O lovely Galatea, whiter far Than falling snows, and rising lilies are; More flow'ry than the meads, as crystal bright; Erect as alders, and of equal height: More wanton than a kid; more sleek thy skin, Than orient shells, that on the shores are seen: Than apples fairer,when the boughs they lade; Pleasing, as winter suns, or summer shade : More grateful to the sight than goodly plains; And softer to the touch than down of swans, Or curds new turn'd; and sweeter to the taste Than swelling grapes, that to the vintage haste: More clear than ice, or running streams, that stray [they. Through garden plots, but ah! more swift than Yet, Galatea, harder to be broke Than bullocks, unreclaim'd to bear the yoke: And far more stubborn than the knotted oak: Like sliding streams, impossible to hold; Like them fallacious; like their fountains, cold: More warping than the willow, to decline My warm embrace; more brittle than the vine; Immovable, and fix'd in thy disdain : Rough, as these rocks, and of a harder grain; More violent than is the rising flood: And the prais'd peacock is not half so proud: Fierce as the fire, and sharp as thistles are; And more outrageous than a mother bear Deaf as the billows to the vows I make ; And more revengeful than a trodden snake: In swiftness fleeter than the flying hind, Or driven tempests, or the driving wind. All other faults with patience I can bear; But swiftness is the vice I only fear.

Yet, if you knew me well, you would not shun My love, but to my wish'd embraces run: Would languish in your turn, and court my stay And much repent of your unwise delay.

My palace, in the living rock, is made By nature's hand; a spacious pleasing shade; Which neither heat can pierce, nor cold invade. My garden fill'd with fruits you may behold, And grapes in clusters, imitating gold; Some blushing bunches of a purple hue: And these, and those, are all reserv'd for you. Red strawberries in shades expecting stand, Proud to be gather'd by so white a hand Autumnal cornels latter fruit provide And plums, to tempt you, turn their glossy side: Not those of common kinds; but such alone As in Phæacian orchards might have grown: Nor chestnuts shall be wanting to your food, Nor garden fruits, nor wildings of the wood; The laden boughs for you alone shall bear And yours shall be the product of the year. The flocks, you see, are all my own; beside The rest that woods and winding valleys hide; And those that folded in the caves abide.

Ask not the numbers of my growing store,
Who knows how many, knows he has no more,
Nor will I praise my cattle; trust not me,
But judge yourself, and pass your own decree :
Behold their swelling dugs; the sweepy weight
Of ewes, that sink beneath the milky freight;
In the warm folds their tender lambkins lie;
Apart from kids, that call with human cry.
New milk in nut-brown bowls is duly serv'd
For daily drink; the rest for cheese reserv'd.
Nor are these household dainties all my store
The fields and forests will afford us more;
The deer, the hare, the goat, the savage boar.
All sorts of venison; and of birds the best;
A pair of turtles taken from the nest.
I walk'd the mountains, and two cubs I found,
Whose dam had left 'em on the naked ground;
So like, that no distinction could be seen;
So pretty, they were presents for a queen;
And so they shall; took them both away;
And keep, to be companions of your play.

Oh raise, fair nymph, your beautous face above

The waves; nor scorn my presents, and my love.

Come, Galatea, come, and view my face
I late beheld it in the watery glass,
And found it lovelier than I fear'd it was
Survey my towering stature, and my size:
Net Jove, the Jove you dream, that rules the
skies,

Bears such a bulk, or is so largely spread:
My locks (the plenteous harvest of my head)
Hang o'er my manly face; and dangling down,
As with a shady grove, my shoulders crown.
Nor think because my limbs and body bear
A thickset underwood of bristling hair,
My shape deform'd: what fouler sight can be,
Than the bald branches of a leafless tree?
Foul is the steed without a flowing mane;
And birds without their feathers, and their train.
Wool decks the sheep; and man receives a

grace

From bushy limbs, and from a bearded face.
My forehead with a single eye is fill'd,
Round as a ball and ample as a shield.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the radiant sun,
Is Nature's eye; and she's content with one.
Add, that my father sways your seas, and I,
Like you, am of the wat❜ry family.

