Nor durst disturb the goddess of the wood; For such she seemed by her celestial face, Excelling all the rest of human race; And things divine, by common sense he knew, Must be devoutly seen at distant view: So checking his desire, with trembling heart Gazing he stood, nor would, nor could depart; Fixed as a pilgrim wildered in his way, } Who dares not stir by night, for fear to stray, } But stands with awful eyes to watch the dawn of day. } At length awaking, Iphigene the fair, (So was the beauty called, who caused his care,) Unclosed her eyes, and double day revealed, While those of all her slaves in sleep were sealed. The slavering cudden, propped upon his staff, Stood ready gaping with a grinning laugh, To welcome her awake, nor durst begin To speak, but wisely kept the fool within. Then she; What make you, Cymon, here alone?-- For Cymon's name was round the country known, Because descended of a noble race, (And for a soul ill sorted with his face.) But still the sot stood silent with surprise, With fixed regard on her new-opened eyes, And in his breast received the envenomed dart, A tickling pain that pleased amid the smart. But conscious of her form, with quick distrust She saw his sparkling eyes, and feared his brutal lust; This to prevent, she waked her sleepy crew, And, rising hasty, took a short adieu. Then Cymon first his rustic voice essayed, With proffered service to the parting maid To see her safe; his hand she long denied, But took at length, ashamed of such a guide. So Cymon led her home, and leaving there, No more would to his country clowns repair, But sought his father's house, with better mind, Refusing in the farm to be confined. The father wondered at the son's return, And knew not whether to rejoice or mourn; But doubtfully received, expecting still To learn the secret causes of his altered will. Nor was he long delayed; the first request } He made, was like his brothers to be dress'd, } And, as his birth required, above the rest. } With ease his suit was granted by his sire, Distinguishing his heir by rich attire: His body thus adorned, he next designed With liberal arts to cultivate his mind; He sought a tutor of his own accord, And studied lessons he before abhorred. Thus the man-child advanced, and learned so fast, That in short time his equals he surpassed: His brutal manners from his breast exiled, His mien he fashioned, and his tongue he filed; In every exercise of all admired, He seemed, nor only seemed, but was inspired; Inspired by love, whose business is to please; He rode, he fenced, he moved with graceful ease, More famed for sense, for courtly carriage more, Than for his brutal folly known before. What then of altered Cymon shall we say, But that the fire which choked in ashes lay, A load too heavy for his soul to move,