Let men avoid us, and on them we leap;
A glutted market makes provifion cheap.

In pure good will I took this jovial spark,
Of Oxford he, a moft egregious clerk.
He boarded with a widow in the town,
A trufty goffip, one dame Allifon.
Full well the fecrets of my foul the knew,
Better than e'er our parish-prieft could do.
To her I told whatever could befall :
Had but my husband piss'd against a wall,
Or done a thing that might have coft his life,
She and my niece-and one more worthy wife,
Had known it all: what most he would conceal,
To thefe I made no fcruple to reveal.

Oft has he blush'd from ear to ear for shame,
That e'er he told a fecret to his dame.

It fo befel, in holy time of Lent,
That oft a day I to this goflip went
(My husband, thank my stars, was out of town);
From house to houfe we rambled up and down,
This clerk, myself, and my good neighbour Alfe,
To fee, be feen, to tell, and gather tales.
Vifits to every church we daily paid,
And march'd in every holy mafquerade,
The stations duly and the vigils kept;
Not much we fafted, but scarce ever flept.
At fermons too I fhone in fecarlet gay;
The wafting moths ne'er fpoil'd my beft
The caufe was this, I wore it every day.
'Twas when fresh May her early bloffom yields,
This clerk and I were walking in the fields,
We grew fo intimate, I can't tell how,

array;

1 pawn'd my honour, and engag'd my vow,
If e'er I laid my husband in his urn,
That he, and only he, thould ferve my turn.
We straight struck hands, the bargain was agreed;
I ftill have fhifts against a time of need:
The mouse that always trufts to one poor hole,
Can never be a moufe of any foul.

I vow'd, I fcarce could fleep fince firft I knew him,

And durst be fworn he had bewitch'd me to him;
If e'er I flept, I dream'd of him alone,
And dreams foretel, as learned men have shown.
All this I faid; but dreams, firs, I had none :
I follow'd but my crafty crony's lore,
Who bid me tell this lie-and twenty more.

Thus day by day, and month by month we paft;
It pleas'd the Lord to take my spouse at last.
I tore my gown, I foil'd my locks with duft,
And beat my breafts, as wretched widows-must.
Before my face my handkerchief I spread,
To hide the flood of tears I did not fhed.
The good man's coffin to the church was borne ;
Around, the neighbours, and my clerk too, mourn.
But as he march'd, good gods! he fhow'd a pair
Of legs and feet, fo clean, fo ftrong, so fair!
Of twenty winters age he feem'd to be;
1 (to fay truth) was twenty more than he;
But vigorous ftill, a lively buxom dame;
And had a wonderous gift to quench a flame.
A conjuror once, that deeply could divine,
Affur'd me, Mars in Taurus was my fign.
As the stars order'd, fuch my life has been:

Fair Venus gave me fire and sprightly grace,
And Mars affurance and a dauntless face.
By virtue of this powerful conftellation,

I follow'd always my own inclination.

But to my tale: A month fcarce pafs'd away,
With dance and fong we kept the nuptial day."
All! poffefs'd I gave to his command,
My goods and chattels, money, house, and land;
But oft repented, and repent it ftill;

He prov'd a rebel to my foverign will:
Nay once, by heaven, he ftruck me on the face;
Hear but the fact, and judge yourselves the cafe.
Stubborn as any lionefs was I;

And knew full well to raife my voice on high;
As true a rambler as I was before,

And would be so, in spite of all he swore.
He against this right fagely would advise,
And old examples fet before my eyes,
Tell how the Roman matrons led their life,
Of Gracchus' mother, and Duilius' wife;
And close the fermon, as befeem'd his wit,
With fome grave fentence out of holy writ.
Oft would he fay, who builds his houfe on fands,
Pricks his blind horfe across the fallow lands;
Or lets his wife abroad with pilgrims roam,
Deferves a fool's cap, and long cars at home.
All this avail'd not; for whoe'er he be
That tells my faults, I hate him mortally;
And fo do numbers more, I boldly fay,
Men, women, clergy, regular, and lay.

My fpoufe (who was, you know, to learning
bred)

A certain treatife oft at evening read,

Where divers authors (whom the devil confound
For all their lies), were in one volume hound.

| Valerius, whole: and of St. Jerome, part;
Chryúppus and Tertullian, Ovid's art,
Solomon's Proverbs, Eloifa's loves;
And many more than fure the church approves,
More legends were there here of wicked wives,
Than good in all the Bible and faints lives.
Who drew the lion vanquish'd? 'Twas a man.
But could we women write as fcholars can, [ness,
Men fhould ftand mark'd with far more wicked-
Than all the fons of Adam could redrefs.
Love feldom haunts the breast where learning lies,
And Venus fets e'er Mercury can rise.

Thofe play the scholars, who can't play the men,
And ufe that weapon which they have, their pen;
When old, and past the relish of delight,
Then down they fit, and in their dotage write,
That not one woman keeps her marriage vow.
(This by the way, but to my purpose now).

It chanc'd my husband, on a winters night,
Read in his book, aloud, with strange delight,
How the first female (as the Scriptures fhow)
Brought her own spouse, and all his race, to woe.
How Samfon fell; and he whom Dejanire
Wrapp'd in th' envenom'd fhirt, and set on fire.
How curs'd Eryphile her lord betray'd,
And the dire ambush Clytemnestra laid.
But what most pleas'd him was the Cretan dame,
And hufband-bull-oh, monftrous fie for fhame!
He had by heart the whole detail of woe

How oft fhe fcolded in a day, he knew,
How many pifs-pots on the fage fhe threw;
Who took it patiently, and wip'd his head;
"Rain follows thunder," that was all he said.
He read, how Arius to his friend complain'd,
A fatal tree was growing in his land,
On which three wives fucceffively had twin'd
A fliding noofe, and waver'd in the wind.
Where grows this plant (reply'd the friend), oh,
where?

For better fruit did never orchard bear.
Give me fome flip of this moft blissful tree,
And in my garden planted fhall it be.

[prove,

Then how two wives their lords' deftruction Through hatred one, and one through too much love; That for her husband mix'd a poifonous draught, And this for luft an amorous philtre bought : The nimble juice foon feiz'd his giddy head, Frantic at night, and in the morning dead.

How fome with fwords their fleeping lords have flain,

And fome have hammer'd nails into their brain, And fome have drench'd them with a deadly potion; All this he read, and read with great devotion.

Long time I heard, and fwell'd, and blufh'd, and frown'd:

But when no end of thefe vile tales I found,
When still he read, and laugh'd, and read again,
And half the night was thus confum'd in vain ;
Provok'd to vengeance, three large leaves 1 tore,
And with one buffet fell'd him on the floor.
With that my husband in a fury role,
And down he fettled me with hearty blows.
I groan'd, and lay extended on my fide;
Oh! thou haft flain me for my wealth (I cry'd),
Yet I forgive thee-take my last embrace-
He wept, kind foul! and ftoop'd to kifs my face,
I took him fuch a box as turn'd him blue,
Then figh'd and cry'd, adieu, my dear, adicu!
But after many a hearty ftruggle past,
I condefcended to be pleas'd at last.
Soon as he faid, my mistress and my wife,
Do what you lift, the term of all your life;
I took to heart the merits of the cause,
And stood content to rule by wholesome laws;
Receiv'd the reins of abfolute command,
With all the government of house and land,
And empire o'er his tongue, and o'er his hand.
As for the volume that revil'd the dames,
'Twas torn to fragments, and condem'd to flames.

Now heaven on all my husbands gone bestow
Pleasures above, for tortures felt below:
That reft they wish'd for, grant them in the grave,
And bless thofe fouls my conduct help'd to fave!

