And, while they seem attentive to the reins,
With intermingled snakes augment their manes.
Two brothers meet in fight, alike in face,
Sprung from one womb, tho' not from one embrace.
Now cease the signals of the war around,
Nor the hoarse horns, nor shriller trumpets sound,
2: When Pluto thunder'd from his gloomy seat, 591
The conscious earth thrice shook beneath their
feet.
Mars lash'd his steeds, and all the pow'rs of war
Retire from scenes they cannot but abhor.
Bellona quench'd in haste her flaming brand,
And laurell'd valour quits the guilty land.
The sister furies blush at their own deeds;
While to the walls the wretched vulgar speeds,
A just aversion mix'd with pity show,
And rain their sorrows on the crowd below.
Here hoary sires, a venerable throng, [long;"
Complain to Heav'n, and cry, "We've liv'd too
There sadder matrons their bare breasts display,
And kindly drive their eager sons away.
Astonish'd at the deed, infernal Jove
Opens each passage to the realms above.
The phantoms, freed, on ev'ry mountain's brow
Recline, spectators of their country's woe;
Around a mist of Stygian gloom they cast,
Yields all the reins, and flying swift as wind,
His camp, bis son, and army leaves behind.
Not paler look'd the ruler of the ghosts,
When he compar'd his own Tartarian coasts
With the more blissful scenes of Heav'n above,
By fav'ring lot assign'd to happier Jove,
Nor Fortune was indulgent to the fray,
But by a blameless errour of the way
She kept their rushing coursers long apart,
And kindly turn'd aside each guiltless dart.
At length the chiefs, impatient for the fight,
With spurs and loosen'd reins their steeds excite,
While direful omens from the gods above
651
Both armies to renew the battle move.
Through either camp a busy murmur rolls,
And glorious discord fires their inmost souls.
Oft passion urges them to rush between,
And intercept with arms the bloody scene;
But Piety, who view'd with equal scorn
The gods, and those of mortal mothers born,
Sat in a distant part of Heav'n, alone,
Nor habited as she was whilom known.
A gloomy discontented look she wore,
The snow-white fillet from her tresses tore,
And like a mother or a sister show'd
Her tender heart in tears, that freely flow'd.
And with a voice that pierc'd the skies, exclaim'd,
641. Not paler look'd] The following verses of Homer, with Mr. Pope's note on them, will clear up the mystery of this sinile, if there be any.
Τρεις γὰρ τ' ἐκ Κρόνου ἐσμὲν ἀδελφοὶ, ἐς τέκε Ρέση,
Ζεὺς καὶ ἐγώ, τρίταλος δ' Αίδης ἐνέξοισίν ἀνάσσων,
Τριχθὰ δὲ πάντα δίδασαι, ἕκαςος δ' έμμορε τιμῆς
Ἦτοι ἐγὼν ἔλαχον πολιὴν ἅλα ναι μεν αἰει
Παλλομένων, Αίδης δ' ἐλάχεν ζόφον ἠερόενται
Ζεὺς δ ̓ ἔλαχ ̓ ἐξανὸν εὐρὺν ἐν αἰθέρι καὶ νεφέλησι
Γαία δ' έτι ξυνή πάντων και μακρὸς ολυμπο
Glad that their greatest crimes are now surpast. 610 The guilty fates and Saturn's son she blam'd,
Soon as Adrastus was inform'd by fame,
The wrathful combatants, unaw'd by shame,
Had issued forth to close the bloody scene,
He urg'd his steeds, and kindly rush'd between.
Much was he reverenc'd for rank and age,
But what could these avail to calm their rage,
When nature's ties experienc'd no regard?
Yet thus he strives their conflict to retard.
"Shall then the Greek and Tyrian armies too
Your crime, as yet unmatch'd, unacted, view? 620
Can there be pow'rs above, and laws divine?
But come, your wrath at my request resign.
I ask thee, monarch! tho' we act as foes,
Yet know, our strife from our relation rose.
Of thee a son's obedience I demand;
Yet if he thus desire supreme command,
I lay aside the garb of sov'reign sway,
Argos and Lerna shall your laws obey."
