FIVE PASTORAL ECLOGUES.

FIVE PASTORAL The scenes of these eclogues are supposed to lie among the shepherds oppressed by the war in Germany . ECLOGUES .

ECLOGUE I. LYCAS AND ALPHON . ALPHON . ARISE , my Lycas : in yon' woody wilds From a rough rock in deep enclosure hid Of thickest oaks , a gushing fountain falls , And pours its airy stream with torrent pure : Which late returning from the field at eve I found , invited by its dashing sound , As thro' the gloom it struck my passing ear . Thither I mean to drive our languid flocks ; Fit place to cool their thirst in mid-day hour . Due west it rises from that blasted beech ; The way but short : — come , Lycas , rouze thy dog ; Let us be gone . LYCAS . Alas , my friend , of flock , Of spring , or shepherd's lore , to me is vain To tell : my favourite lamb , the solace dear Of these grey locks , my sweet and sole delight , Is snatch'd by cruel fate ! An armed band , On neighing steeds elate , in wide array Trampled the youngling , as the vale along At eve they pass'd , beneath their whelming march . ALPHON . Such throng I heard , as in the neighbouring wood I wander'd to reduce a straggling ewe Escap'd the fold : what time the griesly owl Her shrieks began , and at the wonted elm The cows awaiting stood Lucilla's hand . When strait with sudden fear alarm'd I start , And listening to the distant-echoing steps Of unseen horsemen with attentive ear , I stand aloof . But why this deep-felt grief ? Merits such loss these tears and black despair ? LYCAS . Alphon , no more to Lycas now remains , Since he my last and latest care is lost ! Thou know'st my little flock ; three tender ewes Were all my mean ambition wish'd or sought . Even now nine days , and nine revolving nights Are past , since these the Moldaw's raging flood Swept with their wattled cotes , as o'er its banks It rose redundant , swoln with beating rains , And deep immers'd beneath its whirling wave . I wak'd at early dawn , and to the field I issu'd to pursue my wonted toil , When lo ! nor flocks , nor wattled cotes I saw ; But all that met my wondering eyes around , Was desolation sad . Here stateliest oaks Torn from their roots , with broken branches lay In hideous ruin : there the fields , that laugh'd With ripening corn , of all their charms despoil'd , With oozy fragments scatter'd waste and wild Were seen . I curst the wicked Spirit drear , That in the ruin'd abbey's darkest cell , ( That stands immur'd amid yon' lonesome piles ) I bound with triple chains : his magic power Oft-times with howling storms , and thunder loud , Deforms the night , and blackens Nature's face . His tempests swell'd the Moldaw's rising streams , And thus o'erwhelm'd my flock . — But this my heart Had learn'd to bear ; at length to Comfort's voice It had obey'd , and all its woes forgot ; When ah ! too soon returning woes invade My breast , just rising from its former stroke ; When this , the sole survivor of my flock , Follows his lost companions ; while a wretch I here remain , deserted and forlorn ! He too had dy'd beneath the whelming surge , Had not the shelter of my low-roof'd cott That fatal night preserv'd him ; where at eve I hap'ly plac'd him with providing care , Lest the fell storm , which yet from southern clouds Threaten'd destruction , and to lour began , Might violate his tender-blooming age . ALPHON . With piteous eye , and sympathizing heart , Thy tears I view . — These scenes of war and blood , The calm repose of every field invade ! Myself had fallen a victim to their rage , As in deep dead of night my cave beneath I lay dissolv'd in sleep , with warning voice Had not my dog alarm'd with wondering ear . When straight approach'd the cave a savage throng With barbarous arms , and habit fierce and wild , With stern demeanour and defying look Terrify ; which the moon's pale-glimmering rays Presented to my sight , as in the boughs , Close shrouded , of a neighbouring pine I sat ( Where sudden fear had driven me to evade Impending fate , unconscious and amaz'd ) Secure , but trembling , and in chilly damps My limbs bedew'd . — The monsters as they past , With dire confusion all the cavern fill'd ; Hurl'd to the ground my scrip , and beechen cup , Dispers'd the shaggy skins that form my bed , And o'er the trampled floor had scatter'd wide A hoard of choicest chesnuts , which I cull'd With nice-discerning care , and had design'd A present to my beauteous Rosalind . Alas ! with them her love had been obtain'd , And me to Myron she had then preferr'd ! LYCON . Shepherd , on thee has Fortune kindly smil'd ; Tis mine to feel her grief-inflicting hand ! Alas ! each object that I view around Recalls my perish'd darling to my sight , And mocks me with his loss ! See there the spring Where oft he wont to slake his eager thirst ! And there the beech , beneath whose breezy shade He lov'd to lie , close covert from the sun ! See yet the bark smooth-worn and bare remains , Where oft the youngling rubb'd his tender side ! Ah ! what avail'd my care , and foresight vain ? That day he fell oppress'd by whelming steeds , This hand had built a bower of thickest boughs Compos'd , and wove with intermingling leaves , Impervious to the sun ; and strew'd the floor With choicest hay , that in the secret shade He might repose , nor feel the dog-star's beam ! But why this sad , repeated track of woe I still pursue ? Farewel , my Alphon dear , To distant fields , and pastures will I go , Where impious War , and Discord , nurse of blood , Shall ne'er profane the silence of the groves .

