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From other shades hath wean'd my wandring mind; Spenser.
Tell me, what wants me here to work delight?
The simple air, the gentle warbling wind,
So calm, so cool, as no where else, I find;
The grally ground with dainty daisies dight, 1)
The bramble bush, where birds of every kind
To th' water's fall their tunes attemper right.
Col. O! happy Hobbinol, I bless thy state,
That Paradise haft found which Adam lort:
Here wander may the flock early and late,
Withouten dread of wolves to been ytoft; 2)
Thy lovely lays here mayst thou frealy boast:
But I, unhappy Man! whom cruel Fate
And angry gods pursue from coast to coaft,
Can no where find to shroud my lükclefs pate.
HOB. Then if by me thou list advised be,
Forsake the soil that fo doth thee bewitch;
Leave me those hills where harbrough nis 3) to see,
Nor holly-bush, nor brere, nor winding ditch;
And to the dales resort, where shepherds rich,
And fruitful flocks, been every where to fee:
Here no night-ravens lodge, more black than pitch,
Nor elvish ghosts, nor ghaftly owls do flee;
But friendly Fairies, met with many Graees,
And lightfoot Nymphs, can chace the lingring
With hydeguies 4) and trimly trodden traces,
Whilst sisters Nine, which dwell on Parnass' hight,
Do make them mufick for their mere delight;
And Pan himself to kiss their crystal faces,
Will pipe and daunce, when Phoebe shineth bright:
Such peerless pleasures have we in these places.
COL. And I, whilst youth and course of care
I) adorned. 2) troubled. 3) not is.
penser. Did let me walk withouten links of love,
Įn such delights did joy amongst my peers,
But riper age such pleasures doth reprove.
My fancy eke 3) from former follies move
To ftayed steps; for time in passing wears
(As garments doen, which wexen 6) old above)
And draweth new delights with hoary years.
Tho couth I fing of love, and tune my pipe
Unto my plaintive pleas in verses made;
Tho' would I seek for queen-apples unripe,
To give my Rosalind, and in sommer shade
Dight gawdy girlonds was my common trade,
To cron her golden locks; but years more ripe,
And lots of here, whose love as life I wayde, 7)
Those weary wanton toys away did wipe.
HỌB. Colin, to hear thy rimes and roundelays,
Which thou wert wont on wasteful hills to fing,
I more delight than lark in sommer days,
Whose eccho made the neighbour groves to ring,
And taught the birds, which in the lower spring
Did shroud in shady leaves from sunny rays,
Frame to thy fong their cheerful cheriping,
Or hold their peace, for shame of thy sweet lays,
I saw Calliope with Muses moe, 8)
Soon as thy qaten pipe began to found,
Their ivory lutes and tamburins forgo,
And from the fountain, where they sat around,
Ren after hastily thy silver sound;
But when they came where thou thy skill didnt
They drew, aback, as half with shame confound,
Shepherd to see them in their art out-go:
ÇoĻ. Of Muses, Hobbinol I con no skill,
For they been daughters of the highest Jove,
And holden scorn of honely shepherd's quill;
For 5) also. 6) grew. 7) esteem’d.
For fith 9) I heard that Pan with Phoebus strove, Spenser.
Which him to much rebuke and danger drove,
I never list presume to Parnass' hill,
But piping low in shade of lowly grove,
I play to pleale myfelf, albeit 10) ill.
Nought weigh I who my song doth praise for bla.,
Ne u) strife to win renown, or pafs the rest:
With shepherd fits not follow flying Fame,
But feed his Flock in fields where falls him beft.
I wote 12) my rimes heen rough and rudely dreft;
The fitter they, my careful case to frame:
Enough is me to paint out my unrest,
And poúr my piteous plaints out in the same.
The god of shepherds, Tityrus, is dead,
Who taught me homely as I can to make;
Ne, whilst he lived, was the sovereign head
Of Shepherds all that been with love ytake:
Well couth he wail his woes, and lightly stake
The flames which love within his heart had bred,
And tell us merry tales to keep us wake,
The 'while our shecp about us safely fed.
Now dead he is, and lieth wrapt in lead,
(0! why should Death on him such outrage show by
And all his passing skill with him is fled,
The fame whereof doth daily greater grow.
But if on me fome little drops would Row
Of that the spring was in his learned head,
I soon would learn these woods to wail my woe,
And teach the trees their trickling tears to shed,
Then should my plaints, cauf'd of discourtefee,
As messengers of this my painful plight,
Fly to my love wherever that she be,
And pierce her heart with point of worthy wight,
As she deserves, that wrought so deadly spight.
9) since. 10). although it be. 11) Nor. 12) i know.
Spenser. . And thou, Menalcas, that by treachery
Didst underfong 13) my lass to wax so light,
Should'it well be known for such thy villany.
But since I am not as I wish I were,
Ye gentle shepherds, which your flock do feed,
Whether on hills, or dales, or other wherë,
Bear witness all of this so wicked deed,
And tell the lafs, whose flowre is woxe a weed,
And faultless faith is turn'd to faithless fear,
That she the truest shepherd's heart made bleed
That lives on earth, and loved her most dear.
HOB. O! careful Colin, I lament thy case;
Thy tears would make the hardest Aint to flow!
Ah! faithless Rosalind, and void of grace,
That art the root of all this rueful woe!
But now is time, I guess, homeward to go:
Then rise, ye blessed Flocks! and home apacun
Lest night with stealing steps do you foreslo,
And wet your tender lambs that hy you trace.
13) attempt by indirect means.
(Dieser Dichter wurde in der Grafschaft Leicester um das Jahr 1673 geboren, und starb zu London, 1749. Der Beifall, welchen seine Schäfergedichte bei ihrer ersten Ers fcheinung in England erhielten, wurde gar, sehr durch die iros nische Vergleidung vermindert, welche pope in 4often Blatte der Wochenschrift, The Guardian, zwischen ihnen und den reinigen, dem ersten Anschein nad zum Nachtheil der lextern, anstellte. Und Philips fehlte allerdings in dem Beftreben, reine Schäfer, ihre Gesinnungen und Sprache, die Scene der Handlung, die Gegenstånde der Beschreibung und des Gesprächs, der wirklichen Natur so nahe als möglich zu bringen; und verfiel dadurch nicht selten ins Gemeine, Platte und Abgeschmackte. Ohne Zweifel aber ließ sich po: pe durch Eigenliebe zur Ungerechtigkeit gegen diesen Dichter verleiten, der wenigstens ftellenweise nicht ohne Verdienft ift. Das schönste unter seinen übrigen Gedichten ist eine von Stoppenbagen aus im J. 1709 an den Grafen Dorset gerich: tete poetische Epiftel, die Steele, als ein sehr mablerisches Winterstůď, mit verdientem Lobe, in der zw8lften Nummer des Tatler fuerft bekannt machte.)
This place may seem for Shepherds leisure made,
So lovingly these elms unite their shade.
Th' ambitious woodbine, how it climbs, to breath
Its balmy sweets around on all beneath!
The ground with grass of cheerful green bespread,
Thro' which the springing flow'r up-rears its head.
Lo here the king-cup, of a golden hue,
Medlyd with daisies white, and endive blue.
Hark how the gaudy goldfinch, and the thrush,
With tuneful warblings fill that bramble-bush!