NOR him alone produc’d the fruitful Queen; | |
| But Cinyras, who like his Sire had been | |
| A happy Prince, had he not been a Sire. | |
| Daughters and Fathers from my Song retire; | |
| I sing of Horrour; and could I prevail, | 5 |
| You shou’d not hear, or not believe my Tale. | |
| Yet if the Pleasure of my Song be such, | |
| That you will hear, and credit me too much, | |
| Attentive listen to the last Event, | |
| And with the Sin believe the Punishment: | 10 |
| Since Nature cou’d behold so dire a Crime, | |
| I gratulate at least my Native Clime, | |
| That such a Land, which such a Monster bore, | |
| So far is distant from our Thracian Shore. | |
| Let Araby extol her happy Coast, | 15 |
| Her Cinamon and sweet Amomum boast, | |
| Her fragrant Flow’rs, her Trees with precious Tears, | |
| Her second Harvests, and her double Years; | |
| How can the Land be call’d so bless’d that Myrrha bears? | |
| Not all her od’rous Tears can cleanse her Crime, | 20 |
| Her Plant alone deforms the happy Clime. | |
| Cupid denies to have inflam’d thy Heart, | |
| Disowns thy Love, and vindicates his Dart | |
| Some Fury gave thee those infernal Pains, | |
| And shot her venom’d Vipers in thy Veins | 25 |
| To hate thy Sire, had merited a Curse; | |
| But such an impious Love deserv’d a worse. | |
| The Neighb’ring Monarchs, by thy Beauty led, | |
| Contend in Crowds, ambitious of thy Bed: | |
| The World is at thy Choice, except but one, | 30 |
| Except but him thou canst not chuse alone. | |
| She knew it too, the miserable Maid, | |
| E’er impious Love her better Thoughts betray’d, | |
| And thus within her secret Soul she said: | |
| Ah Myrrha! whither wou’d thy Wishes tend? | 35 |
| Ye Gods, ye sacred Laws, my Soul defend | |
| From such a Crime, as all Mankind detest, | |
| And never lodg’d before in Humane Breast! | |
| But is it Sin? Or makes my Mind alone | |
| Th’ imagin’d Sin? For Nature makes it none. | 40 |
| What Tyrant then these envious Laws began, | |
| Made not for any other Beast, but Man! | |
| The Father-Bull his Daughter may bestride, | |
| The Horse may make his Mother-Mare a Bride; | |
| What Piety forbids the lusty Ram, | 45 |
| Or more salacious Goat, to rut their Dam? | |
| The Hen is free to wed her Chick she bore, | |
| And make a Husband, whom she hatch’d before. | |
| All Creatures else are of a happier Kind, | |
| Whom nor ill-natur’d Laws from Pleasure bind, | 50 |
| Nor Thoughts of Sin disturb their Peace of Mind. | |
| But Man, a Slave of his own making lives: | |
| The Fool denies himself what Nature gives: | |
| Too busie Senates, with an over-care | |
| To make us better than our Kind can bear, | 55 |
| Have dash’d a Spice of Envy in the Laws, | |
| And straining up too high, have spoil’d the Cause. | |
| Yet some wise Nations break their cruel Chains, | |
| And own no Laws, but those which Love ordains: | |
| Where happy Daughters with their Sires are join’d, | 60 |
| And Piety is doubly paid in Kind. | |
| O that I had been born in such a Clime, | |
| Not here, where ’tis the Country makes the Crime! | |
| But whither wou’d my impious Fancy stray? | |
| Hence Hopes, and ye forbidden Thoughts away! | 65 |
| His Worth deserves to kindle my Desires, | |
| But with the Love, that Daughters bear to Sires. | |
| Then had not Cinyras my Father been, | |
| What hinder’d Myrrha’s Hopes to be his Queen? | |
| But the Perverseness of my Fate is such, | 70 |
| That he’s not mine, because he’s mine too much: | |
| Our Kindred-Blood debars a better Tie; | |
| He might be nearer, were he not so nigh. | |
| Eyes and their Objects never must unite, | |
| Some Distance is requir’d to help the Sight: | 75 |
| Fain wou’d I travel to some Foreign Shore, | |
| Never to see my Native Country more, | |
| So might I to my self my self restore; | |
| So might my Mind these impious Thoughts remove, | |
| And ceasing to behold, might cease to love. | 80 |
| But stay I must, to feed my famish’d Sight, | |
