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Thy sweet retirement to defend,
High o'er the moss-grown rock impend,
Whence prattling in loquacious play
Thy sprightly waters leap away.

THE PASTORALS OF VIRGIL.

Non ita certandi cupidus, quam propter amorem
Quod te imitari aveo
Lucret. lib. iii.

PASTORAL I..

MELIBEUS, TITYRUS,

Melibœus.

WHERE the broad beech an ample shade displays,
Your slender reed resounds the sylvan lays,

It has been observed by some critics, who have treated of pastoral poetry, that, in every poem of this kind, it is proper that the scene or landscape, connected with the little plot or fable on which the poem is founded, be delineated with at least as much accuracy as is sufficient to render the description par ticular and picturesque. How far Virgil has thought fit to attend to such a rule may appear from the remarks which the translator has subjoined to every pastoral.

The scene of the first pastoral is pictured out with great accuracy. The shepherds Melibaus and Tityrus are represented as conversing together beneath a spreading beech-tree. Flocks and herds are feeding hard by. At a little distance we bebold, on the one hand a great rock, and on the other a fence of flowering willows. The prospect as it widens is diversified with groves, and streams, and some tall trees, particularly elms. Beyond all these appear marshy grounds, and rocky hills. The ragged and drooping flock of the unfortunate shepherd, particularly the shegoat which he leads along, are no inconsiderable figures in this picture. The time is the evening of a summer-day, a little before sunset. See of the original, v. 1. 5. 9. 52. 54. 57. 59. 81, &c.

This pastoral is said to have been written on the following occasion. Augustus, in order to reward the services of his veterans, by means of whom he had established himself in the Roman empire, distributed among them the lands that lay contiguous to Mantua and Cremona. To make way for these intruders, the rightful owners, of whom Virgil was one, were turned out. But our poet, by the intercession of Mecenas, was reinstated in his possessions. Melibaeus here personates one of the unhappy exiles, and Virgil is represented under the character of Tityrus

O happy Tityrus! while we, forlorn,

Driven from our lands, to distant climes are borne, Stretch'd careless in the peaceful shade you sing, And all the groves with Amaryllis ring.

Tityrus.

This peace to a propitious god I owe;
None else, my friend, such blessings could bestow.
Him will I celebrate with rights divine,

And frequent lambs shall stain his sacred shrine.
By him, these feeding herds in safety stray;
By him, in peace I pipe the rural lay.

Melibæus.

I envy not, but wonder at your fate, That no alarms invade this blest retreat;

While neighbouring fields the voice of woe resound, And desolation rages all around.

Worn with fatigue I slowly onward bend,
And scarce my feeble fainting goats attend.
My hand this sickly dam can hardly bear,
Whose young new-yean'd (ah once an hopeful pair!)
Amid the tangling hazels as they lay,
On the sharp flint were left to pine away.
These ills I had foreseen, but that my mind
To all portents and prodigies was blind.
Oft have the blasted oaks foretold my woe:
And often has the inauspicious crow,
Perch'd on the wither'd holm, with fateful cries
Scream'd in my ear her dismal prophecies.
But say, O Tityrus, what god bestows
This blissful life of undisturb'd repose?

Tityrus.

Imperial Rome, while yet to me unknown,
I vainly liken'd to our country-town,
Our little Mantua, at which is sold
The yearly offspring of our fruitful fold:
As in the whelp the father's shape appears,
And as the kid its mother's semblance bears.
Thus greater things my inexperienced mind
Rated by others of inferior kind.

But she, 'midst other cities, rears her head
High, as the cypress overtops the reed.

Melibaus.

And why to visit Rome was you inclin'd?

Tityrus.

'Twas there I hoped my liberty to find.
And there my liberty I found at last,
Though long with listless indolence opprest;
Yet not till Time had silver'd o'er my hairs,
And I had told a tedious length of years;
Nor till the gentle Amaryllis charm'd,*
And Galatea's love no longer warm'd.
For (to my friend I will confess the whole)
While Galatea captive held my soul,
Languid and lifeless all I dragg'd the chain,
Neglected liberty, neglected gain,

Though from my fold the frequent victim bled,
Though my fat cheese th' ungrateful city fed,
For this I ne'er perceived my wealth increase;
I lavish'd all her haughty heart to please.

