Page:The Works of Alexander Pope (1717).djvu/394
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358
Part of the XIIIth BOOK of
The loaded trees their various fruits produce,
And clust'ring grapes afford a gen'rous juice;
Woods crown our mountains, and in ev'ry grove
The bounding goats and frisking heifers rove;
Soft rains and kindly dews refresh the field,
And rising springs eternal verdure yield.
Ev'n to those shores is Ithaca renown'd,
Where Troy's majestic ruins strow the ground.
At this, the chief with transport was possest,
His panting heart exulted in his breast:
Yet well dissembling his untimely joys,
And veiling truth in plausible disguise;
Thus, with an air sincere, in fiction bold,
His ready tale th' inventive hero told.
Oft' have I heard in Crete this island's name,
For 'twas from Crete, my native soil, I came;
Self-banish'd thence, I sail'd before the wind,
And left my children and my friends behind.
From fierce Idomeneus' revenge I flew,
Whose son, the swift Orsilochus, I slew,
And clust'ring grapes afford a gen'rous juice;
Woods crown our mountains, and in ev'ry grove
The bounding goats and frisking heifers rove;
Soft rains and kindly dews refresh the field,
And rising springs eternal verdure yield.
Ev'n to those shores is Ithaca renown'd,
Where Troy's majestic ruins strow the ground.
At this, the chief with transport was possest,
His panting heart exulted in his breast:
Yet well dissembling his untimely joys,
And veiling truth in plausible disguise;
Thus, with an air sincere, in fiction bold,
His ready tale th' inventive hero told.
Oft' have I heard in Crete this island's name,
For 'twas from Crete, my native soil, I came;
Self-banish'd thence, I sail'd before the wind,
And left my children and my friends behind.
From fierce Idomeneus' revenge I flew,
Whose son, the swift Orsilochus, I slew,
(With