EPODICA.
STROPHE I.
Chorus. Soft Sleep, thou Stranger to all Pain,
Breathe on him with thy softest Gale;
Thou Prince of a most happy Reign,
Upon his Eye-Lids gently steal.
Keep off the bright extended Rays of Light,
And gather all the gloomy Shades of Night.
Come hither thou Physician sure,
Thou the universal Cure.
ANTISTROPHE.
Resolve, my Son, what you must do,
Why are you wav’ring in Suspense?
Our first Designs we shou’d pursue,
At once surprize and bear him hence.
The wisest Counsels still we see
Depend on Opportunity.
And now this favourable Hour
Entirely puts him in our Pow’r.
_Neop._ Tho’ fast asleep he hears us not, in vain
We take his Bow, and leave him here behind;
The Crown is due to him, the Gods desire
That we shou’d take him with us, but to boast
A vain Attempt will bring us foul Disgrace.
ANTISTROPHE.
Chorus. These Things are to the Gods alone,
To their all-searching Wisdom known;
But in your Answer tell in short,
And fix upon our last Resort;
For Pains th’ afflicted wakeful keep,
They only have a sleepless Sleep.
Whatever Counsel’s best to thee,
That Counsel is the best for me;
But see it be in secret done,
You know the Man I fix upon.
If your Opinion be the same
With mine, to prosecute the Scheme,
You’ll find what Difficulty lies
In all the Projects of the wise.
EPODOS.
We cannot have a fairer Wind,
Behold you see the Man is blind!
Helpless in Darkness there he lies;
Nocturnal Sleep has clos’d his Eyes.
No Motion, Hand, or Foot, or Breath,
He lies all silent there as Death;
But now he seems to look around,
And murmur out a deadly Sound.
Our Bus’ness is to seize him here;
Success is to be void of Fear.
_Neop._ Be silent then and resolute; you see
His Eyes are open’d, and his Head is rais’d.
_Phil._ O Light succeeding Sleep, Death’s Image! see,
Beyond my Hopes, the Stranger’s faithful Guard!
This I could never hope, my Son, to find,
That you with such Compassion cou’d behold
The dismal racking Torments which I bear,
And wait with kind Assistance, to relieve
A poor afflicted Soul; not so the good,
The great _Atridæ_, were they here, wou’d grant
Such friendly Aid; But thou art gen’rous, good,
And great; of Ancestors the same you’re sprung.
My nauseous Wounds, my tiresome Groans you bore
With unexampled Patience; now my Pains
Abate, they’re gone, and sunk in sweet Oblivion,
Do you yourself with helping Hand up raise me.
Now that my Torture’s vanish’d, let us haste
On Board; for Time requires our Speed.
_Neop._ What Joys I feel at this surprizing Sight!
To see you free from Pains and breathing still!
For all the Marks of ghastly Death I saw
In thy pale Face, by Life deserted quite.
Arise, my Friend, and these shall bear thee hence,
Well pleas’d to do’t if you and I command.
_Phil._ I thank thee for thy Offer; but, my Son,
Raise me thy self, lest the ungrateful Stench
Offend their Nostrils; they must bear it all
While I’m on Board, and giv’n to them in Charge.
_Neop._ Thy Will is mine----But help to raise thy self.
_Phil._ I shall; for well I’m us’d to this hard Task.
_Neop._ Ye Gods! what shall I do?---- ----
_Phil._ ---- ---- ----What’s this, my Son?
What means this sudden Change? and why these Sighs?
_Neop._ O my distracted Soul! what Doubts arise!
_Phil._ And do you doubt, my Son? O never own it.
_Neop._ My Suff’rings now are equal to his Pains. (_aside._)
_Phil._ Are you offended at my foul Disease,
And now relent to take me in your Ship?
Is this the Hardship that weighs down your Spirits.
_Neop._ All is a Hardship to a gen’rous Soul,
When ’tis oblig’d to turn against its Nature;
To act against Compassion, which was stampt
Upon it’s Essence when it first began.
_Phil._ But you do neither act nor speak a Thing
That’s unbecoming of your noble Sire,
In doing good to me a virtuous Man.
_Neop._ But for the Character which I must bear,
The base, the treach’rous Character, my Friend!
That is my Grief, ’tis that which wounds me most.
_Phil._ Your Actions give me no great Cause to fear,
But your Expressions much alarm my Soul.
