Harmony.

While to his Lyre he tunes his vocal Strains,
The very bloodless Ghosts Attention keep,
And silent, seem compassionate to weep:
Ev'n Tantalus, the Flood, unthirsty, views,
Nor flies the Stream, nor he the Stream pursues:
Ixion's wond'ring Wheel its Whirl suspends,
And the voracious Vultur, charm'd, attends:
No more the Belides their Toil bemoan,
And Sisiphus sits list'ning on his Stone.
Then first, 'tis said, by Harmony subdu'd,
The Furies felt their Cheeks with Tears bedew'd.--

A Hill there was, and on that Hill a Mead,
With Verdure thick, but destitute of Shade:
Where, now, the Muse's Son no sooner sings,
No sooner strikes his sweet resounding Strings,
But distant Groves the flying Sounds receive,
And list'ning Trees their rooted Stations leave:
Themselves transplanting, all around they grow,
And various Shades their various Kinds bestow.
Here, tall Chaônian Oaks their Branches spread,
While weeping Poplars there erect their Head:
The tow'ring Esculus here shoots his Leaves,
That Spot the Lime--tree, this the Beach receives:
Here, brittle Hazels, Lawrels here advance,
And there tough Ash, to form the Hero's Lance:
Here silver Firs, with knotless Trunks ascend,
There, scarlet Oaks beneath their Acorns bend.
That Turf admits the hospitable Plane,
On this the Maple grows with clouded Grain.
Here watry Willows are with Lotus seen,
There Tamarisk, and Box for ever green.
With twofold Hue here Myrtles grace the Ground,
And Laurestines with purple Berries crown'd.
Here wanton Ivy's pliant Branches wind;
Vines yonder rise, and Elms with Vines entwin'd.
Wild Ornus now, the Pitch Tree now takes Root,
And Arbutus, adorn'd with blushing Fruit.
Then easy bending Palms, the Victor's Prize,
And Pines erect with bristly Tops, arise.--

Thus the sweet Artist in a wondrous Shade
Of verdant Trees, which Harmony had made,
Encircled sat, with his own Triumphs crown'd,
Of list'ning Birds, and savage Beasts around.
Again, the trembling Strings he dextrous tries,
Again from Discord charmful Sounds arise.--

Sooth'd by his Songs, from Erebus profound
Th' unbody'd Fantoms, and thin Spectres rose:
Unnumber'd, as the Birds which flock in Woods,
Driv'n from the Hills by Ev'ning, or a Storm.
Ev'n Death's dread Realms, the deep Recess of Hell,
In silent Wonder listen'd to his Song,
And with blew curling shakes the Furies wreath'd:
Grim Cerb'rus, yawning, his three Mouths repress'd:
And with the Wind Ixion's Orb stood still.--
Haven.

--Within a hollow Mountain's Side
Eaten by Age, there is a spacious Cave:
Whither much Sea, driv'n by the Wind, retires,
And cuts itself into a crooked Bay:
A Station apt for Sailors caught in Storms.--

Far in a deep Recess, her jutting Sides
An Isle projects, to break the rolling Tides;
And forms a Port, where, curling from the Sea,
The Waves steal back, and wind into a Bay.
On either Side, sublime in Air, arise
Two tow'ring Rocks, whose Summits brave the Skies:
Low at their Feet, the sleeping Ocean lies.
Crown'd with a gloomy Shade of waving Woods,
Their aweful Brows hang nodding o'er the Floods.
Oppos'd to these a secret Grotto stands,
The Haunt of Naids, fram'd by Nature's Hands,
Where polish'd Seats appear of living Stone,
And limpid Rills, that tinkle as they run.
No Cable binds the harrass'd Vessels here,
Nor bearded Anchor, for no Storms they fear.--

Where from the raging East the Surges flow,
The Land, indented, bends an ample Bow:
The Port conceal'd within the winding Shore,
Dash'd on the fronting Cliffs the Billows roar.
Two lofty tow'ring Rocks extended wide,
With out--stretch'd Arms embrace the murm'ring Tide.--
Heir.

