The Works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 12

MELEAGER AND ATALANTA, OUT OF THE EIGHTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES

CONNECTION TO THE FORMER STORY

Ovid, having told how Theseus had freed Athens from the tribute of children, which was imposed on them by Minos king of Crete, by killing the Minotaur, here makes a digression to the story of Meleager and Atalanta, which is one of the most inartificial connections in all the Metamorphoses; for he only says, that Theseus obtained such honour from that combat, that all Greece had recourse to him in their necessities; and, amongst others, Calydon, though the hero of that country, prince Meleager, was then living.

 
From him the Caledonians sought relief;
Though valiant Meleagrus was their chief.
The cause, a boar, who ravaged far and near;
Of Cynthia's wrath, the avenging minister.
For Oenius with autumnal plenty blessed,
By gifts to heaven his gratitude expressed;
Culled sheafs, to Ceres; to Lyæus, wine; }
To Pan and Pales, offered sheep and kine;}
And fat of olives to Minerva's shrine. }
Beginning from the rural gods, his hand
Was liberal to the powers of high command;
Each deity in every kind was blessed,
Till at Diana's fane the invidious honour ceased.
Wrath touches even the gods; the Queen of Night,
Fired with disdain, and jealous of her right,
Unhonoured though I am, at least, said she,
Not unrevenged that impious act shall be.
Swift as the word, she sped the boar away,
With charge on those devoted fields to prey.
No larger bulls the Egyptian pastures feed,
And none so large Sicilian meadows breed:
His eye-balls glare with fire, suffused with blood;
His neck shoots up a thick-set thorny wood;
His bristled back a trench impaled appears,
And stands erected, like a field of spears;
Froth fills his chaps, he sends a grunting sound,
And part he churns, and part befoams the ground;
For tusks with Indian elephants he strove,
And Jove's own thunder from his mouth he drove.
He burns the leaves; the scorching blast invades
The tender corn, and shrivels up the blades;
Or, suffering not their yellow beards to rear,
He tramples down the spikes, and intercepts the year.
In vain the barns expect their promised load,
Nor barns at home, nor ricks are heaped abroad;
In vain the hinds the threshing-floor prepare,
And exercise their flails in empty air.
With olives ever green the ground is strowed,
And grapes ungathered shed their generous blood.
Amid the fold he rages, nor the sheep
Their shepherds, nor the grooms their bulls, can keep.
From fields to walls the frighted rabble run,
Nor think themselves secure within the town;
Till Melegarus, and his chosen crew,
Contemn the danger, and the praise pursue.
Fair Leda's twins, (in time to stars decreed,)
One fought on foot, one curbed the fiery steed;
Then issued forth famed Jason after these,
Who manned the foremost ship that sailed the seas;
Then Theseus, joined with bold Pirithous, came;
A single concord in a double name:
The Thestian sons, Idas, who swiftly ran,
And Ceneus, once a woman, now a man.
Lynceus, with eagle's eyes, and lion's heart;
Leucippus, with his never-erring dart;
Acastus, Phileus, Phœnix, Telamon, }
Echion, Lelex, and Eurytion, }
Achilles' father, and great Phocus' son;}
Dryas the fierce, and Hippasus the strong
With twice-old Iolas, and Nestor then but young;
Laertes active, and Ancæus bold; }
Mopsus the sage, who future things foretold;}
And t'other seer,²⁴ yet by his wife unsold.}
A thousand others of immortal fame;
Among the rest, fair Atalanta came,
Grace of the woods: a diamond buckle bound
Her vest behind, that else had flow'd upon the ground,
And shew'd her buskin'd legs; her head was bare,
But for her native ornament of hair,
Which in a simple knot was tied above, —
Sweet negligence, unheeded bait of love!
Her sounding quiver on her shoulder tied,
One hand a dart, and one a bow supplied.
Such was her face, as in a nymph displayed}
A fair fierce boy, or in a boy betrayed }
The blushing beauties of a modest maid. }
The Caledonian chief at once the dame
Beheld, at once his heart received the flame,
With heavens averse. O happy youth, he cried,
For whom thy fates reserve so fair a bribe!
He sighed, and had no leisure more to say; }
His honour called his eyes another way, }
And force him to pursue the now neglected prey.}
There stood a forest on the mountain's brow,
Which overlooked the shaded plains below;
No sounding axe presumed those trees to bite,
Coeval with the world, a venerable sight.