_Neop._ Great _Jove_, what shall I do! I’m doubly curss’d,
Both in concealing what I shou’d reveal,
And speaking what I rather shou’d keep secret.
_Phil._ If I mistake not I am now betray’d,
And your Intent’s to leave me here behind.
_Neop._ I shall not leave thee, but my only Grief
Is that I take thee hence, to thy great Sorrow.
_Phil._ What’s this you say, my Son? your Words explain.
_Neop._ I shall no longer hide my Thoughts; you must
For _Troy_ prepare, and to the _Grecian_ Fleet
We must from hence to the _Atridæ_ sail.
_Phil._ Ah me! what’s this?---- ----
_Neop._ ---- ----Don’t grieve before you know.
_Phil._ Know what? inform me what you mean to do.
_Neop._ To free thee from this foul Disease, and then
To lay _Troy_ waste by thy assisting Hand.
_Phil._ Are you for certain then resolv’d on this?
_Neop._ Necessity commands, you must obey;
Be deaf to Anger, and in Peace submit.
_Phil._ Undone! poor Wretch! betray’d! is’t thus you act,
My Friend? O give me back my faithful Bow.
_Neop._ That cannot be; for to the Pow’rs Supreme
Justice and Publick Good command our Faith.
_Phil._ All-seeing Sun, all Terror, all Deceit!
Detested Wretch, what hast thou done to me?
How am I now betray’d? dost thou not blush
To see me thus on bended Knees before thee?
Thou impious, cruel, base, destructive Man!
Of Life you robb’d me when you took my Bow.
O give it back, upon my Knees I beg;
Return my Life’s Support, by all your Gods,
Your Country Gods! don’t rob me of my Life.
O wretched me! will you not speak one Word,
But look averse, resolv’d to keep my Right?
Ye Shores, ye Promontories, and ye Rocks,
Ye Beasts, my dumb Companions in this Isle,
To you I now complain; none else will hear
My sad Complaints, to you I speak my Grief:
To you so well acquainted with my Woes.
See what the Son of great _Achilles_ does!
He who has sworn to take me home, to _Troy_
Now bears me; and forgetful of his Vow
And plighted Hand, the sacred Bow he keeps,
Which once belong’d to the great Son of _Jove_.
He drags me to the hated _Greeks_ away,
As if some mighty Conquest he had gain’d;
What is his Triumph! but a poor dead Carcass!
A Cloud of Smoak! an incorporeal Shade!
Had I the Strength I once possess’d, in vain
Wou’d he attempt (or ev’n as now I am)
To force me; had he not o’ercome by Fraud.
Now I’m betray’d, undone! what shall I do?
Return my Bow, and be thy self again.
No Answer; but dumb Silence; then I’m lost.
To thee again, my pervious Rock, I go,
Naked and void of any earthly Food;
Now must I die enclos’d alone in thee.
No Bird, or Mount-ascending Beast shall be
Slain by my Bow; but I, poor lonely I,
Who fed on them, shall be to them for Food;
They’ll hunt for me for whom I hunted once;
And Blood for Blood, and slain for slain I’ll be.
This Evil’s from an unexpected Hand!
O may you never die, before I know
Whether for this base Action you repent!
If not; I wish you an inglorious Death.
_Chorus._ What shall we do? ’Tis now full Time to sail,
To put in Execution our Commands.
_Neop._ Compassion moves me for this friendless Man;
And has long since engag’d my Heart to him.
_Phil._ O for the Gods let pity plead for me!
And do not brand thy self with such a Stain
Of black Disgrace, as to be thought perfidious.
_Neop._ What shall I do? I wish I never had
Left _Scyros_ to be thus perplex’d with Woes.
_Phil._ Thou’rt not inclin’d to wicked Deeds thy self,
Thy Nature’s gentler far; some horrid Mind
Suggested this to thee; let others whom
So base a Crime befits perform this Task.
_Neop._ What shall we do, my Friends---- ----
_Ul._ ---- ---- ----Basest of Men!
You think not to return the Bow again.
_Phil._ O Heav’ns, methinks I hear _Ulysses_ speak!
_Ul._ And you may see him too as well as hear him.
_Phil._ Alas for me! deceiv’d! betray’d! undone!
’Tis he contriv’d the Fraud--he got my Bow.
_Ul._ ’Twas I--I own the Fraud--and no one else.
_Phil._ O give me back my Bow again---- ----
_Ul._ ---- ---- ----Not I,
But you shall march with it by Peace or Force.
_Phil._ Detested Man! shall these use Force to me?
_Ul._ They shall, except you willingly depart.
_Phil._ O _Lemnian_ Land! and all-subduing Flames
Of _Vulcan_! can you bear that I shou’d hence
Be dragg’d by Force, in Spight of thy Protection?
_Ul._ ’Tis _Jove_ that o’er this Isle presides; ’tis _Jove_;
’Tis _Jove_ decrees what I must execute.
_Phil._ Impious _Ulysses_, what Pretence is this!
You introduce the Gods to vouch your Lies.
_Ul._ No. But my Truths;----Therefore be gone you must.
_Phil._ This I deny---- ----
_Ul._ ---- ----You shall, and must obey.
_Phil._ Alas my Father has begot a Slave!
To gen’rous Freedom I’m a perfect Stranger.
_Ul._ Not so. But equal to those mighty Princes,
With whom you’re destin’d to demolish _Troy_.
_Phil._ Who I! all Racks I rather wou’d endure;
I’d rather live for ever here alone.
_Neop._ What do you mean to do?---- ----
_Phil._ ---- ---- ----I mean to fall
Headlong, and dash my Brains upon that Rock.
_Ul._ Seize him, and take him from the Precipice.
_Phil._ My Hands! what rude Affronts are these ye feel!
Robb’d of your faithful Bow, your best Defence!
You who have never fram’d one Thought of Good;
Or shewn one gen’rous Principle within;
How have you circumvented me! and gain’d
Upon my honest Heart, under Disguise
Of my Friend’s Son estrang’d, not fit to join
With thee, as he was fit to take my Part;
Artless to do but what he was enjoin’d----
’Tis evident he grieves at what is done;
At his own Rashness, and my Suff’rings more;
Thy wicked Soul, from dark Retirement, still
Contriving Evils, gain’d upon his Weakness,
And took Advantage of his tender Years;
His unexperienc’d Years; to work thy Plot:
And now, insulting Man, you bind me fast
To take me from these Shores, where once you left me,
Friendless, forsaken, banish’d, and alone;
Dead ’midst the living; may some horrid Fate
Attend thee for it; This I often pray’d.
No Joys to me the Gods propitious give;
You live in Pleasures; I am doom’d to Woes.
And what is worse become a Sport to thee
And the _Atridæ_, whom you come to serve.
It was by Force and Stratagem compell’d
You sail’d with them from _Greece_; I freely went
With sev’n good Ships commanded by my self;
From whence, as you relate, they cast me out;
As they relate it all the Blame is thine.
Whom come you now to take? why lead me hence?
On what Account? For I am nothing now.
Long since I’ve been translated to the Dead.
Thou who art hated by the Gods above,
Am I not lame, and loathsome, with my Wounds?
How can you pray to them? or burn your Incense?
Or with Libations those high Pow’rs invoke;
While I am in the Ship, in which you sail?
’Twas this Pretence you made to leave me here.
O may you perish for these Injuries!
(I once again with Zeal repeat my Curse)
For what you’ve done to me; _if Heav’n regards
The just, and makes Reprizals for the wrongs
They bear; and I am sure it does_--or else
You had not hither come----some Sting divine
Must goad you with Remorse, to think of me;
O’erwhelm’d with all the Sorrows Man can bear.
O my dear native Land! and all ye Gods!
Who see what’s done within this World below,
Avenge my present Suff’rings on them all,
If ye can pity such a Wretch as me;
In their Destruction I should find a Cure.
_Chorus._ Wretched the Man, and grievous is his Speech!
He has a Soul that will not stoop to Evils.
_Ul._ I cou’d say many things in answer to
This Speech of his, cou’d Arguments prevail;
But now I use but one; for such ’tis meet;
This is my Method with such Men as he;
When there’s a Trial of the Just and Good,
There’s none alive more piously inclin’d----
My Reasons ever did subdue; but thee
I can’t convince; for which I shall submit----
Detain him not----but let him stay behind----
We shall not need thee, while we have thy Bow;
_Teucer_ can manage it as well as you;
And I myself can bend the Bow as well,
At least as you; and take as good an Aim----
Where is the Use of thee?----Then fare thee well.
Here traverse _Lemnos_; we shall sail away,
And gain that Honour which you might obtain.
_Phil._ What shall I do? Unhappy Wretch, Shall you
Shine with those Arms among the hated _Greeks_?
_Ul._ In vain you contradict, for now I go.
_Phil._ Son of _Achilles_, won’t you speak one Word
E’er you depart, but leave me thus forlorn.
_Ul._ Begone without Regard, lest you relent;
Your gen’rous Heart must not defeat our Fortune.
_Phil._ Will ye, my Friends, fly off, and leave me thus?
And have no pity for the Wrongs I feel?
_Chorus._ This is our Captain; He determines all;
What he prescribes must be a Law to us.
_Neop._ I know _Ulysses_ will condemn me for
The Tenderness I shew; However stay,
If it seems good to _Philoctetes_; stay
Until the Sailors have the Ship prepar’d,
And we our Vows perform unto the Gods.
Perhaps his Mind may change, and then we go,
And see that you be ready at our Call.
ANTISTROPHICA.
STROPHE I.
Phil. My lonely Cave, my last Retreat,
Expos’d alike to Cold and Heat;
I never shou’d thy Limits leave,
But make thee both my House and Grave.
Alas! by me thy craggy Stones
Are fill’d with Sobs, and Sighs, and Groans!
What will become of me this Day!
No Hopes to catch the flying Prey!
I wish that Vultures here wou’d fly,
And bear me swiftly to the Sky,
And tear me piece-meal in the Air;
This wretched Life I cannot bear.
STROPHE II.
The Fault’s thy own,
And thine alone
’Tis to your self you owe this Fate:
’Twas in your Breast
To chuse the best,
And yet you chose this dismal State.
_Phil._ O wretched, wretched me! what Woes I find!
Of human Conversation quite debarr’d!
For ever--and for ever----to this Cave
Confin’d----’till Death alone must give Release.
No more I hope for Food; Life’s Fewel’s gone----
The Birds in Safety hover o’er my Head----
My Arrows lost! which were more swift than they----
A dark and subtle Stratagem’s my Ruin----
O cou’d I see its Author feel my Pains
As long as I! what Pleasure wou’d it give!
Chorus. Not I, but Heav’n, I’d have thee know,
Inflicts on thee this dreadful Blow;
Thy Imprecations then refrain,
And blame not others for thy Pain;
For I’m resolv’d, against thy Will,
To shew my Friendship for thee still.
_Phil._ What shall I do? Upon the sandy Shore
He bears the sure Provider of my Food----
Which no Hand ever forc’d before; and there
Derides my Woes, and jests upon my Torments.
O my dear Bow, wrench’d from these friendly Hands,
Cou’d you but see or feel the Wrongs I bear!
That I, who did the Son of _Jove_ succeed,
In Right of thee, must never more enjoy thee----
But by a cursed Usurpation seiz’d,
By one who had no Right to thy Succession.
Coud’st thou but see this vile deceitful Man
Of base Extraction, my insulting Foe;
What num’rous Evils he contriv’d for me,
How wou’d it grieve thee to be born by him!
Chorus. Whate’er this Person has express’d,
You shou’d interpret it the best,
Nor wrest his Meaning to invidious Sense;
The publick Orders he obey’d
Justly in ev’ry thing he said,
And well contriv’d it for his Friends Defence.
_Phil._ Ye wanton Fowl, that skim the liquid Air;
Ye spotted Beasts that graze the sloaping Hills;
Ye need not now be shy, to come within
The Reach of this my solitary Cave;
My Bow is ravish’d from me, my keen Shafts
Are gone, and I am now compleatly wretched.
What need ye fly from this unguarded Place!
Now is your Time to come and make Reprizals;
Eat me alive, and take your Flesh again;
Soon I shall quit my Life for want of Food.
Who can on empty Air support himself,
Devoid of those Supplies, those Fruits which grow
Our Nourishment from the Life-giving Earth?
Chorus. By all the Gods, if Strangers are
Entitled to thy friendly Care,
Let him a good Reception find,
I thee conjure, with willing Mind.
You may your present Grievance shun;
For none but Fools to ruin run.
_Phil._ Again, again my Anguish is renew’d;
Thou best of Men why am I ruin’d thus?
