Yet, oh ye Pow'rs! what Torture 'tis to part From one fo deeply rooted in my Heart! And with what wretched Profpe&t must I live? Take Courage, Heart! for cou'dft thou yet return, And in ignoble Paffions meanly burn,

Yet fhe has injur'd, and can ne'er forgive.

Milton's Stile imitated, in a Translation of a Story out of the Third Æneid.

By Mr. JOSEPH ADDISON.

OST in the gloomy Horror of the Night

Horrid and waste; its Entrails fraught with Fire:
That now cafts out dark Fumes and pitchy Clouds,
Vaft Show'rs of Ashes hov'ring in the smoak;
Now belches molten Stones and ruddy Flame
Incenft, or tears up Mountains by the Roots,
Or flings a broken Rock aloft in Air.

The bottom works with smother'd Fire, involv'd
In peftilential Vapours, Stench and Smoak.
'Tis faid that Thunder-ftruck Enceladus,
Grov❜ling beneath th' incumbent Mountain's Weight
Lyes ftretch'd fupine, Eternal Prey of Flames;
And when he heaves againft the burning Load,
Reluctant to invert his broiling Limbs,

A fudden Earth-Quake shoots through all the Ifle,
And Etna thunders dreadful under Ground,
Then pours out Smoak in wreathing Curls convolv'd,
And fhades the Sun's bright Orb, and blots out Day.
Here in the shelter of the Woods we lodg'd,
And frighted heard ftrange Sounds and difmal Yells,
Nor faw from whence they came; for all the Night
A Murky Storm deep low'ring o'er our Heads
Hung imminent, that with impervious Gloom

Oppos'd

Oppos'd it felf to Cynthia's Silver Ray,

And fhaded all beneath: but now the Sun

With Orient Beams had chas'd the dewy Night
From Earth and Heav'n; all Nature food disclos'd.
When looking on the Neighb'ring Woods we saw
The ghaftly Visage of a Man unknown,
An uncouth Feature, Meager, Pale, and Wild,
Affliction's foul and terrible Dismay

Sate in his Looks, his Face impair'd and worn
With Marks of Famine, fpeaking fore Distress.
His Locks were tangled, and his fhaggy Beard
Matted with Filth, in all things elfe a Greek-

He firft advanc'd in hafte, but when he faw Trojans and Trojan Arms, in mid Career Stopt fhort, he back recoil'd as one furpriz'd: But foon recov'ring speed, he ran, he flew Precipitant, and thus with piteous Cries Our Ears affail'd: " By Heav'n's Eternal Fires, "By ev'ry God that fits Enthron'd on high, "By this good Light, relieve a Wretch forlorn, "And bear me hence to any diftant Shore, "So I may fhun this Savage Race accurft. "'Tis true I fought among the Greeks that late "With Sword and Fire o'er-turn'd Neptunian Troy, "And laid the Labour of the Gods in Duft;

For which, if fo the fad Offence deferves, "Plung'd in the Deep for ever let me lye "Whelm'd under Seas; if Death must be my doom, "Let Man inflict it, and I die well-pleas'd.

He ended here; and now profufe of Tears In fuppliant Mood fell proftrate at our Feet; We bade him fpeak from whence, and what he was And how by ftrefs of Fortune funk thus low; Anchifes too with friendly Aspect mild Gave him his Hand, fure Pledge of Amity; When, thus encourag'd, he began his Tale. I'm one, fays he, of poor Defcent, my Name Is Achamenides, my Country Greece,

VOL. V.

C

Vires' fad Compeer, who whilft he fled
The raging Cyclops, left me here behind
Difconfolate, forlorn; within the Cave
He left me, Giant Polypheme's dark Cave;
A Dungeon wide and horrible, the Walls
On all fides furr'd with mouldy Damps, and hung
With Clots of ropy Gore, and human Limbs,
His dire Repaft: Himself's of mighty size,
Hoarfe in his Voice, and in his Vifage grim,
Intractable, that riots on the Flesh

Of Mortal Men, and fwills the vital Blood.
Him did I see snatch up with horrid Grafp
Two fprawling Greeks, in either Hand a Man;
I faw him when with huge tempeftuous fway
He dafht and broke 'em on the Grundfil Edge;
The Pavement fwam in Blood, the Walls around
Were fpatter'd o'er with Brains. He lapt the Blood,
And chew'd the tender Flesh ftill warm with Life,
That fwell'd and heav'd it felf amidst his Teeth
As fenfible of Pain. Not lefs mean while

Our Chief incens'd, and ftudious of Revenge,
Plots his Deftruction, which he thus effects.

