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273

BOOK III.

Thy praise, propitious Pales, next we sing,
With thee fam'd shepherd of Amphrysus' spring;
Ye too, Lycaeus' groves, and gushing streams,
For vain are trivial tales, and vulgar themes;
Familiar all the songs that once cou'd please,
Busiris' shrines, Eurystheus' dire decrees.
Can Dian's isle or Hylas longer charm?
Or Pelops famous for his ivory arm,
Whose steeds victorious in the dusty race
Won him the fair Hippodame's embrace?

275

I too must find a path untrod before,
And far from groveling earth, to fame sublimely soar.
I first of Romans to th'Hesperian plain,
Will lead th'Aönian nymphs, if life remain:
E'n here Idumes' beauteous palms shall rise,
Exchange their soil, and bloom in Mantuan skies.
These hands a fane of Parian stone shall build,
Where Mincio's stream bedews the verdant field;
And spreading wide his ling'ring waters, feeds
Around his winding shores the tender reeds;

277

In the mid dome shall Caesar's form divine
Superior stand, the godhead of the shrine.
Mean time myself to grace the solemn feast,
Chief of the sports, in Tyrian purple drest,

279

Will lash an hundred cars, like chiefs of yore,
By four-yok'd horses whirl'd along the sounding shore.
Greece shall forsake her seats of ancient fame,
To try on Roman ground, th'heroic game;

281

With manly arm the weighty gauntlet wield,
Or lightly skim with winged feet the field.
While I, my brows with olive-chaplet bound,
The meed of each victorious toil propound.
Ev'n now I seem the stately pomp to lead,
Now, now, beneath my steel the victims bleed:

283

I see the turning scene swift change its face,
The pictur'd Britons in the curtains trace,
Which seem to lift the tapestry they grace.

285

High on the gates, the fell Gangarian fight
In gold and ivory wrought, shall strike the sight.
Here swoln with war, majestic Nile shall pass,
And the tall columns rise in naval brass:
Prostrate in dust, there Asia's cities weep,
And huge Niphates bend his mountain steep;
The Parthians there the backward arrow ply,
Fight in retreat, and conquer as they fly:
Caesar shall here a double triumph boast,
And conquer'd nations kneel from either coast.
Around in order'd ranks an awful band,
Rome's ancestors in breathing stone shall stand:
Thy seed, Assaracus, the mighty line
That drew from Jove its origin divine:
Next Tros, whom Troy her ancient father calls,
With him, the god who rais'd her lofty walls.
Envy, foul fiend, shall view with baleful eyes
Cocytus' billows black around her rise;
The stings of mad Ixion's snakes shall feel,
Quake at th'unconquer'd stone, and ever-whirling wheel.
Mean time, Maecenas, we'll the woods pursue;
Nor light this arduous task enjoyn'd by you.
Without thine aid no fancy fires my breast;
Haste, let us burst the bands of idle rest.

287

Hark, from afar Cythaeron's voice I hear,
Taygetus' opening dogs my spirits chear;
With neighing steeds tall Epidaure resounds;
From the deep groves the doubling din rebounds.
The time may come, when my maturer muse
Augustus' glowing fights her theme shall chuse:
And thro' more ages bid his glory last,
Than have from Tithon's birth to Caesar past.
The youth, who studious of th'Olympic meed,
And fond of fame, would rear the stately steed;
Or bend the sturdy bullock to the share,
Must chuse the dam with nice sagacious care.
First, by these marks select thy mother-cow,

75. A clumsy head.] Varro and Columella say that a good cow's head should be large, latis frontibus, her neck long and broad, her dew-laps hanging low, and in general, that her body should be long and large. Ut sint bene compositae, ut integris membris oblongae, amplae—corpore amplo, bene costatos, largis humeris, bonis clunibus.—Virgil seems to have had his eye on this passage. Varro likewise mentions the length of tail.

A clumsy head, broad neck, and lowering brow:

Her double dew-laps from her chin must rise,
In spacious folds descending o'er her thighs:
Be her's a disproportion'd length of side,
Her limbs all fram'd with vast unwieldy pride:
Let tufts of hair her ample feet adorn,
Rough be her ear, and wreath'd her bending horn:
Nor less her worth, if o'er her jetty skin,
Few random spots of snowy white be seen;
Or if she aim a blow, or spurn the yoke,
Or wear a stern-brow'd bull's rough threatening look.
Majestic she must walk with lofty mien,
And proudly sweep with length of tail the green.
When now four years have steel'd her lusty frame,
Then let her prove kind Hymen's mutual flame:
At ten release her; now no more to prove
The toils of culture, or the joys of love.
Mean time, while warmth of youthful blood prevails,
To the soft bliss admit thy sprightly males:

289

Let their first vigour try the fierce embrace;
So herds shall rise on herds, and race on race.
The days of youth advance with double speed,
Too soon the pains of dire disease succeed;
Unnumber'd toils approach, and helpless age,
And cruel death's inexorable rage.
For fresh supplies thy weary'd cows remove;
Nor place on one alone the weight of love.
Still propagate thy breed with annual care,
And with new births the fleeting race repair.
These rules direct alike to chuse the steed;
And if you wish to rear a generous breed,
Nurse from his earliest youth the chosen sire,
And feed with careful hand his native fire.
Ev'n now the colt treads high with stately pace,
And moves his pliant limbs with easy grace;
Outstrips the rest; the first that dares to brave
The unknown bridge, or tempt the threatning wave:
No sudden sounds alarm his soul with dread;
Sublime his arched neck, and small his head:
Short paunch, and breadth of back his might attest,
And prominent with brawn his fearless breast.
Of colours chuse the dapple or the grey,
For white and dun a dastard race betray.
Lo! when the battle's distant din he hears,
Restless he paws; erects his eager ears;

291

With generous fury glows his quivering frame,
And from his nostril bursts the fierce, collected flame.
O'er his right shoulder his redundant mane
Waves to the zephyr as he skims the plain.
Thro' his broad back shoots a divided spine,
And arms with double force his mighty chine.
While o'er the green as his fleet hoof is borne,
Echoes the trembling ground beneath the solid horn.
Such Cyllarus; by Spartan Pollux tam'd,
And such the steeds, in Grecian story fam'd,
That to the battle bore the god of war,
And whirl'd the fierce Achilles' thund'ring car:
Such Saturn too, when from the guilty bed,
Cloath'd in a flowing mane, his queen he fled,
And pierc'd with neighings shrill hoar Pelion's piny head.
When now his strength and youthful years decay,
With no inglorious ease his pains repay;
But grant him, of thy gratitude, to close
His honour'd age at home in safe repose.
When genial warmth has left his frozen veins,
Love is a toil, and barren are his pains.
In all the rage of impotent desire,
As o'er the stubble flies the catching fire,
His sparks are spent, and in a flash expire.
Be careful then to mark the stallion's age,
His feats, his offspring, and his native rage;
Whether he grieve, when in the race outdone,
Or proudly triumph in the trophy won.
Dost thou not see the car's contending train,
Shoot from the goal, and pour along the plain?
By varying fits, each trembling charioteer,
Now flush'd with hope, now pale with panting fear,

293

Plies the loud lash, hangs headlong o'er the reins;
Swift bounds the fervid axle o'er the plains:
Now deep in dust obscur'd the chariot flies,
Now mounts in air, and gains upon the skies.
The strife runs high, too fierce for dull delay,
The dusty volumes darken all the way:
Bath'd in their followers' foam appear the first:
Such is the love of praise, and glory's eager thirst.
First Erichthonius dar'd with dauntless skill
To yoke four steeds, and guide the victor's rapid wheel.
Thessalia taught the conduct of the bit,
To mount the steed, and form his pliant feet
To paw the ground, to wheel, and turn with grace,
And tread the plain with more majestic pace.
The same the labour and the praise to breed,
Or for the bit or car, the vigorous steed:
In each is requisite a generous rage,
A swiftness in the course, and blooming age.
Without these virtues, vain all former boast,
That erst he chas'd in fight a trembling host;

295

Tho' Argos, or Epirus gave him birth,
Or Neptune's trident-stroke, that op'd the pregnant earth.
These rules observ'd, with fattening plenty feed
The husband of the herd, and father of thy breed:
With genial herbs his amorous heat sustain,
And give the copious stream, and golden grain;
Lest weak he faint amid the soft embrace,
The famish'd father of a puny race.
But to the mares deny thy soft'ning food,
And drive them from the browze and cooling flood,
When now the new desires invade their boiling blood:
Oft bid them glow beneath the sunny ray,
And oft fatigue them thro' the dusty way:
When groan the floors beneath the trampled corn,
And light in air the fluttering chaff is borne;
Lest too luxurious ease and plenty cloy,
Blunt the keen sense, and choak the paths of joy:
So shall the female feel the flowing seed,
And suck with greedy rage the rushing steed.
Enough of males; at length transfer thy care,
From the tall stallion, to the teeming mare.

