To gain her sight a thousand forms he wears; And first a reaper from the field appears: 30 Sweating he walks, while loads of golden grain O'ercharge the shoulders of the seeming swain: Oft o'er his back a crooked scythe is laid, And wreaths of hay his sunburnt temples shade: Oft in his harden'd hand a goad he bears, Like one who late unyoked the sweating steers: Sometimes his pruning-hook corrects the vines, And the loose stragglers to their ranks confines: Now gathering what the bounteous year allows, He pulls ripe apples from the bending boughs: 40 A soldier now, he with his sword appears; A fisher next, his trembling angle bears: Each shape he varies, and each art he tries, On her bright charms to feast his longing eyes.

A female form at last Vertumnus wears, With all the marks of reverend age appears, His temples thinly spread with silver hairs: Propp'd on his staff, and stooping as he goes, A painted mitre shades his furrow'd brows.

The god in this decrepid form array'd 50 The gardens enter'd, and the fruit survey'd; And, 'Happy you!' he thus address'd the maid, 'Whose charms as far all other nymphs outshine, As other gardens are excell'd by thine!'

Then kiss'd the fair; (his kisses warmer grow Than such as women on their sex bestow) Then, placed beside her on the flowery ground, Beheld the trees with autumn's bounty crown'd.

An elm was near, to whose embraces led, The curling vine her swelling clusters spread: 60 He view'd her twining branches with delight, And praised the beauty of the pleasing sight.

'Yet this tall elm, but for this vine,' he said, 'Had stood neglected, and a barren shade; And this fair vine, but that her arms surround Her married elm, had crept along the ground.

Ah, beauteous maid! let this example move Your mind, averse from all the joys of love.

Deign to be loved, and every heart subdue!

What nymph could e'er attract such crowds as you? 70 Not she whose beauty urged the Centaur's arms, Ulysses' queen, nor Helen's fatal charms.

Ev'n now, when silent scorn is all they gain, A thousand court you, though they court in vain-- A thousand sylvans, demigods, and gods, That haunt our mountains and our Alban woods.

But if you'll prosper, mark what I advise, Whom age and long experience render wise, And one whose tender care is far above All that these lovers ever felt of love, 80 (Far more than e'er can by yourself be guess'd) Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the rest: For his firm faith I dare engage my own: Scarce to himself, himself is better known.

To distant lands Vertumnus never roves; Like you, contented with his native groves; Nor at first sight, like most, admires the fair: For you he lives; and you alone shall share His last affection, as his early care.

Besides, he's lovely far above the rest, 90 With youth immortal, and with beauty bless'd.

Add, that he varies every shape with ease, And tries all forms that may Pomona please.

But what should most excite a mutual flame, Your rural cares and pleasures are the same.

To him your orchard's early fruits are due; (A pleasing offering when 'tis made by you) He values these; but yet, alas! complains That still the best and dearest gift remains.

Not the fair fruit that on yon branches glows 100 With that ripe red th' autumnal sun bestows; Nor tasteful herbs that in these gardens rise, Which the kind soil with milky sap supplies; You, only you, can move the god's desire: Oh crown so constant and so pure a fire!

Let soft compassion touch your gentle mind: Think, 'tis Vertumnus begs you to be kind: So may no frost, when early buds appear, Destroy the promise of the youthful year; Nor winds, when first your florid orchard blows, 110 Shake the light blossoms from their blasted boughs!'

This, when the various god had urged in vain, He straight assumed his native form again: Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears, As when through clouds th' emerging sun appears, And thence exerting his refulgent ray, Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day.

Force he prepared, but check'd the rash design; For when, appearing in a form divine, The nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace 120 Of charming features and a youthful face, In her soft breast consenting passions move, And the warm maid confess'd a mutual love.

THE FIRST BOOK OF STATIUS'S THEBAIS.

TRANSLATED IN THE YEAR 1703.

ARGUMENT.

Oedipus, King of Thebes, having, by mistake, slain his father Laius, and married his mother Jocasta, put out his own eyes, and resigned his realm to his sons Eteocles and Polynices. Being neglected by them, he makes his prayer to the fury Tisiphone, to sow debate betwixt the brothers.

They agree at last to reign singly, each a year by turns, and the first lot is obtained by Eteocles. Jupiter, in a council of the gods, declares his resolution of punishing the Thebans, and Argives also, by means of a marriage betwixt Polynices and one of the daughters of Adrastus, King of Argos. Juno opposes, but to no effect; and Mercury is sent on a message to the shades, to the ghost of Laius, who is to appear to Eteocles, and provoke him to break the agreement. Polynices, in the meantime, departs from Thebes by night, is overtaken by a storm, and arrives at Argos, where he meets with Tydeus, who had fled from Calydon, having killed his brother. Adrastus 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 by these strangers, by whom the hides of those beasts were worn, and who arrived at the time when he kept an annual feast in honour of that god. The rise of this solemnity, he relates to his guests; the loves of Phoebus and Psamathe, and the story of Choroebus. He inquires, and is made acquainted with their descent and quality. The sacrifice is renewed, and the book concludes with a hymn to Apollo.--_P_.

Fraternal rage, the guilty Thebes' alarms, Th' alternate reign destroy'd by impious arms, Demand our song; a sacred fury fires My ravish'd breast, and all the Muse inspires.

O goddess! say, shall I deduce my rhymes From the dire nation in its early times, Europa's rape, Agenor's stern decree, And Cadmus searching round the spacious sea?

How with the serpent's teeth he sow'd the soil, And reap'd an iron harvest of his toil? 10 Or how from joining stones the city sprung, While to his harp divine Amphion sung?

Or shall I Juno's hate to Thebes resound, Whose fatal rage th' unhappy monarch found?

The sire against the son his arrows drew, O'er the wide fields the furious mother flew, And while her arms a second hope contain, Sprung from the rocks, and plunged into the main.

But wave whate'er to Cadmus may belong, And fix, O Muse! the barrier of thy song 20 At Oedipus--from his disasters trace The long confusions of his guilty race: Nor yet attempt to stretch thy bolder wing, And mighty Caesar's conquering eagles sing; How twice he tamed proud Ister's rapid flood, While Dacian mountains stream'd with barbarous blood; Twice taught the Rhine beneath his laws to roll, And stretch'd his empire to the frozen pole; Or, long before, with early valour strove In youthful arms t' assert the cause of Jove. 30 And thou, great heir of all thy father's fame, Increase of glory to the Latian name!

Oh! bless thy Rome with an eternal reign, Nor let desiring worlds entreat in vain.

What though the stars contract their heavenly space, And crowd their shining ranks to yield thee place; Though all the skies, ambitious of thy sway, Conspire to court thee from our world away; Though Phoebus longs to mix his rays with thine, And in thy glories more serenely shine; 40 Though Jove himself no less content would be To part his throne, and share his heaven with thee: Yet stay, great Caesar! and vouchsafe to reign O'er the wide earth, and o'er the watery main; Resign to Jove his empire of the skies, And people heaven with Roman deities.

The time will come when a diviner flame Shall warm my breast to sing of Caesar's fame; Meanwhile, permit that my preluding Muse In Theban wars an humbler theme may choose: 50 Of furious hate surviving death she sings, A fatal throne to two contending kings, And funeral flames, that, parting wide in air, Express the discord of the souls they bear: Of towns dispeopled, and the wandering ghosts Of kings unburied in the wasted coasts; When Dirce's fountain blush'd with Grecian blood, And Thetis, near Ismenos' swelling flood, With dread beheld the rolling surges sweep In heaps his slaughter'd sons into the deep. 60

What hero, Clio! wilt thou first relate?

The rage of Tydeus, or the prophet's fate?

