Bacia la sua campagna:

Odi quel usignuolo,

Che va di ramo in ramo,

Cantando, io amo, io amo: e se no'l sai,

La biscia lascia il suo veleno, e corre
Cupida al suo amatore:

Van le tigri in amore:

Ama il leon superbo: e tu sol, fiera
Piu che tutte le fere,

Albergo gli dineghi nel suo petto.
Ma che dico leoni, e tigri, e serpi,
Che pur an sentimento? Amano ancora
Gli alberi. Vederi puoi con quanto affetto
E con quanti iterati abbraciamenti
La vite s'avviticchia al suo marito;
L'abete ama l'abete, il pino il pino,
L'orno per l' orno, e per lo salce il salce,

E l' un per l' altro faggio arde e sospira, &c.

Too cruel offspring of so kind a sire!
When was it heard that e'er the tender lamb
Produced a tiger, or the rook a swan?—
Sure you deceive yourself, or jest with me.

SILVIA.

How can I choose but hate his love,
Which hates my chastity?

DAPHNE.

Now tell me, should another thus address thee, Would'st thou in such harsh kind receive his love?

SILVIA.

In such harsh kind I ever would receive The traitor who would steal my virgin jewel: Whom you term lover I account a foe.

DAPHNE.

Thus to the ewe the ram

Thou deem'st a foe; or to the tender heifer,
The sturdy bull; the turtle to its mate.

Thus the delightful spring

Seems in thy mind the season of fell hate,

And deadly enmity; the lovely spring
That smiling prompts to universal love,

That rouses nature's flame through all her bounds:
Nor less in animals of every kind,

Than favour'd man. See how creation glows,
In all her works, with love's imperious flame!
Mark yonder doves that bill, and sport, and kiss:
Hear'st thou the nightingale, as on the bough
She evermore repeats, "I love, I love:
The wily snake sheaths her envenomed fang,
And sinuous glides her to her glossy mate:
The savage tiger feels the potent flame:
The grim majestic lion growls his love

To the resounding forest.-Wilder thou

Than nature's wildest race, spurn'st at that power
To which all nature bows.-But why of these,
Of the grim lion, or the spotted lynx,

Or wily serpent?-these have sense and feeling.
Even trees inanimate confess the god:

See how the vine clings with a fond embrace;

The mountain fir, the pine, the elm, the beech,

Have each their favour'd mate: they burn, they sigh, &c.

SILVIA.

Well, when my ears shall hear their sighs of love, Perhaps I too may learn to love like them.

By a similar strain of argument, Linco, in the 'Pastor Fido,' endeavours to persuade Silvio to love, whose sole delight is in the chase, and who tells his adviser, that he would not give one wild beast, taken by his dog Melampo, for a thousand beautiful nymphs. Linco bids him "See how all nature loves, the heavens, the earth, the sea; and that beautiful morning star that now shines so bright, she likewise loves, and shines more splendid from her amorous flame: see how she blushes, for now perhaps she has just left the stolen embraces of her lover. The woods, and all their savage inhabitants, the seas, the dolphins, the huge whales," &c., &c.

When

How poor is all this refinement and conceit, when compared with the language of truth and nature! Peggy, in the confidence of a warm and innocent heart, describes to her companion the delights of a mutual passion, the enjoyments of domestic bliss, and the happiness arising from the exercise of the parental duties and affections; contrasting these with the cold and selfish feelings of determined celibacy, it is nature that speaks in every line, and the heart yields its warmest sympathy as the judgment its complete conviction :

PEGGY.

Sic coarse-spun thoughts as thae want pith to move
My settled mind; I'm o'er far gane in love.

Patie to me is dearer than my breath;

But want of him I dread nae other skaith.

There's nane of a' the herds that tread the green

Has sic a smile, or sic twa glancing een.

And then he speaks wi' sic a taking art,

His words they thrill like music through my heart;
How blythely can he sport, and gently rave,
And jest at feckless fears that fright the lave!
Ilk day that he's alane upon the hill,

He reads fell books that teach him meikle skill:

1

He is—but what need I say that or this,

I'd spend a month to tell you what he is!

To the sarcastical picture which Jenny draws of the anxieties and turmoil of a wedded life, Peggy thus warmly replies:

Yes, it's a heartsome thing to be a wife,

When round the ingle-edge young sprouts are rife.
Gif I'm sae happy, I shall hae delight

ATOTHE

To hear their little plaints, and keep them right.
Wow, Jenny! can there greater pleasure be,
Than see sie wee tots toolying at your knee:
When a' they ettle at, their greatest wish,
Is to be made of, and obtain a kiss?

Can there be toil in tenting day and night

The like of them, when love makes care delight? (

JENNY.

But poortith, Peggy, is the warst of a'.

BOD

Gif o'er your heads ill-chance should beggary draw:
Your nowt may die; the spate may bear away
Frae aff the howms your dainty rucks of hay;
The thick-blawn wreaths of snaw, or blashy thows,
May smoor your wethers, and may rot your ewes, &c.

PEGGY.

May sic ill luck befa' that silly she

Wha has sic fears, for that was never me!

Let folk bode weel, and strive to do their best,

Nae mair's required; let heaven make out the rest.

(1) When the sentiments are drawn from nature, it is not surprising that, where the subject is similar, there should be a concurrence of thought between two genuine poets, who never saw each other's works. How similar is the following passage of the 10th satire of Boileau to the !imagery of this beautiful family picture!

Quelle joie en effet, quelle douceur extreme

De se voir caresser d'une epouse qu'on aime;—
De voir autour de soi croitre dans la maison,
Sous les paisibles loix d'une agréable mere
De petits citoyens dont on croit être pere!

Quel charme au moindre mal qui nous vient menacer
De la voir aussitot accourir, s'empresser, &c.

I've heard my honest uncle aften say,

That lads should a' for wives that's virtuous pray;
For the maist thrifty man could never get

A weel-stor❜d room, unless his wife wad let.
Wherefore nocht shall be wanting on my part,
To gather wealth to raise my shepherd's heart:
Whate'er he wins I'll guide wi' canny care,
And win the vogue at market, tron, or fair,
For halesome, clean, cheap, and sufficient ware.
A flock of lambs, cheese, butter, and some woo',
Shall first be sald to pay the laird his due;

Syne a' behind's our ain.—Thus, without fear,
Wi' love and rowth we through the warld will steer:
And when my Pate in bairns and gear grows rife,
He'll bless the day he gat me for his wife.

JENNY.

But what if some young giglet on the green, Wi' dimpled cheeks, and twa bewitching een, Should gar your Patie think his half-worn Meg, And her ken'd kisses, hardly worth a feg?

PEGGY.

Nae mair of that!-Dear Jenny, to be free,
There's some men constanter in love than we.
Nor is the ferly great, when nature kind
Has blest them with solidity of mind:

They'll reason calmly, and with kindness smile,
When our short passions would our peace beguile:
Sae whensoe'er they slight their maiks at hame,
'Tis ten to ane the wives are maist to blame.
Then I'll employ wi' pleasure a' my art,
To keep him cheerfu', and secure his heart.
At e'en, when he comes weary frae the hill,
I'll hae a' things made ready to his will;
In winter, when he toils through wind and rain,
A bleezing ingle, and a clean hearth-stane;
And soon as he flings by his plaid and staff,
The seething pat 's be ready to tak' aff.
Clean hag-a-bag I'll spread upon his board,
And serve him wi' the best we can afford: