The Works of Virgil (Dryden)/Georgics (Dryden)/Book 4

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Illustration of Georgic 4, line 1, "The Gifts of Heav'n my foll'wing Song pursues"
Illustration of Georgic 4, line 1, "The Gifts of Heav'n my foll'wing Song pursues"



The Fourth Book of the

GEORGICS.

The ARGUMENT.

Virgil has taken care to raise the Subject of each Georgic: In the First he has only dead Matter on which to work. In the second he just steps on the World of Life, and describes that degree of it which is to be found in Vegetables. In the third he advances to Animals. And in the last, singles out the Bee, which may be reckon'd the most sagacious of 'em, for his Subject.

In this Georgic he shews us what Station is most proper for the Bees, and when they begin to gather Honey: how to call 'em home when they swarm; and how to part 'em when they are engag'd in Battel. From hence he takes occasion to discover their different Kinds; and, after an Excursion relates their prudent and politick Administration of Affairs and the several Diseases that often rage in their Hives, with the proper Symptoms and Remedies of each Disease. In the last place he lays down a method of repairing their Kind, supposing their whole Breed lost; and gives at large the History of its Invention.

THE Gifts of Heav'n my foll'wing Song pursues,
Aerial Honey, and Ambrosial Dews.
Mæcenas, read this other part, that sings
Embattel'd Sqadrons and advent'rous Kings:
A mighty Pomp, tho' made of little Things.5

Their Arms, their Arts, their Manners I disclose,
And how they War, and whence the People rose:
Slight is the Subject, but the Praise not small,
If Heav'n assist, and Phœbus hear my Call.

First, for thy Bees a quiet Station find,10
And lodge 'em under Covert of the Wind:
For Winds, when homeward they return, will drive
The loaded Carriers from their Ev'ning Hive.
Far from the Cows and Goats insulting Crew,14
That trample down the Flow'rs, and brush the Dew:
The painted Lizard, and the Birds of Prey,
Foes of the frugal Kind, be far away.
The Titmouse, and the Peckers hungry Brood,
And Progne, with her Bosom stain'd in Blood:
These rob the trading Citizens, and bear20
The trembling Captives thro' the liquid Air;
And for their callow young a cruel Feast prepare.
But near a living Stream their Mansion place,
Edg'd round with Moss, and tufts of matted Grass:
And plant (the Winds impetuous rage to stop,)25
Wild Olive Trees, or Palms, before the buisie Shop:
That when the youthful Prince, with loud allarm,
Calls out the vent'rous Colony to swarm;
When first their way thro' yielding Air they wing,
New to the Pleasures of their native Spring;30
The Banks of Brooks may make a cool retreat
For the raw Souldiers from the scalding Heat:

And neighb'ring Trees, with friendly Shade invite
The Troops unus'd to long laborious Flight.
Then o'er the running Stream, or standing Lake,35
A Passage for thy weary People make;
With Osier Floats the standing Water strow;
Of massy Stones make Bridges, if it flow:
That basking in the Sun thy Bees may lye,
And resting there, their flaggy Pinions dry:40
When late returning home, the laden Host,
By raging Winds is wreck'd upon the Coast.
Wild Thyme and Sav'ry set around their Cell,
Sweet to the taste, and fragrant to the Smell:
Set rows of Rosemary with flow'ring Stem,45
And let the purple Vi'lets drink the Stream.
Whether thou build the Palace of thy Bees
With twisted Osiers, or with Barks of Trees;
Make but a narrow Mouth: for as the Cold
Congeals into a Lump the liquid Gold;50
So tis again dissolv'd by Summer's heat,
And the sweet Labours both Extreams defeat.
And therefore, not in vain, th' industrious Kind
With dawby Wax and Flow'rs the Chinks have lin'd.
And, with their Stores of gather'd Glue, contrive55
To stop the Vents, and Crannies of their Hive.
Not Birdlime, or Idean Pitch produce
A more tenacious Mass of clammy Juice.
Nor Bees are lodg'd in Hives alone, but found
In Chambers of their own, beneath the Ground:60

Their vaulted Roofs are hung in Pumices,
And in the rotten Trunks of hollow Trees.
But plaister thou the chinky Hives with Clay,
And leafy Branches o'er their Lodgings lay.
Nor place them where too deep a Water flows,65
Or where the Yeugh their pois'nous Neighbour grows:
Nor rost red Crabs t'offend the niceness of their Nose.
Nor near the steaming Stench of muddy Ground;
Nor hollow Rocks that render back the Sound,
And doubled Images of Voice rebound.70
For what remains, when Golden Suns appear,
And under Earth have driv'n the Winter Year:
The winged Nation wanders thro' the Skies,
And o'er the Plains, and shady Forrest flies:
Then stooping on the Meads and leafy Bow'rs;75
They skim the Floods, and sip the purple Flow'rs.
Exhalted hence, and drunk with secret Joy,
Their young Succession all their Cares employ:
They breed, they brood, instruct and educate,
And make Provision for the future State:80
They work their waxen Lodgings in their Hives,
And labour Honey to sustain their Lives.
But when thou seest a swarming Cloud arise,
That sweeps aloft, and darkens all the Skies:84
The Motions of their hasty Flight attend;
And know to Floods, or Woods, their airy march they bend.

