But the vile vulgar, ever discontent, Their growing fears in secret murmurs vent; Still prone to change, though still the slaves of state, And sure the monarch whom they have, to hate; New lords they madly make, then tamely bear, And softly curse the tyrants whom they fear. And one of those who groan beneath the sway 230 Of kings imposed, and grudgingly obey, (Whom envy to the great, and vulgar spite, With scandal arm'd, th' ignoble mind's delight) Exclaim'd--'O Thebes! for thee what fates remain, What woes attend this inauspicious reign? Must we, alas! our doubtful necks prepare Each haughty master's yoke by turns to bear, And still to change whom changed we still must fear? These now control a wretched people's fate These can divide, and these reverse the state: 240 E'en fortune rules no more--O servile land, Where exiled tyrants still by turns command! Thou sire of gods and men, imperial Jove! Is this th' eternal doom decreed above? On thy own offspring hast thou fix'd this fate From the first birth of our unhappy state, When banish'd Cadmus, wandering o'er the main, For lost Europa search'd the world in vain, And, fated in Boeotian fields to found, A rising empire on a foreign ground, 250 First raised our walls on that ill omen'd plain Where earth-born brothers were by brothers slain? What lofty looks th' unrivall'd monarch bears! How all the tyrant in his face appears! What sullen fury clouds his scornful brow! Gods! how his eyes with threatening ardour glow! Can this imperious lord forget to reign, Quit all his state, descend, and serve again? Yet who, before, more popularly bow'd? Who more propitious to the suppliant crowd? 260 Patient of right, familiar in the throne, What wonder then? he was not then alone. Oh wretched we! a vile, submissive train, Fortune's tame fools, and slaves in every reign! 'As when two winds with rival force contend, This way and that the wavering sails they bend, While freezing Boreas and black Eurus blow, Now here, now there, the reeling vessel throw; Thus on each side, alas! our tottering state Feels all the fury of resistless fate, 270 And doubtful still, and still distracted stands, While that prince threatens, and while this commands.'