ARE you resolv'd then, Sylvia, to spend this Youth of yours a stran∣ger to the Pleasures of Venus? will you never hear the sweet Name of Mother? and will you never see your little Boys play prettily around you? Ah! change, change, I pray thee, thy Reso∣lution, fond trifler that thou art.

Let others follow the Delights of Love, if there's in Love any Delight: this State of Life pleases me, and all my Diversion is the Care of my Bow, and Arrows; to pursue the flying Beasts, and pin the Savage to the Ground in Combat; and if there fails not Arrows to my Quiver, or wild Beasts to the Wood;

I don't fear, that Sports will ever fail me.

Insipid Sports truly, and insipid Life, and if it pleases you, 'tis only, because you have not experienc'd any other. Thus the first Race of Mankind, who liv'd heretofore in the World, whilst it was yet in its Sim∣plicity and Infancy, accounted Water and Acorns delicious Drink, and delicious Food; and now Water and Acorns are become the Food, and the Drink of Beasts, since Corn and the Grape are brought into Use. Per∣haps, if you had tasted but once the Thou∣sandth Part of the Joys, which an amorous Heart feels in the Return of mutual Love, you would say, repenting with a Sigh, Lost is all the Time that is not spent in Love: Alas, my Ill-spent Youth! How many lonely Nights, how many melancholly Days have I spent in vain; which might have been em∣ploy'd in that Use, which the oft'ner 'tis re∣peated, proves more delightful. Change, Change thy Resolution, fond Trifler that thou art; for it avails nothing to repent too late.

When I shall say, repenting with a Sigh, these Words which you invent and adorn as you please, the Rivers shall return back to their Fountains, the Wolves shall fly from Lambs, and Grey-Hounds from the tim'rous Hares, the Boar shall love the Sea, and the Dolphin the Alps.

Well I know the perversness of Youth. As thou art now, such once was I: such was my Carriage, and my Face, and such my beautiful Hair, my Mouth, like thine, was of Vermilion Die, and thus the Rose was mixt with pure White on my plump and delicate Cheeks, it was then my highest Plea∣sure (now I perceive it, the Pleasure of an Idiot) to spread my Nets, to lay the Bird∣lime Twiggs; to sharpen my Dart upon a Whet-stone, to spy out the Foot-steps, and the Cover of the Game; and if at that time I saw an ardent Lover looking on me, I cast down my Eyes, Rustick and Savage as I was, full of Disdain and of Shame; to me my own Beauty was disagreeable, and whatever I had that pleas'd others, was displeasing to my self: as if it had been my Fault, my Shame, and my Reproach, to be lookt at, lov'd and desir'd. But what can not Time do? and what can't a faithful, and impor∣tunate Lover, by Service, Merit, and In∣treaty? I was conquer'd, I confess; and the Arms of the Conqueror were Submission, Sufferings, Tears, Sighs, and Impor∣tunity in requesting a Return to his Love. The Shade of one short Night shew'd me then that, which along Course of Time, and the Light of a Thousand Days had not shew'd me. Then I blam'd my self, and my blind Simplicity, and said with a Sigh: Here, Cynthia, take thy Horn, take thy Bow, for I renounce thy Arrows, and thy way of Life.

Thus I hope to see, that one Day your Aminta will tame your savage Nature, and will soften that Iron, rocky Heart of thine. Perhaps he is not handsome, or loves not you, or no one else loves him? or perhaps he changes either for the Love of another, or your Hatred? perhaps he yields to you in Birth, if you are the Daughter of Cidippus, to whom the God of this noble River was Father; he is the Son of Sylvanus, to whom Pan was Father, the great God of the Shep∣herds. Bright Amarillis is no less Fair than you, if ever you did view your self in the Mirror of a clear Fountain; and yet he de∣spises her inviting Charms, and follows your contemptuous Scorn. Now make a Fiction, (and Heaven grant it may be only a Fiction) that he, being disgusted at you, should bring himself at last to love the Maid, by whom he is lov'd so much; what will thy Mind be then; and with what Eyes will thou behold him another's? happy in another's Arms, and insulting thee with a Smile.

