Apelles Art, an Alexander found;
And Raphael did with Leo's Gold abound;
But Homer was with barren Laurel crown'd.
Thou hadst thy Charles a while, and fo had I;
But pafs we that unpleafing Image by.
Rich in thy felf; and of thy felf Divine,
All Pilgrims come and offer at thy Shrine.
A graceful Truth thy Pencil can Command:
The Fair themselves go mended from thy Hand:
Likeness appears in every Lineament;
But Likeness in thy Work is Eloquent :
Tho' Nature, there, her true Refemblance bears,
A nobler Beauty in thy Piece appears.
So warm thy Work, fo glows the gen'rous Frame,
Flesh looks lefs living in the lovely Dame.
Thou paint'ft as we defcribe, improving ftill,
When on wild Nature we ingraft our Skill:
But not creating Beauties at our Will.
But Poets are confin'd in narr'wer space,
To fpeak the Language of their Native Place:
The Painter widely ftretches his Command:
Thy Pencil fpeaks the Tongue of ev'ry Land,
From hence, my Friend, all Climates are your own;
Nor can you forfeit, for you hold of none.
All Nations, all Immunities will give
To make you theirs; where-e'er you please to live;
And not fev'n Cities, but the World wou'd ftrive.
Sure fome propitious Planet then did fmile,
When firft you were conducted to this Ifle:
(Our Genius brought you here, t' inlarge our Fame)
(For your good Stars are ev'ry where the fame)
Thy matchless Hand, of ev'ry Region free,
Adopts our Climate; not our Climate thee.
* Great Rome and Venice early did impart
To thee th' Examples of their wondrous Art.
Thofe Mafters then but feen, not understood,
With generous Emulation fir'd thy Blood:
He travell'd very young into Italy.
For what in Nature's Dawn the Child admir'd,
The Youth endeavour'd, and the Man acquir'd.
If yet thou haft not reach'd their high Degree,
'Tis only wanting to this Age, not thee.
Thy Genius, bounded by the Times, like mine,
Drudges on petty Draughts, nor dare defign
A more exalted Work, and more Divine,
For what a Song, or fenfelefs Opera
Is to the living Labour of a Play;
Or, what a Play to Virgil's Work wou'd be,
Such is a fingle Piece to Hiftory.
But we who Life bestow, our felves muft live; Kings cannot Reign, unless their Subjects give. And they who pay the Taxes, bear the Rule: Thus thou, fometimes, art forc'd to draw a Fool: But fo his Follies in thy Pofture fink,
The fenfelefs Ideot feems at leaft to think.
(Good Heav'n! that Sots and Knaves fhou'd be fo
To wish their vile Refemblance may remain!
And ftand recorded, at their own Request,
To future Days, a Libel or a Jeft.)
Elfe fhou'd we fee, your noble Pencil trace
Our Unities of Action, Time, and Place.
A Whole compos'd of Parts; and those the best;
With ev'ry various Character expreft.
Heroes at large; and at a nearer View ;
Lefs, and at diftance, an ignobler Crew.
While all the Figures in one Action join,
As tending to compleat the main Design.
More cannot be by mortal Art expreft;
But venerable Age fhall add the rest.
For time fhall with his ready Pencil stand;
Retouch your Figures, with his ripening Hand;
Mellow your Colours, and imbrown the Teint;
Add every Grace, which time alone can grant:
To future Ages fhall your Fame convey;
And give more Beauties, than he takes away.
A Tranflation of all VRIGIL's Fourth Georgick, except the Story of AR 1
By Mr. Jo. ADDISON, of Mag. Col. Oxon.
Etherial Sweets fall next my Mufe engage,
And this, Mecanas, claims your Patronage.
Of little Creatures wondrous Acts I treat,
The Ranks, and mighty Leaders of their State,
Their Laws, Employments, and their Wars relate.
A trifling Theam provokes my Humble Lays,
Trifling the Theam, not fo the Poet's Praife:
If Great Apollo, and the Tuneful Nine
Join in the Piece, to make the Work Divine.
Firft, for your Bees a proper Station find,
That's fenc'd about, and fhelter'd from the Wind
For Winds divert 'em in their Flight, and drive
The Swarms, when loaden homeward, from their Hive.
