NOTES ON DRYDEN's VIRGIL. In a Letter to a Friend. With an ESSAY on the same Poet. By Mr. MILBOURNE.

Arma virum—Nonne hoc spumosum & cortice pingui?
Vt Ramale Vetus praegrandi subere coctum.
Pers. Sat. 1.

Thus Translated by Mr. Dryden:

Friend— What if I bring
A Nobler Verse? Arms and the Man I sing.
Pers. Why name you Virgil with such Fops as these?
He's truely great, and must for ever please:
Not Fierce, but Awful is his Manly Page;
Bold is his Strength, but Sober is his Rage.
Caedimus inque vicem praebemus cura Sagittis.

LONDON, Printed for R. Clavill, at the Peacock, over against Fetter-lane-end, in Fleetstreet, 1698.

NOTES ON DRYDEN's VIRGIL. In a Letter to a Friend.

SIR,

WHen the late Translation of Virgil first appear'd in Public, you de­sir'd my Thoughts of it: The Task was not ingrateful; for tho I never had any great Opinion of Mr. Dryden's Performances of that kind, yet I had so great a Respect for Virgil, as made every thing which might endenizen him, acceptable to me: I set therefore upon reading the Translation pre­sently, and cast my Observations on it into Writing: But meeting with many Avocati­ons, of which you are not ignorant, I have [Page 4] had since no Leisure to look over or compleat them. Being at last Master of a little, I send them you; of what Weight they may ap­pear to the Few, Time will shew.

And here, in the first place, I must needs own Iacob Tonson's Ingenuity to be greater than the Translator's, who, in the Inscription of his fine Gay in the Front of the Book, calls it very honestly Dryden's Virgil, to let the Reader know, that this is not that Virgil so much admired in the Augustaean Age, an Au­thor whom Mr. Dryden once thought Un­translatable, but a Virgil of another Stamp, of a courser Allay; a silly, impertinent, non­sensical Writer, of a various and uncertain Style, a meer Alexander Ross, or some body inferiour to him; who could never have been known again in the Translation, if the Name of Virgil had not been bestow'd upon him in large Characters in the Frontispiece and in the Running Title. Indeed, there's scarce the Magni Nominis Umbra to be met with in this Translation, which being fairly intima­ted by Iacob, he needs add no more, but Si Populus vult decipi decipiatur.

But Mr. Dryden himself, after some little v [...]litations and odd Complements bestow'd on my Lord Clifford and the E. of Chesterfield, shews his Triarii, and in a large Battle, with a Front of extraordinary Length, but not very Deep, in his Address to my Lord Marquis of Norman­by; Mr. Dryden knew he had to do with a Critic of the First Rate in that Noble Lord; [Page 5] That he perfectly understood the Author, and his Translation, and therefore try'd to tyre him so with a very familiar indeed, but te­dious and confus'd Epistle, as might, if possi­ble, prevent his looking more nicely into the Translation: and doubtless if that Noble Lord had patience to read over such a Volume of Impertinence, Mr. Dryden might justly give him leave to damn all the rest of the Book.

It may perhaps be worth the while to ex­amine that Epistle a little, to see what Thoughts Mr. Dryden in it has of his own Performances, and the Intellectuals of others; tho a Man must be very carefull of his Move­ments, since a dreadfully barbarous, and un­natural Postscript lyes behind in Ambuscade, and Heaven knows how many little Scribblers have fallen into the Hands of those merciless Monsters, to the perpetual Terror of such unthinking presumptuous Creatures. However I'le March as warily as I can, and being forewarn'd, may be perhaps forearm'd too, till I have gone through what I design'd, and you expected from me.

After some Discourse of the Nature of an E­pic Poem, He tells us, as he says, from Bossu, That Statius had a mind to try his Strength with Virgil on a particular Subject, as Funeral Games, as Virgil had with Homer: I have not Boss [...] by me, but if he talks so, he mistakes. Statius never pretended to come up to Virgil, much less to Wrestle a Fall with him in Heroics. Tu ne Divinum Aeneida tenta, sed longe sequere, [Page 6] & vestigia semper adora, was more agreeable to his Modesty. He might imitate Virgil without incurring the Name of that Capa­neus of a Poet, which perhaps, may pass for a fine Thought, but indeed is Nonsence; nothing but Lightning could hinder Capaneus from en­tring Thebes in spight of all their Gods. Pray what hindred Statius from mateing Virgil? And Virgil can scarce be said to borrow any thing from Homer in this case, since his Games were of another Nature as 'twas fit they should have been, only his were Funeral Games as well as those of Homer, and might have been so, tho he had never read the Gre­cians Poems.

After a long Story about the Epic and Dra­matic Poem, especially the Tragedy, He closes his Paragraph, with a Character of his own Tragedies, tho he introduces it with a Re­flection on the Lord Orrery, what ever that is, the rest is true on certain Experience. We can believe Achilles or Aeneas routed Armies in Ho­mer, or Virgil. But, Ne Hercules contra duos in the Drama. This is coming to Confession for Almanzor. Afterwards He tells some more Truths of Himself, such as may perhaps make him a Hero, but of no perfect Virtue; How­ever He's a Native of Parnassus, and bred up in the Study of its Fundamental Laws. Now if I'm not mistaken those are Monarchical, but Mr. D— since he received Mr. M—es stamp is of another Clan, a mere Renegado from Monarchy, Poetry, and good Sense. But let him [Page 7] praise himself, while we wonder at his Wri­tings, and conclude with himself, That All are not Heroic Poets, I add, Nor fit to Translate them, who have assum'd that lofty Title in Antient or Modern Ages, or have been so esteem­ed by their partial or ignorant Admirers.

They are not to be rank'd among the three whom I have nam'd, This passage is some­what obscure, for whether he means Homer, Virgil, and Tasso, or Tasso, Spencer, and Milton, or speaks of three where he had nam'd but two, only to burlesque Scripture, may be disputed. But why was not Mr. Cowley nam'd as well as Spencer, or Milton, since Spencer's Fairy Queen is no more finish'd than Mr. Cowley's Davideis, I know those who have little of their own, condemn the Superfluity of his Wit, the Reason is their Unhappiness, not His? Those who have Wit may use it, and those who want it may be Angry: But I'd sooner yield to my Lord Bishop of Rochester's Character of that Beginning of the Davideis, That It's a bet­ter instance and beginning of a Divine Poem than he had ever yet seen in any Language, than submit to the Censorious Ignorance of our latter Scriblers.

A Poet cannot speak too plain on the Stage— I'm afraid then a great many fine words in the Conquest of Granada, must be lost, such as Vivarambla, Mirador, Escapade &c. which may create some difficulties to Unhispanioliz'd Readers.

[Page 8]That the Moral of the Aeneis is less Noble than that of the Ilias, I know no Reason to grant, That union among Confederates, or Lit­tle States, is necessary for the their support, and for their compassing any great or generous De­signs, is a great Truth, and made good by the Ilias, is own'd, That Piety to the Gods, Reverence to Parents, exact Iustice, and pru­dent Valour are necessary and effectual to car­ry Men thro Difficulties, and as Noble a Truth and as clearly made out by the Aeneis, and is its great Moral must be own'd too. That the Ro­mans from thence should make an Inference, That they could not be happier than by a quiet Sub­mission to the Conduct and Government of a Prince in whom all these Qualifications met, was reason­able; it was what the Poet design'd, and what Augustus might have cause to value the Poem for, and, supposing it the great Moral, How comes Obedience to an excellent Prince to be a requisite inferior to that of Unity among little Confederates? Why should it be less Noble in an Englishman to be Loyal and Faithful to William the III. than for the seven Provinces to be true to their Uniting Leagues, in Opposition to the Spaniard, or the Princes of Germany a­gainst the Monarch of France? Tho we own Mr. D. may be a Republican now, it's but agreeable to his Character; from the Begin­ning he was an [...], and I doubt not but he'ell continue so to the end of the Chapter; but his Argumeut to prove Virgil such, is as ridiculous as a Man could wish. [Page 9] The Verse out of the 8th Eneid proves it not Secretosque pios &c, (for so it should be writ­ten) Augustus himself would have Honour'd Cato for his severe Virtue; but neither Virgil nor any other Wise Man would have admir'd him for his mistaken Republicanism; and had Virgil been suspected for such Principles, the very suspition would have ruin'd what Mr. D. makes the great Moral of the Poem. But Virgil is not the only Person on whom Mr. D. has endeavour'd to fix a Scandalous Cha­racter.

For the Cause of Religion is but a modern Mo­tive to Rebellion, invented by the Christian Priest­hood refining on the Heathen. This is malici­ous enough, and would have been an Inven­tion becoming Mr. Dryden's Wit, had he been unhappily admitted into Holy Orders; tho for ought I know, his very Christianity may be questionable. But I'm afraid, Mr. D.'s a lit­tle out in his Chronology. His old Friend Lucretius tells him, Religio peperit scelerata at­que impia facta, and might not Rebellion be reckon'd among such kind of Actions, if he questions it, I'll shew him some Instances of Rebellions under the pretence of Religion before Christianity was heard of; and since then, I have never heard of any sort of Christians, who have turn'd Religion into Rebellion, and Faith into Faction, but those of the Church of Rome, and their spawn of the Separation. Our Republicans are generally Atheists, and there­fore tho they are as ready for a Rebellion as [Page 10] Heart could wish, it can't be said to be under Pretence of Religion.

He being murder'd by his own Son. I won­der where Mr. Dryden met with that fine Piece of History? How many Sons had Iu­lius Caesar? And by which of his Wives had He this Barbarian of a Son who murdered Him? I have heard indeed, that when Bru­tus struck him, he cry'd out [...]. Cae­sar had been us'd to call him Son familiarly, and out of Kindness, but no body ever said He was Caesar's own Son: Now it's one of the Fundamental Laws of Parnassus to write True History. Therefore, if Mr. D. attempt any more,

—Pimplaeum ascendere mentem
Musae furcillis praecipitem ejicient.

It would be a great Kindness to the World to give a good Evidence of the Truth of Virgil's Desire that his Aeneids should be burnt. I don't remember any of his Contemporaries mention­ing it; and Sulpitius's Epigram, and those Verses fastned on Augustus, and the Story in Donatus are not exact enough to build our Credit upon in the Case.

The Poetical Revenge he talks of was only fit for his Observation; a Critic would have been asham'd of it. Among Rowers, or Ra­cers, or Archers, or Players at Whorlbats, if that Word may be used as English for the La­tine Caestus, some must have been worsted; but Virgil endeavours to represent their Case tenderly; and either some extraordinary Mis­fortune, [Page 11] or some Machine is brought in to ex­cuse the Looser; which needed not, had he made them such out of pique. Thus Dares was a Terror to every one, and could have been beaten by none but Entellus, who was a Match for a Demigod.

It's possible for a Courtier not to be a Knave, is a great Discovery, and an extraordinary Condescention. But what a Happiness is it, that Mr. D. can speak so freely as no Dutch Commentator could? Poor Scoundrels, silly illiterate Fellows they! What were the Hein­sius's and Emmenessius's to Mr. Dryden? But one Poet may judge of another by himself. Ex­cellent! Poet Squab, endued with Poet Maro's Spirit by a wonderful Metempsychosis, yet just before Virgil was no Knave. It was an ugly croaking kind of Vermin which would need swell to the Bulk of an Ox. He who'd burn a Collection of Mr. D's Works every Year to the Manes of Virgil, would be as just as He who sacrific'd a Statius to Him: I'm sure they'd blush, if Souls were capable of it, at the Scandalous Parallel; but He can speak what the French durst not. Yet would not a French Army, with the P. of W. at the Head of it, be very welcome to Mr. D. and, without doubt, they'd make us all Free Subjects presently.

Aeneas could not pretend to be Priam's Heir by Lineal Succession. Heir, to what? Did He pretend to reign at Troy, to set up again for the Command of all Asia? No, but He, and a few more, advis'd by the Gods to put them­selves [Page 12] under his Command, went to seek their Fortunes in another Country, from whence, tho' the Trojans had descended, God knows when, yet Priam, nor any Heir of his, had any thing to do there: But Mr. D. must be squinting at a Prince, who had no great Opi­nion of his Merit, and therefore gave the Law­rel to another; and thus the Vengeance He de­fers is not forgotten. Yet, now I think on't, why should not Aeneas be Priam's Heir, since Mr. D. tells us in the very next Page, That He married the Heiress of the Crown. But how could that be, when here he observes, that Helenus and Atys Priam's Son and Grandson were still living? But these Great Wits have commonly very bad Memories, and must now and then, to throw dirt at Princes, or to wreak their Teen, be allowed to talk a little Non-sense.

It was not for Nothing that Virgil made the Office of High Priest vacant by the Death of Pan­theus for his Hero to succeed in it. Of this great Discovery Mr. D. says, If Commentators have not taken notice, he's sure they ought to have done it. Now I'm afraid Mr. D.'s a little too confident here; and I durst adventure much, that Virgil, that most Iudicious of Poets, had no such Thought in his Head: He says in­deed, in the Person of Hector appearing to him in the Vision, Sacra suosque tibi commendat Roma Penates; and he tells us further of He­ctor, that presently after these Words, Mani­bus vittas, Vestamque potentem Aeternumque [Page 13] adytis effert penetralibus ignem. If by this Ae­neas was made the Pontifex Maximus, it was not in the room of Pantheus, for He was yet living, and Aeneas meets Him soon after, and from him receives the lamentable Account of Simon's Villany and Troy's Ruine; and Pantheus was then flying with his Gods and his Ne­phew to seek for Shelter; Pantheus then turns again, as it should seem, with Aeneas and o­thers to try their utmost to drive off the Ene­my; and Pantheus is killed-afterwards, in the very medley of War, when Aeneas had no time to look after his Gods; nor do we find him ever seeking for them; but when he returns home to carry off his Family, Anchises bears the Gods left at Home by Hector in the Vision before, along with them in their last Flight. Besides, Pantheus was particularly the Priest of Apollo, and not greater than Laocoon before, who was Neptune's Priest, of great Interest and Authority, and therefore made an Exam­ple of by angry Minerva; but Augustus, for whose Sake this deep Discovery was made, was the Chief Priest of all, not devoted to any one, but presiding over the Religious Ceremonies of all the Gods, and was no more Aeneas his Heir in this Office, than Aeneas had been the Heir of Pantheus.

But Virgil makes Diomede give him a high­er Character for Strength and Courage. A high­er Character than whom? It must be than Hector: Now Segrais was much wiser to o­mit this Observation, than Mr. D. to make it; [Page 14] for Virgil says no such thing; for tho they were Ambo animis ambo insignes praestantibus armis. That expression makes them not equal by any means, two Men may be very Brave, very Valiant, and yet one more so than the other; and that very Addition of Hic pietate Prior; was but to bring the bal­lance even, that Aeneas's piety, might make up the defects of his Fortitude, when com­par'd with Hector. And it could not at all become Virgil to contradict Homer, who tho he made Aeneas the second Champion of the Trojans, yet shews him every where inferior to Achilles, Ajax, and Diomede; and even Hector himself was thought too weak for any of them. Diomede therefore only comple­ments Aeneas, not as an over match for him­self, but as a really great Man, whom they'd find it very hard to equal, tho he were infe­riour to one who was too hard not only for Venus, but for Mars himself.

Mr. D. next gives us ten Lines of Diomedes Speech, but prudently tells his Lord the Rea­son why he omitted the Translation. Because he had no Reason to desire he should see that, and the Original together. And this was a Favour he ought to have beg'd of every Man, for never, certainly was such an Original so bar­bar [...]usly abus'd before. Yet Mr. D. thinks, He has not succeded ill in the version of those Lines: this is his old Distemper, admiring and glassing himself in the Mirror of his own [Page 15] Rhymes; but let us consider a little how he really has succeeded.

We met in Fight, I know him to my cost; Virgil says not so, nor could Diomede, they had met indeed in Battle,Iliad [...]. but Diomede got no hurt, only Aeneas was struck down with a Massive Stone, and had dy'd under Diomedes Hand, had not his Mother luckily sav'd him, this then was an absurd Addition without Sense or Reason.

With what a whirling force his Lance he tost. Did ever any one talk so before? Tossing in­timates no extraordinary Violence in a thing which is aim'd at a Mark, as a Lance is in Battel; Tossing in a Blanket, which the Tran­slator deserves, indeed is somewhat a violent Motion upward, but downward it's very na­tural, as honest Sanco would have inform'd him; Tossing and Hurling, are very different, one infers Force and Rapidity, the other only a looser and more careless Impulse.

Heavens what a Spring was in his Arm to throw! Is too Philosophical for an old Gre­cian General, and no way fit for a grave, old Prince, to say the Ambassadors of another, nor is it in Virgil.

And rose at every blow: Wonderfully He­roical, and somewhat like honest Tyrrheus the Block-River.

Two more his match in might. Is false Grammar.

They would have chang'd the Fortune of the Fight. As if there had been but one Battle [Page 16] during the Siege of Troy; or as if that were a good Expression for the Fortune of the War.

The War protracted, and the Siege delay'd. Is very mean, and a little mistaken, the taking of Troy was delay'd indeed by Hector and Aeneas, but not the Siege.

Both brave alike, and equal in Command: Is intolerable, Aeneas was but a kind of Lieu­tenant General under Hector, not equal in Command with him, tho I find Homer calling Aeneas, [...], and that before the Death of Priam.

In pious Reverence to the Gods excell'd. Mr. D. here forgets what he had rightly observ'd in his Dedication, That Piety in Aeneas was of a more extensive Importance, than only to have relation to the Gods, for it contains the whole Duty of Man towards his Country, and his Relations. Again, Aeneas was inferior in the Field to Hector, witness Hector's own Vi­sionary Words to him. Si Troja dextrâ De­fendi possent etiam hâc defensa fuissent, meaning his own, which if not true, had been in­decent for the Ghost of so modest a Man as Hector was.

This now is Mr. D's Great Success, Mr. Ogilby's must appear much better to an Im­partial Reader, and what if that passage were thus Translated;

We too have try'd his Iavelins distant force,
And Hand to Hand have stopt his dreadful course,
We've seen how high he'ed lift his mighty Shield,
And how his Spear like Whirl-winds rak'd the Field,
[Page 17]And had the Trojan spacious Bounds supply'd
Two more like him for daring Valour try'd.
War then had chang'd his Scene, and Greece had mourn'd
In ruins, by the Trojan Arms o'erturn'd,
The War was long, the tenth sad Year at last,
On our Victorious Brows the Garland plac'd.
Great Hector, Great Aeneas stop'd the Tyde,
They two so long our utmost Force defy'd;
Both brave, and both for Martial Deeds Re­noun'd,
The latter more with God-like goodness Crown'd.

But an immediate Revelation dispenses with all duties of Morality: This is one of those ex­cellent Doctrines Mr. D. would have propaga­ted in the Church, had he once crept into Orders, his Divinity, and his Law is much alike, and were it sit to mingle Sacred Matters with his wretched stuff, the case of the Israe­lites would by no means fit his turn.

Or the honesty of his Hero would be ill defend­ed: It's wondrous Honesty indeed to be true to Whoring. Aeneas had trespassed against Morality, and because at Heavens warning, he would not persist in it, he was scarce Ho­nest; now methinks, he represents a Penitent, who's not so far master of himself, but that he'll still hanker after folly, and with much ado, and Heavens warning and assistance, Subdues his Sensual Inclinations; but what's this to Mr. D.

[Page 18] But possession having cool'd his Love as it in­creas'd hers. Virgil hints at no such thing; He represents his Hero pleas'd with his too amorous Queen, busy both as a Husband, and a Lover, as well as a Statesman, or Magistrate: Not to be chang'd, but by a Divine Command, and even then Animum multo labefactus a­more; so no natural mutability could have diverted his Affections, only pitying Heaven put a full stop to them.

I think I may be Iudge of this, because I Translated both, i. e. Ovid's Epistle of Dido to Aeneas, and Virgil's Episode; Very great in­deed! and it may be they are Translated a like, and that must evidence the wonderful Acumen of this assuming Judge. But it would be well if Mr. D. could ascertain the time or date of Ovids's Epistle, and demon­strate that the Aeneis was written before the Epistolae Heroidum; for if he fails here, Ovid was not so much out in his Measures as our Translator imagines.

Mercury calls Aeneas, not only a Husband, but a fond Husband. Here Mr. D's Memory fail'd him again.

Virgil makes the Intrigue between Dido, and Aeneas a Marriage, to make way for the di­vorce. This is one of Mr. D's Mysteries Re­veal'd; Toland himself could not have clear'd 'em better. But where, in the name of Folly, is the Divorce? If this be to be call'd one, there are many of our Modern Heroes of Mr. D's [Page 19] Cut, who have forsaken their Wives, but can get no Livia's, tho they may Iulia's.

Ac veluti magno in Populo, &c. This is the first Similitude which Virgil makes in this Poem, True; but his Translator whose Wit is the ve­ry Quintessence of decency, has help'd him to another. Then as an Eagle gripes his trem­bling Game, &c. and this where, according to his own Rules, it was by no means pro­per.

If I desir'd to appear more Learned than I am, it had been as easie for me to have taken their Objections, and Solutions, as it is for a Country Parson to take the Expositions of the Fathers out of Iunius, and Tremellius. Very smart on my word! Mr. Bays has a spite to a Country Parson, because refus'd to be one, and it's plain he has met somewhere with the names of Iunius and Tremellius.

How came the Cuisses to be worse temper'd than the rest of his Armour? It may be they were not, but they had joynts, which an Arrow's pile might find, or the wound might be more inward, this then needed no de­fence; nor is the Story of Virgil's designing his Aeneis to the Fire any more credible, than Maximus Planudes's account of Aesops de­formity.

That [...] which they shed. This plainly shews how fit Mr. D—n may be to Translate Homer, a mistake in a single Letter might fall on the Printer well enough, but this word for [...] must be the Error of the Au­thor; [Page 20] nor had he art enough to Correct it at the Press; This of the Gods, was so like our Common Blood, that it was not to be distin­guish'd from it, but by Name and Colour. The Name indeed, is no great matter, but the Colour methinks is very considerable; and Alexander thought so, when a wound having convinc'd him of the folly of his Flatterers, who had almost rais'd him into a conceit, that he was a God, he bad them view his Blood, and see if it were like that [...] which Homer attributes to his Deities.

Non me tua turbida virtus terrent ait, for Tur­bida terrent dicta ferox. This I should not have taken notice of, but that it's repeated again soon after. It may be Mr. D. had a­nother Copy, or thought to mend his Author, and how foolish must his Solemn Subintelligit appear to any one who reads the Text, Turnus had not valued the haughty words of Aeneas at all; he had too much of the Hero in him, but the Gods, and Iupiter himself against him, were enough to daunt the boldest.

Iupiter ipse duas, &c. Mr. D's Critical Translation of Quem damnet labor, is as silly here, as in the Place he refers to, not but that others have made the same wise Interpretation, as well as he, but why may not those Lines bear this Metaphrase.

Now Jove on high the Sacred Balance hung,
I'th' Scales the Lots of both the Champions slung.
That Heaven might read the last decrees of Fate,
And whom rough War would sink with Deaths eternal weight.

[Page 21] I say, Turnus not only suffer'd her to carry him out of danger, but consented to it. For this, Mr. D. appeals to Turnus's words, which im­port no such thing, nor is the Supposition a­greeable to his Character. Turnus was almost distracted with the affront of that Phantome of Aeneas, with which Iuno had carry'd him away before. And when Iuturna turn'd Charioteer, she threw Metiscus out of the Box, and assum'd his shape, which had been need­less, but that she had no mind to be known to her Brother; and this was no extraordi­nary matter for a Goddess to do, if Turnus did but once turn his Head; but now at last by her ing lorious Management, he finds her, and declares his suspicion of the tricks she had plaid before, for the Agnovi means no more, but I had some apprehension, or jealousie of such a thing; for had he been certain of it, he could as easily have dismounted before, and doubt­less would have done it for his own Honour, his Mistresses security, and to avoid the Re­proaches of Drances.

I am the first Englishman perhaps, who made it his design to Copy him in his Numbers, his choice of Words, and his placing them for the sweetness of the Sound. Is boldly spoken, and doubtless e're long Dr. B—s will tell us, that his Address is as exactly design'd to co­py the purity, the simplicity, and elegance of Tul­ly; and I think, the Poet and Orator have suc­ceeded much alike; of which as to Mr. D. we shall have often occasion hereafter to take no­tice. [Page 22] But why should Mr. D. boast himself of having avoided the Caesura so much in translating, nay, in copying an Author, who added Gravity and Majesty to his own Works by a frequent, but judicious use of them. But thus Mr. D▪ boasts too in his Preface to his Translation of the First Book of Ovid's Meta­morphoses; and his Boast is just like that of School-boys, who think they have done a mighty Feat, if they have made a few Golden Verses. It's true, soft and easie Lines might become Ovid's Epistles, or his Art of Love; they might be so in the Metamorphoses to a Fault, for that Book is generally more noble and lofty. But Virgil, who is all Great and Majestic, who never descends to little things, nor goes big with Fooleries, requires Strength of Lines, Weight of Words, and Closeness of Ex­pression; not an ambling Muse, running on a Carpet Ground, and shod as lightly as a New-market Runner. And tho' we have a great many Consonants in our Language, yet withall we have such a Variety of Words Native and Adopted, or Tralatitious, that we may suit our Language to the Style and Matter of any Au­thor whatsoever, and may make Caesura's, if not affected, beautiful and delightsom, and that Roughness they give may advance and not di­minish Majesty.

The Italians are forc'd upon the Caesura once or twice in every Line. This is like the rest of Mr. D.'s Critical Observations; Caesura's are not unfrequent in that Language; but I dare [Page 23] engage to point to many whole Stanza's in Tasso, and some Hundreds of Lines which have none.

A Thousand Secrets of Versification he may learn from Virgil. True; but not from his Translator. Virgil is indeed the most abso­lute of Prophane Poets; but if He had not a better Picture drawn of Him than this done by Mr. D.'s Pencil, he'd soon lose his Repu­tation.

Whether the Aeneis took up Eleven Years of Virgil's time, or whether He thought it imper­fect, is a moot Point; but, whether Mr. D. wants Four Years or not to correct his, is none; for I cannot think his Wit so much more fluent than his Masters; however we see here the Canis Festinans made good; and if the Subscribers any of them were too pressing, He has fitted them as they deserved, with a Translation as absurd as their Importunity.

There is not, to the best of my remembrance, one Vowel gaping on another for want of a Cae­rura through the whole Poem. This made me open the Book at adventure, and Pages the 408, 9. I met with these two, Tell me, ye Trojans, for that Name you own— And what we seek of you, of us desired: And perhaps, A Heroic Poem, which Words begin this tedious Epistle, is not extremely Euphonical, tho' in Prose. But why may not such a thing be allow'd. Methinks Virgil's Et succus pecori & lac subducitur agnis. Victor apud rapidum Si­moenta sub Ilio alto. And Ovid's, O & de La­tio, [Page 24] O & de gente Sabina, and many more sound very well: And nothing's more com­mon in the Greek; nor does that in Tasso's first Stanza sound harshly, Molto egli opro col senno, & con la mano Molto soffri nel glorioso ac­quisto; nor is any thing commoner in French or Spanish: And whatever Mr. D. may think of it, some of as nice an Ear as himself can pass over such an Hiatus without complain­ing of the Discord.

Tho deep, yet clear, &c. And why may not others have observ'd both the Sweetness and the Reason of the Sweetness of that Cou­plet? Is Mr. D. the only Man of Ear? Or can't others observe the Elegance of the Antithe­ses, the easie sliding of one Syllable into another, and the Quantities of English Syllables: I must believe, that no Man living can teach him to make smooth well-running Verses, who has not a Musical Ear; unless Mr. D. or some like him, would give us a new English Parnassus, where he might have smooth Fragments, and nothing requir'd but Skill to tack 'em toge­ther. Certainly Mr. D. himself is not the smoothest of Poets, whatever he may value himself upon: I think my Lord Rochester was of that Opinion long since; and but that I have observed somewhat of his ungraceful Roughness elsewhere, I should think those,

And seven long Years th' unhappy wandring Train
Were toss'd by Storms, and scatter'd thro' the Main.

[Page 25] Which last Phrase is but Nonsense. And again,

O E'lus, for to thee the King of Heaven
The Power of Tempest, and of Winds has given,

were far from smooth or well-sounding Rhimes. But I'm perswaded my Lord Normanby was very kind to Mr. D. and the English World, if he over-rul'd the Poet's Itch of thrusting his Prosody out in Print; for he has so far sav'd his Credit and our Trouble.

The Alexandrine Line, which we call, tho' improperly, the Pindaric; tho' sillily, he means sure; for none who understood any thing of Pindaric Poetry, could call that the Pindaric Line in contradistinction to Lines of other Measures: And since Mr. Spencer uses it to close his Stanza, without any Thought of Pindarizing in it, why should Mr. Cowley's using it give it that Name now. Nor indeed does the Nature of a Pindaric Poem shew it self in the Irregularity of Measures, any more than a Chorus in Euripides, from the same Inequa­lity, should be called a Pindaric.

'Twas given to those who understand no better. Very civil! i. e. Mr. D. translated Virgil very foolishly for the sake of his foolish Readers. Thus he talks; yet I have heard some say, He did his best. I was loth to believe it. But how­ever, some Readers may understand the Im­pertinency of his Translations.

The Triumvir and Proscriber had descended to us in a more hideous Form, if the Emperor had not taken care to make Friends of Virgil and Horace. Well, I can't but tremble at our [Page 26] present King's Fate: Boast not, Great Prince, of all thy Martial Acquisitions; boast not of having given Check to the Grand Louis; talk not of Namure, nor Ireland reduced, nor pretend to Thanksgivings for a Glorious Peace, for the terrible Mr. Bays is disobliged! What an unlucky thing was it to give his Lawrel to a Shadwell or a Tate, whose drawn Pen is more fatal than that of Hipponax, and more terrible than a Luxemburg or Boufflers in the Head of a French veterane Army. Well, how his Majesty'll come off I know not, but

Occursare capro, cornu ferit ille, caveto.

Spencer wanted only to have read the Rules of Bossu. It's well if Virgil and Homer did not want 'em too; for it seems, if our French Criticks may be believ'd, neither of 'em had the luck to write a true Heroic Poem. Mr. D. us'd to talk in Days of Yore, of an Heroic Po­em to the Honour of Charles II. Had it ever been finished, doubtless Mr. Bossu's Rules would have appeared in every Line. It may be Sir R. B. had read 'em too, which gave so much Perfection to his late Heroic Underta­kings: But what will come of us, the poor Chiurma of the Empire of Parnassus, who have neither Knowledge nor a Genius?

Mr. Le Clerc has made it out, that David's Psalms were in as errant Rhime as they are tran­slated. Mr. Le Clerc's a Man of mickle Autho­rity with some; but his Discovery in that Point's far from new: The Psalms are some of 'em in Rhyme, some are not so; but where [Page 27] they are with, or without Rhyme, they are so far from that Meanness which Mr. D. would throw into their Character, that the meanest thing in the whole Sacred Book has more of true Poetic Fire in it, than ever He had from the Days of Oliver's Apotheosis, to those of Virgil in Macaronique.

He who can write well in Rhyme, may write better in Blank Verse. We shall know that, when we see how much better Dryden's Ho­mer will be than his Virgil.

Perhaps I have as little Reason to com­plain of the difficulty of Rhyming as any Man except Quarles or Withers. They then, with our Incomparable Translator, make a Triumvi­rate of Rhymers, and great Ones too, (if that Phrase may pass with us, which was con­demned in Ben Iohnson formerly.) But this extraordinary Facility is not so very apparent in Mr. D.'s Works, and I never heard he was a great Extempore Man.

I'm afraid I have mistaken Virgil's Sense more often and more grosly. Ne'er did Elvira make a truer Confession to her Spanish Friar. But how could one Poet mistake another so much. I'm afraid there was not so near a Relation between Virgil and Mr. D.'s Souls, as there was between Mr. D.'s and Mr. Oldham's. The Confession, whoever understands Virgil's Latin and Scheme, must acknowledge to be the Truth, the whole Truth, and nothing but the Truth. And so much must be said for the Honour of Mr. D.'s Veracity.

[Page 28] Sorti Pater aequs utrique. Ruaeus thinks the word Pater is to be referr'd to Evander. And Ru­aeus is right in his Judgment; for how could any Man in his right Senses, think Pal­las should tell Turnus of Ioves's impartiality, a whim quite contrary to the notions Antiqui­ty had of Fate. Fate might be impartial, tho it were not unconcern'd, for its not Partiality to determine a dubious Matter where Fate it self requires a determination in the case; and, according to Mr. D's precedent Declaration, Jove can't controul Fate; whence it's plain, that if Pater refers to Iupiter, it's very imper­tinent. Turnus had said nothing to Pallas of Iove, but wish'd his Father Evander had been present; and what more Noble Character could Pallas have given of his Father, than that the Honourable Victory, or the glorious death of his Son would be equally welcome News to him? And what could confirm Pallas's words more strongly than those of Evander, when he was brought home Dead?

Quod si immatura manebat
Fors natum, caecis Volscorum millibus ante
Ducentem in Latium Teneros cecidisse juvabit,

As for Mr. D's Criticism on the other Verse, it's La Cerda's Notion before, and it's of no great consequence whether he or Ser­vius be in the right.

I say nothing of Sir John Denham, Mr. Wal­ler, and Mr. Cowley, 'tis the utmost of my am­bition to be thought their Equal. Thus the poor Frog would swell himself into an Ox, had any [Page 29] of them, especially Mr. Cowley, undertaken this work, we had had Virgils sence and air running thro the whole, and the Work would have been known by every Reader, without the Advertisement of the Running Title, where now we have false Criticism, mistaken Sense, intolerable Omissions, absurd Accretions; and indeed any thing rather than Virgil. I own it's harder to Translate Virgil through, than to Translate a single Book; yet because Mr. D. throws down his Glove to challenge any one in the 4th, 6th, and 8th Pastoral, and the 1st and 4th Georgic, besides several Books of the Aeneïs; I have taken it up, and have Tran­slated the 4th Pastoral, and 1st Georgic, and the 1st Pastoral into the bargain, and leave it to Segrais 3d sort of Iudges, to determine who has Translated Virgil so far best.

Spencer, and Milton are nearest in English to Virgil, and Horace in the Latine. But which of them resembles Horace? Spencer aim'd at an Heroic Poem, and so did Milton, (tho neither of 'em with that success which might have been wish'd) but Horace never attempted such a thing as Mr. D. well ob­serves before; unless either of them be re­markable for that Curiosa Felicitas, formerly admir'd in Horace; but Mr. D. knows his own meaning well enough, tho I don't.

My chief Ambition is to please those Readers, who have discernment enough to prefer Virgil before any other Poet in the Latin Tongue. The Ambition was good, but never did any [Page 30] Man fail worse than our Translator, for no Man can admire Virgil who can't understand him, nor can any Man who understands him be pleased with Mr. D's. Translation.

The Mob Readers are but a sort of French Huguenots, or Dutch Boors. But how come these to be match'd together? Huguenots are so called with some regard to their Religion. A Gate would not have given them a Title more than Others who went often in and out at it, had not they in particular made it their way to their Publick Worship. But pray, what respect to that have Boors? If they have any, I must needs say, Mr. Dryden's a very fine Gentleman.

As we hold there is a middle State of Souls. We, that is, we of the Church of Rome; for our Translator pretends to suck the Teats of of that Milk-white Hind, if any. Mr. D. then believes a Purgatory, and, as in duty bound, should have taken most pains with the 6th Book of the Aeneis, since there's the ori­ginal Chart of that wonderful Place, and a better account of it, than those of all the Ro­man Champions together amount to; yet this Book is none of those he pretends to have suc­ceeded best in. Heaven send him a good deli­verance.

Many Paedagogues, at School, Tutors at the Universities, and Gentlemen's Governours in their Travels are the most positive Block-heads in the World. Well, it's time then, to pull down Schools to leave young Gentlemen to live at Random in [Page 31] our Universities, and abroad; or make Mr. D. School-Master, Tutor, and Governor Gene­ral to both Universities: What a glorious Ma­nager would he prove? Obscure Authors, and old worn out Monuments would be as Intelli­gible to him as Virgil or Homer, and one Page of his English Prosodia, would teach 'em more than our Vossius's or Busby's, our Preston's, or Ellye's, or our Lassels's, tho jumbled alltogether; and a little mooting upon the Magna Charta of Parnassus, under his Direction, would ruin all our Inns of Court for ever; but none's so bold as blind Bayard.

But not being of God, as a Wit said formerly, they could not stand. By this it's plain Mr. D. is no Wit; for one of true Wit would be asham'd to Ridicule Scripture; and I'm pretty confident, this present Work of Mr. D's is not of God; and for his Translation, the more a ju­dicious Reader studies it, the worse he'll like it, and every time he takes it up, he'll dis­cover some new Follies in it; nor indeed can any Applaud it now, or hereafter, but such as are born Vervecum in Patria crassoque sub aere. Whence I can only call it Impudence, not Innocence, or Conscience of merit which could make him Appeal to my Lord Marquiss of Normanby.

Virgil has given me the Example of Entellus. Mr. Waller had not lost his Poetic Fire at Mr. D's age, nor had the famous Cornaro, nor So­phocles, or Aeschylus. But wo to some little Skip-jack who dares stand in the heated old [Page 32] Champions way. Methinks, he looks like Colbrond swinging his heavy Club about his own Head, and threatning to sink poor Sir Guy at every stroke; well, I heartily pity the poor wretch; but if all his Teeth be dash­ed out for challenging such a demi Gorgon, who can help it! But if the air of the Country which produces Gold is never wholesome, there's some hope the old Spark may drop off, Poison'd by the Mercury of his own Brain, before the young Scoundrel be quite ruin'd.

It rarely happens that a Verse of Monosylla­bles sounds Harmoniously. Yet in one very Mo­dern Poem, I find no fewer than 4 as smooth as those he instances in, viz.

Scorn all the Thoughts of such, and spurn the Ground,
They saw them Storm vast Works which reach'd the Skies,
He saw you thro those Gates could force your way
In Wars rough Storms, and in the Calms of Love.

And I doubt not, but many hundreds of Lines made up of Monosyllables might be much more soft, and easie than those.

