VIRGIL'S BUCOLICS ENGISHED.  
Whereunto is added the Translation of the two first Satyrs of IWENAL.  
By JOHN BIDLE.  
— Baccare frontem  
Cingite, ne vati noceat mala lingua futuro.  
LONDON. Printed by I. L. 1634.   

TO THE WORSHIPFUL, HIS MOST WORTHY PAtron, john Smith of Nibly Esquire, Maecenas of the Wottonian Muses.  
Sigh, when you daigned to restore  
Our School deflowered, defaced before,  
Your Favourite he did commence,  
And handsel your Munificence;  
That of his Muse he well may call  
You the main Base, and Pedestal;  
And a bad Debtor 'tis (they say)  
That never can resolve to pay:  
He, sir, (for his lank Fortune's poor  
Affords him now no better store)  
In tender of his Service due,  
This Moiety presents to you,  
(The firstlings of his Fruits) that will Remain  
Your grateful Henchman still, john Bidle.   

TO THE READERS.  
INgenuous Readers, question you may, with what front I (enlisted (I confess) among the Rabble of home-bread versifiers) dare thrust upon the world this abortive pamphlet: shall I tell you? I dreamt nothing less, but was entasked to undertake this unwilling willing labour. But not to go about the bush, if you reak not of this Apology, (I pray you) sith every capricious brainsick Rhymer so pestersthe world with the uncouth Chimaeraes of his own fancy, why should not I disvellop the flag of my Muse? which though she be homespun, and savours of Rusticity, yet fearing to rove at random after selfe-plotted and new-fangled tricks; (in which respect she may extort, though not praise yet pardon) hath chosen to confine herself within the precincts of Translation, and here presents you with these Pastorals (which were first coated by the Prince of Latin Poets in a Roman Garb) now shifted into an English habit.  
As for the work itself, I could wish I had performed it throughout with such Dexterity, as might have endeared, and engaged your liking: But sith (as I mistrust) I have not in some places, upon just admonition, none shall be more ready to agnize his errors, and amend them, than myself.  
john Bidle.   

VIRGIL'S BUCOLICS.  

THE FIRST ECLOGVE, OR, TITYRUS.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
Blessed Tityrus his Fautor God doth style,  
Whilst Melibie deplores his hard Exile.  MELIBOEUS. TITYRUS. 
THou, Tityrus, in shroud of Beech, dost play  
On slender Oaten-pipe a Sylvan lay;  
Our Native Confines We abandon: We  
Our pleasant Granges, & our Country flee:  
Thou, Tityrus, i'th' shade reposing still,  
Learnest the woods to resound fair Amarillis.  Tit. 
God is the Source of this our happy Rest,  
O Melibaeus! Him I will invest  
Ay with that Name; A tender Lambling, ta'en  
From our Coats, oft his Altars shall distain.  
My Neat to freely graze (thou seest:) and me  
On Reed to play my Fill, permitted Herald  Me. 
Sure I Envy not, but Admire thy State:  
Through all our Country, every where, of Late,  
We by the Soldier are embroiled so.  
Far-off I, sickly, drive my Goatlings, lo,  
And, Tityrus, can scarce This lug along;  
For erst she eaning, th' Hazels thick among,  
Her twins, the Flock's Hope, on a bare Flint letr.  
Oft this Disaster (had we not been rest  
(Dull Sots!) of Sense!) the Lightning-blasted Okes  
By sure Ostents portended, and the Rook's  
Ill-boding Notes from th' hollow Holmen Tree!  
But tell me, Tit'rus, who that God should be.  Ti. 
With that Vast City, which they Rome do call,  
I (Fool!) did parallel our Mantua Small,  
Where oft We, Shepherds, sell our tender Lambs.  
Now I have known Thus kidling like their Dams;  
Whelps, like their Bitch's: Thus compare I did  
Great things with small: But Her cloud-threatning Head  
As much 'bove other Cities towereth up,  
As Cypresses the Dwarf Shrubs over top.  Me. 
And what such great cause hadst Thou Rome to see?  Ti. 
Sweet Liberty, which resaluted me  
With Later, but with Better Visits far,  
After my downy Beard I first did shear.  
She resaluted Me, and came again  
Long after, since that Galataea (when  
Me Amarillis had) deserted me.  
For (for I will confess) of Liberty  
No Hope, no Care of my Estate I had;  
While I with Rustic Galataea stayed.  
Though many a Victim from my Sheep folds went,  
And fat Cheese to that thankless Town I sent,  
Yet ne'er my Fist well-monied did return.  Me. 
I mused why Thou the Gods didst call and mourn;  
And for whose Sake Thou suffered'st, Amarillis  
The Ripe Fruit on the Trees to dangle still  
— 'Twas Tityrus went Hence; The Pine-Trees tall,  
Thee, Tityrus, the Founts, and Groves did call.  Ti. 
What should I do? Me from the servile Yoke  
I neither could lose, nor, elsewhere, invoke  
The like propitious Gods. Here, Melibie,  
I did that un-corrivald Stripling see,  
For whose sole Sake twice six days every year,  
Our Altar's smoke. He First my Wishes Here  
Singed with these Answerrs; Boys (as erst ye did)  
Yoke your un-wilded Bulls, your Oxen feed.  Me. 
Blessed Old-Man, therefore shall thy Country Grange  
Remain, and big enough for Thee to range:  
" Though It an over-peering Hill doth bound,  
" And a thick muddy Plash bemoat It round  
" Tn'vn-wonted Clover shall not hurt thy stock  
Of Pregnant Ewes: Nor shall thy Neighbour's Flock  
Infect Them with the Scab. Old happy Man,  
Here shalt Thou thou the well known Rivers than,  
And sacred springs, be with cool Brieses found,  
On this side, th' Hedge, that parts thy Neighbour's Land  
From Thine, (which for the blooming willow-Trees  
Is always haunted by Hyblaean Bees)  
Thee shall invite, with gentle buzzing Noise  
To take sweet Naps oft. With exalted voice  
Sing shall (on the other Side) the Loppers shrill,  
Down at the Bases of a lofty Hill.  
Nor shall hoarse Ringdoves (thy care) cease to woe;  
Nor Turtle from the airy Elm to coo.  Ti. 
The light Stags therefore shall feed in the Sky,  
And Seas leave on the shore their Fishes dry:  
(Deserting Both their Native Country's Bliss)  
The exiled Parthian shall drink Araxis;  
The german, Ty●●is: From his Countenance  
'Fore I my mindful Hearts eyes will askance.  Me. 
But We, some to the thirsty Africans,  
Hence quick will post; some to the Scythians;  
To Cretan swift Oaxis some confined;  
And Britons quite from the whole World disjoined.  
Lo I shall I (wretched Exile) kenning ere  
My Native Confines, after many a year;  
And Turf thatched Contect of my Cottage poor,  
(My Petty Kingdom) It admire therefore?  
Shall th' impious Soldier be possessed of These  
So-well tilled Earshes? The Barbarian seize  
These Crops? Lo! Neighbours to what Misery  
Discord hath brought Us? Lo! for Whom have we  
Sown our manured Acres! Pear-Trees now  
Grafe. Melihoeus; into Ranges bow  
Thy Vines! ye bounding Goats, avant, avant  
Ye (sometime Happy) Goats! Far-off: I shan't,  
(In a green Cave imbowled) Hereafter You,  
From a Thorn-bristled Mountain hanging view.  
To You no war bling Ditties shall I sing;  
The flowering Cythisse (ay you pasturing)  
Nor then the bitter Willows shall you brouz.  Ti. 
But yet vouchsafe my shed thy Rendezvouz.  
This Night, and on green Leaves repose with Me;  
We (for thy Supper) mellow Apples; We  
Fresh-gathered Chest nuts have at Home, and store  
Of newmade Cheese: And now bemisted o'er  
With dusky Smoke are th' Hamlets Summits all,  
And greater shadows from High Mountains fall.   

THE SECOND ECLOGVE. OR, ALEXIS.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
Thriled with God Cupid's shafts, (though in despair)  
Poor Corydon pursues Alexis Fair,  
THe Shepherd Corydon loved Alexis fair,  
His Master's Darling: but with hope less Care.  
He only to the Glades his course did frame,  
And 'mongst the tufted Beeches daily came;  
There did He to the Woods, and Mountains vent  
This moody Ditty, with a vain Intent.  
Alexis' dire! Thou sleight'st all Lays of Mine!  
Relentless art! Mak'st Me to die (in fine!)  
Now even the cattle in the shade reside:  
Now thorn-full Brakes even the green Lizards hide.  
Thestylis, for the Mowers tired i'th' Sun,  
Now Garlic, and wild-Bettony death pun,  
Strong-senting Herbs: But with my warbling sound,  
And Grashopper's hoarse Notes the Groves rebound,  
As I in Quest of Thee (while Phoebus glows)  
Do roam. Was it not better Me t'expose  
To Amarils sad Ire, and haughty Pride?  
Not better was't Menalcas to abide?  
Though he were Black, Thou White. Fair, None-such  
Be not too-confident on Beauty's Blaze. (Face,  
Unsullied Privet-Flowres do fall (we see;)  
Black Violets are cropped. Thou scornest Me,  
Nor, who I am, enquit'st; What store I keep  
Of Milk; How many snowwhite fleeced sheep.  
My thousand Ewes stray on Sicilian Hills;  
When Summer scorches, and when Winter chills,  
New-milke I have: such quavering Airs I sing,  
As that sweet Hymnist, (the Herds summoning)  
Theban Amphion erst to chant was wont,  
In Aracinth, that on the shore doth front.  
Nor am I so deformed, this Face of mine.  
I viewed i'th' Mirror of the calmed Brine,  
Late standing on the Beach; Contend I dare,  
Thou judge, (If true's my Counterfeit) for Fair  
With Daphnis. O, would it might please Thee well,  
I'th' Country (sor did deemed of Thee) to dwell!  
And seat thy Mansion in our low-built sheds;  
And Stage transfix; and drive the frisking Kids  
To the Marsh mallows, chanting th' woods among,  
Like Pan, the Diapason of thy song.  
Pan many Reeds did First together glue  
With Wax: Pan favours Sheep, and Sheep herds too.  
Nor e'er repent t'have worn thy Lip with play:  
How toiled Amy 〈…〉 t for skill in music's Lay?  
With seven unequal Reeds a Pipe I have  
Compact, which erst Damatas to Me gave,  
And dying (thou'rt the Second Owner) said;  
He spoke: Amyntus envied, ill paid.  
Besides two Young-Rces, in an un-safe Vale  
Late found, I have; whose yet-pyed Skins are all-  
Bespect with white; They suck dry every day  
An Ew's two Teats; which erst to have away  
Me Thestylis importuned, and she shall,  
Because Thou prizest not our Gifts at all.  
Fair Boy, come hither; Lo! in crowded Mands  
The Nymphets bring Thee Lilies. With her Hands  
Spruce Nais, cropping Tops of Poppys stammel,  
And Violets, thy Ghirlands doth enamel  
Made with Narcissus sweet, and luscious Dill;  
Then adding other Herbs of fragrant smell,  
The Hyacinth she deftly doth be-frindge  
With the fine Marigold of Saffron I indge.  
Myself I'll downy Quinces pluck with care,  
And Chest-nuts, to my Amarillis dear;  
Soft Plums I'll add, and Honour shall accrue  
To them; And O ye Laurels, crop-off you,  
thou, amorous Myrtle, next; for placed thus,  
Perfumes ye mix most odoriferous.  
thou'rt Carydon a Clown: Alexis Fair  
Thy gifts doth scorn; Iölas Debonair,  
(If Gifts enforce thy Claim) will Thee outvie:  
Alas! what meant I wretch? let in have I  
To th' Flowers dank Auster, whiffing with his Wings;  
Fount-troubling Boars, to the pure crystal Springs.  
From Whom, ah frantic Boy, dost fling so fast?  
Even Gods have in the Woods their Mansion placed,  
And Paris: In her selfe-rais'd Turrets bright  
Let Pallas dwell; Us the Woods sole delight  
The Lioness, the Wolf: the Will doth use  
The Goat to follow: the blithe Goat pursues  
The Cythisse: Thee, Alexis, Coridon.  
All Fancies choice delights attend upon.  
The Bullocks, lo, bring home again the Plows;  
And Sol departing, 'bout Earth's gloomy Brows  
Night 'gins to spread her Curtains: yet I glow  
With love; For what mean doth fell Cupid know  
What thus infuriates Thee, Corydon?  
A vine Thou hast at home half pruned, upon  
A leavy Elone; Go, Rather Osiers take,  
And pliant Bul-rushes, and quickly make  
Utensils needful. If This prove un-kind,  
A Debonair Alexis Thou shalt find.   

