"These poisonous plants, for magic use designed, (The noblest and the best of all the baneful kind,) Old Moeris brought me from the Politic strand, And culled the mischief of a bounteous land. Smeared with these powerful juices, on the plain, He howls a wolf among the hungry train; And oft the mighty necromancer boasts, With these, to call from tombs the stalking ghosts, And from the roots to tear the standing corn, Which, whirled aloft, to distant fields is borne: Such is the strength of spells.--Restore, my charms, My lingering Daphnis to my longing arms. "Bear out these ashes; cast them in the brook; Cast backwards o'er your head; nor turn your look: Since neither gods nor godlike verse can move, Break out, ye smothered fires, and kindle smothered love. Exert your utmost power, my lingering charms; And force my Daphnis to my longing arms. "See while my last endeavours I delay, The walking ashes rise, and round our altars play! Run to the threshold, Amaryllis,--hark! Our Hylax opens, and begins to bark. Good heaven! may lovers what they wish believe? Or dream their wishes, and those dreams deceive? No more! my Daphnis comes! no more, my charms! He comes, he runs, he leaps, to my desiring arms." FOOTNOTES: [300] This Eighth Pastoral is copied by our author from two Bucolics of Theocritus. Spenser has followed both Virgil and Theocritus in the charms which he employs for curing Britomartis of her love. But he had also our poet's Ceiris in his eye; for there not only the enchantments are to be found, but also the very name of Britomartis.--DRYDEN. PASTORAL IX.[301] OR, _LYCIDAS AND MOERIS_. ARGUMENT. _When Virgil, by the favour of Augustus, had recovered his patrimony near Mantua, and went in hope to take possession, he was in danger to be slain by Arius the centurion, to whom those lands were assigned by the Emperor, in reward of his service against Brutus and Cassius. This Pastoral therefore is filled with complaints of his hard usage; and the persons introduced are the bailiff of Virgil, Moeris, and his friend Lycidas._ LYCIDAS. Ho, Moeris! whither on thy way so fast? This leads to town. MOERIS. O Lycidas! at last The time is come, I never thought to see, (Strange revolution for my farm and me!) When the grim captain in a surly tone Cries out, "Pack up, ye rascals, and be gone." Kicked out, we set the best face on't we could; } And these two kids, t'appease his angry mood, } I bear,--of which the Furies give him good! } LYCIDAS.