You'd fwear his active Limbs work'd to and fro,
So tight he is, fo fitted for the Throw.
His Neck enlarg❜d with swelling Veins appears:
Much is his Strength, tho' many are his Years.
Not far from hence a feeming Vineyard grows,
The Vines all neatly fet in graceful Rows,
Whose weightyClusters bend the yielding Boughs.
And a Young Lad on a Tree's neighb❜ring Root
Sits idlely by, to watch the ripening Fruit.
By him, two Foxes unregarded steal:
Each craftily defigns a diff'rent Meal.
One tow'rds the Vineyard casts a longing Eye;
Looks to, and fro; and then creeps softly by:
Whil'ft t'other couch'd in a close Ambuscade
To intercept the Scrip and Vict'als laid,
Refolves not first to quit the deftin'd Prey,
'Till he has fent the Tounker Supperless away.
Mean while with both his Hands, and both his Eyes,
He's plaiting Straws, and making Traps for Flyes.
With Art and Care he the fine Play-thing twines,
Surveys it, and applauds his own Designs:
Unmindful of his Bag, or of his Vines.
The Cup befides a Wood-bine does contain,
Which round the Bottom wreaths its leafie Train,
Admir'd and Envy'd by each gazing Swain!
I know, you'll fay your felf, 'tis ftrangely fine!
The Workman, and the Workmanship Divine!
I bought it when I croft th' Ætolian Seas,
The price a dainty Kid, and a large New-milk Cheese,
Unus'd it lies, unfully'd, neat and trim:
Nor have my Lips once touch'd the shining Brim.
With This I'd willingly reward thy Pains,
Would'st thou but fing those my beloved Strains.
Nor envy I thy Skill: No envious Death
Too foon (alas!) will stop that charming Breath:
Come on then, Sing, Dear Shepherd, while you may.
Thyrfis.
Begin, Sweet Muse, begin the Rural Lay.
'Tis Thyrfis fings, Thyrfis on Etna born:
The grateful Hills do his lov'd Notes return.
Where were the Nymphs? Where, in that fatal day,
When Daphnis, lovely Daphnis, pin'd away?
Did ye by Peneus, or on Pindus stray?
(For fure ye were not by Anapus fide,
Nor Etna's Top, nor Acis Silver Tide.)
Begin, Sweet Mufe, begin the Rural Lay.
For him the Panthers and the Tygers mourn'd:
They came, they faw; and with fwoln Eyes return'd.
Lyons themselves did uncouth Sorrows bear,
Their Savage Fierceness softning to a Tear.
Close by his Feet the Bulls and Heifers lay;
The Calves forgot their Feeding, and their Play:
Begin, Sweet Muse, begin the Rural Lay.
Swift Hermes firft came down to his Relief:
Daphnis, he cry'd, from whence this foolish Grief?
What Nymph, what Goddess steals thy heart away?
Begin, Sweet Muse, begin the Rural Lay.
Next him the Shepherds, and the Goat-herds came:
All ask'd the Reafon of so strange a Flame.
Priapus came too-
He came, and ask'd him with a pitying Eye,
Why all this Grief? Ah! wretched Daphnis, why?
While the falfe Nymph, unmindful of thy Pains,
Now climbs the Hills, now skims it o'er the Plains,
Where e'er blind Chance or Fancy leads the
Begin, Sweet Mufe, begin the Rural Lay.
Ah! foolish and impatient of the Smart,
With which the wanton Boy hath pierc'd thy Heart!
An* Herdfman thou wert thought; a Goat-herd fure
* Βῖσας μὲν ἐλέγεν· νως δ' ἀπόλῳ ἀνδρὶ εοικας.
H 3
The Goat-herd, when from fome old craggy Rock
He views the sportful Paftimes of his Flock,
And fees 'em how they frisk, and how they play,
Grieves that he's not a Goat, as well as they:
Begin, Sweet Mufe, begin the Rural Lay.
And you too, when you fee the Nymphs advance
Their nimble Feet in a well order'd Dance,
And hear'em how they talk, & fee'em how they smile,
Aregriev'd that you must stand neglected all the while
All this, without an Answer, heard the Swain;
Still he went on, and nourish'd still the Pain.
He found his Love increase, and Life decay :
Begin, Sweet Mufe, begin the Rural Lay.
Then Venus came, and rais'd his drooping Head:
Forc'd an infulting Smile, and thus she said.
You thought, fond Swain, that you could love fubdue:
But Love, it feems, at laft has conquer'd you.
Strong are his Charms, and mighty is his sway:
Begin, Sweet Mufe, begin the Rural Lay. She spake And thus the mournful Swain reply'd. Ah! Foe to me, and all Mankind befide! Ah! cruel Goddefs! fpare thy Taunts' at last; Nor urge a Death that's drawing on so fast.
Too well I know my fatal hour is come,
My * Sun declining to its Western Home.
Yet ev❜n in Death thy Scorns I will repay:
Begin, Sweet Mufe, begin the Rural Lay. Hence, Cyprian Queen, to Ida's Tops repair, Anchifes, lov'd Anchises waits you there. There fpreading Oaks will cover you around: Here humble Shrubs fcarce peep above the Ground, And bufie Bees are humming all the Day.
The noife is great, 'twill spoil your am'rous Play:
Begin, Sweet Muse, begin the Rural Lay.
Adonis too! The Boy is lovely fair!
He feeds his Flocks, he hunts the nimble Hare;
And boldly chases ev'ry Beast of Prey:
Begin, Sweet Mufe, begin the Rural Lay. The Panthers, Lyons, and the Wolves adieu! Who now fhall traverfe the thickWoods with you? No more fhall you be chas'd, no morefhall I purfue. Hail Arethusa, lovely Fountain hail! (Vale! Farewel Streams that flow thro' Tyber's flow'ry
Farewel!The Gods forbid my longer Stay: Leave off, Fond Mufe, leave off the Rural Lay.
* Ἤδη γδ φράσδει πάνθ' ἥλιον ἅμμι δεδύκειν.
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