THE

MISCELLANEOUS

WORKS

OF

Mr. JOHN GAY.

VOLUME the FOURTH.

LONDON.

Printed for JOHN BELL, near Exeter Exchange
in the STRAND, and CHRISTOPHER
ETHERINGTON, at YORK.

M DCC LXXIII.

4 ACHELOUS and HERCULES.

the Possibility of such Changes, he afferts that he has him-
self the Power of varying his Form within certain Limi-
tations, among which he mentions his having loft one of
his Horns when in the Shape of a Bull; and this gives
Rife to the following Story.

T
HESEUS requefts the God to tell his woes,
Whence his maim'd brow, and whence his groans aroſe ?
When thus the *Calydonian* Stream reply'd
With twining reeds his careleſs treſſes ty'd :
Ungrateful is the tale ; for who can bear,
When conquer'd, to rehearſe the ſhameful war ?
Yet I'll the melancholy ſtory trace ;
So great a Conqu'ror ſoftens the diſgrace :
Nor was it ſtill ſo mean the prize to yield,
As great and glorious to dispute the field.

10

Perhaps you've heard of Deianira's name,
For all the country ſpoke her beauty's fame.
Long was the nymph by num'rous ſuitors woo'd,
Each with addreſs his envy'd hopes purſu'd :
I join'd the loving band ; to gain the fair,
Reveal'd my paſſion to her father's ear.

15

Their

ACHELOUS and HERCULUS.

Their vain pretenfions all the reft reſign,
*Alcides* only ſtrove to equal mine;
He boafts his birth from *Jove*, recounts his ſpoils,
His ſtep-dame's hate ſubdu'd, and ſinifh'd toils.

Can mortals then, (faid I) with gods compare?
Behold a god; mine is the watry care:
Through your wide realms I take my mazy way,
Branch into ſtreams, and o'er the region ſtray:
No foreign gueſt your daughter's charms adores,
But one who rifes in your native ſhores.
Let not his puniſhment your pity move;
Is *Juno*'s hate an argument for love?
Though you your life from fair *Alcmena* drew,
*Jove*'s a feign'd father, or by fraud a true.
Choose then; confefs thy mother's honour loft,
Or thy deſcent from *Jove* no longer boaſt.

While thus I ſpoke, he look'd with ſtern diſdain,
Nor could the fallies of his wrath reſtrain,
Which thus broke forth. This arm decides our right:
Vanquifh in words: be mine the prize in fight!

Bold he rufh'd on. My honour to maintain,
I fling my verdant garments on the plain,

B 3

My

6. ACHELOUS and HERCULES.

My arms stretch forth, my pliant limbs prepare,
And with bent hands expect the furious war.

40

O'er my sleek skin now gather'd duft he throws,
And yellow sand his mighty muscles ftrows.

Oft he my neck, and nimble legs affails,
He seems to grafp me, but as often fails,

Each part he now invades with eager hand;

45

Safe in my bulk, immoveable I stand.

So when loud ftorms break high, and foam and roar

Against some mole that stretches from the shore;

The firm foundation lafting tempefts braves,

Defies the warring winds, and driving waves.

50

Awhile we breathe, then forward rush amain,
Renew the combat, and our ground maintain;

Foot ftrove with foot, I prone extend my breaſt,

Hands war with hands, and forehead forehead preſs'd.

Thus have I seen two furious bulls engage,
Inflam'd with equal love, and equal rage;

55

Each claims the faireſt heifer of the grove,
And conquelt only can decide their love:

The trembling herds survey the fight from far,

'Till victory decides th' important war.

60

Three

ACHELOUS and HERCULES.

Three times in vain he ftrove my joints to wreft;
To force my hold, and throw me from his breaft;
The fourth he broke my gripe, that clafp'd him round,
Then with new force he ftretch'd me on the ground;
Cloſe to my back the mighty burden clung,
As if a mountain o'er my limbs were flung.

Believe my tale; nor do I, boaſtful, aim
By feign'd narration to extol my fame.
No sooner from his graſp I freedom get,
Unlock my arms, that flow'd with trickling ſweat,
But quick he feiz'd me, and renew'd the ſtrife,
As my exhaufted boſom pants for life :
My neck he gripes, my knee to earth he ſtrains;
I fall, and bite the ſand with ſhame, and pains.

O'er-match'd in ſtrength, to wiles, and arts I take,
And flip his hold, in form of ſpeckled ſnake;
Who, when I wreath'd in ſpires my body round,
Or ſhew'd my forky tongue with hifſing ſound,
Smiles at my threats. Such foes my cradle knew,
He cries, dire ſnakes my infant hand o'erthrew;
A dragon's form might other conqueſts gain,
To war with me you take that ſhape in vain.

7

65

70

75

80

Art

8 A CHELOUS and H ERCULES.

Art thou proportion'd to the Hydra's length,
Who by his wounds receiv'd augmented strength ?
He rais'd a hundred hifting heads in air;
When one I Iopp'd, up-fprung a dreadful pair.
By his wounds fertile, and with flaughter ftrong,
Singly I quell'd him, and ftrech'd dead along.
What canft thou do, a form precarious, prone,
To roufe my rage with terrors not thy own ?
He faid; and round my neck his hands he caft,
And with his ftraining fingers wrung me faft :
My throat he tortur'd, clofe as pincers clafp,
In vain I ftrove to loofe the forceful grafp.

85

90

Thus vanquifh'd too, a third form ftill 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 ftruck my horn into the sand,
And fell'd my bulk along the duſty land.
Nor yet his fury cool'd; 'twixt rage and ſcorn,
From my maim'd front he tore the ftubborn horn;
This, heap'd with flow'rs, and fruits, the Naiads bear,
Sacred to plenty, and the bounteous year,

100

He

ACHELOUS and HERCULES.

9

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 forst'd,
And ruddy apples for the second board.

85

Now morn begins to dawn, the fun's bright fire
Gilds the high mountains, and the youths retire;
Nor stay'd they, 'till the troubled stream subfides,
And in its bounds with peaceful current glides.
But Achelous in his oozy bed
Deep hides his brow deform'd, and rustic head:
No real wound the victor's triumph shew'd,
But his loft honours griev'd the watry god;
Yet ev'n that lofs the willow's leaves o'erspread,
And verdant reeds, in garlands, bind his head.

90

95

110

115

THE

100

oar,

H

THE
DEATH
OF
NESSUS,
THE
CENTAUR.

THIS virgin too, thy love, O Neffus, found,
To her alone you owe the fatal wound.
As the strong son of Jove his bride conveys,
Where his paternal lands their bulwarks raife;
Where from her flopy urn Evenus pours
Her rapid current, fwell'd by wintry flow'rs,
He came. The frequent eddies whirl'd the tide,
And the deep rolling waves all pafs deny'd
As for himfelf, he ftood unmov'd by fears,
For now his bridal charge employ'd his cares.
The ftrong-limb'd Neffus thus officious cry'd,
(For he the fhallows of the ftream had try'd)

Swim

The DEATH of NESSUS.

Swim thou, *Alcides*, all thy strength prepare,
On yonder bank I'll lodge thy nuptial care.

