TRANSLATIONS	FROM	OVID'S	METAMORPHOSES.
	107
	'	And	from	a	strumpet	shall	we	suffer	shame	?
	For	Caenis	still,	not	Caeneus	is	thy	name	:
	And	still	the	native	softness	of	thy	kind
	Prevails,	and	leaves	the	woman	in	thy	mind.
	Remember	what	thou	wert	:	what	price	was	paid
	To	change	thy	sex	:	to	make	thee	not	a	maid	;
	And	but	a	man	in	show	:	go,	card	and	spin	;
	And	leave	the	business	of	the	war	to	men.'
	"	While	thus	the	boaster	exercis'd	his	pride,
	The	fatal	spear	of	Caeneus	reach'd	his	side	:
	Just	in	the	mixtm-e	of	the	kinds	it	ran	;
	Betwixt	the	nether	beast	and	upper	man.
	Th:?	monster,	mad	with	rage,	and	stung	with	smart,
	His	lance	directed	at	the	hero's	heart	:
	It	strook	;	but	bounded	from	his	harden'd	breast;
	Like	hail	from	tiles,	which	the	safe	house	iuvegt;
	Nor	seem'd	the	stroke	with	more	effect	to	come,
	Than	a	small	pebble	falling	on	a	drum.
	He	next	his	fauchion	try'd,	in	closer	fight;
	But	the	keen	fauchion	had	no	power	to	bite.
	He	thrust	;the	blunted	point	return'd	again.
	*	Since	downright	blows,'	he	cry'd,	'	and	thrusts	are
	vain,
	I'll	prove	his	side	:'	in	strong	embraces	held,
	He	prov'd	his	side	;	his	side	the	sword	repell'd	'
	His	hollow	belly	echo'd	to	the	stroke	;
	Untouch'd	his	body,	as	a	solid	rock	;	[broke.
	Aim'd	at	his	neck	at	last,	the	blade	in	shivers
	"	Th'	impassive	knight	stood	idle,	to	deride
	His	rage,	and	offer'd	oft	his	naked	side	:
	At	length,	'	Now,	monster,	in	thy	turn,'	he	cry'd,
	*	Try	thou	the	strength	of	Caeneus:'	at	the	word
	He	thrust;	and	in	his	shoulder	plung'd	the	sword.
	Then	writh'd	his	hand;	and,	as	he	drove	it	down,
	Deep	in	his	breast,	made	many	wounds	In	one.
	"	The	Centaurs	saw,	enrag'd,th'	unhop'd	success;
	And	rushing	on,	in	crowds,	together	press;
	At	him,	and	him	alone,	their	darts	they	threw	:
	Repuls'd	they	from	his	fated	body	flew.
	Amaz'd	they	stood	;	till	Monychus	began,
	*	O	shame	!	a	nation	conquer'd	by	a	man	!
	A	woman-man	;	yet	more	a	man	is	he,
	Than	all	our	race	;	and	what	he	was,	are	we.
	Now,	what	avail	our	nerves	?	th'	united	force,
	Of	two	the	strongest	creatures,	man	and	horse	:
	Nor	goddess-born,	nor	of	Ixion's	seed,
	We	seem,	(a	lover	built	for	Juno's	bed)
	Master'd	by	this	half	man.	Whole	mountains
	throw
	With	woods	at	once,	and	bury	him	below.
	This	only	way	remains.	Nor	need	we	doubt
	To	choak	the	soul	within,	though	not	to	force	it
	out.
	Heap	weights,	instead	of	wounds:'	hechanc'dtosee
	Where	southern	storms	had	rooted	up	a	tree	;
	This,	rais'd	from	earth,	against	the	foe	he	threw;
	Th'	example	shown,	his	fellow	brutes	pursue.
	With	forest-loads	the	warrior	they	invade;
	Othrys	and	Pelion	soon	were	void	of	shade;
	And	spreading	groves	were	naked	mountains	made.
	Press'd	with	the	burthen,	Caeneus	pants	for	breath;
	And	on	his	shoulders	bears	the	wooden	death.
	To	heave	th'	intolerable	weight	he	tries	;
	At	length	it	rose	above	his	mouth	and	eyes	;
	Yet	still	he	heaves,	and,	struggling	with	despair,
	Shakes	all	aside,	and	gains	a	gulp	of	air	:
	A	short	relief,	which	but	prolongs	his	pain	;
	He	faints	by	fits	;	and	then	respires	again	:
	At	last,	the	burthen	only	nods	above,
	As	when	an	earthquake	stirs	th'	Idsean	grove.
	Doubtful	his	death	:	he	suffocated	seem'd
	To	most	;	but	otherwise	our	Mopsus	deem'd.
	Who	said,	he	saw	a	yellow	bird	arise
	From	out	the	pile,	and	cleave	the	liquid	skies	:
	I	saw	it	too	:	with	golden	feathers	bright,
	Nor	e'er	before	beheld	so	strange	a	sight.
	Whom	Mopsus	viewing,	as	it	soar'd	around
	Our	troop,	and	heard	the	pinions	rattling	sound,
	'	All	hail,'	he	cry'd,	'	thy	country's	grace	and	love;
	Once	first	of	men	below,	now	first	of	birds	above.*
	Its	author	to	the	story	gave	belief;
	For	us,	our	courage	was	increas'd	by	grief:
	Asham'd	to	see	a	single	man,	pursu'd
	With	odds,	to	sink	beneath	a	multitude,
	We	push'd	the	foe,	and	forc'd	to	shameful	fight	;
	Part	fell	;	and	part	escap'd	by	favour	of	the	night,"
	This	tale,	by	Nestor	told,	did	much	displease
	Tlepolemus,	the	seed	of	Hercules	:
	For,	often	he	had	heard	his	father	say,
	That	he	himself	was	present	at	the	fray;
	And	more	than	shar'd	the	glories	of	the	day.
	"	Old	Chronicle,"	he	said,	"	among	the	rest,
	Yoij	might	have	nam'd	A'.cides	at	the	least	:
	Is	he	not	worth	your	praise	?	"	The	Pylian	prince
	Sigh'd	ere	he	spoke;	then	made	this	proud	defence.
	"	My	former	woes,	in	long	oblivion	drown'd,
	I	would	have	lost;	but	you	renew	the	wound	:
	Better	to	pass	him	o'er,	than	to	relate
	The	cause	1	have	your	mighty	sire	to	hate.
	His	fame	has	fill'd	the	world,	and	reach'd	the	sky;
	(Which,	oh,	I	wish,	with	truth,	I	could	deny)	!
	We	praise	not	Hector;	though	his	name,	we	know,
	Is	great	in	arms	;	'tis	hard	to	praise	a	foe.
	"He,	your	great	father,	level'd	to	the	ground
	Messenia's	towers	:	nor	better	fortune	found
	Elis,	and	Pylas	;	that	a	neighbouring	state,
	And	this	my	own	:	both	guiltless	of*	their	fate.
	"	To	pass	the	rest,	twelve,	wanting	one,	he
	slew	;
	My	brethren,	who	their	birth	from	Neleus	drew.
	All	youths	of	early	promise,	had	they	liv'd	;
	By	him	they	perish'd	:	I	alone	surviv'd.
	The	rest	were	easy	conquest	:	but	the	fate
	Of	Periclymenos	is	wondrous	to	relate.
	To	him	our	common	grandsire	of	the	main
	Had	given	to	change	his	form,	and,	chang'd,	re
	sume	again.
	Vary'd	at	pleasure,	every	shape	he	try'd;
	And	in	all	beasts	Alcides	still	defy'd	:
	Vanquish'd	on	Earth,	at	length	he	soar'd	above	;
	Chang'd	to	the	bird,	that	bears	the	bolt	of	Jove	:
	The	new-dissembled	eagl	,	now	endu'd
	With	peak	and	pounces,	Hercules	pvrrsu'd,
	And	cuff'd	his	manly	cheeks,	and	tore	his	face;
	Then,	safj	retir'd,	and	tour'd	in	empty	space.
	Alcides	bore	not	long	his	flying	foe,
	But,	bending	his	inevitable	bow,
	Reach'd	him	in	air,	suspended	as	he	stood;
	And	in	his	pinion	fix'd	the	feather'd	wood.
	Light	was	the	wound	;	but	in	the	sinew	hung
	The	point	;	and	his	disabled	wing	unstrung.
	He	wheel'd	in	air,	and	stretch'd	his	vans	in	vain	;
	His	vans	no	longer	could	his	flight	sustain	:
	For	while	one	gather'd	wind,	one,	unsupply'd,
	Hung	drooping	down;	nor	pois'd	his	other	side.
	He	fell	:	the	shaft,	that	slightly	was	impress'd,
	Now	from	his	heavy	fall	with	weight	increas'd
	Drove	through	his	neck,	aslant	;	he	spurns	the
	ground,
	And	the	soul	issues	through	the	weazon's	wound.


TRANSLATIONS	FROM	HOMER'S	ILIAS.
	143
	Their	sovereign	seated	on	his	chair,	they	find	;
	His	pensive	cheek	upon	his	hand	reclin'd,
	And	anxious	thoughts	revolving	in	his	mind.
	With	gloomy	looks	he	saw	them	entering	in
	Without	salute	:	nor	durst	they	first	begin,
	Fearful	of	rash	offence	and	death	foreseen.
	He	soon,	the	cause	divining,	clear'd	his	brow	j
	And	thus	did	liberty	of	speech	allow.
	"	Interpreters	of	gods	and	men,	be	bold	:
	Awful	your	character,	and	uncontrol'd,
	Howe'er	unpleasing	be	the	news	you	bring,
	I	blame	not	you,	but	your	imperious	king.
	You	come,	I	know,	my	captive	to	demand	;
	Patroclus,	give	her	to	the	herald's	hand.
	But	you,	authentic	witnesses	1	bring,
	Before	the	gods,	and	your	ungrateful	king,
	Of	this	my	manifest	:	that	never	more
	This	hand	shall	combat	on	the	crooked	shore	:
	No,	let	the	Grecian	powers,	oppress'd	in	fight,
	Unpity'd	perish	in	their	tyrant's	sight.
	Blind	of	the	future,	and	by	rage	misled,
	He	pulls	his	crimes	upon	his	people's	head	:
	Forc'd	from	the	field	in	trenches	to	contend,
	And	his	insulted	camp	from	foes	defend.
	He	said	;	and	soon	obeying	his	intent,
	Patroclus	brought	Briseis	from	her	tent;
	Then	to	th'	intrusted	messengers	resign'd:
	She	wept,	and	often	cast	her	eyes	behind	:
	Forc'd	from	the	man	she	lov'd	:	they	led	her	thence,
	Along	the	shore,	a	prisoner	to	their	prince.
	Sole	on	the	barren	sands	the	suffering	chief
	Roar'd	out	for	anguish,	and	indulg'd	his	griefc
	Cast	on	his	kindred	seas	a	stormy	look,
	And	his	upbraided	mother	thus	bespoke	:
	"	Unhappy	parent	of	a	short-liv'd	son,
	Since	Jove	in	pity	by	thy	prayers	was	won
	To	grace	my	small	remains	of	breath	with	fame,
	Why	loads	he	this	imbitter'd	life	with	shame	?
	Suffering	his	king	of	men	to	force	my	slave,
	Whom,	well	deserv'd	in	war,	the	Grecians	gave."
	Set	by	old	Ocean's	side	the	goddess	heard	;
	Then	from	the	sacred	deep	her	head	she	rear'd	:
	Rose	like	a	morning-mist	;	and	thus	begun
	To	sooth	the	sorrows	of	her	plaintive	son	:
	"	Why	cries	my	Care,	and	why	conceals	his	smart?
	Let	thy	afflicted	parent	share	her	part."
	Then,	sighing	from	the	bottom	of	his	breast,
	To	the	sea-goddess	thus	the	goddess-born	ad-
	dress'd	:
	"	Thou	know'st	my	pain,	which	telling	but	recals:
	By	force	of	arms	we	raz'd	the	Theban	walls	;
	The	ransack'd	city,	taken	by	our	toils,
	We	left,	and	hither	brought	the	golden	spoils	;
	Equal	we	shar'd	them	;	but	before	the	rest,
	The	proud	PrerogatiTe	had	seiz'd	the	best.
	Chryseis	was	the	greedy	tyrant's	prize,
	Chryseis	rosy-cheek'd,	with	charming	eyes.
	Her	sire,	Apollo's	priest,	arriv'd	to	buy,
	With	pro	ffer'deifts	of	price,	his	daughter's	liberty.
	Suppliant	before	the	Grecian	chiefs	he	stood,
	Awful,	and	arm'd	with	ensigns	of	his	god	:
	Bare	was	his	hoary	head,	one	holy	hand
	Helf	forth	his	laurel-crown,	and	one,	his	sceptre
	of	command.
	His	suit	was	common,	but	above	the	rest
	To	both	the	brother-princes	was	address'd.
	With	shouts	of	loud	acclaim	the	Greeks	agree
	To	take	the	gifts,	to	set	the	prisoner	free.
	Not	so	the	tyrant,	who	with	scorn	the	priest
	Receiv'd,	and	with	opprobrious	words	dismiss'd.
	The	good	old	man,	forlorn	of	human	aid,
	For	vengeance	to	his	heavenly	patron	pray'd	:
	The	godhead	gave	a	favourable	ear,
	And	granted	all	to	him	he	held	so	dear	;
	In	an	ill	hour	his	piercing	shafts	he	sped	;
	And	heaps	on	heaps	of	slaughter'd	Greeks	lay-
	dead,
	While	round	the	camp	he	rang'd:	at	length	arose
	A	seer	who	well	divin'd	;	and	durst	disclose
	The	source	of	all	our	ills	:	I	took	the	word	;
	And	urg'd	the	sacred	slave	to	be	restor'd,
	The	god	appeas'd	:	the	swelling	monarch	storm	'd	:
	And	then	the	vengeance	vow'd,	he	since	perform'd	:
	The	Greeks,	'tis	true,	their	ruin	to	prevent,
	Have	to	the	royal	priest	his	daughter	sent	;
	But	from	their	haughty	king	his	heralds	came,
	And	seiz'd,	by	his	command,	my	captive	dame,
	By	common	suffrage	given	;	but,	thou,	be	won,
	If	in	thy	power,	t'	avenge	thy	injur'd	son	:
	Ascend	the	skies	;	and	supplicating	move
	Thy	just	complaints,	to	cloud-compelling	Jove.
	If	thou	by	either	word	or	deed	hast	wrought
	A	kind	remembrance	in	his	grateful	thought,
	Urge	him	by	that:	for	often	hast	thou	said
	Thy	power	was	once	not	useless	in	his	aid,
	When	he,	who	high	above	the	highest	reigns,
	Surpriz'd	by	traitor	gods,	was	bound	in	chains.
	When	Juno,	Pallas,	with	ambition	fir'd,
	And	his	blue	brother	of	the	seas	conspir'd,
	Thou	freed'st	the	sovereign	from	unworthy	bands,
	Thou	brought'st	Briareus	with	his	hundred	hands,
	(So	call'd	in	Heaven,	but	mortal	men	below
	By	his	terrestrial	name	jEgeon	know	:
	Twice	stronger	than	his	sire,	who	sat	above
	Assessor	to	the	throne	of	thundering	Jove.)
	The	gods,	dismay'd	at	his	approach,	withdrew,
	Nor	durst	their	unaccomplish'd	crime	pursue.
	That	action	to	his	grateful	mind	recal	;
	Embrace	his	knees,	and	at	his	footstool	fall:
	That	now,	if	ever,	he	will	aid	our	foes	;
	Let	Troy's	triumphant	troops	the	camp	enclos	:
	Ours	beaten	to	the	shore,	the	siege	forsake	;
	And	what	their	king	deserves,	with	him	partake.
	That	the	proud	tyrant,	at	his	proper	cost,
	May	learn	the	value	of	the	man	he	lost."
	To	whom	the	mother-goddess	thus	reply'd,
	Sigh'd	ere	she	spoke,	and	while	she	spoke	she	cry'd	:
	"	Ah,	wretched	me	!	by	Fates	averse,	decreed,
	To	bring	thee	forth	with	pain,	with	care	to	breed	!
	Did	envious	Heaven	not	otherwise	ordain,
	Safe	in	thy	hollow	ships	thou	shouldst	remain	'	f
	Nor	ever	tempt	the	fatal	field	again.
	But	now	thy	planet	sheds	his	poisonous	rays,
	And	short,	and	full	of	sorrow	are	thy	days.
	For	what	remains,	to	Heaven	I	will	ascend,
	And	at	the	Thunderer's	throne	thy	suit	commend.
	Till	then,	secure	in	ships,	abstain	from	fight;
	Indulge	thy	grief	in	tears,	and	vent	thy	spight.
	For	yesterday	the	court	of	Heaven	with	Jove
	Remov'd	;	'tis	dead	vacation	now	above.
	Twelve	days	the	gods	their	solemn	revels	keep,
	And	quaff	with	blameless	Ethiops	in	the	deep.
	Return'd	from	thence,	to	Heaven	my	flight	1	take.
	Knock	at	the	brazen	gates,	and	Providence	awake.
	Embrace	his	knees,	and	suppliant	to	the	sire,
	Doubt	not	I	will	obtain	the	grant	of	thy	desire.'*
	She	said	:	and	parting	left	him	on	the	place,
	Swoln	with	disdain,	resenting	his	disgrace	i
	Revengeful	thoughts	revolving	in	his	mind,
	He	wept	for	anger,	and	for	lave	he	piu'd.


