Part 29

To the dear mistress of my love-sick mind, Her swain a pretty present has designed: I saw two stock-doves billing, and ere long Will take the nest, and hers shall be the young.

MENALCAS.

Ten ruddy wildings in the wood I found, And stood on tip-toes, reaching from the ground: I sent Amyntas all my present store; And will, to-morrow, send as many more.

The lovely maid lay panting in my arms, And all she said and did was full of charms. Winds! on your wings to heaven her accents bear; Such words as heaven alone is fit to hear.

MENALCAS.

Ah! what avails it me, my love's delight, To call you mine, when absent from my sight? I hold the nets, while you pursue the prey, And must not share the dangers of the day.

DAMOETAS.

I keep my birth-day; send my Phyllis home; At shearing-time, Iolas, you may come.

MENALCAS.

With Phyllis I am more in grace than you; } Her sorrow did my parting steps pursue: } "Adieu, my dear!" she said, "a long adieu!" }

DAMOETAS.

The nightly wolf is baneful to the fold, Storms to the wheat, to buds the bitter cold; But, from my frowning fair, more ills I find, Than from the wolves, and storms, and winter-wind.

MENALCAS.

The kids with pleasure browze the bushy plain; The showers are grateful to the swelling grain; To teeming ewes the sallow's tender tree; But, more than all the world, my love to me.

DAMOETAS.

Pollio my rural verse vouchsafes to read: A heifer, Muses, for your patron breed.

MENALCAS.

My Pollio writes himself:--a bull be bred, With spurning heels, and with a butting head.

DAMOETAS.

Who Pollio loves, and who his Muse admires, Let Pollio's fortune crown his full desires. Let myrrh instead of thorn his fences fill, And showers of honey from his oaks distil.

MENALCAS.

Who hates not living Bavius, let him be (Dead Mævius!) damn'd to love thy works and thee! The same ill taste of sense would serve to join Dog-foxes in the yoke, and shear the swine.

DAMOETAS.

Ye boys, who pluck the flowers, and spoil the spring, Beware the secret snake that shoots a sting.

MENALCAS.

Graze not too near the banks, my jolly sheep; The ground is false, the running streams are deep: See, they have caught the father of the flock, Who dries his fleece upon the neighbouring rock.

DAMOETAS.

From rivers drive the kids, and sling your hook; Anon I'll wash them in the shallow brook.

MENALCAS.

To fold, my flock!--when milk is dried with heat, In vain the milkmaid tugs an empty teat.

DAMOETAS.

How lank my bulls from plenteous pasture come! But love, that drains the herd, destroys the groom.

MENALCAS.

My flocks are free from love, yet look so thin, Their bones are barely covered with their skin. What magic has bewitched the woolly dams, And what ill eyes beheld the tender lambs?

DAMOETAS.

Say, where the round of heaven, which all contains, } To three short ells on earth our sight restrains: } Tell that, and rise a Phoebus for thy pains. }

MENALCAS.

Nay, tell me first, in what new region springs A flower, that bears inscribed the names of kings; And thou shalt gain a present as divine As Phoebus' self; for Phyllis shall be thine.

PALÆMON.

So nice a difference in your singing lies, That both have won, or both deserved the prize. Rest equal happy both; and all who prove The bitter sweets, and pleasing pains, of love. Now dam the ditches, and the floods restrain; Their moisture has already drenched the plain.

FOOTNOTES:

[297] Phoebus, not Pan, is here called the god of shepherds. The poet alludes to the same story which he touches in the beginning of the Second Georgic, where he calls Phoebus the Amphrysian shepherd, because he fed the sheep and oxen of Admetus, with whom he was in love, on the hill Amphrysus.

PASTORAL IV.

OR,

_POLLIO_.

ARGUMENT.

_The Poet celebrates the birth-day of Saloninus, the son of Pollio, born in the consulship of his father, after the taking of Salonæ, a city in Dalmatia. Many of the verses are translated from one of the Sibyls, who prophesied of our Saviour's birth._

