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THE TRANSFORMATION OF DAPHNE
INTO A LAUREL.

THE first and fairest of his loves was she
Whom not blind Fortune, but the dire decree
Of angry Cupid forc'd him to desire:
Daphne her name, and Peneus was her sire.
Swell'd with the pride that new success attends,
He sees the stripling, while his bow he bends,
And thus insults him: "Thou lascivious boy,
Are arms like these for children to employ ?
Know, such achievements are my proper claim;
Due to my vigour and unerring aim:
Resistless are my shafts; and Python late,
In such a feather'd death, has found his fate.
Take up thy torch, and lay my weapons by ;
With that the feeble souls of lovers fry."
To whom the son of Venus thus reply'd:
"Phoebus, thy shafts are sure on all beside;
But mine on Phoebus: mine the fame shall be
Of all thy conquests, when I conquer thee."

He said, and soaring swiftly wing'd his flight;
Nor stopt but on Parnassus' airy height.
Two different shafts he from his quiver draws;
One to repel desire, and one to cause.
One shaft is pointed with refulgent gold,
To bribe the love, and make the lover bold:
One blunt, and tipt with lead, whose base allay
Provokes disdain, and drives desire away.
The blunted bolt against the nymph he drest:
But with the sharp transfix'd Apollo's breast.

Th' enamour'd deity pursues the chase;
The scornful damsel shuns his loath'd embrace :
In hunting beasts of prey her youth employs;
And Phoebe rivals in her rural joys.
With naked neck she goes, and shoulders bare,
And with a fillet binds her flowing hair.
By many suitors sought, she mocks their pains,
And still her vow'd virginity maintains.
Impatient of a yoke, the name of bride
She shuns, and hates the joys she never try'd.
On wilds and wood she fixes her desire:
Nor knows what youth and kindly love inspire.
Her father chides her oft: "Thou ow'st," says he,
"A husband to thyself, a son to me."
She, like a crime, abhors the nuptial bed:
She glows with blushes, and she hangs her head.
Then, casting round his neck her tender arms,
Soothes him with blandishments and filial charms:
"Give me, my lord," she said, " to lie, and die,
A spotless maid, without the marriage-tie.
'Tis but a small request; I beg no more
Than what Diana's father gave before."
The good old sire was soften'd to consent;
But said, her wish would prove her punishment:
For so much youth, and so much beauty join'd,
Oppos'd the state, which her desires design'd.

The god of light, aspiring to her bed,
Hopes what he seeks, with flattering fancies fed;
And is by his own oracles misled.
And as in empty fields the stubble burns,
Or nightly travellers, when day returns,
Their useless torches on dry hedges throw,
That catch the flames, and kindle all the row;
So burns the god, consuming in desire,
And feeding in his breast the fruitless fire:
Her well-turn'd neck he view'd (her neck was bare)
And on her shoulders her dishevell'd hair:

"Oh, were it comb'd," said he, "with what a grace
Would every waving curl become her face!"

He view'd her eyes, like heavenly lamps that
shone!

He view'd her lips, too sweet to view alone,
Her taper fingers, and her panting breast;
He praises all he sees, and for the rest
Believes the beauties yet unseen are best.
Swift as the wind, the damsel fled away,
Nor did for these alluring speeches stay:

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'Stay, nymph," he cry'd, "I follow, not a foe:
Thus from the lion trips the trembling doe;
Thus from the wolf the frighten'd lamb removes,
And from pursuing falcons fearful doves;
Thou shunn'st a god, and shunn'st a god, that
loves.

Ah, lest some thorn should pierce thy tender foot,
Or thou should'st fall in flying my pursuit!
To sharp uneven ways thy steps decline;
Abate thy speed, and I will bate of mine.
Yet think from whom thou dost so rashly fly;
Nor basely born, nor shepherd's swain am I.
.Perhaps thou know'st not my superior state;
And from that ignorance proceeds thy hate.
Me Claros, Delphos, Tenedos obey:

These hands the Patareian sceptre sway.
The king of gods begot me: what shall be,
Or is, or ever was, in fate, I see.
Mine is th' invention of the charming lyre;
Sweet notes and heavenly numbers I inspire.
Sure is my bow, unerring is my dart;

But ab! more deadly his, who pierc'd my heart.
Med'cine is mine, what herbs and simples grow
In fields and forests, all their powers I know;
And am the great physician call'd below.
Alas, that fields and forests can afford
No remedies to heal their love-sick lord!
To cure the pains of love, no plant avails;
And his own physic the physician fails."

