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Whose fall when first the tragic virgin saw,
She fled, and left her province to the law.
Her merry sister still pursu'd the game,
Her garb was alter'd, but her gifts the same.
She first reform'd the muscles of her face,
And learnt the solemn screw for signs of grace;
Then circumcis'd her locks, and form'd her tone,
By humming to a tabor and a drone;
Her eyes she disciplin'd precisely right,
Both when to wink, and how to turn the white:
Thus banish'd from the stage, she gravely next
Assum'd a cloke, and quibbled o'er a text.

But when, by miracles of mercy shown, Much - suffering Charles regain'd his father's throne;

When peace and plenty overflow'd the land,
She straight pull'd off her satin cap and band;
Bade Wycherly be bold in her defence,
With pointed wit, and energy of sense;
Etherege and Sedley join'd him in her cause,
And all deserv'd, and all receiv'd, applause.
Restor'd with less success, the Tragic Muse
Had quite forgot her style by long disuse;
She taught her Maximins to rant in rhyme,
Mistaking rattling nonsense for sublime;
Till witty Buckingham reform'd her taste,
And sneering sham'd her into sense at last.
But, now relaps'd, she dwindles to a song,
And weakly warbles on an eunuch's tongue;
And with her minstrelsy may still remain,
Till Southerne court her to be great again.
Perhaps the beauties of thy Spartan dame,
Who (long defrauded of the public fame)
Shall, with superior majesty avow'd,
Shine like a goddess breaking from a cloud;
Once more may reinstate her on the stage,
Her action graceful, and divine her rage.

Arts have their empires, and, like other states,
Their rise and fall are govern'd by the Fates:
They, when their period's measur'd out by Time,
Transplant their laurels to another clime.
The Grecian Muse once fill'd with loud alarms
The court of Heaven, and clad the gods in arms;
The trumpet silent, humbly she essay'd
The Doric reed, and sung beneath the shade;
Extoll'd a frugal life, and taught the swains
T'observe the seasons, and manure the plains;
Sometimes in warbled hymns she paid her vow,
Or wove Olympic wreaths for Theron's brow;
Sometimes on flowery beds she lay supine,
And gave her thoughts a loose to love and wine;
Or, in her sable stole and buskins dress'd,
Show'd Vice enthron'd, and virtuous kings op-
press'd.

The nymph still fair, however past her bloom, From Greece at length was led in chains to Rome: Whilst wars abroad, and civil discord, reign'd, Silent the beauteous captive long remain’'d; That interval employ'd her timely care To study, and refine the language there. She views with anguish, on the Roman stage, The Grecian beauties weep, the warriors rage: But most those scenes delight th' immortal maid, Which Scipio had revis'd, and Roscius play'd. Thence to the pleadings of the gown she goes (For Themis then could speak in polish'd prose): Charm'd at the bar, amid th' attentive throng, She bless'd the Syren-power of Tully's tongue. But when, Octavius, thy successful sword Was sheath'd, and universal peace restor❜d,

Fond of a monarch, to the court she came,
And chose a numerous choir to chant his fame.
First from the green retreats and lowly plains,
Her Virgil soar'd sublime in epic strains;
His theme so glorious, and his flight so true,
She with Mæonian garlands grac'd his brow;
Taught Horace then to touch the Lesbian lyre,
And Sappho's sweetness join'd with Pindar's fire.
By Cæsar's bounty all the tuneful train
Enjoy'd, and sung of Saturn's golden reign;
No genius then was left to live on praise,
Or curs'd the barren ornament of bays;
On all her sons he cast a kind regard,
Nor could they write so fast as he reward.
The Muse, industrious to record his name
In the bright annals of eternal Fame,
Profuse of favours, lavish'd all her store,
And for one reign made many ages poor.

Now from the rugged North unnumber'd swarms
Invade the Latian coasts with barbarous arms;
A race unpolish'd, but inur'd to toil,
Rough as their heaven, and barren as their soil.
These locusts every springing art destroy'd,
And soft Humanity before them dy'd.

