University of Virginia Library

When, O my Soul, wilt thou on Fancy's Wing
Begin to soar, and all thy force exerting
Praise Delos, sacred Isle, Apollo's Nurse;
Th'extended Sea no Isles more sacred knows,
Than are the Cyclades, yet brighter far,
And dearer to the Muses Delos shines;
Whose hospitable Soil receiv'd their KING
Harmonious Phœbus, and the God acknowledg'd
E'er yet his Bow was strung, or tun'd his Lyre.
As to the sacred Nine the Bard's ungrateful
Who mention's not Pimplæa, so to Phœbus,
Is he, who in his Song forgets Fair Delos.
Be then my Harp to Delos praises tun'd,
And may propitious Phœbus bless the Lays,
Regardful of his Darling Nurses Honours.
Tho' to the Winds expos'd, yet fixt she stands,
Deep rooted in the Sea, that round her breaks,
And dashes on her Shore, th'Icarian Foam.
Nor has old Ocean, or Titanian Tethys,
Among their thousand Islands, one so Fair,
Yet next to her, tho' far less Glorious, rise
Phœnician Corsica, and long Abantia,
And the delightful Plains of fair Sardinia.
And that bless'd Isle, where Venus swam to Shore,
Sprung from her Parent Waves, in perfect Beauty,
And still with kindly influence Protects,
Cyprus, the ever blooming Seat of Love.
These stony Rocks, and strong Built Towers defend,
But Phœbus guards his Isle, Defence Impregnable;
Castles of Stone, and Walls of Brass may Fall,
And shatter'd by Strymonian Boreas lie,
But nought destructive can approach Apollo;
So Great, so Mighty, Delos, is thy Guardian.
To thee the Muse might various Tribute bring;
Thee thousand diff'rent Eulogies wou'd Suit
Matter of endless Song, which shall I choose,
Which wilt thou hear most pleas'd? First shall I say,
How the great God of Ocean with his Trident,
Wounded the Continent, and bid the Hills
Far from the Land disjoin'd, and o'er the Waves
Rolling their cumbrous load, in the wide Sea
A second Rooting take, and thenceforth be
Islands immoveable; thee no such Fate,
Thee no such tie constrain'd, but thou at Will
Roamd'st o're the Sea, and wert Asteria call'd.
Thou, who from Heaven's lofty Battlements,
Like a fair Star, that swiftly shoots from High
Dauntless in to the deep Abyss didst Plunge;
T'avoid the Bed of Everlasting Jove.
Thy Coasts the Jolly Sailors oft have seen
In the Saronic Gulph, from fair Trœzene,
Sailing to Ephyra, but at their Return
Have wonder'd at thy Flight, for thou wert gone,
Or to Euripus, or the Seas that Break
At Foot of Attic Sunium, or to Chios,
Or to the blooming Shores of fair Parthenia,
Now Samos call'd, where the soft Nymphs of Mycale
With kindly Hospitality receiv'd thee.
But when the Natals of the great Apollo,
Made consecrate thy Soil, no more thou stird'st;
But deep in the Ægæan fix'd thy Roots,
Unshaken there for e'er to stand, and bear
Thro' all succeeding Times, the Name of Delos.
Thou did'st not fear the angry Queen of Heaven,
Who held in deepest hatred ev'ry Offspring
Of Jove's illegal Bed, but none she fear'd,
Like him, who fill'd Latona's ripening Womb;
For 'twas his glorious Destiny to be
More lov'd by Jove, than was her darling Mars.
For this the Goddess Self, thro' Heav'ns wide Plains
Darted her jealous Eye, and thence far drove
Latona, all in Pangs distrest, nor Earth
Wanted her Guards Keen-sighted, Lodg'd on Œmus
Mars aw'd the Continent with looks of War;
His Horses stabled in dark Boreas' Den:
The other Spie, on Mimas' highest Hill,
Iris explor'd the Sea-girt Isles around.
Such was Latona's Plight, none durst receive,
City or Land, the wand'ring Parent Big.
