The idylliums of Theocritus with Rapin's discourse of pastorals / done into English.

THEOCRITUS

Idyllium I. Called Thyrsis, or 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.

A Goatherd perswades the Shepherd Thrysis to bewail Daphnis who dy'd for Love, and gives him a large Cup and Goat for a reward. The Scene Sicily, about the River Himera.

Thyrsis.

GOatherd, that Pine-tree's boughs by yonder spring In pleasing murmurs mix, and sweetly sing: And Thou doest sweetly pipe, dear charming Swain, And well deserv'st the next reward to Pan: If He must have a Kid, a Goat's Thy due, If He a Goat, a Kid belongs to You:

And that's no mean reward, for Kids are good, And till they're milkt the flesh is dainty food.

Goatherd.

And, Sheapherd, sweeter Notes thy Pipe do fill Than murmuring springs that roul from yonder hill. When Muses claim a Sheep, a Lamb's thy due; When they a Lamb, thou shalt receive a Ewe.

Thyrsis.

And will You, by the Nymphs, grant one desire, Will you to neighbouring shady banks retire, And sit and pipe? come show thy wond'rous skill, I'le thank thee for't, and feed thy Goats the while.

Goatherd.

I dare not, faith I dare not pipe at Noon, Affraid of Pan, for when his Hunting's done, And He lyes down to sleep by purling streams, He's very touchy if we break his dreams: But Thyrsis (for you know fair Daphnis pains, And singst the best of all the tuneful Swains) Let's go and sit beneath you Myrtle boughs, Where stands Priapus, and the Nymphs repose, Where thy Hut's built and many an Acorn grows, And there if thou wilt pipe as sweet a Lay

As when you strove with † 1.1 Crome and wan the day, Ile give Thee my best Goat, a lovely white; She suckles Two, yet fills Three Pails at night; Besides a Cup with sweetest Wax o're lay'd, A fine Two-handled Pot, and newly made: Still of the Tool it smells, it neatly shines, And round the brim a creeping Ivy twines With Crocus mixt; where Kids do seem to bronze, The Berryes crop, and wanton in the boughs: Within a Woman sits, a work divine, Thro envious vails her daz••ing Beauty's shine, And all around neat Woers offer Love, They strive, they quarrel, but they cannot move: Now smiling here, now there she casts her Eyes, And now to These, now Those her mind applyes: Whilst They, their Eyes swoln big with watchful pain, Still Love, still beg, but all, poor hearts, in vain. Near These a Fisher on white Rocks is set, He seems to gather up to cast his Net: He stands as labouring, and his Limbs appear All stretcht, and in his face mix hope and fear: The Nerves in's Neck are swoln, look firm and strong, All-tho He's old, and fit for one that's Young:

Next him ripe Grapes in blushing Clusters twine, And a fair Boy sits by to keep the Vine: On either side a Fox; one widely gapes, He eyes the Vines, and spoils the ripning Grapes: The other minds the Skrip, resolv'd to seize And rob the Fondling of his Bread and Cheese; Whilst He sets idly busy, neatly tyes Soft tender twigs, and frames a Net for Flyes; Pleas'd with his vain designes, a careless Boy, And more than Grapes or Skrip he minds the Toy. Round all a Creeping Woodbine doth aspire, A † 1.2 curious sight, i'me sure you must admire: 'Twas Calydons, but when he crost the Seas I bought it for a Goat, and Rammel Cheese: It never toucht my Lips, unsoild, and new, And this I freely will present to you, * 1.3 If you will sing how in the shady Grove Young Daphnis pin'd, and how He dy'd for Love. I am in Earnest, I will love Thee long, And surely mind the favour of thy song.

Thyrsis.

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the rural song:

'Tis Thyrsis song, Thyrsis from Aetna came, † 1.4 Sweet is his voice, and sounding as his fame: Where were you Nymphs? Where did the Nymphs reside, Where were you then when Daphnis pin'd and dy'd? On Pindus Top, or Tempe's open plain? Where careless Nymphs forgetful of the Swain? For not one Nymph by swift Asopus stood, Nor Aetnas Cliff, nor Acis sacred flood.

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue. Begin, sweet Muse, begin the Rural Song:

For him the Woolves, the Pards, and Tigers moan'd, For Him with frightful grief the Lions groan'd:

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the Rural Song.

A thousand Heifers, Bulls, and Cows, and Steers Lay round his feet, and melted into Tears:

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the Rural Song.

First Hermes came, and with a gentle touch He rais'd, and and askt him whom he loved so much?

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the Rural Song.

The Plowmen, Heardsmen, and the Sheapherds came, And askt what ill? and what had rais'd the flame? Priapus came from neighbouring shades, and said, Poor Daphnis, why dost pine? why hang thy head? † 1.5 Mean while they Nymph doth o're the fields complain, She calls the Woods, and chides the perjured Swain;

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the Rural song.

Ah Daphnis loose and wanton in thy Love! A Heardsman thought, thou dost a Goatherd prove! A Goatherd when he sees the Kids at rut Sits down, and grieves that He's not born a Goat; Thus when you see the Virgins dance, you grieve Because refus'd, and now disdain to live:

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the Rural Song.

All this young Daphnis heard, but mute he sate, Indulg'd his grief, and hastened to his Fate:

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the Rural Song.

Then Venus came, a Smile her face possest, A faint half smile; fierce anger fill'd her breast: And said, well Daphnis you could fight with Love, With what success the haughty Sheapherd strove! You scorn'd his Bow, and you his Darts Disgrac't; But Daphnis was not Love too strong at last?

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the Rural Song.

And thus the Youth reply'd, disdainful foe, Ah cruel Venus, cursed by all below? The Sun hath told, I fall, but still shall prove Midst shades below a deadly plague to Love:

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the Rural Song:

Go, go to Ida, there, as story goes, Are Scenes of Pleasure, there Anchises does: — Go Venus, there are shades, and Cypress bowers, And labouring Bees buz o're the riseing flowers:

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the rural song:

There lives Adonis, there the wondrous fair, There feeds his Sheep, shoots Beasts, and hunts the Hare:† 1.6

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the rural song:

Go now stout Diomed, go soon pursue, Go nose him now, and boast, my Arts o'rethrew Young Daphnis, fight, for I'me a match for you:

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the rural song:

Ye Woolves, ye Lions, and ye Bores adieu, For Daphnis walks no more in Woods with you; Adieu fair Arethuse, fair streams that swell Thro Thymbrian plains, ye silver streams farewel:

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the rural song:

That Daphnis I that here my Oxen fed, That here my Bulls and Cows to water led:

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the rural song:

Pan, Pan, where e're you keep your Sylvan court Whether on Lyce's tops the Satyrs sport, Or wanton o're the high Menalian hill; We beg Thee visit Sicily's fair Isle, Leave Helick's Cliff, from Licon's Tomb remove, A Tomb to be admir'd by Gods above,

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the rural song:

Come mighty King, come Pan, and take my Pipe Well joyn'd with Wax, and sitted to my Lip, For now 'tis useless grown, Love stops my Breath, I cannot Pipe, but must be mute in death:

Pan raise my voice, Pan move my learned tongue, Begin sweet Muse, begin the rural song:

On every Shrub and Thorn let Lillies smile, Let Privet berries stain the Daffadil; Let all things change, the Pine tree's lofty head Let mellow Pears adorn, since Daphni's dead, Let Deer pursue the Dogs, on ever•• bush Let Schreech-Owls sit, and chatter with the Thrush:

Pan raise my voice no more, Pan stop my tongue, End Muses, end, end Muse, the rural song:

This said He dy'd, fair Venus rub'd the Swain, And idly strove to bring him back again; For cruel Fate had broken every thread And o're the Stygian Lake young Daphni fled: The cruel waves enclos'd the lovely Boy The Nymphs delight, and Muses chiefest joy:

Pan raise my voice no more, Pan stop my tongue, End Muses, end, end Muse the rural song

Give me the Cup the promis'd Goat produce, That I may milk, and offer to my Muse; Hail, Muses, hail, all hail ye sacred Nine, I'le still improve, and make my Song divine.

Goat-heard,

Dear Thyrsis! O! may Hony drops distil, And Hony Combs, thy mouth, dear Sheaperd, fill! It fits thy sweetness, youth, for Thyrsis sings More sweet than Insects bred in flowry springs: Here take the Cup, view it, how rare the smell! As sweet as washt in the Springs fragrant well: Come * 1.7 Browning, milk her; Kids, forbear to skip, The Goat is wanton, Kids, and he may leap.

Idyllium II. Or the Inchantment.

Samoetha being forsaken by Delphis resolves to try the force of Charms to recover his affection; applyes her∣self to the Moon as a powerful Goddess in both those matters, and after she hath sent away her maid, tells the story of her misfortune.

To GEORGE PITT Jun. Esquire.

MAid, where's my Lawrel? Oh my rageing Soul! Maid, where's the Potion? fill the Bason full, And crown the narrow brim with Purple wool: That I might charm my false, my perjur'd Swain, And force him back into my arms again: For Cruel he these Twelve long days hath fled, And knows not whether I'me alive or dead: He hath not broke my Doors these Twelve long days, Ah me! perhaps his varying Love decays, Or else he dotes upon another face. I'le run to morrow to the Fencing house, And ask him what he means to use me thus: But now I'le charm him, Moon, shine brignt and clear, To thee I will direct my secret prayer;

To Thee, and Hecate, whom Dogs do dread When stain'd with gore, she stalks amidst the dead: Hail frightful Hecate, assist me still Make mine as great as fam'd Medea's skill:

* 1.8 Jynx restore my false, my perjur'd Swain And force him back into my Arms again.

First burn the Flowr, then strew the * 1.9 other on, Strew it. How? where's your sense and duty gone? Base Thestylis! and am I so forlorn, And grown so low that I'me become your scorn! But strew the * 1.10 Salt, and say in angry tones I scatter Delphids, perjur'd Delphids bones.

Jynx restore my false, my perjur'd Swain And force him back into my Arms again.

First Delphid injur'd me, he rais'd my flame, And now I burn this Bough in Delphids name: As this doth blaze, and break away in fume, How soon it takes! let Delphids Flesh consume.

Jynx restore my false, my perjur'd Swain, And force him back into my Arms again.

As this devoted Wax melts ore the Fire Let Mindian Delphy melt in warm desire, And, Venus, as I whirl this brazen bowl, Before my doors let perjur'd Delphid rowl:

Jynx restore my false, my perjur'd Swain, And force him back into my Arms again.

Now now I strow the Flowr, Moon you can bow E'en Rhadamanth, and all that's fierce below, Hark Thestilis our Dogs begin to howl, The Goddess comes, go beat the brazen bowl.

Jynx restore my false, m•• perjur'd Swain, And force him back into my Arms again.

The Sea grows smooth, and ease becalms my Wind, But griefs still rage, and toss my troubled mind: I burn for Him, for Him whose Arts betraid And wrought my shame, for I'me no more a maid.

Jynx restore my false, my perjur'd Swain, And force him back into my arms again.

Thrice, thrice I pour, and thrice repeat my charms,

What ever Boy or Maid now fills his arms, Let dark oblivion spread o're Delphids mind, As dark as that, that once did * 1.11 Theseus blind When he at Naxos left his Love behind. Hippomanes a Plant Arcadia bears, This makes Steeds mad, and this excites the Mares, And Oh that I could see my Delphid come From th' Oyly Feneing House so raveing home.

Jynx restore my false, my perjur'd Swain, And force him back into my Arms again.

This piece from dear false Delphids garment torn I tear again, and am resolv'd to burn, Ah cruel Love! ah most relentless God, Why like a Leech still eager on his food, Dost wound my heart, and suck out all my blood?

Jynx restore my false, my perjur'd Swain, And force him back into my A••ms again.

A Lizzard squeez'd shall make a powerful bowl To morrow, strong to tame his stubborn Soul: Now take these Poysons, I'le procure thee more, And strew them at the Threshold of his door,

That door where violent Love hath fixt my mind, Tho he regards not; Cruel and Ʋnkind! Strew them, and spitting say in angry tones, I scatter Delphids, perjur'd Delphids bones.

Jynx restore my false, my perjur'd Swain, And force him back into my arms again.

Now I'me alone shall I lament my state? But where shall I begin? what wrought my Fate? Anaxo Eubul's daughter neatly drest Begd me to go and see Diana's feast, For fame had to••d, Wild beasts must there be shown In solem pomp, a Lioness was one.

Tell sacred Moon what first did raise thy flame, And whence my Pain, and whence my Passion came.

With Hers my Nurse, did all her vows unite, And bad me go, for 'twould be worth my ••ight, So forc't, and finely drest, in Pomp and State I went, attended by an evil Fate.

Tell Sacred Moon what first did raise my flame And whence my Pain, and whence my Passion came.

Near Lyco's House break thro the yielding throng, I saw my Delphis, vigorous, stout, and young,

A Golden Down spread o re his youthful Chin, His breast, bright Moon, was brighter far than thine: For spread with glorious Oyl he lately came From noble Fenceing, and from winning Fame:

Tell sacred Moon what first did raise my flame And whence my Pain, and whence my Passion came.

Oh when I saw, how did the sight surprize! My Soul took Fire, and sparkeld thro my eyes, My Color chang'd, regardless of the show I hasted home, but came I know not how; A burning feavour seiz'd my thoughtful head, And Twelve long days and nights I kept my bed,

Tell sacred Moon what first did raise my flame, And whence my Pain, and whenc•• my Passion came

My Rosy Color d'yd into a Pale, My Eyes grew dim, my hair began to fall, Meer Skin and Bones, I liv'd, I breath'd and prayd, And sought to every Cunning man for aid: All charms were try'd, and various Figures cast, But ah no help, and time did swiftly wast:

Tell sacred Moon what first did raise my flame, And whence my Pain, and whence my passion came.

At last I told my Maid the naked truth, Go Thestilis, have pitty on my youth; Go find some cure to ease my rageing smart; Young Delphid is the Tyrant of my Heart: Go to the Fenceing House, ther's his delight, For there he walks, and there he loves to sit.

Tell sacred Moon what first did raise my flame, And whence my Pain, and whence my Passion came.

And if alone, give him a gentle Nod, And softly tell him that Samaetha wou'd (Speak, speak, tho modest fear doth strike thee dumb) Enjoy him here, and beg him he would come. She went, she found, and told him what I said, He Gladly heard, and eagerly obey'd. But when he came, how great was the surprize Chills shook my Soul, and I grew cold as Ice:

Tell sacred Moon what first did raise my flame, And whence my Pain, and whence my Passion came.

Cold sweat slow'd down my Cheeks like driving rain, And when I strove to speak, I strove in vain; No noise would come, not such as lull••d in rest Young Infants murmur o're their mothers breast: No sign of Life did thro my Limbs appear,

But I grew stiff, stiff as this Gold I wear:

Tell sacred Moon what first did raise my flame, And whence my Pain, and whence my Passion came.

Then cruel he sate down, he prest my bed, His eyes were fixt, and as he sate he said, Samoetha you do me as far surpass, As I Philistus when we ran the race; Too quick for me in this your kind intent, You did my hast, tho not my wish prevent.

Tell sacred Moon what first did raise my flame, And whence my Pain, and whence my Passion came.

For I had come at night, by Love tis true, Unsent for I had come to wait on you: With Apples in my Lap, with * 1.12 Poplar crown'd With Ivy twin'd, and Ribbonds neatly bound:

Tell sacred Moon what first did raise my flame, And whence my Pain, and whence my Passion came.

Where if admitted t' had been kindly done For I am thought the beauty of the Town;

And tho perhaps I wisht for greater bliss I would have been contented with a kiss; But if deny'd, or flam'd with dull delay Streight fire and force had come, and broke a way:

Tell sacred Moon what first did raise my flame, And whence my Pain, and whence my Passion came.

But now to Venus my first thanks are due, The next Samoetha must be paid to you, To you Samoetha, you, whose gentle hand From raging fires secur'd the flaming brand, And saved poor half-burnt Me, for Love doth raise Fires fierce as those that in hot Aetna blaze;

Tell sacred Moon what first did raise my flame, And whence my Pain, and whence my Passion came.

Young tender Maids to unknown Madness drives, And from warm Husbands Arms it forces Wives: Thus He, and heedless I believ'd too soon, He prest My hand in His, and laid me down On the soft bed, when streight lock't Arm in Arm In strickt embraces both grew gently warm; Our breath was hot and short, we panting lay, We look't, we murmur'd, and we dy'd away: Our Cheeks did glow, and fainting vertue strove,

At last it yielded to the force of Love: But what need all this talk? bright sacred Moon, Both were well pleas'd, and some strange thing was done: And ever since we lov'd, and liv'd at ease, No sullen Minutes broke our Happiness; Till ••oon this morning e're the Sun could rise, And drive his Charriot thro the yielding Skies To fetch the Rosy Morn from waves below, I heard the fatal news, and knew my woe: My Maids own Mother, she that lives hard by An Honest Woman, and she scorns to ly; She came and askt me, is your Delphid kind? And have you firm posession of his Mind? For I am sure, but whether Maid or Boy I cannot tell, he courts another joy: For he drinks Healths, and when those Healths are past, He must be gone, and goes away in hast: Besides with Garlands all his Rooms are drest, And he prepares, as for a Marriage Feast; This as as she walkt last night she chanc't to view, And told it me, and oh, I fear 'tis true! For He was wont to come twice, thrice a day, He saw me still as he return'd from play; But now since he was here twelve nights are past, Am I forgotten? am I left at last?

Whilst perjur'd he for other Beauty burns, My Love I'me sure deserv'd more kind returns, But now I'le Charm, but if he scorns me still I'le force him down to Hell, by Fate, I will: Such powerful drugs a Witch did once impart She taught me such strange Charms, such force of Art: But now farewel bright Moon, turn lovely Moon To Waves below, and drive thy Charriot down, Go lovely Moon, and wake the sleepy Morn: I'le bear my trouble still, as I have born; Farewel, and you attending Stars that wheel Round Nights black Axle-tree, bright Stars, farewel.

Idyllium III. The Goatherd.

He repines at the coyness of his Mistriss and ends in despair.

