Whose panting vitals, warm with life, she draws, And in their hearts imbrues her cruel claws. The youths surround her with extended spears; But brave Chorobus in the front appears, Deep in her breast he plunged his shining. sword, 725 And hell's dire monster back to hell restored. And weary all the wild efforts of rage. The birds obscene, that nightly flocked to taste, With hollow screeches fled the dire repast: 736 And ravenous dogs, allured by scented blood, And starving wolves, ran howling to the wood. "But fired with rage, from cleft Parnassus' brow 740 Avenging Phoebus bent his deadly bow, 746 "But Phoebus, asked why noxious fires ap pear, And raging Sirius blasts the sickly year, Demands their lives by whom his monster fell, And dooms a dreadful sacrifice to hell. 750 "Blessed be thy dust, and let eternal fame Attend thy manes, and preserve thy name, Undaunted hero! who, divinely brave, In such a cause disdained thy life to save; 766 "With piety, the soul's securest guard, And conscious virtue, still its own reward, Willing I come, unknowing how to fear; Nor shalt thou, Phoebus, find a suppliant here. Thy monster's death to me was owed alone, 761 And 'tis a deed too glorious to disown. Pehold him here, for whom, so many days, Impervious clouds concealed thy sullen rays; For whom, as man no longer claimed thy care, Such numbers fell by pestilential air! But if the abandoned race of human kind From gods above no more compassion find; If such inclemency in heaven can dwell, Yet why must unoffending Argos feel The vengeance due to this unlucky steel? On me, on me, let all thy fury fall, Nor err from me, since I deserve it all; Unless our desert cities please thy sight, Or funeral 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!' "Merit distressed, impartial Heaven relieves : Unwelcome life relenting Phoebus gives; For not the vengeful power, that glowed with rage, 770 775 781 With such amazing virtue durst engage. 785 Thence we these altars in his temple raise, These honours, still renewed, his ancient wrath appease. "But say, illustrious guest (adjoined the 790 King) What name you bear, from what high race you spring? The noble Tydeus stands confessed, and known Our neighbour prince, and heir of Calydon. Relate your fortunes, while the friendly night And silent hours to various talk invite." 795 The Theban bends on earth his gloomy eyes, Confused, and sadly thus at length replies : "Before these altars how shall I proclaim, O generous prince! my nation, or my name, Or through what veins our ancient blood has rolled? Let the sad tale for ever rest untold! 800 Yet if propitious to a wretch unknown, Touched with concern for his unhappy guest) roll, 811 In northern wilds, and freeze beneath the pole ; And those who tread the burning Lybian lands, The faithless Syrtes, and the moving sands; 815 Who view the western sea's extremest bounds, Or drink of Ganges in their eastern grounds; All these the woes of Edipus have known, Your fates, your furies, and your haunted town. If on the sons the parent's crimes descend, 820 What prince from those his lineage can defend? 825 Be this thy comfort, that 'tis thine to efface "Oh father Phoebus! whether Lycia's coast, And snowy mountains, thy bright presence boast; 830 Whether to sweet Castalia thou repair, air 840 Long trails of light, and shake their blazing hair. Thy rage the Phrygian felt, who durst aspire To excel the music of thy heavenly lyre; 846 Thy shafts avenged lewd Tityus' guilty flame, The immortal victim of thy mother's fame; Thy hand slew Python, and the dame who lost Her numerous offspring for a fatal boast. 850 In Phlegyas' doom thy just revenge appears, Condemned 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 hospitable Argos shine, 856 Whether the style of Titan please thee more, Whose purple rays the Achæmenes adore; Or great Osiris, who first taught the swain In Pharian fields to sow the golden grain; 860 Or Mitra, to whose beams the Persian bows, And pays, in hollow rocks, his awful vows; Mitra, whose head the blaze of light adorns, Who grasps the struggling heifer's lunar horns." THE FABLE OF DRYOPE. FROM THE NINTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.1 HE said, and for her lost Galanthis sighs, When the fair consort of her son replies: Since you a servant's ravished form bemoan, 5 1 Upon occasion of the death of Hercules, his mother Alcmena recounts her misfortunes to Iole, who answers with a relation of those of her own family, in particular the transformation of her sister Dryope, which is the subject of the ensuing fable, -P. |