Next that each separate element might hold
Appropriate habitants,—the vault of heaven,
Bright constellations and the gods receiv'd.
To glittering fish allotted were the waves:
To earth fierce brutes:—to agitated air,
Light-plumag'd birds. A being more divine,
Of soul exalted more, and form'd to rule
The rest was wanting. Then he finish'd MAN!
Or by the world's creator, power supreme,
Form'd from an heavenly seed; or new-shap'd earth
Late from celestial ether torn, and still
Congenial warmth retaining, moisten'd felt,
Prometheus' fire, and moulded took the form
Of him all-potent. Others earth behold
Pronely;—to man a face erect was given.
The heavens he bade him view, and raise his eyes
High to the stars. Thus earth of late so rude,
So shapeless, man, till now unknown, became.

First sprung the age of gold. Unforc'd by laws
Strict rectitude and faith, spontaneous then
Mankind inspir'd. No judge vindictive frown'd;
Unknown alike were punishment and fear:
No strict decrees on brazen plates were seen;
Nor suppliant crowd, with trembling limbs low bent,
Before their judges bow'd. Unknown was law,
Yet safe were all. Unhewn from native hills,
The pine-tree knew the seas not, nor had view'd
Regions unknown, for man not yet had search'd
Shores distant from his own. The towns ungirt
By trenches deep, laid open to the plain;
Nor brazen trump, nor bended horn were seen,
Helmet, nor sword; but conscious and secure,
Unaw'd by arms the nations tranquil slept.
The teeming earth by barrows yet unras'd,
By ploughs unwounded, plenteous pour'd her stores.
Content with food unforc'd, man pluck'd with ease
Young strawberries from the mountains; cornels red;
The thorny bramble's fruit; and acorns shook
From Jove's wide-spreading tree. Spring ever smil'd;
And placid Zephyr foster'd with his breeze
The flowers unsown, which everlasting bloom'd.
Untill'd the land its welcome produce gave,
And unmanur'd its hoary crop renew'd.
Here streams of milk, there streams of nectar flow'd;
And from the ilex, drop by drop distill'd,
The yellow honey fell. But, Saturn down
To dusky Tartarus banish'd, all the world
By Jove was govern'd. Then a silver age
Succeeded; by the golden far excell'd;—
Itself surpassing far the age of brass.
The ancient durance of perpetual spring
He shorten'd, and in seasons four the year
Divided:—Winter, summer, lessen'd spring,
And various temper'd autumn first were known.
Then first the air with parching fervor dry,
Glow'd hot;—then ice congeal'd by piercing winds
Hung pendent;—houses then first shelter'd man;
Houses by caverns form'd, with thick shrubs fenc'd,
And boughs entwin'd with osiers. Then the grain
Of Ceres first in lengthen'd furrows lay;
And oxen groan'd beneath the weighty yoke.
Third after these a brazen race succeeds,
More stern in soul, and more in furious war
Delighting;—still to wicked deeds averse.
The last from stubborn iron took its name;—
And now rush'd in upon the wretched race
All impious villainies: Truth, faith, and shame,
Fled far; while enter'd fraud, and force, and craft,
And plotting, with detested avarice.
To winds scarce known the seaman boldly loos'd
His sails, and ships which long on lofty hills
Had rested, bounded o'er the unsearch'd waves.
The cautious measurer now with spacious line
Mark'd out the land, in common once to all;
Free as the sun-beams, or the lucid air.
Nor would the fruits and aliments suffice,
The rich earth from her surface threw, but deep
Within her womb they digg'd, and thence display'd,
Riches, of crimes the prompter, hid far deep
Close by the Stygian shades. Now murderous steel,
And gold more murderous enter'd into day:
Weapon'd with each, war sallied forth and shook
With bloody grasp his loud-resounding arms.
Now man by rapine lives;—friend fears his host;
And sire-in-law his son;—e'en brethren's love
Is rarely seen: wives plot their husbands' death;
And husbands theirs design: step-mothers fierce
The lurid poisons mix: th' impatient son
Enquires the limits of his father's years:—
Piety lies neglected; and Astræa,
Last of celestial deities on earth,
Ascends, and leaves the sanguine-moisten'd land.

