Jealousy. Eclogue III

The gods, O WALPOLE, give no bliss sincere; Wealth is disturb'd by care, and pow'r by fear, Of all the passions that employ the mind, In gentle Love the sweetest joys we find; Yet ev'n those joys dire Jealousy molests, And blackens each fair image in our breasts. O may the warmth of thy too tender heart Ne'er feel the sharpness of his venom'd dart; For thy own quiet think thy mistress just, And wisely take thy happiness on trust.

Begin, my muse, and Damon's woes rehearse, In wildest numbers and disorder'd verse.

On a romantick mountain's airy head (While browzing goats at ease around him fed) Anxious he lay, with jealous cares oppress'd; Distrust and anger lab'ring in his breast— The vale beneath, a pleasing prospect yields, Of verdant meads and cultivated fields; Through these a river rolls its winding flood, Adorn'd with various tufts of rising wood; Here half conceal'd in trees a cottage stands, A castle there the opening plain commands, Beyond, a town with glitt'ring spires is crown'd, And distant hills the wide horizon bound: So charming was the scene, a while the swain Beheld delighted, and forgot his pain; But soon the stings infix'd within his heart, With cruel force renew'd their raging smart: His flow'ry wreath, which long with pride he wore, The gift of Delia, from his brows he tore, Then cry'd; May all thy charms, ungrateful maid, Like these neglected roses droop and fade; May angry heav'n deform each guilty grace, That triumphs now in that deluding face; Those alter'd looks may every shepherd fly, And ev'n thy Daphnis hate thee worse than I.

Say, thou inconstant, what has Damon done, To lose the heart his tedious pains had won? Tell me what charms you in my rival find, Against whose pow'r no ties have strength to bind? Has he, like me, with long obedience strove To conquer your disdain, and merit love? Has he with transport every smile ador'd, And dy'd with grief at each ungentle word? Ah no! the conquest was obtain'd with ease; He pleas'd you, by not studying to please: His careless indolence your pride alarm'd; And had he lov'd you more, he less had charm'd.

O pain to think, another shall possess Those balmy lips which I was wont to press: Another on her panting breast shall lie, And catch sweet madness from her swimming eye!— I saw their friendly flocks together feed, I saw them hand in hand walk o'er the mead: Wou'd my clos'd eyes had sunk in endless night, Ere I was doom'd to bear that hateful sight! Where e'er they pass'd, be blasted every flow'r, And hungry wolves their helpless flocks devour.— Ah wretched swain, cou'd no examples move Thy heedless heart to shun the rage of Love? Hast thou not hear'd how poor Menalcas dy'd A victim to Parthenia's fatal pride? Dear was the youth to all the tuneful plain, Lov'd by the nymphs, by Phoebus lov'd in vain: Around his tomb their tears the muses paid, And all things mourn'd but the relentless maid. Wou'd I cou'd die like him and be at peace; These torments in the quiet grave wou'd cease, There my vex'd thoughts a calm repose wou'd find, And rest as if my Delia still were kind. No, let me live her falsehood to upbraid: Some god perhaps my just revenge will aid.— Alas what aid, fond swain, wou'dst thou receive? Cou'd thy heart bear to see its Delia grieve? Protect her, heav'n, and let her never know The slightest part of hapless Damon's woe: I ask no vengeance from the pow'rs above; All I implore is never more to love— Let me this fondness from my bosom tear, Let me forget that e'er I thought her fair. Come, cool indifference, and heal my breast; Wearied, at length I seek thy downy rest: No turbulence of passion shall destroy My future ease with flatt'ring hopes of joy, Hear, mighty Pan, and all ye Sylvans hear, What by your Guardian deities I swear; No more my eyes shall view her fatal charms, No more I'll court the trait'ress to my arms; Not all her arts my steddy soul shall move, And she shall find that Reason conquers Love—

Scarce had he spoke, when through the lawn below Alone he saw the beauteous Delia go; At once transported, he forgot his vow, (Such perjuries the laughing gods allow) Down the steep hills with ardent haste he flew; He found her kind, and soon believ'd her true.