STREPHON.
Inspire me, Phœbus, in my Delia's praise,[34]45
With Waller's strains, or Granville's moving lays![35]
A milk-white bull shall at your altars stand,
That threats a fight, and spurns the rising sand.[36]
DAPHNIS.
O Love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize,[37]
And make my tongue victorious as her eyes:50
No lambs or sheep for victims I'll impart,
Thy victim, Love, shall be the shepherd's heart.
STREPHON.
Me gentle Delia beckons from the plain,
Then hid in shades, eludes her eager swain;[38]
But feigns a laugh to see me search around,55
And by that laugh the willing fair is found.[39]
DAPHNIS.
The sprightly Sylvia trips along the green,
She runs, but hopes she does not run unseen,[40]
While a kind glance at her pursuer flies,[41]
How much at variance are her feet and eyes![42]60
STREPHON.[43]
O'er golden sand let rich Pactolus flow,[44]
And trees weep amber on the banks of Po;[45]
Bright Thames's shores the brightest beauties yield,
Feed here, my lambs, I'll seek no distant field.