Or that fell Cretan bull whose terror filled 230 A hundred towns? Among his herds remote, The three-formed shepherd by Tartessus' shore Was slain, and from the farthest west his herds Were driven as booty. Now Cithaeron feeds The cattle once to Ocean known. Again, When bidden to penetrate the sultry zone 235 Of summer's burning sun, those scorchéd realms Which midday parches with its piercing rays, He clove the ponderous mountain barriers, And made a pathway for the rushing sea. He next assailed the rich Hesperides, And bore therefrom the watchful dragon's spoil 240 Of golden fruit. Then Lerna's savage beast, An evil creature constantly renewed, Did he not overcome by fire at last, And teach it how to die? Did he not seek Within the clouds the dire Stymphalian birds, Whose spreading wings were wont to obscure the day? He was not conquered by the maiden queen 245 Who ruled the Amazons and ever kept Her couch in virgin state. Nor did his hands, Courageous to attempt all glorious deeds, Disdain to cleanse the vile Augean stalls. But what avail these toils? For he alone Cannot enjoy the world he saved. And now The world perceives the giver of its peace 250 Is absent from its sight. Now prosperous crime Is called by virtue's name; good men obey The guilty, might is counted right, and fear O'ershadows law. Before my eyes I saw The sons who dared defend their father's throne Fall dead beneath the tyrant's murderous hand; 255 I saw King Creon's self by death o'ercome, The latest son of Cadmus' noble line; And with his head the royal diadem Was reft away. Who now could weep enough For Thebes? Proud land and mother of the gods, What master fears she now, she, from whose fields 260 And fertile bosom sprang that band of youth With swords all ready drawn; whose mighty walls Amphion, son of Jove, once built, its stones Compelling by the magic of his lyre; Down to whose citadel not once alone The father of the gods from heaven came? This royal city which the immortals oft Has entertained, which has divinities 265 Produced, and (heaven forgive the boastful word) Perchance will yet produce, is now oppressed Beneath a shameful yoke. O royal race Of Cadmus, noble state Amphion ruled, Low hast thou fallen indeed! Dost thou obey A low-born exile, driven from his land 270 And yet oppressing ours? And now, alas, He, who on land and sea doth punish crime, Who breaks all cruel rule with righteous hand, Far off obeys another, and himself Endures those ills from which he others saved; And Lycus rules the Thebes of Hercules! But not for long; he soon will come again, 275 And punish all the wrongs; he suddenly