Soon as above the waves she lifts her eyes, Her son she calls with unavailing cries: One token of his death is seen alone, The shield, too well by his sad parent known. Far off he lies, where, bellowing down the steep, Ismenos disembogues into the deep
His streams. Thus the deserted halcyon groans, And her wet dome, and floating nest bemoans, When the relentless south, and envious flood 511 Have borne away to sea her feather'd brood. Again the childless matron dives, and hides Her well-turn'd limbs beneath the circling tides; Thro' many a liquid path she takes her way, Which far bencath the glassy surface lay.
In vain the wretched warrior's corse she seeks, And in loud plaints her agony bespeaks :
The dreadful river oft obstructs her view,
Its colour darken'd to a sanguine hue.
Headlong on missive weapons now she lights,
And falchions, blunted in repeated fights,
Then handles helms, disguis'd with clefts and gore, And turns the mangled bodies o'er and o'er. Nor from the briny deeps did she retire To bitter Doris, till the pitying choir Of Nereids saw him floating on the main, And shov'd him to her longing arias again. She clasps as still alive, and with her hand Extends his body on the grassy strand; With her soft hair his humid visage dries, And adds these words, a sequel to her cries. 'Say, did Isınenos of immortal line, And thy great parents this sad lot assign? Thus dost thou exercise supreme command, And rule our river?-In a foreign land [shores, More safe thou'dst been, more safe on hostile And the salt wave of Neptune; that restores Thy body, all deform'd in cruel fight,
And with thy presence glads and shocks my sight. Are these thy father's eyes, is this my face, And did such locks thy grandsire's shoulders grace?
Art thou that youth, who late conspicuous stood, Pride of the stream, and glory of the wood? No more attended by my nymphs I move Queen of the flood, and goddess of the grove.
509. Thus the deserted halcyon groans] Statius with a propriety rarely to be found (as I have already remarked in the simile of the dolphin) frequently shifts the subject of his comparisons with the element, and descends to the very minutiæ of similitude. A poet of less taste and fancy would have been content to have illustrated the sorrow of Ismenis by that of a swallow, a nightingale, or any other bird for the loss of her young; but our author very judiciously takes in the circuinstance of her being a water-nymph, and compares her to the halcyon, which always builds her nest on the banks of the sea, or large rivers.
544. Pride of the stream] Crenæus was prince of the stream by right of his grandfather Ismenos, and of the grove by virtue of being the sou of the faun or satyr.
545. No more attended] There is a wide difference between the lamentations of Ismenis and other mothers for the loss of their children. She chiefly laments, that all her honours must cease with his death. The prospect of this supersedes all other considerations, and seems to af
Where are those frequent suitors, that of late Were seen to press around thy mother's gate; And nymphs contending who should serve thee most? 550
Why should I now inter thee on the coast, And not in my embrace?-O had I dy'd O'erwhelm'd amidst the roarings of the tide ! Does not such slaughter, O thrice rigid sire! With pity and with shame thy breast inspire? What lake, in this thy daughter's dire distress, Conceals thee thus, whose deep and dark recess Nor thy now breathless grandson's early fate, Nor our complaints and groans can penetrate? See still Hippomedon thy godhead braves, And rages, uncontrol'd, amidst thy waves! Unwonted tremours seize the banks and flood, And the ting'd billows drink Aonian blood. Tho' slow in our defence, thy ready aid Attends the Greeks. Yet see due honours paid To my son's last remains; and be it known, That soon another's death thou shalt bemoan." These words, accompanied with tears, she spoke, And stains her gen'rous breast with many a stroke. The sea-green sisters make her loss their own, Sigh back her sighs, and echo groan with groan. Ismenos then lay buried in a cave, 571 Whence thirsty clonds and gales imbibe the wave, Whence with fresh juice the show'ry bow is fed, And golden crops the Tyrian fields o'erspread: But when be heard from far the doleful sound, In which the murmurs of the surge were drown'd, He lifts his neck with shaggy moss o'ergrown, And temples circled with an icy crown;
fect her in a more particular manner. she mourns in as womanish a manner as Eve, when Michael denounces her departure from Eden.
