From life's superfluous cares enlarged,His debt of human toil discharged,Here Cowley lies! beneath this shed,To every worldly interest dead;With decent poverty content,His hours of ease not idly spent;To fortune's goods a foe profess'd,And hating wealth by all caress'd.'Tis true he's dead; for oh! how small
A spot of earth is now his all:_10Oh! wish that earth may lightly lay,And every care be far away;Bring flowers; the short-lived roses bring,To life deceased, fit offering:And sweets around the poet strow,Whilst yet with life his ashes glow.
In the first rise and infancy of Farce,When fools were many, and when plays were scarce,The raw, unpractised authors could, with ease,A young and unexperienced audience please:No single character had e'er been shown,But the whole herd of fops was all their own;Rich in originals, they set to view,In every piece, a coxcomb that was new.But now our British theatre can boastDrolls of all kinds, a vast, unthinking host!_10Fruitful of folly and of vice, it showsCuckolds, and cits, and bawds, and pimps, and beaux;Rough country knights are found of every shire;Of every fashion gentle fops appear;And punks of different characters we meet,As frequent on the stage as in the pit.Our modern wits are forced to pick and cull,And here and there by chance glean up a fool:Long ere they find the necessary spark,They search the town, and beat about the Park;_20To all his most frequented haunts resort,Oft dog him to the ring, and oft to court,As love of pleasure or of place invites;And sometimes catch him taking snuff at White's.Howe'er, to do you right, the present ageBreeds very hopeful monsters for the stage;That scorn the paths their dull forefathers trod,And wont be blockheads in the common road.Do but survey this crowded house to-night:—Here's still encouragement for those that write._30Our author, to divert his friends to-day,Stocks with variety of fools his play;And that there may be something gay and new,Two ladies-errant has exposed to view:The first a damsel, travelled in romance;The t'other more refined; she comes from France:Rescue, like courteous knights, the nymph from danger;And kindly treat, like well-bred men, the stranger.
When Orpheus tuned his lyre with pleasing woe,Rivers forgot to run, and winds to blow,While listening forests covered as he played,The soft musician in a moving shade.That this night's strains the same success may find,The force of magic is to music joined;Where sounding strings and artful voices fail,The charming rod and muttered spells prevail.Let sage Urganda wave the circling wandOn barren mountains, or a waste of sand,_10The desert smiles; the woods begin to grow,The birds to warble, and the springs to flow.The same dull sights in the same landscape mixed,Scenes of still life, and points for ever fixed,A tedious pleasure on the mind bestow,And pall the sense with one continued show;But as our two magicians try their skill,The vision varies, though the place stands still,While the same spot its gaudy form renews,Shifting the prospect to a thousand views._20Thus (without unity of place transgressed)The enchanter turns the critic to a jest.But howsoe'er, to please your wandering eyes,Bright objects disappear and brighter rise:There's none can make amends for lost delight,While from that circle we divert your sight.
Long has a race of heroes fill'd the stage,That rant by note, and through the gamut rage;In songs and airs express their martial fire,Combat in trills, and in a fugue expire:While, lull'd by sound, and undisturb'd by wit,Calm and serene you indolently sit,And, from the dull fatigue of thinking free,Hear the facetious fiddle's repartee:Our home-spun authors must forsake the field,And Shakspeare to the soft Scarletti yield._10To your new taste the poet of this dayWas by a friend advised to form his play.Had Valentini, musically coy,Shunn'd Phædra's arms, and scorn'd the proffer'd joy,It had not moved your wonder to have seenAn eunuch fly from an enamour'd queen:How would it please, should she in English speak,And could Hippolitus reply in Greek!But he, a stranger to your modish way,By your old rules must stand or fall to-day,_20And hopes you will your foreign taste command,To bear, for once, with what you understand.
Augustus had a design to rebuild Troy, and make it the metropolis of the Roman empire, having closeted several senators on the project: Horace is supposed to have written the following Ode on this occasion.
The man resolved, and steady to his trust,Inflexible to ill, and obstinately just,May the rude rabble's insolence despise,Their senseless clamours and tumultuous cries;The tyrant's fierceness he beguiles,And the stern brow, and the harsh voice defies,And with superior greatness smiles.Not the rough whirlwind, that deformsAdria's black gulf, and vexes it with storms,The stubborn virtue of his soul can move;_10Not the red arm of angry Jove,That flings the thunder from the sky,And gives it rage to roar, and strength to fly.Should the whole frame of nature round him break,In ruin and confusion hurled,He, unconcerned, would hear the mighty crack,And stand secure amidst a falling world.Such were the godlike arts that ledBright Pollux to the blest abodes;Such did for great Alcides plead,_20And gained a place among the gods;Where now Augustus, mixed with heroes, lies,And to his lips the nectar bowl applies:His ruddy lips the purple tincture show,And with immortal strains divinely glow.By arts like these did young Lyæus [11] rise:His tigers drew him to the skies,Wild from the desert and unbroke:In vain they foamed, in vain they stared,In vain their eyes with fury glared;_30He tamed them to the lash, and bent them to the yoke.Such were the paths that Rome's great founder trod,When in a whirlwind snatched on high,He shook off dull mortality,And lost the monarch in the god.Bright Juno then her awful silence broke,And thus the assembled deities bespoke.'Troy,' says the goddess, 'perjured Troy has feltThe dire effects of her proud tyrant's guilt;The towering pile, and soft abodes,_40Walled by the hand of servile gods,Now spreads its ruins all around,And lies inglorious on the ground.An umpire, partial and unjust,And a lewd woman's impious lust,Lay heavy on her head, and sunk her to the dust.Since false Laomedon's tyrannic sway,That durst defraud the immortals of their pay,Her guardian gods renounced their patronage,Nor would the fierce invading foe repel;_50To my resentment, and Minerva's rage,The guilty king and the whole people fell.And now the long protracted wars are o'er,The soft adulterer shines no more;No more does Hector's force the Trojans shield,That drove whole armies back, and singly cleared the field.My vengeance sated, I at length resignTo Mars his offspring of the Trojan line:Advanced to godhead let him rise,And take his station in the skies;_60There entertain his ravished sightWith scenes of glory, fields of light;Quaff with the gods immortal wine,And see adoring nations crowd his shrine:The thin remains of Troy's afflicted host,In distant realms may seats unenvied find,And flourish on a foreign coast;But far be Rome from Troy disjoined,Removed by seas from the disastrous shore;May endless billows rise between, and storms unnumbered roar._70Still let the cursed, detested place,Where Priam lies, and Priam's faithless race,Be cover'd o'er with weeds, and hid in grass.There let the wanton flocks unguarded stray;Or, while the lonely shepherd sings,Amidst the mighty ruins play,And frisk upon the tombs of kings.May tigers there, and all the savage kind,Sad, solitary haunts and silent deserts find;In gloomy vaults, and nooks of palaces,_80May the unmolested lionessHer brinded whelps securely lay,Or couched, in dreadful slumbers waste the day.While Troy in heaps of ruins lies,Rome and the Roman Capitol shall rise;The illustrious exiles unconfinedShall triumph far and near, and rule mankind.In vain the sea's intruding tideEurope from Afric shall divide,And part the severed world in two:_90Through Afric's sands their triumphs they shall spread,And the long train of victories pursueTo Nile's yet undiscovered head.Riches the hardy soldier shall despise,And look on gold with undesiring eyes,Nor the disbowelled earth exploreIn search of the forbidden ore;Those glittering ills concealed within the mine,Shall lie untouched, and innocently shine.To the last bounds that nature sets,_100The piercing colds and sultry heats,The godlike race shall spread their arms;Now fill the polar circle with alarms,Till storms and tempests their pursuits confine;Now sweat for conquest underneath the line.This only law the victor shall restrain,On these conditions shall he reign;If none his guilty hand employTo build again a second Troy,If none the rash design pursue,_110Nor tempt the vengeance of the gods anew.A curse there cleaves to the devoted place,That shall the new foundations raze:Greece shall in mutual leagues conspireTo storm the rising town with fire,And at their armies' head myself will showWhat Juno, urged to all her rage, can do.Thrice should Apollo's self the city raise,And line it round with walls of brass,Thrice should my favourite Greeks his works confound,_120And hew the shining fabric to the ground;Thrice should her captive dames to Greece return,And their dead sons and slaughtered husbands mourn.'But hold, my Muse, forbear thy towering flight,Nor bring the secrets of the gods to light:In vain would thy presumptuous verseThe immortal rhetoric rehearse;The mighty strains, in lyric numbers bound,Forget their majesty, and lose their sound.
