The powers of Heaven; except Ixion's son,
Who laugh'd at all the gods, believ'd in none;
He shook his impious head, and thus replies,
"These legends are no more than pious lies:
You attribute too much to heavenly sway,
To think they give us forms, and take away."
The rest, of better minds, their sense declar'd
Against this doctrine, and with horrour heard.
Then Lelex rose, an old experienc'd man,
And thus with sober gravity began:

Heaven's power is infinite: earth, air, and sea,
The manufacture mass, the making power obey:
By proof to clear your doubt; in Phrygian ground
Two neighbouring trees, with walls encompass d
round,

Stand on a moderate rise, with wonder shown,
One a hard oak, a softer linden one :

I saw the place and them, by Pittheus sent

To Phrygian realms, my grandsire's government.
Not far from thence is seen a lake, the haunt
Of coots, and of the fishing cormorant :

Here Jove with Hermes came; but in disguise
Of mortal men conceal'd their deities:
One laid aside his thunder, one his rod;
And many toilsome steps together trod;

For harbour at a thousand doors they knock'd,
Not one of all the thousand but was lock'd.
At last an hospitable house they found,
A homely shed; the roof, not far from ground,
Was thatch'd with reeds and straw together bound.
There Baucis and Philemon liv'd, and there
Had liv'd long married, and a happy pair:
Now old in love; though little was their store,
Inur'd to want, their poverty they bore,
Nor aim'd at wealth, professing to be poor,
For master or for servant here to call,
Was all alike, where only two were all.
Command was none, where equal love was paid,
Or rather both commanded, both obey'd.

"From lofty roofs the gods repuls'd before,
Now stooping, enter'd through the little door;
The man (their hearty welcome first express'd)
A common settle drew for either guest,
Inviting each his weary limbs to rest.
But ere they sat, officious Baucis lays
Two cushions stuff'd with straw, the seat to raise;
Coarse, but the best she had; then takes the load
Of ashes from the hearth, and spreads abroad
The living coals, and lest they should expire,
With leaves and barks she feeds her infant-fire:
It smokes, and then with trembling breath she
blows,

Till in a cheerful blaze the flames arose.
With brush-wood and with chips she strengthens
these,

The time between, before the fire they sat,
And shorten'd the delay by pleasing chat.

And adds at last the boughs of rotten trees.
The fire thus form'd, she sets the kettle on,
(Like burnish'd gold the little seether shone)
Next took the coleworts which her husband got
From his own ground (a small well-water'd spot;)
She stripp'd the stalks of all their leaves; the best
She cull'd, and then with handy care she dress'd.
High o'er the hearth a chine of bacon hung;
Good old Philemon seiz'd it with a prong,
And from the sooty rafter drew it down,
Then cut a slice, but scarce enough for one :
Yet a large portion of a little store,

66

A beam there was, on which a beechen pail
Hung by the handle, on a driven nail :
This fill'd with water, gently warm'd, they set
Before their guests; in this they bath'd their feet,
And after with clean towels dry'd their sweat:
This done, the host produc'd the genial bed,
Sallow the foot, the borders, and the sted,
Which with no costly coverlet they spread,
But coarse old garments; yet such robes as these
They laid alone, at feast, on holydays.
The good old housewife, tucking up her gown,
The tables set; th' invited gods lie down.
The trivet-table of a foot was lame,

Which for their sakes alone he wish'd were more.
This in the pot he plung'd without delay,
To tame the flesh, and drain the salt away.

A blot which prudent Baucis overcame,
Who thrust, beneath the limping leg, a sherd,
So was the mended board exactly rear'd:
Then rubb'd it o'er with newly-gather'd mint,
A wholesome herb that breath'd a grateful scent.
Pallas began the feast, where first was seen
The party-colour'd olive, black and green:
Autumnal cornets next in order serv'd,
In lees of wine well pickled and preserv'd:
A garden-salad was the third supply,
Of endive, radishes, and succory:

Then curds and cream, the flower of country fare,
And new-laid eggs, which Baucis' busy care
Turn'd by a gentle fire, and roasted rare.
All these in earthen-ware were serv'd to board;
And next in place an earthen pitcher stor'd
With liquor of the best the cottage could afford.
This was the table's ornament and pride,
With figures wrought: like pages at his side
Stood beechen bowls; and these were shining clean,
Varnish'd with wax without, and lin❜d within.
By this the boiling kettle had prepar'd,
And to the table sent the smoking lard;
On which with eager appetite they dine,
A savory bit, that serv'd to relish wine:
The wine itself was suiting to the rest,
Still working in the must, and lately press'd.
The second course succeeds like that before,
Plums, apples, nuts, and, of their wintry store,
Dry figs and grapes, and wrinkled dates, were set
In canisters, t' enlarge the little treat:

