"... Eve's mantle gray, The rustling leaves do their white hearts affray. They regret the pleasures of their forsaken home, ... the kingcup decked mees, The spreading flocks of sheep of lily white, The tender applings and embodied trees, The parker's grange, far spreading to the sight, The gentle kine, the bullocks strong in fight, The garden whiten'd with the comfrey plant, The flowers Saint Mary shooting with the light-- ... The far-seen groves around the hermit's cell, The merry fiddle dinning up the dell, The joyous dancing in the hostry court-- But now, high song and every joy farewell, Farewell the very shade of fair disport." In the second Eclogue, a good son invokes blessings on his father, who is gone with the crusaders to Palestine. He describes with much animation the voyage, the landing in Syria, the warring Saracens, King Richard of lion's heart, and anticipates victory and the return to England. "Thus Nigel said, when from the azure sea The swollen sail did dance before his eyne. Swift as the wish he to the beach did fly, And found his father stepping from the brine. Sprites of the blest, the pious Nigel said, Pour out your pleasance on my father's head!" The third Eclogue, if divested of certain exuberances--for Chatterton was precocious in every thing, and many of his fancies want the Bowdler pruning-knife--might be seasonably transferred to some of the penny publications for the benefit of Mr Frost's disciples. A poor man and woman, on their way to the parson's hayfield, complain to each other of their hard lot in being obliged to earn their bread by the sweat of their brows. "Why," asks the woman, "should I be more obligated to work than the fine Dame Agnes? What is she more than me? The man, unable to solve so knotty a point, says he doesn't see how he himself is not as good as a lord's son, but he will ask Sir Roger the parson, whom he consults accordingly. "_Man_.--By your priestship now say unto me, Sir Godfrey the knight, who liveth hard by, Why should he than me Be more great In honour, knighthood, and estate? "_Sir Roger_.--If thou hast ease, the shadow of content, Believe the truth, none happier is than thee. Thou workest well; can that a trouble be? Sloth more would jade thee than the roughest day. Could'st thou the secret minds of others see, Thou would'st full soon see truth in what I say. But let me hear thy way of life, and then Hear thou from me the lives of richer men.