Bufinefs there, Mopfus had advifed him not to go near the Court, which he calls the Magazine of idle Sounds, threatning him with abundance of Things that should happen to him, inftead of which, he tells Amintas how he was invited thither, and with what Grace he was receiv'd, and with what Rewards honour'd, contrary to the Prediction of the wicked and falfe Mapfus; on which Grounds he encourages him to pursue his Love, and promifes him Succefs, which happens accordingly.

Mr. Pope, in his third Paftoral, makes Egon a Shepherd fay, that Pan ask'd him if he was under a Charm of Magick? Which is intimating more than the other Poets, as if there was fuch a Thing in reallity, otherways a God would not have afk'd fuch a Queftion. Egon fays :

Refound, ye Hills, refound my mournful Lay! The Shepherds cry, "Thy Flocks are left a Prey"Ah! What avails it me the Flocks to keep ! Who loft my Heart while I preferv'd my Sheep. Pan came, and afk'd what Magick caus'd my Smart, Or what ill Eyes malignant Glances dart.

This is to be confidered, that Pan is but a Sylvan Deity, that is, one of the lower Rank, and the laft two Lines may be taken rather as a Suggestion, rifing in the Breaft of the Shepherd, than a Suppofition of a real Appearance of Pan, and the next two Lines make it plain, that his laft Determination is, that there is indeed no fuch Thing as Magick:

What Eyes but her's; alas ! have Power to move! And is there Magick but what dwells in Love?

Young as Mr. Pope was when he wrote his Paftorals, we will not fhew fo little Efteem for his Judgment, as to fancy that he fubfcrib'd to Magick, Witch

craft

craft is now pretty well exploded, though in former Years many Perfons fuffered Death, it having been pretended they were prov'd guilty of it, but now (for any Law to the contrary) People may bewitch one another as faft as they can.

The firft Notions of it are from Superftition, that Bane of all Minds, where it prevails; nay, the Delufion run fo high, that many Perfons ufing Means with Intention to hurt or harm other People, if thofe People came to any Harm, or did not profper, both the Sufferer and the Self-deceiv'd imaginary Witch or Wizard, thought it was the Effect of Charms.

Mr. Philips differs a little from Mr. Pope, Colinet makes heavy and grievous Complaint of his Unhap pinefs, and thinks that all Nature confpires against him to make him wretched, to which Thenot replies Thenot.

Sure thou in fome ill-chofen Hour waft born, When blighting Mill-dews fpoil the rifing Corn; Or when the Moon, by Witchcraft charm'd foreThro' fad Eclipfe a various Train of Woes, [fhows, Untimely born, ill Luck betides thee ftill.

Colinet.

And can there, Thenot, be a greater Ill?

Thenot.

Nor Wolf, nor Fox, nor Rot amongst our Sheeps From these the Shepherd's Care his Flock may keep Againft ill Luck all cunning Forefight fails; Whether we fleep or wake, it nought avails.

Colinet.

Ah me the while! Ah me the lucklefs Day! Ahluckless Lad! the rather might I fay.

Unhappy

Unhappy Hour! when first, in youthful Bud,
I left the fair Sabrina's filver Flood:
Ah filly I! More filly than my Sheep,
Which on thy flow'ry Banks I once did keep.
Sweet are thy Banks! Oh when shall I once more
With longing Eyes review thy flow'ry Shore?
When, in the Crystal of thy Waters, fee
My Face, grown wan thro' Care and Mifery?
When shall I see my Hut, the small Abode
Myfelf had rais'd and cover'd o'er with Sod?
Tho' fmall it be, a mean and humble Cell,
Yet there is room for Peace and me to dwell.

Here all manner of Thoughts of Magick is laid afide, and all is afcribed to Fortune that happens to us. It is Lucklefs Lad! Unhappy Hour! and Lucklefs Day! and not the Force of Charms, that caufes the Shepherd's Unreft.

