"Go, let him feel the whips, the fwords, the fire, "And in the tortures of the rack expire." Th' officious fervants hurry him away,

And the poor captive in a dungeon lay.

But, whilft the whips and tortures are prepar'd,
The gates fly open, of themselves unbarr'd;
At liberty th' unfetter'd captive ftands,
And flings the loosen'd fhackles from his hands.

THE DEATH OF PENTHEUS.

But Pentheus, grown more furious than before,
Refolv'd to fend his meffengers no more,
But went himself to the distracted throng,
Where high Citharon echo'd with their fong.
And as the fiery war-horfe paws the ground,
And fnorts and trembles at the trumpet's found;
Transported thus he heard the frantic rout,
And rav'd and madden'd at the diftant fhout.
A fpacious circuit on the hill there ftood,
Level and wide, and skirted round with wood;
Here the rash Pentheus, with unhallow'd eyes,
The howling dames and mystic orgies spies.
His mother fternly view'd him where he stood,
And kindled into madness as the view'd :
Her leafy javelin at her fon fhe caft;

And cries, "The boar that lays our country wafte!
"The boar, my fifters! aim the fatal dart,
"And strike the brindled monster to the heart."

Pentheus aftonish'd heard the difmal found, And fees the yelling matrons gathering round;

He

He fees, and weeps at his approaching fate,
And begs for mercy, and repents. too late.

prayer,

Help, help! my aunt Autonöe, he cry'd;
"Remember how your own Actæon dy'd.”
Deaf to his cries, the frantic matron crops
One ftretch'd-out arm, the other Ino lops.
In vain does Pentheus to his mother fue,
And the raw bleeding ftumps presents to view:
His mother howl'd; and, heedlefs of his
Her trembling hand she twisted in his hair,
"And this, the cry'd, fhall be Agave's share."
When from the neck his ftruggling head the tore,
And in her hands the ghaftly vifage bore,
With pleasure all the hideous trunk furvey;
Then pull'd and tore the mangled limbs away,
As ftarting in the pangs of death it lay.
Soon as the wood its leafy honours casts,
Blown off and scatter'd by autumnal blasts,
With such a sudden death lay Pentheus flain,
And in a thousand pieces ftrow'd the plain.

By fo diftinguishing a judgment aw'd,
The Thebans tremble, and confefs the god.

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THE

THE STORY OF SALMACIS AND HERMAPHRODITUS.

FROM THE FOURTH BOOK OF OVID'S

METAMORPHOSES.

OW Salmacis, with weak enfeebling ftreams,
Softens the body, and unnerves the limbs,
And what the fecret caufe, fhall here be fhown;
The caufe is fecret, but th' effect is known.

The Naïads nurft an infant heretofore,
That Cytherea once to Hermes bore:
From both th' illuftrious authors of his race
The child was nam'd; nor was it hard to trace
Both the bright parents through the infant's face.
When fifteen years, in Ida's cool retreat,
The boy had told, he left his native seat,
And fought fresh fountains in a foreign foil:
The pleasure leffen'd the attending toil.
With eager steps the Lycian fields he croft,
And fields that border on the Lycian coaft;
A river here he view'd fo lovely bright,

It fhew'd the bottom in a fairer light,
Nor kept a fand conceal'd from human fight:
The ftream produc'd nor flimy ooze, nor weeds,
Nor miry rushes, nor the fpiky reeds;

But dealt enriching moisture all around,

The fruitful banks with chearful verdure crown'd,
And kept the spring eternal on the ground.

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A nymph prefides, nor practis'd in the chace,
Nor skilful at the bow, nor at the race;
Of all the blue-ey'd daughters of the main,
The only ftranger to Diana's train :
Her fifters often, as 'tis faid, wou'd cry,
“Fy, Salmacis, what always idle! fy,
"Or take thy quiver, or thy arrows feize,
"And mix the toils of hunting with thy ease.”
Nor quiver fhe nor arrows e'er would feize,
Nor mix the toils of hunting with her ease.
But oft would bathe her in the crystal tide,
Oft with a comb her dewy locks divide;
Now in the limpid ftreams fhe view'd her face,
And dreft her image in the floating glass :
On beds of leaves fhe now repos'd her limbs,
Now gather'd flowers that grew about her ftreams
And then by chance was gathering, as she stood
To view the boy, and long for what the view'd.

Fain would the meet the youth with hafty feet,
She fain would meet him, but refus'd to meet
Before her looks were fet with nicest care,
And well deferv'd to be reputed fair.

"Bright youth, fhe cries, whom all thy features prove "A god, and, if a god, the god of love;

But if a mortal, bleft thy nurse's breast : "Bleft are thy parents, and thy fifters bleft; "But oh how bleft! how more than bleft thy bride, "Ally'd in blifs, if any yet ally'd.

"If fo, let mine the ftol'n enjoyments be;

If not, behold a willing bride in me."

The

The boy knew nought of love, and toucht with fhame,
He ftrove, and blusht, but still the blush became ;
In rifing blushes ftill fresh beauties rofe;

The funny fide of fruit such blushes shows,
And fuch the moon, when all her filver white
Turns in eclipfes to a ruddy light.

The nymph ftill begs, if not a nobler blifs,
A cold falute at least, a fifter's kifs:
And now prepares to take the lovely boy
Between her arms. He, innocently coy,
Replies, " Or leave me to myself alone,
"You rude uncivil nymph, or I'll be gone."
"Fair ftranger then," fays fhe," it shall be fo;"
And, for the fear'd his threat, fhe feign'd to go;
But, hid within a covert's neighbouring green,
She kept him still in fight, herself unseen.
The boy now fancies all the danger o'er,
And innocently sports about the shore;
Playful and wanton to the stream he trips,
And dips his foot, and shivers as he dips.
The coolnefs pleas'd him, and with eager hafte
His airy garments on the banks he cast;
His godlike features, and his heavenly hue,
And all his beauties, were expos'd to view.
His naked limbs the nymph with rapture spies,
While hotter paffions in her bofom rise,
Flush in her cheeks, and sparkle in her eyes.
She longs, the burns to clasp him in her arms,
And looks and fighs, and kindles at his charms.
Now all undreft upon the banks he stood,
And clapt his fides, and leapt into the flood:

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