THE PROGRESS of LOVE. IN Four ECLOGUES. George Lyttelton, 1st Baron Lyttelton Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T131163 K104099.002 Dodsley, Robert, 1703-1764. A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands. Vol. II. London printed by J. Hughs, for R. and J. Dodsley 1763 [1st ed. 1758] pp. [1]-16. 6v.: music; 8⁰.

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THE PROGRESS of LOVE . IN Four ECLOGUES .
UNCERTAINTY . Eclogue I. To Mr. POPE . POPE , to whose reed beneath the beechen shade , 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 re-visit once again The crystal fountain , and the flow'ry 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 pendent 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 ev'ry savage a defenceless prey ; No sense of int'rest could their master move , And ev'ry care seem'd trifling now but Love . Awhile in pensive silence he remain'd , But tho' 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 . Ye Nymphs , he cry'd , 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 . Tho' wild Ambition and destructive Rage , No Factions here can form , no Wars can wage ; Tho' Envy frowns not on your humble shades , Nor Calumny your innocence invades , Yet cruel Love , that troubler of the breast , Too often violates your boasted rest ; With inbred storms disturb your calm retreat , And taints with bitterness each rural sweet . Ah luckless day ! when first with fond surprize 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 ev'ry wish , and thought , and care was gone , But what my heart employ'd on her alone . Then too she smil'd : can smiles our peace destroy , 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 enquiries 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 , flatt'ring Memory , and tell my heart How kind she was , and with what pleasing art She strove its fondest wishes to obtain , Confirm her pow'r , 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 flow'rs 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 cou'd inspire , Coldly she heard , and full of scorn withdrew , Without one pitying glance , or sweet adieu . 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 I . Ah , how have I deserv'd , inhuman maid , To have my faithful service thus repay'd ? 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 cou'd find In such a gentle , such a gen'rous 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 flatt'ring thought the love-sick boy Felt the faint dawnings of a doubtful joy ; Back to his flock more cheerful he return'd , When now the setting sun less fiercely burn'd : Blue vapours rose along the mazy rills , And light's last blushes ting'd the distant hills .
HOPE . Eclogue II . To Mr. DODDINGTON . HEar , DODDINGTON , the notes that shepherds sing , Notes soft as those of nightingales in spring : Nor Pan , nor Phoebus tune the shepherd's reed : From Love alone our tender lays proceed : Love warms our fancy with enliv'ning fires , Refines our genius , and our verse inspires : From him Theocritus , on Enna's plains , Learnt the wild sweetness of his Doric strains ; Virgil by him was taught the moving art , That charm'd each ear , and soften'd ev'ry heart : O would'st thou quit the pride of courts , and deign To dwell with us upon the vocal plain , Thee too his pow'r should reach , and ev'ry shade Resound the praises of thy fav'rite maid ; Thy pipe our rural concert wou'd improve , And we should learn of thee to please and love . Damon no longer sought the silent shade , No more in unfrequented paths he stray'd , But call'd the nymphs to hear his jocund song , And told his joy to all the rustic throng . Blest be the hour , he said , that happy hour When first I own'd my Delia's gentle pow'r ; Then gloomy Discontent and pining Care Forsook 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 auspicious day , When swains their sportive rites to Bacchus pay : She led the dance — heav'ns ! with what grace she mov'd ! Who cou'd have seen her then , and not have lov'd ? I strove not to resist so sweet a flame , But glory'd in a happy captive's name ; Nor wou'd I now , cou'd Love permit , be free , But leave to brutes their savage liberty . And art thou then , fond swain , secure of joy ? Can no reverse thy flattering bliss destroy ? Has treach'rous Love no torment yet in store ? Or hast thou never prov'd his fatal pow'r ? Whence flow'd those tears that late bedew'd thy cheek ? Why sigh'd thy heart as if it strove to break ? Why were the desart rocks invok'd to hear The plaintive accents 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 restor'd . Begin , my pipe , begin the gladsome lay ; A kiss from Delia shall thy musick pay ; A kiss obtain'd 'twixt struggling and consent , Giv'n with forc'd anger , and disguis'd content : No laureat wreaths I ask to bind my brows , Such as the Muse on lofy bards bestows ; Let other swains to praise or fame aspire : I from her lips my recompence require . Hark how the bees with murmurs fill the plain , While ev'ry flow'r of ev'ry sweet they drain : See , how beneath yon hillock's shady steep , The shelter'd herds on flow'ry 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 even the nightingale's melodious throat . Accept of this ; and cou'd I add beside What wealth the rich Peruvian mountains hide ; If all the gems in Eastern rocks were mine , On thee alone their glitt'ring pride shou'd shine . But if thy mind no gifts have pow'r to move , Phoebus himself shall leave th' Aonian grove ; The tuneful Nine , who never sue in vain , Shall come sweet suppliants for their fav'rite swain . For him each blue-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 musick 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 faults from her enquiring sight , And shew my merits in the fairest light ; My pipe your kind assistance shall repay , And ev'ry friend shall claim a diff'rent lay . But see ! in yonder glade the heav'nly fair Enjoys the fragrance of the breezy air — Ah , thither let me fly with eager feet ; Adieu , 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 pow'r by fear . Of all the passions that employ the mind , In gentle Love the sweetest joys we find ; Yet e'en 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 romantick mountain's airy head ( While browzing goats at ease around him fed ) Anxious he lay , with jealous cares oppress'd ; Distrust and anger lab'ring in his breast — The 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 op'ning plain commands , Beyond , a town with glitt'ring spires is crown'd , And distant hills the wide horizon bound : So charming was the scene , awhile 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 flow'ry wreath , which long with pride he wore , The gift of Delia , from his brows he tore : Then cry'd ; May all thy charms , ungrateful maid , Like these neglected roses droop and fade ; May angry Heav'n deform each guilty grace , That triumphs now in that deluding face ; Those alter'd looks may ev'ry shepherd fly , And ev'n thy Daphnis hate thee worse than I . 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 pow'r 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 ev'ry smile ador'd , And dy'd 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 ; Wou'd my clos'd eyes had sunk in endless night , Ere I was doom'd to bear that hateful sight ! Where-e'er they pass'd , be blasted every flow'r , 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 hear'd how poor See Mr. GAY'S Dione . Menalcas dy'd 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 . Wou'd I cou'd die like him and be at peace , These torments in the quiet grave would cease ; There my vext thoughts a calm repose wou'd find . And rest as if my Delia still were kind . No , let me live her falshood to upbraid ; Some god perhaps my just revenge will aid . — Alas what aid , fond swain , would'st thou receive ? Cou'd thy heart bear to see its Delia grieve ? Protect her , Heav'n , and let her never know The slightest part of hapless Damon's woe : I ask no vengeance from the pow'rs 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 flatt'ring 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 fatal charms , No more I'll court the trayt'ress 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 true .
POSSESSION . Eclogue IV . To the 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 list'ning plains , Yet shall its musick please the 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 : The sweet remembrance shall thy youth restore , Fancy 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 rustick altar stood , To Venus and to Hymen , there combin'd , In friendly league to favour humankind . With wanton Cupids in that happy shade , The gentle Virtues , and mild Wisdom play'd . Nor there in sprightly Pleasure's genial train , Lurk'd sick Disgust , or late repenting Pain , Nor Force , nor Int'rest , join'd unwilling hands , But Love consenting ty'd the blissful bands . Thither with glad devotion Damon came , To thank the pow'rs 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 gloom 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 cou'd Anchises' raptures equal mine , And Delia's beauties only yield to thine . What are you now , my once most valu'd 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 ev'ry 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 ev'ry 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 flow'ry 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 rehearse , And future ages with just envy mov'd , Be told how Damon and his Delia lov'd .