In the happy period of the golden age, when all the celestial
inhabitants descended to the earth, and conversed familiarly with
mortals, amongst the most cherished of the heavenly powers were twins,
the offspring of Jupiter, Love and Joy. Wherever they appeared, the
flowers sprung up beneath their feet, the sun shone with a brighter
radiance, and all nature seemed embellished by their presence. They were
inseparable companions, and their growing attachment was favoured by
Jupiter, who had decreed that a lasting union should be solemnized
between them as soon as they were arrived at maturer years. But in the
mean time the sons of men deviated from their native innocence; Vice and
Ruin overran the earth with giant strides; and Astrea, with her train of
celestial visitants forsook their polluted abodes. Love alone remained,
having been stolen away by Hope, who was his nurse, and conveyed by her
to the forests of Arcadia, where he was brought up among the shepherds.
But Jupiter assigned him a different partner, and commanded him to
espouse Sorrow, the daughter of Até. He complied with reluctance; for
her features were harsh and disagreeable, her eyes sunk, her forehead
contracted into perpetual wrinkles; and her temples were covered with a
wreath of cypress and wormwood. From this union sprung a virgin, in whom
might be traced a strong resemblance to both her parents; but the sullen
and unamiable features of her mother were so mixed and blended with the
sweetness of her father, that her countenance, though mournful, was
highly pleasing. The maids and shepherds of the neighbouring plains
gathered round, and called her Pity. A red-breast was observed to build
in the cabin where she was born; and while she was yet an infant, a dove
pursued by a hawk flew into her bosom. This nymph had a dejected
appearance, but so soft and gentle a mien, that she was beloved to a
degree of enthusiasm. Her voice was low and plaintive, but inexpressibly
sweet; and she loved to lie for hours together on the banks of some wild
and melancholy stream, singing to her lute.--She taught men to weep, for
she took a strange delight in tears; and often, when the virgins of the
hamlet were assembled at their evening sports, she would steal in
amongst them, and captivate their hearts by her tales of charming
sadness. She wore on her head a garland composed of her father's
myrtles, twisted with her mother's cypress.
Pity was commanded by Jupiter to follow the steps of her mother through
the world, dropping balm into the wounds she made, and binding up the
hearts she had broken. She goes with her hair loose, her bosom bare and
throbbing, her garments torn by briars, and her feet bleeding with the
roughness of the path. The nymph is mortal, for her mother is so; and
when she has filled her destined course upon the earth, they shall both
expire together, and Love be again united to Joy, his immortal and
long-betrothed bride.
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