Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 2.djvu/215

We leave the Delian Ports, and put to Sea. 170
By Naxos, fam'd for Vintage, make our way:
Then green Donysa pass; and Sail in sight
Of Paros Isle, with Marble Quarries white.
We pass the scatter'd Isles of Cylcades;
That, scarce distinguish'd, seem to stud the Seas. 175
The shouts of Sailors double near the shores;
They stretch their Canvas, and they ply their Oars.
All hands aloft, for Crete for Crete they cry,
And swiftly through the foamy Billows fly.
Full on the promis'd Land at length we bore, 180
With Joy descending on the Cretan Shore.
With eager haste a rising Town I frame,
Which from the Trojan Pergamus I name:
The Name it self was grateful; I exhort
To found their Houses, and erect a Fort. 185
Our Ships are haul'd upon the yellow strand,
The Youth begin to Till the labour'd Land.
And I my self new Marriages promote,
Give Laws: and Dwellings I divide by Lot.
When rising Vapours choak the wholesom Air, 190
And blasts of noisom Winds corrupt the Year:
The Trees, devouring Caterpillers burn:
Parch'd was the Grass, and blited was the Corn.
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$Nor scape the Beasts: for Syrius from on high,
With pestilential Heat infects the Sky: 195
My Men, some fall, the rest in Feavers fry.