Page images

Some held him kin to that abhorred race,

Which beav'n's high tower's with mad emprize


And fome bis cruel lynage did ytrace.
From fell Erynnis join'd in Pluto's dire embrace.


But he, perdy, far other tale did feign, And claim'd alliaunce with the fifters nine; And deem'd himself (what deems not pride fo vain?) The peerless paragon of wit divine, Vaunting that ev'ry foe should rue its tine. Right doughty wight! yet, footh, withouten fmart, All powerless fell the lofel's fhafts malign :: 'Tis vertue's arm to wield wit's heav'nly dart, Point its keen barb with force, and fend it to the beart,


One only impe he had, Paftora hight,
Whofe fweet amenaunce pleas'd each fhepherd's eye:
Yet pleas'd fhe not bafe Lycon's evil fpright,
Tho blame in her not malice moten Spy,
Clear, without fpot, as fummer's cloudless sky.
Hence poets feign'd, Lycean Pan array'd
In Lycon's form, enflam'd with paffion high,
Deceiv'd her mother in the covert glade;

And from the fol'n embrace yfprong the beav'nly


V. Thus


Thus fabling they mean while the damfel fair A fhepherd youth remark'd, as o'er the plain She deffly pac'd elong fo debonair:

Seem'd fhe as one of Dian's chofen train.
Full many a fond excufe be knew to feign,
In sweet converse to while with her the day,
'Till love unwares bis beedlefs beart did gain.
Nor dempt be, fimple wight, no mortal may·
The blinded God once barbour'd, when he lift, forefay.

Now much be meditates if yet to speak,
And now refolves his paffion to conceal :
But fure, quoth be, my feely heart will break
If aye I fmother what I aye muft feel.
At length by hope embolden'd to reveal,
The lab'ring fecret dropped from his tong.

Whiles frequent fingults check'd his faltring tale,
In modeft wife her bead Paftora hong:
For never maid more chafte infpired Shepherd's fong.


What needs me to recount in long detail

The tender parley which thefe lemans held : How oft he vow'd his love her ne'er should fail ; How oft the Stream from forth ber eyne outwell'd,

Doubting if conftancy yet ever dwell'd
In beart of youthful wight: fuffice to know,
·Each rifing doubt be in her bofome quell'd.
U 2

[ocr errors]


So parted they, more blithsome both, I trow: For rankling love conceal'd, me feems, is deadly woe


Eftfoons to Lycon fwift the youth did fare, (Lagg'd ever youth when Cupid urg'd his way?) And ftraight his gentle purpofe did declare, And footb the mount'naunce of his herds difplay. Ne Lycon meant bis fuiten to forefay: "Be thine Paftora (quoth the mafker fly) *And twice two thousand sheep her dow'r fball pay,

[ocr errors]

Beat then the lover's heart with joyaunce high; Ne dempt that aught his blifs could now betray, Ne guess'd that foul deceit in Lycon's bosome lay. IX.

So forth be yode to feek his rev'rend fire; (The good Euphemes fhepherds him did call) How fweet Paftora did his bofome fire,

Her worth, her promis'd flocks, he tolden all. Ab! nere, my fon, let Lycon thee enthrall, (Reply'd the fage, in wife experience old)

"Smooth is his tong, but full of guile withal, "In promife faithless, and in vaunting bold: "Ne ever lamb of his will bleat within thy fold." X.

With words prophetick thus Euphemes fpake:

And fact confirm'd what wisdom thus foretold. Full many a mean devife did Lycon make,

The hoped day of spoufal to with-hold,



Framing new trains when nought mote Serve bis old.

Nath'lefs he vow'd, Cyllene, cloud-topt bill, Should fooner down the lowly delve be roll'd, Than he his plighted promise nould fulfill : But when, perdy, or where, the caitive fayen nill.


Whiles thus the tedious funs had journey'd round Ne ought mote now the lovers hearts divide, Ne truft was there, ne truth in Lycon found; The maid with matron Juno for her guide, The youth by Concord led, in fecret by'd To Hymen's facred fane: The boneft deed [ty'd. Each god approv'd, and close the bands were Certes, till happier moments should succeed, No prying eyne they ween'd their emprize mote areed.


But preying eyne of Lycon 'twas in vain
(Right practick in disguise) to hope beware.
He trac'd their covert Steps to Hymen's fane,
And joy'd to find them in his long-laid fnare.
Algates, in femblaunt ire, be 'gan to fwear,
And roaren loud as in difpleafaunce high;
Then out be burlen forth his daughter fair,
Forelore, the boufeless child of mifery,
Expos'd to killing cold, and pinching penury.

U 3


Ah! whether now shall fad Paftora wend,
To want abandon'd and by wrongs oppreft?
Who fhall the wretched out-caft's teen befriend?
Live's mercy then, if not in parent's breast?
Yes, MERCY lives, the gentle goddess bleft,

At Jove's right hand, to Jove for ever dear. Aye at his feet fhe pleads the cause diftreft,

To forrow's plaints fhe turns bis equal ear, And wafts to heav'n's ftar-throne fair vertue's filent



Twas SH E that bade Euphemes quell each


That well mote rife to check his gen'rous aid. Tho high the torts which Lycon him had wrought, Tho few the flocks his bumble paftures fed; When as be learn'd Paftora's hapless fted, His breaft bumane with wonted pity flows. He op'd his gates, the naked exile led

Beneath bis roof: a decent drapet throws O'er ber cold limbs, and fooths her undeserved woes.


Now loud-tongu'd Rumour bruited round the tale: Th' aftonied fwains uneath could credence give, That in Arcadia's unambitious vale

A faytor falfe as Lycon e'er did live.


« PreviousContinue »