low.

A grateful smoke, and weep in fragrant dews. Above from heaps of gold bright colours stream, And deeper purple shoots a sanguine gleam.

Inwoven on the pall, young Linus lay In lonely woods, to mangling dogs a prey. Heart-wounded at the sight, in anguish stands Eurydice, and spreads her trembling hands; Then turns, her eyes, half dying with a groan, For kindred miseries so like her own. Arms, scepters, jewels, on the dead they throw, And sacrifice all grandeur to their woe. As if the hero, deck'd with warlike spoil, Was borne in triumph to the fun'ral pyle. Yet as due rites, with kind affection paid, Can add some honours to the infant-shade; Hence rose magnificence, and solemn tears, With presents suited to maturer years.

Long time with early hopes Lycurgus fed A breed of coursers sacred to the dead. A glitt'ring helm was safely plac'd apart, And purple trappings of Sidonian art: And consecrated spears, (a deadly store) Radiant and keen, as yet unstain'd with gore. The pious mother thus, deceiv'd too late Like her fond spouse, reserv'd a crown of state, And royal robes, o'erwrought with rising flow'rs; The silent growth of solitary hours. These and the rest at once, the furious sire Dooms in distraction to the greedy fire.

Meanwhile, assembled by the seer's commands, To raise the pyre, crowd thick the Grecian bands,

From Nemee these, and Tempe's lofty crown,
Tumble whole heaps of crashing forests down:
Their airy brows the naked hills display,
And earth once more beholds the face of day.
Deep groan the groves: on ruffling pinions rise
Birds after birds; the angry savage flies.
Sacred through time, from age to age it stood,
A wide-spread, gloomy, venerable wood;
Older than man, and ev'ry sylvan maid,
Who haunts the grot, or skims along the glade.
Stretch'd o'er the ground the tow'ring oaks were

scen,

The foodful beech, and cypress ever green :
The nuptial elm, and mountain-holm entire,
The pitchy tree that feeds the fun'ral fire:
The resin soft, and solitary yew,

For ever dropping with unwholesome dew;
The poplar trembling o'er the silver flood,
The warrior ash that reeks in hostile blood,
Th' advent'rous fir that sails the vast profound,
And pine, fresh bleeding from th' odorous
wound-

All at one time the nodding forests bend,
And with a crash together all descend,
Loud as when blust'ring Boreas issues forth,

Sudden and swift as kindling flames arise,
Float o'er the fields, and blaze unto the skies.
The sinking grove resounds with frequent groans,
Sylvanus starts, and hoary Pales moans.
Trembling and slow the guardian-nymphs retire,
Or clasp the tree, and perish in the fire.

So when some chief (the city storm'd) com-
mands

Revenge and plunder to his furious bands:
Ere yet he speaks the domes in ruin lay;
They strike, they level, seize and bear away,
Sacred to Heav'n and Hell, the mourners rear
Two massy altars, pointing in the air.
The pious rites begin, in mournful strains
The music of the Phrygian fife complains;
Whose pow'rful sounds th' unwilling ghosts obey,
And, pale and shiv'ring, mount the realms of day.
First Pelops taught these melancholy strains,
When Niobe's fond offspring prest the plains:
Six blooming youths, and six fair virgins fell,
Sent by fierce Cynthia to the shades of Hell.

Incence and oil upon the pile they throw,
And mighty monarchs mighty gifts bestow.
High-rais'd in air the mournful bier is born,
Dejected chiefs Lycurgus' train adorn;
The female sex around the mother crowd,
And weep and sob, and vent their griefs aloud:
Behind, Hypsipyle's soft sorrows flow
Silent, and fast, in eloquence of woe.
Each heaving bosom draws a deeper sigh,
And the big passion bursts from ev'ry eye.
Thus while the crystal tears unbounded ran,
In piercing shrieks Eurydice began.

