Like shooting meteors, gliding from above,
See the proud confort of the thundering Jove,
War's glorious goddess, and the queen of love;
Arm'd in their naked charms, the Phrygian boy
Regards thofe charms with mingled fear and joy.
Here Juno ftands with an imperial mein,
At once confeft a goddess and a queen.
Her cheeks a scornful indignation warms,
Blots out her fmiles, as confcious of her charms.
But Venus fhines in milder beauties there,
And every grace adorns the blooming fair.
While, conscious of her charms, fhe feems to rife,
Claims, and already grafps in hope the prize;
Beauteous, as when immortal Phidias ftrove
From Parian rocks to carve the Queen of Love:
Each grace obey'd the fummons of his art,
And a new beauty fprung from every part.
In all the terrors of her beauty bright,
Fair Pallas awes and charms the Trojan's fight,
And gives fucceffive reverence and delight.
Nor thrones, nor victories, his foul can move;
Crowns, arms, and triumphs, what are you to love?
Too foon refign'd to Venus, they behold
The glittering ball of vegetable gold.
While Jove's proud confort thrown from her defires,
Inflam'd with rage maliciously retires;
Already kindles her immortal hate,
Already labours with the Trojan fate.
While a new transport flufh'd the blooming boy,
Helen he feems already to enjoy,
And feeds the flame that muft confume his Troy.
D 2
Another scene our wondering fight recalls;
The fair adulterefs leaves her native walls:
Her cheeks are ftain'd with mingled shame and joy;
Lull'd on the bosom of the Phrygian boy.
To the loud deeps he bears his charming spouse,
Freed from her lord, and from her former vows.
On their foft wings the whispering zephyrs play,
The breezes skim along the dimpled fea:
The wanton Loves direct the gentle gales,
Sport in the shrowds, and flutter in the fails.
While her twin-brothers* with a gracious ray
Point out her course along the watery way.
find
Th' exalted strokes fo delicately shine,
All fo confpire to push the bold defign;
That in each sprightly feature we may
The great
ideas of the master's mind,
As the ftrong colours faithfully unite,
Mellow to fhade, and ripen into light.
Let others form with care the ruddy mass,
And torture into life the running brass,
With potent art the breathing statue mould,
Shape and infpire the animated gold;
Let others fenfe to Parian marbles give,
Bid the rocks leap to form, and learn to live;
Still be it thine, O Thornhill, to unite
The pleafing difcord of the fhade and light;
To vanquish nature in the generous ftrife,
And touch the glowing features into life.
But, Thornhill, would thy noble foul impart
One lasting instance of thy godlike art
To future times; and in thy fame engage
The praise of this and every diftant age;
To stretch that art as far as it can go,
Draw the triumphant chief, and vanquish'd foe:
In his own dome, amid the spacious walls,
Draw the deep squadrons of the routed Gauls;
Their ravish'd banners, and their arms refign'd,
While the brave hero thunders from behind;
Pours on their front, or hangs upon their rear ;
Fights, leads, commands, and animates the war.
Let his ftrong courfer champ his golden chain,
And proudly paw th' imaginary plain.
To Aghrim's bloody wreaths let Creffi yield,
With the fair laurels of Ramillia's field.
Next, on the fea the daring hero show, To chear his friends, and terrify the foe. Lo! the great chief to famish'd thousands bears, The food of armies, and fupport of wars. The Britons rush'd with native virtue fir'd, And quell'd the foe, or gloriously expir'd; Plunging through flames and floods, their valour broke O'er the rang'd cannon, and a night of smoke, Through the wedg'd legions urg'd their noble toil, To spend their thunder on the towers of Lisle; While by his deeds their courage he infpires, And wakes in every breaft the fleeping fires. Thus the whole series of his labours join, Stretch'd from the Belgick ocean to the Boyne.
D 3
read
Then glorious in retreat the chief may
Th' immortal actions of the noble dead;
And in recording colours, with delight,
Review his conquefts, and enjoy the fight;
See his own deeds on each ennobled plain;
While fancy acts his triumphs o'er again.
Thus on the Tyrian walls Æneas read,
How ftern Achilles rag'd, and Hector bled;
But half unfheath'd his fword, and grip'd his shield,
When he amidst the scene himself beheld,
Thundering on Simois' banks, or battling in the field.
Part of the SECOND BOOK of STATIUS.
N
WOW Jove's command fulfill'd, the fon of May Quits the black shades, and flowly mounts to day, For lazy clouds in gloomy barriers rise, Obftruct the God, and intercept the skies ; No Zephyrs here their airy pinions move, To fpeed his progrefs to the realms above. Scarce can he steer his dark laborious flight, Loft and encumber'd in the damps of night: There roaring tides of fire his courfe withflood, Here Styx in nine wide circles roll'd his flood. Behind old Laius trod th' infernal ground, Trembling with age, and tardy from his wound:
(For all his force his furious fon apply'd,
And plung'd the guilty faulchion in his fide.)
Propt and supported by the healing rod,
The shade pursued the footsteps of the God.
The groves that never bloom; the Stygian coafts,
The house of woe; the manfions of the ghofts.
Earth too admires to fee the ground give way,
And gild hell's horrors with the gleams of day.
But not with life repining Envy fled,
She still reigns there, and lives among the dead.
One from this crowd exclaim'd (whose lawless will
Inur'd to crimes, and exercis'd in ill,
Taught his prepofterous joys from pains to flow,
And never triumph'd, but in fcenes of woe)
Go to thy province in the realms above,
Call'd by the Furies or the will of Jove:
Or drawn by magic force or myftic spell,
Rife, and purge off the footy gloom of hell.
Go, fee the fun, and whiten in his beams,
Or haunt the flowery fields and limpid ftreams,
With woes redoubled to return again,
When thy past pleasures fhall enhance thy pain.
Now by the Stygian dog they bent their way;
Stretch'd in his den the dreadful monster lay;
But lay not long, for, ftartling at the found,
Head above head he rises from the ground.
From their clofe folds his ftarting ferpents break,
And curl in horrid circles round his neck.
This faw the God, and, ftretching forth his hand,
Lull'd the grim monfter with his potent wand;
D 4
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