The tempest unforeseen prevents their care,
And from the first they labour in despair.
The giddy ship betwixt the winds and tides,
Forc'd back and forwards, in a circle rides,
Stunn'd with the different blows; then shoots
amain,

Till counterbuff'd, she stops, and sleeps again.
Not more aghast the proud archangel fell,
Plung'd from the height of heaven to deepest
hell,

Than stood the lover of his love possess'd, Now curs'd the more, the more he had been bless'd;

More anxious for her danger than his own,
Death he defies; but would be lost alone.

Sad Iphigene to womanish complaints
Adds pious prayers, and wearies all the saints;
E'en if she could, her love she would repent,
But since she cannot, dreads the punishment:
Her forfeit faith, and Pasimond betray'd,
Are ever present, and her crime upbraid.
She blames herself, nor blames her lover less,
Augments her anger, as her fears increase:
From her own back the burden would remove,
And lays the load on his ungovern'd love,
Which interposing, durst, in heaven's despite,
Invade, and violate another's right:
The powers incens'd a while deferr'd his pain,
And made him master of his vows in vain:
But soon they punish'd his presumptuous pride;
That for his daring enterprise she died;
Who rather not resisted, than complied.
Then impotent of mind, with alter'd sense,
She hugg'd the offender, and forgave the offence,
Sex to the last: meantime with sails declin'd
The wand'ring vessel drove before the wind;
Toss'd and retoss'd, aloft, and then alow,
Nor port they seek, nor certain course they
know,

But every moment wait the coming blow. Thus blindly driven, by breaking day they view'd

The land before them, and their fears renew'd; The land was welcome, but the tempest bore The threaten'd ship against a rocky shore.

A winding bay was near; to this they bent: And just escap'd; their force already spent. Secure from storms, and panting from the sea, The land unknown at leisure they survey; And saw (but soon their sickly sight withdrew) The rising towers of Rhodes at distant view; And curs'd the hostile shore of Pasimond, Sav'd from the seas, and shipwreck'd on the ground. [vain, The frighted sailors tried their strength in To turn the stern, and tempt the stormy main; But the stiff wind withstood the labouring oar,

And forc'd them forward on the fatal shore
The crooked keel now bites the Rhodian strand,
And the ship moor'd constrains the crew to
land:

Yet still they might be safe, because unknown,
But as ill fortune seldom comes alone,
The vessel they dismiss'd was driven before,
Already shelter'd on their native shore:
Known each, they know; but each with change
of cheer;

The vanquish'd side exults; the victors fear; Not them but theirs, made prisoners ere they fight,

Despairing conquest, and depriv'd of flight.

The country rings around with loud alarms, And raw in fields the rude militia swarms; Mouths without hands; maintain'd at vast

And ever, but in times of need, at hand; This was the morn, when, issuing on the guard, Drawn up in rank and file they stood prepar'd Of seeming arms to make a short essay, Then hasten to be drunk, the business of the day. [knew

The cowards would have fled, but that they Themselves so many, and their foes so few; But crowding on, the last the first impel: Till overborne with weight the Cyprians fell. Cymon enslav'd, who first the war begun, And Iphigene once more is lost and won.

Deep in a dungeon was the captive cast Depriv'd of day, and held in fetters fast: His life was only spar'd at their request, Whom taken he so nobly had releas'd: But Iphigenia was the ladies' care, Each in their turn address'd to treat the fair: While Pasimond and his the nuptial feast pre

pare.

Her secret soul to Cymon was inclin'd,
But she must suffer what her fates assign'd;
So passive is the church of womankind.
What worse to Cymon could his fortune deal,
Roll'd to the lowest spoke of all her wheel?
It rested to dismiss the downward weight,
Or raise him upward to his former height;
The latter pleas'd; and love (concern'd the
most)

Prepar'd the amends, for what by love he lost.
The sire of Pasimond had left a son,
Though younger, yet for courage early known,
Ormisda call'd, to whom by promise tied,
A

Rhodian beauty was the destin'd bride; Cassandra was her name, above the rest Renown'd for birth, with fortune amply bless'd.