Some things I have omitted, and some too I have added of my own. But by what Autho­rity? A Man may Paraphrase, or a void a Literal Translation, and yet retain all the Au­thors Thoughts, and for Virgil, who has no false Thought in his whole Work, it's al­most Sacrilege to Abridge him; and for the [Page 33] Additions. Heaven knows they are such as discover their Author too well, so mean, so trifling, so unbecoming the Majesty of Virgil, that they must be very Flegmatic Readers, who can forgive him. He has given Virgil's pure Gold so base an Alloy, that Cromwell's Broad Pieces, with which he cheated the Dutch, were much more tolerable.

The Additions will seem (at least I have the Vanity to think so; and Mr. D.'s Vanity is not to be questioned) not stuck into him, but grow­ing out of him. For an Instance of this we need go no farther than that in the first Ae­neid, where Iuno says of Minerva

—Ipsa
Ver. 48.
Illum expirantem transfixo pectore flammas
Turbine corripuit, scopulo (que) infixit acuto.

Which Mr. D. thus Englishes:

Then as an Eagle gripes the trembling Game,
The Wretch yet Hissing with her Father's Flame,
She strongly seiz'd, and with a burning Wound
Transfix'd, and naked on a Rock she bound.

Meaning Ajax the Son of Oileus; which Non­sensical Fustian I'm perswaded none will say grew out of Virgil; whose Sense was more ho­nestly express'd before the Days of D.'s Virgil in that Couplet.

On pointed Rocks expiring Ajax dash'd,
His guilty flying Soul revenging Flames em­brac'd.

The Greeks, we know, were labouring many Hundreds of Years upon their Language before [Page 34] they brought it to Perfection. It may be so; but how does Mr. D. know it? How many Hundred Years was that Language cultivated before Homer's time, or that of Orpheus, or Linus, or Musaeus, of whom, if we have any Fragment, it's pure Greek; and we meet with nothing after Homer more polite than himself; tho' all the great Sophists and Orators were much his Iuniors. But a Man may be per­mitted to blunder in such things, who had never heard of Organs before St. Caecilia's time.

The Word Pater, for Example, signifies not on­ly a Father, but your Father, my Father, his or her Father, all in a word. From whence I'm convinc'd that some great Poets are as positive Blockheads as any little Paedagogue in the World: Pater signifies Father in general in­deed, but is appropriated to none but by meus, tuus, suus; and so Father in English by mine, thine, hers, &c. and where those Pronouns are not express'd, they are to be understood, and are not included in Pater.

The Thought concerning Ambergrease is very fine, and Mr. D. may pass for a Civet Cat, if he please, or a Catamountain, for me.

I thought fit to keep as near my Author as I could, without losing all his Graces. To en­deavour a Literal Translation might do so; but otherwise there's, to my Apprehension, more Danger of losing them by leaving him, than by keeping close to him.

[Page 35] I shall not be wholly without Praise, if in some sort I may be allowed, &c. Yes certainly, if you have copy'd Virgil's Clearness, Purity, Ea­siness, and Magnificence after a very ill sort; for sure he can't be so much a Self-Flatterer, as to pretend to have shadow'd any of those things. Nor can we imagine any more that Virgil with his own Original Faculties, had he liv'd now, or written in English, would have written as Mr. D. has done, than that he would have Father'd Maphaeus's Supplement, or Persius's Satyrs; and the very difference be­tween that Esteem the Translation of Virgil and the Original have had, the Poets still liv­ing, proves their intrinsic Value, since none but a Bavius, a Maevius, or Bathyllus carp'd at Virgil, and none but such unthinking or unlearned Vermin admire his Translator.

I am too much an Englishman to lose what my Ancestors have gained for me; i. e. Since ac­quaintance with such, whom he can never praise enough. Things are mightily alter'd with him since the Days of the Hind and Pan­ther, and the Defence of the Strong Box Papers. Thus Tempora mutantur.

Without being injurious to the Memory of our English Pindar. Quae supra nos nihil ad nos. Mr. Cowley's Genius was far above the Com­prehension of so little a thing as Mr. D. for Figures to be bold, and Metaphors violent in Pindaric, prov'd that Ours knew what it was to write like him of Thebes, of which his Reprover has no Idea: His Language, per­haps, [Page 36] was not so fine as he could have made it; but He had no Royal Salary, no Encourage­ment to make him so nice about Words, tho' He has fewer Improprieties, and abundantly more Sense and Wit than those who find fault with him; and had he met with an Augustus or Mecaenas, the English Virgil had scarce been inferiour to the yet unparallell'd Roman.

I am confident our Poet never meant to leave him, or any other such a Precedent, i. e. of He­mistics, or Half Verses. Now I am confident of the contrary; and there is so much Beauty in every one of them, (that only excepted which Mr. D. has instanced in) the Sense goes on with so full and strong a Spirit, and that very Abruptness gives it such an Empha­sis as is admirable and surprizing. Whether Homer ever left any such is more than Mr. D. knows; He had an Aristarchus to perfect and correct what He thought needed it, and who was fit for the Work he undertook. None durst pretend to the same for Virgil; he wan­ted no Sense, and he had no Equal. The Story of his designing his Aeneis for the Fire is idle, a Fiction of the Pseudo-Donatus, another Planu­des, more a Fabler than his pretended Aesop; nor do any of his Contemporaries mention any thing of it. Ovid, Propertius, Siliús, Martial Statius, Persius, mention it; the four last, tho' later, give it the Character of Divine and Excellent, but none wishes He had lived to per­fect it; and the Story of his compleating those two Hemistics in the 6th Aeneid, is as ridicu­lous; [Page 37] but all those Shams are of the same O­riginal; nay, what if we should stumble at, Quem tibi jam Troja? What if it was, Peperit florente Creusa? What if it was left so to express Andromache's Passion? When she came to men­tion her dear native City, Tears forbad her, and a true Sense of Decency forbad the Poet to finish that Sentence; and tho' she recovers her self to enquire of Iülus soon again; yet, a­gain too, at the lov'd Name of Hector she bursts into Tears, and can go no farther. This, to me, I must confess, signifies more than Dona­tus's Legend; and if Virgil's Half Verses are the Frogs and Serpents half kindled into Life (always allowing Equivocal Generation, which Mr. D. knows to a Tittle) Mr. D.'s full-lin'd Translation is the Lump of unform'd unanima­ted Mud.

The Leaders may be Heroes, but the Multitude must consist of common Men. Mr. D. would be very kind to point out to us his leading Verses. I make no doubt but they are Cap­tains over Hundreds, and Captains over Fifties, and very few Companies double Officer'd.

His Talk about the Difficulty of finding Words is Stuff, not worth regarding. Our English is now little, if at all inferiour to the Latin. But Mr. D. wanted an Opportunity to let his Patron know he had some notice of the Public Difficulties about Money.

For I think it is not so Sacred, as that not one Iota must be added nor diminished on pain of an Anathema. Mr. D. then confesses that Virgil's [Page 38] Text is not Scripture; but if it were, his Church has such Guides as have more than once adventured upon that Anathema, and he a true Republican, Son of a Monarchical Church, has imitated them, having given his Author. Procrustes's Law, and crop'd and stretch'd him every where as he thought fit.

There is a Beauty of Sound in some Latin words, which is wholly lost in the French; I own it, but not so much in the English, our Language now can express Matters both with Majesty and softness; and I make no doubt, after all Mr. D's boast of his gift that way; a Man with much less noise, may Translate Virgil much more agreeably for Style and Sence, than he has done. But I must own, it's a more delicate Thought than ordinary, that Virgil's mollis amaracus, in a Grove on a Moun­tain top, should make us think of Roses and Lilies; but Thoughts are free.

Aude, Hospes, contemnere opes, & te quoque dignum,
Finge Deo. —

What if thus Translated?

Dare, noble Guest, to scorn all Wealth below,
And as a God, a God-like Virtue show!

Lay by Virgil I beseech your Lordship, and all my better sort of Iudges, when you take up my Version. Is very reasonable Advice, for no­thing can provoke any tolerable Iudges Pati­ence mo [...] than to compare them together. But why must this great Book be call'd Virgil then, only to catch Gulls, and make them be­lieve [Page 39] they hug a Iuno, when really they have no more than a Cloud or Shadow?

False Critics may think I Latinize too much. And so may true Critics, but Mr. D. takes care to fix an ill Character before hand on all who condemn him, so that every one ven­tures on him at his Peril, and I among the rest.

I carry not out the Treasure of the Nation which is never to Return. A design'd Reflecti­on on some of whom he would have it believ­ed that they do so. But what I bring from Ita­ly, I spend in England. Now we English are somewhat Jealous of Italian ware, we had so much of it a few Years since, that we cannot yet be very fond of it, especially when cook'd by ill Hands.

Every Man can't distinguish between Pe­dantry and Poetry; every Man therefore is not fit to Innovate. Mr. D. I hope is unexcepti­onable in the case, he understands the Funda­mentals of Parnassus, and might with as good Right, as his Holyness does in Religious Matters, set up for Poetical Infallibility; he abases and distorts Common Words, and calls that Innovating; and who may say to him▪ What doest thou? What I have observ'd of him, is only endeavouring to taint our Eng­lish with some Latin Idioms, which I'm afraid will die upon his Hands, or sink like Irish Money, and come to nothing.

The Poet must first be certain that the word he would introduce, is beautiful in Latin. Well, it may be so, yet very Foolish in English; for [Page 40] instance, one of the Reasons of Iuno's hate to the Trojans, was, Spretae injuria Formae; where the Expression is pure and Intelligible. Mr. D. Latinizes in his Version, thus, And her Form disdain'd. Which is absurd, improper, and obscure; but this it is for one who can't distinguish between Pedantry, and Poetry, to pretend to Innovate.

Mr. Congreve has done me the favour to Review the Aeneis, and to Compare my Ver­sion with the Original. This is to fix a Scan­dal upon Mr. Congreve, that the World might think him as Dull, and Inapprehen­sive as our Translator; doubtless if he Read it, he found many Faults in it, but it seems, he's none of the dangerous Iudges, if he might be permitted to make Comparisons; and had he Read it as a Iudge, he'd scarce have found five Lines together in the whole, which might have been call'd Virgil's.

I only say, Virgil has avoided those Proprie­ties. Some think quite otherwise, and that he was extraordinary careful in that mat­ter, and tho such Words are not usual, yet, even Ladies may be sooner brought to under­stand things by them, which require them, than by other suppos'd plainer Words; and if Virgil wrote for all in General, Men of Art would have been apt to Censure him for Improprieties; but I confess I believe Gassen­dus or Mercator in Astronomy, Manesson or Vauban in Military Architecture, Monsieur —, or Mr. Evelyn, in Gardening, and [Page 41] Worlidge, or Markham in Husbandry, may have some Cant Words, as Mr. D. calls them, which Virgil was unacquainted with, but what he uses, ought as far as may be, to be so Tran­slated.

I have omitted the four Preliminary Lines, &c. Here Mr. D. sets up again for a very great Critic; And Ille ego, &c. must be flung away to the Dogs. But why so angry good Mr. Translator? If your old Friend Donatus be a credible Person, they are Virgil's, and pray, how long have you known better what became Virgil to Write, than he knew himself? And much better Iudges have concluded them to be his, and methinks, the very Air of 'em is inimitable and extreamly suitable to the place they are in; beginning as low as his Tityre tu patulae, and rising by degrees in Style as the Works he refers to do, till at last he mounts high enough to joyn with his Arma virumque cano. His Vicina and arva are at no unusual distance, his quamvis avido, nothing like Affectation; and why should Horrentia be a Flatter Epithet here than in other places, as his Horrentia terga, and Horrentia lustra? Some Men, we see, will be wading out of their Depth: But he thinks Tucca and Varius rather Added, than Retren­ch'd them, it's Ridiculous to imagine ei­ther; Virgil made them, and none else could have made 'em; he left 'em there himself, and none ever dar'd to remove 'em; and Virgil's own Judgment of 'em is more valuable than [Page 42] that of a Thousand Rat Critics put toge­ther.

My Master needed not the Assistance of that Preliminary Poet. What Poet does he mean, Tucca or Varius? Then his English is very good; If any Body else, why is he not nam'd? But, could not Virgil write well in the mean as well as in the sublime Style? Is it not Law­ful for a Man to go up by steps to a noble Palace? And is not every Line of the decry'd four such a Step? Any Man, who had a true tast of Poetry, would find it presently; but a Pa­late long vitiated with Fustian Language can't relish Purity and Agreeableness. They'd be better Connected to what follows thus:

I who but Pip'd on humble Reeds before,
And then thro' Woods, and Groves, the Muses bore,
Taught greedy Swains with Art to till the Field,
And made lean Soils a weighty Burden yield;
Now rise, and, soaring on a stronger Wing,
Of Martial Deeds in lofty Numbers sing.

I have done him less injury than any of his former Libellers. That may be question'd. Mr. Ogilby has given us more of Virgil, tho he attempted it with the greatest disadvantages in the World. And Mr. Sandys on the first Aeneïd hasshown, that, would he have under­taken the whole, Mr. D's pains might have been superseded, and I hope the D. of Lau­derdale's Friends will Publish his Works now as a Vindication of Virgil, from that Scandal Mr. D. has fixt on him.

[Page 43]Since this long Piece of Impertinence is ad Clerum, I hope I shall meet with Mr. D's Par­don, if I have gone thro it with that Rigor and Ill Nature which I use, when I hear such things; and Mr. D. may if he please, believe, that I'm not his Enemy, but cannot with Pa­tience see either Priests or Poets Abus'd or Vi­lify'd.

The Postscript has nothing worth observ­ing at present, so I pass now to the Poem it self, where, if you find any thing Repeated which has been said already, you must Im­pute it to Mr. D. and his Friends, who by their Repetitions have given the occasion.

It may seem strange for so great second-hand Critics as Mr. Dryden, or his Friends, to dream of Virgil's Bastardy, or his Mothers Re­lation to Quinctilius Varus, or to swallow the Fable of the occasion of Virgil's advancement, I have wrong'd my Au­thor less, considering my Circumstances, than those who have attempted him before, either in our own, or any Modern Language. And tho this Version is not void of Envy, yet it comforts me, that the Faults of others are not worth finding, mine are neither gross nor frequent &c. To Lord Clifford. which the spurious Donatus gives us, but his own Ruaeus justly explodes; nor have his Pre­decessors in Criticism apply'd Virgil's 4th Eclogue to Augustus, but to Sa­loninus the Son of Pollio, if their Judgments are of any value. Ar­rius who possest Virgil's House and Farm near Mantua, is said to be fierce of the Services he had render'd to Octavius, a very odd Phrase in English, and not to be Endenizen'd on the Recommendation of Mr. Dryden. The ac­count [Page 44] given of Virgil's changing what he had Written in praise of Gallus into the Story of Aristaeus, is as unintellegible to me as an old Hie­roglyphic, and not a little silly. I hope he'll on a Review, give it another Air, and at least make it Sence, if not Probable? The Reduction of the old Roman Story, to Virgil's Persons and Characters, is intolerably Ridi­culous; nor is Servius's Authority sufficient to make Polydorus's Wood allusive to Romulus's Lance. Turnus's recess, Book 9th, is no more like that of Cocles, than Virgil's own over the Mincius; Nor Sinon's hiding himself, or ra­ther his pretence to it (for it is only a sham Story) to that of Marius in the Marshes of Min­turnae: Nor is Latinus's Character agreeable to that of Lepidus. The resemblance ima­gin'd between Tully, and Drances, is absurd, and the Biographers Censure of Agrippa Scan­dalous, and against the truth of History, A­grippa being one of the greatest Persons of his Age; and Monsieur de Scudery does him less wrong in the Character he bestows on him in Cleopatra, tho Romantic, and French enough, than our Author in that senceless Idaea he gives us of him. It's not to be wonder'd Critics took no notice of what Livy tells us of Martius, 'twas an idle Story, and Valerius Antias, or Fabius Pictor were not fit to lie in the Ba­lance against Polybius, who generally repre­sents them as Fabulous, Legendary Writers, and whose own Writings would give better Satisfa­ction to a Man of Virgil's exact Iudgment; and [Page 45] besides Homer had represented his Achilles with such a Flame on his Head. I wonder how the Gentleman came to know so exactly the former Bulk and great Reduction of the Ae­neis;It was once twenty times big­ger than he left it. however it had been well if Mr. Dryden himself had taken a little more time to correct his Version. Some wise Men have thought Virgil correct enough, and that he design'd very little, if any Alteration; and his ve­ry Hemistics are so graceful, that Mr. Cow­ley could scarce believe he ever design'd to fill 'em up: Whoever compares the present Version with the Original, will conclude it in­finitely below Virgil's Perfection, and would chuse sooner to be the Author of the most di­lute Episode in Virgil than of Mr. Dryden's whole Translation.

In the Account of Virgil's Person, Manners, and Fortune, was ever any thing so Childish, as that Remark about the Word Mulier, being but once in the whole Aeneis, and that by way of Contempt? This the Index at the end of the Dauphin's Virgil told him; if he had but look'd the Word Faemina, he'd have found that often us'd; and the Dux Faemina facti was not design'd for a Slur upon Pygma­lion's Sister, or the Widow of Sichaeus. Such another's that about the Death of Dido. Again, his own Dauphin's Virgil would have shewn him how Nascimbaenus reconciles Aeneas and Deiphobus together, as well as Scaliger, Taub­mannus, and others in Emmenessius's Edition. I'm afraid Pollio's Curious Pencil has drawn a False [Page 46] Line over that of Virgil; and, as for Lavinia her Submission to her Mother, seems to have in­fluenc'd her more, than any Fancy to Turnus; tho' Youth, Beauty, Valour, and Acquaintance were as pressing Motives, as the precarious In­terpretation of an ambiguous Oracle. Virgil and Mr. Waller deserve an Honourable Chara­cter for the Chastity of their Muses: If other Men's Poetry were to be reduced to the same Modesty, a great part of them would fall un­der the Sponge.

And had Mr. Dryden, and the rest of our wretched Play-wrights of late Years, fill'd their Poems with genuine sober Wit instead of Ob­scenity and Immorality, our Youth, nay, our Elder Gentry and Nobility, nay, the whole Na­tion, had made a more considerable Figure in the World; not to mention our Religion, in which, God be thanked, they pretend to no Interest; Religion is a Micaiah to our Hectoring Debauchees, and they hate it because it never prophecies Good concerning them: But they're a kind of Vermin beneath the Dignity of a Satyr, in that respect; it's too severe to lash 'em for what they know nothing of. Let's try 'em in their own Profession with good Mr. Dryden, their vir gregis ipse caper, in the Head of 'em, and see if their Poetry be any more brillant than their Morals.

It's an effect of an Ill Memory to think Vir­gil left his Aeneis so imperfect, and yet never said too little nor too much, the very Observa­tion has clear'd the Writer of any such Impu­tation; [Page 47] but if his unfinish'd Works be so admi­rable, what would they have been, had they had his last Hand?

Hic illius arma, Hic currus fuit. The rest is none of Virgil's: How knows the Gentleman that?A Man ought to be well assur'd of his own Abi­lities, before he attacks a Line of an establish'd Reputation. Or what does he mean by the rest? Is it the latter He­mistick, then he'd make Virgil sick of his Translator's Disease, and now and then write a little Nonsense; if he'd exclude the next verse too, by what Autho­rity pray? The Sence is apposite, the Verse Majestic, the Style true Virgil, and the Critic indefensible for an ipse dixit signifies little now a days. But he adds a pretty Fable of one whom he calls Abi­enus, if it be not the Printer's Fault. He has been sometimes called Anianus, Anienus, and Abid­nus, but never Abienus. His Name was re­ally Avienus, a considerable Poet, contempo­rary with the Great Theodosius. This Writer He says, turn'd Virgil into Iambicks. But had he been of so nice a taste as he pretends, he'd have found both the Name of Avienus false written in Ruaeus and in Emmenessius, and the Name of the Author by him travestee'd in I­ambics mistaken.Aeneid. lib. 10. v. 388. Servius, according to Em­menessius's Edition, says, He turn'd all Virgil into Iambicks; but our Author says, He turn'd all Livy so too, which was a tedious Work, but not so impertinent as to have metamor­phos'd Virgil in that manner. Vossius, Vossius de Poetis La­tinis, p. 56. De Historicis Latinis, l. 11. c. 19. Hoffman in Avieno. a better Critics owns his Pains with Livy, so does Hoff­man [Page 48] too, both appeal to this very place of Vir­gil, referr'd to in the Margin; our Author takes his Notion about Livy from the same Writers; and yet Servius, in the place refer­red to, names not Livy but Virgil. This might have perswaded him, that either the Copyist or the Corrector had given us in that, or it may be some other modern Editions, Virgil for Livy, which the better Editions of Servius knew nothing of.

Cui regia parent Ar­menta & late custo­dia credi­ta campo, Aen. l. 7. not the 9. v. 4885.The same Learned Gentleman has found old Tyrrhus King Latinus his Herdsman and Fo­rester or Ranger a very Noble Employment, and has dubb'd him Master of the Horse, an Honour the poor Block-river little dreamt of; nor can it easily be guess'd who construed Virgil's Account of him for our Author; un­less a little Pique against the Unwarlike Dutch, made him wish every Master of the Horse might be reduced to cleave Blocks for his Livelyhood.

As for the Magnae spes altera Romae, the Gentleman would have done well to have referr'd us to his other ancient Author; for Ruaeus and others explode the Fancy, and if it lie under the just Imputation of an Achro­nism, a wise Man would not be too fond of it: If his Author be Servius, he might bor­row from Donatus, whom Mr. D. supposes the real Author of Virgil's Life, Anno 360. Servius flou­rishing in the 5th. Donatus in the 4th Cen­tury.Anno 410.

[Page 49]Whether Latin be only a corrupt Dialect of Greek, with the Criticks leave, may bear a Question.

After the great Encomiums of his clawing Friends, enter Mr. Dryden himself in his, sup­pos'd, Immortal Strain; whose Performance, whether it answers their Hyperboles or not, is the Subject of our next Enquiry.

Before we proceed to a Critical Examinati­on of the Translation, it may be fit to lay down some Axioms, as we suppose they will be ac­knowledged, with respect to the necessary Qualifications of him who undertakes to natu­ralize a good Poet, and to make him pleasant and useful to the unlearned Reader.

1. It's necessary the Translator should un­derstand the Author he undertakes and be acquainted, in some measure, with the Cu­stoms and Usages of that Country, which the Original more particularly respects.

2. It's necessary he should have a right taste of the Poets Genius and Character, so as to endeavour to write as chastly and purely, in as clear and noble a Stile as the Author; where he's lax and profuse, to indulge himself in a greater Liberty; where he's concise and short, to keep within the same Bounds; where he's grave and Majestick, not to be soft and tri­fling; or where he's low and easie, not to stalk in Buskins.

3. The Translator should be able to distin­guish exactly between the Low, the Mean, and the Sublime Stile, and adapt the Language [Page 50] he translates into, to all the varieties observa­ble in the Original.

4. It's necessary he should give us the true Sence and meaning of his Author, if he knows it, that he who understands not the Original, may be sure yet that he knows the Author's Mind, has his true genuine Thoughts, and not the Interpolations of another. That especially where the Author says neither too little, nor too much, the Interpreter should neither clip his Sterling, nor give it worthless Bulk and Weight with the Additional Alloy of his own base Metal. And,

5. He should make his Author speak so in a Modern Language, as he could reasonably conclude he would have spoken if now liv­ing, and writing on the same Subjects, and maintaining the same Characters he had taken up before.

These seem to be undeniably necessary Quali­fications in a good Translator; how our Author has observ'd 'em may be doubted; but pas­sing by the smaller, which are innumerable, we shall only animadvert on his more notorious and indefensible Errors.

ECLOGUE, I.

FOR never can I deem him less than God. Namque erit ille mihi semper Deus, relates not to Tityrus's Opinion of Augustus, that he'd really believe him to be a God, whom he knew to be none; but that he'd respect him [Page 51] as if he were so, and pay, those Honours be­longing to real a Deity, to him.

He gave my Kine. Ver. 11. An obscure Latinism, for, He permits my Kine to wander about the Pastures in safety, and me to play what I please on my Rural Pipe; which the Translation scarce expresses.

I admire, Ver. 13. That while the raging Sword, and wastful Fire Destroy the wretched Neighbourhood around, See our Au­thor him­self. No Hostile Arms approach your happy Ground. A Senceless Paraphrase of — Undique totis usque adeo turbatur agris. The time is come — The Souldiers neither Murder'd the Shepherds of Cremona, or Mantua, When the grim Capt. in a surly Tone, by whom are meant the Inhabi­tants of those places in general; nor were they so silly as to burn the Houses they were to Live in themselves, Crys out, Pack up ye Rascals, & be gone. they turn'd 'em indeed out of Doors, seiz'd their Lands and kept 'em, and that was disturbance enough, and which Tiryus was by the favour of Augustus deliver'd from.Ecl. 9.

Heic inter densas corylos modo namque Gemel­los.
Ver. 20.
Spem gregis, ah silice in nuda connixa reliquit.

Who Yeaning on the Rocks has left her Young. The Emphasis quite lost, with the Circumstan­ces most moving among the Shepherds, and the Sence mistaken.

And the Hoarse Raven on the blasted Bough. Ver. 25. A Raven is Corvus, not Cornix, and Tully might have taught him to distinguish be­tween the Cough or Daw, and the Raven, and shown the import of Virgil's Sinistra Cor­nix. [Page 52] Quid Augur? De Divinat. l. 1. c. 39. cur á dextrâ Corvus, á sinistrâ Cornix faciat Ratum? And the Cornix is what the Raven is not Avis inauspicatoe garrulitatis: and Cava Ilex, is not the blasted Bough.

[...] 41. Till then a helpless, hopeless, homely Swain. Impertinent all! But for good Sence sake, why homely Swain? Was Virgil turn'd Beau, all Periwig, and Steenkirk when he had once got to Rome? or what Methods of Artificial Handsomness had honest Tityrus, still knowable by his old Friend, taken up? It would be too hard to find the Poets sence in the next four Lines.

Ver. 48. To see your Mistress mourn. Was it Galatea, or Amaryllis?

Ver. 63. And graciously decreed, &c. Augustus's Ora­cle is quite lost, which in the Original carries an extraordinary Majesty and Emphasis along with it.

Ver. 68. A Stony Harvest. Not Virgil, and too bold a figure for a Shepherd, and the present Poem.

Fortunate Senex, hic inter flumina nota, Et font­tes sacros, frigus captabis opacum, were not worth our Translators notice.

Ver. 87. And some to far Oaxis shall be sold. Et ra­pidum Cretae veniemus Oaxem. And does any History talk of the Souldiers Selling the old Possessors for Slaves; And how far from the Text are the following Lines?

Ver. 100. Now let me graft my Pears, and prune my Vine.

The Fruit is theirs, the Labour only mine. Virgil's meaning is only Go, poor Melibus, graft thy Pears, &c. if thou canst, but alass! [Page 53] thou hast none to exercise thy pains upon. The following Lines are meer Confusion, and as far as possible from the beauty of Virgil's con­nected Thoughts. Ver. 110, &c. Could never grow out of Vir­gil's Ground.

And Boughs shall Weave a Covering for your Head. Ver. 116. A very pretty Complement, and which Virgil had not Address enough to think of.

ECLOGUE II.

YOung Corydon, &c. Virgil calls Alexis Delicias Domini. Ver. 1. Why not his Tran­slator? The next two Lines are far short of Virgil's Sence, and the following are of the same strain.

And Thestylis, wild Thyme, and Garlick beats. But could the Translator imagine Virgil meant no more?Ver. 9. Garlick and Thyme would have given the poor Harvest Men a mighty Refresh­ment; even an ordinary Commentator would have let him know that Garlick and Thyme, were only some of the Ingredients of the Mo­retum, a savory Pudding, nourishing and healthful to the Labourers.

The creaking Locusts. Why Man! the Grashoppers are the Musicians of the Harvest, not the Locusts;Ver. 13. and are meant by the Cicadae. Lo­custs I doubt make but an odd kind of Musick. The following verse, sure should have been Ovid's not Virgil's.

White Lillyes lie neglected on the Plain, Whilst dusky Hyacinths for use remain. Ver. 21, 22 Be­sides [Page 54] the poorness of the Traduction, who taught Mr. D. that Lilies were so useless, or that Ligustra signified Lilies? Martial would have told him of the Maid who was whiter Argento, Lib. 1. Ep. 116. Lib. 8. Ep. 28. nive, lilio, ligustro? And he Com­plements another Lilia tu vincis nec ad huc de­lapsa Ligustra. The Ligustra were doubtless, the Blossoms of some Tree. Pliny tells us, the Cyprus in Egypt, is by some thought to be the Ligustrum of Italy, Plin. Hist. Nat. l. 12. c. 24. whose Flowers may be sweet in their Native Soil, but degenerate in another.

Amphion sung not sweeter to his Herd When summon'd Stones the Theban Turret rear'd. Ver. 29.30. Were the Stones then his Herd? Or did not Mr D. talk of the Theban Walls, because he knew not what Actaeus Aracynthus meant: This to make use of his own Witicism, is to traduce Virgil indeed.

Ver. 40. Or perhaps contend with Pan. Virgil had more Judgment than to make his Shepherds contend for Mastery with their God; but when Mr. D. represented Alexis and Corydon, his Thoughts were big with his own Maximin: The next Lines are as wide of Virgil, as of good Sence.

Nor scorns the Pipe. For Nec te poeniteat, &c. Mr,Ver. 43. D. sencelesly applies that to Pan, which Virgil makes Corydon say to Alexis; and so to Talk coherently.

Ver. 45. Corydon's Pipe was not made with seven smooth Ioynts, but with seven Reeds of an un­equal length joyn'd together, somewhat like the lesser Pipe of a small Organ.

[Page 55] Two Kids that, for, which, but false Gram­mar is so common with him, it's not worth notice.

I found by chance, Ver. 51. and to my Fold convey'd. i. e. I stole 'em, Virgil meant, he found them in a dangerous Place, near the Den of some Beast of Prey; so as he ventur'd his Life for 'em,Ver. 52. which would render the present more valuable. Virgil's Capreoli would have been lit­tle Goats, whose Age yet was more distinguish­able by their Marks, than by their Size. Sparsis etiam nunc pellibus albo.

Alexis is represented as a young Shepherd, Ver. 53. and the Goats would serve for somewhat bet­ter than to play with.

To make amends for his former neglect; Mr. D. now tells us, They were both fleckt with White, the true Arcadian strain; what Virgil gave then as a mark of their Age, our Poet makes a mark of their Breed;Ver. 55. a very considerable discovery! It's a wonder he did not derive 'em from the Goats, in whose Wa­tering-Troughs Iacob laid the peel'd Rods. But nemo Mortalium, &c.

The next ten Lines are so wild a Translation of Virgil as is intolerable; the sweet smelling Daffodil, the Pansy, the Purple Spring, because it brings on pale Violets, and Marsh Marigolds are such a medly of Flowers, as would fright Virgil, if he were to see 'em put down for his; nor would he own that Ovidian Conclu­sion where, at least, there's too much.

[Page 56] Ver. 90. Towers are for Gods. A very grave Sen­tence; but pray, for what kind of Gods?

The wanton Kid the Browse, Excellent for Florentem Cytisum, Ver. 92. &c.

Ver. 93.Alexis thou art chas'd by Corydon. A very noble Expression.

Ver. 95.99. See from a far the Fields no longer smoke, Cool Breezes now the raging Heats remove. The Scene is now to be removed to Iamaica or Barbadoes, which Virgil's honest Shepherds ne'er thought of. The following three Lines are wonderfully agreeable to Homespun Cory­don. Doubtless Mr. D. when he wrote 'em, thought himself courting a Town Miss, and had a mind to show all his Improvements by Court Conversation.

In this whole Eclogue our Translator has kept himself at such a distance from his Author, that it's plain, he did not or would not under­stand him, nor can he be so much a Suffae­nus to himself, as to imagine, Virgil, had he been now living, would have represented a Shepherd, tho of the true Arcadian strein so injudiciously. He has made Virgil think o­therwise than he did, whether better or no, I leave to their Judgments who understand the Original.

ECLOGUE III.

Ver. 1. HO Groom! a very Elegant Title for a Shepherd! but I confess, Mr. D. is not without Authority, for so H. C. in his Popish [Page 57] Courant Jan. 24th 78/9. Translates Non ego Romuleâ miror quod pastor in Urbe Sceptra gerat; Pa­stor conditor Urbis erat. It's nothing strange a Sheperd Reigns in Rome; For he that built it, was a Shepherd's Groom. While he Neaera Courts, Ver. 4.5. and Courts in vain. A mistake, for she was their c [...]mon Friend, and Aegon was only afraid Menalcas should have more of her Company than himself.

Of Grass and Fodder thou defrau'dst the Dams. for Et succus pecori. Ver. 6. Ruaeus teaches him better than to construe it so absurdly.

Yet when I crept the Hedges of the Leys. Ver. 15. Pure Nonsense! and stole the Stays. Better and better.

Beneath yon antient Oak. Ver. 17. Ad veteres fagos. well guest however. When the fair Boy receiv'd the gift of Right. Et cum vidisti puero dona­ta dolebas. If this ben't Translation, pray what is?

What Nonsense would the Fool thy Master prate. Ver. 21. Quid domini facient? We use to say, Saying and Doing, are two things.

When thou his Knave. Ver. 21. Mr. D. has heard of Paul the Knave of Iesus Christ; and if I mistake not, I have read some Plays said to be written by Iohn Dryden, Servant to His Ma­jesty; however it's a most profound Quibble.

Ask, Ver. 22. Damon, ask if he the Debt denies; I think he dares not; if he does, he lies. Here's Dametas grown a meer Almanzor. The Lye no Man can bear. But is not this an admirable Construction of— Et mihi Damon Ip­se [Page 58] fatebatur, sed reddere posse negabat? i. e. He durst not deliver it, because of his Masters Interest, or without his leave.

Ver. 34. Thou Booby. Stoo him Bays! Now I fan­cy, Virgil intended to expose some dull Poet for a meer Ballad Singer, Toning out, ô Hone ô Hone! with sad Lines, and a dismal voice, and that indeed, his Compositions, tho very mean, were like the present Translation, Licen­sed and Entered according to Order. Mr. D. is of another Mind, and says, He tickled the Croud with a Straw.

Ver. 40 My brindled Heifer. Now since Mr. D. was at liberty to make it of any Colour, why was it not my Milk-white Heifer, that we might have known it was of the true Roman strein? But why, her Beestnings never fail? the Dairy Maid at Denham Court, would have told him, they are Beestnings but for three or four Days after Calving; afterwards they are Strokings; but it was a most miraculous Heifer, which had her brimming Pails full of either, especially when she had suckled two Calves before; but if her Strokings were so plentiful, what would her full Bag have given?

A cursed she, who rules my Hen-peckt Sire, Menalcas says no such thing,Ver. 48, 49. who does the Translator mean? Alter and Haedos. And once she takes the Tale of all the Lambs, Well Con­strued again!

Two Bowls I have. Now here I durst say my Brindled Heifer, Ver. 55. that our Translator made 'em two, because Virgil calls 'em Pocula in the Plu­ral [Page 59] Number, and carrys it quite thro Menal­cas's Speech,Lavina­que venit litora. but by Neuters Plural to signifie a single thing is not unusual, and Damaetas, to run him down, tells him, he indeed has duo Pocula, i. e. He was resolv'd to overmatch him in every thing, for he treats him altoge­ther in Scorn, tho it comes to a Wager at last.

The Lids are Ivy — Bowls don't use to have Lids, Ver. 55. unless Alcimedon had the way of making Tunbridge Ware, and I dare say, Menalcas's had not so much as a loose Cover; the word Super­addita, I'm afraid made Mr. D. think of a Lid. Grapes in clusters lurk beneath, is like the Fel­low looking out of the Window who was to draw in his Head, if any body look'd at him; I'm desperately afraid Mr. D. read it Celatum. For the whole description of the Bowl, Ruaeus, if consulted, would have set him somewhat righter.

The Kimbo Handles seem with Bearsfoot Car­ved. Ver. 69. Nonsense again,

Where Orpheus on his Lyre laments his Love; Ver. 69, 70. With Beasts encompass'd, and a dancing Grove. Meer trifling, and unsuitable to Virgil, and his Shepherd's Character.

Menalcas rather than be thought a Coward, Ver. 74, 75. comes to Damaetas's terms in Virgil. Veniam quocunque [...]ocaris; but does not brag like a Child, this, Ruaeus would have shown our Translator, but he forgets all that.

And Nature has accomplish'd all the Spring. Ver. 84. Admirable!

[Page 60] V. 39, &c. Me Phoebus loves, for Him my blushing Hya­cynths and my Bays I keep. The rest is the Translators, and impertinently stuck to Vir­gil.

Ver. 97. With pelted Fruit, &c. I thought Galatea had pelted him with Apples. Mr. Dryden thought the Apples were pelted, not the Man.

Then tripping to the Woods— for Et fugit ad salices.

Ver. 105. I saw two Stock-doves billing, and e're long will take the Nest. But does their Billing shew where their Nest is? Virgil's Damaetas observ'd where their Nest was, Mr. D. only their Ge­sture.

Ver. 107. Ten ruddy Wildings, i. e. Crabs; a Noble Present! And doubtless the Aurea Mala of the Hesperidos were no better. And stood on Tip-toes reaching from the Ground, i. e. to get at the Wildings: But where says Virgil or Ruaeus so?

Ver. 111. The lovely Maid lay panting in my Arms, &c. where's nothing of Virgil's Spirit or Pastoral Style, but pure Ovid, or somewhat looser than he.

Ver. 120. At Sheering time. Cum faciam vitula pro frugibus.

Ver. 135. A Bull be bred With spurning Heels and with a butting Head. This, I'm sure, is no Com­mentary on the Poet's Meaning, nor is it Intel­ligible to a meer English Reader, nor, as tran­slated, is it any just Repartee to Damaetas.

Ver. 138. Let Myrrh instead of Thorn his Fences fill. Amomum is by some thought to be the Herb [Page 61] Night-shade, by some the Rose of Ierusalem, by some of Iericho, by some 'tis thought to be Cinnamon, only Mr. D. has found it out to be Myrrh. But why Myrrh to make a Fence? Damaetas would have Pollio his Friend so happy, as that his very Bushes should bear the sweetest Flowers, or the richest Spices; but nei­ther Plants like Hemlock, nor Odoriferous Flow­ers, nor sweet Gums, were ever fit to make Hedges with; our Translator was certainly here in a Dream, or worse.

Who hates not living Bavius,Ver. 140. i. e. N. T. let him be Dead, Maevius, i. e. T. S. damn'd to love thy Works and thee. And why are not either of 'em as commendable as a Bathyllus or a Chaerilus, or one past the fumbling Age of Po­etry?

