GRATITUDE. A PASTORAL. Stephen Duck Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T90234 K073280.000 Duck, Stephen, 1705-1756. Poems on several occasions: By Stephen Duck. London printed for the author 1736 pp. 47-53. xl,334,[2]p. ; 4⁰.

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GRATITUDE . A PASTORAL . MENALCAS , COLIN . MENALCAS . FRiend COLIN ! well o'ertook . I have of late Observ'd thy chearful Mien , and airy Gait : Say , what auspicious Change , since t'other Day , When by thy lonely Cot I took my Way ? Sorrow and Sadness then o'erspread thy Brows , And ev'ry Look did gloomy Cares disclose : Now Joys diffusive in thy Aspect rise , And Mirth and Gladness sparkle in thy Eyes . COLIN . WHERE hast thou liv'd , MENALCAS , not to know , Whose gen'rous Bounty has remov'd my Woe ? I thought , the gracious CAROLINA's Name , Ere this , had fill'd the sounding Trump of Fame . MENALCAS . THAT gracious Name the World is bound to bless ; All grateful Swains her gen'rous Deeds confess : But , COLIN , say , has she remov'd thy Care ? I'm happy , when thy Happiness I hear . COLIN . O You , MENALCAS , know my abject Birth , Born in a Cot , and bred to till the Earth ; On rigid Worldlings always doom'd to wait , Forc'd at their frugal Hands my Bread to get : But when my Wants to CAROLINE were known , She bless'd me with a Pasture of my own . This makes new Pleasures in my Bosom glow ; These joyful Looks I to her Bounty owe . MENALCAS . AND may kind Heav'n reward that gracious QUEEN , Who to thy Wants has so propitious been ! Yet , tho' her Bounty has thy Wants supply'd , Let not her Bounty e'er exalt thy Pride ; But keep an humble Mind , a grateful Heart ; Her Favours far exceed thy own Desert : Heav'n mov'd the Goodness of the Royal Dame ; And Heav'n and She thy Gratitude must claim . COLIN . WHEN me she first into her Favour took , I cut this oaken Staff , ( 'tis now my Crook ) And grav'd her Royal Bounty in the Rind ; But grav'd it deeper in my grateful Mind : The Letters in the Staff may wear away ; Those written in my Soul shall ne'er decay . MENALCAS . SO may thy little Flock increase their Tale ; So may thy Field of Pasture never fail ; May Heav'n and She , in just Proportion , still Or smile , or frown , as thou art good , or ill . COLIN . MAY hungry Foxes kill my tender Lambs , May pois'nous Serpents suck their bleating Dams ; And may my Cows distended Udders fail , Elude my Hopes , and never fill the Pail ; In short , ( to make my Curse the more complete , Tho' 'tis the only Thing I dread and hate ) May Heav'n and Heav'nly CAROLINE remove Their Smiles , if COLIN e'er ungrateful prove . MENALCAS . THY Thanks and Pray'rs her gen'rous Soul will please ; A Tribute justly due , and paid with Ease : Sometimes a Song perhaps she may require ; And thou to sing but lately didst aspire ; When in an abject , low , laborious State , Sunk deep in Cares , and press'd beneath their Weight ; Then ( so , at least , 'tis said among our Swains ) In Sonnets COLIN charm'd away his Pains : Much sooner now thou may'st a Song rehearse , Whene'er she condescends to hear thy Verse . COLIN . O Friend ! too well you know , my simple Strains Are far inferior to each rural Swain's : Yet , since Great CAROLINA thinks no Scorn , To patronize a Shepherd meanly born ; Henceforth I'll strive to raise my Voice sublime , And with her Royal Name adorn my Rhyme ; I'll on each verdant Mountain sing her Praise , And vocal Groves shall echo to my Lays ; To ev'ry Swain her Godlike Worth proclaim , Nor ever drop the pleasing glorious Theme . MENALCAS . THEN , since we're met , where friendly Branches spread , And trembling Leaves diffuse a cooling Shade ; Since , on the Sprays , the Thrush and Finch rejoice , Invoke thy Muse , and tune thy rural Voice . COLIN . ANOTHER Day my rural Voice I'll raise , Another Day the Muse shall tune her Lays : But now , alas ! such crowding Joys I find , No Words can speak the Transports of my Mind . Would PHOEBUS warm me with poetic Fire , Or would the Mantuan Muse my Tongue inspire ; As Great ELIZA shone in SPENCER's Line , The Greater CAROLINA should in mine ; Then would I emulate the tuneful Throng , And with her glorious Name immortalize my Song .