FROM LUCRETIUS.

FROM LUCRETIUS.

sæpius olimReligio peperit scelerosa.—Lib. I. v. 83.

sæpius olimReligio peperit scelerosa.—Lib. I. v. 83.

sæpius olimReligio peperit scelerosa.—Lib. I. v. 83.

sæpius olim

Religio peperit scelerosa.—Lib. I. v. 83.

Yet Superstition has of old brought forthMore impious wickedness; witness that timeIn Aulis, when at Dian’s temple metTh’ associate Princes, Chiefs, the prime of Greece,And stain’d her altar with the virgin bloodOf Iphigenia: o’er her youthful locksThey bound the fillets; on her cheeks she feltThe dress of sacrifice: but when she sawBeside the altar her dear father standIn sorrow, and for his sake the ministersHiding their knife, and all the assembly roundWeeping at sight of her; when this she saw,Struck mute with terror, on her knees she sunk.Ah! then in vain she called upon her king,Her father, urged him by a parent’s loveTo save his wretched child; while ruthless handsBore her all trembling to the altar’s base;Not for her nuptials, not for holy ritesOf Hymen, tended on with dance and song;But for a foul and bloody sacrifice.So fell this chaste and tearful victim, slainEv’n in her marriage hour; and all to freeTheir wind-bound Navy from the fancied letOf adverse Deities, to such a guiltCould Superstition prompt a father’s heart.

Yet Superstition has of old brought forthMore impious wickedness; witness that timeIn Aulis, when at Dian’s temple metTh’ associate Princes, Chiefs, the prime of Greece,And stain’d her altar with the virgin bloodOf Iphigenia: o’er her youthful locksThey bound the fillets; on her cheeks she feltThe dress of sacrifice: but when she sawBeside the altar her dear father standIn sorrow, and for his sake the ministersHiding their knife, and all the assembly roundWeeping at sight of her; when this she saw,Struck mute with terror, on her knees she sunk.Ah! then in vain she called upon her king,Her father, urged him by a parent’s loveTo save his wretched child; while ruthless handsBore her all trembling to the altar’s base;Not for her nuptials, not for holy ritesOf Hymen, tended on with dance and song;But for a foul and bloody sacrifice.So fell this chaste and tearful victim, slainEv’n in her marriage hour; and all to freeTheir wind-bound Navy from the fancied letOf adverse Deities, to such a guiltCould Superstition prompt a father’s heart.

Yet Superstition has of old brought forthMore impious wickedness; witness that timeIn Aulis, when at Dian’s temple metTh’ associate Princes, Chiefs, the prime of Greece,And stain’d her altar with the virgin bloodOf Iphigenia: o’er her youthful locksThey bound the fillets; on her cheeks she feltThe dress of sacrifice: but when she sawBeside the altar her dear father standIn sorrow, and for his sake the ministersHiding their knife, and all the assembly roundWeeping at sight of her; when this she saw,Struck mute with terror, on her knees she sunk.Ah! then in vain she called upon her king,Her father, urged him by a parent’s loveTo save his wretched child; while ruthless handsBore her all trembling to the altar’s base;Not for her nuptials, not for holy ritesOf Hymen, tended on with dance and song;But for a foul and bloody sacrifice.So fell this chaste and tearful victim, slainEv’n in her marriage hour; and all to freeTheir wind-bound Navy from the fancied letOf adverse Deities, to such a guiltCould Superstition prompt a father’s heart.

Yet Superstition has of old brought forth

More impious wickedness; witness that time

In Aulis, when at Dian’s temple met

Th’ associate Princes, Chiefs, the prime of Greece,

And stain’d her altar with the virgin blood

Of Iphigenia: o’er her youthful locks

They bound the fillets; on her cheeks she felt

The dress of sacrifice: but when she saw

Beside the altar her dear father stand

In sorrow, and for his sake the ministers

Hiding their knife, and all the assembly round

Weeping at sight of her; when this she saw,

Struck mute with terror, on her knees she sunk.

Ah! then in vain she called upon her king,

Her father, urged him by a parent’s love

To save his wretched child; while ruthless hands

Bore her all trembling to the altar’s base;

Not for her nuptials, not for holy rites

Of Hymen, tended on with dance and song;

But for a foul and bloody sacrifice.

So fell this chaste and tearful victim, slain

Ev’n in her marriage hour; and all to free

Their wind-bound Navy from the fancied let

Of adverse Deities, to such a guilt

Could Superstition prompt a father’s heart.


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