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WESTMINSTER 
 ABBEY; 
 
 WITH 
 
 OTHER OCCASIONAL POEMS, 
 
 AND A 
 
 FREE TRANSLATION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS 
 
 OF SOPHOCLES. 
 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF INDIAN ANTIQUITIES. 
 
 V 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, 
 
 BY W. BULMER AND CO. CLEVELAND-ROW, ST. JAMES'S. 
 
 AND SOLD BY WHITE, COCHRANE, AND CO. FLEET STREET, 
 
 AND THE AUTHOR AT THE BRITISH MUSEUM. 
 
 1813. 
 

TO 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 THE EARL OF CARYSFORT, 
 
 K. P. F. R. S. fyc. 8$c. 
 
 EQUALLY DISTINGUISHED AS THE FRIEND AND 
 THE FAVOURITE OF THE CLASSIC MUSE, 
 
 THESE PAGES ARE, 
 WITH RESPECT AND GRATITUDE, 
 
 INSCRIBED, 
 
 BY HIS OBLIGED 
 AND FAITHFUL SERVANT, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 )3 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Westminster- Abbey : an Elegiac and Historical Poem - p. 1 
 
 An Elegiac and Historical Poem, sacred to the Memory and Virtues 
 of Sir William Jones. Containing a retrospective Survey of the 
 Progress of Science, and the Mohammedan Conquests in Asia 55 
 
 The Lotos of Egypt - - - - 91 
 
 Hinda ; an Arabian Elegy - - - - 101 
 
 Genius ; a Poem. Written for the Anniversary of the Literary Fund, 
 May 8th, 1806 - - - - 111 
 
 A Free Translation of the Oedipus Tyrannus of Sophocles, with 
 a Preface by the late Samuel Johnson, LL.D. - - 121 
 
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 N. B. As the Author trusts rather to a private than a public sale for a 
 remuneration of the charges of this expensive volume, the List of Sub- 
 scribers will be kept open, and those who may favour him with their 
 commands, at the British Museum, may depend upon having copies 
 with selected Impressions of the Plates. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 1 rodigy and Fable are so intimately 
 Mended with whatever was magnificent 
 and stupendous under the Romish su- 
 perstition, that we must not wonder if 
 the foundation of so august and cele- 
 brated an edifice as Westminster- 
 Abbey, be attributed to supernatural 
 aid, and its consecration be affirmed 
 to have been attended with peculiar 
 and distinguished miracles. Accord- 
 ingly we are informed in Monkish 
 
 B 
 
2 
 
 legends, that St. Peter himself de- 
 scended at its solemnization; a grand 
 chorus of celestial music joined in the 
 awful ceremony; while the radiant 
 glories of Heaven illumined the rising 
 fabric. 
 
 To descend, however, from fable to 
 reality, it was originally founded about 
 the year 600, by one of the first Saxon 
 kings, upon the ruins of an ancient 
 temple, said to have been dedicated 
 to Apollo. On the invasion of the 
 Danes it became the object of sacrile- 
 gious fury ; but its decaying splendour 
 was revived, first by Edgar, and after- 
 wards by Edward the Confessor, who 
 pulled down the old church, and caused 
 a new and most magnificent edifice, for 
 that age, to be raised on its site, in the 
 
3 
 
 form of a cross. He confirmed all the 
 old charters in its favour; he granted 
 a new one, with more ample privileges, 
 and more liberal endowments; he 
 caused it to be signed by all the nobi- 
 lity and dignified clergy of the realm, 
 in a general convention holden for that 
 purpose ; and he closed the whole by a 
 solemn deed, fraught with the most tre- 
 mendous imprecations upon all such as 
 should infringe it. Two centuries after, 
 a partial decay having taken place, the 
 repair of this Abbey, on an extended 
 scale, was begun by Henry the Third, 
 who did not live to complete the design 
 he had engaged in. Amidst the bloody 
 and tumultuous wars between the 
 Houses of York and Lancaster, when 
 all the works of science and genius 
 throughout the kingdom were at a 
 
stand, it was indebted for its improve- 
 ments, during this gloomy interval, to 
 the private munificence of the several 
 monks and abbots who successively en- 
 joyed its revenues. 
 
 To Henry the Seventh Westminster- 
 Abbey owed the completion of its gran- 
 deur, by his erecting that beautiful pile 
 of Gothic architecture which bears his 
 name, and is justly esteemed its greatest 
 ornament. The rose of Lancaster is 
 still visible on many parts of the build- 
 ing, and his monument of solid brass 
 in the centre of the chapel, so nobly 
 gilt, and exquisitely wrought, as to 
 have been the admiration of ages, has 
 given him that kind of immortality 
 which his vanity seemed to aim at. 
 His son and successor, however, paid 
 
little regard to the object of his father s 
 ambition, by suffering it to be plun- 
 dered of inestimable treasures, the accu- 
 mulation of ages ; and in the unhappy 
 civil wars, when the ancient and vene- 
 rable beauty of all the religious houses 
 in the kingdom was wantonly defaced, 
 its costly shrines and richly painted 
 windows became once more the object 
 of sacrilegious fury. At length, towards 
 the conclusion of the 17th century, a 
 general and complete repair of this 
 august edifice, at the national expense, 
 was thought absolutely necessary to 
 save it from falling into total ruin. 
 This great work was undertaken by 
 Sir Christopher Wren, with equal 
 vigour and ability, and has since been 
 nearly finished according to the plan 
 laid down by that celebrated architect. 
 
6 
 
 The south side has been new cased 
 with a more durable kind of stone than 
 that which formerly invested it, and 
 which, by the injuries of time, was in 
 many places decayed to a considerable 
 depth : two very stately towers have 
 been added to strengthen the building, 
 not inferior, in point of workmanship 
 and majesty, to any part of the ancient 
 structure ; and the choir has been 
 adorned with new stalls and seats, in a 
 style corresponding with the internal 
 part of the fabric. 
 
 Thus much was thought necessary 
 to be said to gratify the curiosity of the 
 reader, as he will find the following 
 pages allude to more important consi- 
 derations than those which merely 
 regard its external history. Brought, 
 
of late, more prominently into public 
 view, and enriched with new decora- 
 tions, this mighty dormitory of the 
 illustrious dead cannot fail to awaken 
 in the mind the most awful reflections 
 on the transitoriness of human glory, 
 and the vanity of all sublunary distinc- 
 tions. If, in the subsequent pages, the 
 important truths, dictated by this sur- 
 vey of one of the noblest remains of 
 Antiquity in Britain, are impressively 
 displayed, the Author s end will be 
 answered ; and he will have the satis- 
 faction to know, that the last effort of 
 a Muse fostered by Johnson, and 
 applauded by Jones, has not been 
 exerted in vain. 
 
WESTMINSTER-ABBEY: 
 
 AN 
 
 ELEGIAC AND HISTORICAL POEM. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 The Poem opens with reflections suitable to the grandeur and solem- 
 nity of the subject. — High antiquity of the structure — the most 
 venerable remain of Gothic Architecture in England — sublimely emi- 
 nent amid the wrecks of time, and the revolution of empires. — Rapid 
 sketch of its ancient grandeur at the period when the Roman Catholic 
 religion flourished in its meridian splendor. — Shrine of Edward the 
 Confessor — its immense wealth. — Henry the Seventh's Chapel. — 
 Edward the First. — Houses of York and Lancaster, with their 
 rival roses slumber undistinguished in this House of Death. — Vanity of 
 Ambition — Pitt — Fox. — Vanity of Genius and Science — Dryden — 
 Handel — Murray — Mead — C as aubon.— Ancient times of Chivalry 
 — the Crusaders — the feudal Barons. — Personal combats of ancient 
 warriors — Percy and Douglas. — Fondness of our ancestors for 
 armorial bearings, richly blazoned — massy shields and spears — statues 
 in brass — statues in marble. — Distinguished females — Queen Eliza- 
 beth — Mary Queen of Scots — Queen Anne — Dutchess of Somerset 
 — Percy, Dutchess of Northumberland. 
 
/ Bnr/ew .trul/isil 
 
 9/^ N O RTH FOTLTI C O ; a^-ici^t/fy ra//^/ fits BEAUTIF I T E 
 
WESTMINSTER- ABBEY 
 
 AN 
 
 ELEGIAC AND HISTORICAL POEM. 
 
 CANTO THE FIRST. 
 
 JVIajestic Monument of pious toil ! 
 
 Whose towers sublime in Gothic grandeur soar- 
 Where Death sits brooding o'er his noblest spoil, 
 
 And strews with royal dust the sacred floor : 
 
 Stupendous Fabric ! that, through many an age, 
 Closed in eternal night, hath proudly stood ; 
 
 Secure, 'mid Desolation's boundless rage, 
 The wasting fire, and the devouring flood; 
 
14 WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 
 
 Secure, while fleeting man's ephemeral race — 
 Whose labours rear'd thy massive walls so high ; 
 
 Fix'd yon proud columns on their central base, 
 And bade thy turrets rush into the sky — 
 
 Have roll'd, by myriads, down the dark profound, 
 Wreck' d on Oblivion's solitary strand ; — 
 
 Secure, while meaner fanes have crumbled round, 
 Dash'd to the ground by Time's destroying hand ! 
 
 Since first those turrets felt the solar ray, 
 
 What changes have convulsed the rolling ball ; 
 
 What mighty empires have been swept away, 
 What glorious dynasties been doom'd to fall ! 
 
 August and hallow'd Dome ! thro' earth renown'd ; 
 
 Ere yet thy grandeur and thy beauty fade, 
 Ere Fate's loud voice thy destin'd hour shall sound, 
 
 And yon proud battlements in dust are laid, 
 
 Unfold thy portals to my daring song — 
 Ye dusky iles, ye lonely cloisters, hail ! 
 
 Come, Inspiration, lead my steps along, 
 And all the secrets of the grave unveil. 
 
WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 15 
 
 Nor thou, chaste Orb ! to whose unconscious beam, 
 In Britain's groves,* once burn'd unhallow'd fires, 
 
 Whose pale ray, trembling in Augusta's stream, 
 Illumes, with silver light, her hundred spires : 
 
 The cheering radiance of that beam deny, 
 To chase the horrors of this dreadful gloom ; 
 
 Where the night-phantom, swiftly gliding by, 
 Shoots o'er my path, and beckons to the tomb ! 
 
 Not thus, proud fane ! in Britain's elder day, 
 Thy sombre vaults incumbent shades o'erspread; 
 
 At midnight roll'd, sublime, the choral lay, 
 While blazing shrines a noon-day lustre shed. 
 
 Those gorgeous shrines, where mightiest Monarchsbow'd, 
 Bright with a thousand burning tapers gleam'd; 
 
 Thro' thy vast portals rush'd th' adoring crowd, 
 Round thy high roofs the wafted incense stream'd. 
 
 * In Roman Britain, under the name of Diana. St. Paul's Cathedral is 
 said to have been erected on the ruins of a temple of Diana ; this Abbey on 
 the ruins of one sacred to Apollo. 
 
16 WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 
 
 Enrich' d by Genius, at the altar fired ! 
 
 The blazon' d walls, and pictur'd windows glow'd; 
 The radiant cross the raptur'd throng inspir'd ; 
 
 Loud rang the dome, and wide the glory flowed. 
 
 Loaded with gifts from Asia's fragrant shore, 
 Thy beauteous porch* admiring pilgrims sought, 
 
 Thy naming altars heap'd with gems and ore, 
 And relics, from imperial Salem, brought. 
 
 What pen th' unrivall'd splendors shall recite 
 
 That mark' d the sainted Founder' sf sumptuous shrine; 
 
 Oppressive beaming on the dazzled sight, 
 
 With richest jewels deck'd, + a countless mine ! 
 
 Barbarian pomp ! with sound devotion warm, 
 
 The soul no costly pageantry requires ; 
 No gilded roofs th' astonish' d eye to charm, 
 
 Nor blazing shrines to fan her purer fires ! 
 
 * The magnificent Portico, at the north entrance, was, from its admirable 
 style of architecture, anciently denominated the beautiful, or Solomon's Gate, 
 
 ■f* Edward the Confessor. 
 
 J The offerings of the Crusaders after their return from the Holy Land, 
 in the succeeding reign, were of immense value. 
 
WESTMINSTER- ABBEY. 17 
 
 Far from the domes in dazzling pomp array'd, 
 Where sparkling gems, or burning tapers glare, 
 
 She loves the solemn, dark, sequester' d shade, 
 And silent breathes to Heaven her fervent pray'r. 
 
 When dim the ruby's fading beams shall grow, 
 Nor radiance more from polish' d diamonds roll, 
 
 Thy light, oh Virtue ! unimpair'd shall glow, 
 Bright as yon stars, and stedfast as the pole ! 
 
 Now darkness, shadowing wide the silent earth, 
 Bids Vice unmask, and stalk her nightly round ; 
 
 Now frantic bacchanals renew their mirth, 
 
 While Commerce rests, in golden slumbers bound. 
 
 Now Dissipation drives her whirling car 
 In courts to shine, or flaunt in masquerade ; 
 
 Her thousand torches glitter from afar, 
 And pour meridian day on midnight shade. 
 
 Hence, Greatness, with thy toys — thy stars, thy strings, 
 The jewell'd sceptre, and imperial crown ; 
 
 My soul superior views the pride of Kings, 
 
 And on the bright parade of courts looks down. 
 
 C 
 
18 WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 
 
 The glittering spoils that round Ambition blaze, 
 The trophied arch, the golden canopy, 
 
 The plume, refulgent with the diamond's rays, 
 The shout of millions echoing to the sky, 
 
 For the deep silence of the grave I spurn — 
 And quit the living pageant for the dead : 
 
 Mine be the plume that shades yon mouldering urn, 
 While Death's dark canopy inshrouds my head. 
 
 Hark ! how the hollow blast, with savage wail, 
 Roars 'mid the turrets of the rocking pile ; 
 
 While in deep notes, responsive to the gale, 
 The slow bell labours thro' the lengthening ile. 
 
 Awe-struck I kneel, and kiss the hallow'd ground, 
 Where Britain's warlike progeny repose ; 
 
 Whose hearts no more with martial transports bound, 
 Nor burning pulse with patriot ardour glows. 
 
 Expand thy gates of brass, thou glorious Fane,* 
 Of matchless structure, beauteous to behold ; 
 
 Rear'd by that prince, o'er Bosworth's crimson'd plain 
 Whose victor arm the storm of battle roll'd. 
 
 * Henry the Seventh's Chapel. 
 
WESTMINSTER- ABBEY. 19 
 
 While, raptur'd, on thy roof, thy walls, I gaze, 
 That with such pomp of Gothic splendour tow'r ; 
 
 And while, aloft, the banner' d trophies blaze, * 
 Let musing Sadness rule the solemn hour. 
 
 Ye monarchs of the earth ! attend your doom, 
 
 And throw awhile the rich tiara by ; 
 Come, mourn with me at mighty Henry's tomb, 
 
 And heed a monitor that cannot lie ! 
 
 The far-famed conqu'rors of their transient day, 
 The lion-race, of dauntless Edward f born, 
 
 Divested of their purple pomp survey, 
 
 And from their grasp the rubied sceptre torn. 
 
 Approach, nor tremble while your steps descend 
 To charnell'd caverns — Grandeur's last abode! 
 
 From mouldering majesty its trappings rend, 
 And view the worm its regal spoil corrode. 
 
 * The Banners of the Knights of the Bath, suspended in that chapel. 
 
 t Edward the First, from whom were lineally descended the kings who 
 triumphed at Agincourt and Cressy. 
 
20 WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 
 
 Shades of the mighty ! rise— confirm my strains, — 
 Rise thou, whom Agincourt triumphant view'd, 
 
 What now of all your boundless spoil remains, 
 Of plunder' d nations, and a world subdued? 
 
 Sovereigns of Britain ! when in gorgeous state 
 You bend the knee, at yon high altar crown'd, 
 
 Let stern Reflection paint your destined fate, 
 
 When a few suns have roll'd their radiant round. 
 
 With thundering shouts when Heaven's high arch 
 resounds, 
 
 And long and loud the pealing organs blow, 
 When the rich diadem your brow surrounds, 
 
 Think on th' insatiate grave that yawns below ! 
 
 Here York and Lancaster are foes no more, 
 In the same dark sepulchral vault inurn'd ; 
 
 Their eager contest for dominion's o'er, 
 
 Extinct the rage that in their bosoms burn'd. 
 
 Senseless to glory as their marble shrines, 
 The jasper columns that their ashes shade, 
 
 Low in the dust each mighty chief reclines, 
 In mail no more, but mantling shrouds array'd. 
 
WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 21 
 
 Blasted the lilies * on the blazon'd shield, 
 
 Wither' d the rival roses' f fatal bloom ? 
 All vanqnish'd on this vast but bloodless field, 
 
 Where Fate's dark banner sheds its baleful gloom. 
 
 Here — scarcely less renown' d in Glory's page, — 
 
 Sublime in genius, rich in classic lore 
 
 The rival statesmen of our wondering age 
 Slumber, unconscious, on the marble floor. 
 
 Since Tully pour'd in Rome his fervid strain, 
 
 Than Pitt's, what loftier accents charm' d the soul ? 
 
 With nobler rage through yon resounding fane, J 
 Than Fox, who bade the manly periods roll ? 
 
 Oft through incumbent night's protracted gloom, 
 Of eloquence rush'd on th' impetuous stream, 
 
 Till, through the casements of th' illumin'd dome, 
 Astonish' d Phoebus pour'd his orient beam 
 
 * The lily of France, recently quartered by our Princes. 
 
 f The white and red roses, the peculiar distinction of those illustrious 
 Houses. 
 
 % St. Stephen's Chapel. 
 
22 WESTMINSTER- ABBEY. 
 
 Close by great Chatham's shrine their dust is laid, 
 Alike their genius tower' d, alike their fame — 
 
 When marbles crumble to the dust they shade, 
 Immortal blooms the Patriot's sacred name ! 
 
 Here too — as Time rolls on his vast career — 
 
 Grenviele, whose breast with fires congenial glows, 
 
 Shall weeping nations place thy honour'd bier, 
 And near thy Pitt thy laurell'd head repose. 
 
 Thus Genius, Science — all that 's great or brave, 
 A mighty heap of ruins ! round me lies, 
 
 Absorb'd, ingulph'd by the devouring grave ; 
 All, all is vain beneath yon bounding skies. 
 
 Here quench' d for ever is the Muse's fire, 
 For ever ceas'd is Music's rapturous swell ! 
 
 Near Dryden hangs untun'd his lofty lyre, 
 
 And Handee smites no more the deep-ton'd shell. 
 
 In these dark chambers of the grave reclines 
 Full many a letter' d, many an ermin'd sage ; 
 
 In Learning's list how bright Casaubon shines, 
 And Mead, the boast of an enlighten'd age. 
 
WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 23 
 
 Who shall great Murray's* wondrous powers pourtray ? 
 
 What music charm'd us like that silver tongue ? 
 On which — mellifluous as the Mantuan's lay — 
 
 The crowded Bar, and raptur'd Senate hung. 
 
 But ages far remote the song demand, 
 
 When Chivalry led forth her martial train ; 
 
 Of hardy knights here sleeps a gallant band, 
 Who fought on Palestine's immortal plain. 
 
 Burning with rage that infidels should sway 
 
 The realms where Jordan rolls her sacred flood, 
 
 To Syria's distant bounds they forced their way 
 Through hostile nations and a sea of blood. 
 
 And soon, aloft, on Salem's bastion' d walls, 
 In crimson pomp, the victor crosses glow, 
 
 Beneath their spears the might of Othman falls, 
 And the gemm'd crescent withers on his brow. 
 
 The Baron, haughty, jealous, fierce of soul, 
 Reserv'd in council, dauntless in the field, 
 
 Whom tyrants could not bend, nor law controul, 
 Hath here resigned to fate th' ensanguined shield. 
 
 * The late Earl of Mansfield. 
 
24 WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 
 
 The pond'rous helmet, and the massy spear, 
 Suspended high, their master's prowess show, 
 
 Who frowns, above, in breathing brass, severe, 
 Or tow'rs in marble o'er the prostrate foe*. 
 
 Form'd by some British Phidias' daring hand, 
 
 Swells the broad chest, high beat the throbbing veins, 
 
 With nerves of rock the giant limbs expand, 
 Athens revives on Albion's northern plains. 
 
 What life, what fire, informs th' athletic frame, 
 Sublimely wrought the rage of time to brave ; 
 
 In ductile gold the blazon' d lions flame, * 
 
 And the proud plumes in silver radiance wave. 
 
 As o'er these dreary catacombs I tread, 
 What mingled passions in my bosom rise, 
 
 Here Wisdom sojourns with the slumbering dead, 
 And Fraud detected drops the vain disguise. 
 
 * The richness and beauty of the colouring and gilding on some of the 
 most ancient monuments in this Abbey, after the lapse of so many centuries, 
 are astonishing. The colours and enamelling on the tomb of Henry III. are 
 among the most splendid examples of this species of gorgeous decoration. 
 
WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 25 
 
 Wealth, power, ambition, where are fled those charms 
 That tyrannize o'er man's deluded race ? 
 
 Ye that arouse the maddening world to arms, 
 And shake contending kingdoms to their base, 
 
 Where is the breathing glow of beauty fled, 
 That once the soul of rival warriors fir'd, 
 
 The sparkling eye, the cheek with crimson spread, 
 The air — the shape — by crowded courts admir'd ! 
 
 For here full many a beauteous virgin sleeps, 
 For matchless worth and constancy approved — 
 
 And many a dame the soften' d marble weeps, 
 From kings descended, and by kings belov'd. 
 
 Ah ! what avail'd their high patrician blood ? 
 
 Promiscuous fall the beauteous and the brave — 
 What, roll'd from kings, the rich unsullied flood, 
 
 Virtue alone survives the vanquish'd grave. 
 
 The loveliest cheek, the eye that brightest beams, 
 
 Blooms but to perish — sparkles but to fade, 
 Charm us with brilliant, but with transient gleams, 
 ^ Then sink, extinguished, in eternal shade ! 
 
26 WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 
 
 Peace, beauteous Exile ! to thy injur' d shade,* 
 In life defain'd, in death with glory crown'd, 
 
 Securely slumber, near thy rival laid, 
 
 Beyond the grave her vengeance cannot wound. 
 
 Too stern Eliza ! why that barbarous deed, 
 
 Which a deep shade o'er all thy laurels throws ; 
 
 And could thy soften'd heart for Essex bleed, 
 Nor melt at sun ' ring Mary's deeper woes ? 
 
 But for this blot, yon center'd sun ne'er view'd 
 A throne with more triumphant splendour fill'd, 
 
 Each foreign rival by thy pow'r subdu'd, 
 Domestic faction by thy wisdom still'd ! 
 
 What potent song shall utter half thy praise — 
 Let Europe's annals tell the wondrous tale — 
 
 Let freed Batavia songs of triumph raise, 
 Let Spain her wreck' d Invincible bewail. 
 
 * Mary Queen of Scots. Though the labours of some late historians 
 have not been entirely successful in their endeavours to wipe away every 
 reproach from the memory of this unfortunate Queen, yet it is universally 
 acknowledged that she met the fate to which she was doomed with the 
 firmness of an heroine, and the resignation of a martyr. 
 
WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 2!j 
 
 Nor less, on adamantine tablets grav'd, 
 
 The triumphs, Anne ! of thy victorious reign, 
 
 When Glory all her glittering ensigns wav'd, 
 
 To crush the Gaul on Blenheim's blood-stain' d plain! 
 
 Beneath yon tomb that towers in pillar' d pride, 
 With bright imperial trophies rich emblaz'd, 
 
 Illustrious Seymour sleeps, to thrones allied,* 
 Above the pomp of thrones by virtue rais'd ! 
 
 With nobler transport than her valiant sires, 
 For glory burn'd amid th' embattled field- — 
 
 Her bosom glow'd with pure devotion's fires, 
 
 Truth her bright spear, and Faith her guardian shield. 
 
 Here, Percy, as I cast my eyes around, 
 
 Lost in the blaze of titles and of birth ; t 
 Who more than Thee for high descent renown'd, 
 
 Who more ennobled by intrinsic worth ? 
 
 * The Dutchess of Somerset, wife to the Protector, father of Queen Jane 
 Seymour, and uncle to Edward VI. She herself was lineally descended 
 from Edward the Third. 
 
 -r The vault of the Percy family is in St. Nicholas Chapel, in this Abbey, 
 where, in particular, in a most superb monument, erected to the memory 
 
28 WESTMINSTER- ABBEY. 
 
 What marbles can— what breathing sculptures dare— 
 We view, astonish' d, at thy lofty shrine ; * 
 
 While near the gorgeous banners float in air, 
 Charged with the glories of thy mighty line. 
 
 Witness, ye fields ! for ages drench'd with blood, 
 Ye hills ! where Discord drove her thundering car, 
 
 When the fierce Scot a rival's arm withstood, 
 
 And Cheviot's mountains nursed the brooding war. 
 
 To Fancy's eye the glorious scenes return, 
 And oft she wanders o'er the lonely heath, 
 
 Transported, views the kindling battle burn, 
 And Hotspur raging through the field of death. 
 
 of her Grace by the Duke, her husband, lies interred the late Duchess of 
 Northumberland. She was sole heiress, by lineal descent, to the baronies 
 of Percy, Lucy, Poynings, Fitzpayne, Bryan, and Latimer, through the in- 
 termarriages of her ancestors with the several heirs of those families. 
 
 * Suspended in Henry the Seventh's Chapel. At the erection of the 
 church also, the arms of the Percy family were blazon'd among those of 
 other nobles of high rank between the arches of the pillars that support the 
 roof. Those of Gulielmus de Percy being, or, a lion rampant, rank the 
 13th in order, on the south side of the Abbey. 
 
WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 29 
 
 Known by the splendours his proud crest displays, 
 Refulgent gleaming o'er th' illumin'd plain, 
 
 Douglas, from far, his ancient foe surveys, 
 And springs impetuous o'er the heaps of slain. 
 
 And now more quick their throbbing pulses beat, 
 With ardent valour's high electric flame ; 
 
 Like raging lions the stern champions meet, 
 To whom contending nations trust their fame. 
 
 On either hand divide the hostile bands, 
 
 Her reeking blade ensanguin'd Slaughter sheathes ; 
 
 In silent horror Expectation stands, 
 
 And Fame aloft th' immortal laurel wreathes.* 
 
 Resistless as the lightning's flash descends 
 
 The gleaming blade, while ether kindles round ; 
 
 The ponderous lance the shatter'd target rends, 
 
 And thousand glittering fragments strew the ground. 
 
 * The Author begs to observe that, in the above description of a combat 
 between those mighty border chieftains, he had no particular historical fact 
 in view. A general sketch of these dreadful personal contests in the times of 
 chivalry, was alone intended. 
 
30 WESTMINSTER- ABBEY. 
 
 High bounds with rage the palpitating heart, 
 The warrior's ardour burns, the patriot's pride, 
 
 Vindictive flames their glowing eyeballs dart, 
 And with a crimson hue their cheeks are died. 
 
 Fierce, and more fierce, the fiery contest grows, 
 The destin'd theme of many a minstrel's song, 
 
 O'er their stain'd arms a sanguine deluge flows, 
 And anxious terrors chill the gazing throng. 
 
 Pierc'd with a hundred wounds they still contend, 
 With feebler rage, but unextinguish'd fires : 
 
 Fate bids at length the stubborn conflict end, 
 And Douglas at his rival's feet expires ! 
 
 In mightier Fate's eternal fetters bound, 
 
 Here, Douglas, view o'erthrown thy victor foe ; 
 
 Unconscious to the trumpet's thrilling sound, 
 Honour's high throb, and valour's martial glow. 
 
