the Trojan race While we behold such springing worth appear In youth so brave and breasts so void of fear With this he took the hand of either Boy Embrac'd them closely both and wept for joy Ye brave young men what equal gifts can we What recompence for such desert decree The greatest sure and best you can receive The Gods your vertue and your fame will give The Rest our grateful General will bestow And young Ascanius till his Manhood owe. And I whose welfare in my Father lies Ascanius adds by all the Deities By our great Country and our household Gods By Hoary Vesta's rites and dark abodes Adjure you both on you my Fortune stands That and my Faith I plight into your hands Make me but happy in his safe return For I No other loss but only his can mourn Nisus your gift shall two large Goblets be Of Silver wrought with curious Imag'ry And high embost which when old Priam reign'd My conquering Sire at sack'd Arisba gain'd And more two Tripods cast in antique mould With two great Tallents of the finest Gold Besides a Boul which Tyrian Art did grave The Present that Sidonian Dido gave But if in Conquer'd Italy we reign When Spoils by Lot the Victors shall obtain Thou saw'st the Courser by proud Turnus prest That and his golden Arms and sanguine Crest And Sheild from lot exempted thou shalt share With these twelve captive Dam'sels young and fair Male Slaves as many well appointed all With Vests and Arms shall to thy portion fall And last a fruitful Field to thee shall rest The large demenes the Latian King possest But thou whose years are more to mine ally'd No fate my vow'd affection shall divide From thee O wondrous Youth be ever mine Take fâ—ll possession all my Soul is thine My lifes Companion and my bosom Friend One faith one fame one fate shall both attend My peace shall be committed to thy care And to thy Conduct my concerns in war Then thus the bold Euryalus reply'd What ever fortune good or bad betide The same shall be my Age as now my Youth No time shall find me wanting to my truth This only from your bounty let me gain And this not granted all rewards are vain Of Priams Royal Race my Mother came And sure the best that ever bore the name Whom neither Troy nor Sicily cou'd hold From me departing but o're spent and old My fate she follow'd ignorant of this What ever danger Neither parting kiss Nor pious Blessing taken her I leave And in this only Act of all my life deceive By this your hand and conscious Night I swear My youth so sad a farewel cou'd not bear Be you her Patron fill my vacant place Permit me to presume so great a grace Support her Age forsaken and distrest That hope alone will fortifie my breast Against the worst of fortunes and of fears He said th' Assistants shed presaging tears But above all Ascanius mov'd to see That image of paternal piety Then thus reply'd So great beginnings in so green an Age Exact that Faith which firmly I engage Thy Mother all the priviledge shall claim Creâ—sa had and only want the name Whate'r event thy enterprise shall have 'T is Merit to have born a Son so brave By this my Head a sacred Oath I swear My Father us'd it what returning here Crown'd with success I for thy self prepare Thy Parent and thy Family shall share He said and weeping while he spoke the word From his broad Belt he drew a shining Sword Magnificent with Gold Lycaon made And in an Iv'ry scabbard sheath'd the Blade This was his Gift while Mnestheus did provide For Nisus Arms a grisley Lions Hide And true Alethes chang'd with him his helm of temper try'd Thus arm'd they went the noble Trojans wait Their going forth and follow to the Gate With Pray'rs and Vows above the rest appears Ascanius manly far above his years And Messages committed to their care Which all in Winds were lost and empty air The Trenches first they pass'd then took their way Where their proud foes in pitch'd Pavilions lay To many fatal e'r themselves were slain The careless Host disperst upon the Plain They found who drunk with Wine supinely snore Unharness'd Chariots stand upon the shore Midst wheels and reins and arms the Goblet by A Medley of Debauch and War they lie Observing Nisus shew'd his friend the sight Then thus behold a Conquest without fight Occasion calls the Sword to be prepar'd Our way lies there stand thou upon the guard And look behind while I securely go To cut an ample passage through the Foe Softly he spoke then stalking took his way With his drawn Sword where haughty Rhamnes lay His head rais'd high on Tapestry beneath And heaving from his breast he puff'd his breath A King and Prophet by King Turnus lov'd But fate by Prescience cannot be remov'd Three sleeping Slaves he soon subdues then spyes Where Rhemus with his proud Retinue lies His Armour Bearer first and next he kills His Charioteer entrench'd betwixt the wheels And his lov'd Horses last invades their Lord Full on his Neck he aims the fatal Sword The Gasping head flies off a purple â—loud Flows from the Trunk that wallows in the bloud Which by the spurning heels dispers'd around The bed besprinkles and bedews the ground Then Lamyrus with Lamus and the young Serranus who with gaming did prolong The night opprest with wine and slumber lay The beauteous Youth and dreamt of lucky Play More lucky had it been protracted till the day The famish'd Lion thus with hunger bold O're leaps the fences of the nightly fold The peaceful Flock devours and tears and draws Wrapt up in silent fear they lie and pant beneath his paws Nor with less rage Euryalus imploys The vengeful Sword nor fewer foes destroyes But on th' ignoble Crowd his fury flew Which Fadus Hebesus and Rhaetus slew With Abaris in sleep the rest did fall But Rhaetus waking and observing all Behind a mighty Jar he