Thought, Mr. _PHILIPS_, in his Pastorals, has hit upon.

_Teach me to grieve, with bleating Moan, my Sheep,
Teach me, thou ever-flowing Stream, to weep;
Teach me, ye faint, ye hollow Winds, to sigh,
And let my Sorrows teach me how to dye_.

The Thought likewise of the Heavens and the Works of Nature wailing
along with the Swain, is what Pastoral-Writers all aim at. I need not
quote different Authors, for the different Turns that are given to this
Thought; I remember Mr. _CONGREVE_ has it in four several Places. The
best express'd, I think, is this.

_The Rocks can Melt, and Air in Mists can mourn,
And Floods can weep, and winds to Sighs can turn, &c_.

It seem's to be turn'd the best next in these Lines.

_And now the Winds, which had so long been still,
Began the swelling Air, with Sighs to fill, &c_.

The Affectation of the Thought show's it self rather more, I think, in
the following Lines.

_And see, the Heav'ns to weep in Dew prepare.
And heavy Mists obscure the burd'ned Air
On ev'ry Tree the Blossoms turn to Tears,
And every Bough a weeping Moisture bears_.

But give me leave to quote the Thought once more and I have done.