Ioin Dog-Foxes in the Yoke. Ver. 143. How come Mr. D. to know that Virgil meant Dog-Foxes? Or why must Mulgeat Hircos be render'd, Sheer the Swine. Methinks it had been better, let him, like Waltham's Calf, go nine Mile to suck a Bull, as they do who read this dear Transla­tion for Virgil.

Is a lewd ridiculous Translation:Ver. 144, 5. So what Menalcas says afterwards, and what Damaetas returns is so far from the Text, as the silliest Priest in England would have been asham'd of.

Destroys the Groom. Ver. 155▪ I'm afraid Mr. D. will hardly shew us the Country in England where the Shepherd's Boy is stil'd the Groom; but he's in love with the Word, and I have given him an Authority for it before.

[Page 62] V. 158. What Magick has bewitch'd the woolly Dams? Why none at all, Man! They were the Lambs which look'd as if they had suck'd sheir Dams through a Hurdle; i. e. they were overlooked by some Witch.

Ver. 160.Is more a Riddle than Virgil's.

The whole Eclogue is vitiously translated, that a Man could scarcely pass one Line with­out Censure; and Mr. D. seems in general to have no Notion of Virgil's Air or Sence, but fixes any thing on him which himself thinks fit, lops off his best Thoughts; and though his Lines are smoother, his Sense is not better, or more plain than Ogylby's so much decry'd.

ECLOGUE IV.

THis Eclogue is of a piece with the rest of Mr. D.'s; and as to the Subject of it, it would puzzle a good Critick to reconcile Mr. D.'s Prefatory Talk, Ruaeus his Preface, and the Argument His Friends gave him for it together. But let who will compose that Quarrel, let's see what the Version is.

To find no Fault with the Absurd Transla­tion of the Four first Lines.

Ver. 5. The last Great Age foretold by Sacred Rhimes, Renews it's finish'd Course. What can Mr. Translator mean by that? Why this great Age was now but coming, not past, and beginning again? Virgil knew better than to think that the great Platonick Year was past when he wrote; but here was now beginning a now, a [Page 63] better, and a happier Season than had been for­merly known since the Golden Age. He calls [...]it the last Age; if the last be finish'd it can't be renew'd again, if it be renew'd it was not the last; nor can a Quibble excuse the Non­sense, nor prove what follows, And mighty Years begun, From the first Orb in radiant Cir­cles run, any thing but glittering Nonsense.

The Father, Ver. 16. &c. A poor Version of Te Du­ce siqua manent sceleris vestigia nostri Irrita, &c. The whole Design of this Eclogue has been much controverted. After what has been said by Blondel, Boxhorne, Galaeus, and many great Men of our own, it seems to me, that Virgil, acquainted with ancient Prophecies, reflected on and repeated oft in his Time, concerning an Universal King to be born in the East, or in Iudaea, (for that Talk was sometimes more particular, sometimes more general) was wil­ [...]ing to divert the Course of those Prophesies, and make the Romans look at Home for what they expected from Abroad. Whether they were [...]he Sibylline Prophecies, (many of which may [...]e Authentick, whatsoever yet has been said against them) or the more Authentick Iewish Prophecies, then read in many places; I doubt not but Virgil design'd all to the Honour of his Patrons, in which, I believe, he was not in­spir'd; but though not inspir'd, he might be [...]o far directed by an unknown Influence, and limited by a Superintending Providence as to [...]mass such things together in this particular Poem, as would be ridiculous when apply'd to [Page 64] any, but Iesus the Son of God, the Saviour of the World. To Him these very Verses belong, and were penn'd by Virgil in an ambiguous man­ner, equally applicable to Pollio's Son or Ne­phew, or Augustus; and were construed, at that time, by that Notion they had of the Writer, whose Person and Inclinations is often­times the best Comment upon his Work.

Ver. 18. The Son shall lead the Life of Gods, is very short of, He shall be Partaker of the Divine Life, which is the true Sense of the Poet's Words.

V. 23, 4, 5.All meer trifling to the Original; where the very Verses seem to smile, as well as the pro­mis'd, Garlands on the New-born Infant.

Ver. 30. Each common Bush shall Syrian Roses wear. No sure, Myrrh not Roses; Mr. D. ought not to change the Signification of Words at his own Pleasure.

Ver. 35. The knotted Oke shall Showers of Honey weep▪ And thro' the melted Grass the Liquid Gold shall creep. Thus one's for Sense, the other for Con­venience, as our Friend Hudibras has it.

Ver. 42. Another Argos, I'm afraid is something more than a Typographical Error.

Ver. 51. Nor Wool shall in dissembled Colours shine▪ Why, Man, the Divers Colours are real not dissembled; no, not so much as meer variou [...] modifications of Light; but Virgil means, th [...] most beauteous Colours Wool could wear should [...] Natural, not Artificial, as the following Ver­ses shew.

[Page 65] Beneath his Pompous Fleece shall proudly sweat, Ver. 55, 6. And under Tyrian Robes the Lambs shall blea [...], i. e. They shall all be Kings, or Noblemen at least, and appear always in their Parliament Robes. But is this to Translate Virgil, whose Thoughts are always just, and Expressions pro­per?

Mature in Years, Ver. 59. for Aderit jam tempus; as if the Expression referr'd not to the World, but to the Child; which the very next Passage corrects.

See to their Base restor'd Earth, Ver. 63. Seas, and Air, And joyful Ages from behind in crowding Ranks appear. Nothing at all to the purpose, but to put one in mind of—Was not he a Ra­scal? &c.

The frowning Infant's Doom is read. Ver. 77▪ Cui non risere Parentes. Thro' the whole of this Eclogue a Man may look for Virgil in Virgil, and not be able to find him.

ECLOGUE V.

IT's always accounted unlucky to stumble in the beginning of a Work;Ver. 1. yet here our Translator begins to the Tune of Fauste, precor gelidâ, &c. Since on the Downs our Flocks together feed; which is a very fine Thought. And why was not the Design of their Sitting down in the Shade mentioned? They who read the Original understand it; they who pretend to interpret the Poet should express it.

[Page 66] Ver. 5.What Mr. D. gave our Poet before, he takes away quite in these four Lines, and that for false English too. It seems, tho' a very good Catholick, as doubtless he is, he never read the Catholick Father's Book De Majoritate & Obedienti [...].

Ver. 7. Or will you to the cooler Cave succeed? This is one of the Latinisms Mr. D. pretends to boast of, and a silly one it is. Succeed is con­fin'd in our Language to another Sence or two, and won't be naturaliz'd to this, tho' Mr. D. should bring the Bill into the Parliament of Poets.

Now bring the Swain, Whose Voice you boast, Ver. 20. and let him try the Strain. This shews the Translator's Folly, who talk'd of Amyntas's before, which Menalcas meant not; but that no other Shepherd among 'em had so fine a Vein of Poetry, or made such fine Songs as A­myntas; and the Canendo afterwards is to be interpreted the same way; and here Mopsus promises to sing his Elegy on Daphnis, and challenges Menalcas to bring in Amyntas to perform any thing like it; and, in return, Menalcas complements Mopsus not for his Voice, for his Talent was Calamos inflare leves, but for his Poetry.

No more, but sit and hear the promis'd Lay, The gloomy Grotto makes a doubtful day. Ver. 25. An admirable Paraphrase on Sed tu desine plura, puer: successimus antro.

The Lifeless Parent, his wretched Limbs em­brac'd Accusing all the Gods, V. 34, &c. and every Star. The rest is all an Ovidian impertinence of Mr. D's, who indeed, makes Virgil's Poem look [Page 67] like Damaetas's Armour, patch'd with any thing he could gather from the lower Form of Poets. And if Rome was the Parent, the de­scription's nothing but absurdity; besides, how could the Lifeless Parent embrace the dead Corps, or accuse the Gods? The Proverb seems true generally, that Mortui non mordent.

The Lybian Lyons hear, Ver. 42. and hearing roar. Let Ogylby shew a Nobler Line, if he can.

And Holy Revels for his Reeling Train. Ver. 46. A very pretty Circumstance in commendation of a deceas'd Hero, and from a sober Poet; but the Translator puts in a little Burlesque now and then, for a Ragout for his cheated Subscribers.

And so to the 55th is an impertinent and un­seasonable Illustration of Virgil's neat Eulogy on Daphnis. Ver. 50.

And softly let the running Waters glide. Ver. 62. A­nother of Mr. D's sweet smelling Daffodils, who for Virgil's short, yet Noble Epitaph, has given us a loose, unnerv'd one of his own; it can be no Capital Crime, after so Celebrated a Trifler, to render it thus;

Daphnis the Shepherd I to Heaven renown'd,
Fair was my Flock, my self with fairer Beauties cround.

O Heavenly Poet! Ver. 69. Here Mr. D. shows his own carelesness before, and confirms my Ob­servation, that it was not the voice, but the Poetry, for which Mopsus was so much admir'd.

It's not the Character of Shepherds to be op­prest with Cares, Ver. 71, 72. and Virgil never thought of the Sylvan Shade, but the green Grass, which [Page 68] it's better sleeping in on a Sunny Bank, than under a Shade, the Grass being sweeter there, and the Steam of the Earth more wholsome.

Your Lays are next to his, and claim the second Praise. Ver. 77.78. Alter ab illo signifies, not one inferiour, or of the second Rank, but another such an one, or equal to him, nor is Servius's Authority good to the contrary.

For Daphnis was so good to love what e're was mine. Ver 81. Menalcas's complement to Mopsus is spoil'd before, and here he does not say, Daphnis lov'd what e're was mine, but he lov'd me, which a Man may do, without loving all the failures of his Friend: And if Mr. D. had any thoughts of King Charles II. tho he had all the sweetness of Nature a meer Man was capable of, he had too much Wit to like every thing that was his.

Ver. 86, 87, 89.Should we allow Candidus to signifie, the Guest of Heaven, which it does not, but has a nobler Emphasis, what means the Translator by his viewing the Starry Skies in the Milky way; sure it's an odd kind of Hypallage. Now whether Daphnis look'd upward or downward for this fine Vision, Virgil makes him see the Stars below him, Mr. D. the rolling Year, for so he construes Sidera, to the best of my ap­prehension; and doubtless, that's a very fine Sight, and a mighty surprize to his wonder­ing Eyes.

The Purple Spring adorns the various Ground. Virgil could never have reach'd so fine, Ver. 91. and so very agreeable a Thought.

[Page 69] Nor Birds the Springes fear. Ver. 94. This Mr. D. added, to let us know he understood how to catch Woodcocks.

For Daphnis Reigns above, Ver. 95, 6. and deals from thence His Mother's milder Beams and peaceful Influence. Who does the Translator mean by Caesar's Mother, if Daphnis was Caesar? Was it Aurelia, the Daughter of Caius Catta, who makes a very small Figure in History? Or was it Venus? If so, she should have been his Grandmother at least? Or was not his Head full of Aeneas, whose Mother Venus indeed was▪ as he thinks Virgil's Head was when he wrote this Eclogue? And is not the whole a pretty Paraphrase of Amat Bonus otia Daph­nis?

The Shrubs partake of Humane Voice. Ver. 98. But why Humane? Can any thing be more absurd? The Poet never thought of it. And not only Prophane Writers, but Scripture it self, calls up­on all the parts of the Universe to praise God; but they never dreamt of their doing it in a Humane Voice.

Assenting Nature with a gracious▪ Nod Pro­claims him. Ver. 99. That's a very new way of Pro­claiming a God; the gracious Nod belongs to Iove, as the supreme among the Poetical Gods; to ascribe what belongs to him to Nature, is to make Nature superior to a God, and therefore to condescend very far, when she allows her gracious Nod to the new dub'd Divinity.

On each is offer'd Annual Sacrifice. Ver. 121. Where does Mr. Translator find that? The follow­ing [Page 70] Lines are senceless and idle: Virgil talks no­thing of what the Priests should offer, but what he'd offer himself; Two Bowls of New Milk, and two of fresh Oil.

Damaetas shall perform the Rites Divine. Was Damaetas then a Priest?Ver. 113. If not, what had he to do with Divine Rights? If he was, why should Menalcas only mention his Sing­ing in the Text? What Aegon was to do, the same was the Task of Damaetas, but Aegon was to Sing Hymns to Daphnis, not to play the Priest; therefore Damaetas was only to sing. Mr. D. quite forgot the following Vow, Haec tibi semper erunt

Ver. 121. And Locusts feed on Dew. Where did Mr. D. ever hear of Locusts feeding on Dew? Scri­pture, if he troubl'd that much, would have taught him better, Germany sometimes, and several parts of Africa very frequently find it otherwise; but Mr. D. is fond of Translating Cicadae Locusts, which in our Poet, always sig­nifie Grashoppers, of whom, for ought we know, the observation of their feeding on Dew, may be true.

Ver. 126.Tho Damnabis tu quoque votis, may pass well in Latin, yet a pretence to Translate it literally in English, is ridiculous, when the plain meaning is, thou too shalt oblige Men, or hold them fast to the performance of their Vows by the awe of thy Divine Power.

Ver. 136. And had the Iudge been just, had won the Prize. An Addition directly contrary to Vir­gil's notion of Palaemon, and that Opinion Rhem­nius [Page 71] Palaemon had of himself upon account of Virgil's naming him as a Iudge between the contending Shepherds, therefore this did not grow out of him. The Paraphrase on the last three Verses is more loose, and trifling than Ovid would have offer'd at in the great­est Luxuriancy of his Fancy.

ECLOGUE VI.

NOR blush'd the Doric Muse to dwell in Man­tuan Plains. Ver. 2. But why must Sylvae signifie the Mantuan Plains? Or why the Doric Muse? Did Virgil ever write in the Doric Dialect, as Theocritus had done? Who would imagine the Translator had ever read his Author? The first is every whit as wide too from the Author's Sence.

Nor dare beyond the Reed. Ver. 6. A very clear Expression, and extreamly agreeable to de­ductum dicere carmen.

And reading not disdain. Ver. 11. Si quis tamen haec quoque, si quis Captus amore leget. The Translation's admirable English, and very much to the purpose.

The Name of Varus oft inscrib'd shall see In every Grove, Ver. 13. and every vocal Tree. Virgil says no­thing of inscribing, nor would Mr. D. had he but consider'd his own Epithet? for why should the Tree be vocal upon which the Name would be inscrib'd? It ought to be vo­cal to sing a Name, as Virgil says, but the dumb­est [Page 72] Tree in all the wood, might serve well enough to carry an Inscription.

Ver. 15. And all the Sylvan Reign. I have heard Mr. D. was once a Westminster Scholar. Dr. Busby I doubt, would have whip'd a Boy for Para­phrasing omne nemus so Childishly. The three next verses are worthy of Mr. D. but un­worthy of his admirable Author.

Ver. 19.Mr. D. was Nominum asperitate deterritus. And therefore lets Chromis and Mnasylus pass, but where did he find that Silenus was their Sire; if he were, his drunkenness would not excuse their Rudeness to bind their Sire for an old Song.

Ver. 25. Born by the Tide of Wine, and floating on the Floor. Was ever so senseless, a Thought? How scap'd the old Toper from drowning in his own Spue? And what a dull Soul was poor Virgil? This is to make him talk better than be ever thought before; but see the Luxuriancy of Wit! The very next Couplet gives us as fine a touch with relation to his empty Can, his Gravis Cantharus, (for he's now for his Statu­imus, i. e. abrogamus) with the unusual Orna­ment of two Ears; 'Twas hung on high to boast the Triumph of the Day. I suppose it was made out of some Vocal Tree, and had an Epinicion inscribed on it.

Ver. 33. The fairest Nais, for Nymph, that it might be the more intelligible; and soon after, He finds the Fraud, injudiciously for He finds the Trick; for there was no Fraud in their bind­ing him, and painting his Face.

[Page 73] 'Twas Impudence to find A sleeping God, Ver. 38, 39. 'tis Sa­crilege to bind. Silenus was no God, but a De­migod, which is more than can be said of our unparallell'd Translator. But where did he find that pretty Notion of Impudence and Sa­crilege? Virgil says only,Satis est potuisse vi­deri. It was favour e­nough to them that they had seen him, intima­ting there was no need of more; if he was willing to be seen, they need not question his Willingness to satisfie them in other Particulars: But what's the pretended Version to all this?

Not by Haemonian Hills, &c. Unquestio­nably true,Ver. 46. the Hills were very silent all of them; yet if they had any Nodding Forests up­on them, there be somewhat of a Noise a­mong them, a leading up the Brawls, or so; but where's Virgil?

He sung how Seas, Ver. 50, &c. &c. Fell thro' the mighty Void, and in their Fall Were blindly gather'd in this goodly Ball. Ruaeus and others, to whom Mr. D. is blindly gather'd, suppose Silenus an Epicurean Philosopher, his full Gut, his empty Can, his Tipsie brain, and his abominable Spew­ing, I suppose, were their Evidences: But how shall we reconcile Mr. D. and his Friends, the Prefacers to these Pastorals, who, with a great deal of Iudgment deny the matter, and argue better from Silenus's Words, than from his Posture. Mr. D. is Epicure entire in his Sence of Virgil; but where says Virgil himself, that the Seeds of all things fell thro' the mighty Void? If they fell through it, they fell from some place or Ubi without it, which was their Terminus à [Page 74] quo, and into some place without or beneath it a­gain, which was the Terminus ad quem: And pray what Philosophy is this? But, In their Fall they were blindly gather'd, i. e. by Fortune, commonly call'd Blind. The Seeds of things then were passive, Fortune was active; and what's capable of acting, must have an Exi­stence; therefore Fortune had a Being before the Seeds of all things, which is a great Honour to Her Divinity. But Virgil says the Semina were, per inane coacta, Gathered together, but not by chance, or blindly, but by some really powerful Agent; they did not fall-thro' the void, but were amass'd in it. Now if they were gather'd together, they did not gather themselves together, their concourse was not Fortuitous; if they were manag'd by some supe­rior Power, that Power could not be a Name, a Title, a Chimera, but must be a Real, All-wise, and All-Powerful Being, that is, God, who if he were the Agent, in gathering the Seeds of things together, Epicurus's Hypothesis falls: And if Virgil instructs us thus, Virgil was not, in this Eclogue, a Promoter of the Epicurean Phi­losophy; and for Mr. D. tho his Sentiments may be very suspicious, if he has any, it's plain he's no Master of his Notion, nor so much of Expression, as he pretends to; for what means he by being blindly gather'd? to jumble toge­ther by chance, or fall together Blindly, may be allow'd, but to be gather'd blindly together is pure Nonsense. Ver. 64.

[Page 75]Prometheus theft, Ver. 74. and Jove's avenging Rage. An obscure innuendo for Virgil's plain Declara­tion of the punishment of Prometheus.

Tho tender and untry'd, the Yoak they fear'd. Meaning the Bull, as in the following Verses, but Virgil apply'd those to the Praetides, who in a Melancholic Madness, fansy'd them­selves Heifers; who tho they were afraid of the Yoke, and felt often for their Horns, yet were not so much Brutes, Ver. 79. as to look out for a Bull: And must we say, Mr. D. understood Virgil?

He thro the Forest Roves, And roars with Anguish for his absent Loves. Just contrary to Virgil, who aggravates the misery of Pasiphae, from this very consideration, that the Bull was wholly insensible of her Amours, Liv'd care­less as Brutes commonly do, and took up with any she among the Herd, without thinking of his Lady Mistriss; and Mr. Dryden takes a civil care to confute himself, in the very next Lines.

Mr. D. to shew his Complaisance for the fair Sex, says, what Virgil, whom, yet his Tran­slator represents as a Woman-hater, scorn'd to do, and what's really False. Mr. D. must not measure all by his own. Virtue, for ought I know, may survive among some of that Sex, when Men have quite lost it.

How each arising Alder now appears, And o'er the Po distills her Gummy Tears. Ver. 91. But do Alders distil Gum?Some indeed says they were chang'd in­to Alders, but they say nothing of the Gum. What Arborist told him so, Virgil uses Alnus for Populus; but his Translator has no such Liberty, except [Page 76] when he has a mind to add a fine Line only to expose himself.

Ver. 96. And Linus thus their Gratitude exprest. For what? Wherein had Gallus been such a Benefactor to them? And what has the Good Man done with Divino Carmine Pastor Flori­bus atque Apio crines ornatus amaro? Was Virgil's Muse so dull, that Mr. D. could make nothing of it? But, to make amends for what's wanting here, he mistakes Hesiod soon after for Orpheus, Who with his Pipe of old had Charm'd the Savage Train, for we hear of no such thing by Hesiod.

Ver. 101.2, 3, 4.What Mr. D. meant here I know not, I'm sure he Translates not Virgil, unless among his several Editions, he has some Copy very wide of Ours.

Ver. 105. Why should I sing the double Scylla's Fate? There were two Scylla's indeed, One the Daughter of Phorcus, the other of Nisus. But Ruaeus thinks Virgil speaks of but one, and his Text agrees with his Comment, but which of the two means Mr. D. by The beau­teous Maid deform'd? What English Reader will know whose Fleet was devour'd by her? Virgil leaves neither of these things really Ambiguous, but his Interpreter leaves both so, that the whole may be the plainer.

Ver. 113. And how in Fields the Lapwing Tereus reigns. Lapwings are no royal Birds, nor can they pretend to the same command which Tereus had in his Country. And Virgil takes no notice of Philomela's Musick, but of her [Page 77] Cookery, in which she joyn'd with Progne, v. Ovid Metam. l. 6.

Had taught the Laurels and the Spartan Flood. Ver. 118. Virgil says no such thing, but the River Eurotas had heard Phoebus sing such things, and the Banks being cover'd with Laurels, the River taught those Laurels the same Songs which she had heard. The other 7 Lines are such Stuff, so full a mistake of Virgil's Sence, and debauch his Fancy so scan­dalously, as Ogylby would have been a­sham'd of.

ECLOGUE VII.

BEneath a Holm. Ver. 1. Sub Ilice, under an Oak of a particular kind indeed, and such as is common in Italy.

The Father of my Flock. Ver. 8. Mr. D. seems very fond of this Catachresis in several places, as in the former Eclogue, The Husband of the Herd, but such Figures, tho' graceful in the Original are absurd in the Version, and not to be endur'd.

Here wanton Mincius winds along the Meads— again.Ver. 15. And see from you old Oak that, for which▪ mates the Skies, both meer Drydenisms, or ungraceful Impertinencies; besides the Swarms did not rise from the Tree, but [...]umm'd in it, as in the Hive in a still, warm Evening.

To house and feed by Hand my weaning Lambs. Ver. 21. Another as bad. Virgil's saying is, [Page 78] they were not at hand to take 'em from their Dams, and shut 'em up when they had suck'd enough, nor has he any thing about their dreining the Dams, which after good lugging by the Lambs, could not Strut much.

Ver. 25. Alternos Musae meminisse volebant, is quite sunk.

Ver. 27.9. Your Muses ever fair and ever young—With all, my Codrus, O inspire my Breast, the first Silly, the last Nonsence.

Ver. 38.Fence my Brows with Amulets of Bays, Baccare frontem Cingite. There may be some dispute about what kind of Plant Baccar is, but Mr. D.'s the first I believe who makes it Bays, which, tho' they might be good against Thunder, supposing Laurel and Bays, Synonymous, are no Specifick against Witchcraft, or Fascination.

Ver. 42.(The first Essay of Arms untry'd before,) Mr. D. will be adding without Sence or Rea­son; Virgil intimates nothing of all this. I observe, he's mighty fond of his Parian Stone or Marble, which yet the Poet mentions on­ly once as I remember, in his Aeneids; but the Translator would have it look as if Vir­gil or Theocritus had never heard of any other Marble but that. Thy Legs in Buskins with a purple Band, is an Original.

Ver. 52.Here the Translator's mad, every Line be­trays his Stupidity; first Galatea comes in with her Silver Feet, a very fine Epithet, and the right meaning of Nerine. Tall as a Poplar, taper as the Bole; because they say, Man's a Tree invert­ed, [Page 79] I suppose by this, Galatea was one of Mrs. Behn's She-Giants, and the fitter Mistress for that handsome Gentleman Polyphemus; but what's all this to the Poets Haederâ formosior albâ? The next is a most exquisite Paraphrase of Si qua tui Corydonis habet' te cura, venito. But then follows a Flower, Come when my lated Sheep at Night return. I suppose Cory­don's Oxen had undergone the Noble Experi­ment of transfusion, and so were become Sheep. Now such a wonderful Operation might Crown the silent Hours, and stop the rising Morn; if that prety verse has any meaning in it.

Here Mr. D. resolves to out-do his Author, Ver. 51. and Thyrsis, to aggravate his Uglyness, must be black as Night, and what's much stranger, Deform'd like him, who chaws Sardinian Herb­age to contract his Iaws. Sardinian Herbage, is a very general Word; and sure all the Herbs in Sardinia were not of a malignant Nature; or did ever any Man eat 'em only that his Iaws might be contracted? Naturalists talk of a Plant in Sardinia, of which, whosoever pretended to eat, was presently taken with a Fit of Laughter, in which he Dy'd: Thyrsis wishes that he might be as nauseous, or bitter to his Mistress, and consequently as odious as that Plant to those who knew of it, if he did not think that Day longer than a Year, in which she was absent; how close Mr. D. comes to this Sence! In the next Lines in the Poet, Thyrsis rates his Bullocks home, that his Mistress might come to him. Mr. D. [Page 80] will have the Bullocks Sheep still, and will talk absurdly, while his Author gives him good Sence.

Ver. 66.7. Ye Mossy Springs inviting easy Sleep, Ye Trees whose leafy shade those Mossy Fountains keep; How much nearer is Mr. Ogylby to Virgil. Ye Mossy Springs and Grass more soft than Sleep, and verdant Boughs which you with Shadows keep, but they're both out in— Iam laeto turgent in palmite gemmae, for the Gemmae are neither Grapes nor Blossoms ▪ But those Budds which put out from the Stock at every joynt, and shoot out into those an­nual Branches which bear the Grapes.

Ver. 70. With heapy Fires. A Senceless Expression.

Ver. 80. Nor withering Vines their jucy Vintage yield, which is far from Virgil's meaning in Liber pampineas invidit collibus umbras, i. e. Bac­chus envies the Hillocks, those shady Vines which us'd to cover them, and what's that to the Vintage? Mr. Ogylby much better. And Bacchus viny Shades denies the Hills. The words are not so well placed, but his mean­ing is the same with Virgil's, which the o­thers is not.

Ver. 84.Those Seven Lines are the best I have yet met with in Seven Eclogues, and they come nearest to Virgil's, but they are run out to a luxurious length, quite beneath Virgil's closeness and majesty. They'd have look'd pretty well in Ovid, but they are too light here.

[Page 81] Abies in Montibus altis. Ver. 94. Is blown quite away, which Ogylby found room for in four Lines, but Mr. D. could not croud into six.

I've heard, Ver. 96. for Haec Memini. And Thyrsis you contend in vain. The Apostrophe is ex­treamly ungraceful, and the following Verses unjustifiable from any thing which Virgil says.

ECLOGUE VIII.

MR. D. somewhere tells us, that the Pre­face to the Pastorals, the Essay before the Georgics, and the Arguments, were done by some Friends of his. I don't find his Friends infallible, tho somewhat less mistaken than himself: But since they were so kind, it had been civil in Mr. D. to have read what they had Written; it might have made his own Sence better, and have clear'd his Under­standing, in some Particulars. Among o­thers, in the beginning of this Pastoral, where he talks of.

The Mournful Muse of two despairing Swains, Ver. 1. i. e. Damon, and a certain Old Witch, as he represents her. Damon, indeed complains of the falshood of his Love in preferring his Rival to himself, but Alphesibaeus only repre­sents the Conjurations of an Old Woman, to reconcile a Young giddy-headed Fellow to her own decrepid Passions, and what was there in all this to cast honest Alphesibaeus into de­spair? Nay, and himself in his Epistle to [Page 82] my Lord Clifford, says, The former part is the complaint and despair of a forsaken Lover, the latter a Charm of an Enchantress, to renew a lost Affection; but nothing can be more plea­sant than

Ver. 2. The Love rejected, and the Lovers Pains, which aggravates his former mistake. And

Ver. 4. The Rivers stood on Heaps, and stopp'd the running Flood, which is so exquisite a piece of Nonsence, as his famous Hind and Panther can scarce furnish us with. By the Rivers he can't mean the Gods of the Rivers: They could no more stand on Heaps, than Gods meet with Gods, and justle in the Dark; if not them, then he must by Rivers mean the running Floods, which is a kind of a Bull too; but allowing that all the favour imagi­nable, the noble Verse will amount to this, the Rivers stood on heaps and stopp'd the Ri­vers, this it is, to have a great Genius. Not to observe the false English, for if the Rivers in the Plural Number stopp'd any thing, they must stop the Floods in the same Number, unless there were some Rivers which had no Streams, and this Mr. D. in days of Yore might have learnt at Westminster. The Sixth Verse is only a dull Repetition of the former Non­sence, which perhaps he mistook for a Beauty, not having the Conduct of the Infallible Hind.

Ver. 7, 8. Thou for whom thy Rome prepares, the ready Triumph of thy finish'd Wars. If the Triumph were ready, why were they now to prepare it? [Page 83] The Complaint as design'd by Mr. D. had been fitter for Augustus, than Pollio, for whom, had it been a suitable Speech, Virgil would scarce have left it for him to make.

In Numbers like to thine could I Rehearse Thy lofty Tragic Scenes, Ver. 13, 14, 15, 16. thy labour'd verse, The World another Sophocles in thee, Another Ho­mer should behold in me. All this is Heavenly wide from Virgil's sence; it may be, Mr. D. who has always some unfathomable thought in his Head, design'd these Lines as a Court to some of his old Patrons; but it was a high kick to pretend to be a Homer to any body, (tho I don't remember Homer ever wrote any thing in praise of Sophocles,) since Mr. D. by his Flatterers, nay, by the best Critic in En­gland, can be thought to resemble him in nothing but his blindness, which is no fiction here.

Thine was my earliest Muse, Ver. 1 [...]. my latest shall be thine. Virgil's is, A te Principium, tibi desinet — meaning the present Eclogue should begin with him, and end to his Honour. His Traducer makes him a Lyar, for the Aeneids, Virgil's last Work, say nothing of Pollio as I remem­ber.

And wildly staring upwards, Ver. 22. thus inveigh'd Against the conscious Gods, and curst the cruel Maid. What a Maximin of a Shepherd have we here? This it is to have a Brain full of Blasphemous Idaeas; the Chastest of Poets must be Polluted, rather than a little Atheistic flight smother'd. Why, Mr. Translator distinguish­ed [Page 84] not the Dialogists by their Names, is be­yond my dull Apprehension.

Ver. 30. Begin my Flute — I'm afraid there were no Flutes in use, among either the Sicilian or Italian Shepherds; if they are mention'd at the Dedication of Nebuchadnezzar's Image, that won't help the matter.

Ver. 33. They hear the Hinds, &c. Hinds are Husband­men, such as follow the Plow, or labour in the Harvest, not Shepherds, and therefore Pan, not their God.

Ver. 39. Shall see the Hound and Hind their thirst as­swage, Promiscuous at the Spring— Why not as well as the Hind and Panther lodge together in one Cell?

Ver. 40. For him thou hast refus'd my browzing Herd. For Goats, a very pretty Figure! as if none browze but Goats, or as if their browzing were a great Circumstance to their Commendation, especially in a hard Winter; but why was the Fistula left out, unless, because Fistula and Tibia would not both signifie the Flute? And I conclude, the Tibiae pares dextrae & sinistrae in the Inscriptions of Terence's Comedies, were not Flutes. But the Music in those Days of Pastorals, was generally more valu'd than the Flock, and it may be Damon's Complaint is grounded on this, that Mopsus was Richer indeed, had greater Flocks, but was a Fool of a Poet, in comparison with himself. Nay, Mr. Dryden almost acknowledges this himself, in that pretty Supplement of his Unhappy Damon— sighs, and sings in vain.

[Page 85] The callow Down began to cloth my Chin. Ver. 57. On my word 'twas very early to have a bud­ing Beard at Twelve: Love begins sometimes among Children, and by their Mutual Famili­arity advances with their Years. But perhaps a precoce Beard may be a Symptom of an early Wit. Here's not a word of Nisa's gathering Apples with her Mother, but only gathering Crabs with Damon, a scurvy Omen of what follow'd: but for a Diamond of Virgil's, Mr. D. thrusts into our Hands a Pebble of his own, as any who compares this Period with the Original, will observe. Then soarce the bend­ing Branches I could win, Is an Incomparable Phrase, for I could but just reach 'em. This is to honour our Mother-tongue.

Poor Virgil's so curtail'd by his Interpreter, Ver. 60. that in this Period he could never know him­self, mean as my Poetry is, I'm tempted to give that Divine Poet this Translation, at least more agreeable to his way of speaking than Mr. D's D' O [...]ly.

Now, now I know thee Love! Thy Birth must be
On horrid Tmaros, or cold Rhodope,
Or in the inmost Libya's dismall wild,
Hideous with threatning Rocks, and Sand untill'd,
No Humane Blood e'er fill'd thy Barbarous Veins.
Begin, my Pipe, with me, begin Maenalian streins.

Nay, the despis'd Mr. Ogylby's more par­donable here, than our Quondam Laureat. Now the Spirit of Translation's on me, I'd venture one step farther.

Dire Love the Mothers tender Heart subdu'd,
And in her Childrens Blood, her Hands embru'd;
[Page 86]Ah cruel! ah unnatural Mother she!
Was she more cruel, or more wicked he?
His wicked, hers a cruel part remains.
Begin, my Pipe, with me begin Maenalian streins.

Ver. 68. Alien of Birth, Usurper of the Plains. There Convenience went first, the Sence follows.

Ver. 70. Old Doting Nature, change thy Course anew. As if Nature had chang'd her Course formerly, and now was civilly desir'd to do so again for a poor despairing Swain. But why should Mr. D. rail at Nature, just as an Unitarian would at the Church, when Virgil's Damon had no­thing to say to her.

Ver. 75. And hooting Owls contend with Swans in Skill. For Skill they're much alike, nay, the Owl has the advantage, as Practising most; indeed, those who have heard 'em both, think the Swan may have somewhat the sweet­er voice.

Ver. 78. Or, oh! Let Nature cease, and Chaos Reign. And there's Convenience before Sence again, and a little Nonsence too, unless Mr. D. reflects on an old Harmonious Gentleman, whose Go­vernment, Milton describes Book II. But I'm perswaded Virgil, who had never read Paradise lost, knew nothing of him. The Old Poets Chaos was quite another thing.

Ver. 82. Farewel, ye secret Woods and shady Groves, Haunts of my Youth, and Conscious of my Loves. A prety Paraphrase on Vivite Sylvae, but such as wherein Virgil's Character is entirely lost.

[Page 87] Rehearse his Friends Complaint, Ver. 88. and mighty Magic verse. Complaint was to carry on his initial Mistake, that the whole might be of a piece, according to honest Horace's directions. But what's meant by Alphesibaeus's mighty Ma­gic verse? Is that the English of non omnia possumus omnes? I can't think the Shepherd was a Conjurer, but only Personated a Witch for a while, without designing to bring any Mistress of his own, over House tops, and Woods, and Seas, to his own Arms on a Broom-staff.

'Tis done, we want but verse. Ver. 91. Why Carmi­na signifies not verses here, but a set Form of Words to be made use of, by which all the Magic Operation, might become effectual. Mr. D. I know, is acquainted with good Authors, and perhaps, may have met with Fulgurita sesquiamocca terincta leponta infernonida Utri­bosca, &c. (some Copies read it otherwise.) but this will do with a due Preparation, if us'd in a cold Morning, with one Stocking on, the other off, and wholly Fasting, But whether those words make a verse or no, I leave to Mr.D. to find out. He seems more sensible in the very next words, where he makes Carmina, Charms, tho the following Lines be but a very lame Version of Ducite ab urbe domum, &c.

Pale Phoebe drawn by verse, from Heaven descends. Ver. 95. I don't believe all the verses which Mr. Dryden ever made, and he has in his time, made a world of Thundering Lines, could e­ver show us this Miracle: Nay, I don't be­lieve [Page 88] that verse, quà verse will do the Feat. The very same Charms which chang'd Ulys­ses's Companions, may do great-things: But Charms are not necessary in verse, as Mr. D. may find in Cornelius Agrippa's Occult Philo­sophy.

Ver. 97, 99. Verse breaks the Ground, and penetrates the Brake, Verse fires the frozen Veins— Now could I almost Recant my precedent Talk; this is certainly Conjuring— Latet Anguis— That pe­netrating the Brake, is to me unintelligible, and may be like Abracadabra for ought I know. I can't tell what verse may fire the Frozen veins, whether Mr. D's Translation of a Period in Lucretius, which I remember I once saw; such are a Hellish kind of Charms indeed, and it's pity but the Conjurers should meet with his Lot, who Congregating all the Serpents in a Country into one Ditch, was by one of 'em drawn into the Ditch and devour'd among them.

Ver. 103. Thrice bind about his thrice devoted Head.— Hence it's plain that the Translator's a more through-pac'd Conjurer than his Master.

Ver. 115. Crumble the Sacred Mole.— Is this Inter­preting his Author, or making him less Intel­ligible? How much will an Ingenious Lady, but not much acquainted with the old Me­thods of Witch-craft and Sacrificing, Edifie by that Appellative, the Sacred Mole? The plain meaning Ogylby calls it a Cake, and such it was, tho of a particular Composition.

[Page 89]Thus Daphnis burn away, Ver. 118. This Laurel is his Fate— But if Daphnis melted away as that burnt, he'd be quickly wasted to nothing, and could only come to her as Almahide pro­mis'd to come to her Spark Almanzor, and Embrace her only with empty Arms, as a great Author has it.

While I so scorn his Love— How's that?Ver. 127. As the Bull scorns the Heifer. Virgil intimates no such thing, but her seeking for one in vain. And so the Enchanters would have Daphnis in Love, so as she, by playing at Bo-Peep with him, may enflame him with the great­er violence of Love; which down right scorn would not be so likely to effect.

And from the Roots to tear the standing Corn, Ver. 143, 4. Which whirl'd a loft to distant Fields is born. Not to observe the word Negromancer for Ne­c [...]mancer, as one fit to Translate Homer, would have call'd him, if Mr. D. meant the same here as Virgil did, it's a very odd way of Expressing it. The Romans who believ'd Magic could Transplant one Man's standing Corn into anothers Ground, where the Corn should be shill standing and growing, had a very ancient Law against such Practices; Neve alienam Se­getem pellexeris. But that Law speaks as if the Magician had some wheadling Trick to perswade the Corn to remove to another Quar­ter; as the Romans when they had a design on some Enemy-Cities Tutelar God; but this whirling it aloft, seems no very proper way to make it grow, but lie on heaps in the design­ed Field.

