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brought it there to bear as happily as the cherry-trees which Lucullus brought from Pontus.

Our own nation has produced a third Poet in this kind, not inferior to the two former. For the Shepherd's Calendar of Spenfer is not to be matched in any modern language. Not even by Taffo's Amyntas, which infinitely transcends Guarini's Paftor Fido, as having more of nature in it, and being almost wholly clear from the wretched affectation of learning. I will fay nothing of the Piscatory Eclogues, because no modern Latin can bear criticism. It is no wonder that rolling down through so many barbarous ages, from the fpring of Virgil, it bears along with it the filth and ordure of the Goths and Vandals. Neither will I mention Monfieur Fontenelle, the living glory of the French. It is enough for him to have excelled his mafter Lucian, without attempting to compare our miferable age with that of Virgil, or Theocritus. Let me only add, for his reputation,

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"Defendi poffent, etiam hâc defenfa fuiffent."

But Spenfer being mafter of our northern dialect, and skilled in Chaucer's English, has fo exactly imitated the Doric of Theocritus, that his love is a perfect image of that paffion which God infufed into both fexes, before it was corrupted with the knowledge of arts, and the ceremonies of what we call good man

ners.

My lord, I know to whom I dedicate and could not have been induced by any motive to put this part

of

of Virgil, or any other into unlearned hands. You have read him with pleasure, and I dare fay, with admiration, in the Latin, of which you are a mafter. You have added to your natural endowments, which, without flattery, are eminent, the superstructures of study, and the knowledge of good authors. Courage, probity, and humanity are inherent in you. These virtues have ever been habitual to the ancient house of Cumberland, from whence you are defcended, and of which our chronicles make fo honourable mention in the long wars betwixt the rival families of York and Lancaster. Your forefathers have afferted the party which they chose till death, and died for its defence in the fields of battle. You have befides the fresh remembrance of your noble father; from whom you never can degenerate.

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-Nec imbellem feroces

"Progenerant Aquila Columbam.”

It being almost morally impoffible for you to be other than you are by kind; I need neither praise nor incite your virtue. You are acquainted with the Roman hiftory, and know without my information that patronage and clientship always defcended from the fathers to the fons, and that the fame plebeian houses had recourse to the fame patrician line, which had formerly protected them; and followed their principles and fortunes to the laft. So that I am your lordship's by descent, and part of your inheriAnd the natural inclination which I have to serve you, adds to your paternal right, for I was wholly

tance.

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wholly yours from the first moment when I had the happiness and honour of being known to you. Be pleased therefore to accept the Rudiments of Virgil's Poetry : coarfely tranflated, I confefs, but which yet retains fome beauties of the author which neither the barbarity of our language, nor my unskilfulness, could fo much fully, but that they fometimes appear in the dim mirror which I hold before you. The subject is not unfuitable to your youth, which allows you yet to love, and is proper to your present scene of life. Rural recreations abroad,and books at home,are the innocent pleafures of a man who is early wife; and gives fortune no more hold of him, than of neceffity he must. It is good, on fome occafions, to think beforehand as little as we can ; to enjoy as much of the present as will not endanger our futurity, and to provide ourfelves with the Virtuofo's faddle, which will be fure to amble, when the world is upon the hardest trot. What I humbly offer to your lordship, is of this nature. I wish it pleasant, and am fure it is innocent. May you ever continue your efteem for Virgil; and not leffen it, for the faults of his tranflator; who is, with all manner of respect and sense of gratitude,

My Lord,

Your lordship's

most humble and

moft obedient fervant,

JOHN DRYDEN.

THE

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The occafion of the firft Paftoral was this. When Augustus had settled himself in the Roman empire, that he might reward his veteran troops for their past service, he distributed among them all the lands that lay about Cremona and Mantua : turning out the right owners for having sided with his enemies. Virgil was a sufferer among the rest; who afterwards recovered his eftate by Mæcenas's interceffion, and as an instance of his gratitude composed the following Paftoral; where he fets out his own good fortune in the person of Tityrus, and the calamities of his Mantuan neighbours in the character of Me

libœus.

MELIBOEUS,

BENEATH the fhade which beechen boughs diffuse, You, Tityrus, entertain your sylvan Muse :

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Round

Round the wide world in banishment we roam,
Forc'd from our pleafing fields and native home :
While ftretch'd at eafe you fing your happy loves;
And Amarillis fills the fhady groves.

TIT. These bleffings, friend, a Deity bestow'd :
For never can I deem him lefs than God.
The tender firstlings of my woolly breed
Shall on his holy altar often bleed.

He gave my kine to graze the flowery plain ;
And to my pipe renew'd the rural strain.

MEL. I envy not your fortune, but admire,
That while the raging fword and wasteful fire
Destroy the wretched neighbourhood around,
No hoftile arms approach your happy ground.
Far different is my fate: : my
feeble goats
With pains I drive from their forfaken cotes:
And this you fee I fcarcely drag along,
Who yeaning on the rocks has left her young;
(The hope and promife of my failing fold.)
My lofs by dire portents the gods foretold :
For had I not been blind, I might have seen
Yon riven oak, the fairest of the green,

And the hoarfe raven, on the blafted bough,
By croaking from the left prefag'd the coming blow.
But tell me, Tityrus, what heavenly power

Preferv'd your fortunes in that fatal hour?

TIT. Fool that I was, I thought imperial Rome Like Mantua, where on market-days we come, 30 And thither drive our tender lambs from home.

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