Here rugged pines, the pride of Argos, rise,

Climb the tall hills and emulate the skies.

Here the dark holm and fatal cypress show

Their shady heads: here lofty beeches grow;

Whose spreading arms (lest trembling aspins find

Their neighbours fatal) curling ivies bind;

Still tow’rds the top their little tendrils twine,

Thro’ pale green leaves where golden clusters shine.

Here, with the rest, fair Venus’ myrtles bloom,

Nor yet unconscious of their former doom.

On spreading branches swell the feather’d choir,

Whose various notes in melody conspire;

Now from afar these various notes resound;

And creaking locusts wake the fields around.

In crystal drops a fount beneath distils,

Whose rippling water forms a thousand rills.

Scatter’d abroad, the weary flocks repose,

On thorny cliffs where gentle zephyr blows.

Here, where a stream divides the flow’ry glade,

The swain at ease enjoy’d the cooling shade;

All unsuspecting, on the grass he lay,

And gentle slumber stole his thoughts away.

But fate o’er man a veil of darkness throws,

Hence ev’ry joy and ev’ry sorrow flows.

Now from his slimy bed, where, all the day,

To shun its ardor, deep conceal’d he lay,

A monstrous Hydra rose; of various hue,

And round the shore his wonted course he drew.

Eager for air, he warns the trembling throng,

Where’er he leads his scaly length along;

Still more sublime his fulgent front he bears,

And ev’ry breeze his loud approach declares.

His lofty head a purple crest displays,

And his fierce eyeballs roll a threat’ning blaze.

At length the monster drew his sinuous way,

Where on a bank the sleeping shepherd lay;

He comes, he sees, he burns with furious ire,

His flaming eyes diffuse a fiercer fire,

Half springing on his prey, he still forbears,

And ’gainst th’ intruder all his arms prepares;

With burning rage more bright each colour shines,

And his vast length in bloody folds he twines.

While for th’ attack the raging serpent swell’d,

A little gnat his threat’ning form beheld;

Full swift he flew, and bent his anxious way,

Where, lost in sleep, the careless shepherd lay;

Full quick with piercing sting his front assail’d,

And bade him fly, e’er threat’ning fate prevail’d.

Swiftly he rose, and, raging with the wound,

Dash’d the poor gnat all trembling to the ground.

Now the sad gnat expends his latest breath,

And all his stiff’ning limbs grow cold in death.—

But now the swain beholds the serpent’s glare,

And sees him furious for the fight prepare;

Trembling and pale, with fearful haste he flew,

And from the wood a tree’s vast body drew;

With whose huge bulk (this aid ’tis hard to find

If chance produc’d, or fate itself design’d,)

Enrag’d, he clave the monster’s sounding mail

Now blows on blows his nodding crest assail;

Till from his temples pours the purple tide,