The heroes there arrived, some spread around }
The toils, some search the footsteps on the ground,}
Some from the chains the faithful dogs unbound. }
Of action eager, and intent on thought,
The chiefs their honourable danger sought:
A valley stood below; the common drain
Of waters from above, and falling rain;
The bottom was a moist and marshy ground,
Whose edges were with bending osiers crowned;
The knotty bulrush next in order stood,
And all within, of reeds a trembling wood.
From hence the boar was roused, and sprung amain,
Like lightning sudden on the warrior-train;
Beats down the trees before him, shakes the ground,}
The forest echoes to the crackling sound; }
Shout the fierce youth, and clamours ring around. }
All stood with their protended spears prepared,
With broad steel heads the brandished weapons glared.
The beast impetuous with his tusks aside }
Deals glancing wounds; the fearful dogs divide;}
All spend their mouth aloft, but none abide. }
Echion threw the first, but missed his mark,
And stuck his boar-spear on a maple's bark.
Then Jason; and his javelin seemed to take,
But failed with over-force, and whizzed above his back.
Mopsus was next; but, ere he threw, addressed
To Phœbus thus: O patron, help thy priest!
If I adore, and ever have adored
Thy power divine, thy present aid afford,
That I may reach the beast! – The god allowed
His prayer, and, smiling, gave him what he could:
He reached the savage, but no blood he drew;
Dian unarmed the javelin as it flew.
This chafed the boar, his nostrils flames expire,
And his red eye-balls roll with living fire.
Whirled from a sling, or from an engine thrown,
Amidst the foes so flies a mighty stone,
As flew the beast: the left wing put to flight,
The chiefs o'erborne, he rushes on the right.
Empalamos and Pelagon he laid
In dust, and next to death, but for their fellows' aid.
Onesimus fared worse, prepared to fly;
The fatal fang drove deep within his thigh,
And cut the nerves; the nerves no more sustain
The bulk; the bulk unprop'd, falls headlong on the plain.
Nestor had failed the fall of Troy to see,
But, leaning on his lance, he vaulted on a tree;
Then, gathering up his feet, looked down with fear,
And thought his monstrous foe was still too near.
Against a stump his tusk the monster grinds,
And in the sharpened edge new vigour finds;
Then, trusting to his arms, young Othrys found,
And ranched his hips with one continued wound.
Now Leda's twins, the future stars, appear;
White were their habits, white their horses were;
Conspicuous both, and both in act to throw,
Their trembling lances brandished at the foe:
Nor had they missed; but he to thickets fled,
Concealed from aiming spears, not pervious to the steed.
But Telamon rushed in, and happed to meet
A rising root, that held his fastened feet;
So down he fell, whom, sprawling on the ground,
His brother from the wooden gyves unbound.
Meantime the virgin-huntress was not slow
To expel the shaft from her contracted bow.
Beneath his ear the fastened arrow stood,
And from the wound appeared the trickling blood.
She blushed for joy: But Meleagrus raised
His voice with loud applause, and the fair archer praised.
He was the first to see, and first to show
His friends the marks of the successful blow.
Nor shall thy valour want the praises due,
He said; – a virtuous envy seized the crew.
They shout; the shouting animates their hearts,
And all at once employ their thronging darts;
But out of order thrown, in air they join,
And multitude makes frustrate the design.
With both his hands the proud Ancæus takes,
And flourishes his double biting axe:
Then forward to his fate, he took a stride
Before the rest, and to his fellows cried, —
Give place, and mark the difference, if you can,
Between a woman-warrior and a man;
The boar is doomed; nor, though Diana lend
Her aid, Diana can her beast defend. —
Thus boasted he; then stretched, on tiptoe stood,
Secure to make his empty promise good;
But the more wary beast prevents the blow,
And upward rips the groin of his audacious foe.
Ancæus falls; his bowels from the wound
Rush out, and clotted blood distains the ground.
Pirithous, no small portion of the war,
Pressed on, and shook his lance; to whom from far,
Thus Theseus cried: O stay, my better part,
My more than mistress; of my heart, the heart!
The strong may fight aloof: Ancæus tried
His force too near, and by presuming died. —
He said, and, while he spake, his javelin threw;
Hissing in air, the unerring weapon flew;
But on an arm of oak, that stood betwixt
The marksman and the mark, his lance he fixt.
