Unwinds the years, and lays the former scene,
Where, after death, they live for deaths again.
Loft by the glories of her lover's state,
Deluded Semele bewails her fate;

And runs, and seems to burn, the flames arise,
And fan with idle fury as she flies.

The lovely Cænis, whofe transforming shape
Secur'd her honour from a fecond rape,
Now moans the firft, with ruffled dress appears,
Feels her whole sex return, and bathes with tears.
The jealous Procris wipes a feeming wound,
Whofe trickling crimson dyes the bushy ground;
Knows the fad fhaft, and calls before the go,
To kifs the favourite hand that gave the blow.
Where Ocean feigns a rage, the Sestian Fair
Holds a dim taper from a tower of air;
A noiseless wind affaults the wavering light,
The beauty tumbling mingles with the night.
Where curling fhades for rough Leucate rofe,
With love distracted tuneful Sappho goes ;
Sings to mock clifts a melancholy lay,
And with a lover's leap affrights the fea.
The fad Eryphile retreats to moan,

What wrought her husband's death, and caus'd her own;
Surveys the glittering veil, the bribe of fate,
And tears the fhadow, but she tears too late.
In thin defign, and airy picture, fleet
The tales that stain the royal house of Crete;
To court a lovely Bull, Pafiphaë flies,
The fnowy phantom feeds before her eyes.

Loft Ariadne raves, the thread she bore

Trails on unwinding, as she walks the shore;
And Phædra, defperate, feeks the lonely groves,
To read her guilty letter while fhe roves;
Red fhame confounds the first, the fecond wears
A ftarry crown, the third a halter bears.
Fair Leodamia mourns her nuptial night
Of love defrauded by the thirst of fight;
Yet, for another as delufive cries,
And, dauntless, fees her hero's ghost arise.

Here Thisbe, Canace, and Dido, stand,
All arm'd with fwords, a fair, but angry band:
This fword a lover own'd; a father gave
The next; a ftranger chanc'd the last to leave.

And there ev'n fhe, the Goddess of the Grove, Join'd with the phantom-fairs, affects to rove, As once, for Latmos, fhe forfook the plain, To fteal the kiffes of a flumbering fwain: Around her head a starry fillet twines, And at the front a filver crefcent shines.

These, and a thousand, and a thousand more,
With facred rage recall the pangs they bore,
Strike the deep dart afresh, and afk relief,
Or footh the wound with softening words of grief.
At fuch a tide, unheedful love invades

The dark receffes of the madding shades;
Through long descent he fans the fogs around;
His purple feathers, as he flies, resound.
The nimble beauties, crouding all to gaze,
Perceive the common troubler of their ease;

Though dulling mists and dubious day destroy
The fine appearance of the fluttering boy,
Though all the pomp that glitters at his fide,
The golden belt, the clasp and quiver hide;
And though the torch appear a gleam of white,
That faintly spots, and moves in hazy night,
Yet ftill they know the god, the general foe,
And threatening lift their airy hands below.
From hence they lead him where a myrtle ftood,
The faddeft myrtle in the mournful wood;
Devote to vex the gods, 'twas here before
Hell's awful Empress foft Adonis bore,
When the young hunter fcorn'd her graver air,
And only Venus warm'd his fhadow there.

Fix'd to the trunk the tender boy they bind,
They cord his feet beneath, his hands behind;
He mourns, but vainly mourns his angry fate,
For Beauty, ftill relentless, acts in hate.
Though no offence be done, no judge be nigh,
Love must be guilty by the common cry;
For all are pleas'd, by partial Paffion led,
To fhift their follies on another's head.

Now sharp reproaches ring their shrill alarms,
And all the heroines brandish all their arms;
And
every heroine makes it her decree,
That Cupid fuffer juft the fame as she.
To fix the desperate halter one effay'd,

One feeks to wound him with an empty blade.
Some headlong hang the nodding rocks of air,
They fall in fancy, and he feels despair.

Some tofs the hollow feas around his head
(The feas that want a wave afford a dread).
Or shake the torch, the sparkling fury flies,
And flames that never burn'd afflict his

eyes.
The mournful Myrrha bursts her rended womb,
And drowns his visage in a moist perfume.
While others, feeming mild, advise to wound
With humorous pains by fly derifion found.
That prickling bodkins teach the blood to flow,
From whence the roses first begin to glow;
Or in their flames, to finge the boy prepare,
That all should chufe by wanton Fancy where.
The lovely Venus, with a bleeding breast,
She too fecurely through the circle prest,
Forgot the parent, urg'd his hafty fate,
And spurr'd the female rage beyond debate;
O'er all her scenes of frailty swiftly runs,

Abfolves herself, and makes the crime her fon's,
That clafp'd in chains with Mars fhe chanc'd to lie,
A noted fable of the laughing sky;

That, from her love's intemperate heat, began
Sicanian Eryx, born a favage man;

The loofe Priapus, and the monfter-wight,
In whom the fexes fhamefully unite.

;

Nor words fuffice the Goddess of the Fair,
She fnaps the rofy wreath that binds her hair
Then on the God, who fear'd a fiercer woe,
Her hands, unpitying, dealt the frequent blow:
From all his tender skin a purple dew
The dreadful fcourges of the chaplet drew,

From whence the rose, by Cupid ting'd before,
Now, doubly tinging, flames with luftre more.
Here ends their wrath, the parent seems severe,
The ftroke's unfit for little Love to bear;
To fave their foe the melting Beauties fly,
And, cruel Mother, fpare thy child, they cry.
To Love's account they plac'd their death of late,
And now transfer the fad account to Fate:

The Mother, pleas'd, beheld the ftorm affwage,
Thank'd the calm mourners, and dismiss'd her rage. ·
Thus Fancy, once in dusky fhade express'd,
With empty terrors work'd the time of rest.
Where wretched Love endur'd a world of woe,
For all a Winter's length of night below.
Then foar'd, as fleep diffolv'd, unchain'd away,
And through the Port of Ivory reach'd the day.
As, mindlefs of their rage, he flowly fails
On pinions cumber'd in the misty vales;
(Ah, fool to light!) the Nymphs no more obey,
Nor was this region ever his to sway :

Caft in a deepen'd ring they close the plain,
And feize the god, reluctant all in vain.

THE JUDGEMENT OF PARIS.

WHERE waving pines the brows of Ida shade,
The fwain, young Paris, half fupinely laid,
Saw the loose flocks through shrubs unnumber'd rove,
And, piping, call'd them to the gladded grove.