144
	DRYDEN'S	POEMS.
	Meantime	with	prosperous	gales	Ulysses	brought
	The	slave,	and	ship	with	sacrifices	fraught,
	To	Chrysa's	port	i	where	entering	with	the	tide
	He	dropp'd	his	anchors,	and	his	oars	he	ply'd.
	Furl'd	every	sail,	and	drawing	down	the	mast,
	His	vessel	inoor'd	;	and	made	witli	haulsers	fast.
	Descending	on	the	plain,	ashore	they	bring
	The	hecatomb	to	please	the	shooter	king.
	The	dame	before	an	altar's	holy	fire
	Ulysses	led	;	and	thus	bespoke	her	sire	:
	"	Reverenc'd	be	thou,	and	be	thy	god	ador'd	:
	The	king	of	men	thy	daughter	has	restor'd	;
	And	sent	by	me	with	presents	and	with	prayer	;
	He	recommends	him	to	thy	pious	care.
	That	Phcebus	at	thy	suit	his	wrath	may	cease,
	And	give	the	penitent	offenders	peace."
	He	said,	and	gave	her	to	her	father's	hands,
	Who	glad	receiv'd	her,	free	from	servile	bands.
	This	done,	in	order	they,	with	sober	grace,
	Their	gifts	around	the	well-built	altar	place.
	Then	wash'd,	and	took	the	cakes	;	while	Chryses
	stood
	With	hands	upheld,	arid	thusinvok'd	his	god	:
	"	God	of	the	silver	bow,	whose	eyes	survey
	The	sacred	Cilia,	thou	whose	awful	sway
	Chrysa	the	bless'd,	and	Tenedos	obey	:
	Now	hear,	as	thou	before	my	prayer	hast	heard,
	Against	the	Grecians	and	their	prince	preferr'd	:
	Once	thou	hast	honour'd,	honour	once	again
	Thy	priest	;	nor	let	his	second	vows	be	vain.
	I?ut	from	th'	afflicted	host	and	humbled	prince
	Avert	thy	wrath,	and	cease	thy	pestilence."
	.	Apollo	heard,	and,	conquering	his	disdain,
	Unbent	his	bow,	and	Greece	respir'd	again.
	Now	when	the	solemn	rites	of	prayer	were	past,
	Their	salted	cakes	on	crackling	flames	they	cast.
	Then,	turning	back,	the	sacrifice	they	sped	:
	The	fatted	oxen	slew,	and	flea'd	the	dead.
	Chopp'd	off	their	nervous	thighs,	and	next	pre-
	par'd
	T'	involve	the	lean	in	cauls,	and	mend	with	lard.
	Sweet-breads	and	collopswere	with	skewers	prick'd
	About	the	sides	;	imbibing	what	they	deck'd.
	The	priest	with	holy	hands	was	seen	to	tine
	The	cloven	wood,	and	pour	the	ruddy	wine.
	The	youth	approach'd	the	fire,	and	as	it	burn'd,
	On	five	sharp	broachers	rank'd,	the	roast	they
	turn'd	;
	These	morsels	stay'd	their	stomachs	;	then	the	rest
	They	cut	in	legs	and	fillets	for	the	feast;
	Which	drawn	and	serv'd,	their	hunger	they	appease
	With	savory	meat,	and	set	their	minds	at	ease.
	Now	when	the	rage	of	eating	was	repell'd,
	The	boys	with	generous	wine	the	goblets	fill'd.
	The	first	libations	to	the	gods	they	pour	:
	And	then	with	songs	indulge	the	genial	hour.
	Holy	debauch	!	Till	day	to	night	they	bring,
	With	hymns	and	paeans	to	the	bowyer	king.
	At	sun-set	to	their	ship	they	make	return,
	And	snore	secui'e	on	decks,	till	rosy	morn.
	The	skies	with	dawning	day	were	purpled	o'er	;
	Awak'd,	with	labouring	oars	they	leave	the	shore	:
	The	power	appeas'd,	with	winds	suffic'd	the	sail,
	The	bellying	canvass	strutted	with	the	gale	;
	The	waves	indignant	roar	with	surly	pride,
	And	press	against	the	sides,	and,	beaten	off,	divide.
	T/hey	cut	the	foamy	way,	with	force	impell'd
	Superior,	till	the	Trojan	port	they	held	:
	Then	hauling	on	the	strand	their	galley	moor,
	And	pitch	their	tents	along	the	crooked	shore.
	Meantime	the	goddess-born	in	secret	pin'd;
	Nor	visited	the	camp,	nor	in	the	council	join'd,
	But,	keeping	close,	his	gnawing	heart	he	fed
	With	hopes	of	vengeance	on	the	tyrant's	head	:
	And	wish'd	for	bloody	wars	and	mortal	wounds,
	And	of	the	Greeks	oppress'd	in	fight	to	hear	the
	dying	sounds.	[race,
	Now,	when	twelve	days	complete	had	run	their
	The	gods	bethought	them	of	the	cares	belonging
	to	their	place.
	Jove	at	their	head	ascending	from	the	sea,
	A	shoal	of	puny	powers	attend	his	way.
	Then	Thetis,	not	unmindful	of	her	son,
	Emerging	from	the	deep,	to	beg	her	boon,
	Pursued	their	track	;	andwaken'd	from	his	rest,
	Before	the	sovereign	stood	a	morning	guest.
	Him	in	the	circle,	but	apart,	she	found	:
	The	rest	at	awful	distance	stood	around.
	She	bow'd,	and	ere	she	durst	her	suit	begin,
	One	hand	embrac'd	his	knees,	one	prop'd	his	chin.
	Then	thus	:	"	If	I,	celestial	sire,	in	ought
	Have	serv'd	thy	will,	or	gratify'd	thy	thought,
	One	glimpse	of	glory	to	my	issue	give	;
	Grnc'd	for	the	little	time	he	has	to	live.
	Dishonour'd	by	the	king	of	men	he	stands	:
	His	rightful	prize	is	ravish'd	from	his	hands.
	But	thou,	O	father,	in	my	son's	defence,
	Assume	thy	power,	assert	thy	providence.
	Let	Troy	prevail,	till	Greece	th'	affront	has	paid
	With	doubled	honours	;	and	redeem'd	his	aid."
	She	ccas'd,	but	the	considering	god	was	mule,
	Till	she,	resolv'd	to	win,	renew'd	her	suit:
	Nor	loos'd	her	hold,	but	forc'd	him	to	reply,
	"	Or	grant	me	my	petition,	or	deny	:
	Jove	cannot	fear:	then	tell	me	to	my	face,
	That	I,	of	all	the	gods,	am	least	in	grace.
	This	1	can	bear."	The	Cloud-compelle"	mourn'd,
	And,	sighing	first,	this	answer	he	return'd	:
	"	Know'st	thou	what	clamours	will	disturb	my
	reign,
	What	my	stunn'd	ears	from	Juno	must	sustain	?
	In	council	she	gives	licence	to	her	tongue,
	Loquacious,	brawling,	ever	in	the	wrong.
	And	now	she	will	my	partial	power	upbraid,
	If,	alienate	from	Greece,	I	give	the	Trojans	aid.
	But	thou	depart,	and	shun	her	jealous	sight,
	The	care	be	mine,	to	do	Pelides	right.
	Go	then,	and	on	the	faith	of	Jove	rely	:
	When,	nodding	to	thy	suit,	he	bows	the	sky.
	This	ratifies	th'	irrevocable	doom	:
	The	sign	ordain'd,	that	what	I	will	shall	come	:
	The	stamp	of	Heaven,	and	seal	of	Fate."	He	said,
	And	shook	the	sacred	honours	of	his	head.
	With	terrour	trembled	Heaven's	subsiding	hill	:
	And	from	his	shaken	curls	ambrosial	dews	distil.
	The	goddess	goes	exulting	from	his	sight,
	And	seeks	the	seas	profound	;	and	leaves	the
	realms	of	light,
	He	moves	into	his	hall	:	the	powers	resort,
	Each	from	his	house	to	fill	the	sovereign's	couit.
	Nor	waiting	summons,	nor	expecting	stood	;
	But	met	with	reverence,	and	receiv'd	the	god.
	He	mounts	the	throne	;	and	Juno	took	her	place	:
	But	sullen	Discontent	sate	lowering	on	her	face.	.
	With	jealous	eyes/at	distance	she	had	seen,
	Whispering	with	Jove,	the	silver-footed	queen	;
	Then,	impotent	of	tongue	(her	silence	broke)
	Thus	turbulent	in	rattling	tone	she	spoke	:
	"	Author	of	ills,	and	close	contriver	Jove,
	Which	of	thy	dames,	what	prostitute	of	Love,


548
	ADDISON'S	POEMS.
	The	breathless	Phaeton,	with	flaming	hair,
	Shot	from	the	chariot,	like	a	falling	star,
	That	iu	a	summer's	evening	from	the	top
	Of	Heaven	drops	down,	or	seems	at	least	to	drop	;
	Till	on	the	Po	his	blasted	corpse	was	hurl'd,
	Far	from	his	country,	in	the	western	world.
	PHAETON'S	SISTERS	TRANSFORMED	INTO	TREES.
	THE	Latian	nymphs	came	round	him,	and
	amaz'd
	On	the	dead	youth,	transfix'd	with	thunder,	gaz'd;
	And,	whilst	yet	smoking	from	the	bolt	he	lay,
	His	shatter'd	body	to	a	tomb	convey,
	And	o'tr	the	tomb	an	epitaph	devise:
	4<	Here	he	who	drove	the	Sun's	bright	chariot	lies;
	His	father's	fiery	steeds	he	could	not	guide,
	But	in	the	glorious	enterprise	he	dy'd."
	Apollo	hid	his	face,	and	pin'd	for	grief,
	And,	if	the	story	may	deserve	belief,
	The	space	of	one	whole	day	is	said	to	run,
	From	morn	to	wonted	eve,	without	a	Sun	:
	The	burning	ruins,	with	a	fainter	ray,
	Supply	the	Sun,	and	counterfeit	a	day,
	A	day	that	still	did	Nature's	face	disclose:
	This	comfort	from	the	mighty	mischief	rose.
	But	Ciymene,	erirag'd	with	grief,	laments,
	And,	as	her	grief	inspires,	her	passion	vents	:
	Wild	for	her	son,	and	frantic	in	her	woes,
	With	hair	dishevel'd,	round	the	world	she	goes,
	To	seek	where'er	his	body	might	be	cast;
	Till,	on	the	borders	of	the	Po,	at	last
	The	name	hiscrib'd	on	the	new	tomb	appears;
	The	dear,	dear	name	she	bathes	in	flowing	tears,
	Hangs	o'er	the	tomb,	unabie	to	depart,
	And	hugs	the	marble	to	her	throbbing	heart.
	Her	daughters	too	lament,	and	sigh	and	mourn,
	{A	fruitless	tribute	to	their	brother's	urn;)
	And	beat	their	naked	bosoms,	and	complain,
	And	call	aloud	for	Phaeton	in	vain	:
	All	the	long	night	their	mournful	watch	they
	keep,
	And	all	the	day	stand	round	the	tomb	and	weep.
	Four	times,	revolving,	the	full	Moon	return'd;
	(5o	long	the	mother	and	the	daughters	mourn'd;
	When	now	the	eldest,	Phaethusa,	strove
	To	rest	her	weary	limbs,	but	could	not	move;
	iampetia	would	have	hclp'd	her,	but	she	found.
	Herself	withheld,	and	rooted	to	the	ground:
	A	third	in	wild	affliction,	as	she	grieves,
	"Would	rend	her	hair,	but	fills	her	hand	with	leaves;
	One	sees	her	thighs	transform'd,	another	views
	Her	arms	shot	out,	and	branching	into	boughs.
	And	now	their	legs,	and	breasts,	and	bodies,
	stood
	Crusted	with	bark,	and	hardening	into	wood;
	But	still	above	were	female	heads	display'd,
	And	mouths	that	call'd	the	mother	to	their	aid.
	What	could,	alas	!	the	weeping	mother	do	?
	From	this	to	that	with	eager	haste	she	flew,
	And	kiss'd	her	sprouting	daughters	as	they	grew.
	J5he	tears	the	bark	that	to	each	body	cleaves,
	And	from	the	verdant	fingers	strips	the	leaves	:
	The	blood	came	trickling,	where	she	tore	away
	The	leaves	and	bark:	the	maids	were	heard	to
	say,
	ft	Forbear,	mistaken	parent,	oh	!	forbear;
	A	wounded	daughter	in	each	tree	you	tear;
	Farewell	for	ever."	Here	th,e	baric	increas'd,
	(Clps'd	on	jtheir	faces,	arid	their	words	suppress'd.
	The	new-made	trees	in	tears	of	amber	run,
	Which,	harden'd	into	value	by	the	Sun,
	Distil	for	ever	on	the	streams	below	:
	The	limpid	streams	their	radiant	treasure	show,
	Mix'd	in	the	sand;	whence	the	rich	drops	con-
	vey'd	'
	Shine	in	the	dress	of	the	bright	Latian	maid.	*
	THE	/TRANSFORMATION	OF	CYCNUS	INTO	A
	SWAN.
	CYCNUS	beheld	the	nymphs	transform'd,	ajly'd
	To	their	dead	brother,	on	the	mortal	side,
	In	friendship	and	affection	nearer	bound;
	He	left	the	cities	and	the	realms	he	own'd,
	Through	pathless	fields	and	lonely	shores	to	range,
	And	woods,	made	thicker	by	the	sisters'	change.
	Whilst	here,	within	the	dismal	gloom,	alone,
	The	melancholy	monarch	made^his	moan,
	His	voice	was	lessen'd,	as	he	try'd	to	speak,
	And	issued	through	a	long	extended	neck;
	His	hair	transforms	to	down,	his	fingers	meet
	In	skinny	films,	arid	shape	his	oary	feet;
	From	both	his	sides	the	wings	and	feathers	break;
	And	from	his	mouth	proceeds	a	blur/ied	beak:
	All	Cycnus	now	into	a	swan	was	turn'd,
	Who,	still	remembering	how	his	kinsman	burn'd,
	To	solitary	pools	and	lakes	retires,
	And	loves	the	waters	as	opposVl	to	fires.
	Mean-while	Apollo	in	a	gloomy	shade,
	The	native	lustre	of	his	brows	decay'd,
	Indulging	sorrow,	sickens	at	the	sight
	Of	his	own	sun-shine,	and	abhors	the	light:
	The	hidden	griefs,	that	in	his	bosom	vise,
	Sadden	his	looks,	and	overcast	his	eyes,
	As	when	some	dusky	orb	obstructs	his	ray,
	And	sullies,	in	a	dim	eclipse,	the	day.
	Now	secretly	with	inwani	griefs	he	pin'd,
	Now	warm	resentments	to	his	griefs	he	join'd,
	And	now	renounc'd	his	office	to	mankind.
	"	E'er	since	the	birth	of	Time,"	said	he,	<	I've
	borne
	A	long	ungrateful	toil	without	return;
	Let	now	some	other	manage,	if	he	dare,
	The	fiery	steeds	and	mount	the	burning	car,
	Or,	if	none	else,	let	Jove	his	fortune	try,
	And	learn	to	lay	his	murdering	thunder	by;
	Then	will	he	own,	perhaps,	but	own	too	late,
	My	son	deserv'd	not	so	severe	a	fate."	[pray
	The	gods	stand	round	him,	as	he	mourns,	and
	He	would	resume	the	conduct	of	the	day,
	Nor	let	the	world	be	lost	in	endless	night	:
	Jove	too	himself,	descending	from	his	height,
	Excuses	what	had	happen'd,	and	entreats,
	Majestically	mixing	prayers	and	threats.
	Prevail'd	upon	at	length,	again	he	took
	The	harness'd	steeds,	that	still	with	horrour	shook,
	And	plies	them	with	the	lash,	and	whips	them	on,
	And	as	he	whips,	upbraids	them	with	his	son.
	THE	STORY	OF	CALISTO.
	THE	day	was	settled	in	its	course;	and	Jove
	Walk'dthe	wide	circuit	of	the	Heavens	above,
	To	search	if	any	cracks	or	flaws	were	made:
	But	all	was	safe;	the	Earth	he	then	survey'd,
	And	cast	an	eye	on	every	different	coast,
	And	every	land;	but	on	Arcadia	most.
	Her	fields	he	cioth'd,	and	cheer'd	her	blasted	fac*
	With	running	fountains,	and	with	springing


