English'd by Mr. DRYDEN.
The Poet celebrates the Birth day of Salonius, the Son of Pollio, born in the Confulship of his Father, after the taking of Salone, a City in Dalmatia. Many of the Verfes are tranflated from one of the Sibyls, who prophesied of our Saviour's
Icilian Muse begin á loftier ftrain!
Though lowly Shrubs and Trees that shade the Delight not all; if thither I repair,
My Song fhall make 'em worth a Conful's Care.
The laft great Age foretold by facred Rhymes,
Renews its finish'd Course, Saturnian times
Rowl round again, and mighty Years, begun
From their firft Orb in radiant Circles run.
The base degenerate Iron-off-spring ends;
A golden Progeny from Heav'n defcends;
Ochaft Lucina speed the Mother's Pains
And hafte the glorious Birth, thy own Apollo reigns ♪
The lovely Boy, with his aufpicious Face,
Shall Pollie's Confulfhip and Triumph Grace;
Majeftick Months fet out with him to their ap-
pointed Race.
The Father banish'd Virtue shall restore,
And Crimes fhall threat the guilty World no more. The Son fhall lead the Life of Gods, and be
By Gods and Heroes feen, and Gods and Heroes fee, The jarring Nations he in Peace shall bind,
And with paternal Virtues rule Mankind.
Unbidden Earth fhall wreathing Ivy bring,
And fragrant Herbs (the promises of Spring)
As her first Off'rings to her Infant King.
The Goats with ftrutting Dugs fhall homeward fspeed,
And lowing Herds, fecure from Lions feed.
His Cradle shall with rifing Flowers be crown'd;
The Serpents Brood fhall die: the facred Ground
Shall Weeds and pois'nous Plants refuse to bear,
Each common Bush shall Syrian Rofes wear.
But when Heroick Verfe his Youth fhall raise,
And form it to Hereditary Praife;
Unlabour'd Harvests fhall the Fields adorn,
And cluster'd Grapes fhall blush on every Thorn.
The knotted Oaks fhall show'ts of Honey weep,
And through the matted Grass the liquid Gold shall
creep.
Yet, of old Fraud fome footfteps shall remain,
The Merchant ftill fhall plough the Deep for gain
Great Cities fhall with Walls be compass'd round;
And sharpen'd Shares fhall vex the fruitful Ground,
Another Tiphys fhall new Seas explore,
Another Argos on th' Iberian Shore
Shall land the chofen Chiefs:
Another Helen other Wars create,
And great Achilles shall be sent to urge the Trajan fate:
But when to ripen'd Man-hood he shall grow,
The greedy Sailor fhall the Seas forego;
No Keel fhall cut the Waves for foreign Ware;
For every Soil fhall every Product bear.
The labouring Hind his Oxen shall disjoin, [Vine:
No Plow fhall hurt the Glebe, no Pruning-hook the
Nor Wool fhall in diffembled Colours fhine..
But the luxurious Father of the Fold,
With native Purple, or unborrow'd Gold,
Beneath his pompous Fleece hall proudly sweat:
And under Tyrian Robes the Lamb fhall bleat.
The Fates, when they his happy Web have spun,
Shall blefs the facred Clue, and bid it smoothly run,
Mature in Years, to awful Honours move,
O of Cœleftial Stem! O fofter Son of Jove !*
See, labouring Nature calls thee to sustain
The nodding Frame of Heav'n,and Earth, and Main;
See to their Bafe reftor'd, Earth, Seas, and Air, [pear.
And joyful Ages from behind, stand crowding to ap-
To fing thy Praife, wou'd Heav'n my Breath prolong,
Infusing Spirits worthy fuch a Song;
Not Thracian Orpheus fhould tranfcend my Lays,
Nor Linus crown'd with never-fading Bays:
Though each his Heav'nly Farent shou'd infpire;
The Muse inftru&t the Voice, and Phœbus tune the Lyre.
Shou'd Pan contend with me, and thou my Theme,
Arcadian Judges fhou'd their God condemn.
