Ovid's epistles translated by several hands.

DEIANIRA TO HERCULES.

The ARGUMENT.

Deianira having heard that Hercules was fallen in Love with Iole a Captive; and at the same time that he was dying by a poisoned Shirt she had presented him with, and had been told would recover a lost affection: betwixt disdain and anger for the first, and grief and despair for the latter, she writes the follow∣ing Lines to her Husband.

I'Me pleas'd with the success your Valour gave▪ But grieve the Victor is his Captives slave. This unexpected News soon flew to me, And with your former Life does ill agree▪

Continual Action, nor yet Iuno's Hate, Ne're hurt whom Iole does Captivate▪ Eurystheus this, this did Ioves Wife design, Laugh at your weakness, and these tears of mine; But Iupiter hop'd better things, when he To make this Hero, made one night of three. Venus has hurt you more by her soft Charms, Than angry Iuno that Employs your Arms; She by depressing you, rais'd you the more, The other treads on you, whom you adore. You'vefreed the World from troublers of mankind, All things submit to your Heroick mind: You make the Seas secure, the Earth have rest, Your mighty Name fills both the East and West. Heaven, that must bear you, You did bear before▪ When weary Atlas did your aid Implore. Yet for all this, the greater is your shame, If with mean Acts you stain your Glorious Name.

You kill'd two Serpents with your Infant hand, Which then deserv'd Ioves Scepterto Command. Your last deeds differ from your first success, The Infant makes the Man appear the less. No Savage Beasts, nor feircer Enemies, Cou'd Conquer him, whom Love does now surprize. Some think my Marriage a great Happiness, Being Ioves Daughter, Wife of Hercules; But as Extreams do very ill agree, The Greatness of my Husband lessens me: This seeming Honour gives a mortal wound: Amongst our Equalls Happiness is found: At home in quiet they their Lives enjoy; Tumults, and Wars, do all his hours employ: This Absence makes me so unfortunate, I buy your Glory at too dear a rate. I weary Heaven with Vows and Sacrifice, Least you should fall by Beasts, or Enemies.

When you assault a Lyon, or Wild Boar, You hazard much, but I still hazard more. Srange Dreams and Visions set before mine Eyes, The dangers that attend your Victories. Unhappy I to vain Reports give Ear, Then vainly hope, and then as vainly fear. Your absent Mother blushes she pleas'd Iove, Amphitryos absent, and the Son you love. I see Erystheus has contriv'd your Fate, And will make use of Iuno's restless hat••. This I could bear, did you love none but me, But you are Amorous of all you see. Yet Omph••le does now enrage me more, Than all the Beauties you admir'd before. Meanders Streams have seen those shoulders wear Rich Chains, that Heav'n as a small weight did bear.

But were you not ashamed to b••hold Those Arms weigh'd down with Jewels, and with Gold, That made the firce Nemean Lyon die, And wore his Skin to shew the Victory? When like a Woman you did dress your hair, Lawrel had been for you a fitter wear. As Wanton Maids, you thought it was no shame To wear a Sash to please your haughty Dame. Fierce D••omedes was not in your mind, That fed his bloody Horses with mankind: Did but Busiris see this strange disguise, The conquer'd would the Conquerour despise. Antëus would retreive his Captive State, And scorn a Victor so Effeminate. Among the Grecian Virgins you sit down, And spin, and tremble at a Womans ••rown; A Distaffe, not a Scepter fills that Hand, That Conquer'd all things, and did all Command.

Then in her presence you do trembling stand, And fear a blow as death, from her fair hand: And to regai•• her Favour you reveal Those glorioous Actions you should then conceal. How you that strange and fruitful Serpent slew, That by his wounds more fierce & stronger grew. How when you fought, you never lost the field, But made great Kings and cruel Monsters yield. And can you boast or think of things so great, Now you wear Silks, and are with Jewels set? These Actions and that Garb do disagree, So soft a dress do's give your tongue the lie. Your Mistress too puts on your Conqu'ring Arms, And makes you stoop to her more pow'rful Charms. She wears your Robes to shew her Victory, And is, what you once thought your self to be. Your glorious Conquest, and Illustrious Fame, Give her Renown, but you Eternal Shame.

All is to her, by whom you'r conquer'd, due; Go now and brag of what remains to you. Is't not a shame, that her soft Arms should bear The Lyons rugged Skin you once did wear? These Spoils are not the Lyons but your own, The Beast you Conquer'd, you she Overcome. She takes your Club up in her feeble hand, And in her Glass she learns how to Command. All this I heard: yet I could not believe The sad report, which causes me to griev•• Your Iole is brought before my face, I must be Witness of my own disgrace. Whil'st I reflect on my unhappy Fate, She makes her Entry in the Town in State. Not as a Captive with her hair unbound, Nor her dejected Eyes ••ixt on the Ground; But cover'd o're with Jewels, and with Gold, As Phrygia once did Hercules behold;

And salutes all with as much Majesty, As if her Father had the Victory. Perhaps to leave me is design'd by you, True to your Mistress, to your Wife untrue. You'l be Divorc't from me, and Marry her, The Conquer'd must obey the Conquerour. This fear torments me more than all the rest, And as a Dagger, wounds my troubled Breast. •• kn••w the time when you did love me more, Than any she whom you do now adore. But oh! as I am writing, the news flies, That by a poison'd Shirt my Husband dies. What have I done, whither has Love drove me? Is Love the Authour of such crueltie? Shall my dear Hercules endure this pain, And I, the unhappy Cause, alive remain? My Title to him, by my Death I'le prove, And surely Death's an Argument of Love.

Meleager will a Sister find in me: Shall Deianira be afraid to die? Unhappy House! Usurpers fill the Throne, Whil'st the true Soveraign is esteem'd by none. One Brother wasts his Life in foreign Lands, The other perish'd by his Mothers hands, Who on her self reveng'd the Crime: Then why Should Deianira be afraid to die? Only this thing I beg with my last breath, Not to believe that I design'd your death. As soon as you struck Nessus with your Dart, His blood, he said, would Charm a straying heart. In it I dipt the Shirt, 'twas but to try: O Deianira make, make hast to die▪ Adieu my Father, Sister too adieu! Adieu my Country, and my Brother too! Farewel this light, the last that I shall see, Hyllus farewel, my Dear I come to Thee.