ECLOGUE II . ACIS AND ALCYON . ACIS . WHILE in the bosom of this deep recess The voice of war has lost its madding shouts , Let us improve the transient hour of peace , And calm our troubled minds with mutual songs ; While this recess conspiring with the Muse Invites to peaceful thoughts ; this cavern deep , And these tall pines that nodding from the rock Wave o'er its mouth their umbrage black , and cast A venerable gloom , with this clear fount That cleaves the riven stone , and fills the cave With hollow-tinkling sounds . Repeat the song Which late , Alcyon , from thy mouth I heard , As to the spring we drove our thirsting flocks ; It tells the charms of grateful Evening mild : Begin , Alcyon : Acis in return Shall sing the praises of the dawning Morn . ALCYON . Behind the hills when sinks the western sun , And falling dews breathe fragrance thro' the air , Refreshing every field with coolness mild : Then let me walk the twilight meadows green , Or breezy up-lands , near thick-branching elms , While the still landscape sooths my soul to rest , And every care subsides to calmest peace : The mists slow-rising from the rivers dank , The woods scarce stirring at the whispering wind , The streaky clouds , that tinge their darken'd tops With russet hues , and fainter gleams of light , The solitude that all around becalms The peaceful air , conspire to wrap my soul In musings mild : and nought the solemn scene And the still silence breaks , but distant sounds Of bleating flocks , that to their destin'd fold The shepherd drives ; mean-time the shrill-tun'd bell Of some lone ewe that wanders from the rest , Tinkles far off , with solitary sound : The lowing cows that wait the milker's hand , The cottage-mastiff's bark , the joyous shouts Of swains that meet to wrestle on the green , Are heard around . But ah ! since ruthless war Has ravag'd in these fields , so tranquil once , Too oft alas , the din of clashing arms And discord fell disturbs the softer scene ! Thy sweet approach delights the wearied ox , While in loose traces from the furrow'd field He comes : thy dawn the weary reaper loves , Who long had sainted in the mid-day sun , Pleas'd with the cooler hour , along the vale Whistling he home returns to kiss his babes , With joyful heart , his labour's sweet reward ! But ah ! what sudden fears amaze his soul , When near approaching , all before he sees His lowly cottage and the village 'round Swept into ruin by the hand of war , Dispers'd his children , and his much-lov'd wife , No more to glad his breast with home felt-joys ! I too , when in my wattled cotes are laid My supping flock , rejoice to meet my dear , My fair Lauretta , at the wonted oak ; Or haply as her miking-pail she bears Returning from the field , to ease her arm , ( Sweet office ! ) and impart my aiding hand ! Thy charms ( O beauteous Evening ! ) shall be sung , As long as these tall pines shall wave their heads , Or this clear fountain cleave the riven stone ! ACIS . Sweet are the dews of Eve ; her fragrance sweet ; Sweet are the pine-topt hills at sultry noon ; Sweet is the shelter of the friendly grot To sheep , and shepherd , at impending storms ; But ah ! less sweet the fragrant dews of Eve ; Less sweet the pine-topt hills at sultry noon ; Less sweet the shelter of the friendly grots , Than when the rising sun with rosy beam Peeps o'er the village-top , and o'er the fields , The woods , the hills , the streams , and level meads , Scatters bright splendors and diffusive joy ! As to his flock the shepherd issues forth , Printing new footsteps in the dewy vale , Each object of the joyous scene around Vernal delight inspires , and glads his heart , Unknowing of the cause , with new-felt glee ! The chaunt of early birds on every bush , The steaming odours of the fresh-blown flowers — ALCYON . Cease , Acis , cease thy song : — from yonder hill , Whose lofty sides inclose this secret seat , Our flocks , that graze along its verdurous brow , Tumultuous rush , as struck with sudden fright : And hark , methinks I hear the deathful sounds Of war approaching , and its thunders roar ! ACIS . Kind heaven preserve my wife and children dear ! Alas ! I fear the sound , that louder now Swells in the wind , and comes with fuller din , Is near my cottage ; which , thou know'st , my friend , Stands at the spring , that issues from beneath That rising hill , fast by the branching elm ! ALCYON . See , see , my friend , what darksome spires arise Of wreathing smoak , and blacken all the sky ! — Nearer and nearer comes the threatening voice , And more distinguish'd strikes our trembling ear ! But lo ! the foes advance above the hill ; I see their glittering arms begin to gleam ! Come let us slie , and in the deepest nook , The inmost cavern of this winding grott , Close shroud ourselves , lest in the general stream Of thousands thronging down , we sall opprest .

ECLOGUE III . WHEN sable midnight on the fields and woods Had spread her mantle dark , then wander'd forth The pensive Alcon , and the bosom deep Of a wild wood with solitary steps , There to lament his wretched fate , he sought . Him , late as o'er the vale at coming eve Joyful he walk'd with his Lucilla dear , A soldier stern advancing on his steed , Robb'd of his love , and tore the beauteous maid With brutal hand from his contending arms , Weeping in vain , and shricking for his aid , And frowning bore the precious prize away . The wood , whose shades the plaintive shepherd sought , Was dark and pathless , and by neighbouring seet Long time untrod : for there in ancient days Two knights of bold emprise , and high renown , Met in fierce combat , to dispute the prize Of beauty bright , whose valiant arm should win A virgin fair , whose fair-emblazon'd charms With equal love had smote their rival breasts . The knight who fell beneath the victor's sword , Unhears'd and restless , from that fatal day Wanders the hated shades , a spectre pale ; And each revolving night , are heard to sound Far from the inmost bower of the deep wood , Loud shrieks , and hollow groans , and rattling chains . When the dark secrets of the grove he gain'd , Beneath an ancient oak his weary limbs He laid adown , and thus to plain began . This midnight deep to plaintive love accords ; This lonesome silence , and these hideous shades , That in this darksome hour I dare to tread , And all the horrors of this fearful place , Will suit a wretch , abandon'd to despair ! — But ah ! — what means this sudden fear , that creeps In chilly sweats o'er all my trembling limbs ? — What hollow whispering sounds are those I hear From yonder glade ? — Do not I hear his voice ? Does not the knight , that in these shades was slain , Call me to come , and beckon with his hand ? Do not I see his visionary sword Wav'd in bright circles thro' the murky air ? — Does not he point his wounds ? — Be still , my sears : 'Tis vain illusion all , and phantasie . These sears my love-distemper'd brain suggests : Alas , they will not bring me back my love ! — Who now , perhaps , amid the thronging camp On earth's cold breast reclines her weary head , A helpless virgin , subject to the will Of each rude ravisher , and distant far From her dear Alcon , and her native fields . — Ill will the hardships of inclement skies Suit with her tender limbs ; the various toils Of painful marches ; her unwonted ears How bear the trumpet , and the sounds of war : This task is hard indeed — but soon , alas ! At will her savage lord may cast her off , And leave her to succeeding scenes of woe ! I see my dear Lucilla , once my own , Naked and hungry , tread the pensive steps Of Desolation , doom'd to wander o'er , Helpless and