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OVID'S EPISTLES, 
 
 TRANSLATED INTO 
 
 ENGLISH VERSE. 
 
 BY E. D. BAYNES, ESQ. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR THOMAS HOOKHAM, JUN. 15, OLD BOND-STREET; 
 AND BALDWIN AND CO. PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1818. 
 

 T. DAVISON, LOMBARD-STREET, WHITEERIARS, LONDON. 
 
 96-845544 
 
TO 
 
 SIR EGERTON RRYDGES, BART 
 
 sD M. P. 
 
 R SIR, 
 
 In the prosecution of the following trans- 
 lation, nothing has given me more sincere 
 pleasure than the prospect of its enabling 
 me to offer a slight, but unaffected tribute, 
 to that happy combination of virtue and 
 talent by which you are so eminently and 
 honourably distinguished. To you, sir, the 
 depth of whose erudition, the patience of 
 whose research, and the variety of whose 
 genius have adorned more than one branch 
 of literature, do I dedicate this first appeal 
 to the indulgence of the public. It may 
 
IV DEDICATION. 
 
 possibly excite surprise, that instead of 
 trying my strength in some light or trivial 
 original piece, I venture on translating the 
 most elegant work of oSl^vfJhe most ele- 
 gant writers of the age in 
 rished. To this I reply, that iFlT 
 lator only bring to his task a knowledge 
 of his author, and a smooth versification, 
 he cannot fail to produce at least a cre- 
 ditable version. Translation may be con- 
 sidered as a fair stepping-stone to a writer 
 dubious of his powers ; if he succeed, he 
 has already breathed himself on the arena, 
 on which he may then hope, with some 
 prospect of victory, to tread as a com- 
 batant If he prove deficient in the 
 poetical qualifications necessary to execute 
 a translation reputably, a good original 
 
DEDICATION. V 
 
 production is an effort of which his talents 
 are wholly incapable. Still, however, it 
 must be confessed, that, to do an author 
 justice, and to make him appear in an- 
 other language, as it may be imagined he 
 himself would have written in it, is a task 
 requiring no little portion of his own spirit 
 and genius. A translation may be tole- 
 rated which, literally rendering the sense 
 of the original in not unharmonious versi- 
 fication, is exempt from fault. But to 
 please, to give satisfaction, more is re- 
 quired ; the performance must have beau- 
 ties, and those, too, without departing 
 from the sense of the text. In the words 
 of Sir John Denham, " poetry is of so 
 subtle a nature, that in pouring it out of 
 one language into another, it will all eva- 
 
VI DEDICATION. 
 
 porate; if a new spirit be not added in 
 the transfusion, there will remain nothing 
 but a caput mortuum" With regard to 
 the manner in which I have executed 
 these Epistles, I shall say nothing; but 
 leave them to swim or sink as the public 
 may decide. Your judgment will doubt- 
 less find in them much to condemn, 
 your indulgence more to excuse, and, let 
 me hope, your impartiality something to 
 approve. But whatever may be your 
 opinion of them, it can neither add to 
 nor diminish the esteem and respect 
 with which I subscribe myself, 
 My dear sir, 
 
 Your most obedient, 
 
 And obliged servant, 
 E. D.BAYNES. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 
 Publius Ovidius Naso, our author, was born 
 at Sulmo, about forty-three years B. C, of an 
 ancient equestrian family. As he was intended 
 for the law, his father early sent him to Athens, 
 to study eloquence, then the chief requisite for 
 that profession; when written laws were less 
 voluminous than at present, and when causes 
 were determined rather by fact than precedent. 
 But his genius led him to court the Muses ; and 
 he soon entirely gave himself to the bent of his 
 inclination. His merits were quickly appre- 
 ciated by the polished and poetical court of 
 the second Csesar. Macer, Horace, Tibullus, 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 Propertius, and the emperor himself, became 
 his familiar friends. He continued to reside 
 at Rome until he incurred the displeasure of 
 his patron, and was banished by him to Tomos, 
 on the Euxine sea, where he died in the fifty- 
 ninth year of his age, A. D. 17. Various rea- 
 sons are assigned for this sudden exile; some 
 suppose that the poet carried on an amour with 
 Livia, the wife of Augustus ; others attribute 
 his disgrace to his accidental discovery of a 
 shameful intrigue between the emperor and 
 his own daughter Julia. He plainly intimates 
 himself, that his offence was that of error only. 
 
 Perdiderunt cum me, duo crimina, carmen et error, 
 Alterius facti culpa silenda mihi est. 
 
 Again, 
 
 Cur aliquid vidi ? cur noxia luminafeci ? 
 Cur imprudenti cognita culpa mihi est ? 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 He tells us also, that the cause of his misfor- 
 tune was then notorious at Rome, though it be 
 now enveloped in such obscurity. The reason 
 declared by Augustus, was the lasciviousness 
 and immorality of his Elegies, and his Art of 
 Love. " Indeed," says Dryden, " they are 
 not to be excused, as being enough to corrupt 
 a larger empire than even that of Rome : yet," 
 he continues, " this may be said in behalf of 
 Ovid, that no man ever treated the passion of 
 love with so much delicacy of thought and ex- 
 pression, or searched so philosophically into its 
 nature, as he. In these epistles, particularly, re- 
 collecting that the general character of women 
 is modesty, he has taken a most becoming care 
 that his amorous expressions go no further 
 than virtue may allow, and therefore may be 
 read by matrons without a blush." Of all the 
 works of Ovid, the Epistles are the most beau- 
 
 b 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 tiful, and the least exceptionable. In no pro- 
 duction of any other author are the force and 
 violence of the tender passions so truly and 
 naturally described ; even their faults arise 
 from the luxuriancy of the author's fancy. 
 He is always unable to resist a quaint conceit, 
 often going out of his way for a good thing, 
 and will rather disfigure a passage by its in- 
 sertion than omit it. Thus his heroines are 
 frequently witty even in the paroxysms of grief 
 and anger. As Ariadne for instance : 
 
 Prodita sum causis, una puella tribus. 
 Again : 
 
 Quamque lapis sedes, tarn lapis ipsejui. 
 
 In another place : 
 
 Quid potiusfocerent, quam me mea Zuminajlerent, 
 Postquam desierant vela videre tua ? 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 Yet surely we shall be very ready to excuse 
 the author, whose greatest fault is having too 
 much wit, the very reverse of which may now be 
 complained of with more justice. Of the pre- 
 sent translation I shall only say, that I was in- 
 duced to attempt it by my partiality for the 
 author, and the recollection that the version 
 we have now is by almost as many hands as 
 Epistles, and that, with the exception of Sappho 
 to Phaon, by Pope, and, I think, two others by 
 Dry den, it is in general destitute of the spirit, 
 and, in many instances, even of the sense of 
 the original. Such is the fact : yet I cannot 
 hope that the ill execution of others, however 
 it may have incited me to the attempt, will ex- 
 cuse my failure ; if I merit severity from the 
 critical scourge, I shall doubtless experience 
 it. With diffidence, but not without hope, I 
 offer these seven Epistles to the world : if not 
 
Xll PREFACE. 
 
 the first essay of my pen, they are its first ap- 
 peal to the ordeal of public opinion. I pro- 
 pose to complete the whole twenty-one in 
 twelve months from the present time. The 
 remaining fourteen will form Volumes II. and 
 III., each containing seven Epistles, and will 
 appear, a period, at most, of six months elapsing 
 between the publication of each volume. Vo- 
 lume II. will contain the following epistles : 
 
 Leander to Hero, Hero to Leander, Canace 
 to Macareus, Briseis to Achilles, Hermione to 
 Orestes, Deianira to Hercules, Hypermnestra 
 to Linus. 
 
 Volume III. will consist of Acontius to Cy- 
 dippe, Cydippe to Acontius, Hypsipile to 
 Jason, Medea to Jason, Laodamia to Protesi- 
 laus, Penelope to Ulysses, Phyllis to Demo- 
 phoon. 
 
PREFACE. Xlll 
 
 Whether the three replies of Aulus Sabinus 
 will form a supplementary volume, will depend 
 on the reception of my present task. 
 
 February J, 1818. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Sappho to Phaon 
 
 1 
 
 Paris to Helen 
 
 25 
 
 Helen to Paris 
 
 57 
 
 CEnone to Paris 
 
 85 
 
 Ariadne to Theseus 
 
 101 
 
 Phaedra to Hippolytus 
 
 115 
 
 Dido to iEneas 
 
 133 
 
SAPPHO TO PHAON 
 
THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 SAPPHO, so celebrated for her beauty, her poetical talents, and her amorous 
 disposition, was born in the island of Lesbos, about 600 years before Christ. 
 She was the daughter of Scamandonymus and Cleis. Such was the violence 
 of her tender passions, that many have asserted, that her attachment to several 
 of the Lesbian ladies was of a criminal nature. So famous was she among the 
 Greeks on account of her poetry, that she merited and obtained the appella- 
 tion of the tenth muse. 
 
 Dulcia Mnemosyne demirans carmina Sapphus, 
 Qucesivit decima Pieris undeforet, 
 
 says Antipater Sidonius, and Ausonius 
 
 Lesbia Pieriis Sappho — soror addita musis? 
 
 ETjU.' avrn Xi/jJtxwv 'Aovi^ctv StKccrn. 
 
 Papinius bears testimony of a different nature j 
 
 Stesichorusqueferox, sultusque higressa viriles 
 Nonformidata temeraria Leucade Sappho. 
 
 Whence Horace calls her " mascula Sappho," and whence she acquired the 
 surname of Tribas. She conceived such a passion for Phaon, a youth of Mity- 
 lene in Lesbos, that, upon his deserting her, and departing for Sicily, she 
 resolved to throw herself into the sea, from the Leucadian promontory in 
 Epirus : by which means it was supposed, that people who escaped with life, 
 might be freed from their unfortunate attachment ; but before she makes so 
 rash an attempt, she endeavours to excite his pity by a letter describing her 
 love, her injuries, and her resolution. 
 
SAPPHO TO PHAON. 
 
 Forgetful youth ! when now you first unclose 
 
 These conscious lines, memorial of my woes ; 
 
 Say, does the well-known hand its source proclaim ? 
 
 Or must thou seek the wretched Sappho's name ? 
 
 Chang'd is my verse ! and wouldst thou, Phaon, know 5 
 
 Why now no more my wonted numbers £ow, 
 
 111 suits the sounding lyre a heart in pain l ; 
 
 Deserted love demands a sadder strain. 
 
 I burn ! I burn ! not ripen'd corn so fast, 
 
 When flame the fields before the driving blast. 10 
 
 For ^Etna's plains since Lesbos you resign, 
 
 Not ^Etna's fires are half so fierce as mine. 
 
OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Nor music now, nor verse, avail to please ; 
 
 Both are the pleasures of a mind at ease. 
 
 Nor lonely groves, nor streams that gently flow, 15 
 
 Nor soft society, can soothe my woe. 
 
 My female loves my passions move no more, 
 
 The guilty flames disgust which charm'd before 2 : 
 
 All, all forgot ; the love, ungrateful boy ! 
 
 I bore so many, you alone enjoy. 20 
 
 Oh, how that form, that age, just ripe for love ! 
 
 That heav'nly face, my tortur'd bosom move ! 
 
 Such are your charms, would you the quiver wear, 
 
 And lyre soft-sounding, or the thyrsus bear, 
 
 Phoebus and Bacchus would with envy view 25 
 
 Mistaking thousands kneel and worship you. 
 
 Yet Phoebus lov'd ; and Bacchus, too, has known 
 
 The pangs of love, and sorrows like my own ; 
 
 One sued a Gnossian dame, and one in vain 
 
 Pursu'd fair Daphne, who contemn'd his pain : 30 
 
 Yet neither nymph the gift of song possess'd; 
 
 The sacred sisters dwell in Sappho's breast : 
 
SAPPHO TO PHAON. 5 
 
 Not bold Alcaeus boasts superior praise, 
 
 If his sublimer, mine are softer lays ; 
 
 Remotest regions celebrate our fame ; 85 
 
 The same our country, and our muse the same. 
 
 If heav'n superior charms my face deny, 
 
 My mind more perfect may that want supply ; 
 
 If dark my hue, Andromeda was led, 
 
 A swarthy spouse, to Perseus' bridal bed 3 . 40 
 
 Love's favourite birds in various pairs are seen, 
 
 And brown is match'd with white, and black with green. 
 
 Or dost thou hope, O fairest of mankind * I 
 
 A bride as beauteous as thyself to find ? 
 
 If such thy thought, fond youth, no mortal charms 45 
 
 Can give a consort to thy longing arms. 
 
 The time was once, when you were wont to swear, 
 Forgetful boy ! that I alone was fair ; 
 The joys then mine remembrance yet can tell ; 
 The mind past pleasures recollects too well : 50 
 
 How oft when singing, eager for the bliss, 
 Thy lips have stopp'd my music with a kiss ; 
 
6 OVIDS EPISTLES. 
 
 And, breathing love, by fiercest transports fiYd, 
 
 Have snatch'd the pleasures both alike desirM ; 
 
 In all I pleas'd, and still with love uncloy'd, 55 
 
 I pleas'd the more, as you the more enjoy 'd ; 
 
 When every motion to the raptur'd sight 
 
 Reveafd a charm, and gave a new delight ; 
 
 Till keener transports crown'd the mutual flame, 
 
 And in soft languors sunk the fainting frame. 60 
 
 Now to Sicilian nymphs you breathe your pain ; 
 Why lingers Sappho on the Lesbian plain ? 
 O, would to heav'n that there, whatever strand 
 My Phaon touches, were my native land ! 
 But O beware ! Sicilian maids, restore 65 
 
 The dangerous inmate to his native shore ; 
 Mistrust his tales, nor let his caths deceive 
 Your tender breasts ; 'tis ruin to believe ; 
 For ill his oaths and his false heart agree ; 
 His oaths, Sicilian maids, were sworn to me. 70 
 
 And thou, sweet Venus, who delighfst to reign 
 O'er kindling bosoms on that genial plain, 
 
SAPPHO TO PHAON. 7 
 
 I 
 
 In pity tell me, must thy Sappho's woe 
 
 Admit no period, and no respite know? 
 
 Whilst yet an infant, o'er a parent's bier 75 
 
 I learnt to weep, and dropp'd the early tear ; 
 
 My brother 5 next, to furious love a prey, 
 
 Cast wealth and fame on venal charms away ; 
 
 For plunder now he restless ploughs the main, 
 
 And what his folly lost by crime would gain : 60 
 
 And, since my friendly tongue forewarn'd his fate, 
 
 My pious kindness he repays with hate. 
 
 Nor end my sorrows here ; still doom'd to bear, 
 
 An infant daughter doubles all my care : 
 
 Then thou, my last and worst — inferior ills 85 
 
 May wound the heart, 'tis true — but Phaon kills. 
 
 Behold ! no more my pliant hands entwine 
 
 My tresses now, nor golden bands confine, 
 
 Nor sweet perfumes nor odorous wreaths they know, 
 
 But all disorder'd o'er my shoulders flow : 90 
 
 My arms nor pearls nor sparkling diamonds grace, 
 
 Scorn'd is my dress, neglected is my face : 
 
8 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Whom should I please ? or what avails it now. 
 
 With aching heart, to wear a pleasing brow? 
 
 Since he, my love ! my god ! my only care i 95 
 
 Far from these arms inhales another air. 
 
 Such is my soul ; this warm impassioned frame 
 
 Must ever nourish some consuming flame : 
 
 Sure, at my birth, the fatal sisters gave 
 
 My life to love, and doom'd me passion's slave ; 100 
 
 Or soft pursuits like mine the breast inspire, 
 
 And tune the soul in union with the lyre, 
 
 Still must I suffer, yet adore the smart ; 
 
 Ye gods ! how easy is a woman's heart ! 
 
 Yet, sure, that heavenly form, that face divine, 105 
 
 Have power to move a harder heart than mine ; 
 
 For thee Aurora might revisit earth 6 , 
 
 And burn again for one of mortal birth : 
 
 Thy brighter charms did silver Dian see, 
 
 Endymion had resign'd his place to thee? ; 110 
 
 On Latinos 1 lofty heights had Phaon slept, 
 
 And slow the lingering hours of night had crept : 
 
SAPPHO TO PHAON. 9 
 
 Venus ere this had snatch'd thee to her arms, 
 But fears her Mars might kindle at such charms 8 . 
 
 Nor man, nor boy, in love's delicious prime, 115 
 
 Use, beauteous wonder, use the golden time : 
 Come to this fond embrace, and panting rest 
 Thy heavenly limbs on this desiring breast ; 
 And glow like me ; or, if thou wilt not burn, 
 Receive the love to which you scorn return. 120 
 
 Whilst yet I write, my falling tears deface 
 Th 1 unfinish'd lines, which scarce my fingers trace. 
 And couldst thou go without a last adieu, 
 A parting word, a look, to love so true ? 
 'Twere kind, at least, 'twere decent, to have cried, 125 
 
 Cold as you were, ** Farewell, my Lesbian bride f ' 
 No kiss I gave, no soul-felt tears I shed, 
 Nor knew, unconscious, when my Phaon fled ; 
 At once of you, and every joy bereft, 
 
 To wretched Sappho only wrongs were left ; 130 
 
 No last regard, no parting glance you threw, 
 Nor heard my only charge^ — " My love, be true !" 
 
 c 
 
10 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Now by the Nine, who make my songs their care, 
 And Love, th 1 attendant of thy charms, I swear, 
 
 That then, when first the dreadful truth was told, 1$5 
 
 u 
 
 My freezing blood congeald with sudden cold ; 
 Dried were my eyes, my tongue arrested lay, 
 Nor words, nor tears, could find their wonted way ; 
 Nor beat the heart, nor pour'd the purple tide, 
 Nor heav'd the lungs, but sense and motion died. 140 
 
 But when returning life reviv'd to show 
 My matchless loss, I gave no bounds to woe, 
 But rav'd aloud; with such a frenzy wild, 
 The frantic mother mourns her only child; 
 My cruel brother stands contemptuous near, l/£ 
 
 y And eyes my sorrows with a scornful sneer ; 
 Enjoys my anguish, and insults my pain ; 
 " Thy daughter 9 lives," he cries, ■" why thus complain ?* 
 Heedless of shame, where rage impelPd I flew, 
 And bar'd my bosom to the public view. 150 
 
 Phaon, my lovely care ! my thought by day, 
 My only dream when Night resumes her sway ! 
 
SAPPHO TO PHAON. 11 
 
 More kind than Day, her soft creative reign 
 
 In fancy brings thee to these arms again, 
 
 From climes remote, in all thy beauties bright, 155 
 
 In sweet, but transient visions of delight : 
 
 Then round your neck my eager arms I fling, 
 
 And you as fondly to my bosom cling ; 
 
 My quivering lips with fancied kisses burn ; 
 
 With equal heat those kisses you return ; 100 
 
 Fast pours the quick'ning blood, and accents low, 
 
 That speak my wishes, in soft murmurs flow ; 
 
 Till joys succeed, which shame forbids to write, 
 
 But fancy acts them all, and all delight. 
 
