Art hid with art, so well perform'd the cheat,
It caught the carver with his own deceit :
He knows 'tis madness, yet he must adore,
And still the more he knows it, loves the more.
The flesh, or what so seems, he touches oft,

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Which feels so smooth that he believes it soft;

Fired with this thought, at once he strain'd the breast, And on the lips a loving kiss impress'd.

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'Tis true, the harden'd breast resists the gripe,

And the cold lips return a kiss unripe:

But when, retiring back, he look'd again,

To think it ivory was a thought too mean;

With flattery now he seeks her mind to move,

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And now with gifts (the powerful bribes of love):
He furnishes her closet first, and fills

The crowded shelves with rarities of shells;

Adds orient pearls, which from the conchs he drew,
And all the sparkling stones of various hue;
And parrots, imitating human tongue,
And singing birds, in silver cages hung;

And every fragrant flower and odorous green

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Were sorted well, with lumps of amber laid be

tween:

Rich fashionable robes her person deck,

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Pendants her ears, and pearls adorn her neck:

Her taper'd fingers too with rings are graced,
And an embroider'd zone surrounds her slender waist.
Thus like a queen array'd, so richly dress'd,

Beauteous she show'd, but unadorn'd the best.
Then from the floor he raised a royal bed,
With coverings of Sidonian purple spread.

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The feast of Venus came, a solemn day,
To which the Cypriots due devotion pay;
With gilded horns the milk-white heifers led,
Slaughter'd before the sacred altars bled.

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Pygmalion offering, first approach'd the shrine, And then with prayers implored the powers divine: Almighty gods, if all we mortals want,

If all we can require, be yours to grant,

Make this fair statue mine, he would have said, But changed his words for shame, and only pray'd, 'Give me the likeness of my ivory maid.'

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The golden goddess, present at the prayer, Well knew he meant the inanimated fair, And gave the sign of granting his desire;

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For thrice in cheerful flames ascends the fire.
The youth, returning to his mistress hies,
And, impudent in hope, with ardent eyes,
And beating breast, by the dear statue lies.
He kisses her white lips, renews the bliss,
And looks, and thinks they redden at the kiss;
He thought them warm before, nor longer stays,
But next his hand on the hard substance lays;
Hard as it was, beginning to relent,

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It seem'd the block beneath his fingers bent:

He felt again, his fingers made a print,

'Twas flesh, but flesh so firm, it rose against the dint:

The pleasing task he fails not to renew ;—
Soft, and more soft, at every touch it grew;
Like pliant wax, when chafing hands reduce
The former mass to form, and frame for use.
He would believe, but yet is still in pain,
And tries his argument of sense again,—

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Presses the pulse, and feels the leaping vein :

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Convinced, o'erjoy'd, his studied thanks and praise,

To her who made the miracle, he pays:

Then lips to lips he join'd; now freed from fear,
He found the savor of the kiss sincere.
At this the waken'd image oped her eyes,

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And view'd at once the light and lover with surprise.

The goddess, present at the match she made,
So bless'd the bed, such fruitfulness convey'd,
That ere ten months had sharpen'd either horn,
To crown their bliss, a lovely boy was born:
Paphos his name, who, grown to manhood, wall'd
The city Paphos, from the founder call'd.

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BY EUSDEN.

STORY OF VENUS AND ADONIS.

VENUS becomes enamored of young Adonis, whom she cautions against the pursuit of wild beasts, lest he should meet a premature death-The youth disregards this advice, and receives a mortal bite from a wild boar which he has wounded; and Venus, after lamenting his fate, changes him into a flower called anemone.

FOR Cytherea's lips while Cupid press'd,
He with a heedless arrow razed her breast:
The goddess felt it, and, with fury stung,

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The wanton mischief from her bosom flung:

Yet thought at first the danger slight; but found
The dart too faithful, and too deep the wound.
Fired with a mortal beauty, she disdains

To haunt the Idalian mount or Phrygian plains:
She seeks not Cnidos, nor her Paphian shrines,
Nor Amathus, that teems with brazen mines:
Ev'n heaven itself, with all its sweets unsought,
Adonis far a sweeter heaven is thought:
On him she hangs, and fonds with ev'ry art,
And never, never knows from him to part.
She whose soft limbs had only been display'd
On rosy beds, beneath the myrtle shade,

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Whose pleasing care was to improve each grace,
And add more charms to an unrivall'd face,

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Now buskin'd, like the virgin huntress, goes

Through woods, and pathless wilds, and mountain

snows:

With her own tuneful voice she joys to cheer

The panting hounds, that chase the flying deer:
She runs the labyrinth of fearful hares;

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But fearless beasts and dangerous prey forbears;
Hunts not the grinning wolf or foamy boar,
And trembles at the lion's hungry roar.

Thee too, Adonis, with a lover's care,

She warns, if warn'd, thou wouldst avoid the snare:
'To furious animals advance not nigh;

Fly those that follow, follow those that fly;
"Tis chance alone must the survivors save,
Whene'er brave spirits will attempt the brave.
O lovely youth! in harmless sports delight;

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Provoke not beasts, which, arm'd by Nature, fight:
For me, if not thyself, vouchsafe to fear;
Let not thy thirst of glory cost me dear.
Boars know not how to spare a blooming age;
No sparkling eyes can soothe the lion's rage:
Not all thy charms a savage breast can move,
Which have so deeply touch'd the queen of love
When bristled boars from beaten thickets spring,
In grinded tusks a thunderbolt they bring :
The daring hunters lions roused devour;
Vast is their fury, and as vast their power:
Cursed be their tawny race: if thou wouldst hear
What kindled thus my hate, then lend an ear;
The wondrous tale I will to thee unfold,
How the fell monsters rose from crimes of old:
But by long toils I faint. See! wide display'd,} »
A grateful poplar courts us with a shade;
The grassy turf, beneath, so verdant shows,
We may secure delightfully repose :'

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Perhaps thou mayst have heard a virgin's name, Who still in swiftness swiftest youths o'ercame. Wondrous! that female weakness should outdo A manly strength; the wonder yet is true. 'Twas doubtful if her triumphs in the field Did to her form's triumphant glories yield; Whether her face could with more ease decoy A crowd of lovers, or her feet destroy: For once Apollo she implored to show If courteous Fates a consort would allow.

'A consort brings thy ruin,' he replied:

O learn to want the pleasures of a bride!

Nor shalt thou want them to thy wretched cost,
And Atalanta living shall be lost.'

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With such a rueful fate the affrighted maid

Sought green recesses in the woodland glade;
Nor sighing suitors her resolves could move;
She bade them show their speed, to show their love.
He only who could conquer in the race

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Might hope the conquer'd virgin to embrace ;
While he whose tardy feet had lagg'd behind,
Was doom'd the sad reward of death to find.
Though great the prize, yet rigid the decree ;
But blind with beauty, who can rigor see?
Ev'n on these laws the fair they rashly sought,
And danger in excess of love forgot.

'There sat Hippomenes, prepared to blame In lovers such extravagance of flame.

And must,' he said, the blessings of a wife
Be dearly purchased by a risk of life ?'
But when he saw the wonders of her face,
And her limbs naked, springing to the race,
Her limbs, as exquisitely turn'd as mine,
Or, if a woman thou, might vie with thine,

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