How calm the Evening! see the falling Day Gilds every Mountain with a ruddy Ray! In gentle Sighs the softly whisp'ring Breeze Salutes the Flow'rs, and waves the trembling Trees; Hark! the Night Warbler from yon vocal Boughs, Glads every Valley with melodious Woes! Swift thro' the Air her Rounds the Swallow takes, Or sportive skims the Level of the Lakes. The tim'rous Deer, swift-starting as they graze, Bound off in Crouds, then turn again, and gaze. See! how yon Swans, with snowy Pride elate, Arch their high Necks, and sail along in State! Thy frisking Flocks safe-wand'ring crop the Plain, And the glad Season claims a gladsome Strain. Begin———Ye Echoes listen to the Song, And with its sweetness pleas'd, each Note prolong!
Lycidas. Sing Muse—and O! may Townshend deign to view What the Muse sings, to Townshend this is due! Who carrying with him, all the World admires, From all the World illustriously retires: And calmly wand'ring in his Rainham roves By Lake, or Spring, by Thicket, Lawn, or Groves: Where verdant Hills, or Vales where Fountains stray, Charm every Thought of idle Pomp away: Unenvy'd views the splendid Toils of State, In private Happy, as in public Great.
Thus godlike Scipio, on whofe Cares reclin'd The Burthen and Repose of half Mankind, Left to the Vain their Pomp, and calmly stray'd, The World forgot, beneath the laurel Shade; Nor longer would be Great, but void of Strife, Clos'd in soft Peace his Eve of glorious Life.
Feed round my Goats, ye Sheep in Safety graze, Ye Winds breathe gently while I tune my Lays.
The joyous Spring draws nigh! ambrosial Show'rs Unbind the Earth, the Earth unbinds the Flow'rs, The Flow'rs blow sweet, the Daffadils unfold The spreading Glories of their blooming Gold.
Daphnis. As the gay Hours advance, the Blossoms shoot, The knitting Blossoms harden into Fruit, And as the Autumn by degrees ensues, The mellowing Fruits display their streaky Hues.
Lycidas. When the Winds whistle, and the Tempest roars, When foaming Billows lash the sounding Shores, The bloomy Beauties of the Pastures die, And in gay heaps of fragrant Ruin lie.
Daphnis. Severe the Storms! when shudd'ring Winter binds The Earth! but Winter yields to vernal Winds: O! Love, thy Rigour my whole Life deforms, More cold than Winter, more severe than Storms!
Lycidas. Sweet is the Spring, and gay the Summer Hours, When balmy Odours breathe from painted Flow'rs; But neither sweet the Spring, nor Summer gay, When she I love, my Charmer is away.
Daphnis. To savage Rocks, thro' bleak inclement Skies, Deaf as those Rocks, from me my Fair-one flies: O! Virgin cease to fly! th' inclement Air May hurt thy Charms!—but thou hast Charms to spare!
Lycidas. I love, and ever shall my Love remain, The fairest, kindest Virgin of the Plain; With equal Passion her soft Bosom glows, Feels the sweet Pains, and shares the heav'nly Woes.
Daphnis. With a feign'd Passion, she I love, beguiles, And gayly false the dear Dissembler smiles; But let her still those blest Deceits employ, Still may she feign and cheat me into Joy!
Lycidas. On yonder Bank the yielding Nymph reclin'd, Gods! how transported I, and the how kind! There rise ye Flow'rs, and there your Pride display, There shed your Odours where the Fair-one lay!
Daphnis. Once, as my Fair-one in the rosy Bow'r In gentle Slumbers pass'd the Noon-tide Hour, Soft I approach'd, and raptur'd with the Bliss At Leisure gaz'd, then stole a silent Kiss, She wak'd; when conscious Smiles but ill represt, Spoke no Disdain!—Was ever Swain so blest?
Lycidas. With fragrant Apples from the bending Bough In sport my Charmer gave her Swain a Blow: The fair Offender of my Wrath afraid, Fled, till I seiz'd, and kiss'd the blooming Maid: She smil'd, and vow'd if thus her Crimes I pay, She would offend a thousand times a Day!
Daphnis. O'er the steep Mountain, and the pathless Mead, From my Embrace the lovely Scorner fled; But stumbling in the Flight, by chance the fell, I saw—but what—her Lover will not tell!
Lycidas. From me, my Fair-one fled, dissembling play, And in the dark conceal'd the Wanton lay; But laugh'd, and shew'd by the directing Sound She only hid, in secret to be found.
Daphnis. Far hence to happier Climes Belinda strays, But in my Breast her lovely Image stays; O! to these Plains again, bright Nymph, repair, Or from my Breast far hence thy Image bear!
Lycidas. Come, Delia, come, till Delia bless these Seats, Hide me, ye Groves, within your dark Retreats! In hollow Groans, ye Winds, around me blow! Ye bubbling Fountains, murmur to my Woe!
Daphnis. Where'er Belinda roves, ye Zephyrs, play! Where'er she treads, ye Flow'rs, adorn the Way! From sultry Suns, ye Groves, my Charmer keep! Ye bubbling Fountains, murmur to her Sleep!
Lycidas. If Streams smooth-wand'ring, Delia, yield Delight, If the gay Rose, or Lilly please thy Sight; Smooth Streams here wander, here the Roses glow, Here the proud Lillies rise to shade thy Brow!
Daphnis. Aid me, ye Muses, while I loud proclaim What Love inspires, and sing Belinda's Name: Waft it, ye Breezes, to the Hills around, And sport, ye Echoes, with the favourite Sound.
Lycidas. Thy Name, my Delia, shall improve my Song, The pleasing Labour of my ravish'd Tongue: Her Name to Heav'n propitious Zephyrs bear, And breathe it to her kindred Angels there!
Daphnis. But see! the Night displays her starry Train, Soft Silver Dews impearl the glitt'ring Plain; An awful Horrour fills the gloomy Woods, And bluish Mists rife from the smoaking Floods; Haste, Daphnis, haste to fold thy woolly Care, The deep'ning Shades imbrown th' unwholesome Air.
Endpiece from 'Poems on Several Occasions' by William Broome (1739, 2nd edition)
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