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CAISSA
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| Of armies on the chequer'd field array'd, |
| And guiltless war in pleasing form display'd; |
| When two bold kings contend with vain alarms, |
| In ivory this, and that in ebon arms; |
| Sing, sportive maids, that haunt the sacred hill |
| Of Pindus, and the fam'd Pierian rill. |
| Thou, joy of all below, and all above, |
| Mild Venus, queen of laughter, queen of love; |
| Leave thy bright island, where on many a rose |
| And many a pink thy blooming train repose: |
| Assist me, goddess! since a lovely pair |
| Command my song, like thee devinely fair. |
| Near yon cool stream, whose living waters play, |
| And rise translucent in the solar ray; |
| Beneath the covert of a fragrant bower, |
| Where spring's nymphs reclin'd in calm retreat, |
| And envying blossoms crouded round their seat |
| Here Delia was enthron'd, and by her side |
| The sweet Sirena, both in beauty's pride: |
| Thus shine two roses, fresh with early bloom, |
| That from their native stalk dispense perfume; |
| Their leaves unfolding to the dawning day |
| Gems of the glowing mead, and eyes of May. |
| A band of youths and damsels sat around, |
| Their flowing locks with braided myrtle bound; |
| Agatis, in the graceful dance admir'd, |
| And gentle Thyrsis, by the muse inspir'd; |
| With Sylvia, fairest of the mirthful train; |
| And Daphnis, doom'd to love, yet love in vain. |
| Now, whilst a purer blush o'erspreads her cheeks, |
| With soothing accents thus Sirena speaks: |
| "The meads and lawns are ting'd with beamy light, |
| And wakeful larks begin their vocal flight; |
| Whilst on each bank the dewdrops sweetly smile; |
| What sport, my Delia, shall the hours beguile? |
| Whall heavenly notes, prolong'd with various art, |
| Charm the fond ear, and warm the rapturous heart? |
| At distance shall we view the sylvan chace? |
| Or catch with silken lines the finny race?" |
| Then Delia thus: "Or rather, since we meet |
| By chance assembled in this cool retreat, |
| In artful contest let our warlike train |
| Move well-directed o'er the field preside: |
| No prize we need, our ardour to inflame; |
| We fight with pleasure, if we fight for fame." |
| The nymph consents: the maids and youths prepare |
| To view the combat, and the sport to share: |
| But Daphnis most approv'd the bold design, |
| Whom Love instructed, and the tuneful Nine. |
| He rose, and on the cedar table plac'd |
| A polish'd board, with differing colours grac'd; |
| Squares eight times eight in equal order lie; |
| These bright as snow, those dark with sable dye; |
| Like the broad target by the tortoise born, |
| Or like the hide by spotted panthers worn. |
| Then from a chest, with harmless heroes stor'd, |
| O'er the smooth plain two well-wrought hosts he pour'd; |
| The champions burn'd their rivals to assail, |
| Twice eight in black, twice eight in milkwhite mail; |
| In shape and station different, as in name, |
| Their motions various, not their power the same. |
| Say, muse! (for Jove has nought from thee conceal'd) |
| Who form'd the legions on the level field? |
| High in the midst the reverend kings appear, |
| And o'er the rest their pearly scepters rear: |
| One solemn step, majestically slow, |
| They gravely move, and shun the dangerous foe; |
| If e'er they call, the watchful subjects spring, |
| And die with rapture if they save their king; |
| On him the glory of the day depends, |
| He once imprison'd, all the conflict ends. |
| The queens exulting near their consorts stand; |
| Each bears a deadly falchion in her hand; |
| Now here, now there, they bound with furious pride, |
| And thin the trmbling ranks from side to side; |
| Swift as Camilla flying o'er the main, |
| Or lightly skimming o'er the dewy plain: |
| Fierce as they seem, some bold Plebeian spear |
| May pierce their shield, or stop their full career. |
| The valiant guards, their minds on havock bent, |
| Fill the next squares, and watch the royal tent; |
