places in the Stead, a generous Beneficence and Benevolence, to that the Mind becomes perfectly ferene and humane.

Not lefs pleafing is our Devonshire Shepherd, Mr. Gay, tho' his Images are much more familiar. Sparabella bewails her loft Love, devifing her fad Plaint in these mournful Notes:

Come Night as dark as Pitch, furround my Head,
From Sparabella Bumkinet is fled;
The Ribbon that his val'rous Cudgel won,
Laft Sunday happier Clumfilis put on.
Sure, if he'd Eyes (but Love, they say, has none)
I whilome by that Ribbon had been known.
Ah, well a-day! I'm fhent with baneful Smart,
For with the Ribbon he beftow'd his Heart.

My Plaint, ye Laffes, with this Burthen aid, "Tis hard fo true a Damfel dies a Maid.

I've often feen my Visage in yon Lake,
Nor are my Features of the homelieft Make.
Though Clumfilis may boaft a whiter Dye,
Yet the black Sloe turns in my rolling Eye;
And faireft Bloffoms drop with ev'ry Blaft,
But the brown Beauty will like Hollies laft.
Her wan Complexion's like the wither'd Leek,
While Katherine Pears adorn my ruddy Cheek.
Yet fhe, alas! The witlefs Lout hath won,
And by her Gain, poor Sparabell's undone !
Let Hares and Hounds in coupling Straps unite,
The clocking Hen make Friendship with the Kite,
Let the Fox fimply wear the nuptial Noofe,
And join in Wedlock with the wadling Goofe;
For Love hath brought a ftranger Thing to pafs,
The fairest Shepherd weds the fouleft Lafs.

My Plaint, ye Laffes, with this Burthen aid,
Tis hard fo true a Damfel dies a Maid.

Ah !

Ah! didst thou know what Proffers I withstood, When late I met the Squire in yonder Wood! To me he sped, regardless of his Game, While all my Cheek was glowing red with Shame; My Lip he kiss'd, and prais'd my healthful Look, Then from his Purfe of Silk a Guinea took, Into my Hand he forc'd the tempting Gold, While I with modeft ftruggling broke his Hold. He swore that Dick in Liv'ry strip'd with Lace, Should wed me foon to keep me from Difgrace; But I nor Footman priz'd nor golden Fee, For what is Lace or Gold compar'd to thee?

My Plaint, ye Laffes, with this Burthen aid, 'Tis hard so true a Damfel dies a Maid.

An Image fo naturally painted, never fails to please good Judges; Mr. Gay has (I think we may venture to fay fo) pleas'd all, for he liv'd fuch an inoffenfive Life, that he made no Enemies, and in his Writings copied Nature fo closely, and kept up fuch a Spirit of Wit and good Humour in his Performances, that all judicious Readers were his Admirers.

Let us turn to our Dramatick Paftoral Writers, and juft fee how they have acquitted themselves, whether their Lovers do not complain as fweetly as poffible, and how finely Taffe has brought in Amintas fpeaking to Thyrfis, making him in his Reply affift the Love-fick and fcorn'd Shepherd.

Amintas.

O! I have heard the Waves and fenfelefs Stones, Echo my Sighs, and Trees return my Groans; Compaffion I muft never hope to fee In her whofe Chain I wear, that cruel the, Whofe lovely Form conceals a favage Heart, Where Want of Pity heightens all my Smart: L 2

Than

Than Things inanimate is she less kind,
And more fevere than shows an human Mind.

Thyrfis.

On tender Tops of Grafs the Lambkins feed ;
For hungry Wolves the tender Lambkins bleed;
But cruel Love is ever fed with Tears,
Yet never full, or fatisfied appears.

Amintas.

Ah! Thou miftak'ft, Lave will have other Food; Cloy'd with my Tears, he now demands my Blood: Love, and her Eyes, drink hourly from my Veins; Ah! quickly drain forth all, and end my Pains.

Thyrfis.

Alas! Amintas fpeak not fo diftreft;

But hope, and gather Comfort in thy Breaft;
Who knows but Time may cure, and thou may'ft find
Another Nymph as fair, and much more kind?
Amintas.

Is N

Loft to myfelf, no other me can please : Thy Remedies are not for my Disease.

Is not this Shepherddrawn as truly fick of Love? He has been us'd to figh alone, and remarks, that the Waves, and the very Stones, have echoed or replied to his Sighs and Sorrows, which he, quite defpairing, fays he expects not from Sylvia. The Anfwer of Thyrfis, concerning what Love feeds on, and the Reply of Amintas, are Beauties but feldom well imitated by our modern Poets: Indeed Mr. Allan Ramfay, who we will venture to compare to Taffo in many Places, and Mr. Gay in more, has (not illjudgingly) put Thoughts into his Shepherds, not lefs pleafing The Scene is between Patie, the MAJA

gentle

gentle Shepherd, and Roger, a rich Swain, who is deeply in Love with Jenny.

Patie.

This funny Morning, Roger, chears my Blood, And puts all Nature in a jovial Mood. How hartfome is't to see the rifing Plants, To hear the Birds chirm o'er their pleafing Rants? How halefome 'tis to fnuff the cawler Air,

And all the Sweets it bears, when void of Care. What ails thee, Roger, then? What gars thee Tell me the Caufe of thy ill-feafon'd Pain. (a) [grane?

Roger.

I'm born, O Patie, to a (b) thrawart Fate! I'm born to strive with Hardships fad and great. Tempests may cease to jaw the rowan Flood, Corbies and Tods to (c) grein for Lambkins Blood. But I, oppreft with never ending Grief, Maun ay despair of lighting on Relief.

Patie.

The Bees fhall loath the Flour, and quit the Hive, The (d) Saughs on boggie Ground fhall cease to thrive, Ere fcornful Queans, or Lofs of warldly Gear, Shall spill my Reft, or ever force a Tear.

Roger.

Sae might I fay; but it's no easy done By ane whase Saul is fadly out of Tune.

By this Time it must appear that our Countryman has an exceeding fine Talent at Pastoral, nor do we think, if the Paftoral we quote from, had been drefs'd in our more courtly Dialect, it would have been better clad.

Our

L3

(a) Groan. (b) Wayward. (c) long. (d) Willows.

Our laft Quotation on the Subject of the Complaints of Lovers, fhall be from Guarini; and now, Reader, if thou art delighted with fine Poetry, (as if thou art not, little Pleafure will arife to thee from reading this Book, it being of the Life and Writings of a Poet, who did little but what was in the Study and Purfuit thereof) thou fhalt find no fmall Contentment and Delight. After that Amaryllis (notwithstanding the bears a very ftrong Affection for Mirtillo) has given him a Repulse and Denial, and he by her Command is withdrawn, fhe exclaims this Soliloquy:

Mirtillo, Mirtillo, anima mia,
Se vedefti qui dentro,

Come ftà il cor di questa,

Che chiami crudeliffima Amarilii;
Sò ben, che tù di lei
Quella pietà, che da lei chiedi, havrefti.
O anime in amor troppo infelici.
Che giova à te, cor mio, l'effer amato ?
Che giova à me l'haver sì caro amante ?
Perche crudo deftino

Ne difunifci tù, s'amor ne ftringe?

E tù perche ne ftringi,

Se ne parte il deftin, perfido amore ?
O fortunate voi fere selvagge,

A cui l'alma natura

Non diè legge in amar, fe non d'amore:
Legge humana inhumana,

Che dai per pena de l'amar la morte.
"Se'l peccar è fi dolce,

"E'l non peccar fi neceffario; è troppo
"Imperfetta natura,
"Che repugni à la legge :
"O troppo dura legge,

<< Che