John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series
Page 88
And doubts the Gods; yet both resolve to try.
Descending from the Mount, they first unbind: 535
Their Vests, and veil’d, they cast the Stones behind:
The Stones (a Miracle to Mortal View,
But long Tradition makes it pass for true)
Did first the Rigour of their Kind expell,
And suppl’d into softness as they fell; 540
Then swell’d, and swelling, by degrees grew warm;
And took the Rudiments of Humane Form;
Imperfect shapes: in Marble such are seen,
When the rude Chizzel does the Man begin;
While yet the roughness of the Stone remains, 545
Without the rising Muscles, and the Veins.
The sappy parts, and next resembling juice,
Were turn’d to Moisture, for the Bodies use:
Supplying humours, blood, and nourishment:
The rest, (too solid to receive a bent;) 550
Converts to bones; and what was once a vein,
Its former Name and Nature did retain.
By help of Pow’r Divine, in little space,
What the Man threw, assum’d a Manly face;
And what the Wife, renew’d the Female Race. 555
Hence we derive our Nature, born to bear
Laborious life; and harden’d into care.
The rest of Animals, from teeming Earth
Produc’d, in various Forms receiv’d their birth.
The native moisture, in its close retreat, 560
Digested by the Sun’s Æthereal heat,
As in a kindly Womb, began to breed:
Then swell’d and quicken’d by the vital seed.
And some in less, and some in longer space,
Were ripen’d into form, and took a several face. 565
Thus when the Nile from Pharian Fields is fled,
And seeks, with Ebbing Tides, his ancient Bed,
The fat Manure with Heav’nly Fire is warm’d;
And crusted Creatures, as in Wombs are form’d:
These, when they turn the Glebe, the Peasants find: 570
Some rude, and yet unfinish’d in their Kind:
Short of their Limbs, a lame imperfect Birth;
One half alive; and one of lifeless Earth.
For heat and moisture, when in Bodies joyn’d,
The temper that results from either Kind, 575
Conception makes; and fighting, till they mix,
Their mingl’d Atoms in each other fix.
Thus Nature’s hand the Genial Bed prepares
With Friendly Discord, and with fruitful Wars.
From hence the surface of the Ground with Mud 580
And Slime besmear’d (the fæces of the Flood),
Receiv’d the Rays of Heav’n; and sucking in
The Seeds of Heat, new Creatures did begin:
Some were of sev’ral sorts produc’d before;
But of new Monsters, Earth created more. 585
Unwillingly, but yet she brought to light
Thee, Python too, the wondring World to fright,
And the new Nations, with so dire a Sight.
So monstrous was his Bulk, so large a space
Did his vast Body, and long Train embrace: 590
Whom Phœbus basking on a Bank espy’d,
E’re now the God his Arrows had not try’d
But on the trembling Deer, or Mountain Goat;
At this new Quarry he prepares to shoot.
Though every Shaft took place, he spent the Store 595
Of his full Quiver; and’ twas long before
Th’ expiring Serpent wallow’d in his Gore.
Then, to preserve the Fame of such a deed,
For Python slain, he Pythian Games decreed,
Where Noble Youths for Mastership shou’d strive, 600
To Quoit, to Run, and Steeds and Chariots drive.
The Prize was Fame: In witness of Renown,
An Oaken Garland did the Victor crown.
The Lawrel was not yet for Triumphs born,
But every Green, alike by Phæbus worn, 605
Did with promiscuous Grace, his flowing Locks adorn.
The Transformation of Daphne
into a Lawrel.
The first and fairest of his Loves was she,
Whom not blind Fortune, but the dire decree
Of angry Cupid forc’d him to desire:
Daphne her name, and Peneus was her Sire, 610
Swell’d with the Pride, that new Success attends,
He sees the Stripling, while his Bow he bends,
And thus insults him: Thou lascivious Boy,
Are Arms like these, for Children to employ?