Begin, aufpicious Boy, to caft about
Thy Infant Eyes, and with a smile, thy Mother fingle
Thy Mother well deserves that short delight,
The nauseous Qualms of ten long Months and Tra-
vel to requite.
Then smile; the frowning Infant's Doom is read, No God fhail crown the Board, nor Goddefs blefs. the Bed.
DAPHNI S.
English'd by Mr. DUKE.
MENAL CAS.
Mopfus, fince chance does us together bring,
And you fo well can pipe, and I can fing,
Why fit we not beneath this fecret Shade,
By Elms and Hazels mingling Branches made?
Your Age commands Respect, and I obey,
Whether you in this lonely Copfe will stay,
Where western Winds the bending Branches shake,
And in their play the Shades uncertain make:
Or whether to that filent Cave you go,
The better choice! and fee the wild Vines grow
Luxuriant round, and fee how wide they spread,
And in the Cave their purple Clusters shed!
MEN ALCAS.
Amyntas only dares contend with you.
MOPSU S.
Why not as well contend with Fhæbus too?
MENAL CAS.
Begin, begin, whether the mournful Flame
Of dying Phyllis, whether Alcon's Fame,
Or Codrus's Brawls thy willing Mufe provoke;
Begin, young Tityrus will tend the Flock.
Yes, I'll begin, and the fad Song repeat,
That on the Beech's Bark I lately writ,
And fet to sweetest Notes; yes, I'll begin,
And after that, bid you Amyntas fing.
MENALCAS.
As much as the most humble Shrub that grows,
Yields to the beauteous Blushes of the Rofe,
Or bending Ofiers to the Olive Tree;"
So much, I judge, Amyntas yields to thee.
MOPSU S.
Shepherd, to this Difcourfe, here put an end,
This is the Cave, fit and my Verfe attend.
When the fad Fate of Daphnis reach'd their Ears,
The pitying Nymphs diffolv'd in pious Tears.
Witnefs, you Hazels, for you heard their Cries,
Witnefs, you Floods, fwoln with their weeping Eyes,
The mournful Mother (on his Body caft)
The fad remains of her cold Son embrac'd,
And of th' unequal Tyranny they us'd,
The cruel Gods and cruel Stars accus'd.
Then did no Swain mind how his Flock did thrive,
Nor thirty Herds to the cold River drive;
The generous Horfe turn'd from fresh Streams his
And on the sweetest Grafs refus'd to feed. [Head,
Daphnis, thy death, even fiercest Lions mourn'd,
And Hills and Woods their cries and groans return'd,
Daphnis Armenian Tygers fierceness broke,
And brought 'em willing to the facred Yoke:
Daphnis to Bacchus Worship did ordain
The Revels of his confecrated Train;
The Reeling Priefts with Vines and Ivy crown'd,
And their long Spears with cluster'd Branches bound,
As Vines the Elm, as Grapes the Vine adorn,
As Bulls the Herd, as Fields the ripen'd Corn ;
Such Grace, fuch Ornament wert thou to all
That glory'd to be thine: Since thy fad Fall,
No more Apollo his glad prefence yields,
And Pales felf forfakes her hated Fields.
Oft where the finest Barley we did fow,
Barren Wild-Oates, and hurtful Darnel grow 3
And where foft Violets did the Vales adorn,
The Thistle rises and the prickly Thorn. [ground,
Come Shepherds, ftrow with Flow'rs the hallow'd
The facred Fountains with thick Boughs furround;
Daphnis these Rites requires: to Daphnis' Praise
Shepherds a Tomb with this Infcription raise,
Here fam'd from Earth to Heaven I Daphnis lie;
Fair was the Flock I fed, but much more fair was In
MEN ALCAS.
Such, divine Poet, to my ravish'd Ears
Are the fweet numbers of thy mournful Verse,
As to tir'd Swains foft flumbers on the Grafs;
As fresheft Springs that through green Meadows pafs,
To one that's parch'd with thirst and fummer's hear.
In thee thy Mafter does his Equal meet:
Whether your Voice you try, or tune your Reed,
Bleft Swain, 'tis you alone can him fucceed!
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