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Odes of Pindar

With several other Pieces in Prose and Verse, Translated from the Greek. To which is added a dissertation on the Olympick games. By Gilbert West
  

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Scene, a Chamber.
  
  
  
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239

Scene, a Chamber.

Enter Ocypus lame, and leaning on the Nurse.
Ocyp.
Whence, without Wound proceeds this horrid Pain,
That robs me of the Assistance of my Feet?
While, like a Bow-string by the forcefull Arm
Of some bold Archer strain'd, the cracking Sinews
Labour and stretch; and force me to complain,
That Length of Time but strengthens the Disease.

Nur.
Raise thyself up, my Son, nor bear so hard,
Lest, helpless as thou art, with thee I fall.


240

Ocyp.
Less weighty then, to humour thee, I'll lean,
And rest upon my Foot, and bear my Pain.
For Shame it is, that Youth should ask the Aid
Of such a prating, old, decrepit Wretch.

Nur.
Forbear, vain Boy, thy scoffing Insolence.
Nor vaunt too much thy Youth; for well thou know'st,
In Sickness Youth is impotent as Age.
Be govern'd; for this Arm should I withdraw,
Thou fall'st, while my old Feet unshaken stand.

Ocyp.
But if thou fall'st, thro' Age thou fall'st, not Sickness:
Old Age is weak, tho' prompt and willing ever—

Nur.
Leave arguing; and tell me by what Chance
This Pain hath got Possession of thy Toe.

Ocyp.
As in the Course I exercis'd, awry
My Ankle turn'd, and thence the Pain ensu'd.

Nur.
Why, as the Fellow said, who careless sat
Clipping his grisley Beard, then run again.

Ocyp.
Or wrestling might I not the Hurt receive,
When lock'd together were our grappling Limbs?

Nur.
A trusty Champion by my Troth thou art,
If all thy Fury light upon thyself.
But this is a meer Circle of Evasions.
And I myself the like Discourse have held
In former times, and try'd to varnish o'er,
E'en to my dearest Friends, th'unpleasing Truth;
But now when ev'ry swelling Member speaks,
And burning Dolours torture thy whole Body—


241

Enter Physician.
Phy.
O! where is Ocypus, illustrious Youth?
For lame, I hear, are his victorious Feet.
And therefore to assist him am I come.
But see! where careless on the Couch diffus'd,
Supine he lies!—Heav'n grant thee Health, my Son,
And to thy Feet restore their wonted Strength.
Declare to me, O Ocypus, the Cause
Of thy Complaint: perhaps my pow'rfull Art
May for thy Anguish find some quick Relief.

Ocyp.
Intolerable Pain my Foot consumes.

Phy.
Whence came it? how? what Accident? explain.

Ocyp.
Or in the straining Race, or happ'ly while
My Gymnick Exercises I perform'd,
Some Hurt from my Companions I receiv'd.

Phy.
Then where's the sore and angry Inflammation?
And why no Fomentation on the Part?

Ocyp.
The woolen Bandage I abhorr.

Nur.
Alas!
How banefull is the Pride of handsome Looks!

Phy.
What therefore must be done? shall I lay open
Thy tumid Foot? But, Ocypus, be sure
If once I seize upon it, I shall drain,
At many bleeding Wounds, thy Arteries.

Ocyp.
Put all thy new Devices now in Practice,
So from this horrid Pain my Foot be freed.

Phy.
Then lo! my steely Instrument I draw,
This crooked, sharp, blood-thirsting Instrument.


242

Ocyp.
Hey! ho!

Nur.
Physician, what dost thou intend?
Wou'dst thou with sharp Incisions vex him more?
And, without knowing why, his Foot endanger?
He hath abus'd thee with an idle Tale.
For neither in the straining Race, nor while
His Gymnick Exercises he perform'd,
From his Companions did he Hurt receive.
Then listen to my Tale. Healthfull he came,
And all unwounded home; and greedily
The Ev'ning Feast devour'd, and drain'd the Bowl;
Then falling on the Couch securely slept.
But at Mid-night awaking, loud he roar'd,
As smitten by some God: Fear seiz'd us all.
And, Oh! he cried, whence came this dire Mischance
Some torturing Dæmon seizes on my Foot.
Thus on his Couch up-sitting all Night long
His Foot in sad Solemnity he moan'd.
But when the Cock's shrill-sounding Trump proclaim,
The dawning Day, lamenting forth he comes,
And on my Shoulder leans his fev'rish Hand,
While his disabled Footsteps I upheld.
All that he told thee is a forg'd Device
To veil the Secret of his dire Disease,
Which now in ev'ry Limb begins to rack him,
Nor yet is able to extort the Truth.