Or how, with hills of slain on every side, Hippomedon repell'd the hostile 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 sing with horror his prodigious end.

Now wretched Oedipus, deprived of sight, Led a long death in everlasting night; 70 But while he dwells where not a cheerful ray Can pierce the darkness, and abhors the day, The clear reflecting mind presents his sin In frightful views, and makes it day within; Returning thoughts in endless circles roll, And thousand Furies haunt his guilty soul: 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 strook, While from his breast these dreadful accents broke: 80

'Ye gods! that o'er the gloomy regions reign, Where guilty spirits feel eternal pain; Thou, sable Styx! whose livid streams are roll'd Through dreary coasts, which I though blind behold; Tisiphone! that oft hast heard my prayer, Assist, if Oedipus deserve thy care.

If you received me from Jocasta's womb, And nursed the hope of mischiefs yet to come; If, leaving Polybus, I took my way To Cyrrha's temple, on that fatal day 90 When by the son the trembling father died, Where the three roads the Phocian fields divide; If I the Sphynx's riddles durst explain, Taught by thyself to win the promised reign; If wretched I, by baleful Furies led, With monstrous mixture stain'd my mother's bed, For hell and thee begot an impious brood, And with full lust those horrid joys renew'd; Then, self-condemn'd to shades of endless night, Forced from these orbs the bleeding balls of sight; 100 Oh, hear! and aid the vengeance I require, If worthy thee, and what thou might'st inspire!

My sons their old, unhappy sire despise, Spoil'd of his kingdom, and deprived of eyes; Guideless I wander, unregarded mourn, Whilst these exalt their sceptres o'er my urn: These sons, ye gods! who with flagitious pride Insult my darkness and my groans deride.

Art thou a father, unregarding Jove!

And sleeps thy thunder in the realms above? 110 Thou Fury! then some lasting curse entail, Which o'er their children's children shall prevail; Place on their heads that crown, distain'd with gore, Which these dire hands from my slain father tore; Go! and a parent's heavy curses bear; Break all the bonds of nature, and prepare Their kindred souls to mutual hate and war.

Give them to dare, what I might wish to see, Blind as I am, some glorious villany!

Soon shalt thou find, if thou but arm their hands, 120 Their ready guilt preventing thy commands: Couldst thou some great proportion'd mischief frame, They'd prove the father from whose loins they came.'

The Fury heard, while on Cocytus' brink Her snakes, untied, sulphureous waters drink; But at the summons roll'd her eyes around, And snatch'd the starting serpents from the ground.

Not half so swiftly shoots along in air The gliding lightning or descending star; Through crowds of airy shades she wing'd her flight, 130 And dark dominions of the silent night; Swift as she pass'd the flitting ghosts withdrew, And the pale spectres trembled at her view: To th' iron gates of Tenarus she flies, There spreads her dusky pinions to the skies.

The day beheld, and, sickening at the sight, Veil'd her fair glories in the shades of night.

Affrighted Atlas on the distant shore Trembled, and shook the heavens and gods he bore.

Now from beneath Malea's airy height 140 Aloft she sprung, and steer'd to Thebes her flight; With eager speed the well-known journey took, Nor here regrets the hell she late forsook.

A hundred snakes her gloomy visage shade, A hundred serpents guard her horrid head; In her sunk eyeballs dreadful meteors glow: Such rays from Phoebe's bloody circle flow, When, labouring with strong charms, she shoots from high A fiery gleam, and reddens all the sky.

Blood stain'd her cheeks, and from her mouth there came 150 Blue steaming poisons, and a length of flame.

From every blast of her contagious breath Famine and drought proceed, and plagues and death.

A robe obscene was o'er her shoulders thrown, A dress by Fates and Furies worn alone.

She toss'd her meagre arms; her better hand In waving circles whirl'd a funeral brand: A serpent from her left was seen to rear His flaming crest, and lash the yielding air.

