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As the Dove trembling from the Faulcon flies,
As his fleet Wings th’approaching Falcon plies:
So hastend I, so he pursu'd his Prize. !
Thro the Menalian Groves I fped my Flight,
And gain’d with weary Steps Cyllene’s Height.
Nor swifter he, but of superior Force
To lengthen out the long, laborious Course.
Yet over shaggy Hills with Brakes o'erspread,
And craggy Rocks and desart Wilds I fled.
Before my

Feet I saw a monstrous Shade,
Unless my Fear that frightful Phantom made.
Howe'er his sounding Steps and puffing Breath,
That fann'd my Tresses, frighted me to Death.
Spent with the Labour of the Flight, (I said)
I'm caught! Diana! oh! thy Huntress aid.
Help in Distress the Nymph that us’d'to-bear
Thy Bow, thy Quiver, and thy pointed Spear.


The Goddess heard my Pray’r, and deignd to

(Throud My panting Body in a pitchy Cloud.

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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.


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My whole dissolving Body liquid grows,
And where I movd my Foot a Current flows,
Nay, fooner than I now the Change relate,
I'm all afloat. Yet conscious of my Fate,
The River-God diffolv'd his Form Divine,
And reassum'd his Streams to mix with mine,
Diana cleft the Ground. Through winding Caves
Long time I stray'd unmix'd with Briny Waves.
At length, to kind Ortygia's Shore convey'd,
In silver Streams I rear'd my watry Head.



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Vertumnus and Pomona;

FROM The Fourteenth Book of Ovid's


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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


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'Twas all her Joy the ripening Fruits to tend,
And view the Boughs with happy Burthens bend.
No Dart she wielded, but a Hook did bear,
To lop the Growth of the luxuriant Year,
To decent Form the lawless Shoots to bring,
And teach th’obedient Branches where to spring.
Now the cleft Rind inserted Graffs receives,
And yields an Off-fpring more than Nature gives;
Now sliding Streams the thirsty Plants renew,
And feed their Fibres with reviving Dew.

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,

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