Convinc'd that he was conquer'd is a very quaint Phrase What madness could Provoke a mortal Man t' invade a sleeping God! Mr. D. tacks this to his Author and with his usual Success for Aristaeus was a God too tho a Shepherd as his Father had been he was as Honourably descended as Proteus himself and invok'd as a God by Virgil in the beginning of his Georgics Aristaeus's answer is in Virgil so apposite and lively in the Translation so dilute and insipid that it 's intolerable to Compare 'em but who would think that Aristaeus meant his Bees by his perish'd People Qu. Whether Ante Pedes signifies At her Heels The Realms of Mars remurmur'd all around What Realms were they After abundance of extravagant additions to his Author to show the Luxuriancy of his vanity he adds He prays he raves all means in vain he tries With rage enflam'd astonish'd with surprize But she return'd no more to bless his longing Eyes But we must remember it 's Mr. D's Orpheus not Virgil's of whom these things are said In the leaky Sculler i. e. I suppose in Charon's lap for the Boat is the Scull the Waterman who rows is the Sculler as Mr. D. may learn every day at the Water-side Whoever pleases to read Virgil's Latine in this Similitude of the Nightingale with Mr. D's Version will soon be sick of the latter or else must have a very mean taste of Poetry Alone he tempts the Floods c. Virgil Solus lustrabat quam bene conveniunt On the glad Earth the Golden Age renews And his great Fathers path to Heaven pursues This is one of Mr. D's Interpolations and what it means is not very plain If by Augustus's Father he means Iulius Caesar his History's but indifferent and no body ever pass'd that complement on Iulius Caesar That he had restor'd the Golden Age or had much cultivated the Arts of Peace Octavius did so indeed but that was not pursuing his Father's way in short Mr. D. abuses 'em both by affixing inconsistent Characters on them and his Author by presuming to teach him how to Court his Patrons THus Sir at your Desire I have gone thro' the Eclogues and Georgics as Translated by Mr. D. and have been sufficiently weary'd with the Task I won't pretend to have been infallible in all my Observations but as I think I have rarely charg'd him where he was not guilty so I can easily satisfie him or you that I let many pass only because they were too thick and none can pass a Rational Censure on them who reads not Virgil's Original and Mr. D's and these Remarks together The Aeneids I design not to meddle with at present tho the Faults in them are innumerable and such as convince me that Mr. D. either did not or would not understand his Author After all I 'm not the Translator's enemy but a Lover of Virgil for whom if by showing the Errors of this Translation I could procure an accurate one I should think this time well spent I cannot bear to see the best Poets either Sacred or Profane Burlesqu'd or abus'd and it 's no ill Nature but Zeal for their Honour which makes me turn Critic and I must thank Mr. D. that his Mistakes have given me an opportuntiy to dive farther into Virgil's meaning and to admire his beauties more than I had ever done before If I have turn'd Mr. D's harsh words sometimes upon himself he may remember that besides his Brother Poets he never spar'd a Clergy-Man which perhaps might make the Hands the rougher of Your Humble Servant The I. Book of Virgil's Georgics made English WHat makes the richest Tilth beneath what Signs To Plough and when to match your Elms and Vines What care with Flocks and what with Herds agrees And all the management of frugal Bees I sing Maecenas Ye immensely clear Vast Orbs of Light which guide the rolling Year Bacchus and Mother Ceres if by you We fatning Corn for hungry Mast pursue If taught by you we first the cluster prest And thin cold streams with spritely juice refresht Ye Fawns the present Numens of the Field Wood Nymphs and Fawns your kind assistance yield Your gifts I sing And thou at whose fear'd stroke From rending Earth the fiery Courser broke Great Neptune O assist my artful Song And thou to whom the Woods and Groves belong Whose Snowy Heifers on her flowry Plains In mighty Herds the Caean Isle maintains Pan happy Shepherd if thy cares Divine E'er to improve thy Moenalus incline Leave thy Lycaean Wood and Native Grove And with thy lucky smiles our work approve Be Pallas too sweet Oils Inventor kind And he who first the crooked Plough design'd Sylvanus God of all the Woods appear whose Hands a new drawn tender Cypress bear Ye Gods and Goddesses who e'er with Love Would guard our Pastures and our Fields improve You who new Plants from unsown Lands supply And with condensing Clouds obscure the Sky And drop 'em softly thence in fruitfull Showers Assist my Enterprize ye gentler Powers And thou great Caesar Tho we know not yet Among what Gods thou'lt fix thy lofty Seat VVhether thou 'lt be the kind Tutelar God Of thy own Rome or with thy awfull nod Guide the vast VVorld while thy great Hand shall bear The Fruits and Seasons of the turning Year And thy bright Brows thy Mother's Myrtles wear Whether thou 'lt all the boundless Ocean sway And Sea-men only to thy self shall pray Thule the Farthest Island kneel to thee And that thou may'st her Son by Marriage be Tethys will for the happy Purchase yield To make a Dowry of her watry Field Whether thou 'lt add to Heaven a brighter Sign And o'er the Summer Months serenely shine VVhere between Cancer and Erigone There yet remains a spacious Room for thee Where the hot Scorpion too his Arms declines And more to thee than half his Arch resigns VVhat e'er thou'lt be for sure the Realms below No just pretence to thy Command can show No such Ambition sways thy vast desires Tho Greece her own Elysian Fields admires And now at last contented Proserpine Can all her Mother's earnest Prayers decline What e'er thou'lt be O guide our gentle course And with thy smiles our bold attempts enforce With me th' unknowing Rustics wants relieve And tho on Earth our sacred vows receive In early Spring when first the melting Snow Begins from Mountains hoary tops to flow And western Gales dissolve the Frozen Soil Then let my Bullocks first begin their toil Groan at the weighty Plough and make the Share VVith constant work a chearful brightness wear That Soil must gratifie the greediest Swains VVhich Summer twice and Winter twice sustains Ground turn'd so much with heavy Crops defies Barns narrow walls and in huge Stacks must rise But e'er the Plough a Field unpractis'd tries First let 's observe beneath what VVinds it lies VVhat Air it 's in hot dry or moist
