Once more, ye nymphs, and songs, and sounding woods, adieu !

Love alters not for us his hard decrees, Not tho' beneath the Thracian clime we freeze,

Or Italy's indulgent heav'n forego,
And in midwinter tread Sithonian snow;
Or, when the barks of elms are scorch'd, we
keep

On Meroe's burning plains the Libyan sheep.
In hell, and earth, and seas, and heav'n above,
Love conquers all; and we must yield to
Love."

My Muses, here your sacred raptures end:

100

The verse was what I ow'd my suff'ring friend.

This while I sung, my sorrows I deceiv'd, And bending osiers into baskets weav'd. The song, because inspir'd by you, shall shine; And Gallus will approve, because 't is mineGallus, for whom my holy flames renew Each hour, and ev'ry moment rise in view; As alders, in the spring, their boles extend, And heave so fiercely that the bark they rend. Now let us rise; for hoarseness oft invades The singer's voice, who sings beneath the shades.

From juniper unwholesome dews distil, That blast the sooty corn, the with'ring herbage kill.

Away, my goats, away! for you have brows'd your fill.

GEORGICS

TO THE

RIGHT HONORABLE PHILIP, EARL OF CHESTERFIELD, &c.

MY LORD,

I CANNOT begin my address to your Lordship better than in the words of Virgil:

Quod optanti dirum promittere nemo Auderet, volvenda dies, en, attulit ultro. Seven years together I have conceal'd the longing which I had to appear before you: a time as tedious as Eneas pass'd in his wand'ring voyage, before he reach'd the promis'd Italy. But I consider'd that nothing which my

meanness could produce was worthy of your patronage. At last this happy occasion offer'd, of presenting to you the best poem of the best poet. If I balk'd this opportunity, I was in despair of finding such another; and, if I took it, I was still uncertain whether you would vouchsafe to accept it from my hands. 'T was a bold venture which I made, in desiring your permission to lay my unworthy labors at your feet. But my rashness has succeeded beyond my hopes; and you have been pleas'd not to suffer an old man to go discontented out of the world, for want of that protection of which he had been so long ambitious. I have known a gentleman in disgrace, and not daring to appear before King Charles the Second, tho' he much desir'd it: at length he took the confidence to attend a fair lady to the court, and told his Majesty that, under her protection, he had presum'd to wait on him. With the same humble confidence I present myself before your Lordship, and, attending on Virgil, hope a gracious reception. The gentleman succeeded, because the powerful lady was his friend; but I have too much injur'd my great author, to expect he should intercede for me. I would have translated him; but, according to the literal French and Italian phrases, I fear I have traduc'd him. "Tis the fault of many a well-meaning,man, to be officious in a wrong place, and do a prejudice where he had endeavor'd to do a service. Virgil wrote his Georgics in the full strength and vigor of his age, when his judgment was at the height, and before his fancy was declining. He had (according to our homely saying) his full swing at this poem, beginning it about the age of thirtyfive, and scarce concluding it before he arriv'd at forty. 'Tis observ'd both of him and Horace, (and I believe it will hold in all great poets,) that, tho' they wrote before with a certain heat of genius which inspir'd them, yet that heat was not perfectly digested. There is requir'd a continuance of warmth to ripen the best and noblest fruits. Thus Horace, in his First and Second Book of Odes, was still rising, but came not to his meridian till the Third ; after which his judgment was an overpoise to his imagination: he grew too cautions to be bold enough; for he descended in his Fourth by slow degrees, and, in his Satires and Epistles, was more a philosopher and a critic than a poet, In the beginning of summer the days are al most at a stand, with little variation of length or shortness. because at that time the diurnal motion of the sun partakes more of a right line than of a spiral. The same is the method of nature in the frame of man, He seems at forty to be fully in his summer tropic; somewhat before, and somewhat after, he finds in his soul but small increases or decays. From fifty to three-score, the balance generally holds even,

in our colder climates: for he loses not much in fancy; and judgment, which is the effect of observation, still increases. His succeeding years afford him little more than the stubble of his own harvest: yet, if his constitution be healthful, his mind may still retain a decent vigor; and the gleanings of that Ephraim, in comparison with others, will surpass the vintage of Abiezer. I have call'd this somewhere, by a bold metaphor, a green old age; but Virgil has given me his authority for the figure:

Jam senior; sed cruda Deo, viridisque senectus.

