University of Virginia Library

Vertumnus and Pomona.

VVhilst Peace o'er Latium spreads it's gentle Wings,
And each pleas'd Swain amidst his labours Sings;
In her own Orchards, undisturb'd with care,
Pomona flourisht, and was counted fair;
Her blooming Beauty still the same appears,
Not Blossom'd only in the Spring, like theirs.
She Loves no hunting, she admires no Game,
Covets no Groves, nor any Silver Stream;
Her happy Pleasures with her Fortunes suit,
She prunes her Trees, and she preserves her fruit,
Knows nought of Love, but what Tradition told,
And fears such Rapes as she had heard of old.
Therefore her Orchards with a Wall defends,
And lets in none but those she thinks her Friends.
Oft did the Satyrs, oft in vain, essay,
To make the Virgin to their lust a prey,
And force her thence, to be enjoy'd, away.
Oft too did Pan attempt the Charming Maid,
And oft Silenus made the Nymph afraid.
Priapus too, who others Fruits secures,
Longs most, Pomona, but to rifle yours.
Yet more than all the sweet Vertumnus blooms,
Drest in his Charms, where'er the Virgin comes.
He could all shapes, whate'er he fancy'd wear,
Would now a Souldier with his Arms appear,
An Angler next, and like a Reaper soon,
Chang'd as he pleas'd, and made all forms his own.
Hopeless to gain, now each disguise he fears,
And seems a Matron in declining Years.
To his own Godhead he the Maid prefers,
And quits his Beauties, but to gaze on her's.
Born on a staff, with creeping Feet he moves
To the fair object he so fiercely Loves.
Salutes her first, then eagerly he prest,
And claspt her closely to his Throbbing Breast.
Fond tho' he was, tho' his desires were strong,
He Lov'd too well, the Charming fair to wrong,
Tho' all-o'er Innocence, all soft, and Young.
The Vertuous Maid receives her Lover's Kiss,
And thought old Women's were the same as his.
Kindly she Thanks him for his Courteous care,
Welcomes his visit, bids him welcome there.
Prays him sit down on the next Bank, and view
Her rip'ning Fruits, where all the choicest grew.
Around he looks, around the Pregnant Trees,
And praises lavishly each plant he sees.
Observes a Vine, how with the Elm it spread,
Commends both that, and the industrious Maid,
Who gave its Clusters so secure a shade.
Then tells her, she should by such sights be led,
To Love the Pleasures of the Nuptial Bed.
How many Swains for her a Flame had born!
How had she rack'd them with continu'd scorn!
Gods in the Skies, and Demi-Gods below,
Have quit their Heav'n, and all the Joys they know,
To look, and gaze (my Beauteous Maid!) on you.
But, trust me, child, my kind advice receive,
And what I tell you for a truth believe;
The fair Vertumnus all your Charms approves,
And out of force he must confess he Loves.
He, only he, shall be my choice for you,
And you your self, I hope, will choose him too.
None knows him more than I, the Youth still blooms,
Sweet is his own, yet he all shapes assumes.
Wish what you will, he puts on every form,
And each he Wears, has some peculiar Charm.
He dwells in Gardens, and has charge of bow'rs,
His whole delight the very same with yours.
None is more Beauteous, none than he more strong,
The smiling God is thro' all Ages young.
To him First Fruits of all your Trees are due,
Which Joyful he receives each Year from you.
But now not those he will accept, but thee,
Thou must thy self, the next, blest Off'ring be.
Believe this Courtship from himself, suppose
What I have said the fair Vertumnus knows.
Shew then your Pity, be no more severe,
The God himself will soon be present here.
So may your Fruits survive the Winter Frost,
So may you ever the same Beauties boast,
And may nor they, nor ought of yours be lost.
Thus when he said, himself again he grew,
And stood all Charms before the Virgin's view.
Thro' Clouds of Age he darts his youthful rays,
And now the Glories of his Face displays.
All o'er Divine, he stands transported there,
And gains a Conquest o'er the wond'ring fair.