He spake their stubborn purpose they retain,
Nor his sage counsels more their will restrain, 630
Than the sea listens to the sailor's cry,
When the surge bellows, and the storm runs high.
When he perceiv'd his mild entreaties vain,
And the two knights encount'ring on the plain,
While each, impatient, anxious first to wound,
Inserts his dart, and whirls the sling around,
He lash'd Arion (who, his silence broke,
The stern decrees of fate, portentous, spoke)
638. The stern decrees] The impropriety of this fiction is not so flagrant as some may apprehend it, and our author has the sanction of fable and history to justify his using it. Livy tells us of two oxen, who forewarned the city of Rome in these words, Roma cave tibi: and Pliny observes, that these animals were remarkable for vaticination. Est frequens in prodigiis priscorum, bovem esse locutum. Homer introduces the horses of Achilles prophesying their master's death and if he has done it without censure
from the critics, why may not Statius be allowed the same liberty after him?
Some have thought the Platonic philosophers
drew from hence the notion of their triad, (which
the christian Platonists since imagined to be an
obscure hint of the sacred Trinity.) The trias
of Plato is well known, rò autó av vas o dujingy,
ή τα κόσμο ψυχη. In his Gorgias he tells us, τὸν
"Ongor (autorem sc. fuisse) rs Tv înμingyixŵv Tziad-
ικής υποςατεως. See Proclus in Plat. Theol. lib. 1.
Lucian, Philopatr. Aristoteles de cœlo,
lib. 1. c. 1. speaking of the ternarian number
from Pythagoras, has these words: Ta gia núvla,
καὶ τὸ τρὶς παντη και πρὸς τας αριστείας τῶν θεῶν χρόν
μεθα τῷ ἀριθμῷ τούτω, καθάπες γαρ φασιν καὶ οἱ
Πυθαγόρειοι τὸ πᾶν καὶ τὰ πάντα τοῖς τρισὶν ώρισται·
Τελευτὴ γὰρ καὶ μέσον καὶ ἀρχὴ τὸν ἀριθμὸν ἔχει
ròv rỡ navlos tauta dè Tòv Tūs Tętádos. From which
passage Trapezuntius endeavoured very seriously
to prove that Aristotle had a perfect knowledge
of the Trinity. Duport, (who furnished me with
this note, and who seems to be sensible of the
folly of Trapezuntius) nevertheless, in his Guo-
mologia Homerica, has placed opposite to this
verse that of St. John: "There are three who
give testimony in Heaven, the Father, the Son,
and the Holy Ghost." I think this the strongest
instance I ever met with of the manner of think-
ing of such men, whose too much learning has
made them mad.
She soon would quit the starry realms of Jove,
And seek a mansion in the Stygian grove.
"Why was I form'd, O author of my birth,
To sway the sons of Heav'n, and sons of Earth? 670
Suspended are my honours, lost my fame,
And Piety is nothing but a name.
O madness, fatal madness of mankind,
And arts, by rash Prometheus ill design'd.
Far better had the world continued void,
And the whole species been at once destroy'd.
Try we howe'er their fury to restrain,
Some praise is due should we but try in vain.”
She spoke, and watching for a fav'ring time,
With swift descent forsook th' aërial clime.
Sad as she seem'd, a snowy trail of light
Pursu'd her steps, and mark'd her rapid flight.
Scarce had she landed, when, their wrath supprest,
The love of peace prevails in ev'ry breast.
Adown their cheeks the tears in silence steal,
And the two foes a transient horrour feel.
Fictitious arms, and male attire she wears,
And thus aloud her high behests declares.
"Hither, whoe'er fraternal friendship knows,
If yet we may restrain these brother-foes."
Then (for 1 ween Heav'n pitied) from each hand
The weapons fell, and fix'd the coursers stand.
E'en Fortune seem'd to spin a short delay,
And rush between to close the dreadful fray;
But stern Erinnys pierc'd the thin disguise,
And swift as lightning to the goddess flies.
"What urg'd thee, who to peace art more inclin'd,
To mingle in the wars of human kind?
Retire, advis'd, and give the vengeance way;
Ours is the field, and fortune of the day.
