Classic Poem

THE EIGHTH PASTORAL

OR, PHARMACEUTRIA

The mournful Muse of two despairing swains,
The love rejected, and the lovers' pains;
To which the salvage lynxes list'ning stood,
The rivers stood on heaps, and stopp'd the running flood;
The hungry herd their needful food refuse —
Of two despairing swains, I sing the mournful Muse.
Great Pollio! thou, for whom thy Rome prepares
The ready triumph of thy finish'd wars,
Whether Timavus or th' Illyrian coast,
Whatever land or sea thy presence boast;
Is there an hour in fate reserv'd for me,
To sing thy deeds in numbers worthy thee?
In numbers like to thine could I rehearse
Thy lofty tragic scenes, thy labor'd verse,
The world another Sophocles in thee,
Another Homer should behold in me.
Amidst thy laurels let this ivy twine:
Thine was my earliest Muse; my latest shall be thine.
Scarce from the world the shades of night withdrew,
Scarce were the flocks refresh'd with morning dew,
When Damon, stretch'd beneath an olive shade,
And wildly staring upwards, thus inveigh'd
Against the conscious gods, and curs'd the cruel maid:
" Star of the morning, why dost thou delay?
Come, Lucifer, drive on the lagging day,
While I my Nisa's perjur'd faith deplore —
Witness, ye pow'rs, by whom she falsely swore!
The gods, alas! are witnesses in vain;
Yet shall my dying breath to Heav'n complain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Maenalian strain.
" The pines of Maenalus, the vocal grove,
Are ever full of verse, and full of love:
They hear the hinds, they hear their god complain,
Who suffer'd not the reeds to rise in vam.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Maenalian strain.
" Mopsus triumphs; he weds the willing fair:
When such is Nisa's choice, what lover can despair!
Now griffons join with mares; another age
Shall see the hound and hind their thirst assuage,
Promiscuous at the spring. Prepare the lights,
O Mopsus, and perform the bridal rites.
Scatter thy nuts among the scrambling boys:
Thine is the night, and thine the nuptial joys.
For thee the sun declines: O happy swain!
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Maenalian strain.
" O, Nisa, justly to thy choice condemn'd!
Whom hast thou taken, whom hast thou contemn'd!
For him, thou hast refus'd my browsing herd,
Scorn'd my thick eyebrows, and my shaggy beard.
Unhappy Damon sighs and sings in vain,
While Nisa thinks no god regards a lover's pain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Maenalian strain.
" I view'd thee first, (how fatal was the view!)
And led thee where the ruddy wildings grew,
High on the planted hedge, and wet with morning dew.
Then scarce the bending branches I could win;
The callow down began to clothe my chin.
I saw; I perish'd; yet indulg'd my pain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Maenalian strain.
" I know thee, Love! in desarts thou wert bred,
And at the dugs of salvage tigers fed;
Alien of birth, usurper of the plains!
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Maenalian strains.
" Relentless Love the cruel mother led
The blood of her unhappy babes to shed.
Love lent the sword; the mother struck the blow;
Inhuman she; but more inhuman thou:
Alien of birth, usurper of the plains!
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Maenalian strains.
" Old doting Nature, change thy course anew,
And let the trembling lamb the wolf pursue;
Let oaks now glitter with Hesperian fruit,
And purple daffodils from alder shoot;
Fat amber let the tamarisk distil,
And hooting owls contend with swans in skill;
Hoarse Tit'rus strive with Orpheus in the woods,
And challenge fam'd Arion on the floods.
Or, O! let Nature cease, and Chaos reign!
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Maenalian strain.
" Let earth be sea; and let the whelming tide
The lifeless limbs of luckless Damon hide:
Farewell, ye secret woods, and shady groves,
Haunts of my youth, and conscious of my loves!
From yon high cliff I plunge into the main:
Take the last present of thy dying swain;
And cease, my silent flute, the sweet Maenalian strain. "
Now take your turns, ye Muses, to rehearse
His friend's complaints, and mighty magic verse:
" Bring running water; bind those altars round
With fillets, and with vervain strow the ground:
Make fat with frankincense the sacred fires,
To re-inflame my Daphnis with desires.
'T is done: we want but verse. — Restore, my charms,
My ling'ring Daphms to my longing arms.
" Pale Phaebe, drawn by verse, from heav'n descends;
And Circe chang'd with charms Ulysses' friends.
Verse breaks the ground, and penetrates the brake,
And in the winding cavern splits the snake:
Verse fires the frozen veins. — Restore, my charms,
My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms.
" Around his waxen image first I wind
Three woolen fillets, of three colors join'd;
Thrice bind about his thrice-devoted head,
Which round the sacred altar thrice is led.
Unequal numbers please the gods. — My charms,
Restore my Daphnis to my longing arms.
" Knit with three knots the fillets; knit 'em straight;
And say: " These knots to love I consecrate."
Haste, Amaryllis, haste. — Restore, my charms,
My lovely Daphnis to my longing arms.
" As fire this figure hardens, made of clay,
And this of wax with fire consumes away;
Such let the soul of cruel Daphnis be,
Hard to the rest of women, soft to me.
Crumble the sacred mole of salt and corn:
Next in the fire the bays with brimstone burn;
And, while it crackles in the sulphur, say,
" This I for Daphnis burn; thus Daphnis burn away!
This laurel is his fate." — Restore, my charms,
My lovely Daphnis to my longing arms.
" As when the raging heifer, thro' the grove,
Stung with desire, pursues her wand'ring love;
Faint at the last, she seeks the weedy pools,
To quench her thirst, and on the rushes rolls,
Careless of night, unmindful to return;
Such fruitless fires perfidious Daphnis burn,
While I so scorn his love! — Restore, my charms,
My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms.
" These garments once were his, and left to me,
The pledges of his promis'd loyalty,
Which underneath my threshold I bestow:
These pawns, O sacred earth, to me my Daphnis owe.
As these were his, so mine is he. — My charms,
Restore their ling'ring lord to my deluded arms.
" These pois'nous plants, for magic use design'd,
(The noblest and the best of all the baneful kind,)
Old Maeris brought me from the Pontic strand,
And cull'd the mischief of a bounteous land.
Smear'd with these pow'rful juices, on the plain,
He howls a wolf among the hungry train;
And oft the mighty negromancer boasts,
With these, to call from tombs the stalking ghosts,
And from the roots to tear the standing corn,
Which, whirl'd aloft, to distant fields is borne.
Such is the strength of spells. — Restore, my charms,
My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms.
" Bear out these ashes; cast 'em in the brook;
Cast backwards o'er your head; nor turn your look:
Since neither gods nor godlike verse can move,
Break out, ye smother'd fires, and kindle smother'd love.
Exert your utmost pow'r, my ling'ring charms;
And force my Daphnis to my longing arms.
" See, while my last endeavors I delay,
The waking ashes rise, and round our altars play!
Run to the threshold, Amaryllis, hark!
Our Hylas opens, and begins to bark.
Good Heav'n, may lovers what they wish believe!
Or dream their wishes, and those dreams deceive!
No more — my Daphnis comes: no more, my charms!
He comes, he runs, he leaps to my desiring arms. "