Where late was hair, the fhooting leaves are seen
To rife, and fhade her with a fudden green.
The child Amphiffus to her bofom prest,

Perceiv'd a colder and a harder breast,

And found the springs, that ne'er till then deny'd Their milky moisture, on a fudden dry'd.

I faw, unhappy! what I now relate,

And flood the helpiefs witnefs of thy fate,
Embrac'd thy boughs, thy rising bark delay'd,
There wish'd to grow, and mingle shade with shade.
Behold Andraemon, and th' unhappy fire
Appear, and for their Dryope enquire;
A fpringing tree for Dryope they find,
And print warm kiffes on the panting rind.
Proftrate, with tears their kindred plant bedew,
And clofe embrace as to the roots they grew.
The face was all that now remain'd of thee,
No more a woman, nor yet quite a tree;
Thy branches hung with humid pearls appear,
From ev'ry leaf diftills a trickling tear,

And ftraight a voice, while yet a voice remains,
Thus thro' the trembling boughs in fighs complains:
If to the wretched any faith be giv'n,

I fwear by all th' unpitying pow'rs of heav'n,
No wilful crime this heavy vengeance bred;
In mutual innocence our lives we led:

If this be falfe, let thefe new greens decay,
Let founding axes lop my limbs away,
And crackling flames on all my honours prey.
But from my branching arms this infant bear,
Let fome kind nurie fupply a mother's care:

And to his mother let him oft be led,

Sport in her fhades, and in her fhades be fed;
Teach him, when first his infant voice shall frame
Imperfect words, and lifp his mother's name,
To hail this tree; and fay with weeping eyes,
Within this plant my hapless parent lies:
And when in youth he seeks the shady woods,
Oh, let him fly the crystal lakes and floods,
Nor touch the fatal flow`rs; but warn'd by me,
Believe a Goddess shrin'd in ev'ry tree.
My fire, my fifter, and my spouse, farewell!
If in your breasts or love, or pity dwell,
Protect your plant, nor let my branches feel
The browzing cattle, or the piercing steel.
Farewell! and fince I cannot bend to join
My lips to yours, advance at least to mine.
My fon, thy mother's parting kiss receive,
While yet thy mother has a kifs to give.
I can no more; the creeping rind invades
My clofing lips, and hides my head in shades:
Remove your hands; the bark fhall foon fuffice
Without their aid to feal these dying eyes.

She ceas'd at once to speak, and ceas'd to be; And all the nymph was loft within the tree; Yet latent life thro' her new branches reign'd, And long the plant a human heat retain'd.

2

AND

POMON A.

From the FOURTEENTH BOOK of

O VID'S METAMORPHOSES.

THE 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 fhady grove, the flowery field,
The ftreams and fountains, no delights could yield;
'Twas all her joy the ripening fruits to tend,
And fee the boughs with happy burthens bend.
The hook fhe bore instead of Cynthia's fpear,
To lop the growth of the luxuriant ye r,
To decent form the lawless fhoots to bring,
And teach the 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 breaft employ,
Averfe from Venus and the nuptial joy.

Her private orchards, wall'd on every side,
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 fcares the birds of prey,
And old Silenus, youthful in decay,
Employ'd their wiles, and unavailing care,
To pafs the fences, and surprise the fair?
Like thefe, Vertumnus own'd his faithful flame,
Like thefe, rejected by the fcornful dame.
To gain her fight a thousand forms he wears:
And first a reaper from the field appears,
Sweating he walks, while loads of golden grain
O'ercharge the shoulders of the feeming swain.
Oft o'er his back a crooked scythe is laid,
And wreathes of hay his fun-burnt temples shade :
Oft in his harden'd hand a goad he bears,
Like one who late unyok'd the fu eating steers.
Sometimes his pruning hook corrects the vines,
And the loose stragglers to their ranks confines.
Now gathering what the bounteous year allows,
He pulls ripe apples from the bending boughs.
A foldier now, he with his fword appears;
A fisher next, his trembling angle bears;
Each fhape he varies, and each art he tries,
On her bright charms to feast his longing eyes.
A female form at laft Vertumnus wears,
With all the marks of reverend age appears,
His temples thinly spread with silver hairs;
Prop'd on his staff, and ftooping as he goes,
A painted mitre sheds his furrow'd brows.

The God in this decrepit form array'd, The gardens enter'd, and the fruit survey'd ; And "Happy you! (he thus address'd the maid) "Whose 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 Than fuch as women on their fex bestow.) Then plac'd beside her on the flowery ground, Beheld the trees with Autumn's bounty crown'd. An elm was near, to whofe embraces led, The curling vine her fwelling clusters spread: He view'd her twining branches with delight, And prais'd the beauty of the pleasing fight.

Yet this tall elm, but for this vine (he faid)
Had stood neglected, and a barren fhade;
And this fair vine, but that her arms furround
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 the whose beauty urg'd the Centaur's arms,
Ulyffes' Queen, nor Helen's fatal charms.
Even now, when filent fcorn is all they gain,
A thoufand court you, tho' they court in vain,
A thousand fylvans, demigods, and gods,

That haunt our mountains and our Alban woods.
But if you ll profper, mark what I advise,

Whom age,

and long experience render wise, And one whose tender care is far above

All that thefe lovers ever felt of love,