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And draws and blows reciprocating air:
Others to quench the hiffing mass prepare:
With lifted arms they order ev'ry blow,
And chime their founding hammers in a row;
With labour'd anvils Etna groans below.
Strongly they strike, huge flakes of flames expire,
With tongs they turn the feel, and vex it in the fire.
If little things with great we may compare,
Such are the bees, and fuch their busy care:
Studious of honey, each in his degree,

The youthful fwain, the grave experienc'd bee:
That in the field; this in affairs of ftate,
Employ'd at home, abides within the gate;
To fortify the combs, to build the wall,
To prop the ruins, left the fabric fall:
But late at night, with weary pinions come
The lab'ring youth, and heavy laden home.
Plains, meads, and orchards all the day he plies;
The gleans of yellow thyme diftend his thighs:
He spoils the faffron flow'rs, he fips the blues
Of vi'lets, wilding blooms, and willow dews.
Their toil is common, common is their sleep;
They shake their wings when morn begins to peep;
Rush thro' the city gates without delay:
Nor ends their work, but with declining day:
Then having spent the last remains of light,
They give their bodies due repofe at night;
When hollow murmurs of their ev'ning bells,
Difmifs the fleepy fwains, and toll 'em to their cells.
When once in beds their weary limbs they fteep,
No buzzing founds difturb their golden fleep,
"Tis facred filence all. Nor dare they ftray,
When rain is promis'd, or a ftormy day:
But near the city walls their wat'ring take,
Nor forage far, but fhort excurfions make.

And as when empty barks on billows float,
With fandy ballaft failors trim the boat;
So bees bear gravel ftones, whofe poifing weight
Steers thro' the whistling winds their fteady flight.

But what's more ftrange, their modest appetites, Averfe from Venus fly the nuptial rites.

No luft enervates their heroick mind',

Nor waste their firength on wanton woman-kind,
But in their mouths refides their genial pow'rs,
They gather children from the leaves and flow'rs.
Thus make they kings to fill the regal feat:
And thus their little citizens Create:

And waxen cities build, the palaces of state.
And oft on rocks their tender wings they tear,
And fink beneath the burdens which they bear,
Such rage
of honey in their bofom beats:
And fuch. a zeal they have for flow'ry sweets.
Thus thro' the race of life they quickly run;
Which in the space of feven fhort years is done;
Th'immortal line in fure fucceffion reigns,
The fortune of the family remains ;

And grandfires grandsons the long list contains.
Befides, not Egypt, India, Media more
With fervile awe, their idol king adore :
While he furvives, in concord and content
The commons live, by no divifions rent;
But the great monarch's death diffolves the government.
All goes to ruin, they themselves contrive
To rob the honey, and fubvert the hive.
The king prefides, his fubjects toil furveys;
The fervile rout their careful Cafar praife :
Him they extol, they worship him alone.
They crowd his levies, and fupport his throne:
They raise him on their shoulders with a fhout:
And when their fov'reigns quarrel call 'em out,
His foes, to mortal combat they defy,

And think it honour at his feet to die.

}

The comparison he has drawn between the labours of the bees and thofe of the Cyclops is truly poetical; and the defcription of the battle between the two fwarms at the beginning of this book is attended with as much noife, hurry and fury, as any engagement in the Æneid. The method of appeafing thefe warriors by throwing duft in the air is a circumftance beautiful in itself and finely introduced: And the fpeech of Proteus, and the inftructions given at the end of this fable for obtaining a new

ftock of Bees, with the defcription of their nature and generation, will be ever the fubject of admiration

By the extracts and obfervations we have made, the reader will fee that the rules we have laid down to render this fort of poem delightful, are all to be found in Virgil; or rather, which indeed is the truth, he will perceive that we have drawn our rules from his great example. Virgil has omitted nothing that would contribute to make his precepts pleafing; and his fables, allegories, defcriptions, fimilies, reflections, remarks, digreffions, &c. feem all to fpring fpontaneoufly out of his fubject, and are fo contrived that they naturally bring him to it again. Even the episode of Orpheus and Eurydice, tho' very long, is in the place Virgil has affign'd it, a beauty of the firft magnitude, and is the more interefting for being pathetic.

We are now to speak of thofe poems which give precepts for the recreations and pleasures of a country life, and of these we have feveral in our own language that are justly admired. As the most confiderable of thofe diversions, however, are finely treated by Mr. Gay in his Rural Sports, we fhall draw fome examples from him. and firft of angling.

