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II: SUMMER; OR, ALEXIS TO DR. GARTH - Alexander Pope, The Complete Poetical Works of Alexander Pope [1903]

Edition used:

The Complete Poetical Works of Alexander Pope. Cambridge Edition, ed. Henry W. Boynton (Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin and Co., 1903).

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II

SUMMER; OR, ALEXIS

TO DR. GARTH

    • A shepherd’s boy (he seeks no better name)
    • Led forth his flocks along the silver Thame,
    • Where dancing sunbeams on the waters play’d
    • And verdant alders form’d a quiv’ring shade.
    • Soft as he mourn’d, the streams forgot to flow,
    • The flocks around a dumb compassion show,
    • The Naiads wept in ev’ry wat’ry bower,
    • And Jove consented in a silent shower.
    • Accept, O Garth! the Muse’s early lays,
    • That adds this wreath of ivy to thy bays;
    • Hear what from love unpractis’d hearts endure,11
    • From love, the sole disease thou canst not cure.
    • Ye shady beeches, and ye cooling streams,
    • Defence from Phœbus’, not from Cupid’s beams,
    • To you I mourn; nor to the deaf I sing:
    • The woods shall answer, and their echo ring.
    • The hills and rocks attend my doleful lay,
    • Why art thou prouder and more hard than they?
    • The bleating sheep with my complaints agree,
    • They parch’d with heat, and I inflamed by thee.20
    • The sultry Sirius burns the thirsty plains,
    • While in thy heart eternal Winter reigns.
    • Where stray ye, Muses! in what lawn or grove,
    • While your Alexis pines in hopeless love?
    • In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides,
    • Or else where Cam his winding vales divides?
    • As in the crystal spring I view my face,
    • Fresh rising blushes paint the wat’ry glass;
    • But since those graces please thy eyes no more,
    • I shun the fountains which I sought before.30
    • Once I was skill’d in ev’ry herb that grew,
    • And ev’ry plant that drinks the morning dew;
    • Ah, wretched shepherd, what avails thy art,
    • To cure thy lambs, but not to heal thy heart!
    • Let other swains attend the rural care,
    • Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces shear:
    • But nigh yon mountain let me tune my lays,
    • Embrace my love, and bind my brows with bays.
    • That flute is mine which Colin’s tuneful breath
    • Inspired when living, and bequeath’d in death:40
    • He said, ‘Alexis, take this pipe, the same
    • That taught the groves my Rosalinda’s name.’
    • But now the reeds shall hang on yonder tree,
    • Forever silent, since despised by thee.
    • Oh! were I made by some transforming power
    • The captive bird that sings within thy bower!
    • Then might my voice thy list’ning ears employ,
    • And I those kisses he receives enjoy.
    • And yet my numbers please the rural throng,
    • Rough satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song;50
    • The nymphs, forsaking ev’ry cave and spring,
    • Their early fruit and milk-white turtles bring;
    • Each am’rous nymph prefers her gifts in vain,
    • On you their gifts are all bestow’d again.
    • For you the swains the fairest flowers design,
    • And in one garland all their beauties join;
    • Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,
    • In whom all beauties are comprised in one.
    • See what delights in sylvan scenes appear!59
    • Descending Gods have found Elysium here.
    • In woods bright Venus with Adonis stray’d,
    • And chaste Diana haunts the forest-shade.
    • Come, lovely nymph, and bless the silent hours,
    • When swains from shearing seek their nightly bowers;
    • When weary reapers quit the sultry field,
    • And, crown’d with corn, their thanks to Ceres yield.
    • This harmless grove no lurking viper hides,
    • But in my breast the serpent Love abides.
    • Here bees from blossoms sip the rosy dew,
    • But your Alexis knows no sweets but you.
    • O deign to visit our forsaken seats,71
    • The mossy fountains, and the green retreats!
    • Where’er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade;
    • Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade;
    • Where’er you tread, the blushing flowers shall rise,
    • And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
    • O! how I long with you to pass my days,
    • Invoke the Muses, and resound your praise!
    • Your praise the birds shall chant in ev’ry grove,
    • And winds shall waft it to the powers above.80
    • But would you sing, and rival Orpheus’ strain,
    • The wond’ring forests soon should dance again;
    • The moving mountains hear the powerful call,
    • And headlong streams hang list’ning in their fall!
    • But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat,
    • The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat,
    • To closer shades the panting flocks remove:
    • Ye Gods! and is there no relief for love?
    • But soon the sun with milder rays descends
    • To the cool ocean, where his journey ends.90
    • On me Love’s fiercer flames forever prey,
    • By night he scorches, as he burns by day.