The trembling trees, in ev'ry plain and wood, The silver flood, so lately calm, appears 65 Swell'd with new passion, and o'erflows with tears; The winds, and trees, and floods, her death deplore, Daphne, our grief, our glory, now no more! 70 But see! where Daphne wond'ring mounts on high Above the clouds, above the starry sky! Eternal beauties grace the shining scene, Fields ever fresh, and groves for ever green! There, while you rest in amaranthyne bow'rs, Or from those meads select unfading flow'rs, Behold us kindly, who your name implore, Daphne, our goddess, and our grief no more! 75 Lyc. How all things listen, while thy muse complains! Such silence waits on Philomela's strains, In some still ev'ning, when the whisp'ring breeze To thee, bright goddess, oft a lamb shall bleed, 80 While plants their shade, or flow'rs their odours give, Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise shall live! Thyr. But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews; Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse; 86 Sharp Boreas blows, and Nature feels decay; 90 Time conquers all, and we must Time obey. The trembling trees, in ev'ry plain and wood, The silver flood, so lately calm, appears 65 Swell'd with new passion, and o'erflows with tears; The winds, and trees, and floods, her death deplore, Daphne, our grief, our glory, now no more! 70 But see! where Daphne wond'ring mounts on high Above the clouds, above the starry sky! Eternal beauties grace the shining scene, Fields ever fresh, and groves for ever green! There, while you rest in amaranthyne bow'rs, Or from those meads select unfading flow'rs, Behold us kindly, who your name implore, Daphne, our goddess, and our grief no more! 75 Lyc. How all things listen, while thy muse complains! Such silence waits on Philomela's strains, In some still ev'ning, when the whisp'ring breeze 80 While plants their shade, or flow'rs their odours give, Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise shall live! Thyr. But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews; Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse; 86 Sharp Boreas blows, and Nature feels decay; 90 Time conquers all, and we must Time obey. MESSIAH. A SACRED ECLOGUE, IN IMITATION OF VIRGIL'S POLLIO. YE Nymphs of Solyma! begin the song: Whose sacred flow'r with fragrance fills the skies: 10 Ye Heavens! from high the dewy nectar pour, |