297

Let her no more, along the lab'ring ground,
Draw the slow car, or leap the rising mound:
Nor tempt the flood, nor skim the level mead,
But turn her lonesome in the lawns to feed,
Soft with the greenest grass, and many a mossy bed:
Where some full river rolls his plenteous waves,
Mid' shades of ridgy rocks, and cooling caves.
Along the forests dark where Selo flows,
And old Alburnus lifts his ilex-crowned brows.
Of winged insects swarms a frequent flight,
Aestron in Greece; at Rome Asilus hight;
Soon as their issuing hosts, with humming sound
Approach, the cattle quit the groves around;
The skies re-echo to the mingling roar,
The groves, and dry Tanager's sultry shore!
This plague, the just revenge of guilty love,
To frantic rage th'Inachian heifer drove.
More thick they swarm, when glows the noon-tide heat,
Then shift thy pregnant herd to some sequester'd seat;
Or drive them forth, when dawns the purple light,
Or Hesper gilds with glittering stars the night.
When now the dam has felt Lucina's pains,
A farther care to rear the calf remains;
On each, betimes, imprint the branding fire,
To note the name, the lineage, and the sire.
Let this be doom'd to propagate the breed;
This at the sacred shrine a victim bleed:
But that be destin'd in the field to toil,
Break the stiff clods, and cleave the stubborn soil;
And let thy unmark'd herds, as leisure leads,
Wanton, inglorious, o'er the grassy meads.

299

The steers allotted to the shining share,
Observe to teach and tame with timely care;
While now their tender years correction bear.
Bind them with collars from the tender spray,
And when their necks the servile band obey,
Connect two well-match'd bullocks in the trace,
And bid them learn in pairs the plain to pace.
Oft let them draw the waggon's empty load,
Whose wheels scarce print the dust, or mark the road:
Next let them smoke beneath th'incumbent mass,
Join'd to the beechen axle, bound with brass.
Mean time thy unyok'd young not only feed
With grass and willow-leaves, or marshy weed;
But crop with careful hand the nodding ears;
Nor let the dam (as erst in ancient years)
Contribute to the pail her milky load;
Be all her udder on her calf bestow'd.
But if thy bosom burn in ranks of war
To lead the marshall'd host, or urge the car,
Where strays thro' Pisa's plain th'Alphaean flood,
Or whirl along the thund'rer's echoing wood
To trumpets shrill, to many a martial deed,
And glare of glittering arms inure the steed:
Oft let him toil the slow car's load to bear,
The rustling reins oft rattle in his ear:
With flattery sooth him, while with conscious pride,
He feels his master clap his sounding side.
Begin betimes; while weak and youthful yet,
Bend his soft mouth to brook a slender bit;
Just wean'd and trembling from his mother's side;
New to the curb, and in the course untry'd.

301

But when to four full springs his years advance,
Teach him to run the ring, with pride to prance;
The plain in measur'd steps and time to beat,
And in alternate paces shift his feet.
Oft let him seem to spring with labour'd might;
And challenge whirlwinds in his airy flight:
While as he pours abroad with loosen'd reins,
His lightsome feet scarce touch the printless plains.
Like Boreas in his course, when rushing forth
He calms the Scythian skies, and clears the cloudy north:
Resound the tall tops of the trembling trees,
The heavy harvests nod beneath the breeze:
O'er plains, o'er seas, the driving tempest sweeps,
And to the founding shore pursues the boiling deeps.
A steed like this, with conquering steps will strain,
And foam with blood across th'Elean plain;
Or with obedient neck the Belgic car sustain.
When now the colt is broke to bear command,
Feed him with kindly care, and plenteous hand:
While yet untam'd, his pamper'd pride disdains
To feel the sounding lash, and galling reins.
To keep thy bulls or steeds of strength entire,
Restrain them from the stings of blind desire.
Banish thy bulls to some far lonely scene,
Where vast rocks, and wide rivers intervene:
Or to the plenteous stall the beast remove,
Far from the tender sex, and lure of love.

303

For while the female charms his sickening sight,
No more the groves, or springing grass invite.
She vers'd in wanton looks, and winning wiles,
The mighty rivals to the fight beguiles.
The beauteous heifer strays the darksom wood;
With mutual rage they rush; thick streams the sable blood;
From their broad brows the clashing horns rebound,
With bellowings loud the groves and skies resound.
Nor when the war is o'er, their rage expires,
To distant vales the vanquish'd wretch retires;
Weeps his disgrace, his conqu'ring rivals boast,
Yet more the fair, that unreveng'd he lost:
And oft with pensive looks, as he retreats,
The parting exile views his ancient seats.
Then steels his limbs to toil, improves his might,
And roughly rests on craggy flints the night:
On prickly leaves and pointed rushes fed,
He feigns to gore a tree with butting head,
Bends his stern brows and pushes at the air,
And spurns the scatter'd sand, a prelude of the war.
Then when his nerves with new-felt fury glow,
Headlong he seeks his unexpecting foe.
As when a rising billow by degrees,
Begins to boil amid the whitening seas;
Loud o'er the rocks it rolls with horrid roar,
And mountain-like bursts on the subject shore:
The troubled depths in circling eddies rise,
And heave the sable sand in whirlwinds to the skies.

305

Thus man and beast, the tenants of the flood,
The herds that graze the plain, the feathery brood,
Rush into love, and feel the general flame;
For love is lord of all, and is in all the same.
'Tis with this rage the mother lion stung,
Prowls o'er the plain, regardless of her young.
'Tis then the shapeless bear with scenes of blood,
With murderous deeds pollutes th'affrighted wood:
Then boars in fight with double warmth engage,
And the grim tygress calls forth all her rage.
Ah! wretched then the traveller who strays
Forlorn o'er Lybia's unfrequented ways!
See, what thick pants the stallion's fires declare,
Whene'er in tainted gales he scents the mare:
Nor curbs, nor torturing whips his rage restrain,
And mountains rise to check his flight in vain;
In vain the torrent rolls, that tumbling sweeps
The massy fragment from the craggy steeps.
Rushes the Sabine boar, and rends the ground,
And whets his tusks to strike the surer wound:
Rubs his rough sides against th'accustom'd oak,
And disciplines his brawn to bear the rival's stroke.
How fares the youth, who feels the pleasing pain?
His marrow pierce, and throb in every vein?
Above from heaven's high gate the thunder roars,
The dashing waves re-echo round the shores.
Nor weeping parents, nor the fated fair
Retards his course, too soon his cruel death to share!
Why should I sing how hungry wolves engage,
How beasts of Bacchus' car, how mastiffs rage:
Ev'n timorous stags provoke the woodland war;
But far above the rest the passion of the mare.

307

Ev'n Venus here a stronger lust inspir'd,
When to revenge the Potnian mares she fir'd.
Wing'd with desire they bound o'er Gargarus' height,
Nor loud Ascanius' torrents stay their flight.
When now their veins the vernal mildness warms,
And with kind heat their lusty limbs informs;
To the tall cliffs impatient they repair,
And from the westward snuff the fleeting air:
Where (wonderous power!) without th'assisting steed,
Made pregnant by the parent-breeze they breed.
Thence wild o'er rocks and deep-sunk vallies stray,
Far from the northern blast, or source of day;
Or whence wet Auster's gloomy damps arise
To hang with sable clouds the sadden'd skies.
Hence from their wombs, what th'artless shepherd calls
Hippomanes, a trickling poison falls:
Which baleful step-dames in the bowl infuse,
With many murmurs mix'd, and herbs of magic juice.
But time is on the wing; too far we rove
Bewilder'd in the pleasing paths of love.
Enough of herds: new labours now succeed,
The shaggy goats and fleecy flocks to feed.
Hence shall the husbandman new trophies raise,
While his low cares I lift in labour'd lays:
Nor slight, to grace so mean a theme, the toil,
And beautify with flow'rs a barren soil.
But me the sweet desire of sacred praise
Leads forth to trace Parnassus' pathless ways,

309

Down to Castalia's spring my car to guide,
Where never poet mark'd the mountain's side.
Now, mighty Pales, I resound thy reign,
(O grant thine aid) in more majestic strain.
First let thy sheep, beneath the fostering shed,
Till verdant spring returns, with grass be fed:
Strew fern beneath, lest from the piercing ice
O'er their soft skins the loathsome scabs arise.
Nor less, thy goats with leafy fodder fill,
And give them water recent from the rill.
Safe from the stormy north, their stalls prepare
To catch the wintry sun, and southern air:
When cold Aquarius, from his cloudy sphere,
Pours his last drops upon the parting year.
Nor less the toil the shaggy goat to raise,
Nor less the profit that the goat repays.
Let Caria boast her Tyrian-tinctur'd fleece;
Yet these afford more numerous increase.
And, as their swelling dugs you drain the more,
In fuller plenty streams the milky store.
Besides, their hairy beards the shepherds shear,
To cover tents, or cloath the mariner.
At will they graze Lycaeus' shrubby top,
And the rough thorn or prickly bramble crop;
Return untended with their bleating train,
And o'er the threshold scarce their strutting dugs sustain.

311

Since then so little of thy care they know,
Guard them from freezing blasts, and icy snow:
Gladly supply them with the leafy spray,
Nor in bleak winter's reign refuse thy hoarded hay.
But when the frolic zephyrs breathe the spring,
Both flocks to graze the verdant pastures bring.
When now the morning-star but dimly dawns,
Lead them to taste the coolness of the lawns:
When hoar with virgin dew the grass appears,
Haste, let them drink the morning's earliest tears.
But when the sun glows hot with parching ray,
And woods resound the shrill cicada's lay:
Then drive them to fresh springs, their thirst to slake;
To troughs of oak, or to the spreading lake.
But at mid-noon, to green and gloomy glades;
Where some tall oak uprears his aged shades:
Or where the ilex-forest, dark and deep,
Sheds holy horrors o'er the hanging steep.
Again refresh them, with their verdant food,
When sinks the sun, and with the crystal flood,
When evening-airs their cooling damps diffuse,
And Cynthia bathes the groves in balmy dews;
When thro' the brakes is heard th'acanthis' song,
And halcyons chaunt the hollow shores among.
Why should I sing of Lybia's artless swains;
Her scattered cottages, and trackless plains?

313

By day, by night, without a destin'd home,
For many a month their flocks all lonely roam;
So vast th'unbounded solitude appears.—
While, with his flock, his all the shepherd bears:
His arms, his houshold gods, his homely shed,
His Cretan darts and dogs of Sparta, bred.
So Rome's brave sons, beneath th'oppressive load
Of arms and baggage, trace the destin'd road;
And while he ne'er suspects th'impending blow,
Sudden unfurl their standards on the foe.
Not so in Scythia shepherds tend their sheep;
Where sad Moeotis spreads his sable deep:
Thick yellow sands where Ister's torrents roll,
And Rhodope returns to meet the pole.
Their flocks they stall; for o'er th'unfruitful scene,
Nor fields, nor trees are cloath'd in lively green.
One waste of snow the joyless landscape lies,
Seven ells in height the ridgy drifts arise.
There still the bitter blasts of winter dwell;
Nor the sun's rays the paly shade dispel,
Or when he climbs his noon-tide course, or laves
His headlong car in ocean's purple waves.

315

Th'encroaching ice the loitering current feels,
And on its bosom bears the studded wheels.
Where erst the stately bark was wont to ride,
Waggons, thro' paths unknown, securely glide.
Oft from the vessel bursts the brazen band,
Stiff round their sides their frozen garments stand.
With sharpen'd steel they cleave the humid wine,
And chains of solid ice whole lakes confine;
Their matted beards, by the keen climate frore,
With hanging icicles are hard and hoar.
Mean time the skies are dim with falling snows;
Thick clouds of sleet th'unwieldy ox enclose:
In growing heaps benumb'd, the crouding deer
Scarce from beneath, their branching antlers rear:
Nor them with hounds the hunter-train surprize,
With nets, or feathers dipt in purple dies;
But with the sword invade them, while in vain
Against the huge reluctant load they strain,
While void of help, in piteous sounds they bray;
Then home, with shouts of triumph, bear the prey.
In caverns deep with oaks uppil'd, they raise,
And many a branching elm, the crackling blaze;
From cold secure, around the flaming hearth,
Waste the long dreary night in social mirth:
Unblest with wine, the goblet still goes round,
With Ceres' juice, and sparkling cyder crown'd.

317

Such is the race of savage swains that lie
Beneath the rigours of the polar sky;
And sore afflicted by the piercing east,
Their limbs with furs and brinded skins invest.
Is wool thy care? avoid the shaggy ground,
Where thistles and the prickly bur abound.
Nor let too fat a soil thy choice invite;
Chuse first a flock with fleeces soft and white.
Tho' white thy ram, yet if a swarthy tongue
Appears beneath his humid palate hung,
Reject him, lest he blacken all the breed,
And let another to the task succeed.
Thus by a snowy fleece, th'Arcadian god
Drew down pale Cynthia from her bright abode;
Nor did'st thou, queen of night disdain his love,
Pleas'd with the cheat, thou met'st him in the grove!
Is milk thy care? with lillies from the brook,
Soft leaves, and salted herbage feed thy flock:
Hence stung with thirst to the clear rills they haste,
Hence are their swelling dugs more tightly brac'd,
While in the milk remains the savoury taste.
Some, when the kids their dams too deeply drain,
Their tender mouths with steely bits restrain.
Their morning-milk the peasants press at night,
Their evening bear to town, when early dawns the light;
Or in the mass, with sparing hand, they pour
The tasteful salt, and keep for winter store.
Nor mean the toil the faithful dog to breed;
With fatt'ning whey the vigorous mastiff feed,
And Sparta's race:—thus, should the thief invade,
Or wolf, thy fold, when night extends her shade;

319

Or roving robber from th'Iberian rocks;
These shall repel their rage, and guard thy flocks:
Thy hound, the wild-ass in the sylvan chace,
Or hare, or hart, with faithful speed will trace;
Assail the muddy cave, with eager cries,
Where the rough boar in sullen ambush lies;
Press the tall stag with clamours echoing shrill,
To secret toils, along th'aërial hill.
Oft in thy stalls let spicy cedar blaze
With galbanum, the serpent-brood to chace.
Beneath th'unshifted sheds, in secret cells
Oft shut from day, the latent mischief dwells:
The viper too that loves a shady seat,
That seeks beneath thy roofs a safe retreat,
Of herds the bane, of sheep the pois'nous pest
Oft broods in secret o'er her darksom nest.
Snatch, shepherd, stones, quick snatch the knotted oak,
And quell his stately crest with many a stroke;
Assail his hissing throat, and swelling spires,
Lo! by degrees his timorous head retires,
And the last orbs of his unfolded tail
A ling'ring length of loosen'd volumes trail.
Calabria's forests breed a baleful snake,
With lofty breast elate, and scaly back,
And with broad spots his winding belly black:
Who when the rivers burst their rocky bounds,
And southern showers bedew the vernal grounds,
Haunts the moist bank, and in the wat'ry bogs
Swells his dire paunch with fish, and croaking frogs:

321

But when keen heat the fens of moisture drains,
And cleaves the glebe, he rages o'er the plains,
While mad with thirst, and fill'd with drear amaze,
At the fierce beam his rolling eye-balls blaze.
May ne'er soft sleep on a green bank, surprize,
Fast by some forest-side, my drooping eyes,
When cast his skin, and sleek in youthful prime,
Recent he rides, before the sun sublime;
Regardless of the nest, deserts his young,
And brandishes and darts his triple-forked tongue.
The causes and the signs shall next be told,
Of dire diseases that infect the fold.
Scabs oft the flock, a foul contagion, seize,
When winter hangs with icicles their fleece;
Or rains have pierc'd, or unwash'd sweats adhere
To their shorn skins, or prickly brambles tear.
Hence in fresh currents of the crystal wave,
With careful hands their flocks the shepherds lave.
While first the father of the bleating crowd,
Floats with his moisten'd fleece along the flood.
Or bathe their limbs in bitter lees of oil,
With bubbles that from molten silver boil;
Live sulphur mix, with tar's black-streaming juice,
Or temper pitch that Ida's pines produce;
Or mingle, fraught with fat, the waxen store,
Or sea-born squills with potent hellebore.
But the best cure which sage experience knows,
Is with a lance the ulcer to disclose.

323

Still grows the sore, while yet the shepherd stands,
Doubtful, nor dares exert his healing hands,
And anxious happier signs of heav'n demands.
But when o'er th'inmost bones the pain hath spread,
On their parcht limbs a raging fever fed,
To quell the bleating sufferer's torrid pain,
Pierce in the bottom-foot the throbbing vein:
This practise the Bisaltae, when they haste
To Rhodope, or roam the Dacian waste:
And fierce Gelonian, when, for savage food,
He blends the milky stream with horse's blood.
If one thou seest affect the cooling shade,
Or cropping listlessly the topmost blade;
Droop on the plain, with ling'ring paces wait
Behind, and home return alone and late;
Soon let thy steel remove th'infected sheep,
Lest o'er th'unwary flock the dire contagion creep.
Less fierce and frequent on the wintry main
Black whirlwinds rush, than plagues that waste the plain:
Nor single deaths suffice, at once they prey
On young and old, and sweep whole herds away.
This truth to know th'aërial Alps behold;
And meads thro' which Timavus' streams are roll'd,
And Noric cliffs with spiry castles crown'd;
Lo! waste and wild the plains appear around,
Ev'n now deserted stands the shepherd's state,
And far and wide the lawns are desolate.

325

Here sprung of old by sickly gales begot,
A plague with all the fires of autumn fraught,
Which slew the beasts that range the field or wood,
Defil'd the freshness of the crystal flood,
And scorch'd with baleful breath the grassy food.
Strange kind of death! for when the parching pain
Had shrunk the limbs, and throbb'd in every vein,
A pois'nous humour flow'd from all the frame,
Till every bone one putrid mass became.
Before the shrine, in snowy fillets drest,
And holy bands, the consecrated beast
Fell, and prevented oft the lingering priest.
Or if he sunk beneath the fatal stroke
Lo! on the shrine, his entrails fail to smoke;
No more, misled by many a doubtful sign,
The prophet can the dark event divine;
While scarce the knife with the red tincture reeks,
Nor the thin gore the sandy surface streaks.
O'er flow'ry meads, or at the plenteous stall,
In lifeless heaps the calves and heifers fall.
The gentle dogs run mad; the sick'ning swine
Pant with thick coughs, with swelling quinsies pine.
The victor horse, forgetful of his food,
The palm renounces, and abhors the flood:

327

By fits, he stamps the ground with eager feet,
While from his body bursts a doubtful sweat;
That stood in icy drops, as death appear'd;
His parch'd hide to the touch is rough and hard.
These signs at first his future fate presage;
But as the spreading pest improv'd its rage,
With sanguine beams fierce glow'd his ardent eyes,
And heav'd his struggling breath with groans and sighs;
Of blood black torrents from his nostrils sprung,
To the swoln palate clove his furry tongue.
Some have at first with short success apply'd,
Pour'd thro' an horn, Lenaeus' purple tide;
But soon fresh fuel to the growing flame
It gave, and death the medicine became:
While, with bare teeth, their limbs all bath'd in gore,
Ev'n in the bitterest dying pangs, they tore.
O crown, ye gods, a pious people's pray'r,
And let the bad alone so dire an error share.
Lo! while he toils the galling yoke beneath,
Foaming black blood, the bullock sinks in death:
The pensive hind the brother-steer relieves,
Who faithful for his lost companion grieves,
And the fix'd share amid the furrow leaves.
Mean time, nor grassy mead, nor lofty grove,
The mournful mate's afflicted mind can move:

329

Nor yet from rocks delicious streams that roll
As amber clear, can sooth his sorrowing soul:
His flanks flow loose; his eyes grow dim and dead;
And low to earth he hangs his heavy head.
Ah! what avails his ceaseless useful toil?
What boots it to have turn'd the stubborn soil?
Yet ne'er choice Massic wines debauch'd his taste,
Ne'er did he riot in the rich repast;
His food is leafy brouze, and nature's grass,
His draught fresh rills that thro' the meadows pass,
Or torrents rushing from the rocky steep;
Nor care disturbs his salutary sleep.
Then cars were drawn, while fail'd th'accustom'd kine,
By ill-pair'd buffaloes, to Juno's shrine.
And men with harrows toil'd to till the plain,
And with their nails dug in the golden grain;
The rattling waggon's galling yoke sustain'd,
And up the rocky steep laborious strain'd.
The wily wolf, no more by hunger bold,
With secret step explores the nightly fold.
Deers herd with hounds, and leave their sylvan seat,
And seek with man to find a safe retreat.
Thick on the shores, like shipwreck'd corses cast,
Appear the finny race of ocean vast;
Th'affrighted Phocae to the rivers haste.
His cave no more to shield the snake avails;
Th'astonish'd hydra dies, erecting all his scales.

331

Ev'n their own skies to birds unfaithful prove,
Headlong they fall, and leave their lives above.
Nor change of pasture could relief impart;
Destructive proves each vain attempt of art:
Chiron, Melampus healing herbs explore,
Fathers of sacred medicine, no more:
Tisiphone, from hell let loose to light,
Before her drives Diseases and Affright;
Still day by day more huge the fiend appears,
Till high to heav'n her horrid head she rears;
While lowings loud, and many a mournful bleat,
The withering banks and hanging hills repeat:
At length whole herds to death at once she sweeps;
High in the stalls she piles the loathsom heaps,
Dire spectacle! till sage experience found
To bury deep the carrion in the ground.
Useless their hides; nor from the flesh the flame
Could purge the filth, nor streams the savour tame.
Nor could their skins supply the fleecy store,
O'ergrown with scabs, and stiff with many a sore:
Wove from such fleeces those who wore a vest,
Were with foul sweats, and burning spots oppress'd,

333

Till thro' the limbs diffus'd, th'insatiate flame
With dire contagious touch consum'd th'infected frame.
The End of the Third Georgic.
 

Ver. 1. Thy praise propitious Pales.] This is the book which appears to me the most charming of all the Georgics. Mr. Addison's favourite is the fourth, which indeed is more sweet and elegant, but the beauties of this are more great and sublime. He invokes Pales as the goddess of shepherds, and Apollo who fed the herds of king Admetus on the banks of the river Amphrysus.

5. Familiar are the songs.] Virgil here strongly ridicules the trite and fabulous subjects of the Grecian poets. 'Tis ingeniously conjectured by Fulvius Ursinus, that he alludes to particular authors who had treated of the fabulous stories he mentions. Thus Homer has related the fable of Eurystheus in the eighteenth Iliad. Athenaeus quotes the Busiris of Mnesimachus in his ninth book. Theocritus and Apollonius relate the story of Hylas and Hercules his grief for his loss. Callimachus is referred to in Latonia Delos, and the first Olympic ode of Pindar is to be understood by the mention of Hippodamia and Pelops. He breaks out at last into a noble triumph of assurance, that he shall rival these Greek poets:

Tentanda via est, qua me quoque possim
Tollere humo, victorque virum volitare per ora.

Mr. Pope used to say, that this triumph of Virgil over the Greek poets, was one of the vainest things that ever was writ.

17. These hands.] Mr. Hurd in his notes on Horace's Epistle to Augustus, hath discoursed so entertainingly on the introductory lines of this third book, that it was thought proper to insert the following extract from that judicious work.

On the idea of the Apotheosis, which was the usual mode of flattery in the Augustan age, but, as having the countenance of public authority, sometimes inartificially enough employed, Virgil hath projected one of the noblest allegories in ancient poetry, and at the same time hath given to it all the force of just compliment, the occasion itself allowed. Each of these excellencies was to be expected from his talents. For as his genius led him to the sublime; so his exquisite judgment would instruct him to palliate this bold fiction, and qualify as much as possible, the shocking adulation, implied in it. So singular a beauty deserves to be shewn at large.

