The fame of this, perhaps, through Crete had flown,
But Crete had newer wonders of her own,
In Iphis changed; for near the Gnossian bounds
(As loud report the miracle resounds),
At Phaestus dwelt a man of honest blood,
But meanly born, and not so rich as good,
Esteem’d and loved by all the neighbourhood,
Who, to his wife, before the time assign’d
For childbirth came, thus bluntly spoke his mind:
“If heaven,” 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, they prove of little worth,
Weak, puling things, unable to sustain
Their share of labour, and their bread to gain.
If, therefore, thou a creature shalt produce,
Of so great charges, and so little use
(Bear witness, heaven, with what reluctancy),
Her helpless innocence I doom to die.”
He said; and tears the common grief display,
Of him who bade, and her who must obey.
Yet Telethusa still persists, to find
Fit arguments to move a father’s mind,
To extend his wishes to a larger scope,
And in one vessel not confine his hope.
Lygdus continues hard: her time drew near,
And she her heavy load could scarcely bear,
When slumbering, in the latter shades of night,
Before the approaches of returning light,
She saw, or thought she saw, before her bed,
A glorious train, and Isis at their head:
Her moony horns were on her forehead placed,
And yellow sheaves her shining temples graced;
A mitre, for a crown, she wore on high;
The dog and dappled bull were waiting by;
Osiris, sought along the banks of Nile:
The silent god; the sacred crocodile;
And, last, a long procession moving on
With timbrels, that assist the labouring moon.
Her slumbers seem’d dispell’d, and, broad awake,
She heard a voice that thus distinctly spake:
“My votary, thy babe from death defend,
Nor fear to save whate’er the gods will send.
Delude with art thy husband’s dire decree;
When danger calls, repose thy trust on me,
And know thou hast not served a thankless deity.”
This promise made, with night the goddess fled;
With joy the woman wakes and leaves her bed,
Devoutly lifts her spotless hands on high,
And prays the powers their gifts to ratify.
Now grinding pains proceed to bearing throes,
Till its own weight the burden did disclose.
’Twas of the beauteous kind, and brought to light
With secrecy, to shun the father’s sight;
The indulgent mother did her care employ,
And pass’d it on her husband for a boy.
The nurse was conscious of the fact alone.
The father paid his vows as for a son,
And call’d him Iphis, by a common name,
Which either sex with equal right may claim.
Iphis his grandsire was; the wife was pleased,
Of half the fraud by Fortune’s favour eased.
The doubtful name was used without deceit,
And truth was cover’d with a pious cheat;
The habit show’d a boy, the beauteous face
With manly fierceness mingled female grace.
Now thirteen years of age were swiftly run,
When the fond father thought the time drew on
Of settling in the world his only son.
Ianthe was his choice, so wondrous fair,
Her form alone with Iphis could compare,
A neighbour’s daughter of his own degree,
And not more bless’d with fortune’s goods than he.
They soon espoused; for they with ease were join’d,
Who were before contracted in the mind;
Their age the same, their inclinations too,
And bred together, in one school they grew.
Thus, fatally disposed to mutual fires,
They felt, before they knew, the same desires;
Equal their flame, unequal was their care,
One loved with hope, one languish’d in despair;
And, scarce refraining tears, “Alas,” said she,
“What issue of my love remains for me!
How wild a passion works within my breast!
With what prodigious flames am I possess’d!
Could I the care of Providence deserve,
Heaven must destroy me, if it would preserve;
And that’s my fate, or sure it would have sent
Some usual evil for my punishment:
Not this unkindly curse, to rage and burn,
Where nature shows no prospect of return.
“And yet no guards against our joys conspire,
No jealous husband hinders our desire,
My parents are propitious to my wish,
And she herself consenting to the bliss;
All things concur to prosper our design,
All things to prosper any love but mine.
Heaven has been kind, as far as Heaven can be,
Our parents with our own desires agree;
But Nature, stronger than the gods above,
Refuses her assistance to my love;
She sets the bar that causes all my pain:
One gift refused makes all their bounty vain
And now the happy day is just at hand
To bind our hearts in Hymen’s holy band.”
Thus lovesick Iphis her vain passion mourns,
With equal ardour fair Ianthe burns,
Invoking Hymen’s name, and Juno’s power,
To speed the work, and haste the happy hour.
She hopes, while Telethusa fears the day,
And strives to interpose some new delay,
Now feigns a sickness, now is in a fright
For this bad omen, or that boding sight.
But having done whate’er she could devise,
And emptied all her magazine of lies,
The time approach’d, the next ensuing day
The fatal secret must to light betray.
Then Telethusa had recourse to prayer,
She, and her daughter, with dishevell’d hair;
Trembling with fear, great Isis they adored,
Embraced her altar, and her aid implored.
“Fair queen, who dost on fruitful Egypt smile,
Who sway’st the sceptre of the Pharian isle,
And sevenfold falls of disemboguing Nile,
Relieve, in this our last distress,” she said,
“A suppliant mother, and a mournful maid.
Thou, goddess, thou wert present to my sight;
Reveal’d I saw thee by thy own fair light;
I saw thee, in my dream, as now I see,
With all thy marks of awful majesty,
The glorious train that compass’d thee around,
And heard the hollow timbrels’ holy sound.
Thy words I noted, which I still retain,
Let not thy sacred oracles be vain.
That Iphis lives, that I myself am free
From shame and punishment, I owe to thee.
On thy protection all our hopes depend;
Thy counsel saved us, let thy power defend.”
Her tears pursued her words, and, while she spoke,
The goddess nodded, and her altar shook;
The temple doors, as with a blast of wind,
Were heard to clap; the lunar horns, that bind
The brows of Isis, cast a blaze around,
The trembling timbrel made a murm’ring sound.
Some hopes these happy omens did impart,
Forth went the mother with a beating heart,
Not much in fear, nor fully satisfied;
But Iphis follow’d with a larger stride:
The whiteness of her skin forsook her face,
Her looks imbolden’d with an awful grace;
Her features and her strength together grew,
And her long hair to curling locks withdrew;
Her sparkling eyes with manly vigour shone;
Big with her voice, audacious was her tone.
The maid becomes a youth. No more delay
Your vows, but look, and confidently pay.
Their gifts the parents to the temple bear,
The votive tables this inscription wear:
“Iphis, the man, has to the goddess paid
The vows that Iphis offer’d when a maid.”
Now, when the star of day had shown his face,
Venus and Juno with their presence grace
The nuptial rites, and Hymen, from above,
Descending to complete their happy love;
The gods of marriage lend their mutual aid,
And the fond youth obtains the lovely maid.