The FABLE of DRYOPE.
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No nymph of all Oechalia could compare
For beauteous form with Dryope the fair,
Her tender mother's only hope and pride,
(My self the offspring of a second bride.)
This nymph compress'd by him who rules the day,
Whom Delphi and the Delian isle obey,
Andræmon lov'd; and bless'd in all those charms
That pleas'd a God, succeeded to her arms.
A Lake there was, with shelving banks around,
Whose verdant summit fragrant myrtles crown'd
Those shades, unknowing of the fates, she sought,
And to the Naiads flow'ry garlands brought,
Her smiling babe (a pleasing charge) she prest
Within her arms, and nourish'd at her breast.
Not distant far a watry Lotos grows;
The spring was new, and all the verdant boughs
Adorn'd with blossoms, promis'd fruits that vie
In glowing colours with the Tyrian dye.
Of these she crop'd, to please her infant son;
And I my self the same rash act had done,
For beauteous form with Dryope the fair,
Her tender mother's only hope and pride,
(My self the offspring of a second bride.)
This nymph compress'd by him who rules the day,
Whom Delphi and the Delian isle obey,
Andræmon lov'd; and bless'd in all those charms
That pleas'd a God, succeeded to her arms.
A Lake there was, with shelving banks around,
Whose verdant summit fragrant myrtles crown'd
Those shades, unknowing of the fates, she sought,
And to the Naiads flow'ry garlands brought,
Her smiling babe (a pleasing charge) she prest
Within her arms, and nourish'd at her breast.
Not distant far a watry Lotos grows;
The spring was new, and all the verdant boughs
Adorn'd with blossoms, promis'd fruits that vie
In glowing colours with the Tyrian dye.
Of these she crop'd, to please her infant son;
And I my self the same rash act had done,
But