slunk for fear The sharp edg'd Iron found and reach'd him there Full as he rose he plung'd it in his side The cruel Sword return'd in crimson dy'd The wound a blended stream of wine and blood Pours out the purple Soul comes floating in the sloud Now where Messapus quarter'd they arrive The fires were fainting there and just alive The warlike Horses ty'd in order fed Nisus the discipline observ'd and sed Our eagerness of blood may both betray Behold the doubtful glimmering of the day Foe to these nightly thefts No more my friend Here let our glutted execution End A Lane through slaughter'd Bodies we have made The bold Euryalus though loath obey'd Rich Arms and Arras which they scatter'd find And Plate a precious load they leave behind Yet fond of Gaudy spoils the Boy wou'd stay To make the proud Caparisons his prey Which deck'd a Neigh'bring steed Nor did his eyes less longingly behold The Girdle studded o're
in himself and like a Rock Poiz'd on his base Mezentius stood the shock Of his great Foe then measuring with his eyes The space his spear cou'd reach aloud he cryes My own right hand and Sword assist my stroke Those only Gods Mezentius will invoke His Armour from the Trojan Pyrate torn Shall by my Lausus be in triumph worn He said and straight with all his force he threw The massie Spear which hissing as it â—lew Reach'd the celestial Shield that stop'd the course But glanceing thence the yet unbroken force Took a new bent obliquely and betwixt The Side and Bowels fam'd Anthores fixt Anthores had from Argos travell'd far Alcides friend and brother of the War Till tir'd with toyls fair Italy he chose And in Evander's Palace sought repose Now falling by anothers wound his eyes He casts to Heaven on Argos thinks and dies The pious Trojan then his javelin sent The Sheild gave way thro' trebble plates it went Of solid brass of linnen trebbly rowld â—nd three Bull Hides which round the Buckler fold â—ll these it past with unresisted course â—ranspeirâ—'d his thigh and spent its dying force â—he gaping wound gush'd out a crimson floud â—he Trojan glad with sight of hostile bloud His Fauchion drew to closser fight addrest And with new force his fainting foe opprest His Fathers danger Lausus veiw'd with grief He sigh'd he wept he ran to his relief And here O wond'rous Youth 't is here I must To thy immortal memory be just And sing an act so noble and so new Posterity shall scarce believe it true Pain'd with his wound and useless for the fight The Father sought to save himself by flight Incumber'd slow he drag'd the Spear along Which peirc'd his thigh and in his Buckler hung The pious Youth resolv'd to undergo The lifted sword springs out to face his Foe Protects his Father and prevents the blow Shouts of applause ran ringing thro' the field To see the Son the vanquish'd Father sheild â—ll sir'd with Noble Emulation strive â—nd with a storm of darts to distance drive â—he Trojan chief who held at bay from far â—n his Vulcanian Orb sustain'd the War â—s when thick Hail comes ratling in the wind â—he Ploughman Passenger and lab'ring Hind â—or shelter to the Neighb'ring Covert fly â—r hous'd or safe in Hollow Caverns lie â—ut that o'reblown when heav'n above'em smiles â—eturn to Travel and renew their toils â—Eneas thus o'rewhelm'd on every side â—he Storm of darts undaunted did abide â—nd thus to Lausus loud with friendly threatning criâ—d â—hy wilt thou rush to certain death and rage 〈◊〉 rash attempts beyond thy tender age â—etray'd by pious Love nor thus forborn â—he Youth desists but with insulting scorn Provokes the ling'ring Prince whose patience tir'd Gave place and all his breast with fury fir'd For now the Fates prepar'd their cruel Shears And lifted high the conquering Sword appears Which full descending with a fearful sway Thro'Sheild Cuirasse forc'd th' impetuous way And buried deep in his fair bosome lay The springing streams thro' the thin Armour strove And drencht the golden Coat his careful Mother wove And life at length forsook his heaving heart Loth from so sweet a Mansion to depart But when with bloud and paleness all bespread The pious Prince beheld young Lausus dead He griev'd he wept the sight an image brought Of his own filial love a sadly pleasing thought Then stretch'd his hand to raise him up and said Poor hapless youth what praises can be paid To love so great to such transcendent store Of early worth and sure presage of more Accept what e're Aeneas can afford Untouch'd thy Arms untaken be thy Sword And all that pleas'd thee living still remain Inviolate and sacred to the slain Thy body on thy Parents I bestow To please thy Ghost at least if shadows know Or have a tast of humane things below There to thy fellow Ghosts with glory tell 'T was by the great Aeneas hand I fell With this he bids his distant Friends draw near Provokes their Duty and prevents their fear Himself assists to raise him from the ground His Locks deform'd with Blood that well'd from out his wound Mean time the Father now no Father stood And wash'd his wounds by Tybers yellow floud Opprest with anguish panting and o're spent His fainting Limbs against a tree he leant A bough his brazen Helmet did sustain His heavier arms lay scatter'd on the plain Of Youth a chosen Troop around him stand His head hung down and rested on his hand His grizly Beard his pensive bosom sought And all on Lausus ran his restless thought Careful concern'd his danger to prevent Much he enquir'd and many a message sent To warn him from the Field alas in vain Behold his mournful followers bear him slain On their broad shields still gush'd the gaping wound And drew a bloody trail along the ground Far off he heard their cries far off divin'd The dire event with a