Miscellanies in Verse and Prose :: :: University of Virginia Library

Alecto, in a general Assembly of the Furies, upbraids them with the Happiness the World enjoy'd under the excellent Administration of the Emperor Theodosius, and urges them to unite their Powers to throw all Things into Confusion. Megæra seconds the Motion, and, as the most effectual Means, proposes to introduce Rufinus into the Prince's Court. Her Advice is approv'd, and she proceeds to put it in Execution. His Avarice and Ambition strongly describ'd, and his Cruelty and Perfidiousness. Stilicho at last prepares to put a Stop to his Depredations. The two Characters finely oppos'd. Megæra insulting Justice upon Rufinus's Success and Conduct, the Goddess rebukes her Insolence, foretells Rufinus's sudden Fall, and the happy Consequences of it.

Oft has an anxious Doubt my Mind possest,
And fill'd with Tumult my debating Breast,
Whether the Gods direct the World below,
Or all Things by uncertain Fortune flow;

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For when I did the Course of Nature weigh,
The Bounds prescrib'd to the tempestuous Sea,
The Changes of the Year, of Night and Day;
Some Pow'r, I thought, administer'd the Whole,
Who bade the Stars by Laws appointed roll;
In sev'ral Seasons sev'ral Fruits arise;
With borrow'd Beams the Moon to chear the Skies,
While his own Light the radiant Sun supplies;
Who to the Waters set the Shore unpass'd,
And in mid Air the balanc'd Earth has plac'd.
But when I saw th'Affairs of Human-Kind
In Clouds involv'd, impervious to the Mind,
The Wicked flourishing, from Trouble free,
The Righteous vex'd with long Adversity,
Then Piety, again supplanted, fail'd,
And that wild Thought, unwillingly, prevail'd,
That, blindly moving, and without Design,
The Seeds of Things, help'd by no Pow'r Divine,
Roll'd thro' the Void, and, all at random hurl'd,
Assum'd new Figures, and compos'd the World;
While or no Gods there are, or none who know
How Things proceed, and interpose below.
At length Rufinus' Punishment dispell'd
The impious Thoughts, that in my Bosom swell'd;
And justify'd the Gods: I now complain
No more, that wicked Men triumphant reign:

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Rais'd up on high, they gain a guilty Crown,
To fall with more impetuous Ruin down.

Ye Sacred Muses, to your Bard disclose
Whence that dire Ill, and furious Pest arose.

Repining Malice fir'd Alecto's Breast,
To see the World in Peace securely blest;
In dreadful Senate strait she summons all
Her griesly Sisters to th'Infernal Hall.
The Plagues of Erebus unnumber'd come,
Which sullen Night bore from her hideous Womb:
Discord, the Nurse of War, fierce Famine's Rage,
And Death's decrepit Brother, sinking Age;
Sickness impatient of itself, and Spite,
And Grief with Garments rent, and sadden'd Sight;
Fear, and blind Rashness, Luxury, the Bane
Of Wealth, and Want still foll'wing in her Train;
With a long Race of ever-waking Cares,
Which sordid Av'rice in her Bosom bears.

On Iron Seats the grim Assembly plac'd,
Croud the dark Council from th'Infernal Waste.
Full in the midst the fierce Alecto stands,
And a deep Silence awfully commands;
Her hissing Snakes, in various Volumes twin'd,
From her fell Face the Fury cast behind,
And gave them to her Back; then from her Heart,
In wrathful Words she spoke her inward Smart.

And shall we thus permit, in lasting Rest,
Unnumber'd Nations to continue blest?

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Has Clemency our native Rage destroy'd?
And do's our inborn Cruelty subside?
What now avail the sounding Whips we bear,
The blazing Brands, that terribly we rear?
Our listless Crew, from Heav'n the Thund'rer drives;
On Earth Theodosius of all Pow'r deprives:
Behold again a Golden Age is born!
Behold again the antient Race return!
Concord and Virtue move with equal Pace,
And Piety and Truth erect their Face,
And proudly triumph o'er our vanquish'd Race.
See! swift descending from her native Skies,
Justice insults me with disdainful Eyes,
Invet'rate Vice from her deep Root she draws,
And from their Fetters frees th'encumber'd Laws.
Shall We for Ages thus, in Sloth Supine,
Cast from all Realms, disgracefully decline?
Assert yourselves, your wonted Pow'r assume,
And let your Deeds the Furies Race become.
Illustrious Acts of Horror now decree,
Worthy this awful Synod, worthy me.
I burn with Rage, against the Stars to play
Our Stygian Clouds, and mar the heav'nly Day;
To break the Bounds of the tempestuous Main,
To roll the Rivers o'er the ruin'd Plain;
And Nature's Course subvert. With Rage she speaks,
And opens all the Hissings of her Snakes,
And from her flaky Hair a livid Poyson shakes.

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A dubious Motion in the Croud appears;
Part for a War against the Gods declares,
Part urge their Sov'reign's Right: Debates arise,
And wild Dissention multiplies their Cries.

Thus when a Storm the troubled Deep has stirr'd,
And spent its Force, a murm'ring Sound is heard;
And on the working Waves remain behind
The hoarse Convulsions of the sinking Wind.

Then from her Seat, accurs'd Megæra rose,
From whom mad Tumult and Confusion flows,
Daring Impiety, and pining Gloom,
And wasteful Ire, that churns the rising Foam.
No Blood she tastes, but what a Father's Hand,
Or Brother's sheds, in Kindred Murder stain'd:
'Twas she with Frenzy struck Alcides' Breast,
Defil'd the Bow that gave the Nations Rest;
She guided Athamas's cruel Dart,
Of his own Son to pierce the guiltless Heart;
In Agamemnon's Palace pleas'd her Spite,
And in th'alternate Slaughters took Delight;
She lighted up the horrid Torch, that led
Dire OEdipus to seek his Mother's Bed;
'Twas she, Thyestes to his Daughter join'd:
With a fierce Tone she utters thus her Mind;

Against the Gods our Ensigns to display,
Nor Right nor Pow'r we have; a surer Way
To vex the World, and human Bliss confound,

That's your Choice, I can with Ease propound;

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A Monster I can boast, by far more fell
Than all the Hydra's that with Venom swell;
Than pregnant Tigers more to Rage inclin'd,
More false than Calms, and wilder than the Wind,
Rufinus; whom to vital Air disclos'd,
I first receiv'd, and on my Lap repos'd:
Around my Neck the new-born Infant prest
His clinging Arms, and crying sought the Breast.
Their Kindred Plague my curling Serpents knew,
And lick'd his Face, and form'd him as he grew.
I taught him Craft, and each destructive Art,
To hide his Passions, and disguise his Heart;
With a false Smile, and smooth-dissembled Meen,
To cover o'er the Frauds that lye within.
Barbarian Cruelty, and Lust of Gain
Possess his Soul, and in his Bosom reign.
Not all the Treasures in the Tagus roll'd,
Nor red Pactolus' Waves, that shine with Gold,
Nor Riches found in Hermus' noble Stream,
His boundless Appetite suffice to tame.
Greatly inform'd the heedless Mind to snare,
And antient Friends with mutual Malice tear:
Had the first Age of Men his Equal found,
The faithful Theseus had Perithous shun'd;
From Pylades, Orestes wou'd have fled,
And Pollux curs'd his sacred Brother's Head.
The prompt Disciple has improv'd so well,
I own, his Tutor he do's far excell;

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To summ the whole; his single Breast contains
Whatever Ill in all the Furies reigns.
Him, if you think it will effect our End,
I'll to the Prince's Royal Palace send;
Tho' wise as Numa or as Minos, still
My Foster-Son shall bend him to his Will.