Melibaus.

Why Amaryllis pined, and pass'd away
In lonely shades the melancholy day;
Why to the gods she breathed incessant vows;
For whom her mellow apples press'd the boughs
So late, I wonder'd-Tityrus was gone,
And she (ah luckless maid!) was left alone.
Your absence every warbling fountain mourn'd,
And woods and wilds the wailing strains return'd.

Tityrus.

What could I do? to break th' enslaving chain All other efforts had (alas!) been vain ;

Nor durst my hopes presume, but there, to find
The gods so condescending and so kind.
Twas there these eyes the Heaven-born youtht

beheld,

To whom our altars monthly incense yield:

The refinements of Taubmannus, De La Cerda, and others, who will have Amaryllis to signify Rome, and Galatea to signify Mantua, have perplexed this passage not a little: if the literal meaning be adinitted, the whole becomes obvious and natural. † Augustus Cæsar.

My suit he even prevented, while he spoke,

'Manure your ancient farm, and feed your former flock.'

Melibous.

Happy old man! then shall your lands remain,
Extent sufficient for th' industrious swain !
Though bleak and bare yon ridgy rocks arise,
And lost in lakes the neighbouring pasture lies.
Your herds on wonted grounds shall safely range,
And never feel the dire effects of change.
No foreign flock shall spread infecting bane

To hurt your pregnant dams, thrice happy swain !
You by known streams and sacred fountains laid
Shall taste the coolness of the fragrant shade.
Beneath yon fence, where willow-boughs unite,
And to their flowers the swarming bees invite,
Oft shall the lulling hum persuade to rest,
And balmy slumbers steal into your breast;
While warbled from this rock the pruner's lay
In deep repose dissolves your soul away;
High on yon elm the turtle wails alone,
And your loved ring-doves breathe a hoarser moan.

Tityrus.

The nimble harts shall graze in empty air, And seas retreating leave their fishes bare, The German dwell where rapid Tigris flows, The Parthian, banish'd by invading foes, Shall drink the Gallic Arar, from my breast Ere his majestic image be effaced.

Melibœeus.

But we must travel o'er a length of lands,
O'er Scythian snows, or Afric's burning sands;
Some wander where remote Oäxes laves
The Cretan meadows with his rapid waves;
In Britain some, from every comfort torn,
From all the world removed, are doom'd to mourn.
When long long years have tedious roll'd away,
Ah! shall I yet at last, at last, survey
My dear paternal lands, and dear abode,
Where once I reign'd in walls of humble sod!

These lands, these harvests must the soldier share!
For rude barbarians lavish we our care!

How are our fields become the spoil of wars!
How are we ruin'd by intestine jars!
Now, Melibus, now ingraff the pear,
Now teach the vine its tender sprays to rear !--
Go then, my goats!-go, once a happy store-
Once happy!-happy now (alas!) no more!
No more shall I, beneath the bowery shade
In rural quiet indolently laid,

Behold you from afar the cliffs ascend,
And from the shrubby precipice depend;
No more to music wake my melting flute,
While on the thyme you feed, and willow's wholesome
shoot.

Tityrus.

This night at least with me you may repose
On the green foliage, and forget our woes.
Apples and nuts mature our boughs afford,
And curdled milk in plenty crowns my board,
Now from yon hamlets clouds of smoke arise,
And slowly roll along the evening skies;
And see, projected from the mountain's brow,
A lengthen'd shade obscures the plain below.

PASTORAL II.

Alexis.

YOUNG Corydon for fair Alexis pined,

But hope ne'er gladden'd his desponding mind;
Nor vows nor tears the scornful boy could move,
Distinguish'd by his wealthier master's love.

The chief excellency of this poem consists in its delicacy and simplicity. Corydon addresses his favourite in such a purity of sentiment as one would think might effectually discountenance the prepossessions which generally prevail against the subject of this eclogue. The nature of his affection may easily be ascer tained from his ideas of the happiness which he hopes to enjoy in the company of his beloved Alexis.

O tantum libeat

O deign at last amid these lonely fields, &c.

It appears to have been no other than that friendship, which was

M

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