Page:The Works of Alexander Pope (1717).djvu/67

While silent birds forget their tuneful lays,
Oh sing of Daphne's fate, and Daphne's praise!

THYRSIS.
Behold the groves that shine with silver frost,
Their beauty wither'd, and their verdure lost.
Here shall I try the sweet Alexis' strain,
That call'd the list'ning Dryads to the plain?
Thames heard the numbers as he flow'd along,
And bade his willows learn the moving song.

LYCIDAS.
So may kind rains their vital moisture yield,
And swell the future harvest of thy field.
Begin; this charge the dying Daphne gave,
And said; "Ye shepherds, sing around my grave!
Sing, while beside the shaded Tomb I mourn,
And with fresh bays her rural shrine adorn.

THYRSIS.
Ye gentle Muses leave your crystal spring,
Let Nymphs and Sylvans cypress garlands bring;

Ye