The Giant, gorg'd with Flesh, and Wine, and Blood,
Lay ftretcht at length and fnoring in his Den,
Belching raw Gobbets from his Maw, o'er-charg'd
With purple Wine and cruddl'd Gore confus'd.
We gather'd round, and to his fingle Eye,
The fingle Eye that in his Forehead glar'd
Like a full Moon, or a broad burnifh'd Shield,
A forky Staff we dext'rously apply'd,
Which in the fpacious Socket turning round,
Scoopt out the big round Gelly from its Orb.
But let me not thus interpofe Delays;
Fly, Mortals, fly this curft detefted Race:
A hundred of the fame ftupendous fize,
A hundred Cyclops live among the Hills,
Gigantick Brotherhood, that ftalk along
With horrid Strides o'er the high Mountains tops,

Enormous in their Gait; I oft have heard
Their Voice and Tread, oft feen 'em as they paft,
Sculking and fcowring down, half dead with fear.
Thrice has the Moon wafht all her Orb in Light,
Thrice travell'd o'er, in her obfcure fojourn
The realms of Night inglorious, fince I've liv'd
Amidst these Woods, gleaning from Thorns and Shrubs
A wretched Suftenance. As thus he spoke,
We faw defcending from a Neighb'ring Hill
Blind Polypheme; by weary Steps and flow
The groping Giant with a Trunk of Pine
Explor'd his way; around, his woolly Flocks
Attended grazing; to the well-known Shore
He bent his Course, and on the Margin ftood,
A hideous Monfter, terrible, deform'd;

Full in the midst of his high Front there gap'd
The spacious hollow where his Eye-ball roll'd,
A ghaftly Orifice: He rins'd the Wound,
And wash'd away the Strings and clotted Blood
That cak'd within; then stalking through the deep
He Fords the Ocean, while the Topmost Wave
Scarce reaches up his middle fide; we stood
Amaz'd be fure, a fudden Horror chill

Ran through each Nerve, and thrill'd in ev'ry Vein,
'Till using all the Force of Winds and Oars
We sped away; he heard us in our Course,

And with his out-ftretch'd Arms around him grop'd,
But finding nought within his reach, he rais'd
Such hideous Shouts that all the Ocean shook.
Ev'n Italy, tho' many a League remote,
In diftant Eccho's anfwer'd; Ætna roar'd,
Through all its inmost winding Caverns roar'd.
Rous'd with the Sound, the mighty Family
Of One-ey'd Brothers haften to the Shore,
And gather round the bellowing Polypheme,
A dire Affembly: we with eager hafte
Work ev'ry one, and from afar behold
A Host of Giants cov'ring all the Shore.
C 2

So ftands a Foreft tall of Mountain Oaks
Advanc'd to mighty growth: the Traveller
Hears from the humble Valley where he rides
'The hollow Murmurs of the Winds that blow
Amidst the Boughs, and at the distance fees
The shady tops of Trees unnumber'd rise,
A ftately Prospect, waving in the Clouds.

On the Death of the late Earl of Rochefter.

M

By Mrs. A. BEHN.

Ourn, mourn, ye Mufes, all your lofs deplore, The Young, the Noble Strephon is no more. Yes, yes, he fled quick as departing Light, And ne'er fhall rife from Death's eternal Night. So rich a Prize the Stygian Gods ne'er bore, Such Wit, fuch Beauty, never grac'd their Shore, He was but lent this duller World t'improve In all the Charms of Poetry, and Love; Both were his Gift, which freely he bestow'd, And like a God, dealt to the wond'ring Crowd, Scorning the little Vanity of Fame, Spight of himself attain'd a Glorious name. But oh! in vain was all his peevish Pride, The Sun as foon might his vaft Luftre hide, As piercing, pointed, and more lafting bright, As fuffering no viciffitudes of Night.

Mourn, Mourn, ye Mufes, all your lefs deplore, The Young, the Noble Strephon is no more. Now uninspir'd upon your Banks we lye, Unless when we wou'd mourn his Elegy; His Name's a Genius that wou'd Wit difpenfe, And give the Theme a Soul, the Words a Sense. But all fine Thought that ravish'd when it spoke, With the foft Youth eternal leave has took; Uncommon Wit that did the Soul o'ercome, Is buried all in Strephen's Worship'd Tomb;