| Tho' weak their spears, tho' dwarfish be their height, |
| Compact they move, the bulwark of the fight, |
| To right and left the martial wings display |
| Their shining arms, and stand in close array. |
| Behold, four archers, eager to advance, |
| Send the light reed, and rush with sidelong glance; |
| Through angles ever they assault the foes, |
| True to the colour, which at first they chose. |
| Then four bold knights for courage-fam'd and speed, |
| Each knight exalted on a prancing steed: |
| Their arching course no vulgar limit knows, |
| Tranverse they leap, and aim insidious blows: |
| Nor friends, nor foes, their rapid force restrain, |
| By on quick bound two changing squares they gain; |
| From varing hues renew the fierce attack, |
| And rush from black to white, from white to black. |
| Four solemn elephants the sides defend; |
| Benearth the load of ponderous towers they bend: |
| In on unalter'd line they tempt the fight; |
| Now crush the left, and now o'erwhelm the right. |
| Bright in the front the dauntless soldiers raise |
| Their polish'd spears; their steely helmets blaze: |
| Prepar'd they stand the daring foe to strike, |
| Direct their progress, but their wounds oblique |
| Now swell th' embattled troups with hostile rage, |
| And clang their shields, impatient to engage; |
| When Daphnis thus: A varied plain behold, |
| Where fairy kings their mimick tents unfold, |
| As Oberon, and Mab, his wayward queen, |
| Lead forth their armies on the daisied green. |
| No mortal hand the wond'rous sport contriv'd, |
| By gods invents, and from gods deriv'd; |
| From them the British nymphs receiv'd the game, |
| And play ech morn beneath the crystal Thame; |
| Hear then the tale, which they to Colin sung, |
| As idling o'er the lucid wave he hung. |
| A lovely dryad rang'd the Thracian wild, |
| Her air enchanting, and her aspect mild: |
| To chase the bounding hart was all her joy, |
| Averse from Hymen, and the Cyprian boy; |
| O'er hills an valleys was her beauty fam'd, |
| And fair Caissa was the damsel nam'd. |
| Mars saw the maid; with deep surprize he gaz'd, |
| Admir'd her shape, and every gesture prais'd: |
| His golden bow the child of Venus bent, |
| And through his breast a piecing arrow sent. |
| The reed was hope; the feathers, keen desire; |
| The point, her eyes; the barbs, ethereal fire. |
| Soon to the nymph he pour'd his tender strain; |
| The haughtly dryad scorn'd his amorous pain: |
| He told his woes, where'er the maid he found, |
| And still he press'd, yet still Caissa frown'd; |
| But ev'n her frowns (ah, what might smiles have done!) |
| Fir'd all his soul, and all his senses won. |
| He left his car, by raging tigers drawn, |
| And lonely wander'd o'er the dusky lawn; |
| Then lay desponding near a murmuring stream, |
| And fair Caissa was his plaintive theme. |
| A naiad heard him from her mossy bed, |
| And through the crystal rais'd her placid head; |
| Then mildly spake: "O thou, whom love inspires, |
| Thy tears will nourish, not allay thy fires. |
| The smiling blossoms drink the pearly dew; |
| And ripening fruit the feather'd race pursue; |
| The scaly shoals devour the silken weeds; |
| Love on our sighs, and on our sorrow feeds. |
| Then weep no more; but, ere thou canst obtain |
| Balm to thy wounds, and solace to thy pain, |
| With gentle art thy martial look beguile; |
| Be mild, and teach thy rugged brow to smile. |
| Canst thou no play, no soothing game devise; |
| To make thee lovely in the damsel's eyes? |
| So may thy prayers assuage the scornful dame, |
| And ev'n Caissa own a mutual frame." |
| Kind nymph, said Mars, thy counsel I approve; |
| Art, only art, her ruthless breast can move. |
| but when? or how? They dark discourse explain: |
| So may thy stream ne'er swell with gushing rain; |
| So may thy waves in one pure current flow, |
| And flowers eternal on thy border blow!" |
| To whom the maid replied with smiling mien: |
| "Above the palace of the Paphian queen |
| Love's brother dwells, a boy of graceful port, |
| By gods nam'd Euphron, and by mortals Sport: |
