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 thou wert bred, And at the dugs of savage tigers fed;

Alien of birth, usurper of the plains!

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

"Relentless love the cruel mother led,

The blood of her unhappy babes to shed:

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Love lent the sword; the mother struck the blow;

Inhuman she, but more inhuman thou:

Alien of birth, usurper of the plains!

Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Manalian strains.

"Old doting Nature, change thy course anew;

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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;

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Hoarse Tityrus strive with Orpheus in the woods,

And challenge fam'd Arion on the floods.

Or, Oh,let Nature cease, and Chaos reign!

Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian strain. "Let earth be sea, and let the whelming tide

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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 Mænalian
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 strow the ground:

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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;
Thrice bind about his thrice devoted head,
Which round the sacred altar thrice is led.
Unequal numbers please the gods. My charms,
Restore iny Daphnis to my longing arms.

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"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.

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"As fire this figure hardens, made of clay,
And this of wax with fire consumes away;
Such let the soul of cruel Daphnis be-
Hard to the rest of women, soft to me.

Crumble the sacred mole of salt and corn:

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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.

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"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.

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While I so scom 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.

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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 design'd, 135
(The noblest and the best of all the baneful kind)
Old Maris brought me from the ontic strand,
And cull'd the mischief of a bounteous land.
Smear'd with these powerful juices, on the plain,
He howls, a wolf an ong 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 spells

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Restore, my charms, 145 My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms.

"Bear out these ashes: cast them in the brook; Cast backwards o'er your head. nor turn your look: Since neither gods nor godlike verse can move,

Break out, ye smother'd fires, and kindle smother'd love.
Exert your utmost pow'r, my ling'ring charms;
And force my Daphnis to my longing arms.

"See, while my last endeavours I delay,

The waking ashes rise, and round our altars play!
Run to the threshold, Ainaryllis - hark!
Our Hylax opens, and begins to bark.

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Good heav'n! may lovers what they wish believe?
Or dream their wishes, and those dreams deceive?
No more! my Daphnis comes! no more, my charms!
He comes, he runs, he leaps, to my desiring arms." 160

When Virgil, by the favour of Augustus, had recovered his patrimony near Mantua, and went in hope to take possession, he was in danger to be slain by Arius the centurion, to whom those lands were assigned by the emperor, in reward of his service against Brutus and Cassius. This pastoral therefore is filled with complaints of this hard usage; and the persons introduced are the bailiff of Virgil, Mœris, and his friend Lycidas.

LYCIDAS.

Ho, Maris! whither on thy way so fast?

This leads to town.

MORRIS.

O Lycidas! at last
The time is come, I never thought to see,
(Strange revolution for my farm and me!
When the grim captain in a surly tone
Cries out, "Pack up, ye rascals, and be gone."
Kick'd out, we set the best face on't we could;
And these two kids, t' appease his angry mood,
I bear,-of which the Furies give him good!

LYCIDAS.

Your country friends were told another tale-
That from the sloping mountain to the vale,

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And dodder'd oak, and all the banks along,
Menalcas sav'd his fortune with a song.

MORIS.

Such was the news, indeed; but songs and rhymes 15
Prevail as much in these hard iron times,

As would a plump of trembling fowl, that rise
Against an eagle sousing from the skies.

And had not Phœbus warn'd me, by the croak
Of an old raven from a hollow oak,
To shun debate, Menalcas had been slain,
And Moris not survived him, to complain.

LYCIDAS.

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Now heaven defend! could barbarous rage induce
The brutal son of Mars t' insult the sacred Muse?
Who then should sing the nymphs? or who rehearse 25
The waters gliding in a smoother verse?

Of Amaryllis praise that heavenly lay,
That shorten'd, as we went, our tedious way-
"O Tityrus, tend my herd, and see them fed;
To morning pastures, ev'ning waters, led;
And 'ware the Libyan ridgil's butting head."

MORIS.

Or what unfinish'd he to Varus read

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"Thy name, O Varus, (if the kinder pow'rs

Preserve our plains, and shield the Mantuan tow'rs,

Obnoxious by Cremona's neighbouring crime)

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The wings of swans and stronger-pinion'd rhyme,

Shall raise aloft, and soaring bear above-
Th' immortal gift of gratitude to Jove."

LYCIDAS.

Sing on, sing on: for I can ne'er be cloy'd.
So may thy swarms the baleful yew avoid:
So may thy cows their burden'd bags distend,
And trees to goats their willing branches bend.

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