 But ah ! too soon, with dawning morn depart 165 
 
 Sleep from my eyes, and pleasure from my heart ; 
 
 Frantic I rise, and, as by furies torn, 
 
 With hair disorder'd, o'er the fields am borne ; 
 
 In caves and well-known grots I seek repose, 
 
 Once scenes of joys, now witnesses of woes; 170 
 
 The conscious caves with throbbing heart I view, 
 
 The conscious caves my flowing tears renew ; 
 
lg OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Ah ! once how valued, to their native green ! 
 
 Mygdonian marbles in my eyes were mean. 
 
 The grove, where oft our careless limbs we spread, 175 
 
 Our shade the branches, and the leaves our bed, 
 
 I view indeed, but thee I find not there, 
 
 Lord of my soul, and object of my care ! 
 
 Depriv'd of thee, no beauties grace the shade, 
 
 Its laurels languish, and its myrtles fade; 180 
 
 Too soon, alas ! the fatal cause I knew, 
 
 Grace of the groves ! those beauties fled with you. 
 
 There on the spot, where oft, to joys resigri'd, 
 
 We lay, and left our forms impressed behind, 
 
 I cast me down, where still your print appears, 185 
 
 Grow to the spot, and bathe the ground with tears : 
 
 The leafless forests seem my grief to share, 
 
 And birds are hush'd, as conscious of my care ; 
 
 Sad Progne's 10 notes alone are heard complain 
 
 Of impious vengeance, and of Itys slain ; 190 
 
 With her I join, like her by anguish torn, 
 
 But she a' son, and I a lover mourn. 
 
SAPPHO TO PHAON. 13 
 
 A fount there is, whose crystal waves declare 
 Some watchful deity's peculiar care ; 
 
 Its arms above, a watery lotos throws 195 
 
 Wide o'er the stream, and shades it as it flows ; 
 The banks below are dress'd in mossy green, 
 And the smooth flood reflects the placid scene ; 
 Here as I lay, all breathless with my woes, 
 Before my eyes the guardian Nais rose : 200 
 
 " Since you," she said, " a prey to vain desires, 
 " Consume, sad nymph, with unrequited fires ; 
 " That ocean seek, — this only hope remains, — 
 " Where Phoebus' shrine o'erlooks Ambracian plains, 
 " Leucadian rocks : hence, erst his tortur'd breast 205 
 
 " When Pyrrha n fir'd, Deucalion plung'd for rest ; 
 u Boldly the lover headlong sought the main, 
 " And rose again, delivered from his pain : 
 " No breast so deep the fatal dart can feel, 
 "But the fam'd waves the raging passion heal ; 210 
 
 " Still holds the law ; the far Leucadian deep 
 " Seek, wretched fair, nor fear the fatal leap. 1 ' 
 
14 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 She said, and sunk ; but I aghast arise 
 
 With beating bosom, and with streaming eyes : 
 
 We go, ye nymphs ; we go where fate requires, 215 
 
 Strong are our fears, but stronger our desires : 
 
 We go, ye nymphs ; support me, gentle air, 
 
 And, Love, be thou to aid a lover there ; 
 
 Spread thy soft wings around, and kindly save 
 
 Thy hapless Sappho from the ruthless wave ; 220 
 
 Lest foul reproach to future times await 
 
 The guilty waters, stain'd with Sappho's fate. 
 
 There, first, the gift he scorn'd not to inspire, 
 To Phoebus thus I'll dedicate my lyre ; 
 This, Phcebus, Sappho consecrates to you, 225 
 
 For such a gift to such a god is due. 
 
 But why, O cruel author of my grief, 
 From distant seas must Sappho seek relief? 
 A speedier aid thy kindness can insure ; 
 Return, bright youth, thy presence is my cure. 230 
 
 And canst thou yield me to so dire a fate ? 
 Can Sappho's death be caus'd by Phaon's hate ? 
 
SAPPHO TO PHAON. 15 
 
 Must rugged rocks this tender form deface ? 
 
 And raging seas succeed thy soft embrace ? 
 
 Nor rocks nor seas can with that heart compare, °,So 
 
 For thou wouldst ruin whom those seas may spara. 
 
 Yet this the breast which once could Phaon fire, 
 
 And once the Nine disdain'd not to inspire : 
 
 Oh ! that they now would lend their wonted aid, 
 
 And teach my tongue the secret to persuade ! 240 
 
 Nor art, nor fancy now my pow'rs retain, 
 
 And wilder^ reason faints beneath the pain. 
 
 No more, alas ! my magic numbers flow ; 
 
 My lyre is hush'd, my voice untun'd by woe. 
 
 Ye Lesbian maids, who hope the nuptial hour ; 245 
 
 Ye Lesbian brides, who own the genial powV ; 
 Ye Lesbian females, to my shame so long 
 Source of my flames, and subjects of my song, 
 Cease now to crowd your sad musician round ; 
 These hands no more the chorded lyre shall sound ; 250 
 The art which pleas'd you with my Phaon fled ; 
 Wretch that I am, my Phaon have I said ! 
 
16 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Would you that Sappho should resume her strain, 
 
 Restore its subject to these arms again ; 
 
 With Phaon comes my wit, with Phaon goes, 255 
 
 Ebbs in his absence, in his presence flows ; 
 
 But he nor hears my sighs, nor heeds my care, 
 
 My fruitless words the winds disperse in air ; 
 
 Those winds, if tears, if pray'rs could ought avail, 
 
 Should waft propitious his returning sail : 260 
 
 Forgetful youth ! if you again decree 
 
 These longing eyes thy lovely form to see, 
 
 Oh haste thy wish'd return ! unkind delay, 
 
 Neglectful boy, is fatal as thy stay : 
 
 Oh haste to sea ! for thee the tides shall flow, 265 
 
 For thee soft zephyrs shall spontaneous blow ; 
 
 Venus shall smooth her parent main for thee, 
 
 And Cupid guard thee o'er the swelling sea, 
 
 Shall guide thy bark, propitious to thy pray'r,— 
 
 A lover must be Love's peculiar care. 270 
 
 But if, indeed, the Fates prepare the worst, 
 
 And wretched Sappho by thy hate is curst ; 
 
SAPPHO TO PHAON. 17 
 
 If fly thou wilt, (can heav'n thy flight decree ? 
 
 Alas ! can Sappho merit flight from thee ?) 
 
 These lines, at least, my last resolves relate ; 257 
 
 Leucadia , s waters shall decide my fate. 
 
norfw 
 
 ■ SBodw io baa 
 
 ojjQ v> 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Note l 9 page 3, line 7. 
 /// suits the sounding lyre a heart in pain. 
 
 Some writers ascribe the invention of the lyric measure, as well 
 as of the lyre plectrum, to this Sappho ; but Suidas and iElian 
 assert that two poetesses of this name existed 5 to the elder of 
 whom, called also Erexia, they attribute the above discoveries. 
 She flourished in the time of Alcaeus, Pittacus, and Tarquinius 
 Priscus ; the other, many years posterior, was of Mitylene. It 
 was the latter who was so desperately enamoured of Phaon, and 
 who deserved to be called the tenth muse; and of whose poetry 
 two highly beautiful fragments have been preserved to our time. 
 
 Note 2, page 4, line 6\ 
 The guilty Jlames disgust, ivhich charm 9 d before. 
 
 * c Quod supra mulierum conditionem in amores arserit Sappho: 
 cum non modo viros perdite amaverit, sed aliarum quoque rau- 
 
20 NOTES. 
 
 lierum tribas fuerit, id est, insultando eas fricaret." I have fol- 
 lowed Pope, in omitting to translate the two dull lines enume- 
 rating these female loves of Sappho. 
 
 Note 3, page 5, line 8. 
 
 Andromeda was ied 9 
 A siuarthy spouse, to Perseus' bridal bed. 
 
 Andromeda was the daughter of Cepheus, king of ^Ethiopia. 
 It was directed by the oracle of Jupiter Ammon, that she should 
 be exposed naked to a sea-monster, in order to appease the re- 
 sentment of Neptune, who had deluged the kingdom, because 
 her mother Cassiope had boasted that she was more beautiful 
 than the Nereids. (The heathen gods were a very irritable 
 race). Andromeda was accordingly bound to a rock, and would 
 have soon proved a bonne bouche to the monster, had not Perseus, 
 returning from his conquest of the Gorgons, seen and been cap- 
 tivated by her unshrouded charms. He gallantly delivered her 
 from her danger, and the lady soon discovered too grateful a 
 disposition to defraud him of his reward, which, by the by, he 
 prudently stipulated for beforehand. 
 
 Note 4, page 5, line 11. 
 Or dost thou hope, O fairest of mankind ? 
 
 Phaon, who was originally a boatman of Mitylene, having 
 carried Venus, who presented herself to him in the form of an 
 
NOTES. 21 
 
 old woman, from Lesbos to the coast of Asia, was presented by 
 her, as a reward for his trouble, with a small box of a certain 
 ointment, with which no sooner had he anointed himself, than 
 he became the most beautiful man of his age. 
 
 Note 5, page 7> line 5. 
 My brother, next, to furious love a prey. 
 
 Charaxus, the brother of Sappho, fell desperately in love with 
 the courtesan Rhodope, on whom he squandered all his posses- 
 sions, and was reduced to support himself by piracy. 
 
 Note 6, page 8, line 15. 
 For thee Aurora might revisit earth. 
 
 Aurora was by no means the least condescending of those 
 tender-hearted personages, the goddesses of 'the Greek poets. 
 She visited the woods of Hymettus for Cephalus, and carried 
 off Tithonus into heaven. 
 
 Note /, page S, line 1 8. 
 Thy brighter charms did silver Dian see. 
 
 The writers who hold that Diana was the goddess of chastity, 
 certainly belie her character. If I mistake not, this virgin god- 
 dess was the mother of a large family : Endymion, Pan, and 
 
22 NOTES. 
 
 Orion, were among her favourites. Perhaps, however, she pa- 
 tronised chastity, as many modern Maecenases learning— that 
 is, without possessing much herself. 
 
 Note 8, page 9, line 2. 
 
 Venus ere this had snatch'd thee to her arms, 
 But fears her Mars might kindle at such charms, 
 
 I have not given the precise sense of the original here for a 
 very obvious reason. 
 
 Note 9, page 10, line 16. 
 Thy daughter lives, he cries, why thus complain ? 
 
 I am ignorant who was the father of this daughter of Sappho. 
 
 Note 10, page 12, line 1?. 
 Sad Progne*s notes alone are heard complain. 
 
 With the true spirit of the author, in his Metamorphoses, 
 Pope here converts the swallow into a nightingale. 
 
 Note 11, page 13, line 14. 
 
 Hence, erst his toriurd breast 
 WhenPyrrhaJird, Deucalion plung 'd for rest. 
 
 I know of no other author who mentions this leap of Deuca- 
 lion— -that Noah of the Greeks. He was the son of Prometheus, 
 
NOTES. %& 
 
 and married Pyrrha, who was the daughter of Epimetheus. In 
 his age, the impiety of mankind having exhausted the forbear- 
 ance of Jupiter, he determined on the destruction of the whole 
 race j and for this purpose laid the earth under water. Deuca- 
 lion saved himself, with his wife, by building a ship ; in which, 
 having been cast about at the mercy of the winds and waves 
 for nine days, he at last landed on Mount Parnassus. Deucalion 
 and Pyrrha now finding themselves alone in the world, consulted 
 the oracle of Themis, respecting some method of speedily re- 
 peopling the globe. They were commanded to throw behind 
 them the bones of their grandmother j by which, understanding 
 the stones of the earth, they proceeded to do as directed. The 
 stones thrown by Deucalion became men, those by Pyrrha, 
 women. Pausanias tells us, that the waters of Deucalion's 
 deluge returned into the earth, through a small hole in Attica, 
 which he asserts that he saw. Ovid says nothing of Deucalion's 
 vessel j but relates, that he saved himself by ascending to the 
 top of Parnassus. Hyginus changes the scene to Mount JEtna. 
 in Sicily. ^ Ma ^ fe ^ ^ ^^o"! ta& 
 
 M 
 
PARIS TO HELEN 
 
THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 Whilst Hecuba, the wife of Priam, was pregnant, she dreamt that she was de- 
 livered of a flaming torch, which set on fire the whole city of Troy. — Priam 
 alarmed, consulted the Oracle on. the occasion, and received for answer, that 
 Hecuba should bear a son, who should prove the destruction of his country. 
 To avoid the danger which threatened, Priam ordered the infant to be put to 
 death as soon as born : but Hecuba, moved by maternal affection, privately 
 sent the child to the shepherds of Mount Ida. When Paris, or, as he was 
 afterwards called, Alexander, arrived at manhood, his beauty captivated the 
 nymph (Enone, whom he married. Not long after this occurred the contest 
 of Juno, Minerva, and Venus, for the prize of beauty — on account of the 
 golden apple, on which the goddess of discord had inscribed, detur pulchriori, 
 or, " let it be given to the fairest." The gods, unwilling to decide in so deli- 
 cate a controversy, referred the decision to the judgment of Paris. The rivals 
 accordingly appeared to him naked on Mount Ida : Juno offered him a crown 
 as a recompense for his awarding her the prize. Minerva proposed military 
 glory, but Venus .promised the most beautiful woman of the age, and obtained 
 the apple. After this, being discovered, and acknowledged by his father, he 
 was sent on an embassy to Greece, in order to obtain, as some say, the resti- 
 tution of his aunt Hesione, who had been carried off by Hercules, and given 
 by him in marriage to his friend Telamon. At Sparta, Paris was honourably 
 received by Menelaus, and became desperately enamoured of Helen his wife. 
 Menelaus being called to Crete on affairs of importance, Paris is here sup- 
 posed to avail himself of the opportunity afforded by his absence to declare 
 his passion for Helen. This epistle contains every persuasion likely to operate 
 upon a female mind. The violence of his own passion, and the splendour of 
 her beauty, are forcibly depicted; he offers her the riches of the richest 
 country then known, promises her the admiration of the world, and concludes 
 by endeavouring to excite contempt for her husband, and entreating her to 
 accompany him to Troy. 
 
PARIS TO HELEN. 
 
 The health I send, in kind return bestow* 
 
 Or you denying, I can never know ; 
 
 Now would I, first, my soul's distraction name, 
 
 If words were wanting to declare my flame ; 
 
 But why relate what never was conceaFd ? 5 
 
 Or own a fact which has itself reveal'd ? 
 
 I had not lov'd, o'er love could art avail, 
 
 Nor dar'd to sue where I could fear to fail r 
 
 But fierce as rising flames, no less desire 
 
 Itself betrays, than native light the fire: 10 
 
 Speak if I must, and language must unfold 
 
 The truth my actions have already told ; 
 
 If I must name the pangs for thee I prove, 
 
 One word can speak them, and that word is — love^ 
 
28 OVID'S EPISTLES, 
 
 With love I rage— so slight a sound contains 15 
 
 My fondest wishes, and my fiercest pains : 
 
 For mercy, read ; — if crime my passion be — 
 
 Be just — and blame thy charms— but pity me; 
 
 Nor, reading, frown — let wonted smiles adorn 
 
 That face, which better love becomes than scorn : 20 
 
 Now may I dare to hope, nor need I fear, 
 
 If yet you read — you read with looks severe ; 
 
 Can she, who deigns in pity to peruse 
 
 A lover's plaint, a lover's suit refuse ? 
 
 Be just, ye gods ! nor give me to complain 9,5 
 
 Of trust betray'd, and heaVn believ'd in vain : 
 
 For know, — nor err unconscious of the crime,— 
 
 By heavVs command I left my native clime. 
 
 A good, by Venus promis'd, I pursue, 
 
 And great her promise; but, though great my due, 30 
 
 In charms the giver and the gift agree, 
 
 For, source of all my hopes — she promis , d thee ! 
 
 Secur'd by her, I cross'd the swelling tide, 
 
 At once my cause of going, and my guide : 
 
PARIS TO HELEN. 29 
 
 Calm, at her word, obedient Ocean flows, 35 
 
 For still she rules the waves from whence she rose. 
 So may she hear me, and, with equal ease, 
 The stormy main, and stormy soul appease ! 
 'Tis hers the waves to lull, to soothe the mind, t 
 And give my vows the port desir'd to find. 40 
 
 . I burn, 'tis true, but found not here the flame ; 
 From distant realms, already lost, I came ; 
 Nor tempests me, nor casual error bore 
 A guest reluctant to this happy shore ; 
 Nor came I here your cities to behold, 45 
 
 Nor meanly led by sordid lust for gold ; 
 Far richer towns our Phrygian realms adorn ; 
 Nor need I wealth, to wide dominion born : 
 Hither I came, for ever in my view 
 
 Your fancied form — and came for only you ; 50 
 
 Thee beauteous Venus promis'd to my arms, 
 And thee I lov'd, ere witness of thy charms ; 
 Ere yet my eyes thy wond'rous beauties knew, 
 My raptur'd soul a thousand visions drew ; 
 
30 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 So great thy power, ere seen, thy very name 55 
 
 Could fire my bosom, and my blood inflame : 
 
 So, from some certain hand, the fatal dart 
 
 Is aim'd from far, and fix'd within the heart. 
 
 So fate has will'd ; and lest you strive with fate, 
 
 Attend, fair nymph ! the truth -my words relate. 60 
 
 My mother now, the wonted time delay'd, 
 
 Invok'd in vain divine Lucina's aid ; 
 
 And dreamt, as rapt in visions she repos'd, 
 
 Her bursting womb a flaming torch disclosed ; 
 
 Amaz'd she rose, and yet with horror cold, 65 
 
 The seeming portent to my father told ; 
 
 Hence doting sages warn'd my easy sire, 
 
 That Troy should burn — and Paris be the fire ; 
 
 A fire indeed, which nothing can conceal, 
 
 The vision spoke — the fire which now I feel. TO 
 
 For this, obscure, my earlier days were led 
 
 In savage woods, a humble shepherd bred ; 
 
 » 
 Yet there, the native greatness of my mind 
 
 Burst out, and markM me of no vulgar kind ; 
 
PARIS TO HELEN. 81 
 
 A gloomy shade midst Ida's valleys lies, 75 
 
 Where darker firs, and broader oaks arise ; 
 
 There, nor then- flocks the mountain-shepherds lead, 
 
 Nor there their goats nor lab'ring oxen feed ; 
 
 Hence, as my eyes the various scene survey, 
 
 Where, stretch'd below, seas, shores, and cities lay ; 80 
 
 (Scarce can I hope belief) — beneath my feet 
 
 A sudden tremor shook the sylvan seat. 
 
 May heav'n permit to speak — nor now decree 
 
 A crime to tell what it allow'd to see ! 
 
