John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  His Charge was still before him, th’ behind. 865

  In Fields he suffer’d her to feed by Day,

  But when the setting Sun to Night gave way,

  The Captive Cow he summon’d with a call,

  And drove her back, and ty’d her to the Stall.

  On Leaves of Trees and bitter Herbs she fed, 870

  Heav’n was her Canopy, bare Earth her Bed;

  So hardly lodg’d: and to digest her Food,

  She drank from troubl’d Streams, defil’d with Mud.

  Her woeful Story fain she wou’d have told,

  With Hands upheld, but had no Hands to hold. 875

  Her Head to her ungentle Keeper bow’d,

  She strove to speak; she spoke not, but she low’d:

  Affrighted with the Noise, she look’d around,

  And seem’d t’ inquire the Author of the sound.

  Once on the Banks where often she had play’d, 880

  (Her Father’s Banks) she came, and there survey’d

  Her alter’d Visage, and her branching head;

  And, starting, from her self she wou’d have fled.

  Her fellow Nymphs, familiar to her eyes,

  Beheld, but knew her not in this disguise. 885

  Ev’n Inachus himself was ignorant;

  And in his Daughter did his Daughter want.

  She follow’d where her Fellows went, as she

  Were still a Partner of the Company:

  They stroke her Neck; the gentle Heyfar stands, 890

  And her Neck offers to their stroking Hands.

  Her Father gave her Grass; the Grass she took;

  And lick’d his Palms, and cast a piteous look;

  And in the language of her eyes, she spoke.

  She wou’d have told her name, and ask’t relief, 895

  But wanting words, in tears she tells her grief.

  Which, with her foot she makes him understand;

  And prints the name of Io in the Sand.

  Ah wretched me! her mournful Father cry’d;

  She, with a sigh, to wretched me reply’d: 900

  About her Milk-white neck his arms he threw;

  And wept, and then these tender words ensue.

  And art thou she, whom I have sought around

  The World, and have at length so sadly found?

  So found is worse than lost: with mutual words 905

  Thou answer’st not, no voice thy tongue affords:

  But sighs are deeply drawn from out thy breast;

  And speech deny’d, by lowing is express’d.

  Unknowing I, prepar’d thy Bridal Bed;

  With empty Hopes of happy Issue fed. 910

  But now the Husband of a Herd must be

  Thy Mate, and bell’wing Sons thy Progeny.

  Oh, were I mortal, Death might bring relief!

  But now my God-head but extends my grief;

  Prolongs my Woes, of which no end I see, 915

  And makes me curse my Immortality.

  More had he said, but fearful of her stay,

  The Starry Guardian drove his Charge away,

  To some fresh Pasture; on a hilly height

  He sate himself, and kept her still in sight. 920

  The Eyes of Argus transform’d into

  a Peacock’s Train.

  Now Jove no longer cou’d her suff’rings bear:

  But call’d in haste his airy Messenger,

  The son of Maya, with severe decree

  To kill the Keeper, and to set her free.

  With all his Harness soon the God was sped; 925

  His flying Hat was fastned on his Head;

  Wings on his Heels were hung, and in his Hand

  He holds the Virtue of the Snaky Wand.

  The liquid Air his moving Pinions wound,

  And, in the moment, shoot him on the ground. 930

  Before he came in sight, the crafty God

  His Wings dismiss’d, but still retain’d his Rod:

  That Sleep-procuring Wand wise Hermes took,

  But made it seem to sight, a Shepherd’s Hook.

  With this he did a Herd of Goats controul; 935

  Which by the way he met, and slily stole.

  Clad like a Country Swain, he Pip’d, and Sung;

  And playing drove his jolly Troop along.

  With pleasure, Argus the Musician heeds;

  But wonders much at those new vocal Reeds. 940

  And, Whosoe’re thou art, my Friend, said he,

  Up hither drive thy Goats, and play by me:

  This Hill has browz for them, and shade for thee.

  The God, who was with ease induc’d to climb,

  Began Discourse to pass away the time; 945

  And still, betwixt, his Tuneful Pipe he plyes;

  And watch’d his Hour, to close the Keeper’s Eyes.

