In Swiftness 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 wou'd not shun
My Love, but to my wifh'd Embraces run:
Wou'd languish in your turn, and court my Stay ;
And much repent of your 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 Shades 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 Side:
Not those of common Kinds; but such alone,
As in Phaacian Orchards might have grown:
Nor Chefnuts fhall be wanting to your Food,
Nor Garden-Fruits, nor Wildings of the Wood;
The laden Boughs for you alone shall bear ;
And yours fhall be the Product of the Year.

The Flocks, you fee, are all my own; beside
The reft that Woods and winding Vallies hide;
And those that folded in the Caves abide.

Afk 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 your felf, and pass your own Decree :
Behold their fwelling 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 reserv'd.
Nor are these Houfhold Dainties all my Store:
The Fields and Forefts will afford us more;
The Deer, the Hare, the Goat, the Savage 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,
Whofe Dam had left 'em on the naked Ground;
So like, that no Distinction cou'd be seen,
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 Face;

I late beheld it, in the watry Glass,

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

Not Jove, the fove you dream, that rules the Skies,
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 shady Grove, my Shoulders crown.
Nor think, because my Limbs and Body bear
A thick fet Underwood of bristling Hair,
My Shape deform'd: what fouler Sight can be,
Than the bald Branches of a leaflefs Tree?
Foul is the Steed 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.
The glorious Lamp of Heav'n, the radiant Sun,
Is Nature's Eye; and fhe's content with one.
Add, that my Father fways your Seas, and I,
Like you, am of the watry Family.

I make you his, in making you my own ;
You I adore, and kneel to you alone :
Jove, with his Fabled Thunder, I despise,
And only fear the Lightning of your Eyes.
Frown not, fair Nymph; yet I cou'd bear to be
Difdain'd, if others were difdain'd with me.
But to repulfe the Cyclops, and prefer

The Love of Acis, Heav'ns! I cannot bear.
But let the Stripling please himself; nay more,
Pleafe you, tho' that's the thing I most abhor;
The Boy fhall find, if e'er we cope in Fight,
These Giant Limbs endu'd with Giant Might.
His living Bowels from his Belly torn,

And scatter'd Limbs, shall on the Flood be born,
Thy Flood, ungrateful Nymph; and Fate fhall find
That Way for thee and Acis to be join'd.
For oh! I burn with Love, and thy Disdain
Augments at once my Paffion, and my Pain.
Tranflated Etna flames within my Heart,
And thou, Inhuman, wilt not ease my Smart.
Lamenting thus in vain, he rose, and ftrode
With furious Paces to the neighb'ring Wood :
Reftlefs his Feet, diftracted was his Walk;
Mad were his Motions, and confus'd his Talk.
Mad as the vanquish'd Bull, when forc'd to yield
His lovely Mistress, and forfake the Field.

Thus far unfeen I faw: when, fatal Chance
His Looks directing, with a fudden Glance,

}

Acis and I were to his Sight betray'd;
Where, nought fufpecting, we fecurely play'd.
From his wide Mouth a bellowing Cry he caft;
I fee, I fee, but this fhall be your last.
A Roar fo loud made Etna to rebound;
And all the Cyclops labour'd in the Sound.
Affrighted with his monftrous Voice, I fled,
And in the Neighb'ring Ocean plung'd my Head.
Poor Acis turn'd his Back, and, Help, he cry'd,
Help, Galatea, help, my Parent Gods,
And take me dying to your deep Abodes.
The Cyclops follow'd; but he fent before
A Rib, which from the living Rock he tore :
Though but an Angle reach'd him of the Stone,
The mighty Fragment was enough alone,
To crush all Acis; 'twas too late to fave,
But what the Fates allow'd to give, I gave:
That Acis to his Lineage fhould return;
And rowl, among the River Gods, his Urn.
Straight iffu'd from the Stone a Stream of Blood;
Which loft the Purple, mingling with the Flocd.
Then like a troubled Torrent it appear'd :
The Torrent too, in little space, was clear'd.
The Stone was cleft, and through the yawning Chink
New Reeds arose, on the new River's Brink.
The Rock, from out its hollow Womb, difclos'd
A Sound like Water in its Courfe oppos'd:
When (wond'rous to behold) full in the Flood,
Up ftarts a Youth, and Navel-high he stood.
Horns from his Temples rife; and either Horn
Thick Wreaths of Reeds (his Native Growth) adorn.
Were not his Stature taller than before,

His Bulk augmented, and his Beauty more,

His Colour blue, for Acis he might pafs:
And Acis chang'd into a Stream he was.

But, mine no more, he rowls along the Plains
With rapid Motion, and his Name retains.