Nor that a heav'nly God, who PHŒBUS hight,
To tend his flock with fhepherds did delight. 30
VI.

Ah! 'tis that VENUS with accurst despight,
That all my dolour and my shame has made!
Nor does remembrance of her own delight
For me one drop of pity sweet persuade !
Aye hence the glowing rapture may fhe mifs,
Like me be fcorn'd, nor ever taste a kiss!

V. 29. who PнBUS hight,] Who was called PHOEBUS,

36

YE

FROM HORACE, Book iii. OD. 13.

waves, that gushing fall with pureft stream, Blandufian fount! to whom the products sweet Of richeft vines belong,

And fairest flow'rs of Spring;

To thee a chofen victim will I kill,

A Goat, who, wanton in lafcivious youth,
Juft blooms with budding horn,

And deftines future war,

Elate in vaineft thought: but ah! too foon His reeking blood with crimson fhall pollute Thy icy-flowing flood,

And tinge thy crystal clear.

Thy fweet recefs the Sun in mid-day hour Can ne'er invade: thy ftreams the labour'd ox Refresh with cooling draught,

And glad the wand'ring herds.

Thy name shall shine with endless honour grac'd, While on my fhell I fing the hanging oak,

That o'er thy cavern deep

Waves his imbowering head.

HORACE, BOOK iii. OD. 18.

AFTER THE MANNER OF MILTON.

FAUNUS, who lov'ft to chafe the light-foot Nymphs,

Propitious guard my fields and funny farm,

And nurse with kindly care
The promise of my flock.

So to thy pow'r a Kid shall yearly bleed,
And the full bowl to genial VENUS flow;
And on thy ruftic shrine

Rich odours incenfe breathe :

So thro' the vale the wanton herds fhall bound, When thy December comes, and on the green The fteer in traces loofe

With the free village sport:

No more the lamb shall fly th' infidious wolf, The woods fhall fhed their leaves, and the glad hind The ground, where once he dug,

Shall beat in fprightly dance.

F

O D E S

Τα ροδα τα δροσοεντα, και η καταπυκνος εκεινη
Έρπυλλος κειται ταις Ελικωνιασι

Ται δε μελαμφυλλοι δαφναι τιν, Πυθιε Παιαν.

THEOCRIT. Epigr.