forebodeing mind With dust he sprinkled first his Hoary head Then both his lifted Arms to Heav'n he spread Last the dear Corps embracing thus he sâ—d What joys alas cou'd this frail being give That I have been so covetous to live To see my Son and such a Son resign His life a ransome for preserving mine And am I then preserv'd and art thou lost How much too dear has that redemption cost T is now my bitter banishment I feel This is a wound too deep for time to heal My guilt thy growing vertues did defame My blackness blotted thy unblemish'd Name Chas'd from a Throne abandon'd and exil'd For foul misdeeds were punishments too mild I ow'd my people these and from their hate With less injustice cou'd have born my fate And yet live and yet support the sight Of hateful men and of more hated Light But will not long With that he rais'd from ground His fainting Limbs that stagger'd with his wound Yet with a mind resolv'd and unapal'd With pains or perils for his Courser call'd Well-mouth'd well manag'd whom himself did dress With daily care and mounted with success His Ayd in Arms his Ornament in peace Soothing his Courage with a gentle stroke The Horse seem'd sensible while thus he spoke O Rhaebus we have liv'd too long for me If long and Life were terms that cou'd agree This day thou either shalt bring back the head And bloody Trophies of the Trojan dead This day thou either shalt revenge my woe For Murther'd Lausus on his cruell Foe Or if inexorable Fate deny Our Conquest with thy Conquer'd Master die For after such a Lord I rest secure Thou wilt no Foreign reins or Trojan load endure He said and straight th' officious Courser kneel To take his wonted weight His hands he fills With pointed Javelins on his head he lac'd His glittering Helm which terribly was grac'd VVith crested Horsehair nodding from afar Then spurr'd his thundring Steed amidst the War Love anguish wrath and
rais'd from thence he reach'd the Neighbouring Beam Around its bulk a sliding knot he throws And fitted to his Neck the fatal noose Then spurning backward took a swing till death Crept up and stopt the passage of his Breath The bounce burst ope the door the Scornful Faiâ— Relentless lookt and saw him beat his quivering feeâ— in Air Nor wept his fate nor cast a pitying eye Nor took him down but brusht regardless by And as she past her chance or fate was such Her Garments toucht the dead polluted by the touch Next to the dance thence to the Bath did move The bath was sacred to the God of Love Whose injur'd Image with a wrathful Eye Stood threatning from a Pedestal on high Nodding a while and watchful of his blow He fell and falling crusht th' ungrateful Nymph below Her gushing Blood the Pavement all besmear'd And this her last expiring Voice was heard Lovers farwell revenge has reacht my scorn Thus warn'd be wise and love for love return DAPHNIS From Theocritus Idyll 27. Daphnis THe Shepheard Paris bore the Spartan Bride By force away and then by force enjoy'd But I by free consent can boast a Bliss A fairer Helen and a sweeter kiss Chloris Kisses are empty joyes and soon are o're Daph. A Kiss betwixt the lips is something more Chlo. I wipe my mouth and where 's your kissing then Daph I swear you wipe it to be kiss'd agen Chlo. Go tend your Herd and kiss your Cows at home I am a Maid and in my Beauties bloom Daph. 'T is well remember'd do not waste your time But wisely use it e're you pass your prime Chlo. Blown Roses hold their sweetness to the last And Raisins keep their luscious native taste Daph. The Sun 's too hot those Olive shades are near I fain wou'd whisper something in your ear Chlo. 'T is honest talking where we may be seen God knows what secret mischief you may mean I doubt you 'l play the Wag and kiss agen Daph. At least beneath you Elm you need not fear My Pipe 's in tune if you 'r dispos'd to hear Chlo. Play by your self I dare not venture thither You and your naughty Pipe go hang together Daph. Coy Nymph beware lest Venus you offend Chlo. I shall have chaste Diana still to friend Daph. You have a Soul and Cupid has a Dart Chlo. Diana will defend or heal my heart Nay sie what mean you in this open place Unhand me or I sware I 'le scratch your face Let go for shame you make me mad for spight My mouth 's my own and if you kiss I 'le bite Daph. Away with your dissembling Female tricks What wou'd you 'scape the fate of all your Sex Chlo. I swear I 'le keep my Maidenhead till death And die as pure as Queen Elizabeth Daph. Nay mum for that but let me lay thee down Better with me than with some nauseous Clown Chlo. I 'de have you know if I were so inclin'd I have bin wo'd by many a wealthy Hind But never found a Husband to my mind Daph. But they are absent all and I am here Chlo. The matrimonial Yoke is hard to bear And Marriage is a woful word to hear Daph. A scar Crow set to frighten fools away Marriage has joys and you shall have a say Chlo. Sour sawce is often mix'd with our delight You kick by day more than you kiss by night Daph. Sham stories all but say the worst you can A very Wife fears neither God nor Man Chlo. But Child-birth is they say a deadly pain It costs at least a Month to knit again Daph. Diana cures the wounds Lucina made Your Goddess is a Midwife by her Trade Chlo. But I shall spoil my Beauty if I bear Daph. But Mam and Dad are pretty names to hear Chlo. But there 's a Civil question us'd of late Where lies my jointure where your own Estate Daph. My Flocks my Fields my Wood my Pastures take With settlement as good as Law can make Chlo. Swear then you will not leave me on the common But marry me and make an honest Woman Daph. I swear by Pan tho' he wears horns you 'll say Cudgell'd and kick'd I 'le not be forc'd away Chlo I bargain for a wedding Bed at least A house and handsome Lodging for a guest Daph A house well furnish'd shall be thine to keep And for a flock bed I can sheer my Sheep Chlo. What Tale shall I to my old Father tell Daph. 