Part II

Them when th’ abyss had cover’d from the skies,
Lo! the fourth age on nurturing earth arise:
Jove form’d the race a better, juster line;
A race of heroes and of stamp divine:
Lights of the age that rose before our own;
As demi-gods o’er earth’s wide regions known.
Yet these dread battle hurried to their end:
Some where the seven-fold gates of Thebes ascend:
The Cadmian realm: where they with fatal might
Strove for the flocks of Œdipus in fight.
Some war in navies led to Troy’s far shore;
O’er the great space of sea their course they bore;
For sake of Helen with the beauteous hair:
And death for Helen’ sake o’erwhelm’d them there.
Them on earth’s utmost verge the god assign’d
A life, a seat, distinct from human kind:
Beside the deepening whirlpools of the main,
In those blest isles where Saturn holds his reign,
Apart from heaven’s immortals: calm they share
A rest unsullied by the clouds of care:
And yearly thrice with sweet luxuriance crown’d
Springs the ripe harvest from the teeming ground.

Oh would that Nature had denied me birth
Midst this fifth race; this iron age of earth:
That long before within the grave I lay,
Or long hereafter could behold the day!
Corrupt the race, with toils and griefs opprest,
Nor day nor night can yield a pause of rest.
Still do the gods a weight of care bestow,
Though still some good is mingled with the woe.
Jove on this race of many-languaged man,
Speeds the swift ruin which but slow began:
For scarcely spring they to the light of day
Ere age untimely strews their temples gray.
No fathers in the sons their features trace:
The sons reflect no more the father’s face:
The host with kindness greets his guest no more,
And friends and brethren love not as of yore.
Reckless of heaven’s revenge, the sons behold
The hoary parents wax too swiftly old:
And impious point the keen dishonouring tongue
With hard reproofs and bitter mockeries hung:
Nor grateful in declining age repay
The nurturing fondness of their better day.
Now man’s right hand is law: for spoil they wait,
And lay their mutual cities desolate:
Unhonour’d he, by whom his oath is fear’d,
Nor are the good beloved, the just revered.
With favour graced the evil-doer stands,
Nor curbs with shame nor equity his hands:
With crooked slanders wounds the virtuous man,
And stamps with perjury what hate began.
Lo! ill-rejoicing Envy, wing’d with lies,
Scattering calumnious rumours as she flies,
The steps of miserable men pursue
With haggard aspect, blasting to the view.
Till those fair forms in snowy raiment bright
Leave the broad earth and heaven-ward soar from sight:
Justice and Modesty from mortals driven,
Rise to th’ immortal family of heaven:
Dread sorrows to forsaken man remain;
No cure of ills: no remedy of pain.
Now unto kings I frame the fabling song,
However wisdom unto kings belong.
A stooping hawk, crook-talon’d, from the vale
Bore in his pounce a neck-streak’d nightingale,
And snatch’d among the clouds: beneath the stroke
This piteous shriek’d, and that imperious spoke:
“Wretch! why these screams? a stronger holds thee now:
Where’er I shape my course a captive thou,
Maugre thy song, must company my way:
I rend my banquet or I loose my prey.
Senseless is he who dares with power contend:
Defeat, rebuke, despair shall be his end.”

The swift hawk spake, with wings spread wide in air;
But thou to justice cleave, and wrong forbear.
Wrong, if he yield to its abhorr’d controul,
Shall pierce like iron in the poor man’s soul:
Wrong weighs the rich man’s conscience to the dust,
When his foot stumbles on the way unjust:
Far diff’rent is the path; a path of light,
That guides the feet to equitable right.
The end of righteousness, enduring long,
Exceeds the short prosperity of wrong.
The fool by suffering his experience buys;
The penalty of folly makes him wise.

With crooked judgments, lo! the oath’s dread God
Avenging runs, and tracks them where they trod:
Rough are the ways of Justice as the sea;
Dragg’d to and fro by men’s corrupt decree:
Bribe-pamper’d men! whose hands perverting draw
The right aside, and warp the wrested law.
Though, while corruption on their sentence waits,
They thrust pale Justice from their haughty gates;
Invisible their steps the virgin treads,
And musters evils o’er their sinful heads.
She with the dark of air her form arrays
And walks in awful grief the city-ways:
Her wail is heard, her tear upbraiding falls
O’er their stain’d manners, their devoted walls.

But they who never from the right have stray’d,
Who as the citizen the stranger aid;
They and their cities flourish: genial Peace
Dwells in their borders, and their youth increase:
Nor Jove, whose radiant eyes behold afar,
Hangs forth in heaven the signs of grievous war.
Nor scathe nor famine on the righteous prey;
Feasts, strewn by earth, employ their easy day:
Rich are their mountain oaks: the topmost trees
With clustering acorns full, the trunks with hiving bees.
Burthen’d with fleece their panting flocks: the race
Of woman soft reflects the father’s face:
Still flourish they, nor tempt with ships the main;
The fruits of earth are pour’d from every plain.

But o’er the wicked race, to whom belong
The thought of evil, and the deed of wrong,
Saturnian Jove of wide-beholding eyes
Bids the dark signs of retribution rise:
And oft the crimes of one destructive fall:
The crimes of one are visited on all.
The god sends down his angry plagues from high,
Famine and pestilence: in heaps they die.
He smites with barrenness the marriage-bed,
And generations moulder with the dead:
Again in vengeance of his wrath he falls
On their great hosts, and breaks their tottering walls:
Arrests their navies on the ocean’s plain,
And whelms their strength with mountains of the main.

Ponder, oh judges! in your inmost thought
The retribution by his vengeance wrought.
Invisible, the gods are ever nigh,
Pass through the midst, and bend th’ all-seeing eye:
The men who grind the poor, who wrest the right,
Awless of heaven’s revenge, stand naked to their sight.
For thrice ten thousand holy demons rove
This breathing world, the delegates of Jove.
Guardians of man, their glance alike surveys
The upright judgments and th’ unrighteous ways.
A virgin pure is Justice: and her birth,
August, from him who rules the heavens and earth:
A creature glorious to the gods on high,
Whose mansion is yon everlasting sky.
Driven by despiteful wrong she takes her seat
In lowly grief at Jove’s eternal feet.
There of the soul unjust her plaints ascend:
So rue the nations when their kings offend:
When uttering wiles and brooding thoughts of ill,
They bend the laws and wrest them to their will.
Oh gorged with gold! ye kingly judges hear!
Make straight your paths: your crooked judgments fear:
That the foul record may no more be seen,
Erased, forgotten, as it ne’er had been!

He wounds himself that aims another’s wound:
His evil counsels on himself rebound.
Jove at his awful pleasure looks from high
With all-discerning and all-knowing eye;
Nor hidden from its ken what injured right
Within the city-walls eludes the light.
Or oh! if evil wait the righteous deed,
If thus the wicked gain the righteous meed,
Then may not I, nor yet my son remain
In this our generation just in vain!
But sure my hope, not this doth Heaven approve,
Not this the work of thunder-darting Jove.

Deep let my words, oh Perses! graven be:
Hear Justice, and renounce th’ oppressor’s plea:
This law the wisdom of the god assign’d
To human race and to the bestial kind:
To birds of air and fishes of the wave,
And beasts of earth, devouring instinct gave
In them no justice lives: he bade be known
This better sense to reasoning man alone.
Who from the seat of judgment shall impart
The truths of knowledge utter’d from his heart;
On him the god of all-discerning eye
Pours down the treasures of felicity.
Who sins against the right, his wilful tongue
With perjuries of lying witness hung;
Lo! he is hurt beyond the hope of cure:
Dark is his race, nor shall his name endure.
Who fears his oath shall leave a name to shine
With brightening lustre through his latest line.