[Page 90] Ver. 150. Break out ye smother'd Fires, and kindle smother'd Love! What can Mr. D. mean by this? Was throwing Ashes into the Brook the way to make 'em break out into a Flame? It was the way to smother Fire indeed, but hardly to kindle it; It's meer Riddle, nor can the precedent or consequent Words ex­plain it. Mr. D. is here again at his God-like Verse, but there being so much of Ceremony in Magical Operations, the Gods were suppos'd concurrent willingly, or by force with the Magicians design. Now Daphnis is complain­ed of as neither regarding the Gods them­selves, nor those Charms, not those Verses, in which their particular and extraordinary In­fluences are concern'd; the Witch I conclude, was no great Poet, what e'er Mr. D. is.

Ver. 154. The waking Ashes rise, and round our Altars play: No, but the Ashes of themselves burst out into a trembling Flame, which blaz'd round the Altar, but these were not the Ashes thrown into the Brook, but what continu'd about the Altar unremov'd.

Run to the Threshold, Amaryllis, hark! Our Hylax opens and begins to bark. Ver. 155. Now Virgil's Witch sent Amaryllis on no such silly Errand, but listn'd her self. Hylax open'd, i. e. he Bark'd, and began to Bark, which is very Emphatical.

May Lovers what they Wish believe; Or Dream their Wishes, Ver. 157, 8. and those Dreams deceive Is a very perplext Illustration of a plain Questi­on. — An qui amant ipsi sibi somnia fingunt?

[Page 91] He comes, Ver. 160. he runs, he leaps to my designing Arms. Doubtless, he was wondrous fond of his old Lady, but they say, Those who are brought any whither by Magical Powers, look more like Dogs who have burnt their Tails, than such a brisk Fellow, as Mr. D. here represents. But he, who (to indulge a Lewd Thought) Translates Parcite, ab urbe venit, jam parcite carmina, Daphnis; in this manner, may make any thing of any thing, and be fit to Translate Pindar Twenty Years hence.

ECLOGUE IX.

THE time is come I never thought to see, Ver. 1. &c. Here's Nonsence, and a gross mistake of the Poets meaning, but Mr. D. must be pardon­ed for it, since it's the blunder of Servius, and the rest of the Commentators, who follow him, among the rest Ruaeus; yet the very Argu­ment of the Eclogue might have taught him, and Mr. D. better. Virgil comes by Autho­rity from Augustus to re-enter upon his Lands, and escapes very narrowly with his Life: He flies to Rome again for protection, but leaves his Servant, whom Moeris here repre­sents, to Cicurate and Mollifie the Temper of the present Usurper, lest those left behind should incur the same danger; Moeris goes trembling, but in hast, with his two Kids to atone him, whom Lycidas meets with, and asks him whi­ther, not whether so fast; to whom with re­spect to Dangers past, Moeris answers, O Lyci­das [Page 92] thus far we have scap'd alive; O that (what we never fear'd) a Stranger, in posses­sion of our Farm, should say, these Lands are mine, away you who till'd them before, where should follow an Exclamation! And thus both the Grammar and Reason stand good, which, according to the common Interpreta­tion of it, are both in Ieopardy.

Ver. 7.Pack up ye Rascals—Veteres migrate coloni. Now whether Veteres coloni signifie Rascals, I leave to our honest Yeomen and Farmers to determine.

Ver. 8. Kick'd out, we set the best Face on't we could, Mr. D. could not leave Virgil here for the sake of a soft, sweet sounding Verse, but, tho' we should allow Victi signifies kick'd out, no Dictionary in the World would teach him to Construe, Contristari, to set a good Face on the Matter.

Ver. 11. That from the sloping Mountain to the Vale, And dodder'd Oak, and all the Banks along, This is Mr. D's. Terrar of Virgil's Lands, by which abuttals, were Virgil alive again, he'd never be able to find 'em out. Virgil, who had better Skill in these Matters, makes the foot of the Mountain its boundary on one part, and an old doted Beech, which Mr. D. calls a dod­der'd Oak, on the other, and the River to wash the side of it, and these might be known again, so long as in being, and would be very intelligible Land-marks

Ver. 19.20. And had not Phoebus warn'd me by the Croak Of an old Raven from a Hollow Oak[Page 93] To pass by his Plump of trembling Fowl, which can't be apply'd to Chaonian Doves, and his Sousing Eagle, which I believe he never met with in Latham, why is Phoebus brought in here? It was the Sinistra Cornix, which he will have again to be a Croaking Raven, (for he hates to commit a single Fault) not Phoebus, which warn'd him; however the cava Ilex is not the blasted Bough, but the hollow Oak, for which I hope we are ob­lig'd to his second Thoughts; The next two Lines both in Virgil and his Translator, con­firm my Observation on the—Vivi perve­nimus.

Can never pass for a just Translation of Virgil's 17 and 18.Ver. 23, 4. What Lycidas speaks here, through the whole Period, is such an abuse of the Text, as is unpardonable; there's not a Line of Virgil's in it—Who rehearse The Waters gliding in a smoother Verse? Is down­right Nonsence, And—Tend my Herd—Goats are not a Herd, but a Flock—But for Hea­vens sake who taught Mr. D. to Translate Caper, the Libyan Ridgil? I have read some­where of Goats in Libya, as big as Oxen, but were Arius, or Milienus Toro, or Claudius of that Country? Or does Mr. D. know what a Ridgil or Ridgling is? This Verse was only a warning Iargon, to have a care of him who had got possession of his Lands, because of the danger his Life would be in from his Fury; but a Ridgling, or Goat, or Ram, which has but one Testicle, perhaps mayn't be so furious [Page 94] a Creature as Virgil represents him, nor is such an imperfect Animal fit to be the Hus­band of the Herd. Ogylby's Translation gives these Verses much better, Thus,

Could any barbarous Monster use such spight?
With thee Menalcas farewell all delight.
Who'll sing to Nymphs? Who'll strew the Earth with Flowers?
Or shelter silver Springs with shady Bowers?
Or write such Verse as late I snatch'd from thee,
When thou our Amaryllis went'st to see.
Till I return, my Goats, dear Tityrus, feed
(The way is short) and Water if they need.
But as you drive 'em take especial care,
Of the He-Goat (for he will strike) beware.

Here at least we have something like Virgil, but nothing of that kind in Mr. D.

V. 36.7, 8.To show what he means by Rhymes stronger pinion'd than Swans, Mr. D. gives us that impertinent Fustian, they—shall soaring bear a­bove Th' immortal gift of Gratitude to Jove, which does not grow out of his Author.

Ver. 42. And Trees to Goats their willing Branches bend, this is one of Mr. D's. fine Thoughts, without any ground from his Author; for Gabble afterwards I suppose he meant Gaggle. Another Impertinence we have, v. 54— Where Nightingales their Love-sick Dittys sing, where the Epithet's very improper, Nightin­gales Sing Mournful, not Love-sick Dittys, Philomel had no occasion for them.

Ver. 6 [...].4: Why, Daphnis, dost thou search in old Re­cords, To know the Seasons when the Stars arise? What Records does he mean, Lily's or Gad­bury's? [Page 95] Virgil mentions indeed the old ri­sing Stars, or Constellations, as not worth ob­serving when the Iulium Sidus appear'd so bright above the rest, tho' perhaps it was no more than a Comet after all.

Mr. D. describes his own Case appositely e­nough,Ver. 70—75. and would he but, for the sake of that acknowledg'd Truth, have forborn this unhappy Translation, he had sav'd, in some measure, his Friends Purses, and his own Re­putation.

Hush'd Winds, Ver. 80. the topmost Branches scarcely bend, As if thy tuneful Song they did attend, this is running division upon a Word far­ther than 'twill bear, but this Caprificus must burst out, or Mr. D. were undone.

Or if e're Night the gathering Clouds we fear, Ver. 88. A Song will help the beating Storm to bear—A Song then it seems is better than a Dipt Hat and Cloak, it's pity but Mr. D. had a Pattent for making these Weather-fencing Songs; it would make him some Com­pensation for the loss of his Laurel. But, for all this gay flourish, Virgil meant no more than this, that if they were afraid of a Shower yet before Night, a merry Song would make 'em go nimbly enough to scape it, in order to which he makes Lycidas offer Moeris very civilly to carry his Burthen for him.

The Conclusion of this Eclogue, fares like the rest, and the whole looks like rich Tissue, [Page 96] cover'd so thick with Copper-lace, that the Ground can't be seen for't.

ECLOGUE X.

THis Eclogue is Translated in a Strein too luscious and effeminate for Virgil, who might bemoan his Friend, but does it in a noble and a manly Stile, which Mr. O­gylby answers better than Mr. D. whose Para­phrase looks like one of Mrs. Behns, when some body had turn'd the Original into English Prose before.

Ver. 19. &c.Where Virgil says, Lauri & myricae fle­vêre, the Figures beautiful where Mr. D. says, the Laurel stands in Tears, And hung with hu­mid Pearls the lowly Shrub appears, the Figure is lost, and a foolish and impertinent Repre­sentation comes in its place; an ordinary Dewy Morning might fill the Laurels and Shrubs with Mr. D's. Tears, tho' Gallus had not been concern'd in it.

Ver. 27. And yet the Queen of Beauty blest his Bed— Here Mr. D. comes with his ugly patch upon a beautiful Face: What had the Queen of Beauty to do here, Lycoris did not despise her Lover for his meanness, but because she had a mind to be a Catholick Whore. Gallus was of Quality, but her Spark a poor inferior Fellow. And yet the Queen of Beauty, &c. would have followed there very well, but not where want on Mr. D. has fixt her.

[Page 97] Flush'd were his Cheeks, Ver. 32. and glowing were his Eyes. This Character is fitter for one that's Drunk, than one in an Amazement, and is a Thought unbecoming Virgil.

And for thy Rival, Ver. 35. tempts the raging Sea, The forms of horrid War, and Heavens Incle­mency. Lycoris doubtless, was a jilting Ba­gage, but why should Mr. D. belye her? Virgil talks nothing of her going to Sea, and perhaps she had a mind to be only a Camp Laundress, which Office she might be advanc'd to without going to Sea: The forms of horrid War, for horrida castra, is incomparable.

His Brows, Ver. 37, 38. a Country Crown of Fennel, and of nodding Lilies drown. Is a very odd Fi­gure: Sylvanus had swinging Brows to drown such a Crown as that, i. e. to make it Invisible, to swallow it up; if it be a Country Crown drown his Brows, it's false English.

The Meads are sooner drunk with Morning Dews. Ver. 43, 44 Rivi signifies no such thing; but then, that Bees should be drunk with Flowry Shrubs, or Goats be drunk with Brouze, for Drunk's the Verb, is a very quaint Thought.

So sad a Song is only worthy you. Ver. 50. Is a most exact Translation of soli cantare periti Arcades— which no body can deny.

Tho Phyllis's brown — &c.Ver. 57, 61. Is all so silly, and beside the Cushion, and the last so lewd, and unbecoming Virgil's Chastity and Modesty, as is unpardonable.

As you are Beauteous, Ver. 65. were you half so true, Here could I Live, and Love, and only Dye with [Page 98] you. Virgil makes not Gallus talk so dubiously; he's fond of Lycoris, and is for Dying with her, without reserve; if she were but with him, he'd be satisfied without so nice an in­quisition into her Loyalty: The latter Line I'm afraid was borrow'd from an Ode in the Gen­tleman's Iournal.

Ver. 68. And strive in Winter Camps — Gallus talks of no such things.

Ver. 73. Those are not Limbs for Icicles to tear. How delicate or course soever the Limbs of Lycoris might be Icicles seldom tear 'em; I have heard indeed of one, whose Throat was cut with an Icicle; but never of any rent or torn with them.

Ver. 79. And as the Rind extends — No it should be as the Letters extend, and grow larger on the Rind, so let our Loves increase.

Ver. 88, 89, 90, 91.Is turning Virgil into Ovid, and running looser than Ovid himself would do.

Ver. 94. Or Italy's indulgent Heaven forego — What had Italy to do here? Or where would Mr. D. fix his Scene?

Ver. 98. In Hell, and Earth, and Seas, and Heaven above. Is all Tautology, when that best Tran­slated Line in all the Eclogues follows, Love Conquers all, and we must yield to Love; the precedent Line was only for convenience of Rhyme.

Ver. 104, 5. The Song because inspir'd by you shall shine, And Gallus will approve, because 'tis mine. Which is a Conclusion not agreeable to Virgil's modesty; and far from — Vos haec facietis maxima Gallo.

[Page 99] As Alders in the Spring their Boles extend, Ver. 108, 9. And heave so fiercely, that the Bark they rend. Is meer Fustian, and false in Thought, and Re­semblance, and false in Fact, and absurd in Expression.

That Mr. Dryden might be satisfied that I'd offer no foul Play, nor find Faults in him, without giving him an opportunity of Retaliation, I have subjoin'd another Me­taphrase or Translation of the I. and IV. Pastoral, which I desire may be read with his by the Original.

Tityrus, ECLOGUE I.

Melib.
BEneath a spreading Beech, you Tity­rus lie,
And Country Songs to humble Reeds apply;
We our sweet Fields, our Native Country fly,
We leave our Country; you in Shades may lie,
And Amaryllis Fair and Blithe Proclaim,
And make the Woods repeat her buxom Name.
Ti.
O Melibaeus! 'twas a bounteous God
These Peaceful Play-days on our Muse bestow'd;
At least, he'st alway be a God to me;
My Lambs shall oft his grateful Offerings be.
Thou seest, he lets my Herds securely stray,
And me at Pleasure on my Pipe to play.
Me.
Your Peace I don't with Looks of Envy view,
But I admire your happy state, and you.
In all our Farms severe Distraction reigns,
No ancient Owner, there in peace remains.
Sick I, with much ado, my Goats can drive,
This, Tityrus, I scarce can lead alive;
[Page 100]On the bare Stones, among yon Hazles past
Just now, alas! her hopeful Twins she cast.
Yet, had not all on's dull and senseless been,
We'd long agon this coming Stroke forseen.
Oft did the blasted Oakes our Fate unfold,
And boding Coughs from hollow Trees foretold.
But say, good Tityrus! tell me who's the God,
Who Peace, so lost to us, on you bestow'd?
Ti.
Troth Melibaeus, I, a Homespun Clown,
Thought that call'd Rome, just like our Neighbour­ing Town,
Where Thou and I were wont to drive our Sheep,
And Mercats with our Suckling Lambs to keep.
So little Whelps like bigger Dogs I'd known,
Kids like their Dams, but not so largely grown;
Thus little Things, I'd oft with Great compare:
But Rome o'er-tops all other Towns as far
As Cypress Groves the Fields of bending Brome,
Me.
But what great cause could make you visit Rome?
Ti.
Sweet Liberty, which, as I lazing lay,
Look'd on my Dullness with a Gracious Ray,
Smil'd on a Head just white with Aged Snow,
And came at last, tho all her Steps were slow.
Nor have I sigh'd for Galatea more
Since Amaryllis in my Heart I wore.
It's true, while fast in Galatea's Chain,
My Liberty, I little hop'd to gain.
Unwash'd my Flocks, my Herd at random stray'd,
And tho I all my Offerings duely paid
With Cheese of purest Cream; I still might come
Empty from her ingrateful Mercats home.
Me.
Oft had I wondr'd, Galatea, why
Thou Prayd'st to Heaven with such a doleful cry.
I wonder'd oft the meaning, why so long
Thy Apples on the Trees ungather'd hung;
'Twas all for Tityrus; their absent Lord
The Groves, the Springs, the very Shrubs deplor'd.
Ti.
[Page 101]
What should I do? I could not break my Chain,
Nor Gods so good in all our Country Gain.
But here, my Friend, I saw that Youth Divine,
To whom each Month my grateful Altars shine;
His Oracle that God-like Language spoke,
Feed on your Bullocks, Lads, your Oxen Yoke.
Me.
Happy old Man! you then your Farm may keep,
Lands large enough, tho craggy part and steep,
And slimy Marrome all the Marshes spread;
Your Flocks may be in usual Pastures fed.
No scabby Neighbours shall disturb them there,
Nor they a taint from their Infection fear.
Happy old Man! Cool gentle Breezes you
Here, by known Streams, and Sacred Springs pursue.
You Sallow Hedge which parts the Neighbouring Field,
Will to your Bees abundant Pastures yield.
Drawn by whose pretty murmurs, silent Sleep
Oft o'er your weary Eyes will calmly creep.
From Bushy Rocks the Linet sweetly sing,
Whose Notes to you, the Tuneful Air shall bring,
While your lov'd Cooing Stock-Doves round you groan;
And from the lofty Elm, the sighing Turtles moan.
Ti.
First, then shall Stags along the Welkin feed,
Or flying Seas, desert their scaly Breed.
The wandring Parthian first shall drink the Soan,
And Germany on Tigris Banks be shown;
Each Nation thro' the others Bounds shall fly,
E'er his lov'd Image in my Breast shall die.
Me.
But we, alas! the World must wander o'er,
Some to the farthest Africk's thirsty Shore;
Or toward Inhospitable Scythia's Cold,
Or where Oaxis rapid Streams are roll'd.
Nay, some quite thrust from all our civil World,
Must on the savage British Coasts be hurl'd.
[Page 102]Ah! Could I hope, when tedious years are past,
To see my lov'd, my Native Soil at last!
Once more my poor Thatch'd Cottage Roofs ad­mire,
And ne'er to greater Royalties aspire?
Must barbarous Troops our labour'd Tilth employ?
Curst Souldiers all our hopeful Crops enjoy?
See what sad Fruits our Civil Discord yields,
For whose blest use, we Till'd our fruitful Fields.
Go, Wretch! Ah could it be! in artful Lines,
Go Graft thy Pears, and Prune thy stragling Vines.
Be gone my once dear happy Flock, be gone!
No more shall I in mossy Grotts alone,
Streak out at ease, and see you clambring go,
Hang o'er the Rocks, and crop the Shrubs below.
No more, alass! you'll hear my Country Strains,
No more be fed by me along the Plains;
Nor shall I lead where Milkie Trefoil grows,
Nor where you'd on the bitter Sallows browze.
Ti.
Yet, here however, Lodge with me to Night,
I can but to a Leavy Couch invite.
I've mellow Fruit, and downy Chesnuts here,
Green Cheese, and such, make up our Country Cheer.
And see yon Village Chimnies smoaking all,
And longer Shadows nor from lofty Mountains fall.

PASTORAL IV. Or Pollio. A Poem rising somewhat above the She­pherd's Strein, and somewhat imitated in the Translation.

TAke now my Rustic Muse a Nobler flight!
All won't in Trees, and lowly Shrubs delight.
[Page 103]If Woods, we'll sing, those very Woods must be
Advanc'd to suit a Consul's Dignity.
Now the Cumaean Prophecy's fullfill'd,
And rolling Years more happy Ages yield.
Now comes the Virgin, whose soft Smiles presage
Another Saturn's Reign, a Golden Age.
Now from kind Heaven descends a God-like Race,
May thy chast Hands the coming Infant grace,
In whose blest Times Hell's stubborn Brood shall cease,
And Heavenly Virtue fill the World with Peace!
His Birth, Lucina's greatest Work remains,
Be kind! in him, thy own Apollo Reigns;
Since, Pollio! thy auspicious Year came in,
The glorious Age, the mighty Months begin.
If any taint of former Guilt remains,
Thy happy Hand shall Purge the Crimson Stains.
The World no more their black Effects shall fear,
When thou thy Standard in their Front shalt rear.
He'll live a God, and Saints, and Angels see,
And he again their dearest Object be;
And with his Father's Might immensely Crown'd,
The World he'll manage in a Peace profound.
To thee, sweet Boy, the Soil untill'd shall bring,
And at thy Feet, her little Beauties fling;
Fox-Gloves, and creeping Ivy every where,
And Niles gay Bean, with smiling Iasmines bear.
Flocks scarce shall drag their weighty Vdders home,
And Herds unscar'd by Lions, freely roam.
Thy Cradle shall with fragrant Blossoms spring,
The Poisonous Serpent loose her fatal Sting.
No Venome more, shall Iuicy Plants disclose,
And every Hedge shall bear the Syrian Rose.
But as the Youth his mighty Fathers Deeds,
The Heroes praise, and Virtues Nature reads.
The Self-sown Crop shall load the ripening Field,
And roughest Thorns their purple Clusters yield.
[Page 104]The hardest Oaks shall sweat with tastful Dew,
And Honey still the Golden Drops renew.
Yet shall some steps of ancient Frauds remain,
And some shall try the rolling Seas again;
Some shall their Towns with lofty Walls surround,
And some with Furrows break the harmless Ground.
Tiphys shall live, and Argo float again,
And waft selected Heroes o'er the Main.
New Wars shall rise, and great Achilles rage
Once more against the Trojan Walls ingage.
But when firm Age, thy Manly strength shall show,
The daring Sailor shall the Seas forego;
Merchants shall send abroad their Ships no more,
But every thing shall every Country store.
Untill'd the Corn, unprun'd the Vines shall grow,
Rough Hinds discharge their Bullocks from the Plough.
No artful Colours shall the Wool disguise,
But on the Rams a lovely Purple rise.
A deep laid Crimson all their Fleeces line,
And sucking Lambs with Native Scarlet shine.
May such blest Ages from our Distaff flow!
The Fates, with one Consent, determine so,
And cry'd, So ever happy, ever go!
Off-spring of Heaven! great Iove's immortal Son!
It's time to put thy destin'd Honours on.
See the vast World beneath its Pressures reel,
Seas, Earth, and Heaven, the strong Convulsions feel!
Look yet again on Natures smiling Face.
How All with Ioys the rising Age embrace!
O might I live but long enough to raise
Notes fit to sing thy Acts unbounded praise!
Then Thracian Orpheus, Linus then shall yield,
And to my nobler Muse resign the Field.
[Page 105]Tho here the Mother, there the lovely Sire,
Calliope, and Phaebus raise the Fire,
And Orpheus she, and he his Linus breast inspire,
Should Pan himself attempt my soaring Muse,
And for his Iudge his dear Arcadia chuse;
Pan in his lov'd Arcadia's sense should be,
And in his own, inferior far to me.
Begin, sweet Babe! thy Sacred Birth to show,
And with soft smiles, thy lovely Mother know!
For thee, her Womb ten tedious Months before,
Ten tedious Months the Qualms of Breeding bore:
But where no Ioy the cloudy Parent shews,
That Child, his Guest, no favouring God will chuse,
And every Goddess will his luckless Bed refuse.

Notes on the Georgics.

VIrgil's Georgics, are call'd by Mr. Dry­den, The best Poem of the best Poet. Of his own performance, he says in this what's true of all the rest, I have too much injur'd my great Author, Epist. to Earl of Chester­field. I would have Translated him, but fear, according to the literal French and Italian Phrases I have traduced him: and this Acknow­ledgment is true, for never was Poet so abus'd, nor Mankind so impos'd on, by a Name be­fore. Virgil I know, is not the easiest Author in the World to Interpret; But Veteranes in Poetry, at least, should have sence enough to know —Quid valeant humeri, quid ferre recusent: A Camel, they say, will take no more, when he finds his Burden sufficient for his Strength: [Page 106] But there's another Beast which crouches un­der all, without Reluctance. Mr. D. may Plead Want and Poverty, and many a sorry Meal, to excuse his Attempt; but his Belly here, was nei­ther Magister Artis, nor Ingenij largitor, how­ever, it forc'd him, negatas sequi voces. And Etsi dolosi spes refulserit nummi, the Man must be too weak, who, with respect to our pre­sent Translator, Cantare credat Pegaseium me­los. But methinks, Mr. D. is soon weary of his humble Talk, and for ought I know, may desire to be understood so, That the Glean­ings of his Ephraim, Ibid. in comparison with o­thers, will surpass the Vintage of Abiezer. I hope, he means not that the Produce of his more than fumbling Age is more valuable, than the vigorous Writings of others, in their unde­clining Years; that would grate too hard upon Mr. Cr. and Mr. Con. the former of which, has us'd the World better in his Lucretius and Manilius, than ever Mr. D. could in his best Translations; but he means, this Performance of his old Age, is to be preferr'd before the volu­minous trifles of his greener Years. Now, I must confess, Mr. D. was never the Favou­rite of my Iudgment, there appear'd always somewhat forc'd and unnatural to me in his finest Pieces, which his own extravagantly cen­sorious, and injudicious Humour render'd the more notorious; but this Virgil is far the worst of all, a Poem neither tolerable when Read alone, nor when compar'd with what he calls, or few would believe, was the Original; but this will [Page 107] be more apparent afterwards. I'm some what concern'd to see Mr. D. still Railing at the Court, what, tho he lost the Laurel; Must it follow, that the Court's a place of Forgetfulness, at the best, for well-deservers? Have not his own Morals been a little infected with that Air, as he represents it? Or is Good Life now his task indeed?Ibid. I'm afraid, however he might be first cheated himself, it's no extraordinary Mo­ral accomplishment, to endeavour to recover his losses, by learning to cheat others. But can a good, unchang'd Catholick talk of losing a Maiden-head in a Cloyster? Is he relapsing to the Spanish Fryar? Constancy then, must ne­ver be the Motto of his Arms. It's an odd Complement to his Patron, That God had be­stow'd good Sense on his Lordship, but he had be­stow'd good Learning upon himself. I thought, Learning always came from the same Al­mighty Hand, who gives the Sense and Appre­hension. What has any Man which he has not receiv'd? It's very hard, that Mr. D. should represent his Patron less Religious than him­self; who thankfully acknowledges to the Al­mighty Power, the Assistance he had given him in the Beginning, the Prosecution, and Conclu­sion of his present Studies; which, therefore I conclude, he thinks, more happily perform'd, than he could have promis'd to himself. But this Rapture, perhaps, was soon after Saul had seen the Vision, and therefore ought to be past over.

[Page 108]The Essay on Georgics, it seems, is not Mr. D's, yet, whoever was the Author, since by appearing before his Work, he lays himself open to the Reader's censures; he must not take it ill, if I among others, presume to ob­serve what I think an Error in't, such is the definition of a Georgic. A Georgic is some part of the Science of Husbandry, put into a pleasing dress, and set off with all the Beauties and Em­bellishmeuts of Poetry. Now this is a good Account of the Georgic, as already Written by Hesiod or Virgil, because they have writ­ten Georgics in Verse, and set 'em off with admi­rable Beauties. But a true Georgic, that is, an exact Art of Husbandry, might be as well de­liver'd in Prose, and without any Ornament, as the Moral Rules of Pythagoras, or Epictetus; and Varro wrote Georgics as truely, tho not so pleasantly as Virgil.

GEORGIC I.

Ver. 1. WHat makes a plenteous Harvest, when to turn, The fruitful Soil, and when to sow the Corn — It's unlucky, they say, to stumble at the Threshold, but what has a plen­teous Harvest to do here? Virgil would not pretend to prescribe Rules for that which de­pends not on the Husbandman's Care, but the disposition of Heaven altogether. Indeed, the plenteous Crop depends somewhat on the good Method of Tillage, and where the Land's ill Manur'd, the Corn, without a Miracle, can [Page 109] be but indifferent, but the Harvest may be good, which is its properest Epithet, tho the Husbandman's Skill were never so indifferent. The next Sentence is too literal, and when to Plough had been Virgil's meaning, and Intel­legible to every Body; and when to sow the Corn, is a needless addition.

The care of Sheep, Ver. 3. of Oxen, and of Kine. And when to geld the Lambs, and sheer the Swine ▪ would as well have fallen under the Cura boum, quis cultus habendo sit Pecori; as Mr. D's deduction of particulars.

The Birth and Genius of the fruitful Bee, I Sing Mecaenas,Ver. 5. and I Sing to thee — But where did Experientia ever signifie Birth and Genius? Or what ground was there for such a Figure in this place? How much more Man­ly is Mr. Ogylby's Version.

What makes rich Grounds, in what Ce­lestial Signs,
'Tis good to Plough, and Marry Elms with Vines.
What best fits Cattle, what with Sheep agrees,
And several Arts improving frugal Bees, I Sing Mecaenas.

Which four Lines, tho faulty enough, are yet much more to the purpose than Mr. D's six.

From Fields and Mountains to my Song re­pair. For Patrium linquens Nemus, Ver. 22. saltusque Lycaei— Very well explain'd!

[Page 110] Ver. 23, 24. Inventer Pallas, of the fa [...]ing Oil, Thou Foun­der of the Plough, and Plough-mans Toil! Writ­ten as if these had both been Pallas's invention. The Plough-man's Toil's impertinent.

Ver. 25.The Shroud-like Cypress — Why Shroud-like? Is a Cypress pull'd up by the Roots, which the Sculpture in the last Eclogue fills Sylvanus's Hand with so very like a Shroud? Or did not Mr. D. think of that kind of Cypress us'd often for Scarves and Hat-bands at Funerals for­merly, or for Widow's Vails, &c. if so, 'twas a deep good Thought.

Ver. 26.That wear the Rural Honours, and in­crease the Year — What's meant by increasing the Year? Did the Gods or Goddesses add more Mouths, or Days, or Hours to it? Or how can Arva tueri — signifie to wear Rural Ho­nours? Is this to Translate, or abuse an Au­thor? The next Couplet are borrow'd from Ogylby, I suppose, because less to the purpose than ordinary.

Ver. 33. The Patron of the World, and Rome's peculiar Guard — Idle, and none of Virgil's, no more than the Sence of the precedent Couplet; so a­gain, he Interpolates Virgil with that and the round Circle of the Year to guide Powerful of Blessings, which thou strew'st around. A ridi­culous Latinism, and an Impertinent Addition; indeed the whole Period is but one piece of Absurdity and Nonsence, as those who lay it with the Original must find.

Ver. 42, 43. And Neptune shall resign the Fasces of the Sea. Was he Consul or Dictator there? And [Page 111] watry Virgins for thy Bed shall strive. Both ab­surd Interpolations.

Where in the void of Heaven a place is free. Ver. 47, 48. Ah happy D—n. were that place for thee! But where is that void? Or what does our Translator mean by it? He knows what Ovid says, God did to prevent such a void in Heaven, perhaps, this was then forgotten: But Virgil talks more sensibly.

The Scorpion ready to receive thy Laws. Ver. 49. No, he would not then have gotten out of his way so fast.

The Proserpine affects her silent Seat — What made her then so angry with Ascalaphus, Ver. 56. for preventing her return? She was now mus'd to Patience under the determinations of Fate, rather than fond of her Residence.

Pity the Poets, Ver. 61, 2, 3. and the Plough-mans cares, In­terest thy Greatness in our mean Affairs. And use thy self betimes to hear our Prayers. Which is such a wretched Perversion of Virgil's Noble Thought as Vicars would have blush'd at; but Mr. Ogylby makes us some amends, by his better Lines.

O wheresoe'er thou art, from thence in­cline,
And grant Assistance to my bold Design!
Pity with me, poor Husbandmens affairs,
And now, as if Translated, hear our Prayers.

This is Sence, and to the purpose: the other, poor mistaken Stuff.

[Page 112] Ver. 67. And Streams yet new, from Precipices run. An Interpolation, but no Beauty.

Ver. 70. And Goad him till he groans beneath his toil. Ridiculous, and far from Virgil's meaning.

Ver. 83. A fourth with Grass unbidden decks the Ground. Virgil says nothing of such a fourth kind of Soil; but tells us another, which, with Mr. D. is the third kind Bears Fruit Trees well, and good Grass, without particular Cultivation; and indeed, Land which is good for Fruit-Trees, is good for Grass too, tho the spread­ing of the Trees sour the Grass in time.

Ver. 86. And soft Idume weeps her odorous Tears. Now, in the Name of Poetry, what does Mr. D. mean by that fine Verse? How come molles Sabaei to signifie soft Idume, and sua thura, her Odorous Tears? How much more Honestly, says Mr. Ogylby with his Author. India sends Ivory, Sabaea Gums.

Ver. 91. This is the Original Contract — Pray, be­tween what Parties?

Ver. 03, 04.When Ducalion hurl'd His Mother's En­trails on the Desart World — But, why Entrails? Themis's Oracle, was Ossaque post tergum mag­nae jactate Parentis. And Men were — Inde durum Genus — Stones being as Bones to the Earth; but the Entrails never carry'd any such Omen with them — The Entrails, or Bowels, are sometimes nam'd for compassion, and tenderness; and had the Oracle nam'd Entrails, instead of Bones, it would have puz­zel'd Deucalion, as much as his Wife. Had Mr. D. read King Arthur, K. Arth. l. 8. he might have met [Page 113] with a Story of one Pyrrhus, and his Wife, who, perhaps, might have tost his Mothers Entrails; but Deucalion and his Wife acted more sen­sibly.

Only scar The surface, Ver. 100. and but lightly print the share. What Stuff's this to Virgil's Manly Sence, or Mr. Ogylby's? To break a shallow Furrow will suffice?

Least wicked Weeds the Corn should over-run In watry Soils, Ver. 103. or lest the barren Sand Should suck the Moisture from the thirsty Land — Vir­gil talks nothing of any watry Soil; and Weeds will grow in the dry Soil as well as any; but a light Plowing in a proper Season, helps, in some measure, to kill the Weeds, as laying it Fallow rots the common Surface. But what Weed does he mean, which should suck the Moisture from the Land. Virgil's rule is, You should Plow but shallow, lest the water should run off too much from the Sandy Ground which needs it most therefore, in deep, moist Grounds Good-Husbands, lay their Ridges high to drain them, in light Sandy Ground they lay them low, to keep them as moist as possible; but what excellent Rules for Husbandry Mr. D. would give?

Both these unhappy Soils, Ver. 106. &c. These four Lines are so very absurd, and his mentioning a Sab­bath in a Romane Prophane Author, so imper­tinent, as a Wise Man would forswear Tran­slating, who understood Sence, and his Author no better,

[Page 114] Ver. 110.The Faults and Blunders are so thick here, that they must be seen by every Body; he breaks all the Sense of any Rules of Husbandry, as indeed, wholly ignorant of the Matter. But for his stalks of Lupines, (a stubborn Wood,) I wonder whether that Parenthesis be the English for Fragiles Calamos, or Sylvam sonantem? I hope, the next Edition will inform us rightly.

Ver. 115. And sleepy Poppies harmful Harvests yield. Poppies indeed, do no good in the Corn, but none make a Harvest of 'em but Apothecaries, or those who distil compound Waters; and they are gone every where, long before Har­vest: Virgil talks quite otherwise.

Ver. 118.Sordid ashes — Cinerem immundum, I take, to signifie Soot, a thing of excellent use in Bar­ren Grounds, and where they are over-run with Moss.

Ver. 121. And Earth Manur'd, not Idle, tho at Rest. For Nec nulla interea est inaratae gratia terrae, a Riddle for a plain Axiome.

Ver. 122.Mr. D's Account of Devonshiring Land, is somewhat darker than his Author; but his pretty Fancy of new Stringing the Veins: for — Astringit venas biantes, is so fine a Pun, as makes amends for the mistakes all-a-round.

Ver. 138. Who smooths with Harrows, or who pounds with Rakes The crumbling Clods — These are strange things, and what Virgil never meant. Crates, sometimes signifies an Harrow indeed, but Vimineae Crates, methinks, looks more like what I've seen made use of in a new Ground to smooth it, viz. A Heap of large [Page 115] Bushes, with a piece of heavy Wood on them, to keep them close, which has succeeded very well. To pound with Rakes, is certainly, a very odd Idaea of the use of that Instrument, a Pestle is fitter for that Work; indeed, I have seen a kind of Rake with short, broad, flat Iron-teeth, and a heavy Head, call'd a Clotting Rake, with which, they scatter their Mole-warps, Cow-dung, and that of Horses, and break them to pieces, but that's commonly in Mowing Grounds. Virgil in all probability, meant those Iron Forks, like what they empty Dung-Carts with; with which, in several Countries, they tear up the Strong Soil which was laid Follow, Turf by Turf, which they call, Break­ing of Fallow, and tends much to the mellow­ing of the toughest Grounds. And this is most us'd, where the Ridges are laid so high as makes cross Plowing, in some measure, impracticable.

For a moist Summer, Ver. 145. and a Winter dry — Here indeed, Mr. D. errs with the Multitude, who certainly mistake Virgil; for there are few wet Summers which are extraordinary de­sirable; and a cold, pinching Winter is general­ly best, for both Trees and Corn, provided, it be but Snowy too; and there's a Solstice in Winter as well as Summer; in which a great deal of Rain is expected by our Husbandmen, and much wish'd for, to fill the Dikes, which followed with Frosts, and large Snows, tends much to the security of the following Crop: Indeed a dusty March, if we'll count March a Winter Month, is very kindly, after which, if [Page 116] April be but wet, the Husbandman can di­spence with a dry time for most of the follow­ing Months, and few Lands are endamag'd by it.Hist. Nat. l. 17. c. 2. Pliny therefore rejects Virgil's Rule, tho in the same Country, if it be Interpreted, as Commonly it is. And, perhaps, none of Vir­gil's Commentators have been Husbandmen enough to give us his right meaning. For my part, I think, that mention'd before, the most Rational; and should be ready to Inter­pret Hibernus Pulvis — by March Dust, of which our Country Proverb says, A Peck is worth a Kings Ransom. But I leave the Mat­ter to the ultimate decision of better Iudgments. Yet must think Mr. D's Paraphrase in the next Couplet, very strange, That Winter Drought re­wards the Peasant's pain, And broods indulgent on the bury'd Grain.

Ver. 151.Mr. D. changes Virgil's way of Speaking for a much worse — Cover it with speed, i. e. Har­row it, which every body does. Before the surly Clod resists the Rake. Fields are not Rak'd, but Gardens, and breaking the pliant Furrows, is meer Cant, and signifies just nothing.

Ver. 159.On the Mountains brow, undams his Wa­try stores — But where was it ever heard of, that Farmers kept treasures of Water on the tops, or brows of Mountains? Springs sometimes rise at the Feet of Mountains, sometimes out of their sides: and Virgil means no more than, They gather it in Pools on the upper Grounds, from whence into the Plains are oftimes seen con­siderable Cliffs or Falls. Capt. Knox in his [Page 117] History of Ceylon, gives us a fine Idaea of this Husbandry, in his Account of the sowing and ma­naging of Rice, tho that needs more Water than any other Grain.