 Should some fierce chief of Caledonia's shore, 
 In fame renown'd as that immortal line, 
 
 These mansions of the mighty dead explore, 
 
 Ah ! scornful pass not yon high-blazon' d shrine. 
 
WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 31 
 
 Proud Scot ! exult not o'er yon trophied urn, 
 
 But tread with awe the grave's tremendous verge, 
 
 For thee, too soon, the funeral torch shall burn, 
 For thee, too soon, resound the deathful dirge ! 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 The First Canto having been, for the most part, engaged in general views of 
 the subject, and in discussing the higher order of events — thrones subverted — 
 dynasties extinguished — sanguinary contests between nations and illustrious 
 individuals — the Second Canto presents to the Reader's attention, scenes and 
 characters of a more pacific kind, and is more particular in its details. — The 
 objects and persons noticed, however, lie so widely scattered through that vast 
 dormitory of death, that no regular connected survey of them could be given. 
 —A rapid summary is exhibited of British statesmen — patriots — divines — philo- 
 sophers — artists — and poets — deposited in its chapels and cloisters. — Among 
 those enumerated are — Howard — Russel — Sidney — Chatham — Newton — 
 Camden — Samuel Johnson — Sprat — Barrow — South — Pearse — Kneller — 
 Rubiliac— Bacon — Chaucer — Spenser — Shakspeare — Ben. Jonson — Mil- 
 ton — Cowley — Butler — Dryden — Gray — Solemn apostrophe to their de- 
 parted Spirits — the subversion of the fabric at the sound of the last trumpet — 
 a rapid sketch of the horrors of the last day — the resurrection of the glorious 
 dead to happiness and immortality. 
 
 D 
 
WE ST MINSTER- ABBEY. 
 
 CANTO THE SECOND. 
 
 Once more, imperial Dome ! thy hallow' d bounds, 
 By Cynthia's glimmering beam, the Muse invades, 
 
 Once more the lofty moral strain resounds, 
 In thunder echoed through thy inmost shades. 
 
 How vast the concourse in th r unsparing tomb, 
 How mix'd the visionary group appears ; 
 
 Here virgins, wither' d in their loveliest bloom, 
 There the hoar veteran of an hundred years. * 
 
 * Among the numerous instances of longevity to be met with in these 
 cloisters ought by no means to be omitted Thomas Parr, the Nestor of 
 Britain, buried here Nov. 15th, 1635, aged 152 years. 
 
 
36 WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 
 
 Here regal diadems superbly glow, 
 
 There mitres glitter with serener ray ; 
 The martial palm that decks the victor's brow, 
 
 Mingled with Learning's never-fading bay. 
 
 Albion, as o'er thy shrouded sons I tread, 
 What awful terror does the thought excite ; 
 
 While all thy virtuous, famed, and noble Dead 
 Start from the shades, and sweep before my sight. 
 
 Thy bearded Senators of high renown, 
 
 In Freedom's sacred cause who dauntless stood — 
 
 Defied the scepter'd tyrant's darkest frown, 
 
 And brav'd the axe, that stream' d with patriot blood ; 
 
 Sublimely eloquent ! whose noble rage 
 
 Struck terror thro' the venal courtier train, 
 
 While precepts worthy of th' Athenian Sage,* 
 
 Charm'd in their lofty, bold, impassion'd strain. — 
 
 All whom the proud historic page proclaims 
 
 For high heroic fortitude rever'd ; 
 Thy Howards, Russels, Sidneys — mighty names ! 
 
 Through ages still to British breasts endear'd ; 
 
 * Solon. 
 
WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 37 
 
 Cold, speechless, pale, beneath these roofs recline, 
 Trampled by slaves, by loathing reptiles spurn' d, 
 
 Silent the tongue so fondly deem'd divine, 
 
 The head that counsell'd, and the heart that burn'd ! 
 
 Where are the fires that flash'd from Chatham's eye, 
 The strains that from those lips impetuous flow'd ; 
 
 When rouz'd to rage, when warm'd by Liberty, 
 The great Demosthenes of Britain glow'd. 
 
 By Bacon's genius with new life inspir'd, 
 
 Through the warm marble speaks th' indignant soul ; 
 
 Again the Patriot's kindling breast is fired, 
 While Fancy hears his fervid periods roll. 
 
 Here, thy bold warriors, who, of later age. 
 
 Have spread thy fame through all th' astonish'd world, 
 
 Pointed beneath the Line thy righteous rage, 
 Or at the distant Pole thy thunder hurl'd, 
 
 Have, nerveless, dropp'd that spear whose light'ning ray 
 
 Wither'd the tyrant's lifted arm in fight ; 
 Pour'd on the dungeon slave resistless day, 
 
 And bade him rise in freedom's sacred light. 
 
38 WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 
 
 Where hath not glory wafted Vernon's name ? 
 
 Where, Wager, Warren — are your deeds unsung ? 
 Where, Churchill, Townshend — heirs of deathless 
 fame, 
 
 And Wolfe, the theme of every Briton's tongue ? 
 
 Curs'd civil rage — to glut thy thirsty spear, 
 
 Insatiate fiend, lamented Andre bled ; 
 In life's gay morn, in glory's full career, 
 
 Low to the grave descends his youthful head : 
 
 His fate, with anguish smote the royal breast, 
 Where worth and valour ever find a friend ; 
 
 The starting tear the Monarch's grief confess'd, 
 Who bade yon marble to his name ascend. 
 
 Here sleep the masters of the varied string, 
 
 That all the soul's suspended powers controll'd ; 
 
 Or bade it mount upon the Seraph's wing, 
 
 Rapt Fancy madd'ning as the measures roll'd ! 
 
 Here slumber those whose active spirits soar'd 
 Far as the utmost stretch of daring thought, 
 
 Who knew all arts, all sciences explor'd, 
 
 Now rang'd the stars, and now the centre sought : 
 
WESTMINSTER- ABBEY. 39 
 
 The holy men who taught th' aspiring soul 
 On strong devotion's eagle plume to rise ; 
 
 Who knew the frantic passions to controul, 
 And rais'd our groveling wishes to the skies. 
 
 What shade majestic glides yon ile along, 
 
 Around whose head the rainbow's glories stream ? 
 
 His precepts strike with awe th' astonish' d throng, 
 Who hang, admiring, on the lofty theme. 
 
 'Tis Newton's self unfolds, in raptur'd strain, 
 The flaming track which devious comets run, 
 
 Th' eternal laws that bind the billowy main, 
 And to the centre fix the stedfast sun. 
 
 Shall Camden sleep, forgotten, in the dust, 
 Who from Oblivion's harpy fang could save ? 
 
 Lo ! grateful Isis decks his honour' d bust, 
 And pays that immortality he gave.— • 
 
 Oh ! could mine eyes remotest ages pierce : 
 Like thee, antiquity's dark page explore ; 
 
 Full many a godlike chief should grace my verse, 
 Whose bones unhonour'd spread th' ennobled floor. 
 
40 WESTMINSTER- ABBEY. 
 
 The Muse, slow-winding thro" the clositer'd gloom, 
 Now seeks the grave where laurell'd Johnson lies ; 
 
 With cypress garlands proud to deck his tomb, 
 And mingle with the just her grateful sighs. 
 
 Shall he, whose plaudits fann'd her youthful fire, 
 And bade the spark of high ambition glow ; 
 
 Shall he, who nobly swept the classic lyre, 
 
 Want the bright wreath th' immortal Nine bestow ? 
 
 The sweets of ancient as of modern lore, 
 And all that swell'd the proud historic page, 
 
 His active mind delighted to explore, — 
 Exalted pattern to a thoughtless age ! 
 
 Yet could not these his ardent soul confine, 
 Through nature darted deep his wide survey, 
 
 From yon vast azure to the cavern' d mine, 
 And realms impervious to the eye of day. 
 
 Hence, Superstition, with thy frantic din, 
 
 While Spratt, while Barrow, faith's calm joys display, 
 With artful South, who knew the soul to win 
 
 From earth to heav'n, and shew'd the radiant way. 
 
WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 41 
 
 In Pearce humility and genius join'd, 
 
 The friend, the scholar, and the critic, shone ; 
 
 Let every Muse his bust with garlands bind, 
 And Learning her eternal loss bemoan. 
 
 Illustrious Kneleer ! were thy pencil mine, 
 
 Mine the luxuriance of thy nobler vein, 
 With bolder rage should rush the kindling line, 
 
 And in my song thy labours breathe again. 
 
 While Rubieiac inspires the glowing stone, 
 And calls forth all the wonders of his art, 
 
 In mute astonishment his powers we own, 
 
 Nor check the sigh that heaves the bursting heart. 
 
 Hold, Death,* thy hand, that threaten'd stroke forbear : 
 The stroke yon grief-struck husband would repel ; 
 
 Whose eye distraction marks, whose front despair, 
 Whose veins in agonizing horror swell ! 
 
 Mark as the tide of ebbing life retires, 
 
 Thro' yon fair form what well-feign' d languors creep : 
 While her fond, speechless lord in death admires, 
 
 And clasps her sinking in eternal sleep. 
 
 * Alluding to the beautitul monument erected to the memory of Joseph 
 Gascoigne Nightingale, Esq. and his Lady. 
 
42 WESTMINSTER- ABBEY. 
 
 But, oh ! what Muse, amidst the bold display 
 Of art and genius which these glooms afford, 
 
 Shall paint their efforts in as bold a lay, 
 And all the grandeur of the scene record ! 
 
 My deafen' d ear what sound of horror greets ? 
 
 'Tis the dire night-bird, with her hideous cry, — 
 Against yon arch her boding pinion beats ; 
 
 And to their graves the startled Phantoms fly. 
 
 Stay, honour' d Shadows of the wise and good ! 
 
 No spoiler's ruffian hands your shrines molest ; 
 No midnight murderer's daring steps intrude, 
 
 To violate the grave's eternal rest. 
 
 Oh ! point the way to that sequester'd gloom, 
 Where Britain's bards my tearful homage claim ; 
 
 Profounder darkness shades the lofty dome, 
 And wilder terrors shake my trembling frame. 
 
 Was that pale mass inform'd with heav'nly fire ? 
 
 Genius and Wit, is this your destin'd end ? 
 Favour'd of Phoebus, break thy useless lyre, 
 
 Thy steps already to the grave descend. 
 
WESTMINSTER- ABBEY. 43 
 
 Ah ! vain the Poet's, vain the Painter's art ; 
 
 Fiction to Truth resigns her flow'ry reign ; 
 Nor aught avail' d to ward th' unerring dart, 
 
 The loftiest fancy, or the sweetest strain. 
 
 Yet, stern Destroyer, vaunt not o'er their bier, 
 
 Nor boast o'er art thy gloomy victory ; 
 Though snatch'd by thee from all on earth held dear, 
 
 How many millions have they snatch'd from thee ! 
 
 Fain would the Muse recount each honour' d name, 
 And with reflected lustre deck her page ; 
 
 Sing the bright sources whence she caught her flame, 
 And, while she sings, aspire to kindred rage. 
 
 But, ah ! they want no fame her skill can give, 
 Their monuments sublimer trophies grace ; 
 
 They in their own immortal works survive, 
 Nor can Oblivion's rage those works deface. 
 
 Yet duteous will she pause at Chaucer's shrine, 
 And hail the hoary sire of British verse ; 
 
 To paint each scene of motley life was thine, 
 And many a jocund tale thy lays rehearse. 
 
44 WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 
 
 What though four cent'ries have obscur'd thy rhyme ? 
 
 Still lives each character thy pen pourtray'd ; 
 Thy numbers only feel the force of time, 
 
 The features flourish, though the colours fade. 
 
 Soft o'er the dust of Spenser let me tread, 
 
 Whose magic reed beguil'd the shepherd's hours ; 
 
 Or, through the mazes of enchantment led, 
 
 Through floods, and coral grots, and fairy bow'rs. 
 
 Sweet Bard ! whom Mulla's widow'd tide deplores^ 
 Oh ! skill'd to " lance the heart" with tender woe, 
 
 How do the strains thy Muse of sorrow pours, 
 In kindred anguish melt us as they flow. 
 
 To see thee, by Rebellion's lawless hand, 
 
 From all the joys of love and friendship torn; 
 
 Thy fields the plunder of a barbarous hand, 
 
 And, oh! thyself the haughty Bureeigh's* scorn. 
 
 * The Lord-treasurer Burleigh, buried also in this Abbey, was the 
 implacable enemy of Spenser, whose hatred was farther inflamed by some 
 verses, in which our author beautifully and feelingly describes the anxiety 
 attending a dependance on court favours. 
 
WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 45 
 
 Thee, too, she hails,* alike Misfortune's sport, 
 * Whose artful satire scourg'd a bigot race ; 
 Lov'd, yet neglected, by a venal court, 
 Its giddy monarch's fav'rite and disgrace. 
 
 Master of Nature ! who, with heav'n-taught skill, 
 Knew every passion's secret spring to move ; 
 
 With horror now the throbbing breast to chill, 
 Now rouse to vengeance, and now warm to love : 
 
 Whether we hear thy artful Hamlet rave, 
 
 Or frantic Lear his tale of horror tell, 
 With Ariel mount, or tempt the yawning cave 
 
 Where hags of darkness chaunt the mutter'd 
 spell. 
 
 Oh, Sh akspeare ! great in thy collective might, 
 Beyond each Ancient's loftiest name renown' d ; 
 
 Who shall pursue thee in thy daring flight ? 
 
 Who trace those steps that spurn creation's bound? 
 
 * Butler, who is recorded to have died of want ; but who, at all events, 
 passed his life in extreme distress. 
 
 Ud£cv_ s'-l. <L:-ttl^^^oHu%lr^S 
 
 I .. *- 
 
46 WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 
 
 Immortal shade of lettered Jonson rise ! 
 
 Nor more with jealous fires disdainful burn ; 
 Though Avon's loftier Swan hath snatch' d the prize, 
 
 Still no mean laurel decks thy honour'd urn. 
 
 Rise, and resume thy ancient comic vein, 
 
 As through thy Muse's fav'rite haunts we stray ; 
 
 The sprightly Cowley, too, our train shall join, 
 And give to wit and love the festive day. 
 
 Cimmerian darkness ! shield me from the blaze 
 
 Of glory, strong, ineffable, that flows, 
 From those bright wheels that dart " pernicious rays," 
 
 And bear Messiah on his blasted foes. 
 
 What black dismay, what horrors, shade each brow, 
 But chief th' Apostate's rebel soul appal ! 
 
 As headlong down the yawning gulphs below 
 They rush, — while Chaos bellows in their fall. 
 
 With plume, like Milton's, fervid and sublime, 
 
 As bold in genius and with rival fire, 
 Lo ! Dryden, sweetest of the sons of rhyme, 
 
 " Whose song was music, and whose breast a lyre ;" 
 
WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 47 
 
 Like great Darius fall'n ; — while daring Gray, 
 Though last, not humblest, of the lyric train, 
 
 Soars in his mantle through th' setherial way, 
 
 Nor checks the fiery steed, but gives the loosen' d rein. 
 
 And ye, of meaner flame and humbler wing, 
 
 Whose ashes strew this consecrated ile ; 
 Though dumb each voice, though tuneless ev'ry string, 
 
 Yet has the grave its charms, and death a smile. 
 
 The soul that spurn' d on earth its kindred clay, 
 May now substantiate all its airy dreams, 
 
 Transported through its own Elysium stray, 
 
 Taste nectar' d fruits, and quaff nepenthean streams. 
 
 Sweet be your slumbers as the lays ye sung, 
 May no barbarian rage your tombs deface, 
 
 Till the great chords of nature be unstrung, 
 And lightnings rend this fabric's mighty base. 
 
 Till from on high th' Archangel's trump shall sound, 
 And pour through nature the last loud alarms ; 
 
 Level yon granite columns with the ground, 
 
 And from those breathing sculptures rend their charms. 
 
48 WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 
 
 Then Rome's proud shrine,* like this renown' d in fame^ 
 And vast Sophia's f marble domes shall fall ; 
 
 Give all their glowing jaspers to the flame, 
 
 And rush to atoms with the crumbling ball : — 
 
 Oh ! for a plume of that Archangel's wing, 
 To write, in words of fire, the dreadful tale ; 
 
 Oh ! for that trump's immortal notes to sing 
 The horrors that the burning sphere assail. 
 
 I see that great, that dreadful day advance, 
 
 I hear th' unutterable thunders roll ! 
 One sea of liquid fire the vast expanse, 
 
 While earthquakes rock the globe, from pole to pole. 
 
 Nor only sacred fanes and regal domes 
 
 Sink in the fiery conflagration drown'd; 
 Europe's proud capitals its rage consumes, 
 
 And Asia blazes thro' her farthest bound. 
 
 * St. Peter's. 
 
 •f The great mosque of San eta Sophia at Constantinople, originally built, 
 and long used, as a Christian church. 
 
WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 49 
 
 Down iEtna's sides the flaming torrents rain, 
 Vesuvius all her hoarded treasures pours ; 
 
 High on the storm-beat Andes' burning chain, 
 RenewM, the vast volcanic deluge roars.* 
 
 The rocks dissolve — dissolves the radiant ore, 
 
 Whence genius form'd, sublime, the breathing bust ; 
 
 Paros ! thy shining wonders charm no more, 
 Palmyra's tow' ring fanes are turned to dust. 
 
 Where Nile once foam'd along its rocky bed, 
 
 No columns of eternal granite soar ; 
 The Pyramids have bow'd their giant head, 
 
 Mix'd with the sands of Afric's burning shore. 
 
 O'er emerald rocks f and glowing corals roll'd, 
 
 Where is the sea that whelm' d proud Pharoah's host ; 
 
 Dissolv'd the corals, and the gems behold, 
 
 With all the pearls of Ormus' wealthier coast. 
 
 * The whole range of the Cordelleras, or Andes, so far as hitherto ex- 
 plored, presents to the philosophic eye a series of volcanos, the greater part 
 of them extinguished ages back, but some of them still continuing to vomit 
 forth flames through the eternal snows that encompass their summits. 
 
 f The Emerald island, or Mons Smaragdus of Ptolemy, is situated, 
 according to Bruce, in the Red Sea, in latitude 25° 3' north. 
 
 E 
 
50 WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 
 
 Intensely ardent, as the flames descend, 
 
 The burning mine its latent wealth displays ; 
 
 To their fierce rage the soften' d rubies bend, 
 And all Golconda's diamonds feed the blaze. 
 
 Chili's bright masses feel the searching ray, 
 
 Potosi's mountain rolls a silver tide ; 
 Exhaled in vapour by th' unbounded day, 
 
 Ocean thro' all her cavern' d depths is dried. 
 
 What Muse is equal to th' amazing theme, 
 To paint the pangs of an expiring world, — 
 
 The whirlwind's rage— the lightning's fearful gleam,- 
 The thunders thro' its bursting centre hurl'd. — 
 
 Let nature perish in the storm of fire, 
 
 And art's proud spoils in ruin be o'erthrown ; 
 
 Above the flaming wreck the just aspire, 
 Above the galaxy's refulgent zone. 
 
 And, 'mid the abyss of worlds that blaze on high, 
 Where brighter galaxies their beams display ; 
 
 Beyond the flaming barriers of the sky, 
 
 Faith darts its ken, and wings its soaring way. 
 
WESTMINSTER-ABBEY. 51 
 
 I see the spectres of five thousand years, 
 
 Bards, sages, chiefs, in long succession rise : 
 
 In triumph mount above the burning spheres, 
 Ardent in faith, impatient for the skies. 
 
 Th' Immortals, bending from their thrones of light, 
 Smite their loud harps, and hail th' ascending throng, 
 
 While to the heav'n of heav'ns they urge their flight, 
 Join the bright host, and swell th' eternal song. 
 
AN 
 
 ELEGIAC AND HISTORICAL POEM 
 
AN 
 
 ELEGIAC 
 
 AND 
 
 HISTORICAL POEM, 
 
 SACRED TO 
 
 THE MEMORY AND VIRTUES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 HONOURABLE SIR WILLIAM JONES 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 A RETROSPECTIVE SURVEY 
 
 OF THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE, AND THE 
 MOHAMMEDAN CONQUESTS 
 
 IN ASIA. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 I he subsequent Poem was first published 
 in 1795 ; it was very favourably received 
 by the public, particularly by the oriental 
 part of that public, and has been long out 
 of print. The subject being congenial to 
 that of the former, and the stanza consonant, 
 it is here reprinted at the earnest desire of 
 numerous admirers of the illustrious Charac- 
 ter whom it celebrates. To lament the loss, 
 however, and to display the virtues and ta- 
 lents, eminent as they were, of Sir William 
 Jones, is by no means the sole object of the 
 composition, which exhibits a comprehen- 
 sive view of the progress of Eastern science; 
 
58 
 
 and records, it is hoped, in no unanimated 
 language, the rise and downfall of the great 
 Mohammedan dynasties that have succes- 
 sively devastated Asia : of those sanguinary 
 but transient dynasties, unbounded rapine 
 and oppression constituted the sole basis, 
 and the example of their consequent sub- 
 version, in the present situation of ravaged 
 and subjected Europe, cannot be too forci- 
 bly or repeatedly brought before the view 
 of the reflecting, and, yet unconquer d, 
 
 Bui 
 
 TON 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 General introductory Reflections suited to the Subject; and considering 
 Death, according to the Indian Hypothesis, as only inducing a change of 
 being, and opening new scenes for philosophical research into the ample vo- 
 lume of Nature. Astronomical investigations, a favourite line of science with 
 the deceased, specified as probably affording to the liberated soul the sublimest 
 species of delight. The Genius of ancient Asia descends — the distinguish- 
 ing features of her character — virtue, valour, generosity ; contrasted with 
 those of the Genius of modern Asia — vice, cowardice, cruelty — she pro- 
 nounces the eulogium of her Favourite, and traces the progress of Eastern 
 science according to the arrangement of his own Dissertations before the 
 Asiatic Society. From Persia, as a centre, taking the term in an extended 
 point of view, so as also to include the western parts of Mount Taurus, where 
 the Noachidae first settled, the arts were diffused through Assyria, Phoenicia, 
 India, Egypt, Carthage, Greece, and the Roman Empire. — The horrors of the 
 Mohammedan irruption in the seventh century depicted, and the character 
 of the first propagators of Islamism in Asia, described as fatal to the sciences ; 
 afterwards, relaxing from their sanguinary fury, their descendants became, 
 throughout the East, the patrons and promoters of the arts. — The particular 
 and successive invaders of India enumerated, and their respective characters 
 delineated — Mahmud of Gazna — Gengis — Timur — Shahrock — Ulug Beg — 
 Baber — the Mogul dynasty of India — Akber — Aurungzebe — the decline of 
 that dynasty. The irruption of Nadir Shah — of Abdollah — the subversion 
 of the Mogul empire — the horrid excesses and barbarity of the succeeding 
 period — Freedom and Science revive at Benares, under the auspices of the 
 English ; and, in particular, through the strenuous and indefatigable exertions 
 of Sir William Jones — his character and accomplishments as a man, and as 
 a scholar — as a man distinguished by active piety, and an ardent love of liberty 
 — as a scholar, more particularly eminent for his attainments in astronomy, 
 chronology, antiquities, languages, music, botany. — The Genius of an- 
 cient Asia having finished her eulogium at the tomb of Genius, disap- 
 pears—the Dii Minores, or inferior genii of India, now arise, and pay their 
 devoirs at that tomb — the beam of Aurora appearing, they chaunt the Mith- 
 raic hymn, and are finally absorbed into the beams of the Sun, the fruitful 
 parent of Asiatic superstition. 
 
THE TIME 
 
 in which the incidents in the following Poem are supposed to 
 take place, is the period between sunset and sunrise. 
 
 THE SCENE 
 lies on the banks of the Ganges, at the tomb of departed Genius, 
 
AN 
 
 ELEGIAC AND HISTORICAL POEM, 
 
 &c. 
 
 uhall Genius slumber in the oblivious tomb, 
 
 By no sublime funereal song deplor'd : 
 Shall he, who tower' d on Fancy's loftiest plume, 
 
 Want the sweet dirge o'er beauteous Laura* pour'd ? 
 
 Muses of Asia ! ye who fann' d the fire 
 
 That in your favourite's ardent bosom glow'd, 
 
 With all your flame my kindling soul inspire, 
 As when the exalted strain to Mithraf flow'd. 
 
 * See the elegant Translation of Petrarch's pathetic Elegy on Laura, in 
 the Asiatic Poems of Sir William Jones. 
 
 t Alluding to the Ode to Mithra -, in which the rites of the ancient 
 Sabian superstition are depicted. 
 
62 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OE 
 
 Arise ! — and deeply smite the choral shell ; 
 
 Solemn, yet plaintive, roll the impassioned lay : 
 Like those which shook, of old, the mystic cell, 
 
 And mourned the all-cheering sun's departing ray. 
 
 For, radiant as yon orb's declining beam 
 Flames on illumin'd Taurus' western brow, 
 
 His star, descending, shed a lovely gleam, 
 Whose lustre shall to latest ages glow. 
 
 Hail ! nurse of arts and song — thy hallow' d shore, 
 
 Asia, permit my daring steps to rove ; 
 Thy ancient Magi's vaulted caves explore, 
 
 And pierce the dark, sequester'd, blood-stain'd* grove. 
 
 But chief, where Ganges' rapid billows glide 
 By many a ruin'd tower and mouldering fane, 
 
 That erst the rage of hostile chiefs defied, 
 And echoed with devotion's raptur'd strain ; 
 
 * I have asserted and proved, in the Indian Antiquities, that all the sacred 
 groves of Asia, and particularly those of India (an assertion which, from the 
 general feature of mildness that marks their present character, to some 
 readers seemed incredible) were deeply stained with bestial and human 
 sacrifices. 
 
 
SIR WILLIAM JONES. 63 
 
 Be mine to wander o'er yon gloomy strand, 
 
 Where drooping Science bends o'er Virtue's bier ; 
 
 And, mingling with yon sorrowing, sable band, 
 Heave the deep sigh, and pour the gushing tear. 
 
 Now night's incumbent shadows, deepening round, 
 
 The proud remains of India's glory veil, 
 Pale lightnings skirt the horizon's distant bound ; 
 
 Loud beats the surge, and hollow blows the gale. . 
 
 An anxious horror all my soul pervades, 
 
 I see the awful page of Fate unroll'd ; 
 Darkling I range through death's profoundest shades, 
 
 Futurity's tremendous scenes unfold ! 
 
 Ah ! what are days, or months, or circling years, 
 Of life's dark pilgrimage th' allotted bound ; 
 
 What the vast cycles of revolving spheres, 
 To dread eternity's unmeasur'd round ? 
 
 Roll, mighty periods, your immense career, 
 Be suns, be stars, in flaming ruin hurl'd ! 
 
 Virtue, the sun that warms the moral sphere, 
 Superior glows, nor fears a bursting world. 
 
64 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OP 
 
 Wide as those countless orbs diffuse their blaze, 
 Boundless as space extends, or being flows, 
 
 No spot so dear applauding Heaven surveys, 
 As where the wise and virtuous dead repose. 
 
 Unfading laurels, o'er their sacred urn, 
 Aloft their ever-verdant foliage spread, 
 
 The Muses there eternal incense burn ; 
 
 And rolling spheres their kindliest influence shed. 
 
 On their lov'd bier the morn's refulgent star, 
 Enamour' d, joys to dart its earliest beam ; 
 
 There passing Phoebus checks his rapid car, 
 And lingering Cynthia sheds her latest gleam. 
 
 The loveliest roses of the breathing spring 
 Delight around the hallow'd sod to grow ; 
 
 Bright seraphs hover near with guardian wing ; 
 Light fall the dews, and soft the zephyrs blow. 
 
