FOOTNOTES:
[1] This Pastoral consists of two parts, like the eighth of Virgil: the scene, a hill; the time, at sunset.—Pope.
[2] Mr. Wycherley, a famous author of comedies; of which the most celebrated were the Plain-Dealer and Country-Wife. He was a writer of infinite spirit, satire, and wit. The only objection made to him was, that he had too much. However, he was followed in the same way by Mr. Congreve, though with a little more correctness.—Pope.
[3] Formed on Dryden's version of Ecl. i. 1:
[4] Before the edition of 1736 the couplet ran thus:
While one his mistress mourns, and one his friend.
In keeping with this announcement the song of Hylas, which forms the first portion of the Pastoral, was devoted to mourning an absent shepherd, and not, as at present, an absent shepherdess. When Pope made his lines commemorative of love, instead of friendship, he did little more than change the name of the man (Thyrsis) to that of a woman (Delia), and substitute the feminine for the masculine pronoun. The extravagant idea expressed in the first line of the rejected couplet is found in Oldham's translation of Moschus:
There is nothing of the kind in the Greek text.
[5] From Dryden's version of Ecl. i. 5:
And Amaryllis fills the shady groves.—Wakefield.
[6] Wycherley.
[7] He was always very careful in his encomiums not to fall into ridicule, the trap which weak and prostitute flatterers rarely escape. For "sense," he would willingly have said "moral;" propriety required it. But this dramatic poet's moral was remarkably faulty. His plays are all shamefully profligate, both in the dialogue and action.—Warburton.
Warburton's note has more the appearance of an insidious attack upon Pope than of serious commendation; for if, as Warburton assumes, the panegyric in the text has reference to the plays and not to the man, it was a misplaced "encomium" to say that Wycherley "instructed" the world by the "sense," and "swayed" them by the "judgment," which were manifested "in a shamefully profligate dialogue and action."
[8] The reading was "rapture" in all editions till that of 1736.
[9] Few writers have less nature in them than Wycherley.—Warton.
[10] Till the edition of 1736 the following lines stood in place of the couplet in the text:
She sings of friendship, and she sings to thee.
[11] Pope had Waller's Thyrsis and Galatea in his memory:
The list'ning trees, and savage mountains groan.—Wakefield.
The groans of the trees and mountains are, in Waller's poem, the echo of the mourner's lamentations, but to this Pope has added that the "moan" made "the rocks weep," which has no resemblance to anything in nature.
[12] The lines from verse 17 to 30 are very beautiful, tender, and melodious.—Bowles.
[13] It was a time-honoured fancy that the "moan" of the turtle-dove was a lament for the loss of its mate. Turtur, the Latin name for the bird, is a correct representation of its monotonous note. The poets commonly call it simply the turtle, but since the term, to quote the explanation of Johnson in his Dictionary, is also "used by sailors and gluttons for a tortoise" the description of its "deep murmurs" as "filling the sounding shores," calls up this secondary sense, and gives an air of ludicrousness to the passage.
[14] This whole passage is imitated from Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia, Book iii. p. 712, 8vo ed.:
Say all, and I with them,
Absence is death, or worse, to them that love.—Wakefield.
[15] Congreve's Mourning Muse of Alexis:
[16] Virg. Ecl. viii. 52:
Mala ferant quercus, narcisso floreat alnus;
Pinguia corticibus sudent electra myricæ.—Pope.
His obligations are also due to Dryden's version of Ecl. iv. 21:
And clustered grapes shall blush on ev'ry thorn:
And knotted oaks shall show'rs of honey weep,
And through the matted grass the liquid gold shall creep.
Bowles, in his translation of Theocritus, Idyll. v., assisted our bard:
And op'ning roses blush on ev'ry thorn.
He seems to have had in view also the third Eclogue of Walsh:
And from the brambles liquid amber flow.—Wakefield.
[17] These four lines followed in the MS.:
On Alpine mountains tread th' eternal snow;
Yet feel no heat but what our loves impart,
And dread no coldness but in Thyrsis' heart.—Warburton.
Wakefield remarks that the second line in this passage is taken from Dryden's Virg. Ecl. x. 71:
[18] Virg. Ecl. v. 46:
Dulcis aquæ saliente sitim restinguere rivo.—Pope.
[19] "Faint with pain" is both flat and improper. It is fatigue, and not pain that makes them faint.—Wakefield.
[20] The turn of the last four lines is evidently borrowed from Drummond of Hawthornden, a charming but neglected poet.
To mariners fair winds amid the main,
Cool shades to pilgrims, whom hot glances burn,
Are not so pleasing as thy blest return.—Warton.
[21] Virg. Ecl. viii. 108:
In the first edition, conformably to the original plan of the Pastoral, the passage stood thus:
He comes, my shepherd comes.—Wakefield.
[22] From Virg. Ecl. viii. 110:
Stafford's translation in Dryden's Miscellany:
My Daphnis comes, he comes, he flies into my arms.
[23] Dryden's Virg. Ecl. viii. 26, 29:
Yet shall my dying breath to heav'n complain.
[24] This imagery is borrowed from Milton's Comus, ver. 290:
In his loose traces from the furrow came.—Wakefield.
[25] Variation:
These two verses are obviously adumbrated from the conclusion of Virgil's first eclogue, and Dryden's version of it:
And curling smoke from cottages ascends.—Wakefield.
[26] This fancy he derived from Virgil, Ecl. x. 53:
The rind of ev'ry plant her name shall know. Dryden.—Wakefield.
Garth's Dispensary, Canto vi:
And willow garlands hang on ev'ry bough.
[27] According to the ancients, the weather was stormy for a few days when Arcturus rose with the sun, which took place in September, and Pope apparently means that rain at this crisis was beneficial to the standing corn. The harvest at the beginning of the last century was not so early as it is now.
[28] The scene is in Windsor Forest; so this image is not so exact.—Warburton.
[29] This is taken from Virg. Ecl. x. 26, 21:
Omnes, unde amor iste, rogant tibi.—Wakefield.
[30] Virg. Ecl. iii. 103:
Dryden's version of the original:
And what ill eyes beheld the tender lambs.—Wakefield.
[31] It should be "darted;" the present tense is used for the sake of the rhyme.—Warton.
[32] Variation:
Oh mighty Love! what magic is like thee?—Pope.
[33] Virg. Ecl. viii. 43:
Stafford's version of the original in Dryden's Miscellanies:
Pope was not unmindful of Dryden's translation:
And at the dugs of savage tigers fed.
He had in view also a passage in the Æneid, iv. 366, and Dryden's version of it:
And rough Hyrcanian tigers gave thee suck.
Nor did our author overlook the parallel passage in Ovid's Epistle of Dido to Æneas, and Dryden's translation thereof:
At least thou art from some fierce tigress come;
Or on rough seas, from their foundation torn,
Got by the winds, and in a tempest born.—Wakefield.
[34] Till the edition of Warburton, this couplet was as follows:
More fell than tigers on the Lybian plain.
[35] Were a man to meet with such a nondescript monster as the following, viz.: "Love out of Mount Ætna by a Whirlwind," he would suppose himself reading the Racing Calendar. Yet this hybrid creature is one of the many zoological monsters to whom the Pastorals introduce us.—De Quincy.
Sentiments like these, as they have no ground in nature, are of little value in any poem, but in pastoral they are particularly liable to censure, because it wants that exaltation above common life, which in tragic or heroic writings often reconciles us to bold flights and daring figures.—Johnson.
[36] Virg. Ecl. viii. 59:
Deferar.
From yon high cliff I plunge into the main. Dryden.—Wakefield.
This passage in Pope is a strong instance of the abnegation of feeling in his Pastorals. The shepherd proclaims at the beginning of his chant that it is his dying speech, and at the end that he has resolved upon immediate suicide. Having announced the tragedy, Pope treats it with total indifference, and quietly adds, "Thus sung the shepherds," &c.
[37] Ver. 98, 100. There is a little inaccuracy here; the first line makes the time after sunset; the second before.—Warburton.
Pope had at first written:
And heav'n yet languished with departing light.
"Quære," he says to Walsh, "if languish be a proper word?" and Walsh answers, "Not very proper."
[38] Virg. Ecl. ii. 67:
The shadows lengthen as the sun grows low. Dryden.—Wakefield.
"Objection," Pope said to Walsh, "that to mention the sunset after twilight (day yet strove with night) is improper. Is the following alteration anything better?
