Antony and Cleopatra. a. U. C. 717

But not content with half the world's domain, Caesar and Antony alone would reign: The first, a steady sceptre born to wield, O'er all his acts extends the publick shield; The last, abhorrent from the toils of state, Rots on the Nile, a hoary profligate: While subtle Caesar sapp'd his eastern throne, He clasp'd his world in Cleopatra's zone. Not she, for whom Dardanian Troy was lost, The pride of nature, and her country's boast, Nor she, who bade the Macedonian's hand Hurl at Persepolis the blazing brand, Nor Phaedra, nor Ariadne still more fair, Could with the sorceress of Nile compare: In her, not face and shape alone could please, (Though with unrival'd grace she charm'd by these,) But the whole store of Cytherea's wiles, Sighs, gentlest blandishments, and ambush'd smiles; The ready tear, the blush of well-feign'd truth, And the ripe woman, fresh as new-sprung youth. Beneath her roseate palms the lute compress'd, Chac'd thought and trouble from the anxious breast; In dulcet bonds the imprison'd soul she held, While the sweet chords her warbling voice excell'd. A thousand forms the syren could put on, And seem as many mistresses in one; Serious or sportive, as the mood requir'd, No whim grew irksome, and no frolick tir'd. Enough of coyness to provoke desire, Of warmth enough to share the amorous fire, All, her delighted lovers could receive, Seem'd but fond earnests she had more to give; Nor with possession was the promise o'er; Love's fruit and flower at once her bosom bore: No languid pause of bliss near her was known, But, with new joys, new hours came laughing on. By arts like these was wiser Julius won, And Antony, more fond, was more undone. His soul enamour'd to the wanton clung, Glow'd at her eyes, or melted from her tongue; Lull'd in the dear Elysium of her arms, Nor interest moves him, nor ambition warms: Sometimes with short remorse he look'd within, But kept at once the conscience and the sin: In vain he saw the yawning ruin nigh; Content with her, he bade the world go by; He sought no covert of the friendly shade, 'Twas half the zest to have his shame display'd. He deem'd it still his best exchange through life, A melting mistress for a railing wife. Perpetual orgies unabash'd they keep, Wine fires their veins, and revels banish sleep: Timbrels, and songs, and feasts of deaf'ning joy, By arts till then unknown, forbore to cloy. See for one banquet a whole kingdom sink, And gems dissolv'd impearl her luscious drink. Pleasure was hunted through each impious mode; An Isis she, and he the vine-crown'd God. Old Nile, astonish'd, on his bosom bore Monsters more strange than e'er deform'd his shore; For what so monstrous sight beneath the skies, As self-created human deities?— But heaven, for vengeful retribution, means, The sword and asp should close these frantick scenes. Spectators mute, the sorrowing captains stand, While empire moulders from his palsied hand: But rous'd at length, unwilling, to the fight, His star at Actium sunk in endless night. With equal pomp, as when down Cydnus' stream Her burnish'd prow struck back the sun's bright beam, The enchantress bade her bloated train prepare, To meet the horrours of the naval war; But the first shouts her trembling spirits quail; She flies, and he pursues her shameful sail: His heart-strings to the harlot's rudder tied, What lust began, his dotage ratified: In Alexandria's towers he veil'd his head, Where, self-expell'd, the vital spirit fled. He try'd all vices, and surpass'd in all, Luxurious, cruel, wild, and prodigal; Lavish of hours, of character, and gold, But warlike, hardy, and in dangers bold; His mind was suited to the boist'rous times, A soldier's virtues, and a tyrant's crimes.