Poems on several occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Theseus, sentenc'd to be devour'd by the Minotaure, is preserv'd by Ariadne, Daughter of Minos, King of Crete; who, for Love of Theseus, and Fear of her Father's Fury, flies by Night with Theseus to Naxos; where he treacherously leaves her, and retires with her Sister Phædra to his Father's Court at Athens.

The following Poem leaves Part of the Story to be understood, and begins at the Day-break after their Flight from Crete, and their first Sight of Naxos.

At length the joyous Morning's welcome Light
Began to shoot through that propitious Night,
Which veil'd the Heav'n, and screen'd their conscious Flight.

When bright Aurora issued from the East,
In all her gaudy Robes of Day-light drest;
And, in an Instant, open'd to their View
The finest Landscape Nature ever drew:
'Twas plenteous Naxos, the belov'd Abode
Of Wine's most Potent, most Luxuriant God:
Which scarce beheld, but leaping from the Main,
(As it were glad to rest itself again)
The Ship cut swiftly thro' the yielding Sand,
And lodg'd its Burthen on the wish'd-for Land.

Then Safety smil'd in ev'ry gladsome Face;
They blest themselves, and hail'd the happy Place.
For, why! ------
The dire Revenge of Minos, most severe,
Had fill'd their guilty Souls with so much Fear,
They had despair'd to wish, much more to meet,
With so secure, and such a sweet Retreat.

Amid the gloomy Horrors of the Deep,
What Soul, tho' most fatigu'd, could think of Sleep?
There was no Rest; but Naxos can supply
Those Blessings which the boist'rous Seas deny.
The swelling Vines here bow themselves in Haste,
And Grapes in Purple Clusters court the Taste:
Promiscuously around, of ev'ry Kind,
A wild Desert of rip'ning Fruits they find:
They're Nature's Guests, nor can they wish for more,
When she so freely lavishes her Store.
Through plenteous Wilds of gay Confusion led,
With easy Steps they gain a Fountain's Head,
Whose Streams of liquid Chrystal swiftly roll
Around the Margin of the verdant Bowl,
While, on each Side, the spreading Beeches seem
To kiss the Clouds, and shade the glitt'ring Stream.

Thus, ev'n beyond their Expectation blest,
'Tis here they gladly lay 'em down to rest;
On flow'ry Pillows, and on verdant Beds,
While quiv'ring Branches rustle o'er their Heads:
And close beneath, the gently murm'ring Streams
Charm them to softest Slumbers, sweetest Dreams.

But, ah! while beauteous Ariadne sleeps,
Thoughtless of Ill, the faithless Theseus keeps
A treach'rous Watch, and real Slumber feigns,
Tho' waking Falshood in his Bosom reigns:
For soon as he perceives her killing Eyes,
Securely veil'd, he gently does arise,
And, with the slowest Motion, lightly moves,
To find the Maid whom he unjustly loves.

This done, with hasty Joy, the guilty Pair
Fly to the Ship, while with officious Care
All Hands do for their instant Flight prepare.
Propitious Winds soon fill their swelling Sails,
The Sable Streamers sport with friendly Gales,
The well-steer'd Rudder ploughs the wat'ry Plain,
Swifter than Thought, they fly along the Main;
And soon the distant Shore of Athens gain.

While Ariadne, lull'd to peaceful Dreams,
Like some bright Angel in a Slumber seems:
Upon a Pillow, which the Earth had made
Of rising Turf, her Head was gently laid:
The blushing Roses stoop'd on either Side,
And strove to kiss her Cheeks with eager Pride:
But, ah! they droop'd, and pale with Envy grew,
To see in them a more Vermilion Hue.

The Lillies, that on either Side did grow,
And in their Whiteness rival'd whitest Snow,
Clos'd their fair Heads, within their Folds retir'd;
And, vanquish'd by her whiter Skin, expir'd.

Mean time, great Bacchus, with his jovial Train,
In savage Triumph came along the Plain;
A spotted Panther, drunk with Lees of Wine,
Reeling and foaming, drew the Carr divine:
A Crowd of Bacchæ ran on either Side,
Their bloated Cheeks with Juice of Elders dy'd;
As many laughing Satyrs, Row by Row,
With wanton Motion skipping to and fro:
While old Silenus, jogging in the Rear,
Did, slowly creeping, on an Ass appear.

It chanc'd at last, that Bacchus bent his Way
Unto the Place where Ariadne lay:

But (Heav'ns!) with how much Wonder did he gaze!
His Train stood still, and all were in Amaze,
To see that unfrequented, lonely Place,
Blest with so sweet a Form, and so divine a Face.

The God was fixt, as rooted to the Ground;
No Motion in his greedy Eyes was found:
He gaz'd, as tho' he would exhaust his Sight;
And seem'd all fill'd with Rapture and Delight:
The wanton Satyrs peep'd, and smil'd, and skipt,
Around the Fair a thousand times they tript;
Yet cautious, lest they should the Nymph affright,
They talk'd in Whispers, and their Steps were light.

At last the God drew nigh, and gently laid
His sacred Body near the sleeping Maid:
While she (in Dreams) not knowing he was there,
Embrac'd him, call'd him Theseus, and her dear:

She press'd his Hand, and to augment his Bliss,
She, (slumb'ring) met his Face, and stole a Kiss.
Great Bacchus, ravish'd with the balmy Taste,
With too, too eager Joy, the Nymph embrac'd;
Who, starting from his Arms, began to wake,
And, gazing, found too late the sad Mistake.
She shriek'd, and leaping from the grassy Bed,
She tore the golden Tresses from her Head:
Aloud she call'd for Theseus: But, alas!
He, like a faithless Wretch, had left the Place:
She beat her Breasts, and wept; but all in vain,
Theseus was gone ne'er to return again.

Now here, now there, she flies with wild Despair,
Her Locks dishevel'd streaming in the Air;
She seeks the Shore, and finds the Vessel gone;
And then, (O heavens!) with what excessive Moan

She fill'd the Place! Within the briny Sea
She would have plung'd, but, ah! that might not be;
She was prevented by the God of Wine,
Who, full of Pity, us'd his Pow'r divine,
To calm her stormy Soul, to ease her Pain,
And place her Reason in its Throne again:
But, Deaf to all the pleading Pow'r could say,
She stopt her Ears, and would have forc'd away.
'Tis thou, said she, (with Fury in her Eyes)
Hast made my dear lov'd Lord a Sacrifice!
Canst thou not kill me too, that I may go
And seek him in the peaceful Shades below?

The God, with Patience, heard the frantick Fair,
With Pity, saw her Anguish and Despair;
He told her Theseus' Falshood, and the Maid
Who had her Lover from her Arms betray'd:

Scarce had she heard, when lo! her Spirits fail,
Convulsive Throws her tortur'd Soul assail;
Bacchus, in pity, takes her to his Arms,
And, by his Pow'r, recall'd her pristine Charms:
He told her of his Passion, and his Truth,
His Pow'r divine, his never-dying Youth;
He let her know the Falshood of Mankind,
And of the Pleasure she would daily find
Within his Arms; He told her she would reign
O'er Him, his Island, and o'er all his Train:
He knelt, he begg'd, he would not be deny'd;
She blush'd and smil'd, and with a Sigh reply'd,
Farewell, false Theseus! Bacchus now shall prove
The only Object of my constant Love.

The God stood ravish'd at her matchless Charms,
He clasp'd the yielding Fair One in his Arms:

The leaping Satyrs did with Joy rebound,
The Bacchæ lightly touch'd the trembling Ground;
Loud Io's fill'd the Place, and ev'ry Voice
Was heard in gladsome Transports to rejoice;
Ev'n Nature's self look'd more sublimely gay,
To solemnize great Bacchus' Nuptial Day.