His eyes have seen his numerous rivals yield;
Let him too share the rigour of the field,
Since, by their fates untaught, his own he courts,
And thus with ruin insolently sports.
Yet for what crime shall he his death receive?
Is it a crime with me to wish to live?
Shall his kind passion his destruction prove?
Is this the fatal recompense of love?
So fair a youth destroy’d, would conquest shame,
And nymphs eternally detest my fame.
Still why should nymphs my guiltless fame upbraid?
Did I the fond adventurer persuade?
Alas! I wish thou wouldst the course decline,
Or that my swiftness was excell’d by thine.
See what a virgin’s bloom adorns the boy!
Why wilt thou run, and why thyself destroy?
Hippomenes! oh that I ne’er had been
By those bright eyes unfortunately seen!
Ah! tempt not thus a swift untimely fate;
Thy life is worthy of the longest date.’
“Thus she disclosed the woman’s secret heart,
Young, innocent, and new to Cupid’s dart.
Her thoughts, her words, her actions, wildy rove,
With love she burns, yet knows not that ’tis love.
“Her royal sire now with the murm’ring crowd.
Demands the race impatiently aloud.
Hippomenes then with true fervour pray’d:
‘My bold attempt let Venus kindly aid:
By her sweet power I felt this amorous fire;
Still may she succour whom she did inspire.’
A soft, unenvious wind, with speedy care,
Wafted to heaven the lover’s tender prayer.
Pity, I own, soon gain’d the wish’d consent,
And all the assistance he implored I lent.
The Cyprian lands, though rich, in richness yield
To that surnamed the Tamasenian field:
That field of old was added to my shrine,
And its choice products consecrated mine:
A tree there stands, full glorious to behold,
Gold are the leaves, the crackling branches gold,
It chanced, three apples in my hands I bore,
Which newly from the tree I sportive tore;
Seen by the youth alone, to him I brought
The fruit, and when and how to use it taught.
The signal sounding by the king’s command,
Both start at once, and sweep the imprinted sand:
So swiftly moved their feet, they might with ease,
Scarce moisten’d, skim along the glassy seas;
Or, with a wondrous levity be borne
O’er yellow harvests of unbending corn.
Now favouring peals resound from every part,
Spirit the youth, and fire his fainting heart.
‘Hippomenes!’ they cried, ‘thy life preserve,
Intensely labour, and stretch every nerve:
Base fear alone can baffle thy design;
Shoot boldly onward, and the gaol is thine.’
’Tis doubtful whether shouts like these convey’d
More pleasures to the youth or to the maid.
When a long distance oft she could have gain’d,
She check’d her swiftness, and her feet restrain’d:
She sigh’d, and dwelt, and languish’d, on his face,
Then with unwilling speed pursued the race.
O’erspent with heat, his breath he faintly drew,
Parch’d was his mouth, nor yet the gaol in view,
And the first apple on the plain he threw.
The nymph stopp’d sudden at the unusual sight,
Struck with the fruit so beautifully bright.
Aside she starts, the wonder to behold,
And eager stoops to catch the rolling gold.
The observant youth pass’d by, and scour’d along,
While peals of joy rung from the applauding throng.
Unkindly she corrects the short delay,
And to redeem the time fleets swift away,
Swift as the lightning, or the northern wind,
And far she leaves the panting youth behind.
Again he strives the flying nymph to hold
With the temptation of the second gold:
The bright temptation fruitlessly was toss’d
So soon, alas! she won the distance lost.
Now but a little interval of space
Remain’d for the decision of the race.
‘Fair author of the precious gift,’ he said,
‘Be thou, oh goddess, author of my aid!’
Then of the shining fruit the last he drew,
And with his full-collected vigour threw;
The virgin still the longer to detain,
Threw not directly, but across the plain.
She seem’d a while perplex’d in dubious thought,
If the far distant apple should be sought:
I lured her backward mind to seize the bait,
And to the massy gold gave double weight:
My favour to my votary was show’d;
Her speed I lessen’d, and increased her load.
But lest, though long, the rapid race he run,
Before my longer, tedious tale is done,
The youth the gaol, and so the virgin, won.
“Might I, Adonis, now not hope to see
His grateful thanks pour’d out for victory?
His pious incense on my altars laid?
But he nor grateful thanks, nor incense paid.
Enraged, I vow’d, that with the youth the fair,
For his contempt, should my keen vengeance share:
That future lovers might my power revere,
And, from their sad examples, learn to fear.
The silent fanes, the sanctified abodes,
Of Cybele, great mother of the gods,
Raised by Echion in a lonely wood,
And full of brown, religious horror stood:
By a long painful Journey faint, they chose
Their weary limbs here secret to repose.
But soon my power inflamed the lustful boy;
Careless of rest, he sought untimely joy.
A hallow’d gloomy cave, with moss o’ergrown,
The temple join’d, of native pumice stone,
Where antique images by priests were kept,
And wooden deities securely slept;
Thither the rash Hippomenes retires,
And gives a loose to all his wild desires,
And the chaste cell pollutes with wanton fires.
The sacred statues trembled with surprise;
The towery goddess, blushing, veil’d her eyes,
And the vile pair to Stygian sounds had sent;
But unrevengeful seem’d that punishment:
A heavier doom such black profaneness draws—
Their taper fingers turn to crooked paws:
No more their necks the smoothness can retain,
Now cover’d sudden with a yellow mane:
Arms change to legs: each finds the hard’ning breast
Of rage unknown, and wond’rous strength possess’d:
Their alter’d looks with fury grim appear;
And on the ground their brushing tails they bear:
They haunt the woods: their voices, which before
Were musically sweet, now hoarsely roar.
Hence lions, dreadful to the lab’ring swains,
Are tamed by Cybele, and curb’d with reins,
And humbly draw her car along the plains.
‘But thou, Adonis, my delightful care,
Of these, and beasts as fierce as these, beware!
The savage, which not shuns thee, timely shun;
For by rash prowess shouldst thou be undone,
A double ruin is contain’d in one.’ ”
Thus cautious Venus school’d her favourite boy;
But youthful heat all cautions will destroy.
His sprightly soul beyond grave counsel flies,
While with yoked swans the goddess cuts the skies
His faithful hounds, led by the tainted wind,
Lodged in thick coverts chanced a boar to find.
The callow hero show’d a manly heart,
And pierced the savage with a sidelong dart:
The flying savage, wounded, turn’d again,
Wrench’d out the gory dart, and foam’d with