The third Georgic sets out with an apology for the low and simple argument of that work, which yet the poet esteemed, for its novelty, preferable to the sublimer, but trite, themes of the Greek writers. Not but he intended, on some future occasion, to adorn a nobler subject. This was the great plan of the Aeneis, which he now prefigures and unfolds at large. For, taking advantage of the noblest privilege of his art, he breaks away, in a fit of prophetic enthusiasm, to predict his successes in this projected enterprize, and, under the imagery of the antient triumph, which comprehends, or suggests to the imagination, whatever is most august in human affairs, to delineate the future glories of this ambitious design. The whole conception, as we shall see, is of the utmost grandeur and magnificence; tho', according to the usual management of the poet (which as not being apprehended by his critics, hath furnished occasion even to the best of them, to charge him with a want of the sublime) he hath contrived to soften and familiarize its appearance to the reader, by the artful manner, in which it is introduced. It stands thus:

tentanda via est, qua me quoque possim
Tollere humo, victorque virum volitare per ora.

The idea of victory, thus casually dropped, he makes the basis of his imagery; which, by means of this gradual preparation, offers itself easily to the apprehension, though it thereby loses, as the poet designed it should, much of that broad glare, in which writers of less judgment love to shew their ideas, as tending to set the common reader at a gaze. The allegory then proceeds:

Primus ego in patriam mecum (modo vita supersit)
Aonio rediens deducam vertice Musas.

The projected conquest was no less than that of all the Grecian Muses at once; whom, to carry on the decorum of the allegory, he threatens, 1. to force from their high and advantageous situation on the summit of the Aonian Mount; and 2. to bring captive with him into Italy; the former circumstance intimating to us the difficulty and danger of the enterprize; and the latter, his complete execution of it.

The palmy, triumphal entry, which was usual to victors on their return from foreign successes, follows:

Primus Idumaeas referam tibi, Mantua, palmas.

But ancient conquerors did not hold it sufficient to reap this transient fruit of their labours. They were ambitious to consecrate their glory to immortality, by a temple, or other public monument, which was to be built out of the spoils of the conquered cities or countries. This the reader sees is suitable to the idea of the great work proposed; which was, out of the old remains of Grecian art, to compose a new one, that should comprize the virtues of all of them: as, in fact, the Aeneid is known to unite in itself whatever is most excellent not in Homer only, but, universally, in the wits of Greece. The everlasting monument of the marble temple is then reared:

Et viridi in campo templum de marmore ponam.

And, because ancient superstition usually preferred, for these purposes, the banks of rivers to other situations, therefore the poet, in beautiful allusion to the site of some of the most celebrated pagan temples, builds his on the Mincius. We see with what a scrupulous propriety the allusion is carried on.

Propter aquam, tardis ingens ubi flexibus errat
Mincius, et tenera praetexit arundine ripas.

Next, this temple was to be dedicated, as a monument of the victor's piety, as well as glory, to some propitious, tutelary deity, under whose auspices the great adventure had been atchieved. The dedication is then made to the poet's divinity, Augustus:

In medio mihi Caesar erit, templumque tenebit.

Templum tenebit. The expression is emphatical; as intimating to us, and prefiguring the secret purpose of the Aeneis, which was, in the person of Aeneas, to shadow forth and consecrate the character of Augustus. His divinity was to fill and occupy that great work. And the ample circuit and magnificence of the epic plan was projected only, as a more awful enclosure of that august presence, which was to inhabit and solemnize the vast round of this poetic building.

And now the wonderful address of the poet's artifice appears. The mad servility of his country had deified the emperor in good earnest: and his brother poets made no scruple to worship in his temples, and to come before him with handfuls of real incense, smoking from the altars. But the sobriety of Virgil's adoration was of another cast. He seizes this circumstance only to embody a poetical fiction; which, on the supposition of an actual deification, hath all the force of compliment, which the fact implies, and yet, as presented through the chaste veil of allegory, eludes the monstrous offence, which the naked recital must needs have given to decency and common sense. Had the emperor's popular divinity been flatly acknowledged, and adored, the praise, even under Virgil's management, had been insufferable for its extravagance; and without some support for his poetical numen to rest upon, the figure had been more forced and strained, than the rules of just writing allow. As it is, the historical truth of his apotheosis authorizes and supports the fiction, and the fiction in its turn, serves to refine and palliate the history.

The Aeneis being, by the poet's improvement of this circumstance, thus naturally predicted under the image of a temple, we may expect to find a close and studied analogy betwixt them. The great, component parts of the one, will no doubt, be made, very faithfully, to represent and adumbrate those of the other. This hath been executed with great art and diligence.

1. The temple, we observed, was erected on the banks of a river. This site was not only proper for the reason already mentioned, but also, for the further convenience of instituting public games, the ordinary attendants of the consecration of temples. These were generally, as in the case of the Olympic and others, celebrated on the banks of rivers.

Illi victor ego, et Tyrio conspectus in ostro,
Centum quadrijugos agitabo ad flumina currus.
Cuncta mihi, Alpheum linquens lucosque Molorchi,
Cursibus et crudo decern et Graecia caestu.

To see the propriety of the figure in this place, the reader needs only be reminded of the book of games in the Aeneid, which was purposely introduced in honour of the emperor, and not, as is commonly thought, for a mere trial of skill between the poet and his master. The emperor was passionately fond of these sports, and was even the author, or restorer of one of them. It is not to be doubted, that he alludes also to the quinquennial games, actually celebrated, in honour of his temples, through many parts of the empire. And this the poet undertakes in the civil office of victor.

2. What follows is in the religious office of priest. For it is to be noted, that, in assuming this double character, which the decorum of the solemnities, here recounted, prescribed, the poet has an eye to the political design of the Aeneis, which was to do honour to Caesar, in either capacity of a civil and religious personage; both being essential to the idea of the perfect legislator, he was to adorn and recommend. The account of his sacerdotal functions is delivered in these words:

Ipse caput tonsae foliis ornatus olivae
Dona feram. Jam nunc solemnes ducere pompas
Ad delubra juvat, caesosque videre juvencos;
Vel scena ut versis discedat frontibus, utque
Purpurea intexti tollant aulaea Britanni.

The imagery in this place cannot be understood, without reflecting on the customary form and disposition of the pagan temples. Delubrum, or Delubra, for either number is used indifferently, denotes the shrine, or sanctuary, wherein the statue of the presiding God was placed. This was in the center of the building. Exactly before the delubrum, and at no great distance from it, was the altar. Further, the the shrine, or delubrum, was inclosed, and shut up on all sides by doors of curious carved work, and ductile veils, embellish'd by the rich embroidery of flowers, animals, or human figures. This being observed, the progress of the imagery before us will be this. The procession ad delubra, or shrine: the sacrifice on the altars, erected before it: and, lastly, the painted, or rather wrought scenery of the purple veils, inclosing the image, which were ornamented, and seemed to be sustained or held up by the figures of inwoven Britons. The meaning of all which, is, that the poet would proceed to the celebration of Caesar's praise in all the gradual, solemn preparation of poetic pomp: that he would render the most grateful offerings to his divinity in those occasional episodes, which he should consecrate to his more immediate honour: and finally, that he would provide the richest texture of his fancy, for a covering to that admired image of his virtues, which was to make the sovereign pride and glory of his poem. The choice of the inwoven Britons, for the support of his veil, is well accounted for by those, who tell us, that Augustus was proud to have a number of these to serve about him in quality of slaves.

The ornaments of the doors of this delubrum, on which the sculptor used to lavish all the riches of his art, are next delineated.

In foribus pugnam ex auro solidoque elephanto
Gangaridum faciam, victorisque arma Quirini;
Atquo hic undantem bello, magnumque fluentem
Nilum, ac navali surgentes aere columnas.
Addam urbes Asiae domitas, pulsumque Niphaten,
Fidentemque fuga Parthum versisque sagittis;
Et duo rapta manu diverso ex hoste trophaea,
Bisque triumphatas utroque ex littore gentes.

