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Or long before, with early valour, ftrove
In youthful arms t' affert the cause of Jove.
And thou, great heir of all thy father's fame,
Increase of glory to the Latin name!

O, blefs thy Rome with an eternal reign,
Nor let defiring worlds entreat in vain.

What though the ftars contract their heavenly
Space,

And crowd their fhining ranks to yield thee place;
Though all the fkies, ambitious of thy fway,
Confpire to court thee from our world away;
Though Phoebus longs to mix his rays with thine,
And in thy glories more ferenely shine;
Though Jove himself no less content would be
To part his throne, and fhare his heaven with thee;
Yet ftay, great Cæfar! and vouchsafe to reign
O'er the wide earth, and o'er the watery main;
Refign to Jove his empire of the skies,
And people heaven with Roman deitics.

The time will come, when a diviner flame
Shall warm my breaft to fing of Cæfar's fame:
Meanwhile permit, that my preluding muse
In Theban wars an humbler theme may choose :
Of furious hate furviving death, the fings,
A fatal throne to two contending kings,
And funeral flames, that parting wide in air
Exprefs the difcord of the fouls they bear:
Of towns difpeopled, and the wandering ghosts
Of kings unbury'd in the wafted coats;
When Dirce's fountain blufh'd with Grecian blood,
And Thetis, near Ifmenos' fwelling flood,
With dread beheld the rolling furges (weep,
In heaps, his flaughter'd fons into the deep.
What hero, Clio wilt thou first relate?
The rage of Tydeus, or the prophet's fate?
Or how, with hills of flain on every fide,
Hippomedon repell'd the hoftile tide?

Or how the youth, with every grace adorn'd,
Untimely fell, to be for ever mourn'd?
Then to fierce Capaneus thy verse extend,
And fing with horror his prodigious end.

Now wretched Oedipus, depriv'd of fight,
Led a long death in everlasting night;
But, while he dwells where not a cheerful ray
Can pierce the darkness, and abhors the day,
The clear reflecting mind prefents his fin
la frightful views, and makes it day within;
Returning thoughts in endless circles roll,
And thousand furies haunt his guilty foul;
The wretch then lifted to th' unpitying fkies
Those empty orbs from whence he tore his eyes,
Whofe wounds, yet fresh, with bloody hands he
ftrook,

While from his breast these dreadful accents broke:
Ye gods that o'er the gloomy regions reign,
Where guilty fpirits feel eternal pain;
Thou, fable Styx whofe livid ftreams are roll'd
Through dreary coafts, which I, though blind, be-
hold:

Tifphone, that oft has heard my prayer,
Affilt, if Oedipus deferve thy care!
If you receiv'd me from Jocafta's womb,
And nurs'd the hope of mifchiefs yet to come:
If leaving Polybus, I took my way
To Cyrrha's temple, on that fatal day,

When by the fon the trembling father dy'd,
Where the three roads the Phocian fields divide a
If I the Sphynx's riddles durft explain,
Taught by thyfelf to win the promis'd reign:
If wretched 1, by baleful furies led,
With monftrous mixture ftain'd my mother's bed,
For hell and thee begot an impious brood,
And with full luft thofe horrid joys renew'd;
Then felf-condemn'd to fhades of endless night,
Forc'd from thefe orbs the bleeding balls of fight a
O, hear, and aid the vengeance I require,
If worthy thee, and what thou mightft infpire!
My fons their old unhappy fire delpife,

poil'd of his kingdom, and depriv'd of eyes;
Guideles I wander, unregarded mourn,
While thefe exalt their fceptres o'er my urn;
Thefe fons, ye gods! who, with flagitious pride,
Infult my darkness, and my groans deride.
Art thou a father, unregarding Jove?

And fleeps thy thunder in the realms above?
Thou fury, then, fome lafting curle entail,
Which o'er their children's children fhall prevail
Place on their heads that crown diftain'd with gore,
Which thofe dire hands from my flain father tore;
Go, and a parent's heavy curfes bear;
Break all the bonds of nature, and prepare
Their kindred fouls to mutual hate and war.
Give them to dare, what I might wish to fee,
Blind as I am, fome glorious villany!