Th' *Aonian* chief to *Neffus* trufts his wife,
All pale, and trembling for her hero's life:
Cloth'd as he ftood in the fierce lion's hide,
The laden quiver o'er his shoulder ty'd,
(For crofs the fstream his bow and club were caft)
Swift he plung'd in; thefe billows fhall be pafs'd.

He faid, nor fought where smoother waters glide
But Item'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 ears.

*Neffus*, to thee I call (aloud he cries)

Vain is thy truſt in flight, be timely wife :
Thou monſter double-ſhap'd, my right fet free :
If thou no rev'rence owe my fame and me,
Yet kindred ſhould thy lawleſs luſt deny.

Think not, perfidious wretch, from me to fly,
Tho' wing'd with horſe's ſpeed; wounds ſhall purſue :

Swift as his words the fatal arrow flew :
The Centaur's back admits the feather'd wood,
And thro' his breaſt the barbed weapon ſtood;

Which

12

The DEATH of NESSUS.

35

Which when, in anguish, thro' the flesh he tore,
From both the wounds guish'd forth the spumy gore
Mix'd with Lærnean venom; this he took,
Nor dire revenge his dying breast forfook.
His garment, in the reeking purple dy'd,
To rouse love's passion, he presests the bride.

THE

14 The DEATH of HERCULES.

Her love believes the tale; the truth she fears
Of his new passion, and gives way to tears.
The flowing tears diffus'd her wretched grief,
Why seek I thus, from flowing eyes, relief?
She cries; indulge not thus these fruitless Cares,
The harlot will but triumph in thy tears:
Let something be resolved, 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 tho' ally'd to Meleager's fame,
I boast the honours of a fitter's name?
My wrongs, perhaps, now urge me to purfue
Some desp'rate deed, by which the world shall view
How far revenge, and woman's rage can rive,
When welt'ring in her blood the harlot dies.

Thus various passions rul'd by turns her breast.
She now resolves to fend the fatal veft,
Dy'd with Lernæan gore, whose pow'r might move
His foul anew, and roufe declining love.
Nor knew she what her sudden rage beftows,
When she to Lychas trufts her future woes;

The DEATH of HERCULES.

With soft endearments she the boy commands
To bear the garment to her husband's hands.

Th' unwitting hero takes the gift in haſte,
And o'er his shoulders Lerna's poifon caſt,
As firſt the fire with frankincenſe he ſtrows,
And utters to the gods his holy vows;
And on the marble altar's poſiſh'd frame
Pours forth the grapy ſtream; the rſing flame
Sudden diſſolves the fubtle pois'nous juice,
Which taints his blood, and all his nerves bedews.
With wonted fortitude he bore the ſmart,
And not a groan confefſ'd his burning heart.
At length his patience was ſubdu'd by pain,
He rends the ſacred altar from the plain;
O Ete'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 and huge bones he bares,
(A ghaſtly fight!) or raging with his pain,
To rend the ſticking plague he tugs in vain.

As the red iron hittes in the flood,
So boils the venom in his curdling blood.

C 2.

Now

16 The DEATH of HERCULES.

Now with the greedy flame his entrails glow,
And livid sweats down all his 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 thy revenge, dread emprefs of the skies;
Sate with my death the rancour of thy heart,
Look down with pleafure, and enjoy my ſmart.
Or, if e'er pity mov'd a hoſtile breaſt,
(For here I ſtand thy enemy proſeſt)

Take hence this hateful life, with tortures torn,
Inur'd to trouble, and to labours born.
Death is the gift moſt welcome to my woe,
And ſuch a gift a ſtep-dame may beſtow !

Was it for this *Bufiris* was ſubdu'd,
Whofe barb'rous temples reek'd with ſtrangers' blood ?
Preſs'd in theſe arms his fate *Antæus* found,
Nor gain'd recruited vigour from the ground.

Did I not triple-form'd Geryon fell ?

Or did I fear the triple dog of hell ?

Did not theſe hands the bull's arm'd forehead hold ?

Are not our mighty toils in Elis told ?

The DEATH of HERCULES.

17

Did not *Stymphalian* lakes proclaim my fame?
And fair *Parthenian* woods refound my name?
Who feiz'd the golden belt of *Thermodon*?
And who the dragon-guarded apples won?
Could the fierce Centaur's strength my force withstand,
Or the fell boar that spoil'd th' *Arcadian* land?
Did not these arms the *Hydra's* rage subdue,
Who from his wounds to double fury grew?
What if the *Thracian* horses, fat with gore,
Who human bodies in their mangers tore,
I saw, and with their barb'rous lord o'erthrew?
What if these hands *Nemæa's* lion flew?

80

85

Did not this neck the heav'nly globe suftain?—
The female partner of the thund'rer's reign
Fatigu'd, at length sufpends her harsh commands,
Yet no fatigue hath slack'd these valiant hands.
But now new plagues purfue me, neither force,
Nor arms, nor darts can stop their raging courfe.
Devouring flame through my rack'd entrails strays,
And on my lungs and shrivel'd muscles preys;
Yet still *Euryftheus* breathes the vital air!
What mortal now shall seek the gods with pray'r?

90

95

C 3

THE

The TRANSFORMATION of LYCHAS

19

Had shunn'd his wrath. Now grief renew'd his pain,
His madneſs chaf'd, and thus he raves again.

ON
S

Lychas, to thee alone my fate I owe,
Who bore the gift, the cauſe of all my woe.

15

The youth all pale with ſhiv'ring fear was ſtung,
And vain excuſes falter'd on his tongue.

Alcides ſnatch'd him, as with ſuppliant face

He ſtrove to clasp his knees, and beg for grace :
He toſs'd him o'er his head with airy courſe,
And hurl'd with more than with an engine's force ;
Far o'er the Eubæan main aloft he flies,
And hardens by degrees amid the ſkies :

20

So ſhow'ry drops, when chilly tempeſts blow,
Thicken at firſt, then whiten into ſnow ;

25

In Balls congeal'd the rolling fleeces bound,
In ſolid hail reſult upon the ground.

Thus, whirl'd with nervous force thro' diffant air,

The purple tide forſook his veins with fear ;

30

All moisture left his limbs. Transform'd to ſtone,
In ancient days the craggy flint was known :

10

Still in th' Eubæan waves his front he rears,

Still the ſmall rock in human form appears,

And ſtill the name of hapleſs Lychas bears.

35

T H E

Had

THE
APOTHEOSIS
OF
HERCULES.

BUT now the hero of immortal birth
Fells O'Ete's forefts on the groaning earth;
A pile he builds; to Philoctetes' care
He leaves his deathful instruments of war;
To him commits thofe arrows, which again.
Muft see the bulwarks of the Trojan reign.
The fon of Pæan lights the lofty pyre,
High round the ftructure climbs the greedy fire;
Plac'd on the top, thy nervous shoulders spread
With the Nemæan spoils, thy carelefs head :
Rais'd on the knotty club, with look divine;
Here thou dread hero, of cæleftial line,
Waft ſtretch'd at eafe; as when a chearful gueſt,
Wine crown'd thy bowls, and flow'rs thy temples dreft.
Now on all fides the potent flames afpire,
And crackle round thofe limbs that mock the fire.

Afud.

The APOTHEOSIS of HERCULES.

A sudden tremor feiz'd th' immortal hoft,
Who thought the world's profest defender loft.

This when the Thund'rer faw, with smiles he cries,
'Tis from your fears, ye gods, my pleafures rife;
Joy fwells my breaſt, that my all-ruling hand
O'er fuch a grateful people boafs command,
That you my ſuff'ring progeny would aid;
Tho' to his deeds this juſt reſpect be paid,
Me you've oblig'd. Be all your fears forborn,
Th' OEtean Fires do thou, great hero, ſcorn.
Who vanquifh'd all things, ſhall ſubdue the flame.
That part alone of groſs maternal frame
Fire ſhall devour; while what from me he drew
Shall live immortal, and its force ſubdue;
That, when he's dead, I'll raife to realms above;
May all the pow'rs the righteous act approve.
If any god diffent, and judge too great
The facred honours of the heav'nly feat,
Ev'n he ſhall own his deeds defer ve the ſky
Ev'n he, reluctant, ſhall at length comply.
Th' affembled pow'rs affent. No frown 'till now
Had mark'd with paſſion vengeful Juno's brow.

Meanwhile

22 The APOTHEOSIS of HERCULES.

Meanwhile whate'er was in the pow'r of flame
Was all confum'd, his body's nervous frame
No more was known; — of human form bereft,
Th' eternal part of Jove alone was left.

As an old serpent cafts his fcaly veft,
Wreathes in the fun, in youthful glory dreft;
So when *Alcides* mortal mould reſign'd,
His better part enlarg'd, and grew refin'd,
Auguſt his viſage ſhone; almighty Jove
In his ſwift carr his honour'd offſpring drove;
High o'er the hollow clouds the courſers fly,
And lodge the hero in the ſtarry ſky.

24 The TRANSFORMATION of GALANTHIS.

O may the gods protect thee, in that hour,
When midft thy throes, thou call'ft th' *Ilithyan* pow'r!
May no delays prolong thy racking pain,
As when I fu'd for *Juno's* aid in vain.
When now *Alcides'* mighty birth drew nigh,
And the tenth sign roll'd forward on the sky,
My womb extends with fuch a mighty load,
As *Jove* the parent of the burden shew'd.
I could no more th' increafing ſmart ſuftain :
My horror kindles to recount the pain ;
Cold chills my limbs while I the tale purſue,
And now methinks I feel my pangs anew.
Sev'n days and nights admidft inceſſant throes,
Fatigu'd with ills I lay, nor knew ſepſe ;
When lifting high my hands, in ſhrieks I pray'd,
Implor'd the gods, and call'd *Lucina's* aid.

She came, but prejudic'd, to give my fate
A sacrifice to vengeful *Juno's* hate.
She hears the groaning anguifh of my fits,
And on the altar at my door ſhe fits,
O'er her left knee her croſſing leg ſhe caſt,
Then knits her fingers cloſe, and wrings them faſt :

This

25

THIS.

ow'r!

This stay'd the birth ; in mutt'ring verse she pray'd,
The mutt'ring verse th' unfinifh'd birth delay'd.

Now with fierce struggles, raging with my pain,
At Jove's ingratitude I rave in vain.

How did I wifh for death ! such groans I sent,
As might have made the flinty heart relent.

Now the Cadmeian matrons round me prefs,
Offer their vows, and feek to bring redrefs.

Among the Theban dames Galanthis stands,
Strong-limb'd, red-hair'd, and juft to my commands :
She firft perceiv'd that all thefe racking woes
From the perſifting hate of Juno roſe.

As here and there she pafs'd, by chance she fees
The feated goddeſs; on her close-preſs'd knees,
Her faſt-knit hands ſhe leans; with chearful voice

Galanthis cries, Who'er thou art, rejoice,
Congratulate the dame, ſhe lies at reſt,

At length the gods Alcmena's womb have bleft.

Swif't from her ſeat the ſtartled goddeſs ſprings,
No more conceal'd, her hands abroad ſhe flings;
The charm unloos'd, the birth my pangs reliev'd;
Galanthis' laughter vex'd the pow'r deceiv'd.

Fame fays, the goddeſs dragg'd the laughing maid
Faſt by the hair; in vain her force eſtay'd,

D

35

40

45

50

55

Her

d,

aſt :

T

26 The TRANSFORMATION of GALANTHIS.

Her grov'ling body from the ground to rear;
Chang'd to fore-feet her shrinking arms appear :
Her hairy back her former hue retains,
The form alone is loft; her strength remains;
Who, since the lye did from her mouth proceed,
Shall from her pregnant mouth bring forth her breed;
Nor shall she quit her long-frequented home,
But haunt thofe houfes where she lov'd to roam.

66

THE

28

IOLAÜS restored to YOUTH.

Grief too ftream'd down her cheeks; soon forrow flies,
And rifing joy the trickling moisture dries,
Lo Iolaüs stands before their eyes.

A youth he ftood; and the soft down began
O'er his smooth chin to spread, and promise man.
Hebe submitted to her hufband's pray'rs,
Inftill'd new vigour, and reftor'd his years..

5

THE

THE
PROPHECY
OF
THEMIS.

NOW from her lips a solemn oath had passed,
That Iolaüs this gift alone should have taken,
Had not just Themis thus maturely said.

(Which check'd her vow and aw'd the blooming maid)

Thebes is embroil'd in war. Capaneus stands

Invincible, but by the thund'rer's hands

Ambition shall the guilty * brothers fire,

Both rush to mutual wounds, and both expire.

The reeling earth shall ope her gloomy womb,

Where the † yet breathing bard shall find his tomb. — 10

The † son shall bathe his hands in parents' blood,

And in one act be both unjust and good.

D 3

OF

* Eteocles and Polynices. † Amphíaraus. ‡ Alemdon.

30

The PROPHECY of THEMIS:

Of home and fenfe depriv'd, where'er he flies,
The furies and his mother's ghoft he spies.
His wife the fatal bracelet shall implore,
And Phegeus ftain his fword in kindred gore.
Callirhoe shall then with fuppliant pray'r
Prevail on Jupiter's relenting ear.

Jove shall with youth her infant fons infpire,
And bid their bofoins glow with manly fire.

20

THE

The DEBATE of the GODS.

32

—Is any rev'rence to our prefence giv’n ?
Then why this discord ’mong the pow’rs of heav’n?
Who can the fettled will of Fate fubdue?
’Twas by the Fates that Iolaüs knew
A second youth. The Fates determin’d doom
Shall give Callirhöe’s race a youthful bloom.
Arms nor ambition can this pow’r obtain;
Quell your deſires; ev’n Me the Fates refrain.
Could I their will controll, no rolling years—
Had Æacus bent down with filver hairs;
Then Rhadamanthus ſtill had youth poffeſs’d,
And Minos with eternal bloom been bleſs’d.

Jove’s words the synod mov’d; the pow’rs give o’er,
And urge in vain unjuſt complaint no more.
Since Rhadamanthus’ veins now flowly flow’d,
And Æacus, and Minos bore the load;
Minos, who in the flow’r of youth, and fame,
Made mighty nations tremble at his name,
Inſirm with age, the proud Miletus fears,
Vain of his birth, and in the ſtrength of years;
And now, regarding all his realms as loſt,
He durſt not force him from his native coaſt.

But

The DEBATE of the GODS.

