20

High o'er his head was held a starry crown,
Emblem of royalty and princely might:
His priesthood was by golden mitre shown;
An eagle young, with e'yn most piercing-bright,
To prove the prophet drank the distant light.
But strangest was to see a bloody hand

· Uprear a cross, the cross with blood bedight':
Ten thousand angels, flutt'ring in a band,
Admir'd the mystic sign but cou'd not understand.

Now dulcet symphonies, and voices meet,
Mellifluous stole upon the shepherd's ear,
Which swell'd so high and dy'd away so sweet,
As might have charm'd a seraph from his sphere.
Happy the swain that mote such music hear!
Eftsoons a joyous fellowship was seen
Of ladies gent 3, and beauties without peer4,
As they a train of goddesses had been,
In manner of a mask, radiant along the green.
Faith led the van, her mantle dipt in blue,
Steady her ken, and gaining on the skies;
Obedient miracles around her flew:
She pray'd, and Heav'n burst open on her eyes,
And golden valves roll'd back in wond'rous wise:
And now some hill, with all its shaggy load
Of trees and flocks, unto the ocean hies 5:
Now wings of cherubs, flaming all abroad,
Careering on the winds in sight upbear their god.

Sweet-smelling flow'rs the gentle votaries bring,
Primroses, violets, wet with morning-dew,
The sweetest incense of the early spring;
A humble, yet, I weet, a grateful offering.

Jocund to lead the way, with sparkling rays,
Danc'd a star-errant up the orient sky;
The new-born splendour streaming o'er the place,
Seem'd a fixt star unto the wond'ring eye:
Where Jesus lay in bright humility,
Three seers unwist 9 the captain-glory led,
Of awful semblance', but of sable die2.
Full royally along the lawn they tread,
And each with circling gold embraved3 had his

[head.

Low, very low on bended knee they greet
The virgin-mother, and the son adore,
The son of love! and kiss his blessed feet;
Then ope the vases and present their store,
Gold, frankincense and myrrh; what cou'd they
For gold and myrrh a dying king divine 4; [more!
The frankincense, from Arab's spicy shore,.
Confess'd the God; for God did in him shine:
Myrrh, frankincense and gold, God-man, were
meetly thine.

And last, triumphant on a purple cloud,
Fleecy with gold, a band of angels ride:
The richest notes of harmony divide;
They boldly sweep their lyres, and, hymning loud,
Scarce Thomalin the rapture cou'd abide:
And ever and anon the babe they eye,
And through the fleshly veil the God descry'd,
[reply.
Shrill hallelujahs tremble up the sky:
"Good-willand peace to man,"
[ground.

Next Hope, the gayest daughter of the sky!
Her nectar-dewed locks with roses bound;
An Eden flourish'd where she cast her eye,
And flocks of Sports and Joys, their temples
crown'd,

Plum'd their bright wings, and thump'd the hollow
Grief gladden'd, and forgot to drop a tear
At her approach; ne Sorrow mote be found,
Ne rueful-looking Drad7, ne pale-ey'd Care;
And 'neath her chariot wheels she crush'd'hell-
black Despair.

Then Charity full-zon'd, as her beseems,
Her breasts were softer ivory, her hair
Play'd with the sunny rays in amber streams,
And floated wanton on the buxom air;
As Mercy kind, as Hope divinely fair.
Her soul was flame, and with prolific rays
The nations warm'd, all-bright withouten glare.
Both men and angels, as she passes, gaze, [praise.
But chief the poor, the lame, the blind, the naked,

The train of Virtues next, a dainty train!
Advance their steps, sweet daughters of delight,
Awfully sweet, majestically plain!
Celestial Love, as e'yn of seraphs bright,
And spotless as their robes of new-spun light.
Truth, simple as the love-sick village-maid;
Health-blooming Temperance, a comely wight 3:
Humility, in homely weeds array'd,

And by her, in a line, an asses-colt she led.