Soon fhalt thou find, if thou but arm their hands,
Their ready guilt preventing thy commands:
Could't thou fome great, proportion'd mifchief
frame,

They'd prove the father from whofe loins they came.
The Fury heard, while on Cocytus' brink
Her fnakes unty'd fulphureous warers drink;
But at the fummons roll'd her eyes around,
And fnatch'd the starting ferpents from the ground.
Not half fo fwiftly fhoots along in air

The gliding lightning, or defcending far. [flight.
Through crowds of airy fhades the wing'd her
And dark dominions of the filent night;
Swift as the pafs'd, the flitting ghofts withdrew,
And the pale fpectres trembled at her view:
To th' iron gates of Tænarus the flies,
There fpreads her dufky pinions to the skies.
The day beheld, and, fickening at the fight,
Veil'd her fair glories in the fhades of night.
Affrighted Atlas, on the distant shore,
Trembled, and hook the heavens and gods he

bore.

Now from beneath Malea's airy height
Aloft the fprung, and fteer'd to Thebes her flight;
With eager fpeed the well-known journey took,
Nor here regrets the hell fhe late forfook.
A hundred fnakes her gloomy vifage fhade,
A hundred ferpents guard her horrid head,
In her funk eye-balls dreadful meteors glow:
Such rays from Phabe's bloody circles flow,
When, labouring with ftrong charms, the shoots
from high

A fiery gleam, and reddens all the sky.
Blood ftain'd her cheeks, and from her mouth
there

came

Blue fteaming poifons, and a length of flame.

From every blaft of her contagious breath,
Famine and drought proceed, and plagues, and

death.

A robe obscene was o'er her shoulders thrown,
A drefs by fates and furies worn alone.

She tofs'd her meagre arms; her better hand
In waving circles whirl'd a funeral brand:
A ferpent from her left was feen to rear
His flaming creft, and lash the yielding air.

But when the Fury took her ftand on high,
Where vaft Citharon's top falutes the sky,
A hifs from all the fnaky tire went round;
The dreadful fignal all the rocks rebound,
And through th' Achaian cities send the found.,
Oete, with high Parnaffus, heard the voice;
Eurotas' banks remurmur'd to the noise;
Again Leucothoë fhook at these alarms,
And prefs'd Palæmon clofer in her arms.
Headlong from thence the glowing Fury springs,
And o'er the Theban palace fpreads her wings,
Once more invades the guilty dome, and fhrouds
Its bright pavilions in a veil of clouds.
Straight with the rage of all their race poffefs'd,
Stung to the foul, the brothers start from reft,
And all their furies wake within their breast.
Their tortur'd minds repining Envy tears,
And Hate, engender'd by fufpicious fears;
And facred thirst of sway; and all the ties
Of nature broke; and royal perjuries;
And impotent Defire to reign alone,
That fcorns the dull reversion of a throne;
Each would the fweets of fovereign rule devour,
While Difcord waits upon divided power.

As ftubborn steers by brawny ploughmen broke,
And join'd reluctant to the galling yoke,
Alike difdain with fervile necks to bear

Th' unwonted weight, or drag the crooked share,
But rend the reins, and bound a different way,
And all the furrows in confufion lay;
Such was the difcord of the royal pair,
Whom fury drove precipitate to war.
In vain the chiefs contriv'd a fpecious way,
To govern Thebes by their alternate sway:
Unjuft decree! while this enjoys the state,
That mourns in exile his unequal fate,
And the short monarch of a hafty year
Forefees with anguifh his returning heir.
Thus did the league their impious arms reftrain,
But fcarce fubfifted to the second reign.

Yet then, no proud afpiring piles were rais'd,
No fretted roofs with polish'd metals blaz'd;
No labour'd columns in long order plac'd,
No Grecian ftone the pompous arches grac'd;
No nightly bands in glittering armour wait
Before the fleepless tyrant's guarded gate;
No chargers then were wrought in burnish'd gold.
Nor filver vafes took the forming mould;
Nor gems on bowls embofs'd were feen to shine,
Blaze on the brims, and sparkle in the wine-
Say, wretched rivals! what provokes your rage?
Say, to what end your impious arms engage?
Not all bright Phoebus views in early morn,
Or when his evening beams the weft adorn,
When the fouth glows with his meridian ray,
And the cold north receives a fainter day;

For crimes like thefe, not all those realms fuffice, Were all thofe realms the guilty victor's prize!

But fortune now (the lots of empire thrown) Decrees to proud Eteocles the crown:

What joys, oh tyrant! fwell'd thy foul that day,
When all were flaves thou couldst around furvey,
Pleas'd to behold unbounded power thy own,
And fingly fill a fear'd and envy'd throne!
But the vile vulgar, ever difcontent,
Their growing fears in fecret murmurs vent;
Still prone to change, though still the slaves of state,
And fure the monarch whom they have, to hate;
New lords they madly make, then tamely bear,
And foftly curfe the tyrants whom they fear.
And one of those who groan beneath the fway
Of kings impos'd, and grudgingly obey,
(Whom envy to the great and vulgar spite
With fcandal arm'd, th' ignoble mind's delight)
Exclaim'd-O Thebes! for thee what fates remain
What woes attend this inaufpicious reign!
Muft we, alas! our doubtful necks prepare,
Each haughty mafters yoke by turns to bear,
And ftill to change whom chang'd we ftill must
fear?

Thefe now controul a wretched people's fate,
Thefe can divide, and these reverse the state:
Ev'n fortune rules no more :-O fervile land,
Where exil'd tyrants ftill by turns command:
Thou fire of gods and men, imperial Jove!
Is this th' eternal doom decreed above?
On thy own offspring haft thou fix'd this fate,
From the first birth of our unhappy state;
When banish'd Cadmus, wandering o'er the main,
For loft. Europa fearch'd the world in vain,
And, fated in Baotion fields to found

A rifing empire on a foreign ground,

Firft rais'd our walls on that ill-omen'd plain,
Where earth-born brothers were by brothers flain?
What lofty looks th' unrival'd monarch bears!
How all the tyrant in his face appears!
What fullen fury clouds his fcornful brow?
Gods! how his eyes with threatening ardour glow!
Can this imperious lord forget to reign,
Quit all his ftate, defcend, and ferve again?
Yet who, before, more popularly bow'd,
Who more propitious to the fuppliant crowd?
Patient of right, familiar in the throne?
What wonder then? he was not then alone.
O wretched we, a vile fubmiffive train,
Fortune's tame fools, and flaves in every reign!

As when two winds with rival force contend,
This way and that, the wavering fails they bend,
While freezing Boreas and black Eurus blow,
Now here, now there, the reeling vellel throw:
Thus, on each fide, alas! our tottering ftate
Feels all the fury of refiftless fate;

And doubtful ftill, and still distracted stands,
While that prince threatens, and while this cam-
And now th' almighty father of the gods [mands.
Convenes a council in the bleft abodes:
Far in the bright receffes of the skies,
High o'er the rolling heavens, a manfion lies,
Whence, far below, the gods at once farvey
The realms of riding and declining day, (fea
And all th' extended pace of earth, and air, and

Full in the midft, and on a starry throne,
The majesty of heaven fuperior fhone;
Serene he look'd, and gave an awful nod,
And all the trembling spheres confefs'd the God.
At Jove's aflent, the deities around
In folemn state the confiftory crown'd.
Next a long order of inferior powers
Afcend from hills, and plains, and fhady bowers;
Those from whofe urns the rolling rivers flow;
And those that give the wandering winds to blow:
Here all their rage, and ev'n their murmurs ceafe,
And facred filence reigns, and universal peace.
A fhining fynod of majestic gods
Gilds with new luftre the divine abodes;
Heaven seems improv'd with a fuperior ray,
And the bright arch reflects a double day.
The monarch then his folemn filence broke,
The fill creation liftened while he spoke;
Each facred accent bears eternal weight.
And each irrevocable word is fate.

