BOOK III.

THE STORY OF CADMUS.

When now Agenor had his daughter lost, He sent his son to search on every coast; And sternly bid him to his arms restore The darling maid, or see his face no more, But live an exile in a foreign clime: Thus was the father pious to a crime. The restless youth searched all the world around; But how can Jove in his amours be found? When tired at length with unsuccessful toil, To shun his angry sire and native soil, _10 He goes a suppliant to the Delphic dome; There asks the god what new-appointed home Should end his wanderings and his toils relieve. The Delphic oracles this answer give: 'Behold among the fields a lonely cow, Unworn with yokes, unbroken to the plough; Mark well the place where first she lays her down, There measure out thy walls, and build thy town, And from thy guide, Boetia call the land, In which the destined walls and town shall stand.' _20 No sooner had he left the dark abode, Big with the promise of the Delphic god, When in the fields the fatal cow he viewed, Nor galled with yokes, nor worn with servitude: Her gently at a distance he pursued; And, as he walked aloof, in silence prayed To the great power whose counsels he obeyed. Her way through flowery Panope she took, And now, Cephisus, crossed thy silver brook; When to the heavens her spacious front she raised, _30 And bellowed thrice, then backward turning, gazed On those behind, till on the destined place She stooped, and couched amid the rising grass. Cadmus salutes the soil, and gladly hails The new-found mountains, and the nameless vales, And thanks the gods, and turns about his eye To see his new dominions round him lie; Then sends his servants to a neighbouring grove For living streams, a sacrifice to Jove. O'er the wide plain there rose a shady wood _40 Of aged trees; in its dark bosom stood A bushy thicket, pathless and unworn, O'errun with brambles, and perplexed with thorn: Amidst the brake a hollow den was found, With rocks and shelving arches vaulted round. Deep in the dreary den, concealed from day, Sacred to Mars, a mighty dragon lay, Bloated with poison to a monstrous size; Fire broke in flashes when he glanced his eyes; His towering crest was glorious to behold, _50 His shoulders and his sides were scaled with gold; Three tongues he brandished when he charged his foes; His teeth stood jagy in three dreadful rows. The Tyrians in the den for water sought, And with their urns explored the hollow vault: From side to side their empty urns rebound, And rouse the sleepy serpent with the sound. Straight he bestirs him, and is seen to rise; And now with dreadful hissings fills the skies, And darts his forky tongues, and rolls his glaring eyes. _60 The Tyrians drop their vessels in their fright, All pale and trembling at the hideous sight Spire above spire upreared in air he stood, And gazing round him, overlooked the wood: Then floating on the ground, in circles rolled; Then leaped upon them in a mighty fold. Of such a bulk, and such a monstrous size, The serpent in the polar circle lies, That stretches over half the northern skies. In vain the Tyrians on their arms rely, _70 In vain attempt to fight, in vain to fly: All their endeavours and their hopes are vain; Some die entangled in the winding train; Some are devoured; or feel a loathsome death, Swoln up with blasts of pestilential breath. And now the scorching sun was mounted high, In all its lustre, to the noonday sky; When, anxious for his friends, and filled with cares, To search the woods the impatient chief prepares. A lion's hide around his loins he wore, _80 The well-poised javelin to the field he bore, Inured to blood, the far-destroying dart, And, the best weapon, an undaunted heart. Soon as the youth approached the fatal place, He saw his servants breathless on the grass; The scaly foe amid their corps he viewed, Basking at ease, and feasting in their blood, 'Such friends,' he cries, 'deserved a longer date; But Cadmus will revenge, or share their fate.' Then heaved a stone, and rising to the throw _90 He sent it in a whirlwind at the foe: A tower, assaulted by so rude a stroke, With all its lofty battlements had shook; But nothing here the unwieldy rock avails, Rebounding harmless from the plaited scales, That, firmly joined, preserved him from a wound, With native armour crusted all around. 97 The pointed javelin more successful flew, Which at his back the raging warrior threw; Amid the plaited scales it took its course, _100 And in the spinal marrow spent its force. The monster hissed aloud, and raged in vain, And writhed his body to and fro with pain; And bit the spear, and wrenched the wood away; The point still buried in the marrow lay. And now his rage, increasing with his pain, Reddens his eyes, and beats in every vein; Churned in his teeth the foamy venom rose, Whilst from his mouth a blast of vapours flows, Such as the infernal Stygian waters cast; _110 The plants around him wither in the blast. Now in a maze of rings he lies enrolled, Now all unravelled, and without a fold; Now, like a torrent, with a mighty force, Bears down the forest in his boisterous course. Cadmus gave back, and on the lion's spoil Sustained the shock, then forced him to recoil; The pointed javelin warded off his rage: Mad with his pains, and furious to engage, The serpent champs the steel, and bites the spear, _120 Till blood and venom all the point besmear. But still the hurt he yet received was slight; For, whilst the champion with redoubled might Strikes home the javelin, his retiring foe Shrinks from the wound, and disappoints the blow. The dauntless hero still pursues his stroke, And presses forward, till a knotty oak Retards his foe, and stops him in the rear; Full in his throat he plunged the fatal spear, That in the extended neck a passage found, _130 And pierced the solid timber through the wound. Fixed to the reeling trunk, with many a stroke Of his huge tail, he lashed the sturdy oak; Till spent with toil, and labouring hard for breath, He now lay twisting in the pangs of death. Cadmus beheld him wallow in a flood Of swimming poison, intermixed with blood; When suddenly a speech was heard from high, (The speech was heard, nor was the speaker nigh,) 'Why dost thou thus with secret pleasure see, _140 Insulting man! what thou thyself shalt be?' Astonished at the voice, he stood amazed, And all around with inward horror gazed: When Pallas, swift descending from the skies, Pallas, the guardian of the bold and wise, Bids him plough up the field, and scatter round The dragon's teeth o'er all the furrowed ground; Then tells the youth how to his wondering eyes Embattled armies from the field should rise. He sows the teeth at Pallas's command, _150 And flings the future people from his hand. The clods grow warm, and crumble where he sows; And now the pointed spears advance in rows; Now nodding plumes appear, and shining crests, Now the broad shoulders and the rising breasts: O'er all the field the breathing harvest swarms, A growing host, a crop of men and arms. So through the parting stage a figure rears Its body up, and limb by limb appears By just degrees; till all the man arise, _160 And in his full proportion strikes the eyes. Cadmus surprised, and startled at the sight Of his new foes, prepared himself for fight: When one cried out, 'Forbear, fond man, forbear To mingle in a blind, promiscuous war.' This said, he struck his brother to the ground, Himself expiring by another's wound; Nor did the third his conquest long survive, Dying ere scarce he had begun to live. The dire example ran through all the field, _170 Till heaps of brothers were by brothers killed; The furrows swam in blood: and only five Of all the vast increase were left alive. Echion one, at Pallas's command, Let fall the guiltless weapon from his hand; And with the rest a peaceful treaty makes, Whom Cadmus as his friends and partners takes: So founds a city on the promised earth, And gives his new Boeotian empire birth. Here Cadmus reigned; and now one would have guessed _180 The royal founder in his exile blessed: Long did he live within his new abodes, Allied by marriage to the deathless gods; And, in a fruitful wife's embraces old, A long increase of children's children told: But no frail man, however great or high, Can be concluded blessed before he die. Actæon was the first of all his race, Who grieved his grandsire in his borrowed face; Condemned by stern Diana to bemoan _190 The branching horns, and visage not his own; To shun his once-loved dogs, to bound away, And from their huntsman to become their prey. And yet consider why the change was wrought, You'll find it his misfortune, not his fault; Or if a fault, it was the fault of chance: For how can guilt proceed from ignorance?

THE TRANSFORMATION OF ACTÆON INTO A STAG.

In a fair chase a shady mountain stood, Well stored with game, and marked with trails of blood. Here did the huntsmen till the heat of day Pursue the stag, and load themselves with prey; When thus Actæon calling to the rest: 'My friends,' says he, 'our sport is at the best. The sun is high advanced, and downward sheds His burning beams directly on our heads; Then by consent abstain from further spoils, Call off the dogs, and gather up the toils; _10 And ere to-morrow's sun begins his race, Take the cool morning to renew the chase.' They all consent, and in a cheerful train The jolly huntsmen, loaden with the slain, Return in triumph from the sultry plain. Down in a vale with pine and cypress clad, Refreshed with gentle winds, and brown with shade, The chaste Diana's private haunt, there stood Full in the centre of the darksome wood A spacious grotto, all around o'ergrown _20 With hoary moss, and arched with pumice-stone. From out its rocky clefts the waters flow, And trickling swell into a lake below. Nature had everywhere so played her part, That everywhere she seemed to vie with art. Here the bright goddess, toiled and chafed with heat, Was wont to bathe her in the cool retreat. Here did she now with all her train resort, Panting with heat, and breathless from the sport; Her armour-bearer laid her bow aside, _30 Some loosed her sandals, some her veil untied; Each busy nymph her proper part undressed; While Crocale, more handy than the rest, Gathered her flowing hair, and in a noose Bound it together, whilst her own hung loose. Five of the more ignoble sort by turns Fetch up the water, and unlade their urns. Now all undressed the shining goddess stood, When young Actæon, wildered in the wood, To the cool grot by his hard fate betrayed, _40 The fountains filled with naked nymphs surveyed. The frighted virgins shrieked at the surprise, (The forest echoed with their piercing cries,) Then in a huddle round their goddess pressed: She, proudly eminent above the rest, With blushes glowed; such blushes as adorn The ruddy welkin, or the purple morn; And though the crowding nymphs her body hide, Half backward shrunk, and viewed him from aside. Surprised, at first she would have snatched her bow, _50 But sees the circling waters round her flow; These in the hollow of her hand she took, And dashed them in his face, while thus she spoke: 'Tell if thou canst the wondrous sight disclosed, A goddess naked to thy view exposed.' This said, the man began to disappear By slow degrees, and ended in a deer. A rising horn on either brow he wears, And stretches out his neck, and pricks his ears; Rough is his skin, with sudden hairs o'ergrown, _60 His bosom pants with fears before unknown. Transformed at length, he flies away in haste, And wonders why he flies away so fast. But as by chance, within a neighbouring brook, He saw his branching horns and altered look, Wretched Actæon! in a doleful tone He tried to speak, but only gave a groan; And as he wept, within the watery glass He saw the big round drops, with silent pace, Run trickling down a savage hairy face. _70 What should he do? Or seek his old abodes, Or herd among the deer, and skulk in woods? Here shame dissuades him, there his fear prevails, And each by turns his aching heart assails. As he thus ponders, he behind him spies His opening hounds, and now he hears their cries: A generous pack, or to maintain the chase, Or snuff the vapour from the scented grass. He bounded off with fear, and swiftly ran O'er craggy mountains, and the flowery plain; _80 Through brakes and thickets forced his way, and flew Through many a ring, where once he did pursue. In vain he oft endeavoured to proclaim His new misfortune, and to tell his name; Nor voice nor words the brutal tongue supplies; From shouting men, and horns, and dogs he flies, Deafened and stunned with their promiscuous cries. When now the fleetest of the pack, that pressed Close at his heels, and sprung before the rest, Had fastened on him, straight another pair _90 Hung on his wounded haunch, and held him there, Till all the pack came up, and every hound Tore the sad huntsman, grovelling on the ground, Who now appeared but one continued wound. With dropping tears his bitter fate he moans, And fills the mountain with his dying groans. His servants with a piteous look he spies, And turns about his supplicating eyes. His servants, ignorant of what had chanced, With eager haste and joyful shouts advanced, _100 And called their lord Actæon to the game: He shook his head in answer to the name; He heard, but wished he had indeed been gone, Or only to have stood a looker-on. But, to his grief, he finds himself too near, And feels his ravenous dogs with fury tear Their wretched master, panting in a deer.

THE BIRTH OF BACCHUS.

