Nor did my fearch of liberty begin
Till my black hairs were chang'd upon my chin,
Nor Amaryllis would vouchsafe a look,
Till Galatea's meaner bonds I broke.
Till then a helpless, hopeless, homely fwain,
I fought not freedom, nor afpir'd to gain:
Tho' many a victim from my folds was bought,
And many a cheese to country markets brought,
Yet all the little that I got I spent,
And still return'd as empty as I went.

MELI BOE US.

We flood amaz'd to fee your miftrefs mourn,
Unknowing that the pin'd for your return;
We wonder'd why fhe kept her fruit fo long,
For whom fo late th' ungather'd apples hang:
But now the wonder ceafes, fince I fee
She kept them only, Tityrus, for the:
For thee the bubbling fprings appear'd to mourn,
And whifp'ring pines made vows for thy return.

TITYR US.

What fhould I do? while here I was enchain'd, No glimpse of godlike liberty remain'd; Nor could I hope in any place but there To find a God fo prefent to my pray'r. There first the youth of heav'nly birth I view'd, For whom our monthly victims are renew❜d. He heard my vows, and graciously decreed My grounds to be reftor'd, my former flocks to feed.

MELIB OE US.

O fortunate old man! whofe farm remains
For you fufficient, and requites your pains,
Tho' rushes overspread the neighb'ring plains,
Tho' here the marshy grounds approach your fields
And there the foil a ftony harvest yields.

Your teeming ewes fhall no ftrange meadows try,
Nor fear a rot from tainted company.

Behold yon bord'ring fence of fallow trees

Is fraught with flow'rs, the flow'rs are fraught with bees :

The bufy bees, with a soft murm'ring strain,
Invite to gentle fleep the lab'ring fwain:
While from the neighb'ring rock with rural fongs
The pruner's voice the pleafing dream prolongs;
Stock-doves and turtles tell their am'rous pain,
And, from the lofty elms, of love complain.

TITY RUS.

Th' inhabitants of feas and fkies fhall change,
And fish on fhore, and ftags in air fhall range,
The banish'd Parthian dwell on Arar's brink,
And the blue German fhall the Tigris drink;
Ere I, forfaking gratitude and truth,
Forget the figure of that godlike youth.

MELIB OE US.

But we must beg our bread in climes unknown, Beneath the scorching or the freezing zone ; And fome to fair Oaxis fhall be fold, Or try the Lybian heat, or Scythian cold; The reft among the Britons be confin'd, A race of men from all the world disjoin'd. O! muft the wretched exiles ever mourn? Nor, after length of rolling years return? Are we condemn'd by fate's unjust decree, No more our houses and our homes to fee? Or fhall we mount again the rural throne, And rule the country, kingdoms once our own? Did we for these barbarians plant and fow, On thefe, on thefe, our happy fields bestow? Good heav'n, what dire effects from civil difcord flow Now let me graft my pears, and prune the vine; The fruit is theirs, the labour only mine. Farewel my pastures, my paternal stock, My fruitful fields, and my more fruitful flock! No more, my goats, fhall I behold you climb The steepy cliffs, or crop the flow'ry thyme; No more extended in the grot below, Shall fee you browzing on the mountain's brow, The prickly fhrubs, and after on the bare Lean down the deep abyfs and hang in air! No more my heep fhall fip the morning dew No more my fong fhall please the rural crew: Adieu, my tuneful pipe! and all the world adieu!

TITYR US.

This night, at least, with me forget your care;
Chefnuts and curds and cream fhall be your fare:
The carpet ground fhall be with leaves o'er-fpread,
And boughs fhall weave a cov'ring for your head:
For fee yon funny hill, the shade extends,
And curling smoke from cottages afcends.

Spenfer was the firft of our own countrymen, who acquired any confiderable reputation by this method of writing. We fhall infert his fixth eclogue, or that for June, which is allegorical, as will be seen by the

ARGUMENT.

