Procris was there; too well the voice I knew,
And to the place with headlong horror flew;
Where I beheld her gasping on the ground,
In vain attempting from the deadly wound
To draw the dart, her love's dear fatal gift!
My guilty arms had scarce the strength to lift
The beauteous load; my silks and hair I tore
(If possible) to stanch the pressing gore;
For pity beg'd her keep her flitting breath,
And not to leave me guilty of her death.
While I intreat she fainted fast away,
And these few words had only strength to say:
"By all the sacred bonds of plighted love,
By all your reverence to the powers above,
By all that made me charming once appear,
By all the truth for which you held me dear,
And last by love, the cause through which I bleed,
Let Aura never to my bed succeed!"
I then perceiv'd the error of our fate,
And told it her, but found and told too late!
I felt her lower to my bosom fall,
And while her eyes had any sight at all,
On mine she fix'd them; in her pangs still press'd
My hand, and sigh'd her soul into my breast;
Yet, being undeceiv'd, resign'd her breath
Methought more cheerfully, and smil'd in death.'
With such concern the weeping hero told
This tale, that none who heard him could withhold
From melting into sympathising tears;
Till Eacus with his two sons appears;
Whom he commits, with their new-levied bands, To fortune's and so brave a general's hands.
TRANSLATED BY DRYDEN AND OTHERS.
THE STORY OF NISUS AND SCYLLA.
Now shone the morning-star in bright array,
To vanquish night, and usher in the day;
The wind veers southward, and moist clouds arise,
That blot with shades the blue meridian skies.
Cephalus feels with joy the kindly gales,
His new allies unfurl the swelling sails;
Steady their course, they cleave the yielding main,
And with a wish the' intended harbour gain.
Meanwhile king Minos, on the Attic strand,
Displays his martial skill, and wastes the land.
His army lies encamp'd upon the plains,
Before Alcathöe's walls where Nisus reigns;
On whose grey head a lock of purple hue,
The strength and fortune of his kingdom, grew.
Six moons were gone and pass'd, when still from
Victoria hover'd o'er the doubtful war. [far
So long, to both inclin'd, the' impartial maid
Between 'em both her equal wings display'd.
High on the walls, by Phœbus vocal made,
A turret of the palace rais'd its head;
And where the god his tuneful harp resign'd,
The sound within the stones still lay enshrin'd:
Hither the daughter of the purple king
Ascended oft, to hear its music ring ;
And, striking with a pebble, would release
The' enchanted notes, in times of happy peace.
But now,
from thence, the curious maid beheld
Rough feats of arms, and combats of the field :
And, since the siege was long, had learn'd the name
Of every chief, his character, and fame;
Their arms, their horse, and quiver she descried,
Nor could the dress of war the warrior hide.
Europa's son she knew above the rest,
And more than well became a virgin breast:
In vain the crested Morion veils his face,
She thinks it adds a more peculiar grace:
His ample shield, emboss'd with burnish'd gold,
Still makes the bearer lovelier to behold:
When the tough javelin, with a whirl, he sends,
His strength and skill the sighing maid commends;
Or, when he strains to draw the circling bow,
And his fine limbs a manly posture show;
Compar'd with Phœbus, he performs so well,
Let her be judge, and Minos shall excel.
But when the helm, put off, display'd to sight, And set his features in an open light;
When, vaulting to his seat, his steed he press'd,
Caparison'd in gold, and richly dress'd;
Himself in scarlet sumptuously array'd,
New passions rise, and fire the frantic maid.
'O happy spear!' she cries,' that feels his touch;
Nay, ev'n the reins he holds are bless'd too much.'
Oh! were it lawful, she could wing her way
Through the stern hostile troops without dismay;
Or throw her body to the distant ground,
And in the Cretan's happy camp be found.
Would Minos but desire it! she'd expose
Her native country to her country's foes;
Unbar the gates, the town with flames infest,
Or any thing that Minos should request.
And as she sate, and pleas'd her longing sight, Viewing the king's pavilion veil'd with white; Should joy, or grief,' she said, 'possess my breast, To see my country by a war oppress'd? I'm in suspense! for, though 'tis grief to know I love a man that is declar'd my foe; Yet, in my own despite, I must approve That lucky war, which brought the man I love. Yet, were I tender'd as a pledge of peace, The cruelties of war might quickly cease. Oh! with what joy I'd wear the chains he gave! A patient hostage, and a willing slave. Thou lovely object! if the nymph that bare Thy charming person, were but half so fair, Well might a god her virgin bloom desire, And with a rape indulge his amorous fire. Oh! had I wings to glide along the air, To his dear tent I'd fly, and settle there : There tell my quality, confess my flame, And grant him any dowry that he'd name. All, all I'd give; only my native land, My dearest country, should excepted stand; For, perish love, and all expected joys, Ere with so base a thought my soul complies! Yet, oft the vanquish'd some advantage find, When conquer'd by a noble, generous mind. Brave Minos justly has the war begun,
Fir'd with resentment for his murder'd son:
The righteous gods a righteous cause regard,
And will, with victory, his arms reward:
We must be conquer'd; and the captive's fate
Will surely seize us, though it seize us late.
Why then should love be idle; and neglect
What Mars, by arms and perils, will effect?
Oh! prince, I die, with anxious fear oppress'd,
Lest some rash hand should wound my charmer's
breast:
For, if they saw, no barbarous mind could dare
Against that lovely form to raise a spear.
But I'm resolv'd, and fix'd in this decree,
My father's country shall my dowry be:
Thus I prevent the loss of life and blood;
And, in effect, the action must be good.
Vain resolution! for, at every gate
The trusty centinels, successive, wait:
The keys my father keeps: ah! there's my grief;
"Tis he obstructs all hopes of my relief.
Gods! that this hated light I'd never seen!
Or, all my life, without a father been!
But gods we all may be; for those that dare
Are gods, and fortune's chiefest favours share.
The ruling powers a lazy prayer detest,
The bold adventurer succeeds the best.
What other maid, inspir'd with such a flame,
But would take courage, and abandon shame?
But would, though ruin should ensue, remove
Whate'er oppos'd, and clear the way to love!
This shall another's feeble passion dare,
While I sit tanie, and languish in despair?
No; for though fire and sword before me lay,
Impatient love through both should force its
way.
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