Starting at once from their green seats, they rise;
Fear in their hearts, amazement in their eyes.
But Arethusa, leaping from her bed,

First lifts above the waves her beauteous head;
And, crying from afar, thus to Cyrene said.
O sister! not with causeless fear possest,
No stranger voice disturbs thy tender breast.
"Tis Aristeus, 't is thy darling son,

Who to his careless mother makes his moan.
Near his paternal stream he sadly stands,
With downcast eyes, wet cheeks, and folded hands,
Upbraiding heaven from whence his lineage came;
And cruel calls the gods, and cruel thee, by name.

CYRENE RECEIVES HER SON; THE HOMES OF THE RIVERS
AND LAKES.

Cyrene, moved with love, and seized with fear,
Cries out, conduct my son, conduct him here:
"T is lawful for the youth, derived from gods,
To view the secrets of our deep abodes.
At once she waved her hand on either side,
At once the ranks of swelling streams divide.
Two rising heaps of liquid crystal stand,
And leave a space betwixt, of empty sand.
Thus safe received, the downward track he treads,
Which to his mother's watery palace leads.
With wondering eyes he views the secret store
Of lakes, that pent in hollow caverns roar ;
He hears the crackling sound of coral woods,
And sees the secret source of subterranean floods.
And where, distinguished in their several cells,
The fount of Phasis and of Lycus dwells;
Where swift Enipeus in his bed appears,
And Tiber his majestic forehead rears.
Whence Anio flows, and Hypanis, profound,
Breaks through th' opposing rocks with raging
Where Po first issues from his dark abodes, [sound.
And, awful in his cradle, rules the floods.
Two golden horns on his large front he wears,
And his grim face a bull's resemblance bears.
With rapid course he seeks the sacred main,
And fattens, as he runs, the fruitful plain.

THE WATER PALACE OF CYRENE, AND HER ENTERTAINMENT.
Now to the court arrived, the admiring son
Beholds the vaulted roofs of pory stone;
Now to his mother goddess tells his grief,
Which she with pity hears, and promises relief.
Th' officious nymphs, attending in a ring,
With water drawn from their perpetual spring,
From earthly dregs his body purify,
And rub his temples, with fine towels, dry:
Then load the tables with a liberal feast,
And honor with full bowls their friendly guest.
The sacred altars are involved in smoke,
And the bright choir their kindred gods invoke.
Two bowls the mother fills with Lydian wine;
Then thus, Let these be poured, with rites divine,
To the great authors of our watery line;
To father Ocean, this; and this, she said,
Be to the Nymphs, his sacred sisters, paid, [shade.'
Who rule the watery plains, and hold the woodland

She sprinkled thrice with wine the vestal fire,
Thrice to the vaulted roof the flames aspire.
Raised with so blest an omen, she begun,
With words like these, to cheer her drooping son.

PROTEUS, THE SHEPHERD OF THE SEAS, AND HIS METAMOR-
PHOSES. SCARPANTS ISLAND; PENINSULA OF PALLENE.

In the Carpathian bottom makes abode
The shepherd of the seas, a prophet and a god;
High o'er the main in watery pomp he rides,
His azure car and finny coursers guides:
Proteus his name: to his Pallenian port
I see from far the weary god resort.
Him not alone we river gods adore,
But aged Nereus hearkens to his lore.
With sure foresight, and with unerring doom,
He sees what is, and was, and is to come.
This Neptune gave him, when he gave to keep
His scaly flocks, that graze the watery deep.
Implore his aid, for Proteus only knows
The secret cause, and cure of all thy woes.
But first the wily wizard must be caught,
For, unconstrained, he nothing tells for naught;
Nor is with prayers, or bribes, or flattery bought.
Surprise him first, and with hard fetters bind ;
Then all his frauds will vanish into wind.
I will myself conduct thee on thy way,
When next the southing sun inflames the day :
When the dry herbage thirsts for dews in vain,
And sheep, in shades, avoid the parching plain,
Then will I lead thee to his secret seat;
When, weary with his toil, and scorched with heat,
The wayward sire frequents his cool retreat.
His eyes with heavy slumber overcast,
With force invade his limbs, and bind him fast:
Thus surely bound, yet be not over bold,
The slippery god will try to loose his hold,
And various forms assume to cheat thy sight,
And with vain images of beasts affright:
With foamy tusks will seem a bristly boar,
Or imitate the lion's angry roar;

Break out in crackling flames to shun thy snares,
Or hiss a dragon, or a tiger stares;
Or with a wile, thy caution to betray,
In fleeting streams attempt to slide away.
But thou, the more he varies forms, beware
To strain his fetters with a stricter care:
Till, tiring all his arts, he turns again
To his true shape, in which he first was seen.

THE CAVE OF PROTEUS.— ARISTEUS CONDUCTED THERE BY
CYRENE.

This said, with nectar she her son anoints;
Infusing vigor through his mortal joints :
Down from his head the liquid odors ran;
He breathed of heaven, and looked above a man.
Within a mountain's hollow womb there lies

A large recess, concealed from human eyes;
Where heaps of billows, driven by wind and tide,
In form of war, their watery ranks divide;
And there, like sentries set, without the mouth

abide;

A station safe for ships, when tempests roar,
A silent harbor, and a covered shore.
Secure within resides the various god,
And draws a rock upon his dark abode.
Hither with silent steps, secure from sight,

The goddess guides her son, and turns him from the light:

Herself, involved in clouds, precipitates her flight.

PROTEUS SURROUNDED BY HIS HERDS OF SEALS, ETC. "T was noon; the sultry dog-star from the sky Scorched Indian swains, the rivelled grass was dry; The sun with flaming arrows pierced the flood, And, darting to the bottom, baked the mud : When weary Proteus, from the briny waves, Retired for shelter to his wonted caves : His finny flocks about their shepherd play, And, rolling round him, spirt the bitter sea. Unwieldily they wallow first in ooze, Then in the shady covert seek repose. Himself their herdsman, on the middle mount, Takes of his mustered flocks a just account. So, seated on a rock, a shepherd's groom Surveys his evening flocks returning home; When lowing calves, and bleating lambs, from far, Provoke the prowling wolf to nightly war.

CONTEST OF ARISTÆUS WITH PROTEUS.

The occasion offers, and the youth complies: For scarce the weary god had closed his eyes, When rushing on, with shouts, he binds in chains The drowsy prophet, and his limbs constrains. He, not unmindful of his usual art, First in dissembled fire attempts to part; Then roaring beasts, and running streams, he tries, And wearies all his miracles of lies; But having shifted every form to 'scape, Convinced of conquest, he resumed his shape; And thus, at length, in human accent spoke. Audacious youth, what madness could provoke A mortal man t' invade a sleeping god? What business brought thee to my dark abode?

To this the audacious youth: thou know'st full My name and business, god, nor need I tell : [well No man can Proteus cheat; but, Proteus, leave Thy fraudful arts, and do not thou deceive. Following the gods' command, I come t' implore Thy help, my perished people to restore.

PROTEUS TELLS THE STORY OF ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.

DEATH OF EURYDICE.

The seer, who could not yet his wrath assuage, Rolled his green eyes, that sparkled with his rage; And gnashed his teeth, and cried, No vulgar god Pursues thy crimes, nor with a common rod. Thy great misdeeds have met a due reward, And Orpheus' dying prayers at length are heard. For crimes not his the lover lost his life, And at thy hands requires his murdered wife : Nor (if the fates assist not) canst thou 'scape The just revenge of that intended rape.

To shun thy lawless lust, the dying bride,
Unwary, took along the river's side,
Nor at her heels perceived the deadly snake,
That keeps the bank, in covert of the brake.
But all her fellow-nymphs the mountains tear
With loud laments, and break the yielding air:
The realms of Mars re-murmured all around,
And echoes to th' Athenian shores rebound.

TUNEFUL GRIEF OF ORPHEUS.

The unhappy husband, husband now no more, Did on his tuneful harp his loss deplore, [store. And sought his mournful mind with music to reOn thee, dear wife, in deserts all alone,

He called, sighed, sung; his griefs with day begun,
Nor were they finished with the setting sun.
Ev'n to the dark dominions of the night
He took his way, through forests void of light;
And dared amidst the trembling ghosts to sing;
And stood before th' inexorable king.

ORPHEUS VISITS HELL.

[laid.

Th' infernal troops like passing shadows glide, And, listening, crowd the sweet musician's side: Not flocks of birds, when driven by storms or night, Stretch to the forest with so thick a flight. Men, matrons, children, and the unmarried maid, The mighty hero's more majestic shade, And youths on funeral piles before their parents All these Cocytus bounds with squalid reeds, With muddy ditches, and with deadly weeds: And baleful Styx encompasses around With nine slow circling streams th' unhappy ground. Ev'n from the depths of hell the damned advance ; Th' infernal mansions, nodding, seem to dance; The gaping three-mouthed dog forgets to snarl ; The furies hearken, and their snakes uncurl; Ixion seems no more his pains to feel, But leans attentive on his standing wheel.

ORPHEUS, RETURNING WITH EURYDICE, LOOKS BACK, AND LOSES HIS WIFE FOREVER; HER TOUCHING FAREWELL.

