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If you will fly-(yet ah! what cause can be,

Too cruel youth, that you should fly from me?) 255
If not from Phaon I must hope for ease,

Ah let me feek it from the raging feas:
To raging feas unpity'd I'll remove,
And either cease to live, or cease to love!

Sive juvat longe fugiffe Pelafgida Sapho:
(Non tamen invenies, cur ego digna fuga)
Hoc faltem miferæ crudelis epiftola dicat,
Ut mihi Leucadia fata petantur aquæ,

255

VER

VERTUM NUS

AND

POMONA:

From the FOURTEENTH Book of

OVID'S METAMORPHOSE S.

AMOMOI

VERTUMNUS

AND

POMON A.

T

HE fair Pomona flourish'd in his reign;
Of all the Virgins of the fylvan train,
None taught the trees a nobler race to bear,
Or more improv'd the vegetable care.
To her the shady grove, the flow'ry field,
The ftreams and fountains, no delights could yield;
'Twas all her joy the ripening fruits to tend,
And see the boughs with happy burthens bend.

R

VERTUMNUS & POMONA.

EGE fub hoc Pomona fuit: qua nulla fatinas
Inter hamadryadas coluit follertius hortos,
Nec fuit arborei ftudiofior altera fatus:
Unde tenet nomen. non filvas illa, nec amnes;
Rus amat, & ramos, felicia poma ferentes.

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The

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The hook fhe bore, instead of Cynthia's fpear,
To lop the growth of the luxuriant year,
To decent form the lawless fhoots to bring,
And teach th' obedient branches where to fpring.
Now the cleft rind inferted graffs receives,
And yields an offspring more than nature gives;
Now fliding streams the thirsty plants renew,
And feed their fibres with reviving dew.

These cares alone her virgin breast employ,
Averfe from Venus and the nuptial joy.
Her private orchards, wall'd on ev'ry fide,
To lawless fylvans all access deny'd.

How oft' the Satyrs and the wanton Fawns,

Who haunt the forefts, or frequent the lawns,
The God whofe enfign scares the birds of prey,
And old Silenus, youthful in decay,

Nec jaculo gravis eft, fed adunca dextera falce:
Quà modo luxuriem premit, & fpatiantia paffim
Brachia compefcit: fifså modo cortice virgam
Inferit: & fuccos alieno præftat alumno.
Nec patitur fentire fitim: bibulæque recurvas
Radicis fibras labentibus irrigat undis.

Hic amor, hoc ftudium: Veneris quoque nulla cupido.
Vim tamen agreftum metuens, pomaria claudit
Intus: & acceffus prohibet refugitque viriles.
Quid non & Satyri, faltatibus apta juventus,
Fecere, & pinu præcineti cornua Panes,
Silvanufque, fuis femper juvenilior annis,
Quique Deus fures, vel falce, vel inguine terret,

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