Tropics Or whoever call'd the Zodiac a sloping way But Poëtis quid libet audendi shall be Mr. D's Motto tho it should reach to picking of Pockets Two Poles turn round the Globe For The Globe truns round two Poles A very pretty Figure in English And I question whether the Snake or Dragon glides round the Pole tho Mr. D. makes Virgil say so nolens volens The Bears are not by the Poets said to abhor the Sea but to be forbidden it at Iuno's request and Virgil makes 'em still afraid of her jealousie and consequently of setting in it And when on us she breaths the living Light Can never be scrued out of Virgil's aut ubi primus equis Oriens afflavit anhelis The Tapers of the Night A Phrase borrow'd out of the English Parnassus Or when to fell the Furzes We sometimes talk of felling Timber but never of Furzes before they are obliged to Mr. D. for the Honour he has done ' em And spread the flying Canvas for the Fleet. What is there in that of Virgil or of tolerable sence or expression And what Stars arise how extreamly fine Had poor Elkanah talk'd so he 'd have heard of it on both sides his Head but dat veniam corvis Let him forecast his work Maturare is not to forecast but to act deliberatly and do that throughly which when fair weather calls the Husbandman abroad must have been huddled up in hast and in a worse fashion and this Mr. D. could not but see by the work mention'd in the next lines the shining share he is very fond of Or aire the Corn Or grinded Grain between two Marbles turn Besides that very modish word grinded where does Virgil talk of airing the Corn Ruaeus would have taught him better sence and his own little might have taught him that cold wet weather was not fit for that work And where did Mr. D. ever read of Marble Mill-stones for those I suppose he means And if the Grain be grinded what need it be turn'd between the Marbles Could Mr. D. read Virgil and Translate it thus The Meads to water For Rivos deducere Translated the clean contrary way And steep In wholsome Water-falls the woolly Sheep But why in Water-falls Are those proper washing places Does any Body ever wash Sheep just below London-bridge And pray how long must a woolly Sheep lie a-steep in the Water-fall before he 's drown'd For I never heard of any living thing steep'd for a cure Pale Pluto An Epithet no way belonging to him who is every where represented as black indeed Commentators very ridiculously make Orcus here to signifie Plato And so a day unlucky as 't was the Birth-day of a God and one of the first rank too which is absurd but Orcus means the Hell of the Poets such as Virgil describes in his 6th Aeneid and even Christians themselves could they assign it might esteem that day accurs'd which first kindled the flames of eternal Hell And arm'd against the Skies the Sons of Earth Virgil says no such thing he says only the Giants were born on that day not that they made their attempt on Heaven as soon as they were born or watcht for their Birth-days return as a lucky time to begin a Rebellion in To scale the steepy battlements of Jove Is a very odd way of speaking the battlements of Heaven some have by too bold a figure talkt of but none of Iove before our Poetical Enceladus Then Weavers stretch your stays upon the weft If it were not meer Iargonry would be Nuts to the Spittle-field-Weavers and they 'd buy Mr. D's Virgil rather than Gadbury or Patridge if his Rule would hold good Virgil advises like one who understands business to mow stubble or Haulm in the Night or before Sun-rise not because of coolness or rain which would make mowing very uncomfortable but because of the dew which following the Scyth makes it work the better Mr. D. has quit lost the Rule To work by Night and rake the Winter fire i. e. they rake up the fire in a Winter Night and then set up to work til Cock-crowing a very pretty way to keep themselves warm but none of the best Husbandry or Housewifry for those must go to bed sooner who work all day hard and must rise early But what a pleasant employment Mr. D. has found for the good Man to sharpen Torches If any such Trees as they say are found under ground in Lancashire and other places were common in Italy the sharpning of Torches might mean something but Virgil means no more than making of Matches things of more use and which good Husbands and Housewives generally do at idle times Virgil's direction is lost again who tells us that the heat of the day is best to Reap in and to tread the Corn out in or to pass the Wheel over it because it then is dry and leaves the husk best for which Mr. D. only tells us of the Day light as if that were enough whether it were hot or cold or wet or dry For lazie winter numbs the labouring Hand Is a very odd reason why the Swain should Plough and Sow naked but Virgil teaches him not to be afraid of stripping to work in Summer that his work may be the sooner over for winter or cold