Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/134

8 Is this, unkind Alexis, my reward, And must I die unpitied, and unheard? Now the green Lizard in the Grove is laid, The Sheep enjoy the coolness of the Shade; And Thestilis wild Thime and Garlick beats For Harvest Hinds, o'erspent with Toil and Heats: While in the scorching Sun I trace in vain Thy flying footsteps o'er the burning Plain. The creaking Locusts with my Voice conspire, They fry'd with Heat, and I with fierce Desire. How much more easie was it to sustain Proud Amarillis, and her haughty Reign, The Scorns of Young Menalcas, once my care, Tho' he was black, and thou art Heav'nly fair. Trust not too much to that enchanting Face; Beauty's a Charm, but soon the Charm will pass: White Lillies lye neglected on the Plain, While dusky Hyacinths for use remain. My Passion is thy Scorn; nor wilt thou know What Wealth I have, what Gifts I can bestow: What Stores my Dairies and my Folds contain; A thousand Lambs that wander on the Plain: New Milk that all the Winter never fails, And all the Summer overflows the Pails: Amphion sung not sweeter to his Herd, When summon'd Stones the Theban Turrets rear'd. Nor am I so deform'd; for late I stood Upon the Margin of the briny Flood: