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The moving mountains hear the pow'rful call,
And headlong streams hang list'ning in their fall.'
But see, the shepherds shun the noon-day heat,
The lowing herds to murm'ring brooks retreat,'
To closer shades the panting flocks remove;
Ye gods! and is there no relief for love ?3
But soon the sun with milder rays descends

To the cool ocean, where his journey ends:*
On me love's fiercer flames for ever prey,'
By night he scorches, as he burns by day.

1 Lucan vi. 473:

de rupe pependit Abscissa fixus torrens; amnisque cucurrit Non qua pronus erat.

Streams have run back at murmurs of her tongue.

And torrents from the rock suspended hung. Rowe. -STEEVENS.

"The line And headlong streams," says Ruffhead, "surely presents a new image and a bold one too." Bold indeed! Pope has carried the idea into extravagance when he makes the stream not only "listening," but "hang listening in its headlong fall." An idea of this sort will only bear just touching; the mind then does not perceive its violence; if it be brought before the eyes too minutely, it becomes almost ridiculous. -BOWLES.

2 In the MS.:

But see the southing sun displays his beams,

See Tityrus leads his herd to silver streams. 3 Virg. Ecl. ii. 68:

Me tamen urit amor, quis enim modus adsit amori?-POPE

85

90

He had Dryden's translation of the passage in Virgil before him :

Cool breezes now the raging heats remove: Ah, cruel heav'n, that made no cure for love.-WAKEFIELD.

4 The phrase "where his journey ends" is mean and prosaic, nor by any means adequately conveys the sentiment required, which is this,— The sun grows milder by degrees, and is at length extinguished in the ocean, but my flames know neither abatement nor intermission.-WAKE

FIELD.

5 Variation:

Me love inflames, nor will his fires allay.-
POPE.

6 This is certainly the poorest of Pope's pastorals, and it has many false thoughts and conceits. But the ingenuous and candid critic will always bear in mind the early age at which they were written, and the false taste of Cowley at that time prevalent. BOWLES.

AUTUMN:

THE THIRD PASTORAL,'

OR

HYLAS AND EGON.

TO MR. WYCHERLEY.2

BENEATH the shade a spreading beech displays,'
Hylas and Egon sung their rural lays;
This mourned a faithless, that an absent love,"
And Delia's name and Doris' filled the grove.'

This Pastoral consists of two parts, like the eighth of Virgil: the scene, a hill; the time, at sunset.POPE.

2 Mr. Wycherley, a famous author of comedies; of which the most celebrated were the Plain-Dealer and Country-Wife. He was a writer of infinite spirit, satire, and wit. The only objection made to him was, that he had too much. However, he was followed in the same way by Mr. Congreve, though with a little more correctness.-POPE.

3 Formed on Dryden's version of Ecl. i. 1:

Beneath the shado which beechen boughs diffuse.-WAKEFIELD.

4 Before the edition of 1736 the couplet ran thus:

To whose complaints the list'ning forests bend,

While one his mistress mourns, and one his friend.

In keeping with this announcement

the song of Hylas, which forms the first portion of the Pastoral, was devoted to mourning an absent shepherd, and not, as at present, an absent shepherdess. When Pope made his lines commemorative of love, instead of friendship, he did little more than change the name of the man (Thyrsis) to that of a woman (Delia), and substitute the feminine for the masculine pronoun. The extravagant idea expressed in the first line of the rejected couplet is found in Oldham's translation of Moschus :

And trees leaned their attentive branches down.

There is nothing of the kind in the Greek text.

From Dryden's version of Ecl. i. 5:

While stretched at ease you sing your happy loves,

And Amaryllis fills the shady groves.-
WAKEFIELD.

Ye Mantuan nymphs, your sacred succour bring;
Hylas and Ægon's rural lays I sing.

Thou,' whom the nine, with Plautus' wit inspire,
The art of Terence, and Menander's fire;

Whose sense instructs us, and whose humour charms,
Whose judgment sways us, and whose spirit' warms!
Oh, skilled in nature! see the hearts of swains,
Their artless passions, and their tender pains.'

Now setting Phoebus shone serenely bright,

And fleecy clouds were streaked with purple light;
When tuneful Hylas with melodious moan,

Taught rocks to weep, and made the mountains groan."
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!

