But first from silver shells shall unguents flow, Bedew the spreading plane and all the flowers below:

And on the rind we'll write, that all may see,
'Here pay your honours, I am Helen's tree.'
Joy to the bride, and to the bridegroom joy,
And may Latona bless you with a boy!
May Venus furnish both with equal love!
And lasting riches be the gift of Jove!
May these descend, and by possession grow,
From sire to son, augmenting as they flow!
"Now sweetly slumber, mutual love inspire,
And gratify the fullness of desire:

Rise with the blushing morning, nor forget
The due of Venus, and discharge the debt:
Aud, ere the day's loud herald has begun
To speak his early prologue to the Sun,
Again we'll greet your joys with cheerful voice,
O Hymen, Hymen, at this match rejoice!",

IDYLLIUM XIX*.

THE HONEY-STEALER.

ARGUMENT.

plains to his mother, that so small an animal should inflict so great a wound; she immediately answers, that he himself is but little like a bee, yet the wounds he gives are grievous.

80

As Cupid is stealing honey from a bee-hive, he is stung by a bee; on which he runs and comhalf in length, and an inch in breadth, of a shin ing green colour, and serrated about the edges: the fruit is of the shape and size of olives, and the pulp of it has a sweet taste like honey; and therefore cannot be the nettle-tree, the fruit of which is far from that delicacy which is ascribed to the lotus of the ancients. See Martyn on the Geor. b. 2. 84. But the lotus here spoken of is most probably an herb, the same Homer describes in the Odyssey, b. 9, and which Eustathius takes to be an herb; he says, there is an Egyptian lotus which grows in great abundance along the Nile, in the time of its inundations. Prosper Alpinus, an author of good credit, who travelled into Egypt, assures us, that the Egyptian lotus does not at all differ from our great white water-lily.

67. The custom of writing on the bark of trees was very common among the ancients, thus Virgil;

Certum est in sylvis, inter spelæa ferarum Malle pati, tenerisque meos incidere amores Arboribus: crescent illæ, crescetis amores. Ecl. 10. See Ovid in Oenone, Propertius, b. 1. Eleg. 18, &c.

Nothing can be more beautifully pastoral than this inscription on the bark of the plane-tree, as also the simile at the 61st and 62d verses. 75. Mutual love inspire] 2uce spirabat amores. Hor. b. 4. O. 11. $1. Again we'll greet, &c.] The chorus of virrins here promise to return early in the morning, and sing the Carmen Eyiguxov.

82. O Hymen, &c.] Thus Catullus, Carm. Nup.

Hymen, O Hymenæe, Hymen ades, O Hymenæe

In this small poem Theocritus has copied the 40th ode of Anacreon, in every thing but the measure of his verse: the original of this is in hexameter, and therefore I thought it improper to give it Anacreontic numbers. I shall take the liberty

And leaping in anguish show'd Venus the wound;
Then began in a sorrowful tone to complain,
That an insect so little should cause so great pain.
Venus smiling, her son in such taking to see,
Said, "Cupid, you put me in mind of a bee;
You're just such a busy, diminutive thing,
Yet you make woeful wounds with a desperate
sting."

IDYLLIUM XX*.

EUNICA, OR THE NEATHERD.

ARGUMENT.

10

A rough neatherd complains of the pride and insolence of a city girl, who refused to let him kiss her, and rallied his awkward figure: he appeals to the neighbouring shepherds, and asks them if he is not handsome; if his voice is not sweet, and his songs enchanting; and relates examples of goddesses that have been enamoured of herdsmen. In this Idyllium the poet is thought to be severe on those who with arrogance despise the sweetness and simplicity of bucolic mumbers. It is strange, that the commentators will not allow this piece to be styled a pastoral: surely it is bucolical enough.

to insert a translation of the Teian bard's little poem, that the English reader may have the pleasure to see the manner in which the ancient poets copied their predecessors.

Once as Cupid, tir'd with play,
On a bed of roses lay,

A rude bee, that slept unseen,
The sweet breathing buds between,
Stung his finger, cruel chance!
With its little pointed lance.
Straight he fills the air with cries,
Weeps, and sobs, and runs, and flies;
Till the god to Venus came,
Lovely, laughter-loving dame:
Then he thus began to plain;
"Oh! undone-I die with pain-
Dear mamma, a serpent small,
Which a bee the ploughmen call,
Imp'd with wings, and arm'd with dart,
Oh! has stung me to the heart."