--From thy growing Store
Lend thy Assistance, and relieve the Poor.
Come, do a noble Act of Charity:
A Pittance of thy Land will set him free.
Nor tell me that thy frowning Heir will say,
'Tis mine, that Wealth thou squander'st thus away:
What is't to thee, if he neglects thy Urn,
Or without Spices lets thy Body burn?
If Odours to thy Ashes he refuse,
Or buys bad Cassia, that's not fit to use?
For what hast Thou to fear beyond the Grave?--

And thou who gap'st for my Estate, draw near,
For I would whisper somewhat in thy Ear.
Hear'st thou the News, my Friend? Th' Express is come
With laurel'd Letters from the Camp to Rome:
Our Emperor salutes the Senate thus:
My Arms are on the Rhine victorious,
From mourning Altars sweep the Dust away,
Cease Fasting, and proclaim a fat thanksgiving Day.

Now to the gracious Gods for these high Matters,
Know I have vow'd two hundred Gladiators,
And mean to crown a Bowl to Coesar's Health.--
Say, would'st Thou hinder me from this Expence?
I disinherit, if Thou tak'st Offence.
Yet more, a public Largess I design,
Of Oil and Pyes to make the People dine.
Dost Thou think much of this? speak freely out:
Your poor Estate, Thou cry'st, deserves not all this Rout.
Well: on my Terms thou wilt not be my Heir?--
If Thou car'st little, less shall be my Care.
Were none of all my Father's Sisters left,
Nay, were I of my Mother's Kin bereft,
None by a Mother's or a Grandame's Side,
Yet I could soon some other Heir provide.--

What of my Fortune's left wilt Thou receive?
Now fairly take it, or as fairly leave:
But take it as it is, and ask no more.
What when Thou hast embezzled all thy Store?
Where's all thy Father left?--'Tis true, I grant,
Some I have mortgag'd to supply my Want:
The Legacies of Tadius too are flown,
All spent, and on the self--same Errand gone.
How little then to my poor Share will fall?
Little, indeed: but yet that Little's all:
Nor tell me in a dying Father's Tone,
Be careful still of the main Chance, my Son:
Put out the Principal in trusty Hands:
Live on the Use: and never dip thy Lands.
But, pray what's left for me?--What's left! my Friend:
Ask that again, and all the rest I spend.
Hell.

Is not my Fortune at my own Command?
Pour Oyl, and pour it with a plenteous Hand
Upon my Sallads, Boy: shall I be fed
With sodden Nettles, and a sing'd Sow's Head?
'Tis Holiday: provide me better Cheer:
'Tis Holiday: and shall be round the Year.
Shall I my Houshold Gods and Genius cheat,
To make him rich, who grudges me my Meat?
That he may loll at ease, and pamper'd high,
When I am laid, may feed on Giblet Pye?
And when his throbbing Lust extends the Vein,
Have wherewithal his Whores to entertain?
Shall I be starv'd to Skin and Bone, that He
A Paunch in Triumph may before him see?--

When Nature's Wants require, I will be free,
Nor care what my bold Heir will think of me:
I'll use my little Heap, tho' He be griev'd,
Because I leave no more than I receiv'd.--

What is my Wealth, if I must always spare?
He that lives poor, to leave a wealthy Heir,
Is near a--kin to mad. I'll drink, and play,
Enjoy my self, and fling my Gold away.--
Hell.
See Elysian--Fields.

Just in the Gate, and in the Jaws of Hell,
Revengeful Cares and sullen Sorrows dwell:
And pale Diseases, and repining Age:
Want, Fear, and Famine's unresisted Rage.
Here Toils, and Death, and Death's Half--Brother, Sleep,
Forms terrible to View, their Centry keep:
The anxious Pleasures of a guilty Mind,
And just against them deathful War they find,
The Furies Iron Beds, and Strife that shakes
Her hissing Tresses, and unfolds her Snakes.

Full in the midst of this infernal Road,
An Elm displays her dusky Arms abroad:
The God of Sleep there hides his heavy Head,
And empty Dreams on ev'ry Leaf are spread.

