He said, and soaring, swiftly wing’d his flight, Nor stopp’d, but on Parnassus’ airy height. Two different shafts he from his quiver draws; One to repel desire, and one to cause. One shaft is pointed with refulgent gold, To bribe the love, and make the lover bold: One blunt, and tipp’d with lead, whose base allay Provokes disdain, and drives desire away. The blunted bolt against the nymph he dress’d, But with the sharp transfix’d Apollo’s breast.
The enamour’d deity pursues the chase; The scornful damsel shuns his loath’d embrace: In hunting beasts of prey her youth employs, And Phoebe rivals in her rural joys: With naked neck she goes, and shoulders bare, And with a fillet binds her flowing hair. By many suitors sought, she mocks their pains, And still her vow’d virginity maintains. On wilds and woods she fixes her desire; Nor knows what youth and kindly love inspire. Her father chides her oft: “Thou owest,” says he, “A husband to thyself, a son to me.” She, like a crime, abhors the nuptial bed; She glows with blushes, and she hangs her head: Then, casting round his neck her tender arms, Soothes him with blandishments and filial charms. “Give me, my lord,” she said, “to live and die A spotless maid, without the marriage tie; ’Tis but a small request; I beg no more Than what Diana’s father gave before.” The good old sire was soften’d to consent; But said her wish would prove her punishment; For so much youth and so much beauty join’d, Opposed the state which her desires design’d.
The god of light, aspiring to her bed, Hopes what he seeks, with flattering fancies fed, And is, by his own oracles, misled. And as in empty fields the stubble burns, Or nightly travellers, when day returns, Their useless torches on dry hedges throw, That catch the flames, and kindle all the row; So burns the god, consuming in desire, And feeding in his breast a fruitless fire: Her well-turn’d neck he view’d (her neck was bare), And on her shoulders her dishevell’d hair: “O were it comb’d,” said he, “with what a gace Would every waving curl become her face!” He view’d her eyes, like heavenly lamps that shone. He view’d her lips, too sweet to view alone. Swift as the wind the damsel fled away, Nor did for these alluring speeches stay. “Stay, nymph,” he cried, “I follow, not a foe. Thus from the lion trips the trembling doe; Thus from the wolf the frighten’d lamb removes, And from pursuing falcons fearful doves: Thou shunn’st a god, and shunn’st a god that loves. Ah, lest some thorn should pierce thy tender foot, Or thou shouldst fall in flying my pursuit!
To sharp uneven ways thy steps decline; Abate thy speed, and I will hate of mine. Yet think from whom thou dost so rashly fly; Nor basely born, nor shepherd’s swain am I. Perhaps thou know’st not my superior state; And from that ignorance proceeds thy hate. Me Claros, Delphos, Tenedos, obey; These hands the Patareian sceptre sway: The king of gods begot me: what shall be, Or is, or ever was, in fate, I see: Mine is the invention of the charming lyre: Sweet notes, and heavenly numbers, I inspire: Sure is my bow, unerring is my dart; But ah! more deadly his who pierced my heart. Med’cine is mine; what herbs and simples grow In fields and forests, all their powers I know, And am the great physician call’d below. Alas! that fields and forests can afford No remedies to heal their lovesick lord: To cure the pains of love no plant avails; And his own physic the physician fails.”
She heard not half, so furiously she flies; And on her ear the imperfect accent dies. Fear gave her wings; and, as she fled, the wind Increasing, spread her flowing hair behind.