She heard not half, so furiously she flies,
And on her ear th' imperfect accent dies.
Fear gave her wings; and as she fled, the wind
Increasing spread her flowing hair behind;
And left her legs and thighs expos'd to view;
Which made the god more eager to pursue.
The god was young, and was too hotly bent
To lose bis time in empty compliment:
But, led by Love, and fir'd by such a sight,
Impetuously pursued his near delight.

As when th' impatient greyhound, slipt from far,
Bounds o'er the glebe, to course the fearful hare,
She in her speed does all her safety lay;
And he with double speed pursues the prey;
O'er-runs her at the sitting turn, and licks
His chaps in vain, and blows upon the flix:

She scapes, and for the neighbouring covert strives,
And, gaining shelter, doubts if yet she lives:
If little things with great we may compare,
Such was the god, and such the flying fair:
She, urg'd by fear, her feet did swiftly move;
But he more swiftly, who was urg'd by love.
He gathers ground upon her in the chase:
Now breathes upon her hair, with nearer pace;
And just is fastening on the wish'd embrace.
The nymph grew pale, and in a mortal fright,
Spent with the labour of so long a flight;
And now despairing cast a mournful look,
Upon the streams of her paternal brook :
"Oh, help," she cry'd, " in this extremest need,
If water-gods are deities indeed:
Gape, Earth, and this unhappy wretch entomb:
Or change my form whence all my sorrows come."

Scarce had she finish'd, when her feet she found
Benumb'd with cold, and fasten'd to the ground:
A filmy rind about her body grows,

Her hair to leaves, her arms extend to boughs:
The nymph is all into a laurel gone,
The smoothness of ber skin remains alone.
Yet Phoebus loves her still, and, casting round
Her bole, his arms, some little warmth he found.
The tree still panted in th' unfinish'd part,
Not wholly vegetive, and heav'd her heart.
He fix'd his lips upon the trembling rind;
It swerv'd aside, and his embrace declin'd.

To whom the god: "Because thou canst not be
My mistress, I espouse thee for my tree:
Be thou the prize of honour and renown;
The deathless poet, and the poem, crown.
Thou shalt the Roman festivals adorn,
And, after poets, be by victors worn.
Thou shalt returning Cæsar's triumph grace;
When pomps shall in a long procession pass:
Wreath'd on the post before his palace wait;
And be the sacred guardian of the gate:
Secure from thunder, and unharm'd by Jove,
Unfading as th' immortal powers above:
And as the locks of Phoebus are unshorn,
So shall perpetual green thy boughs adorn."
The grateful Tree was pleas'd with what he said,
And shook the shady honours of her head.

Invites thee to' yon cooler shades, to shun
The scorching rays of the meridian Sun.
Nor shalt thou tempt the dangers of the grove
Alone without a guide; thy guide is Jove.
No puny power, but he, whose high command
Is uncontin'd, who rules the seas and land,
And tempers thunder in his awful band,
Oh, fly not"-(for she fled from his embrace
O'er Lerna's pastures) he pursued the chase
Along the shades of the Lyrcæan plain;
At length the god who never asks in vain,
Involv'd with vapours, imitating night,
Both air and earth; and then suppress'd her
And, mingling force with love, enjoy'd the full

delight.

Mean-time the jealous Juno, from on high
Survey'd the fruitful fields of Arcady;

And wonder'd that the mist should over-run
The face of day-light, and obscure the Sun.

[flight,

No natural cause she found, from brooks or bogs,
Or marshy lowlands to produce the fogs:
Then round the skies she sought for Jupiter,
Her faithless husband; but no Jove was there.
Suspecting now the worst," Or I," she said,
"Am much mistaken, or am much betray'd."
With fury she precipitates her flight;
Dispels the shadows of dissembled night,
And to the day restores his native light.
Th' almighty leacher, careful to prevent
The consequence, foreseeing her descent,

THE TRANSFORMATION OF IO INTO AN Transforms his mistress in a trice: and now

HEIFER.

As ancient forest in Thessalia grows,
Which Tempe's pleasant valley does enclose;
Through this the rapid Peneus takes his course,
From Pindus rolling with impetuous force:
Mists from the river's mighty fall arise;
And deadly damps enclose the cloudy skies:
Perpetual fogs are hanging o'er the wood;
And sounds of waters deaf the neighbourhood:
Deep, in a rocky cave, he makes abode :
A mansion proper for a mourning god.
Here he gives audience; issuing out decrees
To rivers, his dependent deities.
On this occasion hither they resort,

To pay their homage, and to make their court,
All doubtful, whether to congratulate
His daughter's honour, or lament her fate.
Sperchæus, crown'd with poplar, first appears;
Then old Apidanus came crown'd with years:
Enipeus turbulent, Amphrysos tame;
And as last with lagging waters came.
Then of his kindred brooks a numerous throng
Condole his loss, and bring their urns along.
Not one was wanting of the watery train,
That fill'd his flood, or mingled with the main,
But Inachus, who, in his cave alone,
Wept not another's losses, but bis own;
For his dear lo, whether stray'd or dead,
To him uncertain, doubtful tears he shed.

In Io's place appears a lovely cow.

So sleek her skin, so faultless was her make,
Ev'n Juno did unwilling pleasure take

To see so fair a rival of her love;

And what she was, and whence, inquir'd of Jove:
Of what fair herd, and from what pedigree?
The god half-caught was forc'd upon a lie;
And said, she sprung from earth. She took the
word,

And begg'd the beauteous heifer of her lord.
What should he do? 'twas equal shame to Jove,
Or to relinquish, or betray his love:
Yet to refuse so slight a gift, would be
But more t' increase his consort's jealousy:
Thus Fear, and Love, by turns his heart assail'd;
And stronger Love had sure at length prevail'd;
But some faint hope remain'd, his jealous queen
Had not the mistress through the heifer seen.
The cautious goddess of her gift possest,
Yet harbour'd anxious thoughts within her breast;
As she who knew the falsehood of her Jove,
And justly fear'd some new relapse of love.
Which to prevent, and to secure her care,
To trusty Argus she commits the fair.

The head of Argus (as with stars the skies)
Was compass'd round, and wore an hundred eyes.
But two by turns their lids in slumber steep;
The rest on duty still their station keep;'
Nor could the total constellation sleep.
Thus, ever present to his eyes and mind,

He sought her through the world, but sought in His charge was still before him, though behind,

vain;

And, no where finding, rather fear'd her slain.

Her, just returning from her father's brook, Jove had beheld with a desiring look; "And, oh, fair daughter of the flood," he said, 'Worthy alone of Jove's imperial bed, Happy whoever shall those charms possess! The king of gods (nor is thy lover less)

In fields he suffer'd her to feed by day;
But, when the setting Sun to night gave way,
The captive cow he summon'd with a call,
And drove her back, and ty'd her to the stall.
On leaves of trees and bitter herbs she fed,
Heaven was her canopy, bare earth her bed;
So hardly lodg'd: and to digest her food,
She drank from troubled streams defil'd with mud.

Her woful story fain she would have told,
With hands upheld, but had no hands to hold.
Her head to her ungentle keeper bow'd,

She strove to speak; she spoke not, but she low'd.
Affrighted with the noise, she look'd around,
And seem'd t' inquire the author of the sound.

Once on the banks where often she had play'd (Her father's banks) she came, and there survey'd

Her alter'd visage, and her branching head;
And starting from herself she would have fled.
Her fellow-nymphs, familiar to her eyes,
Beheld, but know her not in this disguise.
Ev'n Inachus himself was ignorant;
And in his daughter did his daughter want.
She follow'd where her fellows went, as she
Were still a partner of the company:
They stroke her neck; the gentle heifer stands,
And her neck offers to their stroking hands:
Her father gave her grass; the grass she took,
And lick'd his palms, and cast a piteous look;
And in the language of her eyes she spoke.
She would have told her name, and ask'd relief,
But, wanting words, in tears she tells her grief;
Which with her foot she makes him understand,
And prints the name of Io in the sand.
"Ah wretched me!" her mournful father cry'd;
She with a sigh to wretched me reply'd:
About her milk-white neck his arms he threw,
And wept, and then these tender words ensue :
"And art thou she, whom I have sought around
The world, and have at length so sadly found?
So found, is worse than lost: with mutual words
Thou answer'st not, no voice thy tongue affords :
But sighs are deeply drawn from out thy breast;
And speech deny'd by lowing is express'd.
Unknowing, I prepar'd thy bridal bed,
With empty hopes of happy issue fed :
But now the husband of a herd must be
Thy mate, and bellowing sons thy progeny.
Oh, were I mortal, Death might bring relief!
But now my godhead but extends my grief;
Prolongs my woes, of which no end I see,
And makes me curse my immortality."
More had he said, but, fearful of her stay,
The starry guardian drove his charge away
To some fresh pasture; on a hilly height
He sate himself, and kept her still in sight.

THE EYES OF ARGUS TRANSFORMED INTO A PEACOCK'S TRAIN.

Now Jove no longer could her sufferings bear:
But call'd in haste his airy messenger,
The son of Maïa, with severe decree
To kill the keeper, and to set her free.
With all his harness soon the god was sped;
His flying hat was fasten'd on his head;
Wings on his heels were hung, and in his hand
He holds the virtue of the snaky wand.
The liquid air his moving pinions wound,
And, in the moment, shoot him on the ground,
Before he came in sight, the crafty god
His wings dismiss'd, but still retain'd his rod :
That sleep-procuring wand wise Hermes took,
But made it seem to sight a shepherd's hook.
With this he did a herd of goats control,
Which by the way he met, and slily stole.

Clad like a country swain, he pip'd, and sung; And playing drove his jolly troop along.

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With pleasure Argus the musician heeds; But wonders much at those new vocal reeds. "And whosoe'er thou art, my friend," said he, Up hither drive thy goats, and play by me: This hill has brouze for them, and shade for thee." The god, who was with ease induc'd to climb, Began discourse to pass away the time; And still betwixt his tuneful pipe he plies, And watch'd his hour, to close the keeper's eyes. With much ado, he partly kept awake; Not suffering all his eyes repose to take: And ask'd the stranger, who did reeds invent, And whence became so rare an instrument.

THE TRANSFORMATION OF SYRINX INTO

REEDS.

THEN Hermes thus; "A nymph of late there was,
Whose heavenly form her fellows did surpass.
The pride and joy of fair Arcadia's plains;
Belov'd by deities, ador'd by swains:
Syrinx her name, by Sylvans oft pårsu'd,
As oft she did the lustful gods delude:
The rural and the wood-land powers disdain'd;
With Cynthia hunted, and her rites maintain'd;
Like Phoebe clad, ev'n Phoebe's self she seems,
So tall, so straight, such well-proportion'd limbs:
The nicest eye did no distinction know,
But that the goddess bore a golden bow:
Distinguish'd thus, the sight she cheated too.
Descending from Lycæus, Pan admires

The matchless nymph, and burns with new desires.
A crown of pine upon his head he wore;
And thus began her pity to implore.
But, ere he thus began, she took her flight
So swift, she was already out of sight.
Nor stay'd to hear the courtship of the god;
But beat her course to Ladon's gentle flood:
There by the river stopt, and tir'd before,
Relief from water-nymphs her prayers implore.

