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 fun'ral 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,

279

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 ev'ry step she makes.

The nearer to her crime, the more within She feels remorse, and horror of her sin; Repents too late her criminal desire,

And wishes that unknown she could retire. Her ling'ring thus, the nurse (who fear'd delay

The fatal secret might at length betray) 290 Pull'd forward, to complete the work begun,

And said to Cinyras: "Receive thy own." Thus saying, she deliver'd kind to kind, Accurst, 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;
And sought with flatt'ring words vain fan-

cies to remove.

Perhaps he said, “My daughter, cease thy fears,"

300

(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 Cinyras desir'd to see her face,
Whose body he had held in close embrace,
And brought a taper; the revealer, light, 310

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 favor'd first the sin, secur'd the flight. Long wand'ring thro' the spacious fields, she bent

Her voyage to th' Arabian continent; Then pass'd the region which Panchas join'd,

And, flying, left the palmy plains behind. Nine times the moon had mew'd her horns; at length,

320

With travel weary, unsupplied with strength,

And with the burden 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 pow'rs, if any so propitious are
T'accept my penitence, and hear my pray❜r,
Your judgments, I confess, are justly sent;
Great sins deserve as great a punishment:
Yet since my life the living will profane, 330
And since my death the happy dead will
stain,

A middle state your mercy may bestow, Betwixt the realms above and those below:

Some other form to wretched Myrrha give,
Nor let her wholly die, nor wholly live."
The pray'rs of penitents are never vain:
At least, she did her last request obtain;
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,

340

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; when, weary with de

lay,

She sunk her head within, and met it half the way.

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 lab'ring woman, would have pray'd,

360 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 pow'rful spells that babes to birth disclose.

369

The bark divides, the living load to free,
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

The ground with herbs; with roses rais'd his head.

The lovely babe was born with ev'ry 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 diff'rence might betray,

379

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 inclos'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.

THE FIRST BOOK OF HOMER'S ILIAS

THE ARGUMENT

Chryses, priest of Apollo, brings presents to the Grecian princes, to ransom his daughter Chryseis, who was prisoner in the fleet. Agamemnon, the general, whose captive and mistress the young lady was, refuses to deliver her, threatens the venerable old man, and dismisses him with contumely. The priest craves vengeance of his god; who sends a plague among the Greeks: which occasions Achilles, their great champion, to summon a council of the chief officers: he encourages Calchas, the high priest and prophet, to tell the reason why the gods were so much incens'd against them. Calchas is fearful of provoking Agamemnon, till Achilles engages to protect him; then, embolden'd by the hero, he accuses the general as the cause of all, by detaining the fair captive and refusing the presents offer'd for her ransom. By this proceeding, Agamemnon is oblig'd, against his will, to restore Chryseis, with gifts, that he might appease the wrath of Phoebus; but at the same time, to revenge himself on Achilles, sends to seize his slave Briseis. Achilles, thus affronted, complains to his mother Thetis; and begs her to revenge his injury, not only on the general, but on all the army, by giving victory to the Trojans, till the ungrateful king became sensible of his injustice. At the same time, he retires from the camp into his ships, and withdraws his aid from his countrymen. Thetis prefers her son's petition to Jupiter, who grants her suit. Juno suspects her errand, and quarrels with her husband for his grant; till Vulcan reconciles his parents with a bowl of nectar, and sends them peaceably to bed.

THE wrath of Peleus' son, O Muse, resound; Whose dire effects the Grecian army found, And many a hero, king, and hardy knight, Were sent, in early youth, to shades of night;

Their limbs a prey to dogs and vultures made:

Jove's and Latona's son his wrath express'd,
In vengeance of his violated priest,
Against the King of Men; who, swoln with
pride,

Refus'd his presents, and his pray'rs denied.
For this the god a swift contagion spread
Amid the camp, where heaps on heaps lay
dead.

For venerable Chryses came to buy, With gold and gifts of price, his daughter's liberty.

Suppliant before the Grecian chiefs he stood; Awful, and arm'd with ensigns of his god: 20 Bare was his hoary head; one holy hand Held forth his laurel crown, and one his scepter of command.

His suit was common; but, above the rest, To both the brother princes thus address'd: "Ye sons of Atreus, and ye Grecian pow'rs,

So may the gods who dwell in heav'nly bow'rs

Succeed your siege, accord the vows you make,

And give you Troy's imperial town to take; So, by their happy conduct, may you come With conquest back to your sweet native

inclose;

Then from his seat the goddess-born arose, And thus undaunted spoke: "What now remains,

But that once more we tempt the wat❜ry plains,

And, wand'ring homeward, seek our safety hence,

In flight at least, if we can find defense? Such woes at once encompass us about, The plague within the camp, the sword without.

Consult, O king, the prophets of th' event: And whence these ills, and what the god's intent,

Let them by dreams explore; for dreams from Jove are sent.

90

Or touch thy person with unhallow'd hands;

Ev'n not the King of Men, that all commands."

At this, resuming heart, the prophet said: "Nor hecatombs unslain, nor vows unpaid, On Greeks, accurst, this dire contagion

bring,

Or call for vengeance from the bowyer king; But he the tyrant, whom none dares resist, Affronts the godhead in his injur'd priest: 140 He keeps the damsel captive in his chain, And presents are refus'd, and pray'rs preferr'd in vain.

For this th' avenging pow'r employs his darts,

And empties all his quiver in our hearts;
Thus will persist, relentless in his ire,
Till the fair slave be render'd to her sire,
And ransom-free restor❜d to his abode,
With sacrifice to reconcile the god:
Then he, perhaps, aton'd by pray'r, may

Mine is the maid, and brought in happy hour,

With every household grace adorn'd, to bless my nuptial bow'r.

Yet shall she be restor'd, since public good

For private int'rest ought not be with-
stood,

To save th' effusion of my people's blood.
But right requires, if I resign my own,
I should not suffer for your sakes alone;
Alone excluded from the prize I gain'd,
And by your common suffrage have ob-
tain'd.

The slave without a ransom shall be sent: 180
It rests for you to make th' equivalent."

To this the fierce Thessalian prince replied:

"O first in pow'r, but passing all in pride, Griping, and still tenacious of thy hold, Wouldst thou the Grecian chiefs, tho' largely soul'd,

Should give the prizes they had gain'd be

fore,

The sack of Troy, which he by promise

owes,

Then shall the conqu'ring Greeks thy loss restore,

And with large int'rest make th' advantage

more.

To this Atrides answer'd: "Tho' thy boast

Assumes the foremost name of all our host,
Pretend not, mighty man, that what is mine,
Controll❜d by thee, I tamely should resign.
Shall I release the prize I gain'd by right, 200
In taken towns, and many a bloody fight,
While thou detain'st Briseis in thy bands,
By priestly glossing on the god's com-
mands?

Resolve on this, (a short alternative,)
Quit mine, or, in exchange, another give;
Else I, assure thy soul, by sov'reign right
Will seize thy captive in thy own despite;
Or from stout Ajax, or Ulysses, bear
What other prize my fancy shall prefer.
Then softly murmur, or aloud complain; 2:0
Rage as you please, you shall resist in vain.
But more of this, in proper time and place;
To things of greater moment let us pass.
A ship to sail the sacred seas prepare,
Proud in her trim, and put on board the
fair,

With sacrifice and gifts, and all the pomp of pray❜r.

The crew well chosen, the command shall be

In Ajax; or, if other I decree,

In Creta's king, or Ithacus, or, if I please, in thee:

Most fit thyself to see perform'd th' in