Poems on Several Occasions With Imitations from Horace, Ovid, Martial, Theocritus, Bachylides, Anacreon, &c. To which is prefix'd A Discourse on Criticism, and the Liberty of Writing. In a letter to a Friend. By Samuel Cobb ... The Third Edition. To which is added, Poems on the Duke of Marlborough, Prince Eugene, the Electoral Prince of Hannover, with other Poems. Never before Printed |
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The Passion of Myrrha. |
 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
63
The Passion of Myrrha.
Orpheus relates the Story in Ovid. Metam. l. 10. v. 300. beginning
Dira canam, procul hinc natæ, &c.
Amazing things of monstrous Love I tell,
Kindled by Furies, and provok'd by Hell.
O read not, Daughters, my polluted Rhimes;
Ye Parents hence, and shun forbidden Crimes.
But if my Verse shall o'er your Minds prevail,
Think of the Poet, and distrust the Tale.
Or if a Poet your Belief shall win,
Believe that Punishment pursu'd the Sin.
Kindled by Furies, and provok'd by Hell.
O read not, Daughters, my polluted Rhimes;
Ye Parents hence, and shun forbidden Crimes.
But if my Verse shall o'er your Minds prevail,
Think of the Poet, and distrust the Tale.
64
Believe that Punishment pursu'd the Sin.
If yielding Nature in a hotter Clime,
Can viciously comply with such a Crime.
Happy, thrice Happy Ismarus and Thrace,
My Native Country and first breathing Place!
O Rhodope, be thou for ever blest,
Nor frying Heats thy frigid Air infest;
Or to incest'ous Loves provoke a Getick Breast.
Such Faults as these can parch'd Arabia shun?
'Tis well our Climate is not near the Sun.
Where his hot Beams their guilty Influence dart,
To fire the boiling Blood, and scorch the Heart.
Can viciously comply with such a Crime.
Happy, thrice Happy Ismarus and Thrace,
My Native Country and first breathing Place!
O Rhodope, be thou for ever blest,
Nor frying Heats thy frigid Air infest;
Or to incest'ous Loves provoke a Getick Breast.
Such Faults as these can parch'd Arabia shun?
'Tis well our Climate is not near the Sun.
Where his hot Beams their guilty Influence dart,
To fire the boiling Blood, and scorch the Heart.
Shine on, ye sweet Panchœan Groves, and rear
Your Spicy Branches in the scented Air.
Let Cinnamon ambrosial Odours throw,
And costly Plants in the rich Forrests grow.
Let the glad Arab take delight to see
The Spices labour from the sweating Tree.
While Myrrha rises to her own Disgrace;
Vain all her Fragrance from a Cause so base!
Thee, Myrrha, Thee, no Cupid did inspire,
The God of Love refus'd his modest Fire.
He, whose bright Altars never cease to shine
But with a Flame more pure, and more divine,
Disclaims his Title to a Wound, like Thine.
Some Furious Sister of the Cruel Three
Left her delighted Acheron for Thee,
Rose from the dreaded Styx, and in her Hand
Swelling with Venom, shook th' infernal Brand.
The twisted Vipers round her Temples clung,
And thy unguarded Heart with secret Poison stung.
Your Spicy Branches in the scented Air.
65
And costly Plants in the rich Forrests grow.
Let the glad Arab take delight to see
The Spices labour from the sweating Tree.
While Myrrha rises to her own Disgrace;
Vain all her Fragrance from a Cause so base!
Thee, Myrrha, Thee, no Cupid did inspire,
The God of Love refus'd his modest Fire.
He, whose bright Altars never cease to shine
But with a Flame more pure, and more divine,
Disclaims his Title to a Wound, like Thine.
Some Furious Sister of the Cruel Three
Left her delighted Acheron for Thee,
Rose from the dreaded Styx, and in her Hand
Swelling with Venom, shook th' infernal Brand.
The twisted Vipers round her Temples clung,
And thy unguarded Heart with secret Poison stung.
66
To hate a Father, does inhuman show:
But less inhuman than to love him so.
Rich, youthful Lords thy Eastern Countries bear,
And Princes, beauteous as the Gems they wear.
