French an idea os pastoral romance, hat copied thia thought of our author; and, indeed, it becter suited such languid unnatural compositions as the .Mt rci, than the serious sensibility os the elegiac muse.

Ver. II. OSowley hat imitated thia; or rather, such conceits were in his way.

How happy here, should I
And one dear she, live, and embracing die;
She who it all the world, and can exclude

From deserts, solitude.
I should have then this only fear,
Lest men, when they my pleasure fee,
Should hither throng to live like me,
And so make a city here.

How much more truly does Prior represent the contentment which lovers feel in one another's company?

My conqueror now, my lovely Abra held
My freedom in her chains; my heart was sill'd
With her ; with her alone, in her alone
It fought its peace and joy; while she was gone,

It ligh'd and griev'd, impatient of her stay; "1 Rcturn'd, she chas'd those sighs, that grief away; ( Her absence made the night, her presence made C the day. J

The pastoral writers often ascribe still greater force to the charms os their Galateas and Phyllises, perhaps very impertinently.

Ver. is- Thus finely imitated by Croxal:

Were I invited to a nectar feast
In heaven, and Venus nani'd me for her guest;
Though Mercury the messenger should prove,
Or her own son, the mighty god of love;
At the same instant let but honest Tom
From Sylvia's dear terrestrial lodging come,
With look important fay—" desires—at three,

I" Alone—your company—to drink some tea."
Though Tom were mortal, Mercury divine,
Though Sylvia gave me water, Venns wine; [far
Though heaven was here, and Bow-street lay at
As the vast distance of the utmost star;
To Sylvia's arms with all my strength I'd fly;

I Let who would meet the beauty of the sky.

Soifi of the best modern commentators contend, that the little poems which compose this fourth book, are not the work of Tibullus. Their chief arguments are derived from the language and sentiment; in both which.it is said,and with more justice than is common on such occaGons, that they bear no resemblance to our poet's productions.

But if the following little pieces are not the compoCtion of Tibullus, to whom shall we impute them? Shall we, with Caspar Barthius, and Broekhufius, ascribe them to Sulpicia, the wife cf Calenus, who flourished in the reign of Domitian r This opinion is by no means improbable, for we know from Martial and hidonius Apolinaris, that Sulpicia was eminent in tbose days for her poetry.

Omnes Sulpiciam legant purll.c,
Uni qua: cupiunt virn placere.
Omnes Sulpiciam legant mariti,
Uni qui cupiunt placere nupts.
Non hjee Colchidot adseru furorem,
Diri prandia nrc rcsert Thyesta:;
Scyllam, Byblida, nec suisse credit;
Sed catoi doect & piosamorcs,
1 u us, dejicias, facetiasque.
Cujus carmina qui bene zstimarit,
Nullam dixerit esse nequiorem,
Nuliam dixerit essc sauctiorem.

Tales egregiæ jocos suisse.

Udo crediderim Numæ sub antro.

Hac condiscipula, vcl hac magistra

Esses doctior & pudica Sappho:

Sed tecum paritcr simulque visam

Durus Sulpiciam Phaon amarct.

Fruftra: namque ea nec Tonantis uxor,

Nec Bacchi, nec Apollinis puclU,

Erepto sibi viverct Caleno.

, Mart. Lit. x. Ep. 35.

But to this proof, it is objected by Vulpius, that as the following pieces are of a strain different from those celebrated by Martial, so they could not be written by the wise of Calenus, but are Tibullus's; and that the Sulpicia they praise, was the daughter of Serviu* Sulpicius, the famous lawyer, some of whose epistles to Cicero, are still extant: Fur, flie who is called Sulpicia in this book, adds he, certainly lived in the reign of Augustus, as Horace himself mentions Cerinthus, and Messala is named in the eighth poem. To this ic may be answered, that it cannot be proved, that Sulpicia had never been in love before she married Calenus; or had never composed any other poems, besides those of the conjugal kind, so much extolled" by Martial? Nay, have we not our own testimony, that she wtote some thousands of pieces?

Cetera quin ctiam, quot denique millia lust '.

1 these are the natural emanations of a heated fancy and a distracted heart. But the poem* before us abound in what the moderns denominate gallant flattery. Most of them show the poet and happy lover. They give us lit tre anecdotes of their passion, and make us regret we have Ho more.

