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While in the fold his injur'd ewes complain,
And after dewy pastures bleat in vain.

THE

FIFTH PASTORAL.

CUDDY.

N rural ftrains we firft our music try,

IN

And bashful into woods and thickets fly, Miftrufting then our skill; yet if through time Our voice, improving, gain a pitch fublime, Thy growing virtues, Sackville, fhall engage My riper verfe, and more aspiring age.

The fun, now mounted to the noon of day, Began to shoot direct his burning ray;

When, with the flocks, their feeders fought the fhade A venerable oak wide-spreading made:

What should they do to pass the loitering time?

As fancy led, each form'd his tale in rhyme :
And fome the joys, and fome the pains, of love,
And fome to fet out ftrange adventures, ftrove;
The trade of wizards fome, and Merlin's skill,
And whence, to charms, fuch empire o'er the will.
Then Cuddy laft (who Cuddy can excel

In neat device?) his tale began to tell.

"When shepherds flourish'd in Eliza's reign, "There liv'd in high repute a jolly swain,

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Young Colin Clout; who well could pipe and fing, "And by his notes invite the lagging fpring. "He, as his cuftom was, at leifure laid

"In woodland bower, without a rival play'd,

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"Soliciting

"Soliciting his pipe to warble clear, Enchantment sweet as ever wont to hear Belated wayfarers, from wake or fair "Detain'd by mufic, hovering on in air: "Drawn by the magic of th' inticing found, "What troops of mute admirers flock'd around! "The steerlings left their food.; and creatures, wild By Nature form'd, infenfibly grew mild.

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"He makes the gathering birds about him throng,
"And loads the neighbouring branches with his fong:
"There, with the crowd, a nightingale of fame,
"Jealous, and fond of praise, to liften came :
"She turn'd her ear, and pause by pause, with pride,
"Like echo to the shepherd's pipe reply'd.

"The shepherd heard with wonder, and again,
"To try her more, renew'd his various ftrain:
"To all the various ftrain the plies her throat,
"And adds peculiar grace to every note.
"If Colin, in complaining accent grieve,
Or brisker motion to his measure give,
"If gentle founds he modulate, or strong,
She, not a little vain, repeats the fong:
"But fo repeats, that Colin half-despis'd
"His pipe and skill, around the country priz'd :
And sweetest fongster of the winged kind,
"What thanks, faid he, what praises, shall I find
"To equal thy melodious voice? In thee

The rudeness of my rural fife I fee;

From thee I learn no more to vaunt my fkill:
Aloft in air the fate, provoking still

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"The

"The vanquish'd fwain. Provok'd, at laft, he ftrove "To show the little minstrel of the grove

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"His utmost powers, determin'd once to try "How art, exerting, might with nature vy; "For vy could none with either in their part, "With her in Nature, nor with him in Art. "He draws-in breath, his rifing breath to fill: "Throughout the wood his pipe is heard to fhrill. "From note to note, in hafte, his fingers fly; "Still more and more the numbers multiply : "And now they trill, and now they fall and rife, "And swift and flow they change with sweet surprise. "Attentive the doth scarce the founds retain; "But to herself first cons the puzzling strain, "And tracing, heedful, note by note repays

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The fhepherd in his own harmonious lays, "Through every changing cadence runs at length, "And adds in fweetness what he wants in ftrength. 72 "Then Colin threw his fife difgrac'd afide, "While the loud triumph fings, proclaiming wide "Her mighty conqueft, and within her throat "Twirls many a wild unimitable note, "To foil her rival. What could Colin more?

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A little harp of maple-ware he bore: "The little harp was old, but newly ftrung, "Which, ufual, he acrofs his fhoulders hung. 80 "Now take, delightful bird, my last farewel, "He faid, and learn from hence thou doft excel· "No trivial artist: and anon he wound

"The murmuring ftrings, and order'd every found: 84

"Then

"Then earnest to his inftrument he bends,
"And both hands pliant on the rings extends :
"His touch the frings obey, and various move,
"The lower anfwering ftill to those above:
"His fingers, restless, traverse to and fro,
"As in purfuit of harmony they go;

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“Now, lightly skimming, o'er the strings they pass, "Like winds which gently brush the plying grafs, 92 "While melting airs arise at their command: "And now, laborious, with a weighty hand "He finks into the cords with folemn pace, "To give the fwelling tones a bolder grace; "And now the left, and now by turns the right, "Each other chace, harmonious both in flight: "Then his whole fingers blend a fwarm of founds, "Till the sweet tumult through the harp redounds, 100 "Ceafe, Colin, ceafe, thy rival cease to vex; "The mingling notes, alas! her ear perplex: "She warbles, diffident, in hope and fear, “And hits imperfect accents here and there, "And fain would utter forth fome double tone, "When foon fhe falters, and can utter none : "Again she tries, and yet again fhe fails; "For ftill the harp's united power prevails. "Then Colin play'd again, and playing fung: "She, with the fatal love of glory stung, "Hears all in pain: her heart begins to swell: "In piteous notes fhe fighs, in notes which tell "Her bitter anguish: he, ftill finging, plies "His limber joints: her forrows higher rise. Y

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"How fhall fhe bear a conqueror, who, before, "No equal through the grove in music bore? "She droops, the hangs her flagging wings, fhe moans, "And fetcheth from her breast melodious groans. "Opprefs'd with grief at laft too great to quell, "Down, breathlefs, on the guilty harp fhe fell. "Then Colin loud lamented o'er the dead, "And unavailing tears profufely fhed,

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And broke his wicked ftrings, and curs'd his skill;

"And beft to make atonement for the ill,

"If, for fuch ill, atonement might be made,

"He builds her tomb beneath a laurel fhade,

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"Then adds a verfe, and sets with flowers the ground, And makes a fence of winding ofiers round.

"A verfe and tomb is all I now can give;

"And here thy name at least, he said, shall live.” Thus ended Cuddy with the fetting fun,

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And, by his tale, unenvy'd praises won.

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THE SIXTH PASTORAL.

GERON, HOBBINOL, LANQUET.

GERON.

HOW fill the fea behold! how calm the sky!

And how, in fportive chace, the fwallows fly!

My goats, fecure from harm, fmall tendance need,
While high, on yonder hanging rock, they feed:
And, here below, the banky fhore along,
Your heifers graze. Now, then, to strive in fong

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Prepare.

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