Now all rush down, difmifs their former Dread,
And blush to follow when they might have led.
Thus when the Herdsman thro' fome Brook untry'd
Would drive his Cattle to the farther Side,
Just on the Brink all motionless they stand,
And view the Waves between, and diftant Strand: 650
But if the bolder Bull pervades the Ford,
And gains the wifh'd-for Mead, its Depth explor'd,
The Leap grows eafy, fhallower looks the Stream,
And the two Banks almoft united feem.
Not diftant far a Mountain they survey,
And Fields, from whence all Thebes in Prospect lay:
Encamping here, they rais'd their Tents and eas'd
Their Limbs, fo well the Situation pleas'd.
Beneath an open Tract of Country lies;
No Hills between the Town and them arise,
From whose superior Height the curious Foe
Might mark the Motions in their Camp below.
So well had Nature form'd it's ev'ry Part,
That nought remains improveable by Art.
Here Rocks in Form of lofty Bulwarks rose,
There hollow Vales a Kind of Trench compose,
A Battlement, felf-rais'd, defends each Side.
What more was wanted, their own Hands supply'd, Till Sol retir'd beneath Hefperian Seas,
And Sleep impos'd an Interval of Eafe.
But O what Tongue can speak the wild Affright
Of Thebes, when veil'd in Gloom the fleepless Night
Doubles each Terror of the future Fray,
And menaces the near Approach of Day.`
They run about the Walls; and in their Fears
Amphion's Fortress infecure appears.
Mean while new Horrors of the Foe arife,
Fame fwells their Number, Fear augments their Size..
But when they view the blazing Fires, that show
The Grecian Tents, from off the Mountain's Brow, 680
Their Warrior-Steeds, and Weapons fome exhort,
Others more pious to the Fanes refort,
And tempt the Gods with Sacrifice and Pray'r;
Or in the very Height of their Despair,
Exact a Promife of the burial Rite,
And fun'ral Honours, if they fall in Fight.
Terrific Vifions bring to View their Foes,
And deathful Dreams intrude on their Repofe.
To lose the Life that's loathfome grown, they fear,
And call for Death, but fhun it when 'tis near.
In either Camp the Fury takes her Stand,
And brandishes a Snake in either Hand:
The Chiefs with mutual Hatred fhe infpires;
But both against their aged Parent fires :
Sequefter'd in a diftant Cell he lies,
Implores the Fiends, and re-demands his Eyes.
Now fainter fhone the filver Lamp of Night,
And the Stars fled before the new. born Light,
When Sol, emerging from his watry Bed,
Above the Waves exalts his beaming Head,
679. Fame fwells their Number] Lucan has fome animated Lines on the Terrors that Cafar's Approach caused at Rome. Phar. B. 1.
Barbaricas fævi difcurrere Cæfaris alas:
Ipfum omnes aquilas, collataque figna ferentem,
Agmine non uno, denfisque incedere caftris.
Nec qualem meminere vident: majorque ferusque
Mentibus occurrit, victoque immanior hofte.
And, fcatt'ring from his Wheels the Sparks of Day,
Marks his bright Progrefs with a golden Ray.
Lo! from the Gate her Steps Jocasta bends,
And looks the oldeft of the Sifter Fiends
In Majesty of Woe. Her Colour flies;
Grey hairs o'erhung her Cheeks and haggard Eyes.
Black were her Arms: an Olive-Branch fhe bore,
With Wool of fable Colour wreathed o'er.
Her Daughters, now the better Sex, sustain
The furious Queen, while fhe exerts in vain
Her aged Limbs, that, deftitute of Force,
Bend with her Weight, and faulter in the Course.
She ftands before the Grecians, ftrikes her Breasts
Against the Gates, and movingly requests
Access in Terms like thefe.-Ye hoftile Bands,
The guilty Mother of the War demands
To fee her Son, long abfent from her Sight,
Nor asks it as a Favour, but her Right.
The Troops aftounded, tremble at the View,
But when she spoke, their Fears increafe anew.
