Chapter XI: Section IV: On the Mythology of Hesiod (7)

Or as Alcmena, from Electryon born,
The guardian of his people, her lov’d home
And natal soil abandoning, to Thebes
Came with Amphitryon: with the brave in war.
She all the gentle race of womankind
[252]In height surpass’d and beauty: nor with her
Might one in prudence vie, of all who sprang
From mortal fair-ones, blending in embrace
With mortal men. Both from her tressed head,
And [253]from the darkening lashes of her eyes,
She breathed enamouring odour like the breath
Of balmy Venus: passing fair she was,
Yet not the less her consort with heart-love
Revered she; so had never woman loved.
Though he her noble sire by violent strength
Had slain, amid [254]those herds, the cause of strife,
Madden’d to sudden rage: his native soil
He left, and thence to the Cadmean state,
Shield-bearing tribe, came supplicant: and there
Dwelt with his modest spouse; yet from the joys
Of love estranged: for he might not ascend
The couch of her, the beautiful of feet,
Till for the slaughter of her brethren brave,
His arm had wreak’d revenge; and burn’d with fire
The guilty cities of those warlike men
Taphians and Teloboans. This the task
Assign’d: the gods on high that solemn vow
Had witness’d: of their anger visitant
In fear he stood; and speeded in all haste
T’ achieve the mighty feat, imposed by Heaven.
Him the Bœotians, gorers of the steed,
Who coveting the war-shout and the shock
Of battle o’er the buckler breathe aloft
Their open valour: him the Locrian race
Close-combating; and of undaunted soul,
The Phocians follow’d: towering in the van
Amphitryon gallant shone: and in his host
Gloried. But other counsel secret wove
Within his breast the sire of gods and men:
That both to gods and to th’ inventive race
Of man a great deliverer might arise
Sprung from his loins, of plague-repelling fame.
Deep-framing in his inmost soul deceit,
He through the nightly darkness took his way
From high Olympus, glowing with the love
Of her, the fair-one of the graceful zone.
Swift to the Typhaonian mount he pass’d:
Thence drew nigh Phycium’s lofty ridge: sublime
There sitting, the wise counsellor of heaven
Revolved a work divine. That self-same night
He sought the couch of her, who stately treads
With long-paced step; and melting in her arms
Took there his fill of love. That self-same night
The host-arousing chief, the mighty deed
Perform’d, in glory to his home returned:
Nor to the vassals and the shepherd hinds
His footstep bent, before he climb’d the couch
Of his Alcmena: such inflaming love
Seiz’d in the deep recesses of his heart
The chief of thousands. And as he, that scarce
Escapes, and yet escapes, from grievous plague
Or the hard-fettering chain, flies free away
Joyful,—so struggling through that arduous toil
With pain accomplish’d, wishful, eager, traced
The prince his homeward way. The live-long night
He with the modest partner of his bed
Embracing lay, and revell’d in delight
The bounteous bliss of love’s all-charming queen.
Thus by a god and by the first of men
Alike subdued to love, Alcmena gave
Twin-brethren birth, within the seven-fold gates
Of Thebes: yet brethren though they were, unlike
Their natures: this of weaker strain; but that
Far more of man; valorous and stern and strong.
Him, Hercules, conceived she from th’ embrace
Of the cloud-darkener: to th’ Alcæan chief,
Shaker of spears, gave Iphiclus: a race
Distinct: nor wonder: this of mortal man,
That of imperial Jove. The same who slew
The lofty-minded Cygnus, child of Mars.
For in the grove of the far-darting god
He found him: and insatiable of war
His father Mars beside. Both bright in arms,
Bright as the sheen of burning flame, they stood
On their high chariot; and the horses fleet
Trampled the ground with rending hoofs: around
In parted circle smoked the cloudy dust,
Up-dash’d beneath the trampling hoofs, and cars
Of complicated frame. The well-framed cars
Rattled aloud: loud clash’d the wheels: while rapt
In their full speed the horses flew. Rejoiced
The noble Cygnus; for the hope was his,
Jove’s warlike offspring and his charioteer
To slay, and strip them of their gorgeous mail.
But to his vows the Prophet-god of day
Turn’d a deaf ear: for he himself set on
Th’ assault of Hercules. Now all the grove,
And Phœbus’ altar, flash’d with glimmering arms
Of that tremendous god: himself blazed light,
And darted radiance from his eye-balls glared
As it were flame. But who of mortal mould
Had e’er endured in daring opposite
To rush before him, save but Hercules,
And Ioläus, an illustrious name?
For mighty strength was theirs: and arms that stretch’d
From their broad shoulders unapproachable
In valorous force, above their nervous frames:
He therefore thus bespoke his charioteer:
“Oh hero Ioläus! dearest far
To me of all the race of mortal men;
I deem it sure that ’gainst the blest of Heaven
Amphitryon sinn’d, when to the fair-wall’d Thebes
He came, forsaking Tirynth’s well-built walls,
Electryon midst the strife of wide-brow’d herds
Slain by his hand: to Creon suppliant came,
And her of flowing robe, Henioche:
Who straight embraced, and all of needful aid
Lent hospitable, as to suppliant due:
And more for this, e’en from the heart they gave
All honour and observance. So he lived,
Exulting in his graceful-ankled spouse
Alcmena. When the rapid year roll’d round,
We, far unlike in stature and in soul,
Were born, thy sire and I: him Jove bereaved
Of wisdom; who from his parental home
Went forth, and to the fell Eurystheus bore
His homage. Wretch! for he most sure bewail’d
In after-time that grievous fault, a deed
Irrevocable. On myself has Fate
Laid heavy labours. But, oh friend! oh now
Quick snatch the purple reins of these my steeds
Rapid of hoof: the manly courage rouse
Within thee: now with strong unerring grasp
Guide the swift chariot’s whirl, and wind the steeds
Rapid of hoof: fear nought the dismal yell
Of mortal-slayer Mars, whilst to and fro
He ranges fierce Apollo’s hallow’d grove
With frenzying shout: for, be he as he may
War-mighty, he of war shall take his fill.”
Then answer’d Ioläus: “Oh revered!
Doubtless the father of the gods and men
Thy head delights to honour; and the god
Who keeps [255]the wall of Thebes and guards her towers,
[256]Bull-visaged Neptune: so be sure they give
Unto thy hand this mortal huge and strong,
That from the conflict thou mayst bear away
High glory. But now haste—in warlike mail
Dress now thy limbs, that, rapidly as thought
Mingling the shock of cars, we may be join’d
In battle. He th’ undaunted son of Jove
Shall strike not with his terrors, nor yet me
Iphiclides: but swiftly, as I deem,
Shall he to flight betake him, from the race
Of brave Alcæus: who now pressing nigh
Gain on their foes and languish for the shout
Of closing combat; to their eager ear
More grateful than the banquet’s revelry.”
He said: and Hercules smiled stern his joy
Elate of thought: for he had spoken words
Most welcome. Then with winged accents thus:
“Jove-foster’d hero! it is e’en at hand,
The battle’s rough encounter: thou, as erst,
In martial prudence firm, aright, aleft,
With vantage of the fray, unerring guide
Arion huge, the sable-maned, and me
Aid in the doubtful contest, as thou mayst.”
