PYGMALION, loathing their lafcivious life,
Abhorr'd all womankind, but most a wife:
So fingle chofe to live, and fhunn'd to wed,
Well pleas'd to want a confort of his bed:
Yet, fearing idlenefs, the nurfe of ill,
In fculpture exercis'd his happy skill;
And carv'd in ivory such a maid, so fair
As nature could not with his art compare,
Were the to work; but, in her own defence,
Muft take her pattern here, and copy hence.
Pleas'd with his idol, he commends, admires,
Adores; and laft, the thing ador'd defires.
A very virgin in her face was feen,
And, had the mov'd, a living maid had been;
One would have thought he could have stirr'd;
but ftrove

With modefty, and was asham'd to move.
Art, hid with art, fo well perform'd the cheat,
It caught the carver with his own deceit ;
He knows 'tis madnefs, yet he must adore,
And fill the more he knows it, loves the more:

And on the lips a burning kifs imprefs'd.
"Tis true, the harden'd breaft refifts the gripe,
And the cold lips return a kifs unripe:
But when retiring back, he look'd again,
To think it ivory was a thought too mean;
So would believe the kifs'd, and courting more,
Again embrac'd her naked body o'er ;
And ftraining hard the ftatue, 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 feeks her mind to move,
And now with gifts, the powerful bribes of love:
He furnishes her clofet firft; and fills

The crowded shelves with rarities of fhells;
Adds orient pearls, which from the conchs he drew,
And all the fparkling ftones of various hue:

And parrots, imitating human tongue,
And finging birds in filver cages hung;
And every fragrant flower, and odorous green,
Were forted well, with lumps of amber laid be-

tween:

Rich, fashionable robes her perfon deck,
Pendents her ears, and pearls adorn her neck:
Her taper'd fingers too with rings are grac'd,
And an embroider'd zone furrounds her flender
wafte.

Thus like a queen array'd, fo richly drefs'd,
Beauteous fhe fhew'd, but naked fhew'd the best.
Then from the floor he rais'd a royal bed,
With coverings of Sidonian purple spread :
The folemn rites perform'd, he calls her bride,
With blandifhments invites her to his fide,
And as the were with vital fenfe poffefs'd,
Her head did on a plumy pillow rest.

The feaft of Venus came, a folemn day,
To which the Cypriots due devotion pay;
With gilded horns the milk-white heifers led,
Slaughter'd before the facred altars, bled:
Pygmalion offering, first approach'd the shrine,
And then with prayers implor'd the powers di-

vine:

Almighty Gods, if all we mortals want,

If all we can require, be yours to grant ;

Make this fair statue mine, he would have faid," But chang'd his words for fhame, and only pray'd,

Give me the likeness of my ivory maid.
The golden Goddefs, prefent at the prayer,
Well knew he meant th' inanimated fair,

And gave the fign of granting his defire;
For thrice in cheerful flames afcends the fire.
The youth, returning to his miftrefs, hies,
And impudent in hope, with ardent eyes,
And beating breast, by the dear statue lies.
He kiffes her white lips, renews the blifs,
And looks and thinks they redden at the kiss:
He thought them warm'd before; nor longer stays,
But next his hand on her hard bofom lays:
Hard as it was, beginning to relent,

[dint,

It feem'd the breaft beneath his fingers bent;
He felt again, his fingers made a print,
'Twas flesh, but flesh fo firm, it rose against the
The pleafing task he fails not to renew ;
Soft, and more foft at every touch it grew:
Like pliant wax, when chafing hands reduce
The former mass to form, and frame to use,
He would believe, but yet is ftill in pain,
And tries his argument of fenfe again,
Preffes the pulfe, and feels the leaping vein,
Convinc'd, o'erjoy'd, his ftudied 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 kifs fincere:
At this the waken'd image op'd her eyes,

And view'd at once the light and lover, with fur

NOR him alone produc'd the fruitful queen;
But Cinyras, who like his fire had been
A happy prince, had he not been a fire.
Daughters and fathers, from my fong retire:
I fing of horror; and, could I prevail,
You fhould not hear, or not believe, my tale.
Yet if the pleafure of my fong be such,
That you will hear, and credit me too much,
Attentive liften to the last event,
And with the fin believe the punishment:
Since nature could behold fo dire a crime,
I gratulate at least my native clime,

That fuch a land, which fuch a monster bore,
So far is diftant from our Thracian fhore.
Let Araby extol her happy coast,

Her cinnamon and fweet Amomum boast,
Her fragrant flowers, her trees with precious"
tears,

Her fecond harvests, and her double years; How can the land be call'd fo blefs'd' that Myrrha bears?