Must Ithus leave thee, Paradise? thus leave Thee, native soil, those happy walks and shades, Fit haunt of Gods? where I had hope to spend, Quiet, though sad, &c. Par. Lost, b. 11. v. 269.
566. Soon another's death thou shalt bemoan] Barthius treats our author's want of thought in this place with great humour. Ismenis (says he) reproaches her father as quite ignorant of the death of his son and others. But when his grandson's fate approached, he opposes his waves to Hippomedon.
-In his offspring's aid the river rose, And check'd his hand.-
Did Ismenis do this in a dream, or did our truly good author nod over this passage?-The latter I
take to have been the case.
570. Sizh back her sighs] After this verse follows a simile which is so very obscure, and consists of such filthy images, that I have ventured to omit it by my friends' advice.
571. Ismenos then] From this line to the speech of Ismenos to Jupiter there runs one continued chain of sublimity and imagery scarce inferior to any thing I have ever read.-The picture of the abode and habit of this water-god is superior to Virgil's description of the Tiber; and that of the river's resistance to Hippomedon is equal at least in point of circumstances and variety to that of Xanthus, in the 21st book of Homer's Iliad, against Achilles.
And rushing on, a full-grown pine o'erturns, As down the stream he rolls his copious urns, 580 The woods and lesser brooks his progress eye With wonder, as he leaves his channel dry, His stony channel, and with dashing waves From either bank the slime invet'rate laves. Sonorous in his course, the river roars, And foaming, far o'ertops the subject shores; While from his sea-green beard in many a rill The lucid drops upon his breast distil. [known One nymph alone he meets, who soon makes His grandson's fate, and evils soon his own, 590 Presses his hand, and the fell Grecian shows, Hippomedon, sole author of his woes. Suspended in mid-air the wrathful flood Awhile, with all his waves encircled, stood,
Then shook his horns, with verdant sedge entwin'd;
And thus he vents his turbulence of mind.. "Is this, O ruler of the gods above, The best reward my services must prove? Wink'd I for this (thyself our honour'd guest, At deeds, which friendship, and not fear suppress'd)
As when a borrow'd pair of horns adorn'd Thy guilty brows, or Phoebe was suborn'd To lengthen out the night, and (oh! disgrace To the whole sex, and all the Theban race) Proud Semele to Juno's rank aspir'd, And for a dow'r etherial flames requir'd? Was it so slight a favour to defend Thy foster'd offspring, and their youth befriend? For refuge to this stream Tyrintheus came, And here, O Bacchus, temper'd we thy flame. 610 Behold! what heaps of carnage choke my stream, What shiver'd weapons on my surface gleam! War rages thro' our ford, the billows breathe Confusion, rout, and death; above, beneath, Souls wander, recent from their bloody doom, And hov'ring, spread o'er either bank a gloom. All votaries invoke my chrystal wave With holy yellings: 'tis my praise to lave In the clear stream great Bacchus' sacred horns, And the soft thyrsus that his head adorns. In vain I seek the straits.-Not Strymon's flood, Dire as it seems, is thus deform'd with blood; Nor foaming Hebrus bears the stain of gore So deep, when warring Mars invades the shore. Remember, that the stream which now demands Jove's timely aid, deserves it at his hands. Does Bacchus blot his parents from his mind, Or is Hydaspes more to peace inclin'd? Nor thou, whom the gay spoils and trophies, torn From brave Crenæus, hapless boy, adorn, Shalt pay to Inachus the votive crown,
Or hail with conqu'ring shouts thy native town, Unless the mortal progeny of earth
I prove, and more than human is thy birth." Raging he spake, and to the ready wave
A token of his vengeful purpose gave.
First bleak Citharon from his hoary brows Pours many a rill of long collected snows; Asopus then by stealth his wants supplies With streams, that from his op'ning springs arise.
