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And they, ev'n they, who fleeting life recal,
Feel the same powers, and undistinguish'd fall.
If any proves so daring to attend

His sick companion or his darling friend,
The' officious wretch sucks in contagious breath,
And with his friend does sympathize in death.
And now the care and hopes of life are past,
They please their fancies, and indulge their taste;
At brooks and streams, regardless of their shame,
Each sex, promiscuous, strives to quench their flame;
Nor do they strive in vain to quench it there,
For thirst, and life, at once extinguish'd are.
Thus in the brooks the dying bodies sink,
But heedless still the rash survivors drink.

So much uneasy down the wretches hate,
They fly their beds to struggle with their fate;
But if decaying strength forbids to rise, [lies.
The victim crawls and rolls, till on the ground he
Each shuns his bed as each would shun his tomb,
And thinks the' infection only lodg'd at home.

Here one with fainting steps does slowly creep O'er heaps of dead, and straight augments the heap; Another, while his strength and tongue prevail'd, Bewails his friend, and falls himself bewail'd; This with imploring looks surveys the skies, The last dear office of his closing eyes, But finds the heavens implacable, and dies. What now, ah! what employ'd my troubled mind, But only hopes my subjects' fate to find? What place soe'er my weeping eyes survey, There in lamented heaps the vulgar lay; As acorns scatter when the winds prevail, Or mellow fruit from shaken branches fall.

You see that dome which rears its front so high: Tis sacred to the monarch of the sky: How many there with unregarded tears, And fruitless vows, sent up successless pray'rs ! There fathers for expiring sons implor'd, And there the wife bewail'd her gasping lord; With pious offerings they appease the skies, But they, ere yet the' atoning vapours rise, Before the altars fall, themselves a sacrifice; They fall, while yet their hands the gums contain, Their gums surviving, but their offerers slain.

The destin'd ox, with holy garlands crown'd, Prevents the blow, and feels an unexpected wound: When I myself invok'd the powers divine, To drive the fatal pest from me and mine; When now the priest with hands uplifted stood, Prepar❜d to strike and shed the sacred blood, The gods themselves the mortal stroke bestow, The victim falls, but they impart the blow; Scarce was the knife with the pale purple stain❜d, And no presages could be then obtain❜d, From putrid entrails, where the' infection reign'd. Death stalk'd around with such resistless sway, The temples of the gods his force obey, And suppliants feel his stroke, while yet they pray. 'Go now,' said he, 'your deities implore For fruitless aid, for I defy their pow'r.' Then with a curs'd malicious joy survey'd The very altars stain'd with trophies of the dead. The rest grown mad, and frantic with despair, Urge their own fate, and so prevent the fear. Strange madness that, when death pursued so fast, To' anticipate the blow with impious haste.

No decent honour to their urns are paid,
Nor could the graves receive the numerous dead;
For, or they lay unburied on the ground,
Or unadorn'd, a needy funeral found;

All reverence past, the fainting wretches fight
For funeral piles, which were another's right.
Unmourn'd they fall; for, who surviv'd to mourn?
And sires and mothers unlamented burn:
Parents and sons sustain an equal fate,

And wandering ghosts their kindred shadows meet.
The dead a larger space of ground require,
Nor are the trees sufficient for the fire.

Despairing under grief's oppressive weight,
And sunk by these tempestuous blasts of fate,
'O Jove!' said I, if common fame says true,
If e'er Ægina gave those joys to you;
If e'er you lay inclos'd in her embrace,
Fond of her charms, and eager to possess ;
O father! if you do not yet disclaim
Paternal care, nor yet disown the name;
Grant my petitions, and with speed restore
My subjects numerous as they were before;
Or make me partner of the fate they bore.'
I spoke, and glorious lightning shone around,
And rattling thunder gave a prosperous sound;
'So let it be, and may these omens prove
A pledge,' said I, ' of your returning love!'

By chance a reverend oak was near the place,
Sacred to Jove, and of Dodona's race;
Where frugal ants laid up their winter meat,
Whose little bodies bear a mighty weight;
We saw them march along and hide their store,
And much admir'd their number and their pow'r;
Admir'd at first, but after envied more.

Full of amazement, thus to Jove I pray'd,
"O grant, since thus my subjects are decay'd,
As many subjects to supply the dead!'

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I pray'd, and strange convulsions mov'd the oak, Which murmur'd, though by ambient winds unshook :

My trembling hands, and stiff-erected hair,
Express'd all tokens of uncommon fear;

Yet both the earth and sacred oak I kiss'd,
And scarce could hope, yet still I hop'd the best;
For wretches, whatsoe'er the fates divine,
Expound all omens to their own design.

But now 'twas night, when ev'n distraction wears
A pleasing look, and dreams beguile our cares,
Lo! the same oak appears before my eyes,
Nor alter'd in his shape, nor former size;
As many ants the numerous branches bear,
The same their labour, and their frugal care;
The branches too alike commotion found,
And shook the' industrious creatures on the ground,
Who, by degrees, (what's scarce to be believ'd)
A nobler form, and larger bulk receiv'd;
And on the earth walk'd an unusual pace,
With manly strides and an erected face;
Their numerous legs and former colour lost,
The insects could a human figure boast.

I wake, and waking find my cares again,
And to the unperforming gods complain;
And call their promise and pretences vain.
Yet in my court I heard the murmuring voice
Of strangers, and a mix'd uncommon noise;
But I suspected all was still a dream,
Till Telamon to my apartment came,

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Opening the door with an impetuous haste, 'O come,' said he,' and see your faith and hopes surpass'd.'

I follow, and, confus'd with wonder, view

Those shapes which my presaging slumbers drew :
I saw, and own'd, and call'd them subjects; they
Confess'd my power, submissive to my sway.
To Jove, restorer of my race decay'd,
My vows were first with due oblations paid.
I then divide with an impartial hand
My empty city, and my ruin'd land,

To give the new-born youth an equal share,
And call them Myrmidons, from what they were.
You saw their persons, and they still retain
The thrift of ants, though now transform'd to men.
A frugal people, and inur'd to sweat,

Labouring to gain, and keeping what they get.
These, equal both in strength and years, shall join
Their willing aid, and follow your design,
With the first southern gale that shall present
To fill your sails, and favour your intent.

CONTINUED BY TATE.

With such discourse they entertain the day; The evening pass'd in banquets, sport, and play : Then, having crown'd the night with sweet repose, Aurora (with the wind at east) arose. Now Pallas' sons to Cephalus resort, And Cephalus with Pallas' sons to court, To the king's levee; him, sleep's silken chain, And pleasing dreams, beyond his hour detain But then the princes of the blood in state Expect, and meet 'em at the palace-gate.

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