Ye gods! what thick involving darkness blinds The stupid faculties of mortal minds! Tereus the credit of good-nature gains From these his crimes; so well the villain feigns, And, unsuspecting of his base designs, In the request fair Philomela joins; Her snowy arms her aged sire embrace, And clasp his neck with an endearing grace: Only to see her sister she entreats, A seeming blessing, which a curse completes. Tereus surveys her with a luscious eye, And in his mind forestalls the blissful joy: Her circling arms a scene of love inspire, And ev’ry kiss foments the raging fire. Fondly he wishes for the father’s place, To feel, and to return, the warm embrace; Since not the nearest ties of filial blood Would damp his flame, and force him to be good.

At length, for both their sakes, the king agrees; And Philomela, on her bended knees, Thanks him for what her fancy calls success, When cruel Fate intends her nothing less.