Why wert thou wanting, when a just pretence
Was offered thee to war in their defence?
When Bacchus bath'd his arms in kindred blood,
And Mars's serpent drank the guilty flood;
When the Sphinx fell, and Cadmus sow'd the plain;
When Laius by his son was rashly slain,
Or, guided by our torch, Jocasta press'd
The bed of incest?"-Thus the fiend address'd
The bashful pow'r, pursu'd her as she fled
With snakes, and wav'd her torch around her head.
The goddess draws the veil before her eyes,
And for redress to Jove all-potent flies.
Soon as she left the heroes, by degrees
Their ire returns, and nought but arms can please.
The perjur'd monarch first his jav'lin flings;
Full on the middle orb the weapon rings,
Nor pierc'd the gold, but bounding from the shield
Exhausts its blunted fury on the field.
The prince advances next, in act to throw,
But first bespeaks the pow'rs that rule below: 720
"Ye gods, of whom with more than hop'd success
The son of Laius whilom ask'd redress,
To this less impious pray'r your ears incline,
And realise the mischief I design.
712. And for redress] Barthius with more than usual propriety observes, that our author, like the great Homer, has nodded over this passage. "How," says he, "is it probable, that Piety should have recourse to Jupiter for redress, on whom, with all the other deities, she had thrown out the most bitter invectives, and threatened, as he informs us,
She soon would quit the starry realms of Jove, And seek a mansion in the Stygian grove.
Nor think, my rival slain, I wish to lire,
This guilty spear shall absolution give.
Give me but breath to tell him that I reign,
And by surviving, double all his pain."
The rapid spear, with forceful vigour cast,
Between the rider's thigh and courser past. 750
A double death the vengeful marksman meant,
But the wise chief his knee alertly bent;
Nor innocent of blood the lauce descends,
But the short ribs with glancing fury rends,
The steed wheels round, impatient of the reins,
And draws a bloody circle on the plains.
The prince, presuming it his rival's wound,
(He too believes it) with a furious bound
Springs forward, and advancing o'er the mead,
Pours all his fury on the wounded steed.
Reins mix'd with reins, and hand inlock'd in han
At once the falling coursers press the strand.
As ships, entangled by the wind, contend,
Their oars exchange, their mingled rudders rend,
And, while they struggle in the gloomy storm
To break the knot, a stricter union form;
Then, all the pilot's art in vain applied,
Together in a depth of sea subside;
Such was the scene of conflict. Art they s
By mutual anger on each other borne.
The sparks, that issue from each other's eyes,
Kindle their ire, and bid their fury rise:
Entwin'd in one their hands and swords were set,
So close, no interval was left bctween;
But mutual murmurs, as in stern embrace
They mix, supply the horn, and trumpet's place.
As when, with anger stung and jealous rage,
Two boars, the terrour of the wood, engage,
They gnash their iv'ry tusks, their bristles rise,
And lightning flashes from their glaring eyes; 760
While the pale hunter, from some mountain's
Stills the shrill-baying hounds, and views the fight Thus fought the chiefs; nor tho' they yet had found Their strength exhausted by a mortal wound,
727. Give me but breath] I am inclined to be lieve this was one of those passages that induced Mr. Pope to remark on our author's heroes, that an air of impetuosity runs through them all: the same horrid and savage courage appears in Ca paneus, Tydeus, Hippomedon, &c. They have a parity of character which makes them sen brothers of one family.-Lucan puts a wish in Cæsar's mouth, which is not very dissimilar. -Mihi funere nullo
Fst opus, O Superis lacerum retinete cadaver Fluctibus in mediis; desint mihi busta, rogusque, Dum metuar semper, teriâque expecter ab om Ph. L .
757. As when] The poet has here given us a image of the two combatants with great precision and exactness. If he had compared them to a circumstance of relation between the two heroes, boar and a lion fighting, he had not taken in the which constitutes the essence of the comparison. The hunter and his dogs very properly correspond duel. In short (as Mr. Pope observes of a simile with the soldiery, who were spectators of the in Homer) there is no circumstance of their present condition that is not to be found in the comparison, and no particular in the comparison that does not resemble the action of the heroes.
