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Hic gelidi fontes, hic mollia prata, Lycori :
Hiç nemus; hic ipfo tecum consumerer &vo.
Nunc infanus amor duri me Martis in ar.nis;
Tela inter media, atque adversos detinet hoftes.
T34 procul a patria (nec sit mihi credere) tantum
Alpinas, ah dura, nives, & frigore Rheni
Me fine sola vides. Ah te ne frigora lædant !
Ah tibi ne teneras glacies secet aspera plantas !

Here cooling fountains roll thro' flow'ry meads,
Here woods, Lycoris, lift their verdant heads;
Here could I wear iny careless life away,
And in thy arms insensibly decay.
Instead of that, me frantick love detains
Mid foes, and dreadful darts, and bloody plains :
While you - and can my soul the tale believe,
Far from your country, lonely wand'ring leave
Me, me your lover, barbarous fugitive!
Seek the rough Alps where snows eternal shine,
And joyless borders of the frozen Rhine.
Ah! may no.cold e'er blalt my dearest maid,
Nor pointed ice thy tender feet invade !

WARTON,

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He then turns his thougłts on every side, in quest of something that may solace or amuse him : he proposes happiness to himself, first in one scene and then in another; and at last finds that nothing wvill satisfy

Jam neque Hamadryades rursum, nec carmina nobis
Ipsa placent : ipfæ rursum concedite sylve.
Non illum noftri poljunt mutare labores ;
Nic si frigoribus mediis Hebrumque bibamus,
Scithoniasque nives hyemis fubeamus aquofæ :
Nee si, cum moriens alta liber aret in ulmo,
Æthiopum verfemus oves fub fidere Cancri,

Omnia vincit amor; et nos cedamus amori.
Vou, III.

·P

But

But now again no more the woodland maids,
Nor pastoral songs delight - Farewell, ye shades-
No toils of ours the cruel god can change,
Tho' loft in frozen deserts we should range ;
Tho' we should drink where chilling Hebrus flows,
Endure bleak winter's blasts, and Thracian snows;
Or on hot India's plains our flocks should feed,
Where the parch'd elm declines his fickening head;
Beneath fierce-glowing Cancer's fiery beams,
Far from cool breezes and refreshing streams.
Love over all maintains resistless sway,
And let us love's all-conquering power obey.

WARTON.

But notwithstanding the excellence of the tenth pastoral, I cannot forbear to give the preference to the first, which is equally natural and more diverfified. The complaint of the shepherd, who saw his old companion at ease in the shade, while himself was driving his little fock he knew not whither, is such as, with variation of circumstances, misery always utters at the sight of prosperity :

Nos patriæ fines, & dulcia linquimus arva;
Nos patriam fugimus : tu, Tityre, lentus in umbra,
Formosam refonare doces Amaryllida sylvas.

We leave our country's bounds, our much lov'd plains ;
We from our country Ay, unhappy swains !
You, Tit'rus, in the groves at leisure laid,
Teach Amaryllis' name to every shade. . WARTON.

His account of the difficulties of his journey, gives a very tender image of pastoral distress :

En

En ipfe capellas
Protenus ager ago: hanc etiam vix, Tityre, duco :
Hic inter densas corylos modo namque gemellos,
Spem gregis, ah! filice in nuda connixa reliquit.

And lo! sad partner of the general care,
Weary and faint I drive my goats afar!
While scarcely this my leading hand sustains,
Tir’d with the way, and recent from her pains ;
For ʼmid yon tangled hazels as we past,
On the bare flints her hapless twin the cast,
The hopes and promise of my ruin'd fold !

WARTON.

The description of Virgil's happiness in his little farm, combines almost all the images of rural pleafure; and he, therefore, that can read it with indifference, has no sense of pastoral poetry :

Fortunate fenex, ergo tua rura manebunt,
Et tibi magna fatis ; quamvis lapis omnia nudusz
Limofoque palus obducat pafcua juncos
Non injueta gravis tentabunt pabula fretas,
Nec mala vicini pecoris contagia lædent.
Fortunate fenex, his inter Alumina nota,
Et fontes facros, frigus captabis opacum.
Hinc tibi, quæ femper vicino ab limite fepes,
Hyblæis apibus florem depasta falikti,
Sæpe levi fomnum fuadebit inire susurro.
Hinc aliâ sub rupe canet frondator ad auras ;
Nec tamen interea rauce, tra cura, palumbes,
Nec gemere aëria ceffabit turtur ab ulmo.

!

Happy old man! then still thy farms restor'd,
Enough for thee, shall bless thy frugal board.
What tho'rough stones the naked soil o'erspread,
Or marlhy bulrush rear its wat'ry head,

No foreign food thy teeming ewes shall fear,
No touch contagious spread its influence here.
Happy old man ! here 'mid th' accustom'd streams
And sacred springs, you'll fhun the scorching beams;
While from yon willow-fence, thy pasture's bound,
The bees that suck their flow'ry stores around,
Shall sweetly mingle, with the whispering boughs,
Their lulling murmurs, and invite repose :
While from steep rocks the pruner's song is heard ;
Nor the soft-cooing dove, thy fav'rite bird,
Mean while shall ceafe to breathe her melting strain,
Nor turtles from th' aerial elm to plain.

WARTON.

It may be observed, that these two poems were produced by events that really happened; and may, therefore, be of use to prove, that we can always feel more than we can imagine, and that the most artful fiction must give way to truth.

I am, SIR,

Your humble servant,

DUBIUS.

NUMB. 95. TUESDAY, OEtober 2, 1753.

Dulcique animos novitate tenebo.

OVID.

And with sweet novelty your soul detain.

IT

T is often charged upon writers, that with all

their pretensions to genius and discoveries, they do little more than copy one another; and that compositions obtruded upon the world with the pomp of novelty, contain only tedious repetitions of common sentiments, or at best exhibit a transposition of known images, and give a new appearance to truth only by some flight difference of dress and decoration.

The allegation of resemblance between authors, is indisputably true; but the charge of plagiarism, which is raised upon it, is not to be allowed with equal readiness.

A coincidence of sentiment may easily happen without any communication, since there are many occasions in which all reasonable men will nearly think alike. Writers of all ages have had the fame sentiments, because they have in all ages had the same objects of speculation ; the interests and passions, the virtues and vices of mankind, have been diversified in different times, only by unessential and casual varieties; and we must, therefore, expect in the works of all those who attempt to describe them, such a likeness as we find in

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