Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/194

54 Come then, and leave the Waves tumultuous roar, Let the wild Surges vainly beat the Shore. Or that sweet Song I heard with such delight; The same you sung alone one starry Night; The Tune I still retain, but not the Words. Why, Daphnis, dost thou search in old Records, To know the Seasons when the Stars arise? See Cæsar's Lamp is lighted in the Skies: The Star, whose Rays the blushing Grapes adorn, And swell the kindly ripening Ears of Corn. Under this influence, graft the tender Shoot; Thy Childrens Children shall enjoy the Fruit. The rest I have forgot, for Cares and Time Change all things, and untune my Soul to Rhyme: I cou'd have once sung down a Summer's Sun, But now the Chime of Poetry is done. My Voice grows hoarse; I feel the Notes decay, As if the Wolves had seen me first to Day. But these, and more than I to mind can bring, Menalcas has not yet forgot to sing. Thy faint Excuses but inflame me more; And now the Waves rowl silent to the Shore. Husht Winds the topmost Branches scarcely bend, As if thy tuneful Song they did attend: