While o'er the fields the flying boars ye trace,
I hold the toils, nor share the dangerous chace.

DAMOETAS.

Send home my Phyllis, dear Iolas haste,
My birth-day's come, I'll keep the genial feast;
And when a heifer we to Ceres slay,

Come thou, Oh swain! the welcome homage pay.

MENALCAS.

Young Phyllis more than other nymphs I prize; My parting steps she viewed with weeping eyes; Then from her lips these moving accents fell, Farewel, Oh shepherd! lovely youth farewel.

DAMOETAS.

The wolf is dreadful to the bleating fold;
To ripen'd fields, the rains, and freezing cold;
Loud stormy winds to ev'ry lofty tree,
And Amaryllis' scornful rage to me.

MENALCAS.

Sweet to the new-sown seeds are gentle show'rs;
To kids new wean'd the arbutes' springing flow'rs;
Sweet to the pregnant ewes the willow grove;
To me alone the fair Amyntas' love.

DAMOETAS.

My songs, though rustic, Pollis deigns to hear;
Ye Nine, a heifer for your patron rear.

MENALCAS.

My Pollis writes new songs; a bull prepare,
That spurns the sands, and butts the empty air.

DAMOETAS.

Who loves thee, Pollis, may he grow in fame,
And fates like thine attend his noble aim;
For him let honey flow, and pastures bloom,
And hedges breathe the spice's rich perfume.

MENALCAS.

Who hates not Bavius, nor contemns his praise,
Be he, Oh! Mavius, doom'd to love thy lays;
And may the wretch with foxes plough the soil,
And milk he goats with mad and foolish toil.

DAMOETAS.

Ye boys, sweet flow'rs and low grown fruits forsake; Lo! the deep grass conceals a deadly snake.

MENALCAS.

Trust not the bank too far, ye bleating race;
The ram, all wet, yet dries his snowy fleece.

DAMOETAS.

Oh Tit'rus! from the flood these kids convey;
I'll wash them in the stream some fitter day.

MENALCAS.

Boys fold your flocks, if heat the milk should dry, How oft in vain the empty teats we'll ply!

DAMOETAS.

How lank's my bull, tho' graz'd in fertile fields!
To love's dire pains both herd and herdsman yields.

MENALCAS.

No ills like these my eager flocks ensnare,
Some eyes bewitch the tender fleecy care.

DAMOETAS.

Say in what fields, my sweetly warbling swain,
The circling skies three ells in space contain?
And for your skill, my Phoebus, you shall reign.

MENALCAS.

Say in what fields the flow'rs fresh blooming grow,
Which fair inscrib'd the names of monarchs show;
And for your art, dear Phyllis I'll bestow.

PALAEMON.

What song excels, is past my power to name;
Both you and he alike the prize may claim;
And ev'ry swain, who skill'd like you, can sing,
What joys and pains from love's dire passion spring;
Now stop the floods, dear boys, no more proceed,
Enough the streams have drench'd the thirsty mead.

}

ECLOGUE THE FIFTH.

ARGUMENT.

The subject of this beautiful eclogue is the death and deification of Julius Cæsar. The poet seems to be much elevated by the importance of the subject. The composition is laboured and elegant; and the scene beautiful, and adapted to the solemnity of the occasion, as the shepherds sit and sing under a canopy of wild vines in the solemn gloom of a grotto, and surrounded with a grove of hazles and elms. The season, summer, but the time of the day does not appear to be specified.

DAPHNIS, MENALCAS, MOPSUS.

MENALCAS.

SINCE thus we meet, dear youth, both skilful swains,
Thou on soft reeds, and I in vocal strains,

Why rest we not in this sweet sylvan scene,
Where elms, with hazles mix'd, o'ershade the green?

MOPSUS.

To you, mine elder, I obedience yield,

Whether we rest amidst the flow'ry field,

O'erhung with branches of wide spreading trees,
That wave their shades to ev'ry gentle breeze;
Or will you rather yon cool grotto chuse,
Where the wild vines their clust'ring grapes diffuse?

MENALCAS.

Of all the swains, whom on these hills we view,
Amyntas only may compare with you.

MOPSUS.

What, if this youth, inflam'd with rural praise,
Should strive to vie with Phebus' heavenly lays?

MENALCAS.

Begin ye first; if Phillis' am'rous fires,
Or Alcon's praise your tuneful muse inspires,
Or Codru's ancient quarrel swells your song;
Begin, while Tit'rus feeds the kiddling throng.

MOPSUS.

Rather I'll try these strains of newer date,
Which on green beachen bark I carv'd of late :

I carv'd and sung between; attend with care,
Then bid Amyntas with my skill compare !

MENALCAS.

As fewer charms the shrub than olive shows,
As cowslips yield to the sweet crimson rose;
So much, Oh swain! if right I judge your lays,
To you Amyntas yields the heavenly bays.

MOPSUS.

Dear youth no more, the solemn grot appears;
Lo! the sad nymphs with shouts and flowing tears,
Mourn'd fair Daphnis's death, through shady woods-
Bear witness hazles and ye silver floods!

When his sad fate the mournful mother knew,
Around his corse her eager arms she threw ;
Bedew'd with tears his lifeless limbs all o'er;
And curs'd the stars, and every heav'nly pow'r.
To cooling floods then swains no oxen drove,
Nor horses sought the streams or grassy grove;
Thy death, Oh! youth, e'en Lybian lions mourn'd,
Wild hills and shades the plaintive notes return'd.
Armenian tygers Daphnis taught to lead,
And to the harness joined the savage breed;
At feasts of Bacchus taught the frantic air,
And with soft leaves adorn'd the slender spear.
As vines the trees with glowing splendor grace,
As
grapes
the vines, as bulls the lowing race,
As golden harvests deck the fertile plain,

So our fair youth adorn'd the shepherd train.
When fate, Oh Daphnis, snatch'd thee from our view,

Pales and Phoebus from our plains withdrew.

When oft the fields we sow'd with choicest grain,

Wild oats and darnel spread their wretched reign;