Thus far our Arcadian Poets; and now our other two, who fetch their Thoughts no farther than from their Native Country, Mr. Gay, inftead of a Sylvia or Amarillis, has chose the Parfon's Maid; and for his Witchcraft, that of no higher Sort than studied and practis'd by Gypfies:

Laft Friday's Eve, when as the Sun was set,
I, near yon Stile, three fallow Gypfies met :
Upon my Hand they caft a poring Look,

Bid me beware, and thrice their Heads they shook;
They faid, that many Croffes I muft prove,
Some in my wordly Gain, but most in Love.
Next Morn I mifs'd three Hens and our old Cock,
And off the Hedge two Pinners and a Smock.
I bore thefe Loffes with a Chriftian Mind,
And no Mishaps could feel, whilft thou wert kind.
But fince, alafs! I grew my Colin's Scorn,
I've known no Pleafure, Night, or Noon, or Morn.

Help

Help me, ye Gypfies, bring him home again,
And to a constant Lafs give back her Swain.

If there wants Nature and Humour here, despair of finding it in Description; though equally excellent, and equal to any Thing of the Kind we ever met with, is the Defcription of the fuppos'd Witch by Bauldy, in the Gentle Shepherd of Mr. Allan Ramfay he, certainly, as a Paftoral Writer, exceeds Mr. Gay, (though may-be only equal to him in this Place) not only as he has a great many Characters and more Scope, but even in his Diction and Choice of Terms. The following Quotation is exceeding fine, it declares a great many finifh'd Strokes from a very Mafterly Hand:

O Peggy, fweeter than the dawning Day, Sweeter than a gowany b Glens or new-mawn Hay: Blyther than Lambs that frifk out-oer the Knows, Straighter than ought that in the Foreft grows: Her Een the cleareft Blob of Dew outfhines; The Lilly in her Breaft its Beauty tines. [Een, Her Legs, her Arms, her Cheeks, her Mouth, her Will be my c Deid, that will be shortly feen! For Pate loos her,waes me! and the loes Pate; And I with Neps, by fome unlucky Fate, Made a d daft Vow!-O! but ane be a Beaft, That makes rafh Aiths, 'till he's afore the Prieft. I darna fpeak my Mind, elle a' the three, Bot e Doubt, wad prove ilk ane my Enemy. "Tis f fair to g thole-I'll try fome Witchcraft Art, To brak with ane, and win the other's Heart. Here Maufy lives, a Witch, that for sma' Price, Can caft herb Cantraips, and give me Advice. She can o'ercaft the Night, and cloud the Moon, And mak the Deils obedient to her Crune.

At Midnight Hours o'er the Kirk-yard the raves,
And a howks uncriften'd, b Weans out of their
Boils up their Livers in a Warlock's Pow; [Graves ¿
Rins witherfhins about the Hamlock Low;

And feven Times does her Pray'rs backwards pray,
Till Plotcock comes with Lumps of Lapland Clays
Mixt with the Venom of black Taids and Snakes.
Of this d'unfonfy Pictures aft fhe makes
Of any ane the hates; and gats expire
With flaw and racking Pains afore a Fire,
Stuck fou of Prines; the devilifh Pictures melt,.
The Pain by Fowk they represent is felt.
And yonder's Maufe: Ay, ay, the kens fou weil,
When ane like me comes rinning to the Deil.
She and her Cat fit beeking in her Yard,

To fpeak my Errand ah! amaift I'm fear'd:
But I maun do't, tho' I fhou'd never thrive toy
They gallop.faft, that Deels and Laffes drive

f

old

This is all a Miftake of Bauldy taking a poor Woman to be a Witch, because fo reputed; and very well expreffes the common Notions of ignorant People, about the Power of thofe, to whom they are pleased to aferibe the Art of Witchcraft, or practifing diabolical and fupernatural Charms.

The more this Paftoral passes under our Eye, the more are we won to admire and praise it; every Reader may obferve, that in many Love Dialogues, either they are stuff'd with an unnatural and fulfome Fondness of the Woman, or fuch a Scorn and Waywardness of Behaviour, which is fuppos'd to be put. on by her, to fhow and exert the Power the has over her Lover; but it is very feldom feen that the Man and Woman meet, in the Dialogues of the Poets, (which is very natural, and what they often do in Life) with a reciprocal Affection openly profess'd to

each

digs. Children. moves contrary Ways. dunlucky.