« EelmineJätka »
Nor at first fight, like moft, admires the fair
alone shall share
Besides, he's lovely far above the rest,
With youth immortal, and with beauty blest. Add, that he varies ev'ry shape with ease, And tries all forms that 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 pleasing 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 supplies; You, only you, can move the God's defire : Oh crown fo conftant and fo pure a fire! Let soft 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!
Haec ubi nequicquam formas Deus aptus in
Edidit; in juvenem rediit: et anilia demit
This when the various God had urg'd in vain, He straight affum'd his native form again; Such, and fo bright an aspect now he bears, As when thro' clouds th' emerging fun appears, 115 And thence exerting his refulgent ray,
Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day.