Of various Forms, unnumber'd Spectres more,
Centaurs, and double Shapes, besiege the Door.
Before the Passage horrid Hydra stands,
And fierce Briareus with his hundred Hands:
Gorgons, Geryon with his triple Frame:
And vain Chimaera vomits empty Flame.

Hence to deep Acheron they take their Way,
Whose troubled Eddies, thick with Ooze and Clay,
Are whirl'd aloft, and in Cocytus lost:

There Charon stands, who rules the dreary Coast:
A sordid God: down from his hoary Chin
A Length of Beard descends, uncomb'd, unclean:
His Eyes like hollow Furnaces on Fire:
A Girdle, foul with Grease, binds his obscene Attire.
He spreads his Canvas: with his Pole he steers
And Freights of flitting Ghosts in his thin Bottom bears.
He look'd in Years: yet in his Years were seen
A youthful Vigour, and autumnal Green.

An airy Crowd came rushing where he stood,
And fill'd the Margin of the fatal Flood:
Husbands, and Wives, Boys, and unmarry'd Maids,
And mighty Heroes more majestic Shades,
And Youths, intomb'd before their Father's Eyes;
With hollow Groans, and Shrieks, and feeble Cries.
Thick as the Leaves in Autumn strow the Woods,
Or Fowls, by Winter forc'd, forsake the Floods,
And wing their hasty Flight to happier Lands:
Such, and so thick, the shiv'ring Army stands,
And press for Passage with extended Hands.

Now these, now those, the surly Boatman bore:
The rest he drove to Distance from the Shore.
--In his Den they found
The triple Porter of the Stygian Sound,
Grim Cerberus; who soon began to rear
His crested Snakes, and arm'd his bristled Hair.
The prudent Sybil had before prepar'd
A Sop, in Honey steep'd, to charm the Guard:
Which, mix'd with pow'rful Drugs, she cast before
His greedy grinning Jaws, just op'd to roar:
With three enormous Mouths he gapes: and straight,
With hunger press'd, devours the pleasing Bait.
Long Draughts of Sleep his monstrous Limbs enslave:
He reels, and falling, fills the spacious Cave.

The Keeper charm'd, the Chief without Delay,
Pass'd on, and took th' irremeable Way.

Before the Gates the Cries of Babes new--born,
Whom Fate had from their tender Mothers torn,
Assault his Ears: then those whom Form of Laws
Condemn'd to die, when Traytors judg'd their Cause.
Nor want they Lots, nor Judges to review
The wrongful Sentence, and award a new.

Minos, the strict Inquisitor, appears:
And Lives, and Crimes, with his Assessors, hears.
Round, in his Urn, the blended Balls he rolls:
Absolves the Just, and dooms the guilty Souls.

The next in Place and Punishment are they
Who prodigally throw their Souls away.
Fools, who repining at their wretched State,
And loathing anxious Life, suborn'd their Fate.
With late Repentance, now they would retrieve
The Bodies they forsook, and wish to live;
Their Pains and Poverty desire to bear,
To view the Light of Heav'n, and breath the vital Air.
But Fate forbids: the Stygian Floods oppose:
And, with nine circling Streams, the captive Souls inclose.

Not far from thence the mournful Fields appear:
So call'd from Lovers that inhabit there.
The Souls, whom that unhappy Flame invades,
In secret solitude, and Myrtle Shades,
Make endless Moan, still pining with Desire:
The Pains of Love not e'en with Life expire.

Æneas, looking on the left, espy'd
A lofty Tow'r, and strong on ev'ry Side
With treble Walls; which Phlegethon surrounds,
Whose fiery Flood the burning Empire bounds;
And, press'd between the Rocks, the bellowing Noise resounds.
Wide is the fronting Gate, and rais'd on high,
With adamantine Columns threats the Sky:
Vain is the Force of Man, and Heav'n's as vain,
To crush the Pillars which this Pile sustain.
Sublime, on these, a Tow'r of Steel is rear'd,
And dire Tisiphone there keeps the Guard,
Girt in her sanguine Robe, by Night and Day
Observant of the Souls that pass the downward Way.
From hence are heard the Groans of Ghosts, the Pains
Of sounding Lashes, and of dragging Chains.
These are the Realms of unrelenting Fate,
And aweful Rhadamanthus rules the State.
He hears and judges each committed Crime,
Enquires into the Manner, Place, and Time:
The conscious Wretch must all his Acts reveal,
Loth to confess, unable to conceal,
From the first Moment of his vital Breath,
To his last Hour of unrepenting Death.