E'er yet the aspiring Off-spring of the Grain, Ver. 167. O'ertops the Ridges of the Furrow'd Plain. Are Verses very brillant, and meer sparkling Non­sence.

Too large a Beverage to the Drunken Field— Carries the Figure too high,Ver. 170. which in the Poet is agreeable, and modest. The following six Lines, are a Fustian Paraphrase of a Iudicious Representation.

Mr. D. Paraphrases Three excellent Lines of Virgil with no fewer than eight of his own, Ver. 183. wherein, he belyes old Father Iupiter, while he makes him the Inventor of the Plow-share, and of Handy-Crafts, and Arts; and gives us a very impertinent Idaea of the Silver Age.

Which only Turfs and Greens for Altars found. Ver. 192. This Line, I'm sure, Virgil gave no hint of, nor is it at all pertinent to the Matter in Hand, besides, by Mr. D's leave, cutting Turf is as much wounding the Earth as Plowing, if it make the Body as sore to flea it, as to gash it with a Knife or Sword.

And shook from Oaken Leaves the liquid Gold — For Honey, Ver. 200. but who'd imagine the Translator meant so, but that the Original guides him to it? Which must needs give great satisfaction to the meer English Reader; after all, what's Mr. D's Sence in this line? Virgil means, Iupiter took away that Honey [Page 118] with which, the leaves of every Tree, not the Oak only, flow'd in the Golden Age.

Ver▪ 202. And from the Rivers made the Wine retire — Ovid says jam Flumina Nectaris ibant — Of the Golden Age, Wine ran down in mighty Ri­vers. But Mr. D. speaks, as if Wine and Wa­ter had run down the same Stream, and now the Wine was rack'd off, and the Water left in a thin condition.

Ver▪ 205. And force the Veins of clashing Flints to Expire The lurking Seeds of that Celestial Fire. Now, I think, the way of striking Fire was not by Flints against Flints, but against Steel, which way was certainly, very certain and Ancient, theother but casual. Expire, is a very Catachre­stical word here too: But why Fire struck from Flints, should be call'd Celestial, I can't so much as guess.

Then first on Seas the hollow'd Alder swam. Here Mr. D. stumbles a second time at Alnus, Ver. 207. Virgil uses it for any Tree us'd in Shipping, but Mr. D. will scarce find a real Alder ever made use of for Sea-service.

Ver. 213. Drags in the Deep — Yes, and in the Shal­lows too, as well as Casting-Nets, but as for the other Nets Virgil mentions, they are for the Sea, and Baits were hung on Hooks, which is not Virgil's, but Mr. D's own discovery.

And sounding Axes. But why that Epi­thet to Axes. Ver. 215 Argutae serrae, might be English­ed sounding Saws, but I question whether Ferri rigor, signifies Axes at all — For wedges first did yielding Wood invade — A very silly Cata­chresis. [Page 119] This, and the following Verse, are wonderfully beautifi'd by the Dids, and the next is so Elegant a Version of Virgil's noble Sense, that a Man would think Mr. D. when he undertook Virgil, was very rich, and above need, or very Idle?

First, Ver. 219, 220. Ceres taught the Ground with Grain to sow, And arm'd with Iron Shares the crooked Plough. It may be so; but Virgil says, only, she taught Men to Plow.

And unblest Oats, Ver. 229. and Darnel domineers. Pray, what are Oats unblest? Is that the real meaning of Steriles avenae? Or is that Line good English, not to mention the immediate­ly precedent Rhymes?

And with an Iron War Of Rakes and Har­rows, Ver. 232. the proud Foes expell'd. Iron War, distant War, &c. Are Expressions our Translator's wonderfully fond of; and yet, as he uses 'em, they are generally meer Nonsence: And if poor Elkanah, or any of the Fifth Rate Scrib­blers had us'd the word Foes, unless in a Iewish Story, Mr. D. before his fumbling Age, would have been very severe upon 'em.

The Boughs that shade. Ver. 235. For, which is false Grammar; but what Mr. D for all his dormant Rules, is frequently guilty of.

And shake for Food the long abandon'd Oak. Ver. 238. A dull, toothless Translation of an Emphati­cal Sarcasm.

What Arms they wield, Ver. 239, 240. who labour Tillage, and the furrow'd Field—Would puzzle a Dutch Commentator to make Sence of.

[Page 120] Ver. 243.The towering hight of Waggons. What kind of Waggons are those so lofty? That which Madam Star, and her Comic Brigade rode in, was not so very lofty; nor have the Ancient Poets given that of Ceres any Gigantic Dimen­sions.

Ver. 245.And the Flail — I'm afraid, they were not us'd in Virgil's Days, nor perhaps Hurdles. I'll not be too positive, but I'm sure, the Pro­testant Flail's of a more Modern Invention, and those who introduc'd 'em first, were for Ex­cercising us with an Iron War.

Ver. 247, 8. These all must be prepar'd. When Mr. D. writ this Couplet, I suppose, Virgil was quite out of his Head.

Ver. 252, 3. On either side the Head produce an Ear, And sink a Socket for the shining share — A very pretty Rule, if Mr. D. would illustrate it with a short Note, and a particular Five Guinea Sculpture in the next Edition. The next Cou­plet are too short for the full Sence of Virgil's three Latin Verses.

Ver. 258. Delve of convenient depth your Threshing Floor. Virgil's Area, signifies the whole Barn-Floor: But, why Delve it deep? the Poet teaches how to Consolidate the Floor, so as other Ver­mine mayn't delve in it, but I can't find that he teaches the Husbandman any such Art.

Ver. 264. For sundry Foes the Rural Realm surround — i. e. The Barn-floor a true Royaume d' Yvitot; for Virgil is here, wholly contriving to se­cure that again Chinks and Weeds, and Mice or Rats, and Moles, and Toads; all which, [Page 121] I've seen troublesome in an ill wrought Floor; besides the Pest of Weevels, not Weesels and Pis­mires, and which, a due care will admirably prevent.

For gather'd Grain the blind labourous Mole In winding Mazes works her hidden Hole — Moles generally work streight forward, Ver. 267. and their common Roads are in a line; when they work irregularly, it's in pursuit of Worms and Vermine, on which they feed, and not on Grain. But a Molewarp as it's mischievous in the Field, it's more so in the Floor.

The Glebe will answer to the Sylvan Reign. Ver. 274. Virgil bids his Farmer observe the Almonds when in Blossom, if they set well, if they do, the Years Crop is like to be good; but Mr. Dry­den drops Virgil's Rule, and gives us a piece of Senseless Iargonry in the room of it.

But if a Wood — And Straw will be thy store. Ver. 276. These four lines are as ridiculous a Para­phrase of Virgil as could have been contriv'd; and the Hinds vexing the Threshing-Floor, is a very fine Figure.

And some their Seed in Caldrons boil. Ver. 280▪ Was certainly, only for a Rhyme to Oil; but is such a piece of Husbandry as never took place any where, but in the Translator's brain; to soak the Seed in warm Liquor may be admitted of, but boiling would soon destroy the Radical Virtue of the fairest Seed; but above all, this boiling, is a very odd way to drain the Exube­rant Iuice. Why the Hulls which appear larger than the lank Kernel within requires, [Page 122] should be call'd flattering husks, may be a rea­sonable Quaere.

Ver. 297, 8. But when Astrea's balance hung on high, Be­twixt the Nights and Days divides the Sky. i. e. All the Year round; for Night and Day divides it always, but not equally; Virgil referr'd to the Aequinox, but Mr. D. gives no intima­tion of any such thing; and indeed, without looking into the Original, sometimes as a Comment, the Translator's text would be whol­ly unintelligible.

Ver. 301. Till cold December comes with driving Rain— Driving Rain's no great Impediment; but it's Frost and Snow which gives Mid-winter Vir­gil's Epithet of intractable.

Ver. 367.In full career, The Bull beats down the Barriers of the Year. Now would I fain know what Court Lady, who could not read the Original, or what Plow-man could find out Mr. D's meaning here? What are the Barriers of the Year? Pindar never us'd so bold or sence­less a Figure. The Sun's Horses, indeed, bat­ter'd the Barriers of the Morning with their heels; but they are suppos'd in a Stable ac­commodated with Barriers to check the pas­sage of the unruly Brutes, as Ovid tells us; but Virgil talks nothing to that purpose. A­gain, what does he mean by Argos, in the next Line? Argos was a famous Town in Greece; but the Ship fixt in Heaven, is call'd Argô, not Argos, as Mr. D's Dictionary may teach him, or his Friend Ruaeus's Notes.

[Page 123] Let Maja with her Sisters first descend. Ver. 310 This is to explain Ignotum per Ignotius; and I make no doubt, but Court Ladies, and honest Boors would as soon find out what Virgil means by his Eoae Atlantides, as what Mr. D. understands by Maja and her Sisters. Other Poets have made use of the former name for the Pleiades, but his Periphrasis is wholly New. Such another admirable elucidation, that is, upon Ariadne's Crown, is the following Verse. And here I cannot but observe by the way, That it's the great Fault of Mr. Sandys in his Translation of Ovid's Metamorphosis, that his work needs a Comment as much as Ovid himself ever did, perhaps more. The design of a Translation, is to make the Author as intelligible to those who understand only that Language into which the Translation's made, as the Original was to those who us'd it as their Mother-Tongue. Now if Arcadian, or Sicilian, or Mantuan Shepherds, were Men of such excel­lent Accomplishments, as Mr. D, represents 'em; no doubt but they understood Theocritus's Greek, and Virgil's Latin in his Bucolics and Georgics, perfectly well; and Virgil took his technical words rather from them, than they from him. And it's as little to be doubted, but that all things mention'd in the Aeneids were perfectly understood at Court; and the Ladies only needed one to rehearse that Poem, to them with a just Accent, and a regular Ca­dence, and they'd comprehend the whole with all the delight and satisfaction imaginable. But [Page 124] Mr. D. writes for the use of our English Yeo­manry, as well as our Court Ladies, to whom all his Pastoral and Husbandry will sound like Heathen Greek; and those, who, by the ad­vantages of better Education, are capable of reading Virgil's Original, must comprehend his Translator worst of all. And tho I have so good an Opinion of the Ladies of our English Court, as to think their Understandings much finer than Mr. D. would wish them; yet I'm certain, they can never learn much by Mr. D's obscure Version, and incomprehensible Non­sence; I'm afraid, he presum'd a little too much upon the weakness of some, while he comple­mented the sharpness of others Intellectuals; and plac'd his greatest security in a confidence, that well sounding Rhymes might put off disguis'd and miserably abus'd Matter; and that few would either trouble themselves to examine his Translation rigorously, or compare it, at lei­sure, with the Original. To me it's the most disagreeable diversion I ever undertook; for, I hate to be bilk'd where I have laid out for a good Crib; or to get a Translation to clear my understanding, which leaves me more at a loss than I was before.

Ver. 313.A listless lazy Crop — What manner of Crop's that? So Lentil's lean afterwards, un­less he design'd it for a pun; and vile Vetches; vile in English, is never taken in the same Sence as Vilis in Latin; and Mr. D. knows that, tho his Virgil can't pretend to be so, some things may be very good, and very cheap too.

[Page 125] The growth of Egypt,Ver. 317. or the Kidney Bean. That or spoils all, for if we may believe our Bo­tanists, the Kidney Bean is what Virgil meant by his Lens Peleusiaca. See Rays Herb. p. 884. &c. The slow Waggoner too, would almost puzzle an Almanack Maker.

Five Girdles bind the Skyes — What an odd Idaea of the upper Region would common Farmers take from this fine Figure?Ver. 322. And how do these Girdles bind the Skies? Would ever any Man, who pretended to take off the Cosmical and Heliacal rising or setting of the Stars, talk of five Heaven-binding Girdles?

And cross their limits cut a sloping way. Ver. 328. i. e. Cross the limits of the two temperate Zones. But what strange Astronomy is this? What Sphear ever represented the Zodiac as crossing the limits of the temperate Zone? It cuts or crosses the Aequa­tor twice, indeed, but only touches the Tropics. Or whoever call'd the Zodiac, a sloping way? But Poëtis quid libet audendi — shall be Mr. D's Motto, tho it should reach to picking of Pockets.

Two Poles turn round the Globe — For,Ver. 330. The Globe truns round two Poles. A very pretty Fi­gure in English. And I question whether the Snake or Dragon glides round the Pole, tho Mr. D. makes Virgil say so, nolens volens.

The Bears are not by the Poets,Ver. 335. said to ab­hor the Sea, but to be forbidden it, at Iuno's request; and Virgil makes 'em still afraid of her jealousie, and consequently of setting in it.

[Page 126] Ver. 324. And when on us she breaths the living Light. Can never be scrued out of Virgil's aut ubi primus equis Oriens afflavit anhelis —The Tapers of the Night — A Phrase borrow'd out of the English Parnassus.

Ver. 346. Or when to fell the Furzes — We sometimes talk of felling Timber, but never of Furzes be­fore; they are obliged to Mr. D. for the Ho­nour he has done 'em. And spread the flying Canvas for the Fleet. What is there in that of Virgil, or of tolerable sence, or expression? And what Stars arise, how extreamly fine! Had poor Elkanah talk'd so, he'd have heard of it on both sides his Head; but dat veniam cor­vis

Ver. 352. Let him forecast his work — Maturare, is not to forecast, but to act deliberatly, and do that throughly, which, when fair weather calls the Husbandman abroad, must have been huddled up in hast, and in a worse fashion; and this Mr. D. could not but see, by the work mention'd in the next lines; the shining share, he is very fond of.

Ver. 360.Or aire the Corn, Or grinded Grain be­tween two Marbles turn. Besides that very modish word grinded, where does Virgil talk of airing the Corn? Ruaeus would have taught him better sence, and his own little, might have taught him that cold wet weather was not fit for that work. And where did Mr. D. ever read of Marble Mill-stones, for, those I suppose he means? And if the Grain be grinded, what need it be turn'd between the Mar­bles? [Page 127] Could Mr. D. read Virgil, and Tran­slate it thus?

The Meads to water. Ver. 364. For Rivos deducere. Translated the clean contrary way.

And steep In wholsome Water-falls the wool­ly Sheep— But why in Water-falls?Ver. 365. Are those proper washing places? Does any Body ever wash Sheep just below London-bridge? And pray, how long must a woolly Sheep lie a-steep in the Water-fall before he's drown'd? For I never heard of any living thing steep'd for a cure.

Pale Pluto — An Epithet no way be­longing to him, Ver. 373. who is every where repre­sented as black; indeed, Commentators very ri­diculously make Orcus, here to signifie Plato. And so a day unlucky, as 'twas the Birth-day of a God, and one of the first rank too, which is absurd; but Orcus, means the Hell of the Poets, such as Virgil describes in his 6th Aeneid: and even Christians themselves, (could they assign it,) might esteem that day accurs'd, which first kindled the flames of eternal Hell.

And arm'd against the Skies the Sons of Earth. Ver, 374. Virgil says no such thing; he says only the Giants were born on that day; not that they made their attempt on Heaven as soon as they were born; or watcht for their Birth-days re­turn, as a lucky time to begin a Rebellion in.

To scale the steepy battlements of Jove.Ver. 376. Is a very odd way of speaking; the battlements of Heaven some have, by too bold a figure, talkt of, but none of Iove before our Poetical En­celadus.

[Page 128] Ver. 381. Then Weavers stretch your stays upon the weft. If it were not meer Iargonry, would be Nuts to the Spittle-field-Weavers, and they'd buy Mr. D's Virgil rather than Gadbury or Patridge, if his Rule would hold good.

Ver. 385. Virgil advises like one who understands busi­ness, to mow stubble or Haulm in the Night, or before Sun-rise, not because of coolness or rain, which would make mowing very uncomforta­ble; but because of the dew which following the Scyth, makes it work the better, Mr. D. has quit lost the Rule.

Ver. 390. To work by Night, and rake the Winter fire. i. e. they rake up the fire in a Winter Night, and then set up to work til Cock-crowing; a very pretty way to keep themselves warm, but none of the best Husbandry or Housewifry; for those must go to bed sooner who work all day hard, and must rise early. But what a pleasant employment Mr. D. has found for the good Man, to sharpen Torches? If any such Trees, as they say are found under ground in Lancashire, and other places, were common in Italy, the sharpning of Torches might mean something; but Virgil means no more than making of Matches, things of more use, and which good Husbands and Housewives gene­rally do at idle times.

Ver. 397. Virgil's direction is lost again, who tells us, that the heat of the day is best to Reap in, and to tread the Corn out in, or to pass the Wheel over it, because it then is dry, and leaves the husk best; for which, Mr. D. only tells us of the [Page 129] Day light, as if that were enough, whether it were hot or cold, or wet or dry.

For lazie winter numbs the labouring Hand. Ver. 402, Is a very odd reason why the Swain should Plough and Sow naked; but Virgil teaches him, not to be afraid of stripping to work in Sum­mer, that his work may be the sooner over; for winter or cold weather's no proper time for such work.

The four lines are good, Ver. 403, &c. but not Virgil's, nor much better, as I take it.

For Mast of Oak your Fathers homely Food. Ver. 410. True, but why that here? They are advis'd to beat down Mast for their Swine, not for their own eating.

And so hunt the Hare. Ver. 414. What, when the fleecy Snow new cloaths the wood. (Which by the way, is as meer Fustian as any thing in Silvester's Dubartas.) Huntsmen will tell him, there's no hunting when the Snow lies upon the Ground; but it's tracing Hares which our Poet means, which Farmers are more us'd to, than hunting; as they are more us'd to Slings than Bows, which is Mr. D's own silly Inven­tion.

Now sing we stormy Stars, Ver. 419. when Autumn weighs the Year — Who could imagine that Mr. D. had consider'd his Author? Or where can Virgil afford so fine a Thought as that last? In the whole Account of the storms in Spring and Harvest, Ogylby out-does Mr. D. in repre­senting Virgil's Thoughts, as far as Mr. D. would pretend to out-do honest Vicars.

[Page 130] Ver. 427.The Farmer now secure of fear, Sends in the Swains to spoil the finish'd Year. What fear does Mr. D. mean which the Farmer should be secure of, (Not to take notice of the sence­less Latinism) he'd do well to tell us in the next Edition; but for sence sake, who ever, before our Rhymer, call'd Reaping spoiling of the finish'd Year; the two next lines are his own, and tend much to the eclaircissement of the Matter.

Ver. 434. &c. And whirl'd aloft the lighter stubble born, With such a force, the flying wrack is driven, And such a Winter wears the face of Heaven. Have neither Virgil's, nor any thing of common sence in 'em; and the order of the words is ridicu­lous.

Ver. 437.Whole sheets of slucey Rain —Is a Meta­phor well carry'd on, and finely worded.

Ver. 444, &c. The Father of the Gods his Glory shrouds, In­volv'd in Tempests, and a Night of Clouds. This said of Phoebus, had been tolerable, tho far from his Author, but of Iove it's pure Non­sence. By fits he deals his firy Bolts about. By what fits? Has Iove his freaks? Or is he troubl'd with Cramps or Convulsions? He must be more than half an Atheist, who talks so childishly of him, whom he calls the Father of the Gods. The 443 long line is of the same Batch.

Ver. 448. Earth-falls, &c. Here doubtless, Mr. D. was in a Rapture; and, whereas poor Virgil was flat and lifeless, he's resolv'd to show us how he would or should have written, if [Page 131] he had liv'd now, and fallen under Mr. D's discipline. — And flying Beasts in Forests seek abode. Is a line of most charming sence, and sweetness.

When chearful hours awake the Spring, Ver. 463, 4. and Spring awake the Flowers. A delicate Ovidian Interpolation, and becomes Virgil as a patcht Coat would a Prince.

On the green Turf thy careless Limbs display. Ver. 465. A very mannerly way of Devotion, which Virgil was a stranger to.

The Silken Ground, Ver. 468. Is very pretty Ground indeed, and could Mr. D. but show us where it is, it might, for ought I know, ruin the East-India Company more than all the Petitions of the Weavers. But Mr. D. has heard of Carpet Ground, and scorn'd that common word, Silk was for him. With milder Beams the Sun securely shines. It seems then, his Empire was in danger when his Beams were too sultry; the world might have abdicated him for his fierce­ness, but now he was mild, he might shine se­curely; he has been very safe in that respect, for 4 or 5 Years last past. — And luscious are the Wines. Is not the meaning of mollissima vina.

Thus in the Spring — I would not brow beat Devotion in a Quire of Clowns, Ver. 477. as Mr. D. very gentilely stiles 'em; but Virgil here, talks only of Devotion at the time of Har­vest, before Men begin to Reap, which very few do in the Spring.

[Page 132] Ver. 480.His hollow Temples. Old Horses and Oxen are very hollow about the Temples, but Men don't ordinarily sink there so very much; I hope, Mr. D. won't alledge the cava Tem­pora — ascrib'd to Turnus, in the 9th Aeneid, if he does, I'm ruin'd for a Critic, and there's no more to be said.

Ver. 490. The working Seas advance to wash the Shore. So they do every rising Tide, and what shall the Plow-Man learn from Mr. D's Diagnosticks?

Ver. 492. And mountains whistle to the murmuring floods. Is a Silken line, and doubtless, tickl'd the Author's fancy extremely; but it's very wide of — Aridus altis montibus audiri fragor; or if fragor be whistling, it's like that of some of the Natives of Tenarif, who'll whistle so loud, as to be heard 5 or 6 Miles; beside, Virgil does not talk of murmuring, but roaring Floods, and murmuring Woods; and that's somewhat more natural than this of the Translator.

Ver. 496. And stretching to the Covert. Virgil only says they make to shore.

Ver. 499. And mounting upward with erected flight, Gains on the Skies, and soars above the sight. What manner of flight is that which is call'd an erected flight? I don't remember it in all Latham, or the Gentleman's Recreation; this description is meer Fustian, and a wretched Thought fobb'd upon the World for Virgil, when he'd have scorn'd it.

Ver. 508, 9, 10, &c.Are all a loose Paraphrase, liker Ovid again than Virgil. The East and West meeting on their Frontiers, and crashing the Clouds. All pretty [Page 133] stuff, but light and unfixt, as the floating Fea­thers.

And sails above the Storm. Ver. 516. Which is scarce true in fact, and if it were, is not said by Virgil.

Qu. Whether Croaking be the Characteri­stic of a loquacious crew?Ver. 521.

Huge flocks of rising Rooks forsake their Food, Ver. 525. And crying, seek the shelter of the Wood. This is no more than they do every Night, there­fore Virgil means something else.

And stem the Stream to meet the promis'd Rain. Ver. 532. As if they would not meet the Rain as well Swimming down as up Stream; or as if Virgil had, like his Translator, talk'd idly.

And in the sockets Oily Bubbles dance. Ver. 538. Virgil means the wick gets a cap, as those who look after your Sea lights call it, which some­times covers the whole, sometimes multiplies out of the sides, in a figure somewhat like Mushrooms.

Here we have several Nonsence lines toge­ther — The Moon adorns As with unborrow'd Be [...]s, Ver. 541. her sharpen'd Horns. Now, how that is, who can tell us? The filmy Gossamer now flits no more; i. e. the things like Cobwebs don't fly about in the Air; but their flying a­bout is a sign of dry weather, and such Signs, Virgil is here speaking of; so that if Virgil had meant his words of those flying Meteors his Translator had contradicted him; which he adventures to do more than once — Nor Halcyons bask on the short Sunny shore. Why [Page 134] the short Sunny shore? I can't divine, unless it be for the sweet sounding ss; the Original talks not of it's being short. Virgil mentions Scylla and Nisus, Ver. 549, &c. a Story well known to the Romans; but what English Swain would know that he meant the Lark and Hobby; if at least that be the meaning of it; but the Translator wants a Servius too; if any can make sence of the closing line — And thus the Purple Hair is dearly paid, I shall be their very Humble Servant.

Ver. 557. Then thrice the Ravens rend the liquid Air Is a wild Construing of Ingeminant liquidas vo­ces — Their callow Case too, is a choice Flower.

Ver. 564.As Man who Destiny controuls — What has that to do here, where the Poet speaks of Ravens understanding the Determinations of Fate better than other Creatures? Besides, Mr. D. knows, Iove himself can't controul De­stiny, much less can Men.

Ver. 569. Compos'd by Calms, and Discompos'd by Winds. But that's not to the purpose, how they are affected by the weather now in being, but how they are affected before, with a change of weather near at Hand. They feel a Storm, or fair weather coming, tho at a distance, which the Poet here debates on.

Ver. 570. From hence the Cows exult, and frisking Lambs rejoice. The Ravens are quite forgot then, and the Cows put in, pro Arbitrio, to mend Virgil.

Ver. 572. And the short Year of the revolving Moon. This is to let us know that Mr. D. has heard [Page 13] of Lunary Years, else Virgil gave him no temp­tation to mention 'em.

Here Mr. D. drops his Author, Ver. 586. because he was full of hard Names. So again after Ver. 588. I hope, he won't plead Horace's Rule, Et quae desperes tractata nitescere posse relinquas.

Or if thro Mists he shoots his sullen Beams, Ver. 591, 2. Frugal of Light in loose and stragling Streams. This is to come up to Virgil's Majesty, which Mr. D. thinks he has done in this Book, or no where; but whether it be a just Interpreta­tion of — Medioque refugerit orbe, let the learn­ed World judge. If he flies to those, Aut ubi sub lucem densa inter nubila sese Diversi erum­pent radii — He perverts Virgil's Rule, who, ended his Sentence at the former line; and here begun a new Observation on the Prognostics from the Sun, of Hail.

When ridgy Roofs and Tiles can scarce avail, Ver. 599. To bar the ruin of the ratling Hail. What ruin's are here meant? Or what greater mischief would a violent Hail do if the Roof were laid open, than when it's Til'd, or has a Ridgy Roof? But what's all this to his Author, who is not concern'd for the Tiles, but for the Grapes, which suffer by such violent Storms?

What Madman then would venture o'er the Frith?Ver. 613. — Was Virgil then acquainted with Scotland? Or had he heard of Edenburg Frith, or Solway Frith? If Mr. D. would have brought the whole Poem down to our present Age, and Modified his Author, as the Ingenious Sir R. L' Estrange has done by his Don Queve­do, [Page 136] this had been well enough; but to have it only here and there, is Aping Philips's senceless Don Quixot.

Ver. 621.Quaere, Whether Vesper serus, signifie both the late Even, for Evening, and the early Morn? Or whether Operta Bella be open Wars?

Ver. 629. And piti'd Rome, when Rome in Caesar fell. Virgil says nothing like that, and Mr. D. once Condemn'd, as well he might, his own Verse concerning Lausus, and utter'd by his Father Mezentius, When Lausus dy'd I was already slain, As trifling, and beneath the Gravity and Majesty of Virgil; but he begins now, repuerascere, and must be pardon'd for fooling.

Ver. 630. In Iron Clouds — What Clouds are they? Mr. Cowley never us'd so forc'd a Figure in his most daring Pindariques; and obscura Ferru­go never was Constru'd an Iron Cloud before.

Ver. 632. Nor was the Fact foretold by him alone, Na­ture her self stood forth and seconded the Sun. This is one of Mr. D's Native Flights; for which, he owes nothing to Virgil. But how comes the Sun to be no part of Nature or not within the Verge? Or else what does he mean by Nature? but perhaps, we shall know more of his mind in the next Edition.

Ver. 638. In German Skies afar. Is not English.

Ver. 641. And from their Summits shook the eternal Snow. Is another of Mr. D's fine Thoughts, tack'd to Virgil, like the Badge of a Parish Pensioner on his sleeve, not to honour, but expose him.

Ver. 644. In silent Groves dumb Sheep and Oxen spoke. i. e. They were dumb before they spoke, but not [Page 137] when or after they did so; but where did Mr. D. read that they spoke in Groves? Strange voices, indeed, of more than mortal Men were heard in the Groves; but the Translator's Eyes fail'd him.

And Holy Sweat from Brazen Idols fell. Ver. 648. This is Burlesquing his Author; for if the Statue, or figure be an Idol, the sweat can hardly be holy; indeed his Milk white Hind has told us fine Stories of Idols which have been in such holy sweats; if he alludes to them, we are sa­tisfied.

The King of Floods — Without his proper Name, Ver. 649. may be an Utopian River for ought any body knows, or may be ascrib'd ad libi­tum; but Virgil meant a particular River, and nam'd it, for a Prodigy without a place where it was, is a sham.

Red Meteors run along the aethereal space, Ver. 657. Stars disappear'd, and Comets took their place. Wellfare an honest Roman Miracle Monger! Mr. D. thought Virgil had not Prodigies enough, so he adds to the Tale, and adds one, which is a swinger — That the Stars disappear'd, and Co­mets took their places; if such a sight would not fright the World, nothing would.

Amaz'd at antique Titles on the Stones. Ver. 666. As if there had been Tombs or Monuments, Stone-Henges set up in the Pharsalian and Philippic Fields, which is a very fine fancy. But why should an antique Title amaze any body? Curious Men will go far to see 'em, and gene­rally return from 'em sober enough, and not [Page 138] half so much as Men of sence would be, to see a flattering Inscription, equal Mr. D. to Denham, Waller, or Cowley.

Ver. 683. The Plain no Pasture to the Flock affords — This ridiculous line was put to make up the Rhyme for the next; for there was Pasturage enough, if anythink was wanting, it was Flocks and Herds to graze on 'em. Virgil thought fit to omit this grave observation.

Ver. 685.Euphrates her soft Off-spring Arms. The Parthians were not the Off-spring of Euphrates, nor ever charg'd with Effoeminacy before; the Romans found 'em a Company of rough hardy Fellows, and not to be Conquer'd by their whole Power. But the Rhyne rebellowing is so fine an Expression, as ought not to be slipt, Mr. D, uses the word rebellowing several times, and it's a very full-mouth'd, nonsensical word, and will never be own'd by any who pre­tend to good English, but to apply his new fangled word to the Rhyne's, not a bold figure, but a Bull.

Ver. 690.If Servius be in the right, Mr. D. is out in making a Similitude of Virgil's Three last lines. But Mr. D. has said enough to baffle his own Version in his Note on the first Georgic, where­in he pretends to the honour of a new discovery, tho unjustly, of a great Complement to Augu­stus in those lines; the Observation's good, tho not his, but he has entirely spoil'd it, and made that which was well in his Note, imper­tinent in his Translation.

GEORGIC II.

MR. D. in his second line Translates Bacche in the Poet,Ver. 2, 4. by Generous Vines, which is well done, the sence being made true and intelligible by that means, but, as if he had repented of a wise thing once done, The Tar­de crescens Oliva, is render'd Minerva's Tree; the Original every Body understands, the Version very few of those for whom Virgil wrote, as well as for the Ladies at Court.

And drink at every Pore — Is an admi­rable flight; Ver. 12. Bacchus then must have been laid asleep in the Must, as the Sheep before in the Water-falls, or the Pores would scarce inbibe the Liquors; at least, where Virgil would have been content the jolly God should have been but over Shooes, Mr. D. was resolv'd to dowse him over Head and Ears.

Principio arboribus varia est natura creandis. Was a dull line, and not worthy to be taken notice of by Mr. D's exalted Genius.

Herculean Poplar — That Epithet was ju­diciously added,Ver. 18. that every one might know what Virgil meant by Populus. I suppose, Po­pulus Alcidae gratissima was in his Thoughts, and his Translation answers it very nicely.

Thus Elms, V. 24, 5, 6. and thus the savage Cherry grows — Is false Grammar: But why savage Cherries? As if only the wild grew so, (the savage is an uncouth Epithet for a Tree.) Yet we have often seen the tame Cherry shoot in the same [Page 140] manner. Mr. D. as if he were in a Paroxism of false English, adds, Thus the green Bays that binds the Poets brows, Shoots and is shelter'd by the Mother's Boughs. Where, either it should be Bay, and not Bays, unless Mr. D. be in love with the Title, or it should be — Which bind the Poets brows, shoot and are shelter'd.

Ver. 28.And all the Sylvan Reign. This Phrase is one of the Elegantiae Drydenianae, frequent­ly affected, and downright Nonsence.

Ver. 34. And the dry Poles produce a living Race. If this be not wondrous to behold, (which was well infarc'd by Mr. D.) pray, tell us what is? I can't think that Virgil had any thoughts of Aaron's Rod, the only instance of the Kind. Green Poles may do something, but dry Poles are no more prolifick than dry Brains.

Ver. 35. Some bow their Vines which bury'd in the Plain, Their tops in distant Arches rise again. This is a fine account of laying Vines; but Vir­gil never mentions them in particular, because several Trees may be encreas'd so as the Mul­bery, Goosberry, Currant, &c.

Ver. 37.The Labourer cuts young slips — The Gardener at Denham Court would have taught him otherwise, and that slips and cuttings are very different things; slips being so call'd, from being slipt from a larger Stem, and which are generally apter, if rightly order'd, to take Root than Cuttings are.

Ver. 39, 40. Even stumps of Olives bar'd of Leaves and dead, Revive, and oft redeem their wither'd Head — Here Mr. D. has me at a terrible ad­vantage, [Page 141] for here grows the Mirabile dictu, which he has inarch'd on another Stock; and here Virgil talks of lignum siccum, or a dry stick shooting again; yet, on better Thoughts, the danger is not extream, and I may live another Year. Virgil's account is this, That pieces of Olive Suckers, or Young Shoots cut at uncertain lengths, as a Foot, more or less, tho grown a little dry, and sapless on the out­side; yet open'd a little to the pith, (that be­ing still sound and green) if bury'd flatwise, or Horizontally in a moist warm Ground will shoot; but how it may redeem the wither'd Head, is another Quaere.

With Insolence invade a foreign Tree. Ver. 42. Is very dexterously express'd, and gives a great Idaea of Graffing; but — with Insolence, is in Latin, Impune, by which Translation, Mr. D. gives us an excellent Moral, i. e. That impunity in fooling, makes the Coxcomb insolent.

Thus were the Hind and Panther Calv'd of old,
S [...]m Coin put off for true Imperial Gold,
And Squab the Leaud appear'd with en­vy'd Pulpits bold.

The ruddy Cornel bears the Plum. Ver. 44. — For Lapidosa rubescere Corna, is exact as possible; for it's plain, the Cornel bears a ruddy Fruit before the Plum's graffed on it.

The learned Gardener. Ver. 45. This is by way of Complement to his Agricolae, whom he had call'd by all the ugly Names he could think of before.

[Page 142] Ver. 50. But Cultivate the Genius of the Ground — Here are several Couplets very wildly Transla­ted, and without any regard to the Genius of the Poet; but this is a choice Flower, and with a good Comment, perhaps, the learned Gardiner might make somewhat of it.

Ver. 53. The virtues of the several Soils I sing — That's not Virgil's Subject there, it had been the Sub­ject of the former Book, and he was now upon the nature of Trees; but this is Mr. D's own impertinence, which he's generally sick of, both in his additions and deductions; so afterwards, Inspire thy Poet, and thy Poem crown, a ridiculous Interpolation; but his Head's al­ways running upon the Bays.

Ver. 58.And breezes from the Shore. Breezes are from the Sea, and of little use for Sailing; only the Prince of Oranges sailing Chariot, might make some use of 'em.

Ver. 65. Nor will I tire thy Patience with a train of Preface — Virgil then, show'd a greater re­spect to his Maecenas, than Mr. D to his Pa­tron, my Lord Marquess of Normanby, whom, he has assaulted with such a fardel of imperti­nencies, as nothing, but Dotage could excuse.

Ver. 70, 72.Makes a Manly Birth — Change their salvage mind — Here, weak Eyes see Trees wal­king as Men; else, what absurd Catachreses are these, to talk of a Manly Birth of Trees, and of their salvage minds? for, their mind is false English; And Mr. D. knows, One may change his Mind, tho he does not change his Na­ture; [Page 143] Animus Sylvestris, signifies, only their wild Nature, which is an easie figure.

Trees sprung from barren Roots, Ver. 75. In open Fields transplanted, bear their Fruits. Pray, what Fruits are those which a barren Tree bears? Virgil's Sence is handsomly given us by Mr. Ogylby

So those which spring from Roots like profit yield,
If you transplant them to the open Field.

For Virgil teaches his Farmers, that as wild Fruit Trees, for those he speaks of, are corrected by Graffing, so Suckers from the Roots of other Trees which are barren, while growing there, come to bear, when transplanted into the open Air.

But now the branching Parents leafy shade
Makes them not bear, or what they bear to fade.

All which, Mr. D. wonderfully Illustrates, by those profound lines; for where they grow, the Native Energy (is not that some occult quality?) turns all into the substance of the Tree, starves and destroys the Fruit, is only made for brawny bulk ▪ a swinging figure that, and for a barren shade.

A sullen Tree — A most Emphatic Epi­thet, Ver. 81. if a Man knew why it was given.

The generous flavour lost, the Fruits decay, Ver. 83, 4. And salvage Grapes are made the Birds ignoble Prey — But Mr. D. knows, all Fruits have not a generous flavour; and Virgil names only Ap­ples and Grapes; which, therefore Mr. Ogyl­by thus gives us more Correctly —

[Page 144]
Apples in time grow wild, and lose their tast,
And Vines harsh clusters bear for Birds to wast.

For let Mr. D. say what he pleases, salvage Grapes, is a very silly Expression.

Ver. 86.And in ranks reclaim — For cogere in suleum, or to set in good Ground, and, then Mr. D. adds a Rule of his own, Well must the Ground be dug and better drest, New soil to make and meliorate the rest. How much more Manly is Mr. Ogylby?

All labour ask, and covering in rich soil,
And must be conquer'd with much art and toil.

Ver. 89. Old Stakes of Olive Trees in Plants revive. Is Nonsence; but of this before. By the same me­thod Paphian Myrtles live— Is a mistake, and contrary to Virgil; and here our two Tran­slators Ogylby, and Dryden, are at vye who should Translatet heir Author the more absurd­ly — And Paphian Myrtle springs from solid Oak— Solido Paphiae de robore Myrtus, Which is literal Nonsence; but Virgil's sence is, that the Myrtles encrease, by large pieces stuck into a good Ground, as we propagate Willows in moist Ground.

Ver. 91. And noble Vines by propagation live. So do all other Trees, for if they were not propaga­ted, they'd soon be destroy'd; but it seems, Mr. D. could not distinguish between Propa­gatio, and Propago — ginis — which signifies a layer of a Vine, by which, it's generally Propa­gated.

