These some old man sees wanton in the air, And praises the unhappy constant pair; Then to his friend the long-neck’d cormorant shows, The former tale reviving others’ woes. “That sable bird,” he cries, “which cuts the flood, With slender legs, was once of royal blood, His ancestors from mighty Tros proceed, The brave Laomedon, and Ganymede, (Whose beauty tempted Jove to steal the boy,) And Priam, hapless prince! who fell with Troy: Himself was Hector’s brother, and (had fate But given this hopeful youth a longer date) Perhaps had rivall’d warlike Hector’s worth, Though on the mother’s side of meaner birth. Fair Alyxothoe, a country maid, Bare Aesacus, by stealth, in Ida’s shade. He fled the noisy town, and pompous court, Loved the lone hills and simple rural sport, And seldom to the city would resort; Yet he no rustic clownishness profess’d, Nor was soft love a stranger to his breast; The youth had long the nymph Hesperia woo’d, Oft through the thicket, or the mead, pursued: Her haply on her father’s bank he spied,