All dangers past, at length the lovely bride In safety goes, with her melodious guide; Longing the common light again to share, And draw the vital breath of upper air: He first, and close behind him followed she, For such was Proserpine's severe decree. When strong desires th' impatient youth invade; By little caution and much love betrayed: A fault which easy pardon might receive, Were lovers judges, or could hell forgive. For near the confines of ethereal light, And longing for the glimmering of a sight, The unwary lover cast his eyes behind, Forgetful of the law, nor master of his mind. Straight all his hopes exhaled in empty smoke; And his long toils were forfeit for a look. Three flashes of blue lightning gave the sign Of cov'nants broke, three peals of thunder join. Then thus the bride: What fury seized on thee, Unhappy man! to lose thyself and me?

Dragged back again by cruel destinies,

An iron slumber shuts my swimming eyes.
And now farewell, — involved in shades of night,
Forever I am ravished from thy sight.
In vain I reach my feeble hands, to join
In sweet embraces; ah! no longer thine!
She said, and from his eyes the fleeting fair
Retired, like subtile smoke dissolved in air;
And left her hopeless lover in despair.

In vain, with folding arms, the youth assayed
To stop her flight, and strain the flying shade :
He prays, he raves, all means in vain he tries,
With rage inflamed, astonished with surprise :
But she returned no more, to bless his longing eyes.

THE GRIEF OF ORPHEUS; THE BEREAVED NIGHTINGALE.

Nor would the infernal ferryman once more Be bribed, to waft him to the further shore. What should he do, who twice had lost his love? What notes invent, what new petitions move? Her soul already was consigned to fate, And shivering in the leaky sculler sat. For seven continued months, if fame say true, The wretched swain his sorrows did renew; By Strymon's freezing streams he sat alone, The rocks were moved to pity with his moan: Trees bent their heads to hear him sing his wrongs, Fierce tigers couched around, and lolled their fawning tongues.

So, close in poplar shades, her children gone, The mother-nightingale laments alone : Whose nest some prying churl had found, and thence, By stealth, conveyed th' unfeathered innocence. But she supplies the night with mournful strains, And melancholy music fills the plains.

THE DREADFUL FATE OF ORPHEUS.

Sad Orpheus thus his tedious hours employs, Averse from Venus, and from nuptial joys. Alone he tempts the frozen floods, alone Th' unhappy climes, where Spring was never known; He mourned his wretched wife, in vain restored, And Pluto's unavailing boon deplored.

The Thracian matrons, who the youth accused
Of love disdained, and marriage-rites refused,
With furies and nocturnal orgies fired,

At length against his sacred life conspired. [killed
Whom ev'n the savage beasts had spared, they
And strewed his mangled limbs about the field.
Then, when his head, from his fair shoulders torn,
Washed by the waters, was on Hebrus borne, –
Ev'n then his trembling tongue invoked his bride;
With his last voice, Eurydice, he cried,
Eurydice, the rocks and river-banks replied.

PROTEUS DISAPPEARS. THE ADVICE OF CYRENE.

This answer Proteus gave, nor more he said, But in the billows plunged his hoary head; [spread. And where he leaped, the waves in circles widely

The nymph returned, her drooping son to cheer, And bade him banish his superfluous fear : For now, said she, the cause is known from whence Thy woe succeeded, and for what offence: The nymphs, companions of th' unhappy maid, This punishment upon thy crimes have laid; And sent a plague among thy thriving bees. With vows and suppliant prayers their powers apThe soft Napaan race will soon repent [pease : Their anger, and remit the punishment : The secret in an easy method lies; Select four brawny bulls for sacrifice, Which on Lycæus graze, without a guide; Add four fair heifers yet in yoke untried: For these, four altars in their temple rear, And then adore the woodland powers with prayer. From the slain victims pour the streaming blood, And leave the bodies in the shady wood : Nine mornings thence, Lethæan poppy bring, To appease the manes of the poet's king: And, to propitiate his offended bride, A fatted calf and a black ewe provide : This finished, to the former woods repair.

ARISTEUS PERFORMS THE PRESCRIBED RITES, AND THE BEES ARE PRODUCED; THEIR SWARMS.

His mother's precepts he performs with care; The temple visits, and adores with prayer. Four altars raises; from his herd he culls, For slaughter, four the fairest of his bulls; Four heifers from his female store he took, All fair, and all unknowing of the yoke. Nine mornings thence, with sacrifice and prayers, The powers atoned, he to the grove repairs. Behold a prodigy! for from within The broken bowels, and the bloated skin, A buzzing noise of bees his ears alarms, — Straight issue through the sides assembling swarms; Dark as a cloud they make a wheeling flight, Then on a neighboring tree, descending, light: Like a large cluster of black grapes they show, And make a large dependence from the bough.