THE THIRD ECLOGVE. OR, PALAEMON.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
The Shepherds entering Lists with furious Rage,  
Are stickled by Palaemon's umpirage.  MENALCAS. DAMOETAS. PALAEMON. Me 
Who owns these Sheep, Damoetas? Melibie?  Da. 
No, AEgon; AEgon lately took'em Me.  Me 
Still hapless Sheep! While AEgon (courting Her)  
Fears lest Neoera Met ' Himself prefer:  
The Ewes each hour this Hireling milketh twice,  
That both exhausted is the Cattles juice,  
And the poor Lambling of their Milk beguiled.  Da. 
But, sir, to Men those Feats upbraid more mild.  
We know where Thou, looking askew, wast ta'en,  
And (out the gentle Nymphs smiled) in what Fane.  Me. 
'twas Then, when Mycon's Copse they saw Me top  
With an ill Cycle, and his new Vines lop.  Da. 
Or, at th' old Beeches, Here, when Daphnis Bow,  
And shafts Thou brok'st: which when regiven, Thou,  
Perverse Menalcas, sawst, thy choler swelled,  
And (He unspited) spleen thy Life had quelled.  Me. 
When such Buffoons even thievish Servants be,  
Then what shall Masters do? did I not see  
Thee, Varlet, stealing Damon's Goat, when I,  
His Mongrel barking, Holla Thief, did cry?  
And said; In one my Flocks drive, Tit'rus, Here;  
Then didst Thou skulk behind a sedgy Peer.  
Out sung by Me, should He the Goat, Before  
Gained by my Pipes demerit, not restore?  
If Thou know'st not, 'twas Mine, confessed to Me  
By Damon, but surrendered could not be.  Me. 
Thou, Him, in singing— hadst a Pipe e'er glude  
With wax? waste Thou not wont, Thou bungler rude,  
Tinfest the Highways with thy yels, and double  
Thy baleful Ditties with a squeaking stubble.  Da. 
By Turn shalls both our Skills in singing try?  
This Heifer I lay down (Left thou deny,  
Twice a-day milked, two sucklings fosters she)  
Say for what wager Thou wilt Cope with Me.  Me. 
Nought of the Flock with Thee engage I must:  
A Sire I have at Home, a stepdame cursed.  
Both twice a-day the sheep; The Kids she tells  
Besides. But, what thyself shall say excels,  
(Sith thou'rt so peevish) I will bet a Pair  
Of Beechen Cups, carved by that Artist rare  
Alcimedon: on which a pliant Vine  
Most featly turned, doth amorously combine  
With berryed Ivy; Embossed, midst of All,  
Two Figures are, Conon, and (what I call)  
He, that with's jacob-staffe this Mundan Bowl,  
When Mowers should pied Tellus Tresses poll,  
Described what Seasons are for Ploughmen fit:  
Which with my Lips untouched I keep as yet.  Da. 
So two for Us the same Alcimedon made,  
Whose Ears soft twining Bears-foot doth o'er shade;  
I'th' midst He Orpheus, and th' Woods following set:  
Which with my Lips untouched I keep as yet.  
The Heifer view, Thou thou lt not the Cups enhance.  Me. 
Thou shalt ne'er scape to day. I will advance  
On any Terms: Let's only put it to  
Yon Man's Arbitrement. Palamon lo!  
I'll make ye, Sirrah, never dare again.  
Let's to't; No stay shall be found in Me then,  
Nor reak I any. Only this I pray,  
Neighbour Palaemon poise it; 'tis no Toy.  Pa. 
Sing, sith We in the tender Grass repose,  
And now each Meadow, now each Sapling blows;  
The Woods Now flourish, the year's fairest Now.  
Begin, Damaetas, first; Then follow Thou  
Menalcas. Ye shall both by Turn rehearse:  
The sacred Muses love Alternate Verse.  Da. 
My Song beginneth from All-filling Jove:  
He's Tellus' Fautor: He my Verse doth love.  Me. 
And Me Don Phoebus' favours: His Gifts ay  
I have, both sweet red Hyacinth, and Bay.  Da. 
At me an Apple Galataea flings:  
(First eyed by me) Then to the Willow springs.  Me. 
But Me Amynt, unwooed, doth visit so,  
That our Dogs do not better Delia know.  Da. 
I for my Minion have got Gifts: for I  
A Nest of airy Ringdoves erst did spy.  Me. 
Ten Limmons to the Boy, (so stored Then)  
I sent: I'll send tomorrow t' other Ten.  Da. 
What Words to Us did Galataea say?  
Some part, ye Winds, to the God's ears convey!  Me. 
What boots it though, Amynt, Thou lov'st Me,  
The Boars Thou chacest, if I keep the Toils? (while  Da. 
Iôlas, Phillis send (my Birthday 'tis:)  
Come Thou, when I to Ceres' sacrifice.  Me. 
She hath my Heart: My Going she did rue,  
Saying, fair Jôlas, Long Adieu, Adieu. (down;  Da. 
The Wolf, the stalls; Ripe Fruits, showers drizzling  
Trees, boisterous Winds annoy; Me, phillis Frown.  Me. 
Withy love teeming cattle; Corn, a shower;  
Kids, Arbuts; I, Amynt my Paramour.  Da. 
Our Muse (though Rustic) is to Pollio dear;  
Ye Muses, for your Reader feed a steer.  Me. 
A Bull feed for Him, (He the Poet plays)  
Whole Horns may grow, whose Hooves the sand may raise.  Da. 
Let thy Friend, Polli●, come where thou dost come,  
Let Hony flow There; Thorns bear Amomum.  Me. 
Who hates not Bavius Rhymes, let him love thine,  
Rank Maevius: Hegoates milk, and Foxes join.  Da. 
Ye Boys, that flowers, and Strawb'rys pluck apace,  
Fly hence; a cold Snake lurketh in the Grass.  Me. 
Let not the Sheep approach the Bank too nigh a  
Now even the Ram his soaked Fleece doth dry.  Da. 
My Goatlings, Tit'rus, from the River bring:  
When time shall serve, I'll rinse'em in the Spring.  Me. 
Lads, shrowded the Ewes: If their milk dried up be,  
(As Lare) in vain their Udders squeeze shall We.  Da. 
How lank my Bull is in a Pasture battle!  
The same Love pines the master, and the Cattle.  Me. 
Love's not the cause These bare-boned are, & slender:  
Some ill eye fascinates my Lambling tender.  Da. 
Tell (and Thou shalt be great Apollo) where  
Heaven three Else open (no more) doth appear.  Me. 
Tell where Flowers grow, upon whose Crowner's fine  
Kings Names are writ, and Phyllis shall be Thine.  Pa. 
No such great mutual Feud compose must We,  
thou'rt worthy of the Heifer, so is He;  
And whoever Bitter tries, or Sweet Loves dreads.  
Lads shut the Rivers, sated are the Meads.   

THE FOURTH ECLOGVE. OR, POLLIO.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
Reviving Sibyl's verse, in Golden Rhymes,  
Our Poet Here presageth Golden Times.  
SIcilian Muses Now some Loftier Strain:  
Low Tamarisks, and Shrubs do never gain  
All Fancies Liking. If we carol forth  
The Woods, the Woods may suit the Consul's Worth,  
Lapsed Now's the Iron Age by Sibyl sung:  
Afresh the Old World's Renovation's sprung:  
The Virgin Now returns, and Saturn's Reign:  
Now a New Off-spring's scent of Heavenly strain.  
This Boy (the Period of the Iron Age,  
That doth, Lucina, Golden Times presage)  
His Mother's pregnant Womb as thy Hand lays,  
Favour: The Sceptre thy Apollo sways.  
This blist-full Age, Thou Consul, shall begin,  
Dread Pollio, and the Great Month's Usher in.  
Then Civill-Wars surviving Relics quelled,  
From Fear to quit the Earth shall be compelled.  
He shall be deified in blessed Abodes,  
Seeing, and Seen of Heroes mixed with Gods.  
And with his Father's Martial Prowess, the Earth  
Composed, rule. But, Sweet Boy, on thy Birth,  
Tellus, uncultivated, shall bestow  
Green Lady-Gloves and crawling Ivy too,  
As her first Gifts; and Beares-foot virent still,  
Mixed with Egyptian-Beans of luscious Smell.  
Their Udders stuffed with Milk the She-Goats shall  
Bring Home; nor Lion saw the Herds at all.  
Most odoriferous Flowers shall proceed  
Even from thy Cradle, and each bainfull Weed  
Die, with the Serpent: Sprouting every where  
Assyrian Amomum shall appear.  
But when thy Sire's Exploits, and Heroes Fame  
Thou, reading, shalt discern true Virtue's Name,  
The Field shall yellow grow with Ears of Corn,  
And red Grapes dangle on th' ncultive Thorn;  
And fragrant Honey from hard-Okes shall drain.  
Yet shall few Seeds of Ancient Fraud remain,  
Towns causing to immure, and Thetis sweep  
With Keels, and slice the Earth with surrowes deep.  
Another famous Typhis shall be Then;  
Another Argo, to waft o'er again  
Selected Heroes; other Wars befall;  
Again great-sould Achilles Ilium scale.  
When Thou a Man shalt be, to sail the Brine  
The Mariner shall cease; No Nauticke Pine  
Shall barter Wares. All Lands all Things shall bear.  
The Glebe Then tooth full Harrows shall not tear,  
Nor shall the Vine abide the Pruning Hook:  
The hardy Blow man shall his Bull's un-yoke.  
Wool various colours shall not counterfeit:  
Their Fleeces Now with Red-mixt Purple sweet,  
Now die with Saffron yellow shall the Rams;  
Bright Sandix shall invest the feeding Lambs.  
The Parcaes ' greeing by Fates fixed Decree,  
Said to their Spindle's, Rowl such Times of Glee.  
Vault ('twill be Time) into the Regal Throne,  
loves great Increase, th' Immortal's dearest Son,  
The World, lo, reels with Sin's stupendious Fraight!  
Earth, Seas, Heaven's boundless Regionrs shrink with weight!  
See, in the Age-to-come how All rejoice!  
May I so long extend my life, and Voice,  
Thy Deeds in Strains Heroïck to rehearse!  
Not Thracian Orpheus should out-shrill my Verse,  
Nor Linus: Though Calliope, his Mother,  
Should second Orpheus: His fire Phoebus, t'other.  
Arcadia judge, strove Pan with Me in Lay,  
Arcadia judge, He should resign the Bays.  
Begin, Little Boy, to know thy Mother's smiles:  
Ten months have brought thy Mother tedious Toils.  
Begin: His God (whose Parents have not laughed)  
A Board; A Bed, his Goddess ne'er vouchaft.   

