IDYLLIUM II.

CUPID AND THE FLOWER.

Á YOUTH, once fowling in a shady grove,
On a tall box-tree spy'd the god of love,
Perch'd like a beauteous bird; with sudden joy
At sight so noble leap'd the simple boy.
With eager expedition he prepares

His choicest twigs, his bird-lime, and his snares,
And in a heighb'ring covert smil'd to see
How here and there he skipt, and hopt from tree

to tree.

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When long in vain he waited to betray
"The god, enrag'd he flung his twigs away,
And to a ploughman near, an ancient man,
Of whom he learn'd his art, the youngster ran,
Told the strange story, while he held his plough,
And show'd the bird then perch'd upon a bough.
The grave old ploughman archly shook his head,
Smil'd at the simple boy, and thus he said:
"Cease, cease, my son, this dangerous sport give
o'er,

Fly far away, and chase that bird no more:
Blest should you fail to catch him!-Hence, away!
That bird, believe me, is a bird of prey:
Though now he seems to shun you all he can,
Yet soon as time shall lead you up to man,
He'll spread his flutt'ring pinions o'er your breast,
Perch on your brow, and in your bosom nest."

IDYLLIUM III.

THE TEACHER TAUGHT.

As late I slumbering lay, before my sight
Bright Venus rose in visions of the night:
She led young Cupid; as in thought profound
His modest eyes were fix'd upon the ground;
And thus she spoke: "To thee, dear swain, I
bring

My little son; instruct the boy to sing."
No more she said; but vanish'd into air,
And left the wily pupil to my care:

I, sure I was an ideot for my pains,
Began to teach him old bucolic strains;
How Pan the pipe, how Pallas form'd the flute,
Phœbus the lyre, and Mercury the lute:
Love, to my lessons quite regardless grown,
Sung lighter lays, and sonnets of his own,
Th' amours of men below, and gods above,
And all the triumphs of the queen of love.
I, sure the simplest of all shepherd swains,
Full soon forgot my old bucolic strains;
The lighter lays of Love my fancy caught,
And I remember'd all that Cupid taught.

IDYLLIUM IV.

THE POWER OF LOVE.

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20

IDYLLIUM V.

LIFE TO BE ENJOYED.

IF merit only stamps my former lays,
And those alone shall give me deathless praise:
But if ev'n those have lost their bright applause,
Why should I labour thus without a cause?
For if great Jove or Fate would stretch our span,
And give of life a double share to man,
One part to pleasures and to joy ordain,
And vex the other with hard toil and pain;

luctus monumenta manebunt Semper, Adoni, mei, repetitaque mortis imago Annua plangoris peraget simulamina nostri. For thee, lost youth, my tears, and restless pain, Shall in immortal monuments remain: With solemn pomp, in annual rites return'd, Be thou for ever, my Adonis, mourn'd.

Eusden.

Idyll. II. Spenser has imitated this idyllium in his Shepherd's Calendar for the month of March, but in a language too harsh for modern ears.

Qur hours, for labour still enhances joy.
But since of life we have but one small share,
A pittance scant which daily toils impair,
Why should we waste it in pursuit of care?

10

Idyl. IV.-12. Or dies in faltering accents on my tongue] Sappho's situation is much the same, though on a different occasion. See stanza 2.

While gazing on thy charms I hung, My voice died faltering on my tongue. Anacreon's first ode bears a great similitude to this idyllium.

Idyl. V. This fragment is preserved by Stobæus. 11. But since of life we have but one small share] summa brevis spem nos vetat inchoare lonHor. I. 1. od, 4. Life's short, fleeting span Allows no long protracted plan.

gam.

Duncombe.

Why do we labour to augment our store,
The more we gain, still coveting the more?
Alas! alas! we quite forget that man
Is a mere mortal, and his life a span.

IDYLLIUM VI

CLEODAMUS AND MYRSON.

CLEODAMUS.

SAY, in their courses circling as they tend,
What season is most grateful to my friend?
Summer, whose suns mature the teeming ground,
Or golden Autumn, with full harvests crown'd?
Or Winter hoar, when soft reclin'd at ease,
The fire fair-blazing, and sweet leisure please?
Or genial Spring, in blooming beauty gay?
Speak, Myrson, while around the lambkins play.

MYRSON.