Not all her odorous tears can cleanfe her crime, Her plant alone deforms the happy clime:

Cupid denies to have inflam'd thy heart,
Difowns thy love, and vindicates his dart;
Some fury gave thee thofe infernal pains,
And fhot her venom'd vipers in thy veins.
To hate thy fire, had merited a curse :
But fuch an impious love deferv'd a worse.
The neighbouring monarchs, by thy beauty led,
Contend in crowds, ambitious of thy bed:
The world is at thy choice, except but one,
Except but him, thou canst not choose, alone.
She knew it too, the miferable maid,
Ere impious love her better thoughts betray'd,
And thus within her fecret foul the faid:
Ah Myrrha! whither would thy wishes tend?
Ye Gods, ye facred laws, my foul defend
From fuch a crime as all mankind deteft,
And never lodg'd before in human breast!
But is it fin? Or makes my mind alone
Th' imagin'd fin? For nature makes it none.
What tyrant then these envious laws began,
Made not for any other beast but man!
The father-bull his daughter may bestride,
The horse may make his mother-mare a bride;

What piety forbids the lufty ram,

Or more falacious goat, to rut their dam?
The hen is free to wed the chick the bore,
And make a husband, whom the hatch'd before.
All creatures elfe are of a happier kind,
Whom nor ill-natur'd laws from pleasure bind,
Nor thoughts of fin disturb their peace of mind.
But man a flave of his own making lives;
The fool denies himself what nature gives:
Too busy fenates, with an over-care
To make us better than our kind can bear,
Have dafh'd a fpice of envy in the laws,
And, ftraining up too high, have spoil'd the cause.
Yet fome wife nations break their cruel chains,
And own no laws, but those which love ordains:
Where happy daughters with their fires are join'd,
And piety is doubly paid in kind.

O that I had been born in fuch a clime,

Not here, where 'tis the country makes the crime !
But whither would my impious fancy ftray?
Hence hopes, and ye forbidden thoughts away!
His worth deferves to kindle my defires,
But with the love that daughters bear to fires.
Then, had not Cinyras my father been,
What hinder'd Myrrha's hopes to be his queen?
But the perverfenefs of my fate is fuch,
That he's not mine, because he 's mine too much:
Our kindred blood debars a better tie;
He might be nearer, were he not so nigh.
Eyes and their objects never muft unite,
Some distance is requir'd to help the fight:
Fain would I travel to fome foreign fhore,
Never to fce my native country more,
So might I to myself myself restore;

So might my mind thefe impious thoughts re

move,

And, ceafing to behold, might cease to love.
But ftay I must, to feed my famifh'd fight,
To talk, to kifs; and more, if more I might :
More, impious maid! What more canst thou
defign,

To make a monftrous mixture in thy line,
And break all ftatutes human and divine?
Canft thou be call'd (to fave thy wretched life)
Thy mother's rival, and thy father's wife?
Confound fo many facred names in one,
Thy brother's mother! fifter to thy fon!
And fear'ft thou not to fee th' infernal bands,
Their heads with snakes, with torches arm'd their
hands,

Full at thy face, th' avenging brands to bear,
And shake the ferpents from their hiffing hair?
But thou in time th' increafing ill controul,
Nor first debauch the body by the foul;
Secure the facred quiet of thy mind,
And keep the fanЯtions nature has design'd.
Suppofe I fhould attempt, th' attempt were vain;
No thoughts like mine his finlefs foul profane :
Obfervant of the right; and O, that he
Could cure my madness, or be mad like me!
Thus the; but Cinyras, who daily fees,
A crowd of noble fuitors at his knees,
Among fo many, knew not whom to choofe,
Irrefolute to grant, or to refuse.

