Classic Poem

The screamings of th'ill-omen'd jay,
Or pregnant bitch, or fox attend,
Or tauny wolf in quest of prey,
All wicked wretches on their way,
And to their journey's end:
Or let a serpent drive them back,
The road swift crossing like a dart,
And terrify the stumbling hack —
For thee I dread no such attack;
But with an augur's art,
In early pray'r I will apply,
That some good-natur'd crow may speed,
And leave the east before the cry
Of birds that bode a stormy sky,
And to their lakes proceed.
O Galatea! be thou blest,
Where'er you choose to take your rout,
And keep my mem'ry in your breast;
Nor raven nor the pye molest
Your course, as you set out.
But look, as he's in haste to set,
How prone Orion moves the seas,
I well know Adria's gloomy threat,
And how much mischief's to be met
From yonder whit'ning breeze.
May wives and children of our foes
The rising goat's alarm partake;
To the black surge themselves expose,
Which, roaring to the blast that blows,
Makes all the land to quake.
Thus did Europa trust, of yore,
To that false bull her snowy limbs,
And, trembling at her boldness, bore
Her midmost course, where, far from shore,
Full many a monster swims.
She, who of late the meadows knew,
Fair student of the flow'ry bloom,
Wove chaplets to the wood-nymphs due —
Nought now but stars and waves could view,
All in the glimm'ring gloom.
And when she was arriv'd at Crete,
So famous for its hundred towns,
" O father! lost and indiscreet,
The daughter's duty to defeat,"
She cry'd, in wrath, and frowns.
" Whence? Whither am I come? — Too light
A punishment one death would be —
Am I awake, and wail of right?
Or is't a vision of the night,
And I from baseness free?
A vision from the iv'ry gate,
Which brings false fancies to the head —
Say, was it then a better fate
Through the long seas to sail — or wait
Where new-blown flow'rs are spread?
O if I had th'audacious steer
My indignation hates and scorns,
I'd kill him with a falchion here,
And, though he was of late so dear,
Would strive to break his horns.
Shameless I left my father's place,
Shameless I wait the doom of hell —
Ye gods! if any hear my case —
O that I naked, in disgrace,
Might roam 'mongst lions fell!
Before a virulent decay
Shall feed upon my blooming cheek,
While yet there's moisture in my clay,
To be the tyger's tender prey,
With all my charms, I seek.
Ah base! thy father to offend,
Whose passion urges thee to die;
Well did thy girdle thee attend —
Thyself upon this ash suspend,
And with his will comply.
Of if, upon the rocks to split,
Acute with death, you are inclin'd;
To the fierce storm yourself submit —
Unless, perhaps, you should think fit
To ply a task injoin'd,
And live a tyrant's harlot vile,
And bear his queen's imperious tongue — "
Thus, as she urg'd her plaintive stile,
Came Venus with perfidious smile,
And boy with bow unstrung —
Anon, when she had jeer'd enough,
She said, " forbear your wrath and heat,
Since with his horns, though ne'er so tough,
This bull shall meet a full rebuff,
When you with him shall treat.
Do you not know your fame and fort,
As matchless Jove's distinguish'd dame —
Learn your high dignity at court —
And let the quarter'd world support
Your story and your name."