Ovid's epistles translated by several hands.

PHAEDRA TO HIPPOLYTUS.

BY M^r. OTWAY.

The ARGUMENT.

Theseus, the Son of Aegeus, having slain the Mi∣notaur, promised to Ariadne the Daughter of Minos and Pasiphäe, for the assistance which she gave him, to carry her home with him, and make her his Wife: so together with her Sister Phaedra, they went on Board and sail'd to Chi∣os, where being warn'd by Bacchus, he left Ariadne, and Married her Sister Phaedra, who afterwards in Theseus her Husbands Absence, fell in Love with Hippolytus her Son in Law, who had Vow'd Caelibacy, and was a Hunter: wherefore since she could not conveniently otherwise; she chose by this Epistle to give him an Account of her Passion.

IF Thou'rt unkind, I ne're shall health Enjoy; Yet much I wish to thee, my Lovely Boy:

Read this and reading how my soul is seis'd, Rather than not be with my ruin pleas'd: Thus secrets safe to farthest Shoars may move; By Letters Foes converse and learn to Love. Thrice my sad tale, as I to tell it try'd, Upon my faultring Tongue abortive dy'd: Long shame prevail'd, nor could be conquer'd quite, But what I blusht to speak, Love made me write. 'Tis dang'rous to resist the pow'r of Love, The Gods obey him, and he's King above: He clear'd the doubts that did my mind confound, And promis'd me to bring Thee hither bound: Oh may he come, and in that breast of thine Fix a kind Dart, and make it flame like mine! Yet of my Wedlock Vows I'le loose no care, Search back through all my fame, Thoul't find it fair▪ But Love long breeding, to worst pain does turn; Outward unharm'd, within, within I burn!

As the Young Bull or Courser yet untam'd, When Yok't or Bridl'd first, are pinch't & maim'd; So my unpractic't heart in Love can find No rest, th' unwonted weight so toyls my mind. When young, loves pangs by Arts we may remove, But in our riper years with rage we Love. To thee I yield then all my dear Renown, And prithee let's together be undone. Who would not pluck the new blown blushing Rose, Or the ripe Fruit that Courts him as it grows? But if my Vertue hitherto has gain'd Esteem for spotless, shall it now be stain'd? Oh in thy Love I shall no hazard run; 'Tis not a sin, but when 'tis coursely done. And now should Iuno yield her Iove to me, I'd quit that Iove, Hippolytus, for Thee: Believe me too with strange desires I change, Amongst Wild Beasts I long with Thee to range,

To thy Delights and Delia I Encline, Make her my Goddess too, because she's thine: I long to know the Woods, to drive the Deer, And or'e the Mountains tops my Hounds to chear, Shaking my Dart, then, the Chase ended, lie Stretcht on the grass, & would'st not Thou be by? O••t in light Chariots I with pleasure ride, And love my self the furious Steeds to guide. Now like a Bacchanal more wild I stray, Or Old Cybele's Priests, as mad as They When under Ida's Hill They Offrings pay: Ev'n mad as those the Deities of Night And Water, Fauns and Dryards do afright: But still each little Interval I gain, Easily find 'tis Love breeds all my pain: Sure on our Race Love like a Fate does fall, And Venus will have Tribute of us all.

Iove lov'd Europa, whence my Father came, And to a Bull transform'd, Enjoy'd the Dame: She, like my Mother, languisht to obtain, And fill'd her Womb with shame as well as pain: The faithless Theseus by my Sisters Aid The Monster slew, and a safe Conquest made: Now in that Family my right to save, I am at last on the same tearms a slave: 'Twas fatal to my Sister and to me, She lov'd thy Father, but my choice was thee. Let Monuments of Triumph then be shown For two unhappy Nymphs by you undone. When first our Vows were at Eleusis pay'd, Would I had in a Cretan Grave been laid; 'Twas there Thou didst a perfect Conquest gain, Whilst Loves fierce Feavor rag'd in ev'ry vein; White was thy Robe, a Garland deck't thy Head, A modest blush thy comely face orespread,

That face which may be terrible in Arms, But Graceful seem'd to me, and full of Charms: I Love the man whose fashion's least his care, And hate my Sexes Coxcombs fine and fair; For whil'st thus plain thy careless Locks let fly, Th' unpolish't form is Beauty in my Eye: If thou but ride, or shake the trembling Dart, I fix my Eyes, and wonder at thy Art: To see thee poise the Iav'lin, moves delight, And all thou do'st is lovely in my sight: But to the Woods thy cruelty resign, Nor treat it with so poor a life as mine: Must cold Diana be ador'd alone? Must she have all thy Vows, and Venus none? That pleasure palls if 'tis Enjoy'd too long, Love makes the weary firm, the feeble strong. For Cyntbia's sake unbend and ease thy Bow; Else to thy Arm 'twill weak and useless grow.

Famous was Cephalus in Wood and Plain, And by him many a Boar and Pard was slain, Yet to Aurora's Love he did encline; Who wisely left Old Age for Youth like Thine. Under the spreading shades her Am'rous Boy The fair Adonis Venus could enjoy, Atlanta's Love too Meleager sought, And to her Tribute paid of all he caught; Be Thou and I the next blest Sylvan pair: Where Love's a Stranger Woods but Desarts are. With Thee through dang'rous ways unknown before, I'le rove and fearless face the dreadful Boar. Between two Seas a little Isthmus lies, Where on each side the beating Billows rise, There in Trazena I thy Love will meet, More blest and pleas'd than in my Native Crete.

As we could wish, Old Theseus is away At Thessaly, where alwaies let him stay With his Perithöus, whom well I see Prefer'd above Hippolytus or me. Nor has he only thus exprest his hate; We both have suffer'd wrongs of mighty weight: My Brother first he cruelly did slay ••hen from my Sister falsely ran away; And left expos'd to ev'ry Beast a prey. A Warlike Queen to thee thy Being gave, A Mother worthy of a Son so brave, From cruel Theseus yet her death did find, Nor though she gave him Thee, could make him kind. Unwedded too he murthered her in spight, To Bastardize and Rob thee of thy Right: And if to wrong thee more, two Sons Iv'e brought, Believe it his, and none of Phaedra's fault:

Rather thou fairest Thing the Earth contains, I wish at first 'had dy'd of Mothers pains: How canst thou rev'rence then thy Fathers Bed, From which himself so Abjectly is fled? The thought afrights not me, but me enflames; Mother and son are notions, very Names Of worn out Piety, in fashion Then When Old dull Saturn Rul'd the Race of men: But braver Iove taught pleasure was no sin, And with his Sister did himself begin. Nearness of Blood, and Kindred best we prove, When we express it in the closest Love. Nor need we fear our Fault should be reveal'd; 'Twill under near Relation be conceal'd, And all who hear our Loves, with praise shall Crown A Mothers kindness to a grateful Son.

No need at Midnight in the dark to stray, T'unlock the Gates, and cry, my Love, this way, No busie Spies our pleasures to betray. But in one house, as heretofore, we'l live, In publick, kisses take; in publick, give: Though in my Bed Thou'rt seen, 'twill gain Ap∣plause From all, whilst none have sense to ghess the Cause: Only make hast, and let this League be sign'd; So may my Tyrant Love to thee be kind. For this I am an humble Suppliant grown; Now where are all my boasts of Greatness gone? I swore I ne're would yield, resolv'd to ••ight, Deceiv'd by Love that's seldom in the right, Now on my own, I crawl to clasp thy knees; What's Decent no true Lover cares or sees: Shame, like a beaten Souldier, leaves the place, But Beauties blushes still are in my face.

For give this fond Confession which I make, And then some pity on my suffrings take. What though midst Seas my Fathers Empire lies? Though my Great Grandsire Thunder frō the skies? What though my Fathers Sire in Beams drest gay Drives round the burning Chariot of the day? Their Honour all in me to Love's a slave, Then though thou wilt not me, their Honour save: Ioves Famous Island Crete in Dow'r I'l bring, And there shall my Hippolytus be King: For Venus sake then hear and grant my pray'r, So may'st Thou never love a scornful fair; In Fields so may Diana grace Thee still, And every Wood afford thee Game to kill; So may the Mountain Gods and Satyrs all Be kind, so may the Boar before Thee fall, So may the water-Nymphs in heat of day, Though Thou their Sex despise, they thirst allay.

Millions of tears to these my prayrs I joyn, Which as Thou read'st with those dear eyes of Thine, Think that thou seest the streams that flow from mine.