Nor high-rais'd heaven was more than earth secure.
Giants, 'tis said, with mad ambition strove
To seize the heavenly throne, and mountains pile
On mountains till the loftiest stars they touch'd.
But with his darted bolt all-powerful Jove,
Olympus shatter'd, and from Pelion's top
Dash'd Ossa. There with huge unwieldy bulk
Oppress'd, their dreadful corses lay, and soak'd
Their parent earth with blood; their parent earth
The warm blood vivify'd, and caus'd assume
An human form,—a monumental type
Of fierce progenitors. Heaven they despise,
Violent, of slaughter greedy; and their race

From blood deriv'd, betray.
Saturnian Jove

Loud murmurs fill the skies—swift vengeance all
With eager voice demand. When impious hands
With Cæsar's blood th' immortal fame of Rome,
Rag'd to extinguish—all the world aghast,
With horror shook, and trembled through its frame.
Nor was thy subjects' loyalty to thee
More sweet, Augustus, than was theirs to Jove.
His hand and voice, to still their noise he rais'd:
Their clamors loud were hush'd, all silence kept;
When thus the thunderer ends his angry tale:
“Dismiss your care, his punishment is o'er;
“But hear his crimes, and hear his well-earn'd fate.
“Of human vice the fame had reach'd mine ear,
“With hop'd exaggeration; gliding down,
“From proud Olympus' brow, I veil'd the god,
“And rov'd the world in human form around.
“'Twere long to tell what turpitude I saw
“On every side, for rumor far fell short,
“Of what I witness'd. Through the dusky woods
“Of Mænalus I pass'd, where savage lurk
“Fierce monsters; o'er the cold Lycean hill,
“With pine-trees waving; and Cyllené's height.
“Thence to th' Arcadian monarch's roof I came,
“As dusky twilight drew on sable night.
“Gave signs a god approach'd. The people crowd
“In adoration: but Lycaön turns
“Their reverence and piety to scorn.
“Then said,—not hard the task to ascertain,
“If god or mortal, by unerring test:
“And plots to slay me when oppress'd with sleep.
“Such proof his soul well suited. Impious more,
“An hostage from Molossus sent he slew;
“His palpitating members part he boil'd,
“And o'er the glowing embers roasted part:
“These on the board he serves. My vengeful flames
“Consume his roof;—for his deserts, o'erwhelm
“His household gods. Lycaön trembling fled
“And gain'd the silent country; loud he howl'd,
“And strove in vain to speak; his ravenous mouth
“Still thirsts for slaughter; on the harmless flocks
“His fury rages, as it wont on man:
“Blood glads him still; his vest is shaggy hair;
“His arms sink down to legs; a wolf he stands.
“Yet former traits his visage still retains;
“Grey still his hair; and cruel still his look;
“His eyes still glisten; savage all his form.
“Thus one house perish'd, but not one alone
“The fate deserves. Wherever earth extends,
“The fierce Erinnys reigns; men seem conspir'd
“In impious bond to sin; and all shall feel
“The scourge they merit: fixt is my decree.”

Part loud applaud his words, and feed his rage;
The rest assent in silence; yet to all,
Man's loss seems grievous; anxious all enquire
What form shall earth of him depriv'd assume?
Who then shall incense to their altars bring?
And if those rich and fertile lands he means
A spoil for beasts ferocious? Their despair
He bade them banish, and in him confide
For what the future needed; held them forth
The promise of a race unlike the first;
Originating from a wonderous stock.

