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The lovely babe was born with every grace:
Ev'n envy must have praised so fair a face:
Such was his form, as painters, when they show
Their utmost art, on naked loves bestow:
And that their arms no difference might betray,
Give him a bow, or his from Cupid take away.
Time glides along, with undiscover'd haste,
The future but a length behind the past:
So swift are years: the babe, whom just before
His grandsire got, and whom his sister bore;
The drop, the thing which late the tree inclosed,
And late the yawning bark to life exposed;
A babe, a boy, a beauteous youth appears ;
And lovelier than himself at riper years.
Now to the queen of love he gave desires,
And, with her pains, revenged his mother's fires.

CEYX AND ALCYONE.

OUT OF THE ELEVENTH BOOK OF

OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

CONNECTION OF THIS FABLE WITH THE FORMER.

385

Cevx, the son of Lucifer (the morning star) and king of Trachin, in Thessaly, was married to Alcyone, daughter to Eolus, god of the winds. Both the husband and the wife loved each other with an entire affection. Dædalion, the elder brother of Ceyx, whom he succeeded, having been turned into a falcon by Apollo, and Chione, Dædalion's daughter, slain by Diana, Ceyx prepares a ship to sail to Claros, there to consult the oracle of Apollo, and (as Ovid seems to intimate) to enquire how the anger of the gods might be atoned.

THESE prodigies affect the pious prince,

But, more perplex'd with those that happen'd since,

He purposes to seek the Clarian god,
Avoiding Delphos, his more famed abode;
Since Phlegian robbers made unsafe the road.
Yet could not he from her he loved so well,
The fatal voyage, he resolved, conceal :
But when she saw her lord prepared to part,
A deadly cold ran shivering to her heart:
Her faded cheeks are changed to boxen hue,
And in her eyes the tears are ever new:
She thrice essay'd to speak; her accents hung,
And faltering died unfinish'd on her tongue,
Or vanish'd into sighs: with long delay
Her voice return'd; and found the wonted
Tell me, my lord, she said, what fault unknown
Thy once beloved Alcyone has done?
Whither, ah, whither is thy kindness gone!
Can Ceyx then sustain to leave his wife,
And unconcern'd forsake the sweets of life?
What can thy mind to this long journey move,
Or need'st thou absence to renew thy love?
Yet, if thou goest by land, though grief possess
My soul ev'n then, my fears will be the less.
But ah! be warn'd to shun the watery way,
The face is frightful of the stormy sea.

way.

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For late I saw adrift disjointed planks,
And empty tombs erected on the banks.
Nor let false hopes to trust betray thy mind,
Because my sire in caves constrains the wind,
Can with a breath a clamorous rage appease,
They fear his whistle, and forsake the seas;
Not so, for, once indulged, they sweep the main,
Deaf to the call, or, hearing, hear in vain;
But bent on mischief bear the waves before,
And not content with seas insult the shore;
When ocean, air, and earth, at once engage,
And rooted forests fly before their rage:
At once the clashing clouds to battle move,
And lightnings run across the fields above:
I know them well, and mark'd their rude comport,
While yet a child, within my father's court:
In times of tempest they command alone,
And he but sits precarious on the throne:
The more I know, the more my fears augment, 45
And fears are oft prophetic of the event.
But if not fears, or reasons will prevail,
If fate has fix'd thee obstinate to sail,
Go not without thy wife, but let me bear
My part of danger with an equal share,
And present suffer what I only fear:
Then o'er the bounding billows shall we fly,
Secure to live together, or to die.

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These reasons moved her starlike husband's heart.
But still he held his purpose to depart :
For as he loved her equal to his life,
He would not to the seas expose his wife;
Nor could be wrought his voyage to refrain,
But sought by arguments to soothe her pain;
Nor these avail'd; at length he lights on one,
With which so difficult a cause he won :
My love, so short an absence cease to fear,
For, by my father's holy flame, I swear,
Before two moons their orb with light adorn,
If Heaven allow me life, I will return.

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This promise of so short a stay prevails:
He soon equips the ship, supplies the sails,
And gives the word to launch; she trembling
views

This pomp of death, and parting tears renews :
Last, with a kiss, she took a long farewell,
Sigh'd, with a sad presage, and swooning fell.
While Ceyx seeks delays, the lusty crew,
Raised on their banks, their oars in order drew
To their broad breasts, the ship with fury flew.
The queen, recover'd, rears her humid eyes,
And first her husband on the poop espies,
Shaking his hand at distance on the main:
She took the sign, and shook her hand again.
Still as the ground recedes, retracts her view
With sharpen'd sight, till she no longer knew
The much-loved face; that comfort lost supplies
With less, and with the galley feeds her eyes;
The galley borne from view by rising gales,
She follow'd with her sight the flying sails:
When ev'n the flying sails were seen no more,
Forsaken of all sight, she left the shore.

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This seen, the master soon began to cry, Strike, strike the top-sail; let the mainsheet fly, And furl your sails. The winds repel the sound, And in the speaker's mouth the speech is drown'd. Yet of their own accord, as danger taught, Each in his way, officiously they wrought; Some stow their oars, or stop the leaky sides. Another bolder yet the yard bestrides, And folds the sails; a fourth, with labour, laves The intruding seas, and waves ejects on waves. In this confusion while their work they ply, The winds augment the winter of the sky, And wage intestine wars; the suffering seas Are toss'd, and mingled as their tyrants please. The master would command, but, in despair Of safety, stands amazed with stupid care, Nor what to bid, or what forbid, he knows, The ungovern'd tempest to such fury grows; Vain is his force, and vainer is his skill; With such a concourse comes the flood of ill: 120 The cries of men are mix'd with rattling shrouds; Seas dash on seas, and clouds encounter clouds: At once from east to west, from pole to pole, The forky lightnings flash, the roaring thunders roll. Now waves on waves ascending scale the skies, And, in the fires above, the water fries: When yellow sands are sifted from below, The glittering billows give a golden show: And when the fouler bottom spews the black, The Stygian dye the tainted waters take: Then frothy white appear the flatted seas, And change their colour, changing their disease. Like various fits the Trachin vessel finds, And now sublime she rides upon the winds; As from a lofty summit looks from high, And from the clouds beholds the nether sky; Now from the depth of hell they lift their sight, And at a distance see superior light: The lashing billows make a loud report, And beat her sides, as battering-rams a fort: Or as a lion, bounding in his way, With force augmented bears against his prey, Sidelong to seize: or, unappall'd with fear, Springs on the toils, and rushes on the spear: So seas impell'd by winds with added power Assault the sides, and o'er the hatches tower. The planks, their pitchy coverings wash'd away, Now yield; and now a yawning breach display: The roaring waters, with a hostile tide, Rush through the ruins of her gaping side. Meantime in sheets of rain the sky descends, And ocean, swell'd with waters, upwards tends, One rising, falling one; the heavens and sea Meet at their confines, in the middle way: The sails are drunk with showers, and drop with rain, Sweet waters mingle with the briny main. No star appears to lend his friendly light: Darkness and tempest make a double night. But flashing fires disclose the deep by turns, And while the lightnings blaze, the water burns. Now all the waves their scatter'd force unite,16 And as a soldier, foremost in the fight, Makes way for others, and, an host alone, Still presses on, and urging gains the town;

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So while the invading billows come a-breast,
The hero tenth, advanced before the rest,
Sweeps all before him with impetuous sway,
And from the walls descends upon the prey;
Part following enter, part remain without,
With envy hear their fellows' conquering shout.
And mount on others' backs, in hope to share 177
The city, thus become the seat of war.

An universal cry resounds aloud,
The sailors run in heaps, a helpless crowd;
Art fails, and courage falls, no succour near;
As many waves, as many deaths appear.

One weeps, and yet despairs of late relief;
One cannot weep, his fears congeal his grief;
But, stupid, with dry eyes expects his fate.
One with loud shrieks laments his lost estate,
And calls those happy whom their funerals wait.
This wretch with prayers and vows the gods im-
plores,

And ev'n the skies he cannot see adores.
That other on his friends his thoughts bestows,
His careful father, and his faithful spouse.
The covetous worldling in his anxious mind
Thinks only on the wealth he left behind.

All Ceyx his Alcyone employs,
For her he grieves, yet in her absence joys:
His wife he wishes, and would still be near,
Not her with him, but wishes him with her:
Now with last looks he seeks his native shore,
Which fate has destined him to see no more;
He sought, but in the dark tempestuous night
He knew not whither to direct his sight.
So whirl the seas, such darkness blinds the sky,
That the black night receives a deeper dye.