Illustration of Georgic 4, line 85, "The Motions of their hasty Flight attend"
Illustration of Georgic 4, line 85, "The Motions of their hasty Flight attend"

Then Melfoil beat, and Honey-suckles pound,
With these alluring Savours strew the Ground;
And mix with tinkling Brass, the Cymbals droning Sound.
Streight to their ancient Cells, recall'd from Air,90
The reconcil'd Deserters will repair.
But if intestine Broils allarm the Hive,
(For two Pretenders oft for Empire strive)
The Vulgar in divided Factions jar;
And murm'ring Sounds proclaim the Civil War.95
Inflam'd with Ire, and trembling with Disdain,
Scarce can their Limbs, their mighty Souls contain.
With Shouts, the Cowards Courage they excite,
And martial Clangors call 'em out to fight:
With hoarse Allarms the hollow Camp rebounds,100
That imitates the Trumpets angry Sounds:
Then to their common Standard they repair;
The nimble Horsemen scour the Fields of Air.
In form of Battel drawn, they issue forth,
And ev'ry Knight is proud to prove his Worth.105
Prest for their Country's Honour, and their King's,
On their sharp Beaks they whet their pointed Stings;
And exercise their Arms, and tremble with their Wings.
Full in the midst, the haughty Monarchs ride,
The trusty Guards come up, and close the Side;110
With Shouts the daring Foe to Battel is defy'd.
Thus in the Season of unclouded Spring,
To War they follow their undaunted King:

Crowd thro' their Gates, and in the Fields of Light,
The shocking Squadrons meet in mortal Fight:115
Headlong they fall from high, and wounded wound,
And heaps of slaughter'd Soldiers bite the Ground.
Hard Hailstones lye not thicker on the Plain;
Nor shaken Oaks such Show'rs of Acorns rain.
With gorgeous Wings the Marks of Sov'raign sway,
The two contending Princes make their way;121
Intrepid thro' the midst of danger go;
Their Friends encourage, and amaze the Foe.
With mighty Souls in narrow Bodies prest,
They challenge, and encounter Breast to Breast;125
So fix'd on Fame, unknowing how to fly,
And obstinately bent to win or dye;
That long the doubtful Combat they maintain,
Till one prevails (for one can only Reign.)
Yet all those dreadful deeds, this deadly fray,130
A cast of scatter'd Dust will soon alay;
And undecided leave the Fortune of the day.
When both the Chiefs are sund'red from the Fight,
Then to the lawful King restore his Right.
And let the wastful Prodigal be slain,135
That he, who best deserves, alone may reign.
With ease distinguish'd is the Regal Race,
One Monarch wears an honest open Face;
Shap'd to his Size,, and Godlike to behold,
His Royal Body shines with specks of Gold,140

And ruddy Skales; for Empire he design'd,
Is better born, and of a Nobler Kind.
That other looks like Nature in disgrace,
Gaunt are his sides, and sullen is his face: 144
And like their grizly Prince appears his gloomy Race:
Grim, ghastly, rugged, like a thirsty train
That long have travell'd through a desart plain,
And spet from their dry Chaps the gather'd dust again.
The better Brood, unlike the Bastard Crew,
Are mark'd with Royal streaks of shining hue; 150
Glitt'ring and ardent, though in Body less:
From these at pointed Seasons hope to press
Huge heavy Honey-Combs, of Golden Juice,
Not only sweet, but pure, and fit for use:
T'allay the Strength and Hardness of the Wine, 155
And with old Bacchus, new Metheglin join.
But when the Swarms are eager of their play,
And loath their empty Hives, and idly stray,
Restrain the wanton Fugitives, and take
A timely Care to bring the Truants back. 160
The Task is easie: but to clip the Wings
Of their high-flying Arbitrary Kings:
At their Command, the People swarm away;
Confine the Tyrant, and the Slaves will stay.
Sweet Gardens, full of Saffron Flow'rs, invite 165
The wandring Gluttons, and retard their Flight.
Besides, the God obscene, who frights away,
With his Lath Sword, the Thiefs and Birds of Prey.

With his own hand, the Guardian of the Bees, 169
For Slips of Pines, may search the Mountain Trees:
And with wild Thyme and Sav'ry, plant the Plain,
Till his hard horny Fingers ake with Pain:
And deck with fruitful Trees the Fields around,
And with refreshing Waters drench the Ground.
Now, did I not so near my Labours end, 175
Strike Sail, and hast'ning to the Harbour tend;
My Song to Flow'ry Gardens might extend.
To teach the vegetable Arts, to sing
The Pæstan Roses, and their double Spring:
How Succ'ry drinks the running Streams, and how 180
Green Beds of Parsley near the River grow;
How Cucumers along the Surface creep,
With crooked Bodies, and with Bellies deep.
The late Narcissus, and the winding Trail
Of Bears-foot, Myrtles green, and Ivy pale. 185
For where with stately Tow'rs Tarentum stands,
And deep Galesus soaks the yellow Sands,
I chanc'd an Old Corycian Swain to know,
Lord of few Acres, and those barren too;
Unfit for Sheep or Vines, and more unfit to sow: 190
Yet lab'ring well his little Spot of Ground,
Some scatt'ring Potherbs here and there he found:
Which cultivated with his daily Care,
And bruis'd with Vervain, were his frugal Fare.
Sometimes white Lyllies did their Leaves afford, 195
With wholsom Poppy-flow'rs, to mend his homely Board:

