Sidor som bilder
PDF
ePub

Thy statue then of Parian stone shall stand; 45 Thy legs in buskins with a purple band.

THYRSIS.

This bowl of milk, these cakes (our country

fare),

For thee, Priapus, yearly we prepare,

Because a little garden is thy care;

But, if the falling lambs increase my fold,
Thy marble statue shall be turned to gold.

CORYDON.

Fair Galatea, with thy silver feet,

O, whiter than the swan, and more than Hybla sweet!

Tall as a poplar, taper as the bole!

50

Come, charm thy shepherd, and restore my soul ! 55 Come, when my lated sheep at night return,

And crown the silent hours, and stop the rosy

morn!

THYRSIS.

May I become as abject in thy sight,

As sea-weed on the shore, and black as night;
Rough as a bur; deformed like him who chaws 60
Sardinian herbage to contract his jaws;

Such and so monstrous let thy swain appear,
If one day's absence looks not like a year.

Hence from the field, for shame! the flock deserves

No better feeding while the shepherd starves. 65

CORYDON.

Ye mossy springs, inviting easy sleep,

Ye trees, whose leafy shades those mossy foun

tains keep,

Defend my flock! The summer heats are near, And blossoms on the swelling vines appear.

THYRSIS.

With heapy fires our cheerful hearth is crowned; 70 And firs for torches in the woods abound:

We fear not more the winds, and wintry cold, Than streams the banks, or wolves the bleating fold.

CORYDON.

Our woods, with juniper and chestnuts crowned, With falling fruits and berries paint the ground ; 75 And lavish Nature laughs, and strews her stores

around :

But, if Alexis from our mountains fly,

Even running rivers leave their channels dry.

THYRSIS.

Parched are the plains, and frying is the field,
Nor withering vines their juicy vintage yield:
But, if returning Phyllis bless the plain,
The grass revives, the woods are green again,
And Jove descends in showers of kindly rain.

CORYDON.

The poplar is by great Alcides worn;
The brows of Phoebus his own bays adorn;
The branching vine the jolly Bacchus loves;
The Cyprian queen delights in myrtle groves;
With hazel Phyllis crowns her flowing hair;
And, while she loves that common wreath to
wear,

Nor bays, nor myrtle boughs, with hazel shall

80

85

90

compare.

THYRSIS.

The towering ash is fairest in the woods;
In gardens pines, and poplars by the floods:

But, if my Lycidas will ease my pains,
And often visit our forsaken plains,

To him the towering ash shall yield in woods,
In gardens pines, and poplars by the floods.

MELIBUS.

I've heard; and, Thyrsis, you contend in vain,
For Corydon, young Corydon, shall reign
The Prince of Poets on the Mantuan plain.*

* [This speech appears later thus :—

"These rhymes I did to memory commend,
When vanquished Thyrsis did in vain contend;
Since when, 'tis Corydon among the swains:
Young Corydon without a rival reigns."

-ED.]

95

PASTORAL VIII.*

OR,

PHARMACEUTRIA.

ARGUMENT.

This Pastoral contains the Songs of Damon and Alphesibæus. The first of them bewails the loss of his mistress, and repines at the success of his rival Mopsus. The other repeats the charms of some enchantress, who endeavoured, by her spells and magic, to make Daphnis in love with her.

THE mournful muse of two despairing swains,
The love rejected, and the lovers' pains;
To which the savage lynxes listening stood,
The rivers stood on heaps, and stopped the
running flood;

*This Eighth Pastoral is copied by our author from two Bucolics of Theocritus. Spenser has followed both Virgil and Theocritus in the charms which he employs for curing Britomartis of her love. But he had also our poet's Ceiris in his eye; for there not only the enchantments are to be found, but also the very name of Britomartis.-D.

The hungry herd their * needful food refuseOf two despairing swains, I sing the mournful

muse.

Great Pollio! thou, for whom thy Rome prepares

The ready triumph of thy finished wars,
Whether Timavus or the Illyrian coast,
Whatever land or sea thy presence boast;
Is there an hour in fate reserved for me,
To sing thy deeds in numbers worthy thee?
In numbers like to thine, could I rehearse
Thy lofty tragic scenes, thy laboured verse,
The world another Sophocles in thee,
Another Homer should behold in me.
Amidst thy laurels let this ivy twine:

Thine was my earliest muse; my latest shall be thine.

Scarce from our upper world the shades withdrew,+

Scarce were the flocks refreshed with morning

dew,

When Damon, stretched beneath an olive shade, And, wildly staring upwards, thus inveighed Against the conscious gods, and cursed the cruel maid:

"Star of the morning, why dost thou delay?
Come, Lucifer, drive on the lagging day,
While I my Nisa's perjured faith deplore,-
Witness, ye powers, by whom she falsely swore!
The gods, alas! are witnesses in vain ;

Yet shall my dying breath to heaven complain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian

strain.

* [Later, "the."-ED.]

† [Later, "Scarce from the world the shades of night withdrew."-ED.]

5

10

15

20

25

30

VOL. XIII.

2 B

« FöregåendeFortsätt »