Loud Shouts attend her Speech; the ghastly Crew
Approve the Thought, and with Applause pursue.
When she with Diamond Knots her Hair had bound,
And with a Snake her Vesture gather'd round,
She sought re-sounding Phlegethon, and stood
Upon the Borders of the burning Flood;
There in the pitchy Waves, with hasty Hand,
Plung'd a huge Pine, and fires the hissing Brand;
Involv'd with Darkness then her Wings she spread,
Along the Regions of the slothful Dead.

A Place there lies on Gallia's utmost Shore,
Where rising Billows rage, and vainly roar;
With Steams of Blood, where sage Ulysses drew
The hov'ring Ghosts, and fed their hungry Crew;
Whence sad Complaints and lamentable Cries
Of gliding Spirits oft are heard to rise;
And oft the Swains behold, with dire Affright,
Pale Phantoms stalk, and Spectres of the Night.
From hence the Fury, with a griesly Meen,
Baleful sprung forth, and blasts the Light serene;
With deadly Screams she breaks th'infected Air;
Britannia felt the Clangor from afar;

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At the shrill Yell, the Gallic Meadows quake,
The Towns re-echo, and the Cities shake;
The Tide rolls backward, and suspends the Sea;
And in his Urn, the Rhine retreated lay.
Her Serpents change themselves to hoary Hairs,
An old Man's Form the crafty Demon bears,
And on her famish'd Face deep Wrinkles wears.
She feigns a feeble Pace, and stagg'ring go's,
And seeks Elusa, and the destin'd House;
O'erjoy'd she stood a while, to view the Man,
With livid Eyes, and thus at length began.

Shall shameful Sloth, Rufinus, thus consume
The glorious Promise of thy youthful Bloom?
Obscurely ling'ring in thy private Home.
Alas! thou know'st not what the Fates declare
In thy behalf, nor what thy Stars prepare.
To what I counsel, if thou wilt incline,
The whole Dominion of the World is thine:
Scorn not my Age, nor hastily despise
My Limbs decrepit, and my sinking Eyes;
All Magic Arts are mine; my prudent Breast
With the sure Gift of Præscience is possest:
I know the Songs of the Thessalian Train,
Which from the Skies the shining Moon constrain:
The Spells of Ægypt, the Chaldæan Skill,
By which the Gods are subject to their Will:
The deadly Juice of no pernicious Tree,
Or baneful Simple, is conceal'd from Me.

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What poys'nous Herbs on Caucasus arise,
And Scythian Rocks, to help the Witches Cries,
I understand; and ev'ry Plant that grows;
What dire Medea cull'd, and Circe chose.
The horrid Manes often, on the Lawn
To nightly Rites, with Hecate, I have drawn;
Produc'd the bury'd Dead to Life again;
The Living, tho' the Fates forbade, have slain,
And call'd deep-rooted Oaks across the Plain;
The rushing Thunder stay'd, and Rivers led,
With refluent Motion, to their Fountain's Head.
And, lest my Words shou'd be delusive thought,
Look round, and see what Changes I have wrought.
She said; at once the snowy Pillars turn
Of a bright Colour, and with Riches burn;
Refulgent Plates the glitt'ring Beams infold,
And all the Chamber glows with dazzling Gold.
The Charm succeeds: With fond deluded Eyes,
He views the Treasure, and affects the Prize.
So the vain King at first with Pride was swell'd,
As his increasing Treasures he beheld,
But when for Food he saw the Tables shine
With massy Metal, and with solid Wine,
He found the fatal Gift, and curs'd, too late,
His rash Petition, and the barren Plate.
Whoe'er thou art, or God or Man, the Way
Do thou direct, and gladly I obey,

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Exultingly he cries; and strait addrest,
At her Command, to reach the distant East.
The fear'd Symplegades he pass'd, the Streight
Renown'd of old for Jason's golden Freight;
Where the pleas'd Bosphorus surveys with Pride
Th'Imperial City glitt'ring on its Side,
And with its Stream divides the neighb'ring Bounds
Of Asian Meadows and the Thracian Grounds.

His Travel finish'd, to the crouded Court
Th'instructed Mischief makes his bold Resort:
Led by some Fate malignant, into Place
He creeps, and slides into the Prince's Grace.
From that curs'd Hour, Ambition rais'd her Head,
All Things were sold, and Right, supplanted, fled.
Intrusted Secrets basely he betrays,
Deceives his Clients, and his Skill displays;
Begs Honours of the Prince, and, void of Shame,
Sets them to Sale, and drives a sordid Game.
He doubles ev'ry Crime, and feeds with Art
A small Displeasure, till he fires the Heart;
Starts Jealousies, and sheds his Venom round,
And a slight Hurt he frets into a Wound.

As the large Ocean in its spacious Bed
Feels not the Streams, by which 'tis daily fed;
And tho' it drinks the copious Ister there,
And swallows Nile's Sev'n Disemboguements here,
Still equal and alike, th'insatiate Main
In the same Limits do's itself restrain.

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No more the Floods of Wealth, from ev'ry Part,
Quench the hot Fever of Rufinus' Heart.
Where precious Chains are seen, or Bracelets shine
With sparkling Gemms, and wrought with Skill Divine,
Or the fair Harvest shews a fruitful Soil,
The hungry Harpy fly's, and fastens on the Spoil.

The fertile Field, and cultivated Plain
Betray their Master, and destroy the Swain.
Houses he seizes, and paternal Lands
From their own Lords rapaciously demands:
All feel his Rage, thro' ev'ry Quarter spread,
He strips the Living, and he heirs the Dead.
In Heaps his Treasures swell; and, pil'd on high,
The Rapines of the World in One Man's Coffers lye!
Forc'd to submit, the plunder'd People groan,
And Public Towns the Private Robber own.

Whither, enormous Monster, wilt thou rage?
What can so vast an Appetite assuage?
Shou'dst thou the Wealth of either Ocean hold,
Shou'd Lydia's River give thee all its Gold;
Didst thou possess the wealthy Crœsus' Throne,
And make the Persian Diadem thy own,
Yet cou'dst thou not be rich; no Glut of Gain
Cou'd fill the Wolf thy Bosom do's contain.

Who covets, still is poor. Fabricius priz'd
His little Lot, and Gifts of Kings despis'd:
The good Serranus exercis'd with Toil
The lab'ring Plough, and turn'd the rugged Soil:

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A narrow Cottage the brave Curii held,
Who from old Rome the Samnite Arms repell'd.
Such Poverty beyond thy Wealth shall be,
And their Cott nobler, than thy Domes, to Me.
Fastidious Luxury for Thee enquires
Superfluous Feasts, and fatal Food desires;
For Me, the ready Earth do's freely rear
Dainties unbought, and Nourishment sincere.
There, the fine Wool imbibes the Tyrian Dye,
And on the Vests, embroider'd Figures lye;
Here, smiling Flow'rs, and the delightful Field,
With various Scenes, a living Pleasure yield.
The tender Down there swells the lofty Bed;
And here the Grass, that clothes the fragrant Mead,
Do's a soft Couch of chearful Green prepare,
For Sleep unbroken by intruding Care.
Of Salutations the perpetual Noise
Sounds thro' the Palace, and Repose destroys;
While spritely Birds, in Groves, melodious sing;
And, in the Vale, murmurs a trickling Spring.
A small Possession ever is the best,
And fewer Mischiefs such a State infest;
For bounteous Nature ev'ry Man supplies
With Means of Happiness, if Men were wise;
And, were the Blessing rightly understood,
Our Manners wou'd be plain, and undisguis'd our Food
No echoing Trumpets wou'd provoke Alarms,
Nor harden'd Beach be turn'd to missive Arms;

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By Winds and Waves, no shatter'd Ships wou'd fall,
Nor Engines thunder on the tott'ring Wall.