Here the covering of the figure is too thin to hide the literal meaning from the commonest reader, who sees, that the several triumphs of Caesar, here recorded in sculpture, are those, which the poet hath taken so much pains to finish, and hath occasionally inserted, as it were, in miniature, in several places of his poem. Let him only turn to the prophetic speech of Anchises' shade in the VIth, and to the description of the shield in the VIIIth book.

Hitherto we have contemplated the decorations of the shrine, i. e. such as bear a more direct and immediate reference to the honour of Caesar. We are now presented with a view of the remoter, surrounding ornaments of the temple. These are the illustrious Trojan chiefs, whose story was to furnish the materials, or, more properly, to form the body and case, as it were, of this august structure. They are also connected with the idol deity of the place by the closest ties of relationship, the Julian family affecting to derive its pedigree from this proud original. The poet then, in his arrangement of these additional figures, with admirable judgment, completes and rounds the entire fiction.

Stabunt & Parii lapides, spirantia signa,
Assaraci proles, demissaeque ab Jove gentis
Nomina: Trosque parens & Trojae Cynthius auctor.

Nothing now remains but for fame to eternize the glories of what the great architect had, at the expence of so much art and labour, completed; which is predicted, in the highest sublime of ancient poetry, under the idea of envy, whom the poet personalizes, shuddering at the view of such transcendent perfection; and tasting, beforehand, the pains of a remediless vexation, strongly pictured in the image of the worst, infernal tortures.

Invidia infelix furias amnemque severum
Cocyti metuet, tortosque Ixionis angues,
Immanemque rotam, & non exuperabile saxum.

Thus have I presumed, but with a religious awe, to inspect and declare the mysteries of this ideal temple. The attempt after all might have been censured, as prophane, if the great Mystagogue himself, or some body for him , had not given us the undoubted key to it. Under this encouragement I could not withstand the temptation of disclosing thus much of one of the noblest fictions of antiquity; and the rather, as the propriety of allegoric composition, which made the distinguished pride of ancient poetry, seems but little known or attended to by the modern professors of this fine art.

In these lines,

Mox tamen ardentes accingar dicere pugnas
Caesaris, & nomen fama tot ferre per annos,
Tithoni prima quot abest ab origine Caesar. Which I suspect not to have been from the hand of Virgil. And,
1. On account of some peculiarities in the expression.

Accingar is of frequent use in the best authors, to denote a readiness and resolution to do any thing; but as joined with an infinitive mood, accingar dicere, I do not remember to have ever seen it. 'Tis often used by Virgil, but, if the several places be consulted, it will always be found with an accusative and preposition, expressed or understood, as magicas accingier artes, or with an accusative and dative, as accingere se praedae, or lastly with an ablative, expressing the instrument, as accingor ferro. La Cerda, in his notes upon the place, seemed sensible of the objection, and therefore wrote, Graeca locutio: the common, but paltry, shift of learned critics, when they determine, at any rate, to support an ancient reading.

2. Ardentes pugnas, burning battles, sounds well enough to a modern ear, but I much doubt, if it would have passed in the times of Virgil. At least, I recollect no such expression in all his works; ardens being constantly joined to a word, denoting a substance of apparent light, heat, or flame, to which the allusion is easy, as ardentes gladios, ardentes oculos, campos armis sublimibus ardentes, and by an easy metaphor, ardentes hostes, but no where, that I can find, to so abstract a notion, as that of fight. It seems to be to avoid this difficulty, that some have chosen to read ardentis, in the genitive, which yet Servius rejects as of no authority. 3. But the most glaring note of illegitimacy is in the line,

Tithoni prima quot abest ab origine Caesar.

It has puzzled all the commentators from old Servius down to Mr. Martyn, to give any tolerable account of the poet's choice of Tithonus, from whom to derive the ancestry of Augustus, rather than Anchises, or Assaracus, who were not only more famous, but in the direct line. The pretences of any or all of them are too frivolous to make it necessary to spend a thought about them. The instance stands single in antiquity; much less is there any thing like it to be found in the Augustan poets.

II. But the phraseology of these lines is the least of my objection. Were it ever so accurate, there is, besides, on the first view, a manifest absurdity in the subject-matter of them. For would any writer, of but common skill in the art of composition, close a long and elaborate allegory, the principal grace of which consists in its very mystery, with a cold, and formal explanation of it? Or would he pay so poor a compliment to his patron, as to suppose his sagacity wanted the assistance of this additional triplet to lead him into the true meaning? Nothing can be more abhorrent from the usual address and artifice of Virgil's manner. Or,

III. Were the subject-matter itself passable, yet, how, in defiance of all the laws of disposition, came it to be forced in here? Let the reader turn to the passage, and he will soon perceive, that this could never be the place for it. The allegory being concluded, the poet returns to his subject, which is proposed in the six following lines:

Interea Dryadum sylvas, saltusque sequamur
Intactos, tua, Maecenas, haud mollia jussa;
Te sine nil altum mens inchoat: en age segnes
Rumpe moras: vocat ingenti clamore Cithaeron,
Taygetique canes, domitrixque Epidaurus equorum,
Et vox assensu nemorum ingeminata remugit.

Would now any one expect, that the poet, after having conducted the reader thus respectfully, to the very threshold of his subject, should immediately run away again to the point, from which he had set out, and this on so needless an errand, as the letting him into the secret of his allegory?

But this inserted triplet agrees as ill with what follows, as with what precedes it. For how abrupt is the transition, and unlike the delicate connection, so studiously contriv'd by the Augustan poets, from

Tithoni prima quot abest ab origine Caesar.

to

Seu quis Olympiacae miratur praemia palmae, &c.

When omit but these interpolated lines, and see how gracefully, and by how natural a succession of ideas, the poet slides into the main of his subject.—

Interea Dryadum sylvas saltusque sequamur
Intactos ------
Te sine nil ------
Rumpe moras: vocat ingenti clamore Cithaeron
Taygetique canes, domitrixqne Epidaurus equorum,
Et vox assensu nemorum ingeminata remugit.
Seu quis Olympiacae miratus praemia palmae
Pascit equos; seu quis fortes ad aratra juvencos:

On the whole, I have not the least doubt, that the lines before us are the spurious offspring of some later poet; if indeed the writer of them deserve that name; for, whoever he was, he is so far from partaking of the original spirit of Virgil, that at most, he appears to have been but a servile and paltry mimic of Ovid; from the opening of whose Metamorphosis the design was clearly taken. The turn of the thought is evidently the same in both, and even the expression. Mutatas dicere formas is echoed by ardentes dicere pugnas: dicere fert animus, is, by an affected improvement, accingar dicere: and Tithoni prima ab origine is almost literally the same as primaque ab origine mundi. For the insertion of these lines in this place, I leave it to the curious to conjecture of it, as they may; but in the mean time, must esteem the office of the true critic to be so far resembling that of the poet himself, as within some proper limitations, to justify the honest liberty here taken.

Cum tabulis animum censoris sumet honesti;
Audebit quaecunque parum splendoris habebunt
Et sine pondere erunt, & honore indigna feruntur,
Verba movere loco; quamvis invita recedant,
Et versenter adhuc intra penetralia Vestae.
[2 Ep. ii. 110.]

19. Spreading wide his ling'ring waters.] This description of the Mincio is, as exact as possible; the force of it lies chiefly in the epithets, tardis, ingens—the wide spreading and almost stagnation of the river, which forms the lake of Mantua.

35. I see the turning scene.] The commentators seem not sufficiently to have explained the expression of, ut versis discedat frontibus in the original. The ancient scenes were painted on a triangular machine, mark'd in the plate, D; which was so formed as to turn upon an axle or pin; each of its three sides, mark'd in the ground-plan of the plate, 1. 2. 3. represented a different subject; viz. 1. a city. 2. a palace or magnificent portico. 3. a wild forest, cave, or meadow. When a comedy was play'd, the first of these three frontispieces was turned towards the spectators; when a tragedy, the second; when a satyrical piece (such, for instance, as the Cyclops of Euripides) the third was exposed to view. And these triangular machines were placed under the arches of the theatre, marked in the plate, A, B, C. See Vitruvius B. 5. and L'Antiquite expliqueè, par D. Ber. Montfaucon, tom. 3. p. 235.

38. High on the gates.] These beautiful verses, containing an allegory of his design to publish the Aeneid in honour of Augustus, must have been added in the year of Rome 734, after Augustus had subdued the Indians and Parthians, and recovered the eagles which had been lost by Crassus. The invidia infelix points at those persons, which must have been many, that secretly repined at the imperial dignity of Augustus. Let me add the following passage from Polymetis.

