Ovid's epistles translated by several hands.

ARIADNE TO THESEUS.

The ARGUMENT.

Minos, King of Creet, by a sharp Warr, compell'd the Athenians, (who had treacherously slain his Son Androgeos,) to send yearly seaven young men, and as many Virgins to be devour'd by the Minotaure; a Monster begotten by a Bull upon his wife Pasiphae, while he was engaged in that Warr. The Chance at last fell up on Theseus to be sent among those youths; who, by the Instructions of Ariadne, escaped out of the Labyrinth, after he had kill'd the Minotaure, and, together with her, fled to the Isle of Naxos. But, being commanded by Bacchus, he forsook her, while she slept. When she awaked and found herself deserted, she writes this Letter.

THan savage Beasts more fierce, more to be feard; Expos'd by Thee, by Them I yet am spar'd!

These Lines from that unhappy Shore I write Where you forsook me in your faithless flight; And the most tender Lover did betray, While lock'd in sleep, and in your Arms she lay. When Morning-dew on all the Fields did fall, And Birds with early Songs for day did call; Then I, half sleeping, stretch'd me tow'rds your place, And sought to press you with a new embrace: Oft sought to press you close, but still in vain; My folding Arms came empty back again. Startled, I rose, and found that you were gone, Then on my widow'd Bed fell raging down: Beat the fond Breast, where, spight of me, you dwell, And tore that hair, wh••ch you once lik'd so well. ••y the Moons light I the wide Shore did view, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••ll was Desart, and no sight of you.

Then every way, with Loves mad hast I fly, But ill my feet with my desires comply; Weary they sink in the deep yielding Sands, Refusing to obey such wild Commands. To all the shore of Theseus I complain, The Hills and Rocks send back that Name again. Oft they repeat aloud the mournful noise, And kindly aid a hoarse and dying voice. Tho faint yet still impatient, next I try To climb a rough steep Mountain which was nigh: (My furious Love unusual strength supply'd:) From thence, casting my eyes on every ••ide, ••ar off the flying Vessel I espy'd. ••n your swell'd Sayls the wanton winds did play; (They Court you since they see you false as they.) •• saw, or fancy'd that I saw you there, And my chill Veins froze up with cold despair.

Thus did I languish, till returning Rage In new extreams did my fir'd Soul engage. Theseus, I cry, perfidious Theseus stay! (But you are deaf, deaf as the Winds, or Sea!) Stay your false flight, and let your Vessel bear Hence the whole number which she landed here! In loud and doleful shrieks I tell the rest, And with fresh Fury wound my hated Breast. Then all my shining Ornaments I tear, And with stretch'd Arms wave them in open Air, That you might see her whom you could not hear. But when out of my sight the Vessel flew, And the Horizon shut me from the view; From my sad eyes, what floods of tears did fall! (Till then Rage would not let me weep at all.) Still let them weep, for, loosing sight of you, 'Tis the whole business which they ought to do.

Like Bacchus raving Priests sometimes I go: With such wild hast, with hair dishevel'd so. Then on some craggy Rock sit silent down, As cold, unmov'd, and sensless as the Stone. To our once happy Bed I often fly: (No more the place of mutual Love and Joy.) See where my much lov'd Theseus once was laid, And kiss the print which his dear Body made. Here we both lay, I cry, false Bed restore My Theseus, kind and faithful as before, I brought him here, here lost him while I slept. How well, false Bed, you have my Lover k••pt! Alone and helpless in this Desert place The steps of Man, or Beast I cannot trace. On every side the foaming Billows beat, But no kind Ship does offer a retreat. And should the Gods send me some lucky Sail, ••alm S••as, good Pilots, and a prosperous Gale▪

Yet then my Native Soil I durst not see, But a sad Exile must for ever be. From all ••rete hundred Cities I am curst: From that fam'd Isle where Infant Iove was nurst. Crete I betray'd for you, and, what's more dear, Betray'd my Father, who that Crown does wear: When to your hands the fatal Clew I gave, Which through the winding Lab'rinth led you safe. Then how you lov'd, how eagerly embrac'd, How o••t you swore, by all your dangers past, That with my life your love should ever last! Ah, perjur'd Theseus, I thy love survive, If one forsaken and expos'd does live. Had you slain me, as you my Brother slew, You'ad then absolv'd your self from ev'ry Vow. Now both my present Grief denies me Rest, And all, that a wild Fancy can suggest 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••••ead••ul Ills to come, distracts my Br••ast.