For wheresoe'er her fainting Steps she turn'd,
For Shelter Kind, they with forbidding Frown
Dash'd each Relief of hospitable Rest;
Arcadia fled, and the Parthenian Mount
Slunk from her outstretch'd Arms, nor kinder yet
Phanëus old from his Foundations Crept.
Fled the wide Land where Antient Pelops Rul'd
Save Argos and Egiale, nor there
Enter'd Latona, Juno's hated Seat.
Aonia fled, and in her flight she drew
Dirce and Strophie with Ismenus Join'd,
Nor stay'd Esopus, but with labour'd Hast,
To shun Latona, in her evil Day,
Painfully roll'd his Thunder-shatter'd Train.
The Melian Nymph, as round she trips the Plain
In joyous Dance, stops with appalled Cheek
To view her Sister Oaks of Helicon,
Bend their dishevel'd Honours to the Blast.
Say, then ye Muses, did one natal Hour
Produce the Oak and call the Nymph to Birth?
Sithence, when vernal Showr's refresh the Tree
Blithsome Exults the Sympathetick Maid.
And when the Winter Blasts dispoil the Year,
Pines for her naked Sister on the Plains.
With silent Indignation, Great Apollo
Perceiv'd their Flight, but Thebes he menac'd loud.
Why proud unhappy City, art thou Bent
To prove by Symptoms dire thy Fate approaching?
Why dost thou force an Infant in the Womb;
To overthrow thee, with prophetick Curses?
No Tripod yet proclaims the Delphick God,
Nor yet is slain the Serpent, from whose Name
Pythian Apollo shall be known, e'en now
The Monster terrible from Plistus' Flood,
Crawling girds round Parnassus' Holy Mount,
With nine wide Circles, of his slimy Length.
Yet will I speak, nor need the Laurel's Aid
To Dictate Fate, in each important Word.
Fly thou, but know I'll soon o'ertake thy Flight;
To dip my Shaft in Blood, remember thou,
There's Profanation in thy guilty Walls,
The impious Brood of a reviling Woman—
Go speed thy Flight—no such detested Soil
Shall Nurse Apollo, nor abhorr'd Citheron
Receive to righteous Lands the Honour due.
He said, and thence Latona sore distrest
Turn'd her to seek elsewhere a Place of rest,
But Entrance none throughout Achaia's Cities;
Bura and Elice she found; but back repuls'd
From each inhospitable surly Gate,
Thessalia next she tries, but sorrowing Views
Anaurus and Larissa far were fled
With the Chironian Hills, beyond the reach
Of loudest Lamentation to recall:
And Peneus' Self o'er Tempe's verdant Soil
Hudled his disregarding Streams away.
O Juno, yet no milder Thought of Mercy
Stole to thy Breast, when Woe invincible,
Threw out Latona's spreading Arms to Heav'n,
And wrung this Supplication, from her Heart.
Ye Nymphs of Thessaly, ye Daughters Fair
Of Peneus' gentle Stream, intreat your Sire,
Hang on his Knees, and stop his hasty Flight.
O why, disdains he in his Waves to take,
A Godhead born, the Son of Jove Almighty.
How easy were the Boon—ah! Why so hasty,
Peneus, as thou would'st Emulate the Winds?
Am I the hated Object wings thy Flight?
Me doest thou shun?—Alas! He listens not,
O thou, my Burden, where shall I betake me,
Where lay thee down! For now from inmost Nature
I feel the slack'ning Nerves give way to Birth;
Oh! Pelion Pelion, yet stay thou more gentle,
The rueful Lioness, can find a Place
To Cradle her young Monsters in thy Woods.
To her complaining Peneus answer'd sad.
Deem not, Latona, that unmov'd I hear
Thy piteous Plaint, but strong Necessity
Witholds my Aid, and checks arising Mercy.
Gladly I'd smooth my Waves into a Bed,
To entertain Latona, and her Son;
Others less dear, than thou, within my Stream,
Have wash'd their recent Babe. But Juno's Threats,
Deterr me, and that sternly visag'd Guard,
Lodg'd on yon summit high; whose easy Hand,
At Will could lift me, from my dark Foundation,
And dash to empty Air my deepest Tide.
What shall I do? say, could'st thou see well pleas'd
Thy unavailing Friend in ruin lost.
