But when she view'd the garments loosely spread,
Which once he wore, and faw the confcious bed,
She paus'd, and, with a figh, the robes embrac`d;
Then on the couch her trembling body caft, .
Reprefs'd the ready tears, and spoke her last.
Dear pledges of my love, while heav'n fo pleas'd,
Receive a foul, of mortal anguifh eas'd:
My fatal course is finish'd; and I go
A glorious name, among the ghouls below.
A lofty city by my hands is rais'd;

Pygmalion punish'd, and my lord appeas'd.
What cou'd my fortune have afforded more,
Had the falfe Trojan never touch'd my fhore !
Then kiss'd the couch; and muft I die, fhe said ;
And unreveng'd? 'tis doubly to be dead!

Yet ev'n this death with pleasure I receive;

On any terms, 'tis better than to live.

These flames, from far, may the falfe Trojan view;
These boding cmens his bafe flight pursue.

She faid, and ftruck: deep enter'd in her fide
The piercing fteel, with reeking purple dy'd:
Clog'd in the wound the cruel weapon stands;
The fpouting blood came streaming on her hands.
Her fad attendants faw the deadly stroke,

And with loud cries the founding palace fbook.
Distracted from the fatal fight they fled ;
And thro' the town the difmal rumour spread.

Firft

Firft from the frighted court, the yell began,

Redoubled thence from houfe to house it ran:

The groans of men, with fhrieks, laments, and cries
Of mixing women, mount the vaulted skies,
Not lefs the clamour, than if ancient Tyre,
Or the new Carthage, fet by foes on fire,
The rowling ruin, with their lov'd abodes,
Involv'd the blazing temples of their Gods.
Her fifter hears, and furious with despair,

She beats her breast, and, rends her yellow hair :
And calling on Eliza's name aloud,

Runs breathlefs to the place, and breaks the crowd.
Was all that pomp of woe for this prepar'd,
Thefe fires, this fun'ral pile, these altars rear'd;
Was all this train of plots contriv'd, faid fhe,
All only to deceive unhappy me?

Which is the worst? didst thou in death pretend
To fcorn thy fifter, or delude thy friend!
Thy fummon'd fifter, and thy friend had come :
One fword had ferv'd us both, one common tomb.
Was I to raise the pile, the pow'rs invoke,
Not to be prefent at the fatal ftroke?

At once thou haft destroyed thyfelf and me;
Thy town, thy fenate, and thy colony!

Bring water, bathe the wound; while I in death

Lay close my lips to hers, and catch the flying breath.

This faid, fhe mounts the pile with eager hafte;
And in her arms the gasping queen embrac'd:
Her temples chaf'd; and her own garments tore
To ftanch the ftreaming blood, and cleanse the gore.
Thrice Dido try'd to raise her drooping head,
And fainting thrice, fell grov'ling on the bed.
Thrice op'd her heavy eyes, and faw the light,
But having found it, ficken'd at the fight;
And clos'd her lids at laft, in endless night.
Then Juno, grieving that she should sustain
A death fo lingring, and fo full of pain;
Sent Iris down, to free her from the ftrife

Of lab'ring nature, and diffolve her life.

For fince the dy'd, not doom'd by heav'n's decree,
Or her own crime; but human cafualty,

And rage of love, that plung'd her in despair,
The fifters had not cut the topmost hair,
Which Proferpine, and they can only know
Nor made her facred to the shades below.
Downward the various goddess took her flight;
And drew a thousand colours from the light:
Then flood above the dying lover's head,
And faid, I thus devote thee to the dead.

This off'ring to th' infernal Gods I bear:

Thus while fhe spoke, fhe cut the fatal hair;
The ftrügling foul was loos'd, and life diffolv'd in air.

}

THE

THE STORY OF NARCISSUS,

THU

from OVI D.

Tranflated by Mr. ADDISON.

HUS did the nymph in vain caress the boy,
He ftill was lovely, but he ftill was coy;

When one fair virgin of the flighted train

Thus pray'd the Gods, provok'd by his disdain, "Oh may he love like me, and love like me in vain !"

Rhamnufia pity'd the negle&ed fair,

And with juft vengeance answer'd to her pray'r.
There ftands a fountain in a darkfom wood,
Nor ftain'd with falling leaves nor rifing mud;
Untroubled by the breath of winds it refts,
Unfully'd by the touch of men or beafts;
High bow'rs of fhady trees above it grow,
And rifing grafs and chearful greens below.
Pleas'd with the form and coolness of the place,
And over-heated by the morning chace,
Narciffus on the graffy verdure lies:

But whilft within the cryftal fount he tries
To quench his heat, he feels new heats arife.
For as his own bright image he furvey'd,
He fell in love with the fantastic shade;

L 3

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And

And o'er the fair refemblance hung unmov'd,
Nor knew, fond youth! it was himself he lov'd.
The well turn'd neck and shoulders he defcries,
The fpacious forehead, and the sparkling eyes;
The hands that Bacchus might not scorn to show,
And hair that round Apollo's head might flow;
With all the purple youthfulness of face,
That gently blushes in the wat'ry glass.

By his own flames confum'd the lover lies,

And gives himself the wound by which he dies.
To the cold water oft he joins his lips,

Oft catching at the beauteous fhade he dips.
His arms, as often from himself he flips.

Nor knows he who it is his arms pursue

With eager clafps, but loves he knows not who.
What could, fond youth, this helplefs paffion move?
What kindled in thee this unpity'd love?

Thy own warm blush within the water glows,
With thee the colour'd fhadow comes and goes,
Its empty being on thyfelf relies;

Step thou afide, and the frail charmer dies.

Still o'er the fountain's wat'ry gleam he stood,
Mindlefs of fleep, and negligent of food;
Still view'd his face, and languifh'd as he view'd.
At length he rais'd his head, and thus began
To vent his griefs, and tell the woods his pain.

}

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