Picture no more maintain'd the doubtful strife
With Nature's scenes, nor gave the canvas life;
Nor Sculpture exercis'd her skill, beneath
Her forming hand, to make the marble breathe:
Struck with despair, they stood devoid of thought,
Less lively than the works themselves had wrought
On those twin-sisters such disasters came,
Though colours and proportions are the same
In every age and clime; their beauties known
To every language, and confin'd by none.
But Fate less freedom to the Muse affords,
And checks her genius with the choice of words:
To paint her thoughts, the diction must be found
Of easy grandeur, and harmonious sound.
Thus when she rais'd her voice divinely great
To sing the founder of the Roman state;
The language was adapted to the song,
Sweet and sublime, with native beauty strong:
But when the Goths insulting troops appear'd,
Such dissonance the trembling virgin heard!
Chang'd to a swan, from Tyber's troubled streams
She wing'd her flight, and sought the silver Thames.
Long in the melancholy grove she staid,
And taught the pensive Druids in the shade;
In solemn and instructive notes they sung
From whence the beauteous frame of Nature
sprung,

Who polish'd all the radiant orbs above,
And in bright order made the planets move;
Whence thunders roar, and frightful meteors fly,
And comets roll unbounded through the sky;
Who wing'd the winds, and gave the streams to
flow,

And rais'd the rocks, and spread the lawns below;
Whence the gay Spring exults in flowery pride,
And Autumn with the bleeding grape is dy'd ;
Whence Summer suns embrown the labouring

swains,

And shivering Winter pines in icy chains:
And prais'd the Power Supreme, nor dar'd advance
So vain a theory as that of Chance.

But in this isle she found the nymphs so fair,
She chang'd her hand, and chose a softer air,
And Love and Beauty next became her care.
Greece, her lov'd country, only could afford
A Venus and a Helen to record;

A thousand radiant nymphs she here beheld,
Who match'd the goddess, and the queen excell'd.
T'immortalize their loves she long essay'd,
But still the tongue her generous toil betray'd.
Chaucer had all that beauty could inspire,
And Surrey's numbers glow'd with warm desire:
Both now are priz'd by few, unknown, to most,
Because the thoughts are in the language lost.
Even Spenser's pearls in muddy waters lie,
Yet soon their beams attract the diver's eye:
Rich was their imagery, till Time defac'd
The curious works; but Waller came at last.
Waller, the Muse with heavenly verse supplies,
Smooth as the fair, and sparkling as their eyes;
"All but the nymph that should redress his
wrong,

Attend his passion, and approve his song."
But when this Orpheus sunk, and hoary age
Suppress'd the lover's and the poet's rage,
To Granville his melodious lute she gave,
Granville, whose faithful verse is beauty's slave;
Accept this gift, my favourite youth!" she
cry'd,

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"To sound a brighter theme, and sing of Hyde ; Hyde's and thy lovely Myra's praise proclaim, And match Carlisle's and Sacharissa's fame."

O! would he now forsake the myrtle grove, And sing of arms, as late he sung of love! His colours and his hand alone should paint, In Britain's queen, the warrior and the saint; In whom conspire, to form her truly great, Wisdom with power, and piety with state. Whilst from her throne the streams of justice flow, Strong and serene, to bless the land below; O'er distant realms her dreaded thunders roll, And the wild rage of tyranny control. Her power to quell, and pity to redress, The Maese, the Danube, and the Rhine, confess; Whence bleeding Iber hopes around his head To see fresh olive spring, and plenty spread : And whilst they sound their great deliverer's fame, The Seine retires, and sickens at her name. O Granville! all these glorious scenes display, Instruct succeeding monarchs how to sway; And make her memory rever'd by all,

When triumphs are forgot, and inouldering arches fall.

