ON THE DEATH OF DAMON.

THE ARGUMENT.

Thyrsis and Damon, shepherds and neighbours, had always pursued the same studies, and had, from their earliest days, been united in the closest friendship. Thyrsis, while travelling for improvement, received intelligence of the death of Damon, and after a time, returning and finding it true, deplores himself, and his solitary condition, in this poem.

By Damon is to be understood Charles Deodati, connected with the Italian city of Lucca by his father's side, in other respects an Englishman; a youth of uncommon genius, erudition, and virtue.

YE Nymphs of Himera, (for ye have shed
Erewhile for Daphnis, and for Hylas dead,
And over Bion's long-lamented bier,

The fruitless meed of many a sacred tear,)

Now through the villas laved by Thames rehearse
The woes of Thyrsis in Sicilian verse,

What sighs he heaved, and how with groans profound
He made the woods and hollow rocks resound,
Young Damon dead; nor even ceased to pour
His lonely sorrows at the midnight hour.

The green wheat twice had nodded in the ear,
And golden harvest twice enrich'd the year,
Since Damon's lips had gasp'd for vital air
The last, last time, nor Thyrsis yet was there;
For he, enamour'd of the muse, remain'd
In Tuscan Fiorenza long detain'd,

But, stored at length with all he wish'd to learn,
For his flock's sake, now hasted to return;
And when the shepherd had resumed his seat
At the elm's root, within his old retreat,

Then 'twas his lot then all his loss to know,

And from his burden'd heart he vented thus his woe:

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Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due

To other cares than those of feeding you.

Alas! what deities shall I suppose

In heaven, or earth, concern'd for human woes,
Since, O my Damon! their severe decree
So soon condemns me to regret of thee!
Depart'st thou thus, thy virtues unrepaid
With fame and honour, like a vulgar shade!
Let him forbid it, whose bright rod controls,
And separates sordid from illustrious souls,
Drive far the rabble, and to thee assign
A happier lot with spirits worthy thine!

"Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due To other cares than those of feeding you.

Whate'er befall, unless by cruel chance

The wolf first give me a forbidding glance,

Thou shalt not moulder undeplored, but long

Thy praise shall dwell on every shepherd's tongue.

To Daphnis first they shall delight to pay,

And, after him, to thee the votive lay,

While Pales shall the flocks and pastures love,

Or Faunus to frequent the field or grove;

At least, if ancient piety and truth,
With all the learned labours of thy youth.

May serve thee aught, or to have left behind

A sorrowing friend, and of the tuneful kind.

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Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due To other cares than those of feeding you.

Who now my pains and perils shall divide,

As thou wast wont, for ever at my side,
Both when the rugged frost annoy'd our feet,
And when the herbage all was parch'd with heat;
Whether the grim wolf's ravage to prevent,
Or the huge lion's, arm'd with darts we went;
Whose converse now shall calm my stormy day,
With charming song who now beguile my way?

"Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due To other cares than those of feeding you.

In whom shall I confide? Whose counsel find

A balmy medicine for my troubled mind?

Or whose discourse with innocent delight

Shall fill me now, and cheat the wintry night,
While hisses on my hearth the pulpy pear,

And blackening chestnuts start and crackle there,
While storms abroad the dreary meadows whelm,
And the wind thunders through the neighbouring elm!

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'Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due To other cares than those of feeding you.

Or who, when summer suns their summit reach,
And Pan sleeps hidden by the sheltering beech,
When shepherds disappear, nymphs seek the sedge,
And the stretch'd rustic snores beneath the hedge,
Who then shall render me thy pleasant vein

Of Attic wit, thy jests, thy smiles again?

"Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due To other cares than those of feeding you.

Where glens and vales are thickest overgrown

With tangled boughs, I wander now alone,

Till night descend, while blustering wind and shower

Beat on my temples through the shatter'd bower.

"Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due

To other cares than those of feeding you.

Alas! what rampant weeds now shame my fields,
And what a mildew'd crop the furrow yields!

My rambling vines unwedded to the trees,

Bear shrivell'd grapes; my myrtles fail to please;

Nor please me more my flocks: they, slighted turn

Their unavailing looks on me, and mourn.

"Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due To other cares than those of feeding you.

Egon invites me to the hazel grove,
Amyntas, on the river's bank to rove,
And young Alphesibous, to a seat

Where branching elms exclude the mid-day heat.
'Here fountains spring-here mossy hillocks rise;
Here zephyr whispers, and the stream replies.'-
Thus each persuades, but, deaf to every call,
I gain the thickets, and escape them all.

"Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due To other cares than those of feeding you.

Then Mopsus said, (the same who reads so well
The voice of birds, and what the stars foretell,
For he by chance had noticed my return,)
'What means thy sullen mood, this deep concern?
Ah, Thyrsis, thou art either crazed with love,
Or some sinister influence from above;
Dull Saturn's influence oft the shepherds rue;
His leaden shaft oblique has pierced thee through.'
"Go, go, my lambs, unpastured as ye are,
My thoughts are all now due to other care.
The nymphs amazed, my melancholy see,

And, Thyrsis!' cry-what will become of thee?
What wouldst thou, Thyrsis? such should not appear
The brow of youth, stern, gloomy, and severe;

Brisk youth should laugh and love-ah, shun the fate
Of those, twice wretched mopes! who love too late!'
"" 7 Go, go, my lambs, unpastured as ye are;