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The giddy ship ran round; the tempest tore Her mast, and over-board the rudder bore. One billow mounts; and with a scornful brow, 200 Proud of her conquest gain'd, insults the waves below;

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Nor lighter falls, than if some giant tore
Pindus and Athos with the freight they bore,
And toss'd on seas: press'd with the ponderous blow
Down sinks the ship within the abyss below:
Down with the vessel sink into the main
The many, never more to rise again.
Some few on scatter'd planks with fruitless care
Lay hold, and swim, but, while they swim, despair.
Ev'n he, who late a sceptre did command,
Now grasps a floating fragment in his hand,
And while he struggles on the stormy main,
Invokes his father, and his wife, in vain;
But yet his consort is his greater care;
Alcyone he names amidst his prayer,
Names as a charm against the waves and wind;
Most in his mouth, and ever in his mind:
Tired with his toil, all hopes of safety past,
From prayers to wishes he descends at last;
That his dead body, wafted to the sands,
Might have its burial from her friendly hands.
As oft as he can catch a gulp of air,
And peep above the seas, he names the fair;
And ev'n when plunged beneath, on her he raves,
Murmuring Alcyone below the waves:

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At last a falling billow stops his breath,
Breaks o'er his head, and whelms him underneath.
Bright Lucifer unlike himself appears

That night, his heavenly form obscured with tears;

And since he was forbid to leave the skies,
He muffled with a cloud his mournful eyes.

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She fumed the temples with an odorous flame,
And oft before the sacred altars came,
To pray for him, who was an empty name.
All powers implored, but far above the rest,
To Juno she her pious vows address'd,
Her much-loved lord from perils to protect,
And safe o'er seas his voyage to direct:
Then pray'd that she might still possess his heart,
And no pretending rival share a part.
This last petition heard of all her prayer,
The rest, dispersed by winds, were lost in air.
But she, the goddess of the nuptial bed,
Tired with her vain devotions for the dead,
Resolved the tainted hand should be repell'd,
Which incense offer'd, and her altar held:
Then Iris thus bespoke: Thou faithful maid,
By whom the queen's commands are well convey'd,
Haste to the house of Sleep, and bid the god,
Who rules the night by visions with a nod,
Prepare a dream, in figure and in form
Resembling him who perish'd in the storm:
This form before Alcyone present,

To make her certain of the sad event.

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Indued with robes of various hue she flies, And flying draws an arch, (a segment of the skies:) Then leaves her bending bow, and from the steep Descends to search the silent house of Sleep.

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Near the Cimmerians, in his dark abode, Deep in a cavern, dwells the drowsy god; Whose gloomy mansion nor the rising sun, Nor setting, visits, nor the lightsome noon : But lazy vapours round the region fly, Perpetual twilight, and a doubtful sky; No crowing cock does there his wings display, Nor with his horny bill provoke the day: Nor watchful dogs, nor the more wakeful geese, Disturb with nightly noise the sacred peace: Nor beast of nature, nor the tame, are nigh, Nor trees with tempests rock'd, nor human cry; But safe repose, without an air of breath, Dwells here, and a dumb quiet next to death. An arm of Lethe, with a gentle flow,

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Arising upwards from the rock below,
The palace moats, and o'er the pebbles creeps,
And with soft murmurs calls the coming sleeps:
Around its entry nodding poppies grow,
And all cool simples that sweet rest bestow;
Night from the plants their sleepy virtue drains,
And passing sheds it on the silent plains:
No door there was the unguarded house to keep,
On creaking hinges turn'd, to break his sleep.

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But in the gloomy court was raised a bed, Stuff'd with black plumes, and on an ebon stead: Black was the covering too, where lay the god, And slept supine, his limbs display'd abroad: 295 About his head fantastic visions fly, Which various images of things supply,

And mock their forms; the leaves on trees not more, Nor bearded ears in fields, nor sands upon the shore.