But be it so, for thee I'll meet my Fate,
Yes, though I shrink into a thirsty Channel
By Weeds o'ergrown, despis'd by ev'ry Stream,
My Aid I'll bring; and let thy Prayer Invoke
Lucina Friend to ev'ry gentle Birth.
He said and stay'd his Waves; whom Mars observing,
Had well nigh seiz'd Pangæus neigh'bring Hill:
With meditated blow, to overwhelm,
And blot from Earth the disobedient Flood:
But check'd Design so Dire: The God from High,
Gave Signs of Wrath aloud, and on his Shield
Smote Thund'ring his vast Spear—the ringing Peal,
Fill'd all the Continent with wild Alarm.
Ossa with the Cranonian Plains out-stretch'd
Trembled around with Fear, remotest Pindus
Caught the dismay, and skip'd from her Foundation,
And Thessaly, through all her Kingdoms shook.
Such noise o'er the Sicilian Shores is heard
When Briareus, ingulphed Giant huge;
Heaves his tir'd Side against the Mountain load,
That whelms his struggle Vain, all Ætna roars,
And Vulcan's Massy Implements within,
Tripods and Chaldrons, in tumultuous Clash
Groan with a ringing Jarr, thro' all the Caves,
But Peneus, nought repuls'd, tho' menac'd Sore
Stood obstinate his kindess to pursue;
Till, Farewell gentle God, Latona cried,
Live thou, nor for a Wretch thy Fate provoke,
Nor unrewarded shall thy Mercy pass.
She said and weary now with fruitless Search;
The Isles she yet address'd, nor they admitted
Upon their Shores to fix her Pilgrim Feet.
Not the Echinades, else gentle Isles,
With Ports wide open to the riding Bark;
Nor yet Corcyra, of her thousand Sisters
That deck the Seas, most hospitable found.
For Iris frowning from the lofty Top
Of Mimas aw'd the Islands far and near:
To Cos, the Seat of brave Calciope,
Her last sad Hopes, she turn'd; but from within
A Voice reclaim'd her Step, Apollo Spake.
Not here my Birth is doom'd; tho' rich the Soil,
And fit Reception for an Infant God.
But Fate, this consecrated Land reserves,
Nurse for a Future God, a Saviour KING;
Shall here be Born, under whose Diadem
Shall Center proud of Macedonian Rule,
The Inland Nations, and the Sea-girt Isles;
From farthest West, and where the Orient Sun,
First pours the blushing promise of a Day.
Such Pow'r shall Cloath the KING; and all his Father
Shall guide his Heart, and Sanctify his Action.
With me e'erwhile he shall in common War,
Brandish the Victor Sword; the same our Foe,
The same our Laurel, when th'embattled West
Shall Deluge Greece, with her Barbaric Sons,
The Titan Race renew'd; whose gather'd Thousands,
Shall count the driven Snow and Starry Host.
The Locrian Battlements and Delphick Tow'rs,
With the Crissean Plains, and Cities round
Mix in one rueful Groan; the Swain beholds,
His Neighbour's Harvest mounting in a Blaze.
Nor shall Report have told her dismal Tale,
Of distant Desolation, e'er themselves
Sadly Convicted view the Holy Temple
With Legions dire beset, and Hostile Squadrons.
Around my Tripods, with unhallow'd Gleam,
Swords and high Crested Helms, and Shields of War,
Shall Throng tumultuous; but shall ill betide
Their proud Displayers, grasp'd in evil Hour.
The Great Ægyptian KING, with me Victorious;
Shall share the Spoils, bought with imperial Sweat.
Mine by allotment all the scatter'd Trophies
That Strow the Delphick Plains: To him the Nile,
Consigns the Harvest of his bloody Banks,
Bucklers and Spears, quit by expiring Warriors.
To thee, Oh! Ptolemy, I boding Speak;
And thou hereafter all thy happy Days,
Shalt Bless the unborn Prophet of the Womb.
Nor thou, Latona, grieve; there is an Island
That knows no Mansion sure, but ever restless,
Travels the Ocean, or to Winds a Sport,
Or floating Pastime of the rolling Deep.