621. Not Strymon's flood] Strymon and Hebrus are two rivers of Thrace: the one famous for the battles between the pygmies and cranes, and the
The scrutinizing god himself explores Earth's hollow entrails, and recruits his stores From marshes, pools, and lakes with filth o'er- spread;
And lifting to the skies his dropping head, Exhausts the clouds of moisture, and inhales The humid vapours lodg'd in show'ry gales. And now o'er both his banks Ismenos ruse, And all around a foamy deluge throws. Hippomedon, who fording half the tide, Its greatest depth and utmost rage had try'd, 650 Unbath'd his shoulders, wonders as he sees The flood invading them by quick degrees. Swelling on either side, the billows form A watry bulwark: as when some huge storm Drains the Pleiades, in winter's reign, And dashes black Orion on the main. Thus the Theumesian stream the warrior toss'd On its salt surface: on his shield iniboss'd He breaks his fury: o'er its orb he boils With black'ning foam, and all resistance foils. 660 Though oft repuls'd, in greater troops again The surges mount. The hero toils in vain; For not content with his own liquid force, The rapid current gathers in its course Beams, stones torn from the bottom, shrubs that On the green verge, and whirls them at the for Unequal hangs the fight: more fierce he raves, As undismay'd the chief his anger braves: For neither does he turn his back, or yield To any threats; but bending to the field His steps, still boldly meets the rushing tides, And, with his shield oppos'd, the flood divides, His feet upheld, still with the moving ground He moves, the slipp'ry pebbles floating round, And struggles, while, his knees relax'd with toil, Far from beneath him slides the slimy soil. "Ismenos, say," th' upbraiding warrior cries, "From whence these sudden gusts of passion rise? Whence hast thou drawn this strength? Some
Than Bacchus must thy desp'rate cause defend: For, till the present war, thy peaceful flood Was never crimson'd but with female blood, When pipes unequal at your orgies roar, [gore." And madd'ning matrons stain your rites with He said and now the pow'r himself appears, And o'er the waves his head spontaneous rears. A load of filth to his marr'd visage clung, Mute was his rage, and silent was his tongue. Now face to face the god and hero stood, When, rising to the stroke, the furious flood 690 Impell'd a leafless oak: four times unmov'd The dire assault and thund'ring shock he prov'd: At length, his shield struck down, the chief with By tardy steps, the billows thick pursue, [drew Back'd by their leader: while with hissing sound, A show'r of darts and stones is rain'd around, And, rang'd along the beach, his Theban foes His landing with protended arms oppose. What can he do, besieg'd with waves and spears? Nor hope of flight, nor glorious death appears. 700 Just on the brink ('twas doubtful if it stood Fix'd on the land, or rooted in the flood)
701. Just on the brink] This beautiful incident is borrowed from the 21st book of the Iliad, but diversified and enlarged with many additional circumstances.
An ash with far-projecting branches grew, And o'er the stre am a shade wide-spreading threw. Hither he sped his course in quest of aid, (For how could he the guarded beach invade?) And snatch'd a branch, his slidd'ring steps to stay, But, faithless to his grasp, the tree gives way, Beneath his dragging weight uprooted falls, An earthy fragment in the water hales, Torn from the border, and from side to side
In length extended, bridges the rough tide. Here meet the rushing waves; the settling mud Sinks to the bottom.-Now the circling flood Invades the neck and shoulders of the chief:
At length, oppress'd with more than vulgar grief, He cries:-O Mars, shall I resign my breath In this vile river? Such inglorious death Attends the swain, whom to the neighb'ring deeps, Increas'd by sudden show'rs a torrent sweeps 720 Why fell I not beneath the hostile sword? Argos had then wept o'er my corse restor❜d." Mov'd by these pray'rs at length Saturnia seeks The courts of Jove, and thus her spouse bespeaks. "How long, illustrious sire of gods above, Shall wretched Grecce thy studied vengeance prove?
By Pallas hated, Tydeus press'd the plain, And silent Delphos wails her augur slain. Say, shall Hippomedon, whose native place Is Argos, sprung of fam'd Mycense's race,
-Ο δὲ πτελέην ἵλε χερσίν Εὐφυέα, μεγάλην, ἡ δ ̓ ἐκ ῥίζων ἐριπᾶσα Κρημνὸν ἅπαντα διώσεν, ἐπίσχε δὲ καλα ρέεθρα Οζοισιν πυκινοῖσι, γεφύρωσεν δέ μιν αὐτὸν, Είσω πάσ' ἐριπες.
Some of the verses (as Mr. Pope has observed of Homer's) run hoarse, full and sonorous, like the torrent they describe; others, by their broken cadences and sudden stops, image the difficulty, labour and interruption of the hero's march against it. The fall of the tree, the tearing up of the bank, the rushing of the branches in the water, are all put into such words, that almost every letter corresponds in its sound, and echoes to the sense in this particular.
Deserted by the pow'r, whose grace he woo'd, Glut the fell monsters of the sea with food? The vanquish'd sure have shar'd the fun'ral rite. Where are the flames that must succeed the fight By Theseus kindled?"-He receives her pray'r, And makes the object of her suit his care, [again His eyes turn'd back on Thebes.-The stream Sinks at his nod, and spreads a level plain. Above the surface now his shoulders rise, And hope returning sparkles in his eyes. So, when a tempest rais'd by winds, subsides, And Neptune's trident calms the ruffled tides, The rocks lift up their heads to sight long-lost, And the glad seamen eye the wish'd-for coast. Ah! what avails it to have gain'd the beach, Since still he stands within the javelin's reaeh? The Tyrian cohorts press on ev'ry side, No more the mail and shield his body hide; But the whole man's expos'd to death.-The blood That long had lain congeal'd beneath the flood, 751 Now issues copious, thaw'd in open air, And all his honest wounds again lie bare. Drain'd of life's juice, relax'd appears each vein, Nor his chill'd feet his trembling frame sustain. He drops; as from some mountain's airy crown, Torn by the winds, a tall oak tumbles down, Which late was seen with shading boughs to rise, Its root in earth, its summit in the skies. Whilst, as a prelude to its fate, its head Threat'ning it nods, the grove and mountain dread, Lest failing, it deform the sylvan reign, And spread a length of ruin on the plain.
741. So, when a tempest] This is a very ele gant similitude, and well adapted to the circumstances of the person. Our poet would not, as he' had before compared him to a rock for his fortitude, degrade him in his distress by illustrating his situation in a meaner comparison, and there. fore compares him to a rock again.
Qualis ab incepto processerit, & sibi constet. 55. As from some mountain's airy crown] Homer, Virgil, and Silius Italicus have all com717. O Mars, shall I resign my breath] The be-parisons derived from this subject, which I shall haviour and speech of Hippomedon have so many precedents, that I should not know from what original it is copied, had not the poet himself left a mark of distinction, which is the allusion to the shepherd.
Ως μ ̓ ἔφελ' Εκτωρ κτεῖναι, ὃς ἐνθάδε τέτρα' τρις, · ἐξενεμίζει Των ̓ ἀγαθὸν μὲν ἔπεφν', ἀγαθὸς δέ κεν Νῦν δε με λευγαλέω θανάτω έιμαριο αλωναι Ειχθέντ' ἐν μεγαλω ποταμω, ὡς παΐδα συφορβὸν, Ὃν τά τ' ἔναυλ ̓ ἀποέρσει χειμώνι περώντα. Homer again in his Odyssey, Virgil, and Lucan have all similar passages in their respective works; which circumstance, I think, sufficiently clears up the two former from the imputation of having re- presented their heroes as cowards. They do not lament, that they must die, but only dislike the mode of death. Drowning, it was thought by the ancients, hindered their bodies from being buried: we must not wonder, therefore, that they abomi- nated it, as they could not be admitted into the number of the blessed, until they had received the funeral rites. See Palinurus's speech to Æneas in the sixth book of Virgil's Æneid.
lay before the reader, without anticipating his judgment by any remarks of my own.
