Then wheeling down the steep of heav’n he flies,
And draws a radiant circle o’er the skies.
Meantime the banish’d Polynices roves
(His Thebes abandon’d) thro’ th’ Aonian groves,
While future realms his wand’ring thoughts delight, 445
His daily vision, and his dream by night.
Forbidden Thebes appears before his eye,
From whence he sees his absent brother fly,
With transport views the airy rule his own,
And swells on an imaginary throne. 450
Fain would he cast a tedious age away,
And live out all in one triumphant day:
He chides the lazy progress of the sun,
And bids the year with swifter motion run:
With anxious hopes his craving mind is tost, 455
And all his joys in length of wishes lost.
The hero then resolves his course to bend
Where ancient Danaus’ fruitful fields extend,
And famed Mycene’s lofty towers ascend
(Where late the sun did Atreus’ crimes detest, 460
And disappear’d in horror of the feast);
And now by Chance, by Fate, or Furies led,
From Bacchus’ consecrated caves he fled,
Where the shrill cries of frantic matrons sound,
And Pentheus’ blood enrich’d the rising ground; 465
Then sees Cithæron towering o’er the plain,
And thence declining gently to the main;
Next to the bounds of Nisus’ realm repairs,
Where treach’rous Scylla cut the purple hairs;
The hanging cliffs of Scyron’s rock explores, 470
And hears the murmurs of the diff’rent shores;
Passes the strait that parts the foaming seas,
And stately Corinth’s pleasing site surveys.
‘T was now the time when Phœbus yields to night,
And rising Cynthia sheds her silver light; 475
Wide o’er the world in solemn pomp she drew
Her airy chariot, hung with pearly dew:
All birds and beasts lie hush’d: sleep steals away
The wild desires of men, and toils of day,
And brings, descending thro’ the silent air, 480
A sweet forgetfulness of human care.
Yet no red clouds, with golden borders gay,
Promise the skies the bright return of day;
No faint reflections of the distant light
Streak with long gleams the scatt’ring shades of night; 485
From the damp earth impervious vapours rise,
Increase the darkness, and involve the skies.
At once the rushing winds with roaring sound
Burst from th’ Æolian caves, and rend the ground;
With equal rage their airy quarrel try, 490
And win by turns the kingdom of the sky.
But with a thicker night black Auster shrouds
The heav’ns, and drives on heaps the rolling clouds
From whose dark womb a rattling tempest pours,
Which the cold north congeals to haily showers: 495
From pole to pole the thunder roars aloud,
And broken lightnings flash from every cloud.
Now smokes with showers the misty mountain-ground,
And floated fields lie undistinguish’d round;
Th’ Inachian streams with headlong fury run, 500
And Erasinus rolls a deluge on;
The foaming Lerna swells above its bounds,
And spreads its ancient poisons o’er the grounds;
Where late was dust, now rapid torrents play,
Rush thro’ the mounds, and bear the dams away; 505
Old limbs of trees, from crackling forests torn,
Are whirl’d in air, and on the winds are borne;
The storm the dark Lycæan groves display’d,
And first to light exposed the sacred shade.
Th’ intrepid Theban hears the bursting sky, 510
Sees yawning rocks in massy fragments fly,
And views astonish’d, from the hills afar,
The floods descending, and the wat’ry war,
That, driv’n by storms and pouring o’er the plain,
Swept herds, and hinds, and houses to the main. 515
Thro’ the brown horrors of the night he fled,
Nor knows, amaz’d, what doubtful path to tread;
His brother’s image to his mind appears,
Inflames his heart with rage, and wings his feet with fears.
So fares the sailor on the stormy main, 520
When clouds conceal Boütes’ golden wain,
When not a star its friendly lustre keeps,
Nor trembling Cynthia glimmers on the deeps;
He dreads the rocks, and shoals, and seas, and skies,
While thunder roars, and lightning round him flies. 525
Thus strove the chief, on ev’ry side distress’d;
Thus still his courage with his toils increas’d.
With his broad shield opposed, he forced his way
Thro’ thickest woods, and rous’d the beasts of prey,
Till he beheld where from Larissa’s height 530
The shelving walls reflect a glancing light.
Thither with haste the Theban hero flies;
On this side Lerna’s pois’nous water lies,
On that Prosymna’s grove and temple rise.
He pass’d the gates which then unguarded lay, 535
And to the regal palace bent his way;
On the cold marble, spent with toil, he lies,
And waits till pleasing slumbers seal his eyes.
Adrastus here his happy people sways,
Bless’d with calm peace in his declining days; 540
By both his parents of descent divine,
Great Jove and Phœbus graced his noble line:
Heav’n had not crown’d his wishes with a son,
But two fair daughters heir’d his state and throne.
To him Apollo (wondrous to relate! 545
But who can pierce into the depths of fate?)