Straight, o'er the guilty Ghost, the Fury shakes
The sounding Whip, and brandishes her Snakes:
And, the pale Sinner, with her Sisters takes.
Then of itself, unfolds th' eternal Door:
With dreadful Sounds the brazen Hinges roar.
You see before the Gate, what stalking Ghost
Commands the Guard, what Sentries keep the Post.
More formidable Hydra stands within,
Whose fifty gaping Mouths, horrific, grin.
Here Tartarus, low to the Center lies,
And twice as deep as Earth is distant from the Skies.

The Rivals of the Gods, the Titan Race,
Here, struck with Light'ning, roll within th' unfathom'd Space:
Here lie th' Alaean Twins, (I saw them both,)
Enormous Bodies of gigantic Growth;
Who dar'd in Fight the Thunderer to defy,
Affect his Heav'n, and force him from the Sky
Salmoneus, suff'ring cruel Pains, I found,
For emulating Jove, the rattling Sound
Of mimic Thunder, and the glitt'ring Blaze
Of pointed Lightning, and it's forky Rays.
Thro' Elis and the Grecian Towns he flew,
Th' audacious Wretch four fiery Coursers drew:
He wav'd a Torch aloft, and, madly vain,
Sought Godlike Worship from a servile Train.
Ambitious Fool! with horny Hoofs to pass
O'er hollow Arches of resounding Brass,
To rival Thunder in it's rapid Course,
And imitate inimitable Force.
But he, Heav'n's King, amidst thick Clouds on high,
Bar'd his red Arm, and lanching from the Sky
His writhen Bolt, not shaking empty Smoke,
Down to the deep Abyss the flaming Felon struck.
There Tityus one might see, who took his Birth
From Heav'n, his nursing from the foodful Earth.
Here, his gigantic Limbs, with large embrace,
Stretch o'er nine Acres of infernal Space.
A rav'nous Vulture in his open'd Side,
Her crooked Beak, and cruel Talons try'd:
Still for the growing Liver dig'd his Breast,
The growing Liver still supply'd the Feast:
Still are his Entrails fruitful to their Pains,
Th' immortal Hunger lasts, th' immortal Food remains.

Ixion and Pirithous need I name?--
High o'er their Heads a mould'ring Rock is plac'd,
That promises a Fall, and shakes at ev'ry Blast.
They lie below, on golden Beds display'd,
And genial Feasts, with regal Pomp are made.
The Queen of Furies by their Side is set,
And snatches from their Mouths th' untasted Meat:
Which, if they touch, her hissing Snakes she rears,
Tossing her Torch, and thund'ring in their Ears.

Then they, who Brother's juster Claim disown,
Expel their Parents, and usurp the Throne,
Defraud their Clients, and to Lucre sold,
Sit brooding on unprofitable Gold:
Who dare not give, and ev'n refuse to lend
To their poor Kindred, or a wanting Friend.
Vast is the Throng of these: nor less the Train
Of lustful Youths, for foul Adult'ry slain.
Hosts of Deserters, who their Honour sold,
And basely broke their Faith for Bribes of Gold.

All these within the Dungeon's Depth remain,
Despairing Pardon, and expecting Pain.
Some roll a weighty Stone, some laid along
And bound with burning Wires, on Spokes of Wheels are hung.

To Tyrants others have their Country sold,
Imposing foreign Lords, for foreign Gold:
Some have old Laws repeal'd, new Statutes made:
Not as the People pleas'd, but as they paid.
With Incest some their Daughters Beds prophan'd.
All dar'd the worst of Ills, and what they dar'd attain'd.