Sicilian Muse, begin a loftier strain! Though lowly shrubs, and trees that shade the plain, Delight not all; Sicilian Muse, prepare To make the vocal woods deserve a consul's care. The last great age, foretold by sacred rhymes, Renews its finished course: Saturnian times Roll round again; and mighty years, begun From their first orb, in radiant circles run. The base degenerate iron offspring ends; A golden progeny from heaven descends. O chaste Lucina! speed the mother's pains; And haste the glorious birth! thy own Apollo reigns! The lovely boy, with his auspicious face, } Shall Pollio's consulship and triumph grace; } Majestic months set out with him to their appointed race. } The father banished virtue shall restore, And crimes shall threat the guilty world no more. The son shall lead the life of gods, and be By gods and heroes seen, and gods and heroes see. The jarring nations he in peace shall bind, And with paternal virtues rule mankind. Unbidden earth shall wreathing ivy bring, } And fragrant herbs, (the promises of spring,) } As her first offerings to her infant king. } The goats with strutting dugs shall homeward speed, And lowing herds secure from lions feed. His cradle shall with rising flowers be crowned: The serpent's brood shall die; the sacred ground Shall weeds and poisonous plants refuse to bear; Each common bush shall Syrian roses wear. But when heroic verse his youth shall raise, And form it to hereditary praise, Unlaboured harvests shall the fields adorn, And clustered grapes shall blush on every thorn; The knotted oaks shall showers of honey weep; And through the matted grass the liquid gold shall creep. Yet, of old fraud some footsteps shall remain; The merchant still shall plough the deep for gain, Great cities shall with walls be compassed round, And sharpened shares shall vex the fruitful ground; Another Tiphys shall new seas explore; Another Argo land the chiefs upon the Iberian shore; Another Helen other wars create, And great Achilles urge the Trojan fate. But when to ripened manhood he shall grow, The greedy sailor shall the seas forego; No keel shall cut the waves for foreign ware, For every soil shall every product bear. The labouring hind his oxen shall disjoin; } No plough shall hurt the glebe, no pruning-hook the vine; } Nor wool shall in dissembled colours shine; } But the luxurious father of the fold, With native purple, and unborrowed gold, Beneath his pompous fleece shall proudly sweat; And under Tyrian robes the lamb shall bleat. The Fates, when they this happy web have spun, Shall bless the sacred clue, and bid it smoothly run. Mature in years, to ready honours move, O of celestial seed! O foster-son of Jove! See, labouring Nature calls thee to sustain The nodding frame of heaven, and earth, and main! See to their base restored, earth, seas, and air; And joyful ages, from behind, in crowding ranks appear. To sing thy praise, would heaven my breath prolong, Infusing spirits worthy such a song, Not Thracian Orpheus should transcend my lays, Nor Linus crowned with never-fading bays; Though each his heavenly parent should inspire; The Muse instruct the voice, and Phoebus tune the lyre. Should Pan contend in verse, and thou my theme, Arcadian judges should their god condemn. Begin, auspicious boy! to cast about Thy infant eyes, and, with a smile, thy mother single out.[298] Thy mother well deserves that short delight, The nauseous qualms of ten long months and travail to requite. Then smile! the frowning infant's doom is read; No god shall crown the board, nor goddess bless the bed.

FOOTNOTES:

[298] In Latin thus,

_Incipe, parve puer, risu cognoscere matrem_, &c.

I have translated the passage to this sense--that the infant, smiling on his mother, singles her out from the rest of the company about him. Erythræus, Bembus, and Joseph Scaliger, are of this opinion. Yet they and I may be mistaken; for, immediately after, we find these words, _cui non risere parentes_, which imply another sense, as if the parents smiled on the new-born infant; and that the babe on whom they vouchsafed not to smile, was born to ill fortune: for they tell a story, that, when Vulcan, the only son of Jupiter and Juno, came into the world, he was so hard-favoured, that both his parents frowned on him, and Jupiter threw him out of heaven: he fell on the island Lemnos, and was lame ever afterwards. The last line of the Pastoral seems to justify this sense:

_Nec Deus hunc mensâ, Dea nec dignata cubili est._

For, though he married Venus, yet his mother Juno was not present at the nuptials to bless them; as appears by his wife's incontinence. They say also, that he was banished from the banquets of the gods. If so, that punishment could be of no long continuance; for Homer makes him present at their feasts, and composing a quarrel betwixt his parents, with a bowl of nectar. The matter is of no great consequence; and therefore I adhere to my translation, for these two reasons: first, Virgil has his following line,

_Matri longa decem tulerunt fastidia menses_,

as if the infant's smiling on his mother was a reward to her for bearing him ten months in her body, four weeks longer than the usual time. Secondly, Catullus is cited by Joseph Scaliger, as favouring this opinion, in his Epithalamium of Manlius Torquatus:

_Torquatus, volo, parvolus, Matris e gremio suæ Porrigens teneras manus, Dulce rideat ad patrem_, &c.

What if I should steer betwixt the two extremes, and conclude, that the infant, who was to be happy, must not only smile on his parents, but also they on him? For Scaliger notes, that the infants who smiled not at their birth, were observed to be #agelastoi#, or sullen, (as I have translated it,) during all their life; and Servius, and almost all the modern commentators, affirm, that no child was thought fortunate, on whom his parents smiled not at his birth. I observe, farther, that the ancients thought the infant, who came into the world at the end of the tenth month, was born to some extraordinary fortune, good or bad. Such was the birth of the late prince of Condé's father, of whom his mother was not brought to bed, till almost eleven months were expired after his father's death; yet the college of physicians at Paris concluded he was lawfully begotten. My ingenious friend, Anthony Henley, Esq. desired me to make a note on this passage of Virgil; adding, (what I had not read,) that the Jews have been so superstitious, as to observe not only the first look or action of an infant, but also the first word which the parent, or any of the assistants, spoke after the birth; and from thence they gave a name to the child, alluding to it.

PASTORAL V.

OR,

_DAPHNIS_.

ARGUMENT.

