If Hear'n's dread sov'reign to my vengeful hand His wasting flames would yield, and forked brand, Scorch'd on the cliffs, your giant limbs should feed

The mountain wolves, and all the rav'nous breed.' "I said; and from the south a rising breeze Brush'd the thick woods, and swept the curling

seas.

Above the waves my vessel lightly flew ;
The ocean widen'd, and the shores withdrew.
Inrag' the Cyclops, rushing down the steep,
Eager to snatch me, plung'd into the deep:
My flight he follow'd with gigantic strides,
And stem'd with both his knees the rushing tides.
Soon had I perish'd, but escap'd again,
Protected by the god who rules the main.
He sent a spectre from his wat'ry caves;
Like mist it rose and hover'd o'er the waves.
A skiff like mine, by art divine, it grew ;
And to the left across the ocean flew.
With course divided, where the pilot spies
Amid the deep two desert islands rise,
In shape, like altars, so by sailors nam'd,
A mark for pilots, else for nothing fam'd;
The angry giant doubting stood, nor knew
Which to forsake, the shadow or the true :
For both seem'd equal. By the fates misled,
He chac'd the airy image as it fled;
Nor reach'd it: for it led him through the main,
As the bright rainbow mocks some simple swain;
Who still intent to catch it where it stands,
And grasp the shining meteor with his hands,
Along the dewy meadows holds his way;
But still before him flies the colour'd ray.
The Cyclops so, along the wat'ry plain,
The shadowy phantom chas'd and chas'd in vain:
The billows bursted on his hairy sides,
And far behind him rush'd the parted tides.
Dissody'd at last, its airy structure broke,
And vanish'd hov'ring like a cloud of smoke.
His errour then, and my escape, he knew;
For, favour'd by the breeze, my vessel flew
Far to the deep: yet plunging in the waves,
Torn from its bed a pond'rous rock he heaves,
Craggy and black, with dangling sea-weed hung;
Push'd from his hand the weighty mass he flung,
To crush my flight: along th' ethereal plain
It roll'd, and thund'ring downwards shook the
main,

Behind it fell; and farther from the shore,
Hurl'd on the mounting waves, my vessel bore
Towards the deep. The giant saw, with pain,
His fraud detected, force essay'd in vain.
He curs'd the partial pow'rs, and lash'd on high,
With both his hands, the ocean to the sky.
"Now safe beyond his reach, a prosp'rous gale
Blew fresh behind, and stretch'd my flying sail :
The shores retir'd; but, from the distant main,
I saw him tow'ring on the wat'ry plain,
Like a tall ship; and moving to the shore,
Sullen and sad, to tend his fleecy store.
Seven days I sail'd; the eighth returning light
The Pylian shores presented to my sight,
Far in the east; and where the Sun displays,
Along the glitt'ring waves, his early rays.
Thither I steer'd, and, where a point divides
Extended in the deep, the parted tides,
A fane I mark'd; whose tow'ring summit, rear'd
High in the air, with gilded spires appear'd.

To Neptune sacred on the beach it stands,
Conspicuous from the sea and distant lands.
Assembled on the shore the people stood
On every side extended, like a wood:
And in the midst I saw a pillar rise,
Of sacred smoke, ascending to the skies.
'Twas there I reach'd the hospitable strand,
And, joyful, fix'd my vessel to the land.

"There, with his peers, your royal sire I found; And fell before him prostrate on the ground, Imploring aid; my lineage I reveal'd, Nor aught of all my tedious toils conceal'd. Attentive as I spoke the bero heard, Nor credulous nor diffident appear'd; For prudence taught him, neither to receive With easy faith, or rashly disbelieve.

"O son of Neleus! though you justly claim,
For eloquence and skill, superior fame;
Yet to an equal glory ne'er aspire:
Vain were the hope to emulate your sire.
Eight days we feasted; still the flowing bowl
Return'd, and sweet discourse, to glad the soul,
With pleasure heard; as comes the sound of rain,
In summer's drought, to cheer the careful swain.
And when the ninth returning morn arose,
Sixty bold mariners the hero chose,
Skili'd, through the deep, the flying keel to guide,
And sweep, with equal oars, the hoary tide:
They trimm'd a vessel, by their lord's com-
mand,

To waft me to my sire and native land.
With gifts enrich'd of robes and precious ore,
He sent me joyful from the Pylian shore.
Such Neleus was! and such his signal praise
For hospitable deeds in former days;
The friend, the patron, destin'd to redress
The wrongs of fate, and comfort my distress.

"But what is man! a reptile of the Earth;
To toils successive fated from his birth;
Few are our joys; in long succession flow
Our griefs; we number all our days in woe.
Misfortune enter'd with my infant years;
My feeble age a load of sorrow bears.
Driv'n from my country by domestic foes,
Thebes but receiv'd me to partake her woes.
The sword I've seen and wide devouring fire,
Against her twice in fatal league conspire.
The public griefs, which ev'ry heart must share,
By nature taught to feel another's care,
Augment my own: our matrons weeping stand;
Our rev'rend elders mourn a ruin'd land;
Their furrow'd cheeks with streams of sorrow
flow;

And wailing orphans swell the genʼral woe;
They mourn their dearest hopes, in battle slain,
Whose limbs unbury'd load their native plain;
And now by us entreat that war may cease,
And, for seven days successive, yield to peace :
That mutually secure, with pious care,
Both hosts funereal honours may prepare
For ev'ry warrior, whom the rage of fight
Has swept to darkness and the coasts of night.
To ratify the truce, if ye approve,

We come alike commission'd, as to move."
Thus Clytophon; and he, whose sov'reign

sway

The warriors of the Pylian race obey, Nestor, his partial favour thus express'd, And to the Theban chief himself address'd.

Prepar'd with art, or dictated by fear;
For what you tell, my memory recalls,
When young I saw you at my native walls,
Yourself a youth; though now a length of years,
Imprinted deep, in all your form appears;
Yet still, with sure remembrance, can I trace
Your voice the same and lineaments of face.
An infant then upon your knees I hung,

tongue :

our woes I pity'd, as I pity still;

And, were the chiefs determin'd by my will,
The truce should stand: for piety conspires
With justice, to demand what Thebes requires."
The hero thus; the king of men replies:
"Princes, in fight approv'd, in council wise!
What Thebes propounds 'tis yours alone to chuse
Whether ye will accept it or refuse:

For though your votes consenting in my hand
Have plac'd the sceptre of supreme command;
Yet still my pow'r, obedient to your choice,
Shall with its sauction join the public voice."
The monarch thus; and thus the chief re-
ply'd,

Whom fair Etolia's martial sons obey'd:
"Princes, attend! and thou,whose sov'reign hand
Sways the dread sceptre of supreine command!
What Thebes requires I do not now oppose,
Because, insensible to human woes,

The widow's tears I scorn, the mother's sighs,
The groans of fathers, or the orphan's cries,
Whose dearest hopes, in rage of battle slain,
With wounds defac'd, lie scatter'd on the plain:
Compassion for the host, which fruitless toil
So long has wasted in a foreign soil,

What Thebes propounds, impels me to dissuade,
And, for the living, disregard the dead.
How long has war and famine thin'd our pow'rs,
Inactive camp'd around the Theban tow'is?
And pestilence, whose dire infection flies,
Blown by the furies through the tainted skies?
Many now wander on the Stygian shore,
Whom sires and consorts shall behold no more;
And many still, who yet enjoy the day,
Must follow down the dark Tartarean way,
If, blinded by the fates, our counsels bar
The course of conquest and protract the war.
Since equity and public right demands
That Thebes should fall by our avenging hands,
Now let us combat, till the gods above,
Who sit around the starry throne of Jove,
The judges of the nations, crown our toil,
So long endur'd, with victory and spoi!;
Or, destine us to fall in glorious fight,
Elate and dauntless in the cause of right.
Shall we delay till dire infection spreads
Her raven wings o'er our devoted heads?
Till gen'rous wrath, by slow disease supprest,
Expires inactive in the warrior's breast,
Aud life, the price of glory, paid in vain,
We die forgotten on a foreign plair."

Tydides thus; and he, whose sov'reign sway
The warriors of the Pylian race obey,
Nestor, reply'd, for eloquence approv'd,
By Pallas and the tunelul sisters lov'd:
"Confed'rate kings! and thou, whose sov'reign

hand

Sways the dread sceptre of supreme command,

That from the war releas'd, we might again
Each share the pleasures of his native reign:
Yet let us not presumptuously withstand
What piety alike and right command,
The honours of the dead; nor tempt the gods,
To curse our labours, from their bright abodes.
Far in the Heav'ns, above this mortal scene,
In boundless light, the thund'rer sits serene;
He views the works of men; the good he knows,
And on their just attempts success bestows;
But blasts impiety, and mocks its aim,
With disappointment sure, and lasting shame.

"Attend, ye princes! and I shall unfold
What sage Harmonius taught my sire of old.
The Locri summon'd all their martial pow'rs,
And fought around the Orchomenian tow'rs.
From oxen seiz'd, began the dire debate;
And wide and wasteful was the work of fate.
The Orchomenians oft a truce propos'd
For fun'ral rites; the Locrian chiefs oppos'd.
Nine days expir'd, the bleeding warriors lay;
Their wounds hot streaming to the solar ray.
From Styx's sable shore their ghosts implor'd,
With suppliant cries, Hell's dread avenging
lord.

He heard, and from the gloomy deep below
Of Erebus profound, the house of woe,
A fury sent, the fiercest of the crew,
Whose iron scourges human crimes pursue:
Discord her name; among th' infernal gods
She dwells, excluded from the blest abudes;
Though oft on Earth she rears her baleful head,
To kindle strife, and make the nations bleed.
The fury came; and, hov'ring o'er the plain,
Devoted with her eyes the Locrian train.
In form a raven, to a tow'r she flew,
Which rose upon a precipice in view,
And on the airy summit took her seat,
With potent charms, to kindle dire debate.
The howling dogs her presence first declare;
The war-horse trembling snorts aloft in air;
On man at last the dire infection fell,
The awful vengeance of the pow'rs of Hell,
Confusion straight through all the camp is found;
The wand'ring centinel deserts his ground,
Fatally gay and crown'd with ev'ry weed,
Which weeping matrons scatter o'er the dead;
Of dire portent: but when the silent reign
Of night possess'd the mountains and the plain,
Above the camp her torch the fury rear'd,
Red, in the air, its baleful flame appear'd,
Kindling debate: outrageous strife arose,
Loud as the ocean when a tempest blows,
O'er all the plain, and stun'd the ear of night
With shouts tumultuous and the din of fight.
Down from her airy stand the goddess came,
Shot like a meteor, with a stream of flame,
To kindle fiercer strife, with stronger charms,
To swell the tumult and the rage of arms.

The combat burn'd: the Orchomenians heard
With horrour, nor beyond their walls appear'd,
By awe divine restrain'd: but when the light
Return'd successive on the steps of night,
From ev'ry tow'r they saw the spacious plain
With havoc heap'd, and mountains of the slain.
The secret cause the augurs first declar'd;
The justice of the gods they own'd and fear'd.
No fun'ral rite the Orchomenian state
On them bestow'd, the vulgar or the great;
In one deep pit, whose mouth extended wide
Four hundred cubit length from side to side,
They whelm'd them all; their bucklers and their
spears,

The steeds, the chariots, and the charioteers,
One ruin mix'd; for so the will of Jove
The priests declar'd; and heap'd a mount above:
Such was the fate, by Heav'n and Hell decreed,
To punish bold contemners of the dead.
And let us not their fatal wrath provoke,
Nor merit by our guilt an equal stroke;
But seal the truce, and piously bestow
What to the reliques of the dead we owe."

He said; the peers their joint assent declare,
The dead to honour, and the gods revere.
The king of men commands a herald straight
The priests to call, and hasten ev'ry rite.
While thus the sovʼreign mandate they obey'd,
Th' Etolian leader rose, and frowning said:

"O blind to truth! and fated to sustain
A length of woes, and tedious toils in vain!
By sounds deceiv'd, as to her fatal den
Some vocal sorc'ress lures the steps of men;
O eloquence! thou fatal charm! how few,
Guided by thee, their real good pursue!
By thee, our minds, with magic fetters bound,
In all decisions, true and false confound.
Not the unnumber'd wrecks, which lie along
The Syrens' coast the trophies of their song,
Nor there where Circe from the neighb'ring deep,
With strong enchantments, draws the passing
ship,

Can match thy spoils: O let me ne'er obey,
And follow blindly, as you point the way!
Confed'rate kings! since nothing can oppose
The truce you purpose with our treach'rous foes,
With mischief pregnant; I alone am free,
Nor these my eyes the fatal rite shall see;
Lest it be said, when mischief shall succeed,
Tydides saw it, and approv'd the deed."
Speaking he grasp'd his spear and pond'rous
shield;
[field,
And mov'd like Mars, when, 'midst th' imbattled
Sublime he stalks to kindle fierce alarms,
To swell the tumult and the rage of arms.
Such seem'd the chief: the princes with sur-
prize

Turn on the king of men, at once their eyes.
He thus began: "Since now the public choice
The truce approves, with one consenting voice;
Tydides only, with superior pride,
Tho' youngest, still the readiest to decide,
Our gen'ral sense condemns; his haughty soul
Must not the counsels of the host control,
Brave though he is: the altars ready stand;
In order waits the consecrated band;
Straight let us seal the truce with blood and wine,
And, to attest it, call the pow'rs divine."

The monarch thus; Tydides to his tent,
Thro' the still host, in sullen sorrow went,

Fix'd in his mind the fatal vision stay'd, Snatch'd by invading force his lovely maid; The fraud of Cytherea; still his heart Incessant anguish felt, and lasting smart: And, as a lion, when his side retains

A barbed shaft, the cause of bitter pains,
Growls in some lonely shade; his friends declin'd
He breath'd in groans the anguish of his mind.

Now round the flaming hearth th' assembly

stands,

And Theseus thus invokes with lifted hands:
"Hear me, ye pow'rs, that rule the realms oflight!
And ye dread sov'reigns of the shades of night!
If, till the eighth succeeding Sun displays,
Above the eastern hills, his early rays,
Any bold warrior of the Argive bands,
Against a Theban lifts his hostile hands
By us approv'd; let ev'ry curse succeed
On me, and all, for perjury decreed.
And as by blood our mutual oath we seal,
The blood of victims drawn by deathful steel;
So let their blood be shed, who, scorning right,
Profanely shall presume its ties to slight."
Apollo's priest, for Thebes, resum'd the vow,
The gods above invoking, and below,
Their vengeance to inflict, if force, or art,
The truce should violate on either part.

The rites concluded thus, the king commands
Two younger warriors of his native bands
A chariot to prepare; the driver's place
Sophronimus assum'd; with tardy pace,
Ascend the sage ambassadors; before

A lighted torch Asteropæus bore,
And led the way; the tents, the field of war,
They pass'd, and at the gate dismiss'd the car

THE

EPIGONIAD.

BOOK V.

Soon as the Sun display'd his orient ray,
And crown'd the mountain tops with early day,
Through ev'ry gate the Theban warriors flow,
Unarm'd and fearless of th' invading foe:
As when, in early spring, the shepherd sees
Rush from some hollow rock a stream of bees,
Long in the cliffs, from winter's rage, conceal'd,
New to the light, and strangers to the field;
In compass wide their mazy flight they steer,
Which wings of balmy zephyrs lightly bear
Along the meads, where some soft river flows,
Or forests, where the flow'ry hawthorn blows;
To taste the early spring their course they bend,
And lightly with the genial breeze descend:
So o'er the heights and plains the Thebans
spread;
[dead,
Some, 'midst the heaps of slaughter, sought their
Others with axes to the woods repair'd,
Fell'd the thick forests, and the mountains bar'd,

With like intent the Argive warriors mov'd,
By Theseus led, whom virgin Pallas lov'd.
Ten thousand oxen drew the harness'd wains,
In droves collected from the neighb'ring plains;
Slow up the mountains move the heavy wheels,
The steep ascent each groaning axle feels:
In ev'ry grove the temper'd axes sound;
The thick trees crackle, and the caves resound.
Now to the plain the moving woods descend,
Under their weight a thousand axles bend: