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<DATE>2013-11-12</DATE>
<RESPSTMT>
<NAME>Anne Simpson</NAME>
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<TEXT LANG="eng">
<FRONT>
<DIV1 TYPE="title page">
<PB REF="1">
<PB REF="1" MS="y">
<P>THE PASSION OF BYBLIS, Made <HI>Engli&s;h.</HI></P>
<P>From <HI>Ovid. Me am. Lib.</HI> 9.</P>
<P>By Mr. <HI>Dennis.</HI></P>
<P><HI>LONDON,</HI> Printed for <HI>Rich. Parker</HI> at the <HI>&V;nicorn</HI> under the Piazza of the <HI>Royal Exchange,</HI> 1692.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="preface">
<PB REF="2" MS="y">
<PB REF="2">
<HEAD>THE PREFACE.</HEAD>
<P>THE Pa&s;&s;ion of <HI>Byblis</HI> &s;eems to be, in the Ori|ginal, not only one of <HI>Ovid</HI>'s mo&s;t ma&s;terly pieces, but a Pa&s;&s;ion in &s;ome places the mo&s;t happily touch'd of any that I have &s;een among&s;t the An|cients or Moderns. The Sentiments are &s;o tender and yet &s;o delicate, the expre&s;&s;ions &s;o fit and withal &s;o ea&s;ie, with that facility which is proper to expre&s;s Love, and peculiar to this Charming Poet; the turns of Pa&s;&s;ion are &s;o &s;urprizing and yet &s;o natural, and there &s;eems to be &s;omething in the very &s;ound of the Ver&s;e &s;o &s;oft and &s;o pa|thetick, that a man who reads the Original, mu&s;t have no &s;en&s;e of the&s;e matters if he is not tran&s;ported with it.</P>
<P>When I was de&s;ir'd to make it <HI>Engli&s;h,</HI> I read over the Original to &s;ome men of &s;en&s;e, to &s;ee whether they would be touch'd with the &s;ame pa&s;&s;ages with which I had been mov'd &s;o much. And when I &s;aw that I was not mi&s;taken, I re&s;olv'd to imitate them in our native tongue, with as much addre&s;s as I could.</P>
<P>Not that I am of the opinion that I have done ju|&s;tice to the admirable Original; but then you mu&s;t give me leave to do &s;ome to my &s;elf; and as I would not have
<PB REF="3">my faults imputed to <HI>Ovid,</HI> &s;o, &s;ince I have &s;o many of my own to account for, I do not de&s;ire to &s;tand charg'd with his, which as his Tran&s;lator I was oblig'd to copy.</P>
<P>I will chiefly take Notice of two, the one general, and the other particular. The general one is the Incon|&s;i&s;tency that appears in the Character of <HI>Byblis.</HI> For &s;he, who in &s;ome Places of her Pa&s;&s;ion appears &s;o relu|ctant, &s;eems too abandon'd in others; which are two or three Pa&s;&s;ages of her Letter (for from the beginning of the Story to the Letter, every thing &s;eems to me to be ju&s;t enough) in which &s;he &s;ays &s;ome things that are by no means con&s;i&s;tent with that Mode&s;ty, which &s;he ought to have, as a Lady, a Virgin, and a Woman of Honor. I know very well that a Woman of Honor, when once &s;he is &s;eiz'd by a great Pa&s;&s;ion, has more violent De&s;ires than the mo&s;t abandon'd Woman can have. For aban|don'd Women are con&s;equently weak, and it is a true Ob&s;ervation, that weak People, tho they are &s;ubject to Pa&s;|&s;ions at every turn, yet are they never throughly agitated by them. But this is mo&s;t certain, that a Woman of Ho|nor can never break out into immode&s;t Expre&s;&s;ions, let her Pa&s;&s;ion be never &s;o violent. For Immode&s;ty in Expre&s;|&s;ion mu&s;t &s;how her profligate to the very la&s;t Degree, and mu&s;t be utterly incon&s;i&s;tent with any mea&s;ure of Honor. Now <HI>Byblis,</HI> who &s;hows in &s;ome places &s;o much of Honor, by &s;uch &s;harp Remor&s;e, and &s;uch furious Reluctancy, ought certainly to have contented her &s;elf with a bare Con|fe&s;&s;ion of her Pa&s;&s;ion; and not to have behav'd her &s;elf
<PB REF="3">as if &s;he thought her Brother &s;o very young, that he was to be in&s;tructed how to proceed in the Cure of it.</P>
<P>It may be &s;aid perhaps that the Relation of the Dream, which precedes the Letter, is the mo&s;t immode&s;t thing in the Story. I will ea&s;ily grant it, and that that Relation is in the original, the mo&s;t alluring de&s;cription that can be imagin'd, and almo&s;t equally tran&s;porting with what it de&s;cribes. But it mu&s;t then be con&s;ider'd that what <HI>Byblis</HI> &s;ays there, &s;he only &s;peaks to her &s;elf, which a|mounts to no more than if &s;he but barely thought it. And there is nothing certainly in that Reflection on her Dream, but what is extreamly natural.</P>
<P>The &s;econd Fault in this Pa&s;&s;ion of <HI>Byblis,</HI> is in the pa&s;&s;age that immediately follows the return of the Me&s;&s;en|ger. For that which ought to be the mo&s;t moving, is the colde&s;t part of the Story. I &s;peak of the fir&s;t thirteen Lines of the <HI>Latin</HI> (for all that follows &s;eems to be &s;uf|ficiently warm) where <HI>Byblis,</HI> who can &s;carce &s;peak for the Violence of her Grief, is yet for &s;peaking in Allegory; which is nothing but an imperfect kind of Similitude.</P>
<P>Now Simile in this place could not be moving, becau&s;e it could not be natural; it being by no means the Lan|guage of great Grief. For to be in a capacity to make a good &s;imilitude, the Mind mu&s;t have &s;everal qualificati|ons, and two more particularly; which are utterly incon|&s;i&s;tent with that Pa&s;&s;ion. Fir&s;t, The Soul mu&s;t be &s;u&s;cep|tible of a great many Idea's, and the Imagination capaci|ous of a great many Images. For the Fancy mu&s;t run
