"I only in my proper shape appear,

"Speechlefs with wonder, and half dead with fear, "Till Bacchus kindly bid me fear no more.

"With him I landed on the Chian shore, "And him shall ever gratefully adore."

"This forging flave," fays Pentheus, "would prevail "O'er our just fury by a far-fetch'd tale; "Go, let him feel the whips, the fwords, the fire, "And in the tortures of the rack expire."

Th' officious fervants hurry him away,

And the poor captive in a dungeon lay.

But, whilft the whips and tortures are prepar'd,
The gates fly open, of themselves unbarr'd;
At liberty th' unfetter'd captive stands,
And flings the loofen'd fhackles from his hands.

THE DEATH OF PENTHEUS.

BUT Pentheus, grown more furious than before, Refolv'd to fend his meffengers no more, But went himself to the distracted throng, Where high Citharon echo'd with their song. And as the fiery war-horse paws the ground, And fnorts and trembles at the trumpet's found Transported thus he heard the frantic rout, And rav'd and madden'd at the distant shout. A fpacious circuit on the hill there stood, Level and wide, and skirted round with wood; Here the rafh Pentheus, with unhallow'd eyes, The howling dames and mystic orgies spies. His mother sternly view'd him where he stood, And kindled into madness as fhe view'd:

Her leafy javelin at her fon fhe caft;

And cries, "The boar that lays our country wafte! "The boar, my fifters! aim the fatal dart, . And ftrike the brindled monster to the heart." Pentheus aftonish'd heard the dismal found, And fees the yelling matrons gathering round; He fees, and weeps at his approaching fate, And begs for mercy, and repents too late.

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Help, help! my aunt Autonöe," he cry'd; "Remember how your own Acteon dy'd." Deaf to his cries, the frantic matron crops One ftretch'd-out arm, the other Ino lops. In vain does Pentheus to his mother fue, And the raw bleeding ftumps presents to view: His mother howl'd; and, heedless of his prayer, Her trembling hand she twisted in his hair, "And this,” she cried, " shall be Agave's share.' When from the neck his ftruggling head fhe tore, And in her hands the ghaftly visage bore, With pleasure all the hideous trunk survey; Then pull'd and tore the mangled limbs away, As ftarting in the pangs of death it lay. Soon as the wood its leafy honours cafts, Blown off and scatter'd by autumnal blasts, With fuch a fudden death lay Pentheus flain, And in a thousand pieces ftrow'd the plain. By fo diftinguishing a judgment aw'd, The Thebans tremble, and confefs the god.

THE

STORY OF SALMACIS AND HERMAPHRODITUS.

FROM THE FOURTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

How Salmacis, with weak enfeebling streams,
Softens the body, and unnerves the limbs,
And what the fecret caufe, fhall here be shown;
The cause is secret, but th' effect is known.
The Naïads nurst an infant heretofore,
That Cytherea once to Hermes bore:
From both th' illuftrious authors of his race
The child was nam'd; nor was it hard to trace
Both the bright parents through the infant's face.
When fifteen years, in Ida's cool retreat,
The boy had told, he left his native feat,
And fought fresh fountains in a foreign foil:
The pleasure leffen'd the attending toil.
With eager fteps the Lycian fields he croft,
And fields that border on the Lycian coast;
A river here he view'd fo lovely bright,
It shew'd the bottom in a fairer light,
Nor kept a fand conceal'd from human fight:
The ftream produc'd nor flimy ooze, nor weeds,
Nor miry rushes, nor the spiky reeds;
But dealt enriching moisture all around,

The fruitful banks with chearful verdure crown'd,
And kept the spring eternal on the ground.

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A nymph prefides, nor practis'd in the chace,
Nor skilful at the bow, nor at the race;
Of all the blue-eyed daughters of the main,
The only ftranger to Diana's train:

Her fifters often, as 'tis said, wou'd cry,

Fy, Salmacis, what always idle! fy;

"Or take thy quiver, or thy arrows feize,
"And mix the toils of hunting with thy ease."
Nor quiver fhe nor arrows e'er would seize,
Nor mix the toils of hunting with her ease.
But oft would bathe her in the crystal tide,
Oft with a comb her dewy locks divide;
Now in the limpid streams she view'd her face,
And drefs'd her image in the floating glafs:
On beds of leaves fhe now repos'd her limbs,
Now gather'd flowers that grew about her streams;
And then by chance was gathering, as she stood
To view the boy, and long for what she view'd.

Fain would she meet the youth with hafty feet,
She fain would meet him, but refus'd to meet
Before her looks were fet with nicest care,
And well deferv'd to be reputed fair.

"Bright youth," fhe cries," whom all thy features prove
"A god, and, if a god, the god of love;
"But if a mortal, bleft thy nurse's breast:

"Bleft are thy parents, and thy fisters bleft; "But oh how bleft! how more than blest thy bride, "Ally'd in blifs, if any yet ally'd.

"If so, let mine the ftol'n enjoyments be; "If not, behold a willing bride in me."

The boy knew nought of love, and touch'd with fhame,
He ftrove, and blusht, but still the blush became;
In rifing blushes still fresh beauties rofe;

The funny fide of fruit fuch blushes shows,
And fuch the moon, when all her filver white
Turns in eclipses to a ruddy light.

The nymph ftill begs, if not a nobler bliss,
A cold falute at least, a fifter's kifs :
And now prepares to take the lovely boy
Between her arms. He, innocently coy,
Replies, " Or leave me to myself alone,
"You rude uncivil nymph, or I'll be gone."
"Fair ftranger then," fays fhe," it shall be fo;"
And, for the fear'd his threat, fhe feign'd to go;
But, hid within a covert's neighbouring green,
She kept him ftill in fight, herself unseen.
The boy now fancies all the danger o'er,
And innocently sports about the shore;
Playful and wanton to the stream he trips,
And dips his foot, and shivers as he dips.
The coolness pleas'd him, and with eager haste
His airy garments on the banks he caft;
His godlike features, and his heavenly hue,
And all his beauties, were expos'd to view.
His naked limbs the nymph with rapture spies,
While hotter paffions in her bofom rife,
Flush in her cheeks, and sparkle in her eyes.
She longs, fhe burns to clasp him in her arms,
And looks and fighs, and kindles at his charms.
Now all undrest upon the banks he stood,
And clapt his fides, and leapt into the flood:

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