"Ah! dearest child! amid these mournful
dames

I never thought to give thee to the flames!
How could I dream of sorrows and of death
In the first moments of thy infant breath?
How could I dread these bloody wars to see;
Or deem that Thebes should ever murder thee?
What sudden vengeance wing'd with wrath di-
Pursues me still, and curses all my line? [vine
Yet Cadmus' sons in ease and plenty live,
Blest with each joy th' indulging pow'rs can give;
No mourning dames in sable weeds appear,
To bathe the last cold ashes with a tear.

"Wretch that I was, too fondly to believe
A faithless slave, a wand'ring fugitive!
Pious she told the melancholy tale
With fair invention, pow'rful to prevail;
Is this that guardian of the Lemnian state,
Who snatch'd her father from the jaws of fate?

"Ah no! herself the bloody furies join'd,
And vow'd like those, destruction to mankind!
Is this her care; to leave in woods alone
Her prince, nay more, an infant not her own?
Suppose through pity or neglect she stray'd,
(While my dear child lay trembling in the shade)
Unknowing of the monsters wild and vast,
Who haunt the gloomy groves, or dreary waste;
Each murm'ring fount that quivers to the breeze,
Each dying gale that pants upon the trees,
Sudden by turns distract an infant's ears,
And death attends th' imaginary fears.

Hail thou dear infant! wretched,early ghost, Murder'd by her who ought to love thee most. Whose hands sustain'd thee, and whose musie charm'd, [warm'd:

drown'd,

Who dry'd thy cheeks with streams of crystal
[sound.
And taught thy voice to frame the fault'ring
Ungrateful wretch, may grief thy years consume,
And pains eternal bend thee to the tomb!
Tear her, ye warriors, tear her from my eyes,
Deaf to her vows, her penitence, or cries:
Deep in her bosom drive th' avenging dart,
To drink the blood that feeds her faithless heart.
In the same moment I'll resign my breath,
Satiate with fury, and content in death!"

She spake, and starting saw the Lemnian maid,
As in the silence of her soul she pray'd:
Sudden her rage rekindles at the view,
And trickling down her cheeks descend the drops
of dew.

"Bear, oh ye chiefs, this female curse away, Who adds a horrour to the fun'ral day, Who with a smile profanes the matron's moan, And triumphs in misfortunes not her own." She said, and sinking drew a fainter sigh. Rage stop'd her voice, and grief o'erwhelmed her eye;

Thence slowly moving thro' the crowd she went
By silent steps, in sullen discontent.

So when the holy priest with curious eyes,
Dooms some fair heifer to the sacrifice,
Or the gaunt lion bears her thro' the wood,
As down her side distils the life-warm blood:
The mother-beast, dejected and alone,
Pours to the winds her lamentable moan,
With mournful looks she paces from the plain,
And often goes, and often turns again.

The father now unbares his rev'rend head;
His silver locks he scatters o'er the dead:
Then with a sigh, the venerable man
Thus to the parent of the gods began.

"If Jove's almighty wisdom can deceive,
Curst is the man who fondly will believe!
These sacred hairs, long from the razor free,
I bore, a pious gift reserv'd for thee:
What time Opheltes' youthful cheeks resign
Their tender down, an off'ring at thy shrine.
In vain the sullen priest refus'd my pray'r,
And scatt'ring winds disperst it all in air.
Tear them my fingers, tear them from my head,
The last sad office to the worthy dead!"

Mean while the kindling brand awakes the Th' unwilling parents silently retire; [fire, High-lifted shields, that intercept the light In one dark circle, hide the mournful sight. The flying em'ralds crackle in the blaze, And fiery rubies stream with sanguine rays. In shining rills the trembling silver flows, And clearer gold with flaming lustre glows. In balmy clouds Arabia's odours rise, To waft their grateful fragrance to the skies. Rich urns of milk, tott'ring, their streams incline,

Mingling with blood, and ting'd with sable wine. Sev'n mournful cohorts (as their chieftains lead)

With arms reverst pace slowly round the dead;
Now moving to the left, enclose the pyre,
And scatter heaps of dust to sink the fire,
Thrice join their spears, thrice clash their sound-
ing shields;

Four times the females shriek, and clamour fills the fields.

Remote from these, another fire they feed With firstling victims of the woolly breed. Intent in thought the pious augur stands, Approves the rites, inspires the fainting bands: Calmly dissembling in his anxious mind Each sad presage of miseries behind.

Returning from the right with loud alarms, Again the warriors beat their clatt'ring arms: Shields, lances, helms, the sinking flames o'erspread,

A friend's last pledges to the warlike dead.
Full on the winds the swelling music floats,
And Nemee's shades pour back the leng h'ning
notes,

So when the trumpeter with lab'ring breath Shakes the wide fields, and sounds the charge of death:

The blood fermenting feels a gentle heat,
Quick roll the eyes, and fast the pulses beat:
E'er yet their rage the martial god controls,
Nor swells their nerves, nor rushes on their souls.
Now careful Night in sober weeds array'd,
O'er the clear skies extends her dusky shade.
They bend the copious goblet o'er the pyre,
And quench with wine the yet remaining fire.

Nine times his course bright Lucifer had roll'd,
And ev❜ning Vesper deck'd his rays with gold:
Now o'er the urn the sacred earth they spread:
And raise a monument to grace the dead.
Here in relief the Lemnian virgin stands,
Who points the grateful spring to Grecia's bands:
There young Opheltes breathes his dying moan,
And seems to shiver, and turn pale in stone;
In waving spires the serpent floats along,
And rolls his eyes in death, and darts his forky
tongue.

By this, the pleas'd spectators in a row, Throng the green Circus, and enjoy the show. Deep in the bosom of a vale it stood, Sacred to sports, and overhung with wood: A darker green its grassy surface crowns, And smoothly swims the car along the downs. Long ere the dawn of morn the mingling throng Spreads o'er the plain, and man bears man along : (Not half such numbers crowd the sacred space, Where yearly honours dead Palæmon grace ;) Confus'd delight! the fair, the gay, the sage, And boastful youth, and deep-discerning age.

Twice fifty steers along the plains they drew,
As many mother-cows of sable hue;
As many heifers raise their youthful horns,
Whose front as yet, no blaze of white adorns.
High o'er the people, wrought with lively
grace,

Shine the fair glories of their ancient race:
Each speaking figure seems to touch the soul,
And life and motion animate the whole.
Here lab'ring Hercules with anguish prest
The roaring lion to his manly breast.
Inspir'd with art th' historic figures rise,
And ev'n in sculpture live, and meet the eyes.
Here rev'rend luachus extends his side
O'er the green margin of his silver tide :
Transform'd, behind him fearful lö stood,
And cropt the grass beside her father's flood;
She mixes with the herd her mournful cries,
And often turns, and watches Argus' eyes.
Her, from the Pharian coast indulging Jove
Transferr'd immortal, to the realms above.

Still in her fanes the sable Memphian bows,
And eastern Magi pay their early vows.
Here Tan'alus amid the pow'rs divine
Lifts the deep goblet crown'd with sparkling wine:
Nor stands (as poets sing) in streams below,
Still curst with life, yet fated still to woe,

The wretch for ever pines, the streams for ever flow.

There Pelops lashes on with loos'ned reins
Neptune's fleet coursers o'er the smoking plains:
Behind his rival o'er the rapid steed
Hangs imminent and drives with equal speed.
Acrysius here in thoughtful posture stands:
There brave Choræbus lifts his bleeding hands.
Here am'rous Jove descending as of old,
Impregnates Danae with a show'r of gold.
Her blushes Amymóne strives to hide,
Comprest by Neptune in the silver tide.
Alcmena there young Hercules admires,
As her head blazes with three lambent fires.

Here Belus' sons at Hymen's altars stand,
And joir, with hearts averse the friendly hand:
A faithless smile of ill-dissembled grace
Seem'd most to flatter in Egysthus' face:
As the calm villain with severe delight
Acs in his mind the murders of the night.

Now ev'ry bosom beats with hopes, or fear,
The clamours thicken,and the crowd draws near.
Inspire the muse, to sing each hero's deeds,
O pow'r of verse! and name, and gen'rous steeds.
Before, afar, Arion beats the plain; [mane:
Loose to the breeze high-danc'd his floating
Immortal steed! whom first th' earth-shaker's
hand

Tam'd to the lash, and drove along the strand:
Though restless as the wintry surges roll,
And furious still, and unsubdu'd of soul.
Mix'd with his watry steeds the god he bore
To Lybian Syrtes, or th' Ionian shore:
Swift flew the rapid car, and left behind
The noise of tempests, and the wings of wind.
To glory next great Hercules he drew,
O'er hills, and vales, and craggy rocks he flew :
Then to Adrastus' government was giv'n
Th' immortal courser, and the gift of Heav'n.
The royal hand by due degrees reclaim'd,
And length of years his stubborn spirit tam'd:
Him now with many a wish, and many a pray'r,
Adrastus lends to Polynices' care;
Shows him to urge his fiery soul along

With tim❜rous hand, and gentleness of tongue:
The reins to guide, the circling lash to wield,
And drive victorious o'er the dusty field.

So sad Apollo with a boding sigh
Told his fond child the danger of the sky:
Careful the parent, such advice to give;
Could fate be chang'd, or headstrong
believe!

youth

Th' balian priest moves second o'er the plain,

Who boasts his coursers of immortal strain:
Sprung from fair Cyllarus in days of yore:
(The guilty product of a stol'n amour)
When Castor griev'd in bitterness of soul, [pole.
Where seas scarce flow beneath the Scythian
White were the steeds that drew him o'er the
field,

White was his helm, his ribbands, and his shield.
Next, bold Admetus, whirling from above
The sounding scourge, his female coursers drove :

Nor strokes nor blandishment their rage con trols,

[souls, They bound and swell with more than female Sprung from the cloud-born Centaurs, such their force,

Their lustful heat, and fury in the course.

Then fair Hypsipile's bold offspring came, Two lovely twins, alike intent on fame, [same. Their steeds, their chariots, and their arms the (This Thoas call'd, the name his grandsire bore, And Euneos that, to sail from shore to shore) Each wish'd the glorious victory his own, If not his brother to be blest alone.

Last Chromis and Hippodamus succeed, Each checks the reins, and each inspires his steed:

Alike with martial eminence they shone,
Œnomäus' this, and that Alcides' son;
One drove the coursers erst at Pisa bred,
And one the savage steeds of Diomed.

Whence first they start, a stony fragment
Of old, a limit to contiguous lands. [stands,
An aged oak of leaves and branches bare,
Presents a goal to guide the circling car.
Their distance such, as the wing'd arrow flies
Thrice from the bow sent hissing through the
skies.

2

Here ceas'd th' harmonious god, his lyre he
With decent care beneath a laureat shade; [laid
Then in rich robes his beauteous limbs he drest:
A starry zone hung blazing o'er his breast.
Sudden a shout confus'dly strikes his ears-
He bends his awful eyes, the crowd appears.
Each chief he knows, and honours each, but most
The priest, and ruler of Thessalia's host, 3
"What pow'r," (he cries) “has fir'd with thirst of
These two adorers of Apollo's name? [fame
Equally dear and good, alike renown'd
For piety, alike with favours crown'd.
When once a swain the lowing herds I drove,
(Such was the doom of fate, and wrath of Jove)
Still did Admetus' pious altars blaze,

And ev'ry temple rung with hymns of praise;
While at my shrine Amphiaräus stands,
And lifts his eyes, and spreads his trembling
hands;

dearest, best of men; alas no more-
Black fate impends, and all thy joys are o'er.
Soon must the Theban earth in sunder rend
Her opening jaws, and thou to Hell descend!
Admetus' life to distant times shall last,
And ev'ry year add glories to the past:
Unknowing of repentance, cares, and strife,
These hands shall guide him to the verge of life.
Each bird of omen told the fatal day—"
He said, and weeping turn'd his eyes away:

Then sudden from Olympus' airy height,
To Nemee's shade precipitates his flight;
Swift, as a sudden flash of light'ning flies,
Bending he shoots adown the shining skies:
Ev'n while on Earth the god pursues his way,
Behind, aloft, the streams of glory play,
Dance on the winds, or in a blaze decay.
Now in his helm impartial Prothous throws
The flying lots, and as the lots dispose,
Around him rang'd in beauteous order came
Each ardent youth, a candidate for fame.
Here wild mistrust, and jealousies appear,
And pale surprise, and self-suspecting fear:
Restless impatience, cold in ev'ry part,
And a sad dread that seems to sink the heart.
There shouts of triumph rend the vaulted sky,
And fame and conquest brighten ev'ry eye.
Th' impatient coursers pant in ev'ry vein,
And pawing seem to beat the distant plain:
The burning foam descends, the bridles ring,
And from the barrier-bounds in thought they
spring;

The vales, the floods appear already crost,
And e'er they start, a thousand steps are lost.
T'exalt their pride, a crowd of servants deck
Their curling manes, and stroke the shining
neck.

Instant, (the signal giv'n) the rival throng
Starts sudden with a bound-and shoots along.
Swift as a vessel o'er the waters flies,
Swift as an arrow hisses through the skies:
Swift as a flame devours the crackling wood,
Swift as the headlong torrents of a flood.

Now in one cloud they vanish from the eye,
Nor see nor know their rivals as they fly:
They turn the goal: again with rapid pace
The wheels roll round, and blot their former
trace;

Now on their knees they steer a bending course,
Now hang impatient o'er the flying horse.
From groaning earth the mingling clamours rise,
Confusion fills their ears, and darkness blinds
their eyes.

Instinct with prescience, or o'eraw'd by fear,
Arion feels an unknown charioteer
Pois'd on the reins; to sudden thought restor'd,
He dreads the fury of his absent lord:
Enrag'd now runs at random, and disdains
To bear a stranger: wonder fills the plains.
All think the steed too eager for the prize;
The steed breathes vengeance, from the driver
flies,

And seeks his master round with wishful eyes. The next, though mighty far the next, succeeds

Amphiaräus with his snow-white steeds:
Close by his side Admetus whirls along,
Euneos and Thoas join the flying throng:
Next Chromas and Hippodamus appear,
Who wage a dreadful conflict in the rear:
Skill'd of themselves, in vain they urge the chase,
(Their steeds too heavy for so swift a race)
Hippodamus flew first, and full behind
Impatient Chromis blows the sultry wind.
Admetus now directs the side-long horse
To turn the goal, and intercept the course:
His equal art the priest of Phoebus tries,
The goal he brushes, as his chariot flies;
While mad Arion wanders o'er the plain,

Unable to control, the trembling chief Sits sadly silent, and indulges grief:

Pleas'd with his liberty the sea-born horse Springs with a bound, and thunders o'er the

course:

Loud shouts the multitude; in wild debate
Of fears and terrours Polynices sate,

Flings up the reins, and waits th' event of fate.
So spent with toils, and gasping after breath,
Pants the pale sailor in the arms of death;
In sad despair gives ev'ry labour o'er,
And marks the skies and faithless winds no more.
Now horse with horse, to chariot chariot clos'd,
Wheels clash'd with wheels, and chief to chief
oppos'd.
[ways-
War, war it seem'd! and death ten thousand
So dreadful, is the sacred lust of praise!
Each chief by turns his panting coursers fires,
With praise now pleases, now with rage inspires.
By fair address Admetus sooths along
Iris the swift, and Pholöe the strong.
Amphiaräus hastens with a blow

Fierce Aschetos to rush before the foe,
And Cycnus whiter than the new-fal'n snow.
With vows and pray'rs Hippodamus excites
Slow moving Calydon, renown'd in fights:
Strimon encourag'd by bold Chromis flies,
And swift Echion starts at Euneos' cries:
And fair Podarcè fleck'd with purple stains,
By Thoas summon'd, beats the sounding plains.
In silence Polynices drives alone,

Sighs to himself, and trembles to be known.

Three times the smoking car with rapid pace Had turn'd the goal, the fourth concludes the

race.

Fast and more fast the panting coursers blow, And streams of sweat from ev'ry member flow.

Now Fortune first the crown of conquest

brings

(Suspending in mid air her trembling wings).
In act to hurl Admetus to the plain,
Revengful Thoas gives up all the rein;
Hippodamus survey'd the fraud from far:
Full in its course he met the driving car,
Loud clash'd the wheels; Hippodamus withdrew
To turn the chariot, ardent Chromas flew
Instant before, in angry fight oppos'd,
Chief strove with chief, to chariot chariot clos'd.
In vain th' impatient coursers urge along,
Lock'd in th' embrace, indissolubly strong.

So when the summer winds in silence sleep,
And drowsy Neptune stills the watry deep:
O'er the clear verdant wave extended lies
Th' unmoving vessel, till the gales arise.

Again the warriors strive, the fields resound
Hippodamus, all sudden with a bound
Shock'd-from his chariot tumbled to the ground.
The Thracian coursers (but their chief withstood)
Spring to devour his limbs, and drink his blood:
Instant the gen'rous victor turn'd away,
And gain'd more glory though he lost the day.
Mean while the god who gilds th' ethereal

space

Descends, himself a partner of the race:
(Just where the steeds their stretching shade
And the long labours of the Circus end) [extend,
A Gorgon's head aloft in air he bore,

Horrid with snakes, and stain'd with human gore:
One ghastly look were able to dismay

Ev'n Hell's grim guardian might surcease to roar; And furies fear, unknown to fear before.

Sudden Arion ey'd the sight from far, And loudly snorting stopp'd the driving car: Cold darts of ice shot thrilling through his blood, His fearful flesh all trembled as they stood: Abruptly shock'd, and mindless of the rein, Th' Aonian hero tumbled to the plain; Again recover'd, fleeter than the wind Arion flies, and leaves his chief behind. Beside the prostrate chief, the rival throng Obliquely bending, swiftly rush'd along. Slow from the dust he rose, and sadly went Through the long crowd in sullen discontent. O happy hour! had fate but deign'd to close Thy eyes in death; the period of our woes! Thee Thebes should honour, and her tyrant shed Some tears in public to bewail the dead. Larissa's groves should fall, to raise thy pyre And Nemee's woods augment the fun'ral fire. All Greece a nobler monument should raise Than this, now sacred to Opheltes' praise.

Furious the prophet drove with rapid pace Sure of the prize, yet second in the race: Before, afar the sea-born courser drew His empty chariot rat'ling as he flew. Yet still the prophet thunders o'er the plain, Eager of praise, amaz'd, enrag'd,—in vain ; The pow'r of wisdom more than mortal strong, Swells ev'ry nerve to lash the steeds along: Instinct with rage divine his steeds renew The rapid labour bath'd in streams of dew. The glowing axle kindles as they fly, And drifts of rising dust involve the sky. Earth opening seems to groan, (a fatal sign!) Still they rush on, advancing in a line: Now with redoubled swiftness Cycnus flies, But partial Neptune the whole palm denies : Arion won the race, the prophet bore the prize. A massy bowl (the pledge design'd to grace The gen'rous chief victorious in the race) Two youths present him: antique was the mould, Blazing with gems, and rough with rising gold: In this, Alcides each revolving night Was wont to drown the labours of the fight: Grav'd on the sides was seen the dreadful fray When brutal Centaurs snatch'd the bride away. With living terrours stare the chiefs around, These aim the dart, and those receive the wound: Each in distorted postures heaves for breath, And seems to threaten in the pangs of death. A costly vesture was reserv'd to grace Admetus, next in merit as in place; Embroider'd figures o'er the texture shine, And Tyrian purple heightens the design. Here pale and trembling with the wintry air, Leander stands, an image of despair. Now bending from the beach, he seems to glide With eyes uplifted through the rolling tide; Aloft, alone the melancholy dame Eyes the rough waters, and extends the flame. Half-weeping Polynices takes his prize, A beauteous handmaid with celestial eyes. August rewards are destin'd next to grace The spritely youth contending in the race. A blameless sport! and sacred sure the praise To grace a festival in peaceful days: Nor yet unuseful in th' embattel'd plain When death is certain, and resistance vain.

First cheerful Idas in the lists appears, Idas, a lovely boy in blooming years (Idas who late his honour'd temples bound With palms that flourish'd on th' Olympian ground).

Loud shouts each chief that from high Elis leads
His native train, and Pisa's watry meads:
Then Phædimus proclaim'd in Isthmian games,
And Alcon first of Sicyonian names;
Next aged Dymas rose, whose youthful speed
Surpass'd the swiftness of the flying steed:
And last in infamous disorder came
A clam'rous multitude unknown to fame.
But ev'ry voice cheers Atalanta's son,
And ev'ry eye devours him ere they run.
Lives there a warrior in the world of fame,
Who never heard of Atalanta's name?
Like Cynthia's self she seem'd, a sylvan grace
Matchless alike in beauty or the race.
The mother's glories all their thoughts employ,
And raise expectance from the lovely boy.
He too in speed out-strips the wings of wind,
As thro' the lawns he drives the panting hind:
Or when he catches sudden with a bound
The flying jav'lin e'er it touch the ground.

The modest youth unbinds with decent care
His damask vesture dancing to the air:
Then by degrees unveils to public view
His snowy limbs like marble, vein'd with blue.
His rosy cheeks that glow'd with warmth before,
His tresses wav'd in ringlets please no more;
A thousand charms appear! in stupid gaze
The crowd devours him, silent with amaze.
Conscious he stands, his head declining down,
And blushes oft; and chides them with a frown:
Decent confusion! mindful of the toil
He bathes his shining limbs in streams of oil;
Alike the chiefs-Intent, th' encircling host
Admires 'em all, Parthenopaus most.

So when the night in solemn silence reigns,
And one clear blue o'erspreads th' etherial plains:
The glitt'ring stars with living splendours glow,
And dance and tremble on the seas below;
High o'er them all exalted Hesper rolls,
Itseif a sun, and gilds the distant poles.

The next in beauty, as in speed, appears
Fair Idas, in the strength of youthful years:
A party-coloured down but just began
To shade his chin, the promise of a man.

A signal sounds. The ready racers start, Double their speed, and summon all their art. Low at each step their straining knees they bend, Then springing with a bound, again ascend, Swifter than thought; nor seem to run, but fly, Stretch'd on the winds, half-vanish'd from the

eye.

Now side by side, or breast to breast they close, While each alike by turns outstrips his foes. Scarce half so swiftly o'er the Nemean plains Just now, the courser pour'd with loos'ned reins Each, like an arrow from the Parthian yew Sent with full force, along the Circus flew.

So when a tim'rous herd of list'ning deer The roaring lion hears, or seems to hear, (What time the lordly savage haunts the wood, And longs to bathe his thirsty jaws in blood) Close and more close they join, a trembling

train,

And wildly stare, and scour along the plain,