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"Now while the lustful god, with speedy pace, Just thought to strain her in a strict embrace, He fills his arms with reeds, new rising on the place. And while he sighs his ill success to find, The tender canes were shaken by the wind; And breath'd a mournful air, unheard before; That, much surprising Pan, yet pleas'd him more. Admiring this new music, Thou,' he said, Who canst not be the partner of my bed, At least shall be the consort of my mind; And often, often, to my lips be join’d.' He form'd the reeds, proportion'd as they are: Unequal in their length, and wax'd with care, They still retain the name of his ungrateful fair." While Hermes pip'd, and sung, and told his tale, The keeper's winking eyes began to fail, And drowsy slumber on the lids to creep; Till all the watchman was at length asleep. Then soon the god his voice and song supprest; And with his powerful rod confirm'd his rest: Without delay his crooked falchion drew, And at one fatal stroke the keeper slew. Down from the rock fell the dissever'd head, Opening its eyes in death, and falling bled; And mark'd the passage with a crimson trail: Thus Argus lies in pieces, cold and pale;

And all his hundred eyes, with all their light,
Are clos'd at once, in one perpetual night.
These Juno takes, that they no more may fail,
And spreads them in her peacock's gaudy tail.
Impatient to revenge her injur'd bed,
She wreaks her anger on her rival's head;
With Furies frights her from her native home,
And drives her gadding round the world to roam:
Nor ceas'd her madness and her flight, before
She touch'd the limits of the Pharian shore.
At length, arriving on the banks of Nile,
Wearied with length of ways, and worn with toil,
She laid her down: and, leaning on her knees,
Invok'd the cause of all her miseries :
And cast her languishing regards above,
For help from Heaven, and her ungrateful Jove.
She sigh'd, she wept, she low'd; 'twas all she could;
And with unkindness seem'd to tax the god.
Last, with an humble prayer, she begg'd repose,
Or Death at least to finish all her woes.
Jove heard her vows, and, with a flattering look,
In her behalf to jealous Juno spoke.
He cast his arms about her neck, and said:
"Dame, rest secure; no more thy nuptial bed
This nymph shall violate; by Styx I swear,
And every oath that binds the thunderer."
The goddess was appeas'd: and at the word
Was Jo to her former shape restor❜d.
The rugged hair began to fall away;
The sweetness of her eyes did only stay,

Though not so large; her crooked horns decrease;
The wideness of her jaws and nostrils cease:
Her hoofs to hands return, in little space;
The five long taper fingers take their place;
And nothing of the heifer now is seen,
Beside the native whiteness of her skin.
Erected on her feet she walks again,
And two the duty of the four sustain.
She tries her tongue, her silence softly breaks,
And fears her former lowings when she speaks:
A goddess now through all th' Egyptian state;
And serv'd by priests, who in white linen wait.

Her son was Epaphus, at length believ'd
The son of Jove, and as a god receiv'd.
With sacrifice ador'd, and public prayers,
He common temples with his mother shares.
Equal in years, and rival in renown
With Epaphus, the youthful Phaëton,
Like honour claims, and boasts his sire the Sun.
His haughty looks, and his assuming air,
The son of Isis could no longer bear:
"Thou tak'st thy mother's word too far," said he,
"And hast usurp'd thy boasted pedigree.
Go, base pretender to a borrow'd name!"
Thus tax'd, he blush'd with anger, and with shame;
But shame repress'd his rage: the daunted youth
Soon seeks his mother, and inquires the truth:
"Mother," said he, "this infamy was thrown
By Epaphus on you, and me your son.
He spoke in public, told it to my face;

Nor durst I vindicate the dire disgrace:

Ev'n I, the bold, the sensible of wrong,

'Tis hard to judge if Clymene were mov'd More by his prayer, whom she so dearly lov'd, Or more with fury fir'd, to find her name Traduc'd, and made the sport of common Fame. She stretch'd her arms to Heaven, and fix'd her On that fair planet that adorns the skies; [eyes "Now by those beams," said she, "whose holy fires

Consume my breast, and kindle my desires;
By him who sees us both, and chears our sight,
By him, the public minister of light,
I swear that Sun begot thee: if I lie,
Let him his chearful influence deny:
Let him no more this perjur'd creature see,
And shine on all the world but only me.
If still you doubt your mother's innocence,
His eastern mansion is not far from hence;
With little pains you to his levee go,
And from himself your parentage may know."
With joy th' ambitious youth his mother heard,
And eager for the journey soon prepar'd.
He longs the world beneath him to survey;
To guide the chariot, and to give the day:
From Meroë's burning sands he bends his course,
Nor less in India feels his father's force;
His travel urging, till he came in sight,
And saw the palace by the purple light.