Venus thus replied, and smil'd; "Dry those tears, for shame! my child; If a bee can wound so deep, Causing Cupid thus to weep, Think, O think, what cruel pains He that's stung by thee sustains!" *This Idyllium has by Daniel Heinsius, and other learned critics, been ascribed to Moschns, and for that reason I published a translation of it some time ago, along with a version of the other

F. F.

WHEN lately I offer'd Eunica to kiss, She ficer'd, and she flouted, and took it amiss; "Begone, you great booby," she cry'd with a frown, "Do you think that I long to be kiss'd by a clown? The sparks of the city my kis es esteem; You never shall kiss me, no, not in a dream. How pleasing your look! and how gently you play! How soft is your voice! and what fine things you say!

So neat is your beard, and so comely your hair! Your hands are so white, and your lips, a sweet pair! 10

But on your dear person I never shall doat;
So pray keep your distance-you smell like a goat."
Thus sp oke the pert hussy, and view'd me all round
With an eye of disdain, and thrice spit on the
ground,

Look'd proud of her charms, with an insolent sneer,
And seat me away with a flea in my ear.
My blood quickly boil'd in a violent pique,
And, red as a ros, passion glow'd in my cheek;
For it vex'd me, that thus in derision she jeer'd
My looks, and my voice, and my hair, and my
beard.

20 But, am I not handsome, ye shepherds, say true? Or has any god alter'd my person anew?

beautiful pieces of that, and of four other Greek poets, viz. Anacreon, Sappho, Bion, and Musæus; but as in all probability Theocritus is the real author, I here insert it with several alterations and corrections, as I shall entirely omit it in the second edition of my work above mentioned, which will shortly be published; the first having been very favourably received by the public.

5. The sparks of the city, &c.] The Greek is, μεμάθηκε άτυχα χειλεα θλίβειν, Didici urbana labra terere, which Virgil seems to have had an eye to, when he says, Calamo trivisse labellum; on which Mr. Warton observes, there is a fondness in mentioning this circumstance of wearing his lip. The constant effect of playing on the fistula, which is used to this day in the Grecian islands, is making the lips thick and callous. Mr. Dawkins assured me he saw several shepherds with such lips.

13. View'd me all round] Virgil has something similar,

Talia dicentem jamdudum aversa tuetur, Huc illuc volvens oculos, totumque pererrat Luminibus tacitis. An. b. 4. 362. 14. Thrice spit on the ground] The Greek is, τρις εις τον επτυξε κολπον, and should be rendered, She thrice spit into her bosom. Archbishop Potter observes, see Archæol. ch. 17, it was customary for the ancient Grecians to spit three times into their bosoms at the sight of a madman, or one troubled with an epilepsy; this they did in defiance, as it were, of the omen; for spitting was a sign of the greatest contempt and detestation, whence TTU, to spit, is put for to contemn.

22. Has any god alter'd, &c.] The poet here seems to allude to a passage in Homer's Odys. b. 13, where Minerva changes Ulysses into the figure of an old beggar.

She spake, and touch'd him with her powerful wand:

The skin shrunk up, and wither'd at her hand:

My songs are enchanting; nor ought can exceed
The tunes of my pipe, or the notes of my reed. 30
The girls of the country, if they had their wills,
Would kiss me, and press me to stay on the hills;
For they say, that I'm fair: but this dirt of the
town

Refus'd my sweet kisses, and call'd me a clown.
Alas! she forgot, or perhaps did not know,
That Bacchus fed herds in the valley below;
That Venus a swain lov'd with hearty good will,
And help'd him his cattle to tend on the hill; .
Adonis, while living, in groves she ador'd,
And dead, in the groves and on mountains deplor'd.
If right my conjecture, Endymiou, I ween, 41
Like me too once tended his steers on the green;
Yet the Moon in this neatherd took such a delight,
That she met him at Latmos, and kiss'd him all
night.

Ev'n Cybele mourn'd for a herdsman; and Jove
Snatch'd a boy from his herd to be waiter above.
But Eunica disdains me, nor lists to my vow;
Is she better than Cynthia, or Cybele, trow?
Does she think that in bloom, and the beauty of face
She is equal to Venus? if that be the case;
May she never behold sweet Adonis again
On the hill, in the vale, in the city or plain;
And may the proud minx, for her crime to atone,
If she can, sleep contented-but always alone!

50

27. My lips, &c.] This is entirely taken from Solomon's Song, ch. iv. 11. Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb; honey and milk are under thy tongue.

40. And dead, &c.] See Bion's beautiful Idyllium on the death of Adonis. 41. Endymion] tibi, Luna, rubori.

Latmius Endymion non est Ovid Art. Aman. 3. 85. 54. Always alone] Sappho, with the most elegant simplicity, complains, that she is deserted and left alone.

ÍDYLLIUM XXI.

THE FISHERMEN.

ARGUMENT.

This piece is a dialogue between two fishermen, which for its singular simplicity of sentiment, as well as character, is peculiarly beautiful and regular: one of them relates his dream, which was, that he had caught a large fish of solid gold, on which he resolves to follow his laborious occupation no longer, but live luxuriously: in the morning his fish and his hopes vanish, and necessity compels him to return to his accustomed labours. This Idyllium admonishes every one to rest content with his lot; and under the shadow of a golden dream, beautifully displays the vanity of all human hopes and desires.

NEED, Diophantus, ready wit imparts,

Is Labour's mistress, and the nurse of arts:
Corroding cares the toiling wretch infest,
Arl spoil the peaceful tenour of his breast;
And if soft slumbers on his eye-lids creep,
Some cursed care steals in, and murders sleep.
Two ancient fishers in a straw-thatcht shed,
Leaves were their walls, and sea-weed was their bed,
Reclin'd their weary limbs; hard by were laid
Baskets, and all their implements of trade,
Rods, hooks, and lines compos'd of stout horse-
hairs,

10

And nets of various sorts, and various snares,
The seine, the cast-net, and the wicker maze,
To waste the watery tribes a thousand ways:
A crazy boat was drawn upon a plank;
Matts were their pillow, wove of osiers dank,
Skins, caps, and rugged coats a covering made:
This was their wealth, their labour, and their trade.
No pot to boil, no watch-dog to defend;
Yet blest they liv'd, with Penury their friend. 20

1. Need, &c.] Thus Virgil,

Tom variæ venêre artes: labor omnia vincit
Improbus, & duris urgens in rebus egestas.
Geor. 1. 145.

Then all those arts that polish life succeed;
What cannot ceaseless toil, and pressing need!

And Persius, Prol.

Warton.

None visited their shed, save, every tide,
The wanton waves that wash'd its tottering side.
When half her course the Moon's bright car had
sped,

Joint labour rous'd the tenants of the shed.
The dews of slumber from their eyes they clear'd,
And thus their mind with pleasing parley cheer'd.

ASPHALION.

I hold, my friend, that trite opinion wrong,
That suminer-nights are short, when days are long.
Yes I have seen a thousand dreams to night,
And yet no morn appears, nor morning light: 30
Sure on my mind some strange illusions play,
And make short nights wear heavily away.

FRIEND.

Fair summer-seasons you unjustly blame,
Their bounds are equal, and their pace the same;
But cares, Asphalion, in a busy throng,
Break on your rest, and make the night seem long.

ASPHALION.

Say, hast thou genius to interpret right
My dream? I've had a jolly one to night.
Thou shalt go halves, and more thou canst not wish,
We'll share the vision, as we share our fish. 40
I know thee shrewd, expert of dreams to spell;
He's the best judge, who can conjecture well.
We've leisure time, which can't be better spent
By wretched carles in wave-wash'd cabin pent,
And lodg'd on leaves; yet why should we repine,
While living lights in Prytaneum shine?

33. Fair summer-seasons, &c.] Here I entirely follow the emendation of Heinsius; the text stands thus:

Ασφαλίων, μεμφη το καλόν θερος, ο γαρ ο καιρός,
Αυτομάτως παρέβα τον εον δρόμον.

Asphalion, you accuse the fair summer; for that season never willingly passes its bounds: which is nonsense; but by transposing the first word of each verse, thus,

Αυτομάτως μεμφη το καλόν θέρος, ο γαρ ο καιρός,
Ασφαλίων, παρέβα τον εον δρόμον.

In vain and without reason you accuse the fair summer, &c.

42. He's the best judge, &c.] This seems to be taken from that verse of Euripides, which we read in Plutarch,

Μαντις δ' άριστος οςις εικαζει καλώς, Which Tully has thus translated,

Qui bene conjecit, vatem perhibebo optumum. 46. Prytaneum] The Prytaneum was a commonhall in the cities of Greece, where those that had deserved well of their country were maintained at the public charge; where also the fire consecrated to Vulcan was kept, as that sacred to Vesta at Rome. Cicero de Orat. 1. 54, says, Ut ei victus quotidianus in Prytaneo, publice præberetur. If this be understood of the Prytaneum at Athens, Scaliger observes, that there is great impropriety in Sicilian fishermen mentioning places so far remote from the scene of their labours: but from what follows it appears, there was a place in the neighbourhood, very commodious for fishing, named Prytaneum, on which nocturnal lamps were