OVID'S	METAMORPHOSES.	BOOK	IT.
	549
	No	tracts	of	Heaven's	destructive	fire	remain	;
	The	fields	and	woods	revive,	aud	Nature	smiles
	again.
	But,	as	the	god	walk'd	to	and	fro	the	Earth,
	And	rais'd	the	plants,	and	gave	the	spring	its	birth,
	By	chance	a	fair	Arcadian	nymph	he	view'd,
	And	felt	the	lovely	charmer	in	his	blood.
	The	nymph	nor	spun,	nor	dressM	with	artful	pride,
	Her	vest	was	gather'd	up,	her	hair	was	ty'd;
	Now	in,	her	hand	a	slender	spear	she	bore,
	Now	a	light	quiver	on	her	shoulders	wore-
	To	chaste	.Diana	from	her	youth	inclin'd,
	The	sprightly	warriors	of	the	wood	she	join'd.
	Diana	too	the	gentle	huntress	lov'd,
	Nor	was	there	one	of	all	the	nymphs	that	rov'd
	O'er	Maenalus,	amid	the	maiden	throng,
	More	favour'd	once;	but	favour	lasts	not	long.
	The	Sun	now	shone	in	all	its	strength,	and	drove
	The	heated	virgin	panting	to	a	grove;
	The	grove	around	a	grateful	shadow	cast	:
	She	dropt	her	arrows,	and	her	bow	unbrae'd	;
	She	flung	herself	on	the	cool	grassy	bed	;
	And	on	the	painted	quiver	rais'd	her	head.
	Jove	saw	the	charming	huntress	unprcpar'd,
	Stre^ch'd	on	the	verdant	turf	without	a	guard.
	"	Here	I	am	safe,	1	'	he	cries,	"	from	Juno's	eye;
	Or	should	my	jealous	queen	the	theft	descry,
	Yet	would	I	venture	on	a	theft	like	this,
	And	stand	her	rage	for	such,	for	such	a	bliss	!"
	Diana's	shape	and	habit	straight	he	took,
	Soften'd	his	brows,	and	smooth'd	his	awful	look,
	And	mildly	in	a	female	accent	spoke.
	"	How	fares	my	girl	?	How	went	the	morning
	;	chaser''
	To	whom	the	virgin,	starting	from	the	grass,
	*'	AH	hail,	bright	deity,	whom	I	prefer
	To	Jove	himself,	though	Jove	himself	were	here."
	The	god	was	nearer	than	she	thought,	and	heard
	Well-pleas'd	himself	before	himself	preferr'd.
	He	then	salutes	her	with	a	warm	embrace;
	And,	ere	she	half	had	told	the	morning	chase,
	With	love	inflam'd,	and	eager	on	his	bliss,
	Smother'd	her	words,	aud	stopt	her	with	a	kiss;
	His	kisses	with	unwonted	ardour	glow'd,
	Nor	could	Diana's	shape	conceal	the	god.
	The	virgin	did	whate'er	a	virgin,	could
	(Sure	Juno	must	have	pardon'd,	had	she	view'd);
	With	all	her	might	against	his	force	she	strove:
	But	how	can	mortal	maids	contend	with	Jove	!
	Possest	at	length	of	what	his	heart	desii'd,
	Back	to	his	Heavens	th'	insulting	god	retir'd.
	The	lovely	huntress,	rising	from	the	grass,
	With	down-cast	eyes,	and	with	a	blushing	face,
	By	shame	.confounded,	and	by	fear	dismay'd,
	Flew	from	the	covert	of	the	guilty	shade,
	And	almost,	in	the	tumult	of	her	mind,
	Left	her	forgotten	bow	and	shafts	behind.
	:	But	now	Diana,	with	a	sprightly	train
	Of	quiver'd	virgins,	bounding	o'er	the	plain,
	Call'd	to	the	nymph:	The	nymph	began	to	fear
	A	second	fraud,	a	Jove	disguis'd	in	her;
	But,	when	she	saw	the	sister	nymphs,	suppress'd
	Her	rising	fears,	and	mingled	with	the	rest.
	How	in	the	look	does	conscious	guilt	appear!
	Slowly	she	mov'd,	and	loiter'd	in	the	rear;
	Nor	lightly	tripp'd,	nor	by	the	goddess	ran,
	As	once	she	us'd,	the	foremost	of	the	train.
	Her	looks	were	flushed,	and	sullen	was	her	mien,
	That	sure	the	virgin	goddess	(had	she	been
	Aught	but	a	virgin)	must	the	guilt	have	seen.
	Tis	said	the	nymphs	saw	all,	and	gucss'd	aright:
	And	now	the	Moon	had	nine	times	lost	her	light,
	When	Dian	fainting,	in	the	mid-day	beams,
	?ound	a	cool	covert,	and	refreshing	streams,
	That	in	soft	murmurs	through	the	forest	flow'd,
	\nd	a	smooth	bed	of	shining	gravel	shovv'd.
	A	covert	so	obscure,	and	streams	so	clear,
	The	goddess	prais'd	:	"	And	now	no	spies	are	near,
	Let's	strip,	my	gentle	maids,	and	wash,"	she	cries.
	Pleas'd	with	the	motion,	every	maid	complies;
	Only	the	blushing	huntress	stood	confus'd,
	And	form'd	delays,	and	her	delays	excus'd	:
	[n	vain	excus'd;	her	fellows	round	her	press'd,
	And	the	reluctant	nymph	by	force	undressed.
	The	naked	huntress	all	her	shame	reveaPd,
	In	vain	her	hands	the	pregnant	womb	conccal'd	;
	Begone!"	the	goddess	cries	with	stern	disdain,
	"	Begone!"	nor	dare	the	hallow'd	stream	to
	stain;"
	She	fled,	for-ever	banish'd	from	the	train.
	This	Juno	heard,	who	long	had	wulch'd	her
	time
	To	punish	the	detested	rival's	crime;
	The	time	was	come	:	for,	to	enrage	her	more,
	A	lovely	boy	the	teeming	rival	bore.
	The	goddess	cast	a	furious	look,	and	cry'd,
	"	It	is	enough!	1	'in	fully	satisfy	'd	!
	This	boy	shall	stand	a	living	mark,	to	prove
	My	husband's	baseness,	and	the	strumpet's	love:
	But	vengeance	shall	awake	those	guilty	charms,
	That	drew	the	thunderer	from	Juno's	arms,
	No	longer	shall	their	wonted	force	retain,
	Nor	please	the	god,	nor	make	the	mortal	vain/*
	This	said,	her	hand	within	her	hair	she	wound.
	Swung	her	to	earth,	anddraggMheron	thegroundc;
	The	prostrate	wretch	lifts	up	her	arms	in	prayerj
	Her	arms	grow	shaggy,	and	deform'd	with	hair,
	Her	nails	are	sharpen'd	into	pointed	claws,
	Her	hands	bear	half	her	weight,	and	turn	to	paws	j
	Her	lips,	that	once	could	tempt	a	god,	begin
	To	grow	distorted	in	an	ugly	grin.
	And,	lest	the	supplicating	brute	might	reach
	The	ears	of	Jove,	she	was	depriv'd	of	speech	:
	Her	surly	voice	through	a	hoarse	passage	cama
	In	savage	sounds:	her	mind	was	still	the	same.
	The	furry	monster	fix'd	her	eyes	above,
	And	heav'd	her	new	unwieldy	paws	to	Jove,
	And	beger'd	his	aid	with	inwardgroans;	and	though
	She	could	not	call	him	false,	she	thought	him	so.
	How	did	she	fear	to	lodge	in	woods	alone,
	And	haunt	the	fields	and	meadows	once	her	own!
	How	often	would	the	deep-mouth'd	dogs	pursue,
	Whilst	from	her	hounds	the	frighted	huntress	flew	1
	How	did	she	fear	her	fellow	brutes,	and	shun
	The	shaggy	bear,	though	now	herself	was	one!
	How	from	the	sight	of	rugged	wolves	retire,
	Although	the	grim	Lycaon	was	her	sire!
	But	now	her	son	had	fifteen	summers	told,
	Fierce	at	the	chase,	and	in	the	forest	bold;
	When,	as	he	beat	the	woods	in	quest	of	prey,
	He	cha^ic'd	to	rouse	his	mother	where	she	lay.
	She	knew	her	son,	and	kept	him	in	her	sight,
	And	fondly	gaz'd:	the	boy	was	in	a	fright,
	Aud	atin'd	a	pointed	arrow	at	her	breast	;
	And	would	have	slain	his	mother	in	the	beast;
	But	Jove	forbad,	and	snatch'd	them	through	the
	air
	In	whirlwinds	up	to	Heaven,	and	fix	d	them	there:
	Where	the	new	constellations	nightly	rise,
	And	add	a	lustre	to	the	norther*	skies.


552
	ADDTSON'S	POEMS.
	Then	veerM	about,	and,	took	a	wheeling	flight,
	And	hover'	d	o'er	them;	as	the	spreading	kite;
	That	smells	the	slaughter'd	victim	from	on	high,
	Flies	at	a	distance,	if	the	priests	are	nigh,
	And	sails	around,	and	keeps	it	in	her	eye:
	So	kept	the	god	the	virgin	choir	in	view,
	And	in	slow	winding	circles	round	them	flew.
	As	Lucifer	excels	the	meanest	star,
	Or,	as	the	full-orb'd	Phrebe	Lucifer;
	So	much	did	Herse	all	the	rest	outvy,
	And	gave	a	grace	to	the	solemnity.
	Hermes	was	fir'd,	as	in	the	clouds	he	hung:
	So	the	cold	bullet,	that	with	fury	slung
	From	Balearic	engines	mounts	on	high,
	Glows	in	the	whirl,	and	burns	along	the	sky.
	At	length	he	pitch'd	upon	the	ground,	and	show'd
	The	form	divine,	the	features	of	a	god.
	He	knew	their	virtue	o'er	a	female	heart,
	And	yet	he	strives	to	better	them	by	art.
	He	hangs	his	mantle	loose,	and	sets	to	show
	The	goklen	edging	on	the	seam	below;
	Adjusts	his	flowing	curls,	and	in	his	hand
	vVaves	with	an	air	the	sleep-procuring	wand:
	The	glittering	sandals	to	his	feet	applies,
	And	to	each	heel	the	well-trimm'd	pinion	ties.
	His	ornaments	with	nicest	art	display'd,
	He	seeks	th'	apartment	of	the	royal	maid.
	The	roof	was	all	with	polish'd	ivory	lin'd,
	That,	richly	mix'd,	in	clouds	of	tortoise	shin'd.
	Three	rooms	contiguous	in	a	range	were	plac'd;
	The	midmost	by	the	beauteous	Herse	grac'd;
	Her	virgin	sisters	lodg'd	on	either	side.
	Aglauros	first	th'	approaching	god	descry'd,
	And,	as	he	cross'd	her	chamber,	ask'd	his	name,
	And	what	his	business	was,	and	whence	he	came.
	"	I	come,"	icply'd	the	god,	"	from	Heaven	to	woo
	Your	sister,	and	to	make	an	aunt	of	you;
	I	am	the	son	and	messenger	of	Jove,
	My	name	is	Mercury,	my	business	love;
	Do	you,	kind	damsel,	take	a	lover's	part,
	And	gain	admittance	to	your	sister's	heart."
	She	star'd	him	in	the	face	with	looks	amaz'd,
	As	when	she	on	Minerva's	secret	gaz'd,
	And	asks	a	mighty	treasure	for	her	hire,
	And,	till	he	brings	it,	makes	the	god	retire.
	Minerva	griev'd	to	see	the	nymph	succeed;
	And	now	remembrtng	1	the	late	impious	deed,
	When,	disobedient	to	her	strict	command,
	She	touch'd	the	chest	with	an	unhallow'd	hand;
	In	big-swoln	sighs	her	inward	rage	express'd,
	That	heav'd	the	rising	JEg\s	on	her	breast;
	Then	sought	out	Envy	in	her	dark	abode,
	Defil'd	with	ropy	gore	and	clots	of	blood:
	Shut	from	the	winds,	and	from	the	wholesome	skies
	Jn	a	deep	vale	the	gloomy	dungeon	lies,
	Dismal	and	cold,	where	not	a	beam	of	light
	Invades	the	winter,	or	disturbs	the	night.
	Directly	to	the	cave	her	course	she	steer'd	;
	Against	the	gates	her	martial	lance	she	rear'dj
	The	gates	flew	open,	and	the	fiend	appear'd.
	A	poisonous	morsel	in	her	teeth	she	chew'd,
	And	gorg'd	the	flesh	of	vipers	for	her	food.
	Minerva,	loathing,	turn'd	away	her	eyej
	The	hideous	monster,	rising	heavily,
	Came	stalking	forward	with	a	sullen	pace,
	And	left	her	mangled	offals	on	the	place.
	Soon	as	she	saw	the	goddess	gay	and	bright,
	She	fetch'd	a	groan	at	such	a	cheerful	sight.
	Livid	and	meagre	were	her	looks,	her	eye
	la	foul	distorted	glances	tum'd	awry;
	hoard	of	gall	her	inward	parts	possess'd,
	nd	spread	a	greenness	o'er	her	canker'd	breast	j
	[er	teeth	were	brown	with	rust	;	and	from	her
	tongue,
	n	dangling	drops,	the	stringy	poison	hung.
	he	never	smiles	but	when	the	wretched	weep,
	Sor	lulls	her	malice	with	a	moment's	sleep,
	lestless	in	spite:	while,	watchful	to	destroy,
	he	pines	and	sickens	at	another's	joy;
	''oe	to	herself,	distressing	and	distrest,
	he	bears	her	own	tormentor	in	her	breast,
	'he	goddess	gave	(for	she	abhorr'd	her	sight)
	A	short	command:	"	To	Athens	speed	thy	flight;
	)n	curst	Aglauros	try	thy	utmost	art,
	And	fix	thy	rankest	venoms	in	her	heart."
	'his	said,	her	spear	she	push'd	against	the	ground,
	And,	mounting	from	it	with	an	active	bound,
	'lew	-off	to	Eleaven	:	the	hag	with	eyes	askew
	,ook'd	up,	and	mutter'd	curses	as	she	flew;
	''or	sore	she	fretted,	and	began	to	grieve
	At	the	success	which	she	herself	must	give.
	Then	takes	her	staff,	hung	round	with	wreaths	of
	thorn,
	And	sails	along,	in	a	black	whirlwind	borne,
	O'er	fields	and	flowery	meadows:	where	she	steers
	Jer	baneful	course	a	mighty	blast	appears,
	Mildews	and	blights;	the	meadows	are	defac'd,
	"he	fields,	the	flowers,	and	the	whole	year,	laid
	waste:
	)n	mortals	next,	and	peopled	towns	she	falls,
	And	breathes	a	burning	plague	among	their	walls.
	When	Athens	she	beheld,	for	arts	reuown'd,
	With	peace	made	happy,	and	with	plenty	crown'd,
	Scarce	could	the	hideous	fiend	from	tears	forbear,
	To	find	out	nothing	that	deserv'd	a	tear.
	Th'	apartment	now	she	enter'd,	where	at	rest
	Aglauros	lay,	with	gentle	sleep	opprest.
	To	execute	Minerva's	dire	command,
	She	strok'd	the	virgin	with	her	canker'd	hand-,
	Then	prickly	thorns	into	her	breast	convey	'd,
	That	stung	to	madness	the	devoted	maid:
	Her	subtle	venom	still	improves	the	smart,
	Frets	in	the	blood,	and	festers	in	the	heart.
	To	make	the	work	more	sure,	a	scene	she
	drew,
	And	plac'd	before	the	dreaming	virgin's	view
	Her	sister's	marriage,	and	her	glorious	fate;
	Th'	imaginary	bride	appears	in,	state;
	The	bridegroom	with	unwonted	beauty	glows,;
	For	Envy	magnifies	whate'er	she	shows.
	Full	of	the	dream,	Aglauros	pin'd	away
	In	tears	all	night,	in	darkness	all	the	day;
	Consum'd	like	ice,	that	just	begins	to	run,
	When	feebly	smitten	by	the	distant	Sun;
	Or	like	unwholesome	weeds,	that	set	on	fire
	Are	slowly	wasted,	and	in	smoke	expire.
	Given	up	to	envy	(for	in	every	thought
	The	thorns,	the	venom,	and	the	vision	wrought)
	Oft	did	she	call	on	death,	as*	oft	decreed,
	Rather	than	see	her	sister's	wish	succeed,
	To	tell	her	awful	father	what	had	past:
	At	length	before	the	door	herself	she	cast;
	And,	sitting	on	the	ground	with	sullen	pride,
	A	passage	to	the	love-sick	god	deny'd.
	The	god	caress'd,	and	for	admission	pray'd,
	And	sooth	'd	in	softest	words	th'envenom'd	maid.
	In	vain	he	sooth'd;	"	Begone	!"	the	maid	replies^
	"	Or	here	I	keep	my	seat,	and	never	rise."
	"Then	keep	thy	seat	for	ever,"	cries	the	god,
	And	touch'd	the	door,	wide	opening	to	his	rod.