Actæon's sufferings, and Diana's rage, Did all the thoughts of men and gods engage; Some called the evils which Diana wrought, Too great, and disproportioned to the fault: Others, again, esteemed Actæon's woes Fit for a virgin goddess to impose. The hearers into different parts divide, And reasons are produced on either side. Juno alone, of all that heard the news, Nor would condemn the goddess, nor excuse: _10 She heeded not the justice of the deed, But joyed to see the race of Cadmus bleed; For still she kept Europa in her mind, And, for her sake, detested all her kind. Besides, to aggravate her hate, she heard How Semele, to Jove's embrace preferred, Was now grown big with an immortal load, And carried in her womb a future god. Thus terribly incensed, the goddess broke To sudden fury, and abruptly spoke. _20 'Are my reproaches of so small a force? 'Tis time I then pursue another course: It is decreed the guilty wretch shall die, If I'm indeed the mistress of the sky; If rightly styled among the powers above The wife and sister of the thundering Jove, (And none can sure a sister's right deny,) It is decreed the guilty wretch shall die. She boasts an honour I can hardly claim; Pregnant, she rises to a mother's name; _30 While proud and vain she triumphs in her Jove, And shows the glorious tokens of his love: But if I'm still the mistress of the skies, By her own lover the fond beauty dies.' This said, descending in a yellow cloud, Before the gates of Semele she stood. Old Beroe's decrepit shape she wears, Her wrinkled visage, and her hoary hairs; Whilst in her trembling gait she totters on, And learns to tattle in the nurse's tone. _40 The goddess, thus disguised in age, beguiled With pleasing stories her false foster-child. Much did she talk of love, and when she came To mention to the nymph her lover's name, Fetching a sigh, and holding down her head, ''Tis well,' says she, 'if all be true that's said; But trust me, child, I'm much inclined to fear Some counterfeit in this your Jupiter. Many an honest, well-designing maid, Has been by these pretended gods betrayed. _50 But if he be indeed the thundering Jove, Bid him, when next he courts the rites of love, Descend, triumphant from the ethereal sky, In all the pomp of his divinity; Encompassed round by those celestial charms, With which he fills the immortal Juno's arms.' The unwary nymph, insnared with what she said, Desired of Jove, when next he sought her bed, To grant a certain gift which she would choose; 'Fear not,' replied the god, 'that I'll refuse _60 Whate'er you ask: may Styx confirm my voice, Choose what you will, and you shall have your choice.' 'Then,' says the nymph, 'when next you seek my arms, May you descend in those celestial charms, With which your Juno's bosom you inflame, And fill with transport heaven's immortal dame.' The god surprised, would fain have stopped her voice: But he had swrorn, and she had made her choice. To keep his promise he ascends, and shrouds His awful brow in whirlwinds and in clouds; _70 Whilst all around, in terrible array, His thunders rattle, and his lightnings play. And yet, the dazzling lustre to abate, He set not out in all his pomp and state, Clad in the mildest lightning of the skies, And armed with thunder of the smallest size: Not those huge bolts, by which the giants slain, Lay overthrown on the Phlegræan plain. Twas of a lesser mould, and lighter weight; They call it thunder of a second-rate. _80 For the rough Cyclops, who by Jove's command Tempered the bolt, and turned it to his hand, Worked up less flame and fury in its make, And quenched it sooner in the standing lake. Thus dreadfully adorned, with horror bright, The illustrious god, descending from his height, Came rushing on her in a storm of light. The mortal dame, too feeble to engage The lightning's flashes and the thunder's rage, Consumed amidst the glories she desired, _90 And in the terrible embrace expired. But, to preserve his offspring from the tomb, Jove took him smoking from the blasted womb; And, if on ancient tales we may rely, Enclosed the abortive infant in his thigh. Here, when the babe had all his time fulfilled, Ino first took him for her foster-child; Then the Niseans, in their dark abode, Nursed secretly with milk the thriving god.

THE TRANSFORMATION OF TIRESIAS.

'Twas now, while these transactions passed on earth, And Bacchus thus procured a second birth, When Jove, disposed to lay aside the weight Of public empire and the cares of state, As to his queen in nectar bowls he quaffed, 'In troth,' says he, and as he spoke he laughed, 'The sense of pleasure in the male is far More dull and dead than what you females share.' Juno the truth of what was said denied; Tiresias therefore must the cause decide; _10 For he the pleasure of each sex had tried. It happened once, within a shady wood, Two twisted snakes he in conjunction viewed; When with his staff their slimy folds he broke, And lost his manhood at the fatal stroke. But, after seven revolving years, he viewed The self-same serpents in the self-same wood; 'And if,' says he, 'such virtue in you lie, That he who dares your slimy folds untie Must change his kind, a second stroke I'll try.' _20 Again he struck the snakes, and stood again New-sexed, and straight recovered into man. Him therefore both the deities create The sovereign umpire in their grand debate; And he declared for Jove; when Juno, fired More than so trivial an affair required, Deprived him, in her fury, of his sight, And left him groping round in sudden night. But Jove (for so it is in heaven decreed, That no one god repeal another's deed) _30 Irradiates all his soul with inward light, And with the prophet's art relieves the want of sight.

THE TRANSFORMATION OF ECHO.

Famed far and near for knowing things to come, From him the inquiring nations sought their doom; The fair Liriope his answers tried, And first the unerring prophet justified; This nymph the god Cephisus had abused, With all his winding waters circumfused, And on the Nereid got a lovely boy, Whom the soft maids even then beheld with joy. The tender dame, solicitous to know Whether her child should reach old age or no, _10 Consults the sage Tiresias, who replies, 'If e'er he knows himself, he surely dies.' Long lived the dubious mother in suspense, Till time unriddled all the prophet's sense. Narcissus now his sixteenth year began, Just turned of boy, and on the verge of man; Many a friend the blooming youth caressed, Many a love-sick maid her flame confessed: Such was his pride, in vain the friend caressed, The love-sick maid in vain her flame confessed. _20 Once, in the woods, as he pursued the chase, The babbling Echo had descried his face; She, who in others' words her silence breaks, Nor speaks herself but when another speaks. Echo was then a maid, of speech bereft, Of wonted speech; for though her voice was left, Juno a curse did on her tongue impose, To sport with every sentence in the close. Full often, when the goddess might have caught Jove and her rivals in the very fault, _30 This nymph with subtle stories would delay Her coming, till the lovers slipped away. The goddess found out the deceit in time, And then she cried, 'That tongue, for this thy crime, Which could so many subtle tales produce, Shall be hereafter but of little use.' Hence 'tis she prattles in a fainter tone, With mimic sounds, and accents not her own. This love-sick virgin, overjoyed to find The boy alone, still followed him behind; _40 When, glowing warmly at her near approach, As sulphur blazes at the taper's touch, She longed her hidden passion to reveal, And tell her pains, but had not words to tell: She can't begin, but waits for the rebound, To catch his voice, and to return the sound. The nymph, when nothing could Narcissus move, Still dashed with blushes for her slighted love, Lived in the shady covert of the woods, In solitary caves and dark abodes; _50 Where pining wandered the rejected fair, Till harassed out, and worn away with care, The sounding skeleton, of blood bereft, Besides her bones and voice had nothing left. Her bones are petrified, her voice is found In vaults, where still it doubles every sound.

THE STORY OF NARCISSUS.