<PB REF="4">thro, and compare a great many Objects, before it can &s;tart a hint from them, which may carry with it that ap|pearance of likene&s;s which may afterward by the Judg|ment be improved to an exact re&s;emblance (not but that I know very well, that the Soul on tho&s;e occa&s;ions acts with that prodigious Celerity, that it is its &s;elf in&s;en&s;ible of the degrees of its own motion.) Now it is the Nature of Grief to confine the Soul, and &s;traiten the Imagination, and extreamly to le&s;&s;en the number of their Objects. And indeed if the Pa&s;&s;ion is very violent, a man is ince&s;&s;antly thinking of the cau&s;e of it. For example, the unfortu|nate Lover has eternally before his Eyes, the Image of his Cruel Fair-one. He thinks Day and Night of her alone, he contemplates nothing but her, and if he complains of her, 'tis only after that &s;imple unaffected way, by which Nature teaches man to di&s;charge his Soul of &s;orrow. And it is for this very rea&s;on that the greater part of Mr. <HI>Cow|ley</HI>'s amorous Ver&s;es are univer&s;ally exploded by men of &s;ence, at the &s;ame time that they confe&s;s, that &s;everal of his Mi&s;cellaneous Writings, his Pindaric Odes, and his Di|vine Hymn to Light, will ju&s;tly de&s;erve the Admiration of our late&s;t Po&s;terity. For in mo&s;t of tho&s;e amorous Ver&s;es, there appears thro the di&s;gui&s;e of an affected Pa&s;&s;ion, a Gayety of Heart, a Wantonne&s;s of Wit, and a Soul that's at Liberty to roam about the &V;niver&s;e, and return home laden with rich, but far fetch'd Conceits. As merry in this re&s;pect as the Madrigals of our amorous Rakehells; who langui&s;h in Simile, whil&s;t they thrive in Carka&s;s; and who eating their Half-Crowns
<PB REF="4">every day thrice, decay and dye by Metaphor. In &s;hort, no &s;ort of imagery ever can be the Language of Grief. If a man complains in Simile, I either laugh or &s;leep. For this is plain, that if a man's Affliction will &s;uffer him to divert his mind by one Simile, he may as well do it by twenty, and &s;o on to the end of the Chapter. If &s;uch a man therefore is mi&s;erable, it is becau&s;e he is re&s;olved he will be &s;o. Now a man mu&s;t have an extraordinary stock of good Nature, who can pity a Blockhead, who is a Wretch by choice.</P>
<P>But &s;econdly, For the Mind to be capable of making Similitudes, it is nece&s;&s;ary it &s;hould be &s;erene (unle&s;s it be tran&s;ported with that noble Euthu&s;ia&s;m, which delights, illuminates, and exalts the Soul, at the very &s;ame time it di&s;turbs it.) For without Serenity a man can never have Penetration enough to di&s;cern the Nature of things, which Penetration is ab&s;olutely nece&s;&s;ary for the making a ju&s;t Similitude; And it is upon this very account that <HI>Ari&s;to|tle</HI> &s;ays in his Rhetorick, that to be happy in making Similitudes, it is ab&s;olutely nece&s;&s;ary to be a man of good Sence.</P>
<P>Some of my Friends, to whom I have recited in Con|ver&s;ation, the &s;ub&s;tance of what I have here repeated in Writing, have advi&s;ed me to leave out this un&s;ea&s;onable Similitude, e&s;pecially &s;ince I have made &s;o bold with <HI>Ovid,</HI> as to in&s;ert here and there a Thought of my own. For it is my Lord <HI>Ro&s;common</HI>'s opinion, that it is much &s;afer to leave out than add. Tho no man pays more deference
<PB REF="5">to his Judgment than I do, I cannot be of his mind in this. For tho I am not ignorant that a &s;curvy pre&s;ent, is but a more civil Affront; I cannot but believe it to be le&s;s injurious than a Robbery. And if any man &s;hould be caught, <HI>ip&s;o facto,</HI> &s;tripping another upon the Road, it would be but an impudent excu&s;e in him, to alledge that the Cloaths but ill became their Owner. All that I could do here, was by giving this pa&s;&s;age another turn, to make that appear in the Copy to be &s;poken in a &s;hort, but down|right Fury, who&s;e fault it was in the original to &s;eem to be &s;poken with too much Con&s;ideratene&s;s, and too much Coolne&s;s of Temper.</P>
<P>The Author of the Satyrs upon the Je&s;uits, who has tran&s;lated this Pa&s;&s;ion of <HI>Byblis,</HI> has not meddled with the Cata&s;trophe. Now the Cata&s;trophe was ab&s;olutely nece&s;&s;a|ry, that the Story at ending might make a deeper impre&s;|&s;ion: I have therefore contracted it in the la&s;t five Lines, but at the &s;ame time I have alter'd it. For to make it moving it was nece&s;&s;ary to make it credible.</P>
<P>The Transformation of <HI>Byblis</HI> might do very well in the time of <HI>Augu&s;tus Cae&s;ar.</HI> For at that time tho&s;e Tran&s;|formations were a part of the <HI>Roman</HI> Religion, and the Poets may be &s;aid to be the Secular Prie&s;ts, who tran&s;mit|ted its my&s;teries to the People. But tho&s;e tran&s;ub&s;tantia|ting Doctrines, which were taught in tho&s;e times by that Harmonious Clergy of the credulous Church of old <HI>Rome,</HI> would look as ab&s;urdly to us as the Chimerical Metamor|pho&s;is, which is pretended to be acted at the very time it is &s;ung in our modern <HI>Roman</HI> Churches.</P>
<PB REF="5">
<P>I mu&s;t beg pardon for the Liberty which I have taken in the numbers, which is &s;o great that it may well be entitled Licen&s;e. But then the Reader will have the greater Variety, and if tho&s;e Numbers are not harmoni|ous, it is not for want of care about them. I have par|ticularly taken care to be exact in the Rimes, in which the former Tran&s;lators of this pa&s;&s;age have been very defective. I am not &s;o mi&s;erably mi&s;taken, as to think riming e&s;&s;ential to our <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> Poetry. I am far better acquainted with <HI>Milton,</HI> than that comes too. Who without the a&s;&s;i&s;tance of Rime, is one of the mo&s;t &s;ublime of our <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> Poets. Nay, there is &s;omething &s;o tran&s;cendently &s;ublime in his fir&s;t, &s;econd, and &s;ixth Books, that were the Language as pure as the Images are va&s;t and daring, I do not believe it could be equall'd, no, not in all antiquity. But tho I know that Ri|ming is not ab&s;olutely nece&s;&s;ary to our Ver&s;ification, yet I am for having a man do throughly what he has once pretended to do. Writing in blank Ver&s;e looks like a contempt of Rime, and a generous di&s;dain of a barba|rous Cu&s;tom; but Writing in &s;uch Rimes as a Boy may laugh at, at <HI>Crambo,</HI> looks at the be&s;t like a fruitle&s;s attempt, and an impotent Affectation.</P>
<P>My Lord <HI>Ro&s;common</HI> who writ in blank Ver&s;e with &s;o much &s;ucce&s;s, yet was nicely exact in Riming, when|ever he pretended to rime. And in the very e&s;&s;ay upon tran&s;lated Ver&s;e in which he exclaims again&s;t Rime, I
<PB REF="6">defy any man to &s;how me half a dozen couplets which do not rime exactly.</P>
