He said, and tears the common grief display, Of him who bade, and her who must obey.

Yet Telethusa still persists, to find
Fit arguments to move a father's mind;
To extend his wishes to a larger scope,
And in one vessel not confine his hope.
Lygdus continues hard: her time drew near,
And she her heavy load could scarcely bear;
When slumb'ring, in the latter shades of night
Before the approaches of returning light,
She saw, or thought she saw, before her bed,
A glorious train, and Isis at their head:
Her moony horns were on her forehead plac'd,
And yellow sheaves her shining temples grac'd:
A mitre, for a crown, she wore on high;
The dog and dappled bull were waiting by ;
Osiris, sought along the banks of Nile;
The silent god; the sacred crocodile ;
And, last a long procession moving on,
With timbrels, that assist the lab'ring moon.
Her slumbers seem'd dispell'd, and, broad
awake,

She heard a voice that thus distinctly spake :
My votary, thy babe from death defend,
Nor fear to save whate'er the gods will send.
Delude with art thy husband's dire decree :
When danger calls, repose thy trust on me
And know thou hast not serv'd a thankless
deity.

This promise made, with night the goddess fled:

With joy the woman wakes, and leaves her

bed:

Devoutly lifts her spotless hands on high,

And prays the powers their gift to ratify. Now grinding pains proceed to bearing throes,

Till its own weight the burden did disclose,
'T was of the beauteous kind, and brought to
light

With secrecy, to shun the father's sight.
The indulgent mother did her care employ,
And pass'd it on her husband for a boy.
The nurse was conscious of the fact alone;
The father paid his vows as for a son;
And call'd him Iphis, by a common name,
Which either sex with equal right may claim.
Iphis his grandsire was the wife was pleas'd,
Of half the fraud by fortune's favour eas'd:
The doubtful name was us'd without deceit,
And truth was cover'd with a pious cheat.
The habit show'd a boy, the beauteous face
With manly fierceness mingled female grace.

Now thirteen years of age were swiftly run,
When the fond father thought the time drew on
Of settling in the world his only son.
Ianthe was his choice; so wondrous fair,
Her form alone with 1phis could compare :
VOL. I.-19

But Iphis bends beneath a greater grief:
As fiercely burns, but hopes for no relief.
E'en her despair adds fuel to her fire:

A maid with madness does a maid desire.
And, scarce refraining tears, Alas! said she,
What issue of my love remains for me,
How wild a passion works within my breast!
With what prodigious flames am I possess'd!
Could I the care of Providence deserve,
Heaven must destroy me, if it would preserve,
And that's my fate, or sure it would have sent
Some usual evil for my punishment :
Not this unkindly curse; to rage and burn,
Where nature shows no prospect of return.
Nor cows for cows consume with fruitless fire:
Nor mares, when hot, their fellow-mares desire;
The father of the fold supplies his ewes
The stag through secret woods his hind pursues;
And birds for mates the males of their own

species choose.

Her females Nature guards from female flame,
And joins two sexes to preserve the game:
Would I were nothing, or not what I am
Crete, fam'd for monsters, wanted of her store,
Till my new love produc'd one monster more.
The daughter of the sun a bull desir'd,
And yet e'en then a male a female fir'd:
Her passion was extravagantly new :
But mine is much the madder of the two.
To things impossible she was not bent,
But found the means to compass her intent.
To cheat his eyes she took a different shape
Yet still she gain'd a lover, and a leap;
Should all the wit of all the world conspire,
Should Daedalus assist my wild desire,
What art can make me able to enjoy,
Or what can change Ianthe to a boy?
Extinguish then thy passion, hopeless maid,
And recollect thy reason for thy aid.
Know what thou art, and love as maidens ought,
And drive these golden wishes from thy thought
Thou canst not hope thy fond desires to gain;
Where hope is wanting, wishes are in vain.

And yet no guards against our joys conspire;
No jealous husband hinders our desire:
My parents are propitious to my wish,
And she herself consenting to the bliss.
All things concur to prosper our design:
All things to prosper any love but mine.
And yet I never can enjoy the fair; [prayer.
'Tis past the power of heaven to grant my
Heaven has been kind, as far as heaven can be;
Our parents with our own desires agree;
But Nature, stronger than the gods above,
Refuses her assistance to my love;
She sets the bar that causes all my pain:
One gift refus'd makes all their bounty vain.
And now the happy day is just at hand,
To bind our hearts in Hymen's holy band:
Our hearts, but not our bodies: thus accurs'd
In midst of water I complain of thirst.
Why com'st thou, Juno, to these barren rites,
To bless a bed defrauded of delights?
And why should Hymen lift his torch on high,
To see two brides in cold embraces lie?
Thus love-sick Iphis her vain passion mourns:
With equal ardour fair Ianthe burns,
Invoking Hymen's name, and Juno's power,
To speed the work, and haste the happy hour.

She hopes, while Telethusa fears the day,
And strives to interpose some new delay:
Now feigns a sickness, now is in a fright
For this bad omen, or that boding sight.
But having done whate'er she could devise,
And emptied all her magazine of lies,
The time approach'd; the next ensuing day
The fatal secret must to light betray
Then Telethusa had recourse to prayer,
She and her daughter with dishevell'd hair;
Trembling with fear, great Isis they ador'd,
Embrac'd her altar, and her aid implor'd.
Fair who dost on fruitful Egypt smile,
queen,
Who sway'st the sceptre of the Pharian isle
And sevenfold falls of disemboguing Nile;
Relieve, in this our last distress, she said,
A suppliant mother, and a mournful maid.
Thou goddess, thou wert present to my sight;
Reveal'd I saw thee by thy own fair light:
I saw thee in my dream, as now I see,
With all thy marks of awful majesty :
The glorious train that compass'd thee around;
And heard the hollow timbrel's holy sound.
Thy words I noted, which I still retain;
Let not thy sacred oracles be vain.
That Iphis lives, that I myself am free.
From shame, and punishment, I owe to thee.
On thy protection all our hopes depend:
Thy counsel sav'd us, let thy power defend.
Her tears pursu'd her words, and while she
spoke,

The goddess nodded, and her altar shook:

The temple doors, as with a blast of wind,
Were heard to clap; the lunar horns, that bind
The brows of Isis, cast a blaze around;
The trembling timbrel made a murmuring sound.
Some hopes these happy omens did impart
Forth went the mother with a beating heart,
Not much in fear, nor fully satisfied;
But Iphis follow'd with a larger stride :
The whiteness of her skin forsook her face
Her looks imbolden'd with an awful grace :
Her features and her strength together grew,
And her long hair to curling locks withdrew.
Her sparkling eyes with manly vigour shone
Big was her voice, audacious was her tone;

*

The maid becomes a youth; no more delay
Your vows, but look, and confidently pay.
Their gifts the parents to the temple bear:
The votive tables this inscription wear:
Iphis, the man, has to the goddess paid
The vows, that Iphis offer'd when a maid.

Now when the star of day had shown his face,
Venus and Juno with their presence grace
The nuptial rites, and Hymen from above
Descended to complete their happy love;
The gods of marriage lend their mutal aid,
And the warm youth enjoys the lovely maid.

PYGMALION AND THE STATUE.

From the Tenth Book of Ovid's Metamorphoses.

The Propetides, for their impudent behaviour, being turned into stone by Venus, Pygmalion, prince of Cyprus, detested all women for their sake, and resolved never to marry. He falls in love with a statue of his own making, which is changed into a maid, whom he marries. One of his descendants is Cinyras, the father of Myrrha : the daughter incestuously loves her own father; for which she is changed into a tree which bears her name. These two stories immediately follow each other, and are admirably well connected.

