by John Dryden
If Fate has fix’d thee obstinate to sail,
Go not without thy Wife, but let me bear
My part of Danger with an equal share, 50
And present, what I suffer only fear:
Then o’er the bounding Billows shall we fly,
Secure to live together, or to die.
These Reasons mov’d her starlike Husband’s Heart,
But still he held his Purpose to depart: 55
For as he lov’d her equal to his Life,
He wou’d not to the Seas expose his Wife;
Nor cou’d be wrought his Voyage to refrain,
But sought by Arguments to sooth her Pain;
Nor these avail’d; at length he lights on one, 60
With which, so difficult a Cause he won:
My Love, so short an absence cease to fear,
For, by my Father’s holy Flame, I swear,
Before two Moons their Orb with Light adorn,
If Heav’n allow me Life, I will return. 65
This Promise of so short a stay prevails:
He soon equips the Ship, supplies the Sails,
And gives the Word to launch; she trembling views
This pomp of Death, and parting Tears renews:
Last, with a Kiss, she took a long farewel, 70
Sigh’d, with a sad Presage, and swooning fell.
While Ceyx seeks Delays, the lusty Crew,
Rais’d on their Banks, their Oars in order drew
To their broad Breasts, the Ship with fury flew.
The Queen recover’d rears her humid Eyes, 75
And first her Husband on the Poop espies
Shaking his Hand at distance on the Main;
She took the Sign; and shook her Hand again.
Still as the Ground recedes, contracts her View
With sharpen’d Sight, till she no longer knew 80
The much-lov’d Face; that Comfort lost supplies
With less, and with the Galley feeds her Eyes;
The Galley born from view by rising Gales,
She follow’d with her Sight the flying Sails:
When ev’n the flying Sails were seen no more, 85
Forsaken of all Sight, she left the Shoar.
Then on her Bridal-Bed her Body throws,
And sought in Sleep her weary’d Eyes to close.
Her Husband’s Pillow, and the Widow’d part
Which once he press’d, renew’d the former Smart. 90
And now a Breeze from Shoar began to blow,
The Sailors ship their Oars, and cease to row;
Then hoist their Yards a-trip, and all their Sails
Let fall, to court the Wind, and catch the Gales:
By this the Vessel half her Course had run, 95
And as much rested till the rising Sun;
Both Shores were lost to Sight, when at the close
Of Day, a stiffer Gale at East arose:
The Sea grew White, the rowling Waves from far
Like Heralds first denounce the Watry War. 100
This seen, the Master soon began to cry,
Strike, strike the Top-sail; let the Main-sheet fly,
And furl your Sails: The Winds repel the sound
And in the Speaker’s Mouth the Speech is drown’d.
Yet of their own accord, as Danger taught, 105
Each in his way, officiously they wrought;
Some stow their Oars, or stop the leaky Sides,
Another bolder yet the Yard bestrides,
And folds the Sails; a fourth with Labour, laves
Th’ intruding Seas, and Waves ejects on Waves. 110
In this Confusion while their Work they ply,
The Winds augment the Winter of the Sky,
And wage intestine Wars; the suff’ring Seas
Are toss’d, and mingled as their Tyrants please.
The Master wou’d command, but in despair 115
Of Safety, stands amaz’d with stupid Care,
Nor what to bid, or what forbid he knows,
Th’ ungovern’d Tempest to such Fury grows:
Vain is his Force, and vainer is his Skill;
With such a Concourse comes the Flood of Ill: 120
The Cries of Men are mix’d with rattling Shrowds;
Seas dash on Seas, and Clouds encounter Clouds:
At once from East to West, from Pole to Pole,
The forky Lightnings flash, the roaring Thunders roul.
Now Waves on Waves ascending scale the Skies, 125
And in the Fires above, the Water fries:
When yellow Sands are sifted from below,
The glitt’ring Billows give a golden Show:
And when the fouler bottom spews the Black,
The Stygian Dye the tainted Waters take: 130
Then frothy White appear the flatted Seas,
And change their Colour, changing their Disease.