But hark, the jolly pipe, and rural lay!

And see, the shepherd clad in mantle blue,
And shepherdess in russet kirtle gay,

Come dauncing on the shepherd-lord to view,
And pay, in decent wise, obeysance due.

"the choirs in Heav'n

They ended: and all nature soon was chang'd!
O'er diamond-pebbles ran the liquid gold:
And side by side the lamb and lion rang'd
The flow'ry lawn. The serpent gently roll'd
His glistering spires, and playful tongue outloll'd
To lick the infant-hand. Together fed
The wolf and kid, together sought a fold.
The roses blush'd with more celestial red;
Hell groan'd through all her dens; and grim Death
dropp'd down dead.

Whilom these scenes the tuneful Twick'nham
swain,

With Esay's heav'nly pencil taught to glow:
Then cease, O cease, the antiquated strain;
Nor marr6 his song: but reverently go,
And in the temple of his Muses bow.-
Delight and wonder broke the shepherd's dream;
Faded the scenes: and, in a goodly row,
Rush'd on his eyes the Muses well-lov'd theme,
Fair Rhedicyna's tow'rs, and Isis' sacred stream!

Open'd the festival-Loose to the winds,
Dishevell❜d, bare, the virgins give their necks
"Eve!" they mad'ning cry,
And wanton hair.
And shake their torches. "Eve! lo!" rends

The air, and beats the echoing vault of Heav'n.
The hills, the vales with lo! Eve! ring.

least compassion. This, at last, made the priest | And piny torch (O were it Hymen's!) ting'd run in despair to the image of Bacchus for With spicy gums, to feed the ready flame. succour, imploring vengeance from him. Bacchus made it appear that he heard his prayers, by a disease he sent on the town; which seemed a kind of drunken madness, of which mad fit people died in abundance. Whereupon they sent deputies from Calydon to the oracle of Jupiter of Dodona, to know what they should do to be freed from that woeful malady. Answer was given, that Coresus must sacrifice Callirhoe, or some other person, that would dedicate himself in her stead, to appease the anger of Bacchus. The virgin, when she could no way obtain her life of her relations, was brought to the altar, adorned as victims used to be, to be sacrificed by her lover Coresus whose wonderful love, even at that present, so conquered all past thoughts of revenge, that instead of her he slew himself: the virgin also, relenting of her cruelty to him, went and slew herself at a fountain near the town, from thence called by her name, Callirhoe."

Thus far sir George Wheeler. See his Journey into Greece, fol. book iv. page 292.

I shall only add that the ancient customs, particularly of the orgia or rites of Bacchus, and of the sacrifice, are alluded to, and carefully observed, in the several parts of this little poem.

HIGH in Achaia, splendid from afar,
A city flourish'd; Calydon its name,
Wash'd by Evenus' chalky flood; the seat
Of Meleager, from the slaughter'd boar
Glorious. A virgin here, amazing, shone,
Callirhoe the fair: her father's boast!
For, ah! she never knew a mother's smile;
Nor learn'd what happiness from marriage springs.
In flow'r of youth, and purer than the snow,
Which, with a silver circle, crown'd the head
Of the steep neighbour mountain; but averse
To Hymen's rites, the lovely foe of man.
O why will beauty, cruel to itself,
No less than others, violate the laws
Which Nature dictates, and itself inspires!

A thousand lovers from th' Olenian hill,
From rough Pylene, and from Pleuron's tow'rs,
Their passion pleaded: but Coresus, chief,
The Calydonian priest of Bacchus, form'd
By Venus' self for love; in beauty's pride;
Young, bounteous, affable. What tender arts,
What winning carriage, and respectful suit,
Almost to zealous adoration swell'd,