I go to Phyllis, and on yonder Rock My Goats are fed, and Tityrus keeps my flock; Dear Tityrus watch, and see the Goats be fed, To morning Pastures, Evening Waters led, But 'ware the Lybian Ridgling's butting head: Ah lovely Phyllis why so wondrous coy! Why wo'nt you take me to the promis'd joy? Why wo'nt you meet me now in yonder Grove Lean on my Breast, and Kiss, and call me Love? Dost hate me, Phyllis? do's my Nose when near Seem hookt, too long my Beard, and rough my hair? Am I deform'd? displeasing to thy Eye! Grown ugly now! I see that I must dye: Ten Apples I have sent, you show'd the Tree, Ten more to morrow; all I pluck for Thee; Could I enjoy what e're my wish can crave, I'de turn that Bee that flies into thy Cave,

There softly thro thy shady Garland creep, And steal a Kiss when you are fast asleep; I know what Love is now, a cruel God, A Tygress bore, and nurst him in a Wood; A cruel God, he shoots thro every vein, And fires my bones, have pitty on my pain: Dear, black ey'd sweet, all stone, ah lovely face, Be kind again, and grant one kind embrace; Do, clasp thy humble Swain, and grant one Kiss, E'en empty Kisses have a secret bliss. I rave, and I shall tear the Crowns I made, Of Fragrant Parsly twin'd, to grace your head; Ah me! unhappy me! what pains I bear? Ah me! undone! yet you refuse to hear: My Jerkin's off, I'le leap into the flood From you high Rock, where Olpis often stood To snare his Trouts; and tho I do not drown 'Twill please Thee Phyllis, sure, to hear 'twas done: All this I knew: when I design'd to prove Whether I should be happy in my Love, I prest the Long-live, but invain did press, It gave no lucky sound of good success: To Agrio too I made the same demand, A cunning Woman she, I crost her hand; She turn'd the Sieve and Sheers, and told me true,

That I should love, but not be lov'd by you: I have a pretty Goat, a lovely white, She bears two Kids, yet fills three Pails at night, This tawny Bess hath beg'd, and beg'd in vain, But now 'tis hers since you my gifts disdain: My right Eye itches now, and shall I see My Love? I'le sit and pipe by yonder tree, And she may look on me, she may be won, She may be kind, she is not perfect Stone: When young Hippomanes sought the Maids embrace, He took the Golden fruit, and ran the race. But when she view'd, how strong was the surprize! Her Soul took Fire, and sparkled thro her Eyes, How did her passions, how her fury move! How soon she leapt into the deepest Love! From Aetna's top to Pyle Melampus drove His tender Flock, and met a noble Love: Wise Alphisb's mother opened all her charms To Bias Eyes, and wanton'd in his Arms: Adonis liv'd a Swain, and yet the Boy Fir'd Venus breast, She prov'd so mad for joy That ir her lap she warm'd his dying Head, Kisst his cold Lips, and would not think him dead: Tho young Endymion fed ten Thousand Sheep, I envy nothing but his lasting sleep:

I envy Jason's happy dreams, my Dear, They tasted joys which no prophane must hear, Joys too divine for an unhallow'd Ear: Ah me my head! but who regards my pain! l'le fall, despair, and never pipe again: A prey to Woolvs, 'twill be a dainty feast, And sweeter far than Hony to thy tast.

Idyllium IV.

Battus and Corydon in a pastoral way discourse of several things.

To His good friend Mr. E. Lyde of Horspath.

B.

WHose Herds? Philonda's? tell whose Herds they are,

C.

Aegon's, for Aegon gave them to my care,

B.

Do'nt you play false, and sometimes milk a Cow, By stealth?

C.

No, my old Master eyes me so, Gives the Calves suck, and watches what I do:

B.

But where is Aegon? where's the Herdsman gone?

C.

What ha'nt you heard? for sure the story's known,

B.

Not I, I live out of the road of Fame:

C.

Milo hath him drawn to th' Olympian game:

B.

And what will He do there, rude artless Swain?

C.

But yet his strength is fam'd o're all the plain; As big as Hercules, as stout and strong,

B.

More known for brutal force, than fam'd for Song:

C.

He nere plaid Cudgels but he broak a head, Stout Castor's match I'me sure my mother said:

A score of * 1.13 Sheep he carried, and a Spade,

B.

What will not Milo do, that can perswade This Clown to leave his wealth, and court a shade?

C.

His Cows here want him, and mourn o're the plain:

B.

Poor Beasts! and how unhappy in a Swain!

C.

Poor beasts! they will not eat, but idlely low;

B.

Ah careless Herdsman! look on yonder Cow, Poor Beast I pitty her, how gastly thin! Her bones are creeping thro the famisht skin: See you may tell her Ribs, her entrails view: What, like an Insect, doth she feed on Dew?

C.

No; and I hope to see her shortly prove, She sometimes doth in Latym's shady Grove And sometimes o're Asaru's pastures stray, And there I feed her at a rack of Hay:

B.

Look that red Bull is Iean, meer skin and bone, May the Lampridoe, when they would attone Great Juno's anger; meet with such a one; Lean be his aged flesh, corrupt his blood, For they deserv't, ah tis a cursed brood:

C.

And yet I feed him, by the Springs He goes, Or in Neoetha's plains, where plenty flows, The Gilcup Cowslip, and the Dazy grows:

B.

Ah wretched Aegon here thy Oxen dye Whilst you pursue a foolish Victory: Thy best new Pipe is spoyl'd, tis mouldy grown, Alas it must be spoyl'd now Thou art gone:

C.

No fear of that, for when He went away He gave it me, and, Battus, I can play: I sing smooth Phyrrhus songs, I gain renown To Croto, Zacynth is a pretty Town, Lacinius rises proudly to the East, There Aegon once eat eighty Cakes at least: There did I see him whilst He bravely strove, Draw down the Bull, and give him to his love, To Amaryllis, all with joy were fill'd The Women shouted, and the Herdsman smil'd:

B.

Ah lovely Amaryllis, you alone Do still possess my mind, tho dead and gone; Dear as my Goats you dy'd, and left me here Ah me how hard's my Fate, and how severe!

C.

Cheer up, dear Battus, better days may come To morrow, chance, may bring a milder doom:

Th•• alive may hope, the dead are hopeless, lost; Jove sometimes smiles, and sometimes frowns in frost:

B.

I do cheer up, but drive your Heifers down They spoil my Olives, Browning, Hist, begone:

C.

Hah, Colly, to the bank: not stir by Jove? If I come to ye, In faith, I'le make ye move: See now she runs this way; a cursed Cow! Had I my Paddle thou shouldst feel me now:

B.

Look here for God's sake, oh it pricks, it pricks! I've caught a thorn, oh me how deep it sticks! Pray pull it out, dost see it? look 'tis there; Pox take the Cow, I'me sure 'twas long of her:

C.

I have it out, 'twas this, come, all is well,

B.

How small the wound, yet what vast Courage fell!

C.

Ne're walk ore mountains, Swain, without your Shoe, For there are thorns, and there sharp prickles grow:

B.

But Swain, does thy old Master still pursue His old Sweet-heart, or doth he court a new;

C.

His old one still, poor wretch! in yonder grove I trac'd, and found them in a Scene of Love:

B.

Oh brave old lusty Goat! thy race may vye With small shank't Pan's, or Satyr's Leachery!

Idyllium V.

The Goatherd Comatas, and Herdsman Laco contend in Singing, They lay a Wager, and chuse Morso Judge: The victory is determin'd on the Goatherd's side.

To Owen Salisbury Esquire.

C.

FLY Goats fly Laco, fly, and safely feed; He stole my skin last night, dear Goats take heed:

L.

Lambs do'nt you fly the springs? Lambs don't you fear, When He that lately stole my Pipe's so near?

C.

Thy Pipe! what Pipe hadst Thou, thou slavish lout, Couldst Thou and Corydon do ought but toot On Oaten straws, to please the foolish rout?

L.

The Pipe that Lycon gave, free haughty fool; But pray what skin was that that Laco stole? What skin Comatas? where couldst thou have one? Thy master wants a skin to sleep upon:

C.

That spotted skin which, when He kill'd a Goat To th' Nymphs, Dick gave; which you, you envious Sot, Then griev'd to see; and now by knavish theft Hast rob'd me of, 'twas all that I had left:

L.

By Pan not Laco, not Calaithis Son Did steal thy Pipe, or know by whom 'twas done;

If this be'nt true, may I grow frantick, leap From yonder Rocks, and sink into the Deep:

C.

And by the Fountain Nymphs, (those Nymphs I find My constant friends, still generous and kind) Comatas did not steal thy Pipe, believe That this is true, and I thy fault forgive:

L.

If I believe Thee may I bear the pains That Daphnis bore, but since you boast your strains, Come stake a Goat, I'le pipe when e're you will, Till you grow weary, and confess my skill:

C.

A Sow, Minerva: I'me content to lay A Kid, you stake a Lamb, and then let's play:

L.

And how's that equal? oh you crafty fool, Pray who Goats hair did ever shoer for Wool?

C.

He that's as sure as you are to excel, (Tho Wasps with Grasshoppers may strive as well) But since you think a Kid no equal stake, Look there's a full-grown Goat, you shan't draw back:

L.

Soft, soft, good Sir; and let us hence remove, There's better singing in that shady Grove; For there cold water flows, there Herbs do spring, And there are grassy beds, and locusts sing:

C.

I'me not in hast, but yet I'me vext to see,

That Thou shouldst dare at last to strive with me; With me who when a Boy did teach thee strains, Are these the kind returns for all my pains? But breed a Woolf, or an ungrateful Bear, And He'l devour Thee for thy former care:

L.

Pray when did I, you envious railing Sot, E're learn, or hear from you one graceful Note? But pray come hither, here are beds of grass And here wee'l sing, 'tis a convenient place:

C.

I'le not go thither, here are Cypress bowers, Here labouring Bees buz o're the riseing flowers; Here two cold streams, and here a fountain flows, And pratling Birds do murmur thro the boughs: Thy shade's not half so good, here Pines do grow, Rear lofty heads, and scatter Nuts below:

L.

No rather go with me, and every step Shall tread on Lamb skins Wool more soft than Sleep; In thine are Goat skins spread of gastly hue, They smell as rank, nay allmost worse than you: One bowl of Milk I to the Nymphs will crown, And one of Oyl, if that will draw Thee on:

C.

No, go with me, for mine are fairer bowers; There Thou shalt tread upon the sweetest flowers: Besides o're all I'le spread a lovely Skin,

'Tis ten times softer, and as sweet as thine: Eight Bowls of Milk to Pan I'le freely Crown, Of Hony eight, if that will draw Thee on:

L.

Come then I'le go, the doubt at last is clear'd Your skins, your shades shall be for once preferr'd; But who shall judge, and who shall hear us play? I wish the Herdsman Licop came this way:

C.

I don't care much for him, but here's as good Morson the Keeper of our Master's Wood, He makes your Faggots, and if you'l consent Wee'l call him, He shall be our Judge,

L.

content:

C.

Then call him:

L.

Friend, come here, we now contest: Which tunes the Rural Pipe, which Sings the best, Whose Art is greatest must be judg'd by Thee, Judge right, and neither favor him, nor me:

C.

No, Morson, let desert thy judgement guide, Be faire to both, and lean to neither side; This flock is Thurius flock, and these forsooth Eumara's Goats; that you may know us both:

L.

Did any ask to whom These flocks belong, To me, or Thurius? oh Thou hast a Tongue!

C.

What ere I say, Ime sure, is nought but Truth, I scorn to boast; But you've a railing mouth:

L.

Sing, sing, but let thy friend return again, Alive; Comatas! Oh how sweet a Swain!

C.

Me more than Daphnis all the Muses love, Two Kids I lately offer'd in a Grove:

L.

And me Apollo loves, a wanton Steer I feed to offer, for his feast is near:

C.

I milk two Goats; A maid in yonder Plain: Lookt on, and sigh'd, dost milk thy self, poor Swain!

L.

Ha, Laco, hah, full twenty fats can fill With Cheese, and hath a lovely youth at will:

C.

The fair Calistris, as my Goats I drove, With Apples pelts me, and still murmurs Love:

L.

And me smooth Cratid, when He meets me, fires; I burn, I rage, and am all wild desires:

C.

Who with the Rose, whose flower the bush adorns, Compares the meaner beauties of the Thorns?

L.

And who will Sloes with Damzen Plums compare? For those are black, and these are lovely fair:

C.

I'le give my Dear a Dove, in yonder woods I'le climb, and take her down, for there she broods:

L.

A fleece to make a Coat, when first I sheer Black Rams, I will present unto my Dear:

C.

Goats from the Olives, come and feed below, By this declineing bank; there Myrtles grow:

L.

Ho, Sharp-horn, Browning, leave those hurtful weeds' And come and graze this way, where Colly feeds:

C.

I have a Cypress Pail, and Cup; 'tis new, Well wrought, and this, my Love, I keep for you:

L.

I have a sturdy Spock, it Woolvs will seize, With this my Boy may hunt what Beasts He please:

C.

You Locusts, you, that o're my fences throng, Hurt not my Vines too much, for they are young:

L.

See Grasshoppers, see how I nearly touch The Goatherd, Reapers you provoke as much:

C.

I hate the brush tail'd Fox, He comes at night, Eats Myco's Vines; and then prepares for flight:

L.

I hate the Beetles, for they always prey On my Philonda's Figgs; then whisk away:

C.

And do'nt you mind, when I—you know the trick—, You wanton'd, la••ght, and clung to yonder stick:

L.

Not that: but when your Master us'd to bind And lash you there, I know; for that I mind:

C.

He's angry, Morson: art Thou frantick Swain? Go gather Scilla, that will purge thy brain:

L.

Morson, I nettle him, I vex him more, Swain thou art Mad, go gather Helebore:

C.

With milk Himera, and let Crathis slow With purple Wine; let Figgs on Brambles grow:

L.

Let Sybaris roul Hony, every Urn

My Servant dips with flowing Combs return:

C.

My Goats eat Thyme, on Figgs they freely brouze, They walk on Flaggs, and ly on tender Boughs:

L.

My Sheep eat Parsly, thro the fields they stray, They crop sweet flowers, and Dazies all the day:

C.

I love not Alcipp; (She I hop'd would prove More kind) when I presented Her a Dove, She did not clasp, and kiss, and call me Love;

L.

I love Eumedes much, I gave my Pipe, How sweet a kiss he gave; ah charming Lip!

C.

Thou art contentious, Lacon, end thy strains; Pyes should not strive with Thrushes, Owls with Swans:

Morson.

End, Shepherd, end thy strains, and dye for shame, For Morson says Comatas wins the Lamb: Go offer to the Muse, and send a Peice To Morson, for He claims it as his fees:

Comatas.

I will by Pan, my Goats all leap for joy: And I'le frisk too, I'le leap into the Sky: I'le toot at Lacon, I have won the Lamb, Go foolish Shepherd, pine, and dye for shame▪

Frisk, Goats, and leap; in Sybaris purling spring I'le wash you all, and all the while I'le sing: Push not the Kids, you Goat, till I have done The Sacrifice, if you dare push but one, Thou shalt— how now? well, thou shallt smart for this, Or may Comatas, He that wan the prize, Forget his Pipe, and loose his flock, be poor; And basely beg his bread at Laco's door.

Idyllium VI.

Damaetas and Daphnis, meeting at noon, sing; Daphnis applies his Song to Polyphemus, who was in Love with Galataea, and Damaetas in his Person answers.

To Thomas Wyndham of Lincolns Inn, Esquire.

DAmaetas and the Herdsman Daphnis drove Their flocks to feed, and took one shady grove; The one was bearded, of a charming grace, The other young; Down cloath'd his lovely face; They sate and wanton'd by a purling spring I'th Middays heat; and thus began to sing; The lowing Herds lay round, and quencht their thirst; First: Daphnis sang, for He had challeng'd first:

Daphnis.

Fair Galataea from the smiling deep With Apples, Polyphemus, pelts thy Sheep; (See from the shore they all with hast remove) And says a Goatherd's an unskilful Love: But you poor wretch, ah wretch! ne're view the Maid, But sit, and pipe; and call to floods for aid: See there again, see how she pelts thy Spock, The faithful Dog that keeps thy wandring flock;

Hah, how he barks! and in a wild amaze Looks o're the flood! and whilst by shores he strays His shadow in the quiet water plays: Ah! call him back, lest when the Maid appears He rushes on, and her fair limbs he tears: But there she wantons, she, the charming fair, As Down of thistles in the Summer Air; And driven still by an unlucky fate Flies those that love, and follows those that hate: Her ways are foolish, and in vain she trys; But, Polyphem, mean things do oft surprize, For Love is Magick, and deceives the Eys:

Damaetas.

And next Damaetas sang; I chanc't to look, By Pan I did, whilst she did pelt my flock; She could not scape this Eye, this single one By which I see, and will, till Life is gone; Tho Tellemus foretells strange ills to come, Oh let him take, and keep his ills at home, And for his Children treasure up the Doom! But straightways I, to raise her flame the more, Seem not to see her trace the yielding shore; But can pretend I court another Miss; Then how she frets, Good God! and how she dys!

Oh with what eager hast she leaves the waves! My Folds she searches, and looks o're my Caves: Besides, my Dog, He is at my command, Shall bark at her and gently bite her hand: For whilst she was my Love, the only she, He fawn'd, and laid his head upon her knee: This if I practise long, shee'l strive to move, And send a Message to declare her Love: But I will shut my door, and scorn to heed, Unless she swears that she will grant her bed; For I'me not ugly, for last night I stood And view'd my Figure in a quiet stood; Let men say what they will, my face is fair, My Beard is fine, I'me sure; and neat my hair, And this one Eye, in my Opinion, rare: I have a set of Teeth, a finer white No Parian Marble boasts, a lovely sight: But lest she charm me, I have murmur'd thrice, Spit thrice for old Cotytto taught me this; She that of late in rich Hyppocoon's room Sate mids't the Reapers, and sang Harvest home: Thus sang Damaetas, and with eager joy Young Daphnis kisst, and claps't the lovely Boy:

I gave them gifts that suited with their youth, A Pipe, and Flute; and so I pleas'd them both: The jocund Heifers wanton'd o're the fields Whilst both unconquer'd stand, and neither yields:

Idyllium. VII.

Theocritus was entertain'd by Phrasidamus and An∣tigones Licop's Sons, and invited into the Country to a feast they then kept: As He was going He meets Lycidas the Cretan, and each sings of his Love.

To Mr. Tho Curganven.

