Thy mother's grief and crime! but just enjoy'd,
Shewn to my fight, and born to be destroy'd!
Unhappy offspring of my teeming womb !
Dragg'd headlong from thy cradle to thy tomb!
Thy un-offending life I could not fave,
Nor weeping could I follow to thy grave:
Nor on thy tomb could offer my fhorn hair:
Nor fhew the grief which tender mothers bear.
Yet long thou shalt not from my arms be loft;
For foon I will o’ertake thy infant ghost.
But thou, my love, and now my love's despair,
Perform his funerals with paternal care.
His fcatter'd limbs with my dead body burn;
And once more join us in the pious urn.
If on my wounded breast thou dropp'ft a tear,
Think for whofe fake my breast that wound did bear;
And faithfully my last defires fulfil,

As I perform my cruel father's will.

HELEN

HELEN TO

PARIS.

EPIST. XVII.

THE

ARGUMENT.

Helen, having received an epifle from Paris, returns the following anfwer: wherein fhe feems at firft to chide him for his prefumption in writing as he had done, which could only proceed from bis low opinion of her virtue; then owns herself to be fenfible of the paffion, which he had expressed for her, though she much fufpected his conftancy; and at laft difcovers her inclination to be favourable to him: the whole letter fhewing the extreme artifice of womankind.

W

WHEN loofe epiftles violate chafte eyes,

She half confents, who filently denies.
How dares a ftranger, with defigns fo vain,
Marriage and hofpitable rights prophane ?
Was it for this, your fleet did shelter find
From fwelling feas, and every faithless wind
(For though a diftant country brought you forth,
Your ufage here was equal to your worth.)
Does this deferve to be rewarded fo?

Did you come here a stranger or a foe?
Your partial judgment may perhaps complain,
And think me barbarous for my juft disdain.

Ill-bred then let me be, but not unchaste,
Nor my clear fame with any spot defac'd.
Though in my face there's no affected frown,
Nor in my carriage a feign'd niceness shown,
I keep my honour still without a stain,
Nor has my love made any coxcomb vain.
Your boldness I with admiration fee;
What hope had you to gain a queen like me?
Because a hero forc'd me once away,
Am I thought fit to be a fecond prey ?
Had I been won, I had deferv'd your blame,
But fure my part was nothing but the shame.
Yet the bafe theft to him no fruit did bear,
I'fcap'd unhurt by any thing but fear.
Rude force might some unwilling kisses gain;
But that was all he ever could obtain.

You on fuch terms would ne'er have let me go;
Were he like you, we had not parted so.
Untouch'd the youth reftor'd me to my friends,
And modeft ufage made me fome amends.
'Tis virtue to repent a vicious deed.
Did he repent, that Paris might fucceed?
Sure 'tis fome fate that fets me above wrongs,
Yet ftill expofes me to busy tongues.

I'll not complain; for who's displeas'd with love,
If it fincere, discreet, and constant prove?
But that I fear; not that I think you base,
Or doubt the blooming beauties of my face ;
But all
your sex is fubject to deceive,

And ours, alas, too willing to believe.

Yet others yield; and love o'ercomes the best :
But why fhould I not fhine above the rest?
Fair Leda's story seems at first to be
A fit example ready form'd for me.
But she was cozen'd by a borrow'd shape,
And under harmless feathers felt a rape.
If I should yield, what reason could I use?
By what mistake the loving crime excuse?
Her fault was in her powerful lover loft;
But of what Jupiter have I to boast ?
Though you to heroes and to kings fucceed,
Our famous race does no addition need;
And great alliances but useless prove
To one that comes herself from mighty Jove.
Go then, and boast in some lefs haughty place
Your Phrygian blood, and Priam's ancient race;
Which I would fhew I valued, if I durft ;
You are the fifth from Jove, but I the first.
The crown of Troy is powerful, I confess;
But I have reason to think ours no lefs.
Your letter, fill'd with promises of all
That men can good, and women pleasant call,
Gives expectation fuch an ample field,
As would move Goddeffes themfelves to yield.
But if I e'er offend great Juno's laws,
Yourself shall be the dear, the only cause:
Either my honour I'll to death maintain,
Or follow you, without mean thonghts of gain.
Not that fo fair a prefent I despise;

We like the gift, when we the giver prize.

But

But 'tis your love moves me, which made you take
Such pains, and run fuch hazards for my fake.
I have perceiv'd (though I dissembled too)
A thousand things that love has made you do.
Your eager eyes would almost dazzle mine,

In which (wild man) yourwanton thoughts would shine.
Sometimes you'd figh, fometimes diforder'd stand,
And with unusual ardor press my hand;
Contrive just after me to take the glass,
Nor would you let the least occafion pass:
When oft I fear'd I did not mind alone,

And blushing fate for things which you have done:
Then murmur'd to myself, He'll for my fake
Do any thing; I hope 'twas no mistake.
Oft have I read within this pleafing grove,
Under my name, thofe charming words, I love.
I, frowning, feem'd not to believe your flame;
But now, alas, am come to write the fame.
If I were capable to do amifs,

I could not but be fenfible of this.

For oh! your face has fuch peculiar charms,
That who can hold from flying to your arms?
But what I ne'er can have without offence,
May fome bleft maid poffefs with innocence.
Pleasure may tempt, but virtue more fhould move;
O learn of me to want the thing you love.
What you defire is fought by all mankind :
As you have eyes, fo others are not blind.
Like you they see, like you my charms adore;
They with not lefs, but you dare venture more.

Oh!