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Rife, wretched widow, rife, nor undeplor'd
Permit my ghost to pafs the Stygian ford:
Butrife, prepar'd, in black, to mourn thy perish'd lord.
Thus faid the player-god; and adding art
Of voice and gefture, fo perform'd his part,
She thought (fo like her love the fhade appears)
That Ceyx fpake the words, and Ceyx fhed the tears.
She groan'd, her inward foul with grief oppreft,
She figh'd, fhe wept; and fleeping beat her breast:
Then ftretch'd her arms t'embrace his body bare,
Her clasping arms inclose but empty air:
At this not yet awake fhe cry'd, Oh stay,
One is our fate, and common is our way!
So dreadful was the dream, fo loud fhe spoke,
That starting fudden up, the flumber broke;
Then caft her eyes around in hope to view
Her vanifh'd lord, and find the vifion true:
For now the maids, who waited her commands,
Ran in with lighted tapers in their hands.

Tir'd with the fearch, not finding what the feeks,
With cruel blows the 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 caufe; with louder cries
She profecutes her griefs, and thus replies.
No more Alcyone, fhe fuffer'd death

With her lov'd lord, when Ceyx loft his breath:
No flatt'ry, no falfe comfort, give me none,
My fhipwreck'd Ceyx is for ever gone;
I faw, I faw him manifest in view,

His voice, his figure, and his geftures knew
His luftre loft, and ev'ry living grace,

Yet I retain'd the features of his face;

Tho' with pale cheeks, wet beard, and dropping hair, None but my Ceyx could appear so fair :

I would have strain'd him with a strict embrace,
But thro' my arms he flipt, and vanish'd from the place:
There, ev'n juft there he stood; and as fhe fpoke,
Where last the spectre was, fhe caft her look :
Fain would fhe hope, and gaz'd upon the ground
If any printed footsteps might be found.

Then figh'd and faid; This I too well foreknew, And my prophetic fear prefag'd too true:

'Twas what I begg'd, when with a bleeding heart
I took my leave, and suffer'd thee to part,
Or I to go along, or thou to stay,

Never, ah never to divide our way!

Happier for me, that all our hours affign'd
Together we had liv'd; ev'n not in death disjoin'd!
So had my Ceyx ftill been living here,
Or with my Ceyx I had perish'd there:
Now I die abfent, in the vaft profound;
And me without myself the feas have drown'd:
The ftorms were not fo cruel; fhould I ftrive
To lengthen life, and fuch a grief furvive;
But neither will I strive, nor wretched thee
In death forfake, but keep thee company.
If not one common fepulchre 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 fighs come rushing in betwixt her words,
And flopt her tongue; but what her tongue deny'd,
Soft tears and groans, and dumb complaints fupply'd.
'Twas morning; to the port she takes her way,
And stands upon the margin of the sea :
That place, that very spot of ground fhe fought,
Or thither by her deftiny was brought,

Where

Where laft he stood: and while fhe fadly faid,
'Twas here he left me, ling'ring here delay'd
His parting kiss; and there his anchors weigh'd;
Thus fpeaking, while her thoughts past actions trace,
And call to mind, admonish'd by the place,
Sharp at her utmoft ken fhe caft her eyes,
And fomewhat floating from afar descries ;
It seem'd a corps adrift, to distant fight,
But at a distance who could judge aright?
It wafted nearer yet, and then she knew
That what before she but furmis'd, was true:
A corps it was, but whofe it was, unknown,
Yet mov'd, howe'er, fhe made the cafe her own :
Took the bad omen of a fhipwreck'd man,
As for a ftranger wept, and thus began.

Poor wretch, on ftormy feas to lose thy life,
Unhappy thou, but more thy widow'd wife!
At this the paus'd; for now the flowing tide
Had brought the body nearer to the side:
The more she looks, the more her fears increase,
At nearer fight; and she's herself the lefs:
Now driv'n afhore, and at her feet it lies,
She knows too much, in knowing whom she fees;
Her husband's corps ; at this fhe loudly fhrieks,
'Tis he, 'tis he, fhe cries, and tears her cheeks,
Her hair, her veft, and stooping to the fands,
About his neck she caft her trembling hands,
And is it thus, O dearer than my life,
Thus, thus return'ft thou to thy longing wife!
She faid, and to the neighb'ring mole she strode,
(Rais'd there to break th' incurfions of the flood ;)
Headlong from hence to plunge herself she springs,
But fhoots along supported on her wings;

A bird new-made about the banks fhe plies,
Not far from fhore; and fhort excurfions tries;

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Nor feeks in air her humble flight to raise,
Content to fkim the furface of the feas;
Her bill, tho' flender, fends a creaking noise,
And imitates a lamentable voice :

Now lighting where the bloodlefs body lies,
She with a fun'ral note renews her cries.
At all her ftretch her little wings she spread,
And with her feather'd arms embrac'd the dead:
Then flickering to his pallid lips, she strove
To print a kiss, the last effay of love :
Whether the vital touch reviv'd the dead,
Or that the moving waters rais'd his head
To meet the kiss, the vulgar doubt alone;
For fure a prefent miracle was shown.
The Gods their shapes to winter-birds translate,
But both obnoxious to their former fate.
Their conjugal affection ftill is ty'd,

And ftill the mournful race is multiply'd;
They bill, they tread; Alcyone comprefs'd
Seven days fits brooding on her floating neft :
A wintry queen her fire at length is kind,
Calms ev'ry ftorm, and hufhes ev'ry wind:
Prepares his empire for his daughter's cafe,
And for his hatching nephews fmooths the feas,

ESACUS

ESACUS transformed into a Cormorant.

From the Eleventh Book of

OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

Hefe fome old man fees wanton in the air,

TH

And praises the unhappy conftant pair.

Then to his friend the long-neck'd Corm'rant shows,
The former tale reviving others woes:

That fable bird, he cries, which cuts the flood
With flender legs, was once of royal blood;
His ancestors from mighty Tros proceed,
The brave Laomedon, and Ganymede,
(Whose beauty tempted Jove to fteal the boy)
And Priam, hapless prince! who fell with Troy:
Himself was Hector's brother, and (had fate
But giv'n this hopeful youth a longer date)
Perhaps had rival'd warlike Hector's worth,
Tho' on the mother's fide of meaner birth;
Fair Alyxothoé, a country maid,

Bare facus by ftealth in Ida's fhade.
He fled the noify town, and pompous court,
Lov'd the lone hills, and fimple rural fport,
And feldom to the city would refort.
Yet he no ruftic clownishness profest,
Nor was foft love a stranger to his breast:
The youth had long the nymph Hefperia woo'd,
Oft thro' the thicket, or the mead pursu'd :
Her haply on her father's bank he spy'd,
While fearless fhe her filver treffes dry'd;
Away she fled not ftags with half fuch speed,
Before the prowling wolf, fcud o'er the mead ;
Not ducks, when they the fafer flood forfake,
Purfu'd by hawks, fo fwift regain the lake.

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