Rufinus' Thirst of Wealth encreases more
By growing Spoils, and his augmented Store.
No Shame his Craving or Oppression stays;
He Perjuries in soothing Words conveys,
Nor sooner joyns the Hand, than he betrays.

His lawless Claim, if any one denies,
Impetuous Passions in his Bosom rise;
What hunted Lyoness, that feels the Spear,
Robb'd of her sucking Whelps, what Mountain Bear,
What trodden Serpent such Distraction shows,
Or with an equal Indignation glows?
The Majesty ev'n of the Gods he spurns,
By whom he swore; with fell Revenge he burns,
And Rights of Hospitality o'erturns.
The Wife's, the Husband's, and the Children's Blood
Cannot suffice him with their mingled Flood;
'Tis not enough t've slain the next of Kin,
Exil'd the Friends, and sunk th'extinguish'd Line,
Implacably he labours, to the Ground
To raze the Town, the Nation to confound.
A quick Dispatch the cruel Wretch denies,
And a long Train of tedious Death enjoys;
Racks, Dungeons, Chains, ingeniously prepares,
And the wish'd Blow inhumanly defers.
More dreadful than the Sword, such Grace to gain!
Accurs'd Reprieve! to lengthen Life for Pain.

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Is Death so light? With Crimes his Malice feigns,
Himself the Judge, the Guiltless he arraigns:
In other Things he sleeps, but all his Eyes
Awake to Blood; to distant Lands he flies;
Not ardent Sirius can retard his Haste,
The Thracian Winter, nor the Borean Blast.
Fear gnaws his Heart, lest from th'intended Fate
Some shou'd escape, and disappoint his Hate;
Or lest the Prince's Grace shou'd step between,
And the poor Wretches from his Malice screen.
Not venerable Years can awe his Soul,
Nor Bloom of Youth his Cruelty controul.
Doom'd to the Ax, the Son untimely dies,
Before the hoary Father's weeping Eyes.
His Children slain, the wretched Sire is sent,
(Condemn'd to live,) to distant Banishment.

Who can suffice such Fun'ral Piles to tell?
Or count the slaughter'd Multitudes that fell?
What Deeds have former Ruffians dar'd, like these?
What Robber Sinis, with his bended Trees?
What Phalaris, with his Bull's tormenting Pains?
Or Sylla, with his Dungeons and his Chains?
Compar'd with Thee, Busiris will appear
Gentle; Cinna, nor Spartacus severe.
Dread seizes all; to vent their Griefs deny'd,
Their Sighs they smother, and their Anger hide.

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But Stilicho's undaunted Heart disdains
The common Fear, and nobly fix'd remains.
Alone against the Monster's deadly Jaws
He lifts the Sword, and the barb'd Arrow draws.

A firm Protection, and a stedfast Tow'r,
A Shield to shelter from th'Invader's Pow'r,
A Refuge for the trembling Exile's Woe,
A Standard rais'd against the common Foe,
All here obtain; this was the only Mound,
To save the Guiltless, and th'Oppressor bound:
Thus far he rag'd, and threatned with Affright;
But here he paus'd, and cast about for Flight.

Not otherwise, when, swell'd with wintry Rains,
A copious Torrent gushes on the Plains,
Drives the huge Stones and tusted Woods away,
And bursts the Bridges with a furious Sway,
It strikes against a Rock; the roaring Tide
With sparkling Foam lies broken at its Side.

What Praise to Thee, brave Heroe, shall we give?
Who on thy Shoulders didst the World receive,
And bear the Burden of the shaken Ball,
When the frail Globe was sinking to the Fall.
The gracious Gods foreshew'd thee from afar,
To bless our Sight; as some propitious Star,
After long Tossing on the stormy Sea,
Guides the vex'd Vessel to the welcome Bay.

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Perseus, they say, the Water-Dragon fought,
But his fleet Wings a sure Advantage brought;
No Pinions gave Thee Safety. In his Shield
Perseus the Head of grizly Gorgon held;
But Thou for thy Defence didst never bear
The hissing Terrors of Medusa's Hair.
Him a mean Passion for a Captive Maid
Led to the Fight, to lend a Virgin Aid;
Thou, for the Safety of Imperial Rome,
And the World's Welfare, didst thy Arms assume.
Thy worthy Deeds all antient Fame outshine;
Alcides' Labours must submit to Thine:
One Wood the Lyon of Cleonæ fed;
Th'Arcadian Boar one Forest fill'd with Dread;
Antæus, who from Earth new Vigour took,
With all his Murders only Libya shook;
Crete only echo'd with the bellowing Bull;
And Hydra haunted the Lernæan Pool:
At this affrightful Monster not alone
A narrow Pool, and single Island groan;
But all the Realms, that Rome's Dominion own,
From the first Borders of th'Iberian Shore,
To distant Ganges, trembled at his Roar.
Not fell Geryon, with his triple Head,
Nor the huge Porter of the passing Dead,
The Force of Hydra, and the dreaded Name
Of hungry Scylla, and Chimera's Flame,
Can equal Horror with this Fury claim.

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Of Manners most oppos'd, the Combat long
On either side with dubious Issue hung;
That to the Throat the pointed Dagger bends;
This wards the Mischief, and the Blow suspends;
That spoils the Wealthy, This supplies the Poor;
That ruins, This the ruin'd do's restore;
That kindles Wars, and seeks the lawless Fight,
This wins the Conquest, and asserts the Right.

As from th'infected Air some dire Disease
Do's first on Herds of grazing Cattle seize;
Then takes the People, and the Towns invades,
Till thro' the Land the fierce Contagion spreads;
So the rapacious Robber, not content
With a mean Prey from single Persons rent,
Aspires to ravage Kingdoms, and divide
A Royal Booty, and, her Troops destroy'd,
To crush the Roman Name, with boundless Pride.

He sets the Stranger Nations all in Arms,
And the bleak Scythians to his Aid alarms;
Inhumanly betrays to Foreign Pow'r
The poor Remains of Rome, that 'scap'd his Rage before.
Sarmatians, Dacians, and the brutal Brood
Of Massagetes, who quaff their Horses Blood,
And cold Alani by Meotis' Flood,
Swarm to the Fields; but, by Rufinus' Wile,
Who frames Delays, the Moments to beguile,
Are sav'd from Conquest, and preserv'd from Spoil.

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For when, t'avenge his Fellow Leader's Fate,
Intrepid Stilicho, with gen'rous Hate,
Ingag'd, and put the Getan Host to Flight,
And crush'd the bravest of their Troops in Fight,
While a small Part remain'd, an easy Prey,
This impious Traytor slipp'd the lucky Day,
And made the Prince, deceiv'd, the present Charge delay;
To give the Huns, who well he knew were near,
Time to come up, and joyn the fainting War.

A Race there is in Scythia's farthest Coast,
Than whom the North, none more abhorr'd can boast;
Foul is their Habit, and their Looks obscene,
Untir'd with Toil, and rugged as their Meen;
They live on Prey, nor Arts of Tillage know;
And take Delight, t'adorn with Scars their Brow.
With no less Skill they rule the stubborn Steed,
Than did the Centaurs of Ixion's Seed,
Whom Nature's Hand had fram'd of double Kind,
A Man and Horse, in one mixt Form combin'd.
When press'd, in Troops they scour away from Sight;
But turning swiftly, they renew the Fight.
Yet fearless Thou, against this horrid Foe,
Where noisy Heber's foamy Waters flow,
Didst bend thy March; and ere the Trumpets sound,
Invoke the glorious God, for Arms renown'd.

