Sidor som bilder

Thus, warn'd in vain, with ftalking pace he


And stamp'd the margin of the briny flood
With heavy steps; and, weary, fought agen
The cool retirement of his gloomy den.

A promontory, fharp'ning by degrees,
Ends in a wedge, and overlooks the feas:
On either fide, below, the water flows:
This airy walk the giant-lover chofe;
Here on the midst he fate; his flocks, unled,
Their fhepherd follow'd, and fecurely fed.
A pine fo burly, and of length fo vast,
That failing ships requir'd it for a mast,
He wielded for a staff, his steps to guide:
But laid it by, his whistle while he try'd.
A hundred reeds, of a prodigious growth,
Scarce made a pipe proportion'd to his mouth:
Which when he gave it wind, the rocks around,
And wat'ry plains, the dreadful hifs refound.
I heard the ruffian fhepherd rudely blow,
Where, in a hollow cave, I fat below;
On Acis' bosom I my head reclin'd:
And still preserve the poem in

O lovely Galatea, whiter far

my mind.

Than falling fnows, and rifing lilies are;

More flow'ry than the meads, as crystal bright;
Erect as alders, and of equal height:

More wanton than a kid; more fleek thy skin,
Than orient shells, that on the shores are feen:
Than apples fairer, when the boughs they lade;
Pleafing, as winter fans, or fummer shade:
More grateful to the fight, than goodly plains;
And fofter to the touch, than down of fwans,
Or curds new turn'd; and fweeter to the taste,
Than swelling grapes, that to the vintage haste:
More clear than ice, or running ftreams, that stray
Thro garden plots, but ah! more swift than they.
Yet, Galatea, harder to be broke


Than bullocs, unreclaim'd to bear the yoke:
And far more stubborn than the knotted oak:
Like fliding streams, impoffible to hold;
Like them fallacious; like their fountains, cold:
More warping, than the willow, to decline
My warm embrace; more brittle than the vine;
Immoveable, and fixt in thy disdain :

Rough, as these rocks, and of a harder grain ;
More violent, than is the rifing flood:
And the prais'd peacock is not half fo proud:
Fierce as the fire, and fharp as thistles are;
And more outrageous, than a mother-bear:

Deaf as the billows to the vows I make;
And more revengeful than a troden snake:
In fwiftnefs fleeter than the flying hind,
Or driven tempefts, or the driving wind.
All other faults with patience I can bear;
But swiftness is the vice I only fear.

Yet if you knew me well, you would not fhun
My love, but to my wifh'd embraces run:
Would languifh in your turn, and court my stay;
And much repent of unwife delay.


My palace, in the living rock, is made
By nature's hand; a fpacious pleafing shade;
Which neither heat can pierce, nor cold invade.
My garden fill'd with fruits you may behold,
And grapes in clufters, imitating gold;
Some blushing bunches of a purple hue:
And these, and thofe, are all referv'd for you.
Red strawberries in fhades expecting stand,
Proud to be gather'd by fo white a hand.
Autumnal cornels latter fruit provide,

And plumbs, to tempt you, turn their gloffy


Not those of common kinds; but fuch alone,

As in Phæacian orchards might have

grown :





Nor chefnuts shall be wanting to your food,
Nor garden-fruits, nor wildings of the wood
The laden boughs for you alone shall bear
And yours shall be the product of the year.
The flocks, you fee, are all my own; befide
The reft that woods and winding vallies hide;
And those that folded in the caves abide.
Ask not the numbers of my growing store;
Who knows how many, knows he has no more.
Nor will I praise my cattle; truft not me,
But judge yourself, and pass your own decree:
Behold their swelling dugs; the fweepy weight
Of ewes, that fink beneath the milky freight;
In the warm folds their tender lambkins lie;
Apart from kids, that call with human cry.
New milk in nut-brown bowls is duly ferv'd
For daily drink; the reft for cheese referv'd.
Nor are these houfhold dainties all my store :
The fields and forefts will afford us more;
The deer, the hare, the goat, the favage boar.
All forts of ven'fon; and of birds the best;
A pair of turtles taken from the neft.

I walk'd the mountains, and two cubs I found,
Whose dam had left 'em on the naked ground;

[blocks in formation]


So like, that no diftinction could be feen;
So pretty, they were presents for a queen;
And fo they fhall; I took them both away;
And keep, to be companions of your play.

Oh raise, fair nymph, your beauteous face above
The waves; nor fcorn my presents, and my love.
Come, Galatea, come, and view my

I late beheld it, in the watry glass,

And found it lovelier, than I fear'd it was.
Survey my tow'ring ftature, and my size:

Not Jove, the Jove you dream, that rules the fkies,
Bears fuch a bulk, or is fo largely spread :
My locks (the plenteous harvest of my head)
Hang o'er my manly face; and dangling down,
As with a fhady grove, my fhoulders crown.
Nor think, because my limbs and body bear
A thick-fet underwood of briftling hair,
My shape deform'd: what fouler fight can be,
Than the bald branches of a leafless tree?
Foul is the fteed without a flowing mane;

And birds, without their feathers, and their train.
Wool decks the sheep; and man receives a grace
From bushy limbs, and from a bearded face.
My forehead with a fingle eye is fill'd,
Round as a ball, and ample as a shield.

« FöregåendeFortsätt »