  My sportive Muse first sung Sicilian strains, Nor blush'd to dwell in woods and lowly plains. To sing of kings and wars when I aspire, Apollo checks my vainly-rising fire. "To swains the flock and sylvan pipe belong, Then choose some humbler theme, nor dare heroic song." The voice divine, O Varus I obey. And to my reed shall chant a rural lay; Since others long thy praises to rehearse, And sing thy battles in immortal verse. Yet if these songs, which Phoebus bids me write, Hereafter to the swains shall yield delight, And all the vocal grove with Varus ring. The song inscrib'd to Varus' sacred name To Phoebus' favour has the justest claim. Come then, my Muse, a sylvan song repeat. 'Twas in his shady arbour's cool retreat Two youthful swains the god Silenus found, In drunkenness and sleep his senses bound, His turgid veins the late debauch betray; His garland on the ground neglected lay, Fallen from his head; and by the well-worn ear His cup of ample size depended near. Sudden the swains the sleeping god surprise, And with his garland bind him as he lies, (No better chain at hand) incens'd so long To be defrauded of their promis'd song. To aid their project, and remove their fears, Ægle, a beauteous fountain-nymph, appears; Who, while he hardly opes his heavy eyes, His stupid brow with bloody berries dyes. Then smiling at the fraud Silenus said, "And dare you thus a sleeping god invade? To see me was enough; but haste, unloose My bonds; the song no longer I refuse; Unloose me, youths; my song shall pay your pains; For this fair nymph another boon remains." He sung; responsive to the heavenly sound The stubborn oaks and forests dance around. Tripping the Satyrs and the Fauns advance, Wild beasts forget their rage, and join the general dance. When Phoebus raises his celestial voice; Nor Thracia's echoing mountains so admire, When Orpheus strikes the loud-lamenting lyre. For first he sung of Nature's wondrous birth; How seeds of water, air, and flame, and earth, Down the vast void with casual impulse hurl'd, Clung into shapes, and form'd this fabric of the world. Then hardens by degrees the tender soil, And from the mighty mound the seas recoil. O'er the wide world new various forms arise; The infant Sun along the brighten'd skies Begins his course, while Earth with glad amaze The blazing wonder from below surveys. The clouds sublime their genial moisture shed, And the green grove lifts high its leafy head. The savage beasts o'er desert mountains roam, Yet few their numbers, and unknown their home. He next the blest Saturnian ages sung; How a new race of men from Pyrrha sprung; Prometheus' daring theft, and dreadful doom, Whose growing heart devouring birds consume. Then names the spring, renown'd for Hylas' fate, By the sad mariners bewail'd too late; They call on Hylas with repeated cries, And Hylas, Hylas, all the lonesome shore replies, Next he bewails PasiphÆ (hapless dame!) Who for a bullock felt a brutal flame. How happy thou, if herds had never been! The maids, whom Juno, to avenge her wrong, Like heifers doom'd to low the vales along, Ne'er felt the rage of thy detested fire, Ne'er were polluted with thy foul desire; Though oft for horns they felt their polish'd brow, And their soft necks oft fear'd the galling plough. Ah wretched queen! thou roam'st the mountain-waste, While, his white limbs on lilies laid to rest, The half-digested herb again he chews, Or some fair female of the herd pursues. "Beset, ye Cretan nymphs, beset the grove, And trace the wandering footsteps of my love. Yet let my longing eyes my love behold, Before some favourite beauty of the fold Entice him with Gortynian Where smile the vales in richer pasture gay." He sung how golden fruit's resistless grace Decoy'd the wary virgin from the race. Then wraps in bark the mourning sisters round, And rears the lofty alders from the ground. A sister of the nine the hero led To the Aonian hill; the choir in haste Left their bright thrones, and hail'd the welcome guest. Linus arose, for sacred song renown'd, Whose brow a wreath of flowers and parsley bound; And "Take," he said, "this pipe, which heretofore The far-fam'd shepherd of AscrÆa Then heard the mountain-oaks its magic sound, Leap'd from their hills, and thronging danced around. On this thou shalt renew the tuneful lay, And grateful songs to thy Apollo pay, Whose fam'd GrynÆan< |
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