66 See, whilft I speak, my breath the vapours choke, (For now her face lay wrapt in clouds of fmoke) "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, "Tortur'd with rakes, and harafs'd all the year? "That herbs for cattle daily I renew, "And food for man, and frankincenfe for you? "But grant me guilty; what has Neptune done? Why are his waters boiling in the fun? "The wavy empire, which by lot was given, Why does it wafte, and further fhrink from heaven? "If I nor he your pity can provoke, "See your own heavens, the heavens begin to fmoke! "Should once the sparkles catch those bright abodes, "Deftruction feizes on the heavens and gods; "Atlas becomes unequal to his freight, "And almost faints beneath the glowing weight. "If heaven, and earth, and fea, together burn, "All must again into their chaos turn. Apply fome speedy cure, prevent our fate, “And fuccour nature, ere it be too late.” She ceas'd; for, chok'd with vapours round her spread, Straight he afcends the high ethereal throne, From whence he us'd to dart his thunder down; From whence his showers and ftorms he us❜d to pour, At once from life and from the chariot driven, And flung the reins and chariot to the ground: Of heaven drops down, or feems at least to drop; PHAETON's SISTERS TRANSFORMED INTO TREES. THE Latian nymphs came round him, and amaz'd On the dead youth, transfix'd with thunder, gaz'd; And, whilst yet smoking from the bolt he lay, His fhatter'd body to a tomb convey, And o'er the tomb an epitaph devise : "Here he who drove the fun's bright chariot lies; "His father's fiery fteeds he could not guide, "But in the glorious enterprize he dy’d.” Apollo hid his face, and pin'd for griéf, But Clymenè, enrag'd with grief, laments, 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 : All the long night their mournful watch they keep, And all the day stand round the tomb and weep. Four times, revolving, the full moon return'd; So long the mother and the daughters mourn'd; When now the eldeft, Phaethusa, strove To reft her weary limbs, but could not move; Lampetia would have help'd her, but fhe found Herfelf withheld, and rooted to the ground: A third in wild affliction, as the grieves, Would rend her hair, but fills her hand with leaves; 66 "A wounded daughter in each tree you tear ; } The limpid ftreams their radiant treasure show, Mix'd in the fand; whence the rich drops convey'd Shine in the drefs of the bright Latian maid. THE TRANSFORMATION OF CYCNUS INTO A SWAN. CYCNUS beheld the nymphs transform'd, ally'd To their dead brother, on the mortal fide, In friendship and affection nearer bound; Through pathlefs fields and lonely shores to range, From both his fides the wings and feathers break; Who, ftill remembering how his kinfman burn'd, And loves the waters as oppos'd to fires. Mean-while Apollo in a gloomy fhade Now fecretly with inward griefs he pin'd, } "E'er fince the birth of time," said he, "I've borne "A long ungrateful toil without return; "Let now fome other manage, if he dare, "The fiery steeds, and mount the burning car, |