The Poet celebrates the Birth day of Salonius, the Son of Pollio, born in the Confulfhip of his Father, after the taking of Salonæ, a City in Dalmatia. Many of the Verfes are tranflated from one of the Sibyls, who prophesied of our Saviour's Birth.
Icilian Mufe begin a loftier strain!
Though lowly Shrubs and Trees that shade the Delight not all; if thither I repair,
My Song shall make 'em worth a Conful's Care.
The laft great Age foretold by facred Rhymes,
Renews its finish'd Course, Saturnian times
Rowl round again, and mighty Years, begun
From their firft Orb in radiant Circles run.
The bafe degenerate Iron-off-fpring ends;
A golden Progeny from Heav'n descends;
O chaft Lucina fpeed the Mother's Pains
And hafte the glorious Birth, thy own Apollo reigns!
The lovely Boy, with his aufpicious Face,
Shall Pollie's Confulfhip and Triumph Grace;
Majeftick Months fet out with him to their ap-
pointed Race.
The Father banish'd Virtue shall reftore,
And Crimes fhall threat the guilty World no more.
The Son fhall lead the Life of Gods, and be
By Gods and Heroes feen, and Gods and Heroes fee,
The jarring Nations he in Peace fhall bind,
And with paternal Virtues rule Mankind,
Unbidden Earth shall wreathing Ivy bring,
And fragrant Herbs (the promises of Spring)
As her first Off'rings to her Infant King.
The Goats with ftrutting Dugs shall homeward speed,
And lowing Herds, fecure from Lions feed.
His Cradle fhall with rifing Flowers be crown'd;
The Serpents Brood fhall die: the facred Ground
Shall Weeds and pois'nous Plants refufe to bear,
Each common Bush fhall Syrian Rofes wear.
But when Heroick Verfe his Youth fhall raise,
And form it to Hereditary Praise ;
Unlabour'd Harvefts fhall the Fields adorn,
And cluster'd Grapes fhall blush on every Thorn.
The knotted Oaks fhall fhow'rs of Honey weep,
And through the matted Grafs the liquid Gold fhall
creep.
Yet, of old Fraud fome footfteps fhall remain,
The Merchant ftill fhall plough the Deep for gain :
Great Cities fhall with Walls be compafs'd round;
And sharpen'd Shares fhall vex the fruitful Ground,
Another Tiphys hall new Seas explore,
Another Argos on th' Iberian Shore
Shall land the chofen Chiefs:
Another Helen other Wars create,
And great Achilles fhall be fent to urge the Trojan fate;
But when to ripen'd Man-hood he shall grow,
The greedy Sailor fhall the Seas forego;
No Keel fhall cut the Waves for foreign Ware ;
For every Soil fhall every Product bear.
The labouring Hind his Oxen fhall disjoin, [Vine:
No Plow fhall hurt the Glebe, no Pruning-hook the
Nor Wool fhall in diffembled Colours fhine.
But the luxurious Father of the Fold,
With native Purple, or unborrow'd Gold,
Beneath his pompous Fleece hall proudly fweat:
And under Tyrian Robes the Lamb fhall bleat.
The Fates, when they his happy Web have spun,
Shall blefs the facred Clue, and bid it smoothly run
Mature in Years, to awful Honours move,
O of Cœleftial Stem! O fofter Son of Jove!
See, labouring Nature calls thee to sustain
The nodding Frame of Heav'n, and Earth, and Main;
See to their Base reftor'd, Earth, Seas, and Air, [pear.
And joyful Ages from behind, ftand crowding to ap-
To fing thy Praise, wou'd Heav'n my Breath prolong,
Infusing Spirits worthy fuch a Song;
Not Thracian Orpheus fhould transcend my Lays,
Nor Linus crown'd with never-fading Bays:
Though each his Heav'nly Parent shou'd inspire;
The Muse inftruct the Voice, and Phabus tune the Lyre.
Shou'd Pan contend with me, and thou my Theme,
Arcadian Judges fhou'd their God condemn.