For late returning home he sup'd at ease,
And wisely deem'd the Wealth of Monarchs less:
The little of his own, because his own, did please.
To quit his Care, he gather'd first of all200
In Spring the Roses, Apples in the Fall:
And when cold Winter split the Rocks in twain,
And Ice the running Rivers did restrain,
He strip'd the Bears-foot of its leafy growth;204
And, calling Western Winds, accus'd the Spring of sloath.
He therefore first among the Swains was found,
To reap the Product of his labour'd Ground,
And squeese the Combs with Golden Liquor Crown'd.
His Limes were first in Flow'rs, his lofty Pines,
With friendly Shade, secur'd his tender Vines.210
For ev'ry Bloom his Trees in Spring afford,
An Autumn Apple was by tale restor'd.
He knew to rank his Elms in even rows;
For Fruit the grafted Peartree to dispose:
And tame to Plums, the sourness of the Sloes.215
With spreading Planes he made a cool retreat,
To shade good Fellows from the Summer's heat.
But streighten'd in my space, I must forsake
This Task; for others afterwards to take.
Describe we next the Nature of the Bees,220
bestow'd by Jove for secret Services:
When by the tinkling Sound of Timbrels led,
The King of Heav'n in Cretan Caves they fed.

Of all the Race of Animals, alone
The Bees have common Cities of their own:225
And common Sons, beneath one Law they live,
And with one common Stock their Traffick drive.
Each has a certain home, a sev'ral Stall:
All is the States, the State provides for all.
Mindful of coming Cold, they share the Pain:230
And hoard, for Winter's use, the Summer's gain.
Some o'er the Publick Magazines preside,
And some are sent new forrage to provide:
These drudge in Fields abroad, and those at home
Lay deep Foundations for the labour'd Comb,235
With dew, Narcissus Leaves, and clammy Gum.
To pitch the waxen Flooring some contrive:
Some nurse the future Nation of the Hive:
Sweet Honey some condense, some purge the Grout;
The rest, in Cells apart, the liquid Nectar shut.240
All, with united Force, combine to drive
The lazy Drones from the laborious Hive.
With Envy stung, they view each others Deeds:
With Diligence the fragrant Work proceeds.
As when the Cyclops, at th' Almighty Nod,245
New Thunder hasten for their angry God:
Subdu'd in Fire the Stubborn Mettal lyes,
One brawny Smith the puffing Bellows plyes;
And draws, and blows reciprocating Air:
Others to quench the hissing Mass prepare:250

With lifted Arms they order ev'ry Blow,
And chime their sounding Hammers in a Row;
With labour'd Anvils Ætna groans below.
Strongly they strike, huge Flakes of Flames expire,
With Tongs they turn the Steel, and vex it in the Fire.
If little things with great we may compare,256
Such are the Bees, and such their buisie Care:
Studious of Honey, each in his Degree,
The youthful Swain, the grave experienc'd Bee:
That in the Field; this in Affairs of State,260
Employ'd at home, abides within the Gate:
To fortify the Combs, to build the Wall,
To prop the Ruins lest the Fabrick fall:
But late at Night, with weary Pinions come
The labr'ring Youth, and heavy laden home.265
Plains, Meads, and Orchards all the day he plies,
The gleans of yellow Thime distend his Thighs:
He spoils the Saffron Flow'rs, he sips the blues
Of Vi'lets, wilding Blooms, and Willow Dews.
Their Toil is common, common is their Sleep;270
They shake their Wings when Morn begins to peep;
Rush through the City Gates without delay,
Nor ends their Work, but with declining Day:
Then having spent the last remains of Light,
They give their Bodies due repose at Night:275
When hollow Murmurs of their Ev'ning Bells,
Dismiss the sleepy Swains, and toll 'em to their Cells.

When once in Beds their weary Limbs they steep,
No buzzing Sounds disturb thir Golden Sleep.
Tis sacred Silence all. Nor dare they stray,280
When Rain is promis'd, or a stormy Day:
But near the City Walls their Watring take,
Nor Forrage far, but short Excursions make.
And as when empty Barks on Billows float,
With sandy Ballast Sailors trim the Boat;285
So Bees bear Gravel Stones, whose poising Weight
Steers thro' the whistling Winds their steddy Flight.
But what's more strange, their modest Appetites,
Averse from Venus, fly the Nuptial Rites.
No lust enervates their Heroic Mind,290
Nor wasts their Strength on wanton Woman-Kind.
But in their Mouths reside their Genial Pow'rs,
They gather Children from the Leaves and Flow'rs.
Thus make they Kings to fill the Regal Seat;
And thus their little Citizens create:295
And waxen Cities build, and Palaces of State.
And oft on Rocks their tender Wings they tear,
And sink beneath the Burthens which they bear.
Such Rage of Honey in their Bosom beats:
And such a Zeal they have for flow'ry Sweets.300
Thus tho' the race of Life they quickly run;
Which in the space of seven short Years is done,
Th' immortal Line in sure Succession reigns,
The Fortune of the Family remains:
And Grandsires Grandsons the long List contains.305

Besides, not Egypt, India, Media more
With servile Awe, their Idol King adore:
While he survives, in Concord and Content
The Commons live, by no Divisions rent;
But the great Monarch's Death dissolves the Government.
All goes to Ruin, they themselves contrive311
To rob the Honey, and subvert the Hive.
The King presides, his Subjects Toil surveys;
The servile Rout their careful Cæsar praise:
Him they extol, they worship him alone,315
They crowd his Levees, and support his Throne:
They raise him on their shoulders with a Shout:
And when their Sov'raign's Quarrel calls 'em out,
His Foes to mortal Combat they defie,
And think it honour at his feet to die.320
Induc'd by such Examples, some have taught
That Bees have Portions of Etherial Thought:
Endu'd with Particles of Heavenly Fires:
For God the whole created Mass inspires;324
Thro' Heav'n, and Earth, and Oceans depth he throws
His Influence round, and kindles as he goes.
Hence Flocks, and Herds, and Men, and Beasts, and Fowls
With Breath are quicken'd; and attract their Souls.
Hence take the Forms his Prescience did ordain,
And into him at length resolve again.330
No room is left for Death, they mount the Sky,
And to their own congenial Planets fly.

Now when thou hast decreed to seize their Stores,
And by Prerogative to break their Doors:
With sprinkl'd Water first the City choak,335
And then pursue the Citizens with Smoak.
Two Honey Harvests fall in ev'ry Year:
First, when the pleasing Pleiades appear,
And springing upward spurn the briny Seas:
Again, when their affrighted Quire surveys340
The watry Scorpion mend his Pace behind,
With a black Train of Storms, and Winter Wind,
They plunge into the Deep, and safe Protection find.
Prone to Revenge, the Bees, a wrathful Race,
When once provok'd assault th' Agressor's Face:345
And through the purple Veins a passage find;
There fix their Stings, and leave their Souls behind.
But if a pinching Winter thou foresee,
And would'st preserve thy famish'd Family;
With fragant Thyme the City fumigate,350
And break the waxen Walls to save the State.
For lurking Lizards often lodge, by Stealth,
Within the Suburbs, and purloin their Wealth.
And Lizards shunning Light, a dark Retreat
Have found in Combs, and undermin'd the Seat.355
Or lazy Drones, without their Share of Pain;
In Winter Quarters free, devour the Gain:
Or Wasps infest the Camp with loud Alarms,
And mix in Battel with unequal Arms:

Or secret Moaths are there in Silence fed;360
Or Spiders in the Vault, their snary Webs have spred.
The more oppress'd by Foes, or Famine pin'd;
The more increase thy Care to save the sinking Kind.
With Greens and Flow'rs recruit their empty Hives,
And seek fresh Forrage to sustain their Lives.365
But since they share with Man one common Fate,
In Health and Sickness, and in Turns of State;
Observe the Symptoms when they fall away,
And languish with insensible Decay.
They change their Hue, with hagger'd Eyes they stare,
Lean are their Looks, and shagged is their Hair:371
And Crowds of dead, that never must return
To their lov'd Hives, in decent Pomp are born:
Their Friends attend the Herse, the next Relations Mourn.
The sick, for Air before the Portal gasp,375
Their feeble Legs within each other clasp.
Or idle in their empty Hives remain,
Benum'd with Cold, and listless of their Gain.
Soft Whispers then, and broken Sounds are heard,
As when the Woods by gentle Winds are stir'd.380
Such stifled noise as the close Furnace hides,
Or dying Murmurs of departing Tides.
This when thou seest, Galbanean Odours use,
And Honey in the sickly Hive infuse.
Thro' reeden Pipes convey the Golden Flood,385
T'invite the People to their wonted Food.

Mix it with thicken'd Juice of sodden Wines,
And Raisins from the Grapes of Psythian Vines:
To these add pounded Galls, and Roses dry,
And with Cecropian Thyme, strong scented Centaury.390
A Flow'r there is that grows in Meadow Ground,
Amellus call'd, and easy to be found;
For from one Root the rising Stem bestows
A Wood of Leaves, and vi'let-purple Boughs:
The Flow'r it self is glorious to behold,395
And shines on Altars like refulgent Gold:
Sharpe to the Taste, by Shepherds near the Stream
Of Mella found, and thence they gave the Name.
Boyl this restoring Root in gen'rous Wine,
And set beside the Door, the sickly Stock to dine.400
But if the lab'ring Kind be wholly lost,
And not to be retriev'd with Care or Cost;
Tis time to touch the Precepts of an Art,
Th' Arcadian Master did of old impart:
And how he stock'd his empty Hives again;405
Renew'd with putrid Gore of Oxen slain.
An ancient Legend I prepare to sing,
And upward follow Fame's immortal Spring.
For where with sev'n-fold Horns mysterious Nile
Surrounds the Skirts of Egypt's fruitful Isle,410
And where in Pomp the Sun-burnt People ride
On painted Barges, o'er the teeming Tide,
Which pouring down from Ethiopian Lands,
Makes green the Soil with Slime, and black prolific Sands;

