Which haply turn'd her tatter'd veil aside,
When in her lap a golden vase I spy'd ;
Around fo rich with orient gems enchas'd,
A flamy luftre o'er the gold they cast.
With eager eyes I view the tempting bane,
And failing now secure amid the main,
With felon force I feize the feeming crone,
To plunge her in, and make the prize my own.
To Venus ftrait fhe chang'd divine to view!
The laughing Loves around their mother flew;
Who, circled with a pomp of Graces, stood,
Such as the first afcended from the flood.
I bow'd, ador'd---With terror in her voice,
Thy violence (fhe cry'd) fhall win the prize :
Renew thy wrinkled form, be young and fair;
But foon thy heart fhall own the purchase dear.
Nor is revenge forgot, though long delay'd,
For vows attested in the Malean fhade---
Wrapt in a purple cloud, fhe cut the skies,
And looking down, ftill threat'ned with her eyes.
My fear at length dispell'd (the fight of gold
Can make an avaricious coward bold)

I feiz'd the glittering fpoil, in hope to find
A cafe fo rich with richer treafures lin'd.

The lid remov'd, the vacant space inclos'd
An effence, with celeftial art compos'd;

Which cures old age, and makes the fhrivel'd cheek
Blushy as Bacchus, and as Hebe fleek;

Strength to the nerves the nectar'd sweets supply.
And eagle-radiance to the faded eye.

Nor

Nor sharp disease, nor want, nor age have power T' invade that vigour, and that bloom deflower.

Th' effect I found; for, when return'd to land,
Some drops I fprinkled on my fun-burnt hand;
Where'er they fell, furprizing to the fight,
The freckled brown imbib'd a milky white:
So look the panther's varied fides; and fo
The pheafant's wing, bedropt with flakes of fnow.
I wet the whole, the fame celestial hue

Tinctur'd the whole; mæander'd o'er with blue.
Struck with amazement here, I pause a space;
Next with the liquid fweets anoint my face:
My neck and hoary locks I then bedew,
And in the waves my changing visage view.
Strait with my charms the watry mirror glows,
Those fatal charms that ruin'd your repose!
Still doubting, up I ftart, and fear to find
Some young Adonis gazing o'er behind.
My waste, and all my limbs, I last besmear'd,
And foon a gloffy youth o'er all appear’d.

Long wrapt in filent wonder, on the strand,
I like a statue of Apollo ftand:

Like his, with oval grace my front is spread;
Like his, my lips and cheeks are rofy red;
Like his my limbs are shap'd; in every part
So juft, they mock the fculptor's mimic art:
And golden curls adown my shoulder's flow;
Nor wants there ought, except the lyre and bow.
Reflor'd to youth, triumpant I repair
To court; to captivate th' admiring fair:

My faultlefs form the Lesbian nymphs adore!
Avow their flames, weep, figh, proteft, implore.
There feel I first the penance of my fin;
All fpring without, and winter all within!
From me the fenfe of gay defire is fled,
And all their charms are cordial to the dead.
Or if within my breaft there chance to rife
The fweet remembrance of the genial joys;
Sudden it leaves me, like a tranfient gleam
That gilds the furface of a freezing ftream.
Meantime with various pangs my heart is torn,
Hate ftrives with Pity, Shame contends with Scorn :
Confus'd with grief, I quit the court, to range
In favage wilds; and curfe my penal change.
The phoenix fo, reftor'd with rich perfumes,
Difplays the florid pride of all his plumes;
Then flies to live amid th' Arabian grove,
In barren folitude, a foe to love.

But, in the calm recefs of woods and plains,,
The viper Envy revel'd in my veins ;

And ever when the male carefs'd his bride,
Sighing with rage, I turn'd my eyes aside.
In river, mead, and grove, fuch objects rose,
T'avenge the goddess, and awake my woes:
Fish, beaft, and bird, in river, mead, and grove,
Blefs'd and rever'd the blifsful powers of Love,

What can I do for eafe? C, whither fly?
Refume my fatal form, ye gods, I cry:
Wither this beauteous bloom, fo tempting gay;
And let me live transform'd to weak, and gray!

By

By change of clime my forrows to beguile,
I leave for Sicily my native isle :

Vain hope! for who can leave himself behind;
And live a thoughtless exile from the mind?
Arriving there, amidst a flowery plain

That join'd the fhore, I view'd a virgin-train ;
Who in foft ditties fung of Acis' flame,

And ftrew'd with annual wreaths his amber ftream.
Me foon they faw, and, fir'd with pious joy,
He comes, the god-like Acis comes, they cry:
Fair pride of Neptune's court! indulge our prayer;
Approach, you've now no Polypheme to fear:
Accept our rites: to bind thy brow, we bring
Thefe earlieft honours of the rofy fpring:
So may thy Galatea ftill be kind,

As we thy fmiling power propitious find!
But if (they read their error in my blush ;
For fhame, and rage, and fcorn, alternate flush)
But if of earthy race, yet kinder prove ;
Refufe all other rites, but those of Love.
That hated word new-ftabs my rankling wound;
Like a ftuck deer I startle at the found:
Thence to the woods with furious fpeed repair,
And leave them all abandon'd to defpair.

So, frighted by the fwains, to reach the brake
Glides from a funny bank the glittering fnake:
And whilft, reviv'd in youth, his wavy train
Floats in large fpires, and burns along the plain;
He darts malignance from his fcornful eye,
And the young flowers with livid hiffes dic.

Let my fad fate

your

foft compaffion move,

Convinc'd that Phaon would, but cannot love:
To torture and diftract my foul, are join'd
Unfading youth, and impotence of mind.
The white and red that flatter on my skin,
Hide hell; the grinning Furies howl within ;
Pride, Envy, Rage, and Hate inhabit there,
And the black child of Guilt, extreme Defpair :
Nor of lefs terror to the perjur'd prove
The frowns of Venus, than the bolts of Jove.
When Orpheus in the woods began to play,
Sooth'd with his airs the leopards round him lay:
Their glaring eyes with leffen'd fury burn'd;
But when the lyre was mute, their rage return'd:
So would thy Mufe and lute a while controul
My woes, and tune the difcord of my foul :
In fweet fufpence each savage thought restrain'd;
And then, the love I never felt I feign'd.
O Sappho, now that Mufe and lute employ ;
Invoke the golden goddefs from the sky:
From the Leucadian rock ne'er hope redress;
In love, Apollo boafts no fure fuccefs :
Let him prefide o'er oracles and arts;
Venus alone hath balm for bleeding hearts.
O, let the warbled hymn* delight her ear;
Can fhe when Sappho fings refuse to hear?
Thrice let the warbled hymn repeat thy pain,
While flowers and burning gums perfume her fane.

* Alluding to her Ode to Venus.

And