And “Why so turbulent of soul? (he cries;)

Can these lean shrivell’d limbs, unnerved with age,

These poor but honest rags, enkindle rage?

In crowds, we wear the badge of hungry fate:

And beg, degraded from superior state!

Constrain’d a rent-charge on the rich I live;

Reduced to crave the good I once could give:

A palace, wealth, and slaves, I late possess’d,

And all that makes the great be call’d the bless’d:

My gate, an emblem of my open soul,

Embraced the poor, and dealt a bounteous dole.

Scorn not the sad reverse, injurious maid!

’Tis Jove’s high will, and be his will obey’d!

Nor think thyself exempt: that rosy prime

Must share the general doom of withering time:

To some new channel soon the changeful tide

Of royal grace the offended queen may guide;

And her loved lord unplume thy towering pride.

Or, were he dead, ’tis wisdom to beware:

Sweet blooms the prince beneath Apollo’s care;

Your deeds with quick impartial eye surveys,

Potent to punish what he cannot praise.”


Her keen reproach had reach’d the sovereign’s ear:

“Loquacious insolent! (she cries,) forbear;

To thee the purpose of my soul I told;

Venial discourse, unblamed, with him to hold;

The storied labours of my wandering lord,

To soothe my grief he haply may record:

Yet him, my guest, thy venom’d rage hath stung;

Thy head shall pay the forfeit of thy tongue!

But thou on whom my palace cares depend,

Eurynome, regard the stranger-friend:

A seat, soft spread with furry spoils, prepare;

Due-distant for us both to speak, and hear.”


The menial fair obeys with duteous haste:

A seat adorn’d with furry spoils she placed:

Due-distant for discourse the hero sate;

When thus the sovereign from her chair of state:


“Reveal, obsequious to my first demand,

Thy name, thy lineage, and thy natal land.”


He thus: “O queen! whose far-resounding fame

Is bounded only by the starry frame,

Consummate pattern of imperial sway,