Thus did the nymphs in vain caress the boy, He still was lovely, but he still was coy; When one fair virgin of the slighted train Thus prayed the gods, provoked by his disdain, 'Oh, may he love like me, and love like me in vain!' Rhamnusia pitied the neglected fair, And with just vengeance answered to her prayer. There stands a fountain in a darksome wood, Nor stained with falling leaves nor rising mud; Untroubled by the breath of winds it rests, _10 Unsullied by the touch of men or beasts: High bowers of shady trees above it grow, And rising grass and cheerful greens below. Pleased with the form and coolness of the place, And over-heated by the morning chase, Narcissus on the grassy verdure lies: But whilst within the crystal fount he tries To quench his heat, he feels new heats arise. For as his own bright image he surveyed, He fell in love with the fantastic shade; _20 And o'er the fair resemblance hung unmoved, Nor knew, fond youth! it was himself he loved. The well-turned neck and shoulders he descries, The spacious forehead, and the sparkling eyes; The hands that Bacchus might not scorn to show, And hair that round Apollo's head might flow, With all the purple youthfulness of face, That gently blushes in the watery glass. By his own flames consumed the lover lies, And gives himself the wound by which he dies. _30 To the cold water oft he joins his lips, Oft catching at the beauteous shade he dips His arms, as often from himself he slips. Nor knows he who it is his arms pursue With eager clasps, but loves he knows not who. What could, fond youth, this helpless passion move? What kindle in thee this unpitied love? Thy own warm blush within the water glows, With thee the coloured shadow comes and goes, Its empty being on thyself relies; _40 Step thou aside, and the frail charmer dies. Still o'er the fountain's watery gleam he stood, Mindless of sleep, and negligent of food; Still viewed his face, and languished as he viewed. At length he raised his head, and thus began To vent his griefs, and tell the woods his pain. 'You trees,' says he, 'and thou surrounding grove, Who oft have been the kindly scenes of love, Tell me, if e'er within your shades did lie A youth so tortured, so perplexed as I? _50 I who before me see the charming fair, Whilst there he stands, and yet he stands not there: In such a maze of love my thoughts are lost; And yet no bulwarked town, nor distant coast, Preserves the beauteous youth from being seen, No mountains rise, nor oceans flow between. A shallow water hinders my embrace; And yet the lovely mimic wears a face That kindly smiles, and when I bend to join My lips to his, he fondly bends to mine. _60 Hear, gentle youth, and pity my complaint, Come from thy well, thou fair inhabitant. My charms an easy conquest have obtained O'er other hearts, by thee alone disdained. But why should I despair? I'm sure he burns With equal flames, and languishes by turns. Whene'er I stoop he offers at a kiss, And when my arms I stretch, he stretches his. His eye with pleasure on my face he keeps, He smiles my smiles, and when I weep he weeps. _70 Whene'er I speak, his moving lips appear To utter something, which I cannot hear. 'Ah wretched me! I now begin too late To find out all the long-perplexed deceit; It is myself I love, myself I see; The gay delusion is a part of me. I kindle up the fires by which I burn, And my own beauties from the well return. Whom should I court? how utter my complaint? Enjoyment but produces my restraint, _80 And too much plenty makes me die for want. How gladly would I from myself remove! And at a distance set the thing I love. My breast is warmed with such unusual fire, I wish him absent whom I most desire. And now I faint with grief; my fate draws nigh; In all the pride of blooming youth I die. Death will the sorrows of my heart relieve. Oh, might the visionary youth survive, I should with joy my latest breath resign! _90 But oh! I see his fate involved in mine.' This said, the weeping youth again returned To the clear fountain, where again he burned; His tears defaced the surface of the well With circle after circle, as they fell: And now the lovely face but half appears, O'errun with wrinkles, and deformed with tears. 'All whither,' cries Narcissus, 'dost thou fly? Let me still feed the flame by which I die; Let me still see, though I'm no further blessed.' _100 Then rends his garment off, and beats his breast: His naked bosom reddened with the blow, In such a blush as purple clusters show, Ere yet the sun's autumnal heats refine Their sprightly juice, and mellow it to wine. The glowing beauties of his breast he spies, And with a new redoubled passion dies. As wax dissolves, as ice begins to run, And trickle into drops before the sun; So melts the youth, and languishes away, _110 His beauty withers, and his limbs decay; And none of those attractive charms remain, To which the slighted Echo sued in vain. She saw him in his present misery, Whom, spite of all her wrongs, she grieved to see. She answered sadly to the lover's moan, Sighed back his sighs, and groaned to every groan: 'Ah youth! beloved in vain,' Narcissus cries; 'Ah youth! beloved in vain,' the nymph replies. 'Farewell,' says he; the parting sound scarce fell _120 From his faint lips, but she replied, 'Farewell.' Then on the unwholesome earth he gasping lies, Till death shuts up those self-admiring eyes. To the cold shades his flitting ghost retires, And in the Stygian waves itself admires. For him the Naiads and the Dryads mourn, Whom the sad Echo answers in her turn; And now the sister-nymphs prepare his urn: When, looking for his corpse, they only found A rising stalk, with yellow blossoms crowned. _130

THE STORY OF PENTHEUS.

This sad event gave blind Tiresias fame, Through Greece established in a prophet's name. The unhallowed Pentheus only durst deride The cheated people, and their eyeless guide, To whom the prophet in his fury said, Shaking the hoary honours of his head; 'Twere well, presumptuous man, 'twere well for thee If thou wert eyeless too, and blind, like me: For the time comes, nay, 'tis already here, When the young god's solemnities appear; _10 Which, if thou dost not with just rites adorn, Thy impious carcase, into pieces torn, Shall strew the woods, and hang on every thorn. Then, then, remember what I now foretell, And own the blind Tiresias saw too well.' Still Pentheus scorns him, and derides his skill, But time did all the promised threats fulfil. For now through prostrate Greece young Bacchus rode, Whilst howling matrons celebrate the god. All ranks and sexes to his orgies ran, _20 To mingle in the pomps, and fill the train. When Pentheus thus his wicked rage express'd; 'What madness, Thebans, has your soul possess'd? Can hollow timbrels, can a drunken shout, And the lewd clamours of a beastly rout, Thus quell your courage? can the weak alarm Of women's yells those stubborn souls disarm, Whom nor the sword nor trumpet e'er could fright, Nor the loud din and horror of a fight? And you, our sires, who left your old abodes, _30 And fixed in foreign earth your country gods; Will you without a stroke your city yield, And poorly quit an undisputed field? But you, whose youth and vigour should inspire Heroic warmth, and kindle martial fire, Whom burnished arms and crested helmets grace, Not flowery garlands and a painted face; Remember him to whom you stand allied: The serpent for his well of waters died. He fought the strong; do you his courage show, _40 And gain a conquest o'er a feeble foe. If Thebes must fall, oh might the Fates afford A nobler doom from famine, fire, or sword! Then might the Thebans perish with renown: But now a beardless victor sacks the town; Whom nor the prancing steed, nor ponderous shield, Nor the hacked helmet, nor the dusty field, But the soft joys of luxury and ease, The purple vests, and flowery garlands, please. Stand then aside, I'll make the counterfeit _50 Renounce his godhead, and confess the cheat. Acrisius from the Grecian walls repelled This boasted power; why then should Pentheus yield? Go quickly, drag the audacious boy to me; I'll try the force of his divinity.' Thus did the audacious wretch those rites profane; His friends dissuade the audacious wretch in vain; In vain his grandsire urged him to give o'er His impious threats; the wretch but raves the more. So have I seen a river gently glide, _60 In a smooth course and inoffensive tide; But if with dams its current we restrain, It bears down all, and foams along the plain. But now his servants came besmeared with blood, Sent by their haughty prince to seize the god; The god they found not in the frantic throng But dragged a zealous votary along.

