Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/225

Book 13. Nor will I praise my Cattle; trust not me, But judge your self, and pass your own Decree: Behold their swelling Dugs; the sweepy Weight Of Ewes, that sink beneath the Milky Freight; In the warm Folds their tender Lambkins lye; Apart from Kids, that call with human Cry. New Milk in Nut-brown Bowls is duely serv'd For daily Drink, the rest for Cheese reserv'd. Nor are these Houshold Dainties all my Store: The Fields, and Forests will afford us more; The Deer, the Hare, the Goat, the Savage Boar. All Sorts of Ven'son; and of Birds the best; A pair of Turtles taken from the Nest. I walk'd the Mountains, and two Cubs I found, (Whose Dam had left 'em on the naked Ground,) So like, that no Distinction cou'd be seen: So pretty, they were Presents for a Queen; And so they shall; I took 'em both away; And keep, to be Companions of your Play. Oh raise, fair Nymph, your Beauteous Face above The Waves; nor scorn my Presents, and my Love. Come, Galatea, come, and view my Face; I late beheld it, in the watry Glass; And found it lovelier, than I fear'd it was. Survey my towring Stature, and my Size: Not Jove, the Jove you dream, that rules the Skies, Bears such a Bulk, or is so largely spread; My Locks (the plenteous Harvest of my Head) Hang o'er my manly Face; and dangling down, As with a shady Grove, my Shoulders crown. Nor think, because my Limbs, and Body bear A thick-set Underwood of bristling Hair, My Shape deform'd; what fouler Sight can be, Than the bald Branches of a leafless Tree? Foul is the Steed without a flowing Mane: And Birds, without their Feathers, and their Train. Wool