Past. IX.
PASTORALS.
55
Already we have half our way o'ercome;
Far off I can discern Bianor's Tomb;
Here, where the Labourer's hands have form'd a Bow'r
Of wreathing Trees, in Singing waste an Hour.85
Rest here thy weary Limbs, thy Kids lay down,
We've Day before us yet, to reach the Town:
Or if e'er Night the gath'ring Clouds we fear,
A Song will help the beating Storm to bear.
And that thou may'st not be too late abroad,90
Sing, and I'll ease thy Shoulders of thy Load.
MOERIS.
Another Song requires another Day.
When good Menalcas comes, if he rejoice,
And find a Friend at Court, I'll find a Voice.95