THE FIRST BOOK OF

STATIUS HIS THEBAI S.

Tranflated in the Year 1703.

THE ARGUMENT.

DEDIPUS King of Thebes, having by miftake flain

put out his own eyes, and refigned the realm to his fons, Eteocles and Polynices. Being neglected by them, he makes his prayer to the fury Tifiphone, to fow debate betwixt the brothers. They agree at laft to reign fingly, each a year by turns, and the first lot is obtained by Eteocles Jupiter, in a council of the gods, declares his refolution of punishing the Thebans, and Argives alfo, by means of a marriage betwixt Polynices and one of the daughters of Adraftus King of Argos. Juno opposes, but to no effect; and Mercury is fent on a meffage to the Shades, to the ghost of Laïus, who is to appear to Etcocles, and provoke him to break the agreement. Polynices in the mean time departs from Thebes by night, is overtaken by a form, and arrives at Argos; where he meets with Tydeus, who had fled from Calydon, having killed his brother. Adrafus entertains them, having received an oracle from Apollo, that his daughters should be married to a boar and a lion, which he understands to be meant of thefe ftrangers, by whom the hides of thofe beafts were worn, and who arrived at the time when he kept an annual feaft in honour of that god. The rife of this folemnity he relates to his guests, the loves of Phobus and Pfamathe, and the ftory of Chorœbus. He inquires, and is made acquainted with their defcent and quality. The facrifice is renewed, and the book concludes with a hymn to Apollo. [The tranflator hopes he need not apologise for his choice of this piece, which was made almoft in his childhood; but, finding the verfion better than he expected, he gave it fome correction a few years afterwards.]

FRATERNAL rage, the guilty Thebes alarms,
The alternate reign deftroy'd by impious arms,
Demand our fong; a facred fury fires
My ravish'd breaft, and all the muse inspires.
O, goddefs, fay, fhall I deduce my rhymes
From the dire nation in its early times,
Europa's rape, Angenor's ftern decree,
And Cadmus fearching round the spacious fea?
How with the ferpent's teeth he fow'd the foil,
And reap'd an iron harvest of his toil?
Or how from joining ftones the city fprung,
While to his harp divine Amphion fung?
Or fhall I Juno's hate to Thebes rcfound,
Whofe fatal rage th' unhappy monarch found?
The fire against the son his arrows drew,
O'er the wide fields the furious mother flew,
And while her arms a fecond hope contain,
Sprung from the rocks, and plung'd into the main.
But wave whate'er to Cadmus may belong,
And fix, O, mufe! the barrier of thy fong
At Oedipus-from his difafters trace
The long confufions of his guilty race:
Nor yet attempt to ftretch thy bolder wing,
And mighty Cæfar's conquering eagles ting;
How twice he tam'd proud Ifter's rapid flood,
While Dacian mountains ftream'd with barbarous

blood;

Twice taught the Rhine beneath his laws to roll,

Or long before, with early valour, ftrove
In youthful arms t'affert the cause of Jove.
And thou, great heir of all thy father's fame,
Increase of glory to the Latin name!

O, blefs thy Rome with an eternal reign,
Nor let defiring worlds entreat in vain.

What though the flars contract their heavenly
Грасе,

And crowd their fhining ranks to yield thee place;
Though all the skies, ambitious of thy sway,
Confpire to court thee from our world away;
Though Phoebus longs to mix his rays with thine,
And in thy glories more ferenely fhine;
Though Jove himself no lefs content would be
To part his throne, and share his heaven with thee;
Yet ftay, great Cæfar! and vouchsafe to reign
O'er the wide earth, and o'er the watery main ;
Refign to Jove his empire of the skies,
And people heaven with Roman deities.