THE FIFTH ECLOGVE. OR, DAPHNIS.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
Their Daphnis Death in Swanlike Tunes deplored,  
The Swains consorting mutual Gifts afford.  MENALCAS. MOPSUS. Me. 
Why, Mopsus, do We not (sith Both skilled meet,  
Thou, to blow light Reeds, I, to carol sweet)  
Amid these Hazel-inchased Elms reside?  Mo. 
You are my Senior; You t'obey I'm tide,  
Beneath uncertain shades while Zephyr blows  
Whether We lie, or in some Cave repose;  
Lo how a Wild-Vine doth this Grot bespread,  
His dangling Clusters thinly scattered!  Me. 
The sole Amynt shall combat in our Hills.  Mo. 
What if, in Singing, Phoebus He out-shrils?  Me. 
Sing, Mopsus, first, or Phyllis Loves to raise;  
Or stalling Codrus Death; Or Alcons Praise.  
Begin; Thy feeding Kids shall Tit'rus tend.  Mo. 
Yea (Late which in a Beech's Rind I penned)  
These Verses tuned by course unto my Reed,  
I'll try; Then bid Amyntas to succeed.  Me. 
As Pliant Osiers, to Pale Olive Trees;  
Low Lavender, to Purple Rosaries;  
So much We judge Amyntas stoops to Thee.  Mo. 
Cease Boy, for We thy Grot are entered, see.  
The Nymphs condoled their butchered Daphnis dear,  
To them ye streams, and Hazels Record bear:  
When clipping her dead Son's Ruth-moving Corpse,  
His Mother blamed the Gods and stars dire Force.  
None, Daphnis, drove their full-stuft Near to drink,  
Nor any cattle sipped the River's Brink,  
Nor in those days once touched a Blade of grass.  
That Punic Lions did thy Death (Alas!)  
Bemoan, the Woods and savage Mountains tell.  
He harnessed First Hyrcanian Tigers fell:  
He First to Bacchus instituted Dances,  
And first with soft Leaves wreathed pliant Lances.  
As Vines do Trees, as Grapes do Vines adorn,  
The Herds as Bulls, as fallow Lands the Corn:  
So Thou Thine crownest. When Thee Fates bereft,  
Our Fields even Pales, and Apollo left.  
Where We plump Barley sowed in Furrows Late,  
Base Darnell, and Wild-Oates predominate:  
For the soft Vi'let, purple Daffodil,  
Our Meadows prickly Furse, and Thistles fill.  
Ye Shepherds strew the Ground with Leaves, & Flowers  
Your Fountains seel with enterbroided Bows,  
(For Daphnis so commands) and Him inter,  
With this Inscription on his Sepulchre,  
I Daphnis in the Woods, Hence known to th'Air;  
A Fair Flocks Keeper, but myself more Fair.  Me. 
Such is thy Verse to Us, Poet Divine,  
As, tired, in Grass to sleep, or to incline  
Our Head to quench (in scorching Summer's Heat)  
Our Thirst, at some sweet capering Rivulet.  
For Thou not only with thy Reeds shrill Noise,  
But equalest thy Master with thy Voice.  
O happy Lad, Thou shalt his Second be!  
Yet We However w 〈…〉 l re-chant to Thee.  
Our Verse, and to the Stars advance thy Pear  
We'll Daphnis stellify: He loved Us dear.  Mo. 
Can any Boon endear Us more? He, young,  
Deserved to be enhanced with a song.  
And Stimichon erst praised to Us those Lays.  Me. 
Heaven's Portall deified Daphnis doth amaze,  
And views the clouds, and Stars beneath his Feet.  
Therefore the frolic Woods, and Country sweet,  
Pan, Swains, and Virgin▪ Dryads now are rapt  
With joy; Nor doth the Wolf (to prey so apt)  
Worry the Sheep, nor guileful Toils cisease  
The fearful Stags: Good Daphnis loveth Peace.  
The Wood-crowned Mountains make the Welkin ring  
With Shouts of Glee; The Rocks, the Groves do sing,  
Menalcas, He's a God Propitious be  
To shine: four Altars lo! Two recared to Thee,  
God Daphnis: Two up for Apollo set.  
To Thee two foaming Cups with Milk replete,  
With Oil as Many 〈…〉 allot each year:  
With liberal Bacchus as thy Wakes I cheer,  
I'th'Hearth, if cold; If Hot, in shady Bower.  
I'll Chian Wine (as sweet as Nectar) power  
From turned up Bowls. While I perform this thing,  
Damaetas shall with Lyctian Aegon sing.  
Alphe sibaeus shall trip nimble Rounds,  
Like to the frisking Satyrs. When our Grounds  
We expiate, and pay our solemn Vows  
Unto the Nymphs, Thou still shalt have these dues.  
Whilst the Fish loves the Streams, the Boar the Hill,  
Bees feed on Thyme; on Due Grasshoppers shrill:  
Thy Honour, Name, and Praise shall still remain.  
To Bacchus, and to Ceres as the Swain  
Makes yearly Vows, He shall to Thee: and Thou  
Shalt bind Him with a Curse to pay his Vow.  Mo. 
How shall I guerdon Thee for such a Lay?  
For neither whilstling Austers Gale (I say,)  
Nor b●llow-beaten Rocks delight me so;  
Nor R●ls that pearl through stony Valleys low!  Me. 
But We this slender Pipe will give Thee first.  
This [Corydon loved fair Alexis] versed;  
This taught [whose sheep, Damaetas? Melibies?]  Mo. 
Take Thou this Sheep's. Crook (which Antigenes  
Oft begged in vain▪ and yet a Lovely Friend)  
Near for the equal knots, and brazen End.   

THE six ECLOGVE, OR, SILENUS,  
THE ARGUMENT.  
Dread Varus Praise. Silenus, Whittled, sings  
The Earth's Beginning, & the Change of Things.  
TO sport First in a Syracusian Strain,  
And Woods frequent, did my Thalia deign.  
When Kings, and horrid Wars I loudly sung,  
Apollo plucked my Ear, and checked my Tongue.  
A Shepherd feed his sheep must, Tityrus;  
Make slender Verses, not Robustious.  
Now I (for, Varus, enough will in Verse  
Desire thy Acts, and sad Wars to rehearse)  
Will tune on slender Reed a Rustic Lay.  
Infranchized is my Muse. If Any may,  
If Any These of mere Love read, thy Worth  
Our Tamarisks, each Grove shall warble forth,  
Nor e'er a Page more dear to Phoebus came,  
Than to whose Front prefixed is Varus Name.  
Sing, Muses. Cromis, and Mnasylus saw  
Silenus' yawn, as in a Cave he lay,  
Veine-swoln with yersterday's too-liberall Bowls:  
His flowery Chaplet from his Temples rowls,  
His eare-worne massy Flagon hangs fast by.  
Invading Him (for oft the old Fox sly,  
With Hope of Verses Them deluded had)  
Of his soft Anadems Him Bonds they made.  
Aegle, as Mate, forthwith accrues to These;  
Aegle, the Fairest of the Naiads:  
And Now (Silenus well enough it spies)  
His Front, and Temples with red Mulb'ries dies.  
He, smiling at the Trick, said, Why d'ye tie Me?  
Wags, loose; It is enough You did espy Me.  
Lo your so-long wisht-Boon! You Verses take;  
She shall have some Gift else. And so bespoke,  
Then Savages, and Fauns, at his Tunes brave  
Did dance Levaltoes, and Okes Summits wave,  
Not his Mount, Phoebus so; Th' Ismarian spire,  
Or Rhodope so Orpheus did admire.  
For, First, how Atoms met, and did give Birth,  
Conjoined in that vast Chaos, unto Earth,  
To Fire, to Air, to water: How from all  
These Firsts proceeded each Original:  
And how the World's unstable Globe complide;  
How th' Earth it did consolidate, and divide  
Salt Nereus from the Fresh, and Things Forms bore,  
And Sol's bright Rays amazed, unseen before:  
And how by Praecipies the showers do fall  
From elevated Clouds: Th' Original  
Of Woods He sung, and how through Mountain's strange  
The Animals, at First, did thinly range.  
Then Pyrrha's caststones; Saturn's Monarchy;  
Caucasean Fowl; Prometheus' Thievery;  
And how the Sailors, fount-drencht Hyle unfound,  
Cried, that the Shore did Hylas, Hylas' sound.  
And (happy, had there ne'er been Herds) doth cheer  
Pasiphae with the Love of snowwhite steer.  
Ah hapless Maid! What madness Thee doth seize?  
The three infuriated Praetides  
Did with false Lowing fill the spacious Fields,  
But to such Coiture of Bulls None yields,  
Though her Neck feared the Blow, and she was wont  
To seek Horns on her smooth un-horned Front.  
Ah hapless Maid! Thou Now on Hills dost stray,  
He on the Hyacinth his white side doth lay,  
And half digested Grass again doth chew  
Beneath a Holy-Oke, or doth purse  
Some Cow in the great Herd▪ Shut up your Lawns,  
Shut up, Dictaean Nymphs, Now: If by chance  
Some foot-tracks of the Bull (as 'bout We chase)  
Meet our retriving Eyes: With verdant Grass  
Or ta'en perhaps, or, the Herds following,  
Him to the Cretan stalls some Kine do bring.  
Then chants Her that th' Hesperideses Fruit of Gold  
So much admired; Then Mossy Films enfold  
Th' Heliades, who Spine to Aldars tall,  
With such Dexterity he limns 'em all.  
How Gallus, when He at Permessus strayed,  
One Muse into th' Aonian Hills conveyed;  
And Chants how all the Chore of Phoebus Than  
Rose up, and did obeisance to the Man.  
How with Divining Verse (his Tress impaled  
With flowery Wreaths, and Parsley Bitter called)  
Sheep-keeping Linus Thus to Him did sing.  
Thee these Reeds (take 'em lo!) the Muses bring,  
Th' Ascraean Shepherds once, whereon he'd lay  
And sturdy Ashes from their seasures draw.  
Now the Grynaean Wood's Origen chant  
With These, that Phoebus more of None may vaunt.  
Why shall I Nisus Daughter Seylla name  
How sung by Him? or totherother Scylla fame,  
That, with dire yelping Monsters hemmed Below,  
Did toss Ulysses Carvels to and fro:  
And in the tumid Main's incensed Billows,  
With her fierce Seadogs worried all his Fellows.  
Or, how He changed Tereus' Limbs expressed?  
Or for H●m Philomela's Gifts, and Feasts?  
How, He, Woods haunting, a Bird's Form assumes,  
But flies about his House First raised with Plumes?  
All which Eurotas (Phoebus turning erst)  
Did hear, and bad his Laurels learn, Rehearsed.  
He sings, with Repercussion of the Sound  
The valleys ring, and echoing do rebound:  
Till in the Foulds the counted Sheep t'inshrine  
(Maugre Olympus) Vesper did enjoin.   