33

But you by choice, *Miletus*, fled his reign,

35

And your swift vessel plow'd th' *Ægean* main;

On *Afatic* shores a town you frame,

Which still is honour'd with the founder's name.

Here you *Cyanée* knew, the beauteous maid,

As on her father's winding banks she stray'd :

*Caunus* and *Byblis* hence their lineage trace,

The double offspring of your warm embrace.

40

THE
STORY
OF
ARACHNE,

From the beginning of the Sixth Book of
OVID's METAMORPHOSES.

ARGUMENT.

PALLAS visiting the Mufes on their hill to see the
fountain Hippocrene, is by them informed how the
Pierides were changed into chattering pies for rival-
ling the nine fifters in song. — This stimulating the
Goddeſs to take vengeance on Arachne the daughter
of Idmon, who defy'd her in her own art, gives
rise to the following ſtory.

PALLAS, attentive heard the Mufes ſong,
Pleas'd that so well they had reveng'd their wrong:

Reflecting.

The STORY of ARACHNE.

35

Reflecting thus,—A vulgar foul can praise,
My fame let glorious emulation raife :

Swift vengeance shall purfue th' audacious pride
That dares my sacred Deity deride.

Revenge the Goddeſs in her breast revolves,
And ſtrait the bold *Arachne's* fate resolves.

Her haughty mind to Heav'n diſdain'd to bend,
And durſt with *Pallas* in her art contend.

No famous town ſhe boafts, or noble name;
But to her skilful hand owes all her fame;

*Idmon* her father on his trade rely'd,
And thirſty wool in purple juices dy'd;

Her mother, whom the ſhades of death confine,
Was, like her hufband, born of vulgar line.

At ſmall *Hypæpe* though ſhe did refide,
Yet induſtry proclaim'd what birth deny'd :

All *Lydia* to her name due honour pays,
And ev'ry city ſpeaks *Arachne's* praise.

Nymphs of *Timolus* quit their ſhady woods,
Nymphs of *Paclolus* leave their golden floods,
And oft with pleafure round her gazing ſtand,
Admire her work, and praise her artful hand :

They view'd each motion, with new wonder ſeiz'd; 25
More than the work her graceful manner pleas'd.

Whether

36 The STORY of ARACHNE.

Whether raw wool in its firſt orbs ſhe wound,
Or with ſwift fingers twirl'd the ſpindle round,
Whether ſhe pick'd with care the knotty piece,
Or comb'd like ſtreaky clouds the ſtretching fleece,
Whether her needle play'd the pencil's part;
"Twas plain from Pallas ſhe deriv'd her art.
But ſhe unable to ſuftain her pride,
The very miſtrefs of her art defy'd.—

Pallas obſcures her bright cœleftial grace,
And takes an old decrepit beldame's face.
Her head is ſcatter'd o'er with filver hairs,
Which ſeems to bend beneath a load of years.
Her trembling hand, emboſs'd with livid veins,
On truſty ſtaff her feeble limbs ſuftains.

She thus accoſts the nymph: “Be timely wife,
“Do not the wholeſome words of age deſpife,
“For in the hoary head experience lies:
“On earth contend the greatest name to gain,
“To Pallas yield;—with Heav'n you ſtrive in vain.” 45

Contempt contracts her brow, her paſſions rife,
Wrath and diſdain inflame her rolling eyes:

At

The STORY of ARACHNE.

37

At once the tangling thread away she throws,
And scarce can curb her threatening hands from blows.

“ Worn out with age, and by difeafe declin’d,
  “ (She cries) thy carcaſe has ſurviv’d thy mind ;

50

“ These lectures might thy ſervile daughters move,

“ And wary doſtrines for thy nieces prove

“ My counsel’s from myſelf, my will commands,

“ And my firſt ſolution always ſtands :

55

“ Let her contend; or does her fear impart

“ That conquelt waits on my ſuperior art?”

The goddeſs ſtrait throws off her old diſguife,
And heav’nly beauty ſparkles in her eyes,

A youthful bloom fills up each wrinkled trace,
And Pallas ſmiles with ev’ry wonted grace.

60

The nymphs ſurpriz’d the deity adore,
And Lydian dames confest her matchleſs pow’r ;

The rival maid alone unmov’d remains,

Yet a ſwift bluſh her guilty feature ſtains ;

65

In her unwilling cheek the crimſon glows,
And her check’d pride a ſhort confusion knows.

So when Aurora firſt unveils her eyes,

A purple dawn inveſts the bluſhing ſkies ;

But ſoon bright Phæbus gains th’ horizon’s height,

70

And gilds the hemisphere with ſpreading light.

VOL. IV.

E

Desire

38

The STORY of ARACHNE.

Defire of conqueſt ſways the giddy maid,
To certain ruin by vain hopes betray'd,
The goddeſs with her ſtubborn will comply'd,
And deign'd by trial to convince her pride.
Both take their ſtations, and the piece prepare,
And order ev'ry ſlender thread with care;
The web inwraps the beam; the reed divides,
While through the wid'ning ſpace the ſhuttle glides,
Which their ſwift hands receive; then pois'd with lead,
The ſwinging weight ſtrikes cloſe th' inferted thread.
They gird their flowing garments round the waſte,
And ply their feet and arms with dext'rous haſte.

Here each inweaves the richeſt *Tyrian* dye,
There fainter ſhades in soften'd order lye;
Such various mixtures in the texture ſhine,
Set off the work, and brighten each deſign:
As when the ſun his piercing rays extends,
When from thin clouds ſome drifling ſhow'r deſcends,
We see the ſpacious humid arch appear,
90
Whoſe tranſient colours paint the ſplendid air:
By ſuch degrees the deep'ning ſhadows rife
As pleafingly deceive our dazzled eyes;
And though the ſame th' adjoining colour ſeems,
Yet hues of diff'rent natures dye th' extremes.
95

Here

The STORY of ARACHNE.

Here height'ning gold they 'midft the woof difpofe,
And in the web this antique ſtory roſe.

Pallas the lofty mount of Mars deſigns,
Cœleſtial judgment guides th'unerring lines;
Here, in juſt view, the *Athenian* ſtructures ſtand,
And there, the Gods contend to name the land;
Twelve deities ſhe frames with ſtately mien,
And in the midft ſuperior Jove is ſeen;
A glowing warmth the blended colours give,
The figures in the picture ſeem to live.
Heav'n's thund'ring monarch fits with awful grace,
And dread omnipotence imprints his face:
There *Neptune* ſtood, diſdainfully he ſrown'd,
And with his trident ſmote the trembling ground,
The parting rocks a ſpacious chaſm diſcloſe,
From whence a fiery, prancing ſeed aroſe;
And on that uſeful gift he ſounds his claim,
To grace the city with his honour'd name.
See her own figure next with martial air,
A ſhining helmet decks her flowing hair;
Her thoughtful breaſt her well pois'd ſhield ſ-defends,
And her bare arm a glitt'ring ſpear extends,

E. z.

With

40

The STORY of ARACHNE.

With which she wounds the plain; from thence arose
A spreading tree; green olives load the boughs.
The pow'rs her gift behold with wond'ring eyes,
And to the goddefs give the rightful prize.

120

Such mercy checks her wrath, that to diffuse
By others fate the too prefumptuous maid,
With miniatures she fills each corner space,
To curb her pride, and fave her from difgrace.