'T will make him Chuckle thou' rt bestow'd so well Chlo. But after all in troth I am to blame To be so loving e're I know your Name A pleasant sounding name's a pretty thing Daph. Faith mine 's a very pretty name to sing They call me Daphnis Lycidas my Syre Both sound as well as Woman can desire Nomaea bore me Farmers in degree He a good Husband a good Houswife she Chlo. Your kindred is not much amiss 't is true Yet I am somewhat better born than you Daph. I know your Father and his Family And without boasting am as good as he Menelaus and no Master goes before Chlo. Hang both our Pedigrees not one word more But if you love me let me see your Living Your House and Home for seeing is believing Daph. See first you Cypress Grove a shade from noon Chlo. Browze on my goats for I 'le be with you soon Daph. Feed well my Bulls to whet your appetite That each may take a lusty Leap at Night Chlo. What do you mean uncivil as you are To touch my breasts and leave my bosome bare Daph. These pretty bubbies first I make my own Chlo. Pull out your hand I swear or I shall swoon Daph. Why does thy ebbing blood forsake thy face Chlo. Throw me at least upon a cleaner place My Linnen ruffled and my Wastcoat soyling What do you think new Cloaths were made for spoyling Daph. I 'le lay my Lambskins underneath thy back Chlo. My Head Geer'es off what filthy work you make Daph. To Venus first I lay these offrings by Chlo. Nay first look round that no body be nigh Methinks I hear a whisp'ring in the Grove Daph. The Cypress Trees are telling Tales of love Chlo. You tear off all behind me and before me And I 'm as naked as my Mother bore me Daph. I 'le buy thee better Cloaths than these I tear And lie so close I 'le cover thee from Air. Chlo Y' are liberal now but when your turn is sped You 'l wish me choak'd with every crust of Bread Daph. I 'le give thee more much more than I have told Wou'd I cou'd coyn my very heart to Gold Chlo. Forgive thy handmaid Huntress of the wood I see there 's no resisting flesh and blood Daph. The noble deed is done my Herds I 'le cull Cupid be thine a Calf Venus thine a Bull. Chlo. A Maid I came in an unlucky hour But hence return without my Virgin flour Daph. A Maid is but a barren Name
Farewel The Gods forbid my longer Stay Leave off Fond Muse leave off the Rural Lay. Pan Pan where'er your wandring Footsteps move Whether on Lyce's airy Tops you rove Or sporting in the vast Maenalian Grove Haste quickly haste leave the high Tomb that nods O'er Helick's Cliff the wonder of the Gods And to fair Sicily thy Steps convey Leave off Fond Muse leave off the Rural Lay. Here take my waxen Pipe well joyn'd and fit An useless Pipe to me and I to it For Love and Fate have summon'd me away Leave off Fond Muse leave off the Rural Lay. On Brambles now let Violets be born And op'ning Roses blush on ev'ry Thorn Let all things Nature's Contradiction wear And barren Pine-trees yield the mellow Pear Since Daphnis dyes what can be strange or new Hounds now shall fly and trembling Fawns pursue Schriech-Owls shall sing and Thrushes yield the day Leave off Fond Muse leave off the Rural Lay. Thus Daphnis spake and more he would have sung But Death prevail'd upon his trembling Tongue Fair Venus strove to raise her drooping Son In vain she strove for his last Thread was spun Black Stygian Waves surround the darling Boy Of every Nymph and every Muse's Joy Lifeless he lyes and still as harden'd Clay Who was so Young so Lovely and so gay Leave off Fond Muse leave off the Rural Lay. The Cup and Goat you cannot now refuse I 'll milk her and I 'll offer to my Muse. All hail ye Muses that inspire my Tongue A better day shall have a better Song Goat-herd May dropping Combs on those sweet Lips distill And thy lov'd Mouth with Attick Honey fill For much much sweeter is thy Tuneful Voice Than when on Sunny days with chearful noise The Vocal Insects of the Spring rejoice Here take the promis'd Cup-How bright the look How fine the Smell sure from some fragrant Brook The bath of smiling Hours it the gay tincture took Here * 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the Name of the Goat Cissy hitherward Come milk her now My Kids forbear to leap for if you do The Goat may chance to leap as weâ—l as you The REAPERS THE Tenth IDYLLIUM OF THEOCRITUS Englished by Mr. WILIAM BOWLES of King's College in Cambridge Milo Battus ARe you grown lazy or does some Disease Oh Battus bind your hands and sinews seize That like a Sheep prickt by a pointed Thorn Still you 're behind and lagg at every Turn What in the Heat and Evening will you do Who early in the Morning loiter so Battus Milo thou piece of Flint thou all of Stone Did'st never yet an absent Friend bemoan Milo Who but such Fools as thou the absent Mind Sure what concerns you more you here may find Battus Did Love ne'er yet thy Senses waking keep Trouble thy Dreams or interrupt thy Sleep Milo The Gods preserve me from that restless Care Oh Reapers all the gilded Bait beware Battus But I nine days the Passion Love have felt With inward fires consume and slowly melt See! all neglected lyes before my Door While I run mad for a confounded Whore Battus She who pip'd lately at Hippoâ—ooris Feast Charm'd every Ear and wounded every Guest Milo The God's for some old Sins have sent this Evil And shame long due has reach'd thee from the Devil Battus Beware insulting Cupid has a Dart And it may one day reach thy stubborn Heart Milo Come you 're a Poet sing some am'rous Song 'T will ease your toil and make the day