There let us tend, there no unwelcome Guest,
Shalt thou retreat: While thus Apollo Spake,
Back from the Voice Divine the Isles retir'd.
But thou, Asteria, Musick-loving Goddess,
Down from Eubæa camest in happy Hour
To visit the all-Beauteous Cyclades.
Let Juno, said'st thou, when thy pitying Eyes
Beheld Latona, all in Pangs unutter'd,
Let Juno, wreck her worst, her highest Threats.
I shun not, come, Latona, Mother sad,
Come lay thy Burden on my willing Lap.
Fast by Inopus' Stream, she sat her down,
Which deepest then its sable Current pours:
Observant when with fullest Tide the Nile,
Tumbles from utmost Æthiopia's Hills.
Her Zone unloos'd, back on a Friendly Palm
Reclin'd she gave up all herself to Birth,
And mighty Pangs, as when a God is Born.
And O, she said, while down her fainting Limbs,
Trickled the big cold Drops. Why all these Pains—
Be born my Son, and gentle be thy Birth.
Soon to the unforgiving Wife of Jove,
Sped Iris, big with the ungrateful Tale.
“Oh! Queen ador'd of Heaven, whose Female Arm
Bends the resisting Nations to thy Will,
Ee'n thee, amidst the Splendor of thy Throne,
Will Evil dare approach; thy princely Brow
Shall Frowns of Rage invade, for Maugre thee
Safe on an Isle Latona's Son is Born.
Each Land beside Obsequious to thy Will,
Abhorr'd her near Approach, but proud Asteria,
Asteria, vilest Rubbish of the Seas,
With forward unbeseeched Courtesy
Invites her, as she pass'd, to proffer'd Rest.
She said, and underneath the Golden Throne
Couch'd close, as when Diana leaves the Chase:
Tir'd at her Feet lies her Companion Dog,
And still in list'ning Slumber pricks his Ears
To wait his Mistress' Call: In guise like this
Lay the Thaunantian Maid, nor potent Sleep
Could Bribe her faithful Vigilance to rest.
But on a Corner of the spacious Throne,
Gently her Head reclin'd, she half indulges
Doubtful repose; nor loos'd her Nightly Zone,
Nor doff'd the winged Sandals of her Feet;
Ready attir'd for Juno's High behests.
“And is it thus! Heav'ns angry Queen exclaim'd,
Ye Female Scandals of licentious Jove.
In darksome Haunts ye seek to hide your shame,
And Fenny Caverns where Sea-Monsters Whelp;
Must Nurse your Infant Brood; but well it suits
The dark and pilfer'd Contracts of your Loves.
Nor yet, Asteria, can I justly blame,
Or prosecute thy Crime with equal Vengeance:
So much I owe to thy unvanquish'd Chastity,
That fled'st to Ocean's dark Abyss for refuge,
Rather than stain the holy Bed of Juno.
She said, and now from the Mænian Stream
Pactolus, rose the ever tuneful Swans
Songsters of Phœbus, and around fair Delos
Steer'd in seven Circles their auspicious flight;
And scatter'd as they flew Celestial Notes,
Hymning their new-Born God. From these Apollo
Took the great Hint, to form the Seven string'd Lyre:
The Delian Nymphs descendants of the Flood,
Carrol'd the sacred Song to Elithya.
The vaulted Sky receiv'd the gladsome Song,
And answer'd with reeccho'd Harmony.
E'en Juno then unbidden Transports felt;
Disarm'd of Jealous Hate, she yielding own'd
The universal Joy, and smil'd consenting.
Then was it, Delos, thy Foundations wide
Stood rooted Gold, the Sea that flow'd around,
Wash'd thy admiring Shores with foaming Gold.
With vegetable Gold the Olive bloom'd,
And Golden was Inopus' flowing Tide.
Then thou from off the Ground-extended Gold,
Didst lift the smiling Babe into thy Bosom,
And joyous said'st; see! thou all fruitful Earth,
That boasts thy many Altars, many Cities;
Thou Continent, behold, and neighb'ring Isles,
The mighty produce of the Barren Delos:
A native God, from me Derives his Name,
Apollo, Delian through the World confest.
No Land so dear to her espousing God,
Not Cenchris to her Neptune, nor Cyllene
To Mercury ador'd, nor Crete to Jove,
As Delos to Apollo; nor hereafter mock
My vagrant Soil, for he shall fix me fast,
And bid me Laugh at the eluded Tempest.

So said'st thou, and the mighty Infant pleas'd,
Caught thy distended Paps, and with his Lips
Fix'd an eternal Mark of Holiness
On Phœbus' Foster Land: On thee Bellona,
Nor Pluto treads, nor dare the Steeds of War
Kick with insulting Hoofs thy hallow'd Champaign.
But, each revolving Year, to thee submissive
The Earth devotes from ev'ry distant Region
Her first Born Gifts, and under either Sun
Each City Honours thee in Festal Dance.
Thee too the South resounds, the hardy Race
That freeze in Northern Climes, and with strong Toil
Prolong their Lives beyond the usual Span,
Ne'er fail to Celebrate thy honour'd Name.
They first to thy respected Altars bring
The votive Corn, and consecrated Sheaf.
Which Trav'ling far from tall Dodona's Groves,
The hardy, tough Pelasgians first receive.
Thence thro' the sacred Walls and verdant Mountains,
Of Melis on it passes, o'er Euripus,
To the fair Fields of neighb'ring Eubæa;
Whence short the Passage to thy sacred Shore.
These grateful Presents Upis first and Loxo,
And blooming in full Youth, fair Hecaerge
Brought hither from the Warlike Arimaspians,
Whose Hair, confin'd in Golden Bracelets, Glitters:
Daughters of Boreas all, the Bravest too
And fairest of fierce Arimaspia's Sons,
Low bowing to thy Altars, Delos, came,
Nor to their Native North e'er turn'd their steps,
But here were deck'd with never dying Honours.
For when the pleasing Rites of joyful Hymen
Summon the Delian Nymphs, and Swains to love,
Sacred to Boreas' beauteous Daughters fall
The first shorn Ringlets of the Maiden's Hair.
And to his Sons each Swain with Rev'rence offers
From off his Still-smooth Chin, the Virgin down.
Divine Asteria, thee the Isles enclose,
With beauteous Circle, and surrounding Choir.
To thee nor noise of Mirth, nor happy Song,
Is ever wanting, thee the glittering Beam
Of Hesper, sees for ever Crown'd with Joy.
Some sweetly warble out the Lycian Song;
From Xanthus' Banks, by tuneful Olen brought.
Others in sprightly Dance prolong the Night,
And beat, with bounding Steps, thy hallow'd Soil;
Then frequent Chaplets load fair Venus' Statue,
Propitious ever, to the Lover's Pray'r.
Here Plac'd, in Honour of the smiling Goddess,
By Theseus, with his Band, from Crete return'd.
Who, flying from the Bull's tremendous Roar,
(Dire Offspring of Pasiphae's monstrous Love)
And the deceitful Paths, that lead around
The winding Labyrinth, nor admit Return:
Around thy Altars, Goddess, form'd the Dance.
While Lyres melodious fir'd their joyous Souls,
In circling Choir, by Warlike Theseus led.
Whence, Phæbus, to thy Shrines the Sons of Cecrops,
The Sacred, undecaying Vessel sent.

Divine Asteria, to whose Honour'd Name,
Such Altars Blaze, such frequent Prayr's are Breath'd.
What Sailors traversing the wide Ægean
Ee'r pass'd unvisited thy happy Shores?
Tho' fairest Gales distend their swelling Sails,
And weightiest Business calls their utmost Speed;
At sight of thee they gather in the Shrouds,
And, gratefully retarded, drop the Anchor,
While in thy Harbours rides th'obedient Bark,
Till they in solemn, Mystic Dance Surround,
And smite thy hallow'd Shrines, and with their Teeth,
Crop the fair Branches of the spreading Olive.

Thus Delia sporting sooth'd the Infant God.
Hail! Safest, happiest Island of the Cyclades,
Latona's other Offspring, Cynthia, Hail,
For ever hail! Apollo, God of Delos.