Phaebus and Leucothoe

Of Phaebus Loves, and of their cause I sing,
Of that Just cause, from which his sorrows spring.
A like, fierce Flames, and equal Passions move,
The God of Battles, and the Queen of Love.
They both alike resolve to quench the Fire,
And now in secret to their Joys retire;
This Phaebus sees, as on his Course he goes,
And to wrong'd Vulcan does their stealth disclose.
Fine, Brazen Nets, by his directions made,
Are gently clos'd about the injur'd Bed.
So […] wrought, they could the Eye deceive,
More curious far than those the Spiders weave.
Thus strictly bound, they had not Pow'r to move,
The God of War was then Compell'd to Love.
Now Vulcan tells the sports that he had seen,
Acquaints the Gods with what had lately been,
And at his Ivory Doors they all come laughing in.
Thus Mars Triumphant in his Chariot rode,
[…] at, yet envy'd by each wishing God.
For this, from Venus, Phaebus Passion came,
From hence it was he felt his fatal Flame.
His longing Eyes alone Leucothoe view,
And give to her what to the World is due.
He sees alas! yet tho' all Eye he be,
If he is blest, he must do more than see.
He rises Early, and desires to stay,
Beyond the usual Limits of the Day.
In his sad Face his raging griefs appear,
Which strike the World with an amazing fear.
Thus an Eclipse could ne'er his light remove;
These Paler looks are the effects of Love.
As when great Fires upon the smaller beat,
They dim their brightness with a Conqu'ring heat.
So the Sun's-Beams, when Am'rous Flames he bore,
Lost all that Lustre which they shew'd before.
Leucothoe he to all the World prefers,
And all it's Beauties are despis'd for her's.
Her Royal Father Persia's Scepter sway'd,
Yet, not her Birth, but Charms, endear'd the Maid.
He now dismounts his glorious, shining throne,
And puts her Mother's awful likeness on,
Whilst by a Lamp the Beauteous Virgin spun.
He Kist her first, and scarce could more forbear,
Then bid the Maids withdraw, & leave them there,
He had a secret, that they must not hear,
Now the bold God his brightness reassumes,
And tells her who he is, and why he comes.
Tho' he sees all, and by him all things see,
By her Dear self he swears, there's none so bright as she.
Not his own rays such Radiant Lustre wear,
As her Lov'd Eyes in their swift glances bear.
Amaz'd she seems, nor has she Pow'r to stir,
The God as stedsast too admiring her.
Stupid, and senseless with her fear she stands,
And drops her distaff from her trembling hands.
Her Beauteous fright his siercer Passion fed,
And, now he Conquers, now enjoys the Maid.
This Clytie knew, nor could she long conceal,
She was her Rival, and she Joys to tell.
Her Salvage Father hears her fatal Crime,
And her excuses do but harden him.
His Beauteous Child he does alive inter,
And throws a Mountain on the injur'd fair.
This Phaebus sees, and would new Life beget,
While his bright Beams do at the Mountain beat,
In vain, alas! she cannot feel their heat.
How does he grieve at his too feeble Pow'r?
He ne'er so truly did Lament before.
Not his lost Son made him so sadly Mourn,
He scorch'd the World, but she made […] burn.