vagabond , the friendless earth ! I hear her sigh for Alcon and her home ; And ask for bread at some proud palace-gate With unavailing voice ! This toilsome scene , Alas , how different from the smoother paths Of rural life my dear was wont to tread ! Forth to the field to bear the milking-pail Was all her wont ; to tread the tedded grass , To tend her father's flock , beneath the oak To snatch her dinner sweet , and on the green With the companions of her age to sport ! In vain I now expect the coming on Of dew-bath'd Eve , to meet my wonted love ; No more I hear the wood-girt vallies ring With her blythe voice , that oft has blest mine ear , As in the distant shade I sat unseen ; No more I meet her at the wonted spring , Where each revolving noon she daily went To fill her pitcher with the crystal flood ! — If in her native fields the hand of death Had snatch'd her from my arms , I could have born The fatal shoek with less repining heart ; For then I could have had one parting kiss ; I could have strewn her hearse with fairest flowers , And paid the last sad office to my dear ! — Return , my sweet Lucilla , to my arms ; At thy return , all Nature will rejoice . Together will we walk the verdant vales , And mingle sweet discourse with kisses sweet . Come , I will climb for thee the knotted oak , To rob the stock-dove of his feathery young ; I'll shew thee where the softest cowslips spring , And clustering nuts their laden branches bend ; Together will we taste the dews of morn ; Together seek the grotts at sultry noon ; Together from the field at eve return . — What have I said ? what painted scenes of bliss My vain imagination has display'd ! Alas , she's gone , ah , never to return ! Farewell my pasteral pipe , and my dear flock ; Farewell my faithful dog ; my once-lov'd haunts Farewell ; or cave , or fountain , or fresh shade , Farewell ; and thou , my low-rooft'd cott , farewell ! — Here will I lie , and fellest wolves , that roam This savage forest shall devour my limbs , Unwept , unburied , in a place unknown ! "

ECLOGUE IV . MYCON AND PHILANTHES . MYCON . WELCOME , Philanthes , to thy native fields ; Thrice three revolving moons are gone and past , Since first you parted from your father's cott , To drive to pastures far remote your flock . Since that , alas , how oft has savage war Disturb'd our dwellings , and defac'd our fields . PHILANTHES . Mycon , each object that I view around Speaks ruin and destruction . See , my friend , The ancient wood , whose venerable shades So oft have shelter'd us from noon-day suns ; So oft have echo'd to the lowing herds , That fed wide-wandering in the neighbouring vales , The soldier's ax has levell'd with the ground , And to the sun expos'd its darksome bowers : The distant villages , and blue-topt hills , The far-stretch'd meads appear , and meet mine eyes , That erst were intercepted by the grove . MYCON . How is the wonted face of all things chang'd ! Those trees , by whose aspiring tops we knew The sun's ascent at noon , unerring mark , No more are seen to tell the coming hour . How naked does the winding rill appear , Whose banks its pendant umbrage deep-imbrown'd , And far-invested with its arborous roof , As by its side it roll'd its secret streams ! How oft , alas ! those shadowy banks along ( Close solitude ! ) my Rosalind and I Have walk'd in converse sweet , and link'd in love ! But tell me , dear Philanthes , are the fields , Which late you left , like ours by war opprest , Alike in tumult and confusion wrapt ? PHILANTHES . Mycon , I'll tell thee wonders past belief . It happ'd one morn , when first the dawning sun Began to chear the light-enliven'd earth , Caught with so bright a scene , I sought the fields Before my wonted hour , and roving wide Among the vales , the villages and woods , Where'er my fancy led , or pleasure call'd , I chanc'd upon a neighbouring hill to stray , To view the glittering prospect from its top Of the broad Rhine , that roll'd his waves beneath , Amid the level of extended meads ; When It may be supposed that in these lines the shepherd is giving an account of Prince Charles's passing the Rhine . lo ! ere yet I gain'd its lofty brow , The sound of dashing floods , and dashing arms , And neighing steeds , confusive struck mine ear . Studious to know what tumult was at hand , With step adventurous I advanc'd , and gain'd With timorous care and cautious ken its top . Sudden a burst of brightness smote my sight , From arms , and all th' imblazonrie of war Reflected far , while steeds , and men , and arms Seem'd floating wide , and stretch'd in vast array O'er the broad bosom of the big-swoln flood , That dashing roll'd its beamy waves between . The banks promiscuous swarm'd with thronging troops : These on the flood embarking , those appear'd Crowding the adverse shore , already past . All was confusion , all tumultuous din . I trembled as I look'd , tho' far above , And in one blaze their arms were blended bright With the broad stream , while all the glistening scene The morn illum'd , and in one splendor clad . Struck at the sight , I lest with headlong haste The steep-brow'd hill , and o'er th' extended vales , The wood-girt lawns I ran , nor slack'd my pace , Till at my flock thick-panting I arriv'd , And drove far off , beneath a deep-arch'd cave . But come , my friend , inform me in return , Since this my absence what has here fell out . MYCON . Dost thou remember at the river side That solitary convent , all behind Hid by the covert of a mantling wood ? — One night , when all was wrapt in darkness deep , An armed troop , on rage and rapine bent , Pour'd o'er the fields and ravag'd all they met ; Nor did that sacred pile escape their arms , Whose walls the murderous band to ruin swept , And fill'd its caverns deep with armed throngs Greedy of spoil , and snatch'd their treasures old From their dark seats : the shrieking sisters fled Dispers'd and naked thro' the fields and woods , While sable night conceal'd their wandering steps . Part in my moss grown cottage shelter sought , Which haply scap'd their rage , in secret glade Immersed deep . — I rose at early morn , With fearful heart to view the ruin'd dome , Where all was desolation , all appear'd The seat of horror , and devouring war . The deep recesses , and the gloomy nooks , The vaulted isles , and shrines of imag'd saints , The caverns worn by holy knees appear'd , And to the sun were op'd . — In musing thought I said , as on the pile I bent my brow — " This seat to future ages will appear , " Like that which stands fast by the piny rock ; " These silent walls with ivy shall be hung , " And distant times shall view the sacred pile , " Unknowing how it fell , with pious awe ! " The pilgrim here shall visit , and the swain " Returning from the field at twilight grey , " Shall shun to pass this way , subdued by fear , " And slant his course across the adverse vale ! " PHILANTHES . Mycon , thou see'st that cow , which stands in cool Amid yon rushy lake , beneath the shade Of willow green , and ruminates at ease The watry herbage that around her floats . That way my business leads . I go to greet My father , and my wonted cottage dear . MYCON . Come , let us go : my path is that way too . Come , my Philanthes , and may piteous heaven Indulge more happy days , and calm our griefs ! Alas ! I thought some trouble was at hand , And long before presag'd the coming storm , Even when the lightning one disastrous night Blasted the hoary oak , whose ample boughs Imbower my cottage ; and as on the grass At noon I slept , a serpent's sudden hiss Broke my sweet rest ! — But come , let us be gone , The sun begins to welk in ruddy west .