less long Battus Oh Muse assist my Song and make it flow For you fresh Charms on all you sing bestow Bombyce Oh my dearest do not frown They call thee Tawny but I call thee Brown Yet blush not Dear Black is the Violet And Hyacinth with Letters all o'erwrit Yet both are sweet and both for Garlands fit Kids the green Leaves Wolves the young Kids pursue And Battus sweet Bombyce follows you Oh! had the envious Gods not made me poor Had I rich Croesus Wealth and mighty Store In Venus Temple should our Statues stand Thou with thy Pipe and Taber in thy hand I in a Dancer's Posture gay new shod Form'd of pure Gold and glorious as a God! Thy Voice Bombyce is most soft and sweet But who can praise enough thy humour and thy silver feet Milo Battus deceiv'd us a great Poet grown What Verse is here But are they Friend thy own How just the Rhyme's how equally they meet The numbers how harmonious and how sweet Yet mark and this diviner Song attend 'T was by immortal Lyrierses penn'd Smile on the Corn O Ceres bless the Field May the full Ears a plenteous Harvest yield Gather your Sheaves Oh Friends and better bind See how they 're blown and scatter'd by the Wind Haste left some jeering Passenger should say Oh lazy Rogues their Hire is thrown away Reapers observe and to the Southwest turn Your Sheaves 't will fill the Ears and swell the Corn. Threshers at Noon and in the burning heat Then the light Chaff flies out should toil and sweat But Reapers should with the sweet Wood-Lark rise And sleep when Phebus mounts the Southern Skies Happy the Frogs who in the Waters dwell They suck in Drink for Air and proudly swell Oh niggard Bayliff we could dine on Beans And spare your windy Cabbidge and your Pains Such Songs at once delight us and improve But thy sad Ditty and thy tale of Love Keep for thy Mother Battus I advise When stretch'd and yawning in her bed she lyes AITHΣ OR THE Twelfth IDYLLIUM OF THEOCRITUS SCarce three whole days my lovely Youth had past Since thou and I met here and parted last And yet so sluggishly the Minutes slew I thought it Ages till we met anew Gay Youth and Vigour were already sled Already envious Time began to shed A snowy White around my drooping Head As to Spring 's Bravery rugged Winter yields The hoary Mountains to the smiling Fields As by the faithful Shepherd new-yean'd Lambs Are much less valu'd than their fleecy Damms As to wild Plumbs the Damson is preferr'd As nimble Does out-strip the duller Herd As Maids seem fairer in their blooming Pride Then those who Hymen's Joys have often try'd As Philomel when warbling forth her Love Excells the feather'd Quire of ev'ry tuneful Grove So much dost thou all other Youths excell They Speak not Look not Love not half so well Sweeter thy Face more ravishing thy Charms No Guest so welcom to my longing Arms When first I view'd those much lov'd Eyes of thine At distance and from far encount'ring mine I ran I flew to meet th' expected Boy With all the transports of unruly Joy Not with such eager haste such fond Desires The Traveller when scorch'd by Syrian Fires To some well-spreading Beache's shade retires O! that some God would equal Flames impart And spread a mutual warmth thro' either Heart 'Till men should quote our names for loving well And age to age the pleasing Story tell Two men
his Almighty Hands In Letters large writ the divine commands But scarce they were so much in pieces broke When Moses wrath the people did provoke As has the sacred cowl been torn and rent T' explain what the Alwise Dictator meant But now t' our Egypt the great Prophet's come And Eloquent Aaron tells the Joyful doom From the worst slavery at last we' ar free'd And shall no more with stripes from error bleed The learned Simon has th' hard task subdu'd And holy Tables the third time renew'd Sinai be bless'd where was receiv'd the Law That ought to keep the Rebel World in aw And bless'd be He that taught us to invoke God's awful Name as God to Moses spoke Nor do's he merit less who cou'd so well From foreign Language his great dictates tell In our cold clime the pregnant Soul lay hid No virtual power mov'd the prolyâ—ick seed Till his kind genial heat preserv'd it warm And to perfection wrought the noble form Never did yet arive so vast a store Of solid Learning on the British shore T'export it thence has been the greatest Trade But He at last a full return has made Raise up ye tuneful Bards your voices raise And crown his Head with never dying praise And all ye Nimrods mighty Sons rejoice While ev'ry Workman knows the builders voice â—n Shinars plain the lofty Tow'r may rise Till its vast Head sustain the bending skies In its own Nature Truth is so Divine No sacred Pow'rs oppose this great design So dark a veil obscur'd her rev'rend Head The wisest Trav'lers knew not where to tread Blind zeal and mad Enthusiasts shewd the way While wand'ring Meteors led their Eyes astray Thro' the dark Maze without a Clue they ran And at Best ended where they first began But now at last we' ar brought so near her Throne At the next step the glorious Crown 's our own Horti ARLINGTONIANI AD Clarissimum Dominum Henricum Comitem Arlingtoniae c. MAgnificos propter saltus avita Jacobi Moenia quae faciunt commercia duplicis aulae Ac Ducis ac Divi nomen commune tuetur Surgunt coctilibus succincta palatia muris Quae posita ad Zephyrum radiis sol igneus aureis Illustrat moriente die nascente salutat Eximiam interea molâ—m mirantur eunteâ— Vulgusque Proceresque caducos plorat honores Aulicus rerum fastigia lubrica damnat Foelicemque vocat Dominum cui tempora vitae Labuntur variis anlae inconcussa procellis Et quamvis procul haud absint tum plebis iniquae Improba garrulitas tum clamor ambitus aulae Circumfusa quies pax