While you, my D APHNIS , on the leafy Bed,
To Slumber sweet recline your weary Head,
While on each Hill is plac'd the frequent Net,
Thee wanton Pan pursues with eager Feet:
With him S YLVANUS , crown'd with Ivy pale,
Thy cooling Cavern seeks o'er Hill and Dale.
O fly; prevent their rude resistless Hands,
And burst ambrosial Slumber's magic Bands.