What’s this you do? why do you back re-call
My sleeping Mem’ry to my former Pains?
_Chorus._ Why say you so?---- ---- ----
_Phil._ ---- ----Because you now propose
With cruel Force to take me hence to _Troy_.
_Chorus._ It best seems so to me---- ----
_Phil._ ---- ---- ----Leave me behind.
_Chorus._ This I’m content to do; therefore I shall
Obey your Will----and to the Ship we go.
_Phil._ Don’t for the Love of _Jove_, to whom we pray.
_Chorus._ Be mod’rate then---- ----
_Phil._ ---- ----O for the Gods don’t leave me.
_Chorus._ What makes you roar with so much Vehemence?
_Phil._ O Fortune, Fortune, I’m undone for ever!
My painful, burning Foot, how shall I now
Hereafter thy unhappy Wound sustain!
Return, my Friends, ah! turn again to me.
_Chorus._ What can we do but what you have desir’d?
_Phil._ Why shou’d my loud Complaints provoke your Anger?
I’m not my self; Distraction makes me wild.
_Chorus._ Then be advis’d, and come along with us.
_Phil._ No--never--never--firmly I’m resolv’d----
Tho’ threat’ning _Jove_ with his red flaming Hand
Shou’d come, and point his Thunder at my Breast;
Farewel to _Troy_, and all the Army round it,
Who cast me off for these distracting Pains.
One thing I must entreat you, grant me one.
_Chorus._ What’s that?---- ---- ----
_Phil._ ---- ----A Sword, or Ax, or any Weapon.
_Chorus._ What Murder wou’d you fain commit?----
_Phil._ ---- ---- ---- ----My Head----
My Limbs--with my own Hands, I’d chop them off;
For my Disease does loudly call for Death.
_Chorus._ Why so?----
_Phil._ Because I want to go and seek my Father.
_Chorus._ Speak in what Country----
_Phil._ ---- ---- ---- ----With the Shades below;
For he no longer lives upon the Earth.
O my dear Father’s Country, how I long
To see you once again! I who forsook
Your sacred Altars to attend the _Greeks_,
My greatest Foes; for which I’m thus rewarded.
_Chorus._ Long since I had departed to my Ship,
But that I see _Ulysses_ here advance,
And _Neoptolemus_ attends him hither.
_Ul._ Tell me the Reason why you hasten back?
_Neop._ To mend the Wrongs I did some time ago.
_Ul._ You shock me much. What were the Wrongs you did?
_Neop._ ’Twas in obeying you and all the Army.
_Ul._ What did you act repugnant to your Honour?
_Neop._ By Fraud I did ensnare the Innocent.
_Ul._ As how? Alas, what new Device is this?
_Neop._ No new Device. But as to _Pæan_’s Son----
_Ul._ What will you do? I dread what he intends.
_Neop._ I will return his Bow again to him.
_Ul._ O Heav’ns! what do you mean? You will not sure.
_Neop._ I got them basely, ’gainst all Laws of Justice.
_Ul._ Is’t to perplex me that you say this thing?
Speak, by th’ Immortal Gods I must conjure thee.
_Neop._ Is it perplexing to declare the Truth?
_Ul._ What say’st thou? or what Speech is this that ’scapes
Thy Lips? thou Son of great _Achilles_, tell.
_Neop._ Once can’t suffice; but twice, or thrice I must
Repeat my Words. You’re slow of Apprehension.
_Ul._ I wish I had not heard thee once begin.
_Neop._ Then be content; you’ve heard my Resolution.
_Ul._ There is a certain Person will prevent thee.
_Neop._ What say you? who will dare presume to do it?
_Ul._ Why all the _Greeks_; and I amongst the rest.
_Neop._ Tho’ you be wise you talk like one that’s mad.
_Ul._ But you do neither think or act with Wisdom.
_Neop._ _Justice surpasses Wisdom----I am just._
_Ul._ How are you just, when what’s acquir’d by me,
You now return without my Leave?--
_Neop._ ---- ---- ---- ---- ----But I,
’Tis plain, was guilty of a horrid Crime.
_Ul._ Do you not dread the _Grecian_ Army, Friend?
_Neop._ When Justice sides with me I dread it not;
Nor shall I ever by thy Pow’r be sway’d.
_Ul._ I shall not with the _Trojans_ fight, but thee.