ECLOGUE V. CORIN AND CALISTAN . CORIN . WHICH way , Calistan , whither dost thou lead That lamb , whom yet his mother scarce has wean'd ? CALISTAN . His mother , Corin , as she wandering fed , With this tender youngling by her side , Fell by a shot which from the battle came , That in the neighbouring fields so lately rag'd . CORIN . Alas ! What woes that fatal day involv'd Our suffering village , and the fields around ! But come , Calistan , on this rising bank , Come , let us sit , and on the danger past Converse secure , and number all our griefs . See how the flaunting woodbine shades the bank , And weaves a mantling canopy above ! CALISTAN . Corin , that day I chanc'd at earlier hour To rise , and drove far-off my flock unpent ; To wash them in a spring that late I mark'd . There the first motions of the deathful day I heard , as listening to the trickling wave I stood attentive : when like rising storms , Hoarse , hollow murmurs from afar I heard , And undistinguish'd sounds of distant din . Alarm'd I stood , unknowing whence it came ; And from the fount my flock unwash'd I drove Suspecting danger : when as nearer yet , I came advancing , all was tumult loud , All was tempestuous din on every side , And all around the roar of war was up , From rock to rock retost , from wood to wood . Not half so loud the tumbling cataract Is heard to roar , that from the pine-clad cliff Precipitates its waves ; whose distant sounds I oft have listen'd , as at twilight grey I pent my flocks within their wattled cotes . CORIN . For three revolving days , nor voice of bird Melodious chaunting , or the bleat of sheep , Or lowing oxen , near the fatal place Were heard to sound ; but all was silence sad ! The ancient grove of elms deserted stood , Where long had dwelt an aged race of rooks , That with their nests had crowded every branch , We oft have heard them at the dusk of eve In troops returning to their well known home , In mingled clamours sounding from on high ! CALISTAN . Corin , thou know'st the fir-invested cave , Where late we shelter'd from a gathering storm , Our flocks together driven : beneath its shade I had appointed at sweet even-tide To meet my Delia homeward as she pass'd , Bearing her milking-pail : Alas ! the thoughts Of that sweet congress , the preceding night Soften'd my dreams , and all my senses lull'd , And with more joyful heart at morn I rose . But ah ! that tumult cropt my blooming hopes , And in confusion wrapt my love and me . CORIN . That day , nor in the fold my flock I pent , Or walk'd at eve the vales , or on the turf Beneath the wonted oak my dinner took , Or slept at noon amid my languid sheep , Repos'd at ease on the green meadow's bed . When sable night came on , for not even yet The tumult had subsided into peace , Even then low sounds , and interrupted bursts Of war we heard , and cries of dying men , And a confus'd hum of the ceasing storm . All night close-shrouded in a forest thick Wakeful I sat , my flock around me laid ; And of neglected boughs I kindled up A scanty flame , whose darkly-gleaming blaze Among th' enlighten'd trees form'd hideous shapes , And spectres pale , to my distemper'd mind . How oft I look'd behind with cautious fear , And trembled at each motion of the wind ! — But where did you , Calistan , shelter seek ? What dark retreat conceal'd your wandering steps ? CALISTAN . Corin , thou know'st the fur-clad Hermit's cell , Deep-arch'd beneath a rock among the wilds ; Thither I bent my flight , a welcome guest , And not unknown ; for when my flock I fed Of late beneath the neighbouring pastures green , I oft was wont , invited at his call , At noon beneath his cavern to retire From the sun's heat , where all the passing hours The good old man improv'd with converse high , And in my breast enkindled Virtue's love ; Nor seldom would his hospitable hand Afford a short repast of berries cool , Which o'er the wilds ( his scanty food ) he pluck'd : Here was my refuge . — All the live-long night Pensive by one pale lonesome lamp we sat , And listen'd to the bleak winds whistling loud , And the shrill crash of forests from without . Soon as the morning dawn'd , the craggy height Of the steep rock I climb'd , on whose wild top His rustic temple stood , and moss-grown cross ( The sacred object of his pious prayers ) Form'd of a tall fir's thunder-blasted trunk : Where all beneath th' expansive plains I saw With white pavilions hid , in deep array . There too my little fold , which late I left Standing at eve , amid the warlike scene With tearful eyes affrighted , I beheld . Alas , how chang'd the scene ! when there I pitch'd Those hurdled cotes , the night was calm and mild , And all was peaceful . I remember well , While there within that fold my flock I pent ; How blythe I heard my beauteous Delia sing ! Her distant echoing voice how sweetly rung , And all my ravish'd senses wrapt in bliss ! CORIN . Hast thou not seen the fatal plain of death , Where rag'd the conflict ? There , they say , at eve Grim ghosts are seen of men that there were slain , Pointing their wounds , and shrieking to their mates , Still doom'd to haunt the fields on which they fell . CALISTAN . Corin , no more . This lamb demands my speed . See how the youngling hangs his sickly head , Tender , and fainting for his wonted food ! I haste to place him in my sheltering cot , Fed from my hand , and cherish'd by my care . — And see , my friend , far off in darken'd west A cloud comes on , and threatens sudden rains : Corin , farewell , the storm begins to lower .