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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341094" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Spring - The First Pastoral ; or Damon</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">First in these fields I try the sylvan strains,<br>Nor blush to sport on Windsor's blissful plains:<br>Fair Thames, flow gently from thy sacred spring,<br>While on thy banks Sicilian Muses sing;<br>Let vernal airs tho' trembling osiers play,<br>And Albion's cliffs resound the rural lay.<br>You, that too wise for pride, too good for pow'r,<br>Enjoy the glory to be great no more,<br>And carrying with you all the world can boast,<br>To all the world illustriously are lost!<br>O let my Muse her slender reed inspire,<br>Till in your native shades you tune the lyre:<br>So when the Nightingale to rest removes,<br>The Thrush may chant to the forsaken groves,<br>But, charm'd to silence, listens while she sings,<br>And all th' aerial audience clap their wings.<br>Soon as the flocks shook off the nightly dews,<br>Two Swains, whom Love kept wakeful, and the Muse<br>Pour'd o'er the whitening vale their fleecy care,<br>Fresh as the morn, and as the season fair:<br>The dawn now blushing on the mountain's side,<br>Thus Daphnis spoke, and Strephon thus reply'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Daphnis.<br>Hear how the birds, on ev'ry bloomy spray,<br>With joyous musick wake the dawning day!<br>Why sit we mute when early linnets sing,<br>When warbling Philomel salutes the spring? <br>Why sit we sad when Phosphor shines so clear,<br>And lavish nature paints the purple Year?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Strephon.<br>Sing, then, and Damon shall attend the strain,<br>While yon' slow oxen turn the furrow'd Plain.<br>Here the bright crocus and blue vi'let glow;<br>Here western winds on breathing roses blow.<br>I'll stake yon' lamb, that near the fountain plays,<br>And from the brink his dancing shade surveys.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Daphnis.<br>And I this bowl, where wanton Ivy twines,<br>And swelling clusters bend the curling vines:<br>Four figures rising from the work appear,<br>The various seasons of the rolling year;<br>And what is that, which binds the radiant sky,<br>Where twelve fair Signs in beauteous order lie?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Damon.<br>Then sing by turns, by turns the Muses sing,<br>Now hawthorns blossom, now the daisies spring,<br>Now leaves the trees, and flow'rs adorn the ground,<br>Begin, the vales shall ev'ry note rebound.<br>Inspire me, Phoebus, in my Delia's praise <br>With Waller's strains, or Granville's moving lays!<br>A milk-white bull shall at your altars stand,<br>That threats a fight, and spurns the rising sand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Daphnis.<br>O Love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize,<br>And make my tongue victorious as her eyes;<br>No lambs or sheep for victims I'll impart,<br>Thy victim, Love, shall be the shepherd's heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Strephon.<br>Me gentle Delia beckons from the plain,<br>Then hid in shades, eludes her eager swain;<br>But feigns a laugh, to see me search around,<br>And by that laugh the willing fair is found.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Daphnis.<br>The sprightly Sylvia trips along the green,<br>She runs, but hopes she does not run unseen;<br>While a kind glance at her pursuer flies,<br>How much at variance are her feet and eyes!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Strephon.<br>O'er golden sands let rich Pactolus flow,<br>And trees weep amber on the banks of Po;<br>Blest Thames's shores the brightest beauties yield,<br>Feed here my lambs, I'll seek no distant field.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Daphnis. <br>Celestial Venus haunts Idalia's groves;<br>Diana Cynthus, Ceres Hybla loves;<br>If Windsor-shades delight the matchless maid,<br>Cynthus and Hybla yield to Windsor-shade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Strephon.<br>All nature mourns, the Skies relent in show'rs,<br>Hush'd are the birds, and clos'd the drooping flow'rs;<br>If Delia smile, the flow'rs begin to spring,<br>The skies to brighten, and the birds to sing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Daphnis.<br>All nature laughs, the groves are fresh and fair,<br>The Sun's mild lustre warms the vital air;<br>If Sylvia smiles, new glories gild the shore,<br>And vanquish'd nature seems to charm no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Strephon.<br>In spring the fields, in autumn hills I love,<br>At morn the plains, at noon the shady grove,<br>But Delia always; absent from her sight,<br>Nor plains at morn, nor groves at noon delight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Daphnis.<br>Sylvia's like autumn ripe, yet mild as May,<br>More bright than noon, yet fresh as early day;<br>Ev'n spring displeases, when she shines not here;<br>But blest with her, 'tis spring throughout the year.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Strephon.<br>Say, Daphnis, say, in what glad soil appears,<br>A wond'rous Tree that sacred Monarchs bears:<br>Tell me but this, and I'll disclaim the prize,<br>And give the conquest to thy Sylvia's eyes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Daphnis.<br>Nay tell me first, in what more happy fields<br>The Thistle springs, to which the Lily yields:<br>And then a nobler prize I will resign;<br>For Sylvia, charming Sylvia, shall be thine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Damon.<br>Cease to contend, for, Daphnis, I decree,<br>The bowl to Strephon, and the lamb to thee:<br>Blest Swains, whose Nymphs in ev'ry grace excel;<br>Blest Nymphs, whose Swains those graces sing so well!<br>Now rise, and haste to yonder woodbine bow'rs,<br>A soft retreat from sudden vernal show'rs,<br>The turf with rural dainties shall be crown'd,<br>While op'ning blooms diffuse their sweets around.<br>For see! the gath'ring flocks to shelter tend,<br>And from the Pleiads fruitful show'rs descend.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alexander+Pope">Alexander Pope</a><div class=q>
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Nor blush to sport on Windsor's blissful plains:
Fair Thames, flow gently from thy sacred spring,
While on thy banks Sicilian Muses sing;
Let vernal airs tho' trembling osiers play,
And Albion's clif..."></div>
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