The feeble stems, to stormy blasts a prey,

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Their sickly beauties droop, and pine away:
The winds forbid the flowers to flourish long,
Which owe to winds their names in Grecian song.

BOOK XI.

[TRANSLATED BY CROXALL.]

DEATH OF ORPHEUS.

THE Thracian women, offended at the coldness of Orpheus, tear him to pieces, and throw his head into the Hebrus, whose streams convey it to the coast of the.Egean sea, where a serpent, while sucking his blood, is changed into a stone.

HERE, while the Thracian bard's enchanting strain Soothes beasts, and woods, and all the listening plain,

The female Bacchanals, devoutly mad,

In shaggy skins, like savage creatures, clad,
Warbling in air, perceived his lovely lay,
And from a rising ground beheld him play;
When one, the wildest, with dishevell'd hair,
That loosely stream'd and ruffled in the air,
Soon as her frantic eye the lyrist spied,

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See, see, the hater of our sex," she cried;
Then at his face her missive javelin sent,

Which wizz'd along, and brush'd him as it went;
But the soft wreaths of ivy twisted round
Prevent a deep impression of the wound.
Another, for a weapon, hurls a stone,

Which, by the sound subdued as soon as thrown,
Falls at his feet, and, with a seeming sense,
Implores his pardon for its late offence.

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But now their frantic rage unbounded grows, Turns all to madness, and no measure knows : Yet this the charms of music might subdue; But that, with all its charms, is conquer'd too: In louder strains their hideous yellings rise, And squeaking hornpipes echo through the skies, Which, in hoarse concert with the drum, confound The moving lyre, and every gentle sound: Then 'twas the deafen'd stones flew on with speed, And saw, unsoothed, their tuneful poet bleed. The birds, the beasts, and all the savage crew Which the sweet lyrist to attention drew, Now by the female mob's more furious rage Are driven, and forced to quit the shady stage. Next their fierce hands the bard himself assail, Nor can his song against their wrath prevail : They flock like birds, when, in a clustering flight, By day they chase the boding fowl of night: So crowded amphitheatres survey

The stag, to greedy dogs a future prey.

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Their steely javelins, which soft curls entwine

Of budding tendrils from the leafy vine,

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For sacred rites of mild religion made,

Are flung promiscuous at the poet's head.

Those, clods of earth or flints discharge; and these

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Hurl prickly branches, sliver'd from the trees
And lest their passion should be unsupplied,
The rabble crew, by chance, at distance spied
Where oxen, straining at the heavy yoke,
The fallow'd field with slow advances broke;
Nigh which the brawny peasants dug the soil,
Procuring food with long laborious toil:
These, when they saw the ranting throng draw near
Quitted their tools, and fled, possess'd with fear.
Long spades, and rakes of mighty size, were found,
Carelessly left upon the broken ground:
With these the furious lunatics engage-
And first the labouring oxen feel their rage;

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Then to the poet they return with speed,
Whose fate was, past prevention, now decreed:
In vain he lifts his suppliant hands, in vain
He tries, before, his never-failing strain :
And from those sacred lips, whose thrilling sound
Fierce tigers and insensate rocks could wound.
Ah, gods! how moving was the mournful sight!
To see the fleeting soul now take its flight.
Thee the soft warblers of the feather'd kind
Bewail'd; for thee thy savage audience pined;
Those rocks and woods that oft thy strain had led,
Mourn for their charmer, and lament him dead;
And drooping trees their leafy glories shed:
Naiads and Dryads, with dishevell'd hair,
Promiscuous weep, and scarfs of sable wear;
Nor could the river gods conceal their moan,
But with new floods of tears augment their own.
His mangled limbs lay scatter'd all around;
His head and harp a better fortune found-
In Hebrus' streams they gently roll'd along,
And soothed the waters with a mournful song:
Soft deadly notes the lifeless tongue inspire;
A doleful tune sounds from the floating lyre:
The hollow banks in solemn concert mourn,
And the sad strain in echoing groans return:
Now with the current to the sea they glide,
Borne by the billows of the briny tide,

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And driven where waves round rocky Lesbos roar,
They strand, and lodge upon Methymna's shore. 85
But here, when landed on the foreign soil,

A venom'd snake, the product of the isle,
Attempts the head, and sacred locks, imbrued
With clotted gore and still fresh-dropping blood.
Phoebus at last his kind protection gives,
And from the fact the greedy monster drives;
Whose marbled jaws his impious crime atone-
Still grinning ghastly, though transform'd to stone
His ghost flies downward to the Stygian shore,
And knows the places it had seen before:

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Among the shadows of the pious train
He finds Eurydice, and loves again;

With pleasure views the beauteous phantom's

charms,

And clasps her in his unsubstantial arms :
There side by side they unmolested walk,
Or pass their blissful hours in pleasing talk;
Aft or before the bard securely goes,
And without danger can review his spouse.

THRACIAN WOMEN TRANSFORMED TO

TREES.

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BACCHUS punishes the cruelty of the Thracian women by transforming them into trees.

BACCHUS, resolving to revenge the wrong, Of Orpheus murder'd, on the madding throng, Decreed that each accomplice dame should stand, Fix'd by the roots, along the conscious land. Their wicked feet, that late so nimbly ran To wreak their malice on the guiltless man, Sudden with twisted ligatures were bound, Like trees, deep planted in the turfy ground: And as the fowler, with his subtle gins, His feather'd captives by the feet entwines, That fluttering pant, and struggle to get loose, Yet only closer draw the fatal noose;

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So these were caught; and, as they strove in vain To quit the place, they but increased their pain. They flounce and toil, yet find themselves con

troll'd;

The root, though pliant, toughly keeps its hold. In vain their toes and feet they look to find, For even their shapely legs are clothed with rind. One smites her thighs with a lamenting stroke, And finds the flesh transform'd to solid oak; . Another, with surprise and grief distress'd, Lays on above, but beats a wooden breast.

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A rugged bark their softer neck invades ;

Their branching arms shoot up delightful shades:
At once they seem and are a real grove,

With mossy trunks below, and verdant leaves above.

FABLE OF MIDAS.

THE hospitality of Midas towards Silenus, the tutor of Bacchus, is rewarded by the grateful deity with a permission to choose whatever recompense he pleases-Midas imprudently demands that whatever he touches may be turned into goldHis prayers are granted; and he is in danger of perishing by hunger, when the indulgent god supplies a remedy-Some time after this adventure Midas has the folly to maintain the superiority of Pan to Apollo in musical skill; for which rash opinion his ears are changed into those of an ass, to denote his ignorance and stupidity.

NOR this sufficed; the god's disgust remains, 130 And he resolves to quit their hated plains: The vineyards of Tymole engross his care, And with a better choir he fixes there;

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Where the smooth streams of clear Pactolus roll'd,
Then undistinguish'd for its sands of gold.
The satyrs with the nymphs, his usual throng,
Come to salute their god, and jovial dance along :
Silenus only miss'd; for while he reel'd,
Feeble with age and wine, about the field,
The hoary drunkard had forgot his way,
And to the Phrygian clowns became a prey;
Who to King Midas drag the captive god,
While on his totty pate the wreaths of ivy nod.
Midas from Orpheus had been taught his lore,
And knew the rites of Bacchus long before:
He, when he saw his venerable guest,
In honour of the god ordain'd a feast.

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Ten days in course, with each continued night,
Were spent in genial mirth and brisk delight;
Then on the eleventh, when, with brighter ray, 150
Phosphor had chased the fading stars away,