Classic Poem

To Ida 's Top successful Juno flies:
Great Jove surveys her with desiring Eyes:
The God, whose Light'ning sets the Heav'ns on fire,
Thro' all his Bosom feels the fierce Desire;
Fierce as when first by stealth he seiz'd her Charms,
Mix'd with her Soul, and melted in her Arms.
Fix'd on her Eyes he fed his eager Look,
Then press'd her Hand, and thus with Transport spoke.
Why comes my Goddess from th' aethereal Sky,
And not her Steeds and flaming Chariot nigh?
Then she — I haste to those remote Abodes,
Where the great Parents of the deathless Gods,
The rev'rend Ocean and grey Tethys reign,
On the last Limits of the Land and Main.
I visit these, to whose indulgent Cares
I owe the nursing of my tender Years.
For Strife, I hear, has made that Union cease
Which held so long this ancient Pair in Peace.
The Steeds, prepar'd my Chariot to convey
O'er Earth and Seas, and thro' th' airial way,
Wait under Ide : Of thy superior Pow'r
To ask Consent, I leave th' Olympian Bow'r;
Nor seek, unknown to thee, the sacred Cells
Deep under Seas, where hoary Ocean dwells.
For that (said Jove ) suffice another Day;
But eager Love denies the least Delay.
Let softer Cares the present Hour employ
And by these Moments sacred all to Joy.
Ne'er did my Soul so strong a Passion prove,
Or for an earthly, or a heav'nly Love:
Not when I press'd Ixion 's matchless Dame,
Whence rose Perithous like the Gods in Fame.
Not when fair Danai felt the Show'r of Gold
Stream into Life, whence Perseus brave and bold.
Not thus I burn'd for either Theban Dame,
( Bacchus from this, from that Alcides came)
Not Phaenix ' Daughter, beautiful and young,
Whence godlike Rhadamanth and Minos sprung.
Not thus I burn'd for fair Latona 's Face,
Nor comelier Ceres ' more majestic Grace.
Not thus ev'n for thy self I felt Desire,
As now my Veins receive the pleasing Fire.
He spoke; the Goddess with the charming Eyes
Glows with celestial Red, and thus replies.
Is this a Scene for Love? On Ida 's Height,
Expos'd to mortal, and immortal Sight;
Our joys prophan'd by each familiar Eye;
The Sport of Heav'n, and Fable of the Sky!
How shall I e'er review the blest Abodes,
Or mix among the Senate of the Gods?
Shall I not think, that, with disorder'd Charms,
All Heav'n beholds me recent from thy Arms?
With Skill divine has Vulcan form'd thy Bow'r,
Sacred to Love and to the genial Hour;
If such thy Will, to that Recess retire,
And secret there indulge thy soft Desire.
She ceas'd, and smiling with superior Love,
Thus answer'd mild the Cloud-compelling Jove .
Nor God, nor Mortal shall our Joys behold,
Shaded with Clouds, and circumfus'd in Gold,
Not ev'n the Sun, who darts thro' Heav'n his Rays,
And whose broad Eye th' extended Earth surveys.
Gazing he spoke, and kindling at the view,
His eager Arms around the Goddess threw.
Glad Earth perceives, and from her Bosom pours
Unbidden Herbs, and voluntary Flow'rs;
Thick new-born Vi'lets a soft Carpet spread,
And clust'ring Lotos swell'd the rising Bed,
And sudden Hyacinths the Turf bestrow,
And flamy Crocus made the Mountain glow.
There golden Clouds conceal the heav'nly Pair,
Steep'd in soft Joys, and circumfus'd with Air;
Celestial Dews, descending o'er the Ground,
Perfume the Mount, and breathe Ambrosia round.
At length with Love and Sleep's soft Pow'r opprest,
The panting Thund'rer nods, and sinks to Rest.