"See my finge'd hair, behold my faded eye,
"And wither'd face, where heaps of cinders lie!
"And does the plow for this my body tear?
"This the reward for all the fruits I bear,
"Tortur'd with rakes, and harass'd all the year?
"That herbs for cattle daily I renew,
"And food for man, and frankincense for you? "But grant Me guilty; what has Neptune done? "Why are his waters boiling in the fun? "The wavy empire, which by lot was given, "Why does it waste, and further shrink from heaven? "If I nor He your pity can provoke,
"See your own Heav'ns, the heav'ns begin to smoke!
"Shou'd once the sparkles catch those bright abodes,
"Destruction feizes on the heav'ns and gods;
"Atlas becomes unequal to his freight,
"And almost faints beneath the glowing weight.
"If heav'n, and earth, and fea, together burn,
"All muft again into their chaos turn.
"Apply fome speedy cure, prevent our fate,
"And fuccour nature, ere it be too late.
She ceas'd; for chok'd with vapours round her spread
Down to the deepest shades fhe funk her head.
Fove call'd to witness every Pow'r above,
And even the God, whose sun the chariot drove,
That what he acts he is compell'd to do,
Or univerfal ruin must ensue.
Straight he afcends the high Ethereal throne,
From whence he us'd to dart his thunder down,
From whence his show'rs and storms he us'd to pour,
But now could meet with neither storm nor show'r.
Then, aiming at the youth, with lifted hand,
Full at his head he hurl'd the forky brand,
In dreadful thund'rings. Thus th' Almighty Sire
Supprefs'd the raging of the fires with fire.
At once from life, and from the chariot driven,
Th' ambitious boy fell thunder- ftruck from heav'n.
The horses started with a sudden bound,
And flung the reins and chariot to the ground:
The ftudded harness from their necks they broke;
Here fell a wheel, and here a filver spoke,
Here were the beam and axle torn away;
And, fcatter'd o'er the earth, the fhining fragments lay.
The breathless Phaeton, with flaming hair
Shot from the chariot, like a falling ftar,
That in a fummer's evening from the top
Of heav'n drops down, or feems at least to drop;
"Till on the Po his blasted corps was hurl'd,
Far from his country, in the western world..
PHAETON'S Sifters transform'd into Trees.
The Latian nymphs came round him, and amaz'd On the dead youth, transfix'd with thunder, gaz'd;
And, whilft yet smoking from the bolt he lay,
His fhatter'd body to a tomb convey,
And o'er the tomb an epitaph devise :
"Here he who drove the Sun's bright chariot lies "His Father's fiery steeds he could not guide, "But in the glorious enterprize he dy’d.
Apollo hid his face, and pin'd for grief,
And, if the story may deserve belief,
The space of One whole day is faid to run,
From morn to wonted even, without a Sun:
The burning ruines, with a fainter ray,
Supply the Sun, and counterfeit a day,
A day, that ftill did nature's face disclose :
This comfort from the mighty mischief rofe.
But Clymenè, enrage'd with grief, laments,
And as her grief infpires, her paffion vents:
Wild for her Son, and frantic in her woes,
With hair difhevel'd, round the world she
goes
To feek where e'er his body might be cast;
"Till, on the borders of the Po, at last
The name infcrib'd on the new tomb
The dear dear name fhe bathes in flowing tears; j
Hangs o'er the tomb, unable to depart,
And hugs the marble to her throbbing heart.
Her daughters too lament, and figh, and mourn, (A fruitless tribute to their brother's urn)
And beat their naked bofoms, and complain,
And call aloud for Phaeton in vain :
All the long night their mournful watch they keep,
And all the day stand round the tomb, and weep.
Four times, revolving, the full Moon return'd;
So long the mother, and the daughters mourn'd:
When now the eldest, Phaethusa, strove
To reft her weary limbs, but could not move;
Lampetia would have help'd her, but she found
Herself withheld, and rooted to the ground:
A third in wild affliction, as fhe grieves,
Would rend her hair, but fills her hand with Leaves;
One fees her thighs transform'd, another views
Her arms fhot out, and branching into boughs.
And now their legs, and breasts, and bodies stood
Crufted with bark, and hard'ning into wood;
But still above were female Heads display'd,
And mouths, that call'd the Mother to their aid.
What could, alas! the weeping mother do?
From this to that with eager hafte she flew,
And kifs'd her fprouting daughters as they grew.
She tears the bark that to each body cleaves,
And from their verdant fingers ftrips the leaves:
The blood came trickling, where she tore away
The leaves and bark: The maids were heard to say,
"Forbear, mistaken Parent, Oh! forbear;
"A wounded daughter in each tree you tear ;
Clos'd on their faces, and their words fupprefs'd.
The new-made trees in tears of Amber run,
Which, hard'ned into value by the Sun,
Diftil for ever on the ftreams below:
The limpid ftreams their radiant treasure show,
Mixt in the fand; whence the rich drops convey'd
Shine in the drefs of the bright Latian maid.
The Transformation of CY CN us into a Swan.
Cycnus beheld the Nymphs transform'd, ally'd
To their dead brother, on the mortal fide,
In friendship and affection nearer bound;
He left the cities and the realms he own'd,
Thro' pathless fields and lonely shores to range,
And woods, made thicker by the fisters' change. ́
Whilft here, within the dismal gloom, alone,
The melancholy Monarch made his moan,
His voice was leffen'd, as he try'd to speak,
And iffu'd through a long extended neck;
His hair transforms to down, his fingers meet
In skinny films, and shape his oary feet;
From both his fides the wings and feathers break;
And from his mouth proceeds a blunted beak :
All Cycnus now into a Swan was turn'd,
Who, till remembring how his kinsman burn'd,
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