Perseus and Andromeda

The Conqu'ring Perseus now his Wings had ty'd,
To his swift Feet, his Faulchion to his side;
When, thro' the Air the dauntless Hero flies,
Free as the Birds, who cut the liquid Skies.
Now […] beneath him he perceives a Maid,
On the hard shore, in Iron Fetters lay'd.
A monster's prey was the fair Virgin brought,
The fairest piece, that ever Nature wrought.
Chain'd to a Rock, she waited there her Doom,
Naked, and Whiter than the Snowy foam.
The flying Hero now descends from high,
Where he had cours'd along the Airy Sky.
With a sixt look he views the Virgin there,
Amaz'd, and wond'ring he admires the fair,
'Till he forgot to fly, forgot he was in Air.
Had he not view'd her Hair, which flow'd behind,
Held loosely waving by the gentle Wind,
Had she not wept, and he her sorrows seen,
He would have thought she had some Statue been.
Strait he descends from where he lately flew,
Impatient now to get a […] view;
Closer, and closer to the Maid he came,
And all at once he feels a raging Flame.
With Love, and fear, with wonder, and with awe,
By slow degrees he does towards her draw.
With his Eyes sixt, all motionless he stands,
Then, why she wore those Fetters he demands;
He thought her worthy most of Marriage bands.
Declare, he crys, thou matchless, Charming fair;
Why thus in Chains? What are thy Crimes? declare.
Who us'd thee thus, and tell me Justly why?
How can such Beauty be condemn'd to die!
Thou shalt by me, thy Champion, be restor'd,
For thee the Thund'rer's Off-spring draws his Sword.
Say, if deliver'd by the Son of Jove,
Shall your Life purchase, in return, your Love?
Say, Charmer, speak; me thro' a brazen hold,
He got, descending in a show'r of Gold.
The bashful Virgin still persists to mourn,
And for his Words, she does her sighs return.
Her growing shame still more her sorrow moves,
She weeps, and blushes, while with Joy he Loves.
In Chains extended at their length, she lies,
While he, in transport, feeds his longing Eyes,
Fain would she hide her blushes from his view,
But that her Fetters hinder'd her to do.
With deep regret her shame the Virgin bears,
And […] her Eyes with constant Floods of Tears.
Oft tho' he urg'd her, she kept silent long,
But thus, at last, unlock'd her trembling Tongue.
My conscious Mother, fatal too, as fair,
Her's with proud Juno's Beauties would compare.
Who, in her Vengeance, most unjust, decreed,
That I unboasting, for her Crime should bleed.
A dreadful monster from the Seas will rise,
And I, 'tis I, must be that monster's prize.
With his broad Breast he will the Surges Plow,
O there, there, there, I see him issuing now.
Save me, ah! save me, hast with all your Pow'rs,
And, gen'rous Youth, I will be ever yours.
Thus spoke the fearful, Lovely, Charming Maid,
Who sigh'd, and wept, for she was still afraid.
And now the Seas began aloud to roar,
With the apparent Monster hast'ning to the shore.
When the bold Hero o'er the Billows flies,
And Tow'rs above him, up, tow'rds Silver Skies.
The furious Beast his gliding shadow views,
Which, chacing eager, he o'er Waves pursues.
As Jove's strong Bird, who has a Dragon seen.
Siezes, his neck, and strikes his Talons in;
So, the descending Perseus Sheath'd his Sword
In the vast Beast, who like the Oceans roar'd.
The wounded Monster o'er the Billows bounds,
And turns fierce on him, to give larger wounds.
Now far beneath the Waves he dives, and now,
Rises again, and does the Surges Plow;
Vast as some Island, does he wildly Play,
And from his Mouth pours out a bloody Sea.
His dreadful Jaws the flying Hero shuns,
And his bright Sword, thro' his thick Neck he runs.
Loudly he roars, the Maid the Eccho heard,
And some new Monster on the shore she fear'd.
Mad with the anguish of the wound, he raves,
And lashes with his tayl the suff'ring Waves.
High in the Air he spouts such Wat'ry Clouds,
The Hero thought he was beneath the Floods.
His wings now wet, and flagging, down he falls,
And is receiv'd upon the Monster's scales.
Now with his Faulchion does he bruise his sides,
And, as in Triumph, on his foe he rides,
Who Mad, and Rabid, turns his angry head,
On tow'rds the Hero with wide Jaws he fled,
Caught in his Throat his Sword, and with the wound lay dead.
Strait from the Beast Victorious Perseus flies,
In hast, unloos'd, and so receiv'd his prize.