<P>In &s;hort, if riming is ever nece&s;&s;ary in &s;o &s;trong and ma&s;culine a Language as ours, it mu&s;t be on the&s;e ten|der occa&s;ions. For tho I have heard &s;everal maintain, that a thing may be expre&s;&s;ed as nobly and vigorou&s;ly in blank Ver&s;e, as in Rime; I never yet heard any one pre|tend that it might be expre&s;&s;ed as &s;oftly. But granting it could, it is yet very certain, that a thing mu&s;t be much more tender in perfect Rimes, than imperfect. For where the Reader expects a Rime, there jarring &s;ounds mu&s;t render that har&s;h, which agreeing &s;ounds would render ea&s;ie. But then it is nece&s;&s;ary that the Rimes &s;hould be uncon&s;trained, and no word us'd upon their account in the place where it is not proper.</P>
<P>But &s;ince I have mention'd Mr <HI>Oldham</HI>'s performance, in this Tran&s;lation, I think fit to add further, that I have been told by &s;ome, that a great many will never for|give me the attempting it after him. I de&s;ire them to con&s;ider, that the &s;ame Mr. <HI>Oldham</HI> undertook <HI>Horace</HI>'s Art of Poetry after my Lord <HI>Ro&s;common.</HI> Now my Lord <HI>Ro&s;common</HI> was Politene&s;s it &s;elf. Never man thought more clearly, more truly, more ju&s;tly than he did; never man expre&s;&s;'d him&s;elf more fitly and more becomingly. In eve|ry thing that he writ, his Language was as perfect as his Conceptions were often &s;ublime. On every thing that came from him, he has &s;tamp'd the character not only of an exalted
<PB REF="6">Wit, but of a man of a high Condition, and of a courtly Mind.</P>
<P>If I &s;hould affirm that Mr. <HI>Oldham</HI> had by no means all the good Qualities which are con&s;picuous in my Lord <HI>Ro&s;common,</HI> who is there that mu&s;t not a&s;&s;ent to it? If then I am guilty of pre&s;umption in attempting what Mr. <HI>Oldham</HI> undertook before me, I hope I may be excu&s;ed by his own example. But if &s;ome People yet can re&s;olve to be angry, I mu&s;t beg them to con&s;ider for what. Is it becau&s;e I have a de&s;ire to plea&s;e them? That methinks is unnatural. Tho I &s;hould own, I have an Ambition to give them more Delight than the fore-mentioned Gentle|man has done before me, I cannot &s;ee any thing in &s;uch a Confe&s;&s;ion which can rea&s;onably di&s;oblige them. Such an knowledgment ought rather to gain me their Favor, or at lea&s;t to conquer their Prejudice, e&s;pecially &s;ince 'tis the intere&s;t of every Reader to be as candid as the Ca&s;e will let him be. 'Tis true, a man of &s;ence can never be &s;atisfi'd with a &s;illy thing. But a peevi&s;h, unrea&s;onable Caviller, will never be &s;atisfied with any thing. Little con&s;idering that by a fal&s;e delicacy he makes him&s;elf pa&s;s tho&s;e moments &s;curvily, which another perhaps has done his part to make him pa&s;s agreeably.</P>
<P>Be&s;ides, if I &s;hould &s;ucceed here, ev'n beyond my wi&s;h, I &s;hould be very far upon that &s;core, from arrogating Prehe|minence over any man. The following Tran&s;lation is a trifle, and can never be conclu&s;ive of any &s;uch thing. To &s;ucceed in
<PB REF="7">it required neither Force nor Genius, but only a Tenderne&s;s of Soul (which Mr. <HI>Oldham</HI>'s ma&s;culine temper di&s;dain'd) and an extraordinary propen&s;ity to that humane frailty, Com|pa&s;&s;ion; and a certain Felicity which u&s;ually accompanies the dictates of the &s;ofter Pa&s;&s;ions. To conclude, I leave it to any one to con&s;ider whether a Satyrist, as Mr. <HI>Oldham</HI> was, at the very time that, in&s;pir'd by a generous rage, he had a&s;&s;um'd a re&s;olution of expo&s;ing the Follies, and la&s;hing the Vices of the Age, could be fitly di&s;pos'd to ex|cite Compa&s;&s;ion; by &s;etting before our eyes an unfortunate Lady, who&s;e Love was at once her Folly and her Crime.</P>
</DIV1>
</FRONT>
<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="poem">
<PB REF="7">
<HEAD>THE Pa&s;&s;ion of Byblis.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>BRight Nymphs, the Objects of Mankind's De&s;ires,</L>
<L>From <HI>Byblis</HI> learn t' avoid ince&s;tuous Fires:</L>
<L>She <HI>Caunus</HI> lov'd, with tenderne&s;s above</L>
<L>The cold endearments of a Si&s;ters Love.</L>
<L>At fir&s;t &s;he knew it not, unhappy Maid!</L>
<L>To impious Flames by Piety betraid.</L>
<L>She frequently would ki&s;s the beauteous Boy,</L>
<L>And thought her Duty what &s;he found her Joy.</L>
<L>Her Love for Duty &s;he mi&s;took with ea&s;e,</L>
<L>Yet was &s;urpriz'd that Duty thus &s;hould plea&s;e.</L>
<L>Her twining Arms his lovely Neck would cla&s;p,</L>
<L>Fierce was each Ki&s;s, and furious ev'ry Gra&s;p.</L>
<PB N="2" REF="8">
<L>In&s;en&s;ibly her Pa&s;&s;ion gathers force,</L>
<L>And has to Female Stratagems recour&s;e.</L>
<L>About to vi&s;it <HI>Caunus,</HI> e're She goes,</L>
<L>Her skilful Maids her wanton Dre&s;s compo&s;e;</L>
<L>And all the Ornaments of Art prepare</L>
<L>To &s;et forth all that Heav'n has giv'n the Fair,</L>
<L>Ten thou&s;and <HI>Cupids</HI> in her Eyes, &amp; Graces in her Air.</L>
<L>Then in her Gla&s;s &s;h' explores what pow'r there lyes,</L>
<L>In a Maje&s;tic ea&s;ie Meen, and lovely glancing Eyes;</L>
<L>Practices Smiles, &s;uch by which Souls are caught,</L>
<L>Great, God-like Spirits to dependance brought,</L>
<L>The Magic by the great Enchantre&s;s Nature taught.</L>
<L>She envies ev'ry Face that's form'd to plea&s;e,</L>
<L>And wonders why, not knowing her di&s;ea&s;e.</L>
<L>So men in Hecticks, wa&s;ting for their Urn,</L>
<L>Hourly con&s;ume, yet feel not that they burn.</L>
<L>Pent in her inmo&s;t Brea&s;t the raging Fire,</L>
<L>Had not as yet flam'd up to high de&s;ire;</L>
<L>Her Brother, now her Lord, her Dear &s;he names,</L>
<L>And kindred, Love thus tenderly di&s;claims.</L>
<PB N="3" REF="8">
<L>Her Pa&s;&s;ion now &s;he doubts, yet does controul,</L>
<L>No guilty thought yet &s;tain'd her waking Soul,</L>
<L>On it, with Night, the black pollution &s;tole.</L>
<L>A plea&s;ing Dream t' her &s;ide her Brother brings,</L>
<L>With panting Brea&s;ts &s;he murmuring to him clings:</L>
<L>Strait in her Face offended Nature flies,</L>
<L>And Blu&s;hes dawn around her darkned Eyes,</L>