Let Aminta dispose of Himself, and his Love as he pleases, it matters not me; and so he be not mine, let him be whose he will; but he can't be mine, except I will, neither, were he mine, would I be his.

From whence does your Hatred takes its Birth?

From his Love.

Too gentle Father for so cruel a Son, but when were ever Tygers born of tame Lambs? or Crows of beautiful Swans? Page  9 Either you deceive me, or your self.

I am an Enemy to his Love; because That is an Enemy to my Honour, and I lov'd him as long as he would have nothing of me but what I'd have.

You made the worse Choice: He only wishes to you what he wishes to him∣self.

Daphne, Either be silent, or speak of some other Subject, if you will have an Answer.

Look ye there now, observe the coy Disdain of Youth. Answer me now however: should another love you, would you treat his love in this manner?

In this manner would I treat every Ensnarer of my Virginity, whom you call a Lover, and I an Enemy.

Do'st thou esteem then an Enemy, the Ram to the Ew? the Bull to the Hei∣fer? do'st thou esteem then an Enemy, the Turtle to his faithful Mate? do'st thou imagine then the pleasant Spring to be the season of Enmity and Wrath? which now jocund and smiling, reconciles the whole World to Love, as well brute Beasts as Men and Women: and do'st thou not perceive, how all Things are now inspir'd with a joy∣ous and salutary Love? See there that Dove, which flattering with sweet murmurs, Kisses his Companion: hear that Nightingale, which hops from Bough to Bough singing, Page  11 I love, I love, Even the Adder (whether thou know'st it or no) lays aside his Poison, and runs desirous to his Lover; Tygers rush in∣to Love, the haughty Lion loves, and you only, more Savage than all the wild Beasts, deny Love a Reception in your Breast? But why do I mention Lions, Tygers, and Ser∣pents, which are indued with Sense? nay moreover, even the Trees Love. You may observe with how great Affection, and how many repeated Embraces, the Vine twines herself around her Husband, the Fir-Tree loves the Fir-Tree, the Pine the Pine, the Elm for the Elm, and for the Willow the Willow, and one Beech-Tree for another burns and sighs. That very Oak, that ap∣pears so rugged, and savage, feels within itself the Power of an amorous Fire: and, if thou hadst any Spirit or Sense of Love, thou would'st hear his mute Sighs. Will you be then inferiour to the Plants, by not being a Lover? Change, Change thy Resolution fond Trifler that thou art.

Well then, when I hear the Sighs of the Plants, then I am content to be a Lover.

You turn into Ridicule my faithful Counsel, and Burlesque my Reasons. Oh! no less Deaf than Silly in Love: but go now, the Time will come that you shall repent that you did not follow them, and I don't mean Page  13 when you shall fly from the Fountains, where now you often view your self, and perhaps admire; when you shall fly from the Fountains, only for fear of seeing yourself wrinkled and deform'd; this will happen to you. But I give you warning, not of this only, which though it is a great Misfortune, is a common one. Don't you remember that which Elpin related the other Day; the wise Elpin to the beautiful Lycoris, who had that Power over Elpin with her Eyes, which he ought to have had over her with his Songs, if what ought to be, could al∣ways be found in Love; he related in the hearing of Battus and Thyrsis, great Masters of Love, and he related it in the Cave of Aurora, where over the Door is written, Far, Far hence go ye Profane. He said, and said, that That great Poet told it him, who Sung of Arms, and Love, and bequeath'd him his Pipe when he died; that there be∣low in Hell is a black Den, where issues out a stinking Smoak from the dreadful Fur∣nace of Acaron; and that there ungrateful and unrelenting Women are eternally punish∣ed in Torments of Darkness and Tears. There expect that a Reception will be pre∣par'd for thy Cruelty. And just it is that Smoak should some Time be ever drawing Tears from those Eyes, from whence Pity could never draw them. Follow, follow now thy own Course, Page  15 obstinate that thou art.