Walsh. "It is not the evening, but the sun being low that lengthens the shades, otherwise the second passage is the best."
WINTER:[1]
THE FOURTH PASTORAL,
OR
DAPHNE.
TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. TEMPEST.[2]
Is not so mournful as the strains you sing;[3]
Nor rivers winding through the vales below,[4]
So sweetly warble, or so smoothly flow.[5]
Now sleeping flocks on their soft fleeces lie,5
The moon, serene in glory, mounts the sky,
While silent birds forget their tuneful lays,
Oh sing of Daphne's fate, and Daphne's praise![6]
Their beauty withered, and their verdure lost!10
Here shall I try the sweet Alexis' strain,
That called the list'ning dryads to the plain?[7]
Thames heard the numbers as he flowed along,
And bade his willows learn the moving song.[8]
And swell the future harvest of the field.
Begin; this charge the dying Daphne gave,[10]
And said, "Ye shepherds sing around my grave!"
Sing, while beside the shaded tomb I mourn,
And with fresh bays her rural shrine adorn.[11]20
Let nymphs and sylvans cypress garlands bring
Ye weeping loves, the stream with myrtles hide,[12]
And break your bows, as when Adonis died;[13]
And with your golden darts, now useless grown,25
Inscribe a verse on this relenting stone:
"Let nature change, let heav'n and earth deplore,
"Fair Daphne's dead, and love is now no more!"[14]
'Tis done, and nature's various charms decay,[15]
See gloomy clouds obscure the cheerful day!30
Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear,[16]
Their faded honours scattered on her bier.[17]
See, where on earth the flow'ry glories lie,
With her they flourished, and with her they die.[18]
Ah what avail the beauties nature wore?35
Fair Daphne's dead, and beauty is no more!
For her the flocks refuse their verdant food,
The thirsty heifers shun the gliding flood,[19]
The silver swans her hapless fate bemoan,
In notes more sad than when they sing their own;[20]40
In hollow caves[21] sweet echo[22] silent lies,[23]
Silent, or only to her name replies:[24]
Her name with pleasure once she taught the shore,
Now Daphne's dead, and pleasure is no more!
No grateful dews descend from ev'ning skies,45
Nor morning odours from the flow'rs arise;
No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field,
No fragrant herbs their native incense yield.[25]
The balmy zephyrs, silent since her death,
Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath;[26]50
Th' industrious bees neglect their golden store![27]
Fair Daphne's dead, and sweetness is no more![28]
No more the mountain larks, while Daphne sings,[29]
Shall list'ning in mid-air suspend their wings;[30]
No more the birds shall imitate her lays,[31]55
Or hushed with wonder, hearken from the sprays:
No more the streams their murmurs shall forbear,
A sweeter music than their own to hear,[32]
But tell the reeds, and tell the vocal shore,
Fair Daphne's dead, and music is no more!60
Her fate is whispered by the gentle breeze,
And told in sighs to all the trembling trees;
The trembling trees, in ev'ry plain and wood,
Her fate remurmur to the silver flood;[33]
The silver flood, so lately calm, appears65
Swelled[34] with new passion, and o'erflows with tears;[35]
The winds, and trees, and floods, her death deplore,[36]
Daphne, our grief! our glory now no more!
But see! where Daphne wond'ring mounts on high[37]
Above the clouds, above the starry sky![38]70
Eternal beauties grace the shining scene,
Fields ever fresh, and groves for ever green!
There while you rest in amaranthine bow'rs,
Or from those meads select unfading flow'rs,
Behold us kindly, who your name implore,75
Daphne our goddess! and our grief no more!
Such silence waits on Philomela's strains,
In some still ev'ning, when the whisp'ring breeze
Pants on the leaves, and dies upon the trees.[40]80
To thee, bright goddess, oft a lamb shall bleed,[41]
If teeming ewes increase my fleecy breed.
While plants their shade, or flow'rs their odours give,[42]
Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise shall live![43]
Arise; the pines a noxious shade diffuse;
Sharp Boreas blows, and nature feels decay,
Time conquers all, and we must time obey,[45]
Adieu ye vales, ye mountains, streams, and groves,
Adieu ye shepherds' rural lays and loves;90
Adieu, my flocks;[46] farewell, ye sylvan crew;
Daphne, farewell; and all the word adieu![47]
FOOTNOTES:
[1] This was the poet's favourite Pastoral.—Warburton.