The time will come, when a diviner flame
Shall warm my breaft to fing of Cæfar's fame:
Meanwhile permit, that my preluding mufe
In Theban wars an humbler theme may choose :
of furious hate surviving death, the fings,
A fatal throne to two contending kings,
And funeral flames, that parting wide in air
Exprefs the difcord of the fouls they bear :
Of towns difpeopled, and the wandering ghafts
Of kings unbury'd in the wafted coafts;
When Dirce's fountain blufh'd with Grecian blood,
And Thetis, near Ifmenos' fwelling flood,
With dread beheld the rolling furges fweep,
In heaps, his slaughter'd fons into the deep.
What hero, Clio! wilt thou first relate?
The rage of Tydeus, or the prophet's fate?
Or how, with hills of flain on every fide,
Hippomedon repell'd the hoftile tide?

Or how the youth, with every grace adorn'd,
Untimely fell, to be for ever mourn'd?
Then to fierce Capaneus thy verse extend,
And fing with horror his prodigious end.

Now wretched Oedipus, depriv'd of fight,
Led a long death in everlasting night;
But, while he dwells where not a cheerful ray
Can pierce the darkness, and abhors the day,
The clear reflecting mind prefents his fin
In frightful views, and makes it day within;
Returning thoughts in endless circles roll,
And thousand furies haunt his guilty foul;
The wretch then lifted to th' unpitying skies
Those empty orbs from whence he tore his eyes,
Whose wounds, yet fresh, with bloody hands he
ftrook,

While from his breast these dreadful accents broke: Ye gods that o'er the gloomy regions reign, Where guilty fpirits feel eternal pain;

Thou, fable Styx whofe livid ftreams are roll'd Through dreary coasts, which I, though blind, behold:

Tifiphone, that oft has heard my prayer,
Affift, if Oedipus deferve thy care!

If you receiv'd me from Jocafta's womb,

And nurs'd the hope of mischiefs yet to come:
If leaving Polybus, I took my way

When by the fon the trembling father dy'd,
Where the three roads the Phocian fields divide:
If I the Sphynx's riddles durft explain,
Taught by thyfelf to win the promis'd reign:
If wretched I, by baleful furies led,
With monftrous mixture ftain'd my mother's bed,
For hell and thee begot an impious brood,
And with full luft thofe horrid joys renew'd;
Then felf-condemn'd to fhades of endless night,
Forc'd from thefe orbs the bleeding balls of fight:
O, hear, and aid the vengeance I require,
If worthy thee, and what thou mightst inspire!
My fons their old unhappy fire despise,
Spoil'd of his kingdom, and depriv'd of eyes;
Guideless I wander, unregarded mourn,
While these exalt their fceptres o'er my urn;
These fons, ye gods! who, with flagitious pride,
Infult my darkness, and my groans deride.
Art thou a father, unregarding Jove?
And fleeps thy thunder in the realms above?
Thou fury, then, fome lafting curfe entail,
Which o'er their children's children fhall prevail
Place on their heads that crown diftain'd with gore,
Which thofe dire hands from my flain father tore;
Go, and a parent's heavy curfes bear;
Break all the bonds of nature, and prepare
Their kindred fouls to mutual hate and war.
Give them to dare, what I might wish to fee,
Blind as I am, fome glorious villany!

Soon fhalt thou find, if thou but arm their hands,
Their ready guilt preventing thy commands:
Could' thou fome great, proportion'd mifchief
frame,

They'd prove the father from whofe loins they came,
The Fury heard, while on Cocytus' brink
Her fnakes unty'd fulphurcous waters drink;
But at the fummons roll'd her eyes around,
And snatch'd the starting ferpents from the ground.
Not half fo fwiftly fhoots along in air
The gliding lightning, or defcending ftar. [flight,
Through crowds of airy fhades the wing'd her
And dark dominions of the filent night;
Swift as the pafs'd, the flitting ghofts withdrew,
And the pale fpectres trembled at her view:
To th' iron gates of Tænarus fhe flies,
There spreads her dufky pinions to the skies.
The day beheld, and, fickening at the fight,
Veil'd her fair glories in the fhades of night.
Affrighted Atlas, on the distant shore,
Trembled, and fhook the heavens and gods he
bore.

Now from beneath Malea's airy height
Aloft fhe fprung, and steer'd to Thebes her flight;
With eager speed the well-known journey took,
Nor here regrets the hell fhe late forfook.
A hundred fnakes her gloomy vifage fhade,
A hundred ferpents guard her horrid head,
In her funk eye-balls dreadful meteors glow:
Such rays from Phoebe's bloody circles flow,
When, labouring with ftrong charms, the shoots
from high

A fiery gleam, and reddens all the sky.
Blood ftain'd her cheeks, and from her mouth

there came

A robe obfcene was o'er her shoulders thrown,
A dress by fates and furies worn alone.
She tofs'd her meagre arms; her better hand
In waving circles whirl'd a funeral brand:
A ferpent from her left was feen to rear
His flaming creft, and lash the yielding air.

But when the Fury took her ftand on high,
Where vaft Citharon's top falutes the sky,
A hifs from all the fnaky tire went round;
The dreadful fignal all the rocks rebound,
And through th' Achaian cities fend the found..
Oete, with high Parnaffus, heard the voice;
Eurotas' banks remurmur'd to the noise;
Again Leucothoë fhook at these alarms,
And prefs'd Palæmon clofer in her arms.
Headlong from thence the glowing Fury springs,
And o'er the Theban palace fpreads her wings,
Once more invades the guilty dome, and shrouds
Its bright pavilions in a veil of clouds.
Straight with the rage of all their race poffefs'd,
Stung to the foul, the brothers start from reft,
And all their furies wake within their breast.
Their tortur'd minds repining Envy tears,
And Hate, engender'd by fufpicious fears;
And facred thirst of fway; and all the ties
Of nature broke; and royal perjuries;
And impotent Defire to reign alone,
That fcorns the dull reverfion of a throne;
Each would the sweets of fovereign rule devour,
While Difcord waits upon divided power.

As ftubborn fteers by brawny ploughmen broke,
And join'd reluctant to the galling yoke,
Alike difdain with fervile necks to bear

Th' unwonted weight, or drag the crooked share,
But rend the reins, and bound a different way,
And all the furrows in confufion lay;
Such was the difcord of the royal pair,
Whom fury drove precipitate to war.
In vain the chiefs contriv'd a fpecious way,
To govern Thebes by their alternate sway;
Unjuft decree! while this enjoys the state,
That mourns in exile his unequal fate,
And the fhort monarch of a hafty year
Forefees with anguifh his returning heir.
Thus did the league their impious arms reftrain,
But fcarce fubfifted to the second reign.

Yet then, no proud afpiring piles were rais'd,
No fretted roofs with polifh'd metals blaz'd;
No labour'd columns in long order plac'd,
No Grecian flone the pompous arches grac'd;
No nightly bands in glittering armour wait
Before the fleepless tyrant's guarded gate;
No chargers then were wrought in burnifh'd gold.
Nor filver vafes took the forming mould;
Nor gems on bowls embofs'd were feen to fhine,
Blaze on the brims, and sparkle in the wine-
Say, wretched rivals! what provekes your rage?
Say, to what end your impious arms engage?
Not all bright Phoebus views in early morn,
Or when his evening beams the weft adorn,
When the fouth glows with his meridian ray,

For crimes like thefe, not all thofe realms fuffice, Were all those realms the guilty victor's prize!