Thus having said, he sheathed his legs in greaves
Of mountain brass, resplendent-white: famed gift
Of Vulcan: o’er his breast he fitted close
The corselet, variegated, beautiful,
Of shining gold; this Jove-born Pallas gave,
When first he rush’d to meet the mingling groans
Of battle. Then the mighty man athwart
His shoulder slung the sword, whose edge repels
Th’ approach of mortal harms: and clasp’d around
His bosom, and reclining o’er his back,
He cast the hollow quiver. Lurk’d therein
Full many arrows: shuddering horror they
Inflicted, and the agony of death
Sudden, that chokes the suffocated voice:
The points were barb’d with death, and bitter steep’d
In human tears: burnish’d the lengthening shafts:
And they were feather’d from the tawny plume
Of eagles. Now he grasp’d the solid spear
Sharpen’d with brass: and on his brows of strength
Placed the forged helm, high-wrought in adamant,
That cased the temples round, and fenced the head
Of Hercules: the man of heavenly birth.
Then with his hands he raised THE SHIELD, of disk
Diversified: might none with missile aim
Pierce, nor th’ impenetrable substance rive
Shattering: a wondrous frame: since all throughout
Bright with enamel, and with ivory,
And [257]mingled metal; and with ruddy gold
Refulgent, and with azure plates inlaid.
The scaly terror of a dragon coil’d
Full in the central field; unspeakable;
With eyes oblique retorted, that aslant
Shot gleaming flame: his hollow jaw was fill’d
Dispersedly with jagged fangs of white,
Grim, unapproachable. And next above
The dragon’s forehead fell, stern Strife in air
Hung hovering, and array’d the war of men:
Haggard; whose aspect from all mortals reft
All mind and soul; whoe’er in brunt of arms
Should match their strength, and face the son of Jove.
Below this earth their spirits to th’ abyss
Descend: and through the flesh that wastes away
Beneath the parching sun, their whitening bones
Start forth, and moulder in the sable dust.
[258]Pursuit was there, and fiercely rallying Flight,
Tumult and Terror: burning Carnage glow’d:
Wild Discord madden’d there, and frantic Rout
Ranged to and fro. A deathful Destiny
There grasp’d a living man, that bled afresh
From recent wound: another, yet unharm’d,
Dragg’d furious; and a third, already dead,
Trail’d by the feet amid the throng of war:
And o’er her shoulders was a garment thrown
Dabbled in human blood: and in her look
Was horror: and a deep funereal cry
Broke from her lips. There indescribable
Twelve serpent heads rose dreadful: and with fear
Froze all, who drew on earth the breath of life,
Whoe’er should match their strength in brunt of arms,
And face the son of Jove: and oft as he
Moved to the battle, from their clashing fangs
A sound was heard. Such miracles display’d
The buckler’s field, with living blazonry
Resplendent: and those fearful snakes were streak’d
O’er their cærulean backs with streaks of jet:
And their jaws blacken’d with a jetty dye.
Wild from the forest, [259]herds of boars were there,
And lions, mutual-glaring; and in wrath
Leap’d on each other; and by troops they drove
Their onset: nor yet these nor those recoil’d,
Nor quaked in fear. Of both the backs uprose
Bristling with anger: for a lion huge
Lay stretched amidst them, and two boars beside
Lifeless: the sable blood down-dropping ooz’d
Into the ground. So these with bowed backs
Lay dead beneath the terrible lions: they,
For this the more incensed, both savage boars
And tawny lions, chafing sprang to war.
There too [260]the battle of the Lapithæ
Was wrought; the spear-arm’d warriors: Cæneus king,
Hopleus, Phalérus, and Pirithous,
And Dryas, and Exadius: Prolochus,
Mopsus of Titaressa, Ampyx’ son,
A branch of Mars, and Theseus like a god:
Son of Ægéus: silver were their limbs,
Their armour golden: and to them opposed
The Centaur band stood thronging: Asbolus,
Prophet of birds; Petræus huge of height;
Arctus, and Urius, and of raven locks
Mimas; the two Peucidæ, Dryalus,
And Perimedes: all of silver frame,
And grasping golden pine-trees in their hands.
At once they onset made: in very life
They rush’d, and hand to hand tumultuous closed
With pines and clashing spears. There fleet of hoof
The steeds were standing of stern-visaged Mars
In gold: and he himself, tearer of spoils,
Life-waster, purpled all with dropping blood,
As one who slew the living and despoil’d,
Loud-shouting to the warrior-infantry
There vaulted on his chariot. Him beside
Stood Fear and Consternation: high their hearts
Panted, all eager for the war of men.
There too Minerva rose, leader of hosts,
Resembling Pallas when she would array
The marshall’d battle. In her grasp the spear,
And on her brows a golden helm: athwart
Her shoulders thrown her ægis. Went she forth
In this array to meet the dreadful shout
Of war. And there a tuneful choir appear’d
Of heaven’s immortals: in the midst the son
Of Jove and of Latona sweetly rang
Upon his golden harp. Th’ Olympian mount,
Dwelling of gods, thrill’d back the broken sound.
And there were seen th’ assembly of the gods
Listening, encircled with their blaze of glory:
And in sweet contest with Apollo there
The virgins of Pieria raised the strain
Preluding; and they seem’d as though they sang
With clear sonorous voice. And there appear’d
A sheltering haven from the untamed rage
Of ocean. It was wrought of tin refined,
And rounded by the chisel: and it seem’d
Like to the dashing wave: and in the midst
Full many dolphins chased the fry, and show’d
As though they swam the waters, to and fro
Darting tumultuous. Two of silver scale,
Panting above the wave, the fishes mute
Gorged, that beneath them shook their quivering fins
In brass: but on the crag a fisher sate
Observant: in his grasp he held a net,
Like one that, poising, rises to the throw.
There was the horseman, fair-hair’d Danaë’s son,
Perseus: nor yet the buckler with his feet
Touch’d, nor yet distant hover’d: strange to think:
For nowhere on the surface of the shield
He rested: so the crippled artist-god
Illustrious framed him with his hands in gold.
Bound to his feet were sandals wing’d: a sword
Of brass with hilt of sable ebony
Hung round him from the shoulders by a thong:
Swift e’en as thought he flew. The visage grim
Of monstrous Gorgon all his back o’erspread:
And wrought in silver, wondrous to behold,
A veil was drawn around it, whence in gold
Hung glittering fringes: and the dreadful helm
Of Pluto clasp’d the temples of the prince,
Shedding a night of darkness. Thus outstretch’d
In air, he seem’d like one to trembling flight
Betaken. Close behind the Gorgons twain
Of nameless terror unapproachable
Came rushing: eagerly they stretch’d their arms
To seize him: from the pallid adamant,
Audibly as they rush’d, the clattering shield
Clank’d with a sharp shrill sound. Two grisly snakes
Hung from their girdles, and with forking tongues
Lick’d their inflected jaws; and violent gnash’d
Their fangs fell glaring: from around their heads
Those Gorgons grim a flickering horror cast
Through the wide air. Above them warrior men
Waged battle, grasping weapons in their hands.
[261]Some from their city and their sires repell’d
Destruction: others hasten’d to destroy:
And many press’d the plain, but more still held
The combat. On the strong-constructed towers
