Fame, that delights around the world to stray, Scorns not to take our Argos in her way. Ev'n those who dwell where funs at distance roll, In northern wilds, and freeze beneath the pole; And those who tread the burning Libyan lands, The faithlefs Syrtes, and the moving fands; Who view the western fea's extremeft bounds, Or drink of Ganges in their eaftern grounds; All these the woes of Oedipus have known, Your fates, your furies, and your haunted town. If on the fons the parents' crimes descend, What Prince from those his lineage can defend Be this thy comfort, that 'tis thine t' efface With virtuous acts thy ancestor's disgrace, And be thyself the honour of thy race. But fee! the stars begin to steal away, And fhine more faintly at approaching day.
Scimus, ait: nec fic averfum fama Mycenis
Volvit iter. regnum, et furias, oculofque pudentes Novit, et Arctoïs fi quis de folibus horret,
Quique bibit Gangen, aut nigrum occafibus intrat
Oceanum, et fi quos incerto littore Syrtes Deftituunt: ne perge queri, cafufque priorum Annumerare tibi. noftro quoque fanguine multum Erravit pietas; nec culpa nepotibus obstat. Tu modo diffimilis rebus mereare fecundis.
Sed jam temone supino
Languet Hyperboreae glacialis portitor urfae. Fundite vina focis, fervatoremque parentum
pour the wine; and in your tuneful lays Once more refound the great Apollo's praise.
Oh father Phoebus! whether Lycia's coaft
And fnowy mountains thy bright prefence boaft; 830 Whether to fweet Castalia thou repair,
And bathe in filver dews thy yellow hair; Or, pleas'd to find fair Delos float no more, Delight in Cynthus, and the fhady shore ; Or chufe thy feat in Ilion's proud abodes, The shining structures rais'd by labouring Gods : By thee the bow and mortal shafts are borne ; Eternal charms thy blooming youth adorn : Skill'd in the laws of fecret fate above, And the dark counfels of almighty Jove, 'Tis thine the feeds of future war to know, The change of fceptres, and impending woe;
Latoïden votis iterumque iterumque canamus. Phoebe parens, seu te Lyciae Pataraea nivofis Exercent dumeta jugis, feu rore pudico Caftaliae flavos amor eft tibi mergere crines;
Seu Trojam Thymbraeus habes, ubi fama volentem Ingratis Phrygios humeris fubiiffe molares: Seu juvat Aegaeum feriens Latonius umbra Cynthus, et affiduam pelago non quaerere Delon: 835 Tela tibi, longeque feros lentandus in hoftes Arcus, et aetherii dono ceffere parentes Aeternum florere genas. tu doctus iniquas Parcarum praenôffe minas, fatumque quod ultra eft, Et fummo placitura Jovi. quis letifer annus, Bella quibus populis, mutent quae fceptra cometae.
When direful meteors spread through glowing air Long trails of light, and shake their blazing hair. Thy rage the Phrygian felt, who durst aspire T'excel the mufic of thy heavenly lyre; Thy shafts aveng'd lewd Tityus' guilty flame; Th' immortal victim of thy mother's fame. Thy hand flew Python, and the dame who lost Her numerous offspring for a fatal boast. In Phlegya's doom thy just revenge appears, Condemn'd to furies and eternal fears;
He views his food, but dreads, with lifted eye, The mouldering rock that trembles from on high.
Propitious hear our prayer, O Power divine! And on thy hofpitable Argos fhine, Whether the style of Titan please thee more, Whose purple rays th' Achæmenes adore; Or great Ofiris, who first taught the swain In Pharian fields to fow the golden grain;
Tu Phryga fubmittis citharae. tu matris honori Terrigenam Tityon Stygiis extendis arenis. Te viridis Python, Thebanaque mater ovantem, Horruit in pharetris. ultrix tibi torva Megaera Jejunum Phlegyam fubter cava faxa jacentem Aeterno premit accubitu, dapibufque profanis Inftimulat: fed mifta famem faftidia vincunt. Adfis o memor hofpitii, Junoniaque arva
Dexter ames; feu te rofeum Titana vocari Gentis Achaemeniae ritu, feu praeftat Ofirin
Or Mitra, to whose beams the Perfian bows, And pays, in hollow rocks, his awful vows; Mitra, whofe head the blaze of light adorns, Who grafps the struggling heifer's lunar horns,
Frugiferum, feu Perfei fub rupibus antri Indignata fequi torquentem cornua Mitram,
From OVID'S METAMORPHOSIS, Book IX.
HE faid, and for her loft Galanthis fighs,
When the fair Confort of her fon replies : Since you a fervant's ravish'd form bemoan, And kindly figh for forrows not your own; Let me (if tears and grief permit) relate A nearer woe, a fifter's stranger fate. No Nymph of all Oechalia could compare For beauteous form with Dryope the fair, Her tender mother's only hope and pride, (Myfelf the offspring of a second bride) This Nymph comprefs'd by him who rules the day, Whom Delphi and the Delian isle obey,
DIXIT; et, admonitu veteris commota miniftrae,
Ingemuit; quam fic nurus eft adfata dolentem :
Te tamen, o genitrix, alienae fanguine veftro Rapta movet facies. quid fi tibi mira fororis Fata meae referam ? quanquam lacrymaeque dolorque Impediunt, prohibentque loqui. fuit unica matri
(Me pater ex alia genuit) notiffima formâ
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