Sylvæ, or, The second part of Poetical miscellanies

OVID's Dream.

TWas Night and lazy sleep my Eyes confin'd, But left an open passage to my mind: These wondrous visions made a frightful train In too surprizing figures to be vain: At a large Mountains foot, a Grove arose, The shades lay thick and Birds beneath the boughs; A Green spread wide the wandring Eye detains, Water'd with springs that murmur'd thro' the Plains: Beneath the shade, methoughts, I careless lay, To cool the former fury of the day;

Yet tho I found the outward warmth retreat, I still was fire, and felt an inward heat. When lo a Cow, that left the meaner Herd For better Pastures, to my eyes appear'd; More white than falling snow to mortal view, Or Milk just frothing from the burdened Ewe: For common sight can make but small pretence Compar'd to fancy unconfin'd by sense: A Bull, the happy Consort of the Cow, Lay by her side, lookt pleas'd, and seem'd to low. But whilst he lay, and gently chew'd the Cud, Feeding again upon his former Food, Sleep weakning all his strength, he bent his head, And lay extended on the grassy bed: And as he slept a Pye fled nimbly down, Chatter'd a while, drew near, then bolder grown Peckt at the Cow; then chatter'd once again, The Cow appear'd uneasie at the Pain;

Till chattering on, he seem'd to please the Beast, Then ••led, but left a stain upon her breast. The Cow look'd round upon her sleeping Mate, As loath to leave him, and yet urg'd by fate; Thrice look'd, thrice low'd, but yet at last she fled To other Bulls, and wantonly she fed: Forgot the Pastures of the former Plain, And never look'd upon her Mate again. Heav'n! What's foreshew'd me by this strange por∣tent: If 'tis not a meer fancy what is meant? Tell sacred Augur, you are us'd to see Events in Cau••es, and read Fates decree. At this the Augur shook his reverend head, And pondering all the circumstances, said: The heat which you did to the shades remove To cool but could not, was the Heat of Love: The Cow, thy Mistress; white before betray'd; White is the decent colour for a Maid:

The Bull thy self, tho' scorn'd and hated now, The happy equal Consort of the Cow: The Pye th••t peckt, the Bawd, whose treacherous art Prevail'd upon thy Mistriss easie heart, And drew her to be false; what weak designs, And small Temptations, win when Nature joyns! The stain upon her Breast declares her sin, And shows the Scarlet faults that lurk within: My Blood grew cold at this surprizeing fright, I wak't, and all around stood deepest night.