weather 's no proper time for such work The four lines are good but not Virgil's nor much better as I take it For Mast of Oak your Fathers homely Food True but why that here They are advis'd to beat down Mast for their Swine not for their own eating And so hunt the Hare What when the fleecy Snow new cloaths the wood Which by the way is as meer Fustian as any thing in Silvester's Dubartas Huntsmen will tell him there 's no hunting when the Snow lies upon the Ground but it 's tracing Hares which our Poet means which Farmers are more us'd to than hunting as they are more us'd to Slings than Bows which is Mr. D's own silly Invention Now sing we stormy Stars when Autumn weighs the Year Who could imagine that Mr. D. had consider'd his Author Or where can Virgil afford so fine a Thought as that last In the whole Account of the storms in Spring and Harvest Ogylby out-does Mr. D. in representing Virgil's Thoughts as far as Mr. D. would pretend to out-do honest Vicars The Farmer now secure of fear Sends in the Swains to spoil the finish'd Year What fear does Mr. D. mean which the Farmer should be secure of Not to take notice of the senceless Latinism he 'd do well to tell us in the next Edition but for sence sake who ever before our Rhymer call'd Reaping spoiling of the finish'd Year the two next lines are his own and tend much to the eclaircissement of the Matter And whirl'd aloft the lighter stubble born With such a force the flying
the toiling Steers Then some fair Beech or Teil in season fell Which for a lightsome Yoke and Staff excell And for a Plough-Stail take a smoke-dry'd Oak To check the Wheels and guide the Coulters stroke Here could I many ancient Rules declare Unless you scorn the Countries meaner care To make your Barn a solid Floor assume Forge Dust and common Earth and binding Loom Temper and mix 'em well till firmer grown You roll 'em level with a pondrous Stone Then won't it crumble nor the creeping weed Nor other Pests of Corn about it breed Else Mice in it and Rats will build their Nests And plenty fill the little progging Beasts There dark Ey'd Moles will cast and loathsome Toads Lurk in their holes and Vermin swarm by loads Weevils the largest heaps of Grain infest And Ants with fears of future wants possest Then watch the time when budding Almonds show And tender Twigs with fragrant Blossoms bow If thick the Fruit and thin the Leaves appear 'T will prove a sultry but a plenteous Year But if the Leaves above the Fruit abound The Sheaves will be but lank and empty found I 've seen the subtle Farmer wisely sure His Seed with Lees of Oil and Nitre cure That Art your Seed in weight and bulk improves And all the Vermin of the Field removes But when it 's nicely cull'd and plump and fair And steep'd and warm'd with all his utmost care 'T will soon degenerate till with Art renew'd Cull'd o'er and still with double care pursu'd Thus all things suffer in their fatal course Change every day and every day grow worse So when a Man with restless toils and pains Rows up the Stream and ground but slowly gains If he but slacks his Arms a while he 's gone And in the rapid Stream is hurry'd head-long down Besides the Farmer with a curious Eye Should watch the various motions of the Sky On Charles's Wain his Observations make And on the rising Kids and glittering Snake As those who venture on a stormy Sea And near Abydos take their dangerous way When Libra balances the Day with Night And parts the Globe with equal shades and light Then Yoke your Oxen Swains your Barly sow Till Winter's cold extream and churlish grow Then Harrow in your Flax and Poppy-seed And ply your busie Ploughs with early speed Sow Beans in Spring and in a mellow Soil Clover and Millet ask your Annual toil When first bright Taurus's Golden Horns appear And setting Sirius shows the rising Year But if with Ryes and Wheats you 'll sow the Field And none but Grains which solid substance yield First let the Pleiades a Mornings set And the bright Crown before the Sun retreat Before you sow or trust the Field Manur'd With all those hopes your yearly toils ensur'd Some can't indeed for the right season stay Whose greedy hopes as wretched Crops repay But if you 'd common Tares or Vetches sow Or any pains on Egypts Pulse bestow Bootes set the proper season shows And the wise Swain from thence to middle Winter sows The Times and Seasons that we thus might know The Sphere by certain Lines is parted so That thro' Twelve Heavenly Signs the Golden Sun Might Yearly with commanding Influence run Five Climates the superiour Skies divide One with eternal heats and scorchings fry'd From which the two extreams on either Hand Horrid with Ice and gloomy Tempests stand The Two between Ioves condescending Grace Made Habitable for our Mortal Race Thro' them the Zodiack cuts its Oblique way Whence Twelve bright Signs the lower World survey And since to us the Scythian Mountains rise Beneath our feet the Southern Circle lies O'er us the Freezing Constellations roll And our Horizon views the Northern Pole The Southern sinks to those dark deeps below Where Ghosts reside and Stygian waters flow O'er us the monstrous winding Serpent glides And like some Flood the neighbouring Bears divides The Bears by jealous Iuno's fury scar'd And from the cooling Oceans waves debar'd Some think there Reigns impenetrable Night And Clouds repell the smallest Gleams of light Or that with us when chearful Light decays There Phosphorus his Morning Beams displays And the gay Sun 's hot Car that Hemisphere surveys Hence we before the various seasons know And when to Reap the Fields and when to Sow When with our nimble Boats at Sea to ply Where Warlike Fleets with Canvas Wings may fly When Timber may be kindly fell'd and be From Sap and