She stroked the virgin with her canker’d hand,
Then prickly thorns into her breast convey’d,
That stung to madness the devoted maid;
Her subtle venom still improves the smart,
Frets in the blood, and festers in the heart.
To make the work more sure, a scene she drew,
And placed before the dreaming virgin’s view
Her sister’s marriage, and her glorious fate;
The imaginary bride appears in state,
The bridegroom with unwonted beauty glows;
For envy magnifies whate’er she shows.
Full of the dream, Aglauros pin’d away
In tears all night, in darkness all the day;
Consumed like ice, that just begins to run,
When feebly smitten by the distant sun;
Or like unwholesome weeds, that, set on fire,
Are slowly wasted, and in smoke expire.
Given up to envy (for in every thought
The thorns, the venom, and the vision wrought),
Oft did she call on death, as oft decreed,
Rather than see her sister’s wish succeed,
To tell her awful father what had pass’d;
At length before the door herself she cast,
And, sitting on the ground with suilen pride,
A passage to the lovesick god denied.
The god caress’d and for admission pray’d,
And soothed in softest words the envenom’d maid.
In vain he soothed. “Begone!” the maid replies,
“Or here I keep my seat and never rise.”
“Then keep thy seat for ever,” cries the god,
And touch’d the door, wide opening to his rod.
Fain would she rise and stop him, but she found
Her trunk too heavy to forsake the ground;
Her joints are all benumb’d, her hands are pale,
And marble now appears in every nail.
As when a cancer in the body feeds,
And gradual death from limb to limb proceeds,
So does the chillness to each vital part
Spread by degrees, and creeps into her heart,
Till hardening everywhere, and speechless grown,
She sits unmoved, and freezes to a stone.
But still her envious hue and sullen mien
Are in ’he sedentary figure seen.
Europa’s Rape
Europa, the daughter of Agenor, is beloved by Jupiter, who assumes the shape of a bull, and mingles with the herd—The maiden caresses the beautiful animal, and at length ventures to sit on his back; when the god immediately hastens to the shore, and crosses the sea—He arrives safe at Crete with his mistress, where he resumes his original shape.
When now the god his fury had allay’d,
And taken vengeance of the stubborn maid,
From where the bright Athenian turrets rise
He mounts aloft, and reascends the skies.
Jove saw him enter the sublime abodes,
And, as he mix’d among the crowd of gods,
Beckon’d him out, and drew him from the rest,
And in soft whispers thus his will express’d:
“My trusty Hermes, by whose ready aid
Thy sire’s commands are through the world convey’d,
Resume thy wings, exert their utmost force,
And to the walls of Sidon speed thy course;
There find a herd of heifers wandering o’er
The neighb’ring hill, and drive them to the shore.”
Thus spoke the god, concealing his intent.
The trusty Hermes on his message went,
And found the herd of heifers wand’ring o’er
A neighb’ring hill, and drove them to the shore
Where the king’s daughter, with a lovely train
Of fellow-nymphs, was sporting on the plain.
The dignity of empire laid aside
(For love but ill agrees with kingly pride),
The ruler of the skies, the thund’ring god,
Who shakes the world’s foundations with a nod,
Among a herd of lowing heifers ran,
Frisk’d in a bull, and bellow’d o’er the plain.
Large rolls of fat about his shoulders clung,
And from his neck the double dewlap hung;
His skin was whiter than the snow that lies
Unsullied by the breath of southern skies:
Small shining horns on his curl’d forehead stand,
As turn’d and polish’d by the workman’s hand;
His eyeballs roll’d, not formidably bright,
But gazed and languish’d with a gentle light;
His every look was peaceful, and express’d
The softness of the lover in the beast.
Agenor’s royal daughter, as she play’d
Among the fields, the milk-white bull survey’d,
And view’d his spotless body with delight,
And at a distance kept him in her sight.
At length she pluck’d the rising flowers, and fed
The gentle beast, and fondly stroked his head.
He stood, well pleased to touch the charming fair,
But hardly could confine his pleasures there.
And now he wantons o’er the neighb’ring strand,
Now rolls his body on the yellow sand;
And, now perceiving all her fears decay’d,
Comes tossing forward to the royal maid.
Gives her his breast to stroke, and downward turns
His grisly brow, and gently stoops his horns.
In flowery wreaths the royal virgin dress’d
His bending horns, and kindly clapp’d his breast;
Till now grown wanton and devoid of fear,
Not knowing that she press’d the Thunderer,
She placed herself upon his back, and rode
O’er fields and meadows, seated on the god.
He gently march’d along, and by degrees
Left the dry meadow, and approach’d the seas,
Where now he dips his hoofs and wets his thighs,
Now plunges in, and carries off the prize.
The frighted nymph looks backward on the shore,
And hears the tumbling billows round her roar;
But still she holds him fast; one hand is borne
Upon his back, the other grasps a horn;
Her train of ruffling garments flies behind,
Swells in the air, and hovers in the wind.
Through storms and tempests he the virgin bore,
And lands her safe on the Dictaean shore;
Where now, in his divinest form array’d,
In his true shape he captivates the maid,
Who gazes on him, and with wond’ring eyes
Beholds the new majestic figure rise,
His glowing features, and celestial light,
And all the god discover’d to her sight.
Book III
Story of Cadmus
The sons of Agenor are despatched by their father in quest of their sister, with injunctions never to return until they find her—Cadmus consults the oracle of Apollo, and is directed to build a city where he shall see a young heifer stop in the grass, and to call the country Boeotia: he finds the heifer according to the instructions of the oracle, and sends his companions in search of water, all of whom are devoured by a dragon, which is destroyed by Cadmus with the assistance of Minerva—The goddess commands the hero to sow the monster’s teeth in the plain, which is no sooner performed than armed men instantly spring from the ground, who direct their rage against each other, till all perish except five, who assist Cadmus