 For there, these eyes, resplendent in his hand 85 
 
 His glittering wand, saw Maia's offspring stand, 
 
 With wings that wav'd, and by his side were seen 
 
 Minerva, Juno, and the Cyprian queen ; 
 
 These when I saw, the blood my face forsook, 
 
 And all my frame with rooted horror shook ; 90 
 
 When thus, with smiles, the god — " Dismiss thy fear, 
 
 " And know, no mean occasion sent me here; 
 
 " "Tis thine, to end the contests of the skies, 
 
 <c And say, of these, whose charms deserve the prize : 
 
32 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 " Decide the strife ; 'tis Jove's commands I bear," 95 
 
 He said, and instant vanish'd into air. 
 
 At this my soul grew strong, my horror past, 
 
 And to the task my wond'ring eyes I cast : 
 
 Grac'd with such charms was every form divine, 
 
 The doubtful palm scarce judgment could assign; 100 
 
 So beauteous each, perplex'd I saw with pain, 
 
 That all deserv'd, what only one could gain ; 
 
 Yet was there one, who most my bosom sway'd, 
 
 To whom my soul sincerer homage paid ; 
 
 Her would you know — requires it to declare 1 05 
 
 The bright inspirer of my present care ? — 
 
 Nor bribes were wanting to support their claim ; 
 
 Saturnia kingdoms, Pallas offer'd fame ; 
 
 In doubt I stood, till heav'nly Venus broke 
 
 The short suspense, and thus, resistless, spoke: — 110 
 
 ■" Such dangerous gifts reject — fond Paris, cease 
 
 " To covet honours, where the price is peace: 
 
 " Our gift, nor toils attend, nor cares annoy, 
 
 <( Source of soft pleasures, and perpetual joy ; 
 
PARIS TO HELEN. 33 
 
 " Be mine the prize; and, blushing to thy bed, 115 
 
 " Fair Leda's fairer daughter shall be led." 
 She said, and victor with the prize withdrew, 
 Won by her gift, and to her beauty due. 
 
 Now, fate for evils past propitious grown,. 
 The latent secret of my birth is known ; 120 
 
 And Troy, rejoicing honours due to pay, 
 With festal splendors celebrates the day : 
 As I for thee, so Phrygians fairest dames 
 For me all languish'd, and with equal flames ; 
 'Tis yours the vows of many to retain I£5 
 
 In pleasing bonds, and undisputed reign : 
 Nor these alone; e'en nymphs divine have sued, 
 And conscious Ida mutual pleasures view'd ; 
 But hopes of thee, since first my soul possest, 
 That hope alone has banish'd all the rest ; 130 
 
 For, waking, fancy brought thee to my eyes, 
 And dreams again, when day forsook the skies : 
 What must thy presence ? when thy very name 
 At such a distance caus'd so fierce a flame. 
 
34 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 And now, no longer able to endure 135 
 
 The growing pain, I sought the promis'd cure : 
 For this, our Phrygian groves were hewn away, 
 And Ida's shades were conscious of the day ; 
 Whilst lofty forests, late the mountain's pride, 
 Unseated, trembled on the flowing tide. 140 
 
 The masts we raise, extend the lofty yard, 
 And painted gods the finish'd vessels guard ; 
 Cause of my voyage, love's propitious queen 
 And quiver'd Cupid on my own were seen. 
 Now all complete, and ready to unbind 145 
 
 The swelling canvas to the fav'ring wind, 
 My mother urg'd with frantic pray'rs my stay, 
 And weeping sire forbad the destin'd way ; 
 But, chief, Cassandra, heaving in her breast 1 , 
 The wonted fury, thus its voice exprest: 150 
 
 " Stay, frantic youth ; you headlong rush on fate, 
 " Nor know what evils your return await ; 
 " By angry gods this purpose is decreed ; 
 " To raging flames these fatal waters lead." — 
 
PARIS TO HELEN. 35 
 
 True were her words, — and found the promis'd fires, 155 
 The prescient rage but meant my fierce desires. 
 Unmov , d by all, before the driving wind 
 My sails I spread, and left their plaints behind ; 
 Here, when arriv'd, so heav'n his bosom sway'd, 
 Your easy husband genial honours paid ; _ 160 
 
 Blind as he was, our coming hail'd, nor thought 
 How little Sparta for itself I sought ; 
 All objects else with unconcern I view, 
 Who languish'd, madd'ning, for the sight of you : 
 But oh ! when first these eyes thy beauties blest, 16*5 
 
 The crimson torrent kindled in my breast : 
 Confus'd I stood, my soul the sense forsook, 
 And all my frame with fix'd emotion shook: 
 With such a form — her every grace the same- 
 Bright Cytherea to her triumph came : 170 
 Then, hadst thou shone among the rival three, 
 Not Venus could have borne the palm from thee. 
 Earth's farthest regions celebrate thy name : 
 The bounded globe alone can bound thy fame ; 
 
m OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Unequal task ! by words such charms to paint; 175 
 
 Description fails, and eloquence is faint ; 
 
 More than e'er glowing fancy fram'd, I find, 
 
 The wond'rous truth has left report behind ; 
 
 Whilst time endures, the sun shall never shine 
 
 On beauties worthy to be rank'd with thine. 180 
 
 For this, when Theseus sought a bride to find % 
 
 He fix'd on thee, as fairest of thy kind ; 
 
 E'en to thy country's sports he forc'd his way ; 
 
 There urg'd his claim, and made thee there his prey : 
 
 So great a prize deserv'd so great a deed : 185 
 
 Fool that he was, a good so gain'd, to cede ; 
 
 So — hadst thou been from my embraces borne ! 
 
 Alive— and seen thee from my bosom torn ! — 
 
 No ! — ere these abject hands their prize restor'd, 
 
 My heart's warm blood had dy'd the reeking sword : 190 
 
 But grant 'twere so, these arms had first been blest 
 
 With love's soft dues, nor lost thee unpossest : 
 
 That prize, compell'd reluctant to resign, — 
 
 The joys which haste could snatch, had yet been mine. 
 
PARIS TO HELEN. 37 
 
 Oh ! could you all my pains, my passion know, — 195 
 
 The tides of love and life together flow ; 
 
 For love can only pass when life is past ; 
 
 My present flames shall perish with my last. 
 
 When erst on Ide the palm of charms divine 
 
 These eyes adjudg'd, the glorious prize was thine ; 200 
 
 Thee — when I fear'd the greater good to lose, 
 
 My beating heart could offer'd crowns refuse ; 
 
 When thy bright image o'er my fancy came, 
 
 My soul disdain'd so mean a gift as fame : 
 
 And still with rapture hails the first decree, 205 
 
 For what are crowns or fame compar'd to thee ? 
 
 Nor worthy only to be thus preferred, 
 
 But cheaply earn'd through perils yet unheard : 
 
 Then, oh ! do thou my anxious hopes sustain, 
 
 Nor be, though less than due, my merits vain. 210 
 
 Nor came I here by hopes presumptuous led, 
 
 A needy wretch, unworthy of thy bed : 
 
 From Jove I spring ; on Asia's wealthy plain 
 
 Extended regions own my father's reign ; 
 
38 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Unnumber 1 d towns his wide dominions hold ; 81 5 
 
 With glittering streets, and temples roof 'd with gold : 
 
 There, glorious labour of Apollo's lyre 3 , 
 
 Immortal task ! our Ilian walls aspire : 
 
 How oft, when gazing on the splendid scene, 
 
 Yourself shall own your native Sparta mean ; 220 
 
 Not that for this, your Spartan shores I scorn, 
 
 For blest that region which such charms adorn ; 
 
 But you, like heav'n itself, should be ador'd, 
 
 And subject earth its richest gifts afford ; 
 
 And, 'midst inferior beauties, proudly shine, 225 
 
 In dress as splendid, as in charms divine ; 
 
 Though blest the spot which gave such beauty birth, 
 
 Thy native realms are narrow for thy worth ; 
 
 All aids of dress our Phrygian matrons know ; 
 
 Phrygia, whose youths in gaudy purple glow: 230 
 
 Then, living wonder of the Spartan name ! 
 
 Let Phrygian love some touch of pity claim ; 
 
 A Phrygian he, of our illustrious line % 
 
 Who pours at heav'nly feasts immortal wine ; 
 
PARIS TO HELEN. 6\) 
 
 A Phrygian, too, divine Aurora's love 5 235 
 
 From Ida's valleys snatch'd to heav'n above : 
 
 Bright Venus next, inflam'd by Phrygian charms, 
 
 Descending, languish'd in Anchises' arms 6 . 
 
 Nor think I, e'en were the decision thine, 
 
 Your husband's merits can compare with mine ; 240 
 
 From us, the sun ne'er veil'd his radiant head 7 , 
 
 Nor from my father's feasts with horror fled : 
 
 My grandsire reek'd not with a parent's blood, 
 
 Nor names with slaughter the Myrtoan flood 8 ; 
 
 No ancestor of mine for crimes is curst, 245 
 
 Midst flowing streams to rave with fatal thirst 9 : 
 
 He strives, vain hope, by thy descent divine, 
 
 To cast a splendour on so base a line ; 
 
 He — gods ! a wretch unworthy of such charms, 
 
 Whole nights can press thee in his hated arms ; 250 
 
 He melts in bliss, and riots in delight ; 
 
 I scarce at table gain a moment's sight : 
 
 E'en then my eyes 'twere wiser to refrain, 
 
 The view but serves to aggravate my pain ; 
 
40 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Oh ! may such pangs as then my bosom knows, 255 
 
 Attend the table of my worst of foes ! 
 
 Oft as his hands thy ivory neck have prest, 
 
 A flood of fire has kindled in my breast : 
 
 All pale with rage, confus'd I then appear, 
 
 And curse the cruel fate which sent me here ; 260 
 
 But when thy lips he touch'd — his every kiss 
 
 To me was poison — as to him 'twas bliss ; 
 
 Before my eyes the lifted bowl I threw, 
 
 Then cast it down again — for hiding you : 
 
 When o'er thy form his eager arms have hung, 265 
 
 Th' untasted food has to my palate clung ; 
 
 Oft groans have spoke the pain I could not hide, 
 
 And you as oft with scornful smiles replied ; 
 
 Oft, when I strove in wine to quench desire, 
 
 I found that wine was adding flame to fire ; 270 
 
 Oft as my aching eyes the sight refrain, 
 
 To thee, unconscious, they revert again : 
 
 'Tis death, 'tis madness^ such a curse to view, 
 
 But worse than both to keep my eyes from you ; 275 
 
PARIS TO HELEN. 41 
 
 Conscious of danger near, I strive in vain 275 
 
 Within the laboring passion to restrain ; 
 
 For, spite of art, the fierce emotions rise, 
 
 And burst more furious through the thin disguise : 
 
 Nor need I speak, since every pang you see; 
 
 Oh ! would that they were known to only thee : 280 
 
 Oft have I turnM my weeping eyes away, 
 
 Lest tears the secret to your lord betray ; 
 
 How oft when copious draughts have made me bold, 
 
 My feigning tongue has many a love-tale told ; 
 
 Thine were the charms which then my words exprest, 285 
 
 And fancied names my own soft suit addrest ; 
 
 Ourselves I drew — to us those tales apply ; — 
 
 That fair wert thou, that faithful lover, I. 
 
 Then wine I feign, my freedom to excuse, 
 
 And softer words, and warmer language use ; 290 
 
 Once, from your breast your loosen'd garment fell, 
 
 And falling bar^d to view your bosom^s swell ; 
 
 Ye gods ! what charms ! nor milk, nor purer snow, 
 
 Nor downy swans such wondVous whiteness know ; 
 
 G 
 
42 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Whilst, all confused, I gaz'd with vacant look, 295 
 
 The falling bowl my failing hand forsook. 
 Oft, when your child your fond embrace has known, 
 I press her lips just recent from your own ; 
 At times reclin'd, of pleasures past I sing, 
 And speaking signs, and meaning glances fling : 300 
 
 Oft have I tried with prayrs and bribes, in vain, 
 Some kind attendant of your suit to gain ; 
 But they all hope forbid, all aid deny, 
 And in the midst of my entreaties fly. 
 Oh ! would the gods some dangerous strife ordain, 305 
 
 Some labour worthy such a prize to gain ; 
 As he who dar'd, succeeding to the place 
 "Of perished lovers, try the fatal race 10 ; 
 Nor shunn'd the stern conditions of the strife, 
 But chose with joy for love to hazard life. 310 
 
 So Pelops, too, the fear of death defied, 
 And won, through equal risks, his beauteous bride. 
 So, when his arm the baffled river fled, 
 His prize in triumph fierce Alcides led ,1 . 
 
PARIS TO HELEN. 43 
 
 Then, had you all my fond devotion known, 315 
 
 And love and merit had at once been shown ; 
 
 Now, nought remains, but, suppliant, to entreat 
 
 And prostrate press thy knees, and kiss thy feet 
 
 Oh ! form'd all hearts resistless to engage, 
 
 Grace of thy line, and glory of thy age ; 320 
 
 Wert thou not sprung from Jove, e'en Jove might sue 
 
 To charms like thine, and leave his heav'n for you ; 
 
 Or blest with thee, I hail my native plain, 
 
 Or Spartan earth my ashes shall contain : 
 
 No trivial wound has slightly touch'd my heart, 325 
 
 My scorching entrails feel the raging dart : 
 
 True was the doom inspir'd Cassandra sung ; 
 
 The threaten^ arrow has my bosom stung. / 
 
 Already shown, the will of heaVn is plain, 
 
 Then cease to strive, where human strife is vain ; 330 
 
 Receive, obedient, love by fate design'd, 
 
 So shall success thy fondest wishes find : 
 
 More could I say, but what remains untold, 
 
 The tongue can better than the pen unfold : 
 
44 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 From every doubt your anxious mind to free, 335 
 
 This night, fair Helen, share thy couch with me ; 
 
 Blush you at this ? and fondly fear to wrong 
 
 The doting wretch to whom those joys belong ? 
 
 Ah, silly Helen ! hop'st thou to unite 
 
 A soul unfeeling with a form so bright ? 340 
 
 Or change that face, or be as fate design'd ; 
 
 For heav'n, which made thee fair, has made thee kind ; 
 
 Virtue and beauty seldom can agree, 
 
 And rare those charms which are from folly free ; 
 
 Who move not love, may be at pleasure chaste, 345 
 
 But nature thee with choicer gifts has grac'd : 
 
 Then, be its boon, as heav'n design'd, employ'd, 
 
 And use those beauties made to be enjoy'd. 
 
 If crime it be, such crimes the thundVer please,. 
 
 And Venus joys in venial faults like these ; 350 
 
 Had cold Diana been observ'd alone, 
 
 The wondering world had ne'er thy beauties known ; 
 
 If ought of nature in descent revive, 
 
 Vain hopes you nourish, if with love you strive ; 
 
PARIS TO HELEN. 45 
 
 What, warm in youth ! with matchless beauty grac'd ! 355 
 
 And sprung from Leda, and from Jove, yet chaste ! 
 
 When mine you are, be then from error free ; 
 
 In Troy be chaste, or sin alone with me ; 
 
 But now bright Venus prompts us to the crime* 
 
 And laughing bids us use the golden time ; 860 
 
 Your lord, as conscious of my love, withdraws, 
 
 And pleads by deeds, if not by words, my cause : 
 
 Was this his only time to visit Crete ? 
 
 Such fools are proper objects of deceit. 
 
 " Do you," he said, as thy fair hand he prest, 365 
 
 " For me, be mindful of our Trojan guest." 
 
 But you, oh heaven ! nor his commands obey, 
 
 Nor any care, nor any kindness pay ; 
 
 Oh ! can you dream that such a wretch as he 
 
 Knows the bright prize he holds, in holding thee ? 370 
 
 He heeds thee not 5 nor deems thee worth his care, 
 
 Who with a stranger trusts a form so fair : 
 
 E'en if in vain these obvious facts appeal, 
 
 And vain be all I say, and all I feel, 
 
46 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Though love or pity dwell not in thy breast, 375 
 
 Or I my passion never had exprest, 
 
 He, senseless fool, would force us to unite, 
 
 And use occasion in our own despite : 
 
 Ourselves alone such folly can excuse, 
 
 'Twere worse — that folly if we fail'd to use. 880 
 
 Whole nights for thee a widow'd couch remains ; 
 
 Me, too, unblest, a widow'd couch contains ; 
 
 Those lonely hours with me, bright Helen, share, 
 
 And glowing noon shall not with night compare ; 
 
 Then shall my vows eternal union plight, 385 
 
 And heav'n be witness of the nuptial rite ; 
 
 Then shall at last your tender soul incline 
 
 To share my flight, and be for ever mine : 
 
 Nor fear reproach, — be only mine the blame,— 
 
 And yours, at once, your pleasure and your fame : 390 
 
 Nor is example wanting ; 'tis no more 
 
 Than Theseus, and your brothers did before ; 
 
 Thee, Theseus stole, — Leucippus" daughters, they 
 
 Rapt from their consorts, on their bridal day ,a . 
 
PARIS TO HELEN. 47 
 
 Us'd to the ocean, and equipp'd for fight, 395 
 
 Our ships lie ready for immediate flight : 
 
 When Phrygian realms thy matchless charms survey, 
 
 Mistaking crowds shall adoration pay ; 
 
 Shall deem some beauty of celestial birth 
 
 Has left her native heav'n, to visit earth ; 400 
 
 Where'er you turn, rich gums shall smoke around, 
 
 And bleeding victims stain the purpled ground ; 
 
 With gifts, all Ilion shall your coming greet, 
 
 And nations pour their treasures at your feet : 
 
 The tongue attempts in vain the whole to tell ; 405 
 
 Yourself shall own that facts report excel. 
 
 Nor fear, that Greece in vengeance shall unite, 
 And raging war pursue our short delight ; 
 Dismiss so vain a terror from your thought ; 
 No flying woman e'er by arms was sought : 410 
 
 From Athens, unreveng'd, his daughter torn, 
 Her weeping sisters saw Erectheus mourn l3 ; 
 From war secure, Thessahan Jason bore m 
 Th' enamour'd princess from the Colchian shore ; 
 
48 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 First taught, by Cretan charms in rape to dare, 415 
 
 Thy Theseus stole before the Gnossian pair »s ; 
 
 With one, secure, he gain'd his native seat, 
 
 Nor fear'd the injur'd sire, nor angry Crete. 
 
 At new events the mind is timid still, 
 
 And apprehension doubles every ill ; 420 
 
 The distant danger which so great appear'd, 
 
 We blush, when present, ever to have fear'd. 
 
