Each shuns his bed, as each would shun his tomb, And thinks th' infection only lodg'd at home. "Here one, with fainting steps, does slowly creep O'er heaps of dead, and straight augments the heap;

Another, while his strength and tongue prevail'd,
Bewails his friend, and falls himself bewail'd:
This with imploring looks surveys the skies,
The last dear office of his closing eyes,
But finds the Heav'ns implacable, and dies.
"What now, ah! what employ'd my troubled
mind,

But only hopes my subjects' fate to find?
What place soe'er my weeping eyes survey,
There in lamented heaps the vulgar lay;
As acorns scatter when the winds prevail,
Or mellow fruit from shaken branches fall.
"You see that dome which rears its front so high:
'Tis sacred to the monarch of the sky:
How many there, with unregarded tears,
And fruitless vows, sent up successless pray'rs !
There fathers for expiring sons implor'd,
And there the wife bewail'd her gasping lord;
With pious off'rings they appease the skies,
But they, ere yet th' atoning vapours rise,
Before the altars fall, themselves a sacrifice;
They fall, while yet their hands the gums contain,
Their gums surviving, but their off'rers slain.
"The destin'd ox, with holy garlands crown'd,
Prevents the blow, and feels an unexpected
wound:

When I myself invok'd the pow'rs divine,
To drive the fatal pest from me and mine;
When now the priest with hands uplifted stood,
Prepar'd to strike, and shed the sacred blood,
The gods themselves the mortal stroke bestow,
The victim falls, but they impart the blow:
Scarce was the knife with the pale purple stain'd,
And no presages could be then obtain'd,
From putrid entrails, where th' infection reign'd.
"Death stalk'd around with such resistless sway,
The temples of the gods his force obey,
And suppliants feel his stroke, while yet they pray.
'Go now,' said he, 'your deities implore
For fruitless aid, for I defy their pow'r.'
Then with a curst malicious joy survey'd
The very altars, stain'd with trophies of the dead.
"The rest grown mad, and frantic with despair,
Urge their own fate, and so prevent the fear.
Strange madness that, when death pursu'd so fast,
T'anticipate the blow with impious haste.

"No decent honours to their urns are paid, Nor could the graves receive the num'rous dead; For, or they lay unbury'd on the ground, Or unadorn'd a needy fun'ral found: All rev'rence past, the fainting wretches fight For fun'ral piles which were another's right. "Unmourn'd they fall: for, who surviv'd to mourn?

And sires, and moderns unlamented burn:
Parent, and sons sustain an equal fate,
And wand'ring ghosts their kindred shadows meet.
The dead a larger space of ground require,
Nor are the trees sufficient for the fire.

"Despairing under grief's oppressive weight,
And sunk by these tempestuous blasts of fate,
O Jove,' said I, if common fame says true,

If e'er Ægina gave those joys to you,
If e'er you lay enclos'd in her embrace,

Fond of her charms, and eager to possess¿

O father, if you do not yet disclaim
Paternal care, nor yet disown the name;
Grant my petitions, and with speed restore
My subjects num'rous as they were before,
Or make me partner of the fate they bore.'
I spoke, and glorious lightning shone around,
And rattling thunder gave a prosp'rous sound;
'So let it be, and may these omens prove
A pledge,' said I, of your returning love.'

By chance a rev'rend oak was near the place,
Sacred to Jove, and of Dodona's race,
Where frugal ants laid up their winter meat,
Whose little bodies bear a mighty weight:
We saw them march along, and hide their store,
And much admir'd their number, and their pow'r;
Admir'd at first, but after envy'd more.
Full of amazement, thus to Jove I pray'd,

O grant, since thus my subjects are decay'd,
As many subjects to supply the dead.'