CONCLUSION OF THE GEORGICS. — COMPLIMENT TO CÆSAR; THE GOLDEN AGE RENEWED.- NAPLES, THE RESIDENCE OF

VIRGIL.

Thus have I sung of fields, and flocks, and trees, And of the waxen work of laboring bees: While mighty Cæsar, thundering from afar, Seeks on Euphrates' banks the spoils of war; With conquering arts asserts his country's cause, With arts of peace the willing people draws; On the glad earth the Golden Age renews, And his great father's path to heaven pursues. While I at Naples pass my peaceful days, Affecting studies of less noisy praise : And bold, through youth, beneath the beechen The lays of shepherds, and their loves have played.

[shade,

GRAY'S "ELEGY,"

WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD.

THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;
Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower,

The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient, solitary reign.

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell forever laid,

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow, twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care;
Nor children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield;

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their teams afield! How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,

Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.

The boast of heraldry,
the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth, e'er gave,
Await, alike, the inevitable hour;

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Nor you, ye proud! impute to these the fault,

If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

Can storied urn, or animated bust,

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust,

Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death?

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid

Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire: Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repressed their noble rage,

And froze the genial current of the soul. Full many a gem, of purest ray serene, The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear; Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute, inglorious Milton, - here may rest; Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. The applause of listening senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,

And read their history in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind; The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride With incense kindled at the muse's flame. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learned to stray; Along the cool sequestered vale of life

They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Yet even these bones from insult to protect,
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,

This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind?
On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires :
Ev'n from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of the unhonored dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, -

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,

Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn, Brushing, with hasty steps, the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. There at the foot of yonder nodding beech, That wreathes its old fantastic root so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. Hard by yon wood, now smiling, as in scorn, Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove; Now drooping, woful-wan, like one forlorn,

Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love :

'One morn I missed him on the 'customed hill, Along the heath, and near his favorite tree : Another came; nor yet beside the rill,

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he. The next, with dirges due, in sad array, [borne ; Slow through the church-yard path we saw him Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'

BLOOMFIELD'S "DOLLY." 'Ingenuous trust, and confidence of Love. THE bat began, with giddy wing,

His circuit round the shed, the tree; And clouds of dancing gnats to sing A summer night's serenity. Darkness crept slowly o'er the east ;

Upon the barn-roof watched the cat ; Sweet breathed the ruminating beast At rest where Dolly musing sat. A simple maid, who could employ

The silent lapse of evening mild, And loved its solitary joy :

For Dolly was Reflection's child. He who had pledged his word to be Her life's dear guardian, far away, The flower of yeoman cavalry,

Bestrode a steed with trappings gay.

And thus from Memory's treasured sweets, And thus from Love's pure fount, she drew That peace which busy Care defeats,

And bids our pleasures bloom anew. Six weeks of absence have I borne

Since Henry took his fond farewell : The charms of that delightful morn

My tongue could thus forever tell. He at my window, whistling loud,

Aroused my lightsome heart to go: Day, conquering, climbed from cloud to cloud; The fields all wore a purple glow. We strolled the bordering flowers among : One hand the bridle held behind, The other round my waist was flung: Sure never youth spoke half so kind! The rising lark I could but hear; And jocund seemed the song to be: But sweeter sounded in my ear,

Will Dolly still be true to me!'
From the rude dock my skirt had swept
A fringe of clinging burs so green;
Like them our hearts still closer crept,

And hooked a thousand holds unseen.
High o'er the road each branching bough
Its globes of silent dew had shed;
And on the pure-washed sand below

The dimpling drops around had spread.
The sweet-brier oped its pink-eyed rose,
And gave its fragrance to the gale;
Though modest flowers may sweets disclose,
More sweet was Henry's earnest tale.
He seemed, methought, on that dear morn,
To pour out all his heart to me;
As if, the separation borne,

The coming hours would joyless be.
A bank rose high beside the way,
And full against the morning sun;
Of heavenly blue the violets gay
His hand invited one by one.
The posy with a smile he gave :
I saw his meaning in his eyes:
The withered treasure still I have ;

My bosom holds the fragrant prize.
With his last kiss he would have vowed;
But blessings, crowding, forced their way:
Then mounted he his courser proud;

His time elapsed, he could not stay. Then first I felt the parting pang; — Sure the worst pang the lover feels! His horse, unruly, from me sprangThe pebbles flew beneath his heels. Then down the road his vigor tried, His rider gazing, gazing still: 'My dearest, I'll be true,' he cried ; — And, if he lives, I'm sure he will. Then haste, ye hours, haste, Eve and Morn, Yet strew your blessings round my home: Ere Winter's blasts shall strip the thorn, My promised joy, my Love, will come.