Stood women, shrieking shrill, and rent their cheeks
In very life, by Vulcan’s glorious craft.
The elders hoar with age assembled stood
Without the gates, and to the blessed gods
Their hands uplifted, for their fighting sons
Fear-stricken. These again the combat held.
Behind them stood the Fates, of aspect black,
Grim, slaughter-breathing, stern, insatiable,
Gnashing their white fangs; and fierce conflict held
For those who fell. Each eager-thirsting sought
To quaff the sable blood. Whom first they snatch’d
Prostrate, or staggering with the fresh-made wound,
On him they struck their talons huge: the soul
Fled down th’ abyss, the horror-freezing gulf
Of Tartarus. They, glutted to the heart
With human gore, behind them cast the corse:
And back with hurrying rage they turn’d to seek
The throng of battle. And hard by there stood
Clotho and Lachesis; and Atropos,
Somewhat in years inferior: nor was she
A mighty goddess: yet those other Fates
Transcending, and in birth the elder far.
And all around one man in cruel strife
Were join’d: and on each other turn’d in wrath
Their glowing eyes: and mingling desperate hands
And talons mutual strove. [262]And near to them
Stood Misery: wan, ghastly, worn with woe:
Arid, and swoln of knees; with hunger’s pains
Faint-falling: from her lean hands long the nails
Out-grew: an ichor from her nostrils flow’d:
Blood from her cheeks distill’d to earth: with teeth
All wide disclosed in grinning agony
She stood: a cloud of dust her shoulders spread,
And her eyes ran with tears. But next arose
[263]A well-tower’d city, by seven golden gates
Enclosed, that fitted to their lintels hung:
There men in dances and in festive joys
Held revelry. Some on the smooth-wheel’d car
A virgin bride conducted: then burst forth
Aloud the marriage-song: and far and wide
Long splendours flash’d from many a quivering torch
Borne in the hands of slaves. Gay-blooming girls
Preceded, and the dancers follow’d blithe:
These with shrill pipe indenting the soft lip
Breathed melody, while broken echoes thrill’d
Around them: to the lyre with flying touch
Those led the love-enkindling dance. A group
Of youths was elsewhere imaged to the flute
Disporting: some in dances and in song,
In laughter others. To the minstrel’s flute
So pass’d they on; and the whole city seem’d
As fill’d with pomps, with dances, and with feasts.
Others again, without the city walls,
[264]Vaulted on steeds and madden’d for the goal.
[265]Others as husbandmen appear’d, and broke
With coulter the rich glebe, and gather’d up
Their tunics neatly girded. Next arose
A field thick-set with depth of corn: where some
With sickle reap’d the stalks, their speary heads
Bent, as weigh’d down with pods of swelling grain,
The fruits of Ceres. Others into bands
Gather’d, and threw upon the threshing-floor
The sheaves. And some again hard by were seen
Holding the vine-sickle, who clusters cut
From the ripe vines; which from the vintagers
Others in frails received, or bore away,
[266]In baskets thus up-piled, the cluster’d grapes,
Or black or pearly-white, cut from deep ranks
Of spreading vines, whose tendrils curling twined
In silver, heavy-foliaged: near them rose
The ranks of vines, by Vulcan’s curious craft
Figured in gold. The vines leaf-shaking curl’d
Round silver props. They therefore on their way
Pass’d jocund to one minstrel’s flageolet,
Burthen’d with grapes that blacken’d in the sun.
Some also trod the wine-press, and some quaff’d
The foaming must. But in another part
Were men who wrestled, or in gymnic fight
Wielded the cæstus. Elsewhere men of chase
Were taking the fleet hares. Two keen-tooth’d dogs
Bounded beside: these ardent in pursuit,
Those with like ardour doubling on their flight.
Next them were horsemen, who sore effort made
To win the prize of contest and hard toil.
High o’er the well-compacted chariots [267]hung
The charioteers: the rapid horses loosed
At their full stretch, and shook the floating reins.
Rebounding from the ground with many a shock
Flew clattering the firm cars, and creak’d aloud
The naves of the round wheels. They therefore toil’d
Endless: nor conquest yet at any time
Achiev’d they, but a doubtful strife maintain’d.
In the mid-course the prize, a tripod huge,
Was placed in open sight; and it was carved
In gold: the skilful Vulcan’s glorious craft.
Rounding the uttermost verge [268]the ocean flow’d
As in full swell of waters: and the shield
All-variegated with whole circle bound.
Swans of high-hovering wing there clamour’d shrill,
And many skimm’d the breasted surge: and nigh
Fishes were tossing in tumultuous leaps.
Sight marvellous e’en to thundering Jove: whose will
Bade Vulcan frame the buckler; vast and strong.
This fitting to his grasp the strong-nerved son
Of Jupiter now shook with ease: and swift
As from his father’s ægis-wielding arm
The bolted lightning darts, he vaulted sheer
Above the harness’d chariot at a bound
Into the seat: the hardy charioteer
Stood o’er the steeds from high, and guided strong
The crooked car. Now near to them approach’d
Pallas, the blue-eyed goddess, and address’d
These winged words in animating voice:
[269]“Race of the far-famed Lyngeus! both all-hail!
Now verily the ruler of the Blest,
E’en Jove, doth give you strength to spoil of life
Cygnus your foe, and strip his gorgeous arms.
But I will breathe a word within thine ear
In counsel, oh most mighty midst the strong!
Now soon as e’er from Cygnus thou hast reft
The sweets of life, there leave him: on that spot,
Him and his armour: but th’ approach of Mars,
Slayer of mortals, watch with wary eye:
And where thy glance discerns a part exposed,
Defenceless of the well-wrought buckler, strike!
With thy sharp point there wound him, and recede:
For know, thou art not fated to despoil
“The steeds and glorious armour of a god.”
Thus having said, the goddess all-divine,
Aye holding in her everlasting hands
Conquest and glory, rose into the car
Impetuous: to the war-steeds shouted fierce
The noble Ioläus: from the shout
They starting snatch’d the flying car, and hid
With dusty cloud the plain: for she herself,
The goddess azure-eyed, sent into them
Wild courage, clashing on her brandish’d shield:
Earth groan’d around. That moment with like pace
E’en as a flame or tempest came they on,
Cygnus the tamer of the steed, and Mars
Unsated with the roar of war. And now
The coursers mid-way met, and face to face
Neigh’d shrill: the broken echoes rang around.
Then him the first stern Hercules bespake.
“Oh soft of nature! why dost thou obstruct
The rapid steeds of men, who toils have proved
And hardships? Outward turn thy burnish’d car:
Pass outward from the track and yield the way:
For I to Trachys ride, of obstacle
Impatient: to the royal Ceyx: he
O’er Trachys rules in venerable power,
As needs not thee be told, who hast to wife
His blue-eyed daughter Themisthonöe:
Soft-one! for not from thee shall Mars himself
Inhibit death, if truly hand to hand
We wage the battle: and e’en this I say
That elsewhere, heretofore, himself has proved
My mighty spear: when on the sandy beach
Of Pylos ardour irrepressible
Of combat seized him, and to me opposed
He stood: but thrice, when stricken by my lance,
Earth propp’d his fall, and thrice his targe was cleft:
