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 immediately 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:
Put 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 burt 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 hand 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,
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.

[prise.

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

follows the end of the last: the reader is only to take notice, that Orpheus, who relates both, was by birth a Thracian; and his country far distant from Cyprus where Myrrha was born, and from Arabia whither she fled. You will see the reason of this note, soon after the first lines of this fable.

retire:

NOR him alone produc'd the fruitful queen;
But Cinyras, who, like his sire, had been
A happy prince, had he not been a sire.
Daughters and fathers, from my song
I sing of horrour; and, could I prevail,
You should not hear, or not believe, my tale.
Yet if the pleasure of my song be such,
That you will hear, and credit me too much,
Attentive listen to the last event,

And with the sin believe the punishment:
Since Nature could behold so dire a crime,
I gratulate at least my native clime,

That such a land, which such a monster bore,
So far is distant from our Thracian shore.
Let Araby extol her happy coast,

Her cinnamon and sweet amomum boast,

Her fragrant flowers, her trees with precious tears,
Her second harvests, and her double years;
How can the land be call'd so bless'd, that Myrrha

bears?

Not all her odorous tears can cleanse her crime,
Her plant alone deforms the happy clime:
Cupid denies to have inflam'd thy heart,
Disowns thy love, and vindicates his dart;
Some fury gave thee those infernal pains,
And shot her venom'd vipers in thy veins.
To bate thy sire, had merited a curse:
But such an impious love deserv'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 miserable maid,
Ere impious love her better thoughts betray'd,
And thus within her secret soul she said:
"Ab Myrrha! whither would thy wishes tend?
Ye gods, ye sacred laws, my soul defend
From such a crime as all mankind detest,
And never lodg'd before in human breast!
But is it sin? Or makes my mind alone
Th' imagin'd sin? 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 lusty ram,

Or more salacious goat, to rut their dam?
The hen is free to wed her chick she bore,
And make a husband, whom she hatch'd before.
All creatures else are of a happier kind,
Whom nor ill-natur'd laws from pleasure bind,
Nor thoughts of sin disturb their peace of mind.
But man a slave of his own making lives;
The fool denies himself what Nature gives:
Too busy senates, with an over-care
To make us better than our kind can bear,
Have dash'd a spice of envy in the laws,
And, straining up too high, have spoil'd the cause.
Yet some wise nations break their cruel chains,
And own no laws, but those which love ordains:
Where happy daughters with their sires are join'd,
And piety is doubly paid in kind.

[sign,

hands,

fer?

The blushing maid stood silent with surprise,
And on her father fix'd her ardent eyes,
And looking sigh'd: and as she sigh'd, began
Round tears to shed, that scalded as they ran.
The tender sire, who saw her blush and cry,
Ascrib'd it all to maiden-modesty;

And dry'd the falling-drops, and, yet more kind,
He strok'd her cheeks, and holy kisses join'd:
She felt a secret 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 best; she answer'd, "One like you."
Mistaking what she meant, her pious will
He prais'd, and bade her so continue still:
The word of pious heard, she blush'd with shame
Of secret guilt, and could not bear the name.

'Twas now the mid of night, when slumbers close
Our eyes, and sooth our cares with soft repose;
But no repose could wretched Myrrha find,
Her body rolling, as she roll'd her mind:
Mad with desire, she ruminates her sin,
And wishes all her wishes o'er again.

The stars amaz'd ran backward from the sight, And, shrunk within their sockets, lost their light. Icarius first withdraws his holy flame: The Virgin sign, in Heaven the second name, Slides down the belt, and from her station flies, And night with sable clouds involves the skies. Bold Myrrha still pursues her black intent: She stumbled thrice, (an omen of th' event ;) Thrice shriek'd the funeral owl, yet on she went, Secure of shame, because secure of sight; Ev'n bashful sins 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 their way, Where dark in bed th' expecting monarch lay; Thus far her courage held, but here forsakes; Her faint knees knock at every step she makes. The nearer to her crime, the more within She feels remorse, and horrour of her sin; Repents too late her criminal desire, And wishes, that unknown she could retire. Her lingering thus, the nurse (who fear'd delay The fatal secret might at length betray) Pull'd forward, to complete the work begun, And said to Cinyras, "Receive thy own:" Thus saying, she deliver'd kind to kind, Accurs'd, and their devoted bodies join'd. The sire, unknowing of the crime, admits His bowels, and profanes the hallow'd sheets; He found she trembled, but believ'd she strove With maiden modesty, against her love; [move. And sought with flattering words vain fancies to rePerhaps he said, "My daughter, cease thy fears," (Because the title suited with her years) And, "Father," she might whisper him again, That names might not be wanting to the sin. Full of her sire, she left th' incestuous bed, And carried in her womb the crime she bred: Another, and another night she came ; For frequent sin had left no sense of shame: Till Cinvras desir'd to see her face, Whose body be had held in close embrace, And brought a taper; the revealer, Light, Expos'd both crime and criminal to sight: Grief, rage, amazement, could no speech afford, But from the sheath he drew th' avenging sword: The guilty fled; the benefit of night, That favour'd first the sin, secur'd the flight. Long wandering through the spacious fields, she Her voyage to th' Arabian continent; [bent Then pass'd the region which Panchæa join'd, And flying left the balmy plains behind. [length Nine times the Moon had mew'd her horns; at With travel weary, unsupply'd with strength, And with the burthen of her womb oppress'd, Sabæan fields afford her needful rest: There, loathing life, and yet of death afraid, In anguish of her spirit, thus she pray'd: "Ye powers, if any so propitious are Taccept my penitence, and hear my prayer; Your judgments, I confess, are justly sent: Great sins, deserve as great a punishment: Yet since my life the living will profane, And since my death the happy dead will stain, A middle state your mercy may bestow, Betwixt the realms above, and those below: Some oth r form to wretched Myrrha give, Nor let her wholly die, norwholly live." The prayers of penitents are never vain ; At least, she did her last request obtain;

