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Alien of birth, usurper of the plains!

“ Knit with three knots the fillets : knit them Begin with me, my fute, the sweet Mænalian strait; strains,

Then say, “ These knots to love I consecrate.' “Relentless love the cruel mother led, Haste, Amaryllis, haste !-Restore, ny charms, The blood of her unhappy babes to shed : My lovely Daphnis to my longing arms. Love lent the sword; the mother struck the “As fire this figure hardens, made of clay,

And this of war with fire consumes away; Inhuman she, but more inhuman thou :

Such let the soul of cruel Daphnis beAlien of birth, usurper of the plains !

Hard to the rest of women, soft to me. Begin with me, my fute, the sweet Mænalian Crumble the sacred mole of salt and corn : strains.

Next in the fire the bays with brimstone burn : “Old doting Nature, change thy course And, while it crackles in the sulphur, say,

''Tis I for Daphnis burn; thus Daphnis burn And let the trembling lamb the wolf pursue.

away! Let oaks now glitter with Hesperian fruit, This laurel is his fate.'-Restore, my charms, And purple daffodils from alder shoot :

My lovely Daphnis to my longing arms. Fat amber let the tamarisk distil,

"As when the raging heifer, through the And hooting owls contend with swans in skill;

grove, Hoarso Tityrus strive with Orpheus in the Stung with desire, pursues her wand'ring love ; woods,

Faint at the last, she seeks the weedy pools, And challenge fam'd Arion on the floods. To quench her thirst, and on the rushes rolls, Or, oh, let Nature cease, and Chaos reign! Careless of night, unmindful to return; Begin with me, my fute, the sweet Mænalian Such fruitless fires perfidious Daphnis burn. strain.

[tido While I so scorn his lovel-Restore, my charms, “Let earth be sea, and let the whelming My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms. The lifeless limbs of luckless Damon hide : " These garments once were his, and left to Farewell, ye secret woods and shady groves, me, Haunts of my youth, and conscious of my The pledges of his promis'd loyalty, loves!

Which underneath my threshold I bestow. From yon high cliff I plunge into the main : These pawns, O sacred earth! to me my Take the last present of thy dying swain :

Daphnis owe, And cease, my silent flute, the sweet Mænali- As these were his, so minc is he.-My charms, strain.

Restore their ling'ring lord to my deluded arms, Now take your turns, ye Muses, to rehearse These pois'nous plants, for magic use deHis friend's complaints, and mighty magic sign'd,

(The noblest and the best of all the baneful " Bring running water ; bind those altars round

kind) With fillets, and with vervain strew the ground: Old Mæris brought me from the Pontic strand, Make fat with frankincense the sacred fires, And cull'd the mischief of a bounteous land. 'To reinflame my Daphnis with desires. Smear'd with these powerful juices, on the plain, 'Tis done : we want but verse.-Restore, my He howls, a wolf among the hungry train; charms,

And oft the mighty necromancer boasts, My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms. With these, to call from tombs the stalking “Pale Phæbe, drawn by verse, from heav'n ghosts, descends;

And from the roots to tear the standing corn, And Circe chang'd with charms Ulysses' friends. Which, whirld alost, to distant fields is borne : Verse breaks the ground, and penetrates the Such is the strength of spell. Restore, my brake,

charms, And in the winding cavern splits the snake. My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms. Verse fires the frozen veins.-Restore, my * Bear out these ashes: cast them in the charms,

brook ; My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms. Cast backwards o'er your head ; nor turn your ** Around his waxen image first I wind

look: Three woollen fillets, of three colours join'd; Since neither gods nor godlike verse can move, Thrice bind about his thrice devoted head, Break out, ye smother'd fires, and kindle smoWhich round the sacred allar thrice is led.

ther'd love. Unequal numbers please the gods.- My charms, Exert your utmost pow'r, my ring charms; Restore my Daphnis to my longing arms. And force my Daphnis to my longing arms.