Amongst those few who enjoy the advantage of a latter spring your Lordship is a rare example; who, being now arriv'd at your great climacteric, yet give no proof of the least decay in your excellent judgment and comprehension of all things which are within the compass of human understanding. Your conversation is as easy as it is instructive; and I could never observe the least vanity, or the least assuming, in anything you said, but a natural unaffected modesty, full of good sense, and well digested; a clearness of notion, express'd in ready and unstudied words. No man has complain'd, or ever can, that you have discours'd too long on any subject: for you leave us in an eagerness of learning more; pleas'd with what we hear, but not satisfied, because you will not speak so much as we could wish. I dare not excuse your Lordship from this fault; for, tho' 't is none in you, 't is one to all who have the happiness of being known to you. I must confess, the critics make it one of Virgil's beauties, that, having said what he thought convenient, he always left somewhat for the imagination of his readers to supply; that they might gratify their fancies by finding more in what he had written than at first they could; and think they had added to his thought, when it was all there beforehand, and he only sav'd himself the expense of words. However it was, I never went from your Lordship but with a longing to return, or without a hearty curse to him who invented ceremonies in the world, and put me on the necessity of withdrawing, when it was my interest, as well as my desire, to have given you a much longer trouble. I cannot imagine (if your Lordship will give me leave to speak my thoughts) but you have had a more than ordinary vigor in your youth; for too much of heat is requir'd at first, that there may not too little be left at last. A prodigal fire is only capable of large remains; and yours, my Lord, still burns the clearer in declining. The blaze is not so fierce as at the first; but the smoke is wholly vanish'd; and your friends who stand about you are not only sensible of a cheerful warmth, but are kept at an awful distance by its force. In my small observations of mankind,

I have ever found that such as are not rather too full of spirit when they are young, degenerate to dulness in their age. Sobriety in our riper years is the effect of a well-concocted warmth; but, where the principles are only phlegm, what can be expected from the waterish matter but an insipid manhood and a stupid old infancy; discretion in leading strings, and a confirm'd ignorance on crutches? Virgil, in his Third Georgic. when he describes a colt who promises a courser for the race, or for the field of battle, shews him the first to pass the bridge which trembles under him, and to stem the torrent of the flood. His beginnings must be in rashness a noble fault; but time and experience will correct that error, and tame it into a deliberate and well-weigh'd courage, which knows both to be cautious and to dare, as occasion offers. Your Lordship is a man of honor, not only so unstain'd, but so unquestion'd, that you are the living standard of that heroic virtue; so truly such, that if I would flatter you, I could not. It takes not from you, that you were born with principles of generosity and probity; but it adds to you, that you have cultivated nature, and made those principles the rule and measure of all your actions. The world knows this, without my telling; yet poets have a right of recording it to all posterity:

Dignum laude virum Musa vetat mori.

Epaminondas, Lucullus, and the two first Cæsars were not esteem'd the worse commanders for having made philosophy and the liberal arts their study. Cicero might have been their equal, but that he wanted courage. To have both these virtues. and to have improv'd them both with a softness of manners and a sweetness of conversation - few of our nobility can fill that character. One there is, and so conspicuous by his own light, that he needs not

Digito monstrari, et dicier, "Hic est."

To be nobly born, and of an ancient family, is in the extremes of fortune, either good or bad; for virtue and descent are no inheritance. A long series of ancestors shews the native with great advantage at the first; but if he any way degenerate from his line, the least spot is visible on ermine. But, to preserve this whiteness in its original purity, you, my Lord, have, like that ermine, forsaken the common track of business, which is not always clean: you have chosen for yourself a private greatness, and will not be polluted with ambition. It has been observ'd in former times that none have been so greedy of employments, and of managing the public, as they who have least deserv'd their stations. But such only merit to be call'd patriots, under

whom we see their country flourish. I have laugh'd sometimes (for who would always be a Heraclitus?) when I have reflected ou those men who from time to time have shot themselves into the world. I have seen many successions of them; some bolting out upon the stage with vast applause, and others hiss'd off, and quitting it with disgrace. But, while they were in action, I have constantly observ'd that they seem'd desirous to retreat from business: greatness, they said, was nauseous, and a crowd was troublesome; a quiet privacy was their ambition. Some few of them, I believe, said this in earnest, and were making a provision against future want, that they might enjoy their age with ease: they saw the happiness of a private life, and promis'd to themselves a blessing which every day it was in their power to possess. But they deferr'd it, and linger'd still at court, because they thought they had not yet enough to make them happy: they would have more, and laid in, to make their solitude luxurious - a wretched philoso phy, which Epicurus never taught them in his garden. They lov'd the prospect of this quiet in reversion, but were not willing to have it in possession: they would first be old, and made as sure of health and life as if both of them were at their dispose. But put them to the necessity of a present choice, and they preferr'd continuance in power; like the wretch who call'd Death to his assistance, but refus'd it when he came. The great Scipio was not of their opinion, who indeed sought honors in his youth, and indur'd the fatigues with which he purchas'd them. He serv'd his country when it was in need of his courage and his conduct, till he thought it was time to serve himself; but dismounted from the saddle when he found the beast which bore him began to grow restiff and ungovernable. But your Lordship has given us a better example of moderation. You saw betimes that ingratitude is not confin'd to commonwealths; and therefore, tho' you were form'd alike for the greatest of civil employments and military commands, yet you push'd not your fortune to rise in either, but contented yourself with being capable, as much as any whosoever, of defending your country with your sword, or assisting it with your counsel, when you were call'd. For the rest, the respect and love which was paid you, not only in the province where you live, but generally by all who had the happiness to know you, was a wise exchange for the honors of the court a place of forgetfulness, at the best, for well-deservers. 'Tis necessary, for the polishing of manners, to have breath'd that air; but 't is infections, even to the best morals, to live always in it. 'Tis a dangerous commerce, where an honest man is sure at the