<L>She wakes, but hu&s;h'd &amp; rapt in fearful wonder lies.</L>
<L>Her Dream at once can charm her and torment,</L>
<L>The aery Omen boads &s;ome dire Event.</L>
<L>A long time mute &s;he all her Soul &s;urveys,</L>
<L>And then its grief in the&s;e wild words di&s;plays.</L>
<L>What means the Vi&s;ion of the guilty Night?</L>
<L>Ah Wretch! What Horror! mix'd with what delight!</L>
<L>Why did that lovely &s;hape break in upon my &s;ight?</L>
<L>'Tis true, ev'n Envy no defect can find,</L>
<L>Or in the Beauties of his Face, or Graces of his mind.</L>
<L>Ev'n Envy can contented on him gaze,</L>
<L>By liking &s;ullenly it &s;elf amaze,</L>
<L>And learn to &s;peak a foreign Language, Prai&s;e.</L>
<PB N="4" REF="9">
<L>The Gods have made him fit to be de&s;ir'd,</L>
<L>Have made him by them&s;elves to be admir'd.</L>
<L>But oh! a Brother's once endearing name</L>
<L>Is now the Foe that's fatal to my Flame.</L>
<L>Yet whil&s;t awake I can continue cha&s;te,</L>
<L>May ev'ry golden Dream be like the la&s;t.</L>
<L>For what vain Fop the &s;port of &s;uch a Bed</L>
<L>Can idly blab? or what dull Libel &s;pread?</L>
<L>Honor's &s;ecure, whil&s;t Plea&s;ure I per&s;ue,</L>
<L>And this fal&s;e bli&s;s is &s;urely worth the true.</L>
<L>Bright Queen of Love, and wing'd delicious Boy</L>
<L>Soft, &s;weet, and &s;wift as was my flitting Joy;</L>
<L>Into what Heav'n of Rapture was I caught!</L>
<L>Too powerful joys for words, too va&s;t for thought!</L>
<L>By dying Sighs, and broken Murmurs, be&s;t</L>
<L>When ab&s;ent mourn'd, and when enjoy'd expre&s;t.</L>
<L>The Vi&s;ion did &s;uch quick delight di&s;pen&s;e,</L>
<L>I &s;ometimes doubt if fancy were not &s;en&s;e.</L>
<L>I felt, perfectly felt, what I adore,</L>
<L>The God-like touch gave bli&s;s unknown before.</L>
<PB N="5" REF="9">
<L>Th' immortal Plea&s;ure ran thro all my Frame,</L>
<L>Thro all my Bones, and inmo&s;t Marrow came,</L>
<L>That melted and ran pouring down before th' im|petuous Flame.</L>
<L>For ever &s;hall the charming Memory la&s;t</L>
<L>Of Tran&s;ports, which, alas! <HI>too</HI> quickly pa&s;t!</L>
<L>For the Malignant Godde&s;s of the Night,</L>
<L>Envying my Bli&s;s, urg'd on her Head-long Flight.</L>
<L>O! could we but di&s;&s;olve great Nature's tye,</L>
<L>How well we link'd in &s;tricter Bonds might lye?</L>
<L>Who could be fitlier pair'd than thou and I?</L>
<L>As thou no Maid can'&s;t e're tran&s;port like me,</L>
<L>Who &s;uch high Happine&s;s can give to thee?</L>
<L>Ah <HI>Caunus!</HI> that we ev'ry Night like this</L>
<L>Might lie entranc'd in va&s;t ex&s;tatic Bli&s;s!</L>
<L>Cur&s;t be the time when my great Father did</L>
<L>The Deed for me, which I'm with thee forbid;</L>
<L>Would I had been (deriv'd from &s;ome poor Swain)</L>
<L>But the mo&s;t love&s;ome &s;he upon the Plain:</L>
<L>What Nature mu&s;t deny me now, the God might then obtain.</L>
<PB N="6" REF="10">
<L>Ah! who mu&s;t ravi&s;h'd in thy' Embraces be?</L>
<L>Exalted above Godde&s;&s;es is &s;he,</L>
<L>Faire&s;t of men! who mu&s;t b'embrac'd by thee.</L>
<L>I never can that full content enjoy,</L>
<L>Thou Brother! Thou! too dear, too charming Boy!</L>
<L>By being thus far mine, do&s;t all my Hopes de&s;troy.</L>
<L>But what import or what are then my Dreams,</L>
<L>The fond Re&s;ults of Hypochondriack Steams?</L>
<L>Or do they as divinely' in&s;pir'd pre&s;age?</L>
<L>The Gods forbid! The Gods repel this Rage!</L>
<L>The Gods this Fever of my Soul a&s;&s;uage!</L>
<L>Yet <HI>Saturn</HI> of his Si&s;ter made his Bride,</L>
<L>And in ince&s;tuous Fires the Thunderer fry'd.</L>
<L>But Gods have high Prerogatives, and they</L>
<L>Who rule the World with Arbitrary Sway</L>
<L>Are unconfin'd by Laws which we obey.</L>
<L>Laws by tho&s;e happy Beings are di&s;dain'd,</L>
<L>Who would b' imperfect if like us re&s;train'd.</L>
<L>Then from thy Brea&s;t expel the&s;e impious Fires,</L>
<L>Tho, with thy Love's, Life's genial Flame expires.</L>
<PB N="7" REF="10">
<L>Yes: if all other Methods fail, I'le dye,</L>
<L><HI>Caunus</HI> will ki&s;s me as I panting lye,</L>
<L>To his &s;weet Lips, as to its Heav'n, my parting Soul will fly.</L>
<L>Yet &s;ay thou &s;hould&s;t indulge thy wild De&s;ire,</L>
<L>T' accompli&s;h it does his Con&s;ent require.</L>
<L>What you thus wi&s;h, and your chief good e&s;teem,</L>
<L>To him may black and execrable &s;eem.</L>
<L>Yet formerly, to quench a Si&s;ters Flame,</L>
<L><HI>Macareus</HI> Con&s;cience did contemn, and Fame.</L>
<L>Ah Wretch! ha&s;t thou re&s;olv'd upon the Deed?</L>
<L>Whence can the&s;e Thoughts? the&s;e cur&s;t Remarks proceed,</L>
<L>Oh whither am I driv'n! O whither to&s;t!</L>
<L>How in tempe&s;tuous Thought my Rea&s;on's lo&s;t?</L>
<L>Hence ye ob&s;cene Flames, ye Furies hence, go dwell</L>
<L>In your own native Soil, profounde&s;t Hell.</L>
<L>Love the &s;weet Youth, but love without a Fault,</L>
<L>And love him as the kinde&s;t Si&s;ter ought.</L>
</LG>
<PB N="8" REF="11">
<LG>
<L>But yet did he thus rave for <HI>Byblis,</HI> I</L>
<L>Could ne're re&s;olve to &s;ee my <HI>Caunus</HI> dye.</L>
<L>I &s;hould Compa&s;&s;ion have of him; I &s;ure</L>
<L>Should him, by humoring his frenzy, cure.</L>
<L>Well! if thou &s;hould&s;t that ea&s;y Creature be,</L>
<L>Can'&s;t thou abandon'd be to that degree,</L>
<L>As to &s;peak fir&s;t? Can'&s;t thou for Favor &s;ue?</L>
<L>Thou art a Virgin, great, and mode&s;t too.</L>
<L>Ah! we are mode&s;t, but becau&s;e we're frail,</L>
<L>O're whom does not Almighty Love prevail?</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>But yet th' expedient which I mean to try,</L>
<L>Shall both with Ba&s;hfulne&s;s and Love comply.</L>
<L>A Letter &s;hall my troubled thoughts convey,</L>
<L>And by its black Contents my &s;ecret Fires betray.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>This Re&s;olution fix'd her doubtful Mind,</L>
<L>Then, on her Arm, her lovely Head reclin'd.</L>
<L>Yes, he &s;hall know what torturing pains I feel,</L>
<L>I can no more my de&s;perate ca&s;e conceal,</L>
<L>Such Frenzy &s;oon would its own cau&s;e reveal.</L>
<PB N="9" REF="11">
<L>O what infernal flame! What fury's this!</L>