" See, while my last endeavours I delay, Who then should sing the nymphs ? or who reThe waking ashes rise, and round our altars hearse

The waters gliding in a smoother verse? Run to the threshold, Amaryllis—hark ! Of Amaryllis praise that heavenly lay, Our Hylax opens, and begins to bark.

That shorten'd, as we went, our tedious wayGood heav'n! may lovers what they wish be- O Tityrus, tend my herd, and see them fod; lieve?

(ceive? To morning pastures, ev’ning waters, led; Or dream their wishes, and those dreams de- And ’ware the Libyan ridgil's butting head.” No more! my Daphnis comes! no more, my

MERIS, charms!

[arms.” Or what unfinish'd he to Varus readHe comes, he runs, he leaps, to my desiring Thy name, O Varus, (if the kinder pow'rs

Preserve our plains, and shield the Mantuan


Obnoxious by Cremona's neighbouring crime) PASTORAL IX.

The wings of swans and stronger-pinion's

rhyme, OR,

Shall raise aloft, and soaring bear aboveLYCIDAS AND MERIS.

Th' immortal gift of gratitude to Jove."

When Virgil, by the favour of Augustus, had re. Sing on, sing on : for I can ne'er be cloy’d.

covered his patrimony near Mantua, and went in So may thy swarins the baleful yew avoid : hope to take possession, he was in danger to be

So may thy cows their burden'd bags distend, slain by Arius the centurion, to whom those lands were assigned by the emperor, in reward of his And trees to goats their willing branches bend. service against Brutus and Cassius. This pas. Mean as I am, yet have the Muses made toral therefore is filled with complaints of this

Me free, a member of the tuneful trade : hard usage ; and the persons introduced are the bailiff of Virgil, Meris, and his friend Lycidas. At least the shepherds seem to like my lays;

But I discern their flatt'ry from their praise : LYCIDAS.

I nor to Cinna's ears, nor Varus’, dare aspire, Ho, Meris! whither on thy way so fast? But gabble, like a goose amidst the swan-like This leads to town.




O Lycidas! at last 'Tis what I have been conning in my mind; The time is come, I never thought to sce, Nor are thy verses of a vulgar kind. (Strange revolutions for my farm and me!) “ Come, Galatea! come! the seas forsake? When the grim captain in a surly tone

What pleasures can the tides with their hoarse Cries out, « Pack up, ye rascals, and be gone." murmurs make? Kick'd out, we set the best face on't we could, See, on the shore inhabits purple spring; And these two kids, t'appease his angry mood, Where nightingales their love-sick ditty sing: I bear,-of which the Furies give him good! See, meads with purling streams, with flow'rs LYCIDAS.

the ground, Your country friends were told another tale- The grottoes cool with shady poplars crown'd, Tha: from the sloping mountain to the vale, And creeping vines on arbours weav'd around. And dodder'd oak, and all the

anks along,

Come then, and leave the waves' tumultuous Menalcas sav'd his fortune with a song.


Let the wild surges vainly beat the shore.” Such was the news, indeed; but songs and

LYCIDAS. rhymes

Or that sweet song I heard with such delight; Prevail as much in these hard iron times, The same you sung alone one starry night. As would a plump of trembling fowl, that rise The tune I still retain, but not the words. Against an eagle sousing from the skies. And had not Phæbus warn'd me, by the croak “Why, Daphnis, dost thou search in old reof an old raven from a hollow oak,

cords, To shun debate, Menalcas had been slain, To know the seasons when the stars arise ? And Mæris not surviv'd him, to complain. Soe, Cæsar's lamp is lighted in the skiesLYCIDAS.

The star, whose rays the blushing grapes adorny. Now heaven defend! could barbarous rage in- And swell the kindly rip’ning ears of corn. duce

(Muse ?

Under this influence grast the tender shoot ; he brutal son of Mars t'insult the sacred Thy children's children shall enjoy the fruit."




