While with rich gums the fuming altars blaze, Salute the god in numerous hymns of praise. Then thus the King: "Perhaps, my noble

mind.

guests, 656 These honoured altars, and these annual feasts To bright Apollo's awful name designed, Unknown, with wonder may perplex your Great was the cause; our old solemnities From no blind zeal or fond tradition rise; But saved from death, our Argives yearly pay These grateful honours to the god of day.

660

"When by a thousand darts the Python slain

664

With orbs unrolled lay covering all the plain,
(Transfixed as o'er Castalia's streams he hung,
And sucked new poisons with his triple tongue)
To Argos' realms the victor god resorts,
And enters old Crotopus' humble courts.
This rural prince one only daughter blessed, 670
That all the charms of blooming youth pos-
sessed;

Fair was her face, and spotless was her mind,
Where filial love with virgin sweetness joined.
Happy! and happy still she might have proved,
Were she less beautiful, or less beloved!
675
But Phoebus loved, and, on the flowery side
Of Nemea's stream, the yielding fair enjoyed:
Now, ere ten moons their orb with light adorn,
The illustrious offspring of the god was born.
The nymph, her father's anger to evade,
Retires from Argos to the sylvan shade;
To woods and wilds the pleasing burden bears,
And trusts her infant to a shepherd's cares.

680

"How mean a fate, unhappy child! is thine! Ah how unworthy those of race divine! 685 On flowery herbs in some green covert laid, His bed the ground, his canopy the shade,

690

He mixes with the bleating lambs his cries,
While the rude swain his rural music tries
To call soft slumbers on his infant eyes.
Yet even in those obscure abodes to live,
Was more, alas! than cruel fate would give,
For on the grassy verdure as he lay,
And breathed the freshness of the early day,
Devouring dogs the helpless infant tore,
695
Fed on his trembling limbs, and lapped the gore.
The astonished mother, when the rumour came,
Forgets her father, and neglects her fame;
With loud complaints she fills the yielding air,
And beats her breast, and rends her flowing

hair;

700

Then, wild with anguish, to her sire she flies: Demands the sentence, and contented dies. "But touched with sorrow for the deed too

late,

705

The raging god prepares to avenge her fate.
He sends a monster, horrible and fell,
Begot by furies in the depths of hell.
The pest a virgin's face and bosom bears;
High on her crown a rising snake appears,
Guards her black front, and hisses in her hairs:
About the realm she walks her dreadful round,
When night with sable wings o'erspreads the

ground,

711

Devours young babes before their parents' eyes, And feeds and thrives on public miseries. "But generous rage the bold Chorobus

warms,

Chorobus, famed for virtue as for arms.

715

Some few like him, inspired with martial flame,
Thought a short life well lost for endless fame.
These, where two ways in equal parts divide,
The direful monster from afar descried;
Two bleeding babes depending at her side; 720

Whose panting vitals, warm with life, she draws, And in their hearts imbrues her cruel claws. The youths surround her with extended spears; But brave Chorobus in the front appears, Deep in her breast he plunged his shining sword,

725

And hell's dire monster back to hell restored.
The Inachians view the slain with vast surprise,
Her twisting volumes and her rolling eyes,
Her spotted breast, and gaping womb imbrued
With livid poison, and our children's blood. 730
The crowd in stupid wonder fixed appear,
Pale even in joy, nor yet forget to fear.
Some with vast beams the squalid corpse en-
gage,

And weary all the wild efforts of rage.

The birds obscene, that nightly flocked to taste, With hollow screeches fled the dire repast: 736 And ravenous dogs, allured by scented blood, And starving wolves, ran howling to the wood. "But fired with rage, from cleft Parnassus'

brow

740

Avenging Phoebus bent his deadly bow,
And hissing flew the feathered fates below:
A night of sultry clouds involved around
The towers, the fields, and the devoted ground:
And now a thousand lives together fled,
Death with his scythe cut off the fatal thread,
And a whole province in his triumph led.. 746

"But Phoebus, asked why noxious fires ap

pear,

And raging Sirius blasts the sickly year, Demands their lives by whom his monster fell, And dooms a dreadful sacrifice to hell.

750

"Blessed be thy dust, and let eternal fame Attend thy manes, and preserve thy name, Undaunted hero! who, divinely brave,

In such a cause disdained thy life to save;
But viewed the shrine with a superior look, 755
And its upbraided godhead thus bespoke:

766

"With piety, the soul's securest guard, And conscious virtue, still its own reward, Willing I come, unknowing how to fear; Nor shalt thou, Phoebus, find a suppliant here. Thy monster's death to me was owed alone, 761 And 'tis a deed too glorious to disown. Tehold him here, for whom, so many days, Impervious clouds concealed thy sullen rays; For whom, as man no longer claimed thy care, Such numbers fell by pestilential air! But if the abandoned race of human kind From gods above no more compassion find; If such inclemency in heaven can dwell, Yet why must unoffending Argos feel The vengeance due to this unlucky steel? On me, on me, let all thy fury fall, Nor err from me, since I deserve it all; Unless our desert cities please thy sight, Or funeral flames reflect a grateful light. Discharge thy shafts, this ready bosom rend, And to the shades a ghost triumphant send; But for my country let my fate atone, Be mine the vengeance, as the crime my own!' "Merit distressed, impartial Heaven relieves : Unwelcome life relenting Phoebus gives; For not the vengeful power, that glowed with

rage,

770

775

781

With such amazing virtue durst engage.
The clouds dispersed, Apollo's wrath expired,
And from the wondering god the unwilling
youth retired.

785

Thence we these altars in his temple raise,
And offer annual honours, feasts, and praise;
These solemn feasts propitious Phoebus please:

These honours, still renewed, his ancient wrath

appease.

"But say, illustrious guest (adjoined the

790

King) What name you bear, from what high race you

spring?

The noble Tydeus stands confessed, and known Our neighbour prince, and heir of Calydon. Relate your fortunes, while the friendly night And silent hours to various talk invite."

795

The Theban bends on earth his gloomy eyes, Confused, and sadly thus at length replies : "Before these altars how shall I proclaim, O generous prince! my nation, or my name, Or through what veins our ancient blood has rolled?

Let the sad tale for ever rest untold!

800

Yet if propitious to a wretch unknown,
You seek to share in sorrows not your own;
Know then from Cadmus I derive my race,
Jocasta's son, and Thebes my native place." 805
To whom the King (who felt his generous
breast

Touched with concern for his unhappy guest)
Replies: Ah! why forbears the son to name
His wretched father, known too well by fame ?
Fame, that delights around the world to stray,
Scorns not to take our Argos in her way.
Ev'n those who dwell where suns at distance

roll,

811

In northern wilds, and freeze beneath the pole; And those who tread the burning Lybian lands,. The faithless Syrtes, and the moving sands; 815 Who view the western sea's extremest bounds, Or drink of Ganges in their eastern grounds; All these the woes of Edipus have known, Your fates, your furies, and your haunted town.