Classic Poem

M ENALCAS .

Stay Mopsus, tell me, 'ere you go,
Am I a Wolf you fly me so?
Methinks thy Flocks run bleating too,
And frighted seem as well as you.

M OPSUS .

Let go Menalcas, you may guess.

M ENALCAS .

But that wou'd make our Friendship less:
A smother'd Grief, like pent up Fires,
Burns inly, and with one great Blaze expires:
But if you've Cause, and wou'd prolong the Smart,
Disclose the Burden of your troubled Heart,
Friendship like mine shoul'd always bear a Part.

M OPSUS .

Leave, leave me Shepherd, mine's too great to speak.

M ENALCAS .

I'll ease it then, and thus the Secret break.
Poor Swain thy Beard is matted, with thy Hair,
Thy Cloaths are rent, and thy dear Bosom bare:
I find thou'st heard the fatal News too soon,
Of perjur'd Sylvia's marrying Demophoon.

M OPSUS .

No, mine's a nobler Flame, unthinking Swain,
Than Sylvia e'er inspir'd, or e'er cou'd feign:
I some few Words of course perhaps might say,
But 'twas in Jest to pass the Time away.

M ENALCAS .

Ha! not in Love with Sylvia, as I fear'd,
Nor dost thou miss a Straggler from the Herd?
What then can be the Cause, dear Mopsus tell,
The Wolves beg Peace, and our great Pastor's well?

M OPSUS .

Dost thou not hear the Vales and Groves around,
Echo sad Plaints, and cast a dismal Sound?
The Trees look black, their blooming Liveries cast,
And Show'rs of Leaves like Tears fall down in Haste.
The Birds forget their Notes, the Streams to run,
And low'ring Clouds o'ercast the fainting Sun:
The whisling Winds to dismal Accents turn,
And Things inanimate in Concords mourn.
The Nymphs all pale, and with dischevell'd Hair
Do solemn Loads of sacred Cypress bear:
While some with Violets adorn her Herse,
And sing her Fame in never dying Verse.

M ENALCAS .

Dear Mopsus, tell the Shepherdess Name,
I dread to know, yet hope 'tis not the same.

M OPSUS .

Oh thou! the only Swain who hast not heard
The sad Effect of what we long have fear'd:
Know'st thou not Her who conquer'd all the Swains,
The charming Goddess of th' Arcadian Plains?
For whom we languish'd all and pin'd in Vain,
We sigh'd, we dy'd, yet blest the pleasing Pain:
While she unmov'd did to the Shades resort,
And her lov'd Lambs around her made their Court.
'Twas thus the reign'd sole Empress of the Plains,
The Joy, yet Grief of all the youthful Swains:
'Till Corin's Passion touch'd her tender Breast,
And Hymen's Rites the luckless Union blest:
Blest did I say? no rather curst that Hour,
Since from it's Date her Charms were robb'd of Pow'r,
And she has droop'd just like a fading Flower.
This ling'ring change her faithful Nymphs beheld,
And were with Sorrow and Amazement fill'd.
Each beg'd she wou'd admit of some Relief,
And by disclosing mitigate her Grief.
But she who knew Complaints were then too late;
In Silence nobly bore her rigid Fate:
And thus concealing of the fatal Dart,
It found immediate Passage to her Heart.
Now speak what can against my Grief be said,
Celia the Glory of our Plains is dead.

M ENALCAS .

No! no, with you I mourn bright Celia's Fall:
But since our Sorrow can't her Life recal,
Let us no more with Tears her Fate bemoan,
Such female Grief , I'm sure she wou'd disown.
Oh! that like you I cou'd her Worth proclaim,
And in your Numbers celebrate her Fame,
I'd make the Hills and Groves resound her fragrant Name.

M OPSUS .

My Numbers flow unequal, and my Verse
Too mean to wait on noble Celia's Herse:
Yet since you knew her not so well as I,
To sing her Praise my artless Muse shall try.

M ENALCAS .

Under yon' Poplar then let's take our Seat,
And by the purling Stream your Verse repeat.

M OPSUS

To her Creator's Will she did resign,
His Pow'r obey'd, but, Death, she conquer'd thine;
For her blest Soul unbodied nimbly flew
To God it's Maker, and it's Centre too:
Convoy'd by Angels thro' the starry Plain,
And by the full Choir met in heav'nly Strain:
Thus was she led to her celestial Seat,
In Angel Union and immensely great
Oh vast Beatitude! Oh boundless Bliss!
And thou blest Soul! that dost partake of this;
Who wer't while here the Wonder of Mankind,
Sublime your Actions were, your Sense refin'd;
Still like your self you mov'd in ev'ry Sphere,
A duteous Daughter, tender Sister were:
Indulgent Parent, chaste obliging Wife,
A faithful Friend, and of unspotted Life.
So humble, yet so nobly born as you,
Your Sex and Quality produce but Few.
How great's our Loss, how envious was our Fate,
That thus our wishes did anticipate?
Transfer'd you hence to Bliss ev'n in your Prime,
I wou'd — but dare not say before your Time.
Farewel thou best of Women Heaven's Choice!
While Life remains, with mournful Heart and Voice,
We must of our invidious Fate complain,
And mourn our Loss, altho' we mourn in vain.

M ENALCAS .

You've given the lovely Shepherdess her Due:

M OPSUS .

Oh no! this is not Half, but yet 'tis true,
Last night I walk'd amongst the Tombs alone,
And thought I saw this writ upon her Stone.
You that now rudely trample o'er the Dead,
Consider on whose sacred Dust you tread:
The Ground is hallow'd all, and does enfold
No common Corps, nor one of vulgar Mould:
But all that's Virtuous, Noble, Good, and Great,
All did conspire fair Celia to complete.

M ENALCAS .

Ah gentle Mopsus! don't give over yet,
'Twill be this Hour before the Sun is set:
I hung my Ears with Wonder on your Tongue,
And lost my self while you bright Celia sung.
Such Charms are in her Name ev'n tho' she's gone,
That I cou'd ever hear and ne'er have done.

M OPSUS .

Excuse me Shepherd if I now give o'er,
My grief o'erwhelms me, and I can no more:
To my low rural Lays she did encline,
And graciously accepted what was mine.
Oh pity then! th' unhappiest of all Swains!
Since bright Cecilia's dead the Glory of the Plains!