[
PASTORAL
06
]
THE
SIXTH
PASTORAL
.
GERON
,
HOBBINOL
,
LANQUET
.
GERON
.
How
still
the
Sea
!
behold
;
how
calm
the
Sky
!
And
how
,
in
sportive
Chase
,
the
Swallows
fly
!
My
Goats
,
secure
from
Harm
,
small
Tendance
need
,
While
high
on
yonder
hanging
Rock
they
feed
:
And
here
below
,
the
banky
Shore
along
,
Your
Heifers
graze
:
And
I
to
hear
your
song
Dispos'd
.
As
eldest
,
Hobbinol
,
begin
;
And
Lanquet's
Under-Song
by
Turns
come
in
.
HOBBINOL
.
Let
others
meanly
stake
upon
their
Skill
,
Or
Kid
,
or
Lamb
,
or
Goat
,
or
what
they
will
;
For
Praise
we
sing
,
nor
Wager
ought
beside
:
And
,
whose
the
Praise
,
let
Geron's
Lips
decide
.
LANQUET
.
To
Geron
I
my
Voice
and
Skill
commend
:
Unbias'd
he
,
to
both
is
equal
Friend
.
GERON
.
Begin
then
,
Boys
,
and
vary
well
your
Song
;
Nor
fear
,
from
Geron's
upright
Sentence
,
Wrong
.
A
boxen
Haut-boy
,
loud
,
and
sweet
of
Sound
,
All
varnish'd
,
and
with
brazen
Ringlets
bound
,
I
to
the
Victor
give
:
No
small
Reward
,
If
with
our
usual
Country
Pipes
compar'd
.
HOBBINOL
.
The
Snows
are
melted
,
and
the
kindly
Rain
Descends
on
ev'ry
Herb
,
and
ev'ry
Grain
;
Soft
balmy
Breezes
breathe
along
the
Sky
;
The
bloomy
Season
of
the
Year
is
nigh
.
LANQUET
.
The
Cuckoo
calls
aloud
his
wandering
Love
;
The
Turtle's
Voice
is
hear'd
in
ev'ry
Grove
;
The
Pastures
change
;
the
warbling
Linnets
sing
:
Prepare
to
welcome
in
the
gawdy
Spring
.
HOBBINOL
.
When
Locusts
in
the
ferny
Bushes
cry
,
When
Ravens
pant
,
and
Snakes
in
Caverns
lye
;
Then
graze
in
Woods
,
and
quit
the
burning
Plain
,
Else
shall
ye
press
the
spungy
Teat
in
vain
.
LANQUET
.
When
Greens
to
Yellow
vary
,
and
ye
see
The
Ground
bestrew'd
with
Fruits
off
ev'ry
Tree
,
And
stormy
Winds
are
heard
,
think
Winter
near
,
Nor
trust
too
far
to
the
declining
Year
.
HOBBINOL
.
Full
fain
,
O
bless'd
Eliza
!
would
I
praise
Thy
Maiden
Rule
,
and
Albion's
Golden
Days
:
Then
gentle
Sidney
liv'd
,
the
Shepherd's
Friend
:
Eternal
Blessings
on
his
Shade
attend
!
LANQUET
.
Thrice
happy
Shepherds
now
:
For
Dorset
loves
The
Country-Muse
,
and
our
delightful
Groves
;
While
ANNA
reigns
.
O
ever
may
she
reign
!
And
bring
on
Earth
a
Golden
Age
again
.
HOBBINOL
.
I
love
in
secret
all
a
beauteous
Maid
,
And
have
my
Love
in
secret
all
repaid
.
This
coming
Night
she
does
reserve
for
me
.
Divine
her
Name
;
and
thou
the
Victor
be
.
LANQUET
.
Mild
as
the
Lamb
,
unharmful
as
the
Dove
,
True
as
the
Turtle
,
is
the
Maid
I
love
.
How
we
in
secret
love
,
I
shall
not
say
.
Divine
her
Name
,
and
I
give
up
the
Day
.
HOBBINOL
.
Soft
on
a
Cowslip
Bank
,
my
Love
and
I
Together
lay
:
A
Brook
ran
murm'ring
by
.
A
thousand
tender
things
to
me
she
said
;
And
I
a
thousand
tender
Things
repaid
.
LANQUET
.
In
Summer
Shade
,
beneath
the
cocking
Hay
,
What
soft
,
endearing
Words
did
she
not
say
?
