The Rape of Proserpine, From Claudian In Three Books. With the Episode of Sextus and Erichtho, From Lucan's Pharsalia, Book VI. Translated by Mr. Jabez Hughes. The Second Edition, Corrected and Enlarg'd with Notes |
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THE EPISODE OF Sextus and Erichtho:
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 | The Rape of Proserpine, From Claudian |  |
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THE EPISODE OF Sextus and Erichtho:
From Lucan's Pharsalia. Book VI.
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The ARGUMENT.
Upon Cæsar's Retreat into Thessaly, Pompey follows him thither; and the Neighbourhood of the two Armies rend'ring the Battel unavoidable, the Generals resolve upon the Encounter. The Night before the Engagement, Sextus, the Son of Pompey, being in panick Fear of the Event, steals privately out of the Camp, and goes to the famous Enchantress Erichtho, to know the Fortune of the ensuing Fight. Lucan takes occasion from hence to give a very Poetical Description of the surprizing Powers of the Thessalian Witches and their Sorceries, and of Erichtho's Charms; who raises a Soldier that was lately slain, to learn of him what was determin'd among the Shades, concerning the Battel. It appears by his Answer, that Pompey was to lose the Victory, and his Life; that Cæsar shou'd not survive him long; and that after their Death, Pompey wou'd be receiv'd in the Infernal Regions with Honours, while Cæsar wou'd be disgrac'd and punish'd, as having fought the Cause of Tyranny and Oppression.
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The Chiefs incamp'd on this devoted Ground,
Thro' either Host presaging Thoughts abound;
And the dread Moment of the doubtful Fight
Rolls on a-pace, and rises to the Sight.
Th' Approach of Fate dismays the Coward Train,
While the brave Few more equally sustain
Th' alternate Passions: but with endless Shame,
Sextus, unworthy his great Parent's Name,
Shook in the common Fright, forgetful of his Fame.
In Exile thus, on the Sicilian Sea,
A Pirate vile, he ravishes the Prey,
Pollutes the Triumphs which his Father won
On the same Shore, and cancels his Renown.
Thro' either Host presaging Thoughts abound;
And the dread Moment of the doubtful Fight
Rolls on a-pace, and rises to the Sight.
Th' Approach of Fate dismays the Coward Train,
While the brave Few more equally sustain
Th' alternate Passions: but with endless Shame,
Sextus, unworthy his great Parent's Name,
Shook in the common Fright, forgetful of his Fame.
In Exile thus, on the Sicilian Sea,
A Pirate vile, he ravishes the Prey,
Pollutes the Triumphs which his Father won
On the same Shore, and cancels his Renown.
Push'd by his Fear, and brookless of Delay,
T' explore the Fates, the Dastard took his way.
He sought not Delos, or the Pythian Cave,
Or vocal Oak, whence Jove his Answers gave;
Or what th' inspecting Augurs holy Art,
The rushing Lightnings, or wing'd Birds impart;
Or what the grave Astrologer declares,
From mingling Aspects of revolving Stars:
No lawful Way the wretched Roman tries,
But to dire Magick impotently flies,
And sullen Rites, detested by the Skies:
In Hell he trusts, and moves the Shades below,
Nor thinks the Gods th' important Secret know.
T' explore the Fates, the Dastard took his way.
He sought not Delos, or the Pythian Cave,
Or vocal Oak, whence Jove his Answers gave;
Or what th' inspecting Augurs holy Art,
The rushing Lightnings, or wing'd Birds impart;
Or what the grave Astrologer declares,
From mingling Aspects of revolving Stars:
No lawful Way the wretched Roman tries,
But to dire Magick impotently flies,
And sullen Rites, detested by the Skies:
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Nor thinks the Gods th' important Secret know.
The Place it self his impious Thought inspires,
And shews the Means to finish his Desires;
For near the Camp, th' Hemonian Witches Train
Tremendous dwelt, and held the heathy Plain:
No daring Fictions can transcend their Skill;
Things beyond Faith their wondrous Pow'rs fulfil.
Indulgent to their Charms, Thessalia's Coast
Does a large Birth of noxious Simples boast,
And Plants which force the Gods; the Rocks around
Their Songs affect, and heave the solid Ground.
And dire Medea on this baleful Shore,
Gather'd new Herbs, and added to her Store.
And shews the Means to finish his Desires;
For near the Camp, th' Hemonian Witches Train
Tremendous dwelt, and held the heathy Plain:
No daring Fictions can transcend their Skill;
Things beyond Faith their wondrous Pow'rs fulfil.
Indulgent to their Charms, Thessalia's Coast
Does a large Birth of noxious Simples boast,
And Plants which force the Gods; the Rocks around
Their Songs affect, and heave the solid Ground.
And dire Medea on this baleful Shore,
Gather'd new Herbs, and added to her Store.
Even Heav'n, which turns an unregarding Ear
To suppliant Nations and united Pray'r,
Their Verse inclines attentively to hear.
One Voice of theirs strikes thro' the vaulted Skies,
And dreadfully demands the Deities;
Ev'n such as listlessly abhor to guide
The gliding Globes and o'er the World preside.
Soon as their Murmur is perceiv'd on high,
The Gods o'erborne, leave all, and thither fly;
And the Chaldean and Egyptian Train,
Surpriz'd, exert their utmost Art in vain.
To suppliant Nations and united Pray'r,
Their Verse inclines attentively to hear.
One Voice of theirs strikes thro' the vaulted Skies,
And dreadfully demands the Deities;
Ev'n such as listlessly abhor to guide
The gliding Globes and o'er the World preside.
Soon as their Murmur is perceiv'd on high,
The Gods o'erborne, leave all, and thither fly;
And the Chaldean and Egyptian Train,
Surpriz'd, exert their utmost Art in vain.
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In stubborn Souls, by Fate averse from Love,
They plant the Passion, and the Flame improve:
In frozen Age th' extinguish'd Heat inspire,
And burn its Winter with a foreign Fire.
Philters their Art excels, and ev'n the Juice
The tender Tufts of new-born Foles produce,
Torn from the Front: Without the fev'rish Draught,
The madding Mind's destroy'd, and Rage transports the Thought.
Ev'n those whom neither Ties of nuptial Love,
Nor Beauty's radiant Blandishment cou'd move,
Their Magick Threads, which bear inscrib'd the Name,
With Pleasure kindle, and to Joy inflame.
They plant the Passion, and the Flame improve:
In frozen Age th' extinguish'd Heat inspire,
And burn its Winter with a foreign Fire.
Philters their Art excels, and ev'n the Juice
The tender Tufts of new-born Foles produce,
Torn from the Front: Without the fev'rish Draught,
The madding Mind's destroy'd, and Rage transports the Thought.
