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But when the 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 fpoke her laft.
Dear pledges of my love, while heav'n fo pleas'd,
Receive a foul, of mortal anguifh eas'd:
My fatal courfe is finish'd; and I go

A glorious name, among the ghosts 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 shore!
Then kiss'd the couch; and muft I die, she said;
And unreveng'd? 'tis doubly to be dead!

Yet ev'n this death with pleafure 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 ftreaming on her hands.
Her fad attendants faw the deadly ftroke,

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

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 rain, with their lov'd abodes,
Involv'd the blazing temples of their Gods.
Her fifter hears, and furious with defpair,

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

Runs breathless 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 she,
All only to deceive unhappy me?
Which is the worft? 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 clofe my lips to hers, and catch the flying breath.

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This faid, fhe mounts the pile with eager hafte; And in her arms the gafping queen embrac'd: Her temples chaf'd; and her own garments tore To ftanch the streaming 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 fhe fhould fuftain 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 fhades 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.

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

Thus while fhe spoke, fhe cut the fatal hair;

The frugling foul was loos'd, and life diffolv'd in air.

THE

THE STORY OF NARCISSUS,

T

from OVID.

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 difdain, "Oh may he love like me, and love like me in

vain !"

Rhamnufia pity'd the neglected fair,

And with just 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 beasts;
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 fhoulders 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 thyself relies ;

Step thou afide, and the frail charmer dies.

Still o'er the fountain's wat'ry gleam he ftood,.
Mindlefs of fleep, and negligent of food;
Still view'd his face, and languish'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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