Now Ceres feast, was come, the Corn was grown, When I, and dear Eumedes left the Town, Amyntas made a third; we all design'd To pay a visit to a special friend, Rich Licop's Son, for then He kept the feast, And kindly bad me be a welcome guest: Rich Lycop's Son, the glory of the Plains, For generous blood runs thro his noble veins; From Chalco down it came, the brave, the bold, And gather'd still fresh honors as it roll'd. From Chalco down, That He, by whose command The Bourian spring o' reflows the fruitful Land, Around it Dazies grow, and all above Tall Poplars spread, and make a shady Grove: Scarce had we gone thro half the neighbouring Plain, By Brasil's Tomb we met a museing Swain: His name was Lycidas, the gay the young, A Cretan born, and fam'd for Rural Song:

Soon as we saw him, He by all was known To be a Goatherd, for He lookt like one: For o're his shoulders hairy skins were spread, They smelt as newly tand, or newly flead; A tatter'd Mantle o're his breast was cast, And ty'd with an old girdle to his wast; His right hand with a knotty Crab was fill'd; He lookt on me, and as he lookt, he smil'd: Gay, vigorous, sweet, and in the pride of youth, And as he spake a smile sat on his mouth: Where, Smichidas, where now at burning Noon, What urgent business makes Thee leave the Town? Whilst bleating flocks do seek the shades and cool, And every Lizzard creeps into his hole? What feast invites, or now I view your dress, Who treads his Grapes, and calls you to the press? Hark how at every step, you walk so fast, The Stones resound, and tell you are in hast: And I reply'd; dear glory of the Plains How great, how just a praise commends thy strains? Dear skilful Piper, Fame does loudly tell That you the Reapers, and the Swains excel, I'me glad on't, tho I think I pipe as well. We go to Ceres feast, this way we bend, And make a visit to a special friend,

He keeps it now, for she hath throng'd his floor; And payes the early tributes of his store: But since we walk one way, since time perswades, And we are far remov'd from gloomy shades; Let's Pipe, and wanton as we walk along, For we may please each other with a Song: For I can sing, and by our flattering Youth I'me prais'd, and call'd the charming Muses mouth; They say I pipe the best, and would deceive By praise; but I'me not easy to believe: My Songs are mean, my Pipe claims no repute Compar'd to Sceli's or Phileta's Flute; They me, and thus convince the flattering vogue, As Locusts tunes excell the croaking Frog: Thus I designdly; then He smil'd, and said, What glories, Smichidas, adorn thy head? Here take this Club, this token of my Love, 'Tis justly thine, thou care of mighty Jove: I hate the Mason, that, to boast his skill, Would raise a house to equal yonder hill: And those that rival the Sicilian Swain, I hate as much, and think their hopes as vain: But come, let's sing the Song I lately made, My Goats fed round, and wanton'd as I play'd; See if you like it; it hath pleas'd the Swains,

And sounds the best and newest of the Plains: Kind breathing Gales to Mitylenian shores Shall wast my Agis, Nymphs shall guide his Oars; Tho rainy South-winds angry Waves do raise, And rough Orion steps into the Seas; Oh would he ease my pains, give just returns, And Love for Love, for him the Goatherd burns: Let Halcyons smooth the Seas, the Storms allay And skim the floods before him all the way: The Nymphs lov'd bird, of all that haunt the flood, Skim o're the Waves, and dive for swimming food: Let my dear Agis, cut the angry Tide, And reach his Port, and there securely ride; For then with Violets or with Roses crownd I'le sport a Glass, and see his Health go round; I'le tost my Beans, to raise pall'd Appetite. Make me drink on, and lengthen the Delight: Whilst strecht on Beds I'le spend my easy hours, And roul, till I have lost my self in flowers: Then to his Health I'le sport a lusty Bowl, And pour Dear Agis Love into my Soul: Two Swains shall Pipe, the best of all the youth, And skillful Richards voice shall joyn with both, How Herdsman Daphnis did for Xenea burn, Trace o're the Woods, complaining of her scorn:

How Groves, and Echoes to his groans reply'd, And smooth Himera murmur'd when He dy'd: For He, as Snow when Summer heats the Grove Of Aetna, melted by the flame of Love: And how when force weak Innocence opprest, The Swain was shut alive into a Chest. And how the labouring Bees in every Plain Forsook their flowers, and buz'd about the Swain, Because the Muse had fill'd his charming mouth With Nectar, and preserv'd the pious youth: Happy Comatas, happy thou, the blest And wondrous darling at the Muses feast; Full twelve months nourisht by the labouring Bee, Oh had I then been born and liv'd with Thee! Then had I fed thy flock, and heard thy Pipe, Paid with a tune, and hung upon thy Lip; Whilst by a shady Tree, or purling spring Divine Comatas, thou shouldst sit and sing: Thus He, then I, dear Swain, whilst o're the hill I drove the Herds, the Muse improv'd my skill, Sweet tunes she taught, which same hath rais'd above, And bore on high to please the Ears of Jove: But this is choicest which I'le now produce To pleasure Thee, Thou darling of the Muse.

Love sneez'd on Smichid, for He Myrto loves As much as Goats the Spring, or Swains the Groves: Aratus too his dearest friend and joy, His dear Aratus deeply loves the Boy: And this sweet Acis knows, the gay, the young; Acis, a theme for great Apollo's Song: He knows how dear Aratus loves, he knows How great his flame, and how his passion grows: Pan, green Homala's Guardian, move the coy The soft Philinus; and enflame the Boy; Grown wanton, gay, and lavish of his Charms, Uncall'd for let him fly into his Arms: Ye smileing Loves, fair Venus soft delight, Like ruddy Apples pleasing to the sight, Leave Bybli's fountain, leave her purling streams That scorch the fields with her forbidden flames, And shoot Philinus, wound his stubborn mind, Shoot; for he hath no pitty for his friend; Tho soft as Parsly, tender as the Vine, And oh that he would clasp his Arms in mine! Mean while the weomen cry, and shake their heads Ah! ah! Philinus, ah thy Beauty fades! But dear Aratus let's endure no more Forget our Love, and fly the hated door:

And when the Cock calls forth the morning beams, Let broaken slumbers mixt with frighful dreams Disturb his thoughts, and by the neighbouring gate Ah! let him hang, and none bewail the Fate: Let us mind rest, and let's provide a charm To keep us safe, and free from future harm: Thes'e Songs we sung, and with a cheerful smile His Crook he gave me, to reward my skill; Take it, He said, 'tis mean, yet do'nt refuse, It is a pledge of friendship from a Muse: This said we parted, for invain we prest We could not force him to the promis'd feast: There Lycop's son, and all his friends around With sweet Amyntas sate with Roses crown'd: We lay, we wanton'd on a flowry bed, Where fragrant Mastick, and where Vines were spread, And round us Poplars rais'd their shady head: Just by a spring with pleasing Murmurs flow'd, In every bush, and thicket of the wood Sweet Insects sang, and sighing Turtles coo'd. The labouring Bees buz'd round the purling spring, Their Hony gather'd, and forgot their sting: Sweet Summers choicest fruits, and Autum's pride Pears by our head, and Apples by our side Lay round in heaps; and loaden Plums did stand

With bending boughs, to meet the reaching hand: To please us more he pierc't a Cask of Wine, Twas four years old, and from a noble Vine; Castalian Nymphs, ye Nymphs that still reside On steep Parnassus, and command his pride, Did e're old Chiron, did he e're produce For great Alcides such rich Bowls of juice? Did Polyphem the vast Sicilian Swain, That darted mountains o're the frighted main, Drink Wine like this, did e're such Bowls advance His Love-sick thoughts, and raise him to a dance? As then you gladly mixt to every guest, And poured on Cere's Altars at her feast? Oh may she often fill the fruitful Plain, And may I tread the Reeks, and fix the Fan; Whilst joyful she with smiles just thanks receives, And holds in either hand full bending Sheaves.

Idyllium VIII.

Daphnis and Menalcas sing for a Wager, a Goatherd is chosen Judge, who determines Daphnis his Song to be the best.

To Richard Hicks of the Mid. T. Esquire.

THE Heardsman Daphnis walking o're the Plain The gay Menalcas met, a Sheapard Swain; Both yellow locks adorn'd, and both were young, Both rarely pip'd; and both divinely sung; Then first Menalcas rais'd his lovely head, And spake, and smil'd on Daphnis as he said;

M.

Come, Heardsman Daphnis will you pipe with me, I vow I'me sure that I can conquer Thee; I'me sure I can excel Thee as I will:

D.

And Daphnis thus reply'd; You boast your skill Menalcas, but I'me sure you can't excel, For pipe untill you burst I pipe as well:

M.

And shall we try?

D.

Yes Swain, I know my skill;

M.

And will you lay a wager?

D.

Yes I will:

M.

What will you lay, what equal to our fame?

D.

I'le stake a Calf, you stake a full-grown Lamb:

M.

I cannot stake a Lamb, for should I lose, My Father's jealous, and my Mother cross;

These watch, They know how many Lambs I keep, Both count my Lambs at night, and one my Sheep;

D.

What then? and what shall He that conquers, gain?

M.

I have a Pipe, 'tis new, of sounding Cane, Waxt at both ends, and tho I'le stake no prize That is my Father's, yet I'le venture this:

D.

And I have one, white Wax both ends secures It sounds as well, and is as new as yours: For when I made it, as I cleft the Reeds One prickt me, look e'en now my Finger bleeds; But since we venture, since such Pipes we lay Wha•• Man shall judge, and who shall hear us play?

M.

We'el call that Goath••rd, look, the Swain is near, Our Dog barks at him, He perhaps will hear: The Sheapherds call'd, the Goatherd streight obey'd, The Goatherd judg'd, and thus the Sheapherds play'd: Menalcas first, then Daphnis tun'd his Cane, By turns they sang, Menalcas first began:

M.

Ye Vales, ye Springs that flow from distant Seas, If e're the sweet Menalcas Songs did please, Then feed my Lambs, if Daphnis drives his Kine To graze them here, feed his as well as mine:

D.

Ye Herbs and Flowers, ye glory of the Vales, If Daphnis songs are sweet as Nightingales

Then feed my Herds; if thro the flowry Mead Menalcas drives, then let his Lambs be fed:

M.

There Pastures flourish, there the Duggs do fill, The Lambs are suckled, and the Sheapherds smile Where my Boy comes, but when He leaves the place The Sheapherd wither's o're the fading Grass:

D.

There Sheep, there Goats bear twins, there labouring Bees Do sill their Hives, and there rise prouder Trees, Where Milo Treads, but when He leaves the place, The Herdsman withers, and the Herd decays:

M.

O Goat, the white Kids husband, stately Oaks, O flat-nos'd Kids make hast to purling Brooks For there He is, Go, let the Boy be show'd That Proteus fed his Sea Calves, tho a God:

D.

Not Pelops land, not heaps of Gold refind I wish, nor swiftness to outstrip the Wind, But let me fit and sing by yonde•• Rock, Clasp thee my Dear, and view my feeding flock:

M.

Rough storms to Trees, to Birds the treacherous Snare, Are frightful evils, Springes to the Hare; Soft Virgins love to man; Oh mighty Jove, Not I alone, but Thou hast stoopt to Love: Thus sang the youths by turns, and pleas'd the Swain, And thus Menalcas the last part began,

M.

Woolf spare my Lambs, and let them safely bleat▪ For I am little, and my fold is great; How, White-foot, how so soon, so fast asleep; Is this your care, do you thus watch my Sheep? I faith you shall not sleep when one so young As I, is Sheapherd; and engag'd in Song: But feed dear flock, and crop the flowry plain, Feed, never fear, the Grass will grow again: Fill well your duggs, that when Night spreads her vail The Lambs may suck; and I may fill my Pail: And next fair Daphnis sang —

D.

And as I drove my Herd, a lovely Maid Stood peeping from a Cave; She smild, and said, Daphnis is lovely, ah a lovely youth; What smiles, what Graces sit upon his mouth! I made no sharp returns, but hung my head, And went my way, yet pleas'd with what she said: Winds sweetly murmur; The Steer sweetly lows, Sweet is the Heifers voice, and sweet the Cows: Tis sweet to ly in shades by purling streams In Summer's heat; dissolv'd in easy dreams: Acorns the Oaks, and Grass commends the Plain, Fat Calves do grace the Cows, and Cows the Swain:

Thus sang the youths, and thus the Goatherd said;

Goatherd.

Sweet is thy voice, and sweet the tunes you plaid Fair Daphnis, thro my Ears thy Songs have past Sweet to the Mind, as Hony to the Tast: And if you'l teach me, if instruct the Swain, That Goat is thine, it shall reward thy pain; See how her Udder swells, it ne're will fail, And every night it fills my largest Pail: The Boy rejoyc't, He leapt with youthful heat, As sucking Colts leap when they swig the Teat: The other griev'd, he hung his bashful head As married Virgins when first laid to bed: Thus Daphnis liv'd the glory of the Plains, Was thought the best, and lov'd by all the Swains: And to compleat the happiness of life The lovely Nais blest him in a Wife.

Idyllium IX.

A Sheapherd invites Daphnis and Menalcas to sing, they pleasure him, and he rewards them both.

To his Chum Tho. Lydgould, M.A. of Wadham. Col••.

SIng, Daphnis, sing; begin the rural lay, Begin sweet Daphnis; next Menalcas play: Mix Calves and Heifers, joyn the Bulls and Cows, And let them feed, and wanton in the boughs. Whilst you begin, begin the rural strain, And next Menalcas sing, and cheer the Swain:

D.

Sweet is the Heifers sound, and sweet the ••ine, Sweet is the Pipe's, the Swain's, and sweet is mine; By purling streams I have a shady bed, And or'e white Heifers skins are neatly spread, Ah careless Herd! they from a Mountains side Ah cruel storm! were blown, they fell, they dy'd: And there I value Summer's burning heats No more than Lovers do their Father's threats; Their Mother's kind complaints, or friends advice: This Daphnis sang, and next Menalcas this:

M.

Me Aetna bred, to me she kindly gave Midst hollow Rocks a large and shady Cave: I live by pleasant Brooks, and purling Streams, And have as much as e're you saw in dreams: By me a thousand Goats, and flocks are fed, And Wool lies round my feet, and round my head: Soft Chitterlings afford me pleasing food, And when the Winter comes I'me stor'd with wood; So that I value Cold no more, not I, Than too••hless Men do Nuts, when pulse is by: I clapt them both, to both rewards I threw, A Club that in my Father's Meadow grew To Daphnis, rude as from the Woods it fell, And yet scarce Art could shape a thing so well: Then next Menalcas did a shell receive, The flesh divided was enough for five, Caught in th' Icarian flood, He took the Shell, And smil'd as pleas'd; and lik'd the present well: Hail rural Muses, hail, produce the strains, Which once I sang, and pleas'd the listning Swains: I'le boldly sing, nor midst my wondrous Song Shall blisters rise, and gall my boasting tongue;

The Hawks to Hawks are friends, to Ews the Ews, To Larks the Larks are friends, to Me the Muse; Oh may I hear them still! The weary sleep, The Spring the Ploughman, shady Plains the sheep, Smooth Streams, and riseing flowers the labouring Bee Delight not half so much, as Muses Me; On whom they look and smile, secure they prove Fam'd Circe's Cup; nor fear the force of Love.

Idyllium X.

Battus not reaping as fast as he was wont, Milo asks him the reason, Battus confesseth it was Love, and sings a Song in praise of his Sweet-heart.

To my Chum Mr. Hody of Wadham Colledge.

Milo.

AH labouring Reaper, Wretch! what ails thee now! Thou canst not reap as thou wert wont to do; Nor yet so fast; look, He hath rais'd a Cock: You lag, as Sheep, when prickt, behind the flock: What wilt Thou do, poor wretch, before tis Noon, What wilt Thou do e're shady Night comes on Since, e're one land is cut, you fail so soon?

B.

Ah Milo! thou canst hold out all the day, But I'me grown weak; ah peice of flinty clay! Didst thou ne're wish for One that was away?

M.

Not I, for what have I that work for food To do with Love? He is an Idle God; Forget thy lazy thoughts, soft cares remove,

B.

Then, Milo, did you never wake for Love?

M.

And may it never, never break my sleep, For Dogs, once blooded, always run at Sheep:

B.

But I have lov'd these ten long days, or more;

M.

A wealthy Man, enjoy thy fancy'd store, I am, and am contented to be poor:

B.

Hence 'tis that I'me o'rerun with lazy ease, My Field's neglected, and my Ploughs displease,

M.

But who thus wounds thee?

B.

Moll, the brisk the gay, She sung our Song, and was our Queen of May,

M.

Faith rightly serv'd, pursue thy vain delight, How that old Fly shall clasp thee all the Night!

B.

You flout; not only Pluto's Eyes are lost; But vexing Love's; forbear, rude Swain, to boast:

M.

I do not boast, but lay thy handful down, Throw by thy hook▪ unbend thy gather'd frown, And sing, (for you could sing) thy slender fair, Twill ease thy labour, and divert thy care.

Battus.

With me, sweet Muse, the slender Maid reherse, For all looks fair that you adorn with Verse: Bombyce charming, Sun-burnt, gastly thin You seem to many Eyes, but Brown to mine The letter'd Daffadil, and Vi'let's brown, Yet those are chiefest Graces of a Crown: The Goats their thyme, the Woolves the Goats pursue, The Crane the Plough; and I am mad for you:

Oh had I Craesus store, then both should shine, Two golden Statues fixt in Venus Shrine; Thy Hand should grace an Apple, Harp, or Rose, And me a danceing garb, and gawdy shows, Bombyce charming; oh wouldst Thou be kind! How sweet thy voice! but who can tell thy Mind?

Milo.

Hah, we ne're knew the value of the Swain, How well he Measures, how he tunes his Strain! Hah! no more sense, and yet thy beard so long! But stay, and hear the sweet Lytersa's Song. O fruitful Ceres bless this thriving Crop, Encrease, and make it larger than our Hope; Ye Reapers bind the Sheaves, lest some should say Ah lazy drones, they do'nt deserve their pay; Or to the North your Cocks, ye Reapers rear Or to the South, those Winds encrease the Ear: Ye Clowns that winnow never sleep at noon For then the Chaff is loose, and quickly gone: Reapers should rise with Larks, and sleep when They To Roost retire, but bear the heat all day: Frogs Lives, my boys, are blest, for midst their Pool They never want, their Cup is always full:

Boyl, Steward, boyl them whole, such pinching's mean: You'l cut your hand whilst you divide a Bean: Such Songs should Reapers sing that toyl, and sweat, That work at Noon, and bear the burning Heat, But starveing Love should never vex thy head, Such tales will bring Thee to a bit of bread, Tales for thy Mother, as She lies a bed.

Idyllium XI.

He writes to a Physitian, and tells him that the Muses are the only Remedy for Love, which he proves by the example of Polyphemus.

To Dr. Pitt of Wadham Colledge.

