Though all the lovely realms of native day,
Through all the circled land, and circling fea;
With fertile feed fhe fill'd the pervious earth,
And ever fix'd the myftic ways of birth.
Let thofe love now, who never lov'd before;
Let thofe who always lov'd, now love the more.
'Twas she the parent, to the Latian shore
Through various dangers Troy's remainder bore.
She won Lavinia for her warlike fon,
And, winning her, the Latian empire won.
gave to Mars the maid, whofe honour'd womb Swell'd with the founder of immortal Rome. Decoy'd by fhows, the Sabine dames fhe led, And taught our vigorous youth the way to wed. Hence sprung the Romans, hence the race divine Through which great Cæfar draws his Julian line. Let thofe love now, who never lov'd before; Let thofe who always lov'd, now love the more. In rural feats the foul of pleafure reigns ; The life of Beauty fills the rural scenes; Ev'n Love (if Fame the truth of Love declare) Drew first the breathings of a rural air. Some pleafing meadow pregnant Beauty preft, She laid her infant on its flowery breast, From Nature's fweets he fipp'd the fragrant dew, He fail'd, he kiss'd them, and by kiffing grew. Let thofe love now, who never lov'd before ; Let thofe who always lov'd, now love the more. Now bulls o'er ftalks of broom extend their fides, Secure of favours from their lowing brides.
Now ftately rams their fleecy conforts lead,
Who bleating follow through the wandering fhade.
And now the Goddess bids the birds appear,
Raife all their music, and falute the year:
Then deep the fwan begins, and deep the fong
Runs o'er the water where he fails along :
While Philomela turns a treble ftrain,
And from the poplar charms the listening plain,
We fancy love exprest at every note,
It melts, it warbles, in her liquid throat.
Of barbarous Tereus fhe complains no more,
But fings for pleasure, as for grief before.
And still her graces rife, her airs extend,
And all is filence till the Syren end.
How long in coming is my lovely Spring!
And when shall I, and when the swallow fing?
Sweet Philomela, ceafe :-Or here I fit,
And filent lofe my rapturous hour of wit:
"Tis gone, the fit retires, the flames decay,
My tuneful Phoebus flies averse away.
His own Amycle thus, as ftories run,
But once was filent, and that once undone.
Let thofe love now, who never lov'd before;
Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.
Lychopynax, a licker of
difbes.
Embafichytros, a creeper
into pots.
Lychenor, a name for lick-
ing.
Troglodytes, one who runs
into holes.
Artophagus, who feeds on
bread.
Tyroglyphus, a cheese-
fcooper.
Pternoglyphus, a bacon-
Scooper.
Pternophagus, a bacon-
Cniffodioctes, one who follows the fteam of kitchens. Sitophagus, an eater of wheat. Meridarpax, one who plunders his fhare.
O fill my rifing fong with facred fire,
Ye tuneful Nine, ye fweet celestial quire?
From Helicon's imbowering height repair,
Attend my labours, and reward my prayer;
The dreadful toils of raging Mars I write,
The fprings of contest, and the fields of fight;
How threatening mice advanc'd with warlike grace,
And wag'd dire combats with the croaking race.
Not louder tumults shook Olympus' towers,
When earth-born giants dar'd immortal powers.
Thefe equal acts an equal glory claim,
And thus the Mufe records the tale of fame.
Once on a time, fatigued and out of breath,
And juft efcap'd the ftretching claws of death,
A gentle Mouse, whom cats pursued in vain,
Fled fwift of foot across the neighbouring plain,
Hung o'er a brink, his eager thirst to cool,
And dipp'd his whiskers in the standing pool;
When near a courteous Frog advanc'd his head;
And from the waters, hoarse-refounding, said,
What art thou, ftranger? what the line
you boaft?
What chance has caft thee panting on our coaft?
With strictest truth let all thy words agree,
Nor let me find a faithlefs Moufe in thee.
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