Now, since their nuptia's, had the golden Sun Five courses round his ample zodiac run; When gentle Procnè thus her lord address'd, And spoke the secret wishes of her breast: "If I," she said," have ever favour found, Let my petition with success be crown'd: Let me at Athens my dear sister see, Or let her come to Thrace, and visit me. And, lest my father should her absence mourn, Promise that she shall make a quick return. With thanks I'd own the obligation due Only, O Tereus, to the gods and you."

Now, ply'd with oar and sail, at his command, The nimble gallies reach'd th' Athenian land, And anchor'd in the fam'd Piræan bay, While Tereus to the palace takes his way; The king salutes, and ceremonies past, Begins the fatal embassy at last; Th' occasion of his voyage he declares, And, with his own, his wife's request prefers: Asks leave that, only for a little space, Their lovely sister might embark for Thrace. Thus while he spoke appear'd the royal maid, Bright Philomela, splendidly array'd; But most attractive in her charming face, And comely person, turn'd with ev'ry grace; Like those fair nymphs, that are describ'd to rove Across the glades, and op'nings of the grove: Only that these are dress'd for sylvan sports, And less become the finery of courts.

Tereus beheld the virgin, and admir'd,
And with the coals of burning lust was fir'd:
Like crackling stubble, or the summer hay,
When forked lightnings o'er the meadows play.
Such charms in any breast might kindle love,
But him the heats of inbred lewdness move;
To which though Thrace is naturally prone,
Yet his is still superior, and his own.
Straight her attendants he designs to buy,
And with large bribes her governess would try:
Herself with ample gifts resolves to bend,
And his whole kingdom in th' attempt expend:
Or, snatch'd away by force of afms, to bear,
And justify the rape with open war.
The boundless passion boils within his breast,
And his projecting soul admits no rest.

And now impatient of the least delay,
By pleading Procnè's cause, he speeds his way:
The eloquence of love his tongue inspires,
And, in his wife's, he speaks his own desires;
Hence all his importunities arise,
And tears unmanly trickle from his eyes.

Ye gods! what thick involving darkness blinds
The stupid faculties of mortal minds!
Tereus the credit of good-nature gains
From these his crimes; so well the villain feigns.
And unsuspecting of his base designs,
In the request fair Philomela joins;
Her snowy arms her aged sire embrace,
And clasp his neck with an endearing grace:
Only to see her sister she entreats,

A seeming blessing, which a curse completes.
Tereus surveys her with a luscious eye,
And in his mind forestalls the blissful joy:
Her circling arms a scene of lust inspire,
And ev'ry kiss foments the raging fire.
Fondly he wishes for the father's place,
To feel, and to return the warm embrace;'
Since not the nearest ties of filial blood

Would damp his flame, and force him to be good

At length for both their sakes, the king agrees; And Philomela, on her bended knees, Thanks him for what her fancy calls success, When cruel fate intends her nothing less.

Now Phoebus, hast'ning to ambrosial rest, His fiery steeds drove sloping down the west: The sculptur'd gold with sparkling wines was fill’A, And, with rich meats, each cheerful table smil'd. Plenty and mirth the royal banquet close, Then all retire to sleep, and sweet repose. But the lewd monarch, though withdrawn apart, Still feels love's poison rankling in his heart: Her face divine is stamp'd within his breast, Fancy imagines, and improves the rest: And thus, kept waking by intense desire, He nourishes his own prevailing fire.

Next day the good old king for Tereus sends, And to his charge the virgin recommends; His hand with tears th' indulgent father press'd, Then spoke, and thus with tenderness address'd. "Since the kind instances of pious love Do all pretence of obstacle remove; Since Procnè's, and her own, with your request, O'er-rule the fears of a paternal breast; With you, dear son, my daughter I intrust, And by the gods adjure you to be just; By truth, and ev'ry consanguineal tye, To watch, and guard her with a father's eye. And, since the least delay will tedious prove, In keeping from my sight the child I love, With speed return her, kindly to assuage The tedious troubles of my ling'ring age. And you, my Philomel, let it suffice, To know your sister's banish'd from my eyes; If any sense of duty sways your mind, Let me from you the shortest absence find." He wept; then kiss'd his child; and while he speaks, The tears fall gently down his aged cheeks. Next, as a pledge of fealty, he demands, And, with a solemn charge, conjoins their hands; Then to his daughter and his grandson sends, And by their mouth a blessing recommends; While, in a voice with dire forebodings broke, Sobbing, and faint, the last farewell was spoke.