 Let tyrants, to embalm their loathsome clay, 
 Of half her fragrant gums Arabia drain ; 
 
 Recording brass their martial feats display, 
 
 And venal marbles breathe the flatterer's strain : 
 
SIR WILLIAM JONES. 65 
 
 Thy tomb no trophies wants, illustrious Shade ! 
 
 Nor breathing brass thy virtues to proclaim ; 
 Thine are the radiant palms which never fade, 
 
 A tower of adamant thy deathless name. 
 
 Two rival worlds, to spread thy fame contend, 
 To worth, to learning, and to genius just ; 
 
 And Love's and Friendship's mingling tears descend, 
 To embalm thy memory, and bedew thy dust. 
 
 Immortal Genius ! whose expansive flame, 
 
 In early youth, on Isis' banks I caught ; 
 Whose path I followed up the steeps of fame, 
 
 And, by thy precepts, form'd the ripening thought ; 
 
 Oh, from yon glittering orbs, thy bright abode, 
 Where oft, on earth, thy spirit lov'd to soar — 
 
 Whether thou mount yon lucid star-paved road, 
 And all the burning galaxy explore;* 
 
 * See the Dissertations of Dr. HerscheL, relative to this brilliant portion 
 of the heavens, in the Philosophical Transactions. 
 
66 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 Or, if the northern Wain thy wing detain, 
 And vast Orion's more refulgent beam ; 
 
 Or, darting downward to the southern main, 
 If Hydra* bathe thee in her blazing stream ; 
 
 Where'er thou rov'st, or near the frozen pole, 
 Or the parch'd regions of the fervid line : 
 
 Still on this globe thine eye auspicious roll, 
 
 Nor spurn the trophies heap'd around thy shrine. 
 
 For me, in vain revolve the tuneful spheres, 
 
 No more through heaven their flaming paths I trace, 
 
 Life, one vast howling wilderness appears, ' 
 And darkness wraps creation's beauteous face. 
 
 Ah, what avails it that I caught thy fire, 
 Or with thy ardent spirit dar'd to soar ? 
 
 With thee, ambition's fondest hopes expire, 
 The sacred thirst of glory burns no more. 
 
 * From u<Jwp, water. It is one of the largest and brightest of the southern 
 constellations, and supposed, by its convolutions, to represent the Nile at 
 the period of inundation. 
 
SIR WILLIAM JONES. &J 
 
 Deeper than Gothic glooms o'er Britain hang ; 
 
 Where toiling Science wails her ravish d meed ; 
 And wounded deep, with many a secret pang, 
 
 The agonizing Muse is doom'd to bleed ! 
 
 Ye bards of Britain, break the useless lyre, 
 
 And rend, disdainful, your detested bays ; 
 Who now shall dare to letter' d fame aspire, 
 
 Devotes to penury his hapless days. 
 
 / 
 Hear slighted Butler his hard fate bemoan ! 
 
 O'er famish' d Otway shed the generous tear ! 
 Hark ! frantic Chatterton's expiring groan 
 
 Still vibrates dreadful on the tortur'd ear ! 
 
 And are there who the glittering wreath w T ould tear, 
 Immortal Genius ! from thy sacred brow ; 
 
 Who jealous Heav'n's avenging thunder dare, 
 Whence all the radiant fires of Genius now ? 
 
 Are there who, while they quaff the sparkling wines, 
 And load with Eastern pomp the groaning board, 
 
 Reck not that famish'd worth, unfriended pines, 
 
 And bar, with hearts of steel, th' unbounded hoard ? 
 
68 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH C*F 
 
 Ye wretched pageants of a summer's morn, 
 
 Howe'er inshrin'd in wealth, or thron'd in power ; 
 
 Genius surveys you with retorted scorn ; 
 
 Above your rage th' immortal Muses tower ! 
 
 Can all the joys the genial grape inspires, 
 
 One transport to the throbbing breast impart, 
 
 Like his — who burns with fancy's genuine fires — 
 
 And wakes the strain that warms the bounding heart? 
 
 In dungeon glooms behold the bard sublime ! 
 
 No sufferings can repress his inborn flame ; 
 Darkling, in chains, he pours th' indignant rhyme, 
 
 And wanting all things, throbs alone for fame ! 
 
 He knows not famine's direful pangs to feel, 
 
 iEtherial viands feed his ardent soul ; 
 He looks with scorn on bonds of triple steel, 
 
 Whose spirit soars where worlds unnumber'd roll. 
 
 While thus, with honest pride my bosom glow'd, 
 More vivid stream'd the lightning's dreadful glare, 
 
 In wilder waves tumultuous Ganges flow'd, 
 And rolling thunders shook the turbid air ! 
 
SIR WILLIAM JONES. f)9 
 
 A flood of glory from the expanding skies, 
 Full on the tomb of shrouded Genius play'd ; 
 
 And, floating in the blaze, my raptur'd eyes 
 A form immortal and sublime survey'd* 
 
 The jewell' d chaplet that adorns her brow, 
 Her spear, resplendent as the solar flame, 
 Her cheek, that shames the morning's purple glow, 
 The sovereign Genius of the East proclaim ! 
 
 Not that dire spectre, who, in later days, 
 
 In Asia's courts rears high her pageant shrine, 
 
 Who spurns the martial plume, and loves to blaze 
 In waste of diamonds from Golconda's mine : 
 
 Oh, not that bloated monster, stain' d with blood, 
 Who on pale harams vents her murderous rage ; 
 
 To screaming infants tends th' impoison'd food, 
 And to the bow-string dooms enfeebled age : 
 
 That barbarous, hell-born fiend, by grim Despair 
 On Murder, at the midnight hour, begot — 
 
 Far hence remove her torch's baleful glare, 
 Nor let its blaze profane this hallow'd spot I 
 
70 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 But she of elder birth, whose righteous sway 
 Asia's undaunted sons exulting own'd, 
 
 When Liberty diffused her halcyon day, 
 
 And Virtue rul'd the helm with Cyrus thron'd. 
 
 I know her by her lofty ostrich plume, 
 
 That dreadful wav'd on Lydia's wealthy plain, 
 
 When tyranny at Sardis found a tomb, 
 
 And haughty Babel wept her myriads slain. 
 
 I know her by her rich emblazon' d shield, 
 
 Round whose vast orb the radiant signs are roll'd. 
 
 Here Mithra's Lion spurns the blazing field ; 
 There raging Taurus flames in sculptur'd gold. 
 
 In all the charms of martial beauty bright, 
 
 But still with brighter bays by Science crown'd, 
 
 The goddess bends to earth her rapid flight, 
 And consecrates to fame the hallow' d ground. 
 
 " Favour'd of Heav'n !" her awful voice exclaim'd, 
 " Oh ! thou, by two admiring worlds deplored, 
 
 Who, with the love of Eastern lore inflam'd, 
 To its sublimest heights unrivall'd soar'd. 
 
SIR WILLIAM JONES. 7^ 
 
 The brightest palms which Asia yields be thine., 
 
 Securely slumber on her peaceful coast ; 
 Thy dust shall mix with chiefs of proudest line, 
 
 No nobler dust her gorgeous shrines can boast. 
 
 Thy genius dar'd the secret springs explore 
 
 Whence ancient Wisdom drank the copious stream ; 
 
 Diffus'd far hence to many a barbarous shore, 
 And regions glowing with the western beam. 
 
 Where the dark cliffs of rugged Taurus rise, 
 From age to age by blasting lightnings torn, 
 
 In glory bursting from th' illumin'd skies, 
 Fair Science pour'd her first auspicious morn. 
 
 The hoary Parthian seers, who watch'd by night 
 The eternal fire in Mithra's mystic cave — 
 
 Emblem sublime of that primeval light 
 
 Which to yon sparkling orbs their lustre gave — 
 
 Exulting saw its gradual splendours break, 
 
 And swept, symphonious. all their warbling lyres, 
 
 'Mid Scythia's frozen glooms the Muses wake, 
 While happier India glows with all their fires. 
 
7^ AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 From that stupendous tower in song renown' d, 
 Rear'd in the centre of her vast champaign, 
 
 Assyria, 'raptur'd, eyed the blue profound, 
 
 And class'd, in dazzling groups, the starry train ; 
 
 Phoenicia, spurning Asia's bounding strand, 
 By the bright pole-star's steady radiance led, * 
 
 Bade to the winds her daring sails expand, 
 And fearless plough'd old Ocean's stormy bed. 
 
 The race who, when the burning dog-star rose, 
 With thundering paeans shook old Nilus' shore ; 
 
 Now view'd a brighter dawn its beams disclose, 
 And drank, in copious draughts, the Indian lore. 
 
 From Egypt, roll'd in many a winding stream, 
 To Greece the tide of Eastern science flow'd ; 
 
 Carthage exulting hail'd its rising beam ; 
 
 In Rome its splendours, by reflection, glow'd. 
 
 * The discovery of the pole-star is ascribed to the Phoenicians, whence 
 it is often emphatically called Phgenice. 
 
SIR WILLIAM JONES. 73 
 
 Frarttic with bigot rage, with blood defil'd, 
 A gorgeous crescent gleaming on his crest ; 
 
 What furious demon, from Arabia's wild, 
 Hurls desolation through the ravag'd East ? 
 
 A sabre drench' d with infant gore he waves, 
 
 His eyes in opium's wildest frenzy roll ; 
 And while of sacred rites the maniac raves, 
 
 Lust and revenge pollute his guilty soul : 
 
 O'er Persia wide his myriad host he pours, 
 Burning for spoil, for human blood athirst ; 
 
 Resistless, India, on thy fertile shores, 
 
 Tossing their flaming brands, his legions burst. 
 
 On Bactria's * hills are quench'd the sacred fires, 
 The Mithriac priests are on their altars slain ; 
 
 The proud Sassanian dynasty expires, 
 
 And Asia bends to Othman's baleful reign. 
 
 * The principal fire-temple of the Zoroastrian sages, and the residence 
 of the Archimagus, was at Balkh, a city situated on the confines of Persia, 
 &c. the capital of the ancient Bactrk. Balkh was taken in the 27th year of 
 the Hegira, and of the Christian sera 647, by the Arabian general Abdallah 
 
74 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 Through all her bounds the outcries of despair, 
 The shrieks of violated beauty rise ; 
 
 While, blasted by his crescent's dreadful glare, 
 The bloom of Science and of Genius dies. 
 
 Barbarian, pause ! nor with remorseless rage 
 The boast of Egypt to oblivion doom ; 
 
 Ah, spare the toil of many a letter' d sage, 
 
 Nor bid devouring fire their works consume ! * 
 
 In vain I plead ; with sacrilegious flame 
 The glowing baths of Alexandria blaze ; 
 
 Omar, eternal curses brand thy name, 
 
 And keenest lightnings fire thy wither' d bays ! 
 
 Ebn Amer, when that fire-temple was destroyed, and the miserable Persees 
 fled into Guzzurat, where, to this day, they have a fire-temple ; of which 
 species of building the reader may see an engraving in the second volume 
 of Indian Antiquities. Concerning Balkh, and its fate, the reader may con- 
 sult Al Makin Hist. Saracen, p. 37, edited by Erpenius, 1725; and Golius, 
 in his notes upon the Astronomy of Alfraganus, p. 176. Edit, quarto, 1669, 
 
 * It should be here remembered, that Egypt was anciently considered, 
 if not as a part of Asia, at least as most intimately connected with it by the 
 indissoluble bonds of science and commerce. The Alexandrian library, 
 burnt by the detestable mandate of Omar, contained 700,000 volumes, 
 which served to heat the baths of that city, amounting to 4000 in number, 
 for six months together. 
 
SIR WILLIAM JONES. ?5 
 
 With kindred rage, on India's ravag'd plain, 
 Stern Mahmoud in a storm of fire descends, 
 
 And many a rich and venerable fane 
 Beneath his desolating fury bends. 
 
 Ah ! not from glory's generous ardour flows 
 The impetuous transport of his headlong zeal : 
 
 That breast with all the rage of avarice glows, 
 That bosom Superstition's furies steel. 
 
 Bath'd in the streaming blood of half her kings, 
 
 And borne triumphant o'er their trampled thrones, • 
 
 On plunder'd Delhi's boundless spoil he springs, 
 And proud Canouge beneath his vengeance groans. 
 
 Insatiate still for India's treasur'd ore, 
 
 His rapid flight the royal vulture bends, 
 To where, on rich Cambay's far distant shore, 
 
 The vast Sumnaut its gorgeous front extends. 
 
 In vain the priests that guard the sacred shrine, 
 The unconquer'd arm of guardian Veeshnu boast, 
 
 And from the towers, inflam'd with rage divine, 
 Thunder Heaven's vengeance on the myriad host. 
 
?6 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 Heaven's awful rage the fierce assailants brave, 
 Burst the strong gates, and scale the lofty walls ; 
 
 The priests plunge headlong in the o'erwhelming wave, 
 And India's last proud sanctuary falls. 
 
 And now his raptur'd eye a fane surveys 
 
 That ransack' d Nature's dazzling treasury seems; 
 
 With plates of gold the burnish'd ceilings blaze, 
 One mass of jewels the rich altar gleams.* 
 
 Nor proffer' d gold, nor glowing gems suffice, 
 
 Great Veeshnu's bust his ruffian hands profane ; 
 
 Rise, dreadful god, in all thy fury rise, 
 And give to vengeance his devoted train ! 
 
 As o'er yon sultry waste his legions toil, 
 
 Who shall the pangs of burning thirst assuage ? 
 
 The camels faint beneath their guilty spoil ; 
 
 Through all the camp despair and madness rage • 
 
 * See a full account of this event, and this sumptuous temple, extracted 
 from Arabian writers, in Indian Antiquities, vol. III. p. 369. 
 
SIR WILLIAM JONES. 77 
 
 Ye hostile clarions ! cease mine ear to rend, 
 
 The Arabian despot sheathes his blood-stain'd spear ; 
 
 Their genial beams the cherish' d arts extend, 
 Their drooping heads the trampled Muses rear. 
 
 A race less fierce the Eastern sceptres wield, 
 By worth distinguished, as for science fam'd, 
 
 Who toil for glory in a bloodless field ; 
 
 With loftier views, with nobler fires inflam'd. 
 
 In the bright noon of their meridian power, 
 Genius, the daring eagle, upward springs ; 
 
 Not bolder did the undazzled Theban* tower, 
 Nor Mantua's f swan expand her soaring wings. 
 
 What blazing orb o'er Scythia's hills afar, 
 Portentous rises with ensanguin'd beam ; 
 
 'Tis mighty Gengis' inauspicious star, 
 Convulsing Asia with its baleful gleam ! 
 
 Resistless, fearless, cruel as their clime, 
 I see the Tartars burst their frozen bound ; 
 
 Unnumber'd banners wave in air sublime, 
 
 While crimson torrents smoke along the ground. 
 
 * Pindar. t Virgil. 
 
7& AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 Dark as the driving swarms of locusts spread, 
 Full many a league their gloomy front extends 
 
 The trembling earth is blasted where they tread, 
 And each affrighted Muse her laurel rends ! 
 
 The blood of Gengis glowing in his veins, 
 
 And bearing still a more terrific lance, 
 The imperial savage * of the Sogdian plains 
 
 Now bids his squadrons to the field advance. 
 
 * Timur Bec. There are two very celebrated, and very different histo- 
 ries, in the Oriental languages, of this renowned warrior, who was born at 
 Cash, in the beautiful valley, or plain of Sogd, the ancient Sogdiana. The 
 one is in Persian, and was composed under the inspection of Timur himself, 
 by the Mullah Sheriffeddin Ali, a native of Yezd in Persia, whence he is 
 frequently denominated Ali Yezdi. The other is in Arabic, and was com- 
 piled by Ahmed Ebn Arabshah, a native of Syria, and a determined enemy 
 of the hero whose exploits he recorded. Both of them are written with all 
 the pomp and elegance of which their respective languages are capable, and 
 take their complexion from the temper of their writers, and the circum- 
 stances under which they were compiled. <c In the first," says Sir William 
 Jones, iC the Tartarian conqueror is represented as a liberal, benevolent, and 
 illustrious prince ; in the second, as deformed and impious, of a low birth, 
 and detestable principles." Preface to Nadir Shah, p. 22. I have both 
 these histories in my possession. That of Ebn Arabshah, edited by Manger, 
 Arabic and Latin, in three volumes quarto, was imported by myself for 
 the history of the Mohammedan sovereigns of Hindostan. From these 
 two histories, compared throughout with Timur's Institutes, edited by Dr. 
 White and Major Davy, I have endeavoured to draw the true portrait of 
 that ferocious hero ; for whatever might have been his own liberality to 
 the fawning sycophants of his court, and however illustrious he might 
 
SIR WILLIAM JONES. 7^ 
 
 Like Nimrod, skill'd to guide the bloody chace, 
 His ravening lust unbounded carnage feeds ; 
 
 By thousands fall the hapless sylvan race ; 
 By myriads man, his nobler victim, bleeds. 
 
 Frantic through Asia's ravag'd vales they fly, 
 
 And wrap her towering capitals in fire ! 
 Beneath their spears the flower of Persia die, 
 
 While age and beauty crowd the funeral pyre. 
 
 But chief on India bursts the o'er whelming tide, 
 India still doom'd to feel the oppressor's rage; 
 
 Through seas of blood his crimson'd squadrons ride, 
 'Midst hecatombs of gasping slain engage. 
 
 With yon deep groan uncounted myriads fell ! — 
 And now the flames from burning Delhi rise ; 
 
 Loud and more loud resounds the deepening yell ; 
 And vengeance, vengeance ! echoes to the skies. 
 
 have been in arms, not all the laboured encomiums of the Persian historian 
 shall ever convince me, that the monster who could order 100,000 captive 
 Hindoos to be massacred in cold blood, under the walls of Delhi, and insist 
 upon his orders being rigorously executed, could ever possess one spark of 
 benevolence. 
 
80 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 Reflection shudders at his sanguine deeds ! 
 
 Fly swift, ye hours ; roll round those halcyon times, 
 When to yon throne his lion race succeeds, 
 
 Brave as their sire, untainted by his crimes. 
 
 Arouse, ye Muses, burst your sevenfold chains, 
 Smite with immortal rage your noblest wires ; 
 
 The great, the brave, the virtuous Shahroc reigns, 
 The demon of revenge and blood expires ! 
 
 Wide as the circle of his vast domains, 
 
 That know no limits, save the horizon's bound ; 
 
 His sovereign power your injur' d rights maintains, 
 And spreads the flame he feels diffusive round ! 
 
 From her deep slumber of three thousand years 
 The trampled Genius of Assyria wakes ; 
 
 Again her head exulting Science rears ; 
 
 Again thy radiant morn, fair Freedom, breaks ! 
 
 Majestic, lo ! on Tigris' hallow'd shore, 
 A second Babel seems the skies to threat ; 
 
 Whence Bagdad's seers yon blazing vault explore, 
 And trace the mystic characters of fate. 
 
SIR WILLIAM JONES. 81 
 
 Lo ! Samarcand, a city new to fame, 
 
 Temples and towers of matchless grace displays ; 
 
 Proud cloister' d domes the cherish'd arts proclaim, 
 While lofty gnomons mark the solar rays.* 
 
 Thou too, whose daring genius could extend 
 O'er heaven's majestic arch the mighty line ; 
 
 Brave Tartar, f hail ! thy native skies ascend, 
 And, 'midst thy own Fix'd Stars, for ever shine. 
 
 With pen as brilliant as his conquering sword, 
 A double laurel decks great Baber's brows : 
 Radiant the palms embattled fields afford, 
 
 More radiant still the heavenly Muse bestows. 
 
 The loudest notes her martial trump can pour, 
 To mighty Akber's praise let glory sound ! 
 
 Waft them, ye winds, round every distant shore, 
 Diffuse them wide as earth's remotest bound. 
 
 * I have proved, in the third volume of the Indian Antiquities, that all 
 the obelisks of the ancient Egyptians were intended as gnomons, and there- 
 fore sacred to Osiris. 
 
 f Ulug Beg, the great astronomer, author of that stupendous work, the 
 Tabulae Fixarum Stellarum, edited by Hyde. 
 
 G 
 
82 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 For all the virtues of his noble line, 
 
 In Akber beaming their concenter' d ray, 
 
 With all the fires of native genius join ; 
 And India glories in his righteous sway. 
 
 Casi,* once more her sacred fires renews, 
 
 With Veeshnu's praise a thousand temples ring ; 
 
 On Naugracut's vast range the soaring Muse 
 Smites, 'midst eternal snows, the varied string. 
 
 Exalted high on India's jewell'd throne, 
 Wisdom with hoary faith again unites : 
 
 No more in chains her vanquish' d princes groan, 
 Nor noble Brahmins wail their ravish'd rights. 
 
 Happy as when her ancient sovereigns reign'd, 
 Rajahs of grey renown, and dear to fame ; 
 
 No more her Soobahs of their youth are drain' d, 
 Nor shrieking virgins feed the victor's flame. 
 
 * The ancient name of Benares. The latter name does not seem to be 
 of very remote date in the annals of India ; it is called in the Ayeen Akbery, 
 Baranassey, a word formed of Birnah and Assey, the names of the two 
 branches of the Ganges, between which it is situated. It is also in Sanscreet 
 records denominated Varanes. 
 
SIR WILLIAM JONES. 83 
 
 But cherish' d by the laws her Brahma gave, 
 
 She sees her bursting granaries o'erflow ; 
 Unnumber'd navies stem the boisterous wave, 
 
 Unbounded treasures in her coffers glow- 
 Thrice happy age ; how soon in blood to close ; 
 
 Lo ! Fate her sable banner wide unfurls ! 
 A chief, * more fierce than all her ancient foes, 
 
 O'er her vast Deccan flames and ravage hurls. 
 
 Nor on rich Deecan's wealthy plains alone, 
 
 I see the storm on hallow' d Casi burst ; 
 Her altars quench' d, her plunder' d fanes o'erthrown, 
 
 Her hoary grandeur trampled low in dust ! 
 
 Infuriate Bigot to a barbarous creed ! 
 
 Think' st thou the gods, whose fires those altars bore, 
 Will unreveng'd behold this impious deed, 
 
 Nor on thy race their hoarded fury pour ? 
 
 By blood thy rebel arm the sceptre gain'd, 
 
 And, Tyrant, wide the crimson tide shall flow ! 
 
 Dread ministers of Heaven's just wrath ordain'd, 
 
 Rise, ruthless Seyds, strike home th' avenging blow ! f 
 
 * Aurengzebe. 
 
 f Aurengzebe, who died in the year 1707* left the richest and most 
 
84 AN ELEGY OF THE DEATH OF 
 
 Hark ! on Carmania's hills the trumpets sound, 
 And the fierce Afghan tribes to arms invite ; 
 
 The thundering war steed spurns the trembling ground, 
 And neighs impatient for the promis'd fight. 
 
 To conquest by resistless Nadir led, 
 
 From Candahar they rush impetuous down : 
 
 High on the tyrant's burnish'd crest display'd 
 
 Gleam the rich spoils of Persia's plunder'd crown. 
 
 'Gainst veteran warriors, nerv'd with triple steel, 
 Thy millions, Hindostan, in vain advance ; 
 
 No more thy Rajahs burn with patriot zeal, 
 No more, enervate, wield the ponderous lance. 
 
 powerful empire in the world to be rent asunder and convulsed to its very 
 centre, by the ambitious contentions of his surviving offspring. India had 
 not for ages seen two such immense armies assembled on her plains, as those 
 which accompanied to the field his sons Azem Shah and Mahommed 
 Mauzim, the rival competitors for his vacant throne. Both those princes 
 perished in the contest for the sovereignty. The black and aggravated 
 crimes, by which the father himself ascended to empire, seem to have been 
 avenged by heaven in the successive destruction of his immediate descen- 
 dants. Those formidable omrahs, the Seyds, afterwards successively de- 
 throned or murdered five sovereigns of the royal house of Hindostan. See 
 Fraser's Moghol Emperors, page 57.. 
 
SIR WILLIAM JONES. 85 
 
 Invincible the iron phalanx moves T 
 
 Dreadful as wasting storms, or raging fire ; 
 
 Delhi, again, a victor's vengeance proves, 
 Again her butcher' d sons in heaps expire I 
 
 Though all Golconda flames before their eyes, 
 Not all Golconda can appease their rage ; 
 
 Unmov'd they hear the screaming infants' cries,. 
 Unaw'd the curses of expiring age ! 
 
 Come, fierce Abdollah, on her destin'd walls 
 Heaven's last avenging, dreadful phial pour ! — 
 
 'Tis done : the imperial house of Timur falls \ 
 India, thy sun descends to rise no more I 
 
 Now darkness, brooding with expanded wings, 
 Wraps yon vast empire in its deathful shade ; 
 
 The Muses rush from their polluted springs ^ 
 And Science flies , appall' d, her favourite glade : 
 
 Triumphant Slaughter her ensanguin'd car 
 O'er trampled altars rolls, and ruin'd fanes ; 
 
 Wide through her vallies howls the storm of war, 
 And famine in the bowers of Eden reigns.* 
 
 * The Douab, or interamnian region of Upper Hindostan, once the 
 
86 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 Dear as to dungeon slaves the solar gleam, 
 Or wretches doom'd to dig the buried ore, 
 
 On raptur'd Casi dawns the gladsome beam, 
 Which British freedom, British science pour. 
 
 To chase the tenfold gloom, my Jones, was thine, 
 To cheer the Brahmin, and to burst his chains ; 
 
 To search for latent gems the Sanscreet mine, 
 And wake the fervour of her ancient strains. 
 
 For oh ! what pen shall paint with half thy fire, 
 The power of Music on the impassion'd soul, 
 
 When the great masters waked the Indian lyre, 
 And bade the burning song electric roll ? * 
 
 The mystic veil that wraps the hallow' d shrines 
 Of India's deities, 'twas thine to rend ; 
 
 With brighter fires each radiant altar shines, 
 To Nature's awful God those fires ascend. 
 
 most fertile spot of the richest country under heaven, has, by repeated wars 
 of recent years, been converted into a perfect desert. 
 
 * The impressive title of one of the most ancient Sanscreet treatises on 
 music is, " The Sea of Passions." See our Author's animated account of 
 the Indian Music, in the Asiatic Researches, vol. II. p. 55. 
 
SIR WILLIAM JONES. 87 
 
 Sound the deep conch; dread Veeshnu's power proclaim, 
 And heap with fragrant woods the blazing urn ; 
 
 I see sublime Devotion's noblest flame 
 
 'Midst Superstition's glowing embers burn ! 
 
 'Twas thine, with daring wing, and eagle eye^ 
 To pierce antiquity's profoundest gloom ;* 
 
 To search the dazzling records of the sky, 
 And bid the stars the sacred page illume. f 
 
 Nor did the instructive orbs of heaven, alone, 
 
 Absorb thy soul 'mid yon ethereal fields ; 
 To thee the vegetable world was known, 
 
 And all the blooming tribes the garden yields ; 
 
 From the tall cedar on the mountain's brow, 
 Which the fierce tropic storm in vain assails, 
 
 Down to the humblest shrubs that beauteous blow, 
 And scent the air of Asia's fragrant vales. 
 
 * See the two profound Dissertations on the Indian Chronology, in Asiatic 
 Researches, vol. II. p. Ill, and 389. 
 
 f Consult various astronomical passages in the treatises above-mentioned, 
 and the discourse on the Lunar Year of the Hindus, in the same publication, 
 vol. III. p. 249. They are all made subservient to the cause of the national 
 theology, and the illustration of the grand truths delivered in the sacred 
 writings. 
 
88 AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 But talents — fancy— ardent, bold, sublime- 
 Unbounded science — form'd thy meanest fame; 
 
 Beyond the grasp of death, the bound of time, 
 On wings of fire Religion wafts thy name. 
 
 And long as stars shall shine, or planets roll, 
 y To kindred virtue shall that name be dear ; 
 Still shall thy genius charm the aspiring soul, 
 And distant ages kindle at thy bier." 
 
