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ON our quitting the places consecrated to Bacchus, we soon felt that our evils had been only suspended. ’Tis true, we had not the madness with which we had before been agitated; but a gloomy melancholy had seized our souls, and we were racked by suspicions and inquietudes.
It seemed to us, that the cruel Goddesses had tormented us, in order to give us a foresight of the misfortunes to which we were destined.
Sometimes we regretted our having left the temple of Bacchus; and soon after we were induced to approach that of Gnidus: we were desirous of seeing Themira and Camilla, the powerful objects of our love and jealousy.
But we had none of that sweetness people are accustomed to feel, when on the point of seeing those they love, when the soul is already ravished, and tastes beforehand the promised happiness.
Perhaps, said Aristeus, I shall find Lycas the shepherd with Camilla. How do I know that he is not talking to her this very moment? Ye Gods! the traitress takes pleasure in hearing him.
It was said the other day, cried I, that Thyrsis, who has been so in love with Themira, was to arrive at Gnidus. He has loved her, and doubtless loves her still; I must dispute with him a heart I believed intirely my own.
I remember that one day Lycas sung to my Camilla. Insensible wretch that I was, I was delighted at hearing him praise her.
I remember that Thyrsis brought my Themira some fresh-blown flowers. Unhappy that I am, she placed them in her bosom, saying, It is a present from Thyrsis. Oh! I should have snatched them, and have trampled them under my feet.
Not long since I went with Camilla to make an offering to Venus of two young turtles; but they escaped from me, and flew away.
I had inscribed my name with that of Themira on the trees; I had written also the story of our love: I read them, and read them again without ceasing; but one morning I found them effaced.
Camilla, drive not to despair an unhappy wretch who loves thee; for love, when provoked, has all the effects of hatred.
The first Gnidian that shall look at my Themira, I will pursue even into the Temple, and punish him, though at the feet of Venus.
While we were holding these discourses, we arrived within sight of the sacred grove where the Goddess delivers her oracles. The people were in crowds that moved like the waves of the sea agitated by the wind. Some came to hear, and others to receive an answer.
We entered the crowd, and I lost the happy Aristeus. Already had he embraced his Camilla; and I was still in search of my Themira.
I at length found her. I felt my jealousy redoubled at her sight, and began to resume my former madness. But she looked at me, and I was filled with tranquillity. Thus do the Gods send back the Furies, when they escape out of hell.
Oh! what tears, cried she, hast thou cost me! Three times has the sun run his course, and I feared that I had lost thee for ever. I have been to consult the Oracle. I did not ask whether thou lovedst me. I only desired to know if thou wast still alive. But Venus has just answered, that thou wilt love me for ever.
Excuse, said I, an unfortunate wretch, who would have hated thee had he been capable of it. The Gods, in whose hands I am, may take away my reason; but they cannot, Themira, deprive me of my love.
I have been agitated by the most dreadful jealousy, and have endured the tortures inflicted in Tartarus on the ghosts of criminals. But this advantage have I drawn from it, I am more sensible of the happiness of being beloved by thee, after the dreadful situation of fearing to lose thee.
Come then with me; retire into this solitary grove. We ought by love to expiate the crimes I have committed. It is a great crime, Themira, to believe thee unfaithful.
Never were the Elysian bowers, made by the Gods for the tranquillity of the souls they love; never were the forests of Dodona, where the trees spoke, and revealed to man his future felicity; never were the gardens of the Hesperides, whose boughs bent under the weight of their golden fruit, more charming than this grove adorned with the inchanting presence of Themira.
I remember, a Satyr who pursued a nymph, that fled from him all in tears, saw us; and stopping, cried, Happy lovers! your eyes know how to answer and reply to your passion; and your sighs are repaid by sighs! But I spend my life in following a cruel shepherdess; unhappy while I pursue; but more unhappy still when I have caught her.
A young nymph, who was wandering alone thro’ the grove, perceived us; and sighing cried, It is only to augment my torments, that cruel Cupid brings before me so tender a lover.
We found Apollo seated near a fountain. That God had followed Diana, whom a timorous deer had led into these woods. I knew him again by his fair hair, and the immortal troop that surrounded him. He struck his lyre; it drew the woods, the trees moved, and the lions remained immoveable. But we entered farther into the forest, and were in vain invited by that divine harmony.
Where do you imagine that I found the God of Love. I found him on the lips of Themira. I afterwards discovered him on her bosom: he saved himself at her feet; I found him still: he then hid himself under her knees; I followed him, and should have continued to follow him, if the weeping, the angry Themira had not stopped me. He was at his last retreat, and she was so charming, that he could not leave her. Thus, a tender linnet, detained by fear and love, covers her little ones with her wings, and remains immoveable under the hand that approaches her, and cannot consent to abandon them.
Unhappy as I am, Themira heard my complaints, and was not foftened: she listened to my intreaties, and became more severe. In short, I grew rash: she was enraged, and I trembled: she appeared sorry; and I shed tears: she repulsed me; and I fell at her feet. I then perceived, that the sighs I uttered would have been my last, had not Themira laid her hand on my heart, and recalled me to life.
I am not so cruel as thou, said she, for I have never thought of killing thee; and yet thou wouldest draw me into the darkness of the grave. Open those dying eyes, if thou wouldst not have mine shut for ever.
She embraced me, and I received my pardon; but alas! it was without the hope of again becoming guilty.
As the following piece appears to be written by the same author, I have also translated it from the Greek, and placed it here.
CUPID DISTRESSED.
ONE day being in the Idalian grove with the young Cephisa, I found Cupid asleep hid under the flowers, and sheltered by some branches of myrtle, which gently yielded to the breath of the Zephyrs. The Sports and Laughter, who always follow him, were playing at some distance, and he was alone. Cupid was then in my power: his bow and quiver lay by his side; and, if I had pleased, I could have stole the arms of the God of Love.
Cephisa however took the bow, drew an arrow, and, without my perceiving her, let it fly at me. On which I smiling said, Take a second, give me another wound, for this is too sweet. She resolved to let fly another arrow, but it fell at her feet; and she softly cried, This was the heaviest arrow in the quiver of Love. She then taking it up, shot; and striking me, I bowed, crying, O Cephisa, wouldst thou then bring me to my grave?
She then approached nearer to Cupid. He is in a profound sleep, said she; he is fatigued with shooting his arrows; let us gather some flowers, in order to bind his hands and feet. Oh! I can never consent to it, I returned; for he has always favoured us. I will go, then, said she, take his arms, and let fly an arrow at him with all my strength. But he will awake, said I. Well, let him, said she; what can he do but wound us more? No, no, I returned, do not disturb his repose; we will remain near him, and shall by that means be more inflamed.
Cephisa then took the leaves of myrtle and roses, and cried, I am resolved to cover Cupid with them. The Sports and Laughter sought him, but could not find them, when she threw them upon him, and laughed to see the little God almost buried. But what am I amusing myself about, said she? I must cut his wings, that there may be no more inconstant men upon earth; for this God flies from heart to heart, carrying inconstancy with him. She then took her scissars, sat down, and held in her hand the ends of his golden pinions. I felt my heart struck with fear, and cried, Stop, Cephisa! But she heard me not, and having cut the tip of his wings, left her sciffars, and fled.
When Cupid awoke, he endeavoured to fly; but felt an unaccustomed weight; on seeing the clippings of the feathers scattered among the flowers, he began to weep. But Jupiter perceiving him from high Olympus, sent him a cloud that carried him to the Temple of Gnidus, and laid him on the bosom of Venus. Mother, said he, I beat upon your breast with my wings; they are cut, and what will become of me? Son, said the lovely Cypria, do not weep; stay in my bosom, and do not stir; the warmth you will find there will make them grow again. Do you not see that they are already larger? Embrace me; they grow; you will soon find them as before; I already see the tips of the golden feathers; in another moment—’tis enough, fly, fly, my son. Yes, said he, I am going to venture. He flew; he rested himself near the Goddess; and instantly returned to her bosom. He thence took a second flight; rested at a greater distance; and again returned to the bosom of Venus. He kissed it, she smiled; he kissed it again, and played with her: and at length arose into the air, where he reigns over all nature.
Cupid, to be revenged on Cephisa, has rendered her the most volatile of all the fair; and has caused her to burn every day with a fresh flame. She has loved me; she has loved Daphnis; and she still loves Cleon. Cruel Cupid! it is me whom you punish. I would gladly bear the pain inflicted for her crime: but hast thou not other torments for me to suffer?