3

But, having told their names, inquir'd of her, Who pleas'd her best, and whom she would prefer?

The blushing maid stood filent with surprise,
And on her father fix'd her ardent eyes,
And looking figh'd: and as she figh'd began
Round tears to fhed, and fcalded as they ran.
The tender fire, who faw her blush and cry,
Afcrib'd it all to maiden modefty;

And dry'd the falling drops, and, yet more kind,
He ftrok'd her cheeks, and holy kiffes join'd:
She felt a fecret venom fire her blood,
And found more pleasure than a daughter should;
And, ask'd again, what lover of the crew
She lik'd the beft; the answer'd, One like you.
Mistaking what she meant, her pious will
He prais'd, and bade her fo continue ftill:
The word of pious heard, she blush'd with shame
Of fecret guilt, and could not bear the name.
'Twas now the mid of night, when flumbers
clofe

Our eyes, and footh our cares with soft repose;
But no repofe could wretched Myrrha find,
Her body rolling, as the roll'd her mind :
Mad with defire, the ruminates her fin,
And wishes all her wishes o'er again.
Now the despairs, and now refolves to try;
Would not, and would again, fhe knows not why;
Stops, and returns, makes and retracts the vow;
Fain would begin, but understands not how;
As when a pine is hewn upon the plains,
And the last mortal ftroke alone remains,
Labouring in pangs of death, and threatening all,
This way and that the nods, confidering where
to fall:

So Myrrha's mind, impell'd on either fide,
Takes every bent, but cannot long abide :
Irrefolute on which the fhould rely,

At laft, unfix'd in all, is only fix'd to die;
On that fad thought the refts; resolv'd on death,
She rifes, and prepares to choke her breath:
Then while about the beam her zone fhe ties,
Dear Cinyras, farewel, fhe foftly cries;
For thee I die, and only wish to be

Not hated, when thou know' I die for thee:
Pardon the crime, in pity to the cause;
This faid, about her neck the noose fhe draws;
The nurse, who lay without, her faithful guard,
Though not in words, the murmurs overheard,
And fighs and hollow founds: furpris'd with
fright,

She starts, and leaves her bed, and springs a light:
Unlocks the door, and entering out of breath,
The dying faw, and inftruments of death:
She fhrieks, the cuts the zone with trembling
hafte,

And in her arms her fainting charge embrac'd :
Next (for fhe now had leisure for her tears)
She weeping afk'd, in these her blooming years,
What unforeseen misfortune caus'd her care,
To lothe her life, and languish in despair!
The maid with down-caft eyes, and mute with

grief,

For death unfinish'd, and ill-tim'd relief,

Stood fullen to her fuit: the beldame prefs'd
The more to know, and bar'd her wither'd breast,
Adjur'd her, by the kindly food the drew
From thefe dry founts, her fecret ill to fhew.
Sad Myrrha figh'd, and turn'd her eyes afide :
The nurse ftill urg'd, and would not be deny'd:
Nor only promis'd fecrefy; but pray'd
She might have leave to give her offer'd aid.
Good will, fhe faid, my want of ftrength fupplies,
And diligence fhall give what age denies.
If ftrong defires thy mind to fury move,
With charms and medicines I can cure thy love:
If envious eyes their hurtful rays have caft,
More powerful verfe fhall free thee from the blast:
If heaven offended fends thee this disease,
Offended heaven with prayers we can appeafe.
What then remain, that can thefe cares procure?
Thy houfe is flourishing, thy fortune fure:
Thy careful mother yet in health furvives,
And, to thy comfort, thy kind father lives.
The virgin started at her father's name,
And figh'd profoundly, confcious of the fhame :
Nor yet the nurse her impious love divin'd:
But yet furmis'd, that love difturb'd her mind:
Thus thinking, fhe pursued her point, and laid
And lull'd within her lap the mourning maid;
Then foftly footh'd her thus, I guess your grief:
You love, my chiid; your love fhall find relief.
My long experienc'd age fhall be your guide;
Rely on that, and lay diftruft afide:

