And thro’ the wound his floating spirits glide.

But when the shepherd saw the foe was slain,

Careless he turn’d, and sought his seat again;

For still his mind the dregs of slumber seal’d.

Nor half his danger to his thoughts reveal’d.

Now tardy Vesper comes o’er Oeta’s height;

And hard behind appear the steeds of night.

His flock collected, home the shepherd bears

His weary limbs, and now for rest prepares;

Reclin’d at ease, his languid members lay,

And gentle slumber held her grateful sway;

When, lo! his sight the gnat’s pale form assails,

And mournful thus his cruel death bewails:

Hard is my lot! ungrateful swain, declare,

By what desert, these cruel bonds I wear!

You I preserv’d, from you my sorrows flow.

And thus rewarded to the shades I go.

At ease you lie, nor dream of dangers o’er;

Me the sad Manes drag to Lethe’s shore,

Vile Charon’s prey. In realms of sad despair,

Mark how yon torches shed their frightful glare!

Now the fierce keeper, with his hideous yell,

Salutes my entrance at the gates of hell;

His form new horror from it’s snakes acquires,

And from his eyes flash vivid light’ning’s fires.

See too! the fury lifts her serpent hair,

Hurls round her flames, and shakes her scourge in air!

’Twas mine your life from instant fate to save,

Ah! how proportion’d the reward you gave!

For deeds like this shall no fair meed remain?

Has justice fled? shall faith forsake the plain?

Careless of self, for you my life I paid;

Shall no sad rites appease an injured shade?

If grateful blood still flows in shepherd’s veins,

Let some small tribute grace my poor remains.

In unknown paths, with wilder’d steps I rove,

Along the mazes of the Stygian grove:

Here countless hosts of gloomy souls appear,

And ev’ry shade receives it’s sentence here.

Here, bound with serpents, tow’ring Othos stands,

Gazing in grief on Ephialtes’ bands;

Compeers in strength, of old these giants hurl’d

Their flaming brands, to burn the mighty world.

Here too, Titania, Tityus owns thy pow’r,

Whom, chain’d for ages, hungry birds devour.

Confounded at the sight, my steps I stay,

And now in terror seek my former way,

Back to the Stygian waves: here, doom’d in Hell,

To feel a thirst he sees the means to quell,

Sad Tantalus remains; condemn’d by Jove,

For stealing nectar from the starry grove.

Why name the wretch, who scorn’d the gods’ control,

And now condemn’d a stone’s vast weight to roll,

Ceaseless complains? Here too those daughters stand;

Whom fierce Erinnis gave her vengeful brand,

Whose wond’rous pow’r impell’d these impious brides

To quench young Hymen’s torch in purple tides.

Full black the crime! yet fair as day, compar’d

With those fell deeds, that shameless Colchis dar’d