  With much ado, he partly kept awake;

  Not suff’ring all his Eyes repose to take:

  And ask’d the Stranger, who did Reeds invent, 950

  And whence began so rare an Instrument?

  The Transformation of Syrinx

  into Reeds.

  Then Hermes thus; A Nymph of late there was,

  Whose Heav’nly form her Fellows did surpass.

  The Pride and Joy of Fair Arcadia’s plains;

  Belov’d by Deities, Ador’d by Swains: 955

  Syrinx her Name, by Sylvans oft pursu’d,

  As oft she did the Lustful Gods delude:

  The Rural, and the Woodland Pow’rs disdain’d;

  With Cynthia Hunted, and her Rites maintain’d;

  Like Phœbe clad, even Phœbe’s self she seems, 960

  So Tall, so Streight, such well-proportion’d Limbs:

  The nicest Eye did no distinction know,

  But that the Goddess bore a Golden Bow:

  Distinguish’d thus, the sight she cheated too.

  Descending from Lycæus, Pan admires 965

  The Matchless Nymph, and burns with new Desires.

  A Crown of Pine upon his Head he wore;

  And thus began her pity to implore.

  But e’re he thus began, she took her flight

  So swift, she was already out of sight. 970

  Nor staid to hear the Courtship of the God;

  But bent her course to Ladon’s gentle Flood:

  There by the River stopt, and, tyr’d before,

  Relief from water Nymphs her Pray’rs implore.

  Now while the Lustful God, with speedy pace, 975

  Just thought to strain her in a strict Embrace,

  He fills his Arms with Reeds, new rising on the place.

  And while he sighs his ill-success to find,

  The tender Canes were shaken by the wind;

  And breath’d a mournful Air, unhear’d before; 980

  That much surprizing Pan, yet pleas’d him more.

  Admiring this new Musick, Thou, he sed,

  Who can’st not be the Partner of my Bed,

  At least shalt be the Consort of my Mind;

  And often, often, to my Lips be joyn’d. 985

  He form’d the Reeds, proportion’d as they are:

  Unequal in their length, and wax’d with Care,

  They still retain the Name of his Ungrateful Fair.

  While Hermes pip’d, and sung, and told his tale,

  The Keeper’s winking Eyes began to fail, 990

  And drowsie slumber on the lids to creep;

  Till all the Watchman was, at length, asleep.

  Then soon the God his Voice and Song supprest;

  And with his pow’rful Rod confirm’d his rest:

  Without delay his crooked Faulchion drew, 995

  And at one fatal stroak the Keeper slew.

  Down from the Rock, fell the dissever’d head,

  Opening its Eyes in Death, and falling bled;

  And mark’d the passage with a crimson trail:

  Thus Argus lies in pieces, cold and pale; 1000

&nbs
p; And all his hundred Eyes, with all their light,

  Are clos’d at once in one perpetual night.

  These Juno takes, that they no more may fail,

  And spreads them in her Peacock’s gaudy tail.

  Impatient to revenge her injur’d Bed, 1005

  She wreaks her Anger on her Rival’s head;

  With furies frights her from her Native Home,

  And drives her gadding, round the World to roam:

  Nor ceas’d her madness and her flight, before

  She touch’d the limits of the Pharian Shore. 1010

  At length, arriving on the Banks of Nile,

  Weary’d with length of ways, and worn with toil,

  She laid her down: and, leaning on her Knees,

  Invok’d the Cause of all her Miseries:

  And cast her languishing regards above, 1015

  For help from Heav’n, and her ungrateful Jove.

  She sigh’d, she wept, she low’d; ’twas all she cou’d;

  And with Unkindness seem’d to tax the God.

  Last, with an humble Pray’r, she begg’d Repose,

  Or Death at least to finish all her Woes. 1020

  Jove heard her Vows, and with a flatt’ring look,

  In her behalf, to jealous Juno spoke.

  He cast his Arms about her Neck, and sed:

  Dame, rest secure; no more thy Nuptial Bed

  This Nymph shall violate; by Styx I swear, 1025

  And every Oath that binds the Thunderer.

  The Goddess was appeas’d: and at the word

  Was Io to her former shape restor’d.