IN vain, Learn'd Sir, invain is all your Art, There is no Physick for a wounded heart; No Herb can ease, no Salve the Pain remove, There is no cure for the disease of Love Beside the Muses; Those are soft and sweet, And pleasing Medcines, but are hard to get: This, Sir, you know whose skill is next divine In Physick; you, the darling of the Nine: Thus Polyphem found ease, the gay the young, He cured his rageing Passion by a Song: No mean degree of Love his breast did fire, He was all fury, rage, and wild desire; This single passion did his mind controul, And was the only business of his Soul: Oft did his Sheep his former chief delight, From Pastures fed return alone at night: Whilst on the Sedgy shore the Cyclops lay, And singing Galatea pin'd away:

From Morn till Night, for Venus powerful Dart Had gall'd his Liver, and had pierc't his heart. And yet He found a cure, on Rocks He stood, And thus he sang, as he lookt o're the stood: Fair Maid, and why dost thou thy Love despise? More white than Curds, and pleasing to my Eyes; More soft than Lambs, more wanton than a Steer, Yet harsh as Grapes unripe, and as severe: You come when pleasing sleep hath seald my Eye, When pleasing sleep unseals you quickly fly, You fly with eager hast, as fearful Lambs From ravening Woolves run bleating to their Dams: I lov'd Thee Nymph, I lov'd e're since you came. To pluck our Flowers, from thence I date my flame: My Eye did then my feeble heart betray, I know the minute of the fatal day, My Mother led you, and I show'd the way: Then when I lookt, and ever since I burn, I must Love on despairing a return: The cause of all thy hate, dear Nymph, I know, One large wide Gap spreads cross my hairy Brow From Ear to Ear, one Eye doth singly grace, My Nose is flat, and even to my face: Yet I, that ugly I, whom you refuse Feed thousand Goats, and milk ten thousand Ews,

These give me drink, and Cheeses all the year, See round my Cave my loaden Shelves appear, And bend beneath the weighty heaps they bear. Besides, I live the joy of all the Plain, No Cyclops can pretend so sweet a strain, Thee, Thee, dear Nymph, with Thee my self I sing, Till Midnight's past, and Morning spreads her Wing: Ten Cubs, I forc't them from an angry Bear, Ten Does I keep; and all to please my Dear; Come live with Me, and I sincerely vow That your condition shan't be worse than now; Forsake the Ocean, leave the angry Sea, Tis better sleeping in my Cave with Me, There Lawrels grow, and there black Ivy twines, And blushing Clusters load the bended Vines: There are cold streams which from the melting Snow Hot Aetna sends, a drink divine, below: There all things are by Nature form'd to please, And who before all this would choose the Seas? But grant that I'me deform'd, unseemly rough, Yet I am rich, and I have Wood enough, A constant blazeing flame still heats my Cave, * 1.14 Tho by this Eye, the dearest thing I have, I want no outward heat, the fierce desire That burns my Breast, is a sufficient fire;

Ah me! unhappy me, how Fate prevails! Oh me! Had I been born with sins and scales, That I might dive to you, cut thro the Deep, And kiss your Hand, if you refuse your Lip; Then would I Lillies white, and Roses bring, And all the gawdy glories of the Spring, With Poppies blushing leaves, tho these do grow In Summers heat, and those in frost and snow: Well, well, I••le learn to swim, next nimble Oars That set a Seamen on our fruitful Shores Shall teach me how to dive, that I may know What pleasure 'tis you take in Waves below: Come forth, fair Nymph, come forth, and leave the main, And (as I now) ne're mind thy home again, But feed the Flocks with me, or milk the Sheep, Or run the Cheese, and never mind the Deep: My Mother's cross, her just Complaints pursue, For she ne're spoak of me kind things to you, Alltho she knew my grief, saw every day How much I wasted, how I pin'd away: I'le tell, to fright her, that my head, my thigh Are pain'd: that she might grieve as well as I: O Cyclops, Cyclops, are thy senses flown! Is all thy former wit, and vertue gone?

Go wreath thy Baskets, cut the tender boughs To feed the Lambs, and milk the burdned Cows, Go mind thy Harvest work, for that will prove Thy Wisdom greater than this whineing Love: Take those that offer, and the proud despise, The willing Love, and scorn the Maid that flies: Come leave this fooling, leave this dull despair, Another Virgin thou shallt find as fair; For many Maids invite me still to play, And titter all, as pleas'd, when I obey: Sure I am somewhat, they my worth can see, And I my self will now grow proud of Me: 'Thus Polyphemus cur'd his strong disease, His Songs tam'd Love, and gave more certain ease, Than if He had implor'd the Doctor's skill, And with just fees bought your unerring Bill.

Idyllium. XII.

A Welcome to a Friend.

To Mr. Edward Eaton.

YOU come dear youth, now three long days are gone, You come; But Lovers do grow old in one; As much as Spring excells the Frost and Snow, As much as Plums are sweeter than a Sloe, As much as Ews are thicker fleec't than Lambs, As much as Maids excel thrice marry'd Dames: As much as Colts are nimbler than a Steer, As much as Thrushes please the listning ear More than the meaner Songsters of the Air; So much thy presence cheers; behold, I run, As Travellers to the shade at burning Noon: Oh may an equal flame our hearts engage, And let us live in Songs thro future Age! Two youths were once with mutual bands confin'd, The one was generous, and the other kind: Their Love was equal; those were golden Men, When He that was belov'd did love agen: Grant ye Immortal Powers, grant mighty Jove, Grant this once more, encrease these bands of Love;

When future Ages shall in order flow Let some descend, and tell my shade below, Thy Love, thy Lover's kindness, Faith and Truth, Are prais'd by All, but chiefly by the youth: But this I leave to Heaven's indulgent care, For Heaven can grant, or can reject my Prayer. Yet Thee I'le sing; Thee sweet, nor midst my Song Shall tell-tale Blisters rise, and gall my Tongue: The little pains you rais'd were kindly meant, Your healing Love did all the smart prevent; And I departed fraught with good content: Brave Megarensians fam'd for nimble Oars, May Peace flow in, and plenty crown your Shores, The Honors you bestow on Diocles, That constant Friend and Lover, claim no less; At his fam'd Tomb each year the boys contend Which kisses softest, which best loves his friend, And He that kisses sweetest wins the praise, And runs to his glad Mother crown'd with bays: Happy the Man that must bestow the prize, Thrice happy He that judges of the Kiss! Fair Ganymed that makes the Thunderer bow, Whose smiles can calm, and smooth his angry brow, Allay his fury and his rage command And stop his lightning in his lifted hand;

Had such a Lip (or Fame hath often ly'd, And Fame errs seldom on the better side) That like a Touch-stone try'd the proffer'd joy, And could discern true Gold from base alloy.

Idyllium XIII.

He writes to his friend, a Physitian, and tells him that Love conquers the greatest Heroes, which He proves from the story of Hercules and Hylas.

To Mr. William Gould M.B. of Wadham Colledge.

LOve, Love, dear Friend, what e're we think 'tis true, Was not design'd for only such as you; Nor do the Charms of Beauty strike alone Us Mortals, seen to day, to morrow gone; But Hercules that Son of mighty Jove, That bore the Lion's fury. stoopt to Love: Tho rough his mind appear'd, tho steel'd to joy He Hylas claspt, and lov'd the charming Boy: He taught him as a Father would a Son, To vertuous actions still He led him on: They never parted, nor at noon, nor night, Nor when the Morn's white Horse d••aws forth the light, Nor when the callow Birds ly down to rest, And careful old Ones flutter o're the Nest: That still instructing as He once began, He might be wrought into a worthy Man: But when stout Jason with the youths of Greece To Colchos sail'd, their prize the Golden Fleece:

When he had gather'd all the Sons of fame That could assist, the great Alcides came To fair Jolcos, Argo's chiefest freight; Young Hylas too. the Ship scarce felt his weight: She, swift as Eagles, ply'd her nimble Oars, And safely scap't the rough Cyanean Shores. Which us'd to meet, and stave the Ships that past, But now are fix't, on firm foundations plac't: When Summer came, and when the tender Lambs Began to feed on Grass, and leave their Dams, The noble Hero's, blest with Southern Gales, Thro Hellespont did spread their swelling Sails: Thro the Propontis they did swiftly row, Where stout Cyanean Oxen wear the Plow: And landing there as shady Night came on And call'd to eat, they sate in order down: Soft Turfs were rais'd, and each possest his place, The Plain was large and gave them Beds of Grass. The charming Hylas, quick as the command, A brazen Vessel grac't his lovely hand, Ran o're the Field to see what Springs afford, And fetch some Fountain water for his Lord; His Lord, and Telamon his constant guest, One Table always joyn'd them a feast:

Just by, a murmuring Spring crept o're the ground, The Banks with Vervine, and with Parsly crownd, Within, the Nymphs, the Ladies of the Plains, The watchful Nymphs that dance, and fright the Swains: Eunica, Malis, and their chiefest grace Nicoea, Spring still opens in her face: This Hylas saw, his Cup let gently down, Well pleas'd that He could serve his Lord so soon; But streight the Nymphs, (for Love had div'd below; Their tender hearts did midst the Water glow, The Boys fair Eyes had darted warm desire, And thro the Waves had rais'd a fatal Fire:) Seiz'd on his hand, he fell, as soret from Clouds A falling Star shoot's down to under Floods: Mean-while the Boat Swain crys, Mates spread the sails The Wind's at Stern, and we have prosperous gales: The Nymphs danc't Hylas, Kisses dry'd his Tears, And Comforts were apply'd to ease his Fears: But vext Alcides, Care with Anger strove, And tore his Breast, resolv'd to find his Love, His left hand grac't a Bow of fatal Ewe, Death wing'd and pointed every Dart that flew; His right a knotty Club did well command, That constant grace and terrour of his hand;

Thrice did He Hylas call, and thrice He mourn'd, Thrice Hylas heard the voice, and thrice return'd: But small the sound which thro the Waves did rise, Tho near, far off he seem'd; so weak the crys: As shaggy Lions fierce by Hunger grown, That hear a Kid or Lamb kin bleat alone, Start from their Den, and lash their angry Breast, And fiercely run to take their easy feast: So He thro thorny paths did wildly rove, As mad and furious for his perisht Love: Mean while the Ship was rig'd, the Winds were fair And sails were spread, but no Alcides near; He far remov'd did rove thro Paths untrod For Love had gall'd his breast, a cruel God: Hence Hylas grew a God, and grac't a shrine, His Love and Beauty made him half divine; Mean while the Heroes fir'd with martial rage Alcides blam'd as fearful to engage, It argu'd not his Love, but prov'd his fear To leave the Ship, and so decline the War; But he on foot to barbarous Phasis came, And noble actions soon redeem'd his Fame.

Idyllium XIV.

Eschines being scorn'd by Cunisca, who had a greater kindness for one Woolf, resolves to turn Souldier; His Friend Thynichus advises him to serve King Ptolomy.

To his Friend and Tutor Mr. Balch of Wadham Coll.

E.

GOod morrow Thynicus.

T.

The like to you;

E.

But why so late?

T.

So late? What ails thee now?

E.

All is not well:

T.

I see't, you look so thin, Your Face not washt, your Beard spread o're your Chin, now? Your Eye-brows thick, last night I chanc't to view •• Poor Phythagorist, and He lookt like you: ••••••le, barefoot, an Athenian, as He said, But, saith, He lookt as if on Meal He fed:

E.

You joque; But fair Cunisca scorns my Love, And as her hatred so my flames improve, And th•• perhaps I no such heats betray'd Yet I'me wit••in an Inch of stareing mad:

T.

You still were passionate, you still pursue What your perverse desire hath once in view, But preth••e tell me what disturbs anew:

E.

Tom, Wil••, an•• Dick, and I, a jovial Crew, Not minding Fate that did too close pursue,

Drank at my House, the Glass went briskly round, Our hearts were merry, and each head was crown'd; I made them welcome, got the best I cou'd, A sucking Pig, two Chicken, Country food, And, tho I say't my self, my Wine was good: Twas four years old, yet mild, I vow tis true, With Burrage mixt it drank as well as new: At last we voted each should crown a Glass What Health he pleas'd, but name whose health it was; We drank, and halloo'd, She mute all the while And sullen sate, without one word or smile; How was I vext to find a change so soon? What Mute? what have you seen a* 1.15 Woolf says one? At that she slusht, her guilty color rose, That you might light a Candle at her Nose: There's Woolf, there's Woolf, my Neighbour Labia's Son, Tall, slender, and the beauty of the Town: For him she burns, and sighs, and sighs again, And this I heard, but loath to find my pain, I let it lye, and grew a Man invain: When we were heated well, and slusht with Win••, One sang a Song of Woolf, a curst design,

For streight Cunisca wept at the surprize, And soon betray'd her passion at her Eyes; She wept as wanton Girls that leave their Pap, And would be dandled on their Mother's Lap: Then I, you know me, vext at this disdain; Fled at her, strook, and swore, and kickt again; She rose; Oh Mischief! can I please no more? Have you another Sweet-heart? Out you Whore; Must you do this now to confirm my fears? Go to him, toy, and court him with your tears: As swift as Swallows sweeping o're the Plain, To catch their young a fly, with nimble pain, Catch one, then feed, and streight return again; So quick she left her Seat, so swift her hast, So soon she thro the Hall and Parlor past, I scarce could see her move, she went so fast: Now twenty days, and ten, and nine, and eight, And one, and two are past; two months compleat; Yet still we differ, nor in all this space Have I shav'd once, regardless of my face: But she is Woolf's, and Woolf's her chief delight, For him she will unlock the Gate at night, But I am scorn'd, I can't be lookt upon, Sh••e'l scarce vouschase the favor of a f••own:

And yet, Dear friend, could I but break the chain And hate her once, all would be well again, But as the Proverb says, the heedless Mouse Hath bitten Pitch, and how shall he get loose? What Physick can these vexing Pains remove! I know no Cure for the disease of Love, Yet Dick, my friend, that equal pains endur'd For Betty, travell'd, and was quickly cur'd: And saith I'le travel too, I scorn to boast My Courage, yet I think I'me stout as Most:

T.

I wish Thou hadst enjoy'd thy just desire, And gain'd thy Love; But if Thou willt retire Serve Ptolomy, for He'l reward thy pain, Believ't, He loves a stout and honest Man;

E.

What other Vertues!

T.

Oh the greatest Mind, The sweetest: temper, Generous, and Kind, He marks his friend, but more he marks his foe, His hand is allways open to bestow: Petition modestly He grants the thing, And freely gives as it becomes a King; And therefore, Lover, if you bravely dare To ty your Snapsack on, and go to War, If Thou canst keep thy Post, and stand thy ground, And throw back on thy foe the comeing wound,

To Aegypt hast, make hast, e're youth decays, First from our Temples Age begins her race, Thence whitening Time creeps softly o're the face: Go on whilst youth is Green, and strength dost last, For when old Age draws nigh, the Time is past.

Idyllium XV.

Two tatling Gossips go to see the Pomp at Adonis's Feast, prepar'd by Arsinoe Ptolomy Philadelphus's Queen; The humors of the Weomen he hitts exactly; intermixes some praises of the King, and describes the Glory of the Pomp to gratify the Queen.

The Persons are Gorgo, Eunoe, Praxinoe, Nurse, Stranger and Mother.

To Mr. Rice Williams of Wadham Coll.

G.

SWeetheart, is my Praxinoe at home?

E.

She is dear Gorgo, but how late you come?

P.

I scarce expected you, and sate alone, A Chair and Cushion,

E

Ready:

P.

Pray sit down:

G.

Ah me, I scarce could get alive along So close the people press, so great the throng; Coaches thro every Street, and Liveries shine; Beside your dwelling is so far from mine:

P.

Yes, my cross Sot must leave his former Seat, And on the edge of th' World choose this retreat, More like a filthy Cave than like a House, And this he does, kind heart, to separate us, My constant plague, and my continual cross.

G.

Soft words, pray Madam, soft, see here's your Son, Look how he eyes you, and begins to frown:

P.

Cheer up my Child, I did not mean thy Dad,

N.

He understands her, he's a pretry Lad:

P.

He went last night, (old faults are all forgot,) To buy some Soap, and what d' ye think he bought? Bay Salt, longsided Fool, dull Booby Sot:

G.

Ah me, and mine's as bad, a squandring fool, Last Market day he went to cheapen Wool, And there five Fleeces for five Crowns he bought, All coath'd Sheep's Wool, meer dirt, not worth a Groat: But take your Hood and Scarf, and pray let's go, Let's hast to Court, for there's a gawdy show: Adonis Feast, and as I lately heard Our Royal Queen hath glorious sights prepar'd:

P.

Great Folks have all things fine, but pray now tell What you, for I saw nought, or nought so well:

G.

Another day, but now the minute calls, We that have nought to do have time for tales:

P.

Maid, Water quickly, faith I'le break your head, Go set it down; These Cats so love a bed, Drive them away, they'l spoyl my Cloth of State, But first the Water, there's most need of that: See how she speeds! come pour: but why so soon? A little more: what makes you wet my Gown?

Well, now I'me fairly washt the Gods be blest, But bring me streight the Key of my great Chest:

G.

This Mantoe sits extreamly well, I vow, What prize the Stuff? pray Madam let me know:

P.

It cost me twenty Shillings half a Crown, Twas dear, beside the work was all my own:

G.

Tis rare;

P.

Your Servant, Madam, bring my Hood, And Scarf, and dress me in the newest Mode; Dear Chuck, you must not go, my dear delight, For there are Bugbears, and the Horses bite, Nay you may cry, peace, peace, dear Mother's Child, Nay cry, but, Chuck, I must not have you kill'd: Here Betty take the Boy, and stay at home, Call Pretty in, and wait here till I come. O Jemminy, dear Gorgo, here's a throng, I wonder how we two shall get along: Great Ptolemy, beside a thousand things In which Thou hast excelld the former Kings; How many profits have thy care bestow'd Since Lagus dy'd and rose into a God? None now, as heretofore, infest the Street, Pick pockets, croud, and justle all they meet, What shall we do? you see we strive invain, Ah Dear, I wish I was at home again:

The Kings great Horses come, stand farther, friend, Dont tread upon me, see he rears an end, Look how he bounds, oh whether shall we run? Alas poor Soul, he'l throw his Rider down, Well, I am glad I did not bring my Son:

G.

Cheer up Praxinoe, come, the danger's past, And they are gone before, let's mend our hast:

P.

Well, now I'me comeing to my self again, A Horse, and a cold Serpents winding train ••allways hated; fy, we move too slow, Look there behind what Tides of People flow!

G.

Mother i'st you within?

M.

Yes Child, tis I,

G.

Can we get in pray Mother?

M.

Daughter try: For he that never trys can ne're enjoy; The Greeks by trying, Daughter, conquer'd Troy:

P.

She leaves us with a Riddle, what she means God knows, but sure she hath some hidden sence. Weomen know all below, and all above, E'en how Queen Juno was betroth'd to Jove: But look Praxinoe, how the People wait, How great a throng attends the crouded Gate:

P.

A vast one Gorgo: come, tis best to joyn, Hands round; here Gorgo, clap your hand in mine: Take Eutick Eunoe, that we may not loose Each other, come, thrust all, and still keep close:

Ah me, my veil is rent, pray, why d'ye press? My Gown! Good Sir, may Heaven conspire to bless, And you be happy Sir, as you forbear;

S.

I cannot, yet I'le take the greatest Care:

P.

The Croud increaseth, and they thrust like Swine,

S.

Come cherr up Madam, we are all got in:

P.