“The persons he is speaking of are the enemies of the Julian family: or the faction, as he calls it, against the Caesars. These, he says, should be represented on the temple he would build to Augustus, as in the tortures of Tartarus; and more particularly as punished in the same manner as Ixion and Sisyphus. Ixion was punished there for his ingratitude and impiety: Sisyphus as a villain and a robber. So that this is calling all the party against Augustus, rascals and ingrates; and infers the highest compliment to that prince, at the same time that it is the most cruel of invectives against his enemies.

Polymetis, pag. 208.

96. The days of youth.] This tender moral reflection thrown in, diversifies and exalts the low subject the poet is treating of.

108. Ev'n now the colt.] Having spoken of the marks of good cows, the poet proceeds to speak of horses, and gives a beautiful description of a colt that is fit to be chosen for a stallion. There is some difficulty concerning the meaning of spadices: but after much enquiry Dr. Martyn thinks it is, the colour we call bay, chesnut, or sorrel.

116. Grey.] Glaucus, when spoken of the colour of an horse, signifies a dark or iron-grey; our people in Wales, still call a grey horse kephal glauce. Holdsworth.

119. Restless he paws.] This is a beautiful description of a mettlesome horse; but it is far excelled by that noble one in the book of Job. Particularly, “He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage, neither believeth he (for joy!) that it is the sound of the trumpet,” is more spirited and strong than any circumstance in Virgil's picture.

132. Such Saturn.] Saturn, to avoid being discovered by his wife Ops while he was engaged with Phylyra his mistress, turned himself into a beautiful horse. Chiron the famous centaur was the son of this nymph Phylyra.

148. Dost thou not see.] No description was ever more spirited and lively than this of the chariot race. The poet has crowded into a few lines all the circumstances that are most striking in the famous description of Homer, and it must be owned has here excelled the Greek poet. One may say, as Longinus does on almost a similar occasion, that the soul of the reader is, as it were, mounted in the chariot, and whirled along in the race with it.

160. Erichthonius.] Bigas primum junxit Phrygum natio, quadrigas Erichthonius. Pliny. He likewise says, that Bellerophon invented the backing of horses, Pelethronius bridles and furniture, and the centaurs of Thessaly the fighting on horseback.

163. Form his pliant feet.] There are several lines in this third Georgic, which shew that the manége was found out much earlier than some would imagine. Witness the following passage,

Gyrosque dedere
Impositi dorso.

And that other,

Carpere mox gyrum incipiat, &c.

The simile just after was meant to shew, a violently swift, but at the same time a level and uniform motion.

Holdsworth.

170. Without these virtues.] I received the following observations on this passage from a very ingenious gentleman.

I have always been absolutely at a loss to make out the connection of these three lines [in the original] with the foregoing. Translators and commentators make quamvis refer to something which is certainly not expressed there, nor I think implied, or insinuated; nor indeed consistent with what is there expressed. How can the horse be supposed, saepae versos hostes egisse, if he was not calidus animis? Quamvis implies an opposition between these two, whereas no two things can be more naturally connected. You have got over the difficulty as well as your neighbours, but I think it is insuperable, as the text now stands. Besides, quamvis implies that the horse above described was rejected, not that he was sought out, and chosen. In short I am persuaded, these three lines are not in their right place Suppose them placed as follows;

Hunc quoque, ubi aut morbo gravis, aut jam segnior annis
Deficit, abde domo; nec turpi ignosce senectae.
Quamvis saepe fugâ versos ille egerit hostes,
Et patriam Epirum referat, fortesque Mycenas,
Neptunique ipsa deducat origine gentem.
Frigidus in venerem senior ------

Hunc quoque—abde domo—quamvis—Observe that the horses here above mentioned are war-horses; Pollux', Mars' and Achilles' his horses; qui versos hostes egerint; now see how well the other passage goes on without the lines in question.

Aequus uterque labor, aequi juvenemque magistri
Exquirunt, calidumque animis, et cursibus acrem.
His animadversis ------
Nimirum, juventute, animis, pernicitate ------

By way of precedent, there are two remarkable transpositions of this kind in the Aeneid, which the critics have rectified against all authority of manuscripts—Aeneid 6. 745. Donec longa dies—and the two next lines, which should follow, after exuritur igni.

Aeneid 10. 717. Ille autem impavidus—and the next, which should come after clamoribus instant.

176. With genial herbs.] Varro and Columella speak of the necessity of feeding the bulls amply for two months before the time. Tauros duobus mensibus ante admissuram herbâ, et paleâ et focno facio pleniores et a faeminis secerno. Varro.

182. New desires.] Voluptas nota in the original, does not signify the experienced pleasure, says Dr. Martyn, but the desire which now first begins to be known by the young mare. Jam nota, just now (and not before) known.

203 Asilus.] This insect is a dreadful plague to the cows of Italy. An Italian writer quoted by Dr. Martyn informs us, that it resembles a wasp, has two membraneous wings, with which it makes a most horrible whizzing. The belly is terminated by three long rings, one within another, from the last of which proceeds a formidable sting. This sting is composed of a tube thro' which the egg is emitted, and two augres, which make way for the tube to penetrate into the skin of the cattle. These augres are armed with little knives which prick with their points, and cut with their edges, causing intolerable pain to the wounded animal.

226. Correction bear.] Mr. Dryden talks here of sending the calf to school, restraining him from the bad examples of the world, and instructing him in moral precepts. Virgil says only, ad studium et usum agrestem dum faciles animi.

263. Like Boreas.] It cannot be imagined, by the severest critics, who think such beauties of style in the ancients chimerical, that Virgil did not intend to represent by this swift line of dactyles the course of the wind.

Ille volat, simul arva fuga, simul aequora verrens.

270. Elean plain.] This alludes to the Olympic games celebrated about Olympia in the region of Elis. Whoever would have a just notion of the great political usefulness of these celebrated games of Greece, will meet with much pleasure and instruction from the learned and ingenious Mr. West's dissertation prefixed to his translation of an author, to whom he alone, of all the moderns, has done justice, in a spirited and elegant translation of his odes. See Mr. West's Pindar.

285. The mighty rivals.] The description of the bulls contending for the female is admirable; particularly, that fine circumstance of the vanquish'd bull looking back on his old accustomed stall and pastures when he is forced to retreat. And still more so, the circumstance of his lying down, sullenly disconsolate, on the stones, feeding upon rushes and prickly leaves, and exercising his horns against the trunks of trees, to enable himself to contend again with his hated rival. All these beautiful strokes are concluded by the noble simile of a vast wave rolling towards a rocky shore. The pause at procumbit

Monte minor procumbit,

is very expressive of the thing intended.

332. How fares the youth.] The poet alludes to the celebrated story of Hero and Leander, perhaps the most entertaining of all the ancient love-tales; the Musaeus who has written an elegant poem on this subject, was not the ancient Musaeus; for several false conceits and thoughts, rather pretty than solid, and contrary to the simplicity of the older Grecian writers, evidently betray the later age of the piece. 'Tis observable Virgil hints, that the whole species would encounter the same dangers as Leander did for the sake of love.

357. Hippomanes.] The hippomanes signifies two things. 1. A certain liquor that flows from a mare ready to take horse. 2. An excrescence of flesh which the new foaled colts have upon their foreheads. It is black, round, and of the bigness of a dried fig. It is pretended that these two hippomanes's have a peculiar virtue in philtres, and other such compositions designed for fascinations. And that the last is of such a nature, that a mare has no sooner dropped her colt, but she eats this piece of flesh, without which she would not suckle it. A curious reader may see a learned dissertation on this subject at the end of Mr. Bayle's Dictionary.

371. Where never poet.] This is an imitation of Lucretius:

Nec me axïmum fallit quam sint obscura, sed acre
Percussit thyrso laudis spes magna meum cor ------
------ juvat integros accedere fontes
Atque, haurire, juvatque novos decergere flores,
Unde prius nulli velerint tempora musae.

372. Pales.] The third is the most epic of all the Georgics; and the introduction to it, as well as several passages in it, particularly this, shew that Virgil regarded it as such himself. Holdsworth.

