Whofe Naiads never prattle as they play, But screen'd with Hedges flumber out the Day, There stands a flender Fern's aspiring Shade, Whose anfw'ring Branches regularly layd Put forth their anfw'ring Boughs, and proudly rife Three Stories upward, in the nether Skies. For Shelter here, to fhun the Noon-day Heat, An airy Nation of the Flies retreat; Some in foft Air their filken Pinions ply, Some Some roam the Scenes, or turning cease to roam; Preluding Mufick fills the lofty Dome. When thus a Fly. (if what a Fly can fay Deferves attention) rais'd the rural Lay. Where late Amintor made a Nymph a Bride, Joyful I flew by young Favonia's fide, Who, mindless of the Feafting, went to fip Thus ends theYouth, the buzzing Meadow rung, And thus the Rival of his Mufick fung. When When Suns by thousands fhone in Orbs of Dew, I wafted soft with Zephyretta flew ; Saw the clean Pail, and fought the milky Chear, While little Daphne feiz'd my roving Dear. Wretch that I was! I might have warn'd the Dame, Yet fat indulging as the Danger came, But the kind Huntress left her free to foar: Ah! guard, ye Lovers, guard a Mistress more. Thus from the Fern, whofe high-projecting Arms, The fleeting Nation bent with dusky Swarms, The Swains their Love in easy Musick breathe, When Tongues and Tumult ftun the Field beneath. Black Ants in Teams come darkning all the Road, Some call to march, and fome to lift the Load; They They ftrain, they labour with inceffant Pains Ye foolish Nurflings of the Summer Air, These gentle Tunes and whining Songs forbear; Your Trees and whisp'ring Breeze, your Grove and Love. Your Cupids Quiver, and his Mother's Dove, Let Bards to Business bend their vig'rous Wing, And fing but feldom, if they love to fing: Elfe, |