That length of Region, and large Tract of Ground,415
In this one Art a sure relief have found.
First, in a place, by Nature close, they build
A narrow Flooring, gutter'd, wall'd, and til'd.
In this, four Windows are contriv'd, that strike419
To the four Winds oppos'd, their Beams oblique.
A Steer of two Years old they take, whose Head
Now first with burnish'd Horns begins to spread:
They stop his Nostrils, while he strives in vain
To breath free Air, and struggles with his Pain.
Knock'd down, he dyes: his Bowels bruis'd within,
Betray no Wound on his unbroken Skin.426
Extended thus, in this obscene Abode,
They leave the Beast; but first sweet Flow'rs are strow'd
Beneath his Body, broken Boughs and Thyme,
And pleasing Cassia just renew'd in prime.430
This must be done, e'er Spring makes equal Day,
When Western Winds on curling Waters play:
E'er painted Meads produce their Flow'ry Crops,
Or Swallows twitter on the Chimney Tops.
The tainted Blood, in this close Prison pent,435
Begins to boyl and through the Bones ferment.
Then, wondrous to behold, new Creatures rise,
A moving Mass at first, and short of Thighs;
Till shooting out with Legs, and imp'd with Wings,
The Grubs proceed to Bees with pointed Stings:440
And more and more affecting Air, they try
Their tender Pinions, and begin to fly:

At length, like Summer Storms from spreading Clouds,
That burst at once, and pour impetuous Floods;
Or Flights of Arrows from the Parthian Bows,445
When from afar they gaul embattel'd Foes;
With such a Tempest thro' the Skies they Steer;
And such a form the winged Squadrons bear.
What God, O Muse! this useful Science taught?
Or by what Man's Experience was it brought?450
Sad Aristæus from fair Tempe fled,
His Bees with Famine, or Diseases dead:
On Peneus's Banks he stood, and near his holy Head.
And while his falling Tears the Stream supply'd,
Thus mourning, to his Mother Goddess cry'd.455
Mother Cyrene, Mother, whose abode
Is in the depth of this immortal Flood:
What boots it, that from Phœbus's Loyns I spring,
The third by him and thee, from Heav'ns high King?
O! Where is all thy boasted Pity gone,460
And Promise of the Skies to thy deluded Son?
Why didst thou me, unhappy me, create?
Odious to Gods, and born to bitter Fate.
Whom, scarce my Sheep, and scarce my painful Plough,
The needful Aids of Human Life allow;
So wretched is thy Son, so hard a Mother thou.466
Proceed, inhuman Parent in thy Scorn;
Root up my Trees, with Blites destroy my Corn;
My Vineyards Ruin, and my Sheepfolds burn.

Let loose thy Rage, let all thy Spite be shown,470
Since thus thou hate pursues the Praises of thy Son.
But from her Mossy Bow'r below the Ground,
His careful Mother heard the Plaintive sound;
Encompass'd with her Sea-green Sisters round.
One common Work they ply'd: their Distaffs full475
With carded Locks of blue Milesian Wool.
Spio with Drymo brown, and Xanthe fair,
And sweet Phyllodoce with long dishevel'd Hair:
Cydippe with Licorias, one a Maid,
And one that once had call'd Lucina's Aid.480
Clio and Beroe, from one Father both,
Both girt with Gold, and clad in particolour'd Cloth.
Opis the meek, and Deiopeia proud;
Nisæa softly, with Ligæa loud;
Thalia joyous, Ephyre the sad,485
And Arethusa once Diana's Maid,
But now, her Quiver left, to Love betray'd.
To these, Climene the sweet Theft declares,
Of Mars; and Vulcan's unavailing Cares:
And all the Rapes of Gods, and ev'ry Love,490
From antient Chaos down to youthful Jove.
Thus while she sings, the Sisters turn the Wheel,
Empty the wooly Rock, and fill the Reel.
A mournful Sound, agen the Mother hears;
Agen the mournful Sound invades the Sister's Ears:495
Starting at once from their green Seats, they rise;
Fear in their Heart, Amazement in their Eyes.

But Arethusa leaping from her Bed,
First lifts above the Waves her beauteous Head;
And, crying from afar, thus to Cyrene said.500
O Sister! not with causeless Fear possest,
No Stranger Voice disturbs thy tender Breast.
'Tis Aristæus, tis thy darling Son,
Who to his careless Mother makes his Moan.
Near his Paternal Stream he sadly stands,505
With down-cast Eyes, wet Cheeks, and folded Hands:
Upbraiding Heav'n from whence his Lineage came,
And cruel calls the Gods, and cruel thee, by Name.
Cyrene mov'd with Love, and seiz'd with Fear,
Cries out, conduct my Son, conduct him here:510
Tis lawful for the Youth, deriv'd from Gods,
To view the Secrets of our deep Abodes.
At once she wav'd her Hand on either side,
At once the Ranks of swelling Streams divide.
Two rising Heaps of liquid Crystal stand,515
And leave a Space betwixt, of empty Sand.
Thus safe receiv'd, the downward track he treads,
Which to his Mother's watry Palace leads.
With wond'ring Eyes he views the secret Store
Of Lakes, that pent in hollow Caverns, roar.520
He hears the crackling Sound of Coral Woods,
And sees the secret Source of subterranean Floods.
And where, distinguish'd in their sev'ral Cells,
The Fount of Phasis; and of Lycus dwells;