Pardon me, friend! I own my Muse too free,
To write so long on such a theme to thee:
To play the critic here with equal right
Bid her pretend to teach Argyle to fight;
Instruct th' unerring Sun to guide the year,
And Harley by what schemes he ought to steer;
Give Harcourt eloquence t' adorn the seal,
Maxims of state to Leeds, to Beaufort zeal;
Try to correct what Orrery shall write,

And make harmonious St. John more polite;
Teach law to Isla for the crown's support,
And Jersey how to serve and grace a court;
Dictate soft warbling airs to Sheffield's hand,
When Venus and her Loves around him stand;
In sage debates to Rochester impart
A searching head, and ever faithful heart;
Make Talbot's finish'd' virtue more complete,
High without pride, and amiably great,
Where Nature all her powers with Fortune join'd,
At once to please and benefit mankind.

When cares were to my blooming youth un-
known,

My fancy free, and all my hours my own;
VOL. X.

I lov'd along the laureat grove to stray,
The paths were pleasant, and the prospect gay:
But now my genius siuks, and hardly knows
To make a couplet tinkle in the close.
Yet when you next to Medway shall repair,
And quit the town to breathe a purer air;
Retiring from the crowd to steal the sweets
Of easy life in Twysden's calm retreats
(As Terence to his Lælius lov'd to come,
And in Campania scorn'd the pomp of Rome;)
Where Lambard, form'd for business, and to
please,

By sharing, will improve your happiness;
In both their souls imperial Reason sways,
In both the patriot and the friend displays;
Belov'd, and prais'd by all, who merit love and
praise.

With bright ideas there inspir'd anew,
By them excited, and inform'd by you,
I inay with happier skill essay to sing
Sublimer notes, and strike a bolder string.

Languid and dull, when absent from her cave, No oracles of old the Sibyl gave;

But when beneath her sacred shrine she stood,
Her fury soon confess'd the coming god;
Her breast began to heave, her eyes to roll,
And wondrous visions fill'd her labouring soul.

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SIR Knight, who know with equal skill
To make a poem and a pill,
To be tormented with a spright.
'Twas my misfortune, t'other night,

On either side his head the hair
Seem'd bushing out, the top was bare;
His garb antique, but on his face
There reign'd a sweet majestic grace ;
Of comely port, and in his hand
He decent wav'd a laurel-wand.
On the left foot (by which I found
His name was on the stage renown'd)
A sock of curious shape he wore,
With myrtle foliage flourish'd o'er;
A purple buskin grac'd the right,
And strong he stepp'd, yet lovely light.
"I crave

"Thy friendly care," he cry'd,
To give me quiet in my grave:
Tryphon constrains me from the dead,
A wizard whom I hate and dread;
By him to dangle on a post,
I'm conjur'd up- Alas, poor ghost!'
A pendulum I there am made,

To move the leaden wheels of trade.
And while each little author struts
In calves-skin gilt, adorn'd with cuts;
I, vouching, pass 'em off as dear
As any staple-classic ware.
Peers, parsons, cits, a motley tribe,
Flock there to purchase, and subscribe;
While Tryphon, as the gudgeons bite,
Chuckles to see them grow polite.

Dd

"For ends thus infamously low, It sure would seem as a-propos, For Dennis at his door to stand, With a good broomstick in his band.

Then should the chaps find ought amiss,
Or blame the price, the tragic Swiss
Might have his better parts employ'd,
To criticise them back and side.

"Or is there none of all his race,
Whose features would a sign-board grace?
Oft in the wizard's cell I've seen
A sorrel man, of awkward mien,
Prying with busy leer about,
As if he were the devil's scout.
I ne'er was vers'd in modish vice,

But sure those whoreson gloating eyes
Have travell'd much on love affairs,
Between the key-hole and the stairs.
O cheat the gibbet of a sign,
And with his head commute for mine.

"When first I heard his damn'd intent,
To Tryphon's bed by night I went,
Where he lay blest with dreams of gain,
Furs, scarlet, and a golden chain.
I rous'd the wretch, and weeping said,

O! take my wit, and spare my head,
Urge not the wags to sneer, and jape us,
Just as of old they us'd Priapus.'
But as a whelp starts up with fear,
When a bee's humming at his ear:
With upper lip elate, he grins,
Whilst round the little teazer spins;
But when aloof in air it soars,

He straight forgets th' alarm, and snores:
So did his fellow-creature slight
The fleeting vision of the night.

