Or how from joining ftones the city sprung,
While to his harp divine Amphion fung?
Or fhall I Juno's hate to Thebes refound,
Whose fatal rage th' unhappy Monarch found;
The fire against the fon his arrows drew,
O'er the wide fields the furious mother flew,
And while her arms her fecond hope contain,
Sprung from the rocks, and plung'd into the main.
But wave whate'er to Cadmus may belong,
And fix, O Muse! the barrier of thy song,
At Oedipus--from his difafters trace
The long confufions of his guilty race.
Nor yet attempt to ftretch thy bolder wing,
And mighty Cæfar's conqu'ring eagles fing;
How twice he tam'd proud Ifter's rapid flood,
While Dacian mountainsftream'd with barb'rous blood;
Twice taught the Rhine beneath his laws to roll,
And stretch'd his empire to the frozen pole;
Or long before, with early valour strove,
In youthful arms t'affert the caufe of Jove.
And thou, great heir of all thy father's fame,
Encrease of glory to the Latian name;
Oh blefs thy Rome with an eternal reign,
Nor let defiring worlds intreat in vain!
What tho' the stars contract their heav'nly space,
And crowd their fhining ranks to yield thee place :
Tho' all the skies, ambitious of thy fway,
Confpire to court thee from our world away;
Tho' Phoebus longs to mix his rays with thine,
And in thy glories more ferenely fhine;
Tho' Jove himself no lefs content would be,
To part his throne and fhare his heav'n with thee;
Yet ftay, great Cæfar! and vouchfafe to reign
O'er the wide earth, and o'er the watry main,
Refign to Jove his empire of the skies,
And people heav'n with Roman Deities.
The time will come when a diviner flame ·
Shall warm my breast to fing of Cafar's fame:
Meanwhile permit, that my preluding Mufe.
In Theban wars an humbler theme may chufe:
Of furious hate furviving death, the fings,
A fatal throne to two contending Kings,
And fun'ral flames, that parting wide in air,
Express the difcord of the fouls they bear:
Of towns difpeopled, and the wand'ring ghosts
Of Kings unbury'd on the wafted coafts;
When Dirce's fountain blufh'd with Grecian blood,
And Thetis, near Ifmenos' fwelling flood,
With dread beheld the rolling furges fweep
In heaps, his flaughter'd fons into the deep.
What hero, Clio! wilt thou first relate?
The raging Tydeus, or the Prophet's fate?
Or how with hills of flain on ev'ry fide,
Hippomedon repell'd the hoftile tyde?
Or how the youth with ev'ry grace adorn'd,
Untimely fell, to be for ever mourn'd?
Then to fierce Capaneus thy verfe extend,
And fing, with horror, his prodigious end.
Now wretched Oedipus, depriv'd of fight,
Led a long death in everlasting night;
But while he dwells where not a chearful ray
Can pierce the darkness, and abhors the day;
The clear, reflecting mind, prefents his fin
In frightful views, and makes it day within;
Returning thoughts in endless circles roll,
And thousand furies haunt his guilty foul.
The wretch then lifted to th' unpitying skies
Thofe empty orbs, from whence he tore his eyes,
Whose wounds yet fresh, with bloody hands he ftrook,
While from his breast these dreadful accents broke.
Ye Gods that o'er the gloomy regions reign
Where guilty spirits feel eternal pain;
Thou, fable Styx! whofe livid ftreams are roll'd
Thro' dreary coafts which I, tho' blind, behold:
Tifiphone, that oft' haft heard my pray❜r,
Affift, if Oedipus deferve thy care!
If you receiv'd me from Jocafta's womb,
And nurs❜d the hope of mischiefs yet to come:
If leaving Polybus, I took my way
To Cyrrha's temple on that fatal day,
When by the fon the trembling father dy'd,
Where the three roads the Phocian fields divide:
If I the Sphynxe's riddles durft explain,
Taught by thy felf to win the promis'd reign:
If wretched I, by baleful furies led,
With monftrous mixture ftain'd my mother's bed,
For hell and thee begot an impious brood,
And with full luft thofe horrid joys renew'd:
Then self-condemn'd to fhades of endless night,
Forc'd from these orbs the bleeding balls of fight.
Oh hear, and aid the vengeance I require,
If worthy thee, and what thou might'It inspire!
My fons their old, unhappy fire defpife,
Spoil'd of his kingdom, and depriv'd of eyes ;
Guideless I wander, unregarded mourn,
While thefe exalt their fcepters o'er my urn;
These fons, ye Gods! who with flagitious pride,
Infult my darkness, and my groans deride.
Art thou a father, unregarding Jove!
And fleeps thy thunder in the realms above?
Thou Fury, then, fome lafting curfe entail,
Which o'er their childrens children fhall prevail:
Place on their heads that crown diftain'd with gore,
Which thefe dire hands from my flain father tore ;
Go, and a parent's heavy curfes bear;
Break all the bonds of nature, and prepare
Their kindred fouls to mutual hate and war.
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