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.
I FIRST transferr'd to Rome Sicilian strains;
Nor blush'd the Doric Muse to dwell on Mantuan plains. But when I tried her tender voice, too young, And fighting kings and bloody battles sung, Apollo check'd my pride, and bade me feed My fatt'ning flocks, nor dare beyond the reed. Admonish'd thus, while every pen prepares To write thy praises, Varus, and thy wars, My past'ral Muse her humble tribute brings; And yet not wholly uninspir'd she sings: For all who read, and, reading, not disdain These rural poems, and their lowly strain, The name of Varus, oft inscrib'd shall see In ev'ry grove, and ev'ry vocal tree;
And all the sylvan reign shall sing of thee:
Thy name, to Phoebus and the muses known, Shall in the front of ev'ry page be shown; For, he who sings thy praise secures his own. Proceed, my Muse!-Two Satyrs on the ground, Stretch'd at his ease, their sire Silenus found. Doz'd with his fumes, and heavy with his load, They found him snoring in his dark abode, And seiz'd with youthful arms the drunken god. His rosy wreath was dropt not long before,
Borne by the tide of wine, and floating on the floor. 25 His empty can, with ears half worn away,
Was hung on high, to boast the triumph of the day. Invaded thus, for want of better bands,
His garland they unstring, and bind his hands: For, by the fraudful god deluded long, They now resolve to have their promis'd song. Ægle came in, to make their party good- The fairest Naïs of the neighb'ring flood- And, while he stares around with stupid eyes, His brows with berries, and his temples, dies. He finds the fraud, and with a smile demands, On what design the boys had bound his hands. "Loose me," he cried; "'twas impudence to find A sleeping god; 'tis sacrilege to bind.
To you the promis'd poem I will pay;
The nymph shall be rewarded in her way."
He rais'd his voice, and soon a num'rous throng Of tripping Satyrs crowded to the song;
And sylvan Fauns, and savage beasts, advanc'd; And nodding forests to the numbers danc'd. Not by Hæmonian hills the Thracian bard, Nor awful Phoebus was on Pindus heard With deeper silence, or with more regard. He sung the secret seeds of Nature's frame; How seas, and earth, and air, and active flame, Fell through the mighty void, and, in their fall, Were blindly gather'd in this goodly ball.
The tender soil, then stiff'ning by degrees, Shut from the bounded earth the bounding seas. Then earth and ocean, various forms disclose; And a new sun to the new world arose ;
And mists, condens'd to clouds, obscure the sky; And clouds, dissolv'd, the thirsty ground supply. The rising trees the lofty mountains grace: The lofty mountains feed the savage race, Yet few, and strangers, in th' unpeopled place. From thence the birth of man the song pursu'd, And how the world was lost, and how renew'd: The reign of Saturn, and the golden age; Prometheus' theft, and Jove's avenging rage; The cries of Argonauts for Hylas drown'd, With whose repeated name the shores resound; Then mourns the madness of the Cretan queen: Happy for her if herds had never been. What fury, wretched woman, seiz'd thy breast? The maids of Argus (though with rage possess'd, Their imitated lowings fill'd the grove,) Yet shunn'd the guilt of thy prepost'rous love, Nor sought the youthful husband of the herd,
Tho' lab'ring yokes on their own necks they fear'd, (75 And felt for budding horns on their smooth foreheads rear'd.
Ah, wretched queen! you range the pathless wood, While on a flow'ry bank he chews the cud, Or sleeps in shades, or through the forest roves, And roars with anguish for his absent loves. "Ye nymphs, with toils his forest-walk surround, And trace his wand'ring footsteps on the ground. But, ah! perhaps my passion he disdains, And courts the milky mothers of the plains. We search th' ungrateful fugitive abroad, While they at home sustain his happy load." He sung the lover's fraud; the longing maid, With golden fruit, like all the sex, betray'd;
The sisters mourning for their brother's loss;
Their bodies hid in barks, and furr'd with inoss; How each a rising alder now appears,
And o'er the 'o distills her gummy tears: Then sung, how Gallus, by a Muse's hand, Was led and welcom'd to the sacred strand; The senate rising to salute their guest, And Linus thus their gratitude express'd: "Receive this present, by the Muses made, The pipe on which th' Ascrean pastor play'd; With which of old he charm'd the savage train, And call'd the mountain ashes to the plain. Sing thou, on this, thy hoebus, and the wood Where once his fane of i arian marble stood: On this his ancient oracles rehearse; And with new numbers grace the god of verse." Why should I sing the double Scylla's fate? The first by love transform'd, the last by hate- A beauteous maid above; but magic arts With barking dogs deform'd her nether parts: What vengeance on the passing fleet she pour'd, The master frighted, and the mates devour'd. Then ravish'd Philomel the song exprest; The crime reveal'd; the sisters' cruel feast; And how in fields the lapwing Tereus reigns, The warbling nightingale in woods complains:
While Procne makes on chimney-tops her moan, And hovers o'er the palace once her own. Whatever songs besides the Delphian god Had taught the laurels, and the Spartan flood, Silenus sung: the vales his voice rebound, And carry to the skies the sacred sound. And now the setting sun had warn'd the swain To call his counted cattle from the plain:
Y t still th' unwearied sire pursues the tuneful strain. Till, unperceiv'd, thavens with stars were hung, And sudden night surpris'd the yet unfinish'd song,
Melibæus here gives us the relation of a sharp poetical contest between Thyrsis and Corydon, at which he and Daphnis were present; who both declared for Corydon.
BENEATH a holm, repair'd two jolly swains, (Their sheep and goats together graz'd the plains) Both young Arcadians, both alike inspir'd
To sing, and answer as the song requir'd. Daphnis, as umpire, took the middle seat; And fortune thither led my weary feet. For, while I fenc'd my myrtles from the cold, The father of my flock had wander'd from the fold. Of Daphnis I inquir'd: he smiling said,
"Dismiss your fear," and pointed where he fed: "And if no greater cares disturb your mind, Sit here with us in covert of the wind. Your lowing heifers, of their own accord,
At wat'ring time, will seek the neighbouring ford. Here wanton Mincius winds along the meads, And shades his happy banks with bending reeds. And see, from yon old oak that meets the skies, How black the clouds of swarming bees arise." What should I do? nor was Alcippi nigh, Nor absent Phillis could my care, supply, To house, and feed by hand my weaning lambe, And drain the strutting udders of their dams
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