The fifter's mourning for the brother's lofs;
Their bodies hid in barks, and furr'd with mofs.
How each a rifing alder now appears :
And o'er the Po diftils her gummy tears.
Then fung, how Gallus by a Mufe's hand
Was led and welcom'd to the facred ftrand.
The fenate rifing to falute their guest;
And Linus thus their gratitude exprefs'd,
Receive this prefent, by the Muses made;
The pipe on which th' Afcræan paftor play'd;
With which of old he charm'd the favage train,
And call'd the mountain afhes to the plain.
Sing thou on this, thy Phœbus; and the wood
Where once his fane of Parian marble flood.
On this his ancient oracles rehearse,
And with new numbers grace the God of verfe.
Why should I fing the double Scylla's fate,
The first by love transform'd, the last by hate.
A beauteous maid above, but magic arts
With barking dogs deform'd her nether parts:
What vengeance on the paffing fleet fhe pour'd,
The mafter frighted, and the mates devour'd.
Then ravish'd Philomel the fong expreft;
The crime reveal'd; the fifters cruel feaft:
And how in fields the lapwing Tereus reigns;
The warbling nightingale in woods complains.
While Progne makes on chimney-tops her moan; 115
And hovers o'er the palace once her own.
Whatever songs besides, the Delphian God
Had taught the laurels, and the Spartan flood,
Silenus fung: the vales his voice rebound,
And carry to the skies the facred found.
And now the setting fun had warn'd the fwain
To call his counted cattle from the plain :
Yet ftill th' unweary'd fire purfues the tuneful ftrain.
Till unperceiv'd the heavens with stars were hung:
And fudden night furpriz'd the yet unfinish'd fong.
THE ARGUMENT.
Melibæus here gives us the relation of a sharp poetical contest between Thyrfis and Corydon; at which he himself and Daphnis were prefent; who both declared for Corydon.
BENEATH a holm, repair'd two jolly fwains;
Their fheep and goats together graz'd the plains:
Both young Arcadians, both alike infpir'd
To fing, and answer as the song requir'd.
Daphnis, as umpire, took the middle seat ;
And fortune thither led my weary feet.
For while I fenc'd my myrtles from the cold,
The father of my flock had wander'd from the fold.
Of Daphnis I enquir'd; he, fmiling, faid,
Difmifs your fear, and pointed where he fed.
And, if no greater cares disturb your mind,
Sit here with us, in covert of the wind.
Your lowing heifers, of their own accord,
At watering time will feek the neighbouring ford.
Here wanton Mincius winds along the meads,
And shades his happy banks with bending reeds :
And fee from yon old oak, that mates the skies,
How black the clouds of fwarming bees arife.
What should I do! nor was Alcippe nigh,
Nor abfent Phyllis could my care fupply,
To house, and feed by hand my weaning lambs,
And drain the strutting udders of their dams?
Great was the ftrife betwixt the finging fwains :
And I preferr'd my pleasure to my gains.
Alternate rhyme the ready champions chofe :
Thefe Corydon rehears'd, and Thyrfis those.
COR. Ye Mufes, ever fair, and ever young,
Affift my numbers, and infpire my fong.
With all
my Codrus O infpire my breast,
For Codrus, after Phœbus, Angs the best.
Or if my wishes have prefum'd too high,
And ftretch'd their bounds beyond mortality,
The praife of artful numbers I refign:
And hang my pipe upon the facred pine.
THYR. Arcadian fwains, your youthful poet crown With ivy wreaths; though furly Codrus frown. Or if he blast my Mufe with envious praife, Then fence my brows with amulets of bays; Left his ill arts or his malicious tongue Should poifon or bewitch my growing fong, COR. These branches of a ftag, this tusky boar
(The firft effay of arms untry'd before)
Young Mycon offers, Delia, to thy shrine;
But speed his hunting with thy power divine.
Thy ftatue then of Parian stone shall stand;
Thy legs in buskins with a purple band.
THYR. 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 turn'd to gold.
COR. Fair Galatea, with thy filver feet,
O, whiter than the swan, and more than Hybla fweet;
Tall as a poplar, taper as the bole,
Come charm thy fhepherd, and restore my foul.
Come when my lated sheep at night return;
And crown the filent hours, and ftop the rofy morn.
THYR. May I become as abject in thy fight,
As fea-weed on the fhore, and black as night:
Rough as a bur, deform'd like him who chaws
Sardinian herbage to contract his jaws;
Such and fo monftrous let thy fwain appear,
If one day's abfence looks not like a year.
Hence from the field for fhame: the flock deferves
No better feeding, while the fhepherd starves.
COR. Ye moffy fprings, inviting easy fleep, Ye trees, whofe leafy fhades thofe moffy fountains keep, Defend my flock; the fummer heats are near, And bloffoms on the fwelling vines appear.
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