Dread Mars, whether thou dwell'st on Hæmus' Brow,
Or Rhodopé, for ever white with Snow;

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Or sit'st conceal'd on Athos' lofty Height,
(Thro' which the rowing Medes pursu'd their Flight,)
Or on Pangæus, brown with leavy Shade;
Lead on with Me, and give thy Thracians Aid:
If smiling Glory crowns this happy Day,
An Oaken Trophy shall thy Fame display.

Mars heard, and from bleak Hæmus' snowy Crown,
Rouzing his Train, march'd instantaneous down;
Bellona, bring my Helmet; and thou, Fear,
Harness my Steeds; Terror, be Charioteer.
Ply all your Hands, for with a Rival Might
My Stilicho advances to the Fight;
Who frequent honours me with hostile Spoils,
And gratefully rewards my Social Toils;
One Clarion kindles Both to Martial Rage,
And with united Chariots we engage.

He said, and rush'd into the Field; now here
This drives the Squadrons, and That scatters there;
Their Shields and Form alike; their Helmets blaze
With flashing Flames, and shine with equal Rays;
Chaf'd in the Chace, the burnish'd Breast-plate glows;
Their thirsty Spears deal Death among the Foes.

Pleas'd with the View of multiplying Ill,
Megæra smil'd at her accomplish'd Will;
And finding Justice mournful and alone,
Insults her thus, and haughtily begun;

See, to thy Wish, Peace now revive amain,
And the first Golden Age flourish again;

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My Pow'r is crush'd; my Empire overthrown;
No Nation now the Furies Pow'r will own.
Turn here thy Eyes; the Sight thy Transport claims;
What Walls lye smoaking in Barbarian Flames?
What Carnage my Rufinus' Hand has spread?
What Streams of Blood, without Reluctance, shed,
To glut the hungry Serpents of my Head?
Abandon Men, and from my Lot retire,
And to the Stars, with speedy Flight, aspire;
Fly to th'Autumnal Quarters, where there lies
Void Space sufficient in the Southern Skys,
Near the hot Lyon's Sign, and Libra's Scale;
For here thy Presence will no more avail.
And, wou'd the Fates to Me Permission yield,
I'd hunt thee still thro' Heav'ns extended Field.

The Goddess answer'd; Here thy Triumphs end;
Thy frantic Rage no farther shall extend;
Thy boasted Slave his Pains shall quickly bear,
For now, ev'n now, the vow'd Avenger's near;
And he who dares both Heav'n and Earth to brave,
To hide his impious Corse, shall want a Grave.
Honorius, promis'd to this joyful Age,
Shall soon arrive, and calm the present Rage;
Not less in Valour and applauded Fame
Than his great Sire, and shining Brother's Name:
Who quells the Medes and Indians with his Spear:
Kings shall obey, and frozen Phasis bear
His Horses Hoofs, advancing to the War.

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Araxes with a Bridge shall be constrain'd,
And thou, in Bands of stubborn Fetters chain'd,
Shorne of thy Snakes, and from the Day expell'd,
Shalt be in Hell's profoundest Dungeon held.
Earth shall be common then; no Marks shall bound
The Field distinguish'd, and divide the Ground;
Nor shall the sharpen'd Share fatigue the Swain;
But sudden Harvests shall rejoyce the Plain,
And sweating Oaks the fragrant Honey rain.
Wine then and Oyl shall flow in ev'ry Part;
No Fleece shall wear its curious Dye by Art,
But the pleas'd Shepherd, wond'ring at the Sight,
Shall see his Flock in Native Colours bright;
And, glitt'ring in the branching Weeds below,
With Orient Gemms shall ev'ry Ocean glow.

Midas.

Stilicho.

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BOOK II.

Argument.

Rufinus, alarm'd at Stilicho's Approach, procures the Barbarian Nations to invade the Roman Provinces, and besiege Constantinople itself. Stilicho hastens to its Relief, but just as he was going to give the Barbarians Battle, Rufinus prevails upon the Emperor to dispatch an Order to him not to engage, and to send back his Troops. Stilicho, tho' with Reluctance, obeys; but the Soldiers, knowing who had procur'd the Order, resolve to revenge it on Rufinus, and advance in a Body to the Imperial City. The Emperor with Rufinus coming out, according to the Roman Custom, to salute the Legions, they contrive to enclose them, and, while Rufinus suspected not their Design, fall on him at once, and cut him to pieces. The Insults offer'd to his Body, and Æacus's Sentence upon his Ghost at his Entrance into the Infernal Regions.

The Alps reduc'd, and all th'Hesperian Reign
Sav'd and defended from th' Usurper's Chain,
Heav'n to due Height the Victor did prefer,
More gaily shining with this added Star;
When, Stilicho, to Thee the Roman Pow'r
Commits her Fate in this important Hour;
And both th'Imperial Brothers to thy Hand
Intrust their Legions, with Supreme Command.
Rufinus then, whose Crimes can brook no Stay,
And whose polluted Jaws still thirst for Prey,

177

Projects new Wars, and Scenes of endless Woes,
With wonted Rage, to vex the World's Repose.
Thus with himself; O! how shall I suspend
Th'approaching Ruin, or my Life defend?
What Arts employ to stem the rising Tide,
Which rolls resistless on from ev'ry Side?
Here fierce Revenge, and cruel Hate abound;
There furious Hosts encompass me around.
What shall I now attempt? Nor Arms remain,
Nor any Hope the Prince's Grace to gain.
Th'impending Danger strikes my Soul with Dread,
And sharpen'd Swords are brandish'd at my Head.
What then is left? but Mischief to create,
And plunge the guiltless People in my Fate?
Pleas'd then I am, with the whole World to fall,
In common Ruin thus involving all:
Nor otherwise will I conclude the Strife,
Nor quit my Pow'r, before I quit my Life.

He said; and pours unnumber'd Martial Swarms,
As Æolus lets loose th'imprison'd Storms;
He gives the Reins to War; his barb'rous Art
Marks out the Path to Blood thro' ev'ry Part.
Some o'er the frozen Danube speed their Way;
And Chariots roll, where Oars were wont to play:
And from the Caspian Streights Some seek the Prey;
Thro' cold Armenia's trackless Snows they wade,
And all at once the wealthy East invade.

178

The Cappadocian Fields now smoke around,
And high Argæus, for swift Steeds renown'd.
The gushing Gore do's Halys' Waters stain;
Nor craggy Taurus can their March restrain.
The lovely Meadows of the Syrian Soil
Are ravag'd, and become th'Invader's Spoil;
And soft Orontes, (where, in spritely Dance,
To the loud Pipe the shouting Quires advance,
And the pleas'd People mix in merry Play,)
Now hears the Trumpets sound, and Coursers neigh.

Hence Asia sighs; and Europe, in Distress,
Far as Dalmatia the proud Getes oppress;
From all the Fields between the Pontic Main
And Adriatic, flies th'affrighted Swain,
And leaves disherited the wasted Plain;
Like Libya's panting Coast, a desart Land,
Parch'd with the Sun, nor till'd by human Hand.
The rolling Ruin o'er Thessalia spreads;
No rural Pipes chear Pelion's silent Meads;
Th'Emathian Harvest the fierce Flame devours,
The Mysian Pastures, and the Thracian Tow'rs.
The Mischief now above Lamenting grows,
'Tis a wide Course of Universal Woes;
The Desolation reaches ev'ry Coast,
And Sense of Ill in frequent Ill is lost.

Alas! how perishing is Human Joy!
What trifling Causes noblest Things destroy!

179

An Empire, by such Seas of Blood obtain'd,
So dearly kept, so honourably gain'd;
The Labour of a thousand Chiefs to raise,
And all the Roman Arms in happy Days;
One subtle Traytor levels with the Ground,
And in a Moment basely do's confound!