My thoughts are all now due to other care.
Egle with Hyas came, to soothe my pain,
And Baucis' daughter, Dryope, the vain,
Fair Dryope, for voice and finger neat
Known far and near, and for her self-conceit;
Chloris too came, whose cottage on the lands
That skirt the Idumanian current stands;
But all in vain they came, and but to see
Kind words, and comfortable, lost on me.
"Go, go, my lambs, unpastured as ye are ;
My thoughts are all now due to other care.
Ah, blest indifference of the playful herd,
None by his fellow chosen, or preferr'd!
No bonds of amity the flocks inthral,
But each associates, and is pleased with all;
So graze the dappled deer in numerous droves,
And all his kind alike the zebra loves;
That same law governs, where the billows roar,
And Proteus' shoals o'erspread the desert shore;
The sparrow, meanest of the feather'd race,
His fit companion finds in every place,

With whom he picks the grain that suits him best,
Flirts here and there, and late returns to rest,
And whom, if chance the falcon makes his prey,

Or hedger with his well aim'd arrow slay,
For no such loss the gay survivor grieves,
New love he seeks, and new delight receives.
We only, an obdurate kind, rejoice,
Scorning all others, in a single choice.

We scarce in thousands meet one kindred mind,
And if the long-sought good at last we find,
When least we fear it, Death our treasure steals,
And gives our heart a wound that nothing heals.
Go, go, my lambs, unpastured as ye are ;
My thoughts are all now due to other cars.

Ah, what delusion lured me from my flocks,
To traverse Alpine snows and rugged rocks!
What need so great had I to visit Rome,
Now sunk in ruins, and herself a tomb?
Or, had she flourish'd still, as when, of old,
For her sake Tityrus forsook his fold,
What need so great had I to incur a pause
Of thy sweet intercourse for such a cause,
For such a cause to place the roaring sea,

Rocks, mountains, woods, between my friend and me?
Else, had I grasp'd thy feeble hand, composed
Thy decent limbs, thy drooping eyelids closed,
And, at the last, had said- Farewell-ascend-
Nor even in the skies forget thy friend!'

"Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare;
My thoughts are all now due to other care.
Although well pleased, ye tuneful Tuscan swaing
My mind the memory of your worth retains,
Yet not your worth can teach me less to mourn
My Damon lost.-He too was Tuscan born,
Born in your Lucca, city of renown!
And wit possess'd, and genius, like your own.
Oh how elate was I, when, stretch'd beside
The murmuring course of Arno's breezy tide,
Beneath the poplar grove I pass'd my hours,
Now cropping myrtles, and now vernal flowers,
And hearing, as I lay at ease along,

Your swains contending for the prize of song!
I also dared attempt (and, as it seems,

Not much displeased attempting) various themes,
For even I can presents boast from you,
The shepherd's pipe, and ozier basket too,
And Dati and Francini both have made
My name familiar to the beechen shade,
And they are learn'd, and each in every place
Renown'd for song, and both of Lydian race.

"Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare;
My thoughts are all now due to other care.
While bright the dewy grass with moonbeams shone,
And I stood hurdling in my kids alone,

How often have I said (but thou hadst found
Ere then thy dark cold lodgment underground),
Now Damon sings, or springes sets for hares,
Or wickerwork for various use prepares!
How oft, indulging fancy, have I plann'd
New scenes of pleasure that I hoped at hand,
Call'd thee abroad as I was wont, and cried-
What, hoa! my friend-come lay thy task aside;
Haste, let us forth together, and beguile
The heat beneath yon whispering shades awhile,
Or on the margin stray of Colne's clear flood,
Or where Cassibelan's grey turrets stood!
There thou shalt cull me simples, and shalt teach
Thy friend the name and healing powers of each.

From the tall bluebell to the dwarfish weed,
What the dry land, and what the marshes breed,
For all their kinds alike to thee are known,
And the whole art of Galen is thy own.'
Ah, perish Galen's art, and wither'd be
The useless herbs that gave not health to thee!
Twelve evenings since, as in poetic dream,
I meditating sat some statelier theme,

The reeds no sooner touch'd my lip, though new.
And unessay'd before, than wide they flew,
Bursting their waxen bands, nor could sustain
The deep-toned music of the solemn strain;
And I am vain perhaps, but I will tell
How proud a theme I chose-ye groves, farewell
"Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare;
My thoughts are all now due to other care.
Of Brutus, Dardan chief, my song shall be,
How with his barks he plough'd the British sea,
First from Rutupia's towering headland seen,
And of his consort's reign, fair Imogen;
Of Brennus and Belinus, brothers bold,
And of Arviragus, and how of old

Our hardy sires the Armorican controll'd,
And of the wife of Gorloïs, who, surprised
By Uther, in her husband's form disguised,
(Such was the force of Merlin's art,) became
Pregnant with Arthur of heroic fame.

These themes I now revolve-and oh-if Fate
Proportion to these themes my lengthen'd date,
Adieu my shepherd's reed-yon pine-tree bough
Shall be thy future home, there dangle thou
Forgotten and disused, unless ere long
Thou change thy Latian for a British song:
A British ?-even so-the powers of man
Are bounded; little is the most he can;
And it shall well suffice me, and shall be
Fame and proud recompence enough for me,
If Usa, golden-hair'd, my verse may learn,
If Alain bending o'er his crystal urn,

Swift-whirling Abra, Trent's o'ershadow'd stream.
Thames, lovelier far than all in my esteem,
Tamar's ore-tinctured flood, and, after these,
The wave-worn shores of utmost Orcades.
"Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare;
My thoughts are all now due to other care.
All this I kept in leaves of laurel rind
Enfolded safe, and for thy view design'd,
This and a gift from Manso's hand beside,
(Manso, not least his native city's pride,)
Two cups that radiant as their giver shone,
Adorn'd by sculpture with a double zone.
The spring was graven there; here slowly wind
The Red Sea shores with groves of spices lined;
Her plumes of various hucs amid the boughs