Classic Poem

Queen of the mountains far and near,
And of the woodlands wide,
Who, thrice invok'd, art swift to hear,
And save the maids with child;
This pine, that o'er my villa tow'rs,
And from its eminence embow'rs,
I dedicate alone to thee;
Where ev'ry year a pig shall bleed,
Lest his obliquity succeed
Against thy fav'rite tree.