By JOHN CARYLL, Efq;
The Reader may be pleased to obferve, that Virgil, ander the Name of Tityrus, perfonates himself, newly faved by the Favour of Auguftus Cæfar, from the general Calamity of his Mantuan Neighbours; whofe Lands were taken from them, and divided amongst the Veteran Soldiers, for having been dipt (as may be prefumed) in the fame Guil: with their Borderers of Cremona; who in the Civil Wars, joined with Caffius and Brutus. Thefe Mantuans are likewife perfonated by Meliboeus; as alfo by Amaryllis, the City of Rome, by Galatea, that of Mantua are reprefented. The drift of this Eclogue, is to celebrate the Munificence of Auguftus towards Virgil, whom he makes his tutelar God; and the better to set this off, he brings in Melit ceas, viz. by Mantuan Neighbours, pathetically relating their own deplorable Condition, and at the fame time magnifying the felicity of Tityrus. This his Exemption from the common Calamity of his Country men, Virgil fhadows over with the Allegory of a Slave, recovering his Liberty. And becaufe Slaves did not commonly use to be infranchifed, 'till Age had made them felefs for Labour; to follow the Trope, he makes himself an old Man, as by the Candidi or Barba, and the Fortunate Senex, fufficiently VOL. I. P 2
appears; though in reality Virgil at that time was young and then first made known to Atguftus, by the Recommendation of his Verfes, and of his Friends, Varus and Mecenas.
IN which
N peaceful Shades, which aged Oaks diffuse,
We leave our Home, and (once) our pleafant Fields,
The native Swain to rude Intruders yields;
While you in Songs your happy Love proclaim,
And every Grove learns Amaryllis' Name.
A God (to me he always fhall be fo)
O Melibeus! did this Grace beftow.
The choiceft Lamb, which in my Flock does feed,
Shall each new Moon upon his Altar bleed:
He every Blessing on his Creatures brings; [fings. By him the Herd does graze, by him the Herdsman
MELIBE VS.
I envy not, but I admire your Fate,
Which thus exempts you from our wretched State.
Look on my Goats that browz, my Kids that play,
Driven hence my felf, these I muft drive away,
And this poor Mother of a new fall'n Pair,
(The Herds chief Hope (alas) but my Defpair!)
Has left 'em in yond Brakes, befide the way,
Expos'd to every Beaft and Bird of Prey.
Had not fome angry Planet ftruck me blind,
This dire Calamity I had divin'd.
'Twas oft foretold me by Heaven's loudeft Voice,
Rending our talleft Oaks with difmal Noife:
Ravens fpcke too, though in a lower tone,
And long from hollow Tree were heard to grone.
But fay: What God has Tityrus reliev'd?
The place call'd Rome, I foolishly believ'd
Was like our Mantua, where, on Market-days,
We drive our well-fed Lambs, (the Shepherd's praife ;)
So Whelps (I knew) fo Kids, their Dams express,
And fo the great I meafur'd by the lefs.
But other Towns when you to her compare,
They creeping Shrubs to the tall Cypress are.
MELIBEUS.
What great Occafion call'd you hence to Rome?
TITYRU S.
Freedom, which came at laft, though flow to come:
She came not till cold Winter did begin,
And Age fome Snow had sprinkled on my Chin, Nor then, till Galatea I forfook,
For Amaryllis daign'd on me to look.
No hope for Liberty, I must confefs,
No hope, nor care of Wealth, did me poffefs,
Whilft I with Galatea did remain :
For though my Flock her Altars did maintain,
Though often I had made my Cheese-prefs groan,
Largely to furnish our ungrateful Town,
Yet ftill with empty hands I trotted home.
I wonder'd (Galatea!) whence fhould come,
Thy fad Complaints to Heaven, and why fo long
Ungather'd on their Trees thy Apples hung?
Abfent was Tityrus! Thee every Dale,
Mountain and Spring, thee every Tree did call!
TITTRU S.
What fhould I do? I could not here be free,
And only in that place could hope to fee
A God propitious to my Liberty.
There I the Heavenly Youth did firft behold,
Whofe monthly Feaft, while folemnly I hold,
My loaded Altars never fhall be cold.
He heard my Prayers, Go home (he cry'd) and feed In peace your Herd, let forth your Bulls for breed,
Happy old Man! thy Farm untouch'd remains,
And large enough; tho' it may ask thy Pains,
To clear the Stones, and Rushes cure by Drains.
Thy teeming Ewes will no frange Paftures try,
No Murrain fear from tainted Company.
Thrice happy Swain! guarded from Sirian Beams,
By facred Springs, and long acquainted Streams.
Look on that bordering Fence, whofe Ofier Trees
Are fraught with Flowers, whose Flowers are fraught
with Bees:
How, with their drowfie tone, the whistling Air
(Your fleep to tempt) a Concert does prepare!
At farther diftance, but with ftronger Lungs,
The Wood-man joins with thefe his Ruftick Songs:
Stock-Doves, and murmuring Turtles tune their
Thofe in a Hoarfer, thefe a fofter Note. [Throat,
TITTRUS.
Therefore the Land and Sea fhall dwellers change:
Fish on dry Ground, Stags fhall on Water range:
The Parthians fhall commute their Bounds with Francs,
Thofe fhall on Soan, thefe drink on Tygris Banks,
E'er I his God-like Image from my Heart,
Suffer with black ingratitude to part.
But we must rome to Parts remote, unknown,
Under the Torrid, and the Frigid Zone:
These Frozen Scythia, and parcht Africk those,
Cretan Qaxis others muft inclofe:
Some 'mongst the utmost Britains are confin'd,
Doom'd to an Ifle, from all the World disjoin'd.
Ah! muft I never more my Country fee,
But in ftrange Lands an endless Exile be?
Is my eternal Banishment decreed,
From my poor Cottage, rear'd with Turf and Reed?
Muft impious Soldiers all these Grounds poffefs,
My Fields of ftanding Corn, my fertile Leyes?
Did I for thefe Barbarians Plow and Sow?
What dire effects from civil Difcord flow!
Graft Pears (O Melibeus!) plant the Vine!
The Fruit fhall others be, the Labour thine.
Farewel my Goats! a happy Herd, when mine!
No more shall I, in the refreshing Shade
Of verdant Grotto's, by kind Nature made,
Behold your climbing on the Mountain top,
The flowry Thyme, and fragrant Shrubs to crop,
I part with every Joy, parting from you;
Then farewel all the World! Verfes and Pipe, adieu!
TITTRU S.
At least this Night with me forget your Care;
Chefnuts, and well-preft Cheese shall be your Fare;
For now the Mountain a long Shade extends,
And curling Smoak from Village tops afcends.
The SECOND ECLOGUE. English'd by Mr. TATE.
A Hopeless Flame did Corydon deftroy,
The lov'd Alexis was his Mafter's Joy.
No refpite from his Grief the Shepherd knew,
But daily walk'd where fhady Beeches grew:
Where ftretch'd on Earth, alone he thus complains,
And in these accents tells the Groves his Pains.
Cruel Alexis! haft thou no remorfe?
Muft I expire, and have my Songs no force?
'Tis now high Noon, when Herds to Coverts run,
The very Lizards hide, that love the Sun.
The Reapers home to dinner now repair,
While bufie Theftylis provides both Sawce and Fare.
Yet in the raging Heat I fearch for thee,
Heat only known to Locufts and to me.
Oh was it not much better to fuftain,
The angry days of Amaryllis's Reign?
Or ftill be fubject to Menalchas fway,
Tho' he more black than Night, and thou more, fair
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