Were I less fair I might have been more bleft:
Great beauty through great danger is poffeft.
To leave me here his venture was not hard,
Because he thought my vertue was my guard.
He fear'd my face, but trufted to my life,
The beauty doubted, but believ'd the Wife:
You bid me ufe th' occafion while I can,
Put in our hands by the good eafie Man.
I wou'd, and yet I doubt, 'twixt Love and fear; One draws me from you, and one brings me near. Our flames are mutual, and my Husband's gone, 176 The nights are long; I fear to lie alone:
One house contains us, and weak walls divide,
And you're too preffing to be long denied:
Let me not live, but every thing conspires
To joyn our loves, and yet my fear retires.
You court with words, when you fhou'd force im-
A Rape is requifite to fhame-fac'd joy:
Indulgent to the wrongs which we receive,
Our Sex can fuffer what we dare not give.
What have I faid! for both of us 'twere best,
Our kindling fire if each of us fuppreft.
The faith of Strangers is too prone to change,
And like themselves, their wandring paffions range. Hypfipyle, and the fond Minoian Maid,
Were both by trufting of their Guests betray'd.
How can I doubt that other men deceive,
When you your felf did fair OEnone leave?
But left I fhou'd upbraid your treachery,
You make a merit of that crime to me.
Yet grant you were to faithful love inclin'd,
Your weary Trojans wait but for a wind.
Shou'd you prevail, while I affign the night
Your Sails are hoyfted, and you take your flight:
Some bawling Mariner our love destroys,
And breaks afunder our unfinish'd joys.
But I with you may leave the Spartan Port,
To view the Trojan wealth, and Priam's Court.
Shown while I fee, I fhall expofe my fame,
And fill a foreign country with my fhame.
In Afia what reception fhall I find?
And what dishonour leave in Greece behind?
What will your Brothers, Priam, Hecuba,
And what will all your modeft Matrons fay?
Ev'n you, when on this action you reflect,
My future conduct juftly may fufpect:
And what e'er Stranger lands upon your coaft,
Conclude me, by your own example, lost.
I from your rage, a Strumpet's name shall hear,
While you forget what part in it you bear.
215
You my crime's Author, will my crime upbraid:
Deep under ground, Oh let me first be laid!
You boaft the pomp and plenty of your land,
And promise all fhall be at my command:
Your Trojan wealth, believe me, I defpife;
My own poor native land has dearer ties.
Shou'd I be injur❜d on your Phrygian shore,
What help of kindred cou'd I there implore?
Medea was by fasons flatt'ry won :
I may like her believe and be undone.
Plain honeft hearts, like mine, fufpect no cheat;
And Love contributes to its own deceit.
The Ships about whofe fides loud tempefts roar,
With gentle winds were wafted froin the shore.
Your teeming Mother dreamt a flaming brand
Sprung from her womb confum'd the Trojan Land. To fecond this, old Prophecies confpire,
That Ilium fhall be burnt with Grecian fire:
Both give me fear; nor is it much allay'd,
That Venus is oblig'd our loves to aid.
For they who loft their caufe, revenge will take,
And for one friend two enemies you make.
Nor can I doubt, but fhou'd I follow you,
The fword wou'd foon our fatal crime pursue:
A wrong fo great my Husband's rage wou'd rouze,
And my Relations wou'd his cause espouse.
You boast your strength and courage, but alas!.
Your words receive fmall credit from your face.
Let Heroes in the dufty field delight,
Those limbs were fashion'd for another fight...245
Bid Hector fally from the walls of Troy,
A fweeter quarrel fhou'd your arms imploy...
Yet fears like thefe, fhou'd not my mind perplex,
Were I as wife as many of my Sex,
But time and you, may bolder thoughts infpire;
And I perhaps may yield to your defire.
You laft demand a private conference,
These are your words, but I can guess your fenfe.
Your unripe hopes their harvest must attend:
Berul'd by me, and time may be your friend. 255
This is enough to let you understand,
For now my Pen has tir'd my tender hand:
My Woman knows the fecret of my heart,
And may hereafter better news impart.
Part of the ftory of ORPHEUS, being a tranflation out of the fourth Book of VIRGIL'S GEORGIC.
Trhetjurd calls judgments
Is not for nothing when just Heav'n does frown;
Whose spouse, avoiding to become thy prey,
And all his joys, at once were fnatched away;
The Nymph fore-doom'd that fatal way to pafs, 5
Spyed not the ferpent lurking in the grass:
A mournfull cry the fpatious,valley fills,
With echoing groans from all the neighbouring hills;
The Dryades roar out in deep despair,
And with united voice bewail the fair.
For fuch a lofs he fought no vain relief,
But with his lute indulg'd the tender grief;
Along the fhore he oft would wildly ftray
With dolefull notes begin, and end the day.
At length, to Hell a frightfull journey made,
Pafs'd the wide-gaping gulph, and dismal flade;
Vifits the ghofts, and to that King repairsde;
Whofe heart's in flexible to humane prayers.
All Hell is ravifh'd with fo fweet a forg;
Light fouls, and airy fpirits glide along;
In troops, like millions of the feathered kind,
Driv'n home by night, or fome tempeftuous wind;
Matrons, and men, raw youths and unripe maids;
And mighty Heroes more majeflick fhades;
And fons entomb'd before their parents face;
These the black waves of bounding Styx embrace
Nine times circumfluent, clogg'd with noifome
weeds,
And all that filth which standing water breeds.
Amazement reach'd ev'n the deep caves of death;
The Sifters with blue fnaky curles took breath;
Ixion's wheel a while unmov'd remaind,
And the fierce Dog his three-mouth'd voice reftráin'd.
When fafe return'd, and all thefe dangers paft, His Wife reftor'd to breathe fresh air at last; Following, (for fo Proferpina was pleas'd) A fudden rage th' unwary Lover feiz'd: He as the firft bright glimpse of daylight shin'd, Could not refrain to caft one look behind; A fault of Love! could hell compaffion find. A dreadfull found thrice fhook the Stygian coaft, 40 His hopes quite fled, and all his labour loft! Why haft thou thus undone thy felf and me? What rage is this? oh, I am fnatch'd from thee! She faintly cry'd, night, and the powers of hell Surround my fight; oh Orpheus! oh fare well! My hands ftretch forth to reach thee as before But all in vain, for lam thine no more; No more allow'd to view thy face, orday Then from his eyes, like fmoak, fhe fleets away. Much he would fain have spoke, but Fate, alas! Would ne'er again consent to let him pass. 51 Thus twice undone, what courfe remain'd to take, To gain her back, already pafs'd the lake? What tears, what patience, could procure him ease? Orah! what vows the angry Powers appease? 55
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