Poetry. Alexander Pope

No more the birds shall imitate her lays,

       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! 60

       Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze,

       And told in sighs to all the trembling trees;

       The trembling trees, in every plain and wood,

       Her fate remurmur to the silver flood;

       The silver flood, so lately calm, appears

       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 wondering 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 bowers,

       Or from those meads select unfading flowers,

       Behold us kindly, who your name implore,

       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 evening, when the whispering breeze

       Pants on the leaves, and dies upon the trees. 80

       To thee, bright goddess, oft a lamb shall bleed,

       If teeming ewes increase my fleecy breed.

       While plants their shade, or flowers their odours give,

       Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise shall live!

       THYRSIS.

       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; 90

       Adieu, my flocks; farewell, ye sylvan crew;

       Daphne, farewell; and all the world, adieu!

VARIATIONS.

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      VER. 29, 30—Originally thus in the MS.—

       'Tis done, and Nature's changed since you are gone;

       Behold, the clouds have put their mourning on.

       VER. 83, 84. Originally thus in the MS.—

       While vapours rise, and driving snows descend,

       Thy honour, name, and praise shall never end.

MESSIAH. — A SACRED ECLOGUE, IN IMITATION OF VIRGIL'S 'POLLIO.'

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ADVERTISEMENT.

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      In reading several passages of the Prophet Isaiah, which foretell the coming of Christ and the felicities attending it, I could not but observe a remarkable parity between many of the thoughts, and those in the 'Pollio' of Virgil. This will not seem surprising, when we reflect, that the eclogue was taken from a Sibylline prophecy on the same subject. One may judge that Virgil did not copy it line by line, but selected such ideas as best agreed with the nature of pastoral poetry, and disposed them in that manner which served most to beautify his piece. I have endeavoured the same in this imitation of him, though without admitting anything of my own; since it was written with this particular view, that the reader, by comparing the several thoughts, might see how far the images and descriptions of the prophet are superior to those of the poet. But as I fear I have prejudiced them by my management, I shall subjoin the passages of Isaiah and those of Virgil, under the same disadvantage of a literal translation.

      Ye Nymphs of Solyma! begin the song:

       To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong.

       The mossy fountains, and the sylvan shades,

       The dreams of Pindus and the Aonian maids,

       Delight no more—O Thou my voice inspire

       Who touch'd Isaiah's hallow'd lips with fire!

       Rapt into future times, the bard begun:

       A virgin shall conceive, a virgin bear a son!

       From Jesse's root behold the branch arise,

       Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies: 10

       The ethereal Spirit o'er its leaves shall move,

       And on its top descends the mystic Dove.

       Ye Heavens! from high the dewy nectar pour,

       And in soft silence shed the kindly shower!

       The sick and weak the healing plant shall aid,

       From storms a shelter, and from heat a shade.

       All crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail;

       Returning Justice lift aloft her scale;

       Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend,

       And white-robed Innocence from heaven descend. 20

       Swift fly the years, and rise the expected morn!

       Oh spring to light, auspicious Babe, be born!

       See, Nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring,

       With all the incense of the breathing spring!

       See lofty Lebanon his head advance,

       See nodding forests on the mountains dance:

       See spicy clouds from lowly Saron rise,

       And Carmel's flowery top perfumes the skies!

       Hark! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers;

       'Prepare the way! a God, a God appears:' 30

       'A God, a God!' the vocal hills reply,

       The rocks proclaim the approaching Deity.

       Lo, Earth receives him from the bending skies!

       Sink down, ye mountains, and ye valleys, rise;

       With heads declined, ye cedars, homage pay;

       Be smooth, ye rocks, ye rapid floods, give way!

       The Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold:

       Hear him, ye deaf, and all ye blind, behold!

       He from thick films shall purge the visual ray,

       And on the sightless eyeball pour the day: 40

       'Tis he the obstructed paths of sound shall clear,

       And bid new music charm th' unfolding ear:

       The