Like various Fits the Trachin Vessel finds,
And now sublime, she rides upon the Winds;
As from a lofty Summet looks from high, 135
And from the Clouds beholds the neather Sky;
Now from the depth of Hell they lift their Sight,
And at a distance see superiour Light:
The lashing Billows make a loud report,
And beat her Sides, as batt’ring Rams, a Fort: 140
Or as a Lyon, bounding in his way,
With Force augmented bears against his Prey,
Sidelong to seize; or unappal’d with Fear
Springs on the Toils, and rushes on the Spear:
So Seas impell’d by Winds with added Pow’r 145
Assault the Sides, and o’er the Hatches tow’r.
The Planks (their pitchy Cov’ring wash’d away)
Now yield; and now a yawning Breach display:
The roaring Waters with a hostile Tide
Rush through the Ruins of her gaping Side. 150
Mean time in Sheets of Rain the Sky descends,
And Ocean swell’d with Waters upwards tends,
One rising, falling one, the Heav’ns, and Sea
Meet at their Confines, in the middle Way:
The Sails are drunk with Show’rs, and drop with Rain, 155
Sweet Waters mingle with the briny Main.
No Star appears to lend his friendly Light:
Darkness and Tempest make a double Night.
But flashing Fires disclose the Deep by turns,
And while the Light’nings blaze, the Water burns. 160
Now all the Waves their scatter’d Force unite,
And as a Soldier, foremost in the Fight,
Makes way for others: And an Host alone,
Still presses on, and urging gains the Town;
So while th’ invading Billows come a-brest, 165
The Hero tenth advanc’d before the rest,
Sweeps all before him with impetuous Sway,
And from the Walls descends upon the Prey;
Part following enter, part remain without,
With Envy hear their Fellows conqu’ring Shout, 170
And mount on others Backs, in Hope to share
The City, thus become the Seat of War.
An universal Cry resounds aloud,
The Sailors run in Heaps, a helpless Crowd;
Art fails, and Courage falls, no Succour near; 175
As many Waves, as many Deaths appear.
One weeps, and yet despairs of late Relief;
One cannot weep, his Fears congeal his Grief,
But stupid, with dry Eyes expects his Fate.
One with loud Shrieks laments his lost Estate, 180
And calls those happy whom their Funerals wait.
This Wretch with Pray’rs and Vows the Gods implores,
And ev’n the Sky’s he cannot see, adores.
That other on his Friends his Thoughts bestows,
His careful Father, and his faithful Spouse. 185
The covetous Worlding in his anxi
ous Mind
Thinks only on the Wealth he left behind.
All Ceyx his Alcyone employs,
For her he grieves, yet in her absence joys:
His Wife he wishes, and wou’d still be near, 190
Not her with him, but wishes him with her:
Now with last Looks he seeks his Native Shoar,
Which Fate has destin’d him to see no more:
He sought, but in the dark tempestuous Night
He knew not whither to direct his Sight. 195
So whirl the Seas, such Darkness blinds the Sky,
That the black Night receives a deeper Dye.
The giddy Ship ran round; the Tempest tore
Her Mast, and over-board the Rudder bore
One Billow mounts; and with a scornful Brow 200
Proud of her Conquest gain’d insults the Waves below;
Nor lighter falls, than if some Gyant tore
Pindus and Athos, with the Freight they bore,
And toss’d on Seas: press’d with the pondrous Blow
Down sinks the Ship within th’ Abyss below 205
Down with the Vessel sink into the Main
The many, never more to rise again.
Some few on scatter’d Planks with fruitless Care
Lay hold, and swim, but while they swim, despair.
