"'Twere well, presumptuous Man, 'twere well for thee
"If thou wer't Eyeless too, and blind, like me:
"For the Time comes, nay, 'tis already here,
"When the young God's Solemnities appear:
"Which if thou dost not with just Rites adorn,
"Thy impious Carcass, into Pieces torn,
"Shall strew the Woods and hang on ev'ry Thorn.
"Then, then, remember what I now foretel,
"And own the blind Tiresias saw too well.
Still Pentheus scorns him, and derides his Skill,
But Time did all the Prophet's Threats fulfil.
For now through prostrate Greece young Bacchus rode,
Whilst howling Matrons celebrate the God,
All Ranks and Sexes to his Orgies ran,
To mingle in the Pomps and fill the Train.
When Pentheus thus his wicked Rage express'd;
"What Madness, Thebans, has your Mind possess'd?
"Can hollow Timbrels, can a drunken Shout,
"And the lewd Clamours of a beastly Rout,
"Thus quell your Courage? Can the weak Alarm
"Of Womens Yells those stubborn Souls disarm,
"Whom nor the Sword nor Trumpet e'er could fright,
"Nor the loud Din and Horror of a Fight?
"And you, our Sires, who left your old Abodes,
"And fix'd in foreign Earth your Country Gods;
"Will you without a Stroak your City yield,
"And poorly quit an undisputed Field?
"But you, whose Youth and Vigour should inspire
"Heroick Warmth, and kindle martial Fire,
"Whom burnish'd Arms and crested Helmets Grace,
"Not flow'ry Garlands and a painted Face;
"Remember him to whom you stand ally'd:
"The Serpent for his Well of Waters dy'd.
"He fought the Strong; do you his Courage show,
"And gain a Conquest o'er a feeble Foe.
"If