Thither from green Tymolus they repair,
And leave the vineyards, their peculiar care;
Thither from fam'd Pactolus' golden stream,
Drawn by her art, the curious Naiads came.
Nor would the work, when finish'd, please so much,
As while she wrought to view each graceful touch;
Whether the shapeless wool in balls she wound,
Or with quick motion turn'd the spindle round,
Or with her pencil drew the neat design,
Pallas, her mistress, shone in every line.
This the proud maid with scornful air denies,
And even the goddess at her work defies;
Disowns her heavenly mistress every hour,
Nor asks her aid, nor deprecates her pow'r.
'Let us,' she cries, but to a trial come,
And if she conquers, let her fix my doom.'
The goddess then a beldame's form put on,
With silver hairs her hoary temples shone;
Prop'd by a staff she hobbles in her walk,
And tottering thus begins her old wives' talk.
'Young maid attend, nor stubbornly despise
The admonitions of the old and wise;
For age, though scorn'd, a ripe experience bears,
That golden fruit, unknown to blooming years:
Still may remotest fame your labours crown,
And mortals your superior genius own;
But to the goddess yield, and humbly meek
A pardon for your bold presumption seek;
The goddess will forgive.' At this the maid,
With passion fir'd, her gliding shuttle stay'd;
And darting vengeance with an angry look,
To Pallas in disguise thus fiercely spoke :-
"Thou doting thing, whose idle babbling tongue
But too well shows the plague of living long;
Hence, and reprove, with this your sage advice,
Your giddy daughter or your aukward niece;
Know, I despise your counsel, and am still
A woman, ever wedded to my will:
And if your skilful goddess better knows,
Let her accept the trial I propose.'
'She does,' impatient Pallas straight replies, And, cloth'd with heavenly light, sprung from her odd disguise.
The nymphs and virgins of the plain adore
The awful goddess, and confess her pow'r;
The maid alone stood unappall'd; yet show'd
A transient blush, that for a moment glow'd,
Then disappear'd; as purple streaks adorn
The opening beauties of the rosy morn,
Till Phoebus, rising prevalently bright,
Allays the tincture with his silver light.
Yet she persists, and, obstinately great,
In hopes of conquest hurries on her fate.
The goddess now the challenge waves no more,
Nor, kindly good, advises as before.
Straight to their posts appointed both repair,
And fix their threaded looms with equal care :
Around the solid beam the web is tied,
While hollow canes the parting warp divide;
Through which with nimble flight the shuttles
And for the woof prepare a ready way; [play,
The woof and warp unite press'd by the toothy
slay.
Thus both, their mantles button'd to their breast, Their skilful fingers ply with willing haste, And work with pleasure, while they cheer the eye With glowing purple of the Tyrian dye;
Or, justly intermixing shades with light,
Their colourings insensibly unite.
As when a shower transpierc'd with sunny rays
Its mighty arch along the heaven displays;
From whence a thousand different colours rise,
Whose fine transition cheats the clearest eyes;
So like the intermingled shading seems,
And only differs in the last extremes.
Then threads of gold both artfully dispose,
And as each part in just proportion rose,
Some antique fable in their work disclose.
Pallas in figures wrought the heavenly pow'rs,
And Mars's hill among the' Athenian tow'rs.
On lofty thrones twice six celestials sate,
Jove in the midst, and held their warm debate:
The subject weighty and well known to fame,
'From whom the city should receive its name.'
Each god by proper features was express'd,
Jove with majestic mien excell❜d the rest.
His three-fork'd mace the dewy sea-god shook,
And, looking sternly, smote the ragged rock ;
When from the stone leap'd forth a sprightly steed,
And Neptune claims the city for the deed.
Herself she blazons with a glittering spear, And crested helm that veil'd her braided hair, With shield and scaly breast-plate, implements
Struck with her pointed lance, the teeming earth
Seem'd to produce a new surprising birth;
When, from the glebe, the pledge of conquest sprung,
A tree pale-green with fairest olives hung.
And then, to let her giddy rival learn
What just rewards such boldness was to earn,
Four trials at each corner had their part,
Design'd in miniature, and touch'd with art.
Hamus in one, and Rhodopè of Thrace,
Transform'd to mountains, fill'd the foremost place;
Who claim'd the titles of the gods above,
And vainly us'd the epithets of Jove.
Another show'd where the Pigmæan dame,
Profaning Juno's venerable name,
Turn'd to an airy crane, descends from far,
And with her Pigmy subject wages war.
In a third part, the rage of heaven's great queen,
Display'd on proud Antigone, was seen;
Who with presumptuous boldness dar'd to vie,
For beauty, with the empress of the sky.
Ah! what avails her ancient princely race,
Her sire a king, and Troy her native place?
Now, to a noisy stork transform'd, she flies,
And with her whiten'd pinions cleaves the skies.
And in the last remaining part was drawn
Poor Cinyras, that seem'd to weep in stone;
Clasping the temple steps, he sadly mourn'd
His lovely daughters, now to marble turn'd.
With her own tree the finish'd piece is crown'd,
And wreaths of peaceful olive all the work surround.
Arachnè drew the fam'd intrigues of Jove,
Chang'd to a bull to gratify his love;
How through the briny tide, all foaming hoar,
Lovely Europa on his back he bore.
The sea seem'd waving, and the trembling maid
Shrunk up her tender feet, as if afraid;
And looking back on the forsaken strand,
To her companions wafts her distant hand.
Next she design'd Asteria's fabled rape,
When Jove assum'd a soaring eagle's shape:
And show'd how Leda lay supinely press'd,
Whilst the soft snowy swan sat hovering o'er her
How in a satyr's form the god beguil❜d, [breast.
When fair Antiopè with twins he fill❜d.
Then, like Amphitryon, but a real Jove,
In fair Alcmena's arms he cool'd his love.
In fluid gold to Danae's heart he came,
Ægina felt him in a lambent flame.
He took Mnemosynè in shepherd's make,
And for Deois was a speckled snake.
She made thee, Neptune, like a wanton steer
Pacing the meads for love of Arnè dear;
Next like a stream, thy burning flame to slake,
And like a ram for fair Bisaltis' sake.
Then Ceres in a steed your vigour. tried,
Nor could the mare the yellow goddess hide.
Next, to a fowl transform'd, you won by force
The snake-hair'd mother of the winged horse;
And in a dolphin's fishy form, subdued
Melantho sweet beneath the oozy flood.
All these the maid with lively features drew,
And open'd proper landscapes to the view.
There Phoebus, roving like a country swain,
Attunes his jolly pipe along the plain;
For lovely Isse's sake, in shepherd's weeds,
O'er pastures green his bleating flock he feeds.
There Bacchus, imag'd like the clustering grape,
Melting bedrops Erigone's fair lap;
And there old Saturn, stung with youthful heat,
Form'd like a stallion, rushes to the feat.
Fresh flowers which twists of ivy intertwine,
Mingling a running foliage, close the next design.
This the bright goddess, passionately mov'd,
With envy saw, yet inwardly approv'd.
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