Now Philomela, scarce receiv'd on board, And in the royal gilded bark secur'd, Beheld the dashes of the bending oar, The ruffled sea, and the receding shore; When straight (his joy impatient of disguise) "We've gain'd our point," the rough barbarian "Now I possess the dear, the blissful hour, [cries; And ev'ry wish subjected to my pow'r.” Transports of lust his vicious thoughts employ, And he forbears, with pain, th' expected joy. His gloting eyes incessantly survey'd The virgin beauties of the lovely maid. As when the bold rapacious bird of Jove, With crooked talons stooping from above, Has snatch'd, and carry'd to his lofty nest, A captive bare, with cruel gripes opprest; Secure, with fix'd and unrelenting eyes, He sits, and views the helpless, trembling prize. Their vessels now had made th' intended land, And all with joy descend upon the strand; When the false tyrant seiz'd the princely maid, And to a lodge in distant woods convey'd; Pale, sinking, and distress'd with jealous fears, And asking for her sister all in tears. The lecher, for enjoyment fully bent, No longer now conceal'd his base intent;

A shiv'ring cold prevail'd in ev'ry part,
And the chill'd blood ran trembling to her heart.
Soon as the queen a fit retirement found,
Stript of the garlands that her temples crown'd,
She straight unveil'd her blushing sister's face,
And fondly clasp'd her with a close embrace:
But, in confusion lost, th' unhappy maid,
With shame dejected, hung her drooping head,
As guilty of a crime that stain'd her sister's bed.
That speech, that should her injur'd virtue clear,
And make her spotless innocence appear,
Is now no more; only her hands and eyes
Appeal, in signals, to the conscious skies.
In Procnè's breast the rising passions boil,
And burst in anger with a mad recoil;
Her sister's ill-tim'd grief, with scorn, she blames,
Then, in these furious words her rage proclaims.

"Tears unavailing but defer our time, The stabbing sword must expiate the crime; Or worse, if wit, on bloody vengeance bent, A weapon more tormenting can invent. O sister! I've prepar'd my stubborn heart, To act some hellish, and unheard-of part; Either the palace to surround with fire, And see the villain in the flames expire; Or, with a knife, dig out his cursed eyes, Or, his false tongue with racking engines seize; Or, cut away the part that injur'd you, And, thro' a thousand wounds, his guilty soul Tortures enough my passion has design'd, But the variety distracts my mind."

A while, thus wav'ring, stood the furious dame, When Ity's fondling to his mother came; From him the cruel fatal hint she took, She view'd him with a stern remorseless look; "Ah! but too like thy wicked sire," she said, Forming the direful purpose in her head. At this a sullen grief her voice supprest, While silent passions struggle in her breast.

Now, at her lap arriv'd, the flatt'ring boy Salutes his parent with a smiling joy: About her neck his little arms are thrown, And he accosts her in a prattling tone. Then her tempestuous anger was allay'd, And in its full career her vengeance stay'd; While tender thoughts, in spite of passion, rise, And melting tears disarm her threat'ning eyes. But when she found the mother's easy heart, Too fondly swerving from th' intended part; Her injur'd sister's face again she view'd, And, as by turns surveying both she stood, "While this fond boy," she said, "can thus exThe moving accents of his fond address; [press Why stands my sister of her tongue bereft, Forlorn, and sad, in speechless silence left? O Procnè, see the fortune of your house! Such is your fate, when match'd to such a spouse! Conjugal duty, if observ'd to him, Would change from virtue, and become a crime; For all respect to Tereus must debase The noble blood of great Pandion's race."

"Straight at these words, with big resentment fill'd,

Furious her look, she flew, and seiz'd her child;
Like a fell tigress of the savage kind,
That drags the tender suckling of the bind
Thro' India's gloomy groves, where Ganges laves
The shady scene, and rolls his streamy waves.
Now to a close apartment they were come,
Far off retir'd within the spacious dome;

[sight.

When Procnè, 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,
Stept 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, [cell.
And rouse the snaky Furies from their Stygian
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 stampt 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;

If no remorse for such distress I feel,
I am a tigress, and my breast is steel.
Why do I scruple then to see him slain,
And with the tragic scene my eyes profane?
My magic's art employ, not to assuage
The savages, but to inflame their rage?
His earth-born foes to fiercer fury move,
And accessary to his murder prove?

The gods forbid but pray'rs are idle breath,
When action only can prevent his death.
Shall I betray my father, and the state,
To intercept a rambling hero's fate;

So flam'd the virgin's breast

New kindled by her lover's sparkling eyes.
For chance, that day, had with uncommon grace
Adorn'd the lovely youth, and through his face
Display'd an air so pleasing, as might charm
A goddess, and a vestal's bosom warm.
Her ravish'd eyes survey him o'er and o'er,
As some gay wonder never seen before;
Transported to the skies she seems to be,
And thinks she gazes on a deity.