Blanda quies victis furtim subrepit ocellis, &c.
As the fair vestal to the fountain came,(Let none be startled at a vestal's name)Tired with the walk, she laid her down to rest,And to the winds exposed her glowing breast,To take the freshness of the morning-air,And gather'd in a knot her flowing hair;While thus she rested, on her arm reclined,The hoary willows waving with the wind,And feather'd choirs that warbled in the shade,And purling streams that through the meadow stray'd,_10In drowsy murmurs lull'd the gentle maid.The god of war beheld the virgin lie,The god beheld her with a lover's eye;And by so tempting an occasion press'd,The beauteous maid, whom he beheld, possess'd:Conceiving as she slept, her fruitful wombSwell'd with the founder of immortal Rome.
The sun's bright palace, on high columns raised,With burnished gold and flaming jewels blazed;The folding gates diffused a silver light,And with a milder gleam refreshed the sight;Of polished ivory was the covering wrought:The matter vied not with the sculptor's thought,For in the portal was displayed on high(The work of Vulcan) a fictitious sky;A waving sea the inferior earth embraced,And gods and goddesses the waters graced._10Ægeon here a mighty whale bestrode;Triton, and Proteus, (the deceiving god,)With Doris here were carved, and all her train,Some loosely swimming in the figured main,While some on rocks their dropping hair divide,And some on fishes through the waters glide:Though various features did the sisters grace,A sister's likeness was in every face.On earth a different landscape courts the eyes,Men, towns, and beasts, in distant prospects rise,_20And nymphs, and streams, and woods, and rural deities.O'er all, the heaven's refulgent image shines;On either gate were six engraven signs.Here Phaëton, still gaining on the ascent,To his suspected father's palace went,Till, pressing forward through the bright ahode,He saw at distance the illustrious god:He saw at distance, or the dazzling lightHad flashed too strongly on his aching sight.The god sits high, exalted on a throne_30Of blazing gems, with purple garments on:The Hours, in order ranged on either hand,And days, and months, and years, and ages, stand.Here Spring appears with flowery chaplets bound;Here Summer in her wheaten garland crowned;Here Autumn the rich trodden grapes besmear;And hoary Winter shivers in the rear.Phoebus beheld the youth from off his throne;That eye, which looks on all, was fixed on one.He saw the boy's confusion in his face,_40Surprised at all the wonders of the place;And cries aloud, 'What wants my son? for knowMy son thou art, and I must call thee so.''Light of the world,' the trembling youth replies,'Illustrious parent! since you don't despiseThe parent's name, some certain token give,That I may Clymene's proud boast believe,Nor longer under false reproaches grieve.'The tender sire was touched with what he said.And flung the blaze of glories from his head,_50And bid the youth advance: 'My son,' said he,'Come to thy father's arms! for ClymeneHas told thee true; a parent's name I own,And deem thee worthy to be called my son.As a sure proof, make some request, and I,Whate'er it be, with that request comply;By Styx I swear, whose waves are hid in night,And roll impervious to my piercing sight.'The youth transported, asks, without delay,To guide the Sun's bright chariot for a day._60The god repented of the oath he took,For anguish thrice his radiant head he shook;'My son,' says he, 'some other proof require,Rash was my promise, rash is thy desire.I'd fain deny this wish which thou hast made,Or, what I can't deny, would fain dissuade.Too vast and hazardous the task appears,Nor suited to thy strength, nor to thy years.Thy lot is mortal, but thy wishes flyBeyond the province of mortality:_70There is not one of all the gods that dares(However skilled in other great affairs)To mount the burning axle-tree, but I;Not Jove himself, the ruler of the sky,That hurls the three-forked thunder from above,Dares try his strength; yet who so strong as Jove?The steeds climb up the first ascent with pain:And when the middle firmament they gain,If downward from the heavens my head I bow,And see the earth and ocean hang below;_80Even I am seized with horror and affright,And my own heart misgives me at the sight.A mighty downfal steeps the evening stage,And steady reins must curb the horses' rage.Tethys herself has feared to see me drivenDown headlong from the precipice of heaven.Besides, consider what impetuous forceTurns stars and planets in a different course:I steer against their motions; nor am I 89Born back by all the current of the sky._90But how could you resist the orbs that rollIn adverse whirls, and stem the rapid pole?But you perhaps may hope for pleasing woods,And stately domes, and cities filled with gods;While through a thousand snares your progress lies,Where forms of starry monsters stock the skies:For, should you hit the doubtful way aright,The Bull with stooping horns stands opposite;Next him the bright Hæmonian Bow is strung;And next, the Lion's grinning visage hung:_100The Scorpion's claws here clasp a wide extent,And here the Crab's in lesser clasps are bent.Nor would you find it easy to composeThe mettled steeds, when from their nostrils flowsThe scorching fire, that in their entrails glows.Even I their headstrong fury scarce restrain,When they grow warm and restive to the rein.Let not my son a fatal gift require,But, oh! in time recall your rash desire;You ask a gift that may your parent tell,_110Let these my fears your parentage reveal;And learn a father from a father's care:Look on my face; or if my heart lay bare,Could you but look, you'd read the father there.Choose out a gift from seas, or earth, or skies,For open to your wish all nature lies,Only decline this one unequal task,For 'tis a mischief, not a gift you ask;You ask a real mischief, Phaëton:Nay, hang not thus about my neck, my son:_120I grant your wish, and Styx has heard my voice,Choose what you will, but make a wiser choice.'Thus did the god the unwary youth advise;But he still longs to travel through the skies,When the fond father (for in vain he pleads)At length to the Vulcanian chariot leads.A golden axle did the work uphold,Gold was the beam, the wheels were orbed with gold.The spokes in rows of silver pleased the sight,The seat with party-coloured gems was bright;_130Apollo shined amid the glare of light.The youth with secret joy the work surveys;When now the morn disclosed her purple rays;The stars were fled; for Lucifer had chasedThe stars away, and fled himself at last.Soon as the father saw the rosy morn,And the moon shining with a blunter horn,He bid the nimble Hours without delayBring forth the steeds; the nimble Hours obey:From their full racks the generous steeds retire,_140Dropping ambrosial foams and snorting fire.Still anxious for his son, the god of day,To make him proof against the burning ray,His temples with celestial ointment wet,Of sovereign virtue to repel the heat;Then fixed the beaming circle on his head,And fetched a