Know, such atchivements are my proper claim: 615
Due to my vigour and unerring aim:
Resistless are my Shafts, and Python late,
In such a feather’d Death, has found his fate.
Take up thy Torch, (and lay my Weapons by;)
With that the feeble Souls of Lovers fry. 620
To whom the Son of Venus thus reply’d:
Phæbus, thy Shafts are sure on all beside;
But mine on Phœbus, mine the Fame shall be
Of all thy Conquests, when I conquer thee.
He said, and soaring swiftly wing’d his flight; 625
Nor stopt but on Parnassus airy height.
Two diff’rent Shafts he from his Quiver draws;
One to repel Desire, and one to cause.
One Shaft is pointed with refulgent Gold,
To bribe the Love, and make the Lover bold: 630
One blunt, and tipt with Lead, whose base Allay
Provokes disdain, and drives desire away.
The blunted bolt against the Nymph he drest:
But with the sharp, transfixt Apollo’s Breast.
Th’ enamour’d Deity pursues the Chace; 635
The scornful Damsel shuns his loath’d Embrace;
In hunting Beasts of Prey her Youth employs;
And Phœbe Rivals in her rural Joys.
With naked Neck she goes, and Shoulders bare,
And with a Fillet binds her flowing Hair. 640
By many Suitors sought, she mocks their pains,
And still her vow’d Virginity maintains.
Impatient of a Yoke, the name of Bride
She shuns, and hates the Joys she never try’d.
On Wilds and Woods she fixes her desire: 645
Nor knows what Youth and kindly Love inspire.
Her Father chides her oft: Thou ow’st, says he,
A Husband to thy self, a Son to me.
She, like a Crime, abhors the Nuptial Bed:
She glows with blushes, and she hangs her head. 650
Then, casting round his Neck her tender Arms,
Sooths him with blandishments, and filial Charms:
Give me, my Lord, she said, to live and die
A spotless Maid, without the Marriage tye.
’Tis but a small request; I beg no more 655
Than what Diana’s Father gave before.
The good old Sire was softn’d to consent;
But said her Wish wou’d prove her Punishment:
For so much Youth, and so much Beauty joyn’d,
Oppos’d the State, which her desires design’d. 660
The God of light, aspiring to her Bed,
Hopes what he seeks, with flattering Fancies fed:
And is, by his own Oracles mis-led.
And as in empty Fields, the Stubble burns,
Or nightly Travellers, when day returns, 665
Their useless Torches on dry Hedges throw,
That catch the Flames, and kindle all the row;
So burns the God, consuming in desire,
And feeding in his Breast a fruitless Fire:
Her well-turn’d Neck he view’d (her Neck was bare) 670
And on her Shoulders her dishevel’d Hair:
Oh were it c
omb’d, said he, with what a grace
Wou’d every waving Curl become her Face!
He view’d her eyes, like Heavenly Lamps that shone;
He view’d her Lips, too sweet to view alone, 675
Her taper Fingers, and her panting Breast;
He praises all he sees, and for the rest,
Believes the Beauties yet unseen are best:
Swift as the Wind, the Damsel fled away,
Nor did for these alluring Speeches stay: 680
Stay, Nymph, he cry’d, I follow not a Foe:
Thus from the Lyon trips the trembling Doe:
Thus from the Wolf the frightn’d Lamb removes,
And, from pursuing Faulcons, fearful Doves;
Thou shunn’st a God, and shunn’st a God that loves. 685
Ah lest some thorn shou’d pierce thy tender foot,
Or thou shou’d’st fall in flying my pursuit!
To sharp uneven ways thy steps decline;
Abate thy speed, and I will bate of mine.
Yet think from whom thou dost so rashly fly; 690
Nor basely born, nor Shepherd’s Swain am I.
Perhaps thou know’st not my Superior State;
And from that ignorance proceeds thy hate.
Me Claros, Delphos, Tenedos obey,
These Hands the Patareian Scepter sway. 695
The King of Gods begot me: What shall be,
Or is, or ever was, in Fate, I see.