OVID'S	METAMORPHOSES.	BOOK	III.
	Fain	would	she	rise,	and	stop	him,	but	she	found
	Her	trunk	too	heavy	to	forsake	the	ground;
	Her	joints	are	all	benumb'd,	her	hands	are	pale,
	And	marble	now	appears	in	every	nail.
	As	when	a	cancer	in	the	body	feeds,
	And	gradual	death	from	limb	to	limb	proceeds;
	So	does	the	chillness	to	each	vital	part
	Spread	by	degrees,	and	creeps	into	her	heart;
	Till,	hardening	every	where,	and	speechless	grown,
	She	sits	unmov'd,	and	freezes	to	a	stone.
	But	still	her	envious	hue	and	sullen	mieu
	Are	in	the	sedentary	figure	seen.
	EUROPA'S	RAPE.
	WHEN	now	the	god	his.	fury	had	allay'd,
	And	taken	vengeance	of	the	stubborn	maid,
	From	where	the	bright	Athenian	turrets	rise
	He	mounts	aloft,	and	re-ascends	the	skies.
	Jove	saw	him	enter	the	sublime	abodes,
	And,	as	he	ntix'd	among	the	crowd	of	gods,
	Beckon'd	him	out,	and	drew	him	from	the	rest,
	And	in	soft	whispers	thus	his	will	exprest:
	"	My	trusty	Hermes,	by	whose	ready	aid
	Thy	sire's	commands	are	through	the	world	con-
	vey'd,
	Resume	thy	wings,	exert	their	utmost	force,
	And	to	the	walls	of	Sidon	speed	thy	course;
	There	find	a	herd	of	heifers	wandering	o'er
	The	neighbouring	hill,	anddrive	them	to	the	shore.'
	Thus	spoke	the	god,	concealing	his	intent.
	The	trusty	Hermes	on	his	message	went,
	And	found	the	herd	of	heifers	wandering	o'er
	A	neighbouring	hill,	and	drove	them	to	the	shoje
	Where	the	king's	daughter	with	a	lovely	train
	Of	fellow	nymphs,	was	sporting	on	the	plain.
	The	dignity	of	empire	laid	aside
	(For	love	but	ill	agrees	with	kingly	pride);
	The	ruler	of	the	skies,	the	thundering	god,
	Who	shakes	the	world's	foundations	with	a	nod,
	Among	a	herd	of	lowing	heifers	ran,
	Frisk'd	in	a	bull,	and	bellow'd	o'er	the	plain.
	X.arge	rolls	of	fat	about	his	shoulders	clung,
	And	from	his	neck	the	double	dewlap	hung.
	His	skin	was	whiter	than	the	snow	that	lies
	Unsully'd	by	the	breath	of	southern	skies;
	Small	shining	horns	on	his	curl'd	forehead	stand
	As	turn'd	and	polish'd	by	the	workman's	hand;
	His	eye-balls	rolFd,	not	formidably	bright,
	But	gaz'd	and	languish'd	with	a	gentle	light
	His	every	look	was	peaceful,	and	exprest
	The	softness	of	the	lover	in	the	beast.
	Agenor's	royal	daughter,	as	she	play'd
	Among	the	fields,	the	milk-white	bull	survey'd,
	And	view'd	his	spotless	body	with	delight,
	And	at	a	distance	kept	him	in	her	sight.
	At	length	she	pluck'd	the	rising	flowers,	and	fed
	The	gentle	beast,	and	fondly	strok'd	his	head.	^
	He	stood	well-pleas'd	to	touch	the	charming	fair
	But	hardly	could	confine	his	pleasure	there.
	And	now	he	wantons	o'er	the	neighbouring	stran
	Now	rolls	his	body	on	the	yellow	sand^
	And	now,	perceiving	all	her	fears	decay'd,
	Comes	tossing	forward	to	the	royal	maid;
	Gives	her	his	breast	to	stroke,	and	downward	tur
	His	grisly	brow,	and	gently	stoops	his	horns.
	In	flowery	wreaths	the	royal	virgin	drest
	His	bending	horns,	and	kindly	clapt	his	breast.
	Till	now	grown	wanton,	and	devoid	of	fear,
	ttt	knowing	that	she	prest	the	thunderer,
	ie	plac'd	herself	upon	his	back,	and	rode
	er	fields	and	meadows,	seated	on	the	god.
	He	gently	march'd	along,	and	by	degrees
	^ft	the	dry	meadow,	and	approach'd	the	seas;
	r	here	now	he	dips	his	hoofs,	and	wets	his	thighs,
	ow	plunges	in,	and	carries	off	the	prize,
	'he	frighted	nymph	looks	backward	on	the	shore,
	nd	hears	the	tumbling	billows	round	her	roar;
	it	still	she	holds	him	fast:	one	hand	is	borne
	Jpon	his	back;	the	other	grasps	a	horn:
	ier	train	of	ruffling	garments	flics	behind,
	wells	in	the	air,	and	hovers	in	the	wind.
	Through	storms	and	tempests	he	the	virgin	borfej
	nd	lands	her	safe	on	the	Dictean	shore;
	Vhere	now,	in	his	divinest	form	array'd,
	n	his	true	shape	he	captivates	the	maid:
	Vho	gazes	on	him,	and	with	wondering	eyefc
	ieholds	the	new	majestic	figure	rise,
	His	glowing	features,	and	celestial	liijht,
	And	all	the	god	discover'd	to	her	sight.
	OF	ID'S	METAMORPHOSED
	BOOK	III.
	THE	STORY	OF	CADMUS.
	WHEN	now	Agenor	had	his	daughter	lost}
	He	sent	his	son	to	search	on	every	coastj
	And	sternly	bid	him	to	his	arms	restore
	The	darling	maid,	or	see	his	face	no	more;
	F>ut	live	an	exile	in	a	foreign	clime.
	Thus	was	the	father	pious	to	a	crime.
	The	restless	youth	search'd	all	the	world	around^
	But	how	can	Jove	in	his	amours	be	found	?
	When,	tir'd	at	length	with	unsuccessful	toil,
	To	shun	his	angry	sire	and	native	soil,
	He	goes	a	suppliant	to	the	Delphic	dome;
	There	asks	the	god	what	new-appointed	home
	Should	end	his	wanderings,	and	his	toils	relieve*
	The	Delphic	oracle	this	answer	gave:
	"	Behold	among	the	fields	a	lonely	cow,
	Unworn	with	yokes,	unbroken	to	the	plough	;
	Mark	well	the	place	where	first	she	lays
	There	measure	out	thy	walls,	and	build	thy	town,
	And	from	thy	guide	Bceotia	call	the	land,
	In	which	the	destin'd	walls	and	town	shall	stand.'*
	No	sooner	had	he	left	the	dark	abode,
	Big	with	the	promise	of	the	Delphic	god,
	When	in	the	fields	the	fatal	cow	he	view'd,
	Nor	gall'd	with	yokes,	nor	worn	with	servitude;
	Her	gently	at	a	distance	he	pursued;
	And,	as	he	vvalk'd	aloof,	in	silence	pray'd
	To	the	great	power	whose	counsels	he	obey'd.
	Her	way	through	flowery	Panop6	she	took,
	And	now,	Cephisus,	cross'd	thy	silver	brook;
	When	to	the	Heavens	her	spacious	front	she	rais'd;
	And	bellow'd	thrice,	then	backward	turning	gaz'd
	On	those	behind,	till	on	the	destin'd	place
	She	stoop'd,	and	couch'd	amid	the	rising	grass.
	Cadmus	salutes	the	soil,	and	gladly	hails
	The	new-found	mountains,	and	the	nameless	vales',
	And	thanks	the	gods,	and	turns	about	his	eye
	To	see	his	new	dominions	round	him	lie;
	Then	sends	his	servants	to	a	neighbouring	frore
	For	living	streams,	a	sacrifice	to	Jore.
	O'er	the	wide	plain	there	rose	a	shady	wood
	Of	af	ed	trees;	ia	its	dark	bvt>om	stood


554
	ADDISON'S	POEMS.
	A	bushy	thicket,	pathless	and	unworn,
	O'er-run	with	brambles,	and	perplex	'd	with	thor
	Amidst	the	brake	a	hollow	den	was	found,
	With	rocks	and	shelving	arches	vaulted	round.
	Deep	in	the	dreary	den,	conceaPd	from	day,
	Sacred	to	Mars,	a	mighty	dragon	lay,
	Bloated	with	poison	to	a	monstrous	size;
	Fire	broke	in	flashes	when	he	glanc'd	his	eyes:
	His	towering	crest	was	glorious	to	behold,
	His	shoulders	and	his	sides	were	scal'd	with	gol(
	Three	tongues	he	brandish'd	when	he	charg'd	h
	foes:
	His	teeth	stood	jaggy	in	three	dreadful	rows.
	The	Tyrians	in	the	den	for	water	sought,
	And	with	their	urns	explored	the	hollow	vault;
	From	side	to	side	their	empty	urns	rebound,
	And	muse	the	sleepy	serpent	with	the	sound.
	Straight	he	bestirs	him,	and	is	seen	to	rise;
	And	now	with	dreadful	hissings	fills	the	skies,
	And	darts	his	forky	tongue,	and	rolls	his	glarin
	eyes.
	The	Tyrians	drop	their	vessels	in	the	fright,
	All	pale	and	trembling	at	the	hideous	sight.
	Spire	above	spire	uprear'd	in	air	he	stood,
	And,	gazing	round	him,	overlook'd	the	wood	:
	Then	floating	on	the	ground,	in	circles	roll'd;
	Then	leap'd	upon	them	in	a	mighty	fold.
	Of	such	a	bulk,	and	such	a	monstrous	size,
	The	Serpent	in	the	polar	circle	lies,
	That	stretches	over	half	the	northern	skies.
	In	vain	the	Tyrians	on	their	arms	rely,
	In	vain	attempt	to	fight,	in	vain	to	fly:
	All	their	endeavours	and	their	hopes	are	vain;
	Some	die	entangled	in	the	winding	train	;
	Some	are	deyour'd	;	or	feel	a	loathsome	death,
	Swoln	up	with	blasts	of	pestilential	breath.
	And	now	the	scorching	Sun	was	mounted	high,
	In	all	its	lustre,	to	the	noon-day	sky;
	When,	anxious	for	his	friends,	and	fill'd	with	cares
	To	search	the	woods	th'	impatient	chief	prepares
	A	lion's	hide	around	his	loins	he	wore,
	The	well-pois'd	javelin	to	the	field	he	bore
	Inur'd	to	blood	;	the	far-destroying	dart,
	And,	the	best	weapon,	an	undaunted	heart.
	Soon	as	the	youth	approach'd	the	fatal	place,
	He	saw	his	servants	breathless	on	the	grass;
	The	scaly	foe	amid	their	corpse	he	view'd,
	Basking	at	ease,	and	feasting	in	their	blood.
	"	Such	friends,"	he	cries,	"	deserv'd	a	longer	date	:
	But	Cadmus	will	revenge,	er	share	their	fate."
	Then	heav'd	a	stone,	and,	rising	to	the	throw,
	He	sent	it	in	a	whirlwind	at	the	foe:
	A	tower,	assaulted	by	so	rude	a	stroke,
	With	all	its	lofty	battlements	had	shook;
	But	nothing	here	th'	unwieldy	rock	avails,
	Rebounding	harmless	from	the	plaited	scales,
	That,	firmly	join'd,	preserved	him	from	a	wound,
	With	native	armour	crusted	all	around.
	With	more	success	the	dart	unerring	flew,
	Which	at	his	back	the	raging	warrior	threw;
	Amid	the	plaited	scales	it	took	its	course,
	And	in	the	spinal	marrow	spent	its	force.
	The	monster	hiss'd	aloud,	and	rog'd	in	vain,
	And	writh'd	his	body	to	and	fro	with	pain;
	And	bit	the	spear,	and	wrench'd	the	wood	away:
	The	point	still	buried	in	the	marrow	lay*	,
	And	now	his	rage,	increasing	with	his	pain,
	Reddens	his	eyes,	and	beats	in	every	vein;
	Churn'd	in	his	teeth	the	foamy	venom	rose,
	Whilst	from	his	mouth	a	blast	of	vapours	flows,
	Such	as	th'	infernal	Stygian	waters	cast:
	The	plants	around	him	wither	in	the	blast.
	Now	in	a	maze	of	rings	he	lies	enroll'd,
	Now	all	unravell'd,	and	without	a	fold;
	Now,	like	a	torrent,	with	a	mighty	force
	Bears	down	the	forest	in	his	boisterous	course.
	Cadmus	gave	back,	and	on	the	lion's	spoil
	Sustain'd	the	shock,	then	forc'd	him	to	recoil;
	The	pointed	javelin	warded	off	his	rage:
	Mad	with	his	pains,	and	furious	to	engage,
	The	serpent	champs	the	steel,	and	bites	the	spear,
	Till	blood	and	venom	all	the	point	besmear.
	But	still	the	hurt	he	yet	received	was	slight;
	For,	whilst	the	champion	with	redoubled	might
	Strikes	home	the	javelin,	his	retiring	foe
	Shrinks	from	the	wound,	and	disappoints	the	blow.
	The	dauntless	hero	still	pursues	his	stroke,
	And	presses	forward,	till	a	knotty	oak
	Retards	his	foe,	and	stops	him	in	the	rear;
	Full	in	his	throat	he	plung'd	the	fatal	spear,
	That	in	th'	extended	neck	a	passage	found,
	And	pierc'd	the	solid	timber	through	the	wound.
	Fix'd	to	the	reeling	trunk,	with	many	a	stroke
	Of	his	huge	tail,	he	lash'd	the	sturdy	oak;
	Till,	spent	with	toil,	and	labouring	hard	for	breath,
	rle	now	lay	twisting	in	the	pangs^of	death.
	Cadmus	beheld	him	wallow	in	a	flood
	3f	swimming	poison,	intermixed	with	blood;
	When	suddenly	a	speech	was	heard	from	high,
	The	speech	was	heard,	nor	was	the	speaker	nigh)
	'	Why	dost	thou	thus	with	secret	pleasure	see,
	nsulting	man	!	what	thou	thyself	shall	be?"
	Astonish'd	at	the	voice,	he	stood	ainaz'd,
	\.nd	all	around	with	inward	horrourgazVl:
	Wh'en	Pallas	swift	descending	from	the	skies,
	'alias,	the	guardian	of	the	bold	and	wise,
	ids	him	plough	up	the	field,	and	scatter	round
	'he	dragon's	teeth	o'er	all	the	furrow'd	ground	;
	"hen	tells	the	youth	how	to	his	wondering	eyes
	Embattled	armies	from	the	field	should	rise.
	He	sows	the	teeth	at	Pallas's	command,
	Arid	flings	the	future	people	from	his	hand,
	'he	clods	grow	warm,	and	crumble	where	he	sows;
	nd	now	the	pointed	spears	advance	in	rows	;
	ow	nodding	plumes	appear,	and	shining	crests,
	ow	the	broad	shoulders	and	the	rising	breasts:
	er	all	the	field	the	breathing	harvest	swarms,
	growing	host,	a	crop	of	men	and	arms.
	So	through	the	parting	stage	a	figure	rears
	>	body	up,	and	limb	by	limb	appears
	y	just	degrees;	till	all	the	man	arise,
	nd	in	his	full	proportion	strikes	the	eyes.
	Cadmus,	surprised,	and	startled	at	the	sight
	f	his	new	foes,	prepar'd	himself	for	fight:
	r	hen	one	cry'd	out,	"Forbear,	fond	man,	forbeai"
	"o	mingle	in	a	blind	promiscuous	war."
	lis	said,	he	struck	his	brother	to	the	ground,
	imself	expiring	by	another's	wound;
	or	did	the	third	his	conquest	long	survive,
	)ying	ere	scarce	he	had	begun	to	live.
	The	dire	example	ran	through	all	the	field,
	'ill	heaps	of	brothers	were	by	brothers	kill'd;
	ic	furrows	swam	in	blood:	and	only	five
	3f	all	the	vast	increase	were	left	alive.
	Schi-on	one,	at	Pallas's	command,
	et	fall	the	guiltless	weapon	from	his	hand;
	nd	with	the	rest	a	peaceful	treaty	makes,
	horn	Cadmus	as	his	friends	and	partners	takeSj
	o	founds	a	city	on	the	promis'd	earth,
	nd	gives	his	new	Bcrotian	empire	birth.