penetrating Vermin free Nor do we watch the moving Signs in vain How they alike thro all the Quarters Reign When Frost and Storm the busie Swain confines He then at leisure various Works designs At leisure ends which in a clearer Sky He 'd hurry o'er or too confus'dly ply One Plates anew or files his blunted Shares Or for his Cattel hollow Troughs prepares Brands them or Figures out his Sacks for Corn Another sharpens Stakes or Forks if worn Makes ready Twigs with which his Vines he binds Or nimble Skeps with pliant Osiers winds Then 's time to grind your Corn your Batch to bake Some Liberties on Holy-days we take Some work all Laws of Gods and Men permit On those great Days no wise Religion yet Forbad the Boor his flooded Fields to drein Or mend his Fences to secure his Grain To burn the Thorns or greedy Birds t' allure Or sickly Sheep in wholsom Streams to cure Oft too he drives his slow-pac'd Ass to Town With Oil or mellow Apples loaded down Which there he trucks for necessary things And Pitch and Rosin home and Mill-stones brings The Silver Moon too with her powerful Rays Marks out th' unlucky and auspicious Days On her Fifth Day ne'er stir the Fruitful Earth Then Hell and Hellish Furies took their Birth On that curst Day Earth with a hideous roar Caeus Briareus and Typhoeus bore At Heavens bright Realms the Brother monsters flew And Ossa thrice on staggering Pelion threw Thrice huge Olympus from the Centre torn Was to the top of groaning Ossa born Thrice angry Iove impetuous Lightnings hurl'd Rush'd down the three-pil'd Hills and save the Starry World Next to the Tenth the Seventh's a Lucky Day To prove your Bullocks and your Vines to lay Or warp your Pieces on the Ninth you 'll be Safe in your Journeys and from Padders free Some Business in the Night may best be done Or e'er the Dawn leads up the rising Sun Night's best to Cut your Haum your Meads to Mow While to the Scythe the dewy Vapours flow I' th' Chimney Corner one a Winter Nights Makes Matches while his Wife with Songs delights His Ears and makes the chearful hours consume Or with her nimble Shuttle plies the Loom Else he boils up his Must with gentle Fire And makes superfluous Particles retire And ever as the rising scum appears He with a Bough the foaming Copper clears But Mid-days heat best reaps the burden'd Fields And Mid-days heat the fairest Flooring yields Sow then and Plow when the
Paraphrase looks like one of Mrs. Behns when some body had turn'd the Original into English Prose before Where Virgil says Lauri myricae flevêre the Figures beautiful where Mr. D. says the Laurel stands in Tears And hung with humid Pearls the lowly Shrub appears the Figure is lost and a foolish and impertinent Representation comes in its place an ordinary Dewy Morning might fill the Laurels and Shrubs with Mr. D's Tears tho' Gallus had not been concern'd in it And yet the Queen of Beauty blest his Bed Here Mr. D. comes with his ugly patch upon a beautiful Face What had the Queen of Beauty to do here Lycoris did not despise her Lover for his meanness but because she had a mind to be a Catholick Whore Gallus was of Quality but her Spark a poor inferior Fellow And yet the Queen of Beauty c. would have followed there very well but not where want on Mr. D. has fixt her Flush'd were his Cheeks and glowing were his Eyes This Character is fitter for one that 's Drunk than one in an Amazement and is a Thought unbecoming Virgil. And for thy Rival tempts the raging Sea The forms of horrid War and Heavens Inclemency Lycoris doubtless was a jilting Bagage but why should Mr. D. belye her Virgil talks nothing of her going to Sea and perhaps she had a mind to be only a Camp Laundress which Office she might be advanc'd to without going to Sea The forms of horrid War for horrida castra is incomparable His Brows a Country Crown of Fennel and of nodding Lilies drown Is a very odd Figure Sylvanus had swinging Brows to drown such a Crown as that i. e. to make it Invisible to swallow it up if it be a Country Crown drown his Brows it 's false English The Meads are sooner drunk with Morning Dews Rivi signifies no such thing but then that Bees should be drunk with Flowry Shrubs or Goats be drunk with Brouze for Drunk's the Verb is a very quaint Thought So sad a Song is only worthy you Is a most exact Translation of soli cantare periti Arcades which no body can deny Tho Phyllis 's brown c. Is all so silly and beside the Cushion and the last so lewd and unbecoming Virgil 's Chastity and Modesty as is unpardonable As you are Beauteous were you half so true Here could I Live and Love and only Dye with you Virgil makes not Gallus talk so dubiously he 's fond of Lycoris and is for Dying with her without reserve if she were but with him he 'd be satisfied without so nice an inquisition into her Loyalty The latter Line I 'm afraid was borrow'd from an Ode in the Gentleman's Iournal And strive in Winter Camps Gallus talks of no such things Those are not Limbs for Icicles to tear How delicate or course soever the Limbs of Lycoris might be Icicles seldom tear 'em I have heard indeed of one whose Throat was cut with an Icicle but never of any rent or torn with them And as the Rind extends No it should be as the Letters extend and grow larger on the Rind so let our Loves increase Is turning Virgil into Ovid and running looser than Ovid himself would do Or Italy 's indulgent Heaven forego What had Italy to do here Or where would Mr. D. fix his Scene In Hell and Earth and Seas and Heaven above Is all Tautology when that best Translated Line in all the Eclogues follows Love Conquers all and we must yield to Love the precedent Line was only for convenience of Rhyme The Song because inspir'd by you shall shine And Gallus will approve because 