The City which o'erlooks the Thracian Shore,
And proudly rivals Rome's Imperial Pow'r,
No longer is alarm'd with Arms from far,
But sees at home the dire approaching War;
Astonish'd hears the rattling Trumpets sound,
While the strong Jav'lins on the Walls rebound.
These mount the Works, and those with watchful Care,
To guard the Port, a Line of Ships prepare.

The welcome Siege do's impiously impart
A brutal Pleasure to Rufinus' Heart;
From his high Tow'r insulting he beheld
The dreadful Carnage of the neighb'ring Field.
Here captive Matrons walk, in Shackles bound;
There one, half-dead, sinks in the Waters drown'd.
This ev'n in Flight is reach'd by swifter Death,
And, in the Gate, That gasps away his Breath.
His hoary Hairs avail the Sire no more;
Mothers are bath'd in their own Childrens Gore.
Rufinus smiles; one only Grief he knows,
That his own Hand can deal no deadly Blows,
He sees devouring Flames roll fiercely on,
And partial spare his favour'd Seats alone;

180

And, vaunting in his Crime, is proud to show
Which Side he favours, and avows the Foe;
He only is indulg'd, (he boasts,) the Grace
Their Camp to visit free, from Place to Place;
To meet, and to conclude the glorious Peace!

Oft to the hostile Congress as he bends,
A Band of Clients on his Steps attends;
And, mingling with Barbarians, not to want
Barbarian Marks entire in ev'ry Point,
Their hideous Habit he affects, and wears
The Hides of Lions, and the Spoils of Bears,
Thick Bridles, monstrous Quivers, rattling Bows;
And by his Dress his Inclination shows.
He who th'Ausonian Chair and Rights possest,
Blush'd not t'assume, with Insolence profest,
The Getes rude Customs, and their savage Vest:
While, by their shagged Master trampled down,
The vanquish'd Laws resign the Latian Gown.

What were the People's Looks? and what were then
The stolen Murmurs of unhappy Men?
For none in Public dar'd to vent his Grief,
Or by Complaining gain a short Relief.
This Yoke accurs'd how long shall we sustain?
Or when an End to such Oppressions gain?
From these wild Whirlwinds and perpetual Tears,
Who shall release us, and remove our Fears?
Rufinus there devours the ready Prey,
And here Barbarian Troops obstruct our Way,
Depriv'd of Succour both by Land and Sea.

181

Around the Fields the roaming Ruin flies,
But greater Horrour do's the Towns surprize.
Awake at length, and stretch thy pious Hand,
O Stilicho, to save thy sinking Land.
Here are thy Children, thy ennobled House,
Here first thy Arms receiv'd the plighted Spouse;
Here happy Signs presag'd thy Genial Bed,
And the pleas'd Court the nuptial Torch display'd.
Auspicious Leader, do not make Delay,
Wait not for Troops, but come thyself away:
Strait at thy Presence the fierce War shall cease,
And the fell Monster's Rage subside to Peace.

Such were the Sorrows of the suff'ring East;
When soon as Spring the Winter's Rage represt,
And from the Hills the Snows dissolving run,
His March the Heroe readily begun;
And leaving Italy in Peace behind,
Advanc'd intrepid to the Parts assign'd.
Rang'd each apart, distinctly he commands
The Gallic Troops and Oriental Bands.
Such various Tongues, an Host so widely spread,
Ne'er march'd before beneath one common Head.
Here loosely girt, th'Armenian Wings appear,
Clad in green Garments and with curling Hair;
There the fierce Gauls with yellow Locks proceed,
Whom the swift Rhone, or slower Arar breed,
Or whom, new-born, the Rhine's deep Current try'd,
Or whom Garumna washes with his Tide,

182

When swell'd with Torrents from the troubled Main,
The refluent River floats the cover'd Plain.
One Soul inspires them all; they lay aside
The vengeful Thoughts, that did their Hearts divide.
With Rage of Civil Wars tho' late they glow'd,
And Martial Heat fermented in their Blood,
The Victors and the Vanquish'd friendly join,
Nor proudly those insult, nor these repine;
But all beneath th'illustrious Chief unite,
In Council cool, as ardent in the Fight.
Such was the Host, that follow'd from afar,
From ev'ry Region, Xerxes to the War;
Which, as 'tis said, did drink whole Rivers dry,
And shaded with their Darts th'unclouded Sky;
When thro' pierc'd Rocks his Fleet he did convey,
And laid a Bridge a-cross th'insulted Sea.

Scarce had he pass'd the craggy Alps, before
The fierce Barbarians trembled at his Pow'r;
They roam no more; their Strength compacted held,
And drew a Line of Works along the Field.
A double Trench is form'd; a lofty Mound
With sharpen'd Piles secures th'included Ground,
And, like a sudden Wall, the heavy Train
Of Carriages are planted on the Plain.

Now Pangs of Fear Rufinus' Heart assail,
His Looks are anxious, and his Face is pale;
Alternate Doubts his tortur'd Thoughts distress,
Whether to fly, or supplicate for Peace,

183

Or with a bold Revolt, himself to throw
On the sure Friendship of the trusty Foe.

What now avail his Heaps of plunder'd Ore?
His ravish'd Riches, and unnumber'd Store!
His Palaces with polish'd Marble bright,
And Domes contending with the Heav'ns in Height?
He marks th'Avenger's March, and counts the Days,
His Life computing by the Length of Ways;
Grieves to behold an End approach of Woes,
And, by his Heart condemn'd, feels no Repose;
Starts from his Bed, and, with wild Horrors rent,
Is punish'd by the Dread of Punishment.
But soon his Rage returns, and he resumes
The Zeal of Mischief, that himself becomes;
Then to Arcadius' Presence boldly ran,
And with a mingled Terror thus began.

By thy Imperial Brother's Star, the Fame
Of thy great Father's consecrated Name;
By thy own Bloom of youthful Years, I pray,
Turn from my Head the lifted Sword away;
From Stilicho's injurious Threats defend;
See how the Gauls to my Destruction bend,
And those whose Regions lye, if such there be,
Beyond Britannia and the farthest Sea.
What listed Legions to the Field are led?
What Hosts are arm'd against a single Head?

184

Whence all this Thirst of Blood? the Cause is clear,
'Tis Stilicho's Ambition kindles War:
He scorns an Equal, and, with lawless Soul,
Himself wou'd rule alone from Pole to Pole.
Libya and Italy his proud Command
Confess, with Spain and all the Gallic Land.
Not the Sun's Round, nor Nature's largest Line
So vast a Lust of Empire can confine.
Whatever Wealth thy happy Sire obtain'd
In Peace, or in successful Battles gain'd,
His is the Whole; nor will his craving Breast
Resign the Riches he has once possest.
But let him live in Peace, and govern all,
And let Rufinus, for his Honour, fall;
Yet why shou'd He, with lawless Arms, prepare
From Thee to ravish thy Imperial Share?
Let him resign Illyria, and the Band
Of Eastern Troops, dividing the Command
Of either Army with an equal Hand.
Crush his big Pride, and vindicate thy Due,
And heir thy Father's Throne and Legions too.
But if thou meanly dar'st to hesitate,
And dost not instantly sorbid my Fate,
By Hell and Heav'n I swear, this Head alone
Shall not be lost; the Danger is thy own;
More Blood shall mix with mine, nor will I go
An unattended Ghost to Shades below,
Nor shall the Victor safely strike the Blow.

185

He said; th'inglorious Prince a Mandate sign'd,
With mean Submission, to Rufinus' Mind,
And sent a Herald suddenly to bear
Th'extorted Order, and forbid the War.

Mean time the Prospect of the neighb'ring Foe
Provokes a Hero's Joy in Stilicho;
Their Lines and Ramparts only now between,
With a loud Voice he fires his eager Men.
In the left Wing th'Armenians march, the right
The Gauls compose, and wish th'expected Fight.
There might you see the foamy Coursers bound,
And Clouds of Dust ascend, and roll around,
And purple Snakes in streaming Ensigns fly,
With angry Hissings thro' the glowing Sky.

