Phillis to Demophoon.

By Edward Poley, Esq.

ARGUMENT

Demophoon, who was son to Theseus and Phaedra, in returning from the Trojan war into his own country, was by a tempest driven upon the coast of Thrace, where Phillis, who was the queen of Thrace, entertain’d and marry’d him. When he had stay’d with her some time, he heard that Mnestheus was dead (who, after he had conquer’d Theseus, had usurp’d the government of Athens) and under pretence of settling his own affairs, he went to Athens, and promis’d the queen that he would come back again in a month. When he had been gone four months, and that she had heard no news of him, she writes him this letter.

You’ve gone beyond your time, and ought to give

So kind a wife as Phillis leave to grieve.

You promis’d me you would no longer stay,

That till the first full moon should light your way.

Thrice did it since its borrow’d light renew,

And thrice has chang’d, but not so much as you.

Did you the days, and hours, and minutes, tell,

As Phillis does, and they that love so well,

You’d say, ‘twere time to weep; your sorrows too,

Would justify those tears she sheds for you.

Still did I hope, and thought you’d still be here;

We hardly can believe those things we fear;

Now tis too plain, and spite of love and you,

I must both fear it, and believe it too.

How oft did I deceive myself, and swore

I saw your ship just making to the shore?

Then curs’d those friends I thought had caus’d your stay;

Would you were half so innocent as they.

Sometimes I fear’d by foaming billows tost,

You might be shipwreck’d whilst you sought the coast.

And griev’d t’ have injur’d whom I thought so true,

I begg’d that pardon I’d refused to you,

Then, cruel man! Did I the gods implore

To let you live, tho’ I ne’er saw you more.

When I a favourable gale espy’d,

He comes if he’s alive, he comes, I cry’d.

And thus my love still sought some new pretence,

And I grew eloquent in your defence.

Yet thou avoid’st me still, nor do I see

Those promises thou mad’st to heaven and me.

“but thy false vows, alas! Were all but wind,

“thy vows and wishes made the gale more kind;

“they fill’d our sails, and you were forc’d away

“by the same wishes, which you made to stay”.

What have I done but lov’d to an excess?

You’d not been guilty had I lov’d you less.

My only crime is, loving you too well;

But sure some merit in that crime does dwell.

Where’s now your faith? And where’s the love you bore?

Where are the gods by whom you falsely swore?

Where’s Hymen too, who join’d our tender years?

He bid me love, and banish’d all my fears.#

You swore by th’ swelling billows of the main,

Which you oft try’d, and yet would trust again,

Rather than stay with me tho’ much more kind,

And constant too, than are the seas or wind.

You swore by the great ruler of the flood,

The heav’nly author of your royal blood,

(if e’er a god had any thing to do

in one so false and so unkind as you)

You swore by Venus and the fatal steel

Of those proud darts which too, too much I feel!

And by great Juno, whose resistless art

Gave thee my hand, when I had giv’n my heart.

Thou swor’st so much, that if each god should be

Just to revenge his injur’d self on me,

Such num’rous mischiefs on thy head would fall,

Thou’dst not have room enough to bear them all.

Disctracted, I, as if I’d fear your stay,

Repair’d your ships to hurry you away.

What haste you wanted my curs’d care supply’d,

Ors to your sails and current to your tide.

Thus was I falsely by myself betray’d,

And perish by the wounds my hands have made.

I foolishly believ’d those oaths you swore,

The race you boasted, and the gods you bore.

Who could have thought such gentle words e’er hung,

Upon a treacherous deluding tongue?

I saw your tears and I believ’d them all;

Can they lye too, and are thy taught to fall?

What needed all that num’rous perjury?

One was enough to her that lov’d like me.

I’m not asham’d I did your ships receive,

And your own wants did carefully relieve;

Those debts I ow’d you on a nobler score;

But then, ‘tis true, I should have done no more.

All I repent is, that I basely strove

T’ increase your welcome by a nuptial love.

That night that usher’d in the’ unhappy day,

Which did me to your guilty love betray;

I wish’d that fatal night had been my last;

Then I had dy’d but then I had been chaste.

I hop’d you were, ‘cause I deserv’d you, true!

Is it a crime to wish what is our due?

‘Tis sure no might glory to deceive

A tender maid, so willing to believe.

My weakness does but heighten your offence,

You kindly should have spar’d my innocence.

You’ve gain’d a maid that lov’d you, and may’t be

Your greatest prize, and only victory.