All these a milk-white honey-comb surround,
Which in the midst the country-banquet crown'd.
But the kind hosts their entertainment grace
With hearty welcome, and an open face:
In all they did, you might discern with ease
A willing mind, and a desire to please.
"Mean time the beechen bowls went round, and
still,

Though often emptied, were observ'd to fill,
Fill'd without hands, and of their own accord
Ran without feet, and danc'd about the board.
Devotion seiz'd the pair, to see the feast
With wine, and of no common grape, increas'd;
And up they held their hands, and fell to pray'r,

Excusing, as they could, their country fare.
One goose they had ('twas all they could allow)
A wakeful centry, and on duty now,
Whom to the gods for sacrifice they vow:
Her, with malicious zeal, the couple view'd;
She ran for life, and limping they pursu'd:
Full well the fowl perceiv'd their bad intent,
And would not make her master's compliment;
But persecuted, to the powers she flies,
And close between the legs of Jove she lies,

He with a gracious ear the suppliant heard,
And sav'd her life; then what he was declar'd,
And own'd the god. The neighbourhood,' said he,
Shall justly perish for impiety:
You stand alone exempted; but obey

With speed, and follow where we lead the way:
Leave these accurs'd; and to the mountains height
Ascend; nor once look backward in your flight.'
"They haste; and what their tardy feet de-
ny'd,

The trusty staff (their better leg) supply'd.
An arrow's flight they wanted to the top,
And there scure, but spent with travel, stop;
Then turn their now no more forbidden eyes;
Lost in a lake the floated level lies:

THE FABLE OF IPHIS AND IANTHE.
FROM THE NINTH BOOK OF
OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.
THE fame of this, perhaps, through Crete had
flown;

But Crete had newer wonders of her own,
In Iphis chang'd; for near the Gnossian bounds,
(As loud report the miracle resounds)
At Phæstus dwelt a man of honest blood,
But meanly born, and not so rich as good;
Esteenr'd and lov'd by all the neighbourhood;
Who to his wife, before the time assign'd
For child-birth came, thus bluntly spoke his mind.
"If Heaven," said Lygdus, "will vouchsafe to
I have but two petitions to prefer; [hear,
Short pains for thee, for me a son and heir.

A watery desert covers all the plains,
Their cot alone, as in an isle, remains:
Wondering with peeping eyes, while they de- Girls cost as many throes in bringing forth;

plore

Their neighbours fate, and country now no more,
Their little shed scarce large enough for two,
Seems, from the ground increas'd, in height and
bulk to grow.

A state y temple shoots within the skies:
The crotchets of their cot in columns rise:
The pavement polish'd marble they behold,
The gates with sculpture grac'd, the spires and
tiles of gold.

"Then thus the sire of gods, with looks se

rene,

Speak thy desire, thou only just of men;
And thou, O woman, only worthy found
To be with such a man in marriage bound.'
"A while they whisper; then, to Jove ad-
dress'd,

Philemon thus prefers their joint request.
We crave to serve before your sacred shrine,
And offer at your altars rites divine:
And since not any action of our life
Has been polluted with domestic strife,
We beg one hour of death; that neither she
With widow's tears may live to bury me,
Nor weeping 1, with wither'd arms, may bear
My breathless Baucis to the sepulchre.'
"The godheads sign their suit. They run their

race

In the same tenour all th' appointed space;
Then, when their hour was come, while they relate
These past adventures at the temple-gate,
Old Baucis is by old Philemon seen
Sprouting with sudden leaves of sprightly green:
Old Baucis look'd where old Philemon stood,
And saw his len then'd arms a sprouting wood:
New roots their fasten'd feet begin to bind,
Their bodies stiffen in a rising rind:
Then, ere the bark above their shoulders grew,
They give and take at once their last adieu;
At once, Farewel, O faithful spouse,' they said;
At once th' encroaching rinds their closing lips in-
vade.

Ev'n yet, an ancient Tyanæan shows
A spreading oak, that near a linden grows;
The neighbourhood confirm the prodigy,
Grave men, not vain of tongue, or like to lie.
I saw myself the garlands on their boughs,
And tablets hung for gifts of granted vows;
And offering fresher up, with pious prayer,
The good,' said I, are God's peculiar care,
And such as honour Heaven, shall heavenly ho-
nour share.""