Illustration of Georgic 4, line 535, "Now to the Court arriv'd, th' admiring Son"
Illustration of Georgic 4, line 535, "Now to the Court arriv'd, th' admiring Son"

Where swift Enipeus in his Bed appears,525
And Tiber his Majestick Forehead rears.
Whence Anio flows, and Hypanis, profound,
Breaks through th' opposing Rocks with raging Sound.
Where Po first issues from his dark abodes,
And, awful in his Cradle, rules the Floods.530
Two Golden Horns on his large Front he wears,
And his grim Face a Bull's Resemblance bears.
With rapid Course he seeks the sacred Main,
And fattens, as he runs, the fruitful Plain.
Now to the Court arriv'd, th' admiring Son535
Beholds the vaulted Roofs of Pory Stone;
Now to his Mother Goddess tells his Grief,
Which she with Pity hears, and promises Relief.
Th' officious Nymphs, attending in a Ring,
With Waters drawn from their perpetual Spring,540
From earthly dregs his Body purifie,
And rub his Temples, with fine Towels, dry:
Then load the Tables with a lib'ral Feast,
And honour with full Bowls their friendly Guest.
The sacred Altars are involv'd in Smoak,545
And the bright Quire their kindred Gods invoke.
Two Bowls the Mother fills with Lydian Wine;
Then thus, Let these be pour'd, with Rites divine,
To the great Authors of our wat'ry Line.
To Father Ocean, this; and this, she said,550
Be to the Nymphs his sacred Sisters paid,
Who rule the wat'ry Plains, and hold the woodland Shade.

She sprinkl'd thrice, with Wine, the Vestal Fire,
Thrice to the vaulted Roof the Flames aspire.
Rais'd with so blest an Omen, she begun,555
With Words like these, to chear her drooping Son.
In the Carpathian Bottom makes abode
The Shepherd of the Seas, a Prophet and a God;
High o'er the Main in wat'ry Pomp he rides,
His azure Carr and finny Coursers guides:560
Proteus his Name: to his Pallenian Port,
I see from far the weary God resort.
Him, not alone, we River Gods adore,
But aged Nereus hearkens to his Lore.
With sure foresight, and with unerring Doom,565
He sees what is, and was, and is to come.
This Neptune gave him, when he gave to keep
His scaly Flocks, that graze the wat'ry deep.
Implore his Aid, for Proteus only knows
The secret Cause, and Cure of all thy Woes.570
But first the wily Wizard must be caught,
For unconstrain'd he nothing tells for naught;
Nor is with Pray'rs, or Bribes, or Flatt'ry bought.
Surprise him first, and with hard Fetters bind;
Then all his Frauds will vanish into Wind.575
I will my self conduct thee on thy Way,
When next the Southing Sun inflames the Day:
When the dry Herbage thirsts for Dews in vain,
And Sheep, in Shades, avoid the parching Plain.

Then will I lead thee to his secret Seat;580
When weary with his Toil, and scorch'd with Heat,
The wayward Sire frequents his cool Retreat.
His Eyes with heavy Slumber overcast;
With Force invade his Limbs, and bind him fast:
Thus surely bound, yet be not over bold,585
The slipp'ry God will try to loose his hold:
And various Forms assume, to cheat thy sight;
And with vain Images of Beasts affright.
With foamy Tusks he seems a bristly Boar,
Or imitates the Lion's angry Roar;590
Breaks out in crackling Flames to shun thy Snares,
Or Hiss a Dragon, or a Tyger stares:
Or with a Wile, thy Caution to betray,
In fleeting Streams attempts to slide away.
But thou, the more he varies Forms, beware595
To strain his Fetters with a stricter Care:
Till tiring all his Arts, he turns agen
To his true Shape, in which he first was seen.
This said, with Nectar she her Son anoints;
Infusing Vigour through his mortal Joints:600
Down from his Head the liquid Odours ran;
He breath'd of Heav'n, and look'd above a Man.
Within a Mountain's hollow Womb, there lyes
A large Recess, conceal'd from Human Eyes;604
Where heaps of Billows, driv'n by Wind and Tide,
In Form of War, their wat'ry Ranks divide;
And there, like Centries set, without the Mouth abide:

