Of all the flitting shadows of the flain,
Fate doubts which ghost shall turn to life again.
At her ftrong bidding (fuch is her command)
Armies at once had left the Stygian strand;
Hell's multitudes had waited on her charms,
And legions of the dead had ris'n to arms.
Among the dreadful carnage ftrew'd around,
One, for her purpose fit, at length the found;
In his pale jaws a rusty hook she hung,
And dragg'd the wretched lifeless load along.
Anon, beneath a craggy cliff she staid,
And in a dreary delve her burden laid;
There evermore the wicked witch delights
To do her deeds accurs'd, and practise hellish rites.
Low as the realms where Stygian Jove is crown'd,
Subfides the gloomy vale within the ground;
A downward grove, that never knew to rife,
Or fhoot its leafy honours to the skies,
From hanging rocks declines its drooping head,
And covers in the cave with dreadful shade;
Within difmay, and fear, and darkness dwell,
And filth obfcene befmears the baleful cell.
There, lafting night no beamy dawning knows,
No light but fuch as magic flames disclose;
Heavy, as in Tænarian caverns, there
In dull stagnation fleeps the lazy air.
There meet the boundaries of life and death,
The borders of our world, and that beneath;
Thither the rulers of th' infernal court
Permit their airy vaffals to refort:
Thence with like ease the forcerefs could tell,
As if descending down, the deeds of hell.
And now the for the folemn task prepares,
A mantle patch'd with various threads the wears,
And binds, with twining snakes, her wilder hairs.
All pale, for dread, the daftard youth she spy'd, 1010.
Heartless his mates stood quivering by his fide.
Be bold (the cries) difmifs this abject fear;
Living and human shall the form appear,
And breathe no founds but what ev'n you may hear.
How had your vile, your coward fouls been quell'd,
Had you the livid Stygian lakes beheld;
Heard the loud floods of rolling fulphur roar,
And burst in thunder on the burning fhore?
Had you survey'd yon prison-house of woe,
And giants bound in adamant below?
Seen the vaft dog with curling vipers fwell,
Heard fcreaming Furies, at my coming, yell,
Double their rage, and add new pains to hell?
This faid, fhe runs the mangled carcafe o'er, And wipes from every wound the crufty gore; Now with hot blood the frozen breaft fhe warms, And with ftrong lunar dews confirms her charms. Anon fhe mingles every monftrous birth, Which nature, wayward and perverfe, brings forth. Nor entrails of the spotted Lynx fhe lacks, Nor bony joints from fell Hyæna's backs; Nor deer's hot marrow, rich with fnaky food; Nor foam of raging dogs that fly the flood. Her ftore the tardy Remora fupplies,
With ftones from eagles warm, and dragons eyes;
Snakes that on pinions cut their airy way,
And nimbly o'er Arabian deferts prey;
The viper bred in Erythræan freams,
To guard in coftly fhells the growing gems;
The flough by Libya's horned ferpent caft,
With ashes by the dying Phoenix plac'd'
On odorous altars in the fragrant east.
To these fhe joins dire drugs without a name,
A thousand poisons never known to fame;
Herbs o'er whofe leaves the hag her spells had fung,
And wet with curfed fpittle as they fprung;
With every other mifchief most abhorr'd,
Which hell, or worfe Erictho, could afford.
At length, in murmurs hoarfe her voice was heard,
Her voice, beyond all plants, all magic fear'd,
And by the loweft Stygian gods rever'd.
Her gabbling tongue a muttering tone confounds,
Difcordant, and unlike to human founds:
It feem'd, of dogs the bark, of wolves the howl,
The doleful skreeching of the midnight owl;
The hifs of fnakes, the hungry lion's roar,,
The bound of billows beating on the shore;
The groan of winds amongst the leafy wood,
And burft of thunder from the rending cloud: 1059
'Twas thefe, all thefe in one. At length fhe breaks
Thus into magic verfe, and thus the gods bespeaks.
Ye Furies! and thou black accurfed hell!
Ye woes! in which the damn'd for ever dwell;
Chaos, the world, and form's eternal foe!.
And thou fole arbiter of all below,
Pluto! whom ruthlefs fates a god ordain,
And doom to immortality of pain;
Ye fair Elysian manfions of the blest,
Where no Theffalian charmer hopes to reft;
Styx and Perfephone, compell'd to fly
Thy fruitful mother, and the chearful sky!
Third Hecate! by whom my whispers breathe
My fecret purpose to the fhades beneath;
Thou greedy dog, who at th' infernal gate,
In everlasting hunger, ftill doft wait!
And thou old Charon, horrible and hoar!
For ever labouring back from shore to shore:
Who murmuring doft in wearinefs complain,
That I fo oft demand thy dead again;
Hear, all ye powers! If e'er your hell rejoice,
In the lov'd horrors of this impious voice;
If ftill with human flefh I have been fed,
If pregnant mothers have, to please you, bled;
If from the womb these ruthlefs hands have torn
Infants, mature, and ftruggling to be born;
Hear and obey! nor do I afk a ghoft,
Long fince receiv'd upon your Stygian coaft;
But one that, new to death, for entrance waits,
And loiters yet before your gloomy gates.
Let the pale fhade these herbs, these numbers hear,
And in his well-known warlike form appear.
Here let him ftand, before his leader's fon,
And fay what dire events are drawing on :
If blood be your delight, let this be done.
Foaming she spoke: then rear'd her hateful head,
And hard at hand beheld th' attending shade.
Too well the trembling sprite the carcafe knew,
And fear'd to enter into life anew;
Fain from those mangled limbs it would have run,
And, lothing, ftrove that house of pain to fhun. 1100
Ah! wretch! to whom the cruel fates deny
That privilege of human kind, to die!
Wroth was the hag at lingering death's delay,
And wonder'd hell could dare to disobey;
With curling fnakes the fenfelefs trunk fhe beats, 1105
And curfes dire, at every lafh, repeats;
With magic numbers cleaves the groaning ground,
And, thus, barks downwards to th' aby's profound: -
Ye fiends hell-born, ye fifters of defpair!
Thus? is it thus my will becomes your care?
Still fleep thofe whips within your idle hands,
Nor drive the loitering ghost this voice demands?
But mark me well! my charms, in Fate's defpite,
Shall drag you forth, ye Stygian dogs, to light;
Through vaults and tombs, where now fecure you roam
My vengeance shall purfue, and chace you home.
And thou, oh! Hecate, that dar'ft to rife,
Various and alter'd to immortal eyes,
No more fhalt veil thy horrors in disguise;
Still in thy form accurfed fhalt thou dwell,
Nor change the face that nature made for hell.
Each mystery beneath I will display,
And Stygian loves fhall ftand confefs'd to day.
Thee, Proferpine! thy fatal feaft I'll fhow,
What leagues detain thee in the realms below,
And why thy once-fond mother loaths thee now.
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