Had sung—’Expect thy sons on Argos’ shore,
A yellow lion and a bristly boar.’
This long revolv’d in his paternal breast,
Sat heavy on his heart, and broke his rest; 550
This, great Amphiaraus! lay hid from thee,
Tho’ skill’d in fate and dark futurity.
The father’s care and prophet’s art were vain,
For thus did the predicting God ordain.
Lo, hapless Tydeus! whose ill-fated hand 555
Had slain his brother, leaves his native land,
And, seiz’d with horror in the shades of night,
Thro’ the thick deserts headlong urged his flight:
Now by the fury of the tempest driv’n,
He seeks a shelter from th’ inclement heav’n, 560
Till, led by fate, the Theban’s steps he treads,
And to fair Argos’ open courts succeeds.
When thus the chiefs from diff’rent lands resort
T’ Adrastus’ realms and hospitable court,
The King surveys his guests with curious eyes, 565
And views their arms and habit with surprise.
A lion’s yellow skin the Theban wears,
Horrid his mane, and rough with curling hairs;
Such once employ’d Alcides’ youthful toils,
Ere yet adorn’d with Nemea’s dreadful spoils. 570
A boar’s stiff hide, of Calydonian breed,
Oenides’ manly shoulders overspread;
Oblique his tusks, erect his bristles stood,
Alive the pride and terror of the wood.
Struck with the sight, and fix’d in deep amaze, 575
The King th’ accomplish’d oracle surveys,
Reveres Apollo’s vocal caves, and owns
Th
e guiding godhead and his future sons.
O’er all his bosom secret transports reign,
And a glad horror shoots thro’ ev’ry vein: 580
To Heav’n he lifts his hands, erects his sight,
And thus invokes the silent Queen of Night: —
‘Goddess of shades! beneath whose gloomy reign
Yon spangled arch glows with the starry train;
You who the cares of Heav’n and Earth allay, 585
Till Nature, quicken’d by th’ inspiring ray,
Wakes to new vigour with the rising day;
O thou who freest me from my doubtful state,
Long lost and wilder’d in the maze of Fate,
Be present still, O Goddess! in our aid; 590
Proceed, and ‘firm those omens thou hast made.
We to thy name our annual rites will pay,
And on thy altars sacrifices lay;
The sable flock shall fall beneath the stroke,
And fill thy temples with a grateful smoke. 595
Hail, faithful Tripos! hail, ye dark abodes
Of awful Phœbus; I confess the Gods!’
Thus, seiz’d with sacred fear, the Monarch pray’d;
Then to his inner court the guests convey’d,
Where yet thin fumes from dying sparks arise, 600
And dust yet white upon each altar lies,
The relics of a former sacrifice.
The King once more the solemn rites requires,
And bids renew the feasts and wake the fires.
His train obey; while all the courts around 605
With noisy care and various tumult sound.
Embroider’d purple clothes the golden beds;
This slave the floor, and that the table spreads;
A third dispels the darkness of the night,
And fills depending lamps with beams of light; 610
Here loaves in canisters are piled on high,
And there in flames the slaughter’d victims fly.
Sublime in regal state Adrastus shone,
Stretch’d on rich carpets on his ivory throne;
A lofty couch receives each princely guest; 615
Around, at awful distance, wait the rest.
And now the King, his royal feast to grace,
Acestis calls, the guardian of his race,
Who first their youth in arts of Virtue train’d,
And their ripe years in modest Grace maintain’d; 620
Then softly whisper’d in her faithful ear,
And bade his daughters at the rites appear.
When from the close apartments of the night
The royal nymphs approach divinely bright,
Such was Diana’s, such Minerva’s face, 625
Nor shine their beauties with superior grace,
But that in these a milder charm endears,
And less of terror in their looks appears.
As on the heroes first they cast their eyes,
O’er their fair cheeks the glowing blushes rise; 630
Their downcast looks a decent shame confest,
Then on their father’s rev’rend features rest.
The banquet done, the Monarch gives the sign
To fill the goblet high with sparkling wine.
Which Danaus used in sacred rites of old, 635
With sculpture graced, and rough with rising gold.
Here to the clouds victorious Perseus flies,
Medusa seems to move her languid eyes,
And ev’n in gold, turns paler as she dies:
There from the chase Jove’s towering eagle bears, 640
On golden wings, the Phrygian to the stars;
Still as he rises in th’ ethereal height,
His native mountains lessen to his sight,
While all his sad companions upward gaze,
Fix’d on the glorious scene in wild amaze, 645
And the swift hounds, affrighted as he flies,
Run to the shade, and bark against the skies.
This golden bowl with gen’rous juice was crown’d,
The first libation sprinkled on the ground;
By turns on each celestial Power they call; 650
With Phœbus’ name resounds the vaulted hall.