It is professedly an imitation of Theocritus, whom Pope does not resemble, and whose Idylls he could only have read in a translation. The sources from which he really borrowed his materials will be seen in the notes.
[2] This lady was of ancient family in Yorkshire, and particularly admired by the author's friend Mr. Walsh, who having celebrated her in a Pastoral Elegy, desired his friend to do the same, as appears from one of his letters, dated Sept. 9, 1706. "Your last Eclogue being on the same subject with mine on Mrs. Tempest's death, I should take it very kindly in you to give it a little turn, as if it were to the memory of the same lady." Her death having happened on the night of the great storm in 1703, gave a propriety to this Eclogue, which in its general turn alludes to it. The scene of the Pastoral lies in a grove, the time at midnight.—Pope.
I do not find any lines that allude to the great storm of which the poet speaks.—Warton.
Nor I. On the contrary, all the allusions to the winds are of the gentler kind,—"balmy Zephyrs," "whispering breezes" and so forth. Miss Tempest was the daughter of Henry Tempest, of Newton Grange, York, and grand-daughter of Sir John Tempest, Bart. She died unmarried. When Pope's Pastoral first appeared in Tonson's Miscellany, it was entitled "To the memory of a Fair Young Lady."—Croker.
[3] This couplet was constructed from Creech's translation of the first Idyll of Theocritus:
Than murm'ring springs that roll from yonder hill.—Wakefield.
[4] Suggested by Virg. Ecl. v. 83:
Saxosas inter decurrunt flumina valles.
For winding streams that through the valley glide. Dryden.—Wakefield.
[5] Milton, Par. Lost, v. 195:
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.
[6] Variation:
The cattle slumber on the silent plain,
While silent birds neglect their tuneful lays,
Let us, dear Thyrsis, sing of Daphne's praise.—Pope.
It was originally,
Pope. "Objection to the word remains. I do not know whether these following be better or no, and desire your opinion.
And folded flocks in their soft fleeces rest;
While sleeping birds, etc.
Or,
And scarce the winds the topmast branches moves.
or
And not a breeze the quiv'ring branches move."
Walsh. "I think the last the best, but might not even that be mended?"
[7] Garth's Dispensary, Canto iv.:
Pan quits the woods, the list'ning fauns the plains.
Dryden's Virgil, Ecl. vi. 100:
Among the poems of Congreve is one entitled "The Mourning Muse of Alexis, a Pastoral lamenting the death of Queen Mary." This was the "sweet Alexis strain" to which Pope referred, and which the Thames "bade his willows learn."
[8] Virg. Ecl. vi. 83:
Admitting that a river gently flowing may be imagined a sensible being listening to a song, I cannot enter into the conceit of the river's ordering his laurels to learn the song. Here all resemblance to anything real is quite lost. This however is copied literally by Pope.—Lord Kames.
[9] There is some connection implied between the "kind rains" and the "willows learning the song," but I cannot trace the idea.
[10] Virg. Ecl. v. 41:
[11] Rowe's Ambitious Step-Mother:
[12] Ver. 23, 24, 25. Virg. Ecl. v. 40, 42:
inducite fontibus umbras.... Et tumulum facite, et tumulo superaddite carmen.—Pope.
If the idea of "hiding the stream with myrtles" have either beauty or propriety, I am unable to discover them. Our poet unfortunately followed Dryden's turn of the original phrase in Virgil:
[13] This image is taken from Ovid's elegy on the death of Tibullus, Amor. iii. 9. 6:
Et fractos arcus, et sine luce facem.—Wakefield.
Ovid copied Bion. Idyl. 1. The Greek poet represents the Loves as trampling upon their bows and arrows, and breaking their quivers in the first paroxysm of their grief for Adonis. In place of this natural burst of uncontrollable sorrow, the shepherd, in Pope, invokes the Loves to break their bows at his instigation. When their darts are said in the next line to be henceforth useless, the sense must be that nobody would love any woman again since Mrs. Tempest was dead. Such hyperboles can neither touch the heart nor gratify the understanding. The Pastorals were verse exercises in which every pretence to real emotion was laid aside, for Pope was not even acquainted with the lady of whom he utters these extravagances.
