And nothing of the heifer now is seen,
Befide the native whiteness of her skin.
Erected on her feet fhe walks again,
And two the duty of the four sustain.
She tries her tongue, her filence foftly breaks,
And fears her former lowings when she speaks :
A Goddess now thro all th' Egyptian state;
And ferv'd by priests, who in white linen wait.
Her fon was Epaphus, at length believ'd
The son of Jove, and as a God receiv'd.
With facrifice ador'd, and public pray'rs,
He common temples with his mother shares.
Equal in years, and rival in renown
With Epaphus, the youthful Phaeton,
Like honor claims, and boafts his fire the fun.
His haughty looks, and his affuming air,
The fon of Ifis could no longer bear :
Thou tak'ft thy mother's word too far, said he,
And haft ufurp'd thy boafted pedigree.
Go, bafe pretender, to a borrow'd name,
Thus tax'd, he blush'd with anger, and with shame;
But shame reprefs'd his rage: the daunted youth
Soon feeks his mother, and enquires the truth:
Mother, faid he, this infamy was thrown
By Epaphus on you, and me your son,
B b
He spoke in public, told it to my face;
Nor durft I vindicate the dire difgrace:
Ev'n I the bold, the fenfible of wrong,
Restrain'd by shame, was forc'd to hold my tongue.
To hear an open flander, is a curse :
But not to find an answer, is a worse.
If I am heav'n-begot, affert your fon
By fome fure fign; and make my father known,
To right my honor, and redeem your own.
He said, and faying caft his arms about
Her neck, and begg'd her to resolve the doubt.
'Tis hard to judge if Clymené were mov'd
More by his pray'r, 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 ftretch'd her arms to heav'n, and fix'd her
On that fair planet that adorns the skies
Now by those beams, faid fhe, whofe holy fires
Confume my breaft, and kindle my defires;
By him who fees us both, and chears our fight,
By him, the public minifter of light,
I fwear that Sun begot thee: if I lye,
Let him his chearful influence deny :
Let him no more this perjur'd creature fee,
And shine on all the world but only me.
If ftill you doubt your mother's innocence,
His eastern manfion 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 foon prepar'd.
He longs the world beneath him to furvey;
To guide the chariot, and to give the day :
From Meroe's burning fands he bends his course,
Nor lefs in India feels his father's force;
His travel urging, till he came in fight,
And faw the palace by the purple light.
Out of the Eighth Book of
CONNECTION to the former STORY.
Ovid, having told how Thefeus had freed Athens from the tribute of children, which was impofed on them by Minos king of Creta, by killing the Minotaur, here makes a digreffion to the ftory of Meleager and Atalanta, which is one of the most inartificial connections in all the Metamorphofes : for he only fays, that Thefeus obtained fuch bonor from that combat, that all Greece had recourse to bim in their neceffities; and, amongst others, Calydon, though the hero of that country, prince Meleager, was then living.
ROM him, the Caledonians fought relief;
Tho 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 blefs'd,
gifts to heav'n his gratitude express'd :
Cull'd fheafs, to Ceres; to Lyæus, wine;
To Pan, and Pales, offer'd fheep and kine;
And fat of olives, to Minerva's fhrine.
Beginning from the rural Gods, his hand
Was lib'ral to the powers of high command:
Each Deity in ev'ry kind was blefs'd,
Till at Diana's fane th' invidious honor ceas'd.
Wrath touches ev'n the Gods; the queen of night
Fir'd with difdain, and jealous of her right,
Unhonor'd tho 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 the Ægyptian paftures feed,
And none fo large Sicilian meadows breed:
His eye-balls glare with fire, fuffus'd with blood;
His neck shoots up a thick fet thorny wood;
His bristled back a trench impal'd appears,
And stands erected, like a field of fpears.
Froth fills his chaps, he fends a grunting found,
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 fcorching blast invades
The tender corn, and shrivels up the blades :
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