Jocasta's son, and Thebes my native place." 805 To whom the king (who felt his gen'rous breast Touched with concern for his unhappy guest) Replies: "Ah! why forbears the son to name His wretched father, known too well by fame? Fame, that delights around the world to stray, 810 Scorns not to take our Argos in her way. Ev'n those who dwell where suns at distance roll, In northern wilds, and freeze beneath the pole; And those who tread the burning Lybian lands, The faithless Syrtes and the moving sands; 815 Who view the western sea's extremest bounds, Or drink of Ganges in their eastern grounds; All these the woes of Oedipus have known, Your fates, your furies, and your haunted town. If on the sons the parents' crimes descend, 820 What prince from those his lineage can defend? Be this thy comfort, that 'tis thine t' efface, } With virtuous acts, thy ancestor's disgrace, } And be thyself the honour of thy race. } But see! the stars begin to steal away, 825 And shine more faintly at approaching day; Now pour the wine; and in your tuneful lays Once more resound the great Apollo's praise." "O father Phoebus![120] whether Lycia's coast[121] And snowy mountain, thy bright presence boast; 830 Whether to sweet Castalia[122] thou repair, And bathe in silver dews thy yellow hair; Or pleased to find fair Delos float no more, Delight in Cynthus,[123] and the shady shore; Or choose thy seat in Ilion's proud abodes, 835 The shining structures raised by lab'ring gods;[124] By thee the bow and mortal shafts are borne; Eternal charms thy blooming youth adorn: Skilled in the laws of secret fate above, And the dark counsels of almighty Jove, 840 'Tis thine the seeds of future war to know,[125] The change of sceptres, and impending woe, When direful meteors spread, through glowing air, Long trails of light, and shake their blazing hair. Thy rage the Phrygian felt, who durst aspire 845 T' excel the music of thy heav'nly lyre;[126] Thy shafts avenged lewd Tityus' guilty flame, Th' immortal victim of thy mother's fame;[127] Thy hand slew Python, and the dame who lost Her num'rous offspring for a fatal boast.[128] 850 In Phlegyas' doom thy just revenge appears, Condemned to furies and eternal fears; He views his food, but dreads, with lifted eye, The mould'ring rock that trembles from on high.[129] "Propitious hear our prayer, O pow'r divine! 855 And on thy hospitable Argos shine; Whether the style of Titan[130] please thee more, Whose purple rays th' Achæmenes adore;