cheerful he return'd,
When now the setting Sun more fiercely burn'd,
Blue vapours rose along the nazy rills,
And light's last blushes ting'd the distant hills.

HOPE.

ECLOGUE II.

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TO MR. DODDINGTON, AFTERWARDS LORD MELCOMBE REGIS.

HEAR, Doddington, the notes that shepherds sing,
Like those that warbling hail the genial Spring.
Nor Pan, nor Phoebus, tunes our artless reeds:
From Love alone their melody proceeds.
From Love, Theocritus, on Enna's plains,
Learnt the wild sweetness of his Doric strains.
Young Maro, touch'd by his inspiring dart,
Could charm each ear, and soften every heart:
Me too his power has reach'd, and bids with thine
My rustic pipe in pleasing concert join 1.

Damon no longer sought the silent shade,
No more in unfrequented paths he stray'd,
Bu call'd the swains to hear his jocund song,
And told his joy to all the rural throng.

"L'est be the hour," he said, “that happy hour,
When first I own'd my Delia's gentle power;
Thea loomy discontent and pining care
Torsook my breast, and left soft wishes there;
Soft wishes there they left, and gay desires,
Delightful languors, and transporting fires.
Where yonder limes combine to form a shade,
These eyes first gaz'd upon the charming maid;
There she appear'd, on that auspicions day,
When swains their sportive rites to Bacchus pay:
She led the dance-Heavens! with what grace she
movid!

Who could have seen her then, an 1 not have lov'd?
I trove not to resist so sweet a flame,
But gloried in a happy captive's name ;
Nor would I now, could Love permit, be free,
But leave to brutes their savage liberty.

"And art thou then, fond youth, secure of joy? Can no reverse thy flattering bliss destroy? Has treacherous Love no torment yet in store? Or hast thou never prov'd his fatal power? Whence flow'd those tears that late bedew'd thy check?

Why sigh'd thy heart as if it strove to break?
Why were the desert rocks invok'd to hear
The plaintive accent of thy sad despair?
From Delia's rigour all those pains arose,
Delia, who now compassionates my woes,
Who bids me hope; and in that charming word
Has peace and transport to my soul restord.
Begin my pipe, begin the gladsome lay;
A kiss from Delia shall thy music pay;
A kiss obtain'd 'twixt struggling and consent,
Given with fore'd anger, and disguis'd content.
No laureat wreaths I ask, to bind my brows,
Such as the Muse on lofty bards bestows:
Let other swains to praise or fame aspire;
I from her lips my recompense require.

Why stays my Delia in her seert bower? Light gales have chas'd the late impending shower; Th' emerging San more bright his beams extends; Oppos'd, its beauteous arch the rainbow bends! Glad youths and maidens turn the new-made hay: The birds renew their songs on every spray! Come forth, any love, thy shepherd's joys to crown: All nature smiles.-Will-only Delia frown?

Hark how the bees with murmurs fill the plain, While every flower of every sweet they drain: See, how beneath yon hillock's shady steep, The shelter'd herds on flowery couches sleep; Nor bees, nor herds, are half so blest as I, If with my fond desires my love comply; From Delia's lips a sweeter honey flows, And on her bosom dwells more soft repose.

"Ah! how, my dear, shall I deserve thy charms?
What gift can bribe thee to my longing arms?
A bird for thee in silken bands I hold,
Whose yellow plumage shines like polish'd gold;
From distant isles the lovely stranger came,
And bears the fortunate Canaries name;
In all our woods none boasts so sweet a note,
Not ev'n the nightingale's melodious threat.
Accept of this; and could I add beside
What wealth the rich Peruvian mountains hide :
If all the gems in castern rocks were mine,
On thee alone their glittering pride should shine.
But, if thy taind no gifts have power to move,
Phabus himself shall leave th' Aonian grove:
The tumeful Nine, who never sue in vam,
Shall come sweet suppliants for their favourite
swain.

For him each bluc-ey'd Naiad of the flood,
For him each green-hair'd sister of the wood,
Whom oft beneath fair Cynthia's gentle ray
His music calls to dance the night away.
And you, fair nymphs, companions of my love,
With whom she joys the cowslip meads to rove,
I beg you, recommend my faithful flame,
And let her often hear her shepherd's name :
Shade all my faul's from her inquiring <'ght,
And show my merits in the fairest light;
My pipe your kind assistance shall repty,
And every friend shall claim a diferent lay.
"Put see! m yonder glade the heavenly far
Enjoys the fra. Lance of the breezy air
th, thither let me fly with cager feet;
Adion, my pipe; I go my love to meet-

O, may I find her as we parted last,
And may each future hour be like the past!
So shall the whitest lamb these pastures feed,
Propitious Venus, on thy altars bleed."

JEALOUSY.

ECLOGUE III.

TO MR. EDWARD WALPOLE.