 Thus spake the Power ; and in the focal blaze, 
 Her dazzling shrine, her awful beauties veil'd ; 
 
 From harps celestial flow'd immortal lays, 
 Ambrosial sweets my ravish' d sense regal' d. 
 
 And now, slow-rising on their favourite shore, 
 Millions of shadowy forms around me mov'd,* 
 
 Unfading garlands in their hands they bore, 
 
 And, weeping, strew'd them on the urn they lov*d. 
 
 * The Dii Minores, or inferior genii of India ; being all symbolical re- 
 presentations, either of the powers of nature, or the attributes of God. See 
 an ample account of them and their functions, in the Indian Mythology, in 
 the Discourse on the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India, in Asiatic Researches^ 
 vol. II. p. 98. 
 
SIR WILLIAM JONES. 89 
 
 Sweet was the harmonious dance, and sweet the dirge 
 Whose plaintive warbling lull'd the enraptur'd stream, 
 
 Till o'er the eastern mountains' farthest verge, 
 Aurora, rising, shot her golden beam : 
 
 Instant, with shouts, they hail'd returning light, 
 And sang the Power that rolls the radiant year ; 
 
 Then, bending towards the sun their rapid flight, 
 Plung'd in the centre of his burning sphere. 
 
THE 
 
 LOTOS OF EGYPT. 
 
THE 
 
 LOTOS OF EGYPT 
 
 JiiMBLEM sublime of that primordial Pow'r 
 That on the vast abyss of chaos moved ;* 
 
 What pen shall paint thy charms, majestic Flow'r ! 
 By mortals honour'd, and by Gods beloved. 
 
 From ^Ethiopia's lofty mountains roll'd, 
 Where Nile's proud stream through gladden' d Egypt 
 pours, 
 
 In raptur'd strains thy praise was hymn'd of old, 
 And still resounds on Ganges' faithful shores. 
 
 * It is the nature of this celebrated aquatic plant to keep its expanded 
 leaves perpetually floating on the surface of the water. The flower gradu- 
 ally unfolds itself with the rising, and closes with the setting Sun. 
 
94 THE LOTOS OP EGYPT. 
 
 Within thy fair Corolla's full-blown bell,* 
 Long since th' immortals fix'd their fond abode ; 
 
 There day's bright Source, Osiris, lov'd to dwell, 
 While by his side enamour'd Isis glow'd. 
 
 Hence, not unconscious to his orient beam, 
 At dawn's first blush thy shining petals spread ; 
 
 Drink deep th' effulgence of the solar stream, 
 And, as he mounts, still brighter glories shed. 
 
 When, at their noontide height, his fervid rays 
 In a bright deluge burst on Cairo's spires, 
 
 With what new lustre then thy beauties blaze, 
 Full of the God, and radiant with his fires ! 
 
 Brilliant thyself in stole of dazzling white , 
 Thy sister-plants more gaudy robes infold ; 
 
 This flames in purple, — that, intensely bright, 
 Amid th' illumin'd waters hums in gold.f 
 
 * To readers not conversant with the Linnsean vocabulary, it may be ne- 
 cessary to observe, that, by the Corolla, is meant that more delicate inte- 
 rior covering formed of the flowers of the plant, while its exterior covering, 
 or Calyx, is formed of its leaves. 
 
 t The Lotos of Egypt, the proper subject of this poem, has a beautiful 
 white flower. There are two other species \ the one bears a bright purple, 
 the other an intensely-yellow flower. 
 
THE LOTOS OF EGYPT. 95 
 
 To brave the tropic's fiery beam is thine, 
 Till in the distant west his splendors fade ; 
 
 Then, too, thy beauty and thy fire decline, 
 With morn to rise, in lovelier charms array'd. 
 
 Thus, from Arabia borne, on golden wings, 
 The Phoenix on the Sun's bright Altar dies ;* 
 
 But, from his flaming bed, refulgent, springs, 
 And cleaves, with bolder plume, the sapphire skies. 
 
 What mystic treasures, in thy form conceal' d, 
 Perpetual transport to the sage supply ; 
 
 Where Nature, in her deep designs reveal' d, 
 Awes wondering man, and charms th' exploring eye. 
 
 In thy prolific vase, and fertile seeds 
 Are traced her grand regenerative pow'rs ;f 
 
 Life, springing warm, from loath'd putrescence breeds, 
 And lovelier germs shoot forth, and brighter flow'rs. 
 
 * The Phoenix was considered, anciently, as a symbol of the Lotos ; both 
 springing to new life from the bed on which their ashes were deposited. 
 
 t This plant, says a great mythologist, grows in the water ; and amongst 
 its broad leaves, puts forth a flower, in the centre of which is formed the 
 seed-vessel, shaped like a bell or inverted cone, and punctuated on the top 
 
96 THE LOTOS Or EGYPT* 
 
 Nor food to the enlighten' d mind alone ; 
 Substantial nutriment thy root bestow'd;* 
 
 In famine's vulture fangs did Egypt groan, 
 From thy rich, bounteous, hornf abundance flow'd. 
 
 Hence the immortal race in Thebes revered 
 Thy praise the theme of endless rapture made, 
 
 Thy image on a hundred columns rear'd, 
 And veil'd their altars with thine hallow'd shade. 
 
 with little cavities or cells, in which the seeds grow to maturity, decay, and 
 again shoot forth : for, the orifices of these cells being too small to let the 
 seeds drop out, when ripe, new plants germinate in the places where they 
 were formed, the bulb of the vessel serving as a matrice to nourish them, 
 until they acquire such a degree of magnitude as to burst it open and release 
 themselves; after which, like other aquatic weeds, they take root wherever 
 the current deposits them. This plant, therefore, being thus productive of 
 itself y and vegetating from its own matrice, without being fostered in the 
 earth, was naturally adopted as the symbol of the productive power of the 
 Deity upon the waters. 
 
 # The Egyptians fed on the roots, which are said by Herodotus, to grow 
 to the size and form of an apple ; and they made a kind of bread of the seeds, 
 dried in the sun, and afterwards baked. Herodot. Euterpe, cap. 92. 
 
 t The stalk and seed-cup together nearly resemble a cornucopia, and 
 might possibly have furnished the ancients with their first idea of that sculp- 
 tural ornament : it is far more likely to have done so than the horn of Amal- 
 thea, a more recent Greek fable. 
 
THE LOTOS OP EGYPT. 9^ 
 
 But, far beyond the bounds of Afric borne, 
 Thy honours flourish'd 'mid Thibetian snows ; 
 
 Thy flow'rs the Lama's gilded shrines adorn,* 
 And JBrahme and Buddha on thy stalk repose. 
 
 Where'er fair Science dawn'd on Asia's shore, 
 Where'er her hallow'd voice Devotion raised, 
 
 We see thee graven on the glowing ore, 
 And on a thousand sparkling gems emblaz'd. 
 
 Child of the Sun, why droops thy with'ring head 
 While high in Leo flames thy radiant sire ! 
 
 With Egypt's glory is thy glory fled, 
 And with her genius quench'd thy native fire ? 
 
 * The principal deity in Thibet, Mr. Turner informs us, is the same as 
 the Buddha of Bengal. The Hindoos make frequent pilgrimages to the 
 sacred places in Thibet, and the Thibetians regard and visit, with holy re- 
 verence, Benares and other sacred cities of Hindostan. In the ninth Indian 
 Avatar, Buddha is represented sitting in the expanded calyx of the Lotos, 
 as Brahma, in the Hindoo cosmogony, is also pourtiayed on those sculptures 
 that represent what is directly denominated the Lotos creation, to distin- 
 guish it from other creations in their extensive system of the formation and 
 destruction of worlds. The sacred plant of the Ganges, however, in some 
 respects differs from that of the Nile. Still the object of veneration is the 
 Lotos. Whence has arisen this marked resemblance in the theological opi- 
 nions of two nations, so remote from each other ; whence, but by tradition 
 from their common ancestors. 
 
 H 
 
98 THE LOTOS OF EGYPT. 
 
 Ah ! direr than her desert's burning wind, * 
 Gaul's furious legions sweep yon ravag'd vale ; 
 
 Death stalks before, grim Famine howls behind, 
 And screams of horror load the tainted gale. 
 
 Nile's crimson'd waves, with blood polluted roll, 
 Her groves, her fanes, devouring fire consumes ; 
 
 But mark, — slow rising near the distant pole, 
 A sudden splendour all her shores illumes. 
 
 Fatal to Gaul, 'tis Britain's Rising Star 
 That, in the south, the bright ascendant gains, 
 
 Resplendent as her Sirius shines from far, 
 And with new fervours fires the Libyan plains. 
 
 A race, as Egypt's ancient warriors brave, 
 For her insulted sons indignant glows, 
 
 Defies the tropic storm, the faithless wave, 
 And hurls destruction on their haughty foes. 
 
 Exulting to his source old Nilus hears 
 The deep'ning thunder of the British line, 
 
 Again its lovely head the Lotos rears, 
 Again the fields in rainbow glories shine. 
 
 * This poem was composed about the period of the invasion of Egypt by 
 the French. 
 
THE LOTOS OF EGYPT. 99 
 
 Still wider, beauteous plant, thy leaves extend, 
 Nor dread the eye of an admiring Muse ; 
 
 In union with the rising song ascend, 
 Spread all thy charms, and all thy sweets diffuse ! 
 
 Of that bold race, beneath the Pleiads born, 
 To chant thy praise a northern bard aspires, 
 
 Nor with more ardour, erst, at early dawn, 
 The Theban minstrels smote their votive lyres. 
 
 For, oh ! can climes th' excursive genius bound ? 
 No, — 'mid Siberia bursts the heav'n-taught strain ; 
 
 At either pole the Muses' songs resound, 
 And snows descend and whirlwinds rage in vain. 
 
 Four thousand summers have thy pride survey'd, 
 Thy Pharoahs moulder in their marble tombs ; 
 
 Oblivion's wings the pyramids shall shade, 
 But thy fair family unfading blooms. 
 
 Still, 'mid these ruin'd tow'rs, admir'd, rever'd, 
 Wave high thy foliage, and secure expand ; 
 
 These vast but crumbling piles by man were rear'd, 
 But thou wert form'd by an Immortal hand. 
 
100 THE LOTOS OF EGYPT. 
 
 With Nature's charms alone thy charms shall fade, 
 With Being's self thy beauteous tribe decline ; 
 
 Oh ! living, may thy flow'rs my temples shade, 
 And decorate, when dead, my envied shrine. 
 
HINDA; 
 
 AN ARABIAN ELEGY. 
 
HINDA; 
 
 AN ARABIAN ELEGY. 
 
 .Led by the star of evening's guiding fires, 
 
 That shone serene on Aden's lofty spires, 
 
 Young Agib trod the solitary plain, 
 
 Where groves of spikenard greet his sense in vain. 
 
 In wealth o'er all the neighbouring swains supreme, 
 
 For manly beauty, ev'ry virgin's theme ; 
 
 But no repose his anxious bosom found, 
 
 Where sorrow cherish' d an eternal wound. 
 
 The frequent sigh, wan look, and frantic starts 
 
 Spoke the despair that prey'd upon his heart. 
 
 The haunts of men no more his steps invite, 
 
 Nor India's treasures give his soul delight. 
 
 In fields and deep'ning shades he sought relief, 
 
 And thus discharged the torrent of his grief. 
 
 ' Ye happier youths ! ye sportive nymphs ! who rove, 
 ■ In life's enchanting spring, the bow'rs of love, 
 
104 HINDA. 
 
 c Forgive a wretch whose feet your haunts profane, 
 
 ' These haunts, where mirth and boundless rapture reign ! 
 
 f But oh ! this breast incessant cares corrode, 
 
 ' And urge my fainting steps to death's abode ! 
 
 ' Joyless to me the seasons roll away, 
 
 ' — Exhausted nature hurries to decay ; 
 
 ' Day's cheerful beams for me in vain return, 
 
 c For me the stars of heav'n neglected burn : 
 
 6 In vain the flowers in wild luxuriance blow, 
 
 c In vain the fruits with purple radiance glow ; 
 
 6 In vain the harvest groans, the vintage bleeds, 
 
 c Grief urges grief, and toil to toil succeeds : 
 
 6 Since she whose presence bade the world be gay, 
 
 6 Whose charms gave lustre to the brightest day, 
 
 ' Hinda, once fairest of the virgin train, 
 
 ' Who haunt the forest, or who range the plain, 
 
 6 Sleeps where the boughs of yon black cypress wave, 
 
 ' And I am left to languish at her grave ! 
 
 ' To that dear spot, when day's declining beam 
 6 Darts from yon shining towers a farewell gleam, 
 6 Constant as eve, my sorrows I renew, 
 c And mix my tears with the descending dew, 
 S The last sad debt to buried beauty pay, 
 ' Kiss the cold shrine, and clasp the mould'ring clay. 
 
HINDA. 105 
 
 e Far other sounds this conscious valley heard, 
 * Far other vows these ardent lips preferr'd, 
 ' When sick with love, and eager to embrace 
 6 Beauties unrivalFd but by angel grace, 
 6 I madden* d as I gaz'd o'er all her charms, 
 '■ And hail'd my Hind a to a bridegroom's arms. 
 ' I printed on her lips an hasty kiss, 
 6 The pledge of ardent love and future bliss ; 
 f Her glowing blushes fann'd the secret fire, 
 6 Gave life to love, and vigour to desire ; 
 6 Then, when the tear, warm trickling down my cheek, 
 ' Spoke the full language passion could not speak, 
 c Our mutual transport seal'd the nuptial rite, 
 ' Heav'n witness'd, and approv'd the chaste delight — 
 
 " Prepare, I cried, prepare the nuptial feast, 
 " Bring all the treasures of the rifled east : 
 " The choicest gifts of every clime explore, 
 " Let Aden * yield her tributary store ; 
 " Let Saba all her beds of spice unfold, 
 " And Samarcand send gems, and India gold, 
 " To deck a banquet worthy of the bride, 
 " Where Mirth shall be the guest, and Love preside. 
 
 # Aden and Saba are both cities of Arabia Felix, celebrated for the gar- 
 dens and spicy woods with which they are surrounded. 
 
106 hinda/ 
 
 " Full fifty steeds I boast of swiftest pace, 
 " Fierce in the fight, and foremost in the race. 
 " Slaves too, Thave, a numerous faithful band, 
 *' And heav'n hath giv'n me wealth with lavish hand : 
 " Yet never have I heap'd an useless store, 
 " Nor spurn' d the needy pilgrim from my door ; 
 " And, skill' d alike to wield the crook or sword, 
 " I scorn the mandate of the proudest lord. 
 " O'er my wide vales a thousand camels bound, 
 " A thousand sheep my fertile hills surround ; 
 " For her amidst the spicy shrubs they feed, 
 " For her the choicest of the flock shall bleed. 
 " Of polish'd crystal shall a goblet shine, 
 " The surface mantling with the richest wine ; 
 " And on its sides with Omman's * pearls inlaid, 
 " Full many a tale of love shall be pourtray'd : 
 " Hesper shall rise, and warn us to be gone, 
 " Yet will we revel till the breaking dawn ; 
 " Nor will we heed the morn's unwelcome light, 
 " Nor our joys finish with returning night. 
 
 " Not Georgia's nymphs can with my love compare. 
 " Like jet the ringlets of her musky hair : 
 
 * The sea of Omman bounds Arabia on the south, and is celebrated by 
 the eastern poets for the beauty of the pearls it produces. 
 
HINDA. 107 
 
 " Her stature like the palm, her shape the pine ; 
 " Her breasts like swelling clusters of the vine ; 
 " Fragrant her breath as Hadramut's perfume, 
 " And her cheeks shame the damask rose's bloom. 
 " Black, soft, and full, her eyes serenely roll, 
 " And seem the liquid mansion of her soul. 
 " Who shall describe her lips, where rubies glow, 
 " Her teeth like shining drops of purest snow? 
 " Beneath her honey'd tongue persuasion lies, 
 " And her voice breathes the strains of Paradise. 
 
 u A bower I have, where branching almonds spread, 
 " Where all the seasons all their bounties shed ; 
 " The gales of life amidst the branches play, 
 " And music bursts from every vocal spray ; 
 " Its verdant foot a stream of amber laves, 
 " And o'er it Love his guardian banner waves : 
 " There shall our days, our nights in pleasure glide, 
 " Friendship shall live when passion's joys subside ; 
 " Increasing years improve our mutual truth, 
 " And age give sanction to the choice of youth." 
 
 6 Thus fondly I of fancied raptures sung, 
 ' And with my song the gladden'd valley rung. 
 ' But Fafe, with jealous eye, beheld our joy, 
 ' Smil'd to deceive, and flatter'd to destroy ; 
 
108 HINDA. 
 
 ' Swift as the shades of night the vision fled, 
 
 c Grief was the guest, and death the banquet spread. 
 
 6 A burning fever on her vitals prey'd, 
 
 ' Defied love's efforts, baffled med'cine's aid, 
 
 ' And from these widow 'd arms a treasure tore, 
 
 6 Beyond the price of empires to restore. 
 
 ' What have I left, what portion but despair, 
 6 Long days of woe, and nights of endless care ? 
 ' While others live to love, I live to weep ; 
 c Will sorrow burst the grave's eternal sleep ? 
 ' Will all my pray'rs the savage tyrant move 
 ' To quit his prey, and give me back my love ? 
 c If far, far hence, I take my hasty flight, 
 6 Seek other haunts, and scenes of soft delight, 
 ' Amidst the crowded mart her voice I hear, 
 ' And shed, unseen, the solitary tear ; 
 c Music exalts her animating strain, 
 c And beauty rolls her radiant eye in vain : 
 6 All that was music fled with Hjlnda's breath, 
 ' And beauty's brightest eyes are clos'd in death ! 
 6 I pine in darkness for the solar rays, 
 c Yet loath the sun, and sicken at his blaze ; 
 6 Then curse the light, and curse the lonely gloom, 
 6 While unremitting sorrow points the tomb. 
 
HINDA. 109 
 
 c Oh ! Hinda, brightest of the black-ey'd maids, 
 c That sport in paradise' embow'ring shades, 
 c From golden boughs where bend ambrosial fruits, 
 ' And fragrant waters wash th' immortal roots ; 
 ' Oh from the bright abodes of purer day, 
 ' The prostrate Agib at thy tomb survey ; 
 c Behold me with unceasing vigils pine, 
 ' My youthful vigour waste with swift decline ; 
 6 My hollow eye behold and faded face, 
 6 Where health but lately spread her ruddy grace — 
 c I can no more — this sabre sets me free ; 
 
 < This gives me back to rapture, love, and thee. 
 6 Firm to the stroke its shining edge I bare, 
 
 6 The lover's last, sad solace in despair. 
 
 6 Go, faithful steel, act ling'ring nature's part, 
 
 ' Bury thy blushing point within my heart ? 
 
 ' Drink all the life that warms these drooping veins, 
 
 ' And banish at one stroke a thousand pains. 
 
 * Haste thee, dear charmer ; catch my gasping breath, 
 
 ' And cheer with smiles the barren glooms of death ! 
 
 < Tis done, the gates of Paradise expand — 
 
 ' Attendant Houri seize my trembling hand — 
 
 6 I pass the dark, inhospitable shore, 
 
 ' And, Hind a, thou art mine, to part no more !' 
 
GENIUS 
 
 A POEM. 
 
GENIUS, 
 
 A POEM; 
 
 CONTAINING AN APOLOGY FOR ITS 
 
 ERRORS AND ECCENTRICITIES 
 
 WRITTEN FOR THE 
 ANNIVERSARY OP THE LITERARY FUND, MAY 8, 1806; 
 
 VV hen Man's majestic form, at Nature's birth, 
 Rose, newly fashion' d, from the teeming earth, 
 Pleased with his noblest work, th' Eternal Sire 
 A portion of his own etherial fire 
 Breath'd on the senseless mass : — the kindling clay 
 Felt the pure flame, and bounded at the ray. 
 But Life with myriad humbler forms he shared, 
 For Man a nobler boon his hand prepared ; 
 He gave him Reasons powers, and thro' his soul 
 Bade the warm current of the Passions roll : 
 Almighty Genius, then, that hand bestow'd, 
 And all his features with the Godhead glow'd. 
 
 I 
 
114 GENIUS. 
 
 Uninjur'd, unimpair'd by age or clime, 
 Bright as the Sun, and as its source sublime, 
 While Time's uncounted cycles roll away, 
 Fervid, immortal, flames its hallow' d ray. 
 
 Soul of the daring thought, and glowing lyre, 
 What shall repress its rage, or damp its fire ! 
 Unchanged by climate — at the burning line, 
 With warmth congenial glows the Spark divine ; 
 Mid Scythia's snows the tropic heat displays, 
 And pours through Lapland glooms its ardent blaze. 
 Now, where parch'd Afric's burning sands extend, 
 And raging Cancer's glowing beams descend, 
 In dauntless Hannibal its fires behold, 
 Who o'er proud Rome the Punic thunder roll'd ; 
 'Twas Genius o'er the Alps his standard bore, 
 And purpled Cannee with patrician gore ! 
 Now, mid the darkness of the frozen pole, 
 Behold those fires inflame great Peter's soul. 
 With daring schemes of high ambition fraught, 
 What vast conceptions fill his labouring thought ! 
 Of boundless empire — midst a trackless wild, 
 The haunt of savages, with blood defil'd ! — 
 The stern Lycurgus forms the mighty base. 
 And glows to civilize a barbarous race ; 
 
GENIUS. 115 
 
 In barren swamps bids tow'ring cities rise, 
 And Science bloom beneath Siberian skies ; 
 With verdure clothes the rock's incumbent brow, 
 While at his feet th 'eternal forests bow ; 
 O'er half the Arctic circle spreads his reign, 
 And with new navies crowds th' astonish'd main. 
 
 E'en Slavery's bonds its radiant beams illume, 
 And penetrate the dungeon's deepest gloom; 
 Hear laughing Terence pour his comic strains, 
 Hear fabling iEsop warbling in his chains ; 
 By Genius fir'd, Columbus spreads his sails, 
 And a new world the adventurous chieftain hails 
 By Genius led along the stormy shore, 
 Where round the Cape the thundering surges roar, 
 And raging hurricanes its surface sweep, 
 Undaunted Gama ploughs the Indian deep. 
 How bright in Nelson glow'd its ardent flame ! 
 What splendours blaze, round Pitt's unrivall'd name ! 
 Immortal patriots ! o'er whose honour'd bier 
 Virtue and Britain shed th' unceasing tear ! 
 O'er subject earth and seas 'tis Genius reigns, 
 And rolls the planets through yon azure plains. 
 
 No grov'ling native of this nether sphere, 
 The radiant child of Heav'n's eternal year ! 
 
116 GENIUS. 
 
 Beyond the flight of vulgar thought he springs, 
 Nor human laws restrain his eagle wings ; 
 But chief the Critic's frigid rules he spurns, 
 And with his own immortal ardour burns. 
 
 To all his bold eccentric darings kind, 
 The proud excesses of a lofty mind, 
 Those errors that from burning feelings flow, 
 When high the spirits, warm the pulses glow, 
 Nor wholly overlook, nor nicely scan — 
 And for his Godlike talents spare the Man. 
 Oh ! in no mean terrestrial balance weigh 
 The good or ill that marks his brilliant day ; 
 But in that lofty balance hung on high, 
 For ever blazing in his native sky ! 
 'Tis only in celestial Libra weigh' d, 
 Genius, thy dazzling merits are display' d. 
 
 Reflect — through all the radiant march of time, 
 Whatever great, or daring, or sublime, 
 Fills the vast volume of recording fame, 
 From GENIUS sprang, and hallow'd be its flame ! 
 
 As the bright Phoenix at the solar beam 
 Drinks life and vigour from its parent stream, 
 
GENIUS. 11/ 
 
 The Phoenix Genius, at a fount more blight, 
 Quaffs the pure blaze, and beams reflected light. 
 Like watchful Magi guard the virgin fire, 
 Nor let its blaze in penury expire ! 
 
 Would daring mortals check his bright career, 
 And chain to earth a native of the sphere ? 
 Go, the sweet influence of the Pleiads bind, 
 Bid their mild radiance cease to bless mankind ; 
 Or vast Orion with thy nod control, 
 And loose Arcturus from the gleaming pole ; 
 The madd'ning whirlwind of the South restrain, 
 And with thy plummet sound the unfathom'd main, — 
 When Nature thus obeys thy ruling hand, 
 Then bend proud Genius to thy stern command. 
 
 Think' st thou that he, whose soul delighted strays 
 In the bright tract where circling planets blaze, 
 Who richer treasures than Peru can boast, 
 Or glow on wealthy India's rubied coast, 
 Will bend his spirit of immortal birth, 
 To heap the treasured dross of shining earth ? 
 Perish the thought ! — Who sings the rolling sphere, 
 And paints the beauties of the vernal year, 
 Should taste, unbought, those bounties which it brings, 
 And all the sweets his muse enraptur'd sings ; 
 
118 GENIUS. 
 
 For him, with Nature's richest dainties stored, 
 
 Let pamper'd Grandeur spread the sumptuous board ; 
 
 For him the Summer's golden fruits should glow, 
 
 And the rich torrent of the vintage flow : 
 
 Who to the banquet gives its genuine zest, 
 
 For him, him only should the grape be prest. 
 
 Yours is the sacred charge, by Heav'n assign'd, 
 On earth to cherish this proud Child of Mind. 
 That charge how glorious ! how sublime the trust ! 
 To Heav'n be faithful, — and to Man be just. 
 Guard this rich gem of the celestial mine, 
 And bid its light to latest ages shine. 
 Behold, with all the glow of Genius fir'd, 
 For letters with unbounded zeal inspir'd, 
 That Prince — whose heart beats high for Britain's fame, 
 And bounds at Liberty's transporting name, 
 On Heav'n -born Talent sheds a cheering ray, 
 Auspicious promise of a brighter day ? 
 Nor unrequited shall his bounty stream — 
 Genius rolls back the bright reflected beam ; 
 For cherish' d fires confers sublime renown, 
 And with new glories gilds the British Crown. 
 Foster'd by You, — beneath these frozen skies, 
 I see new Shakspeares, Spensers, Mietons rise, 
 
GENIUS. 119 
 
 I hear new Drydens, but in manlier strain, 
 
 Resound some future George's glorious reign ; 
 
 And other Jones's, if the Fates are kind, 
 
 With all tueir talents, all their fires combin'd, 
 
 In Orient climes uphold the British name, 
 
 And bless the FUND that nurs'd their rising flame. 
 
 K 
 
FREE TRANSLATION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS 
 
 OF 
 
 SOPHOCLES; 
 
 THE NOBLEST PRODUCTION OF THE GREEK. DRAMATIC MUSE. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The following arduous attempt to give the finest drama of Sophocles an 
 English dress, was commenced by me at a very juvenile period, when at 
 Stanmore, under my revered friend and preceptor Dr. Parr: at whose 
 august tribunal most of the Choruses were shewed up (to use a school term) 
 as exercises. The accustomed candour of that liberal and enlightened 
 scholar induced him to receive with complacency, my well-intended, however 
 inadequate efforts. The work, when finished, afterwards passed under the 
 eye of another revered friend of my youth, Dr. Samuel Johnson, who con- 
 descended to write the Preface, and which bears internal evidence of its 
 origin. As only a few copies were at that time printed off, it is here again, 
 with diffidence, submitted to that public, whose indulgence my early produc- 
 tions have already so amply experienced. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 1 he Tragedy of which I have attempted 
 to convey the beauties into the English 
 language in a free translation, stands amidst 
 the foremost of the classical productions of 
 antiquity. Of tragical writing it has ever 
 been esteemed the model and the master- 
 piece. The grandeur of the subject is not 
 less eminent than the dignity of the perso- 
 nages who are employed in it ; and the 
 design of the whole can only be rivalled 
 by that art with which the particular parts 
 are conducted. The subject is a nation 
 labouring under calamities of the most 
 dreadful and portentous kind ; and the 
 
124 
 
 leading character is a wise and mighty 
 prince, expiating by his punishment the 
 involuntary crimes of which those calami- 
 ties were the effect. The design is of the 
 most interesting and important nature; to 
 inculcate a due moderation in our passions, 
 and an implicit obedience to that provi- 
 dence of which the decrees are equally 
 unknown and irresistible. 
 
