Elysium

In airy fields, the fields of bliss below, Where woods of myrtle set by Maro grow; Where grass beneath, and shade diffus'd above, Refresh the fever of distracted love: There at a solemn tide, the beauties slain By tender passion, act their fates again: Thro' gloomy light that just betrays the grove, In Orgyes all disconsolately rove; They range the reeds, and o'er the poppies sweep, That nodding bend beneath their load of sleep; By lakes subsiding with a gentle face, And rivers gliding with a silent pace, Where kings and swains, by antient authors sung, Now chang'd to flow'rets, o'er the margin hung: The self-admirer, white Narcissus, so Fades at the brink, his picture fades below; In bells of azure, Hyacinth arose, In crimson painted young Adonis glows; The fragrant Crocus shone with golden flame, And leaves inscrib'd with Ajax' haughty name. A sad remembrance brings their lives to view, And with their passion makes their tears renew; Unwinds the years, and lays the former scene, Where after death, they live for deaths again.

Lost by the glories of her lover's state, Deluded Semele bewails her fate, And runs, and seems to burn, the flames arise, And fan with idle furies as the flies.

The lovely Caenis, whose transforming shape Secur'd her honour from a second rape, Now moans the first, with ruffl'd dress appears, Feels her whole sex return, and bathes with tears.

The jealous Procris wipes a seeming wound, Whose trickling crimson dyes the bushy ground, Knows the sad shaft, and calls before she go, To kiss the fav'rite hand that gave the blow.

O'er a feign'd Ocean's rage the Sestian Fair Holds a dim taper from a tow'r of air; A noiseless wind assaults the wav'ring light, The beauty tumbling, mingles with the night.

Where curling shades for rough Leucate rose, With love distracted tuneful Sappho goes; Sings to mock-cliffs a melancholy lay, And with a Lover's leap affrights the sea.

The sad Eriphyle retreats to moan What wrought her husband's death, and caus'd her own; Surveys the glitt'ring veil, the bribe of fate, And tears the shadow, but she tears too late.

In thin design and airy picture fleet The tales that stain the Royal House of Crete: To court a lovely bull Pasiphae flies, The snowy phantom feeds before her eyes; Lost Ariadne raves, the thread she bore Trails on unwinding as she walks the shore; And desp'rate Phaedra seeks the lonely groves To read her guilty letter while she roves; Red shame confounds the first, the second wears A starry crown, the third a halter bears.

Fair Laodamia mourns her nuptial night Of love defrauded by the thirst of fight; Yet for another as delusive cries, And dauntless sees her hero's ghost arise.

Here Thisbe, Canace, and Dido stand All arm'd with swords, a fair but angry band; This sword a lover own'd, a father gave The next, the last a stranger chanced to leave.

And there ev'n she, the Goddess of the grove, Join'd with the phantom Fairs, affects to rove, As once for Latmos she forsook the plain, To steal the kisses of a slumb'ring swain; Around her head a starry fillet twines, And at the front a silver crescent shines.

These, and a thousand, and a thousand more, With sacred rage recal the pangs they bore, Strike the deep dart afresh, and ask relief, Or sooth the wound with soft'ning words of grief.

At such a tide unheedful Love invades The dark recesses of the madding shades, Thro' long descent he fans the fogs around, His purple feathers as he flies resound,

The nimble Beauties crouding all to gaze, Confess the common troubler of their ease; Tho' dulling mists and dubious day destroy The fine appearance of the flutt'ring boy, Tho' all the pomp that glitters at his side, The golden belt, the clasp and quiver hid, And tho' the torch appear a gleam of white That faintly spots and moves thro' haizy night; Yet still they know the God, the gen'ral foe, And threat'ning lift their airy hands below.

As mindless of their rage he slowly sails On pinions cumber'd in the misty vales; (Ah! fool to light) the nymphs no more obey, Nor was this region ever his to sway; Cast in a deepen'd ring they close the plain, And seize the God reluctant all in vain.

From hence they lead him where a myrtle stood, The saddest myrtle in the mournful wood, Devote to vex the God, 'twas here before Hell's awful empress soft Adonis bore, When the young hunter scorn'd her graver air, And only Venus warm'd his shadow there.

Fix'd to the trunk the tender boy they bind, They cord his feet beneath, his hands behind; He mourns, but vainly mourns his angry fate, For Beauty still relentless acts in hate; Tho' no offence be done, no judge be nigh, Love must be guilty by the common cry; For all are pleas'd, by partial passion led, To shift their follies on another's head.

Now sharp Reproaches ring their shrill alarms, And all the Heroines brandish all their arms, And ev'ry Heroine makes it her decree, That Cupid suffer just the same as she; To fix the desp'rate halter one essay'd; One seeks to wound him with an empty blade; Some headlong hang the nodding rocks of air, They fall in fancy, and he feels despair; Some toss the hollow seas around his head, (The seas that want a wave afford a dread) Or shake the torch, the sparkling fury flies, And flames that never burn'd, afflict his eyes.

The groaning Myrrha bursts her rinded womb, And drowns his visage in the moist perfume; While others, seeming mild, advise to wound With hum'rous pains, by sly derision found; That prickling bodkins teach the blood to flow, From whence the roses first begin to glow; Or in the flames to singe the boy prepare, That all shou'd chuse by wanton fancy where.

The lovely Venus, with a bleeding breast, She too securely thro' the circle prest, Forgot the parent, urg'd his hasty fate, And spurr'd the female rage beyond debate; O'er all her scenes of frailty swiftly runs, Absolves herself, and makes the crime her son's; That clasp'd in chains with Mars she chanc'd to lye, A noted fable of the laughing sky; That from her Love's intemp'rate heat began Sicanian Eryx, born a savage man; The loose Priapus, and the monster-wight In whom the sexes shamefully unite.

Nor words suffice the Goddess of the Fair, She snaps the rosy-wreath that binds her hair, Then on the God who fear'd a fiercer woe, Her hands unpitying dealt the frequent blow; From all his tender skin, a purple dew The dreadful scourges of the chaplet drew; From whence the rose by Cupid ting'd before, Now doubly tinged, flames with lustre more.

Here ends their wrath; the parent seems severe, The strokes unfit for little Love to bear; To save their foe the melting beauties fly, "And cruel mother! spare thy child, they cry; To Love's account they plac'd their deaths of late, And now transfer the sad account to fate; The mother pleas'd beheld the storm assuage, Thank'd the calm mourners, and dismiss'd her rage.

Thus Fancy once in dusky shade exprest, With empty terrors work'd the time of rest, Where wretched Love endur'd a world of woe, For all a Winter's length of night below; Then soar'd, as sleep dissolv'd, unchain'd away, And thro' the port of Iv'ry reach'd the Day.