Beside, when born, the tits are little worth;
Weak puling things, unable to sustain
Their share of labour, and their bread to gain.
If, therefore, thou a creature shalt produce,
Of so great charges, and so little use,
(Bear witness, Heaven, with what reluctancy)
Her hapless innocence I doom to die."
He said, and tears the common grief display,
Of him who bad, and her who must obey.
Yet Telethusa still persists, to find
Fit arguments to move a father's mind;
T'extend his wishes to a larger scope,
And in one vessel not confine his hope.
Lygdus continues hard: her time drew near,
And she her heavy load could scarcely bear;
When slumbering, in the latter shades of night,
Before th' approaches of returning light,
She saw, or thought she saw, before her bed,
A glorious train, and Isis at their head:
Her moony horns were on her forehead plac'd,
And yellow sheaves her shining temples grac'd:
A mitre, for a crown, she wore on high;
The dog and dappled bull were waiting by;
Osiris, sought along the banks of Nile;
The silent god; the sacred crocodile;
And, last, a long procession moving on,
With timbrels, that assist the labouring Moon.
Her slumbers seem'd dispell'd, and, broad awake,
She heard a voice, that thus distinctly spake.
"My votary, thy babe from death defend,
Nor fear to save whate'er the gods will send.
Delude with art thy husband's dire decree:
When danger calls, repose thy trust on me;
And know thou hast not serv'd a thankless deity."
This promise made, with night the goddess fled:
With joy the woman wakes, and leaves her bed;
Devoutly lifts her spotless hands on high,
And prays the powers their gift to ratify.

Now grinding pains proceed to bearing throes,
Till its own weight the burthen did disclose.
'Twas of the beauteous kind, and brought to light
With secrecy, to shun the father's sight.
Th' indulgent mother did her care employ,
And pass'd it on her husband for a boy.
The nurse was conscious of the fact alone;
The father paid his vows as for a sou;
And call'd him Iphis, by a common name,
Which either sex with equal right may claim.
Iphis his grandsire was; the wife was pleas'd,
Of half the fraud by Fortune's favour eas'd:
The doubtful name was us'd without deceit,
And truth was cover'd with a pious cheat.

[he.

The habit show'd a boy, the beauteous face
With manly fierceness mingled female grace.
Now thirteen years of age were swiftly run,
When the fond father thought the time drew on
Of settling in the world his only son.
lanthe was his choice; so wondrous fair,
Her form alone with Iphis could compare;
A neighbour's daughter of his own degree,
And not more bless'd with Fortune's goods than
They soon espous'd: for they with ease were join'd,
Who were before contracted in the mind.
Their age the same, their inclinations too:
And bred together in one school they grew.
Thus, fatally dispos'd to mutual fires,
They felt, before they knew, the same desires.
Equal their flame, unequal was their care;
One lov'd with hope, one languish'd in despair.
The maid accus'd the lingering days alone:
For whom she thought a man, she thought her own.
But Iphis bends beneath a greater grief;
As fiercely burns, but hopes for no relief.
Ev'n her despair adds fuel to her sire;
A maid with madness does a maid desire.
And, scarce refraining tears, "Alas," said she,
What issue of my love remains for me!
How wild a passion works within my breast!
With what prodigious flames am I possest!
Could I the care of Providence deserve,
Heaven must destroy me, if it would preserve.
And that's my fate, or sure it would have sent
Some usual evil for my punishment,
Not this unkindly curse; to rage and burn,
Where Nature shows no prospect of return.
Nor cows for cows consume with fruitless fire;
Nor mares, when hot, their fellow-mares desire:
The father of the fold supplies his ewes ;

The stag through secret woods his hind pursues;
And birds for mates the males of their own species
choose.

