Odes of Pindar :: :: University of Virginia Library

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

West, Gilbert (1703-1756)

[epigraph]

ODES OF PINDAR.

The Fourth Ode of the Fourth Book of HORACE.

Iphigenia in Tauris.

THE TRIUMPHS OF THE GOUT.

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE ARGONAUTICKS OF APOLLONIUS RHODIUS.

II.

VOL. II.

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ODES OF PINDAR.

Translated from the Greek.

Olympiacæ miratus præmia palmæ.
Virg. Geo. l. iii.

[OLYMPICK ODES]

THE FIRST OLYMPICK ODE.
[_]

This Ode is inscribed to Hiero of Syracuse, who, in the Seventy third Olympiad, obtained the Victory in the Race of Single Horses.

ARGUMENT.

The Subject of this Ode being a Victory obtained by Hiero in the Olympick Games, Pindar sets out with shewing the Superiority and Pre-eminence of those Games over all others; among which, he says, they hold the same Rank, as Water (which, according to the Opinion of Thales and other Philosophers, was the Original of all Things) among the Elements, and Gold among the Gifts of Fortune. Wherefore, continues he, O my Heart, if thou art inclined to sing of Games, it would be as absurd to think of any other but the Olympick Games, as to look for Stars in the Sky, when the Sun is shining in his meridian Glory; especially as all the Guests at Hiero's Table (among which Number it is not improbable that Pindar was one at this Time) are singing Odes upon that Subject. From the mention of Hiero, he falls into a short Panegyrick upon his Virtues, and then passes to what gave Occasion to this Ode, viz. his Olympick

Victory; under which Head he makes honourable mention of his Horse, Pherenicus (for that was his Name) who gained the Victory, and spread his Master's Glory as far as Pisa, or Olympia, the ancient Residence of Pelops the Son of Tantalus; into a long Account of whom he digresses; and ridiculing, as absurd and impious, the Story of his having been cut in Pieces by his Father Tantalus, boiled, and served up at an Entertainment given by him to the Gods, relates another Story, which he thought more to the Honour both of Pelops and the Gods. This Relation he concludes with the Account of Pelops vanquishing Oenomaus, King of Pisa, in the Chariot Race, and by that Victory gaining his Daughter Hippodamîa, settling at Pisa, and being there honoured as a God. From this Relation the Poet falls again naturally into an Account of the Olympick Games, and after a short Reflexion upon the Felicity of those who gained the Olympick Crown, returns to the Praises of Hiero; with which, and some occasional Reflexions on the Prosperity of Hiero, to whom he wishes a Continuance of his good Fortune, and a long Reign, he closes his Ode.

STROPHE I.

Chief of Nature's Works divine,
Water claims the highest Praise:
Richest Offspring of the Mine,
Gold, like Fire, whose flashing Rays

From afar conspicuous gleam
Through the Night's involving Cloud,
First in Lustre and Esteem,
Decks the Treasures of the Proud:
So among the Lists of Fame
Pisa's honour'd Games excell;
Then to Pisa's glorious Name
Tune, O Muse, thy sounding Shell.

ANTISTROPHE I.

Who along the desert Air
Seeks the faded starry Train,
When the Sun's meridian Carr
Round illumes th'Ætherial Plain?
Who a nobler Theme can chuse
Than Olympia's sacred Games?
What more apt to fire the Muse,
When her various Songs she frames?
Songs in Strains of Wisdom drest
Great Saturnius to record,
And by each rejoicing Guest
Sung at Hiero's feastful Board.

EPODE I.

In pastoral Sicilia's fruitful Soil
The righteous Sceptre of Imperial Pow'r
Great Hiero wielding, with illustrious Toil
Plucks ev'ry blooming Virtue's fairest Flow'r,

His Royal Splendour to adorn:
Nor doth his skilful Hand refuse
Acquaintance with the tunefull Muse,
When round the mirthfull Board the Harp is borne.

STROPHE II.

Down then from the glitt'ring Nail
Take, O Muse, thy Dorian Lyre;
If the Love of Pisa's Vale
Pleasing Transports can inspire;
Or the rapid-footed Steed
Could with Joy thy Bosom move,
When, unwhip'd, with native Speed
O'er the dusty Course he drove;

And where deck'd with Olives flows,
Alpheus, thy immortal Flood,
On his Lord's triumphant Brows
The Olympick Wreath bestow'd:

ANTISTROPHE II.

Hiero's Royal Brows, whose Care
Tends the Courser's noble Breed;
Pleas'd to nurse the pregnant Mare,
Pleas'd to train the youthful Steed.
Now on that Heroick Land
His far beaming Glories beat,
Where with all his Lydian Band
Pelops fix'd his honour'd Seat:
Pelops, by the God belov'd,
Whose strong Arms the Globe embrace;
When by Jove's high Orders mov'd
Clotho bless'd the healing Vase.

EPODE II.

Forth from the Cauldron to new Life restor'd,
Pleas'd with the Lustre of his Iv'ry Arm
Young Pelops rose; so ancient Tales record,
And oft these Tales unheeding Mortals charm;
While gaudy Fiction deck'd with Art,
And dress'd in ev'ry winning Grace,
To Truth's unornamented Face
Preferr'd, seduces oft the human Heart.

STROPHE III.

Add to these sweet Poesy,
Smooth Inchantress of Mankind,
Clad in whose false Majesty
Fables easy Credit find.
But e'er long the rolling Year
The deceitful Tale explodes:
Then, O Man, with holy Fear
Touch the Characters of Gods.
Of their Heav'nly Natures say
Nought unseemly, nought profane,
So shalt thou due Honour pay,
So be free from guilty Stain.

ANTISTROPHE III.

Diff'ring then from ancient Fame
I thy Story will record:
How the Gods invited came
To thy Father's genial Board;
In his Turn the holy Feast
When on Sipylus he spread;
To the Tables of the Blest
In his Turn with Honour led.
Neptune then thy lovely Face,
Son of Tantalus, survey'd,
And with amorous Embrace
Far away the Prize convey'd.

EPODE III.

To the high Palace of all-honour'd Jove
With Pelops swift the golden Chariot rolls.
There, like more ancient Ganymede, above
For Neptune he prepares the nectar'd Bowls.
But for her vanish'd Son in vain
When long his tender Mother sought,
And Tidings of his Fate were brought
By none of all her much-inquiring Train;

STROPHE IV.

O'er the envious Realm with Speed
A malicious Rumour flew,
That, his heav'nly Guests to feed,
Thee thy impious Father slew:
In a Cauldron's seething Flood
That thy mangled Limbs were cast,
Thence by each voracious God
On the Board in Messes plac'd.
But shall I the Blest abuse?
With such Tales to stain her Song
Far, far be it from my Muse!
Vengeance waits th'unhallow'd Tongue.

ANTISTROPHE IV.

Sure, if e'er to Man befel
Honour from the Pow'rs divine,
Who on high Olympus dwell,
Tantalus, the Lot was thine.
But alas! his mortal Sense
All too feeble to digest
The Delights of Bliss immense,
Sicken'd at the heav'nly Feast.
Whence, his Folly to chastise,
O'er his Head with Pride elate,
Jove, great Father of the Skies,
Hung a Rock's enormous Weight.

EPODE IV.

Now vainly lab'ring with incessant Pains
Th'impending Rock's expected Fall to shun,
The fourth distressful Instance he remains
Of wretched Man by impious Pride undone;
Who to his mortal Guests convey'd
Th'incorruptible Food of Gods,
On which in their divine Abodes
Himself erst feasting was immortal made.

STROPHE V.

Vain is he, who hopes to cheat
The all-seeing Eyes of Heaven:
From Olympus' blissfull Seat,
For his Father's Theft, was driven,
Pelops, to reside once more
With frail Man's swift-passing Race.
Where (for now Youth's blowing Flow'r
Deck'd with op'ning Pride his Face;
And with manly Beauty sprung
On each Cheek the downy Shade)
Ever burning for the Young,
Hymen's Fires his Heart invade.

ANTISTROPHE V.

Anxious then th'Elean Bride
From her Royal Sire to gain,
Near the Billow-beaten Side
Of the foam besilver'd Main,
Darkling and alone he stood,
Invocating oft the Name
Of the Trident-bearing God
Strait the Trident-bearer came:
“If the sweet Delights of Love,
“Which from Beauty's Queen descend,
“Can thy yielding Bosom move,
“Mighty God, my Cause befriend.

EPODE V.

“With strong Prevention let thy Hand controll
“The brazen Lance of Pisas's furious King;
“And to the Honours of th'Elean Goal
“Me with unrival'd Speed in Triumph bring.
“Transfix'd by his unerring Spear,
“Already thirteen Youths have dy'd,
“Yet he persists with cruel Pride,
“Hippodamîa's Nuptials to deferr.

STROPHE VI.

“In the Paths of dang'rous Fame
“Trembling Cowards never tread:
“Yet since all of mortal Frame
“Must be number'd with the Dead,
“Who in dark inglorious Shade
“Would his useless Life consume,
“And with deedless Years decay'd,
“Sink unhonour'd to the Tomb?
“I that shamefull Lot disdain;
“I this doubtfull List will prove;
“May my Vows from thee obtain
“Conquest, and the Prize of Love.”

ANTISTROPHE VI.

Thus he pray'd, and mov'd the God;
Who, his bold Attempt to grace,
On the favour'd Youth bestow'd
Steeds unwearied in the Race;

Steeds, with winged Speed endued,
Harness'd to a Golden Carr.
So was Pisa's King subdu'd;
Pelops so obtain'd the Fair;
From whose Womb a noble Brood,
Six illustrious Brothers came,
All with virtuous Minds endow'd,
Leaders all of mighty Fame.

EPODE VI.

Now in the solemn Service of the Dead,
Rank'd with immortal Gods, great Pelops shares;
While to his Altar, on the wat'ry Bed
Of Alpheus rais'd, from every Clime repairs
The wond'ring Stranger, to behold
The Glories of th'Olympick Plain;
Where, the resplendent Wreath to gain,
Contend the Swift, the Active, and the Bold.

STROPHE VII.

Happy He, whose glorious Brow
Pisa's honour'd Chaplets crown!
Calm his Stream of Life shall flow,
Shelter'd by his high Renown.
That alone is Bliss supreme,
Which, unknowing to decay,
Still with ever-shining Beam
Gladdens each succeeding Day.
Then for happy Hiero weave
Garlands of Æolian Strains;
Him these Honours to receive
The Olympick Law ordains.

ANTISTROPHE VII.

Nor more worthy of her Lay
Can the Muse a Mortal find;
Greater in Imperial Sway,
Richer in a virtuous Mind;

Heav'n, O King, with tender care
Waits thy Wishes to fulfil.
Then e'er long will I prepare,
Plac'd on Chronium's sunny Hill,
Thee in sweeter Verse to praise,
Following thy victorious Steeds;
If to prosper all thy Ways
Still thy Guardian God proceeds.

EPODE VII.

Fate hath in various Stations rank'd Mankind:
In Royal Pow'r the long Gradations end.
By that Horizon prudently confin'd,
Let not thy Hopes to farther Views extend.
Long may'st thou wear the Regal Crown,
And may thy Bard his Wish receive,
With thee, and such as thee to live,
Around his native Greece for Wisdom known.

THE SECOND OLYMPICK ODE.
[_]

This Ode is inscribed to Theron King of Agrigentum, who came off Conqueror in the Race of Chariots drawn by Four Horses, in the Seventy seventh Olympiad.

ARGUMENT

The Poet, in answer to the Question, What God, what Here, and what Mortal he should sing (with which Words this Ode immediately begins) having named Jupiter and Hercules, not only as the first of Gods and Heroes, but as they were peculiarly related to his Subject; the one being the Protector, and the other the Founder of the Olympick Games; falls directly into the Praises of Theron: by this Method artfully insinuating, that Theron held the same Rank among all Mortals, as the Two former did among the Gods and Heroes. In enumerating the many Excellencies of Theron, the Poet, having made mention of the Nobility of his Family (a Topick seldom or never omitted by Pindar) takes occasion to lay before him the various Accidents and Vicissitudes of human Life, by Instances drawn from the History of his own Ancestors, the Founders of Agrigentum; who, it seems, underwent many Difficulties, before they could

build, and settle themselves in that City; where afterwards, indeed, they made a very considerable Figure, and were rewarded for their past Sufferings with Wealth and Honour; according to which Method of proceeding, the Poet (alluding to some Misfortunes that had befallen Theron) beseeches Jupiter to deal with their Posterity, by recompensing their former Afflictions with a Series of Peace and Happiness for the future; in the Enjoyment of which they would soon lose the Memory of whatever they had suffered in Times past: the constant Effect of Prosperity being to make Men forget their past Adversity; which is the only Reparation that can be made to them for the Miseries they have undergone. The Truth of this Position he makes appear from the History of the same Family; by the farther Instances of Semele, Ino, and Thersander; and lastly, of Theron himself, whose former Cares and Troubles, he insinuates, are repaid by his present Happiness and Victory in the Olympick Games: For his Success in which, the Poet however intimates, that Theron was no less indebted to his Riches, than to his Virtue, since he was enabled by the one, as well as disposed by the other, to undergo the Trouble and Expence that was necessary to qualify him for a Candidate for the Olympick Crown in particular, and, in general, for the Performance of any great and worthy Action: for the Words are general. From whence he takes occasion to tell him, that the Man who possesses these Treasures, viz. Riches and Virtue, that is, the Means and the Inclination of doing good and great Actions, has the farther Satisfaction of knowing, that he
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shall be rewarded for it hereafter; and go among the Heroes into the Fortunate Islands (the Paradise of the Ancients) which he here describes; some of whose Inhabitants are likewise mentioned by way of inciting Theron to an Imitation of their Actions; as Peleus, Cadmus, and Achilles. Here the Poet, finding himself, as well from the Abundance of Matter, as from the Fertility of his own Genius, in danger of wandering too far from his Subject, recalls his Muse, and returns to the Praise of Theron; whose Beneficence and Generosity, he tells us, were not to be equalled: With which, and with some Reflections upon the Enemies and Malignen of Theron, he concludes.

STROPHE I.

Ye choral Hymns, harmonious Lays,
Sweet Rulers of the Lyrick String,
What God? what Hero's godlike Praise?
What Mortal shall we sing?
With Jove, with Pisa's Guardian God,
Begin, O Muse, th'Olympick Ode.
Alcides, Jove's Heroick Son,
The second Honours claims;
Who, off'ring up the Spoils from Augeas won,
Establish'd to his Sire th'Olympick Games;
Where bright in Wreaths of Conquest Theron shone.

Then of victorious Theron sing!
Of Theron hospitable, just, and great!
Fam'd Agrigentum's honour'd King,
The Prop and Bulwark of her tow'ring State;
A righteous Prince! whose flow'ring Virtues grace
The venerable Stem of his illustrious Race:

ANTISTROPHE I.

A Race, long exercis'd in Woes,
Ere, smiling o'er her kindred Flood,
The Mansion of their wish'd Repose,
Their sacred City stood;
And through amaz'd Sicilia shone
The Lustre of their fair Renown.
Thence, as the milder Fates decreed,
In destin'd Order born,
Auspicious Hours with smoother Pace succeed;
While Pow'r and Wealth the noble Line adorn,
And Public Favour, Virtue's richest Meed.

O Son of Rhea, God supreme!
Whose kingly Hands th'Olympian Sceptre wield!
Rever'd on Alpheus' sacred Stream!
And honour'd most in Pisa's listed Field!
Propitious listen to my soothing Strain!
And to the worthy Sons their Father's Rights maintain!

EPODE I.

Peace on their future Life, and Wealth bestow;
And bid their present Moments calmly flow.
The Deed once done no Pow'r can abrogate,
Not the great Sire of all Things, Time, nor Fate.
But sweet Oblivion of disastrous Care,
And Good succeeding, may the Wrong repair,
Lost in the Brightness of returning Day,
The gloomy Terrors of the Night decay;
When Jove commands the Sun of Joy to rise,
And opens into Smiles the Cloud-invelop'd Skies.

STROPHE II.

Thy hapless Daughters' various Fate
This moral Truth, O Cadmus, shows;
Who vested now with Godlike State
On heav'nly Thrones repose;

And yet Affliction's thorny Road
In bitter Anguish once they trod.
But Bliss superior hath eras'd
The Mem'ry of their Woe;
While Semele, on high Olympus plac'd,
To heav'nly Zephyrs bids her Tresses flow,
Once by devouring Lightnings all defac'd.
There with immortal Charms improv'd,
Inhabitant of Heav'n's serene Abodes
She dwells, by Virgin Pallas lov'd,
Lov'd by Saturnius, Father of the Gods;
Lov'd by her youthful Son, whose Brows divine,
In twisting Ivy bound, with Joy eternal shine.

ANTISTROPHE II.

To Ino, Goddess of the Main,
The Fates an equal Lot decree,
Rank'd with old Ocean's Nereid Train,
Bright Daughters of the Sea.
Deep in the pearly Realms below,
Immortal Happiness to know.
But here our Day's appointed End
To Mortals is unknown;
Whether Distress our Period shall attend,
And in tumultuous Storms our Sun go down,
Or to the Shades in peaceful Calms descend.

For various flows the Tide of Life,
Obnoxious still to Fortune's veering Gale;
Now rough with Anguish, Care, and Strife,
O'erwhelming Waves the shatter'd Bark assail:
Now glide serene and smooth the limpid Streams;
And on the Surface play Apollo's golden Beams.

EPODE II.

Thus, Fate, O Theron, that with Bliss divine
And Glory once enrich'd thy ancient Line,
Again reversing ev'ry gracious Deed,
Woe to thy wretched Sires and Shame decreed;
What Time, encount'ring on the Phocian Plain,
By luckless Oedipus was Laius slain.
To Parricide by Fortune blindly led,
His Father's precious Life the Hero shed;
Doom'd to fulfill the Oracles of Heav'n,
To Thebes' ill destin'd King by Pythian Phœbus giv'n.

STROPHE III.

But with a fierce avenging Eye
Erinnys the foul Murder view'd,
And bade his warring Offspring die,
By mutual Rage subdu'd.
Pierc'd by his Brother's hateful Steel
Thus haughty Polynices fell.
Thersander, born to calmer Days,
Surviv'd his falling Sire,
In youthful Games to win immortal Praise;
Renown in martial Combats to acquire,
And high in Pow'r th'Adrastian House to raise.
Forth from this venerable Root
Ænesidamus and his Theron spring;
For whom I touch my Dorian Flute,
For whom triumphant strike my sounding String.
Due to his Glory is th'Aonian Strain,
Whose Virtue gain'd the Prize in fam'd Olympia's Plain.

ANTISTROPHE III.

Alone in fam'd Olympia's Sand
The Victor's Chaplet Theron wore;
But with him on the Isthmian Strand,
On sweet Castalia's Shore,
The verdant Crowns, the proud Reward
Of Victory his Brother shar'd,
Copartner in immortal Praise,
As warm'd with equal Zeal
The light-foot Courser's gen'rous Breed to raise,
And whirl around the Goal the fervid Wheel.
The painful Strife Olympia's Wreath repays:
But Wealth with nobler Virtue join'd
The Means and fair Occasions must procure;
In Glory's Chace must aid the Mind,
Expence, and Toil, and Danger to endure;
With mingling Rays they feed each other's Flame,
And shine the brightest Lamp in all the Sphere of Fame.

EPODE III.

The happy Mortal, who these Treasures shares,
Well knows what Fate attends his gen'rous Cares;
Knows, that beyond the Verge of Life and Light,
In the sad Regions of infernal Night,

The fierce, impracticable, churlish Mind
Avenging Gods and penal Woes shall find;
Where strict inquiring Justice shall bewray
The Crimes committed in the Realms of Day.
The impartial Judge the rigid Law declares,
No more to be revers'd by Penitence or Pray'rs.

STROPHE IV.

But in the happy Fields of Light,
Where Phœbus with an equal Ray
Illuminates the balmy Night,
And gilds the cloudless Day,
In peaceful, unmolested Joy,
The Good their smiling Hours employ.
Them no uneasy Wants constrain
To vex th'ungrateful Soil,
To tempt the Dangers of the billowy Main,
And break their Strength with unabating Toil,
A frail disastrous Being to maintain.
But in their joyous calm Abodes,
The Recompence of Justice they receive;
And in the Fellowship of Gods
Without a Tear eternal Ages live.
While banish'd by the Fates from Joy and Rest,
Intolerable Woes the impious Soul infest.

ANTISTROPHE IV.

But they who, in true Virtue strong,
The third Purgation can endure;
And keep their Minds from fraudful Wrong,
And Guilt's Contagion pure;
They through the starry Paths of Jove
To Saturn's blissful Seat remove;
Where fragrant Breezes, vernal Airs,
Sweet Children of the Main,
Purge the blest Island from corroding Cares,
And fan the Bosom of each verdant Plain:
Whose fertile Soil immortal Fruitage bears;
Trees, from whose flaming Branches flow
Array'd in golden Bloom refulgent Beams;
And Flow'rs of golden Hue, that blow
On the fresh Borders of their Parent Streams.
These by the Blest in solemn Triumph worn,
Their unpolluted Hands and clust'ring Locks adorn.

EPODE IV.

Such is the righteous Will, the high Behest
Of Rhadamanthus, Ruler of the Blest;
The just Assessor of the Throne divine,
On which, high rais'd above all Gods, recline,
Link'd in the Golden Bands of wedded Love,
The great Progenitors of Thund'ring Jove.
There, in the Number of the Blest enroll'd,
Live Cadmus, Peleus, Heroes fam'd of old;
And young Achilles, to those Isles remov'd,
Soon as, by Thetis won, relenting Jove approv'd:

STROPHE V.

Achilles, whose resistless Might
Troy's stable Pillar overthrew,
The valiant Hector, firm in Fight,
And hardy Cygnus slew,
And Memnon, Offspring of the Morn,
In torrid Æthiopia born—
Yet in my well-stor'd Breast remain
Materials to supply
With copious Argument my Moral Strain,
Whose mystick Sense the Wise alone descry,
Still to the Vulgar sounding harsh and vain.

He only, in whose ample Breast
Nature hath true inherent Genius pour'd,
The Praise of Wisdom may contest;
Not they who, with loquacious Learning stor'd,
Like Crows and chatt'ring Jays, with clam'rous Cries
Pursue the Bird of Jove, that sails along the Skies.

ANTISTROPHE V.

Come on! thy brightest Shafts prepare,
And bend, O Muse, thy sounding Bow;
Say, through what Paths of liquid Air
Our Arrows shall we throw?

On Agrigentum fix thine Eye,
Thither let all thy Quiver fly.
And thou, O Agrigentum, hear,
While with religious Dread,
And taught the Laws of Justice to revere,
To heav'nly Vengeance I devote my Head,
If aught to Truth repugnant now I swear,
Swear, that no State, revolving o'er
The long Memorials of recorded Days,
Can shew in all her boasted Store
A Name to parallel thy Theron's Praise;
One to the Acts of Friendship so inclin'd,
So fam'd for bounteous Deeds, and Love of Human Kind.

EPODE V.

Yet hath obstrep'rous Envy sought to drown
The goodly Musick of his sweet Renown;
While by some frantick Spirits borne along
To mad Attempts of Violence and Wrong,
She turn'd against him Faction's raging Flood,
And strove with evil Deeds to conquer Good.

But who can number ev'ry sandy Grain
Wash'd by Sicilia's hoarse-resounding Main?
Or who can Theron's gen'rous Works express,
And tell how many Hearts his bounteous Virtues bless!

THE THIRD OLYMPICK ODE.
[_]

This Ode is likewise inscribed to Theron King of Agrigentum, upon the Occasion of another Victory obtained by him in the Chariot-Race at Olympia; the Date of which is unknown.

ARGUMENT

The Scholiast acquaints us, that as Theron was celebrating the Theoxenia, (a Festival instituted by Castor and Pollux in Honour of all the Gods) he received the News of a Victory obtained by his Chariot in the Olympick Games: From this Circumstance the Poet takes Occasion to address this Ode to those two Deities and their Sister Helena, in whose Temple, the same Scholiast informs us, some People with greatest Probability conjectured, it was sung, at a solemn Sacrifice there offered by Theron to those Deities, and to Hercules also, as may be inferred from a Passage in the third Strophe of the Translation. But there is another, and a more poetical Propriety in Pindar's invoking these Divinities, that is suggested in the Ode itself: for, after mentioning the Occasion of his composing it, namely, the Olympick Victory of Theron, and saying that a triumphal

Song was a Tribute due to that Person, upon whom the Hellanodick, or Judge of the Games, bestowed the sacred Olive, according to the Institution of their first Founder Hercules, he proceeds to relate the fabulous, but legendary Story, of that Hero's having brought that Plant originally from Scythia, the Country of the Hyperboreans, to Olympia; having planted it there near the Temple of Jupiter, and ordered that the Victors in those Games should, for the future, be crowned with the Branches of this sacred Tree. To this he adds, that Hercules, upon his being removed to Heaven, appointed the Twin-Brothers, Castor and Pollux, to celebrate the Olympick Games, and execute the Office of bestowing the Olive-Crown upon those who obtained the Victory; and now, continues Pindar, he comes a propitious Guest to this Sacrifice of Theron, in Company with the two Sons of Leda, who, to reward the Piety and Zeal of Theron and his Family, have given them Success and Glory; to the utmost Limits of which he insinuates that Theron is arrived, and so concludes with affirming, that it would be in vain for any Man, wise or unwise, to attempt to surpass him.

To Theron King of Agrigentum.

STROPHE I.

While to the Fame of Agragas I sing,
For Theron wake th'Olympick String,
And with Aonian Garlands grace
His Steeds unweary'd in the Race,
O may the hospitable Twins of Jove,
And bright-hair'd Helena the Song approve!
For this the Muse bestow'd her Aid,
As in new Measures I essay'd
To harmonize the tuneful Words,
And set to Dorian Airs my sounding Chords.

ANTISTROPHE I.

And lo! the conqu'ring Steeds, whose tossing Heads
Olympia's verdant Wreath bespreads,
The Muse-imparted Tribute claim,
Due, Theron, to thy glorious Name;

And bid me temper in their Master's Praise
The Flute, the warbling Lyre, and melting Lays,
Lo! Pisa too the Song requires!
Elean Pisa, that inspires
The glowing Bard with eager Care
His Heav'n-directed Present to prepare:

EPODE I.

The Present offer'd to his virtuous Fame,
On whose ennobled Brows,
The righteous Umpire of the sacred Game,
Th'Ætolian Judge bestows
The darksome Olive, studious to fulfill
The mighty Founder's Will.

Who this fair Ensign of Olympick Toil
From distant Scythia's fruitful Soil,
And Hyperborean Ister's woody Shore,
With fair Entreaties gain'd, to Grecian Elis bore.

STROPHE II.

The blameless Servants of the Delphick God
With Joy the valued Gift bestow'd;
Mov'd by the friendly Chief to grant,
On Terms of Peace, the sacred Plant;

Destin'd at once to shade Jove's honour'd Shrine
And crown Heroick Worth with Wreaths Divine.
For now full-orb'd the wand'ring Moon
In plenitude of Brightness shone,
And on the spacious Eye of Night
Pour'd all the Radiance of her golden Light:

ANTISTROPHE II.

Now on Jove's Altars blaz'd the hallow'd Flames,
And now were fix'd the mighty Games,
Again, when e'er the circling Sun
Four times his annual Course had run,
Their Period to renew, and shine again
On Alpheus' craggy Shores and Pisa's Plain:
But subject all the Region lay
To the fierce Sun's insulting Ray,
While upon Pelops' burning Vale
No Shade arose his Fury to repell.

EPODE II.

Then traversing the Hills, whose jutting Base
Indents Arcadia's Meads,
To where the Virgin Goddess of the Chace
Impells her foaming Steeds,
To Scythian Ister he directs his Way,
Doom'd by his Father to obey
The rigid Pleasures of Mycenæ's King,
And thence the rapid Hind to bring,

Whom, sacred Present for the Orthian Maid,
With Horns of branching Gold, Taÿgeta array'd.

STROPHE III.

There as the longsome Chace the Chief pursu'd,
The spacious Scythian I lains he view'd;
A Land beyond the chilling Blast,
And Northern Caves of Boreas cast:
There too the Groves of Olive he survey'd,
And gaz'd with Rapture on the pleasing Shade,
Thence by the wond'ring Hero borne
The Goals of Elis to adorn.
And now to Theron's sacred Feast
With Leda's Twins he comes, propitious Guest!

