THESE Prodigies affect the pious Prince, | |
| But more perplexd with those that happend since, | |
| He purposes to seek the Clarian God, | |
| Avoiding Delphos, his more famd Abode; | |
| Since Phlegyan Robbers made unsafe the Road. | 5 |
| Yet coud not he from her he lovd so well, | |
| The fatal Voyage, he resolvd, conceal: | |
| But when she saw her Lord prepard to part, | |
| A deadly Cold ran shivring to her Heart: | |
| Her faded Cheeks are changd to Boxen Hue, | 10 |
| And in her Eyes the Tears are ever new: | |
| She thrice assayd to Speak; her Accents hung, | |
| And faltring dyd unfinishd on her Tongue, | |
| Or vanishd into Sighs: With long delay | |
| Her Voice returnd; and found the wonted way. | 15 |
| Tell me, my Lord, she said, what Fault unknown | |
| Thy once belovd Alcyone has done? | |
| Whether, ah whether 2 is thy Kindness gone! | |
| Can Ceyx then sustain to leave his Wife, | |
| And unconcernd forsake the Sweets of Life? | 20 |
| What can thy Mind to this long Journey move, | |
| Or needst thou absence to renew thy Love? | |
| Yet, if thou gost by Land, tho Grief possess | |
| My Soul evn then, my Fears will be the less. | |
| But ah! be warnd to shun the Watry Way, | 25 |
| The Face is frightful of the stormy Sea. | |
| For late I saw a-drift disjointed Planks, | |
| And empty Tombs erected on the Banks. | |
| Nor let false Hopes to trust betray thy Mind, | |
| Because my Sire in Caves constrains the Wind, | 30 |
| Can with a Breath their clamrous Rage appease, | |
| They fear his Whistle, and forsake the Seas; | |
| Not so, for, once indulgd, they sweep the Main, | |
| Deaf to the Call, or, hearing hear in vain; | |
| But bent on Mischief bear the Waves before, | 35 |
| And not content with Seas insult the Shoar, | |
| When Ocean, Air, and Earth, at once ingage, | |
| And rooted Forrests fly before their Rage: | |
| At once the clashing Clouds to Battle move, | |
| And Lightnings run across the Fields above: | 40 |
| I know them well, and markd their rude Comport, | |
| While yet a Child, within my Fathers Court: | |
| In times of Tempest they command alone, | |
| And he but sits precarious on the Throne: | |
| The more I know, the more my Fears augment, | 45 |
| And Fears are oft prophetick of th Event. | |
| But if not Fears, or Reasons will prevail, | |
| If Fate has fixd 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: 3 | |
| Then oer the bounding Billows shall we fly, | |
| Secure to live together, or to die. | |
| These Reasons movd her starlike Husbands Heart, | |
| But still he held his Purpose to depart: | 55 |
| For as he lovd her equal to his Life, | |
| He woud not to the Seas expose his Wife; | |
| Nor coud be wrought his Voyage to refrain, | |
| But sought by Arguments to sooth her Pain; | |
| Nor these availd; 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 Fathers holy Flame, I swear, | |
| Before two Moons their Orb with Light adorn, | |
| If Heavn 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 |
| Sighd, with a sad Presage, and swooning fell. | |
| While Ceyx seeks Delays, the lusty Crew, | |
| Raisd on their Banks, their Oars in order drew | |
| To their broad Breasts, the Ship with fury flew. | |
| The Queen recoverd 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 4 her View | |
| With sharpend Sight, till she no longer knew | 80 |
| The much-lovd Face; that Comfort lost supplies | |
| With less, and with the Galley feeds her Eyes; | |
| The Galley born from view by rising Gales, | |
| She followd with her Sight the flying Sails: | |
| When evn 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 wearyd Eyes to close. | |
| Her Husbands Pillow, and the Widowd part | |
| Which once he pressd, renewd 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 Speakers Mouth the Speech is drownd. | |
| 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 suffring Seas | |
| Are tossd, and mingled as their Tyrants please. | |
| The Master woud command, but in despair | 115 |
| Of Safety, stands amazd with stupid Care, | |
| Nor what to bid, or what forbid he knows, | |
| Th ungovernd 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 mixd 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 glittring 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 battring Rams, a Fort: | 140 |
| Or as a Lyon, bounding in his way, | |
| With Force augmented bears against his Prey, | |
| Sidelong to seize; or unappald with Fear | |
| Springs on the Toils, and rushes on the Spear: | |
| So Seas impelld by Winds with added Powr | 145 |
| Assault the Sides, and oer the Hatches towr. | |
| The Planks (their pitchy Covring 5 washd 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 swelld with Waters upwards tends, | |
| One rising, falling one, the Heavns, and Sea | |
| Meet at their Confines, in the middle Way: | |
| The Sails are drunk with Showrs, 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 Lightnings blaze, the Water burns. | 160 |
| Now all the Waves their scatterd 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 advancd 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 conquring 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 Prayrs and Vows the Gods implores, | |
| And evn the Skys 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 anxious 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 woud 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 destind 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 gaind insults the Waves below; | |
| Nor lighter falls, than if some Gyant tore | |
| Pindus and Athos, with the Freight they bore, | |
| And tossd on Seas: pressd 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 scatterd Planks with fruitless Care | |
| Lay hold, and swim, but while they swim, despair. | |
| Evn 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 Wifes, 6 in vain; | |
| But yet his Consort is his greater Care; | |
| Alcyone he names amidst his Prayr, | 215 |
| Names as a Charm against the Waves, and Wind; | |
| Most in his Mouth, and ever in his Mind: | |
| Tird with his Toyl, all hopes of Safety past, | |
| From Prayrs 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 evn when plungd beneath, on her he raves, | |
| Murmring Alcyone below the Waves: | 225 |
| At last a falling Billow stops his Breath, | |
| Breaks oer his Head, and whelms him underneath. | |
| Bright Lucifer unlike himself appears | |
| That Night, his heavnly Form obscurd 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 promisd Time provides with care, | |
| And hastens in the Woof the Robes he was to wear: | |
| And for her Self employs another Loom, | |
| New-dressd to meet her Lord returning home, | |
| Flattring her Heart with Joys that never were to come: | 240 |
| She fumd the Temples with an odrous Flame, | |
| And oft before the sacred Altars came, | |
| To pray for him, who was an empty Name. | |
| All Powrs implord, but far above the rest | |
| To Juno she her pious Vows addressd, | 245 |
| Her much-lovd Lord from Perils to protect | |
| And safe oer Seas his Voyage to direct: | |
| Then prayd that she might still possess his Heart, | |
| And no pretending Rival share a part; | |
| This last Petition heard of all her Prayr, | 250 |
| The rest dispersd by Winds were lost in Air. | |
| But she, the Goddess of the Nuptial-Bed, | |
| Tird with her vain Devotions for the Dead, | |
| Resolvd the tainted Hand should be repelld, | |
| Which Incense offerd, and her Altar held: | 255 |
| Then Iris thus bespoke: Thou faithful Maid, | |
| By whom thy 7 Queens Commands are well conveyd, | |
| 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 perishd in the Storm: | |
| This form before Alcyone present, | |
| To make her certain of the sad Event. | |
| Indud 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 rockd, 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 oer 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 turnd, to break his Sleep. | |
| But in the gloomy Court was raisd a Bed, | |
| Stuffd with black Plumes, and on an Ebonsted: | |
| Black was the Covring too, where lay the God | |
| And slept supine, his Limbs displayd 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 indulgd the Day | 300 |
| To the brown Cave, and brushd the Dreams away: | |
| The God disturbd with this new Glare of Light | |
| Cast sudden on his Face, unseald his Sight, | |
| And raisd his tardy Head, which sunk agen, | |
| And sinking on his Bosom knockd his Chin: | 305 |
| At length shook off himself; and askd the Dame, | |
| (And asking yawnd) for what intent she came? | |
| To whom the Goddess thus: O sacred Rest, | |
