What need I urge Antiquity? my Fate
Is a fresh Inftance of the Goddefs' Hate.
A double stock of Tears by me are fpilt,
Both for my Brothers Death, and Sisters Guilt.
Yet, as if that were finall, thefe Chains arrive,
'Caufe I, alone, am guiltlefs, you alive.
But, my dear Lord, if any Thought you have,
Or of the Love, or of the Life I gave:
If any Memory with you does last,
Or of the Pleasures, or the Dangers past,
Now, Linus, now fome Help to her afford,
Who wants the Liberty she gave her Lord.
If Life forfake me ere I you can fee,
And Death, before my Linus, fet me free,
Yet my unhappy Earth from hence remove,
And give thofe Obfequies are due to Love.
When I'm interr'd I know fome Tears will fall:
Then let this little Epitaph be all.
Here lies a Love compleat, tho' hapless Wife,
Who catch'd the Death aim'd at her Husband's Life.
Here I must reft my Hand, tho' much remains,
'Tis quite difabled with the Weight of Chains.
Minus, King of Crete, by a sharp War compelled the Athenians, (who had treacherously flain his Son Androgeos) to fend yearly feven young Men, and as many Virgins, to be devour'd by the Minotaure; a Monster begotten by a Bull upon his Wife Pasiphæ, while he was engaged in that War. The Chance at laft fell upon Thefeus to be fent among thofe Youths; who by the Inftruction of Ariadne escaped out of the Labyrinth, after he had kill'd the Minotaure, and, together with her, fed to the Ifle of Naxos. But, being commanded by Bacchus, he forfook her, while he Slept. When she awak'd, and found her felf deferted, She writes this Letter.
Han favage Beasts more fierce, more to be fear'd;
Expos'd by thee, by them I yet am spar'd!
Thefe Lines from that unhappy Shore I write,
Where you forfook me in your faithlefs Flight,
And the most tender Lower did betray,
While lock'd in Sleep, and in your Arms fhe lay.
When Morning Dew on all the Fields did fall,
And Birds with early Songs for Day did call;
Then I, half fleeping, ftretch'd me tow'rds your Place,
And fought to prefs you with a new Embrace:
Oft fought to prefs you clofe, but ftill in vain;
My folding Arms came empty back again.
Startled, I rofe, and found that you were gone,
Then on my widow'd Bed fell raging down:
Beat the fond Breast, where, fpight of me, you dwell,
And tore that Hair, which you once lik'd fo well.
By the Moon's Light I the wide Shore did view,
But all was Defart, and no Sight of you.
Then every Way with Love's mad Haste I fly,
But ill my Feet with my Defires comply;
Weary they fink in the deep yielding Sands,
Refufing to obey fuch wild Commands.
To all the Shore, of Thefeus I complain,
The Hills and Rocks fend back that Name again:
Oft they repeat aloud the mournful Noife,
And kindly aid a hoarfe and dying Voice.
Tho' faint, yet ftill impatient, next I try
To climb a rough steep Mountain which was nigh;
(My furious Love unufual Strength fupply'd :)
From thence, cafting my Eyes on every Side,
Far off the flying Veffel I efpy'd.
your fwell'd Sails the wanton Winds did play, (They court you fince they fee you false as they.) I saw, or fancy'd that I saw you there,
And my chill Veins froze up with cold Despair:
Thus did I languish, 'till returning Rage
In new Extreams did my fir'd Soul engage.
Thefeus, I cry, perfidious Thefeus flay!
(But you are deaf, deaf as the Winds, or Sea!)
Stay your falfe Flight, and let your Veffel bear
Hence the whole Number which she landed here!
In loud and doleful Shrieks I tell the reft;
And with fresh Fury wound my hated Breaft.
Then all my shining Ornaments I tear,
And with ftretch'd Arms wave them in open Air,
That you might fee her whom you could not hear.
But when out of my Sight the Vessel flew,
And the Horizon fhut me from the View;
From my fad Eyes, what Floods of Tears did fall?
('Till then Rage would not let me weep at all.)
Still let them weep, for lofing Sight of you,
'Tis the whole Business which they ought to do.
Like Bacchus' raving Priefts fometimes I go:
With fuch wild Haste, with Hair dishevel'd fo.
Then on some craggy Rock fit filent down,
As cold, unmov'd, and senseless as the Stone.
To our once happy Bed I often fly;
(No more the Place of mutual Love and Joy.)
See where my much-lov'd Thefeus once was laid,
And kifs the Print which his dear body made.
Here we both lay, I cry, falfe Bed restore
My Thefeus, kind and faithful as before.
I brought him here, here loft him while I flept.
How well, false Bed, you have my Lover kept!
Alone and helpless in this defart Place,
The Steps of Man or Beast I cannot trace ;
On every fide the foaming Billows beat,
But no kind Ship does offer a Retreat.
And should the Gods fend me fome lucky Sail,
Calm Seas, good Pilots, and a profp❜rous Gale;
Yet then my Native Soil I durft not fee,
But a fad Exile muft for ever be.
From all Crete's hundred Cities I am curit,
From that fam'd Ile where Infant Jove was nurst.
Grete I betray'd for you, and, what's more dear,
Betray'd my Father, who that Crown does wear,
When to your Hands the fatal Clew I gave,
Which thro' the winding Lab'rinth led you fafe:
Then how you lov'd, how eagerly embrac'd!
How oft you swore, by all your Dangers paft,
That with my Life your Love should ever laft!
Ah, perjur'd Thefeus, I thy Love survive,
If one forfaken and expos'd does live.
Had you flain me, as you my Brother slew,
You'd then abfolv'd your felf from ev'ry Vow;
Now both my present Grief denies me Reft,
And all, that a wild Fancy can fuggeft
Of dreadful Ills to come, diftracts my Breaft.
Before my Eyes a thousand Deaths appear,
I live, yet fuffer all the Deaths I fear.
Sometimes I think that Lions there do go,
And scarce dare truft my Sight, that 'tis not fo,
Imagine that fierce Wolves are howling there,
And at the imagin'd Noise fhrink up with Fear.
Then think what Monsters from the Sea may rife,
Or fancy bloody Swords before my Eyes.
But moft I dread to be a Captivé made,
And fee thefe Hands in fervile Works employ'd,
Unworthy my Extraction from a Line
On one fide Royal, and on both Divine:
And, (which my Indignation more would move,)
Unworthy her whom Thefeus once did love.
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