ARGUMENT.

THE Chorus, in the following Ode, lament the fate, and applaud the generosity, of Alcestis, who had consented

to die, in order to procure immortality for her husband Admetus, King of Pheræ.

EURIP. ALC. 447.

FAREWELL to thee! mid Pluto's halls,
Where never garish sunbeam falls,
Still, if my prayers are answered, blest,
Daughter of Pelias, sweetly rest!
And let the God of raven hair
Own thee the brightest spirit there;
Let him, the aged pilot, learn,
Who, seated in his shallop's stern,
The pale ghosts, thronging in his bark,
Ferries o'er Acheron's waters dark,
Bride half so true his skiff before
Ne'er wafted to the sable shore.

Thy praise shall swell to mountain shell,
And dirges due thy virtues tell;
Thy name inspire the minstrel choir,
The music of the seven-stringed lyre,
At Sparta, when the circling year
Brings round the gay Carneian cheer,

Beneath the moon's unwearied light,
That gladdens through the live-long night;
At Athens, where each radiant tower
Sparkles with Fortune's golden dower;
So meet a theme for minstrel's dream
The story of thy death shall seem.
Oh! might I break the fatal chain,
That links thee to that dim domain,
And woo thee back to light again!
Did no Cocytus interpose,

Did Hell's tall portals e'er unclose,
How swiftly should my oar be plied
O'er that dark river's troublous tide;
For thou hast been the truest bride
That time hath ever known:

No other wife

Her husband's life

Hath ransomed with her own.

Light let them lay the turf above thee,
And if in death he cease to love thee,
If e'er he gaze on other charms,
Or press another in his arms;

His children's hate and mine shall be

Meed of his infidelity.

No mother's love endured the grave,
Her child from yawning fate to save,
No father bore his doom;

Though grey their locks, and death drew nigh,
For him they proffered not to die;

EURIP. ALC.

But thou, in life's enchanting spring,
When all thy charms were blossoming,

Hast sought, for him, the tomb.

Be mine a bride as fond, as true,
Then might I bid life's cares adieu;
But scarce on mortal lot may shine
The blessing of a love like thine.

183