But what did Licoris then, and what answer did she make?

You take no Care of your own Affairs, and are willing to know another's. She answer'd him with her Eyes.

How could she answer him with her Eyes only?

They being turn'd upon Elpin answer'd, with a Smile, the Heart and we are thine: more you ought not to desire: the Donor can bestow no more: and this only had been sufficient as a Reward to a chast Lover, if he had thought those Eyes as true as fair, and put an entire Confidence in them.

And why did he not believe them!

Don't you know what Thyrsis wrote of them? when being in Love he wandred frantick through the Forests, so that he mov'd at the same Time the compassion, and the laughter of the Beautiful Nymphs and Shepherds; that which he wrote was not worthy of Laughter, tho' that was worthy of Laughter that he acted, he writ it on a thou∣sand Plants, and with the Plants the Verses grew, and on one of them are thus read:

While I am passing the Time in talk∣ing, I forget that this is the appointed Day for going to the Chase agreed on in the oaken Grove. Stay now, if you please, till I have first washt off, in my accustom'd Fountain, the Sweat and the Dust with which I was cover'd Yesterday, Page  17 in chasing a swift Doe, which at length I overtook, and kill'd.

I'll wait, and perhaps will bath my self in the same Foun∣tain: but I'll go first to my House, for it is not as yet late, as you may see; do you wait for me at Yours, till I come to you: and in the mean while think upon that which is of greater Importance than either the Chase, or the Fountain; and if you don't know this, believe that you are Ignorant, and believe the Experienc'd.

I have seen the Rocks and Waters compassionately reply to my Complaints, I have seen the Woods accom∣pany my Complaints with sighs: but I have never seen, nor hope to see Compassion in the cruel Fair, whom I know not whether to call Woman, or Brute; but she denies herself to be a Woman, because she denies Compassion, where inanimate things have not denied it.

The Lamb feeds on the Grass, the Wolf on the Lambs; but cruel Love feeds on Tears, and never shews himself satisfied.

Alas! Love is long since satisfied with my Tears, and now only thirsts after my Blood; and soon I am resolv'd, that he, and that cruel Creature, shall drink my Blood with their Eyes.

Ah Aminta!

Aminta, what are you talking? or why do you rave thus? comfort your self now, for you will find another, if this cruel one dis∣dains you.

Alas! how can I find ano∣ther, if I cannot find my self? if I have lost my self, what Acquisition shall I ever make that can please me?

Poor Man, never despair of gaining her. Length of Time has taught Men to Rein the Lions, and the Tygers of Arcania.

But an unhappy Wretch can't a long Time sustain the De∣lay of his Death.

The Delay will be short: Woman is soon angry, and soon ap∣peas'd, a Creature moveable by Nature, more than the slender Twig, or the pliant Ear of Corn before the Wind: but prithee, let me know something farther of thy hard Condition, and thy Love: For though you have often confest to me that you were in Love, yet you never told me where you plac'd your Love: and our faithful Friend∣ship, and our common study of the Muses, deserves that, what is conceal'd from others, should be discover'd to me.

I am con∣tent, Thyrsis, to tell you that, which the Woods, the Mountains, and the Rivers know, though 'tis unknown to Men: for I am now so near my Death, that there is good Reason, that I shou'd leave one behind who may relate the Cause of my Death, and engrave it on the Bark of a Beech-tree, near the place where my dead Body shall be bu∣ried: Page  21 that the cruel Maid, when she passes by, may take delight to trample my unhappy Bones with her proud Foot, and say within herself, Here lies my Triumph; and may rejoice to see, that her Victory is known to all our coun∣try Shepherds, and the Strangers, whom chance directs this way: and perhaps (alas my Hopes are too high) a Day may come, when she, being mov'd with too late a pity, may lament him dead, whom living she kill'd; and say; oh! were he here, and were he mine! Attend now.

Go on then, for I am attentive, and perhaps to better pur∣pose, than you imagine.