THE SEVENTH ECLOGVE. or, MELIBOEUS.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
Sweet Corydon, out-shrilling Thyrsis well,  
By Melibaeus Verdict bears the Bell.  MELIBOEUS. CORYDON. THYRSIS. Me. 
BEneath a Whistling Holm-Tree Daphnis sat;  
And Corydon, and Thyrsis did of late  
Drive both their Foocks together into One:  
Thyrsis, his Seepe; milke-stuft Goats, Corydon.  
Both striplings; Both You'd think of Arcady;  
Both matched to sing, and ready to Reply.  
While shrouding Myrtles from bleak Winds I stayed,  
The Flock-conducting He-goat Hence had strayed:  
And I see Daphnis: When Me once he spies,  
Come hither Melibaeus quick, He cries:  
Safe is thy Goat, and Kids, ne'er vex for Those,  
And, if Thou canst stay, in the Shade repose.  
Thy Bullocks, of their own accord, to drink  
Will Hither come; Here the green grassy Brink  
Of Gamesome Mince, with quivering Reeds is Crowned,  
And from the sacred Oak the Swarms resound.  
What should I do? Alcippe, Phyllis I  
Had not, at Home my Weaned Lambs to try;  
And the Swains did contend in ve'ment sort;  
Yet to my work preferred I their Disport.  
Then Both striven in Alternate Verses terse;  
The Muses craved an Amebaean Verse;  
These Corydon; Those Thyrsis began rehearse.  Co. 
Our loy, Lebethrian Nymphs, Me such a Vain  
As Codrus (Phoebus' Second) either deign,  
Or if All cannot make a Verse Divine,  
Hang shall my shrill Pipe on this Sacred Pine.  Th. 
Arcadian Swains (that Codrus Guts with Spleen  
May break) your Poet deck with Ivy green:  
Or if He Praise extort, his Forehead wreath  
With Lady-Gloves, 'gainst Cordrus blasting Breath.  Co. 
This Boar's Head Mycon to Thee doth import;  
These Antliers, Delia, of a long-lived Hart;  
But grant this Boon, in polished Marble Now,  
Calve-bound with Purple Buskins, stand fhalt Thou.  Th' 
A Bowl of Milk, these cakes (expect no more,)  
Priapus, Keeper of our Hort-yard poor.  
Now doth a Marble Statue Thee enfold;  
But if our Flocks increase, be All of Gold.  Co. 
O Galataea, sweeter than the Thyme!  
More white than Swans; than Ivy pale more prime,  
When our Bulls fed shall to the stalls go home,  
(For Corydon if ought Thou carest) come.  Th. 
More Bitter than Sardinian Herbs to Thee,  
Than Broome, or Seaweeds Base let Me be,  
If longer than a year is not this day.  
For shame, ye full-fed Steers, away, away.  Co. 
Cool mossy Fountains, Sleep-alluring Grass,  
Greene Arbuts, that with thin shades You embrace,  
The cattle from the Sun-sted fence about;  
Now on the Tendrell the Buds burgeon out.  Th. 
A Hearth, fat Tapers, still much Fire is Here,  
And black smoake-collied Posts: as much We care  
For Boreas, as Wolves for sheep numerous Ranks,  
Or Rain-incensed Torrents for their Banks.  Co. 
Our junipers, our Chest-nuts rough are full,  
Thou Apples under each Tree strowed mayst cull:  
All now laugh; Let Alexis absent be  
From these Hills, you should Rivers stream less see.  Th. 
Fields rive, the sultery Air the Herbage Kills;  
Liber the Vineleaves envies to the Hills:  
Woods Phillis Coming shall with Verdure crown,  
And vegetating love with Showers bring down.  Co. 
The Poplar, Herc'les; Bacchus loves the Vine;  
The Laurel, Phoebus; Myrtle, Venus' fine;  
The Hazels Phyllis loves: which while she do,  
Yield shall the Myrtle, Phoebus' Laurel too.  Th. 
The Wild-Ash, th' Woods; The Pine the Hort-yards crowns;  
The Poplar Rivers; The tall fir the downs.  
Fair Lycidas, but ofter visit Me,  
Wild-ash, and Garden-pine shall stoop to Thee.  Me. 
This I record; Foiled Thyrsis did put on  
In vain: since that Time, for Us, Corydon.   

THE EIGHTH ECLOGVE. OR, PHARMACEUTRIA.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
False fickle Nisa, Damon infamizes:  
Alphesibie for Daphnis, Spells devizes.  DAMON. ALPHESIBOEUS. 
we'll Damon's, and Alphesiboeus Lays;  
With whose sweet Chants a Heifer stood at gaze,  
And Rivers, ravished, did surcease to glide;  
And with whose Verses were Lynxes stupefied:  
We'll Damon's, and Alphesibaeus Lays  
Relate. Assist Thou, if thou passest o'er  
Now great Timovus, or th' Illyrian shore.  
Lo! that I may eternize with my Rhymes  
Thy Martial Feats, will ever be those Times?  
That thy Verse may by Me be o'er the World  
(Sole suiting Sophoclean Buskin) hurled?  
From Thee my Rise; To Thee my end I'll make;  
Verses at thy Command composed take;  
And suffer this my Wreath of lvie small,  
Amongst thy conquering Bays, thy Brows t' impale.  
Now scarce contracted were Nights Curtains sable,  
(The Dew to th' cattle Then most acceptable)  
Thus Damon, leaning on an Olive Spray.  Da. 
Rise, Lucifer, and usher in the day;  
Whilst I, inveigled with her cozening Love,  
Of Nisa's Lure complain, and pity move:  
And Now accost the Gods, in fine, apalled;  
Though I Them oft to Record bootless called.  
Begin with Me, my Pipe, Maenalian Lays.  
Shrill Woods hath Maenalus, and Vocal Pines;  
To Shepherds Love complaining songs inclines  
He his Ears still; And Pan, who Reeds, of yore,  
Taught Tunes to vary, rude composed before.  
Begin with Me, my Pipe, Maenalian Lays.  
Ill-favoured Mopsus doth Fair Nisa wed.  
What is there, that We Lovers may not dread?  
The Gryphins, Henceforth, shall with Horse's link;  
And Stags with Stag-infesting Dogs shall drink;  
New Tapers cut, for Thou a Wife dost wed;  
Nuts, Mopsus, strew, from Oeta Hesper's fled.  
Begin with Me, my Pipe, Maenalian Lays.  
To Worthy Husband joined! while scorning All  
My Pipe Thou slightest, my bounding Goats as small;  
My rough-haired Eyebrow, and my Dangling Beard;  
And ween'st no God doth mortal Things regard.  
Begin with Me, My Pipe, Maenalian Lays.  
A Goatheard, I Thee, with the Mother, viewed,  
When Little, gathering Apples all bedewed,  
Within our Hegde fenced Grounds; Then entered had  
The second from th' eleventh year Me t'invade.  
Then under-boughes I could reach o'er my Head:  
No sooner seen, How undone! How misled!  
Begin with Me, my Pipe, Maenalian Lays.  
Now what the Godling Cupid is, I see;  
Or craggy Ismarus, or Rhodope,  
Or Farthest Garamants that Rock-born Brood  
Produced, not of our Progeny or Blood.  
Begin with Me, my Pipe, Maenalian Lays.  
Love taught a Mother to distain, for Ire,  
In her Son's Gore her Hands; a Mother dire!  
A Fiercer Mother, or a Fiercer ●ad?  
The Mother Cruel, and the Boy was Bad.  
Begin with Me, my Pipe, Maenalian Lays.  
Now let the Wolf fly from the Sheep's Pursuit:  
Now let hard Okes be charged with Golden Fruit:  
Let th' Aldar flourish with the Daffodil:  
Let Tamarisks fat Amber Now distil:  
Owls cope with Swans: Tit'rus put Orpheus on:  
Orpheus, in Woods; 'mongst Delphins, Arion.  
Begin with Me, my Pipe, Maenalian Lays.  
Let All now turn to Sea. Adieu, ye Woods.  
By headlong Praecipies, into the Floods,  
I'll from this towering Mountain's summit fall:  
This Gift, as I expire, take last of all.  
Leave off, Pipe, Now leave off Maenalian Lays.  
Thus Herald Alphesibaeus Answer too,  
Ye Muses chant: All cannot all Things do.  Al. 
Maid, bring Me out some Water quickly quick,  
Then with soft Anadems, and Ribbons thick  
Surround these Altars, and suffumigate  
Male frankincense, and oil-smeared Vervain fat;  
T' infuriate with Magic's dire Alarms  
Love-flying Daphnis▪ Nought Here wants, but Charms.  
My Charms fetch from the City Daphnis Home.  
Charms make bright Cynthia from her Orb decline.  
Th' Incantresse Circe did transform to Swine  
Ulysses' Mates by Charms: The baleful Snake  
Charms in the Meads to break asunder make.  
My Charms fetch from the City Daphnis Home.  
I with this triple coloured threefold Thread  
Arround Thee, and thy Feature poutraicted  
Three times about these sacred Altars hale;  
For God loves the odd Number best of all.  
My Charms fetch from the City Daphnis Home.  
In three Knots knit three Thrums of Triple die;  
Quick, Amarillis; say, Love-Bonds I ty.  
My Charms fetch from the City Daphnis Home.  
As this Clay Hard, and this Wax Soft doth prove  
With the same Fire: so Daphnis with our Love.  
Sprinkle the Cake, burn Bay smeared with Bitume,  
He frys Me; I on Him this Bay consume.  
My Charms fetch from the City Daphnis Home.  
Let Daphnis be with such a Love possessed,  
As is a Heifer, when (tired with the Quest  
Of lustful steer through Groves, and devious Woods)  
She, Loue-consumed, reposeth on the Floud's  
Green Marge, nor late at Night doth thence depart;  
Such Him surprise: Nor let me cure impart.  
My Charms fetch from the City Daphnis Home.  
As his Love-Pawns, He (Now of trust bereft)  
These cast impoverished Garments whilom left,  
Which, Earth, I sacre in the Porch to Thee.  
These Daphnis must again restore to Me.  
My Charms fetch from the City Daphnis Home.  
These Herbs, and Pontic simples erst bestow  
On Me did Moeris: store in Pontus grow.  
Under a Wolvish Form by These He'd hide,  
And skulking in the uncouth Woods abide.  
Transplant Crops waving with Mustachoed Ears,  
And raise up Ghosts from their deep Sepuchers.  
My Charms fetch from the City Daphnis Home.  
Out, Amaryllis, forthwith Ashes bring,  
And Them with Head retreat i'th' River fling.  
I will encounter Daphnis with these. Arms:  
That reaks not for the Gods, nor Philter-charms.  
My Charms fetch from the City Daphnis Home.  
The Altars, lo! with quivering Flames have caught;  
(Be it Auspicious!) whilst that Fire's unbrought!  
(I know not what 'tis) and the fierce Cur bawls.  
Is't true? or Phantick are all Cupid's Thrals.  
Leave off, Charms, Daphnis from the City comes.   