The rest I have forgot, for cares and time What lawns or woods withheld you from lis
Change all things, and untune my soul to rhyme. aid,
I could have once sung down a summer's sun : Ye nymphs, when Gallus was to love betray'd,
But now the chime of poetry is done :

To love, unpitied by the cruel maid ?
My voice grows hoarse, I feel the notes decay; Not steepy Pindus could retard your course,
As if the wolves had seen me first to-day. Nor clefi Parnassus, nor the Aonian source :
But these, and more than I to mind can bring, Nothing that owns the Muses, could suspend
Menalcas has not yet forgot to sing.

Your aid to Gallus :--Gallus is their friend,

For him the lofty laurel stands in tears, Thy faint excuses but inflame me more: And hung with 'humid pearls the lowly shrub And now the waves roll silent to the shore;

appears. Hush'd winds the topmost branches scarcely Menalian pines the godlike swain bemoan, bend,

When spread beneath a rock, he sigh'd alone; As if thy tuneful song they did attend :

And cold Lycæus wept from ev'ry dropping Already we have half our way o'ercome

stone. Far off I can discern Bianor's tomb,

The sheep suround their shepherd, as he lies. Here, where the lab'rer's hands have form'd a Blush not, sweet poet, nor the name despise : bow'r

Along the streams, bis flock Adonis fed ; of wreathing trees, in singing waste an hour. And yet the queen of beauty blest his bed. Rest here thy weary limbs; ihy kids lay down: The swains and tardy neatherds came, and last We've day before us yet to reach the lown Menalcas, wet with beating winter mast. Or if, ere night, the gathering clouds we fear, Wond'ring they ask'd from whence arose thy A song will help the beating storm to bear.

flame. And that thou mayst not be too late abroad, Yet more amaz'd, thy own Apollo came. Sing, and I'll case thy shoulders of thy load. Flush'd were his cheeks, and glowing were his

eyes: Cease to request me ; let us mind our way: “ Is she thy care? is she thy care ?” he cries, Another song requires another day.

" Thy false Lycoris flies thy love and thee, When good Menalcas comes, if he rejoice, And for thy rival tempts the raging sea, And find a friend at court, I'll find a voice, The forms of horrid war, and heav'n's incle





Gallus, a great patron of Virgil, and an excellent

poet, was very deeply in love with one Cytheris,
whom he calls Lycoris, and who had forsaken him
for the company of a soldier. The poet therefore
supposes his friend Gallus retired, in his height
of melancholy, into the solitudes of Arcadia, (the
celebrated scene of pastorals,) where he represents
him in a very languishing condition, with all the
rural deities about him, pitying his hard usage,
and condoling his misfortune.

Silvanus came : his brows a country crown
Of fennel, and of nodding lilies, drown.
Great Pan arriv'd, and we beheld him too,
His cheeks and temples of vermilion hue.
" Why, Gallus, this immod'rate grief ?” he

« Think'st thou that love with tears is satisfied ?
The meads are sooner drunk with morning

dews, The bees with flow'ry shrubs, the goats with


Thr sacred succour, Arethusa, bring,
To crown my labour, ('tis the last I sing,)
Which proud Lycoris may with pity view:
The muse is mournful, though the numbers few,
Refuse me not a verse, to grief and Gallus due.
So may thy silver streams beneath the tide,
Unmix'd with briny scas, securely glide.
Sing then my Gallus, and his hopeless vows;
Sing while my cattle crop the tender browze.
The vocal grove shall answer to the sound,
And ech from the vales, the tuneful voice re-


Unmov'd, and with dejected eyes, he mourn'd:
He paus'd, and then these broken words re

" ?Tis past; and pity gives me no relief :
But you, Arcadian swains, shall sing my grief,
And on your hills my last complaints renew:
So sad a song is only worthy you.
How light would lie the turf upon my breast,
If you my sufi*rings in your songs exprest!
Ah! that your birth and bus'ness had been

pen the sheep, and

press the swelling vine.
Had Phyllis or Amyntas caus'd my pain,
Or any nymph or shepherd on the plain,
(Tho' Phyllis bro tho' black Amyntas wore,
Are violets not sweet, because not fair ?)



