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TIMOLU S, God of the Mountain,
JUDGMENT of MIDA S.
TIMOLUS, MELINOE and AGNO, two Wood-nymphs.
GNO, To-day we wear our acron crown, The parsley wreath be thine; it is most meet We grace the prefence of these rival gods With all the honours of our woodland weeds. Thine was the task, Melinoe, to prepare The turf-built theatre, the boxen bow'r, And all the fylvan scen'ry.
Sire of these fhades, is done. On yefter eve,
We ply'd our nightly toils, nor ply'd we long,
Fair Nature's genuine daughter, was there too,
She fhone all ornament without a gem.
It was well. Agno, thy looks are penfive: What dejects Thy pleasure-painted aspect ? Sweetest nymph, That ever trod the turf, or fought the shade, Speak, nor conceal a thought.
King of the woods,
I tremble for the royal arbiter.
'Tis not the sentence of fair equity,