Flew off to Heav'n: The Hag with Eyes askew
Looked up, and mutter'd Curses as she flew;
For sore she fretted, and began to grieve
At the Success which she her self must give.
Then takes her Staff, hung round with Wreaths of Thorn,
And sails along, in a black Whirlwind born,
O'er Fields and flow'ry Meadows: Where she steers
Her baneful Course, a mighty Blast appears,
Mildews and Blights; the Meadows are defac'd,
The Fields, the Flow'rs, and the whole Year laid waste:
On Mortals next, and peopled Towns she falls,
And breaths a burning Plague among their Walls.
When Athens she beheld, for Arts renown'd,
With Peace made happy, and with Plenty crown'd,
Scarce could the hideous Fiend from Tears forbear,
To find out nothing that deserv'd a Tear.
Th' Apartment now she enter'd, where at rest
Aglauros lay, with gentle Sleep opprest,
To execute Minerva's dire command,
She stroak'd the Virgin with her canker'd Hand,
Then prickly Thorns into her Breast convey'd
That stung to Madness the devoted Maid:
Her subtle Venom still improves the Smart,
Frets in the Blood, and festers in the Heart.
To make the Work more sure, a Scene she drew,
And plac'd before the dreaming Virgin's View
Her Sister's Marriage, and her glorious Fate:
Th' imaginary Bride appears in State;
The Bride-groom with unwonted Beauty glows;
For Envy Magnifies what-e'er she shows.
Full of the Dream, Aglauros pin'd away
In Tears all Night, in Darkness all the Day;
Consum'd like Ice, that just begins to run,
When feebly smitten by the distant Sun;
Or like unwholsome Weeds, that set on Fire
Are slowly wasted, and in Smoke expire.
Giv'n