Confound fo many facred Names in one,
Thy Brother's Mother! Sister to thy Son!
And fear'ft thou not to fee th' Infernal Bands,
Their Heads with Snakes, with Torches arm'd
their Hands;
Full at thy Face, th' avenging Brands to bear,
And shake the Serpents from their hiffing Hair?
But thou in time th' increafing Ill controul,
Nor first debauch the Body by the Soul;
Secure the facred Quiet of thy Mind,
And keep the Sanctions Nature has defign'd.
Suppose I shou'd attempt, th' Attempt were vain,
No Thoughts like mine his finless Soul profane;
Obfervant of the Right; and O, that he
Cou'd cure my Madness, or be mad like me
Thus fhe: But Cinyras, who daily fees
A Crowd of Noble Suitors at his Knees,
Among fo many, knew not whom to chuse,
Irrefolute to grant, or to refuse.
But having told their Names, enquir'd of her,
Who pleas'd her beft, and whom she would prefer?
The blushing Maid ftood filent with Surprize,
And on her Father fix'd her ardent Eyes,
And looking figh'd, and as the figh'd, began
Round Tears to fhed, that fcalded as they ran.
The tender Sire, who faw her blush, and cry,
Afcrib'd it all to Maiden-modefty,
And dry'd the falling Drops, and yet more kind,
He stroak'd her Cheeks, and holy Kiffes join'd.
She felt a fecret Venom fire her Blood,
And found more Pleasure than a Daughter fhou'd;
And, ask'd again, what Lover of the Crew
She lik'd the belt, fhe answer'd, One like you.
Mistaking what she meant, her pious Will
He prais'd, and bad her fo continue ftill:
The Word of Pious heard, the blush'd with shame
Of fecret Guilt, and cou'd not bear the Name.
'Twas now the mid of Night,whenSlumbers clofe
Our Eyes, and footh our Cares with soft Repose;
But no Repose cou'd wretched Myrrha find,
Her Body rouling, as fhe roul'd her Mind:
Mad with Defire, fhe ruminates her Sin,
And wishes all her Wishes o'er again:
Now the defpairs, and now refolves to try;
Wou'd not, and wou'd again, she knows not why;
Stops, and returns, makes and retracts the Vow;
Fain wou'd begin, but understands not how.
As when a Pine is hew'd upon the Plains,
And the last mortal Stroke alone remains,
Lab'ring in Pangs of Death, and threatning all,
This way and that she nods, confid'ring where to
So Myrrha's Mind, impell'd on either Side, [fall:
Takes ev'ry Bent, but cannot long abide:
Irrefolute on which the fhou'd relie,
At last unfix'd in all, is only fix'd to die ;
On that fad Thought she refts, refolv'd on Death,
She rifes, and prepares to choak her Breath:
Then while about the Beam her Zone fhe ties,
Dear Cinyras, farewell, fhe foftly cries;
For thee I die, and only wish to be
Not hated, when thou know't I die for thee:
Pardon the Crime, in pity to the Cause:
This faid, about her Neck the Noose fhe draws.
The Nurse, who lay without, her faithful Guard,
Though not the Words, the Murmurs overheard,
AndSighs,and hollowSounds:Surpriz'd with Fright,
She starts, and leaves her Bed, and fprings a Light;
Unlocks the Door, and entring out of Breath,
The Dying faw, and Inftruments of Death;
She fhrieks, fhe cuts the Zone with trembling hafte,
And in her Arms her fainting Charge embrac'd;
Next, (for fhe now had leisure for her Tears)
She weeping ask'd, in these her blooming Years,
What unforeseen Misfortune caus'd her Care,
To loath her Life, and languifh in Despair!
The Maid, with down-caft Eyes, and mute with
For Death unfinish'd, and ill-tim'd Relief, [Grief
Stood fullen to her Suit: The Beldame prefs'd
The more to know, and bar'd her wither'd Breaft,
Adjur'd her by the kindly Food she drew
From those dry Founts, her fecret Ill to fhow.
Sad Myrrha figh'd, and turn'd her Eyes afide;
The Nurfe ftill urg'd, and would not be deny'd:
Nor only promis'd Secrefie; but pray'd
She might have leave to give her offer'd Aid.
Good-will, fhe faid, my want of Strength supplies,
And Diligence fhall give, what Age denies:
If strong Defires thy Mind to Fury move,
With Charms, and Med'cines, I can cure thy Love:
If envious Eyes their hurtful Rays have caft,
More pow'rful Verfe fhall free thee from the Blast :
If Heav'n offended fends thee this Disease,
Offended Heav'n with Pray'rs we can appease.
What then remains, that can thefe Cares procure?
Thy Houfe is flourishing, thy Fortune sure:
Thy careful Mother yet in Health furvives,
And, to thy Comfort, thy kind Father lives.
The Virgin started at her Father's Name,
And figh'd profoundly, confcious of the Shame:
Nor yet the Nurse her impious Love divin'd;
But yet furmis'd, that Love disturb'd her Mind:
Thus thinking, the purfu'd her Point, and laid
And lull'd within her Lap the mourning Maid;
Then foftly footh'd her thus, I guess your Grief:
You love, my Child; your Love shall find Relief.
My long-experienc'd Age fhall be your Guide;
Relie on that, and lay Distrust aside:
No Breath of Air fhall on the Secret blow,
Nor shall (what most you fear) your Father know.
Struck once again, as with a Thunder-clap,
The guilty Virgin bounded from her Lap,
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