- Ὁ δ ̓ ἐν κονίησι χαμαὶ πέσεν αἴγειρον ὡς Η ρά τ ̓ ἐν διαμενῆ ἔλεον μεγάλοιο πεφύκει Λείη, ἀπὰρ τέ οἱ ὅζοι ἐπ' ἀκροτάτη πεφύασι Τὴν μέν θ ̓ ἁρματοπηγὸς ἀνὴρ αἴθωνι σιδήρω, Ἐξέταμ ̓ ὄφρα ἴτον κάμψη περικαλλεί δίφρω, Ἡ μέν' ἀζομένη κεῖται ποταμοίο παρ' όχθας. Iliad. lib. 4. v. 482.
Ac veluti in summis antiquam montibus ornum, Cum ferro accisam crebrisque bipennibus instant Eruere agricolæ certatim; illa usque minatur, Et tremefacta comam concusso vertice nutat; Vulneribus donec paulatim evicta supremum Ingemuit, traxitque jugis avulsa ruinam.
Eneid, lib. 2. ver. 626. Ceu Zephyrus quatit antiquos ubi flamine lucos, Fronte super tremuli vix tota cacuminis hærens Jactatur, pariter nido luctante volucris. Procubuit tandem multa devicta securi Suffugium infelix miseris, & inhospita quercus, Elisitque virum spatiosa membra ruina.
Yet no one durst despoil the chief bereft Of life: untouch'd his sword and helm were left. Scarce trusting to their eyes, aloof they stand, And fear the blade he clenches in his hand. Hypseus at length their doubts remov'd, withdrew The casque and his stern face disclos'd to view: Then boastful thro' the Theban ranks he goes, And on his sabre's point high-glitt'ring shows 770 The spoil suspended, and exulting cry'd: "Behold the conqu'ror of the bloody tide, And vow'd avenger of great Tydeus dead, Hippomedon!-how well his schemes have sped!" Brave Capaneus beheld the glorying chief From far, but from the foe conceal'd his grief, And as the brandish'd weapon he survey'd, Accosts it thus :-"Be present with your aid, My arm and sword; so ye assist my stroke, No other deities I will invoke." This said, elate in thought the warrior glows, And rushes, self-secure of all his vows. [fold, Now thro' the shield, which strong bull-hides in- And brazen mail, all rough with scales of gold, The trembling javelin passes, and arrests The prince, deep-buried in his gen'rous breasts. He sinks, as some high tow'r that long hath stood Bellona's fiercest shocks, at length subdu'd With oft repeated strokes it thunders down, And opens to the foe the fenceless town. Then striding o'er th' expiring chief, he cries: "The fame of death we grant thee: lift thine
And mark th' illustrious author of the wound: Go-vaunt of this in the drear Stygian sound." The sword and head-piece seiz'd, he takes again The target, wrested from the Grecian slain, And placing o'er the corse, says with a groan: "Receive these hostile trophies with thy own,' And sleep secure, that rescu'd from the foe, Thy manes shall the rites of burial know. But while thy solemn fun'rals we prepare, Accept this earnest of my future care." Thus long the combat hung in even scales, And either host alternately prevails : Mars aids them both, like an impartial lord, And with commutual wounds the battle gor'd. In turn they mourn the Greek and Theban chief, And from each other's sorrows find relief. Meanwhile, disturbed by visions of the night, 809 And dreams, th' Arcadian princess bends her To Ladon's gelid spring, to wash away [aight Her noxious sleep, before the destin'd day.
Atalanta, mother of Parthenopus. 787. As some high tow'r] Our author in this comparison has set the Theban hero in a stronger light than the Grecian.-He illustrates the falling of Hippomedon by that of an oak, but compares Hypseus to a tower, which is more expressive of the character of a valiant leader: a tower being the defence of a city, as a valiant commander is of his army. This simile though not very long, is paraphrased from the verse of Homer sub- joined.
Ηριπε δ' ὡς ὅτε πύργον ἐνὶ κρατερῆ υσμίνη.
793. And mark th' illustrious] Eneas closes his address of commiseration to Lausus in much the same boastful manner.
Hoc tamen infelix miseram solabere mortem : Æneæ magni dextrâ cadis. En. 10. line 829.