VOL. IX.

For, while she spoke, the ground began to rise,
And gather'd round her feet, her legs, and thighs:
Her toes in roots descend, and, spreading wide,
A firm foundation for the trunk provide:
Her solid bones convert to solid wood,

To pith her marrow, and to sap her blood :
Her arms are boughs, her fingers change their kind,
Her tender skin is harden'd into rind.

And now the rising tree her womb invests,
Now, shooting upwards still, invades her breasts,
And shades the neck; and, weary with delay,
She sunk her head within, and met it half the way.
And though with outward shape she lost her sense,
With bitter tears she wept her last offence;
And still she weeps, nor sheds her tears in vain;
For still the precious drops her name retain.
Mean time the misbegotten infant grows,
And, ripe for birth, distends with deadly throes
The swelling rind, with unavailing strife,
To leave the wooden womb, and pushes into life.
The mother-tree, as if oppress'd with pain,
Writhes here and there, to break the bark, in vain:
And, like a labouring woman, would have pray'd,
But wants a voice to call Lucina's aid:
The bending bole sends out a hollow sound,
And trickling tears fall thicker on the ground.
The mild Lucina came uncall'd, and stood
Beside the struggling boughs, and heard the

groaning wood:

Then reach'd her midwife hand, to speed the throes, And spoke the powerful spells that babes to birth The bark divides, the living load to free, [disclose. And safe delivers the convulsive Tree.

The ready nymphs receive the crying child,
And wash him in the tears the parent plant distill'd.
They swath'd him with their scarfs; beneath him
spread
[head.

The ground with herbs; with roses rais'd his
The lovely babe was born with every grace:
Ev'n Envy must have prais'd so fair a face:
Such was his form, as painters, when they show
Their utmost art, on naked Loves bestow :
And that their arms no difference might betray,
Give him a bow, or his from Cupid take away.
Time glides along with undiscover'd haste,
The future but a length behind the past:
So swift are years, the babe, whom just before
His grandsire got, and whom his sister bore;
The drop, the thing which late the tree enclos'd,
And late the yawning bark to life expos'd;
A babe, a boy, a beauteous youth appears;
And lovelier than himself at riper years.
Now to the queen of love he gave desires,
And, with her pains, reveng'd his mother's fires.

CEYX AND ALCYONE. OUT OF THE TENTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

Connection of this Fable with the former. Ceyx, the son of Lucifer (the morning star), and king of Trachin in Thessaly, was married to Alcyone daughter to Eolus god of the winds. Both the husband and the wife loved each other with an entire affection. Dædalion, the elder brother of Ceyx, whom he succeeded, having

K

been turned into a falcon by Apollo; and Chione, Dædalion's daughter, slain by Diana; Ceyx prepared a ship to sail to Claros, there to consult the oracle of Apollo, and (as Ovid seems to intimate) to inquire how the anger of the gods might be atoned.