The fourth time urging on my utmost force
His ample shield I shattering rived, his thigh
Transpierced, and headlong in the dust he fell
Beneath my rushing spear: so there the weight
Of shame upon him fell midst those of heaven,
His gory trophies leaving to these hands.”
So said he: but in no wise to obey
Enter’d the thought of Cygnus the spear-skill’d:
Nor rein’d he back the chariot-whirling steeds.
Then truly from their close-compacted cars
Instant as thought they leap’d to earth: the son
Of kingly Mars, the son of mighty Jove.
Aside, though not remote, the charioteers
The coursers drove of flowing manes: but then
Beneath the trampling sound of rushing feet
The broad earth sounded hollow: and [270]as rocks
From some high mountain-top precipitate
Leap with a bound, and o’er each other whirl’d
Shock in the dizzying fall: and many an oak
Of lofty branch, pine-tree and poplar deep
Of root are crash’d beneath them, as their course
Rapidly rolls, till now they touch the plain;
So met these foes encountering, and so burst
Their mighty clamour. Echoing loud throughout
The city of the Myrmidons gave back
Their lifted voices, and Iolchos famed,
And Arne, and Anthea’s grass-girt walls,
And Helice. Thus with amazing shout
They join’d in battle: all-considering Jove
Then greatly thunder’d: from the clouds of heaven
[271]He cast forth dews of blood, and signal thus
Of onset gave to his high-daring son.
[272]As in the mountain thickets the wild boar,
Grim to behold, and arm’d with jutting fangs,
Now with his hunters meditates in wrath
The conflict, whetting his white tusks aslant:
Foam drops around his churning jaws; his eyes
Show like to glimmering fires, and o’er his neck
And roughen’d back he raises up erect
The starting bristles, from the chariot whirl’d
By steeds of war such leap’d the son of Jove.
’Twas in that season when, on some green bough
High-perch’d, the dusky-wing’d cicada first
Shrill chants to man a summer note; his drink,
His balmy food, the vegetative dew:
The livelong day from early dawn he pours
His voice, what time the sun’s exhaustive heat
Fierce dries the frame: ’twas in that season when
The bristly ears of millet spring with grain
Which they in summer sow: when the crude grape
Faint reddens on the vine, which Bacchus gave
The joy or anguish of the race of men;—
E’en in that season join’d the war; and vast
The battle’s tumult rose into the heaven.
[273]As two grim lions for a roebuck slain
Wroth in contention rush, and them betwixt
The sound of roaring and of clashing teeth
Ariseth; or [274]as vultures, curved of beak,
Crooked of talon, on a steepy rock
Contest loud-screaming; if perchance below
Some mountain-pastur’d goat or forest-stag
Sleek press the plain; whom far the hunter youth
Pierced with fleet arrow from the bow-string shrill
Dismiss’d, and elsewhere wander’d, of the spot
Unknowing: they with keenest heed the prize
Mark, and in swooping rage each other tear
With bitterest conflict: so vociferous rush’d
The warriors on each other. Cygnus, then,
Aiming to slay the son of Jupiter
Unmatch’d in strength, against the buckler struck
His brazen lance, but through the metal plate
Broke not; the present of a god preserved.
On th’ other side he of Amphitryon named,
Strong Hercules, between the helm and shield
Drove his long spear; and underneath the chin
Through the bare neck smote violent and swift.
The murderous ashen beam at once the nerves
Twain of the neck cut sheer; for all the man
Drop’d, and his force went from him: down he fell
Headlong: [275]as falls a thunder-blasted oak,
Or sky-capt rock, riven by the lightning shaft
Of Jove, in smouldering smoke is hurl’d from high,
So fell he: and his brass-emblazon’d mail
Clatter’d around him. Jove’s firm-hearted son
Then left the corse, abandon’d where it lay:
But wary watch’d the mortal-slayer god
Approach, and view’d him o’er with terrible eyes
Stern-lowering. [276]As a lion, who has fall’n
Perchance on some stray beast, with griping claws
Intent, strips down the lacerated hide;
Drains instantaneous the sweet life, and gluts
E’en to the fill his gloomy heart with blood;
Green-eyed he glares in fierceness; with his tail
Lashes his shoulders and his swelling sides,
And with his feet tears up the ground; not one
Might dare to look upon him, nor advance
Nigh, with desire of conflict: such in truth
The war-insatiate Hercules to Mars
Stood in array, and gather’d in his soul
Prompt courage. But the other near approach’d,
Anguish’d at heart; and both encountering rush’d
With cries of battle. As when from high ridge
Of some hill-top abrupt, tumbles a crag
Precipitous, and sheer, a giddy space,
Bounds in a whirl and rolls impetuous down:
Shrill rings the vehement crash, till some steep clift
Obstructs: to this the mass is borne along;
This wedges it immoveable: e’en so
Destroyer Mars, bowing the chariot, rush’d,
Yelling vociferous with a shout: e’en so,
As utterance prompt, met Hercules the shock
And firm sustain’d. But Jove-born Pallas came
With darkening shield uplifted, and to Mars
Stood interposed: and scowling with her eyes
Tremendous, thus address’d her winged words:
“Mars! hold thy furious valour: stay those hands
In prowess inaccessible: for know
It is not lawful for thee to divest
Slain Hercules of these his gorgeous arms,
Bold-hearted son of Jove: but come; rest thou
From battle, nor oppose thyself to me.”
She said: nor yet persuaded aught the soul
Of Mars, the mighty of heart. With a great shout
He, brandishing his weapon like a flame,
Sprang rapid upon Hercules, in haste
To slay; and, for his slaughter’d son incensed,
With violent effort hurl’d his brazen spear
’Gainst the capacious targe. The blue-eyed maid
[277]Stoop’d from the chariot, and the javelin’s force
Turn’d wide. Sore torment seiz’d the breast of Mars:
He bared his keen-edged falchion, and at once
Rush’d on the dauntless Hercules: but he,
The war-insatiate, as the God approach’d,
Beneath the well-wrought shield the thigh exposed
Wounded with all his strength, and thrusting rived
The shield’s large disk, and cleft it with his lance,
And in the middle-way threw him to earth
Prostrate. But Fear and Consternation swift
Urged nigh his well-wheel’d chariot: from the face
Of broad-track’d earth they raised him on the car
Variously framed: thence lash’d with scourge the steeds,
And bounding up the vast Olympus flew.
But now Alcmena’s son and his compeer,
The glorious Ioläus, having stripp’d
From Cygnus’ shoulders the fair armour’s spoil,
Retraced their way direct, and instant reach’d
The city Trachys with their fleet-hoof’d steeds:
While pass’d the goddess of the azure eyes
To great Olympus, and her father’s towers.
But Ceyx o’er the corse of Cygnus raised
A tomb. Innumerable people graced
His obsequies: both they who dwelt hard by
The city of the illustrious king, and they
Of Anthe, of Iolchos wide-renown’d,
Of Arne, of the Myrmidonian towers,
And Helice. So gather’d there around
A numerous people: honouring duteous thus
Ceyx, beloved of the blessed gods.
But [278]the huge mount and monumental stone
Anaurus, foaming high with wintry rains,
Swept from the sight away: Apollo this
Commanded: for that Cygnus ambush’d spoil’d
In violence the Delphic hecatombs.