Once more bold Jason threw, but failed to wound }
The boar, and slew an undeserving hound; }
And through the dog the dart was nailed to ground.}
Two spears from Meleager's hand were sent,
With equal force, but various in the event;
The first was fixed in earth, the second stood
On the boar's bristled back, and deeply drank his blood.
Now, while the tortured savage turns around,
And flings about his foam, impatient of the wound,
The wound's great author, close at hand, provokes
His rage, and plies him with redoubled strokes;
Wheels as he wheels, and with his pointed dart
Explores the nearest passage to his heart.
Quick, and more quick, he spins in giddy gyres,
Then falls, and in much foam his soul expires.
This act with shouts heaven high the friendly band
Applaud, and strain in theirs the victor's hand.
Then all approach the slain with vast surprise,
Admire on what a breadth of earth he lies;
And, scarce secure, reach out their spears afar,
And blood their points, to prove their partnership of war.
But he, the conquering chief, his foot impressed
On the strong neck of that destructive beast;
And gazing on the nymph with ardent eyes,
Accept, said he, fair Nonacrine, my prize;
And, though inferior, suffer me to join
My labours, and my part of praise, with thine. —
At this presents her with the tusky head
And chine, with rising bristles roughly spread.
Glad, she received the gift; and seemed to take
With double pleasure, for the giver's sake.
The rest were seized with sullen discontent,
And a deaf murmur through the squadron went:
All envied; but the Thestyan brethren showed
The least respect, and thus they vent their spleen aloud:
Lay down those honoured spoils, nor think to share,
Weak woman as thou art, the prize of war;
Ours is the title, thine a foreign claim,
Since Meleagrus from our lineage came.
Trust not thy beauty; but restore the prize,
Which he, besotted on that face and eyes,
Would rend from us. – At this, inflamed with spite,
From her they snatch the gift, from him the giver's right.
But soon the impatient prince his faulchion drew,
And cried, – Ye robbers of another's due,
Now learn the difference, at your proper cost,
Betwixt true valour, and an empty boast. —
At this advanced, and, sudden as the word,
In proud Plexippus' bosom plunged the sword:
Toxeus amazed, and with amazement slow,
Or to revenge, or ward the coming blow,
Stood doubting; and, while doubting thus he stood,
Received the steel bathed in his brother's blood.
Pleased with the first, unknown the second news,
Althæa to the temples pays their dues
For her son's conquest; when at length appear }
Her grisly brethren stretched upon the bier: }
Pale, at the sudden sight, she changed her cheer,}
And with her cheer her robes; but hearing tell
The cause, the manner, and by whom they fell,
'Twas grief no more, or grief and rage were one
Within her soul; at last 'twas rage alone;
Which burning upwards, in succession dries
The tears that stood considering in her eyes.
There lay a log unlighted on the earth:
When she was labouring in the throes of birth
For the unborn chief, the Fatal Sisters came,
And raised it up, and tossed it on the flame;
Then on the rock a scanty measure place
Of vital flax, and turned the wheel apace;
And turning sung, – To this red brand and thee,
O new-born babe, we give an equal destiny;
So vanished out of view. The frighted dame
Sprung hasty from her bed, and quenched the flame;
The log, in secret locked, she kept with care,
And that, while thus preserved, preserved her heir.
This brand she now produced; and first she strows
The hearth with heaps of chips, and after blows;
Thrice heaved her hand, and heaved, she thrice repressed;}
The sister and the mother long contest, }
Two doubtful titles in one tender breast; }
And now her eyes and cheeks with fury glow,
Now pale her cheeks, her eyes with pity flow;
Now lowring looks presage approaching storms,
And now prevailing love her face reforms:
Resolved, she doubts again; the tears, she dried
With blushing rage, are by new tears supplied;
And, as a ship, which winds and waves assail, }
Now with the current drives, now with the gale,}
Both opposite, and neither long prevail, }
She feels a double force; by turns obeys
The imperious tempest, and the impetuous seas:
So fares Althæa's mind; first she relents
With pity, of that pity then repents:
Sister and mother long the scales divide,
But the beam nodded on the sister's side.
Sometimes she softly sighed, then roared aloud;
But sighs were stifled in the cries of blood.
The pious impious wretch at length decreed,
To please her brothers' ghosts, her son should bleed;
And when the funeral flames began to rise,
Receive, she said, a sister's sacrifice;
A mother's bowels burn: – high in her hand,
Thus while she spoke, she held the fatal brand;
Then thrice before the kindled pile she bowed,
And the three Furies thrice invoked aloud: —
Come, come, revenging sisters, come and view
A sister paying her dead brothers' due;
A crime I punish, and a crime commit;
But blood for blood, and death for death, is fit:
Great crimes must be with greater crimes repaid,
And second funerals on the former laid.