FOEM t.

GrREAT god of war ! Sulpicia, lovely maid,

l o grace your calends, is in pomp array'J.

f beauty warm* you, quit th' etherial height,

\'en Cytherea will indulge the sight:

iut while you gaze o'er all her matchless charms,

Beware your hands should meanly drop your arms!

iVhen Cupid would the gods with love surprise.

lights his torches at her radiant eyes. \ secret grace her every act improves, ^nd pleasing follows wheresoe'er she moves: If) f loose her hair upon her bosom plays; Jnnunmber'd charms that negligence betrays: )r if "tis plaited with a labour'd care, llike the labmir'd plaits become the fair. Vhether rich Tyrian robes her charms invest, •r all in snowy white the nymph is drest, ill, all she graces, still supremely fair, till charms spectators with a fond despair. i thousand dresses thus Vertumnus wears, ind beauteous equally in each appears. ao

The richest tints and deepest Tyrian hue, "othee, O wonderous maid! are solely due:

0 thee th' Arabian husbandman should bring
"he spicy produce of his eastern spring:
"hitever gems the swarthy Indians hi.ast,
rbtir shelly treasures, and their golden coast,
Hone thou merit'st! come, ye tuneful choir!

<nd come, bright PWœbus! with thy plausive lyre!

"his solemn festival harmonious praise,

'o theme so much deserves harmonious lays. 30

POEM II.

Whether, fierce churning boars! in meads ye stray,

•r haunt the shady mountain's devious way; Vhct not your tusks, my lovM Cerinthus Ipare!

Cupid! 1 consign him to your care. Vhat madness'tis, fliaijg'd trackless wilds to bear, Ind wound, with pointed thorns, your tender

feet:

O ! why to savage beasts your charms oppose? •'• 'th toils and bipod-hounds why their haunts en

close? * rhe lust of game decoys you far away; Ife blood-hounds perish, and ye toils decay! 10

Yet, yet could 1 with lov'd Cerinthus rove through dreary desarts, and the thorny grove:

1 he cumbrous meshes on my shonlders bear, And face the montten with my barbed spear;

Thans, II.

(Could track the bounding stags through tainted
grounds.
Beat up their cover, and unchain the hounds:
But most to spread our artful toils I'd joy,
For while we watch'd them, 1 could clasp the boy!
Then, as entrane'd in amorous bliss we lay,
Mix'd foul with foul, and melted all away! da
Snar'd in our nets, the boar might safe retire,
And owe his safety to our mutual fire.

O ! without me ne'er taste the joys of love,
But a chaste hunter in my absence prove.
And O! my boars the wanton fair destroy,
Who would Cerinthus to their arms decoy!
Yet, yet I dread !—Be sports your father's care;
But you, all pafsioB! to my arms repair!

POEM III.

Come, Phœbus! with your loosely floating hair,
O sooth her torture, and restore the fair!
Come, quickly come ! we supplicant implore,
Such charms your happy skill ne'er sav'd before!
Let not her frame, consumptive pine away,
Her eyes grow languid, and her bloom decay;
Propitious come '. and with you bring along
Each pain subduing herb, and soothing fo»g;
Or real ills, or whate'er ills we fear,
To ocean's farthest verge let torrents bear. 10
O! rack no more, with harsh, unkind delays.
The youth, who ceaseless for h:r safety prays;
'Twixt love and rage his tortur'd foul is torn;
And now he prays, now treats the gods with scorn.-
Take heart, fond youth! you have not vainly
pray'd

S'ill persevere to love th' inchanting maid:
Sulpicia is your own! for you she sighs.
And sl'ghts all other conquests of her eyes:
Dry thin your tears; your tears would fitly flow
Did she 011 others her esteem bestow. so

O come! what honour will be yours, to save
At once two lovers from the doleful grave?
Then both will emulous exalt your skill;
With grateful tablets,both your temples fill:
Both heap with spicy gums your sacred fire;
Both sing your praises to th' harmonious lyre:
Your brother-gods will prize your healing power?.
Lament their attributes, and envy yours.

POEM IV.

Ok my account, to grief a ceaseless prey, Dost thou a sympathetic anguish prove 2

1 would not wiih to live another day.

If my recovery did not charm my love: For what were life, and healrh, and bloom to me, Were they displeasing,beauteous youth! to thee.