My prayers were lost, though, while I stay'd,
I smelt they strong impressions made.

"There is a knight, who takes the field
With Saxon pen, and sable shield;
Who doubtless can relieve my ghost,
And disenchant me from the post.
Then I could rest as still as those
Whom he has drugg'd to sure repose;
As if he traded in the whole,
And with the body kill'd the soul.
To him for aid with speed repair-

But soft! I scent the morning air :'
Be mindful of my piteous plight,
And to my cause engage the knight."

Now, gentle sir, give ear to me,
For I prescribe without a fee;
From Curll's remove the seat of war,
Encamp on t'other side the Bar:
Level your eye at Tryphon's shop,
Another epic at him pop;

What though without report it move,
Like the sure darts of Death or Love?
I know your powder is so strong,
No mortal sign can stand you long.

But if by magic this oppose
The alley of your verse and prose;
I'll be your 'squire, and firm ally,
Write, crimp, and coax him up to buy;
Not all the necromancer's art
Will save it then, beshrew his heart!
What can support a shop, or sign,
When two such perilous wits combine?

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WHEN speeding sea-ward, to the fleet we came
That anchor'd nigh the coast, we launch'd our ship
Into the sacred deep: the mast up-rear'd
Bore every sail expanded; whilst aboard
We stow'd devoted victims, and ascend
The vessel, inly griev'd, and silent showers
Fell from our drooping eyes. A friendly wind
Circe the fair, of human race divine,
Propitious sent; to ply the struggling oar
Small need remain'd, the freshening gale suffic'd
Each bellying canvas. On with speed we fare
Prosperous; and when the Sun, careering prone,
Sunk to the western isles, and dewy shade
Sabled the pole, we, tilting o'er the waves

On Ocean's utmost bound, approach'd the realms
Unbless'd, where the Cimmerians darkling dwell;
(A lamentable race!) of heavenly light
Unvisited, and the Sun's gladsome ray.
Mooring the vessel on that dreary beach,
We take the destin'd sheep, and slow sojourn
Along the marish, till the fated place

We found, which Circe will'd we should explore.
Eurylochus and Perimedes guard

The holy offerings; I meantime unsheath
My falchion, and prepare t' entrench the ground
A cubit square, and there oblations pour
To reconcile the shades; infusing milk
With honey temper'd sweet, and bowls of must
Pure from the mellowest grape, with added store
Of water; and with flower of wheat bestrow
The mix'd ingredients: to the feeble ghosts
Then vow'd, if Heaven to my dear native land
Should favour my return, a barren cow
Of stateliest growth; and to the oraculous seer'
A ram of sable fleece, the leading pride
Of all my flocks. These solemn rites perform'd,
And vows prefer'd, the destin'd sheep I slew :
Forth gush'd the vital purple, and surcharg'd
The hollow'd trench, when, lo! from the dun
verge

Of Erebus, the ghosts promiscuous troop
Unnumber'd, youths and maidens immature
Cropt in their spring, who, wandering pensive,
wail'd

The shortness of their date: trembling, and hoar
With age, some slowly pace; others, more fierce,
Array'd in arms, ensanguin'd o'er with wounds
Receiv'd in battle, clamorous approach

To drink the reeking gore. Shuddering and pale
I stood astounded, but with quick dispatch
Bade burn the sacrifice, a grateful steam
To Proserpine, who there with Dis divides
The regency of night: sudden I wav'd
My glittering falchion, from the sanguine poo!

! Tiresias.