't is mine Which is a Conclusion not agreeable to Virgil's modesty and far from Vos haec facietis maxima Gallo As Alders in the Spring their Boles extend And heave so fiercely that the Bark they rend Is meer Fustian and false in Thought and Resemblance and false in Fact and absurd in Expression That Mr. Dryden might be satisfied that I 'd offer no foul Play nor find Faults in him without giving him an opportunity of Retaliation I have subjoin'd another Metaphrase or Translation of the I. and IV. Pastoral which I desire may be read with his by the Original Tityrus ECLOGUE I. Melib. BEneath a spreading Beech you Tityrus lie And Country Songs to humble Reeds apply We our sweet Fields our Native Country fly We leave our Country you in Shades may lie And Amaryllis Fair and Blithe Proclaim And make the Woods repeat her buxom Name Ti. O Melibaeus 't was a bounteous God These Peaceful Play-days on our Muse bestow'd At least he'st alway be a God to me My Lambs shall oft his grateful Offerings be Thou seest he lets my Herds securely stray And me at Pleasure on my Pipe to play Me. Your Peace I don 't with Looks of Envy view But I admire your happy state and you In all our Farms severe Distraction reigns No ancient Owner there in peace remains Sick I with much ado my Goats can drive This Tityrus I scarce can lead alive On the bare Stones among yon Hazles past Just now alas her hopeful Twins she cast Yet had not all on 's dull and senseless been We'd long agon this coming Stroke forseen Oft did the blasted Oakes our Fate unfold And boding Coughs from hollow Trees foretold But say good Tityrus tell me who 's the God Who Peace so lost to us on you bestow'd Ti. Troth Melibaeus I a Homespun Clown Thought that call'd Rome just like our Neighbouring Town Where Thou and I were wont to drive our Sheep And Mercats with our Suckling Lambs to keep So little Whelps like bigger Dogs I 'd known Kids like their Dams but not so largely grown Thus little Things I 'd oft with Great compare But Rome o'er-tops all other Towns as far As Cypress Groves the Fields of bending Brome Me. But what great cause could make you visit Rome Ti. Sweet Liberty which as I lazing lay Look'd on my Dullness with a Gracious Ray Smil'd on a Head just white with Aged Snow And came at last tho all her Steps were slow Nor have I sigh'd for Galatea more Since Amaryllis in my Heart I wore It 's true while fast in Galatea's Chain My Liberty I little hop'd to gain Unwash'd my Flocks my Herd at random stray'd And tho I all my Offerings duely paid With Cheese of purest Cream I still might come Empty from her ingrateful Mercats home Me. Oft had I wondr'd Galatea why Thou Prayd'st to Heaven with such a doleful cry I wonder'd oft the meaning why so long Thy Apples on the Trees ungather'd hung 'T was all for Tityrus their absent Lord The Groves the Springs the very Shrubs deplor'd Ti. What should I do I could not break my Chain Nor Gods so good in all our Country Gain But here my Friend I saw that Youth Divine To whom each Month my
grateful Altars shine His Oracle that God-like Language spoke Feed on your Bullocks Lads your Oxen Yoke Me. Happy old Man you then your Farm may keep Lands large enough tho craggy part and steep And slimy Marrome all the Marshes spread Your Flocks may be in usual Pastures fed No scabby Neighbours shall disturb them there Nor they a taint from their Infection fear Happy old Man Cool gentle Breezes you Here by known Streams and Sacred Springs pursue You Sallow Hedge which parts the Neighbouring Field Will to your Bees abundant Pastures yield Drawn by whose pretty murmurs silent Sleep Oft o'er your weary Eyes will calmly creep From Bushy Rocks the Linet sweetly sing Whose Notes to you the Tuneful Air shall bring While your lov'd Cooing Stock-Doves round you groan And from the lofty Elm the sighing Turtles moan Ti. First then shall Stags along the Welkin feed Or flying Seas desert their scaly Breed The wandring Parthian first shall drink the Soan And Germany on Tigris Banks be shown Each Nation thro' the others Bounds shall fly E'er his lov'd Image in my Breast shall die Me. But we alas the World must wander o'er Some to the farthest Africk's thirsty Shore Or toward Inhospitable Scythia's Cold Or where Oaxis rapid Streams are roll'd Nay some quite thrust from all our civil World Must on the savage British Coasts be hurl'd Ah! Could I hope when tedious years are past To see my lov'd my Native Soil at last Once more my poor Thatch'd Cottage Roofs admire And ne'er to greater Royalties aspire Must barbarous Troops our labour'd Tilth employ Curst Souldiers all our hopeful Crops enjoy See what sad Fruits our Civil Discord yields For whose blest use we Till'd our fruitful Fields Go Wretch Ah could it be in artful Lines Go Graft thy Pears and Prune thy stragling Vines Be gone my once dear happy Flock be gone No more shall I in mossy Grotts alone Streak out at ease and see you clambring go Hang o'er the Rocks and crop the Shrubs below No more alass you 'll hear my Country Strains No more be fed by me along the Plains Nor shall I lead where Milkie Trefoil grows Nor where you'd on the bitter Sallows browze Ti. Yet here however Lodge with me to Night I can but to a Leavy Couch invite I 've mellow Fruit and downy Chesnuts here Green Cheese and such make up our Country Cheer And see yon Village Chimnies smoaking all And longer Shadows nor from lofty Mountains fall PASTORAL IV. Or Pollio A Poem rising somewhat above the Shepherd 's Strein and somewhat imitated in the Translation TAke now my Rustic Muse a Nobler flight All won't in Trees and lowly Shrubs delight If Woods we 'll sing those very Woods must be Advanc'd to suit a Consul's Dignity Now the Cumaean Prophecy's fullfill'd And rolling Years more