THESE prodigies affect the pious prince, [since,
But, more perplex'd with those that happen'd
He purposes to seek the Clarian god,
Avoiding Delphos, his more fam'd abode,
Since Phlegian robbers made unsafe the road.
Yet could not he, from her he lov'd so well,
The fatal voyage, he resolv'd, conceal :
But when she saw her lord prepar'd to part,
A deadly cold ran shivering to her heart:
Her faded cheeks are chang'd to boxen hue,
And in her eyes the tears are ever new :
She thrice essay'd to speak; her accents hung,
And faltering dy'd unfinish'd on her tongue,
Or vanish'd into sighs: with long delay

Her voice return'd; and found the wonted way.
"Tell me, my lord," she said, "what fault unknown
Thy once-belov'd Alcyone has done?
Whither, ah whither is thy kindness gone?
Can Ceyx then sustain to leave his wife,
And, unconcern'd, forsake the sweets of life?
What can thy mind to this long journey move,
Or need'st thou absence to renew thy love?
Yet, if thou goest by land, though grief possess
My soul ev'n then, my fears will be the less.
But ah! be warn'd to shun the watery way,
The face is frightful of the stormy sea.
For late I saw a-drift disjointed planks,
And empty tombs erected on the banks.
Nor let false hopes to trust betray thy mind,
Because my sire in caves constrains the wind,
Can with a breath a clamorous rage appease,
They fear his whistle, and forsake the seas;
Not so, for, once indulg'd, they sweep the main,
Deaf to the call, or hearing hear in vain ;
But, bent on mischief, bear the waves before,
And, not content with seas, insult the shore;
When ocean, air, and earth, at once engage,
And rooted forests fly before their rage:
At once the clashing clouds to battle move,
And lightnings run across the fields above:

I know them well, and mark'd their rude comport,
While yet a child, within my father's court:
In times of tempest they command alone,
And he but sits precarious on the throne:
The more I know, the more my fears augment,
And fears are oft prophetic of th' event.
But, if not fears or reasons will prevail,
If Fate has fix'd thee obstinate to sail,
Go not without thy wife, but let me bear
My part of danger with an equal share,
And present suffer what I only fear:
Then o'er the bounding billows shall we fly,
Secure to live together, or to die.”

These reasons mov'd her starlike husband's heart,
But still he held his purpose to depart :
For, as he lov'd her equal to his life,
He would not to the seas expose his wife;
Nor could be wrought his voyage to refrain,
But sought by arguments to sooth her pain;
Nor these avail'd; at length he lights on one,
With which so difficult a cause he won:
"My love, so short an absence cease to fear,
For, by my father's holy flame, I swear,

|

Before two Moons their orb with light adorn,
If Heaven allow me life, I will return."

This promise of so short a stay prevails;
He soon equips the ship, supplies the sails,
And gives the word to lanch; she trembling views
This pomp of death, and parting tears renews:
Last, with a kiss, she took a long farewel,
Sigh'd, with a sad presage, and swooning fell:
While Ceyx seeks delays, the lusty crew,
Rais'd on their banks, their oars in order drew
To their broad breasts, the ship with fury flew.
The queen, recover'd, rears her humid eyes,
And first her husband on the poop espies
Shaking his hand at distance on the main ;
She took the sign, and shook her hand again.
Still as the ground recedes, retracts her view
With sharpen'd sight, till she no longer knew
The much-lov'd face; that comfort lost supplies
With less, and with the galley feeds her eyes;
The galley borne from view by rising gales,
She followed with her sight the flying sails:
When ev'n the flying sails were seen no more,
Forsaken of all sight, she left the shore.

Then on her bridal bed her body throws, And sought in sleep her weary'd eyes to close: Her husband's pillow, and the widow'd part Which once he press'd, renew'd the former smart. And now a breeze from shore began to blow, The sailors ship their oars, and cease to row; Then hoist their yards a-trip, and all their sails Let fall, to court the wind, and catch the gales : By this the vessel half her course had run, And as much rested till the rising Sun; Both shores were lost to sight, when at the close Of day, a stiffer gale at east arose : The sea grew white, the rolling waves from far, Like heralds, first denounce the watery war.

This seen, the master soon began to cry, "Strike, strike the topsail; let the main-sheet fly, And furl your sails:" the winds repel the sound, And in the speaker's mouth the speech is drown'd. Yet, of their own accord, as danger taught, Each in his way, officiously they wrought; Some stow their oars, or stop the leaky sides, Another, bolder yet, the yard bestrides, And folds the sails; a fourth, with labour, laves Th' intruding seas, and waves ejects on waves.

In this confusion while their work they ply, The winds augment the winter of the sky, And wage intestine wars; the suffering seas Are toss'd, and mingled as their tyrants please. The master would command, but, in despair Of safety, stands amaz'd with stupid care, Nor what to bid or what forbid he knows, Th' ungovern'd tempest to such fury grows; Vain is his force, and vainer is his skill; With such a concourse comes the flood of ill: The cries of men are mix'd with rattling shrowds; Seas dash on seas, and clouds encounter clouds: At once from east to west, from pole to pole, The forky lightnings flash, the roaring thunders roll.

Now waves on waves ascending scale the skies, And, in the fires above, the water fries: When yellow sands are sifted from below, The glittering billows give a golden show: And when the fouler bottom spews the black, The Stygian die the tainted waters take: Then frothy white appear the flatted seas, And change their colour, changing their disease.