| Sweet pleasing Sleep, of all the Powrs 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 sufferd 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 Junos Hand. | |
| She said, and scarce awake her Eyes coud keep, | |
| Unable to support the Fumes of Sleep: | 320 |
| But fled returning by the way she went, | |
| And swervd along her Bow with swift ascent. | |
| The God uneasy till he slept again | |
| Resolvd at once to rid himself of Pain; | |
| And tho against his Custom, calld aloud, | 325 |
| Exciting Morpheus from the sleepy Crowd: | |
| Morpheus of all his numerous Train expressd | |
| The Shape of Man, and imitated best; | |
| The Walk, the Words, the Gesture coud supply, | |
| The Habit mimick, and the Mien bely; | 330 |
| Plays well, but all his Action is confind; | |
| Extending not beyond our human kind. | |
| Another Birds, and Beasts, and Dragons apes, | |
| And dreadful Images, and Monster shapes: | |
| This Demon, Icelos, in Heavns high Hall | 335 |
| The Gods have namd; but men Phobetor call: | |
| A third is Phantasus, whose Actions roul | |
| On meaner Thoughts, and Things devoid of Soul; | |
| Earth, Fruits and Flowrs, he represents in Dreams, | |
| And solid Rocks unmovd, 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 dispatchd, | |
| Which done, the lazy Monarch overwatchd, | |
| Down from his propping Elbow drops his Head, | 345 |
| Dissolvd in Sleep, and shrinks within his Bed. | |
| Darkling 8 the Demon glides for Flight prepard, | |
| 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 Kings; | |
| And pale as Death despoild of his Array | |
| Into the Queens Apartment takes his way, | |
| And stands before the Bed at dawn of Day: | 355 |
| Unmovd 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 |
| Knowst thou not me? Not yet unhappy Wife? | |
| Or are my Features perishd with my Life? | |
| Look once again, and for thy Husband lost, | |
| Lo all thats left of him, thy Husbands Ghost! | |
| Thy Vows for my return were all in vain; | 365 |
| The stormy South oertook us in the Main; | |
| And never shalt thou see thy living 9 Lord again. | |
| Bear witness Heavn I calld on thee in Death, | |
| And while I calld, a Billow stopd 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 undeplord | |
| Permit my Ghost to pass the Stygian Ford: | |
| But rise, prepard, in Black, to mourn thy perishd Lord. | |
| Thus said the Player-God; and adding Art | 375 |
| Of Voice and Gesture, so performd his part, | |
| She thought (so like her Love the Shade appears) | |
| That Ceyx spake the Words, and Ceyx shed the Tears. | |
| She groand, her inward Soul with Grief opprest, | |
| She sighd, she wept; and sleeping beat her Breast: | 380 |
| Then stretchd her Arms t embrace his Body bare, | |
| Her clasping Arms inclose but empty Air: | |
| At this not yet awake, she cryd, O stay, | |
| One is our Fate, and common is our way! | |
| So dreadful was the Dream, so loud she spoke, | 385 |
| That starting sudden up, the Slumber broke: | |
| Then cast her Eyes around in hope to view | |
| Her vanishd Lord, and find the Vision true: | |
| For now the Maids, who waited her Commands, | |
| Ran in with lighted Tapers in their Hands. | 390 |
| Tird with the Search, not finding what she seeks, | |
| With cruel Blows she pounds her blubberd Cheeks; | |
| Then from her beaten Breast the Linnen tare, | |
| And cut the golden Caull that bound her Hair. | |
| Her Nurse demands the Cause; 10 with louder Cries | 395 |
| She prosecutes her Griefs, and thus replies. | |
| No more Alcyone; she sufferd Death | |
| With her lovd Lord, when Ceyx lost his Breath: | |
| No Flattry, no false Comfort, give me none, | |
| My Shipwreckd Ceyx is for ever gone; | 400 |
| I saw, I saw him manifest in view, | |
| His Voice, his Figure, and his Gestures knew: | |
| His Lustre lost, and evry living Grace, | |
| Yet I retaind the Features of his Face; | |
| Though with pale Cheeks, wet Beard, and dropping Hair, | 405 |
| None but my Ceyx coud appear so fair: | |
| I would have straind him with a strict Embrace, | |
| But through my arms he slipd, and vanishd from the Place: | |
| There, evn just there, he stood; and as she spoke | |
| Where last the Spectre was, she cast her Look: | 410 |
| Fain woud she hope, and gazd upon the Ground | |
| If any printed Footsteps might be found. | |
