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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341124" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Vertumnus and Pomona : Ovid's Metamorphoses, book 14 [v. 623-771]</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fair Pomona flourish'd in his reign;<br>Of all the Virgins of the sylvan train,<br>None taught the trees a nobler race to bear,<br>Or more improv'd the vegetable care.<br>To her the shady grove, the flow'ry field,<br>The streams and fountains, no delights could yield;<br>'Twas all her joy the ripening fruits to tend,<br>And see the boughs with happy burthens bend.<br>The hook she bore instead of Cynthia's spear,<br>To lop the growth of the luxuriant year,<br>To decent form the lawless shoots to bring,<br>And teach th' obedient branches where to spring.<br>Now the cleft rind inserted graffs receives,<br>And yields an offspring more than nature gives;<br>Now sliding streams the thirsty plants renew,<br>And feed their fibres with reviving dew.<br>These cares alone her virgin breast employ,<br>Averse from Venus and the nuptial joy.<br>Her private orchards, wall'd on ev'ry side,<br>To lawless sylvans all access deny'd.<br>How oft the Satyrs and the wanton Fawns,<br>Who haunt the forests, or frequent the lawns,<br>The God whose ensign scares the birds of prey,<br>And old Silenus, youthful in decay,<br>Employ'd their wiles, and unavailing care,<br>To pass the fences, and surprise the fair.<br>Like these, Vertumnus own'd his faithful flame,<br>Like these, rejected by the scornful dame.<br>To gain her sight a thousand forms he wears,<br>And first a reaper from the field appears,<br>Sweating he walks, while loads of golden grain<br>O'ercharge the shoulders of the seeming swain.<br>Oft o'er his back a crooked scythe is laid,<br>And wreathes of hay his sun-burnt temples shade:<br>Oft in his harden'd hand a goad he bears,<br>Like one who late unyok'd the sweating steers.<br>Sometimes his pruning-hook corrects the vines,<br>And the loose stragglers to their ranks confines.<br>Now gath'ring what the bounteous year allows,<br>He pulls ripe apples from the bending boughs.<br>A soldier now, he with his sword appears;<br>A fisher next, his trembling angle bears;<br>Each shape he varies, and each art he tries,<br>On her bright charms to feast his longing eyes.<br>A female form at last Vertumnus wears,<br>With all the marks of rev'rend age appears,<br>His temples thinly spread with silver hairs;<br>Propp'd on his staff, and stooping as he goes,<br>A painted mitre shades his furrow'd brows.<br>The God in this decrepit form array'd,<br>The gardens enter'd, and the fruit survey'd,<br>And 'Happy you!' (he thus address'd the maid)<br>'Whose charms as far all other nymphs out-shine,<br>'As other gardens are excell'd by thine!'<br>Then kiss'd the fair; (his kisses warmer grow<br>Than such as women on their sex bestow.)<br>Then plac'd beside her on the flow'ry ground,<br>Beheld the trees with autumn's bounty crown'd.<br>An Elm was near, to whose embraces led,<br>The curling vine her swelling clusters spread:<br>He view'd her twining branches with delight,<br>And prais'd the beauty of the pleasing sight.<br>'Yet this tall elm, but for his vine' (he said)<br>'Had stood neglected, and a barren shade;<br>And this fair vine, but that her arms surround<br>Her marry'd elm, had crept along the ground.<br>Ah beauteous maid, let this example move<br>Your mind, averse from all the joys of love.<br>Deign to be lov'd, and ev'ry heart subdue!<br>What nymph could e'er attract such crowds as you?<br>Not she whose beauty urg'd the Centaurs' arms,<br>Ulysses' Queen, nor Helen's fatal charms.<br>Ev'n now, when silent scorn is all they gain,<br>A thousand court you, tho' they court in vain,<br>A thousand sylvans, demigods, and gods,<br>That haunt our mountains and our Alban woods.<br>But if you'll prosper, mark what I advise,<br>Whom age, and long experience render wise,<br>And one whose tender care is far above<br>All that these lovers ever felt of love,<br>(Far more than e'er can by yourself be guess'd)<br>Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the rest.<br>For his firm faith I dare engage my own;<br>Scarce to himself, himself is better known.<br>To distant lands Vertumnus never roves;<br>Like you contented with his native groves;<br>Nor at first sight, like most, admires the fair;<br>For you he lives; and you alone shall share<br>His last affection, as his early care.<br>Besides, he's lovely far above the rest,<br>With youth immortal, and with beauty blest.<br>Add, that he varies ev'ry shape with ease,<br>And tries all forms that may Pomona please.<br>But what should most excite a mutual flame,<br>Your rural cares, and pleasures are the same:<br>To him your orchard's early fruits are due,<br>(A pleasing off'ring when 'tis made by you)<br>He values these; but yet (alas) complains,<br>That still the best and dearest gift remains.<br>Not the fair fruit that on yon' branches glows<br>With that ripe red th' autumnal sun bestows;<br>Nor tasteful herbs that in these gardens rise,<br>Which the kind soil with milky sap supplies;<br>You, only you, can move the God's desire:<br>Oh crown so constant and so pure a fire!<br>Let soft compassion touch your gentle mind;<br>Think, 'tis Vertumnus begs you to be kind!<br>So may no frost, when early buds appear,<br>Destroy the promise of the youthful year;<br>Nor winds, when first your florid orchard blows,<br>Shake the light blossoms from their blasted boughs!'<br>This when the various God had urg'd in vain,<br>He straight assum'd his native form again;<br>Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears,<br>As when thro' clouds th' emerging sun appears,<br>And thence exerting his refulgent ray,<br>Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day.<br>Force he prepar'd, but check'd the rash design;<br>For when, appearing in a form divine,<br>The Nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace<br>Of charming features, and a youthful face,<br>In her soft breast consenting passions move,<br>And the warm maid confess'd a mutual love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alexander+Pope">Alexander Pope</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341124" data-title="Vertumnus and Pomona : Ovid's Metamorphoses, book 14 [v. 623-771] de Alexander Pope" data-description="The fair Pomona flourish'd in his reign;
Of all the Virgins of the sylvan train,
None taught the trees a nobler race to bear,
Or more improv'd the vegetable care.
To her the shady grove, the flow'ry field,
The streams and fountains, no delights co..."></div>
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