 But grant, in arms arise the Grecian line, 
 
 Weapons I have, and war's whole art is mine ; 
 
 Nor Asian realms in force to Argos yield, 425 
 
 Nor arm less numbers for the martial field ; 
 
 There, ardent youths to fight exulting throng, 
 
 And fiery coursers for the battle long ; 
 
 And there, Atrides, to his cost) shall know 
 
 The happier lover no inglorious foe. 430 
 
 A name I gain'd, my limbs ere manhood nerv'd, 
 
 For slaughter^ foes, and Ida's flocks preserv'd ; 
 
 The listed plain my early valour crown'd, 
 
 And vanquish'd crowds, amaz'd, my prowess found : 
 
PARIS TO HELEN. 49 
 
 Nor praise, alone, for open force I claim ; 435 
 
 My certain arrow finds its destin'd aim. 
 
 What deed of Atreus' son does fame impart ? 
 
 Or when can he attain my fatal art ? 
 
 But grant he may, can Greece a Hector claim ? 
 
 A hero — armies in a single name. 440 
 
 Nor think that heav'n has destin'd to your arms, 
 
 A wretch unable to defend those charms ; 
 
 If war pursue us from the Grecian race, 
 
 War, if it come, but comes to their disgrace. 
 
 Not, but I think your charms were cheaply bought, 445 
 
 Though earn'd by perils, and through horrors sought 
 
 Could arms deserve thee, for so bright a prize 
 
 The madd'ning world with one consent might rise ; 
 
 Then, if thy beauties kindled such a flame, 
 
 The dreadful strife were thy eternal fame* 450 
 
 Then trust to fate, — give terror to the wind, — 
 
 And hence to Troy, — whilst yet the gods are kind : 
 
 There, every joy that fortune can design, 
 
 Or love's delights bestow, shall all be thine. 
 
 H 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Note I, page 34, line 15. 
 Bui, chief, Cassandra, heaving in her breast. 
 
 Cassandra was beloved by Apollo,, whose passion she pro- 
 mised to gratify, on condition of his bestowing on her the gift 
 of prophecy ; but having obtained it, she unreasonably refused 
 to fulfil the terms of her agreement, on which the disappointed 
 god condemned her predictions never to meet with belief. 
 
 Note 2, page 3(3, line 7. 
 For this, tvhen Theseus sought a bride to find. 
 
 So early celebrated was the beauty of Helen, that at the age 
 of nine years she was carried off by Theseus, and by him placed 
 under his mother's care, until she should arrive at maturity. 
 His hopes were, however, frustrated ; she was recovered by her 
 brothers, who retaliated on Theseus, by taking iEthra his 
 mother at the same time. Ovid, indeed, says she was restored 
 
52 NOTES. 
 
 by Theseus j but the above account seems the more probable, 
 from the captivity of i£thra. 
 
 Note 3, page 38, line 3. 
 There, glorious labour of Apollo's lyre. 
 
 The walls of Troy were built by the joint labour of Neptune 
 and Apollo, who were employed by Laomedon for that purpose ; 
 he, being ignorant of their quality, refused them their stipulated 
 reward, which caused the first capture of Troy by Hercules. 
 
 Note 4, page 38, line 19. 
 A Phrygian fyc, of our illustrious line. 
 
 Ganymede, who, on account of his beauty, was, on the dis- 
 missal of Hebe from that office, made cup-bearer to the gods. 
 
 Note 5, page 39, line 1. 
 A Phrygian, too, divine Aurora's love. 
 
 Tithonus, the father of Memnon by Aurora : the gift of im- 
 mortality bestowed on him by the enamoured goddess, became 
 the most dreadful of misfortunes ; she having forgot to add the 
 advantages of perpetual youth. He was transformed into a 
 grasshopper. 
 
NOTES. 53 
 
 Note 6, page 39, line 4. 
 Descending, languished in Anchises' arms. 
 
 iEneas was the fruit of their loves : the goddess had strictly 
 charged Anchises to be content with his good fortune., without 
 divulging it j in a moment of unguarded festivity., his vanity 
 got the better of his discretion j for which Jupiter struck him 
 with lightning : he, however, in a mutilated and decrepid state, 
 survived his disaster many years. 
 
 Note /, page 39, line 7. 
 From us, the sun ne'er veil'd his radiant head. 
 
 Atreus, the father, or, according to some, the grandfather of 
 Menelaus, having discovered the incestuous loves of his brother 
 Thyestes, and his wife Europa, served up the fruit of their 
 shameful passion, to the father, at a banquet. In horror of 
 which impious act, the sun is said to have turned back on his 
 course through the heavens. 
 
 Note 8, page 39, lines 9 and 10. 
 
 My grandsire reeled not with a parent's blood, 
 Nor names ivith slaughter the Myrtoan flood. 
 
 CEnomaus, king of Elis, having been warned by the oracle 
 that his death should be occasioned by his son-in-law, refused 
 
54 NOTES. 
 
 to give his daughter Hippodamia to any one, who should not 
 overcome him in a chariot-race ; death being the immediate 
 consequence of a defeat. After the failure of many others, 
 Pelops, the father of Atreus, succeeded by bribing Myrtilus, 
 the charioteer of CEnomaus, who caused his master's chariot to 
 break down in the middle of the course j the fall cost CEnomaus 
 his life. The treacherous servant claiming as a reward no less 
 than the first possession of the fair prize, was, by the indignant 
 lover, thrown into the sea, to which he gave his name. 
 
 Note 9, page 39, line 12. 
 
 Midst Jlovoing streams to rave with fatal thirst, 
 
 Tantalus, king of Phrygia, who, to ascertain the divinity of 
 the gods, who on some occasion became his guests, humanely 
 and paternally slaughtered, and dished up his son Pelops to 
 them at table. Ceres proved the only cannibal amongst them ; 
 not having recovered her affliction for the loss of her daughter 
 Proserpine, she was hungry, and inattentive enough to devour 
 one of the shoulders ; which, on the restoration of the young 
 gentleman to life, she replaced with one of ivory. Tantalus 
 was for his crime condemned in the infernal regions to suffer the 
 pains of perpetual hunger and thirst; whilst he continually 
 snatched at fruits, which hung near him, but which as con- 
 stantly eluded his grasp. 
 
NOTES. 55 
 
 Note 10, page 42, line 14. 
 Ofperish'd lovers, try the fatal race, 
 
 Hippomenes, who, on like conditions with Pelops, overcame 
 Atalanta, the daughter of Schoeneus, in a foot race, by the 
 means of three golden apples, given him by Venus for that 
 purpose ; which, thrown before the fair runner at three differ- 
 ent times during the course, thrice led her astray after them, 
 and lost her the race. 
 
 Note 11, page 42, line last. 
 His prize in triumph fierce A Icicles led. 
 
 Deianira, the daughter of (Eneus, king of iEtolia. Hercules 
 won her after a sharp contest with the river god Achelous. 
 
 Note 12, page 40, lines 19 and 20. 
 
 Leucippus 9 daughters, they 
 Rapt from their consorts, on their bridal day. 
 
 Castor and Pollux carried off the daughters of Leucippus on 
 the day of their marriage : the enraged husbands pursued ; one 
 of them was slain by Castor, but Pollux fell by the hand of the 
 other. Ovid here appears guilty of an anachronism ; nineteen 
 years after this epistle is here supposed to have been sent, 
 Homer represents Helen as surprised at not seeing her brothers 
 
56 NOTES. 
 
 in the field against Troy : the death of Pollux, and the alternate 
 residence of each of the brothers in heaven, and in the infernal 
 regions, in other words, their decease, followed immediately 
 the rape of the Leucippides, which, from the ignorance of 
 Helen concerning their fate, must have taken place after her 
 departure for Troy. 
 
 Note 13* page 47, line 18. 
 Her weeping sisters saw Erectheus mourn. 
 
 Orithyia, daughter of Erectheus, king of Athens, was carried 
 off by Boreas into Thrace, where she became the mother of 
 Zetus and Calais. 
 
 Note 14, page 47, line 19. 
 From war secure, Thessalian Jason bore, 
 
 Jason, the chief of the Argonauts, had the address to win the 
 affections of Medea, the daughter of JEetes, king of Colchosj 
 and to persuade her to accompany him to Greece. He after- 
 wards deserted her in favour of Creusa. Her letter on the occa- 
 sion forms one of the author's epistles. 
 
 Note 15, page 48, line 2. 
 Thy Theseus stole before the Gnossian pair. 
 
 Vide epistle of Ariadne to Theseus. 
 
HELEN TO PARIS 
 
THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 Helen, having received the letter of Paris, replies, at first, as greatly offended by 
 the boldness of his proposals, but pretends to make allowances for the extra- 
 vagance of his love ; of which she then proceeds to doubt the sincerity ; till, 
 at length, she gradually affects to be drawn into the confession of a mutual 
 passion : still, occasionally, interspersing fears of his falsehood, and for her 
 own reputation. 
 
 None of the epistles discover so much female art as the following. The transi- 
 tion from reproach to the acknowledgment of love, though highly beautiful, 
 may appear too abrupt ; and the artfulness of the writer too obvious to be 
 contained in one letter : the division of the epistle into two, would remedy 
 this defect without diminishing the elegance of the whole. 
 
HELEN TO PARIS. 
 
 The loose affront I read so late, with shame ', 
 
 To pass in silence, were to share the blame. 
 
 Licentious youth ! can neither human law, 
 
 Nor rites divine^ that harden'd bosom awe ? 
 
 Was it for this, by wint'ry tempests beat, 5 
 
 Our sheltering ports preserved your shattered fleet ? 
 
 For this, an alien honour'd and caress'd, 
 
 Our opening gates receiv'd thee as a guest ? 
 
 Does this reward our ready friendship meet ? 
 
 And thus, is kindness answer'd by deceit ? 10 
 
 No casual guest were you, your actions show — 
 
 The stranger's semblance hid the purpos'd foe : 
 
 But why thus waste I words ? I long, in vain, 
 
 Of faith, or honour, might to you complain ; 
 
60 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 With cool contempt at such reproach you smile, 15 
 
 And scorn deserv'd, simplicity will style : 
 
 Simple, indeed, and ignorant in ill, 
 
 The sense of honour shall control me still : 
 
 May heav'n decree, that, unapproach'd by shame, 
 
 I live no longer than I live with fame. 20 
 
 What ! — if, as yet, thy perfidy unknown, 
 
 My guileless heart no mark'd dislike has shown, 
 
 My looser thoughts no feign'd reserve conceals, 
 
 And smiles confess the ease my bosom feels ; 
 
 Yet clear my fame, nor can remembrance speak 25 
 
 One guilty tale to redden in my cheek. 
 
 Much I admire how hopes so vain begun, 
 
 Or what could whisper, that I might be won. 
 
 Was it, before, that Theseus force applied, 
 
 And tore me, trembling, from my mother's side ? 30 
 
 Canst thou so basely wish recording time 
 
 Should rank thee meanly second in a crime ? 
 
 Mine were the guilt, had Theseus borne away, 
 
 Young as I was, an unreluctant prey a : 
 
HELEN TO PARIS. 61 
 
 But heav'n can witness of the deed, alone — 35 
 
 The shameless wrong to suffer, was my own. 
 
 Nor gain'd the chief his aim, nor forceful led 
 
 Me half distracted to his hated bed : 
 
 As fierce we strove, by different passions fiYdy 
 
 By terror I, and he by love inspir'd ; 40 
 
 Rude force, whilst struggling in his strong embrace, 
 
 Might print some kisses on my glowing face : 
 
 If more I fear'd indeed, my fears were vain, 
 
 Untouch'd he gave me to my sire again : 
 
 Not you such pity to my youth had shown, 45 
 
 Not you with kisses been content alone. 
 
 His quick repentance half excus'd the deed ; 
 
 Did Theseus yield, that Paris might succeed ? 
 
 'Tis hard, a name so pure as mine must fill 
 
 The mouth of scandal, and be blazon'd still. 50 
 
 Not that your flame my soul to anger moves ; 
 
 What female heart can hate the man who loves ? 
 
 But small the credit which your oaths receive ; 
 
 Men will betray — if women will believe ; 
 
62 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Not that I doubt my power, or fear my face, 55 
 
 But that I know you of a treacherous race ; 
 
 For nature cast us in an easy mould, 
 
 Too quick to credit the soft tale when told ; 
 
 Born but to yield, the tender plaint of love 
 
 Qur simple bosoms seldom fails to move : 60 
 
 A faith too ready ruins half my kind, 
 
 Who trust to oaths as changeful as the wind. 
 
 But others sin ; how rare a spotless name ! 
 
 How frail though fair a flower, a woman's fame ! 
 
 Sun-bright it blooms, but may I ne'er forget 65 
 
 Its light once clouded is for ever set ; 
 
 Once rudely touch'd, its former fragrance fled, 
 
 The flow'ret lifts no more its drooping head. 
 
 By swift Eurotas' conscious stream, 'tis true, 
 The joys of furtive love my mother knew 3 , 70 
 
 But she, deceiv'd, in error sinn'd, and well 
 Might fall, who knew not, till too late, she fell : 
 A swan's white form the treacherous god conceal'd, 
 And stole the pleasures she had scorn'd to yield. 
 
HELEN TO PABIS. 63 
 
 But if I meanly bow my soul to shame, 75 
 
 The guilt is justly mine, and mine the blame ; 
 
 The naked crime divulg'd before me lies, 
 
 And if I sin, I sin with open eyes. 
 
 But Jove himself redeems my mother's fall,— - 
 
 Who err'd so nobly, scarcely err'd at all. 80 
 
 Vaunt as you may, the glories of your line 
 
 No added honour can confer on mine ; 
 
 Pelops and Tantalus our lineage grace, 
 
 And Sparta's monarchs, an illustrious race ; 
 
 Jove Leda made my sire, when to her breast, 85 
 
 Of harm unconscious, a false swan she prest. 
 
 Now boast again the source from which you spring, 
 
 And fifth descent from heav'n's immortal king. 
 
 Homage to Troy if subject nations pay, 
 
 Wide are the realms which own our Spartan sway ; 90 
 
 But grant your numbers and your riches more, 
 
 Yours is, at best, but a barbaric shore. 
 
 For heav'nly breasts had mortal proiFers charms, 
 
 Your gifts might win a goddess to your arms. 
 
64 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 But know, could you engage my serious thought, 95 
 
 I may be won, but never can be bought ; 
 
 Base is that female soul which gifts can move, 
 
 Or meanly seeks return for love — but love. 
 
 No ; death shall find me still to honour true ; 
 
 Or if I yield — I only yield to you. 100 
 
 Not that by me your presents are despis'd, 
 
 For gifts are precious, where the giver's priz'd : 
 
 But when I run your various labours o'er, 
 
 And dangerous journey from a distant shore, 
 
 And know, for me those dangers you withstood, 105 
 
 For me you brav'd the winds, and cross'd the flood, 
 
 My melting bosom owns a grateful care, 
 
 And half consents so true a flame to share. 
 
 Nor did your letter first the truth impart, 
 
 I read before the language of your heart ; 110 
 
 I strove, indeed, my knowledge to disguise, 
 
 But saw the soft confession in your eyes ; 
 
 Now bright in hope, now kindling into fire, 
 
 Now soft in prayer, now swimming in desire, 
 
HELEN TO PARIS. 65 
 
 Fix'd on my face, with bold unblushing stare, 115 
 
 As if for ever you could keep them there. 
 
 Now if by chance the offer'd wine I taste, 
 
 With eager hands you seize the bowl in haste ; 
 
 Drain the long draught, and with transported zest, 
 
 Press with your lips the part which mine have prest : 120 
 
 Then sigh, as if within your spirits die, 
 
 And the faint soul was issuing with the sigh. 
 
 How oft abash'd IVe mark'd, with blushing cheek, 
 
 What now your eyes, and now your motions speak ; 
 
 How often trembl'd, lest my lord should see 125 
 
 Those signs — ah ! too well understood by me : 
 
 Sighing, IVe said, " sure shame he never knew," 
 
 Nor waited long to find my words were true. 
 
 At table first, IVe mark'd you spill the wine, 
 
 And letters, then, as lost in thought, design; 130 
 
 Oft, " beauteous Helen," have I trac'd above 
 
 And underneath my name, those words " I love." 
 
 Frowns here have shown I disbeliev'd your flame ; 
 
 Alas ! I soon have learn'd to write the same. 
 
66 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Oh ! could I part the pleasure from the sin, 135 
 
 Such arts too surely would my bosom win. 
 
 That you have charms, and that they please too well, 
 
 These burning blushes to my cost can tell ; 
 
 Far less might move a harder heart than mine, 
 
 And where, indeed, can charms be found like thine? 140 
 
 So fair a form the proudest soul might tame, 
 
 And fan the coldest virtue into flame : 
 
 Not hard, in woman's breast to raise desires, 
 
 And what when rais'd, so fierce as woman's fires ? 
 
 But grant that I believe your passion true, 145 
 
 And grant that I can love thee, grant I do ; 
 
 Still, what avails it, that alike we glow 
 
 With mutual warmth, and mutual wishes know ? 
 
 If without help we sharpest pangs endure, 
 
 And writhe with wounds we cannot hope to cure. 150 
 
 Ere yet too deep is fix'd the fiery dart, 
 
 To other charms resign thy willing heart ; 
 
 Since justly thine I must not, cannot be, 
 
 On them, bestow the love so lost on me. 
 
HELEN TO PARIS. 67 
 
 Be taught by my example to refrain ; 155 
 
 Where passion prompts, 'tis virtue to abstain ; 
 
 Blest with the power, 'tis great to want the will ; 
 
 Though error please awhile, 'tis error still. 
 
 Think you that none beside yourself desire 
 
 The bliss to which your bolder hopes aspire ? 160 
 
 Can Paris only estimate the prize ? 
 
 Of all mankind, has Paris only eyes ? 
 
 Numbers beside consume in silent care ; 
 
 Not more you love than they, but more you dare. 
 
 Hither your course had love propitious sped, 165 
 
 When rival thousands sought my virgin bed 4 ; 
 
 This may I own, such love the truth is due, 
 
 Amidst those thousands I had fix'd on you. 
 
 Another, long ere you the ocean crost, 
 
 Cropp'd the fair flower your tardy coming lost. 170 
 
 What had been yours, another's arms has blest ; 
 
 To finish'd rites you come, and joys possess'd. 
 
 Too late, alas ! my erring heart you sway ; 
 
 I gave before a willing hand away. 
 
68 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 In pity cease a soul so soft to move, 175 
 
 Nor carry ruin where you proffer love ; 
 
 Ah, press no more a triumph o'er my fame, 
 
 Base is the trophy rais'd on woman's shame. 
 
 Yet th'<s was promis'd when in Ida's wood 
 
 Three naked goddesses before you stood ; 180 
 
 With offer'd kingdoms, Juno urg'd her claim, 
 
 And sterner Pallas promis'd martial fame ; 
 
 66 Be mine the prize," soft Venus smiling said, 
 
 " And Spartan Helen shall ascend your bed." 
 