  The rugged Hair began to fall away;

  The Sweetness of her Eyes did only stay, 1030

  Tho’ not so large; her crooked Horns decrease;

  The wideness of her Jaws and Nostrils cease:

  Her Hoofs to Hands return, in little space:

  The five long taper Fingers take their place;

  And nothing of the Heyfar now is seen, 1035

  Beside the native whiteness of the Skin.

  Erected on her Feet she walks again,

  And Two the duty of the Four sustain.

  She tries her Tongue, her silence softly breaks,

  And fears her former lowings when she speaks: 1040

  A Goddess now through all th’ Egyptian State;

  And serv’d by Priests, who in white Linnen wait.

  Her son was Epaphus, at length believ’d

  The Son of Jove, and as a God receiv’d:

  With Sacrifice ador’d, and publick Pray’rs, 1045

  He common Temples with his Mother shares.

  Equal in years, and Rival in Renown

  With Epaphus, the youthful Phaeton,

  Like Honour claims, and boasts his Sire the Sun.

  His haughty Looks, and his assuming Air 1050

  The Son of Isis cou’d no longer bear:

  Thou tak’st thy Mother’s Word too far, said he,

  And hast usurp’d thy boasted Pedigree.

  Go base Pretender to a borrow’d Name.

  Thus tax’d, he blush’d with anger, and with shame; 1055

  But shame repress’d his Rage: the daunted Youth

  Soon seeks his Mother, and inquires the truth:

  Mother, said he, this Infamy was thrown

  By Epaphus on you, and me your Son.

  He spoke in publick, told it to my face; 1060

  Nor durst I vindicate the dire disgrace:

  Ev’n I, the bold, the sensible of wrong,

  Restrain’d by Shame, was forc’d to hold my Tongue.

  To hear an open Slander is a Curse:

  But not to find an Answer, is a worse. 1065

  If I am Heav’n-begot, assert your Son

  By some sure Sign; and make my Father known,

  To right my Honour, and redeem your own.

  He said, and saying cast his arms about

  Her Neck, and begg’d her to resolve the Doubt. 1070

  ’Tis hard to judge if Climenè were mov’d

  More by his Pray’r, whom she so dearly lov’d,

  Or more with fury fir’d, to find her Name

  Traduc’d, and made the sport of common Fame.

  She stretch’d her Arms to Heav’n, and fix’d her Eyes 1075

  On that fair Planet, that adorns the Skies;

  Now by those Beams, said she, whose holy Fires

  Consume my Breast, and kindle my desires;

  By him who sees us both, and chears our sight,

  By him the publick Minister of light, 1080

  I swear that Sun begot thee: if I lye,

  Let him his chearful Influence deny:

  Let him no more this perjur’d Creature see;

  And shine on all the World, but only me:

  If still you doubt your Mother’s Innocence, 1085

  His Eastern Mansion is not far from hence;

  With little pains you to his Levè go,

  And from himself your Parentage may know.

  With joy th’ ambitious Youth his Mother heard,

  And eager, for the Journey soon prepar’d. 1090

  He longs the World beneath him to survey;

  To guide the Chariot; and to give the day:

  From Meroë’s burning Sands he bends his course,

  Nor less in India feels his Father’s force;

  His Travel urging, till he came in sight, 1095

  And saw the Palace by the Purple light.

  Meleager and Atalanta, Out of the Eighth Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses

  Connexion to the Former Story

  Ovid, having told how Theseus had freed Athens from the Tribute of Children, (which was impos’d on them by Minos, King of Creta) by killing the Minotaur, here makes a Digression to the Story of Meleager and Atalanta, which is one of the most inartificial Connexions in all the Metamorphoses: For he only says, that Theseus obtain’d such Honour from that Combate, that all Greece had recourse to him in their Necessities; and, amongst others, Calydon, though the Heroe of that Country, Prince Meleager, was then living.

  FROM him, the Caledonians sought Relief;

  Tho’ valiant Meleagrus was their Chief.

  The Cause, a Boar, who ravag’d far and near:

  Of Cynthia’s Wrath th’ avenging Minister.