MELEAGER AND ATALANTA.

OUT OF THE EIGHTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

Connection to the former Story.

Ovid, having told how Theseus had freed Athens from the tribute of children, which was imposed on them by Minos king of Creta, by killing the Minotaur, here makes a digression to the story of Meleager and Atalanta, which is one of the most inartificial connections in all the Metamorphoses: for he only says, that Theseus obtained such honour from that combat, that all Greece had recourse to him in their necessities; and, amongst others, Calydon; though the hero of that country, prince Meleager, was then living.

FROM him, the Caledonians sought relief;
Though valiant Meleagrus was their chief.
The cause, a boar, who ravag'd far and near:
Of Cynthia's wrath, th' avenging minister.
For Oeneus, with autumnal.plenty bless'd,
In gifts to Heaven his gratitude express'd:
Cull'd sheaves, to Ceres; to Lyæus, wine;
To Pan, and Pales, offer'd sheep and kine;
And fat of olives, to Minerva's shrine.
Beginning from the rural gods, his hand
Was liberal to the powers of high command:
Each deity in every kind was bless'd,

Till at Diana's fane th' invidious honour ceas'd.

Restrain'd by shame, was forc'd to hold my tongue. Wrath touches ev'n the gods; the queen of night,

To hear an open slander, is a curse :
But not to find an answer, is a worse.
If I am Heaven-begot, assert your son
By some sure sign; and make my father known,
To right my honour, and redeem your own."
He said, and saying cast his arms about
Her neck, and begg'd her to resolve the doubt.

Fir'd with disdain, and jealous of her right, "Unhonour'd though I am, at least," said she, "Not unreveng'd that impious act shall be." Swift as the word, she sped the boar away, With charge on those devoted fields to prey. No larger bulls th' Ægyptian pastures feed, And none so large Sicilian meadows breed: "

His eye-balls glare with fire, suffus'd with blood; | Of action eager, and intent on thought,

His neck shoots up a thickset thorny wood;
His bristled back a trench impal'd appears,
And stands erected, like a field of spears.
Froth fills his chaps, he sends a grunting sound,
And part he churns, and part befoams the ground.
For tusks with Indian elephants he strove,
And Jove's own thunder from his mouth he drove.
He burns the leaves; the scorching blast invades
The tender corn, and shrivels up the blades:
Or, suffering not their yellow beards to rear, [year.
He tramples down the spikes, and intercepts the
In vain the barns expect their promis'd load,
Nor barns et home, nor reeks are heap'd abroad:
In vain the hinds the threshing-floor prepare,
And exercise their flails in empty air.
With olives ever green the ground is strow'd,
And grapes ungather'd shed their generous blood.
Amid the fold he rages, nor the sheep [keep.
Their shepherds, nor the grooms their bulls can
From fields to walls the frighted rabble run,
Nor think themselves secure within the town:
Till Meleagrus, and his chosen crew,
Contemn the danger, and the praise pursue.
Fair Leda's twins, (in time to stars decreed)
One fought on foot, one curb'd the fiery steed;
Then issu'd forth fam'd Jason after these,
Who mann'd the foremost ship that sail'd the seas;
Then Theseus join'd with bold Pirithous came:
A single concord in a double name:
The Thestian sons, Idas who swiftly ran,
And Ceneus, once a woman, now a man.
Lynceus, with eagle's eyes and lion's heart;
Leucippus, with his never-erring dart;
Acastus, Phileus, Phænix, Telamon,
Echion, Lelex, and Eurytion,

Achilles' father, and great Phocus' son;
Dryas the fierce, and Hippasus the strong;

With twice old Iolas, and Nester then but young.
Laertes active, and Ancæus bold;

Mopsus the sage, who future things foretold;
And t' other seer yet by his wife unsold.
A thousand others of immortal fame;
Among the rest fair Atalanta came,