 'Tis doubtful first, if heaven so blest your eyes, 185 
 
 And surely false that I was nam'd the prize ; 
 
 That Venus, me, (her richest gift) assign'd — 
 
 So vain a thought ne'er occupied my mind : 
 
 My mortal charms, if mortal eyes approve, 
 
 No loftier hopes my humble bosom move : 190 
 
 Yet such my weakness, I could wish it true, 
 
 And doubly prize it, since declar'd by you ; 
 
 Nor if I doubt your tale, should doubt displease, 
 
 'Tis hard at once to credit facts like these : 
 
HELEN TO PARIS. 69 
 
 'Tis much, indeed, my charms that Venus thought 195 
 
 A worthy prize, and that those charms you sought ; 
 
 That power and fame were promis'd from above, 
 
 And power and fame were scorn'd for Helen's love ; 
 
 Not laurelTd conquest could with me compare, 
 
 And sceptres seem'd unworthy of thy care : 200 
 
 And do you me, then, more than glory prize ? 
 
 And am I more than empire in your eyes ? 
 
 What bosom cast in softer mould than stone, 
 
 But won by this, must grateful passion own ? 
 
 Of stone, believe me, is not form'd my breast ; #05 
 
 My love alone by prudence is repress'd. 
 
 Why seek a good which never can be found, 
 
 Or nurse a flame which never must be crown'd ? 
 
 For what avails to plough the barren shore, 
 
 Or scatter seeds on lands which never bore ? 210 
 
 How slightly skilFd, be witness powers above, 
 
 How rudely practis'd in the arts of love ! 
 
 New to that dangerous school, I little know 
 
 To hide an inward thought by outward show. 
 
70 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 E'en now, uneven lines my fears betray, 21 5 
 
 And my hand trembles at its first essay ; 
 
 More happy they, when use has deaden'd shame, 
 
 Who boldly for the pleasure risk the blame ; 
 
 I shrink as if before the public eye, 
 
 And, trembling, fancy every face a spy. 220 
 
 Nor vain such terrors ; my unwilling ears 
 
 Receive too just occasion for my fears ; 
 
 Dissemble then — or if desist you will — 
 
 Desist — but why ? — you can dissemble still : 
 
 More secret then — not less in earnest be ; 225 
 
 The signs you mean for me, shew only me. 
 
 Thus far the time allows ; to venture more 
 
 Might cost the freedom we enjoy'd before ; 
 
 'Tis true, my husband treads the Cretan plain, 
 
 But just the cause which urg'd him oVr the main. 230 
 
 Whilst unresolv'd, as yet, to go, or stay, 
 
 u Oh ! haste thy coming — love" — I chanc'd to say. 
 
 Pleas'd with the omen, as my lips he prest, 
 
 " Have all in care," he said, " but most my guest." 
 
HELEN TO PARIS. 71 
 
 I strove my smiles at such a charge to hide, 
 
 And scarce my faltering tongue assent replied ; 
 
 The barrier open in his absence lies, 
 
 And clear the course, yet distant is the prize. 
 
 Know'st thou not well, that royal vengeance flings 
 
 Its venom far — for long the hands of kings ? 240 
 
 Such homage, too, your tongue for ever pays, 
 
 That doubt may spring from such excess of praise. 
 
 Better that fame with less of justice gave 
 
 My charms applause, than live my beauty's slave ; 
 
 Nor wonder that he left me here alone, 245 
 
 He fear'd the woman, but the wife was known ; 
 
 A life like mine might confidence insure ; 
 
 My face was doubtful, but my fame secure. 
 
 You press me hard, and urge me not to lose 
 
 The very moment it were base to use. 250 
 
 Conflicting passions rage my breast within, 
 
 And now the pleasure sways, and now the sin ; 
 
 Alternate flames and ice ; Oh strife severe ! 
 
 Would that my love were less, or less my fear ! 
 
72 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Long are the nights, alike we lie alone ; 255 
 
 My couch no husband shares, no wife your own : 
 
 If fierce your passion, blushing I confess 
 
 I rage with equal pains, and fires no less. 
 
 One house contains us, and you never fail 
 
 To urge, whene'er we meet, the tender tale ; 260 
 
 And ah ! nor zephyr, nor the mated dove 
 
 Is half so soothing as your plaint of love. 
 
 Hard am I prest, where all to guilt invites, 
 
 Our loves, our wishes, and our lonely nights : 
 
 If now you ask me, from a crime so dear 265 
 
 What keeps me still ? I answer, only fear : 
 
 Oh ! I could wish that force might boldly win 
 
 The pleasures which to grant to pray'rs were sin. 
 
 Who knows our sex, knows, woman will refuse 
 
 The very favour which she longs to lose. 270 
 
 Ah ! what, incautious, would my words persuade ? 
 
 Ah ! whither has my love my pen betray'd ? 
 
 No ; rather let us now our pangs endure, 
 
 Whilst art or reason can avail to cure ; 
 
HELEN TO PARIS. 73 
 
 Ere bursting bounds, impatient of control, 275 
 
 They, rooted, rage within the very soul : 
 
 In falling rains, as kindling sparks expire, 
 
 Ere fanning gales have nurs'd them into fire. 
 
 'Twere rash, beside, a stranger's faith to prove, 
 
 Who finds in different lands a different love. 280 
 
 Lost Ariadne with a stranger fled b ; 
 
 A stranger shar'd the pious Lemnian's bed 6 ; 
 
 E'en you, 'tis said, of every hope bereft, 
 
 In Phrygian woods have your CEnone left; 
 
 For know, nor hope denial can avail, 285 
 
 My chiefest care has been to learn your tale. 
 
 But grant the passion you profess be true, 
 
 More on the winds depends your faith than you : 
 
 Forgetting fears, should I consent to fall, 
 
 And blushing, yield at length, to grant thee all : 290 
 
 Whilst fiercest are our fires — the very night 
 
 I name for bliss, may spread your sails for flight, 
 
 Or worse — but half enjoy 'd — when wholly won — 
 
 Our loves are sunder'd wide ere well begun. 
 
74 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Or, shall I rashly in your truth confide, 295 
 
 And with you cross for Troy the swelling tide ? 
 
 I would, indeed ; but fear the voice of fame ; 
 
 Not yet so dead my soul to sense of shame : 
 
 If from my country by a stranger borne, 
 
 How Troy must scorn me, and how Sparta mourn ! 300 
 
 E'en you, who might at least believe me true, 
 
 RemembYing if I fell— I fell for you — 
 
 From all around collecting cause for fear, 
 
 With rude reproaches will offend my ear — 
 
 At once the cause and censor of my crime : 305 
 
 Oh hide me, earth, before that hated time ! 
 
 Riches you offer, but can riches move 
 
 A heart like mine, which asks but only love ? 
 
 Though nations' wealth your Phrygian shores command, 
 
 Far dearer to my soul my native land. 310 
 
 In Troy, to insult and to wrongs betray'd, 
 
 What sire shall right me, and what brothers aid ? 
 
 Like me, Medea, to her cost, believ'd ; 
 
 Like you, her Jason swore, and ye deceived. 
 
HELEN TO PARIS. 75 
 
 Like me secure, she left her native strand, 315 
 
 Soon a sad exile in a foreign land. 
 
 Hope still deceives, and oft, when least we fear 
 
 The storms of fate, alas ! those storms are near. 
 
 The vessel now, with furious tempests torn, 
 
 With prosperous breezes from the port was borne. 320 
 
 To you, your mother's fiery birth appears 
 
 An empty dream, but me it fills with fears ; 
 
 And more, I dread the prophets who proclaim 
 
 That Troy shall surely blaze in Grecian flame ; 
 
 Though Venus may the cause she gain'd defend, 325 
 
 Two are your foes, and only one your friend ; 
 
 Nor doubt I, if for Troy I cross the flood, 
 
 Our fatal loves must wade through seas of blood : 
 
 Eurytion's lust assaiTd th' Inachian maid 7 ; 
 
 Eurytion's lust his savage nation paid. 330 
 
 Think you his sword so slow my husband draws, 
 
 And slack my brothers in so just a cause? 
 
 Nor are their arms so weak, nor souls so tame, 
 
 To suffer unaveng'd a sister's shame. 
 
76 OVID>S EPISTLES. 
 
 Your tale you seek by sounding boasts to grace ; 335 
 
 But ill such words agree with such a face ; 
 
 More fit to Venus than to Mars to yield, 
 
 You suit the chamber better than the field : 
 
 Oh, form'd for pleasures ! be in fight to shine 
 
 The task of others — but to love, be thine. 340 
 
 Those tender limbs should softer combats know, 
 
 Combats— where I would be your only foe ; 
 
 Combats, by art, and not by valour won ; 
 
 Combats, in which we wish to be undone ; 
 
 But shame detains, myself would name the field, 345 
 
 And, blushing, to your arms the triumph yield. 
 
 A private audience, when at last you press, 
 
 With ease what audience you would seek, I guess. 
 
 Our sex's doubts your bold desires despise, 
 
 And hurrying on, push forward to the prize. 350 
 
 But yet, the harvest of your hopes is green, 
 
 The goal you strive to touch is scarcely seen : 
 
 Be wise ; and time assisting your desires, 
 
 My fears may lessen, and increase my fires. 
 
HELEN TO PARIS. 77 
 
 But now enough, these truant lines unfold, 355 
 
 And my tir'd fingers lose their aching hold ; 
 
 If, all my soul to love and you resign'd, 
 
 I kinder grow at length, perhaps too kind ; 
 
 As then, what only can remain to say 
 
 I blush to write — a message shall convey. 360 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Note 1, page 5Q, line 1. 
 
 The loose affront I read so late with shame. 
 
 It may be necessary here to observe, that many deny this 
 epistle to be the work of our author, and cite the ISth elegy of 
 the second book, ad Macrum, as a proof. After enumerating 
 several of his own epistles, and the answers of Sabinus, Ovid 
 says : 
 
 Nee tibi, (qua tutum vati, Macer, arma canenti), 
 Aureus in medio Marte tacetur amor. 
 
 He here has evidently concluded with Sabinus, and tells Macer, 
 that he is aware that, although an heroic poet, he, too, has not 
 disdained to mingle love with his sublimer subjects. He pro- 
 ceeds : 
 
 Et Paris est illic, et adultera, nohile crimen, 
 Et comes extincto Laodamia viro. 
 
 I also (such is the sense), like you have united the themes of 
 
80 NOTES. 
 
 love and war $ Paris is there, (amongst his epistles), and the 
 adulteress, memorable crime ! and Laodamia, the wretched wife 
 of a slaughtered husband. 
 
 But even were this inconclusive, the style and beauty of the 
 epistle are so completely O vidian, that I am astonished how a 
 doubt can have been entertained on the subject. 
 
 Note 2, page 60, line last. 
 Young as I was, an unreluctant prey. 
 
 It may be worth while to inquire a little into the age of these 
 celebrated lovers. If Helen was the twin sister of Castor and 
 Pollux, who accompanied the Argonautic expedition, according 
 to the received chronology, B. C. 1203, and seventy-nine years 
 before the destruction of Troy, which Homer informs us took 
 place twenty years after her elopement with Paris, she could 
 not (allowing her brothers to have been only fifteen when they 
 embarked with Jason) have been less than seventy-four, at the 
 date of this letter, and consequently very little short of a hun- 
 dred, when, twenty years afterwards, the counsellors of Priam 
 were so much struck by her beauty. Indeed, Paris and herself 
 seem to have been a very silly old couple. Supposing him to 
 have been eighteen at the birth of Achilles, as before that event 
 he had ^iven his celebrated judgment in favour of Venus, the 
 apple of Discord having been thrown among the goddesses at 
 the nuptials of Peleus and Thetis. Achilles, by a fair calcula- 
 tion, must have been twenty-four or twenty-five at the elope- 
 ment of Helen, as, several years before, we learn that he was 
 
NOTES. 81 
 
 one of her most ardent admirers. Taking the age of Paris, 
 then, at the date of this epistle, at forty-two, he might surely 
 have had sufficient discretion to restrain his desires, and taste 
 enough not to have fixed them on a lady nearly twice his own 
 age. To redeem, however, the grey hairs of our lovers from 
 the preceding reproach, it is satisfactory to observe, that we 
 have other authority which places the rape of Helen by Theseus 
 only fifteen years before her elopement with Paris, and she had 
 not at that time completed her ninth year j consequently, when 
 supposed to write this epistle, she was not more than twenty- 
 four. If we consider the ardour of Paris, as described on a 
 certain occasion towards the end of the third book of the Iliad, 
 we shall have much difficulty to believe that he was then in his 
 seventh decad. He probably was about the same age as his 
 mistress, certainly a time of life more suitable to their story, 
 than that we at first allotted them. These contradictions spring 
 from the defective system of ancient chronology now received. 
 There seems throughout an unaccountable tendency to unite or 
 connect all remarkable events that can, with any appearance of 
 possibility, be brought together: thus Castor and Pollux are 
 sent to Colchos with Jason, and the apple of Discord makes its 
 appearance at the marriage of Peleus. A scientific correction 
 of early chronology is a desideratum; Newton has laid an ad- 
 mirable basis for it, but the undertaking would be gigantic, 
 and probably require the labour of years. 
 
 Note 3, page (52, line lo\ 
 The joys of furtive love my mother knew. 
 Jupiter, seeing Leda, the wife of Tyndarus, bathing in the 
 
82^ NOTES. 
 
 Eurotas, becoming enamoured of her, transformed himself into 
 a swan, and, as if flying from an eagle which pursued him, 
 sheltered himself in her arms, and there soon availed himself of 
 his situation. Some relate this fable of Nemesis ; others sup- 
 pose Leda and Nemesis the same person ; perhaps there were 
 two of the name, and the first Leda or Nemesis, the mother of 
 Castor and Pollux, might also have given birth to the second, 
 the mother of Helen by Tyndarus : the disagreement of age 
 between Helen and her reputed brothers, is this way accounted 
 for. 
 
 Note 4, page 67, line 12. 
 
 When rival thousands sought my virgin bed. 
 
 Tyndarus, the father of Helen, alarmed at the number of 
 suitors for the hand of his daughter, was apprehensive of ex- 
 citing the enmity of so many powerful princes by the pre- 
 ference of one : from this dilemma he was extricated by the 
 address of Ulysses, who advised him to permit Helen to select 
 a husband from amongst them, previously binding them by 
 oath to unite themselves for her protection or recovery, in case 
 any attempt should be afterwards made on her person 3 in con- 
 sequence of this agreement, on her flight with Paris, they 
 leagued against Troy, which, after a siege of ten years, they 
 reduced to ashes. 
 
 Note 5, page 73, line 7. 
 
 Lost Ariadne with a stranger fled. 
 
 Vide Epistle of Ariadne to Theseus. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 83 
 
 Note 6, page 73, line 8. 
 A stranger shared the pious Lemnian's bed. 
 
 Hypsipyle, queen of Lemnos> hospitably received Jason on 
 his expedition to Colchos, and falling in love with him, ad- 
 mitted him to all the privileges of a husband. He afterwards 
 deserted her. Her letter to Jason is one of our author's epistles. 
 
 Note 7, page J 5, line 15. 
 EurytMs lust assail* d tK Inachian maid. 
 
 At the marriage of Pelops and Hippodamia, the Centaur 
 Eurytion offered violence to the bride j the insult was of course 
 resented by the husband. A war ensued between the Centaurs 
 and the Lapithse, which ended in the destruction of the former. 
 
(ENONE TO PARIS 
 
THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 On the return of Paris to Troy, accompanied by Helen, CEnone sends him this 
 epistle, in which she attempts to regain his affection, by representing to him 
 her own love, and the uncertain fidelity of Helen. She endeavours at first to 
 awaken his gratitude ; and latterly to excite his fears, by describing the evils 
 which his detention of Helen must inevitably entail on his country, and con- 
 jures him to avert them, by restoring her in time to her husband. 
 
(ENONE TO PARIS 
 
 From shades to which alone she long has sigh'd, 
 
 This to her Paris sends his Phrygian bride ; 
 
 Though he, alas ! that tender name deny. 
 
 And, worse than cruel, from her bosom fly ; 
 
 Oh read, or must thou ask the haughty dame 5 
 
 Who basely triumphs in your second flame ? 
 
 Oh read — these sheets no hostile menace know, 
 
 Though wrong'd, the writer cannot be thy foe : 
 
 Tears, tears, my Paris, stream with every line ; 
 
 What frenzy fires my soul to call you mine ! 10 
 
 Peace, pleasure, love, all blasted in their prime ; 
 
 What god has curs'd me thus ? and what my crime ? 
 
 'Tis weak of woes we merit to complain, 
 
 But, undeserv'd, we doubly feel the pain. 
 
88 * OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Hast thou so soon forgot how Ida's groves, 15 
 
 Ere known thy birth, were conscious of our loves ? 
 
 Sprung from a god — yet pleas'd, I stoop'd to share 
 
 A shepherd's love, nor scorn'd a mutual care. 
 
 DisdahTd I then, whilst round our flocks have play'd, 
 
 To crown your pleasures in the secret shade ? £0 
 
 At noon we sought the grove^ at night the shed; 
 
 In winter, hay — in summer, leaves our bed. 
 
 Oft to your sylvan sports I've led the way, 
 
 And press'd your hounds upon the flying prey ; 
 
 Oft by your side the artful toils have set, 25 
 
 Or urg'd the frighten'd savage to the net. 
 
 Still holds each beech my name inscrib'd by thee, 
 
 And still the name increases with the tree : 
 
 Grow, conscious trees, sad records of my woe, 
 
 His former love, his present falsehood show. 30 
 
 Well I remember, where, by Xanthus' flood, 
 
 High o'er its flowery banks a poplar stood ; 
 
 The changing winds around its summit blow, 
 
 Its roots, wide spreading, drink the waves below : 
 
(ENONE TO PARIS. 89 
 
 Still lives the poplar, may it flourish long ! 35 
 
 And long its faithful bark preserve this song : 
 
 " In other flames when perjur'd Paris glow, 
 
 " Back Xanthus' waters to their source shall flow." 
 
 Back, Xanthus 1 waters to your fountain turn, 
 
 In other flames see perjur'd Paris burn. 40 
 
 Ah, day for ever sad ! when summer fled, 
 And winter burst on my devoted head ; 
 When Pallas, brighter naked than in arms^ 
 And heavVs, and beauty's queen disclos'd their charms : 
 This, when you told — sad presage of my pains, 45 
 
 My freezing blood seem'd stagnant in my veins : 
 Frantic, our seers I seek, and all declare 
 That adverse gods some dreadful storm prepare. 
 