The Fields of Thessaly, the Centaur's Cave,
The River which did young Achilles lave,
And OEta's gloomy Grove, the horrid Blaze
Of Arms enlighten with their flashing Rays;
Cold Ossa thunders with the Martial Sound,
And high Olympus shakes with Shouts around.
Th'impatient Legions, prodigal of Light,
Glow with fresh Ardour of th'approaching Fight.
The Rocks and Rivers scarcely can restrain
Th'impetuous Troops from rushing on amain.
And had the Foe adventur'd then t'engage
In open Field, and dar'd to meet their Rage,
Greece had not such repeated Slaughters view'd,
Nor Pelops' Cities been in Blood embru'd,
But still th'Arcadian Tow'rs, and Sparta still had stood.

186

Nor had the Seas blaz'd with Corinthian Flames,
Nor hostile Shackles drag'd Athenian Dames;
For one auspicious Day had put a Close
To Waste and War, and giv'n the World Repose.
But see how great an Enterprize was crost
By Fortune's Spite, and what a Triumph lost!
Just as th'embattled Horse had form'd their Line,
And the shrill Trumpets Clangor gave the Sign,
The Royal Order came, to countermand
The Fight, and reach'd th'advancing Leader's Hand.
Amaz'd he stood, with Rage and Grief possest,
Alternate swelling in his generous Breast;
Astonish'd to behold with what a Sway,
Rufinus bore down all Things in his Way.
He weighs on either Hand the Chances run,
Whether to press with Resolution on,
Or drop the great Design so well begun.
He burns with Zeal to curb the growing Ill,
Yet fears to disobey his Prince's Will:
His Duty awes his Valour; Public Good
On this Side urges and inflames his Blood,
And Dread of Envy now on that withstood.
Then to the Stars his lifted Hands he spread,
And from his Soul thus, ardently, he said;

Ye Gods! not yet with Roman Woes-appeas'd,
If to subvert our Empire you are pleas'd,
If by One Blow whole Ages are design'd
To sink, and you abandon Human-Kind,

187

Let o'er the Globe the rushing Main be hurl'd,
Or wand'ring Phaeton confound the World:
Why is Rufinus made your Instrument?
So base an Author will disgrace th'Event.
Just in the Start of Battle we're compell'd
To sheath the shining Sword, and leave the Field.
Ye Walls and Cities to the Flames consign'd,
You I attest, with what reluctant Mind,
I now submit, and to the destin'd Fate,
O Grief! O Shame! permit the Roman State.
Recall your Ensigns, Soldiers, from the War,
Turn back, and to your sev'ral Climes repair;
We must obey; let not the Trumpet blow;
Dismount the ready Arrow from the Bow;
And, so Rufinus bids, release the Foe.

He said; a Clamour instantly began
With surly Sound, and thro' the Squadrons ran;
Louder than Billows on the Rocky Shore,
Or Thunders bursting with resistless Roar.
The Troops of East and West, with gen'rous Pride,
Demand the Fight, refusing to divide;
Their Leader's Truth unblemish'd they defend;
Each claim'd him theirs, and zealously contend;
A warm, but glorious Mutiny arose,
And in these Words their common Passion flows.

Who strikes the Sword, just lifted, from our Hands?
And who to slack the bended Bow commands?

188

Who basely dares the brandish'd Spear controul?
Valour, once heated, knows not how to cool.
The Weapons urge th'avenging Arm amain,
Nor can the Scabbard the dry Blade retain.
Still shall the Getes by our Dissensions thrive?
See a new Face of Civil War revive.
Why, gen'rous Chieftain, why dost thou divide
United Eagles, Troops in Blood ally'd?
One Body firm are We, and Thou our Head,
Prepar'd to march where-ever thou shalt lead.
Thee will we follow ev'n to Thule's Coast,
Condemn'd to Night and Hyperborean Frost:
Thee we'll attend to Libya's sultry Sands,
To India's Ocean, and the farthest Lands.
With Thee we'll drink Hydaspes' golden Stream,
Bear ev'ry Toil, and suffer each Extream.
If thou command'st, the Southern Climes to try;
The glowing Southern Climates we'll defy;
Or Infant Nilus' secret Source to find,
We'll traverse Nile, and leave the World behind.
Where-ever Stilicho his Tent shall rear,
That is our Country, and our Home is there.

But the wise Chief restrain'd their eager Zeal;
Desist, he said; your Martial Ardour quell;
Let this dark Storm of threatning Envy fall
Without Effect, and not o'erwhelm us all.

189

Not Conquest's self will for the Shame atone,
To seem to conquer for myself alone.
Retire, ye trusty Bands, your Rage forbear;
Farewell, my Friends, Companions of the War!

Nor more he said, but quick, without Delay,
Turn'd back, and march'd reluctantly away.
Thus the stern Lyon, with an empty Maw,
(Of Prey defeated,) and a bloodless Paw,
Retreats impatient, when with Darts and Fire
The Shepherds make the Royal Beast retire:
He hangs his Main, and o'er his Eye-balls hid,
Turn'd to the Ground, draws down the low'ring Lid;
And, inward roaring with a sullen Sound,
To find a Pass explores the Forest round.

The Legions then that saw themselves dismist,
Gave a loud Groan, with manly Grief opprest;
Their shining Helmets are bedew'd with Tears,
And ev'ry Token of Distress appears:
With the deep Sobs, that from their Bosoms break,
Their Voice is choak'd, and their strong Corslets shake.

Then we're betray'd, they cry, and must no more
Serve the lov'd Leader, whom we serv'd before.
And dost thou thus thy faithful Bands despise,
So often try'd, and crown'd with Victories?
Are we so vile? and has th'Hesperian Land
More happily deserv'd thy wish'd Command?
What Pleasure now to view our old Abodes,
Our dearer Children, and our Household Gods?

190

Without Thee, Nothing profits or delights;
For now Rufinus' Tyranny affrights.
Studious in Mischief, insolent and hard,
Some curs'd Design perhaps he has prepar'd,
To give us up, abandon'd and undone,
Slaves to th'Alani, or the hideous Hunn.
But our warm Spirits are not sunk so low,
Nor such a Penury of Arms we know;
Tho' to the West remanded, thou shalt be
Our Chief; we'll own no other Head but Thee;
Our Faith, tho' absent, still shall be the same,
Still, unrevok'd, pursue thy honour'd Name;
And soon the Victim, due to Thee, shall bleed,
And thou shalt hear, and shalt applaud the Deed.

Now from th'Hæmonian Coast, the grieving Bands
Proceeding, reach'd the Macedonian Lands
And Thessalonian Walls, without Delay;
Deep at their Heart, their smother'd Sorrow lay,
And silent to Revenge prepar'd the watchful Way.
A Place to favour their Design, they wait,
And Time adapted to perform their Hate;
Yet in an Host, of Youths compos'd, not One
By hasty Words made the bold Project known;
And all Posterity, thro' ev'ry Age,
Shall stand amaz'd, that in the Heat of Rage,
Such Multitudes the Purpose still conceal'd,
Nor once th'important Enterprize reveal'd;

191

That no free Talk, nor License of the Bowl
Threw out the fervent Purpose of their Soul;
But the same Constancy thro' all prevail'd,
And a whole People the big Thought conceal'd.
Heber and Rhodopé in haste they pass,
And take their March across the Plains of Thrace;
To the fam'd Town at length the Squadrons came,
Which boasts from Hercules its honour'd Name.

When Stilicho's Retreat Rufinus knew;
And that the Gothick Host now nearer drew,
In haughty Triumph he erects his Head,
Thinks all is safe, and deems the Danger fled;
Affects to grasp the Scepter in his Hand,
And proudly thus harangues his trusty Band.

We've conquer'd; and our Enemy is gone;
And now with Ease the Kingdom is our own;
We dread no Foe; for singly whom he fear'd,
Who shall attack thus compass'd with a Guard?
Or dare to face me, thus for War supply'd,
Who naked and unarm'd their Pow'r defy'd?
Go, Stilicho, and now at Distance due,
Contrive my Exile, and my Hate pursue;
While Length of Lands and rolling Seas divide
Rufinus safely from thy baffled Pride;
For while I live, 'twill scarcely be thy Chance
O'er the rough Alps presumptuously t'advance.
Securely there at Distance wage the War,
And strain the Bow, and cast the Dart from far;

192

Fierce draw thy Sword, and try from Italy
To reach thy Thrusts, against these Walls and Me.
Can no Examples, plac'd before thy Eyes,
Curb thy rash Rage, and teach thee to be wise?
Did any ever urge me, but their Hate
Caus'd their own Ruin, and procur'd their Fate?
From half the World by Me thou art expell'd,
Stripp'd of thy Troops, and forc'd to quit the Field.
Now, my brave Friends, the jovial Hour ordains
To form the Feast, and pay the Soldiers Pains;
And the large Donative, with gen'rous Pride,
To the new Legions liberally divide:
To-morrow's Light shall smile upon my Vows,
While my Demands, the Prince, tho' lothe, allows,
Constrain'd t'admit me Partner in his Throne;
By which at once successfully I shun
The Guilt of Usurpation, and the Shame
Of a mean Station and a private Name.

His wicked Crew (their Hands with Rapine stain'd,
Whose Wealth was all by publick Plunder gain'd,)
Congratulate this Speech with loud Acclaim,
And promise to support the glorious Scheme.
Their Band of Friendship is their common Guilt;
Sear'd were their Hearts, and no Compunction felt.
With brutal Mirth, the jovial Plan they form,
What Dames to ravish, and what Towns to storm;
Devoted Cities greedily survey,
And vainly portion out the promis'd Prey.

193

Now Night began upon her sable Breast
To lull the Labours of the World to Rest;
When fierce Rufinus, whose uneasy Mind
Was toss'd with Cares, at length to Sleep resign'd;
Scarcely he slumbers, when, with dire Affright,
The Ghosts of those he murder'd, haunt his Sight;
And one, distinct to View above the rest,
Thus seem'd to speak, and hastily addrest.

Come, quit thy Bed, nor vex thy anxious Heart
All Means to weigh, and new Designs to start;
The Day, now breaking, shall thy Labours close,
And give to Thee thy long-desir'd Repose:
Rais'd high above the Croud thou shalt return,
And on their Hands triumphantly be borne.
This, in fallacious Terms, the Spectre said;
Nor did he find, by the false Omen led,
The dubious Speech presag'd his sever'd Head.

On Hæmus' Height now sparkling Phosphor shone,
And Titan rapid roll'd his Chariot on,
To view at last a Sight desir'd of All,
The World's Redemption, and Rufinus' Fall;
He sprung from Bed, and bade them strait with Care
The spacious Palace for the Feast prepare;
And on the Gold, he promis'd to divide,
Stamps his own Image with Imperial Pride;
Goes forth t'harangue the Troops, with Pride elate,
Tow'ring above his Prince, in regal State:

194

Sure of the Throne, a costly Garb he wears,
And wontonly assumes luxurious Airs;
As if the Diadem and Purple Vest
Had crown'd his Head, and his vile Shoulders drest.

To the South Quarter where the City bends,
A narrow Space of Land alone extends,
Sav'd from the Sea, while the repining Main
Surrounds the rest, and threats the neighb'ring Plain.
Here, bright in Arms, th'avenging Troops unfold
Their marshall'd Numbers regular and bold;
On the left Wing the Foot are plac'd; the Horse
Possess the right, a formidable Force:
The gen'rous Steeds resist the Rider's Hand,
Press on the Bridle, and the Race demand.
Some with their nodding Crests the Sight amaze,
And shifting Colours round their Shoulders blaze;
Sheath'd all in Steel, and wrought with Art so nice,
The supple Metal to the Body plies.
The dread Appearance seem'd a moving Train
Of breathing Images and Iron Men.
The Horse were clad the same; their Fronts severe,
And ample Shoulders, Iron Armour wear:
Each kept his Rank, well-disciplin'd and true,
A beauteous Horror, and a solemn View.
As the Wind falls, the Serpents cease to fly,
And peaceful on the flagging Banners lye.

Arcadius first the honour'd Ensigns greets,
Rufinus next with Salutations meets;

195

Smooth to deceive, around the Ranks he moves,
Admires their Ardour, and their Zeal approves;
Each by his Name he calls, and smiles to tell,
Their Sires, and Sons, and Families are well.
With Cunning while they meet his vain Design,
And busily in feign'd Petitions joyn,
Unheeded they prepare to bend their Train,
Cast in a sudden Circle on the Plain;
The Space begins to lessen; either Wing
Wheels gently round, to form a hollow Ring;
And leisurely approaching o'er the Field,
They joyn at once, and mingle Shield to Shield.
Thus the keen Huntsman, o'er the destin'd Ground,
His Toils the spacious Forest spreads around;
And thus th'industrious Fisher, in the Sea
Drives dext'rously to Shore the finny Prey;
Contracts his Net, and artfully provides
To close the Meshes, and the gaping Sides.

The rest shut out, the Troops alone surround
Him and Arcadius on the fatal Ground:
Yet did he not, on his own Schemes intent,
Suspect the Fraud, nor what the Legions meant.
But boldly fastning on the Prince's Vest,
Requir'd him now to finish his Request,
To mount the Throne, and in that very Hour
Proclaim him Partner of th'Imperial Pow'r.
When suddenly they draw their glitt'ring Swords,
And a big Voice roars out these thund'ring Words:

196

Traytor, cou'dst thou conceive a Hope so vain,
On Us, on Us, to fix the servile Chain!
Know'st thou not whence we come? Shall we endure
To bend so low, to recognize thy Pow'r,
To be thy menial Guard, and call Thee Lord,
Who have so often, with vindictive Sword,
Laws, and their Rights, to distant Realms restor'd?
Twice we the Rage of Civil War have quell'd,
Twice o'er the rugged Alps our March have held;
So many Fights have taught us, with Disdain,
To serve no Tyrant, and to wear no Chain!

He shook all o'er, no Hope of Flight appears,
And all around him shines an Host of Spears;
He stares astonish'd, while the furious Band
With Swords encompass him on either Hand.
Thus the fierce Bear, among the Mountains caught,
His native Haunt, and to the Circus brought,
Leaps out dismay'd, while, shouting on his Ear,
The Keeper goads him forward with his Spear:
Uprear'd, he casts around his glaring Eyes,
And views the Theatre with wild Surprize,
Scar'd with the Multitude's promiscuous Cries.

When one, more daring, of his own Accord,
Sprung thro' the Ranks, grasping his naked Sword;
“With this, with this Right Hand, do's Stilicho,
“Whom thou didst vaunt to vanquish, strike the Blow;

197

“Thus executes a just Avenger's Part,
“And, absent, pierces thus thy Traytor Heart!