Lysimachus, who rul'd the Rhodian state,
Was then by choice their annual magistrate:
He lov'd Cassandra too with equal fire,
But fortune had not favour'd his desire;
Cross'd by her friends, by her not disapprov'd,
Nor yet preferr'd, or like Ormisda lov'd:
So stood the affair: some little hope remain'd,
That should his rival chance to lose, he gain'd.
Meantime young Pasimond his marriage
press'd,

Ordain'd the nuptial day, prepar'd the feast;
And frugally resolv'd (the charge to shun,
Which would be double should he wed alone)
To join his brother's bridal with his own.

Lysimachus, oppress'd with mortal grief, Receiv'd the news, and studied quick relief: The fatal day approach'd; if force were us'd The magistrate his public trust abus'd; To justice liable, as law requir'd

For when his office ceas'd, his power expir'd: While power remain'd, the means were in his hand

By force to seize, and then forsake the land:
Betwixt extremes he knew not how to move,
A slave to fame, but more a slave to love:
Restraining others, yet himself not free,
Made impotent by power, debas'd by dignity.
Both sides he weigh'd, but after much debate,
The man prevail'd above the magistrate.

Love never fails to master what he finds,
But works a different way in different minds,
The fool enlightens, and the wise he blinds.
This youth proposing to possess and scape,
Began in murder, to conclude in rape : [bless
Unprais'd by me, though heaven some times may
An impious act with undeserv'd success;
The great it seems are privileg'd alone
To punish all injustice but their own.
But here I stop, not daring to proceed,
Yet blush to flatter an unrighteous deed:
For crimes are but permitted, not decreed.

Resolv'd on force, his wit the prætor bent To find the means that might secure the event; Nor long he labour'd, for his lucky thought In captive Cymon found the friend he sought. The example pleas'd: the cause and crime the

same;

An injur'd lover, and a ravish'd dame.
How much he durst he knew by what he dar'd,
The less he had to lose, the less he car'd
To manage loathsome life when love was the
reward.

This ponder'd well, and fix'd on his intent,
In depth of night he for the prisoner sent:
In secret sent, the public view to shun,
Then with a sober smile he thus begun :
The powers above, who bounteously bestow
Their gifts and graces on mankind below,

Yet prove our merit first, nor blindly give
To such as are not worthy to receive;
For valour and for virtue they provide
Their due reward, but first they must be tried;
These fruitful seeds within your mind they
sow'd;

'T was yours to improve the talent they be stow'd:

They gave you to be born of noble kind,
They gave you love to lighten up your mind,
And purge the grosser parts; they gave you care
To please, and courage to deserve the fair.
Thus far they tried you, and by proof they

found

The grain intrusted in a grateful ground:
But still to great experiment remain'd,
They suffer'd you to lose the prize you gain'd:
That you might learn the gift was theirs alone:
And when restor'd, to them the blessing own.
Restor'd it soon will be; the means prepar'd
The difficulty smooth'd, the danger shar'd;
Be but yourself, the care to me resign,
Then Iphigene is yours, Cassandra mine.
Your rival Pasimond pursues your life,
Impatient to revenge his ravish'd wife,
But yet not his; to-morrow is behind,
And love our fortunes in one band has join'd;
Two brothers are our foes, Ormisda mine,
As much declar'd as Pasimond is thine;
To-morrow must their common vows be tied;
With love to friend, and fortune for our guide,
Let both resolve to die, or each redeem a bride.
Right I have none, nor hast thou much to

plead;

'T is force, when done, must justify the deed:
Our task perform'd, we next prepare for flight:
And let the losers talk in vain of right:
We with the fair will sail before the wind,
If they are griev'd, I leave the laws behind.
Speak thy resolves: if now thy courage droop,
Despair in prison, and abandon hope;
But if thou dar'st in arms thy love regain,
(For liberty without thy love were vain ;)
Then second my design to seize the prey,
Or lead to second rape, for well thou know'st
the way.

Said Cymon overjoy'd, Do thou propose
The means to fight, and only show the foes
For from the first, when love had fir'd my mind,
Resolv'd I left the care of life behind.