Yet flow'd the blood, the mischief was begun,
Nor aught the fiends could wish remain'd undone.
They grieve, the wrath of man can yet do more,
And praise the strict observance of their lore.
Each aims a deadly blow, and thirsts for blood,
Nor sees his own, that forms a purple flood.
Full on his foe th' impetuous exile flies,
Exhorts his hand, and ev'ry nerve applies:
Much he presumes upon his righteous cause,
And juster anger, then his falchion draws,
And in his brother's groin the steel inserts,
Where his ill-guarding mail the cincture girts.
The king, alarm'd as he began to feel
The cold invasion of the griding steel,
Retires beneath his target. He pursues,
As the wide wound and issuing gore he views, 780
And with a voice that shook the fields around,
Insults him thus, as still he quits his ground:
"Brother, why this retreat?-O transient sleep
And vigils, which th' ambitious ever keep!
Behold these limbs, by want and exile steel'd,
And learn to bear the hardships of the field;
Nor trust the fortune, that bestows a throne,
And rashly call, what she but lends, thy own."
The king as yet his vital breath retain❜d,
And ebbing still the stream of life remain'd.
Spontaneously supine he press'd the ground,
And meditates in death a fraudful wound.
His brother, hoping now the day his own,
Extends his hands to Heav'n, and in a tone
That shook Citharon, echoing thro' the skies,
Thus o'er his prostrate foe, insulting, cries: [breath,
"'Tis well. The gods have heard. He pants for
And his eyes darken with the shades of death.
Let some one bring the crown, and robe of state,
While yet he sees, and struggles with his fate." 800
He paus'd, inspir'd by some unfriendly pow'r,
To strip his rival in his dying hour,
As if his ill-earn'd spoils, in triumph borne,
Would raise his glory, and the fanes adorn.
The monarch, who, tho' feigning to expire,
Surviv'd to execute his vengeful ire,
When he perceiv'd the posture of his foe,
(His bosom obvious to a mortal blow)
Unseen his falchion raises, and supplies
He quits in haste, and drags to scenes of strife
His wretched load of unillumin'd life.
Invet'rate filth and clotted gore dispread
The silver honours of his aged head.
Dire to the view his hollow cheeks arise,
And frightful yawn the ruins of his eyes.
His right hand on the staff was seen to rest,
His left the shoulder of his daughter prest.
Such here on Earth would hoary Charon seem,
Should he forsake awhile the Stygian stream;
The stars would blush to view his hideous mien,
And Phoebus sicken at his form obscene.
Nor he himself would long avail to bear
The change of climate, and a foreign air,
While in his absence swells the living freight,
And ages on the banks his coming wait.
Soon as they reach'd the field, aloud he cries,
"O thou, on whom alone my age relies,
Direct me to my sons, and let me share
The fun'ral honours which their friends prepare."
The virgin, ignorant of his command,
Replies in groans, and lingers on the strand;
While chariots, arms, and warriors heap the way,
Their feet entangle, and their progress stay.
Scarce can his aged legs the sire sustain,
| And his conductress labours oft in vain.
Soon as her shrieks proclaim'd the fatal place,
He mix'd his limbs with theirs in cold embrace. 860
Speechless he lies, and murmurs o'er each wound,
Nor for a while his words a passage found.
But while their mouths beneath their helms he seeks,
His sighs give way, and all the father speaks.
"Does then affection bear again its part
In decent grief, and can this stubborn heart,
By wrongs inur'd, and by distresses steel'd,
To conqu'ring nature's late impressions yield?
Else why these tears, that long had ceas'd to flow,
And groans,
that more than vulgar sorrow show?
Accept then, what, as sons, you rightly claim, 871
(For well your actions justify the name.)
Fain would I speak, but know not which demands
The preference by birth :-then say whose hands
I grasp. How shall I give your shades their due,
And with what pomp your obsequies pursue?
O that my eyes could be restor❜d again,
With rage the strength that ebbing life denies, 810 And the lost power of renewing pain!
Then in his unsuspecting brother's heart
With joyful anger sheathes the steely part.
The prince rejoins." Then art thou yet alive,
And does thy thirst of vengeance still survive?
