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Now gath'ring what the bounteous year allows,
He pulls ripe apples from the bending boughs. 40
A foldier now, he with his fword appears;
A fisher next, his trembling angle bears;
Each shape he varies, and each art he tries,
On her bright charms to feast his longing eyes.
A female form at laft Vertumnus wears, 45
With all the marks of rev'rend age appears,
His temples thinly spread with filver hairs;
Prop'd on his staff, and stooping as he goes,
A painted mitre shades his furrow'd brows.
The god in this decrepit form array'd, 50
The gardens enter'd, and the fruit furvey'd ;
And "Happy you! (he thus address'd the maid)
Whofe charms as far all other nymphs out-fhine,
"As other gardens are excell'd by thine!"
Then kifs'd the fair; (his kiffes warmer grow 55
Than fuch as women on their fex bestow.)
Then plac'd befide her on the flow'ry ground,
Beheld the trees with autumn's bounty crown'd.
An Elm was near, to whose embraces led,

The curling vine her swelling clusters spread: 60
He view'd her twining branches with delight,
And prais'd the beauty of the pleafing fight.

Haec quoque, quae juncta vitis requiefcit in ulmo, Si non nupta foret, terrae adclinata jaceret.

Tu tamen exemplo non tangeris arboris hujus ; Concubitufque fugis; nec te conjungere curas. Atque utinam velles! Helene non pluribus effet Sollicitata procis: nec quae Lapitheïa movit Proelia, nec conjux timidis audacis Ulyssei. Nunc quoque, cum fugias averserisque petentes, Mille proci cupiunt ; et femideique deique, 75 Et quaecunque tenent Albanos numina montes. Sed tu, fi fapies, fi te bene jungere, anumque Hanc audire voles, (quae te plus omnibus illis, 80 Plus quam credis, amo) vulgares rejice taedas: Vertumnumque tori focium tibi felige: pro quo Me quoque pignus habe. neque enim fibi notior ille eft,

Quam mihi. nec toto paffim vagus errat in orbe. Haec loca fola colit: nec, uti pars magna procorum,

Yet this tall elm, but for his vine (he faid) Had stood neglected, and a barren shade; And this fair vine, but that her arms furround 65 Her marry'd elm, had crept along the ground. Ah! beauteous maid, let this example move Your mind, averse from all the joys of love. Deign to be lov'd, and ev'ry heart fubdue! What nymph could e'er attract fuch crouds as you? Not she whose beauty urg'd the Centaur's arms,71 Ulyffes' Queen, nor Helen's fatal charms. Ev'n now, when filent Scorn is all they gain, A thousand court you, tho' they court in vain, A thousand fylvans, demigods, and gods,

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That haunt our mountains and our Alban woods.

But if you'll profper, mark what I advise,
Whom age, and long experience render wife,
And one whose tender care is far above
All that these lovers ever felt of love,
(Far more than e'er can by yourself be guest)
Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the reft.
For his firm faith I dare engage my own;

Scarce to himself, himself is better known.
To diftant lands Vertumnus never roves;
Like you, contented with his native groves;

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8.5

Quam modo vidit, amat. tu primus et ultimus illi Ardor eris; folique fuos tibi devovet annos.

Adde, quod eft juvenis: quod naturale decoris 99
Munus habet; formafque apte fingetur in omnes:
Et, quod erit juffus (jubeas licet omnia) fiet.
Quid, quod amatis idem? quod, quae tibi poma
coluntur,

Primus habet; laetaque tenet tua munera dextra?
Sed neque jam foetus defiderat arbore demtos,
Nec, quas hortus alit, cum fuccis mitibus herbas;
Nec quidquam, nifi te, miferere ardentis: et ipfum,
Qui petit, ore meo praefentem crede precari.---
Sic tibi nec vernum nafcentia frigus adurat
Poma; nec excutiant rapidi florentia venti. 119

Nor at first fight, like moft, admires the fair
For
you he lives; and you alone shall share
His laft affection, as his early care.

Befides, he's lovely far above the rest,

And tries all forms that

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With youth immortal, and with beauty blest. Add, that he varies ev'ry fhape with ease, may Pomona please. But what should moft excite a mutual flame, Your rural cares, and pleasures are the fame : 95 To him your orchards early fruits are due, (A pleafing off ring when 'tis made by you) He values these; but yet (alas) complains, That still the best and dearest gift remains. Not the fair fruit that on yon branches glows 100 With that ripe red th' autumnal fun bestows ; Nor tafteful herbs that in these gardens rise, Which the kind foil with milky fap fupplies; You, only you, can move the God's defire : Oh crown fo conftant and fo pure a fire! Let foft compaffion touch your gentle mind; Think, 'tis Vertumnus begs you to be kind! So may no froft, when early buds appear, Destroy the promise of the youthful year; 109 Nor winds, when first your florid orchard blows, Shake the light bloffoms from their blafted boughs!

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