<L>Gods! from what height I plunge, to what aby&s;s!</L>
<L>Eternally farewell, O Honor, Vertue, Bli&s;s!</L>
<L>Then with &s;ad Looks and trembling Hand &s;h'indites,</L>
<L>Begins and doubts, nay damns what &s;carce &s;he writes.</L>
<L>Yet to what now &s;he blames, &s;he &s;trait returns;</L>
<L>With Rapture now &s;h'invents, what now &s;he burns.</L>
<L>Then what this moment to the Flames &s;he dooms,</L>
<L>The next &s;he with a whirl of thought re&s;umes.</L>
<L>Ince&s;&s;antly &s;he turns her fev'ri&s;h mind,</L>
<L>Too di&s;compos'd ev'n her own will to find.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Your Si&s;ter, <HI>(Caunus!)</HI> thus at fir&s;t &s;he wrote,</L>
<L>Ah no! his Lover! Si&s;ter thus I blot.</L>
<L>Your Lover &s;ends that health &s;he wants, for I</L>
<L>Unle&s;s you give me health, mu&s;t &s;urely dye.</L>
<L>As for my Name, O let it not be told,</L>
<L>Till promis'd happine&s;s makes <HI>Byblis</HI> bold!</L>
<L>'Tis &s;he who for you hourly wa&s;tes away,</L>
<L>Heeding you might have &s;een this ev'ry day.</L>
<PB N="10" REF="12">
<L>Love ev'ry day &s;till langui&s;h'd in my look,</L>
<L>Which colour, health, and &s;prightly joy for&s;ook.</L>
<L>How often, when no cau&s;e of Grief was known,</L>
<L>Have I &s;ome inward, deep di&s;turbance &s;hown?</L>
<L>How oft did Tears &s;teal from my mournful Eyes,</L>
<L>And in my Brea&s;ts convul&s;ive heavings ri&s;e?</L>
<L>Then on a &s;udden &s;adne&s;s turn'd to rage,</L>
<L>And my wild arms did your &s;oft limbs engage.</L>
<L>As the luxuriant tendrils of the Vine</L>
<L>Around the Flm with wanton windings twine,</L>
<L>My &s;pringing arms flew round and lock'd in thine.</L>
<L>And when thy Lips to mine they fiercely brought,</L>
<L>My burning Lips at thine for moi&s;ture &s;ought.</L>
<L>No Si&s;ters faint &s;alute! no ta&s;tele&s;s Ki&s;s!</L>
<L>But piercing like a Dove's, and murmuring at its bli&s;s.</L>
<L>But yet tho deep, ah deep! the flaming Dart,</L>
<L>Piercing my burning brea&s;t, transfix'd my heart,</L>
<L>Alarm'd, like wretches by nocturnal Fire,</L>
<L>And trembling at the terrible de&s;ire,</L>
<PB N="11" REF="12">
<L>Long time I &s;trove its fury to a&s;&s;wage,</L>
<L>And long time &s;trugling Virtue &s;topt its rage.</L>
<L>This Truth, O all ye Cha&s;ter Powers atte&s;t!</L>
<L>Ye &s;aw the fearful conflict in my Brea&s;t,</L>
<L>When Honour, Piety, Remor&s;e and Shame,</L>
<L>My very vitals tore t' expel my flame.</L>
<L>In mi&s;ery grown ob&s;tinate, I bore</L>
<L>What never tender Virgin did before.</L>
<L>When what I &s;uffer'd other Maids but hear,</L>
<L>'Twill wound their gentle hearts, and force a tear.</L>
<L>Retreating, long I fought th' unequal field,</L>
<L>But now I turn to conquering Love, and yield.</L>
<L>I here my &s;elf his Slave and yours confe&s;s,</L>
<L>And cry for mercy in extream di&s;tre&s;s;</L>
<L>But you alone can my &s;ad &s;tate redre&s;s.</L>
<L>Her Life who loves you hangs upon your breath,</L>
<L>And upon that alas! depends her Death.</L>
<L>I love to that degree, that neither Gods nor Fate,</L>
<L>If you pronounce my Doom, have pow'r t' extend my date.</L>
<PB N="12" REF="13">
<L>My Life or Death determine by your Voice,</L>
<L>Can you deliberate in &s;uch a choice?</L>
<L>Can you be proof again&s;t &s;uch Words as the&s;e?</L>
<L>The&s;e from the per&s;on whom you hate might plea&s;e.</L>
<L>Me Nature has begun to make your Friend,</L>
<L>What Nature has begun a God mu&s;t end.</L>
<L>Un&s;atisfi'd, unble&s;t by Nature's tye,</L>
<L>All Night I langui&s;h, and all Day I dye,</L>
<L>Till riveted by Love to your dear Brea&s;t I lye.</L>
<L>Let Dotards Slaves to mu&s;ty Morals be,</L>
<L>Au&s;terities and Impotence agree.</L>
<L>But in us two hot Youth and fierce De&s;ire</L>
<L>To &s;ublime Raptures furiou&s;ly a&s;pire,</L>
<L>And into right and wrong want lei&s;ure to enquire.</L>
<L>Thus young we yet may Innocence pretend,</L>
<L>Or grant we know we Natures bounds tran&s;cend</L>
<L>By great examples of our Gods we gloriou&s;ly offend.</L>
<L>All Letts t' Enjoyment are remov'd by Fate,</L>
<L>Unle&s;s it be (forbid it Heav'n!) thy Hate.</L>
<PB N="13" REF="13">
<L>No rigorous Parents interpo&s;e to break</L>
<L>The a&s;&s;ignations we may hourly make.</L>
<L>Our frequent meetings need no &s;candal fear,</L>
<L>For intimacy's honourable here.</L>
<L>What Spy can our delicious thefts detect?</L>
<L>Who can di&s;clo&s;e what none can e're &s;u&s;pect?</L>
<L>Should &s;ome bold cen&s;urer our conduct blame,</L>
<L>A Brother's and a Si&s;ter's awful name,</L>
<L>Would an&s;w'ring &s;top the &s;awcy mouths of Fame.</L>
<L>We' in publick ki&s;s, embrace, and whi&s;p'ring walk,</L>
<L>And hand in hand &s;oft melting things we talk.</L>
<L>When two like us in clo&s;e embraces ki&s;s,</L>
<L>Does there not &s;omething u&s;e to follow this?</L>
<L>Upon that &s;omething (ah how very &s;mall!)</L>
<L>Depends my happine&s;s, my life, my all.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Pity a wretch, who thus much dares expre&s;s,</L>
<L>Who wrack'd by mortal pangs, dares Love confe&s;s.</L>
<L>Which, whil&s;t they all my nobler powers controul,</L>
<L>Tear forth the &s;ecret of my tortur'd Soul.</L>
<PB N="14" REF="14">
<L>If Nature's Law &s;eems broke whil&s;t this you read,</L>
<L>Think that for happine&s;s, for life I plead,</L>
<L>Here Nature's &s;elf her Law mu&s;t &s;uper&s;ede.</L>
<L>You &s;urely kill me if unkind you prove,</L>
<L>O barbarous return of boundle&s;s Love!</L>
<L>Think how upon my Sepulchre 'twill &s;ound,</L>
<L>How ev'ry Heart thro ev'ry Ear 'twill wound;</L>
<L>Here <HI>Byblis</HI> lyes, a tender, wretched Maid,</L>
<L>By <HI>Caunus</HI> for her Love with Death repaid.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Thus all on fire her working Mind indites,</L>
<L>Till ev'ry Page and Margent's full, &s;he writes.</L>
<L>Then &s;he her Crime folds up, and &s;hrowds from Sight,</L>
<L>And &s;ealing, &s;huts the mon&s;trous birth from Light.</L>
<L>Now &s;he an old Dome&s;tic calls by Name,</L>
<L>With accents more than half &s;uppre&s;t by Shame.</L>
