Puteoli he passes, and survey'd
A Cave long honour'd for its awful Shade.
Here trembling Reeds exclude the piercing Ray,
Here Streams in gentle Falls thro' Windings stray,
And with a passing Breath cool Zephyrs play.
The Goatherd God frequents the silent Place,
As once the Wood-Nymphs of the Sylvan Race,
Till Appulus with a dishonest Air,
And gross Behaviour, banish'd thence the Fair.
The bold Buffoon, when-e'er they tread the Green,
Their Motion mimicks, but with Jests obscene.
Loose Language oft he utters; but e're long
A Bark in filmy Net-work binds his Tongue.
Thus chang'd, a base wild Olive he remains;
The Shrub the Coarseness of the Clown retains.
The Trojan Ships transform'd to Sea-Nymphs.
Mean while the Latians all their Pow'r prepare,
'Gainst Fortune, and the Foe to push the War.
With Phrygian Blood the floating Fields they stain;
But, short of Succours, still contend in vain.
Turnus remarks the Trojan Fleet illmann'd,
Unguarded, and at Anchor near the Strand;
He thought; and strait a lighted Brand he bore,
And Fire invades, what 'scap'd the Waves before.
The Billows from the kindling Prow retire;
Pitch, Rosin, Searwood on red Wings aspire,
And Vulcan on the Seas exerts his Attribute of Fire.
This, when the Mother of the Gods beheld,
Her tow'ry Crown she shook, and stood reveal'd;
Her brindl'd Lions rein'd, unveil'd her Head,
And hov'ring o'er her favour'd Fleet, she said:
Cease Turnus, and the heav'nly Pow'rs respect,
Nor dare to violate, what I protect.
