Damætas. Ah the keen raptures! when my yielding fair Breathed her kind whispers to my ravish'd ear! Waft, gentle gales, her accents to the skies, That gods themselves may hear with sweet surprise. Menalcas. What, though I am not wretched by your scorn! Say, beauteous boy, say can I cease to mourn, If, while I hold the nets, the boar you face, And rashly brave the dangers of the chase? Damætas. Send Phyllis home, Iolas for to-day Menalcas. Phyllis I love; she more than all can charm, And mutual fires her gentle bosom warm: Tears, when I leave her, bathe her beauteous eyes; A long, a long adieu, my love!' she cries. Damætas. The wolf is dreadful to the woolly train, Menalcas. The willow's grateful to the pregnant ewes, Showers to the corns, to kids the mountain-brows; More grateful far to me my lovely boy,In sweet Amyntas centres all my joy. Damætas. Even Pollio designs to hear my rural lays; And cheers the bashful Muse with generous praise: Ye sacred Nine, for your great patron feed A beauteous heifer of the noblest breed. Menalcas. Pollio the art of heavenly song adorns ; Then let a bull be bred with butting horns, And ample front, that, bellowing, spurns the ground, Tears up the turf, and throws the sands around. Damætas. Him whom my Pollio loves may nought annoy. Menalcas. Who hates not foolish Bavius, let him love Damætas. Ye boys, on garlands who employ your care, Menalcas. Forbear, my flocks, and warily proceed, Nor on that faithless bank securely tread; The heedless ram late plunged amid the pool, And in the sun now dries his reeking wool. Damætas. Ho, Tityrus! lead back the browsing flock, Menalcas. Haste, from the sultry lawn the flocks remove Damotas. How lean my bull in yonder mead appears, Though the fat soil the richest pasture bears! Ah Love! thou reign'st supreme in every heart, Both flocks and shepherds languish with thy dart. Menalcas. Love has not injured my consumptive flocks, Yet bare their bones, and faded are their looks: What envious eye hath squinted on my dams, And sent its poison to my tender lambs? Damætas. Say in what distant land the eye descries But three short ells of all th' expanded skies? Tell this, and great Apollo be your name; Your skill is equal, equal be your fame. Menalcas. Say in what soil a wondrous flower is born, Palæmon. 'Tis not for me these high disputes to end; Each to the heifer justly may pretend. Such be their fortune, who so well can sing From love what painful joys, what pleasing torments spring. Now, boys, obstruct the course of yonder rill; The meadows have already drunk their fill. PASTORAL IV.* Pollio. SICILIAN Muse, sublimer strains inspire, The age comes on, that future age of gold Thy consulship these happy times shall prove, And man shall dread no more th' avenging doom of In this fourth pastoral no particular landscape is delineated. The whole is a prophetic song of triumph. But as almost all the images and allusions are of the rural kind, it is no less a true bucolic than the others; if we admit the definition of a pastoral, given us by an author of the first rank,+ who calls it 'A poem in which any action or passion is represented by its effects upon country life.' It is of little importance to inquire on what occasion this poem was written. The spirit of prophetic enthusiasm that breathes through it, and the resemblance it bears in many places to the oriental manner, makes it not improbable that our poet composed it partly from some pieces of ancient prophecy that might have fallen into his hands, and that he afterward inscribed it to his friend and patron Pollio, on occasion of the birth of his son Salonnius. †The author of the Rambler. The son with heroes and with gods shall shine, The blossom'd bean, and ivy's flaunting spray. But when thy father's deeds thy youth shall fire, With steady skill the bounding ship shall guide; From Colchos' shore shall waft the golden fleece; When riper years thy strengthen'd nerves shall And o'er thy limbs diffuse a manly grace, [brace, |