incognita Magnisâ— Hic placidè regnant verum simplice cultu Propositique tenax virtus pectus honestum Namque ubi priâ—â— diem surgens Aurora reducit Et matutinae sudant sub roribus herbae Nulla volans fumante viam rota turbine versat Crebra putres sonitu nec verberat ungula glebas Hinc procul imbelles persultant pabula Damae Atque piâ placidos curant dulcedine foetus Inde loquax ripas aquosa cubilia linquens Fertur Anas madidis irrorans aethera pennis Vos O Pierides molli testudine Musae Dicite pulchricomis depictum floribus hortum Nullus abest cui duleis honos quem mille pererrant Formosae Veneres pharetrâque Cupido tuetur Non illum Alcinoi floreta aut Thessala Tempe Exuperant quanquam haec qui fingunt omnia Vates Mendaci sublime ferant ad sydera cantu Areaque in medio est multum spectabilis horto Ordinibus raris palorum obducta tuentum Laetificans oculos ac dona latentia prodens Nempe haec per spatia flores transmittit iniqua Distinctos variis maculis suave rubentes Non illic violae neque candida lilia desunt Parva loquor quicquid nostro Deus invidet orbi Hic viget quicquid tepidi vicinia solis Laetior Hesperiis educit germen in arvis Qualia saepe inter moriens floreta Cupido Conjugis aeterno jacuit devinctus amore Te solam cupiens in Te pulcherrima Psyche Arsit heu propriis fixit praecordia telis Nec sine nomine erunt myrtela nec aurea Poma Quae quoniam calido nascuntur plurima coelo Et brumas indocta pati nimbosque ruentes Nec fas hic teneros ramorum effundere foetus Protinus hybernis clauduntur ab aethere tectis Spirantesque premunt animas ne poma caduca Vel glacies loedat teneras vel srigora myrtos Inque novos soles audent se credere molles Vt captent Zephyros impune ac lumen amicum Nec Te praeteream tenebris quae dives opacis Sylva vires vento motis peramabilis umbris Hic magnus laborille inextricabilis error Per quem mille viis errantem Thesea duxit Ah nimis infoelix per fila sequentia virgo Securi hic tenero ludunt in gramine amantes Nec reperire viam curant ubi lumina vesper Deficiente die accendit sed longius ipsam Hic secum placidè cupiunt consumere noctem Dum super arboreos modulans Luscinia ramos Dulce melos iterat tenerosque invitat amores Quinetiam extremo surgit conterminus horto Mons foelix albis quem circum Gessamis ornat Floribus ac laetas dat praetereuntibus umbras Hunc super ascendit turbâ comitante virum Rex Augustus Proceresque caput supereminet omnes Atque pedem properans graditur vestigia volvens Grandia nec serae meminit decedere nocti Omnibus ante oculos divini ruris imago Et sincera quies operum rerumque nitescit Incorruptus honos nescia fallere vita Nec non hic solus placidi super ardua montis Clare Comes tecum meditaris mente serenâ Munera Daedaleae naturae animusque recedit In loca sacra fugitque procul contagia mundi Despicere unde queas miseros passimque videre Mortales vitae subeuntes mille pericla Continuò inter se niti praestante labore Divitiis inhiare habenas sumere rerum Deturbare throno Regem magnasque aliorum Fortunas ambire ac nigris fervere curis Dum Tu Magne Comes minimâ sine parte doloris Prospicis ex alto viridantes gramine saltus Vndique confluxam hinc turbam lautisque crepantes Sub pedibus cochleas teneras queis fibula dives Connectit soleas gemmis imitantibus ignes Inde lacus lustras puroque canalia rivo Lucida magnificam neque lumen nictat ad aulam Inter Purpureos Regi gratissime Patres O Dium fidumque Caput venerabile gentis Praesidium O magnos jamdudum exute labores Saepius hic tecum placido spatieris in horto Traducens faciles sed non inglorius annos Et vitam studiis florentem nobilis Oti Dum timor omnis abest curaeque incendia luctus Nec Tibi vel telis audet fortuna nocere Vel struere insidias Canis Tibi libera transis Tempora accedis tantum non hospes
SYLVAE OR THE Second Part OF POETICAL Miscellanies Non deficit alter Aureus simili frondescit virga metallo Virg. LONDON Printed for Iacob Tonson at the Iudges-Head in Chancery-lane near Fleetstreet 1685. PREFACE FOr this last half Year I have been troubled with the disease as I may call it of Translation the cold Prose fits of it which are always the most tedious with me were spent in the History of the League the hot which succeeded them in this Volume of Verse Miscellanies The truth is I fancied to my self a kind of ease in the change of the Paroxism never suspecting but that the humour wou'd have wasted it self in two or three Pastorals of Theocritus and as many Odes of Horace But finding or at least thinking I found something that was more pleasing in them than my ordinary productions I encourag'd my self to renew my old acquaintance with Lucretius and Virgil and immediately fix'd upon some parts of them which had most affected me in the reading These were my natural Impulses for the undertaking But there was an accidental motive which was full as forcible and God forgive him who was the occasion of it It was my Lord Roscomon's Essay on translated Verse whose made me uneasie till I try'd whether or no I was capable of following his Rules and of reducing the speculation into practice For many a fair Precept in Poetry is like a seeming Demonstration in the Mathematicks very specious in the Diagram but failing in the Mechanick Operation I think I have generally observ'd his instructions I am sure my reason is sufficiently convinc'd both of their truth and usefulness which in other words is to confess no less a vanity than to pretend that I have at least in some places made Examples to his Rules Yet withall I must acknowledge that I have many times exceeded my Commission for I have both added and omitted and even sometimes very boldly made such expositions of my Authors as no Dutch Commentator will forgive me Perhaps in such