125

Hæmus and Rhodopé in this she wrought,
The beauteous colours spoke her lively thought;
With arrogance and fierce ambition fir'd,
They to the sacred names of Gods aspir'd;
To mountains chang'd their lofty heads arise,
And lose their lefs'ning summits in the skies.

130

In that, in all the strength of art was seen
The wretched fate of the Pygmæan queen;
June enrag'd, refents th' audacious aim,
And to a crane transforms the vanquish'd dame;
In that voracious shape she still appears,
And plagues her people with perpetual wars.

135

In

The STORY of ARACHNE.

41

In this, Antigoné for beauty strove
With the bright confort of imperial Jove:
Juno incens'd, her royal pow'r display'd,
And to a bird converts the haughty maid,
Laomedon his daughter's fate bewails,
Nor his, nor Ilion's fervent pray'r prevails,
But on her lovely skin white feathers rife;
Chang'd to a clam'rous stork, flie mounts the skies.

140

In the remaining orb, the heav'nly maid.
The tale of childleſs Cynaras display'd,
A fettled anguſh in his look appears,
And from his bloodſhot eyes flow ſtreams of tears;
On the cold ground, no more a father, thrown;
He for his daughters clasp'd the poliſh'd ſtone.
And when he fought to hold their wonted charms,
The temple's ſteps deceiv'd his eager arms.
Wreaths of green olive round the border twine,
And her own tree incloſes the deſign.

150

155

Arachne paints th'amours of mighty Jove,
How in a bull the God difguis'd his love,
A real bull feems in the piece to roar,
And real billows breaking on the shore.

E 3

In

42

The STORY of ARACHNE.

In fair Europa's face appears surprize,
To the retreating land she turns her eyes,
And seems to call her maids, who wond'ring ftood,
And with their tears increas'd the briny flood;
Her trembling feet she by contraction faves
From the rude infult of the riling waves.

160

165

Here am'rous Jove diffolving Læda trod,
And in the vig'rous fwan conceal'd the God.
Love lends him now an eagle's new difguife,
Beneath his fluttering wings Afteria lies,
Th' enliv'ning colours here with force exprefs'd
How Jove the fair Antiope carefs'd.
In a strong fatyr's muſcled form he came
Inſtilling love transports the glowing dame,
And luſty twins reward his nervous flame.
Here how he footh'd the bright Alcmena's love,
Who for Amphitryon took th' impoſtor Jove,
And how the God, in golden flow'r allur'd
The guarded nymph, in brazen walls immur'd.
How, in a ſwain, Mnemofyne he charms;
How lambent flame the fair Ægina warms:
And how with various glitt'ring hues inlaid
In serpent's form Deöis he betray'd.

170

175

175

180

Here

The STORY of ARACHNE.

43

Here you, great *Neptune*, with a short-liv'd flame
In a young bull enjoy th' *Æolian* dame.

Then in *Enipeus'* shape intrigues purfue,
'Tis thus th' *Aloids* boaft descent from you.

Here to *Bifaltis* was thy love convey'd,
When a rough ram deceiv'd the yielding maid.

Ceres, kind mother of the bounteous year,
Whose golden locks a sheafy garland bear;
And the dread dame, with hifling serpents hung,
(From whom the *Pegasæan* courfer sprung)

Thee in a snuffling stallion's form enjoy,
Exhauft thy strength, and ev'ry nerve employ;

*Melantho* as a dolphin you betray,

And sport in pleafures on the rolling fea;
Such juſt proportion graces ev'ry part,
Nature herſelf appears improv'd by art.

Here in diſguife was mighty *Phæbus* ſeen

With clowniſh appearance, and a rufſic mien;

Again transform'd, he's drefs'd in falcon's plumes,
And now the lion's noble ſhape affumes;

Now, in a ſhepherd's form, with treach'rous ſmiles

He *Macareian* Iſſe's heart beguiles.

Here

44

The STORY of ARACHNE.

Here his plump shape enamour'd *Bacchus* leaves,
And in the grape *Erigone* deceives.
There *Saturn*, in a neighing horse, she wove,
And *Chiron's* double form rewards his love.
Feftoons of flow'rs inwove with ivy fhine,
Border the wond'rous piece, and round the texture twine.

Not *Pallas*, nor ev'n ſpleen itſelf could blame,
The wond'rous work of the *Mæonian* dame;
With grief her vaſt ſucceſs the goddeſs bore,
And of cœleſtial crimes the ſtory tore.
Her boxen ſhuttle, now enrag'd, ſhe took,
And thrice the proud *Idmonian* artiſt ſtruck:
Th' unhappy maid, to ſee her labours vain,
Grew refolute with pride, and ſhame, and pain:
Around her neck a fatal noofe ſhe ty'd,
And ſought by ſudden death her guilt to hide.
*Pallas* with pity ſaw the deſp'rate deed,
And thus the virgin's milder fate decreed.

“ Live, impious rival, mindful of thy crime,
“ Suspended thus to wafte thy future time,

“ Thy puniſhment involves thy num'rous race,

“ Who for thy fault ſhall ſhare in thy diſgrace :”

Her

The STORY of ARACHNE.

45

Her incantation magic juices aid,
With sprinkling drops the bath'd the pendent maid,
And thus the charm its noxious pow'r difplay'd.

Like leaves in autumn drop her falling hairs,

With these her nose, and next her riling ears.

Her head to the minuteft subftance shrunk,
The potent juice contracts her changing trunk;

Close to her fides her slender fingers clung,

There chang'd to nimble feet in order hung;

Her bloated belly fwells to larger fize,

Which now with fmallest threads her work supplies;

The Virgin in the Spider ftill remains;

And in that shape her former art retains.

230

235

ORIGINAL.

ORIGINAL POEMS

W I N E*:

A P O E M.

Nulla placere diu, nec vivere carmina poffunt,
Quæ scribuntur aquæ potoribus.

Hor.

Of happiness's terrestrial, and the source
Whence human pleafures flow, sing Heavenly Muses,
Of sparkling juices, of th' enlivening grape,
Whofe quick'ning taſte adds vigour to the ſoul,

Whofe

* In a letter from Aaron Hill to Mr. Savage, published in the first
mer's works, Vol. I. p. 339. speaking of Mr. Gay, he has the
words,—" That Poem you speak of, called WINE, he printed in
the year 1710 as I remember. I am sure I have one among my
pamphlets.—I will look for it and fend it you if it will be of ufe or
satisfaction to any gentleman of your acquaintance."—This is the
piece Mr. Hill mentions, and it is here printed from a copy of the
original edition.

WINE: A POEM.

47

Whole sov'reign pow'r revives decaying Nature,
And thaws the frozen blood of hoary age,
A kindly warmth diffusing; — youthful fires
Gild his dim eyes, and paint with ruddy hue
His wrinkled visage, ghaftly wan before:
Cordial reſtorative to mortal man,

With copious hand by bounteous gods beſtow'd!

10

Bacchus divine, aid my advent'rous ſong,
That with no middle flight intends to foar:
Inſpir'd, ſublime, on Pegaſſan wing,
By thee upborne, I draw Miltonic air.