Beneath the sallows and the shady vine, As if with sports my sufforings I should ease,
My loves had mix'd their pliant limbs with mine: Or by my pains the god of love appease.
Phyllis with myrtle wreaths had crown'd my My frenzy changes : I delight no more

On mountain tops to chase the lusky boar : And soft Amyntas sung away my care.

game but hopeless love my thoughts pursue : Come, see what pleasures in our plains abound; Once more, ye nymphs, and songs, and soundThe woods, the fountains, and the fow'ry ing woods, adieu ! ground,

Love alters not for us his hard decrees, As you are beauteous, were you half so true, Not though beneath the Thracian clime we Here could I live, and love, and die with only freeze, you.

Or Italy's indulgent heav'n forego, Now I to fighting fields am sent afar,

And in mid-winter tread Sithonian snow; And strive in winter camps with toils of war; Or, when the barks of elms are scorch'd, we While you, (alas, that I should find it so!)

keep To shun my sight your native soil forego, On Meroe's burning plains the Libyan sheep. And climb the frozen Alps, and tread th' eternal In hell, and earth, and seas, and heav'n above,

Love conquers all; and we must yield to love." Ye frosts and snows, her tender body spare ! My Muses, here your sacred raptures end : * Those are not limbs for icicles to tear.

T'he verse was what I ow'd my suff"ring friend. For me, the wilds and deserts are my choice; This while I sung, my sorrows I deceiv'd, The Muses once my care, my once harmonious And bending osiers into baskets weav'd. voice.

The song, because inspir'd by you, shall shine; There will I sing, forsaken and alone :

And Gallus will approve, because 'tis mineThe rocks and hollow caves shall echo to my Gallus, for whom my holy fames renew,

Each hour, and ev'ry moment rise in view: The rind of ev'ry plant her name shall know; As alders, in the spring, their boles extend, And, as the rind extends, the love shall grow. And heave so fiercely, that the bark they rend, Then on Arcadian mountains will I chase Now let us rise : for hoarseness oft invades (Mix'd with the woodland nymphs) the savage The singer's voice, who sings beneath the

shades. Nor cold shall hinder me, with horns and hounds From juniper unwholsome dews distil, To tread the thickets, or to leap the mounds. That blast the sooly corn, the withering herbage And now methinks o'er steepy rocks I go,

kill. And rush through sounding woods, and bend the Away, my goats, away! for you have brows'd

Parthian bow;



your fill.



The poet, in the beginning of this book, propounds

the general design of each Georgic: and, after a
solemn invocation of all the gods who are any way
related to his subject, he addresses himself in par-
ticular to Augustus, whom he compliments with
divinity; and after strikes into his business. He
shows the different kinds of tillage proper to differ.
ent soils, traces out the orignal of agriculture,
gives a catalogue of the husbandman's tools, spe.
cifies the employments peculiar to each season,
describes the changes of the wealher, with the
signs in heryen and earth that forebode them; in.
stences many of the prodigies that happened near
the time of Julius Cesar's death; and shuis up
all with supplication to the gods for the safety

of Augustus, and the preservation of Rome. What makes a plonieous harvest, when to turn "The fruitful soil, and when to sow the corn;

The care of sheep, of oxen, and of kine;
And how to raise on elms the teeming vine;
The birth and genius of the frugal bee,
I sing, Mecenas, and I sing to thee.

Ye deities ! who fields and plains protect,
Who rule the seasons, and the year direct,
Bacchus and fost'ring Ceres, pow'rs divine,
Who gave us corn for mast, for water, wine
Ye Fauns, propitious to the rural swains,
Ye nymphs that haunt the mountains and the

Join in my work, and to my numbers bring
Your needful succour; for your gifts I sing.
And thou, whose trident struck the teeming

And made a passage for the courser's birth;

And thou, for whom the Cean shore sustains E'en in this early dawning of the year,
The milky herds, that graze the flow'ry plains ; Produce the plough, and yoke the sturdy steer,
And thou, the shepherd.' tutelary god,

And goad him till he groans beneath his toil, Leave, for a while, O Pan, thy lov'd de; Till the bright share is buried in the soil. And, if Arcadian fleeces be thy care,

That crop rewards the greedy peasant's pains, From fields and mountains to my song repair. Which twice the sun, and twice the cold sus. Inventor, Pallas, of the fatt'ıing oil,

tains, Thou founder of the plough and ploughman's And bursts the crowded barns with more than toil :

promis'd gains. And thou, whose hands the shroud-like cy. But, ere we stir the yet unbroken ground, press rear;

The various course of seasons must be found; Come, all ye gods and goddesses, that wear The weather and the setting of the winds, The rural honours, and increase the year; The culture suiting to the sev'ral kinds You, who supply the ground with seeds of Of seeds and plants, and what will thrive and grain;

(rain; rise, And you, who swell those seeds with kindly And what the genius of the soil denies. And chiefly thou, whose undetermin'd stale This ground with Bacchus, that with Ceres, Is yet the bus'ness of the gods, debate,

suits : Whether in after-times, to be declar'd,

That other loads the trees with happy fruits : The patron of the world, and Rome's peculiar A fourth, with grass unbidden, decks the ground. guard.

Thus Tmolus is with yellow saffron crown'd: Or o'er the fruits and seasons to preside, India black ebon and white iv'ry bears ; And the round circuit of the year to guide And soft Idume weeps her od'rous tears. Pow'rful of blessings, which thou strew'st around. Thus Pontus sends her beaver stones from far, And with thy goddess mother's myrtle crown'd. And naked Spaniards temper steel for war: Or wilt thou, Cæsar, choose the wat’ry reign Epirus, for th’ Elean chariot, breeds To smooth the surges and correct the main ? (In hopes of palms) a race of running steeds. Then mariners, in storms, to thee shall pray; This is th' orig'nal contract; these the laws E'en utmost Thule shall thy pow'r obey; Impos'd by Nature, and by Nature's cause, And Neptune shall resign the fasces of the sea. Op sundry places, when Deucalion hurl'd The wai’ry virgins for thy bed shall strive, His mother's entrails on the desert world; And Tethys all her waves in dowry give. Whence men, a hard laborious kind, were born, Or wilt thou bless our summers with thy rays, Then borrow part of winter for thy corn ; And, seated near the Balance, poise the days And early, with thy team, the glebe in furrows Where, in the void of heav'n, a space is free,

turn; Betwixt the Scorpion and the Maid for thee? That, while the turf lies open and unbound, The Scorpion, ready to receive thy laws, Succeeding suns may bake the mellow ground. Yields half his region, and contracts his claws. But, if the soil be barren, only scar Whatever part of heav'n thou shall obtain, The surface, and but lgbuy print the share, (For let not hell presume of such a reign ; When cold Arcturus rises with the sun : Nor let so dire a thirst of empire move

Lest wicked weeds the corn should overrun Thy mind, to leave thy kindred gods above ; In wal’ry soils ; or lest the barren sand Though Greece admires Elysiuin's blest re Should suck the moisture from the thirsty land. treat,

Both these unhappy soils the swain forbears, Though Proserpine affects her silent seat, And keeps a sabbath of alternate years, And, importuu'il by Ceres to remove,

That the spent earth may gather heart again, Prefers the hells below to those above)

And, better'd by cessation, bear the grain. Be thou propitious, Cæsar! guide my course, At least where vetches, pulse, and tares, have And to my bold endeavours add thy force :

stood, Pity the poet's and the ploughman's cares; And stalks of lupines grew (a stubborn wood, Int'rest thy greatness in our mean affairs, Th' ensuing season, in return, may bear And use thyself betimes to hear and grant our The bearded product of the golden year: pray'rs.

For flax and oats will burn the tender field, While yet the spring is young, while earth And sleepy poppies harmful harvest yield. unbinds

But sweet vicissitudes of rest and toil Her frozen bosom to the western winds ; Make easy labour and renew the soil, While mountain snows dissolve against the sun, Yet sprinkle sordid ashes all around, And streams, yet new, from precipices run; And load with fatl’ning dung the fallow ground.

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