OVID'S	METAMORPHOSES.
	Here	Cadmus	reign'd;	and	now	one	would	have
	guess'd	m
	The	royal	founder	in	his	exile	blest:
	Long	did	he	live	within	his	new	abodes,
	Ally'd	by	marriage	to	the	deathless	gods;
	And,	in	a	fruitful	wife's	embraces	old,
	A	long	increase	of	children's	children	told:
	But	no	frail	man,	however	great	or	high,
	Caa	be	concluded	blest	before	he	die.
	Actseon	was	the	first	of	all	his	race,
	Who	griev'd	his	grandsire	in	his	borrowed	face;
	Condemn'd	by	stern	Diana	to	bemoan
	The	branching	horns,	and	visage	not	his	own;
	To	shun	his	once-lov'd	dogs,	to	bound	away,
	And	from	their	huntsman	to	become	their	prey.
	And	yet	consider	why	the	change	was	wrought,
	You'll	find	it	his	misfortune,	not	his	fault;
	Or	if	a	fault,	it	was	the	fault	of	chance	:
	For	how	can	guilt	proceed	from	ignorance	?
	BOOK	III.
	53$
	THE	TRANSFORMATION	OF	ACTION	INTO	A
	STAG.
	IN	a	fair	chase	a	shady	mountain	stood,
	Well	stor'd	with	game,	and	mark'd	with	trails	of
	blood.
	Here	did	the	huntsmen	till	the	heat	of	day
	Pursue	the	stag,	and	load	themselves	with	prey;
	When	thus	Actaeon	calling	to	the	rest:
	"	My	friends,''	says	he,	"	our	sport	is	at	the	best.
	The	Sun	is	high	advanc'd,	and	downward	sheds
	His	burning	beams	directly	on	our	heads;
	Then	by	consent	abstain	from	further	spoils,
	Call	off	the	dogs,	and	gather	up	the	toils;
	And	ere.	to	morrow's	Sun	begins	his	race,
	Take	the	cool	morning	to	renew	the	chase."
	They	all	consent,	and	in	a	cheerful	train
	The	jolly	huntsmen,	loaden	with	the	slain,
	Return	in	triumph	from	the	sultry	plain.
	Down	in	a	vale	with	pine	and	cypress	clad,
	Refresh'd	with	gentle	winds,	and	brown	with	shade,
	The	chaste	Diana's	private	haunt,	there	stood
	Full	in	the	centre	of	the	darksome	wood
	A	spacious	grotto,	ail	around	o'er-grown
	With	hoary	moss,	and	arch'd	with	pumice-stone:
	From	out	its	rocky	clefts	the	waters	flow,
	And	trickling	swell	into	a	lake	below.
	Nature	had	every	where	so	play'd	her	part,
	That	every	where	she	seem'd	to	vie	with	art.
	Here	the	bright	goddess,	toil'd	and	chafd	with	heat,
	Was	wont	to	bathe	her	in	the	cool	retreat
	Here	did	she	now	with	all	her	train	resort,
	Panting	with	heat,	and	breathless	from	the	sport;
	Her	armour-bearer	laid	her	bow	aside,
	Some	loos'd	her	sandals,	some	her	veil	unty'd;
	Each	busy	nymph	her	proper	part	undrest;
	While	Crocale,	more	handy	than	the	rest,
	Gather'd	her	flowing	hair,	and	in	a	noose
	Bound	it	together,	whilst	her	own	hung	loose.
	Five	of	the	more	ignoble	sort	by	turns
	Fetch	up	the	water,	and	unlade	their	urns.
	Now	all	nndrest	the	shining	goddess	stood,
	When	young	Actseon,	wilder'd	in	the	wood,
	To	the	cool	grot	by	his	hard	fate	betray'd,
	The	fountains	fill'd	with	naked	nymphs	surveyed.
	The	frighted	virgins	shriek'd	at	the	surprise
	(The	forest	echo'd	with	their	piercing	cries.)
	Then	in	a	huddle	round	their	goddess	prcst:
	She,	proudly	eminent	above	the	rest,
	With	blushes	glow'd	;	such	blushes	as	ador
	The	ruddy	welkin,	or	the	purple	morn:
	And	though	the	crowding	nymphs	her	body	hide,.
	Half	backward	shrunk,	and	view'd	him	from	aside.
	Surpris'd,	at	first	she	would	have	snatch'd	hef
	bow,
	But	sees	the	circling	waters	round	her	flow;
	These	in	the	hollow	of	her	hand	she	took,
	And	dash'd	them	in	his	face,	while	thus	she	spokea
	"	Tell,	if	thou	canst,	the	wondrous	sight	disclus'dj
	A	goddess	naked	to	thy	view	expos'd."
	This	said,	the	man	begun	to	disappear
	By	slow	degrees,	and	ended	in	a	deer.
	A	rising	horn	on	either	brow	he	wears,
	And	stretches	out	his	neck,	and	pricks	his	ears*
	Rough	is	his	skin,	with	sudden	hairs	o'er-i^w
	His	bosom	pants	with	fears	before	unknown,
	Transformed	at	length,	he	flics	away	in	hastv
	And	wonders	why	he	flies	away	so	fast.
	But	as	by	chance,	within	a	neighbouring	brook^
	He	saw	his	branching	homs	and	alter'd	look.
	Wretched	Actaeon!	in	a	doleful	tone
	He	try'd	to	speak,	but	only	gave	a	groan	;
	And	as	he	wept,	within	the	watery	glass
	He	saw	the	big	round	drops,	with	silent	pace,
	Run	trickling	down	a	savage	hairy	face.
	What	should	he	do	?	Or	seek	his	old	abodes.
	Or	herd	among	the	deer,	and	skulk	in	woods?
	Here.	shame	dissuades	him,	there	his	fear	prevails,
	And	each	by	turns	his	aking	heart	assails.
	As	he	thus	ponders,	he	behind	him	spies
	His	opening	hounds,	and	now	he	hears	their	cries^
	A	generous	pack,	or	to	maintain	the	chase,
	Or	snuff	the	vapour	from	the	scented	grass.
	He	bounded	off	with	fear,	and	swiftly	ran
	O'er	craggy	mountains,	and	the	flowery	plain;
	Through	brakes	and	thickets	forc'd	his	way,	anfl
	flew
	Through	many	a	ring,	where	once	he	did	pursues
	In	vain	he	oft	endeavour'd	to	proclaim
	His	new	misfortune,	and	to	tell	his	name;
	Nor	voice	nor	words	the	brutal	tongue	supplies;
	From	shouting	men,	and	horns,	and	dogs,	he	fliesj
	Deafen'd	and	stunn'd	with	their	promiscuous	cries.
	When	now	the	fleetest	of	the	pack,	that	prest
	Close	at	his	heels,	and	sprung	before	the	rest,
	Had	fasten'd	on	him,	straight	another	pair
	Hung	on	his	wounded	haunch,	and	held	him	thert.
	Till	all	the	pack	came	up,	and	every	hound
	Tore	the	sad	huntsman	groveling	on	the	ground,
	Who	now	appcar'd	but	one	continued	wound.
	With	dropping	tears	his	bitter	fate	he	moans,
	And	fills	the	mountains	with	his	dying	groans.
	His	servants	with	a	piteous	look	he	spies,
	And	turns	about	his	supplicating	eyes.
	His	servants,	ignorant	of	what	had	chanc'd,
	With.eager	haste	and	joyful	shouts	advanc'd,
	And	cali'd	their	lord	Actason	to	the	game	;
	He\book	his	head	in	answer	to	the	name;
	He	^<tird,	but	wish'd	he	had	indeed	been	gone.
	Or	QiVly	to	have	stood	a	looker-on.
	But,	(	to	his	grief,	he	finds	himself	too	near,
	And	feels	his	ravenous	dogs	with	fury	tear
	Their	wretched	master	panting	in	a	deer.
	THE	BIRTH	OF	BACCHUS.
	ACTION'S	sufferings,	and	Diana's	rage,
	Did	ail	the	thought*	of	men	and	god*	"gag;


OVID'S	METAMORPHOSES.	BOOK	III.
	The	fair	Liriope	his	answers	try'd,
	And	first	th'	unerring	prophet	justify'd;
	This	nymph	the	god	Cephisus	had	abus'd,
	With	all	his	winding	waters	circumfus'd,
	And	on	the	Nereid	got	a	lovely	boy,
	Whom	the	soft	maids	ev'n	then	beheld	with	joy.
	The	tender	dame,	solicitous	to	know
	Whether	her	child	should	reach	old	age	or	no,
	Consults	the	sage	Tiresias,	who	replies,
	"	If	e'er	he	knows	himself,	he	surely	dies.''
	Long	liv'd	the	dubious	mother	in	suspense,
	Till	time	unriddled	all	the	prophet's	sense.
	Narcissus	now	his	sixteenth	year	began,
	Just	turn'd	of	boy,	and	on	the	verge	of	man	;
	Many	a	friend	the	blooming	youth	caress'd,
	Many	a	love-sick	maid	her	flame	confess'd.
	Such	was	his	pride,	iu	vain	the	friend	caress'd,
	The	love-sick	maid	in	vain	her	flame	confess'd.
	Once,	in	the	woods,	as	he	pursued	the	chase,
	The	babbling	Echo	had	descried	his	face;
	She,	who	in	others'	words	her	silence	breaks,
	Nor	speaks	herself	but	when	another	speaks.
	Echo	was	then	a	maid,	of	speech	bereft,
	Of	wonted	speech	;	for	though	her	voice	was	left,
	Juno	a	curse	did	on	her	tongue	impose,
	To	sport	with	every	sentence	in	the	close.
	Full	often,	when	the	goddess	might	have	caught
	Jove	and	her	rivals	in	the	very	fault,
	This	nymph	with	subtle	stories	would	delay
	Her	coming,	till	the	lovers	slipp'd	away.
	The	goddess	found	out	the	deceit	in	time,
	And	then	she	cry'd,	"'That	tongue,	for	this	thy
	crime,
	Which	could	so	many	subtle	tales	produce,
	Shall	be	hereafter	but	of	little	use."
	Hence	'tis	she	prattles	in	a	fainter	tone,
	With	mimic	sounds,	and	accents	not	her	own.
	This	love-sick	virgin,	over-joy	'd	to	find
	The	boy	alone,	still	fo'.low'd	him	behind;
	When	glowing	warmly	at	her	near	approach,
	As	sulphur	blazes	at	the	taper's	touch,
	She	long'd	her	hidden	passion	to	reveal,
	And	tell	her	pains,	but	had	not	words	to	tell	:
	She	can't	begin,	but	waits	for	the	rebound,
	To	catch	his	voice,	and	to	return	the	sound.
	The	nymph,	when	nothing	could	Narcissus
	move,
	Still	dash'd	with	blushes	for	her	slighted	love,
	Liv'd	in	the	shady	covert	of	the	woods,
	In	solitary	caves	and	dark	abodes;
	Where	pining	wander'd	the	rejected	fair,
	Till,	harassed	out,	and	worn	away	.with	care,
	The	sounding	skeleton,	of	blood	bereft,
	Besides	her	bones	and	voice	had	nothing	left.
	Her	bones	are	petrify'd,	her	voice	is	found
	In	vaults,	where	still	it	doubles	every	sound.
	THE	STORY	OF	NARCISSUS.
	THUS	did	the	nymph	in	vain	caress	the	boy,
	He	still	was	lovely,	but	he	still	was	coy	:
	When	one	fair	virgin	of	the	slighted	train
	Thus	pray'd	the	gods,	provok'd	by	his	disdain,
	"	Oh	may	he	love	like	me,	and	love	like	me	in
	vain!"
	Rhamnusia	pity'd	the	neglected	fair,
	And	with	just	vengeance	answer'd	to	her	prayer.
	There	stands	a	fountain	in	a	darksome	wood,
	Jtfoi-	staiu'd	with	falling	leaves	nor	rising	mud;
	55f
	Untroubled	by	the	breath	of	winds	it	rests,
	Unsully'd	by	the	touch	of	men	or	beasts;
	High	bowers	of	shady	trees	above	it	grow,
	And	rising	grass	and	cheerful	greens	below.
	Pleas'd	with	the	form	and	coolness	of	the	place,
	And	over-heated	by	the	morning	chase,
	Narcissus	on	the	grassy	verdure	lies:
	But	whilst	within	the	crystal	fount	he	tries
	To	quench	his	heat,	he	feels	new	heats	arise.
	For,	as	his	own	bright	image	he	survey'd,
	He	fell	in	love	with	the	fantastic	shade	;
	And	o'er	the	fair	resemblance	hung	unmov'd,
	Nor	kenvv,	fond	youth	!	it	was	himself	he	lov'd.
	The	well-turn'd	neck	and	shoulders	he	descries.
	The	spacious	forehead	and	the	sparkling	eyes;
	The	hands	that	Bacchus	might	not	scorn	to	show,
	And	hair	that	round	Apollo's	head	might	flow,
	With	all	the	purple	youthfulness	of	face,
	That	gently	blushes	in	the	watery	glass.
	By	his	own	flames	consuui'd,	the	lover	lies,
	And	gives	himself	the	wound	by	which	he	dies.
	To	the	cold	water	oft	he	joins	his	lips,
	Oft	catching	at	the	beauteous	shade	he	dips
	His	arms,	as	often	from	himself	he	slips.
	Nor	knows	he	who	it	is	his	arms	pursue
	With	eager	clasps,	but	loves	he	knows	not	wlio.
	What	could,	fond	youth,	this	helpless	paa&ioa
	move	?
	What	kindle	in	thce	thisunpity'd	love?
	Thy	own	warm	blush	within	the	water	glows.
	With	thte	the	colour'd	shadow	comes	and	goes,
	Its	empty	being	on	thyself	relies;
	Step	thou	aside,	and	the	frail	charmer	dies.
	Still	o'er	the	fountain's	watery	gleam	he	stood.
	Mindless	of	sleep,	and	negligent	of	food;
	Still	view'd	his	face,	and	ianguish'd	as	he	vicwM.
	At	length	he	rais'd	his	head,	and	thus	be;an
	To	vent	his	griefs,	and	tell	the	woods	his	pain:
	"	You	trees,''	says	he,	"	and	thou	surrounding
	grove,
	Who	oft	have	been	the	kindly	scenes	of	love,
	Tell	me,	if	e'er	within	your	shades	did	lie
	A	youth	so	tortur'd,	so	perplex'd	as	I	!
	1	who	before	me	see	the	charming	fair,
	Whilst	there	he	stands,	and	yet	he	stands	not
	there:
	In	such	a	maze	of	love	my	thoughts	are	lost;
	And	yet	no	bulwark'd	town,	nor	distant	coast,
	Preserves	the	beauteous	youth	from	being	seen,
	No	mountains	rise,	nor	oceans	flow	between.
	A	shallow	water	hinders	my	embrace;
	And	yet	the	lovely	mimic	wears	a	face
	That	kindly	smiles,	and	when	I	bend	to	jo'm
	My	lips	to	his,	he	fondly	bends	to	mine.
	Hear,	gentle	youth,	and	pity	my	complaint;
	Come	from	thy	well,	thou	fair	inhabitant
	My	charms	an	easy	conquest	have	obtain'd
	O'er	other	hearts,	by	thee	alonedisdain'd.
	But	why	should	1	despair?	I'm	sure	he	bums
	With	equal	flames	and	languishes	by	turns.
	Whene'er	I	stoop,	he	offers	at	a	kiss	:
	And	when	my	arms	1	stretch,	he	stretches	his.
	His	eye	with	pleasure	on	my	face	he	keeps,
	He	smiles	my	smiles,	and	when	1	weep	he	weeps.
	Whene'er	I	speak,	his	moving	lips	appear
	To	utter	something	which	I	cannot	hear.
	"	Ah,	wretched	me!	1	now	begin	too	late
	To	find	out	all	the	long	perplex'd	deceit;
	It	is	myself	I	love,	myself	1	see;
	The	gay	delusion	is	a	part	of	me.


