Nor longer Atys' firft request oppofe;
• War was your dream, no war this region knows:
For humbler prey the hunters range the wood,
Their fpears fly innocent of human blood.
Had in the sportive chace fome phantom boar
• Dug deep the wound, and drank the vital gore,
That dreadful vision had excus'd your care,
Nor Atys offer'd an unheeded pray'r.
'I love the prince; and, but I think his life
• Safe as my own, would urge him from the ftrife.
• Permit him, Sir-this arm fhall guard him there;
And fafely may you truft Adraftus' care;
For, fhould he fall, this arm would furely prove
• My bofom feels a more than father's love.'
As, when impetuous thro' th' autumnal sky,
Urg'd by the winds the clouds difparting fly,
O'er the broad wave, or wide-extended mead,
Shifts the quick beam, alternate light and fhade;
So glanc'd the monarch's mind from thought to thought,
So in his varying face the paffions wrought.
Oft on his fon he turn'd a doubtful eye,
Afraid to grant, nor willing to deny ;
Oft rais'd it, tearful, to the blefs'd abodes,
And fought in vain the unregarding gods:
Then look'd confent. But added, with a groan,
From thee, Adraftus, I expect my fon!'
Why fhould I tell, impatient for the fight,
How Atys chid the ling'ring hours of night?
Or how the rofeate morn with early ray
Streak'd the glad eaft, and gradual spread the day,
When forth he iffu'd like the Lycian god?
Loose to the breeze his hov'ring mantle flow'd,
Wav'd the light plume above, behind him hung
His ratt'ling quiver, and his bow unftrung.
He mounts his steed; the steed obey'd the rein,
Arch'd his high neck, and graceful paw'd the plain.
F'en Crafus' felf forgot a while his fear
Of future ills, and gaz'd with transport there.
Or why relate, when now the train withdrew,
How fair Idalia figh'd a soft adieu ;
How Cræfus follow'd with his voice and
Fond to behold, but fonder to advise,
And oft repeated, as they journey'd on,
From thee, Adraftus, I expect my fon!'
Suffice it us, they leave the waves which flow
O'er beds of gold, and Tmolus' fragrant brow;
They pass Magnefia's plains, Caïcus' stream
The Myfian bound, which chang'd it's ancient name,
And reach Olympus' verge;
There Defolation spread her ghaftly reign
O'er trampled vines, and diffipated grain,
And fav with joy revolving seasons smile
To fwell her pomp, and mock the lab'rer's toil.
Led by her baleful fteps; the youth explore
The dark retreats, and rouze the foaming boar.
Hard is the ftrife; his horny fides repel,
Unting'd, the plumy fhaft and blunted steel.
The dogs lie mangled o'er the bleeding plain,
And many a fteed, and many a youth was flain;
When now his well-aim'd bow Adraftus drew,
Twang'd the ftretch'd ftring, the feather'd vengeance flew,
And raz'd the monster's neck: he roars, he flies;
The crowd pursues, the hills refound their cries.
Full in the centre of a vale, embrown'd
With arching fhades, they close the favage round:
He wheels, he glares, he meditates his prey,
Refolv'd to ftrike, refolv'd to force his way;
But Atys timely ftopp'd his fierce career,
And thro' his eye-ball sent the whizzing spear,
And joyful faw him reel; with eager speed
He bares the shining blade, he quits his fteed.
Ah! ftop, rafh youth! not conqueft you purfue, • Death lies in ambush there, the victim you;
You rush on fate.'-In vain-he reach'd the beast; He rais'd his arm, and now had pierc'd his breast; When, in that moment, from the adverse fide, His too-advent'rous prince Adraftus spy'd, And launch'd, with nervous haste, his eager spear, Alarm'd, and trembling for a life so dear; Glanc'd o'er the falling beaft the fated wood, And fix'd in Atys' breast drank deep the vital flood. The ftruggling prince, impatient of the wound, Writh'd on the spear; the crowds enclose him round: Then funk in death, unknowing whence it came; Yet, e'en in death, he call'd Adraftus' name. • Where flies Adraftus from his dying friend?
O bear me near!' Poor prince! thy life must end Not in thy murd'rer's arms, he hears thee not; Like fome fad wretch, fix'd to the fatal spot Where fell the bolt of Jove; nor ear, nor eye, Nor arm to help, nor language to reply, Nor thought itself is his. Oblig'd to move As they direct his fteed, he leaves the grove; As they direct, to Sardis' tow'rs again, In filence, follows the returning train.
There too we turn; for there the penfive fire Now hopes, now fears, and pines with vain defire. In ev'ry duft before the wind that flies,
In ev'ry diftant cloud which ftains the skies,
He fees his fon return: till, oft deceiv'd,
No more his eye the flatt'ring fcene believ'd:
Yet ftill. he wander'd; and, with looks intent,
The fatal road his darling Atys went.
There to averted Heav'n he tells his pain,
And flaughter'd hecatombs decrees in vain.
There to Idalia, frequent by his fide,
Relates his fears, or foothes the weeping bride
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