Epodes 17 (Creech): Jam Jam Efficaci

NOw, now thy Power I Conquer'd own,
And humbly beg by Pluto's Throne,
By Powers below, by Proserpine,
by fierce Diana's angry shrine,
By all those Charms that can remove;
And call down Stars from Seats above,
Recall thy stroak, thy Charms forbear,
Spare me at last, Canidia, spare:
Achilles Teleph nobly spar'd,
Tho with his Mysian Bands He Warr'd:
Tho boldly He oppos'd His Fate,
And buoy'd the sinking Trojan State:
Stout Hector doom'd to Beasts a Prey
The Trojan Matrons bore away
When Priam midst the Grecian Fleet
Had fall'n at proud Achilles Feet:
By Circe's leave Ulysses Men
Receiv'd their former shapes agen;
Their Limbs, their Minds, and Voice restor'd,
They spoke, not grunted to their Lord:
Enough, enough hath vext my Soul,
O Tar's and Tinker's lovely Trull!
My Youth, my rosy Cheeks are gone,
And left pale Skin stretcht o're the Bone:
My Head grows white, it feels thy Bane,
No Ease doth lay me down from Pain,
Dayes urge the Nights, and Nights the Dayes,
Yet my swoln Heart can find no Ease:
Now I'me convinc't, 'tis now confest
Thy force hath reacht my troubled Breast:
Now I'me convinc't by wondrous Harms
My Head is split with Magick Charms:
My slow Belief I sadly Mourn;
What more? O Earth, O Floods, I burn!
Not half the Heat Alcides bore
When fir'd by Nessus Poysnous Gore:
Not half the Heat in Aetna Reigns,
That scorches o're my boyling Veins:
Yet still you heat till I'me calcin'd
To Dust, and scatter'd by the Wind:
What end of Pain? What hope for ease:
Speak, Speak, I'le suffer what you please,
I'me eager to avoid my Fate
And satisfie at any rate;
A Hundred Bulls shall pay their blood,
Or Lying Verse proclaim Thee good;
Chast, Modest, Just, thou shalt appear,
And walk midst Stars a glorious Star:
Great Castor vext at Helen's wrong
With blindness pay'd the railing Song;
Yet Prayers prevail'd, He heard his Cries,
And soon restor'd the Poets Eyes:
And now forget my curst Offence,
Restore (thou canst) my perish'd sence,
O nobly Born and nobly Bred,
Thou ne're hadst skill to raise the Dead,
Unbind the Poor Mans quiet Urn
Or make his shivering Soul return;
Nor scatter Ashes o're a Tomb;
As chast as fruitful is thy Womb,
And e're thy Child-bed Cloaths are clean,
Strange Breeder Thou art well agen.

I'Me deaf, I'me deaf, thou beg'st in vain;
Rocks beaten by the raging Main,
Not half so deaf will sooner hear
The naked sinking Mariner:
Could'st Thou Cotytto's Rites reprove,
Disclose my Mysteries of Love,
Could Censuring you my Tricks proclaim,
And fill the Country with my Fame?
At all my Arts prophanely laugh,
Yet clare to fancy to be safe?
In vain thou shalt, in vain inrich
With precious Gifts the famous Witch;
In vain strong Drugs and Charms require;
Fate shall be slow to thy desire:
Wretch, hated Life shall still remain
That thou might'st bear new racks of Pain:
False Tantalus doth beg for rest
Deluded by the hanging Feast.
Condemn'd the griping Vultur's Prey
Prometheus begs a dying Day:
Poor Sisyphus would fix his Stone
But Jove forbids it to be done.
Now thou from Towers shalt madly fall,
Now run thy Head against a Wall;
And tir'd at last with squeamish pain
Shalt tye the noose, but tye in vain:
Then on thy neck I'le bravely ride,
And make Thee bend beneath my Pride:
Shall I that can when e're I please
Wast men by waxen Images?
Shall I that can, as thou hast known,
(Curst prying Thou!) eclipse the Moon,
Drawn down the Stars from Seats above
And mix a furious Cup of Love,
Shall powerful I now grieve to see
My force too weak to baffle Thee?