For this with cheerful cries the woods resound, The purple spring arrays the varied ground, The nymphs and shepherds dance, and Pan himself is crown'd.

The wolf no longer prowls for nightly spoils, Nor birds the springes fear, nor stags the toils; For Daphnis reigns above, and deals from thenco

His mother's milder beams, and peaceful influence.

The mountain-tops unshorn, the rocks rejoice;
The lowly shrubs partake of human voice.
Assenting Nature, with a gracious nod,
Proclaims him, and salutes the new-admitted
god.

Be still propitious, every good be thine!
Behold! four hallow'd altars we design;
And two to thee, and two to Phoebus rise;
On both is offer'd annual sacrifice.
The holy priests, at each returning year,
Two bowls of milk and two of oil shall bear ;
And I myself the guests with friendly bowls will

cheer.

Two goblets will I crown with sparkling wine,
The gen'rous vintage of the Chian vine:
These will I pour to thee, and make the nectar
thine.

In winter shall the genial feast be made
Before the fire; by sumtner in the shade,
Damætas shall perform the rites divine;
And Lycian Egon in the song shall join.
Alphesibæus, tripping, shall advance,
And mimic satyrs in his antic dance,
When to the nymphs our annual rites we pay,
And when our fields with victims we survey-
While savage boars delight in shady woods,
And finny fish inhabit in the floods-
While bees on thyme, and locusts feed on dew-
Thy grateful swains these honours shall re-

new.

Such honours as we pay to pow'rs divine,
To Bacchus and to Ceres, shall be thine.
Such annual honours shall be given; and thou
Shalt hear, and shalt condemn thy suppliants to

their vow.

MOPSUS.

What present, worth thy verse, can Mopsus find?

Not the soft whispers of the southern wind, That play through trembling trees, delight me

more

Nor murmuring billows on the sounding shore; Nor winding streams that through the valley glide,

And the scarce cover'd pebbles gently chide.

MENALCAS.

Receive you first this tuneful pipe, the same That play'd my Corydon's unhappy flame:

The same that sung Neæra's conqu❜ring eyes, And, had the judge been just, had won the prize.

MOPSUS.

Accept from me this sheep-hook in exchange;
The handle brass; the knobs in equal range,
Antigenes, with kisses, often tried
To beg this present, in his beauty's pride
When youth and love are hard to be denied:
But what I could refuse to his request,
Is yours unask'd; for you deserve it best.

PASTORAL VL

OR,

SILENUS.

ARGUMENT.

Two young shepherds, Chromís and Mnasylus having been often promised a song by Silenus chance to catch him asleep in this pastoral; where they bind him hand and foot, and then claim his promise. Silenus, finding they would be put off no longer, begins his song, in which he describes the formation of the universe, and the original of animals, according to the Epicurean philosophy; and then runs through the most surprising transformations which have happened in Nature since her birth. This pastoral was designed as a compliment to Syron the Epicurean, who instructed Virgil and Varus in the principles of that philosophy. Silenus acts as tutor, Chromis and Mnasylus as the two pupils.

I FIRST transferr'd to Rome Sicilian strains; Nor blush'd the Doric Muse to dwell on Man

tuan plains.

But when I tried her tender voice, too young,
And fighting kings and bloody battles sung,
Apollo check'd my pride, and bade me feed
My fatt'ning flocks, nor dare beyond the reed.
Adinonish'd thus, while every pen prepares
To write thy praises, Varus, and thy wars,
My past'ral Muse her humble tribute brings;
And yet not wholly uninspir'd she sings:
For all who read, and, reading, not disdain
These rural poems, and their lowly strain,
The name of Varus, oft inscrib'd shall see
In ev'ry grove, and ev'ry vocal tree;
And all the sylvan reign shall sing of thee:
Thy name, to Phoebus and the muses known.
Shall in the front of ev'ry page be shown;
For, he who sings thy praise secures his own.
Proceed, my Muse!-Two Satyrs on th
ground,

Stretch'd at his case, their sire Silenus found.
Doz'd with his fumes, and heavy with his load,
They found him snoring in his dark abode,
And seiz'd with youthful arms the drunken god
His rosy wreath was dropt not long before,
Borne by the tide of wine, and floating on the

floor.