POEM V.

With feasts I'll ever grace the sacred morn,
When my Ceiinthus, lovely youth was born.
_Ac birth, to you tli' unerring sisters lung
Unbounded empire o'er the gay and young:
But T, chief I! (if you my love reppy),
With rapture own your ever-pleasing sway.
This I conjure you, by your charming tye«,
Where love's soft god in wanton ambush lies!
This by your genius, and the joys we stole.
Whose sweet remembrance still enchants my foul!
Grtat natal genius! grant my heart's desire, n
So flull I heap with costly gums your lire '.
Whenever fancy paints me to the boy,
Let his breast pant with an impatient joy:
lint if the libertine for others sigh
(Which love forbid !) O love! your aid deny.
Nor, love! be partial, let us both confess
The pleasing pain, or malce my passion less.
But O! much rathsr 'us my foul's dt sire,
That both may feel an equal, endless sire. 20

In secret my Cerinthus bc^s the fame,
But the youth blushes to confess his flame:
Assent, thou god '. to whom his heart is known,
Whether he public ask, or secret own.

POEM VI. Accept, O natal queen! with placent air, The incense offer'd by the learned fair. She's rob'd in cheerful pomp, O power divine! She'srob'd to decorate your matron-shrine; Such her pretence; but well her lover knows Whence her gay look, and whence her finery flows.

Thou, who dost o'er the nuptial bed preside,"j O! let not envious night their joys divide, J. But make the bridegroom amorous as the bride !j So shall they tally, matchless lovely pair! A youth all transport, and a melting fair? lo Then let no spies their secret haunts explore , Teach them thy wiles, O love' and guard the door.

Assent, chaste queen! in purple pomp appear; Thrice wine is pour'd and cakes await you, here. Her mother tells her for what boon to pray; Her heart denies it, though her lips obey. She burns, that altar as the flames devour; She burns, and flights the safety in her power. 19 So may the boy, whose chains you proudly wear, Through youth the soft indulgent anguish bear; And when old age has chill'd his every vein, The dear remembrance may he still retain '.

POEM VII.

At last the natal odious morn draws nigh, When to your cold, cold villa 1 must go;

There, far, too far from my Cerinthus sigh: Oh why, Meffala! will you plague ine so?

Let studious mortals prite the sylvan scene;

And ancient maidens hide them in the shade; Green tree« perpetually give me the spleen;

For crowds, lor joy, for Rome, Sulpicia'scnadc' 111.

Your too officious kindness gives me pain.

flow fall the hailstone*! hark! how howls the wind! I? Then know, to grace your birth day should I deijt,

My soul, my all, I leave at Rome behind.

POEM VIII.

Ar last the fair'sdetermin'd not to go;

My Lord! you know the whimsies of the so. Then let us gay carouse, let odours flow;

Your mind no longer with her absence vei: For O! consider, time incessant flics; But evety day's a birth-day to the wife.!

POEM IX.

That I, descended of Patrician race,
With charms of fortune, and with charms off;:'.
And so indifferent grown to you o( late,
So little car'd for, now excites no hate.
Rare taste, and worthy of a poet's brain.

To prey on garbage, and a stave adore!
In such to find out charms a bard must feign

Beyond what fiction ever feign'd of yore. Her friends may think Sulpicia is dilgrac'd; No! no! (lie honours your transcendent ui-;-"

POEM X.

If from the bottom of my love-sick heart,
Of last night's coyness 1 do not repent,
May I no more your tender anguish hear,
No longer sec you shed th' impassiou'd teat.

You grasp'd my knees, and yet to let yo« pit—
O night more happy with Cerinthus spent!
My flame with coyness to conceal I thought.
But this concealment was too dearly bought-

POEM XI.

Fame fays, my mistress loves another swain;
Would I were deaf, when fame repeats thr«tc£s
All crimes to her imputed, give me pain,
Not change my love; Fame, flop your sirs
tongue!'

POEM XII.

Let other maids, whose eyes less proffcree

prove, .t
Publish my weakness, and condemn my lore.
Exult, my heart! at last the qneen of joy,
Won by the music of her votary's strain.
Leads to the couch of bliss herself the bos;
And bids enjoyment thrill in every vein;
Last night entrane'd in ecstasy we lay,
And chid the quick, too quick return oli'J

POEM I.

