,
And palm-like bravely overtops the weight.
So where swift Isca from our lofty hills
With loud farewells descends, and foaming fills
A wider channel, like some great port-vein
With large rich streams to fill the humble plain:
I saw an oak, whose stately height and shade,
Projected far, a goodly shelter made;
And from the top with thick diffused boughs
In distant rounds grew like a wood-nymph's house.
Here many garlands won at roundel-lays
Old shepherds hung up in those happy days
With knots and girdles, the dear spoils and dress
Of such bright maids as did true lovers bless.
And many times had old Amphion made
His beauteous flock acquainted with this shade:
His flock, whose fleeces were as smooth and white
As those the welkin shows in moonshine night.
Here, when the careless world did sleep, have I
In dark records and numbers nobly high,
The visions of our black, but brightest bard
From old Amphion's mouth full often heard;
With all those plagues poor shepherds since have known,
And riddles more, which future time must own:
While on his pipe young Hylas play'd, and made
Music as solemn as the song and shade.
But the curs'd owner from the trembling top
To the firm brink did all those branches lop;
And in one hour what many years had bred,
The pride and beauty of the plain, lay dead.
The undone swains in sad songs mourn'd their loss,
While storms and cold winds did improve the cross;
But nature, which--like virtue--scorns to yield,
Brought new recruits and succours to the field;
For by next spring the check'd sap wak'd from sleep,
And upwards still to feel the sun did creep;
Till at those wounds, the hated hewer made,
There sprang a thicker and a fresher shade.

_Menalcas._

So thrives afflicted Truth, and so the light
When put out gains a value from the night.
How glad are we, when but one twinkling star
Peeps betwixt clouds more black than is our tar:
And Providence was kind, that order'd this
To the brave suff'rer should be solid bliss:
Nor is it so till this short life be done,
But goes hence with him, and is still his sun.

_Damon._

Come, shepherds, then, and with your greenest bays
Refresh his dust, who lov'd your learned lays.
Bring here the florid glories of the spring,
And, as you strew them, pi