Base wretch! thy perfidy can never gain
A blissful mansion in th' Elysian plain.
Hence to the shades, there I'll renew my claim
Before the Cretan, who is said by fame
To shake the Gnossian urn, and woes prepare
For perjur'd kings, and all who falsely swear." 820
This said, he sunk beneath the deathful blow,
And with the weight of arms o'erwhelm'd his foe.
Go, cruel shades, the pains of Hell exhaust,
Mourn all ye fiends, the palm of guilt is lost.
Henceforward learn the sons of Earth to spare,
Nor punish deeds, which ill with these compare;
Deeds, that are yet unmatch'd in any clime,
Nor known in all the spacious walks of Time.
Let dark oblivion veil the guilty fight,
And kings alone th' enormous crime recite. 830
When Edipus had heard, the brothers fell
By mutual wounds, his subterraneous cell
831. When dipus] Of all the pictures which
To Heav'n, alas! too just my cause appear'd,
And too successfully my pray'rs were heard. 880
What god was near me when, by passion sway'd,
My vows to Pluto, and the fiends I paid,
And faithfully convey'd the curse to fate?
Charge not on me, my sons, the dire debate,
But on my parents, throne, infernal foes,
And injur'd eyes, sole authors of your woes.
My guiltless guide, and Pluto loth to spare,
I call to vouch the sacred truth I swear.
the pencil of poetry ever presented to the eye of the mind, none abounds in more masterly strokes and touches than this before us. Edipus appears here in all the pomp of wretchedness, (if I may use that expression,) and can only be equalled by Shakspeare's King Lear.
845. Nor he] Our author has taken the bint of this hypothesis from Ovid's Metamorphoses. Est via declivis, per quam Tyrinthius heros Restantem, contraque diem, radiosque micantes Obliquantem oculos, nexis adamante catenis | Cerberon attraxit.Lib. 8.
Thus worthily may I resign my breath,
Nor Laius shun me in the realms of death.
Alas! what bonds, what wounds are these I feel?
O loose your hands, no longer grasp the steel.
No longer let these hostile folds be seen,
And now at least admit your sire between."
Thus wail'd the wretched king, and sick of life
In secret sought the instrument of strife;
But she, suspicious of his rash designs,
Conceal'd it, whilst in rage he thus rejoins.
"Ye vengeful furies! can no sword be found?
Was all the weapon buried in the wound?”
His comrade, raising him, her grief supprest,
And much rejoic'd, that pity touch'd his breast.
Meanwhile, impatient of the vital light,
And dreading to survive the threaten'd fight,
The queen the sword of hapless Laius sought,
(A fatal spoil, with future mischiefs fraught,)
And, much complaining of the pow'rs above,
Her furious son, and her incestuous love,
Attempts to pierce her breast. Her falt'ring hand
Long struggled to infix the weighty brand, 910
At length with toil her aged veins she tore,
And purg'd the bed of guilt with issuing gore.
The fair Ismene to her rescue flew,
Her snowy arms around her mother threw,
To dry the wound her ev'ry care applied,
And rent her tresses, sorrowing at her side.
Such erst in Marathon's impervious wood
Erigone beside her father stood,
When, hast'ning to discharge her pious vows,
She loos'd the knot, and cull'd the strongest boughs:
But Fortune, who with joy malign survey'd 921
The hopes of either rival frustrate made,
Transfers the sceptre thence with envious hand,
And gives to Creon the supreme command.
Alas! how wretched was the term of fight!
Another rules, while they dispute their right.
Him all invite with one approving voice,
And slain Menaceus justifies their choice.
At length he mounts the long-contested throne
Of Thebes, to kings of late so fatal grown.
O flatt'ring empire, and deluding love
Of pow'r! shall such examples fruitless prove?
See, how he frowns upon his menial train,
And waves the bloody ensign of his reign!
What more, should Fortune all her store exhaust?
Behold the father in the monarch lost!
He whilom mourn'd his son's untimely death;
Now glories that he thus resign'd his breath.
