The Poetical Works of John Dryden

care;

Then, loathing life, and plung'd in deep despair,

To finish my unhappy life, I fell

On this sharp sword, and now am damn'd in hell.

"Short was her joy; for soon th' insulting maid

By Heav'n's decree in the cold grave was laid,

And, as in unrepenting sin she died, Doom'd to the same bad place, is punish'd for her pride;

169 Because she deem'd I well deserv'd to die, And made a merit of her cruelty. There, then, we met; both tried and both

were cast,

And this irrevocable sentence pass'd;

That she, whom I so long pursued in vain, Should suffer from my hands a ling'ring

pain:

Renew'd to life that she might daily die,
I daily doom'd to follow, she to fly.
No more a lover, but a mortal foe,
I seek her life (for love is none below):
As often as my dogs with better speed 180
Arrest her flight, is she to death decreed.
Then with this fatal sword, on which I died,
I pierce her open'd back, or tender side,
And tear that harden'd heart from out her
breast,

Which, with her entrails, makes my hungry hounds a feast.

Nor lies she long, but, as her fates ordain, Springs up to life, and fresh to second pain;

Is sav'd to-day, to-morrow to be slain." This, vers'd in death, th' infernal knight relates,

Her heart and bowels thro' her back he drew,

And fed the hounds that help'd him to pursue.

Stern look'd the fiend, as frustrate of his will,

Not half suffic'd, and greedy yet to kill. And now the soul, expiring thro' the wound,

Had left the body breathless on the ground,

When thus the grisly specter spoke again:
"Behold the fruit of ill-rewarded pain:
As many months as I sustain'd her hate,
So many years is she condemn'd by fate 200
To daily death; and ev'ry several place
Conscious of her disdain, and my disgrace,
Must witness her just punishment, and be
A scene of triumph and revenge to me.
As in this grove I took my last farewell,
As on this very spot of earth I fell,
As Friday saw me die, so she my prey
Becomes ev'n here, on this revolving day."
Thus while he spoke, the virgin from the
ground
Upstarted fresh, already clos'd the wound,
And, unconcern'd for all she felt before,
Precipitates her flight along the shore.

209

The hellhounds, as ungorg'd with flesh and blood,

Pursue their prey, and seek their wonted

FABLES

Resolv'd within himself to shun the snare
Which Hell for his destruction did prepare;
And, as his better genius should direct,
From an ill cause to draw a good effect. 230
Inspir'd from Heav'n, he homeward took
his way,

Nor pall'd his new design with long delay;
But of his train a trusty servant sent,
To call his friends together at his tent.
They came, and, usual salutations paid,
With words premeditated thus he said:
"What you have often counsel'd, to remove
My vain pursuit of unregarded love,
By thrift my sinking fortune to repair,
Tho' late, yet is at last become my care: 240
My heart shall be my own; my vast
expense

Reduc'd to bounds, by timely providence.
This only I require; invite for me
Honoria, with her father's family,

Her friends, and mine; the cause I shall
display,

On Friday next, for that's th' appointed day."

Well pleas'd were all his friends, the
task was light;

The father, mother, daughter, they invite;
Hardly the dame was drawn to this repast;
But yet resolv'd, because it was the last.
The day was come, the guests invited

came,

250

And, with the rest, th' inexorable dame;
A feast prepar'd with riotous expense,
Much cost, more care, and most magnifi-

cence.

The place ordain'd was in that haunted grove

Where the revenging ghost pursued his
love;

The tables in a proud pavilion spread,
With flow'rs below, and tissue overhead:
The rest in rank; Honoria, chief in place,
Was artfully contriv'd to set her face 260
To front the thicket, and behold the
chase.

The feast was serv'd, the time so well fore-
cast,

That just when the dessert and fruits were plac'd,

The fiend's alarm began; the hollow

sound

Last came the felon, on the sable steed, Arm'd with his naked sword, and urg'd his dogs to speed.

She ran, and cried; her flight directly bent (A guest unbidden) to the fatal tent, The scene of death, and place ordain'd for punishment.

Loud was the noise, aghast was every guest; The women shriek'd, the men forsook the feast;

The hounds at nearer distance hoarsely bay'd;

The hunter close pursued the visionary maid;

280

She rent the heav'n with loud laments, imploring aid.

The gallants, to protect the lady's right,

Their fauchions brandish'd at the grisly sprite;

High on his stirrups he provok'd the

fight.

Then on the crowd he cast a furious look, And wither'd all their strength before he strook:

"Back, on your lives! let be," said he, "my

prey,

And let my vengeance take the destin'd way. Vain are your arms, and vainer your defense,

Against th' eternal doom of Providence: 290 Mine is th' ungrateful maid by Heav'n design'd;

Mercy she would not give, nor mercy shall

she find."

At this the former tale again he told
With thund'ring tone, and dreadful to be-

hold.

Sunk were their hearts with horror of the
crime,

Nor needed to be warn'd a second time,
But bore each other back: some knew the

face,

And all had heard the much lamented

case

Of him who fell for love, and this the
fatal place.

200

Sick at the sight of hateful justice done; For conscience rung th' alarm, and made the case their own.

