Better to rush at once to fhades below,
Than linger life away, and nourish woe!
Thus he the beeves around securely ftray,
When swift to ruin they invade the prey;
They feize, they kill !-but for the rite divine,
The barley fail'd, and for libations wine.
Swift from the oak they strip the shady pride;
And verdant leaves the flowery cake fupply'd.
With prayer they now address th' ætherial train,
Slay the selected beeves, and flay the slain :
The thighs, with fat involv'd, divide with art,
Strew'd o'er with morfels cut from every part.
Water, inftead of wine, is brought in urns,
And pour'd profanely as the victim burns.
The thighs thus offer'd, and the entrails drest,
They roast the fragments, and prepare the feast.
'Twas then soft slumber fled my troubled brain; Back to the bark I speed along the main.
When, lo! an odour from the feaft exhales,
Spreads o'er the coast, and scents the tainted gales;
A chilly fear congeal'd my vital blood,
And thus obtefting Heaven I mourn'd aloud:
O Sire of men and gods, immortal Jove!
Oh, all ye blissful Powers that reign above!
Why were my cares beguil'd in short repose?
O fatal flumber paid with lafting woes!
A deed fo dreadful all the Gods alarms,
Vengeance is on the wing, and Heaven in arms!
Meantime Lampetie mounts th' aërial way,
And kindles into rage the God of Day:
Y
Vengeance, ye powers, (he cries) and thou whose hand Aims the red bolt, and hurls the writhen brand! Slain are thofe herds which I with pride survey, When through the ports of Heaven I pour Or deep in Ocean plunge the burning ray. Vengeance, ye Gods! or I the skies forego, And bear the lamp of heaven to fhades below. To whom the Thundering Power: O Source of Day! Whofe radiant lamp adorns the azure way,
Still may thy beams through heaven's bright portals rife,
The joy of earth, and glory of the skies;
Lo! my red arm I bare, my thunders guide,
To dash th' offenders in the whelming tide.
To fair Calypfo, from the bright abodes,
Hermes convey'd thefe councils of the Gods.
Meantime from man to man my tongue exclaims,
My wrath is kindled, and my soul in flames.
In vain! I view perform'd the direful deed,
Beeves, flain by heaps, along the ocean bleed.
Now Heaven gave figns of wrath; along the ground
Crept the raw hides, and with a bellowing found
Roar'd the dead limbs ; the burning entrails groan'd.
Six guilty days my wretched mates employ
In impious feafting, and unhallow'd joy ;
The feventh arofe, and now the Sire of Gods
Rein'd the rough storms, and calm'd the toffing floods:
With speed the bark we climb; the spacious fails
Loos'd from the yards invite th' impelling gales.
Paft fight of fhore, along the furge we bound,
And all above is sky, and ocean all around!
When, lo! a murky cloud the Thunderer forms
Full o'er our heads, and blackens heaven with ftorms.
Night dwells o'er all the deep and now outflies
The gloomy West, and whistles in the skies.
The mountain-billows roar! the furious blaft
Howls o'er the fhroud, and rends it from the maft:
The maft gives way, and, crackling as it bends,
Tears up the deck; then all at once defcends ;
The pilot by the tumbling ruin flain,
Dash'd from the helm, falls headlong in the main.
Then Jove in anger bids his thunders roll,
And forky lightnings flash from pole to pole.
Fierce at our heads his deadly bolt he aims,
Red with uncommon wrath, and wrapt in flames :
Full on the bark it fell; now high, now low,
Tofs'd and retofs'd, it reel'd beneath the blow;
At once into the main the crew it fhook :
Sulphureous odours rofe, and fmouldering fmoke.
Like fowl that haunt the floods, they fink, they rife,
Now loft, now feen, with fhrieks and dreadful cries;
And ftrive to gain the bark; but Jove denies.
Firm at the helm I ftand, when fierce the main
Rufh'd with dire noife, and dafh'd the fides in twain ;
Again impetuous drove the furious blast,
Snapt the strong helm, and bore to fea the mast.
Firm to the maft with cords the helm I bind,
And ride aloft, to Providence refign'd,
Through tumbling billows, and a war of wind.
Now funk the Weft, and now a Southern breeze
More dreadful than the tempeft, lash'd the feas;
For on the rocks it bore where Scylla raves,
And dire Charybdis rolls her thundering waves.
All night I drove; and at the dawn of day,
Fast by the rocks beheld the desperate way :
Just when the fea within her gulfs fubfides,
And in the roaring whirlpools rush the tides.
Swift from the float I vaulted with a bound,
The lofty fig-tree seiz'd, and clung around,
So to the beam the bat tenacious clings,
And pendent round it clafps his leathern wings.
High in the air the tree its boughs display'd,
And o'er the dungeon cast a dreadful shade,
All unfuftain'd between the wave and sky,
Beneath my feet the whirling billows fly,
What-time the judge forfakes the noisy bar
To take repaft, and ftills the wordy war;
Charybdis rumbling from her inmost caves,
The maft refunded on her refluent waves.
Swift from the tree, the floating mast to gain,
Sudden I dropp'd amidst the flashing main;
Once more undaunted on the ruin rode,
And oar'd with labouring arms along the flood.
Unfeen I pafs'd by Scylla's dire abodes :
So Jove decreed (dread Sire of men and gods).
Then nine long days I plough'd the calmer seas,
Heav'd by the furge, and wafted by the breeze.
Weary and wet th' Ogygian fhores I gain,
When the tenth fun defcended to the main.
There, in Calypfo's ever-fragrant bowers,
Refresh'd I lay, and joy beguil'd the hours.
My following fates to thee, O King, are known,
And the bright partner of thy royal throne.
Enough in mifery can words avail ?
And what fo tedious as a twice-told tale?
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