Ev'n those whom neither Ties of nuptial Love,
Nor Beauty's radiant Blandishment cou'd move,
Their Magick Threads, which bear inscrib'd the Name,
With Pleasure kindle, and to Joy inflame.
Great Nature's Course they interrupt: the Day,
The Night prolong'd, has halted with Delay:
The Spheres forget to move; and at their Nod
The whirling Orbs have all supinely stood;
And Jupiter, with Wonder, sees the Pole,
Urg'd onward by himself, refuse to roll;
Now sluicy Rains from ev'ry Quarter run,
And pitchy Clouds expunge the blazing Sun;
While all around from his Celestial Tow'r,
Jove hears surpriz'd th' unbidden Thunders roar.
They speak their Words, and shake abroad their Hair,
The frowning Clouds are gone, and Heav'n is clear.
When ev'ry Blast do's from the Deep abstain,
Indignant Billows boil the mounting Main;
And tho' the North its utmost Rage display,
No working Waves deform the setled Sea.
The stretching Canvass swells against the Wind;
This blows before, and that is fill'd behind.
And Torrents, which from ragged Rocks descend,
In the slope Fall the headlong Stream suspend.
Rivers run backward; and the fruitful Nile
In Summer ebbs, and starves the thirsty Soil.
Meander twining and in Volumes bow'd,
Rolls, unperplex'd, a strait unravell'd Flood.
Slow Arar starts, and rushing hasty on,
Throws his swift Current in the creeping Rhone:
The lofty Hills submit their tow'ring Heads,
Depress'd to Vallies, and to level Meads.
The driving Clouds above Olympus fly,
Which, wond'ring, sees their misty Shade on high.
The Night prolong'd, has halted with Delay:
The Spheres forget to move; and at their Nod
The whirling Orbs have all supinely stood;
And Jupiter, with Wonder, sees the Pole,
Urg'd onward by himself, refuse to roll;
Now sluicy Rains from ev'ry Quarter run,
And pitchy Clouds expunge the blazing Sun;
While all around from his Celestial Tow'r,
Jove hears surpriz'd th' unbidden Thunders roar.
They speak their Words, and shake abroad their Hair,
The frowning Clouds are gone, and Heav'n is clear.
When ev'ry Blast do's from the Deep abstain,
Indignant Billows boil the mounting Main;
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No working Waves deform the setled Sea.
The stretching Canvass swells against the Wind;
This blows before, and that is fill'd behind.
And Torrents, which from ragged Rocks descend,
In the slope Fall the headlong Stream suspend.
Rivers run backward; and the fruitful Nile
In Summer ebbs, and starves the thirsty Soil.
Meander twining and in Volumes bow'd,
Rolls, unperplex'd, a strait unravell'd Flood.
Slow Arar starts, and rushing hasty on,
Throws his swift Current in the creeping Rhone:
The lofty Hills submit their tow'ring Heads,
Depress'd to Vallies, and to level Meads.
The driving Clouds above Olympus fly,
Which, wond'ring, sees their misty Shade on high.
The Scythian Snows, when rigid Winter reigns,
Severely freezing on the bleaky Plains,
Without the Sun are thaw'd; from Ice unbound,
The Fountains flow, and tender is the Ground.
From the safe Shore the Surges they repel,
When Stars tempestuous the vex'd Ocean swell.
The stedfast Earth an inward Trembling feels,
And giddily the shaken Axis reels;
Push'd off obliquely by their pow'rful Cry,
The weighty Ball remov'd, discloses either Sky.
And ev'ry Creature of the noxious Kind
Fears and assists them, in their Sorc'rys join'd:
The savage Tiger and the Lion's Brood
Fawn at their Feet, and shun the Taste of Blood:
And the close Volumes of the folded Snake
Untwist before them, in the frozen Brake.
Their Art the mangled Vipers re-unites,
And Human Poison the swell'd Serpent splits.
Severely freezing on the bleaky Plains,
Without the Sun are thaw'd; from Ice unbound,
The Fountains flow, and tender is the Ground.
From the safe Shore the Surges they repel,
When Stars tempestuous the vex'd Ocean swell.
The stedfast Earth an inward Trembling feels,
And giddily the shaken Axis reels;
Push'd off obliquely by their pow'rful Cry,
The weighty Ball remov'd, discloses either Sky.
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Fears and assists them, in their Sorc'rys join'd:
The savage Tiger and the Lion's Brood
Fawn at their Feet, and shun the Taste of Blood:
And the close Volumes of the folded Snake
Untwist before them, in the frozen Brake.
Their Art the mangled Vipers re-unites,
And Human Poison the swell'd Serpent splits.
From whence this Labour to the Deities,
Their Herbs to follow, and attend their Cries?
What awful Compact? What surprizing Cause,
Necessity or Choice, to this Submission draws?
Does Piety conceal'd, this Grace procure?
Or silent Threats the strange Success assure?
Is the whole Heav'n obedient to their Reign?
Or does their Verse one certain God constrain,
Or Pow'r to work whatever they ordain?
For them the Stars drop headlong from on high,
And the clear Moon is darken'd in the Sky;
Sickly she shines, as when the spacious Shade
Of Earth, projected, does her Orb invade,
And struggling with the Charm, wheels down, to spew
Close on their Simples her envenom'd Dew.
Their Herbs to follow, and attend their Cries?
What awful Compact? What surprizing Cause,
Necessity or Choice, to this Submission draws?
Does Piety conceal'd, this Grace procure?
Or silent Threats the strange Success assure?
Is the whole Heav'n obedient to their Reign?
Or does their Verse one certain God constrain,
Or Pow'r to work whatever they ordain?
For them the Stars drop headlong from on high,
And the clear Moon is darken'd in the Sky;
Sickly she shines, as when the spacious Shade
Of Earth, projected, does her Orb invade,
And struggling with the Charm, wheels down, to spew
Close on their Simples her envenom'd Dew.
These Rites, which all the nightly Sisters use,
The dire Erichtho sourly does refuse,
And as debas'd with Sanctity accuse.
Inventive of new Arts, her hideous Head
She ne'er in Houses nor in Towns display'd,
But from the hollow Vault, and silent Tomb,
Expels the Ghosts, and lodges in its Womb.
Grateful to Hell, and privileg'd to hear
Th' Infernal Counsels, and their Secrets share;
To know the Stygian Realms, and blind Abode
Of the fell Manes and the Mystick God.
Nor Life nor Fate forbids: Her Looks obscene
Are plough'd with Wrinkles, and with Famine lean:
Sunk are her rheumy Eyes; her loathsome Sight
Is never purg'd by Heav'n's serener Light.
