University of Virginia Library

Alphæus and Arethusa.

Of Arethusa's change I Mourning Sing,
And how the Nymph became a sacred Spring.
To Hunt, and Toil, her dear Diversions were,
And yet she Justly was reputed fair.
The Virgin griev'd her Beauties did excel,
And thought it infamy to please too well.
As from the Woods, tir'd with the chace she came,
She found a silent, and a Silver stream.
Securely close, and so exceeding clear,
That every smallest Pebble wou'd appear.
Pleas'd with the coolness of the Place she Wades,
And makes the Waters brighter where she treads.
Then, leaves her Robes upon a Sallow's Top,
And swims, and plunges still, to bear her up.
Now, to the further side she gently rows,
And plays, and sports, and wantons as she goes;
When, all amaz'd, she heard a stranger's Tongue,
And, in Confusion, to the Bank she Sprung.
Whither so fast? Alphæus loudly Cries;
She makes no Answer, but all trembling flies.
He fleetly hasts to Seize his Beauteous prey,
Who seem'd, when leaping from the Streams away,
A Venus rising from a Silver Sea.
Wing'd with her fear, fair Arethusa flew,
While fierce Alphæus did as fast pursue.
The more he hasts, the more he sees her fly,
And still he catches, when he thinks her nigh.
Nearer, much nearer he desires to see,
And grieves to find he is not swift as she.
As Doves do Hawks, she shuns him, all amaz'd,
And almost thinks she is already seiz'd.
The Lover still his hot pursuit maintains
Thro' Craggy Mountains, over Hills, and Plains.
Follows all eager, nor would e'er forbear,
And almost now o'ertakes the flying fair.
She sees his shadow, and his steps she hears,
Feels his warm Breath, and now, and now she fears,
Quite spent, she Cries, your aid Diana send,
Hast, Chastest Goddess, and a Nymph befriend.
When a thick Mist the helpless Virgin shrouds,
And the sad Maid is vail'd with pitchy Clouds.
The wond'ring Lover searches all around,
But she must never, never more be found.
That Sun of Beauty by the Fogs o'ercast,
Must shine no more, but set in Floods at last.
He ranges on, and every means he tries,
Then, Lovely Arethusa, loudly Cries.
As a poor Lamb grows stupid with her fears,
When howling Wolves about the fold she hears.
So, all amaz'd, the Maid stands trembling there,
And Begs protection from the Gods by Pray'r.
She sighs, and weeps, cold sweats come o'er her Face,
And trickling drops run down her Limbs apace.
Her Beauteous Hair dissolves to Fragrant dew,
And all consum'd, a Silver stream she grew.