391. Tents.] Varro speaking of the usefulness of goats, says, they are shorn for the use of sailors and war.

404. The freshness of the morning is painted in the liveliest colours.

407. Shrill cicada's lay.] Several of the modern Italian poets mention the singing of the cicada, as very loud and troublesome in the great heats of summer. Per gli ombrosi rami le argute cicale cantando si affatica vano sotto al gran caldo. Arcadia del Sannazaro, Prosa 10.

412. Or where.] How beautifully has the poet enlivened these dry precepts concerning the time of watering cattle by this description of a little landscape! of a vast old oak standing in a valley, or an ilex or ever-green oak, spreading a thick and solemn shade! The description of the cool of the evening is delightful,

------ saltus reficit jam roscida luna,
Litoraqut halcyonen resonant, et acanthida dumi.

412. Ilex-forest dark and deep.] We have not a full idea of this image, from our not knowing of how deep a green the ilex is, and what a vast shade it casts in Italy, where there are great numbers of this tree.

422. By day.] Thi digression to the shepherds of Africa cannot be sufficiently praised—one sees them

Pasturing on from verdant stage to stage.
Thomson, Cast. of Ind.

The vastness of those plains are represented by the very flow of this line,

------ itque pecus longa in deserta sine ullis
Hospitiis ------ tantum campi jacet.

428. So Rome's.] The Roman soldiers were wont to carry in their campaigns, not only their swords, helmets and shields, but likewise provisions for a fortnight, and stakes and utensils.

432. Not so.] The contrast is very strong between the scenes of Africa and Scythia, and has a fine effect. This variety, this magic art of conveying the reader from one climate to another, constitutes one of the greatest beauties of poetry.

M. de Maup rtuis, who, with some other academicians, was sent by the king of France, in 1736, to measure a degree of the meridian, under the arctic circle, says, that brandy was the only liquor, which could be kept sufficiently fluid for them to drink: Pendant un froid si grand, que la langue et les levres se geloient sur le champ, contre le tasse, &c. And a little afterwards he tells us, that the spirits of wine froze in their thermometers. See Dr. Martyn for other instances.

442. Or when he climbs.] This winter-piece has ever been admired as one of the capital paintings of Virgil. Mr. Thomson has given us a noble imitation of it, in his view of winter within the polar circle; and has added some striking circumstances, not to be found in Virgil, which modern travellers have observed. I cannot forbear transcribing his conclusion, where he describes winter personally. The image is very sublime.

“Here Winter holds his unrejoycing court,
“And thro' his airy hall the loud misrule
“Of driving tempest is for ever heard;
“Here the grim tyrant meditates his wrath,
“Here arms his winds with all-subduing frost;
“Moulds his fierce hail, and treasures up his snows,
“With which he now oppresses half the globe.”

478. Tho' white thy ram.] If the tongue of the ram be black or speckled, (says Varro) the lambs will be of the same colour. See Aristotle of animals, to the same purpose.

497. Nor mean the toil] The poet says but little concerning the care and breeding of dogs, or of hunting. Mr. Somerville, in his poem entituled the Chace, one of the best productions of this age, has in some measure supplied the defect.

513. The viper too.] Dr. Martyn thinks the serpent here described to be that which Pliny calls boas. This author affirms they grew to a prodigious bigness, and that a child was found in the belly of one of them in the reign of Claudius: that they feed on cow's milk, whence they have their name. The line a little below

Cape saxa manû, cape robora pastor,

is exactly expressive of hurry and eagerness: there are no particles in it; so in the fourth Aeneid,

Ferte citi flammas, date tela, impellite flammas

523. Calabria's forests.] The poet here speaks of another serpent called chersydrus, from its living both in water, and on earth.

539. Brandishes.] Micare in its true and natural signification relates to any quick motion. So Virgil, micat auribus; and Cicero, digitis micare; of that old game so common in Italy of darting out their fingers, and guessing at the number of these darted out each time, so often mentioned by others of the Roman writers. Holdsworth.

542. Scabs oft the flock.] Columella remarks, that a sheep as soon as it is sheared, should be anointed with a mixture of the juice of lupines, the lees of old wine, and the dregs of oil, in equal quantities; and be washed four days afterwards in the sea, or in rain water salted; and quotes the authority of Celsus, who affirms that a sheep treated after this manner, will be free from the scab a whole year, and that the wool will be the softer, and the longer for it. See Dr. Martyn on the place.

567. And fierce Gelonian] Several northern nations at this time drink mare's milk mixed with blood. Pliny says, they mixed millet with it.

579. This truth to know.] The sense is, if any one knows what sort of places these were, when they were full of cattle, he may now see them empty, tho' it is a long time since the pestilence. Servius.

580. The pastures where Timavus'.] Timavus is a river of Carniola.

581. And Noric cliffs.] Noricum was a region of Germany bordering on the Alps.

585. Here sprung of old.] We now enter upon the celebrated description of the plague. Virgil puts forth all his strength to endeavour to excel Lucretius's sixth book on the plague at Athens. Neither can I think he has so far excelled his master (for such he was) as some critics imagine. Many hints in this description are borrowed from Thucydides his famous account of the plague at Athens. See Dr. Martyn for a full and particular account of this pestilence.

607. The victor horse.] Infelix studiorum in the original is an expression resembling laeta laborum, victus animi, fortunatus laborum. Read the description of these symptoms from this line to fauces premit aspera lingua: see how nobly the poet acquits himself on a subject, so exceeding difficult to be described, and let us compare it with a singularly fine one in Lucretius of the same kind:

Perturbata animi mens in moerore metuque;
Triste supercilium, furiosus vultus, & acer,
Sollicitae porro, plenaeque sonoribus aures:
Creber spiritus, aut ingens, raroque coörtus,
Tenuia sputa, minuta, croci contincta colore,
Salsaque per fauces raucas vix edita tussi.

628. The bullock sinks.] How exquisitely beautiful is the pause in this verse at the word gemitus! it tristis arator, by the very melancholy flow of the words places the action of the ploughman full in our sight: the next line proceeds as slow as possible, consisting of all spondees,

Moerentem abjungens fraterna morte juvencum.

The circumstance of the brother heifer grieving is most tenderly imagined. Non umbrae altorum nemorum is an imitation of Lucretius, where the dam is lamenting her calf that was sacrificed;

Nec tenerae salices, atque herbae rore vigentes,
Fluminaqne ulla queunt summis labentia ripis
Oblectare animum, subitamque avertere curam.

It was upon reading these exquisite lines, that Scaliger declared, he had rather have been the author of them, than to have been the first favourite of Craesus or Cyrus. I wish there was no sentiment in Scaliger's works more extravagant than this.

652. The wily wolf.] Observe these circumstances of the wolves prowling no more, because acrior illum cura domat, and the deer wandering near the dwellings of men.

656. On the shores.] Virgil, 'tis observed, expressly contradicts Aristotle, who asserts, that pestilential diseases never affect fishes.

660. Th'astonish'd hydra.] I know not a stronger image in any poet whatever, than this of the serpents dying with their scales erect and stiffened: attoniti (which is a most expressive word in this place) squamis astantibus hydri!

The poet brings into his subject the inhabitants of every element, making as it were all nature affected with this dreadful plague.

665. Chiron, Melampus.]The poet does not mean that the plague happened in the days of Chiron and Melampus, but that the very best physicians acknowledged their skill useless in this case. Particulars are named for generals. Lucretius speaks personally of the art of physic, which has a fine effect.

------ Mussabat tacito Medicina timore.

667. Tisiphone from hell.] The figure of Tisiphone driving before her a train of diseases and fear, is nobly conceived. It puts one in mind of that exalted image in Habakuk, where the prophet speaking of Jehovah in his wrath, says, “Before him went the pestilence.” The circumstance of the fury Tisiphone's growing every day larger and larger, is truly admirable, as it so justly alludes to the daily increase of the pestilence. This is the beauty of an allegory, to have it supported by truth.

672. The withering banks] What can be more pathetic than the circumstance of the hills perpetually echoing with the mournful bleatings of the sheep, &c.

683. Th'insatiate flame.] Some imagine that by sacer ignis an erysipelas or St. Anthony's fire may be meant.

But perhaps sacer may mean accursed, or direfulauri sacra fames—sacer esto.