 Soon feird, whole forests leave their sylvan seat, 
 And on the waters floats the ready fleet ; 50 
 
 Parting, you wept — nor blush, neglectful youth, 
 Though perjur'd now, to own your former truth ; 
 My love no shame pursues — that grief became 
 Your heart, far better than your present flame ' y 
 
 N 
 
90 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Yes, then you wept, though now forgetful grown, 55 
 
 You wept — and with your tears I mix'd my own : 
 Around my neck your circling arms you twine, 
 As wreathes around its elm the clasping vine. 
 What fond excuses then you fram'd to stay ! 
 How curs'd your going, and how wish'd delay! 60 
 
 How oft, when fancied storms were feign'd your care, 
 Your comrades laugh'd, who knew the winds were fair : 
 How oft you strove to kiss your last in vain, 
 And still again return'd to kiss again ; 
 
 And swearing all their former vows anew, 65 
 
 Scarce breath'd your lips that hated word — adieu ! 
 Now speeds your vessel with the fav'ring wind, 
 And flying leaves a foaming track behind : 
 My eyes the bark pursue, the bark appears 
 But indistinctly, through a veil of tears ; 70 
 
 But still I gaz'd intently on thy flight, 
 And follow'd aching, till I lost thee quite : 
 Then vows unblest for your return I pay, 
 And madly for my own destruction pray : 
 
CENONE TO PARIS. 91 
 
 <i Oh give," I cry, " ye daughters of the main, 75 
 
 " Oh give my Paris to these eyes again." 
 
 Too soon the sea-nymphs listen'd — to my cost ; 
 
 You come — you come indeed — but I am lost. 
 
 Another reaps the harvest of my cares, 
 
 Curs'd fate ! another profits by my pray'rs ; 80 
 
 For an adultress are my vows preferr'd ; 
 
 For an adultress, too, my vows are heard. 
 
 From a high rock which overlooks the main, 
 When first my eyes beheld thy sails again ; 
 Such was my haste, that headlong from the steep 85 
 
 I scarce refrain'd from plunging in the deep : 
 Just then bright purple on the prow appear'd, 
 Not thine that Tyrian dye, I knew — and fear'd ; 
 Not long I doubt, for soon, at nearer space, 
 I saw — ye gods ! — I saw a female face ; 90 
 
 Nay, more — (my very soul what madness stung !) 
 The shameless wanton to your bosom clung : 
 ^was then I beat my breasts, my cheeks I tore, 
 And curs'd my beauty, since it pleas' d no more. 
 
92 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 The scene all conscious of my grief appears ; 95 
 
 The earth of Ida drinks my flowing tears, 
 
 The gales of Ida waft around my sighs, 
 
 The vales of Ida echo to my cries. 
 
 So, too, may Helen grieve, and so deplore 
 
 In turn, the falsehood she has caus'd before ; 100 
 
 Like me, ye gods, like me, Oh let her prove 
 
 How keen the tortures of deserted love ! 
 
 Oh, heav'n ! that hearts by riches should be sway'd, 
 And sacred love be made an impious trade ; 
 A prince become, you find, who cross the sea, 105 
 
 And leave their lords and native land for thee ; 
 But when your flocks in Ida's vales you fed, 
 Who but (Enone shar'd the shepherd's bed ? 
 Nor think I pine your boasted rank to share, 
 Not wealth, nor power, but love is all my care : 110 
 
 Though not unworthy I in courts to shine, 
 Nor yet too mean to mix my race with thine ; 
 These hands might well the regal sceptre own ; 
 A crown this forehead, and this form a throne : 
 
GENONE TO PARIS. 93 
 
 What ! if their shade, where covering beeches threw, 115 
 
 I pass'd, on new-fall'n leaves, the night with you ; 
 
 Well might the gilded couch by me be prest, 
 
 If outward show could soothe a wretch to rest ; 
 
 But not the gilded couch can bring repose, 
 
 Nor outward show a wretch's eyelids close. 120 
 
 Secure beside, no navies cross the sea, 
 
 No swords avenging leave their sheaths for me ; 
 
 For her already leagues a host of kings, 
 
 And war the dowry to your arms she brings. 
 
 Ere yet you cast all hopes of peace away, 125 
 
 Hear what your father, what your brothers say ; 
 
 Their cooler judgment some regard may claim ; 
 
 Oh yield, at their demand, the fatal dame : 
 
 Since madly if the chance of arms you prove, 
 
 And wound your country rather than your love, 130 
 
 So base a cause success can never know, 
 
 And Jove in justice must assist the foe. 
 
 Nor dream her true, nor think that heart can be 
 To others hard, which was so soft to thee ; 
 
94 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 As once Atrides seem'd like you her care % 135 
 
 So you like him shall curse the changing fair ; 
 
 No art our sex lost honour can restore ; 
 
 If virtue sleep but once, she wakes no more. 
 
 If you she love — she lov'd Atrides too ; 
 
 If true she seem — Atrides thought her true ; 140 
 
 E'en when he trusted most, with you she fled, 
 
 And left his easy faith a widow'd bed. 
 
 Ah, blest Andromache ! ah, envied dame ! 
 
 Whose husband justly owns a mutual flame : 
 
 A love as pure as hers behold in me, 145 
 
 But where, alas ! is Hector's faith in thee ? 
 
 Light as the sapless leaves the breezes bear 
 
 From autumn groves, to float in empty air. 
 
 So ears of corn the reaper's hope betray, 
 
 When suns too fierce have dried their pith away. 3 50 
 
 Loose to the winds her streaming tresses flung ; 
 'Twas thus, inspir'd, your raging sister sung; 
 " Why, lost CEnone, why thus sow the sand ? 
 " And plough with fruitless toil a barren land ?" 
 
(ENONE TO PARIS. 95 
 
 " She comes, she comes, and with her brings despair, 155 
 
 " The Grecian heifer comes, for woes prepare. 
 
 " Oh heav'ns ! what ills her cursed arrival wait, 
 
 " Yourself and country share one common fate. 
 
 " Yet, yet, ye gods ! reverse your stern decree, 
 
 " Whelm the dire vessel in til 1 avenging sea ; 1 60 
 
 " Vain pray'r ! the furies urge it o'er the flood, 
 
 " Death is its pilot, and its freight is blood ." 
 
 Here, raving still, they snatch'd her from my sight, 
 
 Whilst all my trembling frame confessed my fright. 
 
 Too soon, alas ! the truth confirms my fear, 165 
 
 The fatal heifer is already here. 
 
 Grant that the Spartan dame indeed be fair, 
 
 Should fragile form with faith like mine compare ? 
 
 A stranger's love inflames, she braves the main, 
 
 Nor child, nor lord, nor native land detain. 170 
 
 So Theseus, too, (if Theseus be the name), 
 
 Successful, won before th' inconstant dame. 
 
 Though there she talks of youth to youth untrue, 
 
 And love, forgetful of a lover's due, 
 
96 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 What ! youth and love the tempting prize forego ! 175 
 
 A likely tale ! as those who love must know. 
 
 If force you fondly plead, to spare the blame, 
 
 And hide the sin beneath an empty name, 
 
 Know, that where twice Ave suffer force, 'tis still 
 
 To save consent, and not for want of will. 180 
 
 Such Helen is, but thy GEnone, true 
 
 To vows by you forgot, still lives for you ; 
 
 Nor e'er her faith has lost, nor e'er can lose, 
 
 Though well such lesson might her fault excuse* 
 
 For me swift Satyrs, whilst I love denied, 185 
 
 Have panting rang'd in vain the mountain's side : 
 
 Faunus, who decks with leafy wreaths his head, 
 
 O'er Ida's tops has follow'd as I fled : 
 
 Me, too, bright Phcebus, blushing I confess, 
 
 Pursued — not mine the fault — with more success : 190 
 
 When words he found were lost, the god assail'd 
 
 With force, and scarcely e'en by force prevail'd ; 
 
 For still fierce tokens of my rage he bore, 
 
 His cheeks I rent, his laurell'd tresses tore. 
 
(EN ONE TO PARIS. 97 
 
 I ask'd not gold, what gold can pay the cost 195 
 
 Of form abus'd, and virgin honour lost ? 
 
 Base is the soul which wealth can win to shame, 
 
 Or riches meanly compensate for fame. 
 
 Unsought, the god disdain'd not to impart 
 
 The secrets of his own celestial art : 200 
 
 No herb of power to ease the wretch's pains, 
 
 No plant unknown to me wide earth contains 3 ; 
 
 Ah ! what avails my skill ? the wounds of love 
 
 No herb can cure, no med'cine can remove : 
 
 Source of our art, when furious passion led, 205 
 
 Thessalian herds, himself, Apollo fed 4 . 
 
 Nor earth nor heav'n itself can peace insure ; 
 
 I writhe with wounds which only you can cure. 
 
 Sure 'tis not much in me to claim your care, 
 
 I come not fierce in arms, but sad in pray'r ; 210 
 
 For thine I am, and have been — nor disdain 
 
 So just a suit^-thine ever would remain. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Note 1 , page 88, line 4. 
 Sprung from a gocL, fyc. 
 
 (Enone was the daughter of the river-god, Cebrenus j or, ac- 
 cording to some, of the Xanthus. 
 
 Note 2, page 94, line 1 . 
 As, once Atrides seemd like you her care, 
 
 Atrides is a patronymic common to Agamemnon and Me- 
 nelaus, as the sons of Atreus. Many assert that Atreus was 
 their grandfather, and his son, Plisthenes, their father. 
 
 Note 3, page 97, line 8. 
 No plant unknown to me voide earth contains* 
 
 When Paris had received from the hand of Philoctetes the 
 wound which caused his death, in hopes of profiting by the 
 
100 NOTES. 
 
 medical assistance of GEnone, he directed his attendants to con- 
 vey him to her, for that purpose. He expired at the moment 
 he arrived in her presence, and she, in despair, stabbed herself 
 to the heart on the dead body. 
 
 Note 4, page Q7, line 12. 
 
 Thessalian herds, himself, Apollo fed, 
 
 I am aware of no other author who attributes this story of 
 Apollo to love, perhaps CEnone purposely gives it a wrong turn. 
 When Jupiter had killed ^Esculapius, the son of Apollo, for re- 
 storing Hippolytus to life, the father, in revenge, destroyed the 
 Cyclops, whose occupation it was to forge the bolts of Jupiter ; 
 for this act he was banished from heaven, and in his exile hired 
 himself as a herdsman to Admetus, king of Thessaly. 
 
ARIADNE TO THESEUS 
 
THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 Minos, the son of Jupiter and Europa, after a severe but successful war with the 
 Athenians (who had treacherously slain his son Androgeos), granted them 
 peace, on condition that they should send yearly to Crete seven young men, 
 and as many virgins, to be devoured by the Minotaur, " quern arte Daedali 
 Fasiphae ex tauro genuerat." Ovid says, De Arte Amandi, Lib. I. 
 
 Hanc tamen implevit vaccd deceptus acernd 
 Dux gregis ; et partu proditus auctor erat. 
 
 The Minotaur was the fruit of this monstrous intrigue; it was half a man and 
 half a bull. Theseus, indignant at this shameful tribute, procured the lot to 
 fall on himself, willingly exposing himself to the risk of perishing, in the hope 
 of destroying the monster. By the assistance of Ariadne (who fell in love with 
 him, and supplied him with a clue, by which he was enabled to retrace the 
 windings of the labyrinth in which the Minotaur was confined) he prevailed, 
 and slew it. Ariadne and her sister Phaedra accompanied him on his leaving 
 Crete. On his way home he touched at Naxos, and there, either satiated with 
 his prize, or warned by Bacchus in a dream, he left Ariadne ; who from 
 thence writes him this epistle ; in which she complains of his cruelty, recounts 
 the services she had rendered him, and entreats him to return. 
 
ARIADNE TO THESEUS. 
 
 By thee, inhuman ! to their rage resign'd, 
 
 Less fierce than thee the very beasts I find ; 
 
 E'en raging tigers yet their prey forbear. 
 
 And hungry wolves their fated victim spare ; 
 
 From thence I write, where helpless and alone, 5 
 
 Thy falsehood left me on a coast unknown, 
 
 Shores which, alas ! have all my wrongs survey'd. 
 
 By treacherous sleep, and treacherous love betray'd, 
 
 Scarce yet the glowing orient blush'd with light, 
 
 And yet the fields with morning frost were white ; 10 
 
 Scarce yet, rejoicing on the dewy spray, 
 
 The feather'd songsters hail'd the coming day, 
 
 When round our couch my eager arms I threw, 
 
 And fondly fancied they encircled you ; 
 
104 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 But ah ! responsive to my heaving breast, 15 
 
 No heart's warm throbbings are tumultuous prest ; 
 
 Again I seek thee with a fresh embrace, 
 
 Again deceiv'd, I grasp at empty space. 
 
 Fear chilFd my veins, my treacherous slumber fled, 
 
 Frantic I leapt from the deserted bed ; 20 
 
 Then sunk again ; my frame with horror shook, 
 
 And sense my soul, and strength my limbs forsook. 
 
 My breast I beat, my loosen'd tresses tore, 
 
 And sent my shrieks along the desart shore ; 
 
 Anxious I stretch'd around my aching sight ; 25 
 
 The silver lamp of heav'n supplied her light : 
 
 In vain on every side I cast my eyes, 
 
 The naked coast alone before me lies. 
 
 Now here, now there, I rush where rage inspires. 
 
 But ill my strength obeys my wild desires : 30 
 
 In shrieks unceasing, " Theseus !" I exclaim, 
 
 The hills and rocks around return the name, 
 
 And oft as I my piercing cries renew, 
 
 The echoing shores replied, and calTd thee too. 
 
ARIADNE TO THESEUS. 105 
 
 A hill was near, which o'er the waters, cast 35 
 
 A lengthen'd shade, and brav'd the frequent blast ; 
 Thither my course with headlong haste I bent, 
 Unusual strength my furious passion lent ^ 
 Thence wide around the seas in prospect lay, 
 And thence thy flying vessel I survey ; 40 
 
 False as thy cruel self, the treacherous gale 
 Conspir'd with thee, and filTd thy swelling sail; 
 Thee, too, I saw, or ready fancy drew 
 Thy well-known semblance to my eager view : 
 A deadly cold struck inward to my heart, 45 
 
 And life's warm stream seem'd drawn from every part : 
 Not long I languish'd, grief too fierce to bear 
 Pour'd on my soul, and rous'd me to despair. 
 " Theseus, oh Theseus ! whither dost thou fly ?" 
 Frantic I scream, the sounding rocks reply. 50 
 
 " Stay, yet," I cry, " perfidious Theseus, stay ; 
 iQ Hither you brought me, bear me hence away." 
 Signs, shrieks, and furious gestures speak the rest, 
 My arms I wave, and rend my flowing vest ; 
 
 p 
 
106 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Then from my head the shining veil I tear, 55 
 
 The floating folds on high the breezes bear ; 
 
 But deaf thy ears to me, and clos'd thine eyes, 
 
 My signs, alas ! are fruitless as my cries. 
 
 But still I follow'd, till I lost thee quite, 
 
 And distance shut thee from my aching sight ; 60 
 
 Then first I wept, for then the bursting woe 
 
 Found vent at length, and tears began to flow ; 
 
 For when thy sails no longer met my view, 
 
 To weep, alas ! was all my eyes could do. 
 
 And now I rush along with hair unbound, 65 
 
 Like they whose songs divine Iacchus sound ; 
 
 And now I make the rugged rocks my seat, 
 
 And listless eye the billows at my feet : 
 
 There sit distracted, there despairing groan, 
 
 As cold, alas ! and senseless as the stone. 70 
 
 And now I seek again the treacherous bed 
 
 Which held me sleeping when my Theseus fled ; 
 
 Two lovers there beheld the setting sun ; 
 
 But ah ! the dawn of morning saw but one ; 
 
ARIADNE TO THESEUS. 107 
 
 There yet the print thy form impress'd I see, 75 
 
 And fondly kiss the place instead of thee. 
 
 " False bed," I cry, " a double trust before, 
 
 " You held us both — thy double trust restore : 
 
 " Why did we not," with fury I exclaim, 
 
 " Together go, as we together came ?" 80 
 
 Then on the spot my wretched weight I throw, 
 
 And bathe it hopeless with the streams of woe. 
 
 What can I do ? or whither can I turn ? 
 My eyes nor man, nor human works discern ; 
 On every side though gloomy ocean roars, 85 
 
 No vessel visits these unfriendly shores ; 
 Or grant, that heav'n should all my wants supply, 
 Ship, winds, and sailors, whither shall I fly ? 
 My native Crete these eyes must never view, 
 Crete and my father I betray'd for you. 90 
 
 Though heav'n itself should guide me o'er the main, 
 And stormy iEolus his rage restrain, 
 Uncertain where my hapless course to bend, 
 An exile I, my woes can never end. 
 
108 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 When to your hand I gave the fatal clue, 95 
 
 And to destroy myself deliver'd you, 
 Fool that I was, to credit what you said ! 
 'Twas thus you swore, " By those the ills I dread, 
 " Mine, ever mine, whilst life this bosom warms, 
 ^ Nor chance nor change shall snatch thee from my arms." 
 We live, Oh Theseus, and I am not thine ; 101 
 
 If life (thus buried as I am) be mine, 
 Would thou hadst kept, indeed, thy promise true, 
 And slain me then, when you my brother slew ! 
 Conflicting horrors tear my lab'ring breast, 105 
 
 And every ill that fancy can suggest ; 
 Death in a thousand dreadful forms appears, 
 But not a form so dreadful as my fears : 
 Now shake my limbs, and scarce I breathe for dread, 
 Lest raging tigers in this isle are bred; 110 
 
 And now in thought I hear the lion's roar, 
 Or wolves who howl along the desart shore ; 
 Unnumber'd monsters ocean's caves contain, 
 Who haunt the margin of their native main ; 
 
ARIADNE TO THESEUS. 109 
 
 These sands some pirate with my blood may stain, 115 
 
 Or bind me, hopeless, in a captive chain ; 
 To servile tasks these trembling hands decree, 
 Though sprung from Minos, and betroth'd to thee. 
 
 Wretch that I am ! to certain fate betray'd, 
 To land or sea I look in vain for aid ; 120 
 
 On every side a thousand ills arise, 
 On earth abandon'd, odious to the skies ; 
 Nor hope remains, I more than all should fear 
 The traitor man, did man inhabit here. 
 
 Would heav'n had ne'er Androgeos' death decreed, 125 
 Or fate had doom'd him unaveng'd to bleed ! 
 Would that thy lifted hand the fatal blow 
 Had never dealt, that laid my brother low » ! 
 Or would that I had never lent my aid, 
 Nor sav'd thee then, to be so soon betray'd. 130 
 
 What if thy arm the double monster gave 
 To find his dire abode at length his grave ? 
 Securely thou unarm'd his rage might scorn, 
 For harder far thy bosom than his horn ; 
 
110 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Vain was his hope, indeed, to pierce thee there, 135 
 
 There steel, and harder far than steel you bear. 
 
 Oh ! slumbers cruel, to have held me fast, 
 And far more cruel to have fled at last ; 
 And cruel winds whose aid too ready bore 
 His flying vessel from this hated shore ; 140 
 
 And cruel hand, the pledge of faith in vain, 
 Which first my brother, then myself has slain ; 
 Sleep, and the winds, and ruin of my kind, 
 A faith too easy to my fate combined. 
 
