Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/130

6 Farewel my Pastures, my Paternal Stock, My fruitful Fields, and my more fruitful Flock! No more, my Goats, shall I behold you climb The steepy Cliffs, or crop the flowry Thyme! No more, extended in the Grot below, Shall see you browzing on the Mountain's brow The prickly Shrubs; and after on the bare, Lean down the deep Abyss, and hang in Air. No more my Sheep shall sip the Morning Dew; No more my Song shall please the Rural Crue: Adieu, my tuneful Pipe! and all the World adieu! This Night, at least, with me forget your Care; Chesnuts and Curds and Cream shall be your fare: The Carpet-ground shall be with Leaves o'erspread; And Boughs shall weave a Cov'ring for your Head. For see yon sunny Hill the Shade extends; And curling Smoke from Cottages ascends.