XXXVIII.
When you consult the oracle, or those
Who the deep secrets of the gods disclose,
Who fill'd with a divine, prophetic rage,
The will of heav'n, and its decrees presage,
'Tis plain, the dark event you cannot tell,
Else why do you consult the oracle?
But if you're a philosopher, you know
Thus much at least of it before you go;
That if of things not in our pow'r, th' event
Must be infallibly indifferent,
Nor good, nor bad. When therefore you draw nigh
The hallow'd cavern of the deity,
The will, and the decrees of fate to inquire,
Approach without aversion, or desire;
Else to the sacred vault you'll trembling come,
Like men who are arraign'd, to hear their doom:
And know, that whatsoe'er the fates ordain,
From thence, at least, this benefit you gain.
That, rightly using this or that decree,
You make a virtue of necessity;
And what this benefit doth most inhance,
'Tis such as will admit no hinderance.
Therefore with courage to the gods repair,
To whom you freely may your doubts declare,
As to your friends in whom you most confide,
Whose prudence and integrity you've try'd;
And what they bid you do, let it be done
With the most prudent care, rememb'ring whom
You chose for counsellours, whom you neglect,
If their advice you slight or disrespect.
Nor must you ev'ry little doubt propose
To their divinities, but such as those,
Which, as wise Socrates was wont to say,
Are very dark, abstruse; and out o'th'way;
Such as are clear'd by their events alone,
Which by no human methods can be shown.
You must not such light queries here propound,
Which every man of common sense may found:
As whether med'cines can restore the dead,
Or hellebore can purge a madman's head;
No riddles here in which old wives delight,
With which those aged sphynxes pass the night;
Nor such a knot as easily's unty'd,
Nor questions which by sieve and sheers are try'd:
But something difficult, and much involv'd,
Fit only by a god to be resolv'd.
Therefore when reason says you're bound to oppose,
Though hazarding your life, your country's foes,
And with heroic danger to defend
Him you think worthy to be call'd your friend,
What need of heav'nly information here,
Of prophet, augur, or astrologer?
Nothing but falshood, or base cowardice,
Can make a scruple of a case like this,
Since reason hath determin'd long ago,
Whether you ought to expose yourself or no.
Nay, let's suppose that you're resolv'd to try
This dubious weighty point by augury,
And that by some unlucky omen's meant
Death, or the loss of limbs, or banishment;
Yet should these mischiefs really ensue,
Which by foreboding signs do threaten you,
In spight of exile, wounds, nay death, you must
Be to your friend, and to your country just;
And reason still commands you to redress
The one in danger, th' other in distress.
Remember how that miscreant was us'd,
Who this kind office to his friend refus'd,
By the just oracle, who drove away
Th' ungrateful wretch and thus was heard to say:
"Be gone, thou base deserter of thy friend!
They presence doth our deity offend.
Thou saw'st the murd'rer give the fatal wound,
Thou saw'st thy friend lie welt'ring on the ground;
Without concern thou didst behold him bleed,
And not relieving, did'st approve the deed.
Depart, for thou, even thou, thy friend hast slain;
Hence, thou abandon'd wretch, thou dost our shrine prophane."
Who the deep secrets of the gods disclose,
Who fill'd with a divine, prophetic rage,
The will of heav'n, and its decrees presage,
'Tis plain, the dark event you cannot tell,
Else why do you consult the oracle?
But if you're a philosopher, you know
Thus much at least of it before you go;
That if of things not in our pow'r, th' event
Must be infallibly indifferent,
Nor good, nor bad. When therefore you draw nigh
The hallow'd cavern of the deity,
The will, and the decrees of fate to inquire,
Approach without aversion, or desire;
Else to the sacred vault you'll trembling come,
Like men who are arraign'd, to hear their doom:
And know, that whatsoe'er the fates ordain,
From thence, at least, this benefit you gain.
That, rightly using this or that decree,
You make a virtue of necessity;
And what this benefit doth most inhance,
'Tis such as will admit no hinderance.
Therefore with courage to the gods repair,
To whom you freely may your doubts declare,
As to your friends in whom you most confide,
Whose prudence and integrity you've try'd;
And what they bid you do, let it be done
With the most prudent care, rememb'ring whom
You chose for counsellours, whom you neglect,
If their advice you slight or disrespect.
Nor must you ev'ry little doubt propose
To their divinities, but such as those,
Which, as wise Socrates was wont to say,
Are very dark, abstruse; and out o'th'way;
Such as are clear'd by their events alone,
Which by no human methods can be shown.
You must not such light queries here propound,
Which every man of common sense may found:
As whether med'cines can restore the dead,
Or hellebore can purge a madman's head;
No riddles here in which old wives delight,
With which those aged sphynxes pass the night;
Nor such a knot as easily's unty'd,
Nor questions which by sieve and sheers are try'd:
But something difficult, and much involv'd,
Fit only by a god to be resolv'd.
Therefore when reason says you're bound to oppose,
Though hazarding your life, your country's foes,
And with heroic danger to defend
Him you think worthy to be call'd your friend,
What need of heav'nly information here,
Of prophet, augur, or astrologer?
Nothing but falshood, or base cowardice,
Can make a scruple of a case like this,
Since reason hath determin'd long ago,
Whether you ought to expose yourself or no.
Nay, let's suppose that you're resolv'd to try
This dubious weighty point by augury,
And that by some unlucky omen's meant
Death, or the loss of limbs, or banishment;
Yet should these mischiefs really ensue,
Which by foreboding signs do threaten you,
In spight of exile, wounds, nay death, you must
Be to your friend, and to your country just;
And reason still commands you to redress
The one in danger, th' other in distress.
Remember how that miscreant was us'd,
Who this kind office to his friend refus'd,
By the just oracle, who drove away
Th' ungrateful wretch and thus was heard to say:
"Be gone, thou base deserter of thy friend!
They presence doth our deity offend.
Thou saw'st the murd'rer give the fatal wound,
Thou saw'st thy friend lie welt'ring on the ground;
Without concern thou didst behold him bleed,
And not relieving, did'st approve the deed.
Depart, for thou, even thou, thy friend hast slain;
Hence, thou abandon'd wretch, thou dost our shrine prophane."
No comments:
Post a Comment