For as the flames augment, and as they stay
At their full height, then languish to decay,
They rife, and fink by fits; at last they foar
In one bright blaze, and then descend no more;
Juft fo his inward heats, at height, impair,
Till the last burning breath shoots out the soul in air.
Now lofty Calydon in ruins lies;
All ages, all degrees, unfluice their eyes;
And heaven and earth refound with murmurs, groans, and cries.
Matrons and maidens beat their breafts, and tear
Their habits, and root up their scatter'd hair.
The wretched father, father now no more,
With forrow funk, lies proftrate on the floor,
Deforms his hoary locks with dust obscene,
And curfes age, and loaths a life prolong'd with pain.
By steel her ftubborn foul his mother freed,
And punish'd on herself her impious deed.
Had I an hundred tongues, a wit fo large
As could their hundred offices difcharge;
Had Phoebus all his Helicon bestow'd,
In all the streams infpiring all the God;
Thofe tongues, that wit, thofe ftreams, that God, in vain
Would offer to describe his fifters' pain:
They beat their breafts with many a bruifing blow,
Till they turn livid, and corrupt the snow.
The corpfe they cherish, while the corpfe remains,
And exercise and rub with fruitless pains;
And when to funeral flames 'tis borne away,
They kifs the bed on which the body lay:
And when those funeral flames no longer burn (The duft compos'd within a pious urn),
Ev'n in that urn their brother they confefs,
And hug it in their arms, and to their bofoms prefs.
His tomb is rais'd; then, stretch'd along the ground,
Thofe living monuments his tomb surround:
Ev'n to his name, infcrib'd, their tears they pay,
Till tears and kiffes wear his name away.
But Cynthia now had all her fury spent,
Not with lefs ruin, than a race, content:
Excepting Gorgé, perifh'd all the feed,
And her whom heaven for Hercules decreed.
Satiate at laft, no longer fhe purfu'd
The weeping fifters; but, with wings endu'd,
And horny beaks, and fent to flit in air;
Who yearly round the tomb in feather'd flocks repair.
OUT OF THE EIGHTH BOOK OF
The author, purfuing the deeds of Thefeus, relates how with his friend Pirithous, were invited by Achelous, the River-God, to ftay with him, till his waters were abated. Achelous entertains them with a relation of his own love to Perimele, who was changed into an island by Neptune, at his request. Pirithous, being an atheist, derides the legend, and denies the power of the Gods to work that miracle. Lelex, another companion of Thefeus, to confirm the ftory of Achelous, relates another metamorphofis of Baucis and Philemon into trees: of which he was partly an eye-witness.
HUS Achelous ends: his audience hear
With admiration, and admiring fear
powers of heaven; except Ixion's fon,
Who laugh'd at all the Gods, believ'd in none;
He fhook his impious head, and thus replies,
Thefe legends are no more than pious lies:
You attribute too much to heavenly fway,
To think they give us forms, and take away.
The reft, of better minds, their fenfe declar'd Against this doctrine, and with horror heard.
Then Lelex rofe, an old experienc'd man,
And thus with fober gravity began:
Heaven's power is infinite: earth, air, and fea,
The manufacture mafs, the making power obey:
By proof to clear your doubt; in Phrygian ground
Two neighbouring trees, with walls encompass'd round,
Stand on a moderate rife, with wonder shown,
One a hard oak, a fofter linden one:
I faw the place and them, by Pittheus fent
To Phrygian realms, my grandfire's government.
Not far from thence is feen a lake, the haunt
Of coots, and of the fishing cormorant:
Here Jove with Hermes came; but in disguise
Of mortal men conceal'd their Deities:
One laid afide his thunder, one his rod;
And many toilfome fteps together trod;
For harbour at a thousand doors they knock'd,
Not one of all the thousand but was lock'd.
At laft an hofpitable house they found,
A homely fhed; the roof, not far from ground,
There Baucis and Philemon liv'd, and there
Had liv'd long married, and a happy pair:
Now old in love; though little was their store,
Inur'd to want, their poverty they bore,
Nor aim'd at wealth, profeffing to be poor.
For mafter or for fervant here to call,
Was all alike, where only two were all.
Command was none, where equal love was paid,
Or rather both commanded, both obey'd.
From lofty roofs the Gods repuls'd before,
Now ftooping, enter'd through the little door;
The man (their hearty welcome first exprefs'd)
A common fettle drew for either guest,
Inviting each his weary limbs to reft.
But ere they fat, officious Baucis lays
Two cushions ftuff'd with ftraw, the feat to raise;
Coarfe, but the best she had; then takes the load
Of ashes from the hearth, and spreads abroad
The living coals, and left they should expire,
With leaves and barks fhe feeds her infant-fire:
It fmokes, and then with trembling breath fhe blows,
Till in a chearful blaze the flames arofe.
With brush-wood and with chips fhe ftrengthens these,
And adds at laft the boughs of rotten trees.
The fire thus form'd, fhe fets the kettle on,
(Like burnish'd gold the little feether shone)
Next took the coleworts which her husband got
From his own ground (a small well-water'd spot ;)
She stripp'd the stalks of all their leaves; the best
She cull'd, and then with handy care she dress'd.
High o'er the hearth a chine of bacon hung;
Good old Philemon feiz'd it with a prong,
And from the footy rafter drew it down,
Then cut a flice, but fcarce enough for one:
Yet a large portion of a little store,
Which for their fakes alone he wish'd were more.
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