| To talk, to kiss; and more, if more I might: | |
| More, impious Maid! What more canst thou design, | |
| To make a monstrous Mixture in thy Line, | |
| And break all Statutes Humane and Divine? | 85 |
| Canst thou be call’d (to save thy wretched Life) | |
| Thy Mother’s Rival, and thy Father’s Wife? | |
| Confound so many sacred Names in one, | |
| Thy Brother’s Mother, Sister to thy Son! | |
| And fear’st thou not to see th’ Infernal Bands, | 90 |
| Their Heads with Snakes, with Torches arm’d their Hands, | |
| Full at thy Face th’ avenging Brands to bear, | |
| And shake the Serpents from their hissing Hair? | |
| But thou in time th’ increasing Ill controul, | |
| Nor first debauch the Body by the Soul; | 95 |
| Secure the sacred Quiet of thy Mind, | |
| And keep the Sanctions Nature has design’d. | |
| Suppose I shou’d attempt, th’ Attempt were vain; | |
| No Thoughts like mine his sinless Soul profane: | |
| Observant of the Right; and O, that he | 100 |
| Cou’d cure my Madness, or be mad like me! | |
| Thus she: But Cinyras, who daily sees | |
| A Crowd of Noble Suitors at his Knees, | |
| Among so many, knew not whom to chuse, | |
| Irresolute to grant, or to refuse. | 105 |
| But having told their Names, enquir’d of her, | |
| Who pleas’d her best, and whom she would prefer? | |
| The blushing Maid stood silent with Surprize, | |
| And on her Father fix’d her ardent Eyes, | |
| And looking sigh’d; and as she sigh’d, began | 110 |
| Round Tears to shed, that scalded as they ran. | |
| The tender Sire, who saw her blush, and cry, | |
| Ascrib’d it all to Maiden-modesty; | |
| And dry’d the falling Drops, and yet more kind, | |
| He strok’d her Cheeks, and holy Kisses join’d: | 115 |
| She felt a secret Venom fire her Blood, | |
| And found more Pleasure than a Daughter shou’d; | |
| And, ask’d again, what Lover of the Crew | |
| She lik’d the best; she answer’d, One like you. | |
| Mistaking what she meant, her pious Will | 120 |
| He prais’d, and bad her so continue still: | |
| The Word of Pious heard, she blush’d with shame | |
| Of secret Guilt, and cou’d not bear the Name. | |
| ’Twas now the mid of Night, when Slumbers close | |
| Our Eyes, and sooth our Cares with soft Repose; | 125 |
| But no Repose cou’d wretched Myrrha find, | |
| Her Body rouling, as she rould her Mind: | |
| Mad with Desire, she ruminates her Sin, | |
| And wishes all her Wishes o’er again: | |
| Now she despairs, and now resolves to try; | 130 |
| Wou’d not, and wou’d again, she knows not why; | |
| Stops and returns, makes and retracts the Vow; | |
| Fain wou’d begin, but understands not how: | |
| As when a Pine is hew’d upon the Plains, | |
| And the last mortal Stroke alone remains, | 135 |
| Lab’ring in Pangs of Death, and threatning all, | |
| This way, and that she nods, consid’ring where to fall: | |
| So Myrrha’s Mind, impell’d on either Side, | |
| Takes ev’ry Bent, but cannot long abide: | |
| Irresolute on which she shou’d relie, | 140 |
| At last unfix’d in all, is only fix’d to die; | |
| On that sad Thought she rests; resolv’d on Death, | |
| She rises, and prepares to choak her Breath: | |
| Then while about the Beam her Zone she ties, | |
| Dear Cinyras, farewell, she softly cries; | 145 |
| For thee I die, and only wish to be | |
| Not hated, when thou know’st I die for thee: | |
| Pardon the Crime, in pity to the Cause: | |
| This said, about her Neck the Noose she draws. | |
| The Nurse, who lay without, her faithful Guard, | 150 |
| Though not the Words, the Murmurs overheard, | |
| And Sighs, and hollow Sounds: Surpriz’d with Fright, | |
| She starts, and leaves her Bed, and springs a Light; | |
| Unlocks the Door, and entring out of Breath, | |
| The Dying saw, and Instruments of Death; | 155 |
| She shrieks, she cuts the Zone, with trembling haste, | |
| And in her Arms her fainting Charge embrac’d: | |
| Next, (for she now had leisure for her Tears) | |