Her wasted Face a dreadful Paleness wears;
And thick before it hang her matted Hairs.
When a black Tempest rises in the Skies,
And blots the Stars, she from her Cavern hies;
With curs'd Design the dire Enchantress stalks,
And marks the Lightnings in her Midnight Walks.
The dire Erichtho sourly does refuse,
And as debas'd with Sanctity accuse.
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She ne'er in Houses nor in Towns display'd,
But from the hollow Vault, and silent Tomb,
Expels the Ghosts, and lodges in its Womb.
Grateful to Hell, and privileg'd to hear
Th' Infernal Counsels, and their Secrets share;
To know the Stygian Realms, and blind Abode
Of the fell Manes and the Mystick God.
Nor Life nor Fate forbids: Her Looks obscene
Are plough'd with Wrinkles, and with Famine lean:
Sunk are her rheumy Eyes; her loathsome Sight
Is never purg'd by Heav'n's serener Light.
Her wasted Face a dreadful Paleness wears;
And thick before it hang her matted Hairs.
When a black Tempest rises in the Skies,
And blots the Stars, she from her Cavern hies;
With curs'd Design the dire Enchantress stalks,
And marks the Lightnings in her Midnight Walks.
Touch'd with her Feet, the blasted Harvest dies,
And the pure Air her tainted Breath destroys.
No Heav'nly Pow'rs she venerates, nor prays
Their Aid, nor holy Sacrifices pays;
But feeds, with Gums from Fun'ral Off'rings torn,
The sullen Flames that on her Altars burn.
The Gods allarm'd, at her first dismal Call,
Immediately assent, and grant her all,
And dread a second Voice. While Life remains
Sound in the Limbs, and beats within the Veins,
The Man she buries, tho' the Fates design
A Length of Years, and to produce the Line;
And the stiff Carcass, with inverted Doom,
Breaks from the Burning, and escapes the Tomb.
Youths reeking Ashes, and the glowing Bones,
And blazing Torches, which before their Sons
The weeping Parents bear, her wonted Prey,
She fiercely seizes, and conveys away;
The Vests now scorch'd, the Relicks of the Pile,
And unctuous Coals yet fuming of their Spoil.
And the pure Air her tainted Breath destroys.
No Heav'nly Pow'rs she venerates, nor prays
Their Aid, nor holy Sacrifices pays;
But feeds, with Gums from Fun'ral Off'rings torn,
The sullen Flames that on her Altars burn.
The Gods allarm'd, at her first dismal Call,
Immediately assent, and grant her all,
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Sound in the Limbs, and beats within the Veins,
The Man she buries, tho' the Fates design
A Length of Years, and to produce the Line;
And the stiff Carcass, with inverted Doom,
Breaks from the Burning, and escapes the Tomb.
Youths reeking Ashes, and the glowing Bones,
And blazing Torches, which before their Sons
The weeping Parents bear, her wonted Prey,
She fiercely seizes, and conveys away;
The Vests now scorch'd, the Relicks of the Pile,
And unctuous Coals yet fuming of their Spoil.
But if preserv'd in Monuments of Stone,
She meets a Corse, whose vital Moisture's gone,
And the dry'd Marrow's hard, with hasty Rage,
On the torn Trunk, she does her Spite asswage;
Digs from their Sockets the clos'd Eyes, and chews
The sordid Excrements of Hands and Toes.
She champs the Halters, and obscenely gnaws
The throttling Noose in her polluted Jaws,
And from the Cross the lifeless Body draws.
The perish'd Entrails, pierc'd with soaking Show'rs,
The horrid Hag rapaciously devours;
And the parch'd Marrow, which the sultry Sun,
With fervid Rays, has stiffen'd in the Bone.
She meets a Corse, whose vital Moisture's gone,
And the dry'd Marrow's hard, with hasty Rage,
On the torn Trunk, she does her Spite asswage;
Digs from their Sockets the clos'd Eyes, and chews
The sordid Excrements of Hands and Toes.
She champs the Halters, and obscenely gnaws
The throttling Noose in her polluted Jaws,
And from the Cross the lifeless Body draws.
The perish'd Entrails, pierc'd with soaking Show'rs,
The horrid Hag rapaciously devours;
And the parch'd Marrow, which the sultry Sun,
With fervid Rays, has stiffen'd in the Bone.
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From Malefactors on the Tree, she steals
The gory Limbs, and crucifying Nails:
And oft suspended from the Gallows Height
Hangs, if the Fibres break not at her Bite.
When on the Field a naked Carcass lies,
Before wild Beasts and Birds, she fastens on the Prize;
Yet not with Hands or Knife the Flesh divides,
Till the Wolves Fangs have scarr'd the mangled Sides.
Nor from the Guilt of Murder she abstains,
But from the Throat the vital Crimson drains,
The panting Bowels takes, and empties all the Veins.
And Births abortive, for her various Spells,
From the rent Womb the wayward Witch compels;
Not in the way ordain'd by Nature's Laws,
But thro' a griesly Wound the wretched Fœtus draws.
When murd'rous Ghosts she wants, and Shades severe,
She makes them on the Spot, with cruel Care,
And recent Spirits instantly appear.
The gory Limbs, and crucifying Nails:
And oft suspended from the Gallows Height
Hangs, if the Fibres break not at her Bite.
When on the Field a naked Carcass lies,
Before wild Beasts and Birds, she fastens on the Prize;
Yet not with Hands or Knife the Flesh divides,
Till the Wolves Fangs have scarr'd the mangled Sides.
Nor from the Guilt of Murder she abstains,
But from the Throat the vital Crimson drains,
The panting Bowels takes, and empties all the Veins.
And Births abortive, for her various Spells,
From the rent Womb the wayward Witch compels;
Not in the way ordain'd by Nature's Laws,
But thro' a griesly Wound the wretched Fœtus draws.
When murd'rous Ghosts she wants, and Shades severe,
She makes them on the Spot, with cruel Care,
And recent Spirits instantly appear.
Vast is her Pow'r: all Deaths of ev'ry Kind
Serve for her Use, and in her Charms are join'd.
From dying Youth she strips the callow Down,
And with her left Hand crops the tender Crown.
And feigning oft the parting Kiss to give,
In Throes of Death as her own Kindred strive,
Stretch'd on the struggling Limbs, with dire Embrace,
She churns the Cheeks, and grinds the ruin'd Face,
Eats off the Tongue, to the dry Palate bound,
And thro' the livid Lips, with stifled Sound,
Speaks impious Orders to the Shades profound.
Serve for her Use, and in her Charms are join'd.
From dying Youth she strips the callow Down,
And with her left Hand crops the tender Crown.
And feigning oft the parting Kiss to give,
In Throes of Death as her own Kindred strive,
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She churns the Cheeks, and grinds the ruin'd Face,
Eats off the Tongue, to the dry Palate bound,
And thro' the livid Lips, with stifled Sound,
Speaks impious Orders to the Shades profound.
Soon as the Rumour of her Fame was spread
In Sextus' Ears, and Night's ascending Shade
Obscur'd the Pole; when now the radiant Sun
Had, under Earth, his neather Noon begun;
Darkling, attended by his Slaves, he strays
Thro' pathless Desarts, and untrodden Ways.
They search'd the Caverns of each hollow Tomb,
In hope to meet Erichtho in its Womb:
She was not there; but from afar they spy'd
Her famish'd Trunk upon a Mountain's Side,
Where lofty Hemus, from his tow'ring Brow
Descending, mixes with the Plains below.
In Sextus' Ears, and Night's ascending Shade
Obscur'd the Pole; when now the radiant Sun
Had, under Earth, his neather Noon begun;
Darkling, attended by his Slaves, he strays
Thro' pathless Desarts, and untrodden Ways.
They search'd the Caverns of each hollow Tomb,
In hope to meet Erichtho in its Womb:
She was not there; but from afar they spy'd
Her famish'd Trunk upon a Mountain's Side,
Where lofty Hemus, from his tow'ring Brow
Descending, mixes with the Plains below.
Employ'd in sullen Spells, she sat alone,
Framing new Arts to Magic Gods unknown.
And lest the Troops shou'd other Regions chuse,
And Thessaly the plenteous Carnage lose,
She makes her Cries, and casts her Dews around,
To fix the Battel on th' Emathian Ground.
There Deaths unnumber'd, and the reeking Gore
Of the whole World, she hopes to make her Store;
To rend the Limbs of Kings, to watch the Pyres,
And bear the glowing Ashes from the Fires;
To glean the Bones of Nobles on the Mead,
And gain at once a Nation of the Dead.
'Tis this she labours in her anxious Mind,
To what infernal Services design'd
Imperial Pompey's Bulk shou'd be, and where
The breathless Cæsar's Body she shall tear.
Framing new Arts to Magic Gods unknown.
And lest the Troops shou'd other Regions chuse,
And Thessaly the plenteous Carnage lose,
She makes her Cries, and casts her Dews around,
To fix the Battel on th' Emathian Ground.
There Deaths unnumber'd, and the reeking Gore
Of the whole World, she hopes to make her Store;
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And bear the glowing Ashes from the Fires;
To glean the Bones of Nobles on the Mead,
And gain at once a Nation of the Dead.
'Tis this she labours in her anxious Mind,
To what infernal Services design'd
Imperial Pompey's Bulk shou'd be, and where
The breathless Cæsar's Body she shall tear.
Whom busy'd thus, the Scandal of his Race,
Sextus approach'd, and thus accosts: O Grace
Of Thessaly, accustom'd here t' expound
All dark Events, and for thy Skill renown'd:
When lab'ring Fates push onward to their End,
Thou can'st arrest their Course, and often dost suspend.
O sage Enchantress, freely now declare
The dubious Fortune of the cruel War:
And know, that of no common Line I am,
But the great Pompey for my Father claim:
His Doom I follow, either, Lord of all,
With him I triumph, or with him I fall.
Tormenting Doubts my troubled Soul perplex,
But my steel'd Breast no certain Fears can vex.
Let not capricious Chance this Pow'r obtain,
T' oppress me blindly: try the Heav'nly Reign:
Or spare the Gods; and from the Ghosts below,
The Truth discover, and the Secret know.
Unlock th' Elysian Seats, and from his Cell
The griesly Figure of grim Death compel;
Make him reveal, whom, in the fatal Day,
He marks for Ruin, and designs his Prey.
Great is the Task desir'd, and worthy Thee,
To trace so dread a Doom in dark Futurity.
Sextus approach'd, and thus accosts: O Grace
Of Thessaly, accustom'd here t' expound
All dark Events, and for thy Skill renown'd:
When lab'ring Fates push onward to their End,
Thou can'st arrest their Course, and often dost suspend.
O sage Enchantress, freely now declare
The dubious Fortune of the cruel War:
And know, that of no common Line I am,
But the great Pompey for my Father claim:
His Doom I follow, either, Lord of all,
With him I triumph, or with him I fall.
Tormenting Doubts my troubled Soul perplex,
But my steel'd Breast no certain Fears can vex.
Let not capricious Chance this Pow'r obtain,
T' oppress me blindly: try the Heav'nly Reign:
Or spare the Gods; and from the Ghosts below,
The Truth discover, and the Secret know.
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The griesly Figure of grim Death compel;
Make him reveal, whom, in the fatal Day,
He marks for Ruin, and designs his Prey.
Great is the Task desir'd, and worthy Thee,
To trace so dread a Doom in dark Futurity.
Sooth'd with her Praise, the meagre Hag reply'd:
If for one Lot alone my Skill you try'd,
I cou'd constrain th' unwilling Gods, with Ease,
And make them answer what Demands I please.
'Tis giv'n my Art to save a single Breath,
When frowning Planets press a speedy Death.
In early Youth abrupt I close his Years,
To whom old Age was promis'd by the Stars.
But since a Chain of Causes link'd, descends
From the World's Birth, and all on this depends:
If ought you'd alter here, the Fates reclaim;
For such a Change affects the common Frame.
In this we own that fickle Fortune's Pow'r
Exceeds our Arts, and can assist you more:
Yet, if it will suffice you to foreknow
The Chances of the Field, so far I'll show;
A thousand Means, Earth, Heav'n, and Hell, the Sea,
The Fields and Mountains will the Truth display;
The readiest way is, from the neighb'ring Plain
To raise at once some Carcass newly slain;
Whose recent Organs unimpair'd are found,
And will pronounce a clear distinguish'd Sound:
Lest, frying in the Sun, the Pipes decay,
And whisp'ring Creaks, instead of Words, convey.
If for one Lot alone my Skill you try'd,
I cou'd constrain th' unwilling Gods, with Ease,
And make them answer what Demands I please.
'Tis giv'n my Art to save a single Breath,
When frowning Planets press a speedy Death.
In early Youth abrupt I close his Years,
To whom old Age was promis'd by the Stars.
But since a Chain of Causes link'd, descends
From the World's Birth, and all on this depends:
If ought you'd alter here, the Fates reclaim;
For such a Change affects the common Frame.
