A collection of original poems and translations :: :: University of Virginia Library

Theseus, the valiant Son of Ægeus King of Athens, for a long while knew not his Father; till travelling into Attica, he by great Fortune there discovered him. But soon after, out of a Principle of Honour, he left the Athenian Court to go to Crete, on a dangerous Expedition; Minos was King of that Place, whose Daughter Ariadne at first Sight fell unhappily in Love with the beautiful Stranger; and assisted him in killing the Minotaur, a Monster that was inclosed in the Middle of a large Labyrinth. It seems she presented him with a Clue of Thread, by which, after the Conquest of the Beast, he guided his Steps back through the many Windings of the Grove. After this signal Service, he promis'd to carry her with him to Athens; but in his Passage Home left her on a desert Island call'd Dia. She prays all the Gods to avenge her, which they do, by making Theseus, when he comes within Sight of Attica, forget to give the appointed Signal of Success at a Distance; by which Means Ægeus thinking his Son dead, threw himself into the Sea and perish'd. Ariadne was afterwards carried into Heaven by Bacchus, and made Constellation.

313

Where the rude Waves on Dia's Harbour play,
The fair forsaken Ariadne lay:
Here first the wretched Maid was taught to prove
The bitter Pangs of ill rewarded Love;
Here saw, just freed from a fallacious Sleep,
Her Theseus flying o'er the distant Deep:
Wistful she look'd, nor what she saw believ'd,
Hop'd some Mistake, and wish'd to be deceiv'd.
While the false Youth his Way securely made,
His Faith forgotten, and his Vows unpay'd.
At length she found her partial Fears too true,
The well-known Vessel less'ning to her View;
Then sick with Grief, and frantick with Despair,
Her Dress she rent, and tore her golden Hair.
The gay Tiara on her Temples plac'd,
The fine-wrought Cincture that her Bosom grac'd,

314

The Fillets, which her heaving Breasts confin'd,
Are rent and scatter'd in the lawless Wind.
The wretched Fair regards them now no more,
Wash'd by the wanton Surges on the Shore.
Such trivial Cares, alas! no Room can find,
Her dear deceitful Theseus fills her Mind;
For him alone she grieves the live-long Day,
Sickens in Thought, and pines her Soul away.

Curst be the Time when Theseus first from Home
Reach'd the Gortynian Tyrant's stately Dome:
In that sad Day what Evils unforeseen
Were form'd in Embryo by the Cyprian Queen?
The Story goes, the Minotaur was fed
With human Victims for Androgeos dead.
Forc'd by a Sickness the Cecropians pay'd
This yearly Tribute to the Hero's Shade:
The Flow'r of Athens were compell'd to bleed,
For thus the cruel Oracle decreed.

315

'Till Theseus, to preserve his Country's Blood,
Himself devoted for the Public Good.
Forth for the Cretan Coast he hoisted Sail,
Fleet sped his Ship, and prosp'rous was the Gale;
Soon as to Minos' awful Court he came,
The Princess saw him, and conceiv'd a Flame.
A grand Pavillion on the Ground there stood,
Celestial Odours issued from the Wood;
On this the Royal Fair repos'd her Charms,
Wrapt in th' Embraces of her Mother's Arms.
Such to the View the goodly Myrtle seems,
Which grows beside Eurotas' crystal Streams;
Thus beautiful the vernal Flow'rs appear,
That glad with gay Variety the Year.
She sat and languish'd, nor her Eyes withdrew,
'Till the whole Frame the sweet Contagion knew.
O cruel Boy, that aim'st the Shafts of Love,
And rul'st the Golgi and Idalian Grove,
You give no Pleasure but has some Alloy,
And blend'st with Trouble our sincerest Joy.

316

You first inspir'd with this unhappy Flame
The Royal Virgin for a Foreign Name.
With what Anxiety was she opprest,
What Tempests labour'd in her troubled Breast,
When her lov'd Youth the Monster met in Fight,
Resolv'd to conquer or to leave the Light?
As when a Storm on Taurus' Top descends,
The waving Oak or Mountain Pine it bends,
At last the Tree up-rooted, in its Way
Bears all before it with impetuous Sway;
So the dread Beast by Theseus taught to yield,
Fell down reluctant on the bleeding Field.
The conquering Hero now returns with Praise,
A Clue directs him through the giddy Maze,
Else his misguided Steps would darkling rove
In the blind Windings of the treach'rous Grove.
It now remains the Virgin's Flight to sing,
Her sudden leaving the afflicted King.
The Mother mourn'd her Child's unhappy Case,
Her Sister stop'd her with a forc'd Embrace:

317

But Father, Sister, Mother, little mov'd,
Her all she yielded for the Man she lov'd.
To Dia's fatal Coast the Lovers steer,
Perfidious Theseus leaves his Mistress here.
Wrapt in deceitful Slumbers while she lay,
The perjur'd Lover basely stole away.
The Nymph with Cries ascends the Mountain's height,
And o'er the distant Ocean strains her Sight,
A boundless Tract: now in the Sea she goes
Baring her Knees, and sighing vents her Woes.

“Why did you take me from my Father's Hand
“To leave me, Theseus, in a Foreign Land?
“Could you so soon my plighted Faith despise,
“And, perjur'd, dare the Anger of the Skies?
“Did nothing in your Breast persuasive prove,
“No soft Compassion melt your Soul to Love?
“Ah me! far other Promises you made,
“Far other Prospects to my View you laid;

318

“The Nuptial Joys I hop'd and Bridal Day,
“But envious Winds have born my Hopes away.
“Let now no Woman trust in Man again!
“False is his Promise, and his Vows are vain.
“When the strong Passions riot unsupprest,
“Men promise largely with an open Breast;
“But soon as Love is with Possession cloy'd,
“Their Words they heed not, and their Oaths are void.
“I sav'd your Life and Honour when at Stake,
“And yielded up my Brother for your Sake.
“For this by Beasts I now must die unmourn'd,
“No Tomb to hide me, and no Rites perform'd.
“Surely your Race is not deriv'd from Men,
“Some Savage Monster whelpt you in her Den;
“Some raging Ocean in her Bosom bore,
“Some Scylla suckled on her cruel Shore;
“Who these Returns bestow; who thus repay
“Your Life defended in the fatal Day.

319

“If that your Father's Orders you revere,
“And hence a Foreign Contract justly fear,
“You might at least have carry'd me a Slave,
“A pleasing Servitude is all I'd have.
“Though Princess born, yet humbly at your Board
“I'd act th' officious Handmaid to my Lord.
“The Bath prepare against you homeward sped,
“Adorn with Purple the forbidden Bed.
“But why lament I to the empty Air?
“Can the Winds answer, or the Tempests hear?
“He that shou'd listen is for ever lost,
“And there's no Creature on the dreary Coast.
“For cruel Fate has plac'd me here alone,
“Nor left one Person to partake my Moan.
“O that all-knowing Heav'n had ne'er decreed
“The Cretan Bull by Theseus' Arm to bleed!
“Happy, too happy, did I live, before
“The Grecian Gally touch'd my Native Shore.
“I little thought in such a Face was Guile,
“Nor saw the Michief lurking in his Smile.

320

“Now what's to do, what wretched Hopes remain?
“Shall I my Father's Kingdom seek again?
“No, there the Earth still reaks with Brother's Blood,
“Nor can I pass the intermediate Flood.
“Shall I then think my Theseus still is true?
“No, for the Traitor basely fled my View.
“Cruel Dilemma! could I get away,
“No Hopes are left me, Death is in my Stay:
“For neither Dwellings nor Companions here,
“No Object glads the Eye, nor Voice the Ear;
“But where I turn my wearied Sight, there reigns
“A Death-like Horror o'er the silent Plains.
“Yet I'll not tamely die without Relief,
“Nor let my just Resentment melt in Grief;
“But all the Heav'nly Pow'rs conjure in Death,
“And call down Vengeance with my latest Breath.
“Arise, ye Furies, from your Iron Beds,
“And rouse the Snaky Terrors of your Heads;
“Rear each her ghastly Front, wherein we find
“The baleful Index of the latent Mind;

321

“O list, attend to what my Pray'rs require,
“'Tis Justice prompts me, and my Wrongs inspire,
“Hear then Propitious, while I now impart
“The mournful Dictates of a broken Heart;
“Those Ills which I from Theseus' Hand sustain
“Return on his devoted House again.”

Fir'd with Resentment thus the Fair one pray'd,
And ample Curses for her Grief repay'd.
Just Jove above with-Pity saw her Ill,
And bowing ratify'd her cruel Will;
At which Convulsions seiz'd the trembling Ground,
And all the Frame of Nature shook around.

Now Theseus homeward as he wings his Way,
Forgets those fatal Orders to obey,
Which when he first from Athens did depart,
Were vainly treasur'd in his faithless Heart:
Nor once bethought his anxious Sire to greet
With the glad Signal of his safe Retreat.

322

Fame sings that Ægeus, when his Son with Hast
Urg'd his Departure o'er the wat'ry wast,
Thus taught the Youth, and as he spoke embrac'd.
My Son than Life more dear, since envious Fate
Divides so early what it join'd so late,
And your too forward Courage from me force,
Consent unwilling for your dang'rous Course,
No Happiness I'll suffer, no Delight,
When your lov'd Image leaves my longing Sight.
But ev'ry Face a Shew of Grief shall wear,
And you yourself no joyous Token bear.
I chief in Sorrow will lament a-while,
And in the Dust my hoary Hairs defile;
Then on the Mast a sable Sail I'll rear,
To represent my Grief and black Despair:
But if our Guardian Goddess shall ordain,
That by your Hand the Cretan Bull be slain,
Then cautious heed, and let no length of Days
These weighty Precepts from your Breast erase;

323

When first you see again your native Shore,
Change the Black Signal which your Vessel wore,
And in its Room let peaceful White arise,
A distant Omen to my joyful Eyes.
To keep the Words the Youth in vain design'd,
They fled insensibly and left his Mind;
So fleecy Clouds, that on some Mount appear,
Melt by degrees and vanish into Air.
From a high Rock that beetles o'er the Flood,
With daily Care the pensive Father stood;
And when he saw impatient from afar
The fatal Signal floating in the Air,
Thinking his Theseus was untimely slain,
He rashly plung'd himself beneath the Main.

The Son now suffers in the Father's Fate,
And feels those Sorrows which he gave so late,
When on the Shore he left the Nymph to mourn
Her Love rejected, and her Hopes forlorn.

324

To her Relief the blooming Bacchus ran,
And with him brought his ever jovial Train.
Satyrs and Fawns in wanton Dances strove,
While the God sought his Ariadne's Love.
Around in wild distorted Airs they fly,
And make the Mountains echo to their Cry.
Some brandish high an Ivy-woven Spear,
The Limbs some scatter of a Victim Steer.
Others in slipp'ry Folds of Serpents shine,
Others apart perform the Rites divine
To wicked Men deny'd. These Tabors take,
These in their Hands the tinkling Cymbal shake,
While many swell the Horn in hoarser Strain,
And make the shrill discordant Pipe complain.

Thus the whole Isle in rural Pleasure smil'd,
Their Dances artless, and their Musick wild;
Yet did it all in happy Consort meet,
Gay the Confusion, and the Discord sweet.
But Bacchus now enamour'd with his Prize,
Resolv'd to make her Partner of the Skies,

325

She sweetly blushing yeilded to the God,
His Car he mounted, and sublimely rode,
And while with eager Arms he grasp'd the Fair,
Lash'd his fleet Tygers through the buxom Air.