 So sublime a composition could not fail 
 to secure the applause and fix the admira- 
 tion of ages. The philosopher is exercised 
 in the contemplation of its deep and awful 
 morality ; the critic is captivated by its 
 dramatic beauties; and the man of feeling is 
 interested by those strokes of genuine pas- 
 sion which prevail in almost every page — 
 which every character excites, and every new 
 event tends to diversify in kind or in degree. 
 
125 
 
 The three grand unities of time, place, 
 and action, are observed with scrupulous 
 exactness. However complicate its various 
 parts may on the first view appear, on a 
 nearer and more accurate examination, we 
 find every thing useful, every thing neces- 
 sary; some secret spring of action laid open, 
 some momentous truth inculcated, or some 
 important end promoted ; not one scene is 
 superfluous, nor is there one Episode that 
 could be retrenched. The successive cir- 
 cumstances of the play arise gradually and 
 naturally one out of the other, and are con- 
 nected with such inimitable judgment, that 
 if the smallest part were taken away, the 
 whole would fall to the ground. The prin- 
 cipal objection to this tragedy is, that the 
 punishment of Oedipus is much more than 
 adequate to his crimes: that his crimes are 
 only the effect of his ignorance, and that 
 
126 
 
 consequently the guilt of them is to be im- 
 puted not to Oedipus, but Apollo, who 
 ordained and predicted them, and that he 
 he is only Phoebi reus, as Seneca expresses 
 himself. In vindication of Sophocles, it 
 must be considered that the conduct of 
 Oedipus is by no means so irreproachable 
 as some have contended : for though his 
 public character is delineated as that of a 
 good king, anxious for the welfare of his 
 
 
 
 subjects, and ardent in his endeavours to 
 appease the gods by incense and supplica- 
 tion, yet we find him in private life choleric, 
 haughty, inquisitive; impatient of controul, 
 and impetuous in resentment. His cha- 
 racter, even as a king, is not free from the 
 imputation of imprudence, and our opinion 
 of his piety is greatly invalidated by his 
 contemptuous treatment of the wise, the 
 benevolent, the sacred Tiresias. The rules 
 
 
127 
 
 of tragic art scarcely permit that a perfectly 
 virtuous man should be loaded with mis- 
 fortunes. Had Sophocles presented to our 
 view a character less debased by vice, or 
 more exalted by virtue, the end of his 
 performance would have been frustrated ; 
 instead of agonizing compassion, he would 
 have raised in us indignation unmixed, 
 and horror unabated. The intention of 
 the poet would have been yet more frus- 
 trated on the return of our reason, and our 
 indignation would have been transferred 
 from Oedipus to the gods themselves — from 
 Oedipus, who committed parricide, to the 
 gods who first ordained, and then punished 
 it. By making him criminal in a small 
 degree, and miserable in a very great one, 
 by investing him with some excellent qua- 
 lities, and some imperfections, he at once 
 inclines us to pity and to condemn. His 
 
128 
 
 obstinacy darkens the lustre of his other 
 virtues ; it aggravates his impiety, and 
 almost justifies his sufferings, This is the 
 doctrine of Aristotle and of nature, and 
 shews Sophocles to have had an intimate 
 knowledge of the human heart, and the 
 springs by which it is actuated. That his 
 crimes and punishment still seem dispropor- 
 tionate, is not to be imputed as a fault to 
 Sophocles, who proceeded only on the 
 ancient and popular notion of Destiny; 
 which we know to have been the basis of 
 Pagan theology. 
 
 It is not the intention of the Translator 
 to proceed farther in a critical discussion of 
 the beauties and defects of a Tragedy which 
 hath already employed the pens of the most 
 distinguished commentators; which hath 
 wearied conjecture, and exhausted all the 
 
 ■ 
 
129 
 
 arts of unnecessary and unprofitable de- 
 fence. This work will be found by the 
 reader, what it is called by the writer, a 
 free translation. The Author was not 
 fettered by his text, but guided by it ; he 
 has, however, not forgotten the boundaries 
 by which liberal translation is distinguished 
 from that which is wild and licentious. He 
 has always endeavoured to represeut the 
 sense of his original, he hopes sometimes to 
 have caught its spirit, and he throws him- 
 self without reluctance, but not without 
 diffidence, on the candour of those readers 
 who understand and feel the difference that 
 subsists between the Greek and English 
 languages, between ancient and modern 
 manners, between nature and refinement, 
 between a Sophocles who appeals to poste- 
 rity, and a writer who catches at the 
 capricious taste of the day. 
 
THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 Oedipus, the supposed son of Polybus, King of Corinth, leaves the palace 
 of his father upon a reflection thrown on his birth by a courtier, to consult 
 the oracle at Delphi concerning his parents. In his journey he meets Laius, 
 King of Thebes, his real father, but unknown to him, in a narrow avenue, 
 and being opposed by him, kills him and his attendants. He afterwards 
 solves the riddle of the Sphynx, a monster that laid the country of Thebes 
 waste with her ravages, and, as his reward, is promoted to the throne, 
 vacant by the death of Laius, and to the bed of Jocasta, his own mother. 
 A dreadful pestilence rages among the Thebans, and, Creon being sent to 
 consult the oracle, brings back this answer. " That, when they shall have 
 banished the murderer of Laius, then resident among them, the plague 
 should cease." Oedipus, anxious to discover the offender, and to revenge 
 his death, denounces the most solemn Curses both against the culprit and 
 those who conceal him. After variety of investigation, Oedipus himself is 
 discovered to be the murderer. In his rage he tears out his eyes, and 
 Jocasta, unable to bear the reflection of her impurity, destroys herself. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Oedipus, - - King of Thebes. 
 
 Jocasta, - Wife of Oedipus. 
 
 Creon, - - - Brother to Jocasta. 
 
 Tiresias, A blind Prophet of Thebes. 
 
 Corinthian Shepherd. 
 
 Shepherd formerly belonging to Laius. 
 
 Messenger. 
 
 High Priest of Jupiter. 
 
 CHORUS. Consisting of the Priests and ancient Men of 
 Thebes, Theban Youths and Children of Oedipus. 
 
 SCENE. The Area before the Palace of Oedipus ; where 
 the Priests are assembled before the Altars. 
 
SOPHOCLES. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 OEDIPUS, THE PRIEST, CREON, CHORUS* 
 OEDIPUS. 
 
 Offspring of ancient Cadmus, wherefore thus 
 With suppliant branches press you round our palace ? 
 The temples smoak with incense, all our streets 
 Resound with mournful paeans, and with bursts 
 Of frantic woe — Behold your prince himself, 
 Ev'n Oedipus, by ev'ry tongue renown'd, 
 Anxious, impatient, hastes to learn the cause 
 Of these commotions : Say, thou rev' rend seer, 
 Whose years and wisdom claim my first regard, 
 Say, what disasters, what unseen distress 
 Involve my people : have the wrathful gods 
 Pour'd down their vengeance for some hidden crime, 
 
134 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Or hath some plunderer laid your city waste ? 
 Say, for this arm shall yield you from his rage, 
 Or added incense soothe offended Jove. 
 Steel'd were this heart, and ill should I deserve 
 To wear the crown a grateful nation gave, 
 Did I not sympathise in all their griefs, 
 And risk my life and safety for their welfare. 
 
 Priest. Prince of this wretched land, thine eyes behold 
 What prostrate throngs around these altars poured, 
 Implore thy succour from the jaws of death. 
 Her unfledg'd infant train their feeble hands 
 Here suppliant stretch : there bend her chosen youth 
 Renown'd in war — the venerable race 
 To these succeed, who guard our sacred rites, 
 Hoary with age and grief : the priest of Jove 
 Bows prostrate at thy feet— O king, attend 
 Thy subjects cries, who rush in myriad throngs 
 To where the temples of Minerva * rise, 
 And where Ismenus her prophetic stream 
 Rolls by Apollo's shrine : their sacred boughs 
 Waving in air and weary heav'n with plaints, 
 f Our ancient city, like a shatter' d wreck, 
 
 * In Thebes there were two temples of Pallas; one in honour of Minerva 
 the Assister ; the other in honour of the Ismenian Minerva. 
 
 f This comparison of a state, struggling under calamity, to a ship in 
 distress, is to be met with in many both of the Greek and Roman classics: 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 135 
 
 When all the fury of the tempest rages, 
 
 Sinks in the flood that swells to overwhelm her. 
 
 A savage pestilence with horrid strides 
 
 Stalks through our streets, and rushing from the skies 
 
 Avenging Phoebus scatters o'er the land 
 
 His burning arrows — while the gloomy grave, 
 
 En rich' d with groans and death, exults to view 
 
 Such myriads croud his desolate domain ! 
 
 Parch'd by the blast the ripening harvest dies, 
 
 Our fields are strew'd with putrid carcases 
 
 That lie unburied, and still wider spread 
 
 The foul contagion — dismal screams are heard 
 
 Of women labouring with untimely birth, 
 
 Who curse the monstrous product of their womb ! 
 
 O! second only to the immortal Gods 
 
 In wisdom and in might, extend thy arm 
 
 To save our sinking race — arise, O prince, 
 
 Shine forth, as when thy glorious presence burst 
 
 The Sphynx's dark senigma,* and restored 
 
 From death and servitude our drooping souls, 
 
 it occurs again in the speech of Jocasta at the opening of the third Act, or 
 what the critics call so, for this division into acts was unknown to the 
 Grecian stage. 
 
 * For the benefit of that class of readers who may be less conversant in 
 the ancient mythological history of Greece, it may be necessary just to 
 observe, that the Sphynx was a fabulous monster, to whom the poets have 
 assigned various parts of the human and bestial frame ; as the face of a 
 woman, the body of a dog, the tail of a serpent, the wings of a bird, and 
 
 L 
 
136 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 To life, to health and safety — Prince, to thee 
 We raise our anxious eyes ; once more be call'd 
 The saviour of our race ; in this dark hour, 
 If thy prophetic skill may aught avail : 
 For oft the counsels of the wise avert 
 The threaten'd ill. Let not oblivion shade 
 Thy former godlike deeds. This city stands 
 The great recording herald of thy fame : 
 Act like thyself; and know, illustrious sire, 
 A kingdom's strength consists not in extent 
 Of vast domains, and bulwarks rais'd to heav'n ; 
 The people are its strength, and when these fail, 
 Its fleets are useless, and its bulwarks vain. 
 
 Oed. Alas ! my sons, ye urge not your complaints 
 Unknown or unregarded — well I know 
 The various labours that oppress the state : 
 Nor hath your sov' reign borne amidst you all 
 The slightest share of woe. Still have I felt 
 For every pang the meanest subject knows. 
 This breast, where all your cares a center find, 
 
 the talons of a lion, together with a human voice. She is said to have been 
 sent by Juno to annoy the detested progeny of Cadmus, and spread her 
 ravages far and wide around the neighbourhood of Thebes, devouring all 
 those who were unable to expound her senigmas. Oedipus alone was equal 
 to the task ; when the monster, in despair, dashed out her brains against a 
 rock. It would be a waste of time to enter into farther explanation on 
 this subject, though ingenious theories relative to it have not been 
 < wanting. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 13^ 
 
 Feels no repose, but bears an empire's toils. 
 Whether by night upon my couch I lie, 
 Or throng' d in regal pomp, all- seeing Jove ! 
 Witness the tears I shed, the sighs I pour. 
 How rove my thoughts in mazy wand'rings lost, 
 Some med'cine to explore for bleeding Thebes. 
 What prudence bade I fail'd not to perform 
 With early speed — to Delphi's shrine I sent 
 Creon, my noble relative and friend, 
 To seek of Jove, what dark unpurg'd offence 
 Hath stain'd the land ; what offering may atone, 
 And mitigate the wrath of angry heav'n — 
 My soul is big with terror while I wait 
 The God's decree : the time of his return 
 Is near elaps'd, and may the curse be mine 
 If I not execute in all its force 
 The dread behest. — 
 
 Priest. Auspicious are thy words ; 
 These youths pronounce, that Creon is arriv'd. 
 
 Oed. O great Apollo ! Grant his chearful looks 
 Be the fair omen of thy smile restor'd. 
 
 Priest. Thus may we well divine, for bright indeed 
 His aspect ; and around his temples wave 
 The joyful laurels.* 
 
 * When the person, who was sent to consult the oracle, returned crowned 
 with laurel, it was a sign of his having received a favourable answer. 
 
138 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Oed, What his tidings, soon 
 He will himself unfold ; illustrious prince, 
 What answer bear' st thou from the shrines of Delphi ? 
 
 Cre. Most happy, if the voice of wisdom guide 
 The sons of Thebes : the storm that now impends, 
 Threatening her overthrow, will soon subside. 
 
 Oed. Mysterious are thy words ; my anxious mind 
 Fluctuates 'midst doubt and terror. 
 
 Cre. If my liege 
 Command me to declare the will of Jove, 
 Before this great assembly, I obey — 
 Or in the private chambers of the palace, 
 Will to his ear unfold the dire decree 
 Thunder'd from Delphi's rock. 
 
 Oed, Declare aloud 
 The will of Jove — 
 
 Cre. Hear then — High Jove commands us 
 To drive from out our land the baleful source 
 Of these calamities, nor nourish more 
 
 A WRETCH, ACCURST BY ALL THE POW'RS OF HeAv'n. 
 
 Oed. What wretch ? — declare, how shall we soothe his rage ? 
 
 Cre. Let banishment, or instant death arrest 
 His guilty steps — 'tis blood, 'tis blood, my friends, 
 A murder'd king's unexpiated blood, 
 Hath laid our country waste. 
 
 Oed. Whose blood? Explain 
 This dark and hideous mystery — 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 139 
 
 Cre. Know, dread Prince, 
 Ere thou wast seated on the throne of Thebes, 
 Laius our monarch held the reins of empire. 
 
 Oed. Report hath told me so ; I knew him not. 
 
 Cre. This prince unjustly slain, the Pow'rs above 
 Command us to avenge, and drag to light 
 The base assassins — 
 
 Oed. Ha ! where lurk the traitors ? 
 How shall we trace this foul and murd'rous deed 
 To its dark source ? — but say, where fell the Prince ? 
 
 Cre. In this same land he fell ; let guards be sent 
 T' explore the country, lest he 'scape by flight — 
 Our early vigilance may save an empire. 
 
 Oed. Declare the time and manner of his death ; 
 Each circumstance recall to mind — in Thebes 
 Met he this fate, or in a foreign land ? 
 
 Cre. He went (as was reported) to consult 
 Some distant oracle, but ne'er return'd 
 To fill his vacant throne — 
 
 Oed. But did no slave, 
 No messenger of all his train return, 
 To spread these tidings of your sovereign's death ? 
 
 Cre. One only 'scap'd by flight, the rest all fell, 
 Amidst the general slaughter : him his fright 
 Permitted but in memory to retain 
 One trivial circumstance. 
 
140 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Oed. Say, what was that ? 
 One glimmering spark may light us on our way 
 Thro' all this maze of guilt. 
 
 Cre. That robbers slew him : 
 He fell not by a single ruffian's hand, 
 But by the power of multitudes combin'd. 
 
 Oed. How— would a band of robbers dare a deed, 
 Of such atrocious guilt ? 
 
 Cre. Such his report — 
 But thus unaided, unaveng'd, expir'd 
 The best of princes. 
 
 Oed. Why explored you not, 
 With stricter scrutiny, this deed of blood ? 
 
 Cre. 'Twas then the monster Sphynx to Thebes proposed 
 Her dire eenigma, and remoter cares 
 Were buried in the sense of present ills. 
 
 Oed. This still more dire senigma to resolve, 
 And to their dark retreats the authors trace 
 Of this foul parricide, the charge be mine- 
 But, first, our duteous homage let us pay 
 All-seeing Phoebus ! to thy searching beam. 
 To thee, O Creon ! next, th' obedient herald, 
 Of Jove's high will, our ardent thanks are due ! 
 Thebans, dismiss your fears — in me, once more, 
 Behold the bulwark of your falling state. 
 This arm shall drag the traitor from his covert ; 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 141 
 
 Thy murder' d sov'reign, Thebes, shall be avenged — 
 
 Soon may the daring regicides attempt 
 
 To murder me, my children, or my queen. 
 
 Arise, my sons, and henceforth throw aside 
 
 Your suppliant boughs — Before these glowing altars 
 
 Let heralds summon all the race of Cadmus. 
 
 Phoebus our guide, together will we raise 
 
 Our heads triumphant, or together sink 
 
 In undistinguish'd ruin.* 
 
 Priest. Yes, my sons, 
 Arise, since thus our monarch hath resolv'd : 
 May that immortal Power, whose awful voice 
 Utter' d the prophecy, descend from Heav'n, 
 Avenge our cause, and save expiring Thebes. 
 
 * Although it is not my wish to load these pages with accumulated 
 notes, especially after the very pertinent observations in the preface on the 
 character of Oedipus — a character adorned with many bright qualities, but 
 shaded with many defects— yet a few occasional remarks, as we proceed, 
 on the prominent virtues and vices which that character displays, may 
 greatly tend to elucidate the design of Sophocles, in the composition of 
 this noble and instructive drama. The piety of this unfortunate prince is 
 here not less eminently conspicuous in his anxiety to pay implicit obedience 
 to the sacred mandate of Apollo, than his justice in his strenuous exertions 
 to punish the foul crime of murder, and his zeal, the zeal of d patriot king, 
 to relieve his suffering subjects from the dreadful calamities that oppressed 
 his country and kingdom, in consequence of that murder. What horror is 
 afterwards excited in the mind, when, after a train of the most painful 
 investigation, he himself is discovered to be the destined victim of the ven- 
 geance thus awfully denounced by his own lips against the murderer of 
 Laius f 
 
142 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 STROPHE I. 
 
 Immortal, high, harmonious strain ! 
 That arm'd with awful terrors from above, 
 
 In thunder burst from Delphi's fane, 
 Bearing to Thebes the dread command of Jove : 
 Thy sounds with horror fill my throbbing breast. 
 
 To thee our sorrowing pseans rise, 
 Patron and parent of the healing art — 
 
 Delian ! O quickly cleave the skies. 
 Arm'd with thy quiver, thy unerring dart, 
 And purge our city from this raging pest. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 Daughter of hope, fair child of light, 
 What great events in time's dark womb conceal'd, 
 
 Are now emerging to our sight ; 
 Or wait the circling hours to be reveal'd ? 
 Thee, Pallas, thee, the guardian of our land, 
 
 We first invoke, and thee, whose shrine, 
 Fills our extended forum's ample space, 
 
 With these thine aid far-darting Phoebus join 
 Haste, haste, auspicious, ta our sinking race ; 
 Pierce the dark fiend, and stay his wasteful hand. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 143 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 The pride of Thebes is levell'd with the ground, 
 
 The fruits of earth lie blasted on the plain : 
 Her palaces with shrieks of death resound, 
 
 And her streets groan beneath the heaps of slain. 
 So wide hath spread the monster's fiery rage, 
 Beauty's flush' d cheek with fatal crimson burns ; 
 
 From her wild eye pernicious lightning glares : 
 Ev'n virtue's hallow'd plaint the tyrant spurns ; 
 
 The screaming infant from the bosom tears, 
 And strikes to earth the hoary scalp of age. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 The mother with convulsive tortures torn, 
 
 Faints 'midst her pains, and languishes in death. 
 Her hapless infant curst as soon as born, 
 
 Imbibes pollution with his earliest breath. 
 But hark ! in louder bursts the paeans break ; 
 The shores will wilder acclamations ring, 
 
 Mad with the flames that revel thro' their blood. 
 Increasing throngs around our altars cling, 
 And swift as rapid fire, or torrent flood, 
 
 By myriads rush to Lethe's gloomy lake. 
 
144 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 STROPHE III. 
 
 Bright offspring of the Thunderer hear ; 
 Hear Pallas, from thy central throne of light, 
 
 Seize thy dread shield, thy mighty spear, 
 And hither, O ! direct thy rapid flight. — 
 Enthron'd on high, with ruin by his side, 
 
 This ravager, who spurns the mail of war, 
 Hath slain thy people, and thy groves dehTd. — 
 
 O ! dash him from his fiery car, 
 Drive him far hence to Scythia's rocky wild, 
 Or deep ingulph him in the Thracian tide. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE III. 
 
 But chief, dread ruler of the skies ! 
 Bare thou thine arm, with keener lightnings red, 
 
 Omnipotent ! in vengeance rise. 
 And let those lightnings blast his impious head. 
 Monarch of Lydia, stretch thy mighty hand, 
 
 Bid thy unconquer'd shafts the monster rend ; 
 O thou, whose darts Lyceum's summits fire, 
 
 O Bacchus, crown'd with chaplets, hither bend- 
 Bacchus, who lov'st to join the madd'ning quire, 
 Rush on th' accursed god,* and drive him from the land. 
 
 # AnoTinov b $eoi$ $eov. A god accurst among the gods. 
 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 345 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 OEDIPUS, CHORUS, TIRESIAS. 
 OEDIPUS. 
 
 Whate'er my subjects justly can demand, 
 To grant is my ambition : therefore hear 
 My words obedient ; so shall we obtain 
 Relief from heav'n, and expiate our offence. 
 I knew not till this day the dire event, 
 Not ev'n report had told me ; but there seem 
 Some sure, tho' secret traces, that may lead 
 To full detection of this monstrous crime. — 
 Hear then this last resolve, which I, your king, 
 (Who glory in the name of citizen) 
 To all the citizens of ample Thebes 
 Aloud proclaim. — If any subject know 
 By whom the son of Labdacus was slain, 
 ? Tis my command that instant he reveal 
 The fatal secret : let not dread of death 
 Restrain him, for the murd'rer shall not die : 
 His exile shall alone suffice to pay 
 
146 OEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 
 
 The debt of vengeance ; if by foreign hand 
 
 His blood was spilt, whoever brings to light 
 
 The traitorous parricide the sons of Thebes 
 
 With lavish honours shall reward his zeal. 
 
 But if, from friendship, or whatever cause, 
 
 He screen the murderer, let him ponder well 
 
 His dreadful doom. — We further then command 
 
 That none thro' all our wide domain receive 
 
 A monster so defil'd : that none hold converse, 
 
 In word or action, with him : drive him out 
 
 From all your temples : let him not approach 
 
 Your solemn sacrifices, but pursue, pursue, 
 
 With loudest execrations thro' the land 
 
 The universal pest — this awful curse 
 
 The god of Delphi thunders on his head ! 
 
 If some bold ruffian singly dar'd the deed, 
 
 Or leagued with numbers, be they still accurst — 
 
 May poverty exhaust their weary lives ; 
 
 The sports of pain, and victims of disease ! 
 
 If in this palace I conceal the traitor, 
 
 Shovv'r down, ye heav'ns, these curses on the head 
 
 Of Oedipus, and all his perjur'd race. 
 
 Not heav'n alone, the virtues of your king 
 
 Command this tribute ; I am bound to pay 
 
 The debt of ample justice to 'his manes. 
 
 I, who enjoy his scepter and his bed, 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 147 
 
 And, had not unrelenting fate oppos'd 
 
 His fond desires, had shar'd his * children too — 
 
 Urg'd by a son's regard, I will avenge 
 
 This best of princes : smile, ye mighty names, 
 
 That laid the basis of this tow'ring empire, 
 
 Cadmus, Agenor, for I will avenge 
 
 The blood of your descendant. — Are there yet, 
 
 Among the sons of Thebes, who wish to screen 
 
 So base a parricide : thou parent earth ! 
 
 Ope not the treasures of thy fruitful womb 
 
 To this ungrateful race : curst be their beds, 
 
 And barren — curst the produce of their toil, 
 
 Till the same fate shall crush their impious heads. 
 
 Justice divine, and ye immortal powers ! 
 
 Who guard the innocent, assist our cause, 
 
 The cause of virtue and of injur' d kings. 
 
 Cho. Prince, may each curse thy lips have now pronounced, 
 Alight on me, if, conscious to the fact, 
 I screen the murderer, or abet his cause. 
 But the bright Power, who utter'd the decree, 
 Can best explain its meaning. 
 
 Oed. Just, O sage : 
 But if the god incline not to reveal it, 
 
 * The introduction of this circumstance has a striking effect : Laius had 
 a child, and that child was Oedipus ; though his being exposed was kept 
 as secret as his birth. 
 
 „'■■■ 
 
148 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Who shall extort the secret from a power 
 Arm'd with omnipotence ? 
 
 Chor. Will then my liege 
 Attend an old man's counsel ? 
 
 Oed. Speak, if aught 
 Thy mind conceives, of import to the state. 
 
 Chor. In wisdom equall'd by the gods alone, 
 The hoary seer, Tiresias, may unfold 
 Its hidden purport. 
 
 Oed. Creon thus advised — 
 And messengers have twice been sent to summon 
 The rev'rend prophet ; at his strange delay 
 I wonder much. 
 
 Cho. 'Tis well ; for other tales, 
 Various and vague are rumour'd of his death. 
 
 Oed. What are they, say ? For I should know them all 
 To judge aright. 
 
 Cho. They say the prince was slain 
 By travellers. 
 
 Oed. This hath likewise reach'd my ears ; 
 But who hath yet appear' d to prove the fact ? 
 
 Chor. If he exist on earth, thy menaces 
 Will force the conscious villain to confess. 
 Oed. Whoever dar'd the execrable deed 
 Will not be startled at the impending curse. 
 
 Cho. But this way, lo ! they lead the holy seer, 
 Who can alone disclose the fatal truth. — 
 
OEDIPUS TYR ANNUS, 149 
 
 Oed, All -wise Tiresias ! Thou, whose mighty mind 
 Can pierce the dark, mysterious depths of fate, 
 Whatever in the womb of night, unborn, 
 Or what, amidst the great decrees of heav'n, 
 Lies hid from mortal ken — tho' dim the rays 
 Of outward sight, yet well thy mental eye 
 Beholds the toils of Thebes, whose anxious sons 
 Call thee to be their saviour : for when late 
 We sought at Delphi's shrine the will of Jove, 
 Thus spake the eternal voice — " With instant death 
 " Or everlasting exile, fine the wretch 
 " That murder'd Laius : this command obey'd, 
 " The plague shall cease to desolate your land/ 
 O ! therefore, if thy sage, prophetic skill, 
 From birds or ominous signs can aught divine, 
 From swift destruction snatch thyself and Thebes — 
 Avenge a murder'd prince ; and thy reward 
 Reap in a nation's pray'rs, and those pure joys 
 The virtuous feel, in aiding the distrest. 
 
 Tir. How fatal knowledge proves, when thus to know 
 Is to be doubly wretched ! when, to speak, 
 And to be silent, are alike the source 
 Of bitterest grief ! O had I ne'er approached — 
 
 Oed. What dreadful secret labours in thy breast, 
 Darkening thy brow ! 
 
 Tires. Dismiss me from thy presence ; 
 Thy future peace and mine depend upon it. 
 
150 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Oed. 'Twere base ingratitude to Thebes, who bore 
 And nourished thee, to hide the will of Jove 
 At this dread crisis — 
 
 Tires. Rash, rash prince, forbear, 
 Lest I too suddenly that will disclose. 
 
 Oed. O by the gods reveal it, if thou know'st ; 
 Suppliant we all beseech thee. 
 