In this we own that fickle Fortune's Pow'r
Exceeds our Arts, and can assist you more:
Yet, if it will suffice you to foreknow
The Chances of the Field, so far I'll show;
A thousand Means, Earth, Heav'n, and Hell, the Sea,
The Fields and Mountains will the Truth display;
The readiest way is, from the neighb'ring Plain
To raise at once some Carcass newly slain;
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And will pronounce a clear distinguish'd Sound:
Lest, frying in the Sun, the Pipes decay,
And whisp'ring Creaks, instead of Words, convey.
She said; and doubles Night's involving Shade,
And muffles in a pitchy Cloud her Head;
Roams o'er th' unbury'd Host; the Beasts of Prey,
At her Approach, fly trembling far away;
The Birds their fasten'd Talons loose: among
The Dead she strides, with heedful Eyes along,
To chuse a Body; and with Caution tries,
Unpierc'd with Wounds, whose stretching Lungs will rise,
To form the Voice entire; and now are weigh'd
The Fates of all the Numbers of the Dead:
For shou'd she summon from th' Infernal Shore
Ev'n the whole Army, which expir'd before,
Hell wou'd obey, and render back again,
To fall in second Fight, the Troops already slain.
And muffles in a pitchy Cloud her Head;
Roams o'er th' unbury'd Host; the Beasts of Prey,
At her Approach, fly trembling far away;
The Birds their fasten'd Talons loose: among
The Dead she strides, with heedful Eyes along,
To chuse a Body; and with Caution tries,
Unpierc'd with Wounds, whose stretching Lungs will rise,
To form the Voice entire; and now are weigh'd
The Fates of all the Numbers of the Dead:
For shou'd she summon from th' Infernal Shore
Ev'n the whole Army, which expir'd before,
Hell wou'd obey, and render back again,
To fall in second Fight, the Troops already slain.
At length she fix'd her Choice; then strongly struck
In thro' the bleeding Throat, a brazen Hook;
To that a Rope she fasten'd; by the Thong,
O'er rugged Rocks she haul'd the Corpse along.
To her detested Haunt arriv'd at last,
Beneath the jutting Hill, the Witch the Body plac'd.
Tremendous was the Hold; the Dismal Den
Border'd on Hell, with little Space between:
Far sunk the Ground beneath; a low'ring Wood
Hung prone above, and thick the Forest stood:
The hideous Yews admit no chearful Ray,
Not the least Glimm'ring of imperfect Day;
But all lies smother'd in eternal Night,
Or only shines with Necromantic Light.
In Tenarus's Jaws the lazy Air
Less flaggy hangs, than the gross Vapours here.
Th' Infernal Sov'reigns hither send their Band,
(The Confines of each World) at her Command:
For tho' she rules the Fates, 'tis doubtful yet
If the Ghosts rise, or she descend to meet
The gliding Spirits, at their Limits set.
In thro' the bleeding Throat, a brazen Hook;
To that a Rope she fasten'd; by the Thong,
O'er rugged Rocks she haul'd the Corpse along.
To her detested Haunt arriv'd at last,
Beneath the jutting Hill, the Witch the Body plac'd.
82
Border'd on Hell, with little Space between:
Far sunk the Ground beneath; a low'ring Wood
Hung prone above, and thick the Forest stood:
The hideous Yews admit no chearful Ray,
Not the least Glimm'ring of imperfect Day;
But all lies smother'd in eternal Night,
Or only shines with Necromantic Light.
In Tenarus's Jaws the lazy Air
Less flaggy hangs, than the gross Vapours here.
Th' Infernal Sov'reigns hither send their Band,
(The Confines of each World) at her Command:
For tho' she rules the Fates, 'tis doubtful yet
If the Ghosts rise, or she descend to meet
The gliding Spirits, at their Limits set.
She chang'd her Looks, and readily assumes
Her Robes of Death, in which she haunts the Tombs;
The parti-colour'd Garment rudely wears,
And o'er her Face she shakes her flaky Hairs.
A Wreath of hissing Serpents binds her Head:
The Romans shudder'd with unusual Dread:
Which when she saw, with Sextus' deep Surprize,
Who, shiv'ring, fix'd upon the Ground his Eyes;
Dismiss your Fears, she cries, your Sight afford,
Life's wonted Form shall mildly be restor'd.
And so the Man shall speak, and such appear,
That ev'n the tim'rous unaghast may hear.
If Hell shou'd gape immense, and there disclose
Her fiery Lakes, and all her tort'ring Woes;
Or shou'd the Furies, and the Dog arise,
And the Gigantic Race, which shook the Skies;
Why, in my Presence, shou'd you view, with Fright,
The griesly Forms that tremble at my Sight?
Her Robes of Death, in which she haunts the Tombs;
The parti-colour'd Garment rudely wears,
And o'er her Face she shakes her flaky Hairs.
A Wreath of hissing Serpents binds her Head:
The Romans shudder'd with unusual Dread:
Which when she saw, with Sextus' deep Surprize,
Who, shiv'ring, fix'd upon the Ground his Eyes;
Dismiss your Fears, she cries, your Sight afford,
Life's wonted Form shall mildly be restor'd.
83
That ev'n the tim'rous unaghast may hear.
If Hell shou'd gape immense, and there disclose
Her fiery Lakes, and all her tort'ring Woes;
Or shou'd the Furies, and the Dog arise,
And the Gigantic Race, which shook the Skies;
Why, in my Presence, shou'd you view, with Fright,
The griesly Forms that tremble at my Sight?
Then, thro' a fresh Incision at the Breast
Warm Blood infuses, to revive the rest:
Wipes off the Gore, and ministers the Dews,
Which the cold Moon in ropy Gellies spews:
All dire Ingredients her sad Mixture frame;
Nature's imperfect Births, deform'd and lame.
The Foam of rabid Dogs, that Water shun;
The Lynx's Bowels, and Hyæna's Bone;
The Marrow of a Stag, which, living, fed
On swelling Serpents, in the Thickets bred;
The Fish that sailing Ships has strongly held,
When push'd by Waves, and by the Winds impell'd;
Green Dragon's ardent Eyes; the sounding Stone,
Which in their Nest the brooding Eagles own;
The flying Snakes of wild Arabia's Plain;
The Vipers, who beneath the ruddy Main,
Guard the rich Conchs which precious Pearls contain.
The Skin of Libyan Serpents, yet alive;
And Phœnix' Ashes, which the Flames survive:
With vulgar Juices of inferior Name,
And Plagues of various Sorts, conceal'd from Fame;
Spell'd Leaves, and Herbs, that, in their early Birth,
Her Mouth envenom'd, on their Mother Earth:
And all the Poisons, which, before unknown,
She had invented, and had made her own.
Warm Blood infuses, to revive the rest:
Wipes off the Gore, and ministers the Dews,
Which the cold Moon in ropy Gellies spews:
All dire Ingredients her sad Mixture frame;
Nature's imperfect Births, deform'd and lame.
The Foam of rabid Dogs, that Water shun;
The Lynx's Bowels, and Hyæna's Bone;
The Marrow of a Stag, which, living, fed
On swelling Serpents, in the Thickets bred;
The Fish that sailing Ships has strongly held,
When push'd by Waves, and by the Winds impell'd;
Green Dragon's ardent Eyes; the sounding Stone,
Which in their Nest the brooding Eagles own;
The flying Snakes of wild Arabia's Plain;
The Vipers, who beneath the ruddy Main,
Guard the rich Conchs which precious Pearls contain.
84
And Phœnix' Ashes, which the Flames survive:
With vulgar Juices of inferior Name,
And Plagues of various Sorts, conceal'd from Fame;
Spell'd Leaves, and Herbs, that, in their early Birth,
Her Mouth envenom'd, on their Mother Earth:
And all the Poisons, which, before unknown,
She had invented, and had made her own.
Then adds her Dissonance; by far more strong
Than all her Herbs, to charm the Gods along.
And first, she murmurs, with a hollow Voice,
Sounds undistinguish'd, and discordant Noise.
Barks like a Dog, and like a Wolf she howls,
Roars like wild Beasts, and hoots like fun'ral Owls.
The Serpent's Hissings, and the dashing Sound
Of beating Billows which the Rocks surround;
The Noise of whisp'ring Woods, ere Tempests move,
And the loud Roar of Thunder burst above,
Her single Voice express'd: She rais'd her Cry;
The far-resounding Yell is heard on high,
Hell echoes back beneath, and shakes th' affrighted Sky.
Than all her Herbs, to charm the Gods along.
And first, she murmurs, with a hollow Voice,
Sounds undistinguish'd, and discordant Noise.
Barks like a Dog, and like a Wolf she howls,
Roars like wild Beasts, and hoots like fun'ral Owls.
The Serpent's Hissings, and the dashing Sound
Of beating Billows which the Rocks surround;
The Noise of whisp'ring Woods, ere Tempests move,
And the loud Roar of Thunder burst above,
Her single Voice express'd: She rais'd her Cry;
The far-resounding Yell is heard on high,
Hell echoes back beneath, and shakes th' affrighted Sky.
Ye lashing Furies and avenging Pains,
Who rack the Guilty on the Stygian Plains;
Chaos unform'd, who with malignant Joy
Wou'dst ravage all, and endless Worlds destroy;
Thou neather Jove, constrain'd to bear the Load
Of boundless Life, unwillingly a God;
Styx, and Elysium's Field, whose holy Place
Admits no Shade of our Thessalian Race;
And Proserpine, who hat'st the chearful Light
Of Heaven, and thy once lov'd Mother's Sight;
Thou wond'rous Hecate, by whose triple Sway
The gloomy Mansions our Commands obey;
And thou the Porter of th' infernal Gate,
Whose craving Paunch expects the bloody Bait;
Ye fatal Sisters, who your Help must join
To re-unite the lately sever'd Line;
Thou griesly Boatman of the fiery Flood,
Whose Vessel oft has labour'd with the Load
Of Souls by me restor'd to vital Air;
Hear my Petition, and allow my Pray'r.
If with a guilty Voice, and foul with Gore,
I always call, and now your Aid implore;
And with abortive Births and reeking Brains,
Have often gorg'd the Crew that haunts your dreary Plains:
If Babes new-born I in your Fires have laid,
And the warm Bowels in the Chargers paid,
Let my Request be speedily obey'd.
I ask not Hell to render back to Light
An inmate Ghost, accustom'd to the Night;
The Shade I call, is just arriv'd beneath,
And hovers fresh within the Verge of Death;
Not yet transported to the farther Shore,
Charon had need but once convey him o'er.
Let him, remanded to his Corse, relate
To Pompey's Son, his Father's future Fate;
If civil Wars can meritorious prove,
And you, Destruction, Death and Slaughter love.
Who rack the Guilty on the Stygian Plains;
Chaos unform'd, who with malignant Joy
Wou'dst ravage all, and endless Worlds destroy;
85
Of boundless Life, unwillingly a God;
Styx, and Elysium's Field, whose holy Place
Admits no Shade of our Thessalian Race;
And Proserpine, who hat'st the chearful Light
Of Heaven, and thy once lov'd Mother's Sight;
Thou wond'rous Hecate, by whose triple Sway
The gloomy Mansions our Commands obey;
And thou the Porter of th' infernal Gate,
Whose craving Paunch expects the bloody Bait;
Ye fatal Sisters, who your Help must join
To re-unite the lately sever'd Line;
Thou griesly Boatman of the fiery Flood,
Whose Vessel oft has labour'd with the Load
Of Souls by me restor'd to vital Air;
Hear my Petition, and allow my Pray'r.
If with a guilty Voice, and foul with Gore,
I always call, and now your Aid implore;
And with abortive Births and reeking Brains,
Have often gorg'd the Crew that haunts your dreary Plains:
If Babes new-born I in your Fires have laid,
And the warm Bowels in the Chargers paid,
Let my Request be speedily obey'd.
I ask not Hell to render back to Light
An inmate Ghost, accustom'd to the Night;
The Shade I call, is just arriv'd beneath,
And hovers fresh within the Verge of Death;
86
Charon had need but once convey him o'er.
Let him, remanded to his Corse, relate
To Pompey's Son, his Father's future Fate;
If civil Wars can meritorious prove,
And you, Destruction, Death and Slaughter love.
Scarce had she spoke, and rais'd her sordid Head,
When hov'ring o'er the Corps, she saw the Shade,
Shiv'ring, and anxious of its former Pain,
And loth to try its irksome Jail again:
Thro' the torn Breast and mangled Limbs to glide,
The broken Bowels, and the wounded Side.
Unhappy Ghost! not privileg'd t' enjoy
Death's final Gift, and thus forbid to die.
Erichtho wonder'd at the Fates Delay,
Who thus presum'd her Charms to disobey;
And, fill'd with Rage, her brandish'd Whip she shakes,
And smites the Body with her hissing Snakes;
Then sends her Voice thro' the divided Ground,
And fills Hell's Caverns with the bellowing Sound.
When hov'ring o'er the Corps, she saw the Shade,
Shiv'ring, and anxious of its former Pain,
And loth to try its irksome Jail again:
Thro' the torn Breast and mangled Limbs to glide,
The broken Bowels, and the wounded Side.
Unhappy Ghost! not privileg'd t' enjoy
Death's final Gift, and thus forbid to die.