I make you his, in making you my own;
You I adore, and kneel to you alone:
Jove, with his fabled thunder, I despise,
And only fear the lightning of your eyes;
Frown not, fair nymph; yet I could bear to be
Disdain'd, if others were disdain'd with me.
But to repulse the Cyclops, and prefer
The love of Acis, heav'ns! I cannot bear.

He said; and sleep forsook him, and the gad. Trembling he wak'd, and rose with anxious heart;

His country laws forbad him to depart:
What should he do? 'T was death to go away,
And the god menac'd if he dar'd to stay:
All day he doubted, and, when night came on,
Sleep, and the same forewarning dream begun:
Once more the god stood threat'ning o'er his
head;

With added curses if he disobey'd.

Twice warn'd, he studied flight; but would

convey,

At once, his person and his wealth away.
Thus while he linger'd, his design was heard;
A speedy process form'd, and death declar'd.
Witness there needed none of his offence,
Against himself the wretch was evidence:
Condemn'd, and destitute of human aid,
To him, for whom he suffer'd, thus he pray'd.
O power, who hast deserv'd in heaven a
throne,

Not given, but by thy labours made thy owu,
Pity thy suppliant, and protect his cause,
Whom thou hast made obnoxious to the laws.
A custom was of old, and still remains,
Which life or death by suffrages ordains
White stones and black within an urn are cast,
The first absolve, but fate is in the last.
The judges to the common urn bequeath
Their votes, and drop the sable signs of death;
The box receives all black; but pour'd from
thence
[cence.
The stones caine candid forth, the hue of inno-
Thus Alimonides his safety won,
Preserv'd from death by Alcumena's son:
Then to his kinsman god his vows he pays,
And cuts with prosp'rous gales th' Ionian seas:
He leaves Tarentum, favour'd by the wind,
And Thurine bays, and Temises, behind;
Soft Siberis, and all the capes that stand
Along the shore, he makes in sight of land;
Still doubling, and still coasting, till he found
The mouth of Esaris, and promis'd ground:
Then saw where, on the margin of the flood,
The tomb that held the bones of Croton stood:
Here, by the god's command, he built and wall'd
The place predicted; and Crotona call'd:
Thus fame, from time to time, delivers down
The sure tradition of th' Italian town.

Here dwelt the man divine whom Samos bore,
But now self-banish'd from his native shore,
Because he hated tyrants, nor could bear
The chains which none but servile souls will

And penetrate, with his interior light, [sight:
Those upper depths, which Nature hid from
And what he had observ'd, and learnt from
Lov'd in familiar language to dispense. [thence,
The crowd with silent admiration stand,
And heard him, as they heard their god's com-
mand;
[laws,
While he discours'd of heaven's mysterious
The world's original, and nature's cause;
And what was God, and why the fleecy snows
In silence fell, and rattling winds arose ; [begun
What shook the steadfast earth, and whence
The dance of planets round the radiant sun;
If thunder was the voice of angry Jove
Or clouds, with nitre pregnant, burst above:
Of these, and things beyond the common reach,
He spoke, and charm'd his audience with his
speech.

He first the taste of flesh from tables drove,
And argued well, if arguments could move.
O mortals! from your fellows' blood abstain,
Nor taint your bodies with a food profane:
While corn and pulse by nature are bestow'd,
And planted orchards bend their willing load;
While labour'd gardens wholesome herbs pro-
duce,

And teeming vines afford their generous juice;
Nor tardier fruits of cruder kind are lost,
But tam'd with fire, or mellow'd by the frost;
While kine to pails distended udders bring,
And bees their honey redolent of spring;
While earth not only can your needs supply
But, lavish of her store, provides for luxury;
A guiltless feast administers with ease,
And without blood is prodigal to please.
Wild beasts their maws with their slain brethren
And yet not all, for some refuse to kill :
Sheep, goats, and oxen, and the noble steed,
On browse, and corn, the flowery meadows feed.
Bears, tigers, wolves, the lion's angry brood,
Whom heaven endu'd with principles of blood,
He wisely sunder'd from the rest, to yell
In forests, and in lonely caves to dwell, [might,
Where stronger beasts oppress the weak by
And all in prey and purple feasts delight.