How long shall man the wrath of Heaven defy,
And force unwilling vengeance from the sky!
Oh race confederate into crimes, that prove
Triumphant o'er th' eluded rage of Jove!
This weary arm can scarce the bolt sustain,
And unregarded thunder rolls in vain:
Th' o'erlabour'd Cyclop from his task retires;
Th' Eolien forge exhaufted of its fires,
For this I fuffer'd Phœbus' steeds to firay,
And the mad ruler to misguide the day,
When the wide earth to heaps of ashes turn'd,
And heaven itfelf the wandering chariot burn'd.
For this, my brother of the watery reign
Releas'd th' impetuous fluices of the main :
But flames confum'd, and billows rag'd in vain.,
Two races now, ally'd to Jove, offend:
To punish thefe, fee Jove himself defcend.
The Theban kings their line from Cadmus trace,
From godlike Perfeus thofe of Argive race.
Unhappy Cadmus' fate who does not know,
And the long feries of fucceeding woe?
How oft the furies, from the deeps of night,
Arole, and mix'd with men in mortal fight:
Th' exulting mother, stain'd with filial blood;
The favage hunter, and the haunted wood?
The direful banquet why should I proclaim,
And crimes that grieve the trembling gods to
name?

Ere I recount the fins of these profane,
The fun would fink into the western main,
And rifing gild the radiant east again.
Have we not feen (the blood of Laius shed)
The murdering fon afcend his parent's bed,
Through violated nature force his way,
And ftain the facred womb where once he lay?
Yet now in darkness and despair he groans,
And for the crimes of guilty fate atones;
His fons with fcorn their eyelefs father view,
Infult his wounds, and make them bleed anew.
Thy curfe, oh! Oedipus, juft heaven alarms,
And lets th' avenging thunderer in arms.
I from the root thy guilty race will tear,
And give the nations to the waste of war.
Adrattus foon, with gods averie, fhall join
dire alliance with the Theban line;

Hence frife shall rife, and mortal war fucceed;
The guilty realms of Tantalus fhall bleed :
Fix'd is their doom; this all-remembering breaft
Yet harbours vengeance for the tyrant's feast.

He faid; and thus the queen of heaven re-
turn'd

(With fudden grief her labouring bosom burn'd):
Muft 1, whose cares Phoroneus' towers defend,
Muft I, oh Jove, in bloody wars contend?
Thou know't thofe regions my protection claim,
Glorious in arms, in riches, and in fame :
Though there the fair Ægyptian heifer fed,
And there deluded Argus flept, and bled;
Though there the brazen tower was storm'd of old,
When Jove defcended in almighty gold.
Yet I can pardon those obscurer rapes,
Those bashful crimes difguis'd in borrow'd shapes;
But Thebes, where, fhining in celeftial charms,
Thou cam'fl triumphant to a`mortal's arms,
When all my glories o'er her limbs were fpread,
And blazing lightnings danc'd around her bed;
Curs'd Thebes the vengeance it deferves may

prove

Ah, why fhould Argos feel the rage of Jove?
Yet, fince thou wilt thy fifter queen controul,
Since ftill the luft of difcord fires thy foul,
Go, raze my Samos, let Mycene fall,
And level with the duft the Spartan wall;
No more let mortals Juno's power invoke,
Her fanes no more with eaftern incense smoke,
Nor victims fink beneath the sacred stroke;
But to your Ifis all my rights transfer,
Let altars blaze and temples fmoke for her;
For her, through Egypt's fruitful clime renown'd,
Let weeping Nilus hear the timbrel found.
But if thou must reform the ftubborn times,
Avenging on the fons the father's crimes,
And from the long records of diftant age
Derive incitements to renew thy rage;
Say, from what period then has Jove defign'd
To date his vengeance; to what bounds confin'd?
Begin from whence, where first Alpheus hides
His wandering ftream, and through the briny

tides

Unmix'd to his Sicilian river glides.

