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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530105" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Eclogue</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now early shepheards ore ye meadow pass,<br>And print long foot-steps in the glittering grass;<br>The Cows unfeeding near the cottage stand,<br>By turns obedient to the Milkers hand,<br>Or loytring stretch beneath an Oaken shade,<br>Or lett the suckling Calf defraud the maid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When Harry softly trod the shaven lawn,<br>Harry a youth from Citty care with drawn,<br>Unlike the lowly swains Arcadia bore,<br>Their Pipes but sounded in the days of yore:<br>Now Gales regardless range the Vaults above,<br>And No fond swain believes they sigh for love,<br>No more the Waters sympathising weep;<br>Our Lads unskilld in musick tend the sheep;<br>For Tom and Will our Yellow Ceres waves,<br>And Kate instead of Chloris binds ye sheaves.<br>Sicilian Muse thy higher strains explore,<br>Thy higher strains may suit with nature more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Long was the pleasing Walk he wanderd through;<br>A Coverd arbour closd ye distant View:<br>Cross-sloping railes a lattice front supplyd,<br>And twind the flowring woodbine crept aside.<br>There rests the Youth, and while the featherd throng<br>Raise their wild Musick, thus contrives a song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here wafted o're by mild Etesian air<br>Thou Country Goddess Beautious Health repair;<br>Here lett my breast thro' quiv'ring trees inhale,<br>Thy rosy blessings with the Morning gale.<br>The Months that wake ye fragrant year renew,<br>The Sun is golden and the skys are blue,<br>Fair silver sprinklings fill ye walk with light,<br>The boughs are verdant and the blossoms white;<br>Yet what are these, or those, or all I see,<br>Ah Joyless all! if not enjoyd with thee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come Country Goddess come, nor thou suffice,<br>But bring thy Mountain Sister Exercise.<br>Calld by thy lively voice she turns her pace,<br>Her winding horn proclaims a finishd chace,<br>She bounds the rocks, she skims ye level plain,<br>Dogs hawks and horses croud her early train,<br>Her hardy face repells the tanning wind, <br>And lines and meshes loosely float behind.<br>These all as means of toil the feeble see,<br>But these are helps of pleasure all wth thee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O come the Goddess of my rural Song,<br>And bring thy daughter calm content along,<br>Dame of the ruddy cheek & laughing eye,<br>From whose bright presence clouds of trouble fly;<br>For her I mow my walks, I platt my bowrs,<br>Clip my low hedges & support my flowrs.<br>To wellcome her this summer seat I drest;<br>And here Ile court her when she comes to rest.<br>She'le lead from exercise to learned Ease,<br>And Change again, & teach ye change to please.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Joy to my soul! I feel the Goddess nigh,<br>The face of Nature cheers as well as I.<br>Ore the flat Green refreshing Breezes run<br>To make young Dazys blow beneath the sun;<br>While limpid waters to the bottom seen<br>Lave the soft margin of the lovely Green,<br>Brisk chirping birds from all the compass rove<br>To tempt ye warbling Ecchoes of ye grove,<br>High sunny summits, deeply-shaded dales,<br>Thick mossy banks, and flowry winding vales,<br>With Various prospect gratify the sight,<br>And scatter fixd attention with delight.<br>Till the raisd soul by gay confusion wrought<br>Within a sphear of pleasure rolls on thought.<br>Here beautious Health for all ye year remain,<br>When ye next comes I'le charm thee thus again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But rustling boughs yt round my temples play,<br>Drive the deep doze of Vision swift away.<br>Lett sloth ly softning till the noon in down,<br>Or lolling fan her in the sultry town,<br>Unnerve with rest & turn her own disease,<br>Or foster others in luxurious ease.<br>I mount the Courser, call ye deep'ning hounds,<br>The fox unkennelld flys to covert grounds.<br>I lead where stags through cumbrous thickets tread,<br>And shake the saplings with their branching head.<br>I make the falcons wing their airy way,<br>And soar to seize, or stooping, strike ye prey.<br>To snare ye fish I fix ye luring bait.<br>To Wound ye fowl I load ye gun with fate. <br>Tis thus through changing shows of toil I range,<br>And strength & pleasure rise in ev'ry change.<br>Here beautious Health for all ye year remain,<br>When the next comes Ile charm thee thus again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now friends my life with usefull talk refine,<br>And Tullys Tusculum revives in mine.<br>Now to grave books I bid ye mind retreat,<br>And such as make me rather good than great.<br>Or o're the works of easy fancy rove,<br>Where pipes and innocence amuse ye grove:<br>The Native Bard that on Sicilian plains<br>Best sung the lowly manners of the Swains;<br>Great Maro's Muse, that in the finest light<br>Paints Country prospects and the charms of sight;<br>Strong Spencers Calender, whose Moons appear<br>To trace their Changes in the rural year;<br>Sweet Pope whose lays along with Nature run<br>Through all the seasons which divide ye sun;<br>The tender Philips lines, who lately tryd<br>To plant Arcadia by the Severn side;<br>And Gentle Gays that happily explore<br>Those British Shepheards Spencer sought before.<br>The Soft Amusements bring content Along,<br>And Fancy, void of sorrow, runs to song.<br>Here Beautious Health for all ye year remain,<br>When the next comes Ile charm thee thus again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So sung the Youth. But now ye cool wth drew;<br>The sun had dryd the shaking drops of dew,<br>Then ragd with flames insufferably bright,<br>& shot the lattice with a checq'ring light;<br>The Zephirs fall, tho' not to hear his lay,<br>And in his shade the Flyes offensive play.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Parnell">Thomas Parnell</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530105" data-title="An Eclogue de Thomas Parnell" data-description="Now early shepheards ore ye meadow pass,
And print long foot-steps in the glittering grass;
The Cows unfeeding near the cottage stand,
By turns obedient to the Milkers hand,
Or loytring stretch beneath an Oaken shade,
Or lett the suckling Calf def..."></div>
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