| Then sighd and said: This I too well foreknew, | |
| And my prophetick Fear presagd too true: | |
| Twas what I begd, when with a bleeding Heart | 415 |
| I took my leave, and sufferd Thee to part, | |
| Or I to go along, or Thou to stay, | |
| Never, ah never to divide our way! | |
| Happier for me, that all our Hours assignd | |
| Together we had livd; een not in Death disjoind! | 420 |
| So had my Ceyx still been living here, | |
| Or with my Ceyx I had perishd there: | |
| Now I die absent, in the vast profound; | |
| And Me without my Self the Seas have drownd: | |
| The Storms were not so cruel; should I strive | 425 |
| To lengthen Life, and such a Grief survive; | |
| But neither will I strive, nor wretched Thee | |
| In Death forsake, but keep thee Company. | |
| If not one common Sepulcher contains | |
| Our Bodies, or one Urn, our last Remains, | 430 |
| Yet Ceyx and Alcyone shall join, | |
| Their Names rememberd in one common Line. | |
| No farther Voice her mighty Grief affords, | |
| For Sighs come rushing in betwixt her Words, | |
| And stopd her Tongue; but what her Tongue denyd, | 435 |
| Soft Tears, and Groans, and dumb Complaints supplyd. | |
| Twas Morning; to the Port she takes her way, | |
| And stands upon the Margin of the Sea: | |
| That Place, that very Spot of Ground she sought, | |
| Or thither by her Destiny was brought; | 440 |
| Where last he stood: And while she sadly said | |
| T was here he left me, lingring here delayd | |
| His parting Kiss; and there his Anchors weighd. | |
| Thus speaking, while her Thoughts past Actions trace, | |
| And call to mind admonishd by the Place, | 445 |
| Sharp at her utmost Ken she cast her Eyes, | |
| And somewhat floating from afar descries; | |
| It seemd a Corps adrift, to distant Sight, | |
| But at a distance who could judge aright? | |
| It wafted nearer yet, and then she knew | 450 |
| That what before she but surmisd, was true: | |
| A Corps it was, but whose it was, unknown, | |
| Yet movd, howeer, she made the Case her own: | |
| Took the bad Omen of a shipwreckd Man, | |
| As for a Stranger wept, and thus began. | 455 |
| Poor Wretch, on stormy Seas to lose thy Life, | |
| Unhappy thou, but more thy widdowd Wife! | |
| At this she pausd; for now the flowing Tide | |
| Had brought the Body nearer to the side: | |
| The more she looks, the more her Fears increase | 460 |
| At nearer Sight; and shes her self the less: | |
| Now drivn ashore, and at her Feet it lies, | |
| She knows too much, in knowing whom she sees: | |
| Her Husbands Corps; at this she loudly shrieks, | |
| Tis he, tis he, she cries, and tears her Cheeks, | 465 |
| Her Hair, her Vest, and stooping to the Sands | |
| About his Neck she cast her trembling Hands. | |
| And is it thus, O dearer than my Life, | |
| Thus, thus returnst Thou to thy longing Wife! | |
| She said, and to the neighbring Mole she strode, | 470 |
| (Raisd there to break th Incursions of the Flood;) 11 | |
| Headlong from hence to plunge her self she springs, | |
| But shoots along supported on her Wings; | |
| A Bird new-made about the Banks she plies, | |
| Not far from Shore; and short Excursions tries; | 475 |
| Nor seeks in Air her humble Flight to raise, | |
| Content to skim the Surface of the Seas: | |
| Her Bill, tho slender, sends a creaking Noise, | |
| And imitates a lamentable Voice: | |
| Now lighting where the bloodless Body lies, | 480 |
| She with a Funeral Note renews her Cries. | |
| At all her stretch her little Wings she spread, | |
| And with her featherd Arms embracd the Dead: | |
| Then flickring to his palid Lips, she strove | |
| To print a Kiss, the last essay of Love: | 485 |
| Whether the vital Touch revivd the Dead, | |
| Or that the moving Waters raisd his Head | |
| To meet the Kiss, the Vulgar doubt alone; | |
| For sure a present Miracle was shown. | |
| The Gods their Shapes to Winter-Birds translate, | 490 |
| But both obnoxious to their former Fate. | |
| Their conjugal Affection still is tyd, | |
| And still the mournful Race is multiplyd; | |
| They bill, they tread; Alcyone compressd | |
| Sevn days sits brooding on her floating Nest: | 495 |
| A wintry Queen: Her Sire at length is kind, | |
| Calms evry Storm, and hushes evry Wind: | |
| Prepares his Empire for his Daughters Ease, | |
| And for his hatching Nephews smooths the Seas. | |