Their rocks are all discover'd, and increase
The number of the scatter'd Cyclades:
The fith in fholes about the bottom creep,
Nor longer dares the crooked dolphin leap:
Gafping for breath th' unshapen Phocæ die,
And on the boiling wave extended lie:
Nereus and Doris, with her virgin train,
Seek out the laft receffes of the main ;
Beneath unfathomable depths they faint,
And fecret in their gloomy caverns pant :
Stern Neptune thrice above the waves upheld
His face, and thrice was by the flames repell'd.

306

310

315

The Earth at length, on every fide embrac'd With fcalding feas, that floted round her waist, When now fhe felt the fprings and rivers come, 320 And crowd within the hollow of her womb, Uplifted to the heav'ns her blasted head,

And clapt her hand upon her brows, and faid; (But first, impatient of the fultry heat,

Sunk deeper down, and fought a cooler feat)

325

"If you, great King of gods! my death approve, "And I deferve it, let me die by Jove; "If I must perish by the force of fire, "Let me transfix'd with thunderbolts expire. 329 "See, whilft I fpeak, my breath the vapours choke, "(For now her face lay wrapt in clouds of smoke) "See my fing'd hair, behold my faded eye

"And wither'd face, where heaps of cinders lie!

"And does the plough for this my body tear?
"This the reward for all the fruits I bear, 335
"Tortur'd with rakes; and harass'd all the year?
That herbs for cattle daily I renew,

"And food for man, and frankincense for you?
"But grant me guilty; what has Neptune done?
"Why are his waters boiling in the fun?

340

"The wavy empire, which by lot was given, "Why does it waste, and further shrink from heav'n? "If I nor he your pity can provoke,

8

"See your own heav'ns, the heav'ns begin to fmoke! "Should once the sparkles catch those bright abodes, "Destruction feizes on the heav'ns and gods; 346 "Atlas becomes unequal to his freight, "And almost faints beneath the glowing weight.. "If heav'n, and earth, and fea, together burn, "All muft again into their chaos turn.

Apply fome speedy cure, prevent our fate, "And fuccour Nature ere it be too late."

350

She ceas'd; for chok'd with vapours round her spread,
Down to the deepest fhades the funk her head.
Jove call'd to witnefs every pow'r above,
And ev'n the god whofe fon the chariot drove,
That what he acts he is compen'd to do,

Or univerfal ruin must enfue.

Straight he afcends the high ethereal throne,

355

From whence he us'd to dart his thunder down, 360

From whence his fhow'rs and forms he us'd to pour,
But now could meet with neither storm nor show'r,
Then aiming at the youth with lifted hand,
Full at his head he hurl'd the forky brand, 364
In dreadful thund'rings. Thus th' Almighty fire
Supprefs'd the raging of the fires with fire.

At once from life and from the chariot driven, The ambitious boy fell thunderstruck from heav'n : The horfes ftarted with a fudden bound,

And flung the reins and chariot to the ground: 370
'The ftudded harnefs from their necks they broke;
Here fell a wheel, and here a filver spoke;
Here were the beam and axle torn away,

And scatter'd o'er the earth the shining fragments lay:
The breathless Phaton, with flaming hair

Shot from the chariot like a falling star,

That in a fummer's evening from the top
Of heav'n drops down, or feems at least to drop,
Till on the Po his blafted corpfe was hurl'd,
Far from his country, in the western world.

Phaeton's fifters transformed into trees.

375

380

THE Latian nymphs came round him, and amaz'd,
On the dead youth, transfix'd with thunder, gaz'd,
And, whilft yet smoking from the bolt he lay,
His hatter'd body to a tomb convey,

And o'er the tomb an epitaph devise;

385

"Here he who drove the fun's bright chariot lies;

**His father's fiery fteeds he could not guide, "But in the glorious enterprise he dy’d.”

Apollo hid his face, and pin'd for grief;
And if the story may deserve belief,

The space of one whole day is faid to run,
From morn to wonted ev'n without a fun;
The burning ruins, with a fainter ray,
Supply the fun, and counterfeit a day,
A day that still did Nature's face disclose;
This comfort from the mighty mischief rose.

But Clymenè, enrag'd with grief, laments,
And as her grief infpires her passion vents:
Wild for her fon, and frantic in her woes,

390

395

With hair difhevell'd, round the world fhe goes, 400
To feek where'er his body might be caft,
Till, on the borders of the Po, at last

The name infcrib'd on the new tomb appears;
The dear dear name she bathes in flowing tears,
Hangs o'er the tomb, unable to depart,

And hugs the marble to her throbbing heart.

4C5

Her daughters, too, lament, and figh, and mourn, (A fruitless tribute to their brother's urn)

And beat their naked bofoms, and complain,

And call aloud for Phaeton in vain;

410

All the long night their mournful watch they keep,
And all the day ftand round the tomb and weep.
Four times, revolving, the full moon return'd,
So long the mother and the daughters moura'd;

When now the eldeft, Phacthufa, frove

To reft her weary limbs, but could not move;

Lampetia would have help'd her, but the found
Herfelf withheld, and rooted to the ground:
A third in wild affliction, as the grieves,

415

425

Would rend her hair, but fills her hand with leaves:
One fees her thighs transform'd, another views 421
Her arms shot out, and branching into boughs.
And now their legs, and breafts, and bodies, stood
Crufted with bark, and hard'ning into wood;
But still above were female heads difplay'd,
And mouths, that call'd the mother to their aid.
What could, alas! the weeping mother do?
From this to that with eager hafte she flew,
And kiss'd her fprouting daughters as they grew:
She tears the bark that to each body cleaves,
And from their verdant fingers strips the leaves:
'The blood came trickling where the tore away
The leaves and bark: the maids where heard to fay,
Forbear, mistaken Parent, oh! forbear;

430

"A wounded daughter in each tree you tear : 435 "Farewell for ever." Here the bark increas'd, Clos'd on their faces and their words fupprefs'd. The new-made trees in tears of amber run, Which, hard'ned into value by the fun, Diftil for ever on the streams below;

The limpid ftreams their radiant treasure show, Mixt in the fand, whence the rich drops convey'd Shine in the drefs of the bright Latian maid.

440