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As the Dove trembling from the Faulcon flies,
Feet I saw a monstrous Shade,
The Goddess heard my Pray’r, and deignd to
(Throud My panting Body in a pitchy Cloud.
Here tho' I vanish'd from Alpheus sight, Yet still impatient to pursue the Flight, Twice he surveys the Cloud with searching Eyes, And Arethufa! Arethufa! cries.
[main? To me what Strength! what Life did then reNo more, than to the Lamb, that hears with Pain The howling Wolf around th’Enclosure rove, Yet from its helpless Mother dares not move. Nor went he ori, but kept the Cloud and Place; For he my Footsteps cou'd no further trace. O'er all my Limbs an oozing Sweat appears, My weeping Eyes pour out a Flow of Tears. Big azure Drops my dewy Hairs distil, From every Pore descends a trickling Rill.
My whole dissolving Body liquid grows,
Vertumnus and Pomona;
FROM The Fourteenth Book of Ovid's
THE fair Pomona flourish'd in his Reign;
Of all the Virgins of the Sylvan Train, None taught the Trees a nobler Race to bears Or more improv'd the Vegetable Care. To her the shady Grove, the flow'ry Fields
[yield; The Streams and Fountains, no Delights cou'd .:K
'Twas all her Joy the ripening Fruits to tend,
These Cares alone her Virgin Breaft imploy, Averse from Venus and the Nuptial Joy ; Her private Orchards wallid on ev'ry side, To lawless Sylvans all Access deny d. How oft the Satyrs and the wanton Fawns, Who haunt the Forests or frequent the Lawns, The God whose Ensign scares the Birds of Prey, And old Silenus, youthful in Decay,