deep, foreboding sigh, and said,'Take this at least, this last advice, my son:Keep a stiff rein, and move but gently on:The coursers of themselves will run too fast,_150Your art must be to moderate their haste.Drive them not on directly through the skies,But where the Zodiac's winding circle lies,Along the midmost zone; but sally forthNor to the distant south, nor stormy north.The horses' hoofs a beaten track will show,But neither mount too high nor sink too low,That no new fires or heaven or earth infest;Keep the mid-way, the middle way is best.Nor, where in radiant folds the Serpent twines,_160Direct your course, nor where the Altar shines.Shun both extremes; the rest let Fortune guide,And better for thee than thyself provide!See, while I speak the shades disperse away,Aurora gives the promise of a day;I'm called, nor can I make a longer stay.Snatch up the reins; or still the attempt forsake,And not my chariot, but my counsel take,While yet securely on the earth you stand;Nor touch the horses with too rash a hand._170Let me alone to light the world, while youEnjoy those beams which you may safely view.'He spoke in vain: the youth with active heatAnd sprightly vigour vaults into the seat;And joys to hold the reins, and fondly givesThose thanks his father with remorse receives.Meanwhile the restless horses neighed aloud,Breathing out fire, and pawing where they stood.Tethys, not knowing what had passed, gave way,And all the waste of heaven before them lay._180They spring together out, and swiftly bearThe flying youth through clouds and yielding air;With wingy speed outstrip the eastern wind,And leave the breezes of the morn behind.The youth was light, nor could he fill the seat,Or poise the chariot with its wonted weight:But as at sea the unballast vessel rides,Cast to and fro, the sport of winds and tides;So in the bounding chariot tossed on high,The youth is hurried headlong through the sky._190Soon as the steeds perceive it, they forsakeTheir stated course, and leave the beaten track.The youth was in a maze, nor did he knowWhich way to turn the reins, or where to go;Nor would the horses, had he known, obey.Then the Seven Stars first felt Apollo's rayAnd wished to dip in the forbidden sea.The folded Serpent next the frozen pole,Stiff and benumbed before, began to roll,And raged with inward heat, and threatened war,_200And shot a redder light from every star;Nay, and 'tis said, Bootes, too, that fainThou wouldst have fled, though cumbered with thy wain.The unhappy youth then, bending down his head,Saw earth and ocean far beneath him spread:His colour changed, he startled at the sight,And his eyes darkened by too great a light.Now could he wish the fiery steeds untried,His birth obscure, and his request denied:Now would he Merops for his father own,_210And quit his boasted kindred to the Sun.So fares the pilot, when his ship is tossedIn troubled seas, and all its steerage lost,He gives her to the winds, and in despairSeeks his last refuge in the gods and prayer.What could he do? his eyes, if backward cast,Find a long path he had already passed;If forward, still a longer path they find:Both he compares, and measures in his mind;And sometimes casts an eye upon the east,_220And sometimes looks on the forbidden west.The horses' names he knew not in the fright:Nor would he loose the reins, nor could he hold them tight.Now all the horrors of the heavens he spies,And monstrous shadows of prodigious size,That, decked with stars, lie scattered o'er the skies.There is a place above, where Scorpio, bentIn tail and arms, surrounds a vast extent;In a wide circuit of the heavens he shines,And fills the space of two celestial signs._230Soon as the youth beheld him, vexed with heat,Brandish his sting, and in his poison sweat,Half dead with sudden fear he dropped the reins;The horses felt them loose upon their manes,And, flying out through all the plains above,Ran uncontrolled where'er their fury drove;Rushed on the stars, and through a pathless wayOf unknown regions hurried on the day.And now above, and now below they flew,And near the earth the burning chariot drew._240The clouds disperse in fumes, the wondering MoonBeholds her brother's steeds beneath her own;The highlands smoke, cleft by the piercing rays,Or, clad with woods, in their own fuel blaze.Next o'er the plains, where ripened harvests grow,The running conflagration spreads below.But these are trivial ills; whole cities burn,And peopled kingdoms into ashes turn.The mountains kindle as the car draws near,Athos and Tmolus red with fires appear;_250Oeagrian Hæmus (then a single name)And virgin Helicon increase the flame;Taurus and Oete glare amid the sky,And Ida, spite of all her fountains, dry.Eryx, and Othrys, and Cithgeron, glow;And Rhodope, no longer clothed in snow;High Pindus, Mimas, and Parnassus sweat,And Ætna rages with redoubled heat.Even Scythia, through her hoary regions warmed,In vain with all her native frost was armed._260Covered with flames, the towering Apennine,And Caucasus, and proud Olympus, shine;And, where the long extended Alps aspire,Now stands a huge, continued range of fire.The astonished youth, where'er his eyes could turn,Beheld the universe around him burn:The world was in a blaze; nor could he bearThe sultry vapours and the scorching air,Which from below as from a furnace flowed,And now the axle-tree beneath him glowed:_270Lost in the whirling clouds, that round him broke,And white with ashes, hovering in the smoke,He flew where'er the horses drove, nor knewWhither the horses drove, or where he flew.'Twas then, they say, the swarthy Moor begunTo change his hue, and blacken in the sun.Then Libya first, of all her moisture drained,Became a barren waste, a wild of sand.The water-nymphs lament their empty urns,Boeotia, robbed of silver Dirce, mourns;_280Corinth, Pyrene's wasted spring bewails,And Argos grieves whilst Aniymone fails.The floods are drained from every distant coast,Even Tanaïs, though fixed in ice, was lost.Enraged Caicus and Lycormas roar,And Xanthus, fated to be burned once more.The famed Meeander, that unwearied straysThrough mazy windings, smokes in every maze.From his loved Babylon Euphrates flies;The big-swoln Ganges and the Danube rise_290In thickening fumes, and darken half the skies.In flames Ismenos and the Phasis rolled,And Tagus floating in his melted gold.The swans, that on Cayster often triedTheir tuneful songs, now sung their last, and died.The frighted Nile ran off, and under-groundConcealed his head, nor can it yet be found:His seven divided currents all are dry,And where they rolled seven gaping trenches lie.No more the Rhine or Rhone their course maintain,_300Nor Tiber, of his promised empire vain.The ground, deep cleft, admits the dazzling ray,And startles Pluto with the flash of day.The seas shrink in, and to the sight discloseWide, naked plains, where once their billows rose;Their rocks are all discovered, and increaseThe number of the scattered Cyclades.The fish in shoals about the bottom creep,Nor longer dares the crooked dolphin leap;Gasping for breath, the unshapen phocæ die,_310And on the boiling wave extended lie.Nereus, and Doris with her virgin train,Seek out the last recesses of the main;Beneath unfathomable depths they faint,And secret in their gloomy regions pant,Stern Neptune thrice above the waves upheldHis face, and thrice was by the flames repelled.The Earth at length, on every side embracedWith scalding seas, that floated round her waist,When now she felt the springs and rivers come,_320And crowd within the hollow of her womb.Uplifted to the heavens her blasted head,And clapped her hands upon her brows, and said;(But first, impatient of the sultry heat,Sunk deeper down, and sought a cooler seat:)'If you, great king of gods, my death approve,And I deserve it, let me die by Jove;If I must perish by the force of fire,Let me transfixed with thunderbolts expire.See, whilst I speak, my breath the vapours choke,_330(For now her face lay wrapt in clouds of smoke,)See my singed hair, behold my faded eyeAnd withered face, where heaps of cinders lie!And does the plough for this my body tear?This the reward for all the fruits I bear,Tortured with rakes, and harassed all the year?That herbs for cattle daily I renew,And food for man, and frankincense for you?But grant me guilty; what has Neptune done?Why are his waters boiling in the sun?_340The wavy empire, which by lot was given,Why does it waste, and further shrink from heaven?If I nor lie your pity can provoke,See your own heavens, the heavens begin to smoke!Should once the sparkles catch those bright abodes,Destruction seizes on the heavens and gods;Atlas becomes unequal to his freight,And almost faints beneath the glowing weight.If heaven, and earth, and sea together burn,All must again into their chaos turn._350Apply some speedy cure, prevent our fate,And succour nature, e'er it be too late.'She ceased; for, choked with vapours round her spread,Down to the deepest shades she sunk her head.Jove called to witness every power above,And even the god whose son the chariot drove,That what he acts he is compelled to do,Or universal ruin must ensue.Straight he ascends the high ethereal throne,From whence he used to dart his thunder down,_360From whence his showers and storms he used to pour,But now could meet with neither storm nor shower.Then aiming at the youth, with lifted hand,Full at his head he hurled the forky brand,In dreadful thunderings. Thus the almighty sireSuppressed the raging of the fires with fire.At once from life and from the chariot driven,The ambitious boy fell thunder-struck from heaven.The horses started with a sudden bound,And flung the reins and chariot to the ground:_370The studded harness from their necks they broke,Here fell a wheel, and here a silver spoke,Here were the beam and axle torn away;And, scattered o'er the earth, the shining fragments lay.The breathless Phaëton, with flaming hair,Shot from the chariot, like a falling star,That in a summer's evening from the topOf heaven drops down, or seems at least to drop;Till on the Po his blasted corpse was hurled,Far from his country, in the western world._380
The Latian nymphs came round him, and amazedOn the dead youth, transfixed with thunder, gazed;And, whilst yet smoking from the bolt he lay,His shattered body to a tomb convey;And o'er the tomb an epitaph devise:'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 died.'Apollo hid his face, and pined for grief,And, if the story may deserve belief,_10The space of one whole day is said to run,From morn to wonted even, 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 Clymene, enraged with grief, laments,And, as her grief inspires, her passion vents:Wild for her son, and frantic in her woes,With hair dishevelled, round the world she goes,_20To seek where'er his body might be cast;Till, on the borders of the Po, at lastThe name inscribed on the new tomb appears:The dear, dear name she bathes in flowing tears,Hangs o'er the tomb, unable 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 Phaëton in vain:_30All the long night their mournful watch they keep,And all the day stand round the tomb, and weep.Four times revolving the full moon returned;So long the mother and the daughters mourned:When now the eldest, Phaëthusa, stroveTo rest her weary limbs, but could not move;Lampetia would have helped her, but she foundHerself withheld, and rooted to the ground:A third in wild affliction, as she grieves,Would rend her hair, but fills her hands with leaves;_40One sees her thighs transformed, another viewsHer arms shot out, and branching into boughs.And now their legs and breasts and bodies stoodCrusted with bark, and hardening into wood;But still above were female heads displayed,And mouths, that called the mother to their aid.What could, alas! the weeping mother do?From this to that with eager haste she flew,And kissed her sprouting daughters as they grew.She tears the bark that to each body cleaves,_50And from their verdant fingers strips the leaves:The blood came trickling, where she tore awayThe leaves and bark: the maids were heard to say,'Forbear, mistaken parent, oh! forbear;A wounded daughter in each tree you tear;Farewell for ever.' Here the bark increased,Closed on their faces, and their words suppressed.The new-made trees in tears of amber run,Which, hardened into value by the sun,Distil for ever on the streams below:_60The limpid streams their radiant treasure show,Mixed in the sand; whence the rich drops conveyed,Shine in the dress of the bright Latian maid.
Cycnus beheld the nymphs transformed, alliedTo their dead brother on the mortal side,In friendship and affection nearer bound;He left the cities and the realms he owned,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 lessened, as he tried to speak,And issued through a long extended neck;_10His hair transforms to down, his fingers meeIn skinny films, and shape his oary feet;From both his sides the wings and feathers break;And from his mouth proceeds a blunted beak:All Cycnus now into a swan was turned,Who, still remembering how his kinsman burned,To solitary pools and lakes retires,And loves the waters as opposed to fires.Meanwhile Apollo, in a gloomy shade(The native lustre of his brows decayed)_20Indulging sorrow, sickens at the sightOf his own sunshine, and abhors the light:The hidden griefs, that in his bosom rise,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 inward griefs he pined,Now warm resentments to his grief he joined,And now renounced his office to mankind.'E'er since the birth of time,' said he, 'I've borne_30A 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 deserved not so severe a fate.'The gods stand round him, as he mourns, and prayHe would resume the conduct of the day,Nor let the world be lost in endless night:_40Jove too himself descending from his height,Excuses what had happened, and entreats,Majestically mixing prayers and threats.Prevailed upon, at length, again he tookThe harnessed steeds, that still with horror shook,And plies them with the lash, and whips them on,And, as he whips, upbraids them with his son.