Her females Nature guards from female flame,
And joins two sexes to preserve the game:
Would I were nothing, or not what I am!
Crete, fam'd for monsters, wanted of her store,
Till my new love produc'd one monster more.
The daughter of the Sun a bull desir'd,
And yet ev❜n then a male a female sir'd:
Her passion was extravagantly new :

But mine is much the madder of the two.
To things impossible she was not bent,
But found the means to compass her intent.
To cheat his eyes, she took a different shape;
Yet still she gain'd a lover, and a leap.
Should all the wit of all the world conspire,
Should Dædalus assist my wild desire,
What art can make me able to enjoy,
Or what can change Ianthe to a boy?
Extinguish then thy passion, hopeless maid,
And recollect thy reason for thy aid.
Know what thou art, and love as maidens ought,
And drive these golden wishes from thy thought.
Thou canst not hope thy fond desires to gain;
Where hope is wanting, wishes are in vain.
And yet no guards against our joys conspire;
No jealous husband hinders our desire;
My parents are propitious to my wish,
And she herself consenting to the bliss.
All things concur to prosper our design;
All things to prosper any love but mine.
And yet I never can enjoy the fair;

Tis past the power of Heaven to grant my prayer.

Heaven has been kind, as far as Heaven can be;
Our parents with our own desires agree;
But Nature, stronger than the gods above,
Refuses her assistance to my love;
She sets the bar that causes all my pain:
One gift refus'd makes all their bounty vain.
And now the happy day is just at hand,
To bind our hearts in Hymen's holy band:
Our hearts, but not our bodies. Thus accurs'd,
In midst of water I complain of thirst.
Why com'st thou, Juno, to these barren rites,
To bless a bed de frauded of delights?
And why should Hymen lift his torch on high,
To see two brides in cold embraces lie?"

Thus lovesick Iphis her vain passion mourns;
With equal ardour fair lanthe burns,
Invoking Hymen's name, and Juno's power,
To speed the work, and haste the happy hour.
She hopes, while Telethusa fears the day,
And strives to interpose some new delay:
Now feigns a sickness, now is in a fright
For this bad omen, or that boding sight.
But, having done whate'er she could devise,
And empty'd all her magazine of lies,
The time approach'd; the next ensuing day
The fatal secret must to light betray.
Then Telethusa had recourse to prayer,
She and her daughter with dishevell'd hair;
Trembling with fear, great Isis they ador'd,
Embrac'd her altar, and her aid implor'd.

"Fair queen, who dost on fruitful Egypt smile,
Who sway'st the sceptre of the Pharian isle,
And seven-fold falls of disemboguing Nile;
Relieve, in this our last distress," she said,
"A suppliant mother, and a mournful maid.
Thou, goddess, thou wert present to my sight;
Reveal'd I saw thee by thy own fair light:
I saw thee in my dream, as now I see,
With all thy marks of awful majesty:
The glorious train that compass'd thee around;
And heard the hollow timbrel's holy sound.
Thy words I noted; which I still retain;
Let not thy sacred oracles be vain.
That Iphis lives, that I myself am free
From shame, and punishment, I owe to thee.
On thy protection all our hopes depend:
Thy counsel sav'd us, let thy power defend."

Her tears pursu'd her words; and while she

spoke

The goddess nodded, and her altar shook :
The temple doors, as with a blast of wind,
Were heard to clap; the lunar horns that bind
The brows of Isis cast a blaze around;
The trembling timbrel made a murmuring sound.
Some hopes these happy omens did impart;
Forth went the mother with a beating heart,
Not much in fear, nor fully satisfy'd;
But Iphis follow'd with a larger stride:
The whiteness of her skin forsook her face;
Her looks embolden'd with an awful grace;
Her features and her strength together grew,
And her long hair to curling locks withdrew.
Her sparkling eyes with manly vigour shone;
Big was her voice, audacious was her tone.
The latent parts, at length reveal'd, began
To shoot, and spread, and burnish into man.
The maid becomes a youth; no more delay
Your vows, but look, and confidently pay.
Their gifts the parents to the temple bear:
The votive tables this inscription wear:

"Iphis, the man, has to the Goddess paid
The vows, that Iphis offered when a maid."
Now when the star of day had shown his face,
Venus and Juno with their presence grace
The nuptial rites, and Hymen from above
Descended to complete their happy love;
The gods of marriage lend their mutual aid;
And the warm youth enjoys the lovely maid.

PYGMALION AND THE STATUE.
FROM THE TENTH BOOK OF
OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.
The Propœtides, for their impudent behaviour,
being turned into stone by Venus, Pygmalion,
prince of Cyprus, detested all women for their
sake, and resolved never to marry. He falls in
love with a statue of his own making, which is
changed into a maid, whom he marries. One
of his descendants is Cinyras, the father of
Myrrha the daughter incestuously loves her
own father; for which she is changed into a tree
which bears her name. These two stories im-
mediately follow each other, and are admirably
well connected.

