The Epigoniad A Poem. In Nine Books. By William Wilkie, The Second Edition, Carefully Corrected and Improved. To which is Added, A Dream. In the Manner of Spenser. [by William Winkie] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. | BOOK VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
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 | The Epigoniad |  |
139
BOOK VII.
Now silent night the middle space possest,
Of heav'n, or journey'd downwards to the west;
But Creon, still with thirst of vengeance fir'd,
Repose declin'd, nor from his toils respir'd;
But held his peers in council to debate
Plans for revenge suggested by his hate.
Before the king Dienices appear'd;
To speak his tidings sad, the hero fear'd;
Return'd from Oeta; thither sent to call
Alcides to protect his native wall.
Of heav'n, or journey'd downwards to the west;
But Creon, still with thirst of vengeance fir'd,
Repose declin'd, nor from his toils respir'd;
But held his peers in council to debate
Plans for revenge suggested by his hate.
Before the king Dienices appear'd;
To speak his tidings sad, the hero fear'd;
Return'd from Oeta; thither sent to call
Alcides to protect his native wall.
And Creon thus: Dienices! explain
Your sorrow; are our hopes of aid in vain?
Does Hercules neglect his native soil;
While strangers reap the harvest of his toil?
We from your silence cannot hope success;
But further ills your falling tears confess:
Cleon my son is dead; his fate you mourn;
I must not hope to see his safe return.
Sure, if he liv'd, he had not come the last;
But found his father with a filial haste.
His fate, at once, declare, you need not fear,
With any tale of grief, to wound mine ear,
Proof to misfortune: for the man, who knows,
The whole variety of human woes,
Can stand unmov'd tho' loads of sorrow press;
Practis'd to bear, familiar with distress.
Your sorrow; are our hopes of aid in vain?
Does Hercules neglect his native soil;
While strangers reap the harvest of his toil?
We from your silence cannot hope success;
But further ills your falling tears confess:
Cleon my son is dead; his fate you mourn;
I must not hope to see his safe return.
140
But found his father with a filial haste.
His fate, at once, declare, you need not fear,
With any tale of grief, to wound mine ear,
Proof to misfortune: for the man, who knows,
The whole variety of human woes,
Can stand unmov'd tho' loads of sorrow press;
Practis'd to bear, familiar with distress.
The monarch question'd thus; and thus the youth;
Too well thy boding fear has found the truth.
Cleon is dead; the hero's ashes lie
Where Pelion's lofty head ascends the sky.
For as, on Oeta's top, he vainly strove
To win the arrows of the son of Jove;
Compelling Philoctetes, to resign,
The friend of Hercules, his arms divine;
The insult to repel, an arrow flew,
And from his heart the vital current drew:
Prostrate he sunk; and welling from the wound,
A flood of gore impurpled all the ground.
Too well thy boding fear has found the truth.
Cleon is dead; the hero's ashes lie
Where Pelion's lofty head ascends the sky.
For as, on Oeta's top, he vainly strove
To win the arrows of the son of Jove;
Compelling Philoctetes, to resign,
The friend of Hercules, his arms divine;
The insult to repel, an arrow flew,
And from his heart the vital current drew:
Prostrate he sunk; and welling from the wound,
A flood of gore impurpled all the ground.
Thus spoke Dienices. The king supprest
His big distress, and lock'd it in his breast:
Sighing he thus reply'd: The cause declare,
Which holds the great Alcides from the war;
And why another now, the bow commands
And arrows, sacred from his mighty hands.
Nor fear my valiant son's untimely fate,
With all its weight of sorrow, to relate:
All I can bear. Against my naked head,
I see the vengeance of the gods decreed;
With hostile arms beset my tott'ring reign;
The people wasted, and my children slain.
Attempts prove fruitless; ev'ry hope deceives;
Success in prospect, disappointment gives:
With swift approach, I see destruction come;
But with a mind unmov'd, I'll meet my doom;
Nor stain this war-worn visage with a tear,
Since all that heav'n has purpos'd, I can bear.
The monarch thus his rising grief suppress'd;
And thus the peers Dienices address'd:
His big distress, and lock'd it in his breast:
Sighing he thus reply'd: The cause declare,
Which holds the great Alcides from the war;
And why another now, the bow commands
And arrows, sacred from his mighty hands.
Nor fear my valiant son's untimely fate,
With all its weight of sorrow, to relate:
141
I see the vengeance of the gods decreed;
With hostile arms beset my tott'ring reign;
The people wasted, and my children slain.
Attempts prove fruitless; ev'ry hope deceives;
Success in prospect, disappointment gives:
With swift approach, I see destruction come;
But with a mind unmov'd, I'll meet my doom;
Nor stain this war-worn visage with a tear,
Since all that heav'n has purpos'd, I can bear.
The monarch thus his rising grief suppress'd;
And thus the peers Dienices address'd:
Princes of Thebes! and thou, whose sov'reign hand
Sways the dread sceptre of supreme command!
To what I offer, lend an equal ear;
The truth I'll speak, and judge me when you hear.
If Cleon, by my fault, no more returns,
For whom, her second hope, his country mourns;
No doom I deprecate, no torture fly,
Which justice can denounce, or rage supply:
But if my innocence appears, I claim
Your censure to escape, and public blame.
Sways the dread sceptre of supreme command!
To what I offer, lend an equal ear;
The truth I'll speak, and judge me when you hear.
If Cleon, by my fault, no more returns,
For whom, her second hope, his country mourns;
No doom I deprecate, no torture fly,
Which justice can denounce, or rage supply:
But if my innocence appears, I claim
Your censure to escape, and public blame.
From Marathon by night our course we steer'd,
And pass'd Gerastus when the day appear'd;
Andros we saw, with promontories steep,
Ascend; and Delos level with the deep.
A circuit wide; for where Euripus roars
Between Eubœa and the Theban shores,
The Argives had dispos'd their naval train;
And prudence taught to shun the hostile plain,
Four days we sail'd; the fifth our voyage ends,
Where Oeta, sloping to the sea, descends.
The vales I search'd, and woody heights above,
Guided by fame, to find the son of Jove;
With Cleon only: for we charg'd the band
To stay, and guard our vessel on the strand.
In vain we search'd; but when the lamp of day
Approach'd the ocean with its setting ray,
A cave appear'd, which from a mountain steep,
Thro' a low valley, look'd into the deep.
Thither we turn'd our weary steps, and found
The cavern hung with savage spoils around;
The wolf's grey furr, the wild boar's shaggy hide,
The lion's mane, the panther's speckled pride:
These signs we mark'd; and knew the rocky seat,
Some solitary hunter's wild retreat.
Farther invited by a glimm'ring ray,
Which thro' the darkness shed uncertain day,
In the recesses of the cave we found
The club of Hercules; and wrapt around,
Which, seen before, we knew, the lion's spoils,
The mantle which he wore in all his toils.
Amaz'd we stood; in silence, each his mind
To fear and hope alternately resign'd:
With joy we hop'd to find the hero near;
The club and mantle found, dispos'd to fear.
His force invincible in fight we knew,
Which nought of mortal kind could e'er subdue,
But fear'd Apollo's might, or his who heaves
The solid earth, and rules the stormy waves.
And pass'd Gerastus when the day appear'd;
Andros we saw, with promontories steep,
Ascend; and Delos level with the deep.
A circuit wide; for where Euripus roars
Between Eubœa and the Theban shores,
142
And prudence taught to shun the hostile plain,
Four days we sail'd; the fifth our voyage ends,
Where Oeta, sloping to the sea, descends.
The vales I search'd, and woody heights above,
Guided by fame, to find the son of Jove;
With Cleon only: for we charg'd the band
To stay, and guard our vessel on the strand.
In vain we search'd; but when the lamp of day
Approach'd the ocean with its setting ray,
A cave appear'd, which from a mountain steep,
Thro' a low valley, look'd into the deep.
Thither we turn'd our weary steps, and found
The cavern hung with savage spoils around;
The wolf's grey furr, the wild boar's shaggy hide,
The lion's mane, the panther's speckled pride:
These signs we mark'd; and knew the rocky seat,
Some solitary hunter's wild retreat.
Farther invited by a glimm'ring ray,
Which thro' the darkness shed uncertain day,
In the recesses of the cave we found
The club of Hercules; and wrapt around,
Which, seen before, we knew, the lion's spoils,
The mantle which he wore in all his toils.
Amaz'd we stood; in silence, each his mind
To fear and hope alternately resign'd:
With joy we hop'd to find the hero near;
The club and mantle found, dispos'd to fear.
His force invincible in fight we knew,
Which nought of mortal kind could e'er subdue,
143
The solid earth, and rules the stormy waves.
Pond'ring we stood; when on the roof above,
The tread of feet descending thro' the grove
Which crown'd the hollow cliff, amaz'd we heard;
And straight before the cave a youth appear'd.
A bleeding buck across his shoulders flung,
Ty'd with a rope of twisted rushes, hung.
He dropt his burden in the gate, and plac'd,
Against the pillar'd cliff, his bow unbrac'd.
'Twas then our footsteps in the cave he heard,
And thro' the gloom our shining arms appear'd.
His bow he bent; and backwards from the rock
Retir'd, and, of our purpose quest'ning, spoke:
Say who you are, who seek this wild abode,
Thro' desert paths, by mortals rarely trod?