While I was yet so young, that I could scarce reach with my little Hand to gather Fruit from the bending Boughs of the young Trees, I be∣came acquainted with the most beautiful and dearest Maid, that e'er display'd her golden Hair to the Wind: know you the Daughter of Cidippa, and of Montanus, so wealthy in Cattle? Sylvia, the Honour of the Woods, the Passion of Souls; of her I speak, Alas! I liv'd with her so united for sometime, that between two Turtles there never will be, nor ever was a more faithful Alliance. Adjoining were our Habitations, but more adjoining our Hearts: alike were our Ages, but our Thoughts more alike: with her I us'd to spread the ensnaring Net for Fishes, and for Birds, and follow'd with her the Stags and swift Does; both our Diversion and our Prey was common.

But whilst I was making a Prey of Animals, I became, I know not how, a Prey my self. By little and little there grew within my Breast, I know not from what Root, like an Herb that shoots out of it self, a Passion I was unacquainted with before, which made me desire to be always in the Presence of my fair Sylvia, and I drank from her Eyes a strange Sweetness, which left behind it in the end I know not what kind of Bitter: I sigh'd often, and knew not the cause of my sighing. Thus I became a Lover, Before I understood what kind of thing Love was. Too well I found what it was at last: and in what manner, now hear me, and observe.

'Tis worth observing.

In the shade of a beautiful Beech, Sylvia, and Phyllis sate one Day, and I together with them; when an industrious Bee, which went to gather Honey in the flow'ry Meads, flying on the Cheeks of Phyllis, the Cheeks all Crimson like the Rose, stung them, and stung them again greedily; and perhaps, deceiv'd by the Resemblance, took them for a Flower: Then Phyllis began to make her Moan, impatient of the acute Sting. But my beautiful Sylvia said, peace Phyllis, cease complaining, for I with Enchanting words can relieve the Anguish of the little Wound;

Sage Artesia taught me this Secret some time ago, and had for her reward my Ivory Horn adorn'd with Gold. Thus saying, she ap∣plied the Lips of her beautiful, and sweetest Mouth to the wounded Cheek, and with a soft Whisper murmur'd I know not what Verses. O admirable Effects! she presently perceiv'd the Pain to cease; whether it was the Virtue of those magical Words, or, as I believe, the Virtue of that Mouth, which cures all that it touches. I, who till that Time desir'd nothing, but the lovely Bright∣ness of her beautiful Eyes, and her sweet Speech, much more sweet than the murmur∣ing of a slow Rivulet, which breaks its way amongst the little Rocks, or the whispering of the Air amongst the Leaves; at that Time perceiv'd in my Heart a new desire to press my Mouth to hers. And becoming, I know not how, cunning and ingenious more than usual, (observe how Love sharpens the Invention) bethought my self of a pretty Deceit, by which I might accomplish my Desire: for pretending, that a Bee had stung my Under-lip, I begun to complain in such manner, that I ask'd for that Remedy with my Looks, which my Tongue did not ask for. Harmless Sylvia, pitying my Pain, Page  27 offer'd to give Relief to my feign'd Wound; and made, alas, my true one more deep and mortal, when her Lips were join'd to mine, nor did ever the Bee gather from any Flower Honey so sweet, as I then gather'd from those fresh Roses; although my ardent Kisses, which Desire excited to sink deeper, Fear and Shame restrain'd, or made them more slow and less bold: but in the mean-while there glided to my Heart, a Sweetness mixt with a secret Poison: I felt such delight in it, that pretending the Pain of the Sting was not yet ceas'd, I caus'd her often to repeat the Inchantment. From that Time my Desire and my Grief grew impatient to such a degree, that not being able to contain it any longer within my Breast, I was forc'd to give it vent: and one Time, as we were sitting round toge∣ther in a Circle, Nymphs and Shepherds, and were playing some of our Plays, where every one whispering in the Ear of his Neighbour, tells him some Secret, Sylvia, said I to her, for you I burn, and shall cer∣tainly die unless you pity me. At those Words Page  29 she cast down her lovely Face, and over it there came a sudden unusual Red∣ness, which gave a sign of Modesty and An∣ger; I had no other Answer, but Silence, a disturb'd Silence, full of severe Threats: she departed from thence, and ne'er would see, or hear me afterwards: and now thrice has the naked Reaper cut the Corn, as many Times has the Winter shaken the verdant Leaves from the Woods; and I have tried every thing to appease her, be∣sides my Death. There remains only, now to appease her, that I should Die, and die I would willingly, were I but sure, that she would either be pleas'd, or griev'd at it; neither know I of these Two things which I should rather wish. Pity would be indeed a greater Reward to my Fidelity, and a greater Recompence for my Death: but I ought not to wish for any thing, that may disturb the serene Light of those dear Eyes, and grieve that beautiful Breast.

