Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/130

Farewel my Pastures, my Paternal Stock,
My fruitful Fields, and my more fruitful Flock!
No more, my Goats, shall I behold you climb
The steepy Cliffs, or crop the flowry Thyme!105
No more, extended in the Grot below,
Shall see you browzing on the Mountain's brow
The prickly Shrubs; and after on the bare,
Lean down the deep Abyss, and hang in Air.109
No more my Sheep shall sip the Morning Dew;⁠$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
No more my Song shall please the Rural Crue:
Adieu, my tuneful Pipe! and all the World adieu!

TITYRUS.

⁠This Night, at least, with me forget your Care;

Chesnuts and Curds and Cream shall be your fare:
The Carpet-ground shall be with Leaves o'erspread;115
And Boughs shall weave a Cov'ring for your Head.
For see yon sunny Hill the Shade extends;
And curling Smoke from Cottages ascends.