Begin, aufpicious Boy, to caft about
[out;
Thy Infant Eyes, and with a smile, thy Mother fingle
Thy Mother well deferves that short delight,
The naufeous Qualms of ten long Months and Tra-
vel to requite.
Then fmile; the frowning Infant's Doom is read, No God fhail crown the Board, nor Goddess bless the Bed.
English'd by Mr. DUKE.
MENAL CAS.
Mopfus, fince chance does us together bring,
fo well can pipe, and I can fing,
Why fit we not beneath this fecret Shade,
By Elms and Hazels mingling Branches made?
Your Age commands Respect, and I obey,
Whether you in this lonely Copfe will stay,
Where western Winds the bending Branches shake,
And in their play the Shades uncertain make:
Or whether to that filent Cave you go,
The better choice! and fee the wild Vines grow
Luxuriant round, and fee how wide they spread,
And in the Cave their purple Clufters fhed!
MENAL CAS.
Amyntas only dares contend with you.
Why not as well contend with Phoebus too?
MENAL CAS.
Begin, begin, whether the mournful Flame
Of dying Phylis, whether Alcon's Fame,
Or Codrus's Brawls thy willing Mufe provoke;
Begin, young Tityrus will tend the Flock.
MOPSV S.
Yes, I'll begin, and the fad Song repeat,
That on the Beech's Bark I lately writ,
And set to sweetest Notes; yes, I'll begin,
And after that, bid you Amyntas fing.¡
As much as the most humble Shrub that grows,
Yields to the beauteous Blushes of the Rofe,
Or bending Ofiers to the Olive Tree;
So much, I judge, Amyntas yields to thee.
MOP SUS.
Shepherd, to this Discourse, here put an end,
This is the Cave, fit and my Verfe attend.
When the fad Fate of Daphnis reach'd their Ears,
The pitying Nymphs diffolv'd in pious Tears.
Witness, you Hazels, for you heard their Cries,
Witnefs, you Floods, fwoln with their weeping Eyes,
The mournful Mother (on his Body caft)
The fad remains of her cold Son embrac'd,
And of th' unequal Tyranny they us'd,
The cruel Gods and cruel Stars accus'd.
Then did no Swain mind how his Flock did thrive,
Nor thirsty Herds to the cold River drive;
The generous Horfe turn'd from fresh Streams his
And on the fweeteft Grafs refus'd to feed. [Head,
Daphnis, thy death, even fierceft Lions mourn'd,
And Hills and Woods their cries and groans return'd.
Daphnis Armenian Tygers fierceness broke,
And brought 'em willing to the facred Yoke:
Daphnis to Bacchus Worship did ordain
The Revels of his confecrated Train;
The Reeling Priests with Vines and Ivy crown'd,
And their long Spears with clufter'd Branches bound,
As Vines the Elm, as Grapes the Vine adorn,
As Bulls the Herd, as Fields the ripen'd Corn;
Such Grace, fuch Ornament wert thou to all
That glory'd to be thine: Since thy fad Fall,
No more Apollo his glad prefence yields,
And Pales felf forfakes her hated Fields.
Oft where the finest Barley we did fow,
Barren Wild-Oates, and hurtful Darnel grow;
And where foft Violets did the Vales adorn,
The Thistle rises and the prickly Thorn. [ground,
Come Shepherds, ftrow with Flow'rs the hallow'd
The facred Fountains with thick Boughs furround;
Daphnis thefe Rites requires: to Daphnis' Praise
Shepherds a Tomb with this Inscription raise,
Here fam'd from Earth to Heaven I Daphnis lie;
Fair was the Flock I fed, but much more fair was I.
MENAL CAS.
Such, divine Poet, to my ravish'd Ears
Are the sweet numbers of thy mournful Verfe,
As to tir'd Swains soft slumbers on the Grafs;
As fresheft Springs that through green Meadows pass,
To one that's parch'd with thirst and fummer's heat.
In thee thy Mafter does his Equal meet:
Whether your Voice you try, or tune your Reed,
Bleft Swain, 'tis you alone can him fucceed!
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