The King's Confent obtain'd, without Delay
Through yielding Foes, fecure, fhe takes her Way,
And, as fhe first th' Inachian Leaders eyes,
Vents her outragious Grief in horrid Cries.
Ye Chiefs of Argos, to my Eyes disclose
The worst of Children and the worft of Foes;
O fay, beneath what Helm his Visage lies
Conceal'd, what Arms his well-known Shape difguife.
v. 703. Lo! from the Gate] I cannot but fancy, there is a strong Refemblance between the Portraits of Amata and Jocasta: though the former endeavours to fow the Seeds of War, and the latter to make Peace. The Description of the Interview between the Mother and Son is wrought up to the utmost Height of the Pathos.
While thus fhe fpake, the fummon'd Prince appears;
Forth bubble from his Eyes the joyful Tears.
He clafps her in his Arms, and aw'd with Shame,
Relieves her Pains, and dwells upon her Name.
His Sifters now, his Mother then he tends,
Who thus with Pity juft Reproaches blends.
O Partner of Mycena's fair Domain !
Why doft thou Tears, and Names respectful feign.
And strain thy odious Mother to thy Breast,
Her tender Bofom by thy Armour press'd?
Didft thou a wretched Gueft and Outlaw rove?
What Heart's fo fteely that thou wou'dft not move? 740
The Troops from far expect thy last Commands,
And many a glitt'ring Sword befide thee ftands.
v. 735. O Partner of Mycena's] This Speech of Jocasta breathes very strong of motherly Tenderness and Affection.-She opens it with declaring her Doubts of her Son's Sincerity, then tells him, the Troops are fo much at his Command, that they will easily dismifs their Rage, if they know his Inclinations are for Peace. She next reminds him of her Care and Regard for him, and advises him to try his Brother once more, adding at the fame Time, that if he perfifts in witholding the Crown from him, he will then have a good Pretence for commencing Hoftilities. She then obviates any Sufpicions he might entertain of her Treachery, and ironically prompts him to make him and her Daughters Prisoners.
cludes with an Apoftrophe to the Grecian Princes, wherein the intreats them to make Peace, and use their Influence with her Son, to reconcile him to his Friends, by telling them what Anxieties their Relations undergo in their Abfence.-It is impoffible to point out the Beauties of thefe long Orations, without analyfing them in this Manner, and confidering their several Objects and Motives feparately.
v. 740. What Heart's fo fteely, that thou would't not move] Jocafta fpeaks here interrogatively:-The Senfe is, there is no one, but what is either moved with Terror at the approaching Invasion, or with Compaffion of your Misfortunes.
Alas! the Cares that hapless Mothers prove!
Witnefs, how oft I've wept, ye Pow'rs above.
Yet if thou wilt the Words of Age revere,
And to thy Friends' Advice incline thy Ear,
Now, while the Camp is still, as in the Night,
And Piety fufpends the dreadful Fight,
I pray thee, as a King of mighty Sway,
But charge thee, as my Son, to speed thy Way
To Thebes, and see again thy native Hall,
Before to Vulcan's Rage a Prey it fall.
Once more address thy Brother in my Sight,
And I'll be Judge to ascertain thy Right:
Should he refufe again, he will afford
A better Plea to wield again the Sword.
Deem not, that by thy confcious Mother's Aid,
Perfidious Snares are for thy Ruin laid.
Some Sparks of nat❜ral Love we still retain ;
Such Fears, thy Sire conducting, would be vain. 760
Tis true, I married, and from our Embrace
You sprung, the lafting Badges of Disgrace:
Yet vicious as you are, you fhare my Love :
I pardon, what I yet must disapprove.
But, if thou doft perfiit to play the King,
A Triumph ready to thy Hands we bring.
Come, tie thy captive Sifters' Hands behind,
. And to the Car thy fetter'd Parents bind.
Now to your Shame, O Greeks, my Groans I turn,
For your old Sires, and Babes your Abfence mourn.
Such then (believe me) is the secret Dread,
That Parents feel, fuch Tears at home they shed.
If in fo fhort a Time fo dear he's grown
To you, by whom his Merits fcarce were known,
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