Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/201

Past. X. As you are beauteous, were you half so true, Here cou'd I live, and love, and dye with only you. Now I to fighting Fields am sent afar, And strive in Winter Camps with toils of War; While you, (alas, that I shou'd find it so!) To shun my sight, your Native Soil forgo, And climb the frozen Alps, and tread th' eternal Snow. Ye Frosts and Snows her tender Body spare, Those are not Limbs for Ysicles to tear. For me, the Wilds and Desarts are my Choice; The Muses, once my Care; my once harmonious Voice. There will I sing, forsaken and alone, The Rocks and hollow Caves shall echo to my Moan. The Rind of ev'ry Plant her Name shall know; And as the Rind extends, the Love shall grow. Then on Arcadian Mountains will I chase (Mix'd with the Woodland Nymphs) the Savage Race. Nor Cold shall hinder me, with Horns and Hounds, To thrid the Thickets, or to leap the Mounds. And now methinks o'er steepy Rocks I go; And rush through sounding Woods, and bend the Parthian Bow: As if with Sports my Sufferings I could ease, Or by my Pains the God of Love appease. My Frenzy changes, I delight no more On Mountain tops, to chace the tusky Boar; No Game but hopeless Love my thoughts pursue: Once more ye Nymphs, and Songs, and sounding Woods adieu.