Pomona: a Pastoral

From orchards of ample extent, Pomona's compel'd to depart; And thus, as in anguish she went, The Goddess unburthen'd her heart:

"To flourish where liberty reigns, "Was all my fond wishes requir'd; "And here I agreed with the swains, "To live till their freedom expir'd.

"Of late you have number'd my trees, "And threaten'd to limit my store: "Alas—from such maxims as these, "I fear—that your freedom's no more.

"My flight will be fatal to May: "For how can her gardens be fine? "The blossoms are doom'd to decay, "(The blossoms, I mean, that were mine.)

"Rich Autumn remembers me well: "My fruitage was fair to behold! "My pears!—how I ripen'd their swell! "My pippins!—were pippins of gold!

"Let Ceres drudge on with her ploughs! "She droops as she furrows the soil; "A nectar I shake from my boughs, "A nectar that softens my toil.

"When Bacchus began to repine, "With patience I bore his abuse; "He said that I plunder'd the vine, "He said that I pilfer'd his juice.

"I know the proud drunkard denies "That trees of my culture should grow: "But let not the traitor advise; "He comes from the climes of your foe.

"Alas! in your silence I read "The sentence I'm doom'd to deplore: "'Tis plain the great PAN has decreed, "My orchard shall flourish no more."

The Goddess flew off in despair; As all her sweet honours declin'd: And PLENTY and PLEASURE declare, They'll loiter no longer behind.