ANTISTROPHE III.

To Leda's Twins (when Heav'n's divine Abodes
He fought, and mingled with the Gods)
He gave th'illustrious Games to hold,
And crown the Swife, the Strong, and Bold.
Then, Muse, to Theron and his House proclaim
The joyous Tidings of Success and Fame,
By Leda's Twins bestow'd to grace,
Emmenides, thy pious Race,
Who mindful of Heav'n's high Behests
With strictest Zeal observe their Holy Feasts.

EPODE III.

As Water's vital Streams all Things surpass,
As Gold's all-worship'd Ore
Holds amid Fortune's Stores the highest Class;
So to that distant Shore,
To where the Pillars of Alcides rise,
Fame's utmost Boundaries,
Theron pursuing his successful Way,
Hath deck'd with Glory's brightest Ray
His Lineal Virtues.—Farther to attain,
Wise, and Unwise, with me despair: th'Attempt werevain.

THE FIFTH OLYMPICK ODE.
[_]

This Ode is inscribed to Psaumis of Camarina (a Town in Sicily) who, in the Eighty second Olympiad, obtained Three Victories; one in the Race of Chariots drawn by Four Horses; a second in the Race of the Apené, or Chariot drawn by Mules, and a third in the Race of Single Horses.

Some People (it seems) have doubted, whether this Ode be Pindar's, for certain Reasons, which together with the Arguments on the other Side, the learned Reader may find in the Oxford Edition and others of this Author; where it is clearly proved to be genuine. But besides the Reasons there given for doubting if this Ode be Pindar's, there is another (though not mentioned, as I know of, by any one) which may have helped to biass People in their Judgment upon this Question. I shall therefore beg leave to consider it a little, because what I shall say upon that Head, will tend to illustrate both the Meaning and the Method of Pindar in this Ode. In the Greek Editions of this Author there are Two Odes (of which this is the second) inscribed to the same Psaumis, and dated both in the same Olympiad. But they differ from
43

each other in several Particulars, as well in the Matter as the Manner. In the Second Ode, Notice is taken of Three Victories obtained by Psaumis; in the First, of only One, viz. that obtained by him in the Race of Chariots drawn by Four Horses: In the Second, not only the City of Camarina, but the Lake of the same Name, many Rivers adjoining to it, and some Circumstances relating to the present State, and the rebuilding of that City (which had been destroyed by the Syracusians some Years before) are mentioned; whereas in the First, Camarina is barely named, as the Country of the Conqueror, and as it were out of Form: From all which I conclude, that these two Odes were composed to be sung at different Times, and in different Places. The First at Olympia, immediately upon Psaumis's being proclaimed Conqueror in the Chariot-Race, and before he obtained his other two Victories. This may with great Probability be inferred as well from no mention being there made of those two Victories, as from the Prayer which the Poet subjoins immediately to his Account of the First, viz. that Heaven would in like Manner be favourable to the rest of the Victor's Wishes; which Prayer, though it be in general Words, and one frequently used by Pindar in other of his Odes, yet has a peculiar Beauty and Propriety, if taken to relate to the other Two Exercises, in which Psaumis was
44

still to contend; and in which he afterwards came off victorious. That it was the Custom for a Conqueror, at the Time of his being proclaimed, to be attended by a Chorus, who sung a Song of Triumph in Honour of his Victory, I have observed in the Dissertation prefixed to these Odes. In the Second, there are so many Marks of its having been made to be sung at the triumphal Entry of Psaumis into his own Country, and those so evident, that, after this Hint given, the Reader cannot help observing them, as he goes through the Ode. I shall therefore say nothing more of them in this Place; but that they tend, by shewing for what Occasion this Ode was calculated, to confirm what I said relating to the other; and jointly with that to prove, that there is no reason to conclude from there being two Odes inscribed to the same Person, and dated in the same Olympiad, that the latter is not Pindar's, especially as it appears, both in the Style and Spirit, altogether worthy of him.

ARGUMENT.

The Poet begins with addressing himself to Camarina, a Sea Nymph, from whom the City and Lake were both named, to bespeak a favourable Reception of his Ode, a Present which he tells her was made to her by Psaumis, who rendered her City illustrious at the Olympick Games; where having obtained

Three Victories, he consecrated his Fame to Camarina, by ordering the Herald, when he proclaimed him Conqueror, to style him of that City. This he did at Olympia; but now, continues Pindar, upon his coming home, he is more particular, and inserts in his triumphal Song the Names of the principal Places and Rivers belonging to Camarina: from whence the Poet takes occasion to speak of the rebuilding of that City, which was done about this Time, and of the State of Glory, to which, out of her low and miserable Condition, she was now brought by the means of Psaumis, and by the Lustre cast on her by his Victories; Victories (says he) not to be obtained without much Labour and Expence, the usual Attendants of great and glorious Actions; but the Man who succeeded in such like Undertakings, was sure to be rewarded with the Love and Approbation of his Country. The Poet then addresses himself to Jupiter in a Prayer, beseeching him to adorn the City and State of Camarina with Virtue and Glory; and to grant to the Victor Psaumis a joyful and contented Old Age, and the Happiness of dying before his Children: after which he concludes with an Exhortation to Psaumis to be contented with his Condition; which he insinuates was as happy as that of a Mortal could be, and it was to no Purpose for him to wish to be a God.

STROPHE.

Fair Camarina, Daughter of the Main,
With gracious Smiles this Choral Song receive,
Sweet Fruit of virtuous Toils; whose noble Strain
Shall to th'Olympick Wreath new Lustre give:

This Psaumis, whom on Alpheus' Shore
With unabating Speed
The harness'd Mules to Conquest bore,
This Gift to Thee decreed;
Thee, Camarina, whose well-peopled Tow'rs
Thy Psaumis render'd great in Fame,
When to the Twelve Olympian Pow'rs
He fed with Victims the triumphal Flame.
When, the double Altars round,
Slaughter'd Bulls bestrew'd the Ground;
When, on Five selected Days,
Jove survey'd the Lists of Praise;
While along the dusty Course
Psaumis urg'd his straining Horse,
Or beneath the social Yoke
Made the well-match'd Coursers smoke;
Or around th'Elean Goal
Taught his Mule-drawn Carr to roll.
Then did the Victor dedicate his Fame
To Thee, and bade the Herald's Voice proclaim
Thy new-establish'd Walls, and Acron's honour'd Name.

ANTISTROPHE.

But now return'd from where the pleasant Seat
Once of Oenomaus and Pelops stood,
Thee, Civick Pallas, and thy chaste Retreat,
He bids me sing, and fair Oanus' Flood,
And Camarina's sleeping Wave,
And those sequestred Shores,
Through which the thirsty Town to lave
Smooth flow the watry Stores
Of fishy Hipparis, profoundest Stream,
Adown whose Wood-envelop'd Tide
The solid Pile, and lofty Beam,
Materials for the future Palace, glide.
Thus by War's rude Tempests torn,
Plung'd in Misery and Scorn,
Once again, with Pow'r array'd,
Camarina lifts her Head,
Gayly bright'ning in the Blaze,
Psaumis, of thy hard-earn'd Praise.

Trouble, Care, Expence attend
Him, who labours to ascend
Where, approaching to the Skies,
Virtue holds the sacred Prize,
That tempts him to atchieve the dangerous Deed:
But, if his well-concerted Toils succeed,
His Country's just Applause shall be his glorious Meed.

EPODE

O Jove! Protector of Mankind!
O Cloud-enthroned King of Gods!
Who on the Cronian Mount reclin'd,
With Honour crown'st the wide-stream'd Floods
Of Alpheus, and the solemn Gloom
Of Ida's Cave! to thee I come
Thy Suppliant, to soft Lydian Reeds,
Sweet breathing forth my tuneful Pray'r,
That, grac'd with noble, valiant Deeds,
This State may prove thy Guardian Care;
And Thou, on whose victorious Brow
Olympia bound the sacred Bough,
Thou whom Neptunian Steeds delight,
With Age, Content, and Quiet crown'd,
Calm may'st thou sink to endless Night,
Thy Children, Psaumis, weeping round.

And since the Gods have giv'n thee Fame and Wealth,
Join'd with that Prime of Earthly Treasures, Health,
Enjoy the Blessings they to Man assign,
Nor fondly sigh for Happiness divine.

THE SEVENTH OLYMPICK ODE.
[_]

This Ode is inscribed to Diagoras, the Son of Damagetus, of Rhodes, who, in the Seventy ninth Olympiad, obtained the Victory in the Exercise of the Cæstus.

This Ode was in such Esteem among the Ancients, that it was deposited in a Temple of Minerva, written in Letters of Gold.

ARGUMENT.

The Poet begins this noble Song of Triumph with a Simile, by which he endeavours to shew his great Esteem for those who obtain the Victory in the Olympick and other Games; as also the Value of the Present, that he makes them upon that Occasion; a Present always acceptable, because Fame and Praise is that which delights all Mortals; wherefore the Muse, says he, is perpetually looking about for proper Objects to bestow it upon; and seeing the great Actions of Diagoras, takes up a Resolution of celebrating Him, the Isle of Rhodes his Country, and his Father Damagetus (according to the Form observed by the Herald in proclaiming the Conquerors; which I mentioned in the Notes upon the last Ode) Damagetus, and consequently Diagoras, being descended from Tlepolemus, who led over a Colony of Grecians from

Argos to Rhodes, where he settled, and obtained the Dominion of that Island. From Tlepolemus, therefore, Pindar declares he will deduce his Song; which he addresses to all the Rhodians in common with Diagoras, who were descended from Tlepolemus, or from those Grecians that came over with him; that is, almost all the People of Rhodes, who indeed are as much (if not more) interested in the greatest Part of this Ode, as Diagoras the Conqueror. Pindar accordingly relates the Occasion of Tlepolemus's coming to Rhodes, which he tells us was in Obedience to an Oracle, that commanded him to seek out that Island; which, instead of telling us its Name, Pindar, in a more poetical Manner, characterises by relating of it some Legendary Stories (if I may so speak) that were peculiar to the Isle of Rhodes; such as the Golden Shower, and the Occasion of Apollo's chusing that Island for himself; both which Stories he relates at large with such a Flame of Poetry, as shews his Imagination to have been extremely heated and elevated with his Subjects. Neither does he seem to cool in the short Account that he gives, in the next Place, of the Passion of Apollo for the Nymph Rhodos, from whom the Island received its Name, and from whom were descended its original Inhabitants (whom just before the Poet therefore called the Sons of Apollo) and particularly the three Brothers, Camirus, Lindus, and Jalysus; who divided that Country into three Kingdoms, and built the three principal Cities, which retained their Names. In this Island Tlepolemus (says the Poet, returning to the Story of that Hero) found
52

Rest, and a Period to all his Misfortunes, and at length grew into such Esteem with the Rhodians, that they worshipped him as a God, appointing Sacrifices to him, and instituting Games in his Honour. The Mention of those Games naturally brings back the Poet to Diagoras, and gives him Occasion, from the Two Victories obtained by Diagoras in those Games, to enumerate all the Prizes won by that famous Conqueror in all the Games of Greece: after which Enumeration he begs of Jupiter, in a solemn Prayer, to grant Diagoras the Love of his Country, and the Admiration of all the World, as a Reward for the many Virtues for which he and his Family had always been distinguished, and for which their Country had so often triumphed: and then, as if he had been a Witness of the extravagant Transports of the Rhodians (to which, not the Festival only occasioned by the triumphal Entry of their Countryman, and the Glory reflected upon them by his Victories, but much more the flattering and extraordinary Eulogiums bestowed upon the whole Nation in this Ode, might have given Birth) the Poet on a sudden changes his Hand, and checks their Pride by a moral Reflection on the Vicissitude of Fortune, with which he exhorts them to Moderation, and so concludes.

HEROICK STANZAS.

I

As when a Father in the golden Vase,
The Pride and Glory of his wealthy Stores,
Bent his lov'd Daughter's nuptial Torch to grace,
The Vineyard's purple Dews profusely pours;

II

Then to his Lips the foaming Chalice rears,
With Blessings hallow'd and auspicious Vows,
And mingling with the Draught transporting Tears,
On the young Bridegroom the rich Gift bestows;

III

The precious Earnest of Esteem sincere,
Of friendly Union and connubial Love:
The bridal Train the sacred Pledge revere,
And round the Youth in sprightly Measures move.

IV

He to his Home the valu'd Present bears,
The Grace and Ornament of future Feasts;
Where, as his Father's Bounty he declares,
Wonder shall seize the gratulating Guests.

V

Thus on the Valiant, on the Swift, and Strong,
Castalia's genuine Nectar I bestow;
And pouring forth the Muse-descended Song,
Bid to their Praises the rich Numbers flow.

VI

Grateful to them resounds th'harmonick Ode,
The Gift of Friendship and the Pledge of Fame.
Happy the Mortal, whom th'Aonian God
Chears with the Musick of a glorious Name!

VII

The Muse her piercing Glances throws around,
And quick discovers ev'ry worthy Deed:
And now she wakes the Lyre's inchanting Sound,
Now fills with various Strains the vocal Reed:

VIII

But here each Instrument of Song divine,
The vocal Reed and Lyre's enchanting String
She tunes, and bids their Harmony combine
Thee, and thy Rhodes, Diagoras, to sing;

IX

Thee and thy Country native of the Flood,
Which from bright Rhodos draws her honour'd Name,
Fair Nymph, whose Charms subdu'd the Delphick God,
Fair blooming Daughter of the Cyprian Dame:

X

To sing thy Triumphs in th'Olympick Sand,
Where Alpheus saw thy Giant-Temples crown'd;
Fam'd Pythia too proclaim'd thy conqu'ring Hand,
Where sweet Castalia's mystick Currents sound.

XI

Nor Damagetus will I pass unsung,
Thy Sire, the Friend of Justice and of Truth;
From noble Ancestors whose Lineage sprung,
The Chiefs who led to Rhodes the Argive Youth.

XII

There near to Asia's wide-extended Strand,
Where jutting Embolus the Waves divides,
In three Divisions they possess'd the Land,
Enthron'd amid the hoarse-resounding Tides.

XIII

To their Descendants will I tune my Lyre,
The Offspring of Alcides bold and strong,
And from Tlepolemus, their common Sire,
Deduce the national historick Song.

XIV

Tlepolemus of great Alcides came,
The Fruits of fair Astydameîa's Love,
Jove-born Amyntor got the Argive Dame:
So either Lineage is deriv'd from Jove.

XV

But wrapt in Error is the human Mind,
And human Bliss is ever insecure:
Know we what Fortune yet remains behind?
Know we how long the present shall endure?

XVI

For lo! the Founder of the Rhodian State,
Who from Saturnian Jove his Being drew,
While his fell Bosom swell'd with vengeful Hate,
The Bastard-brother of Alcmena slew.

XVII

With his rude Mace, in fair Tiryntha's Walls,
Tlepolemus inflicts the horrid Wound:
Ev'n at his Mother's Door Licymnius falls,
Yet warm from her Embrace, and bites the Ground.

XVIII

Passion may oft the wisest Heart surprize:
Conscious and trembling for the murd'rous Deed,
To Delphi's Oracle the Hero flies,
Sollicitous to learn what Heav'n decreed.

XIX

Him bright-hair'd Phœbus, from his od'rous Fane,
Bade set his flying Sails from Lerna's Shore,
And, in the Bosom of the Eastern Main,
That Sea-girt Region hasten to explore;

XX

That blissful Island, where a wond'rous Cloud
Once rain'd, at Jove's Command, a Golden Show'r;
What Time, assisted by the Lemnian God,
The King of Heav'n brought forth the Virgin Pow'r.

XXI

By Vulcan's Art the Father's teeming Head
Was open'd wide, and forth impetuous sprung,
And shouted fierce and loud, the Warrior Maid:
Old Mother Earth and Heav'n affrighted rung.

XXII

Then Hyperion's Son, pure Fount of Day,
Did to his Children the strange Tale reveal:
He warn'd them strait the Sacrifice to slay,
And worship the young Pow'r with earliest Zeal.

XXIII

So would they sooth the mighty Father's Mind,
Pleas'd with the Honours to his Daughter paid;
And so propitious ever would they find
Minerva, warlike, formidable Maid,

XXIV

On staid Precaution, vigilant and wise,
True Virtue, and true Happiness depend;
But oft Oblivion's dark'ning Clouds arise,
And from the destin'd Scope our Purpose bend.

XXV

The Rhodians, mindful of their Sire's Behest,
Strait in the Citadel an Altar rear'd;
But with imperfect Rites the Pow'r address'd,
And without Fire their Sacrifice prepar'd.

XXVI

Yet Jove approving o'er th'Assembly spread
A yellow Cloud, that drop'd with golden Dews;
While in their op'ning Hearts the blue-ey'd Maid
Deign'd her Celestial Science to infuse.

XXVII

Thence in all Arts the Sons of Rhodes excel,
Tho' best their forming Hands the Chissel guide;
This in each Street the breathing Marbles tell,
The Stranger's Wonder, and the City's Pride.

XXVIII

Great Praise the Works of Rhodian Artists find,
Yet to their heav'nly Mistress much they owe;
Since Art and Learning cultivate the Mind,
And make the Seeds of Genius quicker grow.

XXIX

Some say, that when by Lot th'immortal Gods
With Jove these earthly Regions did divide,
All undiscover'd lay Phœbean Rhodes,
Whelm'd deep beneath the salt Carpathian Tide;

XXX

That, absent on his Course, the God of Day
By all the heav'nly Synod was forgot,
Who, his incessant Labours to repay,
Nor Land nor Sea to Phœbus did allot;

XXXI

That Jove reminded would again renew
Th'unjust Partition, but the God deny'd;
And said, Beneath yon hoary Surge I view
An Isle emerging thro' the briny Tide:

XXXII

A Region pregnant with the fertile Seed
Of Plants, and Herbs, and Fruits, and foodful Grain;
Each verdant Hill unnumber'd Flocks shall feed;
Unnumber'd Men possess each flow'ry Plain.

XXXIII

Then strait to Lachesis he gave Command,
Who binds in Golden Cauls her Jetty Hair;
He bade the fatal Sister stretch her Hand,
And by the Stygian Rivers bade her swear;

XXXIV

Swear to confirm the Thunderer's Decree,
Which to his Rule that fruitful Island gave,
When from the ouzy Bottom of the Sea
Her Head she rear'd above the Lycian Wave.

XXXV

The fatal Sister swore, nor swore in vain;
Nor did the Tongue of Delphi's Prophet err;
Up-sprung the blooming Island through the Main;
And Jove on Phœbus did the Boon confer.

XXXVI

In this fam'd Isle, the radiant Sire of Light,
The God whose Reins the fiery Steeds obey,
Fair Rhodos saw, and, kindling at the Sight,
Seiz'd, and by Force enjoy'd the beauteous Prey:

XXXVII

From whose divine Embraces sprung a Race
Of Mortals, wisest of all Human-kind;
Seven Sons, endow'd with ev'ry noble Grace;
The noble Graces of a sapient Mind.

XXXVIII

Of these Ialysus and Lindus came,
Who with Camirus shar'd the Rhodian Lands;
Apart they reign'd, and sacred to his Name
Apart each Brother's Royal City stands.

XXXIX

Here a secure Retreat from all his Woes

Tlepolemus,

Astydameia's hapless Offspring found;
Here, like a God in undisturb'd Repose,
And like a God with heav'nly Honours crown'd,

XL

His Priests and blazing Altars he surveys,
And Hecatombs, that feed the od'rous Flame;
With Games, Memorial of his deathless Praise;
Where twice, Diagoras, unmatch'd in Fame,

XLI

Twice on thy Head the livid Poplar shone,
Mix'd with the darksome Pine, that binds the Brows
Of Isthmian Victors, and the Nemean Crown,
And ev'ry Palm that Attica bestows.

XLII

Diagoras th'Arcadian Vase obtain'd;
Argos to him adjudg'd her Brazen Shield;
His mighty Hands the Theban Tripod gain'd,
And bore the Prize from each Bœotian Field.

XLIII

Six Times in rough Ægina he prevail'd;
As oft Pellene's Robe of Honour won;
And still at Megara in vain assail'd,
He with his Name hath fill'd the Victor's Stone.

XLIV

O Thou, who, high on Atabyrius thron'd,
Seest from his Summits all this happy Isle,
By thy Protection be my Labours crown'd;
Vouchsase, Saturnius, on my Verse to smile!

XLV

And grant to him, whose Virtue is my Theme,
Whose valiant Heart th'Olympick Wreaths proclaim,
At Home his Country's Favour and Esteem,
Abroad, eternal, universal Fame.

XLVI

For well to thee Diagoras is known;
Ne'er to Injustice have his Paths declin'd;
Nor from his Sires degenerates the Son;
Whose Precepts and Examples fire his Mind.

XLVII

Then from Obscurity preserve a Race,
Who to their Country Joy and Glory give;
Their Country, that in them views ev'ry Grace,
Which from their great Forefathers they receive.

XLVIII

Yet as the Gales of Fortune various blow,
To-day tempestuous, and To-morrow fair,
Due Bounds, ye Rhodians, let your Transports know;
Perhaps To-morrow comes a Storm of Care.

THE ELEVENTH OLYMPICK ODE.
[_]

This Ode is inscribed to Agesidamus of Locris, who, in the Seventy fourth Olympiad, obtained the Victory in the Exercise of the Cæstus, and in the Class of Boys.

The preceding Ode in the Original is inscribed to the same Person; and in that we learn, that Pindar had for a long time promised Agesidamus an Ode upon his Victory; which he at length paid him, acknowledging himself to blame for having been so long in his Debt. To make him some amends for having delayed Payment so long, he sent him by way of Interest together with the preceding Ode, which is of some length, the short one that is here translated, and which in the Greek Title is for that reason styled τοκος or Interest.

ARGUMENT.

The Poet, by two Comparisons, with which he begins his Ode, insinuates how acceptable to successful Merit those Songs of Triumph are, which give Stability and Duration to their Fame: then declaring that these Songs are due to the Olympick Conquerors, he proceeds to celebrate the Victory of Agesidamus, and the Praises of the Locrians, his Countrymen, whom he commends for their having been always reputed a

brave, wise, and hospitable Nation; from whence he insinuates, that their Virtues being hereditary and innate, there was no more likelihood of their departing from them, than there was of the Fox and the Lion's changing their Natures.

STROPHE.

To wind-bound Mariners most welcome blow
The breezy Zephyrs thro' the whistling Shrouds:
Most welcome to the thirsty Mountains flow
Soft Show'rs, the pearly Daughters of the Clouds;
And when on virtuous Toils the Gods bestow
Success, most welcome sound mellifluous Odes,
Whose Numbers ratify the Voice of Fame,
And to illustrious Worth insure a lasting Name.

ANTISTROPHE.

Such Fame, superior to the hostile Dart
Of canker'd Envy, Pisa's Chiefs attends.
Fain would my Muse th'immortal Boon impart,
Th'immortal Boon which from high Heav'n descends.
And now inspir'd by Heav'n thy valiant Heart,
Agesidamus, she to Fame commends:
Now adds the Ornament of tuneful Praise,
And decks thy Olive-Crown with sweetly-sounding Lays.

EPODE.

But while thy bold Atchievements I rehearse,
Thy youthful Victory in Pisa's Sand,
With thee partaking in the friendly Verse
Not unregarded shall thy Locris stand.

Then haste, ye Muses, join the Choral Band
Of festive Youths upon the Locrian Plain;
To an unciviliz'd and savage Land
Think not I now invite your Virgin Train,
Where barb'rous Ignorance and foul Disdain
Of social Virtue's hospitable Lore
Prompts the unmanner'd and inhuman Swain
To drive the Stranger from his churlish Door.
A Nation shall ye find, renown'd of yore
For martial Valour and for worthy Deeds;
Rich in a vast and unexhausted Store
Of innate Wisdom, whose prolifick Seeds
Spring in each Age. So Nature's Laws require:
And the great Laws of Nature ne'er expire.
Unchang'd the Lion's valiant Race remains,
And all his Father's Wiles the youthful Fox retains.

THE TWELFTH. OLYMPICK ODE.
[_]

This Ode is inscribed to Ergoteles the Son of Philanor of Himera, who, in the Seventy seventh Olympiad, gained the Prize in the Foot-Race called Dolichos or the Long Course.

ARGUMENT.

Ergoteles was originally of Crete, but being driven from thence by the Fury of a prevailing Faction, he retired to Himera, a Town of Sicily, where he was honourably received, and admitted to the Freedom of the City; after which he had the Happiness to obtain, what the Greeks esteemed the highest Pitch of Glory, the Olympick Crown. Pausanias says he gained two Olympick Crowns; and the same Number in each of the other three Sacred Games, the Pythian, Isthmian, and Nemean. From these remarkable Vicissitudes of Fortune in the Life of Ergoteles, Pindar takes Occasion to address himself to that powerful Directress of all human Affairs, imploring her Protection for Himera, the adopted Country of Ergoteles. Then, after describing in general Terms the universal Influence of that Deity upon all the Actions of Mankind, the Uncertainty of Events, and the Vanity of Hope, ever fluctuating in Ignorance and Error, he assigns a Reason for that Vanity, viz. That the Gods have

not given to mortal Men any certain Evidence of their future Fortunes, which often happen to be the very Reverse both of their Hopes and Fears. Thus, says he, it happened to Ergoteles, whose very Misfortunes were to him the Occasion of Happiness and Glory; since, had he not been banished from his Country, he had probably passed his Life in Obscurity, and wasted in domestick Broils and Quarrels that Strength and Activity, which his more peaceful Situation at Himera enabled him to improve, and employ for the obtaining the Olympick Crown.

This Ode, one of the shortest, is, at the same time, in its Order and Connection, the clearest and most compact of any to be met with in Pindar.

STROPHE.

Daughter of Eleutherian Jove,
To thee my Supplications I prefer!
For potent Himera my Suit I move;
Protectress Fortune, hear!

Thy Deity along the pathless Main
In her wild Course the rapid Vessel guides;
Rules the fierce Conflict on th'embattled Plain,
And in deliberating States presides.

Toss'd by thy uncertain Gale
On the Seas of Error sail
Human Hopes, now mounting high
On the swelling Surge of Joy;
Now with unexpected Woe
Sinking to the Depths below.

ANTISTROPHE.

For sure Presage of Things to come
None yet on Mortals have the Gods bestow'd;
Nor of Futurity's impervious Gloom
Can Wisdom pierce the Cloud.
Oft our most sanguine Views th'Event deceives,
And veils in sudden Grief the smiling Ray:
Oft, when with Woe the mournful Bosom heaves,
Caught in a Storm of Anguish and Dismay,
Pass some fleeting Moments by,
All at once the Tempests fly:
Instant shifts the clouded Scene;
Heav'n renews its Smiles serene;
And on Joy's untroubled Tides
Smooth to Port the Vessel glides.

EPODE.

Ergoteles.

Son of Philanor! in the secret Shade
Thus had thy Speed unknown to Fame decay'd;

Thus, like the crested Bird of Mars, at home
Engag'd in foul domestick Jars,
And wasted with intestine Wars,
Inglorious hadst thou spent thy vig'rous Bloom;
Had not Sedition's Civil Broils
Expell'd thee from thy native Crete,
And driv'n thee with more glorious Toils
Th'Olympick Crown in Pisa's Plain to meet.
With Olive now, with Pythian Laurels grac'd,
And the dark Chaplets of the Isthmian Pine,
In Himera's adopted City plac'd,
To all, Ergoteles, thy Honours shine,
And raise her Lustre by imparting Thine.

THE FOURTEENTH OLYMPICK ODE. MONOSTROPHAICK.
[_]

This Ode is inscribed to Asopchius, the Son of Cleodemus of Orchomenus; who, in the Seventy sixth Olympiad, gained the Victory in the simple Foot-Race, and in the Class of Boys.

ARGUMENT.

Orchomenus, a City of Bœotia, and the Country of the Victor Asopichus, being under the Protection of the Graces, her Tutelary Deities, to them Pindar addresses this Ode; which was probably sung in the very Temple of those Goddesses, at a Sacrifice offered by Asopichus on occasion of his Victory. The Poet begins this Invocation with styling the Graces Queens of Orchomenus, and Guardians of the Children of Minyas, the first King of that City; whose fertile Territories, he says, were by Lot assigned to their Protection. Then, after describing in general the Properties and Operations of these Deities, both in Earth and Heaven, he proceeds to call upon each of them by Name to assist at the singing of this Ode; which was made, he tells them, to celebrate the Victory of Asopichus, in the Glory of which Orchomenus had her Share. Then addressing himself to Echo, a Nymph that formerly resided on the Banks of Cephisus, a River of that Country, he charges her to repair to the Mansion of Proserpine,

and impart to Cleodemus, the Father of Asopichus (who from hence appears to have been dead at that Time) the happy News of his Son's Victory, and so concludes.

STROPHE I.

Ye Pow'rs, o'er all the flow'ry Meads,
Where deep Cephisus rolls his lucid Tide,
Allotted to preside,
And haunt the Plains renown'd for beauteous Steeds,
Queens of Orchomenus the fair,
And sacred Guardians of the ancient Line
Of Minyas divine,
Hear, O ye Graces, and regard my Pray'r!
All that's sweet and pleasing here
Mortals from your Hands receive:
Splendor ye and Fame confer,
Genius, Wit, and Beauty give.
Nor, without your shining Train,
Ever on th'Ætherial Plain
In harmonious Measures move
The Celestial Choirs above;
When the figur'd Dance they lead,
Or the Nectar'd Banquet spread.

But with Thrones immortal grac'd,
And by Pythian Phœbus plac'd,
Ord'ring thro' the blest Abodes
All the splendid Works of Gods,
Sit the Sisters in a Ring,
Round the golden-shafted King:
And with reverential Love
Worshipping th'Olympian Throne,
The Majestick Brow of Jove
With unfading Honours crown.

STROPHE II.

Aglaia, graceful Virgin, hear!
And thou, Euphrosyna, whose Ear
Delighted listens to the warbled Strain!
Bright Daughters of Olympian Jove,
The Best, the Greatest Pow'r above;
With your illustrious Presence deign

To grace our Choral Song!
Whose Notes to Victory's glad Sound
In wanton Measures lightly bound.
Thalia, come along!
Come, tuneful Maid! for lo! my String
With meditated Skill prepares
In softly soothing Lydian Airs
Asopichus to sing;
Asopichus, whose Speed by thee sustain'd
The Wreath for his Orchomenus obtain'd.
Go then, sportive Echo, go
To the sable Dome below,
Proserpine's black Dome, repair,
There to Cleodemus bear
Tidings of immortal Fame:
Tell, how in the rapid Game

O'er Pisa's Vale his Son victorious fled;
Tell, for thou saw'st him bear away
The winged Honours of the Day;
And deck with Wreaths of Fame his youthful Head.

[PYTHIAN ODES]

THE FIRST PYTHIAN ODE.
[_]

This Ode is inscribed to Hiero of Ætna, King of Syracuse, who, in the Twenty ninth Pythiad (which answers to the Seventy eighth Olympiad) gained the Victory in the Chariot-Race.

ARGUMENT.

The Poet, addressing himself in the first Place to his Harp, launches out immediately into a Description of the wonderful Effects produced in Heaven by the inchanting Harmony of that divine Instrument, when played upon by Apollo, and accompanied by the Muses: These Effects, says he, are to celestial Minds Delight and Rapture, but the contrary to the Wicked, who cannot hear, without Horror, this heavenly Musick. Having mentioned the Wicked, he falls into an Account of the Punishment of Typhœus, an impious Giant; who, having presumed to defy Jupiter, was by him cast into Tartarus, and then chained under Mount Ætna, whose fiery Eruptions he ascribes to this Giant, whom he therefore styles Vulcanian Monster. The Description of these Eruptions of Mount Ætna he closes with a short Prayer to Jupiter, who had a Temple upon that Mountain, and from thence passes to, what indeed is more properly the Subject of this Ode, the Pythian Victory of Hiero. This Part of the Poem is connected

with what went before by the means of Ætna, a City built by Hiero, and named after the Mountain in whose Neighbourhood it stood. Hiero had ordered himself to be styled of Ætna by the Herald who proclaimed his Victory in the Pythian Games; from which glorious Beginning, says Pindar, the happy City presages to herself all kinds of Glory and Felicity for the future. Then addressing himself to Apollo, the Patron of the Pythian Games, he beseeches him to make the Citizens of Ætna great and happy; all human Excellencies being the Gifts of Heaven. To Hiero, in like manner, he wishes Felicity and Prosperity for the future, not to be disturbed by the Return or Remembrance of any post Afflictions. The Toils indeed and Troubles which Hiero had undergone, before he and his Brother Gelo obtained the Sovereignty of Syracuse, having been crowned with Success, will doubtless, says Pindar, recur often to his Memory with great Delight: And then taking notice of the Condition of Hiero, who, it seems, being at that Time troubled with the Stone, was carried about in the Army in a Litter, or Chariot, he compares him to Philoctetes: This Hero having been wounded in the Foot by one of Hercules's Arrows, staid in Lemnos to get cured of his Wound; but it being decreed by the Fates, that Troy should not be taken without those Arrows, of which Philoctetes had the Possession, the Greeks fetched him from Lemnos, lame and wounded as he was and carried him to the Siege. As Hiero resembled Philoctetes in one Point, may he also, adds the Poet, resemble him in another, and recover his Health by the Assistance of
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Divinity. Then addressing himself to Dinomenes, the Son of Hiero, whom that Prince intended to make King of Ætna, he enters into an Account of the Colony, which Hiero had settled in that City: The People of this Colony, being originally descended from Sparta, were, at their own Request, governed by the Laws of that famous Commonwealth. To this Account Pindar subjoins a Prayer to Jupiter, imploring him to grant that both the King and People of Ætna may, by answerable Deeds, maintain the Glory and Splendor of their Race; and that Hiero, and his Son Dinomenes, taught to govern by the Precepts of his Father, may be able to dispose their Minds to Peace and Unity. For this Purpose, continues he, do thou, O Jupiter, prevent the Carthaginians and the Tuscans from invading Sicily any more, by recalling to their Minds the great Losses they had lately sustained from the Valour of Hiero and his Brothers; into a more particular Detail of whose Courage and Virtue, Pindar insinuates he would gladly enter, was he not afraid of being too prolix and tedious; a Fault which is apt to breed in the Reader Satiety and Disgust; and though, continues he, excessive Fame produces often the same Effects in envious Minds, yet do not thou, O Hiero! upon that Consideration, omit doing any great or good Action; it being far better to be envied than to be pitied. With this, and some Precepts useful to all Kings in general, and others more peculiarly adapted to the Temper of Hiero, whom, as he was somewhat inclined to Avarice, he encourages to Acts of Generosity and Munificence, from the Consideration of the Fame accruing to Princes of that Character,
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and the Infamy redounding to Tyrants, he concludes; winding up all with observing, that the First of all human Blessings consists in being virtuous; the Second in being praised; and that he, who has the Happiness to enjoy both these at the same Time, is arrived at the highest Point of earthly Felicity.

DECADE I.

Hail, golden Lyre! whose Heav'n-invented String
To Phœbus, and the black-hair'd Nine belongs;
Who in sweet Chorus round their tuneful King
Mix with thy sounding Chords their sacred Songs.

The Dance, gay Queen of Pleasure, Thee attends;
Thy jocund Strains her list'ning Feet inspire:
And each melodious Tongue its Voice suspends
'Till Thou, great Leader of the heav'nly Quire,
With wanton Art preluding giv'st the Sign—
Swells the full Concert then with Harmony divine.

DECADE II.

Then, of their streaming Lightnings all disarm'd,
The smouldring Thunderbolts of Jove expire:
Then, by the Musick of thy Numbers charm'd,
The Birds fierce Monarch drops his vengeful Ire;
Perch'd on the Sceptre of th'Olympian King,
The thrilling Darts of Harmony he feels;
And indolently hangs his rapid Wing,
While gentle Sleep his closing Eyelid seals;

And o'er his heaving Limbs in loose Array
To ev'ry balmy Gale the ruffling Feathers play.

DECADE III.

Ev'n Mars, stern God of Violence and War,
Sooths with thy lulling Strains his furious Breast,
And driving from his Heart each bloody Care,
His pointed Lance consigns to peaceful Rest.
Nor less enraptur'd each immortal Mind
Owns the soft Influence of inchanting Song,
When, in melodious Symphony combin'd,
Thy Son, Latona, and the tuneful Throng
Of Muses, skill'd in Wisdom's deepest Lore,
The subtle Pow'rs of Verse and Harmony explore.

DECADE IV.

But they, on Earth, or the devouring Main,
Whom righteous Jove with Detestation views,
With envious Horror hear the heav'nly Strain,
Exil'd from Praise, from Virtue, and the Muse.
Such is Typhœus, impious Foe of Gods,
Whose hundred headed Form Cilicia's Cave
Once foster'd in her infamous Abodes;
'Till daring with presumptuous Arms to brave

The Might of Thund'ring Jove, subdued he fell,
Plung'd in the horrid Dungeons of profoundest Hell.

DECADE V.

Now under sulph'rous Cama's Sea-bound Coast,
And vast Sicilia lies his shaggy Breast;
By snowy Ætna, Nurse of endless Frost,
The pillar'd Prop of Heav'n, for ever press'd:
Forth from whose nitrous Caverns issuing rise
Pure liquid Fountains of tempestuous Fire,
And veil in ruddy Mists the Noon-day Skies,
While wrapt in Smoke the eddying Flames aspire,
Or gleaming thro' the Night with hideous Roar
Far o'er the red'ning Main huge rocky Fragments pour.

DECADE VI.

But he, Vulcanian Monster, to the Clouds
The fiercest, hottest Inundations throws,
While with the Burthen of incumbent Woods,
And Ætna's gloomy Cliffs o'erwhelm'd he glows.
There on his flinty Bed-out-stretch'd he lies,
Whose pointed Rock his tossing Carcase wounds:
There with Dismay he strikes beholding Eyes,
Or frights the distant Ear with horrid Sounds.
O save us from thy Wrath, Sicilian Jove!
Thou, that here reign'st, ador'd in Ætna's sacred Grove!

DECADE VII.

Ætna, fair Forehead of this fruitful Land!
Whose borrow'd Name adorns the Royal Town,
Rais'd by illustrious Hiero's gen'rous Hand,
And render'd glorious with his high Renown.
By Pythian Heralds were her Praises sung,
When Hiero triumph'd in the dusty Course,
When sweet Castalia with Applauses rung,
And glorious Laurels crown'd the conqu'ring Horse,
The happy City for her future Days
Presages hence Increase of Victory and Praise.

DECADE VIII.

Thus when the Mariners to prosp'rous Winds,
The Port forsaking, spread their swelling Sails;
The fair Departure chears their jocund Minds
With pleasing Hopes of favourable Gales,
While o'er the dang'rous Desarts of the Main,
To their lov'd Country they pursue their Way.
Ev'n so, Apollo, thou, whom Lycia's Plain,
Whom Delus, and Castalia's Springs obey,
These Hopes regard, and Ætna's Glory raise
With valiant Sons, triumphant Steeds, and heav'nly Lays!

DECADE IX.

For human Virtue from the Gods proceeds;
They the wife Mind bestow'd, and smooth'd the Tongue.
With Elocution, and for mighty Deeds
The nervous Arm with manly Vigour strung.

All these are Hiero's: these to Rival Lays
Call forth the Bard: Arise then, Muse, and speed
To this Contention; strive in Hiero's Praise,
Nor fear thy Efforts shall his Worth exceed;
Within the Lines of Truth secure to throw,
Thy Dart shall still surpass each vain attempting Foe.

DECADE X.

So may succeeding Ages, as they roll,
Great Hiero still in Wealth and Bliss maintain,
And joyous Health recalling, on his Soul
Oblivion pour of Life-consuming Pain.

Yet may thy Memory with sweet Delight
The various Dangers, and the Toils recount,
Which in intestine Wars and bloody Fight
Thy patient Virtue, Hiero, did surmount;
What Time, by Heav'n above all Grecians crown'd,
The Prize of sov'reign Sway with thee thy Brother found.

DECADE XI.

Then like the Son of Pæan didst thou war,
Smit with the Arrows of a sore Disease;
While, as along slow rolls thy sickly Carr,
Love and Amaze the haughtiest Bosoms seize.
In Lemnos pining with th'envenom'd Wound
The Son of Pæan, Philoctetes, lay:
There, after tedious Quest, the Heroes found,
And bore the limping Archer thence away;
By whom fell Priam's Tow'rs (so Fate ordain'd)
And the long harrass'd Greeks their wish'd Repose obtain'd.

DECADE XII.

May Hiero too, like Pæan's Son, receive
Recover'd Vigour from celestial Hands!
And may the Healing God proceed to give
The Pow'r to gain whate'er his Wish demands.
But now, O Muse, address thy sounding Lays
To young Dinomenes, his virtuous Heir.
Sing to Dinomenes, his Father's Praise;
His Father's Praise shall glad his filial Ear.
For him hereafter shalt thou touch the String,
And chant in friendly Strains fair Ætna's future King.

DECADE XIII.

Hiero for him th'illustrious City rear'd,
And fill'd with Sons of Greece her stately Tow'rs,
Where by the free-born Citizen rever'd
The Spartan Laws exert their virtuous Pow'rs.
For by the Statutes, which their Fathers gave,
Still must the restive Dorian Youth be led;
Who dwelling once on cold Eurotas' Wave,
Where proud Taÿgetus exalts his Head,
From the great Stock of Hercules divine
And warlike Pamphilus deriv'd their noble Line.

DECADE XIV.

These from Thessalian Pindus rushing down,
The Walls of fam'd Amyclæ once possess'd,
And rich in Fortune's Gifts and high Renown,
Dwelt near the Twins of Leda, while they press'd

Their milky Coursers, and the Pastures o'er
Of neighb'ring Argos rang'd, in Arms supreme.
To King and People on the flow'ry Shore
Of lucid Amena, Sicilian Stream,
Grant the like Fortune, Jove, with like Desert
The Splendor of their Race and Glory to assert.

DECADE XV.

And do thou aid Sicilia's hoary Lord
To form and rule his Son's obedient Mind;
And still in golden Chains of sweet Accord,
And mutual Peace the friendly People bind,
Then grant, O Son of Saturn, grant my Pray'r!
The bold Phœnician on his Shore detain;
And may the hardy Tuscan never dare
To vex with clam'rous War Sicilia's Main;

Rememb'ring Hiero, how on Cuma's Coast
Wreck'd by his stormy Arms their groaning Fleets were lost.

DECADE XVI.

What Terrors! what Destruction them assail'd!
Hurl'd from their riven Decks what Numbers dy'd!
When o'er their Might Sicilia's Chief prevail'd,
Their Youth o'er-whelming in the foamy Tide;

Greece from impending Servitude to save.
Thy Favour, glorious Athens! to acquire
Would I record the Salaminian Wave
Fam'd in thy Triumphs: and my tuneful Lyre
To Sparta's Sons with sweetest Praise should tell,
Beneath Cithæron's Shade what Medish Archers fell.

DECADE XVII.

But on fair Himera's wide-water'd Shores
Thy Sons, Dinomenes, my Lyre demand,
To grace their Virtues with the various Stores
Of sacred Verse, and sing th'illustrious Band
Of valiant Brothers, who from Carthage won
The glorious Meed of Conquest, deathless Praise.
A pleasing Theme! but Censure's dreaded Frown
Compels me to contract my spreading Lays.
In Verse Conciseness pleases ev'ry Guest,
While each impatient blames and loaths a tedious Feast.

DECADE XVIII.

Nor less distasteful is excessive Fame
To the sour Palate of the envious Mind;
Who hears with Grief his Neighbour's goodly Name,
And hates the Fortune that he ne'er shall find.
Yet in thy Virtue, Hiero, persevere!
Since to be envied is a nobler Fate
Than to be pitied: Let strict Justice steer
With equitable Hand the Helm of State,
And arm thy Tongue with Truth: O King, beware
Of ev'ry Step! a Prince can never lightly err.

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DECADE XIX.

O'er many Nations art thou set, to deal
The Goods of Fortune with impartial Hand;
And ever watchful of the publick Weal,
Unnumber'd Witnesses around thee stand.
Then would thy virtuous Ear for ever feast
On the sweet Melody of well-earn'd Fame,
In gen'rous Purposes confirm thy Breast,
Nor dread Expences that will grace thy Name;
But scorning sordid and unprincely Gain,
Spread all thy bounteous Sails, and launch into the Main.

DECADE XX.

When in the mouldring Urn the Monarch lies,
His Fame in lively Characters remains,
Or grav'd in Monumental Histories,
Or deck'd and painted in Aonian Strains.
Thus fresh, and fragrant, and immortal blooms
The Virtue, Crœsus, of thy gentle Mind.
While Fate to Infamy and Hatred dooms
Sicilia's Tyrant, Scorn of human kind;
Whose ruthless Bosom swell'd with cruel Pride,
When in his Brazen Bull the broiling Wretches dy'd.

DECADE XXI.

Him therefore nor in sweet Society
The gen'rous Youth conversing ever name;
Nor with the Harp's delightful Melody
Mingle his odious inharmonious Fame.

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The First, the greatest Bliss on Man conferr'd
Is, in the Acts of Virtue to excel;
The Second, to obtain their high Reward,
The Soul-exalting Praise of doing well.
Who both these Lots attains, is bless'd indeed,
Since Fortune here below can give no richer Meed.

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[NEMEAN ODES.]

THE FIRST NEMEAN ODE.
[_]

This Ode is inscribed to Chromius of Ætna (a City of Sicily) who gained the Victory in the Chariot-Race, in the Nemean Games.

ARGUMENT.

From the Praises of Ortygia (an Island near Sicily, and Part of the City of Syracuse, to which it was joined by a Bridge) Pindar passes to the Subject or Occasion of this Ode, viz. the Victory obtained by Chromius in the Nemean Games; which, as it was the first of that Kind gained by him, the Poet styles the Basis of his future Fame, laid by the Co-operation of the Gods, who assisted and seconded his divine Virtues; and, adds he, if Fortune continues to be favourable, he may arrive at the highest Summit of Glory: by which is meant chiefly, though not solely, the gaining more Prizes in the Great or Sacred Games (particularly the Olympick) where the Muses constantly attend to celebrate and record the Conquerors. From thence, after a short Digression to the general Praise of Sicily, he comes to an Enumeration of the particular Virtues of Chromius, viz. his Hospitality, Liberality, Prudence in Council, and Courage in War. Then returning to the Nemean Victory, be takes

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Occasion from so auspicious a Beginning, to promise Chromius a large Increase of Glory, in like manner as Tiresias, the famous Poet and Prophet of Thebes (the Country of Pindar) upon viewing the first Exploit of Hercules, which was killing in his Cradle the two Serpents sent by Juno to devour him, foretold the subsequent Atchievements of that Hero; and the great Reward he should receive for all his Labours, by being admitted into the Number of the Gods, and married to Hebe; with which Story he concludes the Ode.

STROPHE I.

Sister of Delos! pure Abode
Of Virgin Cynthia, Goddess of the Chace!
In whose Recesses rests th'emerging Flood
Of Alpheus, breathing from his am'rous Race!

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Divine Ortygia! to thy Name
The Muse preluding tunes her Strings,
Pleas'd with the sweet Preamble of thy Fame,
To usher in the Verse, that sings
Thy Triumphs, Chromius; while Sicilian Jove
Hears with Delight thro' Ætna's sounding Grove
The Gratulations of the hymning Choir,
Whom thy victorious Carr, and Nemea's Palms inspire.

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ANTISTROPHE I.

The Basis of his future Praise
Assisted by the Gods hath Chromius laid;
And to its Height the tow'ring Pile may raise,
If Fortune lends her favourable Aid:

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Assur'd that all th'Aonian Train
Their wonted Friendship will afford,
Who with Delight frequent the listed Plain,
The Toils of Virtue to record.
Mean time around this Isle, harmonious Muse!
The brightest Beams of shining Verse diffuse:
This fruitful Island, with whose flow'ry Pride
Heav'n's awful King endow'd great Pluto's beauteous Bride.

EPODE I.

Sicilia with transcendent Plenty crown'd
Jove to Proserpina consign'd;
Then with a Nod his solemn Promise bound,
Still farther to enrich her fertile Shores
With peopled Cities, stately Tow'rs,
And Sons in Arts and Arms refin'd;
Skill'd to the dreadful Works of War
The thund'ring Steed to train;
Or mounted on the whirling Carr
Olympia's all-priz'd Olive to obtain.—
Abundant is my Theme; nor need I wrong
The fair Occasion with a flatt'ring Song.

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STROPHE II.

To Chromius no unwelcome Guest
I come, high sounding my Dircæan Chord;
Who for his Poet hath prepar'd the Feast,
And spread with Luxury his friendly Board,

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For never from his gen'rous Gate
Unentertain'd the Stranger flies.
While Envy's scorching Flame, that blasts the Great,
Quench'd with his flowing Bounty, dies.
But Envy ill becomes the human Mind;
Since various Parts to various Men assign'd
All to Perfection and to Praise will lead,
Would each those Paths pursue, which Nature bids him tread.

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ANTISTROPHE II.

In Action thus Heroick Might,
In Council shines the Mind sagacious, wise,
Which to the future casts her piercing Sight,
And sees the Train of Consequences rise.
With either Talent Chromius blest
Suppresses not his active Pow'rs.
I hate the Miser, whose unsocial Breast
Locks from the World his useless Stores.
Wealth by the Bounteous only is enjoy'd,
Whose Treasures in diffusive Good employ'd
The rich Returns of Fame and Friends procure;
And 'gainst a sad Reverse, a safe Retreat insure.

EPODE II.

Thy early Virtues, Chromius, deck'd with Praise,
And these First-fruits of Fame inspire
The Muse to promise for thy future Days

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A large Increase of Merit and Renown.
So when of old Jove's mighty Son,
Worthy his great immortal Sire,
Forth from Alcmena's teeming Bed
With his Twin-Brother came,
Safe thro' Life's painful Entrance led
To view the dazzling Sun's reviving Flame,
Th'Imperial Cradle Juno quick survey'd,
Where slept the Twins in Saffron Bands array'd.

STROPHE III.

Then glowing with immortal Rage,
The Gold-enthroned Empress of the Gods
Her eager Thirst of Vengeance of assuage,
Strait to her hated Rival's curs'd Abodes
Bade her vindictive Serpents haste.
They thro' the op'ning Valves with Speed
On to the Chamber's deep Recesses past,
To perpetrate their murd'rous Deed:
And now in knotty Mazes to infold
Their destin'd Prey, on curling Spires they roll'd,
His dauntless Brow when young Alcides rear'd,
And for their first Attempt his infant Arms prepar'd.

ANTISTROPHE III.

Fast by the azure Necks he held
And grip'd in either Hand his scaly Foes;
Till from their horrid Carcasses expell'd,
At length the pois'nous Soul unwilling flows.

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Mean time intolerable Dread
Congeal'd each Female's curdling Blood,
All who attendant on the genial Bed,
Around the languid Mother stood.
She with distracting Fear and Anguish stung,
Forth from her sickly Couch impatient sprung;
Her cumb'rous Robe regardless off she threw,
And to protect her Child with fondest Ardour flew.

EPODE III.

But with her shrill, distressful Cries alarm'd
In rush'd each bold Cadmean Lord,
In Brass refulgent, as to Battle arm'd;
With them Amphitryon, whose tumultuous Breast
A Croud of various Cares infest:
High brandishing his gleaming Sword
With eager, anxious Step he came;
A Wound so near his Heart
Shook with Dismay his inmost Frame,
And rouz'd the active Sp'rits in ev'ry Part.
To our own Sorrows serious Heed we give;
But for another's Woe soon cease to grieve.

STROPHE IV.

Amaz'd the trembling Father stood,
While doubtful Pleasure, mix'd with wild Surprize,
Drove from his troubled Heart the vital Flood:
His Son's stupendous Deed with wondring Eyes

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He view'd, and how the gracious Will
Of Heav'n to Joy had chang'd his Fear
And falsify'd the Messengers of Ill.
Then strait he calls th'unerring Seer,
Divine Tiresias, whose Prophetick Tongue
Jove's sacred Mandates from the Tripod sung;
Who then to all th'attentive Throng explain'd
What Fate th'immortal Gods for Hercules ordain'd.

ANTISTROPHE IV.

What fell Despoilers of the Land
The Prophet told, what Monsters of the Main
Should feel the Vengeance of his righteous Hand:
What savage, proud, pernicious Tyrant slain
To Hercules should bow his Head,
Hurl'd from his arbitrary Throne,
Whose glitt'ring Pomp his curs'd Ambition fed,
And made indignant Nations groan.
Last, when the Giant Sons of Earth shall dare
To wage against the Gods rebellious War,
Pierc'd by his rapid Shafts on Phlegra's Plain
With Dust their radiant Locks the haughty Foe shall stain.

EPODE IV.

Then shall his gen'rous Toils for ever cease,
With Fame, with endless Life repaid;
With pure Tranquillity and heav'nly Peace:

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Then led in Triumph to his starry Dome,
To grace his spousal Bed shall come,
In Beauty's glowing Bloom array'd,
Immortal Hebe, ever young.
In Jove's august Abodes
Then shall he hear the bridal Song,
Then in the blest Society of Gods
The nuptial Banquet share, and rapt in Praise
And Wonder round the glitt'ring Mansion gaze.

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THE ELEVENTH NEMEAN ODE.
[_]

This Ode is incribed to Aristagoras, upon occasion of his entering on his Office of President or Governor of the Island of Tenedos; so that although it is placed among the Nemean Odes, it has no sort of relation to those Games, and is indeed properly an Inauguration-Ode, composed to be sung by a Chorus at the Sacrifices and the Feast made by Aristagoras and his Collegues, in the Town-Hall, at the Time of their being invested with the Magistracy, as is evident from many Expressions in the first Strophe and Antistrophe.

ARGUMENT.

Pindar opens this Ode with an Invocation to Vesta (the Goddess who presided over the Courts of Justice, and whose Statue and Altar were for that Reason placed in the Town-Halls, or Prytanæums, as the Greeks called them) beseeching her to receive favourably Aristagoras and his Collegues, who were then coming to offer Sacrifices to her, upon their entering on their Office of Prytans or Magistrates of Tenedos; which Office continuing for a Year, he begs the Goddess to take Aristagoras under her Protection during that Time; and to conduct him to the End of it without Trouble

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or Disgrace. From Aristagoras Pindar turns himself, in the next Place, to his Father Arcesilas, whom he pronounces happy, as well upon account of his Son's Merit and Honour, as upon his own great Endowments, and good Fortune; such as Beauty, Strength, Courage, Riches, and Glory resulting from his many Victories in the Games. But lest he should be too much puffed up with these Praises, he reminds him at the same Time of his Mortality, and tells him that his Cloathing of Flesh is perishable, and that he must e're long be cloathed with Earth, the End of all Things; and yet, continues he, it is but Justice to praise and celebrate the Worthy and Deserving, who from good Citizens ought to receive all kinds of Honour and Commendation; as Aristagoras, for Instance, who hath rendered both himself and his Country illustrious by the many Victories he hath obtained, to the Number of Sixteen, over the neighbouring Youth, in the Games exhibited in and about his own Country. From whence, says the Poet, I conclude he would have come off victorious even in the Pythian and Olympick Games, had he not been restrained from engaging in those famous Lists by the too timid and cautious Love of his Parents: upon which he falls into a moral Reflection upon the Vanity of Mens Hopes and Fears, by the former of which they are oftentimes excited to Attempts beyond their Strength, which accordingly issue in their Disgrace; as, on the other Hand, they are frequently restrained by unreasonable and ill-grounded Fears, from Enterprizes, in which they would, in all probability, have come off with Honour. This Reflection he applies to
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Aristagoras, by saying it was very easy to foresee what Success he was like to meet with, who both by Father and Mother was descended from a long Train of great and valiant Men. But here again, with a very artful Turn of Flattery to his Father Arcesilas, whom he had before represented as strong and valiant, and famous for his Victories in the Games, he observes that every Generation even of a great and glorious Family, is not equally illustrious, any more than the Fields and Trees are every Year equally fruitful; that the Gods had not given Mortals any certain Tokens, by which they might foreknow when the rich Years of Virtue should succeed; whence it comes to pass, that Men out of Self-conceit and Presumption, are perpetually laying Schemes, and forming Enterprizes, without previously consulting Prudence or Wisdom, whose Streams, says he, lye remote, and out of the common Road. From all which he infers, that it is better to moderate our Desires, and set bounds to our Avarice and Ambition; with which moral Precept he concludes the Ode.

STROPHE I.

Daughter of Rhea! thou, whose holy Fire
Before the awful Seat of Justice flames!
Sister of Heav'n's Almighty Sire!
Sister of Juno, who co-equal claims
With Jove to share the Empire of the Gods!
O Virgin Vesta! To thy dread Abodes,
Lo! Aristagoras directs his Pace!
Receive, and near thy sacred Scepter place

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Him, and his Collegues, who with honest Zeal
O'er Tenedos preside, and guard the Publick Weal.

ANTISTROPHE I.

And lo! with frequent Off'rings they adore
Thee, first invok'd in ev'ry solemn Pray'r!
To thee unmix'd Libations pour,
And fill with od'rous Fumes the fragrant Air.
Around in festive Songs the hymning Choir
Mix the melodious Voice and sounding Lyre.
While still, prolong'd with hospitable Love,
Are solemniz'd the Rites of Genial Jove:
Then guard him, Vesta, through his long Career,
And let him close in Joy his ministerial Year.

EPODE I.

But hail, Arcesilas! all hail
To Thee! bless'd Father of a Son so great!
Thou, whom on Fortune's highest Scale
The favourable Hand of Heav'n hath set,
Thy manly Form with Beauty hath refin'd,
And match'd that Beauty with a valiant Mind.

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Yet let not Man too much presume,
Tho' grac'd with Beauty's fairest Bloom;
Tho' for superior Strength renown'd;
Tho' with triumphal Chaplets crown'd:
Let him remember, that in Flesh array'd
Soon shall he see that mortal Vestment fade;
Till last imprison'd in the mould'ring Urn
To Earth, the End of all Things, he return.

STROPHE II.

Yet should the Worthy from the Publick Tongue
Receive their Recompence of virtuous Praise;
By ev'ry zealous Patriot sung,
And deck'd with ev'ry Flow'r of heav'nly Lays.
Such Retribution in return for Fame,
Such, Aristagoras, thy Virtues claim;
Claim from thy Country, on whose glorious Brows
The Wrestler's Chaplet still unfaded blows;
Mix'd with the great Pancratiastick Crown,
Which from the neighb'ring Youth thy early Valour won.

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ANTISTROPHE II.

And (but his timid Parents' cautious Love,
Distrusting ever his too forward Hand,
Forbade their tender Son to prove
The Toils of Pythia' or Olympia's Sand)
Now by the Gods I swear, his val'rous Might
Had 'scap'd victorious in each bloody Fight;
And from Castalia, or where dark with Shade
The Mount of Saturn rears its Olive-Head,
Great and illustrious home had he return'd;
While by his Fame eclips'd his vanquish'd Foes had mourn'd.

EPODE II.

Then his triumphal Tresses bound
With the dark Verdure of th'Olympick Grove,
With joyous Banquets had he crown'd
The great Quinquennial Festival of Jove;
And chear'd the solemn Pomp with Choral Lays,
Sweet Tribute, which the Muse to Virtue pays.
But, such is Man's prepost'rous Fate!
Now with o'er-weening Pride elate
Too far he aims his Shaft to throw,
And straining bursts his feeble Bow.

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Now pusillanimous, depress'd with Fear,
He checks his Virtue in the mid-Career;
And of his Strength distrustful coward flies
The Contest, tho' impow'r'd to gain the Prize.

STROPHE III.

But who could err in prophesying Good
Of Him, whose undegenerating Breast
Swells with a Tide of Spartan Blood,
From Sire to Sire in long Succession trac'd
Up to Pisander; who in Days of yore
From old Amyclæ to the Lesbian Shore
And Tenedos, collegu'd in high Command
With great Orestes, led th'Æolian Band?
Nor was his Mother's Race less strong and brave,
Sprung from a Stock that grew on fair Ismenus' Wave.

ANTISTROPHE III.

Tho' for long Intervals obscur'd, again
Oft-times the Seeds of lineal Worth appear.
For neither can the furrow'd Plain
Full Harvests yield with each returning Year:
Nor in each Period, will the pregnant Bloom
Invest the smiling Tree with rich Perfume.
So, barren often and inglorious pass
The Generations of a noble Race;

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While Nature's Vigour, working at the Root,
In After-ages swells, and blossoms into Fruit.

EPODE III.

Nor hath Jove giv'n us to foreknow
When the rich Years of Virtue shall succeed;
Yet bold and daring on we go,
Contriving Schemes of many a mighty Deed.
While Hope, fond Inmate of the human Mind,
And Self-Opinion, active, rash, and blind,
Hold up a false illusive Ray,
That leads our dazzled Feet astray
Far from the Springs, where calm and slow
The secret Streams of Wisdom flow.
Hence should we learn our Ardour to restrain:
And limit to due Bounds the Thirst of Gain.
To Rage and Madness oft that Passion turns,
Which with forbidden Flames despairing burns.

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[ISTHMIAN ODES]

THE SECOND ISTHMIAN ODE.
[_]

This Ode was written upon occasion of a Victory obtained in the Chariot-Race by Xenocrates of Agrigentum in the Isthmian Games; it is however addressed not to Xenocrates himself, but to his Son Thrasybulus; from whence, and from Pindar's always speaking of Xenocrates in the Perfect Tense, it is most probable it was written after the Death of Xenocrates; and for this Reason it has by some been reckoned among the θρηνοι or Elegies of Pindar.

ARGUMENT.

The Introduction contains a Sort of an Apology for a Poet's taking Money for his Compositions; a thing, says Pindar, not practised formerly by the Servants of the Muses, who drew their Inspiration from Love alone, and wrote only from the Heart: but as the World is grown interested, so are the Poets become mercenary, observing the Truth of that famous Saying of Aristodemus the Spartan, Money makes the Man: a Truth, he says, which he himself experienced, having with his Riches lost all his Friends; and of this Truth, continues Pindar, you, Thrasybulus, are not ignorant, for you are a wise Man: I shall therefore say no more

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about it, but proceed to celebrate the Victories of Xenocrates: after an Enumeration of which he passes on to the mention of the Virtues of Xenocrates, whom he praises for his Benevolence, his Publick Spirit, his Devotion to the Gods, and his constant uninterrupted Course of Hospitality in all Changes of Fortune. These Virtues of his Father he encourages Thrasybulus not to conceal, through the Fear of exciting the Envy of Mankind, and bids Nicasippus (by whom this Ode was sent to Thrasybulus) to tell him to publish it; concluding with observing, that a Poem is not made to continue always like a mute and motionless Statue in one Place.

STROPHE I.

They, Thrasybulus, who in ancient Days
Triumphant mounted in the Muses' Carr,
Tuning their Harps to soft and tender Lays,
Aim'd their sweet Numbers at the Young and Fair:
Whose Beauties, ripe for Love, with rapt'rous Fires
Their wanton Hearts inflam'd and waken'd strong Desires.

ANTISTROPHE I.

As yet the Muse, despising sordid Gain,
Strung not for Gold her mercenary Lyre:
Nor did Terpsichore adorn her Strain
In gilded Courtesy and gay Attire,
With fair Appearances to move the Heart,
And recommend to Sale her prostituted Art.

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EPODE I.

But now she suffers all her tuneful Train
Far other Principles to hold;
And with the Spartan Sage maintain,
That Man is worthless without Gold.

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This Truth himself by sad Experience prov'd,
Deserted in his Need by those he lov'd.

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Nor to thy Wisdom is this Truth unknown,
No longer therefore shall the Muse delay
To sing the rapid Steeds, and Isthmian Crown,
Which the great Monarch of the briny Flood
On lov'd Xenocrates bestow'd,
His gen'rous Cares with Honour to repay.

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STROPHE II.

Him too, his Agrigentum's brightest Star,
Latona's Son with favourable Eyes
At Crisa view'd, and bless'd his conqu'ring Carr;
Nor, when, contending for the noble Prize,
Nicomachus, on Athens' craggy Plain,
With dextrous Art controll'd the Chariot-steering Rein.

ANTISTROPHE II.

Did Phœbus blame the Driver's skilful Hand;
But with Athenian Palms his Master grac'd:
His Master, greeted in th'Olympick Sand;
And evermore with grateful Zeal embrac'd

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By the great Priests, whose Herald Voice proclaims
Th'Elean Feasts of Jove, and Pisa's sacred Games.

EPODE II.

Him, on the Golden Lap of Victory
Reclining his illustrious Head,
They hail'd with sweetest Melody;
And through the Land his Glory spread,
Thro' the fam'd Altis of Olympick Jove;
Where in the Honours of the sacred Grove
The Children of Ænesidamus shar'd;
For not unknown to Victory and Praise
Oft, Thrasybulus, hath thy Mansion heard
The pleasing Concerts of the youthful Choir,
Attemper'd to the warbling Lyre,
And the sweet Mixture of triumphal Lays.

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STROPHE III.

In smooth and flow'ry Paths th'Encomiast treads,
When to the Mansions of the Good and Great
In Pomp the Nymphs of Helicon he leads:
Yet thee, Xenocrates, to celebrate,
Thy all-surpassing Gentleness to sing
In equal Strains, requires an all-surpassing String.

ANTISTROPHE III.

To all benevolent, rever'd, belov'd,
In ev'ry social Virtue he excell'd;
And with his conqu'ring Steeds at Corinth prov'd;
How sacred the Decrees of Greece he held;
With equal Zeal th'Immortals he ador'd,
And spread with frequent Feasts his consecrated Board.

EPODE III.

Nor did he e'er when rose a stormy Gale
Relax his hospitable Course,
Or gather in his swelling Sail:
But finding ever some Resource

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The fierce Extremes of Fortune to allay,
Held on with equal Pace his constant Way.
Permit not then thro' Dread of envious Tongues,
Thy Father's Worth to be in Silence lost;
Nor from the Publick keep these choral Songs.
Not in one Corner is the Poet's Strain
Form'd, like a Statue, to remain,
This, Nicasippus, tell my honour'd Host.

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The Fourth Ode of the Fourth Book of HORACE.

Qualem ministrum fulminis alitem, &c. Written at Oxford MDCCXXV.

[_]

This Ode, one of the most Pindarick in Horace, was written at the Command of Augustus, to celebrate the Victory of his Son-in-law Drusus over the Rhæti Vindelici, a Nation at the Foot of the Alps, between the Leck and the Inn. After two noble Comparisons, extremely in the Manner of Pindar, the Poet introduces a Compliment to Augustus, under whose Tuition Drusus and his Brother Tiberius were bred; and then takes occasion (as the Greek Poet generally does) to make an Encomium upon the Country and Family of his Hero; particularly upon that of Claudius Nero who conquered Asdrubal on the Banks of the River Metaurus; the Praise of which Action, together with that of the whole Roman People, he much enlivens and raises, by putting it into the Mouth of Hannibal, whom he introduces complaining of his Brother's Defeat and Death. This artful Panegyrick is a beautiful

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Instance of the Judgment of Horace, who was in that Quality superior to Pindar; though in Sublimity and Fire of Genius he was perhaps inferior to him, as he modestly confesses himself.

I

As the wing'd Minister of Thund'ring Jove,
To whom he gave his dreadful Bolts to bear,
Faithfull Assistant of his Master's Love,
King of the wand'ring Nations of the Air,

II

When balmy Breezes fan'd the vernal Sky,
On doubtful Pinions left his Parent Nest,
In slight Essays his growing Force to try,
While inborn Courage fir'd his gen'rous Breast:

III

Then darting with impetuous Fury down,
The Flocks he slaughter'd, an unpractis'd Foe;
Now his ripe Valour to Perfection grown
The scaly Snake and crested Dragon know:

IV

Or, as a Lyon's youthful Progeny,
Wean'd from his savage Dam and milky Food,
The grazing Kid beholds with fearful Eye,
Doom'd first to stain his tender Fangs in Blood:

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V

Such Drusus, young in Arms, his Foes beheld,
The Alpine Rhæti, long unmatch'd in Fight;
So were their Hearts with abject Terror quell'd;
So sunk their haughty Spirit at the Sight.

VI

Tam'd by a Boy, the fierce Barbarians find
How guardian Prudence guides the youthfull Flame,
And how Great Cæsar's fond paternal Mind
Each gen'rous Nero forms to early Fame!

VII

A valiant Son springs from a valiant Sire:
Their Race by Mettle sprightly Coursers prove;
Nor can the warlike Eagle's active Fire
Degenerate to form the tim'rous Dove.

VIII

But Education can the Genius raise,
And wise Instructions native Virtue aid;
Nobility without them is Disgrace,
And Honour is by Vice to Shame betray'd.

IX

Let red Metaurus stain'd with Punick Blood,
Let mighty Asdrubal subdu'd confess
How much of Empire and of Fame is ow'd
By thee, O Rome, to the Neronian Race.

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X

Of this be Witness that auspicious Day,
Which, after a long, black, tempestuous Night,
First smil'd on Latium with a milder Ray,
And chear'd our drooping Hearts with dawning Light;

XI

Since the dire African with wasteful Ire
Rode o'er the ravag'd Towns of Italy,
As through the Pine Trees flies the raging Fire,
Or Eurus o'er the vext Sicilian Sea.

XII

From this bright Æra, from this prosp'rous Field
The Roman Glory dates her rising Pow'r;
From hence 'twas giv'n her conqu'ring Sword to wield,
Raise her fall'n Gods, and ruin'd Shrines restore.

XIII

Thus Hannibal at length despairing spoke:
“Like Stags to rav'nous Wolves an easy Prey,
“Our feeble Arms a valiant Foe provoke,
“Whom to elude and 'scape were Victory;

XIV

“A dauntless Nation, that from Trojan Fires,
“Hostile Ausonia, to thy destin'd Shore
“Her Gods, her infant Sons, and aged Sires
“Thro' angry Seas and adverse Tempests bore.

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XV

“As on high Algidus the sturdy Oak,
“Whose spreading Boughs the Axe's Sharpness feel,
“Improves by Loss, and thriving with the Stroke,
“Draws Health and Vigour from the wounding Steel.

XVI

“Not Hydra sprouting from her mangled Head
“So tir'd the baffled Force of Hercules,
“Nor Thebes, nor Colchis such a Monster bred,
“Pregnant of Ills, and fam'd for Prodigies.

XVII

“Plunge her in Ocean, like the Morning Sun,
“Brighter she rises from the Depths below:
“To Earth with unavailing Ruin thrown,
“Recruits her Strength, and foils the wond'ring Foe.

XVIII

“Ah! now no more my haughty Messenger
“Shall bear the joyfull Tale of Victory:
“Lost, lost is all our long Renown in War!
“With Asdrubal our Hopes and Fortune die!

XIX

“What shall the Claudian Valour not perform,
“Which Pow'r Divine guards with propitious Care,
“Which Wisdom steers through all the dang'rous Storm,
“Thro' all the Rocks and Shoals of doubtfull War?

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Iphigenia in Tauris.

A TRAGEDY.

[_]

Translated from the Greek of EURIPIDES.

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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

IPHIGENIA.
ORESTES.
PYLADES.
Chorus of Grecian Women-Slaves attending Iphigenia.
Shepherd.
THOAS, King of Taurick Scythia.
Messenger.
MINERVA.

[_]

Iphigenia prologuizes.

SCENE lies on the Sea-Shore near the Temple of Diana, which, as appears from several Passages in this Play, stood upon the Straits, which lie between the Palus Mæotis and the Euxine Sea, not far from two Rocks called the Symplegades, i. e. the clashing Rocks, from their seeming to those who sail along these Straits, according to the different Positions they are in, to clash and meet together, and then to open, and separate.

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ACT I.

SCENE I.

Enter Iphigenia.
Iph.
From Pelops, who in Pisa's dusty Course
Won the fair Daughter of Oenomaüs,
Sprang Atreus, Father of two noble Sons,
Great Menelas, and greater Agamemnon;

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Of whom and Spartan Clytæmnestra born
Come I, the wretched Iphigenia:
I, whom my cruel Father, on that Coast,
Where the Euripus, vex'd by frequent Storms,

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With restless Tumult rolls his curling Wave,
To chaste, Diana meant to offer up,
A spotless Sacrifice in Helen's Cause.
For by his Orders join'd, in Aulis' Bay

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The Fleet of Greece, a Thousand Vessels, rode;
Impatient all to seize the Spoil of Troy,
The glorious Prize of War and Victory;
Impatient to avenge the foul Affront
Done to the Bed of Helen, and to shew
The gen'ral Love to injur'd Menelas.
But in the Harbour lock'd by adverse Winds,
Their Leader Agamemnon of the Gods
By Augury and Sacrifice inquir'd,
And by the Prophets, Heav'n's Interpreters;
When Calchas, the wise Seer, this Answer gave:
“Commander of th'united Arms of Greece,
“Ne'er shall thy Fate-bound Navy quit this Shore,
“Till Iphigenia, thy fair Daughter, bleed,
“An Off'ring to Diana: By a Vow
“Thou stand'st of old engag'd to sacrifice
“The fairest Produce of the Year to her,
“Whose Radiance chears the Night; and that same Year
“Did Clytæmnestra bring this Daughter forth,
“Who (for on me the rev'rend Seer bestow'd
“The Prize of Fairest) must be now the Victim.”

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Then by the Artifice of sly Ulysses,
And under the Pretence of a feign'd Marriage
With young Achilles, was I brought to Aulis;
Inveigled from my Mother, and there laid
High on the Altar; and to ev'ry Eye
There did I seem to bleed; but chaste Diana
Stole me away unseen, and in my Stead
A fitter Victim gave, a sacred Hind:
Thence thro' the lucid Fields of Air convey'd,
She plac'd me here in Scythia, in whose Soil
O'er barb'rous Nations reigns a barb'rous King,
For winged Swiftness fam'd, and Thoas call'd.
Here hath the Goddess, in this sacred Fane,
Appointed me her Priestess, here to serve;
Where a detested Custom, sanctify'd
Under the specious Name of Sacrifice,
Too long hath been observ'd.—I say no more,
For dreadfull is thy Deity, Diana!
Yet thus much may I tell—Whatever Greek
(For so the ancient Statutes of the Realm
Ordain) here chanceth to arrive, forthwith
I lead him to the Altar, and begin
The solemn Sacrifice; the murd'rous Part
I leave to others, who retir'd within,
Deep in the Sanctuary's close Recess,
Perform the Rites, that may not be divulg'd.
Yet sure the Vision which last Night disturb'd
My troubled Spirit, to the empty Air

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May without Blame be publish'd; and to tell it,
Tho' to the empty Air, may sooth my Grief.
Methought, that having chang'd this barb'rous Land
For my dear native Argos, there once more
I dwelt and slept amid my Virgin Train;
When, lo! a sudden Earthquake shook the Ground;
I from the tott'ring Chamber frighted fled,
And where I stood aloof, methought, beheld
The Battlements disjointed, and the Roof
From its aërial Height come tumbling down.
One only Pillar, as it seem'd, remain'd
Of all my Father's House; whose Capital
Was with dishevel'd golden Tresses hung,
And, stranger yet, with human Speech endow'd.
This Pillar, reverently acting then
The Duties of the Function here enjoin'd me,
I purify'd with Water, as ordain'd
For Sacrifice, and as I wash'd, I wept.
This was my Vision; which, I fear, portends
Thy Death, Orestes, whom in Emblem thus
I wash'd and purify'd for Sacrifice;
For Sons are Pillars of a Family;
And whomsoe'er I wash is doom'd to bleed.
Nor can this Vision to my Friends belong.
For when I perish'd on the Shore of Aulis
Old Strophius had no Son: therefore to thee,

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Belov'd Orestes, will I pay the Rites
Due to the Dead, tho' absent—With my Train
Of Grecian Women, which King Thoas gave
Here to attend me, these may I perform.
But what unusual Cause with-holds their Presence
Now in the Temple, go I to inquire.

Exit Iphi.

SCENE II.

Enter Orestes and Pylades.
Ores.
Be wary, and take heed the Coast be clear.

Py.
My watchful Eyes are turn'd on ev'ry Side.

Ores.
What think'st thou, Pylades? is this the Temple
Which we from Argos steer'd our Course to find?

Py.
To me, and sure to thee, it seems no other.

Ores.
And this the Altar wet with Grecian Gore?

Py.
Behold the Top all crimson'd o'er with Blood!

Ores.
And see! those horrid Trophies! which in Air
Grin ghastly from the Temple's awful Dome!

Py.
These are the Spoils of slaughter'd Wanderers.

Ores.
Then to be circumspect imports us much.
Oh! Phœbus, wherefore hath thy Voice divine
Thus far engag'd me in this deadly Snare?
E'er since in Vengeance of my Father's Death
I slew my Mother, by the Furies driv'n,

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Successively from Place to Place I flew,
A restless wretched Exile; ranging far
In painful Wandrings from my native Home;
Till coming to thy Shrine, of thee I sought,
How I might best restrain the whirling Rage
That drove me madding thro' out Greece? where find
A happy Respite from my ceaseless Toils?
Then didst thou bid me to the Taurick Shore
Direct my Voyage, to thy Sister's Shrine,
And bear the Statue of the Goddess thence,
Which, as those People tell, came down from Heav'n.
This, whether gain'd by Stratagem, or Force,
Or Fortune, in contempt of ev'ry Danger,
Thou to th'Athenians badest me convey;
Then (for no farther Task didst thou impose)
Peace didst thou promise me, and Rest from Woe.
Here therefore, in obedience to thy Word,
To an unknown, unhospitable Shore
I come—But, Pylades, thy Counsel now
Must I demand, since Friendship hath engag'd
Thee also to partake, and aid my Toil.
Say, how shall we proceed? Thou seest the Height
Of yon surrounding Tow'rs; departing hence
Shall we adventure by the winding Steps
To clime the Dome? but who shall be our Guide?
Or thro' the brazen Gates shou'd we resolve
To force our Passage; know we more of these?

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And if in either Act we be surpriz'd,
Thou know'st we perish.—Rather let us fly
Back to the Vessel, which convey'd us hither.

Py.
Fly! no! we cannot, must not fly, Orestes;
We are not wont to fly; nor ought we sure
Thus to contemn the Oracles of Heav'n.
Yet from the Temple let us now depart,
And in the cavern'd Rocks, whose craggy Feet
The wild Wave washes, from our Vessels far
Ourselves conceal, lest any one perchance
The Bark descrying, shou'd inform the King,
And to superior Force we fall a Prey.
But when the dim and black-ey'd Night appears,
Then let us call our Courage to our Aid,
Try all the Arts and wily Pow'rs of Wisdom
To bear the polish'd Goddess from her Shrine.
May we not, think'st thou, thro' yon Aperture
That parts those sculptur'd Triglyphs, find the means
To let our Bodies down? “The brave defy
“And conquer Toil and Danger; while the Coward,
“Distrusting the Success, makes no attempt;
“Meanly content to do and to be nothing.

Ores.
Are we indeed, thro' such a Tract of Sea,
Come to the End perhaps of all our Toil,
Now baffled to return and deedless home?
Nay, Pylades, for well hast thou advis'd,
Let us obey the Gods—Depart we now;

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And till the Night in some close Cavern hide.
“The Deity can never be in fault.
“Tho' his own Oracles unfaithfull prove.
“'Tis ours to labour, to attempt, to dare:
“Danger and Difficulty to the Young
“Are but a poor Excuse for doing nothing.”

Exeunt Orest. and Pyla.

SCENE III.

Enter Iphigenia.
Iph.
Inhabitants of Scythia, ye who dwell
Where between justling Rocks the Euxine foams,
And see him often close his craggy Jaws
On the forlorn and wandring Mariners;
Peace! nor disturb me with unhallow'd Sounds!
Mountain-Goddess of the Chace,
Sprung of Jove's divine Embrace,
Lo! with chaste unspotted Feet
I approach thy hallow'd Seat;
And with reverential Dread
To thy glitt'ring Temple tread;
To thy Dome, with Gold emblaz'd,
High on stately Columns rais'd!
There serve I, from all I lov'd
Far, alas! how far remov'd!

155

Far from Greece, my native Soil,
Fam'd for ev'ry warlike Toil;
Greece, for Steeds and Men renown'd,
Greece, with Tow'ry Cities crown'd.
Far from those Elysian Plains,
Where eternal Verdure reigns;
Where thro' high embow'ring Woods
Roll Eurota's chilling Floods;
Where deny'd to my sad Eyes
Agamemnon's Mansions rise.

Enter Chorus.
Cho.
Lo! here we come, obedient to thy Summons.
But say, what Tidings; whence this Brow of Care;
And wherefore hast thou call'd us to the Temple?
Say, princely Virgin, Daughter of that King,
Who in a thousand Vessels o'er the Main
Led the embattled Greeks to Ilion's Walls?

Iph.
Oh! Virgins, on a melancholy Strain
Is my sad Soul employ'd, a mournfull Dirge
Unmusical and harsh, alas! alas!
What bitter Sorrows from domestick Evils
Are fall'n upon me! while I mourn
A Brother's Death, to me declar'd
By the dire Vision, which last Night
In Dreams dismay'd my Soul!—
Alas! my Desolation is complete!
Fall'n is my Father's wretched Progeny,

156

And the whole Race is now now no more!—
What Miseries have they in Argos seen!—
Oh Fate! I had but one, one darling Brother,
And thou hast torn him from me, and has sent,
Untimely sent him to the Grave;
Him, for whose Manes I prepare
These mournfull Obsequies; and on the Ground
With all due Rites the mix'd Libation pour,
Blood, Water, Milk from Mountain Heifers drawn,
The Bee's sweet Tribute, and the Vine's rich Juice,
An Off'ring ever gratefull to the Dead.
Then hither bring the consecrated Bowl,
The Vase to Pluto sacred and to Death. [She takes the Bowl from the Chorus and pours out the Libation.]

“Offspring of Agamemnon, this to thee,
“Now wand'ring in the Shades below, I pour;
“And oh! accept the Boon! for on thy Grave
“Ne'er shall I offer up my Grief-shorn Locks,
“Nor wet thy Ashes with my streaming Tears.
“For far from that dear Land, that gave thee Birth
“Dwells thy sad Sister, in the borrow'd Form
“Of a young Hind there deem'd to have been slain.

Cho.
In Notes responsive to thy mournfull Strain,
In barbarous Asiatick Dialects,
To thee our royal Priestess will we sing
A solemn Service for the Dead,

157

A melancholy Dirge;
As solemn and as sad
As Pluto's joyless Songs compos'd for Woe.

Iph.
O princely Race of Atreus! now, where now
Is fled the Lustre of the Regal Crown?
My Father's Line, alas! is now extinct;
And who of all those potent Kings remains
Now to command in Argos?—Grief on Grief
Springs fresh each Morn with the revolving Sun;
Who from the Spectacle of our sad Woes
Once turn'd his lucid Eye, and fled away.
What a black Tide of Anguish, and Distress,
And Murder hath o'erwhelm'd our wretched House?
All from that fatal Source of Strife deriv'd,
The Golden Ram, whose rich Possession gave
A Title to the Crown. And how hath Heav'n
Aveng'd those Murders since on all our Race!
And me, even now with Woes unmerited,
Doth some malignant Dæmon still pursue,
That inauspicious Dæmon, who presided
At Clytæmnestra's Marriage; from which Hour,
Even from the luckless Moment of my Birth
The Destinies decreed Affliction to me;

158

And to Affliction did my Mother breed
And train me up, the first-born of her Bed,
To expiate with my Blood my Father's Guilt:
A Sacrifice unpleasing to the Gods.—
With what Congratulations, with what Vows,
On the gay Chariot was I plac'd,
And to the Sands of Aulis led,
To be the Bride—alas! disastrous Bride
Of the young Son of Thetis, great Achilles!—
But now on this inhospitable Shore
I dwell, in these unlovely Habitations
A helpless Stranger, without Husband, Child,
Or Country, or Relation, or a Friend.
I who was once in Marriage sought
By ev'ry noble Greek, no more
Shall henceforth join the Virgin Choir,
And Songs to Juno's Praise in Argos sing:
No more in the historick Loom
The Figure of Athenian Pallas trace,
And paint her Triumphs o'er the Giant-Race.
But here am doom'd to stain with Gore
The ruthless Altar, and to hear
The lamentable Groans, and thrilling Shrieks
Of bleeding Strangers, who for Pity plead,
And move my Bosom with imploring Tears.—
But I remember now these Woes no more;
And thou, Orestes, thou art all my Grief:
Thee I lament, and mourn thee dead;—

159

Thee, whom I left yet sucking at the Breast,
A tender Sapling in thy Mother's Arms,
And clinging to her Neck; thee, thee, Orestes,
The Prince of Argos, and in Hopes her King.

