The Works of Virgil (Dryden)/Pastorals (Dryden)/Book 8

by Virgil

Illustration of Pastoral 8, "The mournful Muse of two despairing Swains"

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The Eighth Pastoral.

OR,

PHARMACEUTRIA.

The ARGUMENT.

This Pastoral contains the Songs of Damon and Alphesibœus. The first of 'em bewails the loss of his Mistress, and repines at the Success of his Rival Mopsus. The other repeats the Charms of some Enchantress, who endeavour'd by her Spells and Magic to make Daphnis in Love with her.

HE mournful Muse of two despairing Swains,
The Love rejected, and the Lovers' pains;
To which the salvage Linxes listning stood,
The Rivers stood on heaps, and stopp'd the running Flood,
The hungry Herd their needful Food refuse;5
Of two despairing Swains, I sing the mournful Muse.

Great Pollio, thou for whom thy Rome prepares
The ready Triumph of thy finish'd Wars,

Whither Timavus or th' Illirian Coast,
Whatever Land or Sea thy presence boast;10
Is there an hour in Fate reserv'd for me,
To Sing thy Deeds in Numbers worthy thee?
In numbers like to thine, cou'd I rehearse
Thy lofty Tragick Scenes, thy labour'd Verse;
The World another Sophocles in thee,15
Another Homer shou'd behold in me:
Amidst thy Laurels let this Ivy twine,
Thine was my earliest Muse; my latest shall be thine.

Scarce from our upper World the Shades withdrew;
Scarce were the Flocks refresh'd with Morning Dew,
When Damon stretch'd beneath an Olive Shade,$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$20
And wildly staring upwards, thus inveigh'd
Against the conscious Gods, and curs'd the cruel Maid.
Star of the Morning, why dost thou delay?
Come, Lucifer, drive on the lagging Day.25
While I my Nisa's perjur'd Faith deplore;
Witness ye Pow'rs, by whom she falsly swore!
The Gods, alas, are Witnesses in vain;$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
Yet shall my dying Breath to Heav'n complain.29
Begin with me, my Flute, the sweet Mænalian Strain.

The Pines of Mænalus, the vocal Grove,
Are ever full of Verse, and full of Love:

They hear the Hinds, they hear their God complain;$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
Who suffer'd not the Reeds to rise in vain:34
Begin with me, my Flute, the sweet Mænalian Strain.

Mopsus triumphs; he weds the willing Fair:
When such is Nisa's choice, what Lover can despair!
Now Griffons join with Mares; another Age
Shall see the Hound and Hind their Thirst asswage,
Promiscuous at the Spring: Prepare the Lights,40
O Mopsus! and perform the bridal Rites.
Scatter thy Nuts among the scrambling Boys:
Thine is the Night; and thine the Nuptial Joys.
For thee the Sun declines: O happy Swain!44
Begin with me, my Flute, the sweet Mænalian Strain.

O, Nisa! Justly to thy Choice condemn'd,
Whom hast thou taken, whom hast thou contemn'd!
For him, thou hast refus'd my browzing Herd,
Scorn'd my thick Eye-brows, and my shaggy Beard.
Unhappy Damon sighs, and sings in vain:$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$50
While Nisa thinks no God regards a Lover's pain.
Begin with me, my Flute, the sweet Mænalian Strain.

I view'd thee first; how fatal was the View!
And led thee where the ruddy Wildings grew,
High on the planted hedge, and wet with Morning Dew.
Then scarce the bending Branches I cou'd win;56
The callow Down began to cloath my Chin;

I saw, I perish'd; yet indulg'd my Pain:
Begin with me, my Flute, the sweet Mænalian Strain.

I know thee, Love; in Desarts thou wert bred;60
And at the Dugs of Salvage Tygers fed:
Alien of Birth, Usurper of the Plains:
Begin with me, my Flute, the sweet Mænalian Strains.

Relentless Love the cruel Mother led,
The Blood of her unhappy Babes to shed:65
Love lent the Sword; the Mother struck the blow;
Inhuman she; but more inhuman thou.
Alien of Birth, Usurper of the Plains:
Begin with me, my Flute, the sweet Mænalian Strains.

