Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/175

Past. VII. Your lowing Heifars, of their own accord, At wat'ring time will seek the neighb'ring Ford. Here wanton Mincius windes along the Meads, And shades his happy Banks with bending Reeds: And see from yon old Oak, that mates the Skies, How black the Clouds of swarming Bees arise. What shou'd I do! nor was Alcippe nigh, Nor absent Phillis cou'd my care supply, To house, and feed by hand my weaning Lambs, And drain the strutting Udders of their Dams? Great was the strife betwixt the Singing Swains: And I preferr'd my Pleasure to my Gains. Alternate Rhime the ready Champions chose: These Corydon rehears'd, and Thyrsis those. Ye Muses, ever fair, and ever young, Assist my Numbers, and inspire my Song. With all my Codrus O inspire my Breast, For Codrus after Phœbus sings the best. Or if my Wishes have presum'd too high, And stretch'd their bounds beyond Mortality, The praise of artful Numbers I resign: And hang my Pipe upon the Sacred Pine. Arcadian Swains, your Youthful Poet crown With Ivy Wreaths; tho surly Codrus frown. Or if he blast my Muse with envious Praise, Then fence my Brows with Amuletts of Bays.