 Tires. Urge no more 
 The knowledge of those woes that, ah ! too soon 
 Will burst upon thee. 
 
 Oed. How ? Know'st thou our fate, 
 Yet seal'st thy lip in silence ; thus betraying 
 Thy prince and country ? 
 
 Tires. Yes, my lips are seal'd : 
 Beware thy base suspicions tempt me not 
 To break that silence. — 
 
 Oed. I can hold no longer — 
 Traitor, since thou art deaf to our entreaties, 
 Thou shalt reveal it, for I'll force it from thee.* 
 
 * Here we have the first specimen of that unhappy resentful impetuosity 
 of temper, and that dictatorial conduct in Oedipus, which are intended to 
 prepare the reader to behold his future dreadful sufferings with less poignant 
 grief than he otherwise would have beheld them. Tiresias, at his first 
 entrance into the royal presence, respectful, diffident, and reluctant, from 
 compassionate motives, to declare the portentous secret with which his 
 bosom labours, becomes progressively irritated, until at length he pro- 
 nounces his doom with all the majesty of an inspired prophet, provoked to 
 just indignation by the contemptuous treatment, and base suggestions of 
 the royal Delinquent. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 151 
 
 Tires. Thou blamest my conduct; heedless that thy own 
 Ungovernable temper least becomes 
 This sacred place. 
 
 Oed. Who can restrain his rage, 
 That sees thee treat, with insolent contempt, 
 A nation's cries ? 
 
 Tires. What, in the book of fate, 
 The hand of Jove hath grav'd, shall come to pass, 
 Tho' I remain in everlasting silence. — 
 
 Oed. But duty to thy country calls upon thee 
 To speak her doom. 
 
 Tires. Still let thy tongue rail on ; 
 Thy fiercest rage shall never tear it from me. 
 
 Oed. I then will speak — for if aright I judge, 
 Thyself wert conscious to this deed of horror : 
 Nay, farther, had those eyes retained their light, 
 Wouldst with thine own base hand have dealt the blow. 
 Tir. Hear me, proud prince ; the curse thou hast pronounc'd 
 On thine own head recoils — murderer, avaunt — 
 For from this day, this day of thy disgrace, 
 The meanest slave shall spurn thee as profane, 
 Accurst by heav'n, and sacred to its rage. 
 
 Oed, Miscreant, and hop'st thou for this daring insult 
 To go unscourg'd ? 
 
 Tires. Tyrant, I scorn thy threats ; 
 Truth is my fortress, and, against thy power, 
 
 M 
 
152 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Girds me, as with a coat of adamant. — » 
 
 Oerf.But tell me from what source thy knowledge springs 
 From thy prophetic art ? 
 
 Tires. Nay, from thyself : 
 Thy haughty treatment forced me to reveal it. 
 
 Oed. Once more then with the sound refresh my soul. 
 Tires. Wilt thou provoke me farther; was my meaning 
 Hid in ambiguous phrase ? 
 
 Oed. Nay, but repeat 
 Thy wonderous tale. 
 
 Tires. I tell thee then again, 
 Thou art that wretch, that murderer whom thou seek'st— 
 
 Oed. By heav'ns, thou shalt not twice insult thy prince 
 And go unpunish'd. 
 
 Tires. Should I tell thee more, 
 How would'st thou madden ! 
 
 Oed. Speak it all, for all 
 Is one damn'd forgery — 
 
 Tires. Know, unholy fires 
 Within that foul, unconscious bosom burn : 
 Nor heed'st thou that the partner of thy joys 
 Shall prove ere long the source of bitterest woes. 
 
 Oed. Still shall thy tongue spit forth its dark abuse 
 Against thy sovereign — 
 
 Tires. I regard thee not, 
 While truth remains my shield. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 153 
 
 Oed. Traitor, thou ly'st — 
 Truth never harbour' d in so base a soul ; 
 Blacken'd by every crime, and, like thy form, 
 Involv'd in total night. 
 
 Tires. Beware the taunt, 
 That soon, with triple force, shall fall on thee — 
 
 Oed. Thy blindness is thy safeguard, or long since 
 This arm had punish' d thy abuse w T ith death. 
 
 Tires. Still I defy thee, for thy murderous sword 
 Shall never drink my blood — The gods protect me. 
 Oed. Was this base falsehood forg'd by thee or Creon? 
 Tires. By neither ; as thy fate too soon shall prove— 
 Oed. Painful pre-eminence of wealth and power, 
 And wisdom, last, best, noblest gift of heav'n ! 
 Since envy thus pursues to blast the steps 
 Of all that's fair or excellent on earth : 
 This crown, unsought by me, which grateful Thebes 
 Placed on my brow, that basest of mankind, 
 Creon, whom late I deem'd my firmest friend, 
 Would ravish from me, and hath here suborn'd 
 This curst magician, this vile son of fraud, 
 This wily, wand'ring, subtle hypocrite, 
 This base impostor — * blind to ev'ry sense 
 But that of gain — with crimes of blackest die 
 
 * — 'Ooti$ h tois xepfawv 
 
 MOVOV UfopKE, 
 
154 OEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 
 
 To load my name, and sully all my glory ! 
 Tell me, thou vaunting prophet, where wast thou 
 When the fell Sphynx her dark mysterious song 
 Propos'd to Thebes : speak, dotard, for to solve 
 Her dire eenigina, ask'd, methinks, at least 
 A prophet's pow'r — Then Oedipus arose, 
 And, without aid of dreams, or auguries, 
 But by the native vigour of a soul 
 That pierces thine, and Creon's dark designs, 
 Whose bold ambition aims to seize my crown, 
 Solv'd the dire riddle — but beware, impostor, 
 Thou and thy traitor friend, I say, beware ! 
 Or dearly ye shall rue the wild attempt. 
 And did not years protect thee from my rage, 
 I should, ere now, have taught thee how to rouse 
 The wrath of kings — 
 
 Cho. If to decide be mine, 
 Ye both are heated with intemperate warmth, 
 Heav'n can alone decide ; let then our prayers, 
 United seek the succour of the gods. 
 
 Tires. What, tho' a mighty empire wait thy nod, 
 ^ A monarch is but man, and I, as man, 
 - Am not inferior to the proudest prince. 
 Nor thee nor Creon, 'tis the gods I serve : 
 But since my blindness wakes thy insult — hear 
 A tale shall shake thy inmost soul with horror — 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS 155 
 
 Know then, a tenfold darkness veils thy mind, 
 
 And tho' thine eyes now drink^the noontide ray, 
 
 The time is near when they shall quench their orbs 
 
 In everlasting night ! Blind wretch, thou knowest not 
 
 The long, long train of black calamities, 
 
 Whose scorpion stings shall wake thee into madness — 
 
 Thou know'st not that incestuous transports stain 
 
 Thy guilty couch, and that a father's blood 
 
 Calls from the grave for vengeance — that thy plaints 
 
 Of frantic woe, shall ring thro' ev'ry shore, 
 
 And ev'ry mountain * a Cithjeron prove ! 
 
 Serene f indeed, and steady was the gale 
 
 That bore thy swelling sails to Thebes's throne, 
 
 And to Jocasta's bed : vainly thou hop'st 
 
 To anchor there in undisturb'd repose. 
 
 The port thou ridest in with such pomp of sail, 
 
 Shall wreck thee : once more give thee back 
 
 To all the madness of the hurricane ! 
 
 * Cithseron was the mountain on which Oedipus was exposed. There 
 is a horrid grandeur, and local propriety in the original here, which could 
 not be well expressed in a translation. I have ventured to give it literally. 
 
 f To translate this passage with spirit and delicacy was no very easy 
 task : the passage literally runs thus—" When thou shalt have discovered 
 that marriage, into which thou hast sailed with a fortunate gale, where 
 thou didst expect joy and safety, other, yes, other evils yet impend, that 
 shall at once equal thee to thyself and thy children/' The obscurity is 
 less horrid in the original, than the translation. 
 
156 OEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 
 
 Thy children too — thy children did I say ! 
 Thy brethren — they with curses shall repay 
 Thy love, when they shall find themselves allied 
 By guilty ties ; from the same impious stem 
 Equally sprung. — Now let thy wanton tongue 
 Exhaust its rage on Creon, and on me : 
 I'll bear it all,, but still I tell thee, Prince, 
 The sun beholds not in its wide survey, 
 A wretch so guilty, so accurst as thou art. 
 
 Oed. I will not further bear thy insolence, 
 Begone — haste from my presence, or by heav'n — 
 
 Tires, I came not here unsummon'd. 
 
 Oed. Think'st thou then, 
 I sent for thee, base miscreant, to insult me ? 
 
 Tires. Thou deem'st me fool and mad ; far otherwise 
 Thy parents thought.* 
 
 Oed. What say'st thou ? hah ! my parents — 
 Whom may I call by that dear name ? 
 
 Tires. No more : 
 This day that gives thee life, shall prove to thee 
 The day of death — 
 
 Oed. What deep obscurity 
 Involves thy ev'ry speech ? 
 
 * The artful mention, in this place, of his parents is a master-stroke of 
 Sophocles, and has an electrifying effect both on Oedipus and the audience. 
 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 157 
 
 Tires. But thou, perhaps, 
 Who solv'd the Sphynx's riddle, may'st unfold 
 Their mystery. — 
 
 Oed. Dost thou dare reproach me, priest, 
 With what will ever be my greatest triumph ? 
 Tires. That triumph seals thy ruin — 
 
 Oed. Hail then, Ruin! 
 I'll glory in my fall, since by that fall 
 * I've sav'd a nation. 
 
 Tires. Glory then ; farewell ! 
 Boy, lead me hence — 
 
 Oed. Aye, lead the dotard hence, 
 He but distracts our counsels. 
 
 Tires. Prince, I go ; 
 But, ere I take of thee my last adieu, 
 I will, in less mysterious terms, unfold 
 Why came this dotard hither — Know once more, 
 The man on whom thy lips have thunder'd forth 
 Such dreadful execrations, stands among us. 
 Nor did a foreign country give him birth, 
 At Thebes he drew his breath ; that mark thou well— 
 And mark — the day of vengeance is at hand. 
 Tho' now he riot in the spoils of wealth, 
 And shine in regal pomp, he shall not long — 
 Blindness, and toil, and penury are his lot, 
 To waste his days in barren solitudes : 
 
158 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 And, bending on a staff, implore relief 
 
 From passing travellers, who shall spurn him from them, 
 
 As one accurst — a blot in nature's page — 
 
 One, whom his own polluted race may call 
 
 Their father and their brother ; she who bore him, 
 
 Her child and husband, and his murder' d sire, 
 
 A SON INCESTUOUS, AND A PARRICIDE 
 
 Now go within thy palace — -well revolve 
 Each word : and if one word, one circumstance 
 Fail, and convict me of imputed falsehood ; 
 My art prophetic scorn, my threats defy. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 STROPHE I. 
 
 Where lurks the murd'rous child of guilt, 
 By whose dark hand a monarch's blood was spilt ? 
 
 On whose devoted, impious head 
 The Delphic rock its deepest curse hath shed. 
 Now let him mock in flight the rapid steed, 
 Mount * the swift storm, or seize the light'ning's speed ; 
 
 For, arm'd with all the wrath of Jove, 
 Whose bolts of fire the redd'ning aether rend, 
 
 Apollo rushes from above, 
 And rav'ning destinies his steps attend. 
 
 * aeAAo7ro&a>v »Wa>v ; horses whose feet are like storms in swiftness. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNTJS, 159 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I 
 
 Where steep Parnassus, wrapt in snow, 
 Rears 'midst incumbent heav'n his hoary brow : 
 
 Thence came the mandate of the god 
 To drag the monster from his drear abode : 
 Whether in rocks and caves, with wand'ring feet, 
 Like the lone * bull he seek his dark retreat. 
 
 Vain hope ! his vengeful hand to fly, 
 That hand which guides the stedfast universe ; 
 
 To shun the light'ning of that eye 
 Whose searching beams its inmost centre pierce. 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 What sounds of horror strike mine ear ? 
 The awful voice of yon prophetic seer : 
 
 Tidings of death to Thebes they bring, 
 Denouncing vengeance to her hapless king. 
 
 * This idea of a solitary bull is, in the original, peculiarly forcible; 
 Virgil likewise, with the utmost delicacy and pathos, describes the wander- 
 ings of the despairing bull — 
 
 Sed alter 
 
 Victus abit, longeque ignotis exulat oris. Vide 3d Georg, 225, 
 And again, 
 
 Dura jacet pernox, instrata saxa cubili. 
 
160 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Within my breast conflicting passions roll, 
 Terror and doubt alternate shake my soul. 
 
 How by our monarch's hand could Laius bleed, 
 A stranger to that monarch's eyes ; 
 
 Uninjur'd, unprovok'd, by word or deed ? 
 My bosom spurns the base surmise. 
 
 ANTISTKOPHE it. 
 
 The powers who search the human heart, 
 They can alone the dreadful truth impart ; 
 
 While sway'd by rage, or rival hate, 
 Prophets may wrongly scan the page of fate. 
 Tho' high the sons of men in wisdom shine, 
 Mortals can never fathom truths divine. 
 
 Could he who late the bulwark stood, 
 From the fell Sphynx our city to relieve, 
 
 Defile his spear with royal blood ? 
 'Twere guilt to think, and madness to believe. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS 1 61 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 CREON, OEDIPUS, JOCASTA, CHORUS. 
 
 CREON. 
 
 1 hebanSj I come to vindicate my fame 
 From the foul stains your king hath cast upon it. 
 In this dark moment, or by word or deed, 
 If Creon aught could aggravate your woes, 
 He were unworthy of the air he breathes ; 
 For what is life, if I must live despised 
 By all my countrymen, and deemed a traitor? 
 
 Chor. 'Twas all the dictate of ungovern'd rage, 
 He could not think thee traitor — 
 
 Cre. Whence could spring 
 The base suspicion that, suborned by me, 
 The prophet utter'd lies ? 
 
 Cho. Such were his words, 
 Hasty, unweighed, in an impassion'd hour — 
 Cre. Spoke he as if convinced ? 
 
 Cho. 'Tis not my task 
 To penetrate the hidden thoughts of kings. 
 Ask him, behold he comes — 
 
1 62 OEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 
 
 Oed. Thou regicide ! * 
 Dar'st thou with all the hardiness of guilt 
 Approach my palace ; thou whose treasonous schemes 
 Had plann'd my death, and would'st with rebel hand, 
 Have torn my sceptre from me ? Tell me, traitor ! 
 Didst thou esteem me fool or coward most, 
 Not to perceive thy arts, or not revenge 
 This violation of the rights of princes. 
 I tell thee, thou art fool and madman too, 
 Whose wild ambition hurries thee away 
 In quest of empire, which the people's voice 
 Alone can give, and pow'rful friends support. 
 
 Cre. When thou hast heard my firm reply — then judge 
 Whether I merit this severe reproach. 
 
 Oed. I know thy subtle powers of argument, 
 But all the force of words shall ne'er convince me 
 Thou art not still my most inveterate foe. 
 
 Cre. Yet hear me. 
 
 Oed. Talk not then of innocence 
 
 * The arrogant and tyrannical character of Oedipus is still further un- 
 folded to us in this sudden and insolent attack, on the weak basis of sus- 
 picion merely, upon Creon, that Creon whose virtues he had in the last Act 
 so highly applauded — that Creon, who, however, it must be owned, is 
 represented in very different colours in the Antigone of this author. 
 This circumstance, added to his contemptuous treatment of the venerable 
 priest of Apollo, and, consequently, of the oracle itself, still more and more 
 prepares the mind for the dreadful catastrophe that awaits him. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 163 
 
 Cre. Nay, if thou wilt not hear the voice of reason, 
 Thou grossly err'st. 
 
 Oed. And thou more grossly still, 
 If for this treatment of an injur'd friend 
 Thou hop'st to pass unpunished — 
 
 Cre. Prove the crime, 
 I will not murmur at the punishment. 
 
 Oed. Insidious traitor ! didst thou not advise 
 To summon hither this omniscient prophet ? 
 
 Cre. Mine was the counsel, and in like suspense 
 Should be repeated. 
 
 Oed. Speak, what length of time 
 Hath Laius — 
 
 Cre. What of Laius ? 
 
 Oed. Thus been * slain 
 By hands unknown ? 
 
 Cre. A long extent of years — 
 Oed. But tell me, did Tiresias then possess 
 This power of prophecy ? 
 
 Cre. Alike he shone, 
 Renown'd in wisdom, and alike revered. 
 
 Oed. Aught did he then predict concerning me ? 
 Cre. It never reach' d my ear. 
 
 * The word is sf>f>si, flow' d away; an expression most forcible in the 
 original. 
 
164 OEDIPUS TYRANtfUS. 
 
 Oed. What ! sought ye not 
 The author of the murd'rous deed ? 
 
 Cre. All search 
 Prov'd fruitless. 
 
 Oed. Why did this impostor, then, 
 So high renown'd, disclose not this fell secret ? 
 Cre. Silence doth best become the ignorant. 
 I can return no answer. 
 
 Oed. But of this, 
 At least, thou art the judge. 
 
 Cre. Of what ? O speak — 
 Oed. Thou know'st then, if this prophet of deceit 
 Had not been wrought on by thy artful wiles, 
 He ne'er had dar'd accuse me of this crime. 
 
 Cre. If this the seer hath done, the task is thine 
 To vindicate thyself : but of my crimes 
 I still am ignorant. 
 
 Oed. Thy crimes ? ask him. 
 But know — all, all thy arts shall never prove 
 Thy prince a murderer ! 
 
 Cre. Hast thou not espous'd 
 My sister ? 
 
 Oed. Yes, what then ? 
 
 Cre. With pow'r supreme 
 Reign you not jointly o'er the sons of Thebes ? 
 
 Oed. She shares at once my kingdom and my heart ; 
 Her will is mine : but thou — 
 
OEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 165 
 
 Cre. Do I not stand 
 The third in dignity ? 
 
 Oed. Most undeservedly ; 
 Thou hast betray' d thy friend. 
 
 Cre. Restrain awhile 
 The transport of thy rage, and be convinc'd — 
 Where is the man, who, blest with all that kings 
 And empires can bestow, without their cares, 
 Would barter for the pageant of a name, 
 That peace of mind which, empires with their wealth 
 Can never purchase, or when lost, restore ? * 
 I am not mad enough to wish the change, 
 Nor hath a scepter such alluring charms 
 To draw me from that purpose, while I share 
 The highest power a subject can enjoy, 
 Or prince confer : monarchs are oft the slaves 
 Of factious nobles, oft resign their crowns 
 At the mad ravings of the tyrant vulgar — 
 I fear them not ; suppliant they crouch to me, 
 All who to fortune, or to pow'r aspire, 
 And seek thy smile — Shall I this solid good 
 
 * This calm and dignified reply of Creon forms a striking contrast to 
 the impetuous and vindictive tirade just uttered by Oedipus, who, from 
 the excess of his resentful passion, is now sinking rapidly in the esteem of 
 his audience ; that audience whom his princely virtues had before so 
 deeply interested in his behalf. 
 
166 OEDIPUS TYRATSNUS. 
 
 Quit for a shadow? No, thou wrong'st rue, Prince: 
 
 I scorn the name of traitor, and would bare 
 
 The murderous plot to light, if aught I knew 
 
 Of lurking treason — Dost thou doubt my truth, 
 
 Go learn it of the Delphic oracles ; 
 
 And, if I have deceiv'd thee, let me suffer 
 
 All the collective wrath of heav'n and thee. 
 
 Shall prejudice usurp the force of truth, 
 
 And shall a monarch, fam'd like Oedipus 
 
 For wisdom as for virtue, doom to shame, 
 
 On blind suspicion's most fallacious test, 
 
 His bosom friend ? Remember, prince, the name 
 
 Of friend is sacred, and, to lose a friend, 
 
 A greater ill than loss of life itself — 
 
 My innocence revolving years will prove ; 
 
 But wait with temper ; for though curtain'd guilt 
 
 Is soon unveil'd, to heal the wounded fame 
 
 Of injur' d virtue asks an interval, 
 
 Far more extended in the march of Time. 
 
 Cho. Dread Sovereign, to his wise monitions bend 
 A willing ear ; nor let thy rage transport thee 
 Beyond the bounds of reason : rash resolves 
 Are often dearly rued — 
 
 Oed. What ! when the sword 
 Is lifted to my throat, must I submit, 
 With passive tameness, to the stroke that rends 
 My empire from me, and, with empire, life ? 
 

 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 167 
 
 Cre. Rash, haughty man, what will appease thy rage? 
 My exile ? 
 
 Oed. No, thy death.— 
 
 Cre. Must I then die 
 Without one proof of guilt ? 
 
 Oed. Thy death, I say, 
 Alone can satisfy my just revenge. 
 Cre. Thou ravest ! 
 
 Oed. I speak the purpose of my heart. 
 Cre. If so, 'tis prudent I consult my safety. 
 Oed. Thou traitor ! 
 
 Cre. But thou hast not prov'd me such. 
 Oed. Appointed by the Gods, to reign on earth, 
 Their awful substitute ! a king's commands 
 Must be obey'd. 
 
 Cre. If founded on injustice, 
 They ought to be resisted unto death — * 
 Oed. Thebes, hear'st thou this? 
 
 Cre. Yes, hears and triumphs too. 
 I am her son ; she taught my infant soul 
 The glorious precept — 
 
 * The government of Thebes was strictly monarchical, and the speech 
 of Oedipus is in unison with the despotic principles of such a government; 
 the answer of Creon was rather calculated for the meridian of Athens, 
 on whose theatre this fine drama was represented with an unbounded 
 prodigality of expence. 
 
168 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Cho. Princes, cease your strife ; 
 Jocasta hither from the palace bends : 
 Cease, or make her the umpire of your cause. 
 
 Joe. Whence rose this tumult? Thoughtless, cruel men, 
 Have you combined to multiply our griefs, 
 And plunge your country deeper in despair ? 
 Let each in silence to his home depart, 
 Nor, with your private, swell the public woes. 
 
 Cre. Sister, thy lord hath basely injur' d me ; 
 Nought but my ruin can appease his rage. 
 
 Oed. No, for this brother with insidious wiles 
 Hath plann'd my death~ 
 
 Cre. May ev'ry curse of heav'n 
 Light on me, if I e'er indulg'd the thought. 
 
 Joe. His vows, O king, revere, and plighted faith ; 
 If or thy country or thy queen be dear — 
 
 Cho. We too must join in the same ardent wish, 
 And plead his cause. 
 
 Oed. Must then a baffled prince 
 Submit to these reproaches from a subject ? 
 
 Cho. His blameless character, his solemfi oath, 
 At least demand respect. 
 
 Oed. What would you have, 
 Or know you ? 
 
 Cho. We implore thee, prince — 
 
 Oed. Speak on 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. ] 69 
 
 Cho. By friendship's holy name, to spurn not thus 
 One who so late was nearest to thy heart, 
 On mere suspicion. 
 
 Oed. Then you are resolv'd 
 To sacrifice me to his dark intrigues — 
 For he or I must fall. 
 
 Cho. By yon bright Sun, 
 The Leader of the flaming host of heav'n ; 
 I meant not thus — 'Tis agony of soul 
 For all the woes my bleeding country bears, 
 Makes me thus urgent. 
 
 Oed. Let him then be gone, 
 If I must be the victim. Not to his, 
 But thy request I yield — deep in this heart 
 Will ever dwell the memory of his crimes. 
 
 Cre. Unskill'd to yield, thy stubborn soul is torn 
 With furied pangs — those pangs are my revenge. 
 
 Oed. Hence, villain, hence, lest I revoke my words. 
 
 Cre. I go, unmov'd by all thy menaces, 
 That cannot shake my innocence, and these 
 Can best defend it. — [Exit Creon. 
 
 Cho. Use thy power, O queen, 
 To soothe his mind, and urge him to retire. 
 
 Joe. But first inform me whence this contest rose 
 
 Cho. From vague reports, uncertain and unjust — 
 To both injurious. 
 
1^0 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Joe. What were these reports ? 
 Cho. Press me no more, nor let us tear afresh 
 The wounds of Thebes. 
 
 Oed. This coldness in my cause 
 Becomes you not ; you slight the Gods vice-gerent, 
 And yet profess to venerate those Gods. 
 
 Cho. Have I not sworn by Phoebus, that my zeal 
 And duty to my prince remain unshaken ? 
 To love my country, and not love the man 
 Who snatch'd it from destruction, were to prove me 
 Bereft of reason : couldst thou stretch thine arm 
 Once more to save, how would her farthest bounds 
 Ring with thy triumph ! 
 
 Joe. I conjure thee, Prince, 
 Tell me whence sprang this strange dissension. 
 
 Oed. Know, 
 Dearest Jocasta, that, with artful wiles, 
 Thy brother hath conspir'd to seize my throne. 
 Joe. Your throne, my lord ? Whence could the thought arise? 
 Oed. 'Twas I, he said, that murder' d Laius — 
 
 Joe. Ha! 
 He could not speak the dictates of his heart. 
 
 Oed. Nay more, he hath suborn'd a crafty priest, 
 Who in the presence of near half my empire, 
 Urg'd home the charge — 
 
 Joe. Tho' all the race of priests 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 171 
 
 United to maintain the glaring lie, 
 
 Heed thou them not. No mortal eye can pierce 
 
 The dark decrees of fate : they all are bred 
 
 In ignorance, and traffic in deceit — 
 
 Thyself shall be the judge ; this very prince, 
 
 Long since, received an oracle, the work 
 
 Of these same priests, (for by the God himself 
 
 'Twas never utter'd, as events have prov'd ;) 
 
 With dreadful tidings that from our embrace 
 
 A son should spring, the murd'rer of his sire : 
 
 And now, we hear, that in some gloomy spot, 
 
 Where three ways meet, by robbers he was slain— 
 
 Yet chill'd with horror, ere the third dark morn 
 
 Rose on our babe, we pierc'd its infant feet, 
 
 And slaves convey' d it far away from Thebes, 
 
 To perish on the mountain's pathless heights. 
 
 Say then, could Phoebus utter this decree ? 
 
 For neither did the son his father slay, 
 
 Nor Laius perish by the fate he fear'd. 
 
 Such is the boasted truth of oracles — 
 
 And let the sullen bigot hear and tremble. 
 
 Be thou convinc'd of this ; that what the Gods 
 
 Would have us know, they can themselves reveal 
 
 Without the aid of these designing priests. 
 
 Oed. What sudden terrors seize me ! O, my queen, 
 Thy words have nll'd my inmost soul with horror — 
 
 Joe. How ? Wherefore ? 
 
1^2 OEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 
 
 Oed. Saidst thou not the prince was slain 
 Where three ways meet ? 
 
 Joe. I did ; 'twas thus affirm'd, 
 Nor is the fact disprov'd. 
 
 Oed. But say again, 
 Where, in what country did the murder happen ? 
 Joe. In Phocis, where the public roads divide 
 To Delphi and to Daulia. 
 
 Oed. Mighty Gods !— 
 How long the period since this dire event ? 
 
 Joe. Not long before thy reign o'er Thebes began, 
 The tidings were denounced. 
 
 Oed. Eternal Jove ! 
 To what am I reserved ! 
 
 Joe. Why is thy mind 
 Thus agitated ? 
 
 Oed. Ask not, but inform me, 
 What were the age, form, stature, of this Laius ? 
 
 Joe. In height majestic, years had scarcely ting'd 
 His locks with silver, and I've often thought 
 His form a faint resemblance of thy own. 
 
 Oed. Distraction ! — On my own unconscious head 
 I have call'd down the curse of every God ! 
 
