A PASTORAL, from the Latin

O

of the fame.

N a firm rock, enroll'd in ancient fame,

A city stands, and EDINBURGH its name;
Here came fair Phyllis from her native hills,
Whose beauty all the Scottish maids excels;
First of the rural nymphs in Venus' arms,
Nor yet had twenty fummers crown'd her charms.
This lovely fair, her father's joy and pride,
Once, as the heedlefs pafs'd, Urbanus ey❜d.
Quick as the lightning darts from pole to pole,
An inftant paffion fir'd his am'rous foul;
With pray'rs and bribes he strove to win her mind,
But fhe, unmov'd, his tender fuit declin'd.
Soon then the ruthless rocks he rov'd among,
And with his plaints Arcturus' fummit rung.
Echo too heard his tear-exciting ftrain,
And back refounded every groan again.
Echo, fays he, alone laments my woe,

In hollow accents from the caves below.
My pipe fad warb'ling fills the groves around,
While fhe redoubles ev'ry plaintive found.
Ah! wretched me! I mournfully exclaim
Ah! wretched me! the vales repeat again.

O rupes! O mî quondam dilectaque faxa !
O valles folitas audire et reddere voces
Phyllidis auricomae! num jam mihi ferre poteftis
Auxilii quidquam rabidos lenire dolores?

Phyllis abeft, longumque vale mihi dixit; avenas,
Delicias quondam, fragiles perdamque cicutas.
Phyllis abeft, nec me delectant carmina, nec me
Lanigerive greges, dulcefve ante omnia mufae.
Naides, et fordent mihi munera vestra, nec ipse
Pan placeat, calamis fi quando inflare mifellis
Tentet, et ingentes divellere pectore curas.
O crudelis amor! crudelia faxa! bovesque
Crudeles! qui non fentitis pectoris Æftus:
Quales fornicibus ruptis ciet Ætna Typhois
Ore vomens lapidefque feros, flammasque globofque
In Siculos agros, liquefactaque faxa revolvit.

O pecora !

Alas! alas! I figh to ev'ry fhade;
Alas! alas! returns the piteous Maid.
Ye funny banks that once were my delight,

With precipices awful to the fight,

And vales that heard the bright-hair'd Phyllis fing,
What aid to me can all your beauties bring
Phyllis is gone, with her my pleasures flew,
Gone, and has bid a killing long adieu.
My pipe and brittle reed I'll now destroy;
Phyllis is fled, the fource of all my joy.
Not fongs, nor flocks, can now my blifs recal,
Nor charming Muses, sweeter than them all.
The blue-ey'd Naiads now delight no more,
Nor frolic Pan that sports the mountains o'er;
His idle reed no cure for me can find,
Mufic enchants alone th' unruff'd mind.
O cruel love! and cruel oxen too,

With favage rocks that never paffion knew ;
Thofe ills ye feel not that my foul infeft,
Nor raves the furious tempeft in your breast.
Such as when swells old Ætna's restless womb,
And burfts the caverns of Typhean gloom,
Fierce ftones, and flames, and globes of fiery red,
It spouts tremendous from its burning bed,
And rolls the melted fulph'rous mass amain,

A flaming river down Sicilia's plain.

O pecora! O caprae, crudeles vos quoque! noftri
Vos neque, paftores, miferefcitis. Improba faxa
Torreat acre gelu, montifque cacumina faevi
Horrefcant fubitis ventis, tumidifque procellis.
Perpetuo coelum contriftet bruma nivofis
Imbribus, aeternis rigeat fera terra pruinis.
Vos, pecora, infani perimant contagia morbi
Dira, vel innumeris jaceant laniata per agros
Membra lupis: fcelerata lues, vel numinis ira
Ultricis vigiles miferandâ morte magiftros
Tollat, et hos nemo plangat. Sed quo furor aegram
Impius abripuit mentem? Quid faxa? Quid aer?
Quid caprae? aut ovium quid commeruere magiftri ?
Quid vos devoveam? Piget, et malefane furenti
Dicta mihi, fimul et temeraria vota recanto.
Si rata namque forent quaecunque armata flagellis
Ira, aut praecipiti furibunda infania motu
Dictitat, Urbano quae fpes reftaret, ut iftas
Nympha memor noftri formofa reviseret oras?

Quin

You are relentless too, my fleecy care,

Ye, nor your fhepherds, pity my despair.
May frofts fevere the cruel rocks divide,
And fudden whirlwinds tear the mountain's fide;
May dark December reign with icy fnow,
And Boreas ever round the æther blow;

Let the hard earth with cold perpetual freeze,
Nor ever feel the balmy-breathing breeze.

And
you my flock, may madness seize your joy,
And dire diftempers all your race destroy;
Or wolves innumerable your members tear,
And far disperse them through the fields and air;
May the curs'd plague your watchful fwains con-
fume,

Or heav'n's dread thunder speak their inftant doom.
But why will fancy thús wild warfare wage,

And fwell my fick-mind with an impious rage?
How have the rocks and air arous'd my ire ?
Nor goats, nor fheep, nor fhepherds did conspire
To pain my bofom, nor to fix my fate;

Why then shall harmless these deserve my hate?
Oh, I repent! my furious vows recant,
With all my wrathful execrating rant.
For if what anger's fierce vindictive arm,
Or madness' rafh precipitate alarm,
Should bid, and in their order be obey'd,
How could I hope to fee the beauteous Maid?

No!