Cycnus beheld the nymphs transform’d, allied
To their dead brother on the mortal side,
In friendship and affection nearer bound,
He left the cities and the realms he own’d,
Through pathless fields and lonely shores to range,
And woods made thicker by the sisters’ change.
While here within the dismal gloom alone,
The melancholy monarch made his moan,
His voice was lessen’d as he tried to speak,
And issued through a long extended neck;
His hair transforms to down, his fingers meet
In skinny films and shape his oary feet;
From both his sides the wings and feathers break,
And from his mouth proceeds a blunted beak:
All Cycnus now into a swan was turn’d,
Who, still remembering how his kinsman burn’d,
To solitary pools and lakes retires,
And loves the waters as opposed to fires.
Meanwhile Apollo, in the gloomy shade
(The native lustre of his brows decay’d),
Indulging sorrow, sickens at the sight
Of his own sunshine, and abhors the light.
The hidden griefs that in his bosom rise,
Sadden his looks and overcast his eyes,
As when some dusky orb obstructs his ray,
And sullies, in a dim eclipse, the day.
Now secretly with inward griefs he pined,
Now warm resentments to his grief he join’d,
And now renounced his office to mankind.
“E’er since the birth of time,” said he, “I’ve borne
A long ungrateful toil without return;
Let now some other manage, if he dare,
The fiery steeds, and mount the burning car;
Or, if none else, let Jove his fortune try,
And learn to lay his murd’ring thunder by;
Then will he own, perhaps, but own too late,
My son deserved not so severe a fate.”
The gods stand round him, as he mourns, and pray
He would resume the conduct of the day,
Nor let the world be lost in endless night;
Jove too himself, descending from his height,
Excuses what had happen’d, and entreats,
Majestically mixing prayers and threats.
Prevail’d upon at length, again he took
The harness’d steeds, that still with horror shook,
And plies them with the lash, and whips them on,
And, as he whips, upbraids them with his son.
Story of Calisto
Calisto, a nymph in the train of Diana, is seduced by Jupiter, under the form of that goddess, and is delivered of a son, named Arcas Juno transforms Calisto into the shape of a bear; but Jupiter removes both mother and child to the celestial mansions, where they are converted into a constellation called the Bear.
The day was settled in its course, and Jove
Walk’d the wide circuit of the heavens above.
To search if any cracks or flaws were made;
But all was safe: the earth he then survey’d,
And cast an eye on ev’ry different coast,
And ev’ry land, but on Arcadia most.
Her fields he clothed, and cheer’d her blasted face
With running fountains and with springing grass.
No tracks of heaven’s destructive fire remain,
The fields and woods revive, and nature smiles again.
But as the god walk’d to and fro the earth,
And raised the plants, and gave the spring its birth,
By chance a fair Arcadian nymph he view’d,
And felt the lovely charmer in his blood.
The nymph nor spun nor dress’d with artful pride.
Her vest was gather’d up, her hair was tied:
Now in her hand a slender spear she bore,
Now a light quiver on her shoulders wore;
To chaste Diana from her youth inclined,
The sprightly warriors of the wood she join’d.
Diana too the gentle huntress loved,
Nor was there one of all the nymphs that roved
O’er Maenalus, amid the maiden throng,
More favour’d once; but favour lasts not long.
The sun now shone in all its strength, and drove
The heated virgin panting to the grove:
The grove around a grateful shadow cast:
She dropp’d her arrows, and her bow unbraced;
She flung herself on the cool grassy bed,
And on the painted quiver raised her head.
Jove saw the charming huntress unprepared,
Stretch’d on the verdant turf, without a guard.
“Here I am safe,” he cries, “from Juno’s eye:
Or should my jealous queen the theft descry,
Yet I would venture on a theft like this,
And stand her rage, for such, for such a bliss!”
Diana’s shape and habit straight he took,
Soften’d his brows, and smooth’d his awful look,
And mildly in a female accent spoke:
“How fares my girl? how went the morning chase?”
To whom the virgin, starting from the grass,
“All hail! bright deity, whom I prefer
To Jove himself, though Jove himself were here.”
The god was nearer than she thought, and heard,
Well pleased, himself before himself preferr’d.
He then salutes her with a warm embrace;
And, ere she half had told the morning chase,
With love inflamed, and eager on his bliss:
Smother’d her words, and stopp’d her with a kiss:
His kisses with unwonted ardour glow’d,
Nor could Diana’s shape conceal the god.
Possess’d at length of what his heart desired,
Back to his heavens the exulting god retired.
But now Diana, with a sprightly train
Of quiver’d virgins, bounding o’er the plain,
Call’d to the nymph; the nymph began to fear
A second fraud, a Jove disguised in her;
But when she saw the sister nymphs, suppress’d
Her rising fears, and mingled with the rest.
How in the look does conscious guilt appear!
Slowly she moved, and loiter’d in the rear;
Nor lightly tripp’d, nor by the goddess ran,
As once she used, the foremost of the train;
Her looks were fush’d, and sullen was her mien,
That sure the virgin goddess (had she been
Aught but a virgin) must the guilt have seen.
’Tis said the nymphs saw all, and guess’d aright.
And now the moon had nine times lost her light,
When Dian, fainting in the midday beams,
Found a cool covert and refreshing streams,
That in soft murmurs through the forest flow’d,
And a smooth bed of shining gravel show’d.
A covert so obscure and streams so clear
The goddess praised: “And now no spies are near;
Let’s strip, my gentle maids, and wash,” she cries.
Pleased with the motion, every maid complies;
Only the blushing huntress stood confused,
And form’d delays, and her delays excused:
In vain excused; her fellows round her press’d,
And the reluctant nymph by force undress’d.
The naked huntress all her shame reveal’d,
In vain her hands her pregnancy conceal’d;
“Begone!” the goddess cries, with stern disdain,
“Begone! nor dare the hallow’d stream to stain.”
She fled, for ever banish’d from the train.
This Juno heard, who long had watch’d her time
To punish the detested rival’s crime;
The time was
