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Soon, in a length of face, our head extends;
Our chin ftiff bristles bears, and forward bends.
A breadth of brawn new burnishes our neck ;
Anon we grunt, as we begin to fpeak.
Alone Eurylochus refus'd to taste,

Nor to a beast obscene the man debas'd.
Hither Ulyffes haftes (fo Fates command)
And bears the powerful Moly in his hand;
Unfheaths his fcymitar, affaults the dame,
Preferves his fpecies, and remains the fame.
The nuptial right this outrage ftraight attends;
The dower defir'd is his transfigur'd friends.
The incantation backwards the repeats,
Inverts her rod, and what fhe did defeats,

And now our skin grows smooth, our shape upright; Our arms ftretch up, our cloven feet unite. With tears our weeping general we embrace Hang on his neck, and melt upon his face

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Twelve filver moons in Circe's court we stay,
Whilft there they waste th' unwilling hours away.
'Twas here I fpy'd a youth in Parian stone ;
His head a pecker bore; the cause unknown
To passengers. A Nymph of Circe's train
The mystery thus attempted to explain.

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Picus who once th' Aufonian fceptre held,
Could rein the fteed, and fit him for the field:
So like he was to what you fee, that still
We doubt if real, or the sculptor's skill.
The Graces in the finish'd piece, you find,
Are but the copy of his fairer mind.

Four luftres fcarce the royal youth could name,
Till every love-fick nymph confess’d a flame.
Oft' for his love the mountain Dryads fued,
And every filver fifter of the flood:

Those of Numicus, Albula, and those

Where Almo creeps, and hafty Nar o'erflows :
Where fedgy Anio glides through fmiling meads,
Where fhady Farfar ruftles in the reeds:

And those that love the lakes, and homage owe
To the chafte Goddefs of the filver bow.

In vain each nymph her brightest charms put on,
His heart no fovereign would obcy but one :
She whom Venilia, on Mount Palatine,
To Janus bore the fairest of her line.
Nor did her face alone her charms confefs,
Her voice was ravishing, and pleas'd no less.
Whene'er the fung, so melting were her strains,
The flocks-unfed feem'd listening on the plains;


The rivers would ftand ftill, the cedars bend;
And birds neglect their pinions to attend;
The favage kind in foreft-wilds grow tame;
And Canens, from her heavenly voice, her name..
Hymen had now in fome ill-fated hour

Their hands united, as their hearts before.
Whilft their foft moments in delights they wafte,
And each new day was dearer than the past;
Picus would fometimes o'er the forefts rove,
And mingle sports with intervals of love.
It chanc'd, as once the foaming boar he chac'd,
His jewels sparkling on his Tyrian vest,
Lafcivious Circe well the youth furvey'd,
As fimpling on the flowery hills the stray'd.
Her wishing eyes their filent meffage tell,
And from her lap the verdant mifchief fell.
As fhe attempts at words, his courfer springs
O'er hills, and lawns, and ev'n a wish outwings.
Thou shalt not 'fcape me fo, pronounc'd the dame,
If plants have power, and spells be not a name.
She faid-and forthwith form'd a boar of air,
That fought the covert with diffembled fear.
Swift to the thicket Picus wings his way
On foot, to chace the vifionary prey.

Now the invokes the daughters of the night,
Does noxious juices fmear, and charms recite;
Such as can veil the moon's more feeble fire,
Or fhade the golden luftre of her fire.
In filthy fogs fhe hides the chearful noon;
The guard at diftance, and the youth alone :

By thofe fair eyes, the cries, and every grace
That finish all the wonders of

your face,
Oh! I conjure thee, hear a queen complain;
Nor let the fun's soft lineage fue in vain.

Whoe'er thou art, reply'd the king, forbear,
None can my paffion with my Canens fhare.
She firft my every tender wish possest,
And found the foft approaches to my breaft.
In nuptials bleft, each loose defire we fhun,
Nor time can end what innocence begun.

Think not, the cry'd, to faunter out a life
Of form, with that domeftic drudge a wife;
My juft revenge, dull fool, ere long, fhall fhow
What ills we women, if refus'd, can do:
Think me a woman, and a lover too.
From dear fuccefsful fpite we hope for cafe,
Nor fail to punish, where we fail to please.

Now twice to eat the turns, as oft' to weft;
Thrice waves her wand, as oft' a charm exprest.
On the loft youth her magic power she tries ;
Aloft he fprings, and wonders how he flies.
On painted plumes the woods he seeks, and still
The monarch oak he pierces with his bill.
Thus chang'd, no more o'er Latian lands he reigns;
Of Picus nothing but the name remains.

The winds from drizling damps now purge the air, The mifts fubfide, the fettling fkies are fair: The court their fovereign feek with arms in hand, They threaten Circe, and their Lord demand.


Quick the invokes the spirits of the air,

And twilight elves, that on dun wings repair
To charnels, and th' unhallow'd fepulchre.

Now, ftrange to tell, the plants fweat drops of blood,
The trees are tofs'd from forefts where they flood;
Blue ferpents o'er the tainted herbage flide,

Pale glaring spectres on the æther ride;

Dogs howl, earth yawns; rent rocks forfake their beds,
And from their quarries heave their stubborn head's.
The fad fpectators, ftiffen'd with their fears,
She fees, and fudden every limb fhe fmears;
Then each of savage beasts the figure bears.

The fun did now to western waves retire,
In tides to temper his bright world of fire.
Canens laments her royal hufband's stay;
Ill fuits fond love with abfence, or delay:
Where the commands, her ready people run;
She wills, retracts; bids, and forbids anon.
Reftlefs in mind, and dying with defpair,
Her breasts she beats, and tears her flowing hair.
Six days and nights fhe wanders on, as chance
Directs, without or fleep, or fuftenance.

Tiber at laft beholds the weeping fair;

Her feeble limbs no more the mourner bear;
Stretch'd on his banks, fhe to the flood complains,
And faintly tunes her voice to dying strains.
The fickening fwan thus hangs her filver wings,
And, as the droops, her elegy fhe fings:
Ere-long fad Canens wastes to air; whilst Fame
The place ftill honours with her haplefs name.

K 4



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