The _Cretan_ Lady having jumped out of Bed in a raving Fit, wandered on the foreign Shore of _Dia_. She had nothing on but a loose wrapping Gown, without Stockings or Cap: and her Hair hung dishevelled over her Shoulders. She complained of the Cruelty of _Theseus_ to the deep Waves, whilst an unworthy Shower of Tears ran down her Cheeks. She wept, and lamented aloud, and both became her; nor did her Tears diminish her Beauty. Once, and again, she beat her delicious Breasts with her Hands, and cried aloud, _The perfidious Man hath abandoned me; What will become of poor _Ariadne_? What will become of poor _Ariadne_?_ On a sudden a vast Multitude was heard, while many Kinds of strange Instruments, like those of the miserable Masons, accompanied the Voices. The poor Lady sunk with Fear; and suppressed her last Words; nor did the least Blood remain in her Countenance. And now behold the _Bacchanalian_ Women, with their Hair about their Ears, and the light Satyrs, who are always Forerunners of the God. Behold old Master _Silenus_[47] as drunk as a Piper, riding on an Ass, which he is hardly able either to sit or guide. The old Gentleman, endeavouring to follow the _Bacchanalians_, who fly from him and towards him, sets Spurs to his Ass, which being a vicious Beast, kicked up, and threw him over his Ears: upon which all the Satyrs set up a loud Shout, crying out, _Rise, Father, rise and be d----nd to you_. And now the God himself, high mounted on his Four-Wheel Chaise, the Top of which was adorned with Grapes, and which he drove himself, flung his Golden Reins over the Backs of his Pair of Tygers. Poor _Ariadne's_ Colour forsook her Cheeks, and _Theseus_ and her Voice at once deserted her Lips. Thrice she attempted to fly, and thrice being retained, she grew stiff with Fear, and stood trembling as Corn waves in the Field, or Reeds on the River Bank, when fanned by the Wind. To whom the God; _Behold, Madam, a more faithful Lover at your Feet: Fear nothing, Lady fair, you shall be the Wife of _Bacchus_. The Sky shall be your Dowry, where shining in a bright Constellation, by the Name of _Ariadne's_ Crown, you shall often direct the doubtful Mariner's Passage._ He said; and leaping from his Chariot, lest _Ariadne_ should be afraid of the Tygers, the Sand sunk under the Weight of his Feet; and catching her instantly in his Arms, he carried her, who was incapable of scratching, directly off; (for every Thing, we know, is in the Power of a Deity:) And now, whilst Part of his Train sing the _Hymenaeum_, and other cry _Evie Evoe_, two very mysterious Words, and full of Masonry, the God and his new-ravished Bride go together, between a Pair of sacred Sheets.