But when the Fury took her stand on high, 160 Where vast Cithaeron's top salutes the sky, A hiss from all the snaky tire went round: The dreadful signal all the rocks rebound, And through th' Achaian cities send the sound.

Oete, with high Parnassus, heard the voice; Eurotas' banks remurmur'd to the noise; Again Leucothoe shook at these alarms, And press'd Palaermon closer in her arms.

Headlong from thence the glowing Fury springs, And o'er the Theban palace spreads her wings, 170 Once more invades the guilty dome, and shrouds Its bright pavilions in a veil of clouds.

Straight with the rage of all their race possess'd, Stung to the soul, the brothers start from rest, And all their Furies wake within their breast: Their tortured minds repining Envy tears, And Hate, engender'd by suspicious fears: And sacred thirst of sway, and all the ties Of nature broke; and royal perjuries; And impotent desire to reign alone, 180 That scorns the dull reversion of a throne: Each would the sweets of sovereign rule devour, While Discord waits upon divided power.

As stubborn steers, by brawny ploughmen broke, And join'd reluctant to the galling yoke, Alike disdain with servile 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 confusion lay: Such was the discord of the royal pair 190 Whom fury drove precipitate to war.

In vain the chiefs contrived a specious way To govern Thebes by their alternate sway: Unjust decree! while this enjoys the state, That mourns in exile his unequal fate, And the short monarch of a hasty year Foresees with anguish his returning heir.

Thus did the league their impious arms restrain, But scarce subsisted to the second reign.

Yet then no proud aspiring piles were raised, 200 No fretted roofs with polish'd metals blazed; No labour'd columns in long order placed, No Grecian stone the pompous arches graced: No nightly bands in glittering armour wait Before the sleepless tyrant's guarded gate; No chargers then were wrought in burnish'd gold, Nor silver vases took the forming mould; Nor gems on bowls emboss'd were seen to shine, Blaze on the brims, and sparkle in the wine-- Say, wretched rivals! what provokes your rage? 210 Say, to what end your impious arms engage?

Not all bright Phoebus views in early morn, Or when his evening beams the west adorn, When the south glows with his meridian ray, And the cold north receives a fainter day; For crimes like these, not all those realms suffice, 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, O tyrant! swell'd thy soul that day, 220 When all were slaves thou couldst around survey, Pleased to behold unbounded power thy own, And singly fill a fear'd and envied throne!

But the vile vulgar, ever discontent, Their growing fears in secret murmurs vent; Still prone to change, though still the slaves of state, And sure the monarch whom they have, to hate; New lords they madly make, then tamely bear, And softly curse the tyrants whom they fear.

And one of those who groan beneath the sway 230 Of kings imposed, and grudgingly obey, (Whom envy to the great, and vulgar spite, With scandal arm'd, th' ignoble mind's delight) Exclaim'd--'O Thebes! for thee what fates remain, What woes attend this inauspicious reign?

Must we, alas! our doubtful necks prepare Each haughty master's yoke by turns to bear, And still to change whom changed we still must fear?

These now control a wretched people's fate These can divide, and these reverse the state: 240 E'en fortune rules no more--O servile land, Where exiled tyrants still by turns command!

Thou sire of gods and men, imperial Jove!

Is this th' eternal doom decreed above?

On thy own offspring hast thou fix'd this fate From the first birth of our unhappy state, When banish'd Cadmus, wandering o'er the main, For lost Europa search'd the world in vain, And, fated in Boeotian fields to found, A rising empire on a foreign ground, 250 First raised our walls on that ill omen'd plain Where earth-born brothers were by brothers slain?

What lofty looks th' unrivall'd monarch bears!

How all the tyrant in his face appears!

What sullen fury clouds his scornful brow!

Gods! how his eyes with threatening ardour glow!

Can this imperious lord forget to reign, Quit all his state, descend, and serve again?