FOOTNOTES

[252] _In height surpass’d._] Aristotle observes that persons of small stature may be elegantly and justly formed, but cannot be styled beautiful, Ethics, iv. 7. Xenophon in his Cyropædia, ii. 5, describes the beautiful Panthea as “of surpassing height and vigour.” Theocritus mentions a fulness of form as equally characteristic of beauty:

So bloom’d the charming Helen in our eyes
With full voluptuous limbs and towering size:
In shape, in height, in stately presence fair,
Straight as a furrow gliding from the share:
A cypress of the gardens, spiring high,
A courser in the cars of Thessaly.

Idyl, xviii.

It is remarkable that Chaucer appears to glance at this comparison:

Winsing she was, as is a jollie colt,
Long as a maste and upright as a bolt.

_The Miller’s Tale._

[253]

_From the darkening lashes of her eyes_
_She breathed enamouring odour._]

I am satisfied that this is to be taken in a literal, not in a metaphysical or poetic sense. Nearly all the Greek female epithets had a reference to some artificial mode of heightening the personal allurements: as _rosy-fingered_; _rosy-elbowed_: I think κυανεαων, _black_, is an epithet of the same cast: and alludes to the darkening of the eye-lid by the rim drawn round it with a needle dipped in antimonial oil. “The eye-lashes breathing of Venus,” has a palpable connexion with this. Athenæus, xv. describes the several unguents for the hair, breast, and arms, which were in use among the Greeks, as impregnated with the odour of rose, myrtle, or crocus. The oily dye employed by the women to blacken their eye-brows and eye-lashes was doubtless perfumed in the same manner. Virgil probably had in his mind the perfumed hair of a Roman lady, when he described the tresses of Venus breathing ambrosia, Æn. i. 402:

She spoke and turn’d: her neck averted shed
A light that glow’d ‘celestial rosy red:’
The locks that loosen’d from her temples flew
Breathing heaven’s odours, dropp’d ambrosial dew.

[254] _Those herds, the cause of strife._] The story commonly runs, that the Taphians, and Teloboans, a lawless and piratical people, had made an inroad into the territory of Argos, and carried off Electryon’s herds: that in the pursuit a battle took place, and the robbers killed the brothers of Alcmena: and Amphitryon himself accidentally killed Electryon. But it should appear from Hesiod that he killed him by design on some provocation or dispute.

[255] _The wall of Thebes._] Noah was directed in express terms to build Thiba, an ark: it is the very word made use of by the sacred writer. Many colonies that went abroad styled themselves Thebeans, in reference to the ark: as the memory of the deluge was held very sacred. Hence there occur many cities of the name of Theba, not in Ægypt only and Bœotia, but in Cilicia, Ionia, Attica, &c. It was sometimes expressed Thiba; a town of which name was in Pontus: it is called Thibis by Pliny; and he mentions a notion which prevailed, that the people of this place could not sink in water. BRYANT.

[256] _Bull-visaged Neptune._] The patriarch was esteemed the great deity of the sea: and at the same time was represented under the semblance of a bull, or with the head of that animal: and as all rivers were looked upon as the children of the ocean, they likewise were represented in the same manner. BRYANT.

This seems to have been a double emblem: referring to the bull Apis, the representative of the father of husbandry, Osiris, and to the roaring of waters.

[257] _Mingled metal._] Ηλεκτρον is not _amber_, but a mixed metal: which Pliny describes as consisting of three parts gold, and the fourth silver. _Electrum_ is one of the materials in the Shield of Æneas, Æn. viii.:

And mingled metals damask’d o’er with gold.

PITT.

[258] _Pursuit was there._] Homer, Il. vi. 5:

She charged her shoulder with the dreadful Shield,
The shaggy Ægis, border’d thick around
With Terror: there was Discord, Prowess there,
There hot Pursuit.
There Discord raged, there Tumult, and the force
Of ruthless Destiny. She now a chief
Seiz’d newly wounded, and now captive held
Another yet unhurt, and now a third
Dragg’d breathless through the battle by his feet:
And all her garb was dappled thick with blood.
Like living men they travers’d and they strove,
And dragg’d by turns the bodies of the slain.

COWPER, book xviii. Shield of Achilles.

[259] _Herds of boars._] That animal (the wild boar) was no less terrible on the opposite coast of Asia than in Greece: as we learn from Herodotus, book i. c. 34. GILLIES.

[260] _The battle of the Lapithæ._] This forms the subject of the _alto-relievo_ on the entablature of the Parthenon, or the temple of Minerva: ascribed to Phidias. See the “Memorandum” on the Elgin marbles.

[261] _Some from their city._] Homer, Il. book xvii. Shield of Achilles:

The other city by two glittering hosts
Invested stood: and a dispute arose
Between the hosts, whether to burn the town
And lay all waste, or to divide the spoil.
Meantime the citizens, still undismay’d,
Surrender’d not the town, but taking arms
Prepared an ambush; and the wives and boys,
With all the hoary elders, kept the walls.

COWPER.

[262]

_And near to them_
_Stood Misery._]

Warton observes, History of English poetry, vol. i. p. 468: “The French and Italian poets, whom Chaucer imitates, abound in allegorical personages: and it is remarkable that the early poets of Greece and Rome were fond of these creations: we have in Hesiod ‘Darkness:’ and many others; if the Shield of Hercules be of his hand.” But it seems to have escaped the writer that it is not literal, but figurative Darkness which is personified. Guietus ingeniously supposes that it is meant for the dimness of death. Homer, indeed, applies to this the same term: in the death of Eurymachus, Od. xxii. 88:

Κατ’ οφθαλμων δ’ εχυτ’ ΑΧΛΥΣ.

A darkening mist was pour’d upon his eyes.

Tanaquil Faber, on Longinus, contends that αχλυς is here Sorrow. Sorrow is personified in a fragment of Ennius:

Omnibus endo locis ingens apparet imago
Tristitia.

Sorrow, a giant form, uprears the head
In every place.

This is adopted by Grævius and Robinson. In like manner φως its opposite, light, is often used for χαρα, joy: as appears in the oriental style of scripture. But they have omitted to notice that this is a _specific_ sorrow: for what connexion have these horrible symptoms with sorrow in general? I conceive that the prosopopœia describes the misery attendant on war: and especially in a city besieged, with its usual accompaniments of famine, blood, and tears, and the dust or ashes of mourning. Longinus selects the line “an ichor from her nostrils flowed,” as an instance of the false sublime; and compares it with Homer’s verse on Discord,

Treading on earth, her forehead touches heaven.

This is to compare two things totally unlike: why should an image of exhaustion and disease be thought to aim at sublimity? The objection of Longinus that it tends to excite disgust rather than terror is nugatory. The poet did not intend to excite terror, but horror: that kind of horror which arises from the contemplation of physical suffering.

[263] _A well-tower’d city._] Homer, Il. book xviii. Shield of Achilles:

Two splendid cities also there he form’d
Such as men build: in one were to be seen
Rites matrimonial solemnized with pomp
Of sumptuous banquets. Forth they led the brides
Each from her chamber, and along the streets
With torches usher’d them: and with the voice
Of hymeneal song heard all around.
Here striplings danced in circles to the sound
Of pipe and harp; while in the portals stood
Women, admiring all the gallant show.

COWPER.

[264] _Vaulted on steeds._] This circumstance has been thought to betray a later age: as it is alleged, that the only instance of riding on horseback mentioned by Homer is that of Diomed, who, with Ulysses, rides the horses of Rhesus of which he has made prize. But though chariot-horses only are found in the Homeric battles, there is an allusion to horsemanship, as an exhibition of skill, in a simile of the 15th book of the Iliad, v. 679; where the rider is described as riding four horses at once, and vaulting from one to the other.

[265] _Others as husbandmen appear’d._] Homer Il. xviii. Shield of Achilles:

He also graved on it a fallow field
Rich, spacious, and well-till’d. Plowers not few
There driving to and fro their sturdy teams
Labour’d the ground.
There too he form’d the likeness of a field
Crowded with corn: in which the reapers toil’d
Each with a sharp-tooth’d sickle in his hand.
Along the furrow here the harvest fell
In frequent handfuls: there they bound the sheaves.

COWPER.

[266] _In baskets thus up-piled._] Homer Il. xviii. Shield of Achilles:

There also, laden with its fruit, he form’d
A vineyard all of gold: purple he made
The clusters: and the vines supported stood
By poles of silver, set in even rows.
The trench he colour’d sable, and around
Fenced it with tin. One only path it show’d:
By which the gatherers, when they stripp’d the vines,
Pass’d and repass’d. There youths and maidens blithe
In frails of wicker bore the luscious fruit;
While in the midst a boy on his shrill harp
Harmonious play’d: and ever as he struck
The chord, sang to it with a slender voice.
They smote the ground together, and with song
And sprightly reed came dancing on behind.

COWPER.

[267]

_Hung_
_The charioteers._]

This may be compared with the chariot-race at the funeral games of Patroclus, in the Iliad, xxiii. 362, to which, however, it is very inferior.

All raised the lash together; with the reins
All smote their steeds, and urged them to the strife
Vociferating: they with rapid pace
Scouring the field soon left the fleet afar.
Dark, like a stormy cloud, uprose the dust
Beneath them, and their undulating manes
Play’d in the breezes: now the level field
With gliding course, the rugged now they pass’d
With bounding wheels aloft: meantime erect
The drivers stood: with palpitating heart
Each sought the prize: each urged his steeds aloud;
They, flying, fill’d with dust the darken’d air.

COWPER.

This description apparently suggested to Virgil the chariot-race in the Georgics iii. 402, which Dryden has rendered with all the fire of the original.

[268] _The ocean flow’d._] Homer, Il. xviii. Shield of Achilles:

Last with the might of ocean’s boundless flood
He fill’d the border of the wondrous shield.

COWPER.

