Corydon.

Ye mossy fountains, warbling as ye flow! And softer than the slumbers ye bestow,

Ye grassy banks! ye trees with verdure crown'd,
Whose leaves a glimmering shade diffuse around!
Grant to my weary flocks a cool retreat,

And screen them from the summer's raging heat;
For now the year in brightest glory shines,
Now reddening clusters deck the bending vines.
Thyrsis.

Here's wood for fuel; here the fire displays
To all around its animating blaze;

Black with continual smoke our posts appear;
Nor dread we more the rigour of the year,
Than the fell wolf the fearful lambkins dreads,
When he the helpless fold by night invades;
Or swelling torrents, headlong as they roll,
The weak resistance of the shatter'd mole.

Corydon.

Now yellow harvests wave on every field, Now bending boughs the hoary chesnut yield, Now loaded trees resign their annual store, And on the ground the mellow fruitage pour ; Jocund, the face of Nature smiles, and gay; But if the fair Alexis were away,

Inclement drought the hardening soil would drain, And streams no longer murmur o'er the plain.

Thyrsis.

A languid hue the thirsty fields assume,

Parch'd to the root the flowers resign their bloom,
The faded vines refuse their hills to shade,
Their leafy verdure wither'd and decay'd:
But if my Phyllis on these plains appear,
Again the groves their gayest green shall wear.
Again the clouds their copious moisture lend,
And in the genial rain shall Jove descend.

Corydon.

Alcides' brows the poplar-leaves surround Apollo's beamy locks with bays are crown'd, The myrtle, lovely queen of smiles, is thine, And jolly Bacchus loves the curling vine; But while my Phyllis loves the hazel-spray, To hazel yield the myrtle and the bay.

T'hyrsis.

The fir, the hills; the ash adorns the woods;
The pine, the gardens; and the poplar, floods.
If thou, my Lycidas, wilt deign to come,
And cheer thy shepherd's solitary home,
The ash so fair in woods, and garden-pine,
Will own their beauty far excell'd by thine.

Melibæus.

So sung the swains, but Thyrsis strove in vain;
Thus far I bear in mind th' alternate strain.
Young Corydon acquired unrivall'd fame,
And still we pay a deference to his name.

PASTORAL VIII.*

DAMON, ALPHESIBUS.

REHEARSE we, Pollio, the enchanting strains
Alternate sung by two contending swains.
Charm'd by their songs, the hungry heifers stood
In deep amaze, unmindful of their food;

The listening lynxes laid their rage aside,
The streams were silent, and forgot to glide.

* In this eighth pastoral no particular scene is described. The poet rehearses the songs of two contending swains, Damon and Alphesi bus. The former adopts the soliloquy of a despairing lover the latter chooses for his subject the magic rites of an enchantress forsaken by her lover, and recailing him by the power of her spells.

O thou, where'er thou lead'st thy conquering host,
Or by Timavus,* or th' Illyrian coast!

When shall my Muse, transported with the theme,
In strains sublime my Pollio's deeds proclaim;

And celebrate thy lays by all admir'd,

To thee my

Such as of old Sophocles' Muse inspired?
To thee, the patron of my rural songs,
my first, my latest lay belongs.
Then let this humble ivy-wreath enclose,
'Twined with triumphal bays, thy godlike brows.
What time the chill sky brightens with the dawn,
When cattle love to crop the dewy lawn.
Thus Damon to the woodlands wild complain'd,
As 'gainst an olive's lofty trunk he lean'd.

Damon.

Lead on the genial day, O star of morn!
While wretched I, all hopeless and forlorn,
With my last breath my fatal woes deplore,
And call the gods by whom false Nisa swore;
Though they, regardless of a lover's pain,
Heard her repeated vows, and heard in vain.
Begin, my pipe, the sweet Mænalian strain.t

Blest Mænalus! that hears the pastoral song
Still languishing its tuneful groves along!
That hears th' Arcadian god's celestial lay,
Who taught the idly-rustling reeds to play!
That bears the singing pines! that hears the swain
Of love's soft chains melodiously complain!
Begin, my pipe, the sweet Manalian strain.
Mopsus the willing Nisa now enjoys-

What may not lovers hope from such a choice!

* A river in Italy.

+ This intercalary line (as it is called by the commentators), which seems to be intended as a chorus or burden to the song, is here made the last of a triplet, that it may be as independent of the context and the verse in the translation as it is in the original.-Mænalus was a mountain of Arcadia.

Now mares and griffius shall their hate resign,
And the succeeding age shall see them join
In friendship's tie; now mutual love shall bring
The dog and dee to share the friendly spring.
Scatter thy nuts, O Mopsus, and prepare
The nuptial torch to light the wedded fair.
Lo, Hesper hastens to the western main.
And thine the night of bliss-thine, happy swain!
Begin, my pipe, the sweet Mænalian strain.
Exult, O Nisa, in thy happy state!
Supremely blest in such a worthy mate;
While you my beard detest, and bushy brow,
And think the gods forget the world below;
While you my flock and rural pipe disdain,
And treat with bitter scorn a faithful swain,
Begin, my pipe, the sweet Mænalian strain.

When first I saw you by your mother's side,
To where our apples grew I was your guide;
Twelve summers since my birth had roll'd round,
And I could reach the branches from the ground.
How did I gaze !-how perish -ah how vain
The fond bewitching hopes that sooth'd my pain?
Begin, my pipe, the sweet Mænalian strain.

Too well I know thee, Love. From Scythian snows,

Or Lybia's burning sands the mischief rose.

Rocks adamantine nursed this foreign bane,

This fell invader of the peaceful plain.

Begin, my pipe, the sweet Mænalian strain.

Love taught the mother's* murdering hand to kill, Her children's blood love bade the mother spill. Was love the cruel cause?+ Or did the deed From fierce unfeeling cruelty proceed?

* Medea.

+ This seems to be Virgil's meaning. The translator did not choose to preserve the conceit on the words puer and mater la bis ver-ion as this (in his opinion) would have rendered the passage obscure and unpleasing to an English reader.

Both fill'd her brutal bosom with their bane ;
Both urged the deed, while Nature shrunk in vain.
Begin, my pipe, the sweet Mænalian strain.

Now let the fearful lamb the wolf devour;
Let alders blossom with Narcissus' flower;
From barren shrubs let radiant amber flow;
Let rugged oaks with golden fruitage glow;
Let shrieking owls with swans melodious vie;
Let Tityrus the Thracian numbers try,
Out-rival Orpheus in the sylvan reign,
And emulate Arion on the main.

Begin, my pipe, the sweet Mænalian strain.

Let land no more the swelling waves divide; Earth, be thou whelm'd beneath the boundless tide: Headlong from yonder promontory's brow

I plunge into the rolling deep below.

Farewell, ye woods! farewell, thou flowery plain!
Hear the last lay of a despairing swain:

And cease, my pipe, the sweet Mænalian strain.

Here Damon ceased. And now, ye tuneful Nine, Alphesibous' magic verse subjoin,

To his responsive song your aid we call;
Our power extends not equally to all.

Alphesibæus.

Bring living waters from the silver stream, With vervain and fat incense feed the flame: With this soft wreath the sacred altars bind, To move my cruel Daphnis to be kind, And with my frenzy to inflame his soul; Charms are but wanting to complete the whole. Bring Daphnis home, bring Daphnis to my arms, O bring my long-lost love, my powerful charms By powerful charms what prodigies are done! Charms draw pale Cynthia from her silver throne,