The fair beheld him with impatient eye,
And red with anger, made this warm reply.
Ungrateful man! is this the kind return
My love deferves? and can you thus with scorn
Reject what once you priz'd, what once you swore
Surpafs'd all charms, and made ev'n glory poor?
What gifts have I bestow'd, what favours fhewn!
Made you partaker of my bed and throne
Three centuries preferv'd in youthful prime,
Safe from the rage of death, and injuries of time.
Weak arguments! for glory reigns above
The feeble ties of gratitude and love.
I urge them not, nor would request your stay;
The phantom glory calls, and I obey;
All other virtues are regardlefs quite,
Sunk and abforb'd in that fuperior light.
Go then, barbarian, to thy realms return,
And fhew thyself unworthy my concern;
Go, tell the world, your tender heart could give
Death to the princefs, by whofe care you live.
At this a deadly pale her cheeks o'erspread,
Cold trembling feiz'd her limbs, her spirits fled;
She funk into his arms: the prince was mov'd,
Felt all her griefs, for ftill he greatly lov'd,
He figh'd, he wish'd he could forget his throne,
Confine his thoughts, and live for her alone;
But glory fhot him deep, the venom'd dart
Was fix'd within, and rankled at his heart;
He could not hide its wounds, but pin'd away
Like a fick flow'r, and languish'd in decay.
An age no longer like a month appears,
But every month becomes a hundred years.
Felicity was griev'd, and could not bear
A scene so chang'd, a fight of fo much care.
She told him with a look of cold difdain,
And seeming eafe, as women well can feign,
He might depart at will; a milder air
Would mend his health; he was no pris'ner there;
She kept him not, and wifh'd he ne'er might find
Cause to regret the place he left behind;
Which once he lov'd, and where he still must own,
He had at least some little pleasure known.
If these prophetic words awhile destroy
His peace, the former ballance it in joy.
He thank'd her for her kind concern, but chofe
To quit the place, the reft let heav'n dispose.
For Fate, on mischiefs bent, perverts the will,
And first infatuates whom it means to kill.
Aurora now, not, as fhe wont to rife, In gay attire ting'd with a thousand dies, But fober-fad in folemn ftate appears,
Clad in a dufky veil bedew'd with tears.
Thick mantling clouds beneath her chariot fpread,
A faded wreath hangs drooping from her head.
The fick❜ning fun emits a feeble ray,
Half drown'd in fogs, and struggling into day.
Some black event the threat'ning fkies foretel.
Porfenna rofe to take his laft farewel.
A curious veft the mournful princefs brought,
And armour by the Lemnian artist wrought;
A fhining lance with fecret virtue ftor'd,
And of refiftless force a magic fword;
Caparisons and gems of wond'rous price,
And loaded him with gifts and good advice;
But chief fhe gave, and what he most would need,
The fleetest of her ftud, a flying steed.
The fwift Grifippo, faid th' afflicted fair,
(Such was the courfer's name) with speed fhall bear, And place you fafely in your native air;
Affift against the foe, with matchless might
Ravage the field, and turn the doubtful fight;
With care protect you till the danger ceafe,
Your trust in war, your ornament in peace.
But this, I warn, beware; whate'er shall lay
To intercept your course, or tempt your stay,
Quit not your faddle, nor your speed abate,
'Till safely landed at your palace gate.
On this alone depends your weal or woe;
Such is the will of Fate, and fo the Gods foreshew,
He in the fofteft terms repaid her love,
And vow'd, nor age, nor abfence should remove
His conftant faith, and fure fhe could not blame
A fhort divorce due to his injur'd fame.
The debt discharg'd, then should her foldier come
Gay from the field, and flush'd with conquest, home;
With equal ardour her affection meet,
And lay his laurels at his mistress' feet.
He ceas'd, and fighing took a kind adieu;
Then urg'd his fteed; the fierce Grifippo flew ;
With rapid force outstripp'd the lagging wind,
And left the blissful fhores, and weeping fair behind;
Now o'er the feas purfued his airy flight,
[height.
Now fcower'd the plains, and climb'd the mountain's
Thus driving on at speed the prince had run
Near half his courfe, when, with the fetting fun,
As through a lonely lane he chanc'd to ride,
With rocks and bushes fenc'd on either fide,
He spied a waggon full of wings, that lay
Broke and o'erturn'd acrofs the narrow way.
The helpless driver on the dirty road
Lay ftruggling, crush'd beneath th' incumbent load.
Never in human shape was feen before
A wight fo pale, fo feeble, and fo poor.
Comparisons of age would do him wrong,
For Neftor's felf, if plac'd by him, were young.
His limbs were naked all, and worn fo thin,
The bones feem'd starting through the parchment skin,
His half drown'd in rheum, his accents weak,
Bald was his head, and furrow'd was his cheek.
The conscious fteed stopp'd fhort in deadly fright, And back recoiling ftretch'd his wings for flight. When thus the wretch with fupplicating tone, And rueful face, began his piteous moan, And, as he fpake, the tears ran trickling down. O gentle youth, if pity e'er inclin'd
Thy foul to gen'rous deeds, if e'er thy mind
Was touch'd with soft distress, extend thy care
To fave an old man's life, and ease the load I bear.
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