Like Varius or like Cinna; my poor Muse
Is but a goose among the tuneful swans."
Mœris can remember a scrap or two of his master's verses. There was one in particular, which Lycidas had heard him singing one moonlight night, and would much like to hear again;—"I can remember the tune myself," he says, "but I have forgotten the words." Mœris will try. The compliment to Augustus with which the strain begins sufficiently marks the real poet who here figures as Menalcas.
"Why, Daphnis, why dost watch the constellations
Of the old order, now the new is born?
Lo! a new star comes forth to glad the nations,
Star of the Cœsars, filling full the corn."[1]
But Mœris cannot remember much more. They must both wait, he says, until his master comes home again. So the pair walk on together towards Rome, cheating the long journey with singing as they go; and thus closes this pretty pastoral dialogue, the graceful ease of which, with its subdued comedy, it would be impossible for any translator to render adequately.
Another of these Eclogues relates the capture of Silenus, one of the old rural deities of very jovial reputation, by two young shepherds, while he lay sleeping off the effect of yesterday's debauch. He is com-
- ↑ Probably the comet which appeared after Julius Cæsar's death, and which the poet takes to announce a new era of peace and happiness for Rome. The English reader may remember that a new star was said to have appeared at the accession of Charles II., from which equally happy auguries were drawn—and were equally disappointed.