Ver. 92, 3. From Roots hard Hazles — No doubt of it, and all other Trees, for they seldom grow, [Page 145] but from their Roots; but Virgil's meaning is, Hazles are propagated from Seedlings, or young Plants, rais'd from the Nut, The Ash, from young Plants from the Kays, and the shady Poplar, of which Hercules made his Ghirland, and the Oak of Iupiter Dodonaeus, and the lofty Palm, and the Pine or Firr, design'd to try it's For­tunes on the Sea; all these are encreas'd by such seedlings, and not from Cions, (which are for Graffing,) as Mr. D. ignorantly talks.

The thin leav'd Arbute Hazle. Ver. 96. Here, Mr. D's misled by Ruaeus, who misunderstanding the Arbutus, made horrida signifie thin-leav'd; but Virgil's sence is, The true Nut is graffed on the prickly Thorn; And this I remember, I've met with, in some Books of Gardening, tho deny'd to be successful in our Soil. And here I can't but observe how Mr. D. abounds with his Thats, Dids and Does, &c. the former, ge­nerally false Grammar, the latter, in him, a polite Writer, one, who has regulated his Mother Tongue beyond the Denham's, and Waller's, and Cowley's, meer botching.

To bud, to graff, and to inoculate. Mr. D. will be adding to his Author only to betray his own ignorance. Ver. 103. Virgil mentions Graffing and Inoculating only, and Budding and Inocu­lating are the same thing; Inarching is an In­vention of a later date.

Where tender Rinds disclose their shooting Gems, Ver. 105. a swelling knot there grows—This again is quite beside his Author: what Mr. D. calls Gems, is not quite so intelligible in English as in the Lat­tin; [Page 146] but those Gems are the swelling knots, under which knots Virgil, contrary to Modern Practice, would have the incision made, which is com­monly double, one downwards, the other cross, for the better raising the bark, to admit the shield of the Bud to be inserted. Ruaeus talks of an Inocu­lation, which is but another kind of Graffing, between the Bark and the Trunk, which is now pretty common; and his Emplastratio resembles our Budding, as I have seen a piece of the Bark taken quite off from the Stock some­times square, sometimes triangular, to which the Sh [...]eld of the Bud being exactly sitted, it has taken very well.

Ver. 109. In whose moist Womb the admitted Infant grows. Is a luscicus Ovidianism, beneath the Majesty of our Author.

Ver. 111. We make a deep Incision in the Tree. For Fin­ditur in solidum cuneis via — Is very well Con­strued, aud very Edifying to the learned Gar­diner, to show his Iudgment, in whose Art, he talks in the next Lines of Slips for Cions.

Ver. 113. The batning Bastard shoots again, and grows— The batning Bastard, is a dirty Expression, dis­agreeable to Virgil's modesty, to the Gardiner's Language, and Common Sence; the next Cou­plet, are pitiful creeping lines, which a good Poet had been asham'd of.

V. 118, &c. We have as egregious a Specimen of the Tran­slator's ignorance, as we could wish for; Vir­gil tells us, That Elms, and Willows, and Lo­tus's and Cretan Cypresses, are every one, kinds of Trees, which contain several sorts under [Page 147] them, agreeing in the same name, or that there are several kinds of Elms, several of Wil­lows, &c. but where has Mr. D. any thing which can bear this Sence, or indeed, any? And what a whim is his Funeral Cypress, rising like a Shroud? A foolery, which he repeats here, as if he were fond of it.

Fat Olive Trees, Ver. 122. &c. This proves what was Virgil's sence before; for Olive Trees, tho all of the same name, bear different kinds of Ber­ries, some of that kind call'd Orchades, or Berries indented, or as we see a Peach is on one side, some that call'd Radij, or long, lank O­lives, both which, seem to be properest for the Table; some bear those call'd Pausia, or such which are fitter to press for their Oil. Mr. D. has left his English Reader to interpret, and find out the kinds of this Fruit, for him­self, if he can; and he must be a learned Gar­diner indeed, who can learn any thing from his Version.

Unlike are Bergamots, Ver. 12 [...]. and Pounder Pears. No doubt of it; but what's that to Virgil's Crustumiis, Syriisque pyris, gravibusque volemis. Ruaeus, it's true, taught this, but Ruaeus blun­ders; the Bergamot is so call'd, from Berga­mo, a Town on this side the Po, Crustumi [...]m, is a Town near the Tyber, whose Pears Virgil names; the Syrian Pears are no Bergamots, by the same Rules, and the Volemi are a kind of Pear somewhat answering the figure of a Gourd, and, as some affirm, is more like to be the Bon Chretien, or the Gourd Pear; [Page 148] for, I think, I have met with a kind of large Pear call'd by that name, from it's shape.

Ver. 128. Nor our Italian Vines produce, &c. Is false English; the shape of all Grapes, so far as I've seen or read, is the same.

The Thasian Vines in richer Soils abound, The Mareotic grow in barren Ground. Ver. 131. Ruaeus, and Mr. D. both contradict Virgil here; for it's the Mareotic which requires the fat, heavy Soil, the Thasian, the light, as any one who considers the Latin well, and the nature of the thing, must observe. Mr. D. takes no notice of his Author's observing both these kinds to be white.

Ver. 332. The Psythian Grape we dry. It's very dubious whether that be Virgil's meaning — Lagaean juice will stammering Tongues, and staggering Feet produce— Is such stuff, as is intolerable; Virgil says, there's a dusky brown kind of Grape, of a very subtle juice, which soon weakens the Feet, and ties the Tongue; but who can make this sence out of the Translation? Ogylby's in­finitely beyond this — Lagaeos strong, Which soon will try your Feet, and tye your Tongue.

Ver. 134. Rathe ripe are some of later kind, Of Golden some, and some of Purple rind. This Couplet was made only to bring in the fine Northern Phrase, Rathe ripe, else it's false, and none of Virgil's; He says, only some Grapes are of a Purple colour, and early Ripe. Grapes of a Gol­den rind, I'm afraid, are great rarities.

Ver. 136. Raethean Grape. I suppose, is an error of the Press; but the next should be Inferior only to Falernian Wine —For that's Virgil's sence.

[Page 149] The Amminean many a Consulship survives, Ver. 138. And longer than the Lydian Vintage lives, Or high Phanaeus King of Chian growth— Was ever so absurd a piece of Nonsence, call'd Translating a Noble Author? Virgil says, There are a kind of Grapes, call'd Amminean, from their place of growth, which yield Wine of a very strong body, to which, that growing a­bout Mount Tmolus in Lydia, and that about Mount Phanaeus in Chios, tho it self, the King of Wines, must yield, as must that of the smaller white Grape, which Grape, yet yields the most, and the most lasting Wine of all others; but who can make this sence out of Mr. D's Iar­gonry?

The Rhodian in second Services is pour'd to Jove — A ridiculous blunder;Ver. 144. but, which al­most all the Commentators have stumbled on; only they talk of setting Grapes on the Table a­mong other Fruit, for a second Course. Mr. D. will have it, Wine pour'd on the Altar (I sup­pose, for a second Service.) But Virgil says, on­ly, It was acceptable at Tables, and to the fa­vourable Gods; and this answers that other read­ing best Rhodia sicmensis & dijs servata secundis, Secundis belonging to Dijs, and not Mensis, as Philargyrius only could observe.

Nor must Bumasthus his old Honours lose, Ver. 146. In length and largeness like the Dugs of Cows. A Grape this of a very strange figure; the Grape, indeed, may be nam'd from the Cows Teat, but not for length, but for largeness, and [Page 150] fullness of juice, and this agrees well enough with Pliny's account of it.

Ver. 155. The Sallow loves the watry Grounds and low — Not always; for it loves the Banks of Rivers, as Virgil says, and Ditches which are wet, but not low.

Ver. 156. The Marshes Alders— Alders love boggy and moorish Ground, indented with Trenches and Wa­ter cuts. The Rocky Clift, is not the meaning Saxosi montis.

Ver. 158. The baleful Yeugh to Nothern blasts assigns. But how comes this in here, which his Author has plac'd better below? To shores the Myrtles, Virgil's Littora, are only the sides of Rivers, not the salt Beach.

Ver. 160. Regard the extreamest, &c. Is very clear and elegant, instead of See then the utmost, &c.

Ver. 165. Balm slowly trickles thro the bleeding Veins Of happy shrubs in Idumaean Plains. Our Botanists, indeed, say the Shrub yields its Gummy juice, both by incision by others, and by a natu­ral Exudation; which last, Virgil mentions only, but says nothing of the place where it grows, which gave opportunity to Mr. D. to show his Skill in Blunder; for Idumaea has it not, Arabia Foelix is its Native Country; to Palaestine is only adventitious, and Cultivated in Gardens, as Iosephus, and Pliny, and others, inform us.

Ver. 167. — For Medicine good — That's out of Ruaeus's Notes; not out of his Author.

Ver. 168. With Aethiops hoary Trees, and woolly Wood. Where Virgil speaks of Woods among the [Page 151] Aethiopians hoary with soft Wool, which, I suppose were only the Cotton Trees, now very well known.

And how the Seres spin their Fleecy Forests in a slender twine — Did the Seres then spin whole Trees?Ver. 170. So Mr. D. would make us think, but this means only that the Seres drew out the inner Barks of a certain Tree which was spun like Wool, and woven; of this kind, are our present Bengals, and spun and woven by the same People; for Emmenessius's Fancy that the Chineses were known to the Ancients, by the name of Seres; and the Siamites, by that of Sinae, is altogether groundless.

Who mixing wicked Weeds with Words im­pure — But,Ver. 179. how can Words and Weeds be mingled together? Virgil means, they mingle Herbs, or the juices of Herbs of a venomous na­ture, and mutter Charms over them, as Witches are suppos'd to do, And Virgil makes his to do in his Pharmaceutria — The Fate of Envy'd Or­phans would procure — I think, those are not call'd Orphans, who have Fathers alive; but Step-mothers commonly are most spiteful a­gainst such.

Mr. D. here ascribes that to the Flowers, Ver. 183. which Virgil ascribes to the Leaves, and takes no notice at all of them.

With which the Medes to labouring Age be­queath new Lungs. Ver. 185. I doubt, Mr. D's mistaken here, and that no recipe can make new Lungs, and perhaps, shortness of Breath mayn't al­ways rise from the Corruption of them.

[Page 152] Ver. 191. Nor any Foreign Earth of greater name — An impertinent Addition, for Rhymes sake.

Ver. 200. The warriour Horse here bred, is taught to train. Virgil says nothing of that, but that the warlike Horse runs at liberty about the Fields,

Ver. 202.Whose waves — prepares. False Gram­mar only for Rhyme.

Ver. 210.Or is, when known, refus'd — This, with the preceeding verse, is either No sence, or no English.

Ver. 212. Or rais'd on such a spiry volume ride — Is nonsensical fustian; and ver. 215, 17, 22. Hills that — Seas that — Mound that — For which, but there's nothing commoner than this false Construction, as has been observ'd be­fore.

Ver. 214. Their costly labour, and stupendous frame. What does Mr. D. mean by the stupendous frames of Cities and their costly Labour? Virgil by the operum laborem, means their vast Am­phi-theaters Theaters, Guglia's. Aquaeducts, and the like Publick, Magnificent, or useful Works.

Ver. 217. Our two-fold Seas — Is a very odd Phrase; we talk of our four Seas, but few would call them four-fold Seas, unless they were Seas of fire, Air, Earth and Water, or however, con­sisting of different Materials — The rest is Apocryphal.

Ver. 228. For veins of Silver, and for Ore of Gold — But why were the veins of Brass forgotten?

Ver. 236.And greater Scipio's double Name. This is another of the Elegantiae Drydenianae, and [Page 153] perhaps, may have some meaning in it; but it lies very deep.

Their fertility. Ver. 248. Instead of, What kind of Trees their Nature will best agree with.

Yet this suffices the Palladian Plant. Ver. 252. Here Virgil honestly names the Olive Tree, that his Readers might know his meaning; but Mr. D's Prudence, has left his learned Gardiner to find out, if he can, what the Palladian Plant is Virgil too says the Grounds above nam'd de­light in Olive Woods, as being the best for that use; our Translator, it suffices, it makes a sor­ry shift, or will serve with much ado; and a Soil which wants all Succour, is a very perspicuous expression.

Wild Olive shoots — Seedlings are never call'd Shoots by learned Gardiners. Ver. 254.

Then when the bloated Tuscan blows his Horn, Ver. 268. And reeking Entrails are in Chargers born. Here's somewhat of the Horn sticks in Mr. D's Head, which his Author has not the least hint of. The Tuscans us'd to play on their Pipes, it may be, what we call Flageolets, at the time of Sacrificing, their Pipes were made either of Box or Ivory; but, we don't use to talk of Ivo­ry Horns nor Boxen Horns; but perhaps, he read for want of his Spectacles, in some Com­mentator, Tubicen, for Tibicen — Reeking En­trails, are such as are newly taken out of the Belly of a Beast just kill'd; but Virgil speaks of fumantia exta — Smoking Entrails, or such as have been just boil'd, and come off the [Page 154] fire, and from thence, are return'd to the Altar.

Ver. 271. Or Goats that, for which, graze the Field, and burn it bare. Ridiculous, and quite be­side Virgil's purpose, who reflects not on the Goats, as burning up the Fields, for then, no Pasture would be fit for them, but as mischie­vous to all manner of Trees, where they can come at their Barks, for their bite kills the Trees; which, tho the Latines may express by Uro, is not well interpreted by burning with us.

Ver. 274.Swans sail down the watry Road. A choice Phrase, above Virgil's reach!

Ver. 276. There Christal Streams perpetual tenour keep — Perpetual tenour, is a choice Phrase too, and us'd, as I remember, by Mr. D. in the begin­ning of Ovid's Metamorphosis, and there with as little sence as here.

Ver. 278. For what the Day devours, the Nightly Due Shall to the Morn in Pearly drops renew — A ve­ry pleasant mistake! Virgil commends the Fer­tility of the Mantuan Plains, because the Grass grows so fast, that what the Flocks had eaten down by Day, would by the next Morn­ing, by assistance of the Nights moisture, be grown as high again as it was before. Mr. D. thinks that as much as the Sun should waste the Springs by Day, the Night Dew should make up again by Morning; which is an evidence of a very quick Apprehension.

Ver. 282. For Plowing is an imitative toil, Resembling Nature in an easie Soil. Is an admirable eluci­dation of Virgil's sence; that by Plowing, we [Page 155] imitate Nature, i. e. endeavour to make some Lands mellow, as she has done others.

Scarce dewy Beverage for the Bees provides. Ver. 294. Ruaeus, and reason shows, that Virgil by Rorem, meant not Dew, but Rosemarine, meaning such poor Land scarce bears so much as Flowers for the Bees to suck on.

The Food of Snakes. Ver. 295. That's not the meaning of Nigris exesa Chelydris Creta — But that Chalky Ground is often pierced full of holes by Water and other Snakes, which Holes they make not for Food, but for Lodging; but Mr. D. speaks as if the crumbling Stones too, which, yet would prove but a hard Diet, were Snakes meat. Ver. 306.

Such large increase Vesuvian Nola yields. Mr. D. it seems, was resolv'd to cross his Author, and to give Nola a place where Agellius, ridiculously tells us, Virgil had dasht it out; this is cer­tainly, not doing right to him; but one com­fort is, Mr. D. has made it Nonsence, for it was not Nola, but the Field about Nola, which yielded the large increase, and Virgil teaches him to speak so, in the beginning of the same verse.

And such a Country could Acerra boast, Ver. 307. Till Clanius over-flow'd th' unhappy Coast — No, the over-flowing of Clanius made the Soil rich, and the richer it was, yet the more it endan­gered Acerra with its Inundations.

I teach the next, Ver. 309. &c. Here Mr. D. contracts four admirable lines of Virgil into two, and scarce sence of his own, which, I'd rather Translate thus;

[Page 156]
Of Moulds I'll now the various temper show,
If you the heavy or the light would know,
That for your Bread's the best, and this for Wine,
Corn loves the heavy, but the light the Vine.

Ver. 318.If sullen Earth repines Within its native Mansion to retire, And stays without a heap of heavy mire, Is a meer heap of absurdities; the first Periphrasis an obscure Version of Virgil's clean Expressions. But suppose the Earth dug out of a Hole won't go all in again, but makes a little rising, must that needs be mire? Mire commonly lies in Holes, not on Hills, unless in London-streets, by the assistance of the Scavenger.

Ver. 327. This truth by sure experiment is try'd— What truth does Mr. Translator mean here? That salt Earth is neither fit for Vines nor Corn — Vir­gil says nothing to that purpose, nor can any of the Experiments he mentions, declare that; the Poet only shows how, or by what Signs you may distinguish salt and ill temper'd Earth from other kinds; and perhaps, our Salt-Petre-Men, and their method of working is the best Comment on Virgil's discourse.

Ver. 329.Such toiling Peasants twine When through streight passages they strein their Wine. Here we should have a Poeta loquitur, meaning Mr. Bays, for hs Author always talks more to pur­pose; however, the Idaea is fine, and those [Page 157] who cure the Wines in France, or elsewhere, will edifie much by it.

In this close Vessel — I believe this is the first time that ever a Colendar was call'd a close vessel;Ver. 331. the good Woman when she took the Co­lendar for the Chamber-pot, would have been glad to have found it so. But why should salt Land be call'd accurst, unless Mr. D. thinks there was no salt Ground, but what was about the Dead Sea? Beside, salt Marshes are often very fruitful, and tho not so good for Corn, excellent for Pasturage, therefore not accurst.

And by the bitter tast, Ver. 334. &c. A wretched Ver­sion of Two of Virgil's excellent lines!

The meagre kind— Is a new Epithet for a poor soil, Ver. 336. and all poor soil won't crumble into dust, therefore Virgil talks not of it.

The heavier Earth is by her weight betraid, Ver. 343. The lighter in the poising hand is weigh'd — The first line is truth, the second, Nonsence. Had Mr. D. said, Light Earth and heavy, are by weight betray'd, tho betray'd be but a scurvy word, it had been Virgil's sence; but we had wanted the fine Rhyme tag'd too it.

With furrows deep which cast a rising Mound— Is a verse with no meaning in it,Ver. 353. much less Vir­gil's, whose advice here is, to fix your Vine­yards on the side of Hills, and to open them with trenches, for the better mellowing of the Soil for the future Plantation

The Clods expos'd to winter winds will bake — Well,Ver. 354. but baking is the way to prevent Putre­faction [Page 158] or mellowing, and consequently, to spoil the Ground.

Ver. 366. So strong is Custom, such Effects can use In tender Souls of pliant Plants produce. How soft are the Expressions; and how supra Maronian the figures! But what effects does he mean? for preparing a Nursery of an Homogemeal Na­ture, and planting 'em in a parallel to their Original situation, are the effects of Care, not of Custom. Virgil's true sence is not to be un­derstood Morally, but Physically, and amounts to this, So much of advantage arises from keep­ing Plants still to the same usage they met with, when they were young and tender, which, nei­ther Mr. D. nor his Commentators have hit on.

Ver. 368. Chuse next a Province for thy Vineyards reign, &c. Meer fustian, therefore, be sure, none of Virgil's, who, only bids his Farmer see whe­ther the Hills or the Plains are like to agree best with the design'd Vineyard; for, tho Virgil re­commends the sides, as the most Eligible where their situation's good, yet if the sides of Hills in my Ground lie expos'd to blasting or pinching Winds, and a falling Sun, I must be content with a Vineyard on the flat, as more likely to do well than the former.

Ver. 374. Extend thy loose Battalions, &c. Here Mr. D. like one of the Forlorn-hope, is running upon the Enemy at random, and spoiling a beautiful Similitude, by beginning it before the time; and yet, what he puts in front, has no kind of Cohaerence with that of Virgil, which follows, [Page 159] after; Virgil shows the Quincuncial Order, some think the Square two, as the best to Plant the Ordines, See Lipsius de Militiâ Romanâ. L. 4. Dial. 1. where he descants on these very lines of Virgil. or Rows of Vines in, on Hill sides; but how either one or other can be pick'd out of Mr. D's Iargonry, no body can find.

And move to meet their Foes — Here Mr. D. will,Ver. 380. as usual, be wiser than his Author. Virgil shows us an Army Embattail'd standing still, and facing the Enemy, whose posture then, resembles that which he would have Vines Planted in; but I believe Mr. D. never heard of a Vineyard moving, tho he may of Macduff's besieging Dunsinnane Castle, or of the Kentish Parade, to meet William the Conqueror.

And equal Mars, Ver. 384. like an impartial Lord, Leaves all to fortune, and the dint of Sword. Is by no means Virgil's sence, which, perhaps, may be better exprest thus;

As when Embattel'd Troops expect a Charge,
And the Battalions all their Fronts enlarge;
Stand to their Arms, and with a Martial Grace,
In Ranks unmov'd th' opposing Army face,
While yet, they for the fatal Signal stay,
And waving Arms the glittering Fields di­splay;
And fickle Mars to neither part retains,
But hovers dubious o'er the dreadful Plains;
So let your Vines at equal distance stand,
Not that your Eye the Prospect may com­mand▪
[Page 160]But that each Plant alike may tast the Ground,
And freely throw their spreading Branches round.

Which lines, if I'm not too much mistaken, give us a much fairer view of the Poets mean­ing, than Mr. D's tedious and impertinent Paraphrase.

Ver. 389. That their extreamest lines may scarce em­brace, Is inexplicable Nonsence.

Ver. 392. But for the Ground it self this only way— In­stead of, For that, without which it's false English, with which, it's like R. Wisdom's streins.

Ver. 397. Not to the rest of Plants — Plants compre­hend all things growing from the Ground, even Roots and Flowers; but Virgil plainly distin­guishes between Vines and Trees, as if the for­mer were only to be reckon'd among Shrubs So that Mr. D's Translation's only a proof of his Ignorance.

Ver. 400. And next the lower Skies a Bed profound. Whether Nebuchadnezzar's Tree was the Aescu­lus, or any kind of Oak, I know not; but this which Mr. D. describes, and which his Author would have been scar'd at the thoughts of, must be at least as high as that he dreams of; for the lower Skies must be those over the Heads of our Antipodes; but if the Roots of Mr. D's Oak must reach next those Skies, they must strike thro, and beyond the Center at least, and that's a great way, and very answerable to a Tree, whose top reaches up to Heaven, without a figure.

[Page 161] And Lives of mortal Men contend in vain — With what? Ver. 406. Where's the sence and Grammar of this line? Or where can Mr. D. find a Pa­rallel expression?

Full in the midst of his own strength, Ver. 407. &c. is all fustian, absurd figures, neither suitable to Virgil's Character nor sence. What if this whole Sentence were Translated thus?

If you how deep to plant your vines would know,
Vines, tho but shallow set, will kindly grow:
But solid Trees a deeper Graft require;
So the huge Oak, whose scaring tops aspire
To touch the Clouds, with taper Roots will go
Downward as deep, to reach the shades below.
Hence it unshock'd with Winter storms re­mains,
Or sudden Whirl-winds, or impetuous Rains;
Out-lasts a tedious Course of Humane Lives,
And a long long Posterity survives;
Spreads out its Boughs, and mighty Arms around,
The Father Trunk it self, with a vast Om­brage crown'd.

Nor Prune with blunted Knife the Progeny — Of what? Ver. 413. Or who ever, before our Translator, call'd the Suckers of a Vine, the Progeny? Or us'd that word absolutely? And who could pick out Virgil's meaning from this Translation? Which, advises the Farmer to take his Layers neither from among the top Branches of the Vine, nor from among the lower Suckers, but from the middle Branches, which are the [Page 162] strongest, and the best; but not to hurt them with a blunt Knife, when he lays them; which, by the way, shows what Virgil meant by his Malâ falce. Eclog. 3. ver. 10.

Ver. 415. For sparkling fire from Hinds unwary Hands, Is often scatter'd o'er their unctuous Rinds. How was it possible Mr. D. should stumble upon so absurd a Fancy? Or why should — sub Cartice — signifie, o'er the Rinds? But was it ever known, that Farmers planted wild Olives among their vines, and scatter'd fire among 'em, which presently set the green Trees a blaz­ing? Or did Virgil's Farmers take Tobacco, from which, we know what mischiefs have sometimes happen'd? Or did the Link-Boys of those days knock their Links against the Olive Trees, and so set them on fire? Had but Mr. D. look'd a little into his Commentators, he'd have found there, a Quotation from Aristotle de Coelo, l. 2. and Thucydides, l. 2. and from his Friend Lucretius, lib. 5. which would have taught him, that Trees by rubbing one against another in a wind, have been set a-fire, which must lurk under the Bark, by the galling of which it's rais'd, for a while, till it breaks out by the continual agitation of the wind, and spreads ruines among the Trees; and this is what Vir­gil meant and forewarn'd his Farmers of.

Ver. 419.It crackles in the leaves — In other places, Mr. Translator out-rants his Author, and loads us with bombastic stuff; here he dwin­dles into nothing, and talks of crackling in the leaves, where Virgil, who knew how to soar [Page 163] in season, tells us of the Flame — Frondes elap­sus in altas Ingentem caelo sonitum dedit. As creeping and insipid are his next lines.

Of the long Files destroys the beauteous Form — Here Mr. D's gotten again into his Ranks and Files,Ver. 423. where no Soldiers are permitted to straggle from their Band, so fond is he of a silly Thought, and of Burlesquing his Author.

But the wild Olive shoots, Ver. 427. and shades the in­grateful Plain — A Plain then it must be, whether the Vineyard be on a Hill-side or in a Bottom; take the whole Sentence thus Tran­slated:

Let not your Vineyards face the falling Sun,
Nor sow rough Hazles where your Vines should run;
Nor take the utmost Tendrils of the Vine,
And the poor Suckers from the Roots decline▪
But draw your Layers from the Trunk below,
Those soon familiar with the Soil will grow:
But ne'er with rough-edg'd Knives the Bran­ches wound,
Nor let wild Olive Plants infect the Ground.
Oft, when their Work the thoughtless Far­mers leave,
Their fretting Boughs an inward Fire conceive,
Which, hugg'd beneath the Oily Rind, grows strong,
And grasps the Body as it creeps along,
Till mounting thro' the crackling Leaves, at last
The flame breaks upward with a thundering Blast.
[Page 164]Feeds on the Boughs, the lofty tops commands,
While wrapt in flames the blazing Forest stands,
And hurls dark Clouds of Smoke against the Skies;
But chiefly, if a sudden Tempest rise,
Break on the Woods, and every blast engage
To add new furies to the Conquerors rage.
Thus should a Vineyard fall, the Sapless Roots
No more could flourish with their former Shoots;
No Pruner's Art could make the Branches rise,
Nor could the Soil advance the like supplies,
But self-sown bitter Olives soon would reign
O'er all the Vineyard, and their Ground main­tain.

This, whatever the Verse may be, I'm sure's more agreeable to Virgil's sence than Mr. D's.

Ver. 430. When Winter Frosts constrain the Field with cold, The fainty Roots can take no steady hold — This I'm certain does not grow out of Virgil. To constrain the Field, is Nonsence; and Virgil talks not of the faintness of the Roots, but the hardness of the Ground.

Ver. 432. But when the Golden Spring reveals the Year. Ver Rubens is not the Golden Spring; and to re­veal the Year, is Nonsence.

Ver. 437. Or Capricorn admits the Winters Sun — is meer stuff, and not related to Virgil.

Ver. 439. The Womb of Earth the Genial Seed receives— It had been better to have said, Then Earths rich Womb, &c. but receives, is not the sence of poscunt; and if Mr. D. does not, I do know that asking and receiving are two things.

[Page 165] And mixing his large Limbs with hers — gives us a very strange Idaea of Almighty Iove. Ver. 442. When Metamorphos'd for an Amour, he might have well-set Limbs; but, when he influences the Earth, the figure's ridiculous.

The Western Spirit — for Tepentes aurae Zephyri, Ver. 447. as if Spirits were only Airy Bodies, which, perhaps, may be the Translator's Philosophy; or as if Aura signified Spirit, or Spirit were a fine way of expressing the Morning Air or Wind.

And on the Faith of the new Sun relies. Ver. 452. Vir­gil speaks somewhat toward this, concern­ing the Grass; Mr. D. will mend him, by ap­plying it to the Vines; but his Fancy adds no great Beauty to his Author — Nec metuit sur­gentes pampinus Austros, Aut actum coelo mag­nis Aquilonibus imbrem, were beneath Mr. D's regards — or the swerving Vines on the tall Elms prevail, quite bewildred me; but if Mr. D. means the Vines crept up the tall Elms, then it's plain they did not swerve. However, the Phrase is delicate.

They spread their Gems the genial warmth to share, Ver. 455. And boldly trust their Buds in open Air — Gems, as Mr. D. calls 'em, are Buds, or those little round Puts on the Vine which shoot in­to Branches; the Frondes are the leaves after­wards rising from those Branches.

In this soft Season, &c is so perverse a Translation,Ver. 457. as his own Mac-flecno would scarce have been guilty of; but by Transla­ting Crediderim in Virgil, by, so sweet Poets sing, seems to intiate, that he'd have every body [Page 166] believe what he writes, since he has set up for a sweet-singer — In prime of all the Year, and Holydays of Spring — is unintelligible Fusti­an. From hence to the 474 Verse, he comes no nearer Virgil, than a Colt would do to a wind-mill; but his observation, That Man at the first Creation, was made of Stones, (from whence, Virgil had good reason to call him Ferrea Progenies,) is an Original.

Ver. 475.And dung with hot Manure — An ad­mirable Hypallage for Manure with hot dung.

Ver. 476.These 4 lines would move a Stoick's Spleen. Virgil bids his Farmer lay Stones, or Shells in the Ground about the Roots of his Trees, that by their hollowness the water may the more easily moisten the Roots, and invigorate the Plants, All which, is an Operation under ground. Mr. D. supposes it would rise in Dews from among the stones to water the Shoots above ground, which is a very fine Speculation, and I hope, our great Planters will thank him for it.

Ver. 492.To raise their forky Head, for Heads is false English; and to set it off the better, Virgil by Furcas bicornes, means forked Poles, or Crotches to support the Vines. Mr. D. thought the Vines themselves, had forked Heads, which argu'd a very clear Apprehension. The same good English he gives us again, l. 498. While they spread Their springing Leaves, and lift their Infant Head.

Ver. 500.Childhood and Nursling, are Boyish Fi­gures when applied to Plants. Nor exercise thy Rage on new-born Life; silly and imper­tinent.

[Page 167]Crop luxuriant stragglers, Ver. 504. nor be loath To strip the Branches of their Leafie growth. Vir­gil only means, If the Leaves be too thick with­in, and hinder the Sun, and Air's influence too much, you must not cut the inner Branches with the Knife, but thin the Leaves with your Hand; which I could never have found out by Mr. D's Version.

Disobedient Boughs — Beyond their Ranks — The Lawless Troops which Disci­pline disclaim, Ver. 507, 8, 9. don't grow out of Virgil, but out of a shallow Brain.

Virgil talks of his Indignae Hyemes;Ver. 517. Mr. D's Noddle runs upon unworthy Brouze, far e­nough from the Poet's meaning.

Nor Dog-days parching Heat, Ver. 520. which splits the Rocks — is a new Thought, and far above Vir­gil's reach.

When Earthen Images adorn the Pine, Ver. 536. And there are hung on high, in Honour of the Vine — I hope, none will think this is the meaning of Virgil's Oscilla ex altâ suspendunt mollia pinu. Nor can I agree with Ruaeus's Interpreting Oscilla, by little Earthen Images; since the mol­lia are an odd Epithet for them, nor is there any reason to understand Mobilia by Mollia, the Translation's too Catechrestical; but Mollia Oscilla seem to be Effoeminate disguises, or Masques, which, after their ridiculous Baccha­nalian Mummeries, they hung up in remem­brance of those Games, wherein, they us'd such loosness. Whereas, as Mr. D. goes on at ver 540. to Translate, as if the Images of Bac­chus [Page 168] were hung up like Kings-Fishers in Coun­try Kitchins, to show which way the wind sits; were it true, the Wind would turn the Pen­dulous Image every way, and every Field by that means, would be blest. But Virgil means, that which way soever the God himself, not his little Image, turns his jolly Countenance, or nods his Head in token of Favour, (which Favour was only attainable by offering the appointed Sacrifices at the appointed time) there the Vineyards would thrive and multiply.

Ver. 546. Whose offer'd Entrails shall his Crime reproach, And drop their fatness from the Hazle broach — is very obscure, and not the English of Pingui­aque in verubus torrebimus exta colurnis; where, pinguia exta shows the goodness requir'd in the Sacrifice, that it should be well fed, and the Entrails white, but if the fat were never so little, when roasted on the Hazle Spit, or broil'd on the Broach, (to humour the Translator) it might drip away.

Ver. 550. For thrice at least in compass of the Year Thy Vineyard must employ the sturdy Steer — Mi­stake upon mistake! Virgil does not say, thrice at least, but, very often; so terque quaterque, signifies as every School-boy knows; nor must Steers be brought in to Plough among well rooted Vines; but the Ground must be dug with broad-tin'd Forks, to prevent hurting the Vine Roots, and must be carefully stirr'd, to mellow the soil, and to give the Root-Fibres liberty.

[Page 169]The Leaves to thin that (for which) suck the vital moisture of the Vine. Ver. 555. Not at all, but to give the Clusters Air to ripen.

In the lowest Months, Ver. 558. when Storms have shed From Vines the hairy honours of their Head — What are the lowest Months! Or in what Country is that Phrase us'd? I thought too the Vines, not the Storms, had shed their Leaves; their Head is false English, and, pray, what are the Hairy honours of the Vines Head? At this rate, I'm afraid, Sylvester's woods Peri­wig'd with Snow, must be no more Fustian.

To commend excess, Ver. 570. is absurd, and not countenanc'd by his Author, in the least.

The Shrubs of prickly Thorn, Ver. 572. suppose it sence, are very unfit to bind Vines with. But Butchers Broom is us'd in Italy, V. Raij Hist. Plant. l. 13. c. 12. and very fit for that work, it growing Densis viminibus, len­tis, fractuque contumacibus, &c.

Nor when thy tender Trees at length are bound, Ver. 576. is the third Rhyme, but neither ends the sence, nor the Period; nor does ver. 579. do it.

Insulting o'er the toils, Ver. 581, 4. &c. An absurd Phrase, and not growing out of Virgil; and their joys are unsincere; false, for any Man's joys may be very hearty and real for what's past, tho he have a return of work afterwards.

But fixt below Rejoice in open air, Ver. 588. and unconcern'dly grow — Quite beside his Authors sence, who only asserts, Olive Trees are very hardy when they have drawn good Root, and are us'd to, or season'd in the weather.

[Page 170] Ver. 593. Soft Peace they figure, and sweet Plenty bring — is none of Virgil's sence. Hoc pinguem & pla­citam paci nutritor olivam. i. e. Therefore plant the fat Olive, which is the Emblem of Peace, indeed, but not of Plenty, nor do those things always go together, nor does Virgil teach any here to sing Hymns to Pallas.

Ver. 599. Till with the ruddy freight the bending Bran­ches groan. The precedent lines are but so many mistakes of his Author; and this line he applies to Apple Trees, which Virgil applies to those, which Mr. D. very Elegantly calls Trees of Nature.

Ver. 602. Vile Shrubs are shorn for browze — is very pleasant; what Virgil calls elsewhere, Floren­tem cytisum, can't be so very vile a Shrub; but why shorn or cut for browze, for so Ru [...]eus In­terprets tondentur? Cattel browze on the ten­der twigs when growing, If those Shoots are cut off, there's no browzing for them, nor is it browzing to eat 'em when cut off, if they could, any more than to eat Hay is grazing.

Ver. 603.The towring height Of Unctucus Trees are Torches for the Night. A very fine Periphrasis for tall Trees afford Flambeaux Staves, and maintain Fires in the Night, and give light. By Mr. D's way of expressing it, a Man would think his Unctuous Trees were made natural Beacons, and fir'd as they grew, to make Illumi­nations; and the towring height — are — is ve­ry good English.

Ver. 614. Narycian Woods of Pitch — Tho Virgil might call them, Picis lucos; yet his Interpre­ter [Page 171] should have call'd 'em Firr, or Pitch Trees; a Wood or Grove of Pitch or Rosin, sounds very odly in English. — Whose gloomy shade Is for retreat of thoughtful Muses made — is an im­pertinent flourish of the Translator.

Even cold Caucasean Rocks with Trees are spread, Ver. 618. And wear green Forests on their hilly Head — is to explain Virgil's words, Barren Woods, or Woods without Fruit grow on the top of Caucasus, and their Head is exquisite Gram­mar.

Tho shent their Leaves — What's the En­glish of that?Ver. 621. Our Western People when they say, We shall be shent, mean, They shall be chid­den; but what means Mr. D.?

Cypress provides for Spokes and Wheels for Wains — I wonder in what Country?Ver. 624. Or how the Translator came to think his Author talk'd so? For, he says, The Woods in general afforded such; but Cedars and Cypresses were for wainscoting, and cieling Houses; nor are all kinds of Wood for Keels of Ships, as any Shipwright will inform him; so Myrtles and Cornels both make Iavelins or Spears, not Shafts or Arrows, light Wood making them best. And Yeagh and Bow, is just Brains and Stairs; and it may be Kerve, v. 632. is but a new fangled word; tho we know there is a Kerf made in sawing Timber.

Wine urg'd to lawless Lusts the Centaurs train — I find then the Lapitha are out of Mr. D's favour,Ver. 627. sure they were Williamites, and therefore forgotten; but Virgil and Ovid, [Page 172] both remember them, as concern'd as far as the other in Pirithous's wedding-feast, and the unhappy Consequences.

Ver. 647, 8, 9, 50.These four lines are all spurious, Excrescen­ces of the Translator's Brain, and as just as his Thoughts commonly are. The Gyants at Guild-Hall, doubtless, put him in mind of his threatning Statues, unless he Dreamt of those which came to supper with Don Iuan, in the Libertine. His Persian Arras is very quaint too; and, I suppose, the Town of Ar­ras, since our late Wars, has taken shelter un­der the Wings of Casbeen, or Ispahan; or it may be, Babylon was the Ancient Name of Arras; for I'm sure, Mr. D. had some reason for that Epithet, and the rest is as plain as the Nose on a Man's Face, that in Persian Arras — Vests thro their shady Fold, good Grammar again! Betray the streaks of ill dissembled Gold. This had certainly turn'd my Stomach, but, that reading Mr. Cowley's admirable Para­phrase on this Encomium of the Country Life, settled my brain again, and made me sleep without the trouble of the Night Mare. I pass by his foolish Alteration of Virgil's whole Scheme.