Ev’n he who late a Scepter did command 210
Now grasps a floating Fragment in his Hand,
And while he struggles on the stormy Main,
Invokes his Father, and his Wife’s, in vain;
But yet his Consort is his greater Care;
Alcyone he names amidst his Pray’r, 215
Names as a Charm against the Waves, and Wind;
Most in his Mouth, and ever in his Mind:
Tir’d with his Toyl, all hopes of Safety past,
From Pray’rs to Wishes he descends at last:
That his dead Body, wafted to the Sands, 220
Might have its Burial from her Friendly Hands.
As oft as he can catch a gulp of Air,
And peep above the Seas, he names the Fair;
And ev’n when plung’d beneath, on her he raves,
Murm’ring Alcyone below the Waves: 225
At last a falling Billow stops his Breath,
Breaks o’er his Head, and whelms him underneath.
Bright Lucifer unlike himself appears
That Night, his heav’nly Form obscur’d with Tears,
And since he was forbid to leave the Skies, 230
He muffled with a Cloud his mournful Eyes.
Mean time Alcyone (his Fate unknown)
Computes how many Nights he had been gone,
Observes the waning Moon with hourly View,
Numbers her Age, and wishes for a new; 235
Against the promis’d Time provides with care,
And hastens in the Woof the Robes he was to wear:
And for her Self employs another Loom,
New-dress’d to meet her Lord returning home,
Flatt’ring her Heart with Joys that never were to come: 240
She fum’d the Temples with an odrous Flame,
And oft before the sacred Altars came,
To pray for him, who was an empty Name.
All Pow’rs implor’d, but far above the rest
To Juno she her pious Vows address’d, 245
Her much-lov’d Lord from Perils to protect
And safe o’er Seas his Voyage to direct:
Then pray’d that she might still possess his Heart,
And no pretending Rival share a part;
This last Petition heard of all her Pray’r, 250
The rest dispers’d by Winds were lost in Air.
But she, the Goddess of the Nuptial-Bed,
Tir’d with her vain Devotions for the Dead,
Resolv’d the tainted Hand should be repell’d,
Which Incense offer’d, and her Altar held: 255
Then Iris thus bespoke: Thou faithful Maid,
By whom thy Queen’s Commands are well convey’d,
Haste to the House of Sleep, and bid the God
Who rules the Night by Visions with a Nod,
Prepare a Dream, in Figure and in Form 260
Resembling him who perish’d in the Storm:
This form before Alcyone present,
To make her certain of the sad Event.
Indu’d with Robes of various Hew she flies,
And flying draws an Arch, (a segment of the Skies:) 265
Then leaves her bending Bow, and from the Steep
Descends to search the silent House of Sleep.
Near the Cymmerians, in his dark Abode
Deep in a Cavern, dwells the drowzy God;
Whose gloomy Mansion nor the rising Sun 270
Nor setting, visits, nor the lightsome Noon:
But lazy Vapors round the Region fly,
Perpetual Twilight, and a doubtful Sky;
No crowing Cock does there his Wings display,
Nor with his horny Bill provoke the Day: 275
Nor watchful Dogs, nor the more wakeful Geese,
Disturb with nightly Noise the sacred Peace:
Nor Beast of Nature, nor the Tame are nigh,
Nor Trees with Tempests rock’d, nor human Cry;
But safe Repose without an Air of Breath 280
Dwells here, and a dumb Quiet next to Death.
An Arm of Lethe with a gentle Flow
Arising upwards from the Rock below,
The Palace moats, and o’er the Pebbles creeps,
And with soft Murmers calls the coming Sleeps; 285
Around its Entry nodding Poppies grow,
And all cool Simples that sweet Rest bestow;
Night from the Plants their sleepy Virtue drains,
And passing, sheds it on the silent Plains:
No Door there was th’ unguarded House to keep, 290
On creaking Hinges turn’d, to break his Sleep.
But in the gloomy Court was rais’d a Bed,
Stuff’d with black Plumes, and on an Ebonsted:
Black was the Cov’ring too, where lay the God
And slept supine, his Limbs display’d abroad: 295
About his Head fantastick Visions fly,
Which various Images of Things supply,
And mock their Forms, the Leaves on Trees not more,
Nor bearded Ears in Fields, nor Sands upon the Shore.