Scarce bad he reign'd, the tyrant of a day,
When, as a sample of his future sway,
917. Such erst in Marathon's] Erigone was the daughter of Icarus; and being directed by her dog to the place where her father was slain, through excess of grief hung herself upon a neighbouring tree; but the branch breaking down with her weight, she was said to seek stronger boughs. At length she accomplished her purpose, and for her piety was translated into Heaven, and became the constellation we call Virgo.
The last funereal honours he denies
To the slain Greeks, expos'd to foreign skies;
And, ever mindful of an insult past,
Forbids their wand'ring shades to rest at last.
Then meeting, as he pass'd th' Ogygian gate,
The son of Laius, object of his hate,
At first his age and title he rever'd,
And for a while his eyeless rival fear'd:
But soon the king returns; and inly stung,
He cries with all the virulence of tongue :
"Avaunt, fell omen to the victors, hence,
Nor longer by delays my wrath incense;
Hence with thy furies, while thy safety calls;
And let thy absence purify our walls.
Thy wishes granted, and thy children slain,
What hopes, or impious vows can now remain?"
At this reproach, as some terrific sight,
His meagre cheeks stood trembling with affright.
Old age awhile recedes; his hand resigns
The staff, nor on his guide he now reclines: 96Q
But, trusting to his rage, with equal pride,
And bitterness of words, he thus reply'd.
"What tho'the slain no more thy thoughts engage,
And thou hast leisure here to vent thy rage,
Yet know, the crown, which late adorn'd my head,
Affords thee no pretence to wrong the dead,
And trample on the ruins of those kings,
From whose misfortunes thy short glory springs
Go on, and merit thus the regal sway.
But why this caution, and this long delay? 970
Give tyranny at once the length of reins,
And boldly act whate'er thy will ordains.
Would'st thou with exile punish an offence,
Know, exile argues too much diffidence
Of thy own pow'r: then check thy rage no more,
But auspicate thy reign with human gore.
Expect not I shall deprecate the stroke,
And on my knees thy clemency invoke:
Long since in me the source of fear is dry;
And death with all its horrours I defy.
Is banishment decreed?-The world I left,
Of all its joys spontaneously bereft;
And, long impatient of the scenes of light,
Fore'd from their orbs the bleeding balls of sight.
What equal punishment canst thou prepare?
I fly my country, and its tainted air.
It moves me not, in what so distant clime
I pass the wretched remnant of my time.
No land, I ween, will to my pray'rs deny
990
The little spot that I shall occupy.
Yet Thebes most pleases, as it gave me birth,
And lodges all my soul holds dear on Earth.
Th' Aonian sceptre long may'st thou possess,
And rule the Thebans with the same success
As Cadmus, 1, and Laius rul'd before;
Nor fortune's sunshine beam upon thee more.
May sons and loves like mine thy woes enhance,
Nor virtue guard thee from the strokes of chance,
fying them, is indisputably true; how little, then, ought those to repine, whoin Providence has placed in a lowly situation of life, secure from many temp'ations to which the great and the rich are exposed; or ought we not rather to look upon it as the most distinguishing mark of favour which could possibly be conferred upon us?
939. Scarce had he reign'd] Seneca, in his Thyestes, says: Ut nemo doceat fraudis, scelerunique viam, regnum docebit : a truth which the history of every age and country will evince to us. Μέγαν ίλθον καταπέψαι δ' δύνανται, (says Pin- 997. May sons] Perverse children are not dar) or in other words, Good fortune is less toler-reckoned the greatest evil of life by our poet only, able than bad. That we are the more liable to king Lear, inflaming nature against his daughter fall into vices, when we have the means of grati- Gonerill, says,
Much may'st thou love the life thou'rt doom'd to lose,
And sue for pardon, which thy foes refuse.
Suffice these curses to deform thy reign.
Then lead me, daughter, from his curs'd domain.
But why shouldst thou partake paternal woe?
Our potent monarch will a guide bestow."
The princess, fearing to be left behind,
Revers'd his pray'rs, and cries, on earth reclin'd,
"By this thy kingdom, and the sacred ghost
Of brave Menaceus, our support and boast,
Forgive, if, beated in his own defence,
His answer sounds like pride and insolence. 1010
From long complaints arose this haughty style;
Nor thee alone he glories to revile;
But e'en the gods, and I, who ne'er offend,
Oft prove the rancour which he cannot mend.