The End of the First Act.

160

ACT II.

Iphigenia, Chorus.
Cho.
From the Sea Shore, lo! hitherward in haste
A Shepherd comes, with some strange Tidings fraught.

Enter Shepherd.
Sh.
Daughter of Clytæmnestra and Atrides,
List with Attention to my wond'rous Tale!

Iph.
What fearfull Narrative hast thou to utter?

Sh.
O Princess, to this Coast are just arriv'd,
Fled from their Country doubtless, two fair Youths;
An acceptable Off'ring to our Goddess,
The great Diana! therefore haste, prepare
The Lavers, and th'initiating Rites,
To cleanse and sanctify them for the Altar.

Iph.
Whence are they? Of what Nation are they styl'd?

Sh.
Græcians they are; but farther know I not.

Iph.
Canst thou report what Names these Strangers bore?

Sh.
The one, I think, call'd th'other Pylades.

Iph.
And his Companion, know ye not his Name?

Sh.
That none of us can tell; we heard not that.

Iph.
How chanc'd ye to descry? where seiz'd ye them?

Sh.
We found them on the Euxine's craggy Shore.

Iph.
What Errand call'd you Shepherds to the Shore?

161

Sh.
We went to wash our Cattle in the Sea.

Iph.
Then to my former Question I return,
How? in what Manner did you take them? say:
I long to be inform'd—They come full late,
These ling'ring Strangers: Not this many a Day
Hath Cynthia's Altar blush'd with Græcian Gore.

Sh.
When by that narrow Strait our Flocks were pass'd,
Where jutting Rocks confine the struggling Floods,
We came to certain Caverns, hollow made
By the perpetual Dashing of the Waves,
Where they, who gather Scarlet, wont to house:
There one of our Companions chanc'd to spy
These two fair Youths, and starting soft return'd,
On Tip-toe lightly steering back his Course;
And look (he cried) see there! what Gods are those,
That sit in yonder Rock? Another straight,
The pious one amongst us, rais'd his Hands,
And thus in Pray'r ador'd them: Mighty Lord!
Son of Leucothea, Goddess of the Main,
Who savest the frail Bark from Rocks and Shelves,
Divine Palæmon, be propitious to us!
Or hear ye rather, Jove and Leda's Twins!
Or of the Race of Nereus, the great Sire
Of fifty Daughters, who the Choir compose
Of chanting Nereids! At this solemn Pray'r
Another of our Band, presumptuous, vain,
And lawless, into sudden Laughter brake,
And said, they were two Ship-wreck'd Mariners,

162

Who, conscious of the Law that here consigns
The Stranger to the Altar, in that Rock
Had sought to hide for Fear. And he indeed
To most appearing to conjecture right,
We instantly decreed to hunt them down,
As Victims due by Custom to our Goddess.
When one of them, straight rushing from the Cave,
Stood, and with frantick Action to and fro
Toss'd his loose Head, and groan'd, and shook, and quak'd
Ev'n to his utmost Nerve, as one distraught
With Madness; roaring then with Voice as loud
As Hunters in the Chace, See, Pylades,
See her (he cried) there: dost thou see her there?
That Viper, that foul Fiend of Hell: See now,
Arm'd with a thousand Snakes, and grinning fierce,
How she wou'd murder me: Another too,
Rob'd all in Flames of Fire, and breathing Death,
Comes sailing on the Wing; and in her Arms
She bears my Mother, who in Vengeance threats
To over-whelm me with these flinty Rocks!
And now she slays me. Whither shall I fly?
Then wou'd he change his Gestures and his Voice,
And mimick the dire Notes of howling Dogs,
And Bulls fierce-roaring; Sounds, which as they say,
The Furies selves are wont to imitate.
Mean while, shrunk up and almost dead with Fear,
Silent we sat; when spying suddenly
Our Droves of Cattle, his sharp Sword he drew,

163

And like a Lion leap'd amidst the Herd
And stabb'd and wounded some on ev'ry Side,
Misdeeming that he with the Furies fought:
So that the frothy Wave was ting'd with Blood.
But, when amongst our Cattle we beheld
This murd'rous Havock made, to Arms we ran,
And blew our Horns, and rais'd the Country round;
Well weening that poor silly Shepherd Swains
Were not a Match for those brave warlike Youths.
A mighty Number soon was gather'd to us:
And now the Stranger all at once fell calm,
And ceas'd his frantick Motions; from his Chin
Distill'd the milky foam: This fair Occasion
We saw, we seiz'd, and emulously show'r'd
A flinty Volley on the distant Foe.
While th'other Youth from his Companion's Lip
Wip'd off the Foam, and marking, as they flew,
Each rocky Fragment, with his shelt'ring Robe
Protected him from Wrong; with friendly Care
Performing all the Offices of Love.
But he, up-starting from his deadly Trance,
And all his Sense recov'ring, when he saw
The Storm that thicken'd round him, and perceiv'd
Destruction was approaching, deeply sigh'd;
While we still urging them on ev'ry Side
Without Remission ply'd our missive War.
Then did we hear this dreadfull Exhortation:

164

Oh! Pylades, we die! but let us die
Most glorious; draw thy Sword, and follow me.
But when we saw them shake their flashing Blades
Quick to the Woods and Cliffs in Crouds we fled;
Yet fled not all, for happ'ly some remain'd,
Who still maintain'd the Fight, but soon repuls'd
They likewise fled, and left the Foe in quiet.
Indeed it seems almost to pass Belief,
That of such Myriads none should be so bold,
Or so successfull, as to seize these Victims.
Nor was it by our Valour, that at length
We did prevail; for having girt them round
With a vast Circle, and with flinty Show'rs
On ev'ry Part assailing, from their Hands
Their shining Blades we beat: while on the Ground
Themselves, with Labour over-toil'd, they cast.
So seizing, to the King we led them bound;
Who having view'd them well, now sends them here,
By thee to be prepar'd for Sacrifice.
And ever shou'd'st thou pray, O royal Maid!
For Victims such as these; then soon wou'd Greece,
(If many more such Victims she afford)
Repent her Cruelty to thee, and pay
Full dearly for thy Sacrifice at Aulis.

Cho.
Thou tellest Wonders of this Stranger Greek,
Whoe'er he be, that from his native Land
Is come to this unhospitable Shore.

165

Iph.
'Tis well; go thou and bring the Strangers hither;
What here is to be done, shall be my Care. Exit Shep.

Oh! wretched Heart, thou wert accustom'd once
To Strangers to be mild and pitifull,
And for thy Country's Sake bestow a Tear,
When a poor luckless Greek was brought unto thee.
But ever since the Dream, by which I know
That dear Orestes views this Light no more,
I am grown fierce and savage, and henceforth
Such will ye find me, miserable Strangers!
For I myself, O Friends, am miserable.
“And true it is, the unsuccessfull Man
“Ever maligns and hates the fortunate.”
Oh! that no Heav'n-sent Gale, no wand'ring Bark,
Which thro' these dread Cyanean Rocks hath pass'd,
E'er hath brought Helen here, or Menelas,
For whom I was undone, that here I might
Repay them all their Cruelties and Wrongs,
And make them find another Aulis here,
In Recompence for that, where once the Greeks
Their murd'rous Hands laid on me, and in Pomp,
Like a young Heifer, led me to the Altar,
Where my unnat'ral Father was the Priest!
Alas! I cannot but remember this:
How often to my Father's Beard reach'd I
My supplicating Hand! how oft embrac'd

166

His Knee, and tried to sooth him with these Words:
“My Father! shamefull Nuptials hast thou here
“Prepar'd for thy sad Daughter; while my Mother,
“Gay Clytæmnestra, and the jocund Choir
“Of Argive Virgins, understanding not
“Thy murd'rous Purpose, Hymeneals sing,
“And merry Musick thro' thy Palace sounds:
“Mean while I perish, perish by thy Hands!
“And Pluto, not the lovely Son of Peleus,
“Pluto's th'Achilles, and the Spouse you meant,
“When in the glitt'ring Carr, by Fraud seduc'd,
“You fetch'd me hither to these bloody Nuptials.
'Twas on that Day, when spying thro' my Veil
This Brother, whose sad Fate I now lament,
I took him in my Arms, but did not press,
Thro' Virgin Modesty, his Lips to mine,
Then going, as I thought, to Peleus' House;
And many kind Caresses I deferr'd,
As one, who back to Argos shou'd return.—
Oh! Wretch Orestes, if thou'rt dead indeed,
These Evils, and thy Father's Crimes have kill'd thee.—
“Mean time I cannot but condemn the false
“And partial Reas'ning of our Goddess here:
“Who from her Altars chases as unclean,
“Those who with Murder have themselves defil'd,
“Or touch'd a lifeless Carcase, yet herself
“Delights in Blood and human Sacrifice.

167

“It cannot be, that such Absurdity
“Shou'd from Saturnius and Latona spring.
“Nor can I Credit yield to those vain Legends,
“That tell, how at the Board of Tantalus
“The glutton Gods once feasted on his Son.”
Much rather ought it sure to be presum'd,
That these wild Nations, pleas'd with human Blood,
Wou'd their own Vices on their Goddess charge;
For to the Gods no Evil can belong,

Cho.

STROPHE I.

Ye rushing Floods, thro' which the Wife of Jove
Her madding Rival forc'd of yore,
When thro' the World from Argos doom'd to rove,
She pass'd to Asia from Europa's Shore,
Know ye whence these Strangers are?
Came they from that Region fair,

168

Where Eurotas, crown'd with Reeds,
Wantons thro' the flow'ry Meads?
Or from Dirce's sacred Shore?
Thither to return no more!
To an unsocial Nation are they come,
Where Superstition taints the hallow'd Dome;
And bids the Priestess to her Goddess pour
Unbless'd Libations, Floods of human Gore

ANTISTROPHE I.

Relying on the Winds uncertain Gale,
Or tugging the tough Oar with Pain,
Thus o'er the trackless Ocean do they sail,
Wealth by precarious Traffick to obtain?
Hope, thou Bane of human Kind!
Sweet Illusion of the Mind!
How in search of distant Joy
Man's vain Race dost thou employ!
Who thro' various Perils run,
By their Gain to be undone!
How empty are th'Opinions of Mankind!
Sway'd by no Reason, to no Point confin'd!
With cold Indiff'rence some those Objects view,
Which others with insatiate Thirst pursue.

169

STROPHE II.

How did they stem th'impetuous Tide,
Where clashing Rocks the flying Sail surprize?
How on the foaming Back of Neptune glide!
Safe by the sleepless Shores where Phineus lies?
Where the Nereid's Virgin Choir
Fifty Sisters of the Main,
To their old immortal Sire
Chaunt by turns their Choral Strain;
Sweetly sounding in the Breeze,
While before the swelling Gales,
O'er the Foam-besilver'd Seas,
Swift the well-steer'd Vessel sails,
Whether by the stormy Wing
That collects the southern Clounds,
Or by western Airs, that sing
Gently thro' the whistling Shrouds,
Thro' the Euxine borne along,
Or by Leuca coasting, where

170

Ever dwell the Cliffs among
All the feather'd Tribes of Air.

ANTISTROPHE II.

Oh! that to Iphigenia's Pray'r
Kind Fortune list'ning hither wou'd convey
Ledæan Helen, that pernicious Fair,
With her own Blood our Princess to repay!
Oh! might I that Traitress view,
Here within this sacred Fane,
Droping all with gory Dew,
And by Iphigenia slain!
But what Transports should I find!
Wou'd some Græcian Stranger come,
These hard Fetters to unbind,
And in Freedom waft me home!
Ye sweet Children of the Brain,
Dear fantastick Visions, rise!
And my Country once again
Place before these wishing Eyes!
For, alas! in Dreams alone
Shall I view my native Shore!
Dreams, the visionary Boon
Giv'n alike to Rich and Poor.

The End of the Second Act.

171

ACT III.

Iphigenia, Chorus.
Iph.
Behold in Manacles the Grecians bound
Bend hitherward their Steps, a welcome Off'ring
To our great Goddess: Peace, ye Virgins, peace.
These fair First-fruits of Greece approach the Temple,
Nor hath the Shepherd with false Tales abus'd us.

Cho.
O venerable Goddess! if this Land
Hath in Obedience to thy heav'nly Will
These bloody Rites ordain'd, propitious now
Accept their Off'rings; Off'rings which the Greeks
Taught by their Laws deem horrid and profane.

172

Enter Orestes and Pylades bound, attended by Priests, Guards, &c.
Iph.
'Tis well. But it behoves me first to see
Perform'd in Order due, whate'er concerns
The Worship of the Goddess: loose their Chains,
For being holy, they may not be bound.
Depart ye now, and in the Sanctuary [to the Priests, &c.

Prepare the needfull and accustom'd Rites.
Alas! young Strangers, whence are ye deriv'd?
Whose Womb conceiv'd you? and whom call ye Father?
Whom style your Sister? if perchance ye have
A Sister; luckless Virgin! soon to lose
Such Brothers, “Who can see his future Fates,
“And say, Thus shall they be! The Ways of Heav'n
“Are imperceptible. And no one knows
“What Sorrows threaten him; th'Inconstancy
“Of Fortune still perplexing all Conjectures.
Whence came ye, wretched Strangers? a long Voyage
Hath brought you to this Shore; a longer yet
Remains, and to a Shore still more remote
From your dear Country—to the Shades below.

Ores.
Wherefore, O Virgin, whosoe'er thou art,
Dost thou bewail the common Woes of Life?
And why do our Misfortunes thus afflict thee?
“Fond is the Wretch, who, knowing he must die,
“Thinks by vain Sorrow and unmanly Tears
“To quell the Fear of Death; or, void of Hope,
“Grieves at th'Approach and Certainty of Fate,

173

“Creating thus two Evils out of one,
“By losing with his Life his Honour too.
Let Fortune take her Course; lament us not;
We know what Sacrifice your Customs here
Ordain, and know that we must be the Victims.

Iph.
Which of you Strangers is nam'd Pylades?
This Information I would first receive.

Ores.
He—But what Pleasure gain you from this Knowledge?

Iph.
Next, to what State of Greece doth he belong?

Ores.
Can this Intelligence import you aught?

Iph.
Are ye two Brothers of one Mother born?

Ores.
Brothers we are in Friendship, not in Blood.

Iph.
On thee what Name was by thy Sire impos'd?

Ores.
I shou'd, if rightly nam'd, be styl'd th'Unhappy.

Iph.
I meddle not with that, charge that on Fortune.

Ores.
Dying unknown we shall not be defam'd.

Iph.
Can such a Thought affect a Mind so great?

Ores.
You sacrifice my Body, not my Name.

Iph.
May I not learn what Country claims thy Birth?

Ores.
Thy Questions nought import a dying Man.

Iph.
Yet what with-holds your yielding me this Pleasure?

Ores.
Myself I boast from noble Argos sprung.

Iph.
Now, by the Gods! art thou indeed from Argos?

Ores.
Yea: of Mycenæ, once a potent City.

Iph.
Driv'n thence by Exile com'st thou here, or how?

Ores.
My Flight was voluntary, yet constrain'd.

Iph.
Vouchsafe then to reply to my Demands.

Ores.
I will, tho' it enhance my Misery.

174

Iph.
Thy Voyage hither, since thou cam'st from Argos,
Was greatly to be wish'd.

Ores.
By thee perchance.
If so, do thou rejoice; it joys not me.

Iph.
The Fame of Troy no doubt hath reach'd thy Ears.

Ores.
Wou'd that it never had, not even in Dreams!

Iph.
They say that famous City is no more.

Ores.
Troy is no more; Fame hath not ly'd in that.

Iph.
Is Helen to her Husband's Bed return'd?

Ores.
Return'd she is, and brought Perdition with her.

Iph.
Where dwells she now? She once did injure me.

Ores.
She dwells at Sparta with her former Lord.

Iph.
Thou common Bane of Greece, not mine alone!

Ores.
I too have reap'd the Fruits of her Espousals.

Iph.
Return'd the Grecians so as Fame reports?

Ores.
How many Questions hast thou ask'd in one!

Iph.
Fain wou'd I profit by thee, ere thou dy'st.

Ores.
Make thy Demands then; and indulge thy Pleasure.

Iph.
There was a Seer, nam'd Calchas, came he back?

Ores.
He dy'd; as in Mycenæ was reported.

Iph.
O mighty Goddess!—Lives Laertes' Son?

Ores.
He is not yet return'd, but lives, they say.

Iph.
O may he die, nor see his Country more!

Ores.
Spare, spare your Curses! nothing prospers with him.

Iph.
The Son of Thetis, is he yet alive?

Ores.
The valiant Son of Thetis, who in vain
At Aulis was espous'd, is now no more.

Iph.
Sure in those Spousals there was Treachery;

175

At least, so some pretend, who suffer'd by them.

Ores.
But in thy Turn, say, Virgin, who art thou,
That askest with such Knowledge about Greece?

Iph.
Myself am also from that Nation sprung,
But in my tender Years I was undone.

Ores.
I marvel not, if thou desire to learn
The State of Greece.

Iph.
The Leader of the Greeks,
He whom Men style the Happy, what of him?

Ores.
Whom say'st thou? for that Leader of the Greeks,
Whom I did know, was not among the happy.

Iph.
The royal Son of Atreus, Agamemnon.

Ores.
Virgin! I know not,—ask me not that Question.

Iph.
But by the Gods I will, and, gentle Stranger,
Vouchsafe to answer it, and make me happy.

Ores.
He fell; and others in his Fall involv'd.

Iph.
Fell! by what luckless Fate? Unhappy me!

Ores.
But wherefore dost thou sigh at his Misfortunes!
Can Agamemnon's Woes relate to thee?

Iph.
I sigh'd reflecting on his former Grandeur.

Ores.
He dy'd most wretched, murder'd by his Wife.

Iph.
Unhappy both, the Murd'ress and the Murder'd!

Ores.
Then finish here, and question me no farther.

Iph.
This only—Lives that wretched Monarch's Wife!

Ores.
No—she is dead—His Son did murder her.

Iph.
O noble House! how ruin'd, how confounded!
What cou'd incite the Son to such a Deed?

Ores.
He slew her to revenge his Father's Death.

176

Iph.
Oh! what a righteous Sin did he commit!

Ores.
Yet righteous as he was, neither in that,
Nor in obeying whatsoe'er besides
The Gods enjoin'd, hath he prov'd fortunate.

Iph.
Did Agamemnon leave no other Issue?

Ores.
He left a Virgin Daughter, nam'd Electra.

Iph.
And of his Daughter, that was sacrific'd
Is there no mention?

Ores.
None but of her Death.

Iph.
O wretched Daughter! O unhappy Sire!
Thou that cou'dst murder her.

Ores.
She fell indeed,
A thankless Victim for a worthless Woman.

Iph.
And dwells the murder'd Monarch's Son in Argos?

Ores.
That woefull Son dwells ev'ry where and no where.

aside.
Iph.
“Adieu, ye lying Visions! ye are nothing:
“As are those Dæmons also we call wise;
“E'en like the flitting Dreams which they inspire.
“In Things divine, it seems, as well as human,
“Confusion enters and Uncertainty.
This Solace yet remains, that if indeed
He be, as these pretend, who seem to know,
Lost and unhappy; not by his own Folly,
But by obeying Heav'n, he was undone.

Cho.
But we, alas! of whom shall we enquire
The Fortunes of our Friends; if yet they live?

Iph.
Strangers, attend: This Conf'rence to my Mind
A Purpose hath suggested, which pursued

177

With Care and Diligence (so all approve)
May in th'Event prove fortunate to all,
And above all most fortunate to me.
Wilt thou, so I preserve thee from the Altar, [to Orestes.

Repair to Argos, my Ambassador,
And to my yet surviving Friends from me
Convey a Letter, which a Captive once
Pen'd in my Name, condoling my Misfortunes,
And not imputing his sad Death to me,
But to the Laws and Customs of the Land,
And the dread Sanction of the Deity.
Till now I ne'er could find a Messenger,
That could escape from this inhuman Shore,
And bear my Letter to my Friends in Argos.
Thou therefore (for thou seem'st to entertain
No Enmity to me, and well to know
Argos, and those dear Objects of my Love)
Receive thy Life; no trifling Recompence
For the slight Task I wou'd impose upon thee.
But thou (for so these rigid Laws require) [to Pylades.

Must fall the Victim here, without thy Friend.

Ores.
O Virgin, all that thou hast said, is just,
One thing excepted, that my Friend must die.
I cannot bear the Burden of his Death;
For I have steer'd him into these Misfortunes,
The Pilot I, and he the Passenger,
The kind Companion of my Grief and Toil.
Then were it most unjust, that by his Death

178

Thy Favour I should purchase, and alone
Escape these Evils; therefore be it thus:
Thy Letter give to him, his faithfull Hand
Shall bear it safe to Argos; so shall Heav'n
Crown all thy Wishes with Success.—For me,
Let who so mindeth, slay me—“In the Laws
“Of Friendship 'tis most infamous and base
“To leave thy Friend to struggle with the Woes,
“In which thou hast involv'd him, and provide
“For thy own Safety only.” This Man here,
This Stranger, is my Friend, whose precious Life
I rate at no less Value than my own.

Iph.
O noble Youth! how gen'rous was the Root,
From whence such Virtue sprung! Thou best of Friends!
Pray Heav'n! that he, who now of all my Race
Alone survives, my Brother, prove like him!
For, gentle Strangers, I too have a Brother;
Tho' now deny'd to these desiring Eyes.
Then, since thy Choice determines so, let him
Convey my Letter, thou prepare to die;
Thou seem'st with Transport to embrace thy Death.

Ores.
By whom am I to bleed? what ruthless Priest
Performs these horrid and inhuman Rites?

Iph.
I; 'tis my Function to appease the Goddess.

Ores.
A Function neither to be lov'd nor envy'd.

Iph.
But laid on me by Force, which all obey.

Ores.
And doth thy Virgin Hand on Men perform
This slaught'rous Office?

179

Iph.
No, my sole Employ
Is on their Heads to pour the lustral Vase.

Ores.
May I demand who slays the Victim?

Iph.
They,
To whom that Charge belongs, are in the Temple:

Ores.
When I am dead, what Tomb is to receive me?

Iph.
A dismal Cavern in a yawning Rock
Deep sunk, and flaming round with sacred Fire.

Ores.
How then, my Sister! shall thy pious Hands
Perform a Sister's Part to thy dead Brother?

Iph.
O wretched Stranger! whosoe'er thou art,
Vain were a Wish like that: thy Sister far,
Far from this savage, barb'rous Land resides.
Yet since thou art of Argos, what I can,
What little Courtesies I can bestow,
Shall not be wanting to adorn thy Tomb,
Thy honorary Tomb; and on the Flame,
That shall consume thy Body, will I pour
The Flow'r-drawn Nectar of the Mountain-Bee,
And all the due Libations of the Dead.
Now go I, from Diana's Shrine to fetch
My Letter, where it lies. Unhappy Youth!
Thou shalt not find Malevolence from me.
Observe the Strangers, Guards; but bind them not. aside.

Joy, unexpected Joy shall I impart
To the dear Objects of my Love at Argos:
And when by my Epistle they shall learn

180

aside.
Her to be yet alive whom they think dead,
No anxious Doubts those Pleasures can allay.

Exit Iphigenia.
Cho.
Thee to the bloody Altar doom'd, [to Orestes.

Thee, Stranger, we lament and mourn.

Ores.
Rather rejoice; there is no Cause for Woe.

Cho.
But thee, to better Fortune born, [to Pyl.

Thee we felicitate; thee, happy Youth,
Who to thy Country shalt again return.

Pyl.
The Death of those we love blasts ev'ry Joy,
And saddens ev'ry Scene.

Cho.
O horrid Sacrifice! inhuman Rites!
Alas! thou dy'st. [to Ores.]
Alas! thou dy'st. [to Pyl.

Ah! which of you must die?
As yet I doubt, Oh! tell me which.
Tell me, to whom these Tears belong?
To whom must I address my mournfull Song?
Exit Chorus.

Ores.
Say, are thy Thoughts, my Friend, the same with mine?

Pyl.
I know not to thy Question what to answer.

Ores.
Who may this Virgin be? who with a Zeal
So truly Grecian strictly question'd us

181

About the Greeks? the Toils they underwent
Before the Walls of Troy? and their Return?
Of Calchas, the sage Augur? of the Son
Of Peleus? and the wretched Agamemnon?
Whose Woes how much did she commiserate!
And then with Eagerness examin'd me
About his Wife and Children! Sure she is
A Grecian born, and certainly of Argos:
Else would she never send her Letter there,
Nor with so much Sollicitude inquire,
As if united in one common Cause,
About the State of Argos.

Pyl.
I indeed,
But you my Tale prevented, was employ'd
On the same Question, with this Diff'rence,
I with myself reflected that the Woes
Of Kings are publick, and well known to all
Who yield Attention to the Voice of Fame.
My Mind too was with other Thoughts engag'd.

Ores.
What are they? by imparting them perchance
Thou may'st gain Knowledge.

Pyl.
With myself I thought
That to survive thy Death were infamous
In me thy Friend; together to this Shore
We sail'd, we liv'd, and we must die together.
In Argos shall I not, and Phocis too,
With Baseness and foul Cowardice be charg'd,

182

And seem to many (for most Men are evil)
Shou'd I return alone, to have betray'd,
Nay more, to have destroy'd thy Life, in this
So gen'ral Desolation of thy House,
That I might seize thy Sceptre, having wedded
Thy Sister, the sole Heiress of thy Kingdom.
These sad Reflexions with such Horror fill
My apprehensive Heart, that nought shall shake
Th'unalterable Purpose of my Soul,
To mingle my expiring Breath with thine,
At the dire Altar to be slain with thee,
And in one common Flame consume together.
This Part becomes a Friend, and him who dreads
Reproach and Infamy.

Ores.
Peace, peace, my Friend;
Me it behoves to bear my own Misfortunes;
And not by sharing double ev'ry Woe;
Were I with Murder to requite the Toils,
Thou for my sake hast suffer'd, what thou say'st
Of Infamy and Scorn, will all redound
On my detested Name: and sure for me
Thus hated, persecuted thus by Heav'n,
It cannot be calamitous to die.
But thou, my Pylades, art prosperous,
Art innocent and pure: no Curse attends
Thee or thy Family; while mine, alas!
Is all defil'd with Guilt and Wretchedness.
Thou with my Sister, whom to thee I gave

183

In Marriage, may'st with Children once again
My Father's House replenish, and preserve
My Memory and Name. Then go and live!
Live my Paternal Sceptre to enjoy.
But when to Argos thou shalt safe arrive,
By this Right Hand of Fellowship and Love,
I do conjure thee, Pylades, to raise
An honorary Tomb, and on it place
Some monumental Trophy to thy Friend;
And let my Sister offer on my Grave
Her Grief-shorn Tresses, and a pious Tear.
Then tell her how in Sacrifice I fell,
From all Pollutions by an Argive Maid
In my own Blood before the Altar purg'd.
And, oh! abandon not my Orphan Sister,
Nor naked leave my Father's wretched House,
Betraying the Alliance, thou should'st guard!
And now farewell! thou best and truest Friend!
Thou dear Companion of my youthfull Sports,
Twin-brother of one Nurse's tender Care!
Oh! what a Load of Sorrow and Distress
Have my Calamities impos'd upon thee!
Apollo, that great Prophet, hath deceiv'd us,
And, of his former Oracles asham'd,
Contriv'd to send me to this distant Shore;
Me, who resigning up myself to him,

184

As he commanded me, did slay my Mother,
In Vengeance of whose Death I perish now.

Pyl.
An honorary Tomb to thee shall rise;
Nor will I e'er abandon or betray
Thy Sister's Bed; since thou, unhappy Youth,
Wilt needs constrain me to survive my Friend,
Here doom'd to perish. So it seems decreed:
Yet still some Hope remains; nor can I yet
Distrust the Gods, whose sacred Oracles,
Tho' on the perillous Brink of Ruin plac'd,
Have never cast me down the Precipice.
Oft at the lowest Ebb of hopeless Fortune
The Tide returns, and wond'rous Changes brings—

Ores.
No more—I say, Apollo hath abus'd me;
And lo! the Virgin from the Temple comes.

