But on an arm of oak, that food betwixt
The marks-man and the mark, his lance he fixt.

Once more bold Jason threw, but fail'd to wound
The boar, and flew an undeferving hound;
And through the dog the dart was nail'd to ground.
Two fpears from Meleager's hand were sent,
With equal force, but various in th' event:
The firft was fix'd in earth, the second stood

On the boar's briftled back, and deeply drank his blood.
Now while the tortur'd favage turns around,
And flings about his foam impatient of the wound,
The wound's great author clofe at hand provokes
His rage, and plies him with redoubled ftrokes;
Wheels as he wheels; and with his pointed dart
Explores the nearest paffage to his heart.
Quick and more quick he fpins in giddy gires,
Then falls, and in much foam his foul expires.
This act with shouts heaven-high the friendly band
Applaud, and strain in theirs the victor's hand.
Then all approach the flain with vaft furprize,
Admire on what a breadth of earth he lies;
And, fcarce fecure, reach out their spears afar,
And blood their points, to prove their partnership of war,
But he, the conquering chief, his foot imprefs'd

On the strong neck of that deftru&tive beast;
And, gazing on the nymph with ardent eyes,
Accept, faid he, fair Nonacrine, my prize,
And, though inferior, fuffer me to join
My labours, and my part of praise, with thine :

At

At this prefents her with the tusky head
And chine, with rifing briftles roughly spread.
Glad, the receiv'd the gift; and feem'd to take
With double pleasure, for the giver's fake.
The reft were feiz'd with fullen difcontent,
And a deaf murmur through the fquadron went :
All envy'd; but the Theflyan brethren show'd
The least respect, and thus they vent their spleen aloud:
Lay down thofe honour'd spoils, nor think to fhare,
Weak woman as thou art, the prize of war:
Ours is the title, thine a foreign claim,
Since Meleagrus from our lineage came.
Truft not thy beauty; but restore the prize,
Which he, befotted on that face and eyes,

1

Would rend from us. At this, inflam'd with spite, From her they fnatch'd the gift, from him the giver's right.

But foon th' impatient prince his fauchion drew,

And cry'd, Ye robbers of another's due,

Now learn the difference, at your proper cost,
Betwixt true valour, and an empty boast.
At this advanc'd, and fudden as the word,
In proud Plexippus' bofom plung'd the fword :
Toxeus amaz'd, and with amazement low,
Or to revenge, or ward the coming blow,
Stood doubting; and, while doubting thus he stood,
Receiv'd the fteel bath'd in his brother's blood.
Pleas'd with the firft, unknown the fecond news,
Althea to the temples pays their dues

For

For her fon's conqueft; when at length appear
Her grifly brethren ftretch'd upon the bier :
Pale, at the fudden fight, fhe chang'd her cheer,
And with her cheer her robes; but hearing tell
The cause, the manner, and by whom they fell,
"Twas grief no more, or grief and rage were one
Within her foul; at laft 'twas rage alone;
Which burning upwards in fucceffion dries
The tears that stood confidering in her eyes.

:

There lay a log unlighted on the earth: When she was labouring in the throes of birth For th' unborn chief the fatal fifters came, And rais'd it up, and tofs'd it on the flame: Then on the rock a scanty measure place Of vital flax, and turn'd the wheel apace; And turning fung, To this red brand and thee, O new-born babe, we give an equal destiny : So vanifh'd out of view. The frighted dame Sprung hafty from her bed, and quench'd the flame : The log in fecret lock'd, the kept with care, And that, while thus preferv'd, preferv'd her heir. This brand the now produc'd; and first she strows The hearth with heaps of chips, and after blows; Thrice heav'd her hand, and, heav'd, she thrice reprefs'd:

The fifter and the mother long conteft,

Two doubtful titles in one tender breaft;

And now her eyes and cheeks with fury glow,
Now pale her checks, her eyes with pity flow;

}

Now

Now lowering looks prefage approaching ftorms,
And now prevailing love her face reforms :
Refolv'd, the doubts again; the tears, the dry'd
With blushing rage, are by new tears supply'd:
And as a fhip, which winds and waves affail,
Now with the current drives, now with the gale,
Both oppofite, and neither long prevail.
She feels a double force, by turns obeys
Th'imperious tempeft, and th' impetuous feas :
So fares Althæa's mind; first she relents
With pity, of that pity then repents :
Sifter and mother long the fcales divide,
But the beam nodded on the fifter's fide.
Sometimes the foftly figh'd, then roar'd aloud;
But fighs were ftifled in the cries of blood.

The pious impious wretch at length decreed,

To please her brother's ghosts, her fon fhould bleed;
And when the funeral flames began to rife,
Receive, the faid, a fifter's facrifice :

A mother's bowels burn: high in her hand,
Thus while fhe fpoke, fhe held the fatal brand;
Then thrice before the kindled pile fhe bow'd,
And the three Furies thrice invok'd aloud:
Come, come, revenging fifters, come and view
A fifter paying a dead brother's due:

A crime I punish, and a crime commit;
But blood for blood, and death for death, is fit:
Great crimes must be with greater crimes repaid,
And fecond funerals on the former laid.

}

Let

And

Let the whole houfhold in one ruin fall,
may Diana's curfe o'ertake us all!
Shall fate to happy Oeneus ftill allow

One fon, while Theftius ftands depriv'd of two?
Better three loft, than one unpunish'd go.

Take then, dear ghofts, (while yet admitted new
In hell you wait my duty) take your due:
A coftly offering on your tomb is laid,
When with my blood the price of yours is paid.
Ah! whither am I hurry'd? Ah! forgive,
Ye fhades, and let your fifter's iffue live:
A mother cannot give him death; though he
Deferves it, he deferves it not from me.

Then fhall th' unpunish'd wretch infult the flain,
Triumphant live, not only live, but reign?
While you thin fhades, the fport of winds, are toft
O'er dreary plains, or tread the burning coast.

I cannot, cannot bear; 'tis paft, 'tis done;
Perish this impious, this detested son ;

Perish his fire, and perifh I withal;

}

And let the house's heir, and the hop'd kingdom fall. Where is the mother fled, her pious love,

And where the pains which with ten months I ftrove!
Ah! hadst thou dy'd, my fon, in infant years,

Thy little herfe had been bedew'd with tears.
Thou liv'ft by me; to me thy breath refign;
Mine is the merit, the demerit thine.

Thy life by double title I require;

Once given at birth, and once preferv'd from fire: