"But say, illustrious guest" (adjoined the king) 790 "What name you bear, from what high race you
The noble Tydeus stands confessed, and known
Our neighbour prince, and heir of Calydon.
Relate your fortunes, while the friendly night
And silent hours to various talk invite."
The Theban bends on earth his gloomy eyes,
Confused, and sadly thus at length replies :
"Before these altars how shall I proclaim
(Oh, generous prince) my nation or my name,
Or through what veins our ancient blood has rolled? Let the sad tale for ever rest untold!
Yet if propitious to a wretch unknown,
You seek to share in sorrows not your own;
Know then from Cadmus I derive my race,
Jocasta's son, and Thebes my native place."
To whom the king (who felt his generous breast
Touched with concern for his unhappy guest)
Replies "Ah, why forbears the son to name
His wretched father known too well by fame?
Fame, that delights around the world to stray,
Scorns not to take our Argos in her way,
E'en those who dwell where suns at distance roll,
In northern wilds, and freeze beneath the pole;
And those who tread the burning Libyan lands,
The faithless Syrtes and the moving sands;
Who view the western sea's extremest bounds,
Or drink of Ganges in their eastern grounds;
All these the woes of Oedipus have known,
Your fates, your furies, and your haunted town.
If on the sons the parents' crimes descend,
What prince from those his lineage can defend?
Be this thy comfort, that 'tis thine to efface
With virtuous acts thy ancestor's disgrace,
And be thyself the honour of thy race.
But see! the stars begin to steal away,
And shine more faintly at approaching day;
Now pour the wine; and in your tuneful lays
Once more resound the great Apollo's praise."
"Oh, father Phoebus! whether Lycia's coast
And snowy mountains thy bright presence boast; 830
Whether to sweet Castalia thou repair,
And bathe in silver dews thy yellow hair;
Or pleased to find fair Delos float no more,
Delight in Cynthus, and the shady shore;
Or choose thy seat in Ilion's proud abodes,
The shining structures raised by labouring gods,
By thee the bow and mortal shafts are borne;
Eternal charms thy blooming youth adorn:
Skilled in the laws of secret fate above,
And the dark counsels of almighty Jove,
'Tis thine the seeds of future war to know,
The change of sceptres, and impending woe;
When direful meteors spread through glowing air
Long trails of light, and shake their blazing hair.
Thy rage the Phrygian felt, who durst aspire
To excel the music of thy heavenly lyre;
Thy shafts avenged lewd Tityus' guilty flame,
The immortal victim of thy mother's fame;
Thy hand slew Python, and the dame who lost
Her numerous offspring for a fatal boast.
In Phlegyas' doom thy just revenge appears,
Condemned to furies and eternal fears;
He views his food, but dreads, with lifted eye,
The mouldering rock that trembles from on high.
"Propitious hear our prayer, O power divine! And on thy hospitable Argos shine,
Whether the style of Titan please thee more,
Whose purple rays the Achæmenes adore;
Or great Osiris, who first taught the swain
In Pharian fields to sow the golden grain;
Or Mitra, to whose beams the Persian bows,
And pays, in hollow rocks, his awful vows;
Mitra, whose head the blaze of light adorns,
Who grasps the struggling heifer's lunar horns."
IMITATIONS OF ENGLISH POETS.
DONE BY THE AUTHOR IN HIS YOUTH.
I.-CHAUCER.
WOMEN ben full of ragerie,
Yet swinken not sans secresie.
Thilke moral shall ye understond,
From schoole-boy's tale of fayre Irelond:
Which to the Fennes hath him betake,
To filch the gray ducke fro the lake.
Right then, there passen by the way
His aunt, and eke her daughters tway.
Ducke in his trowses hath he hent,
Not to be spied of ladies gent.
"But ho! our nephew, (crieth one)
"Ho!" quoth another, "Cozen John;"
And stoppen, and lough, and callen out,-
This sely clerk full low doth lout:
They asken that, and talken this,
"Lo here is coz, and here is miss."
But, as he glozeth with speeches soote,
The ducke sore tickleth his erse-roote:
Fore-piece and buttons all-to-brest,
Forth thrust a white neck, and red crest.
"Te-he," cried ladies; clerke nought spake :
Miss stared; and gray ducke crieth quake.
"O moder, moder," (quoth the daughter)
"Be thilke same thing maids longer a'ter?
Bette is to pyne on coals and chalke,
Then trust on mon, whose yerde can talke.”
In every town, where Thamis rolls his tyde,
A narrow pass there is, with houses low;
Where ever and anon, the stream is eyed,
And many a boat soft sliding to and fro.
There oft are heard the notes of infant woe,
The short thick sob, loud scream, and shriller squall : How can ye, mothers, vex your children so?
Some play, some eat, some cack against the wall, And as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call.
And on the broken pavement, here and there,
Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie;
A brandy and tobacco shop is near,
And hens, and dogs, and hogs are feeding by;
And here a sailor's jacket hangs to dry.
At every door are sunburnt matrons seen,
Mending old nets to catch the scaly fry;
Now singing shrill, and scolding eft between ;
Scolds answer foul-mouthed scolds; bad neighbourhood
The snappish cur, (the passengers annoy)
Close at my heel with yelping treble flies;
The whimpering girl, and hoarser-screaming boy,
Join to the yelping treble shrilling cries;
The scolding quean to louder notes doth rise,
And her full pipes those shrilling cries confound;
To her full pipes the grunting hog replies;
The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours round, And curs, girls, boys, and scolds, in the deep bass are drowned.
Hard by a sty, beneath a roof of thatch,
Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days
Baskets of fish at Billingsgate did watch,
Cod, whiting, oyster, mackrel, sprat, or plaice:
There learned she speech from tongues that never cease.
Slander beside her, like a magpie, chatters,
With envy, (spitting cat) dread foe to peace;
Like a cursed cur, malice before her clatters,
And vexing every wight, tears clothes and all to tatters.
Her dugs were marked by every collier's hand,
Her mouth was black as bull-dogs at the stall:
She scratched, bit, and spared ne lace ne band,
And bitch and rogue her answer was to all;
Nay, e'en the parts of shame by name would call :
Yea, when she passed by or lane or nook,
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