The Virgin entring bright indulg’d the Day 300
To the brown Cave, and brush’d the Dreams away:
The God disturb’d with this new Glare of Light
Cast sudden on his Face, unseal’d his Sight,
And rais’d his tardy Head, which sunk agen,
And sinking on his Bosom knock’d his Chin: 305
At length shook off himself; and ask’d the Dame,
(And asking yawn’d) for what intent she came?
To whom the Goddess thus: O sacred Rest,
Sweet pleasing Sleep, of all the Pow’rs the best!
O Peace of Mind, repairer of Decay, 310
Whose Balms renew the Limbs to Labours of the Day,
Care shuns thy soft approach, and sullen flies away!
Adorn a Dream, expressing human Form,
The Shape of him who suffer’d in the Storm,
And send it flitting to the Trachin Court, 315
The Wreck of wretched Ceyx to report:
Before his Queen bid the pale Spectre stand,
Who begs a vain Relief at Juno’s Hand.
She said, and scarce awake her Eyes cou’d keep,
Unable to support the Fumes of Sleep: 320
But fled returning by the way she went,
And swerv’d along her Bow with swift ascent.
The God uneasy till he slept again
Resolv’d at once to rid himself of Pain;
And tho’ against his Custom, call’d aloud, 325
Exciting Morpheus from the sleepy
Crowd:
Morpheus of all his numerous Train express’d
The Shape of Man, and imitated best;
The Walk, the Words, the Gesture cou’d supply,
The Habit mimick, and the Mien bely; 330
Plays well, but all his Action is confin’d;
Extending not beyond our human kind.
Another Birds, and Beasts, and Dragons apes,
And dreadful Images, and Monster shapes:
This Demon, Icelos, in Heav’ns high Hall 335
The Gods have nam’d; but men Phobetor call:
A third is Phantasus, whose Actions roul
On meaner Thoughts, and Things devoid of Soul;
Earth, Fruits and Flow’rs, he represents in Dreams,
And solid Rocks unmov’d, and running Streams: 340
These three to Kings, and Chiefs their Scenes display,
The rest before th’ ignoble Commons play:
Of these the chosen Morpheus is dispatch’d,
Which done, the lazy Monarch overwatch’d,
Down from his propping Elbow drops his Head, 345
Dissolv’d in Sleep, and shrinks within his Bed.
Darkling the Demon glides for Flight prepar’d,
So soft that scarce his fanning Wings are heard.
To Trachin, swift as Thought, the flitting Shade
Through Air his momentary Journey made: 350
Then lays aside the steerage of his Wings,
Forsakes his proper Form, assumes the King’s;
And pale as Death despoil’d of his Array
Into the Queen’s Apartment takes his way,
And stands before the Bed at dawn of Day: 355
Unmov’d his Eyes, and wet his Beard appears;
And shedding vain, but seeming real Tears;
The briny Water dropping from his Hairs;
Then staring on her, with a ghastly Look
And hollow Voice, he thus the Queen bespoke. 360
Know’st thou not me? Not yet unhappy Wife?
Or are my Features perish’d with my Life?
Look once again, and for thy Husband lost,
Lo all that’s left of him, thy Husband’s Ghost!
Thy Vows for my return were all in vain; 365
The stormy South o’ertook us in the Main;
And never shalt thou see thy living Lord again.
Bear witness Heav’n I call’d on thee in Death,
And while I call’d, a Billow stop’d my Breath:
Think not that flying Fame reports my Fate; 370
I present, I appear, and my own Wreck relate.
Rise wretched Widow, rise, nor undeplor’d
Permit my Ghost to pass the Stygian Ford:
But rise, prepar’d, in Black, to mourn thy perish’d Lord.
Thus said the Player-God; and adding Art 375
Of Voice and Gesture, so perform’d his part,