Thy own Arcadians there the thunder claim,
Whole impious rites difgrace the mighty name;
Who raise thy temples where the chariot stood
Of fierce Oenomäus, defil'd with blood;
Where once his fteeds their favage banquet found
And human bones yet whiten all the ground.
Say, can thofe honours please? and canft thou
love
Prefumptuous Crete, that boasts the tomb of Jove!
And shall not Tautalus's kingdom share
Thy wife and fifter's tutelary care?
Reverse, O Jove, thy too fevere decree,
Nor doom to war a race deriv'd from thee;
On impious realms and barbarous kings impofe
Thy plagues, and curfe them with fuch fons as

thofe.

Thus, in reproach and prayer, the queen exprefs'd The rage and grief contending in her breast; Unmov'd remain'd the ruler of the sky, And from his throne return'd this ftern reply:

While with rich gums the fuming altars blaze,
Salute the god in numerous hymns of praise.

Then thus the king: Perhaps, my noble guefts,
Thefe honour'd altars, and these annual feasts
To bright Apollo's awful nanie defign'd,
Unknown, with wonder may perplex your mind.
Great was the caufe; our old folemnities
From no blind zeal or fond tradition rife;...
But, fav'd from death, our Argives yearly pay
Thefe grateful honours to the God of day.

When by a thousand darts the Python slain With orbs unroll'd lay covering all the plain, (Transfix'd as o'er Caftalia's streams he hung, And fuck'd new poifons with his triple tongue) To Argos' realms the victor god reforts, And enters old Crotopus' humble courts. This rural prince one only daughter blefs'd, That all the charms of blooming youth poffefs'd; Fair was her face, and fpotlefs was her mind, Where filial love with virgin fweetnefs join'd. Happy! and happy ftill the might have prov'd,' Were the lefs beautiful, or lefs belov'd!

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But Phœbus lov'd, and on the flowery fide;
Of Nemea's stream the yielding fair enjoy'd;
Now, e'er ten moons their orb with light adorn,
Th' illuftrious offspring of the God was born;
The nymph, her father's anger to evade,
Retires from Argos to the fylvan shade;
To woods and wilds the pleafing burden bears,
And trufts her infant to a fhepherd's cares.

How mean a fate, unhappy child, is thine!
Ah, how unworthy thofe of race divine!
On flowery herbs in fome green covert laid,
His bed the ground, his canopy the fhade,
He mixes with the bleeting lambs his cries,
While the rude fwain his rural music tries,
To call foft flumber on his infant eyes.
Yet even in those obfcure abodes to live,
Was more, alas! than cruel fate would give;
For on the graffy verdure as he lay,
And breath'd the frefhnefs of the early day,
Devouring dogs the helpless infant tore,
Fed on his trembling limbs, and lapp'd the gore.
Th' aftonifh'd mother, when the rumour came,
Forgets her father, and neglects her fame,
With loud complaints fhe fills the yielding air,
And beats her breafts, and rends her flowing hair;
Then wild with anguish to her fire fhe flies,
Demands the fentence, and contented dies.

But, touch'd with forrow for the dead too late, The raging god prepares t' avenge her fate. He fends a monfter, horrible and fell, Begot by furies in the depths of hell. The peft a virgin's face and bofom bears; High on a crown a rifing fnake appears, Guards her black front, and hiffes in her hairs:. About the realm the walks her dreadful round, When night with fable wings o'erfpreads the ground,

Devours young babes before their parents eyes, And feeds and thrives on public miferies.

But generous rage the bold Chorœbus warms, Chorobus, fam'd for virtue, as for arms; Some few like him, infpir'd with martial flame, Thought a fhort life well loft for endless fame.