The End of the Third Act.

189

ACT IV.

Iphigenia, Orestes, Pylades.
Iph.
Depart ye, and returning to the Temple,
Aid in their sacred Offices the Priests,
And those who must intend the Sacrifice.
Ex. Guards.

190

Behold the Letter to whose secret Folds
My Soul commits her various Purposes!
Yet hear me, Strangers, still one Doubt remains:
What Man beset with Peril is the same,
As when he finds himself secure and free
From Dread and Danger? Justly then I fear
Lest he, who now so forward seems to bear
My Letter to Mycenæ, when escap'd
Safe from this barb'rous Shore, will disregard,
And slight my Message.

Ores.
Then declare thy Pleasure;
Say, what Security will ease thy Doubts?

Iph.
His Oath; let him engage his solemn Oath
To bear this Letter to my Friends in Argos.

Ores.
And wilt thou also pawn thy Faith to him?

Iph.
Say to what Purpose? What must I perform?

191

Ores.
To suffer him depart in Safety hence.

Iph.
How should he otherwise convey my Letter?

Ores.
But will your King, think'st thou, consent to this?

Iph.
For this Consent I will engage; and more,
Aboard some Vessel I myself will place him.

Ores.
Swear then, and thou, my Pylades, begin
The sacred Rite, for thou art pure and holy.

Pyl.
I will convey thy Letter.

Iph.
You must swear
To bear this Letter to my Argive Friends.

Pyl.
I will convey this Letter to thy Friends.

Iph.
And I will save thy Life and send thee hence.

Ores.
What God call'st thou as Witness to thy Oath?

Iph.
Diana, at whose Altar here I serve.

Pyl.
Jove, I invoke, the awfull King of Heav'n.

Iph.
What if, regardless of thine Oath, thou swear
But to abuse me?

Pyl.
To my native Land

192

Then may I ne'er return! And what if thou
Neglect, as thou hast sworn, to save my Life?

Iph.
Oh! may I never live to visit Argos.

Pyl.
But hold, one Circumstance hath pass'd unnoted.

Iph.
Thou may'st propose it, if it be material.

Pyl.
This one Exemption I wou'd crave; suppose
The Vessel shou'd be lost, and in the Wave
Thy Letter in the gen'ral Wreck shou'd perish,
And I alone 'scape naked to the Shore;
Thou in that Case must quit me of my Oath.

Iph.
This will I do. To various Casualties
Since all Things here are subject, the Contents
To thee will I rehearse, that so thy Tongue
May to my Friends th'important Tale report,
And I, whate'er befalls, have less to fear.
For if thou can'st preserve my Letter, that
Will of itself my Purposes relate;
If not, yet thou escaping, may'st preserve
My Message.

Pyl.
Wisely, Virgin, hast thou judg'd
Betwixt the Gods and me. Now then declare,
When I at Argos shall arrive, to whom
Thy Letter, or thy Message must I bear?

Iph.
Say to Orestes, Son of Agamemnon,
“She, who in Aulis at the Altar bled,
“His Sister Iphigenia, sends him this,
“Yet living, tho' in fact still dead to him.”

193

Ores.
Where is she? Lives she from the Grave return'd?

Iph.
I whom thou seest, am that same Iphigenia—
But interrupt me not with thy Discourse.
“O dearest Brother, yet before I die,
“Yet bring me back to Argos from this Land,
“This barb'rous Land, and, oh! deliver me
“From this detested Ministry, with which
“Invested at Diana's Shrine I serve,
“And stain her Altars with the Blood of Strangers.

Ores.
What, Pylades, what must I say? Where are we?

Iph.
“This do, or on thy House, on thee, and thine,
“Orestes, will I call the Curse of Heav'n.”
Twice have I nam'd him, that thou may'st remember.

Pyl.
Oh! ye just Gods.

Iph.
Why call'st thou on the Gods?

Pyl.
Nothing: Proceed: my Mind was otherwhere.
Perchance my Questions in their Turn, O Virgin,
May with no less Amazement strike thy Soul.

Iph.
Tell him, “that great Diana sav'd my Life,
“Conveying in my stead a sacred Hind,
“Which then my Father slew, the while he thought
“That in his Daughter's Breast he plung'd his Sword.
“Diana sav'd me, and hath brought me hither.”
There is my Letter; these are the Contents.

Pyl.
To what an easy Task stand I engag'd!
And O! how fortunately hast thou sworn,
Imperial Virgin! No great Space of Time

194

The full Performance of my Oath demands:
Behold I bear thy Letter, and to thee
Deliver it, Orestes, from thy Sister!

Ores.
And I receive it—but away, vain Paper—
I shall not waste on Words my first fond Transports—
O dearest Sister!—Thou art much amaz'd—
Nay—I myself can scarce receive Conviction—
Tho' I enfold thee thus—I can't contain
My Raptures, when I hear such Wonders told!

Enter Chorus.
Cho.
Thou art to blame, young Stranger, to pollute
The Priestess of the Goddess; seizing thus
With Hands profane her consecrated Robe.

Ores.
O Sister, of the self same Father sprung,
Daughter of Agamemnon, turn not from me:

195

Oh! turn not from thy Brother, thy Orestes,
Whom, against all thy Hopes, thou now hast found.

Iph.
Have I now found my Brother? say'st thou so?
Oh no—my Brother still resides in Argos.

Ores.
Thy Brother is not there, unhappy Maid!

Iph.
Art thou the Son of Tyndarus's Daughter?

Ores.
Yea, and the Grandson of the Son of Pelops.

Iph.
Ha! say'st thou; hast thou Evidence of this?

Ores.
I have; examine, prove me, question me
About my Father's Family.

Iph.
Speak on—
'Tis thine to bring the Proofs, and mine to hear.

Ores.
Then, Iphigenia, first reflect on this:
Thou know'st the fatal Contest that arose
'Tixt Atreus and Thyestes?

Iph.
I have heard;
About the Golden Ram, I think, they quarrell'd.

Ores.
In rich Embroid'ry didst thou not describe
This Story?

Iph.
Now thou com'st near my Soul.

Ores.
And how the flying Sun withdrew his Beams?

Iph.
That Figure in my Work I well remember.

Ores.
Did not in Aulis Clytæmnestra bathe
And deck thee for thy Spousals?

Iph.
Oh! 'tis true;
And those accurs'd Espousals were my Ruin.

Ores.
Why to thy Mother didst thou send thy Hair?

196

Iph.
That she might strew it on my empty Tomb,
In Memory of me.

Ores.
One Token more,
Of what myself have seen, will I produce.
In thy Apartment stands the antient Spear
Of Pelops, which he brandish'd in his Hand
Then, when he slew Oenomäus, and gain'd
Th'Elean Virgin, fair Hippodamia.

Iph.
O dearest Brother!—for thou art my Brother—
And I possess thee once again, Orestes!
Thee in a distant Region born,
Thee from thy native Country come,
From Argos hither come, dear, dear Orestes!

Ores.
And I again possess thee, Iphigenia!
Thee from the Grave return'd, for dead thou wert!
And see the precious Tears of Joy,
The Tears of Tenderness and Love,
Swell in thine Eyes, my Sister, swell in mine!

Iph.
An Infant in the Nurse's Arms,

197

An Infant sucking at the Breast
I left him, when I left my Father's House!
O! above all Expression fortunate!
My Soul, what shall I say?
Beyond all Wonders, all Imagination
Have these Things come to pass!

Ores.
Henceforward may we live both bless'd together!

Iph.
O Virgins! strange, almost incredible
Is the Delight, I have this Day received—
I fear I shall again as strangely lose him,
And that he'll make him Wings, and fly to Heav'n!
O Argos! O Mycenæ! Native Land!
Now do I thank thee for my Birth and Nurture,
Since thou hast likewise nurs'd this Brother up,
To give new Lustre to our fading Race?

Ores.
In Birth we both indeed are great and happy,
But in our Lives, alas! unfortunate.

Iph.
This Truth did I discover, wretched Maid!
Then, when my ruthless Father at my Throat
His murd'ring Faulchion held.

Ores.
Methinks, even now
I see thee at the dreadfull Altar stand.

Iph.
Then, when defrauded of my promis'd Nuptials
With the great Son of Peleus, I was brought
To that deceitfull Camp, the Haunt of Wolves:
When round that dreadfull Altar from each Eye
Stream'd Tears of Pity, and loud Groans were heard.

Ores.
Who would not weep at such a Sacrifice?

198

Iph.
Ev'n I could not but pity the Distress,
And Resolution of my cruel Father,—
Alas! how woefull was my Lot, to have
So hard and so unnatural a Father.

Ores.
One Evil ever ushers in another:
If thou by Fate or Chance had'st slain thy Brother,
Oh! Wretch, how horrid were a Deed like that!

Iph.
Oh horrible! most horrible!
And yet—how near was it, Orestes?
How hardly hast thou 'scap'd an impious Death,
Slain by thy Sister's Hand?
And oh! I tremble still to think,
How all these Things will end;
How Fortune will assist me to contrive
Some Means of his Escape from Death,
From this inhuman Shore!
That to his native Argos safe
I may convey him back, before
His precious Blood distain the sacred Knife.
Consider then, unhappy dear Orestes,
If best thou may'st resolve to quit thy Bark,
And, on thy Speed relying, over Land,
Thro' dreary Forests, and untravel'd Wilds,
And barb'rous Nations to expose thy Life:
Or whether passing the Cyanean Straits,
Thro' the long watry Way thou wilt attempt
With flying Sails to compass thy Escape?
Me miserable! luckless that I am!—

199

O that some God, some Mortal, some bless'd Chance,
Some unexpected Incident would rise
To open us a Passage thro' these Ills,
That have besieg'd us round, and shew
The two, the only two of Atreus' Race,
Some final Period of their Misery.

Cho.
When to each other's Arms long absent Friends
Are by surprizing strange Events restor'd,
Our own Experience, and consenting Custom,
Bids us permit them to indulge the Joy
Of warm Embraces and transporting Tears.
But now, Orestes, it imports us most
To check this unavailing Tenderness,
And think how we may win the glorious Name
Of Liberty, and fly this barb'rous Land.
“For 'tis the Part of wise and prudent Men
“Not to neglect their Fortune, but to use
“The present Good, as an Occasion offer'd
“Of gaining farther Happiness.”

Ores.
'Tis true;
And Fortune will (I trust) in this Attempt
Co-operate with us: her heav'nly Pow'r
By far transcends the Agency of Man.

Iph.
Yet for the present nought shall interrupt
(Since nought forbids) our Converse, till I learn
What Fate attends Electra: O tell me all,
For all thy Words sound gratefull to my Ear.

200

Ores.
My Friend hath bless'd her Life with wedded Love.

Iph.
Say whence, and from whose Loins he drew his Being?

Ores.
Of Phocis is his Father, and nam'd Strophius.

Iph.
My Kinsman! Son of Agamemnon's Sister!

Ores.
Thy Kinsman, and my faithfull only Friend.

Iph.
He was not born, when I at Aulis bled.

Ores.
The Bed of Strophius for a time was barren.

Iph.
Welcome, my Kinsman! Husband of my Sister!

Ores.
And more than Kinsman, Saviour of thy Brother.

Iph.
How could'st thou perpetrate that horrid Deed,
The Murder of thy Mother?

Ores.
Name it not!
I did it to revenge my Father's Death.

Iph.
What Cause incited her to slay her Husband?

Ores.
With what concerns thy Mother meddle not;
It is not good for thee to know.

Iph.
I'm silent.
The State of Argos now looks up to thee.

Ores.
No; Menelas is King, and we are Exiles.

Iph.
What? did our Uncle then Advantage take
Of our Distractions, to distress us more?

Ores.
No; the fell Furies drove me from my Country.

Iph.
This Madness seiz'd you now upon our Coast,
From whence some Shepherds brought me the Account
Of your Demeanour.

Ores.
Nor are they the first,
Or only Witnesses of my Afflictions.

201

Iph.
I understand you—for your Mother's Death
The Deities of Vengeance thus torment you.

Ores.
Yea, and controuling with an Iron Curb
My stubborn Spirit, ride me thro' the World.

Iph.
What Object steer'd you to this barb'rous Coast?

Ores.
The Oracles of Phœbus sent me hither.

Iph.
And on what Errand? May that be reveal'd?

Ores.
I'll tell thee, and from thence begin a Tale
Of many Labours and much Misery.
After those Crimes, which I forbear to mention,
Were in my Mother punish'd by my Hands,
Still haunted by the Furies up and down,
I roam'd an Exile and a Vagabond;
'Till Pythian Phœbus order'd me at length
To Athens to repair, and there defend
My Cause against the nameless Goddesses
In that impartial Court, which righteous Jove
Erected for the Trial once of Mars,
There brought to answer for the Guilt of Murder.

202

When thither I arriv'd, at first I found
All Doors against me barr'd, as one accurs'd,
And odious to the Gods; and those at last
Who yielded out of Shame to take me in,
And grant me the Reception due to Strangers,
Tho' under the same Roof they still remain'd,
Yet plac'd me at a Table by myself,
And by the studied Silence they observ'd,
Impos'd the like on me, that so I might
Hold no Communion with them, and apart
Take both my Food and Bev'rage; to this end
Was set by ev'ry Man, to each a Bowl,
Of the same Measure all, and fill'd alike.
Mean time, esteeming it not meet to blame
Or murmur at my Hosts, I griev'd in Silence,
And feigning to observe not what was done,
Groan'd inwardly that I had slain my Mother.
Yet have th'Athenians (for so Fame reports)
From this sad Circumstance of my Distress
Occasion taken to appoint a Feast,
To Pallas sacred, where the Law ordains,
In off'ring the Libations, to employ
A Bowl in Measure like to those assign'd
To ev'ry Guest by our Athenian Host.
But when, repairing to the Hill of Mars,
Before that dread Tribunal I appear'd
To plead my Cause, against me, on a Stone

203

As my Accuser sat, Tisiphone,
The eldest of the Furies; against whom
I on another as accus'd was plac'd:
Then came the Process on and Charge of Murder.
But Phœbus in the Court on my Behalf
Appearing, witness'd for me; and the Balls
On either Side by Pallas being told,
And found in Number equal, I was then
Presum'd by Rule of Justice innocent,
And from the Crime of Parricide discharg'd.
Such of the Furies then, as acquiesc'd
In this Decision of the Court, and heard
The Process, as Appellants strait resolv'd
To hold me by this solemn Sentence clear'd.
But others, by the righteous Rule of Law
Refusing to abide, continu'd still
Their persecuting Vengeance, over Greece
With restless Error driving me about;
Till coming to Apollo's Delphick Grove,
Before the Shrine I threw me on the Ground,
And from all Food abstaining, to him sware,
That I would there break short my Thread of Life,
If he, the Author of my Misery,
If Phœbus still refus'd to hear and save me.
Then from the golden Tripod spake the God,
And bade me hither come, and bearing hence
That sacred Image, which fell down from Heav'n,

204

In Athens to enshrine it.—Therefore, thou,
Co-operate, and aid me to attain
The only Means of Health, that Heav'n allows.
Of great Diana's Image once possess'd,
Soon shall I rest from these distracting Horrors,
And in a well-man'd Pinnace will transport
Thee, Iphigenia, to thy lov'd Mycenæ.
Then, dearest Sister, I conjure thee, save
Thy Father's House, O save thy wretched Brother!

205

For should we fail to gain that heav'nly Image,
Lost is thy Brother, lost the House of Atreus.

Cho.
Some fearfull Vengeance of the Gods pursues
The Race of Tantalus, and works them Woe.

Iph.
E're thy Arrival here, I oft have sigh'd
To visit Argos, and my dear Orestes,
And now my Wishes are the same with thine,
To free thee from thy Sorrows, and to heal
The sad Distractions of my Father's House,
No more resenting that he sought to slay me.
Thee from the Altar I perchance may save,
And save my Family: But to elude
The Goddess and the King, is what I fear.
When Thoas shall perceive the Marble Shrine
Robb'd of its Image, shall I not be slain?
For what can I alledge in my Excuse?
Could'st thou indeed by one advent'rous Act
Together with the Statue place me too
Aboard thy Vessel, it were worth the Hazard.
But this, without the other, will undo me.
And what of that?—Thy Object will be gain'd,
And thou return with Triumph to Mycenæ.
No Peril therefore, no, not Death itself,
Will I decline, thy Safety to procure.

206

Men are by all regretted when they die,
But a weak Woman is a trifling Loss.

Ores.
Let me not be my Mother's Murderer,
And thine too, Iphigenia; on my Head
Her Blood is full sufficient: no; with thee
I am resolv'd to share one common Fate,
Be it of Life or Death; and will attempt,
Unless I perish here, to waft thee home,
Or here will I remain and die with thee.
Now hearken to my Words: Can'st thou believe,
That if this Enterprize were opposite
To great Diana's Will, the Pythian God
To Athens would have order'd me to bear
Her sacred Image, and to see thy Face?
From all these Points conjoin'd I gather Hope,
That we shall happ'ly compass our Return.

Iph.
Be our first Care to 'scape impending Death,
Next, to obtain Possession of the Goddess,
Then think of our Return: Our Will is good.

Ores.
Can we not kill the King?

Iph.
'Tis hazardous
For Strangers to attempt to kill a King
In his own Kingdom.

Ores.
Yet must it be risqu'd,
If our own Safety hangs on the Success.

Iph.
To this I cannot yield, yet I applaud
Thy Fervency and Courage.

Ores.
Then suppose

207

Thou should'st conceal me in the Temple here?

Iph.
That thro' the Shades of Night we may escape.

Ores.
The thievish Night is friendly to Deceit;
The Day belongs to Truth and Honesty.

Iph.
Within the Temple watch a waking Guard
Of Priests, whose Vigilance we cannot cheat.

Ores.
Our Death, alas! is sure. O who can save us?

Iph.
A Scheme that seems to promise fairer Hopes
Now labours in my Breast.

Ores.
Impart it to us.

Iph.
I mean to make Advantage of thy Madness.

Ores.
A female Brain still teems with Stratagems.

Iph.
I will alledge, that, having slain thy Mother,
Thou art from Argos fled.

Ores.
Of my Mishap,
So it may profit aught, avail thee freely.

Iph.
That such a Victim will offend the Goddess.

Ores.
What Reason wilt thou render? I begin
To spy thy Purpose.

Iph.
That thou art unclean;
But shalt, when pure, be yielded up to Death.

Ores.
How will this aid us to obtain the Image?

Iph.
I will insist that in the Ocean Stream
Thou must be purified.

Ores.
Where stands the Goddess,
Whom here we sail'd to seek? within the Temple?

Iph.
That too, polluted by thy Touch impure,
Demands Ablution in the cleansing Flood.

208

Ores.
Where wilt thou do this? at the Southern Shore?

Iph.
Where thy moor'd Vessel at her Anchors rides.

Ores.
Whom wilt thou trust to bear the sacred Image?

Iph.
Myself: beside none may presume to touch it.

Ores.
To Pylades what Task must be allotted?

Iph.
He also must be said to be defil'd
With the same Guilt.

Ores.
But wilt thou act unseen,
Or to thy Monarch's Eye expose thy Deeds?

Iph.
Doubt not but I shall win him to our Purpose;
For done it cannot be without his Knowledge.

Ores.
The Bark and all the jovial Crew are ready.

Iph.
To have all that in Order be thy Care.

Ores.
Remains then one thing only: That these Women
Consent to keep our Secret: therefore beg,
Beseech them, and employ thy utmost Art,
And ev'ry moving Topick of Persuasion:
To move and touch the Heart thy Sex is strong:
For all the rest I doubt not of Success.

Iph.
My dearest Friends, I now look up to you! to the Cho.

In your Arbitrement my Fortune lies;
Henceforth, as ye determine, shall I be,
Be happy, or be nothing; be depriv'd
For ever of my Country, my dear Brother,
And this my dearest Kinsman. First for that.
But other Arguments I have to move you.
We Women still are friendly to each other,

209

True to the common Int'rests of our Sex.
Then be not only secret, but assisting,
And aid us in our Flight. Fidelity
And Secrecy are Virtues of great Worth.
Behold! in one and the same Fate involv'd
Three Friends, together destin'd to return
To their dear Country, or together die;
If I escape, that ye may likewise share
In the same Fortune, here do I engage
To waft you safe to Greece: Oh! then be secret;
Be faithfull: I conjure you by this Hand,
The Bond of Fellowship; by these fair Cheeks,
Which I salute in Friendship; by these Knees,
Which suppliant I embrace; by all the dear,
Dear Pledges left behind you at your Homes,
Your Parents and your Children: If there be
Among ye, who have Children, I appeal
To them, to all, to ev'ry one. Oh! speak:
What say ye? which of ye consents? which not?
Oh! tell me that; for if you disapprove,
I and my wretched Brother are undone.

Cho.
Fear not, dear Princess! have no other Care
But for thy Preservation. We will keep

210

Thy Purpose secret; so protect us, Jove!

Iph.
I thank ye, Friends: For this may Bliss attend ye!
Thou, Pylades, and thou, Orestes, now
Retire within the Temple; for the King
Will speedily come hither to inquire,
If yet the Victims at the Altar bleed.
O mighty Goddess! who in Aulis' Sands
Did'st save me from my Father's slaught'rous Hands,
To these and me once more thy Aid afford,
Nor falsify thy Brother's sacred Word:
Well-pleas'd with us to Athens O remove!
Nor with Reluctance quit this Scythian Grove:
To Athens thou art call'd, the rich, the great,
And can'st thou with Barbarians fix thy Seat?

Ex. Iphi. Orest. Pylad. with Guards.

STROPHE I.

Cho.
Sad Bird, who the Rocks still among
To the murm'ring Surges below
Repeatest thy dolorous Song,
In Numbers explaining thy Woe,

211

In Accents, which sadly declare
That Ceyx those Dirges inspires,
Lost Ceyx, the Cause of thy Care,
And Object of all thy Desires!
In Elegies, mournfull as thine,
Halcyone, we too complain;
In Banishment destin'd to pine,
And sigh for our Country in vain.
O Greece how I languish to see
Thy populous Cities once more!
How I languish, Lucina, for thee!
The Goddess, whom Matrons adore.
By Cynthius, where stands her rich Shrine,
By the Palm's high-embowering Shade,
By the Laurel, and Olive divine,
Where Latona reclin'd her sick Head;
By the Lake, on whose echoing Tides
The sweet Cygnet expiring complains,
Our Goddess Lucina resides,
Far, far from these barbarous Plains.

ANTISTROPHE I.

Alas! what a Torrent of Tears
Continually stream'd from these Eyes,
When fill'd with a thousand sad Fears,
To Pyrates we first fell a Prize?

212

When War and Oppression's strong Hand
Had laid our proud Cities all waste,
And we, a disconsolate Band,
Aboard their black Vessels were plac'd;
Thence savagely barter'd for Gold,
We came to this barb'rous Land;
And there to Captivity sold,
Around the dire Altar we stand,
Ordain'd on the Priestess to wait,
And assist at these horrible Rites!
For such an unfortunate State
Have we chang'd all our former Delights.
The Wretches long practis'd to mourn,
Perceive not the Weight of their Grief;
A Change in their Fortune must turn
To a better, and bring them Relief.
But they are completely unbless'd,
Who, bred and accustōm'd to Bliss,
Like us, on a sudden oppress'd,
Are plung'd in a hopeless Abyss.

STROPHE II.

Thee, Iphigenia, thro' yon watry Way
A well mann'd Bark to Argos shall convey:
While the toiling Crew to chear,
Pan his whistling Pipe shall bring,
And Apollo, heav'nly Seer,
Tuning to the Lyrick String

213

His Voice divine, shall speed the lab'ring Oar,
With joyous Pæans to th'Athenian Shore.
Iphigenia, thou shalt go,
Leaving wretched me behind,
And to favour thee shall blow
Ev'ry fair and gentle Wind:
Fair blow the Wind, and swell the puffing Sail,
'Till the tough Cordage stretch before the Gale.

ANTISTROPHE II.

Oh! might I travel thro' yon lucid Road,
Where rolls the Chariot of the fiery God!
Might I thro' th'impassive Air
My unwearied Course pursue!
Till, distinguish'd from afar,
My dear Country rose to view!
Then quick descending from my airy Height,
My Pinions would I close, and stay my Flight.
Then lead on the dancing Choir,
As upon my bridal Morn,
When I strove with rich Attire
Each fair Feature to adorn,
And shading with my Hair my blushing Face,
By half concealing heighten'd ev'ry Grace.

The End of the Fourth Act.

214

ACT V.

Thoas with Attendants, Chorus.
Tho.
Where is the Guardian of this sacred Dome,
The Grecian Virgin? Hath she yet prepar'd
The Strangers for the Altar? Or within
Burn now their Bodies in the sacred Fire?

Cho.
Behold she comes! herself will tell you all.

[Iphigenia appears in the Door of the Temple, with the Statue of the Goddess in her Arms.]
Tho.
Hold! wherefore, Iphigenia, hast thou heav'd,
And bearest from its Shrine that heav'nly Image,
Which from the Base may never be remov'd?

Iph.
O! King, advance not, stay thy Footsteps there.

Tho.
Hath ought befall'n unwonted in the Temple?

Iph.
Abominations! for my holy Lips
Must style them so.

Tho.
To what strange History
Will this Preamble usher us? Explain.

Iph.
The Victims thou hast taken for the Altar,
O Thoas, are unclean.

Tho.
Declar'st thou this
From Knowledge, Iphigenia, or Opinion?

Iph.
The Statue of the Goddess on her Base.
Turn'd round.

215

Tho.
Self-mov'd, or by an Earthquake shaken?

Iph.
Self-mov'd and clos'd the Curtain of her Eyes.

Tho.
But to what Cause ascrib'st thou an Event
So wonderfull? Uncleanness in these Strangers?

Iph.
Doubtless; for they have done a horrid Deed.

Tho.
Have they with Scythian Blood their Hands defil'd?

Iph.
The Guilt of Murder they brought hither with them.

Tho.
What Murder? Thou hast fill'd me with Impatience.

Iph.
Against their Mother they conspir'd, and slew her.

Tho.
O Phœbus! No Barbarian would have dar'd
A Deed so horrible!

Iph.
And therefore Greece
Hath driv'n and hunted them from all her Coasts.

Tho.
Were these the Motives that incited thee
To bring the sacred Image forth?

Iph.
To keep her
From the Contagion of this horrid Guilt
I mov'd her from her Shrine, to this all-pure
And holy Cope of Heav'n.

Tho.
From what Signs
Did'st thou collect these Strangers were unclean?

Iph.
When I beheld the Goddess backward turn,
I straight inferr'd the Cause.

Tho.
An Eye so sharp,
A Judgment so sagacious, speaks thee wise,
And well instructed in the Arts of Greece.

Iph.
The Strangers upon this, with a sweet Bait
Sought to allure my Heart.

216

Tho.
By charming thee
With some good Tidings of thy Friends in Argos?

Iph.
They told me, that Orestes liv'd, my dear
And only Brother!

Tho.
That the pleasing Tale
Might in return prevail on thee to save them.

Iph.
They told me farther, that my Father liv'd,
And prosper'd.

Tho.
Yet hast thou escap'd the Snare,
Still faithfull to our Goddess and her Worship.

Iph.
My Soul abhors all Greeks: They caus'd my Ruin.

Tho.
Say then, how must we treat these Grecian Strangers?

Iph.
The Law must be respected and obey'd.

Tho.
The cleansing Lavers, and the bloody Knife
Of Slaughter is prepar'd.

Iph.
The Victims first
With pure Ablutions must be sanctify'd.

Tho.
Sufficeth for these sacred Purposes
The living Fountain, or the briny Wave?

Iph.
The Sea best cleanses all Impurities.

Tho.
So shall the Victims fall more acceptable.

Iph.
And so shall my Designs more surely speed.

Tho.
Ev'n at the Temple's Foot the salt Wave breaks.

Iph.
Retirement I demand, and Solitude,
For other Matters have I to perform.

Tho.
Go where thy Purpose calls: fear no Intrusion.
I pry not into hidden Mysteries.

217

Iph.
This Image also must be purify'd.

Tho.
Yea, doubtless, if polluted by the Filth
Of him, who slew his Mother.

Iph.
Otherwise
Ne'er had my Hand remov'd it from the Shrine.

Tho.
How good is Piety with Prudence join'd!

TROCHAICKS.

