SUMMER:

A shepherd's boy (he seeks no better name)[3] Led forth his flocks[4] along the silver Thame,[5] Where dancing sun-beams on the waters played,[6] And verdant alders formed a quiv'ring[7] shade;[8] Soft as he mourned, the streams forgot to flow,[9]5 The flocks around a dumb compassion show,[10] The Naïads wept in ev'ry wat'ry bow'r, And Jove consented in a silent show'r.[11] Accept, O Garth! the muse's early lays, That adds this wreath of ivy to thy bays;[12]10 Hear what from love unpractised hearts endure, From love, the sole disease thou canst not cure. Ye shady beeches, and ye cooling streams, Defence from Phœbus', not from Cupid's beams,[13] To you I mourn; nor to the deaf I sing,[14]15 "The woods shall answer, and their echo ring."[15] The hills and rocks attend my doleful lay, Why art thou prouder and more hard than they?[16] The bleating sheep with my complaints agree, They parched with heat, and I inflamed by thee.[17]20 The sultry Sirius burns the thirsty plains,[18] While in thy heart eternal winter reigns.[19] Where stray ye, muses, in what lawn or grove,[20] While your Alexis pines in hopeless love? In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides,25 Or else where Cam his winding vales divides?[21] As in the crystal stream I view my face,[22] Fresh rising blushes paint the wat'ry glass; But since those graces please thy eyes no more, I shun the fountains which I sought before.30 Once I was skilled in ev'ry herb that grew, And ev'ry plant that drinks the morning dew;[23] Ah wretched shepherd, what avails thy art, To cure thy lambs, but not to heal thy heart![24] Let other swains attend the rural care,35 Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces shear:[25] But nigh yon' mountain[26] let me tune my lays, Embrace my love, and bind my brows with bays.[27] That flute is mine which Colin's[28] tuneful breath Inspired when living, and bequeathed in death:[29]40 He said; Alexis, take this pipe,[30] the same That taught the groves my Rosalinda's name:[31] But now the reeds shall hang on yonder tree,[32] For ever silent, since despised by thee. Oh! were I made by some transforming pow'r45 The captive bird that sings within thy bow'r![33] Then might my voice thy list'ning ears employ, And I those kisses he receives enjoy. And yet my numbers please the rural throng,[34] Rough satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song:[35]50 The nymphs, forsaking ev'ry cave and spring,[36] Their early fruit, and milk-white turtles bring![37] Each am'rous nymph prefers her gifts in vain, On you their gifts are all bestowed again.[38] For you the swains their fairest flow'rs design,55 And in one garland all their beauties join; Accept the wreath which you deserve alone, In whom all beauties are comprised in one. See what delights in sylvan scenes appear! Descending gods have found Elysium here.[39]60 In woods bright Venus with Adonis strayed; And chaste Diana haunts the forest-shade. Come, lovely nymph, and bless the silent hours, When swains from shearing seek their nightly bow'rs; When weary reapers quit the sultry field,[40]65 And crowned with corn their thanks to Ceres yield. This harmless grove no lurking viper hides,[41] But in my breast the serpent love abides.[42] Here bees from blossoms sip the rosy dew, But your Alexis knows no sweets but you.70 O deign to visit our forsaken seats, The mossy fountains, and the green retreats![43] Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade; Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade; Where'er you tread, the blushing flow'rs shall rise,[44]75 And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.[45] O! how I long with you to pass my days,[46] Invoke the muses, and resound your praise! Your praise the birds shall chant in ev'ry grove,[47] And winds shall waft it to the pow'rs above.[48]80 But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain,[49] The wond'ring forests soon should dance[50] again, The moving mountains hear the pow'rful call, And headlong streams hang list'ning in their fall.[51] But see, the shepherds shun the noon-day heat,85 The lowing herds to murm'ring brooks retreat,[52] To closer shades the panting flocks remove; Ye gods! and is there no relief for love?[53] But soon the sun with milder rays descends To the cool ocean, where his journey ends:[54]90 On me love's fiercer flames for ever prey,[55] By night he scorches, as he burns by day.[56]