Ver. 659.60. Unvext with Quarrels — This is an imper­tinent tautology; we had it in 640 before, and Virgil gives us nothing like it.

Ver. 671. From hence, Astraea took her flight, and here The prints of her departing steps appear — This was stollen from Mr. Cowley, and therefore, good.

[Page 173]Free from Cares and Strife — The same ungrounded tautology again.Ver. 686.

Nor, Ver. 707. when contending Kindred tear the Crown, Will set up one, or pull another down — But a Republican will pull both down; and of such, we have now, too many.

The Senate's mad Decrees he never saw — This is a Flirt at our Parliaments too,Ver. 718. and should the Reflection be just, it's besides his Text quite; the Populi Tabularia were the Chancery Court, and the Rolls, where, what we seek for, I fear to no purpose, a publick Registry of Lands, &c. was kept.

With Wars and Taxes others wast their own — Still girding at the Publick Management;Ver. 727. and yet, not unwilling that the French King, while he kept his Honour, should have put the three Kingdoms to greater Charges.

I [...] an extravagant Paraphrase, Ver. 745, 53. of two full lines, and not at all the advantage of the sence; besides, the transposition of the Original's beau­tiful Order.

The Vines liquid Harvest Bak'd in the Sunshine of ascending Fields — whatever Retrospect the Translator may pretend to,Ver. 753. is Fustian Non­sense.

And winter fruits are mellow'd in the frosts — is a new discovery, Ver. 758. and the Farmer commonly takes care to prevent the frosts affecting his fruit, for rottenness, not a grateful mellowness, commonly succeeds it.

Kids with budding Horns prepar'd—is an elegancy,Ver. 765. Valla or Buc [...] were never ac­quainted [Page 174] with; such another is that 772. The Herdmen provoke his Health, i. e. they drink his Health in a round.

Ver. 773. The Groom his fellow Groom at Buts defies, And bends his Bow, and levels with his Eyes. As this shows Mr D. a compleat Archer, so it's a very good Account of shooting at a Prize fixt on the top of a Pole, which Virgil speaks of only, which he mentions again, at the Funeral Games for Anchises, and which, several Nations practice to this Day; we may be sa­tisfied by this, that Mr. D's sometimes very cautious, and will not Altum sapere.

Ver. 779.From whom the austere Hetrurian virtue rose — What, from Romulus and Remus? that's new! It's true, Mr. D. out of his vast unknown Treasury, sometimes furnishes us with an odd piece of Antiquity, very great, and very surprising. It's the extream unhappiness of Graevius and Gr [...]novius, that they're un­ [...]cquainted with him.

This Description of the Country Life, is Mr. D's Master-piece, or at least, the most pardonable of any thing we have met with yet; but whosoever reads the Original, and Mr. Cowley's Translation, and this together, will easily find the difference between Tissue and Tinsel, the plain, unaffectedly clear Sence of Mr. Cowley, and the glaring, taudry, super­ficial Dress of Mr. Dryden. One understood, and study'd his Author, and by a strange Sym­pathy of Humour, Copy'd him justly; the o­ther, had little of Virgil's Genius, and only [Page 175] study'd himself, and therefore wrote like him­self, and almost, has lost the Character of his incomparable, pretended Master.

BOOK III. Of the GEORGICS.

WE are now entring a new Field, and examining a piece of Mr. D's Younger Labours, where to spare our own trouble, and the Reader's expence, our Observations will be fewer, whether his faults be so or not. Mr. D. ought to look for more severity than other Men, since he values himself above all Man­kind, and is the most unmerciful in his own Reflections on others; which, considering his own obnoxious State, and how little he was able formerly, when his Blood ran high, to defend himself against Mr. Settle, was extream Imprudence; but we lie open to his Exceptions too, and therefore, need not beg any Pardon.

Where cooling Streams invite the Flocks to drink — Is a Patch on a Face which needed it not;Ver. 21. Virgil thought not of it, no more than of that impertinent Parenthesis. Ver. 26.

A Hundred Coursers from the Goal will drive— Read your Author again,Ver. 27. good Mr. D. and count upon your Fingers, and see if Centum quadrijugi currus, are not drawn by above 100 Horses; for Coursers, is a very senceless word there. I'm almost certain, those words could not mean single Horse Caleshes; but, so I remember, some positive Pedants have thought a Hecatomb was but 25 Oxen, but [Page 176] they had some reason, for 25 Oxen might have a 100 feet among them.

Ver. 31.Shall be reserv'd for Caesar, and Ordain'd by Me — is quite beside the Cushion.

Ver. 37. From thence return attended with my train — Thank you, good Iohn Hopkins!

Ver. 40. And shew their Triumph which their shame displays — Speaking of the Britons, whom Mr. D. very learnedly calls Britains, as if it had been so great a shame for a little Island, under a great many petty Kings of different In­terests, to be worsted by the Veterane united Armies of the Roman Empire; or as if solido Elephanto in Latin, were intelligibly Translat­ed by simple Elephant in English.

Ver. 44. His shatter'd Ships on brazen Pillars ride — Very well guest however, and a clear Evi­dence how one Poet understands another by In­spiration. Virgil promises, in a fit of Poetic Grandure, that he'll erect lofty Pillars, cast of the brazen Beaks of Ships, taken from the Egy­ptians, alluding to the four brazen Pillars so cast by Augustus's Orders, after the Reduction of Egypt. And has not Mr. D. given this sence very clearly? Nor, does he shew less discre­tion in talking of Niphates with inverted Urne, and dropping Sedge; when Virgil talks of the same Mountain, which Horace, on a like oc­casion, calls rigidum Niphaten, which Epi­thet, tho there is a River of the same name, and rising, as they say, out of that very Mountain, can properly be applied only to such a Moun­tain, [Page 177] as that part of the Taurus, which is so call'd is.

With backward Bows the Parthians shall be there, Ver. 48. And spurring from the Fight confess their fear. Virgil's sence is, The Parthians shall be represented there, who confide in their flight, and in their way of shooting backward, which is just the same. So immediately, he makes Au­gustus's two Trophies to be recover'd from Eu­rope and Afric, which really were meant from Asia and Britain; which argues good skill in Geography. But neither Shore his Conquests shall confine; is an absurd addition; but above all, for clean Paraphrase, and Noble Figures, the next six lines are Non-pareils, unless equall'd by the closeness of the six following.

Come then, Ver. 71. and with thy self thy Genius bring— as if en age segnes Rumpe moras, were spoken to Mecaenas, which is only applicable to his own Muse.

Sour Headed, strongly Neck'd — Virgil says,Ver. 88. big Headed, and long Neck'd, but so small a difference breaks no squares; but, I suppose, he was thinking of the Manchegan He­ro's Triumphal Cage, drawn A la mode d' Espagne, when he would have the Cows strong Neck'd for the Yoke. But what he means by rising in her Gate, and being free from fears, I believe, few Farmers understand, whatever the Ladies may.

Watch the quick motions of the frisking Tail — that's a new Diagnostic of the Translator's ownVer. 105. [Page 178] Experience; Damaetas thought such a thing an ill Omen.

Ver. 122.And prancing in his Gate, for Et mollia crura reponit, nicely Translated! and to tempt the Flood, is a very good English Phrase; but attempt it, had been better. And Argu­tum Caput, is rather a lean than a sharp Head, if Iockies mistake not.

Ver. 132.And trembling with Delight, no, he trembles with Rage, and all his other motions shew it; but I'm afraid, the double Chin'd Horse must be a Monster.

Ver. 140. He bears his Rider headlong on the Foe — (to pass the foregoing line,) is the character, not of a Horse well train'd for War, and well Man'd, but of a fiery Steed, under a Clinias, or a Da­maetas, or a Man of Mr. D's own Courage; but it's such a Commendation, as Virgil would never have given him, and Virgil's next line, would be enough to confute this Translation.

Ver. 149.Saturn turn'd Horse, &c. Ran up the ridges of the Rocks amain — It was a very strange Beast indeed, and Pacolet's could not have much out-done him; but it's a little unlucky, that Virgil knew not one word of all this. Virgil, good Man! thought that He fill'd Mount Pelion with his Neighings— Mr. D. says no, it was the Plain, the reason must be, He durst not Neigh as he run up the Rocks, for fear of making a false step, and breaking his Neck. It's a wonder Mother Ops did not dis­cover the Traytor by his strange scampering.

[Page 179]These are a lewd Illustration of the most modest Expressions of a chast Poet, Ver. 155 60. who would blush, were he alive again, to see himself Painted in so filthy a Dress.

The flying Chariot kindles in the Course — is absurd Nonsence;Ver. 170. but instead of farther Cri­ticism on these 12 lines, take them thus;

Have you not seen, when Chariots lightly wheel'd
Start from their Stands, and rush along the Field.
How the brisk Drivers pant with Hopes and Fears,
And each with eager cries his Horses chears.
They stretch, and cut, and reach to give the Reins,
While the hot Axis smokes along the Plains;
Now they run smooth, now jump, and mounting high,
Rake thro the Air, and seem to touch the Sky.
No stay, nor rest! while Sandy Tempests rise,
And they who strein, the formost toward the Prize
Grow wet with Foam, and Breath of those behind,
Such eager thirst of Praise enflames the meanest Mind.

To stop, Ver. 183, 4 to fly, the Rules of War to know, To obey the Rider, and to dare the Foe — The La­pithae were fine Gentlemen, and Mr. D. an ex­cellent Panegyrist; but these excellencies are wholly new Discoveries, which, Virgil not [Page 180] knowing of, would sooner have ascrib'd to the Centaurs, than the Lapithae. The next four lines are strangely wide from the Text.

Ver. 207. For all's too little for the craving kind — is so lewd an illation, and this whole Period is so scandalously Translated, and beside his Au­thor, as might justly strike the Book out of every modest Hand.

Ver. 218. For fear the rankness — &c. here Mr. D's mad after his old Lucretian Episode, and what Virgil expresses with the greatest purity, he vitiates, and makes wholly obscaene and de­testable, when all Virgil's meaning is only, that the Mare too rank fed, especially with Grass, won't take so well as one dry fed, and in a lower Condition; which every Horse-breeder knows.

Ver. 231.Where Nature shall provide green Grass, and fatning Clover — this is somewhat ex­traordinary in Forests, and what his Author forgot.

Ver. 235.With holly green — Virgil says, — ilici­bus virentem

Ver. 34 [...]. Tanagrus hastens thence, and leaves his Chan­nels dry — Risum teneatis — Virgil says, The roar of Cattle bitten by the Breez reaches the ve­ry Skies, and makes the woods, and dry banks of Tanagrus, a Winter Torrent, but dry in Sum­mer, Eccho again, Mr. D. supposes the Brook runs away frighted at the noise, which is extreamly Poetical.

Ver. 261. Set him betimes to School, and let him be In­structed in the Rules of Husbandry — these, and the following lines, would put a Man beside [Page 181] all patience; certainly, Mr. D. wanted this care himself; but if Calves must go to School while their Youth is flexible and green, nor have seen the bad Examples of the World; and the stubborn Children must begin to be broke early. St. Francis for my Money! Unless the Tran­slator thinks he can do wonders in the Case.

Thy flattering Method on the Youth pursue, Ver. 270, 5 Ioyn'd with his School-fellows by two and two — E'er the Licentious Youth be thus restrain'd, Or Moral Precepts on their Minds have gain'd — all this of Calves still! Sure, Calves thus Edu­cated, would make excellent Poets; I'm sure some Poets for want of it, have prov'd meer Brutes,

Who fill'd the Pail with Beestnings of the Cow — Well remember'd again,Ver. 288. Mr. Bays, this comes of not going to School to learn the Country Trade.

And let him clashing Whips in Stables hear— is beyond question,Ver. 292. the meaning of — Stabulo fraenos audire sonantes. So again, — Et plausae sonitum cervicis amare — Make him understand The loud applauses of his Master's Hand. Is not this, exquisite Interpreting? To which, may be added — Inscius aevi— very well explain'd — Guiltless of Arms

It's an endless work to mark the Absurdi­ties of this Translation, yet, who can forbear observing how Mr. D. Translates — spumas aget ore cruentas

Sustains the goring Spurs — but who canVer. 316. guess why he Translates — Belgica vel molli [Page 182] melius feret esseda collo — Or, bred to Belgian Waggons leads the way, Untired at Night, and chearful all the Day?

Ver. 360. His Horns, yet soar, he tries against a Tree, And Meditates his absent Enemy — is ridicu­lous Nonsence, and all this Battle of Bulls so impertinently vary'd from his admirable Au­thor, as if he design'd an abuse, not a Transla­tion of him; and tho Virgil might say in La­tin — Signa movet — meaning, — He marches forward, could any Man of sence remember what he was speaking of, and say, A Bull, single too, moves his Camp? It's a wonderful Honour to our English Tongue, to have a top­ping Author write thus.

Ver. 376. The secret Ioys, &c. — This, and several following lines show how hard it is for an inveterate Debauchee to be modest, and what care ought to be taken of such as pretend to Translate Latin Authors, who it seems, creep under the shelter of their Authors Names to instill Filthiness, and Obscoenity into the Minds of such who can't command the Originals; the Faults are too many to be noted.

Ver. 399. The sleepy Leacher shuts his little Eyes, About his churning Chops the frothy Bubbles rise — Vir­gil has nothing like this, and every word in it is ridiculous. The Boar while he's grinding and rooting, can't be very sleepy, Love com­monly keeps the Lover awake. Shuts his lit­tle Eyes — that is, for Sleeping or Meditation; for why mayn't Boars have as good Morals as the best educated Calves in the World? But [Page 183] the Chaps must churn in the Dream, or else the Pigsnyes must be awake again; and for the frothy bubbles, they must rise from the Churn, and, must needs be extraordinary indi­cations of violent Love. The Sluces of the Sky were open spread — is another very sensible Ex­pression, and much to Virgil's purpose.

But far above the rest, Ver 419. &c. — here again our Translator runs at random, indulging his own lewd Fancy, and neglecting his Text.

But when they seem exhausted swell the Pail — Never,Ver. 484. certainly, has any Man met with such Cows and she Goats as Mr. D. Their dugs are in­exhaustible, and the least of 'em would almost make a Chedder Cheese at a Meal. But Camelots made of Goats hair is a Bull, and neither private Centinels, nor Marriners are much troubl'd with Camelot Cloaks.

In depth of Winter to defend the Snow — is a particular way of speaking,Ver. 495. which Mr. D. much delights in; and to defend the Snow, is indeed, to defend from the Snow, which is a Phrase as clear as the Sun at Midnight.

Produce in open Air Both Flocks, Ver. 502. and send 'em to their Summer fare — needs not to be reflected on, but as the English to In saltus utrumque Gregem atque in pascua mittes.

Before the Sun, Ver. 50 [...]. while Hesperus appears — what can that mean? Hesperus appears pre­sently after Sun-set; but that can't be the Poets meaning, but it's Lucifer, as Virgil calls him, which appears before the Sun in the Morning, and which, follows in the rear of [Page 184] the departing Stars, as Ovid; and while he shines, and before the Sun's up, the Dew lies in deed upon the Grass; but it's plain, Mr. D. knows no difference between the Evening and the Morning Star.

Ver. 522. When Linnets fill the Woods, &c. Mr. D. will defend himself here by his Friend Ruaeus, and other Dutch Commentators, yet Servius hints at the Nightingale; and since the Poet is describing the Evening when Linnets are all hush'd, Common Sence would have taught him, that Virgil could mean no Bird but the Nightingale, and this, a judicious Translator would easily have observ'd.

Ver. 556.The Ice an Hostry now for Waggons — which, if it answer Virgil's — Hospita Plaustris, is a very considerable Discovery, and is some­what beyond the Thames, during Blanket Fair; so again, — And thence By weight the so­lid Portions they dispence, is not Virgil's — Et totae solidam in glaciem vertere lacunae.

Ver. 566. The sterving Cattle perish in their Stalls — by no means; they are stall'd to prevent it, for, there they are warm, and their Keepers find means to give 'em Fodder, tho the Snow be very deep.

Ver. 571.Or makes a distant War with Dogs — can never be the sence of — non agitant immis­sis Canibus — Mr. D. here mentions several Implements of Hunting, which Virgil names not, but takes no notice of — Puniceaeve agitant pa­vidos formidine pinnae — was it because it was [Page 185] insignificant, or because, he really did not un­derstand it?

Such are the cold Ryphaean race, Ver. 586. and such The savage Scythian, and Unwarlike Dutch — Pray, what difference must we put between the Ryphaean race and the Scythian, since the Ryphaean Mountains are in Scythia? And what temptation could Mr. D. have, to attack the Dutch in their Winter Quarters? Was it be­cause they are of the same Flegmatic and Unwarlike Temper with himself? Of all Per­sons, a Roman Writer would never have call'd the Batavians unwarlike, and they'd rarely mention 'em without Honour. And Mr. D. should have remember'd he was now Tran­slating the great Master of Decency among the Romans, and not Advice to a Painter. The Batavians are Celebrated by the Romans, both for their Fidelity, and their Valour. And those who are acquainted with the Story of their Recess from Spain, must own, either that the Spaniards were meer Cowards, and Men of no spirits, or that the Dutch were not so un­warlike as our Malecontent would make 'em. And the Camps of Prince Maurice, and Prince Henry Frederic, were the Schools of Mars, where most of the great Commanders of the last Age were brought up in the Art of War; and perhaps, His present Majesty, the Heir of those Martial Princes, has let the World see that his Countrymen can fight; nor have our Naval Broils prov'd 'em altogether unwarlike, for it's possible Men may be stout Soldiers, and [Page 186] cunning Merchants at the same time; but however, they must be with our Translator, rude Barbarians, drest in the skins of Beasts, Bears, and Foxes. I remember Report talkt such things of some of that unwarlike Crew who came o'er with the Prince of Orange, but the same report said they were Swisses and Lap­landers, which frighted some very unwarlike People.

Ver. 608.And to the Taste restore the savour of the Salt — for Et salis occultum referunt in lacte saporem —Does not such an Interpretation shew an extraordinary acumen?

Ver. 610. Some, when the Kids the Dams too deeply drein, With Gags and Muzles their soft Mouths re­strain — This is Mr. D's sence. Virgil's is, When it's time to wean the Kids, some put a prickly Muzle on their Noses, which hurting the Dam, she'll let 'em suck no more; but for Gag­ging 'em, that's a new Device; as new a way of speaking is that of — Pursuing the fear of fly­ing Hares with the crys of Hounds, and To rouze from their Dens the bristled rage of Boars; which, shows too no great skill in Hunting But I must remember, Mr. D. long since, rejected cant Words, and terms of Art.

Ver. 631.And shunning Heavens broad Eye, Coelum does not signifie that broad thing. But the English Parnassus is a very good help sometimes. And Snakes familiar to the Heath succeed, Dis­close their Eggs, and near the Chimney breed — this, beside that superfine Phrase of succeeding to the Hearth — is nihil ad Iphicli boves. I [Page 187] don't remember that the Italians had Chim­neys in their neat Houses, nor in their Sheep­coats, nor did they live in Virgil's days, as they had done under the Government of old Sa­turns beard.

— Cum frigida parvas
Praeberet spelunca domos, ignemque laremque
Et pecus & dominos communi clauderet umbrâ.
Iuven. Satyr 6.

which Mr. D. thus scantily Translates —

When in a narrow Cave, their common shade,
The Sheep, the Shepherds, and their Gods were laid.

And which, was thus Paraphras'd by a for­mer Hand;

'Twas when whole Families and Gods were found
Nestled in little Burrows under ground;
When Hall and Kitchin were one nasty hole,
Where Men and Swine in common dirt might roul —

But these Days are now past; and therefore, Mr. D's Version's unseasonable, and childish.

Or with hard Stones demolish from afar His haughty Crest, Ver. 640. the seat of all the War — is a strange kind of Language; and sure, that de­molish is a Cant word, and very odly apply'd; but by the seat of all the War, I suppose, Mr. D. means the place where all the danger springs; now that's the Mouth, not the Crest, for, I think, the venom seldome lies there, but a­bout the Teeth; now if the Teeth be demolish­ed, [Page 188] the Adder will soon be Crest-fallen, I make no doubt; but what demolishing it means, I confess, I know not; nor do I believe, that when a wounded Adder, or Snake hides his Head — he leaves expos'd to blows his Back and batter'd Sides — any longer than needs must.

Forgets to rear The hopes of Poison for the following Year — is all fustian again,Ver. 668. and ex­travagant; for tho the Calabrian Snake may fly off his Nest at a Man, or for thirst may go a great way off, and be very dangerous to all he meets, it does not follow at all, that he must leave his Brood; such a Thought could never have grown out of Virgil, and looks but scurvily now it's stuck to him.

Ver. 673. When the raw Rain has pierced 'em to the quick, Or searching Frosts have eaten thro the Skin — where Virgil teaches his Shepherd, that the scab breeds in his Flocks, either in moist slabby weather, or in severe frosts, either of which affect 'em to the quick. But for that, when burning Icicles are lodg'd within, it's an Original; and if the Court Ladies can't under­stand it better than your Shepherds and Far­mers, it will pass for exquisite Nonsence; how­ever, burning Icicles will always be admir'd.

Ver. 681. And their Flock's Father— his usual Peri­phrasis for the Ram. Forc'd from high to leap — false English, and which, that he might have been all of a piece, should have been — whom in Floods they steep — and that had been bet­ter Rhyme too — Swims down the Stream, and plunges in the deep — now durst I lay a Ia­cobus, [Page 189] that if the Father of the Flock be forc'd to leap from high, he'll plunge in the deep before he swims down the Stream—so that this is an egre­gious Hysteron Proteron. But if Mr. D. stands to see Sheep wash'd in a River, he'll find they are not only thrown in from high, but that Men are fain to take somewhat more pains with 'em, and if after washing, they are left to swim down the Stream, it's only for a convenient Landing place.

Virgil's Medicine for the Scab among Sheep, Ver. 683. is a Composition of Lees of Oil, Mercury, Flower of Brimstone, Rosin, Bees-wax, Squills, Hele­bore; for which, now a-days, they take To­bacco stalks, and Pitch — for these, Mr. D. orders, Mother'd Oil, Founts where living Sul­phurs boil, The Scum that swims on mol­ten Silver, fat Pitch, black Bitumen, the wan­ton labour of the Bees, with Hellebore and Squills deep rooted in the Seas — Quaere, who's the better Leach, and more intelligible Author? Add to this, — The secret Vice is fed — for ali­tur vitium, as if vitium in Latine were of no larger a signification, than vice in English, and you have an excellent Doctor and Interpre­ter together.

Virgil for the Fever in Sheep, Ver. 700. advises — In­ter ima ferire pedis venam — i. e. says, Servius, to Breath a vein on the top of the Foot, or be­tween the Nails. Mr. D. advises to breath a vein underneath the Foot, so he constru'd his Author; but what part of the Hoof, pray, do the veins lie in in Horses, Kine, Goats, or Sheep?

[Page 190] Ver. 709. Revenge the Crime, and take the Traytor's Head — but, why is it a Crime for a Sheep to be sick? Or how comes the sick Creature to be a Traytor? Or why must he lose his Head? These Questions, I confess, are to me unan­swerable, to kill one which is diseas'd to prevent Contagion, is good, but Shepherds very seldom turn Headsmen. But this agrees well enough with the Nation of Sheep, because Virgil calls 'em gentem, which shows a deep reach; and with the Shepherds happy Reigns — for Regna Pastorum — Dr. Busby would never have par­don'd such Construing.

Ver. 722.The dumb Creation — i. e. Trees, unless they happen to be vocal; Earth, unless there be some Aetnaean Rupture in it, Sea, Sky, Stars, yet Virgil talks nothing of these; but Birds and Beasts are not the dumb Creation, un­less every thing be so which can't speak with Humane voice. Birds and Beasts have a Lan­guage of their own, which they mutually un­derstand, and are as noisie, and as rational too as some Men. Again, whence comes that difference between tame Cattel, and the Beasts of Nature? Are tame Cattel monsters, or un­natural Products? But this is the Iauntee way of writing.

Ver. 731. Converting into Bane the kindly juice Or­dain'd by Nature for a better use; is the exact sence of — Omniaque in se ossa minutatim morbo collopsa trahebat.

Ver. 737.By the holy Butcher — This becomes Mr. D. and doubtless, is the true English of [Page 191] such a sacerdos as he would have made, had he been admitted, but in it he shows his re­spect, not to Pagan Priests, whom prehaps, in many cases, it might be proper enough to ri­dicule, but to all, for with him the Priests of all Religions are the same.

Or the black Poison stain'd the sandy Floor—not to take notice of Mr. D's ignorance in Heathen Sacred Rites, Ver. 742. it's plain, he takes Iejunâ sanie— to signifie black Poison, and he's the first, and I hope, will be the last who understands it so.

And render their sweet Souls — Dulces Ani­mas — well Constru'd again!Ver. 744. These, doubt­less, were some of those well educated moral Calves, of whom, Mr. D. gave us so fine an account before.

And rugged are his Hairs — never was any thing more insipid, Ver. 752. than this Noble part of the III. Georgic, as Mr. D. has given it us; among the rest, he says, rugged are his Hairs. Virgil says, his skin grows hard; which is a very different thing. But it seems, this Di­stemper sublimes the brutal Nature of the Horse, so as he comes to groan with Manly moans; I suppose, he means moans of such Men as were Originated from Deucalion's Mother's Bowels, which I have shown before, must make 'em of a very soft temper.

Which timely taken ope'd his closing Iaws, Ver. 764▪ But if too late, the Patients death did cause. Vir­gil's sence is, that When this Pestilence first be­gan, a Drench of Wine prov'd very good for the sick Beast. But the Pest spreading the Disease [Page 192] was alter'd, and what had been Physick before, now became the grand incentives of the Di­stemper, adding fury to the inward flame; but he thought nothing of giving the Dose sooner or later, for that made no difference. I wish too, Mr. D. would give us some application of l 768, 9. Ye Gods to better Fate good Men dispose, And turn that impious Error on our Foes; I doubt not, but it will be very diverting.

Ver. 771. The Steer studious of Tillage, and the crooked Plough — this too must have come of those Calves of liberal Education, mention'd before.

Ver. 774. The Clown who cursing Providence repines — Must every one then who's sad, repine, and curse Providence? It becomes a Republican A­theist well enough, or one who has lost the Bays to do so; but Virgil's Farmers had better Man­ners.

Ver. 781. His Eyes are settled in a stupid Peace — A dull Nonsensical way of saying, — A heavy dulness hangs upon his Eyes.

Thus have I gone thro this III. Book, no­ting a few of almost numberless Faults in English, in sence, in his Authors meaning, and in pro­priety of Expression; and can't but wonder that any Man, who could not but he Conscious of his own unfitness for it, should go to amuze the learned World with such an undertaking. A Man ought to value his Reputation more than his Money, and not to hope, that those, who can read for themselves, will be impos'd upon, meerly by a Partially, and unseasonably celebrated Name.

BOOK IV. Of the GEORGICS.

THis again is one of Mr. D's labour'd Pieces, and which, he values himself upon, where, if I meet with fewer blunders, I shall be very glad for his, and for the Read­ers, and for my own sake; for I know but of one thing more Nauseous to a wise Man, than to find fault; and that is, to meet with any one who has so many to find. But to the Book it self.

Before the busie Shop — Mr. D. resembles the Bees-hive to as many things as the famous Preacher did Meditation. Ver. 26. Here in a few lines it's their Station, their City, their place of Trade, their Mansion, their Shop, and doubtless, it's resembl'd to many more things afterwards; but with such a Copia, as Virgil would have been no ways pleas'd with.

As the cold Congeals into a lump of liquid Gold — Who'd think this liquid Gold were meer Honey?Ver. 49. Or where's any Author whoever call'd it by that Name? Virgil's our Text, and it's best keeping to him.

The niceness of their Nose — false Grammar for Noses. Ver. 67. Such another incoherent verse is that, And doubled Images of voice rebound. Which, if any one can make sence of, with the precedent, or subsequent Lines, they'll oblige me.

The winged Nation wanders thro the Skies — This supposes Bees very high flyers, Ver. 73. which really they are not, and therefore, Virgil says no­thing like it.

[Page 194] Ver. 77.Drunk with secret Ioy — for Nescio quâ dulcedine laetae; and for Progeniem nidosque fovent, the Paraphrase is wonderful; Their young Succession all their cares imploy, They breed▪ they brood, Instruct and educate, And make Pro­vision for the future State. These Bees then are brought up at the same Academy, where the Calves were in the former Book under Tutor D—n, but I'm afraid, in the issue, they'll prove Anti-Republicans.

Ver. 87. Then Milfoil beat, and Hony-suckles pound— this is not Virgil's Recipe, and any Country Housewife could have taught him, that Balm and Hony-wort, are the proper Herbs to daub a Hive with, not the Ground to which you'll draw the Swarm; and so our Botanists interpret Melisphylla and Cerinthe. V. Raium de Plan. And mix with tinkling Brass the Cymbal's droning found — is a very singular way of speaking. Should these have been beaten and pounded too?

Ver. [...]90. Streight to their ancient Cells recall'd from air, The reconcil'd Deserters will repair — what a strange Idaea has the Translator of the ma­nagement of Bees? House-wives will tell him, they don't try to reduce the Swarms to the old, but to new Hives. The old stock turn 'em out for want of room, and they put 'em into new-Hives to increase 'em; so that I have known an old stock, in a kindly Year, throw out two good Swarms and a Cast, which makes 'em multiply apace, else the smothering of their Bees, which is easier than driving, would quickly ruin the Bee-Merchant.

[Page 195] With shouts, Ver. 98. the Cowards courage they excite — Here Mr. D. enlarges violently, and gives us a glorious Representation of the Bee-war, far beyond his Author; and yet methinks, Vir­gil talks very handsomly too; but he knew not any thing of the shouting of Bees, nor could he distinguish which of the Bees were Foot, which Horse, and which Dragoons, nor be­tween the Light Horse, and those heavy Arm'd; nor had he any notice of an Order of Knight­hood among 'em, and knew nothing of the Bannerets, these have been discoveries of later Ages; and Mr. D. has honour'd us with a very exact account of them. Thus too, he runs riot from ver. 122 to 130, and beyond his Au­thor's design, carries on the Fray till it's scarce worth while to part 'em. But if one only can reign — What will become of our new Republi­cans?

And like their grizly Prince appears his gloomy Race —As if all the rest of the Bees were bred by him, Ver. 145. which is much to his Honour — But, we may observe, Mr. D. here talks of the Lawful King, and some Usurper; Virgil makes that Lawful King meerly Elective at the will of the Bee-Master, whose Judgment interpo­sing quite beside any Right of Succession, makes a Lawful, when a good, and abdicates an ill-look'd, i. e. a bad King; I would not have Mr. D. misapply it, but it gives us a somewhat particular notion of Legal Royalty.

Qu. Whether Falx saligna, signifies a Lath-Sword?

[Page 196] Ver. 215. And tame to Plums the sourness of the Sloes — This is such a piece of Husbandry and Elegancy, and rises so naturally from Virgil's words, as may be justly admir'd, but is really inimitable; it's a way of meliorating Fruits, by Graffing beyond any Experiments of my Lord Bacon. Nor less valuable is that, Each has a certain home, a several stall; All is the States, the State provides for all. Ver. 228. Which sa­vours too much of Republicanism.

Ver. 232. Some o'er the Public Magazine preside— is a Thought so extreamly ridiculous, as none but Mr. D. could have stumbl'd on; nor could any but he, have dreamt of Bees making use of Narcissus leaves, in building of their Combs.

Ver. 238. Some nurse the future Nation of the Hive — Virgil says —Aliae, spem gentis, adultos Educunt foetus — This looks as if it had another mean­ing; but Ruaeus interprets it just as wisely as Mr. D. and both without any reason; when the true sence is, Some lead out and exercise the young Bees; i. e. that they may know how, and where to feed themselves, to work, and to gather Honey, and Wax against the time they're to set up for themselves. And this is proper to be done for the Foetus adulti, who are past Nur­sing, when call'd by that name; and every Body must know the difference between Edu­cere and Educare.

Ver. 239.Some Purge the Grout — I confess my ig­norance of what Mr. D. means by that Em­ployment; Virgil forgot it, and I have not Butler by me; but upon this, I find our Tran­slator [Page 197] fell fast asleep, and quite slipt those ad­mirable Lines. — Sunt, quibus ad Portas ceci­dit custodia sorti: Inque vicem speculantur aquas & nubila Coeli, Aut onera accipiunt venientum — What if they were thus Translated?

Some by their Lots before the Portal ply,
Some view the Clouds, and watch the chang­ing Sky,
Unload their weary'd Mates; and jointly strive

From lazy Drones to clear the thrifty Hive. But for the Bees being stung with Envy, and therefore, I suppose, working the harder, it's the Genuine Product of Mr. D's own Brain.

Subdu'd in Fire the Stubborn Metal liesVer. 247. is neither Poetical, nor proper English, nor tele­rable sence; nor does the Translator mend in those. — Huge flakes of flames expire, With Tongs they turn the Steel and vex it in the Fire. And when he tells us the Employment of the Elder Bees, he's as ridiculous as possible; but he's beyond measure exact in the Names of Plants and Flowers, which his Author men­tions; and those two, The hollow murmurs of their Evening Bells Dismiss the sleepy Swains, and toll 'em to their Cells —ver. 276. are Ori­ginals.

Their modest Appetites, is Grammar;Ver. 288. but Their Heroic Mind — Their strength, are false English; and to talk of their not using Woman­kind, is absurd; and the rage of Honey, ver. 299. is a Nonsensical Latinism.

[Page 198] Ver. 313. The King presides, &c. are all impertinent, and silly Excursions, an affectation of fine Thoughts without reason, and without any Countenance of his Author.

Ver. 326.And kindles as he goes—is what I can make no sence of; if it refer to God, here made the Soul of the World, He kindles, must be under­stood passively, for he is kindled, and what sence it will have then, I know not; if it re­fers to the several parts of the Creation, it must mean his influence kindles them in an active sence, which is an odd way of speaking, and would require a larger Commentary then I'm at lei­sure for; it may be, this Translation may ex­press Virgil's meaning more clearly.

Such wondrous Signs, and Instances of old
Made Men renown'd, for Sacred Wisdom, hold
That Bees were by Ethereal Fires enflam'd,
And Portions of th' eternal Essence claim'd.
God might thro all the parts of Nature move,
Thro Earth and Seas, and Heavens vast Orbs above;
Hence Flocks, Herds, Men, and all the Sa­vage Crew,
Their Lives from that Immortal Substance drew;
All when dissolv'd, to this return at last,
Not into nothings Inexistence cast;
But live the Life of Stars; are always bright,
And always beam'd with indefective Light.

Ver. 340.When their Quire surveys, The Scorpion mend his pace — such English as a Man would [Page 199] hardly look for, from a Master of our Lan­guage.

And break the Waxen Walls to save the StateVirgil says,Ver. 351. Take away the empty Combs to pre­vent Vermin harbouring in 'em. And here he pursues a Metaphor till it grows nauseous.

Or Wasps infest the Camp — Every Di­ctionary, Ver. 358. I believe, would have satisfied Mr. D. that Crabrones are Hornets, not Wasps.

These four lines, Ver. 363. in which, Virgil talks of the care of the Bees to recover their own ruines and losses, Mr. D. absurdly enough, ap­plies to the Bee-Masters; but he writes for the Ladies, not for use.

And shagged is their Hair — A singul [...]r Observation, Ver. 371. but which, the Farmer could scarcely have made without a Microscope; and I'm afraid that line, Their Friends attend the Hearse, the next Relations Mourn — is all Apo­cryphal, and as wide from truth and his Text, is the following line.

With such a Tempest thro the Skies they steer— is an absurd sence added to the Poet, Ver. 447. who makes them appear thick, as a stormy Shower in the Summer; but never thought of their dri­ving like a Tempest, which had been such an Idaea of their first rising, as would have been hist at by Augustus and Maecenas, and the Ro­man Ladies. And such a form the winged Squa­dron bear, is applicable to nothing which went before.

On Peneus banks he stood — is false measure;Ver. 453. it's not Pe-neus with two Syllables, but Pe-ne-us [Page 200] with three, and the penultima long, as any Poet would have show'd him.

Ver. 459. The third by him, and thee from Heavens high King — Who could imagine Mr. D. a Denizon of Parnassus, who could not find out the difference between two and three upon his Fingers? [...]. Il. 1. Apollo was the Son of Iupiter, by Latona, as Homer shows, Aristaeus was the Son of Apollo, by Clymene; therefore but the second from his Heavens high King; but, perhaps, he was thinking of — A Iove tertius Ajax, and fansy'd Aristaeus a Grecian Comman­der, which might bring his Thoughts to a dislocation.

Ver. 462. Why didst thou me, unhappy me, create? This, I doubt, is the first time that any Mother was said to have Created her Child; I hope Mr. D. may know some difference between Generati­on and Creation, or his Theology, and Philoso­phy, must run very low.

Ver. 482.And clad in party-colour'd Cloth — i. e. according to the high mode of our English La­dies; but it was the worst Fashion which could have been thought of, for those who liv'd under water, and could not get from their Lodgings but thro the Flood. Had Mr. D. here err'd with his Author, he had been excusable; but this was meer whimsie and in­defensible. Mr. D. it seems, was better ac­quainted with these Nymphs than his Author; and therefore has sixt Characters on them all, or else he took 'em from some, whose Names, if known, would doubtless, be very diverting.

[Page 201] But Are [...]husa leaping from her bed — is a very new thought, Ver. 498. nor could I have believ'd the Ladies lay spinning a bed, had not Mr. D. found it out; I think Knoting was not quite so ancient, or it had been a more agreeable business for such lazy Lasses.

His careless Mother — says Mr. D.Tua maxima cura — says Virgil;Ver. 504. both respecting the same Aristaeus.Upraiding Heaven from whence his Lineage came, And cruel calls the Gods — this addition both abuses Aristaeus, and Virgil.

Conduct him here — is false English, Ver. 510. for Conduct him hither. Qu. Whether — jubet —sig­nifies, She wav'd her hand on either side.

He hears the crackling sound of Coral Woods — is wild enough,Ver. 521. and from the Original distant enough; but why Coral Woods? Ruaeus thinks, Virgil meant only Weeds and Bul-rushes grow­ing in the bottoms of Rivers. And Mr. D. should have remember'd, he was here disco­vering a Rivers Head; now Coral is no growth of Rivers, but of the Sea, and there­fore, was by no means to have been mention­ed here.

