But, chiefly, to take thence from her dead finger
A precious ring; a ring that I must use

In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone :-
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
In what I further shall intend to do,
By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,

And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs :
The time and my intents are savage-wild;
More fierce, and more inexorable far,

Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea.

B. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

R. So shalt thou show me friendship.—Take thou that:

Live, and be prosperous; and farewell, good fellow.

457. Ferale tardis imminet saxum vadis,

Stupent ubi undæ, segne torpescit fretum :
Hunc servat amnem cultu et aspectu horridus,
Pavidosque Manes squalidus gestat senex.
Impexa pendet barba; deformem sinum
Nodus coercet; concavæ lucent genæ :
Regit ipse conto portitor longo ratem.
Hic, onere vacuam litori puppim applicans,
Repetebat umbras: poscit Alcides viam :
Cedente turba, dirus exclamat Charon,
Quo pergis audax? siste properantem gradum.
Non passus ullas natus Alcmena moras,
Ipso coactum navitam conto domat,

Scanditque puppem. Cymba, populorum capax,
Succubuit uni: sedit, et gravior ratis

Utrimque Lethen latere titubanti bibit.

Tunc victa trepidant monstra, Centauri truces,
Lapithæque multo in bella succensi mero.

Stygiæ paludis ultimos quærens sinus,
Fecunda mergit capita Lerneus labos.

458.

Is it thou,

Euryalus, whom I see? Oh cruel, thus
To leave thy mother, old and desolate,
Thou, my last comfort, to such peril sent,
Nor suffer'd to bid me a last farewell!
Ah! on a soil unknown a prey thou liest
To Latin dogs and fowls: no funeral rite
Thy mother hath perform'd, nor clos'd thine eyes,
Nor bath'd thy wounds, nor wrapt them in the robe
Which toiling day and night I wove for thee,
And with the task my wretchedness beguil❜d.
Where shall I follow thee? What land contains
Thy limbs and mangled corpse? Can this be all
That of my child returns? Is't this by sea
And land I follow'd? O Rutulians,

If ye have hearts, on me your javelins hurl;
Pierce me, destroy me first! Or, Jupiter,
Since by no other means my wretched life
I may cut off, have pity; with thy bolt
This hateful head thrust down to Tartarus !
459. O reason not the need: our basest beggars
Are in the poorest thing superfluous:

Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life is cheap as beast's: thou art a lady;
If only to be warm were gorgeous,

Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
Which scarcely keeps thee warm.. -But for true

You heavens, give me that patience that I need.
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both.
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger:
O, let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks. No, you unnatural hags,

I will have such revenges on you both,

That all the world shall-I will do such things
What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think, I'll weep;
No, I'll not weep.

460. C. Ces dédains rigoureux dureront-ils toujours?
D. Non; ils ne dureront qu'autant que vos amours.
C. C'est préscrire à mes feux des lois bien inhu-
maines !

D. Faites finir vos feux, je finirai leurs peines.
C. Le moyen de forcer mon inclination?

D. Le moyen de souffrir votre obstination?

C. Qui ne s'obstineroit en vous voyant si belle ?
D. Qui pourroit vous aimer vous voyant si rebelle?
C. Est-ce rebellion que d'avoir trop de feu?
D. C'est avoir trop d'amour, et m'obéir trop peu.
C. La puissance sur moi que je vous ai donnée
D. D'aucune exception ne doit être bornée.
C. Essayez autrement ce pouvoir souverain.
D. Cet essai me fait voir que je commande en vain.
C. C'est un injuste essai qui feroit ma ruine.

D. Ce n'est plus obéir depuis qu'on examine.

...

C. Mais l'amour vous défend un tel commandement.
D. Et moi je me défends un plus doux traitement.
C. Avec ce beau visage avoir le cœur de roche !

D. Si le mien s'endurcit, ce n'est qu'à votre ap-
proche.

461. O. Do thou for Pylades and for thyself

Implore the Gods; blend not my name with yours: Thou wilt not save the wretch whom thou would'st join,

And yet participate his curse and woe.

I. My destiny is firmly bound to thine.

0. Nay, but not so: alone and unattended
Let me descend to Hades;

though thou should'st

Thou could'st not shroud him from his wakeful foes.
And e'en thy holy presence, heavenly maid,
Doth only drive aside, but scares them not.
With brazen impious feet they dare not tread
Within the precincts of this sacred grove;
Yet in the distance, ever and anon,

I hear their horrid laughter, like the howl
Of famish'd wolves beneath the tree wherein
The traveller hides. Without encamp'd they lie;
And, should I quit this consecrated grove,
Shaking their serpent locks, they would arise,
And raising clouds of dust on every side,
Ceaseless pursue their miserable prey.
462. Where art thou, my beloved son,
Where art thou, worse to me than dead!
O find me, prosperous or undone !
Or, if the grave be now thy bed,
Why am I ignorant of the same,
That I may rest; and neither blame
Nor sorrow may attend thy name?
Seven years, alas! to have receiv'd
No tidings of an only child,

To have despair'd and have believ'd,
And be for evermore beguil'd
Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss!
I catch at them, and then I miss.
Was ever darkness like to this?
He was among the prime in worth,
An object beauteous to behold,

Well born, well bred. I sent him forth
Ingenuous, innocent, and bold:

If things ensu'd that wanted grace,
As hath been said, they were not base;
And never blush was on my face.

463. This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,

Well lov'd of me, deserving to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay

Meet adoration to my household gods

When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port: the vessel puffs her sail.
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd and wrought and thought

with me,

That ever with a frolic welcome took

;

The thunder and the sunshine, and oppos'd
Free hearts, free foreheads-you and I are old.
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with gods.
464. Shall we no longer serve a native prince?
Shall he, who lives for ever, pass away,

The king, the guardian of the sacred plough;
Who fills the earth with plenty, who protects
Our flocks and herds, who sets the prisoner free,
Who gathers all his cities round his throne,
Who aids the helpless, and appals the base,
Who envies no one, for he reigns supreme,
Who is a mortal, yet an angel too,

Dispensing blessings through the hostile earth?
Is not the throne which glitters o'er with gold,
The shelter likewise of the oppress'd and poor?
Power and compassion stand together there:
The guilty tremble, but the just draw near,
And with the guardian lion fearless sport.