[14] This is imitated from Walsh's Pastoral on the death of Mrs. Tempest in Dryden's Miscellanies, vol. v. p. 323:
Delia is dead, and beauty is no more.—Wakefield.
Congreve's Mourning Muse of Alexis:
And cry with me, Pastora is no more.
[15] Originally thus in the MS.
Behold the clouds have put their mourning on.—Warburton.
This low conceit, which our poet abandoned for the present reading, was borrowed from Oldham's version of the elegy of Moschus:
Does Phœbus clouds of mourning black put on.—Wakefield.
When Pope submitted the rejected and the adopted reading to Walsh, the critic replied, "Clouds put on mourning is too conceited for pastoral. The second is better, and the thick or the dark I like better than sable." The last verse of the couplet in the text was then
[16] Dryden's pastoral elegy on the death of Amyntas:
Wet was the grass and hung with pearls the thorn.
So in his version of Virgil, Ecl. x. 20:
[17] Spenser's Colin Clout:
[18] Oldham's translation of Moschus:
And scorns to thrive or live now thou art dead.—Wakefield.
[19] Variation:
Nor hungry heifers graze the tender plain.—Pope.
Dryden's Virg. Ecl. v. 38:
From water, and their grassy fare disdained.
Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar, November, ver. 123, where
because Dido is dead.
[20] Oldham's translation of Moschus:
In doleful notes the heavy loss bewail
Such as you sing at your own funeral.—Wakefield.
[21] Cowley in his verses on Echo:
In hollow solitary caves to dwell.—Wakefield.
[22] This expression of "sweet echo" is taken from Comus.—Warton.
[23] Oldham's translation of Moschus:
Since thou art mute, since thou art speechless grown.—Wakefield.
[24] The couplet was different in the early editions:
Her name alone the mournful echo sounds.
[25] In the MS.
This, with the reading in the text, was laid before Walsh, who selected the latter.
[26] Oldham's translation of Moschus:
Laments the ceasing of thy tuneful breath.
Sedley's Elegy:
Despairing now to fetch perfumes away.—Wakefield.
The couplet in the text is the third passage in Pope's Pastorals for which Ruffhead claims the merit of originality. The quotations of Wakefield show that the thought and the language are alike borrowed, and the only novelty is the bull, pointed out by Johnson, of making the zephyrs lament in silence.
[27] Oldham's version of Moschus:
[28] The same:
When thou, that wast all sweetness, art no more.—Wakefield.
[29] In the original draught Pope had again introduced the wolves, and the first four lines of this paragraph stood thus:
Shall cease to follow, and the lambs to fly:
No more the birds shall imitate your lays,
Or, charmed to silence, listen from the sprays.
[30] The image of the birds listening with their wings suspended in mid-air is striking, and, I trust, new.—Ruffhead.
This circumstance of the lark suspending its wings in mid-air is highly beautiful, because there is a veri similitudo in it, which is not the case where a waterfall is made to be suspended by the power of music.—Bowles.
[31] Oldham's translation of Moschus:
In list'ning flocks to learn his well-tuned song.
The line in the text was the earliest reading in the manuscript, but did not appear in print till the edition of Warburton. The reading in the previous editions was,
This idea of the nightingale repeating the lays is amplified by Philips in his Fifth Pastoral, who copied it, according to Pope in the Guardian, from Strada. Thence also it must have been borrowed by Pope, and he may have restored the primitive version to get rid of the coincidence.
[32] The veri similitudo, which Bowles commends in the description of the lark, is not to be found in the notion of the streams ceasing to murmur that they might listen to the song of Daphne. Milton does a similar violence to fact and imagination in his Comus, ver. 494, and many lesser poets, before and after him, adopted the poor conceit.
[33] Dryden's Æneis, vii. 1041:
In sighs remurmured to the Fucine floods.—Wakefield.
[34] This is barbarous: he should have written "swoln."—Wakefield.
[35] Ovid, Met. xi. 47:
Increvisse suis.
Oldham's translation of Moschus:
Her death, with grief swell higher than before.
Fenton in his pastoral on the Marquis of Blandford's death:
[36] Let grief or love have the power to animate the winds, the trees, the floods, provided the figure be dispatched in a single expression, but when this figure is deliberately spread out with great accuracy through many lines, the reader, instead of relishing it, is struck with its ridiculous appearance.—Lord Kames.