 Joe. O heavens, I shudder as I gaze upon thee — 
 Oed. Too well, I fear, the prophet knew my fate ! 
 One farther circumstance will prove my guilt, 
 Or seal my innocence- — 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 173 
 
 Joe. Tho' my lips faulter, 
 Yet ask, and if I know, I will reveal it. 
 
 Oed. Went he attended with a chosen few, 
 Or with the pomp and splendor of a monarch ? 
 Joe. His train consisted but of five ; of these 
 One was the herald ; and one only chariot 
 That carried Laius. 
 
 Oed. Then my guilt is fix'd — 
 Glaring as yonder sun — but who brought back 
 The tidings of his death ? 
 
 Joe. One who alone 
 Escap'd the gen'ral slaughter. 
 
 Oed. Lives he now 
 Within this palace ? 
 
 Joe. No ; his lord no more, 
 When he beheld thee on the throne of Thebes, 
 With earnest supplication at my feet, 
 He sought permission to depart from Thebes, 
 To feed my distant flocks, nor I refus'd, 
 For he was ever the most faithful servant. 
 
 Oed. O haste, let him be summon'd instantly — 
 Joe. He shall ; but why thus eagerly desire 
 This stranger's coming ? 
 
 Oed. I am on the rack — 
 His answers may resolve my doubts, and oh ! 
 May plunge me in despair ; yet my resolve 
 Is fix'd to see him. 
 
174 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Joe. He will soon be here. 
 But oh ! my lord, permit thy faithful queen 
 To search the bottom of this secret wound 
 That rankles at thy heart. 
 
 Oed. Thou shalt know all — 
 Since thy own fate is closely link'd with mine, 
 To thee I will unbosom all my soul. 
 My father Polybus, enjoys the throne 
 Of Corinth ; Merope, his royal spouse, 
 By birth a Dorian — there I long possess'd 
 Riches and pow'r next only to supreme, 
 Till one event, most trivial in itself, 
 But dreadful in its issue, crush'd my joys — 
 A drunken courtier 'midst his cups proclaim' d 
 That Polybus was not my rightful sire. 
 Kindling at this, I scarce contain' d my rage 
 Till of my parents I enquir'd the truth 
 Of this base saying ; they alike incens'd, 
 Threatened with death the author of the charge. 
 This calm'd my present fears, but still my mind 
 Labour'd with secret doubts — Resolv'd to search 
 This mystery of my birth, by private roads 
 I sought the Pythian shrine ; the holy maid 
 Nought of my birth or parentage reveal'd; 
 But thus, convuls'd with raving extasies, 
 Read the dark page of fate — l c Thou, wretch, art doom'd 
 
OEDIPUS TYR ANNUS 175 
 
 " To stain thy mother's bed, from thence to raise 
 
 " A race accurst, and last with impious hand 
 
 " To slay the hoary sire who gave thee birth." 
 
 Shudd'ring with horror at these awful sounds, 
 
 With hasty step, from Corinth's fatal towers 
 
 I urg'd my way — Directed by the stars, 
 
 O'er trackless wastes and worse than Lybian wilds, 
 
 To that lone spot where murder' d Laius fell : 
 
 Ah, shake not thus, for I will tell thee all — 
 
 Just as I reach'd the pass, where three ways meet, 
 
 A chariot met my sight, where foremost sat, 
 
 Who seem'd a herald ; but within reclin'd 
 
 Another, and appear'd of regal port, 
 
 In age, and form, and every circumstance 
 
 Resembling most the man thy words describe. 
 
 Both rush'd against me, and with fury strove 
 
 To drive me back — resentment fir'd my soul — 
 
 Instant I fell'd the charioteer to earth, 
 
 And sprang to meet the chariot, where the chief 
 
 Observant sate, and twice with all his might 
 
 Smote me upon the temples ; but in death 
 
 Soon wail'd the rash assault — besmear'd with gore, 
 
 Beneath my staff he fell, and, at my feet, 
 
 With many a groan pour'd forth his forfeit life ! 
 
 His servants in the general contest fell ; 
 
 Not one, I thought, escap'd to tell the news. 
 
176 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 If this were Laius — who, thro' earth's wide bound, 
 
 Is half so wretched as myself, or who 
 
 Like me accurst ? No friendly citizen 
 
 Must succour my distress, or stranger ope 
 
 The hospitable door, but drive me hence, 
 
 Far hence, in desart solitudes to weep, 
 
 And seek, with howling savages, a home. 
 
 But oh ! my bitterest pang — these lips pronounc'd 
 
 The dire decree that drives me from the land, 
 
 From Thebes, from thee, and all my soul holds dear, 
 
 A FOUL, INCESTUOUS, BLOODY PARRICIDE ! ! ! 
 
 Ah whither shall I go ; to Corinth ? There 
 I seek incestuous transports — there I slay 
 The best of friends and fathers — Sure some fiend 
 Hurries me on thro' all this maze of guilt. 
 But O ! ye mightier Powers, who rule on high, 
 Ere such a scene of horror overwhelm me, 
 Crush this devoted head, and let me find 
 In death a respite from severer toils. 
 
 Cho. O King, we more than share in all thy griefs ; 
 Perhaps the shepherd may disperse your fears ; 
 Despair not — 
 
 Oed. All my hopes are center' d there — 
 
 Joe, What is he to reveal ? 
 
 Oed. If he confirm 
 The thing thou say'st, then am I free from guilt. 
 
OEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 177 
 
 Joe. What have I said ? 
 
 Oed. Thou saicTst the king was slain 
 By robbers on his journey ; if he fell 
 By numbers, I am safe — my single arm 
 The stranger slew ; but if by one alone, 
 
 I am THAT WRETCH — 
 
 Joe. Doubt not his first report, 
 From which he dares not swerve — Not only I, 
 The whole assembled city heard the tale. 
 But if he swerve, it still remains to prove 
 That oracles themselves are not impostures ; 
 For tho' their vaunted God had fix'd his death 
 On my poor murder' d child, that child thou seest 
 Perish'd long since on bleak Cith^ron's height — 
 Henceforth my soul is steeFd against belief 
 Of priests and prophecies.* 
 
 * In this place we find another instance of the consummate skill exerted 
 by Sophocles in the conduct of this tragedy, as well as direct proof of the 
 sublime precepts, both sacred and moral, inculcated by the ancients in 
 their dramatic compositions. The very argument which Jocasta makes use 
 of, both here and in a preceding passage, for treating with contempt and 
 neglect the oracles of the Gods, viz. the supposed failure of the prediction 
 in regard to the fate of Laius, recoils with tenfold force upon herself ; and, 
 owing to that prediction being strictly verified, eventually affords the 
 strongest possible ground for inculcating a profound and unfailing venera- 
 tion and obedience to the decrees of heaven. She is equally unfortunate 
 in her efforts to dissipate the fears of Oedipus, and all the arguments used 
 to remove them, tend most forcibly to corroborate his well-grounded 
 
1^8 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Oed. Nor without cause, 
 If thy report on truth's firm basis rest — • 
 But oh ! with speed dispatch some trusty slave 
 To bring this shepherd. 
 
 Joe. Thou shalt be obey'd 
 This instant ; let us go within the palace. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 STROPHE I. 
 
 Eternal Jove ! my heart inspire 
 With pure devotion's fervent zeal, to hear 
 Thy voice obedient, and thy laws revere ; 
 
 Those heav'n descended laws, almighty Sire ! 
 Which thy creative energy imprest 
 On animated nature's infant breast. 
 
 apprehensions. Struck with horror at the profaneness of her sentiments, 
 and to prevent any ill impression from being made on the audience, from 
 the example of so elevated a character, the Chorus commences the suc- 
 ceeding stanzas in a strain of genuine and animated piety, recommending 
 a due submission and resignation to those decrees, and deprecating the 
 anger of the Gods on account of the glaring impiety of the queen. From 
 the religious and moral sentiments diffused through it, as well as its high 
 poetic merit, this Chorus may justly be numbered among the sublimest 
 effusions of the kind in Sophocles. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 179 
 
 Daughters of light, unlike the race of earth, 
 Who range the tracts of day with * steps sublime ; 
 
 Still vigorous like the god who gave them birth, 
 Beyond the grasp of fate, or bound of time ! 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 'Twas insolence first drench'd in blood 
 The tyrant's hand ; but when elate with pride 
 He spurns at right, and dares the Gods deride, 
 
 From the proud precipice where late he stood, 
 That insolence shall dash him headlong down, 
 To wail his cruelty and ravish' d crown — 
 
 To thee, dread ruler of events below, 
 In deep humility behold we bend, 
 
 Wisdom and life from thee their fountain flow ; 
 Oh ! from yon heav'ns thy instant succour send. 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 Where do the destin'd sons of rapine rove, 
 Who slight the awful voice of nature's God, 
 Nor bend with rev'rence at his high abode — 
 
 The thunder, struggling in the grasp of Jove, 
 With strong vibration labours to be gone, 
 And sweep them to the gulph of Acheron — 
 
 * 'T^'moUs ycogctviuv 81' aMpu tsmMvtss — 
 
180 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 If vice triumphant rear her purple crest, 
 And injur'd virtue lift her voice in vain, 
 
 Still shall the tyrant fiend usurp the breast, 
 And vainly do we raise this choral strain. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Flaming with holy zeal no more 
 To Delphi shall the priests of Jove repair, 
 Or where Olympia's turrets rise in air, 
 
 With gifts and songs the gods implore ; 
 If impious tongues those rights profane, 
 And treat their mandates with disdain — 
 
 Lord of the universe ! their pride controul, 
 Avenge thine own ; assert Apollo's cause ; 
 
 And flash conviction on the stubborn soul 
 That spurns thy precepts, and resists thy laws. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 181 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 MESSENGER, CHORUS, JOCASTA, OEDIPUS, SHEPHERD. 
 
 JOCASTA. 
 
 O ages and chiefs of Thebes, 'tis my resolve,* 
 With incense, and with suppliant boughs, to seek 
 The temple of the Gods — your Prince, so high 
 For wisdom fam'd, and fortitude of soul, 
 Forgets that he is man. His mind is torn 
 With dismal terrors of he knows not what, 
 And shrinks at each unmeaning tale he hears : 
 
 * This sudden change in the conduct of Jocasta, from gross impiety to 
 penitential devotion; from avowed contempt of oracles to that implicit 
 belief in their truth, which hurries her a humble supplicant to the altars of 
 the Gods, is very remarkable; and arises not less from the dreadful 
 despondency in which she sees her unfortunate husband plunged, than the 
 secret anguish and remorse to which reflection has given birth. Amidst 
 her anxious endeavours to revive his sinking spirits, her own mind, on a 
 retrospective survey of events, is not without its awful forebodings, and 
 these drive her to the Temple; but she quickly relapses into infidelity 
 when the messenger from Corinth, in the next scene, announces the natural 
 death of Polybus, his supposed father : with how little reason, however, is 
 too soon apparent ! 
 
182 OEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 
 
 I urge, entreat, expostulate in vain — 
 Heav'n is provok'd, I fear ; on thee we call, 
 All-seeing Phoebus, nearest still to hear 
 The wretch's plaint, arm thou his wav'ring thought 
 With wonted firmness — He whose skilful hand 
 Should guide our bark, the pilot of the state, 
 Sinks at the helm, and the tumultuous sea 
 Will soon ingulph us all. 
 
 Messen. Inform me, strangers, 
 Where I shall find the palace of your king, 
 Or soonest where himself? — 
 
 Cho. This is his palace : 
 The king is now within ; thou seest his queen. 
 
 Mess, Is that indeed the wife of Oedipus ? 
 Health and felicity attend the queen — 
 On all who dwell beneath these royal roofs 
 May guardian Heav'n its choicest blessings shed — 
 
 Joe. I thank thee, stranger, for thy friendly greeting ; 
 But quickly tell me wherefore art thou come, 
 And what thy tidings ? 
 
 Mess. Welcome, mighty princess, 
 To thee and Oedipus — 
 
 Joe. What are they, say ; 
 And whence thyself? 
 
 Mess. From Corinth, and I bring 
 News that will cause you both delight and grief. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 183 
 
 Joe. Instant explain thy meaning — 
 
 Mess. If report 
 Lie not, the race of Isthmus have resolv'd 
 That Oedipus shall reign supreme in Corinth. 
 
 Joe. What — is not Polybus their king ? 
 
 Mess. He was — 
 But death hath laid the hoary king in dust. 
 
 Joe. How ! Polybus no more ? 
 
 Mess. May worse than death 
 Befall thy slave, if his report prove false — 
 
 Joe. Haste to thy master with the joyful news. 
 Fly instant ; — where, ye lying oracles ! 
 Diviners, where is now your boasted truth, 
 Prophets and Priests ? For Oedipus long since, 
 Fearing lest he should shed this monarch's blood, 
 As Phoebus had foretold, from Corinth fled 
 In willing exile, Now forsooth we hear 
 That by the common course of fate he died, 
 Without or fraud, or violence. 
 
 Oed. O ! my queen, 
 Why am I summoned from my palace hither ? 
 
 Joe. For this ; to learn the truth of oracles : 
 That stranger there will best explain my words. 
 
 Oed. Who is he? Whence, and what his message, say. 
 
 O 
 
184 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Joe. He comes from Corinth, and the tidings bears, 
 That Polybus, your father, is no more. 
 
 Oed. Is this thy message ? is it thus indeed ? 
 
 Mess. Ev'n as the queen hath said— 
 
 Oed. But speak again : 
 How died the Prince ; by treason or disease ? 
 
 Mess. Ah, Prince, a little violence will bow 
 The languid limbs of age. 
 
 Oed. Disease then crush'd 
 The good old monarch — 
 
 Mess. Yes, disease in part, 
 And part the pressure of a length of years, 
 For he had measur'd out the life of man.* 
 
 Oed. 'Tis well — what blinded wretch will now regard 
 Altars, and priests, and birds of ominous wing, 
 Screaming aloft ? whose false and base decrees 
 Had plung'd my hand in blood, a father's blood, 
 Who died, it seems, remote from Thebes and me, 
 Bow'd down with weight of years : these hands unstained, 
 And guiltless of his blood — Unless, perchance, 
 Corroding anguish for the loss of me 
 Prey'd on his heart, and hurried on his fate. 
 
 * Mexxpco ye G-v^srp6v[jt,svos xgovoo. 
 The same expression occurs in the Psalms ; 
 
 " Make me to know the measure of my days/' 39th Psalm, 4th verse. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 185 
 
 Thus only could I cause his death : but he 
 Sleeps in the bosom of the grave ; nor priests, 
 Nor oracles shall break his long repose. 
 
 Joe. Did I not tell thee this ? 
 
 Oed. Thou didst ; but still 
 Severest apprehensions shook my soul. 
 
 Joe. Away with them for ever — 
 
 Oed. But the bed 
 Of incest — how it harrows up my thoughts ! 
 
 Joe. Let not vain terrors agitate thy mind ; 
 Man is the sport of chance ; the pow'rs divine, 
 Lost in the nobler pleasures of the skies, 
 Heed not our reptile race — The task be his 
 To husband well his life, and rove at large 
 Where fancy leads, or pleasure points the way. 
 Fear not th' incestuous bed, nor be the slave 
 Of frantic zeal or superstitious dreams : 
 For oft, amidst the slumbers of the night, 
 Have men in visions reaped incestuous joys — 
 True happiness is his, who boldly spurns 
 Such vain chimseras. 
 
 Oed. True ; but still she lives, 
 This mother, whom I dread, and I must fly 
 Th' accurst embrace— 
 
 Joe. Go to thy father's grave ; 
 Let that inform thee what thou hast to fear. 
 
186 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Oed. Yet, yet I shudder ; and, while she survives, 
 I still must tremble. 
 
 Mess. Say, illustrious prince, 
 What is this woman whom thou fear'st so much ? 
 Oed. 'Tis Merope, my friend, the late espous'd 
 OfPolybus— 
 
 Mess. But whence proceed your fears ? 
 Oed. From oracles most dreadful to relate ! 
 Mess. And may a stranger know them ? 
 
 Oed. Thou shalt hear 
 Apollo hath denounc'd, that I should stain 
 A mother's bed with incest, and these hands 
 Drench in paternal blood — For this, long since, 
 I fled from Corinth, and have here enjoy' d 
 Each earthly bliss, save that most sweet of all, 
 The dear delight a parent's presence gives. 
 Mess. Was this the motive of thy exile ? 
 
 Oed. This, 
 This dread alone of parricidal guilt — 
 
 Mess. What if I prove the messenger of joy, 
 And bring thee tidings such as may disperse 
 Thy every doubt ? 
 
 Oed. Ah, dearest stranger, speak them ; 
 Thy recompense shall be most princely. 
 
 Mess. Yes — 
 I come to chase thy fears, relieve thy doubts, 
 And hail thee back to Corinth — 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 18/ 
 
 Oed. Never, never ! 
 While one of those dear parents still survives, 
 Will I return to Corinth ! 
 
 Mess. Prince, I see 
 Thy ignorance hath caused these idle fears. 
 
 Oed. Indeed ! By heav'n inform me where I err. 
 Mess. If for this cause thou fied'st — 
 
 Oed. The curse denounc'd 
 By Phoebus, drove me into willing exile. 
 
 Mess. The dread of murder, and incestuous crimes — 
 Oed. The same. 
 
 Mess. Thy fears are groundless — 
 
 Oed. Not if these 
 My parents were, or true the voice of Jove. 
 
 Mess. Know then that Polybus by ties of blood 
 To thee was never bound. 
 
 Oed. How ? Speak again : 
 Not Polybus my sire ! 
 
 Mess. No more than mine — * 
 Oed. And yet he call'd me son ! 
 
 * The wEfMrenfj, or change of fortune to the reverse of what was 
 expected, so artfully introduced here by Sophocles, has been the admira- 
 tion of all the critics from the days of Aristotle, who dilates upon it, to the 
 present. Thinking to annihilate all his fears at once, by assuring him that 
 he had nothing to apprehend on the ground of his Corinthian connections 
 — nothing on the score of Polybus, or Merope, in respect to imagined 
 
188 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Mess. His by adoption— 
 These hands first gave thee to his fond embrace. 
 
 Oed. And could an alien kindle in his soul 
 A father's transports ? 
 
 Mess. He had never known 
 A father's joys. 
 
 Oed. Was I by purchase thine, 
 Or may I hail thee by a father's name ? 
 
 Mess. I found thee in a deep and darksome glen 
 
 Of Mount ClTH^ERON 
 
 Oed. Ha ! what led thee there ? 
 Mess. My flocks, that ranged the mountain's verdant sides. 
 Oed. Thou wert a shepherd then, it seems ? — 
 
 Mess. I was ; 
 And more, the shepherd that preserved thy life — 
 
 Ged. What had befall'n me, ere thy guardian hand 
 Snatch'd me from death ? 
 
 murder or incest — the Shepherd unconsciously unfolds the dreadful secret, 
 and plunges him into a fathomless abyss of misery, demonstrating to the 
 unhappy monarch that he is the identical parricide, and the incestuous 
 person alluded to by the oracle ! The rapidity with which the dialogue 
 flows in this place — the short and broken sentences of the speakers — excite 
 particular interest, and mark the hand of a master. How deeply is it to 
 be lamented that of above one hundred tragedies said to have been 
 written by Sophocles, only seven should have reached posterity entire ! 
 (Vide Fabricii Biblioth. Grsec. vol. i. p. 595.) 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 189 
 
 Mess. The joints of thy own feet 
 Will best inform thee what — 
 
 Oed. Ah, why repeat 
 That ancient malady ? 
 
 Mess. Mine was the hand 
 That loosed their tendons from the intangling cords. 
 Oed. Thus early did my woes commence ? 
 
 Mess. To this 
 Thou ow r est the name of Oedipus. — * 
 
 Oed. Ah me !— 
 Which of my parents could be thus inhuman ; 
 Canst thou inform me ? 
 
 Mess. That he best can tell 
 Who gave thee to me. 
 
 Oed. Then thou found'st me not ; 
 But from another didst receive me ? 
 
 Mess. Yes, 
 A brother shepherd gave thee to my charge. 
 
 Oed. O speak his name, his residence, whate'er 
 Thou know'st of this same shepherd. 
 
 Mess. He was call'd 
 A servant of king Laius. — 
 
 * The name of Oedipus was given him h& to olMv rovg mola$ : on account 
 of the tumour and perforation of his feet The direct allusion to this 
 personal calamity suffers not a shadow of a doubt of his guilt to remain 
 in the mind of Oedipus. The total silence of Jocasta on this occasion is 
 very remarkable ; she appears stupified at the intelligence. 
 
190 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Oed. Laius ? ha ! 
 The same who governed Thebes ? 
 
 Mess. The very same- 
 He was his shepherd. 
 
 Oed. Is he still alive ; 
 Could I behold him ? 
 
 Mess. These his countrymen 
 Can better tell thee. 
 
 Oed. O my friends, declare 
 If aught ye know, or aught, perchance, have heard 
 Of such a shepherd ; whether he resides 
 At Thebes, or in the country — instant speak — 
 'Tis of the last importance to our welfare. 
 
 Cho. O king, if right we judge, he seems the man 
 Whom thou hast lately summon'd : but the queen 
 Is best acquainted. 
 
 Oed. Princess, dost thou know 
 Whether the man this shepherd hath describ'd, 
 And he, whom thou hast sent for, be the same ? 
 
 Joe. I know not what he said, or whom he meant — * 
 
 * Jocasta, who had all this time been listening, with profound attention, 
 to the replies of the Messenger during this most interesting discourse, having 
 learned enough to convince her that Oedipus was the actual criminal 
 alluded to by the oracle, affects here an ignorance and an indifference ill 
 suited to the agonizing feelings to which that discourse had given rise. 
 Most urgent is she to dissuade the unhappy prince from enquiring farther 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 191 
 
 Nor is there aught of moment in his words ; 
 Dark, idle words ; thou art too anxious, prince : 
 Act not thus rashly. 
 
 Oed. What ? Must I neglect 
 To trace this mystery of my birth, when now 
 The path is open, and the prospect fair ? 
 
 Joe. By heav'n forbear ; I tell thee 'tis a rock 
 Thy peace will split on — if thou valuest life 
 Or happiness, forbear — O this torn heart — 
 
 Oed. Hence, woman, with thy fears ; I am resolv'd — 
 Were all my ancestors a race of slaves, 
 'Twere no disgrace to thee — I sav'd your empire— 
 In that one deed was more nobility, 
 Than all the glories of your line can boast. 
 
 Joe. By all thy soul holds dear, beware the search— 
 
 Oed. Not all thy eloquence can shake my purpose 
 To trace this matter to the very source. 
 
 Joe. Oh hear my better counsel, and forbear : 
 Shun it as death — 
 
 Oed. Thy counsel but involves me 
 In tenfold error. 
 
 into the dreadful mystery of his birth ; but being utterly unable to do so, 
 finding all irretrievably lost, in a fit of despair and horror, she rushes from 
 his presence with a determined resolution to effect the dreadful purpose 
 unfolded to us in the subsequent Act. The punishment of impiety, fol- 
 lowing so immediately upon the reiteration of the crime, has the full moral 
 effect upon the audience intended by the author. 
 
192 OEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 
 
 Joe. Wretched, wretched prince I 
 May heav'n still hide the secret from thy view, 
 Nor curse thee with the knowledge of thy birth — 
 
 Oed. Let other messengers be sent, in haste, 
 To bring this lingering shepherd to our presence : 
 And leave the queen to glory in her birth, 
 And ancient lineage. 
 
 Joe. Wretched, wretched prince — 
 Obstinate, headlong, to thy own destruction, 
 I leave thee to a search which thou shalt rue 
 For ever — treasure in thy heart those words ; 
 Remember they're my last — my last ! farewell — 
 
 [Exit hastily Jocasta. 
 
 Cho. Sire, didst thou mark Jocasta' s fix'd despair ! 
 With what confused and eager looks she fled ; 
 Much, much I fear her silence does presage 
 Events of dreadful issue ! 
 
 Oed. Let them come : 
 Still my resolve is fix'd to penetrate 
 This mighty cloud that hangs around my birth — 
 Whate'er my fate, I must not, will not more 
 Be kept in darkness : this it is that stings 
 Her haughty soul : she thinks that I shall prove 
 Of rank, and parents, humbler than her own — 
 Blind woman ! but my parents were not mean. 
 Thou wert my mother, fortune ; and thy son 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 193 
 
 Glories in his descent — sublimer far 
 Than all the kings of earth — the kindred months, 
 Offspring of time, coeval with the world, 
 Salute me as they roll their mighty round, 
 And call me brother — Led thro' arduous toils, 
 By you I triumph on the throne of Thebes, 
 Power in my nod, and fortune in my smile : 
 And from the glorious height look down secure, 
 Whoe'er my sire, a monarch or a slave. 
 
 strophe. 
 
 A prophet's spirit warms my soul ! 
 I see, I see the radiant visions dawn ; 
 
 And all the scenes of fate unroll ! 
 By great Olympus, ere another morn, 
 Cith^ron, skirt thy dusky front with gold, 
 Thou shalt the long^ mysterious maze unfold. 
 
 Then to our king shall swell the choral song, 
 Our feet in mystic dance more swiftly move ; 
 
 And while our grateful measures we prolong, 
 Applauding Phoebus shall the strain approve. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE. 
 
 What bright celestial gave thee birth ? 
 O thou, whose wisdom speaks that birth divine : 
 
 Renown'd above the sons of earth ; 
 From Jove descended, or the sister Nine ! 
 
194 OEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 
 
 Say art thou sprung from sylvan Pan's embrace, 
 With some fair daughter of eetherial race ; 
 Or wert thou nourish'd in Cyllene's groves, 
 
 Where Mercury the swifter nymphs pursues ; 
 Or on the sacred hills where Bacchus roves, 
 
 And courts in laurel bow'rs the bashful muse ? 
 
 Oed. Friends, if my judgment err not, yonder sage, 
 This way advancing, is the same whom late 
 We summon'd hither ; both in age, and mien, 
 Resembling whom this stranger hath describ'd. 
 My servants too support him : you, perchance, 
 May better know him. 
 
 Cho. 'Tis the same, my lord, 
 The faithful shepherd of our good old king — 
 Oed. Stranger, is this the man ? 
 
 Mess. I know him well — 
 Oed. Old man, draw near ; look up with confidence, 
 And answer faithfully what I shall ask — 
 Didst thou not live with Laius ? 
 
 Shep. Yes, my lord ; 
 Nor was I of the hireling train, but bred 
 Within this palace — 
 
 Oed. What thy office ? speak. 
 Shep. My office was to tend the royal sheep — 
 Oed. In what fair region of this mighty empire ? 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 1 95 
 
 Shep. On Mount Cith^ron, and the neigbouring plains. 
 Oed. Say, dost thou recollect that stranger s face ? 
 Shep. That stranger— who ? Whence is he ? What his crime ? 
 Oed. I say again, reflect — and call to mind 
 If thou hast ever had, or intercourse, 
 Or converse with him — 
 
 Shep. Sire, with age, and cares, 
 My memory fails — 
 
 Mess. Nor is there cause of wonder : 
 But I'll refresh his memory, and recount 
 Some ancient facts he soon will call to mind. 
 I am that shepherd who full many a moon 
 Thro' long successive years, thy friendship shar'd 
 On bleak Cithjeron's height — early as spring 
 Bade the young herbage shoot ; ev'n till the rise 
 Of pale Arcturus — and when winter's frosts 
 Deform'd the year, each with his sev'ral flocks 
 Departed homeward ; to my cottage I, 
 And thou to Laius' palace : have these scenes 
 Entirely fled thy thoughts ? 
 
 Shep. Almost they had : 
 For 'tis a long, long period since — 
 
 Mess. 'Tis true : 
 But can'st thou, shepherd, to remembrance call 
 An infant whom I once receiv'd from thee, 
 And promis'd all a father's fostering care ? 
 
196 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Shep. An infant, friend? What means thy question? 
 
 Mess. This, 
 This is that infant whom thou now behold'st — 
 
 Shep. Away with thee, thou rav'st — perdition seize 
 Thy traitor's tongue — 
 
 Oed. Why art thou thus incens'd ? 
 Thou art thyself more worthy of reproof. 
 Shep. In what have I offended ? 
 
 Oed. By thy rage, 
 And silence touching this same child. 
 
 Shep. Ah, Sir, 
 He knew not what he said — 
 
 Oed. Ease my suspense, 
 Or by the Gods I'll force the secret from thee — 
 Shep. Ah, ven'rate hoary age ! 
 
 Oed. Quick, bind his hands — 
 Shep. What must I do, my lord, or what disclose ? 
 Oed. Delay not, but inform me, didst thou give 
 An infant to this man ? — 
 
 Shep. I did, and oh ! 
 Death had that moment been my happiest boon — 
 
 Oed. This day thou diest, unless I know the whole 
 Of this dark scene. 
 
 Shep. Ah, spare the dire recital : 
 'Tis death to tell thee— 
 
 Oed. Dost thou trifle with me ? 
 
OEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 197 
 
 Shep. Did I not say I gave the child ? 
 
 Oed. Go on — 
 Whence came he ? Was he thine by birth, or who 
 Consign'd him to thy charge ? 
 
 Shep, He was not mine ; 
 Another's hand consign'd him to my care- 
 er. What other ? Speak his name, and where he dwells— 
 Shep. By all the pow'rs above, enquire no more : 
 I do conjure thee — 
 
 Oed. If I ask again, 
 Wretch, thou shalt die — 
 
 Shep. In yonder palace born — 
 Oed. Sprung from a slave, or was the king his sire ? 
 Shep. Oh misery to declare — 
 
 Oed. Oh ! Death to hear ! 
 Yet speak — 
 
 Shep. He was suppos'd the king's own son — 
 But well Jocasta knows the gloomy truth ; 
 She can instruct thee best — 
 
 Oed. Didst thou from her 
 Receive the child ? 
 
 Shep. 'Twere fruitless to deny 
 What fate itself reveals. 
 
 Oed. What was her purpose ? 
 Shep. That I should kill it— 
 
 Oed. What, destroy the child ? 
 Bloody, inhuman parent ! — 
 
198 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Shep. Dire affright, 
 From dreadful oracles, compell'd the queen 
 To this unnatural deed. 
 
 Oed. How, oracles ? 
 What did they threaten ? 
 
 Shep. That this son should slay 
 Those who begat him — 
 
 Oed. But if such her fears, 
 Why didst thou give it to this shepherd's care ? 
 
 Shep. Compassion for the infant wrung my soul ; 
 I hop'd he would have borne his charge away, 
 Far, far from Thebes, and these his native roofs — 
 Fatal mistake ! that life to him was death, 
 Preserv'd to long, unutterable woes — 
 For oh ! if thou he'st he, thou art indeed 
 The most ill-fated, most accurst of men — 
 
 Oed. 'Tis done ; the tenfold mystery bursts to light ; 
 
 I AM THAT MOST ILL-FATED, MOST ACCURST 
 
 Thou sun, farewell ; why smile thy beams on me, 
 
 Whom murder blackens, and whom incest stains ? — 
 
 Incest and murder of the deepest hue : 
 
 A father slain, a mother's bed defil'd ! — 
 
 Come night, come horror, shield me from his rays ; 
 
 Plunge me in thick impenetrable glooms, 
 
 Black as my crimes, and boundless as my guilt. — 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 199 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 O man, thou shadow of a shade ! 
 How soon thy brightest glories fade ! 
 What higher boon could fortune give, 
 What nobler rapture man receive, 
 Than late she shower'd on our devoted king ; 
 Only to plunge him deeper in despair, 
 And ratify the solemn truths we sing ? 
 At yon sad spectacle of woe, 
 Who can refrain the starting tear ! 
 What tongue the bitter plaint forbear, 
 " That mis'ry is the lot of all below ! " 
 Blind fav'rite of a nymph more blind ! 
 She bade thee dart thy rapid flight 
 Beyond the bound to mortal pride assigned ; 
 And placed thee on her dizziest height — 
 Then thine arm the monster slew, 
 Dreadful with her forked fang, 
 Whose eagle pinions mock'd the wind, 
 While ravening, as in quest of blood she flew, 
 To Thebes the prophecies of death she sang— 
 For this, thy hand the scepter shar'd, 
 An empire thy sublime reward — 
 
 P 
 
200 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 But now what sounds of horror meet mine ear ? 
 
 How art thou blasted in thy bright career ! 
 
 How chang'd in one dark, fatal hour, 
 
 Dash'd from the soaring pinnacle of pow'r, 
 
 And all that mortals vaunt of high and great, 
 
 To wrestle with the toils of fate — 
 
 Thrice wretched prince, renown'd in vain ! 
 
 Since all the trophies of thy fame 
 
 Throw but a guilty splendour round thy woes — 
 
 Unchill'd with horror, who those crimes shall name 
 
 Whose dark, indelible, eternal stain, 
 
 With infamy pollutes thy bed, 
 
 And dooms to vengeance thy devoted head. 
 
 How could thy conscious bed so long sustain 
 
 Its guilty load, thro" night's incumbent gloom, 
 
 Nor start with horror, and a voice assume ! 
 
 But fate hath bared the impious deed to light, 
 
 Hath bar'd to our astonish'd sight 
 
 A father murder d hy his child, 
 
 A mother hy that sons embrace dejiVd. 
 
 O that these eyes might ne'er behold thee more, 
 
 But distant far their duteous sorrows pour : 
 
 By thee we rais'd them up to life and light, 
 
 Only to plunge them in eternal night ! 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 201 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 CHORUS, MESSENGER, OEDIPUS, CREON. 
 
 ENTER IN HASTE ANOTHER MESSENGER. 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 IVJLosT honour' d chiefs of this once happy land. 
 
 Rouse all the resolution man can boast 
 
 To fortify your souls, while I relate 
 
 A direr tale than ever reach' d your ears — 
 
 Unfold a scene to your astonish' d eyes 
 
 More black with woe than e'er those eyes beheld — 
 
 Not the broad Danube's waves, nor Phasis' stream, 
 
 Can purge away the complicated crimes 
 
 That stain these guilty roofs — in dark array 
 
 They rise to view, and, as they rise, pollute 
 
 The sickening light — fate rules the gloomy hour, 
 
 And rash despair, impatient, rushes on 
 
 To deeds of added horror — 
 
 Cho. Added horror ! 
 
202 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 We thought the catalogue of this day's woes 
 Already swell'd beyond the pow'r of fate. 
 
 Mess. No — to complete our sufferings, she reserves 
 A stroke more dreadful still — the queen is slain ! 
 
 Cho. Jocasta slain — by whom ? What daring hand — 
 Mess. She dar'd herself the deed : no conscious eye 
 Was witness to her death. What we beheld 
 These faultering lips shall tell. — With hasty step, 
 Enrag'd, she burst within the palace gates — 
 Then, rushing to the bridal chamber tore, 
 With savage fury, her disorder'd hair ; 
 Invoking Laius from the tomb to view 
 A wretch — the fatal source of all his woes — 
 Who bore his murderer — clasp'd the parricide — 
 That son, that murd'rer, in abhorr'd embrace — 
 And stain'd his bed with incest — then with shrieks 
 Of wildest grief, she wail'd th' accursed couch 
 That witness'd to her dark, forbidden joys — 
 Nor heard we more ; for instant we beheld 
 The wretched Oedipus, in frantic mood, 
 Raving thro' all the dome — with thund'ring voice 
 Commanding us to bring him sword or spear, 
 To end his hated being — " Lead me where 
 These eyes, ere veil'd in darkness, may behold 
 That injur'd form I dare not call my wife — 
 Her who begat me, her, whose glowing limbs, 
 
OEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 203 
 
 Unconscious, clasp'd the husband in the child." — 
 
 Instant, by some inspiring daemon led, 
 
 He rush'd upon the double doors that clos'd 
 
 The unhappy queen, and from their brazen bolts 
 
 Tore them — while far and wide the hollow dome 
 
 Resounded back his cries : but soon new scenes 
 
 Of horror met our sight, the royal fair 
 
 All pale and breathless, in the fatal noose 
 
 Entangled — Shuddering at the view, the prince 
 
 Recoil' d : then loosing the suspended cord, 
 
 Heav'd a deep groan, and flung him on the ground, 
 
 Convuls'd awhile with agonies of grief— 
 
 When sudden starting, from her robe he tore 
 
 The golden buckle that adorn'd her side, 
 
 And madly plung'd the points into his eyes — 
 
 Exclaiming, " Never more shall I behold 
 
 Or thee, unhappy woman, or the race 
 
 Sprung from thy loins." — Bellowing these horrid plaints, 
 
 He pierc'd, and from their mangled sockets tore, 
 
 The balls of sight : instant the gushing blood 
 
 Its sluices burst, and, rushing down his cheeks, 
 
 Pour'd the black flood that stain'd his princely form. 
 
 Such are the complicated ills that crush'd 
 
 This wretched pair — Who lately reign'd supreme 
 
 In mutual bliss, are now supreme alone 
 
 In misery : curst with more than common woes ! — 
 
204 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Ah ! how hath one hlack fatal morn o'ercast 
 The cloudless scene ! how blasted all their joys ! 
 On ev'ry side are heard the mingled sounds 
 Of groans, despair and death — th' appalling cries 
 Of murder, blood, and incest — all the stores 
 Of secret anguish, and severe distress, 
 At once discharging their collective rage. 
 Cho. Where is the hapless prince ? 
 
 Mess. Throw wide, he cries, 
 Throw wide the gates — and let all Thebes behold 
 The murderer of his sire, with incest black, 
 With blood defil'd, and crimes without a name — 
 Lead me, O lead me from these guilty roofs, 
 To banishment, to death — that banishment 
 My lips denounced will be my best relief 
 From all th' insufferable ills that rush, 
 With overwhelming rage, at once upon me — 
 But words are weak : behold a scene that speaks 
 Beyond the boldest pow'rs of eloquence ; 
 A scene so full of horror, it would move 
 His most inveterate foe. 
 
 Cho. Ah ! sight of grief 
 Beyond whate'er my darkest fears had fram'd. 
 Rash man ! what furious daemon urg'd thee on 
 To this dire act ; thus to accumulate 
 Woe upon woe to crush thy hapless head ? 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 205 
 
 Most wretched of the wretched ! my swoll'n heart 
 Had much to utter ; but must burst itself 
 In silence, for the sight of such distress 
 Hath struck me dumb for ever — 
 
 
 
 ENTER OEDIPUS. 
 
 Oed. Hah ! where am I ? 
 What plaintive accents vibrate on my ear, 
 That seem to pity one whom fate hath plac'd 
 Beyond the pow'r of pity to relieve ! — 
 Fortune, my mother, whither art thou fled ? 
 
 Cho. She hath forsaken thee; hath plung'd thee down 
 In an abyss of woes. 
 
 Oed. O dark ! dark ! dark ! 
 Dark without dawn of hope, or beam of day ! 
 I stand envelop'd in eternal shade : 
 Remembrance like a fury stings my soul, 
 While headlong passion sharpens ev'ry goad, 
 And drives me on to madness — 
 
 Cho. Doubly curst 
 Both in a husband's and a father's hopes, 
 Well may thy reason fail thee in this hour 
 Of multifold affliction. 
 
 Oed. Art thou here ! 
 Thou, once my friend and guide in happier hours — 
 
206 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 This, this was Oedipus. — Abject and blind, 
 Thou wilt not leave me to severer pangs. 
 
 Cho. What hast thou done? What vengeful god impell'd 
 To this mad deed ? 
 
 Oed. Phoebus himself, — yes, Phoebus, 
 
 o 
 
 Is that avenging, that impulsive pow'r — 
 
 That I am blind, impute to me alone, 
 
 'Twas I who quench'd those orbs, whose light but serv'd 
 
 To kindle horror, and awake despair. — 
 
 Cho. Ah ! dreadful truth ! 
 
 Oed. What, what remains 
 Grateful to me, in voice, or sight, or sound ? 
 Each joy extinct, and earth one barren void. 
 Rouse you, my friends, in injur'd virtue's cause ; 
 Drive from your land this pestilential bane, 
 This monster, black with incest and with blood ; 
 This most abhorr'd of gods, and all mankind. 
 
 Cho. Thy sufF rings make thee rave — Ah ! fatal hour 
 When first I hail'd thee on the throne of Thebes ! 
 
 Oed. And oh ! more fatal hour that saw my feet 
 Loos'd from their bands on bleak Cithaeron's height — 
 Curst be the hand that loos'd them — ? Twas not life 
 That hand bestow' d ; 'twas death— I then had died 
 In innocence, nor known, nor caus'd a pang ! 
 
 Cho. Oh thus had fate ordain'd— 
 
 Oed. I had not then 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 207 
 
 Imbrued my hand in blood — I had not then 
 Receiv'd Jocasta to my guilty bed — 
 I should not then— 
 
 Cho. How ! What shall I advise thee, 
 Since death itself were better far than life 
 Wasted in mis'ry and perpetual gloom ? 
 
 Oed. The loss of sight, my friends, I least bewail — 
 Ah ! with what * eyes in Pluto's dark domain, 
 Could Oedipus have view'd his murder' d sire, 
 Cover' d with wounds, and welt'ring in the blood 
 His impious offspring spilt- — or her who bore 
 The parricidal wretch, whose foul embrace 
 Hath stain'd the conscious womb that gave him life ? 
 Could e'er this heart a parent's joy have known, 
 To view the offspring of that foul embrace, 
 Tho' fair in virgin beauty, hast'ning on 
 Thro' long progressive misery, to complete 
 The measure of myVoes, and share my guilt ! 
 Ah ! never, never could these eyes behold them ; 
 
 * It appears from this passage, that the ancients supposed the same 
 qualities both of mind and body to be possessed by the dead which they 
 had while living. 
 
 Thus Virgil, 
 
 Laniatum corpore toto 
 
 Deiphobum videt, et lacerum crudeliter ora. 
 
 iEneid, lib. 6, 495. 
 
208 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Never the lofty citadels of Thebes, 
 Her gilded palaces, her glittering fanes, 
 And her bold race that own'd me king in vain, 
 Since now debas'd below the meanest slave — 
 Oh painful, bitter change ! These lips pronounced 
 The curst decree that drives me from the land ; 
 The execrated scorn of you and heav'n, 
 A foul, incestuous, bloody parricide. — 
 Thus with a thousand objects compassed round, 
 To wound anew my agonizing heart, 
 Blindness is but relief from weightier ills — 
 Grant me, ye mighty rulers of the world, 
 Some pow'r to bar the passages of sound, 
 To shut each sense, and quite extinguish thought ; 
 For ev'ry sense is but alive to woe — 
 Ah why, Cithseron ! did thy high-arch'd glooms 
 Lend their broad shade to screen my infant head ? 
 Why did not some devouring savage rend 
 My scatter'd limbs, and give them to the winds ; 
 That my disgraceful birth might never stain 
 The annals of mankind ? — O Polybus ! 
 And thou, O Corinth — falsely deem'd my country- 
 How have ye nourish'd in these princely robes, 
 Beneath this specious form, a canker' d wound, 
 Putrid and rank ! for now I stand confess'd 
 Base in myself, and base in my descent — • 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 209 
 
 Ye conscious forests — ye wide-spreading glades — 
 
 And thou dark avenue — where three ways meet — 
 
 That drank the blood of my expiring sire ; 
 
 Witness what guilty transports fired my breast 
 
 When I beheld his hoary figure fall 
 
 Prostrate and bite the ground — how am I chang'd ! 
 
 How dearly have I rued the triumph — bought 
 
 At the high price of ev'ry other joy ! 
 
 HurFd headlong from the bliss of gods, to wail 
 
 With daemons in the hell of deep despair ! 
 
 FATAL, FATAL NUPTIALS ! NlGHT OF HORROR ! 
 
 How have ye stamp'd pollution on the names 
 Of father, brother, son — how burst the bands 
 Of dear relation ! — Sure around the bed 
 Some fierce presiding daemon fix'd his stand, 
 And sow'd the seeds of ev'ry baneful ill. 
 Reflection shudders at the black detail — 
 
 1 cannot bear the retrospect : my tongue 
 Cleaves to my mouth, and ev'ry sinew shrinks — 
 Wherefore, by all the gods, approach, and slay 
 This victim to my own and others crimes — 
 
 Or bear me to some bleak and barren isle, 
 Where sound of human voice was never heard ; 
 Or plunge me in the deep with all my crimes — 
 Fear not, my friends— approach ; black as I am, 
 Ye cannot, by the touch, partake the guilt, 
 Whose weight shall crush this guilty head alone^. 
 
210 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Cho. Most opportunely Creon this way bends ; 
 Creon, on whom thy pow'r and kingly sway 
 Will soon devolve, as next of royal line : 
 His counsel best will guide us thro' this maze 
 Of intricate suspense — 
 
 Oed. What say'st thou — Creon ? 
 That Creon, whom I late so basely injur' d — 
 What can I say to him ; or how find words 
 At once expressive of my shame and grief! 
 
 Cre. Think not I come to triumph o'er the fall'n, 
 Most wretched prince, or aggravate thy woes 
 By insolent reproach — gladly I bring 
 Whate'er is mine of counsel or support. 
 But ye, my Thebans, if ye shudder not 
 At those impurities the very sight 
 Of * such deep guilt imparts, at least revere 
 
 * This speech of Creon has been censured as cruel and contradictory. 
 Creon, however, through the whole of this play, (however differently drawn, 
 as before hinted, in the Antigone) appears a respectable character : he 
 interests himself much in discovering the true sense of the oracle, and in 
 contriving such measures as may best alleviate the miseries of the city. 
 His unwillingness, therefore, to offend the Gods by exposing the detected 
 person, and his determination to do nothing without consulting the oracle, 
 expressed in his next speech, which has likewise been objected to on the 
 same account, are only additional proofs of that ready attention to the 
 divine will, which he manifests in every part of this performance, and 
 which may well be further excited by the alarming examples now before 
 him of the miseries that had arisen from a contrary conduct in others. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 211 
 
 The bright and active ray of yonder sun, 
 Whose sickening beam abhorrent turns aside 
 From that loath'd object, whom the public curse 
 Hath doom'd to infamy — forbade t' approach 
 Our shrines, our altars, and the lustral dew 
 Thrown from the pontiff's consecrating hand — 
 
 quickly lead him to the inmost gloom 
 Of yonder palace, for, in crimes like his, 
 There dwells a horror of such dreadful kind, 
 As should be sacred from the vulgar eye, 
 And only view'd by those in blood allied. 
 
 Oed. Ah ! Creon, dearest, yet much injur'd friend, 
 In me thou seest a melancholy proof 
 How vain are wisdom's most exalted boasts ! 
 How slippery are the heights of human pride ! 
 Thee late I treated with reproach and scorn ; 
 'Tis now thy turn to triumph — but thy soul, 
 Too great and gen'rous, scorns th' unmanly thought — 
 
 1 crave but one poor boon — O grant me this, 
 And thou'rt indeed my friend — 
 
 Cre. Name it ; 'tis granted — 
 Oed. This instant banish me from thee and Thebes, 
 
 To some drear spot, where I may waste my last 
 
 Sad days in solitude, and wail my crimes. 
 Cre. Thy exile is decreed : but we must first 
 
 Consult the Gods — 
 
212 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Oed. The Gods have been consulted ; 
 The firm, irrevocable voice of fate 
 Hath spoken, that the parricide shall die — 
 
 Ore. Yet it beseems us further to enquire 
 Their will concerning thee. 
 
 Oed. Concerning me ! 
 Thus foul, thus impious, wouldst thou weary heaven 
 With more enquiries ? 
 
 Ore. Warn'd by thy disasters, 
 We learn to venerate the powers divine ! 
 
 Oed. But one word more, and I have done for ever- 
 By every bond of friendship I conjure thee, 
 By all the ties of nature, to decree 
 Sepulchral honours worthy of her birth, 
 And each due rite the illustrious dead demand, 
 To thy dear sister, and my hapless wife — 
 For me, the vilest of the sons of Thebes, 
 Heed thou no farther — once more let me go, 
 A wand'ring exile from my father's roofs ; 
 From Thebes— as erst from Corinth — and explore 
 That sacred spot on dark Cithaeron's brow, 
 By those who gave me being doom'd my grave 
 Early as life began — for ah ! I feel, 
 Within this breast I feel the dire presage, 
 That fate denies me by the common lot 
 Of man to fall— snatch'd from the jaws of death, 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 213 
 
 To perish by the signal wrath of Jove, 
 
 Long treasur'd for the moment — what that stroke 
 
 I know not ; but despair hath armd my soul — 
 
 Dearest of men, my children I commend 
 
 To thy protecting arm ; my sons are firm 
 
 In health and manhood ; they will least require 
 
 Thy friendly aid : but oh ! my hapless daughters — * 
 
 Dear blooming orphans, with such anxious care 
 
 Cherish'd beneath these roofs in royal state ; 
 
 Fed by my hand, and by my watchful eye 
 
 Still guarded — how will those poor babes support 
 
 At once a father's and a mother's loss ? 
 
 O take them, prince — O shield them with thy power, 
 
 And foster with thy love ! Might they be summon'd ? 
 
 Might they receive a father's last embrace ? 
 
 To touch them would suspend my pains : but oh ! 
 
 To glue my clasping arms around their necks, 
 
 Would give me sight, and nerve my limbs anew. 
 
 What have I said of rapture — 'tis denied 
 
 To this care-broken heart ! To weep their fate, 
 
 And o'er them hang in fix'd and silent woe, 
 
 Is all now left me — but methinks I hear 
 
 Sounds sweet and plaintive, like the tender moans 
 
 Of those dear children — yes , they are my children ! — 
 
 Creon hath gratified my ardent wish ; 
 
 What can I say— oh torture — 
 
214 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Cre. To thy command 
 Obedient, I have brought thy children hither. 
 
 Oed. Eternal blessings on thee for this kindness ! 
 Come near, my daughters ; shudder not to touch 
 Your father, and your — brother : — view the hands, 
 Yet red with gore, whose fury hath consign' d me 
 To everlasting darkness, and forbade 
 The sight of you and heav'n — a king myself, 
 And yet a regicide — by heav'n and man 
 Alike abhorr'd : approach, and weep my fate, 
 But do not curse me with the name of parent — 
 Yes, to behold your angel smiles, that once 
 Gave vigour to my pulse, is mine no more, 
 Yet I can weep your fate ; and I will weep 
 In tears of blood warm gushing from the heart — 
 With patient fortitude I might have borne 
 My own disasters, but the sense of yours 
 Hath quite unmann'd me. Whither will ye go 
 For respite from your toils, or how assuage 
 The madness of despair ? From public haunts, 
 And all the gay delights of social life, 
 Driv'n with disgrace, your virgin bloom to waste 
 In barren solitude, and execrate 
 The name of father — Ye must never taste 
 The sweets of Hymen, nor with eager eyes 
 Gaze on a smiling progeny ; for who, 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNIES 
 
 215 
 
 Who will receive pollution to his arms, 
 
 Nor shudder at the black, the baleful train 
 
 Of ills impending o'er my hapless race ? — 
 
 What horror in the tale ! — An impious son 
 
 Hath slain his father, and, with guilty fires 
 
 Flaming, defil'd his mother's sacred bed. — 
 
 Pursued with jealous hatred by your sex, 
 
 And exil'd by the voice of all mankind, 
 
 Thus shall ye pass your wretched days, till death, 
 
 Thrice welcome death, shall close the dreadful scene ! 
 
 Thou, Creon, thou art left their only friend ; 
 
 Ah ! suffer not my poor, forsaken babes, 
 
 Like vagabonds, to wander o'er the earth 
 
 The sport of infamy — Dear, generous youth, 
 
 Extend thy hands, as pledges of thy faith 
 
 And firm support — Much, O my daughters, much 
 
 This bursting heart would utter more, but grief 
 
 Unspeakable, and black despair forbid — 
 
 One last, one fervent prayer, midst all its pangs, 
 
 That heart devoutly pours — that you may live 
 
 As happy, as resign'd, as your hard fate, 
 
 In the dark catalogue of human woes 
 
 Unequall'd, may permit, where Heav'n's high will 
 
 Shall fix your future doom — and may that Heav ? n 
 
 In rich abundance on my children's heads 
 
 Shower down those blessings it denies your sire — 
 
 Q 
 
216 OEDIPTTS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Cre. Enough : thy grief transports thee ; O ! retire 
 Within the palace. 
 
 Oed. I obey thee, prince ; 
 Yet shudder to approach that fatal scene 
 Of all my guilt. 
 
 Cre. 'Tis right,* thou should'st retire : 
 Time and events require it. 
 
 Oed. Know'st thou not 
 By what dire curses I am bound — 
 
 Cre. Declare them. 
 Oed. To leave these roofs, and thou to drive me hence. 
 O Prince, with swiftness execute the task. 
 
 Cre. The Gods alone can grant thee thy desire 
 Oed. I am most hateful to those Gods. 
 
 Cre. Fear not ; 
 They will befriend thee here. 
 
 Oed. Ah might I hope ! 
 Cre. Thou may'st ; I speak with confidence. 
 
 Oed. Then lead, 
 Whither thou wilt. 
 
 Cre. But let thy children stay. — 
 Oed. Wilt thou bereave me of my children too ! 
 Cre, Submit — Warn'd by thy sufferings, Oh! beware 
 Of that perverseness thou hast rued so dearly. 
 
 * In the original, " All things are right on right occasions : " The text 
 seems designedly equivocal and obscure. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 21^ 
 
 Cho. Inhabitants of Thebes, behold your prince, 
 The mighty Oedipus, whose soaring thought 
 Pierc'd the dark riddle of the monster Sphynx ; 
 Whose fame * and pow'r, beyond example great, 
 What son of Cadmus but with envy viewed ? — 
 That Prince behold, by sad reverse of fate 
 Fall'n from his throne of grandeur to the depth 
 Of abject misery— Mortal, mark his fate ; 
 Nor him, whom fortune's changeful smile adorns 
 With momentary triumphs, call thou blest, 
 Till death decide, and stamp the name of " happy. " 
 
 * '0<tti$ ou $jAa>. 
 
 As the text now stands, this is a very difficult passage, and the transla- 
 tions are ambiguous and unsatisfactory, A learned friend informed me of 
 a proposed emendation by a late Editor of Euripides, Dr. Musgrave : 
 
 'Ov. ri$ ou 2$ Aw 7roXflctiV lyg lux^iS S7TS^XS7rgV. 
 
 The passage becomes thus interrogative, and the sense is, i( whom, who 
 was there of the citizens, but beheld with envy, in consequence of his good 
 fortune ? " This sense I have adopted, as the most easy to be translated, 
 and best expressive of the meaning of Sophocles. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 London : Printed by W. Bulnuer and Co 
 Cleveland-row, St. JaraesY 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 Lately published, and to be bad of White, Cochrane, and Co. 
 
 Fleet-street. 
 
 1. The Indian Sceptic confuted, and Brahmin Frauds 
 exposed ; proving the diffusion of the Christian Doctrines, in 
 India, during the second Century, and demonstrating that the Life 
 and pretended Miracles of the Indian deity Crishna, as given in 
 the Bhagavat, are a gross plagiarism from the Gospels, genuine * 
 or spurious. 
 
 2. The Fall of the Mogul, or Nadir Shah at Delhi ; an 
 
 Imperial Tragedy. 
 
 3. Richmond Hill, a Descriptive Poem ; with illustrative 
 Engravings ; dedicated, by permission, to Lord Viscount Sidmouth. 
 
 4. A few remaining sets of the Indian History and Antiquities. 
 

 
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