But fortune now (the lots of empire thrown)
Decrees to proud Eteocles the crown :
What joys, oh tyrant! fwell'd thy foul that day,
When all were flaves thou couldst around furvey,
Pleas'd to behold unbounded power thy own,
And fingly fill a fear'd and envy'd throne!
But the vile vulgar, ever discontent,
Their growing fears in fecret murmurs vent;
Still prone to change, though ftill the flaves of state,
And fure the monarch whom they have, to hate;
New lords they madly make, then tamely bear,
And foftly curfe the tyrants whom they fear.
And one of those who groan beneath the sway
Of kings impos'd, and grudgingly obey,
(Whom envy to the great and vulgar fpite
With fcandal arm'd, th' ignoble mind's delight)
Exclaim'd-O Thebes! for thee what fates remain
What woes attend this inaufpicious reign!
Must we, alas! our doubtful necks prepare,
Each haughty masters yoke by turns to bear,
And ftill to change whom chang'd we still muft
fear?

Thefe now controul a wretched people's fate,
Thefe can divide, and thefe reverse the state:
Ev'n fortune rules no more :-O fervile land,
Where exil'd tyrants ftill by turns command!"
Thou fire of gods and men, imperial Jove!
Is this th' eternal doom decreed above?
On thy own offspring haft thou fix'd this fate,
From the first birth of our unhappy state;
When banish'd Cadmus, wandering o'er the main,
For loft Europa fearch'd the world in vain,
And, fated in Baotion fields to found

A rifing empire on a foreign ground,

First rais'd our walls on that ill-omen'd plain,
Where earth-born brothers were by brothers flain?
What lofty looks th' unrival'd monarch bears!
How all the tyrant in his face appears!
What fullen fury clouds his fcornful brow?

Gods! how his eyes with threatening ardour glow!
Can this imperious lord forget to reign,
Quit all his state, defcend, and serve again?
Yet who, before, more popularly bow'd,
Who more propitious to the fuppliant crowd?
Patient of right, familiar in the throne?
What wonder then? he was not then alone.
O wretched we, a vile fubmiffive train,
Fortune's tame fools, and flaves in every reign!

As when two winds with rival force contend,
This way and that, the wavering fails they bend,
While freezing Boreas and black Eurus blow,
Now here, now there, the reeling veffel throw:
Thus, on each fide, alas! our tottering state
Feels all the fury of refiftless fate;

And doubtful fill, and ftill diftracted stands,
While that prince threatens, and while this com-
And now th' almighty father of the gods [mands.
Convenes a council in the bleft abodes:
Far in the bright receffes of the skies,
High o'er the rolling heavens, a manfion lies,
Whence, far below, the gods at once furvey
The realms of rifing and declining day,

[fea.

Full in the midft, and on a starry throne,
The majefty of heaven superior shone;
Serene he look'd, and gave an awful nod,
And all the trembling spheres confefs'd the God.
At Jove's affent, the deities around
In folemn state the confiftory crown'd.
Next a long order of inferior powers
Afcend from hills, and plains, and shady bowers;
Those from whofe urns the rolling rivers flow;
And those that give the wandering winds to blow:
Here all their rage, and ev'n their murmurs cease,
And facred filence reigns, and univerfal peace.
A fhining fynod of majestic gods
Gilds with new luftre the divine abodes;
Heaven feems improv'd with a fuperior ray,
And the bright arch reflects a double day.
The monarch then his folemn filence broke,
The ftill creation liftened while he spoke;
Each facred accent bears eternal weight.
And each irrevocable word is fate.

How long shall man the wrath of Heaven defy,
And force unwilling vengeance from the sky!
Oh race confederate into crimes, that prove
Triumphant o'er th' eluded rage of Jove!
This weary arm can scarce the bolt fustain,
And unregarded thunder rolls in vain :
Th' o'erlabour'd Cyclop from his task retires;
Th' Æolian forge exhausted of its fires,
For this I fuffer'd Phoebus' fteeds to ftray,
And the mad ruler to mifguide the day,
When the wide earth to heaps of ashes turn'd,
And heaven itself the wandering chariot burn'd.
For this, my brother of the watery reign
Releas'd th' impetuous fluices of the main :
But flames confum'd, and billows rag'd in vain.,
Two races now, ally'd to Jove, offend:
To punish thefe, fee Jove himself defcend.
The Theban kings their line from Cadmus trace,
From godlike Perfeus those of Argive race.
Unhappy Cadmus' fate who does not know,
And the long series of fucceeding woe?
How oft the furies, from the deeps of night,
Arofe, and mix'd with men in mortal fight:
Th' exulting mother, ftain'd with filial blood;
The favage hunter, and the haunted wood?
The direful banquet why should I proclaim,
And crimes that grieve the trembling gods to
name?