He said, and plung'd the Weapon in his Side.
Auspicious Hand! first in this Crimson dy'd.
That thus began the welcome Vengeance, due
To the vex'd World, and such a Monster slew.
All then at once with their sharp Spears contend
The Trunk to mangle, and the Members rend;
With Groves of Piles they stab him o'er and o'er,
And blush to draw them back undrench'd in Gore:
These tear his greedy Jaws, and rolling Eyes,
And others make his sever'd Arms their Prize:
This lops the Feet, the Shoulders That, and One
Cuts from the broken Back the bending Bone;
This snatch'd the Liver; That the panting Heart;
And This the Lungs, dividing ev'ry Part.
No Room is left to glut their greedy Rage,
Nor can the Subject their fierce Spite assuage:
Ev'n finish'd thus, they scarcely give him o'er,
And the hew'd Corps is almost seen no more.
So reek'd th'Aonian Mount, when Pentheus slain
Was drag'd, and mangled by the madding Train;
Or when Actæon, at the fatal Cave,
To his own Hounds the vengeful Goddess gave.
Can this reverse the Mischiefs thou hast done,
Blind Fortune, and thy mighty Crimes atone?
Can one poor Death so many Thousands pay?
Now to the Nations portion out the Prey;

198

His hated Head to the rough Thracians give,
And let the harass'd Greeks the Trunk receive;
But what shall other ruin'd Realms require?
For ev'ry Land there's not a Limb entire.

The People leave the Town, and swarm amain,
Free from all Fear, to view him on the Plain;
Nor Shame the Maids, nor Years the Sires restrain.
Widows, whose Husbands he had murder'd, fly,
With childless Mothers, to the common Joy,
Insult him dead, and now with Fury burn,
His Limbs to trample, and the Monster spurn:
They dip their Feet with Pleasure in his Gore,
Nor less are eager, with a stony Show'r,
To crush his batter'd Head, which, mounted high
On a Spear's Point, now nodded in the Sky,
And, to the hissing Croud in Triumph shown,
Returns with fitting Honour to the Town:
His Right Hand too, in Mockery and Scorn,
To sue for Alms from Door to Door is borne,
And the just Punishment, by this Disgrace,
Of the vile Owner's Lust of Lucre pays:
For imitating Life, they make it strain
And clench the Fingers, at the Touch of Gain.

Learn to distrust Prosperity from hence,
And fear the just Awards of Providence.
That Hand, which scarcely had a Sceptre miss'd,
Which the aw'd Nobles had so often kiss'd,

199

Unbury'd long, and from the Body torne,
To beg an Alms ev'n after Death is borne.
Whoever, swell'd with lucky Fortune, rears
His Crest aloft, and insolently bears,
Here let him see, with Popular Disdain
Drag'd thro' the Roads and Streets, that haughty Man,
Who Monuments, that ev'n with Temples vy'd,
Rais'd for himself with boundless Cost and Pride:
Ev'n He, to whom the Crown was almost giv'n,
Now naked lies, to feed the Fowls of Heav'n;
Who made before the trembling World comply,
Now cannot one poor Spot of Earth enjoy,
But roll'd in Dust by ev'ry common Slave,
Is piece-meal cover'd, and yet wants a Grave.

Heav'n own'd the Death, and Earth the Load obscene
Of his vile Corps, refuses as unclean:
The Stars respire, and to the Lakes below,
A Guest abhorr'd, do's his grim Shadow go.
At his Approach stood Æacus aghast,
And Cerb'rus hoarsly bay'd him as he past:
The Ghosts of those he slew, around him meet,
And drag him to the awful Judgment-Seat;
In Crouds they gather; as the vengeful Bees
In buzzing Swarms the daring Shepherd seize,
That robs their Honey; with their busy Wings
They seek his Face, and shoot their little Stings;
And, shelter'd by the Rock, their Forces bend,
Their Seats to cover, and their Combs defend.

200

A Place there lies, where, deeply hid from Light,
Cocytus' Stream and Phlegethon's unite,
Unpleasing Rivers; that is fill'd with Tears,
And this a Flood of rolling Fire appears.
Betwixt them both, a Tower its frightful Frame
Erects sublime, and seems a Pile of Flame;
On its left Side, of Adamant compos'd,
Hoarse Phlegethon its burning Waves disclos'd;
The right Side sadly sounds with sobbing Cries
Of deep Cocytus, and incessant Sighs.
Hither at Death all mortal Minds descend,
And, undistinguish'd, their last Lot attend.
Stripp'd of their Honours and their Titles vain,
Kings here are mingled with the Vulgar Train.
Minos, the dire Inquisitor, sublime
Plac'd on his Throne, examines ev'ry Crime,
Divides the Guilty from the Just; and those
Who, with Defiance, to confess refuse,
To his fierce Brother's Rod he hurrys thence,
To bear the Pains of hard Impenitence:
For near him, Radamanthus sits, who weighs
The Life at large, and rigidly surveys;
To Crimes the proper Punishments assigns,
And Criminals in Shapes of Beasts confines.
The Cruel, Bears, the Robbers, Wolves become,
The Traytors Foxes, by impartial Doom;
Those who in Sloth, and wanton Lust and Wine,
Indulging Riot, sunk their Hours supine,
Are sent into the Limbs of sordid Swine.

201

The pratling Babler, who with leaky Tongue
Bewray'd all Secrets, to his Neighbour's Wrong,
Swims a mute Fish, and, in the watry Maze,
For Tatling with Eternal Silence pays.
When these for full three thousand Years have past
Thro' various Figures, the strict Judge at last
In Lethé purges them, so Fates ordain,
And to their Human Form recalls again.
Then, as he sate in Judgment to decide
The dubious Causes, and in Order try'd,
Lo! from afar Rufinus' Ghost he spy'd;
He view'd him rigidly with frowning Eyes,
And the Throne trembled while aloud he cries;

Hither, thou Scandal of the Worlds above,
Thou Sink of Gold unglutted, hither move;
Who didst thro' unexampled Crimes aspire,
And nothing wou'dst not dare for proffer'd Hire;
Venal Interpreter of Sacred Laws,
The vilest Vice, which most my Vengeance draws;
Who for thy Country's Ruin tempted forth
The dire Barbarians of the frozen North;
By whose unnumber'd Carnages, the Shore
Of crowded Hell has oft been cover'd o'er.
Such open Deeds, 'twere Madness to deny,
Sear'd on thy Breast the Spots obscenely lie,
And Blots of branded Sin thy blemish'd Image dye.

202

Thy Crimes refuse Disguise. Whatever Pain
My Stores of Vengeance awfully contain,
Thou shalt endure; the Rock that threats to fall,
The rolling Wheel; thou shalt sustain them all:
Thy Thirst unquench'd still flatt'ring to relieve,
The brimming Waters shall thy Lips deceive;
The Vultur shall from other Food withdraw,
And on thy Entrails glut his greedy Maw.
All Others, who these dreadful Tortures bear,
But Parts of Thee, enormous Villain, were.
What, to be nam'd with Thee, did he, who flung
The mimic Thunders, as he drove along?
Or Tantalus, with his presumptuous Tongue?
Or Tityus, when with unpermitted Love,
Latona's Honour to pollute he strove?
If all their Facts shou'd be in one combin'd,
Thou hast surpass'd them, Monster unconfin'd.
Who can inflict, with a vindictive Hand,
The Pains that these unequall'd Crimes demand?
How shall I justly punish all thy Deeds,
When one alone all Punishment exceeds?
Hence, bear him hence, and clear him from our Coasts,
The Shame of Shades, and chase him from the Ghosts;
T've seen him is enough; now spare our Sight,
And cleanse again the Sacred Realms of Night:
With Scourges drive him down below the Ground,
Beneath the Styx and Erebus profound;

203

Below the Titans Den, below the Womb
Of Tartarus, and Chaos' horrid Gloom:
Plunge, plunge him deep, where Night's Foundations lie;
Chain'd to a Rock, there let him vainly cry,
While Heav'n rolls round the Stars, and while the Shore
The Billows beat, and blustring Tempests roar.

Eugenius.

Theodosius.

Honorius.

Theodosius.

Heraclea, or Constantinople.