Impervious to the step of man it stands,
Though borne by twenty feet, though arm'd with
twenty hands;
Smooth as the polish of the mirror, rise
The slippery sides, and shoot into the skies.
Full in the centre of this rock display'd,
A yawning cavern casts a dreadful shade:
Nor the fleet arrow from the twanging bow,
Sent with full force, could reach the depth below.
Wide to the west the horrid gulf extends,
And the dire passage down to hell descends.
O fly the dreadful sight! expand thy sails,
Ply the strong oar, and catch the nimble gales:
Here Scylla bellows from her dire abodes,
Tremendous pest! abhorr'd by man and gods!
Hideous her voice, and with less terrors roar
The whelps of lions in the midnight hour.
Twelve feet, deform'd and foul, the fiend dispreads;
Six horrid necks she rears, and six terrific heads;
Her jaws grin dreadful with three rows of teeth;
Jaggy they stand, the gaping den of death;
Her parts obscene the raging billows hide;
Her bosom terribly o'erlooks the tide.
When stung with hunger she embroils the flood,
The seadog and the dolphin are her food;
She makes the huge leviathan her prey,
And all the monsters of the watery way;
The swiftest racer of the azure plain
Here fills her sails and spreads her oars in vain ;
Fell Scylla rises, in her fury roars,
At once six mouths expands, at once six men de
THE DEATH OF ARGUS.
THUS, near the gates conferring as they drew,
Argus, the dog, his ancient master knew ;
He, not unconscious of the voice and tread,
Lifts to the sound his ear, and rears his head!-
Bred by Ulysses, nourish'd at his board;
But ah! not fated long to please his lord!
To him, his swiftness and his strength were vain ;
The voice of glory call'd him o'er the main.
Till then in every silvan chase renown'd,
With Argus, Argus, rung the woods around;
With him the youth pursued the goat or fawn,
Or traced the mazy leveret o'er the lawn.
Now left to man's ingratitude he lay,
Unhoused, neglected, in the public way;
And where on heaps the rich manure was spread,
Obscene with reptiles, took his sordid bed.
He knew his lord :—he knew, and strove to meet
(In vain he strove), to crawl, and kiss his feet;
Yet (all he could) his tail, his ears, his eyes,
Salute his master, and confess his joys.
Soft pity touch'd the mighty master's soul:
Adown his cheek a tear unbidden stole;
Stole unperceived; he turn'd his head, and dried
The drop humane:-then thus impassion'd cried—
'What noble beast in this abandon'd state
Lies here all helpless at Ulysses' gate!
His bulk and beauty speak no vulgar praise;
If, as he seems, he was in better days,
Some care his age deserves: or was he prized
For worthless beauty! therefore now despised?
Such dogs and men there are; mere things of state,
And always cherish'd by their friends, the great.'
'Not Argus so (Eumæus thus rejoin'd),
But served a master of a nobler kind:
Who never, never shall behold him more!
Long, long since perish'd on a distant shore!
O had you seen him, vigorous, bold, and young,
Swift as a stag, and as a lion strong!
Him no fell savage on the plain withstood,
None scaped him, bosom'd in the gloomy wood;
His eye how piercing, and his scent how true,
To wind the vapour in the tainted dew!
Such, when Ulysses left his natal coast;
Now years unnerve him, and his lord is lost!
The women keep the generous creature bare;
A sleek and idle race is all their care:
The master gone, the servants what restrains?
Or dwells humanity where riot reigns?
Jove fix'd it certain, that whatever day
Makes man a slave, takes half his worth away.'
This said, the honest herdsman strode before:
The musing monarch pauses at the door;
The dog, whom Fate had granted to behold
His lord, when twenty tedious years had roll'd,
Takes a last look, and, having seen him, dies;
So closed for ever faithful Argus' eyes!
THE REVEALING OF ULYSSES.
AND now his well known bow the master bore,
Turn'd on all sides, and view'd it o'er and o'er;
Lest time or worms had done the weapon wrong
Its owner absent, and untried so long.
While some deriding- How he turns the bow!
Some other like it sure the man must know,
Or else would copy; or in bows he deals:
Perhaps he makes them; or perhaps he steals.'
'Heaven to this wretch (another cried) be kind!
And bless, in all to which he stands inclined,
With such good fortune as he now shall find.'
Heedless he heard them :-but disdain'd reply; The bow perusing with exactest eye.
Then, as some heavenly minstrel, taught to sing
High notes, responsive to the trembling string,
To some new strain when he adapts the lyre,
Or the dumb lute refits with vocal wire,
Relaxes, strains, and draws them to and fro;
So the great master drew the mighty bow:
And drew with ease. One hand aloft display'd
The bending horns, and one the string essay'd.
From his essaying hand the string let fly [cry.
Twang'd short and sharp, like the shrill swallow's
A general horror ran through all the race;
Sunk was each heart, and pale was every face.
Signs from above ensued :—the' unfolding sky
In lightning burst; Jove thunder'd from on high.
Fired at the call of heaven's almighty lord,
He snatch'd the shaft that glitter'd on the board
Fast by (the rest lay sleeping in the sheath,
But soon to fly, the messengers of death).
Now, sitting as he was, the cord he drew, Through every ringlet leveling his view; Then notch'd the shaft, released, and gave it wing; The whizzing arrow vanish'd from the string, Sung on direct, and threaded every ring.
The solid gate its fury scarcely bounds;
Pierced through and through the solid gate re-
sounds.
[shame :
Then to the prince- Nor have I wrought thee
Nor err'd this hand unfaithful to its aim;
Nor proved the toil too hard; nor have I lost
That ancient vigour, once my pride and boast.
Ill I deserve these haughty peers' disdain :-
Now let them comfort their dejected train:
In sweet repast the present hour employ,
Nor wait till evening for the genial joy:
Then to the lute's soft voice prolong the night;-
Music, the banquet's most refined delight.'
He said, then gave a nod ;-and at the word
Telemachus girds on his shining sword.
Fast by his father's side he takes his stand;
The beamy javelin lightens in his hand.
Then fierce the hero o'er the threshold strode; Stripp'd of his rags, he blazed out like a god. Full in their face the lifted bow he bore, And quiver'd deaths, a formidable store; Before his feet the rattling shower he threw, And thus terrific, to the suitor crew
'One venturous game this hand has won to-day; Another, princes! yet remains to play: Another mark our arrow must attain. Phoebus, assist! nor be the labour vain.'
Swift as the word the parting arrow sings; And bears thy fate, Antinous, on its wings.
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