Than he to whom your formal father ty'd
Your vows, and fold a flave, not sent a bride.
Thus while he spoke, he feiz'd the willing prey,
As Paris bore the Spartan fpoufe away.

Faintly the fcream'd, and ev'n her eyes confefs'd
She rather would be thought, than was distress'd.
Who now exults but Cymon in his mind?
Vain hopes and empty joys of human kind,
Proud of the prefent, to the future blind!
Secure of fate, while Cymon plows the fea,
And steers to Candy with his conquer'd prey,
Scarce the third glass of measur'd hours was run,
When like a fiery meteor funk the fun;
The promise of a storm; the shifting gales
Forfake by fits, and fill the flagging fails;
Hoarfe murmurs of the main from far were heard,
And night came on, not by degrees prepar'd,
But all at once; at once the winds arife,
The thunders roll, the forky lightning flies.
In vain the mafter iffues out commands,
In vain the trembling failors ply their hands:
The tempest unforeseen prevents their care,
And from the first they labor in despair.
The giddy fhip betwixt the winds and tides,
Forc'd back, and forwards, in a circle rides,

Stunn'dwith the diff'rent blows; then shoots amain,
Till counterbuff'd, fhe ftops, and fleeps again.
Not more aghaft the proud archangel fell,
Plung'd from the height of heav'n to deepest hell,
Than ftood the lover of his love poffefs'd,

Now curs'd the more, the more he had been blefs'd;
More anxious for her danger, than his own,
Death he defies; but would be loft alone,
Sad Iphigene to womanish complaints
Adds pious pray'rs, and wearies all the faints;
Ev'n, if she could, her love fhe would repent,
But fince the cannot, dreads the punishment:
Her forfeit faith, and Pafimond betray'd,
Are ever present, and her crime upbraid.
She blames herself, nor blames her lover lefs,
Augments her anger, as her fears increase:
From her own back the burden would remove,
And lays the load on his ungovern'd love,
Which interpofing durft in heav'n's despite,
Invade, and violate another's right:

The pow'rs incens'd a while deferr'd his pain,
And made him master of his vows in vain :
But foon they punish'd his presumptuous pride;
That for his daring enterprize she dy'd;
Who rather not refifted, than comply'd.

Then impotent of mind, with alter'd fenfe, She hugg'd th' offender, and forgave th' offence, Sex to the laft: mean time with fails declin'd The wandring veffel drove before the wind: Tofs'd and retofs'd, aloft, and then allow Nor port they feek, nor certain course they know, But ev'ry moment wait the coming blow. Thus blindly driv'n, by breaking day they view'd The land before them, and their fears renew'd; The land was welcome, but the tempest bore The threaten'd ship against a rocky shore.

A winding bay was near; to this they bent, And just escap'd; their force already spent : Secure from ftorms, and panting from the sea, The land unknown at leifure they furvey; And faw (but foon their fickly fight withdrew) The rifing towers of Rhodes at distant view; And curs'd the hoftile fhore of Pafimond, Sav'd from the feas, and fhipwreck'd on the ground. The frighted failors try'd their ftrength in vain To turn the flern, and tempt the stormy-main; But the ftiff wind withstood the lab'ring oar, And forc'd then forward on the fatal fhore ! The crooked keel now bites the Rhodian firand, And the hip moor'd contrains the crew to land:

Yet ftill they might be fafe, because unknown,
But as ill fortune feldom comes alone,

The veffel they difmifs'd was driv'n before,
Already shelter'd on their native shore ;

Known each, they know; but each with change

The vanquish'd fide exults; the victors fear; Not them but theirs, made pris'ners ere they fight, Defpairing conqueft, and depriv'd of flight.

The country rings around with loud alarms, And raw in fields the rude militia fwarms; Mouths without hands; maintain'd at vaft expence, In peace a charge, in war a weak defence: Stout once a month they march, a bluft'ring band, And ever, but in times of need, at hand; This was the morn when iffuing on the guard, Drawn up in rank and file they stood prepar'd Of feeming arms to make a fhort effay, Then haften to be drunk, the bus'nefs of the day.

The cowards would have fled, but that they knew Themselves fo many, and their foes fo few; But crowding on, the last the first impel : Till overborn with weight the Cyprians fell. Cymon inflav'd, who first the war begun, And Iphigene once more is loft and won.

Deep in a dungeon was the captive caft,
Depriv'd of day, and held in fetters faft:

His life was only fpar'd at their request,
Whom taken he fo nobly had releas'd :
But Iphigenia was the ladies care,

Each in their turn addrefs'd to treat the fair;
While Pafimond and his the nuptial feast prepare.
Her fecret foul to Cymon was inclin'd,
But she must suffer what her fates affign'd;
So paffive is the church of womankind.
What worse to Cymon could his fortune deal,
Roll'd to the lowest spoke of all her wheel?
It refted to difmifs the downward weight,
Or raise him upward to his former height;
The latter pleas'd; and love (concern'd the most)
Prepar'd th' amends, for what by love he loft.
The fire of Pafimond had left a fon,
Tho younger, yet for courage early known,
Ormifda call'd, to whom by promise ty'd,
A Rhodian beauty was the deftin'd bride;
Caffandra was her name, above the reft
Renown'd for birth, with fortune amply blefs'd.
Lyfimachus, who rul'd the Rhodian ftate,
Was then by choice their annual magistrate :
He lov'd Caffandra too with equal fire,
But fortune had not favor'd his defire;