The bark divides, the living load to free,
And safe delivers the convulsive tree.
The ready nymphs receive the crying child,
And wash him in the tears the parent plant
distilled.

They swathed him with their scarfs; beneath him spread

The ground with herbs; with roses raised his

head.

The lovely babe was born with every grace;
Even envy must have praised so fair a face:
Such was his form, as painters, when they show
Their utmost art, on naked loves bestow;
And that their arms no difference might betray,
Give him a bow, or his from Cupid take away.
Time glides along, with undiscovered haste,
The future but a length behind the past,
So swift are years; the babe, whom just before
His grandsire got, and whom his sister bore;
The drop, the thing which late the tree inclosed,
And late the yawning bark to life exposed;
A babe, a boy, a beauteous youth appears;
And lovelier than himself at riper years.
Now to the queen of love he gave desires,
And, with her pains, revenged his mother's fires.

* Adonis.

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AND ALCYONE.

CEYX AND

out of the tenth [ELEVENTH] BOOK of

OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

CONNECTION OF THIS FABLE WITH THE FORMER.

Ceyx, the son of Lucifer (the Morning Star), and King of Trachin, in Thessaly, was married to Alcyone, daughter to Eolus, god of the winds. Both the husband and the wife loved each other with an entire affection. Dædalion, the elder brother of Ceyx, whom he succeeded, having been turned into a falcon by Apollo, and Chione, Dadalion's daughter, slain by Diana, Ceyx prepares a ship to sail to Claros, there to consult the oracle of Apollo, and (as Ovid seems to intimate) to inquire how the anger of the Gods might be atoned.

THESE prodigies afflict the pious prince;
But, more perplexed with those that happened
since,

He purposes to seek the Clarian God,
Avoiding Delphos, his more famed abode;
Since Phlegian robbers made unsafe the road.
Yet could not he from her he loved so well,
The fatal voyage, he resolved, conceal;
But when she saw her lord prepared to part,
A deadly cold ran shivering to her heart;

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Her faded cheeks are changed to boxen hue,
And in her eyes the tears are ever new;
She thrice essayed to speak; her accents hung,
And, faltering, died unfinished on her tongue,
Or vanished into sighs; with long delay

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Her voice returned; and found the wonted way. 15 "Tell me, my lord," she said, "what fault unknown

Thy once beloved Alcyone has done?
Whither, ah whither is thy kindness gone!
Can Ceyx then sustain to leave his wife,
And unconcerned forsake the sweets of life?
What can thy mind to this long journey move,
Or need'st thou absence to renew thy love?
Yet, if thou goest by land, though grief possess
My soul even then, my fears will be the less.
But ah! be warned to shun the watery way,
The face is frightful of the stormy sea.
For late I saw adrift disjointed planks,
And empty tombs erected on the banks.
Nor let false hopes to trust betray thy mind,
Because my sire in caves constrains the wind,
Can with a breath their clamorous rage appease,
They fear his whistle, and forsake the seas:
Not so; for, once indulged, they sweep the main,
Deaf to the call, or, hearing, hear in vain ;
But bent on mischief, bear the waves before,
And, not content with seas, insult the shore;
When ocean, air, and earth, at once engage,
And rooted forests fly before their rage;
At once the clashing clouds to battle move,
And lightnings run across the fields above:
I know them well, and marked their rude com-
port,
While yet a child, within my father's court;
In times of tempest they command alone,
And he but sits precarious on the throne;

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The more I know, the more my fears aug

ment,

And fears are oft prophetic of the event.
But if not fears, or reasons will prevail,
If fate has fixed thee obstinate to sail,
Go not without thy wife, but let me bear
My part of danger with an equal share,
And present what I suffer* only fear;
Then o'er the bounding billows shall we fly,
Secure to live together, or to die."

These reasons moved her starlike† husband's heart,

But still he held his purpose to depart;
For as he loved her equal to his life,

He would not to the seas expose his wife;
Nor could be wrought his voyage to refrain,
But sought by arguments to soothe her pain:
Nor these availed; at length he lights on one,
With which so difficult a cause he won :-

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My love, so short an absence cease to fear, For, by my father's holy flame I swear, Before two moons their orb with light adorn, If heaven allow me life, I will return."

This promise of so short a stay prevails; He soon equips the ship, supplies the sails, And gives the word to launch; she trembling

views

This pomp of death, and parting tears renews;
Last, with a kiss, she took a long farewell,
Sighed, with a sad presage, and swooning fell.
While Ceyx seeks delays, the lusty crew,
Raised on their banks, their oars in order drew
To their broad breasts,-the ship with fury flew.

* [This appears in Scott as but incorrect alteration.-ED.]

"suffer what I "- —a plausible

† [So in Ovid, “sidereus ;" Ceyx was the son of Lucifer.-ED.]

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The queen, recovered, rears her humid eyes, And first her husband on the poop espies, Shaking his hand at distance on the main; She took the sign, and shook her hand again. Still as the ground recedes, retracts* her view With sharpened sight, till she no longer knew The much-loved face; that comfort lost, supplies With less, and with the galley feeds her eyes; The galley borne from view by rising gales, She followed with her sight the flying sails; When even the flying sails were seen no more, Forsaken of all sight, she left the shore. Then on her bridal bed her body throws, And sought in sleep her wearied eyes to close; Her husband's pillow, and the widowed part Which once he pressed, renewed the former smart. 90 And now a breeze from shore began to blow; The sailors ship their oars, and cease to row; Then hoist their yards atrip,† and all their sails Let fall, to court the wind, and catch the gales. By this the vessel half her course had run, And as much rested till the rising sun ; Both shores were lost to sight, when at the close Of day, a stiffer gale at east arose; The sea grew white, the rolling waves from far, Like heralds, first denounce the watery war.

This seen, the master soon began to cry,
"Strike, strike the top-sail; let the main sheet fly,
And furl your sails. The winds repel the sound,
And in the speaker's mouth the speech is drowned.
Yet of their own accord, as danger taught,
Each in his way, officiously they wrought;
Some stow their oars, or stop the leaky sides;
Another, bolder yet, the yard bestrides,

* [="repeats," a Latinism.-ED.]
To the top of the mast.-ED.]

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