Wou'd rend from us. At this, inflam'd with spite,
From her they fnatch the gift, from him the giver's right.
But foon th' impatient prince his fauchion drew,
And cry'd, Ye robbers of another's due,
Now learn the diff'rence, at your proper coft,
Betwixt true valour, and an empty boast.
At this advanc'd, and fudden as the word,
In proud Plexippus' bofom plung'd the fword:
Toxeus amaz'd, and with amazement flow,
Or to revenge, or ward the coming blow,
Stood doubting; and, while doubting thus he ftood,
Receiv'd the steel bath'd in his brother's blood.

Pleas'd with the first, unknown the second news,
Althea to the temples pays their dues

}

For her fon's conqueft; when at length appear
Her grifly brethren ftretch'd upon the bier :
Pale, at the fudden fight, fhe chang'd her cheer,
And with her cheer her robes; but hearing tell
The cause, the manner, and by whom they fell,
"Twas grief no more, or grief and rage were one
Within her foul; at laft 'twas rage alone;
Which burning upwards in fucceffion dries
The tears that flood confid'ring in her eyes.
There lay a log unlighted on the earth:
When he was lab'ring in the throes of birth,
For th' unborn chief the fatal fifters came,
And rais'd it up, and tofs'd it on the flame:
Then on the rock a scanty measure place
Of vital flax, and turn'd the wheel apace;
And turning fung, to this red brand and thee,
O new-born babe, we give an equal destiny:
So vanish'd out of view. The frighted dame
Sprung hafty from her bed, and quench'd the flame:
The log in fecret lock'd, fhe kept with care,
And that, while thus preferv'd, preferv'd her heir.

Y 2

This

This brand fhe now produc'd; and first she ftrows
The hearth with heaps of chips, and after blows;
Thrice heav'd her hand, and heav'd, she thrice reprefs'd:
The fifter and the mother long conteft,

Two doubtful titles in one tender breast;
And now her eyes and cheeks with fury glow,
Now pale her cheeks, her eyes with pity flow;
Now low'ring looks prefage approaching ftorms,
And now prevailing love her face reforms:

Refolv'd, the doubts again; the tears, the dry'd
With blushing rage, are by new tears supply'd;
And as a fhip, which winds and waves affail,
Now with the current drives, now with the gale,
Both oppofite, and neither long prevail.
She feels a double force, by turns obeys
Th' imperious tempeft, and th' impetuous feas:
So fares Althæa's mind, first she relents
With pity, of that pity then repents:
Sifter and mother long the fcales divide,
But the beam nodded on the fifter's fide.
Sometimes the foftly figh'd, then roar'd aloud;
But fighs were ftifled in the cries of blood.`

The pious impious wretch at length decreed,
To please her brother's ghofts, her fon fhould bleed;
And when the funeral flames began to rife,
Receive the faid, a fifter's facrifice:

A mother's bowels burn; high in her hand,
Thus while the spoke, she held the fatal brand;
Then thrice before the kindled pile fhe bow'd,
And the three Furies thrice invok'd aloud:
Come, come, revenging fifters, come and view
A fifter paying her dead brother's due:
A crime I punish, and a crime commit;

But blood for blood, and death for death is fit:
Great crimes must be with greater crimes repaid,
And fecond funerals on the former laid,

Let

Let the whole houfhold in one ruin fall,
And may Diana's curfe o'ertake us all.
Shall fate to happy Oeneus ftill allow
One fon, while Theftius ftands depriv'd of two?
Better three loft, than one unpunish'd go.
Take then, dear ghofts, (while yet admitted new
In hell you wait my duty) take your due:
A coftly off'ring on your tomb is laid,
When with my blood the price of yours is paid,
Ah! whither am I hurry'd? Ah! forgive,
Ye fhades, and let your fifter's iffue live:
A mother cannot give him death; tho' he
Deferves it, he deferves it not from me.