Before my eyes a thousand deaths appear, I live, yet suffer all the deaths I fear. Sometimes I think that Lyons there do go, And scarce dare trust my sight that 'tis not so. ••magine that fierce Wolves are howling there, And at th' imagin'd Noise shrink up with fear. ••hen think what Monsters from the Sea may rise, Or fancy bloudy Swords before my eyes. But most I dread to be a Captive made, ••nd see these hands in servile works imploy'd. Unworthy my Extraction from a Line On one side Royal, and on both Divine: ••nd, (which my Indignation more would move,) ••nworthy her whom Theseus once did love. If tow'rds the Sea I look, or tow'rds the Land, ••bjects of horror still before me stand. or dare I look tow'rds Heaven, or hope to find ••••d from those Gods who chang'd my Theseus's mind.

If Beasts alone within this Island stay, Behold me left to them a helpless Prey! If Men dwell here, they must be Savage too, This Soyl, this Heaven made gentle Theseus so. Would Athens never had my Brother slain, Nor for his paid so many lives again. Would thy strong Arm had never given the wound, Which struck the doubtful Monster to the ground▪ Nor I had given the guiding Thred to Thee, Which, to my own destruction, set Thee free. Let the unknowing World thy Conquest praise, It does not Ariad••es wonder raise: So hard a Heart, unarm'd, might safely scorn The strength and sharpness of the Monsters horn 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Flint or Steel could be secure of wound, No room for fear could in that Breast be found. C••rst be the sleep which seal'd these eyes so fast 〈◊〉〈◊〉, that begun, it did not ever last!

For ever curst be that officious Wind, Which fill'd thy Sayls, and in my ruin joyn'd! Curst hand which me, and which my Brother kill'd! (With what Misfortunes our sad House 't has fill'd!) And curst the Tongue, which, with soft words, betray'd, And empty Vows, a poor believing Maid! Sleep, and the Winds against me had combin'd In vain, if perjur'd Theseus had not joyn'd. Poor Ariadne, thou must perish here, Breath out thy Soul in strange and hated Air, Nor see thy pittying Mother shed one Tear: Want a kind hand which thy fix'd eyes may close, And thy stiff Limbs may decently compose. Thy Carcass to the Birds must be a Prey. Thus Theseus all thy Kindness does repay!

Mean while to Athens your swift Ship does run; There tell the wondring Crowd what you have done. How the mix'd Prodigy you did subdue, The Beast and Man how with one stroke you slew. Describe the Labyrinth, and how, taught by me, You scap'd from all those perplext Mazes free. Tell, in return, what generous things you've done: Such Gratitude will all your Triumphs Crown! Sprung sure from Rocks, and not of human Race! Thy Cruelty does thy great Line disgrace. Yet couldst thou see, as barbarous as thou art, These dismal looks, sure they would touch thy heart. You cannot see, yet think you saw me now Fix'd to some Rock, as if I there did grow, And trembling at the Waves which roul below. Look on my torn, and my disordred hairs, Look on my Rob•• wet through with show'rs of tears.

With the cold blasts see my wole body shakes, And my numm'd hand unequal Letters makes. I do not urge my hated Merit now, But yield, this once, that you do nothing ow. I neither sav'd your Life, nor set you free; Yet therefore must you force this death on Me? Ah! see this wounded Breast worn out with sighs, And these faint Arms stretch'd to the seas & ski••s. See these few hairs yet spar'd by Grief and Rage, Some Pitty let these flowing Tears engage. Turn back, and, if I'me dead when you return, Yet lay my Ashes in their peaceful Urn.