Their ufelefs torches on dry hedges throw,
That catch the flames, and kindle all the row;
So burns the God, confuming in defire,
And feeding in his breaft the fruitless fire:
Her well-turn'd neck he view'd (her neck was bare)
And on her fhoulders her difhevel'd hair:
Oh were it comb'd, faid he, with what a grace
Wou'd ev'ry waving curl become her face!
He view'd her eyes, like heav'nly lamps that fhone;
He view'd her lips, too fweet to view alone,
Her taper fingers, and her panting breaft;
He praises all he fees, and for the reft
Believes the beauties yet unfeen are best.
Swift as the wind, the damfel fled away,
Nor did for these alluring speeches stay :
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 purfuing Falcons fearful Doves;
'Thou fhunn'ft a God, and fhunn'ft a God, that loves.
Ah left fome thorn should pierce thy tender foot,
Or thou fhould't fall in flying my purfuit!
To sharp uneven ways thy steps decline;
Abate thy fpeed, and I will bate of mine.
Yet think from whom thou doft fo rafhly fly;
Nor bafely born, nor fhepherd's fwain am I.
Perhaps thou know'ft not my superior state;
And from that ignorance proceeds thy hate.
Me Claros, Delphos, Tenedos obey;
Thefe hands the Patareian fcepter fway.
The king of Gods begot me: what shall be,
Or is, or ever was, in fate, I fee.
Mine is th' invention of the charming lyre;
Sweet notes, and heav'nly numbers 1 infpire.
Sure is my bow unerring is my dart;
But ah! more deadly his, who pierc'd my heart.
Med'cine is mine, what herbs and fimples grow
In fields and forefts, all their pow'rs I know;
And am the great phyfician call'd below.
Alas, that fields and forefts can afford
No remedies to heal their love-fick lord!
To cure the pains of love, no plant avails ;
And his own phyfic the physician fails.
She heard not half, fo furiously the flies,
And on her ear th' imperfect accent dies.
Fear gave her wings; and as the fled, the wind
Increafing fpread 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 lofe his time in empty compliment:
But led by love, and fir'd by fuch a fight,
Impetuously purfu'd his near delight.
As when th' impatient greyhound, flipt from far,
Bounds o'er the glebe, to courfe the fearful hare,
She in her speed does all her fafety lay;
And he with double fpeed purfues the prey;
O'er-runs her at the fitting turn, and licks
His chaps in vain, and blows upon the flix:
She fcapes, and for the neighb'ring covert strives,
And gaining shelter doubts if yet the lives:
If little things with great we may compare,
Such was the God, and fuch the flying fair:
She, urg'd by fear, her feet did fwiftly move,
But he more swiftly who was urg'd by love.
He gathers ground upon her in the chace :
Now breathes upon her hair, with nearer pace;
And juft is faft'ning on the wifh'd embrace.
The nymph grew pale, and in a mortal fright,
Spent with the labour of fo long a flight;
And now despairing caft a mournful look,
Upon the freams of her paternal brook :
Oh help the cry'd, in this extremeft need,
If Water-Gods are Deities indeed:
Gape, earth, and this unhappy wretch intomb:
Or change my form whence all my forrows come.
Scarce had fhe finish'd, when her feet fhe found
Benumb'd with cold, and faften'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 fmoothness of her fkin remains alone.
Yet Phoebus loves her ftill, and, cafting round
Her bole, his arms; fome little warmth he found.
The tree ftill panted in th' unfinish'd part,
Not wholly vegetive, and heav'd her heart.
He fix'd his lips upon the trembling rind;
It fwerv'd afide, and his embrace declin'd.
To whom the God: Because thou canst not be
My mistress, I efpoufe thee for my tree:
Be thou the prize of honour and renown;
The deathless poet, and the poem, crown.
Thou shalt the Roman feftivals adorn,
And, after poets, be by victors worn.
Thou shalt returning Cæfar's triumph grace;
When pomps shall in a long proceffion pass:
Wreath'd on the poft before his palace wait;
And be the facred guardian of the gate:
Secure from thunder, and unharm'd by Jove,
Unfading as th' immortal pow'rs above:
And as the locks of Phoebus are unshorn,
So fhall perpetual green thy boughs adorn.
The grateful tree was pleas'd with what he faid,
And shook the fhady honours of her head.
The TRANSFORMATION of IO into a HEIFER
An ancient forest in Theffalia grows;
Which Tempe's pleafant valley does inclofe:
Thro' this the rapid Peneas takes his course;
From Pindus rolling with impetuous force :
Mifts from the river's mighty fall arise;
And deadly damps inclose the cloudy skies :
Perpetual fogs are hanging o'er the wood;
And founds of waters deaf the neighbourhood.
Deep, in a rocky cave, he makes abode :
A manfion proper for a mourning God.
Here he gives audience; iffuing out decrees
To rivers, his dependent Deities..
On this occafion hither they refort,
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, Amphryfos tame;
And as laft with lagging waters came.
Then of his kindred brooks a num'rous throng
Condole his lofs, and bring their urns along.
Not one was wanting of the watry train,
That fill'd his flood, or mingled with the main,
But Inachus, who, in his cave alone,
Wept not another's loffes, but his own;
For his dear Io, whether ftray'd, or dead,
To him uncertain, doubtful tears he fhed.
He fought her thro' the world, but fought in vain ;
And, no where finding, rather fear'd her flain.
Her juft returning from her father's brook, Jove had beheld her, with a defiring look;
And, oh, fair daughter of the flood, he faid,
Worthy alone of Jove's imperial bed,
Happy whoever fhall thofe charms poffefs;
The king of Gods (nor is thy lover lefs)
Invites thee to yon cooler fhades, to fhun
The scorching rays of the meridian sun.
Nor fhalt thou tempt the dangers of the grove
Alone without a guide; thy guide is Jove.
No puny pow'r, but he, whofe high command
Is unconfin'd, who rules the feas and land,
And tempers thunder in his awful hand.
Oh fly not for fhe fled from his embrace
O'er Lerna's pastures: he purfu'd the chace
Along the fhades 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 fupprefs'd her flight,
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 mift fhould over-run
The face of day-light and obfcure the fun.
No nat'ral caufe fhe found, from brooks or bogs,
Or marshy lowlands to produce the fogs:
Then round the skies fhe fought for Jupiter,
Her faithlefs hufband; but no Jove was there.
Sufpecting now the worft, or I, fhe said,
Am much mistaken, or am much betray'd.
With fury the precipitates her flight;
Difpels the shadows of diffembled night,
And to the day reftores his native light.
Th' almighty leacher careful to prevent
The confequence, foreseeing her defcent,
Transforms his mistress in a trice and now
In Io's place appears a lovely cow.
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