BENEATH a holm, repair'd two jolly swains,
(Their sheep and goats together graz'd the
plains)

Both young Arcadians, both alike inspir'd
To sing, and answer as the song requir'd.
Daphnis, as umpire, took the middle seat;
And fortune thither led my weary feet.
For, while I fenc'd my myrtles from the cold,
The father of my flock had wander'd from the
fold.

Of Daphnis I inquir'd: he smiling said,
"Dismiss your fear," and pointed where he fed
"And if no greater cares disturb your mind,
Sit here with us in covert of the wind.
Your lowing heifers, of their own accord,
At wat'ring time, will seek the neighbouring
ford.

Here wanton Mincius winds along the meads, And shades his happy banks with bending reeds.

And see, from yon old oak that meets the skies,
How black the clouds of swarming bees arise."
What should I do? nor was Alcippi nigh,
Nor absent Phillis could my care supply,
To house, and feed by hand my weaning lambs,
And drain the strutting udders of their dams.
Great was the strife betwixt the singing swains:
And I preferr'd my pleasure to my gains.
Alternate rhyme the ready champion chose:
These Corydon rehears'd, and Thyrsis those.
CORYDON,

Ye muses, ever fair and ever young,
Assist my numbers and inspire my song.
With all my Codrus, O! inspire my breast;
For Codrus, after Phœbus, sings the best.
Or, if my wishes have presum'd too high,
And stretch'd their bounds beyond mortality,
The praise of artful numbers I resign,
And hang my pipe upon the sacred pine.

THYRSIS.

Arcadian swains, your youthful poet crown With ivy-wreaths, though surly Codrus frown. Or, if he blast my muse with envious praise, Then fence my brows with amulets of bays. Lest his ill arts or his malicious tongue Should poison, or bewitch my growing song.

CORYDON.

These branches of a stag, this tusky boar "The first essay of arms untried before)

Young Micon offers, Delia, to thy shrine. But, speed his hunting with thy pow'r divine; Thy statue then of Parian stone shall stand; Thy legs in buskins with a purple band.

THYRSIS.

This bowl of milk, these cakes, (our country fare)

For thee, Priapus, yearly we prepare,
Because a little garden is thy care.
But, if the falling lambs increase my fold,
Thy marble statue shall be turn'd to gold.

CORYDON.

⚫ CORYDON.

The poplar is by great Alcides worn;
The brows of Phoebus his own bays adorn ;
The branching vine the jolly Bacchus loves;
The Cyprian queen delights in myrtle groves;
With hazel Phyllis crowns her flowing hair;
And, while she loves that common wreath to

wear,

Nor bays, nor myrtle boughs, with hazel shall compare.

THYRSIS.

The tow'ring ash is fairest in the woods;
In gardens, pines, and poplars by the floods;
But, if my Lucidas will ease my pains,
And often visit our forsaken plains,

To him the tow'ring ash shall yield in woods,
In gardens, pines, and poplars by the floods.

MELIBCUS.

These rhymes I did to memory commend, When vanquish'd Thyrsis did in vain contend; Since when 'tis Corydon among the swains, Young Corydon without a rival reigns.

PASTORAL VIII

OR

PHARMACEUTRIA.

ARGUMENT.

This pastoral contains the songs of Damon and Alphesibæus. The first of them bewails the loss of his mistress, and repines at the success of his rival Mopsus. The other repeats the charms of

some enchantress, who endeavoured by her spells and magic to make Daphnis in love with her.

THE mournful muse of two despairing swains,
The love rejected and the lovers' pains;
To which the savage lynxes list'ning stood;
The rivers stood in heaps, and stopp'd the run-
ning flood;

The hungry herd their needful food refuse-
Of two despairing swains, I sing the mournful

muse.

Great Pollio! thou, for whom thy Rome prepares

The ready triumph of thy finish'd wars,
Whether Timavus or th' Illyrian coast,
Whatever land or sea, thy presence boast;
Is there an hour in fate reserved for me,
To sing thy deeds in numbers worthy thee?
In numbers like to thine, could I rehearse,
Thy lofty tragic scenes, thy labour'd verse,
The world another Sophocles in thee,
Another Homer should behold in me
Amidst thy laurels let this ivy twine:
Thine was my earliest muse, my latest shall
be thine.