If just, and with a fair intent you come,
Friendship expect, and safety in my dome:
But if for violence, your danger learn,
And trust my admonition when I warn:
Certain as fate, where'er this arrow flies,
The hapless wretch, who meets its fury, dies:
No buckler to resist its point avails,
The hammer'd cuirass yields, the breast-plate fails;
And where it once has drawn the purple gore,
No charm can cure, no med'cine health restore.
The tread of feet descending thro' the grove
Which crown'd the hollow cliff, amaz'd we heard;
And straight before the cave a youth appear'd.
A bleeding buck across his shoulders flung,
Ty'd with a rope of twisted rushes, hung.
He dropt his burden in the gate, and plac'd,
Against the pillar'd cliff, his bow unbrac'd.
'Twas then our footsteps in the cave he heard,
And thro' the gloom our shining arms appear'd.
His bow he bent; and backwards from the rock
Retir'd, and, of our purpose quest'ning, spoke:
Say who you are, who seek this wild abode,
Thro' desert paths, by mortals rarely trod?
If just, and with a fair intent you come,
Friendship expect, and safety in my dome:
But if for violence, your danger learn,
And trust my admonition when I warn:
Certain as fate, where'er this arrow flies,
The hapless wretch, who meets its fury, dies:
No buckler to resist its point avails,
The hammer'd cuirass yields, the breast-plate fails;
And where it once has drawn the purple gore,
No charm can cure, no med'cine health restore.
With threats he question'd thus; and Cleon said:
We come to call Alcides to our aid;
By us the senators of Thebes entreat
The hero, to protect his native state:
For hostile arms invest the Theban tow'rs;
Famine within, without the sword, devours.
If you have learn'd where Hercules remains,
In mountain caves, or hamlets on the plains,
Our way direct; for, led by gen'ral fame,
To find him in these desert wilds we came.
We come to call Alcides to our aid;
144
The hero, to protect his native state:
For hostile arms invest the Theban tow'rs;
Famine within, without the sword, devours.
If you have learn'd where Hercules remains,
In mountain caves, or hamlets on the plains,
Our way direct; for, led by gen'ral fame,
To find him in these desert wilds we came.
He spoke; and Philoctetes thus again:
May Jove, for Thebes, some other aid ordain;
For Hercules no more exerts his might,
Against oppressive force, for injur'd right:
Retir'd, among the gods, he sits serene,
And views, beneath him far, this mortal scene:
But enter now this grotto, and partake
What I can offer, for the hero's sake:
With you from sacred Thebes he claim'd his birth,
For god-like virtue fam'd thro' all the earth;
Thebes therefore and her people still shall be,
Like fair Trachines and her sons to me.
Enter; for now the doubtful twilight fails;
And o'er the silent earth the night prevails:
From the moist valleys noxious fogs arise,
To wrap the rocky heights, and shade the skies.
May Jove, for Thebes, some other aid ordain;
For Hercules no more exerts his might,
Against oppressive force, for injur'd right:
Retir'd, among the gods, he sits serene,
And views, beneath him far, this mortal scene:
But enter now this grotto, and partake
What I can offer, for the hero's sake:
With you from sacred Thebes he claim'd his birth,
For god-like virtue fam'd thro' all the earth;
Thebes therefore and her people still shall be,
Like fair Trachines and her sons to me.
Enter; for now the doubtful twilight fails;
And o'er the silent earth the night prevails:
From the moist valleys noxious fogs arise,
To wrap the rocky heights, and shade the skies.
The cave we enter'd, and his bounty shar'd;
A rural banquet by himself prepar'd.
But soon the rage of thirst and hunger stay'd,
My mind still doubtful, to the youth I said:
Must hapless Thebes, despairing and undone,
Want the assistance of her bravest son?
The hero's fate explain, nor grudge mine ear
The sad assurance of our loss to hear.
I question'd thus. The youth, with horror pale,
Attempted to recite an awful tale;
Above the fabled woes which bards rehearse,
When sad Melpomene inspires the verse.
A rural banquet by himself prepar'd.
But soon the rage of thirst and hunger stay'd,
My mind still doubtful, to the youth I said:
145
Want the assistance of her bravest son?
The hero's fate explain, nor grudge mine ear
The sad assurance of our loss to hear.
I question'd thus. The youth, with horror pale,
Attempted to recite an awful tale;
Above the fabled woes which bards rehearse,
When sad Melpomene inspires the verse.
The wife of Jove (Pœonides reply'd)
All arts in vain to crush the hero try'd;
For brighter from her hate his virtue burn'd;
And disappointed still, the Goddess mourn'd.
His ruin to effect at last she strove
By jealousy, the rage of injur'd love.
The bane to Deianira's breast convey'd,
Who, as a rival, fear'd th' Oechalian maid.
The Goddess knew, that jealous of her lord,
A robe she kept with latent poisons stor'd;
The centaur's gift, bequeath'd her, to reclaim
The hero's love, and light his dying flame;
If e'er, devoted to a stranger's charms,
He stray'd inconstant, from her widow'd arms;
But giv'n with treacherous intent to prove
The death of nature, not the life of love.
Mad from her jealousy, the charm she try'd;
His love to change, the deadly robe apply'd:
And, guiltless of the present which he bore,
Lychas convey'd it to Cenœum's shore:
Where to the Pow'rs immortal, for their aid,
A grateful hecatomb the hero paid:
When favor'd from above, his arm o'erthrew
The proud Eurytus, and his warriors slew.
The venom'd robe the hero took, nor fear'd
A gift by conjugal respects endear'd:
And straight resign'd the lion's shaggy spoils,
The mantle which he wore in all his toils.
No sign of harm the fatal present show'd;
Till rous'd by heat its secret venom glow'd:
Straight on the flesh it seiz'd, like stiffest glue,
And scorching deep, to ev'ry member grew.
Then tearing with his hands th' infernal snare,
His skin he rent, and laid the muscles bare;
While streams of blood, descending from the wound,
Mix'd with the gore of victims on the ground.
The guiltless Lychas, in his furious mood,
He seiz'd, as trembling by his side he stood:
Him, by the slender ancle snatch'd, he swung;
And 'gainst a rocky promontory flung:
Which, from the dire event, his name retains;
Thro' his white locks impurpled rush'd the brains.
Aw'd by the deed, his desp'rate rage to shun,
Our bold companions from his presence run:
I too, conceal'd behind a rock, remain'd;
My love and sympathy by fear restrain'd:
For furious 'midst the sacred fires he flew;
The victims scatter'd, and the hearths o'erthrew.
Then sinking prostrate, where a tide of gore
From oxen slain had blacken'd all the shore,
His form divine he roll'd in dust and blood;
His groans the hills re-echo'd and the flood.
Then rising furious, to the ocean's streams
He rush'd, in hope to quench his raging flames;
But burning still the unextinguish'd pain,
The shore he left, and stretch'd into the main.
A galley anchor'd near the beach we found;
Her curled canvass to the breeze unbound;
And trac'd his desp'rate course, till far before
We saw him land on Oeta's desert shore.
Towards the skies his furious hands he rear'd,
And thus, across the deep, his voice we heard:
All arts in vain to crush the hero try'd;
For brighter from her hate his virtue burn'd;
And disappointed still, the Goddess mourn'd.
His ruin to effect at last she strove
By jealousy, the rage of injur'd love.
The bane to Deianira's breast convey'd,
Who, as a rival, fear'd th' Oechalian maid.
The Goddess knew, that jealous of her lord,
A robe she kept with latent poisons stor'd;
The centaur's gift, bequeath'd her, to reclaim
The hero's love, and light his dying flame;
If e'er, devoted to a stranger's charms,
He stray'd inconstant, from her widow'd arms;
But giv'n with treacherous intent to prove
The death of nature, not the life of love.
Mad from her jealousy, the charm she try'd;
His love to change, the deadly robe apply'd:
And, guiltless of the present which he bore,
Lychas convey'd it to Cenœum's shore:
146
A grateful hecatomb the hero paid:
When favor'd from above, his arm o'erthrew
The proud Eurytus, and his warriors slew.
The venom'd robe the hero took, nor fear'd
A gift by conjugal respects endear'd:
And straight resign'd the lion's shaggy spoils,
The mantle which he wore in all his toils.
No sign of harm the fatal present show'd;
Till rous'd by heat its secret venom glow'd:
Straight on the flesh it seiz'd, like stiffest glue,
And scorching deep, to ev'ry member grew.
Then tearing with his hands th' infernal snare,
His skin he rent, and laid the muscles bare;
While streams of blood, descending from the wound,
Mix'd with the gore of victims on the ground.
The guiltless Lychas, in his furious mood,
He seiz'd, as trembling by his side he stood:
Him, by the slender ancle snatch'd, he swung;
And 'gainst a rocky promontory flung:
Which, from the dire event, his name retains;
Thro' his white locks impurpled rush'd the brains.
Aw'd by the deed, his desp'rate rage to shun,
Our bold companions from his presence run:
I too, conceal'd behind a rock, remain'd;
My love and sympathy by fear restrain'd:
For furious 'midst the sacred fires he flew;
The victims scatter'd, and the hearths o'erthrew.
Then sinking prostrate, where a tide of gore
From oxen slain had blacken'd all the shore,
147
His groans the hills re-echo'd and the flood.
Then rising furious, to the ocean's streams
He rush'd, in hope to quench his raging flames;
But burning still the unextinguish'd pain,
The shore he left, and stretch'd into the main.
A galley anchor'd near the beach we found;
Her curled canvass to the breeze unbound;
And trac'd his desp'rate course, till far before
We saw him land on Oeta's desert shore.
Towards the skies his furious hands he rear'd,
And thus, across the deep, his voice we heard:
Sov'reign of heav'n and earth! whose boundless sway
The fates of men and mortal things obey!
If e'er delighted from the courts above,
In human form, you sought Alcmena's love;
If fame's unchanging voice to all the earth,
With truth, proclaims you author of my birth;
Whence, from a course of spotless glory run,
Successful toils and wreaths of triumph won,
Am I thus wretched? better, that before
Some monster fierce had drunk my streaming gore;
Or crush'd by Cacus, foe to gods and men,
My batter'd brains had strew'd his rocky den:
Than, from my glorious toils and triumphs past,
To fall subdu'd by female arts, at last.
O cool my boiling blood, ye winds, that blow
From mountains loaded with eternal snow,
And crack the icy cliffs: in vain! in vain!
Your rigor cannot quench my raging pain!
For round this heart the furies wave their brands,
And wring my entrails with their burning hands.
Now bending from the skies, O wife of Jove!
Enjoy the vengeance of thy injur'd love:
For fate, by me, the Thund'rer's guilt atones;
And, punish'd in her son, Alcmena groans:
The object of your hate shall soon expire;
Fix'd on my shoulders preys a net of fire:
Whom nor the toils nor dangers could subdue,
By false Eurystheus dictated from you;
Nor tyrants lawless, nor the monstrous brood,
Which haunts the desert or infests the flood,
Nor Greece, nor all the barb'rous climes that lie
Where Phœbus ever points his golden eye;
A woman hath o'erthrown! ye gods! I yield
To female arts, unconquer'd in the field.
My arms—alas! are these the same that bow'd
Anteus, and his giant force subdu'd?
That dragg'd Nemea's monster from his den;
And slew the dragon in his native fen?
Alas, alas! their mighty muscles fail,
While pains infernal ev'ry nerve assail:
Alas, alas! I feel in streams of woe
These eyes dissolv'd, before untaught to flow.
Awake my virtue, oft in dangers try'd,
Patient in toils, in deaths unterrify'd,
Rouse to my aid; nor let my labors past,
With fame atchiev'd, be blotted by the last:
Firm and unmov'd, the present shock endure;
Once triumph, and for ever rest secure.
The fates of men and mortal things obey!
If e'er delighted from the courts above,
In human form, you sought Alcmena's love;
If fame's unchanging voice to all the earth,
With truth, proclaims you author of my birth;
Whence, from a course of spotless glory run,
Successful toils and wreaths of triumph won,
Am I thus wretched? better, that before
Some monster fierce had drunk my streaming gore;
Or crush'd by Cacus, foe to gods and men,
My batter'd brains had strew'd his rocky den:
Than, from my glorious toils and triumphs past,
To fall subdu'd by female arts, at last.
O cool my boiling blood, ye winds, that blow
From mountains loaded with eternal snow,
148
Your rigor cannot quench my raging pain!
For round this heart the furies wave their brands,
And wring my entrails with their burning hands.
Now bending from the skies, O wife of Jove!
Enjoy the vengeance of thy injur'd love:
For fate, by me, the Thund'rer's guilt atones;
And, punish'd in her son, Alcmena groans:
The object of your hate shall soon expire;
Fix'd on my shoulders preys a net of fire:
Whom nor the toils nor dangers could subdue,
By false Eurystheus dictated from you;
Nor tyrants lawless, nor the monstrous brood,
Which haunts the desert or infests the flood,
Nor Greece, nor all the barb'rous climes that lie
Where Phœbus ever points his golden eye;
A woman hath o'erthrown! ye gods! I yield
To female arts, unconquer'd in the field.
My arms—alas! are these the same that bow'd
Anteus, and his giant force subdu'd?
That dragg'd Nemea's monster from his den;
And slew the dragon in his native fen?
Alas, alas! their mighty muscles fail,
While pains infernal ev'ry nerve assail:
Alas, alas! I feel in streams of woe
These eyes dissolv'd, before untaught to flow.
Awake my virtue, oft in dangers try'd,
Patient in toils, in deaths unterrify'd,
Rouse to my aid; nor let my labors past,
With fame atchiev'd, be blotted by the last:
149
Once triumph, and for ever rest secure.
The hero thus; and grasp'd a pointed rock
With both his arms, which straight in pieces broke,
Crush'd in his agony: then on his breast
Descending prostrate, further plaint supprest.
And now the clouds, in dusky volumes spread,
Had darken'd all the mountains with their shade:
The winds withhold their breath; the billows rest;
The sky's dark image on the deep imprest.
A bay for shelter, op'ning in the strand,
We saw, and steer'd our vessel to the land.
Then mounting on the rocky beach above,
Thro' the thick gloom, descry'd the son of Jove.
His head, declin'd between his hands, he lean'd;
His elbows on his bended knees sustain'd.
Above him still a hov'ring vapor flew,
Which, from his boiling veins, the garment drew.
Thro' the thick woof we saw the fumes aspire;
Like smoke of victims from the sacred fire.
Compassion's keenest touch my bosom thrill'd;
My eyes, a flood of melting sorrow fill'd:
Doubtful I stood; and pond'ring in my mind,
By fear, and pity, variously inclin'd,
Whether to shun the hero, or essay,
With friendly words, his torment to allay:
When bursting from above with hideous glare,
A flood of lightning kindled all the air.
From Oeta's top it rush'd in sudden streams;
The ocean redden'd at its fiery beams.
Then, bellowing deep, the thunder's awful sound
Shook the firm mountains and the shores around.
Far to the east it roll'd, a length of sky;
We heard Eubœa's rattling cliffs reply,
As at his master's voice a swain appears,
When wak'd from sleep his early call he hears,
The hero rose; and to the mountain turn'd,
Whose cloud-involved top with lightning burn'd:
And thus his sire address'd: With patient mind,
Thy call I hear, obedient and resign'd;
Faithful and true the oracle! which spoke,
In high Dodona, from the sacred oak;
“That twenty years of painful labors past,
“On Oeta's top I should repose at last:”
Before, involv'd, the meaning lay conceal'd;
But now I find it in my fate reveal'd.
Thy sov'reign will I blame not, which denies,
With length of days, to crown my victories:
Tho' still with danger and distress engag'd,
For injur'd right eternal war I wag'd;
A life of pain, in barb'rous climates, led,
The heav'ns my canopy, a rock my bed:
More joy I've felt than delicacy knows,
Or all the pride of regal pomp bestows.
Dread sire! thy will I honor and revere,
And own thy love with gratitude sincere,
Which watch'd me in my toils, that none could boast
To raise a trophy from my glory lost:
And tho' at last, by female arts, o'ercome,
And unsuspected fraud, I find my doom;
There to have fail'd, my honor ne'er can shake,
Where vice is only strong and virtue weak.
With both his arms, which straight in pieces broke,
Crush'd in his agony: then on his breast
Descending prostrate, further plaint supprest.
And now the clouds, in dusky volumes spread,
Had darken'd all the mountains with their shade:
The winds withhold their breath; the billows rest;
The sky's dark image on the deep imprest.
A bay for shelter, op'ning in the strand,
We saw, and steer'd our vessel to the land.
Then mounting on the rocky beach above,
Thro' the thick gloom, descry'd the son of Jove.
His head, declin'd between his hands, he lean'd;
His elbows on his bended knees sustain'd.
Above him still a hov'ring vapor flew,
Which, from his boiling veins, the garment drew.
Thro' the thick woof we saw the fumes aspire;
Like smoke of victims from the sacred fire.
Compassion's keenest touch my bosom thrill'd;
My eyes, a flood of melting sorrow fill'd:
Doubtful I stood; and pond'ring in my mind,
By fear, and pity, variously inclin'd,
Whether to shun the hero, or essay,
With friendly words, his torment to allay:
When bursting from above with hideous glare,
A flood of lightning kindled all the air.
150
The ocean redden'd at its fiery beams.
Then, bellowing deep, the thunder's awful sound
Shook the firm mountains and the shores around.
Far to the east it roll'd, a length of sky;
We heard Eubœa's rattling cliffs reply,
As at his master's voice a swain appears,
When wak'd from sleep his early call he hears,
The hero rose; and to the mountain turn'd,
Whose cloud-involved top with lightning burn'd:
And thus his sire address'd: With patient mind,
Thy call I hear, obedient and resign'd;
Faithful and true the oracle! which spoke,
In high Dodona, from the sacred oak;
“That twenty years of painful labors past,
“On Oeta's top I should repose at last:”
Before, involv'd, the meaning lay conceal'd;
But now I find it in my fate reveal'd.
Thy sov'reign will I blame not, which denies,
With length of days, to crown my victories:
Tho' still with danger and distress engag'd,
For injur'd right eternal war I wag'd;
A life of pain, in barb'rous climates, led,
The heav'ns my canopy, a rock my bed:
More joy I've felt than delicacy knows,
Or all the pride of regal pomp bestows.
Dread sire! thy will I honor and revere,
And own thy love with gratitude sincere,
Which watch'd me in my toils, that none could boast
To raise a trophy from my glory lost:
151
And unsuspected fraud, I find my doom;
There to have fail'd, my honor ne'er can shake,
Where vice is only strong and virtue weak.
He said; and turning to the cloudy height,
The seat of thunder, wrapt in sable night,
Firm and undaunted trod the steep ascent;
An earthquake rock'd the mountain as he went.
Back from the shaking shores retir'd the flood;
In horror lost, my bold companions stood,
To speech or motion: but the present pow'r
Of love inspir'd me, in that awful hour;
With trembling steps, I trac'd the son of Jove;
And saw him darkly on the steep above,
Thro' the thick gloom. The thunder's awful noise
Ceas'd; and I call'd him thus with feeble voice:
O son of mighty Jove! thy friend await;
Who comes to comfort thee, or share thy fate.
In ev'ry danger and distress before,
His part your faithful Philoctetes bore.
O let me still attend you, and receive
The comfort which a present friend can give,
Who come obsequious for your last commands,
And tenders to your need his willing hands.
The seat of thunder, wrapt in sable night,
Firm and undaunted trod the steep ascent;
An earthquake rock'd the mountain as he went.
Back from the shaking shores retir'd the flood;
In horror lost, my bold companions stood,
To speech or motion: but the present pow'r
Of love inspir'd me, in that awful hour;
With trembling steps, I trac'd the son of Jove;
And saw him darkly on the steep above,
Thro' the thick gloom. The thunder's awful noise
Ceas'd; and I call'd him thus with feeble voice:
O son of mighty Jove! thy friend await;
Who comes to comfort thee, or share thy fate.
In ev'ry danger and distress before,
His part your faithful Philoctetes bore.
O let me still attend you, and receive
The comfort which a present friend can give,
Who come obsequious for your last commands,
And tenders to your need his willing hands.
My voice he heard; and from the mountain's brow
Saw me ascending on the steep below.
To favor my approach his steps he stay'd;
And pleas'd, amidst his anguish, smiling said:
Approach, my Philoctetes! Oft I've known
Your friendly zeal in former labors shown:
The present, more than all, your love proclaims,
Which braves the Thund'rer's bolts and volley'd flames;
With daring step, the rocking earthquake treads,
While the firm mountains shake their trembling heads.
As my last gift, these arrows, with the bow,
Accept; the greatest which I can bestow;
My glory all my wealth; of pow'r to raise
Your name to honor and immortal praise;
If for wrong'd innocence your shafts shall fly,
As Jove by signs directs them from the sky.
Saw me ascending on the steep below.
To favor my approach his steps he stay'd;
And pleas'd, amidst his anguish, smiling said:
152
Your friendly zeal in former labors shown:
The present, more than all, your love proclaims,
Which braves the Thund'rer's bolts and volley'd flames;
With daring step, the rocking earthquake treads,
While the firm mountains shake their trembling heads.
As my last gift, these arrows, with the bow,
Accept; the greatest which I can bestow;
My glory all my wealth; of pow'r to raise
Your name to honor and immortal praise;
If for wrong'd innocence your shafts shall fly,
As Jove by signs directs them from the sky.
Straight from his mighty shoulders, as he spoke,
He loos'd and lodg'd them in a cavern'd rock;
To lie untouch'd, till future care had drain'd
Their poison from the venom'd robe retain'd.
And thus again: The only aid I need,
For all my favours past, the only meed,
Is, that, with vengeful hand, you fix a dart
In cruel Deianira's faithless heart:
Her treach'rous messenger already dead,
Let her, the author of his crime, succeed.
This awful scene forsake without delay;
In vain to mingle with my fate you stay:
No kind assistance can my state retrieve,
Nor any friend attend me, and survive.
He loos'd and lodg'd them in a cavern'd rock;
To lie untouch'd, till future care had drain'd
Their poison from the venom'd robe retain'd.
And thus again: The only aid I need,
For all my favours past, the only meed,
Is, that, with vengeful hand, you fix a dart
In cruel Deianira's faithless heart:
Her treach'rous messenger already dead,
Let her, the author of his crime, succeed.
This awful scene forsake without delay;
In vain to mingle with my fate you stay:
No kind assistance can my state retrieve,
Nor any friend attend me, and survive.
153
The hero thus his tender care exprest,
And spread his arms to clasp me to his breast;
But soon withdrew them, lest his tainted veins
Infection had convey'd and mortal pains:
Silent I stood in streams of sorrow drown'd,
Till from my heart these words a passage found:
O bid me not forsake thee, nor impose
What wretched Philoctetes must refuse.
By him I swear, whose presence now proclaim
The thunder's awful voice and forked flame,
Beneath whose steps the trembling desert quakes,
And earth affrighted to her center shakes;
I never will forsake thee, but remain
While struggling life these ruin'd limbs retain:
No form of fate shall drive me from thy side,
Nor death with all its terrors e'er divide;
Tho' the same stroke our mortal lives should end,
One flash consume us, and our ashes blend.
And spread his arms to clasp me to his breast;
But soon withdrew them, lest his tainted veins
Infection had convey'd and mortal pains:
Silent I stood in streams of sorrow drown'd,
Till from my heart these words a passage found:
O bid me not forsake thee, nor impose
What wretched Philoctetes must refuse.
By him I swear, whose presence now proclaim
The thunder's awful voice and forked flame,
Beneath whose steps the trembling desert quakes,
And earth affrighted to her center shakes;
I never will forsake thee, but remain
While struggling life these ruin'd limbs retain:
No form of fate shall drive me from thy side,
Nor death with all its terrors e'er divide;
Tho' the same stroke our mortal lives should end,
One flash consume us, and our ashes blend.
I spoke; and to the cloudy steep we turn'd;
Along its brow the kindled forest burn'd.
The savage brood, descending to the plains,
The scatter'd flocks and dread distracted swains,
Rush'd from the shaking cliffs: we saw them come,
In wild disorder mingled, thro' the gloom.
And now appear'd the desert's lofty head,
A narrow rock with forest thinly spread.
His mighty hands display'd aloft in air,
To Jove the hero thus address'd a pray'r:
Hear me, dread Pow'r! whose nod controls the skies,
At whose command the winged lightning flies:
Almighty sire! if yet you deign to own
Alcmena's wretched offspring as your son;
Some comfort in my agony impart,
And bid thy forked thunder rend this heart:
Round my devoted head it idly plays;
And aids the fire, which wastes me, with its rays:
By heat inflam'd, this robe exerts its pow'r,
My scorched limbs to shrivel and devour;
Upon my shoulders, like a dragon, clings,
And fixes in my flesh a thousand stings.
Great sire! in pity to my suit attend,
And with a sudden stroke my being end.
Along its brow the kindled forest burn'd.
The savage brood, descending to the plains,
The scatter'd flocks and dread distracted swains,
Rush'd from the shaking cliffs: we saw them come,
In wild disorder mingled, thro' the gloom.
And now appear'd the desert's lofty head,
A narrow rock with forest thinly spread.
His mighty hands display'd aloft in air,
To Jove the hero thus address'd a pray'r:
154
At whose command the winged lightning flies:
Almighty sire! if yet you deign to own
Alcmena's wretched offspring as your son;
Some comfort in my agony impart,
And bid thy forked thunder rend this heart:
Round my devoted head it idly plays;
And aids the fire, which wastes me, with its rays:
By heat inflam'd, this robe exerts its pow'r,
My scorched limbs to shrivel and devour;
Upon my shoulders, like a dragon, clings,
And fixes in my flesh a thousand stings.
Great sire! in pity to my suit attend,
And with a sudden stroke my being end.
As thus the hero pray'd, the lightning ceas'd,
And thicker darkness all the hill embrac'd.
He saw his suit deny'd: in fierce despair,
The rooted pines he tore, and cedars fair;
And from the crannies of the rifted rocks,
Twisted with force immense the stubborn oaks.
Of these upon the cliff a heap he laid,
And thus address'd me, as I stood dismay'd:
Behold, my friend! the ruler of the skies,
In agony invok'd, my suit denies:
But sure the oracle inspir'd from heaven,
Which in Dodona's sacred grove was given,
The truth declar'd; “that now my toils shall cease,
“And all my painful labors end in peace:”
Peace, death can only bring: the raging smart,
Warpt with my vitals, mocks each healing art.
Not all the plants that clothe the verdant field,
Not all the health a thousand mountains yield,
Which on their tops the sage physician finds,
Or digging from the veins of flint unbinds,
This fire can quench. And therefore, to obey
My last commands, prepare without delay.
When on this pile you see my limbs compos'd,
Shrink not, but hear what must not be oppos'd;
Approach, and, with an unrelenting hand,
Fix, in the boughs beneath, a flaming brand.
I must not longer trust this madding pain,
Lest some rash deed should all my glory stain.
Lychas I slew upon the Cœnian shore,
Who knew not, sure, the fatal gift he bore:
His guilt had taught him else to fly, nor wait,
Till from my rage he found a sudden fate.
I will not Deianira's action blame;
Let heav'n decide, which only knows her aim:
Whether from hate, with treacherous intent,
This fatal garment to her lord she sent;
Or, by the cunning of a foe betray'd,
His vengeance, thus imprudently convey'd.
If this, or that, I urge not my command,
Nor claim her fate from thy avenging hand:
To lodge my lifeless bones, is all I crave,
Safe and uninjur'd in the peaceful grave.
And thicker darkness all the hill embrac'd.