J60
	ADDISON'S	POEMS.
	Th'	officious	servants	hurry	him	away,
	And	the	poor	captive	in	a	dungeon	lay.
	But,	whilst	the	whips	and	tortures	are	prepar'd,
	The	gates	fly	open,	of	themselves	unbarr'd;
	At	liberty	th'	unfetter'd	captive	stands,
	And	flings	the	loosen'd	shackles	from	his	hands.
	THE	DEATH	OF	PENTHEUS.
	BUT	Pentheus,	grown	more	furious	than	before,
	Resolv'd	to	send	his	messengers	no	more,
	But	went	himself	to	the	distracted	throng,
	Where	high	Cithaeron	echo'd	with	their	song.
	And	as	the	fiery	war-horse	paws	the	ground,
	And	snorts	and	trembles	at	the	trumpet's	sound	;
	Transported	thus	he	heard	the	frantic	rout,
	And	rav'd	and	madden'd	at	the	distant	shout.
	A	spacious	circuit	on	the	hill	there	stood,
	Level	and	wide,	and	skirted	round	with	wood	;
	Here	the	rash	Pentheus,	with	unhallow'd	eyes,
	The	howling	dames	and	mystic	orgies	spies.
	His	mother	sternly	view'd	him	where	he	stood,
	And	kindled	into	madness	as	she	view'd	:
	Her	leafy	javelin	at	her	son	she	cast;
	And	cries,	"The	boar	that	lays	our	country	waste!
	The	boar,	my	sisters!	aim	the	fatal	dart,
	And	strike	the	brindled	monster	to	the	heart.'*
	Pentheus	astonish'd	heard	the	dismal	sound,
	And	sees	the	yelling	matrons	gathering	round	;
	He	sees,	and	weeps	at	his	approaching	fate,
	And	begs	for	mercy,	and	repents	too	late.
	"	Help,	help!	my	aunt	Autonb'e,"	he	cry'd;
	"	Remember	how	your	own	Action	dy'd.''
	Deaf	to	his	cries,	the	frantic	matron	crops
	One	stretch'd-out	arm,	the	other	Ino	lops.
	In	vain	does	Pentheus	to	his	mother	sue,
	And	the	raw	bleeding	stumps	presents	to	view:
	His	mother	howl'd;	and,	heedless	of	his	prayer,
	Her	trembling	hand	she	twisted	in	his	hair,
	"	And	this,"	she	cried,	"	shall	be	Agava'	b	share."
	"When	from	the	neck	his	struggling	head	she	tore,
	And	in	her	hands	the	ghastly	visage	bore,
	With	pleasure	all	the	hideous	trunk	survey;
	Then	pull'd	and	tore	the	mangled	limbs	away,
	As.	starting	in	the	pangs	of	death	it	lay.
	Soon	as	the	wood	its	leafy	honours	casts,
	Blown	off	and	scatter'd	by	autumnal	blasts,
	"With	such	a	sudden	death	lay	Pentheus	slain,
	And	in	a	thousand	pieces	strew'd	the	plain.
	By	so	distinguishing	a	judgment	aw'd,
	The	Thebans	tremble,	and	confess	the	god.
	THE	STORY	OF	SALMACTS	AND	HERMA-
	PHRODITUS.
	FROM	THE	FOURTH	BOOK	OF	OVID'S	META
	MORPHOSES.
	HOW	Salmacis,	with	weak	enfeebling	streams,
	Softens	the	body,	and	unnerves	the	limbs,
	And	what	the	secret	cause,	shall	here	be	shown;
	The	cause	is	secret,	but	th'	effect	is	known.
	The	Naiads	nurst	an	infant	heretofore,
	That	Cytherea	once	to	Hermes	bore	:
	From	both	th'	illustrious	authors	of	his	race
	The	child	was	nam'd	;	nor	was	it	hard	to	trace
	Both	the	bright	parents	through	the	infant's	face.
	When	fifteen	years,	in	Ida's	cool	retreat,
	The	boy	had	told,	he	left	his	native	seat,
	And	sought	fresh	fountains	in	a	foreign	soil:
	The	pleasure	lessen'd	the	attending	toil.
	With	eager	steps	the	Lycian	fields	he	crost,
	And	fields	that	border	on	the	Lycian	coast;
	A	river	here	he	view'd	so	lovely	bright,
	It	show'd	the	bottom	in	a	fairer	light,
	Nor	kept	a	sand	conceal'd	from	human	sight:
	The	stream	produc'd	nor	slimy	ooze,	nor	weeds,
	Nor	miry	rushes,	nor	the	spiky	reeds;
	But	dealt	enriching	moisture	all	around,
	The	fruitful	banks	with	cheerful	verdure	crown'd,
	And	kept	the	spring	eternal	on	the	ground.
	A	nymph	presides,	nor	practis'd	in	the	chase,
	Nor	skilful	at	the	bow,	nor	at	the	race	;
	Of	all	the	blue-eyed	daughters	of	the	main,
	The	only	stranger	to	Diana's	train	:
	Her	sisters	often,	as	'tis	said,	would	cry,
	"	Fy,	Salmacis,	what	always	idle	!	fy;
	Or	take	thy	quiver,	or	thy	arrows	seize,
	And	mix	the	toils	of	hunting	with	thy	ease.'*
	Nor	quiver	she	nor	arrows	e'er	would	seize,
	Nor	mix	the	toils	of	hunting	with	her	ease.
	But	oft	would	bathe	her	in	the	crystal	tide,
	Oft	with	a	comb	her	dewy	locks	divide;
	Now	in	the	limpid	streams	she	view'd	her	face,
	And	dress'd	her	image	in	the	floating	glass:
	On	beds	of	leaves	she	now	repos'd	her	limbs,
	Now	gather'd	flowers	that	grew	about	her	streams;
	And	then	by	chance	was	gathering,	as	she	stood
	To	view	the	boy,	and	long	for	what	she	view'd.
	Fain	would	she	mett	the	youth	with	hasty	feet,.
	She	fain	would	meet	him,	but	refus'd	to	meet
	Before	her	looks	were	set	with	nicest	care,
	And	well	deserv'd	to	be	reputed	fair.	[prove
	"	Bright	youth,"	she	cries,	"	whom	all	thy	features
	"	A	god,	and	if	a	god,	the	god	of	love;
	But	if	a	mortal,	blest	thy	nurse's	breast	:
	Blest	are	thy	parents,	and	thy	sisters	blest;
	But,	oh,	how	blest!	how	more	than	blest	thy	bride,
	Ally'd	in	bliss,	if	any	yet	ally	'd.
	If	so,	let	mine	the	stol'n	enjoyments	be;
	If	not,	behold	a	willing	bride	in	me."	[shame,
	The	boy	knew	nought	of	love,	and	touch'd	with
	He	strove,	and	blusht^	but	still	the	blush	became;
	In	rising	blushes	still	fresh	beauties	rose;
	The	sunny	side	of	fruit	such	blushes	shows,
	And	such	the	Moon,	when	all	her	silver	white
	Turns	in	eclipses	to	a	ruddy	light.
	The	nymph	still	begs,	if	not	a	nobler	bliss,
	A	cold	salute	at	least,	a	sister's	kiss:
	And	now	prepares	to	take	the	lovely	boy
	Between	her	arms.	He,	innocently	coy,
	Replies,	"	Or	leave	me	to	myself	alone,
	You	rude	uncivil	nymph,	or	I	'11	be	gone."
	"	Fair	stranger,	then,"	says	she,	"	it	shall	be	so;'	'
	And,	for	she	fear'd	his	threat,	she	feign'd	to	go;
	But,	hid	within	a	covert's	neighbouring	green,
	She	kept	him	still	in	sight,	herself	unseen.
	The	boy	now	fancies	all	the	danger	o'er,
	And	innocently	sports	about	the	shore	j
	Playful	and	wanton	to	the	stream	he	trips,
	And	dips	his	foot,	and	shivers	as	he	dips.
	The	coolness	pleas'd	him,	and	with	eager	haste
	His	airy	garments	on	the	banks	he	cast;
	His	godlike	features,	and	his	heavenly	hue,
	And	all	his	beauties	were	expos'd	to	view.
	His	naked	limbs	the	nymph	with	rapture	spies*
	While	hotter	passions	in	her	bosom	rise,


112	HISTORY	OF	THE	TWELFTH	REGIMENT
	morning	with	batteries.	Will	it	not	be	better	to	hold	the	whole
	force	for	a	day	or	two	before	sending	to	Mount	Vernon?	If
	necessary,	will	send	them	to-morrow	or	whenever	you	may	direct.
	Report	says	that	two	regiments	are	left	at	Monticello.
	Please	answer.	,
	S.	P.	CARTER,
	Brig.-Gen.
	OFFICIAL	RECORDS.
	[Series	1,	Vol.	XXIII,	Page	440,	Part	2.]
	MURFREESBOROUGH,	June	20,	1863.
	GENERAL	HARTSUFF:
	Morgan	is	reported	nine	miles	from	Lebanon	(Tennessee),
	probably	on	his	way	into	Kentucky,	His	forces	reported	4.000
	and	one	battery.
	W.	S.	ROSENCRANS,
	Major-General.
	At	this	time	we	were	the	advance	regiment.	We	immediately
	came	to	a	halt,	and,	as	the	brigade	passed	by,	gave	each	regiment
	three	parting	cheers,	and	commenced	retracing	our	steps.	After
	marching	one-half	mile	or	so,	we	turned	aside	to	a	grove	or	park
	alongside	the	thoroughfare	where	we	passed	the	night.	At	five
	the	next	morning	w	T	e	were	ordered	into	line,	and,	on	the	tenth
	day	of	June	encamped	in	Somerset,	having	marched	in	six	con
	secutive	days	over	one	hundred	miles,	under	a	broiling	sun,	heav
	ily	laden	with	rations	and	ammunition	beyond	the	regular	equip
	ment	of	the	soldier;	finding	ourselves	at	last	twenty-eight	miles
	from	Crab	Orchard,	the	place	from	whence	we	started	June	4th.
	Our	encampment	was	located	in	a	grove	one-quarter	of	a	mile
	west	of	the	village,	on	ground	occupied	by	Zollicoffer	in	1861.
	Here	he	prepared	to	make	a	stand	against	the	forces	sent	to	repel
	him.	Trenches	were	in	evidence,	and	large,	noble	trees	(felled
	at	the	time)	lay	scattered	about	the	grounds.	His	fate	was	de
	cided	at	Mill	Springs	Jan.	20,	1862.	Boone	reports,	concerning
	this	section	of	the	country	between	the	Cumberland	and	Green
	Rivers,	while	on	an	exploring	expedition	with	his	brother	in	1770
	and	1771,	of	observing	numerous	"sink	holes"	or	depressions,
	a	feature	peculiar	to	a	cavernous,	limestone	country,	produced


400
	FENTON'S	POEMS.
	\Vhose	fall	when	first	the	tragic	virgin	saw,
	She	fled,	and	left	her	province	to	the	law.
	Her	merry	sister	still	pursti'd	the	game,
	Her	garb	was	altcr'd,	but	her	gifts	the	same.
	She	first	reform'd	the	muscles	of	her	face,
	And	learnt	the	solemn	screw	for	signs	of	grace	;
	Then	circumcis'd	her	locks,	and	form'd	her	tone,
	By	humming	to	a	tabor	and	a	drone;
	Her	eyes	she	discipliu'd	precisely	right,
	Both	when	to	wink,	and	how	to	turn	the	white	:
	Thus	banish'd	from	the	stage,	she	gravely	next
	Assum'd	a	cloke,	and	quibbled	o'er	a	text.
	But	when,	by	miracles	of	mercy	shown,
	Much	-	suffering	Charles	regain'd	his	father's
	throne	;
	"When	peace	and	plenty	overflow'd	the	land,
	She	straight	pull'd	off	her	satin	cap	and	band;
	Bade	Wycherly	be	bold	in	her	defence,
	With	pointed	wit,	and	energy	of	sense	;
	Etherege	and	Sedley	join'd	him	in	her	cause,
	And	alldeserv'd,	and	all	receiv'd,	applause.
	Restored	with	less	success,	the	Tragic	Muse
	Had	quite	forgot	her	style	by	long	disuse	;
	She	taught	her	Maximins	to	rant	in	rhyme,
	Mistaking	rattling	nonsense	for	sublime	;
	Till	witty	Buckingham	reform'd	her	taste,
	And	sneering	sham'd	her	into	sense	at	last.
	But,	now	relaps'd,	she	dwindles	to	a	song,
	And	weakly	warbles	on	an	eunuch's	tongue	j
	And	with	her	minstrelsy	may	still	remain,
	Till	Southerne	court	her	to	be	great	again.
	Perhaps	the	beauties	of	thy	Spartan	dame,
	Who	(long	defrauded	of	the	public	fame)
	Shall,	with	superior	majesty	avow'd,
	Shine	like	a	goddess	breaking	from	a	cloud	;
	Once	more	may	reinstate	her	on	the	stage,
	Her	action	graceful,	and	divine	her	rage.
	Arts	have	their	empires,	and,	like	other	states,
	Their	rise	and	fall	are	govern'd	by	the	Fates
	They,	when	their	period's	measur'd	out	by	Time,
	Transplant	their	laurelif	to	another	clime.
	The	Grecian	Muse	once	fill'd	with	loud	alarms
	The	court	of	Heaven,	and	clad	the	gods	in	arms;
	The	trumpet	silent,	numbly	she	essay'd
	The	Doric	reed,	and	sung	beneath	the	shade	;
	Extoll'd	a	frugal	life,	and	taught	the	swains
	T	observe	the	seasons,	and	manure	the	plains	;
	Sometimes	in	warbled	hymns	she	paid	her	vow,
	Or	wove	Olympic	wreaths	for	Theron's	brow	;
	Sometimes	on	flowery	beds	she	lay	supine,
	And	gave	her	thoughts	a	loose	to	love	and	wine;
	Or,	in	her	sable	stole	and	buskins	dress'd,
	Show'd	Vice	enthron'd,	and	virtuous	kings	op-
	press'd.
	The	nymph	still	fair,	however	past	her	bloom,
	From	Greece	at	length	was	led	in	chains	to	Rome	:
	Whilst	wars	abroad,	and	civil	discord,	reign'd,
	Silent	the	beauteous	captive	long	remain'd	;
	That	interval	employ'd	her	timely	care
	To	study,	and	refine	the	language	there.
	She	views	with	anguish,	on	tlie	Roman	stage,
	The	Grecian	beauties	weep,	the	warriors	rage	:
	"Rut	most	those	scenes	delight	th'	immortal	maid,
	Which	Scipio	had	revis'd,	and	Koscius	play'd.
	Thence	to	the	pleadings	of	the	gown	she	goes
	(For	Themis	tlirn	could	speak	in	polish'd	prose)	:
	Charm'd	at	the	bar,	amid	th'	attentive	throng,
	Shebless'd	the	Syren-	power	of	Tnily's	tongue.
	But	when,	Oclavius,	thy	successful	sword
	Was	si.taiii	u	ami	universal	peiict-	rt-stor'd,
	Fond	of	a	monarch,	to	the	court	she	came.
	Ami	chose	a	numerous	choir	to	chant	his	fame.
	First	from	the	green	retreats	and	lowly	plains,	.
	Her	Virgil	soar'd	sublime	in	epic	strains	;
	His	theme	so	glorious,	and	his	flight	so	true,
	She	with	Ma^onian	garlands	grac'd	his	brow;
	Taught	Horace	then	to	touch	the	Lesbian	lyre,
	And	Sappho's	sweetness	join'd	with	Pindar's	fire.
	By	Caesar's	bounty	all	the	tuneful	train
	Enjoy'd,	and	sung	of	Saturn's	golden	reign;
	No	genius	then	was	left	to	live	on	praise,
	Or	curs'd	the	barren	ornament	of	bays	;
	On	all	her	sons	he	cast	a	kind	regard,
	Nor	could	they	write	so	fast	as	he	reward.
	The	Muse,	industrious	to	record	his	name
	In	the	bright	annals	of	eternal	Fame,
	Profuse	of	favours,	lavish'd	all	her	store,
	And	for	one	reign	made	many	ages	poor.
	Now	from	the	rugged	North	unnumber'd	swarms
	Invade	the	Latian	coasts	with	barbarous	arms	;
	A	race	unpolish'd,	but	inur'd	to	toil,
	Rough	as	their	heaven,	and	barren	as	their	soil.
	These	locusts	every	springing	art	destroy'd,
	And	soft	Humanity	before	them	dy'd.
	Picture	no	more	maintain'd	the	doubtful	strife
	With	Nature's	scenes,	nor	gave	the	canvas	life	;
	Nor	Sculpture	exercis'd	her	skill,	beneath
	Her	forming	hand,	to	make	the	marble	breathe:
	Struck	with	despair,	they	stood	devoid	of	thought,
	Less	lively	than	the	works	themselves	had	wroughu
	On	those	twin-sisters	such	disasters	came,
	Though	colours	and	proportions	are	the	same
	In	every	age	and	clime	;	their	beauties	known
	To	every	language,	and	confin'd	by	none.
	But	Fate	less	freedom	to	the	Muse	affords,
	And	checks	her	genius	with	the	choice	of	words	:
	To	paint	her	thoughts,	the	diction	must	be	found
	Of	easygrfendeur,	and	harmonious	sound.
	Thus	when	she	rais'd	her	voice	divinely	great
	To	sing	the	founder	of	the	Roman	state	;
	The	language	was	adapted	to	the	song,
	Sweet	and	sublime,	with	native	beauty	strong	:
	But	when	the	Goths	insulting	troops	appear'd,
	Such	dissonance	the	trembling	virgin	heard	!
	Chang'd	to	a	swan,	from	Tyber's	troubled	streams
	She	wingVI	her	flight,	and	sought	the	silver	Thames.
	Long	in	the	melancholy	grove	she	staid,
	And	taught	the	pensive	Druids	in	the	shade	;
	In	solemn	and	instructive	notes	they	sung
	From	whence	the	beauteous	frame	of	Nature
	sprung,
	Who	polish'd	all	the	radiant	orbs	above,
	And	in	bright	order	made	the	planets	move	;
	Whence	thunders	roar,	and	frightful	meteors	fly,
	And	comets	roll	unbounded	through	the	sky	;
	Who	wing'd	the	winds,	and	gave	the	streams	to
	flow,
	And	rais'd	the	rocks,	and	spread	the	lawns	below	;
	Whence	the	gay	Spring	exults	in	flowery	pride,
	And	Autumn	with	the	bleeding	grape	is	dy'd	;
	Whence	Summer	suns	embrown	the	labouring
	swains,
	And	shivering	Winter	pines	in	icy	chains:
	And	prais'd	the	Power	Supremo,	nor	dar'd	advance
	So	vain	a	theory	as	that	of	Chance.
	But	in	this	isle	she	found	the	nymphs	so	fair,
	She	chang'd	her	hand,	and	chose	a	softer	air,
	And	Love	and	Beauty	next	became	her	care*
	Greece,	her	lov'd	country,	only	could	afford
	A	Venus	and	-a	Helen	to	record;


