To this bright Nymph Eurynomè gave Birth
In the blest Confines of the spicy Earth.
Excelling others, she her self beheld
By her own blooming Daughter far excell'd.
The Sire was Orchamus, whose vast Command,
The Sev'nth from Belus, rul'd the Persian Land.
Deep in cool Vales, beneath th' Hesperian Sky,
For the Sun's fiery Steeds the Pastures lye.
Ambrosia there they eat, and thence they gain
New Vigour, and their daily Toils sustain.
While thus on heav'nly Food the Coursers fed,
And Night, around, her gloomy Empire spread,
The God assum'd the Mother's Shape, and Air,
And pass'd, unheeded, to his darling Fair.
Close by a Lamp, with Maids encompass'd round,
The Royal Spinster, full employ'd, he found;
Then cry'd, A-while from Work, my Daughter, rest;
And, like a Mother, scarce her Lips he prest.
Servants, retire!———nor Secrets dare to hear
Intrusted only to a Daughter's Ear.
They swift obey'd: Nor one, suspicious, thought
The Secret, which their Mistress would be taught,
Then he: Since now no Witnesses are near,
Behold! the God, who guides the various Year!
The World's vast Eye, of Light the Source serene,
Who all things sees, by whom are all things seen.
Believe me, Nymph! (for I the Truth have show'd)
Thy Charms have Pow'r to charm so great a God.
Confus'd, she heard him his soft Passion tell,
And on the Floor, untwirl'd, the Spindle fell:
Still from the sweet Confusion some new Grace
Blush'd out by Stealth, and languish'd in her Face.
The Lover, now inflam'd, himself put on,
And out at once the God, all-radiant, shone.
The Virgin startled at his alter'd Form,
Too weak to bear a God's impetuous Storm:
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