Thefe, where two ways in equal parts divide,
The direful monster from afar defcry'd;
Two bleeding babes depending at her fide,
Whofe panting vitals, warm with life, the draws,
And in their hearts embrues her cruel claws.
The youths furround her with extended spears;
But brave Chorobus in the front appears,
Deep in her breast he plung'd his shining fword,
And hell's dire monfter back to hell reflor'd.
Th' Inachians view the flain with vaft furprise,
Her twisting volumes, and her rolling eyes,
Her spotted breaft, and gaping womb embru'd
With livid poifon, and our children's blood.
The crowd in ftupid wonder fix'd appear,
Pale ev'n in joy, nor yet forget to fear.
Some with vaft beams the fqualid corpfe em
emé
gage,

And weary all the wild efforts of rage,
The birds obfcene, that nightly flock'd to tafte,
With hollow fcreeches fled the dire repast;
And ravenous dogs, allur'd by fcented blood,
And ftarving wolves ran howling to the wood.
But, fir'd with rage, from cleft Parnaffus' brow
Avenging Phoebus bent his deadly bow,
And hifing flew the feather'd fates below:
A night of fultry clouds involv'd around
The towers, the fields, and the devoted ground:
And now a thousand lives together fled,
Death with his fcythe cut off the fatal thread,
And a whole province in his triumph led.

But Phoebus, afk'd why noxious fires appear,
And raging Sirius blafts the fickly year;
Demands their lives by whom his monster fell,
And dooms a dreadful facrifice to hell..

Bleft be thy duft, and let eternal fame
Attend thy manes, and preferve thy name,
Undaunted hero! who, divinely brave,
In fuch a cause difdain'd thy life to fave:
But view'd the fhrine with a fuperior look,
And its upbraided godhead thus bespoke :

With piety, the foul's fecureft guard,
And confcious virtue, ftill its own reward,
Willing I come, unknowing how to fear;
Nor fhalt thou, Phoebus, find a fuppliant here.
Thy monster's death to me was ow'd alone,
And 'tis a deed too glorious to disown.
Behold him here, for whom, fo many days.
Impervious clouds conceal'd thy fullen rays;
For whom, as man no longer claim'd thy care,
Such numbers fell by peftilential air!
But if th' abandon'd race of human kind
From gods above no more compaffion find;
If fuch inclemency in heaven can dwell,
Yet why muft unoffending Argos feel
The vengeance due to this unlucky fteel?
On me, on me, let all thy fury fall,
Nor err from me, fince I deferve it all:
Unless our defert cities please thy fight,
Or funeral flames reflect a rateful light,
Difcharge thy fhafts, this ready bofom rend,
And to the fhades a ghoft triumphant fend;
But for my country let my fate atone,
Be mine the vengeance, as the crime my own.
Merit diflrefs'd, impartial heaven relieves :
Unwelcome life relenting Phoebus gives;

For not the vengeful power, that glow'd with rage,
With fuch amazing virtue durft engage.
'The clouds difpers'd, Apollo's wrath expir'd,
And from the wondering god th' unwilling youth
retir'd.

Thence we these altars in his temple raise,
And offer annual honours, feafts, and praife;
Thofe folemn feafts propitious Phoebus please:
Thefe honours, ftill renew'd, his ancient wrath ap-
peale.

But fay, illuftrious gueft! (adjoin'd the king) What name you bear, from what high race you fpring?

The noble l'ydeus ftands confefs'd and known
Our neighbour prince, and heir of Calydon.
Relate your fortnnes, while the friendly night
And filent hours to various talk invite.

The Theban bends on earth his gloomy eyes;
Confus'd and fadly thus at length replies :
Before thefe altars how fhall I proclaim
(Oh generous prince!) my nation or my name,
Or through what veins our ancient blood has roll'd?
Let the fad tale for ever reft untold!
Yet if, propitious to a wretch unknown,
You feck to share in forrows not your own;
Know then, from Cadmus I derive my race,
Jocafla's son, and Thebes my native place.
To whom the king (who felt his generous breast
Touch'd with concern for his unhappy guest)
Replies:-Ah why forbears the fon to name
His wretched father, known too well by fame?
Fame, that delights around the world to stray,
Scorns not to take our Argos in her way.
Ev'n thofe who dwell where funs at diftance roll,
In northern wilds, and freeze beneath the pole;
And those who tread the burning Libyan lands,
The faithlefs Syrtes, and the moving fands;
Who view the western fea's extremeft bounds,
Or drink of Ganges in their eastern grounds;
All these the woes of dipus have known,
Your fates, your furies, and your haunted town.
If on the fons the parents' crimes defcend,
What prince from thofe his lineage can defend?
Be this thy comfort, that 'tis thine t'efface
With virtuous acts thy ancestor's difgrace,
And be thyfelf the honour of thy race.
But fee! the stars begin to fteal away,
And thine more faintly at approaching day.
Now pour the wine; and in your tuneful lays
Once more refound the great Apollo's praife.

