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1735–1803

PASTORAL VIII.

James Beattie

Rehearse we, Pollio, the enchanting strains Alternate sung by two contending swains. Charm'd by their songs, the hungry heifers stood In deep amaze, unmindful of their food;

The listening lynxes laid their rage aside, The streams were silent, and forgot to glide. O thou, where'er thou lead'st thy conquering host, Or by Timavus,or th’ Illyrian coast!

When shall my Muse, transported with the theme, In strains sublime my Pollio's deeds proclaim; And celebrate thy lays by all admir'd, Such as of old Sophocles’ Muse inspir'd?

To thee, the patron of my rural songs, To thee my first, my latest lay belongs. Then let this humble ivy-wreath enclose, Twin'd with triumphal bays, thy godlike brows.

What time the chill sky brightens with the dawn, When cattle love to crop the dewy lawn, Thus Damon to the woodlands wild complain'd, As‘ gainst an olive's lofty trunk he lean'd.

Lead on the genial day, O star of morn! While wretched I, all hopeless and forlorn, With my last breath my fatal woes deplore, And call the gods by whom false Nisa swore;

Though they, regardless of a lover's pain, Heard her repeated vows, and heard in vain. Begin, my pipe, the sweet Maenalian strain. Blest Maenalus! that hears the pastoral song

Still languishing its tuneful groves along! That hears th’ Arcadian god's celestial lay, Who taught the idly-rustling reeds to play! That hears the singing pines! that hears the swain

Of love's soft chains melodiously complain! Begin, my pipe, the sweet Maenalian strain. Mopsus the willing Nisa now enjoys — What may not lovers hope from such a choice!

Now mares and griffins shall their hate resign, And the succeeding age shall see them join In friendship's tie; now mutual love shall bring The dog and doe to share the friendly spring.

Scatter thy nuts, O Mopsus, and prepare The nuptial torch to light the wedded fair. Lo, Hesper hastens to the western main! And thine the night of bliss — thine, happy swain!

Begin, my pipe, the sweet Maenalian strain. Exult, O Nisa, in thy happy state! Supremely blest in such a worthy mate; While you my beard detest, and bushy brow,

And think the gods forget the world below: While you my flock and rural pipe disdain, And treat with bitter scorn a faithful swain. Begin, my pipe, the sweet Maenalian strain.

When first I saw you by your mother's side, To where our apples grew I was your guide: Twelve summers since my birth had roll'd around, And I could reach the branches from the ground.

How did I gaze!— how perish!— ah how vain The fond bewitching hopes that sooth'd my pain! Begin, my pipe, the sweet Maenalian strain. Too well I know thee, Love. From Scythian snows,

Or Lybia's burning sands the mischief rose. Rocks adamantine nurs'd this foreign bane, This fell invader of the peaceful plain. Begin, my pipe, the sweet Maenalian strain.

Love taught the mother'smurdering hand to kill, Her children's blood love bade the mother spill. Was love the cruel cause?Or did the deed From fierce unfeeling cruelty proceed?

Both fill'd her brutal bosom with their bane; Both urg'd the deed, while Nature shrunk in vain. Begin, my pipe, the sweet Maenalian strain. Now let the fearful lamb the wolf devour;

Let alders blossom with Narcissus’ flower; From barren shrubs let radiant amber flow; Let rugged oaks with golden fruitage glow; Let shrieking owls with swans melodious vie;

Let Tityrus the Thracian numbers try, Outrival Orpheus in the sylvan reign, And emulate Arion on the main. Begin, my pipe, the sweet Maenalian strain.

Let land no more the swelling waves divide; Earth, be thou whelm'd beneath the boundless tide; Headlong from yonder promontory's brow I plunge into the rolling deep below.

Farewell, ye woods! farewell, thou flowery plain! Hear the last lay of a despairing swain. And cease, my pipe, the sweet Maenalian strain. Bring living waters from the silver stream,

With vervain and fat incense feed the flame: With this soft wreath the sacred altars bind, To move my cruel Daphnis to be kind, And with my phrensy to inflame his soul:

Charms are but wanting to complete the whole. Bring Daphnis home, bring Daphnis to my arms, O bring my long-lost love, my powerful charms. By powerful charms what prodigies are done!

Charms draw pale Cynthia from her silver throne; Charms burst the bloated snake, and Circe'sguests By mighty magic charms were changed to beasts, Bring Daphnis home, bring Daphnis to my arms,

O bring my long-lost love, my powerful charms. Three woollen wreaths, and each of triple dye, Three times about thy image I apply, Then thrice I bear it round the sacred shrine;

Uneven numbers please the powers divine. Bring Daphnis home, bring Daphnis to my arms, O bring my long-lost love, my powerful charms. Haste, let three colours with three knots be join'd,

And say, “Thy fetters, Venus, thus I bind.” Bring Daphnis home, bring Daphnis to my arms, O bring my long-lost love, my powerful charms. As this soft clay is harden'd by the flame,

And as this wax is soften'd by the same, My love that harden'd Daphnis to disdain, Shall soften his relenting heart again. Scatter the salted corn, and place the bays,

And with fat brimstone light the sacred blaze. Daphnis my burning passion slights with scorn, And Daphnis in this blazing bay I burn. Bring Daphnis home, bring Daphnis to my arms,

O bring my long-lost love, my powerful charms. As when, to find her love, an heifer roams Through trackless groves, and solitary glooms; Sick with desire, abandon'd to her woes,

By some lone stream her languid limbs she throws; There in deep anguish wastes the tedious night, Nor thoughts of home her late return invite: Thus may he love, and thus indulge his pain,

While I enhance his torments with disdain. Bring Daphnis home, bring Daphnis to my arms, O bring my long-lost love, my powerful charms. These robes beneath the threshold here I leave,

These pledges of his love, O Earth, receive. Ye dear memorials of our mutual fire, Of you my faithless Daphnis I require. Bring Daphnis home, bring Daphnis to my arms,

O bring my long-lost love, my powerful charms. These deadly poisons and these magic weeds, Selected from the store which Pontus breeds, Sage Moeris gave me; oft I saw him prove

Their sovereign power; by these, along the grove A prowling wolf the dread magician roams; Now gliding ghosts from the profoundest tombs Inspired he calls; the rooted corn he wings

And to strange fields the flying harvest brings. Bring Daphnis home, bring Daphnis to my arms, O bring my long-lost love, my powerful charms. These ashes from the altar take with speed,

And treading backwards cast them o'er your head Into the running stream nor turn your eye. Yet this last spell, though hopeless, let me try. But nought can move the unrelenting swain,

And spells, and magic verse, and gods are vain. Bring Daphnis home, bring Daphnis to my arms, O bring my long-lost love, my powerful charms. Lo, while I linger, with spontaneous fire

The ashes redden, and the flames aspire! May this new prodigy auspicious prove! What fearful hopes my beating bosom move! Hark! does not Hylax bark — ye powers supreme

Can it be real, or do lovers dream!— He comes, my Daphnis comes! forbear my charms; My love, my Daphnis flies to bless my longing arms.

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PASTORAL VIII. · James Beattie · Poetry Cove