And now his lightenings were already shot,
And earth in flames, but that a fire so vast,
He fear'd might reach Olympus, and consume
The heavenly axis. Also call'd to mind
What fate had doom'd, that all in future times
By fire should perish, earth, and sea, and heaven;
And all th' unwieldy fabric of the world
Should waste to nought. The Cyclops' labor'd bolts
Aside he laid. A different vengeance now,
To drench with rains from every part of heaven,
And whelm mankind beneath the rising waves,
Pleas'd more th' immortal. Straightway close he pent
The dry north-east, and every blast to showers
Adverse, in caves Æolian, and unbarr'd
The cell of Notus. Notus rushes forth
On pinions dropping rain; his horrid face
A pitchy cloud conceals; pregnant with showers
His beard; and waters from his grey hairs flow:
Mists on his forehead sit; in dews dissolv'd
His arms and bosom, seem to melt away.
With broad hands seizing on the pendent clouds
He press'd them—with a mighty crash they burst,
And thick and constant floods from heaven pour down.
Iris meantime, in various robe array'd,
Collects the waters and supplies the clouds.
Prostrate the harvest lies, the tiller's hopes
Turn to despair. The labors of an year,
A long, long year, without their fruit are spent.
Nor Jove's own heaven his anger could suffice,
His brother brings him his auxiliar waves.
He calls the rivers,—at their monarch's call
His roof they enter, and in brief he speaks:
“Few words we need, pour each his utmost strength,
“The cause demands it; ope' your fountains wide,
“Sweep every mound before you, and let gush
“Your furious waters with unshorten'd reins.”
He bids—the watery gods retire,—break up
Their narrow springs, and furious tow'rd the main
Their waters roll: himself his trident rears
And smites the earth; earth trembles at the stroke,
Yawns wide her bosom, and upon the land
A flood disgorges. Wide outspread the streams
Rush o'er the open fields;—uproot the trees;
Sweep harvests, flocks, and men;—nor houses stood;
Nor household gods, asylums hereto safe.
Where strong-built edifice its walls oppos'd
Unlevell'd in the ruin, high above
Its roof the billows mounted, and its towers
Totter'd, beneath the watery gulf oppress'd.
Nor land nor sea their ancient bounds maintain'd,
For all around was sea, sea without shore.
This seeks a mountain's top, that gains a skiff,
And plies his oars where late he plough'd the plains.
O'er fields of corn one sails, or 'bove the roofs
Of towns immerg'd;—another in the elm
Seizes th' intangled fish. Perchance in meads
The anchor oft is thrown, and oft the keel
Tears the subjacent vine-tree. Where were wont
The nimble goats to crop the tender grass
Unwieldy sea-calves roll. The Nereid nymphs,
With wonder, groves, and palaces, and towns,
Beneath the waves behold. By dolphins now
The woods are tenanted, who furious smite
The boughs, and shake the strong oak by their blows.
Swims with the flock the wolf; and swept along,
Tigers and tawny lions strive in vain.
Now not his thundering strength avails the boar;
Nor, borne away, the fleet stag's slender limbs:
And land, long sought in vain, to rest her feet,
The wandering bird draws in her weary wings,
And drops into the waves, whose uncheck'd roll
The hills have drown'd; and with un'custom'd surge
Foam on the mountain tops. Of man the most
They swallow'd; whom their fierce irruption spar'd,
By hunger perish'd in their bleak retreat.

Between th' Aönian and Actæian lands
Lies Phocis; fruitful were the Phocian fields
While fields they were, but now o'erwhelm'd, they form
A region only of the wide-spread main.
Here stands Parnassus with his forked top,
Above the clouds high-towering to the stars.
To this Deucalion with his consort driven
O'er ridgy billows in his bark clung close;
For all was sea beside. There bend they down;
The nymphs, and mountain gods adore, and she
Predicting Themis, then oraculous deem'd.
No man more upright than himself had liv'd;
Than Pyrrha none more pious heaven had seen.