The day was settled in its course; and JoveWalked the wide circuit of the heavens above,To search if any cracks or flaws were made;But all was safe: the earth he then surveyed,And cast an eye on every different coast,And every land; but on Arcadia most.Her fields he clothed, and cheered her blasted faceWith running fountains, and with springing grass.No tracks of heaven's destructive fire remain,The fields and woods revive, and nature smiles again._10But as the god walked to and fro the earth,And raised the plants, and gave the spring its birth,By chance a fair Arcadian nymph he viewed,And felt the lovely charmer in his blood.The nymph nor spun, nor dressed with artful pride;Her vest was gathered up, her hair was tied;Now in her hand a slender spear she bore,Now a light quiver on her shoulders wore;To chaste Diana from her youth inclined,The sprightly warriors of the wood she joined._20Diana too the gentle huntress loved,Nor was there one of all the nymphs that rovedO'er Mænalus, amid the maiden throng,More favoured once; but favour lasts not long.The sun now shone in all its strength, and droveThe heated virgin panting to a grove;The grove around a grateful shadow cast:She dropped her arrows, and her bow unbraced;She flung herself on the cool, grassy bed;And on the painted quiver raised her head._30Jove saw the charming huntress unprepared,Stretched on the verdant turf, without a guard.'Here I am safe,' 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,Softened his brows, and smoothed his awful look,And mildly in a female accent spoke.'How fares my girl? How went the morning chase?'_40To whom the virgin, starting from the grass,'All hail, bright deity, whom I preferTo Jove himself, though Jove himself were here.'The god was nearer than she thought, and heard,Well-pleased, himself before himself preferr'd.He then salutes her with a warm embrace,And, ere she half had told the morning chase,With love inflamed, and eager on his bliss,Smothered her words, and stopped her with a kiss;His kisses with unwonted ardour glow'd,_50Nor could Diana's shape conceal the god.The virgin did whate'er a virgin could;(Sure Juno must have pardoned, had she view'd;)With all her might against his force she strove;But how can mortal maids contend with Jove!Possessed at length of what his heart desired,Back to his heavens the exulting god retired.The lovely huntress, rising from the grass,With downcast eyes, and with a blushing faceBy shame confounded, and by fear dismay'd,_60Flew 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 trainOf quivered virgins, bounding over the plain,Called to the nymph; the nymph began to fearA second fraud, a Jove disguised in her;But, when she saw the sister nymphs, suppress'dHer rising fears, and mingled with the rest.How in the look does conscious guilt appear!_70Slowly she moved, and loitered in the rear;Nor slightly tripped, nor by the goddess ran,As once she used, the foremost of the train.Her looks were flushed, and sullen was her mien,That sure the virgin goddess (had she beenAught but a virgin) must the guilt have seen.'Tis said the nymphs saw all, and guessed aright:And now the moon had nine times lost her light,When Dian, fainting in the mid-day beams,Found a cool covert, and refreshing streams_80That in soft murmurs through the forest flow'd,And a smooth bed of shining gravel show'd.A covert so obscure, and streams so clear,The goddess praised: 'And now no spies are near,Let's strip, my gentle maids, and wash,' she cries.Pleased with the motion, every maid complies;Only the blushing huntress stood confused,And formed delays, and her delays excused;In vain excused; her fellows round her press'd,And the reluctant nymph by force undress'd._90The naked huntress all her shame reveal'd,In vain her hands the pregnant womb conceal'd;'Begone!' the goddess cries with stern disdain,'Begone! nor dare the hallowed stream to stain:'She fled, for ever banished from the train.This Juno heard, who long had watched her timeTo 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 cried,_100'It is enough! I'm fully satisfied!This boy shall stand a living mark, to proveMy 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, and dragged her on the ground.The prostrate wretch lifts up her arms in prayer;_110Her arms grow shaggy, and deformed with hair,Her nails are sharpened into pointed claws,Her hands bear half her weight, and turn to paws;Her lips, that once could tempt a god, beginTo grow distorted in an ugly grin.And, lest the supplicating brute might reachThe ears of Jove, she was deprived of speech:Her surly voice through a hoarse passage cameIn savage sounds: her mind was still the same.The furry monster fixed her eyes above,_120And heaved her new unwieldy paws to Jove,And begged his aid with inward groans; and thoughShe 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-mouthed dogs pursue,Whilst from her hounds the frighted huntress flew!How did she fear her fellow-brutes, and shunThe shaggy bear, though now herself was one!How from the sight of rugged wolves retire,_130Although 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 chanced to rouse his mother where she lay.She knew her son, and kept him in her sight,And fondly gazed: the boy was in a fright,And aimed a pointed arrow at her breast,And would have slain his mother in the beast;But Jove forbade, and snatched them through the air_140In whirlwinds up to heaven, and fixed them there:Where the new constellations nightly rise,And add a lustre to the northern skies.When Juno saw the rival in her height,Spangled with stars, and circled round with light,She sought old Ocean in his deep abodes,And Tethys; both revered among the gods.They ask what brings her there: 'Ne'er ask,' says she,'What brings me here, heaven is no place for me.You'll see, when night has covered all things o'er,_150Jove's starry bastard and triumphant whoreUsurp the heavens; you 'll see them proudly rollIn their new orbs, and brighten all the pole.And who shall now on Juno's altars wait,When those she hates grow greater by her hate?I on the nymph a brutal form impress'd,Jove to a goddess has transformed the beast;This, this was all my weak revenge could do:But let the god his chaste amours pursue,And, as he acted after Io's rape,_160Restore the adulteress to her former shape.Then may he cast his Juno off, and leadThe great Lycaon's offspring to his bed.But you, ye venerable powers, be kind,And, if my wrongs a due resentment find,Receive not in your waves their setting beams,Nor let the glaring strumpet taint your streams.'The goddess ended, and her wish was given.Back she returned in triumph up to heaven;Her gaudy peacocks drew her through the skies,_170Their tails were spotted with a thousand eyes;The eyes of Argus on their tails were ranged,At the same time the raven's colour changed.
