The FOURTH ECLOGUE.

POLL I O.

English'd by Mr. DRYDEN.

The Poet celebrates the Birth day of Salonius, the Son of Pollio, born in the Confulship of his Father, after the taking of Salona, a City in Dalmatia. Many of the Verfes are tranflated from one of the Sibyls, who prophefied of our Saviour's Birth.

Icilian Mufe begin a loftier ftrain!

[Plain,

Though lowly Shrubs and Trees that shade the Delight not all; if thither I repair,

My Song shall make 'em worth a Conful's Care.
The laft great Age foretold by facred Rhymes,
Renews its finifh'd Course, Saturnian times
Rowl round again, and mighty Years, begun
From their first Orb in radiant Circles run,
The base degenerate Iron-off-fpring ends;
A golden Progeny from Heav'n defcends;
O chaft Lucina fpeed the Mother's Pains
And hafte the glorious Birth, thy own Apolle reigns!
The lovely Boy, with his aufpicious Face,
Shall Pollie's Confulfhip and Triumph Grace;
Majestick Months fet out with him to their ap-
pointed Race.

The Father banish'd Virtue shall restore,

And Crimes fhall threat the guilty World no more. The Son fhall lead the Life of Gods, and be

By Gods and Heroes feen, and Gods and Heroes fee. The jarring Nations he in Peace fhall bind,

And with paternal Virtues rule Mankind.

Unbidden Earth fhall wreathing Ivy bring,
And fragrant Herbs (the promises of Spring)
As her first Off'rings to her Infant King.

}

The Goats with ftrutting Dugs fhall homeward speed,
And lowing Herds, fecure from Lions feed,
His Cradle hall with rifing Flowers be crown'd;
The Serpents Brood fhall die: the facred Ground
Shall Weeds and pois'nous Plants refufe to bear,
Each common Bufh fhall Syrian Rofes wear.
But when Heroick Veife his Youth fhall raise,
And form it to Hereditary Praise;

Unlabour'd Harvefts fhall the Fields adorn,
And clufter'd Grapes fhall blush on every Thorn.
The knotted Oaks fhall fhow'rs of Honey weep,
And through the matted Grafs the liquid Gold fhall
creep.

Yet, of old Fraud fome footsteps fhall remain,
The Merchant ftill fhall plough the Deep for gain:
Great Cities fhall with Walls be compass'd round;
And fharpen'd Shares fhall vex the fruitful Ground.
Another Tiphys fhall new Seas explore,
Another Argos on th' Iberian Shore

Shall land the chofen Chiefs:

Another Helen other Wars create,

And great Achilles fhall be fent to urge the Trojan fate:
But when to ripen'd Man-hood he shall grow,
The greedy Sailor fhall the Seas forego;

No Keel fhall cut the Waves for foreign Ware;
For every Soil fhall every Product bear.

The labouring Hind his Oxen shall disjoin, [Vine:
No Plow fhall hurt the Glebe, no Pruning-hook the S

Nor Wool fhall in diffembled Colours shine.
But the luxurious Father of the Fold,

With native Purple, or unborrow'd Gold,
Beneath his pompous Fleece hall proudly fweat:
And under Tyrian Robes the Lamb fhall bleat,
The Fates, when they his happy Web have spun,
Shall blefs the facred Clue, and bid it smoothly runs

Mature in Years, to awful Honours move,
O of Cœleftial Stem! O fofter Son of Jove!
See, labouring Nature calls thee to sustain

The nodding Frame of Heav'n,and Earth, and Main;
See to their Bafe reftor'd, Earth, Seas, and Air, [pear.
And joyful Ages from behind, ftand crowding to ap-
To fing thy Praife, wou'd Heav'n my Breath prolong,
Infufing Spirits worthy fuch a Song;

Not Thracian Orpheus fhould tranfcend my Lays,
Nor Linus crown'd with never-fading Bays:

Though each his Heav'nly Farent fhou'd inspire;
The Muse inftru&t the Voice, and Phabus tune the Lyre.
Shou'd Pan contend with me, and thou my Theme,
Arcadian Judges fhou'd their God condemn.
Begin, aufpicious Boy, to caft about
[out;
Thy Infant Eyes, and with a smile, thy Mother fingle
Thy Mother well deserves that short delight,
The naufeous Qualms of ten long Months and Tra-
vel to requite.

