All other parts of pious duty done,
You owe your Ormond nothing but a son;
To fill in future times his father's place,
And wear the garter of his mother's race.
N days of old, there liv'd, of mighty fame,
A valiant prince, and Thefeus was his name:
A chief, who more in feats of arms excell'd,
The rifing nor the setting fun beheld.
Of Athens he was lord; much land he won,
And added foreign countries to his crown.
In Scythia with the warrior queen he ftrove,
Whom firit by force he conquer'd, then by love;
He brought in triumph back the beauteous dame,
With whom her filer, fair Emilia, came.
With honour to his home let Thefeus ride,
With love to friend, and fortune for his guide,
And his victorious army at his fide.
I pafs their warlike pomp, their proud array,
Their fhouts, their fongs, their welcome on the way:
But, were it not too long, I would recite
The feats of Amazors, the fatal fight
Betwixt the hardy queen, and heroe knight;
The town befiegd, and how much blood it coft
The female army, and th' Athenian hoft;
The fpoufals of Hippolita the queen ;
What tilts and turncys at the feaft were seen ;
The form at their return, the ladies fear :
But thefe, and other things, I muft forbear.
The field is fpacious I defign to fow,
With oxen far unfit to draw the plow :
The remnant of my tale is of a length
To tire your patience, and to waste my ftrength; ̈
And trivial accidents fhall be forborn,
That others may have time to take their turn;
As was at first enjoin'd us by mine hoft:
That he whose tale is beft, and pleases moft,
Should win his fupper at our common coft.
And therefore where I left, I will pursue
This ancient flory, whether false or true,
In hope it may be mended with a new.
The prince I mention'd, full of high renown,
In this array drew near th' Athenian town
When in his pomp and utmost of his pride,
Marching he chanc'd to caft his eye afide,
And faw a choir of mourning dames, who lay
By two and two across the common way:
At his approach they rais'd a rueful cry,
And beat their breasts, and held their hands on high,
Creeping and crying, till they feiz'd at laft
His courfer's bridle, and his feet embrac❜d.
Tell me, faid Thefeus, what and whence you are, And why this funeral pageant you prepare? Is this the welcome of my worthy deeds, To meet my triumph in ill-omen'd weeds? Or envy you my praise, and would destroy With grief my pleasures, and pollute my joy? Or are you injur'd, and demand relief? Name your request, and I will eafe your grief.
The most in years of all the mourning train
Began; (but fwooned firft away for pain)
Then scarce recover'd spoke: nor envy we
Thy great renown, nor grudge thy victory;
'Tis thine, O king, th' afflicted to redress,
And fame has fill'd the world with thy fuccefs:
We wretched women fue for that alone,
Which of thy goodness is refus'd to none;
Let fall fome drops of pity on our grief,
If what we beg be juft, and we deferve relief:
For none of us, who now thy grace implore,
But held the rank of fovereign queen before;
Till thanks to giddy chance, which never bears,
That mortal blifs fhould laft for length of years,
She caft us headlong from our high estate,
And here in hope of thy return we wait :
And long have waited in the temple nigh,
Built to the gracious goddefs Clemency.
But rev'rence thou the pow'r whofe name it bears,
Relieve th' oppress'd, and wipe the widow's tears.
I, wretched I, have other fortune feen,
The wife of Capaneus, and once a queen :
At Thebes he fell; curft be the fatal day!
And all the reft thou feeß in this array,
To make their moan, their lords in battle loft
Before that town befieg'd by our confed'rate hoft:
But Creon, old and impious, who commands
The Theban city, and ufurps the lands,
Denies the rites of fun'ral fires to those
Whose breathless bodies yet be calls his foes.
Unburn'd, unbury'd, on a heap they lie;
Such is their fate, and fuch his tyranny;
No friend has leave to bear away the dead,
But with their lifelefs limbs his hounds are fed :
At this the fhriek'd aloud; the mournful train
Echo'd her grief, and grov'ling on the plain,
With groans, and hands upheld, to move his mind,
Befought his pity to their helpless kind!
The prince was touch'd, his tears began to flow,
And, as his tender heart would break in two,
He figh'd; and could not but their fate deplore,
So wretched now, fo fortunate before.
Then lightly from his lofty fteed he flew,
And raifing one by one the fuppliant crew,
To comfort each, full folemnly he swore,
That by the faith which knights to knighthood bore,
And what e'er elfe to chivalry belongs,
He would not ceafe, till he reveng'd their wrongs:
That Greece fhould fee perform'd what he declar'd;
And cruel Creon find his juft reward.
He faid no more, but, fhunning all delay,
Rode on; nor enter'd Athens on his way:
But left his fifter and his queen behind,
And wav'd his royal banner in the wind:
Where in an argent field the god of war
Was drawn triumphant on his iron car;
Red was his fword, and shield, and whole attire,
And all the godhead feem'd to glow with fire;
Ev'n the ground glitter'd where the ftandard flew,
And the green grafs was dy'd to fanguine hue.
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