The Rape Of Proserpine.
Near Enna's Walls a spacious Lake is spread,
Fam'd for the sweetly-singing Swans it bred;
Pergusa is its Name: and never more
Were heard, or sweeter on Cayster's Shore.
Woods crown the Lake; and Phœbus ne'er invades
The tufted Fences, or offends the Shades.
Fresh fragrant Breezes fan the verdant Bow'rs,
And the moist Ground smiles with enamel'd Flow'rs.
The chearful Birds their airy Carols sing,
And the whole Year is one eternal Spring.
Here, while young Proserpine, among the Maids,
Diverts her self in these delicious shades;
While like a Child with busy Speed and Care
She gathers Lillies here, and Vi'lets there;
While first to fill her little Lap she strives,
Hell's grizly Monarch at the Shade arrives;
Sees her thus sporting on the flow'ry Green,
And loves the blooming Maid, as soon as seen.
His urgent Flame impatient of Delay;
Swift as his Thought he seiz'd the beauteous Prey,
And bore her in his sooty Car away.
The frighted Goddess to her Mother cries,
But all in vain, for now far off she flies;
Far she behind her leaves her Virgin Train;
To them too cries, and cries to them in vain.
And, while with Passion she repeats her Call,
The Vi'lets from her Lap, and Lillies fall:
She misses 'em, poor Heart! and makes new Moan;
Her Lillies, ah! are lost, her Vi'lets gone.
O'er Hills, the Ravisher, and Vallies speeds,
By Name encouraging his foamy Steeds;
He rattles o'er their Necks the rusty Reins,
And ruffles with the Stroke their shaggy Manes.
