Are ever present, and her crime upbraid. She blames herself, nor blames her lover less, Augments her anger, as her fears increase: From her own back the burden would remove, And lays the load on his ungoverned love, Which interposing durst, in heaven's despite, Invade, and violate another's right: The powers incensed awhile deferred his pain, And made him master of his vows in vain: But soon they punished his presumptuous pride, } That for his daring enterprise she died, } Who rather not resisted, than complied. } Then, impotent of mind, with altered sense, She hugged the offender, and forgave the offence, Sex to the last: meantime with sails declined The wandering vessel drove before the wind: Tossed and retossed, aloft, and then alow, } Nor port they seek, nor certain course they know, } But every moment wait the coming blow. } Thus blindly driven, by breaking day they viewed The land before them, and their fears renewed; The land was welcome, but the tempest bore The threatened ship against a rocky shore. A winding bay was near; to this they bent, And just escaped; their force already spent: Secure from storms, and panting from the sea, The land unknown at leisure they survey; And saw (but soon their sickly sight withdrew) The rising towers of Rhodes at distant view; And cursed the hostile shore of Pasimond, Saved from the seas, and shipwrecked on the ground. The frighted sailors tried their strength in vain To turn the stern, and tempt the stormy main; But the stiff wind withstood the labouring oar, And forced them forward on the fatal shore! The crooked keel now bites the Rhodian strand, And the ship moored constrains the crew to land: Yet still they might be safe, because unknown; But, as ill fortune seldom comes alone, The vessel they dismissed was driven before, Already sheltered on their native shore; Known each, they know, but each with change of chear; The vanquished side exults, the victors fear; Not them but theirs, made prisoners ere they fight, Despairing conquest, and deprived of flight. The country rings around with loud alarms, And raw in fields the rude militia swarms;[220] Mouths without hands; maintained at vast expence, In peace a charge, in war a weak defence; Stout once a month they march, a blustering band, And ever, but in times of need, at hand: This was the morn when, issuing on the guard, Drawn up in rank and file they stood prepared Of seeming arms to make a short essay, Then hasten to be drunk, the business of the day. The cowards would have fled, but that they knew Themselves so many, and their foes so few; But, crowding on, the last the first impel, Till overborne with weight the Cyprians fell; Cymon enslaved, who first the war begun, And Iphigene once more is lost and won. Deep in a dungeon was the captive cast,