Well, may the bounteous Gods reward thy pain For helping us, thou art an honest Man, Poor Eunoe's justled still, she'l lose her Hood, Thrust Eunoe, stoutly thrust, and break the Croud; We are all in, as One (a Story) said When he had got his Mistress fast in Bed:

G.

Praxinoe look, what Hangings grace the Rooms, How fine, how rich, sure wrought in Heav'nly Looms: Oh strange, what hands could these fine things design? What Mortal Pencil draw so sweet a line? How real they appear? They seem to move, They are alive, I'me sure they can't be wove: Man's a wise thing, but see on yonder bed Adonis lies, Down o're his Cheeks is spread, Lovely Adonis, lov'd amongst the Dead:

S.

Hist, hist, your tatling silly talk forbear, Like Turtles you have Mouths from Ear to Ear:

G.

And who are you? Pray what have you to say If we will talk? Seek those that will obey,

Would you the Syracusian Weomen rule? Besides, to tell you more you medling Fool, We are Corinthians, that's no great disgrace, B••llerophon himself did boast that race: We speak our Language, use the Dorick tone, And, Sir, the Dores, sure, may use their own:

P.

Our Husbands are enough, let none pretend To rule beside; you are a sawcy friend, I'me ne're beholding t'ye, and there's an end:

G.

Peace, peace Praxinoe, streight in charming lays A Maid shall sing the dead Adonis praise, More soft than Sperchis in a mournful Song, Hark, she prepar's her voice, it won't be long▪ Great Goddess, joy of the Idalian Grove, To whom high Eryx Bows, fair Queen of Love, How charming was thy sweet Adonis lead By soft-soot hours from midst the silent Dead? The twelfth month came, when from the shades below Restord, what Beauty sate upon his Brow? The Hours the slowest of the Gods, tis true, Yet pleasing, for they still bring something new: Kind you (thus story says) did first remove Fair Berenice to the Seats above, And bath'd the Mortal in a Cup of Love:

And now Arsinoe, Helen's equal face, ••ust return does thy Adonis grace With all the fruit the various Earth can yeild, The Silver Basket brings from every field The choicest Flowers that please the curious Eye: In Gold the Syrian Odors breath, and dye: Of Flour and Hony mixt the sweetest Cake That Weomen's Luxury or Art can make: The Earth and Sea do give a vast supply, And Air sends all the various Kinds that fly: She raises fresh imaginary Groves, And all around do flutter wanton Loves, As new-fledgd Thrushes whilst the old one sings Do leap from bough to bough, and try their Wings: O Gold! See there two Ivory Eagles fly And bear young Ganymed thro the yielding Sky: See Purple Tapestry more soft than s••eep, This He'l confess that feeds Milesian Sheep: Oh happy Riches, see, two Beds are Made, And Venus here, there fair Adonis laid, A youthful Bride-groom, just mature for Bliss, No prickly Beard makes rough his pleasing Kiss: Let Venus have him, and his sweets embrace, To morrow e're the Dew forsakes the Grass

Wee'l bear him where the Waves foam round the shore Our Hair all loose, our Coats let down before, Our Breasts all bear, and as we march along With mournful voice, begin this Funeral Song: Adonis, of the Heroes you alone Now come to Ʋs, now go to Acheron; Not Agamemnon, not stout Ajax knew, And none enjoy'd the favor like to you: Not Hector, fruitful Priam's stoutest joy, Not Pyrrhus comeing from his conquer'd Troy: The Antient Lapithae Ducalion's race, Or brave Pelasgi Argo's chiefest grace: Kind now Adonis, next year kind remain, Now welcome, welcome when you come again:

G.

Ah dear Praxinoe, these are Curious things, O happy Creature, oh how well she sings! But I must go, for should m•• Husband come, He hath not din'd, and not find me at home, How he would fret, He's pettish, hates delay, Nor when He's hungry would I come in••s way. Farewel Adonis, now thy Pomp must cease; But still return, and still our joys encrease.

Idyllium XVI.

He complains that Poetry meets not a suitable Reward from Great Men, for that immortality which it bestows upon them.

To his very good Friend John Dryden Esquire.

THis is the Muses, this the Poets care To sing the Gods, and Men renown'd for War: The Muses Goddesses make Gods their theme, We Men sing Men, and raise them vast esteem? But who that lives below our pains regards? What open hand doth pour out fit rewards? Who doth receive us when we offer Fame? And send us back more wealthy than we came? The Muses baffled thus turn home again With naked feet, they sigh, they weep, complain, And frown at Me, when they have gone invain. Deep in the bottom of my empty Clest, A place too hollow, and too hard for rest, They sit and mourn; on their cold knees they lay Their bending heads, and sigh, and pine away: For who is brave? and who regards a Wit? I know not; few, ah few in praise delight:

For great and noble deeds as heretofore; Their Captive thoughts are ty'd to baser Ore: Their covetous hands they in their laps do fold, And scarce will give the Rust that eats their Gold: They cry, near is my Shirt, more near my Skin, Must I supply the hunger of the Nine? Let me grow rich in wealth, and Those in sence, A Poet is the care of Providence: What need of more since Homer lives? He brings No charge upon me, yet's the best that sings. Poor Men! what profits precious Ore that lies Heap't up within to feed the greedy Eyes? It yeilds a different profit to the wise: Some on themselves some part on Wits they spend, Some part their Kinsmen share, and some their friend; To every Man from them some goods accrew, And still the Gods receive their sacred due: He's kind and generous, nobly treats his guests, He never cloys, but pleases with his feasts. But chiefly to the Muses Sons they give, That after Death their lasting fame may live: And that they may not sit and mourn below, As those whose hands are hardned by the Plough Who sit, and sigh; and with a sad complaint For ever weep hereditary Want:

Antiochus once kept a kingly board, A thousand Menial Servants call'd him Lord: A thousand Heifers fed at Scopa's stall, Ten thousand horned Bulls low'd thro his vale, The kind Creondae fed their numerous Flocks, Their brouzing Goats still hung on Thousand Rocks: Yet when their naked Souls began to float Breath'd out in Air, and stow'd in Charon's Boat, They left their wealth beyond the Stygian shore, The crazy Vessel could not waft their Ore; And each had lain amidst the vulgar, lost, Unheard, untalkt of, like a common Ghost, Unless his Poet with exalted rage Had strook his Harp, and given them future Age. 'Tis Verse that doth with lasting Honor's grace The swiftest Horse that wins the sacred race: His Crowns had wither'd he had lost his name, Too slow to keep an equal pace with Fame: Who had the Lycians, who the Trojans known? What Fame once-female Cycnus Glory blown? Unless a Poet with immortal Song Had told their fights, and made their Wars so long? Ʋlysses, He thro various dangers tost For seven long years, that toucht at every Coast,

That He that saw the Stygian shades and liv'd, That scap't the Cyclops, had his fame surviv'd; Eumaeus, mingled with the Common Dead, Had lain as nameless as the Ox he fed, And wholy vanisht with his parting breath, If Homer had not snatcht his name from Death: The Muses raise Men's worth, their Fame they spread, Whilst Heirs consume the riches of the Dead: And 'tis a task I'me sure of equal ease To tell how many Tempests toss the Seas, With what fierce Storms the troubled Ocean roars, How many Waves it rouls to trembling Shores, To wash a Blackmore white, as to unbind A Gripeing Niggard's close contracted mind, And force him to be generous and kind: A Curse on such, vast heaps of useless Ore May those enjoy, and yet still wish for more; 'Twas allways so, and 'tis my humor still, Much more than Wealth I value Men's good-will: And now I seek what Patron I may choose, And where I may be welcome with my Muse: For Poets find but small returns of Love Without their Muse, thus stands the will of Jove: The Heaven's not weary whilst it whirls the Sun, And thousand Steeds shall draw the Charriot on,

A Man shall rise that shall my Songs employ As great as fam'd Achilles fought at Troy: As great as Ajax where smooth Simois flow'd, And Phrygian Ilu's Tomb lay drown'd in Blood; The Carthaginians dread approaching War, Forget their fury, and consent to fear: The Syracusian Troops spread ore the field, Their right-hands grace a Spear, their left a shield; These Hiero leads as antient Heroes brave, His dreadful Crest doth o're his Shoulders wave: But oh our Guardian Jove, revenge our Blood, And toss our Foes o're the Sardinian flood, Scatter their force, and send few home to tell The Wives and Children how their Fathers fell: Let old Inhabitants possess their Isle; And raise new Towns where Foes did lately spoyl; The Fields be green, and thro the fruitful Plain Great flocks of Sheep grow fat, and bleat again: The labouring Oxen bend beneath the Plough, And, slowly walking thro the Vallies, low: The Fields be reapt whilst under every shade The Insects sing, and make the Reapers glad: The Spiders weave in Sheilds, all free from fear, And hardly know the very name of War:

Let riseing Poets bear the sounding praise Of Hiero beyond the Scythian Seas; Beyond proud Babylon extend his Fame, And tell to distant worlds his glorious Name: I am but one, but more Jove's Daughters love, More wise than I am, and more apt to move: And these smooth Arethusa's streams shall sing, The brave Sicilians, and their valiant King: Ye Goddesses that Orchomenium grace The scourge and hatred of the Theban race, Uncall'd I'le stay, to those that shall invite My Muse shall offer honor and delight: I'le never leave you; what will Men receive Without the Graces? what is fit to give? O, may I ever with the Graces live!

Idyllium XVII.

A Panegerick to King Ptolemy.

To Ambrose Brown of — Esquire.

BEgin with Jove, my Muse, and end with Jove, If you would sing the greatest God above, But if you would the best of Men reherse, Let Ptolemy's great name adorn your Verse; Let him the first, midst, last, your Songs employ, The darling of Mankind, the common joy: The Heroes born of Gods, and great in fame, Had noble Poets to record their name; And I, well skill'd in Song, with lasting lays Sing him, E'en Gods we do reward with praise: In shady Ida, where the Woods are thick, The Woodman comes, but doubts where first to strike And where shall I? there croud a thousand things, With which the Gods have blest the best of Kings: His father Lagus, who so bravely great? So deeply skill'd in all the Arts of State? What Age could boast a Prince so great so good? His Mind was high, and noble as his Blood:

Him Jove doth grace with an immortal Throne, And give a golden Palace next his own: Next Alexander sits, the Wise, the Great, A miter'd God, and checks the Persian State: Just opposite Alcides Throne doth shine, Of sparkling Diamond, the work divine; And whilst on Nectar with the Gods he feasts, He smiles too see his race his equal guests: On each great Jove repreive from Age bestow'd, And call'd immortal, rais'd into a God: When fragrant Nectar Bowls have rais'd his fires, And from the feast he to his Wife retires, His Ensigns he delivers to the Two One bears his knotty Club, and one his Bow; With these they both in decent order move, And thus to beauteous Hebe's bed of Love Their father lead, the great encrease of Jove: How Berenice shone! His charming Bride, Her Sexe's glory, and her Parents pride; Her Venus nurst with a peculiar care, And blest with all the charms that grace the fair; That e'en bold Fame it self scarce dares to tell That any Prince e're lov'd his Wife so well As generous Ptolemy his beauteous Queen; And yet he meets with greater love agen!

He Quits his State, and business of his Thrones, He leaves his Kingdom to his Loyal Sons, Whilst he to her with hasty wishes moves, And goes to play the Heroe in his Loves: A faithless Wife lets all her thoughts and cares On others rove, with easy pains she bears, Her House is full, but of the numerous race Not one can show the joyful Father's face: Fair Venus chiefest Beauty of the Sky She liv'd thy care, nor can her honor dye; Your kindness snatcht her from the Stygian shore, E're grisly Charon came to waft her o're, You gave a shrine, and taught us to adore: Just like a falling Star thrown down by Fate; You caught, and made her Partner of your State; Thence kind to all she gentle Cares inspires; And warms the Lovers breasts with pleasing fires: The fair Deipale did to Peleus bear Stout Diomed, that mighty Son of War, And beauteous Thetis to her Peleus bore The fam'd Achilles on the Grecian shore, But Berenice hath these Births outdone, She brought great Ptolemy as great a Son; First Coos danc't Thee, Thee, Mankind's delight, She took Thee at thy first approach to light,

For there thy Mother to Lucina pray'd To ease her throws, and found a speedy Aid; She came, stood by, and gently loos'd her pain, Thy very birth was easy as thy reign: The Island took Thee in her Arms, and smil'd To view the Father's Image in the Child: She shouted, and she said, Ah lovely Boy, Be born, Thy Father's Soul, be born my joy: Welcome, on me as great a Fame bestow, As Delos does to her Apollo owe: Thus spake the I'sle; an Eagle soar'd above And mixt with Clouds; the Bird of mighty Jove, With joyful sound thrice clapt auspicious Wings, 'Twas Jove's own sign, Jove is the Guard of Kings: But whom he loves as soon as he began, That lives the Potent, that the happy Man All else must yeild, and o're the Sea and Land With conquering Arms he spread a wide command: A thousand Nations boast their fruitful Plains, Where gentle Jove descends in easy rains, But none such Crops as sandy Egypt shows, Where Nile with his enriching streams o'reflows, And what the barren Clouds deny, bestows: No Nation bears, no Nation boasts to see So many Towns, and Men of Art as She,

Full Thirty Thousand Towns enjoy the sway Of Ptolemy, and eagerly obey: The stout Phaenicians too have felt his Sword, Arabia, Syria, Lybia call him Lord; The Ethiopians, the Pamphilian Horse, The Lycians, Carians own his nobler force: The Isles; for where his Navy spreads her Wings Homage to Him, and Peace to all she brings: So far his Scepters reach, and Sea, and Land And purling Streams obey his just Command: Vast Troops of Horse and Foot well arm'd for War So dreadful gay in graceful ranks appear, That e'en their proudest Foes consent to fear: His Treasure richer than e're known before, And other Kings scarce wish so great a store; All Nations send their Customs every day, And their due Tribute to his Ocean pay: The Farmer fearless ploughs his fruitful soil, No Hostile Navies press the quiet Nile; None leaps a Shore, and frights the labouring Swains, None robs us of our Flocks, and spoyls the Plains: Thus Ptolemy secures his Land from Harms, So fear'd by All he sits, so great in Arms: So careful to preserve his antient right,

This shows a King, and for new Conquests fight: And yet he doth not hoord his useless Ore, As painful Ants still turn their bury'd store; With much the Temples of the Heroes shine; His first-fruits, and his gifts sill every shrine, Much Gold to powerful neighbouring Kings he sends, Much to his Subjects, much to valiant Friends: None fam'd for Song, none great in Arts appears No charming voice can ravish listning Ears, But streight He favors, He rewards imparts, And sends them presents equal to their Arts: And therefore Poets with exalted rage Send down their Patron's praise to future Age; At what more noble can the wealthy aim Than to secure a fair, and lasting Fame? Of Great Atrides this remains alone, Whilst are the Stores of Wealth He rais'd, are gone: What e're he brought from Troy hath scap't the light, And now lies bury'd in Eternal night. He first his Glorious Parents made divine, To both He incense burns, and rears a shrine: How great they stand! how Gems their shrines enfold, And hide the Ivory, and the poorer Gold! How great they stand! what various goods bestow!

Supply our wants, and guard frail Man below: He stains red Altars with a Thousand Beasts As Months roul round, and bring the solem Feasts: He and his Queen, than whom kind Fortune led No fairer Woman to a greater Bed; There She with joy the Natural ties improves, And both as Brother, and as Husband loves: This Gods approve, thus they themselves are ty'd, And Juno lives Jove's Sister, and his Bride; Fair perfum'd Iris makes one Bed for both, Where Pleasure's hightned by eternal youth: Hail glorious Ptolemy, hail mighty King; Thee equal to the Gods my Muse shall sing; And future Age shall all my Songs approve; Great King, beg Vertue, and encrease of Jove:

Idyllium XVIII.

An Epithalamium at the Marriage of Helena and Menelaus.

To Edward Courthope Esquire.

AT Sparta's Palace twenty beauteous Maids, The Pride of Greece, fresh Garlands crown'd their heads With Hyacinth and twineing Parsly drest, Grac't joyful Menelaus Marriage Feast; When lovely Helen great in conquering charms Resign'd her willing Beauty to his Arms: They danc't around, Joy flow'd from every tongue, And the vast Palace sounded with the Song: And why fair Bridegroom why so sleepy grown, And why to Bed e're shady Night comes on? What have you danct too much? Wine seiz'd your head, Or are you drowsy, that you must to Bed? But if you needs must sleep, then sleep alone, But why must Helen too your Bride be gone? Why must She leave her tender Mother thus? She should sit up, and play, and dance with us,

She should sit up till the bright Sun should rise, And Stars recede less beauteous than her eyes: For, Menelaus, She for all thy life For Morning, Night, and Noon must be thy Wife: O happy Bridegroom! Thee a lucky sneeze To Sparta welcom'd, where the youths of Greece Her chiefest Pride, did offer humble Love, Yet you were chose to be ally'd to Jove: A Beauty, such as never Greece did view, Now sleeps between the common Sheets with you: O happy Bridegroom, what thy Bride shall bear If like her self, it must be wondrous fair: Two hundred Spartan Maids, her Equalls We, That wrestled, fought, and ran as well as She, And e'en out did the Men; yet none appear A spotless Beauty if compar'd to Her: Just as the Morning shows her lovely face, When Winter's gone, and lazy Night withdraws, Just so doth Helen's charming Beauties rise, Tall, fair and fram'd by Nature to surprize: As Trees a Field, swift Steeds a Chariot grace, So Sparta is adorn'd by Helen's face: In all the Bride doth easily excell, None Spins with so much Art, none Weaves so well:

When She Diana or Minerva sings, None tunes so soft as She the speaking strings; That She, whose motions Charm, whose looks surprize, And Thousand Cupids wanton in her Eyes: Ah fair, ah lovely, of an envy'd life, Ah fair, and blest in being made a Wife; But we will run thro yonder spatious Mead, And crop flesh flowry Crowns to grace thy head; Mindful of Helen still, as tender Lambs Not wean'd as yet when hungry mind their Dams: We'l first low Lotus pluck, and Crowns compose And to thy Honor grace the shady Boughs, From Silver Boxes sweetest Oyls shall flow, And press the Flowers rhat rise as sweet below, And then inscribe this line, that all may see, Pay due Obedience, I am Helen's Tree: All Joy fair Bride, and happy Bridegroom joy, Let kind Latona give a lovely Boy, Let Venus, Goddess Venus mutual Love, And lasting Riches be bestow'd by Jove; That still they may descend, and grace the Throne From noble Father, to a noble Son: Sleep in each other Arms, and raise desire, Let ardent breathings fan your mutual Fire,

But rise betimes, forget not, we'l return When first the crowing Cock shall wake the Morn, When thro his feather'd throat He sends his voice: O Hymen, Hymen at this Feast rejoyce:

Idyllium XIX. On Love stung by a Bee.