No breath of air fhall on the fecret blow,
Nor fhall (what most you fear) your father know.
Struck once again, as with a thunder-clap,
The guilty virgin bounded from her lap,
And threw her body proftrate on the bed,
And, to conceal her blushes, hid her head:
There filent lay, and warn'd her with her hand
To go but the receiv'd not the command;
Remaining ftill importunate to know:
Then Myrrha thus; Or afk no more, or go:
I pr'ythee go, or staying fpare my shame;
What thou would't hear, is impious ev'n to name.
At this, on high the beldame holds her hands,
And, trembling both with rage and terror, stands,
Adjures, and falling at her feet intreats,
Sooths her with blandifhments, and frights with
threats,

To tell the crime intended, or disclose
What part of it the knew, if fhe no further knows:
And laft, if conscious to her counsel made,
Confirms anew the promife of her aid.

Now Myrrha rais'd her head; but foon, op-
prefs'd

With fhame, reclin'd it on her nurfe's breast;
Bath'd it with tears, and ftrove to have con-
fefs'd:

Twice fhe began, and stopp'd; again fhe try'd;
The faltering tongue its office ftill deny'd :
At laft her veil before her face the spread,
And drew a long preluding tigh, and said,
O happy mother, in thy marriage bed!.
Then groan'd, and ceas'd; the good old woman

fhook,

Stiff were her eyes, and ghaftly was her look:

}

Her hoary hair upright with horror stood,
Made (to her grief) more knowing than the
would:

Much the reproach'd, and many things fhe faid,
To cure the madness of th' unhappy maid:
In vain; for Myrrha ftood convict of ill;
Her reafon vanquish'd, but exchang'd her will :
Perverfe of mind. unable to reply,

She flood refolv'd or to poffefs or die.
At length the fondness of a nurse prevail'd
Against her better sense, and virtue fail'd ;
Enjoy, my child, fince such is thy defire,
Thy love, fhe faid; fhe durft not fay thy fire.
Live, though unhappy, live on any terms:
Then with a fecond oath her faith confirms.

The folemn feaft of Ceres now was near, When long white linen ftoles the matrons wear; Rank'd in proceffon walk the pious train, Offering first fruits, and fpikes of yellow grain: For nine long nights the nuptial bed they fhun, And, fanctifying harvest, lie alone.

Mix'd with the crowd, the queen forfook her lord,
And Ceres' power with secret rites ador'd
The royal couch, now vacant for a time,
The crafty crone, officious in her crime,
The curft occafion took, the king the found
Easy with wine, and deep in pleasure drown'd,
Prepar'd for love: the beldame blew the flame,
Confefs'd the paffion, but conceal'd the name.
Her form the prais'd; the monarch afk'd her
years,

And the reply'd, the fame that Myrrha bears.
Wine and commended beauty fir'd his thought;
Impatient, he commands her to be brought.
Pleas'd with her charge perform'd, the hics her
home,

And gratulates the nymph, the task was overcome.
Myrrha was joy'd the welcome news to hear;
But, clogg'd with guilt, the joy was infincere ;
So various, fo difcordant is the mind,
That in our will a different will we find.
Ill the prefag'd, and yet purfu'd her luft;
For guilty pleasures give a double gust.
'Twas depth of night: Arctophylax had driven
His lazy wain half round the northern heaven,
When Myrrha haften'd to the crime defir'd;
The moon beheld her first, and first retir'd;
The stars amaz'd ran backward from the fight,
And, fhrunk within their fockets, loft their light.
Icarius firft withdraws his holy flame:
The virgin fign, in heaven the fecond name,
Slides down the belt, and from her ftation flies,
And night with fable clouds involves the skies.
Bold Myrrha ftill purfues her black intent:
She ftumbled thrice, (an omen of th' event;)
Thrice fhriek'd the funeral owl, yet on the

went,

Secure of fhame, becaufe fecure of fight;
Ev'n bashful £ns are impudent by night.
Link'd hand in hand, th' accomplice and the
dame,

Their way exploring, to the chamber came:
The door was ope, they blindly grope the way,
Where dark in bed th' expecting monarch lay;