Did he not practise? But in vain. And now
Drew near the orgial festival, and rites
Lyæan. Poor Coresus, to approve
The wonders of his love and dear regard,
By scorn unquench'd, and growing by neglect,
(In hopes to soften her, at least adorn)
Presented to this murdress of his peace
The ritual ornaments, by virgins worn
Upon the solemn feast. The ivy-spear,
With winding green, and viny foliage gay,
Curl'd by his hand: a mitre for his head,
Curious aumail'd with imitated grapes,
Of blushing rubies form'd: the pall of lawn,
Flower'd with the conquests of the purple god:
The cista, silver; and the cymbals, gold:

The temple opens to the sacred throng;
When foremost enters, as in dress and charms,
Callirhoe, so in speed. Their lovers wait,
His beauteous mistress each. High on a throne
With burning expectation, to enfold
Coresus blaz'd in jewels and in gold,
More charming in himself. Quick with his eye
He catch'd Callirhoe, and, descending, clasp'd
With eager transport her reluctant waist.
A thousand vows he breath'd, and melting things
He spoke and look'd; but to the rocks and wind.
What could he more? Yes more he did: for what,
Neglectful of his dignity he sunk
What can't a lover, like Coresus, do?
(Still love disdains what dignity demands,
O'er Jupiter himself supreme) he sunk,

And trembled at her feet, with prostrate zeal,
With sighing languishment: he gaz'd his soul
As to his God. He dy'd upon her hand
At every ardent glance into her eyes;
Most eloquently silent! O'er his cheek
The gushing tears, in big, round drops, diffus'd
The dews of passion, and the brain's soft show'r,
Potent to warm the most obdurate breast,
Tho' cold as marble. Idle were his tears,
His glances, languishment, and prostrate zeal.

Disdainful-frowning: " Hence," she cry'd,
To interrupt my progress in the rites ["nor dare
With thy capricious rudeness. Shall the priest
The mysteries of Bacchus thus profane,
In his own temple too? And rather pay
To Venus his devotion, than his God?"
Then, haughty as away she turn'd, he grasp'd
Her knees; upon her garments flowing train
Shivering he hung: and with beseeching eyes,
Thus, from the abundance of his heart, com-
plain'd:

"If pity be no stranger to thy breast,
(As sure it should not to a breast like thine,
Soft as the swanny down!) relenting, hear;
In feelingness of spirit, mildly lend
Attention to the language of my heart,
Sick with o'er-flowing tenderness and love,
I love thee with that innocence of truth,
That purity of passion and desire
Unutterable, of bequeathing up
My heart, my life, my all into thy hands,
Into thy gentle custody;-that all,
My heart, my life, are bitterness and weight
Of agony without thee. Since I first,
(By Bacchus' self I swear) beheld that face,
And nameless magic of those radiant eyes,
All the foundation of my peace gave way:
While hopes and fears rose up in bosom-war
To desolate the quiet of my days.
Thy dear idea was my fancy's dream;
It mingled with my blood; and in my veins
Throbb'd, undulating, as my life were stung,

THOMPSON'S POEMS.

[fane:

He pray'd.-Loud peals of thunder shook the
The image, nodding, his petition seal'd;
And Bacchus gave the Calydonian race
To madness, and unutterable woes.

The frantic crowd, as if with wine possest,
And the strong spirit of the flaming grape,
To and fro reel, and stagger to and fro,
In dithyrambic measures, wild, convolv'd.
They toss their cymbals, and their torches shake,
Shrieking, and tear their hair, and gash their flesh,
And howl, and foam, and wheel the rapid dance
In giddy maze: with fury then o'erborn,
Enthusiastic, whirling in despair,

Flat, drop down dead! and heaps on heaps expire.

"The rage of Bacchus for his injur'd priest,
Coresus, by Callirhoe's scorn repuls'd,
Your city wastes: and with funereal fires
Your streets shall redden, formidably bright,
Till by Coresus' hand the cruel maid
A sacrifice be offer'd up: or one,
Free, uncompell'd, embrace the destin'd steel,
Devoted in her stead; and bleed for her.

So you'll appease the god; the plague be stay'd."