<L>Thou art my very faithful Servant &s;till,</L>
<L>With &s;ecre&s;y and &s;peed perform my Will.</L>
<L>Of this important Letter, here, take care,</L>
<L>On it my Life and Fame depend, go bear &mdash;</L>
<PB N="15" REF="14">
<L>Here grief and con&s;cious &s;hame her accents &s;mother,</L>
<L>Then after a long &s;ad pau&s;e&mdash;</L>
<L>Go bear it to, &s;aid &s;he, Ah Gods! &mdash;my Brother.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Now as &s;he from the fatal Writing parts,</L>
<L>It falls; &s;he trembling at the Omen, &s;tars:</L>
<L>Yet fondly to de&s;truction on &s;he goes.</L>
<L>Her tru&s;ty Slave a fit conjuncture cho&s;e;</L>
<L>To <HI>Caunus</HI> his apartment he repairs,</L>
<L>And to the noble Youth the dreadful Secret bears.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Rage, horror, wonder, &s;eiz'd him at the view,</L>
<L>From him the Letter furiou&s;ly he threw.</L>
<L>Storming, his Hand upon his Sword he lays,</L>
<L>And to the trembling Me&s;&s;enger he &s;ays:</L>
<L>Flagitious Pander to ince&s;tuous Fires!</L>
<L>Slave! thou &s;hould&s;t dye, as thy bold crime requires,</L>
<L>Did not the honour of my hou&s;e and name</L>
<L>Tell me, thy blood, if &s;pilt, would &s;pread our &s;hame.</L>
<PB N="16" REF="15">
<L>But quickly from my ju&s;t re&s;entment fly,</L>
<L>Or that &s;hall yet prevail, and thou &s;halt dye.</L>
<L>This to the Slave, with a &s;tern brow he &s;aid;</L>
<L>He pale at in&s;tant death, and &s;hudd'ring, fled,</L>
<L>And with the mortal news &s;truck dying <HI>Byblis</HI> dead.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>An Icy damp, cold as the dart of Death,</L>
<L>Thrill'd thro her throbbing brea&s;t &amp; &s;top'd her breath</L>
<L>Life's flame's o're-pow'r'd in ev'ry other part,</L>
<L>But &s;till Love's fire maintains it at her heart.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>As &s;oon as her returning Spirits gave</L>
<L>Ju&s;t &s;trength to mourn, and &s;ence enough to rave,</L>
<L>With hollow voice the trembling air &s;he wounds,</L>
<L>And &s;oftly &s;ighs out the&s;e afflicting &s;ounds.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Repell'd! di&s;dain'd! nay, loath'd! could wor&s;e befal,</L>
<L>Thy conduct and thy crime de&s;erve it all.</L>
<L>For why ha&s;t thou, O wretch, to madne&s;s bold!</L>
<L>Thus ra&s;hly thy prodigious Secret told?</L>
<PB N="17" REF="15">
<L>What Fool would Happine&s;s, Life, Fame commit</L>
<L>To a fond Letter in confu&s;ion writ?</L>
<L>Thou &s;hould&s;t in doubtful terms have fir&s;t addre&s;t,</L>
<L>Th'uncertain depths have &s;ounded of his Brea&s;t.</L>
<L>Fool! thus pre&s;umptuou&s;ly to leave the Shore,</L>
<L>And not the Winds, nor the new Seas explore.</L>
<L>Tho&s;e Winds now roar, and the mad Seas run high,</L>
<L>And all things round look hideous to my Eye,</L>
<L>A raging Main! and black tempe&s;tuous Sky!</L>
<L>To Death I thro &s;urrounding Horrors go,</L>
<L>Now, now the Billows on the Rocks the bounding Ve&s;&s;el throw!</L>
<L>And yet by Omens certain and divine,</L>
<L>Thou wer't forbid to urge thy dire de&s;ign.</L>
<L>In the pronouncing how the Me&s;&s;age hung,</L>
<L>Foreboding Ruine on thy fault'ring Tongue!</L>
<L>Thy Genius whi&s;per'd thee within, beware!</L>
<L>And from without &s;ome God cry'd out, forbear!</L>
<L>Thy Letter by immortal impul&s;e fell,</L>
<L>As thou deliver'd'&s;t it (thou &s;aw&s;t it well)</L>
<PB N="18" REF="16">
<L>The Paper, mov'd by &s;ome eternal mind,</L>
<L>Th' accur&s;ed Errant by its flight declin'd:</L>
<L>O had thy Hope together fled! but Fate thy Doom de&s;ign'd.</L>
<L>Thy purpo&s;e el&s;e, by portents thus deterr'd,</L>
<L>Thou had&s;t giv'n o're: giv'n o're? ah no! deferr'd.</L>
<L>Who knows? upon &s;ome happier day perhaps thou had&s;t been heard.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>And yet would any one but thou have &s;ent,</L>
<L>When all thus lay at &s;take? thou &s;hould&s;t have went.</L>
<L>He from thy Lines not half thy &s;en&s;e could know,</L>
<L>Thy Eyes thy Love in all its Fury &s;how.</L>
<L>H' had &s;een tho&s;e dying Eyes, and &s;uch a Look,</L>
<L>As might a fell Barbarians Soul have &s;hook.</L>
<L>H' had heard the tender'&s;t things, and in a tone</L>
<L>That's fit t' expre&s;s a dying Lovers moan.</L>
<L>Round his reluctant Neck my Arms I'd flung,</L>
<L>And to his Brea&s;t with &s;trange Convul&s;ions clung.</L>
<L>Then pro&s;trate at his Feet h'had &s;een me lying,</L>
<L>There groaning, trembling, fainting, &s;wooning, dying.</L>
<PB N="19" REF="16">
<L>If one of the&s;e to move his Heart had fail'd,</L>
<L>His barbarous Heart, they all had &s;ure prevail'd.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Perhaps thy Servant caus'd thy ill &s;ucce&s;s,</L>
<L>By ha&s;ty management without addre&s;s.</L>
<L>He might ab&s;urdly chu&s;e &s;ome bu&s;y hour,</L>
<L>Too rude and har&s;h for Love's &s;oft tender pow'r.</L>
<L>Therefore he fail'd the noble Youth to move,</L>
<L>Can one who has tho&s;e Eyes inexorable prove?</L>
<L>His Brea&s;t's of no impenetrable mold,</L>
<L>No Adamantine Bars his Heart infold.</L>
<L>He did not from a Tygre&s;s &s;pring, no he</L>
<L>Sprung from the &s;ame &s;oft yielding Nymph with me.</L>
<L>Come, he mu&s;t yet be mine, I'le try once more,</L>
<L>Once more? a thou&s;and times, I'le ne're give o're.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>True, I could wi&s;h, if Actions once begun,</L>
<L>By empty wi&s;hes were to be undone.</L>
<L>Then could I wi&s;h, I never had indulg'd</L>
<L>This luckle&s;s Love, at lea&s;t had ne're divulg'd.</L>
<PB N="20" REF="17">
<L>But &s;ince what's pa&s;t ev'n Fate can ne're recall,</L>
<L>now mu&s;t through, whate're extreams befall.</L>
<L>He'll think if I thus lightly could di&s;claim,</L>
<L>I lightly entertain'd th' ince&s;tuous Flame.</L>
<L>Perhaps he may &s;u&s;pect &s;ome clo&s;e de&s;ign,</L>
<L>His Int're&s;t with his Fame to undermine.</L>
<L>That &s;pecious baits were for his Virtue laid,</L>
<L>To be to public Infamy betray'd.</L>
<L>He'll fancy this &s;ome common, ba&s;e de&s;ire,</L>
<L>Whereas the God the God the&s;e Ravings does in&s;pire.</L>