THE gods, O Walpole, give no bliss sincere ;
Wealth is disturb'd by care, and power by fear:
Of all the passions that employ the mind,
In gentle love the sweetest joys we find:
Yet ev'n those joys dire Jealousy molests,
And blackens each fair image in our breasts.
O may the warmth of thy too tender heart
Ne'er feel the sharpness of his venom'd dart!
For thy own quiet, think thy mistress just,
And wisely take thy happiness on trust.

Begin, my Muse, and Damon's woes rehearse, In wildest numbers and disorder'd verse.

On a romantic mountain's airy head (While browzing goats at ease around him fed) Anxions he lay, with jealous cares opprest; Distrust and anger labouring in his breastThe vale beneath a pleasing prospect yields Of verdant meads and cultivated fields; Through these a river rolls its winding flood, Adorn'd with various tufts of rising wood; Here, half conceal'd in trees, a cottage stands, A castle there the opening plain commands; Beyond, a town with glittering spires is crown'd, And distant hills the wide horizon bound: So charming was the scene, a while the swain Beheld delighted, and forgot his pain: But soon the stings infix'd within his heart With cruel force renew'd their raging smart: His flowery wreath, which long with pride he wore, The gift of Delia, from his brows he tore, Then cried, "May all thy charms, ungrateful maid, Like these neglected roses, droop and fade! May angry Heaven deform each guilty grace, That triumphs now in that deluding face! Those alter'd looks may every shepherd fly, And ev'n thy Daphnis hate thee worse than I!

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Say, thou inconstant, what has Damon done,
To lose the heart his tedious pains had won?
Tell me what charms you in my rival find,
Against whose power no ties have strength to bind?
Has he, like me, with long obedience strove
To conquer your disdain, and merit love?
Has he with transport every smile ador'd,
And died with grief at each ungentle word?
Ah, no! the conquest was obtain'd with ease;
He pleas'd you, by not studying to please:
His careless indolence your pride alarm'd;
And, had he lov'd you more, he less had charm'd.
"O pain to think! another shall possess
Those balmy lips which I was wont to press :
Another on her panting breast shall lie,
And catch sweet madness from her swimming eye!-
I saw their friendly flocks together feed,

I saw them hand in hand walk o'er the mead:
Would my clos'd eye had sunk in endless night,
Ere I was doom'd to bear that hateful sight!
Where'er they pass'd, be blasted every flower,
And hungry wolves their helpless flocks devour! —

Ah, wretched swain, could no examples move
Thy heedless heart to shun the rage of love?
Hast thou not heard how poor Menalcas died
A victim to Parthenia's fatal pride?

Dear was the youth to all the tuneful plain,
Lov'd by the nymphs, by Phoebus lov'd in vain :
Around his tomb their tears the Muses paid;
And all things mourn'd, but the relentless maid.
Would I could die like him, and be at peace?
These torments in the quiet grave would cease;
There my vex'd thoughts a calm repose would find,
And rest, as if my Delia still were kind.

No, let me live, her falsehood to upbraid:
Some god perhaps my just revenge will aid.-
Alas! what aid, fond swain, wouldst thou receive?
Could thy heart bear to see its Delia grieve?
Protect her, Heaven! and let her never know
The slightest part of hapless Damon's woe:
I ask no vengeance from the powers above;
All I implore is never more to love.-
Let me this fondness from my bosom tear,
Let me forget that e'er I thought her fair.
Come, cool Indifference, and heal my breast;
Wearied, at length, I seek thy downy rest:
No turbulence of passion shall destroy
My future ease with flattering hopes of joy.
Hear, mighty Pan, and, all ye sylvans, hear
What by your guardian deities I swear;
No more my eyes shall view her fata! charms,
No more I'll court the traitoress to my arms;
Not all her arts my steady soul shall move,
And she shall find that reason conquers love!”—
Scarce had he spoke, when through the lawn below
Alone he saw the beauteous Delia go;
At once transported, he forgot his vow,
(Such perjuries the laughing gods allow!)
Down the steep hills with ardent haste he flew;
He found her kind, and soon believ'd her truc.

POSSESSION.

ECLOGUE IV.

TO LORD COBHAM.

COBHAM, to thee this rural lay I bring,
Whose guiding judgment gives me skill to sing :
Though far unequal to those polish'd strains,
With which thy Congreve charm'd the listening
plains:

Yet shall its music please thy partial ear,

And sooth thy breast with thoughts that once were

dear;

Recall those years which time has thrown behind,
When smiling Love with Honour shar'd thy mind:
When all thy glorious days of prosperous fight
Delighted less than one successful night.
The sweet remembrance shall thy youth restore,
Fauey again shall run past pleasures o'er ;
And, while in Stowe's enchanting walks you stray,
This theme may help to cheat the summer's day.
Beneath the covert of a myrtle wood,
To Venus rais'd, a rustic altar stood.
To Venus and to Hymen, there combin'd,
In friendly league to favour human-kind.
With wanton Cupids, in that happy shade,
The gentle Virtues and mild Wisdom play'd.

See Mr. Gay's Dione.

Nor there in sprightly Pleasure's genial train,
Lurk'd sick Disgust, or late-repenting Pain,
Nor Force, nor Interest, join'd unwilling hands,
But Love consenting tied the blissful bands.
Thither, with glad devotion, Damon came,
To thank the powers who bless'd his faithful flame:
Two milk-white doves he on their altar laid,
And thus to both his grateful homage paid:
'Hail, bounteous god! before whose hallow'd shrine
My Delia vow'd to be for ever mine,
While, glowing in her cheeks, with tender love,
Sweet virgin modesty reluctant strove!
And hail to thee, fair queen of young desires!
Long shall my heart preserve thy pleasing fires,
Since Delia now can all its warmth return,
As fondly languish, and as fiercely burn.

"O the dear bloom of last propitious night!
O shade more charming than the fairest light!
Then in my arms I clasp'd the melting maid,
Then all my pains one moment overpaid;
Then first the sweet excess of bliss I prov'd,
Which none can taste but who like me have lov'd.
Thou too, bright goddess, once, in Ida's grove,
Didst not disdain to meet a shepherd's love;
With him, while frisking lambs around you play'd,
Conceal'd you sported in the secret shade:
Scarce could Anchises' raptures equal mine,
And Delia's beauties only yield to thine.
"What are ye now, my once most valued joys?
Insipid trifles all, and childish toys-
Friendship itself ne'er knew a charm like this,
Nor Colin's talk could please like Delia's kiss.

"Ye Muses, skill'd in every winning art, Teach me more deeply to engage her heart; Ye nymphs, to her your freshest roses bring, And crown her with the pride of all the Spring: On all her days let health and peace attend; May she ne'er want, nor ever lose, a friend! May some new pleasure every hour employ: But let her Damon be her highest joy!

"With thee, my love, for ever will I stay, All night caress thee, and admire all day; In the same field our mingled flocks we 'll feed, To the same spring our thirsty heifers lead, Together will we share the harvest toils, Together press the vine's autumnal spoils. Delightful state, where Peace and Love combine, To bid our tranquil days unclouded shine! Here limpid fountains roll through flowery meads; Here rising forests lift their verdant heads; Here let me wear my careless life away, And in thy arms insensibly decay.

"When late old age our heads shall silver o'er, And our slow pulses dance with joy no more; When Time no longer will thy beauties spare, And only Damon's eye shall think thee fair; Then may the gentle hand of welcome Death, At one soft stroke, deprive us both of breath! May we beneath one common stone be laid, And the same cypress both our ashes shade! Perhaps some friendly Muse, in tender verse, Shall deign our faithful passion to rehcarse And future ages, with just envy mov'd, Be told how Damon and his Delia lov'd."

SOLILOQUY

OF A BEAUTY IN THE COUNTRY.

WRITTEN AT ETON SCHOOL.

'Twas night; and Flavia, to her room retir'd,
With evening chat and sober reading tir'd;
There, melancholy, pensive, and alone,
She meditates on the forsaken town:
On her rais'd arm reclin'd her drooping head,
She sigh'd, and thus in plaintive accents said :
"Ah! what avails it to be young and fair;

To move with negligence, to dress with care? What worth have all the charms our pride can boast,

If all in envious solitude are lost?
Where none admire, 'tis useless to excel;
Where none are beaux, 'tis vain to be a belle;
Beauty, like wit, to judges should be shown;
Both most are valued, where they best are known.
With every grace of Nature or of Art,
We cannot break one stubborn country heart:
The brutes, insensible, our power defy :
To love, exceeds a 'squire's capacity.
The town, the court, is Beauty's proper sphere;
That is our Heaven, and we are angels there:
In that gay circle thousand Cupids rove,
The court of Britain is the court of Love.
How has my conscious heart with triumph glow'd,
How have my sparkling eyes their transport show'd,
At each distinguish'd birth-night ball, to see
The homage, due to empire, paid to me!
When every eye was fix'd on me alone,

And dreaded mine more than the monarch's

frown;

When rival statesmen for my favour strove,
Less jealous in their power than in their love.
Chang'd is the scene; and all my glories die,
Like flowers transplanted to a colder sky :
Lost is the dear delight of giving pain,
The tyrant joy of hearing slaves complain.
In stupid indolence my life is spent,
Supinely calm, and dully innocent:
Unblest I wear my useless time away;
Sleep (wretched maid!) all night, and dream all
day;

Go at set hours to dinner and to prayer
(For dullness ever must be regular.)
Now with mamma at tedious whist I play;
Now without scandal drink insipid tea;
Or in the garden breathe the country air,
Secure from meeting any tempter there;
From books to work, from work to books, I rove,
And am, alas! at leisure to improve!-
Is this the life a beauty ought to lead?
Were eyes so radiant only made to read?

These fingers, at whose touch ev'n age would glow,

Are these of use for nothing but to sew?
Sure erring Nature never could design
To form a housewife in a mould like mine!
O Venus, queen and guardian of the fair,
Attend propitious to thy votary's prayer:
Let me revisit the dear town again:
Let me be seen!—could I that wish obtain,
All other wishes my own power would gain."