You must not ev'ry worm promifcuous ufe,
Judgment will tell the proper bait to chufe;
The worm that draws a long immod❜rate fize
The trout abhors, and the rank morfel flies;
And if too fmall, the naked fraud's in fight,
And fear forbids, while hunger does invite.
Those baits will beft reward the fisher's pains,
Whofe polish'd tails a fhining yellow ftains:
Cleanse them from filth, to give a tempting glofs,
Cherish the fully'd reptile race with mofs;
Amid the verdant bed they twine, they toil,
And from their bodies wipe their native foil.
But when the fun difplays his glorious beams;.
And fhallow rivers flow with filver ftreams,
Then the deceit the fcaly breed furvey,
Bask in the fun, and look into the day.
You now a more delufive art must try,
And tempt their hunger with the curious fly.

To frame the little animal, provide

All the gay hues that wait on female pride,
Let nature guide thee; fometimes golden wire
The fhining bellies of the fly require;

The peacock's plumes thy tackle muft not fail,
Nor the dear purchase of the fable's tail.
Each gaudy bird fome flender tribute brings,
And lends the growing infect proper wings:
Silks of all colours muft their aid impart,
promote the fifher's art.
So the gay lady, with expenfive care,

And ev'ry

far

Borrows the pride of land, of fea, and air;

Furs, pearls, and plumes, the glitt'ring thing displays,
Dazles our eyes, and eafier hearts betrays.

Mark well the various feafons of the year,
How the fucceeding infect race appear;
In this revolving moon one colour reigns,
Which in the next the fickle trout difdains.
Oft have I feen a skilful angler try

The various colours of the treach'rous fly;
When he with fruitlefs pain hath fkim'd the brook,
And the coy fish rejects the fkipping hook,
He shakes the boughs that on the margin grow,
Which o'er the ftream a waving foreft throw;
When if an infect fall, (his certain guide)
He gently takes him from the whirling tide;
Examines well his form with curious eyes,
His gaudy veit, his wings, his horns and fize,
Then round his hook the chofen fur he winds,
And on the back a speckled feather binds,
So just the colours fhine through ev'ry part,
That nature feems to live again in art.
Let not thy wary step advance too near,
While all thy hope hangs on a fingle hair;
The new-form'd infect on the water moves,
The fpeckled trout the curious fnare approves ;
Upon the curling furface let it glide,
With natural motion from thy hand supply'd,
Against the stream now gently let it play,
Now in the rapid eddy roll away.

The fcaly fhoals float by, and feiz'd with fear
Behold their fellows toft in thinner air;

But foon they leap, and catch the fwimming bait,
Plunge on the hook, and share an equal fate.

When a brisk gale against the current blows,
And all the watry plain in wrinkles flows,
Then let the fisherman his art repeat,
Where bubbling eddies favour the deceit.
If an enormous falmon chance to spy
The wanton errors of the floating fly,
He lifts his filver gills above the flood,
And greedily fucks in th' unfaithful food;
Then downward plunges with the fraudful prey,
And bears with joy the little fpoil away.
Soon in smart pain he feels the dire mistake,
Lashes the wave and beats the foamy lake :
With fudden rage he now aloft
appears,
And in his eye convulfive anguish bears;
And now again, impatient of the wound,
He rolls and wreaths his fhining body round;
Then headlong shoots beneath the dashing tide,
The trembling fins the boiling wave divide.
Now hope exalts the fifher's beating heart,
Now he turns pale, and fears his dubious art;
He views the tumbling fifh with longing eyes,
While the line ftretches with th' unwieldy prize;
Each motion humours with his fteady hands,
And one flight hair the mighty bulk commands:
"Till tir'd at laft, defpoil'd of all his ftrength,
The game
athwart the stream unfolds his length.
He now, with pleasure, views the gasping prize
Gnath his fharp teeth, and roll his blood-fhot eyes;
Then draws him to the fhore with artful care,
And lifts his noftrils in the fickning air:
Upon the burden'd stream he floating lies,
Stretching his quivering fins, and gafping dies.

What he has given us on the other rural diverfions is altogether as natural, and beautiful as the preceding..

Nor lefs the fpaniel fkilful to betray,

Rewards the fowler with the feather'd prey.
Soon as the labouring horfe with fwelling veins,
Hath fafely hous'd the farmer's doubtful gains,

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