PYGMALION loathing their lascivious life,
Abhorr'd all womankind, but most a wife :
So single chose to live, and shunn'd to wed,
Well pleas'd to want a consort of his bed
Yet fearing idleness, the nurse of ill,
In sculpture exercis'd his happy skill:
And carv'd in ivory such a maid, so fair,
As nature could not with his art compare,
Were she to work; but in her own defence,
Must take her pattern here, and copy hence.
Pleas'd with his idol, he commends, admires,
Adores; and last, the thing ador'd desires.
A very virgin in her face was secul,
And, had she mov'd, a living maid had been:

One would have thought she could have stirr'd; but strove

With modesty, and was asham'd to move.
Art, hid with art, so well perform'd the cheat
It caught the carver with his own deceit :
He knows 't is madness, yet he must adore,
And still the more he knows it, loves the more:
The flesh, or what so seems, he touches oft,
Which feels so smooth, that he believes it soft.
Fir'd with this thought, at once he strain'd the
breast,

And on the lips a burning kiss impress'd.
'Tis true the harden'd breast resists the
gripe,

And the cold lips return a kiss unripe :
But when retiring back, he look'd again,
To think it ivory was a thought too mean:
So would believe she kiss'd, and courting more,
Again embrac'd her naked body o'er;
And straining hard the statue, was afraid

His hands had made a dint, and hurt the maid:
Explor'd her, limb by limb, and fear'd to find
So rude a gripe had left a livid mark behind:
With flattery now he seeks her mind to move,
And now with gifts, the powerful bribes of love :
He furnishes her closet first; and fills

The crowded shelves with rarities of shells: Adds orients pearls, which from the conchs he drew,

And all the sparkling stones of various hue:
And parrots imitating human tongue,
And singing-birds in silver cages hung;
And every fragrant flower, and odorous green,
Were sorted well, with lumps of amber laid
between:

Rich, fashionable robes her person deck,
Pendents her ears, and pearls adorn her neck:
Her taper'd fingers too with rings are grac'd,
And an embroider'd zone surrounds her slender

waist.

Thus like a queen array'd, so richly dress'd, Beauteous she show'd, but naked show'd the

best.

Then from the floor, he rais'd a royal bed, With coverings of Sidonian purple spread: The solemn rites perform'd, he calls her bride, With blandishments invites her to his side, And as she were with vital sense possess'd, Her head did on a plumy pillow rest.

The feast of Venus came, a solemn day, To which the Cypriots due devotion pay; With gilded horns the milk-white heifers led, Slaughter'd before the sacred altars, bled: Pygmalion offering, first approach'd the shrine, And then with prayers implor'd the powers

vine:

Almighty gods, if all we mortals want, If all we can require, be yours to grant ;

di

Make this fair statue mine, he would have said, But chang'd his words for shame, and only pray'd,

Give me the likeness of my ivory maid.

The golden goddess, present at the prayer,
Well knew he meant the inanimated fair,
And
gave the sign of granting his desire:
For thrice in cheerful flames ascends the fire.
The youth, returning to his mistress, hies,
And, impudent in hope, with ardent eyes,
And beating breast, by the dear statue lies.
He kisses her white lips, renews the bliss,
And looks and thinks they redden at the kiss:
He thought them warm before; nor longer stays,
But next his hand on her hard bosom lays :
Hard as it was, beginning to relent,

It seem'd the breast beneath his fingers bent;
He felt again, his fingers made a print, [dint.
'T was flesh, but flesh so firm, it rose against the
The pleasing task he fails not to renew:
Soft, and more soft at every touch it grew:
Like pliant wax, when chafing hands reduce
The former mass to form, and frame to use.
He would believe, but yet is still in pain,
And tries his argument of sense again,
Presses the pulse, and feels the leaping vein.
Convinc'd, o'erjoy'd, his studied thanks and
praise,

To her who made the miracle, he pays:
Then lips to lips he join'd; now freed from fear,
He found the savour of the kiss sincere:
At this the waken'd image op'd her eyes,
And view'd at once the light and lover, with sur
prise.

The goddess present at the match she made,
So bless'd the bed, such fruitfulness convey'd,"
Than ere ten moons had sharpen'd either horn,
To crown their bliss, a lovely boy was born
Paphos his name, who, grown to manhood,
wall'd

The city Paphos, from the founder call'd.

CINYRAS AND MYRRHA,

Out of the Tenth Book of Ovid's Metamorphoses.

There needs no connexion of this story with the former for the beginning of this immediately follows the end of the last: the reader is only to take notice, that Orpheus, who relates both, was by birth a Thracian; and his country far distant from Cyprus, where Myrrha was born, and from Arabia, whither she fled. You will see the reason of this note, soon after the first lines of this fable.

