"He made his courtship, he confefs'd his pain,
"And offer'd force when all his arts were vain :
"Swift he purfu'd; I ran along the strand,
"Till, spent and weary'd on the finking fand,
"I fhriek'd aloud; with cries I fill'd the air
"To gods and men; nor god nor man was there :
“A virgin goddess heard a virgin's prayer;
"For as my arms I lifted to the skies,

725

730

" I saw black feathers from my fingers rise;

735

"I ftrove to fling my garment on the ground; "My garment turn'd to plumes, and girt me round: "My hands to beat my naked bosom try; "Nor naked bofom now nor hands had I. "Lightly I tript, nor weary, as before, "Sunk in the fand, but skimm'd along the shore, "Till, rifing on my wings, I was preferr'd' "To be the chafte Minerva's virgin bird: "Preferr'd in vain! I now am in difgrace'; "Nyctimenè the owl enjoys my place.

"On her incestuous life I need not dwell, 66 (In Lefbos ftill the horrid tale they tell) "And of her dire amours you must have heard, "For which the now does penance in a bird,

740

745

That, confcious of her fhame, avoids the light, "And loves the gloomy cov'ring of the night; "The birds, where'er fhe flutters, scare away The hooting wretch, and drive her from the day."

The raven, urg'd by fuch impertinence, Grew paffionate, it seems, and took offence,

750

And curs'd the harmless daw; the daw withdrew; The raven to her injur'd patron flew,

And found him out, and told the fatal truth of falfe Coronis and the favour'd youth.

759

760

The god was wroth; the colour left his look, The wreath his head, the harp his hand forfook; His filver bow and feather'd shafts he took, And lodg'd an arrow in the tender breast That had fo often to his own been prest. Down fell the wounded nymph, and sadly groan'd, And pull'd his arrow reeking from the wound, And, welt'ring in her blood, thus faintly cry'd, Ah, eruel God! tho' I have justly dy'd, "What has, alas! my unborn infant done, "That he should fall, and two expire in one?" This faid, in agonies fhe fetch'd her breath.

The god diffolves in pity at her death;

769

He hates the bird that made her falfehood known,
And hates himself for what himself had done; 770
The feather'd shaft that fent her to the Fates,
And his own hand that fent the shaft, he hates:
Fain would he heal the wound, and ease her pain,
And tries the compass of his art in vain,

Soon as he saw the lovely nymph expire,

The pile made ready, and the kindling fire,
With fighs and groans her obsequies he kept,
And, if a god could weep, the god had wept.

773

Her corpse he kiss'd, and heav'nly incenfe brought,
And folemniz'd the death himself had wrought. 780

But, left his offspring should her fate partake,
Spite of th' immortal mixture in his make,
He ript her womb, and set the child at large,
And gave him to the Centaur Chiron's charge,
Then in his fury black'd the raven o'er,

785 And bid him prate in his white plumes no more.

Ocyrrhöe transformed to a Mare.

OLD Chiron took the babe with secret joy,
Proud of the charge of the celeftial boy;

His daughter, too, whom on the fandy shore

799

795

The nymph Chariclo to the Centaur bore, With hair dishevell'd on her fhoulders, came To fee the child, Ocyrrhöe was her name; She knew her father's arts, and could rehearse The depths of prophesy in sounding verfe. Once, as the facred infant she survey'd, The god was kindled in the raving maid, And thus fhe utter'd her prophetic tale; "Hail, great Phyfician of the world! all hail! "Hail, mighty Infant! who in years to come "Shalt heal the nations, and defraud the tomb; 8co "Swift be thy growth! thy triumphs unconfin'd! “Make kingdoms thicker, and increase mankind ; · "Thy daring art shall animate the dead, "And draw the thunder on thy guilty head:

"Then fhalt thou die, but from the dark abode 805 "Rife up victorious, and be twice a god.

"And thou, my fire, not deftin'd by thy birth "To turn to dust, and mix with common earth, "How wilt thou toss and rave, and long to die, "And quit thy claim to immortality, 810 "When thou shalt feel, enrag'd with inward pains, "The Hydra's venom rankling in thy veins? "The gods, in pity, shall contract thy date, "And give thee over to the pow'r of Fate." Thus, ent'ring into destiny, the maid The fecrets of offended Jove betray'd: More had the still to fay, but now appears

815

825

Oppress'd with sobs and fighs, and drown'd in tears. "My voice," fays fhe, " is gone, my language fails; "Thro' every limb my kindred shape prevails: 820 "Why did the god this fatal gift impart, "And with prophetic raptures fwell my heart? "What new defires are these? I long to pace "O'er flow'ry meadows, and to feed on grass; "I haften to a brute, a maid no more; "But why, alas! am I transform'd all o'er? "My fire does half a human shape retain, "And in his upper parts preferves the man." Her tongue no more diftinct complaints affords, But in fhrill accents and misshapen words Pours forth fuch hideous wailings as declare The human form confounded in the Mare,

830

Till by degrees accomplish'd in the beast,

She neigh'd outright, and all the steed expreft.

Her stooping body on her hands is borne,

835

Her hands are turn'd to hoofs, and shod in horn;
Her yellow treffes ruffle in a mane,

And in a flowing tail she frisks her train :

The Mare was finish'd in her voice and look,
And a new name from the new figure took.

The transformation of Battus to a Touchstone.
SORE wept the Centaur, and to Phœbus pray'd;
But how could Phoebus give the Centaur aid?
Degraded of his pow'r by angry Jove,

In Elis then a herd of beeves he drove,
And wielded in his hand a staff of oak,

840

845

And o'er his shoulders threw the shepherd's cloke;
On seven compacted reeds he us'd to play,
And on his rural pipe to waste the day.

As once, attentive to his pipe, he play'd,
The crafty Hermes from the god convey'd 850
A drove, that fep'rate from their fellows stray'd:
The theft an old infidious peasant view'd,
(They call'd him Battus in the neighbourhood)
Hir'd by a wealthy Pylian prince to feed

856

His favourite mares, and watch the gen'rous breed.
The thievish god suspected him, and took
The hind afide, and thus in whispers spoke;
$6 Discover not the theft, whoe'er thou be,

"And take that milk-white heifer for thy fee."