WHen Wanton Love design'd to theive, And steal the Hony from the Hive, An impious Bee his Finger stung, And thus reveng'd the proffer'd wrong; He blew his Fingers vext with pain, He stampt, and star'd but all in vain, At last unable to endure To Venus runs, and begs a cure; Complaining that so slight a touch And little thing should wound so much: She smil'd, and said, Son, Thou art like a Bee, Little, yet how great wounds are made by Thee!

Idyllium XX.

A Shepherd complains of the coyness of a City Maid, who refus'd his proffer'd Kiss.

To His good Humor'd Friend Mr. Alexander Crook of Wadham Colledge.

EƲnica flouted me, She scorn'd my Kiss And when I proffer'd, answered with a hiss; Begon rough Shepherd thou dost ask invain, I faith I am not us'd to Kiss a Swain, The City Lips I press, and only them, Thou should not Kiss me, no, not in a Dream: How odd thy Courtship! and how dull thy jest! How languishing thy words, and how exprest! How soft and sweet thy voice! thy looks how fair! How smooth thy Chin! what Curls adorn thy Hair! Thy Lips are broken out, and black thy hand, Thy smell is rank, B••gon, I shall be stain'd. This said then thrice she spit, and view'd me round From head to foot, and mutter'd still, and frownd, Still scornfully she lookt, and mighty proud Of her fair Face, she sneerd, and laught aloud,

My blood began to boyl, my face was flusht, And, like a Rose with Dew o'recharg'd, I blusht: She left me streight, but I am vext at this That she proud Slut should flout, when I would Kiss: Am I not Handsome? tell me smiling Swains, For I was once the Beauty of the Plains, Tell me, have I no charms, no pleasing grace, Or hath some God oth' sudden chang'd my face? For I was handsome once, my Cheeks were red, My Beard like Ivy round an Oak was spread, And bushy hair like Parsly crown'd my head: My snowy forehead two black Eyebrows crost, My Eyes as grey as Palla's self could boast, My Mouth more sweet than Curds, my words did slow As smooth as Oyl, and soft as falling Snow: My Songs are charming, whilst my Flocks do feed I blow my Hougtboy, Pipe, or Oaten reed, Oft have I seen my Lambs forsake their grass And listning by with silent wonder gaze; And all the Country Maids my Face esteem, They kiss, and beg me I would stay with them: Are these small charms, that she should these despise? But I'me a Shepherd Swain, for that she flys, For that the City Maids refuse a Kiss,

Well, let them scorn, poor fools, they hardly know That beauteous Bacchus, fed a Herd below, Or that fair Venus wanton'd with a Swain, And fed his Cattle in the Phrygian Plain, With sweet Adonis oft she prov'd the Joy In Groves, in Groves she mourn'd the lovely Boy: Endymion was a Swain, he kept a flock, And yet for him the Moon her Skies forsook, She scorn'd a Scepter and embrac't a Crook: One Cave held both, with him she reapt delight, Came down, lay by, and kisst him all the night: E'en Rhea mourns a Swain, and mighty Jove Took Eagle's Wings, and bore a Swain above: A Swain this proud Eunica scorns alone, Better than Venus, Rhea, or the Moon: Venus, the fault was yours, you taught her pride, May, therefore, thine, thy Love be still deny'd; May you endure an injur'd Lover's pain, Ne're kiss thy Sweet, ne're wanton o're the Plain, But lye alone all night, and wish in vain.

Idyllium XXI.

A discourse of two Fishermen upon a Dream.

To Mr. Tho. Dunstar of Wadham Colledge.

'TIS Poverty, dear Friend, improves our Arts, It teaches Wit, and working thoughts imparts; For Cares chace Sleep from his laborious head Who sweats to earn, before he eats his bread: If lazy slumbers o're his eyes do creep, Streight noisy cares rush in, and break his sleep. Two good old Fishers slept, their bed was Sedge, Their Roof was Straw, their Walls a rotten Hedge, And round just by lay Baskets, Hooks, and Lines, Their Wiers, Sedgy Nets, their Rods, and Skins, Drawn up on some old Plank a tatter'd Boat, Their Pillow Straw, their Rugg a ragged Coat, Their Caps hung by upon a broken Oar, These were there tackling, and this all their store. Not one small Pot upon their Shelf was laid, All useless seem'd but what concern'd their trade; Thus blest they liv'd, and happy in content With their Companions, Poverty and Want:

No neighbour near, and every riseing tide Their Hovel reacht, and shook its tottering side: From midst of Heaven the Moon view'd all below, When dreams of Labor wakt the sleeping two; Each with his Thumb wip'd rest from off his Eyes, And sang, and cheer'd themselves with these replies:

A.

They lye, dear friend, that say the night decays When Summer comes, and Jove brings longer days; For I have seen a thousand dreams to night Long tedious dreams, and yet 'tis far from light;

B.

You blame the Summer, but unjustly blame, The Hours are still forc't on, their pace the same; But vexing Cares, that in a buisy throng Disturb your head, do make night seem so long:

A.

Can you interpret Dreams, Friend, tell me true, I've dreamt fine things, which I would tell to you: For that will ease me, and divert my Care, As we our Fish, so we our Dreams will share:

B.

Then tell thy friend.

A.

If you remember well We suppt too late, and made a spareing meal: On yonder shelving Rock methought I stood, And stoopt, intent upon the quiet flood; I saw the Fish, my Hook let gently down, And shook my cheating Bait to draw them on:

A great one bit, (for Fish is still my Theme, As Dogs of bones, so I of fishes dream) I strook, and hung him fast, I saw the Blood, The weight was great, I'me sure it bent the Rod; I strove to reach him, for my Line was weak, And faith, I fear'd my bending Hook would break, Dost prick me, for he prickt, I'le grasp the more, And so at last I drew my prey to shore; A golden Fish, I stood amaz'd, and feard 'Twas one of Neptune's own beloved herd: Or one of Sea green Amphitrite's train, A noble Fish, the treasure of the Main: I loos'd him gently, and did stricktly look That no small grain stuck round the rugged Hook: With Cords I drew him, and devoutly swore, That I would venture out to Sea no more; But stay at home, and make my self a King: At this I wakt, do you adjust the thing, Pray tell me what you think, for I'me afraid That I am bound to keep the Oath I made:

B.

Fear not, my friend, you did not swear, for why, You found no Fish, a Vision's but a lye: And therefore go, and draw the usual streams, Seek real Fish, no•• starve with golden dreams.

Idyllium XXII.

A scorn'd Shepherd hangs himself, the cruel fair is kill'd by the Statue of Cupid.

To Mr. Rily Painter to his Majesty.

AN Amorous Shepherd lov'd a charming Boy, As fair thought could frame, or wish enjoy, Unlike his Soul, illnatur'd and unkind, An Angells body with a Fury's mind: How great a God Love was, He scorn'd to know, How sharp his arrows, and how strong his bow, What rageing wounds he scatters here below. In his address and talk fierce, rude, untame, He gave no comfort to the Shepherd's flame: No cherry Lips, no Rose his Cheeks did dye, No pleasing Fire did sparkle in his Eye, Where eager thoughts with fainting Vertue strove, No soft discourse, nor Kiss to ease his Love: But as a Lion on the Lybian Plain Looks on his Hunters, he beheld the Swain: His Lips still pouting, and his Eyes unkind, His Forehead too was rough as was his Mind; His Colour gone, and every pleasing Grace Beset by fury had forsook his face:

Yet midst his passion, midst his frowns he mov'd, As these were Charms He was the more belov'd: But when or'e come he could endure no more, He came and wept before the hated door, He wept and pin'd, he hung his sickly head, The threshold kisst, and thus at last he said: Ah cruel fair, and of a Tigress born! Ah stony Boy, compos'd of frowns and scorn: Unworthy of love, this Rope receive, The last, and wellcomst Present I can give: I'le never vex thee more, I'le cease to wo And whether you condem'd freely go, Where certain Cures for Love, as Stories tell, Where dismal shades, and dark Oblivion dwell: Yet did I drink the whole forgetful Stream, It would not drown my Love, nor quench my flame: Thy cruel doors I bid my last Adieu, Know what will come; and you shall find it true: The Day is fair but quickly yields to shades, The Lilly white, but when 'tis pluck it fades: The Violet lovely, but it withers soon, Youths beauty charming, but tis quickly gone: The time shall come when you, proud Boy, shall prove The heat of Passion, and the rage of Love: Then shall thy Soul melt thro thy weeping Eye, Whilst all shall smile, and you unpitty'd dye.

Yet grant one kindness, and I ask no more, When you shall see me hanging at the door Do not go proudly by, forbear to smile, But stay, sweet Boy, and gaze, and weep a while; Then take me down, and whilst some tears are shed, Thy own soft garment o're my body spread, And grant one Kiss, one Kiss when I am dead: Nere fear, for you may safely grant me this, •• shan't revive tho you could Love, and Kiss: Then dig a Grave, there let my Love be laid, And when you part, say thrice, my friend is dead, Or else go farther on to please my Ghost, And cry, my best, my dearest friend is lost: And on my Monument inscribe this Rhime, The witness of my Love and of thy Crime, This Shepherd dy'd for Love, stay Stranger here, And weep, and cry, He lov'd a cruel fair: This said, he roll'd a Stone, a mighty Stone, Fate lent a hand behind, and pusht it on: High by the Wall, on this he panting rose, And ty'd, and sitted well the fatal noose: Then from the place on which before he stood He slipt, and hung the Door's unhappy load: The Boy came forth, and with a scornful Meine And smileing look beheld the tragick Scene;

Hang there said He, but O how I despise So base, so mean a Trophy of my Eyes! The proudest Kings should fall by my disdain, Too noble to be lost upon a Swain: This said, he turn'd, and as he turn'd his head His Garments were polluted by the Dead, Thence to the Plays and to the Baths did move, The Bath was sacred to the God of Love; For there he stood in comely Majesty Smiles on his Cheeks, and softness in his Eye, That part of th' Marble wrought into his Breast By Power divine was softer than the rest, To show how Pitty did exactly suit With Love, and was his darling Atribute: The God leapt forth, and dasht the Boy, the Wound Let out his Soul, and as it fled He groan'd. Hail Lovers, hail, see here the scornful dyes, A just, and acceptable Sacrifice, Be kind, and Love for mutual Love return, For see the God takes vengeance on my scorn.

Idyllium XXIII.

Hercules in his Cradle kills two Serpents which Juno sent to destroy him &c.

To Mr. William Latton of Wadham Colledge.

ALcides ten months old, a vigorous Child, Alcmena fed, and laid him on a Shield, (The Shield from Pterilus Amphitryo won A great auspicious Cradle for his Son;) With younger Iphiclus of human race, No part of him was drawn from Jove's embrace: On either head her tender hands she laid, And with a Mother's fondness thus she said; Sleep, sleep, dear Children, sleep, be free from pain, Rest well to night, to morrow wake again: This said she stopt, and rockt the sounding Shield, Iphiclus wept, and young Alcides smil'd: Sleep seiz'd on both: Now Mid-night's shade came on, The flying Bear in hast was tumbling down, And broad Orion's Shoulder did appear With's Sword, as still pursueing of the Bear; When wily Juno full of envious hate Drove on two dreadful Serpents to the Gate,

She forc't the Doors, and shew'd the Open way Designing young Alcides For their prey: Their Scaly trains roll'd o're the trembling floor, Their fiery Eyes shot sulphurous flames before, And from their Jaws dropt clods of Putrid gore: When near they roll'd, and did the Infants touch, E'en Sleep it self streight fled at their approach, The Children wak't, and, by Jove's order, light Shot thro the gloomy darkness of the Night: Iphiclus cry'd as soon as he beheld The Snakes twist round, and gapeing o're the Shield, He kickt the Cloaths, and tost, for flight prepar'd, As if he meant to shun the Fate he fear'd: But young Alcides stretcht his Infant hands, And graspt the rolling Snakes with fatal bands, He seiz'd their swelling throats, where stor'd by Fate Their Poyson lies, which e'en the Gods do hate: In that Death dips her darts, then takes her rounds, And on frail Mortals scatters certain wounds: Each twisted round the Babe a dreadful fold, But still he graspt, and took the firmer hold, The Babe, not wean'd as yet, in Mind a Man, He show'd his Race as soon as he began: In's Nurses Arms he ne're was heard to cry, No tear e're dropt from his unwilling Eye:

At last tir'd out they both extended lay, The Infants spoyl, his first auspicious prey: Alcmena's Ears first heard the tender crys, She started first, and said Amphytrio, rise; Rise, rise, thy aid a sudden danger calls, Do'st hear how loud the younger Infant bawls? Do'st see these Walls shine with unusual light, For yet the Morning hath not chac't the Night; There's some strange thing, there is, Rise, rise my Dear, From Danger free thy Babes, thy Wife from Fear: She spake, Amphitryo rose, such hast he show'd As nimble Lightning from a breaking Cloud, He snatcht his Sword, which o're his valiant head Hung allways fastned to the Cedar bed, A strong Belt held it, tough, and neatly made, He graspt the Sheath, and drew the flameing Blade; When streight the light withdrew its wondrous rays, In darkness left him; and in wild amaze: Still startled more, Lights Slaves, Slaves Lights, he cryes, Lights Slaves, deep sleep sat heavy on their Eyes: Lights Maids, They heard, and quick as the command, A flameing Torch now shone in every hand, They all rush in; with troubled hast they come, And buisy throngs streight fill the crouded Room:

But when they saw two Snakes twist round the Child They shreikt, and wept; the young Alcides smil'd: Held out the Snakes, pleas'd with the guilded sight, Laught at his own success, and their affright; Disdain'd those Foes that with such ease He slew, And at his Fathers feet the Monsters threw: Half dead Iphiclus on her tender brest Alcmena clapt, and lull'd him into rest: The other Babe on Skins of slaughter'd sheep Amphitryo laid, and then return'd to sleep; When thrice the Cock had Crow'd to wake the Sun, Alcmena starting from her Bed of Down Tiresias call'd, from whom Truth always fell, Scarce Phoebus knew the mind of Fate so well: She told the tale, and said, thrice reverend Seer Explain the meaning, I' me prepar'd to hear: Nor yet to pleasure me conceal the doom, Or bad or good, what Fate hath wove must come: Thus spake the Queen, and thrice his reverend Head Tiresias shook, and thus at last he said: Hail mighty Queen, the pride of Person's blood, Happy, and Mother of a future God: The time shall come as years bring round the days, When Grecian Maids shall sing Alcmena's praise, And as they weave, or whirl their Spindle rou••d From every tongue Alcmena's name shall sound;

The Grecians goddess thou shalt grace a shrine, So great thy Son shall be, and so divine! A generous Hero he shall mount on high, The noblest burthen of the bending Sky: To Him all Monsters, and all Men must yield, The Tyrant's Scourge, and the Oppressed's Shield▪ Twelve labors pass'd he shall the Skies enjoy, When Oeta's flames have purg'd the base alloy: Be call'd their Son in Law, appease their Hate Who rais'd these Snakes, and sent them to his Fate. Then Woolves shall see young Fawns approach their Den, And let them part unhurt, and safe again, So great a Scourge he shall to Monsters prove, And shed such Influence from his Seat above: But Queen observe, and let a Pile be made, Green Oaks, and Ash, and Birch in order laid: Then cut these Snakes, observe the time they came To eat the Babe, and burn them o're the flame: At morning peep soon quench the blazeing wood, And scatter all the Ashes o're the flood, And thence return, but with a steddy pace, Nor look behind on the polluted place: Then let pure Brimstone purge the Rooms, and bring Clear Fountain water from the sweetest Spring;

This mixt with Salt, with blooming Olives crown'd, Spread o're the Floor, and purge polluted ground: Then kill a Bore to Jove, that free from harms The Child may live, and Victory crown his Arms. This said, he bow'd, and with a staggering gate For years oppress't him, reacht his Ivory Seat. And now the Boy, his Mother's pride, was grown Like riseing Oaks, and thought Amphitryo's Son: In Letter's Linus did his Mind enlarge, A generous Hero, watchful of his charge: Eumolpus tun'd his manly voice to sing, And taught his hand to strike the tuneful string: Eurytus famous for his vast Estate To draw the Bow, and shoot as sure as Fate: To Leap, to Wrestle and to throw the Dart He learn't from fierce Autolycus's Art, Sweet Herme's Son who when he fought his Foe None dar'd, tho distant, to behold his Brow: Such frightful fierceness did in's looks appear And shot thro the amaz'd Spectators fear: To drive the Chariot, and with steddy skill To turn, and yet not break the bending Wheel Amphitryo kindly did instruct his Son; Great in that Art, for he himself had won

Vast pretious prizes on the Argive Plains, And still the Chariot, which he drove, remains, For nought but eating Time could break his Reins; To weild his Sword, and to assault his Foe, To use his Shield, and shun the comeing blow, To order Battles, and to raise their force, Close Ambush lay, and lead the furious Horse, Stout Castor taught, when he from Argos fled, Basely deserted by the force he led, When Tydeus Arms the fatal Conquest won, And forc't the weak Adrastus from his Throne: Few of the Heroes equall'd him in Fight E're trembling Age had put strong Youth to flight: Thus grew the Boy his Mother's care and pride, His bed was rais'd by his great Father's side, Spread with a Lion's Skin, whose Jaws affright The weaker Youths, but were this Boys delight: When young he often would unsheath their Paws, And use his tender Hands to break their Jaws; And when one Tooth was broke, with smiles would meet, And cast his Trophies at his Mother's feet: His food was roasted flesh, his loaf was great, As large as e'en a labouring Swain could eat:

A spareing Meal, and unprepar'd at night, His Cloaths were made for covering, not delight: Thus hardly bred the mighty Hero grew, Well fitted for the wonders He must do.

Imperfect in the Greek.

Idyllium XXIV.

A Dialogue between Daphnis and a Shepherdess.

To Thomas Powel of Wadh. Col. Esquire.

D.

PAris a Herdsman Helen stole, tis said, And she that kisst me is as fair a Maid:

S.

Pride not thy self, what empty thing's a Kiss!

D.

And yet that empty thing is full of Bliss;

S.

I wash my mouth, and thus thy Kiss disdain;

D.

Dost wash my Dear? then come, let's Kiss again:

S.

Swain thou shouldst kiss thy Heifer, not a Maid:

D.

Don't scorn, thy youth, like dreams, will quickly fade,

S.

The Grape, when dry, grows Raisin, and is priz'd. Nor is the Rose, tho wither'd, soon despis'd:

D.

Come to these Shades, I've tales ne're told before

S.

Once your sweet tongue deceiv'd, I'le trust no more.

D.

Go with me to those Elms, and here my Flute,

S.

Go please thy self, I hate so harsh a note:

D.