Let the whole household in one ruin fall,
And may Diana's curse o'ertake us all.
Shall fate to happy Œneus still allow }
One son, while Thestius stands deprived of two?}
Better three lost, than one unpunished go. }
Take then, dear ghosts, (while yet, admitted new
In hell, you wait my duty,) take your due;
A costly offering on your tomb is laid,
When with my blood the price of yours is paid.
Ah! whither am I hurried? Ah! forgive,
Ye shades, and let your sister's issue live:
A mother cannot give him death; though he
Deserves it, he deserves it not from me.
Then shall the unpunished wretch insult the slain,
Triumphant live? not only live, but reign?
While you, thin shades, the sport of winds, are tost
O'er dreary plains, or tread the burning coast!
I cannot, cannot bear; 'tis past, 'tis done;
Perish this impious, this detested son;
Perish his sire, and perish I withal;
And let the houses heir, and the hoped kingdom fall.
Where is the mother fled, her pious love,
And where the pains with which ten months I strove!
Ah! hadst thou died, my son, in infant years,
Thy little hearse hadst been bedewed with tears.
Thou livest by me; to me thy breath resign;
Mine is the merit, the demerit thine.
Thy life by double title I require;
Once given at birth, and once preserved from fire:
One murder pay, or add one murder more,
And me to them who fell by thee restore.
I would, but cannot: my son's image stands
Before my sight; – and now their angry hands
My brothers hold, and vengeance these exact;
This pleads compassion, and repents the fact.
He pleads in vain, and I pronounce his doom:
My brothers, though unjustly, shall o'ercome;
But having paid their injured ghosts their due,
My son requires my death, and mine shall his pursue.
At this, for the last time, she lifts her hand,
Averts her eyes, and half-unwilling drops the brand.
The brand, amid the flaming fuel thrown,
Or drew, or seemed to draw, a dying groan;
The fires themselves but faintly licked their prey,
Then loathed their impious food, and would have shrunk away.
Just then the hero cast a doleful cry,
And in those absent flames began to fry;
The blind contagion raged within his veins;
But he, with manly patience, bore his pains;
He feared not fate, but only grieved to die
Without an honest wound, and by a death so dry.
Happy Ancæus, thrice aloud he cried,
With what becoming fate in arms he died!
Then called his brothers, sisters, sire, around,
And her to whom his nuptial vows were bound;
Perhaps his mother; a long sigh he drew,
And, his voice failing, took his last adieu;
For, as the flames augment, and as they stay
At their full height, then languish to decay,
They rise, and sink by fits; at last they soar
In one bright blaze, and then descend no more:
Just so his inward heats, at height, impair,
Till the last burning breath shoots out the soul in air.
Now lofty Calydon in ruins lies; }
All ages, all degrees, unsluice their eyes; }
And heaven and earth resound with murmurs, groans, and cries.}
Matrons and maidens beat their breasts, and tear
Their habits, and root up their scattered hair.
The wretched father, father now no more,
With sorrow sunk, lies prostrate on the floor;
Deforms his hoary locks with dust obscene,
And curses age, and loathes a life prolonged with pain.
By steel her stubborn soul his mother freed,
And punished on herself her impious deed.
Had I an hundred tongues, a wit so large
As could their hundred offices discharge;
Had Phœbus all his Helicon bestowed,
In all the streams inspiring all the god;
Those tongues, that wit, those streams, that god in vain
Would offer to describe his sisters' pain;
They beat their breasts with many a bruising blow,
Till they turn livid, and corrupt the snow.
The corps they cherish, while the corps remains,
And exercise and rub with fruitless pains;
And when to funeral flames 'tis borne away,
They kiss the bed on which the body lay;
And when those funeral flames no longer burn,
The dust composed within a pious urn,
Even in that urn their brother they confess,
And hug it in their arms, and to their bosoms press.
His tomb is raised; then, stretched along the ground,
Those living monuments his tomb surround;
Even to his name, inscribed, their tears they pay,
Till tears and kisses wear his name away.
But Cynthia now had all her fury spent,
Not with less ruin, than a race, content;
Excepting Gorge, perished all the seed,
And her whom heaven for Hercules decreed.