Erichtho wonder'd at the Fates Delay,
Who thus presum'd her Charms to disobey;
And, fill'd with Rage, her brandish'd Whip she shakes,
And smites the Body with her hissing Snakes;
Then sends her Voice thro' the divided Ground,
And fills Hell's Caverns with the bellowing Sound.
Ye cruel Sisters, why this backward Will
To do your Duty, and my Pray'r fulfil?
Why, with your ratt'ling Scourge, do ye delay
To lash the lingring Spright, and drive him on the Way?
For this, with your true Names I'll brand your Race,
And call Infernal Bitches, in Disgrace:
I'll drag you from the Shades of endless Night,
And fix you in the glaring Beams of Light;
Hale from your silent Urns and hollow Tomb,
Your secret Monuments, and welcome Gloom.
Thee, faithless Hecate, to the Gods I'll show,
In thy obscene polluted Form below;
Confirm each squalid Feature in thy Face,
And thus expose thee to th' Etherial Race,
Where thou appear'st with fair dissembled Grace.
I'll tell, what Fruits provok'd thy Appetite,
And doom'd thee forfeit to the King of Night;
The Truth of thy incestuous Love declare,
For which, ev'n Ceres chose to leave thee there.
Regardless Pluto, for this bold Disdain,
I'll cleave the Ground, and on the gloomy Plain
Throw down the rushing Light, and pour the Day a-main.
What! must I then pronounce his awful Name,
Who shakes the trembling Earth's disjointed Frame!
Who can, unhurt, the stiff'ning Gorgon face;
And cuts with sharper Thongs, Erynnis' fearful Race;
Whose large Dominions, and whose spacious Cell
Is founded deep beneath your upper Hell,
Unseen and dark; who, by the Stygian Flood
Swears, and then laughs to break the Truth he vow'd.
To do your Duty, and my Pray'r fulfil?
Why, with your ratt'ling Scourge, do ye delay
To lash the lingring Spright, and drive him on the Way?
87
And call Infernal Bitches, in Disgrace:
I'll drag you from the Shades of endless Night,
And fix you in the glaring Beams of Light;
Hale from your silent Urns and hollow Tomb,
Your secret Monuments, and welcome Gloom.
Thee, faithless Hecate, to the Gods I'll show,
In thy obscene polluted Form below;
Confirm each squalid Feature in thy Face,
And thus expose thee to th' Etherial Race,
Where thou appear'st with fair dissembled Grace.
I'll tell, what Fruits provok'd thy Appetite,
And doom'd thee forfeit to the King of Night;
The Truth of thy incestuous Love declare,
For which, ev'n Ceres chose to leave thee there.
Regardless Pluto, for this bold Disdain,
I'll cleave the Ground, and on the gloomy Plain
Throw down the rushing Light, and pour the Day a-main.
What! must I then pronounce his awful Name,
Who shakes the trembling Earth's disjointed Frame!
Who can, unhurt, the stiff'ning Gorgon face;
And cuts with sharper Thongs, Erynnis' fearful Race;
Whose large Dominions, and whose spacious Cell
Is founded deep beneath your upper Hell,
Unseen and dark; who, by the Stygian Flood
Swears, and then laughs to break the Truth he vow'd.
88
And now the Blood, fermenting in the Veins,
Feeds the black Wounds, and thro' the Body strains.
The vital Vessels feel the running Heat,
And in the Breast the trembling Fibres beat.
New Life returns, but Life with Death allay'd,
And thro' the Limbs a languid Vigor stray'd;
The Nerves, distended, their old Service found;
Nor by degrees the Body rose from Ground,
But stood erected, with a sudden Bound.
The waking Eyes forgotten Day behold,
And sleepily within their Sockets roll'd.
Nor dead, nor yet alive appears the Man,
Stiff are the Members, and the Face is wan.
Amaz'd, he stares at his recover'd Breath,
Thus hurry'd into Life, and snatch'd from Death.
But from his Lips no issuing Sounds arise;
For thus restor'd, his Voice and Tongue suffice,
At her Demands alone to make Replies.
Feeds the black Wounds, and thro' the Body strains.
The vital Vessels feel the running Heat,
And in the Breast the trembling Fibres beat.
New Life returns, but Life with Death allay'd,
And thro' the Limbs a languid Vigor stray'd;
The Nerves, distended, their old Service found;
Nor by degrees the Body rose from Ground,
But stood erected, with a sudden Bound.
The waking Eyes forgotten Day behold,
And sleepily within their Sockets roll'd.
Nor dead, nor yet alive appears the Man,
Stiff are the Members, and the Face is wan.
Amaz'd, he stares at his recover'd Breath,
Thus hurry'd into Life, and snatch'd from Death.
But from his Lips no issuing Sounds arise;
For thus restor'd, his Voice and Tongue suffice,
At her Demands alone to make Replies.
Heed my Desire, Erichtho cry'd, and see
What great Rewards I have reserv'd for thee;
Give faithful Answers, and when thou shalt die,
The Benefit of Death thou ever shalt enjoy.
Such Fun'rals shall attend thy last Remains,
Such Wood, with Spells, shall burn thee on the Plains,
That no united Incantations made
To force thee upward, shall affect thy Shade;
This is thy Recompence: Nor Herbs, nor Cries
Shall break thy heavy Sleep, and make thee rise.
Prophets and Oracles uncertain are,
And dark Responses doubtfully declare;
But they, who boldly dare inquire their Fate
Of Ghosts beneath, and knock at Pluto's Gate,
Are told the Truth by the revealing Spright:
Then clearly answer, and inform us right.
Name Things and Places, and in such a Tone
That the Fates Dictates may be plainly shown.
What great Rewards I have reserv'd for thee;
Give faithful Answers, and when thou shalt die,
The Benefit of Death thou ever shalt enjoy.
Such Fun'rals shall attend thy last Remains,
Such Wood, with Spells, shall burn thee on the Plains,
That no united Incantations made
To force thee upward, shall affect thy Shade;
89
Shall break thy heavy Sleep, and make thee rise.
Prophets and Oracles uncertain are,
And dark Responses doubtfully declare;
But they, who boldly dare inquire their Fate
Of Ghosts beneath, and knock at Pluto's Gate,
Are told the Truth by the revealing Spright:
Then clearly answer, and inform us right.
Name Things and Places, and in such a Tone
That the Fates Dictates may be plainly shown.
Charm'd into Speech, and by her Art inspir'd
To know, and answer all that she requir'd,
The mournful Shroud, with trickling Tears, begun:
To know, and answer all that she requir'd,
The mournful Shroud, with trickling Tears, begun:
Your Spells have summon'd me from Styx so soon,
I cou'd not see the cruel Parcæ's Line,
To learn the future Fortunes they design.
Yet this I gather from the shadowy Host:
The Roman Manes are in Factions tost,
Eternal Peace in impious Strife is lost:
These Leaders leave th' Elysian Seats, and those
The Depths of Tartarus, the Scene of Woes,
And what the secret Destinies prepare,
Their Gestures plainly intimate, for there
The happy Ghosts a mournful Count'nance bear.
The two devoted Decii I beheld,
And great Camillus, weeping in the Field;
The Curii too, and Sylla's surly Shade,
Who fierce on Fortune's giddy Change inveigh'd;
And Scipio, who his Offspring's Lot deplores,
Doom'd to be slain on Libya's desart Shores.
Cato, the Foe of Carthage, grieves the Fate
Of his brave Grandson falling for the State.
Brutus alone, who cast the Tyrant's Race
From Rome oppress'd, appears with chearful Face,
Among the pious Spirits; fill'd with Joy,
Serene his Looks, and sparkling is his Eye.
Fierce Catiline has shaken off his Chains,
And runs exulting o'er th' infernal Plains;
With Marius and Cethegus, and their Trains.
I saw the Pop'lar Drusii smiling there,
And a glad Mein the lawless Gracchi wear;
In the blind Dungeon pent, and strongly bound,
They clap their Hands, and loudly shout around.
With clam'rous Insolence, the guilty Band
The purer Seats of spotless Shades demand.
The gloomy Monarch does with Care provide
For coming Souls, and opes his Prisons wide:
Sharp-pointed Rocks and weighty Ir'ns prepares,
For the vile Victor in injurious Wars.
But thou, O Youth, no more with Fears possess'd,
With this Assurance feed thy anxious Breast;
The happy Souls, in their Elysian Fields,
Where the bright Scene immortal Pleasure yields,
Expect the Father and his shining Race,
And keep for Pompey a distinguish'd Place.
Nor envy thou the Conqu'ror's guilty Crown;
Short is his Term, and fading his Renown.
For the swift Hour arrives without Delay,
When all alike shall tread the downward Way.
Then rush to Death, and haste with Pride, to come,
Tho' meanly bury'd, or deny'd a Tomb,
And spurn the Manes of the Gods of Rome.
The Fight will only this Distinction make,
Who shall their Turn at Nile, and who at Tyber take;
And where the Chiefs shall fall: but ask not thou
Thy proper Fortune (best conceal'd) to know;
Which Fate, tho' I am silent, will reveal:
And clearer yet, thy Father's Shadow tell,
In fair Sicilia seen, with Doubts oppress'd,
Where to direct thee, and procure thee Rest.
Unhappy Creatures! Europe, Asia fear,
And Libya shun: your Fortune you must bear;
In Death divided, as your Triumphs were.
Ah! wretched House! to whom the World can yield
No Place securer than th' Emathian Field.
I cou'd not see the cruel Parcæ's Line,
To learn the future Fortunes they design.
Yet this I gather from the shadowy Host:
The Roman Manes are in Factions tost,
Eternal Peace in impious Strife is lost:
These Leaders leave th' Elysian Seats, and those
The Depths of Tartarus, the Scene of Woes,
And what the secret Destinies prepare,
Their Gestures plainly intimate, for there
The happy Ghosts a mournful Count'nance bear.
The two devoted Decii I beheld,
And great Camillus, weeping in the Field;
90
Who fierce on Fortune's giddy Change inveigh'd;
And Scipio, who his Offspring's Lot deplores,
Doom'd to be slain on Libya's desart Shores.
Cato, the Foe of Carthage, grieves the Fate
Of his brave Grandson falling for the State.
Brutus alone, who cast the Tyrant's Race
From Rome oppress'd, appears with chearful Face,
Among the pious Spirits; fill'd with Joy,
Serene his Looks, and sparkling is his Eye.
Fierce Catiline has shaken off his Chains,
And runs exulting o'er th' infernal Plains;
With Marius and Cethegus, and their Trains.
I saw the Pop'lar Drusii smiling there,
And a glad Mein the lawless Gracchi wear;
In the blind Dungeon pent, and strongly bound,
They clap their Hands, and loudly shout around.
With clam'rous Insolence, the guilty Band
The purer Seats of spotless Shades demand.
The gloomy Monarch does with Care provide
For coming Souls, and opes his Prisons wide:
Sharp-pointed Rocks and weighty Ir'ns prepares,
For the vile Victor in injurious Wars.
But thou, O Youth, no more with Fears possess'd,
With this Assurance feed thy anxious Breast;
The happy Souls, in their Elysian Fields,
Where the bright Scene immortal Pleasure yields,
91
And keep for Pompey a distinguish'd Place.
Nor envy thou the Conqu'ror's guilty Crown;
Short is his Term, and fading his Renown.
For the swift Hour arrives without Delay,
When all alike shall tread the downward Way.
Then rush to Death, and haste with Pride, to come,
Tho' meanly bury'd, or deny'd a Tomb,
And spurn the Manes of the Gods of Rome.
The Fight will only this Distinction make,
Who shall their Turn at Nile, and who at Tyber take;
And where the Chiefs shall fall: but ask not thou
Thy proper Fortune (best conceal'd) to know;
Which Fate, tho' I am silent, will reveal:
And clearer yet, thy Father's Shadow tell,
In fair Sicilia seen, with Doubts oppress'd,
Where to direct thee, and procure thee Rest.
Unhappy Creatures! Europe, Asia fear,
And Libya shun: your Fortune you must bear;
In Death divided, as your Triumphs were.
Ah! wretched House! to whom the World can yield
No Place securer than th' Emathian Field.
He said, and ceas'd; and mournful as he stands,
The welcome Death with piteous Looks demands:
For this a Charm was needful, since before
The Fates absolv'd their Right, and cou'd exert no more.
Erichtho now prepar'd a sudden Pyre,
The stalking Body hasted to the Fire;
Plac'd on the Pile, the smould'ring Flame she tines,
And to the Manes finally consigns;
Then to the Camp, with Sextus, took the Way:
The Skies began to blush with streaky Day;
But till they safe arriv'd, the friendly Night,
At her Command, repell'd the rising Light.
The welcome Death with piteous Looks demands:
For this a Charm was needful, since before
The Fates absolv'd their Right, and cou'd exert no more.
92
The stalking Body hasted to the Fire;
Plac'd on the Pile, the smould'ring Flame she tines,
And to the Manes finally consigns;
Then to the Camp, with Sextus, took the Way:
The Skies began to blush with streaky Day;
But till they safe arriv'd, the friendly Night,
At her Command, repell'd the rising Light.
FINIS.
| The Rape of Proserpine, From Claudian | |