The Works of Alexander Pope (1717)/The first Book of Statius his Thebais

←

The Fable of Dryope, from the ninth Book of Ovid's Metamorphosis

The Works of Alexander Pope (1717)
by Alexander Pope

The first Book of Statius his Thebais

Part of the thirteenth Book of Homer's Odysses

→

4441725The Works of Alexander Pope (1717) — The first Book of Statius his ThebaisAlexander Pope

THE

FIRST BOOK

OF

STATIUS

HIS

THEBAIS.

Translated in the Year 1703.

The ARGUMENT.

Oedipus King of Thebes having by mistake slain his father Laius, and marry'd his mother Jocasta, put out his own eyes, and resign'd the realm to his sons, Etheocles and Polynices. Being neglected by them, he makes his prayer to the fury Tisiphone, to sow debate betwixt the brothers. They agree at last to reign singly, each a year by turns, and the first lot is obtain'd by Etheocles. Jupiter, in a council of the Gods, declares his resolution of punishing the Thebans, and Argives also, by means of a marriage betwixt Polynices and one of the daughters of Adrastus King of Argos. Juno opposes, but to no effect; and Mercury is sent on a message to the shades, to the ghost of Laius, who is to appear to Etheocles, and provoke him to break the agreement. Polynices in the mean time departs from Thebes by night, is overtaken by a form, and arrives at Argos; where he meets with Tydeus, who had fled from Calydon, having kill'd his brother. Adrastus entertains them, having receiv'd an oracle from Apollo that his daughters should be marry'd to a Boar and a Lion, which he understands to be meant of these strangers by whom the hides of those beasts were worn, and who arriv'd at the time when he kept an annual feast in honour of that God. The rise of this solemnity he relates to his guests, the loves of Phœbus and Psamathe, and the story of Choræbus. He enquires, and is made acquainted with, their descent and quality: The sacrifice is renew'd, and the book concludes with a Hymn to Apollo.

THE

FIRST BOOK

OF

STATIUS his THEBAIS.

