NOT far remote, a cooling Grot was made,
In which the Virgin often sought a Shade:
Thick Shrubs, and fruitful Vines, around it grew;
And none, except herself, the Mansion knew.
To this obscure  the Royal Dame,
Rejoicing, with her lovely Captive came:
Then, from the Branches, with officious Haste,
She plucks the Fruits, which yield a sweet Repast:
That done, she, with her Bow, explores the Wood;
Pierc'd with her Shaft, the Fowl resigns his Blood.
Then back she hastens to her cool Retreat,
And for AVARO dress'd the grateful Meat:
To slake his Thirst, she next directs his Way,
Where crystal Streams in wild Meanders stray:
Nor lets him there, expos'd to Foes, remain;
But to the Cave conducts him safe again.