I pray'd, and strange convulsions mov'd the oak,
Which murmur'd, tho' by ambient winds unshook:
My trembling hands, and stiff-erected hair,
Exprest all tokens of uncommon fear;
Yet both the earth and sacred oak I kist,
And scarce could hope, yet still I hop'd the best;
For wretches, whatsoe'er the fates divine,
Expound all omens to their own design. [wears
"But now 'twas night, when ev'n distraction
A pleasing look, and dreams beguile our cares.
Lo the same oak appears before my eyes,
Nor alter'd in his shape, nor former size;
As many ants the num'rous branches bear,
The same their labour, and their frugal care;
The branches too alike commotion found,
And shook th'industrious creatures on the ground,
Who, by degrees (what's scarce to be believ'd)
A nobler form, and larger bulk receiv'd,
And on the earth walk'd an unusual pace,
With manly strides, and an erected face;
Their num'rous legs, and former colour lost,
The insects could a human figure boast.

"I wake, and waking find my cares again, And to the unperforming gods complain, And call their promise and pretences vain. Yet in my court I heard the murm❜ring voice Of strangers, and a mixt uncommon noise; But I suspected all was still a dream, Till Telamon to my apartment came : Op'ning the door with an impetuous haste, 'O come,' said he, 'and see your faith and hopes surpast:'

I follow, and, confus'd with wonder, view
Those shapes which my presaging slumbers drew:
I saw, and own'd, and call'd them subjects; they
Confest my pow'r, submissive to my sway.
To Jove, restorer of my race decay'd,
My vows were first with due oblations paid.
I then divide with an impartial hand
My empty city, and my ruin'd land,
To give the new-born youth an equal share,
And call them Myrmidons, from what they

were.

You saw their persons, and they still retain
The thrift of ants, tho' now transform'd to men;
A frugal people, and inur'd to sweat,
Lab'ring to gain, and keeping what they get.
These, equal both in strength and years, shall join
Their willing aid, and follow your design,
With the first southern gale that shall present
To fill your sails, and favour your intent.”

Thus while no other joy we did aspire,
We grew at last one soul, and one desire.
Forth to the woods I went at break of day,
(The constant practice of my youth) for prey:
Nor yet for servant, horse, or dog did call,
I found this single dart to serve for all.
With slaughter tir'd, I sought the cooler shade,
And winds that from the mountains pierc'd the

glade:

'Come, gentle air,' so was I wont to say,
'Come, gentle air, sweet Aura, come away.'
This always was the burden of my song,

Come 'suage my flame, sweet Aura, come along.
Thou always art most welcome to my breast;
I faint; approach, thou dearest, kindest guest!'
These blandishments, and more than these, I said,
(By fate to unsuspected ruin led):

Thou art my joy, for thy dear sake I love
Each desert hill, and solitary grove;
When, faint with labour, I refreshment need,
For cordials on thy fragrant breath I feed.'
At last a wand'ring swain in hearing came,
And cheated with the sound of Aura's name,
He thought I had some assignation made:
And to my Procris' ear the news convey'd.
Great love is soonest with suspicion fir'd:
She swoon'd, and with the tale almost expir'd.
'Ah! wretched heart!' she cry'd, ah! faithless
man!

And then to curse th' imagin'd nymph began:
Yet oft she doubts, oft hopes she is deceiv'd,
And chides herself, that ever she believ'd
Her lord to such injustice could proceed,
Till she herself were witness of the deed.
Next morn I to the woods again repair,
And, weary with the chase, invoke the air;
'Approach, dear Aura, and my bosom cheer:'
At which a mournful sound did strike my ear;
Yet I proceeded, till the thicket by
With rustling noise and motion drew my eye:
I thought some beast of prey was shelter'd there,
And to the covert threw my certain spear;
From whence a tender sight my soul did wound,
Ah me!' it cry'd, and did like Procris sound.
Procris was there, too well the voice I knew,
And to the place with headlong horrour flew;
Where I beheld her gasping on the ground,
In vain attempting from the deadly wound
To draw the dart, her love's dear fatal gift;
My guilty arms had scarce the strength to lift
The beauteous load; my silks and hair I tore,
(If possible) to stanch the pressing gore;
For pity begg'd her keep her flitting breath,
And not to leave me guilty of her death.
While I entreat she fainted fast away,
And these few words had only strength to say;
By all the sacred bonds of plighted love,
By all your rev'rence to the pow'rs above,
By all that made me charming once appear,
By all the truth for which you held me dear,
And last by love, the cause through which I bleed,
Let Aura never to my bed succeed.'
I then perceiv'd the errour of our fate,
And told it her, but found and told too late!
I felt her lower to my bosom fall,
And while her eyes had any sight at all,
On mine she fix'd them; in her pangs still prest
My hand, and sigh'd her soul into my breast;
Yet, being undeceiv'd, resign'd her breath
Methought more cheerfully, and sinil'd in death.”