Then fhall th' unpunish'd wretch insult the slain, Triumphant live, not only live, but reign? While you thin fhades, the sport of winds, are toft, O'er dreary plains, or tread the burning coaft. I cannot, cannot bear; 'tis paft, 'tis done; Perish this impious, this detefted fon;

Perih his fire, and perifh I withal;

And let the houfe's heir, and the hop'd kingdom fall.
Where is the mother fled, her pious love,

And where the pains which with ten months I ftrove!
Ah! hadft thou dy'd my fon, in infant years,
Thy little herfe hadst been bedew'd with tears.
Thou liv'ft by me; to me thy breath refign;
Mine is the merit, the demerit thine.
Thy life by double title I require;

Once giv'n at birth, and once preferv'd from fire:
One murder pay, or add one murder more,
And me to them' who fell by thee restore.

I would, but cannot: my fon's image ftands
Before my fight; and now their angry hands
My brothers hold, and vengeance these exact,
This pleads compaffion, and repents the fact.

He pleads in vain, and I pronounce his doom:
My brothers, tho' unjustly, shall o'ercome.

But having pay'd their injur'd ghosts their due,
My fon requires my death, and mine fhail his purfu:
At this for the last time fhe lifts her hand,
Averts her eyes, and half unwilling drops the brand.
The brand, amid the flaming fuel thrown,
Or drew, or feem'd to draw a dying groan;
The fires themselves but faintly lick'd their prey,
Then loath'd their impious food, and would have fhrunk
away.

Juft then the hero caft a doleful cry,

And in those abfent flames began to fry :
The blind contagion rag'd within his veins;
But he with manly patience bore his pains:
He fear'd not fate, but only griev'd to die
Without an honeft wound, and by a death so dry.
Happy Ancæus, thrice aloud he cry'd,

With what becoming fate in arms he dy'd!
Then call'd his brothers, fifters, fire, around,
And her to whom his nuptial vows were bound;
Perhaps his mother; a long figh he drew,
And his voice failing, took his laft adieu:
For as the flames augment, and as they stay
At their full height, then languifh to decay,
They rife, and fink by fits; at laft they foar
In one bright blaze, and then defcend no more:
Juft fo his inward heats, at height, impair,

Till the laft burning breath fhoots out the foul in air.
Now lofty Calydon in ruins lies;

All ages, all degrees unfluice their eyes;

And heav'n and earth refound with murmurs, groans,

and cries.

Matrons and maidens beat their breafts, and tear

Their habits, and root up their fcatter'd hair.

The

The wretched father, father now no more,
With forrow funk, lies proftrate on the floor,
Deforms his hoary locks with duft obscene,

And curfes age, and loaths a life prolong'd with pain.
By fteel her ftubborn foul his mother freed,
And punish'd on herfelf her impious deed.
Had I an hundred tongues, a wit fo large
As could their hundred offices difcharge;
Had Phoebus all his Helicon bestow'd,
In all the streams infpiring all the God;

Thofe tongues, that wit, thofe ftreams, that God in vain
Wou'd offer to defcribe his fifters' pain:

They beat their breafts with many a bruifing blow,
Till the turn livid, and corrupt the fnow.
The corps they cherish, while the corps remains,
And everchie and rub with fruitless pains;
And when to fun'ral flames 'tis borne away,
They kifs the bed on which the body lay :
And when thofe fun'ral flames no longer burn,
(The duft compos'd within a pious urn)
Ev'n in that urn their brother they confefs,
And hug it in their arms, and to their bofoms prefs.
His tomb is rais'd; then, ftretch'd along the ground.
Thofe living monuments his tomb furround:
Ev'n to his name, infcrib'd, their tears they pay,
Till tears and kiffes wear his name away.

But Cynthia now had all her fury spent,
Not with lefs ruin, than a race, content:
Excepting Gorge, perish'd all the feed,
And her whom heav'n for Hercules decreed.
Satiate at laft, no longer the purfu'd

The weeping fifters; but with wings endu'd,
And horny beaks, and sent to flit in air;

Who yearly round the tomb in feather'd flocks repair.