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.