[fill,

O impious use! to Nature's laws oppos'd, Where bowels are in other bowels clos'd: Where, fatten'd by their fellow's fat, they thrive; Maintain'd by murder, and by death they live. 'Tis then for naught that mother earth provides The stores of all she shows, and all she hides, If men with fleshly morsels must be fed, And chaw with bloody teeth the breathing

bread.

What else is this but to devour our guests
And barbarously renew Cyclopean feasts!
We, by destroying life, cur life sustain,
And gorge th' ungodly maw with meats obscene,

Then birds in airy space might safely move.
And timorous hares on heaths securely rove;
Nor needed fish the guileful hooks to fear,
For all was peaceful, and that peace sincere.
Whoever was the wretch (and curs'd be he)
That envied first our food's simplicity;
Th' essay of bloody feasts on brutes began,
And after forg'd the sword to murder man.
Had he the sharpen'd steel alone employ'd
On beasts of prey that other beasts destroy'd,
Or men invaded with their fangs and paws,
This had been justified by Nature's laws,
And self-defence; but who did feasts begin
Of flesh, he stretch'd necessity to sin.
To kill man-killers, man has lawful power,
But not th' extended license, to devour.

Ill habits gather by unseen degrees,
As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
The sow, with her broad snout for rooting up
Th' intrusted seed, was judg'd to spoil the crop,
And intercept the sweating farmer's hope:
The covetous churl, of unforgiving kind,
Th' offender to the bloody priest resign'd:
Her hunger was no plea; for that she died.
The goat came next in order, to be tried:
The goat had cropt the tendrils of the vine:
In vengeance laity and clergy join,
Where one has lost his profit, one his wine.
Here was, at least, some shadow of offence:
The sheep was sacrific'd on no pretence,
But meek and unresisting innocence.
A patient, useful creature, born to bear
The warm and woolly fleece, that cloth'd her
murderer,

And daily to give down the milk she bred,
A tribute for the grass on which she fed.
Living, both food and raiment she supplies,
And is of least advantage when she dies.

How did the toiling ox his death deserve, A downright simple drudge, and born to serve? O tyrant with what justice canst thou hope The promise of the year, a plenteous crop When thou destroy'st thy lab'ring steer, who till'd, [field? And plough'd with pains, thy else ungrateful From his yet reeking neck to draw the yoke, (That neck with which the surly clods he broke,)

And to the hatchet yield thy husbandman,
Who finish'd autumn, and the spring began!
Nor this alone! but, heaven itself to bribe,
We to the gods our impious acts ascribe :
First recompense with death their creatures'
toil,

Then call the bless'd above to share the spoil;

From whence, O mortal men, this gust of blood

Have you deriv'd, and interdicted food?
Be taught by me this dire delight to shun,
Warn'd by my precepts, by my practice won:
And when you eat the well deserving beast,
Think, on the labourer of your field you feast!

Now since the god inspires me to proceed,
Be that, whate'er inspiring power, obey'd.
For I will sing of mighty mysteries,
Of truths conceal'd before from human eyes,
Dark oracles unveil, and open all the skies.
Pleas'd as I am to walk along the sphere
Of shining stars, and travel with the year,
To leave the heavy earth, and scale the height
Of Atlas, who supports the heavenly weight:
To look from upper light, and then survey
Mistaken mortals wandering from the way,
And, wanting wisdom, fearful for the state
Of future things, and trembling at their fate;
Those I would teach; and by right reason

bring

To think of death, as but an idle thing.
Why thus affrighted at an empty name
A dream of darkness, and fictitious flame?
Vain themes of wit, which but in poems pass,
And fables of a world, that never was!
What feels the body when the soul expires,
By time corrupted, or consum'd by fires?
Nor dies the spirit, but new life repeats
In other forms, and only changes seats.

E'en I, who these mysterious truths declare.
Was once Euphorbus in the Trojan war;
My name and lineage I remember well,
And how in fight by Sparta's king I fell.
In Argive Juno's fane I late beheld
My buckler hung on high, and own'd my former
shield.