THE NINTH ECLOGVE. OR, MOERIS.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
Two Rurals Here bewail, (Disaster strange ●)  
In baleful Notes, Menalcas seized Grange.  LYCIDAS. MOERIS. Ly. 
Whither, O Moeris? this Way, to the City?  Moe. 
We live, O Lycidas, (alas! for pity!)  
To hear a Stranger, of our Lands possessed,  
(Which We poor Wretches ever feared least)  
Say, These are mine; Avaunt ye Ancient Peasants.  
Now we cashiered, and sad, (O chance!) for presents  
To Him these Kidling (may They choke him) send.  Ly. 
Certes I heard, where the Hil's Verge doth bend  
Down with feasable descent his Bases,  
To crankling Mincius, that the Meads inchases,  
And the Old Beech's Now-broke Summit tall,  
That your Menalcas by his Verse kept all.  Moe. 
You heard; 'Twas bruited so; But our Verse proves  
'Mongst Wars as powerful, as Chaonian Doves,  
Jove's Bird assailing. Which Before if Those  
Unwonted Garboils quickly to compose,  
Did not th' Auspicious Rook Me warning give,  
Nor should thy Moeris, nor Menalcas live.  Ly. 
So desperately bend can Any be?  
Ah! were thy solace-giving Lays with Thee  
Almost, Menalcas ravished? who should sing  
The Nymphs? or th' Earth embellished in the Spring  
With Flora's Pride? or drilling Fountains pure,  
O'r-shadowed with Arbours Coverture?  
Or (going to our Minion Amaryll)  
The Verses Late I stole from Thee by skill?  
Tit'rus, while I return (short is the Way)  
My she-goats feed; fed, Them to drink convey,  
And as Thou driv'st Them to the Rivers fine,  
The He-Goat (butting with his Horn) decline.  Moe. 
Yea these he sung to Varus yet unfiled,  
Thy Name (We not of Mantua despoiled.  
Poor Mantua, to Cremona, ah! too near!)  
Up to the twinkling stars the Swans shall bear.  Ly. 
So may thy swarms Cyrnaean Yews decline!  
So may with Milk thy Cythisse-brouzing Kine  
Their Udders stuff! Begin (if ought Thou hast)  
'Mongst the Poetic Throng even I am placed;  
Me the Pierian sisters did install,  
And Me Swains (unbelieved) a Poet call:  
I mate not Varus yet, nor Cinna's strains,  
But gagle like a Goose 'mongst Vocal swains.  Moe. 
I do't, and silent, with myself I scan;  
'Tis a brave strain, if call't to mind I can.  
Come, Galataea; in rough Neptune's Wave  
What Pleasure is't? Here snaking Rillets lave  
Flowr-motlyed Banks; Here is a Purple spring;  
A sallow Poplar a Grot shadowing;  
Here cool Vine-Arbours shroud Us from the heat.  
Come: 'gainst the Beach let surly Billows beat.  Ly. 
Nay those I heard Thee singing one clear Night:  
The Tune I know, could I the words hit right,  Moe 
Why dost Thou, Daphnis, Ancient stars survey?  
Lo, Dionaean Caesar's doth display  
His clinquant Head, Corn-ears with Grain t'indue,  
And hil-bred Grapes with their ripe purple Hue!  
Imp Pear-Trees, Daphnis, for thy Nephews shall  
Gather the Pears. Time hurrieth with It All;  
Yea my frail Memory. I think how (a Boy)  
I spent in singing many a Summer's day.  
Those songs are now in deep Oblivion drowned.  
Impeached is Moeris hoarse obstructed sound.  
The Wolves saw Moeris First. At his Retreat,  
Oft shall Menalcas Them to Thee repeat.  Ly. 
Pretending scuses, Thou prolong'st our Loves;  
And Now no sea with justling Surges moves;  
The full-mouthed murmuring Gusts are silent, see!  
And halfway of our journey come are We:  
For you ' Bianor's Tomb his raised Top  
Begins to show. Here, where the Rurals lop  
Their Trees luxurious Boughs, let's carol: Here  
Lay down thy Kids: Or if perchance We fear  
Lest the Night gather Rain Before, We may  
Sing as We go; Less hurt Us will the Way.  
That We may do 't, Thee of this Load I'll ease.  Moe. 
More of Me, Boy, Now to desire surcease:  
Let's Rather to an end our Business bring;  
When He himself shall come We'll better sing.   

THE TENTH ECLOGVE. OR, GALLUS.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
Scorched with Idalian Flames; fond Gallus is  
Enamoured on the Strumpet Cytheris.  
THis last Piece grant Me, O kind Arethuse;  
Some Verses to my Gallus must Thou, Muse,  
(But such as let Lycoris read) rehearse;  
(Who unto Gallus would deny a Verse?)  
So under Sicil's Seas when thy Flood raves,  
May not Salt Doris mix her briny waves!  
Cupid-thrild Gallus, Loves begin to rouz,  
Whilst that the flat-nosed Goats the Tendrels brouz.  
Not to deaf Hearers We our Airs afford,  
The Ecco-ringing Woods our Words reword.  
What Groves embowered You, Virgin- Naiads,  
While Gallus perished by such Loves as these?  
For neither towering Pindus caused your stay,  
Nor Aganippe in Aonia.  
Nor yet Parnassus' spire. With one accord  
The Tamariks, the Laurels Him deplord:  
Beneath a lovely Rock reposing, thus  
Condold Lycaeus, Pine-clad Maenalus.  
The sheep surround Him prized in our Esteem,  
Nor Thou Them to be vainly slighted deem,  
O divine Poet: Even Adonis fair  
His sheep did pasture at the Rills with Care.  
The Shepherd tardy Cowherds thither drew;  
From gathering Winter Acorns did accrue  
Menalcas wet; And Then demand They All  
This fascinating Love's Original.  
Why art thou Frantic, Gallus, cries Apollo:  
For now thy Darling doth Another follow  
Through the Snow-shirted Alps, and horrid Camps.  
Next, pranked with Flowery Wreaths, Sylvanus ramps,  
And came with flowering Feruls in his hand,  
And great unsullied Lillies. Ruddy Pan,  
The God that sways Arcadia Then appeared,  
With Dane-wort Berries, and vermilion smeared,  
And (quoth He) will there be no Mean, nor measure?  
Such Griefs as these to slight Love takes a Pleasure.  
Nor Tears dire Love; Nor Streams that gently float  
Grass satiate; Cythisse, Bees; Nor leaves, the Goat.  
Yet thus He said, Arcadians, ye this Thing  
(To sing sole skilled) shall in your Mountains sing,  
What soft Repose shall Then my Bones enjoy,  
If your Pipe shall my Loves Hereafter play?  
And would to God I had been of your Crew  
To tend your Flock, or Vintager to You▪  
Were Phyllis, or Amyntas of Renown  
My Paramour (what though Amynt be Brown▪  
Black is the Hyacinth, and Violet)  
Beneath a Willow-married Vine We'd sit:  
Me Phyllis Chaplets (while Amynt did sing)  
Should gather. Here's a cool, and pleasant Spring,  
Here soft enamelled Meadows, Here a Grove,  
Here my whole Life, I'd spend with Thee, my Love.  
Now moody Cupid, 'mongst hard Wars Alarms,  
And hostile Troops detains Me, hemmed with Arms,  
Thou, hard Lycoris, from the Country far  
(May I, to give no credence to it, care)  
Without Me through the Alps, and Rhine dost trace.  
Let no cold hurt Thee, ah no keen ye raze  
Thy tender Feet! I'll go, those Lays that erst  
Composed were in Chalcidick Numbers First,  
I'll tune on the Sicilian shepherds Reed.  
For, rather in the Woods I have decreed  
My Mansion 'mong the wild Beasts dens to have,  
And in Trees tender Barks my Loves engrave:  
They shall increase: You, my Loves shall increase.  
'Bout Nymph-frequented Maenalus I'll chase,  
Or Boars intoil. Parthenian Lawns will I  
Begird (cold scorching) with the loud-mouthed Cry.  
Through Cliffs, and echoing Woods even Now to go  
I seem: Cydonian Flights from Parthian Bow  
I'll twang: As though This may my Fury cure,  
Or Cupid may to sympathise enure.  
But now again not Hamadryades,  
Nor Verses Themselves Us impatient please,  
Woods yield again; Our Toils Him cannot change.  
Though We through Thracian snow i'th' winter range,  
Though Then We drench our Lips in Hebrus Flood:  
Though when the Bark rives on the Elm We should  
Feed th' Aethiop's sheep, under the Crab adust.  
Love All subdues, and yield to Love We must.  
This that your Poet sung it shall suffice,  
Ye Muses, whilst He sitting Wickers ties.  
To Gallus make these Lays, Pierideses,  
Most dear: to Gallus, whose love doth increase  
To Me each hour as much, as in the Spring  
The Aldar sprours. Let's go, to such as sing  
The shade's offensive, the Iuniper's shade:  
And shades are hurtful, when they Fruits invade.  
Full-fed, my browzing Goats, go home, go home,  
For Night-reducing Hesper Now is come.  
FINIS.    

A SATYRICAL ESSAY, OR THE TWO FIRST SATYRS OF IWENAL ENGLISHED.  
BY JOHN BIDLE.  
Est aliquid prodire tenùs, si non datur ultra.  
LONDON. Printed I. L. 1634.   

THE EPISTLE.  
Marvel not, Readers, that I set before you but this Pittance: I was loath to cloy your Appetites at the first, knowing (on the one side) that men's quesy and squeamish stomaches relish better the poignant suckets of a Love-Sonnet, or the julips of a frothy Epigram, than a Homely (though wholesome) dish of Satirical stuff: And fearing withal (on t'other side) lest having cooked a great deal of this hard and sower-Meat ill, I might have so distasted a truly judicious palate, as to have made it even sick with Loathing, being not able by Reason of the Quality (much more the Quantity) without great annoyance, to concoct it. In this therefore (in cooking I mean) if I have greatly failed, I will willingly cry Peccavi, and herein offend no more: if not, (God helping) present you with the second and third course. In the meantime, Gentlemen, rest you consent.  
john Bidle.   


D. JUNIUS IWENAL, HIS FIRST satire.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
Our Author in his furious Breast  
Resolves, in like sort, to infest  
The tiring Poets of his Times,  
But with sharp-fanged Satiric Rhymes;  
Urged in this rough Career to prance,  
By Rome's debauched Inhabitan's:  
As shameless lewd Uiragoes First;  
Soft Nice-lings, and Informers cur'st;  
Pollers of Wards; Wife-selling Pimps;  
Will forgers, and Incestuous Imps;  
Chuffs; Dicers, with their Boven Lures;  
Excessive Builders; Epicures.  
WHat? shall I be a Hearer only still?  
And ne'er to counter tyre 'em try my Quill,  
With bawling Codrus vexed, & pestered Thus,  
His Poems, of the Gests of Thescus,  
So oft rehearsing, till He's hoarse again?  
Scot-free shall One troll out to Me amain,  
His curious smooth Latin Comedies?  
Another his soft amorous Elegies?  
And tired thus on each side, ne'er shall I?  
Scot free shall that Long tedious Tragedy  
Of Telephus, be all-day-long recited?  
Or that of mad Orestes, Fury-frighted,  
The Book of a huge Bulk; in Folio Writ;  
And (th' Margin full) Endorst; Nor ended yet?  
None better knows his House, than I the Grove  
Of dauntless Mars, sprung from the Strain of love;  
And thumping Vulcan's Forge, that doth o're-peere  
The seven AEolian rocky I lets near.  
What Pranks the whiffling Winds are wont to play;  
What Ghosts stern wracking AEacus doth pay;  
From whence Another steals the Golden Fleece,  
And bears It, through the surging Brine, to Greece;  
What great Wild-ashes Monychus, in Fight,  
Vp-rives, and darts against the Lapithite,  
Muse-fostring Frontoes walks his Or-thards round,  
Seeled with broad-spreading Planetrees, still resound.  
And's Roof's even shiverd down with oft Repeating,  
And Marble Columns with the daily Beating  
Of yelling Poets cries even broke, record,  
As if th' had conned it over every Word.  
The Dogbolt Poet, and the Artist Rare  
On the same subject Descant every where.  
And We from th' Fcrule have our Hand with drawn  
And We, declaiming Feigned Themes have ta'en,  
And counselled Sylla, his vast Reach confined,  
And's troublesome Dictatorship resigned,  
Unto a Private Life to buckle Then,  
And sleep secure. 'Tis foolish Pity, when  
You meet so many Poets every where,  
A little worthless paper for to spare.  
But why I Rather list This Race to run,  
Raked by Arunca's Noble Foster-son:  
If you at Leisure be, and like it well;  
And of a Reason will admit, I'll tell.  
When a soft Eunuch with a Wife shall mix;  
When lewd Froes (such as Maevia) shall transfix  
The Tuscan Boar upon the Stage, and Bear,  
With naked Dugs, a Steel-tipt Hunting-spear;  
When one base Scoundrel, Now out-vyes, Himself,  
All the Patricians with his ill got Pelf,  
Who whilom oft with snipping Sissers sheard,  
When I was in my Prime, my cumbrous Beard;  
When that Egyptian Peasant, (Now so soft)  
That Vassal of Canopus, Crispin, oft  
Calls back his Purple Cloak, and at It chides,  
That with the Heft still from his shoulders slides;  
And waves his sweeting Fingers too and fro,  
His light, thin-plated, Summer-Rings to show,  
Nor can (for sooth) endure the ponderous Fraight,  
Of a Gem, in his Ring, of greater weight!  
It is a hard thing not to Satyrize.  
For who's so stupid, (when he casts his Eyes  
On such deboistness in Rome every where)  
So steely-hearted, that he can forbear?  
When that Guts, Matho, (of an Advocate,  
Turned a Promoter Now) is grown of Late  
Lo Rich that He in his New Litter rides,  
Full with his strutting Panch, and burly sides:  
And after Him when That Arch-Sycophant,  
The Poller of the Greatest Peers, doth flaunt,  
That soon of precious Life will All deprive,  
Of the devoured Nobleses that survive;  
Whom even the base Delator Massa fears;  
To whom the Pickthank Carus Presents bears;  
At whom Latinus shudders, and for Hire,  
(To stop his mouth) even plays the Apple-Squire,  
And prostitutes to Him his own dear Wife,  
Lest He accuse Him should, and take his Life.  
When They disherit Thee, the Lawful Heir,  
Who in the Will invest Them-selves, by their  
Night Service; Who soon up to Wealth, and power,  
This Way (the best Now to Promotion) tower,  
Even by fulfilling the Obsene delights,  
Of rich Old women's Itching Appetites:  
To Proculeius one twelfth Part's assigned,  
But unto Gillo the eleventh behind;  
In the Inheritance every One doth share,  
As They by prudent Nature furnished are:  
Well, much good it Him with his Lot (for me)  
And let Him, all his Blood exhausted, be  
With such a meager Paleness still possessed,  
As He that with bare Heels a Snake hath pressed;  
Or th' Orator in the strict Solemn Game  
At the Lugdunian Altar to Declaim.  
What need I to relate with how great Ire  
My dry, chafed, glooming Liver's set on Fire?  
When that base Termagant doth proudly strut,  
And press the People with the mighty Rout  
Of his Retinue, that his person guards,  
That rose to this vast Pour by Pilling Wards,  
Whom Now Ill-tempting Need doth even constrain  
Their lives by Prostitution to sustain:  
And Marius, who into Exile went,  
Condemned in vain (for what's Disparagement.  
If a Man's money still remaineth safe?)  
Now eftsoons, after eight of clock, doth quaff,  
And's Genius cheers more, than Before, by Odds,  
And makes a Booty of the Angry Gods:  
But Thou, victorious Province, polled sore,  
Thy un-reprized Pillage dost deplore.  
These shall I not think worthy to be jerkt,  
And with a Venusinian satire yerked,  
That smells o'th' Lamp? Shall I not Ferret These?  
Why Rather should the Toils of Hercules,  
Or Diomedes Fowl-transformed Men,  
Or bellowing Minocaure engross my Pen?  
The Sea drenched Boy, or that acquaint Artisan,  
That did the Air with selfe-framed Pinions fan?  
When a base Pimp th' Adult'rer's Goods inherits,  
(If his Wife cannot by her Filthy Merits)  
That his Crafts-Master is upright to lie,  
And rivet on the Ceiling still his Ey;  
And, feigning Him well whittled, to repose,  
And Then snore sound with a routing Nose:  
When he dares canvas for a Regiment,  
That hath his Goods, in Pampering Horses, spent;  
Who wastes his Ancestor's Demeans away,  
While with swift Coach he rakes Flaminia:  
For young Automedon the Palfreyes' reand,  
When as He, vaunting, did Himself commend,  
Unto his cloak-invellopt Paramour.  
Why, prithee, should I Now not bend my Power,  
And fill large Tables in a four-way Leet?  
When a proud Princox Lords it through the street,  
Perched on six Shoulders, to the fleeting Air  
On each side open, in a naked Chair,  
Even mating soft Maecenas Garb; that came  
Unto this gallant Pomp, this Wealth, and Fame,  
By Little forged Wills, and Testaments,  
And his wet Signet, that the Wax indents.  
While further I proceed in Sin's Survey,  
A powerful Matron meets Me in the Way,  
Who to her thirsty Husband 'bout to skink  
A Cup of luscious Galene Wine, to drink,  
It with a Land-Toads baneful Venom blends,  
And Counsel to her Ruder Neighbours lends,  
(Than that Locusta erst b'ing better skilled)  
Their Husbands with a Poisonous Potion killed,  
Forthwith to carry their black Corpse's out,  
Though it be known, and bruited by the Rout.  
If e'er Thou meanest to Thrive, some Fact assail  
Short Gyaros deserving, and the jail:  
Praised Virtue sits, and blows her Nails for Cold.  
To heinous Crimes they owe, whatever they hold,  
To Them engaged for their Wealthy State,  
Their Hort-yards, Manors, Tables Antique Plate,  
And embossed Goblets, on whose massy Sides  
Stands Phryxus Emblem that the Goat bestrides.  
Whom suffers the Ineestuous Lecher vile,  
That his own Brother's Daughter doth defile,  
(With Money precorrupted) for to sleep,  
And's Pen from writing touchy Satyrs keep?  
Whom Male-Brides filthy, and Cupidian Boys,  
That learn lewd Courtship, yet their childish Toys,  
And Purple guarded Coats are laid aside?  
If the Ill Genius of a Man denied,  
Even Indignation would make Verses Than,  
So, so, as I, or Cluvienus can.  
Since that Deucalion, (the Rest drenched in Rain)  
Embarking on the Showr-incensed Main,  
Bi-topt Parnassus in a Friggot wrought,  
And Themis Oracle devoutly sought;  
And softened Stones, ensould by vital Heat  
'Gan quicken by Degrees, and Cold defeat;  
And Pyrrha showed her Maids (enlived Stones)  
To the Males likewise sprung from Tellus Bones:  
men's Actions whatsoever, Fond desire,  
Vain Pleasure, Panic Fear, Revengeful Ire,  
False glozing joys, and fruitless speeches, look,  
Are even the hotch-potcht Subject of our Book.  
And when had all deboistness e'er more Scope?  
When lay a greater Receptacle open  
To the Prodigious Sin of Avarice,  
Than in our Times? when did damned cheating Dice  
E'er reign o'er Human Beasts with greater Sway?  
For Now, not little Bags, to go to play  
A Sett at Tables, do our Gamesters take,  
But a whole Coffer, crammed with money, stake.  
What Bick'rings you'll see with the Steward There,  
His Master's Squire (forsooth,) that does prepare  
His Implements, and Dicing Equipage.  
Infuriated with a Simple Rage  
Art Thou, lewd Spendthrift, for to lose no Less,  
At Mumchance, than an hundred Sesterces,  
And not, for Wretchedness, to spare a Groat  
towered buying of thy quivering Groom a Coat?  
Which of our Grandsires did, in Elder days,  
So many costly, sumptuous Manors raise?  
Which, by Himself Alone, at one Repast,  
Did with seven Dishes feast his dainty Taste?  
But in the Lobby, Now a little Maund,  
To be snatched by the Gowned Rout, doth stand;  
Yet First he in thy Face doth stare, and dread  
Lest Thou, false named, come in Another's stead.  
If known, Thou shalt Receive. He summons Then  
By a shrill Cryer, even the Noblemen,  
That vaunt Themselves sprung from the Trojan Strain,  
For They infest the Lobby with our Train.  
Give to the Praetor, to the Tribune give  
They yell aloud, and cry. But by your leave,  
Room for a Libertine your Better, Here  
(Quoth He) I am, your Better. Should I fear,  
Or doubt for to defend, and keep my Place,  
Though great Euphrates Verge my Birth embase,  
Which the soft Loopholes in my ear imply,  
Although I stiffly should the same deny?  
But my five Taverns in the Forum here,  
Yield Me a Knight's Revenues every Year,  
What greater Boon confers the Purple Vest,  
(The Badge of Knighthood) if Corvinus pressed  
By Need, turns Hireling, and Another's Sheep  
Doth in the Champains of Laurentum keep?  
With a far richer State endowed am I,  
Than wealthy Pallas, and the Lucini;  
Now therefore let the Tribunes wait a space:  
Let Riches bear the Bell! nor Him give place  
To sacred Honour, that, prized at a Rate,  
With white chalked Feet came to this City Late!  
Sith Powerful Riches Now Majestic sit,  
Amongst Us deemed Divine, although, as yet,  
Thou, baneful Money, dwellest not in a Fane;  
As yet, by Us un-godded dost remain,  
Nor have we any Altars reared to Thee,  
As unto Peace, Faith, Virtue, Victory,  
And Concord, on whose Temple, with the Beak  
The Storks, their Nests saluting, loudly creak.  
But when, at the years End the States do count,  
To what the Profit of the 
* Sportula opposita caenae recta.  Maund doth mount;  
How much it doth to their Revenues add:  
What shall poor Clients do, that Hence are glad  
To fetch the shoes They wear, and Hence their Cloak;  
Hence Bread, and Wood to make the Chimney smook.  
The Nobles, clustering, in their Litters stand,  
And crowd together thick to beg a Maund.  
The faint Wife, ready to be brought a Bed,  
Her Husband follows, and about is led.  
One, Suttle, for his absent Wife a Part  
Demandeth will, a well known trick of Art,  
For his Wife showing a close empty Couch;  
Then to the Almer doth the same avouch,  
And quick dismiss me, 'Tis my Galla, cries;  
Why stayest thou thus, and dallist; He replies?  
Lift, Galla, up thy head; Advance thy Crest:  
When strait th' Impostor, Peace, She takes her rest  
Our Roman Gentry with a rare survey,  
And exact order, can dispose the day!  
For, first to crave a Maund betimes they go;  
Then, to Augustus' Court of Plea; And so,  
Unto the Lawyers Haunt, Apollo's shrine,  
Where the Triumphal clinquant statues shine,  
Mongst which, I know not what Egyptian slave,  
And Arch- Arabian durst his Image have,  
Not only worthy to be well bepissed,  
But— The Old weary Clients then, dismissed  
Depart the Lobby, with a Maund content,  
(That for a Supper hoped before they went)  
And with it (for they quite despair again)  
To buy 'em Wood, and Cole words last are fain,  
Mean while the choicest Sea fish, at his Board,  
The choicest Venison that the Woods afford,  
Their Kingly Patron rich doth gourmandize,  
And by Himself on his Bed empty lies:  
For of so many Fair, so Old, and Large,  
They but one Table still with Viands charge,  
Their Patrimonies there devouring quite.  
There will be now no Smell-feast Parasite.  
But who ' I endure those base Luxurious Chusses?  
What's He, who, when his stanchlesse Maw he Stuffs,  
Whole Brawns before him sets (Prodigious thing!)  
A Creature only made for Banqueting?  
But Thou dost quickly for thy Ravening pay:  
For when Thou, stripped, down thy Robes dost lay,  
And to the Bath within thy strutting Panch  
(The which so many Cates before did staunch)  
An undigested Peacock's Flesh dost bring,  
Hence sudden Deaths, and Age Incestate spring.  
A Now (nor Baleful) Fame is bruited, Beast;  
Of thy untimely Death at every Feast.  
And thy last Funeral Solemnity  
Is by thy moody Friends performed with Glee.  
There will be no Offence, no Crime so bad,  
That After-Age can to our Manners add!  
Our Nephews will the same desire and do.  
All Vice is at the Highest Pitch! Go too,  
Launch, Bully, launch, and all thy Sails display;  
Ply nipping Satyrs. Here, per chance you'll say,  
Whence, prithee, wilt thou have such Wit, and Art,  
That's correspondent to so hard a Part?  
Whence th' Ancients Liberty (their Minds to write,  
And, what their Fury prompted, to recite:)  
(I say) The Ancients downright Liberty,  
Whose Name I dare not Now to specify?  
What mattered it at all, if Mutius, Tho,  
Forgave Lucilius biting Taunts, or No?  
But Now debaushed Tigellistus note,  
And Then, invellopt with a Rozened Coat,  
Thou shalt be kindled for a Taper-Light,  
Like Them, with transsixt Throats that blaze by Night,  
And in the middle of the Tragic sand,  
A broad Trench dig'em, and there burning stand.  
Shall He Then, that with baneful Aconite,  
Three Uncles poisoned, and dispatcht'em quite,  
Upon a Down-stuft Couch be mounted high,  
And overlook Us with a scornful Ey?  
Yes; If he chance to meet Thee in the Way,  
Strait with thy Finger stop thy lips, I say:  
For if it happen but one Word run o'er,  
There will be an Appeacher; St, no more.  
Thou safely mayest adventure to rehearse  
AEneas Stowr with the Rutilian Fierce:  
Achilles Story, how he got his End,  
Transsixt by Paris Dart, doth no● offend:  
Or much-sought Hylas, that so soon was quenched,  
And with his Pitcher in the Fountain drenched.  
As oft as wood Lucilius, as it were,  
With his drawn Elbow Thundered, strait for fear,  
The Hearer flushes, whose Heart's cold with Sin;  
With Secret Gild his Fivers sweat within.  
Hence theyare so testy, and for Anger Whine.  
Perpend Thou therefore this Advice of mine,  
Before th' Alarm: Who hath his Murrain hent,  
He too-late of the Duel doth repent.  
Well Then what's granted 'gainst Those, I'll assay,  
Interred i'th' Latin, and Flaminian way.   

