CXVII
THE FOURTH PASTORAL
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.
Sicilian Muses! yet a higher Strain,
Let's sing mean Shrubs and Bushes on the Plain,
Delight not all; arise, and try to prove
The Woods deserving of a Consul's Love.
Now! now! the last auspicious Times behold,
By the Cumean's sacred Verse foretold,
A glorious Race of Ages is begun,
And now springs forth successively to run;
The Virgin now returns, and Saturn's reign
Is to the joyful World restor'd again.
See a new gracious Progeny descends
From the high Heavens! at whose appearance ends
This Iron Age, and a new golden Race,
With ev'ry Virtue crown'd, assumes its Place.
Oh chast Lucina! speed the glorious Birth,
For now thy own Apollo reigns on Earth.
And thou transcendant Infant! shall be born
In Pollio's Rule! his Consulship adorn!
Thence shall the wond'rous Time its Date begin,
And thou our Guide, if of our former Sin
Some Print remains, they shall be ras'd by thee,
And Earth from Dread of future Guilt set free.
He shall a God's exalted Life receive,
And like the Gods and mingled Heroes live,
Viewing and view'd by each, and Man's vile Race,
Shall sway and alter with Paternal Grace.
Thou Child! when born from the neglected Earth
Choice Herbs and Flowers shall derive their Birth,
With voluntary speed, She-Goats shall come,
Their Udders stretch'd with Milk undriven home,
And wand'ring Herds (no careful Keepers near)
Securely feed, nor the grown Lions fear.
To thee the Field its blooming useful Store
Shall offer, baneful Herbs shall be no more,
No more the lurking fiery Serpent's Sting
Shall sudden and severe Destruction bring,
In common Ways Assyrian Sweets shall spring;
But when advanc'd in Years, thyself shall read
Of Heroes Fame, and each paternal Deed,
Extracting thence their Virtue's hopeful Seed,
By soft Degrees the yellow-waving Corn
Arising, shall th' extended Plains adorn;
On Hedges purple Grapes in Clusters grow,
And from hard Oaks delicious Honey flow.
Yet still of ancient Fraud there shall remain
Some Signs, and bold and greedy Men for Gain
Shall tempt the Billows of the raging Main.
Cities shall be with Walls begirt around,
And the sharp Plough in Furrows tear the Ground.
Another vent'rous T[iphy]s shall appear,
An Argo its elected Heroes bear,
New Wars and Sieges shall Mankind annoy,
And great Achilles shall again to Troy.
But when at full-grown Manhood thou shall be,
The most successful shall renounce the Sea,
The Ships shall sail for mutual Wares no more,
But all things shall abound on ev'ry Shore,
No Plough shall vex the Ground, nor Hook the Vine,
The lab'ring Cattle shall the Yoke decline,
Nor more forc'd painful Servitude shall know,
Nor Wool its various Dyes dissembling show;
But lordly Rams shall in the flow'ry Mead
In Robes of native Purple proudly tread,
And sweat beneath unborrow'd State, the Lamb
Shall gaily prancing to its bleating Dam,
Repair in Crimson that the lib'ral Field
To grace the Wanton shall unsought for yield.
The Parcæ shall with joynt Consent agree
To keep thy Ages Thread from Mixture free,
And when they have the happy Clue begun,
Shall bid it smoothly and securely run.
Advance! advance! thy Time is now at hand,
Receive thy Honours and supream Command,
Thou precious Offspring of the Gods above!
Thou bless'd and vast Munificence of Jove!
Behold the World by sinful Weight oppress'd,
Inclines to yield; Earth, Sea, and Heav'n distress'd,
Require thy Help: Lo! Nature lifts her Voice,
And all things at th' approaching Age rejoyce!
Oh wou'd my Life endure; cou'd I but raise
My Skill to suit thy Due, thy lofty Praise;
Tho' Thracian Orpheus did with me contend,
Not Thracian Orpheus shou'd in Verse transcend,
Nor Linus in sublimer Raptures fly,
Tho' each had his Illustrious Parent by,
Orpheus Caliope to grace his Song,
Linus Apollo ever fair and young!
Shou'd Pan ev'n in Arcadia vye with me,
Ev'n in Arcadia Pan shou'd vanquish'd be!
Begin, oh little Boy! with Smiles to know
Thy Mother; this small Recompence bestow
On her, who has ten tedious Months so late,
With nauseous Ilness born thy growing weight.
Begin, oh little Boy! with gracious Mind,
Who smile not on their Parents ne'er shall find
A courteous God at Board, in Bed, a Goddess kind.