Loose was her dress, dishevelled was her hair, And, as the rites required, her feet were bare. For anxious thoughts and weighty cares opprest Her mind in sleep, and broke her nightly rest. Ofttimes the spoils, which, she had sacred made, Torn from the shrine, or fallen she survey'd: Ofttimes she fancied, that, expelled the groves, In tombs and sepulchres unknown she roves, 820 And that her victor son's return'd again, Yet only sees his courser, arms and train. Untouch'd the quivers from her shoulders fall, And her own effigies, that grac'd the hall, Was heard to hiss and crackle in the flames: But the past night the greatest woes proclaims. 'Twas this that fill'd her soul with anxious fears, And call'd forth all a mother's tender cares. In fair Arcadia's blissful bow'rs there stood A noted oak: the nymphs that haunt the wood, Had vow'd it sacred to their guardian-maid, 831 And at the rites divine due off'rings paid. Here she was wont her bow and shafts to place, And high display the trophies of the chase, The lion's brindled hide its boughs adorns, The boar's sharp tusks, and stag's wide-branch. ing horns.
Such honours heap this monarch of the grove, That scarce the crowded limbs have room to more; While the refulgent steel destroys the shade, Dispels the gloom, and lightens all the glade. 840 As haply from the hills she took her way, Tir'd with the longsome labours of the day, And in her hand a bear's grim visage bore, Yet warm with life, and reeking still with gore, She spies the foliage strew'd upon the ground, And the hack'd branches, red with many a wound. At length a nymph informs her, Bacchus rag'd, Against the Greeks with all his priests engag'd. While, dreaming, thus she groans, and beats her breast,
Sleep quits her eyes, and from the couch of rest, Starting as from a trance, in vain she seeks 85! The pearly current that bedew'd her cheeks. Thrice then she bathes her tresses in the stream, Tavert the mischiefs imag'd in the dream, Adds magic sounds, impower'd to control The mother's grief, and cheer her anxious soul, And hast'ning to the weapon'd virgin's fane, What time the dew-drops glitter on the plain, Beholds again with joy the verdant wood, [blood. And the known oak unchang'd, and free from Now in the hallow'd vestible she stands, And thus invokes the Pow'r with lifted bands; "O sylvan queen, whose more than female arms I bear, nor mindful to improve my charms Like others of my sex, pursue afar Thy hardy steps, and dare the savage war. With Amazons I boast an equal name, Nor do the Colchian dames outshine my fame. If to no rites of Bacchus I resort, Nor mix in nightly choirs and wanton sport; 870 If true to thee, I wield no wreathed dart, Nor in unseemly actions bear a part, But though defil'd in Hymen's hateful bed, Pursue the toils, to which I first was bred, And to the chase and rural shades inclin'd, For thee reserve a pure, unwedded mind. Nor in the dark recesses of the grove Hid I the token of my vicious love,
878. Hid I the token of my vicious love] The
But op'ning all my guilt, without deceit Produc'd the boy, and plac'd him at thy feet. 880) Nor blood degen'rate sallies in his veins; His early virtue justified my pains: For, when an infant, he could scarcely go, He stretch'd his little hands, and lisp'd, A bow:' Him (ah! what om'nous dreams my soul dismay, And damp my ruffled spirits?) him, I pray, Who trusting to thy aid (his mother's right) In youthful folly rushes to the fight, Restore victorious, or (if I demand Too much) uninjur'd to his native land. Here may he toil, and bear thy arms alone: But O! remove these signs of ills unknown. In bow'rs Arcadian, why should Bacchus reign, And Theban gods encroach on thy domain? Why to myself (but may the watchful throng Of demons render this construction wrong) Take I the mischiefs, shadow'd in the oak? But, if the gods intend this dreaded stroke, O mild Dictynna, by the mother's throes, And yon fraternal orb that recent glows, Transfix me with thy darts, and set me free; Tis ease, 'tis mercy to a wretch like me: And, if a martial death must end his date, Let him, O let him first bemoan my fate." Here paus'd the queen, and wept ; nor wept alone: For tears descended from the sculptur'd stone. While thus she press'd the sacred threshold, bare, And brush'd the clay-cold altars with her hair;
reader must take notice, that the poet only calls this love vicious, inasmuch as it was a breach of yow; all virgins, who entered into Diana's service, being obliged at their initiation, to make a vow of perpetual virginity.