Grace of the woods; a diamond buckle bound
Her vest behind, that else had flow'd upon the
ground,

And show'd her buskin'd legs; her head was bare,
But for her native ornament of hair;
Which in a simple knot was ty'd above,
Sweet negligence, unheeded bait of love!
Her sounding quiver on her shoulder ty'd,
One hand a dart, and one a bow supply'd.
Such was her face, as in a nymph display'd
A fair fierce boy, or in a boy betray'd
The blushing beauties of a modest maid.
The Caledonian chief at once the dame
Beheld, at once his heart receiv'd the flame,
With Heavens averse. "O happy youth," he cry'd;
"For whom thy Fates reserve so fair a bride!"
He sigh'd, and had no leisure more to say:
His honour call'd his eyes another way,
And fore'd him to pursue the now neglected prey.
There stood a forest on the mountain's brow,
Which over-look'd the shaded plains below,
No sounding ax presum'd those trees to bite;
Coeval with the world, a venerable sight.
The heroes there arriv'd, some spread around
The toils, some search the footsteps on the ground,
Some from the chains the faithful dogs unbound.

The chiefs their honourable danger sought:
A valley stood below; the common drain
Of waters from above, and falling rain:
The bottom was a moist and marshy ground,
Whose edges were with bending osiers crown'd;
The knotty bulrush next in order stood,
And all within of reeds a trembling wood. [amain,
From hence the boar was rous'd, and sprung
Like lightning sudden on the warrior-train;
Beats down the trees before him, shakes the ground,
The forest echoes to the crackling sound:
Shout the fierce youth, and clamours ring around.
All stood with their protended spears prepar'd,
With broad steel heads the brandish'd weapons
The beast impetuous with his tusks aside [glar'd.
Deals glancing wounds; the fearful dogs divide:
All spend their mouth aloft, but none abide.
Echion threw the first, but miss'd his mark,
And stuck his boar-spear on a maple's bark,
Then Jason; and his javelin seem'd to take, [back.
But fail'd with over-force, and whizz'd above his
Mopsus was next; but ere he threw, address'd
To Phoebus thus: "O patron, help thy priest.
If I adore, and ever have ador'd

Thy power divine, thy present aid afford;
That I may reach the beast." The god allow'd
His prayer, and, smiling, gave him what he could:
He reach'd the savage, but no blood he drew,
Dian unarm'd the javelin as it flew.

This chaf'd the boar, his nostrils flames expire,
And his red eye-balls roll with living fire.
Whirl'd from a sling, or from an engine thrown,
Amidst the foes, so flies a mighty stone,
As flew the beast; the left wing put to flight,
The chiefs o'erborn, he rushes on the right.
Empalamos and Pelagon he laid

In dust, and next to death, but for their fellows

aid.

Onesimus far'd worse, prepar'd to fly;

The fatal fang drove deep within his thigh,
And cut the nerves; the nerves no more sustain
The bulk; the bulk, unpropp'd, falls headlong on
the plain.

Nestor had fail'd the fall of Troy to see,
But, leaning on his lance, he vaulted on a tree;
Then, gathering up his feet, look'd down with fear,
And thought his monstrous foe was still too near.
Against a stump his tusk the monster grinds,
And in the sharpen'd edge new vigour finds;
Then, trusting to his arms, young Orthys found,
And ranch'd his hips with one continu'd wound.
Now Leda's twins, the future stars, appear:
White were their habits, white their horses were;
Conspicuous both, and both in act to throw,
Their trembling lances brandish'd at the foe:
Nor had they miss'd; but he to thickets fled,
Conceal'd from aiming spears, not pervious to
the steed.

But Telamon rush'd in, and hap'd to meet
A rising root, that held his fasten'd feet;
So down he fell, whom, sprawling on the ground,
His brother from the wooden gyves unbound.
Mean time the virgin-huntress was not slow
T' expel the shaft from her contracted bow:
Beneath his car the fasten'd arrow stood,
And from the wound appear'd the trickling blood.
She blush'd for joy: but Meleagrus rais'd

His voice with loud applause, and the fair archer
prais'd.

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