Classic Poem

'Twas now the mid of Night, when Slumbers close
Our Eyes, and sooth our Cares with soft Repose;
But no Repose cou'd wretched Myrrha find,
Her Body rouling, as she rould her Mind:
Mad with Desire, she ruminates her Sin,
And wishes all her Wishes o'er again:
Now she despairs, and now resolves to try;
Wou'd not, and wou'd again, she knows not why;
Stops, and returns, makes and retracts the Vow;
Fain wou'd begin, but understands not how.
As when a Pine is hew'd upon the Plains,
And the last mortal Stroke alone remains,
Lab'ring in Pangs of Death, and threatning all,
This way, and that she nods, consid'ring where to fall:
So Myrrha 's Mind, impell'd on either Side,
Takes ev'ry Bent, but cannot long abide:
Irresolute on which she shou'd relie,
At last unfix'd in all, is only fix'd to die;
On that sad Thought she rests, resolv'd on Death,
She rises, and prepares to choak her Breath:
Then while about the Beam her Zone she ties,
Dear Cinyras , farewell, she softly cries;
For thee I die, and only wish to be
Not hated, when thou know'st I die for thee:
Pardon the Crime, in pity to the Cause:
This said, about her Neck the Noose she draws.
The Nurse, who lay without, her faithful Guard,
Though not the Words, the Murmurs overheard,
And Sighs, and hollow Sounds: Surpriz'd with Fright,
She starts, and leaves her Bed, and springs a Light;
Unlocks the Door, and entring out of Breath,
The Dying saw, and Instruments of Death;
She shrieks, she cuts the Zone, with trembling haste,
And in her Arms, her fainting Charge embrac'd:
...
Much she reproach'd, and many Things she said,
To cure the Madness of th'unhappy Maid:
In vain: For Myrrha stood convict of Ill;
Her Reason vanquish'd, but unchang'd her Will:
Perverse of Mind, unable to reply;
She stood resolv'd or to possess, or die.
At length the Fondness of a Nurse prevail'd
Against her better Sense, and Vertue fail'd:
Enjoy, my Child, since such is thy Desire,
Thy Love, she said; she durst not say, thy Sire,
Live, though unhappy, live on any Terms:
Then with a second Oath her Faith confirms.
...
So various, so discordant is the Mind,
That in our Will, a diff'rent Will we find.
Ill she presag'd, and yet pursu'd her Lust;
For guilty Pleasures give a double Gust.
'Twas Depth of Night: Arctophylax had driv'n
His lazy Wain half round the Northern Heav'n;
When Myrrha hasten'd to the Crime desir'd,
The Moon beheld her first, and first retir'd:
The Stars amaz'd, ran backward from the Sight,
And (shrunk within their Sockets) lost their Light.
Icarius first withdraws his holy Flame:
The Virgin Sign, in Heav'n the second Name,
Slides down the Belt, and from her Station flies,
And Night with Sable Clouds involves the Skies.
Bold Myrrha still pursues her black Intent;
She stumbl'd thrice, (an Omen of th'Event;)
Thrice shriek'd the Fun'ral Owl, yet on she went,
Secure of Shame, because secure of Sight;
Ev'n bashful Sins are impudent by Night.
Link'd Hand in Hand, th'Accomplice, and the Dame,
Their Way exploring, to the Chamber came;
The Door was ope, they blindly grope their Way,
Where dark in Bed th'expecting Monarch lay:
Thus far her Courage held, but here forsakes;
Her faint Knees knock at ev'ry Step she makes.
The nearer to her Crime, the more within
She feels Remorse, and Horrour of her Sin;
Repents too late her criminal Desire,
And wishes, that unknown she cou'd retire.
Her, lingring thus, the Nurse (who fear'd Delay
The fatal Secret might at length betray)
Pull'd forward, to compleat the Work begun,
And said to Cinyras , Receive thy own:
Thus saying, she deliver'd Kind to Kind,
Accurs'd, and their devoted Bodies join'd.
The Sire, unknowing of the Crime, admits
His Bowels, and profanes the hallow'd Sheets;
He found she trembl'd, but believ'd she strove
With Maiden-Modesty, against her Love,
And sought with flatt'ring Words vain Fancies to remove.
Perhaps he said, My Daughter, cease thy Fears,
(Because the Title suited with her Years;)
And Father, she might whisper him agen,
That Names might not be wanting to the Sin.
Full of her Sire, she left th'incestuous Bed,
And carry'd in her Womb the Crime she bred:
Another, and another Night she came;
For frequent Sin had left no Sense of Shame:
Till Cinyras desir'd to see her Face,
Whose Body he had held in close Embrace,
And brought a Taper; the Revealer, Light,
Expos'd both Crime, and Criminal to Sight:
Grief, Rage, Amazement, cou'd no Speech afford,
But from the Sheath he drew th'avenging Sword;
The Guilty fled: The Benefit of Night,
That favour'd first the Sin, secur'd the Flight.