<L>His wrathful breath incen&s;es thus my Blood,</L>
<L>Drives on the liquid Fire, and rowls the &s;tormy Flood.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Should&s;t thou de&s;i&s;t? the horrid crime's conceiv'd,</L>
<L>And Innocence can never, never be retriev'd.</L>
<L>Thy Guilt has reach'd a very dreadful height,</L>
<L>What? &s;o much Guilt? and for it no Delight?</L>
<L>Advancing, little can thy Guilt inhaunce,</L>
<L>And to the va&s;t Delight of Gods it <HI>Byblis</HI> may advance.</L>
<PB N="21" REF="17">
<L>Thus as &s;ome ea&s;e upon her Bed &s;he &s;ought,</L>
<L>Her lab'ring Fancy to Di&s;traction wrought,</L>
<L>To&s;&s;ing, &s;he fluctuates in tempe&s;tuous thought.</L>
<L>Her &s;ickly mind oppos'd de&s;igns revolves,</L>
<L>What it repents of to repeat re&s;olves.</L>
<L>Her Brother ob&s;tinately &s;he per&s;ues,</L>
<L>Often repuls'd, &s;he oft th' A&s;&s;ault renews.</L>
<L>Her Flame, that found the&s;e &s;tops, more fiercely burn'd,</L>
<L>But at the la&s;t to meer Di&s;traction turn'd.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Poor, haple&s;s Beauty! once thy conqu'ring Eyes</L>
<L>Could boa&s;t the noble&s;t <HI>Carian</HI> Hearts their Prize,</L>
<L>Now mad &s;he lies in &s;olitude, on <HI>Caunus</HI> raves and dyes.</L>
</LG>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
<BACK>
<DIV1 TYPE="annotations">
<PB N="22" REF="18">
<HEAD>Annotations</HEAD>
<Q><BIBL><HI>P. 5.</HI></BIBL> WOuld I had been (deriv'd from &s;ome poor Swain,) <HI>&amp;c.</HI></Q>
<P>The <HI>Latin</HI> is, <HI>Tu me vellem genero&s;ior e&s;&s;es.</HI></P>
<P>Mr. <HI>Oldham</HI> renders, it thus. <Q>Would thou wert noble, I more meanly born</Q> He makes her give this rea&s;on for her Wi&s;h, <HI>vid.</HI> <Q>Then guiltle&s;s I'd de&s;pair'd, and &s;uffer'd Scorn.</Q></P>
<P>Whereas the rea&s;on that I make her give is ju&s;t oppo&s;ite to it, <HI>vid.</HI> Then I might guiltle&s;s have enjoyed my <HI>Caunus. Ovid</HI> expre&s;&s;es no rea&s;on, but implies one; for there is &s;omething Pindarical in the &s;en&s;e of the pa&s;&s;age, and the Connexion is left to be made by the Rea|der, as we &s;hall find anon. In the mean while let us &s;ee, whither Mr. <HI>Oldham</HI>'s rea&s;on or mine is that of <HI>Ovid.</HI> To di&s;cover which let us con&s;ider, which is most agreeable to good &s;en&s;e, and the nature of her Pa&s;&s;ion, and mo&s;t &s;uitable to the De&s;ign of the Poet. It does not &s;eem to me to be con&s;i&s;tent with good &s;en&s;e, to make <HI>Byblis,</HI> who &s;o vehemently de&s;ir'd to enjoy her Brother, and who at the &s;ame time &s;aw the impo&s;&s;ibility of it, and felt the Plague of De&s;pair, wi&s;h that &s;he had been of a more ob&s;cure De&s;cent, rather than of her Brother's illu&s;trious Stock; only that with the &s;ame vehement de&s;ire &s;he might have the &s;ame De&s;pair. Nor does this &s;eem to be con&s;i&s;tent with the Nature of Love. For they who are throughly &s;eiz'd with that Pa&s;&s;ion, place all their Felicity in the beloved Object, and even in De&s;pair mo&s;t ardently de&s;ire Po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion. And &s;uch can no more wi&s;h to be in a Condition of Life, that might render them incapable of enjoying what they love, than any man or woman can truly wi&s;h to be mi&s;erable. It
<PB N="23" REF="18">had been therefore more con&s;onant to good &s;en&s;e, and the Nature of her Pa&s;&s;ion, to make her &s;peak thus. <HI>Had my Birth been more lowly, and I had been tormented with the &s;ame de&s;ire, tho there had been then an improbability of &s;atisfying it, yet con&s;idering what a Leveller Love is, there had not been then, as there is now, an ab&s;olute impo&s;&s;ibility of innocently enjoying my</HI> Caunus. To di&s;cover if this be not <HI>Ovid</HI>'s &s;en&s;e, I think fit with this pa&s;&s;age to cite what immediately precedes and follows.</P>
<Q><L>O ego, &s;i liceat mutato nomine jungi,</L>
<L>Quam bene, <HI>Caune,</HI> tuo poteram nurus e&s;&s;e Parenti!</L>
<L>Quam bene, <HI>Caune,</HI> meo poteras gener e&s;&s;e Parenti!</L>
<L>Omnia Dii facerent e&s;&s;ent communia nobis</L>
<L>Praeter avos, tu me vellem genero&s;ior e&s;&s;es.</L>
<L>Ne&s;cio quam facies igitur pulcherrime matrem</L></Q>
<P>That is to &s;ay, <HI>Could we but di&s;&s;olve the bonds of Nature, how well we might be joyn'd in &s;tricter! I wi&s;h that having every thing el&s;e in common, we had at lea&s;t a different Lineage; would I had been inferior to</HI> Caunus, <HI>rather than thus have been equal to him. But alas! this is but a vain wi&s;h, and therefore another mu&s;t be the happy &s;he who mu&s;t po&s;&s;e&s;s all that I langui&s;h for. <HI>I believe this will be allow'd to be a ju&s;t explication of</HI> Ovid <HI>'s &s;en&s;e. For the last ver&s;e by the word</HI> igitur <HI>must nece&s;&s;arily be an inference, from &s;omething expre&s;&s;ed or implied in the la&s;t but one. Now that which is implied can be nothing but this.</HI> If you had been of a dif|ferent Parentage, tho you had been more nobly de&s;cended, yet there had then been a po&s;&s;ibility (&s;uch is the force of Love) of my being ble&s;t in innocently po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ing you; which po&s;&s;ibility now is de&s;troyed by Relation. Therefore another,</HI> &amp;c. Be&s;ides, if we do but con&s;ider, that every thing that precedes and follows <HI>Byb|lis</HI>'s wi&s;h, that her Brother had been more nobly de&s;cended, appears plainly to be &s;poke out of a furious de&s;ire of enjoying him; we. need make no doubt but that very wi&s;h too proceeds from the &s;ame de&s;ire.</P>
<PB N="24" REF="19">
<Q><BIBL><HI>P.</HI> 7.</BIBL> To his &s;weet Lips as to its Heaven, <HI>&amp;c.</HI></Q>
<P>This is not the thought of <HI>Ovid.</HI> Mr. <HI>Sands</HI> has touch'd upon it, but very faintly. Mr. <HI>Oldham</HI> has kept wide of it. But becau&s;e no thought that can ever be &s;ub&s;tituted, can make amends for that of the original, I think my &s;elf obliged to do <HI>Ovid</HI> that Ju&s;tice as to in&s;ert it here. The <HI>Latin</HI> is thus then.