NOR him alone produc'd the fruitful queen; But Cinyras, who like his sire had been

tale.

A happy prince, had he not been a sire.
Daughters and fathers from my song retire:
I sing of horror: and, could I prevail,
You should not hear, or not believe my
Yet if the pleasure of my song be such,
That you will hear, and credit me too much,
Attentive listen to the last event,
And with the sin believe the punishment:
Since nature could behold so dire a crime,
I gratulate at least my native clime,

That such a land, which such a monster bore,
So far is distant from our Thracian shore.
Let Araby extol her happy coast,
Her cinnamon and sweet amomum boast,
Her fragrant flowers, her trees with precious
tears,

Her second harvests, and her double years;
How can the land be call'd so bless'd that
Myrrha bears?

Not all her odorous tears can cleanse her crime,
Her plant alone deforms the happy clime :
Cupid denies to have inflam'd thy heart,
Disowns the love, and vindicates his dart;
Some fury gave thee those infernal pains,
And shot her venom'd vipers in thy veins.
To hate thy sire, had merited a curse :
But such an impious love deserv'd a worse.
The neighb'ouring monarchs, by thy beauty led,
Contend in crowds, ambitious of thy bed:
The world is at thy choice, except but one,
Except but him, thou canst not choose, alone.
She knew it too, the miserable maid,
Ere impious love her better thoughts betray'd,
And thus within her secret soul she said:
Ah Myrrha! whither would thy wishes tend?
Ye gods, ye sacred laws, my soul defend
From such a crime as all mankind detest,
And never lodg'd before in human breast!
But is it sin? Or makes my mind alone
The imagin'd sin? For nature makes it none.
What tyrant then these envious laws began,
Made not for any other beast but man!
The father-bull his daughter may bestride,
The horse may make his mother-mare a bride :
What piety forbids the lusty ram,

Or more salacious goat, to rut their dam?
The hen is free to wed the chick she bore,
And make a husband, whom she hatch'd before.
All creatures else are of a happier kind,
Whom nor ill-natured laws from pleasure bind,
Nor thoughts of sin disturb their peace of mind
But man a slave of his own making lives:
The fool denies himself what nature gives:
Too busy senates, with an over-care
To make us better than our kind can bear,
Have dash'd a spice of envy in the laws,
And, straining up too high, have spoil'd the

cause.

Yet some wise nations break their cruel chains, And own no laws, but those which love ordains; Where happy daughters with their sires are join'd,

And piety is doubly paid in kind.

O that I had been born in such a clime,
Not here, where 't is the country makes the
crime !

But whither would my impious fancy stray?
Hence hopes, and ye forbidden thoughts, away!
His worth deserves to kindle my desires,
But with the love that daughters bear to sires.
Then had not Cinyras my father been,
What hinder'd Myrrha's hopes to be his queen?
But the perverseness of my fate is such,
That he's not mine, because he 's mine too

much :

Our kindred-blood debars a better tie;
He might be nearer, were he not so nigh.
Eyes and their objects never must unite,
Some distance is requir'd to help the sight:
Fain would I travel to some foreign shore,
Never to see my native country more,
So might I to myself myself restore;
So might my mind these impious thoughts re-

move,

And ceasing to behold, might cease to love.
But stay I must, to feed my famish'd sight,
To talk, to kiss; and more, if more I might:
More, impious maid! What more canst thou
design?

To make a monstrous mixture in thy line,
And break all statutes human and divine?
Canst thou be call'd (to save thy wretched life)
Thy mother's rival, and thy father's wife?
Confound so many sacred names in one,
Thy brother's mother! sister to thy son!
And fear'st thou not to see the infernal bands,
Their heads with snakes, with torches arm'd

The blushing maid stood silent with surprise,
And on her father fix'd her ardent eyes,
And looking sigh'd; and as she sigh'd, began
Round tears to shed, that scalded as they ran.
The tender sire, who saw her blush, and cry,
Ascrib'd it all to maiden modesty ;