particular passages I have thought that I discover'd some beauty yet undiscover'd by those Pedants which none but a Poet cou'd have found Where I have taken away some of their Expressions and cut them shorter it may possibly be on this consideration that what was beautiful in the Greek or Latin wou'd not appear so shining in the English And where I have enlarg'd them I desire the false Criticks wou'd not always think that those thoughts are wholly mine but that either they are secretly in the Poet or may be fairly deduc'd from him or at least if both those considerations should fail that my own is of a piece with his and that if he were living and an Englishman they are such as he wou'd probably have written For after all a Translator is to make his Author appear as charming at possibly he can provided he maintains his Character and makes him not unlike himself Translation is a kind of Drawing after the Life where every one will acknowledge there is a double sort of likeness a good one and a bad 'T is one thing to draw the Out-lines true the Features like the Proportions exact the Colouring it self perhaps tolerable and another thing to make all these graceful by the posture the shadowings and chiefly by the Spirit which animates the whole I cannot without some indignation look on an ill Copy of an excellent Original Much less can I behold with patience Virgil Homer and some others whose beauties I have been endeavouring all my Life to imitate so abus'd as I may say to their Faces by a botching Interpreter What English Readers unacquainted with Greek or Latin will believe me or any other Man when we commend those Authors and confess we derive all that is pardonable in us from their Fountains if they take those to be the same Poets whom our Ogleby's have Translated But I dare assure them that a good Poet is no more like himself in a dull Translation than his Carcass would be to his living Body There are many who understand Greek and Latin and yet are ignorant of their Mother Tongue The proprieties and delicacies of the English are known to few 't is impossible even for a good Wit to understand and practice them without the help of a liberal Education long Reading and digesting of those few good Authors we have amongst us the knowledge of Men and Manners the freedom of habitudes and conversation with the best company of both Sexes â—nd in short without wearing off the ruâ—t which â—e contracted while he was laying in a stock of Learning Thus difficult it is to understand the â—urity of English and critically to discern not â—nly good Writers from bad and a proper stile â—rom a corrupt but also to distinguish that which â—s pure in a good Author from that which is viâ—ious and corrupt in him And for want of all these â—equisites or the greatest part of them most of â—ur ingenious young Men take up some cry'd up English Poet for their Model adore him and â—itate him as they think without knowing whereâ—â— he is defective where he is Boyish and trifling â—herein either his thoughts are improper to his â—ubject or his Expressions unworthy of his Thoughts or the turn of both is unharmoniâ—us Thus it appears necessary that a Man shou'd be nice Critick in his Mother Tongue before he â—ttempts to Translate a foreign Language Neiâ—â—er is it sufficient that he be able to Iudge of â—ords and Stile but he must be a Master of them too He must perfectly understand his Authors Tongue and absolutely command his own So that to be a thorow Translatour he must be a thorow Poet. Neither is it enough to give his Authors sence in good English in Poetical expressions and in Musical numbers For though all these are exceeding difficult to perform there yet remains an harder task and 't is a secret of which few Translatours have sufficiently thought I have already hinted a word or two concerning it that is the maintaining the Character of an Author which distinguishes him from all others anâ— makes him appear that individual Poet whom you wou'd interpret For example not only the thoughts but the Style and Versification of Virgil and Ovid art very different Yet I see even in our best Poets who have Translated some parts of them that they have confounded their several Talents and by endeavouring only at the sweetness and harmony of Numbers have made them both so much alike that if I did not know the Originals I shou'd never be able to Iudge by the Copies which was Virgil and which was Ovid It was objected against a late noble Painter that he drew many graceful Pictures but few of them were like And this happen'd to him because he always studied himself more than those who sate to him In such Translatours I can easily distinguish the hand which perform'd the Work but I cannot distinguish their Poet from another Suppose
two Authors are equally sweet yet there is a great distinction to be made in sweetness as in that of Sugar and that of Honey I can make the difference more plain by giving you if it be worth knowing my own method of proceeding in my Translations out of four several Poets in this Volume Virgil Theocritus Lucretius and Horace In each of these before I undertook them I consider'd the Genius and distinguishing Character of my Author I look'd on Virgil as a succinct and grave Majestick Writer one who weigh'd not only every thought but every Word and Syllable Who was still aiming to crowd his sence into as narrow a compass as possibly he cou'd for which reason he is so very Figurative that he requires I may almost say a Grammar apart to construe him His Verse is every where sounding the very thing in your Ears whose sence it bears Yet the Numbers are perpetually varied to increase the delight of the Reader so that the same sounds are never