: The Poetical Works of James Beattie by Beattie James Dyce Alexander Contributor - Poetry

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Those lays that led the listening herds along. And if the face be true I lately view'd, Where calm and clear th' uncurling ocean stood, I lack not beauty, nor could'st thou deny, That even with Daphnis I may dare to vie. O deign at last amid these lonely fields To taste the pleasures which the country yields; With me to dwell in cottages resign'd, To roam the woods, to shoot the bounding hind; With me the weanling kids from home to guide To the green mallows on the mountain side; With me in echoing groves the song to raise, And emulate even Pan's celestial lays. Pan taught the jointed reed its tuneful strain, Pan guards the tender flock, and shepherd swain. Nor grudge, Alexis, that the rural pipe So oft has stain'd the roses of thy lip: How did Amyntas strive thy skill to gain! How grieve at last to find his labour vain! Of seven unequal reeds a pipe I have, The precious gift which good Damoetas gave; "Take this," the dying shepherd said, "for none Inherits all my skill but thou alone." He said; Amyntas murmurs at my praise, And with an envious eye the gift surveys. Besides, as presents for my soul's delight, Two beauteous kids I keep bestreak'd with white, Nourish'd with care, nor purchas'd without pain; An ewe's full udder twice a day they drain. These to obtain oft Thestylis hath tried Each winning art, while I her suit denied; But I at last shall yield what she requests, Since thy relentless pride my gifts detests. Come, beauteous boy, and bless my rural bowers, For thee the nymphs collect the choicest flowers; Fair Nais culls amid the bloomy dale The drooping poppy, and the violet pale, To marygolds the hyacinth applies, Shading the glossy with the tawny dyes: Narcissus' flower with daffodil entwin'd, And cassia's breathing sweets to these are join'd. With every bloom that paints the vernal grove, And all to form a garland for my love. Myself with sweetest fruits will crown thy feast; The luscious peach shall gratify thy taste, And, chestnut brown The myrtle wreath'd with laurel shall exhale A blended fragrance to delight thy smell. Ah Corydon! thou rustic, simple swain! Thyself, thy prayers, thy offers all are vain. How few, compar'd with rich Iolas' store, Thy boasted gifts, and all thy wealth how poor! Wretch that I am! while thus I pine forlorn, And all the livelong day inactive mourn, The boars have laid my silver fountains waste, My flowers are fading in the southern blast.-- Fly'st thou, ah foolish boy, the lonesome grove? Yet gods for this have left the realms above. Paris with scorn the pomp of Troy survey'd, And sought th' Idaean bowers and peaceful shade, In her proud palaces let Pallas shine; The lowly woods, and rural life be mine. The lioness all dreadful in her course Pursues the wolf, and he with headlong force Flies at the wanton goat, that loves to climb The cliff's steep side, and crop the flowering thyme; Thee Corydon pursues, O beauteous boy: Thus each is drawn along by some peculiar joy. Now evening soft comes on; and homeward now From field the weary oxen bear the plough. The setting Sun now beams more mildly bright, The shadows lengthening with the level light. While with love's flame my restless bosom glows. For love no interval of ease allows. Ah Corydon! to weak complaints a prey! What madness thus to waste the fleeting day! Be rous'd at length; thy half-prun'd vines demand The needful culture of thy curbing hand. Haste, lingering swain, the flexile willows weave, And with thy wonted care thy wants relieve. Forget Alexis' unrelenting scorn, Another love thy passion will return.

The chief excellency of this poem consists in its delicacy and simplicity. Corydon addresses his favourite in such a purity of sentiment as one would think might effectually discountenance the prepossessions which generally prevail against the subject of this eclogue. The nature of his affection may easily be ascertained from his ideas of the happiness which he hopes to enjoy in the company of his beloved Alexis.

The scene of this pastoral is a grove interspersed with beech-trees; the season, harvest.

Vaccinium yielded a purple colour used in dying the garments of slaves, according to Plin. 1. xvi. c. 28.

MENALCAS, DAMOETAS, PALAEMON.

MENALCAS.

To whom belongs this flock, Damoetas, pray: To Meliboeus?

DAMOETAS.

No; the other day The shepherd AEgon gave it me to keep.

MENALCAS.

Ah still neglected, still unhappy sheep! He plies Neaera with assiduous love, And fears lest she my happier flame approve; Meanwhile this hireling wretch Defrauds his master, and purloins his gains, Milks twice an hour, and drains the famish'd dams, Whose empty dugs in vain attract the lambs.

DAMOETAS.

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