All these contend thy blooming Youth to wed,
And reap the Honours of thy Virgin Bed.
Incline, O gentle Myrrha, and be kind,
Preserve thy Vertue and absolve thy Mind.
Chuse one of these adapted for thy Play,
If out of these thy Father be away.
Some brisk, young Bridegroom, who thy Flames may meet,
With Flames repeated, and requite thy Heat.
But less inhuman than to love him so.
Rich, youthful Lords thy Eastern Countries bear,
And Princes, beauteous as the Gems they wear.
All these contend thy blooming Youth to wed,
And reap the Honours of thy Virgin Bed.
Incline, O gentle Myrrha, and be kind,
Preserve thy Vertue and absolve thy Mind.
Chuse one of these adapted for thy Play,
If out of these thy Father be away.
Some brisk, young Bridegroom, who thy Flames may meet,
With Flames repeated, and requite thy Heat.
Revolving this in her molested Mind,
Th'unquiet Daughter could no Comfort find.
Sometimes she loves, sometimes she hates the Name
Of Lust, like that, and blows away the Flame.
Pensively thoughtful from her Couch she rose,
And Words, like these, her wav'ring Sense disclose.
Th'unquiet Daughter could no Comfort find.
Sometimes she loves, sometimes she hates the Name
Of Lust, like that, and blows away the Flame.
67
And Words, like these, her wav'ring Sense disclose.
O Strange Design! what brooding Thoughts within
Hatch unripe Vices, and unacted Sin?
Me, most unhappy of my Royal Race,
Shou'd I be guilty of a Crime so Base!
Ye Rights of Parents, and ye Gods above,
Oppose the Progress of such Impious Love!
Forbid the Sin! if yet a Sin it be
To love a Father:— But to love like me.
Yet Salvage Beasts have Nature's just Dispense
To couple freely, and without Offence.
When she provokes them on, no Law denies
The Vig'rous L---s, and the promiscuous Ties.
The gen'rous Horse supplies a Husband's place
On his own Daughter, and renews his Race.
The sprightly Sparrow, in his heated Pride,
Receives his wanton Mother for his Bride.
But anxious Care, and conscientious Doubt,
Aw'd tim'rous Man, and sent curst Precepts out.
Nature has hung the goodly Mark in sight,
Gave us a Loose in uncontroul'd Delight.
Would make our Joys immortally divine,
But interposing Laws forbid the Seas to join.
Hatch unripe Vices, and unacted Sin?
Me, most unhappy of my Royal Race,
Shou'd I be guilty of a Crime so Base!
Ye Rights of Parents, and ye Gods above,
Oppose the Progress of such Impious Love!
Forbid the Sin! if yet a Sin it be
To love a Father:— But to love like me.
Yet Salvage Beasts have Nature's just Dispense
To couple freely, and without Offence.
When she provokes them on, no Law denies
The Vig'rous L---s, and the promiscuous Ties.
The gen'rous Horse supplies a Husband's place
On his own Daughter, and renews his Race.
68
Receives his wanton Mother for his Bride.
But anxious Care, and conscientious Doubt,
Aw'd tim'rous Man, and sent curst Precepts out.
Nature has hung the goodly Mark in sight,
Gave us a Loose in uncontroul'd Delight.
Would make our Joys immortally divine,
But interposing Laws forbid the Seas to join.
Yet Lands there are in some remoter Clime,
Where Custom governs, and allows the Crime.
Where the kind Sons obediently comply
With their own Mothers, and improve the Joy.
The Daughter yields her Beauty and her Charms
To an imploring, lusty Father's Arms.
This filial Favour does their Duty prove,
Doubles Affection, and increases Love.
O had I there improv'd my glorious Race,
And ne'er been born in this unlucky place!
Curst be the Hour!—But why should I exclaim,
And with forbidden Hopes abuse my Name?
Away! my Father may be lov'd, 'tis true,
But as a Daughter is oblig'd to do.
Daughter! That Word does all my Bliss destroy,
Or else I cou'd great Cinyras destroy,
I could all Night lie panting by his Side,
And, were he not my Father, be his Bride.
Proximity alone disturbs my Rest,
O were I Foreign, how should I be blest!
Fly, fly thy Country, such a Vice to shun,
Far, far remote, O wretched Myrrha, run
To Climates unpolluted by the Sun.
Yet something stops me, and commands my stay,
An evil Ardour, which I must obey.
Fain wou'd I see my Father Face to Face,
Talk with him, touch him, kiss him, and embrace,
Gaze on his Beauty, and his Form adore,
I'd be content with this,—if nothing more.
O impious Maid! Blast that unruly Thought,
Why shou'd you hope for more than what you ought?
Think'st thou that Laws are useless, and the Names
Of Duty nothing, which a Parent claims?
Thy Father and thy Mother will be sham'd,
And thou an Harlot and Adultress nam'd.
Would'st thou be call'd (Prepostr'ous to be done!)
Thy Brother's Mother, Sister to thy Son?
Think you behold Tisiphone, and dread
The lighted Torches, and her Snaky Head.
See how she glares! how terrible she seems!
Persues your Fancy, and disturbs your Dreams.
Then since alas! he cannot be enjoy'd,
Th' immodest Thought of such a Crime avoid.
Stain not your untouch'd Honour, nor defile
The Law of Nature, with a Lust so vile.
Suppose you would: the Thing requires your Awe,
Your Father's pious, and observes the Law.
And wou'd to Heav'n he had the same Desire,
Burn'd with like Fury, and with equal Fire!
Where Custom governs, and allows the Crime.
Where the kind Sons obediently comply
With their own Mothers, and improve the Joy.
The Daughter yields her Beauty and her Charms
To an imploring, lusty Father's Arms.
This filial Favour does their Duty prove,
Doubles Affection, and increases Love.
69
And ne'er been born in this unlucky place!
Curst be the Hour!—But why should I exclaim,
And with forbidden Hopes abuse my Name?
Away! my Father may be lov'd, 'tis true,
But as a Daughter is oblig'd to do.
Daughter! That Word does all my Bliss destroy,
Or else I cou'd great Cinyras destroy,
I could all Night lie panting by his Side,
And, were he not my Father, be his Bride.
Proximity alone disturbs my Rest,
O were I Foreign, how should I be blest!
Fly, fly thy Country, such a Vice to shun,
Far, far remote, O wretched Myrrha, run
To Climates unpolluted by the Sun.
Yet something stops me, and commands my stay,
An evil Ardour, which I must obey.
70
Talk with him, touch him, kiss him, and embrace,
Gaze on his Beauty, and his Form adore,
I'd be content with this,—if nothing more.
O impious Maid! Blast that unruly Thought,
Why shou'd you hope for more than what you ought?
Think'st thou that Laws are useless, and the Names
Of Duty nothing, which a Parent claims?
Thy Father and thy Mother will be sham'd,
And thou an Harlot and Adultress nam'd.
Would'st thou be call'd (Prepostr'ous to be done!)
Thy Brother's Mother, Sister to thy Son?
Think you behold Tisiphone, and dread
The lighted Torches, and her Snaky Head.
See how she glares! how terrible she seems!
Persues your Fancy, and disturbs your Dreams.
Then since alas! he cannot be enjoy'd,
Th' immodest Thought of such a Crime avoid.
71
The Law of Nature, with a Lust so vile.
Suppose you would: the Thing requires your Awe,
Your Father's pious, and observes the Law.
And wou'd to Heav'n he had the same Desire,
Burn'd with like Fury, and with equal Fire!
She spake, and from her Royal Chamber came,
But labour'd to conceal the struggling Flame.
The Cyprian Court shone with the noblest Lords,
And richest which the wealthy East affords.
Contending Princes crowded in to wooe,
So bright a Train the conqu'ring Myrrha drew!
Her Father, doubting, ask'd her which to chuse,
To whom she wou'd consent, and whom refuse.
The blushing Virgin knew not what to speak,
But fixes Face to Face, and Cheek to Cheek.
O how the Dew did uncommanded rise,
And in warm Rivers trickle from her Eyes!
Her loving Father wipes away the Tears,
Thinks them the Tokens of a Virgin's Fears,
Then on her Lips he seal'd a gentle Kiss;
She gladly press'd her eager Lips to His.
Grasp'd him with Lovers Arms, as loth to part,
A more than filial Joy enlarg'd her Heart.
Ask'd to what Prince she wou'd be closely ty'd,
In whom she wou'd delight; she streight reply'd,
In one like You: Her Royal Father smil'd,
Call'd her Dear Daughter, and Obedient Child.
Daughter! that Word was Poison; at the Name
She hung her conscious Head, & blush'd with shame.
'Twas now the Noon of Night, when Mortals steep
Their weary'd Bodies, and their Cares in Sleep:
Not so did Myrrha; for her Flames of Love
Were far more watchful than those Fires above.
Sometime in Rage her dangling Locks she tears,
Stifles her furious Wishes, and despairs.
Sometimes resolving to reveal her Fires,
Shame stops her Speech, but not her strong desires.
As when some lofty and Imperial Oak,
E're she receives the last deciding stroke,
Nods here and there, and, doubting where to fall,
On all sides threatens, and is fear'd on all.
With various Wounds so Myrrha's Mind's opprest,
Unfixt each moment, and unus'd to Rest.
No Ease at last, no Remedy is found,
But Death alone, to heal the mortal Wound.
Then welcome, Death, the Cure of Love, she cries,
And to a Beam her Golden Girdle ties.
Farewel, she groan'd, Dear Cinyras, farewel!
Oh! at those Words what Briny Rivers fell!
Let This, said she, (and pointed to the Knot)
Declare my Love, when Myrrha is forgot.
'Tis said, the Nurse o'erheard her silent Moans,
Her faultring Speech, and undistinguish'd Groans;
With eager Haste up rose the trembling Dame,
Unlock'd the Doors, and to her Chamber came.
When entring (who the Horrour can relate?)
She saw the ready Instruments of Fate.
What Tears she shed! what Fears her Mind possest!
At once she tore her Hair and beat her Brest.
From Myrrha's milky Neck the Cord she rent,
And then she took some Minutes to lament:
Embrac'd her close, and with a tastless Kiss,
Ask'd her the cause of a Despair like This.
A dreadful Silence seiz'd the Royal Maid,
Her Crime discover'd, and Attempt betray'd.
Her Head hangs down, her steddy Eye-balls stare,
Fix'd on the Ground, as if her Eyes grew there.
In muttering Sounds she curses as she stands,
Th' unfinish'd Labour of her tardy Hands.
Th' old Beldam urges, with her Bosom bare,
Her empty Breasts, and ragged, hoary Hair,
To tell her secret Troubles, and impart
The pungent Anguish of her wounded Heart.
By all th' indearments of her tender Yeare,
By her first Cradle, and her Infant Tears.
By Myrrha turn'd away, her Face to hide;
Again she asks and is again deny'd.
Trust me, she said, I'll be for ever true,
Nor only secret, but assisting too.
Think me not useless in my Life's last Page;
The Mind grows stronger by experienc'd Age.
Say, my dear Myrrha, is it Love you feel?
My Charms shall loose it, and my Herbs shall heal.
Or if some evil Look thy Mind betray,
We'll purge the Venom in a Magick Way.
If Heav'n be angry, we will Heav'n invoke,
Altars shall shine, and Frankincense shall smoke.
What shall I think? your Fortune and Estate
Are safe from Danger and the Shock of Fate,
Your Mother's Beauteous, and your Father's Great.
When she heard Father nam'd, what Groans did shake
Her tortur'd Breast, as if her Heart would break!
And now the cunning Beldam does begin
To find 'tis Love, but dreams not of the Sin.
Impatient, and resolv'd, with eager Haste,
The weeping Virgin in her Lap she plac'd,
And threw her wither'd Arms around her Waste.
Come tell me, Daughter, (nor believe me blind)
I see the sad Distemper of your Mind:
Tell me your Man, and I'll so careful prove,
That your own Father shall not know your Love,
Trust me, he shall not. At those Words she sprung
From her weak Arms, like one possest, and wrung
Her snowy Hands, about the Room she flew,
And on the Couch her wretched Body threw.
Be gone, said she, I cannot, dare not name
The secret Causes of my rising Shame.
Depart the Room, or cease to vex me so;
O 'tis a Crime which you desire to know.
Th' astonish'd Dame in wild Amaze appears,
And trembles more with Horrour than with Years.
Kneels at her Feet, and when her Flatt'ries fail,
She try's how Threats and Anger can prevail.
Shows her the Halter, frights her to confess,
Threatning, the Court shall know the dire Disgrace.
But vows, if trusted, to be true and kind;
A heavy Sorrow prest the Virgin's Mind:
Her ready Tongue was lifted up to tell,
But down th' unwilling, willing Member fell.
When her swift Words refus'd a longer Stay,
And broke through Sighs and Groans, which stop'd their Way.
O Happy Mother (here she hid her Face)
In such a Husband, such a King's Embrace!
And then she groan'd. At this the Nurse began
To fear: deep Horrour thro' her Marrow ran.
Her lank, white Hairs, erected with the Fright,
Rose in a bristly Form, and stood upright.
With solid Proofs she argu'd to disswade
Th' unnatural Passion of the Royal Maid.
The Royal Maid with deep Attention heard
Her just Disswasions, and her Counsels fear'd:
Knew she spoke Truth; but with a fainting Breath
Groan'd out, I must enjoy my Love or Death.
Live then, said she, you shall enjoy! your Love;
She spake; and vouch'd it with the Name of Love.
But labour'd to conceal the struggling Flame.
The Cyprian Court shone with the noblest Lords,
And richest which the wealthy East affords.
Contending Princes crowded in to wooe,
So bright a Train the conqu'ring Myrrha drew!
Her Father, doubting, ask'd her which to chuse,
To whom she wou'd consent, and whom refuse.
The blushing Virgin knew not what to speak,
But fixes Face to Face, and Cheek to Cheek.
72
And in warm Rivers trickle from her Eyes!
Her loving Father wipes away the Tears,
Thinks them the Tokens of a Virgin's Fears,
Then on her Lips he seal'd a gentle Kiss;
She gladly press'd her eager Lips to His.
Grasp'd him with Lovers Arms, as loth to part,
A more than filial Joy enlarg'd her Heart.
Ask'd to what Prince she wou'd be closely ty'd,
In whom she wou'd delight; she streight reply'd,
In one like You: Her Royal Father smil'd,
Call'd her Dear Daughter, and Obedient Child.
Daughter! that Word was Poison; at the Name
She hung her conscious Head, & blush'd with shame.
'Twas now the Noon of Night, when Mortals steep
Their weary'd Bodies, and their Cares in Sleep:
Not so did Myrrha; for her Flames of Love
Were far more watchful than those Fires above.
73
Stifles her furious Wishes, and despairs.
Sometimes resolving to reveal her Fires,
Shame stops her Speech, but not her strong desires.
As when some lofty and Imperial Oak,
E're she receives the last deciding stroke,
Nods here and there, and, doubting where to fall,
On all sides threatens, and is fear'd on all.
With various Wounds so Myrrha's Mind's opprest,
Unfixt each moment, and unus'd to Rest.
No Ease at last, no Remedy is found,
But Death alone, to heal the mortal Wound.
Then welcome, Death, the Cure of Love, she cries,
And to a Beam her Golden Girdle ties.
Farewel, she groan'd, Dear Cinyras, farewel!
Oh! at those Words what Briny Rivers fell!
Let This, said she, (and pointed to the Knot)
Declare my Love, when Myrrha is forgot.
74
Her faultring Speech, and undistinguish'd Groans;
With eager Haste up rose the trembling Dame,
Unlock'd the Doors, and to her Chamber came.
When entring (who the Horrour can relate?)
She saw the ready Instruments of Fate.
What Tears she shed! what Fears her Mind possest!
At once she tore her Hair and beat her Brest.
From Myrrha's milky Neck the Cord she rent,
And then she took some Minutes to lament:
Embrac'd her close, and with a tastless Kiss,
Ask'd her the cause of a Despair like This.
A dreadful Silence seiz'd the Royal Maid,
Her Crime discover'd, and Attempt betray'd.
Her Head hangs down, her steddy Eye-balls stare,
Fix'd on the Ground, as if her Eyes grew there.
In muttering Sounds she curses as she stands,
Th' unfinish'd Labour of her tardy Hands.
75
Her empty Breasts, and ragged, hoary Hair,
To tell her secret Troubles, and impart
The pungent Anguish of her wounded Heart.
By all th' indearments of her tender Yeare,
By her first Cradle, and her Infant Tears.
By Myrrha turn'd away, her Face to hide;
Again she asks and is again deny'd.
Trust me, she said, I'll be for ever true,
Nor only secret, but assisting too.
Think me not useless in my Life's last Page;
The Mind grows stronger by experienc'd Age.
Say, my dear Myrrha, is it Love you feel?
My Charms shall loose it, and my Herbs shall heal.
Or if some evil Look thy Mind betray,
We'll purge the Venom in a Magick Way.
76
Altars shall shine, and Frankincense shall smoke.
What shall I think? your Fortune and Estate
Are safe from Danger and the Shock of Fate,
Your Mother's Beauteous, and your Father's Great.
When she heard Father nam'd, what Groans did shake
Her tortur'd Breast, as if her Heart would break!
And now the cunning Beldam does begin
To find 'tis Love, but dreams not of the Sin.
Impatient, and resolv'd, with eager Haste,
The weeping Virgin in her Lap she plac'd,
And threw her wither'd Arms around her Waste.
Come tell me, Daughter, (nor believe me blind)
I see the sad Distemper of your Mind:
Tell me your Man, and I'll so careful prove,
That your own Father shall not know your Love,
77
From her weak Arms, like one possest, and wrung
Her snowy Hands, about the Room she flew,
And on the Couch her wretched Body threw.
Be gone, said she, I cannot, dare not name
The secret Causes of my rising Shame.
Depart the Room, or cease to vex me so;
O 'tis a Crime which you desire to know.
Th' astonish'd Dame in wild Amaze appears,
And trembles more with Horrour than with Years.
Kneels at her Feet, and when her Flatt'ries fail,
She try's how Threats and Anger can prevail.
Shows her the Halter, frights her to confess,
Threatning, the Court shall know the dire Disgrace.
But vows, if trusted, to be true and kind;
A heavy Sorrow prest the Virgin's Mind:
78
But down th' unwilling, willing Member fell.
When her swift Words refus'd a longer Stay,
And broke through Sighs and Groans, which stop'd their Way.
O Happy Mother (here she hid her Face)
In such a Husband, such a King's Embrace!
And then she groan'd. At this the Nurse began
To fear: deep Horrour thro' her Marrow ran.
Her lank, white Hairs, erected with the Fright,
Rose in a bristly Form, and stood upright.
With solid Proofs she argu'd to disswade
Th' unnatural Passion of the Royal Maid.
The Royal Maid with deep Attention heard
Her just Disswasions, and her Counsels fear'd:
Knew she spoke Truth; but with a fainting Breath
Groan'd out, I must enjoy my Love or Death.
79
She spake; and vouch'd it with the Name of Love.
'Twas now the time, when yellow Ceres yields
The bearded Honours of the fruitful Fields.
When pious Matrons to her Temple go,
And clad in Garments imitating Snow,
Pay the first Fruits to her by whom they grow.
'Tis counted heinous, for nine tedious Nights
To taste of Love and conjugal Delights.
'Mongst these, the Consort of the Cyprian Throne
Appear'd, and left her Cinyras alone.
The Beldam chose this favourable Time,
The Queen now absent, to promote the Crime.
And now she goes, her Promise to fulfil,
Wickedly careful, diligently ill.
For as on bed the lusty Monarch lay,
Opprest with Wine, and full of amorous Play
Which Wine had rais'd: in comes the studious Dame,
Disclosing under a dissembled Name,
The Love of Myrrha, and provokes his Flame.
And when with stammering Speech the King inquires
Whether her Bloom would answer his Desires.
She streight replies with a deluding Tongue,
She's fair, like Myrrha, and like Myrrha, young.
Haste then, said he, and fetch this charming Maid;
She flies, and answers you shall be obey'd.
Returning home, Daughter rejoyce she cry'd,
For we have conquer'd on the surest side,
Th' unhappy Maid no perfect Joy could feel,
A conscious Grief presag'd approaching Ill;
Yet She rejoyc'd: So various is her Will.
The bearded Honours of the fruitful Fields.
When pious Matrons to her Temple go,
And clad in Garments imitating Snow,
Pay the first Fruits to her by whom they grow.
'Tis counted heinous, for nine tedious Nights
To taste of Love and conjugal Delights.
'Mongst these, the Consort of the Cyprian Throne
Appear'd, and left her Cinyras alone.
The Beldam chose this favourable Time,
The Queen now absent, to promote the Crime.
And now she goes, her Promise to fulfil,
Wickedly careful, diligently ill.
For as on bed the lusty Monarch lay,
Opprest with Wine, and full of amorous Play
80
Disclosing under a dissembled Name,
The Love of Myrrha, and provokes his Flame.
And when with stammering Speech the King inquires
Whether her Bloom would answer his Desires.
She streight replies with a deluding Tongue,
She's fair, like Myrrha, and like Myrrha, young.
Haste then, said he, and fetch this charming Maid;
She flies, and answers you shall be obey'd.
Returning home, Daughter rejoyce she cry'd,
For we have conquer'd on the surest side,
Th' unhappy Maid no perfect Joy could feel,
A conscious Grief presag'd approaching Ill;
Yet She rejoyc'd: So various is her Will.
'Twas the deep Ebb of Night: Bootes Car
Mov'd upwards, rowling nigh the Northern Star.
Her dubious Mind divided passions sway'd,
Slowly she walk'd, half joyful, half afraid.
The bashful Moon blush'd at th' unseemly Sight,
Drove down the Sky, and hid her borrow'd Light:
The glimm'ring Lamps above, which wink'd before
On mortal Crimes, saw this, and wink'd no more.
Th' Icarian Taper did her Brightness shrowd,
And Virgo fled behind a misty Cloud.
Thrice (hateful Sign!) she Stumbled, as she went,
Thrice were her Knees upon the Threshold bent.
The hooting Owl in an unlucky Note,
Thrice Scream'd ill Omens from his fatal Throat.
Still she goes on, while Night's officious Shade
Asists the Boldness of the lustful Maid.
On the Dame's Shoulders her left Hand she Lay,
While t'other blindly feels the secret Way.
Now at the destin'd Chamber-Door she Stands,
With shivering Knees, sad Looks, and trembling Hands.
The Rose and Lilly vanish'd from her Face,
And Fear and Paleness leap'd into their Place.
Her Courage fails, which boil'd so high within;
And oh! how willing would she shun the Sin!
She now repents; thinks it a Crime to stay,
The pressing Beldam chid her dull delay,
And drew her, where th' expecting Monarch Lay.
Here take your Love, embrace her, and be Kind,
And then their two devoted Breasts she joyn'd.
The Father revels in soft filial Charms
And throws around her his polluted Arms.
Perhaps, with rev'rence to his graver Years,
Call'd her, dear Daughter, to allay her Fears.
But she, perhaps, tho' trembling at the Name,
Might call him, Father; to compleat their Shame.
And now the fatal Bed the Daughter leaves,
While with incestuous Seed her Womb conceives.
Nor is He sated with unripe Delights,
The Crime is doubled by repeated Nights.
Till Cinyrds with long Enjoyment tir'd,
Began to loath what he so much desir'd:
And fain wou'd know on what soft Lady's Breast
So oft he panted; whom so oft carest.
At his Command discov'ring Lights betray'd
His Crime, and Daughter, now no more a Maid.
He saw, he blush'd, he wept, his Soul boil'd more
With Indignation, than with Lust before.
Straight from his Sheath his shining Sword he drew;
Up Myrrha starting, to the Desart flew.
The friendly Darkness of th' officious Night
Diverts her Murder, and assists her Flight
O'er spacious Meadows, and deserted Sands,
Palmy Arabia, and Panchœan Lands.
Nine times the Moon hid her diminish'd Head,
And blush'd as often with increasing Red,
E're Wandring Myrrha in Sabœa's Wood,
Tir'd, and impatient of her Burthen, stood.
Where thus contending in a doubtful Strife,
The Fear of Death, and Weariness of Life:
She to the Pow'rs above these Pray'rs addrest:
Ye Pow'rs, if any pity Crimes confest,
I ask no Pardon, no Reprieve desire;
But punish Myrrha as her Crimes require.
Yet, lest my Life or Death Infection spread
Among the Living or among the Dead,
Transform my wretched Shape. I neither crave
To breath in Air, nor moulder in the Grave.
Mov'd upwards, rowling nigh the Northern Star.
81
Slowly she walk'd, half joyful, half afraid.
The bashful Moon blush'd at th' unseemly Sight,
Drove down the Sky, and hid her borrow'd Light:
The glimm'ring Lamps above, which wink'd before
On mortal Crimes, saw this, and wink'd no more.
Th' Icarian Taper did her Brightness shrowd,
And Virgo fled behind a misty Cloud.
Thrice (hateful Sign!) she Stumbled, as she went,
Thrice were her Knees upon the Threshold bent.
The hooting Owl in an unlucky Note,
Thrice Scream'd ill Omens from his fatal Throat.
Still she goes on, while Night's officious Shade
Asists the Boldness of the lustful Maid.
On the Dame's Shoulders her left Hand she Lay,
While t'other blindly feels the secret Way.
Now at the destin'd Chamber-Door she Stands,
With shivering Knees, sad Looks, and trembling Hands.
82
And Fear and Paleness leap'd into their Place.
Her Courage fails, which boil'd so high within;
And oh! how willing would she shun the Sin!
She now repents; thinks it a Crime to stay,
The pressing Beldam chid her dull delay,
And drew her, where th' expecting Monarch Lay.
Here take your Love, embrace her, and be Kind,
And then their two devoted Breasts she joyn'd.
The Father revels in soft filial Charms
And throws around her his polluted Arms.
Perhaps, with rev'rence to his graver Years,
Call'd her, dear Daughter, to allay her Fears.
But she, perhaps, tho' trembling at the Name,
Might call him, Father; to compleat their Shame.
And now the fatal Bed the Daughter leaves,
While with incestuous Seed her Womb conceives.
83
The Crime is doubled by repeated Nights.
Till Cinyrds with long Enjoyment tir'd,
Began to loath what he so much desir'd:
And fain wou'd know on what soft Lady's Breast
So oft he panted; whom so oft carest.
At his Command discov'ring Lights betray'd
His Crime, and Daughter, now no more a Maid.
He saw, he blush'd, he wept, his Soul boil'd more
With Indignation, than with Lust before.
Straight from his Sheath his shining Sword he drew;
Up Myrrha starting, to the Desart flew.
The friendly Darkness of th' officious Night
Diverts her Murder, and assists her Flight
O'er spacious Meadows, and deserted Sands,
Palmy Arabia, and Panchœan Lands.
84
And blush'd as often with increasing Red,
E're Wandring Myrrha in Sabœa's Wood,
Tir'd, and impatient of her Burthen, stood.
Where thus contending in a doubtful Strife,
The Fear of Death, and Weariness of Life:
She to the Pow'rs above these Pray'rs addrest:
Ye Pow'rs, if any pity Crimes confest,
I ask no Pardon, no Reprieve desire;
But punish Myrrha as her Crimes require.
Yet, lest my Life or Death Infection spread
Among the Living or among the Dead,
Transform my wretched Shape. I neither crave
To breath in Air, nor moulder in the Grave.
Some God or Goddess, milder than the rest,
Assented kindly to her last Request.
Robb'd of her Beauty, of her Form depriv'd,
In part she perish'd, and in part surviv'd.
Her Senses gone, still mournful she appears,
Weeping sweet Drops of Estimable Tears.
Her Name shall flourish in Sabœan Myrrh,
An odoriferous Tree, so call'd from Her.
Assented kindly to her last Request.
85
In part she perish'd, and in part surviv'd.
Her Senses gone, still mournful she appears,
Weeping sweet Drops of Estimable Tears.
Her Name shall flourish in Sabœan Myrrh,
An odoriferous Tree, so call'd from Her.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |