For whom, as Man no longer claim'd thy care, 765
Such numbers fell by pestilential air!
But if th' abandon'd race of human kind
From Gods above no more compassion find;
If such inclemency in heav'n can dwell,
Yet why must un-offending Argos feel
The vengeance due to this unluckly steel?
On me, on me, let all thy fury fall,
Nor err from me, since I deserve it all :
Unless our defart cities please thy fight,
Our fun'ral flames reflect a grateful light.
Discharge thy shafts, this ready bosom rend,
And to the shades a ghost triumphant send,
But for my Country let my fate atone,
Be mine the vengeance, as the crime my own.
Quæris inique poli. Quod fi monstra effera magnis 765
Cara adeo Superis, jacturaque vilior orbis,
Mors hominum, & favo tanta inclementia cælo eft :
Quid meruere Argi? me, me, divum optime, folum 770
Objeciffe caput fatis præftabit. An illud
Lene magis cordi, quod defolata domorum
Tecta vides? ignique datis cultoribus omnis
Lucet ager? fèd quid fando tua tela manusque
Demoror? expectant matres, fupremaque fundunt 775
Vota mihi. Satis eft : merui nec parcere velles.
Proinde move pharetras, arcusque intende fonoros,
Infignemque animam leto dimitte: fed illum
Pallidus Inachiis qui defuper imminet Argis,
Dum morior, depelle globum. Fors æqua, merentes
Merit distress'd, impartial heav'n relieves; Unwelcome life relenting Phœbus gives; For not the vengeful pow'r, that glow'd with rage, With such amazing virtue durst engage. The clouds dispers'd, Apollo's wrath expir'd, And from the wondring God th' unwilling youth retir'd. 'Thence we these altars in his temple raise, And offer annual honours, feafts, and praise; These folemn feasts propitious Phœbus please, These honours, still renew'd, his antient wrath appease. But say, illustrious guest (adjoin'd the King) What name you bear, from what high race you spring? The noble Tydeus stands confess'd, and known Our neighbour Prince, and heir of Calydon. Relate your fortunes, while the friendly night And filent hours to various talk invite.
Refpicit. Ardentem tenuit reverentia cædis
Latoidem, tristemque viro fummissus honorem
Largitur vita: noftro mala nubila cælo
Diffugiunt; at tu ftupefacti a limine Phœbi
Exoratus abis. Inde bæc stata facra quotannis
Solennes recolunt epula, Phœbæaque placat
Templa novatus honos : has forte invisitis aras.
Vos quæ progenies? quanquam Calydonius Oeneus, 790
Et Parthaonica (dudum fi certus ad aures
Clamor iit) tibi jura domus; tu pande quis Argos
Advenias? quando hæc variis fermonibus hora est. 795
The Theban bends on earth his gloomy eyes,
Confus'd, and sadly thus at length replies :
Before these altars how shall I proclaim
(Oh gen'rous prince) my nation or my name,
Or thro' what veins our antient blood has roll'd? 800
Let the sad tale for ever rest untold!
Yet if propitious to a wretch unknown,
You seek to share in forrows not your own;
Know then, from Cadmus I derive my race,
Focafta's fon, and Thebes my native place.
To whom the King, (who felt his gen'rous breast
Touch'd with concern for his unhappy guest)
Replies-Ah why forbears the son 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.
Dejecit mæslos extemplo Ismenius heros
In terram vultus, taciteque ad Tydea læfum
Obliquare oculos: tum longa filentia movit.
Non fuper hos divûm tibi fum querendus honores
Unde genus, quæ terræ mihi : quis defluat ordo
Sanguinis antiqui, piget inter facra fateri.
Sed fi præcipitant miferum cognofcere cura,
Cadmus origo patrum, tellus Mavortia Thebe,
Et genetrix Jocasta mihi. Tum motus Adrastus 805
Hofpitiis (agnovit enim) quid nota recondis?
Scimus, ait, nec fic averfum fama Mycenis
Volvit iter. Regnum, & furias, oculosque pudentes
Ev'n those who dwell where suns at distance roll,
In northern wilds, and freeze beneath the pole;
And those who tread the burning Libyan lands,
The faithless Syrtes and the moving sands;
Who view the western sea's extremeft bounds,
Or drink of Ganges in their eastern grounds;
All these the woes of Oedipus have known,
Your fates, your furies, and your haunted town.
If on the fons the parents crimes descend,
What Prince from those his lineage can defend ?
Be this thy comfort, that 'tis thine t' efface
With virtuous acts thy ancestor's disgrace,
And be thy felf the honour of thy race.
But fee! the stars begin to steal away,
And shine more faintly at approaching day;
Now pour the wine; and in your tuneful lays,
Once more refound the great Apollo's praise.
Novit, & Artois fi quis de folibus horret,
Quique bibit Gangen, aut nigrum occafibus intrat
Oceanum, & fi quos incerto littore Syrtes
Deftituunt, ne perge queri, cafusque priorum
Annumerare tibi: noftro quoque fanguine multum
Erravit pietas: nec culpa nepotibus obftat.
Tu modo dissimilis rebus mereare fecundis
Excufare tuos. Sed jam temone fupino
Languet Hyperboreæ glacialis portitor urfæ:
Fundite vina focis, fervatoremque parentum
Latoiden votis iterumque iterumque canamus.
Oh father Phœbus! whether Lycia's coaft And snowy mountains, thy bright presence boast; 830 Whether to sweet Castalia 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 shady shore; Or chuse thy feat in Ihion's proud abodes, The shining structures rais'd by lab'ring Gods. By thee the bow and mortal shafts are born; Eternal charms thy blooming youth adorn: Skill'd in the laws of fecret fate above, And the dark counsels of almighty Jove, 'Tis thine the feeds of future war to know, The change of scepters, and impending woe; When direful meteors spread thro' glowing air Long trails of light, and shake their blazing hair.
Phœbe parens, feu te Lyciæ Pataræa nivofis Exercent dumeta jugis, feu rore pudico Caftaliæ flavos amor eft tibi mergere crines: Seu Trojam Thymbræus habes, ubi fama volentem Ingratis Phrygios humeris fubiisse molares : Seu juvat Ægaum feriens Latonius umbra Cynthus, & affiduam pelago non quærere Delon: 835 Tela tibi, longeque feros lentandus in hoftes Arcus, & ætherii dono cessere parentes Æternum florere genas. Tu doctus iniquas Parcarum prænosse manus, fatumque quod ultra eft, 840 Et fummo placitura Jovi. Quis letifer annus, Bella quibus populis, mutent quæ fceptra Cometæ.
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