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VERTUMNUS AND POMONA FROM THE FOURTEENTH BOOK OF OVID’S METAMORPHOSES - Alexander Pope, The Complete Poetical Works of Alexander Pope [1903]

Edition used:

The Complete Poetical Works of Alexander Pope. Cambridge Edition, ed. Henry W. Boynton (Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin and Co., 1903).

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VERTUMNUS AND POMONA

FROM THE FOURTEENTH BOOK OF OVID’S METAMORPHOSES

    • 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 flowery field,
    • The streams and fountains no delights could yield;
    • ’T was all her joy the ripening fruits to tend,
    • And see the boughs with happy burdens bend.
    • The hook she bore instead of Cynthia’s spear.
    • To lop the growth of the luxuriant year,10
    • To decent form the lawless shoots to bring,
    • And teach th’ obedient branches where to spring.
    • Now the cleft rind inserted grafts receives,
    • And yields an offspring more than Nature gives;
    • Now sliding streams the thirsty plants renew,
    • And feed their fibres with reviving dew.
    • These cares alone her virgin breast employ,
    • Averse from Venus and the nuptial joy.
    • Her private orchards, wall’d on every side,
    • To lawless sylvans all access denied.20
    • How oft the Satyrs and the wanton Fauns,
    • Who haunt the forests or frequent the lawns,
    • The God whose ensign scares the birds of prey,
    • And old Silenus, youthful in decay,
    • Employ’d their wiles and unavailing care
    • To pass the fences, and surprise the Fair?
    • Like these Vertumnus own’d his faithful flame,
    • Like these rejected by the scornful dame.
    • To gain her sight a thousand forms he wears;
    • And first a reaper from the field appears:30
    • Sweating he walks, while loads of golden grain
    • O’ercharge the shoulders of the seeming swain:
    • Oft o’er his back a crooked scythe is laid,
    • And wreaths of hay his sunburnt temples shade:
    • Oft in his harden’d hand a goad he bears,
    • Like one who late unyoked the sweating steers:
    • Sometimes his pruning-hook corrects the vines,
    • And the loose stragglers to their ranks confines:
    • Now gath’ring what the bounteous year allows,
    • He pulls ripe apples from the bending boughs:40
    • A soldier now, he with his sword appears;
    • A fisher next, his trembling angle bears:
    • Each shape he varies, and each art he tries,
    • On her bright charms to feast his longing eyes.
    • A female form at last Vertumnus wears, }
    • With all the marks of rev’rend age appears, }
    • His temples thinly spread with silver hairs: }
    • Propp’d on his staff, and stooping as he goes,
    • A painted mitre shades his furrow’d brows.
    • The God in this decrepit form array’d,50 }
    • The gardens enter’d, and the fruit survey’d; }
    • And, ‘Happy you!’ he thus address’d the maid, }
    • ‘Whose charms as far all other nymphs outshine,
    • As other gardens are excell’d by thine!’
    • Then kiss’d the Fair; (his kisses warmer grow
    • Than such as women on their sex bestow)
    • Then placed beside her on the flowery ground,
    • Beheld the trees with autumn’s bounty crown’d.
    • An elm was near, to whose embraces led,
    • The curling vine her swelling clusters spread:60
    • He view’d her twining branches with delight,
    • And prais’d the beauty of the pleasing sight.
    • ‘Yet this tall elm, but for this vine,’ he said,
    • “Had stood neglected, and a barren shade;
    • And this fair vine, but that her arms surround
    • Her married elm, had crept along the ground.
    • Ah! beauteous maid! let this example move
    • Your mind, averse from all the joys of love.
    • Deign to be lov’d, and every heart subdue!
    • What Nymph could e’er attract such crowds as you?70
    • Not she whose beauty urged the Centaur’s arms,
    • Ulysses’ queen, nor Helen’s fatal charms.
    • Ev’n now, when silent scorn is all they gain,
    • A thousand court you, tho’ they court in vain,
    • A thousand Sylvans, Demigods, and Gods,
    • That haunt our mountains and our Alban woods.
    • But if you ’ll prosper, mark what I advise,
    • Whom age and long experience render wise,
    • And one whose tender care is far above
    • All that these lovers ever felt of love80
    • (Far more than e’er can by yourself be guess’d);
    • Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the rest:
    • For his firm faith I dare engage my own;
    • Scarce to himself himself is better known.
    • To distant lands Vertumnus never roves;
    • Like you, contented with his native groves;
    • Nor at first sight, like most, admires the Fair; }
    • For you he lives; and you alone shall share }
    • His last affection as his early care. }
    • Besides, he’s lovely far above the rest,90
    • With youth immortal, and with beauty blest.
    • Add, that he varies every shape with ease,
    • And tries all forms that may Pomona please.
    • But what should most excite a mutual flame,
    • Your rural cares and pleasures are the same.
    • To him your orchard’s early fruits are due
    • (A pleasing off’ring when ’t is made by you);
    • He values these; but yet, alas! complains
    • That still the best and dearest gift remains.
    • Not the fair fruit that on yon branches glows100
    • With that ripe red th’ autumnal sun bestows;
    • Nor tasteful herbs that in these gardens rise,
    • Which the kind soil with milky sap supplies;
    • You, only you, can move the God’s desire.
    • O crown so constant and so pure a fire!
    • Let soft compassion touch your gentle mind;
    • Think ’t is Vertumnus begs you to be kind:
    • So may no frost, when early buds appear,
    • Destroy the promise of the youthful year;
    • Nor winds, when first your florid orchard blows,110
    • Shake the light blossoms from their blasted boughs!’
    • This, when the various God had urged in vain,
    • He straight assumed his native form again:
    • Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears,
    • As when thro’ clouds th’ emerging sun appears,
    • And thence exerting his refulgent ray,
    • Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day.
    • Force he prepared, but check’d the rash design;
    • For when, appearing in a form divine,
    • The Nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace120
    • Of charming features and a youthful face,
    • In her soft breast consenting passions move,
    • And the warm maid confess’d a mutual love.

AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM[ ]

This, the first mature original work of the author, was written in 1709, when Pope was in his twentieth year. It was not published till 1711.

[Page 67.]An Essay on Criticism.Part I.