happy Ages yield Now comes the Virgin whose soft Smiles presage Another Saturn's Reign a Golden Age. Now from kind Heaven descends a God-like Race May thy chast Hands the coming Infant grace In whose blest Times Hell 's stubborn Brood shall cease And Heavenly Virtue fill the World with Peace His Birth Lucina's greatest Work remains Be kind in him thy own Apollo Reigns Since Pollio thy auspicious Year came in The glorious Age the mighty Months begin If any taint of former Guilt remains Thy happy Hand shall Purge the Crimson Stains The World no more their black Effects shall fear When thou thy Standard in their Front shalt rear He 'll live a God and Saints and Angels see And he again their dearest Object be And with his Father's Might immensely Crown'd The World he 'll manage in a Peace profound To thee sweet Boy the Soil untill'd shall bring And at thy Feet her little Beauties fling Fox-Gloves and creeping Ivy every where And Niles gay Bean with smiling Iasmines bear Flocks scarce shall drag their weighty Vdders home And Herds unscar'd by Lions freely roam Thy Cradle shall with fragrant Blossoms spring The Poisonous Serpent loose her fatal Sting No Venome more shall Iuicy Plants disclose And every Hedge shall bear the Syrian Rose But as the Youth his mighty Fathers Deeds The Heroes praise and Virtues Nature reads The Self-sown Crop shall load the ripening Field And roughest Thorns their purple Clusters yield The hardest Oaks shall sweat with tastful Dew And Honey still the Golden Drops renew Yet shall some steps of ancient Frauds remain And some shall try the rolling Seas again Some shall their Towns with lofty Walls surround And some with Furrows break the harmless Ground Tiphys shall live and Argo float again And waft selected Heroes o'er the Main New Wars shall rise and great Achilles rage Once more against the Trojan Walls ingage But when firm Age thy Manly strength shall show The daring Sailor shall the Seas forego Merchants shall send abroad their Ships no more But every thing shall every Country store Untill'd the Corn unprun'd the Vines shall grow Rough Hinds discharge their Bullocks from the Plough No artful Colours shall the Wool disguise But on the Rams a lovely Purple rise A deep laid Crimson all their Fleeces line And sucking Lambs with Native Scarlet shine May such blest Ages from our Distaff flow The Fates with one Consent determine so And cry'd So ever happy ever go Off-spring of Heaven great Iove's immortal Son It 's time to put thy destin'd Honours on See the vast World beneath its Pressures reel Seas Earth and Heaven the strong Convulsions feel Look yet again on Natures smiling Face How All with Ioys the rising Age embrace O might I live but long enough to raise Notes fit to sing thy Acts unbounded praise Then Thracian Orpheus Linus then shall yield And to my nobler Muse resign the Field Tho here the Mother there the lovely Sire Calliope and Phaebus raise the Fire And Orpheus she and he his Linus breast inspire Should Pan himself attempt my soaring Muse And for his Iudge his dear Arcadia chuse Pan in his lov'd Arcadia's sense should be And in his own inferior far to me Begin sweet Babe thy Sacred Birth to show And with soft smiles thy lovely Mother know For thee her Womb ten tedious Months before Ten tedious Months the Qualms of Breeding bore But where no Ioy the cloudy Parent shews That Child his Guest no favouring God will chuse And every Goddess will his luckless Bed refuse Notes on the Georgics VIrgil's Georgics are call'd by Mr. Dryden The best Poem of the best Poet. Of his own performance he says in this what 's true of all the rest I have too much injur'd my great Author I would have Translated him but fear according to the literal French and Italian Phrases I have traduced him and this Acknowledgment is true for never was Poet so abus'd nor Mankind so impos'd on by a Name before Virgil I know is not the easiest Author in the World to Interpret But Veteranes in Poetry at least should have sence enough to
not Virgil's Recipe and any Country Housewife could have taught him that Balm and Hony-wort are the proper Herbs to daub a Hive with not the Ground to which you 'll draw the Swarm and so our Botanists interpret Melisphylla and Cerinthe And mix with tinkling Brass the Cymbal's droning found is a very singular way of speaking Should these have been beaten and pounded too Streight to their ancient Cells recall'd from air The reconcil'd Deserters will repair what a strange Idaea has the Translator of the management of Bees House-wives will tell him they don't try to reduce the Swarms to the old but to new Hives The old stock turn 'em out for want of room and they put 'em into new-Hives to increase 'em so that I have known an old stock in a kindly Year throw out two good Swarms and a Cast which makes 'em multiply apace else the smothering of their Bees which is easier than driving would quickly ruin the Bee-Merchant With shouts the Cowards courage they excite Here Mr. D. enlarges violently and gives us a glorious Representation of the Bee-war far beyond his Author and yet methinks Virgil talks very handsomly too but he knew not any thing of the shouting of Bees nor could he distinguish which of the Bees were Foot which Horse and which Dragoons nor between the Light Horse and those heavy Arm'd nor had he any notice of an Order of Knighthood among 'em and knew nothing of the Bannerets these have been discoveries of later Ages and Mr. D. has honour'd us with a very exact account of them Thus too he runs riot from ver 122 to 130 and beyond his Author's design carries on the Fray till it 's scarce worth while to part ' em But if one only can reign What will become of our new Republicans And like their grizly Prince appears his