The largest crowd, who gloated o'er their wealth,
Nor gave to friends a part. Adulterers
And wagers of unholy war are there,
Waiting their doom, imprison'd: ask me not
What doom, what lot they find, or how condemn'd.
Some roll a ponderous stone, or on the spokes
Of wheels distended hang. There sits for ever
Unhappy Theseus; Phlegyas in despair
Bears witness to the truth, and cries aloud,
Take warning, all; be just and fear the Gods.
341. A. How sad and dismal sound the farewells which Poor lovers take, whom Destiny disjoins,
Although they know their absence will be short!
And when they meet again, how musical
And sweet are all the mutual joys they breathe!
D. Like birds who, when they see the weary sun
Forsake the world, they lay their little heads
Beneath their wings, to ease that weight which his
Departure adds unto their grief.
A. 'Tis true, my love: but when they see that bright
Perpetual traveller return, they warm
And air their feathers at his beams, and sing
Until their gratitude hath made them hoarse.
342. O mother, hear me yet before I die.
Hear me, O earth. I will not die alone,
Lest their shrill happy laughter come to me,
Walking the cold and starless road of Death
Uncomforted, leaving my ancient love
With the Greek woman. I will rise and go
Down into Troy, and, ere the stars come forth,
Talk with the wild Cassandra; for she says
A fire dances before her, and a sound
Rings ever in her ears of armed men.
What this may be, I know not; but I know
That, wheresoe'er I am, by night and day,
All earth and air seem only burning fire.
343. Like a Numidian lion, by the cunning
Of the desperate huntsman taken in a toil,
And forc'd into a spacious cage, he walks
About his chamber. We might hear him gnash
His teeth in rage, which open'd, hollow groans
And murmurs issu'd from his lips, like winds
Imprison'd in the caverns of the earth
Striving for liberty; and sometimes throwing
His body on the bed, then on the ground,
And with such violence, that we more than fear,
And still do, if the tempest of his passions
By your wisdom be not laid, he will commit
Some outrage on himself.
Thither with Phrygian troop
Comes joy'd Iulus. His associate train
Eneas leads himself, in beauty far
Surpassing all; as when Apollo quits
His Lycian winter-seat, or Xanthus' bank,
Delos revisiting, his native isle.
While there, with dance renew'd, the Dryopes,
Cretans, and painted Agathyrsi join
In acclamations loud around his shrines,
He on the top of Cynthus walks, his brow
Bound with a vernal wreath, his flowing hair
With art adjusted and entwin'd with gold:
The pendent darts upon his shoulder sound.
345. If I had never liv'd, that which I love
Had still been living; had I never lov❜d,
That which I love would still be beautiful,
Happy and giving happiness. What is she?
What is she now? a sufferer for my sins,
A thing I dare not think upon or nothing.
Within few hours I shall not call in vain :
Yet in this hour I dread the thing I dare:
Until this hour I never shrunk to gaze
On spirit, good or evil: now I tremble,
And feel a strange cold thaw upon my
But I can act even what I most abhor,
And champion human fears.-The night approaches. 346. When I behold the heavens, the work of Thy hands, The moon and stars, which Thou hast established, What is mortal man that Thou bearest him in mind? And what the son of man that Thou regardest him? Yet Thou hast made him little lower than a god,
And hast crowned him with majesty and honour!
Thou hast given him dominion over the works of
Thy hands,
Thou hast put all creatures under his feet:
All sheep and oxen,
Yea, and the beasts of the field,
The birds of the air, and the fishes of the sea,
Whatsoever passes through the paths of ocean!
O Lord our God,
How glorious is Thy name in all the earth! 347. When Jesus, uttering his last mortal sigh, Opened the graves, while shook the earth's wide bound,
Adam his head, in terror at the cry,
Uprais'd, and started from the rending ground
Erect. He casts his troubled eyes around,
Fill'd with deep fear and dim perplexity,
And asks, while doubt and dread his heart astound,
Whose is the bloody form and pallid eye?
But when he knew Him, on his furrowed brow,
And on his withered cheek and hoary head,
In deep remorse he dealt the furious blow;
And turning, tearful, to his consort said,
While all the mountain echoed with his woe,
"Through thee I sold our Saviour to the dead."
348. On this lone isle, whose rugged rocks affright
The cautious pilot, ten revolving years
Great Poean's son, unwonted erst to tears,
Wept o'er his wound. Alike each rolling light
Of heaven he watch'd, and blam'd its lingering
flight.
By day the sea-mew, screaming round his cave,
Drove slumber from his eyes; the chiding wave,
And savage howling, chas'd his dreams by night.
Hope still was his. In each low breeze that sigh'd
Through his rude grot he heard a coming oar,
In each white cloud a coming sail he spied;
Nor seldom listen'd to the fancied roar
Of Eta's torrents, or the hoarser tide
That parts fam'd Trachis from the Euboic shore.
R. Health and strength be thine
In thy long travel! May no sunbeam strike,
No vapour cling and wither! May'st thou be,
Sleeping or waking, sacred and secure!
And when again thou com'st, thy labour done,
Joy be among ye! In that happy hour
All will pour forth to bid thee welcome, Carlo.
And there is one, or I am much deceiv'd,
One thou hast nam'd, who will not be the last.
C. Oh, she is true as truth itself can be!
But ah, thou know'st her not.
My steps I quicken when I think of her;
For, though they take me further from her door,
I shall return the sooner.
Could I so fondly cherish mortal life,
That I would let my child in my defence
The foeman's arm encounter? By thy wounds
Am I preserv'd, and live I by thy death?
Now, now I feel the pains of banishment;
Now the wound pierces deep. My crimes, my son,
Have tarnish'd thy good name: my subjects drove
Me, their oppressor, from my native throne,
The just requital of my tyranny.
I should myself have given to thousand deaths
My guilty soul. I live, I still abide
Among mankind, and see the light of day,
But will not long.
351. Who looks upon this world and not beyond
On the abodes it leads to, must believe it
The bloody slaughter-house of some ill power,
Rather than the contrivance of a good one.
Everything here breeds misery to man:
The sea breeds storms to sink him; if he flees
To shore for aid, the shore breeds rocks to tear him :
The earth breeds briars to rend him, trees to hang
him.
Those things that seem his friends are false to him :
The air that gives him breath gives him infection;
Meat takes his health away, and drink his reason.
His reason is so great a plague to him,
He never is so pleas'd as when he 's robb'd on't
By drink or madness.
352. O. Perhaps thou'rt hungry: here is food for thee. R. I thank you truly; but I am not hungry.
O. What is there in my face that thou would'st
scan?
R. I crave your pardon, and repress inquiry.
O. The night wears on: let us both go to rest.
R. I thank you, for, in sooth, I'm very tired.
O. There is thy couch: go, sleep, and rest be with
ye.
R. Nay; I am young: the ground shall be my couch.
O. Be not afraid, I will not cut thy throat.
R. Nay, heaven such deed forfend! I fear thee
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