To this the bold Lysimachus replied, Let heaven be neuter, and the sword decide; The spousals are prepar'd, already play The minstrels, and provoke the tardy day : By this the brides are wak'd, their grooms are

dress'd;

All Rhodes is summon'd to the nuptial feast, All but myself, the sole unbidden guest.

Unbidden though I am, I will be there,

And join'd by thee intend to joy the fair.

The troop retires, the lovers close the rear, With forward faces not confessing fear:

light,

And cheerful torches gild the jolly night,
Be ready at my call; my chosen few
With arms administer'd shall aid thy crew.
Then ent'ring, unexpected will we seize
Our destin'd prey, from men dissolv'd in ease;
By wine disabled, unprepar'd for fight:
And hastening to the seas, suborn our flight:
The seas are ours, for I command the fort,
A ship well mann'd expects us in the port:
If they, or if their friends, the prize contest,
Death shall attend the man who dares resist,
It pleas'd: the prisoner to his hold retir'd,
His troop with equal emulation fir'd,
All fix'd to fight, and all their wonted work
requir'd.
[around,
The sun arose; the streets were throng'd
The palace open'd, and the posts were crown'd.
The double bridegroom at the door attends
The expected spouse, and entertains the
friends;

They meet, they lead to church, the priests invoke

The powers, and feed the flames with fragrant smoke.

This done, they feast, and at the close of night
By kindled torches vary their delight,
These lead the lively dance, and those the brim-
ming bowls invite.
[sign'd,
Now, at the appointed place and hour as-
With souls resolv'd the ravishers were join'd:
Three bands are form'd; the first is sent before
To favour the retreat, and guard the shore;
The second at the palace-gate is plac'd,
And up the lofty stairs ascend the last :
A peaceful troop they seem, with shining vests
But coats of mail beneath secure their breasts.
Dauntless they enter, Cymon at their head,
And find the feast renew'd, the table spread :
Sweet voices, mix'd with instrumental sounds,
Ascend the vaulted roof, the vaulted roof re-
bounds.

When, like the harpies, rushing though the hall
The sudden troop appears, the tables fall,
Their smoking load is on the pavement thrown ;
Each ravisher prepares to seize his own:
The brides, invaded with a rude embrace,
Shriek out for aid, confusion fills the place.
Quick to redeem the prey, their plighted lords
Advance,the palace gleams with shining swords.
But late is all defence, and succour vain;
The rape is made, the ravishers remain :
Two sturdy slaves were only sent before
To bear the purchas'd prize in safety to the
shore.

mend;

Then seek the stairs, and with slow haste descend.

Fierce Pasimond, their passage to prevent, Thrust full on Cymon's back in his descent, The blade return'd unbath'd, and to the hand.e bent.

Stout Cymon soon remounts, and cleft in two His rival's head with one descending blow: And as the next in rank Ormisda stood,

He turn'd the point; the sword inur'd to blood, Bor'd his unguarded breast, which pour'd a purple flood

With vow'd revenge the gathering crowd pur

sues,

The ravishers turn head, the fight renews;
The hall is heap'd with corpse; the sprinkled

gore

Besmears the walls, and floats the marble floor. Dispers'd at length the drunken squadron flies, The victors to their vessel bear the prize; And hear behind loud groans, and lamentable cries.

The crew with merry shouts their anchors weigh,

Then ply their oars, and brush the buxom sea, While troops of gather'd Rhodians crowd the key.

What should the people do when left alone?
The governor and government are gone.
The public wealth to foreign parts convey'd ;
Some troops disbanded and the rest unpaid.
Rhodes is the sovereign of the sea no more;
Their ships unrigg'd, and spent their naval

store:

They neither could defend, nor can pursue,
But grinn'd their teeth, and cast a helpless view:
In vain with darts a distant war they try,
Short, and more short, the missive weapons fly.
Meanwhile the ravishers their crimes enjoy,
And flying sails and sweeping oars employ:
The cliffs of Rhodes in little space are lost,
Jove's isle they seek, nor Jove denies his coast.
In safety landed on the Candian shore,
With generous wines their spirits they restore:
There Cymon with his Rhodian friend resides,
Both court, and wed at once the willing brides.
A war ensues, the Cretans own their cause,
Stiff to defend their hospitable laws:
Both parties lose by turns; and neither wins,
Till peace propounded by a truce begins.
The kindred of the slain forgive the deed,
But a short exile must for show precede:
The term expir'd, from Candia they remove,
And happy each, at home, enjoys his love,

TRANSLATIONS FROM OVID'S

METAMORPHOSES.

TO THE

RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD RADCLIFFE.*

MY LORD, THESE Miscellany Poems are by many titles yours. The first they claim from your acceptance of my promise to present them to you, before some of them were yet in being. The rest are derived from your own merit, the exactness of your judgment in poetry, and the candour of your nature; easy to forgive some trivial faults, when they come accompanied with countervailing beauties. But, after all, though these are your equitable claims to a dedication from other poets, yet I must acknowledge a bribe in the case, which is your particular liking of my verses. It is a vanity common to all writers, to overvalue their own productions; and it is better for me to own this failing in myself, than the world to do it for me. For what other reason have I spent my life in so unprofitable a study? why am I grown old, in seeking so barren a reward as fame? The same parts and application, which have made me a poet, might have raised me to any honours of the gown, which are often given to men of as little learning and less honesty than myself. No government has ever been, or ever can be, wherein time-servers and blockheads will not be uppermost. The persons are only changed, but the same jugglings in state, the same hypocrisy in religion, the same self-interest, and mismanagement, will remain for ever. Blood and money will be lavished in all ages, only for the preferment of new faces, with old consciences. There is too often a jaundice in the eyes of great men; they see not those whom they raise in the same colours with other men. All whom they affect, look gol den to them; when the gilding is only in their own distempered sight. These considerations have given me a kind of contempt for those who have risen by unworthy ways. I am not ashamed to be little, when I see them so infamously great; neither do I know why the name of poet should be dishonourable to me, if I am truly one, as I hope I am; for I will never do any thing that shall dishonour it. The notions of morality are known to all men; none can pretend ignorance of those ideas which are in-born in mankind:

Prefixed to the Third Volume of Dryden's Mis

cellany Poems, printed in 1893.

and if I see one thing, and practise the contrary, I must be disingenuous, not to acknowledge a clear truth, and base, to act against the light of my own conscience. For the reputation of my honesty, no man can question it, who has any of his own: for that of my poetry, it shall either stand by its own merit, or fall for want of it. Ill writers are usually the sharpest censors; for they, (as the best poet and the best patron said,)

When in the full perfection of decay, Turn vinegar, and come again in play. Thus the corruption of a poet is the generation of a critic: I mean of a critic in the general acceptation of this age; for formerly they were quite another species of men. They were defenders of poets, and commentators on their works; to illustrate obscure beauties; to place some passages in a better light; to redeem others from malicious interpretations; to help out an author's modesty, who is not ostentatious of his wit; and, in short, to shield him from the ill-nature of those fellows, who were then called Zoili and Momi, and now take upon themselves the venerable name of censors. But neither Zoilus, nor he who endeavoured to defame Virgil, were ever adopted into the name of critics by the ancients: what their reputation was then, we know; and their successors in this age deserve no better. Are our auxiliary forces turned our enemies? are they, who at best are but wits of the second order, and whose only credit among readers is what they obtained by being subservient to the fame of writers; are these become rebels of slaves, and usurpers of subjects ? or, to speak in the most honourable terms of them, are they from our seconds become principals against us? Does the ivy undermine the oak, which supports its weakness? What labour would it cost them to put in a better line, than the worst of those which they expunge in a true poet? Petronius, the greatest wit perhaps of all the Romans, yet when his envy prevailed upon his judgment to fall on Lucan, he fell himself in his attempt: he performed worse in his Essay of the Civil War, than the author of the Pharsalia; and avoiding his errors, has made greater of his own. Julius Scaliger would needs turn down Homer, and abdicate him after the possession of three thousand years: has he succeeded in his attempt ? he has indeed shown us some of those imperfections in him, which are incident to human kind; but who had not rather be that Homer than this Scaliger? You see the same hypercritic, when he endeavours to mend the beginning of Claudian (a faulty poet, and living in a