THE JUDGMENT of MIDA S. TIMOLUS, MELINOE and AGNO, two Wood-nymphs. TIMOLUS. 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. MELINOE. That task, Sire of these fhades, is done. On yefter eve, We: We ply'd our nightly toils, nor ply'd we long, Fair Nature's genuine daughter, was there too, TIMOLUS. It was well. Agno, thy looks are penfive: What dejects AGNO. King of the woods, I tremble for the royal arbiter. 'Tis hard to judge, whene'er the great contend, 'Tis not the fentence of fair equity, But 'tis their pleasure that is right or wrong. TIMOLUS. |