Driving th' unbody'd host that round me swarm'd;
Nor deign'd to let them sip, before I saw
Th' oraculous seer. Foremost of all the crowd
Elpenor came, whose unregarded corse
We left behind in Circe's sumptuous dome,
Unwept, unbury'd, eager to pursue

Our voyage: straight to tender pity mov'd,
With words dissolv'd in tears, I cry'd, "Relate,
Elpenor, how these rueful shades you reach'd
Sooner than I full-sail'd." He thus reply'd,
In accents of much dolour: "Me, O king!
The minister of adverse Fate malign'd,
Unweeting of mishap; and wrought my doom,
Drench'd with excess of wine: prone from the top
Of Circe's tower I fell, and, the neck-bones
Disjointing, dy'd. But to your pious care
Suppliant, I beg by those endearing names
Of parent, wife, and son, (though distant, dear
To your remembrance) when you re-ascend
To Circe's blissful isle, to my remains
Discharge funereal rites; nor let me lie
Unwept, unbury'd there, lest Heaven avenge
The dire neglect. While the devouring flames
Consume my earthy, on the flagrant pile
My armour cast complete; then raise a tomb
For my memorial on the foamy strand;
And on it place that oar which erst I ply'd
With my associates." Pensive I rejoin,
"Poor shade! I'll pay the decent rites you crave."
While with the friendly phantom 1 maintain'd
Such melancholy parley, with brandish'd steel
Guarding the gory pool, I through th' obscure
My mother view'd: her lineage she deriv'd
From Maia's wingy son, and ceas'd to breathe
This vital air, since I my legion led
To war on Ilium. From my pitying eyes
Abundant sorrow stream'd; but though regret
Wither'd my resolution, from the pool
I made the dear maternal form recede,
Till I should learn from the grave Theban seer
The sum of fate. The sage at length advanc'd,.
Bearing a golden sceptre, and began:

"Son of Laertes, what misfortunes dire
Compel your progress from th' all-cheering Sun,
And heavenly azure, in this seat of woe
To roam among the dead? But from the pool
Withdraw, and sheath your falchion, while I taste
That bloody beverage, then the Fates' decree
Instant I'll utter." Sudden I withdrew.
Sheathing my falchion, whilst he drank the gore;
Then thus the seer pronounc'd the Fates' decree.
"What means may best befit your wish'd return.
Illustrious Greek! you'd know. The sovereign
power,

Whose strong earth-shaking mace the floods revere,
Insidious waits a time to wreak revenge
For Polypheme, his son; whose visual orb
You late eclips'd with ever-during shade.
Howe'er you safe may voyage, and avoid
Disasters various, if your mates refrain
From sacrilegious spoil, when safe they tread
Trinacria's herby soil: for there the flocks
And herds of Phoebus o'er the verdurous lawn
Browze fattening pasture (he, the world's great eye,
Views all below his oricat beam, nor aught
Can shun his wakeful ear) with evil hand
If them they seize, unerring 1 f retel
An hideous wreck. Unequal to the storm,

1 Antic a

Your ship, deep in the nether waves ingulft,
Shall perish with her crew: you shall regain
The dry, without surviving friend to cheer
Your pilgrim-steps: however, late and hard,
You shall revisit your lov'd natal shore,
Transported in a vessel not your own.
Much of domestic damage, and misrule,
Will sadden your return; for in your court
Suitors voluptuous swarm; with amorous wiles
Studious to win your consort, and seduce
Her from chaste fealty to joys impure,
In bridal pomp; vain efforts! but they soon
By stratagem, or our puissant arm,
To ruin are fore doom'd. Then to a race
Remote from ocean, who with savoury salt
Ne'er season their repast, nor vessel view'd
Furrowing the foamy flood with painted prow,
And all her tackle trim, with speed repair,
Carrying a taper oar; way-faring thus,
One journeying obvious will misname that oar
A corn van; fix it there, and victims slay
To Neptune reverent; from the fleecy fold
A ram select; and from the beeves and swine,
The choicest male entire, of either herd.
Thence homeward haste, and hecatombs prepare
For the bright order of the gods, who reign
Spher'd in empyreal splendours. White with years,
The balm of life evaporating slow,

At length, when Neptune points the dart of death',
Without a pang you'll die, and leave your land
With fair abundance bless'd. In these fix'd laws
Of Fate repose affiance, and beware."

I thus reply'd: "In this authentic will
Of Fate, O seer! I acquiesce; but lo!
Pensive and silent, by the gory pool,
Abides my mother's shade; nor me vouchsafes
Language or look benign: Oh! tell me how
She here may recognize me." He rejoin'd:
"Whatever ghost, by your permission, sips
That sacred purple, will to all your quest
Without deceit reply: the rest withdraw
At your stern interdict." This said, the seer
To the high capital of Dis retir'd.

Meantime I firm abode, till the dear shade
Had sip'd the sacred purple; then her son
Instant she knew, and, wailing, thus began:
"My son how reach'd you these Tartarean
bounds,

Corporeal? Many a river interfus'd,
And gulphs unvoyageable, from access
Debar each living wight; besides th' expanse
Of ocean wide to sail. Are you from Troy,
With your associate peers, but now return'd,
Erroneous, from your wife and kingdom still?”
I thus: "By strong necessity constrain'd,
Down to these nether realms I have presum'd
An earthly guest, to hear my doom disclos'd
By sage Tiresias; for since I led

Auxiliar bands, with Agamemnon leagu'd
To war on Ilium, traversing the main
Through various perils, I have voyag'd far
Estrang'd from Greece. But say by what disease,
By slow consumption, through the gates of Death
Prone did you pass; or, by Diana's dart
Transfix'd, a sudden fate? My hoary sire!
Survives he? Is my bloomy son possess'd
of my domain, or groans it now beneath
Usurping powers, who lord it uncontroll'd,

He was killed with the bone of a sea-turtle.

Thoughtless of my return? My consort dear!
Abides she with my son, of all his rights
A guardian regent; or, no longer mine,
Hath she been won to plight connubial vows?"
'The venerable shade thus answer'd mild:
"Still in your regal dome your spouse abides
Disconsolate, with ever-flowing eyes
Wailing your absence; and your son possess'd
Of principality, with his compeers,
Bounteous of soul, free intercourse maintains
Of social love. Beneath a sylvan lodge,
Far from the cheerful steps of men, your sire
Lives inconsolable; on gorgeous beds,
With rich embroidery spread, and purple palls,
No more indulging sweet repose; but clad
In coarse attire, couch'd with his village hinds,
On the warm hearth he sleeps, when Winter reigns
Inclement, till the circling Months return
New-rob'd in flowering verdure: then, the vines
High interwove a green pavilion form,
Where, pillow'd on the leaves, he mourns for you
Nocturnal; to th' unfriendly damp of age
Adding corrosive anguish and despair.
So perish'd I with slow consuming pile!
Me no: the silver-shafted goddess stew,
Nor racking malady, but anxious love
Of my Ulysses on my vitals prey'd,

And sunk my age with sorrow to the grave."

66

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She ceas'd: I thrice, with filial fondness, strove 'T' embrace the much-lov'd form, and thrice it fled, Delusive as a dream. Anew with grief Heart-chill'd, Ispake: Why, mother, will you Your son's encircling arms? O here permit My duteous love, and let our sorrows flow Mingling in one full stream! Or has the queen, Whose frown the shades revere, to work me woe, A guileful image form'd ?" She thus replies:

"Of all mankind, most to grief inur'd!
Deem not that aught of guile by phantoms vain
Is here intended, but the essence pure
Of separate souls is of all living touch
Impassive: here no gross material frame
We wear, with flesh encumber'd, nerves, and bone;
They're calcin'd on the pile: but when we cease
To draw the breath of life, the soul on wing
Fleets like a dream, from elemental dross
Disparted and refin'd. Now to the realis
Illumin'd with the Sun's enlivening beam
Hence journeying upward, to your consort dear
Disclose the secrets of our state below."

Thus we alternate, till a beauteous train
Of nobless near advance their steps, enlarg'd
By radiant Proserpine, daughters and wives
To kings and heroes old: the gory pool
The fair assembly thick surround, to sip
The tasteful liquid: I the fates of each
Desirous to hear storied, wave my sword
In airy circles, while they singly sate
Their appetites; then curious ask of each
Her ancestry, which all in order told.

Tyro first audience claim'd, the daughter fair
Of great Salmoneus; she with Cretheus shar'd
Connubial love, but long in virgin bloom
Enamour'd of Enipeus, inly pin'd:
En pens, swift from whose reclining urn
Rolls a delicious flood. His lovely form
Neptunc assum'd, and the bright nymph beguil'd,
Wandering, love pensive, near his amber stream:
Then, plunging in the slopy flood, receiv'd
Redounding; and, to screen his amorous theft,

On either side the parted waves up-rear'd
A crystal mound. Potent of rapturous joy, -
And sated, thus he spake: "Hail, royal fair!
Thy womb shall teem with twins, (a god's embrace
Is ever fruitful) and those pledges dear
Of our sweet casual bliss nurture and tend
With a fond mother's care: hence homeward speed,
And from all human ken our amorous act
Conceal: so Neptune bids thee now farewell"
He ceas'd, and, diving sudden, was ingulph'd
Deep in the gurgling eddy. Two fair sons
Th' appointed months discharg'd, by supreme Jove
Both sceptr'd. Peleus first; his empire wide
Stretch'd o'er Tölcos, whose irriguous vales
His grazing folds o'erfleec'd: her younger birth,
Neleus, was honour'd through the sandy realm
Of Pylus. She by Cretheus then espous'd,
A fair increase, Eson and Pheres, bure;
And great Amythaon, who with fiery steeds
Oft disarray'd the foes in battle rang'd.

The daughter of Asopus next I view'd,
Antiope, boastful that she, by Jove
Impregnate, had the fam'd Amphion borne,
And Zethus, founder of imperial Thebes,
Stately with seven large gates, and bulwark'd strong
Against invading powers. Alcmena fair,
Amphitryon's consort, then advanc'd to view;
To Heaven's supreme who bore Alcides, buld
And lion-hearted. Next that lovely shade

Stood Megara, of Creon's royal race,
By great Alcides spous'd. To her succeeds
The sheeny forin of Epicaste, woo'd
By Occipus her son, to whom she deign'd
Spousal embraces, thoughtless of misdeed,
He having too (ill-starr'd!) destroy'd his sire,
His lineage with incestuous mixture soil'd,
Blinded by Destiny; but the just gods
Disclos'd th' unnatural scene. In Thebes he
sway'd,

With various ills by Heaven's afflictive rod
Discomfited; but she, through fell despair,
Self-strangled, from the stings of mortal life
Fled to the shades, and her surviving son
With delegated furies fierce pursued.

An amiable image next appear'd;
Bright Chloris, of Amphion's lofty stem
The youngest bud: in sweet attractive pomp.
On her the Graces ever waiting smit

The heart of Neleus, whom the Pylian tribes
Homag'd with fealty: from their wedded love
Sprung Nestor, Chromius, and the boastful powe
Of Periclyments; besides a nymph,
Pero, of form divine: her virgin vows
By many a prince were sought, but Nelens deign'd
To none her bed, but him whose prowess'd arm
Should force from Phylace a furious herd
Of wild Thessalian beeves, t' avenge the dower
Which Iphiclus detain'd. This bold emprise
A scer accepted; but, in combat foil'd,
In thrail for twelve revolving moons he lay,
Deep in a dungeon close immur'd, till found
Divine of fate, by solving problems quaint
Which Iphiclus propos'd, who straight dismiss'd
The captive; so was Jove's high will complete.
Then Leda, spous'd by Tyndarus, I saw,
Mother of the fam'd twins, Castor expert
To tame the steed, and Pollux far renown'd
On listed fields for conflict; who from Jove
Receiv'd a grateful boon like gods to live,
Mounting alternate to this upper ort.

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