PYGMALION, loathing their lascivious life,
Abhorr'd all womankind, but most a wife:
So single chose to live, and shunn'd to wed,
Well pleas'd to want a consort of his bed:
Yet, fearing Idleness, the nurse of ill,
In sculpture exercis'd his happy skill;
And carv'd in ivory such a maid, so fair,
As Nature could not with his art compare,
Were she to work; but, in her own defence,
Must take her pattern here, and copy hence.
Pleas'd with his idol, he commends, admires,
Adores; and last, the thing ador'd desires.
A very virgin in her face was seen,

And, had she mov'd, a living maid had been;
One would have thought she could have stirr'd;

but strove

With modesty, and was asham'd to move.
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,
Which feels so smooth, that he believes it soft.
Fir'd with this thought, at once he strain'd the
And on the lips a burning kiss impress'd. [breast,
'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;
So would believe she kiss'd, and, courting more,
Again embrac'd her naked body o'er;
And, straining hard the statue, was afraid
His hands had made a dint, and hurt the maid:
Explor'd her, limb by limb, and fear'd to find
So rude a gripe had left a livid mark behind:
With flattery now he seeks her mind to move,
And now with gifts, the powerful bribes of love:
He furnishes her closet first; and fills

The crowded shelves with rarities of shells; [drew,
Adds orient pearls, which from the conchs he
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,
Were sorted well, with lumps of amber laid be
Rich, fashionable robes her person deck, [tween :
Pendants her ears, and pearls adorn her neck:
Her taper'd fingers too with rings are grac'd,
And an embroider'd zone surrounds her slender
waist.

Thus like a queen array'd, so richly dress'd,
Beauteous she show'd, but naked show'd the best.
Then from the floor he rais'd a royal bed,
With coverings of Sidonian purple spread :
The solemn rites perform'd, he calls her bride,
With blandishments invites her to his side,
And as she were with vital sense possess'd,
Her head did on a plumy pillow rest.

To which the Cypriots due devotion pay;
The feast of Venus came, a solemn day,
Slaughter'd before the sacred altars, bled:
With gilded horns the milk-white heifers led,
Pygmalion offering, first approach'd the shrine,
And then with prayers implor'd 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 chang'd his words for shame, and only pray'd,
"Give me the likeness of my ivory maid."

The golden goddess, present at the prayer,
Well knew he meant th' inanimated fair,
And gave the sign of granting his desire;
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'd before; nor longer stays,
But next his band on her hard bosom lays:
Hard as it was, beginning to relent,

[dint.

It seem'd the breast beneath his fingers bent;
He felt again, his fingers made a print,
'Twas flesh, but flesh so firm, it rose against the
Soft, and more soft at every touch it grew:
The pleasing task he fails not to renew ;
Like pliant wax, when chafing hands reduce
The former mass to form, and frame to use.
He would believe, but yet is still in pain,
And tries his argument of sense again,
Presses the pulse, and feels the leaping vein :
Convinc'd, 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 favour of the kiss sincere:
At this the waken'd image op'd her eyes, [prise.
And view'd at once the light and lover, with sur-
The goddess, present at the match she made,
So bless'd the bed, such fruitfulness convey'd,
That ere ten moons 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.

CINYRAS AND MYRRHA.

OUT OF THE TENTH BOOK OF

OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

There needs no connection of this story with the former: for the beginning of this immediately

Like various fits the Trachin vessel finds, And now sublime she rides upon the winds; As from a lofty summit looks from high, And from the clouds beholds the nether sky; Now from the depth of Hell they lift their sight, And at a distance see superior light: The lashing billows make a loud report, And beat her sides, as battering rams a fort: Or as a lion, bounding in his way, With force augmented bears against his prey, Sidelong to seize: or, unappall'd with fear, Springs on the toils, and rushes on the spear: So seas impell'd by winds with added power Assault the sides, and o'er the hatches tower. The planks, their pitchy coverings wash'd away, Now yield; and now a yawning breach display: The roaring waters with a hostile tide Rush through the ruins of her gaping side. Mean time in sheets of rain the sky descends, And ocean swell'd with waters upwards tends, One rising, falling one; the heavens and sea Meet at their confines, in the middle way: The sails are drunk with showers, and drop with Sweet waters mingle with the briny main. No star appears to lend his friendly light: Darkness and tempest make a double night. But flashing fires disclose the deep by turns, And, while the lightnings blaze, the water burns. Now all the waves their scatter'd force unite, And as a soldier, foremost in the fight, Makes way for others, and an host alone Still

[rain,