To quit this hated life is all his aim,
And fatal liberty his only claim;
For this he spends in obloquies his breath,
And hopes by scandal to procure his death.
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1007. By this thy kingdom] Edipus having exasperated Creon by his spirited, though insolent reply, the princess Antigone takes upon her to calm his anger; her oration is therefore framed with an opposite air to all which has been hitherto said, sedate and inoffensive. She begins with an apology for her father's disrespect; tells him, that the greatest favour he could confer would be to sentence him to death, sets her good wishes in opposition to his imprecations, reminds him of his enemy's former rank and dignity, but present inability to injure him, and concludes with evincing the ill policy of banishing him. In short, this specimen suffices to show Antigone's good sense, and the power of female oratory in mollifying the almost implacable hatred of Creon to her father.
1023. In gold, &c.] Barthius observes, that this passage is a contradiction of what the poet says in the first book, verse 191.
Yet then no gates of iv'ry did unfold
The palace, &c.
Notwithstanding this, I could have defended this
oversight with some seemingly ingenious conjec-
tures, after the example of those commentators
who never fail their author at a pinch; but as I
have no intention of introducing the Thebaid upon
the public as a perfect poem, I shall most willing-
ly subscribe to Barthius's opinion, that the pas-
sage before us is highly exceptionable.
Alas! of all his once-unnumber'd trains,
A single guide and comrade now remains.
Can he thy weal oppose? and wilt thou rage
Against an enemy, disarm'd by age?
Must he retire, because he loudly groans,
And grates thy ears with inauspicious moans?
Resign thy fears; at distance from the court
Hence shall he mourn, nor interrupt thy sport.
I'll break his spirit, urge him to retreat,
And close confine him to his gloomy seat.
But should he wander, exit'd and distrest,
What city would admit him as a guest ?
Wouldst thou to polish'd Argos he should go,
Crawl to Mycena in the garb of woe,
And, crouching at their vanquish'd monarch'sgate,
The rout and slaughter of our host relate?
Why should he thus expose the nation's crimes,
And open all the sorrows of the times?
Conceal whate'er we suffer; at thy hand
No mighty favours, Creon, we demand.
Pity his sorrows, and revere his age,
Nor wrong the dead in fulness of thy rage;
The slaughter'd Thebans may enjoy at least 1049
Funereal rites."-The prostrate princess ceas'd:
Her sire withdraws her, and with threats disdains
The grant of life, which scarcely she obtains.
The lion thus, who green in years had sway'd
The forests round, by ev'ry beast obey'd,
Beneath some arching rock in peace extends
His listless bulk; and tho' no strength defends
His age from insults, yet secure he lies;
His venerable form access denies:
But if a kindred voice pervade his ears,
Reflecting on himself, his limbs he rears,
And wishing much his youth restor❜d again,
With envy hears the monarchs of the plain.
At length compassion touch'd the tyrant's breast;
Yet he but grants a part of her request,
And cries," Not distant from his native coasts,
Of whose delights so much he vainly boasts,
Shall he be banish'd, so he cease to roam,
And leave inviolate each holy dome.
Let him possess his own Citharon's brow,
The wood contiguous, and the fields below, 1070
O'er which the shades of heroes, slain in fight,
Are seen to flit, and shun the loathsome light."
This said, his course th' usurper homeward bent,
Nor durst the crowd withhold their feign'd assent.
Meanwhile the routed Greeks by stealth retire,
And leave their camp expos'd to hostile fire.
To none their ensigns and their chiefs remain,
But, silent and dispers'd, they quit the plain;
And to a glorious death and martial fame,
Prefer a safe return, and living shame.
Night favours their design, assistance yields,
And in a cloud the flying warriors shields.
The Thebans, after some doubts concerning the reality of the enemy's flight, repair to the field
1053. The lion thus] This comparison is as just as language can make it. I cannot find, that Statius is indebted for it to any of his poetical predecessors. The non adeunda senectus is a beauty of diction I could not preserve in my translation, nor indeed will the English idiom admit of it.
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