CATHARINA's
CAVE
.
By
Mr.
NEWTON
.
BENEATH
a
Mountain's
solitary
Shade
Liv'd
Catharina
,
then
an
ancient
Maid
,
An
useful
Dame
that
ev'ry
Simple
knew
,
And
from
choice
Herbs
exhal'd
a
cordial
Dew
.
Rude
was
her
Dome
,
and
hid
from
prying
Eyes
,
By
lofty
Hills
that
seem'd
to
reach
the
Skies
;
Deep
in
a
Rock
the
winding
Cavern
run
,
A
bending
Cypress
skreen'd
it
from
the
Sun
:
From
its
rude
Side
a
Fountain
us'd
to
flow
,
That
pour'd
incessant
on
the
Stones
below
:
This
Musick
lull'd
the
pensive
Dame
to
Rest
,
And
drew
soft
Slumbers
on
her
aching
Breast
:
No
Sun
was
there
,
nor
scarce
a
dawning
Gleam
,
No
twinkling
Stars
,
nor
Cynthia's
silver
Beam
.
There
naked
Elms
and
sapless
Oaks
appear'd
,
With
Age
grown
rotten
,
and
by
Light'ning
sear'd
;
There
perch'd
the
Raven
and
the
gray-ey'd
Owl
,
With
his
wise
Visage
and
his
serious
Scowl
;
No
Flow'rets
there
bedeck
the
mossy
Ground
,
But
a
thick
Forest
spread
its
Shade
around
,
Where
the
smooth
Box
and
browner
Hasel
grew
,
The
solemn
Pine-tree
and
the
baleful
Yew
:
Here
no
glad
Sound
was
heard
nor
human
Tongue
,
Not
Colin's
Flute
nor
Blouzelinda's
Song
:
These
gloomy
Shades
for
Grief
were
only
made
,
And
howling
Wolves
that
scamper'd
thro'
the
Glade
.
Here
Catharina
spent
her
irksom
Days
,
Secluded
both
from
Envy
and
from
Praise
.
Not
so
her
laughing
Moments
us'd
to
run
,
When
her
bright
Eyes
were
like
a
Morning
Sun
:
When
to
her
Flock
repair'd
the
gazing
Swains
,
Her
Flock
was
then
the
fairest
of
the
Plains
:
And
she
no
less
—
with
Veins
of
sprightly
Blue
,
And
Cheeks
like
Roses
wrap'd
in
Morning
Dew
,
The
Loves
and
Graces
round
her
Features
flew
.
Her
Mind
was
chearful
as
the
rising
Day
,
Mature
as
Summer
and
as
April
gay
;
Yet
Fate
too
soon
eclips'd
her
early
Joy
,
She
fell
the
Victim
of
the
winged
Boy
,
The
winged
Boy
that
bears
the
fatal
Darts
:
Henceforth
may
Virgins
better
guard
their
Hearts
.
'Twas
Celadon
,
'twas
he
that
caus'd
her
Pain
,
The
fairest
Shepherd
of
the
rural
Train
;
Whose
careless
Beauty
made
her
Heart
his
Prize
,
And
stole
the
Slumbers
from
her
wakeful
Eyes
.
Long
time
her
Pride
and
cooler
Reason
strove
Against
the
Power
of
encroaching
Love
,
In
vain
—
her
Cheeks
and
mournful
Eyes
declare
The
smother'd
Passion
and
the
secret
Care
,
While
the
dull
Youth
,
whom
Beauty
ne'er
cou'd
please
,
Who
sought
no
more
than
Indolence
and
Ease
,
Rang'd
o'er
the
Vallies
with
his
darling
Tray
,
Or
near
some
Fountain
slumber'd
out
the
Day
:
All
Nymphs
he
strove
(
but
mostly
her
)
to
shun
,
And
to
thick
Shades
and
distant
Pastures
run
:
There
the
soft
Flute
his
nimble
Fingers
ply'd
,
While
his
lov'd
Dog
sat
list'ning
by
his
Side
.
Then
wept
the
Fair
with
Grief
and
Rage
oppress'd
;
Strange
Passions
labour'd
in
her
pensive
Breast
;
She
lost
her
Crook
—
her
Flocks
no
more
were
told
,
And
her
Lambs
wander'd
from
their
nightly
Fold
,
Till
to
these
Shades
she
took
her
desp'rate
Way
,
And
vow'd
no
more
to
see
the
Beams
of
Day
:
Here
the
gay
Roses
on
her
Cheek
expir'd
,
And
from
her
Eyes
the
laughing
Loves
retir'd
:
No
flow'ry
Wreaths
her
faded
Temples
knew
,
Her
Locks
uncomb'd
upon
her
Shoulders
flew
;
No
silken
Vestments
on
her
Limbs
were
roll'd
,
A
russet
Mantle
sav'd
her
from
the
Cold
;
A
simple
Cordage
round
her
Waste
she
ty'd
,
And
a
rude
Staff
her
better
Hand
supply'd
.
Here
learn'd
the
Dame
the
Physick
of
the
Field
,
And
what
the
Woods
and
what
the
Mountains
yield
Of
sov'reign
Balm
,
to
heal
a
rankling
Wound
,
Or
ripen
Swellings
where
no
Sores
are
found
;
To
strengthen
Sinews
,
and
Catarrhs
expel
,
And
none
for
Colicks
cou'd
her
Art
excel
.
With
magick
Herbs
she
drew
out
fest'ring
Thorns
;
Her
Charms
cou'd
banish
Tooth-ach
,
Cramps
,
and
Corns
.
To
her
repair'd
from
all
the
neighb'ring
Plains
,
The
sickly
Matrons
and
the
wounded
Swains
:
Nor
to
one
Species
was
her
Art
confin'd
;
Her
Skill
was
known
amongst
the
fleecy
Kind
,
Her
Cordials
strengthen'd
the
declining
Ewe
,
And
limping
Calves
her
healing
Plaisters
knew
.