<Q><L>Aut no&s;tro vetitus de corde fugabitur ardor,</L>
<L>Aut hoc &s;i nequeo, peream precor ip&s;a, toro&abque;</L>
<L>Mortua componar; po&s;itae&abque; det o&s;cula frater.</L></Q> That is to &s;ay, <HI>Either I will expel this ince&s;tuous Love from my Brea&s;t, or dye in the attempt, and be laid out on the mournful Her&s;e.</HI> One would have thought that there had been an end of her and her Pa&s;&s;ion, when by an admirable and &s;urprizing return of it, &s;he immediately adds, <HI>po&s;itae&abque; det o&s;cula Frater. Let my Bro|ther embrace me as Flie &s;en&s;le&s;s there.</HI> So that here &s;he &s;eems to make provi&s;ion for her Pa&s;&s;ion, again&s;t a time when it can be no more, to anticipate the &s;atisfaction of her Brother's embracing her in the moment in which &s;he cannot be &s;en&s;ible of it, and, by imagination in the &s;ame &s;entence, to extend her love beyond that death by which &s;he propounds to end it. This is indeed livelily to paint the extream di&s;order of a violent and irregular Pa&s;&s;ion. But what Hand mu&s;t give us a copy of &s;o divine an original? Who must not de&s;pair of imita|ting &s;ucce&s;sfully the wonderful celerity of this incomparable turn?</P>
<Q><BIBL><HI>P.</HI> 12</BIBL>
<L>All Lets t'enjoyment, <HI>&amp;c. The</HI> Latin <HI>is,</HI></L>
<L>Nec nos aut durus Pater aut reverentia famae</L>
<L>Aut Timor impediet.</L></Q>
<P><HI>Mr.</HI> Oldham <HI>has render'd it thus.</HI>
<PB N="25" REF="19">
<Q><L>Let neither Awe of Fathers Frowns, nor Shame</L>
<L>For ought that can be told by blabbing Fame,</L>
<L>Nor any Gha&s;tlier fantom Fear can frame</L>
<L>Frighten or &s;top us, in the way to Bli&s;s.</L></Q></P>
<P>So that he makes <HI>Byblis</HI> &s;tart &s;everal difficulties enough to frighten her Brother, if he were inclin'd to complyance, and then exhorts him to go on in &s;pight of them. Whereas the de&s;ign of <HI>Ovid,</HI> is to make her an&s;wer &s;uch Objections as may probably be made by <HI>Caunus.</HI> The things that can chiefly be objected in &s;uch a ca&s;e are two, <HI>viz.</HI> The Rigor of Parents, and Apprehen&s;ion of Infamy. Now neither of the&s;e have rea&s;on to frighten us. For &s;ays &s;he, <HI>Dulcia fraterno &s;ub nomine furta tegemus.</HI> That is, we &s;hall conceal our ince&s;tuous Love under the di&s;gui&s;e of fraternal Affection, and tho we appear ne|ver &s;o fond to our Parents, and the re&s;t of the World, they will be ra|ther apt to extol our Piety, than to arraign our Ince&s;t. But this Ver&s;e, <HI>Dulcia, &amp;c.</HI> which <HI>Byblis</HI> &s;peaks as a rea&s;on for what pre|ceded it, looks in Mr. <HI>Oldham</HI> like the Introduction of a new Propo|&s;ition.</P>
<Q><BIBL><HI>P.</HI> 19</BIBL>
<L>Come he mu&s;t yet be mine, <HI>&amp;c.</HI></L></Q>
<P><HI>The</HI> Latin <HI>is.</HI></P>
<Q><L>Vincetur: repetendus erit, nec taedia coepti</L>
<L>Ulla mei capiam, dum &s;piritus i&s;te manebit.</L></Q>
<P><HI>Mr.</HI> Oldham <HI>has rendered it thus.</HI>
<Q><L>Alive I'll pray, till Breath in Prayers be lo&s;t,</L>
<L>And after come a kind be&s;eeching Gho&s;t.</L></Q></P>
<P>Where he pu&s;hes <HI>Ovid</HI>'s thought a little too far, and indeed be|yond the bounds of good &s;en&s;e. 'Tis true, I have met with &s;ome Gen|tlemen, who admire this pa&s;&s;age very much, as &s;omething for&s;ooth
<PB N="26" REF="20">very &s;oft, But like will to like, &s;ays the Proverb. For indeed tho&s;e Gentlemen may be &s;aid to be &s;oft with a vengeance, I would fain ask them one que&s;tion. For what &s;hould this poor Gho&s;t come a begging? For the Charity of the Fle&s;h? That would be very plea&s;ant. And yet the Charity of the Fle&s;h is certainly the bu&s;ine&s;s in que&s;tion.</P>
<Q><BIBL><HI>P.</HI> 20.</BIBL>
<L>He'll think if thus, <HI>&amp;c.</HI></L></Q>
<P><HI>The</HI> Latin <HI>is.</HI></P>
<Q><L>Vel quia de&s;ierim, leviter volui&s;&s;e videbor.</L></Q>
<P><HI>Which Mr.</HI> Oldham <HI>renders thus.</HI>
<Q><L>Should I de&s;i&s;t, 'twill be believ'd that I,</L>
<L>By &s;lightly asking, taught him to deny.</L></Q></P>
<P>I wonder that a man of Mr. <HI>Oldham's</HI> Sen&s;e and Learning &s;hould mi&s;take <HI>leviter volui&s;&s;e</HI> for &s;lightly asking. By which mi&s;take he has run him&s;elf upon two ab&s;urdities. For fir&s;t he puts a &s;entiment into the mouth of <HI>Byblis,</HI> that is altogether ba&s;e, and unworthy of a Wo|man of Honor, as if &s;he were afraid of not being thought impudent enough, or of not being thought in good earne&s;t. Secondly, he makes her bring that as an argument for per&s;isting in her de&s;ign, which is directly conclu&s;ive of the contrary. For what &s;he &s;ays, in Pro&s;e, and in plain <HI>Engli&s;h,</HI> is this. <HI>If I &s;hould now conquer this Pa&s;&s;ion, and grow once more the vertuous</HI> Byblis, <HI>I am afraid the World, who may come to know what a civil Reque&s;t I made to my Bro|ther, and afterwards took the very fir&s;t Denial, I am afraid this ill-natur'd World will believe that I was but in je&s;t.</HI> Truly a very plea&s;ant and very rea&s;onable Fear. But what does &s;he call &s;lightly asking? The &s;ending &s;uch a Letter as hers? For my part I know but one way &s;he had to put the bu&s;ine&s;s more home to him. This cannot be the &s;en&s;e of <HI>Ovid.</HI> For tho. <HI>Ovid</HI> is not the ju&s;te&s;t man in the World in his thinking, (for ju&s;tne&s;s is not his Talent) yet he &s;eldom thinks &s;o prepo&s;terou&s;ly, nor could Mr. <HI>Oldham</HI> have done it, if he had not writ this in a hurry. By <HI>leviter volui&s;&s;e</HI> then is meant not
<PB N="27" REF="20">&s;lightly to have asked, but lightly to have inclin'd my Will; and then the meaning has not only &s;omething very &s;en&s;ible in it, but very extra|ordinary and very noble. For thus <HI>Byblis</HI> is made to a&s;&s;ert her Honor, by her very per&s;i&s;ting in a mo&s;t execrable crime, for now the &s;en&s;e runs thus. If I &s;hould now upon this fir&s;t Repul&s;e give over, then men will rea&s;onably conclude, that &s;ince it was in my power &s;o &s;oon to de&s;i&s;t, it was in my power not to have given way to this Pa&s;&s;ion at fir&s;t; and that &s;he who could &s;o ea&s;ily &s;top its progre&s;s, might much more ea&s;ily have prevented its very beginning; and con|&s;equently the advances which I have made to my Brother, will be imputed rather to my natural inclination to &s;uch horrible Wick|edne&s;s, or &s;ome &s;trange and ba&s;e infirmity in me, than the force of a Pa&s;&s;ion inflicted by an offended God. But if after having &s;hown &s;o much Remor&s;e, and &s;o much Reluctancy, I &s;till per&s;i&s;t, notwith&s;tanding that Remor&s;e, notwith&s;tanding that Reluctancy, nay notwith&s;tanding De&s;pair; why then my Brother and all the World mu&s;t acknowledge that <HI>Byblis</HI> is not to blame; but that &s;ince &s;he does what doing &s;he di&s;approves, and &s;ollicits a Vice, the very thought of which &s;trikes her with Horror, it is demon|&s;trably evident that her Pa&s;&s;ion is &s;upernatural; and is not actu|ated by her own Will, but &s;ome more &s;ublime, &s;ome eternal prin|ciple which Mortals in vain re&s;i&s;t.</P>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
</BACK>
</TEXT>
</EEBO>
</ETS>