15

When fumy vapours clog our loaded brows
With furrow'd frowns, when ſtupid, downcaſt eyes,
Th' external ſymptoms of remorſe within,
Expreſs our grief, or when in ſullen dumps,
With head incumbent on expanded palm,
Moping we fit, in ſilent ſorrow drown'd:
Whether inveigling Hymen has trepann'd
Th' unwary youth, and ty'd the Gordian knot
Of jangling wedlock not to be diſſolv'd:
Worry'd all day by loud Xantippe's din,
Who fails not to exalt him to the ſtars,

20

25

And

48

WINE: A POEM.

And fix him there among the branched crew,
(Taurus, and Aries, and Capricorn,
The greatest monsters of the Zodiac :)

Or for the lofs of anxious worldly pelf,
Or Cælia's fcornful flights, and cold disdain,
Which check'd his amorous flame with coy repulfe:
The worst events that mortals can befal;
By cares deprefs'd, in penfive hyppifh mood,
With floweft pace the tedious minutes roll.

Thy charming fight, but much more charming guft
New life incites, and warms our chilly blood.

Strait with pert looks, we raife our drooping fronts,
And pour in crystal pure, thy purer juice ;—

With chearful countenance, and fteady hand
Raife it lip-high, then fix the fpacious rim

To the expecting mouth;—with grateful taſte,
The ebbing wine glides swiftly o'er the tongue,
The circling blood with quicker motion flies :

Such is thy powerful influence, thou ſtrait
Dispell'ft thofe clouds, that louring dark, eclips'd
The whilom glories of the gladſome face;—

While dimpled cheeks, and ſparkling, rolling eyes,
Thy chearing virtues, and thy worth proclaim.

WINE: A POEM.

49

So miſts and exhalations that arife

50

From hills or ſteamy lake, duſky or grey,
Prevail, till Phœbus ſheds Titanian rays,
And paints their fleecy skirts with ſhining gold,
Unable to reſiſt, the foggy damps,

That veil'd the ſurface of the verdant fields,
At the god's penetrating beams diſperſe ;
The earth again in former beauty ſmiles,
In gaudieſt livery dreſt, all gay and clear.

55

When diſappointed Strephon meets repulſe,
Scoff'd at, deſpis'd, in melancholic mood,

60

Joyleſs he waſtes in ſighs the lazy hours,
'Till reinſorc'd by thy moſt potent aid,

He ſtorms the breach, and wins the beauteous fort.

To pay thee homage, and receive thy bleſſing,
The British ſeaman quits his native shore,
And ventures thro' the trackleſs, deep abyſs,
Plowing the ocean, while the upheav'd oak,

65

With beaked prow, rides tilting o'er the waves ;

Shock'd by tempeſtuous jarring winds, ſhe rolls

In dangers imminent, 'till ſhe arrives

70

At thofe bleſt climes thou favour'ſt with thy prefence.

VOL. IV.

F

Whether

WINE: A POEM.

50

Whether at Lufitania's sultry coaſt,
Or lofty Teneriff, Palma, Ferro,
Provence, or at the Celtiberian ſhores;
With gazing pleafure and aftonifhment
At Paradife (ſeat of our ancient fire)
He thinks himſelf arriv'd; the purple grapes,
In largeſt cluſters pendant, grace the vines
Innumerous; in fields groſeſque and wild
They with implicit curls the oak entwine,
And load with fruit divine his ſpreading boughs;
Sight moſt delicious! not an irkſome thought,
Or of left native ifle, or abſent friends,
Or deareſt wife, or tender fucking babe,
His kindly-treacherous memory now preſents;
The jovial God has left no room for cares.

75

80

85

Celeſtial liquor! thou that didſt inſpire
Maro and Flaccus, and the Grecian bard,
With lofty numbers, and heroic ſtrains
Unparallel'd, with eloquence profound,
And arguments conviſtive, didſt enforce
Fam'd Tully, and Demoſthenes renown'd:

90

* Ennius

* Ennius
Dre
To
Her
Wit
His
The
Of
He
Her
Born
And
'Tis
And
Excit
And
O
Still
Thy

* A
reading
ing fo

WINE: A POEM.

51

* Ennius, first fam'd in Latin song, in vain
Drew Heliconian streams, ungrateful whet
To jaded Mufe, and oft, with vain attempt,
Heroic acts, in flagging numbers dull,
With pains effay'd; but, abjeft still and low,
His unrecruited Mufe could never reach
The mighty theme, 'till, from the purple fount
Of bright Lenæan fire, her barren drought
He quench'd, and with infpiring neſt'rous juice,
Her drooping ſpirits chear'd;—aloft ſhe tow'rs,
Borne on ſtiff pennons, and of war's alarms,
And trophies won, in loftieſt numbers ſings :
'Tis thou the hero's breaſt to martial acts,
And refolution bold, and ardour brave,
Excit'd: thou check'd inglorious, lolling eafe,
And fluggifh minds with gen'rous fires inflam'd.
O thou, that firſt my quick'ned foul didſt warm,
Still with thy aid affiſt me, that thy præſe,
Thy univerſal ſway o'er all the world,

95

100

105

110

F 2

In

* An old Latin poet, of whom a more modern Roman bard, when reading his works, made use of this expression, “ I have been fecking for pearls in Ennius's dunghill.”

52

WINE: A POEM.

In everlastingly numbers, like the theme,
I may record, and sing thy matchless worth.

Had the Oxonian bard thy praise rehears'd
His muse had yet retain'd her wonted height;
Such as of late o'er Blenheim's field she foar'd
Aerial: now in Arconian bogs
She lies inglorious flound'ring, like her theme
Languid and faint, and on damp wing, immerg'd
In acid juice, in vain attempts to rive.

115

120

With what sublimest joy from noisy town,
At rural seat, Lucretius retir'd :
Flaccus, untainted by perplexing cares,
Where the white poplar, and the lofty pine
Join neighb'ring boughs, sweet hospitable shade
Creating, from Phœbean rays secure,
A cool retreat, with few well-chofen friends
On flowery mead recumbent, spent the hours
In mirth innocuous, and alternate verse !
With roses interwoven, poplar wreaths
Their temples bind, drefs of Sylvestrian gods !
Choicest nesttarean juice crown'd largeft bowls,
And overlook'd the brim, alluring fight,

125

130

of

WINE: A POEM.

53

Of fragrant fcent, attractive, taft divinē!
Whether from Formain-grape depreſs'd, Falern,
Or Setin, Maſſic, Gauran or Sabine,
Leſbian or Cœcuban, the chearing bowl
Mov'd brifkly round, and ſpurr'd their heighten'd wit.
To ſing Mecænas' praeſe, their patron kind.

135

But we not as our priftine ſires, repair
T'umbrageous grot or vale, but when the fun
Faintly from western ſkies his rays oblique
Darts floping, and to Thetis' watry lap
Haſtens in prone career, with friends ſelect
Swiftly we hie to * Devil, young or old,
Jocund and boon, where at the entrance ſtands
A ſtripling, who with ſcrapes and humil cringe,
Greets us in winning ſpeech, and accent bland,
With lighteſt bound, and ſafe, unerring ſtep
He ſkips before, and nimbly climbs the ſtairs :
Melampus thus, panting with lolling tongue,
And wagging tail, gambols, and trifſes before
His ſequent lord, from penſive walk return'd,

140

145

150

F 3

Whether

* The Devil-tavern, Temple-bar, frequented by his friends.

