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These, where two ways in equal parts divide,
The direful monster from afar descry'd,

Two bleeding babes depending at her side; 720
Whose panting vitals, warm with life she draws,
And in their hearts imbrues her cruel claws.
The youths surround her with extended spears,
But brave Chorobus in the front appears;
Deep in her breast he plung'd his shining

sword,

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And hell's dire monster back to hell restor❜d.
Th' Inachians view the slain with vast surprise,
Her twisting volumes, and her rolling eyes,
Her spotted breast, and gaping womb, imbru'd
With livid poison, and our children's blood. 730
The crowd in stupid wonder fix'd, appear
Pale ev'n in joy, nor yet forget to fear.

Some with vast beams the squalid corpse engage,
And weary all the wild efforts of rage.

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The birds obscene, that nightly flock'd to taste, 735
With hollow screeches fled the dire repast;
And rav'nous dogs, allur'd by scented blood,
And starving wolves, ran howling to the wood.
But, fir'd with rage, from cleft Parnassus' brow
Avenging Phoebus bent his deadly bow,
And hissing flew the feather'd fates below:
A night of sultry clouds involv'd around
The tow'rs, the fields, and the devoted ground:
And now a thousand lives together fled,
Death with his scythe cut off the fatal thread, 745
And a whole province in his triumph led.

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But Phœbus, ask'd why noxious fires appear,
And raging Sirius blasts the sickly year?
Demands their lives by whom his monster fell,
And dooms a dreadful sacrifice to hell.
Bless'd be thy dust, and let eternal fame
Attend thy manes, and preserve thy name,
Undaunted hero! who, divinely brave,
In such a cause disdain'd thy life to save,
But view'd the shrine with a superior look,
And its upbraided godhead thus bespoke :
"With piety, the soul's securest guard,
And conscious virtue, still its own reward,
Willing I come, unknowing how to fear,
Nor shalt thou, Phoebus, find a suppliant here: 760
Thy monster's death to me was ow'd alone,
And 'tis a deed too glorious to disown.
Behold him here for whom, so many days,
Impervious clouds conceal'd thy sullen rays!
For whom, as man no longer claim'd thy care, 765
Such numbers fell by pestilential air!

But if th' abandon'd race of human-kind
From gods above no more compassion find;
If such inclemency in heav'n can dwell,
Yet why must unoffending Argos feel
The vengeance due to this unlucky steel?
On me, on me, let all thy fury fall,
Nor err from me, since I deserve it all:
Unless our desert cities please thy sight,
Or fun'ral flames reflect a grateful light,

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VOL, III,

Discharge thy shafts, this ready bosom rend,
And to the shades a ghost triumphant send.
But for
my country, let my fate atone;

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Be mine the vengeance, as the crime my own." Merit distress'd impartial Heav'n relieves; 780 Unwelcome life relenting Phœbus gives:

For not the vengeful pow'r that glow'd with rage,
With such amazing virtue durst engage.

The clouds dispers'd; Apollo's wrath expir'd ;
And from the wond'ring god th' unwilling youth

retir'd.

Thence we these altars in his temple raise,
And offer annual honors, feasts, and praise;

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These solemn feasts propitious Phoebus please; These honors, still renew'd, his ancient wrath

appease.

"But say, illustrious guest !" (adjoin'd the King) "What name you bear, from what high race you spring?

The noble Tydeus stands confess'd, and known
Our neighbor prince, and heir of Calydon.
Relate your fortunes, while the friendly night,
And silent hours, to various talk invite."

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The Theban bends on earth his gloomy eyes, Confus'd and sadly thus at length replies :

Before these altars how shall I proclaim

(O gen'rous Prince !) my nation, or my name, Or through what veins our ancient bloom has

roll'd ?

Let the sad tale for ever rest untold!

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Yet if, propitious to a wretch unknown,
You seek to share in sorrows not your own,
Know then from Cadmus I derive my race,
"Jocasta's son, and Thebes my native place.' 805
To whom the King, (who felt his gen'rous breast
Touch'd with concern for his unhappy guest)
Replies; " ah! why forbears the son to name
His wretched father, known too well by fame ?
Fame that delights around the world to stray, 810
Scorns not to take her Argos in her way.

Ev'n those who dwell where suns at distance roll,
In northern wilds, and freeze beneath the pole,
And those who tread the burning Lybian lands,
The faithless Syrtes, and the moving sands; 815
Who view the western sea's extremest bounds,
Or drink of Ganges in their eastern grounds;
All these the woes of Edipus have known,
Your Fates, your Furies, and your haunted town.
If on the sons the parents' crimes descend,
What prince from those his lineage can defend?
Be this thy comfort, that 'tis thine t'efface
With virtuous acts thy ancestors' disgrace,
And be thyself the honor of thy race.
But see! the stars begin to steal away,
And shine more faintly at approaching day:
Now

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pour the wine; and in your tuneful lays Once more resound the great Apollo's praise." "O Father Phoebus! whether Lycia's coast, And snowy mountains, thy bright presence boast;

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