_Mopsus and Menalcas, two very expert shepherds at a song, begin one by consent to the memory of Daphnis, who is supposed by the best critics to represent Julius Cæsar. Mopsus laments his death; Menalcas proclaims his divinity; the whole eclogue consisting of an elegy and an apotheosis._

MENALCAS.

Since on the downs our flocks together feed, And since my voice can match your tuneful reed, Why sit we not beneath the grateful shade, Which hazles, intermixed with elms, have made?

MOPSUS.

Whether you please that sylvan scene to take, Where whistling winds uncertain shadows make; Or will you to the cooler cave succeed, Whose mouth the curling vines have overspread?

MENALCAS.

Your merit and your years command the choice; Amyntas only rivals you in voice.

MOPSUS.

What will not that presuming shepherd dare, Who thinks his voice with Phoebus may compare?

MENALCAS.

Begin you first; if either Alcon's praise, Or dying Phyllis, have inspired your lays; If her you mourn, or Codrus you commend, Begin, and Tityrus your flock shall tend.

MOPSUS.

Or shall I rather the sad verse repeat, Which on the beeches bark I lately writ? I writ, and sung betwixt. Now bring the swain, Whose voice you boast, and let him try the strain.

MENALCAS.

Such as the shrub to the tall olive shows, Or the pale swallow to the blushing rose; Such is his voice, if I can judge aright, Compared to thine, in sweetness and in height.

MOPSUS.

No more, but sit and hear the promised lay; The gloomy grotto makes a doubtful day. The nymphs about the breathless body wait Of Daphnis, and lament his cruel fate. The trees and floods were witness to their tears; At length the rumour reached his mother's ears. The wretched parent, with a pious haste, Came running, and his lifeless limbs embraced. She sighed, she sobbed; and, furious with despair, } She rent her garments, and she tore her hair, } Accusing all the gods, and every star. } The swains forgot their sheep, nor near the brink Of running waters brought their herds to drink. The thirsty cattle, of themselves, abstained From water, and their grassy fare disdained. The death of Daphnis woods and hills deplore; } They cast the sound to Libya's desert shore; } The Libyan lions hear, and hearing roar. } Fierce tigers Daphnis taught the yoke to bear, And first with curling ivy dressed the spear. Daphnis did rites to Bacchus first ordain, And holy revels for his reeling train. As vines the trees, as grapes the vines adorn, As bulls the herds, and fields the yellow corn; So bright a splendour, so divine a grace, The glorious Daphnis cast on his illustrious race. When envious Fate the godlike Daphnis took, Our guardian gods the fields and plains forsook; Pales no longer swelled the teeming grain, Nor Phoebus fed his oxen on the plain; No fruitful crop the sickly fields return, But oats and darnel choke the rising corn; And where the vales with violets once were crowned, Now knotty burrs and thorns disgrace the ground. Come, shepherds, come, and strow with leaves the plain; Such funeral rites your Daphnis did ordain. With cypress-boughs the crystal fountains hide, And softly let the running waters glide. A lasting monument to Daphnis raise, With this inscription to record his praise:-- "Daphnis, the fields' delight, the shepherds' love, Renowned on earth, and deified above; Whose flock excelled the fairest on the plains, But less than he himself surpassed the swains."

MENALCAS.

O heavenly poet! such thy verse appears, So sweet, so charming to my ravished ears, As to the weary swain, with cares opprest, Beneath the sylvan shade, refreshing rest; As to the feverish traveller, when first He finds a crystal stream to quench his thirst. In singing, as in piping, you excel; And scarce your master could perform so well. O fortunate young man! at least your lays Are next to his, and claim the second praise. Such as they are, my rural songs I join, To raise our Daphnis to the powers divine; For Daphnis was so good, to love whate'er was mine.

MOPSUS.

How is my soul with such a promise raised! For both the boy was worthy to be praised, And Stimicon has often made me long To hear, like him, so soft, so sweet a song.

MENALCAS.

Daphnis, the guest of heaven, with wondering eyes, Views, in the milky way, the starry skies, And far beneath him, from the shining sphere, Beholds the moving clouds, and rolling year. For this with cheerful cries the woods resound, } The purple spring arrays the various ground, } The nymphs and shepherds dance, and Pan himself is crowned. } The wolf no longer prowls for nightly spoils, Nor bird's the springes fear, nor stags the toils; For Daphnis reigns above, and deals from thence 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, ever good to thine! Behold! four hallowed altars we design; And two to thee, and two to Phoebus rise; On both is offered 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 generous 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 summer, in the shade. Damoetas shall perform the rites divine, And Lyctian Ægon in the song shall join. Alphesiboeus, 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 renew. Such honours as we pay to powers 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-covered pebbles gently chide.

MENALCAS.

Receive you first this tuneful pipe, the same That played my Corydon's unhappy flame; The same that sung Neæra's conquering 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 unasked, for you deserve it best.

PASTORAL VI.

OR,

_SILENUS_.

ARGUMENT.

_Two young shepherds, Chromis 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._[299]