| She weeping ask’d, in these her blooming Years, | |
| What unforeseen Misfortune caus’d her Care, | 160 |
| To loath her Life, and languish in Despair! | |
| The Maid, with down-cast Eyes, and mute with Grief, | |
| For Death unfinish’d, and ill-tim’d Relief, | |
| Stood sullen to her Suit: The Beldame press’d | |
| The more to know, and bar’d her wither’d Breast; | 165 |
| Adjur’d her, by the kindly Food she drew | |
| From those dry Founts, her secret Ill to shew. | |
| Sad Myrrha sigh’d, and turn’d her Eyes aside: | |
| The Nurse still urg’d, and wou’d not be deny’d: | |
| Nor only promis’d Secresie; but pray’d | 170 |
| She might have leave to give her offer’d Aid. | |
| Good-will, she said, my want of Strength supplies, | |
| And Diligence shall give, what Age denies: | |
| If strong Desires thy Mind to Fury move, | |
| With Charms and Med’cines I can cure thy Love: | 175 |
| If Envious eyes their hurtful Rays have cast, | |
| More pow’rful Verse shall free thee from the Blast: | |
| If Heav’d offended sends thee this Disease, | |
| Offended Heav’n with Pray’rs we can appease. | |
| What then remains, that can these Cares procure? | 180 |
| Thy House is flourishing, thy Fortune sure: | |
| Thy careful Mother yet in Health survives, | |
| And, to thy Comfort, thy kind Father lives. | |
| The Virgin started at her Father’s Name, | |
| And sigh’d profoundly, conscious of the Shame: | 185 |
| Nor yet the Nurse her impious Love divin’d; | |
| But yet surmis’d, that Love disturb’d her Mind: | |
| Thus thinking, she pursu’d her Point, and laid | |
| And lull’d within her Lap the mourning Maid; | |
| Then softly sooth’d her thus, I guess your Grief: | 190 |
| You love, my Child; your Love shall find Relief. | |
| My long-experienc’d Age shall be your Guide; | |
| Rely on that, and lay Distrust aside: | |
| No Breath of Air shall on the Secret blow, | |
| Nor shall (what most you fear) your Father know. | 195 |
| Struck once again, as with a Thunder-clap, | |
| The guilty Virgin bounded from her Lap, | |
| And threw her Body prostrate on the Bed, | |
| And, to conceal her Blushes, hid her Head: | |
| There silent lay, and warn’d her with her Hand | 200 |
| To go: But she receiv’d not the Command; | |
| Remaining still importunate to know: | |
| Then Myrrha thus; Or ask no more, or go: | |
| I prethee go, or staying spare my Shame; | |
| What thou wou’dst hear, is impious ev’n to name. | 205 |
| At this, on high the Beldame holds her Hands, | |
| And trembling, both with Age and Terrour, stands; | |
| Adjures, and falling at her Feet intreats, | |
| Sooths her with Blandishments, and frights with Threats, | |
| To tell the Crime intended, or disclose | 210 |
| What Part of it she knew, if she no farther knows: | |
| And last, if conscious to her Counsel made, | |
| Confirms anew the Promise of her Aid. | |
| Now Myrrha rais’d her Head; but soon oppress’d | |
| With Shame, reclin’d it on her Nurses Breast; | 215 |
| Bath’d it with Tears, and strove to have confess’d: | |
| Twice she began and stopp’d; again she try’d; | |
| The falt’ring Tongue its Office still deny’d: | |
| At last her Veil before her Face she spread, | |
| And drew a long preluding Sigh, and said, | 220 |
| O happy mother, in thy Marriage-bed! | |
| Then groan’d and ceas’d; the good Old Woman shook, | |
| Stiff were her Eyes, and ghastly was her Look: | |
| Her hoary Hair upright with Horrour stood, | |
| Made (to her Grief) more knowing than she wou’d: | 225 |
| Much she reproach’d and many Things she said, | |
| To cure the Madness of th’ unhappy Maid: | |
| In vain: For Myrrha stood convict of Ill; | |
| Her Reason vanquish’d, but unchang’d her Will: | |
| Perverse of Mind, unable to reply, | 230 |
| She stood resolv’d or to possess, or die. | |
| At length the Fondness of a Nurse prevail’d | |
| Against her better Sense, and Vertue fail’d: | |
| Enjoy, my Child, since such is thy Desire, | |
| Thy Love, she said; she durst not say, thy Sire. | 235 |