Now Jove beheld a mighty lake expand
Where late was earth, and from the swarming crowds
But one man sav'd—of woman only one:
Both guiltless,—pious both. He chas'd the clouds
And bade the dry north-east to drive the showers
Far distant, and display the earth to heaven,
And unto earth the skies. The ocean's rage
Remains no more. Mild Neptune lays aside
His three-fork'd weapon, and his surges smoothes;
Then calls blue Triton from the dark profound.
Above the waves the god his shoulders rears,
With inbred purple ting'd: He bids him sound
His shelly trump, and back the billows call;
And rivers to their banks again remand.
The trump he seizes,—broad above it wreath'd
From narrow base;—the trump whose piercing blast
From east to west resounds through every shore.
This to his mouth the watery-bearded god
Applies, and breathes within the stern command.
All hear the sound, or waves of earth or sea,
And all who hear obey. Sea finds a shore;
Floods flow within their channels; rivers sink;
Hills lift their heads; and as the waves decrease,
In numerous islets solid earth appears.
A tedious time elaps'd, and now the woods
Display'd their leafless summits, and their boughs
Heavy with mud. At length the world restor'd
Deucalion saw, but empty all and void;
Deep silence reigning through th' expansive waste:
Tears gush'd while thus his Pyrrha he address'd:
“O sister! wife! O woman sole preserv'd!—
“By nature, kindred, and the marriage-bed,
“To me most closely join'd. Now nearer still
“By mutual perils. We, of all the earth
“Beheld by Sol in his diurnal course,
“We two alone remain. The mighty deep
“Entombs the rest. Nor sure our safety yet;
“Still hang the clouds dark louring. Wretched wife,
“What if preserv'd alone? What hadst thou done
“Of me bereft? How singly borne the shock?
“Where found condolement in thy load of grief?
“For me,—and trust, my dearest wife, my words,—
“Hadst thou amidst the billows been ingulph'd,
“Me also had they swallow'd. Oh! for power
“To form mankind, as once my father did,
“And in the shapen earth true souls infuse!
“In us rests human race, so will the gods,
“A sample only of mankind we live.”
He spoke and Pyrrha's tears join'd his. To heaven
They raise their hands in prayer, and straight resolve
To ask through oracles divine its aid.
Nor long delay. Quick to Cephisus' streams
They hasten; muddy still Cephisus flows,
Yet not beyond its wonted boundaries swol'n.
Libations thence they lift, and o'er their heads
And garments cast the sprinklings;—then their steps
To Themis' temple bend. The roof they found
With filthy moss o'ergrown;—the altars cold.
Prone on the steps they fell, and trembling kiss'd
The gelid stones, and thus preferr'd their words:
“If righteous prayers can move the heavenly mind,
“And soften harsh resolves, and soothe the rage
“Of great immortals, say, O Themis, say,
“How to the world mankind shall be restor'd;
“And grant, most merciful, in our distress
“Thy potent aid.” The goddess heard their words,
And instant gave reply. “The temple leave,
“Ungird your garments, veil your heads, and throw
“Behind your backs your mighty mother's bones.”
Astonish'd long they stood! and Pyrrha first
The silence broke; the oracle's behest
Refusing to obey; and earnest pray'd,
With trembling tongue for pardon for her sin:
Her mother's shade to violate she dreads,
Her bones thus rudely flinging. But meantime
Deep in their minds, in dark mysterious veil
Obscurely hid, the sentence they revolve.
At length Deucalion sooths his wife with words
Of cheering import: “Right, if I divine,
“No impious deed the deity desires:
“Earth is our mighty mother, and her bones
“The stony rocks within her;—these behind
“Our backs to cast, the oracle commands.”
With joy th' auspicious augury she hears,
But joy with doubt commingled, both so much
The heavenly words distrust; yet still they hope
The essay cannot harm. The temple left,
Their heads they cover, and their vests unbind;
And o'er their heads as order'd heave the stones.
The stones—(incredible! unless the fact
Tradition sanction'd doubtless) straight began
To lose their rugged firmness,—and anon,
To soften,—and when soft a form assume.
Next as they grew in size, they felt infus'd
A nature mild,—their form resembled man!
But incorrectly: marble so appears,
Rough hewn to form a statue, ere the hand
Completes the shape. What liquid was, and moist,
With earthy atoms mixt, soft flesh became;
Parts solid and unbending chang'd to bone;
In name unalter'd, veins the same remain'd.
Thus by the gods' beneficent decree,
And brief the change, the stones Deucalion threw,
A manly shape assum'd; but females sprung
From those by Pyrrha cast behind; and hence
A patient, hard, laborious race we prove,
And shew the source, by actions, whence we sprung.

Beings all else the teeming earth produc'd
Spontaneous. Heated by the solar rays,
The stagnant water quicken'd;—marshy fens
Swell'd up their oozy loads to meet the beams:
And nourish'd by earth's vivifying soil,
The fruitful elements of life increas'd,
As in a mother's womb; and in a while
Assum'd a certain shape. So when the floods
Of seven-mouth'd Nile desert the moisten'd fields,
And to their ancient channels bring their streams,
The soft mud fries beneath the scorching sun;
And midst the fresh-turn'd earth unnumber'd forms
The tiller finds: some scarcely half conceiv'd;
Imperfect some, their bodies wanting limbs:
And oft he beings sees with parts alive,
The rest a clod of earth: for where with heat
Due moisture kindly mixes, life will spring:
From these in concord all things are produc'd.
Though fire with water strives; yet vapour warm,
Discordant mixture, gives a birth to all.