D. JUNIUS IWENAL HIS SECOND satire.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
False glozing Stoics naked Stripped;  
Their tapessed sins unmasked, and whipped.  
Obscene abused Cat amites.  
Soft judges. Base Hermaphrodites.  
Face-Farthing Otho quipt; his Error  
In too much Gazing on his Mirror.  
The Gracchis (that not orious Pair)  
Unvizored, and well-scourged are:  
The First, for his Man. Marriage, vexed;  
For Fencing on the Stage the Next.  
He shows the source, from whence arise  
All such uncouth Impieties,  
To be, 'cause men believe no Hell.  
Then does Rome's vast Ambition tell,  
And jerkes, with It, her soft-growne State  
That Strangers did effeminate.  
I Hence from Rome will post, with speedy Motion,  
Beyond the Sauromates, and frozen Ocean:  
When Sacred Manners are the Chat of Those,  
Who, seeming Cury, live like Bacchus' Froes.  
First are your Artless Pedants: though at Home  
They have Chrysippus' Image made of Lome  
In every Creek, and Corner. For sole He,  
Of these Men, the exactest feign will be,  
That can the Life-like Statues show to Us,  
Of Aristotle, and Sage Pittacus.  
And (●s Megazin of Books to guard) that sets  
Cleanthes and the Stoics Counterfeits.  
The Front's a cozening Mirror: For what street  
Is not with Obscene Cato's now replete?  
None more comptrols Effeminacy, than  
The most notorious soft Socratian.  
Rough Limbs, and Arms all-bristled o'er with Hair.  
Are the plain Badges of a Mind severe:  
But in thy smooth Posteriors, full of Biles,  
The smiling Leech doth lance the swelling Piles.  
These men have seal'd-up Lips, and take great Pride,  
In silence and demurnesse; yea, beside  
Than knotted Hair doth not their Eyebrow buss:  
And therefore debauched Teribonius  
Is in a far more tolerable state;  
His Nature to Malignant Stars, and Fate  
I justly do impute, whose very colour,  
And lazy Gate are Symptoms of his Dolour.  
Such men's simplicity should Us excite  
To Sympathy, and Ruth; Their Passion's might  
Doth plead Them Guiltless: But far worse are They  
Who with Herculean Thundering Taunts inveigh  
'Gainst these Delinquents, and of Virtue prate  
Amid their base Venereous Cringes. What?  
For fear of thy dread presence shall I thiver,  
While thy Posteriors do obscenely quiver?  
Or, Sext us, am I one jot worse than Thee,  
Quoth loose Varillus of known jufamy?  
Straight let Him be, that mocks a wry-legged Man;  
White, that derides an AEthiopian.  
The Graccbi plaining fore of Garboils near,  
And Innovation, who can brook to hear?  
Who would not, with confusion blending All,  
Cry out; Heavens! Earth, and Seas! when Verres shall,  
(The Archest Land shark) be displeased with Thiefs;  
At Homicides when th' Hackster Milo grieves;  
The most Notorious lecher Clodius,  
Empleads Adulterers; When Cethegus;  
(The Boutefeu) 's accused by Catiline;  
When three like bloody Tyrants shall (in fine)  
Tax Sylla's Table of Proscription?  
In which list was Vespasian's Lustful Son,  
Whose Coiture, and late-Adultery,  
Might be the subject of a Tragedy:  
Who calling back the Inlian Law severe,  
All, nay (Mars and his Leman thrilled with Fear:  
From Julia's fruitful (but too son-laid) womb,  
When so many Abortives forth did come;  
And from Her issued, (in lieu of son)  
(Right like their Uncle) shapeless Embryous.  
Therefore do not the most deboist, by right,  
Yea even the vicious in the Abstract, slight  
These glozing Sca●r●, Who of sin complain.  
And, bit by their Invectives, snap again?  
Late one of these Abuse-Comptrolers proud  
Laronia brooked not, as he yield aloud,  
Retreating, where art thou Julian Law?  
Fallen in a lethargy? with smiling Aw  
Who thus acoasts Him; O thrice-happy Age,  
Whose Manners Gross are checked by such a Sage!  
Let Rome (erst Impudent) Now blush c'offend:  
A third sour Cato doth from heaven descend!  
But whence, Sir, do the jushious Unguents come?  
Whence is this odoris'rous Balsamum  
(In thy rough hairy Neck that swells so) brought?  
Tell of what seller of Perfumes 'twas bought.  
But if the sleep-drownd Laws be roused, Than,  
Above All, ought the sharp Scantinian.  
First canvas Men in your strict Scrutinies:  
More palpable are their Enormities:  
But their Vast Number doth Them safely shield,  
And their close Files with Target Fencers stield.  
Amongst those Rybaulds there is great Consent;  
But no such detestable Precedent  
Shall in our Sex be found: Even Taedia  
(That Trull) doth never Abuse Cluvia:  
Nor Flora (that lewd Quean) Catulla Wrong  
With th' obscene Actions of her beastly Tong.  
Hispo's a Pathic, and diseased no less  
With Passive, than with Active Filthiness.  
Do e'er we Women wrangling causes plead?  
Do We the Civill-Lawes peruse, and read?  
Or in your strife-full Courts e'er scold, and brawl?  
Still at your Tourneys, Few (or None at all)  
Virago-like do combat; Few do eat  
The Doughty Wrestlers sole-allotted Meat.  
Ye Card Wool, and re-carry back in Mands  
The well-wrought Webb; Ye nimbly with your hands  
Rowl the Thred-swelling Spindle, Quicker yea  
Than feat Arachne, or Penelope.  
Like to the Squalid Spinster, by her Dame  
Doomed to the Clog for being Tardy ta'en.  
Why wealthy Hister made his Denizen,  
In's Will sole Heir of all his Goods, 'tis known;  
Why with great Largesses He, in his Life,  
Rewarded still his untouched Virgin-Wife.  
Raised shall She be to Wealth, and Dignity,  
That in a Pathick's Pallet Third doth lie.  
This way to Thrive I thee will only teach,  
Mary but such a One, and ne'er Appeach.  
Rich Pendants guerdon oft such secrecy.  
On Us a heavy Doom is past, and We  
Meanwhile do smart it; The Laws partial are,  
That silly Doves infest, and Crows forbear.  
These daunted Stoics from Laronia slung,  
While such Apparent Truths She boldly sung:  
For who can burden her with Forgeries?  
What will not others dare to enterprise,  
When Thou invellopt art, soft Creticus,  
In Robes of Tassetie Diaphanous  
And (though the Rout doth fleer at this thy Vest)  
In it to Death Thou Harlot's sentencest,  
As poor Polinea, and Procula.  
A Whore's Fabulla, and Carfinia,  
Condemn 'em (if Thou list;) yet ne'er will They,  
Condemned, invest Themselves in such Array.  
But Sun-burned July Sir, most torrid is,  
And I even swelled with Heat. I grant you This  
Then plead starknaked: 'Tis a seemlier thing  
To be a Madman, than a Wantonling.  
A Garb past all compare! in which thou clad,  
And promulgating Laws (so Life They had)  
Even deign to hear the Ancient Romans might,  
Returning Victors from some horrid Fight  
All gashed, and mangled; And those Mountainers,  
Their Ploughs forsaking, and their Tillage-Cares!  
What would you not exclaim, a judge to see  
So trapped? I demand if A affetie  
Become a Witness? Thou undaunted art,  
A Patriot stout: yet every Limb, and Part  
May be discerned (to thy great disgrace)  
Through the small crannies of thy pory Case.  
'Tis other Loose Men's foul Contagion  
Hath staunched thy Life, and further yet will run;  
Like as one Scabbed Sheep a Flock infects;  
One scurvy Swine a whole Heard's Health rejects;  
And from sight of one perished Grape that's blue,  
Another Grape contracts the selfsame Hue.  
E'er long thou'lt Villainies attempt, and dare,  
Than those soft Vestments more flagitious far.  
None forwith e'er extremely wicked grew.  
Thee, by degrees, into their filthy crew  
The throng of Dapper softlings will admit,  
Who 'bout their Fronts at Home do Bonnets knit,  
Their Necks adorning with deft Carquinets;  
And (like the Froes, that with Sow's tender Tears  
Appease their Bona dea) screened in Night's  
Black collied Mantle, do their beastly Rites  
To the Virago; but invert the Guise,  
And Women thence cashier, and chase with Cries,  
Who dare not to the guarded Lobby venture?  
This sacred Temple may Men only enter;  
