Page:The Works of Alexander Pope (1717).djvu/345

These sons, ye Gods! who with flagitious pride,
Insult my darkness, and my groans deride.
Art thou a father, unregarding Jove!
And sleeps thy thunder in the realms above?
Thou Fury, then, some lading curse entail,
Which o'er their childrens children shall prevail:
Place on their heads that crown distain'd with gore,
Which these dire hands from my slain father tore;
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$Go, and a parent's heavy curses bear;
Break all the bonds of nature, and prepare
Their kindred souls to mutual hate and war.
Give them to dare, what I might wish to see,
Blind as I am, some glorious villany!
Soon shalt thou find, if thou but arm their hands,
Their ready guilt preventing thy commands:
Could'st thou some great, proportion'd mischief frame,
They'd prove the father from whose loins they came.
The fury heard, while on Cocytus' brink
Her snakes, unty'd, sulphureous waters drink;

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