And be it dark-examine it no further,
Nor seek to know what more you have to suffer.
Let not your proffered kindness be withdrawn,
Through any fault of mine.
Choose! whether shall I tell thee of thyself,
And of thy wanderings, or of him who shall
Be my deliverer.
Vouchsafe! and claim a double gratitude!
Impart, what course remains for her, to us
Who shall redeem thee; most I long to know it.
I yield to your entreaty, which it ill
Becomes me to oppose; then listen, Io!
And on the tablets of your memory grave
The painful course I have still to trace ..... Soon then,
As you have crost the Pool Mœotis, bound
Of either continent, seek the Orient sun,
And meet his burning chariot-wheels; a rough
And boisterous sea o'erpast, you will arrive
At Cisthene's Gorgonian plains, where live
The swanlike maidens three, daughters of Phorcys,
The Grææ; old and wrinkled from their birth,
One eye they have, one tooth, for use of all,
Each in her turn, whom visits not a beam
Of sun by day, or moon by night; and near,
The Gorgons, dragon-winged, and hydra-tressed,
Those loathsome hags; whose eyes no mortal man
Could look upon, and breathe the breath of life.
I tell you this, to warn you of their power.
Beware, too, of another sight of horror,
The Gryphins, Jove's dumb guards, part-beast, part-bird,
With talons armed, and sharp and crooked beaks;
Nor to be dreaded less, their foes, the troop
Of one-eyed Arimaspians, who abide
About the stream, paven with sands of gold,
Called Pluton; shun with equal care these fiends.
Still onward journeying, you at length shall reach
A sable tribe, whose dwelling is beside
The fountains of the sun, on Niger's banks,
Follow its downward steps, till it descends,
A mighty cataract from the Bibline mountains,
And losing there its name of Æthiops,
The sacred Nile with his salubrious tide
Shall lead you on to those deep fertile lands
Whose triple sides his stream encloses, where
A long and numerous colony shall be founded
From you, and from your children, who shall hold
The land in heritage: here end your toils.....
And should you still be doubtful of your way,
Speak! and I will reply! fear not to tax
My leisure! I have more than I could wish.
If aught be left unsaid, or unexplained,
Say on! but should the tale be told, remember Your promise! what, I scarcely need remind you.
My words have brought her labours to a close;
But that she may not doubt my narrative,
I will recount, as shortly as I can,
What she endured upon her journey hither;
A certain proof that all I say is true.
First then, you entered the Molossian plains,
That circuit wide Dodona's grove, the site
Of Jove's Thesprotian shrine, whose sacred oaks
Have gifts prophetic, and from whom you learnt,
Without obscurity, you were doomed to be
The wife of Jove, a flattering fortune truly:
Pursued by furies still, the line of coast
Following, you rushed to Rhea's ample bay,
Whence your reverted steps and devious course
Drifted you hither, know! in future times,
This deep and inland sea in memory,
And an eternal monument of you,
And of your passage, shall be called Ionian;
No more.... Be this a certain sign, that I
Have a pervading vision, that can pierce
Beyond the narrow bounds of other minds.....
I now return whence I digressed-What yet
Remains, I thus relate to them and you.
There is a city called Canopus, last
Of all that land, built at the mouth of Nile,
And its embankments; Jove will there bring back
Your reason, and restore you to yourself
By his fond touch alone; and named from that
Miraculous pressure of his hand, shall spring
Black Epaphus, destined to enjoy the land,
Far as the river with its overflow
Shall irrigate the soil; the fifth in line
From him, two brothers, one with fifty sons;
And one as many daughters, will arise,
Which maidens, by their father led, shall fly
To Argos, shunning the detested yoke
Of unpermitted nuptials; but the youths,
Like hawks pursuing madly down the wind
Doves in the eagerness of prey, shall pounce
Upon their kindred, blind to fate, and what
May follow such an ineffectual chace . . .
That fate awaits them, in a foreign land,
Pelasgia hides their bodies, not subdued
In war with men, or vanquished in the day,
But by the hand of virgins, and in darkness,
That nerves the arm to any deeds of blood;
And dark the deed, for each a victim falls
To his wife's dagger, on his bridal night:
Such Hymeneals light on all my foes!
Yet one shall listen to the voice of love,
And weigh, with woman's mind the shame of weakness
And infamy of murder, till the soft
And tender pleadings of a passionate heart
Blunt the keen weapon's edge, and save her husband.
In Argos shall she reign, and her sons' sons;
But long the tale, and from her race shall spring
The bender of the bow, of force to break
These chains, and end my sufferance..... thus spake,
Oracular, my venerable mother
Titanian Themis; how, and when these things
May come to pass, it boots not me to tell,
Nor would it profit you to hear.
Unutterable woe! Oimé! Oimé!
I burn! I burn! here! here..... the flame consumes meMy reason totters on her seat.. the lash
Of furies goads me, the barbed stings of fire
Pierce my heart's core with agony-my poor heart
In audible pulsation beats against
My breast, and now it stops-my eyes roll wildly,
As bursting from their sockets..... all things spin
In rapid evolution round me-my brain reels,
As in the whirlwind of my fury torn
I wander from my course
my tongue denies
Its office-unconnected ravings all, my words!
They cannot image my despair..... my thoughts
O'erwhelm and overpower me with their torrent,
They plunge me deeper in the waves!
And dash me on the rocks! ..... On! On! Away!
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