Iph.
Know'st thou what should now be order'd?

Tho.
'Tis thy Office to prescribe.

Iph.
Let them bind in Chains the Strangers.

Tho.
Canst thou fear they should escape.

Iph.
Trust no Greek; Greece is perfidious.

218

Tho.
Slaves, depart, and bind the Greeks.

Iph.
Having bound, conduct them hither from the Temple.

Tho.
Be it done.

Iph.
Then with Mantles veil their Faces from the Sun's ætherial Flame,
And let some of thy Attendants wait on me.

Tho.
Be these thy Guard,

Iph.
To the City next thy Mandate issue—

Tho.
What must it import?

Iph.
That all keep within their Houses.

Tho.
Lest they meet the Murderer?

Iph.
Yea; for that will cause Pollution.

Tho.
Go, and publickly proclaim
That to all it is forbidden to appear in view.

Iph.
O King!
Thy Affection to thy People far exceeds the Love of Friends.

Tho.
What to me, O royal Virgin, thou hast courteously apply'd,
Better suits thy wond'rous Merit, whom we all admire and praise.

Iph.
Thou before the Fane remaining—

Tho.
What must Thoas here perform?

Iph.
Purify the sacred Mansion.

Tho.
Cleans'd and bless'd for thy Return?

Iph.
But as forth proceed the Strangers—

Tho.
What to me dost thou enjoin?

Iph.
Spread before thine Eyes thy Mantle.

219

Tho.
That their Sight pollute me not?

Iph.
Long should I delay returning—

Tho.
Fix the Limits of thy Stay.

Iph.
Marvel not.

Tho.
O take thy Leisure to perform the solemn Rites.

Iph.
Grant, ye Gods, these Expiations may, as I intend, succeed!

Tho.
I subscribe to that Petition.

Iph.
From the Temple, lo! I view
This way marching the Greek Strangers, with the Pomp of Sacrifice,
Holy Ensigns of Diana, blooming Youths to Slaughter doom'd,
Victims, whom I now must offer, Blood to expiate with Blood,
And the solemn Blaze of Torches, with all other Rites requir'd,
To perform the due Ablution, of the Goddess and the Greeks.
From the Reach of this Contagion, fly! I warn ye all to fly!
Be thou Priest, who at the Altars of the Gods wouldst spotless serve!
Be thou Bridegroom with Impatience hasting to complete thy Bliss!
Or a Matron sick and lab'ring with the Burden of thy Womb!
Fly! avaunt! lest this Pollution should infect and blast your Joys!

220

Virgin Daughter of Latona, mighty Goddess, heav'nly Queen!
So I may for these propitiate, and to thee in such a Place,
As by thee shall be accepted, may due Sacrifice perform,
In a Temple pure and holy, thou unspotted Maid, shalt dwell,
And we also shall be happy—What I farther would express,
Tho' unutter'd, thou omniscient, Heav'n and thou canst understand.

[Exeunt Iph. Ores. Pyl. and Procession, &c. manet Chorus.

ODE.

Cho.
Great is Latona's Offspring! which of yore
In rich Ortygia's fruitfull Vale she bore!

221

Phœbus with curling Gold array'd,
Sweet Master of the Lyrick String,
And great Diana, Silver-shafted Maid,
The Mighty Seed of Heav'n's immortal King
From Delos, that o'erlooks the circling Floods,
From Delos, famous for the Birth of Gods,
To high Parnassus, on whose sacred Head
His holy Revels oft young Bacchus holds,
Her heav'nly Offspring did Latona bear,
Where underneath a Laurel's verd'rous shade,
A monstrous Serpent in unnumber'd Folds
Wound up his spotted Train, and from afar
Glitt'ring with brazen Scales, and glaring wide
With fiery Orbs suffus'd with Blood,
Before th'inspiring Cavern stood,
And to the Tripod all Access deny'd.
Him, the foul Spawn of Earth, Apollo slew,
While at Latona's Breast as yet he hung,
And in her Arms with sportive Vigour sprung
Exulting in his Might,
Impatient for the Fight,
Impatient his huge Foe the Python to subdue.
Then entring the Prophetick Cave,
Down on the Golden Tripod sate the God,
And from that Seat of Truth his Answers gave,

222

From that divine Abode
His sacred Oracles he sung,
While anxious Mortals listen'd to his Tongue.
There by Castalia's Silver Tides
The Delphick Seer resides,
All in the Center of the Globe enthron'd,
Thence equally to deal his heav'nly Truths around.
But when the Beldam Earth beheld
Her Daughter Themis from her Shrine expell'd,
Fantastick Spectres in her fruitful Womb
She bred, Companions of Night's thickest Gloom;
And to inquiring Mortals, as they lay
Stretch'd in her darksom Grotts, she bade them rise,
And in Prophetick Dreams display
Their present, past, and future Destinies.
While in Resentment of her injur'd Child,
Thus of a Prophet's Praise Apollo she beguil'd.
But to Olympus' airy Height
With Speed Apollo took his Flight,
And there besought th'Almighty Sire
To interpose his Pow'r divine,
To quell the vengefull Beldam's Ire,
And drive her Spectres from the Pythian Shrine.
The Father smil'd, to hear his Son
Sollicit such a gainful Boon,
And for his Pythian Dome demand
The Gold, as well as Worship of the Land.

223

The Father smil'd, and bow'd his Head;
Earth's visionary Phantoms fled;
And lying Dreams no more believ'd,
No more inquiring Man deceiv'd.
To Phœbus was restor'd his former Fame:
Again to Delphi crouding Nations came,
Consulting boldly that unerring Shrine,
Where Truth once more had plac'd her Throne divine.

Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
Ye Servants of the Temple, ye who wait
At great Diana's Altars, tell me, Where?
Say, where is Thoas King of Scythia gone?
Call, open your strong Gates, and call him forth,
Forth from the Temple bid our Monarch come.

Cho.
What would'st thou?—but strict Silence was enjoin'd us.

Mes.
The two young Grecian Strangers are gone off;
By Iphigenia's Counsel and Assistance
They are departed hence, and in their Bark
Bear with them the fam'd Image of our Goddess.

Cho.
The Tale thou tellest merits not our Faith,
But he, for whom thou dost inquire, the King,
Is hastily departed from the Temple.

Mes.
Where? for 'tis fit he know what now is doing.

Cho.
We know not; hasten thou, and seek him out,
And if perchance thou find him, tell thy Tale.

Mes.
Are not all Women treacherous and false?
Ye are Accomplices in this Transaction.

224

Cho.
Thy Words proceed from a distemper'd Mind.
How can these Strangers Flight relate to us?

Mes.
Then wherefore fly ye not to the King's Palace?

Cho.
Not till we first have gain'd Intelligence,
If in the Temple yet our King remains.

Mes.
Ho! open there! To you within I call.
Inform the King, that at the Gate there stands
One, fraught with Tidings horrible and strange.

Enter Thoas.
Tho.
What's he that round the Temple of the Goddess
This Clamour raises, forcing the barr'd Gates,
And striking all within with Fear and Horrour?

Mes.
These Women, Thoas, have with Lyes deceiv'd me,
And sought to send me hence, reporting falsly
Thou from the Fane wert hastily departed.

Tho.
From such a Fraud to them what Gain accrues?

Mes.
That will I shew hereafter: Now attend
To what is now more urgent. The young Virgin,
Who at Diana's Altars here presides,
Young Iphigenia, with the Grecian Strangers,
Is flying from this Shore, and with her bears
The venerable Image of our Goddess.
Th'Ablutions, she pretended, were a Cheat.

Tho.
How say'st thou, what bad Dæmon hath possess'd her?

Mes.
Know then, fresh Matter for Astonishment,
She did it to preserve Orestes' Life.

Tho.
Whom? what Orestes? Clytæmnestra's Son?

Mes.
The Victim, whom she feign'd to purify.

225

Tho.
A Miracle! I cannot style it less!

Mes.
Fix not thy Thoughts on that; but lift to me,
And when thou shalt have heard, and weigh'd my Tale,
Advise how to pursue and take these Strangers.

Tho.
Say on; thou counsel'st well; no narrow Frith
Have they to pass, that soon they should expect
To fly beyond the Reach of my strong Spear.

Mes.
When to the Sea-beat Shore we now arriv'd,
Where undescry'd Orestes' Vessel lay,
The Daughter of Atrides, Iphigenia,
As she were then beginning to perform
Some mystick Sacrifice, or solemn Rite
Of Expiation, which with earnest Care
She seem'd to be preparing, with a Nod
Commanded us, who, as thou didst enjoin,
Attended her, and led the Pris'ners bound,
Back to retire; and taking in her Hand
Their Chains, march'd on, herself conducting them.
This seem'd indeed suspicious, but thy Slaves,
O Thoas, acquiesc'd in her Commands.
Some short Space after, that she might appear
Still in her Mysteries engag'd, she scream'd
Aloud, and chaunted forth some barb'rous Strain,
As the dread Act of holy Expiation
That Instant were perform'd—But when in vain
Long time we sate expecting, in our Minds
A sudden Fear arose, lest those Greek Strangers,

226

Bursting their Fetters, might attempt to slay
The Virgin Priestess, and escape by Flight.
Yet cautious of surveying what the Gods
Ordain to be conceal'd, we silent sate:
At length, by common Vote it was decreed
To go, altho' forbidden, to the Place:
There we no sooner came, but we descry'd
A Grecian Gally, with her Oars like Wings
Advanc'd, and flutt'ring for immediate Flight,
With fifty jovial Sailors by her Sides,
Rang'd on their Benches, and the two young Greeks
Unbound, and standing on the lofty Poop:
Some kept the Prow with Staves, while on the Bows
Some stow'd the Anchors, others to the Rocks,

227

That butted o'er the Main, with nimble Feet
On Ladders climbing, by the Hausers drew
The Vessel to the Shore, to take on board
The Virgin Priestess, to the Deck beneath,
Now o'er the Billows hasting to descend.
But we perceiving then their treacherous Schemes,
Regardless of all Danger, on her seiz'd,
And grasping fast the Hausers, boldly leapt
Upon the Stern, and tore the Rudder off;
And thus expostulating with them, said:
On what Pretence, O Strangers, sail ye hither
O'er the wide Ocean, from our Shrine to steal,
And bear away our Priestess and our Image?
What Right hast thou to force this Virgin hence,
Like a bought Slave? and whence? and who art thou?
To this he quick reply'd, “That thou mayst know,

228

“I am Orestes, Brother to this Virgin,
“The Son of Agamemnon, hither come
“Home to convey my Sister, lost so long.”
Yet fast we held the Virgin still, and fain
Wou'd have compell'd her to return to thee;
Whence many a Bruise and Buffet soon ensu'd;
For Weapons we had none, but carried on
The Fight with Nature's Arms, which in our Sides
And Breasts the two young Strangers darted fierce,
Till ev'ry Limb was batter'd and with Toil
Forespent: Then flying on a craggy Cliff
We mounted, bearing on our Heads and Eyes
The bloody Marks of Violence and Strife.
There more at Ease the Battle we renew'd
From the high Rocks, and batter'd them with Stones,
But thence the Archers standing on the Deck
Soon drove us, and compell'd us to retire.
Mean while (for then a mighty Wave roll'd in,
Wafting the Gally nearer to the Shore)
Orestes boldly plunging in the Sea
(The Crew all seeming fearfull and unwilling)
His Sister seiz'd, and placing on his Back,
Safe thro' the Waves transported her aboard.
Then too the Statue of the Jove-born Maid,
The sacred Image, that fell down from Heav'n,
In the Mid-Gally utter'd thus her Voice:

229

“Haste, haste, ye jovial Mariners of Greece,
“Now ply your Oars, and spread the Waves with Foam:
“Now have we gain'd those Points for which we sail'd
“The stormy Euxine and dire Bosphorus!”
Whereat the Crew, forth carolling at once
Their toil-begotten Note, each other chear'd,
And beat with lusty Oars the dashing Brine;
While yet within the Bay the Gally swam,
She ran a head amain, but passing out,
A mighty Swell she met, that heav'd her back;
And a brisk Gale arising suddenly
Still lock'd her in the Port, while all in vain
The struggling Oar essay'd to stem the Wave,
That drove them ever backward on the Shore.
Then stood the Daughter of Atrides forth,
And to Diana thus address'd her Pray'r:
“O Daughter of Latona, save me, save
“Thy Priestess, flying from this barb'rous Land
“To her own native Greece, and O forgive
“My pious Theft! Thou, Goddess, lov'st thy Brother,
“Allow me then to love my Brother too!”

230

To this the Virgin's Pray'r the Sailors all
Reply'd with Pæans loud, and to the Oar
Their broad bare Arms applying, toil'd and sung.
Yet nearer to the Rocks the Gally drew:
Which noting, some into the Billows plung'd,
While some more prudent got their Anchors out.
Mean time I hither was dispatch'd, O King,
To make Relation of these strange Events.
Then haste, provide us Manacles and Chains!
For if the Waves abate not of their Rage,
All Hopes of Safety to the Greeks are lost.
The Ruler of the Sea is Ilion's Friend,
The Foe profess'd to the whole Race of Pelops,
And will again deliver to our Hands,
As is most meet, the Son of Agamemnon,
With his false Sister; who no longer seems
To bear in Mind the Sacrifice in Aulis.

Cho.
Unhappy Iphigenia, thou, alas!
Thou and thy Brother, should our mighty Lord
Once more attach you, must together perish.

Tho.
Natives of Scythia, all, attend my Summons!
Why mount ye not your Steeds, and on the Shore
Fly to receive the Freight of this Greek Vessel
Now cast upon our Coast? Diana's self
Shall lend you Wings to chace these impious Wretches.
Haste others, and with speed launch your swift Barks,
That whether on the Land or Ocean seiz'd

231

We may or cast them headlong from the Rocks,
Or fix their Bodies on the painful Stake.
For you, th'Accomplices of these vile Schemes,
Ye wretched Women, when Occasion fits,
You shall receive your Punishment. At present
Affairs of greater haste demand our Care.

Minerva descends.
Min.
Hold, Thoas! whither hastest thou to lead
Thy furious Squadrons? List! Minerva speaks.
Stay thy Pursuit! nor rouze the Waves of War!

232

For by Apollo's Oracles enjoin'd
Orestes hither came, to shun at once
The persecuting Furies' vengeful Ire,
His Sister back to Argos to convey,

233

And to my City bear the sacred Image.
Thus much to thee, O Thoas; as for him,
Whom intercepted by the swelling Surge
Thou thoughtest to have slain, the young Orestes,
Him o'er the level and unruffled Deep
At my Request hath Neptune wafted far.
And now, Orestes, listen to my Voice!
(Tho' absent thou canst hear the Voice divine)
Proceed now with thy Sister and the Goddess:
But when to Heav'n-built Athens thou shalt come,
There on her utmost Confines is a Spot,
Adjoining to the high Carystian Shore,
Deem'd holy, and my People call it Alæ:
There shalt thou raise a Temple, and enshrine

234

The heav'nly Image, which shall bear the Name
Of Scythian Artemis, to future Times
A lasting Monument of all the Woes
Which in thy devious Travels thou didst bear,
When the fell Furies hunted thee thro' Greece.
There Mortals shall henceforth their Off'rings bring,
And celebrate in Hymns the Taurick Maid.
This Custom also shalt thou institute,
That when my People hold the solemn Feast
Memorial of thy having here escap'd
The deadly Altar, shall a Man be brought,
And to his Throat the sacrificing Knife
The Pontiff shall present, and draw his Blood
An Off'ring to the Goddess, that she lose
No Portion of her customary Honours.
There also, Iphigenia, still shalt thou
Continue on her Altars to attend,
The Guardian of the rich Brauronian Shrine.
And there, when thou art dead, shalt thou be laid,
And to thy Tomb, as Off'rings, shall be brought
Silk-broider'd Mantles of all curious Woofs,
Such as unhappy Matrons, in the Pangs
Of Travail dying, shall behind them leave.
Moreover, this Injunction do I lay
On thee, Orestes, from this barb'rous Land
That to their Homes thou bring these Grecian Women:
An equitable Law; for I preserv'd

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Thy Life, and in thy Favour Sentence gave,
When at thy Trial on the Hill of Mars
The Votes were equal found; and 'tis my Will
That in whatever Cause the Votes henceforth
In Number shall be equal, on the Side
Of Mercy shall the Judgment be presum'd.
And, Son of Agamemnon, now sail on!
Sail with thy Sister from this barb'rous Shore!
And thou, O Thoas! mitigate thy Rage.

Tho.
O Pallas! mighty Goddess! heav'nly Queen!
Fond and unwise is he, who doth refuse
To hearken to the high Behests of Heav'n.
Nor 'gainst Orestes, tho' he bear from hence
The venerable Image of our Goddess,
Nor 'gainst his Sister, in my Breast henceforth
Shall harbour any Rage! For mortal Man
To struggle with the mighty Gods, is vain.
Then may they safely to thy Land transport
The sacred Image, and enshrine it there.
And farther in Obedience to thy Voice,
These Women will I send to Heav'n-lov'd Greece,
And lay aside the Spear and hostile Bark,
Prepar'd the flying Greeks to intercept,
Whatever thou commandest, I applaud.
It is most meet that Heav'n's high Will prevail.

Min.
Go, gentle Gales, and favourably waft,
Waft young Orestes to th'Athenian Shore!

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Myself will also go with you along,
In Person to convoy my Sister's Image.
And, Mortals, ye whom Heav'n's protecting Hand
Hath wonderfully sav'd, depart in Joy!

[Minerva re-ascends.
Cho.
Virgin Pallas! Child of Jove!
By the Gods rever'd above!
And by Mortals fear'd below!
To thy sov'reign Will we bow!
Thy Behest, celestial Maid,
Shall with Rev'rence be obey'd!
Joys not ev'n in Hope attain'd
Hath thy heav'nly Voice ordain'd,
Virgin Pallas! Child of Jove,
Fear'd below, rever'd above!

The End of the Fifth Act.

237

THE TRIUMPHS OF THE GOUT.

[_]

Translated from the Greek of LUCIAN.

Tollere nodosam nescit Medicina Podagram.
Ovid.

238

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Goddess of the Gout.
Ocypus.
Physician.
Nurse.
Messenger.
Mountebanks.
Chorus.
Spirits.

Scene lies in Thebes.

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;

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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.
SCENE changes, and discovers the Chorus, consisting of of Gouty Men and Women, marching in Procession to the Temple of the Gout, with Musick and Dancing.
Chorus.

To tender Attis, beardless Boy,
The howling Phrygian Throng
On Cybele's high Mountain chant
Th'enthusiastick Song.

247

On yellow Tmolus' flow'ry Top
The Lydian Youth around
For Comus mix the warbling Voice
And Flute's melodious Sound.

With clashing Arms, in frantick Mood,
The mad Idæan Train
Attemper to the Cretan Dance
Their holy ritual Strain.

To Mars, the furious God of War,
The swelling Trumpets breathe,
Preluding to contentious Strife,
To Battle, Blood, and Death.

But we, O Gout, afflictive Pow'r!
We thy sad Votaries,
In Sighs and Groans to thee perform
Our annual Sacrifice:

When usher'd by the blushing Hours
The genial Spring appears;
And ev'ry Flow'r-embroider'd Vale
Its verdant Mantle wears:

When Zephyr on each pregnant Tree
Calls forth the tender Leaves;
And her sad Nest the Swallow builds
Beneath the friendly Eaves:

248

When in the Grove, at Midnight Hour,
Disconsolate, alone,
For Itys lost th'Athenian Bird
Renews her plaintive Moan.

[Exit Chorus.

Scene, A Chamber.

Ocypus solus.
Ocyp.
Come, O my Comfort, my Supporter, come,
My Staff, my third best Leg, O! now uphold
My tott'ring Footsteps, and direct my Way,
That lightly on the Earth my Foot may tread.
Wretch, from thy Pallet raise thy heavy Limbs,
And quit the cover'd Closeness of the Room.
Dispell the Cloud, that weighs thy Eyelids down,
In open Day, and in the golden Sun
On purer Air thy enliven'd Spirit feast.
For now my willing Mind invites me forth;
But the weak Flesh refuses to comply.
Be resolute, my Soul; for well thou know'st,

249

The Gouty Wretch, that wou'd but cannot move,
Ought to be number'd with th'inactive Dead.
Come on.

Exit Ocypus.
Scene changes.
Enter Ocypus, who discovers the Chorus before a Temple offering Sacrifices to the Gout, with Musick and Dancing. Dance.
Ocyp.
—But who are they, whose Hands with Crutches fill'd,
Whose tossing Heads with Eldern Garlands bound,
Seem in wild Dance some Feast to celebrate?
Do they to thee, Apollo, Pæns sing?
Then wou'd the Delphick Laurel shade their Brows.
Or chant they rather Bacchanalian Hymns?
Then wou'd their Temples be with Ivy wreath'd.
Whence are ye, Strangers? speak: the Truth declare.
Declare, O Friends, what Deity ye worship.

Cho.
But who art thou, that mak'st us this Demand?
Thou too, as from thy Crutch may be inferr'd,
And hobbling Pace, thou art a Votary
Of the Invincible Divinity.

Ocyp.
I am; nor am unworthy of the Name.

Chorus.

When Cyprian Venus, Queen of Love,
In pearly Dews fell from above,

450

Nereus amass'd her scatter'd Frame,
And form'd the fair-proportion'd Dame.

Fast by the Fountains of the Deep,
Where on their Owze the Surges sleep,
On her broad Bosom Tethys laid
The Partner of Jove's Regal Bed.

Minerva, Virgin bold and wise,
From the great Monarch of the Skies,
Saturnian Jove, her Birth receiv'd,
In his immortal Brain conceiv'd.

But old Ophion, hoary God,
Our Goddess first embrac'd;
First in his fond Paternal Arms
The mighty Infant plac'd.

What Time primæval Chaos ceas'd,
And Night eternal fled;
Bright rose the Morning, and the Sun
His new-born Radiance shed.

Then from the Womb of Fate sprung forth
The Gout's tremendous Pow'r,
Heav'n with portentous Thunders rung,
And hail'd her natal Hour.

251

Clotho receiv'd and swath'd the Babe,
Thence at the streaming Breast
Of Wealth by fost'ring Plutus fed,
Her awfull Force increas'd.

Ocyp.
Say by what Rites mysterious to her Altar
Doth the dread Pow'r her Votaries admit?

Cho.
Nor with the biting Steel ourselves we wound,
Or sprinkle with our Blood the hallow'd Ground:
Nor are our Necks with galling Collars worn;
Or livid Backs with sounding Scourges torn:
Nor at the Altar, when the Victim dies,
Gorge we the raw and bleeding Sacrifice:
But when the Spring the rising Sap impells,
And the young Elm with genial Moisture swells,
When in the Hedges on the budding Spray
The Blackbird modulates her various Lay:
Then unperceiv'd she drives her piercing Dart,
And wounds the inmost Sense with secret Smart;
The Hip, the nervous Thigh, the Ankles swell,
The bending Knee, and firm supporting-Heel:
The strong-knit Shoulder and the sinewy Arm,
And Hand mechanick feel th'intestine Harm,
Thro' ev'ry Joint the thrilling Anguish pours,
And gnaws, and burns, and tortures, and devours;
Till Length of Suff'ring the dire Pow'r appease,
And the fierce Torments at her bidding cease.

252

Ocyp.
Unweeting then her Votary am I:
Thou, Goddess, gentle and benign, approach!
And I, with these thy Vot'ries, will begin
Thy sacred, solemn, customary Song.

[Dance.
Chorus.
Thou Air, be still, thou, Sky serene;
Thy Groans, thou, gouty Wretch, forbear,
Propt on her Staff, behold the Queen
Deigns at our Altars to appear!

[The Goddess of the Gout descends or enters.
Chorus.
Hail! gentlest of the heav'nly Pow'rs!
Propitious on thy Servants smile;
And grant in Spring's fermenting Hours
A quick Deliv'rance from our Toil.

Godd.
Lives there on Earth to whom I am unknown,
Unconquerable Queen of mighty Woes?
Whom nor the fuming Censer can appease,
Nor Victim's Blood on blazing Altars pour'd.
Me not Apollo's Self with all his Drugs,
High Heav'n's divine Physician, can subdue;
Nor his learn'd Son, wife Æsculapius.
Yet ever since the Race of Man begun,
All have essay'd my Fury to repell,
Racking th'Invention of still-baffled Physick.
Some this Receipt 'gainst me, some that explore.
Plantane they bruise, the Parsley's odorous Herb,
The lenient Lettice, and the Purslain wild.
These bitter Horehound, and the watry Plant

253

That on the verdant Banks of Rivers grows;
Those Nettles crush, and Comfrey's viscid Root,
And pluck the Lentils in the standing Pools.
Some Parsnips, some the glossy Leaf apply
That shades the downy Peach, benumming Henbane,
The Poppies soothing Gum, th'emollient Bulb,
Rind of the Punick Apple, Fleawort hot,
The costly Frankincense, and searching Root
Of potent Hellebore, soft Fenugreek
Temper'd with Rosy Wine, Collamphacum,
Nitre and Spawn of Frogs, the Cypress-Cone,
And Meal of bearded Barley, and the Leaf
Of Colworts unprepar'd, and Ointments made
Of pickled Garus, and (O vain Conceit!)
The Dung of Mountain-Goats, and human Ordure,
The Flow'r of Beans, and hot Sarcophagus.
The pois'nous Ruddock some, and Shrew-Mouse boil,
The Weasel some, the Frog, the Lizard green,
The fell Hyæna, and the wily Fox,
And branching Stone-buck bearded like a Goat.
What kind of Metals have ye left untry'd?
What Juice? what weeping Tree's medic'nal Tear?
What Beasts? what Animals have not bestow'd
Their Bones, or Nerves, or Hides, or Blood, or Marrow,

254

Or Milk, or Fat, or Excrement, or Urine?
The Draught of Four Ingredients some compose,
Some Eight, but more from Seven expect Relief;
Some from the purging Hiera seek their Cure,
On mystick Verses vainly some depend;
The tricking Jew gulls other Fools with Charms;
While to the cooling Fountains others fly,
And in the crystal Current seek for Health.
But to all these fell Anguish I denounce,
To all who tempt me ever more severe.
But they who patiently my Visit take,
Nor seek to combat me with Anodynes,
Still find me gentle and benevolent.
For in my Rites whoe'er participates,
His Tongue with Eloquence I straight endow,
And teach him with facetious Wit to please,
A merry, gay, jocose Companion boon:
Round whom the noisy Croud incessant laugh,
As to the Baths the crippled Wretch is borne.
For that dire Até, of whom Homer sings,
That dreaded pow'rfull Deity am I:
Who on the Heads of Men insulting tread,
And silent, soft, and unobserv'd approach.
But as from me the acid Drop descends,
The Drop of Anguish, I the Gout am call'd.
Now then, my Vot'ries all, my Orgies sing,
And praise with Hymns th'unconquerable Goddess.

255

Chorus.

Hear stubborn Virgin, fierce and strong,
Impracticable Maid!
O listen to our holy Song!
And grant thy Servants Aid!

Thy Pow'r, imperious Dame, dismays
The Monarch of the Dead,
And strikes the Ruler of the Seas,
And thund'ring Jove with Dread.

Thee soft reposing Beds delight
And Flannels warm Embrace,
And bandag'd Legs nor swift in Flight,
Nor Victors in the Race.

Thy Flames the tumid Ankles feel,
The Finger maim'd, the burning Heel,
And Toe that dreads the Ground.
Thy Pains unclos'd our Eyelids keep,
Or grant at best tumultuous Sleep
And Slumbers never sound.

Thy Cramps our Limbs distort,
Thy Knots our Joints invade:
Such is thy cruel Sport!
Inexorable Maid!

Enter Messenger with two Mountebanks bound.
Mes.
O! Mistress, opportunely art thou met.
Attend; no vain or idle Tale I bring.

256

But well supported by authentick Facts.
As thro' the Town (for so thou didst enjoin)
With slow and gentle Pace I lately rang'd;
Searching if haply I might chance to find
A Mortal bold enough to brave thy Pow'r;
There quiet all, and patient I beheld,
Subdu'd, O Goddess, by thy mighty Arm.
All but these two presumptuous daring Wretches,
Who to the gaping Crowd with Oaths deny'd
To pay due Reverence to thy Deity,
Boasting that they wou'd banish thee from Earth:
Wherefore with Fetters strong their Legs I bound
And after five Days March have brought them hither,
A weary March of twice Five hundred Feet.