| Live, though unhappy, live on any Terms: | |
| Then with a second Oath her Faith confirms. | |
| The Solemn Feast of Ceres now was near, | |
| When long white Linen Stoles the Matrons wear; | |
| Rank’d in Procession walk the pious Train, | 240 |
| Off’ring First-fruits, and Spikes of yellow Grain: | |
| For nine long Nights the Nuptial-bed they shun, | |
| And, sanctifying Harvest, lie alone. | |
| Mix’d with the Crowd, the Queen forsook her Lord, | |
| And Ceres Pow’r with secret Rites ador’d: | 245 |
| The Royal Couch now vacant for a time, | |
| The crafty Crone, officious in her Crime, | |
| The curst Occasion took: The King she found | |
| Easie with Wine, and deep in Pleasures 2 drown’d, | |
| Prepar’d for Love: The Beldame blew the Flame, | 250 |
| Confess’d the Passion, but conceal’d the Name. | |
| Her Form she prais’d; the Monarch ask’d her Years, | |
| And she reply’d, The same thy Myrrha bears. | |
| Wine and commended Beauty fir’d his Thought; | |
| Impatient, he commands her to be brought. | 255 |
| Pleas’d with her Charge perform’d, she hies her home, | |
| And gratulates the Nymph, the Task was overcome. | |
| Myrrha was joy’d the welcom News to hear; | |
| But clogg’d with Guilt, the Joy was unsincere: 3 | |
| So various, so discordant is the Mind, | 260 |
| That in our Will, a diff’rent Will we find. | |
| Ill she presag’d, and yet pursu’d her Lust; | |
| For guilty Pleasures give a double Gust. | |
| ’Twas Depth of Night: Arctophylax had driv’n | |
| His lazy Wain half round the Northern Heav’n, | 265 |
| When Myrrha hasten’d to the Crime desir’d; | |
| The Moon beheld her first, and first retir’d: | |
| The Stars amaz’d, ran backward from the Sight, | |
| And (shrunk within their Sockets) lost their Light. | |
| Icarius first withdraws his holy Flame: | 270 |
| The Virgin Sign, in Heav’n the second Name, | |
| Slides down the Belt, and from her Station flies, | |
| And Night with Sable Clouds involves the Skies. | |
| Bold Myrrha still pursues her black Intent: | |
| She stumbl’d thrice (an Omen of th’Event); | 275 |
| Thrice shriek’d the Fun’ral Owl, yet on she went, | |
| Secure of Shame, because secure of Sight; | |
| Ev’n bashful Sins are impudent by Night. | |
| Link’d Hand in Hand, th’ Accomplice and the Dame, | |
| Their Way exploring, to the Chamber came: | 280 |
| The Door was ope, they blindly grope their Way, | |
| Where dark in Bed th’ expecting Monarch lay: | |
| Thus far her Courage held, but here forsakes; | |
| Her faint Knees knock at ev’ry Step she makes. | |
| The nearer to her Crime, the more within | 285 |
| She feels Remorse, and Horrour of her Sin; | |
| Repents too late her criminal Desire, | |
| And wishes, that unknown she cou’d retire. | |
| Her, lingring thus, the Nurse (who fear’d Delay | |
| The fatal Secret might at length betray) | 290 |
| Pull’d forward, to compleat the Work begun, | |
| And said to Cinyras, Receive thy own: | |
| Thus saying, she deliver’d Kind to Kind, | |
| Accurs’d, and their devoted Bodies join’d. | |
| The Sire, unknowing of the Crime, admits | 295 |
| His Bowels, and profanes the hallow’d Sheets. | |
| He found she trembl’d, but believ’d she strove, | |
| With Maiden-Modesty, against her Love, | |
| And sought with flatt’ring Words vain Fancies to remove. | |
| Perhaps he said, My Daughter, cease thy Fears, | 300 |
| (Because the Title suited with her Years;) | |
| And, Father, she might whisper him agen, | |
| That Names might not be wanting to the Sin. | |
| Full of her Sire, she left th’ incestuous Bed, | |
| And carry’d in her Womb the Crime she bred: | 305 |
| Another, and another Night she came; | |
| For frequent Sin had left no Sense of Shame: | |
| Till Cinyras desir’d to see her Face, | |
| Whose Body he had held in close Embrace, | |
| And brought a Taper; the Revealer, Light, | 310 |
| Expos’d both Crime, and Criminal to Sight: | |
| Grief, Rage, Amazement, cou’d no Speech afford, | |
| But from the Sheath he drew th’ avenging Sword; | |