May your proud statue, rais’d by this success,

Shame your great father, ‘cause his crimes were less;

And when late stories shall of tyrants tell,

And who by Sciron, and Procrustes fell;

The Centaurs flight, the Thebans overthrow,

Who ‘twas durst force the dismal shades below;

Then for your honour shall at last be said,

Here’s he, who by a wretched wile betray’d

A loving, innocent believing maid.

Of all those acts, we in your father knew,

His treach’ry alone remains in you.

What only can excuse the ills you do,

You both inherit and admire it too.

He Ariadne did betray, but she

Enjoys a husband mightier far than he;

But the scorn’d Thracians my embraces shun,

‘Cause I from them into they arms did run.

Let her, they cry, to learned Greece be gone,

We’ll find a monarch to supply the throne.

Thus all we do, depends on an ill fate,

Which does for ever on th’ unhappy wait;

But may that fate all his best thoughts attend,

Who judges others actions by the end.

For should’st thou ever bless these seas again,

They’d praise that love of which they now complain.

Then would they say, what could she better do,

Both for herself and for her kingdom too?

But I have err’d, and thou’rt for ever fled,

Forget’st my empire, and forget’st my bed.

Methinks I see thee still, Demophoon,

Thy sails all hoisted ready to be gone.

When boldly thou didst my soft limbs embrace,

And with long kisses dwelt’st upon my face;

Drown’d in my tears, and in your own you lay,

And curs’d the winds that hasten’d you away,

Then parting cry’d (methinks I hear thee still)

Phillis, I’ll come, you may be sure I will.

Can I expect that thou’lt e’er see this shore,

Who left’st it that thou ne’er might’st see me more?

And yet I beg you’d come too, that you may

Be only guilty in too long a stay.

What do I ask? Thou, by new charms possess’d,

Forget’st my kindness on another breast;

And, better to comple’st the treachery,

Swear’st all those oaths which thou has broke to me.

And hast (false man) perhaps forgot my name,

And ask’st too, who I am and whence I came?

But that thou better may’st remember me,

Know, thou ungrateful man, that I am she,

Who when thou’dst wander’d all the ocean o’er,

Harbour’d thy ships and welcom’d thee to shore;

Thy coffers still replenish’d from my own,

And to that height a prodigal was grown,

I gave thee all thou ask’dst and gave so fast,

I gave my self into they pow’r at last;

I gave my sceptre and my crown to thee.

A weight too heavy to be borne by me.

Where Haemus does his shady head display,

And gentle Heber cuts his sacred way,

So great’s the empire and so wide the land,

Scarce to be govern’d by a woman’s hand.

She, whom fate would not suffer to be chaste,

Whose nuptials with a fun’ral pomp was grac’d;

Shrill cries disturb’d us ‘midst our swiftest joys,

And our drawn curtains trembled with the noise;

Then lose to thee I clung all drown’d in fears,

And sought my shelter where I’d found my tears,

And now while others drown their care in sleep,

I run to th’ barren shore and rocks, to weep

And view with longing eyes the spacious deep.

All day and night I the wind’s course survey,

Impatient till I find it blows this way:

And when afar, a coming sail I view,

I thank my stars and I conclude ‘tis you;

Then with strange haste I run my love to meet;

Nor can the flowing waters stop my feet.

When near, I grow more fearful than before,

A sudden trembling seizes me all o’er,

And leaves my body breathless on the shore.

Hard by, where two huge mountains guard the way,

There lies a fearful, solitary bay;

Oft I’ve resolv’d, while on this place I’ve stood,

To throw myself into the raging flood;

Wild with despair, and I will do it still,

Since you continue thus to use me ill.

And when the kinder waves shall waft me o’er,

May’st thou behold my body on the shore

Unburied lie; and though thy cruelty

Harder than stone, or than thyself should be,

Yet shalt thou cry, astonish’d with the show,

Phillis, I was not to be follow’d so.

Raging with poisons would I oft expire,

And quench my own by a much happier fire.

Then, to revenge the loss of all my rest,

Would stab thy image in my tortur’d breast.

Or by a knot (more welcome far to me

Than that, false man, which I have ty’d with thee),

Strangle that neck, where those false arms of thine,

With treach’rous kindness, us’d so oft to twine;

And as becomes a poor unhappy wife,

Repair my ruin’d honour with my life.

When we can once with our hard fate comply,

‘Tis easy then to chuse the way to die.

Then on the tomb shall the proud cause be read,

And thy sad crime still live when I am dead:

‘poor Phillis dy’d, by him she lov’d oppress’d;

‘the truest mistress, by the falsest guest.

‘he was the cruel cause of all her woe,

‘but her own hand perform’d the fatal blow.’

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