When with his staff their flimy folds he broke,
And loft his manhood at the fatal ftroke,
But, after feven revolving years, he view'd
The self-fame ferpents in the felf-fame wood;
"And if, fays he, fuch virtue in you lie,
"That he who dares your flimy fold unty
"Muft change his kind, a second stroke I'll try."
Again he ftruck the fnakes, and stood again
New-fex'd, and straight recover'd into man.
Him therefore both the Deities create
The fov'reign umpire in their grand debate:
And he declar'd for Jove: When Juno fir'd,
More than fo trivial an affair requir'd,
Depriv'd him, in her fury, of his fight,
And left him groping round in fudden night.
But Jove (for fo it is in heav'n decreed,
That no one God repeal another's deed ;)
Irradiates all his foul with inward light,
And with the prophet's art relieves the want of fight.
The Transformation of E c H o.
Fan'd far and near for knowing things to come From him th' enquiring nations fought their doom; The fair Liriope his anfwers try'd,
And firft th' unerring prophet juftify'd;
This nymph the God Cephifus had abus'd,
With all his winding waters circumfus'd,
And on the Nereid got a lovely boy,
Whom the foft maids even then beheld with joy.
The tender dame, follicitous to know
Whether her child fhould reach old age or no,
Confults the fage Tirefias, who replies,
"If e'er he knows himfelf he furely dies."
Long liv'd the dubious mother in fufpenfe,
Till time unriddled all the prophet's fenfe.
Narciffus now his fixteenth year began,
Juft turn'd of boy, and on the verge of man;
Many a friend the blooming youth carefs'd,
Many a love-fick maid her flame confefs'd:
Such was his pride, in vain the friend carefs'd,
The love-fick maid in vain her flame confefs'd.
Once, in the woods, as he purfu'd the chace,
The babbling Echo had defery'd his face;
She, who in others' words her filence breaks,
Nor fpeaks herfelf but when another fpeaks.
Echo was then a maid of fpeech bereft,
Of wonted fpeech; for tho' her voice was left,
Juno a curfe did on her tongue impofe,
To fport with every fentence in the clofe.
Full often, when the goddefs might have caught Jove and her rivals in the very fault,
This nymph with fubtle ftories would delay
Her coming, 'till the lovers flipp'd away..
The Goddess found out the deceit in time,
And then the cry'd, "That tongue, for this thy crime, "Which could so many subtle tales produce,
"Shall be hereafter but of little ufe."
Hence 'tis fhe prattles in a fainter tone,
With mimic founds, and accents not her own.
This love-fick virgin, over-joy'd to find
The boy alone, ftill follow'd him behind;
When glowing warmly at her near approach,
As fulphur blazes at the taper's touch,
She long'd her hidden passion to reveal,
And tell her pains, but had not words to tell:
She can't begin, but waits for the rebound,
To catch his voice, and to return the found.
The nymph, when nothing could Narcissus move,
Still dafh'd with blushes for her flighted love,
Liv'd in the fhady covert of the woods,
In folitary caves and dark abodes;
Where pining wander'd the rejected fair,
"Till harass'd out, and worn away with care,
The founding skeleton, of blood bereft,
Befides her bones and voice had nothing left.
Her bones are petrify'd, her voice is found
In vaults, where ftill it doubles every found.
Thus did the nymph in vain caress the boy,
He still was lovely, but he ftill was coy :
When one fair virgin of the flighted train
Thus pray'd the gods, provok'd by his difdain,
"Oh may helove like me, and love like me in vain!"
Rhamnufia pity'd the neglected fair,
And with juft vengeance answer'd to her pray'r.
There ftands a fountain in a darkfom wood,
Nor ftain'd with falling leaves nor rifing mud;
Untroubled by the breath of winds it refts,
Unfully'd by the touch of men or beafts;
High bowers of fhady trees above it grow,
And rifing grafs and chearful greens below.
Pleas'd with the form and coolness of the place,
And over-heated by the morning chace,
Narciffus on the graffy verdure lies:
But whilft within the crystal fount he tries
To quench his heat, he feels new heats arife.
For as his own bright image he furvey'd,
He fell in love with the fantastic shade;
And o'er the fair refemblance hung unmov'd,
Nor knew, fond youth! it was himself he lov'd.
The well-turn'd neck and shoulders he describes,
The fpacious forehead, and the sparkling eyes;
The hands that Bacchus might not scorn to show,
And hair that round Apollo's head might flow,
With all the purple youthfulness of face,
That gently blushes in the wat'ry glass.
By his own flames confum'd the lover lies,
And gives himself the wound by which he dies.
To the cold water oft he joins his lips,
Oft catching at the beauteous fhape he dips
His arms, as often from himself he flips.
Nor knows he who it is his arms purfue
With eager clafps, but loves he knows not who.
What could, fond youth, this helpless paffion move?
What kindle in thee this unpity'd love?
Thy own warm blush within the water glows,
With thee the colour'd fhadow comes and goes,
Its empty being on thyself relies;
Step thou afide, and the frail charmer dies.
Still o'er the fountain's wat❜ry gleam he stood,
Mindlefs of fleep, and negligent of food;
Still view'd his face, and languish'd as he view'd.
At length he rais'd his head, and thus began
To vent his griefs, and tell the woods his pain:
"You trees, fays he, and thou furrounding grove,
Who oft have been the kindly scenes of love,
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