raternal rage, the guilty Thebes alarms,
Th' alternate reign destroy'd by impious arms,
Demand our song; a sacred fury fires
My ravish'd breast, and all the Muse inspires.
O Goddess, say, shall I deduce my rhimes
From the dire nation in its early times,
Europa's rape, Agenor's stern decree,
And Cadmus searching round the spacious sea?
How with the serpent's teeth he sow'd the soil,
And reap'd an Iron harvest of his toil;
Or how from joining stones the city sprung,
While to his harp divine Amphion sung?
Or shall I Juno's hate to Thebes resound,
Whose fatal rage th' unhappy Monarch found;
The fire against the son his arrows drew,
O'er the wide fields the furious mother flew,
And while her arms her second hope contain,
Sprung from the rocks, and plung'd into the main.
But wave whate'er to Cadmus may belong,
And fix, O Muse! the barrier of thy song,
At Oedipus———from his disasters trace
The long confusions of his guilty race.
Nor yet attempt to stretch thy bolder wing,
And mighty Cæsar's conqu'ring eagles sing;
How twice he tam'd proud Ister's rapid flood,
While Dacian mountains stream'd with barb'rous blood;
Twice taught the Rhine beneath his laws to roll,
And stretch'd his empire to the frozen pole;
Or long before, with early valour strove,
In youthful arms t'assert the cause of Jove.
And thou, great heir of all thy father's fame,
Encrease of glory to the Latian name;
Oh bless thy Rome with an eternal reign,
Nor let desiring worlds intreat in vain!
What tho' the stars contract their heav'nly space,
And crowd their shining ranks to yield thee place:
Tho' all the skies, ambitious of thy sway,
Conspire to court thee from our world away;
Tho' Phœbus longs to mix his rays with thine,
And in thy glories more serenely shine;
Tho' Jove himself no less content would be,
To part his throne and share his heav'n with thee;
Yet stay, great Cæsar! and vouchsafe to reign
O'er the wide earth, and o'er the watry main,
Resign to Jove his empire of the skies,
And people heav'n with Roman Deities.
The time will come when a diviner flame
Shall warm my breast to sing of Cæsar's fame:
Meanwhile permit, that my preluding Muse.
In Theban wars an humbler theme may chuse:
Of furious hate surviving death, she sings,
A fatal throne to two contending Kings,
And fun'ral flames, that parting wide in air,
Express the discord of the souls they bear:
Of towns dispeopled, and the wand'ring ghosts
Of Kings unbury'd on the wasted coasts;
When Dirce's fountain blush'd with Grecian blood,
And Thetis, near Ismenos' swelling flood,
With dread beheld the rolling surges sweep
In heaps, his slaughter'd sons into the deep.
What hero, Clio! wilt thou first relate?
The raging Tydeus, or the Prophet's fate?
Or how with hills of slain on ev'ry side,
Hippomedon repell'd the hostile tyde?
Or how the ^[1]youth with ev'ry grace adorn'd,
Untimely fell, to be for ever mourn'd?
Then to fierce Capaneus thy verse extend,
And sing, with horror, his prodigious end.
Now wretched Oedipus, depriv'd of sight,
Led a long death in everlasting night;
But while he dwells where not a chearful ray
Can pierce the darkness, and abhors the day;
The clear, reflecting mind, presents his sin
In frightful views, and makes it day within;
Returning thoughts in endless circles roll,
And thousand furies haunt his guilty soul.
The wretch then lifted to th' unpitying skies
Those empty orbs, from whence he tore his eyes,
Whose wounds yet fresh, with bloody hands he strook,
While from his breast these dreadful accents broke.
Ye Gods that o'er the gloomy regions reign
Where guilty spirits feel eternal pain;
Thou, sable Styx! whose livid streams are roll'd
Thro' dreary coasts which I, tho' blind, behold:
Tisiphone, that oft' hast heard my pray'r,
Assist, if Oedipus deserve thy care!
If you receiv'd me from Jocasta's womb,
And nurs'd the hope of mischiefs yet to come:
If leaving Polybus, I took my way
To Cyrrha's temple on that fatal day,
When by the son the trembling father dy'd,
Where the three roads the Phocian fields divide:
If I the Sphynxe's riddles durst explain,
Taught by thy self to win the promis'd reign:
If wretched I, by baleful furies led,
With monstrous mixture stain'd my mother's bed,
For hell and thee begot an impious brood,
And with full lust those horrid joys renew'd:
Then self-condemn'd to shades of endless night,
Forc'd from these orbs the bleeding balls of sight.
Oh hear, and aid the vengeance I require,
If worthy thee, and what thou might'st inspire!
My sons their old, unhappy sire despise,
Spoil'd of his kingdom, and depriv'd of eyes;
Guideless I wander, unregarded mourn,
While these exalt their scepters o'er my urn;
These sons, ye Gods! who with flagitious pride,
Insult my darkness, and my groans deride.
Art thou a father, unregarding Jove!
And sleeps thy thunder in the realms above?
Thou Fury, then, some lading curse entail,
Which o'er their childrens children shall prevail:
Place on their heads that crown distain'd with gore,
Which these dire hands from my slain father tore;

\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}

Go, and a parent's heavy curses bear;
Break all the bonds of nature, and prepare
Their kindred souls to mutual hate and war.
Give them to dare, what I might wish to see,
Blind as I am, some glorious villany!
Soon shalt thou find, if thou but arm their hands,
Their ready guilt preventing thy commands:
Could'st thou some great, proportion'd mischief frame,
They'd prove the father from whose loins they came.
The fury heard, while on Cocytus' brink
Her snakes, unty'd, sulphureous waters drink;
But at the summons, roll'd her eyes around,
And snatch'd the starting serpents from the ground.
Not half so swiftly shoots along in air
The gliding light'ning, or descending star.
Thro' crouds of airy shades she wing'd her flight,
And dark dominions of the silent night;
Swift as she pass'd, the flitting ghosts withdrew,
And the pale spectres trembled at her view:
To th' iron gates of Tenarus she flies,
There spreads her dusky pinions to the skies.
The day beheld, and sickning at the sight,
Veil'd her fair glories in the shades of night.
Affrighted Atlas, on the distant shore,
Trembl'd, and shook the heav'ns and gods he bore,
Now from beneath Malea's airy height
Aloft she sprung, and steer'd to Thebes her flight;
With eager speed the well-known journey took,
Nor here regrets the hell she late forsook.
A hundred snakes her gloomy visage shade,
A hundred serpents guard her horrid head,
In her sunk eye-balls dreadful meteors glow,
Such rays from Phœbe's bloody circle flow,
When lab'ring with strong charms, she shoots from high
A fiery gleam, and reddens all the sky.
Blood stain'd her cheeks, and from her mouth there came
Blue steaming poisons, and a length of flame;
From ev'ry blast of her contagious breath,
Famine and drought proceed, and plagues, and death:
A robe obscene was o'er her shoulders thrown,
A dress by fates and furies worn alone:
She toss'd her meagre arms; her better hand
In waving circles whirl'd a fun'ral brand;
A serpent from her left, was seen to rear
His flaming crest, and lash the yielding air.
But when the fury took her stand on high,
Where vast Cythæron's top salutes the sky,

