'Bless'd be thy dust, and let eternal fame Attend thy manes, and preserve thy name, Undaunted hero! who, divinely brave, In such a cause disdained thy life to save, But view'd the shrine with a superior look, And its upbraided godhead thus bespoke: "With piety, the soul's securest guard, And conscious virtue, still its own reward, Willing I come, unknowing how to fear, Nor shalt thou, Phoebus, find a suppliant here: 760 Thy monster's death to me was owed alone, And 'tis a deed too glorious to disown. Behold him here, for whom, so many days, Impervious clouds conceal'd thy sullen rays; For whom, as man no longer claim'd thy care, Such numbers fell by pestilential air! But if th' abandon'd race of human kind From gods above no more compassion find; If such inclemency in heaven can dwell, Yet why must unoffending Argos feel 770 The vengeance due to this unlucky steel? On me, on me, let all thy fury fall, Nor err from me, since I deserve it all: Unless our desert cities please thy sight, Or funeral flames reflect a grateful light. Discharge thy shafts, this ready bosom rend, And to the shades a ghost triumphant send; But for my country let my fate atone; Be mine the vengeance, as the crime my own!" 'Merit distress'd, impartial heaven relieves: 780 Unwelcome life relenting Phoebus gives; For not the vengeful power, that glow'd with rage, With such amazing virtue durst engage. The clouds dispersed, Apollo's wrath expired, And from the wondering god th' unwilling youth retired. Thence we these altars in his temple raise, And offer annual honours, feasts, and praise; These solemn feasts propitious Phoebus please; These honours, still renew'd, his ancient wrath appease. 'But say, illustrious guest, (adjoin'd the king) 790 What name you bear, from what high race you spring? The noble Tydeus stands confess'd, and known Our neighbour prince, and heir of Calydon: Relate your fortunes, while the friendly night And silent hours to various talk invite.' The Theban bends on earth his gloomy eyes, Confused, and sadly thus at length replies:-- 'Before these altars how shall I proclaim (O generous prince!) my nation or my name, Or through what veins our ancient blood has roll'd? 800 Let the sad tale for ever rest untold! Yet if, propitious to a wretch unknown, You seek to share in sorrows not your own, Know then from Cadmus I derive my race, Jocasta's son, and Thebes my native place.'