The Fury heard, while on Cocytus' brink Her snakes, untied, sulphureous waters drink; But at the summons roll'd her eyes around, And snatch'd the starting serpents from the ground. Not half so swiftly shoots along in air The gliding lightning or descending star; Through crowds of airy shades she wing'd her flight, 130 And dark dominions of the silent night; Swift as she pass'd the flitting ghosts withdrew, And the pale spectres trembled at her view: To th' iron gates of Tenarus she flies, There spreads her dusky pinions to the skies. The day beheld, and, sickening at the sight, Veil'd her fair glories in the shades of night. Affrighted Atlas on the distant shore Trembled, and shook the heavens and gods he bore. Now from beneath Malea's airy height 140 Aloft she sprung, and steer'd to Thebes her flight; With eager speed the well-known journey took, Nor here regrets the hell she late forsook. A hundred snakes her gloomy visage shade, A hundred serpents guard her horrid head; In her sunk eyeballs dreadful meteors glow: Such rays from Phoebe's bloody circle flow, When, labouring with strong charms, she shoots from high A fiery gleam, and reddens all the sky. Blood stain'd her cheeks, and from her mouth there came 150 Blue steaming poisons, and a length of flame. From every blast of her contagious breath Famine and drought proceed, and plagues and death. A robe obscene was o'er her shoulders thrown, A dress by Fates and Furies worn alone. She toss'd her meagre arms; her better hand In waving circles whirl'd a funeral brand: A serpent from her left was seen to rear His flaming crest, and lash the yielding air. But when the Fury took her stand on high, 160 Where vast Cithaeron's top salutes the sky, A hiss from all the snaky tire went round: The dreadful signal all the rocks rebound, And through th' Achaian cities send the sound. Oete, with high Parnassus, heard the voice; Eurotas' banks remurmur'd to the noise; Again Leucothoe shook at these alarms, And press'd Palaermon closer in her arms. Headlong from thence the glowing Fury springs, And o'er the Theban palace spreads her wings, 170 Once more invades the guilty dome, and shrouds Its bright pavilions in a veil of clouds. Straight with the rage of all their race possess'd, Stung to the soul, the brothers start from rest, And all their Furies wake within their breast: Their tortured minds repining Envy tears, And Hate, engender'd by suspicious fears: And sacred thirst of sway, and all the ties Of nature broke; and royal perjuries; And impotent desire to reign alone, 180 That scorns the dull reversion of a throne: Each would the sweets of sovereign rule devour, While Discord waits upon divided power.