BOOK IV.

THE STORY OF SALMACIS AND HERMAPHRODITUS.

How Salmacis, with weak enfeebling streams
Softens the body, and unnerves the limbs,
And what the secret cause, shall here be shown;
The cause is secret, but the effect is known.
The Naïads nursed an infant heretofore,
That Cytherea once to Hermes bore:

From both the illustrious authors of his race
The child was named; nor was it hard to trace
Both the bright parents through the infant's face.
When fifteen years, in Ida's cool retreat,
The boy had told, he left his native seat,
And sought fresh fountains in a foreign soil;
The pleasure lessened the attending toil.
With eager steps the Lycian fields he crossed,
And fields that border on the Lycian coast;
A river here he viewed so lovely bright,
It showed the bottom in a fairer light,
Nor kept a sand concealed from human sight.
The stream produced nor slimy ooze, nor weeds,
Nor miry rushes, nor the spiky reeds;
But dealt enriching moisture all around,

The fruitful banks with cheerful verdure crowned,
And kept the spring eternal on the ground.
A nymph presides, nor practised in the chase,
Nor skilful at the bow, nor at the race;
Of all the blue-eyed daughters of the main,
The only stranger to Diana's train:
Her sisters often, as 'tis said, would cry,
'Fie, Salmacis, what always idle! fie,

Or take thy quiver, or thy arrows seize,
And mix the toils of hunting with thy ease.'
Nor quiver she nor arrows e'er would seize,
Nor mix the toils of hunting with her ease.
But oft would bathe her in the crystal tide,
Oft with a comb her dewy locks divide;
Now in the limpid streams she viewed her face,
And dressed her image in the floating glass:
On beds of leaves she now reposed her limbs,
Now gathered flowers that grew about her streams:
And then by chance was gathering, as she stood
To view the boy, and longed for what she viewed.
Fain would she meet the youth with hasty feet,
She fain would meet him, but refused to meet
Before her looks were set with nicest care,
And well deserved to be reputed fair.

'Bright youth,' she cries, 'whom all thy features.

prove

A god, and, if a god, the god of love;

But if a mortal, bless'd thy nurse's breast,

Bless'd are thy parents, and thy sisters bless'd:

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But, oh! how bless'd! how more than bless'd thy bride, Allied in bliss, if any yet allied.

If so, let mine the stolen enjoyments be;

If not, behold a willing bride in me.'

The boy knew nought of love, and, touched with

shame,

He strove, and blushed, but still the blush became:

In rising blushes still fresh beauties rose;

The sunny side of fruit such blushes shows,
And such the moon, when all her silver white
Turns in eclipses to a ruddy light.

The nymph still begs, if not a nobler bliss,
A cold salute at least, a sister's kiss:

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And now prepares to take the lovely boy
Between her arms. He, innocently coy,
Replies, Or leave me to myself alone,
You rude, uncivil nymph, or I'll begone.'
'Fair stranger then,' says she, it shall be so;'
And, for she feared his threats, she feigned to go;
But hid within a covert's neighbouring green,
She kept him still in sight, herself unseen.
The boy now fancies all the danger o'er,
And innocently sports about the shore,
Playful and wanton to the stream he trips,
And dips his foot, and shivers as he dips.
The coolness pleased him, and with eager haste
His airy garments on the banks he cast;
His godlike features, and his heavenly hue,
And all his beauties were exposed to view.
His naked limbs the nymph with rapture spies,
While hotter passions in her bosom rise,
Flush in her cheeks, and sparkle in her eyes.
She longs, she burns to clasp him in her arms,
And looks, and sighs, and kindles at his charms.

Now all undressed upon the banks he stood,
And clapped his sides and leaped into the flood:
His lovely limbs the silver waves divide,
His limbs appear more lovely through the tide;
As lilies shut within a crystal case,

Receive a glossy lustre from the glass.
'He's mine, he's all my own,' the Naïad

cries,

And flings off all, and after him she flies.

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And now she fastens on him as he swims,

And holds him close, and wraps about his limbs.
The more the boy resisted, and was coy,

The more she clipped and kissed the struggling boy.

So when the wriggling snake is snatched on high 95 In eagle's claws, and hisses in the sky,

Around the foe his twirling tail he flings,

And twists her legs, and writhes about her wings.
The restless boy still obstinately strove

To free himself, and still refused her love.
Amidst his limbs she kept her limbs entwined,
'And why, coy youth,' she cries, 'why thus unkind!
Oh may the gods thus keep us ever joined!
Oh may we never, never part again!'

So prayed the nymph, nor did she pray in vain:
For now she finds him, as his limbs she pressed,
Grow nearer still, and nearer to her breast;
Till, piercing each the other's flesh, they run
Together, and incorporate in one:

Last in one face are both their faces joined,
As when the stock and grafted twig combined
Shoot up the same, and wear a common rind:
Both bodies in a single body mix,

A single body with a double sex.

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The boy, thus lost in woman, now surveyed The river's guilty stream, and thus he prayed: (He prayed, but wondered at his softer tone, Surprised to hear a voice but half his own:) You parent gods, whose heavenly names I bear, Hear your Hermaphrodite, and grant my prayer; 120 Oh grant, that whomsoe'er these streams contain, If man he entered, he may rise again

Supple, unsinewed, and but half a man!

The heavenly parents answered, from on high,
Their two-shaped son, the double votary;
Then gave a secret virtue to the flood,

And tinged its source to make his wishes good.

TO HER

ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS OF WALES,1

WITH THE TRAGEDY OF CATO, NOV. 1714.

THE Muse that oft, with sacred raptures fired,
Has generous thoughts of liberty inspired,
And, boldly rising for Britannia's laws,
Engaged great Cato in her country's cause,
On you submissive waits, with hopes assured,
By whom the mighty blessing stands secured,
And all the glories that our age adorn,
Are promised to a people yet unborn.

No longer shall the widowed land bemoan
A broken lineage, and a doubtful throne;
But boast her royal progeny's increase,
And count the pledges of her future peace.
O, born to strengthen and to grace our isle!
While you, fair Princess, in your offspring smile,
Supplying charms to the succeeding age,
Each heavenly daughter's triumphs we presage;
Already see the illustrious youths complain,
And pity monarchs doomed to sigh in vain.

Thou too, the darling of our fond desires,
Whom Albion, opening wide her arms, requires,
With manly valour and attractive air
Shalt quell the fierce and captivate the fair.
O England's younger hope! in whom conspire
The mother's sweetness and the father's fire!
For thee perhaps, even now, of kingly race,
Some dawning beauty blooms in every grace,

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1 'Princess of Wales' Wilhelmina Dorothea Carolina of BrandenburgAnspach-afterwards Caroline, Queen of George II.; she figures in the 'Heart of Mid-Lothian.'