The raven once in snowy plumes was dress'd,White as the whitest dove's unsullied breast,Fair as the guardian of the Capitol,Soft as the swan; a large and lovely fowl;His tongue, his prating tongue, had changed him quiteTo sooty blackness from the purest white.The story of his change shall here be told:In Thessaly there lived a nymph of old,Coronis named; a peerless maid she shined,Confessed the fairest of the fairer kind._10Apollo loved her, till her guilt he knew,While true she was, or whilst he thought her true.But his own bird, the raven, chanced to findThe false one with a secret rival joined.Coronis begged him to suppress the tale,But could not with repeated prayers prevail.His milk-white pinions to the god he plied;The busy daw flew with him, side by side,And by a thousand teasing questions drewThe important secret from him as they flew._20The daw gave honest counsel, though despised,And, tedious in her tattle, thus advised:'Stay, silly bird, the ill-natured task refuse,Nor be the bearer of unwelcome news.Be warned by my example: you discernWhat now I am, and what I was shall learn.My foolish honesty was all my crime;Then hear my story. Once upon a time,The two-shaped Ericthonius had his birth(Without a mother) from the teeming earth;_30Minerva nursed him, and the infant laidWithin a chest, of twining osiers made.The daughters of King Cecrops undertookTo guard the chest, commanded not to lookOn what was hid within. I stood to seeThe charge obeyed, perched on a neighbouring tree.The sisters Pandrosos and Herse keepThe strict command; Aglauros needs would peep,And saw the monstrous infant in a fright,And called her sisters to the hideous sight:_40A boy's soft shape did to the waist prevail,But the boy ended in a dragon's tail.I told the stern Minerva all that passed,But for my pains, discarded and disgraced,The frowning goddess drove me from her sight,And for her favourite chose the bird of night.Be then no tell-tale; for I think my wrongEnough to teach a bird to hold her tongue.'But you, perhaps, may think I was removed,As never by the heavenly maid beloved:_50But I was loved; ask Pallas if I lie;Though Pallas hate me now, she won't deny:For I, whom in a feathered shape you view,Was once a maid, (by heaven, the story's true,)A blooming maid, and a king's daughter too.A crowd of lovers owned my beauty's charms;My beauty was the cause of all my harms;Neptune, as on his shores I went to rove,Observed me in my walks, and fell in love.He made his courtship, he confessed his pain,_60And offered force when all his arts were vain;Swift he pursued: I ran along the strand,Till, spent and wearied on the sinking sand,I shrieked aloud, with cries I filled the airTo gods and men; nor god nor man was there:A virgin goddess heard a virgin's prayer.For, as my arms I lifted to the skies,I saw black feathers from my fingers rise;I strove to fling my garment to the ground;My garment turned to plumes, and girt me round:_70My hands to beat my naked bosom try;Nor naked bosom now nor hands had I.Lightly I tripped, nor weary as beforeSunk in the sand, but skimmed along the shore;Till, rising on my wings, I was preferredTo be the chaste Minerva's virgin bird:Preferred in vain! I now am in disgrace:Nyctimene, the owl, enjoys my place.'On her incestuous life I need not dwell,(In Lesbos still the horrid tale they tell,)_80And of her dire amours you must have heard,For which she now does penance in a bird,That, conscious of her shame, avoids the light,And loves the gloomy covering of the night;The birds, where'er she flutters, scare awayThe hooting wretch, and drive her from the day.'The raven, urged by such impertinence,Grew passionate, it seems, and took offence,And cursed the harmless daw; the daw withdrew:The raven to her injured patron flew,_90And found him out, and told the fatal truthOf false Coronis and the favoured youth.The god was wroth; the colour left his look,The wreath his head, the harp his hand forsook:His silver bow and feathered shafts he took,And lodged an arrow in the tender breast,That had so often to his own been pressed.Down fell the wounded nymph, and sadly groaned,And pulled his arrow reeking from the wound;And weltering in her blood, thus faintly cried,_100'Ah, cruel god! though I have justly died,What has, alas! my unborn infant done,That he should fall, and two expire in one?This said, in agonies she fetched her breath.The god dissolves in pity at her death;He hates the bird that made her falsehood known,And hates himself for what himself had done;The feathered shaft, that sent her to the fates,And his own hand that sent the shaft he hates.Fain would he heal the wound, and ease her pain,_110And tries the compass of his art in vain.Soon as he saw the lovely nymph expire,The pile made ready, and the kindling fire,With sighs and groans her obsequies he kept,And, if a god could weep, the god had wept.Her corpse he kissed, and heavenly incense brought,And solemnised the death himself had wrought.But, lest his offspring should her fate partake,Spite of the immortal mixture in his make,He ripped her womb, and set the child at large,_120And gave him to the centaur Chiron's charge:Then in his fury blacked the raven o'er,And bid him prate in his white plumes no more.
Old Chiron took the babe with secret joy,Proud of the charge of the celestial boy.His daughter too, whom on the sandy shoreThe nymph Chariclo to the centaur bore,With hair dishevelled on her shoulders cameTo see the child, Ocyrrhöe was her name;She knew her father's arts, and could rehearseThe depths of prophecy in sounding verse.Once, as the sacred infant she surveyed,The god was kindled in the raving maid,_10And thus she uttered her prophetic tale;'Hail, great physician of the world, all hail;Hail, mighty infant, who in years to comeShalt heal the nations and defraud the tomb;Swift be thy growth! thy triumphs unconfined!Make kingdoms thicker, and increase mankind.Thy daring art shall animate the dead,And draw the thunder on thy guilty head:Then shalt thou die; but from the dark abodeRise up victorious, and be twice a god._20And thou, my sire, not destined by thy birthTo turn to dust, and mix with common earth,How wilt thou toss, and rave, and long to die,And quit thy claim to immortality;When thou shalt feel, enraged with inward pains,The Hydra's venom rankling in thy veins'?The gods, in pity, shall contract thy date,And give thee over to the power of Fate.'Thus, entering into destiny, the maidThe secrets of offended Jove betrayed;_30More had she still to say; but now appearsOppressed with sobs and sighs, and drowned in tears.'My voice,' says she, 'is gone, my language fails;Through every limb my kindred shape prevails:Why did the god this fatal gift impart,And with prophetic raptures swell my heart!What new desires are these? I long to paceO'er flowery meadows, and to feed on grass:I hasten to a brute, a maid no more;But why, alas! am I transformed all o'er?_40My sire does half a human shape retain,And in his upper parts preserves the man.'Her tongue no more distinct complaints affords,But in shrill accents and mishapen wordsPours forth such hideous wailings, as declareThe human form confounded in the mare:Till by degrees accomplished in the beast,She neighed outright, and all the steed expressed.Her stooping body on her hands is borne,Her hands are turned to hoofs, and shod in horn;_50Her yellow tresses ruffle in a mane,And in a flowing tail she frisks her train.The mare was finished in her voice and look,And a new name from the new figure took.
Sore wept the centaur, and to Phoebus prayed;But how could Phoebus give the centaur aid?Degraded of his power by angry Jove,In Elis then a herd of beeves he drove;And wielded in his hand a staff of oak,And o'er his shoulders threw the shepherd's cloak;On seven compacted reeds he used to play,And on his rural pipe to waste the day.As once, attentive to his pipe, he played,The crafty Hermes from the god conveyed_10A drove, that separate from their fellows strayed.The theft an old insidious peasant viewed,(They called him Battus in the neighbourhood,)Hired by a wealthy Pylian prince to feedHis favourite mares, and watch the generous breed.The thievish god suspected him, and tookThe hind aside, and thus in whispers spoke:'Discover not the theft, whoe'er thou be,And take that milk-white heifer for thy fee.''Go, stranger,' cries the clown, 'securely on,_20That stone shall sooner tell;' and showed a stone.The god withdrew, but straight returned again,In speech and habit like a country swain;And cries out, 'Neighbour, hast thou seen a strayOf bullocks and of heifers pass this way?In the recovery of my cattle join,A bullock and a heifer shall be thine.'The peasant quick replies, 'You'll find 'em there,In yon dark vale:' and in the vale they were.The double bribe had his false heart beguiled:_30The god, successful in the trial, smiled;'And dost thou thus betray myself to me?Me to myself dost thou betray?' says he:Then to a touchstone turns the faithless spy,And in his name records his infamy.