So spread upon a lake, with upward eye, A plump of fowl behold their foe on high; They close their trembling troop, and all attend

On whom the sousing eagle will descend.

But most the proud Honoria fear'd th’ event,

And thought to her alone the vision sent. 320 Her guilt presents to her distracted mind Heav'n's justice, Theodore's revengeful kind,

And the same fate to the same sin

But fear, the last of ills, remain'd behind, And horror heavy sat on ev'ry mind. Nor Theodore incourag'd more his feast, 340 But sternly look'd, as hatching in his breast Some deep design; which when Honoria view'd,

The fresh impulse her former fright renew'd:

She thought herself the trembling dame who fled,

And him the grisly ghost that spurr'd th' infernal steed;

The more dismay'd, for when the guests withdrew,

Their courteous host, saluting all the crew, Regardless pass'd her o'er, nor grac'd with kind adieu.

That sting infix'd within her haughty mind,

The downfall of her empire she divin'd; And her proud heart with secret sorrow pin'd.

351

Home as they went, the sad discourse renew❜d,

Of the relentless dame to death pursued, And of the sight obscene so lately view'd. None durst arraign the righteous doom she bore;

Ev'n they who pitied most, yet blam'd her

FABLES

Fear of her life by hellish hounds assail'd:
He took a low'ring leave, but who can tell
What outward hate might inward love con-
ceal?

Her sex's arts she knew, and why not, then,
Might deep dissembling have a place in

men ?

400

Here hope began to dawn; resolv'd to try,
She fix'd on this her utmost remedy:
Death was behind, but hard it was to die.
'T was time enough at last on death to call,
The precipice in sight: a shrub was all
That kindly stood betwixt to break the
fatal fall.

One maid she had, belov'd above the rest;
Secure of her, the secret she confess'd;
And now the cheerful light her fears dis-

pell'd,

She with no winding turns the truth con

ceal'd,

But put the woman off, and stood reveal'd:

That father, mother, and the kin beside,
Were overborne by fury of the tide:
With full consent of all she chang'd her
state,

Resistless in her love, as in her hate.

By her example warn'd, the rest beware; More easy, less imperious, were the fair; And that one hunting, which the devil design'd

For one fair female, lost him half the kind.

CEYX AND ALCYONE

[OUT OF THE ELEVENTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES]

CONNECTION OF THIS FABLE WITH THE
FORMER

Ceyx, the son of Lucifer (the morning star) and King of Trachin, in Thessaly, was married to Alcyone, daughter to olus, God of the Winds. Both the husband and the wife lov'd each other with an entire affection. Dædalion, the elder brother of Ceyx (whom he succeeded), having been turn'd into a falcon by Apollo, and Chione, Dædalion's daughter, slain by Diana, Ceyx prepares a ship to sail to Claros, there to consult the oracle of Apollo, and (as Ovid seems to intimate) to enquire how the anger of the gods might be aton'd.

THESE prodigies afflict the pious prince,
But, more perplex'd with those that hap-
pen'd since,

He purposes to seek the Clarian god,
Avoiding Delphos, his more fam'd abode,
Since Phlegyan robbers made unsafe the

road.

The more I know, the more my fears aug ment;

And fears are oft prophetic of th' event.
But if not fears or reasons will prevail,
If fate has fix'd thee obstinate to sail,
Go not without thy wife, but let me bear
My part of danger with an equal share, 50
And present, what I suffer, only fear:
Then o'er the bounding billows shall we
fly,

Secure to live together, or to die."

These reasons mov'd her starlike hus-
band's heart,

But still he held his purpose to depart:
For, as he lov'd her equal to his life,
He would not to the seas expose his wife;
Nor could be wrought his voyage to refrain,
But sought by arguments to soothe her
pain.

Nor these avail'd; at length he lights on one, With which so difficult a cause he won: 20 "My love, so short an absence cease to fear, For, by my father's holy flame, I swear, Before two moons their orb with light adorn,

What can thy mind to this long journey

move,

Or need'st thou absence to renew thy love? Yet, if thou go'st by land, tho' grief pos

sess

My soul ev'n then, my fears will be the less.

But ah! be warn'd to shun the wat'ry way-
The face is frightful of the stormy sea;
For late I saw adrift disjointed planks,
And empty tombs erected on the banks.
Nor let false hopes to trust betray thy
mind,

Because my sire in caves constrains the wind,

Can with a breath their clam'rous rage appease;

They fear his whistle, and forsake the seas. Not so, for, once indulg'd, they sweep the main,

Deaf to the call, or, hearing, hear in vain; But, bent on mischief, bear the waves before,

And, not content with seas, insult the shore; When ocean, air, and earth, at once ingage, And rooted forests fly before their rage: At once the clashing clouds to battle move, And lightnings run across the fields above. I know them well, and mark'd their rude comport,

While yet a child, within my father's court: In times of tempest they command alone, And he but sits precarious on the throne.

If Heav'n allow me life, I will return."

This promise of so short a stay prevails: He soon equips the ship, supplies the sails, And gives the word to launch; she trembling views

This pomp of death, and parting tears re

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