With this, he did a Herd of Goats controul;
Which by the way he met, and slily stole.
Clad like a Country Swain, he Pip'd, and Sung;
And playing drove his jolly Troop along.
With pleasure, Argus the Musician heeds;
But wonders much at those new Vocal Reeds.
And whosoe'er thou art, my Friend, said he,
Up hither drive thy Goats, and play by me:
This Hill has Browz for them, and Shade for thee.
The God, who was with ease induc'd to climb,
Began Discourse to pass away the time;
And still betwixt his Tuneful Pipe he plies;
And watch'd his Hour, to close the Keeper's Eyes.
With much ado, he partly kept awake;
Not suff'ring all his Eyes Repose to take:
And ask'd the Stranger, who did Reeds invent,
And whence began so rare an Instrument?
The Transformation of Syrinx into Reeds.
Then Hermes thus; A Nymph of late there was
Whose Heav'nly Form her Fellows did surpass.
The Pride and Joy of fair Arcadia's Plains,
Belov'd by Deities, ador'd by Swains:
Syrinx her Name, by Sylvans oft pursu'd,
As oft she did the Lustful Gods delude:
The Rural, and the Woodland Pow'rs disdain'd;
With Cynthia hunted, and her Rites maintain'd:
Like Phœbe clad, even Phœbe's self she seems,
So Tall, so Streight, such well-proportion'd Limbs:
The nicest Eye did no Distinction know,
But that the Goddess bore a Golden Bow,
Distinguish'd thus, the Sight she cheated too.
Descending from Lycæus, Pan admires
The matchless Nymph, and burns with new Desires.