Satiate at last, no longer she pursued
The weeping sisters; but with wings endued,
And horny beaks, and sent to flit in air,
Who yearly round the tomb in feathered flocks repair.
 

BAUCIS AND PHILEMON. OUT OF THE EIGHTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES

The author, pursuing the deeds of Theseus, relates how he, with his friend Pirithous, were invited by Achelous, the River-God, to stay with him, till his waters were abated. Achelous entertains them with a relation of his own love to Perimele, who was changed into an island by Neptune, at his request. Pirithous, being an Atheist, derides the legend, and denies the power of the Gods to work that miracle. Lelex, another companion of Theseus, to confirm the story of Achelous, relates another metamorphosis, of Baucis and Philemon into trees; of which he was partly an eyewitness.

 

 
Thus Achelous ends; his audience hear
With admiration, and, admiring, fear
The powers of heaven; except Ixion's son,
Who laughed at all the gods, believed in none;
He shook his impious head, and thus replies, —
These legends are no more than pious lies;
You attribute too much to heavenly sway,
To think they give us forms, and take away. —
The rest, of better minds, their sense declared
Against this doctrine, and with horror heard.
Then Lelex rose, an old experienced man,
And thus with sober gravity began; —
Heaven's power is infinite; earth, air, and sea,
The manufacture mass, the making power obey.
By proof to clear your doubt; – In Phrygian ground
Two neighbouring trees, with walls encompassed round,
Stand on a moderate rise, with wonder shown,
One a hard oak, a softer linden one;
I saw the place and them, by Pittheus sent
To Phrygian realms, my grandsire's government.
Not far from thence is seen a lake, the haunt
Of coots, and of the fishing cormorant.
Here Jove with Hermes came; but in disguise
Of mortal men concealed their deities;
One laid aside his thunder, one his rod,
And many toilsome steps together trod;
For harbour at a thousand doors they knocked,
Not one of all the thousand but was locked;
At last an hospitable house they found, }
A homely shed; the roof, not far from ground, }
Was thatched with reeds and straw together bound.}
There Baucis and Philemon lived, and there
Had lived long married, and a happy pair;
Now old in love; though little was their store,}
Inured to want, their poverty they bore, }
Nor aimed at wealth, professing to be poor. }
For master or for servant here to call,
Was all alike, where only two were all.
Command was none, where equal love was paid,
Or rather both commanded, both obeyed.
From lofty roofs the gods repulsed before,
Now stooping, entered through the little door;
The man their hearty welcome first expressed,}
A common settle²⁵ drew for either guest, }
Inviting each his weary limbs to rest. }
But, ere they sat, officious Baucis lays
Two cushions stuffed with straw, the seat to raise;
Coarse, but the best she had; then takes the load
Of ashes from the hearth, and spreads abroad
The living coals, and, lest they should expire,
With leaves and barks she feeds her infant-fire;
It smokes, and then with trembling breath she blows,
Till in a cheerful blaze the flames arose.
With brushwood and with chips she strengthens these,
And adds at last the boughs of rotten trees.
The fire thus formed, she sets the kettle on,
Like burnished gold the little seether shone;
Next took the coleworts which her husband got
From his own ground, a small well-watered spot;
She stripped the stalks of all their leaves; the best
She culled, and then with handy care she dressed.
High o'er the hearth a chine of bacon hung;
Good old Philemon seized it with a prong,
And from the sooty rafter drew it down,
Then cut a slice, but scarce enough for one;
Yet a large portion of a little store,
Which, for their sake alone, he wished were more.
This in the pot he plunged without delay,
To tame the flesh, and drain the salt away.
The time between, before the fire they sat,
And shortened the delay by pleasing chat.
A beam there was, on which a beechen pail
Hung by the handle, on a driven nail;
This filled with water, gently warmed, they set }
Before their guests; in this they bathed their feet,}
And after with clean towels dried their sweat: }
This done, the host produced the genial bed,}
Sallow the foot, the borders, and the sted, }
Which with no costly coverlet they spread, }
But coarse old garments; yet such robes as these
They laid alone, at feasts, on holidays.
The good old housewife, tucking up her gown,
The table sets; the invited gods lie down.
The trivet-table of a foot was lame,
A blot which prudent Baucis overcame,
Who thrust beneath the limping leg a sherd,
So was the mended board exactly reared;
Then rubbed it o'er with newly gathered mint,
A wholesome herb, that breathed a grateful scent.