Is it possible then, that if she should one day hear such words, she should not Love you?

I know not, nor be∣lieve it; but she flies my Words as the Ad∣der flies from the Inchantment.

Be of good Courage, for my Heart inclines me to bring it about that she shall hear you.

Either you will never prevail, or if you should prevail that I should speak, I never should prevail by speaking.

Why do you despair thus?

I have just Cause of Despair, because the sage Mopsus foretold my hard Fortune; Mop∣sus who understands the Language of Birds, and the Virtue of Herbs, and Fountains.

Of what Mopsus are you speak∣ing? of that Mopsus who has words of Honey on his Tongue, and a friendly Smile upon his Lips, but conceals Fraud within his Breast, and a Poignard un∣derneath his Garment? be of good hope, for those unhappy inauspicious Prognosticks, that he sells to Fools, with that grave Look, will never take effect, this I know by Ex∣perience what I tell you; on the contrary, for this only Reason, because he has foretold you, I take delight in hoping a happy end to thy Love.

If you know any by Ex∣perience that comforts my Hope, don't con∣ceal it.

I'll tell it willingly at the Time, when first my Fortune brought me into these Woods, I knew that Man, and esteem'd him such a one as you now esteem him; Insomuch that it fell out one Day that I had some Business, and likewise a Mind to go where the Grand City stands on the Bank of the River; and I acquainted him with my design, and he thus told me, You are going into that great Town, where the crafty and deceitful Citizens, and the evil∣minded Courtiers often Scoff at, and make rude Sports with us simple Country Men. Therefore my Son Page  33 be well advis'd, and don't intrude there where there are Colour'd and Gold Cloaths, Plumes, Devices, and new Fashions: but above all take Care, lest evil Destiny or the Jollity of Youth, should lead thee into the Magazine of idle Chat. Fly, ah! fly that inchanted Place. What place is that said I? and he answer'd: there live those Magicians who by their Inchantments make every Body see and hear one thing for another: that which appears to be Dia∣monds, and fine Gold, is only Glass and Copper; and those Silver Chests, which you would think to be full of Treasure, are on∣ly Baskets full of empty Bladders. There the Walls are built with such an Art, that they Speak and answer those that speak; they not only answer half a word, as Echo uses to do in our Woods, but they reply it all intire, join'd with something else that was not said. The Tripods, Tables, Benches, Stools, Beds and Curtains, and the Furni∣ture of the Chamber, and Hall, have all a Tongue, and a Voice, and are always Pratling. There false Lies leap sporting about in the shape of Babes; and if a dumb Man should enter, that dumb Man would Prate in spite of himself. But this is the least Misfortune that can befall you, perhaps you may stay there Transform'd into a Willow-Tree, into Water, or Fire; the Water of Tears, or the Fire of Sighs. All this he told me, and I went with this false Forewarning to the City; Page  35 and as kind Heaven and Fortune would have it, pass'd by the place where stands that happy Dwelling. From whence issu'd out the sweet and harmonious Musick, of Swans, of Nymphs, and Syrens, celestial Syrens! from thence proceeded Sounds so sweet and clear, and so many other Delights, that I stood still a good while Astonish'd with Pleasure and Admiration. There stood at the Door (as it were to Guard all those fine Things) a Man of a stout and noble Aspect, concerning whom, for what seem'd to me, I stood in doubt whether he would make a better General or a Soldier: This Man with Looks at the same Time kind and grave, and with Royal Courtesie invited me within, he a Man in great Office and Dig∣nity, me a poor and homely Shepherd. Oh! what did I perceive, what saw I then! I saw celestial Goddesses, gay and beautiful Nymphs; new Stars, new Orpheus's, and others besides, without a Veil or Cloud, such and so great as the Virgin-Morn ap∣pears to the Immortals scattering her Silver Dews, and her Rays of Gold; I saw Phoe∣bus shining all round with fruitful Light, and the Muses, and Elpin sitting among them; and in that Instant I perceiv'd my self grown Greater than usual, full of new Virtue, full of a new Deity: and I sung of Wars, and Heroes, disdaining the rude Pasto∣ral Verse. And although for the Pleasure of others I return'd to these Woods again, I still retain'd Page  37 Part of that Spirit: nor does my Pipe sound as humble as before; but with a more loud and sonorous Tone rivals the Trumpet, and fills the Woods. Afterward Mopsus heard me, and admiring with a ma∣licious Look fascinated me; from whence I became hoarse and silent for a long Time: thence the Shepherds thought that I had been seen by a Wolf, and that Wolf was he. This I have told you, that you may know how much his words are worthy of Belief: And you ought to hope well, only because he perswades you not to hope at all.

I am pleas'd to hear what you relate to me: to you then I entrust the Care of my Life.

I'll take the Care upon me: do you attend me here Half an Hour hence.

O Happy Age of Gold, not because the Rivers ran with Milk, and Honey dropt from the Woods: not because the Fields produced the Fruits untouch'd with the Plow, and Serpents wander'd without Wrath and Venom; not because the black Cloud had not yet spread abroad its Veil, but the Heaven, which now glows with Heat, and freezes with Cold, smil'd with Light and Serenity in an eternal Spring; Page  39 nor the foreign Pine, as yet carry'd War and Merchandise to distant Shores; but only, because that empty Name without a Substance, that Idol of Error and Hypo∣crisy, which by the mad Vulgar was after∣wards call'd Honour, which they made the Tyrant of our Nature, had not yet mingled its Disquietude amongst the sweet Endear∣ments of the amorous Train, and its hard Laws were not yet known to Souls accustom'd to Liberty: but only that Golden happy Law, which Nature made, if it pleases, 'tis Lawful. Then amongst the Flowers and Streams, the little Loves led up their jocund Dances, without their Bows, and without their Torches: The Shepherds and Nymphs sate together, mingling Whispers with their pretty Discourses; and with their Whispers Kisses closely tenacious. The naked Maid display'd her blooming Roses, which she now keeps conceal'd beneath the Veil; and the Apples of her Breast now bitter, and distasteful; and often in a Fountain or a Lake, the loveful amorous Boy beheld himself wan∣tonly playing with the Maid he lov'd. Thou, Honour, first didst stop the Spring of Pleasures, denying Water to the thirst of Love: thou first didst teach lovely Eyes Page  41 to stand reserv'd within themselves, and keep their Beauty from all others secret: you first wove into a Net those Hairs, that were before scatter'd loosely to the Wind: you made sweet amorous Behaviour copy and dis∣dainful: you gave Words a Bridle, and to Steps an Art; Honour, 'tis thy doing, that, what was once the Gift of Love, is now the Theft. Our Pains and our Complaints are thy egregious Effects. But now, great Master of Love and Nature, thou Conquer∣our of Kings, what does thou do within these cloister'd Woods, which can't contain thy Grandeur? go hence and disturb the Repose of the Illustrious and Powerful, and suffer us neglected humble Company, to live without thee after the manner of the An∣cient Race of Men. Let us love, for the Life of Man has no Truce with Years, and is still consuming; let us love, for the Sun dies, and is born again; our short Light sets from us, and Sleep brings on eternal Night.