54

WINE: A POEM.

Whether in shady wood, or pafture green,
And waits his coming at the well-known gate.— 155
High to the stairs afcent, in regal port,
Sits a majeftic dame, whose looks denounce
Command and lov'reignty, with haughty air,
And fludy'd mien, in semi-circ'lar throne
Enclos'd, she deals around her dread commands; 160
Behind her (dazzling fight!) in order rang'd,
Pile above pile, cryftalline veffels fhine;
Attendant flaves with eager flrides advance,
And, after homage paid, bawl out aloud
Words unintelligible, noife confus'd: 165
She knows the jargon ſounds, and ſtrait defcribes,
In characters myſterious, words obſcure;
More legible are algebraic ſigns,
Or myſtic figures by magicians drawn,
When they invoke th' infernal ſpirits aid. 170

Drive hence the rude and barbarous diffonance
Of savage Thracians, and Croatian boors;
The loud Centaurian broils with Lapithæ
Sound harſh, and grating to Lenæan god;
Chafe brutal feuds of Belgian ſkippers hence,
(Amid their cups, whose innate temper's ſhewn) 175

14

WINE: A POEM.

55

In clumfy fift wielding Scymmetrian knife,
Who flash each other's eyes, and blubber'd face,
Profaning Bacchanalian, solemn rites :
Music's harmonious numbers better suit
His feftivals, from instruments or voice,
Or Gasperini's hand the trembling string
Should touch ; or from the dulcet Tuscan dames,
Or warbling Toft's far more melodious tongue,
Sweet symphonies should flow, the Delian god
For airy Bacchus is affociate meet.

180

185

The stairs afcent now gain'd, our guide unbars
The door of spacious room, and creaking chairs
(To ear offenfive) round the table fets.
We fit, when thus his florid fpeech begins :
" Name, Sirs, the wine that moft invites your tafte
" Champaigne, or Burgundy, or Florence pure,
" Or Hock antique, or Lifbon new or old,
" Bourdeaux, or neat French white, or Alicant :"
For Bourdeaux we with voice unanimous
Declare (such sympathy's in boon compeers.)
He quits the room alert, but soon returns ;
One hand capacious gliftering veffels bears
Reſplendent, t' other with a graſp ſecure,

190

195

A bottle

WINE: A POEM.

56

A bottle (mighty charge !) upstaid, full fraught
With goodly wine. He, with extended hand
Rais'd high, pours forth the fanguine frothy juice,
O'erspread with bubbles, diffipated soon :
We ftrait to arms repair, experienc'd chiefs ;
Now glaſſes clafh with glaſſes (charming found !)
And glorious Anna's health, the firſt, the beſt,
Crowns the full glaſs;—at her infpiring name
The ſprightly wine reſults, and ſeems to ſmile ;
With hearty zeal, and wiſh unanimous,
Her health we drink, and in her health our own. 210

A paufe enfues ; and now with grateful chat
W' improve the interval, and joyous mirth.
Engages our rais'd ſouls, pat repartee,
Or witty joke, our airy ſenſes moves
To pleafant laughter, ſtraight the echoing room
With univerſal peals and ſhouts reſounds. 220

The royal Dane, bleſt confort of the queen,
Next crowns the ruby'd nectar, all whose blifs
In Anna's plac'd :—with ſympathetic flame,
And mutual endearments, all her joys,
225

Like

WINE: A POEM.

57

Like the kind turtle's pure untainted love,
Centre in him, who shares the grateful hearts
Of loyal subjects, with his sovereign queen;
For, by his prudent care, united shores
Were fav'd from hostile fleets invasion dire.

230

The hero Marlbro' next, whosevaft exploits
Fame's clarion sounds, fresh laurels, triumphs new
We wish, like thofe he won at Hockftcht's field.

Next Devonshire illustrious, who from race
Of noblest patriots sprang, whose worthy foul
Is with each fair and virtuous gift adorn'd,
That phone in his most worthy ancestors,
For then distinct in separate breasts were seen
Virtues distinct, but all in him unite.

235

Prudent Godolphin of the nation's weal
Frugal, but free and gen'rous of his own,
Next crowns the bowl, with faithful Sunderland,
And Halifax, the Muses darling son,
In whom conspicuous, with full luftre shine
The fureft judgement, and the brightest wit,

240

245

Himself

58

WINE: A POEM,

Himself Mecænas and a Flaccus too.—
And all the worthies of the British realm
In order rang'd, fucceed; fuch Healths as tinge
The dulcet wine with a more charming guft.

Now each his miftrefls toafts, by whose bright eye 250
He's fir'd; Cosmelia fair, or Dulcibell'
Or Sylvia, comely black, with jetty eyes
Piercing, or airy Cælia, fprightly maid!—
Infenſibly thus flow unnumber'd hours;
Glafs fucceeds glafs, 'till the Dircean god
Shines in our eyes, and with his fulgent rays
Enlightens our glad looks with lovely dye;
All blithe and jolly, that like Arthur's knights,
Of rotund table, fam'd in old records,
Now moſt we feem'd—fuch is the power of WINE. 260

Thus we the winged hours in harmleſs mirth
And joys unfully'd paſs, till humid night
Has half her race perform'd, now all abroad
Is hush'd and filent, nor the rumbling noife
Of coach or cart, or fmoaky link-boy's call
Is heard—but universal Silence reigns :
When we in merry plight, airy and gay,

Surpriz'd

WINE: A POEM.

59

Surpriz'd to find the hours so swifty fly,
With hafty knock, or twang of pendent cord,
Alarm the drowzy youth from flumb'ring nod;
Startled he flies, and stumbles o'er the stairs
Erroneous, and with busy knuckles plies

270

His yet clung eyelids, and with stagg'ring reel
Enters confus'd, and mutt'ring asks our wills ;

When we with liberal hand the score discharge,
And homeward each his course with steady step
Unerring steers, of cares and coin bereft.

275

THE

†THE
STORY
OF
CEPHISA.

IN western climes where the bright God of day,
Darts on the gladsome earth a warmer ray,
While smiling Spring led on the jocund hours,
And early months beftrew'd the fields with flow'rs,
In bloom of youth Cephisa, lovely maid
Trac'd the wide lawns, and thro' the forefts stray'd;
Not all the nymphs who fwell Diana's train
From Cynthus' top, when iffuing on the plain,
With hound and horn they raife the chearful cry,
And the rocks echo and the floods reply :
Not all their train for beauty could compare
Their godcols' felf fcarce like Cephifa fair.—
Struck with the fight of fuch tranfcendant charms,
With gifts the shepherds woo'd her to their arms.

The

The STORY of CEPHISA.

61

The am'rous toys no grace nor favour gain'd;
The gifts, and givers she alike disdain'd;
Refolv'd in happy solitude to rove
A sylvan huntref's thro' the leafy grove.

20

But envious Fate the nymph no reſpite gives,
In ev'ry heart her lov'd idea lives:
E'en Pan himſelf, with ardent paſſion fir'd,
The God of woods, the woodland nymph deſir'd;
Still as he views, he pants to clasp the maid,
And softly fighting to himſelf he faid:

25

"O happy winds, which kifs that snowy breaſt,

"O happy garments which those limbs inveſt,

"But, happier he who gains ſo rich a prize,

"Pants in those arms, and on that boſom dies!"

