Now lighting where the bloodless body lies, She with a funeral note renews her cries. At all her stretch her little wings she spread, And with her feathered arms embraced the dead; Then flickering to his pallid lips, she strove To print a kiss, the last essay of love; Whether the vital touch revived the dead, Or that the moving waters raised his head To meet the kiss, the vulgar doubt alone, For sure a present miracle was shown. The gods their shapes to winter-birds translate, But both obnoxious to their former fate. Their conjugal affection still is tied, And still the mournful race is multiplied; They bill, they tread; Alcyone compressed, Seven days sits brooding on her floating nest, A wintery queen: her sire at length is kind, Calms every storm, and hushes every wind; Prepares his empire for his daughter's ease, And for his hatching nephews smooths the seas. FOOTNOTES: [30] Ceyx was the son of the Morning Star. ÆSACUS TRANSFORMED INTO A CORMORANT. FROM THE ELEVENTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. These some old man sees wanton in the air, And praises the unhappy constant pair; Then to his friend the long-necked Cormorant shows, The former tale reviving other woes: That sable bird, he cries, which cuts the flood With slender legs, was once of royal blood; His ancestors from mighty Tros proceed, The brave Laomedon and Ganymede, Whose beauty tempted Jove to steal the boy, And Priam, hapless prince! who fell with Troy; Himself was Hector's brother, and, had fate But given this hopeful youth a longer date, Perhaps had rivalled warlike Hector's worth, Though on the mother's side of meaner birth; Fair Alyxothoé, a country maid, Bare Æsacus by stealth in Ida's shade. He fled the noisy town, and pompous court, } Loved the lone hills, and simple rural sport, } And seldom to the city would resort. } Yet he no rustic clownishness profest, Nor was soft love a stranger to his breast; The youth had long the nymph Hesperio wooed, Oft through the thicket, or the mead, pursued. Her haply on her father's bank he spied, While fearless she her silver tresses dried; Away she fled; not stags with half such speed, Before the prowling wolf, scud o'er the mead; Not ducks, when they the safer flood forsake, Pursued by hawks, so swift regain the lake, As fast he followed in the hot career; Desire the lover winged, the virgin fear. A snake unseen now pierced her heedless foot, } Quick through the veins the venomed juices shoot; } She fell, and 'scaped by death his fierce pursuit. } Her lifeless body, frighted, he embraced, And cried,--Not this I dreaded, but thy haste; O had my love been less, or less thy fear! The victory thus bought is far too dear.