Classic Poem

MOPSUS
The nymphs bewail'd poor Daphnis hapless death
Ev'n in the bloom of life depriv'd of breath.
The limpid streams with ruefull murmurs flow
And all the withering woods confess their woe
While his sad mother frantick with despair
Accus'd the Gods and curs'd each luckless star.
That day, that mournfull day, no chearfull song
With pleasing sound allur'd the rural throng.
The sympathising cattle hung their heads
Nor crop'd the tastefull herb, nor trac'd the verdant meads.
Touch'd with thy fate Numidia's lyons roar
And spread their echoing grief from shore to shore.
By Daphnis skill th'Armenian tigers broke
Endur'd the stinging lash, and tamely bore the yoke.
Daphnis with ivy wreath'd the jav'lins round
And trod to Bacchus praise the mystick ground.
As vines the elms, as grapes adorn the vine,
As corn the fields, as bulls the herds of kine,
So much our splendour was encreas'd by thine.
Now, at thy fall incens'd, the rural Gods
Withdraw their cars and seek the blesst abodes.
In vain the lab'ring hind manures the plain,
The banefull weeds spring up, and choak the grain.
Now each parterre with thorny brakes is fill'd
Where late the lilies mix'd with violets smil'd.
Ye swains! bestrow the ground with leaves and spread
O'er all the warbling founts a cooling shade.
On his dead body let a tomb be plac'd
And be the stone with this inscription grac'd:
" Here fairer than his flock the shepherd lyes
Whose fame from earth resounded to the skies."
Now beauteous Daphnis cloath'd with heav'nly light
Shuns Pluto's Kingdoms and the Realms of Night.
Beneath his feet admires each shining Star,
And sees the Motions of th'Harmonious Sphere.
Pleasure in ev'ry Nymph and Shepherd reigns,
And banish'd Sorrow flies the joyous Plains.
The harmless Wolves no more our Cattle fear,
No toils shall intercept the nimble Deer.
Rocks send their acclamations to the Skie,
And Woods and Mountains hail the Deity.
Attend my prayers propitious, hear my vow
Here have I rais'd four sacred altars, two
To great Latona's Son, and two to you.
Two Bowls with oyl and Milk I'll yearly crown,
And pour them on the consecrated Stone.
Then we with wine will drown our troubles, laid
If winter by the fire; if Summer, in the Shade.
Thyrsis while sings shall the gods
That range Lascivious through the lonesome roads
When to the nymphs the swain due homage pays
Libations we shall pour to Daphnis praise
While Boars the rocks, while Fish the Rivers love,
While Bees shall feed on Thyme, and Birds shall haunt the grove
Thou shalt with Bacchus equal honours share,
The Swains shall pay their vows, and thou shalt hear their prayer.