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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 Laft: The Reader is onLy to take notice, that Orpheus, whorelates 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, foon after the first Lines of this Fable.

OR him alone producd the fruitful

Queen;
But Cinyras, who like his Sire had
been

OF
A happy Prince, had he not been a Sire.
Daughters and Fathers from my Song retire;
I sing of Horror ; and, could I prevail,'
You shou'd 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 cou'd 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 Cinamon, and fweet Amomum boast,
Her fragrant Flow’rs, 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?

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Nor all her od'rous 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 hate thy Sire, had merited a Curse;
But such an impious Love deserv'd a worse.
The Neighb'ring 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 chuse, alone.
She knew it too, the miserable Maid,
Ere impious Love her better Thoughts betray’d,
And thus within her secret Soul she said :

Ah Myrrha! whither wou'd thy Wishes tend? Y Ye Gods, ye sacred Laws, my Soul defend

From such a Crime, as all Mankind detest, And never lodg'd before in Human Breaft! But is it Şin? 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!

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The Father-Bull his Daughter may bestride,
The Horse may make his Mother Marea Bride ;
What Piety forbids the lusty Ram,
Or more salacious Goat, to cut their Dam ?
The Hen is free to wed the 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 Sindisturb their Peace of Mind.
But Man, a Slave of his own making lives;
The Fool denies himself what Nature gives:
Too busie Senates, with an Over-care
To make us better than our Kind can bear;
Hayé dash'd a Spice of Envy in the Laws,
And straining up too high, have spoild 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 joind,
And Piety is doubly paid in Kind.
O that I had been born in such a Clime,
Not here, where 'tis the Country makes the Crime!
But whither wou'd my impious Fancy stray?
Hence Hopes, and ye forbidden Thoughts away!

His Worth deserves to kindle my Desires,
But with the Love, that Daughters bear to Sires.
Then had not Cinyras my Father been,
What hinder's Myrrha's Hopes to be his Queen?
But the Perverseness of my Fate is such,
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 must unite,
Some Distance is requir'd to help the Sight:
Fain wou'd I travel to some Foreign Shore,
Never to see my Native Country more,
So might I to my self my self restore;
So might my Mind these impious Thoughts remove,
And ceasing to behold, might cease to love.
But stay I must, to feed my familh'd Sight,
To talk, to kiss; and more, if more I might:
More, impious Maid ! What more canst thou

design,
To make a monstrous Mixture in thy Line,
And break all Statutes Human and Divine?
Canst thou be callid (to save thy wretched Life)
Thy Mother's Rival, and thy Father's Wife?

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