Tereus, upon a throne of antique state
Loftily rais'd, before the banquet sate;
And, glutton like, luxuriously pleas'd,
With his own flesh his hungry maw appeas'd.
Nay, such a blindness o'er his senses falls,
That he for Itys to the table calls :
When Procne, now impatient to disclose
The joy that from her full revenge arose,
Cries out, in transports of a cruel mind,
'Within yourself your Itys you may find.'
Still at this puzzling answer, with surprise
Around the room he sends his curious eyes;
And, as he still inquir'd and call'd aloud,
Fierce Philomela, all besmear'd with blood,
Her hands with murder stain'd, her spreading hair
Hanging dishevell'd with a ghastly air,

Stepp'd forth, and flung full in the tyrant's face
The head of Itys, goary as it was:

Nor ever long'd so much to use her tongue,
And with a just reproach to vindicate her wrong.
The Thracian monarch from the table flings,
While with his cries the vaulted parlour rings;
His imprecations echo down to hell,

And rouse the snaky Furies from their Stygian cell.
One while he labours to disgorge his breast,
And free his stomach from the cursed feast;
Then, weeping o'er his lamentable doom,
He styles himself his son's sepulchral tomb.
Now, with drawn sabre and impetuous speed,
In close pursuit he drives Pandion's breed;
Whose nimble feet spring with so swift a force
Across the fields, they seem to wing their course.
And now on real wings themselves they raise,
And steer their airy flight by diff'rent ways;

One to the woodland's shady covert hies,
Around the smoky roof the other flies;
Whose feathers yet the marks of murder stain,
Where, stamp'd upon her breast, the crimson spots
remain.

Tereus, through grief, and haste to be reveng'd,
Shares the like fate, and to a bird is chang'd:
Fix'd on his head the crested plumes appear,
Long is his beak, and sharpen'd like a spear;
Thus arm'd, his looks his inward mind display,
And, to a lapwing turn'd, he fans his way.

Exceeding trouble for his children's fate, Shorten'd Pandion's days, and chang'd his date; Down to the shades below, with sorrow spent, An earlier unexpected ghost he went.

BOREAS IN LOVE.

Erectheus next the' Athenian sceptre sway'd,
Whose rule the state with joint consent obey'd;
So mix'd his justice with his valour flow'd,
His reign one scene of princely goodness show'd.
Four hopeful youths, as many females bright,
Sprung from his loins, and sooth'd him with delight.
Two of these sisters, of a lovelier air,

Excell'd the rest, though all the rest were fair.
Procris, to Cephalus in wedlock tied,

Bless'd the young sylvan with a blooming bride:
For Orithyia Boreas suffer'd pain,

For the coy maid sued long, but sued in vain; Tereus his neighbour, and his Thracian blood, Against the match a main objection stood; Which made his vows and all his suppliant love, Empty as air, and ineffectual prove.

But when he found his soothing flatteries fail, Nor saw his soft addresses could avail; Blustering with ire, he quickly has recourse To rougher arts, and his own native force. 'Tis well,' he said, ' such usage 6 is my due, When thus disguis'd by foreign ways I sue; When my stern airs and fierceness I disclaim, And sigh for love, ridiculously tame; When soft addresses foolishly I try, Nor my own stronger remedies apply. By force and violence I chiefly live, By them the louring stormy tempests drive: In foaming billows raise the hoary deep, Writhe knotted oaks, and sandy deserts sweep; Congeal the falling flakes of fleecy snow, And bruise with rattling hail the plains below. I and my brother winds, when join'd above, Through the waste champaign of the skies we rove, With such a boisterous full career engage,

That heaven's whole concave thunders at our rage. While, struck from nitrous clouds, fierce lightnings play,

Dart through the storm, and gild the gloomy day:
Or when, in subterraneous caverns pent,
My breath against the hollow earth is bent;
The quaking world above, and ghosts below,
My mighty power by dear experience know,
Tremble with fear, and dread the fatal blow;
This is the only cure to be applied,
Thus to Erectheus I should be állied;
And thus the scornful virgin should be woo'd,
Not by entreaty, but by force subdued.'

Boreas in passion spoke these huffing things, And as he spoke he shook his dreadful wings;

At which afar the shivering sea was fann'd,
And the wide surface of the distant land:
His dusty mantle o'er the hills he drew,
And swept the lowly valleys as he flew ;
Then, with his yellow wings embrac'd the maid,
And, wrapp'd in dusty clouds, far off convey'd.
The sparkling blaze of love's prevailing fire
Shone brighter as he flew, and flanı'd the higher.
And now the god, possess'd of his delight,
To northern Thrace pursued his airy flight,
Where the young ravish'd nymph became his bride,
And soon the luscious sweets of wedlock tried.

Two lovely twins, the' effect of this embrace,
Crown their soft labours, and their nuptials grace;
Who, like their mother, beautiful and fair,
Their father's strength and feather'd pinions share:
Yet these at first were wanting, as 'tis said,
And after, as they grew, their shoulders spread.
Zethes and Calaïs, the pretty twins,

Remain'd unfledg'd, while smooth their beardless

chins:

But when, in time, the budding silver down
Shaded their face, and on their cheeks was grown;
Two sprouting wings upon their shoulders sprung,
Like those in birds that veil the callow young.
Then as their age advanc'd, and they began
From greener youth to ripen into man,
With Jason's Argonauts they cross'd the seas,
Embark'd in quest of the fam'd golden fleece :
There, with the rest, the first frail vessel tried,
And boldly ventur'd on the swelling tide.

OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

BOOK VII.

TRANSLATED BY TATE AND STONESTREET.

THE STORY OE MEDEA AND JASON.

THE Argonauts now stem'd the foaming tide,
And to Arcadia's shore their course applied;
Where sightless Phineus spent his age in grief,
But Boreas' sons engage in his relief;
And those unwelcome guests, the odious race
Of Harpies, from the monarch's table chase.
With Jason then they greater toils sustain,
And Phasis' slimy banks at last they gain.
Here boldly they demand the golden prize
Of Scythia's king, who sternly thus replies:
'That mighty labours they must overcome,
Or sail their Argo thence unfreighted home.'

Meanwhile Medea, seiz'd with fierce desire,
By reason strives to quench the raging fire;
But strives in vain!

stands,

Some god,' she said, 'with

And reason's baffled counsel countermands.
What unseen power does this disorder move?
"Tis love-at least 'tis like what men call love.