_Neop._ Happen what will---- ---- ----
_Ul._ ---- ---- ----You see my Right Hand fixt
Upon the Handle of my Sword---- ----
_Neop._ ---- ---- ---- ---- ----I do;
And am no less prepar’d to fight than you.
_Ul._ Well, Sir--I’ll let the Army know your Mind,
And they will find a way to punish you.
_Neop._ You’re wise indeed, if always thus you act;
You never will have any Cause to grieve----
Thou Son of _Pæan_, _Philoctetes_, come
And leave thy lonesome craggy Habitation.
_Phil._ What Clamour’s this I hear disturbs my Cave?
Why do ye call me out? For what, my Friends?
Alas! some Evil sure. What brought you here?
Is it to add Misfortunes to Misfortunes?
_Neop._ Confide in me, and listen to my Words.
_Phil._ So you dissembled once before when you
Prov’d false, and robb’d me of my faithful Bow.
_Neop._ I don’t dissemble now; but tell me whether
You here intend to stay, or sail with us.
_Phil._ Hold--not one Word--you speak them all in vain.
_Neop._ You’re so resolv’d---- ---- ----
_Phil._ ---- ----More fixt than Words can tell.
_Neop._ All my Design was to perswade you hence;
But since I find that my Proposal’s vain,
And much afflicts your Mind, I shall desist.
_Phil._ All that you say is vain, and you shall never
Gain the Affection of my Heart; for you
Basely betray’d me of my Life. And now,
Thou worst of Men, worst Son of the best Father,
You come with your Advice, whom most I hate.
May the _Atridæ_ perish, and may you
And your Companion, subtle, false _Ulysses_.
_Neop._ Curse us no more, but here receive your Bow.
_Phil._ How say you! sure I’m not deceiv’d again.
_Neop._ No. By the Pow’r of sacred _Jove_ you’re not.
_Phil._ How grateful is thy Speech, if this be true!
_Neop._ It shall be true in Fact; here stretch thy Hand,
And be Possessor of thy Arms again.
_Ul._ This I forbid----I call the Gods to witness.
In the _Atridæ_’s Name, and all the Army.
_Phil._ Whose Voice is this, my Son? is’t not _Ulysses_?
_Ul._ ’Tis I for certain, and I’ll take thee hence.
Whether _Achilles’_ Son consents or no.
_Phil._ You shall not triumph long, if once I take
This Arrow, and direct it at thy Breast.
_Neop._ O shoot him not----I beg thee lay it down.
_Phil._ Restrain me not----My dearest Son let go.
_Neop._ I will not---- ---- ----
_Phil._ ----You have hindred me from killing
An Enemy---- ---- ----
_Neop._ ----’Tis neither good for you nor me.
_Phil._ Thus much I’d have thee know, the _Grecian_ Chiefs
Are Cowards all; but valiant in their Tongues.
_Neop._ ’Tis true--But now you’ve got your Bow, your Anger
Ceases of Course, and all Complaints of me.
_Phil._ I grant they do; and O my Son! you’ve shewn
The noble Race from whence you sprung, not from
The subtle _Sisyphus_; but from _Achilles_,
Famous among the Living, and the Dead.
_Neop._ Thy Praises of my Father, and my self,
Transport me much; but hear what I advise.
_Whatever Lot by Heav’n’s assign’d to us
We must with humble Patience bear, ’tis fixt,
And once decreed must be unalterable._
Those who submit to voluntary Woes
Deserve not our Forgiveness, or Compassion.
You are grown fierce with Anger, and won’t hear
The Counsel of a Friend; for tho’ he comes
With true Benevolence to set thee right;
You spurn his Admonitions, and you deem
Him as your greatest Foe. But still I’ll speak;
And call great _Jove_ to witness what I say.
Then hear the Sequel--print it in thy Mind--
And be convinc’d this Wound, which frets thee so,
Was Heav’n’s Decree; because you did approach
The Guard of _Chrysa_, that same hidden Viper,
Which watches the uncover’d Temple there.
And know, thou never shalt enjoy Release
From grievous Pain, while that all-seeing Sun
Rises in th’ Eastern Clime, and sets again,
Except you go a Voluntier to _Troy_;
Where we shall have the Sons of _Æsculapius_
To work thy Cure, and _Troy_ shall be subdu’d
By these thy Arrows, and by my Assistance.