The courtly train, the strangers, and the rest,
Crown’d with chaste laurel, and with garlands drest,
While with rich gums the fuming altars blaze,
Salute the God in numerous hymns of praise. 655
Then thus the King: ‘Perhaps, my noble guests,
These honour’d altars, and these annual feasts
To bright Apollo’s awful name design’d,
Unknown, with wonder may perplex your mind.
Great was the cause: our old solemnities 660
From no blind zeal or fond tradition rise;
But saved from death, our Argives yearly pay
These grateful honours to the God of Day.
‘When by a thousand darts the Python slain
With orbs unroll’d lay cov’ring all the plain, 665
(Transfix’d as o’er Castalia’s streams he hung,
And suck’d new poisons with his triple tongue)
To Argos’ realms the victor God resorts,
And enters old Crotopus’ humble courts.
This rural prince one only daughter bless’d, 670
That all the charms of blooming youth possess’d;
Fair was her face, and spotless was her mind,
Where filial love with virgin sweetness join’d.
Happy! and happy still she might have prov’d,
Were she less beautiful, or less belov’d! 675
But Phœbus lov’d, and on the flowery side
Of Nemea’s stream the yielding Fair enjoy’d.
Now ere ten moons their orb with light adorn,
Th’ illustrious offspring of the God was born;
The nymph, her father’s anger to evade, 680
Retires from Argos to the sylvan shade;
To woods and wilds the pleasing burden bears,
And trusts her infant to a shepherd’s cares.
‘How mean a fate, unhappy child, is thine!
Ah! how unworthy those of race divine! 685
On flow’ry herbs in some green covert laid,
His bed the ground, his canopy the shade,
He mixes with the bleating lambs his cries,
While the rude swain his rural music tries,
To call soft slumbers on his infant eyes. 690
Yet ev’n in those obscure abodes to live
Was more, alas! than cruel Fate would give;
For on the grassy verdure as he lay,
And breathed the freshness of the early day,
Devouring dogs the helpless infant tore, 695
Fed on his trembling limbs, and lapp’d the gore.
Th’ astonish’d mother, when the rumour came,
Forgets her father, and neglects her fame;
With loud complaints she fills the yielding air,
And beats her breast, and rends her flowing hair; 700
Then wild with anguish to her sire she flies,
Demands the sentence, and contented dies.
‘But touch’d with sorrow for the dead too late,
The raging God prepares t’ avenge her fate.
He sends a monster horrible and fell, 705
Begot by furies in the depths of Hell.
The pest a virgin’s face and bosom bears;
High on her crown a rising snake appears,
Guards her black front, and hisses in her hairs.
About the realm she walks her dreadful round, 710
When night with sable wings o’erspreads the ground,
Devours young babes before their parents’ eyes,
And feeds and thrives on public miseries.
‘But gen’rous rage the bold Chorœbus warms,
Chorœbus! famed for virtue as for arms; 715
Some
few like him, inspired with martial flame,
Thought a short life well lost for endless fame.
These, where two ways in equal parts divide,
The direful monster from afar descried,
Two bleeding babes depending at her side; 720
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 Chorœbus in the front appears;
Deep in her breast he plunged his shining sword, 725
And Hell’s dire monster back to Hell restor’d.
Th’ Inachians view the slain with vast surprise,
Her twisting volumes and her rolling eyes,
Her spotted breast and gaping womb imbrued
With livid poison and our children’s blood. 730
The crowd in stupid wonder fix’d appear,
Pale ev’n in joy, nor yet forget to fear.
Some with vast beams the squalid corse engage,
And weary all the wild efforts of rage.
The birds obscene, that nightly flock’d to taste, 735
With hollow screeches fled the dire repast;
And rav’nous dogs, allured by scented blood,
And starving wolves, ran howling to the wood.
‘But fired with rage, from cleft Parnassus’ brow
Avenging Phœbus bent his deadly bow, 740
And hissing flew the feather’d fates below.
A night of sultry clouds involv’d around
The towers, the fields, and the devoted ground:
And now a thousand lives together fled,
Death with his scythe cut off the fatal thread, 745
And a whole province in his triumph led.
‘But Phœbus, ask’d why noxious fires appear
And raging Sirius blasts the sickly year,
Demands their lives by whom his monster fell,
And dooms a dreadful sacrifice to Hell. 750
‘Bless’d be thy dust, and let eternal fame
Attend thy Manes, and preserve thy Name,
Undaunted Hero! who, divinely brave,
In such a cause disdain’d thy life to save,
But view’d the shrine with a superior look, 755
And its upbraided godhead thus bespoke:
“With Piety, the soul’s securest guard,
And conscious Virtue, still its own reward,
Willing I come, unknowing how to fear,
Nor shalt thou, Phœbus, find a suppliant here: 760
Thy monster’s death to me was owed alone,
And ‘t is a deed too glorious to disown.
Behold him here, for whom, so many days,
Impervious clouds conceal’d thy sullen rays;
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
Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series Page 3
