Then on the Rock a scanty Measure place
Of Vital Flax, and turn'd the Wheel apace;
And turning fung, To this red Brand and thee,
O new-born Babe, we give an equal Destiny:
So vanish'd out of View. The frighted Dame
Sprung hasty from her Bed, and quench'd the Flame:
The Log in secret lock'd, she kept with Care,
And that, while thus preserv'd, preserv'd her Heir.
This Brand she now produc'd; and first she strows
The Hearth with Heaps of Chips, and after blows, Thrice heav'd her Hand, and heav'd, she thrice
The Sister and the Mother long conteft [repress'd;
Two doubtful Titles in one tender Breast:
And now her Eyes and Cheeks with Fury glow,
Now pale her Cheeks, her Eyes with Pity flow:
Now low'ring Looks presage approaching Storms, And now prevailing Love her Face reforms:
Resolv'd, she doubts again; the Tears she dry'd
With burning Rage, are by new Tears supply'd;
And as a Ship, which Winds and Waves affail,
Now with the Current drives, now with the Gale,
Both opposite, and neither long prevail:
She feels a double Force, by Turns obeys
Th'imperious Tempest, and th'impetuous Seas:
So fares Althea's Mind; she first relents
With Pity, of that Pity then repents:
Sister and Mother long the Scales divide,
But the Beam nodded on the Sisters side..
Sometimes she softly sigh'd, then roar'd aloud;
But Sighs were stifled in the Cries of Blood.
The pious, impious Wretch at length decreed,
To please her Brother's Ghost, her Son should bleed:
And when the Fun'ral Flames began to rife,
Receive, she said, a Sister's Sacrifice;
A Mother's Bowels burn: High in her Hand,
Thus while she spoke, she held the fatal Brand;
Then thrice before the kindled Pile she bow'd,
And the three Furies thrice invok'd aloud:
Come, come, revenging Sisters, come and view
• A Sister paying her dead Brothers Due:
A Crime I punish, and a Crime commit;
But Blood for Blood, and Death for Death is fit:
Great Crimes must be with greater Crimes repaid,
And fecond Funerals on the former laid.
Let the whole Houshold in one Ruin fall,
And may Diana's Curse o'ertake us all.
Shall Fate to happy Oeneus still allow
One Son, while Theftius stands depriv'd of two?
Better three loft, than one unpunish'd go.
Take then, dear Ghosts, (while yet admitted new In Hell you wait my Duty) take your Due:
A costly Off'ring on your Tomb is laid,
When with my Blood the Price of yours is paid.
Ah! Whither am I hurry'd? Ah! forgive,
Ye Shades, and let your Sisters Issue live:
A Mother cannot give him Death; tho' he
Deserves it, he deserves it not from me.
Then shall th'unpunish'd Wretch insult the Slain,
Triumphant live, nor only live, but reign?
While you, thin Shades, the Sport of Winds, are tost
O'er dreery Plains, or tread the burning Coast.
I cannot, cannot bear; 'tis past, 'tis done;.......
Perish this impious, this detested Son:
Perish his Sire, and perish I withal;
And let the Houses Heir, and the hop'd Kingdom fall.
Where is the Mother fled, her pious Love, And where the Pains with which ten Months I
Ah! hadst thou dy'd, my Son, in Infant-years,
Thy little Herse had been bedew'd with Tears.
Thou liv'st by me; to me thy Breath resign;
Mine is the Merit, the Demerit thine.
Thy Life by double Title I require;
Once giv'n at Birth, and once preserv'd from Fire:
One Murder pay, or add one Murder more,
And me to them who fell by thee reftore.
I would, but cannot: My Son's Image stands
Before my Sight; and now their angry Hands
My Brothers hold, and Vengeance these exact,
This pleads Compassion, and repents the Fact...
He pleads in vain, and I pronounce his Doom:
My Brothers, though unjustly, shall o'ercome.
But having paid their injur'd Ghofsts their Due,
My Son requires my Death, and mine shall his
At this, for the last time she lifts her Hand, α Averts her Eyes, and, half unwilling, drops the
'The Brand, amid the flaming Fewel thrown,
Or drew, or feem'd to draw a dying Groan:
The Fires themselves but faintly lick'd their Prey,
Then loath'd their impious Food, and would
Just then the Heroe caft a doleful Cry, And in those absent Flames began to fry: The blind Contagion rag'd within his Veins; But he with manly Patience bore his Pains: He fear'd not Fate, but only griev'd to die Without an honest Wound, and by a Death so dry. Happy Anceus, thrice aloud he cry'd, With what becoming Fate in Arms he dy'd! Then call'd his Brothers, Sisters, Sire, around, And her to whom his Nuptial Vows were bound; . Perhaps his Mother; a long Sigh he drew, And his Voice failing, took his last Adieu: For as the Flames augment, and as they stay At their full Height, then languish to decay, They rife, and sink by Fits; at last they foar In one bright Blaze, and then descend no more: Just so his inward Heats at height, impair, [Air. Till the last burning Breath shoots out the Soul in
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