  For Oeneus with Autumnal Plenty bless’d, 5

  By Gifts to Heav’n his Gratitude express’d:

  Cull’d Sheafs, to Ceres; to Lyæus, Wine;

  To Pan, and Pales, offer’d Sheep and Kine;

  And Fat of Olives, to Minerva’s shrine.

  Beginning from the Rural Gods, his Hand 10

  Was lib’ral to the Pow’rs of high Command:

  Each Deity in ev’ry kind was bless’d,

  Till at Diana’s Fane th’ invidious Honour ceas’d.

  Wrath touches ev’n the Gods; the Queen of Night

  Fir’d with Disdain, and jealous of her Right, 15

  Unhonour’d though I am, at least, said she,

  Not unreveng’d that impious Act shall be.

  Swift as the Word, she sped the Boar away,

  With Charge on those devoted Fields to prey.

  No larger Bulls th’ Ægyptian Pastures feed, 20

  And none so large Sicilian Meadows breed:

  His Eye-balls glare with Fire, suffus’d with Blood;

  His Neck shoots up a thick-set thorny Wood;

  His bristled Back a Trench impal’d appears,

  And stands erected, like a Field of Spears. 25

  Froth fills his Chaps, he sends a grunting Sound,

  And part he churns, and part befoams the Ground.

  For Tusks with Indian Elephants he strove,

  And love’s own Thunder from his Mouth he drove.

  He burns the Leaves; the scorching Blast invades 30

  The tender Corn, and shrivels up the Blades:

  Or suff’ring not their yellow Beards to rear,

  He tramples down the Spikes, and intercepts the Year.


  In vain the Barns expect their promis’d Load,

  Nor Barns at home, nor Reeks are heap’d abroad: 35

  In vain the Hinds the Threshing-Floor prepare,

  And exercise their Flails in empty Air.

  With Olives ever-green the Ground is strow’d,

  And Grapes ungather’d shed their gen’rous Blood.

  Amid the Fold he rages, nor the Sheep 40

  Their Shepherds, nor the Grooms their Bulls can keep.

  From Fields to Walls the frighted Rabble run,

  Nor think themselves secure within the Town:

  Till Meleagros, and his chosen Crew,

  Contemn the Danger, and the Praise pursue. 45

  Fair Leda’s Twins (in time to Stars decreed)

  One fought on Foot, one curb’d the fiery Steed;

  Then issued forth fam’d Jason after These,

  Who mann’d the foremost Ship that sail’d the Seas;

  Then Theseus, join’d with bold Perithous, came, 50

  A single Concord in a double Name:

  The Thestian Sons, Idas who swiftly ran,

  And Ceneus, once a Woman, now a Man.

  Lynceus, with Eagles Eyes, and Lions Heart

  Leucippus, with his never-erring Dart; 55

  Acastus, Phileus, Phœnix, Telamon,

  Echion, Lelex, and Eurytion,

  Achilles Father, and great Phocus Son;

  Dryas the Fierce, and Hippasus the Strong;

  With twice old Iolas, and Nestor then but young, 60

  Laertes active, and Ancæus bold;

  Mopsus the Sage, who future Things foretold;

  And t’other Seer, yet by his Wife unsold.

  A thousand others of immortal Fame;

  Among the rest, fair Atalanta came, 65

  Grace of the Woods: A Diamond Buckle bound

  Her Vest behind, that else had flow’d upon the Ground,

  And shew’d her buskin’d Legs; her Head was bare,

  But for her Native Ornament of Hair;

  Which in a simple Knot was ty’d above, 70

  Sweet Negligence! unheeded Bait of Love!

  Her sounding Quiver on her shoulder ty’d,

  One Hand a Dart, and one a Bow supply’d.

  Such was her Face, as in a Nymph display’d

  A fair fierce Boy, or in a Boy betray’d 75

  The blushing Beauties of a modest Maid.

  The Caledonian Chief at once the Dame

  Beheld, at once his Heart receiv’d the Flame,

  With Heav’ns averse. O happy Youth, he cry’d;

  For whom thy Fates reserve so fair a Bride! 80

  He sigh’d, and had no leisure more to say

  His Honour call’d his Eyes another way,

  And forced him to pursue the now neglected Prey.

  There stood a Forest on a Mountains Brow,