| Seek him; to faithful ears unfold thy grief, |
| And hope, ere morn return, a sweet relief. |
| His temple hangs below the azure skies; |
| Seest thou yon argent cloud? 'Tis there it lies." |
| This said, she sunk beneath the liquid plain, |
| And sought the mansion of her blue-hair'd train. |
| Meantime the god, elate with heart-felt joy, |
| Had reach'd the temple of the sportful boy; |
| He told Caissa's charms, his kindled fire, |
| The naiad's counsel, and his warm desire. |
| "Be swift, he added, give my passion aid; |
| A god requests." - He spake, and Sport obey'd. |
| He fram'd a tablet of celestial mold, |
| Inlay'd with squares of silver and of gold; |
| Then of two metals form'd the warlike band, |
| That here compact in show of battle stand; |
| He taught the rules that guide the pensive game, |
| And call'd it Cassa from the dryad's name: |
| (Whence Albion's sons, who most its praise confess, |
| Approv'd the play, and nam'd it thoughtful Chess.) |
| The god delighted thank'd indulgent Sport; |
| Then grasp'd the board, and left his airy court. |
| With radiant feet he pierc'd the clouds; nor stay'd, |
| Till in the woods he saw the beauteous maid: |
| Tir'd with the chase the damsel set reclin'd, |
| Her girdle loose, her bosom unconfin'd. |
| He took the figure of a wanton faun, |
| And stood before her on the flowery lawn; |
| Then show'd his tablet: pleas'd the nymph survey'd |
| The lifeless troops in glittering ranks display'd; |
| She ask'd the wily sylvan to explain |
| The various motions of the splendid train; |
| With eager heart she caught the winning lore, |
| And thought ev'n Mars less hateful than before; |
| "What spell," said she, "deceiv'd my careless mind? |
| The god was fair, and I was most unkind." |
| She spoke, and saw the changing faun assume |
| A milder aspect, and a fairer bloom; |
| His wreathing horns, that from his temples grew, |
| Flow'd down in curls of bright celestial hue; |
| The dappled hairs, that veil'd his loveless face, |
| Blaz'd into beams, and show'd a heavenly grace; |
| The shaggy hide, that mantled o'er his breast, |
| Was soften'd to a smooth transparent vest, |
| That through its folds his vigorous bosom show'd, |
| And nervous limbs, where youthful ardour glow'd: |
| (Had Venus view'd him in those blooming charms, |
| Not Vulcan's net had forc'd her from his arms.) |
| With goatlike feet no more he mark'd the ground, |
| But braided flowers his silken sandals bound. |
| the dryad blush'd; and, as he press'd her, smil'd, |
| Whilst all his cares one tender glance beguil'd. |
| He ends: To arms, the maids and striplings cry; |
| To arms, the groves and sounding vales reply. |
| Sirena led to war the swarthy crew, |
| And Delia those that bore the lily's hue. |
| Who first, O muse, began the bold attack; |
| The white refulgent, or the mournful black? |
| Fair Delia first, as favoring lots ordain, |
| Moves her pale legions tow'rd the sable train: |
| From thought to thought her lively fancy flies, |
| Whilst o'er the board she darts her sparkling eyes. |
| At length the warrior moves with haughty strides; |
| Who from the plain the snowy king divides: |
| With equal haste his swarthy rival bounds; |
| His quiver rattles, and his buckler sounds: |
| Ah! hapless youths, with fatal warmth you burn; |
| Laws, ever fix'd, forbid you to return. |
| then from the wing a short-liv'd spearman flies, |
| Unsafely bold, and see! he dies, he dies: |
| The dark-brow'd hero, with one vengeful blow |
| Of life and place deprives his ivory foe. |
| Now rush both armies o'er the burnish'd field, |
| Hurl the swift dart, and rend the bursting shield. |
| Here furious knights on fiery coursers prance, |
| but see! the white-rob'd Amazon beholds |
| Where the dark host its opening van unfolds: |
| Soon as her eye discerns the hostile maid, |
| By ebon shield, and ebon helm betray'd; |
| Seven squares she passed with majestic mien, |
| And stands triumphant o'er the falling queen. |
| Perplex'd, and sorrowing at his consort's fate, |
| The monarch burn'd with rage, despair, and hate: |
| Swift from his zone th' avenging blade he drew, |
| And, mad with ire, the proud virago slew. |
| Meanwhile sweet smiling Delia's wary king |
| Retir'd from fight behind the circling wing. |
| Long time the war in equal balance hung; |
| Till, unforseen, an ivory courser sprung, |
| And, wildly prancing in an evil hour, |
| Attack'd at once the monarch and the tower: |
| Sirena blush'd; for, as the rules requir'd, |
| Her injur'd sovereign to his tent retir'd; |
| Whilst her lost castle leaves his threatening height, |
| And adds new glory to th' exulting knight. |
| At this, pale fear oppress'd the drooping maid, |
| And on her cheek the rose began to fade: |
| A crystal tear, that stood prepar'd to fall, |
| She wip'd in silence, and conceal'd from all; |
| From all but Daphnis; He remark'd her pain, |
| And saw the weakness of her ebon train; |
| Then gently spoke: "Let me your loss supply, |
| And either nobly win, or nobly dir; |
| Me oft has fortune crown'd with fair success, |
| And led to triumph in the fields of Chess." |
| He said: the willing nymph her place resign'd, |
| And sat at distance on the bank reclin'd. |
| Thus when Minerva call'd her chief to arms, |
| And Troy's high turret shook with dire alarms, |
| The Cyprian goddess wounded left the plain, |
| And Mars engag'd a mightier force in vain. |
| Strait Daphnis leads his squadron to the field; |
| (To Delia's arms 'tis ev'n a joy to yield.) |
| Each guileful snare, and subtle art he tries, |
| But finds his heart less powerful than her eyes: |
| Wisdom and strength superior charms obey; |
| And beauty, beauty, wins the long-fought day. |
| By this a hoary chief, on slaughter bent, |
| Approach'd the gloomy king's unguarded tent; |
| Where, late, his consort spread dismay around, |
| Now her dark corse lies bleeding on the ground. |
| Hail, happy youth! they glories not unsung |
| Shall live eternal on the poet's tongue; |
| For thou shalt soon receive a splendid change, |
| And o'er the plain with nobler fury range. |
| The swarthy leaders saw the storm impend, |
| And strove in vain their sovereign to defend: |
| Th' invader wav'd his silver lance in air, |
| And flew like lightning to the fatal square; |
| His limbs dilated in a moment grew |
| To stately height, and widen'd to the view; |
| More fierce his look, more lion-like his mien, |
| Sublime he mov'd, and seem'd a warrior queen. |
| As when the sage on some unfolding plant |
| Has caught a wandering fly, or frugal ant, |
| His hand the microscopic frame applies, |
| And lo! a bright hair'd monster meets his eyes; |
| He sees new plumes in slender cases roll'd; |
| Here stain'd with azure, there bedropp'd with gold; |
| Thus, on the alter'd chief both armies gaze, |
| And both the kings are fix'd with deep amaze. |
| The sword, which arm'd the snow-white maid before, |
| He noew assumes, and hurls the spear no more; |
| The springs indignant on the dark-rob'd band, |
| And knights and archers feel his deadly hand. |
| Now flies the monarch of the sable shield, |
| His legions vanquish'd, o'er the lonely field: |
| So when the morn, by rosy coursers drawn, |
| With pearls and rubies sows the verdant lawn, |
| Whilst each pale star from heaven's blue vault retires, |
| Still Venus gleams, and last of all expires. |
| He hears, where'er he moves, the dreadful sound; |
| Check the deep vales, and Check the woods rebound. |
| No place remains: he sees the certain fate, |
| And yields his throne to ruin, and Checkmate. |
| A brighter blush o'erspreads the damsel's cheeks, |
| And mildly thus the conquer'd stripling speaks: |
| "A double triumph, Delia, hast thou won, |
| By Mars protected, and by Venus' son; |
| The first with conquest crowns thy matchless art, |
| The second points those eyes at Daphnis' heart." |
| She smil'd; the nymphs and amorous youths arise, |
| And own that beauty gain'd the nobler prize. |
| Low in their chest the mimic troops were lay'd, |
| And peaceful slept the sable hero's shade. |
|
William Jones, 1763 |