But when he spoke, and prest her trembling hand,
And did with tender words her aid demand,

By my assistance, bless another's arms?
Whilst 1, not only of my hopes bereft,
But to unpity'd punishment am left.
If he is false, let the ingrateful bleed!
But no such symptom in his looks I read.
Nature would ne'er have lavish'd so much grace
Upon his person, if his soul were base.
Besides, he first shall plight his faith, and swear
By all the gods; what therefore canst thou fear?
Medea, haste, from danger set him free,
Jason shall thy eternal debtor be.

And thou, his queen, with sov'reign state install'd,
By Grecian dames the kind preserver call'd.
Hence idle dreams, by love-sick fancy bred!
Wilt thou, Medea, by vain wishes led,
To sister, brother, father bid adieu ?
Forsake thy country's gods, and country too?
My father's harsh, my brother but a child,
My sister rivals me, my country's wild;
And for its gods, the greatest of them all
Inspires my breast, and I obey his call.
That great endearments I forsake, is true,
But greater far the hopes that I pursue:
The pride of having sav'd the youths of Greece,
(Each life more precious than our golden fleece ;)
A nobler soil by me shall be possest,

I shall see towns with arts and manners blest;
And, what I prize above the world beside,
Enjoy my Jason-and when once his bride,
Be more than mortal, and to gods ally'd.
They talk of hazards Í must first sustain,
Of floating islands justling in the main;
Our tender bark expos'd to dreadful shocks
Of fierce Charybdis' gulf, and Scylla's rocks,
Where breaking waves in whirling eddies roll,
And rav'nous dogs that in deep caverns howl:
Amidst these terrours, while I lie possest
Of him I love, and lean on Jason's breast,
In tempests unconcern'd I will appear,
Or only for my husband's safety fear.
Didst thou say husband?-canst thou so deceive
Thyself, fond maid, and thy own cheat believe?
In vain thou striv'st to varnish o'er thy shame,
And grace thy guilt with wedlock's sacred name.
Pull off the coz'ning mask, and oh! in time
Discover and avoid the fatal crime."

She ceas'd the Graces now, with kind surprise,
And Virtue's lovely train, before her eyes
Present themselves, and vanquish'd Cupid flies.
She then retires to Hecate's shrine, that stood
Far in the covert of a shady wood:
She finds the fury of her flames assuag'd,
But, seeing Jason there, again they rag'd.
Blushes and paleness did by turns invade
Her tender checks, and secret grief betray'd.
As fire, that sleeping under ashes lies,

Fresh blown, and rous'd, does up in blazes rise,

She wept a flood of tears, and thus reply'd;
"I see my errour, yet to ruin move,
Nor owe my fate to ignorance, but love:
Your life I'll guard, and only crave of you
To swear once more-and to your oath be true
He swears by Hecate he would all fulfil,
And, by her grandfather's prophetic skill,
By ev'ry thing that doubting love could press,
His present danger, and desir'd success.
She credits him, and kindly does produce
Enchanted herbs, and teaches him their use;
Their mystic names and virtues he admires,
And with his booty joyfully retires.

THE DRAGON'S TEETH TRANSFORMED TO MEN.
IMPATIENT for the wonders of the day,
Aurora drives the loit'ring stars away.
Now Mars's mount the pressing people fill,
The crowd below, the nobles crown the hill;
The king himself high-thron❜d above the rest,
With iv'ry sceptre, and in purple drest.

Forthwith the brass-hoof'd bulls are set at large,
Whose furious nostrils sulph'rous flame discharge:
The blasted herbage by their breath expires;
As forges rumble with excessive fires,
And furnaces with fiercer fury glow,
When water on the panting mass ye throw;
With such a noise, from their convulsive breast,
Thro' bellowing throats, the struggling vapour
prest.

Yet Jason marches up without concern,
While on th' advent'rous youth the monsters turn
Their glaring eyes, and, eager to engage,
Brandish their steel-tipt horns in threat'ning rage:
With brazen hoofs they beat the ground, and
choke

The ambient air with clouds of dust and smoke
Each gazing Grecian for his champion shakes,
While bold advances he securely makes
Thro' singeing blasts; such wonders magic art
Can work, when love conspires, and plays his part.
The passive savages like statues stand,
While he their dew-laps strokes with soothing
To unknown yokes their brawny necks they yield,
And, like tame oxen, plough the wond'ring field.
The Colchians stare; the Grecians shout, and
raise

[hand;

Their champion's courage with inspiring praise.
Embolden'd now, on fresh attempts he goes,
With serpent's teeth the fertile furrows sows;
The glebe, fermenting with enchanted juice,
Makes the snake's teeth a human crop produce
For as an infant, pris'ner to the womb,
Contented sleeps, 'till to perfection come,
Then does the ceil's obscure confinement scorn
He tosses, throbs, and presses to be born;