\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}

A hiss from all the snaky tire went round;
The dreadful signal all the rocks rebound,
And thro' th' Achaian cities send the sound.
Oete, with high Parnassus, heard the voice;
Eurota's banks remurmur'd to the noise;
Again Leucothoë shook at these alarms,
And press'd Palæmon closer in her arms.
Headlong from thence the glowing fury springs,
And o'er the Theban palace spreads her wings,
Once more invades the guilty dome, and shrouds
Its bright pavilions in a veil of clouds.

\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}

Strait with the ^[2] rage of all their race possest,
Stung to the soul, the brothers start from rest,
And all the furies wake within their breast.
Their tortur'd minds repining envy tears,
And hate, engendered by suspicious fears;
And sacred thirst of sway; and all the ties
Of nature broke; and royal perjuries;
And impotent desire to reign alone,
That scorns the dull reversion of a throne;
Each would the sweets of sov'reign rule devour,
While discord waits upon divided pow'r.
As stubborn steers by brawny plowmen broke,
And join'd reluctant to the galling yoke,
Alike disdain with servile necks to bear
Th'unwonted weight, or drag the crooked share,
But rend the reins, and bound a diff'rent way,
And all the furrows in confusion lay:
Such was the discord of the royal pair,
Whom fury drove precipitate to war.
In vain the chiefs contriv'd a specious way,
To govern Thebes by their alternate sway;
Unjust decree! while this enjoys the state,
That mourns in exile his unequal fate;
And the short monarch of a hasty year
Foresees with anguish his returning heir.
Thus did this league their impious arms restrain,
But scarce subsisted to the second reign.
Yet then no proud aspiring piles were rais'd,
Whose fretted roofs with polish'd metals blaz'd,
No labour'd columns in long order plac'd,
No Grecian stone the pompous arches grac'd;
Nor nightly bands in glitt'ring armour wait
Before the sleepless Tyrant's guarded gate:
No chargers then were wrought in burnish'd Gold,
Nor silver vases took the forming mold,
Nor gems on bowls emboss'd were seen to shine,
Blaze on the brims, and sparkle in the wine—
Say, wretched rivals! what provokes your rage?
Say to what end your impious arms engage?
Not all bright Phœbus views in early morn,
Or when his evening beams the west adorn,
When the south glows with his meridian ray,
And the cold north receives a fainter day;
For crimes like these, not all those realms suffice,
Were all those realms the guilty victor's prize!
But fortune now (the lots of empire thrown)
Decrees to proud Etheocles the crown:
What joys, oh Tyrant! swell'd thy soul that day,
When all were slaves thou could'st around survey,
Pleas'd to behold unbounded pow'r thy own,
And singly fill a fear'd and envy'd throne!
But the vile vulgar, ever discontent,
Their growing fears in secret murmurs vent;
Still prone to change, tho' still the slaves of state,
And sure the monarch whom they have, to hate;
Madly they make new Lords, then tamely bear,
And softly curse the Tyrants whom they fear.
And one of those who groan beneath the sway
Of Kings impos'd, and grudgingly obey;
(Whom envy to the great, and vulgar spight
With scandal arm'd, th' ignoble mind's delight,)
Exclaim'd—O Thebes! for thee what fates remain,
What woes attend this inauspicious reign?

\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}

↑ Parthenopæus.
↑ Gentilisque animos subit furor, seems to me a better reading than Gentilesque.

[1] Parthenopæus.

[2] Gentilisque animos subit furor, seems to me a better reading than Gentilesque.

[1]

[2]