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To whom the goddess thus: O sacred Rest, Sweet pleasing Sleep, of all the Powers the best! O peace of mind, repairer of decay, Whose balms renew the limbs to labours of the day, Care shuns thy soft approach, and sullen flies away! Adorn a dream, expressing human form, The shape of him who suffer'd in the storm, And send it flitting to the Trachin court, The wreck of wretched Ceyx to report: Before his queen bid the pale spectre stand, Who begs a vain relief at Juno's hand. She said, and scarce awake her eyes could keep, Unable to support the fumes of sleep: But fled, returning by the way she went, And swerved along her bow with swift ascent. The god, uneasy till he slept again, Resolved at once to rid himself of pain; And, though against his custom, call'd aloud, Exciting Morpheus from the sleepy crowd: Morpheus of all his numerous train express'd The shape of man, and imitated best; The walk, the words, the gesture could supply, The habit mimic, and the mien belie; Plays well, but all his action is confined; Extending not beyond our human kind. Another birds, and beasts, and dragons apes, And dreadful images, and monster shapes: This dæmon, Icelos, in heaven's high hall The gods have named; but men Phobeter call: A third is Phantasus, whose actions roll On meaner thoughts, and things devoid of soul; Earth, fruits, and flowers, he represents in dreams, And solid rocks unmoved, and running streams: 340 These three to kings and chiefs their scenes display, The rest before the ignoble commons play: Of these the chosen Morpheus is dispatch'd: Which done, the lazy monarch, overwatch'd, Down from his propping elbow drops his head, Dissolved in sleep, and shrinks within his bed. 346 Darkling the dæmon glides, for flight prepared, So soft that scarce his fanning wings are heard. To Trachin, swift as thought, the flitting shade Through air his momentary journey made: Then lays aside the steerage of his wings, Forsakes his proper form, assumes the king's; And pale as death, despoil'd of his array, Into the queen's apartment takes his way, And stands before the bed at dawn of day: Unmoved his eyes, and wet his beard appears; And shedding vain, but seeming real tears; The briny water dropping from his hairs; Then staring on her, with a ghastly look And hollow voice, he thus the queen bespoke: 360 Know'st thou not me? Not yet, unhappy wife? Or are my features perish'd with my life? Look once again, and for thy husband lost, Lo! all that's left of him, thy husband's ghost! Thy vows for my return were all in vain; The stormy south o'ertook us in the main; And never shalt thou see thy loving lord again. Bear witness, Heaven, I call'd on thee in death, And while I call'd, a billow stopp'd my breath:

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So dreadful was the dream, so loud she spoke, 35
That starting sudden up, the slumber broke;
Then cast her eyes around, in hope to view
Her vanish'd lord, and find the vision true:
For now the maids, who waited her commands,
Ran in with lighted tapers in their hands.
Tired with the search, not finding what she seeks,
With cruel blows she pounds her blubber'd cheeks;
Then from her beaten breast the linen tare,
And cut the golden caul that bound her hair:
Her nurse demands the cause; with louder cries
She prosecutes her griefs, and thus replies:

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No more Alcyone, she suffer'd death With her loved lord, when Ceyx lost his breath : No flattery, no false comfort, give me none, My shipwreck'd Ceyx is for ever gone;

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I saw, I saw him manifest in view,

ping hair,

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And call to mind, admonish'd by the place,
Sharp at her utmost ken she cast her eyes,
And somewhat floating from afar descries;
It seem'd a corpse adrift, to distant sight,
But at a distance who could judge aright?
It wafted nearer yet, and then she knew
That what before she but surmised, was true:
A corpse it was, but whose it was, unknown,
Yet moved, howe'er, she made the case her own:
Took the bad omen of a shipwreck'd man,
As for a stranger wept, and thus began:

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Poor wretch, on stormy seas to lose thy life, Unhappy thou, but more thy widow'd wife! At this she paused; for now the flowing tide Had brought the body nearer to the side: The more she looks, the more her fears increase At nearer sight; and she's herself the less: Now driven ashore, and at her feet it lies, She knows too much, in knowing whom she sees: Her husband's corpse; at this she loudly shrieks, "Tis he, 'tis he, she cries, and tears her cheeks, Her hair, her vest, and stooping to the sands, About his neck she cast her trembling hands. And is it thus, O dearer than my life, Thus, thus return'st thou to thy longing wife!

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None but my Ceyx could appear so fair:

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Or with my Ceyx I had perish'd there:
Now I die absent, in the vast profound;
And me without myself the seas have drown'd:
The storms were not so cruel; should I strive 425
To lengthen life, and such a grief survive;
But neither will I strive, nor wretched thee
In death forsake, but keep thee company.
If not one common sepulchre contains
Our bodies, or one urn our last remains,
Yet Ceyx and Alcyone shall join,
Their names remember'd in one common line.
No farther voice her mighty grief affords,
For sighs come rushing in betwixt her words,

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Now lighting where the bloodless body lies,
She with a funeral note renews her cries.
At all her stretch her little wings she spread,
And with her feather'd arms embraced the dead:
Then flickering to his pallid lips, she strove
To print a kiss, the last essay of love:
Whether the vital touch revived the dead,
Or that the moving waters raised his head
To meet the kiss, the vulgar doubt alone;
For sure a present miracle was shown.
The gods their shapes to winter-birds translate,
But both obnoxious to their former fate.
Their conjugal affection still is tied,
And still the mournful race is multiplied;
They bill, they tread; Alcyone compress'd
Seven days sits brooding on her floating nest:
A wintry queen: her sire at length is kind,
Calms every storm, and hushes every wind:
Prepares his empire for his daughter's ease,
And for his hatching nephews smooths the seas

451

ESACUS TRANSFORMED INTO A CORMORANT.

FROM THE ELEVENTH BOOK OF

OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

THESE Some old man sees wanton in the air,
And praises the unhappy constant pair.
Then to his friend the long-neck'd cormorant
shows,

The former tale reviving others' woes:

That sable bird, he cries, which cuts the flood
With slender legs, was once of royal blood;
His ancestors from mighty Tros proceed,
The brave Laomedon, and Ganymede,
(Whose beauty tempted Jove to steal the boy)
And Priam, hapless prince! who fell with Troy:
Himself was Hector's brother, and had fate
But given this hopeful youth a longer date,
Perhaps had rivall'd warlike Hector's worth,
Though on the mother's side of meaner birth;
Fair Alyxothoé, a country maid,
Bare Esacus by stealth in Ida's shade.
He fled the noisy town, and pompous court,
Loved the lone hills, and simple rural sport,
And seldom to the city would resort.
Yet he no rustic clownishness profess'd,
Nor was soft love a stranger to his breast:
The youth had long the nymph Hesperia woo'd,
Oft through the thicket, or the mead pursued:

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Her haply on her father's bank he spied,
While fearless she her silver tresses dried;
Away she fled: not stags with half such speed,
Before the prowling wolf, scud o'er the mead;
Not ducks, when they the safer flood forsake,
Pursued by hawks, so swift regain the lake.
As fast he follow'd in the hot career;
Desire the lover wing'd, the virgin fear.
A snake unseen now pierced her heedless foot;
Quick through the veins the venom'd juices shoot:
She fell, and 'scaped by death his fierce pursuit.
Her lifeless body, frighted, he embraced,
And cried, Not this I dreaded, but thy haste:
Oh, had my love been less, or less thy fear!
The victory thus bought is far too dear.
Accursed snake! yet I more cursed than he!
He gave the wound; the cause was given by me.
Yet none shall say, that unrevenged you died.
He spoke; then climb'd a cliff's o'er-hanging side,
And, resolute, leap'd on the foaming tide.
Thetys received him gently on the wave;
The death he sought denied, and feathers gave.
Debarr'd the surest remedy of grief,

And forced to live, he cursed the unask'd relief.
Then on his airy pinions upward flies,
And at a second fall successless tries;
The downy plume a quick descent denies.
Enraged, he often dives beneath the wave,
And there in vain expects to find a grave,
His ceaseless sorrow for the unhappy maid
Meagred his look, and on his spirits prey'd.
Still near the sounding deep he lives; his name
From frequent diving and emerging came.

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CONNECTION TO THE END OF THE ELEVENTH BOOK.

Asacus, the son of Priam, loving a country life, forsakes the court: living obscurely, he falls in love with a nymph; who, flying from him, was killed by a serpent; for grief of this, he would have drowned himself; but, by the pity of the gods, is turned into a Cormorant. Priam, not hearing of Esacus, believes him to be dead, and raises a tomb to preserve his memory. By this transition, which is one of the finest in all Ovid, the poet naturally falls into the story of the Trojan war, which is summed up, in the present book, but so very briefly, in many places, that Ovid seems more short than Virgil, contrary to his usual style. Yet the House of Fame, which is here described, is one of the most beautiful pieces in the whole Metamorphoses. The fight of Achilles and Cygnus, and the fray betwixt the Lapitha and Centaurs, yield to no other part of this poet: and particularly the loves and death of Cyllarus and Hylonome, the male and female Centaur, are wonderfully moving.

PRIAM, to whom the story was unknown,
As dead, deplored his metamorphosed son:
A cenotaph his name and title kept,

And Hector round the tomb, with all his brothers,

wept.