Ocyp.
Old Age is ever arm'd with mighty Words;

243

Vaunting in Speech, but impotent in Action.
He, who when sick his nursing Friends deceives,
Like the starv'd Wretch that hungry Mastick chews,
But cheats himself, and fosters his Disease.

Phy.
Thou cheatest all; now that, now saying this,
Confessing Pain, but not explaining what.

Ocyp.
And how shall I explain it? I indeed
Know that I suffer Pain; and that is all.

Phy.
When Pain, without apparent Cause, invades
The swelling Foot, a Man may please himself
In hunting after this and that Solution,
But can't mistake the Nature of his Evil.
And now hear this, howe'er unpleasing Truth,
At length, with Vengeance due, it's come upon thee.

Ocyp.
It? what? alas! what terrible Disease,
That needs such Preface to its horrid Name?

Nur.
The Gout, O wretched Ocypus, whose Pangs
And gnawing Tortures thou didst once deride.

Ocyp.
But what, O skilfull Artist, what say'st thou?

Phy.
Farewell, to serve thee I neglect myself.

Ocyp.
What Accident or Business calls thee hence?

Phy.
Into a cureless Evil thou art fall'n.


244

Ocyp.
Must I then ever lame, tormented ever,
Drag on a Life of everlasting Woe?

Phy.
Fear not; thou shalt not be for ever lame.

Ocyp.
What worse have I to fear?

Phy.
On either Leg
Her galling Fetters will the Goddess bind.

Ocyp.
Alas! in t'other sympathizing Foot
Methinks I feel a new unusual Pain,
Or am I motionless? Or wherefore dread I [rising up.

To place these once so nimble Feet on Earth?
Seiz'd like a Child with vain and sudden Fear:
Now by the Gods, th'immortal Gods, I beg,
If ought thy Art suggest of Aid or Comfort,
Thy friendly Help impart, and heal my Pain,
Or surely I shall die: within I feel
The secret Venom, and the thrilling Arrow
That pierces thro' my Feet, and tears my Sinews.

Phy.
Not to amuse thee with unmeaning Words,
Like some of those who call themselves Physicians,
But of the healing Science nothing know,
I'll briefly shew the State of thy Complaint:
An unsurmountable and strong Disease
Is fall'n upon thee: Bonds more hard and stubborn
Than those Steel-temper'd Shackles, which the Hand
Of Justice fixes on the bold Offender:
A dreadfull, undiscover'd, secret Ill,
Whose Burden human Nature scarce can bear.


245

Ocyp.
Alas! oh! oh! what inward Smart is this,
That penetrates my Foot? oh! on thy Arm
Support me, ere I fall, and lead me on
As the young Satyrs reeling Bacchus lead.

[falls on the Couch.
Phy.
There leave him on the Couch; refreshing Sleep
His much exhausted Spirits will recruit.

Exeunt Nurse and Physician.
Ocypus solus.
Ocyp.
O horrid Name! detested by the Gods!
Gout, ruefull Gout! of sad Cocytus born!
Whom in the mirky Caves of Tartarus
The Fiend Megæra in her Womb conceiv'd,
And nourish'd at her Breast: Alecto too
With her fell Milk the wayward Infant fed.
But oh! what God brought thy disastrous Pow'r
To taint this Light, and harrass human Kind?
If Punishment condign pursue the Dead,
For Crimes committed in their Days of Nature,
What need was there in Pluto's dreary Realms
With Streams forbidden Tantalus to vex?
To whirl Ixion on the giddy Wheel?
And weary Sisyphus with fruitless Toil?

246

It sure had been sufficient Punishment
Had each Offender the sharp Pains endur'd,
That tear this meagre miserable Carcase:
While thro' th'obstructed Pores the struggling Vapour
And bitter Distillation force their Way.
E'en thro' the Bowels runs the scalding Plague,
And wastes the Flesh with Floods of eddying Fire.
So rage the Flames in Ætna's sulph'rous Womb:
So 'twixt Charybdis and vex'd Scylla rave
Th'imprison'd Tides, and in wild Whirlpools toss'd
Dash 'gainst the mould'ring Rocks the foaming Surge.
O Evil unexplor'd! how oft in vain
We fondly try to mitigate thy Woes,
And find no Comfort, by false Hopes abus'd.

Sleeps.