my loft fire continual forrows spring,
The great, the good; your father, and your king.
Yet more; our house from its foundation bows,
Our foes are powerful, and your fons the foes:
Hither, unwelcome to the queen, they come;
Why feek they not the rich Icarian dome!
If the muft wed, from other hands require
The dowry is Telemachus her fire?
Yet through my court the noise of revel rings,
And wastes the wife frugality of kings.
Scarce all my herds their luxury fuffice;
Scarce all my wine their midnight hours fupplies.
Safe in my youth, in riot still they grow,
Nor in the helpless orphan dread a foe.
But come it will, the time when manhood grants
More powerful advocates than vain complaints.
Approach that hour! insufferable wrong
Cries to the Gods, and vengeance fleeps too long. 70
Rife then, ye Peers! with virtuous anger rife;
Your fame revere, but most th' avenging skies.
By all the deathlefs powers that reign above,
By righteous Themis and by thundering Jove,
(Themis, who gives to councils, or denies;
Succefs; and humbles, or confirms the wife)
Rife in my aid! fuffice the tears that flow
For
my loft fire, nor add new woe to woe.
If e'er he bore the fword to ftrengthen ill,
Or, having power to wrong, betray'd the will,
On me, on me your kindled wrath affwage,
And bid the voice of lawless riot rage.
If ruin to our royal race ye doom,
Be you the spoilers, and our wealth confume.
Then might we hope redress from juster laws,
And raise all Ithaca to aid our caufe:
But while your fons commit th' unpunish'd wrong,
You make the arm of violence too strong.
While thus he spoke, with rage and grief he frown'd, And dafh'd th' imperial fceptre to the ground. The big round tear hung trembling in his eye: The fynod griev'd, and gave a pitying figh, Then filent fate-at length Antinous burns With haughty rage, and sternly thus returns:
O infolence of youth! whofe tongue affords Such railing eloquence, and war of words. Studious thy country's worthies to defame, Thy erring voice difplays thy mother's fhame. Elufive of the bridal day, fhe gives
Fond hope to all, and all with hopes deceives.
Did not the fun, through heaven's wide azure roll'd,
For three long years the royal fraud behold?
While fhe, laborious in delufion spread
The fpacious loom, and mix'd the various thread : Where as to life the wondrous figures rife, Thus fpoke th' inventive queen, with artful fighs: "Though cold in death Ulyffes breathes no more, "Ceafe yet a while to urge the bridal hour; "Ceafe, till to great Laërtes I bequeath "A task of grief, his ornaments of death. "Left when the Fates his royal ashes claim, "The Grecian matrons taint my fpotless fame;
When he, whom living mighty realms obey'd,
"Shall want in death a shroud to grace his fhade."
Thus fhe: at once the generous train complies, 115.
Nor fraud mistrafts in Virtue's fair disguise.
The work the ply'd; but, ftudious of delay,
By night revers'd the labours of the day.
While thrice the fun his annual journey made,
The confcious lamp the midnight fraud survey'd; 120
Unheard, unfeen, three years her arts prevail;
The fourth, her maid unfolds th' amazing tale.
We saw, as unperceiv'd we took our stand,
The backward labours of her faithless hand.
Then urg'd, the perfects her illustrious toils;
A wondrous monument of female wiles!
But
peers! and thou, oh prince! give ear (I speak aloud, that every Greek may hear): Difmifs the queen: and if her fire approves, Let him espouse her to the peer she loves: Bid instant to prepare the bridal train, Nor let a race of princes wait in vain. Though with a grace divine her foul is bleft, And all Minerva breathes within her breast, In wondrous arts than woman more renown'd, And more than woman with deep wisdom crown'd ; Though Tyro nor Mycene match her name, Nor great Alcmena (the proud boasts of Fame) Yet, thus by heaven adorn'd, by heaven's decree, She thines with fatal excellence to thee: With thee, the bowl we drain, indulge the feast, Till righteous heaven reclaim her stubborn breast. VOL. III.
What though from pole to pole resounds her name,
The fon's destruction waits the mother's fame :
For, till fhe leaves thy court, it is decreed,
Thy bowl to empty, and thy flock to bleed.
While yet he speaks, Telemachus replies :
Ev'n Nature starts, and what ye ask denies.
Thus, fhall I thus repay a mother's cares,
Who gave me life, and nurs'd my infant years? 150
While fad on foreign fhores Ulyffes treads,
Or glides a ghoft with unapparent shades;
How to Icarius in the bridal hour
Shall I, by waste undone, refund the dower?
How from my father fhould I vengeance dread?
How would my mother curfe my hated head?
And while in wrath to vengeful fiends the cries,
How from their hell would vengeful fiends arife?
Abhorr'd by all, accurs'd my name would grow,
The earth's difgrace, and human-kind my foe.
If this difpleafe, why urge ye here your stay?
Hafte from the court, ye fpoilers, hafte away:
Waste in wild riot what your land allows,
There ply the early feast, and late carouse.
But if, to honour loft, 'tis ftill decreed
For you my bowl fhall flow, my flocks shall bleed ;
Judge and affert my right, impartial Jove!
By him, and all th' immortal host above,
(A facred oath) if heaven the power supply,
Vengeance I vow, and for your wrongs ye die.
With that, two eagles from a mountain's height
By Jove's command direct their rapid flight ;
Swift they defcend, with wing to wing conjoin'd,
Stretch their broad plumes, and float upon the wind,
Above th' affembled peers they wheel on high,
175
And clang their wings, and hovering beat the fky;
With ardent eyes the rival train they threat,
And, fhrieking loud, denounce approaching Fate.
They cuff, they tear; their cheeks and neck they rend,
And from their plumes huge drops of blood defcend:
Then, failing o'er the domes and towers, they fly
Full tow'rd the east, and mount into the sky.
The wondering rivals gaze with cares oppreft,
And chilling horrors freeze in every breast.
Till, big with knowledge of approaching woes,
The prince of augurs, Halitherses, rose :
Prefcient he view'd th' aërial tracks, and drew
A fure prefage from every wing that flew.
Ye fons (he cry'd) of Ithaca, give ear,
Hear all! but chiefly you, oh rivals! hear.
Destruction fure o'er all your heads impends;
Ulyffes comes, and death his steps attends.
Nor to the great alone is death decreed ;
We and our guilty Ithaca must bleed.
Why ceafe we then the wrath of heaven to ftay? 195
Be humbled all, and lead, ye Great! the way.
For, lo! my words no fancy'd woes relate :
I speak from fcience, and the voice is fate.
When great Ulyffes fought the Phrygian fhores To shake with war proud Ilion's lofty towers, Deeds then undone my faithful tongue foretold: Heaven feal'd my words, and you thofe deeds behold.
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