Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/128

4 But now the Wonder ceases, since I see She kept them only, Tityrus, for thee. For thee the bubling Springs appear'd to mourn, And whisp'ring Pines made Vows for thy return. What shou'd I do! while here I was enchain'd, No glimpse of Godlike Liberty remain'd? Nor cou'd I hope in any place but there, To find a God so present to my Pray'r. There first the Youth of Heav'nly Birth I view'd; For whom our Monthly Victims are renew'd. He heard my Vows, and graciously decreed My Grounds to be restor'd, my former Flocks to feed. O Fortunate Old Man! whose Farm remains For you sufficient, and requites your pains, Tho' Rushes overspread the Neighb'ring Plains. Tho' here the Marshy Grounds approach your Fields, And there the Soil a stony Harvest yields. Your teeming Ewes shall no strange Meadows try, Nor fear a Rott from tainted Company. Behold yon bord'ring Fence of Sallow Trees Is fraught with Flow'rs, the Flow'rs are fraught with Bees: The buisie Bees with a soft murm'ring Strain Invite to gentle sleep the lab'ring Swain. While from the Neighb'ring Rock, with rural Songs, The Pruner's Voice the pleasing Dream prolongs;