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III. To Daphnis sleeping.

On earth's soft lap, with leafy honours spread,
You, Daphnis, lull to rest your weary head:
While on the hill your snares for birds are laid,
Pan hunts your footsteps in the secret shade,
And rude Priapus, on whose temples wave
Gold ivy's leaves, resolv'd to find your cave:

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Ah! fly these revellers, at distance keep,
And instant burst the silken bands of sleep.