Nor Sheep, nor Goats, muft pafture near their Stores,
To trample under foot the fpringing Flowers;
Nor frisking Heifers bound about the place, [Grafs :
To fpurn the Dew-drops off, and bruise the rifing
Nor muft the Lizzard's painted Brood appear,
Nor Wood-pecks, nor the Swallow harbour near.
These waste the Swarms, and as they fly along
Convey the tender Morfels to, their Young. [Mofs,
Let purling Streams, and Fountains edg'd with
And shallow Rills run trickling through the Grafs;
Let branching Olives o'er the Fountain grow,
Or Palms fhoot up, and fhade the Streams below;
That when the Youth, led by their Princes, fhun
The crowded Hive, and sport it in the Sun,
Refreshing Springs may tempt 'em from the Heat,
And hady Coverts yield a cool Retreat.
Whether the neighbouring Water ftands or runs,
Lay Twigs across, and Bridge it o'er with Stones;
That if rough Storms, or fudden Blasts of Wind
Should dip, or scatter those that lag behind,
Here they may settle on the friendly Stone,
And dry their reeking Pinions at the Sun.
Plant all the flowry Banks with Lavender,
With ftore of Sav'ry fcent the fragrant Air,
Let running Betony the Field o'erspread,
And Fountains foak the Vi'lets dewy Bed.
Tho' Barks, or plaited Willows make your Hive,
A narrow Inlet to their Cells contrive;
For Colds congele and freeze the Liquors up,
And, melted down with Heat, the waxen Buildings
The Bees, of both Extreams alike afraid, [drop.
Their Wax around the whiftling Crannies fpread,
And fuck out clammy Dews from Herbs and Flo.v'rs,
To smear the Chinks, and plaister up the Pores :
For this they hoard up Glew, whofe clinging Drops,
Like Pitch, or Birdlime, hang in ftringy Ropes.
They oft, 'tis faid, in dark Retirements dwell,
And work in fubterraneous Caves their Cell;
At other times th' induftrious Infects live
In hollow Rocks, or make a Tree their Hive.
Point all their chinky Lodgings round with Mud,
And Leaves must thinly on your Work be ftrow'd;
But let no baleful Eugh-Tree flourish near,
Nor rotten Marshes fend out fteams of Mire;
Nor burningCrabs grow red, and crackle in the Fire.
Nor neighb'ring Caves return the dying found,
Nor Ecchoing Rocks the doubl'd Voice rebound.
Things thus prepar❜d-----
When th' under-World is feiz'd with Cold, and
Night,
And Summer here defcends in ftreams of Light,
The Bees thro' Woods and Forests take their flight.
They rifle ev'ry Flow'r, and lightly skim
The Crystal Brook, and fip the running Stream;
And thus they feed their Young with ftrange delight, And knead the yielding Wax, and work the flimy
But when on high you fee the Bees repair,
Born on the Winds thro' diftant tracts of Air, And view the winged Cloud all blackning from afar;
While fhady Coverts, and fresh Streams they chufe,
Milfoil and common Honey-fuckles bruife,
And sprinkle on their Hives the fragrant Juice.
On Brazen Veffels beat a tinkling sound,'
And shake the Cymbals of the Goddefs round;
Then all will haftily retreat, and fill
The warm refounding Hollow of their Cell.
If once two Rival Kings their Right debate,
And Factions and Cabals embroil the State,
The Peoples Actions will their Thoughts declare
All their Hearts tremble, and beat thick with War;
Hoarfe broken founds, like Trumpets harsh Alarms,
Run thro' the Hive, and call 'em to their Arms 5
All in a hurry spread their fhiv'ring Wings,
And fit their Claws, and point their angry Stings:
In Crowds before the King's Pavillion meet,
And boldly challenge out the Foe to fight:
At laft, when all the Heav'ns are warm and fair,
They rush together out, and join; the Air [War.
Swarms thick, and Eccho's with the Humming
All in a firm round Clufter mix, and ftrow
With Heaps of little Corps, the Earth below;
As thick as Hail-ftones from the Floor rebound,
Or fhaken Acorns rattle on the Ground,
No fenfe of Danger can their Kings Controul,
Their little Bodies lodge a mighty Soul:
Each obftinate in Arms, pursues his Blow,
'Till fhameful Flight fecures the routed Foe.
This hot Difpute, and all this mighty Fray,
A little Duft flung upward will allay.
But when both Kings are fettl'd in their Hive, Mark him who looks the worft, and left he live
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