This done, the god flew up on high, and passedO'er lofty Athens, by Minerva graced,And wide Munichia, whilst his eyes surveyAll the vast region that beneath him lay.'Twas now the feast, when each Athenian maidHer yearly homage to Minerva paid;In canisters, with garlands covered o'er,High on their heads their mystic gifts they bore;And now, returning in a solemn train,The troop of shining virgins filled the plain._10The god well-pleased beheld the pompous show,And saw the bright procession pass below;Then veered about, and took a wheeling flight,And hovered o'er them: as the spreading kite,That smells the slaughtered 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,_20Or as the full-orbed Phoebe, Lucifer,So much did Herse all the rest outvie,And gave a grace to the solemnity.Hermes was fired, as in the clouds he hung:So the cold bullet, that with fury slungFrom Balearic engines mounts on high,Glows in the whirl, and burns along the sky.At length he pitched upon the ground, and showedThe form divine, the features of a god.He knew their virtue o'er a female heart,_30And yet he strives to better them by art.He hangs his mantle loose, and sets to showThe golden edging on the seam below;Adjusts his flowing curls, and in his handWaves with an air the sleep-procuring wand;The glittering sandals to his feet applies,And to each heel the well-trimmed pinion ties.His ornaments with nicest art displayed,He seeks the apartment of the royal maid.The roof was all with polished ivory lined,_40That, richly mixed, in clouds of tortoise shined.Three rooms, contiguous, in a range were placed,The midmost by the beauteous Herse graced;Her virgin sisters lodged on either side.Aglauros first the approaching god descried,And as he crossed her chamber, asked his name,And what his business was, and whence he came.'I come,' replied the god, 'from heaven, to wooYour sister, and to make an aunt of you;I am the son and messenger of Jove,_50My name is Mercury, my business, love;Do you, kind damsel, take a lover's part,And gain admittance to your sister's heart.'She stared him in the face with looks amazed,As when she on Minerva's secret gazed,And asks a mighty treasure for her hire,And, till he brings it, makes the god retire.Minerva grieved to see the nymph succeed;And now remembering the late impious deed,When, disobedient to her strict command,_60She touched the chest with an unhallowed hand;In big-swoln sighs her inward rage expressed,That heaved the rising Ægis on her breast;Then sought out Envy in her dark abode,Defiled with ropy gore and clots of blood:Shut from the winds, and from the wholesome skies,In a deep vale the gloomy dungeon lies,Dismal and cold, where not a beam of lightInvades the winter, or disturbs the night.Directly to the cave her course she steered;_70Against the gates her martial lance she reared;The gates flew open, and the fiend appeared.A poisonous morsel in her teeth she chewed,And gorged the flesh of vipers for her food.Minerva loathing turned away her eye;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 fetched a groan at such a cheerful sight._80Livid and meagre were her looks, her eyeIn foul, distorted glances turned awry;A hoard of gall her inward parts possessed,And spread a greenness o'er her cankered breast;Her teeth were brown with rust; and from her tongue,In dangling drops, the stringy poison hung.She never smiles but when the wretched weep,Nor lulls her malice with a moment's sleep,Restless in spite: while watchful to destroy,She pines and sickens at another's joy;_90Foe to herself, distressing and distressed,She bears her own tormentor in her breast.The goddess gave (for she abhorred her sight)A short command: 'To Athens speed thy flight;On cursed Aglauros try thy utmost art.And fix thy rankest venoms in her heart.'This said, her spear she pushed against the ground,And mounting from it with an active bound,Flew off to heaven: the hag with eyes askewLooked up, and muttered curses as she flew;_100For sore she fretted, and began to grieveAt 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 steersHer baneful course, a mighty blast appears,Mildews and blights; the meadows are defaced,The fields, the flowers, and the whole year laid waste;On mortals next and peopled towns she falls,And breathes a burning plague among their walls,_110When Athens she beheld, for arts renowned,With peace made happy, and with plenty crowned,Scarce could the hideous fiend from tears forbear,To find out nothing that deserved a tear.The apartment now she entered, where at restAglauros lay, with gentle sleep oppressed.To execute Minerva's dire command,She stroked the virgin with her cankered hand,Then prickly thorns into her breast conveyed,That stung to madness the devoted maid;_120Her 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 placed before the dreaming virgin's viewHer sister's marriage, and her glorious fate:The imaginary bride appears in state;The bridegroom with unwonted beauty glows,For Envy magnifies whate'er she shows.Full of the dream, Aglauros pined awayIn tears all night, in darkness all the day;_130Consumed 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 passed:At length before the door herself she cast;_140And, sitting on the ground with sullen pride,A passage to the love-sick god denied.The god caressed, and for admission prayed,And soothed, in softest words, the envenomed maid.In vain he soothed; 'Begone!' the maid replies,'Or here I keep my seat, and never rise.''Then keep thy seat for ever!' cries the god,And touched the door, wide-opening to his rod.Fain would she rise, and stop him, but she foundHer trunk too heavy to forsake the ground;_150Her joints are all benumbed, her hands are pale,And marble now appears in every nail.As when a cancer in her body feeds,And gradual death from limb to limb proceeds;So does the dullness to each vital partSpread by degrees, and creeps into her heart;Till, hardening everywhere, and speechless grown,She sits unmoved, and freezes to a stone.But still her envious hue and sullen mienAre in the sedentary figure seen._160
When now the god his fury had allayed,And taken vengeance of the stubborn maid,From where the bright Athenian turrets riseHe mounts aloft, and reascends the skies.Jove saw him enter the sublime abodes,And, as he mixed among the crowd of gods,Beckoned him out, and drew him from the rest,And in soft whispers thus his will expressed.'My trusty Hermes, by whose ready aidThy sire's commands are through the world conveyed,_10Resume thy wings, exert their utmost force,And to the walls of Sidon speed they course;There find a herd of heifers wandering o'erThe neighbouring hill, and drive 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'erA neighbouring hill, and drove them to the shore;Where the king's daughter, with a lovely trainOf fellow-nymphs, was sporting on the plain._20The 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,Frisked in a bull, and bellowed o'er the plain.Large rolls of fat about his shoulders clung,And from his neck the double dewlap hung.His skin was whiter than the snow that liesUnsullied by the breath of southern skies;_30Small shining horns on his curled forehead stand,As turned and polished by the workman's hand;His eye-balls rolled, not formidably bright,But gazed and languished with a gentle light.His every look was peaceful, and expressedThe softness of the lover in the beast.Agenor's royal daughter, as she playedAmong the fields, the milk-white bull surveyed,And viewed his spotless body with delight,And at a distance kept him in her sight._40At length she plucked the rising flowers, and fedThe gentle beast, and fondly stroked his head.He stood well pleased to touch the charming fair,But hardly could confine his pleasure there.And now he wantons o'er the neighbouring strand,Now rolls his body on the yellow sand;And now, perceiving all her fears decayed,Comes tossing forward to the royal maid;Gives her his breast to stroke, and downward turnsHis grisly brow, and gently stoops his horns._50In flowery wreaths the royal virgin dressedHis bending horns, and kindly clapped his breast.Till now grown wanton, and devoid of fear,Not knowing that she pressed the Thunderer,She placed herself upon his back, and rodeO'er fields and meadows, seated on the god.He gently marched along, and by degreesLeft the dry meadow, and approached the seas;Where now he dips his hoofs and wets his thighs,Now plunges in, and carries off the prize._60The frighted nymph looks backward on the shore,And hears the tumbling billows round her roar;But still she holds him fast: one hand is borneUpon his back, the other grasps a horn:Her train of ruffling garments flies behind,Swells in the air and hovers in the wind.Through storms and tempests he the virgin bore,And lands her safe on the Dictean shore;Where now, in his divinest form arrayed,In his true shape he captivates the maid;_70Who gazes on him, and with wondering eyesBeholds the new majestic figure rise,His glowing features, and celestial light,And all the god discovered to her sight.