repeated twice together On the contrary Ovid and Claudian though they Write in Styles differing from each other yet have each of them but one sort of Musick in their Verses All the versification and little variety of Claudian is included within the compass of four or five Lines and then he begins again in the same tenour perpetually closing his sence at the end of a Verse and that Verse commonly which they call golden or two Substantives and two Adjectives with a Verb betwixt them to keep the peace Ovid with all his sweetness has as little variety of Numbers and sound as he He is always as it were upon the Hand-gallop and his Verse runs upon Carpet ground He avoids like the other all Synalaepha's or cutting off one Vowel when it comes before another in the following word So that minding only smoothness he wants both Variety and Majesty But to return to Virgil though he is smooth where smoothness is requir'd yet he is so far from affecting it that he seems rather to disdain it Frequently makes use of Synalaepha's and concludes his sence in the middle of his Verse He is every where above conceipts of Epigrammatick Wit and gross Hyperboles He maintains Majesty in the midst of plainess he shines but glares not and is stately without ambition which is the vice of Lucan I drew my definition of Poetical Wit from my particular consideration of him For propriety of thoughts and words are only to be found in him and where they are proper they will be delightful Pleasure follows of necessity as the effect does the cause and therefore is not to be put into the definition This exact propriety of Virgil I particularly regarded as a great part of his Character but must confess to my shame that I have not been able to Translate any part of him so well as to make him appear wholly like himself For where the Original is close no Version can reach it in the same compass Hannibal Caro's in the Italian is the nearest the most Poetical and the most Sonorous of any Translation of the Aeneids yet though he takes the advantage of blank Verse he commonly allows two Lines for one of Virgil and does not always hit his sence Tasso tells us in his Letters that Sperone Speroni a great Italian Wit who was his Contemporary observ'd of Virgil and Tully that the Latin Oratour endeavour'd to imitate the Copiousness of Homer the Greek Poet and that the Latine Poet made it his business to reach the conciseness of Demosthenes the Greek Oratour Virgil therefore being so very sparing of his words and leaving so much to be imagin'd by the Reader can never be translated as he ought in any modern Tongue To make him Copious is to alter his Character and to Translate him Line for Line is impossible because the Latin is naturally a more succinct Language than either the Italian Spanish French or even than the English which by reason of its Monosyllables is far the most compendious of them Virgil is much the closest of any Roman Poet and the Latin Hexameter has more Feet than the English Heroick Besides all this an Author has the choice of his own thoughts and words which a Translatour has not he is confin'd by the sence of the Inventor to those expressions which are the nearest to it So that Virgil studying brevity and having the command of his own Language cou'd bring those words into a narrow compass which a Translatour cannot render without Circumlocutions In short they who have call'd him the torture of Grammarians might also have call'd him the plague of Translatours for he seems to have studied not to be Translated I own that endeavouring to turn his Nisus and Euryalus as close as I was able I have perform'd that Episode too literally that giving more scope to Mezentius and Lausus that Version which has more of the Majesty of Virgil has less of his conciseness and all that I can promise for my self is only that I have done both better than Ogleby and perhaps as well as Caro. So that methinks I come like a Malefactor to make a Speech upon the Gallows and to warn all other Poets by my sad example from the Sacrilege of Translating Virgil. Yet by considering him so carefully as I did before my attempt I have made some faint resemblance of him and had I taken more time might possibly have succeeded better but never so well as to have satisfied my self He who excells all other Poets in his own Language were it possible to do him right must appear above them in our Tongue which as my Lord Roscomon justly observes approaches nearest to the Roman in its Majesty Nearest indeed but with a vast interval betwixt them There is an inimitable grace in Virgils words and in them principally consists that beauty which gives so unexpressible a pleasure to him who best understands their force this Diction of his I must once again say is never to be Copied and since it cannot he will appear but lame in the best Translation The turns of his Verse his breakings his propriety his numbers and his gravity I have as far imitated as the poverty of our Language and the hastiness of my performance wou'd allow I may seem sometimes to have varied from his sence but I think the greatest variations may be fairly deduc'd from him and where I leave his Commentators it may be I understand him better At least I Writ without consulting them in many places But two particular Lines in Mezentius and Lausus I cannot so easily excuse they are indeed remotely ally'd to Virgils sence but they are too like the trifling tenderness of Ovid and were Printed before I had consider'd them enough to alter them The first of them I have forgotten and cannot easily retrieve because the Copy is at the Press The second is this When Lausus dy'd I was already slain This appears pretty enough at first sight but I am convinc'd