How I’m inform’d of this be pleas’d to hear----
We have a _Trojan_ Prophet taken Pris’ner,
One _Helenus_, who says all this must be
Fulfill’d, and he’s a Prophet of undoubted Credit;
Nay more, he says this very Summer will
The Fate of _Troy_ determine; if ’tis false
He does declare his Life shall be the Forfeit.
Now you’re assur’d of this, consent and come;
It is a noble Prize, that you alone
Of all the _Greeks_ shou’d be esteem’d the bravest;
And next to have Release from all thy Pains;
To gain a Conquest over _Troy_, that shall
Bring you the greatest Glory Man can gain.
_Phil._ Detested Life! why am I here preserv’d!
Why not transmitted to the Shades below!
What shall I do? How shall I now suspect
His Truth, who’s so benevolent to me?
But grant I yield; How then shall I behold
The Light of Heav’n? To whom shall I appeal?
Ye shining Orbs above, that view all things,
How will ye bear to see me go, and join
The Sons of _Atreus_, who were once my Ruin?
Or join with all-destroying false _Ulysses_?
’Tis not the past that frets my anxious Soul,
But the sad Prospects of my Grief’s to come;
For they whose Minds are pregnant still with Evils,
Pour forth a num’rous Brood, they never fail.
I wonder more at you for this, who ought
Never to think of _Troy_, when such Disgrace
Befel you there, robb’d of your Father’s Armour,
Which was adjudg’d to curss’d _Laertes’_ Son,
And _Ajax_ turn’d aside; methinks you shou’d
Use all your Pow’r to hinder me from going;
Sure after such Affronts you cannot go
To join in their Designs; and force me hence;
But sacred keep your Oath, and steer us home;
And there at _Scyros_ pass your Life in Peace;
Let all those Wretches die as they deserve.
Thus will you doubly please your aged Sire,
And me, and equal Thanks from both receive;
Thus you’ll escape a foul Surmise, nor be
Suppos’d a Fav’rer of such wicked Men.
_Neop._ All that you say is well. But still I wou’d
Entreat you to obey the Gods and me;
Sail with your Friend, and leave this hated Shore.
_Phil._ What! to the Land of _Troy_! to _Atreus’_ Sons!
And with this bleeding Foot, which oft reminds me
What barb’rous Treatment I from them receiv’d.
_Neop._ It is my best Advice; for there you’ll find
A full Discharge of all the Pains you feel.
_Phil._ What’s this you say? what’s the Advice you give?
_Neop._ ’Tis what will bring Advantage to us both.
_Phil._ Don’t you disgrace the Gods in saying this?
_Neop._ No. But I rather their Commands fulfil.
_Phil._ For the _Atridæ_ do you speak, or me?
_Neop._ I am your Friend--and I shall say no more.
_Phil._ Where is your Friendship, when you thus betray
And give me up unto my Enemies?
_Neop._ My Friend, be humbler in Adversity.
_Phil._ I know you well, you now contrive my Ruin.
_Neop._ Not I----But this I’ll say----You’re much mistaken.
_Phil._ I don’t mistake, that I was here expos’d
By the _Atridæ_, and by all the _Greeks_.
_Neop._ Your Foes are now your Friends, and come to save you.
_Phil._ I never will consent to go to _Troy_.
_Neop._ What shall I do! since you reject my Counsel,
I can with Ease desist; and say no more;
But leave you to your Choice to live in Pain.
_Phil._ Then give me leave to do what suits me best,
And as you pledg’d your Right-hand’s Faith to do it,
Conduct me home, my Son, without delay;
And think no more of _Troy_;----I’ve griev’d enough.
_Neop._ Since ’tis your Will we go----
_Phil._ ---- ---- ----O gen’rous Word!
_Neop._ Then let us move----
_Phil._ ---- ----As well as Pains allow.
_Neop._ How shall I shun the Fury of the _Greeks_?
_Phil._ Let that be not thy Care----
_Neop._ ---- ---- ----But what if they
Shou’d come and work my Country’s Overthrow!
_Phil._ Then I am there----
_Neop._ ---- ----But how can you assist.
_Phil._ I have the Arrows here of _Hercules_.
_Neop._ What do you say?---- ----
_Phil._ ----I’ll drive them from thy Country.
_Neop._ If this you’ll do--march on--adore the Earth.
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