It ill becomes frail mortals to define
What's best and fittest of the works divine; 10
The works of Nature all are grateful found,
And all the seasons in their various round.
But since my friend demands my private voice,
Then learn the season that is Myrson's choice.
Me the hot Summer's suitry heats displease;
Fell Autumn teems with pestilent disease;
Tempestuons Winter's chilling frosts I fear
But wish for purple Spring through all the year.
Then neither cold nor heat moiests the morn;
But rosy Plenty fills her copious horn: 20
Then bursting buds their odorous blooms display,
And Spring makes equal night, and equal day.

2uid tam solicitis vitam consumimus annis,
Torquemurque metu, cæcaque cupidine rerum,
Æternisque senes curis, dum quærimus, ævum
Perdimus; et nullo votorum fine beati,
Victuros agimus semper, nec vivimus unquam ?
Why do we thus consume our years
In blind desires, and anxious fears?
For in the search, grown grey with pain,
We lose the bliss we strive to gain :
And thus, absorb'd by distant views,
In thoughts of living, life we lose.
Idyl.VI.-18. But wish for purple Spring through
all the year]

D.

Et nunc omnis ager, nunc omnis parturit arbos, Nunc frondent sylvæ, nunc formosissimus aunus. Virg. ecl. 3.

The trees are cloth'd with leaves, the fields with grass;

The blossoms blow; the birds on bushes sing; And Nature has accomplish'd all the Spring. Dryden.

When with fair Helen Paris cross'd the deep,
Brought her to Troy, and made Oenone weep;
The injur'd states of Greece were all alarm'd,
Spartans, Mycenians, and Laconians arm'd;
The treachery stùng their souls, and bloody ven-
geance warm'd

In close disguise his life Achilles led,
Among the daughters of king Lycomed:
Instead of arms the hero learn'd to cull
The snowy fleece, and weave the twisted wool.
Like theirs, his cheeks a rosy bloom display'd,
Like them he seem'd a fair and lovely maid;
As soft his air, as delicate his tread,
Like them he cover'd with a veil his head :
But in his veins the tides of courage flow'd,
And love's soft passion in his bosom glow'd;
By Deidamia's side from morn to night
He sat, and with ineffable delight

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Oft kiss'd her snow-white hand, or gently press'd
The blooming virgin to his glowing breast.
His soul was all enraptur'd with her charms,
Ardent he long'd to clasp her in his arms;
Oft in her ear these words enamour'd said,
By pairs your sisters press the downy bed;
But we, two maids of equal age and bloom,
Still sleep divided in a separate room.
Why should the night, more cruel than the day,
Steal the sweet virgin, whom I love, away?"

IDYLLIUM VIII.

LOVE RESISLTESS.

SWEET Venus, daughter of the main,
Why are you pleas'd with mortals' pain?

Idyl. VII.-3. Such as the Cyclops, &c.] The fable of Polyphemus and Galatea has furnished matter for several poets, particularly Theocritus in his 6th and 11th idylliums, and Ovid in the 13th book of the Metamorphoses, fable the 8th; who has borrowed freely from Theocritus. See also Bion's sixth Fragment.

9. Achilles' stol'n embrace, &c.] The story of Achilles and Deidamia is told at large by Statius in the Achilleid.

DESPONDING Sorrow seiz'd Apollo's heart;
All cures he try'd, and practis'd every art;
With nectar and ambrosia drest the wound:
Useless, alas! all remedies are found,
When Fate with cruel shears encompasses around

Idyll. VIII.-7. You gave him wings, &c.] There is a similar thought in a Greek epigram: Φεύγειν δη τον Ερωτα κενος πόνος ο γαρ αλύξω Πεζος από τηνε συχνα διωκόμενος.

Of shunning love 'tis vain to talk, When he can fly, and I but walk. Idyll. IX.-9. Blest when in battle, &c.] Longepierre and Laurentius Gambara have given the same interpretation of this passage; and it seems to be confirmed by what Patroclus says to Hector, in the sixteenth book of the Iliad, when he is just expiring:

Insulting man! thou shalt be soon as I; Black Fate hangs o'er thee, and thy hour draws nigh;

Ev'n now on life's last verge I see thee stand, I see thee fall, and by Achilles' hand. Pope. Frag. I. This is a small fragment of an Idyllium on the death of Hyacinthus, whom Apollo unfortunately slew as he was playing with him at quoits.

2. All cures he try'd, and practis'd every art] Apollo is said to have invented physic: he tells Daphne, Ovid Metamorph. book 1,

Inventum medicina meum est, opiferque per orbem Dicor, & herbarum subjecta potentia nobis. Medicine is mine; what herbs and simples grow In fields and forests, all their powers I know; And am the great physician call'd, below.

Dryden.

FRAGMENT 11.

THUS to the smith it is not fair,
My friend, for ever to repair,
And still another's aid to ask:
Make your own pipe; 'tis no such arduous task.
FRAGMENT III.

INVITE the Muses, Love, and in your train,
Ye sacred Muses, bring me Love again!
And ever grant, my wishes to complete,
The gift of song-no remedy so sweet!
FRAGMENT IV.
INCESSANT drops, as proverbs say,
Will wear the hardest stones away.

FRAGMENT V.

ON a steep cliff, beside the sandy beach,
Sudden I stop, and, whispering soft, beseech
Relentless Galatea; even in age

Love still shall bloom, and still my hopes engage.

FRAGMENT VI.

LET me not pass without reward! For Phoebus on each tuneful bard Some gift bestows: the noblest lays Are owing to the thirst of praise.

FRAGMENT VIIE

IN beauty boasts fair woman-kind;
Man, in a firm, undaunted mind.

Frag. II. I have always thought, that this frag. ment should be understood, allegorically, of those who, though they have riches (or talents) in abundance, yet make no use of them.

Longepierre.

Frag. III. Thus Apollo, in Ovid, Metamorph. book. I.

Hei mihi, quod nullis amor est medicabilis herbis! To cure the pains of Love, no plant avails.

Dryden.

Frag. IV. This proverb is common almost to every nation.

Thus Ovid:

Quid magis est durum saxo, quid mollius undâ? Dura tamen molli saxa cavantur aquâ.

And,

Gutta cavat lapidem non vi, sed sæpe cadendo.

Frag. V. This seems to have been part of a speech of Polyphemus, in an Idyllium on the subject of Acis and Galatea; which Ovid probably imitated in his Metamorph. book 13. For similar to this Fragment are the following lines: · gradiens ingenti littora passu

Degravat
with stalking pace he strode,
And stamp'd the margin of the briny flood.
And, Prominet in pontum, &c.

A promontory, sharpening by degrees,
Ends in a wedge, and overlooks the seas:
On either side, below, the water flows;
This airy walk the giant lover chose. Dryden.
Frag. VII. Similar to this is the second ode of
Anacreon; for which and the notes see page 558.

GRAINGER'S QDE ON SOLITUDE.

IDYLLIUM I.

IN search of her son, to the listening crowd, T'other day lovely Venus thus cry'd him aloud; "Whoever may chance a stray Cupid to meet, My vagabond boy, as he strolls in the street,

Idyllium 1.-This beautiful Idyllium is imitated by Spenser, in his Fairy Queen, b, 3. c. 6. st. 11. It fortuned, fair Venus having lost Her little son, the winged god of love, Who for some light displeasure, which him crost, Was from her fled, as flit as airy dove, And left her blissful bower of joy above; (So from her often he had fled away, When she for aught him sharply did reprove, And wander'd in the world in strange array, Disguis'd in thousand shapes, that none might him bewray.)

Him for to seek, she left her heavenly house, And searched every way through which his wings

Had borne him, or his tract she mote detect: She promis'd kisses sweet, and sweeter things, Unto the man, that of him tidings to her brings.

And will bring me the news, his reward shall be this,
He may freely demand of fair Venus a kiss ;
But, if to my arms he the boy can restore,
He's welcome to kisses, and something still more.
His marks are so plain, and so many, you'll own
That among twenty others he's easily known. 10
His skin is not white, but the colour of flame;
His eyes are most cruel, his heart is the same:

Meleager also has copied this fine original of Moschus, and given us a picture of Cupid much in the same manner. See Anthologia, b. 7. epig. 16, Κηρύσσω τον Ερωτα, κ. τ. λ.

I'm in search of a Cupid that late went astray,
And stole from my bed with the dawn of the day,
His aspect is bold, his tongue never lies still,
And yet he can whine, and has tears at his will.
At human misfortunes he laughs and he sncers;
On his shoulders a quiver and pinions he wears:
"Tis unknown from what sire he deduces his birth;
'Tis not from the Air, nor the Sea, nor the Earth;
For he's hated by all-but, good people, beware;
Perhaps for a heart he's now laying a snare→
Ha, ha, cunning Cupid, I see where you lie,
With your bow ready bent:-in Zenophila's eye,

His delicate lips with persuasion are hung;
But, ah! how they differ, his mind and his tongue!
His voice sweet as honey; but nought can con-
troul,

Whene'er he's provok'd, his implacable soul.
He never speaks truth, full of fraud is the boy;
And woe is his pastime, and sorrow his joy.
His head is emb llish'd with bright curling hair;
He has confident looks, and an insolent air.
Though his hands are but little, yet darts they can
fling

To the regions below, and their terrible king.
His body quite naked to view is reveal'd,

20

But he covers his mind, and his thoughts are conceal'd.

Like a bird light of feather, the branches among,
He skips here and there, to the old, to the young,
From the men to the maids on a sudden he strays,
And hid in their hearts on their vitals he preys.
The bow which he carries is little and light,
On the nerve is an arrow wing'd ready for flight,
A little short arrow, yet swiftly it flies
Through regions of ether, and pierces the skies.
A quiver of gold on his shoulders is bound,
Stor'd with darts, that alike friends and enemies
wound:

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13 & 14. His delicate lips with persuasion are hung;

But, ah! how they differ, his mind and his tongue! His voice sweet as honey]

Thus the royal Psalmist, Psalm 55. v. 22. "The words of his mouth are softer than butter, having war in his heart; his words were smoother than oil, and yet be they very swords." And Solomon, Proverbs, chap. 5. v. 3. "For the lips of a strange woman drop as an honey-comb, and her mouth is Soother than oil."

41. Show the rogue no compassion, though oft he appears

To weep]

There is an epigram of Crinagoras," Anthol. b. 4. ch. 12. which may illustrate this passage: it is on an image of Cupid bound.

Και κλαι και σεναζε, κ. τ. λ.

Perfidious wretch, you now may cry,
And wring your hands, and sob, and sigh:
Who now your advocate will be?
Who now from chains will set you free?
You oft, by causeless doubts and fears,
From other eyes have forc'd the tears,
And, by your bitter-biting darts,
Instill'd love's poison into hearts.
O Love, who laugh'd at human bail,
Now all your arts elusive fail,
And justice will at last prevail.

Perhaps, with a laugh kisses sweet he will proffer; His kisses are poison, ah! shun the vile offer. Perhaps he'll say, sobbing: 'No mischief I know; Here, take all my arrows, my darts and my bow! Ah! beware, touch them not-deceitful his aim; His darts and his arrows are all tipt with flame."

IDYLLIUM II. EUROPA.

THE queen of love, on amorous wiles intent,
A pleasing dream to fair Europa sent.
What time still night had roll'd the hours away,
And the fresh dawn began to promise day,
When balmy slumbers, and composing rest,
Close every eye, and sooth the pensive breast,
When dreams and visions fill the busy brain,
Prophetic dreams, that never rise in vain:
'Twas then Europa, as she sleeping lay,
Chaste as Diana, sister of the Day,
Saw in her cause the adverse shore engag'd
In war with Asia; terribly they rag'd:
Each seem'd a woman; that in foreign guise,
A native this, and claim'd the lovely prize
With louder zeal: "The beauteous nymph," she

said,

"Her daughter was, and in her bosom bred." But she, who as a stranger was array'd, Fore'd to her arms the unresisting maid;

10

Idyll. II. This poem has been printed in some of the most ancient editions of Theocritus; and therefore some erities have taken it for granted that he was the author, without recollecting, that, idylliums were collected together in one volume, in the time of the later Grecians, all the ancient and the name of Theocritus prefixed to the whole: on which occasion there is an epigram in the Anthologia, ascribed to Artemidorus: Βυκολικής μέσας σποράδες προκα, νυν δ' αμα πασα Εντι μιας μανδρας, εντι μιας αγέλας.

The past'ral Muses, scatter'd o'er the plains, A single flock, a single fold contains.

This is one of those idylliums which has been adjudged to Moschus: besides, Ursinus tells us (as we are informed by Mr. Heskin) "that in two very ancient manuscripts which he had scen, one be longing to the Vatican, the other to the Medicèan library, he observed, that the idyllium, entitled Europa, was ascribed to Moschus."

8. Prophetic dreams, that never rise in vain] Post mediam noctem, cum somnia vera. Hor. b. 1. sat. 10,