Ver. a. One of the critics has observed upon this passage, that Venus must either have had great confidence in her own charms; or have been little solicitous what became of her paramour Mirs, to indulge him in this interview.

Ver. 6. When Euryclea, in the Odyssey (lib.xix ) discovers Ulysses (whom she was battling) by the fear in his leg, her joyful surprise is finely imagined, by her being ready to faint, and her dropping the jar of water. Nor less beautiful is the surprise testified by Paris, when by chance he beheld the fair bosom of Helen: Dun stupco vi'us (nam pocula forte ter.ebam)

Tortihs e digitis excidit anfa meis.

£f. Her. I'm. 2tl.

Menage, in his Bird-Catcher and Adonis, gives a no less sine instance of astonishment; but Milton has surpassed them al!, in the picture he has drawn of Adam's consternation and horror, upon heiug told by Eve that Die had eaten of the forbidden fruit, which is a beautiful contrast to the joy which she snowed in narrating the fact:

Thus Eve, with count'nance blithe, her story told,
But in her cheek distemper flushing glow d.
On th' other side, Adam, soon as he heard
The fatal trespass done by Eve, amaz'd,
Astoned stood, and blank; while horror dull
Kan through his veins, and all his joints rclax'd;
from his slack hand the garlaud, wrearh'd for Eve,
Down dropt, and all the faded roses (hed:
Speechless he stood, ami pair; tjll thus at length
First to himself he inward silence broke.

Sect ix. I. 886.

What the author of this po-m ascribes to the power of beauty, Pindar ascribe* (pcrlups no less truly) to the force of harmony.

X;vrict. f$9u*yZ AfiXAw, dtc. Pytlt. OJ. I.

which the Ute Mr. West has thus poetically rendered:

Hail, goldin lyre! whose heaven invented string

To Pku'ous and the black hair'd nine belongs, Who, in sweet chorus, round t^ieir tuneful king,

Mix v ith thy sounding chords their sacred songs. The darce, gay queen of pleasure '. thee attends;

Thy jocund strains her listening feet inspire: And cath melodious tongue it* v..ice suspend*.

Till thou, great leader of the heavenly choir! With wanton art preluding, viv*!t the si;*n— Swella the full concert then with harmony divine.

DECADE II. Then, of their streaming lightnings all disarm il,

The smouldering thunderbolts of Jove expire: Then, by the music of thy nnmbcrs charm'd,

The birds tierce monarch drops his vengeful ire; Pernh'd on the sceptre of th' Olympian king,

The thrilling darts of harmony he feels;
And indolently hangs his rapid wing,

While gentle sleep his closing eye-iid seals;
And o'er bis heaving limbs in loose array,
To every balmy gale, the rustling feathers play.

But what gave rise to this quotation follows Decade HI.

Ev'n Mars, stern god of violence and war.

Sooths with thy lulling strains his furious breast,

And, driving from his heart each bloody care,
His pointed lance consigns to peaceful rest.

Which image, as well as that of the eagle, are thus imitated by two excellent poets of our own days.

O ! sovereign of the willing soul
Parent os sweet and solemn-breathing airs,
Enchanting sliell! the sullen cares

And frantic passions hear thy soft controul.
On Thracia'a hills the lord of war
Has curb'd the fury of his car,
And dropp'd his thirsty lance at thy command.
Perching on the Icepter'd hand
Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feathet'd king
With ruffled plumes and flagging wing;
Q^ench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie
The terror of his beak, and lightning of his eye.

Ode by Gray i

Whit follows, is from Er. Akenfide's Hymn to the Naiads:

With emulation all the sounding choir, And bright Apollo, leader of the song, Their voices through the liquid air exalt, And sweep their lusty wings: those awfal strings, That charm the mind of gods; that sill the courts Of wide Olympus with oblivion sweet Of evils, with immortal rest from cares; Assuage the terrors of the throne of Jove; And quench the formidable thunderbolt Of unrelenting fire, with slacken'd wings, While now the solemn concert breathes aro.ind, Incumbent o'er the sceptre of his lord Sleeps the stern eagle, by the number d notes Poslel's'd, and satiate with the melting tone; Sovereign of birds. The furious god of war, I His darts forgetting, and the rapid wheel*