gloomy Race As if all the rest of the Bees were bred by him which is much to his Honour But we may observe Mr. D. here talks of the Lawful King and some Usurper Virgil makes that Lawful King meerly Elective at the will of the Bee-Master whose Judgment interposing quite beside any Right of Succession makes a Lawful when a good and abdicates an ill-look'd i. e. a bad King I would not have Mr. D. misapply it but it gives us a somewhat particular notion of Legal Royalty Qu. Whether Falx saligna signifies a Lath-Sword And tame to Plums the sourness of the Sloes This is such a piece of Husbandry and Elegancy and rises so naturally from Virgil's words as may be justly admir'd but is really inimitable it 's a way of meliorating Fruits by Graffing beyond any Experiments of my Lord Bacon Nor less valuable is that Each has a certain home a several stall All is the States the State provides for all Ver. 228. Which savours too much of Republicanism Some o'er the Public Magazine preside is a Thought so extreamly ridiculous as none but Mr. D. could have stumbl'd on nor could any but he have dreamt of Bees making use of Narcissus leaves in building of their Combs Some nurse the future Nation of the Hive Virgil says Aliae spem gentis adultos Educunt foetus This looks as if it had another meaning but Ruaeus interprets it just as wisely as Mr. D. and both without any reason when the true sence is Some lead out and exercise the young Bees i. e. that they may know how and where to feed themselves to work and to gather Honey and Wax against the time they 're to set up for themselves And this is proper to be done for the Foetus adulti who are past Nursing when call'd by that name and every Body must know the difference between Educere and Educare Some Purge the Grout I confess my ignorance of what Mr. D. means by that Employment Virgil forgot it and I have not Butler by me but upon this I find our Translator fell fast asleep and quite slipt those admirable Lines Sunt quibus ad Portas cecidit custodia sorti Inque vicem speculantur aquas nubila Coeli Aut onera accipiunt venientum What if they were thus Translated Some by their Lots before the Portal ply Some view the Clouds and watch the changing Sky Unload their weary'd Mates and jointly strive From lazy Drones to clear the thrifty Hive But for the Bees being stung with Envy and therefore I suppose working the harder it 's the Genuine Product of Mr. D's own Brain Subdu'd in Fire the Stubborn Metal lies is neither Poetical nor proper English nor telerable sence nor does the Translator mend in those Huge flakes of flames expire With Tongs they turn the Steel and vex it in the Fire And when he tells us the Employment of the Elder Bees he 's as ridiculous as possible but he 's beyond measure exact in the Names of Plants and Flowers which his Author mentions and those two The hollow murmurs of their Evening Bells Dismiss the sleepy Swains and toll 'em to their Cells ver 276. are Originals Their modest Appetites is Grammar but Their Heroic Mind Their strength are false English and to talk of their not using Woman-kind is absurd and the rage of Honey ver 299. is a Nonsensical Latinism The King presides c. are all impertinent and silly Excursions an affectation of fine Thoughts without reason and without any Countenance of his Author And kindles as he goes is what I can make no sence of if it refer to God here made the Soul of the World He kindles must be understood passively for he is kindled and what sence it will have then I know not if it refers to the several parts of the Creation it must mean his influence kindles them in an active sence which is an odd way of speaking and would require a larger Commentary then I 'm at leisure for it may be this Translation may express Virgil's meaning more clearly Such wondrous Signs and Instances of old Made Men renown'd for Sacred Wisdom hold That Bees were by Ethereal Fires enflam'd And Portions of th' eternal Essence claim'd God might thro all the parts of Nature move Thro Earth and Seas and Heavens vast Orbs above Hence Flocks Herds Men and all the Savage Crew Their Lives from that Immortal Substance drew All when dissolv'd to this return at last Not into nothings Inexistence cast But live the Life of Stars are always bright And always beam'd with indefective Light When their Quire surveys The Scorpion mend his pace such English as a Man would hardly look for from a Master of our Language And break the Waxen Walls to save the State Virgil says Take away the empty Combs to prevent Vermin harbouring in ' em And here he pursues a Metaphor till it grows nauseous Or Wasps infest the Camp Every Dictionary I believe would have satisfied Mr. D. that Crabrones are Hornets not Wasps These four lines
when the Season's dry They with the changing Weather change their Sense And flying Clouds their Bosoms influence Hence thro the Fields we hear the chearful Quire The joyous Ravens croakes the Cattels freaks admire If from the rapid Sun your Rules you 'll take Or from the Moons sequacious Circles make To morrows Grey will ne'er delude your sight Nor the false Calmness of the sliding Night When first the Moon 's declining Beams renew If then her Horns obscure and gloomy shew Thick weighty Clouds are gathering in the Wind And all 's to wet by Sea and Land inclin'd But if her Cheeks a Virgin blush diffuse Winds stormy Winds the blushing Moon foreshews If four days old she brightly mounts the Skies The Farmer thence unfailing Signs descrys If bright and sharp her Silver Horns appear That and the following Days will all be clear No Winds no heavy Rains will clog the Sky But the expiring Months serenely die Then Sailors safe a shore their Vows shall pay And Offerings on the sacred Altars lay To Panope their