Pallas²⁶ began the feast, where first was seen
The party-coloured olive, black and green;
Autumnal cornels next in order served,
In lees of wine well pickled and preserved;
A garden-sallad was the third supply,
Of endive, radishes, and succory;
Then curds and cream, the flower of country fare,}
And new-laid eggs, which Baucis' busy care }
Turned by a gentle fire, and roasted rare. }
All these in earthen-ware were served to board; }
And, next in place, an earthen pitcher, stored }
With liquor of the best the cottage could afford.}
This was the table's ornament and pride,
With figures wrought; like pages at his side
Stood beechen bowls; and these were shining clean,
Varnished with wax without, and lined within.
By this the boiling kettle had prepared,
And to the table sent the smoking lard;
On which, with eager appetite, they dine,
A savoury bit, that served to relish wine;
The wine itself was suiting to the rest,
Still working in the must, and lately pressed.
The second course succeeds like that before,
Plumbs, apples, nuts, and, of their wintry-store,
Dry figs and grapes, and wrinkled dates were set
In canisters, to enlarge the little treat;
All these a milk-white honey-comb surround,
Which in the midst the country-banquet crowned.
But the kind hosts their entertainment grace
With hearty welcome, and an open face;
In all they did, you might discern with ease
A willing mind, and a desire to please.
Mean time the beechen bowls went round, and still,
Though often emptied, were observed to fill;
Filled without hands, and of their own accord
Ran without feet, and danced about the board.
Devotion seized the pair, to see the feast
With wine, and of no common grape, increased;
And up they held their hands, and fell to prayer,
Excusing, as they could, their country fare.
One goose they had, 'twas all they could allow,}
A wakeful sentry, and on duty now, }
Whom to the gods for sacrifice they vow: }
Her, with malicious zeal, the couple viewed;
She ran for life, and, limping, they pursued;
Full well the fowl perceived their bad intent,
And would not make her master's compliment;
But, persecuted, to the powers she flies,
And close between the legs of Jove she lies.
He, with a gracious ear, the suppliant heard,
And saved her life; then what he was declared,
And owned the god. The neighbourhood, said he,
Shall justly perish for impiety;
You stand alone exempted; but obey
With speed, and follow where we lead the way;
Leave these accursed, and to the mountain's height
Ascend, nor once look backward in your flight. —
They haste, and what their tardy feet denied,
The trusty staff (their better leg) supplied.
An arrow's flight they wanted to the top,
And there secure, but spent with travel, stop;
Then turn their now no more forbidden eyes: —
Lost in a lake, the floated level lies;
A watery desert covers all the plains,
Their cot alone, as in an isle, remains:
Wondering, with peeping eyes, while they deplore
Their neighbours' fate, and country now no more,
Their little shed, scarce large enough for two,
Seems, from the ground increased, in height and bulk to grow.
A stately temple shoots within the skies;
The crotchets of their cot in columns rise;
The pavement polished marble they behold,
The gates with sculpture graced, the spires and tiles of gold.
Then thus the sire of gods, with looks serene,
Speak thy desire, thou only just of men;
And thou, O woman, only worthy found
To be with such a man in marriage bound. —
Awhile they whisper; then, to Jove addressed,
Philemon thus prefers their joint request: —
We crave to serve before your sacred shrine,
And offer at your altars rites divine,
And since not any action of our life
Has been polluted with domestic strife,
We beg one hour of death; that neither she,
With widow's tears, may live to bury me,
Nor weeping I, with withered arms, may bear
My breathless Baucis to the sepulchre.
The godheads sign their suit. They run their race
In the same tenour all the appointed space;
Then, when their hour was come, while they relate
These past adventures at the temple-gate,
Old Baucis is by old Philemon seen
Sprouting with sudden leaves of sprightly green;
Old Baucis looked where old Philemon stood,
And saw his lengthened arms a sprouting wood;
New roots their fastened feet begin to bind,
Their bodies stiffen in a rising rind;
Then, ere the bark above their shoulders grew,
They give and take at once their last adieu;
At once, farewell, O faithful spouse, they said;
At once the encroaching rinds their closing lips invade.
Even yet, an ancient Tyanæan shows
A spreading oak, that near a linden grows;
The neighbourhood confirm the prodigy,
Grave men, not vain of tongue, or like to lie.
I saw myself the garlands on their boughs,
And tablets hung for gifts of granted vows;
And offering fresher up, with pious prayer, }
The good, said I, are God's peculiar care, }
And such as honour heaven, shall heavenly honour share.}