« EdellinenJatka »
In this Mr. Pope endeavour'd to imitate the Stile of Mr. Gay, but the last Line betrays him; his Arcadian Strain, which charmed him in his Youth, always was his Song, except as now, he by Force chang'd a Note or two: How different are his Verses in his fourth Pastoral, to the Memory of Mrs. Tempest:
The trembling Trees, in ev'ry Plain and Wood,
Can we forget how ev'ry Creature moan'd,
No joyous Pipe was heard, no Flocks were feen,
In yonder gloomy Grove ftretch'd out he lay,
As milk-white Swans on silver Streams do fhow, And filver Streams to gracé the Meadows flow; As Corn the Vales, and Trees the Hills adorn, So thou to thine an Ornament was born. Since thou, delicious Youth, didft quit the Plains, Th’ ungrateful Ground we till with fruitless Pains : In labour'd Furrows fow the Choice of Wheat, And over empty Sheaves in Harveft sweat: A thin Increase our woolly Substance yields, And Thorns and Thifles overspread the Fields.