And rub his Temples with fine Towels dry — is a very smooth verse;Ver. 542. but since he was wash'd all over, why were his Temples only rub'd dry? It's not intimated in —Tonsisque ferunt mantilia villis — There must be some Mystery in it, if a Man could but find it out.

Mr. D. talks of two Bowls, Ver. 547. and afterwards of this to the Ocean, this to the Nymphs, which is [Page 202] all stuff; in their Libations but one was us'd, and when one, the Principal, had sprinkl'd a few drops on the Altar or Table, and had drunk first, the same Bowl went from Hand to Hand, as may be seen in that Feast which Dido makes to Aeneas.

Ver. 551. She sprinkl'd thrice with Wine the Vestal Fire— is an intolerable Anachronism. Vesta here sig­nifies, the Fire it self, not the Fire as kept to the honour of that Goddess which was an Insti­tution of Numa Pompilius, as we learn both from Livy, and Plutarch.

Ver. 571.The wily Wizard — a very civil, and a very sensible Expression of him, whom he calls both a Prophet and a God before. For un­constrain'd he nothing tells for nought, Nor is with Prayers, or Bribes, or Flattery bought, is all Riddle, and past my understanding.

Ver. 595.Beware to strein his Fetters — is a fine new way of speaking, and worthy of the Inventor.

Ver. 599. With Nectar she her Son anoints — No, it was with Ambrosia, Virgil says, and there's as much difference between them, as between Meat and Drink, for neither of 'em are like true nappy Ale; which of our two Authors now should be chiefly credited? He breath'd of Hea­ven, and look above a Man; is bombastick im­pertinence, in which, it's certain, Mr. D. does not creep servilely after sence, a thing, which he condemn'd long since.

Ver. 605.If any Man or Woman can explain the meaning of those three Verses concerning the Cave of Proteus, where heaps of Billows driven [Page 203] by Wind and Tyde, In form of War their watry ranks divide, And there like Centries set (a ve­ry Poetical word) without the mouth abide — or can show me how they grow out of Virgil's — Quo plurima vento Cogitur, inque sinus scin­dit sese unda reductos, I shall own my self their most Humble Servant.

Her self involv'd in Clouds precipitates her flight — here Mr. D. very honestly contradicts his Author, Ver. 614. who tells us only, that She stood at a distance muffled in a Cloud, indeed, to see the event, which answer'd the Character of a tender Mother. That some Copies read re­cessit, is not to the purpose, and is refuted by the Sequel of the Story, where, Cyrene is at hand to chear up her Son daunted with Pro­teus's terrible tale. Mr. D. says indeed, She re­turn'd to comfort him, ver. 769. But Virgil says nothing of returning, nor was Cyrene so great a Goddess, as to have known her Son's condition in a trice, if she had not been near, as appears by her insensibility and slowness to hear him when he came crying, to tell her his misfortunes.

They rouling spirt the bitter Sea;Ver. 622. for Gens rorem dispersit amarum; the meanest Pedant in England, would have whipt a Lubber of Twelve for Construing so absurdly; what follows is of the same batch, Unweildily they wallow, first in Ooze, Then in the shady Covert seek repose. Whereas, Virgil says, The Sea Calves lay them­selves down on the shore; and Navigators say, they chuse the Sun to bask in when they sleep. The rest to 630, are meer Kim Kam.

[Page 204] Ver. 638. And wearies all his Miracles of Lyes — It seems then, they were Roman Miracles. Convinc'd of Conquest, for Convinc'd that he was conquer'd, is a very quaint Phrase.

Ver. 642.What madness could Provoke a mortal Man t' invade a sleeping God! Mr. D. tacks this to his Author, and with his usual Success; for Ari­staeus was a God too, tho a Shepherd, as his Father had been; he was as Honourably de­scended as Proteus himself, and invok'd as a God, by Virgil, in the beginning of his Georgics.

Ver. 645. Aristaeus's answer is in Virgil so apposite, and lively, in the Translation so dilute and insipid, that, it's intolerable to Compare 'em; but who would think that Aristaeus meant his Bees, by his perish'd People?

Ver. 663.Qu. Whether Ante Pedes, signifies, At her Heels?

Ver. 667. The Realms of Mars remurmur'd all around — What Realms were they?

Ver. 727.After abundance of extravagant additions to his Author, to show the Luxuriancy of his vanity, he adds, — He prays, he raves, all means in vain, he tries, With rage enflam'd, asto­nish'd with surprize, But she return'd no more to bless his longing Eyes —But, we must remember, it's Mr. D's Orpheus, not Virgil's, of whom, these things are said,

Ver. 735.In the leaky Sculler — i. e. I suppose, in Charon's lap; for the Boat is the Scull, the Waterman who rows, is the Sculler, as Mr. D. may learn every day at the Water-side.

[Page 205]Whoever pleases to read Virgil's Latine in this Similitude of the Nightingale, Ver. 742. with Mr. D's Version, will soon be sick of the latter, or else must have a very mean taste of Poetry.

Alone he tempts the Floods, Ver. 751. &c. Virgil, So­lus lustrabat — quam bene conveniunt!

On the glad Earth the Golden Age renews, Ver. 814. And his great Fathers path to Heaven pursues. This is one of Mr. D's Interpolations, and what it means, is not very plain. If by Augustus's Father, he means Iulius Caesar, his History's but indifferent; and no body ever pass'd that complement on Iulius Caesar, That he had re­stor'd the Golden Age, or had much cultivated the Arts of Peace. Octavius did so indeed, but that was not pursuing his Father's way; in short, Mr. D. abuses 'em both, by affixing in­consistent Characters on them, and his Author, by presuming to teach him how to Court his Patrons.

THus, Sir, at your Desire, I have gone thro' the Eclogues and Georgics, as Tran­slated by Mr. D. and have been sufficiently weary'd with the Task; I won't pretend to have been infallible in all my Observations, but as I think, I have rarely charg'd him where he was not guilty; so I can easily satisfie him, or you, that I let many pass, only, because they were too thick; and none can pass a Rational Censure on them, who reads not Virgil's Ori­ginal, [Page 206] and Mr. D's. and these Remarks toge­ther. The Aeneids I design not to meddle with, at present, tho the Faults in them, are innumerable, and such as convince me, that Mr. D. either did not, or would not understand his Author. After all, I'm not the Translator's enemy, but a Lover of Virgil for whom, if by showing the Errors of this Translation, I could procure an accurate one, I should think this time well spent. I cannot bear to see the best Poets, either Sacred or Profane, Burlesqu'd, or abus'd; and it's no ill Nature, but Zeal for their Honour, which makes me turn Critic; and I must thank Mr. D. that his Mistakes, have given me an opportuntiy to dive farther into Virgil's meaning, and to admire his beau­ties more than I had ever done before. If I have turn'd Mr. D's harsh words sometimes upon himself, he may remember, that besides his Brother Poets, he never spar'd a Clergy-Man, which perhaps, might make the Hands the rougher of

Your Humble Servant.

The I. Book of Virgil's Georgics made English.

WHat makes the richest Tilth, beneath what Signs
To Plough, and when to match your Elms and Vines?
[Page 207]What care with Flocks and what with Herds agrees,
And all the management of frugal Bees,
I sing Maecenas! Ye immensely clear,
Vast Orbs of Light which guide the rolling Year;
Bacchus, and Mother Ceres, if by you
We fatning Corn for hungry Mast pursue,
If taught by you, we first the cluster prest,
And thin cold streams with spritely juice refresht.10
Ye Fawns the present Numens of the Field,
Wood Nymphs and Fawns, your kind assistance yield,
Your gifts I sing! And thou, at whose fear'd stroke
From rending Earth the fiery Courser broke,
Great Neptune, O assist my artful Song!
And thou to whom the Woods and Groves belong,
Whose Snowy Heifers on her flowry Plains
In mighty Herds the Caean Isle maintains!
Pan, happy Shepherd, if thy cares Divine,
E'er to improve thy Moenalus incline; 20
Leave thy Lycaean Wood and Native Grove,
And with thy lucky smiles our work approve!
Be Pallas too, sweet Oils Inventor, kind;
And he, who first the crooked Plough design'd!
Sylvanus, God of all the Woods appear,
whose Hands a new drawn tender Cypress bear!
Ye Gods and Goddesses who e'er with Love,
Would guard our Pastures, and our Fields im­prove!
[Page 208]You, who new Plants from unsown Lands supply;
30 And with condensing Clouds obscure the Sky,
And drop 'em softly thence in fruitfull Showers,
Assist my Enterprize, ye gentler Powers!
And thou great Caesar! Tho we know not yet
Among what Gods thou'lt fix thy lofty Seat,
VVhether thou'lt be the kind Tutelar God
Of thy own Rome; or with thy awfull nod,
Guide the vast VVorld, while thy great Hand shall bear,
The Fruits and Seasons of the turning Year,
And thy bright Brows thy Mother's Myrtles wear:
40 Whether thou'lt all the boundless Ocean sway,
And Sea-men only to thy self shall pray,
Thule, the Farthest Island kneel to thee,
And, that thou may'st her Son by Marriage be,
Tethys will for the happy Purchase yield
To make a Dowry of her watry Field;
Whether thou'lt add to Heaven a brighter Sign,
And o'er the Summer Months serenely shine;
VVhere between Cancer and Erigone,
There yet remains a spacious Room for thee.
50 Where the hot Scorpion too his Arms declines,
And more to thee than half his Arch resigns;
VVhat e'er thou'lt be; for sure the Realms below
No just pretence to thy Command can show:
No such Ambition sways thy vast desires,
Tho Greece her own Elysian Fields admires.
[Page 209]And now at last, contented Proserpine
Can all her Mother's earnest Prayers decline.
What e'er thou'lt be, O, guide our gentle course,
And with thy smiles our bold attempts en­force;
With me th' unknowing Rustics wants relieve,60
And tho on Earth our sacred vows receive!
In early Spring, when first the melting Snow
Begins from Mountains hoary tops to flow,
And western Gales dissolve the Frozen Soil,
Then let my Bullocks first begin their toil.
Groan at the weighty Plough, and make the Share
VVith constant work a chearful brightness wear!
That Soil must gratifie the greediest Swains,
VVhich Summer twice, and Winter twice su­stains.
Ground turn'd so much, with heavy Crops 70 defies
Barns narrow walls, and in huge Stacks must rise.
But e'er the Plough a Field unpractis'd tries,
First let's observe, beneath what VVinds it lies,
VVhat Air it's in, hot, dry, or moist, or cold,
It's former Crops, and how Manur'd of old;
VVhat Fruit the Land will bear, and what re­fuse,
Some better Grain, some nobler Vines pro­duce;
Some are for Fruits, and native Pastures best:
Hence T'molus is with fragrant Saffron blest.
[Page 210] 80 India with Ivory, the VVorld supplies,
VVhich Incense from the soft Sabaean buys,
In Steel for Trade the hot Sinopian toils;
And Pontus sells the faetid Beavers spoils;
Epirus is for fleetest Mares renown'd,
Oft with the fam'd Olympic Garlands crown'd.
Nature of old these lasting Sanctions made,
And certain Tasks on certain Countries laid,
E'er since Deucalion stones behind him threw,
And made Man's stubborn Race the VVorld re­new.
90 Go to then streight, and at the Years first Hand,
Let sturdy Oxen turn the fruitfull Land;
And let the dusty Summers Sun digest
The sloping Turf with inward fatness blest.
But if the Soil be poor when Charles's Wain
In Autumn rises, let the wary Swain
The Land with shallow Furrows sleightly Plow
Here left a Crop of baneful Weeds should grow,
And choke the Corn, there lest the moisture drein'd,
A scorching Drought should burn the barren 100 Sand.
Sometimes a new reap'd Field recovers best
When left unplow'd each other Year to rest;
Else, when the Sign is chang'd sow Broad-Corn there,
Where Pulse had flourish'd the preceding Year,
Where the thin Vetch, and bitter Lupines grew,
The stalks Plow'd in the mellow'd Soil re­new.
[Page 211]So oft the Noblest Crops of Wheat we find,
Where those dry Husks stood rattling in the wind.
But hungry Flax, and Oats exhaust the Field,
And Poppies, which forgetful Slumbers yield.110
Yet still that cure's the easiest, and the best,
To leave the Ground each other Year at rest.
Rich fatning Dung on Glebe half spent be­stow,
And Mossy Lands with Sooty Ashes sow.
It's oft prov'd good the barren Fields to fire,
Where Haum and Leaves, and crackling Flames conspire;
Whether their inward warmth the ground relieves,
And fatning Food, and secret vigour gives;
Or flames against the barren parts prevail,
And off the useless moisture quite exhale;
Or finds new ways, and clears exhausted Pores,120
And freer Sap to springing Plants restores;
Or bakes the Glebe▪ and stops it's gaping Veins
Against th' untimely flows of soaking Rains;
Or to secure it from the fierce extreams
Of Winters cold, or Summers furious Beams.
He too improves his new laid Lands who breaks
The tough unbearing Clods with sturdy Rakes,
Then lays 'em smooth with weighty twisted Thorns.
Kind Ceres too, his pains with wealth adorns,
Who, where the Leys are low, cross Plows the Lands,130
And stirs 'em oft, and every Clod commands.
[Page 212]Such careful Tillage makes the Mysians boast,
Their wondrous Crops, when on the Phrygian Coast,
Fair Ida her astonish'd Brows can raise,
When she the monstrous growth beneath sur­veys.
I'll pass those by, who, when they're new­ly sown,
Streight Harrow all the crumbling Ridges down;
Then all the Plains from Neighbouring Rivers flow,
When all for want of moisture languid grow.
140 Or from some higher Grounds by gentle dreins,
Draw down embody'd Waters o'er the Plains;
Which o'er the Stones their chiding mur­murs yield,
And cool the thirst of all the neighbouring Field.
What should I mention those who, when the blade
Makes all the Leys diffuse an even shade,
Lest too too weighty Ears the stalk should crown,
Let in their Sheep and feed the rankness down.
Or when the glutted Fields have drunk at large,
With double Plows th' excessive wets dis­charge;
150 Chiefly in Vernal Months, when every Flood
Breaks o'er it's Banks, and spreads the Fields with mud;
[Page 213]And every swamp a standing Water shews,
And moisture warm, and noxious vapour spues.
Thus' when the busie Men and Oxen toil
To turn, and manage, and improve the Soil.
Sometimes th' improving Soil, of hurt com­plains,
By greedy Wild-Geese, and destructive Cranes,
And from wild Chichory, whose noxious shade,
And bitter Roots the forward Crops invade.
Great Iove himself first clog'd our Lives with 160 Pains,
Taught Tillage, and repaid our Art with gains.
He whetted Humane Wits with studious care;
Nor would his Reign a lazy temper bear;
Before his Government no careful Swains
Plow'd up the Field, or measur'd o'er the Plains,
No Balks, no Mounds the proper Owners show'd,
But all in Common, Golden Plenty flow'd.
What from unwounded Earth by Nature sprung
Into their Arms a blest abundance flung.
Iove made the gloomy Serpents poisonous grow,
Wolves ravenous, and Storms at Sea to blow.170
No more the sweets from dropping Branches flow'd,
No more the flames at wholsom distance glow'd,
[Page 214]No Rivers now with native Nectar swell'd,
But all their Lives by sleights and practice held.
For new Inventions now their thoughts they strein'd,
And Art by slow degrees perfection gain'd.
He made them get their Bread with restless pains,
Amd force their fire from flints obscurer veins.
Then hollow'd Trees the Rivers wondring bore,
180 And Sea-men first presum'd to quit the shore,
The Stars in various Constellations threw,
And all their names, and all their numbers knew.
And could fit times for Voyages declare
From Pleiad's, Hyad's, and the Northern Bear.
Bird-lime and Springes, then for Birds were found.
And Hounds to draw the spacious Forests round.
With jagged Spears the largest Brooks they try'd,
And let long Nets drive down the briny Tide.
Beside the Wedge, they'd thro the Timber draw
190 The well edg'd Ax, and plated ringing Saw.
Then various Arts in various ways appear'd
And want extream, which nothing sharper fear'd,
With indefatigable pains renew'd,
Forc'd every bar, and every stop subdu'd.
[Page 215]When common Trees, and sacred Groves deny'd
Their Mast, and Iove's blest Oaks no more supply'd.
Kind Ceres first the Share and Coulter show'd,
And Men by her Divine Instruction Plow'd.
Yet troubles soon attack'd their labours there,
And Blite, and Mill-Dew blackt the weightless 200 Ear.
Now the wild Teazle starves our hopeful Fields,
Thistles and Thorns, the richest surface yields.
And where a Golden Crop had rarely fail'd,
There Darnel soon, and barren Oats prevail'd.
And now, unless with restless Rakes and Hoes,
You Brakes and Briars, and springing Weeds oppose,
Shout off the Birds, and lop the shady rows,
Till the free Air thro every quarter flows,
And beg, and pray for seasonable Rain,
You'll look on others rising Stacks in vain; 210
In vain you'll envy their Industrious Care,
And must to Woods again for wretched Mast repair.
Now will we teach the Tools which Far­mers need
When e'er they'd House their Crops, or sowe their Seed;
A Plough-Share, Coulter, and a weighty Beam,
A slow-paced Cart, and Gears to fix the Team,
Such Ceres kind, once taught her Host to make,
The Sledge, the Tumbrel, and the weighty Rake.
[Page 216]And if you'd be for Husbandry renown'd,
220 Tools yet more mean must in your Yards be found,
Implements of the pliant Osier made,
Sieves, Riddles, Fans with turning Canvas made,
Or on the Knees of toyling Threshers play'd.
Now search the Woods some crooked Elm to find,
Or for a Plough-Beam force it to your mind,
Give it Eight Foot in length, and double Ears
Of Iron tooth'd, to fix the toiling Steers.
Then some fair Beech, or Teil in season fell,
Which for a lightsome Yoke, and Staff excell.
230 And for a Plough-Stail take a smoke-dry'd Oak,
To check the Wheels, and guide the Coulters stroke.
Here, could I many ancient Rules declare,
Unless you scorn the Countries meaner care.
To make your Barn a solid Floor assume,
Forge Dust and common Earth, and binding Loom,
Temper and mix 'em well, till firmer grown,
You roll 'em level with a pondrous Stone.
Then won't it crumble, nor the creeping weed,
Nor other Pests of Corn about it breed;
240 Else Mice in it, and Rats will build their Nests,
And plenty fill the little progging Beasts.
There dark Ey'd Moles will cast, and loath­some Toads
Lurk in their holes, and Vermin swarm by loads.
Weevils the largest heaps of Grain infest,
And Ants with fears of future wants possest.
[Page 217]Then watch the time when budding Almonds show,
And tender Twigs with fragrant Blossoms bow.
If thick the Fruit, and thin the Leaves appear,
'Twill prove a sultry, but a plenteous Year;
But if the Leaves above the Fruit abound,250
The Sheaves will be but lank, and empty found.
I've seen the subtle Farmer, wisely sure,
His Seed with Lees of Oil, and Nitre cure:
That Art your Seed in weight and bulk improves,
And all the Vermin of the Field removes;
But when it's nicely cull'd, and plump, and fair,
And steep'd, and warm'd with all his utmost care.
'Twill soon degenerate, till with Art renew'd,
Cull'd o'er, and still with double care pursu'd.
Thus all things suffer in their fatal course,260
Change every day, and every day grow worse.
So when a Man with restless toils and pains,
Rows up the Stream, and ground but slowly gains;
If he but slacks his Arms a while, he's gone,
And in the rapid Stream is hurry'd head-long down.
Besides, the Farmer with a curious Eye,
Should watch the various motions of the Sky;
On Charles's Wain his Observations make,
And on the rising Kids, and glittering Snake,
As those who venture on a stormy Sea,270
And near Abydos take their dangerous way.
[Page 218]When Libra balances the Day with Night,
And parts the Globe with equal shades and light,
Then Yoke your Oxen, Swains, your Barly sow,
Till Winter's cold extream, and churlish grow.
Then Harrow in your Flax and Poppy-seed,
And ply your busie Ploughs with early speed.
Sow Beans in Spring, and in a mellow Soil,
Clover and Millet ask your Annual toil.
When first bright Taurus's Golden Horns ap­pear,
280
And setting Sirius, shows the rising Year.
But if with Ryes and Wheats, you'll sow the Field,
And none but Grains which solid substance yield.
First let the Pleiades a Mornings set,
And the bright Crown before the Sun retreat
Before you sow, or trust the Field Manur'd,
With all those hopes your yearly toils ensur'd.
Some can't indeed, for the right season stay,
Whose greedy hopes as wretched Crops repay.
But if you'd common Tares or Vetches sow,
290 Or any pains on Egypts Pulse bestow,
Bootes set the proper season shows,
And the wise Swain from thence, to middle▪ Winter sows.
The Times and Seasons that we thus might know,
The Sphere by certain Lines is parted so,
That thro' Twelve Heavenly Signs the Golden Sun
Might Yearly with commanding Influence run.
[Page 219]Five Climates the superiour Skies divide,
One with eternal heats and scorchings fry'd,
From which the two extreams on either Hand,300
Horrid with Ice, and gloomy Tempests stand.
The Two between Ioves condescending Grace
Made Habitable for our Mortal Race;
Thro' them the Zodiack cuts its Oblique way,
Whence Twelve bright Signs the lower World survey.
And since to us the Scythian Mountains rise,
Beneath our feet the Southern Circle lies;
O'er us the Freezing Constellations roll,
And our Horizon views the Northern Pole.
The Southern sinks to those dark deeps below 310
Where Ghosts reside and Stygian waters flow.
O'er us the monstrous winding Serpent glides,
And like some Flood the neighbouring Bears divides.
The Bears by jealous Iuno's fury scar'd,
And from the cooling Oceans waves debar'd.
Some think there Reigns impenetrable Night,
And Clouds repell the smallest Gleams of light.
Or that with us when chearful Light decays,
There Phosphorus his Morning Beams dis­plays;
And the gay Sun's hot Car that Hemisphere 320 surveys.
Hence, we before the various seasons know,
And when to Reap the Fields, and when to Sow.
When with our nimble Boats at Sea to ply,
Where Warlike Fleets with Canvas Wings may fly,
When Timber may be kindly fell'd, and be
From Sap, and penetrating Vermin free.
[Page 220]Nor do we watch the moving Signs in vain
How they alike thro all the Quarters Reign.
When Frost and Storm the busie Swain con­fines,
330 He then at leisure various Works designs;
At leisure ends, which in a clearer Sky
He'd hurry o'er, or too confus'dly ply.
One Plates anew, or files his blunted Shares,
Or for his Cattel hollow Troughs prepares,
Brands them, or Figures out his Sacks for Corn,
Another sharpens Stakes, or Forks if worn;
Makes ready Twigs with which his Vines he binds,
Or nimble Skeps with pliant Osiers winds.
Then's time to grind your Corn, your Batch to bake;
340 Some Liberties on Holy-days we take;
Some work, all Laws of Gods and Men permit
On those great Days; no wise Religion yet
Forbad the Boor his flooded Fields to drein,
Or mend his Fences to secure his Grain.
To burn the Thorns, or greedy Birds t' allure,
Or sickly Sheep in wholsom Streams to cure.
Oft too he drives his slow-pac'd Ass to Town
With Oil, or mellow Apples loaded down;
Which, there he trucks for necessary things,
350 And Pitch, and Rosin home, and Mill-stones brings.
The Silver Moon too with her powerful Rays
Marks out th' unlucky, and auspicious Days,
On her Fifth Day ne'er stir the Fruitful Earth,
Then Hell and Hellish Furies took their Birth.
[Page 221]On that curst Day Earth with a hideous roar
Caeus, Briareus, and Typhoeus bore.
At Heavens bright Realms the Brother mon­sters flew,
And Ossa thrice on staggering Pelion threw,
Thrice huge Olympus from the Centre torn,
Was to the top of groaning Ossa born.360
Thrice angry Iove impetuous Lightnings hurl'd,
Rush'd down the three-pil'd Hills, and save the Starry World.
Next to the Tenth the Seventh's a Lucky Day,
To prove your Bullocks, and your Vines to lay;
Or warp your Pieces; on the Ninth you'll be
Safe in your Journeys, and from Padders free.
Some Business in the Night may best be done,
Or e'er the Dawn leads up the rising Sun.
Night's best to Cut your Haum, your Meads to Mow,
While to the Scythe the dewy Vapours flow.370
I'th' Chimney Corner one a Winter Nights
Makes Matches, while his Wife with Songs delights
His Ears, and makes the chearful hours con­sume,
Or with her nimble Shuttle plies the Loom.
Else he boils up his Must with gentle Fire,
And makes superfluous Particles retire;
And ever as the rising scum appears,
He with a Bough the foaming Copper clears.
But Mid-days heat best reaps the burden'd Fields,
And Mid-days heat the fairest Flooring yields.380
[Page 222]Sow then, and Plow when the kind season's warm,
And tho you strip to work you'll catch no harm.
But he some Rest in lazy Winter gains,
And reaps the Fruits of all his former pains.
From House to House the jolly Farmers feast,
With easie Thoughts, and honest plenty blest.
As Sea-men when their Ships have made their Port,
Put out their Wast-cloaths and dissolve in sport.
Yet then beat Acorns down, your Olives clear,
390 Get what your Bays, and Purple Myrtles bear.
When Earth lies cover'd o'er with driving Snow,
And Rivers scarce beneath their Ice can flow.
The Swain for greedy Cranes his Springes sets,
And for the Stag extends his Toils and Nets;
Or traces to their Fourms the listning Hares,
Or else his Balearian sling prepares.
With mighty force he whirls it round his Head,
And strikes the game with glowing Bullets dead.
What should I sing, what Constellations Reign,
400 What Storms in Autumn sweep along the Plain?
The Farmers work when days in length decline
And Summer Beams with fainter Furies shine,
Or when wet Spring rolls hurrying towards an end,
And bearded Ears o'er all the Fields ascend,
And Milky Grains the swelling Husks extend?
Oft have I seen the gathering Vapours jarr,
And full grown Winds commence a fatal War,
[Page 223]Then when the Reapers ply'd the Golden Field,
And Mowers made the crackling Barlies yield.
I've seen the storm tear up the standing Corn,410
The weighty heaps on rapid Whirl-winds born,
And Stalks, and Ears like horrid Tempests fly,
Spread far and wide, and darken all the Sky.
Oft have I seen prodigious Spouts ascend,
And gathering Clouds their heavy Wings ex­tend,
Till Heaven all black with gloomy Tempests grown,
Seas thro the Air at once rusht tumbling down,
Drench'd all the chearful Harvest, drown'd the Field,
The slimy Dikes, and low sunk Rivers fill'd,
Till the swell'd Waters o'er their Bounders flow'd,
And Seas, enrag'd with foaming Whirl-winds glow'd.
Nay, Iove himself, in that unnatural Night
With ruddy Bolts enhaunc'd the dismal fright.
Shock'd the wide World, with hideous Thun­ders roar,
Till Savage Forests Herds could bear no more,
In Humane hearts dejecting Terrors reign'd,
While he stern Lightnings with a fatal Hand
At Rhodope, and lofty Athos hurl'd,
And flames around the glowing Mountains whirl'd;
And pouring Rains and Storms embodied more,
Made the Woods reel, and dash'd the founding shore.430
For fear of this, observe the Months and Signs,
Which way old Saturn's frigid Orb inclines,
[Page 224]See in what secret Roads bright Mercury,
Northward or Southward wanders thro the Sky.
But above all, the bounteous Gods adore
Thy Tilth once past, of all thy Yearly store
A chearful Sacrifice to Ceres bring,
When sinking Winter greets the rising Spring,
When fatted Calves, and racy Wines delight,
440 And shady Hills to wholsom sleeps invite,
Then let the merry Youth to Ceres bow,
And with thy self, to her their service vow.
New Wines with Milk and Honey Sacrifice,
And let your Prayers before her Altars rise.
Lead then the Consecrated Heifer round,
Thrice let her trace the pious Farmer's Ground.
Let all the jolly Lads her steps attend,
And that she may with happy smiles descend.
To humble Cells let all the Jovial Crew
450 The Goddess with her loudest Prayers pursue,
Nor let the Sickle touch the ripen'd Corn
Till all the Swains with Oaken Wreaths adorn
Their chearful Brows, and in an Antick Dance,
Her mighty Name with sacred Hymns advance.
And, that we might by certain Signs descry
Heats, Rains, and e'ry Wind which rakes the Sky.
Great Iove himself, the changing Moons de­creed,
To show what Weather every Month should breed,
What Signs rais'd Southern storms, and when the Swain
460 Should near their Stalls his grazing Herds retain.
When Storms are brewing from an unseen cause,
A Billow breaks at Sea with mighty flaws.
[Page 225]The lofty Hills with crackling noises sound,
And rising Murmurs roll the Forests round,
And hollow groans from distant Cliffs re­bound.
The Ship may then expect an angry Sky,
When off from Sea the Gulls directly fly,
And with a suddain Clamour stretch to shore,
And Fen-ducks wanton all the Meadows o'er;
Or when the Hern his watry haunt forsakes,470
And o'er some Cloud his Airy Passage makes.
Oft you may see before a Storm can rise
Bright Star-like Meteors shoot along the Skies,
And where they pass thro shades of darksome Night,
A glittering Tract drawn out of Silver light.
See Chaff, or Leaves as nimbly whisking round,
And stillest Lakes with floating Feathers crown'd.
But if a Northern dreadful Tempest roars,
Or East, or Western Gusts assault the Shores;
High Flouds o'er all the Country Banks prevail,480
The cautious Sea-Man furls the dripping Sail.
Nor yet can sudden Flaws the Swain surprize,
Who reads Prognostics with attentive Eyes;
If he'll observe the soaring Crane aspire,
And from the Vale, before the Storm, retire.
He'll oft the Bullocks spacious Nostrils find
Toss'd toward the Skys, and snuffing up the Wind.
He'll see the pratling Swallow skim the Lake,
Or croaking Frogs their old complainings make;
The busie Ants their ancient Lodgments fly,490
Drag out their Eggs, and narrow Tracts apply.
[Page 226]Vast Bows suck up the Rain, and noisy Crows
Scar'd early home, a threatning Change disclose.
The Fowls which haunt the Seas, and those which near
Ca [...]ster's Banks and Marshy Pools appear,
Dip down their Heads, and toss the wavy Dew
High o'er their Shoulders, and their Mates pursue.
Run back and forward, and with Gesture gay
Wash wildly, and along the Waters play.
500 The boding Coughs aloud the Rains implore,
And stately stalk along the Sandy shore.
Thus too, the merry Maids who Nightly spin
Their carded Wools, can see the change begin,
While from their Lamps the glittering sparkles rise,
And round the Wick a sooty Capping lies.
By Signs as sure, the cunning Swain descrys
Fair Weather breaking thro the louring Skys.
Then all the Stars shoot out with brisker gleams,
And the bright Moon returns her Brother's Beams
510 With sharper Horns; no fleecy Clouds appear
Aloft, no Halcyons, to the Ocean dear,
Bask with their open Wings along the shore,
And nasty Swine their Litter toss no more;
But Foggs descend, and belly toward the Plain,
And when the Sun sinks down beneath the Main,
From some lone Turrets melancholic height
Owles hallow shrilly thro the silent Night.
The royal Hobby cuts the liquid Air,
And the poor Lark still rues the Purple hair;
[Page 227]Where e'er the wretched Lark for shelter flies,
Her cruel Sire pursues her thro' the Skies,520
Where e'er the cruel Hobby cuts the Skies,
Away the trembling Lark for shelter flies▪
Then oft the Raven with a hollow noise
More deep than usual, streins his croaking voice
They meet in Flocks with uncouth blithness gay,
Hop thro the fluttering Leaves, and loosly play,
And to their dear lov'd Nests, and young at last
Return before the driving Storms are past.
Not that I think they're blest with Nobler Sense,530
Or know more nicely what the Fates dispense.
But when the Weather, and the various Air
Their tempers change, and what before was rare,
Condens'd appears beneath a Cloudy Sky,
Or Dense grows rarer when the Season's dry;
They with the changing Weather change their Sense,
And flying Clouds their Bosoms influence.
Hence thro the Fields we hear the chearful Quire,
The joyous Ravens croakes, the Cattels freaks admire.
If from the rapid Sun your Rules you'll take,
Or from the Moons sequacious Circles make; 540
To morrows Grey will ne'er delude your sight,
Nor the false Calmness of the sliding Night.
When first the Moon's declining Beams renew,
If then her Horns obscure, and gloomy shew,
Thick weighty Clouds are gathering in the Wind,
And all's to wet by Sea and Land inclin'd.
[Page 228]But if her Cheeks a Virgin blush diffuse,
Winds, stormy Winds the blushing Moon fore­shews.
550 If four days old she brightly mounts the Skies,
The Farmer thence unfailing Signs descrys.
If bright and sharp her Silver Horns appear,
That, and the following Days will all be clear.
No Winds, no heavy Rains will clog the Sky,
But the expiring Months serenely die.
Then Sailors safe a shore, their Vows shall pay,
And Offerings on the sacred Altars lay,
To Panope their grateful Sacrifice,
To Glaucus and to kind Palaemon rise.
560 Observe the Sun too, watch his rising Signs,
And how he toward his watry Couch declines.
The Sun's Prognostics all are plain and clear,
Both when he mounts, and when the Stars ap­pear;
If with a spotted Limb he climbs the Skies,
Or Masques in Clouds, or half his Beams denies,
Then look for Showers and for a Southern wind,
To Plants and Herds a moist unwholsom kind.
If when he rises first his languid Beams
Break thro the gather'd Clouds with watry Gleams.
570 Or if the Morning leaves her Saffron Bed,
Her faded Cheeks with deadly paleness spread,
What ratling storms of Hail their looks attend?
What Leaves can then their tender Grapes de­fend?
Your Observations yet are surer far
When down Heavens steep he drives his burn­ing Carr;
[Page 229]His Brows oft change then with a various hue,
And Winds his Red, and Rains his Black pursue.
If gloomy spots mix with his ruddy Flame,
All mighty Winds, and mighty Rains proclaim.
With such a Sky I'd never quit the shore,580
Be drill'd to Sea, or once my Boat unmoore.
But if his Rise unclouded Beams display,
And with unclouded Beams he close the Day,
Fear neither Rains nor Winds, the North then moves,
Drives off the Clouds, and rustles thro the Groves
In short, the Farmer by the Sun may know
Whence Clouds will rise, or gentle Gales will blow,
What Storms the Watry South designs to bring,
What Weather from the falling Night may spring,590
For who'd with false Prognostics charge the Sun?
He warns us oft of Mischiefs scarce begun;
Foreshows blind Insurrections, unfledg'd Iarrs,
Fermenting Treacheries, and brooding Wars.
He pity'd Rome when murder'd Caesar dy'd,
And to the World his chearful Beams deny'd,
Behind a gloomy Scurf obscur'd his light,
And Godless Men fear'd an Eternal Night.
'Twas then the Time when Seas, and Air, and Earth,
Contriv'd to give prodigious Monsters birth.600
Dark Heaven on that Inhumane Action scowl'd,
And Dogs obscoene in every Quarter howl'd;
Ill-boding Schriech-Owls with their ominous Notes,
Scream'd thro the Day, and stretch'd their fate­full Throats.
[Page 230]Hot Aetna burst his fiery bounds below,
And made Sicilia's Fields with Sulphur glow,
Made melted Rocks in livid Torrents roll,
And shot vast fiery Globes against the Pole.
Th' affrighted Germans heard the dismal sound
Of clanking Arms which march'd the Welkin round.
610 The Snowy Alps with uncouth tremblings reel'd,
And silent Groves prodigious voices fill'd.
Pale meager Ghosts broke from the rending Tomb,
And glaring, stalkt thro Nights obscurer gloom.
Brutes (horrid strange!) with Humane Lan­guage spoke,
And staggering Earth her shattered Surface broke.
Swift Brooks a passage to their Streams deny'd,
And quite forgot the Seas attending Tide;
Big with their Tears the sacred Marbles stood,
And sweating Statues dropt a Sanguine Flood.
620 Po, Prince of Streams, with uncouth madness swell'd,
Bore down the Groves, and Forests headlong fell'd,
At once drown'd all the Fields, and Herds and Stalls,
Hurry'd with violent fury to his dreadfull falls.
Beasts Livers all with boding Lines were Vein'd,
And bloody Springs their Streams with Gore distain'd.
Th' unpeopled Streets were fill'd with hideous sounds,
And howling Wolves there took their Mid­night rounds.
Lightnings n'ere shot so thick from Cloudless Skies,
Nor such portentous Comets plagu'd our Eyes
[Page 231] Philippi then a griev'd Spectator stood,630
And saw her Fields o'erflow'd with streams of Blood.
While Roman Troops in War with Romans clos'd,
And Friends their Friends with equal Arms oppos'd▪
Heaven angry, thought it worth it's while once more
T' enrich the barren soils with Roman Gore▪
To glut the wide Pharsalian Fields around,
And the large Plains by lofty Haemus crown'd.
The time shall come, when as the toiling Swains
With crooked Plows shall furrow up the Plains▪
They'll find our Spears with eating Rust con­sum'd,640
And hollow Helmets long in Earth inhum'd,
And Pigmy Heirs shall with amazement see
The mighty Bones of their Gigantic Ancestry.
Ye kindred Gods who o'er great Rome preside,
Quirinus too to all the Gods ally'd!
And Mother Vesta, whose protecting Hand
Makes Tiber flow, and Rome triumphant stand.
O let this one, this gallant Youth remain,
And the vast ruines of the World sustain!
Enough of Blood for Perjuries we've paid 650
To Woes by false Laomedon betray'd.
To us the Gods, Great Caesar! envy thee,
And all thy Triumphs here with Envy see▪
They grudge to see a wretched Age, opprest
With Lawless Guilt, by such a Guardian blest.
For all our lower World's involv'd in Blood,
And horrid Sins with impious Art pursu'd▪
The Plough lies rusting by, the Soldiers scorn,
The Fields uncultivated, wild, forlorn.
New Swords of Scyth's, the Martial Farmers make,660
And arm'd, their desolated Lands forsake.
[Page 232] Euphrates sounds with marching Troops from far,
And nearer Germany renews the War.
All Leagues are broke, and Civil Wars divide
Cities by all the nearest Bonds ally'd.
We see this All in dire confusions hurl'd,
And Tyrant Mars rage thro an Impious World.
The fiery Coursers rushing from the Stand
Fly out, and scorn the Charloteers command.
In vain he draws the Bit, along the Plains
The head-strong Horses scour, and scorn the sounding Reins.
FINIS.

ERRATA.

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Many more Errors in the Pointing, the Reader will observe, and Correct himself.

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