Oh father Phoebus! whether Lycia's coaft And fnowy mountains thy bright presence boast; Whether to sweet Caftalia thou repair, And bathe in filver dews thy yellow hair; Or, pleas'd to find fair Delos float no more, Delight in Cynthus, and the fhady fhore; Or choose thy feat in Ilion's proud abodes, The fhining structures rais'd by labouring gods; By thee the bow and mortal fhafts are borne; Eternal charms thy blooming youth adorn: Skill'd in the laws of fecret fate above, And the dark counfels of almighty Jove, 'Tis thine the feeds of future war to know, The change of fceptres, and impending wo; VOL. VAIL

| When direful meteors spread through glowing air
Long trails of light, and shake their blazing hair,
Thy rage the Phrygian felt, who durst aspire
T'excel the mufic of thy heavenly lyre;
Thy fhafts aveng'd lewd Tityus' guilty flame,
Th' immortal victim of thy mother's fame;
Thy hand flew Python, and the dame who loft
Her numerous offspring for a fatal boaft.
In Phiegya's doom thy just revenge appears,
Condemn'd to furies and eternal fears;

He views his food, but dreads, with lifted eye,
The mouldering rock that trembles from on high.

Propitious hear our prayer, O power divine!
And on thy hofpitable Argos fhine,
Whether the style of Titan pleaf thee more,
Whofe purple rays th' Achæmenes adore;
Or great Oliris, who firft taught the swain
In Pharian fields, to fow the golden grain;
Or Mitra, to whofe beams the Perfian bows,
And pays, in hollow rocks, his awful vows;
Mitra, whofe head the blaze of light adorns,
Who grafps the struggling heifer's lunar horns.

THE FABLE OF DRYOPE.

From Ovid's Metamorphofes, Book IX.

SHE faid, and for her loft Galanthis fighs,
When the fair confort of her fon replies;
Since you a fervant's ravish'd form bemoan,
And kindly figh for forrows not your own;
Let me (if tears and grief permit) relate
A nearer woe, a filter's ftranger fate.
No nymph of all Oechalia could compare
For beauteous form with Dryope the fair,
Her tender mother's only hope and pride
(Myfelf the offspring of a fecond bride)
This nymph comprefs'd by him who rules the day,
Whom Delphi and the Delian ifle obey,
Andræmon lov'd; and blefs'd in all thofe charms
That pleas'd a god, fucceeded to her arms.

A lake there was, with fhelving banks around,
Whofe verdant fummit fragrant myrties crown'd.
These shades, unknowing of the fates, she fought,
And to the Naiads flowery garlands brought;
Her fmiling babe (a pleafing charge) the preft
Within her arms, and nourish'd at her breaft.
Not diftant far, a watery Lotos grows;
The fpring was new, and all the verdant boughs
Adorn'd with bloffoms, promis'd fruits that vie
In glowing colours with the Tyrian dye:
Of thefe fhe cropp'd to please her infant fon;
And I myself the fame rash act had done,
But lo! I faw (as near her fide I ftood)
The violated bloffoms drop with blood.
Upon the tree I caft a frightful look;
The trembling tree with fudden horror hook.
Lotis the nymph (if rural tales be true),
As from Priapus' lawlefs luft the flew,
Forfook her form; and fixing here became
A flowery plant, which ftill preferves her name.
F

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