What if the Thracian horfes, fat with
Who human bodies in their mangers tore,,
I faw, and with their barbarous lord o'erthrew ?
What if these hands Nemæa's lion flew ?
Did not this neck the heavenly globe sustain ?-
The female partner of the thunderer's reign,
Fatigu❜d, at length suspends her harsh commands;
Yet no fatigue hath slack'd these valiant hands.
But now new plagues pursue me; neither force,
Nor arms, nor darts, can stop their raging course.
Devouring flame through my rack'd entrails ftrays, 95
And on my lungs and shrivel'd muscles
preys; Yet ftill Euryftheus breathes the vital air!
What mortal now fhall feek the gods with prayer?
THE hero faid; and, with the torture ftung,
Furious o'er Oete's lofty hills he fprung:
Stuck with the fhaft, thus fcours the tiger round,
And feeks the flying author of his wound.
Now might you fee him trembling, now he vents
His anguifh'd foul in groans and loud laments;
He strives to tear the clinging veft in vain,
And with up-rooted forefts ftrews the plain;
Now, kindling into rage, his hands he rears,
And to his kindred gods directs his prayers.
When Lychas, lo, he fpies; who trembling flew,
And, in a hollow rock conceal'd from view,
Had fhunn'd his wrath.
His madness chaf'd, and
Lychas, to thee alone
Now grief renew'd his pain, thus he raves again:
Who bore the gift, the cause of all my woe.
The youth all pale with fhivering fear was ftung,
And vain excufes faulter'd on his tongue.
Alcides fnatch'd him, as with fuppliant face
He ftrove to clafp his knees, and beg for grace:
He tofs'd him o'er his head with airy course,
And hurl❜d with more than with an engine's force
Far o'er th' Euboean main aloft he flies,
And hardens by degrees amid the skies.
So fhowery drops, when chilly tempests blow,
Thicken at first, then whiten into fnow;
In balls congeal'd the rolling fleeces bound,
In folid hail refult upon the ground.
Thus, whirl'd with nervous force through diftant air, The purple tide forfook his veins with fear; All moisture left his limbs. Transform'd to ftone, In ancient days the craggy flint was known : Still in th' Euboean waves his front he rears, Still the small rock in human form appears, And ftill the name of haplefs Lychas bears.
OF HERCULES.
BUT now the hero of immortal birth
Fells Oete's forefts on the groaning earth;
A pile he builds; to Philoctetes' care
He leaves his deathful inftruments of war;
To him commits thofe arrows, which again
Muft fee the bulwarks of the Trojan reign.
The fon of Pean lights the lofty pyre,
High round the structure climbs the greedy fire;
Plac'd on the top, thy nervous shoulders spread
With the Nemean spoils thy careless head ;
Rais'd on the knotty club, with look divine ;
Here thou, dread hero of celestial line,
Wast stretch'd at ease; as when, a cheerful gueft,
Wine crown'd thy bowls, and flowers thy temples dreft.
Now on all fides the potent flames afpire,
And crackle round thofe limbs that mock the fire.
A fudden tremor seiz'd th' immortal hoft,
Who thought the world's profeft defender loft.
This when the thunderer faw, with fmiles he cries, 'Tis from your fears, ye gods, my pleasures rife ; 20 Joy fwells my breast, that my all-ruling hand O'er such a grateful people boasts command, That you my fuffering progeny would aid ; Though to his deeds this juft respect be paid, Me you've oblig'd. Be all your fears forborn, Th' Oetean fires do thou, great hero, scorn.
Who vanquish'd all things, fhall fubdue the flame.
That part alone of grofs maternal frame
Fire fhall devour; while what from me he drew
Shall live immortal, and its force fubdue ;
That, when he's dead, I'll raife to realms above;
May all the powers the righteous act approve!
If any god diffent, and judge too great
The facred honours of the heavenly seat,
Ev'n he fhall own, his deeds deserve the sky,
Ev'n he, reluctant, shall at length comply.
Th' affembled
Had mark'd with paffion vengeful Juno's brow.
Meanwhile whate'er was in the power of flame
Was all confum'd, his body's nervous frame
No more was known ;-of human form bereft,
Th' eternal part of Jove alone was left.
As an old ferpent cafts his fcaly veft,
Wreathes in the fun, in youthful glory dreft;
So when Alcides mortal mould refign'd,
His better part enlarg'd, and grew refin’d,
Auguft his vifage fhone; almighty Jove
Is his fwift car his honour'd offspring drove;
High o'er the hollow clouds the courfers fly,
And lodge the hero in the starry sky.
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