Godd.
Swift hast thou come, my winged Messenger,
Say, from what Regions, thro' what rugged Paths,
Hast thou thy tedious longsome Way pursu'd?
Explain, that I may comprehend thy Speed?

Mes.
Five Stairs, whose weak and dislocated Frame
Trembled beneath my Tread, descending down,
First to the level Pavement I arriv'd,
That 'gainst my Feet its jarring Surface turn'd;
Which having with uneasy Footsteps cross'd,
I enter'd next the rough and flinty Street,
Whose pointed Stones the Gouty Foot abhors:
Here meeting with a smooth, tho' slipp'ry Path,
I hurried on, but with back-sliding Haste,
The trodden Slime my tott'ring Ankle turn'd.

257

Thus as I journey'd, down on ev'ry Side
The streaming Sweat descended, and my Legs
Faint and relax'd no longer firmly trod.
Thence lab'ring in each Limb, and overtoil'd,
A broad, but dang'rous Way receiv'd me next:
For on each Hand the whirling Chariots flew,
And urg'd, and press'd, and drove me faster on:
But I with nimble Action ply'd my Feet,
And quick into an Alley stept aside,
Till ev'ry rattling hasty Wheel was pass'd.
For, as to thee, O Goddess, I belong'd,
Thy Votary, I ought not, cou'd not run.

Godd.
Servant, thou hast not well perform'd in vain,
Nor shall thy prompt Obedience want Reward.
In Recompence this pleasing Boon receive,
Three Years of light and gentler Pains to bear.
But ye, most impious Heav'n-abandon'd Villains,
What and whence are ye, that so proudly dare
The Lists to enter with the mighty Gout,
Whose Pow'r not Jove himself can overcome?
Speak, Wretches—Many a Hero have I tam'd,
As all the wise and learn'd can testify.
Priam was gouty, as old Poets sing,

258

And by the Gout the swift Achilles fell.
Bellerophon, and Thebes' unhappy Lord,
The mighty Oedipus, my Prowess own'd,
And, of maim'd Pelops' Race, young Plisthenes.
He too, who led to Troy his warriour Bands,
The halting Son of Pæas, felt my Dart,
And by my Dart the Lord of Ithaca,
Not by the pois'nous Trygon's Bone expir'd.
Wherefore, ill-fated Wretches, be assur'd,
Your wicked Deeds shall meet their due Reward.

1st Mo.
Syrians we are, in fair Damascus born,
But urg'd by Want and hungry Poverty,
O'er Earth and Sea like Vagabonds we roam,
And with this Ointment, which our Father gave,
We comfort and relieve the Sick and Lame.

Godd.
What is your Ointment, say, and how prepar'd?

2d Mo.
We dare not tell, to Secrecy oblig'd
Both by the solemn Oath of our Profession,
And last Injunctions of a dying Father;
Who charg'd us to conceal the pow'rfull Virtue
Of this our Med'cine, whose strong Efficacy,
O Gout, can e'en thy madding Fires allay.

259

Godd.
Ha! miserable Wretches, say ye so?
Is there on Earth a Med'cine, whose Effect
My Pow'r is not sufficient to controul?
Come on, upon this Issue let us join.
Let us experience now the Prevalence
Of your strong Med'cine or my raging Flames.
Hither, tormenting Spirits, who preside
O'er my distracting Sorrows, hither come.

Spirits descend.
Godd.
Thou from the tender Sole to ev'ry Toe
Round all the Foot the burning Anguish spread.
Thou in the Heel shalt settle, from the Thigh
Thou on the Knee shalt pour the bitter Drop.
And each of you a Finger shall torment.

Spi.
Behold, O Queen, thy Orders are perform'd.
See! where the Wretches maim'd and roaring lie,
Their Limbs distorted with our fierce Attack.

Godd.
Now, Friends, inform us of the Truth; declare
If ought your boasted Ointment now avail.
For if my Forces it indeed subdue,
Far, to the dark Recesses of the Earth,
The Depths profound of Tartarus I'll fly,
Henceforth unknown, unhonour'd, and unseen.

1st Mo.
Behold the Ointment is apply'd! but, oh!
The Flames relent not. Oh! I faint, I die!
A secret Poison all my Leg consumes.

260

Not so pernicious is the Bolt of Jove:
Nor rages so the wild tempestuous Sea:
Nor more resistless is the Lightning's Blast.
Sure three-mouth'd Cerberus my Sinews gnaws:
Or on my Flesh some pois'nous Viper preys;
Or to my Limbs th'envenom'd Mantle clings,
Drench'd in the Centaur's black malignant Gore!
O Queen, have Mercy! freely we acknowledge
That, nor our Ointment, nor ought else on Earth,
Thy unresisted Fury can restrain,
O mighty Conqueress of human Kind!

Ocyp.
“I too, O potent Goddess, Grace implore.
“Once in the wanton Pride of vig'rous Youth,
“Vain of my beauteous Limbs, and active Strength
“I mock'd thy Dolours, and thy Pow'r defy'd.
“But now chastis'd by thy afflictive Arm,
“And by thy nearer Influence subdu'd,
“My impious Vaunts, O Goddess, I retract,
“Adore thy Might, and deprecate thy Wrath.”

261

Godd.
Spirits, forbear, and mitigate their Woes.
See they repent 'em of the dire Contention.
Now let the World confess my stubborn Pow'r,
Nor mov'd by Pity, nor by Drugs subdu'd.

Goddess and Spirits re-ascend.]
Cho.

In vain with mimick Flames Salmoneus strove
To emulate the Bolts of thund'ring Jove;
To deepest Hell with scorching Light'ning driv'n,
Too late he own'd the stronger Pow'r of Heav'n.

The Satyr Marsyas blew his boastfull Reed,
And, Phœbus, strike, he cry'd, thy rival Strings.
Stript of his Skin he mourns the impious Deed,
While round the bleeding Trophy Pythius sings.

Robb'd of her Children, in eternal Woe,
In Streams eternal while her Sorrows flow,
Sad Niobe laments the fatal Hour,
That urg'd her to provoke Latona's Pow'r.

262

Thee, Pallas, skill'd in ev'ry Work divine,
Foolish Arachne at the Loom defy'd;
Incessant thence she draws the filmy Twine,
Memorial of her fond presumptuous Pride.

Taught by the Veng'ance of the Gods above,
Latona, Pallas, Pythian Phœbus, Jove,
To Mortals be this sage Instruction giv'n,
“That Man, tho' bold, is not a Match for Heav'n.”

[Dance.
Cho.

O awfull Gout, whose universal Sway
The trembling Nations of the Earth obey,
Our Torments, gracious Sov'reign, O assuage!
Be short our Pangs, be moderate thy Rage!

Many, various are the Woes
That this Scene of Life compose,
Use with reconciling Balm
Can our throbbing Sorrows calm;
Can our sharpest Pains beguile,
And bid Gouty Wretches smile.
Hence, Companions of my Care,
Learn with patient Hearts to bear,
To expect with Souls unmov'd
Ills, ye have already prov'd.

263

If severer Woes invade,
Heav'n will grant ye Strength and Aid.
Who, impatient of his Pain,
Bites, and gnaws, and shakes the Chain,
Laughter he, and Scorn shall move.
Such is the Decree of Jove.

265

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE ARGONAUTICKS OF APOLLONIUS RHODIUS.

267

THE Song of Orpheus, AND THE Setting out of the Argo.

Then too the jarring Heroes to compose
Th'inchanting Bard, Oeagrian Orpheus rose,
And thus, attuning to the trembling Strings:
His soothing Voice, of Harmony he sings.

In the Beginning how Heav'n, Earth, and Sea
In one tumultuous Chaos blended lay;

268

Till Nature parted the conflicting Foes,
And beauteous Order from Disorder rose:
How roll'd incessant o'er th'etherial Plain
Move in eternal Dance the Starry Train;
How the pale Orb of Night, and golden Sun,
Thro' Months and Years their radiant Journeys run;
Whence rose the Mountains clad with waving Woods,
The rushing Rivers; and resounding Floods,
With all their Nymphs; from what celestial Seed
The various Tribes of Animals proceed.
Next how Ophion held his ancient Reign,
With his fam'd Consort, Daughter of the Main:
On high Olympus' snowy Head enthron'd,
The new-created World their Empire own'd:
Till Force superior, and successless War
Divested of their Crowns the regal Pair;
On Saturn's Head Ophion's Honours plac'd,
And with his Consort's Glories Rhea grac'd.
Thence to old Ocean's watry Kingdoms hurl'd
Thus they resign'd the Scepter of the World:
And Saturn rul'd the bless'd Titanian Gods,
While Infant Jove possess'd the dark Abodes
Of Dicte's Cave; his Mind yet uninform'd
With heav'nly Wisdom, and his Hand unarm'd:
Forg'd by the Cyclops, Earth's Gigantick Race,
Flam'd not as yet the Lightning's scorching Blaze,

269

Nor roar'd the Thunder thro' the Realms above,
The Strength and Glory of Almighty Jove.

This said, the tunefull Bard his Lyre unstrung,
And ceas'd th'inchanting Musick of his Tongue.
But with the Sound entranc'd th'attentive Ear
Thought him still singing, still stood fix'd to hear.
In silent Rapture ev'ry Chief remains,
And feels within his Heart the thrilling Strains.
Forthwith the Bowl they crown with rosy Wine,
And pay due Honours to the Pow'r divine.
The pure Libations on the Fire they pour,
While rising Flames the mystick Tongues devour.

Now fable Night ascends her starry Throne,
And Argo's Chiefs her drowsy Influence own.
But when the bright-ey'd Morning rear'd her Head,
And look'd o'er Pelion's Summits ting'd with Red;
Light skimm'd the Breezes o'er the watry Plain,
And gently swell'd the fluctuating Main.
Then Tiphys rose, and summon'd by his Care
Embark the Heroes, and their Oars prepare.

270

Portentous now along the winding Shores
Hoarse-sounding Pagasæan Neptune roars.
Impatient Argo the glad Signal took,
While from her vocal Keel loud Murmurs broke;
Her Keel of sacred Oak divinely wrought
Itonian Pallas from Dodona brought.

On their allotted Posts now rang'd along
In seemly Order sat the princely Throng:
Fast by each Chief his glitt'ring Armour flames;
The midmost Station bold Ancæus claims,
With great Alcides, whose enormous Might
Arm'd with a massy Club provokes the Fight,
Now plac'd beside him: in the yielding Flood
The Keel deep-sinking feels the Demi-God.

Their Hausers now they loose, and on the Brine
To Neptune pour the consecrated Wine.
Then from his native Shores sad Jason turns
His oft-reverted Eye, and silent mourns.
As in Ortygia, or the Delphick Fane,
Or where Ismenus laves Bœotia's Plain,
Apollo's Altars round, the youthfull Choir,
The Dance according with the sounding Lyre,
The hallow'd Ground with equal Cadence beat,
And move in Measure their harmonious Feet;

271

Together so Thessalia's Princes sweep
With well-tim'd Oars the silver-curling Deep.
While, raising high the Thracian Harp, presides
Melodious Orpheus and the Movement guides.
On either Side the dashing Surges broke,
And fierce remurmur'd to each mighty Stroke;
Thick flash the brazen Arms with streaming Light,
While the swift Bark pursues her rapid Flight,
And ever as the Sea-green Tide she cleaves,
Foams the long Track behind, and whitens all the Waves:
So shines the Path, across some verdant Plain
Trac'd by the Footsteps of the Village Swain.

Jove on that Day from his celestial Throne,
And all th'immortal Pow'rs of Heav'n look'd down,
The Godlike Chiefs and Argo to survey
As thro' the Deep they urg'd their daring Way.
Then too on Pelion's cloud-top'd Summits stood
The Nymphs and Fauns and Sisters of the Wood,
With Wonder viewing the tall Pine below,
That shaded once the Mountain's shaggy Brow,
Now fram'd by Pallas o'er the sounding Sea
Thessalia's mighty Heroes to convey.
But, lo! from Pelion's highest Clift descends,
And downward to the Sea his Footsteps bends
The Centaur Chiron; on the Beach he stood
And dip'd his Fetlocks in the hoary Flood.

227

Then waving his broad hand, the Bark he hales,
And speeds with prosp'rous Vows the parting Sails.
With him advanc'd his Consort to the Shore;
The young Achilles in her Arms she bore:
Then raising high in Air the pleasing Load,
To his fond Sire the smiling Infant shew'd.

273

The Story of Phineus.

The following Day Bithynia's Coast they reach,
And fix their Hausers to the shelt'ring Beach.
There on the Margin of the beating Flood
The mournful Mansions of sad Phineus stood,
Agenor's Son; whom Heav'n ordain'd to bear
The grievous Burden of unequall'd Care.
For taught by wise Apollo to descry
Th'unborn Events of dark Futurity,
Vain of his Science the presumptuous Seer
Deign'd not Jove's awfull Secrets to revere;
But wantonly divulg'd to frail Mankind
The sacred Purpose of th'omniscient Mind.
Hence Jove indignant gave him length of Days,
But quench'd in endless Shade his visual Rays.
Nor would the vengefull God permit him taste
The chearful Blessings of the genial Feast;
Tho' the large Tribute of the Nations round
Their Prophet's Board with Wealth and Plenty crown'd.
For, lo! descending sudden from the Sky,
Round the pil'd Banquet shrieking Harpies fly,
Who with rapacious Claws incessant tear
Forth from his famish'd Lips th'untasted Fare.

274

Yet would some slender Pittance oft remain,
What might suffice to keep up Life and Pain.
But then such Odours the foul Scraps exhal'd,
That with the Stench the loathing Stomach fail'd.
Aloof the hungry Guests and wondring stood
While their sick Hearts abhorr'd the putrid Food.

But now the princely Crew approaching near,
The welcome Sound invades the Prophet's Ear.
Taught by th'inspiring God that now was come
The long-wish'd Period of Heav'n's vengefull Doom,
That by these Heroe's destin'd Aid restor'd,
Peace shou'd thenceforward bless his feastfull Board.
Then heaves he from the Couch his haggard Head,
Like some pale, lifeless, visionary Shade,
And leaning on his Staff with fault'ring Steps,
Along the Walls his Way exploring creeps.
Diseas'd, enfeebled, and by Age unbrac'd,
Trembled his tott'ring Limbs as forth he pass'd.
Shrunk was his Form, adust with Want and Care,
And bursting thro' his Hide the pointed Bones appear.
But faint and breathless as he reach'd the Gate,
Down on the Threshold over-toil'd he sate.
In dizzy Fumes involv'd his Brain runs round,
And swims beneath his Feet the solid Ground.
No more their Functions the frail Senses keep,
And speechless sinks the Seer in death-like Sleep.

275

This saw the Chiefs amaz'd, and gather'd round;
When from his labouring Lungs a hollow Sound,
With Breath and Utt'rance scarce recover'd broke,
And thus th'enlighten'd Seer prophetick spoke:

“Princes of Greece, attend; if ye be they
Whom o'er the Main Thessalia's Pines convey,
And Jason leads to Colchos' magick Land,
Such is your cruel Tyrant's stern Command.
Yes, ye be they; for yet my mental Eye
Undim'd past, present, future, can descry.
Thanks to thy Son, Latona, who bestows
This Grace, this only Solace of my Woes.
By Jove, to whom the Suppliant's Cause belongs,
Who hates the Merc'less, who avenges Wrongs,
By Phœbus, by Saturnia Wife of Jove,
By all the bless'd immortal Pow'rs above,
Who lead you o'er the Main with watchfull Care,
O help! O save from Famine and Despair
A Wretch ill-fated, to Affliction born,
Nor leave me here unpitied, and forlorn.
For not these Orbs alone depriv'd of Sight
Vindictive Heav'n hath veil'd in dolefull Night;
But to extreme old Age his cruel Law
Dooms me th'unwasting Thread of Life to draw.
Nor end my Sorrows here; a heavy Chain
Of Woes succeeds, and Pain still link'd to Pain.

276

From secret Haunts aërial, unexplor'd,
Flights of devouring Harpies vex my Board.
Swift, instantaneous, sudden they descend
And from my Mouth the tastefull Morsel rend.
Mean while my troubled Soul with Woes oppress'd,
No Means of Aid, no Comfort can suggest.
For when the Feast I purpose to prepare,
They see that Purpose, and prevent my Care.
But cloy'd and glutted with the luscious Spoil
With noisome Ordure parting they defile
Whate'er remains, if ought perchance remain,
That none approaching may the Stench sustain,
Tho' his strong Heart were wrapt in plated Mail,
The filthy Fragments such dire Steams exhale:
Yet me fell Hunger's all subduing Pain
Compells reluctant, loathing to remain;
Compells the deadly Odours to endure
And gorge the craving Maw with Food impure.
From these Invaders (so hath Fate decreed)
By Boreas' Offspring shall my Board be freed.
Nor on a Stranger to your House and Blood,
O Sons of Boreas, is your Aid bestow'd.
Phineus behold, Agenor's hapless Son,
Once for prophetick Skill and Riches known;
Who, while I sway'd the Thracian Sceptre, led
Your dower'd Sister to my spousal Bed.

277

Here Phineus ceas'd, each pitying Hero groans,
But chief, O Boreas, thy relenting Sons
Feel kind Compassion swelling in their Souls,
While down their Cheeks the gen'rous Torrent rolls.
Then Zetes near approaching, closely press'd
His Hand, and thus the lab'ring Seer address'd:

O most disastrous of all human Kind,
Whence sprung the Evils that o'erwhelm thy Mind?
Hast thou, intrusted with the Book of Fate,
By Folly merited celestial Hate?
Hence falls this Indignation on thy Head?
Fain wou'd the Sons of Boreas grant thee Aid;
Fain wou'd they execute what Heav'n ordains,
But awfull Dread their willing Hands restrains.
To frighted Mortals well thy Suff'rings prove,
How fierce the Vengeance of the Gods above.
Then swear, or never shall this righteous Sword,
Tho' drawn for thy Deliv'rance, aid afford,
Swear, that th'Assistance which our Arms shall lend,
Shall no immortal angry God offend.
He spoke; when straight tow'rd Heav'n disclosing wide
His sightless Balls, the Senior thus reply'd:

My Son, th'Injustice of thy Tongue restrain,
Nor let such Thoughts thy pious Soul profane:
By Phœbus, heav'nly Augur, who inspires
My conscious Bosom with prophetick Fires;

278

By this my wretched Lot of Woe and Care
These Eyes involv'd in dark'ning Clouds, I swear,
By the fell Dæmons of the Realms below,
Whom ever unpropitious may I know,
From their Resentments not in Death secure,
If falsly their dread Godheads I adjure:
That your assisting Hands shall never move
Wrath or Displeasure in the Pow'rs above.

Then acquiescing in the solemn Pray'r,
To aid the Prophet Boreas' Sons prepare.
The ready Youth a Banquet spread, the last
That those fell Harpies were decreed to taste:
Nigh stand the Brothers, ardent to oppose
With glitt'ring Faulchions their invading Foes.
But scarce the first sweet Morsel Phineus took,
When from the Clouds with swift Prevention broke,
Swift as the Light'ning's Glance, or stormy Blast
Whose rapid Fury lays the Forest waste,
Shrill clam'ring for their Prey the Birds obscene,
The watchfull Heroes shouting rush'd between;
But they with speediest Rage the Cates devour'd,
And round intolerable Odours pour'd;
Then o'er th'Ægean far away they flew;
Upspringing swift with threat'ning Blades pursue
The feather'd Chiefs. That Day Saturnius steel'd
Their vig'rous Nerves with Force untaught to yield;

279

And did not Jove their wearying Strength sustain,
Their flitting Pinions had they spread in vain:
For when to Phineus furious they repair,
Or quitting Phineus seek the Fields of Air,
The light-wing'd Monsters, fleeter than the Wind,
Leave the impetuous Zephyrs far behind.
As when the Hound experienc'd in the Chace,
Thro' some wide Forest o'er the scented Grass
A bounding Hind or horned Goat pursues,
And near his panting Prey and nearer views;
Eager he stretches the short Space to gain,
And snapping, grinds his gnashing Fangs in vain:
So ever-near th'insulting Chiefs pursu'd;
The Harpies so their catching Hands elude.
But now far off in the Sicilian Main,
By the wing'd Brothers, Sons of Boreas, slain,
The Race of Harpies (tho' Heav'n disallow'd)
Had stain'd the Plotian Isles with sacred Blood,
Their sore Distress had Iris not survey'd,
And darting from the Skies the Heroes staid.
O Sons of Boreas, the dread Laws above
Permit ye not to wound the Dogs of Jove.
And, lo! my Oath I pledge, that never more
Shall those fell Dogs approach Bithynia's Shore.
This said, adjuring the tremendous Floods,
Most fear'd, most honour'd by th'immmortal Gods:

280

By the slow-dripping Urn of Styx she swore,
The Prophet's peacefull Mansions evermore
From those rapacious Spoilers shou'd be free;
Such was the fatal Sisters' fixt Decree.
The Goddess sware, the Brothers straight obey,
And back to Argo wing their airy Way.
The Strophades from thence derive their Name,
The Plotian Islands styl'd by antient Fame.
Then part the Harpies and Thaumantian Maid,
In thousand various mingling Dyes array'd.
These to the Grots retir'd and dark Retreat
Of Dicte's Caverns in Minoian Crete.
While the gay Goddess of the watry Bow
Gain'd in a Moment high Olympus' Brow.

Mean while the Princes in the cleansing Wave
With purifying Rites the Senior lave.
Next from the Spoil, which on Bybrycia's Shore
From vanquish'd Amycus stern Pollux tore,
A Victim they select with pious Care;
And soothe the Gods with Sacrifice and Pray'r.
Then in the Palace each heroick Guest
Partakes the Pleasures of the sumptuous Feast.

281

With them sate Phineus, and refresh'd his Soul
With sav'ry Viands and the chearing Bowl.
Unsatiated he feeds, and bathes in Streams
Of Extasy beyond the Bliss of Dreams.

282

The Hymn of Cleanthes.

O under various sacred Names ador'd!
Divinity supreme! all-potent Lord!
Author of Nature! whose unbounded Sway
And Legislative Pow'r all Things obey!
Majestick Jove! all hail! To Thee belong
The suppliant Pray'r, and tributary Song:
To Thee from all thy mortal Offspring due;
From Thee we came, from Thee our Being drew;
Whatever lives and moves, great Sire! is thine,
Embodied Portions of the Soul divine.
Therefore to Thee will I attune my String,
And of thy wondrous Pow'r for ever sing.

283

The wheeling Orbs, the wandring Fires above,
That round this earthly Sphere incessant move,
Through all this boundless World admit thy Sway,
And roll spontaneous where thou point'st the Way.
Such is the Awe imprest on Nature round
When through the Void thy dreadful Thunders sound,
Those flaming Agents of thy matchless Pow'r:
Astonish'd Worlds hear, tremble, and adore.
Thus paramount to All, by All obey'd,
Ruling that Reason which thro' All convey'd
Informs this gen'ral Mass, Thou reign'st ador'd,
Supreme, unbounded, universal Lord.
For nor in Earth, nor earth-encircling Floods,
Nor yon æthereal Pole, the Seat of Gods,
Is ought perform'd without thy Aid divine;
Strength, Wisdom, Virtue, mighty Jove, are thine!
Vice is the Act of Man, by Passion tost,
And in the shoreless Sea of Folly lost.
But Thou, what Vice disorders, canst compose;
And profit by the Malice of thy Foes;
So blending Good with Evil, Fair with Foul,
As thence to model one harmonious Whole:
One universal Law of Truth and Right;
But wretched Mortals shun the heav'nly Light;
And, tho' to Bliss directing still their Choice,
Hear not, or heed not Reason's sacred Voice,
That common Guide ordain'd to point the Road
That leads obedient Man to solid Good.

284

Thence quitting Virtue's lovely Paths they rove,
As various Objects various Passions move.
Some thro' opposing Crowds and threatning War
Seek Pow'r's bright Throne, and Fame's triumphal Carr.
Some, bent on Wealth, pursue with endless Pain
Oppressive, sordid, and dishonest Gain:
While others, to soft Indolence resign'd,
Drown in corporeal Sweets th'immortal Mind.
But, O great Father, Thunder-ruling God!
Who in thick Darkness mak'st thy dread Abode!
Thou, from whose Bounty all good Gifts descend,
Do Thou from Ignorance Mankind defend!
The Clouds of Vice and Folly, O controul;
And shed the Beams of Wisdom on the Soul!
Those radiant Beams, by whose all-piercing Flame
Thy Justice rules this universal Frame.
That honour'd with a Portion of thy Light
We may essay thy Goodness to requite
With honorary Songs, and grateful Lays,
And hymn thy glorious Works with ceaseless Praise,
The proper Task of Man: and sure to sing
Of Nature's Laws, and Nature's mighty King
Is Bliss supreme. Let Gods with Mortals join!
The Subject may transport a Breast divine.

University of Virginia Library

ODES OF PINDAR.

Translated from the Greek.

[OLYMPICK ODES]

THE FIRST OLYMPICK ODE. [_] This Ode is inscribed to Hiero of Syracuse, who, in the Seventy third Olympiad, obtained the Victory in the Race of Single Horses.

ARGUMENT.

STROPHE I.

ANTISTROPHE I.

EPODE I.

STROPHE II.

ANTISTROPHE II.

EPODE II.

STROPHE III.

ANTISTROPHE III.

EPODE III.

STROPHE IV.

ANTISTROPHE IV.

EPODE IV.

STROPHE V.

ANTISTROPHE V.

EPODE V.

STROPHE VI.

ANTISTROPHE VI.

EPODE VI.

STROPHE VII.

ANTISTROPHE VII.

EPODE VII.

THE SECOND OLYMPICK ODE. [_] This Ode is inscribed to Theron King of Agrigentum, who came off Conqueror in the Race of Chariots drawn by Four Horses, in the Seventy seventh Olympiad.

ARGUMENT

STROPHE I.

ANTISTROPHE I.

EPODE I.

STROPHE II.

ANTISTROPHE II.

EPODE II.

STROPHE III.

ANTISTROPHE III.

EPODE III.

STROPHE IV.

ANTISTROPHE IV.

EPODE IV.

STROPHE V.

ANTISTROPHE V.

EPODE V.

THE THIRD OLYMPICK ODE. [_] This Ode is likewise inscribed to Theron King of Agrigentum, upon the Occasion of another Victory obtained by him in the Chariot-Race at Olympia; the Date of which is unknown.

ARGUMENT

STROPHE I.

ANTISTROPHE I.

EPODE I.

STROPHE II.

ANTISTROPHE II.

EPODE II.

STROPHE III.

ANTISTROPHE III.

EPODE III.

ARGUMENT.

STROPHE.

ANTISTROPHE.

EPODE

ARGUMENT.

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

THE FIRST OLYMPICK ODE.
[_]

This Ode is inscribed to Hiero of Syracuse, who, in the Seventy third Olympiad, obtained the Victory in the Race of Single Horses.

THE SECOND OLYMPICK ODE.
[_]

This Ode is inscribed to Theron King of Agrigentum, who came off Conqueror in the Race of Chariots drawn by Four Horses, in the Seventy seventh Olympiad.

THE THIRD OLYMPICK ODE.
[_]

This Ode is likewise inscribed to Theron King of Agrigentum, upon the Occasion of another Victory obtained by him in the Chariot-Race at Olympia; the Date of which is unknown.

THE TWELFTH. OLYMPICK ODE.
[_]

This Ode is inscribed to Ergoteles the Son of Philanor of Himera, who, in the Seventy seventh Olympiad, gained the Prize in the Foot-Race called Dolichos or the Long Course.

THE FOURTEENTH OLYMPICK ODE. MONOSTROPHAICK.
[_]

This Ode is inscribed to Asopchius, the Son of Cleodemus of Orchomenus; who, in the Seventy sixth Olympiad, gained the Victory in the simple Foot-Race, and in the Class of Boys.

THE FIRST PYTHIAN ODE.
[_]

This Ode is inscribed to Hiero of Ætna, King of Syracuse, who, in the Twenty ninth Pythiad (which answers to the Seventy eighth Olympiad) gained the Victory in the Chariot-Race.

THE FIRST NEMEAN ODE.
[_]

This Ode is inscribed to Chromius of Ætna (a City of Sicily) who gained the Victory in the Chariot-Race, in the Nemean Games.