Classic Poem

A Pastoral

Two nymphs to whom the pow'rs of verse belong,
Alike ambitious to excel in song,
With equal sweetness sang alternate strains,
And courteous echo told the list'ning plains;
That of her lover sung, this of her friend;
Ye rural nymphs and village swains attend.

C ELIA .

O Love, soft sov'reign, ruler of the heart!
Deep are thy wounds, and pleasing is the smart;
When Strephon smiles the wint'ry fields look gay,
Cold hearts are warm'd, and hard ones melt away.

Sylvia .

Through ev'ry scene of temp'ral bliss is there
A greater blessing than a friend sincere?
'Tis Corydon that bears that tender name,
And Sylvia's breast returns the gen'rous flame.

C ELIA .

When happy I survey my Strephon's charms,
His beauty holds me faster than his arms,
My heart is in a flood of pleasures toss'd,
I faint, I die, and am in raptures lost.

Sylvia .

And what are all these tumults of the heart,
But certain omens of a future smart?
In friendship we more solid comforts find,
It cheers the heart, nor leaves a sting behind.

C ELIA .

Surely no lark in spring was e'er so glad
To see the morn, as I to see my lad;
At his approach all anxious griefs remove,
And ev'ry other joy gives place to love.

Sylvia .

O happy I! with such a friend to live!
Our joys united double pleasure give;
Our inmost thoughts with freedom we unfold,
And grief's no longer grief, when once 'tis told.

C ELIA .

All that is lovely in my swain I find,
But am to all his imperfections blind;
What have I said? I surely do him wrong,
No imperfections can to him belong.

Sylvia .

The faithful friend sees with impartial eyes,
Nor scorns reproof, but speaks without disguise;
Blind to all faults, the eager lover sues,
Friends see aright, and ev'ry fault excuse.

Then Daphne from beneath a hawthorn sprung,
Where she attentive sat to hear the song;
Her breast was conscious of the tender glow,
That faithful friends, in mutual friendship know;
Her tender heart, by love's impulses mov'd,
With ardour beat to sing the swain she lov'd;
With emulation fir'd, the conscious maid
Thus to the fair contending virgins said.

D APHNE .

Blest Celia, happy in a lover dear;
Blest Sylvia, happy in a friend sincere;
But surely I am doubly blest to find,
At once a friend sincere, and lover kind;
My Thirsis is my friend, my friend I say
And who in love can bear a greater sway
Strephon must his superior power own,
Nor is he less sincere than Corydon.