 Ne'er shall I view, above my dying head, 146 
 
 Her pious tears a weeping mother shed ; 
 In foreign air my wretched spirit flies, 
 No careful hand to close my fixing eyes ; 
 No pitying friend the last sad rites to pay, 
 But hungry sea-birds scream around their prey. 150 
 
 My scatter'd bones shall strew this desart plain, 
 Whilst safe you view your native realms again ; 
 There, to surrounding crowds your triumphs tell, 
 The cave explor'd, and how the monster fell ; 
 
ARIADNE TO THESEUS. Ill 
 
 My conquest too, relate, and proudly boast-— 155 
 
 You left me helpless on a foreign coast. 
 
 From human lineage, or from race divine, 
 Could never spring a heart so hard as thine ; 
 But rocks or seas thy ruthless being gave, 
 As stone unfeeling, treacherous as the wave. 160 
 
 Oh ! hadst thou seen me, conscious of thy flight, 
 E'en thou hadst melted at so sad a sight. 
 Yet what thou canst, in fancy view me now, 
 Distracted, hanging o'er a mountain's brow ; 
 Around whose heights the freezing tempests blow, 165 
 
 The foaming billows lash its base below ; 
 My tresses floating to the breeze behold, 
 And members shiv'ring at th' unwonted cold ; 
 Uneven lines my trembling lingers trace, 
 And falling tears th' unfinish'd words efface. 170 
 
 Nor by my hated merits do I plead, 
 Nor claim I now thy kindness as my meed ; 
 But if no safety to my cares be due, 
 For this, alas ! deserve I death from you ? 
 
112 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Where last my straining eyes thy bark could see, 175 
 
 I stretch my wearied arms, as if to thee ; 
 
 As if to thee, my beaten breasts I bare, 
 
 As if to thee my streaming tresses tear. 
 
 By all the floods of tears your treachery draws, 
 
 By all the pangs, by all the fears you cause, 180 
 
 By honour, justice, piety and love, 
 
 By every name below, or powV above — 
 
 Change with the changing winds, replough the main > 
 
 And visit these detested shores again ; 
 
 E'en if before be quench'd the vital flame, 185 
 
 And the tir'd soul have left the harass'd frame, 
 
 Yet may'st thou still the last sad office pay, 
 
 And bear at least my poor remains away 8 . 
 
NOTES 
 
 Note 1, page 10Q, line 14. 
 Had never dealt xuhich laid my brother low, 
 
 Ariadne was the daughter of Minos and Pasiphae, and conse- 
 quently half-sister to the Minotaur : it may be as well here ta 
 observe, that some authors give a more natural turn to the in- 
 clinations of Pasiphae, by supposing that her intrigue was with 
 a person of her husband's court named Taurus. 
 
 Note 2, page 1 12, line last. 
 
 And bear at least my poor remains away. 
 
 According to our author, Ariadne was not so unfortunate as 
 she had reason to apprehend ; Bacchus, who had caused the 
 departure of Theseus, having himself become enamoured of her, 
 soon made his appearance, and was not long in prevailing on 
 the lady to forget the mortal for the god. When we consider 
 the qualifications of Bacchus, we shall not even now think it m 
 very extraordinary exchange. 
 
PHtEDRA to hippolytus. 
 
THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 Theseus having deserted Ariadne in the island of Naxos, on his arrival at Athens 
 married her sister Phaedra. Theseus had a son by Hippolyte, queen of the 
 Amazons, named Hippolytus, of whom Phaedra soon became desperately ena- 
 moured. Having long struggled in vain with her passion, she resolves to dis- 
 close it ; but being deterred by the shame of so disgraceful a confession, from 
 declaring it in person, she writes him the following letter. 
 
PILEDRA TO HIPPOLYTUS. 
 
 The health I send, bright youth, be ever thine ; 
 
 For you, and you alone, can make it mine. 
 
 Read this, and if relentless you disdain 
 
 To grant me more — be conscious of my pain ; 
 
 Read, for these lines may please ; read, lovely boy ; 5 
 
 If vain my suit, can bootless pray'rs annoy ? 
 
 Letters convey the secrets of the soul, 
 
 Though mountains rise between, and oceans roll ; 
 
 Our fears, our hopes, our passions they disclose ; 
 
 By letters friends converse, by letters foes. 10 
 
 Thrice my sad secret to impart I tried, 
 
 Thrice on my lips the fruitless efforts died ; 
 
 Love bids me write, since shame the tongue arrest, 
 
 This rules the mind, though that inflames the breast ; 
 
118 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 What love commands, it fits us to obey, 15 
 
 All nature owns his universal sway. 
 
 Doubts long prevaiTd, nor could my soul decide 
 
 To own the flame it had not power to hide : 
 
 In this suspense the god of soft delight 
 
 In whispers spoke, " dismiss thy fears, and write." 20 
 
 Then hear my vows, be present, power divine, 
 
 Pierce that cold breast, and make it glow like mine. 
 
 Untaught to love, my bosom never knew 
 
 Its lord till now, nor any now but you : 
 
 But, Oh ! as conscious of its coldness past, 25 
 
 It burns, with double fury burns at last : 
 
 Scarce youthful steers th' unwonted yoke sustain, 
 
 And colts unbroke run restive from the rein ; 
 
 So fares in love the unaccustom'd heart, 
 
 When first the breast admits the fatal dart : 30 
 
 Art may avail the youthful mind to cure, 
 
 We burn, alas ! more fiercely when mature. 
 
 To thee, fair boy, I offer up my fame ! 
 
 Come, share at once the pleasure and the shame. 
 
PILEDRA to hippolytus. 119 
 
 Wouldst thou not gather tempting as it grows, 35 
 
 The ripen'd fruit, or pluck the offer'd rose ? 
 
 My present fall may prove the past how bright, 
 
 As spots show plainest on the purest white : 
 
 So perfect thou in youth's and beauty's prime, 
 
 So worthy love, to love thee not were crime ; 40 
 
 A meaner flame might just dishonour be, 
 
 But vice is virtue if approv'd by thee. 
 
 Should Jove himself for love to Phaedra sue, 
 
 Not Jove, Hippolytus, could rival you. 
 
 How am I chang'd I what new delights I find ! 45 
 
 Through woods I long to chase the savage kind ; 
 My wonted vows forgot, on Delia's shrine 
 My offerings lay — thy goddess must be mine ; 
 Now would it please o'er mountain-tops to cheer 
 The panting hounds to press the frighten'd deer ; 50 
 
 To mark the dart as from my hand it fled, 
 Or stretch'd on earth to make the grass my bed ; 
 Oft in light chariots, now, I long to lead 
 The rapid race, and lash the flying steed ; 
 
120 OVID'S EPISTLES, 
 
 And now by fits I rave, the secret pain 55 
 
 Preys on my reason, and inflames my brain, 
 Mad as the frantic dames who Bacchus sing l , 
 Or they whose howlings Idas echoes ring. 
 
 Sure woes like mine on all our line await, 
 And Venus rules us with the force of fate : 60* 
 
 Europa first, Jove author of our race, 
 A bull in form, betrayed to his embrace ; 
 My mother next, a melancholy flame 
 Nurs'd in her breast, and filTd her womb with shame. 
 My sister's passion prov'd thy father's aid, 65 
 
 And well thy treacherousdsire her love repaid ! 
 I follow last, nor yet will fate resign 
 The curse that proves me of so lost a line. 
 From our devoted house the sire and son, 
 (Thy fortune use) have double trophies won. 70 
 
 'Twas then, when Ceres annual rites renew % 
 That fate my footsteps to Eleusis drew ; 
 Oh, would to heav'n ! before that fatal time, 
 That death's preventing hand had spar'd my crime - r 
 
PHjEDRA to hippolytus. 121 
 
 Then rag'd my veins with more than wonted heat, 75 
 
 Then was thy triumph o'er my soul complete ; 
 
 White was thy robe, a chaplet deck'd thy hair, 
 
 And modest blushes made thee seem more fair ; 
 
 Others thy face as harsh and haughty blame ; 
 
 I would, alas ! that I could think the same. 80 
 
 I hate those fools who female follies ape, 
 
 Those less than women in the manly shape ; 
 
 Thee well becomes, fair youth, thy rigid air, 
 
 And well thou seorn'st to wreathe thy locks with care. 
 
 Whether thy art the fiery courser tame, 85 
 
 Or graceful hand the certain jav'lin aim, 
 
 Thy every act my wond'ring eyes admire, 
 
 And all my bosom heaves with strong desire. 
 
 Oh ! leave to savage woods thy cold disdain — 
 For lo ! I perish if I sue in vain ; 90 
 
 Soon fails the strength, rash boy, which never knows 
 Alternate respite, nor enjoys repose ; 
 Though thine Diana's skill, the bow, believe, 
 If bent for ever, will at length deceive : 
 
122 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Like thee 5 for whom Aurora sigh'd above 3 , 95 
 
 In woods delighted, but he scorn'd not love; 
 
 Like me by beauty won, the goddess fled, 
 
 For blooming youth , her aged husband's bed ; 
 
 Oft shadowing oaks saw bright-eyed Venus yield 
 
 To glad Adonis, and their loves conceal'd 4 ; 100 
 
 Unblest (Enides next, a hapless name 5 , 
 
 In forests woo'd the fair Maenalian dame ; 
 
 Hers was each prize which found his certain bow, 
 
 And hers the fatal spoils which caus'd his woe. 
 
 Thee, loveliest youth ! let these examples .move ; JL05 
 
 The woods are desarts if depriv'd of love ; 
 
 With thee I'll roam the rugged mountains o'er, 
 
 Fearless with thee pursue the savage boar. 
 
 Where fair Trcezene hears the billows beat 
 
 On either side, we can securely meet ; 110 
 
 A soil far dearer than my native plain, 
 
 If you to grace it with your presence deign. 
 
 Come, lovely boy, nor lose with cold delay ^ 
 
 The fair occasion— Theseus is awajr ; 
 
PHJEDRA TO HIPPOLYTUS. 123 
 
 Him, distant hence, Pirithous detains 6 ; 115 
 
 For him thy father us alike disdains: 
 
 A wrong like that alone 'twere light to know ; 
 
 Far heavier ills his cruel hands we owe : 
 
 First, when her aid my hapless sister gave, 
 
 My brother's blood distain'd the fatal care ; 120 
 
 That sister next he blush'd not to betray, 
 
 But left, inhuman ! to the beasts of prey : 
 
 Not e'en the beauteous pledge in thee she gave, 
 
 Nor her own virtues could thy mother save ; 
 
 She far, alike in courage as in face, 12o 
 
 ExcelTd the warriors of her manlike race : 
 
 Need I relate that by thy sire she died ? 
 
 The sword of Theseus pierc'd her tender side: 
 
 Nor hope, when death o'ertakes that sire, to reign ; 
 
 Thy injur'd mother was unmarried slain. 130 
 
 I, too, alas ! (forgive the crime), have bred, 
 
 Unwilling, children to his hated bed. 
 
 Rather I would, oh human nature's pride ! 
 
 My bursting womb its office, had denied. 
 
184 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Go, now, fond youth I thy parent's bed respect, 135 
 
 The bed that parent shuns with cold neglect. 
 
 Wilt thou for empty names from joys refrain ? 
 
 Shall very sounds thy wish'd delights restrain ? 
 
 In times of old such piety had place, 
 
 When rustic Saturn rul'd the human race ; 140 
 
 Saturn and Saturn's laws are long decay'd ; 
 
 Jove rules us now, and Jove must be obey'd ; 
 
 He grants us, wiser than his doting sire, 
 
 The first of blessings, to indulge desire. 
 
 E'en Juno rules, majestic by his side, 145 
 
 By double ties, his sister and his bride ; 
 
 What Jove approves 'twere impious to disdain ; 
 
 The nearer kindred closer knits the chain : 
 
 Safe in our loves, the truth can ne'er be known, 
 
 Nor can the crime (if crime it be), be shown : 150 
 
 Our near connexion serves to banish fear ; 
 
 The son, and not the lover will appear : 
 
 No need have you to watch the dewy eve. 
 
 No gates to pass, no keeper to deceive ; 
 
PHiEDRA TO HIPPOLYTUS. 125 
 
 As we have liv'd, together we may live, 155 
 
 Kisses you gave, and kisses you may give ; 
 
 Nay, should they see me lock'd in your embrace, 
 
 The vice e'en then would wear a virtue's face. 
 
 Hence, then, delay — and teach that heart to feel ; 
 
 Let mutual pleasures mutual wishes seal. 160 
 
 So, love, who rages now my bosom through, 
 
 To me a tyrant, may be kind to you : 
 
 For this, behold, a suppliant I entreat, 
 
 For this my pride is humbled at thy feet ; 
 
 What now avail my vows, profess'd in Vain, 165 
 
 To perish rather than confess my pain ? 
 
 Fool that I was ! — love's soul-consuming flame 
 
 Can quell the haughtiest, and the fiercest tame : 
 
 Now could I grovel prostrate on the ground 
 
 To kiss thy feet, or cling thy knees around. 1 TO 
 
 To love, alas ! no right, no wrong is known ; 
 
 For where he reigns, the tyrant reigns alone. 
 
 Nor yet my cheeks the conscious hue have lost, 
 
 Which speaks how much this sad confession cost. 
 
126 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Then, oh ! do thou my hapless suit forgive, 175 
 
 Receive these lines — and bid the writer live. 
 Me what avails my sire's extended reign i 
 O'er Crete's proud cities, and the subject main ? 
 Or what, alas ! that author of our line 
 
 I boast the god who hurls the bolt divine ? 180 
 
 What though my grandsire through the heav'nly way 
 Resplendent guides the chariot of the day ? 
 What boots it, mine those mighty names to call ? 
 Since mightier love alike contemns them all ; 
 Their fame in me the tyrant power subdues, 185 
 
 Grant them the pity you to me refuse. 
 Fam'd for the birth of Jove, Crete owns my sway, 
 And Crete shall my Hippolytus obey. 
 If love thou wilt not yield, thy pity spare, 
 Nor scorn a passion which thou dost not share. 190 
 
 A flame more hopeless caus'd my mother's grief 8 ; 
 Yet e'en that wretched mother found relief. 
 Let Venus move thee to regard my pain, 
 So may'st thou ne'er be curs'd to love in vain ; 
 
PH,£DRA TO H1PPOLYTUS. 
 
 127 
 
 So may Diana still direct thy aim, 195 
 
 And every wood afford thee certain game ; 
 
 So may the mountain-gods thy vows succeed, 
 
 And Fawns propitious give the boar to bleed : 
 
 So may the nymphs, when fiercest glows the sun, 
 
 Allay thy thirst, although those nymphs you shun ! 200 
 
 If pray'rs alone to move thy bosom fail, 
 
 My cheeks are bath'd in tears, let tears avail : 
 
 In fancy view, when this shall meet your sight, 
 
 My tears fast falling as these pray'rs I write. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Note 1, page 120, line 3. 
 Mad as the frantic dames who Bacchus sing. 
 
 The ladies bore a principal part in the Dionysia, or festivals of 
 Bacchus ; during their celebration they ran about half naked, 
 with their hair dishevelled, having wreaths of ivy on their head, 
 and the thyrsus in their hand, committing a thousand extra- 
 vagancies, and exciting themselves to fury by copious draughts 
 in honour of the deity. 
 
 The priests of Cybele, who kept their solemnities on Mount 
 Ida, were called Corybantes ; none were admitted to the holy 
 office without previous mutilation. In their ceremonies they 
 affected the manners of madmen, filling the country round with 
 the most dismal howlings, and the confused noise of drums, 
 cymbals, and the clashing of arms. These festivals were insti- 
 tuted by Cybele, in commemoration of her favourite Atys. 
 
 Note 2, page 120, line 17. 
 'Twas then, when Ceres 9 annual rites renew. 
 
 The Eleusinian mysteries were the most famous of the festi- 
 
 s 
 
130 NOTES. 
 
 vals observed by the Greeks. They were instituted in honour 
 of Ceres and Proserpine, by Eumolpus, B. C. 1356, and cele- 
 brated at Eleusis in Attica, from whence they derived their 
 name. The secrecy maintained concerning them is by some 
 supposed to have arisen from the obscene and abominable prac- 
 tices carried on by the initiated during their celebration. A 
 similar idea, and perhaps no better founded than that which 
 has, in some countries, been entertained of the more modern 
 institution of freemasonry. 
 
 Note 3, page 122, line I. 
 
 Like thee, for whom Aurora sigh'd above, 
 
 Phaedra here perverts the story of Cephalus to her own pur- 
 pose. Ovid, in his Metamorphoses, agrees with all others who 
 relate the fable, that he rejected the solicitations of Aurora. 
 
 Note 4, page 122, line 6. 
 Oft shadowing oaks saw bright-ey i d Venus yield. 
 
 The loves of Venus and Adonis are generally known. To the 
 great grief of the goddess, whilst he was hunting a wild boar, 
 he was killed by the enraged animal. 
 
 Note 5, page 122, line 7. 
 Unblest CEnides next, a hapless name, 
 
 Meleager, the son of (Eneus, having killed the celebrated Ca- 
 
NOTES. 131 
 
 lydonian boar, presented its skin to his mistress Atalanta, who 
 had inflicted the first wound. Our matchless Gibbon, in one of 
 his notes, is very jocose on this tale : " The brutes (not the 
 boar)" he says, " quarrelled with the lady (the only one in 
 company) for the skin of the beast." But of the whole party 
 none were so impolite on the occasion as Toxeus and Plexippus, 
 Meleager's own uncles ; they even attempted to deprive, by force, 
 the fair huntress of the honourable present: this was of course 
 resented by the lover, who, in the contest, killed them both. On 
 hearing the melancholy news, Althea, the mother of Meleager, 
 in rage for the death of her brothers, threw into the fire a billet 
 of wood, on the preservation of which the fates had decreed 
 that the duration of her son's life should depend. Meleager 
 died as soon as it was consumed. Homer mentions nothing of 
 the billet. From this silence the fable is supposed to be of 
 later invention. 
 
 Note 6, page 123, line 1. 
 Him distant hence Pirithous detains. 
 
 The friendship of Theseus and Pirithous is proverbial. Piri- 
 thous accompanied his friend when he carried off Helen. In 
 their second joint attempt on Proserpine, the daughter of Aido- 
 neus, king of the Molossi, they failed, and the amorous heroes 
 were taken prisoners. According to some, Pirithous was killed 
 in the enterprise. 
 
1S2 NOTES. 
 
 Note 7> page 126,, line 3. 
 Me tvhat avails my sires extended reign t 
 
 Phaedra was the daughter of Minos, the son of Jupiter, and of 
 Pasiphae, the daughter of Sol. 
 
 Note 8, page J 2(5, line 17. 
 AJlame more hopeless caus'd my mother's grief. 
 
