A collection of original poems and translations :: :: University of Virginia Library

THYRSIS.
Sweet is the Musick of yon lofty Pine
Amidst the Fountains; nor less sweet is thine;
Melodious Shepherd, when soft pleasing Strains
Flow from thy Pipe, and charm the list'ning Plains.
Pan ever foremost of the tuneful Band;
The second Seat unrivall'd you command.
If Pan the He goat claims, superior Bard,
To thee the Female falls a just Reward;
If to the God this latter Choice belong,
The luscious Kid crowns thy triumphant Song.

SHEPHERD.
Soft as the sound when murm'ring Waters glide,
Descending thro' the Mountains craggy Side,

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Is thy sweet Accent; if the sacred Nine
Claim the first Honours of the fleecy Kine,
The Lamb for thee, sports in the flow'ry Meads,
And to thy Glory a just Victim bleeds.

THYRSIS.
Say, wilt thou sit and tune thy mellow Reed,
Amidst these Bushes while thy Flock I feed?

SHEPHERD.
Alas! we fear great Pan, who now retreats,
Fatigu'd with early sports from Noon-tide Heats.
Then solemn Silence rules thro' all the Plains,
Or hasty Vengeance seeks the guilty Swains.
But thou expert in ev'ry Rural Muse,
Recline with me beneath these shady Boughs,
In this cool Arbour Daphnis' Fate bewail,
For well thou know'st the melancholy Tale;
And if such pleasing Notes flow from thy Tongue
As when with Libyan Chromius late you sung,

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This milky Mother of two Kids shall pay
The grateful Tribute of thy tuneful Lay.
A two-ear'd Cup besides compact and grand
Fresh smelling from the skilful Artist's Hand;
Around its Lips the circling Ivy strays,
And a young Kid in wanton Gambols plays,
Within a Virgin's heav'nly Form embost,
Her mantle gently by the Winds is tost;
Just by two comely Swains in youthful Life
For her contending in alternate Strife.
To both her Smiles the sportive Damsel lends
And now to Damon, now to Strephon tends,
To neither kind; she unrelenting hears,
Their fruitless Plaints, and sees them bath'd in Tears.
Not far from hence a rugged Rock ascends,
On it a hoary Fisher lab'ring bends,
Dragging his heavy Net along the briny Sands.
Each swelling Muscle speaks the hardy Toil,
And in his Veins the vig'rous Fluids boil.

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Near this old Sire shoots forth a purple Vine,
Luxuriant Grapes on loaded Branches shine;
A Boy to watch the golden Fruit is set,
While two sagacious Foxes ling'ring wait;
One thro' the cluster'd Rows with Silence creeps,
Nibling the Tendrils t'other slyly peeps,
Into the well-fill'd Pouch; the wily Beast,
Grins at the prospect of a future Feast.
The heedless Keeper, he takes no Alarm,
Nor loss of Breakfast fears, nor other Harm;
But fix'd on other Work in haste prepares
For chirping Grashoppers insidious Snares;
The soft Acanthus circling spreads the Whole,
And all astonish'd view the perfect Bowl;
For this a She-Goat in exchange I paid,
A Cheese besides of Creams delicious made;
Untouch'd, unsully'd this shall crown thy Pains,
This Price I pledge for thy harmonious Strains.
Come on; I envy not thy pleasing Art
Death to thy Muse a Silence must impart.

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THYRSIS.

Begin, Sicilian Muses, lead the Song;
This Thyrsis sings, one of your tuneful Throng.
Where were ye all, ye Nymphs, when Daphnis dy'd,
Were ye to Peneus' flow'ry Borders hi'd,
Or Pindus' Shades? For Acis winding Brim,
Nor Ætna saw ye, nor Ænapus' Stream.
The savage Crouds were heard lamenting there,
The Wolf, the Lion dropt for once a Tear,
The milky Kine, the Bull's majestic Low,
The Calves and Heifers testify'd their Woe.
First Maia's Son thro' Grief the Mountain quits,
And asks why Daphnis thus desponding sits;
The Shepherds, Herdsmen came, and ev'ry Swain
With Pity seeks the Cause of all his Pain.
Next comes Priapus with sarcastic Jest,
Why pines my Daphnis? prithee take thy Rest.

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The Nympth grows kind, and trips it in the Grove,
And seeks in haste her fond deluded Love.
Unhappy, simple—Shepherd once you wrote,
Now rather Watchman of the lustful Goat,
He ne'er beholds his Herds in wanton Toy,
But burns for Envy of the luscious joy.
Nor can he now amongst the Nymphs resort,
But soon grows pale, and pines for am'rous Sport.
The lovesick Shepherd makes to none Replies,
Takes no Relief, and wastes away in Sighs.
Then smiling thither comes the Cyprian Queen,
Inwardly pleas'd but with affected Spleen;
The Shepherd this that spurn'd the Pow'rs above,
And vainly thought to bend the Queen of Love!
How is he fall'n? Then Daphnis thus rejoin'd,
Ah Venus, cruel Empress of Mankind,

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Flee from a Dying Swain to Ida's Grove;
There please thy Fancy and indulge thy Love;
Here humble Willows can but faintly meet,
There Oaks for Pastime form a safe Retreat;
There call to mind Anchises' youthful Arms,
And sweet Adonis in his blooming Charms,
A vig'rous Youth, and fond the Scent to trace
With early hunt, and swift pursue the Chace;
Go boast to Tydeus' Son a Shepherd slain,
And boldly dare him to the Fight again.

Adieu, ye Wolves, no longer Daphnis roves,
Amid your humble Shrubs, or stately Groves.
Adieu, ye Streams, and Arethusa's Tide,
That into Thymbris' gentle Current glide.
Oft to your Beds I drove my thirsty Herd,
Oft on your flow'ry Beds my Fatlings rear'd.

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Thou God, that o'er Lycœus tak'st thy Flight,
Or if Mænalian Hills can more delight,
Quit for a while, the venerable Tomb
Of great Lycaon's Son, and deign to come
Into these Groves: this well tun'd Pipe, O Pan,
Accept th' Oblation of a dying Swain.

On Brakes let Purple Violets be born,
And fair Narcissus flourish on the Thorn,
Let Nature be revers'd when Daphnis dies,
Loaded with Pears let bending Pine Trees rise,
Let fearful Stags pursue the greedy Hound,
And Owls with Nightingales contend in sound.

Here dropt the Shepherd, nor was heard again,
Venus wou'd raise him, but alas! in vain,

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The fatal Sisters cut the Vital Thread,
And to the Shades the Ghost of Daphnis fled;
Daphnis, a fav'rite of the Aonian Train,
And to the fairest Nymphs the dearest Swain.