"Hobbinol, from a description of the pleasures of the place, excites Colin to the enjoyment of them. Colin declares himself incapable of delight, by reafon of his ill fuccefs in love, and his lofs of Rofalind, who had treacherously forfaken him for Menalcas, another fhepherd. By Tityrus (mentioned before in Spenfer's fecond eclogue, and again in the twelfth) is plainly meant Chaucer, whom the author fometimes profefs'd to imitate. In the person of Colin, is represented the author himself; and Hobbinol's inviting him to leave the hilly country, feems to allude to his leaving the North, where, as is mention'd in his life, he had for fome time refided."

HOBBINO L.

Lo! Colin, here the place, whofe pleasant fight
From other shades hath wean'd my wand'ring mind:
Tell me, what wants me here, to work delight?
The fimple air, the gentle warbling wind,

So calm, fo cool, as no where else I find :
The graffy ground with dainty daifies dight,

The bramble-bufh, where birds of every kind
To th' water's fall their tunes attemper right.

COLIN.

O! happy Hobbinol, I blefs thy ftate,
That paradife haft found which Adam loft.

Here wander may thy flock early or late,
Withouten dread of wolves to been ytost;

94

Thy lovely lays here mayft thou freely boaft: But I, unhappy man! whom cruel fate,

And angry Gods pursue from coast to coast, Can no where find, to fhroud my luckless pate.

HOBBINO L.

Then if by me thou lift advised be, Forfake the foil, that so doth thee bewitch: Leave me those hills, where harbroughnis to fee, Nor holly-bufh, nor brere, nor winding ditch;

And to the dales refort, where shepherds rich, And fruitful flocks been every where to fee:

Here no night-ravens lodge, more black than pitch, Nor elvish ghofts, nor ghaftly owls do flee.

But friendly fairies met with many graces, And light-foot nymphs can chace the ling'ring night, With heydeguies, and trimly trodden traces; Whilst fifters nine, which dwell on Parnas' hight,

Do make them music, for their more delight; And Pan himfelf to kifs their chrystal faces,

Will pipe and daunce, when Phoebe fhineth bright: Such peerless pleasures have we in these places.

COLIN.

And I, whilft youth, and course of careless years, Did let me walk withouten links of love,

In fuch delights did joy amongst my peers:
But riper age fuch pleasures doth reprove,

My fancy eke from former follies move
Toftrayed steps: for time in paffing wears

(As garments doen, which waxen old above)
And draweth new delights with hoary hairs.

Tho couth I fing of love and tune my pipe
Unto my plantive pleas in verfes made:

Tho would I feek for queen-apples unripe,
To give my Rofalind, and in sommer fhade

Dight gawdy girlonds, was my common trade,
To crown her golden locks: but years more ripe,
And lofs of her, whofe love as life I wayde,
Those weary wanton toys away did wipe.

HOBBINO L.

Colin, to hear thy rhimes and roundelay's, Which thou wert wont on wasteful hills to fing, I more delight, than lark in sommer days : Whofe echo made the neighbour groves to ring,

And taught the birds, which in the lower spring Did shroud in fhady leaves from funny rays;

Frame to thy fong their cheerful cheriping
Or hold their peace, for fhame of thy fweet lays.

I faw Calliope with muses moe,
Soon as thy oaten pipe began to found,

Their ivory lutes and tamburins forgo:
And from the fountain, where they fate around,
Ren after haftily thy filver found.

But when they came, where thou thy fkill didft show,
They drew a back, as half with fhame confound,
Shepherd to fee, them in their art out-go.

COLIN.

Of mufes, Hobbinol, I con no skill,

For they been daughters of the highest Jove,

And holden fcorn of homely fhepherds quill: For fith I heard that Pan with Phoebus ftrove

Which him to much rebuke and danger drove, I never lift prefume to Parnafs' hill,

But piping low, in fhade of lowly grove, I play to please myself, albeit ill.

Nought weigh I, who my fong doth praise or blame, Ne strive to win renown, or pass the rest: With fhepherds fits not follow flying fame, But feed his flocks in fields, where falls him beft. I wote my rimes been rough, and rudely dreft; The fitter they, my careful cafe to frame: Enough is me to paint out my unreft, And pour my piteous plaints out in the fame.

The God of fhepherds, Tityrus is dead, Who taught me homely, as I can, to make:

He, whilft he lived was the fovereign head Of shepherds all, that been with love ytake.