Scarce from the world the shades of night

withdrew,

Scarce were the flocks refresh'd with morning dew,

When Damon, stretch'd beneath an olive shade,
And wildly staring upwards, thus inveigh'd
Against the conscious gods, and curs'd the
maid:

"Star of the morning, why dost thou delay?
Come, Lucifer, drive on the lagging day,
While I my Nisa's perjur'd faith deplore-
Witness, ye pow'rs by whom she falsely swore
The gods, aias! are witnesses in vain :
Yet shall my dying breath to heaven complain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Manalian

"O Nisa' justly to thy choice condemn'd! Whom hast thou taken, whom hast thou contemn'd?

For him, thou hast refus'd my browzing herd, Scorn'd my thick eye-brows, and my shaggy beard.

Unhappy Damon sighs and sings in vain, While Nisa thinks no god regards a lover's pain,

Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian strain.

"I view'd thee first, (how fatal was the view!) And led thee where the ruddy wildings grew, High on the planted hedge, and wet with morning dew.

Then scarce the bending branches I could win ;
The callow down began to clothe my chin.
I saw, I perish'd, yet indulg'd my pain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian

strain.

"I know thee, love! in deserts the. wert And at the dugs of savage tigers fed; [bred,

And let the trembling lamb the wolf pursue.
Let oaks now glitter with Hesperian fruit,
And purple daffodils from alder shoot;
Fat amber let the tamarisk distil,

And hooting owls contend with swans in skill; Hoarse Tyrus strive with Orpheus in the woods,

strain.

And challenge fam'd Arion on the floods.
Or, oh, let Nature cease, and Chaos reign!
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian
[tide
"Let earth be sea, and let the whelming
The lifeless limbs of luckless Damon hide :
Farewell, ye secret woods and shady groves,
Haunts of my youth, and conscious of my
loves!

From yon high cliff I plunge into the main :
Take the last present of thy dying swain:
And cease, my silent flute, the sweet Manali-
strain."

Now take your turns, ye Muses, to rehearse His friend's complaints, and mighty magic

verse.

"Bring running water; bind those altars round With fillets, and with vervain strew the ground: Make fat with frankincense the sacred fires, To reinflame my Daphnis with desires. 'Tis done: we want but verse.-Restore, my charms,

My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms. "Pale Phoebe, drawn by verse, from heav'n descends;

And Circe chang'd with charms Ulysses' friends. Verse breaks the ground, and penetrates the brake,

And in the winding cavern splits the snake. Verse fires the frozen veins.-Restore, my charms,

My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms.

"Around his waxen image first I wind Three woollen fillets, of three colours join'd; Tarice bind about his thrice devoted head, Which round the sacred altar thrice is led. Unequal numbers please the gods.-My charms, Restore my Daphnis to my longing arms.

"Knit with three knots the fillets: knit them strait;

Then say, These knots to love I consecrate.' Haste, Amaryllis, haste !-Restore, my charms, My lovely Daphnis to my longing arms.

"As fie this figure hardens, made of clay, And this of wax with fire consumes away; Such let the soul of cruel Daphnis beHard to the rest of women, soft to me. Crumble the sacred mole of salt and corn: Next in the fire the bays with brimstone burn: And, while it crackles in the sulphur, say, 'Tis I for Daphnis burn; thus Daphnis burn away!

This laurel is his fate.'-Restore, my charms, My lovely Daphnis to my longing arms.

"As when the raging heifer, through the

grove,

Stung with desire, pursues her wand'ring love;
Faint at the last, she seeks the weedy pools,
To quench her thirst, and on the rushes rolls,
Careless of night, unmindful to return;
Such fruitless fires perfidious Daphnis burn.
While I so scorn his love!-Restore, my charms,
My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms.

"These garments once were his, and left to

me,

The pledges of his promis'd loyalty,
Which underneath my threshold I bestow.
These pawns, O sacred earth! to me my
Daphnis owe,

As these were his, so mine is he.-My charms, Restore their ling'ring lord to my deluded arms, "These pois'nous plants, for magic use de

sign'd,

(The noblest and the best of all the baneful kind)

Old Maris brought me from the Pontic strand,
And cull'd the mischief of a bounteous land.
Smear'd with these powerful juices, on the plain,
He howls, a wolf among the hungry train;
And oft the mighty necromancer boasts,
With these, to call from tombs the stalking
ghosts,

And from the roots to tear the standing corn,
Which, whirl'd aloft, to distant fields is borne:
Such is the strength of spell. Restore, my
charms,

My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms. "Bear out these ashes: cast them in the