Let fear of Venus anger seize thy mind,

S.

A fig for Venus, if Diana's kind;

D.

Ah speak not thus lest she should fix her Chain, The noose is strong, and you may strive invain.

S.

Ay, let her do't, I live Diana's care, And she shall quickly free me from her Snare, Hands off Rude Swain, I vow I'le scratch, forbear,

D.

You must not scape, no Maid e're scap't Loves stroke,

S.

I'le scape, by Pan, but thou shallt bear his Yoke;

D.

To meaner Swains I fear you will be kind,

S.

Many have woo'd, none yet e're pleas'd my Mind:

D.

And I am one that woo, and would obtain:

S.

What shall I do? Marriage is full of pain,

D.

Not grief and pain, but Joy attends the Bed;

S.

Sure I have heard that Wives their Husbands dread:

D.

No, no, they rule, for what should Weomen fear?

S.

Child-birth is hard, and I'me afraid to bear:

D.

No fear, o're that thy own Diana reigns, And gives a speedy ease to Mother's pains:

S.

Yet I'me affraid, should many Births prevail My Beauty fades, and then your Love may fail:

D.

Yet should you bear fine Boys, a Happy Wife, How would you look into a future Life!

S.

But come, what Joynture, Swain, if I should yeild;

D.

My Flocks, my Herds, my Woods, and all my Field:

S.

Swear then, lest when enjoy'd you false should prove,

D.

Never by Pan, if you'l consent to Love:

S.

Will you a Bed, a House, and Meat provide?

D.

All this shall be the Dowry of my Bride?

Look, all these Flocks are mine, I'le still be true, And promise you no more than I can do:

S.

What shall I say when my old Friends shall blame?

D.

They'l like the Marriage when they hear my name:

S.

Then tell thy name, for names do often please,

D:

Daphnis, my Father's joy, and Mother's ease; His name is Lycidas the noble Swain, Her's Neme, once the Beauty of the Plain:

S.

Thy race is noble, but yet mine's as good,

D.

But no ways better, for in yonder Wood Menalcas lives, the Fountain of thy Blood.

S.

Show me thy Grove, and where thy Sheep-Coat lies:

D.

These are my Trees, look how my Cypress rise;

S.

Feed Goats, whilst I attend the Herdman's Love,

D.

Feed Bulls, I go to show the Maid my Grove:

S.

Rude Swain, what means your hand upon my breast?

D.

The Cluster's ripe, and sueing to be presst: Those I must pluck; oh! with what Heat they move! And how they rise at every touch of Love!

S.

I quake, pull out your hand, rude Swain, forbear;

D.

Cheer up, no harm, how timerous is my Dear!

S.

'Tis Dirty, ah! look there, twill stain my Gown, And tell my jealous friends what I have done:

D.

I'le spread my Jerkin, 'tis a scurvy place But ••'me content to pay for the embrace:

S.

Forbear, we shall be caught, I hear a noise,

D.

Tis nought but Trees that murmur at our joys;

S.

You•• tear my Coat, ah me, I am undone.

D.

I'le buy a larger, and a better Gown:

S.

You promise all things now, but, when enjoy'd, What willt thou give? Love's gone when Lust is cloy'd: You will deceive, you Men are all deceit, And we so willing to believe the cheat:

D.

O, could I give my Soul, what Oaths can do Ile bind; I must, I cannot but be true:

S.

I yeild, forgive Diana, O forgive, I liv'd thy Votary, but no more can live:

D.

Pleas'd, Ravisht, O, I'le kill in yonder Grove A Steer to Venus; and a Bull to Love:

S.

I'me Woman grown that was a Maid before,

D.

A teeming Woman, and a Maid no more: Thus murmuring they did their soft Heats improve, And went, and knew the Mystery of Love: She rose, and smil'd, and banis••t Modesty Regain'd her Seat, and sate upon her Eye: Yet secret Pleasure thro her looks appear'd; And joyful Daphnis went, and fed his Herd.

Idyllium XXV.

A short account of the Death of Pentheus the Theban King, whom his Mother and Aunts tore in Pieces for disturbing the Solemnities of Bacchus.

To Mr. Dring of Wadh. Col.

I NO, the fierce Autonoe, and the fair Agau three Thyrsi to the Hills did bear, In number Three; they pluckt wild Oaks and Bays, And in plain Fields did twelve green Altars raise; With Ivy shaded, and adorn'd with Vine, Fair Semele had Three, and Bacchus Nine, Bacchus the Weomen's God, and Mens delight, These take at Day, and those receive at Night: From Baskets then those sacred gifts they made They gladly took, and on the Altar laid, Mysterious gifts, to please the wondrous God, And Honor him the way that he had show'd: Young Pentheus lay in shady Hills conceal'd, And from the Rock the wondrous rites beheld, Autonoë spy'd him first, and cry'd aloud, See their the great Contemner of the God;

And out she ran, and as she went o'rethrew The sacred rites, which no profane must view: She first grew mad, then all the rest were fir'd, Their Fury rose as High as Rage inspir'd: Young Pentheus fled when he their madness view'd, They tuckt their Coats and eagerly pursu'd: He cry'd, what mean the Weomen? Oh forbear! Wretch you shall feel, they answerd, e're you hear: His Mother seiz'd, and snatcht his Head away, And roar'd, as a fierce Tigress o're her prey, Ino stampt on his Breast, his Arm she tore, And fierce Autonoe reekt with royal gore: Others seiz'd other Limbs, each snatcht a part, And every hand reacht forward to his heart: This done they shouted, and ran madly down, And bore the bloody Trophies to the Town: Deserv'd: Let none his Mighty Power offend, Lest greater mischiefs, and vast pains attend, Let me be good, Let me the just approve, For this is pleasing, and the care of Jove: For Pious Fathers on their Sons derive Sure blessings, which the Impious cannot give; They live themselves still vext with sharp remorse, And leave a long Hereditary Curse:

Hail Bacchus Hail, whom snatcht from Destiny Great Jove secur'd, and foster'd in his Thigh: Hail Semele, and all his Sisters hail, Whose fame resounds thro every Grecian vale: Their Act was just that did reward the Sin, They showd the Votary, and put off the Kin: Take heed Profane, by this Example showd, For what the Gods inspire must needs be good.

Idyllium XXVI.

An advice to a Friend to be constant in his Love.

To Charles Viner of Wadham Colledge, Esquire.

WIne, Friend, and Truth, the Proverb says, agree, And now I'me heated take this Truth from me; The Secrets that lay deep and hid before Now rais'd by Wine swim up, and bubble o're; Then take this riseing Truth I ca'nt controul, Thou dost not Love Me, Youth, with all thy Soul; I know it, for this half of Life I boast I have from you, the other half is lost: When e're you smile I rival Gods above, Grown perfect, and exalted by thy Love; But when you frown, and when dislike you show, I sink to Hell, more curst than all below; Yet how can this with common sense agree To torture one that loves, and dyes for Thee? But Youth, could my Advice thy thoughts engage, Mine who have learn'd Experience by my Age, The Counsell's good, and when a numerous store Of Blessings Crown Thee, Thou wilt praise me more:

On one Tree build one Nest, and build it strong, Where no fierce Snake can creep, and seize thy young: Now here you stand, and suddenly are gone, You leap from Bough to Bough, and fix on none. If any views thy Beauty, and Commends, You streight enroll him midst your antient friends, Whilst all your old Acquaintance laid aside, Dear youth this smells of Vanity and Pride: Love One, your Equal, love whilst Life remains, This pleases all, and Commendation gains, By this your Passion will but light appear Which conquers all, and all are forc't to bear; Love seizes all; and doth all Minds controul, It melts the stubborn temper of my Soul; But O I must embrace, Dear, grant one Kiss, And thus reward, and practise my Advice.

Idyllium XXVII.

The Bore that kill'd Adonis is brought before Venus.

To William Kenrick of Wadham Colledge, Esquire.

WHen Venus saw Adonis dead, His Cheeks all pale, and beauty fled, His Hair grown stiff with clotted gore, And now to be belov'd no more, She bad her Cupids trace the Grove, And bring the Bore that kill'd her Love: They, quick as the Command, ran o're The Wood, and found the hated Bore, They seiz'd, and bound, strong Cords they twin'd, Some drew before, some drove behind, One twirld his Tail to make him go, Another lasht him with his Bow: The fearful Beast went trembling on, As conscious of the deed he done, His hanging looks his guilt betray'd Of Venus Fury much affraid:

When come, Her rage these words exprest: Thou vilest Monster of a Beast, Were these the cruel Tusks did tear? Wast Thou the ruine of my Dear? The Bore, reply'd, By thee, thy Love, By All that's kind, and apt to move, By what I suffer, by these chains, And these that drive me to my pains, I ne're had a design to kill Thy Fair, it was against my Will: But when I saw his naked Thigh As white as polisht Ivory, How did my Flame and Fury rise! How was I fir'd at the surprize! At last unable to resist Ah me! too furiously I kisst, And this the Boys destruction brought, And Love betray'd me to a fault: These Tusks destroy, and punish these The curst disturbers of thy ease, For why should I have leave to prove These Tusks that have no use in Love: Or if the crime demands no less These Lips I offer to appease:

These words so moveingly exprest Calm'd all the Fury of her Breast, She soon forgave, releast her Foe, And bad her Cupids let him go, But he ne're sought Woods again, But staid attending on her train; And to the Funeral Pile he came, And burnt his Tusks in the devouring flame.

Idyllium XXVIII.

He presents a Distaff to Theeugnis his Friend Nicias his Wife.

To Mr. Charles Whiteing of Wadham Colledge.

DIstaff, thou greatest gift on Man bestow'd By fair Minerva as the chiefest good, Whom wise and thrifty Weomen still retain, And raise their Husband's fortune by their pain, Retire with me to Nileu's beauteous Town, Where stately shrines grace Venus and her Son, For thither, Distaff, I am now design'd, And beg of mighty Jove a prosperous wind, To be enjoy'd by, and enjoy my Friend: Nicias, in whom the sweet tongu'd Graces rest, Learning it self is seated in his Breast, There thou of polisht Ivory fram'd shalt prove, A grateful present to his dearest Love; From thee shall all her Husband's Vests be spun, From thee She'l often draw a flowry Gown; For Lambs do loose their Fleeces twice a year To fill her Baskets, and be wrought by her:

So painful is Theeugnis, what the wise And thrifty Matrons value, She will prize: Nor would I send thee to an idle place Thou product of our Country, and our grace; For thou wert made where Walls stout Archias fram'd, The Pride of Sicily, for valour fam'd: Now thou shalt visit him whose wondrous skill Can save the Men that Fate designs to kill, Whose Herbs can soon restore a life when lost, And by his Art bring back the flying Ghost: That fair Theeugnis may by all be known To have the neatest Distaff in the Town; And still of me her friend kind thoughts infuse, Of me the chiefest Darling of the Muse: There some shall see thee, and these words repeat, The present's small, but yet the kindness great, The Giver's Love doth little Gifts commend, And every thing is valued from a Friend.

Idyllium XXIX.

Hercules going to Augias meets a Herdsman, of whom he asks the usual questions which a Stranger makes, and re∣ceives satisfaction: and is afterward brought to the King and his Son Phyleus, who were then in the Fields; By those he is invited to the Town, and in the way tells Phyleus how he had kill'd the Nemean Lion.

To Mr. Thomas Piggot of Wadham Colledge.

Imperfect in the Greek.

AND then the Herdsman, from his labouring hand He threw his work, thus answer'd his demand: I'le gladly tell what e're thy mind desires, This Justice craves, and Mercury requires; For he of all the Gods resents it most, When we deny a Stranger what is just: Look, Stranger, all the numerous Herds around With which the Vales are fill'd, and Hills are crown'd, King Augias owns; o're thousand Plains they spread, In different Meads, and various Pastures fed, Some on the flowry Banks of Eli stray, And some where smooth Alpheus eats his way;

Some midst the Vines in fair Boupraisium go, Some here, the Vallies tremble when they Low: For each of these the King fair Stalls hath rear'd, Tho numerous, large, and equal to the Herd: And here fresh Grass still cloaths the fruitful Plain, The Blades, as soon as cropt, arise again, For Springs cut thro the Plain, and feed the Grass, All fit to fatten Oxen, and increase: Look, on thy right hand far beyond the Flood The Stall appears between the shady Wood, Next where wild Olives, and high Planes do grow; Apollo's shrine, to whom the Herdsmen bow, And own the greatest Deity below. Next are the Farmer's Stalls, whose Labors bring Whole Streams of gain, and much inrich the King, For thrice they Plow, thrice sow the teeming soil, Which still invites, and still rewards their toil: Many large Vineyards plant, his Vines they dress▪ And sweaty Autum treads the flowing Press: For all these Gardens, Feilds, and Plains around Till yonder watry Hills the compass bound, King Augias owns, and here all day we bear The Heat and Cold, and urge the weighty share:

But Sir, (for I no common Aaid may prove) What Buisness led you to this happy Grove, Would you the King, or any Servant See, I can direct you, you shall learn from Me: For sure you seem, if well I make your face, Great in your self, and noble in your race; How brave you look! and what a Port you bear! So look the Sons of Gods when they appear: This said he bow'd, and Jove's stout Son reply'd, Swain, Generous, free from Savageness or Pride, I seek the King whom all these Realms obey, Buisness with him first drew my Feet this way, If midst his Subjects now he keeps the Town, Divideing Justice from his equal Throne, Give me a Swain to guide, a Master Swain, Who when I ask can answer me again, For Man is made to be a help to Man: Thus spake Alcides, Thus the Swain reply'd, Sir, all the way some God your feet must guide, So luckily things happen, so conspire To please your Mind, and answer your desire: Last night King Augias and his valiant Son Young Phyleus left the hurry of the Town, They came to spend some days midst peaceful Swains, And view their wondrous riches on the Plains,

This Pains some Princes take, they leave their ease, For when they watch themselves their Stores encrease: When with Heaven's Providence they joyn their own, A double guard secures their safer Throne, But come, let's go, and both the Prince attend, In yonder Stall, He'l love so great a Friend: This said he hastned to conduct his guest, His wonder still at every step encreast; His Lions Skin, vast Club, his Mein and Face Still hightned, still he wonder'd what he was; Oft he would ask, but yet as oft represt The riseing Query in his troubled Breast, Lest it should seem too rude, and ill design'd, For, O, 'tis hard to know another's Mind! Whilst yet far off the faithful Mastiffs knew The noise and smell of both, and out they flew: From every part they at the Hero run With open mouths, resolv'd to tear him down: But round the Swain they wagg'd their tails, and play'd; And in hoarse murmurs savage joy betray'd: He stoopt to take up stones, they stopt their noise, He spoke, they fear'd the thunder of his voice: All silent fled, but yet the Swain was glad To see his Mastiffs care, and thus he said: What useful Creatures are these Dogs to Man!

How full of care! how useful to a Swain! Had they but reason to know whom to tear, And whom to love, what Creature could compare! But now they'r Bruitish, then he cry'd, begone; Each took his Stall▪ and lay in quiet down: Now down the West with a descending ray Bright Phoebus drove, and bore declineing day: Now shades drew on, and full of Milk and food; The Sheep came home, and lay and chewd the Cud: Next these the Cows and Oxen fill'd the Plain, As thick as Clouds when Jove descends in rain: When watry Southwinds bring their Treasures forth, Or when They'r hudled by the stormy North: No man can count them, for so fast they rise, And follow one another thro the Skies, Still new and new the driveing tempest brings, And bears vast burthens on his weary Wings: These Herds a Herdsman drove, the fields, and road Were 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the vallies sounded when they low'd: The Sta•••••• were crouded, and could scarce contain, And S••••••p lay round, and bleated o're the Plain: Th•• ••••ousand Slaves stood round of every kind, No••e wanted work, all had their Tasks assign'd: One shackled starting Cows, and whilst they stood He milk'd, and streight the largest Pail o'reflow'd:

One let the Calves to suck, they soon were fill'd With sweetest Milk, such stores the Cows did yield: Some bore the Pails, and some did run the Cheese Hot from the Cow, some rais'd the Wring to squeeze, And some the Bulls apart from Heifers drove, They turn'd and bellow'd, eager on their Love: The King himself went round to every Herd, To see what Calves his Servants Care had rear'd: And whilst thro his vast Stores he trac'd the Plain, His Son and great Alcides made his train; Here tho our Hero's Soul great Shows despis'd, Was constant, fixt, too brave to be surpriz'd, Yet now at last his wonder rose to view, Such numerous Herds, and scarce could think 'twas true, That One such stores should have, that could suffice Ten Kings, and fill capacious Avarice: But this was a peculiar favour shown, A Blessing sent by Phoebus on his Son, His Cattle still must thrive, his Herds be blest, And Heaven secur'd what e're the King possest: His Cows ne're cast their Calves, and no disease, The Herdsman's plague, was e're allow'd to seize: From year to year the numerous Herd encreast New Calves were rear'd, and still the last were best,

Three hundred Bulls, turn'd Horns grace every head, Their legs were white, with these two hundred red, All leapt the Cows, begot a numerous race, And soon supply'd frail Nature's chance-decays, Apart from these twelve mighty Bulls did run, As white as Snow, and sacred to the Sun; Each with his shape might tempt the Tyrian Queen, They fed, were pleas'd, and wanton'd o're the Green: And when fierce Lions from the Woods appear'd They turn'd to fight, and still secur'd the Herd, They bellow'd low'd, they tore the trembling ground, And with bent foreheads aim'd a double wound: Midst these one Bull did far e••cel the rest, Call'd Phaeton, a stout and mighty Beast This name the Herdsman gave deduc't from light, For his quick Courage, and his strength in fight; He all excell'd, was stately, valiant, fair, As much as Phaeton the meanest Star: The Lion's Skin, that o're the Hero spread As soon as first he saw, he bent his head, And ran to push, he quickly shun'd the wound, His left Horn grasp't, and pull'd him to the ground, Invain he strove, invain he spurn'd the Sand, With doubled strength the Hero fixt his hand,

Then urg'd his breast, and forc't the Bull to rear On high, and held him Beating in the Air: The King, his valiant Son, and all the Plain Admir'd his strength, and thought him more than Man: The Prince and Hero now dark shades grew on, The Meadows left, and hastned to the Town: They took a path which from the distant Stall Thro Vine-yards led, and thro a pleasing vale, Twas little beaten, thro a shady Grove A soft and cool retreat for happy Love, No heavy Clowns came there whose weighty tread Might spoyl the verdure of the grassy bed: And as they walkt with a Majestick look Young Phyleus turn'd his head, and thus he spoke: Sir, if I guess aright, your sounding Fame Hath reacht my Ears, tho 't has not told your name, For one an Argive, valiant, stout and young From Aelis came, and pleas'd the listning throng He said, whilst he was there, and vow'd 'twas true, A valiant Greek a furious Lion slew, Strong, cruel, bloody, that destroy'd the Swains, The fierce Nemean Terror of the Plains; But whether Argos his great Birth could boast Or Sparta gave, my Memory hath lost;

