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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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That, for his love, he proffer'd to bestow His tuneful harp and his unerring bow. The pious youth, more studious how to save His aged sire, now sinking to the grave, Preferr'd the pow'r of plants, and silent praise Of healing arts, before Phoebean bays. Propp'd on his lance the pensive hero stood, And heard and saw, unmov'd, the mourning crowd. The fam'd physician tucks his robes around With ready hands, and hastens to the wound. With gentle touches he performs his part, This way and that, soliciting the dart, And exercises all his heav'nly art. All soft'ning simples, known of sov'reign use, He presses out, and pours their noble juice. These first infus'd, to lenify the pain, He tugs with pincers, but he tugs in vain. Then to the patron of his art he pray'd: The patron of his art refus'd his aid. Meantime the war approaches to the tents; Th' alarm grows hotter, and the noise augments: The driving dust proclaims the danger near; And first their friends, and then their foes appear: Their friends retreat; their foes pursue the rear. The camp is fill'd with terror and affright: The hissing shafts within the trench alight; An undistinguish'd noise ascends the sky, The shouts those who kill, and groans of those who die. But now the goddess mother, mov'd with grief, And pierc'd with pity, hastens her relief. A branch of healing dittany she brought, Which in the Cretan fields with care she sought: Rough is the stern, which woolly leafs surround; The leafs with flow'rs, the flow'rs with purple crown'd, Well known to wounded goats; a sure relief To draw the pointed steel, and ease the grief. This Venus brings, in clouds involv'd, and brews Th' extracted liquor with ambrosian dews, And odorous panacee. Unseen she stands, Temp'ring the mixture with her heav'nly hands, And pours it in a bowl, already crown'd With juice of med'c'nal herbs prepar'd to bathe the wound. |