Ere I recount the fins of thefe profane,
The fun would fink into the western main,
And rifing gild the radiant east again.
Have we not feen (the blood of Laius shed)
The murdering fon afcend his parent's bed,
Through violated nature force his way,
And ftain the facred womb where once he lay?
Yet now in darknefs and defpair he groans,
And for the crimes of guilty fate atones;
His fons with fcorn their eyelefs father view,
Infult his wounds, and make them bleed anew.
Thy curfe, oh! Oedipus, just heaven alarms,
And lets th' avenging thunderer in arms.
I from the root thy guilty race will tear,
And give the nations to the wafte of war.
Adraftus foon, with gods averfe, fhall join

Hence ftrife fhall rife, and mortal war fucceed;
The guilty realms of Tantalus fhall bleed:
Fix'd is their doom; this all-remembering breaft
Yet harbours vengeance for the tyrant's feast.

He faid; and thus the queen of heaven re

turn'd

(With fudden grief her labouring bofom burn'd):
Muft 1, whofe cares Phoroneus' towers defend,
Muft I, oh Jove, in bloody wars contend?
Thou know't thofe regions my protection claim,
Glorious in arms, in riches, and in fame :
Though there the fair Ægyptian heifer fed,
And there deluded Argus flept, and bled;
Though there the brazen tower was ftorm'd of old
When Jove defcended in almighty gold.
Yet I can pardon those obfcurer rapes,
Those bashful crimes difguis'd in borrow'd shapes;
But Thebes, where, fhining in celeftial charms,
Thou cam'ft triumphant to a mortal's arms,
When all my glories o'er her limbs were spread,
And blazing lightnings danc'd around her bed;
Curs'd Thebes the vengeance it deferves may
prove-

Ah, why thould Argos feel the rage of Jove?
Yet, fince thou wilt thy fifter queen controul,
Since ftill the luft of difcord fires thy foul,
Go, raze my Samos, let Mycene fall,
And level with the duft the Spartan wall;
No more let mortals Juno's power invoke,
Her fanes no more with eaftern incenfe fmoke,
Nor victims fink beneath the facred ftroke;
But to your Ifis all my rights transfer,
Let altars blaze and temples fmoke for her;
For her, through Egypt's fruitful clime renown'd,
Let weeping Nilus hear the timbrel found.
But if thou muft reform the ftubborn times,
Avenging on the fons the father's crimes,
And from the long records of diftant age
Derive incitements to renew thy rage;
Say, from what period then has Jove defign'd
To date his vengeance; to what bounds confin'd?
Begin from whence, where first Alpheus hides
His wandering ftream, and through the briny

tides

Unmix'd to his Sicilian river glides.

Thy own Arcadians there the thunder claim,
Whole impious rites difgrace the mighty name;
Who raise thy temples where the chariot stood
Of fierce Oenomäus, defil'd with blood;
Where once his steeds their favage banquet found
And human bones yet whiten all the ground.
Say, can thofe honours please? and canst thou
love

Prefumptuous Crete, that boasts the tomb of Jove!
And fhall not Tautalus's kingdom share
Thy wife and fifter's tutelary care?
Reverse, O Jove, thy too severe decree,
Nor doom to war a race deriv'd from thee;
On impious realms and barbarous kings impofe
Thy plagues, and curfe them with fuch fons as

thofe.

Thus, in reproach and prayer, the queen exprefs'd The rage and grief contending in her breaft; Unmov'd remain'd the ruler of the sky,