Mine is th’ invention of the charming Lyre;
Sweet notes, and Heav’nly numbers I inspire.
Sure is my Bow, unerring is my Dart; 700
But ah more deadly his, who pierc’d my Heart.
Med’cine is mine, what Herbs and Simples grow
In Fields and Forrests, all their Pow’rs I know;
And am the great Physician call’d, below.
Alas that Fields and Forrests can afford 705
No Remedies to heal their Love-sick Lord!
To cure the pains of Love, no Plant avails;
And his own Physick the Physician fails.
She heard not half; so furiously she flies,
And on her Ear th’ imperfect accent dies. 710
Fear gave her Wings; and as she fled, the wind
Increasing spread her flowing Hair behind;
And left her Legs and Thighs expos’d to view;
Which made the God more eager to pursue.
The God was young, and was too hotly bent 715
To lose his time in empty Compliment:
But led by Love, and fir’d with such a sight,
Impetuously pursu’d his near delight.
As when th’ impatient Greyhound slipt from far,
Bounds o’re the Glebe, to course the fearful Hare, 720
She in her speed does all her safety lay;
And he with double speed pursues the Prey;
O’re-runs her at the sitting turn, and licks
His Chaps in vain, and blows upon the Flix,
She scapes, and for the neighb’ring Covert strives, 725
And gaining shelter, doubts if yet she lives:
If little things with great we may compare,
Such was the God, and such the flying Fair:
She urg’d by fear, her feet did swiftly move,
But he more swiftly, who was urg’d by Love. 730
He gathers ground upon her in the chace:
Now breaths upon her Hair, with nearer pace;
And just is fast’ning on the wish’d Embrace.
The Nymph grew pale, and in a mortal fright,
Spent with the Labour of so long a Flight; 735
And now despairing, cast a mournful look,
Upon the Streams of her Paternal Brook:
Oh help, she cry’d, in this extreamest need,
If Water Gods are Deities indeed:
Gape, Earth and this unhappy Wretch intomb: 740
Or change my form whence all my sorrows come.
Scarce had she finish’d, when her Feet she found
Benumm’d with cold, and fasten’d to the Ground:
A filmy rind about her Body grows,
Her Hair to Leaves, her Arms extend to Boughs: 745
The Nymph is all into a Lawrel gone,
The smoothness of her Skin remains alone.
Yet Phœbus loves her still, and, casting round
Her Bole, his Arms, some little warmth he found.
The Tree still panted in the unfinish’d part, 750
Not wholly vegetive, and heav’d her Heart.
He fix’d his Lips upon the trembling Rind;
It swerv’d aside, and his Embrace declin’d.
To whom the God: Because thou canst not be
My Mistress, I espouse thee for my Tree: 755
Be thou the prize of Honour and Renown;
The deathless Poet, and the Poem crown.
Thou shalt the Roman Festivals adorn,
And, after Poets, be by Victors worn.
Thou shalt returning Cæsar’s Triumph grace; 760
When Pomps shall in a long Procession pass:
Wreath’d on the Posts before his Palace wait;
And be the sacred Guardian of the Gate:
Secure from Thunder, and unharm’d by Jove,
Unfading as th’ immortal Pow’rs above: 765
And as the Locks of Phœbus are unshorn,
So shall perpetual green thy Boughs adorn.
The grateful Tree was pleas’d with what he sed,
And shook the shady Honours of her Head.
The Transformation of Io into
a Heyfar.
An ancient Forrest in Thessalia grows; 770
Which Tempe’s pleasing Valley does inclose:
Through this the rapid Peneus takes his course;
From Pindus rowling with impetuous force:
Mists from the Rivers mighty fall arise;
And deadly damps inclose the cloudy Skies: 775
Perpetual Fogs are hanging o’re the Wood;
And sounds of Waters deaf the Neighbourhood.
Deep, in a Rocky Cave, he makes abode:
(A Mansion proper for a mourning God.)