TRANSLATIONS,
	499
	"	Thus	vanquish'd	too,	a	third	form	still	remains,
	Chang'd	to	a	bull,	my	lowing	fills	the	plains.
	Straight	on	the	left	his	nervous	arms	were	thrown
	Upon	my	brindled	neck,	and	tugg'd	it	down	;
	Then	deep	he	struck	my	horn	into	ine	sand,
	And	fell'd	my	bulk	along	the	dusty	land.
	Nor	yet	his	fury	cool'd	;	'twixt	rage	and	sconi,
	From	iny	maim'd	front	he	tore	the	stubborn	horn	;
	This,	heap'd	with	flowers	and	fruits,	the	Naiads
	bear,
	Sacred	to	Plenty,	and	the	bounteous	year."
	He	spoke	;	when	lo	!	a	beauteous	nymph	appears,
	Girt,	like	Diana's	train,	with	flowing	hairs;
	The	horn	she	brings,	in	which	all	autumn's	stor'd,
	And	ruddy	apples	for	the	second	board.
	Now	morn	begins	to	dawn,	the	Sun's	bright	fire
	Gilds	the	high	mountains,	and	the	youths	retire	;
	Nor	stay'd	they,	till	the	troubled	stream	subsides,
	And	in	its	bounds	with	peaceful	current	glides.
	But	Acheloiis	in	his	oozy	bed
	Deep	hides	his	brow	deform'd,	and	rustic	head	:
	No	real	wound	the	victor's	triumph	show'd,
	But	his	lost	honours	griev'd	the	watery	god	;
	Yet	ev'n	that	loss	the	willow's	leaves	o'erspread,
	And	verdant	reeds,	in	garlands,	bind	his	head.
	THE	DEATH	OF	NESSUS,
	THE	CENTAUR.
	TH	virgin	too,	thy	love,	O	Nessus	!	found,
	To	her	alone	you	owe	the	fatal	wound.
	As	the	strong	son	of	Jove	his	bride	conveys,
	Where	his	paternal	lands	their	bulwarks	raise	;
	Where	from	her	slopy	urn	Evenus	pours
	Her	rapid	current,	swell'd	by	wintery	showers,
	He	came.	The	frequent	eddies	whirl'd	the	tide,
	And	the	deep	rolling	waves	all	pass	deny'd.
	As	for	himself,	he	stood	unmov'd	by	fears,
	For	now	his	bridal	charge	employ'd	his	cares.
	The	strong-limb'd	Nessus	thus	officious	cry'd,
	(For	he	the	shallows	of	the	stream	had	try'd)
	"	Swim	thou,	Alcides,	all	thy	strength	prepare;
	On	yonder	bank	I'll	lodge	thy	nuptial	care."
	Th'	Aonian	chief	to	Nessus	trusts	his	wife,
	All	pale,	and	trembling	for	her	hero's	life	:
	Cloth'd	as	he	stood	in	the	fierce	lion's	hide,
	The	laden	quiver	o'er	his	shoulder	ty'd
	(For	cross	the	stream	his	bow	and	club	were	cast)	;
	Swift	he	plung'd	in	:	"	These	billows	shall	be	pass'd."
	He	said,	nor	sought	where	smoother	waters	glide,
	But	stemm'd	the	rapid	dangers	of	the	tide.
	The	bank	he	reach'd	:	again	the	bow	he	bears	;
	When,	hark	!	his	bride's	known	voice	alarms	his
	"	Nessus	!	to	thee	I	call,"	aloud	he	cries	;	[ears.
	"	Vain	is	thy	trust	in	flight,	be	timely	wise:
	Thou	monster	double-shap'd,	my	right	set	free	!
	If	thou	no	reverence	owe	my	fame	and	me,
	Yet	kindred	should	thy	lawless	lust	deny.
	Think	not,	perfidious	wretch,	from	me	to	fly,
	Though	t*ing'd	with	horse's	speed	;	wounds	shall
	Swift	as	his	words	the	fatal	arrow	flew	:	[pursue	:"
	The	Centaur's	back	admits	the	feather'd	wood,
	And	through	his	breast	the	barbed	weapon	stood;
	Which	when,	in	anguish,	through	the	flesh	he	tore,
	From	both	the	wounds	gush'd	forth	the	spumy	gore,
	Mix'd	with	Lernjean	venom	;	this	he	took,
	Nor	dire	revenge	his	dying	breast	forsook.
	His	garment,	in	the	reeking	purple	dy'd,
	T	rouze	love's	passion,	be	presents	the	bride.
	THE	DEATH	OF	HERCULES.
	Now	a	long	interval	of	time	succeeds,
	When	the	great	son	of	Jove's	immortal	deeds,
	And	step-dame's	hate,	had	filPd	Earth's	utmost
	round;
	He	from	CEchalia,	with	new	laurels	crown'd,
	In	triumph	was	return'd.	He	rites	prepares,
	And	to	the	king	of	gods	directs	his	prayers,
	When	Fame	(who	falsehood	clothes	in	truth's	dis
	guise,
	And	swells	her	little	bulk	with	growing	lies)
	Thy	tender	ear,	O	Deianira,	mov'd,
	That	Hercules	the	fair	lole	lov'd.
	Her	love	believes	the	tale	;	the	truth	she	fear*
	Of	his	new	passion,	and	gives	way	to	tears.
	The	flowing	tears	diffus'd	her	wretched	grief,
	"	Why	seek	I	thus,	from	streaming	eyes^	relief	?"
	She	cries	;	"	indulge	not	thus	these	fruitless	cares,
	The	harlot	will	but	triumph	in	thy	tears	:
	Let	something	be	resolv'd,	while	yet	there's	time	;
	My	bed	not	conscious	of	a	rival's	crime.
	In	silence	shall	I	mourn,	or	loud	complain	?
	Shall	I	seek	Calydon,	or	here	remain	?
	What	though,	ally'd	to	Meleager's	fame,
	I	boast	the	honours	of	a	sister's	name	?
	My	wrongs,	perhaps,	now	urge	me	to	pursue
	Some	desperate	deed,	by	which	the	world	shall	view
	How	far	revenge	and	woman's	rage	can	rise,
	When	weltering	in	her	blood	the	harlot	dies."
	Thus	various	passions	rul'd	by	turns	her	breast.
	She	now	resolves	to	send	the	fatal	vest,
	Dy'd	with	Lernaean	gore,	whose	power	might
	His	soul	anew,	and	rouze	declining	love.	[move
	Nor	knew	she	what	her	sudden	rage	bestows,
	When	she	to	Lichas	trusts	her	future	woes	;
	With	soft	endearments	she	the	boy	command*
	To	bear	the	garment	to	her	husband's	hands.
	Th'	unwitting	hero	takes	the	gift	in	haste,
	And	o'er	his	shoulders	Lerna's	poison	cast.
	As	first	the	fire	with	frankincense	he	straws,
	And	utters	to	the	gods	his	holy	vows	;
	And	on	the	marble	altar's	polish'd	frame
	Pours	forth	the	grapy	stream	;	the	rising	flame
	Sudden	dissolves	the	subtle	poisonousjuice,
	Which	taints	his	blood,	and	all	his	nerves	bedews.
	With	wonted	fortitude	he	bore	the	smart,
	And	not	a	groan	confess'd	his	burning	heart.
	At	length	his	patience	was	subdued	by	pain,
	He	rends	the	sacred	altar	from	the	plain	;
	CEte's	wide	forests	echo	with	his	cries	!
	Now	to	rip	off	the	deathful	robe	he	tries.
	Where'er	he	plucks	the	vest,	the	skin	he	tears,
	The	mangled	muscles	arid	huge	bones	he	bares,
	(A	ghastly	sight	!	)	or,	raging	with	his	pain,
	To	rend	the	sticking	plague	he	tugs	in	vain.
	As	the	red	iron	hisses	in	the	flood.
	So	boils	the	venom	in	his	curdling	blood.
	Now	with	the	greedy	flame	his	entrails	glow,
	And	livid	sweats	down	all	bis	body	flow	;
	The	cracking	nerves	burnt	up	are	burst	in	twain,
	The	lurking	venom	melts	his	swimming	brain.
	Then,	lifting	both	his	hands	aloft,	he	cries,
	"	Glut	my	revenge,	dread	empress	of	the	skies	j
	Sate	with	my	death	the	rancour	of	thy	heart,
	Look	down	with	pleasure,	and	enjoy	my	smart.
	Or,	if	e'er	pity	mov'd	a	hostile	breast,
	[For	here	I	stand	thy	enemy	profest)
	Take	hence	this	hateful	life,	with	tortures	torn^
	[nur'd	to	trouble,	and	to	labours	born.


ON	SIR	WILlOUGHBY	ASTON.
	As	champion	for	the	sacred'st	race	of	men,
	Accept	this	tribute	from	a	grateful	pen	;
	Firm	to	the	church,	and	loyal	to	the	crown
	Is	more	than	fame,	and	sanctifies	renown.
	Nor	wonder	then	so	many	graces	join'd,
	To	form	the	perfect	beauties	of	his	mind	:
	He	from	his	ancestors	deriv'd	them	down,
	Improving	virtues	by	descent	his	own.
	And	first	thy	Aston's	matchless	form	survey,
	From	early	youth	to	nature's	last	decay	:
	The	lively	features	of	his	beauty	trace,
	And	give	each	lineament	its	native	grace.
	Grandeur	and	sweetness	in	his	person	join'd,
	August	his	presence,	and	his	aspect	kind	;
	His	lofty	stature,	and	distinguished	mien,
	Confess'd	the	greatness	of	a	soul	within	;
	For	generous	natures	purify	their	clay,
	And	o'er	the	body	spread	a	lucid	ray	:
	Through	every	part	informing	spirits	fly,
	Disdain	restraint,	and	sparkle	at	the	eye.
	Such	general	lustre,	such	resistless	grace,
	His	limbs	adorn'd,	and	triumph'd	in	his	face.
	But	as	the	Earth	in	her	capacious	veins
	The	splendid	treasure	of	her	mines	contains	:
	With	fading	flowers	she	paints	the	surface	o'er,
	But	inward	shines	with	unexhausted	store	;
	So	lovely	forms	are	on	mankind	bestow'd,
	Only	to	dignify	the	soul's	abode	:
	Within	the	beams	of	sparkling	wit	we	find,
	The	charms	of	sense,	and	treasures	of	the	mind.
	Indulgent	Nature	thus	her	bounty	show'd,
	Thus	every	shining	faculty	bestow'd	:
	With	stores	enrich'd	his	intellectual	seat,
	And	form'd	the	lustre	of	his	mind	compleat.
	Where	aged	Cham	in	fam'd	meanders	flows,
	His	early	youth	a	soft	retirement	chose,
	To	rest	beneath	the	venerable	shade,
	Where	Spenser	sung,	and	Cowley's	Muse	was	laid.
	Propitious	Nature	had	prepar'd	before,
	A	mind	tenacious	of	the	learned	store	;
	The	flowing	springs	of	knowledge	to	receive,
	And	take	impressions	fast	as	art	could	give.
	Auspicious	Cham	!	not	all	thy	boasted	race
	Of	tuneful	youths,	that	celebrate	thy	praise	j
	That	in	the	various	spheres	of	learning	shine,
	Belov'd	by	Phoebus	and	the	sacred	Nine	;
	With	nobler	wreaths	did	e'er	thy	temples	crown,
	Or	add,	like	him,	to	thy	diffus'd	renown.
	And	next	the	flowing	robe	employ'd	his	care,
	And	bulky	volumes	of	the	painful	bar	:
	Though	wealth	and	fame	the	toilsome	search	attend,
	Yet	he	pursued	it	for	a	nobler	end.
	Obscure	and	intricate	our	laws	appear,	[clear	:
	Perplex'd	with	comments	that	should	make	them
	His	justice	through	the	gloomy	mists	survey'd,
	And	Reason	found	by	subtleties	betray'd	;
	With	Eloquence	he	smooth'd	the	rugged	way,
	And	scatter'd	shades	with	Judgment's	piercing	ray.
	He	Nature	in	her	dark	recesses	sought,
	And	with	Philosophy	sublim'd	his	thought.
	In	all	the	various	parts	of	learning	skill'd,
	That	Grecian	sages,	or	the	Roman,	yield	:
	He	from	the	ancients	drain'd	their	richest	store,
	Refining	still	with	wit	the	sparkling	ore.
	Nor	did	he	want	the	lyre's	harmonious	sound,
	Whose	pleasing	accents	all	his	labours	crown'd	:
	The	tuneful	lyre,	that	charms	us	with	delight,
	Repels	our	cares,	and	glads	the	tedious	night	;
	Restrains	our	passions,	calms	our	furious	rage,
	The	joy	of	youth,	and	the	relief	of	age.
	His	piercing	faculties,	serenely	bright,	'
	Let	inward	to	the	soul	distincter	light	:
	His	senses	exquisite,	and	reason	sound,
	Surmounted	all	the	obstacles	they	found,
	In	knowledge	vers'd,	in	learning's	depths	profound.
	Nor	were	his	hours	to	books	alone	confin'd,
	His	person	was	accomplish'd	as	his	mind	:
	He	us'd	his	weapons	with	admir'd	success,
	Excell'd	in	courtship,	and	a	kind	address.
	Whether	he	urg'd	the	courser	to	his	speed,
	Or	temper'd	with	his	skill,	the	fiery	steed	j
	When	foaming	at	the	ring	he	spurns	the	sands,
	Repeats	his	stroke,	and	launches	as	he	stands	j
	With	grateful	gesture	he	did	each	command,
	And	ply'd	his	reins	with	an	instructive	hand.
	Or	whether,	to	the	sportive	dance	inclin'd,
	In	lively	measures	he	the	concert	join'd	:
	None	ever	mov'd	with	more	majestic	pace,
	Show'd	greater	art,	or	more	becoming	grace.
	His	flowing	wit,	with	solid	judgment	join'd,
	Talents	united	rarely	in	a	mind,
	Had	all	the	graces	and	engaging	art,
	That	charm	the	ear	and	captivate	the	heart.
	No	pointed	satire,	nor	morose	disdain,
	Allay'd	the	pleasure	of	his	words	with	pain	:
	His	inoffensive	tongue,	from	slander	free,
	From	Flattery's	vice,	or	blasted	Calumny	;
	Knew	all	the	springs	that	secret	passions	move.
	Raise	admiration,	or	inspire	with	love.
	Sententious	and	instructive	his	discourse,
	He	urg'd	his	reasons	with	resistless	force.
	A	lively	eloquence	adorn'd	his	thought,
	And	happy	turns	of	wit	occur'd	unsought	:
	Expressive	words	his	flowing	sense	convey'd,
	Just	were	his	thoughts,	and	powerful	to	persuade.
	But,	goddess,	now	a	nobler	scene	survey,
	Expand	thy	wings,	thy	brightest	charms	display	!
	What	various	beauties	here	distract	thy	sight	!
	What	virtues	that	surmount	thy	towering	flight	1
	As	nameless	stars,	that	form	the	galaxy,
	With	undistinguish'd	lustre	gild	the	sky	;
	So	shone	the	graces	that	adorn'd	his	mind,
	And	with	concenter'd	rays	their	beauties	join'd	:
	Whose	lucid	numbers	but	repel	thy	sight,
	And,	thus	united,	form	one	glorious	orb	of	light.
	His	riper	years	to	wisdom	he	apply'd,
	Each	path	pursued,	and	every	conquest	try'd	:
	Wisdom,	the	darling	attribute	alone,
	By	which	th'	Almighty's	more	distinctly	known,
	And,	when	contracted	to	a	narrow	span,
	Becomes	the	noblest	faculty	of	man.	[chace,
	Through	books	he	trac'd	her	in	the	pleasing?
	Ransack'd	their	stores,	and	still	maiutain'd	his	pace.
	With	crowds,	and	busy	men,	he	strove	to	find
	The	flying	fair,	the	object	of	his	mind	:
	Through	specious	arts,	through	all	their	vain	disguise,
	He	saw,	distinguiih'd,	and	obtain'd	the	prize.
	His	mind,	with	eac.h	superior	talent	fraught,
	For	councils	form'd	his	enterprizing	thought	:
	Quick	of	dispatch,	discreet	in	every	trust,
	Rigidly	honest,	and	severely	just
	Though	kindness	in	his	generous	bosom	reign'd,
	The	dignity	of	pow'r	he	still	maintain'd	:
	None	e'er	discharg'd	affairs	with	more	address,
	Serv'd	better	public	posts,	or	sought	them	less.
	His	constancy	appear'd	in	every	state,
	Fix'd	and	unmov'd	as	the	decrees	of	fate	:
	No	fluctuating	doubts	his	mind	distress'd,
	Nor	shook	the	strong	foundations	of	his	breast.