A Station safe for Ships, when Tempests roar,
A silent Harbour, and a cover'd Shoar.
Secure within resides the various God,610
And draws a Rock upon his dark Abode.
Hether with silent Steps, secure from Sight,
The Goddess guides her Son, and turns him from the Light:
Her self, involv'd in Clouds, precipitates her Flight.
Twas Noon; the sultry Dog-star from the Sky615
Scorch'd Indian Swains, the rivell'd Grass was dry;
The Sun with flaming Arrows pierc'd the Flood,
And, darting to the bottom, bak'd the Mud:
When weary Proteus, from the briny Waves,
Retir'd for Shelter to his wonted Caves:620
His finny Flocks about their Shepherd play,
And rowling round him, spirt the bitter Sea.
Unweildily they wallow first in Ooze,
Then in the shady Covert seek Repose.
Himself their Herdsman, on the middle Mount,625
Takes of his muster'd Flocks a just Account.
So, seated on a Rock, a Shepherd's Groom
Surveys his Ev'ning Flocks returning Home:
When lowing Calves, and bleating Lambs, from far,
Provoke the prouling Wolf to nightly War.630
Th' Occasion offers, and the Youth complies:
For scarce the weary God had clos'd his Eyes;
When rushing on, with shouts, he binds in Chains
The drowzy Prophet, and his Limbs constrains.

Illustration of Georgic 4, line 635, "He, not unmindful of his usual Art"
Illustration of Georgic 4, line 635, "He, not unmindful of his usual Art"

He, not unmindful of his usual Art,635
First in dissembled Fire attempts to part:
Then roaring Beasts, and running Streams he tryes,
And wearies all his Miracles of Lies:
But having shifted ev'ry Form to scape,
Convinc'd of Conquest, he resum'd his shape:640
And thus, at length, in human Accent spoke.
Audacious Youth, what madness cou'd provoke
A Mortal Man t' invade a sleeping God?
What Buis'ness brought thee to my dark abode?
To this, th' audacious Youth; Thou know'st full well
My Name, and Buis'ness, God, nor need I tell:646
No Man can Proteus cheat; but Proteus leave
Thy fraudful Arts, and do not thou deceive.
Foll'wing the Gods Command, I come t'implore
Thy Help, my perish'd People to restore.650
The Seer, who could not yet his Wrath asswage,
Rowl'd his green Eyes, that sparkl'd with his Rage;
And gnash'd his Teeth, and cry'd, No vulgar God
Pursues thy Crimes, nor with a Common Rod.
Thy great Misdeeds have met a due Reward,655
And Orpheus's dying Pray'rs at length are heard.
For Crimes, not his, the Lover lost his Life,
And at thy Hands requires his murther'd Wife:
Nor (if the Fates assist not) canst thou scape
The just Revenge of that intended Rape.660
To shun thy lawless Lust, the dying Bride,
Unwary, took along the River's side:

Nor, at her Heels perceiv'd the deadly Snake,
That kept the Bank, in Covert of the Brake.
But all her fellow Nymphs the Mountains tear665
With loud Laments, and break the yielding Air:
The Realms of Mars remurmur'd all around,
And Echoes to th' Athenian Shoars rebound.
Th' unhappy Husband, Husband now no more,669
Did on his tuneful Harp his Loss deplore,
And sought, his mournful Mind with Musick to restore.
On thee, dear Wife, in Desarts all alone,
He call'd, sigh'd, sung, his Griefs with Day begun,
Nor were they finish'd with the setting Sun.
Ev'n to the dark Dominions of the Night,675
He took his way, thro' Forrests void of Light:
And dar'd amidst the trembling Ghosts to sing,
And stood before th' inexorable King.
Th' Infernal Troops like passing Shadows glide,
And, list'ning, crowd the sweet Musician's side.680
Not flocks of Birds when driv'n by Storms, or Night,
Stretch to the Forest with so thick a flight.
Men, Matrons, Children, and th' unmarry'd Maid,
[1]The mighty Heroes more Majestic shade;684
And Youths on Fun'ral Piles before their Parents laid.
All these Cocytus bounds with squalid Reeds,
With Muddy Ditches, and with deadly Weeds:
And baleful Styx encompasses around,
With Nine slow circling Streams, th' unhappy ground.

Ev'n from the depths of Hell the Damn'd advance,
Th' Infernal Mansions nodding seem to dance;691
The gaping three-mouth'd Dog forgets to snarl,
The Furies harken, and their Snakes uncurl:
Ixion seems no more his Pains to feel,
But leans attentive on his standing Wheel.695
All Dangers past, at length the lovely Bride,
In safety goes, with her Melodious Guide;
Longing the common Light again to share,
And draw the vital breath of upper Air:
He first, and close behind him follow'd she,700
For such was Proserpine's severe Decree.
When strong Desires th' impatient Youth invade;
By little Caution and much love betray'd:
A fault which easy Pardon might receive,
Were Lovers Judges, or cou'd Hell forgive.705
For near the Confines of Etherial Light,
And longing for the glimm'ring of a sight,
Th' unwary Lover cast his Eyes behind,
Forgetful of the Law, nor Master of his Mind.
Straight all his Hopes exhal'd in empty Smoke;710
And his long Toils were forfeit for a Look.
Three flashes of blue Light'ning gave the sign
Of Cov'nants broke, three peals of Thunder join.
Then thus the Bride; What fury seiz'd on thee,
Unhappy Man! to lose thy self and Me?715
Dragg'd back again by cruel Destinies,
An Iron Slumber shuts my swimming Eyes.

And now farewel, involv'd in Shades of Night,
For ever I am ravish'd from thy sight.
In vain I reach my feeble hands, to join720
In sweet Embraces; ah! no longer thine!
She said, and from his Eyes the fleeting Fair
Retir'd like subtile Smoke dissolv'd in Air;
And left her hopeless Lover in despair.
In vain, with folding Arms, the Youth assay'd725
To stop her flight, and strain the flying Shade:
He prays, he raves, all Means in vain he tries,
With rage inflam'd, astonish'd with surprise;
But she return'd no more, to bless his longing Eyes.
Nor wou'd th' Infernal Ferry-Man once more730
Be brib'd, to waft him to the farther shore.
What shou'd He do, who twice had lost his Love?
What Notes invent, what new Petitions move?
Her Soul already was consign'd to Fate,
And shiv'ring in the leaky Sculler sate.735
For sev'n continu'd Months, if Fame say true,
The wretched Swain his Sorrows did renew;
By Strymon's freezing Streams he sate alone,
The Rocks were mov'd to pity with his moan:
Trees bent their heads to hear him sing his Wrongs,
Fierce Tygers couch'd around, and loll'd their fawning Tongues.741
So, close in Poplar Shades, her Children gone,
The Mother Nightingale laments alone:

Whose Nest some prying Churl had found, and thence,
By Stealth, convey'd th' unfeather'd Innocence.745
But she supplies the Night with mournful Strains,
And melancholy Musick fills the Plains.
Sad Orpheus thus his tedious Hours employs,
Averse from Venus, and from nuptial Joys.
Alone he tempts the frozen Floods, alone750
Th' unhappy Climes, where Spring was never known:
He mourn'd his wretched Wife, in vain restor'd,
And Pluto's unavailing Boon deplor'd.
The Thracian Matrons, who the Youth accus'd,
Of Love disdain'd, and Marriage Rites refus'd:755
With Furies, and Nocturnal Orgies fir'd,
At length, against his sacred Life conspir'd.
Whom ev'n the savage Beasts had spar'd, they kill'd,
And strew'd his mangl'd Limbs about the Field.
Then, when his Head, from his fair Shoulders torn,
Wash'd by the Waters, was on Hebrus born;760
Ev'n then his trembling Tongue invok'd his Bride;
With his last Voice, Eurydice, he cry'd,
Eurydice, the Rocks and River-banks reply'd.
This answer Proteus gave, nor more he said,765
But in the Billows plung'd his hoary Head;
And where he leap'd, the Waves in Circles widely spread.
The Nymph return'd, her drooping Son to chear,
And bade him banish his superfluous fear:769
For now, said she, the Cause is known, from whence
Thy Woe succeeded, and for what Offence:

The Nymphs, Companions of th'unhappy Maid,
This punishment upon thy Crimes have laid;
And sent a Plague among thy thriving Bees.775
With Vows and suppliant Pray'rs their Pow'rs appease:
The soft Napæan Race will soon repent
Their Anger, and remit the Punishment.
The secret in an easie Method lies;
Select four Brawny Bulls for Sacrifice,780
Which on Lycæus graze, without a Guide;
Add four fair Heifars yet in Yoke untry'd:
For these, four Altars in their Temple rear,
And then adore the Woodland Pow'rs with Pray'r.
From the slain Victims pour the streaming Blood,785
And leave their Bodies in the shady Wood:
Nine Mornings thence, Lethean Poppy bring,
T' appease the Manes of the Poets King:
And to propitiate his offended Bride,
A fatted Calf, and a black Ewe provide:790
This finish'd, to the former Woods repair.
His Mother's Precepts he performs with care;
The Temple visits, and adores with Pray'r.
Four Altars raises, from his Herd he culls,
For Slaughter, four the fairest of his Bulls;795
Four Heifars from his Female Store he took,
All fair, and all unknowing of the Yoke.
Nine Mornings thence, with Sacrifice and Pray'rs,
The Pow'rs aton'd, he to the Grove repairs.

Illustration of Georgic 4, line 795, "For Slaughter, four the fairest of his Bulls"
Illustration of Georgic 4, line 795, "For Slaughter, four the fairest of his Bulls"

Behold a Prodigy! for from within800
The broken Bowels, and the bloated Skin,
A buzzing noise of Bees their Ears alarms,
Straight issue thro' the Sides assembling Swarms:
Dark as a Cloud they make a wheeling Flight,
Then on a neighb'ring Tree, descending, light:805
Like a large Cluster of black Grapes they show,
And make a large dependance from the Bough.
Thus have I sung of Fields, and Flocks, and Trees,
And of the waxen Work of lab'ring Bees;
While mighty Cæsar, thund'ring from afar,810
Seeks on Euphrates Banks the Spoils of War:
With conqu'ring Arts asserts his Country's Cause,
With Arts of Peace the willing People draws:
On the glad Earth the Golden Age renews,
And his great Father's Path to Heav'n pursues.815
While I at Naples pass my peaceful Days,
Affecting Studies of less noisy Praise;
And bold, thro' Youth, beneath the Beechen Shade,
The Lays of Shepherds, and their Loves have plaid.

The End of the First Volume.


  1. This whole Line is taken from the Marquess of Normanby's Translation.