Maudipore, June ye 13th, 1757.
My dear Sir,—You will questionless experience some surprise to receive a communication from me out of my usual order, and dealing with none of those important matters to the elucidation of which my present journey is directed, and the surprise will be increased when you are good enough to examine the enclosed Pastoral Piece, belonging to a species of composition never yet attempted by me. It has so chanced, however, that the necessity of inditing to an elegant and virtuous lady an epistle in a somewhat more lively style than ordinary, has inflamed me with the desire of turning to the improvement of others the history of two young persons in whom I have conceived a paternal concern. Remembering my honoured friend’s design of composing at some future period a second series of papers similar in their treatment to his immortal ‘Rambler,’ I have ventured to compile this little anecdote for his acceptance, disguising slightly the names of the persons affected, and adhering with the utmost strictness to the just rules he has propounded for the writing of Pastoral. I had, I’ll own, some notion of following the precedent set by the erudite Sannazarius, and presenting my personages as fishers instead of shepherds (and this in relation more especially to the gentleman, who pursues the maritime calling); but the recollection of the arguments which you, my good sir, have directed against this innovation, quickly dissuaded me, for how should one whose chief passport to favour, even in these distant regions, is the fact that he is the friend of Samuel Johnson, oppose himself to the erudition of his preceptor? In one point, sir, I’ll confess you will discover me to have forsook your example, and this is with respect to the introduction of the scenery and products of the East. The bird of Paradise, I am informed, is not a native of Indostan, nor does it utter any song worth mentioning, while the oak and the primrose are not to be discovered among the spice-groves of these countries.[03] To enter into a discussion of the subject would be impertinent in a work of the imagination, and I have therefore contented myself with citing such natural objects as I required, without describing them. Any criticisms that my honoured friend may be so kind as to offer will be welcomed by his most obliged, obedient servant,
Jno. Dacre.
The Exacting Lovers. A Pastoral.
Colin and Silvia were two young persons who appeared to all their acquaintance to be formed for each other. His mind was something of a gloomy cast, while she was possessed of a sprightly turn of humour; he was apt to be overbearing in his air, and she was endowed with that easy softness which is the most admirable characteristic of her sex; his disposition was of the sort that is on the watch for slights, hers inclined her to believe anything of her friends rather than that they were intentionally unkind. The chain that bound their lives in one was forged out of a long series of affecting incidents, which it is not convenient to include in the present tale. It will suffice to say, that Sinzonius, the tyrant of a town adjacent to the pastoral region in which Colin and Silvia fed their flocks, captivated by the beauty of the lovely maid, carried her away to his stronghold, proposing to himself to keep her immured until she consented to his desires. This execrable project was foiled by the resolution of Colin, who, assembling hastily his brother-shepherds, took advantage of the tyrant’s absence to release the imprisoned fair. Such a service, in the estimation of all around, entitled the rescuer to the highest recompense that Silvia could bestow, and attended with a numerous throng of swains and nymphs, the youthful pair betook themselves to the temple of Venus, where they plighted their eternal vows amid the acclamations of all present. There being among the ministers of the temple, however, a spy in the pay of Sinzonius, this fellow hastened to inform his patron of what he had witnessed, whereupon the haughty prince vowed to be avenged upon those who had so successfully defied him, although he did not venture to attack them openly.
In a commodious cave that extended into the mountains overhanging the vale in which Colin and Silvia had fixed their modest abode, resided a venerable and pious hermit named Damœtas, who had beheld with a paternal satisfaction the establishment of their humble household. Living remote from the converse of men, he had not become sensible of the alarming menaces of Sinzonius when, quitting his rugged solitudes, he repaired one morning to the smiling plains beneath for the purpose of enquiring into the welfare of his youthful friends. His progress was frequently interrupted by the respectful greetings of the shepherds he passed, who, leaving their pastoral avocations, hastened to implore his benediction; but arriving at length in the vicinity of Colin’s hut, what was his astonishment to discover in the youth, who lay stretched on the turf in an agreeable glade, a prey to the liveliest manifestations of grief. The garlands were fallen unheeded from his locks, and his sheep wandered at will, unrestrained by his idle crook. Profoundly affected by the sight of such extreme melancholy, Damœtas made haste to ask him how he did, and whether all was well with the amiable Silvia.
“Alas, Damœtas!” sighed the unfortunate Colin, “my imagined felicity is no more. I find myself shipwrecked when I fancied I was arrived in port.”
“Unhappy youth, unfold your sorrows to me,” said the sympathising hermit. “Have wild beasts attacked your flock, or is the herbage parched with drought?”
“Such misfortunes as these,” replied Colin, “would be trivial to that which is befallen me. My adored Silvia repents already of her condescension.”
“Is it possible?” cried the hermit; “she repents that she plighted her vows to you?”