84
	YALDEN'S	POEMS.
	tils	resolution	bore	him	still	above
	The	rash	effects	of	enmity	or	love	:
	Firm	on	the	basis	of	himself	he	stood,
	Of	right	tenacious,	permanent	in	good.
	Hence	flow'd	a	courage	unallay'd	with	fear,
	A	mind	undaunted,	and	a	conscience	clear	:
	With	innocence	and	virtue	for	a	guide,
	Successfully	he	stem'd	th'	impetuous	tide.
	Intrepid	thus	he	revolutions	bore,
	Nor	deviated	from	paths	he	trod	before	:
	The	power	of	Fortune	still	disdain'd	to	own,
	Nor	courted	smiles,	nor	sunk	beneath	her	frown.
	He	serv'd	his	country,	with	regards	above
	The	common	views	of	mercenary	love	:
	His	passion	such,	if	not	extended	more,
	As	pious	Romans	to	their	Latium	bore.
	No	specious	kindness	popularly	feign'd,
	By	interest	rais'd	or	with	ambition	stain'd	:
	The	tender	piety	his	actions	show'd,
	From	duty	sprung,	from	fond	affection	flow'd.
	Untainted	with	the	stain	of	either	vice,
	Of	lavish	waste,	or	grasping	avarice	:
	Nor	squander'd	wealth,	nor	with	a	sordid	breast
	Condemn'd	to	hoards	the	treasures	he	possess'd.
	His	hospitable	roof,	with	plenty	stor'd,
	Enjoy'd	the	blessings	of	a	smiling	board	:
	Heav'n,	that	had	bless'd	him	with	a	large	increase,
	Gave	him	a	soul	deserving	to	possess.
	The	father's	loyalty	descended	down,
	Endear'd	by	sufferings,	to	his	eldest	son.
	As	Hannibal	pursued	the	Roman	state,
	With	double	portions	of	his	father's	hate	:
	Such	fix'd	aversion	in	his	bosom	sprung,
	And	arm'd	his	soul	against	our	factions,	young:
	A	murder'd	prince,	and	slaughter'd	parent's	fate,
	On	the	rebellious	race	entail'd	his	hate	:
	Firm	to	the	crown	his	duty	he	retain'd,	i
	And	o'er	his	heart	his	rightful	monarch	reign'd.
	View	beauties	yet	of	a	sublimer	kind,
	The	heavenly	offspring	of	a	pious	mind	:
	Charms	that	from	innocence	and	virtue	flow,
	That	to	religion	all	their	splendour	owe	;
	Where	no	obscuring	spots	their	lustre	hide,
	By	crimes	untainted,	undeform'd	with	pride.
	BlessM	Charity,	the	pure	etherial	ray,
	That	Heax	r	en	itself	does	to	our	breasts	convey	;
	In	larger	portions	to	his	bosom	came,
	And	o'er	his	soul	diffus'd	a	stronger	flame.
	In	him	the	wretched	always	found	relief,
	Patron	of	want,	redresser	of	their	grief:
	To	him	th'	afflicted	never	sued	in	vain,
	He	felt	their	miseries,	and	eas'd	their	pain.
	In	midst	of	plenty	free	from	sensual	vice,
	Nor	more	indulg'd	than	nature	would	suffice	:
	The	calm	and	equal	temper	of	his	soul
	Did	every	guilty	appetite	control	;
	Within	their	womb	the	vicious	seeds	suppress'd.
	And	strangled	forming	passions	in	his	breast.
	The	Church	in	him	enjoy'd	a	faithful	son,
	Whose	duty	with	his	early	years	begun	:
	A	virtuous	life	his	just	obedience	show'd,
	And	from	religion	his	affection	flow'd	;
	Long	application	fix'd	his	heart	secure,
	He	search'd	her	doctrines,	and	he	found	them	pure.
	The	Liturgy	employ'd	his	daily	care,
	His	public	worship,	and	his	private	prayer	:
	To	all	its	rites	conformity	he	paid,
	Tiie	service	lov'd,	and	discipline	obey'd.
	Such	strong	devotion,	such	celestial	fire,
	[mlam'd	his	heart,	and	did	his	breast	inspire	:
	As	if	religion	had	engross'd	the	whole,
	And	Heaven	remain'd	the	object	of	his	soul.
	Descend,	my	Muse	;	here	stop	thy	pleasing	flight*
	For	mournful	prospects,	gloomy	shades	of	night.
	Attend	the	last	expiring	scene	of	life,
	A	painful	conflict,	and	unequal	strife	:
	Where	Nature	languishes	beneath	the	weight
	Of	racking	torments,	and	approaching	fate.
	With	matchless	patience,	and	undaunted	mind,
	He	bore	his	anguish,	and	his	soul	resign'd;
	As	he	the	glorious	prospect	kept	in	view,
	And	our	old	world	rejected	for	the	new.	[shed,
	The	bounteous	Heavens	their	fruitful	blessing^
	And	chaste	Lncina	crown'd	his	nuptial	bed	:
	From	whence	a	fair	and	numerous	offspring	came,
	The	happy	pledges	of	a	mutual	flame.
	From	warlike	Hudard,	founder	of	his	race,
	Twenty	renown'd	descents	his	lineage	grace	:
	And	from	his	loins	complete	the	number	sprung^
	For	every	ancestor	a	smiling	young.
	The	happy	husband	of	a	matchless	dame,
	Endear'd	by	virtues,	and	unblemish'd	fame	:
	No	guilty	passion	ever	claim	'd	a	part,
	The	consort	of	his	bed	engross'd	his	heart.
	As	two	fair	tapers	burn	with	equal	flame,
	Their	heat	proportipn'd	and	their	light	the	sarn^
	And	though	by	slow	degrees	they	both	decline,
	Both	to	the	last	with	the	same	lustre	shine	:
	Such	equal	flames	inspir'd	the	happy	pair,
	Mutual	their	passions,	and	the	same	their	care	:
	Though	years	expir'd,	and	youth	consum'd	away.
	Their	fond	affections	never	felt	decay.
	f	As	when	the	Sun	our	hemisphere	resigns.
	He	leaves	us	light,	and	by	reflection	shines,
	And	when	the	gloomy	interval	is	o'er^
	He	rises	bright	and	glorious	as	before	:
	Such	likeness	in	his	successor	we	find,
	Left	as	the	image	of	himself	behind	;
	With	all	the	virtues	of	his	race	endued,
	The	happy	father	's	in	the	son	renew'd.
	""	Methinks	I	see	a	pompous	tomb	arise,
	Beauteous	the	form,	magnificient	the	size	:
	Enchas'd	with	ore,	with	well-wrought	marble	made,.
	Worthy	the	artist,	and	the	glorious	shade.
	Crowds	of	officious	angels	weep	around,
	With	lamps	extinguish'd,	and	tLeir	robes	unbound	t
	With	heads	reclin'd,	and	drooping	wings	they	mourn,
	Form'd	to	sustain,	and	grace	the	ponderous	urn.
	In	abject	postures,	and	a	flowing	dress,
	Postures	that	love	and	tenderness	express,
	The	sacred	Nine	surround	the	spacious	tomb.
	And	spread	infectious	sorrows	o'er	the	dome	;
	Their	lyres	unstrung	are	thrown	neglected	by.
	And	scatter'd	wreaths	in	just	disorder	lie.
	High	in	the	midst	is	his	effigies	plae'd,
	The	boast	of	art,	with	every	beauty	grac'd.
	Advancing	age	in	every	line	appears,
	And	shades	his	brow	with	honourable	years	:
	Just	to	his	form,	his	looks	dissembled	right,
	With	joy	detain	the	fond	spectator's	sight.
	Descending	Phoebus	crowns	the	upper	scene,
	His	arm	extended	with	triumphant	green,
	The	sacred	wreath	around	his	brows	to	placa.
	And	shedding	on	him	the	paternal	rays.
	In	vain,	alas	!	vie	mausoleums	raise,
	Statues	erect,	and	pyramids	of	praise:


HOBBINOL.
	177
	J!o	through	the	crowd	from	breast	to	breast	swift	flevr
	The	propagated	rage;	loud	vollied	oaths,
	Lik<>	thunder	bursting	from	a	cloud,	gave	signs
	Of	wrath	awak'd.	Prompt	fury	soon	supplied
	With	arms	uncouth	;	and	tough	well-season'd	plants,
	Weighty	with	lead	infus'd,	on	either	host
	Fall	thick,	and	heavy	;	stools	in	pieces	rent,
	And	chairs,	and	forms,	and	batter'd	bowls,	are	hurl'd
	With	fell	intent	;	like_bombs	the	bottles	fly
	Hissing-	in	air,	their	sharp-edg'd	fragments	dtench'd
	In	the	warm	spouting	gore	;	heaps	driven	on	heaps
	Promiscuous	lie.	Tonsorio	now	advanc'd
	On	the	rough	edge	of	battle	:	his	broad	front
	Beneath	his	shining	helm	secure,	as	erst
	Was	thine,	Mambrino,	stout	Iberian	knight	I
	Defied	the	rattling	storm,	that	on	his	head
	Fell	innocent.	A	table's	ragged	frame
	In	his	right-hand	he	bore,	Herculean	club	\
	Crowds,-	push'd	on	crowds,	before	his	potent	arm,
	Fled	ignominious	;	havock,	and	dismay,
	Hung	on	their	rear.	Collin,	a	merry	swain,
	Blithe	as	the	soaring	lark,	as	sweet	the	strains
	Of	his	soft	warbling	lips,	that	whistling	cheer
	His	labouring	team,	they	toss	their	heads	wellpleas'd,
	In	gaudy	plumage	deck'd,	with	stern	disdain
	Beheld	this	victor	proud	;	his	generous	soul
	Brook'd	not	the	foul	disgrace.	High	o'er	his	head
	His	ponderous	plough-staff	in	both	hands	he	rais'd	;
	Erect'	he	stood,	and	stretching	every	nerve,
	As	from	a	forceful	engine,	down	it	fell
	Upon	his	hollow'd	helm,	that	yielding	sunk
	Beneath'	the	blow,	and	with	its	sharpen'd	edge
	Shear'd	both	his	ears,	they	on	his	shoulders	broad
	Hung	ragged.	Quick	as	thought,	the	vigorous	youth
	Shortening	his	staff,	the	other	end	he	darts
	Into	his	gaping	jaws.	Tonsorio	fled
	Sore	maim'd;	with	pounded	teeth	and	clotted	gore
	'Half-choak'd,	he	fled	;	with	him	the	host	retir'd,
	Companions	of	his	shame	;	all	but	the	stout,
	And	erst	unconquer'd	Hildebrand,	brave	man	\
	Bold	champion	of	the	hills	\	thy	weighty	blows
	Our	fathers	felt	dismay'd	;	to	keep	thy	post
	Unmov'd,	whilom	thy	valour's	choice,	now	sad
	Necessity	compels	;	decrepit	now
	With	age,	and	stiff	with	honourable	wounds,
	He	stands	unterrify'd	:	one-crutch	sustains
	His	frame	majestic,	th'	other	in	his	hand
	He	wields	tremendous	;	like	a	mountain	boar
	In	toils	enclos'd	he	dares	his	circling	foes.
	They	shrink	aloof,	or	soon	with	shame	repent
	The	rash	assault	;	the	rustic	heroes	fall
	Jn	heaps	around.	Cuddy,	a	dextrous	youth,
	When	force	was	vain,	on	fraudful	art	rely'd	:
	Close	to	the	ground	low-cowering,	unperceiv'd,
	Cautious	he	crept,	and	with	his	crooked	bill
	Cut	sheer	the	frail	support,	prop	of	his	age	:
	Reeling	a	while	he	stood,	and	menac'd	fierce
	Th'	insidious	swain,	reluctant	now	at	length
	Fell	prone,	and	plough'd	the	dust.	So	the	tall	oak,
	Old	monarch	of	the	groves,	that	long	had	stood
	The	shock	of	warring	winds	and	the	red	bolts
	Of	angry	Jove,	shorn	of	his	leafy	shade
	At	last,	and	inwardly	decay'd,	if	chance
	The	cruel	woodman	spy	the	friendly	spur,
	His	only	hold;	that	sever'd,	scon	he	nods,
	And	shakes	th'	encumber'd	mountain	as	he	falls.
	When	manly	valour	fail'd,	a	female	arm
	Re*tor'd	the	fight.	As	in	th'	adjacent	booth
	VOL.	XL
	Black	Cindaraxa's	busy	hand	prepar'd
	The	smoaky	viands,	she	beheld,	abash'd,
	The	routed	host,	and	all	her	dastard	friends
	Far	scatter'*!	o'er	the	plain	;	their	shameful	flight
	Gfriev'd	her	proud	heart,	for,	hurried	with	the	stream,
	Ev'n	Talgol	too	had	fled,	her	darling	hoy.
	A	flaming	brand	from	off	the	glowing	hearth
	The	greasy	heroine	snatch'd	;	o'er	her	pale	foes
	The	threatening	mete-tr	shone,	brandish'd	in	air,
	Or	round	their	heads	in	ruddy	circles	play'd.
	Across	the	prostrate	Hildebrand	she	strode,
	Dreadfully	bright	:	the	multitude	appall'd
	Fled	different	ways,	their	beards,	their	hair	in	flames.
	Imprudent	she	pursued,	till	on	the	brink
	Of	the	next	pool,	with	force	united-	press'd,
	And	waving	round	with	huge	two-honded	sway
	Her	blazing	arms,	into	the	muddy	lake"
	The	bold	virago	fell.	Dire	was	the	fray
	Between	the	warring	elements	;	of	old
	Thus	Mulcibftr,	and	Xanthus,	Dardan	stream,
	In	hideous	battle	joiu'd.	Just	sinking	now
	Into	the	boiling	deep,	with	suppliant	hands
	She	begg'd	for	life	;	black	ouse	and	filth	obscene
	Hung	in	her	matted	hair;	the	shouting	crowd
	Insult	her	woes,	and,	proud	of	their	success,
	The	dripping	Amazon	in	triumph	lead.
	Now,	like	a	gathering	storm,	the	rally'd	troops	-
	Blacken'd	the	plain.	Young	Talgol	from	their	frtfnt,
	With	a	fond	lover's	haste,	swift	as	the	hind,
	That,	by	the	huntsman's	voice	alarm'd,	had	fled,
	Panting	returns,	and	seeks	the	gloomy	brake,
	Where	her	dear	fawn	lay	hid,	into	the	booth
	Impatient	rush'd.	But	when	the	fatal	tale
	He	hea'rd,	the	dearest	treasure	of	his	soul
	Purloiu'd,	his	Cindy	lost	;	stiflen'd	and	pale
	A	while	he	stood;	his	kindling	ire	at	length
	Burst	forth	implacable,	and	injur'd	love
	Shot	lightning	from	his	eyes	;	a	spit	he	seiz'd,
	Just	reeking	from	the	fat	surloin,	a	long,
	Unwieldy	spear	;	then	with	impetuous	rage
	Press'd	forward	on	th'	embattled	host,	that	shrunk
	At	his	approach.	The	rich	Avaro	first,
	His	fleshy	rump	bor'd	with	dishonest	wounds,
	Fled	bellowing	:	nor	could	his	numerous	flocks,
	Norall	th'	aspiring	pyramids	that	grace
	His	yard	well-stor'd,	save	the	penurious	clown.
	Here	Cubbin	fell,	and	there	yoimg	Collakin,
	Nor	his	fond	mother's	prayers	nor	ardent	vows
	Of	love-sick	maids	could	move	relentless	Fate.
	Where'er	he	rag'd,	with	his	far-beaming	lance
	He	thinn'd	their	ranks,	and	all	their	battle	swerv'd-
	With	many	&n	inroad	goar'd.	Then	cast	around
	His	furious	eyes,	if	haply	he	might	find
	The	captive	fair	;	her	in	the	dust	he	spy'd
	Groveling,	disconsolate	;	those	locks,	that,	erst
	So	bright,	shone	like	the	polish'd	jet,	defiPd
	With	mire	impure;	thither	with	eager	haste
	He	ran,	he	flew.	But	when	the	wretched	maid
	Prostrate	he	view'd,	deform'd	with	gaping	wounds
	And	weltering	in	he?	blood,	his	trembling	hand
	Soon	dropp'd	the	dreaded	lance	;	on	her	pale	cheeki
	Ghastly	he	gaz'd,	nor	felt	the	pealing	storm,
	That	on	his	bare	defenceless	brow	fell	thick
	From	every	arm	:	o'erpower'd	at	last,	down	?unk
	His	drooping	head,	on	her	cold	breast	reclin'd.
	Hail,	faithful	pair	!	if	ought	my	verse	qvail,
	Nor	Envy's	spite	nor	Time	Miall	e'er	erfnoe
	The	records	of	your	fame;	blind	British	bardi
	N