He saw, admir'd, and thus her spotless Frame
He prais'd, and praising, kindled his own Flame.
A Rival now to all the Youths, who run,
Envious, he fears, they should not be undone.
But why (reflects he) idly thus is shown
The Fate of others, yet untry'd my own?
The Coward must not on Love's Aid depend;
The God was ever to the Bold a Friend.
Mean time the Virgin flies, or seems to fly,
Swift as a Scythian Arrow cleaves the Sky:
Still more, and more the Youth her Charms admires,
The Race it self t' exalt her Charms conspires.
The golden Pinions, which her Feet adorn,
In wanton Flutt'rings by the Winds are born.
Down from the Head, the long, fair Tresses flow,
And sport with lovely Negligence below.
The waving Ribbands, which her Buskins tie,
Her snowy Skin with waving Purple die;
As crimson Veils, in Palaces display'd,
To the white Marble lend a blushing Shade.
Nor long he gaz'd, yet while he gaz'd, she gain'd
The Goal, and the victorious Wreath obtain'd.
The Vanquish'd sigh, and as the Law decreed,
Pay the dire Forfeit, and prepare to bleed.
Then rose Hippomenes, not yet afraid,
And fix'd his Eyes full on the beauteous Maid.
Where is (he cry'd) the mighty Conquest won,
To distance those, who want the Nerves to run:
Here prove superior Strength, nor shall it be
Thy Loss of Glory, if excell'd by me.
High my Descent, near Neptune I aspire,
For Neptune was Grand-Parent to my Sire.
From that great God the fourth my self I trace,
Nor sink my Virtues yet beneath my Race.
Thou from Hippomenes, o'ercome, may'st claim
An envy'd Triumph, and a deathless Fame.
While