He saw his suit deny'd: in fierce despair,
The rooted pines he tore, and cedars fair;
And from the crannies of the rifted rocks,
Twisted with force immense the stubborn oaks.
Of these upon the cliff a heap he laid,
And thus address'd me, as I stood dismay'd:
Behold, my friend! the ruler of the skies,
In agony invok'd, my suit denies:
But sure the oracle inspir'd from heaven,
Which in Dodona's sacred grove was given,
The truth declar'd; “that now my toils shall cease,
“And all my painful labors end in peace:”
155
Warpt with my vitals, mocks each healing art.
Not all the plants that clothe the verdant field,
Not all the health a thousand mountains yield,
Which on their tops the sage physician finds,
Or digging from the veins of flint unbinds,
This fire can quench. And therefore, to obey
My last commands, prepare without delay.
When on this pile you see my limbs compos'd,
Shrink not, but hear what must not be oppos'd;
Approach, and, with an unrelenting hand,
Fix, in the boughs beneath, a flaming brand.
I must not longer trust this madding pain,
Lest some rash deed should all my glory stain.
Lychas I slew upon the Cœnian shore,
Who knew not, sure, the fatal gift he bore:
His guilt had taught him else to fly, nor wait,
Till from my rage he found a sudden fate.
I will not Deianira's action blame;
Let heav'n decide, which only knows her aim:
Whether from hate, with treacherous intent,
This fatal garment to her lord she sent;
Or, by the cunning of a foe betray'd,
His vengeance, thus imprudently convey'd.
If this, or that, I urge not my command,
Nor claim her fate from thy avenging hand:
To lodge my lifeless bones, is all I crave,
Safe and uninjur'd in the peaceful grave.
156
This with a hollow voice and alter'd look,
In agony extreme, the hero spoke.
I pour'd a flood of sorrow, and withdrew,
Amid the kindled groves, to pluck a bough;
With which the structure at the base I fir'd:
On ev'ry side the pointed flames aspir'd.
But ere involving smoke the pile inclos'd,
I saw the hero on the top repos'd;
Serene as one who, near the fountain laid,
At noon enjoys the cool refreshing shade.
The venom'd garment hiss'd; its touch the fires
Avoiding, slop'd oblique their pointed spires:
On ev'ry side the parted flame withdrew,
And level'd, round the burning structure, flew.
At last victorious to the top they rose;
Firm and unmov'd the hero saw them close.
His soul, unfetter'd, sought the blest abodes,
By virtue rais'd to mingle with the gods.
His bones in earth, with pious hands, I laid;
The place to publish nothing shall persuade;
Lest tyrants, now unaw'd, and men unjust,
With insults, should profane his sacred dust.
E'er since, I haunt this solitary den,
Retir'd from all the busy paths of men;
For these wild mountains only suit my state,
And sooth, with kindred gloom, my deep regret.
In agony extreme, the hero spoke.
I pour'd a flood of sorrow, and withdrew,
Amid the kindled groves, to pluck a bough;
With which the structure at the base I fir'd:
On ev'ry side the pointed flames aspir'd.
But ere involving smoke the pile inclos'd,
I saw the hero on the top repos'd;
Serene as one who, near the fountain laid,
At noon enjoys the cool refreshing shade.
The venom'd garment hiss'd; its touch the fires
Avoiding, slop'd oblique their pointed spires:
On ev'ry side the parted flame withdrew,
And level'd, round the burning structure, flew.
At last victorious to the top they rose;
Firm and unmov'd the hero saw them close.
His soul, unfetter'd, sought the blest abodes,
By virtue rais'd to mingle with the gods.
His bones in earth, with pious hands, I laid;
The place to publish nothing shall persuade;
Lest tyrants, now unaw'd, and men unjust,
With insults, should profane his sacred dust.
E'er since, I haunt this solitary den,
Retir'd from all the busy paths of men;
For these wild mountains only suit my state,
And sooth, with kindred gloom, my deep regret.
He ended thus: amazement long suppress'd
My voice; but Cleon answ'ring thus address'd:
Brave youth! you offer, to our wond'ring ears,
Events more awful than tradition bears.
Fix'd in my mind the hero's fate remains,
I see his agonies, and feel his pains.
Yet suffer, that for hapless Thebes I mourn,
Whose fairest hopes the envious fates o'erturn.
If great Alcides liv'd, her tow'rs should stand
Safe and protected by his mighty hand:
On you, brave youth! our second hopes depend;
To you the arms of Hercules descend.
He did not, sure, those glorious gifts bestow,
The shafts invincible, the mighty bow;
From which the innocent protection claim,
To dye the hills with blood of savage game.
Such toils as these your glory ne'er can raise,
Nor crown your merit with immortal praise;
And with the great Alcides place your name,
To stand distinguish'd in the rolls of fame.
My voice; but Cleon answ'ring thus address'd:
157
Events more awful than tradition bears.
Fix'd in my mind the hero's fate remains,
I see his agonies, and feel his pains.
Yet suffer, that for hapless Thebes I mourn,
Whose fairest hopes the envious fates o'erturn.
If great Alcides liv'd, her tow'rs should stand
Safe and protected by his mighty hand:
On you, brave youth! our second hopes depend;
To you the arms of Hercules descend.
He did not, sure, those glorious gifts bestow,
The shafts invincible, the mighty bow;
From which the innocent protection claim,
To dye the hills with blood of savage game.
Such toils as these your glory ne'er can raise,
Nor crown your merit with immortal praise;
And with the great Alcides place your name,
To stand distinguish'd in the rolls of fame.
The hero thus. The son of Pœan said:
Myself, my arms, I offer for your aid;
If fav'ring from the skies, the signs of Jove
Confirm what thus I purpose and approve.
For when Alcides, with his last commands,
His bow and shafts committed to my hands;
In all attempts he charg'd me to proceed
As Jove by signs and auguries should lead.
But these the rising sun will best disclose;
The season now invites to soft repose.
Myself, my arms, I offer for your aid;
If fav'ring from the skies, the signs of Jove
Confirm what thus I purpose and approve.
For when Alcides, with his last commands,
His bow and shafts committed to my hands;
In all attempts he charg'd me to proceed
As Jove by signs and auguries should lead.
But these the rising sun will best disclose;
The season now invites to soft repose.
158
He said; and, from the hearth a flaming bough,
To light us thro' the shady cavern, drew.
Far in the deep recess, a rocky bed
We found, with skins of mountain monsters spread.
There we compos'd our weary limbs, and lay,
Till darkness fled before the morning ray.
Then rose, and climb'd a promontory steep,
Whose rocky brow, impending o'er the deep,
Shoots high into the air, and lifts the eye,
In boundless stretch, to take a length of sky.
With hands extended to th' ethereal height,
The pow'r we call'd, who rules the realms of light;
That symbols sure his purpose might explain,
Whether the youth should aid us, or refrain:
We pray'd; and on the left along the vales,
With pinions broad display'd, an eagle sails.
As near the ground his level flight he drew,
He stoop'd, and brush'd the thickets as he flew;
When, starting from the center of a brake,
With horrid hiss appear'd a crested snake:
Her young to guard, her venom'd fangs she rear'd;
Above the shrubs her wavy length appear'd;
Against his swift approaches, as he flew,
On ev'ry side her forked tongue she threw,
And armed jaws; but wheeling from the snare
The swift assailant still escap'd in air;
But, stooping from his pitch, at last he tore
Her purple crest, and drew a stream of gore.
She wreath'd; and, in the fierceness of her pain,
Shook the long thickets with her twisted train:
Relax'd at last, its spires forgot to roll,
And, in a hiss, she breath'd her fiery soul:
In haste to gorge his prey, the bird of Jove
Down to the bottom of the thicket drove;
The young defenceless from the covert drew;
Devour'd them straight, and to the mountains flew.
This omen seen, another worse we hear;
The subterraneous thunder greets our ear:
The worst of all the signs which augurs know;
A dire prognostic of impending woe.
To light us thro' the shady cavern, drew.
Far in the deep recess, a rocky bed
We found, with skins of mountain monsters spread.
There we compos'd our weary limbs, and lay,
Till darkness fled before the morning ray.
Then rose, and climb'd a promontory steep,
Whose rocky brow, impending o'er the deep,
Shoots high into the air, and lifts the eye,
In boundless stretch, to take a length of sky.
With hands extended to th' ethereal height,
The pow'r we call'd, who rules the realms of light;
That symbols sure his purpose might explain,
Whether the youth should aid us, or refrain:
We pray'd; and on the left along the vales,
With pinions broad display'd, an eagle sails.
As near the ground his level flight he drew,
He stoop'd, and brush'd the thickets as he flew;
When, starting from the center of a brake,
With horrid hiss appear'd a crested snake:
Her young to guard, her venom'd fangs she rear'd;
Above the shrubs her wavy length appear'd;
Against his swift approaches, as he flew,
On ev'ry side her forked tongue she threw,
And armed jaws; but wheeling from the snare
The swift assailant still escap'd in air;
But, stooping from his pitch, at last he tore
Her purple crest, and drew a stream of gore.
She wreath'd; and, in the fierceness of her pain,
Shook the long thickets with her twisted train:
159
And, in a hiss, she breath'd her fiery soul:
In haste to gorge his prey, the bird of Jove
Down to the bottom of the thicket drove;
The young defenceless from the covert drew;
Devour'd them straight, and to the mountains flew.
