Give them to dare, what I might wish to fee,
Blind as I am, fome glorious villany!
Soon fhalt thou find, if thou but arm their hands,
Their ready guilt preventing thy commands:
Could'st thou fome great, proportion'd mifchiefframe;
They'd prove the father from whose loins they came
The fury heard, while on Cocytus' brink
Her fnakes, unty'd, fulphureous waters drink;
But at the fummons, roll'd her eyes around,
And snatch'd the starting ferpents from the ground.
Not half fo fwiftly fhoots along in air
The gliding light'ning, or defcending star.
Thro' crouds of airy fhades the wing'd her flight,
And dark dominions of the filent night;
Swift as the pass'd, the flitting ghosts withdrew,
And the pale spectres trembled at her view;
To th' iron gates of Tenarus fhe flies,
There spreads her dusky pinions to the skies.
The day beheld, and fickning at the fight,
Veil'd her fair glories in the fhades of night.
Affrighted Atlas, on the diftant fhore,
Trembl❜d, and fhook the heav'ns and gods he bore,
Now from beneath Malea's airy height
Aloft she sprung, and steer'd to Thebes her flight;
With eager speed the well-known journey took,
Nor here regrets the hell fhe late forfook.
A hundred fnakes her gloomy visage shade,
A hundred ferpents guard her horrid head,
In her funk eye-balls dreadful meteors glow,
Such rays from Phoebe's bloody circle flow,
When lab'ring with strong charms, the shoots from high
A fiery gleam, and reddens all the sky.
Blood ftain'd her cheeks, and from her mouth there came
Blue fteaming poisons, and a length of flame ;
From ev'ry blaft of her contagious breath,
Famine and drought proceed, and plagues, and death:
A robe obfcene was o'er her fhoulders thrown,
A drefs by fates and furies worn alone:
She tofs'd her meagre arms; her better hand
In waving circles whirl'd a fun'ral brand;
A ferpent from her left, was feen to rear
His flaming creft, and lafh the yielding air.
But when the fury took her ftand on high,
Where vaft Cytheron's top falutes the sky,
A hifs from all the fnaky tire went round;
The dreadful fignal all the rocks rebound,
And thro' th' Achaian cities fend the found.
Oete, with high Parnaffus, heard the voice; i
Eurota's banks remurmur'd to the noise;
Again Leuchtboë fhook at thefe alarms,
And prefs'd Palemon clofer in her arms.
Headlong from thence the glowing fury springs,
And o'er the Theban palace fpreads her wings,
Once more invades the guilty dome, and fhrouds
Its bright pavilions in a veil of clouds, hi
Strait with the * rage of all their race poffeft,
Stung to the foul, the brothers ftart from rest,
And all the furies wake within their breast.
Their tortur'd minds repining envy tears,
And hate, engender'd by fufpicious fears ;
And facred thirst of fway; and all the ties
Of nature broke; and royal perjuries;
And impotent defire to reign alone,
That fcorns the dull reverfion of a throne;
* Gentilifque animos fubit furor, feems to me a better reading than Gentilefque.
Each would the fweets of fov'reign rule devour,
While difcord waits. upon divided pow'r.
As ftubborn steers by brawny plowmen broke, And join'd reluctant to the galling yoke, Memo Alike difdain with fervile necks to bear
Th'unwonted weight, or drag the crooked fhare,,j
But rend the reins, and bound a diff'rent way, e
And all the furrows in confufion lay:
Such was the difcord of the royal pair,
Whom fury drove precipitate to war.
In vain the chiefs contriv'd a fpecious way,
To govern Thebes by their alternate fway;
Unjust decree! while this enjoys the state,
That mourns in exile his unequal fate;
And the short monarch of a hafty year
Forefees with anguish his returning heir.
Thus did this league their impious arms restrain,
But fcarce fubfifted to the fecond reign.
Yet then no proud afpiring piles were rais'd, Whose fretted roofs with polifh'd metals blaz'd, No labour'd columns in long order plac'd, No Grecian stone the pompous arches grac'd
Nor nightly bands in glitt ring armour wait
Before the fleepless Tyrant's guarded gate:
No chargers then were wrought in burnish'd Gold,
Nor filver vases took the forming mold,
Nor gems on bowls embofs'd were feen to shine,
Blaze on the brims, and fparkle in the wine---
Say, wretched rivals! what provokes your rage?
Say to what end your impious arms engage?
Not all bright Phoebus views in early morn,
Or when his evening beams the west adorn,
When the fouth glows with his meridian ray,
And the cold north receives a fainter day;
For crimes like these, not all thofe realms fuffice,
Were all those realms the guilty victor's prize!
But fortune now (the lots of empire thrown)
Decrees to proud Etheocles the crown :
What joys, oh Tyrant! fwell'd thy foul that day,
When all were flaves thou could'st around furvey,
Pleas'd to behold unbounded pow'r thy own,
And fingly fill a fear'd and envy'd throne!
But the vile vulgar, ever discontent,
Their growing fears in fecret murmurs vent;
Ffff
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