Classic Poem

XLVI.

Ye wanton Dryads and light-tripping Fawns ,
Ye jolly Satyrs , full of Lustyhead,
And ye that haunt the Hills, the Brooks, the Lawns;
O come with rural Chaplets gay dispread:
With Heel so nimble wear the springing Grass,
To shrilling Bagpipe, or to tinkling Brass;
Or foot it to the Reed: Pan pipes himself apace.

XLVII.

In this soft Season, when Creation smil'd,
A quivering Splendor on the Ocean hung,
And from the fruitful Froth, his fairest Child,
The Queen of Bliss and Beauty, Venus sprung.
The Dolphins gambol o'er the wat'ry Way,
Carrol the Naids, while the Triton 's play,
And all the sea-green Sisters bless the Holy-day.

XLVIII.

In Honour of her natal-Month the Queen
Of Bliss and Beauty, consecrates her Hours,
Fresh as her Cheek, and as her Brow serene,
To buxom Ladies, and their Paramours.
Love tips with golden Alchimy his Dart;
With rapt'rous Anguish, with an honey'd Smart
Eye languishes on Eye, and Heart dissolves on Heart.

XLIX.

A softly-swelling Hill, with Myrtles crown'd,
(Myrtles to Venus Algates sacred been)
Hight Acidale , the fairest Spot on Ground,
For ever fragrant and for ever green,
O'erlooks the Windings of a shady Vale,
By Beauty form'd for amorous Regale.
Was ever Hill so sweet, as sweetest Acidale ?

L.

All down the Sides, the Sides profuse of Flow'rs,
An hundred Rills, in shining Mazes, flow
Through mossy Grotto's Amaranthine Bow'rs,
And form a laughing Flood in Vale below:
Where oft their Limbs the Loves and Graces bay
(When Summer sheds insufferable Day)
And sport, and dive, and flounce in Wantonness of Play.