This omen seen, another worse we hear;
The subterraneous thunder greets our ear:
The worst of all the signs which augurs know;
A dire prognostic of impending woe.
Amaz'd we stood, till Philoctetes broke
Our long dejected silence thus, and spoke:
Warriors of Thebes! the auguries dissuade
My purpose, and withhold me from your aid;
Tho' pity moves me, and ambition draws,
To share your labors and assert your cause;
In fight the arms of Hercules to show,
And from his native ramparts drive the foe.
But vain it is against the gods to strive;
Whose counsels ruin nations or retrieve;
Without their favor, valor nought avails,
And human prudence self-subverted fails;
For irresistibly their pow'r presides
In all events, and good and ill divides.
Let Thebes assembled at the altars wait,
And long processions crowd each sacred gate:
With sacrifice appeas'd, and humble pray'r,
Their omens frustrated, the gods may spare.
To-day, my guests, repose; to-morrow sail,
If heav'n propitious sends a prosp'rous gale:
For, shifting to the south, the western breeze
Forbids you now to trust the faithless seas.
Our long dejected silence thus, and spoke:
Warriors of Thebes! the auguries dissuade
My purpose, and withhold me from your aid;
Tho' pity moves me, and ambition draws,
To share your labors and assert your cause;
In fight the arms of Hercules to show,
And from his native ramparts drive the foe.
But vain it is against the gods to strive;
Whose counsels ruin nations or retrieve;
Without their favor, valor nought avails,
And human prudence self-subverted fails;
For irresistibly their pow'r presides
In all events, and good and ill divides.
Let Thebes assembled at the altars wait,
And long processions crowd each sacred gate:
With sacrifice appeas'd, and humble pray'r,
Their omens frustrated, the gods may spare.
160
If heav'n propitious sends a prosp'rous gale:
For, shifting to the south, the western breeze
Forbids you now to trust the faithless seas.
The hero thus; in silence sad, we mourn'd;
And to the solitary cave return'd,
Despairing of success; our grief he shar'd,
And for relief a chearing bowl prepar'd;
The vintage which the grape spontaneous yields,
By art untutor'd, on the woodland fields,
He sought with care, and mingled in the bowl,
A plant, of pow'r to calm the troubled soul;
Its name Nepenthe; swains, on desert ground,
Do often glean it, else but rarely sound;
This in the bowl he mix'd; and soon we found,
In soft oblivion, all our sorrows drown'd:
We felt no more the agonies of care,
And hope, succeeding, dawn'd upon despair.
From morn we feasted, till the setting ray
Retir'd, and ev'ning shades expell'd the day;
Then in the dark recesses of the cave,
To slumbers soft, our willing limbs we gave:
But ere the morning, from the east, appear'd,
And sooner than the early lark is heard,
Cleon awak'd, my careless slumber broke,
And bending to my ear, in whispers spoke:
Dienices! while slumbering thus secure,
We think not what our citizens endure.
The worst the signs have threaten'd, nought appears
With happier aspect to dispel our fears;
Alcides lives not, and his friend in vain
To arms we call, while auguries restrain:
Returning thus, we bring the Theban state
But hopes deceiv'd, and omens of her fate:
Better success our labors shall attend,
Nor all our aims in disappointment end;
If you approve my purpose, nor dissuade
What now I counsel for your country's aid.
Soon as the sun displays his early beam,
The arms of great Alcides let us claim;
Then for Bœotia's shores direct our sails;
And force must second if persuasion fails:
Against reproach necessity shall plead;
Censure consute, and justify the deed.
And to the solitary cave return'd,
Despairing of success; our grief he shar'd,
And for relief a chearing bowl prepar'd;
The vintage which the grape spontaneous yields,
By art untutor'd, on the woodland fields,
He sought with care, and mingled in the bowl,
A plant, of pow'r to calm the troubled soul;
Its name Nepenthe; swains, on desert ground,
Do often glean it, else but rarely sound;
This in the bowl he mix'd; and soon we found,
In soft oblivion, all our sorrows drown'd:
We felt no more the agonies of care,
And hope, succeeding, dawn'd upon despair.
From morn we feasted, till the setting ray
Retir'd, and ev'ning shades expell'd the day;
Then in the dark recesses of the cave,
To slumbers soft, our willing limbs we gave:
But ere the morning, from the east, appear'd,
And sooner than the early lark is heard,
Cleon awak'd, my careless slumber broke,
And bending to my ear, in whispers spoke:
Dienices! while slumbering thus secure,
We think not what our citizens endure.
161
With happier aspect to dispel our fears;
Alcides lives not, and his friend in vain
To arms we call, while auguries restrain:
Returning thus, we bring the Theban state
But hopes deceiv'd, and omens of her fate:
Better success our labors shall attend,
Nor all our aims in disappointment end;
If you approve my purpose, nor dissuade
What now I counsel for your country's aid.
Soon as the sun displays his early beam,
The arms of great Alcides let us claim;
Then for Bœotia's shores direct our sails;
And force must second if persuasion fails:
Against reproach necessity shall plead;
Censure consute, and justify the deed.
The hero thus, and ceas'd: with pity mov'd,
And zeal for Thebes, I rashly thus approv'd.
You counsel well; but prudence would advise
To work by cunning rather, and surprize,
Than force declar'd; his venom'd shafts you know,
Which fly resistless from th' Herculean bow;
A safe occasion now the silent hour
Of midnight yields; when, by the gentle pow'r
Of careless slumber bound, the hero lies,
Our necessary fraud will 'scape his eyes;
Without the aid of force shall reach its aim,
With danger less incurr'd, and less of blame.
And zeal for Thebes, I rashly thus approv'd.
You counsel well; but prudence would advise
To work by cunning rather, and surprize,
Than force declar'd; his venom'd shafts you know,
Which fly resistless from th' Herculean bow;
A safe occasion now the silent hour
Of midnight yields; when, by the gentle pow'r
Of careless slumber bound, the hero lies,
Our necessary fraud will 'scape his eyes;
Without the aid of force shall reach its aim,
With danger less incurr'd, and less of blame.
162
I counsel'd thus; and Cleon straight approv'd.
In silence from the dark recess we mov'd;
Towards the hearth, with wary steps, we came,
The ashes stir'd, and rous'd the slumb'ring flame.
On ev'ry side in vain we turn'd our eyes,
Nor, as our hopes had promis'd, found the prize:
Till to the couch, where Philoctetes lay,
The quiver led us by its silver ray;
For in a panther's furr together ty'd,
His bow and shafts, the pillow's place supply'd:
Thither I went with careful steps and slow;
And by degrees obtain'd th' Herculean bow:
The quiver next to disengage essay'd;
It stuck intangled, but at last obey'd.
The prize obtain'd, we hasten to the strand,
And rouse the mariners, and straight command
The canvass to unfurl: a gentle gale
Favor'd our course, and fill'd the swelling sail:
The shores retir'd; and when the morning ray
Ascended, from the deep, th' ethereal way;
Upon the right Cenæum's beach appear'd,
And Pelion on the left his summit rear'd.
All day we sail'd; but when the setting light
Approach'd the ocean, from th'Olympian height,
The breeze was hush'd; and, stretch'd across the main,
Like mountains rising on the wat'ry plain,
The clouds collected on the billows stood,
And, with incumbent shade, obscur'd the flood.
Thither a current bore us; soon we found
A night of vapor closing fast around.
Loose hung the empty sail: we ply'd our oars,
And strove to reach Eubœa's friendly shores;
But strove in vain: for erring from the course,
In mazes wide, the rower spent his force.
Seven days and nights we try'd some port to gain,
Where Greek or barb'rous shores exclude the main;
But knew not, whether backwards, or before,
Or on the right, or left, to seek the shore:
Till, rising on the eighth, a gentle breeze
Drove the light fog, and brush'd the curling seas.
Our canvass to its gentle pow'r we spread;
And fix'd our oars, and follow'd as it led.
Before us soon, impending from above,
Thro' parting clouds, we saw a lofty grove.
Alarm'd, the sail we slacken, and explore
The deeps and shallows of the unknown shore.
Near on the right a winding creek appear'd,
Thither, directed by the pole, we steer'd;
And landed on the beach, by fate misled,
Nor knew again the port from which we fled.
The gods themselves deceiv'd us: to our eyes
New caverns open, airy cliffs arise;
That Philoctetes might again possess
His arms, and heav'n our injury redress.
In silence from the dark recess we mov'd;
Towards the hearth, with wary steps, we came,
The ashes stir'd, and rous'd the slumb'ring flame.
On ev'ry side in vain we turn'd our eyes,
Nor, as our hopes had promis'd, found the prize:
Till to the couch, where Philoctetes lay,
The quiver led us by its silver ray;
For in a panther's furr together ty'd,
His bow and shafts, the pillow's place supply'd:
Thither I went with careful steps and slow;
And by degrees obtain'd th' Herculean bow:
The quiver next to disengage essay'd;
It stuck intangled, but at last obey'd.
The prize obtain'd, we hasten to the strand,
And rouse the mariners, and straight command
The canvass to unfurl: a gentle gale
Favor'd our course, and fill'd the swelling sail:
The shores retir'd; and when the morning ray
Ascended, from the deep, th' ethereal way;
Upon the right Cenæum's beach appear'd,
And Pelion on the left his summit rear'd.
