THE

RAPE OF PROSERPINE.

BOOK I.

Introduction.

HE who first trusted to the faithless deep,

And kiss'd the waves, with rude unfinish'd oar,

Who rode upon the treach'rous element,

Launch'd in a hollow'd elm, and gain'd through art

A path which nature had denied to man;

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Claud.

A

Trembling at first, to tranquil seas alone

He gives the cautious bark, and near to land
Plies the yet timid oar; more vent'rous soon
A wider range his roving vessel steers,

And to the gentle breathings of the south

Expands her flutt'ring sail; but when his soul
Acquires encreasing courage, and his heart

The languid influence of fear rejects,

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He flies exulting o'er the boundless main,

Following the stars of heav'n, and boldly dares

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Ægean winters and Ionian seas.

THE

RAPE OF PROSERPINE.

Book I.

Of Hell's dread ravisher, whose fiery car
And ebon steeds affrighted from their spheres
The train of night; of Pluto's bridal bow'r,
Dark in its festive gloom with horrid shades,
My lab'ring mind impels my eager voice
In daring notes to sing. Hence, ye profane—
Now inspiration breathes and lifts my soul
Transported; all Apollo fires my breast:
Before my sight the marble-structur'd fanes
Tremble around, and from the glorious dome

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Beams of celestial radiance attest

The advent of the god. Earth's num'rous shores
Murmur applause, each blazing altar glows;
While notes triumphant from the sculptur❜d walls
Of Athens' sacred temple, or Eleusis',
Swell on the raptur'd ear. The dragon yoke
Exalt their shining crests, in calmed mood,
And list the song, and wave their color'd necks.
See Hecat rises, threefold queen; and clad
In tiger's spoils, clasp'd with refulgent gold,

Gay Bacchus comes, in ivy garlands drest,

And with the thyrsus guides his reeling steps.

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Ye whom the lesser pow'rs of hell obey, Immortals, to whose wealth unlimited

Time adds decaying worlds, ye whom the Styx
Surrounds with melancholy wave, while floods
Of liquid flame brighten your dread abodes,
Deign to reveal your hidden mysteries,

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And tell the secrets of your race!

O say,

What torch of love inspired the gloomy king,
What sudden seizure doom'd stern Proserpine
To joyless Chaos; tell through what wide shores
Her anxious mother roved complaining. Whence
Rude nations laws obtain'd, and o'er the fields
Gay harvests rose where late the acorn fell.

Longtime the prince of night in brooding thought

Fierce war against the Thund'rer had revolved,

Kindled to ire that he alone should want

Fit partner to his bed; of all the gods

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That he sole joyless should consume his age
Childless, and unendear'd by nuptial ties.

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And now from shadowy dens and caves of death
Rushes each monstrous brood, the furies arm'd
Provoke the fight, and fell Tisiphoné

With snaky hair waves high a burning pine,
And calls the buried dead to join the strife.

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Then had the elements no more obey'd