Poems on several occasions, with some other compositions. By Nathaniel Evans, A.M. late missionary (appointed by the Society for Propagating the Gospel) for Gloucester County, in New-Jersey; and Chaplain to the Lord Viscount Kilmorey, of the Kingdom of Ireland.

CARMEN PASTORALE.

URBS colitur priscis quondam celeberrima Scotis, Incumbens saxo solido, cui nomen Edinae. Venerat huc Phyllis pulcherrima Scotigenarum Montibus ex patriis, ubi Oreadas inter agrestes Prima fuit, denos bis non aspexerat annos Gloria deliciaeque patris: quam forte vagantem Viderat Urbanus subitoque exarsit, at illa Munere nec pretio potuit precibusve moveri. Hunc igitur vanis fundentem vota querelis Audiit Arcturi rupes et inhospita saxa: Audiit, et planctus gemebunda remurmurat Echo. Echo sola meos miserata est, inquit amores; Tristra nam moestis ex saxis assonat imis, Flebile luctisonis responsat et usque cicutis. Me miserum quoties exclamo, lugubris illa Me miserum ingeminat gelidis e vallibus: Eheu Clamanti exclamat, repetitis vocibus, Eheu!

O rupes! O mî quondam dilectaque saxa! O valles solitas audire et reddere voces Phyllidis auricomae! num jam mihi ferre potestis Auxilii quidquam rabidos lenire dolores? Phyllis abest, longumque vale mihi dixit; avenas, Delicias quondam, fragiles perdamque cicutas. Phyllis abest, nec me delectant carmina, nec me Lanigerive greges, dulcesve ante omnia musae. Naides, et sordent mihi munera vestra, nec ipse Pan placeat, calamis si quando inflare miselli•• Tentet, et ingentes divellere pectore curas. O crudelis amor! crudelia saxa! bovesque Crudeles! qui non sentitis pectoris AEstus: Quales fornicibus ruptis ciet AEtna Typhois Ore vomens lapidesque feros, flammasque globosque In Siculos agros, liquefactaque saxa revolvit.

O pecora! O caprae, crudeles vos quoque! nostri Vos neque, pastores, miserescitis. Improba saxa Torreat acre gelu, montisque cacumina saevi Horrescant subitis ventis, tumidisque procellis. Perpetuo coelum contristet bruma nivosis Imbribus, aeternis rigeat fera terra pruinis. Vos, pecora, insani perimant contagia morbi Dira, vel innumeris jaceant laniata per agros Membra lupis: scelerata lues, vel numinis ira Ultricis vigiles miserandâ morre magistro•• Tollat, et hos nemo plangat. Sed quo furor aegram Impius abripuit menteta? Quid saxa? Quid aer? Quid caprae? aut ovium quid commeruere magistri? Quid vos devoveam? Piget, et malesane furenti Dicta mihi, simul et temeraria vota recanto. Si rata namque forent quaecunque armata flagellis Ira, aut praecipiti furibunda insania motu Dictitat, Urbano quae spes restaret, ut istas Nympha memor nostri formosa reviseret oras?

Quin potius studiis conspirent omnia junctis Phyllida blanditis iterum revocare tenellis. Spina rosas, viridans cerealia munera fruges Terra ferat; volucrum resonet clamoribus aether Blandidulis; pecudum mugitus sidera pulsent. Pabula felices caprae genialia carpant, Balantesque greges ovium: nova gaudia vobis Usque renascantur, pastores: tempora brumae Perpetuum vernent, modicisque caloribus aestas Suggerat armento foecundus graminis herbas.

Talia dicentem circumque gregesque bovesque, Circum pastores, circumque stetere bubulci, Et lachrymis maduere genae: ferus ipse Cupido Condoluit, caecis mons ingemuitque cavernis.

A PASTORAL, from the Latin of the same.

ON 〈◊〉〈◊〉 rock, enroll'd in ancient fame, 〈…〉〈…〉nds and EDINBURGH its name; Here c〈…〉〈…〉 Phyllis from her native hills, Whose 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all the Scottish maids excels; First of the rural nymphs in Venus' arms, Not yet had twenty summers crown'd her charms. This lovely fair, her father's joy and pride, Once, as she heedless pass'd, Urbanus ey'd. Quick as the lightning darts from pole to pole, An instant passion fir'd his am'rous soul; With pray'rs and bribes he strove to win her mind, But she, unmov'd, his tender suit declin'd. Soon then the ruthless rocks he rov'd among, And with his plaints Arcturus' summit rung. Echo too heard his tear-exciting strain, And back resounded every groan again. Echo, says he, alone laments my woe, In hollow accents from the caves below. My pipe sad warb'ling fills the groves around, While she redoubles ev'ry plaintive sound. Ah! wretched me! I mournfully exclaim; Ah! wretched me! the vales repeat again.

Alas! alas! I sigh to ev'ry shade; Alas! alas! returns the piteous Maid. Ye sunny banks that once were my delight, With precipices awful to the sight, And vales that heard the bright-hair'd Phyllis sing, What aid to me can all your beauties bring? Phyllis is gone, with her my pleasures flew, Gone, and has bid a killing long adieu. My pipe and brittle reed I'll now destroy; Phyllis is fled, the source of all my joy. Not songs, nor flocks, can now my bliss recal, Nor charming Muses, sweeter than them all. The blue-ey'd Naiads now delight no more, Nor frolic Pan that sports the mountains o'er; His idle reed no cure for me can find, Music enchants alone th' unruffl'd mind. O cruel love! and cruel oxen too, With savage rocks that never passion knew; Those ills ye feel not that my soul infest, Nor raves the furious tempest in your breast. Such as when swells old AEtna's restless womb, And bursts the caverns of Typhean gloom, Fierce stones, and flames, and globes of fiery red, It spouts tremendous from its burning bed, And rolls the melted sulph'rous mass amain, A flaming river down Sicilia's plain.

You are relentless too, my fleecy care, ••e, nor your shepherds, pity my despair. May frosts severe the cruel rocks divide, And sudden whirlwinds tear the mountain's side; May dark December reign with icy snow, And Boreas ever round the aether blow; Let the hard earth with cold perpetual freeze, Nor ever feel the balmy-breathing breeze. And you my flock, may madness seize your joy, And dire distempers all your race destroy; Or wolves innumerable your members tear, And far disperse them through the fields and air; May the curs'd plague your watchful swains con|sume, Or heav'n's dread thunder speak their instant doom. But why will fancy thus wild warfare wage, And swell my sick-mind with an impious rage? How have the rocks and air arous'd my ire? Nor goats, nor sheep, nor shepherds did conspire To pain my bosom, nor to fix my fate; Why then shall harmless these deserve my hate? Oh, I repent! my furious vows recant, With all my wrathful execrating rant. For if what anger's fierce vindictive arm. Or madness' rash precipitate alarm, Should bid, and in their order be obey'd▪ How could I hope to see the beauteous Maid?

No! let the tender blandishments of all, Unite their charms my Phyllis to recal. Let the rough thorn with fragrant roses blow, And the green earth with golden harvests glow; Let the soft air the feather'd songsters fill With wood-notes warbled from each dale and hill; Let the glad herds their joyful lowings raise, And blythsome flocks in foodful pastures graze; Ye swains, for you may pleasures new appear, And spring perpetual rule the circling year; May winter's face with lasting green be crown'd, And gentle suns enrich the fruitful ground.

Thus, as he sung, the herdsmen, flocks and swains, Bedew'd their cheeks to hear his moving strains; Cupid himself (the savage archer) moan'd, And from its caves the hollow mountain groan'd.