Publisher's Synopsis
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1885 edition. Excerpt: ... DIPUS THE KING. dipus. O latest born of ancient Cadmus' race, My Theban children, with what suppliance Thus throng ye to my presence, bearing high The wands of prayer, the branches wound with wool? Rife too the city is with heavy reek Of victims slain, and rife with divers cries, The wail for healing and the moan for death. Not meet I held it, children of my realm, To know thro' lips of messengers alone Tales of your suffering. Behold me here, Great dipus, the rumour of the world. But thou, old man, say on--thou standest forth In speech to champion these that here are met-- What are ye set to seek? unto your fear What aid, or to your love what grace to crave? Right fain am I to help; yea, stern I were, And ruthless, if I recked not of such prayer. The Priest. Hear now, O king and lord of this my land: Thou seest, dipus, how to thy shrines We throng, a crowd of ages manifold. Some faltering yet on childhood's strengthless wing, Some bowed with venerable years, who serve The shrines of gods, as I of Zeus; and some Are chosen blossoms of youth's mateless flowers. And otherwhere, with crowned wands, as we, Sit other suppliants, where the marts are wide, Or by the shrines of Pallas' twofold fanes, Or by Ismenus' fires of augury. For, as thyself art witness, all too deep Wallows the city in the surge of woe, And scarce bears up her overlaboured bows From gulfs of foam incarnadined with death-- Wasting in every bud that teemed with growth, Wasting in every herd that roamed the field, And every child that quickened in the womb, The while, death's torch within his hand, the God Swoops down to rack with fellest plague the land. Void by his hand lies Cadmus' ancient hall, While the dark realm of hell is rich, full-fed..."