"That, confcious of her fhame, avoids the light,
"And loves the gloomy covering of the night;
"The birds, where'er fhe flutters, scare away
"The hooting wretch, and drive her from the day."
The raven, urg'd by such impertinence,
Grew paffionate, it seems, and took offence,
And curft the harmless daw; the daw withdrew :
The raven to her injur'd patron flew,

And found him out, and told the fatal truth
Of falfe Coronis and the favour'd youth.

The god was wroth; the colour left his look,
The wreath his head, the harp his hand forsook;
His filver bow and feather'd fhafts he took,
And lodg'd an arrow in the tender breast,
That had fo often to his own been prest.

Down fell the wounded nymph, and fadly groan'd,
And pull'd his arrow reeking from the wound;
And, weltering in her blood, thus faintly cry'd,
"Ah cruel god! though I have justly dy'd,
"What has, alas! my unborn infant done,
"That he should fall, and two expire in one ?"
This faid, in agonies she fetch'd her breath.

The god diffolves in pity at her death;

He hates the bird that made her falfehood known,
And hates himself for what himself had done;
The feather'd fhaft, that fent her to the fates,
And his own hand, that sent the fhaft, he hates.
Fain would he heal the wound, and ease her pain,
And tries the compass of his art in vain.
Soon as he faw the lovely nymph expire,
The pile made ready, and the kindling fire,

K. 2

With

With fighs and groans her obfequies he kept,
And, if a god could weep, the god had wept.
Her corpfe he kiss'd, and heavenly incense brought,
And folemniz'd the death himself had wrought.

But, left his offspring should her fate partake,
Spite of th' immortal mixture in his make,
He ript her womb, and set the child at large,
And gave him to the centaur Chiron's charge:
Then in his fury black'd the raven o'er,
And bid him prate in his white plumes no more.

OCYRRHÖE TRANSFORM'D TO a mare.

OLD Chiron took the babe with secret joy, Proud of the charge of the celestial boy, His daughter too, whom on the fandy fhore, The nymph Chariclo to the centaur bore, With hair difhevel'd on her fhoulders, came To fee the child, Ocyrrhöe was her name; She knew her father's art, and could rehearse The depths of prophecy in founding verfe. Once, as the facred infant fhe furvey'd, The god was kindled in the raving maid, And thus fhe utter'd her prophetic tale; "Hail, great physician of the world, all hail; "Hail, mighty infant, who in years to come "Shall heal the nations, and defraud the tomb; "Swift be thy growth! thy triumphs unconfin'd! "Make kingdoms thicker, and increase mankind. "Thy daring art fhall animate the dead, "And draw the thunder on thy guilty head:

"Then

"Then shalt thou die; but from the dark abode
"Rife up victorious, and be twice a god.
"And thou, my fire, not deftin'd by thy birth
"To turn to dust, and mix with common earth,
"How wilt thou tofs, and rave, and long to die,
"And quit thy claim to immortality;

"When thou shalt feel, inrag'd with inward pains,
"The Hydra's venom rankling in thy veins ?
"The gods in pity fhall contract thy date
"And give thee over to the power of fate."
Thus, entering into deftiny, the maid
The fecrets of offended Jove betray'd:
More had the still to say; but now appears

Opprefs'd with fobs and fighs, and drown'd in tears.
"My voice, fays fhe, is gone, my language fails;
"Through every limb my kindred shape prevails;
"Why did the god this fatal gift impart,

"And with prophetic raptures fwell my heart?
"What new defires are these? I long to pace
"O'er flowery meadows, and to feed on grafs;
"I haften to a brute, a maid no more;
"But why, alas! am I transform'd all o'er ?
"My fire does half a human shape retain,
"And in his upper parts preferves the man."
Her tongue no more distinct complaints affords,
But in thrill accents and mif-fhapen words
Pours forth fuch hideous wailings, as declare
The human form confounded in the mare :
Till by degrees, accomplish'd in the beast,
She neigh'd outright, and all the feed expreft.

Her ftooping body on her hands is borne,

Her hands are turn'd to hoofs, and shod in horn;
Her yellow treffes ruffle in a mane,

And in her flowing tail the frisks her train.
The mare was finish'd in her voice and look,

And a new name from the new figure took.

THE TRANSFORMATION OF BATTUS TO A TOUCHSTONE.

SORE wept the centaur, and to Phœbus pray'd;
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 fhoulders threw the shepherd's cloak;
On feven compacted reeds he us'd to play,
And on his rural pipe to waste the day.

As once, attentive to his pipe, he play'd,
The crafty Hermes from the god convey'd
A drove that separate from their fellows stray'd.
The theft an old infidious peasant view'd
(They call'd him Battus in the neighbourhood);
Hir'd by a wealthy Pylian prince to feed

His favourite mares, and watch the generous breed.
The thievith god fufpected him, and took
The hind afide, and thus in whispers fpoke;
"Discover not the theft, whoe'er thou be,
"And take that milk-white heifer for thy fee.
"Go, ftranger, cries the clown, fecurely on,
That stone shall fooner tell;" and show'd a stone.

The

The god withdrew, but straight return'd again,
In fpeech and habit like a country swain;

And cried out, "Neighbour, haft thou feen a stray
"Of 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 them there. "In yon dark vale :" and in the vale they were. The double bribe had his false heart beguil'd: The god, fuccefsful in the trial, smil'd; "And doft thou thus betray myself to me? "Me to myself dost thou betray?" fays he: Then to a Touch-ftone turns the faithless spy, And in his name records his infamy.

THE STORY OF AGLAUROS, TRANSFORM'D INTO A STATUE.

THIS done, the god flew up on high, and pass'd O'er lofty Athens, by Minerva grac'd,

And wide Munichia, whilft his eyes furvey

All the yaft region that beneath him lay.

'Twas now the feast, when each Athenian maid Her yearly homage to Minerva paid;

In canisters, with garlands cover'd o'er;
High on their heads their myftic gifts they bore;
And now, returning in a folemn train,
The troop of fhining virgins fill'd the plain.

The god well-pleas'd beheld the pompous show,
And faw the bright proceffion pass below;
Then veer'd about, and took a wheeling flight,
And hover'd o'er them; as the spreading kite,

K 4

That