( 17 )
The Fifth Pastoral.
CUDDY.
In Rural Strains we first our Musick try,
And, bashful into Woods and Thickets fly,
Distrusting of our Skill. Yet, if thro' Time
Our Voice improving gain a Pitch Sublime,
Thy growing Virtues, Sackvil, shall engage
My riper Verse, and my more settled Age.
The Sun, now mounted to the Noon of Day,
Began to shoot direct his burning Ray,
When, with the Flocks, their Feeders sought the Shade,
A Venerable Oak, wide-spreading, made.
What should they do to pass the loit'ring Time?
As Fancy led, each form'd his Tale in Rhyme:
And some the Joys, and some the Pains of Love,
And some to set out strange Adventures strove;
The Trade of Wizzards some, and Merlin's Skill,
And whence to charm such Empire o'er the Will.
Then Cuddy last (who Cuddy can excel,
In neat Device?) his Tale began to tell.
When Shepherds flourish'd in Eliza's Reign,
There liv'd in great Esteem a jolly Swain,
Young Colin Clout; who well could pipe and sing,
And by his Notes invite the lagging Spring.
He, as his Custom was, at leisure laid
In silent Shade, without a Rival play'd.
Drawn by the Magick of th' inticing Sound,
What Crouds of mute Admirers flock'd around!
The Steerlings left their Food; and Creatures wild
By Nature form'd, insensibly grew mild.
He makes the Birds in Troops about him throng,
And loads the neighb'ring Branches with his Song.
In Rural Strains we first our Musick try,
And, bashful into Woods and Thickets fly,
Distrusting of our Skill. Yet, if thro' Time
Our Voice improving gain a Pitch Sublime,
Thy growing Virtues, Sackvil, shall engage
My riper Verse, and my more settled Age.
The Sun, now mounted to the Noon of Day,
Began to shoot direct his burning Ray,
When, with the Flocks, their Feeders sought the Shade,
A Venerable Oak, wide-spreading, made.
What should they do to pass the loit'ring Time?
As Fancy led, each form'd his Tale in Rhyme:
And some the Joys, and some the Pains of Love,
And some to set out strange Adventures strove;
The Trade of Wizzards some, and Merlin's Skill,
And whence to charm such Empire o'er the Will.
Then Cuddy last (who Cuddy can excel,
In neat Device?) his Tale began to tell.
When Shepherds flourish'd in Eliza's Reign,
There liv'd in great Esteem a jolly Swain,
Young Colin Clout; who well could pipe and sing,
And by his Notes invite the lagging Spring.
He, as his Custom was, at leisure laid
In silent Shade, without a Rival play'd.
Drawn by the Magick of th' inticing Sound,
What Crouds of mute Admirers flock'd around!
The Steerlings left their Food; and Creatures wild
By Nature form'd, insensibly grew mild.
He makes the Birds in Troops about him throng,
And loads the neighb'ring Branches with his Song.
Among