Here he gives Audience; issuing out Decrees 780
To Rivers, his dependant Deities.
On this occasion hither they resort,
To pay their homage, and to make their Court.
All doubtful, whether to congratulate
His Daughter’s Honour, or lament her Fate. 785
Sperchæus, crown’d with Poplar, first appears;
Then old Apidanus came crown’d with years:
Enipeus turbulent, Amphrisos tame;
And Æas, last with lagging Waters, came.
Then, of his Kindred Brooks a numerous throng 790
Condole his Loss, and bring their Urns along.
Not one was wanting of the watry Train,
That fill’d his Flood, or mingl’d with the Main:
But Inachus, who, in his Cave, alone,
Wept not another’s losses, but his own. 795
For his dear Io, whether stray’d, or dead,
To him uncertain, doubtful Tears he shed.
He sought her through the World, but sought in vain;
And, no where finding, rather fear’d her slain.
Her, just returning from her Father’s Brook, 800
Jove had beheld, with a desiring look;
And, Oh fair Daughter of the Flood, he sed,
Worthy alone of Jove’s Imperial Bed,
Happy, whoever shall those Charms possess;
The King of Gods, nor is thy Lover less, 805
Invites thee to yon cooler Shades; to shun
The scorching Rays of the Meridian Sun.
Nor shalt thou tempt the dangers of the Grove
Alone, without a Guide; thy Guide is Jove.
No puny Pow’r, but he whose high Command 810
Is unconfin’d, who rules the Sea and Land;
And te
mpers Thunder in his awful hand.
Oh fly not; (for she fled from his Embrace,)
O’er Lerna’s Pastures he pursu’d the Chace,
Along the Shades of the Lyrnæan Plain; 815
At length the God, who never asks in vain,
Involv’d with Vapours, imitating Night,
Both Air and Earth; and then suppress’d her flight,
And mingling force with Love, enjoy’d the full delight.
Mean time the Jealous Juno, from on high. 820
Survey’d the fruitful Fields of Arcady;
And wonder’d that the mist shou’d over-run
The face of Day-light, and obscure the Sun.
No Nat’ral cause she found, from Brooks, or Bogs,
Or marshy Lowlands, to produce the Fogs: 825
Then round the Skies she sought for Jupiter;
Her faithless Husband; but no Jove was there.
Suspecting now the worst, Or I, she said,
Am much mistaken, or am much betray’d.
With fury she precipitates her flight, 830
Dispels the shadows of dissembled Night,
And to the day restores his native light.
Th’ Almighty Leacher, careful to prevent
The consequence, foreseeing her descent
Transforms his Mistress in a trice; and now 835
In Io’s place appears a lovely Cow.
So slick her skin, so faultless was her make,
Ev’n Juno did unwilling pleasure take
To see so fair a Rival of her Love;
And what she was, and whence, enquir’d of Jove: 840
Of what fair Herd, and from what Pedigree?
The God, half caught, was forc’d upon a lye;
And said she sprung from Earth; she took the word,
And begg’d the beauteous Heyfar of her Lord.
What should he do? ’twas equal shame to Jove 845
Or to relinquish, or betray his Love:
Yet to refuse so slight a Gift, wou’d be
But more t’ increase his Consort’s Jealousie:
Thus fear, and love, by turns his heart assail’d;
And stronger love had sure at length prevail’d, 850
But some faint hope remain’d, his jealous Queen
Had not the Mistress through the Heyfar seen.
The cautions Goddess, of her Gift possest,
Yet harbour’d anxious thoughts within her breast;
As she who knew the falshood of her Jove, 855
And justly fear’d some new relapse of Love
Which to prevent, and to secure her care,
To trusty Argus she commits the Fair.
The head of Argus (as with Stars the Skies)
Was compass’d round, and wore an hundred eyes. 860
But two by turns their Lids in Slumber steep;
The rest on duty still their station keep;
Nor cou’d the total Constellation sleep.
Thus, ever present, to his eyes and mind,