Then fmile; the frowning Infant's Doom is read, No God fhail crown the Board, nor Goddess bless the Bed.

The FIFTH ECLOGUE.

DAPHN1 S.

English'd by Mr. DUKE.

MENAL CAS.

MOPSUS.

MENAL CAS.

[Opfus, fince chance does us together bring,

M°

And you so well can pipe, and I can fing, Why fit we not beneath this fecret Shade,

By Elms and Hazels mingling Branches made?

MOPSU S.

Your Age commands Respect, and I obey,
Whether you in this lonely Copse will stay,
Where western Winds the bending Branches fhake,
And in their play the Shades uncertain make:
Or whether to that filent Cave you go,

The better choice! and fee the wild Vines grow
Luxuriant round, and see how wide they spread,
And in the Cave their purple Clusters fhed!
MENAL CAS.

Amyntas only dares contend with you.

MOPSV S.

Why not as well contend with Phabus too?

MENAL CAS.

Begin, begin, whether the mournful Flame
Of dying Phylis, whether Alcon's Fame,
Or Codrus's Brawls thy willing Mufe provoke;
Begin, young Tityrus will tend the Flock.
MOPSU S.

Yes, I'll begin, and the fad Song repeat,
That on the Beech's Bark I lately writ,
And set to sweetest Notes; yes, I'll begin,
And after that, bid you Amyntas fing.,
MENAL CAS.

As much as the most humble Shrub that grows,
Yields to the beauteous Blushes of the Rose,
Or bending Ofiers to the Olive Tree;
So much, I judge, Amyntas yields to thee.

MOPSU S.

Shepherd, to this Discourse, here put an end,
This is the Cave, fit and my Verse attend.

When the fad Fate of Daphnis reach'd their Ears,
The pitying Nymphs diffolv'd in pious Tears.
Witness, you Hazels, for you heard their Cries,
Witness, you Floods, fwoln with their weeping Eyes.
The mournful Mother (on his Body caft)
The fad remains of her cold Son embrac'd,

And of th' unequal Tyranny they us’d,

The cruel Gods and cruel Stars accus'd.

Then did no Swain mind how his Flock did thrive,
Nor thirsty Herds to the cold River drive;
The generous Horse turn'd from fresh Streams his
And on the sweetest Grafs refus'd to feed. [Head,
Daphnis, thy death, even fierceft Lions mourn'd,
And Hills and Woods their cries and groans return’d.
Daphnis Armenian Tygers fierceness broke,
And brought 'em willing to the facred Yoke:
Daphnis to Bacchus Worship did ordain

The Revels of his confecrated Train;

The Reeling Priests with Vines and Ivy crown'd,
And their long Spears with clufter'd Branches bound,
As Vines the Elm, as Grapes the Vine adorn,
As Bulls the Herd, as Fields the ripen'd Corn;
Such Grace, fuch Ornament wert thou to all
That glory'd to be thine: Since thy fad Fall,
No more Apollo his glad prefence yields,
And Pales felf forfakes her hated Fields.
Oft where the finest Barley we did fow,
Barren Wild-Oates, and hurtful Darnel grow;
And where soft Violets did the Vales adorn,
The Thistle rifes and the prickly Thorn. [ground,
Come Shepherds, ftrow with Flow'rs the hallow'd
The facred Fountains with thick Boughs furround;
Daphnis thefe Rites requires: to Daphnis' Praise
Shepherds a Tomb with this Infcription raise,

Here fam'd from Earth to Heaven I Daphnis lie;
Fair was the Flack I fed, but much more fair was le
MENAL CAS.

Such, divine Poet, to my ravish'd Ears

Are the fweet numbers of thy mournful Verse,
As to tir'd Swains foft flumbers on the Grafs;
As freshest Springs that through green Meadows pass,
To one that's patch'd with thirst and summer's heat.
In thee thy Mafter does his Equal meet:
Whether your Voice you try, or tune your Reed,
Bleft Swain, 'tis you alone can him fucceed!