Her
Lap
,
with
Apron
deck'd
,
she
fondly
spread
,
And
stroak'd
my
Cheeks
,
and
lull'd
my
leaning
Head
.
HOBBINOL
.
Breathe
soft
ye
Winds
,
ye
Waters
gently
flow
;
Shield
her
,
ye
Trees
;
ye
Flowers
around
her
grow
;
Ye
Swains
,
I
beg
you
,
pass
in
Silence
by
;
My
Love
,
in
yonder
Vale
asleep
does
lye
.
LANQUET
.
Once
Delia
slept
,
on
easie
Moss
reclin'd
;
Her
lovely
Limbs
half
bare
,
and
rude
the
Wind
:
I
smooth'd
her
Coats
,
and
stole
a
silent
Kiss
.
Condemn
me
,
Shepherds
,
if
I
did
amiss
.
HOBBINOL
.
As
Marian
bath'd
,
by
chance
I
passed
by
;
She
blush'd
,
and
at
me
glanc'd
a
sidelong
Eye
:
Then
swift
beneath
the
crystal
Wave
she
try'd
Her
tempting
Form
,
but
all
in
vain
,
to
hide
.
LANQUET
.
As
I
,
to
cool
me
,
bath'd
one
sultry
Day
,
Fond
Lydia
,
lurking
in
the
Sedges
lay
.
The
Wanton
laugh'd
,
and
seem'd
in
haste
to
fly
;
Yet
often
stopp'd
,
and
often
turn'd
her
Eye
.
HOBBINOL
.
When
first
I
saw
,
would
I
had
never
seen
,
Young
Lyset
lead
the
Dance
on
yonder
Green
;
Intent
upon
her
Beauties
as
she
mov'd
,
Poor
,
heedless
Wretch
,
at
unawares
I
lov'd
.
LANQUET
.
When
Lucy
decks
with
Flow'rs
her
swelling
Breast
,
And
on
her
Elbow
leans
,
dissembling
Rest
;
Unable
to
refrain
my
madding
Mind
,
Nor
Sheep
nor
Pasture
worth
my
Care
I
find
.
HOBBINOL
.
Come
Rosalind
,
O
come
!
For
,
without
thee
,
What
Pleasure
can
the
Country
have
for
me
?
Come
Rosalind
,
O
,
come
!
My
brinded
Kine
,
My
snowy
Sheep
,
my
Farm
,
and
all
is
thine
.
LANQUET
.
Come
Rosalind
,
O
come
!
Here
shady
Bow'rs
,
Here
are
cool
Fountains
,
and
here
springing
Flow'rs
.
Come
Rosalind
:
Here
ever
let
us
stay
,
And
sweetly
waste
our
live-long
Time
away
.
HOBBINOL
.
In
vain
the
Seasons
of
the
Moon
I
know
,
The
Force
of
healing
Herbs
,
and
where
they
grow
;
There
is
no
Herb
,
no
Season
,
may
remove
From
my
fond
Heart
the
racking
Pains
of
Love
.
LANQUET
.
What
profits
me
,
that
I
in
Charms
have
skill
,
And
Ghosts
and
Goblins
order
as
I
will
;
Yet
have
,
with
all
my
Charms
,
no
Pow'r
to
lay
The
Sprite
,
that
breaks
my
Quiet
Night
and
Day
.
HOBBINOL
.
O
that
,
like
Colin
,
I
had
Skill
in
Rhymes
:
To
purchase
Credit
with
succeeding
Times
!
Sweet
Colin
Clout
!
who
never
yet
had
Peer
,
Who
sung
thro'
all
the
Seasons
of
the
Year
.
LANQUET
.
Let
me
like
Wrenock
sing
;
his
Voice
had
Pow'r
To
free
the
clipsing
Moon
at
Midnight
Hour
:
And
,
as
he
sung
,
the
Fairies
,
with
their
Queen
,
In
Mantles
blue
came
tripping
o'er
the
Green
.
GERON
.
Here
end
your
pleasing
Strife
.
Both
Victors
are
;
And
both
with
Colin
may
in
Rhyme
compare
.
A
Boxen
Haut-Boy
,
loud
,
and
sweet
of
Sound
,
All
varnish'd
,
and
with
brazen
Ringlets
bound
,
To
both
I
give
.
A
mizling
Mist
descends
Adown
that
steepy
Rock
:
And
this
way
tends
Yon
distant
Rain
.
Shore-ward
the
Vessels
strive
;
And
,
see
,
the
Boys
their
Flocks
to
Shelter
drive
.