Hard was his Lot. Yet ftill relentless Fate
Forbad him to enjoy this poor Retreat:
For while abandon'd to blind Fortune's Care,
Beneath the Shade he breathes the Morning Air,
The furious Dogs his tender Carcase tore,
And fed luxurious on the recent Gore.
But when the Tidings reach'd the Mother's Ears, 805
Unmindful of her former Shame and Fears,
She raves, the Palace fills with piercing Cries,
Nor fhuns her Father's once-avoided Eyes:
Then hears, impatient of her vital Breath,
The fatal Sentence, and demands her Death.
But Phabus, mindful of his stol'n Embrace,
Prepares t' avenge her Suff'rings and Difgrace,
And bids ascend, to plague the guilty Earth,
A horrid Monfter of infernal Birth:
Her Face and Breast a female Form disclose,
But from her Head a crefted Serpent rose,
Whose hideous Length difparts her livid Brows,
And from afar with dreadful Splendour glows,
When fav'ring Night the busy World o'erspreads,
She roams the Streets, or haunts the Childrens Beds, 820
Configns to Pluto, and a fudden Night
Those new-born Babes, who scarce had feen the Light, And, unrefifted by the heartless Foe,
Thrives, and collects fresh Strength from public Woe.
With Grief Choræbus ey'd the wasteful Pest,
And gen'rous Rage inflam'd his Patriot Breaft;
To some few chofen Youths, who Life disclaim,
And think it overfold to purchase Fame,
v. 827. Who Life difclaim] This Expression is made use of by Virgil.
He pleads his Country's Cause, and undifmay'd
Extorts a Promife of united Aid.
These foon defcry'd her, fir'd with vengeful Hate,
Where the broad Path, divided, fronts the Gate :..
Two Infants, borne from fome unguarded Dome,
Hang at her Side, unconscious, what's to come,
Till her fharp Claws explore their inner Parts,
And seek the nearest Paffage to their Hearts.
So fad a Sight Chorabus could not bear,
But buried in her Breaft his rufhing Spear.
The Springs of Life emit their crimson Store,
And thro' the Gap, discharg'd in iffuing Gore,
Her Soul revifits the Tartarean Coaft,
And native Styx, a lonely, dreaded Ghost.
Eager they prefs to view the Monster's Eyes
Livid in Death, her Womb's enormous Size,
And Breasts more filthy with the clotted Blood.
Of Grecian Babes.The Youths of Argos ftood
In Wonder loft; and to their recent Tears
Great Joys fucceed, but Joys appall'd with Fears.
Their fole Vexation now remains to find
Their Rage exhaufted, their Revenge confin'd.
Some feem difpleas'd, they can no longer kill,
And wifh their Pow'r was equal to their Will:
Whilst others mangling her detefted Corse
With furious Zeal her Limbs afunder force.
Eft hic eft animus lucis contemptor, et iftum,
Qui vitâ bene credat emi, quò tendis, honorem.
Eneid, V. 206, B. 9.
And by Tao with little Variation.
Ho core anch' io, che morte fprezza, e crede
Che ben fi cambi con l'onor la vita.
Gierus, Lib. Canto 12. Stanza 8.
To distant Rocfts the Birds of Night repair,
And fhriek, impatient of the fcented Air:
E'en hungry Dogs, and Monsters of the Wood
Start from the Sight, and loath the direful Food.
This but increas'd Apollo's former Hate,
And urg'd him to revenge the Monster's Fate.
From cleft Parnaffus' Heights He bent his Bow,
And hurl'd his Vengeance on the Realms below.
Around the God unnumber'd Mischiefs wait,
And ev'ry Shaft contains refiftless Fate.
While o'er th' Horizon gath'ring Clouds arife,
Fraught with Destruction, and infect the Skies.
Death cuts the fatal Sifters' Threads in Hafte,
And the difpeopled City foons lays waste.