S96. Of demons] I think the word demons in this place a more proper term than gods, as the former, being a subordinate class of deities, were supposed by the ancients to superintend the affairs of mankind in a more particular manner.In the least deviation from the original I shall always hold it incumbent on me to give my reasons for it,
899. O mild Dictynna] If the reader has any curiosity to know the origin of this name, let him attend to what Lactantius says on this subject.Briton, a Cretan virgin and daughter of Mars, was consecrated to Diana; and to avoid an attempt made by Minos on her chastity, threw herself into the sea, and was taken up in fishing-nets, which in Greek are called dictua. Soon after this the Cretans were punished by a heavy pestilence, that raged amongst them, and were informed, that they could not remove it but by building a temple to the offended goddess, which they did, and called it Dictynnæ from the fishing-nets.
906. For tears descended from the sculptur'd stone] The poet means the marble statue of Diana: Lucan, speaking of the prognostics, which preceded the civil wars, says:
The face of grief each marble statue wears, And Parian gods and heroes stand in tears. 908. And brush'd] The words in the original
-Gelidas verrentem crinibus aras.
In the former editions it was verentem, which Bernartius has judiciously altered to verreutem,
Abruptly the rough goddess leaves her, flies O'er Mænalos, high-branching in the skies, 910 Directs her progress to the Theban town By a bright, inner path, to all unknown But deities, and from a point on high O'er Earth's vast globe extends her boundless eye. And now near Helicon's inspiring source She halts awhile (completed half her course) When through a cloud far-beaming she discern'd Her brother from th' Aonian war return'd. Uncouth his visage show'd, disguis'd with grief, For much he mourn'd the prophet, luckless chief. More fiercely glow the planets in embrace, 921 And paint with crimson streaks th' aerial space; Loud clash the bows, and through the skies around The quivers echo back the solemn sound. Apollo took the word, and thus bespeaks: "Full well I know, my dearest sister seeks Th' Arcadian youth, who dares beyond his might, And mixes, fearless, in th' unequal fight. His mother sues, and would th' immortals give Assent to save, the warrior long should live, 930 Myself (it shames me, that I could not aid) The prophet with his arms and wreaths survey'd, When, urged by fate, he sunk to deepest Hell, And look'd at me for succour, as he fell. Nor could I keep my car, and earth re-join, Tho' stern, nor worthy more of rites divine. Thou seest my silent dome, and wailing cave: This sole reward my pious comrades have. No more my unavailing help implore; Heav'n wills, we give the fruitless labour o’er: His hour draws on, the destinies ordain, Nor are our oracles believ'd in vain." Thus, all confus'd, the heav'nly maid reply'd, In turn: "His want of days then be supply'd With lasting fame, some recompense bestow, And add in glory what in life you owe. Nor shall he 'scape unpunish'd for the deed, By whom fate dooms the guiltless chief to bleed: Our raging arrows shall avenge the slain, And fix the quiv'ring dastard to the plain." 950 She ceas'd; nor willing to his lips applies Her vermil cheeks, but to the conflict flies. · Now fiercer burns the fight on either side, And mutual vengeance swells the purple tide
Matres Itala pensa manibus abjecerunt, parvos liberos abreptos ad templa traxerunt, ibi ædes sacras pas so capillo suo quæque verrebat.— Mamertinus, Panegyrick on Maximian.
953. Now fiercer burns the fight] There is great strength of imagery and expression in these, and the following lines; but as I am conscious my translation will not make my assertion good, I shall transcribe the author's own words: and in this, as well as in all other places, where I pass encomiums, I hope the reader will always understand them as spoken of the original.
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