The Works of Virgil :: :: University of Virginia Library

First my Thalia in Sicilian Verse
Deign'd to disport, nor blush'd to haunt the Groves:
When Kings and Arms I sung; Apollo twitch'd
My Ear, and warn'd me; Tityrus a Swain
Should feed his fattling Lambs, play humbler Notes.
Now I (for Others, Varus' will be found
To chant Thy Praises, and record Thy Wars)
Indulge my slender Reed, and rural Muse.
'Tis by Command I sing: Yet This, ev'n This
If any, smit with fond Desire, shall read;
Thee, Varus, Thee our Shrubs, and ev'ry Lawn
Shall sound; nor any Page please Phœbus more,
Than That which shines, inscrib'd with Varus' Name.

Say, Muses. Chromis, and Mnasylus saw
Stretch'd in his Cave Silenus sleeping lie;
His Veins full swoln with yesterday's Debauch,
As usual: From his Head at distance fall'n

His Garland lay; and, with it's Handle worn,
His pond'rous Tankard hung. They (for the Sire
Had often with the Promise of a Song
Deceiv'd them Both) approach, and bind him fast
With Manacles from his own Garland made.
Them, unresolv'd, and tim'rous, Ægle joins,
Ægle, the fairest Nymph that rules the Streams;
And now, ev'n while he sees it, with the Blood
Of Mulberries his Brow, and Temples stains.
He smiling at their Play; And why These Bonds?
Release me, Boys; Suffice it that by You
I have been seen: The Song You wish, attend:
A Song for You; The Nymph shall in her Turn
Be otherwise oblig'd. He Then begins.
Then might you see the Fauns, and savage Beasts
Dance in just Measures, and the rigid Oaks
Bow their stiff Heads: Nor does Parnassus' Top

So much rejoice in Phœbus, nor so much
Do Thracian Mountains Orpheus' Verse admire.
For There he sung, how thro' the mighty Void
The Seeds of Earth, and Water, Air, and Fire,
Consolidated met; How first from These
The Elements, and the World's recent Globe
Compounded rose: How then the firmer Soil
Grew hard, and in it's Chanel shut the Sea,
And by degrees of various Things receiv'd
Th'unnumber'd Species: How the Earth admir'd
To see the new-born Sun with glory shine;
How Show'rs from high-hung Clouds distill'd; When first
The Woods began to rise; and thin, dispers'd,
The Animals o'er unknown Mountains rov'd.
Next Pyrrha's Race he sings, from Stones transform'd,
Caucasean Vulturs, and Prometheus Theft,

And Saturn's Reign. To These he adds the Brook,
O'er which the Sailors on lost Hylas call'd,
And ev'ry Shore with Hylas, Hylas, rung.
Rasiphae's Passion for the Snow-white Bull
He then consoles; Pasiphae, happy Dame,
Happy, if Herds of Neat had never been:
Ah! wretched Queen! What Frenzy turns thy Brain?
The Prætides with fancy'd Lowings fill'd
The Pastures; Yet of Them none sought such foul
Embraces; tho' they fear'd the Plough, and oft
In their smooth Foreheads, dubious, felt for Horns.
Ah! wretched Queen! Thou o'er the pathless Hills
Art wand'ring: He, his snow-white Side reclin'd
On a soft Hyacinth, beneath an Oak
O'ershading, ruminates the paler Grass;
Or courts some Female of the num'rous Herd:

Ye Nymphs, Dictæan Nymphs, beset the Glades,
And Passes of the Thickets; Chance may bring
His wandring Footsteps obvious to our Sight;
Perhaps some Heifers to Gortynian Stalls
May lead him, or with verdant Grass entic'd,
Or following his own accustom'd Herds.
The Virgin, who Hesperian Apples lov'd,
He sings the next. Then binds with mossy Bark
Young Phaeton's Sisters, and tall Poplars rears.
Then Gallus, wand'ring near Permessus' Stream,
He sings; How One among the Sacred Nine
Conducted him to see th'Aönian Mount;
How to the Bard all Phœbus' Quire arose;
And how the Shepherd Linus, crown'd with Flow'rs,
And bitter Parsley, Thus in Verse divine
Address'd him: Take This Pipe, the Muses' Gift,
Which to'th'Ascræan Senior erst they gave;
With which from Hills the rigid Oaks he drew.
With This sing Thou the Birth of Gryneum's Grove,
And let no Grove be more Apollo's Pride.
Why should I tell how Scylla, Nisus-born,

With barking Monsters, round her Waist, inclos'd,
Vex'd the Dulichian Ships (so Fame relates)
And in the gulphy Ocean, dire to see!
With wild Sea-Dogs the trembling Sailors tore?
Or how of Tereus' metamorphos'd Form
He sung; for Him what Present, what a Feast
By vengeful Philomela was prepar'd,
With what a Flight he sought the desart Woods,
On the same Wings, with which, (ill-fated Change!)
He flutter'd round the Palace once his own?
All, which of old by singing Phœbus' bless'd,
Eurotas heard, and bade its Laurels learn,

Silenus sung; The echoing Vales return
The Sounds, and beat them backwards to the Stars:
'Till Vesper warn'd to fold, and count, the Flocks;
And rose unwelcome on the list'ning Sky.