Hence, Profane Women, Hence, They loudly bawl;  
No Cornets Clangor howleth Here at all;  
Such Orgies did those Priests Effeminate,  
Erst with Night-burning Tapers celebrate,  
Want with their Antique Rounds (obscenely merry)  
Cecropian Cocytto even to weary.  
He with wet Cole-sleck all his eyebrow smears;  
Then curls in curious sort the collowed Hairs  
With a neat Crisping Pin, and lifting up  
His twinkling Eyes, doth fard'em In a Cup  
Of Glass, proportioned like a Virile Wand,  
He drinks, and in a Call (with curious Hand  
Made all of ductill Gold) his Head he dresses,  
Fareed with the Trammels of his braided Tresses;  
In Watchet Robes invested, finely wrought  
With Cob-web-worke, and in a Whitish Coat  
Smooth-shorn, and thin, his very Groom (beside)  
Swearing by Juno in a wanton Pride.  
In's Hand Another carr's a Looking glass,  
(Erst Otho's, born in lieu of Royal Mace)  
And It, no less triumphing, doth advance,  
Than Turnus, when he brandished Actor's Lance.  
In which He viewed Himself in Harness standing,  
And His the standards to erect commanding.  
In newmade Registers, and a Fresh story  
To be recorded is this Mirror's Glory,  
Part of the Baggage of the Civil War!  
Galba to stay, was like a Chiestain Rare,  
And woman-like (forsooth) with curious Art  
His Skin to Fucusse, was a Heroe's part!  
To bicker sharply, at Brebriacum,  
For Empire of great Pallace-famed Rome.  
And spread on's Face Bread soaked in Ass' Milk,  
To sleek the skin, and make't as soft as silk!  
When Quiver-wearing loose Semramis  
Did never in Assyria practise This;  
Nor Cleopatra, in her base Retreat  
From fatal Actium, sad for her defeat.  
All kind of rybauld Talk, and filthy words,  
Are Here the parley at their very Board's:  
To speak obscurely Here, and make a Noise  
With an affected wanton, lisping Voice,  
Hath the same Liberty, as erst among  
Base Phrygian Cybele's lascivious Throng;  
And the old dotard, with a hoary Head,  
Their Archpriest, Spirit-rapt, and extased,  
May for his ravening paunch. (ne'er cloyed with meat)  
Of Gurmandizers be sole termed the GREAT;  
And is well worthy to be hired, to be  
Their Provost with an Ample Salary.  
But why yet linger These, and daily thus,  
Whom (like those Phrygian Priests Venereous)  
It is high time Themselves to evirate,  
Sith they are Now grown quite Effeminate?  
The Pathic Gracchus (like a Virgin-Bride)  
(As I think) to a Fluter erst affide,  
A Trumpeter he was else (I assure ye)  
Gave forty Sesterces to him for dowry.  
In short, the Nuptial Tables both were signed;  
To this great Volleys of loud shouts were joined  
All crying out to Both, God give ye joy!  
Large dishes, charged with Viands, in a Ray  
Were set upon the Tabler; This New Bride  
Lay dandling in her Husband's Lap beside.  
O Peers! Of Censours, to Reform with speed,  
Or of soothsayers have We greater need  
T' Atone such foul portentous Crimes as This?  
Wouldst thinke'em more stupendious Prodigies,  
And shudder more, to see a Cow to a Lamb,  
Or to a Calf a Woman prove a dam?  
Long purfled stoles, and Scarves of Crimson Die  
Now habit Him, whose Neck beseemingly  
With short Round scutcheons was still charged of yore,  
Which Thong-tyed, nodding with the Weight he bore,  
And the Morisco danced, till (chafed with Heat)  
He parboiled all his Limbs in scalding sweat.  
O Mars, dread Father of all-crushing Rome!  
Whence have the Latian upland shepherds come  
To this stupendious Height of Wickedness?  
Whence hath such tickling Lust (like Nettles) these  
Thy bastardising Nephews touched, and slung?  
For lo a Man, whose Fame for Riches rung;  
Who was ennobled by his royal Line,  
Doth (against Nature) with a Man combine!  
And dost not (for all This) thy Murrain shake,  
Nor cause the Earth, struck with thy Lance, to quake  
And, nettled with most horrid Indignation,  
To thy fire love complain in furious Fashion?  
Avaunt Then; leave thy Tilt. yard (erst severe)  
Which Thou neglectest Now, devoid of care.  
To Morrow, when Sol First shall mount his Car,  
And Heaven's Career to Gallop Him prepare,  
I must unto Quirinus' Temple wend,  
For I've engaged my service to a Friend.  
Pray what's the cause (quoth One) of your Vagary?  
When strait Another, Why d'ye make Enquiety,  
As though You know not? His Friend married is  
Unto a Man, and with a Few, (for This)  
'Tis shuffled up: But, if you live, you'll see  
Such Nuptials solemnised openly,  
And in the Public Registers enrolled.  
Mean while great Teen these Male-Brides hearts doth hold,  
Because They cannot (be They ne'er so fain)  
Bring forth, and so their Husbands still retain.  
But Nature well provided that our minds  
Should not our Bodies change to other Kind's.  
These cannot be with-childed, therefore They  
Must barren die, and ne'er their Bellies lay;  
Nor yet no pouting hus pust Lydian Dame  
With her Receipts can remedy the same:  
Nor would it profit, though their Palms they had  
By Pan's you're running Priests well ferulaed.  
But Gracchus in a sleeveless Coat bedight,  
(His Gown discarded) hath outstripped quite  
This uncouth monster with his Trident, and  
Turned Fencer, erst did scour the spacious Sand,  
O'er come, and chased by his pursuing Fo-man  
(I say) the Scoundrel Gracchus, No● a common  
Net-casting Fencer, whose high Royal strain  
Dimmed with its Lustre all the clinquant train  
Of Capitol-preserving Manlius.  
The stout Marcelli, Great-souled Catulus,  
And life-contemning Paulus doughty Brood;  
Th' Heroic Fabies all of Noble Blood  
And all the Senators, with every Peer  
Placed in the Fore-ranke of the Theatre;  
Though I should add to These the Praetor too,  
The Fencing-Nets to cast that hired him tho.  
That there are any grizly, hideous Ghosts;  
Realms under ground in Hel's black Ebon Coasts;  
And a long shoving Pole (grim Charon's Oar;)  
And black Frogs swimming in the Stygian Moor,  
And that so many thousand souls do float.  
And stem that Sable Sound in one small Boat;  
Men, nay even Boys themselves (unless they be  
No higher than three Horse-loaves, nor a Fee  
E'er to the Bath-guide did for Batting pay)  
Are so far from Believing Now, that They  
But Silly Old wives Fables do esteem 'em,  
And children's Bugs, and Scare-crows only deem'em  
But do Thou count 'em ' true; What dost suppose  
Stern Curius thinks, and the Two Scipio's?  
What grave Fabricius, and Camillus Ghost?  
What all the Fabies, that Patrician Host,  
Quite routed at the Verge of Cremera?  
And all the Roman Fry, whose Corpses lay  
So thick, that Cannae's field was paved quite?  
What the souls of so many slain in Fight,  
As oft as any such polluted Ghost  
As this, descends Hence to their hallowed Coast?  
Sure They would eftsoons to be purged desire  
With Sulphur (might they have't) and Sacred Fire;  
With fat Pine-Tapers, and a cleansing Spray,  
To sprinkle Holywater, made of Bay.  
Alas, We (Whether we believe't, or no)  
To the Infernal Kingdoms needs must go!  
We have (Indeed) our Guydons born beyond  
The Late-ta'n Orcads, and Hibernian strand;  
And sea-clapt Britan's whose light Hemi-sphere  
Is with Night's sable shrouds scarce curtained e'er.  
But the Prodigious sins, which We, at Home,  
(Triumphant Victors) do commit in Rome,  
Those whom We have surprised, and triumph o'er  
(Sole conquerors indeed) to do abhor.  
But yet One, loose Armenian Zalates,  
Softer than striplings All, unnerved by Ease,  
Was (as 'twas bruited, and by all men said)  
The Lust-inflamd Tribune's Ganymed.  
See what commerce will do! he came to Rome  
As a good, simple Hostage did become.  
Here they are made Men! But if longer stay  
These Foreign Lands make in our City, They  
Shall ne'er want a corrupting Paramour.  
Their slops, Knives, Bridles, switches swopt with our  
Loose Garbles, the Pretext Manners soft away  
They will bear with them to Artaxata.  
FINIS.