THE MARINERS TRANSFORMED TO DOLPHINS.

Him Pentheus viewed with fury in his look, And scarce withheld his hands, while thus he spoke: 'Vile slave! whom speedy vengeance shall pursue, And terrify thy base, seditious crew: Thy country and thy parentage reveal, And why thou join'st in these mad orgies tell.' The captive views him with undaunted eyes, And, armed with inward innocence, replies. 'From high Meonia's rocky shores I came, Of poor descent, Acætes is my name: _10 My sire was meanly born; no oxen ploughed His fruitful fields, nor in his pastures lowed. His whole estate within the waters lay; With lines and hooks he caught the finny prey. His art was all his livelihood; which he Thus with his dying lips bequeathed to me: In streams, my boy, and rivers, take thy chance; There swims,' said he, 'thy whole inheritance. 'Long did I live on this poor legacy; Till tired with rocks, and my own native sky, _20 To arts of navigation I inclined, Observed the turns and changes of the wind: Learned the fit havens, and began to note The stormy Hyades, the rainy Goat, The bright Täygete, and the shining Bears, With all the sailor's catalogue of stars. 'Once, as by chance for Delos I designed, My vessel, driven by a strong gust of wind, Moored in a Chian creek; ashore I went, And all the following night in Chios spent. _30 When morning rose, I sent my mates to bring Supplies of water from a neighbouring spring, Whilst I the motion of the winds explored; Then summoned in my crew, and went aboard. Opheltes heard my summons, and with joy Brought to the shore a soft and lovely boy, With more than female sweetness in his look, Whom straggling in the neighbouring fields he took. With fumes of wine the little captive glows, And nods with sleep, and staggers as he goes. _40 'I viewed him nicely, and began to trace Each heavenly feature, each immortal grace, And saw divinity in all his face. "I know not who," said I, "this god should be; But that he is a god I plainly see: And thou, whoe'er thou art, excuse the force These men have used; and, oh! befriend our course!" "Pray not for us," the nimble Dictys cried, Dictys, that could the main-top-mast bestride, And down the ropes with active vigour slide. _50 To the same purpose old Epopeus spoke, Who overlooked the oars, and timed the stroke; The same the pilot, and the same the rest; Such impious avarice their souls possessed. "Nay, heaven forbid that I should bear away Within my vessel so divine a prey," Said I; and stood to hinder their intent: When Lycabas, a wretch for murder sent From Tuscany, to suffer banishment, With his clenched fist had struck me overboard, _60 Had not my hands, in falling, grasped a cord. 'His base confederates the fact approve; When Bacchus (for 'twas he) began to move, Waked by the noise and clamours which they raised; And shook his drowsy limbs, and round him gazed: "What means this noise?" he cries; "am I betrayed? All! whither, whither must I be conveyed?" "Fear not," said Proreus, "child, but tell us where You wish to land, and trust our friendly care." "To Naxos then direct your course," said he; _70 "Naxos a hospitable port shall be To each of you, a joyful home to me." By every god that rules the sea or sky, The perjured villains promise to comply, And bid me hasten to unmoor the ship. With eager joy I launch into the deep; And, heedless of the fraud, for Naxos stand: They whisper oft, and beckon with the hand, And give me signs, all anxious for their prey, To tack about, and steer another way. _80 "Then let some other to my post succeed," Said I, "I'm guiltless of so foul a deed." "What," says Ethalion, "must the ship's whole crew Follow your humour, and depend on you?" And straight himself he seated at the prore, And tacked about, and sought another shore. 'The beauteous youth now found himself betrayed, And from the deck the rising waves surveyed, And seemed to weep, and as he wept he said; "And do you thus my easy faith beguile? _90 Thus do you bear me to my native isle? Will such a multitude of men employ Their strength against a weak, defenceless boy?" 'In vain did I the godlike youth deplore, The more I begged, they thwarted me the more. And now by all the gods in heaven that hear This solemn oath, by Bacchus' self, I swear, The mighty miracle that did ensue, Although it seems beyond belief, is true. The vessel, fixed and rooted in the flood, _100 Unmoved by all the beating billows stood. In vain the mariners would plough the main With sails unfurled, and strike their oars in vain; Around their oars a twining ivy cleaves, And climbs the mast and hides the cords in leaves: The sails are covered with a cheerful green, And berries in the fruitful canvas seen. Amidst the waves a sudden forest rears Its verdant head, and a new spring appears. 'The god we now behold with open eyes; _110 A herd of spotted panthers round him lies In glaring forms; the grapy clusters spread On his fair brows, and dangle on his head. And whilst he frowns, and brandishes his spear, My mates, surprised with madness or with fear, Leaped overboard; first perjured Madon found Rough scales and fins his stiffening sides surround; "Ah! what," cries one, "has thus transformed thy look?" Straight his own mouth grew wider as he spoke; And now himself he views with like surprise. _120 Still at his oar the industrious Libys plies; But, as he plies, each busy arm shrinks in, And by degrees is fashioned to a fin. Another, as he catches at a cord, Misses his arms, and, tumbling overboard, With his broad fins and forky tail he laves The rising surge, and flounces in the waves. Thus all my crew transformed around the ship, Or dive below, or on the surface leap, And spout the waves, and wanton in the deep. _130 Full nineteen sailors did the ship convey, A shoal of nineteen dolphins round her play. I only in my proper shape appear, Speechless with wonder, and half dead with fear, Till Bacchus kindly bid me fear no more. With him I landed on the Chian shore, And him shall ever gratefully adore.' 'This forging slave,' says Pentheus, 'would prevail O'er our just fury by a far-fetched tale: Go, let him feel the whips, the swords, the fire, _140 And in the tortures of the rack expire.' The officious servants hurry him away, And the poor captive in a dungeon lay. But, whilst the whips and tortures are prepared. The gates fly open, of themselves unbarred; At liberty the unfettered captive stands, And flings the loosened shackles from his hands.

THE DEATH OF PENTHEUS.

But Penthcus, grown more furious than before, Resolved to send his messengers no more, But went himself to the distracted throng, Where high Cithæron echoed with their song. And as the fiery war-horse paws the ground, And snorts and trembles at the trumpet's sound; Transported thus he heard the frantic rout, And raved and maddened at the distant shout. A spacious circuit on the hill there stood, Level and wide, and skirted round with wood; _10 Here the rash Pentheus, with unhallowed eyes, The howling dames and mystic orgies spies. His mother sternly viewed him where he stood, And kindled into madness as she viewed: Her leafy javelin at her son she cast, And cries, 'The boar that lays our country waste! The boar, my sisters! aim the fatal dart, And strike the brindled monster to the heart.' Pentheus astonished heard the dismal sound, And sees the yelling matrons gathering round: _20 He sees, and weeps at his approaching fate, And begs for mercy, and repents too late. 'Help, help! my aunt Autonöe,' he cried; 'Remember how your own Actæon died.' Deaf to his cries, the frantic matron crops One stretched-out arm, the other Ino lops. In vain does Pentheus to his mother sue, And the raw bleeding stumps presents to view: His mother howled; and heedless of his prayer, Her trembling hand she twisted in his hair, _30 'And this,' she cried, 'shall be Agave's share,' When from the neck his struggling head she tore, And in her hands the ghastly visage bore, With pleasure all the hideous trunk survey; Then pulled and tore the mangled limbs away, As starting in the pangs of death it lay. Soon as the wood its leafy honours casts, Blown off and scattered by autumnal blasts, With such a sudden death lay Pentheus slain, And in a thousand pieces strowed the plain. _40 By so distinguishing a judgment awed, The Thebans tremble, and confess the god.