V.

The sun is in the Lion mounted high; The Syrian star Barks from afar, And with his sultry breath infects the sky; The ground below is parched, the heavens above us fry: The shepherd drives his fainting flock Beneath the covert of a rock, And seeks refreshing rivulets nigh: The Sylvans to their shades retire, Those very shades and streams new shades and streams require, And want a cooling breeze of wind to fan the raging fire.