And dried the falling drops, and yet more kind,
He strok'd her cheeks, and holy kisses join'd:
She felt a secret venom fire her blood,
And found more pleasure than a daughter

should;

And, ask'd again, what lover of the crew
She lik'a the best; she answer'd, One like you.
Mistaking what she meant, her pious will
He prais'd, and bade her so continue still :
The word of Pious heard, she blush'd with

shame

Of secret guilt, and could not bear the name.
'T was now the mid of night, when slumbers
close

Our eyes, and soothe our cares with soft repose;
But no repose could wretched Myrrha find,
Her body rolling, as she roll'd her mind:
Mad with desire, she ruminates her sin,
And wishes all her wishes o'er again:
Now she despairs, and now resolves to try;
Would not, and would again, she knows not why;
Stops and returns, makes and retracts the vow;
Fain would begin, but understands not how :
As when a pine is hewn upon the plains,
And the last mortal stroke alone remains,
Lab'ring in pangs of death, and threat'ning all,
This way and that she nods, considering where
to fall:

So Myrrha's mind, impell'd on either side,
Takes every bent, but cannot long abide :
Irresolute on which she should rely,
At last unfix'd in all, is only fix'd to die:
On that sad thought she rests, resolv'd on death,
She rises, and prepares to choke her breath:
Then while about the beam her zone she ties,
Dear Cinyras, farewell, she softly cries;
For thee I die, and only wish to be
Not hated, when thou know'st I die for thee:
Pardon the crime, in pity to the cause :
This said, about her neck the noose she draws.
The nurse, who lay without, her faithful guard,
Though not the words, the murmurs overheard,
And sighs and hollow sounds: surpris'd with
fright,
[light

She starts, and leaves her bed, and springs a
Unlocks the door, and ent'ring out of breath,
The dying saw, and instruments of death.
She shrieks, she cuts the zone with trembling
haste,

And in her arms her fainting charge embrac'd:
Next (for she now had leisure for her tears)

She weeping ask'd, in these her blooming years,

What unforeseen misfortune caus'd her care,
To loathe her life, and languish in despair?
The maid, with downcast eyes, and mute with
grief,

For death unfinish'd, and ill-tim'd relief,
Stood sullen to her suit: the beldame press'd
The more to know, and bar'd her wither'd breast;
Adjur'd her, by the kindly food she drew
From those dry founts, her secret ill to show.
Sad Myrrha sigh'd, and turn'd her eyes aside :
The nurse still urg'd, and would not be denied:
Nor only promis'd secrecy.; but pray'd
She might have leave to give her offer'd aid.
Good will, she said, my want of strength sup-
plies,

And diligence shall give what age denies:
If strong desires thy mind to fury move,
With charms and med'cines I can cure thy love:
If envious eyes their hurtful rays have cast,
More powerful verse shall free thee from the
blast:

If heaven offended sends thee this disease,
Offended heaven with prayers we can appease.
What then remains, that can these cares pro-
cure ?

Thy house is flourishing, thy fortune sure:
Thy careful mother yet in health survives,
And, to thy comfort, thy kind father lives.
The virgin started at her father's name,
And sigh'd profoundly, conscious of the shame:
Nor yet the nurse her impious love divin'd:
But yet surmis'd, that love disturb'd her
mind:

Thus thinking, she pursu'd her point, and laid
And lull'd within her lap the mourning maid;
Then softly sooth'd her thus, I guess your grief:
You love, my child; your love shall find relief.
My long experienc'd age shall be your guide
Rely on that, and lay distrust aside :
No breath of air shall on the secret blow,
Nor shall (what most you fear) your father
know.

Struck once again, as with a thunder clap,
The guilty virgin bounded from her lap,
And threw her body prostrate on the bed,
And, to conceal her blushes, hid her head:
There silent lay, and warn'd her with her hand
To go: but she receiv'd not the command
Remaining still importunate to know:
Then Myrrha thus; Or ask no more, or go:
I pr'ythee go, or staying spare my shame ;
What thou wouldst hear, is impious e'en to

name.

At this, on high the beldame holds her hands, And trembling, both with age and terror, stands; Adjures, and falling at her feet entreats, Soothes her with blandishments, and frights with threats,