grateful Sacrifice To Glaucus and to kind Palaemon rise Observe the Sun too watch his rising Signs And how he toward his watry Couch declines The Sun's Prognostics all are plain and clear Both when he mounts and when the Stars appear If with a spotted Limb he climbs the Skies Or Masques in Clouds or half his Beams denies Then look for Showers and for a Southern wind To Plants and Herds a moist unwholsom kind If when he rises first his languid Beams Break thro the gather'd Clouds with watry Gleams Or if the Morning leaves her Saffron Bed Her faded Cheeks with deadly paleness spread What ratling storms of Hail their looks attend What Leaves can then their tender Grapes defend Your Observations yet are surer far When down Heavens steep he drives his burning Carr His Brows oft change then with a various hue And Winds his Red and Rains his Black pursue If gloomy spots mix with his ruddy Flame All mighty Winds and mighty Rains proclaim With such a Sky I 'd never quit the shore Be drill'd to Sea or once my Boat unmoore But if his Rise unclouded Beams display And with unclouded Beams he close the Day Fear neither Rains nor Winds the North then moves Drives off the Clouds and rustles thro the Groves In short the Farmer by the Sun may know Whence Clouds will rise or gentle Gales will blow What Storms the Watry South designs to bring What Weather from the falling Night may spring For who 'd with false Prognostics charge the Sun He warns us oft of Mischiefs scarce begun Foreshows blind Insurrections unfledg'd Iarrs Fermenting Treacheries and brooding Wars He pity'd Rome when murder'd Caesar dy'd And to the World his chearful Beams deny'd Behind a gloomy Scurf obscur'd his light And Godless Men fear'd an Eternal Night 'T was then the Time when Seas and Air and Earth Contriv'd to give prodigious Monsters birth Dark Heaven on that Inhumane Action scowl'd And Dogs obscoene in every Quarter howl'd Ill-boding Schriech-Owls with their ominous Notes Scream'd thro the Day and stretch'd their fatefull Throats Hot Aetna burst his fiery bounds below And made Sicilia's Fields with Sulphur glow Made melted Rocks in livid Torrents roll And shot vast fiery Globes against the Pole Th' affrighted Germans heard the dismal sound Of clanking Arms which march'd the Welkin round The Snowy Alps with uncouth tremblings reel'd And silent Groves prodigious voices fill'd Pale meager Ghosts broke from the rending Tomb And glaring stalkt thro Nights obscurer gloom Brutes horrid strange with Humane Language spoke And staggering Earth her shattered Surface broke Swift Brooks a passage to their Streams deny'd And quite forgot the Seas attending Tide Big with their Tears the sacred Marbles stood And sweating Statues dropt a Sanguine Flood Po Prince of Streams with uncouth madness swell'd Bore down the Groves and Forests headlong fell'd At once drown'd all the Fields and Herds and Stalls Hurry'd with violent fury to his dreadfull falls Beasts Livers all with boding Lines were Vein'd And bloody Springs their Streams with Gore distain'd Th' unpeopled Streets were fill'd with hideous sounds And howling Wolves there took their Midnight rounds Lightnings n'ere shot so thick from Cloudless Skies Nor such portentous Comets plagu'd our Eyes Philippi then a griev'd Spectator stood And saw her Fields o'erflow'd with streams of Blood While Roman Troops in War with Romans clos'd And Friends their Friends with equal Arms oppos'd Heaven angry thought it worth it's while once more T' enrich the barren soils with Roman Gore To glut the wide Pharsalian Fields around And the large Plains by lofty Haemus crown'd The time shall come when as the toiling Swains With crooked Plows shall furrow up the Plains They 'll find our Spears with eating Rust consum'd And hollow Helmets long in Earth inhum'd And Pigmy Heirs shall with amazement see The mighty Bones of their Gigantic Ancestry Ye kindred Gods who o'er great Rome preside Quirinus too to all the Gods ally'd And Mother Vesta whose protecting Hand Makes Tiber flow and Rome triumphant stand O let this one this gallant Youth remain And the vast ruines of the World sustain Enough of Blood for Perjuries we 've paid To Woes by false Laomedon betray'd To us the Gods Great Caesar envy thee And all thy Triumphs here with Envy see They grudge to see a wretched Age opprest With Lawless Guilt by such a Guardian blest For all our lower World 's involv'd in Blood And horrid Sins with impious Art pursu'd The Plough lies rusting by the Soldiers scorn The Fields uncultivated wild forlorn New Swords of Scyth's the Martial Farmers make And arm'd their desolated Lands forsake Euphrates sounds with marching Troops from far And nearer Germany renews the War All Leagues are broke and Civil Wars divide Cities by all the nearest Bonds ally'd We see this All in dire confusions hurl'd And Tyrant Mars rage thro an Impious World The fiery Coursers rushing from the Stand Fly out and scorn the Charloteers command In vain he draws the Bit along the Plains The head-strong Horses scour and scorn the sounding Reins FINIS ERRATA PAge 6. line 20. for read p. 7. l. 15. after Davides l. 22. after his d p. 8. l. 4. d. the. l. 19. after for p. 19. r. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 p. 13. l. 6. r. Sinâ—â—'s p. 15. l. 25. after say add to p. 20. l. 13. r. terrat l. 18. r. subintelligitur p. 22. l. 21. r. Racer p. 23. l. 23. r. Caesâ—ra p. 28. l. 25. r. Teueros p. 38. l. 24. r. abuses p. 54. l. ult r. Pipes p. 63. l. 13. r. Gallaeus p. 101. l. 17. r. Yâ—npuâ— l. 12. r. d. good p. 111. l. 13 r. The. l. 16. f. muâ—'d r. inur'd p. 113. l. 17. f. weed r. sand p. 125. l. 25. r. turns p. 134. l. 14. f. case r. câ—re p. 138. l. 1. â—f much r. surpriz'd p. 186. l. 30. f. Heath r. Hearth p. 219.