first of being cheated, and he recovers not his losses but by learning to cheat others. The undermining smile becomes at length habitual; and the drift of his plausible conversation is only to flatter one, that he may betray another. Yet 't is good to have been a looker-on, without venturing to play; that a man may know false dice another time, tho' he never means to use them. I commend not him who never knew a court, but him who forsakes it because he knows it. A young man deserves no praise, who, out of melancholy zeal, leaves the world before he has well tried it, and runs headlong into religion. He who carries a maidenhead into a cloister is sometimes apt to lose it there, and to repent of his repentance. He only is like to endure austerities who has already found the inconvenience of pleasures. For almost every man will be making experiments in one part or another of his life, and the danger is the less when we are young; for, having tried it early, we shall not be apt to repeat it afterwards. Your Lordship therefore may properly be said to have chosen a retreat, and not to have chosen it till you had maturely weigh'd the advantages of rising higher, with the hazards of the fall. Res, non parta labore, sed relicta, was thought by a poet to be one of the requisites to a happy life. Why should a reasonable man put it into the power of Fortune to make him miserable, when his ancestors have taken care to release him from her? Let him venture, says Horace, qui zonam perdidit. He who has nothing plays securely; for he may win, and cannot be poorer if he loses. But he who is born to a plentiful estate, and is ambitious of offices at court, sets a stake to Fortune which she can seldom answer: if he gains nothing, he loses all, or part of what was once his own; and if he gets, he cannot be certain but he may refund. In short, however he succeeds, 't is covetousness that indue'd him first to play; and covetousness is the undoubted sign of ill sense at bottom. The odds are against him that he loses; and one loss may be of more consequence to him than all his former winnings. 'Tis like the present war of the Christians against the Turk: every year they gain a victory, and by that a town; but, if they are once defeated, they lose a province at a blow, and endanger the safety of the whole empire. You, my Lord, enjoy your quiet in a garden, where you have not only the leisure of thinking, but the pleasure to think of nothing which can discompose your mind. A good conscience is a port which is landlock'd on every side; and where no winds can possibly invade, no tempests can arise. There a man may stand upon the shore, and not only see his own image, but that of his Maker, clearly reflected from the undisturb'd

and silent waters. Reason was intended for a blessing; and such it is to men of honor and integrity, who desire no more than what they are able to give themselves; like the happy old Corycian whom my author describes in his Fourth Georgic, whose fruits and salads, on which he liv'd contented, were all of his own growth, and his own plantation. Virgil seems to think that the blessings of a country life are not complete without an improvement of knowledge by contemplation and reading:

O fortunatos nimium, bona si sua norint,
Agricolas !

'Tis but half possession not to understand that happiness which we possess. A foundation of good sense and a cultivation of learning are requir'd to give a seasoning to retirement, and make us taste the blessing. God has bestow'd on your Lordship the first of these; and you have bestow'd on yourself the second. Eden was not made for beasts, tho' they were suffer'd to live in it, but for their master, who studied God in the works of his creation. Neither could the Devil have been happy there with all his knowledge; for he wanted innocence to make him so. He brought envy, malice, and ambition into Paradise, which sour'd to him the sweetness of the place. Wherever inordinate affections are, 't is hell. Such only can enjoy the country, who are capable of thinking when they are there, and have left their passions behind them in the town. Then they are prepar'd for solitude; and in that solitude is prepar'd for them :

Et secura quies, et nescia fallere vita.

As I began this dedication with a verse of Virgil, so I conclude it with another. The continuance of your health, to enjoy that happiness which you so well deserve, and which you have provided for yourself, is the sincere and earnest wish of

Your Lordship's most devoted
And most obedient Servant,
JOHN DRYDEN.

THE FIRST BOOK OF THE GEORGICS

THE ARGUMENT

The poet, in the beginning of this book, propounds the general design of each Georgic; and, after a solemn invocation of all the gods who are any wav related to his subject, he addresses himself in particular to Augustus, whom he compliments with divinity; and

after strikes into his business. He shews the different kinds of tillage proper to different soils; traces out the original of agriculture; gives a catalogue of the husbandman's tools; specifies the employments peculiar to each season; describes the changes of the weather, with the signs in heaven and earth that forebode them; instances many of the prodigies that happen'd near the time of Julius Caesar's death; and shuts up all with a supplication to the gods for the safety of Augustus, and the preservation of Rome.

WHAT makes a plenteous harvest, when to