[269] _Race of the far-famed Lyngeus._] Lyngeus was the ancestor of Perseus, the son of Danaë, and the father of Alcæus: of whom Amphitryon was the son.

[270]

_As rocks_
_From some high mountain-top._]

Homer, Il. book xiii.

Then Hector led himself
Right on: impetuous as a rolling rock
Destructive: torn by torrent waters off
From its old lodgment on the mountain’s brow,
It bounds, it shoots away: the crashing wood
Falls under it: impediment or check
None stays its fury, till the level found
At last, there overcome it rolls no more.

COWPER.

[271] _He cast forth dews of blood._] Iliad, xvi, 459. Death of Sarpedon:

The Sire of gods and men
Dissented not: but on the earth distill’d
A sanguine shower, in honour of a son
Dear to him.

COWPER.

[272] _As in the mountain thickets._] Homer, Iliad xiii.

As in the mountains, conscious of his force,
The wild boar waits a coming multitude
Of boisterous hunters to his lone retreat:
Arching his bristly spine he stands: his eyes
Beam fire: and whetting his bright tusks, he burns
To drive not dogs alone, but men, to flight:
So stood the royal Cretan.

COWPER.

[273] _As two grim lions._] Iliad xvi.:

Then contest such
Arose between them, as two lions wage
Contending in the mountains for a deer
New-slain: both hunger-pinched, and haughty both.

COWPER.

[274] _As vultures curved of beak._] Iliad xvi.:

As two vultures fight
Bow-beak’d, crook-talon’d, on some lofty rock
Clanging their plumes, so they together rush
With dreadful cries.

COWPER.

[275] _As falls a thunder-blasted oak._] Iliad xiv.:

As when Jove’s arm omnipotent an oak
Prostrates uprooted on the plain: a fume
Rises sulphureous from the riven trunk;
So fell the might of Hector, to the earth
Smitten at once. Down dropp’d his idle spear,
And with his helmet and his shield, himself
Also: loud thunder’d all his gorgeous arms.

COWPER.

[276]

_As a lion, who has fall’n_
_Perchance on some stray beast._]

Iliad xvii.:

But as the lion on the mountains bred
Glorious in strength, when he hath seiz’d the best
And fairest of the herd, with savage fangs
First breaks the neck, then laps the bloody paunch,
Torn wide: meantime around him, but remote,
Dogs stand, and huntsmen shouting, yet by fear
Repress’d, annoy him not, nor dare approach;
So these all wanted courage to oppose
The glorious Menelaus.

COWPER.

[277] _Stoop’d from the chariot._] Iliad v.:

When with determin’d fury Mars
O’er yoke and bridle hurl’d his glittering spear:
Minerva caught: and turning it, it pass’d
The hero’s chariot-side, dismiss’d in vain.

COWPER.

[278] _The huge mount and monumental stone._] By the words _tomb_ and _monument_, ταφος and σημα, I understand a mount of earth and a pillar of stone on the top of it: although Homer Il. xxiv. v. 801, applies σημα to the mount: which he seems to describe as raised of stones:

Χευαντες δε το σημα, παλιν κιον.

So casting up the tomb, they back return’d.

Appendix.

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE.

George Chapman was born in 1557. Wood, in the Athenæ Oxonienses, imagines that he was a sworn servant either to James the First or his queen; and says that he was highly valued; but not so much as Ben Jonson: “a person of most reverend aspect, religious and temperate, qualities rarely meeting in a poet.” After living to the age of 77 years he died on the 12th day of May 1634, in the parish of St. Giles’s in the Fields, and was buried there on the south side of the church-yard. His friend Inigo Jones erected a monument to his memory. Of his[279] translation of Homer, Dryden tells us that Waller used to say he never could read it without incredible transport. Besides other translations and poems, he was the author of 17 dramatic pieces.—See _Dodsley’s Collections of Old Plays_, vol. iv.

His version of “The Georgicks of Hesiod” is inscribed in an _Epistle Dedicatorie_ to “The most noble Combiner of Learning and Honour Sir Francis Bacon, Knight; Lord High Chancellor of England, &c.” and prefixed are two copies of commendatory verses with the signatures of Michael Drayton, and Ben Jonson.

This version is generally faithful both to the sense and spirit of the author. Amidst much quaintness of style and ruggedness of numbers, we meet with gleams of a rich expression and with a grasp of language, which, however extravagantly bold, bears the stamp of a genuine poet. Cooke had probably not seen this translation, or he must have avoided many of the errors into which he fell.

SPECIMENS OF CHAPMAN’S HESIOD.

WITH GLOSSARIAL AND CRITICAL EXPLANATIONS.

I.

Thus to him began
The Cloud-Assembler: Thou most crafty Man,
That ioy’st to steale my fire, deceiuing Me,
Shalte feele that Ioy the greater griefe to thee;
And therein plague thy vniuersall Race:
To whom Ile giue a pleasing ill, in place
Of that good fire: And all shall be so vaine
To place their pleasure in embracing paine.
Thus spake, and laught, of Gods and Men the Sire;
And straight enioyn’d the famous God of fire
To mingle instantly, with Water, Earth;
The voyce, and vigor, of a humane Birth
Imposing in it; And so faire a face,
As matcht th’ Immortall Goddesses in grace:
Her forme presenting a most louely Maid:
Then on _Minerua_ his Command he laid,
To make her worke, and wield the wittie loome:
And (for her Beauty) such as might become
The Golden _Venus_, He commanded Her
Vpon her Browes and Countenance to conferre
Her own Bewitchings: stuffing all her Breast
With wilde Desires, incapable of Rest;
And Cares, [280] that feed to all satiety
All human Lineaments. The Crafty spy,
And Messenger of Godheads, _Mercury_
He charg’d t’ informe her with a dogged Minde,
And theeuish Manners. All as he design’d
Was put in act. A Creature straight had frame
Like to a Virgine; Milde and full of Shame:
Which Ioue’s Suggestion made the [281]both-foot lame
Forme so deceitfully; And all of Earth
To forge the liuing Matter of her Birth.
Gray-ey’d _Minerua_ Put her Girdle on;
And show’d how loose parts, wel-composed, shone.
The deified Graces, And [282]the Dame that sets
Sweet words in chiefe forme, Golden [283]Carquenets
Embrac’d her Neck withall; the faire-haird Howers
Her gracious Temples crown’d, with fresh spring-flowers;
But all of these, imploy’d in seuerall place,
_Pallas_ gaue Order; the impulsiue grace.
Her bosome, _Hermes_, the great God of spies,
With subtle fashions fill’d; faire words and lies;
_Ioue_ prompting still. But all the voyce she vs’d
The vocall Herald of the Gods infus’d;
And call’d her name _Pandora_; Since on Her
The Gods did all their seuerall gifts confer:
Who made her such, in euery moouing straine,
To be the Bane of curious Minded Men.