All this is very poor, and unworthy Pope. First the breeze whispers the death of Daphne to the trees; then the trees inform the flood of it; then the flood o'erflows with tears; and then they all deplore together. The whole pastoral would have been much more classical, correct, and pure, if these lines had been omitted. Let us, however, still remember the youth of Pope, and the example of prior poets.—Bowles.
Moschus in his third Idyll calls upon the nightingales to tell the river Arethusa that Bion is dead. Oldham in his imitation of Moschus exaggerated his original and commanded the nightingales to tell the news "to all the British floods,"—to see that it was "conveyed to Isis, Cam, Thames, Humber, and utmost Tweed," and these in turn were to be ordered "to waft the bitter tidings on." Pope went further than Oldham, and describes one class of inanimate objects as conveying the intelligence to another class of inanimate objects till the whole uttered lamentations in chorus. Each succeeding copyist endeavoured to eclipse his predecessor by going beyond him in absurdity. Most of the ideas adopted by Pope in his Winter had been employed by scores of elegiac bards. "The numerous pastorals upon the death of princes or friends," says Dr. Trapp, "are cast in the same mould; read one, you read all. Birds, sheep, woods, mountains, rivers, are full of complaints. Everything in short is wondrous miserable."
[37] Virg. Ecl. v. 56:
Sub pedibusque videt nubes et sidera Daphnis.—Pope.
Dryden thus renders the passage in Virgil:
Views in the milky way the starry skies.—Wakefield.
[38] In Spenser's November, and in Milton's Lycidas, there is the same beautiful change of circumstances.—Warton.
It was one of the stereotyped common-places of elegiac poems, and was ridiculed in No. 30 of the Guardian. The writer might almost be thought to have had this passage of Pope in his mind, if his satire did not equally apply to a hundred authors besides. A shepherd announces to his fellow-swain that Damon is dead. "This," says the Guardian, "immediately causes the other to make complaints, and call upon the lofty pines and silver streams to join in the lamentation. While he goes on, his friend interrupts him, and tells him that Damon lives, and shows him a track of light in the skies to conform to it. Upon this scheme most of the noble families in Great Britain have been comforted; nor can I meet with any right honourable shepherd that doth not die and live again, after the manner of the aforesaid Damon."
[39] The four opening lines of the speech of Lycidas were as follows in the MS.:
Than the soft whisper of the breathing wind,
Or whisp'ring groves, when some expiring breeze
Pants on the leaves, and trembles in the trees.
The first couplet of the original reading, and the phrase "trembles in the trees," in the second couplet, were from Dryden's Virg. Ecl. v. 128:
That play through trembling trees, delight me more.
[40] Milton, Il Penseroso:
Ending on the rustling leaves.
[41] Virg. Ecl. i. 7:
Sæpe tener, nostris ab ovilibus, imbuet agnus.—Pope.
He partly follows Dryden's translation of his original:
Shall on his holy altar often bleed.—Wakefield.
[42] Originally thus in the MS.
Thy honour, name, and praise shall never end.—Warburton.
[43] Virg. Ecl. v. 76:
Dumque thymo pascentur apes, dum rore cicadæ,
Semper honos, nomenque tuum, laudesque manebunt.—Wakefield.
[44] Virg. Ecl. x. 75:
Juniperi gravis umbra.—Pope.
Dryden's version of the passage is,
[45] Virg. Ecl. x. 69:
Vid. etiam Sannazarii Ecl. et Spenser's Calendar.—Warburton.
Dryden's verse is:
[46] There is a passage resembling this in Walsh's third eclogue:
Adieu, ye groves; a long, a long adieu.—Wakefield.
[47] These four last lines allude to the several subjects of the four Pastorals, and to the several scenes of them particularized before in each—Pope.
They should have been added by the poet in his own person, instead of being put into the mouth of a shepherd who is not presumed to have any knowledge of the previous pieces. The specific character which Pope ascribes to each of his Pastorals is not borne out by the poems themselves. There is as much about "flocks" in the first Pastoral as in the second; and there is as much about "rural lays and loves" in the second Pastoral as in the first. The third Pastoral contains no mention of a "sylvan crew," but a couple of shepherds are absorbed by the same "rural lays and loves" which occupied their predecessors.