Old doting Nature change thy Course anew:70
And let the trembling Lamb the Wolf pursue:
Let Oaks now glitter with Hesperian Fruit,
And purple Daffodils from Alder shoot.
Fat Amber let the Tamarisk distil:
And hooting Owls contend with Swans in Skill.75
Hoarse Tity'rus strive with Orpheus in the Woods:
And challenge fam'd Arion on the Floods.
Or, oh! let Nature cease; and Chaos reign:
Begin with me, my Flute, the sweet Mænalian Strain.

Let Earth be Sea; and let the whelming Tide,80
The lifeless Limbs of luckless Damon hide:

Farewel, ye secret Woods, and shady Groves,
Haunts of my Youth, and conscious of my Loves!
From yon high Cliff I plunge into the Main;$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
Take the last Present of thy dying Swain:85
And cease, my silent Flute, the sweet Mænalian Strain.

Now take your Turns, ye Muses, to rehearse
His Friend's Complaints; and mighty Magick Verse.
Bring running Water; bind those Altars round
With Fillets; and with Vervain strow the Ground:
Make fat with Frankincense the sacred Fires;91
To re-inflame my Daphnis with Desires.
'Tis done, we want but Verse. Restore, my Charms,
My lingring Daphnis to my longing Arms.

Pale Phœbe, drawn by Verse from Heav'n descends:
And Circe chang'd with Charms Ulysses Friends.96
Verse breaks the Ground, and penetrates the Brake;
And in the winding Cavern splits the Snake.
Verse fires the frozen Veins: Restore, my Charms,
My lingring Daphnis to my longing Arms.100

Around his waxen Image, first I wind
Three woollen Fillets, of three Colours join'd:
Thrice bind about his thrice devoted head,
Which round the sacred Altar thrice is led.
Unequal Numbers please the Gods: my Charms,105
Restore my Daphnis to my longing Arms.

Knit with three knots, the Fillets, knit 'em streight;
And say, These Knots to Love I consecrate.
Haste, Amaryllis, haste; restore, my Charms,
My lovely Daphnis to my longing Arms.110

As Fire this Figure hardens, made of Clay;
And this of Wax with Fire consumes away;
Such let the Soul of cruel Daphnis be;
Hard to the rest of Women; soft to me.
Crumble the sacred Mole of Salt and Corn,115
Next in the Fire the Bays with Brimstone burn.
And while it crackles in the Sulphur, say,
This, I for Daphnis burn; thus Daphnis burn away.
This Laurel is his Fate: Restore, my Charms,
My lovely Daphnis to my longing Arms.120

As when the raging Heyfar, through the Grove,
Stung with Desire, pursues her wand'ring Love;
Faint at the last, she seeks the weedy Pools,
To quench her thirst, and on the Rushes rowls:
Careless of Night, unmindful to return,125
Such fruitless Fires perfidious Daphnis burn.
While I so scorn his Love; Restore, my Charms,
My lingring Daphnis to my longing Arms.

These Garments once were his; and left to me;
The Pledges of his promis'd Loyalty:130

Which underneath my Threshold I bestow;
These Pawns, O sacred Earth! to me my Daphnis owe.
As these were his, so mine is he; my Charms,
Restore their lingring Lord to my deluded Arms.

These pois'nous Plants, for Magick use design'd,135
(The noblest and the best of all the baneful Kind,)
Old Mœris brought me from the Pontick Strand:
And cull'd the Mischief of a bounteous Land.
Smear'd with these pow'rful Juices, on the Plain,
He howls a Wolf among the hungry Train:140
And oft the mighty Negromancer boasts,
With these, to call from Tombs the stalking Ghosts:
And from the roots to tear the standing Corn;
Which, whirld aloft, to distant Fields is born.
Such is the strength of Spells; restore, my Charms,
My lingring Daphnis to my longing Arms.146

Bear out these Ashes; cast 'em in the Brook;
Cast backwards o'er your head, nor turn your look:
Since neither Gods, nor Godlike Verse can move,
Break out ye smother'd Fires, and kindle smother'd Love.
Exert your utmost pow'r, my lingring Charms,151
And force my Daphnis to my longing Arms.

See, while my last endeavours I delay,
The waking Ashes rise, and round our Altars play!

Run to the Threshold, Amaryllis, hark,155
Our Hylas opens, and begins to bark.
Good Heav'n! may Lovers what they wish believe;
Or dream their wishes, and those dreams deceive!
No more, my Daphnis comes; no more, my Charms;
He comes, he runs, he leaps to my desiring Arms.160