II.

When therefore first fit plow time doth disclose;
Put on with spirit; All, as one, dispose
Thy Servants and thy selfe: plow wet and drie;
And when _Aurora_ first affords her eye
In Spring-time turn the earth vp; which see done
Againe, past all faile, by the Summers Sunne.
Hasten thy labours, that thy crowned fields
May load themselues to thee, and [284]rack their yeelds.
The Tilth-field sowe, on Earth’s most light foundations;
The Tilth-field, banisher of execrations,
Pleaser of Sonnes and Daughters: which t’ improve
With all wisht profits, pray to earthly _Ioue_,
And vertuous _Ceres_; that on all such suits
Her sacred gift bestowes, in blessing fruits.
When first thou enterst foot to plow thy land,
And on thy plow-staffe’s top hast laid thy hand;
Thy Oxens backs that next thee by a Chaine
Thy Oken draught-Tree drawe, put to the paine
Thy Goad imposes. And thy Boy behinde,
That with his Iron Rake thou hast design’d,
To hide thy seed, Let from his labour drive
The Birds, that offer on thy sweat to liue.
The best thing, that in humane Needs doth fall,
Is _Industry_; and _Sloath_ the worst of all.
With one thy Corne ears shall with fruit abound;
And bow their thankfull forheads to the ground;
With th’ other, scarce thy seed again redound.

III.

But if thou shouldst sow late, this well may be
In all thy Slacknesse an excuse for thee:
When, in the Oakes greene arms the Cuckoe sings,
And first delights Men in the louely springs;
If much raine fall, ’tis fit then to defer
Thy sowing worke. But how much raine to beare,
And [285]let no labour, to that Much give eare:
Past intermission let _Ioue_ steepe the grasse
Three daies together, so he do not passe
An Oxes hoofe in depth; and neuer [286]stay
To strowe thy seed in: (but if deeper way
_Ioue_ with his raine makes; then forbeare the field;)
For late sowne then will [287]past the formost yield.
Minde well all this, nor let it fly thy powrs
To knowe what fits the white spring’s early flowrs;
Nor when raines timely fall: Nor when sharp colde,
In winter’s wrath, doth men from worke withholde,
Sit by Smiths forges, nor warme tauernes hant;
Nor let the bitterest of the season dant
Thy thrift-arm’d [288]paines, [289]like idle Pouertie;
For then the time is when th’ industrious [290]Thie
Vpholdes, with all increase, his Familie:
With whose [291]rich hardness spirited, do thou
[292]Poor Delicacie flie; lest frost and snowe
[293]Fled for her loue, Hunger [294]sit both them out,
And make thee, with the beggar’s lazie gout
Sit stooping to the paine, still pointing too’t,
And with a leane hand stroke a [295]foggie foot.

IV.

When aire’s chill North his noisome frosts shall blowe
All ouer earth, and all the wide sea throwe
At Heauen in hills, from colde horse-breeding Thrace;
The beaten earth, and all her Syluane race
Roring and bellowing with his bitter strokes;
[296]Plumps of thick firre-trees and high crested-Okes
Torne up in vallies; [297]all _Aire’s_ floud let flie
In him, at Earth; [298] sad nurse of all that die.
Wilde beasts abhor him; and run clapping close
Their sterns betwixt their thighs; and euen all those
Whose hides their fleeces line with highest proofe;
Euen Oxe-hides also want expulsive stuffe,
And bristled goates, against his bitter gale:
He blowes so colde, he beates quite through them all.
Onely with silly sheep it fares not so;
For they each summer [299]fleec’t, their [300]fells so growe,
[301]They shield all winter crusht into his winde.
He makes the olde Man trudge for life, to finde
Shelter against him; but he cannot blast
The tender and the delicately grac’t
Flesh of the virgin; she is kept within,
Close by her mother, careful of her skin:
[302]Since yet she neuer knew how to enfolde
The force of _Venus_ [303]swimming all in golde.
Whose Snowie bosome choicely washt and balm’d
With wealthy oiles, she keepes the house becalm’d,
All winter’s spight; when in his fire-lesse shed
And miserable roofe still hiding head,
The bonelesse fish doth eat his feet for colde:
To whom the Sunne doth neuer food vnfolde;
But turnes aboue the blacke Mens populous towrs,
On whom he more bestowes his radiant howres
That on th’ _Hellenians_: then all Beasts of horne,
And smooth-brow’d, that in beds of wood are borne,
About the Oken dales that North-winde flie,
Gnashing their teeth with restlesse miserie;
And euerywhere that [304]Care solicits all,
That ([305]out of shelter) to their Couerts fall,
And Cauerns eaten into Rocks; and then
Those wilde Beasts shrink, like tame three-footed Men,
Whose backs are broke with age, and forheads driu’n
To stoope to Earth, though borne to looke on Heav’n.
Euen like to these, Those tough-bred rude ones goe,
Flying the white drifts of the Northerne Snowe.

V.

But then betake thee to the shade that lies
In shield of Rocks; drinke Biblian wine, and eate
The creamy wafer: Gotes milke, that the Teate
Giues newly free, and nurses Kids no more:
Flesh of Bow-brousing Beeues, that neuer bore,
And tender kids. And to these, taste black wine,
The third part water, of the Crystaline
Still flowing fount, that feeds a streame beneath;
And sit in shades, where temperate gales may breath
On thy oppos’d cheeks. When _Orion’s_ raies
His influence, in first ascent, assaies,
Then to thy labouring Seruants giue command,
[306]To dight the sacred gift of _Ceres_ hand,
In some place windie, on a [307]well-planed floore;
Which, all by measure, into Vessels poure;
Make then thy Man-swaine, one that hath no house;
Thy handmaid one, that hath nor child nor spouse;
Handmaids, that children have, are rauenous.
A Mastiffe likewise, nourish still at home;
Whose teeth are sharp, and close as any Combe;
And meat him well, to keep with stronger guard
The Day-sleep-wake-Night Man from forth thy yard:
That else thy Goods into his Caues will beare:
[308]Inne Hay and Chaffe enough for all the yeare,
To serve thy Oxen and thy Mules; and then
Loose them: and ease [309]the dear knees of thy Men.

VI.