To Delia's ear the tender notes convey.
As some sad turtle his lost love deplores

And with deep murmurs fills the sounding shores;

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Warburton's note has more the appearance of an insidious attack upon Pope than of serious commendation; for if, as Warburton assumes, the panegyric in the text has reference to the plays and not to the man, it was a misplaced "encomium” to say that Wycherley "instructed" the world by the "sense," and "swayed" them by the "judgment," which were manifested "in a shame. fully profligate dialogue and action."

3 The reading was "rapture" in all editions till that of 1736.

4 Few writers have less nature in

them than Wycherley.—WARTON.

5

10

15

20

5 Till the edition of 1736 the following lines stood in place of the couplet in the text :

Attend the muse, though low her numbers be,

She sings of friendship, and she sings to thee.

Pope had Waller's Thyrsis and Galatea in his memory:

Made the wide country echo to your moan, The list'ning trees, and savage mountains groan.-WAKEFIELD.

The groans of the trees and mountains are, in Waller's poem, the echo of the mourner's lamentations, but to this Pope has added that the "moan" made "the rocks weep," which has no resemblance to anything in nature.

7 The lines from verse 17 to 30 are very beautiful, tender, and melodious. - BOWLES.

It was a time-honoured fancy that the "moan" of the turtle-dove was a lament for the loss of its mate. Turtur, the Latin name for the bird, is a cor

Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I mourn,
Alike unheard, unpitied, and forlorn.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along!
For her, the feathered quires neglect their song:
For her, the limes their pleasing shades deny;
For her, the lilies hang their heads and die.
Ye flow'rs that droop, forsaken by the spring,
Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing,
Ye trees that fade when autumn-heats remove,
Say, is not absence death to those who love?'

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
Cursed be the fields that cause my Delia's stay;
Fade ev'ry blossom, wither ev'ry tree,'
Die ev'ry flower, and perish all but she.
What have I said? where'er my Delia flies,
Let spring attend, and sudden flow'rs arise;
Let op'ning roses knotted oaks adorn,'
And liquid amber drop from ev'ry thorn.

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along!
The birds shall cease to tune their ev'ning song,

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3 Virg. Ecl. viii. 52:

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aurea duræ
Mala ferant quercus, narcisso floreat alnus;
Pinguia corticibus sudent electra myricæ.
-POPE.

also

due to

His obligations, are
Dryden's version of Ecl. iv. 21:
Unlaboured harvests shall the fields adorn,
And clustered grapes shall blush on ev'ry
thorn:

And knotted oaks shall show'rs of honey
weep,

And through the matted grass the liquid gold shall creep.

Bowles, in his translation of Theo-
critus, Idyll. v., assisted our bard:

On brambles now let violets be born,
And op'ning roses blush on ev'ry thorn.
He seems to have had in view also
the third Eclogue of Walsh:

Upon hard oaks let blushing peaches grow,
And from the brambles liquid amber flow.
-WAKEFIELD.

The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move,
And streams to murmur, ere I cease to love.'-
Not bubbling fountains to the thirsty swain,'
Not balmy sleep to lab'rers faint with pain,'
Not show'rs to larks, or sunshine to the bee,
Are half so charming as thy sight to me.*

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away !
Come, Delia, come; ah, why this long delay ?
Through rocks and caves the name of Delia sounds,
Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds.
Ye pow'rs, what pleasing frenzy soothes my mind!
Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind ?

She comes, my Delia comes !-Now cease my lay,"
And cease, ye gales, to bear my sighs away!

Next Egon sung, while Windsor groves admired;
Rehearse, ye muses, what yourselves inspired.

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To virgins flow'rs, to sun-burnt earth the
rain,

To mariners fair winds amid the main,
Cool shades to pilgrims, whom hot glances
burn,

Are not so pleasing as thy blest return.-
WARTON.

5 Virg. Ecl. viii. 108 :

an, qui amant, ipsį sibi sompia fingunt? -POPE.

In the first edition, conformably to
the original plan of the Pastoral, the
passage stood thus :

Do lovers dream, or is my shepherd kind?
He comes, my shepherd comes.-
WAKEFIELD.

From Virg. Ecl. viii. 110:

Parcite, ab urbe venit, jam parcite carmina, Daphnis.

Stafford's translation in Dryden's Miscellany:

Cease, cease, my charms, My Daphnis comes, he comes, he flies into my arms.

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