Most terribly, hath Bacchus on thy house
Pour'd down his vengeance.

BACCHUS.

Dreadful wrongs from you

I suffer'd, no due honours to my name

Were paid in Thebes.

AGAVE.

Farewell, my Sire.

CADMUS.

To you

I also bid farewell, my wretched Daughter,
But what I wish, you scarcely can attain.

AGAVE.

Conduct me to my Sisters, ye who guide My wretched steps, that I may take them with me The partners of my flight. For I will go Where the polluted mountain of Citharon Rears not its summit, ne'er will I behold That scene of horrors, nor recall to mind How erst I bore a thyrsus: let the rest Of Bacchus' followers oe'r these rites preside.

CHORUS.

A thousand shapes our varying Fates assume, The Gods perform what least we could expect, And oft the things for which we fondly hop'd Come not to pass: Heaven finds a clue to guide Our steps thro' the perplexing maze of life, And thus doth this important business end.

1

THE CYCLOPS.

Domus sanie dapibusque cruentis

Intus opaca ingens: ipse arduus, altaque pulsat
Sidera. Dii, talem terris avertite pestem!

Venustissimum et ab ipsis Gratiis compositum hoc Poema.

VIRGIL.

PIERSONI VERISIMILIA,

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.

SILENUS.

CHORUS OF SATYRS.

ULYSSES.

POLYPHEME THE CYCLOPS.

SCENE THE MOUNTAIN OF ETNA IN SICILY.

THE CYCLOPS.

SILENUS.

O BACCHUS, for thy sake have I endur'd

Unnumber'd toils, both at the present hour,

And when these nerves by vigorous youth were strung:
By Juno first with wild distraction fir'd,

Thou didst forsake the mountain Nymphs whose care
Nurtur'd thy infancy. Next in that war
With the gigantic progeny of Earth,
Station'd beside thee to sustain thy shield,
Piercing the buckler of Enceladus,

I slew him with my lance. Is this a dream?
By Jove it is not: for I shew'd his spoils
To Bacchus, and the labours I endure
At present, are so great that they exceed

E'en those. For since 'gainst thee Saturnia rous'd,
To bear thee far away, Etruria's race

Of impious pirates, I soon caught th❜ alarm,
And sail'd in quest of thee with all my children:
Myself the stern ascended, to direct

The rudder, and each Satyr plied an oar

Till ocean's azure surface with white foam

Was cover'd; thee, O mighty King, they sought.
Near Malea's harbour as the vessel rode,

An Eastern blast arose, and to this rock

Of Ætna, drove us, where the Sons of Neptune,
The one-ey'd Cyclops, drench'd with human gore,
Inhabit desert caves; by one of these

Were we made captives, and beneath his roof
To slavery are reduc'd. Our Master's name
Is Polypheme; instead of Bacchus' orgies
We tend the flocks of an accursed Cyclops.
My blooming Sons, on yonder distant cliffs,
Feed the young lambs; while I at home am station'd