Then death, so call'd is but old matter
dress'd

In some new figure, and a varied vest:
Thus all things are but alter'd, nothing dies;
And here and there th' unbodied spirit flies,

By time, or force, or sickness dispossest,
And lodges, where it lights, in man or beast;
Or hunts without, till ready limbs it find,
And actuates those according to their kind;
From tenement to tenement is toss'd;
The soul is still the same, the figure only lost:
And as the soften'd wax new seals receives,
This face assumes, and that impression leaves;
Now call'd by one, now by another name;
The form is only chang'd, the wax is still the

same:

So death, so call'd, can but the form deface,
Th' immortal soul flies out in empty space;
To seek her fortune in some other place.

Then let not piety be put to flight,
To please the taste of glutton appetite
But suffer inmate souls secure to dwell,
Lest from their seats your parents you expel;
With rabid hunger feed upon your kind,
Or from a beast dislodge a brother's mind.

And since,like Typhis,parting from the shore, In ample seas I sail, and depths untried before, This let me further add, that nature knows No steadfast station, but, or ebbs, or flows: Ever in motion; she destroys her old, And casts new figures in another mould. E'en times are in perpetual flux; and run, Like rivers from their fountain, rolling on; For time, no more than streams, is at a stay : The flying hour is ever on her way; And as the fountain still supplies her store, The wave behind impels the wave before; Thus in successive course the minutes run, And urge their predecessor minutes on, Still moving, ever new: for former things Are set aside, like abdicated kings: And every moment alters what is done, And innovates some act till then unknown. Darkness we see emerges into light, And shining suns descend to sable night; E'en heaven itself receives another die, When wearied animals in slumbers lie Of midnight ease; another, when the Of morn preludes the splendour of the day. The disk of Phoebus, when he climbs on high Appears at first but as a bloodshot eye; And when his chariot downward drives to bed, His ball is with the same suffusion red; But mounted high in his meridian race All bright he shines, and with a better face: For there, pure particles of ether flow, Far from th' infection of the world below. Nor equal light th' unequal moon adorns, Or in her waxing, or her waning horns.

gray

• In ample seas I sail, and depths untried before] Pythagoras, it is said, wrote a poem on the universe, in hexameter verses mentioned by Diog. Laertius. 8. 7. Dr. J. W.

For ev'ry day she wanes, her face is less,
But gath'ring into globe, she fattens at increase.
Perceiv'st thou not the process of the year,
How the four seasons in four forms appear,
Resembling human life in ev'ry shape they
wear?

Spring first, like infancy, shoots out her head,
With milky juice requiring to be fed:
Helpless, though fresh, and wanting to be led.
The green stem grows in stature and in size,
But only feeds with hope the farmer's eyes;
Then laughs the childish year with flowerets
crown'd,

And lavishly perfumes the fields around,
But no substantial nourishment receives,
Infirm the stalks, unsolid are the leaves.

Proceeding onward whence the year began,
The summer grows adult, and ripens into man.
This season, as in men, is most replete
With kindly moisture, and prolific heat.

Autumn succeeds, a sober tepid age, Not froze with fear, nor boiling into rage; More than mature, and tending to decay, When our brown locks repine to mix with odious gray.

Last, Winter creeps along with tardy pace, Sour is his front, and furrow'd is his face. His scalp if not dishonour'd quite of hair, [bare. The ragged fleece is thin, and thin is worse than

E'en our own bodies daily change receive,
Some part of what was theirs before they leave;
Nor are to-day what yesterday they were:
Nor the whole sanie to-morrow will appear.
Time was,
when we were sow'd, and jus
began,
[man;
From some few fruitful drops, the promise of a
Then Nature's hand (fermented as it was)
Moulded to shape the soft, coagulated mass;
And when the little man was fully form'd,
The breathless embryo with a spirit warm'd,
But when the mother's throes begin to come,
The creature, pent within the narrow room,
Breaks his blind prison, pushing to repair
His stifled breath, and draw the living air,
Cast on the margin of the world he lies,
A helpless babe, but by instinct he cries.
He next essays to walk, but, downward p-css'd,
On four feet imitates his brother beast:
By slow degrees he gathers from the ground
His legs, and to the rolling chair is bound;
Then walks alone; a horseman now becc...e
He rides a stick, and travels round the room;
In time he vaunts among his youthful peers,
Strong-bon'd, and strung with nerves, in pride
of years,

He runs with mettle his first merry stage,
Maintains the next, abated of his rage,
But manages his strength, and spares his age.