All day we sail'd; but when the setting light
Approach'd the ocean, from th'Olympian height,
The breeze was hush'd; and, stretch'd across the main,
Like mountains rising on the wat'ry plain,
The clouds collected on the billows stood,
And, with incumbent shade, obscur'd the flood.
Thither a current bore us; soon we found
A night of vapor closing fast around.
163
And strove to reach Eubœa's friendly shores;
But strove in vain: for erring from the course,
In mazes wide, the rower spent his force.
Seven days and nights we try'd some port to gain,
Where Greek or barb'rous shores exclude the main;
But knew not, whether backwards, or before,
Or on the right, or left, to seek the shore:
Till, rising on the eighth, a gentle breeze
Drove the light fog, and brush'd the curling seas.
Our canvass to its gentle pow'r we spread;
And fix'd our oars, and follow'd as it led.
Before us soon, impending from above,
Thro' parting clouds, we saw a lofty grove.
Alarm'd, the sail we slacken, and explore
The deeps and shallows of the unknown shore.
Near on the right a winding creek appear'd,
Thither, directed by the pole, we steer'd;
And landed on the beach, by fate misled,
Nor knew again the port from which we fled.
The gods themselves deceiv'd us: to our eyes
New caverns open, airy cliffs arise;
That Philoctetes might again possess
His arms, and heav'n our injury redress.
The unknown region purpos'd to explore,
Cleon, with me alone, forsakes the shore;
Back to the cave we left, by angry fate
Implicitly conducted, at the gate
The injur'd youth we found; a thick disguise
His native form conceal'd, and mock'd our eyes;
For the black locks in waving ringlets spread,
A wreath of hoary white involv'd his head,
Beneath a load of years, he seem'd to bend,
His breast to sink, his shoulders to ascend.
He saw us straight, and, rising from his seat,
Began with sharp reproaches to repeat
Our crime; but could not thus suspicion give;
So strong is error when the gods deceive!
We question'd of the country as we came,
By whom inhabited, and what its name;
How far from Thebes: that thither we were bound;
And thus the wary youth our error found.
Smooth'd to deceive, his accent straight he turn'd,
While in his breast the thirst of vengeance burn'd;
And thinking now his bow and shafts regain'd,
Reply'd with hospitable kindness feign'd:
On Ida's sacred height, my guests! you stand;
Here Priam rules, in peace, a happy land.
Twelve cities own him, on the Phrygian plain,
Their lord, and twelve fair islands on the main.
From hence to Thebes in seven days space you'll sail,
If Jove propitious sends a prosp'rous gale.
But now accept a homely meal, and deign
To share, what heav'n affords a humble swain.
Cleon, with me alone, forsakes the shore;
Back to the cave we left, by angry fate
Implicitly conducted, at the gate
The injur'd youth we found; a thick disguise
His native form conceal'd, and mock'd our eyes;
164
A wreath of hoary white involv'd his head,
Beneath a load of years, he seem'd to bend,
His breast to sink, his shoulders to ascend.
He saw us straight, and, rising from his seat,
Began with sharp reproaches to repeat
Our crime; but could not thus suspicion give;
So strong is error when the gods deceive!
We question'd of the country as we came,
By whom inhabited, and what its name;
How far from Thebes: that thither we were bound;
And thus the wary youth our error found.
Smooth'd to deceive, his accent straight he turn'd,
While in his breast the thirst of vengeance burn'd;
And thinking now his bow and shafts regain'd,
Reply'd with hospitable kindness feign'd:
On Ida's sacred height, my guests! you stand;
Here Priam rules, in peace, a happy land.
Twelve cities own him, on the Phrygian plain,
Their lord, and twelve fair islands on the main.
From hence to Thebes in seven days space you'll sail,
If Jove propitious sends a prosp'rous gale.
But now accept a homely meal, and deign
To share, what heav'n affords a humble swain.
He said; and brought a bowl with vintage fill'd,
From berries wild, and mountain grapes distill'd,
Of largest size; and plac'd it on a rock,
Under the covert of a spreading oak;
Around it autumn's mellow stores he laid,
Which the sun ripens, in the woodland shade.
Our thirst and hunger thus at once allay'd,
To Cleon turning, Philoctetes said:
The bow you wear of such unusual size,
With wonder still I view and curious eyes;
For length, for thickness, and the workman's art,
Surpassing all I've seen in ev'ry part.
From berries wild, and mountain grapes distill'd,
Of largest size; and plac'd it on a rock,
Under the covert of a spreading oak;
165
Which the sun ripens, in the woodland shade.
Our thirst and hunger thus at once allay'd,
To Cleon turning, Philoctetes said:
The bow you wear of such unusual size,
With wonder still I view and curious eyes;
For length, for thickness, and the workman's art,
Surpassing all I've seen in ev'ry part.
Dissembling, thus inquir'd the wary youth,
And thus your valiant son declar'd the truth:
Father! the weapon, which you thus commend,
The force of great Alcides once did bend;
These shafts the same which monsters fierce subdu'd,
And lawless men with vengeance just pursu'd.
And thus your valiant son declar'd the truth:
Father! the weapon, which you thus commend,
The force of great Alcides once did bend;
These shafts the same which monsters fierce subdu'd,
And lawless men with vengeance just pursu'd.
The hero thus; and Pœan's son again:
What now I ask, refuse not to explain:
Whether the hero still exerts his might,
For innocence oppress'd, and injur'd right?
Or yields to fate; and with the mighty dead,
From toil reposes in the Elysian shade!
Sure, if he liv'd, he would not thus forgoe
His shafts invincible and mighty bow,
By which, he oft immortal honor gain'd
For wrongs redress'd and lawless force restrain'd.
What now I ask, refuse not to explain:
Whether the hero still exerts his might,
For innocence oppress'd, and injur'd right?
Or yields to fate; and with the mighty dead,
From toil reposes in the Elysian shade!
Sure, if he liv'd, he would not thus forgoe
His shafts invincible and mighty bow,
By which, he oft immortal honor gain'd
For wrongs redress'd and lawless force restrain'd.
The rage suppress'd, which in his bosom burn'd,
He question'd thus; and Cleon thus return'd:
What we have heard of Hercules, I'll show;
What by report we learn'd, and what we know.
From Thebes to Oeta's wilderness we went,
With supplications, to the hero, sent
From all our princes; that he would exert
His matchless valor on his country's part,
Against whose state united foes conspire,
And waste her wide domain with sword and fire.
There on the cliffs, which bound the neighb'ring main,
We found the mansion of a lonely swain;
Much like to this, but that its rocky mouth
The cooling north respects, as this the south;
And, in a corner of the cave conceal'd,
The club which great Alcides us'd to wield.
Wrapt in his shaggy robe, the lion's spoils,
The mantle which he wore in all his toils.
At ev'n a hunter in the cave appear'd;
From whom the fate of Hercules we heard.
He told us that he saw the chief expire,
That he himself did light his fun'ral fire;
And boasted, that the hero had resign'd,
To him, this bow and quiver, as his friend:
Oft seen before, these deadly shafts we know,
And tip'd with stars of gold th' Herculean bow:
But of the hero's fate, the tale he told,
Whether 'tis true, I cannot now unfold.
He question'd thus; and Cleon thus return'd:
What we have heard of Hercules, I'll show;
What by report we learn'd, and what we know.
166
With supplications, to the hero, sent
From all our princes; that he would exert
His matchless valor on his country's part,
Against whose state united foes conspire,
And waste her wide domain with sword and fire.
There on the cliffs, which bound the neighb'ring main,
We found the mansion of a lonely swain;
Much like to this, but that its rocky mouth
The cooling north respects, as this the south;
And, in a corner of the cave conceal'd,
The club which great Alcides us'd to wield.
Wrapt in his shaggy robe, the lion's spoils,
The mantle which he wore in all his toils.
At ev'n a hunter in the cave appear'd;
From whom the fate of Hercules we heard.
He told us that he saw the chief expire,
That he himself did light his fun'ral fire;
And boasted, that the hero had resign'd,
To him, this bow and quiver, as his friend:
Oft seen before, these deadly shafts we know,
And tip'd with stars of gold th' Herculean bow:
But of the hero's fate, the tale he told,
Whether 'tis true, I cannot now unfold.
He spoke. The youth with indignation burn'd,
Yet calm in outward semblance, thus return'd:
I must admire the man who could resign
To you, these arms so precious and divine,
Which, to the love of such a friend, he ow'd,
Great was the gift if willingly bestow'd:
By force they could not easily be gain'd,
And fraud, I know, your gen'rous souls disdain'd.
Yet calm in outward semblance, thus return'd:
I must admire the man who could resign
To you, these arms so precious and divine,
Which, to the love of such a friend, he ow'd,
Great was the gift if willingly bestow'd:
167
And fraud, I know, your gen'rous souls disdain'd.
Severely smiling, thus the hero spoke;
With conscious shame we heard, nor silence broke:
And thus again: The only boon I claim,
Which, to your host deny'd, would merit blame;
Is, that my hands that weapon may embrace,
And on the flaxen cord an arrow place;
An honor which I covet; tho' we mourn'd,
By great Alcides, once our state o'erturn'd:
When proud Laomedon the hero brav'd,
Nor paid the ransom for his daughter sav'd.
