Repuls'd and baffled, fiercer still she burns,
And Caunus with Disdain her impious Love returns.
He saw no End of her injurious Flame,
And fled his Country to avoid the Shame.
Forsaken Byblis, who had Hopes no more,
Burst out in Rage, and her loose Robes she tore;
With her fair Hands she smote her tender Breast,
And to the wond'ring World her Love confess'd;
O'er Hills and Dales, o'er Rocks and Streams she flew,
But still in vain did her wild Lust pursue:
Wearied at length, on the cold Earth she fell,
And now in Tears alone could her sad Story tell.
Relenting Gods in Pity fix'd her there,
And to a Fountain turn'd the weeping Fair.
The Fable of Iphis and Ianthe.
By Mr. Dryden.
The Fame of this, perhaps, thro' Crete had flown:
But Crete had newer Wonders of her own,
In Iphis chang'd: For, near the Gnossian Bounds,
(As loud Report the Miracle resounds)
At Phœstus dwelt a Man of honest Blood,
But meanly born, and not so rich as good;
Esteem'd, and lov'd by all the Neighbourhood;
Who to his Wife, before the Time assign'd
For Child-birth came, thus bluntly spoke his Mind.
If Heav'n, said Lygdus, will vouchsafe to hear,
I have but two Petitions to prefer;
Short Pains for thee, for me a Son and Heir.
Girls cost as many Throes in bringing forth;
Besides, when born, the Titts are little worth;
Weak puling things, unable to sustain
Their Share of Labour, and their Bread to gain.
