wholly yours from the first moment when I had the happinefs and honour of being known to you. Be pleased therefore to accept the Rudiments of Virgil's Poetry : coarfely tranflated, I confess, but which yet retains fome beauties of the author which neither the barbarity of our language, nor my unskilfulness, could fo much fully, but that they sometimes appear in the dim mirror which I hold before you. The fubject is not unfuitable to your youth, which allows you yet to love, and is proper to your present scene of life. Rural recreations abroad, and books at home,are the innocent pleasures of a man who is early wife; and gives fortune no more hold of him, than of neceffity he must. It is good, on fome occafions, to think beforehand as little as we can; to enjoy as much of the present as will not endanger our futurity, and to provide ourfelves with the Virtuofo's faddle, which will be fure to amble, when the world is upon the hardest trot. What I humbly offer to your lordship, is of this nature. I wish it pleasant, and am fure it is innocent. May you ever continue your esteem for Virgil; and not leffen it, for the faults of his translator; who is, with all manner of respect and sense of gratitude,

My Lord,

Your lordship's

moft humble and

moft obedient fervant,

JOHN DRYDEN.

THE

The occafion of the firft Paftoral was this. When Augustus had settled himself in the Roman empire, that he might reward his veteran troops for their past service, he diftributed among them all the lands that lay about Cremona and Mantua : turning out the right owners for having fided with his enemies. Virgil was a fufferer among the reft; who afterwards recovered his estate by Mecenas's interceffion, and as an instance of his gratitude composed the following Paftoral; where he fets out his own good fortune in the perfon of Tityrus, and the calamities of his Mantuan neighbours in the character of Me-libœus.

MELIBOEUS

BENEATH the fhade which beechen boughs diffufe,You, Tityrus, entertain your fylyan Muse :

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Round:

Round the wide world in banishment we roam,
Forc'd from our pleasing fields and native home :
While stretch'd at eafe you fing your happy loves ;
And Amarillis fills the fhady groves.

TIT. These bleffings, friend, a Deity bestow'd :
For never can I deem him lefs than God.
The tender firstlings of my woolly breed
Shall on his holy altar often bleed.

He gave my kine to graze the flowery plain ;
And to my pipe renew'd the rural strain.

MEL. I envy not your fortune, but admire,
That while the raging fword and wasteful fire
Destroy the wretched neighbourhood around,
No hoftile arms approach your happy ground.
Far different is my fate: my feeble goats
With pains I drive from their forfaken cotes :
And this you fee I fcarcely drag along,
Who yeaning on the rocks has left her young;
(The hope and promise of my failing fold.)
My lofs by dire portents the gods foretold :
For had I not been blind, I might have seen
Yon riven oak, the fairest of the green,
And the hoarse raven, on the blasted bough,
By croaking from the left prefag'd the coming blow.
But tell me, Tityrus, what heavenly power
Preferv'd your fortunes in that fatal hour?

TIT. Fool that I was, I thought imperial Rome Like Mantua, where on market-days we come, 30 And thither drive our tender lambs from home.

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.So

So kids and whelps their fires and dams exprefs :
And fo the great I meafur'd by the lefs.
But country towns, compar'd with her, appear
Like shrubs when lofty cypreffes are near.

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MEL. What great occafion call'd you hence to Rome! TIT. Freedom, which came at length, though flow

to come:

Nor did my fearch of liberty begin,

Till my black hairs were chang'd upon my chin.⠀
Nor Amarillis would vouchfafe a look,
Till Galatea's meaner bonds I broke.

Till then a helplefs, hopeless, homely fwain,
I fought not freedom, nor aspir'd to gain :
Though many a victim from my folds was bought,
And many a cheese to country markets brought,
Yet all the little that I got, I spent,

And still return'd as empty as I went.

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MEL. We ftood amaz'd to see your mistress mourn; Unknowing that the pin'd for your return : We wonder'd why she kept her fruit fo long, For whom fo late th' ungather'd apples hung But now the wonder ceafes, fince I fee

She kept them only, Tityrus, for thee.

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For thee the bubbling springs appear'd to mourn,
And whispering pines made vows for thy return.
TIT. What should I do, while here I was en-

chain'd,

No glimpse of god-like liberty remain'd;
Nor could I hope in any place but there,
To find a god fo prefent to my prayer.
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There

There firft the youth of heav'nly birth I view'd,
For whom our monthly victims are renew'd.
He heard my vows, and graciously decreed

My grounds to be reftor'd, my former flocks to feed.
MEL. O fortunate old man! whose farm remains
For you fufficient, and requites your pains :

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Though rushes overspread the neighbouring plains.
Though here the marshy grounds approach your fields.
And there the foil a stony harvest yields,

Your teeming ewes fhall no strange meadows try,
Nor fear a rott from tainted company.

Behold yon bordering fence of fallow trees

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Is fraught with flowers, the flowers are fraught with

bees :

The bufy bees with a foft murmuring strain
Invite to gentle fleep the labouring swain.

While from the neighbouring rock, with rural fongs75
The pruner's voice the pleafing dream prolongs;
Stock-doves and turtles tell their amorous pain,
And, from the lofty elms, of love complain.

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TIT. Th' inhabitants of feas and skies fhall change, And fish on fhore, and ftags in air shall range, The banish'd Parthian dwell on Arar's brink, And the blue German shall the Tigris drink : Ere I, forfaking gratitude and truth,

Forget the figure of that godlike youth.

MEL. But we must beg our bread in clime s unknown, Beneath the fcorching or the freezing zone.

And fome to far Oaxis fhall be fold;

Or try the Libyan heat, or Scythian cold.

The