With conscious shame we heard, nor silence broke:
And thus again: The only boon I claim,
Which, to your host deny'd, would merit blame;
Is, that my hands that weapon may embrace,
And on the flaxen cord an arrow place;
An honor which I covet; tho' we mourn'd,
By great Alcides, once our state o'erturn'd:
When proud Laomedon the hero brav'd,
Nor paid the ransom for his daughter sav'd.
Dissembling thus, did Philoctetes strive
His instruments of vengeance to retrieve:
And, by the fates deceiv'd, in evil hour,
The bow and shafts we yielded to his pow'r,
In mirthful mood, provoking him to try
Whether the weapon would his force obey;
For weak he seem'd, like those whose nerves have lost,
Thro' age, the vigor which in youth they boast.
The belt around his shoulders first he flung,
And glitt'ring by his side the quiver hung:
Compress'd with all his force the stubborn yew
He bent, and from the case an arrow drew:
And yielding to his rage, in furious mood,
With aim direct against us full he stood,
For vengeance arm'd; and now the thick disguise,
Which veil'd his form before, and mock'd our eyes,
Vanish'd in air; our error then appear'd;
I saw the vengeance of the gods, and fear'd.
Before him to the ground my knees I bow'd,
And, with extended hands, for mercy su'd.
But Cleon, fierce and scorning to intreat,
His weapon drew, and rush'd upon his fate:
For as he came, the fatal arrow flew,
And from his heart the vital current drew;
Supine he fell; and, welling from the wound,
A tide of gore impurpled all the ground.
The son of Pœan stooping drew the dart,
Yet warm with slaughter, from the hero's heart;
And turn'd it full on me: with humble pray'r
And lifted hands, I mov'd him still to spare.
At last he yielded, from his purpose sway'd,
And answ'ring thus in milder accents, said:
No favor, sure, you merit; and the cause,
Of right infring'd and hospitable laws,
Would justify revenge; but as you claim,
With Hercules, your native soil the same;
I now shall pardon for the hero's sake,
Nor, tho' the gods approve it, vengeance take.
But straight avoid my presence, and unbind,
With speed, your flying canvass to the wind:
For if again to meet these eyes you come,
No pray'rs shall change, or mitigate your doom.
His instruments of vengeance to retrieve:
And, by the fates deceiv'd, in evil hour,
The bow and shafts we yielded to his pow'r,
In mirthful mood, provoking him to try
Whether the weapon would his force obey;
For weak he seem'd, like those whose nerves have lost,
Thro' age, the vigor which in youth they boast.
The belt around his shoulders first he flung,
And glitt'ring by his side the quiver hung:
Compress'd with all his force the stubborn yew
He bent, and from the case an arrow drew:
And yielding to his rage, in furious mood,
With aim direct against us full he stood,
For vengeance arm'd; and now the thick disguise,
Which veil'd his form before, and mock'd our eyes,
168
I saw the vengeance of the gods, and fear'd.
Before him to the ground my knees I bow'd,
And, with extended hands, for mercy su'd.
But Cleon, fierce and scorning to intreat,
His weapon drew, and rush'd upon his fate:
For as he came, the fatal arrow flew,
And from his heart the vital current drew;
Supine he fell; and, welling from the wound,
A tide of gore impurpled all the ground.
The son of Pœan stooping drew the dart,
Yet warm with slaughter, from the hero's heart;
And turn'd it full on me: with humble pray'r
And lifted hands, I mov'd him still to spare.
At last he yielded, from his purpose sway'd,
And answ'ring thus in milder accents, said:
No favor, sure, you merit; and the cause,
Of right infring'd and hospitable laws,
Would justify revenge; but as you claim,
With Hercules, your native soil the same;
I now shall pardon for the hero's sake,
Nor, tho' the gods approve it, vengeance take.
But straight avoid my presence, and unbind,
With speed, your flying canvass to the wind:
For if again to meet these eyes you come,
No pray'rs shall change, or mitigate your doom.
With frowning aspect thus the hero said.
His threats I fear'd, and willingly obey'd.
Straight in his purple robe the dead I bound,
Then to my shoulders rais'd him from the ground;
And from the hills descending to the bay,
Where anchor'd near the beach our galley lay,
The rest conven'd, with sorrow to relate
This anger of the gods and Cleon's fate:
The hero's fate his bold companions mourn'd,
And ev'ry breast with keen resentment burn'd.
They in their heady transports straight decreed,
His fall with vengeance to requite or bleed.
I fear'd the angry gods; and gave command,
With sail and oar, to fly the fatal strand;
Inrag'd and sad, the mariners obey'd,
Unfurl'd the canvass, and the anchor weigh'd.
Our course, behind, the western breezes sped,
And from the coast with heavy hearts we fled.
All day they favour'd, but with ev'ning ceas'd;
And straight a tempest, from the stormy east,
In opposition full, began to blow,
And rear in ridges high the deep below.
Against its boist'rous sway in vain we strove;
Obliquely to the Thracian coast we drove:
Where Pelion lifts his head aloft in air,
With pointed cliffs and precipices bare;
Thither our course we steer'd, and on the strand
Descending, fix'd our cable to the land.
There twenty days we stay'd, and wish'd, in vain,
A favorable breeze, to cross the main;
For with unceasing rage the tempest rav'd,
And o'er the rocky beach the ocean heav'd.
At last with care the hero's limbs we burn'd,
And, water'd with our tears, his bones inurn'd.
There, where a promontory's height divides,
Extended in the deep, the parted tides,
His tomb is seen, which, from its airy stand,
Marks to the mariner the distant land.
His threats I fear'd, and willingly obey'd.
169
Then to my shoulders rais'd him from the ground;
And from the hills descending to the bay,
Where anchor'd near the beach our galley lay,
The rest conven'd, with sorrow to relate
This anger of the gods and Cleon's fate:
The hero's fate his bold companions mourn'd,
And ev'ry breast with keen resentment burn'd.
They in their heady transports straight decreed,
His fall with vengeance to requite or bleed.
I fear'd the angry gods; and gave command,
With sail and oar, to fly the fatal strand;
Inrag'd and sad, the mariners obey'd,
Unfurl'd the canvass, and the anchor weigh'd.
Our course, behind, the western breezes sped,
And from the coast with heavy hearts we fled.
All day they favour'd, but with ev'ning ceas'd;
And straight a tempest, from the stormy east,
In opposition full, began to blow,
And rear in ridges high the deep below.
Against its boist'rous sway in vain we strove;
Obliquely to the Thracian coast we drove:
Where Pelion lifts his head aloft in air,
With pointed cliffs and precipices bare;
Thither our course we steer'd, and on the strand
Descending, fix'd our cable to the land.
There twenty days we stay'd, and wish'd, in vain,
A favorable breeze, to cross the main;
For with unceasing rage the tempest rav'd,
And o'er the rocky beach the ocean heav'd.
170
And, water'd with our tears, his bones inurn'd.
There, where a promontory's height divides,
Extended in the deep, the parted tides,
His tomb is seen, which, from its airy stand,
Marks to the mariner the distant land.
This, princes! is the truth; and tho' the will
Of heav'n, the sov'reign cause of good and ill,
Has dash'd our hopes, and, for the good in view,
With griefs afflicts us and disasters new:
Yet, innocent of all, I justly claim
To stand exempt from punishment, or blame.
That zeal for Thebes 'gainst hospitable laws
Prevail'd, and ardor in my country's cause,
I freely have confess'd; but sure, if wrong
Was e'er-permitted to inducement strong,
This claims to be excus'd: our country's need,
With all who hear it, will for favor plead.
Of heav'n, the sov'reign cause of good and ill,
Has dash'd our hopes, and, for the good in view,
With griefs afflicts us and disasters new:
Yet, innocent of all, I justly claim
To stand exempt from punishment, or blame.
That zeal for Thebes 'gainst hospitable laws
Prevail'd, and ardor in my country's cause,
I freely have confess'd; but sure, if wrong
Was e'er-permitted to inducement strong,
This claims to be excus'd: our country's need,
With all who hear it, will for favor plead.
He ended thus. Unable to subdue
His grief, the monarch from the throne withdrew:
In silent wonder fix'd, the rest remain'd;
Till Clytophon the gen'ral sense explain'd:
Your just defence, we mean not to refuse;
Your prudence censure, or your zeal accuse:
To heav'n we owe the valiant Cleon's fate,
With each disaster which afflicts the state.
Soon as the sun forsakes the eastern main,
At ev'ry altar let a bull be slain;
And Thebes assembled move the pow'rs to spare,
With vows of sacrifice and humble pray'r:
But now the night invites to soft repose,
The momentary cure of human woes;
The stars descend; and soon the morning ray
Shall rouse us to the labors of the day.
The hero thus. In silence all approv'd,
And rising, various, from th' assembly mov'd.
His grief, the monarch from the throne withdrew:
In silent wonder fix'd, the rest remain'd;
Till Clytophon the gen'ral sense explain'd:
Your just defence, we mean not to refuse;
Your prudence censure, or your zeal accuse:
To heav'n we owe the valiant Cleon's fate,
With each disaster which afflicts the state.
Soon as the sun forsakes the eastern main,
At ev'ry altar let a bull be slain;
171
With vows of sacrifice and humble pray'r:
But now the night invites to soft repose,
The momentary cure of human woes;
The stars descend; and soon the morning ray
Shall rouse us to the labors of the day.
The hero thus. In silence all approv'd,
And rising, various, from th' assembly mov'd.
| The Epigoniad | |