Now shone the morning star in bright array, To vanquish night, and usher in the day: The wind veers southward, and moist clouds arise, That blot with shades the blue meridian skies. Cephalus feels with joy the kindly gales, His new allies unfurl the swelling sails; Steady their course, they cleave the yielding main, And, with a wish, th' intended harbour gain.

Meanwhile king Minos, on the Attic strand Displays his martial skill, and wastes the land. His army lies encampt upon the plains, Before Alcathoe's walls, where Nisus reigns; On whose grey head a lock of purple hue, The strength, and fortune of his kingdom, grew. Six moons were gone and past, when still from Victoria hover'd o'er the doubtful war. [far So long, to both inclin'd, the impartial maid Between them both her equal wings display'd. High on the walls, by Phoebus vocal made, A turret of the palace rais'd its head; And where the god his tuneful harp resign'd, The sound within the stones still lay enshrin'de Hither the daughter of the purple king Ascended oft, to hear its music ring; Aud, striking with a pebble, would release Th' enchanted notes, in times of happy peace. But now, from thence, the curious maid beheld Rough feats of arms, and combats of the field: And, since the siege was long, had learnt the name Of ev'ry chief, his character, and fame; Their arms, their horse, and quiver she descry'd, Nor could the dress of war the warrior hide. Europa's son she knew above the rest, And more than well became a virgin breast: In vain the crested morion veils his face, She thinks it adds a more peculiar grace: His ample shield, embost with burnish'd gold, Still makes the bearer lovelier to behold: When the tough jav'lin, with a whirl, he sends, His strength and skill the sighing maid commends: Or, when he strains to draw the circling bow, And his fine limbs a manly posture show, Compar'd with Phoebus, he performs so well, Let her be judge, and Minos shall excel.

But when the helm put off, display'd to sight,
And set his features in an open light;
When, vaulting to his seat, his steed he prest,
Caparison'd in gold, and richly drest;
Himself in scarlet sumptuously array'd,
New passions rise, and fire the frantic maid.
"O happy spear!" she cries, "that feels his
touch;"

Nay, ev'n the reins he holds are blest too much.
Oh! were it lawful, she could wing her way
Through the stern hostile troops without dismay;
Or throw her body to the distant ground,
And in the Cretans happy camp be found.

Or where Charybdis pours its rapid tide
Tempestuous. Thou art not to Jove ally'd;
Nor did the king of gods thy mother meet
Beneath a bull's forg'd shape, and bear to Crete.
That fable of thy glorious birth is feign'd;
Some wild outrageous bull thy dam sustain'd.
O father Nisus, now my death behold;
Exult, O city, by my baseness sold:
Minos, obdurate, has aveng'd ye all;

But 'twere more just by those I wrong'd to fall:
For why shouldst thou, who only didst subdue
By my offending, my offence pursue?
Well art thou match'd to one whose am'rous flame
Too fiercely rag'd, for human kind to tame;
One who, within a wooden heifer thrust,
Courted a low'ring bull's mistaken lust;
And, from whose monster-teeming womb, the
Earth

Receiv'd, what much it mourn'd, a bi-form birth.
But what avail my plaints? the whistling wind,
Which bears him far away, leaves them behind.
Well weigh'd Pasiphae, when she preferr'd
A bull to thee, more brutish than the herd.
But ah! time presses, and the labour'd oars
To distance drive the fleet, and lose the less'ning
shores.

Think not, ungrateful man, the liquid way
And threat'ning billows shall enforce my stay.
I'll follow thee in spite: my arms I'll throw
Around thy oars, or grasp thy crooked prow,
And drag through drenching seas." Her eager
tongue
[sprung,

Had hardly clos'd the speech, when forth she
And prov'd the deep. Cupid with added force
Recruits each nerve, and aids her wat'ry course.
Soon she the ship attains, unwelcome guest;
And, as with close embrace its sides she prest,
A hawk from upper air came pouring down,
('Twas Nisus cleft the sky with wings new-grown.)
At Scylla's head his horny bill he aims;
She, fearful of the blow, the ship disclaims,
Quitting her hold: and yet she fell not far,
But wond'ring, finds herself sustain'd in air.
Chang'd to a lark, she mottled pinions shook,
And, from the ravish'd lock, the name of Ciris
took.

THE LABYRINTH.

Now Minos, landed on the Cretan shore, Performs his vows to Jove's proctecting pow'r; A hundred bullocks of the largest breed, With flowrets crown'd, before his altar bleed: While trophies of the vanquish'd, brought from far, Adorn the palace with the spoils of war.

Meanwhile the monster of a human beast,
His family's reproach, and stain, increas'd.
His double kind the rumour swiftly spread,
And evidenc'd the mother's beastly deed.
When Minos, willing to conceal the shame
That sprung from the reports of tattling fame,
Resolves a dark enclosure to provide,
And, far from sight, the two-form'd creature hide.
Great Daedalus of Athens was the man
That made the draught, and form'd the wond'rous
plan;

Where rooms within themselves encircled lie,
With various windings, to deceive the eye.
As soft Mæander's wanton current plays,
When through the Phrygian ficids he loosely
Strafs;

Backward and forward rolls the dimpled tide,
Seeming, at once, two different ways to glide:
While circling streams their former banks survey,
And waters past succeeding waters see:

Now floating to the sea with downward course,
Now pointing upward to its ancient source:
Such was the work, so intricate the place,

That scarce the workman all its turns could trace,
And Dædalus was puzzled how to find
The secret ways of what himself design'd.
These private walls the Minotaur include,
Who twice was glutted with Athenian blood.
But the third tribute more successful prov'd,
Slew the foul monster, and the plague remov'd.
When Theseus, aided by the virgin's art,
Had trac'd the guiding thread through ev'ry part,
He took the gentle maid, that set him free,
And, bound for Dias, cut the briny sea.
There, quickly cloy'd, ungrateful, and unkind,
Left his fair consort in the isle behind;
Whom Bacchus saw, and straining in his arms
Her rifled bloom, and violated charms,
Resolves, for this, the dear engaging dame
Should shine for ever in the rolls of fame;
And bids her crown among the stars be plac'd,
With an eternal constellation grac'd.

The golden circlet mounts; and, as it flies,
Its diamonds twinkle in the distant skies;
There, in their pristine form, the gemmy rays
Between Alcides and the Dragon blaze.

THE STORY OF DEDALUS AND ICARUS.

IN tedious exile now too long detain'd,
Dædalus languish'd for his native land:
The sea foreclos'd his flight; yet thus he said;
"Though earth and water in subjection laid,
O cruel Minos, thy dominion be,
We'll go through air; for sure the air is free."
Then to new arts his cunning thought applies,
And to improve the work of nature tries.
A row of quills in gradual order plac'd,
Rise by degrees in length from first to last;
As on a cliff th' ascending thicket grows,
Or different reeds the rural pipe compose.
Along the middle runs a twine of flax,
The bottom stems are join'd by pliant way.
Thus, well compact, a hollow bending brings
The fine composure into real wings.

His boy, young Icarus, that near him stood,
Unthinking of his fate, with smiles pursu'd
The floating feathers, which the moving air
Bore loosely from the ground, and wafted here
and there.

Or with the wax impertinently play'd,

And with his childish tricks the great design

delay'd.

The final master-stroke at last impos'd, And now the neat machine completely clos'd; Fitting his pinions on, a flight he tries, And hung self-balanc'd in the beaten skies. Then thus instructs his child; "My boy, take care To wing your course along the middle air; If low, the surges wet your flagging plumes; If high, the Sun the melting wax consumes: Steer between both: nor to the northern skies, Nor south Orion, turn your giddy eyes: But follow me: let me before you lay Rules for the flight, aud mark the pathless way." Then teaching, with a fond concern, his son, He took the untry'd wings, and fix'd them on;