Had I an hundred Mouths, an hundred Tongues,
And Throats of Brass, inspir'd with Iron Lungs,
I could not half those horrid Crimes repeat,
Nor half the dreadful Punishments they meet.--

The Gates of Hell are open Night and Day;
Smooth the Descent, and easy is the Way:
But to return and view the chearful Skies,
In this the Task, the mighty Labour lies.
To few great Jupiter imparts this Grace;
And those of shining Worth, and heav'nly Race.

Betwixt those Regions and our upper Light,
Deep Forests, and impenetrable Night,
Possess the middle Space: th' infernal Bounds,
Cocytus, with it's sable Waves surrounds.--

Wide, in the Void, extends a standing Lake,
Whose miry Banks the Waters of fierce Phlegethon
Far--over--flowing burn: with dreadful Roar,
Between the glowing Rocks, it's fiery Stream
Winds out a Way, Flames bursting out by Fits
Thro' Clouds of Smoke. Raging on t'other Side
Cocytus rapid Stream, a Stream of Gore!
In whirling Eddies, frothing foams away.
There too, by which the Gods and Jove himself
Vouchsafes to swear, the Styx it's horrid Tide
Smoaking with Pitch, and Mud, and Sulphur, rolls.
Sad Acheron's most melancholy Stream,
Putrid Corruption and rank Poison mixt,
Ferments, and from the Bottom, with great Noise,
Works up the Icy Sand, whilst to the Lake
It sluggishly descends. This Filthiness
Three--headed Cerberus delights to drink:
Here quaffs Tisiphone, and dire Megaera
Here drinks, and thirsts, and drinks, and thirsts again,
Nor can the largest Draughts her Rage allay.--

A Band of dreadful Monsters keep around
Continual Watch, and ev'ry Passage guard:
Wild Lamentation here with horrid Din,
Mixt Shrieks and Groans, the Ghosts affrighted scares:
Leanness Companion haggard of Disease;
Grief fed with Tears; and Paleness void of Blood;
Treasons, and Cares, and querulous old Age;
Malice, with both Her Hands grasp'd round her Neck,
Throttling herself; and Wickedness deform'd;
And Want to Evil prone; and Error blind,
Stumbling along; and Discord, Earth and Heav'n
Delighting to embroil.--Before Hell Gates,
Tremendous Guard! his hundred Arms out--stretch'd,
Briareus stands, and Sphynx, her Virgin Chaps
Besmear'd with Gore, and Scylla, Monster foul!
And the fierce Centaurs, and the Giant's Ghosts.--

When Cerberus gets loose, and scours away
Thro' Hell's dark Regions, rattling at his Heels
A thousand broken Chains, and roars along,
His Viper's Tail lashing his working Sides:
Not ev'n Alecto, nor the grim Megaera,
All Fury as she is, dares the fell Monster face.--

--High seated on his Throne,
Th' infernal Monarch tries the Ghosts of Kings.
Before his dread Tribunal, bound they stand,
Repentant, now too late, of all their Crimes.
The Furies stalk around, with Punishments
Of every Kind and Form.--Oh! how they wish
They ne'er had known the Pride of regal Sway!
The Ghosts of such as have unjustly suffer'd
Upbraid their cruel Reign, and what alive
They durst not utter, freely now complain of.
Here, one, in Chains, is fasten'd to a Rock:
Another up a steepy Mountain heaves
A heavy Stone: a third the fierce Megaera
Lashes, incessant, with her Viper--Scourge.
Such Punishments must cruel Tyrants feel.--

But impious Souls shall lie in Night profound,
Where muddy Waters flow with solemn Sound:
Snake--hair'd Tisiphone patroles about,
And lashes, here and there, the impious Rout.
There Hydra horrid at the Portal waits,
And barking Cerb'rus guards the brazen Gates:
There Ixion's whirl'd around th' incessant Wheel,
For tempting Juno, and intending Ill:
There Tityus lies over nine Acres spread,
While his black Entrails hungry Vultures feed:
There Tantalus remains, for ever dry,
His eager Lips surrounding Waters fly:
There Danaus' Daughter, impious to profane
Great Venus' Rites, are doom'd a fruitless Pain,
To fill with Lethe's Streams a Tun in vain.—