When now Agenor had his daughter lost,He sent his son to search on every coast;And sternly bid him to his arms restoreThe darling maid, or see his face no more,But live an exile in a foreign clime:Thus was the father pious to a crime.The restless youth searched all the world around;But how can Jove in his amours be found?When tired at length with unsuccessful toil,To shun his angry sire and native soil,_10He goes a suppliant to the Delphic dome;There asks the god what new-appointed homeShould end his wanderings and his toils relieve.The Delphic oracles this answer give:'Behold among the fields a lonely cow,Unworn with yokes, unbroken to the plough;Mark well the place where first she lays her down,There measure out thy walls, and build thy town,And from thy guide, Boetia call the land,In which the destined walls and town shall stand.'_20No sooner had he left the dark abode,Big with the promise of the Delphic god,When in the fields the fatal cow he viewed,Nor galled with yokes, nor worn with servitude:Her gently at a distance he pursued;And, as he walked aloof, in silence prayedTo the great power whose counsels he obeyed.Her way through flowery Panope she took,And now, Cephisus, crossed thy silver brook;When to the heavens her spacious front she raised,_30And bellowed thrice, then backward turning, gazedOn those behind, till on the destined placeShe stooped, and couched amid the rising grass.Cadmus salutes the soil, and gladly hailsThe new-found mountains, and the nameless vales,And thanks the gods, and turns about his eyeTo see his new dominions round him lie;Then sends his servants to a neighbouring groveFor living streams, a sacrifice to Jove.O'er the wide plain there rose a shady wood_40Of aged trees; in its dark bosom stoodA bushy thicket, pathless and unworn,O'errun with brambles, and perplexed with thorn:Amidst the brake a hollow den was found,With rocks and shelving arches vaulted round.Deep in the dreary den, concealed from day,Sacred to Mars, a mighty dragon lay,Bloated with poison to a monstrous size;Fire broke in flashes when he glanced his eyes;His towering crest was glorious to behold,_50His shoulders and his sides were scaled with gold;Three tongues he brandished when he charged his foes;His teeth stood jagy 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 rouse 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 tongues, and rolls his glaring eyes._60The Tyrians drop their vessels in their fright,All pale and trembling at the hideous sightSpire above spire upreared in air he stood,And gazing round him, overlooked the wood:Then floating on the ground, in circles rolled;Then leaped 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,_70In 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 devoured; 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 noonday sky;When, anxious for his friends, and filled with cares,To search the woods the impatient chief prepares.A lion's hide around his loins he wore,_80The well-poised javelin to the field he bore,Inured to blood, the far-destroying dart,And, the best weapon, an undaunted heart.Soon as the youth approached the fatal place,He saw his servants breathless on the grass;The scaly foe amid their corps he viewed,Basking at ease, and feasting in their blood,'Such friends,' he cries, 'deserved a longer date;But Cadmus will revenge, or share their fate.'Then heaved a stone, and rising to the throw_90He 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 the unwieldy rock avails,Rebounding harmless from the plaited scales,That, firmly joined, preserved him from a wound,With native armour crusted all around. 97The pointed javelin more successful flew,Which at his back the raging warrior threw;Amid the plaited scales it took its course,_100And in the spinal marrow spent its force.The monster hissed aloud, and raged in vain,And writhed his body to and fro with pain;And bit the spear, and wrenched 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;Churned in his teeth the foamy venom rose,Whilst from his mouth a blast of vapours flows,Such as the infernal Stygian waters cast;_110The plants around him wither in the blast.Now in a maze of rings he lies enrolled,Now all unravelled, 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 spoilSustained the shock, then forced 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,_120Till blood and venom all the point besmear.But still the hurt he yet received was slight;For, whilst the champion with redoubled mightStrikes home the javelin, his retiring foeShrinks from the wound, and disappoints the blow.The dauntless hero still pursues his stroke,And presses forward, till a knotty oakRetards his foe, and stops him in the rear;Full in his throat he plunged the fatal spear,That in the extended neck a passage found,_130And pierced the solid timber through the wound.Fixed to the reeling trunk, with many a strokeOf his huge tail, he lashed the sturdy oak;Till spent with toil, and labouring hard for breath,He now lay twisting in the pangs of death.Cadmus beheld him wallow in a floodOf 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,_140Insulting man! what thou thyself shalt be?'Astonished at the voice, he stood amazed,And all around with inward horror gazed:When Pallas, swift descending from the skies,Pallas, the guardian of the bold and wise,Bids him plough up the field, and scatter roundThe dragon's teeth o'er all the furrowed ground;Then tells the youth how to his wondering eyesEmbattled armies from the field should rise.He sows the teeth at Pallas's command,_150And flings the future people from his hand.The clods grow warm, and crumble where he sows;And now the pointed spears advance in rows;Now nodding plumes appear, and shining crests,Now the broad shoulders and the rising breasts:O'er all the field the breathing harvest swarms,A growing host, a crop of men and arms.So through the parting stage a figure rearsIts body up, and limb by limb appearsBy just degrees; till all the man arise,_160And in his full proportion strikes the eyes.Cadmus surprised, and startled at the sightOf his new foes, prepared himself for fight:When one cried out, 'Forbear, fond man, forbearTo mingle in a blind, promiscuous war.'This said, he struck his brother to the ground,Himself expiring by another's wound;Nor did the third his conquest long survive,Dying ere scarce he had begun to live.The dire example ran through all the field,_170Till heaps of brothers were by brothers killed;The furrows swam in blood: and only fiveOf all the vast increase were left alive.Echion one, at Pallas's command,Let fall the guiltless weapon from his hand;And with the rest a peaceful treaty makes,Whom Cadmus as his friends and partners takes:So founds a city on the promised earth,And gives his new Boeotian empire birth.Here Cadmus reigned; and now one would have guessed_180The royal founder in his exile blessed:Long did he live within his new abodes,Allied 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,Can be concluded blessed before he die.Actæon was the first of all his race,Who grieved his grandsire in his borrowed face;Condemned by stern Diana to bemoan_190The branching horns, and visage not his own;To shun his once-loved 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?