| The Guilty fled: The Benefit of Night, | |
| That favour’d first the Sin, secur’d the Flight. | 315 |
| Long wandring through the spacious Fields, she bent | |
| Her Voyage to th’ Arabian Continent; | |
| Then pass’d the Region which Panchæa join’d, | |
| And flying, left the Palmy Plains behind. | |
| Nine times the Moon had mew’d her Horns; at length | 320 |
| With Travel weary, unsupply’d with Strength, | |
| And with the Burden of her Womb oppress’d, | |
| Sabæan Fields afford her needful Rest: | |
| There, loathing Life, and yet of Death afraid. | |
| In Anguish of her Spirit, thus she pray’d. | 325 |
| Ye Pow’rs, if any so propitious are | |
| T’ accept my Penitence, and hear my Pray’r, | |
| Your Judgments, I confess, are justly sent; | |
| Great Sins deserve as great a Punishment: | |
| Yet since my Life the Living will profane, | 330 |
| And since my Death the happy Dead will stain, | |
| A middle State your Mercy may bestow, | |
| Betwixt the Realms above, and those below: | |
| Some other Form to wretched Myrrha give, | |
| Nor let her wholly die, nor wholly live. | 335 |
| The Pray’rs of Penitents are never vain; | |
| At least, she did her last Request obtain; | |
| For while she spoke, the Ground began to rise, | |
| And gather’d round her Feet, her Leggs, and Thighs; | |
| Her Toes in Roots descend, and spreading wide, | 340 |
| A firm Foundation for the Trunk provide: | |
| Her solid Bones convert to solid Wood, | |
| To Pith her Marrow, and to Sap her Blood: | |
| Her Arms are Boughs, her Fingers change their Kind, | |
| Her tender Skin is harden’d into Rind. | 345 |
| And now the rising Tree her Womb invests, | |
| Now, shooting upwards still, invades her Breasts, | |
| And shades the Neck; when, 4 weary with Delay, | |
| She sunk her Head within, and met it half the Way. | |
| And though with outward Shape she lost her Sense, | 350 |
| With bitter Tears she wept her last Offence; | |
| And still she weeps, nor sheds her Tears in vain; | |
| For still the precious Drops her Name retain. | |
| Meantime the mis-begotten Infant grows, | |
| And, ripe for Birth, distends with deadly Throws | 355 |
| The swelling Rind, with unavailing Strife, | |
| To leave the wooden Womb, and pushes into Life. | |
| The Mother-Tree, as if oppress’d with Pain, | |
| Writhes here and there, to break the Bark, in vain; | |
| And, like a Lab’ring Woman, wou’d have pray’d, | 360 |
| But wants a Voice to call Lucina’s Aid: | |
| The bending Bole sends out a hollow Sound, | |
| And trickling Tears fall thicker on the Ground. | |
| The mild Lucina came uncall’d, and stood | |
| Beside the struggling Boughs, and heard the groaning Wood: | 365 |
| Then reach’d her Midwife-Hand, to speed the Throws, | |
| And spoke the pow’rful Spells that Babes to Birth disclose. | |
| The Bark divides, the living Load to free, | |
| And safe delivers the Convulsive Tree. | |
| The ready Nymphs receive the crying Child, | 370 |
| And wash him in the Tears the Parent-Plant distill’d. | |
| They swath’d him with their Scarfs; beneath him spread | |
| The Ground with Herbs; with Roses rais’d his Head. | |
| The lovely Babe was born with ev’ry Grace: | |
| Ev’n Envy must have prais’d so fair a Face: | 375 |
| Such was his Form, as Painters when they show | |
| Their utmost Art, on naked Loves bestow: | |
| And that their Arms no Diff’rence might betray, | |
| Give him a Bow, or his from Cupid take away. | |
| Time glides along, with undiscover’d haste, | 380 |
| The Future but a Length behind the past: | |
| So swift are Years: The Babe, whom just before | |
| His Grandsire got, and whom his Sister bore; | |
| The Drop, the Thing which late the Tree inclos’d, | |
| And late the yawning Bark to Life expos’d; | 385 |
| A Babe, a Boy, a beauteous Youth appears; | |
| And lovelier than himself at riper Years. | |
| Now to the Queen of Love he gave Desires, | |
| And, with her Pains, reveng’d his Mother’s Fires. | |