30

Thus he;—the Nymph far other loves employ,
The chace her glory, and the woods her joy;
Oft as the God is preſent to her fight,
So oft' the nymph prepares for ſudden flight,
Eludes his ſearch, ſwift ſkimming o'er the lawn,
As from the beagle flies the bounding fawn.

35

G

A bow'r

62 The STORY of CEPHISA.

A bow'r there was, a clofe fequefter'd fhade,
By poplar boughs and twining ofiers made,
Faft by whole fide a chryftal fountain flow'd,
(The banks with flow'rs of various colours glow'd;)
Here oft' at noon the weary fair reclin'd
To court the coolneſs of the gentle wind,
For here soft Zephyr with a grateful breeze,
Kifs'd the young plants, and whifper'd thro' the trees.

It chanc'd that *Pan* had mark'd the pebbled bed
Where the ftream ilſu'd from its fountain head,
Thence pouring on, through moſty windings roll'd, 50
O'er fertile tracks and fands that glow'd with gold;
Its courſe the God with curious ſearch purſu'd,
Till pleas'd, at length, the fragrant bow'r he view'd;
But far more pleas'd the beauteous nymph ſurvey'd,
Stretch'd at her eafe beneath the cooling fhade. 55
His near approach the penſive nymph alarms,
Who rifes haſty, with disorder'd charms,
Springs from her covert like the tim'rous hare,
And, flying, fills with ſhricks the ambient air.
With wings of love *Pan* urges on the courſe,
Fear lends her ſtrength, while Love ſupplies his force.

Yet

The STORY of CEPHISA.

63

Yet oft the God in the mid' chafe delays,
Stops short of conquest and submissive prays,
"O thou", he cries, "the loveliest of thy kind,
"Why fly'ft thou thus, and leav'ft thy love behind; 65
"No savage foe, no plunderer is near,

"Nor mountain-robber with his dreadful spear,

"Nor mean am I tho' words my lineage claim,

"My fire immortal, and myself the fame,

"Nor on the crook, nor plough do I depend,

70

"Nor on the mountain's top a scanty flock attend;"—

"PAN is my name;—the herds on yonder plains,

"My herbage fattens and my care fuftains;

"To me the woodland empire is decreed,

"I claim th' invention of the vocal reed;

75

"Yet vain these arts, these gifts in vain beftow'd,

"Great as I am, and worflipp'd as a God,

"If thou bright nymph with coynefs and difdain,

"Repay thy lover, and deride his pain.

80

Thus urg'd the fylvan God his am'rous pray'r,
But all his words were loft in empty air.

With double fpeed the nymph her courſe renew'd,

With double fpeed the ravilher purſu'd,

G 2

O'er

64. The STORY of CEPHISA.

O'er hills and dales they hold the rapid race,
Till, spent at length, and weary'd with the chace,
With secret dread she views the fun descend,
And twilight o'er the earth her veil extend;
For now the swift purfuer nearer drew,
And almost touch'd her garments as she flew;
Wheel'd as she wheel'd, on ev'ry footstep gain'd,
And no relief nor glimpse of hope remain'd.

Faft by a stream, an ancient altar ftood,
And cloſe behind it roſe a wavy wood,

Whofe twining boughs exclude the parting light,
And duſky ſhades anticipate the night,

Thither, collecting all her force, ſhe flies,
And “Oh! whatever god. (the damſel cries)

“ Protects this altar, may that gen'rous pow'r

“ Hear and relieve me in this dang'rous hour,

“ Give me at leaſt to ſave my ſpotleſs fame.

“ And ſtill in death preferve a virgin's name.”

While thus to unknown pow'r's Cephisa pray'd,
Victorious Pan o'ertook the fainting maid.

Around her waſte his eager arms he throws,
With love and joy his throbbing bosom glows ;

When

The STORY of CEPHISA.

65

When, wonderful to tell, her form receives
A verdant cov'ring of expanded leaves;
Then shooting downward trembling to the ground
A fibrous root her slender angles bound;

Strange to herself as yet aghast she stands,
And to high Heav'n she rears her spotless hands;
These while she spreads them still in fpires extend,
Till in small leaves her taper fingers end;

Her voice she tries; but utt'rance is deny'd,

The mother'd founds in hollow murmurs dy'd;

At length, quite chang'd, the God with wonder view'd
A beauteous plant arising where she growth'd;

This from his touch with human sense inpi'r'd,
Indignant shrinking, of itself retir'd;

Yet Pan attends it with a lover's cares,
And folt'ring aid with tender hand prepares;

The new form'd plant reluctant seems to yield,
And lives the grace and glory of the field.

But still, as mindful of her former state,

The nymph's perfections on her change await,
And tho' transform'd, her virtue still remains,
No touch impure her sacred plant suftains,

From whence the name of SENSITIVE it gains.

G 3

110

115

120

125

This

66 The STORY of CEPHISA.

This oft' the nymphs approach with secret dread, 130
While crimson blushes o'er their cheeks are spread;
Yet the true virgin has no cause for fear,
The teft is equal if the maid's sincere.

This in thy walks O ______ is found

Thy walks for virgins fair and chafte renown'd. 135

This from the mild Hesperian clime convey'd,
Shall ever bloom, O! W_________ in thy shade;
Yet Western nymphs thy wondrous tree avoid,
Left all their hopes be by a touch destroy'd.

Britannia's daughters no such terrors know, 140
With no lewd flames their spotless bosoms glow;

Tho' ev'ry shrub our cultur'd gardens boast,
And all of foreign stock, a countless hoft;
Should all at once the precious gift receive,
And ev'ry plant become a SENSITIVE. 145

Yet should their fame the dreadful trial stand,
And add new honours to their native land;
Honours their lateft progeny shall share,
Nor ever virtuous, as for ever fair.

MOLLY

68

MOLLY MOG,

II.

O Nephew ! your grief is but folly,
In town you may find better prog ;
Half a crown there will get you Molly,
A Molly much better than Mog.

III.

I know that by wits 'tis recited
That women are beſt at a clog ;
But I am not so easil y frighted
From loving of ſweet Molly Mog.

IV.

The ſchool-boy's defire is a play-day ;
The ſchool-maſter's joy is to ſlog ;
The milk-maid's delights is on May-day ;
But mine is on ſweet Molly Mog.

V,

Will-a-wisp leads the traveller gadding
Thro' ditch, and thro' quagmire, and bog ;
But no light can fet me a madding
Like the eyes of my ſweet Molly Mog.

VI. For

A BALLAD.

69

VI.

For guineas in other mens breeches
Your gamesters will palm and will cog;
But I envy them none of their riches,
So I may win sweet Molly Mog.

25

VII.

The heart when half wounded is changing,
It here and there leaps like a frog;
But my heart can never be ranging,
'Tis so fix'd upon sweet Molly Mog.

VIII.

Who follows all ladies of pleasure,
In pleasure is thought but a hog;
All the sex cannot give so good measure
Of joys, as my sweet Molly Mog.

30

IX.

I feel I'm in love to distraction,
My fenses all loft in a fog;
And nothing can give satisfaction
But thinking of sweet Molly Mog.

35

X. A

VI. E