Read Ebook: The Poetical Works of James Beattie by Beattie James Dyce Alexander Contributor

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Those lays that led the listening herds along. And if the face be true I lately view'd, Where calm and clear th' uncurling ocean stood, I lack not beauty, nor could'st thou deny, That even with Daphnis I may dare to vie. O deign at last amid these lonely fields To taste the pleasures which the country yields; With me to dwell in cottages resign'd, To roam the woods, to shoot the bounding hind; With me the weanling kids from home to guide To the green mallows on the mountain side; With me in echoing groves the song to raise, And emulate even Pan's celestial lays. Pan taught the jointed reed its tuneful strain, Pan guards the tender flock, and shepherd swain. Nor grudge, Alexis, that the rural pipe So oft has stain'd the roses of thy lip: How did Amyntas strive thy skill to gain! How grieve at last to find his labour vain! Of seven unequal reeds a pipe I have, The precious gift which good Damoetas gave; "Take this," the dying shepherd said, "for none Inherits all my skill but thou alone." He said; Amyntas murmurs at my praise, And with an envious eye the gift surveys. Besides, as presents for my soul's delight, Two beauteous kids I keep bestreak'd with white, Nourish'd with care, nor purchas'd without pain; An ewe's full udder twice a day they drain. These to obtain oft Thestylis hath tried Each winning art, while I her suit denied; But I at last shall yield what she requests, Since thy relentless pride my gifts detests. Come, beauteous boy, and bless my rural bowers, For thee the nymphs collect the choicest flowers; Fair Nais culls amid the bloomy dale The drooping poppy, and the violet pale, To marygolds the hyacinth applies, Shading the glossy with the tawny dyes: Narcissus' flower with daffodil entwin'd, And cassia's breathing sweets to these are join'd. With every bloom that paints the vernal grove, And all to form a garland for my love. Myself with sweetest fruits will crown thy feast; The luscious peach shall gratify thy taste, And, chestnut brown The myrtle wreath'd with laurel shall exhale A blended fragrance to delight thy smell. Ah Corydon! thou rustic, simple swain! Thyself, thy prayers, thy offers all are vain. How few, compar'd with rich Iolas' store, Thy boasted gifts, and all thy wealth how poor! Wretch that I am! while thus I pine forlorn, And all the livelong day inactive mourn, The boars have laid my silver fountains waste, My flowers are fading in the southern blast.-- Fly'st thou, ah foolish boy, the lonesome grove? Yet gods for this have left the realms above. Paris with scorn the pomp of Troy survey'd, And sought th' Idaean bowers and peaceful shade, In her proud palaces let Pallas shine; The lowly woods, and rural life be mine. The lioness all dreadful in her course Pursues the wolf, and he with headlong force Flies at the wanton goat, that loves to climb The cliff's steep side, and crop the flowering thyme; Thee Corydon pursues, O beauteous boy: Thus each is drawn along by some peculiar joy. Now evening soft comes on; and homeward now From field the weary oxen bear the plough. The setting Sun now beams more mildly bright, The shadows lengthening with the level light. While with love's flame my restless bosom glows. For love no interval of ease allows. Ah Corydon! to weak complaints a prey! What madness thus to waste the fleeting day! Be rous'd at length; thy half-prun'd vines demand The needful culture of thy curbing hand. Haste, lingering swain, the flexile willows weave, And with thy wonted care thy wants relieve. Forget Alexis' unrelenting scorn, Another love thy passion will return.

The chief excellency of this poem consists in its delicacy and simplicity. Corydon addresses his favourite in such a purity of sentiment as one would think might effectually discountenance the prepossessions which generally prevail against the subject of this eclogue. The nature of his affection may easily be ascertained from his ideas of the happiness which he hopes to enjoy in the company of his beloved Alexis.

The scene of this pastoral is a grove interspersed with beech-trees; the season, harvest.

Vaccinium yielded a purple colour used in dying the garments of slaves, according to Plin. 1. xvi. c. 28.

MENALCAS, DAMOETAS, PALAEMON.

MENALCAS.

To whom belongs this flock, Damoetas, pray: To Meliboeus?

DAMOETAS.

No; the other day The shepherd AEgon gave it me to keep.

MENALCAS.

Ah still neglected, still unhappy sheep! He plies Neaera with assiduous love, And fears lest she my happier flame approve; Meanwhile this hireling wretch Defrauds his master, and purloins his gains, Milks twice an hour, and drains the famish'd dams, Whose empty dugs in vain attract the lambs.

DAMOETAS.

Forbear on men such language to bestow. Thee, stain of manhood! thee full well I know. I know, with whom--and where-- And how the goats beheld, then browsing near, The shameful sight with a lascivious leer.

MENALCAS.

No doubt, when Mycon's tender trees I broke, And gash'd his young vines with a blunted hook.

DAMOETAS.

Or when conceal'd behind this ancient row Of beech, you broke young Daphnis' shafts and bow, With sharpest pangs of rancorous anguish stung To see the gift conferr'd on one so young; And had you not thus wreak'd your sordid spite, Of very envy you had died outright.

MENALCAS.

Gods! what may masters dare, when such a pitch Of impudence their thievish hirelings reach: Did I not, wretch , Did I not see you Damon's goat ensnare? Lycisca bark'd; then I the felon spy'd, And "Whither slinks yon sneaking thief?" I cried. The thief discover'd straight his prey forsook, And skulk'd amid the sedges of the brook.

DAMOETAS.

That goat my pipe from Damon fairly gain'd; A match was set, and I the prize obtain'd. He own'd it due to my superior skill, And yet refus'd his bargain to fulfil.

MENALCAS.

DAMOETAS.

Boasts are but vain. I'm ready, when you will, To make a solemn trial of our skill. I stake this heifer, no ignoble prize; Two calves from her full udder she supplies, And twice a day her milk the pail o'erflows; What pledge of equal worth will you expose?

MENALCAS.

Ought from the flock I dare not risk; I fear A cruel stepdame, and a sire severe, Who of their store so strict a reckoning keep, That twice a day they count the kids and sheep. But, since you purpose to be mad to-day, Two beechen cups I scruple not to lay, The labour'd work of fam'd Alcimedon. Rais'd round the brims by the engraver's care The flaunting vine unfolds its foliage fair; Entwin'd the ivy's tendrils seem to grow, Half-hid in leaves its mimic berries glow; Two figures rise below, of curious frame, Conon, and--what's that other sage's name, Who with his rod describ'd the world's vast round, Taught when to reap, and when to till the ground? At home I have reserv'd them unprofan'd, No lip has e'er their glossy polish stain'd.

DAMOETAS.

Two cups for me that skilful artist made; Their handles with acanthus are array'd; Orpheus is in the midst, whose magic song Leads in tumultuous dance the lofty groves along. At home I have reserv'd them unprofan'd, No lip has e'er their glossy polish stain'd. But my pledg'd heifer if aright you prize, The cups so much extoll'd you will despise.

MENALCAS.

These arts, proud boaster, all are lost on me; To any terms I readily agree. You shall not boast your victory to-day, Let him be judge who passes first this way: And see the good Palaemon! trust me, swain, You'll be more cautious how you brag again.

DAMOETAS.

Delays I brook not; if you dare, proceed; At singing no antagonist I dread. Palaemon, listen to th' important songs, To such debates attention strict belongs.

PALAEMON.

Sing, then. A couch the flowery herbage yields; Now blossom all the trees, and all the fields; And all the woods their pomp of foliage wear, And Nature's fairest robe adorns the blooming year. Damoetas first th' alternate lay shall raise: Th' inspiring Muses love alternate lays.

DAMOETAS.

Jove first I sing; ye Muses, aid my lay; All Nature owns his energy and sway; The Earth and Heavens his sovereign bounty share, And to my verses he vouchsafes his care.

MENALCAS.

With great Apollo I begin the strain, For I am great Apollo's favourite swain: For him the purple hyacinth I wear, And sacred bay to Phoebus ever dear.

DAMOETAS.

The sprightly Galatea at my head An apple flung, and to the willows fled; But as along the level lawn she flew, The wanton wish'd not to escape my view.

MENALCAS.

I languish'd long for fair Amyntas' charms, But now he comes unbidden to my arms, And with my dogs is so familiar grown, That my own Delia is no better known.

DAMOETAS.

I lately mark'd where midst the verdant shade Two parent-doves had built their leafy bed; I from the nest the young will shortly take, And to my love an handsome present make.

MENALCAS.

Ten ruddy wildings, from a lofty bough, That through the green leaves beam'd with yellow glow I brought away, and to Amyntas bore; To-morrow I shall send as many more.

DAMOETAS.

Ah the keen raptures! when my yielding fair Breath'd her kind whispers to my ravish'd ear! Waft, gentle gales, her accents to the skies, That gods themselves may hear with sweet surprise.

MENALCAS.

What though I am not wretched by your scorn? Say, beauteous boy, say can I cease to mourn, If, while I hold the nets, the boar you face, And rashly brave the dangers of the chase.

DAMOETAS.

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