But yet he said, tho I forget the place, For that I mind, he was of Perseus race; You, Sir, I hope are he, the man that fought, This Skin proclaims as much, and clears my doubt: But pray inform me, 'twill afford delight And please me much if I conjecture right, Tell me if you are he, the brave, the bold, Of whom the Argive's wondrous tale was told; Tell how the Lion fell, what strokes he stood, And how he came to the Nemean Wood, For did you seek it, you would seek invain For such a Monster on the Grecian Plain, She breeds no such, the Bear, the Woolf, and Bore, Unlucky Beasts, she breeds, and breeds no more; Hence some admire, and some the tale accuse As if contrived to please, and to amuse: This said he bow'd, and stept aside to show The Path was large, and wide enough for two; He beg'd the Hero to advance more near, That they might speak with greater ease, and hear, He soon came forward, and whilst side by side They walkt, he to his question thus reply'd Brave Augias Son, what e're the Prince hath said Is right, and his conjecture duly weigh'd, Yet I'le inform you how the Monster fell,

And whence it came, for very few can tell; But most imagine 'twas design'dly sent To prove the base Pheroneans punishment, Neglect of Duty had provokt a God: The poor Piseans like a headlong flood He ravag'd o're and drown'd their Fields in Blood: But most the Bembinaeans felt his rage, And lingred out a miserable Age, This task Eurystheus, whom I must obey, Impos'd, and hop'd to see me prove the Lion's prey: I took my Bow, my Hollow Quiver bore Sharp Arrows arm'd with the Lernean gore, When e're I draw a shaft Deaths wait around To guide the Dart, and enter at the wound: My left hand graspt my Club, strong, knotty, rude, With all its Bark, unpolisht from the Wood; It grew on Helicon, I pluckt it thence With Roots and all, and weild for my Defence: Approaching to the Wood, I bent my Bow, My Arrow knockt, and wisht to meet my Foe, I lookt around, and try'd, prepar'd for fight, To spy the Beast, and take advantage of the sight, 'Twas midday now, and yet no Beast appear'd, No track was seen, nor any roaring heard, No Herdsman, Swain, that might his Den declare,

All lay at home chain'd up with slavish fear: But still I trac't the Groves, thro Woods I prest, Resolv'd at last to find and fight the Beast: For every Evening glutted with the Blood Of slaughter'd Beasts he took the shady Wood; His Maine was stiff with gore, his grisly Beard His long Tongue lickt with Blood and foam besmear'd; Behind a Thicket I impatient lay And wisht each Minute was the Close of day, That I might see him; Lo at last he came, In look as dreadful as he was in fame; I drew my Bow, and shot, the String did sound, And Death stood ready to attend the wound, But from his side the Shaft rebounding fell, And prov'd the hardned Beast was arm'd too well: The Lion roar'd, he rais'd his furious Head And lookt to see from whence the Arrow fled, His flameing Eyes shot Fire, unsheath'd his Paws, He gap't, and Teeth lookt dreadful in his Jaws: I knockt another Arrow, drew again, Inrag'd to see the former shot invain: The Breast it strook where Life maintains her Seat, And labouring Lungs still fan the vital Heat: But that invain did from his Breast rebound,

And rais'd his Fury only, not a wound: A third I drew, but e're I aim'd aright; The Beast perceiv'd me, and prepar'd for fight: His Tail twirl'd round, his Neck was swoln with Rage, And every Limb seem'd eager to engage, His Mane stood up, his fiery Eyes did glow, And Crooked Back was bent into a Bow: And as when Wheelers take a sturdy Oak, Or Elm, and Bath it in the glowing smoak, To make a Wheel, at first it bends, and stands And then at once leaps from their grasping Hands: So leapt the Beast at me, such Springs as these He made, grown eager and resolv'd to seize: But I receiv'd him, in my left I held My Darts, and a thick garment was my Shield, My Right did weild my Club, and aim'd a Blow, As He was leaping forward, at his Brow, A lucky blow, but on the hardned bones It broke, the Lion sigh'd in hollow groans; Some steps retir'd, as if all Sense was sled, And stood with shakeing Legs, and dizzy'd head: Mists seiz'd his Eyes, and an amazeing pain Ran thro the crazy Vessels of his Brain: This I observ'd, and now an easy prey

I threw my Quiver and my shafts away And seiz'd his Neck; and whilst his Sense was gone I grip'd him hard, and kept the Lion down; My G••••pes d••••bled, and ••ehind I prest, Lest 〈…〉〈…〉 ••aws should tear my adverse Breast, On's h••nde•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and squeez'd his Thighs With mine, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 spurn'd invain and strove to rise: At last o'recome when he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 strove invain He lay extended o•• the ••a••al Plain, I held him breathless, did his force controul, And gapeing Hell receiv'd his mighty Soul: Then next I sought how I might gain the Spoyls, And with his pretious Skin reward my toyls; The task was hard, for neither Wood, nor Stone, Nor Steel could pierce, and make the Skin my own: But then some God did happy thoughts infuse, The Paws he shew'd, and taught me those to use: I did, and flead him, and the Hide I bear To be my strong security in War: Thus fell the Beast by which such numbers fell, And fled amidst his slaughter'd Heaps to Hell.

Idyllium XXX.

The Fight between Amycus and Pollux: This Amycus being excellently well skill'd at Whirlebats, made a De∣cree that whatever Stranger came into his Country should fight with him; after he had slain a great many, Pollux at last overcomes him.

To Mr. Robert D' oyly of Wadham Colledge.

FAir Leda's Sons and mighty Jove's I sing Castor and Pollux Glories of the Ring, None toss their Whirlebats with so brave a force, None guide so well the Fury of their Horse, With trebled Songs I sing the glorious Two, The great supports and helps of Man below, When midst destructive Wars swift dangers press, Or stormy Stars send Tempests o're the Seas; They toss the Floods, and raise the swelling Tide At Poop or Prow, and dash on either side, Or pour into the Ship, the Planks and Masts Are torn, nor can the Sails endure the Blasts, But rent hang useless; Storms of Hail and Rain From Heaven descend, and beat the Spatious Main:

The Waters roar, the Troubled Ocean raves Whilst Hail and Stormy Winds do beat the Waves Yet then you draw the Ship from deepest Seas, And those that look'd for Death are cheer'd with ease; The Clouds all fly and Storms strickt silence keep, And a smooth Calmness spreads o're all the Deep: Bright Stars appear, and with a beauteous ray Presage good voyages, and shew the way: Great helps to Man, of Both my Muse must write Both skill'd in Horses, singing, and in fight, But Muse, whose Praises must I first reherse? Sing Both, first Pollux grace thy sounding Verse: When Argo's Sails had scap't the closeing Shores, And swept cold Pontus with her nimble Oars, She toucht Bebryca, forc't by prosperous fate, The Sons of Gods and Heroes were her freight: And there they landed; when they came to land Some rais'd Grass-beds, and by their Lords command Some drest their Meat upon the naked Sand: Castor and Pollux weary of the Floods Left all their Mates, and trac'd the shady Woods: And as they gaz'd, beneath a gloomy Cave They saw a Spring roul on a purling wave, Like Silver pure, and round on every part

Contriv'd by prudent Nature's happy art Small Fountains flow'd, and bubled o're the Grass, As clear as Chrystal, and as smooth as Glass: Tall Firs and Planes, and Cypress shade the Streams, Defending from the Fury of the Beams, The Banks were crown'd with Flowers, which Nature brings For Bees, and to embalm the dying Springs: By this a Man in shineing Armour sate, Frightful his look, and terrible as Fate: His Face was full of Knubs, how large his Chest? His Shoulders broad and equal to his Breast: His Flesh like Brass, more hard the more he fought, Like a Colossus on an Anvil wrought: And as tall Rocks that have long time withstood The numerous whirlings of a rapid Flood, At last grow round, but yet unconquer'd stand, So lookt the swelling Muscles on his hand; And o're his Shoulders hung a Lion's Skin Claspt by the golden Paws beneath his Chin; With some surprize and wonder in his look Brave Pollux view'd him, and at last he spoke:

P.

Health Sir, what Nations plough this happy shore?

A.

How health, when I see men ne're seen before?

P.

Fear not, we're honest, and no danger's near;

A.

I do not, nor need you bid me not fear:

P.

Your Answer's rude, your manners are untame,

A.

What's that? Sir, as you see me, such I am: But what have you to do to tread these shores, Did e're I come to trouble you on yours?

P.

Sir if you did you should be entertain'd, Be grac't with gifts, and treated as a friend:

A.

Talk not of Presents thus, thy gifts I scorn, Nor have I any ready to return:

P.

May I not tast the Streams that idly flow?

A.

If Thirst hath scorcht thy Bowels thou shalt know:

P.

Here's Gold, I'le give you any price to gain:

A.

Then you must fight a single Man to Man: Set foot to foot, and steddy Eyes advance, And use your greatest skill, nor trust to Chance:

P.

Whom must I fight with? must I beat the Air?

A.

Thy match is ready, and thy equal near:

P.

And what's the prize? what must the Conqueror have?

A.

The conquer'd, Sir, shall be the Conquerors Slave:

P.

This is Cock's sport, not fit for generous Men, Where the dull Dastard leaves the Cackling Hen:

A.

Or Cock's or Lion's, I'me resolv'd on this: I than my self can stake no worthier prize: This said, Amycus, did his Trumpet sound,

The Vallies rung, and eccho'd all around, Thro every distant Field the noise was heard, And Crouds of stout Bebrycians soon appear'd: Whilst from the Ship the thronging Heroes press, To view the Fight and judge of the Success, Now were their Whirlbats bound, rough Thongs em∣brac't Their knotty Arms, and ty'd their Weapons fast: Out they advanc't, and each with Fury shook, They breath'd Defiance, Terror in their look: Here was a noble strife of Art begun Who on his Back should gain the setting Sun, And Pollux gain'd it, the descending Rays Shone full in mighty Amycus's Face: Inrag'd at this his headlong Fury ro••e, And he rusht on, and doubled all his blows, But Pollux soust his Cheek, it flow'd with gore, He saw his Blood, and then he rag'd the more: The Fight grew hotter, like a mighty Oak He backward bent to take the greater stroke, Shouts the Bebrycians gave, and rais'd his Heat, The Heroes cheer'd stout Pollux with as great; For they all fear'd lest forc't to narrow streights Pollux should fall beneath the threatned weights: But he with dextrous skill and watchful Art

Still shunn'd the strokes, secure on every part, He ply'd him hard, and did his force controul, Tho great his Courage, furious was his Soul: Doz'd with the strokes the nodding Hero stood, And from his Mouth flow'd Streams of clotted Blood▪ The Grecians shouted when they view'd the blows, And saw his broken Cheeks, and batter'd Nose, His Eyes contracted in his swelling Face, And by their shoutings doubled the disgrace: The Prince still eager prest, he ply'd him hard, And with false strokes soon beat him from his guard, And, when he saw him staggering, aim'd a blow, The stroke was sure, and smote his haughty Brow, The Ball return'd as from a hardned Stone, But tore the Flesh, and left the naked Bone: O're come by this and yielding to the wound The Hero fell, and bit the bloody ground; But rose, and then a fiercer Fight began, Inraged by his Disgrace, and by his pain: Both tost their Whirlbats, and vast wounds bestow'd, With Blood and Sweat their labouring Bodies flow'd: Stout Amycus still aim'd at Hands and Breast, And with redoubled force he bravely prest, But wiser Pollux every fatal blow

Aim'd at his Head, and craz'd his nodding Brow: His limbs grew less, his color turn'd to pale, And from a mighty Giant shrunk to small, But Pollux seem'd to grow, he lookt more great, His color better, and increast by Heat; But Muse, how Pollux did the Hero quell What stroke he gave, explain, for you can tell, I sing as you direct, your voice obey, And gladly follow, when you lead the way: Designing now to push the Combat on He seiz'd on Pollux left hand with his own, Bending to shun the stroke, and closeing nigh Reacht out his right, and graspt his Brawny Thigh: But he his body bow'd, and broke the Lock, And at his Temple aim'd a fatal stroke, Just where the vital powers their Seats maintain, And work new Spirits to support the Brain, There fell the Blow; wide gap'd the horrid wound To let in Fate, and the vast Hero groan'd: The blood sprang out, his mouth his left-hand smote And shatter'd Teeth fell down his batter'd throat: His Cheeks were beaten close, his Nose grew flat, And trebled Blows still urg'd his hasty Fate: The Hero fell extended o're the Plain,

Gave o're the Fight, nor could he rise again, His hands stretcht out, as, whilst he breath'd his last, He meant to keep off Fate that came too fast, Here no proud word, and no disdainful Eye On thy lost Foe did stain thy Victory; But he by his great Father Neptune swore, That he would never injure Strangers more: Thus have I Pollux sung, and paid my due, My next, great Castor, must be grac't by you.

Castor and Pollux had taken away Phaebe and Talaris the Daughters of Lucippus, who were betroth'd to Lynceus and Idas the Sons of Aphareus: A War en∣sueing Castor kills Lynceus, and Idas is slain by Thunder.

NOW had the Valiant Sons of mighty Jove, Grown fierce and too injurious by their Love Lucippus Daughters seiz'd, and forc't away Their beauteous prize, and melancholly prey: Aphareus Sons pursu'd, resolv'd to try Their Force, and gain their promis'd Brides, or dye; Both sides now meet at brave Aphareus Tomb, Which Fate design'd the Lovers Field of doom; All from their Chariots leap, for fight prepare, Well arm'd, and well appointed for the War: When Lynceus thus beneath his Helmet spoke, The Vallies Echo'd, and the Mountains shook: What means this rage, this impious violence,

To ravish first, then fight in its defence? What mean the Shields and Spears, these Iron bands, And naked Weapons in your threatning Hands? Lucippus Daughters are by right our due, Betroth'd to us before e're known to you: His Oaths confirm'd it, and 'twas base by stealth To covet others right, and others wealth; By gifts to bribe him, and his mind pervert, And win by Art, unable by desert: And often I, your base designs to check, Have said, tho I can better fight than speak; Unprincely 'tis to court another's Spouse, And tempt weak Innocence to break her Vows: Sparta and Elis breed a numerous race, All perfect Beauties both in mind and face: There you may Court, and whom you please may have, What Parents will refuse the rich and brave? Permit our Match, let us our right pursue, And we will joyn to find fit Brides for you: These were my words, but these the wanton Winds Bore to the floods, they never reacht your Minds, For both inexorabl•• bent appeard, You heard, but ne're regarded what you heard: Yet now be just, our promis'd Brides restore, For we are Kin, and then I ask no more: But if you needs must fight, if War desire, If nought but Blood can quench your lustful fire; Let Pollux and let Idas Arms forbear, And never try the hated chance of War; Let▪ Castor, you and I the fight maintain, And see whose Courage shows the bravest Man: For this will give our Friends sufficient proof, And if one fal••s there will be loss enough;

Let some survive to chear our drooping friends, And wed the Maids, and make them just amends: For this is friendly to restrain our heat, And make the loss but small, when the Contention's great▪ Thus Lynceus spoke, to this both sides agree, And Jove confirm'd it by his ••ixt decree; Pollux and Idas laid there Armour by, Attending on their Brother's Victory: Lynceus did first within the lists appear Beneath his Shield he shook his threatning Spear, Then Castor came, strong Shields did guard their Breasts, And on their Helmets nodded dreadful Crests; First with their Spears began the noble strife, Each sought to find an open pass to Life; But all invain, the Shields the strokes endur'd, Their Spears were blunted, and the Men secur'd; Their Swords they drew, the Blades like Lightning shone Before the Thunderbolt falls swiftly down; Now rose their Fury, Castor bravely prest, He pierc't his Shield and chopt the waveing Crest; And many thrusts the quick-ey'd Lynceus made The Shield, and Crest once felt his furious Blade: But Castor stepping backward reacht a blow, And strook his Wrist, and tam'd his haughty foe, Disabled thus, and grown unfit for fight He dropt his weapon, and prepar'd for flight To his great Father's Tomb, where Idas sate, A sad Spectator of his Brothe••'s Fate: But Castor soon pursu'd, close thrusts he made, And thro his Belly forc't his thundering Blade; Out rusht his Bowels thro the gapeing wound, And he fell forward on the shakeing ground, Cold Death came on and did his heart surprize,

And Sleep Eternal sate upon his Eyes. Nor did his Mother valiant Idas lead With pious wishes to his Marriage bed, For to revenge falln Lynceus hasty doom He tore a Pillar from the sacred Tomb, To dart at Castor, dreadfully he stood, The fierce Revenger of his Brother's blood; Jove interpos'd, and by his strickt command Swift Lightning strook the Marble from his hand, He strove to reach it, but his Soul was fir'd, He fell, and in no Common Destiny expir'd: Thus must the Brothers still victorious prove, So Great in Courage, and ally'd to Jove. Hail Leda's Sons, still vigorous strength infuse, And still preserve the Honor of my Muse: You, Helen, and the Valiant Brave that strove At Troy for Injur'd Menelaus Love, Poets have serv'd, for with exalted rage They tell your fame, and spread thro future Age; Homer hath rais'd it with a lofty thought, He writes with the same Spirit that you fought; He sings the Grecian fleet, grave Nestor's care, And brave Achilles, fortress of the War: I bring the Tribute of a meaner Muse, Those humble strains her spareing Heats infuse; Yet this is all, the best that I can do, The utmost that my Talent will allow: And to the Gods, let Riches vainly strive, Songs are the greatest present Men can give.

FINIS.

Notes

• † 1.1

  The name of a Sheapherd.
• † 1.2

  Some take 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, as relating to the Country, and would not have Calydon in the next line to be a proper Name.
• * 1.3

  Heinsius reads 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, right no doubt, but it matters little.
• † 1.4

  Some read, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 some 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• † 1.5

  I follow Heinsius his Comment, which seems to be the best, and most agreeable to the Poets design.
• † 1.6

  This reading seems best, tho against the opinion of several of the Criticks.
• * 1.7

  The name of the Goat.
• * 1.8

  A Bird sacred to Venus much used in Love Charms
• * 1.9

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
• * 1.10

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 not 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
• * 1.11

  The story ••f Theseus and Ariadne is known.
• * 1.12

  This was the Custom to wait on their beloved with these Love Toys, as Apples, and Garlands to perform their Cere∣mony called 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, His was to be of Poplar as befiting •• Wrestler, being a Tree sacred to Hercules.
• * 1.13

  For diet and exercise before he Wrestled.
• * 1.14

  I follow Heinsius.
• * 1.15

  Alludcing to the common saying.