18
THIRD PASTORAL.
-->A while, O D'Urfy, lend an ear or twain,[1]
Nor, though in homely guise, my verse disdain; 10
Whether thou seek'st new kingdoms in the sun,[2]
Whether thy muse does at New-market run,
Or does with gossips at a feast regale,
And heighten her conceits with sack and ale,
Or else at wakes with Joan and Hodge rejoice, 15
Where Durfy's lyricks swell in every voice;
Yet suffer me, thou bard of wondr'ous meed,[3]
Amid thy bays to wave this rural weed.[4]
Now the sun drove adown the western road,
And oxen laid at rest forget the goad, 20
The clown fatigu'd trudg'd homeward with his spade,
Across the meadows stretch'd the lengthen'd shade;
When Sparabella pensive and forlorn,
Alike with yearning love and labour worn,
Lean'd on her rake, and strait with doleful guise[5] 25
Did this sad plaint in moanful notes devise.
Come night as dark as pitch, surround my head,
From Sparabella Bumkinet is fled;
The ribbon that his val'rous cudgel won,
Last Sunday happier Clumsilis put on. 30
Sure, if he'd eyes (but love, they say, has none)
I whilome by that ribbon had been known.
Nor, though in homely guise, my verse disdain; 10
Whether thou seek'st new kingdoms in the sun,[2]
Whether thy muse does at New-market run,
Or does with gossips at a feast regale,
And heighten her conceits with sack and ale,
Or else at wakes with Joan and Hodge rejoice, 15
Where Durfy's lyricks swell in every voice;
Yet suffer me, thou bard of wondr'ous meed,[3]
Amid thy bays to wave this rural weed.[4]
Now the sun drove adown the western road,
And oxen laid at rest forget the goad, 20
The clown fatigu'd trudg'd homeward with his spade,
Across the meadows stretch'd the lengthen'd shade;
When Sparabella pensive and forlorn,
Alike with yearning love and labour worn,
Lean'd on her rake, and strait with doleful guise[5] 25
Did this sad plaint in moanful notes devise.
Come night as dark as pitch, surround my head,
From Sparabella Bumkinet is fled;
The ribbon that his val'rous cudgel won,
Last Sunday happier Clumsilis put on. 30
Sure, if he'd eyes (but love, they say, has none)
I whilome by that ribbon had been known.
- ↑ Line 9. Tu mihi seu magni superas jam saxa Timavi.
Sive oram Illyrici legis æquoris - ↑ 11. An opera written by this author, called the World in the Sun, or the Kingdom of Birds; he is also famous for his song on the New-market horse-race, and several others that are sung by the British swains.
- ↑ 17. Meed, an old word for fame or renown.
- ↑ 18. ——— Hanc sine tempora circum
Inter victrices ederam tibi serpere lauros. - ↑ 25. Incumbens tereti Damon sic cæpit Olivæ.
Ah,
