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Ah what avail the beauties nature wore ?

35 Fair Daphne's dead, and beauty is no more !

For her the flocks refuse their verdant food,
The thirsty heifers shun the gliding flood,
The silver swans her hapless fạte bemoan,
In notes more sad than when they sing their own;
In hollow caves sweet Echo silent lies,

Silent, or only to her name replies ;
Her name with pleasure once she taught the shore,
Now Daphne's dead, and pleasure is no more !

No grateful dews descend from ev'ning skies, 45 Nor morning odours from the flow'rs arise ; No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field, Nor fragrant herbs their native incense yield. The balmy Zephyrs, silent since her death, Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath; Th' industrious bees neglect their golden store ! Fair Daphne's dead, and sweetness is no more ! - No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, Shall list'ning in mid-air suspend their wings; No more the birds shall imitate her lays, 55 Or hush'd with wonder, hearken from the sprays : No more the streams their murmurs shall forbear, A sweeter music than their own to hear, But tell the reeds, and tell the vocal shore, Fair Daphne's dead, and music is no more! бо

Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze, And told in sighs to all the trembling trees;



I 3

The trembling trees, in ev'ry plain and wood,
Her fate remurmur to the silver flood;
The silver flood, so lately calm, appears

65 Swell’d with new passion, and o'erflows with tears ; The winds, and trees, and floods, her death deplore, Daphne, our grief ! our glory now no more !

But see! where Daphne wond'ring mounts on high, Above the clouds, above the starry sky!

70 Eternal beauties grace the shining scene, Fields ever fresh, and groves for ever green ! There while you rest in amaranthine bow'rs, Or from those meads select unfading flow'rs, Behold us kindly, who your name implore, 75 Daphne, our Goddess, and our grief no more !

LYCIDAS. How all things listen, while thy Muse complains ! Such silence waits on Philomela's strains, In some still ev'ning, when the whisp'ring breeze Pants on the leaves, and dies


the trees. 86 To thee, bright Goddess, oft a lamb shall bleed, If teeming ewes increase my fleecy breed. While plants their shade, or flow'rs their odours give, Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise shall live!



But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews; Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse ; Sharp Boreas blows, and Nature feels decay, Time conquers all, and we must Time obey.




Adieu, ye vales, ye mountains, streams, and groves,
Adieu, ye shepherds' rural lays and loves;
Adieu, my flocks; farewel, ye sylvan crew;
Daphne, farewel; and all the world adieu !

Ver. 89,&c.] These four last lines allude to the several subjects of the four Pastorals, and to the several scenes of them, particularized before in each.





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