But Phebus afk'd, from what mysterious Source
Sirius deriv'd fuch unrefifted Force,
Demands thofe Youths, whose Hands in Duft had laid
The Monster's Pride, to glut her vengeful Shade. Thrice happy Warrior! may thy Worth be crown'd With Fame, nor Length of Time thy Glory bound; Who, nobly lavish of thy vital Breath,
Difdain'ft to fhun inevitable Death:
v. 859 This but increas'd] It will not perhaps be difpleafing to the Reader, if I fubjoin the following Paffage from Homer, to give him an Opportunity of comparing it with what he has just read. Ὣς ἔρατ ̓ εὐχόμενος τῆ δ ̓ ἔκλυς φεῖον. ̓Απόλλων. Βῆ δὲ κατ' Ουλύμποιο καρήνων χωόμενο κῆρ, Τόξ' ώμοισιν έχαν, αμφηρεφέα τε φαρέτρην. Εκλαγξαν δ' αρ' οἴσοὶ ἐπ' ώμων χωομένοιο, Αὐτῷ κινηθέντα. ὁ δ ̓ ἤμε νυκτὶ ἐοικώς. Εζετ' ἔπειτ' απάνευθε νεῶν, μετὰ δ ̓ ἐὸν ἕηκε. Δεινὴ δε κλαγὴ γένετ' αργυρέοιο βιοιο. Οὐρκας μὲν πρῶτον ἐπώχετο, καὶ κύνας δεγές. Αὐτὰρ ἐπειτ' αὐτοῖσι βέλΘ- έχεπευκές αφιείς,
Βάλ' αιεὶ δὲ πυραὶ νεκύων καίοντο θαμειαι. Iliad, L. 1. V. 43.
And, rufhing to the Temple, durft provoke
The raging God, and thus demand the Stroke.
Think not Defire of Life, or public Force
Hath to thy Fane, O Phæbus, urg'd my Courfe: 880.
With confcious Virtue arm'd, thy Will I wait,
To fave my Country, and avert its Fate.
Behold the Man, who durft in Fight engage
His Country's Peft, and bound its wafteful Rage:
Whom to revenge, the Sun withheld its Light,
And wrapt the Skies in peftilential Night.
But if fuch horrid Scenes thy Thoughts employ,
And Death and Slaughter are thy favage Joy;
If. Man no more muft thy Protection claim,
Since the Fiend's Death has fann'd thy vengeful Flame. Yet why fhou'd Argos for my Crimes atone,
And share the Vengeance due to me alone?
Let me be deem'd the hateful Caufe of all,
And fuffer, rather than my Country fall;
Unless you view with Joy our defert Town,
And fun'ral Flames, unrivall'd by your own.
But why do I the fatal Dart arrest,
And torture with Sufpenfe each Matron's Breast?
Then fit the Arrow to the well-ftrung Bow,
And send me glorying to the Shades below.
v. 891. Yet why should Argos] Tafso has put the fame noble Sentiment in the Mouth of Sophronia, but with an additional Beauty of Expreffion.
E giusto, effer à mi conviene
Se fui fola al' onor, fola alle pene.
And a little lower.
A me l'Onor, la morte à me fi deve,
Non s' ufurpi coftei le pene mie.
Gieurufalem, Lib. Canto 2.
But, ere the Fates fupprefs my vital Breath,
Grant me to see (fome Solace in my Death)
The Plague in unoffending Argos cease,
And exil'd Health reftor'd again to Greece.
Fortune configns the Coward to the Grave,
But for his Country's Sake preferves the Brave.
Relenting Phebus quits his angry Bow,
And blushing longer to remain a Foe,
With Rev'rence bids th' unwilling Patriot live,
And Health and Peace in forrowing Greece revive. 910
From that aufpicious Day with Rites divine,
We worship at Apollo's honour'd Shrine:
Such annual Feasts his temp'rate Rays require,
And thus we shun the God's returning Ire.
But fay, illuftrious Youth, from whence you came, 915
From whence derive your Birth, and what's your Claim?
Since the brave Son of Oeneus ftands confeft,
A welcome Neighbour, and more welcome Guest,
And the full Bowl, and filent Hours invite
With various Converfe to contract the Night.
A rifing Blush o'erspreads the Theban Chief,
Yet glowing with the Prospect of Relief,
Prone to the Earth he fix'd his gloomy Eyes,
And with a previous Sigh at length replies.
Before these Altars how fhall I reveal,
What conscious Shame injoins me to conceal?
Too happy! was my Fortune not more known
To Fame than you, or known to you alone.
But fince you take fuch Int'reft in my Woe,
And the difaft'rous Tale defire to know,
Learn, that from Cadmus by Defcent I come,
Jocasta's Son, and Thebes my native Home.
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