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For mighty Mars, the dreadful god of arms,

Who wakes or stills the battle's dire alarms,

In love's strong fetters by thy charms is bound,

And languishes with an eternal wound.

Oft from his bloody toil the god retires

To quench in thy embrace his fierce desires.

Soft on thy heaving bosom he reclines,

And round thy yielding neck transported twine*;

There fix'd in ecstacy intense surveys

Thy kindling beauties with insatiate gaze,

Grows to thy balmy mouth, and ardent sips

Celestial sweets from thy ambrosial lips.

O while the god with fiercest raptures blest

Lies all dissolving on thy sacred breast,

O breathe thy melting whispers to his ear,

And bid him still the loud alarms of war.

In these tumultuous days the Muse in vain,

Her steady tenour lost, pursues the strain,

And Memmius's generous soul disu tins to tastft

The calm delights of philosophic rest;

Paternal fires his beating breast inflame,

To rescue Rome, and vindicate her name


Ilectius vives, Licini

WoillDST thou through life securely glide,
Nor boundless o'er the ocean ride;
Nor ply too near th' insidious shore.
Scared at the tempest's threatening roar.
The man who follows Wisdom's voice,
And makes the golden mean his choice,
Nor plunged in antique gloomy cells
'Midst boa^-y desolation dwellsj

Nor to allure the envious eye
Rears his proud palace to the sky.

The pine, that all the grove transcends,
With every blast the tempest rends;
Totters the tower with thund'rous sound,
And spreads a mighty ruin round j
Jove's bolt with desolating blow
Strikes the ethereal mountain's brow.

The man, whose steadfast soul can bear
Fortune indulgent or severe,
Hopes when she frowns, and when she smile*
With cautious fear eludes her wiles.
Jove with rude winter wastes the plain,
Jove decks the rosy spring again.
Life's former ills are overpast,
Nor will the present always last.
Now Phcebus wings his shafts, and now
He lays aside th' unbended bow,
Strikes into life the trembling string,
And wakes the silent Muse to sing.

With unabating courage, brave Adversity's tumultuous wave; When too propitious breezes rjse, And the light vessel swiftly flies, With timid caution catch the gale, And shorten the distended sail.


O Fons Biandusiae

BLANDIJSIA! more than crystal clear!
Whose soothing murmurs charm the ear!
Whose margin soft with flowrets crown'd
Invites the festive band around,

Their careless limbs diffused supine,
To quaff the soul-ei.livening wine.

To thee a tender kid I vow,
That aims for fight his budding brow;
In thought, the wrathful combat prove
Or wantons with his little loves:
But vain are all his purposed schemes,
Delusive all his flattering dreams;
To-morrow shall his fervent blood
Stain the .pure silver of thy flood.

When fiery Sirius blasts the plain,
Untouch'd thy gelid streams remain.
To thee, the fainting flocks repair,
To taste thy cool reviving air ',
To thee, the ox with toil opprest,
And lays his languid limbs to rest.

As springs of old renown'd, thy name,
Blest fountain! I devote to fame;
Thus while I sing in deathless lays,
The verdant holm, whose waving sprays
Thy sweet retirement to defend,
High o'er the moss grown rock impend,
Whence prattling in loquacious play
Thy sprightly waters leap away.


Non Ita ceriandi cupidus, qu-am propter amorera
Quod te iiiiiuri aveo Lucret. lib. iii.


MELIBCEUS, TITYRUS. Meliboeus. WHERE the broad beech an ample, shade displays, Your slender reed resounds the sylvan lays, O happy Tityrus! while we, forlorn, Driven from our lands, to distant climes are borne, Stretch'd careless in the peaceful shade you sing, And all the groves with Amaryllis ring.

* It ha« been observed by some critics, who have treated of pasto. ral poetry, tlwt, in every poem or this kind, it is proper that the scene or land-cape, connected with the lirth plot or fable on which ihe poem is founded, l>e delineated with at least as much as i- sufficient to render the de>crip ion particular and pictur squc. How far Virgil has thought lit to attend to such a rule may appear fnm the If marks which the transistor has subjoined to every pastoral.

The scene <>f ti>e first pastoral is pictured out with ureal accuracy. The shepherds Melibceus and Tityrus are represented as conversing together beneath a spreading beech-tree. Flocks and herds are feeding h ird hy. At a little distance we behold, on the one hand a treat rock, and on the other a fence of flowering willows. The prospect as it widen- i- diver ilied with proves, and streams, and some fall Tees, particularly elms. Beyond ali these appear niarhhv grounds, and rocky hi.Is. The ragged and dropping Ho.-k of the unfortunate shepherd particularly the she-goat which he leads along, are no incon-iderable figures in this picture.—The time is the eveni'^r of a summerday, a little before sunset, feee of the original, >. l. 5. 9. 52. 54. 57. 59. 81, tkc.

I his pastoral is said to have been written on the following occasion. Augustus, in order to reward the services of his veterans, bv means o/ whom he had esUhiisbed himself n the Roman empire, dismbuud among them the lands that lay contiguous to Mantua and Cremona. To make way for the-e intruders, the rightful owners,of whom Virgil wis one, were turned out. But our poet, bv the intercession of Mecsenus, was reinstated in his possessions. Meliba-us here personates one of the unhappy exiles, and Virgil is represented under the character of Tityrus.


This peace to a propitious god I owe; None else, my friend, such blessings could bestow. Him will I celebrate with rights divine, And frequent lambs shall stain his sacred shrine. By him, these feeding herds in safety stray j By him, in peace I pipe the rural lay. Melibasus.

T envy not, but wonder at your fate,
That no alarms invade tMs blest retreat;
While neighbouring fields the voice of woe resound.
And desolation rages all around.
Worn with fatigue I slowly onward bend,
And scarce my feeble fainting goats attend.
My hand this sickly dam can hardly bear,
Whose young new yean'd (ah once an hopeful pair!)
Amid the tangling hazels as they lay,
On the sharp flint were left to pine away.
These ills I had foreseen, but that my mind
To all portents and prodigies was blind.
Oft have the blasted oaks foretold my woe:
And often has the inauspicious crow,
Perch'd on the withered holm, with fateful criet
ScreamM in my ear her dismal prophecies.
But say, O Tityrus, what god bestows
This blissful life of undisturb'd repose 1

Imperial Rome, while yet to me unknown,
I vainly liken'd to our country town,
Our little Mantua, at which is sold
The yearly offspring of our fruitful fold:
As in the whelp the father's shape appears,
And as the kid its mother's semblance bears.
Thus greater things my inexperienced mind
Rated by others of inferior kind.

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