Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/176

40 Lest his ill Arts or his malicious Tongue Shou'd poyson, or bewitch my growing Song. These Branches of a Stag, this tusky Boar (The first essay of Arms untry'd before) Young Mycon offers, Delia, to thy Shrine; But speed his hunting with thy Pow'r divine, Thy Statue then of Parian Stone shall stand; Thy Legs in Buskins with a Purple Band. This Bowl of Milk, these Cakes, (our Country Fare,) For thee, Priapus, yearly we prepare. Because a little Garden is thy care. But if the falling Lambs increase my Fold, Thy Marble Statue shall be turn'd to Gold. Fair Galatea, with thy silver Feet, O, whiter than the Swan, and more than Hybla sweet; Tall as a Poplar, taper as the Bole, Come charm thy Shepherd, and restore my Soul. Come when my lated Sheep, at night return; And crown the silent Hours, and stop the rosy Morn. May I become as abject in thy sight, As Sea-weed on the Shore, and black as Night: Rough as a Bur, deform'd like him who chaws Sardinian Herbage to contract his Jaws;