 The attractions of Pasiphae must have been great. 
 
 Potuit corrumpere taurum 
 Mater, 
 
 says Phaedra. 
 
 All the attempts of Phaedra on the chastity of Hippolytus 
 proved unsuccessful ; indignant at his refusal, on the return of 
 Theseus to Athens, she accused him of endeavouring to violate 
 her. Hippolytus was obliged to fly from the resentment of his 
 father. As he took his course along the sea-shore, his horses 
 taking fright, ran among the rocks, by which, his chariot being 
 broken, he was dragged about until his body was torn in pieces. 
 According to some he retired to Italy, whence originated the 
 fable of his being restored to life by iEsculapius. 
 
DIDO TO tENEAS. 
 
THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 ELissa, or, as she was afterwards called, Dido, was the daughter of Belus, king of 
 Tyre $ at an early age she married Sichaeus, one of the priests of the Phoenician 
 Hercules. Pygmalion, who succeeded Belus, murdered Sichaeus whilst of- 
 ficiating in the temple, in order to obtain possession of his immense wealth ; in 
 this he was disappointed by the sudden flight of Dido, who, accompanied by 
 a considerable number of Tyrians, escaped with her riches from the rapacity 
 of the tyi-ant. She landed in Africa, and there built the city of Carthage ; 
 some time after, iEneas l , the son of Anchises by the goddess Venus, on the 
 destruction of Troy by the Grecians, retiring from Asia in quest of a new set- 
 tlement, was cast by a storm on the coast of Carthage, and there hospitably 
 received by Dido, who soon became desperately in love with her guest, and 
 admitted him without reserve to all the privileges of a husband. But neither 
 love nor gratitude long detained iEneas in the arms of Dido. The kingdom 
 which the oracle had promised he should obtain in Italy was ever uppermost 
 in his thoughts, and he soon made preparations for leaving Africa. Dido, on 
 hearing the fatal news, writes him this epistle, in which, after using every 
 other persuasion to induce his stay, she declares her intention of destroying 
 herself, in case of his refusal, on the instant of his departure. 
 
DIDO TO .ENEAS. 
 
 So sadly prescient, by Maeander's springs, 
 
 The swan laments her fate, and dying sings. 
 
 Not that I write, since heav'n forbids thy stay, 
 
 In hope thy soul by fruitless pray'rs to sway ; 
 
 But having lost whate'er regard could claim, 5 
 
 My present honour, and my future fame ; 
 
 'Tis light, indeed, when all that merits care 
 
 Was basely lost, to lose a dying pray'r. 
 
 Fix'd then thou art ! and soon the treacherous wind, 
 
 Which speeds thy course, shall leave thy wrongs behind ; 10 
 
 Whilst you, regardless, give with equal care 
 
 Your hoisted sails and plighted vows to air ; 
 
 Though vers'd in dangers, not by perils taught, 
 
 To follow kingdoms only found in thought ; 
 
186 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 For these, our rising Carthage you disdain, 15 
 
 And crowns are offer'd to your hands in vain ; 
 
 Nor present ease, nor future peace you prize, 
 
 And proffer'd good for empty dreams despise ; 
 
 To search for what unsought you may obtain, 
 
 And grasp at sceptres you may seek in vain. 20 
 
 Or will its sons, if found this promis'd land, 
 
 So tamely yield it to a stranger's hand ? 
 
 Or hop'st thou there another love to find, 
 
 Another Dido, to her ruin kind ? 
 
 To swear again, as you so lately swore, 25 
 
 Then break the promise plighted as before ? 
 
 How long, ere crowds like ours shall greet thy sight ? 
 
 Or thy new turrets know an equal height ? 
 
 If heav'n in this thy fondest hopes fulfil, 
 
 A love so true as mine were wanting still ; 30 
 
 For, oh ! I burn with unrestrain'd desire, 
 
 As holy tapers toucfrd by sacred fire ; 
 
 Fierce as the flames before the driving blast, 
 
 And pure as incense on the altar cast : 
 
DIDO TO .ENEAS. 1ST 
 
 Thy cruel form for ever haunts my sight, 35 
 
 By day in fancy, and in dreams by night. 
 
 But you, alas ! regardless of my pain, 
 
 My gifts, and pray'rs, and tears alike disdain ; 
 
 Still doonTd in spite of reason to adore, 
 
 The more my wrongs, I love thee still the more. 40 
 
 Have pity, Love — thy burning arrows spare, 
 
 Or pierce thy brother's heart, or mine forbear s ; 
 
 But false those vaunts which I believ'd before ; 
 
 A son so cruel Venus never bore ; 
 
 From flinty rocks, or harden'd oaks you sprung, 45 
 
 And at the dugs of savage tigers hung ; 
 
 Or nurs'd in tempests, the impetuous wave, 
 
 Which now you seek, your ruthless being gave. 
 
 The season keeps you here, nor can you fly, 
 
 And winter grants the kindness you deny. 50 
 
 See, with what rage resistless Eurus roars, 
 
 And heaves the billows o'er the frighten'd shores : 
 
 Shall furious tempests more compassion show ? 
 
 Shall I owe them what I to you would owe ? 
 
 T 
 
138 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Hate as you may, yet will you madly run 55 
 
 Content on ruin, so my arms you shun ? 
 
 Dire is thy hate, indeed, and costs thee dear, 
 
 If death less odious than my love appear. 
 
 Soon will the winds be hush'd, the tempests cease, 
 
 And yon wild waters sink at length in peace. 60 
 
 You with the changing winds shall alter too, 
 
 Or harden'd oaks are not so hard as you ; 
 
 Dost thou of storms and horrors past complain ? 
 
 And dar'st thou trust the treacherous deep again ? 
 
 Death, though the winds were calm, the waves serene, 65 
 
 Beneath the faithless semblance lurks unseen ; 
 
 There powVs avenging due awards prepare 
 
 To broken vows, for crimes are punish'd there ; 
 
 A perjur'd lover, dar'st thou ocean brave, 
 
 Though Love^ own mother issued from the wave 3 ? 70 
 
 Lost as I am, I would not injure you, 
 
 And fear to die, lest heav'n my wrongs pursue : 
 
 False as thou art, I would not cause thy fate 
 
 Live rather thou, to kill me by thy hate. 
 
DIDO TO AENEAS. 139 
 
 Say, should thy vessel (be the omen vain), 75 
 
 Be rent by tempests on th' avenging main, 
 
 How will the pow'r who visits human crime, 
 
 Alarm thy conscience at that dreadful time ? 
 
 Then broken vows will fill thy soul with fear, 
 
 And Dido, ruin'd by thy fraud, appear : 80 
 
 Shall bare her bleeding breast, and shrieking show 
 
 The wound yet recent, and repeat the blow. 
 
 Then shall you own such punishment is due, 
 
 And think the rapid lightnings hurl'd at you. 
 
 These ills to shun, thy purpos'd flight delay, 85 
 
 Thy safety more than compensates thy stay : 
 
 If me you scorn, your own Ascanius spare ; 
 
 Shall young lulus in my ruin share ? 
 
 Think on your household gods, or did you save 
 
 Those gods from flames to perish in the wave ? 90 
 
 But neither them from threafning fires you tore, 
 
 Nor aged parent on your shoulders bore. 
 
 Nor I the first that perjur'd tongue deceiv'd ; 
 
 Like me, Creusa to her cost believ'd 4 . 
 
140 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 If fair lulus of her fate inquire, 95 
 
 She died deserted by his treacherous sire. 
 
 Thus warn'd of broken faith, my present ill 
 
 I well, indeed, deserve, for loving still. 
 
 For crimes like these so long your wandering fleet 
 
 Have summers scorch'd, and wintVy tempests beat. 100 
 
 On these our shores, a wretched outcast thrown, 
 
 And scarce secure of life, you found a throne : 
 
 Not so content, to raging love a slave, 
 
 Ah ! gift too late deplorM — myself I gave. 
 
 When to the cavern, time accurs'd ! we fled, 105 
 
 Fate doom'd to ruin this devoted head ; 
 There deem'd secure, whilst rag'd the storm around, 
 I sought for safety, but perdition found ; 
 A dreadful howling fill'd the conscious cave ; 
 The nymphs I thought the spousal signals gave ; 110 
 
 Vain thought ! instead, the furies scream'd from hell, 
 And seafd my ruin with a funeral yell. 
 Oh, violated fame, and faith betray'd I 
 Exact your dues to my Sicha3us' shade ; 
 
DIDO TO AENEAS. 141 
 
 To whom, with downcast eyes, and cheeks that glow, 115 
 
 Shame's burning hue, a guilty ghost I go ; 
 
 Ere tyrant love his second arrow sent, 
 
 Or yet Sichaeus from my soul was rent, 
 
 His sacred image in a temple plac'd, 
 
 With woollen bands and leafy wreaths I grac'd. 120 
 
 From hence, of late, whilst horror struck me dumb, 
 
 Four times his well-known voice cried, " Dido, come H 
 
 Husband, I come, forgive this short delay ; 
 
 'Tis shame, 'tis conscious shame which makes me stay. 
 
 Nor, oh ! refuse the pardon 1 implore, 125 
 
 For cause for sin had never woman more; 
 
 No slight temptation led my faith astray, 
 
 Nor lightly gave I to the passion way; 
 
 His race divine, his old and helpless sire, 
 
 A sacred burthen, borne through foes and fire. 130 
 
 'Twas this which won my soul, and urg'd my fall ; 
 
 Oh ! give him truth^ and he deserv'd it all. 
 
 From youth inur'd to woes, relentless fate 
 Pursues me still with unremitted hate. 
 
142 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 By lust of gold his impious brother led, 135 
 
 My hapless husband at the altar bled ; 
 
 Driv'n from his ashes, and my native land, 
 
 I scarce by flight escaped the murdYer's hand ; 
 
 For realms unknown I cross'd the dangerous sea, 
 
 And bought the very land I gave to thee 5 : 140 
 
 And here, whilst yet my new-born turrets rise, 
 
 The neighbouring nations look with jealous eyes ; 
 
 War threats around, a helpless woman I, 
 
 In war unskilTd, the chance of war must try : 
 
 A thousand suitors for my hand complain, 145 
 
 The prize denied to them that you should gain. 
 
 To crown thy falsehood this alone remains, 
 
 To stern Iarbas give me bound in chains 6 ; 
 
 Or to my brother, welcome prize, resign ; 
 
 Stain'd with my husband's blood, he thirsts for mine. 150 
 
 Do this, and more, but from thy gods refrain, 
 
 Nor touch with impious hands their sacred fane : 
 
 Whilst they thy crimes with indignation see, 
 
 They blush to have been sav'd from flames by thee. 
 
DIDO TO ^NEAS. 143 
 
 Oh ! think perhaps my growing womb contains 155 
 
 Sure pledge (if thou art kind), of future pains : 
 
 Say, to the mother wilt thou add the son ? 
 
 Two thus destroying in the fate of one. 
 
 His brother so shall young lulus lose ? 
 
 And life the father to his child refuse ? 160 
 
 Some god forbids, it seems, your longer stay ; 
 
 Would the same god had kept thee still away ! 
 
 That god your guide, so often have you cross'd 
 
 The seas in vain, and been by tempests toss'd ? 
 
 Fraudful once more he lures you to the main ; 165 
 
 'Tis madness sure to trust such guide again. 
 
 Scarce Troy itself, ere made the wealthy spoil 
 
 Of hated foes, was worth such lengthen'd toil ; 
 
 Though now you steer not where the native tide 
 
 Of sacred Simois laves your Ida^s side ; 170 
 
 But where the waves of distant Tyber flow, 
 
 To land at last — a guest — perhaps a foe. 
 
 Lost in the search, what years shall roll away ! 
 
 How youth shall leave thee, and how strength decay ! 
 
144 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Wilt thou, insensate, then, thy toils renew ? 175 
 
 And dubious good through certain ills pursue ? 
 
 Here if you stay, repose the fates accord, 
 
 And longing thousands court thee for their lord ; 
 
 Here wealth and power secure you may enjoy, 
 
 And find with happier stars another Troy ; 180 
 
 Or, if thy soul inglorious ease disdain, 
 
 And longs lulus for the battle plain, 
 
 Here, worthy of his arms, around are foes ; 
 
 Here may he rage in war, or peace impose. 
 
 Here — by thy father's spirit I adjure, 185 
 
 And by thy brother's darts, alas ! too sure — 
 
 By thy own safety, by the gods you bore 
 
 From flames, here fix thee on this friendly shore : 
 
 So may the clouds which have so long o'ercast 
 
 Your frowning fate, be now for ever past, 190 
 
 So may your foes your force in fight confess,' 
 
 And Mars propitious crown you with success ! 
 
 So may your son in years and fame increase, 
 
 And so your sire's remains repose in peace ! 
 
DIDO TO jfcNEAS. 145 
 
 If won with ease, and light appear my fame, 195 
 
 Not me, in justice, but my passion blame. 
 Why should you hate ? before your Trojan wall, 
 No blood of mine conspir'd the city's fall. 
 Yet, if such wife you scorn, I'll banish shame — 
 A love like mine contends not for a name ; 200 
 
 Make me but yours, I'll be contented still, 
 Your friend — your mistress — any thing you will. 
 
 All changes of our Lybian climes I know ; 
 Here certain winds at certain seasons blow. 
 When milder skies prevail, before the gales 205 
 
 Raise the tall mast, and spread the swelling sails ; 
 Now northern blasts blow fierce upon the land, 
 And heap the driving sea-weed on the sand : 
 Trust to my care, when safe the seas again, 
 For then you shall not, if you would, remain : 210 
 
 But now your harass'd comrades, worn with cares. 
 Some rest require — your navy needs repairs. 
 Grant, I conjure, by every fond embrace 
 Of dear though guilty love, some little space ; 
 
146 OVID'S EPISTLES. 
 
 Oh ! stay, at least, by all thou ow'st me, stay, 215 
 
 Till calmer reason re-assume her sway ; 
 
 Stay till its present rage wild ocean cease, 
 
 And time shall soothe the wilder soul to peace : 
 
 Or grant me this, or be assur'd the wrong 
 
 I suffer now, I will not suffer long ; 220 
 
 For know, before me lies your Trojan blade, 
 
 And death stands ready by to lend his aid ; 
 
 The weeping steel receives a falling flood, 
 
 And streams with tears — so soon to stream with blood : 
 
 How well thy presents with my fate accord ! 225 
 
 Thou gav'st me first thy love, and then thy sword ; 
 
 Thy second gift was kindest, for thy first 
 
 Not only pierc'd before, but wounds the worst. 
 
 And thou, dear sister, conscious of my shame, 
 
 Pay the last office which a wretch can claim ; 
 
 Nor on my tomb Sichaeus' name be shown, 
 
 But this short legend only mark the stone : 
 
 " Dido the cause, and sword which laid her low, 
 
 " iEneas owed, her own was but the blow." 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Note 1, Argument. 
 Some time after, Mneas, fyc. 
 
 The introduction of ./Eneas at the court of Dido is generally re- 
 ceived as the most celebrated anachronism of the Latin muse, and 
 as such has been for centuries quoted on all occasions. It will, per- 
 haps, excite surprise in many, when I observe, that notwithstand- 
 ing it is more conformable to the whole tenour of ancient history 
 to believe, that Dido andiEneas really were contemporaries, and 
 that the defective state of the present, and long-received system 
 of early chronology, only, has given birth to the contrary opi- 
 nion. To discuss the question in this place, by examining the 
 different authorities, and by exhibiting the test of mathema- 
 tical calculation, would far exceed the reasonable limits of a 
 note. I shall content myself with remarking, firstly, that the 
 supposed anachronism is of about three hundred years ; and 
 that Newton clearly shews, that the aera of the Trojan war 
 
148 NOTES. 
 
 should be dated nearly the same number of years later, which 
 will fix the age of Dido and iEneas at the same period. Se- 
 condly, that Dido was the daughter of Belus, king of Phoenicia, 
 who assisted Teucer on his return from the Trojan war, in build- 
 ing the city of Salamis. Belus was soon after succeeded by 
 his son Pygmalion, who, by the murder of Sichseus, forced 
 Dido to retire to Africa, where she founded the city of Carthage. 
 As iEneas did not arrive in Africa until several years after the 
 destruction of Troy (having lost much time in making several in- 
 effectual attempts to settle in the Grecian seas), it may be easily 
 supposed that Dido in the mean time had left Tyre, and that 
 Carthage may have been in the condition in which, according 
 to Virgil, and the following epistle, it was found by iEneas. 
 
 Note 2, page 137, line 8. 
 Or pierce thy brother's heart, or mine forbear. 
 
 zEneas was the son of Venus, and consequently the brother 
 of Cupid. 
 
 Note 3, page 138, line 16. 
 
 Though Love's oven mother issued from the tvave. 
 
 Venus was called also Aphrodite, from having sprung from 
 the froth of the sea, after that most ungrateful operation per- 
 formed by Saturn on his father Uranus. 
 
NOTES. 149 
 
 Note 4, page 139, line l ast » 
 Like me, Creusa to her cost believed. 
 
 Creusa, one of the many daughters of Priam by Hecuba, was 
 the first wife of iEneas ; on the night on which Troy was taken, 
 she fled with her husband. iEneas, supporting his father on 
 his shoulders with one hand, and by the other holding his young 
 son Ascanius, or lulus, was prevented from attending to his 
 wife ; they were separated in the confusion, and he was unable 
 to recover her. Dido here insinuates that he purposely deserted 
 her. 
 
 Note 5, page 142, line 6. 
 And bought the very land I gave to thee. 
 
 On the arrival of Dido in Africa, the natives, jealous of the 
 number of her followers, were inclined to dispute her landing. 
 She satisfied them by offering to pay for whatever land she 
 might require, and by limiting its extent to the quantity which 
 could be surrounded by a bull's hide. She accordingly cut it 
 into many excessively narrow strips, and contrived to inclose a 
 sufficient piece of territory for the erection of a citadel, which 
 she called Byrsa, from jSupcra, a hide. 
 
 Note 6, page 142, line 14. 
 To stern Iarbas give me bound in chains. 
 
 Iarbas, a suitor of Dido, who prepared, with many others, to 
 

 150 NOTES. 
 
 revenge by arms the slight offered him by her preference of 
 iEneas. She was strengthened in her resolution to destroy her- 
 self on the departure of iEneas, by the fear of falling into the 
 hands of Iarbas, As she threatens in the letter, she stabbed 
 herself with ti sword which she had received as a present from 
 the faithless Trojan. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 T. DAVISON, LOMBARD STREET, WHITEFRIARS, LONDON 
 
In the Press, and shortly voill be published, 
 
 THE FJRST PART OF RUGGIERO, A Sicilian Frag- 
 ment, with other Poems, by E. D. Baynes, Esq. And about 
 the end of August next, Volume II. of the translation of Ovid's 
 Epistles, by the same hand. 
 

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