Page:Statius (Mozley 1928) v1.djvu/207

hither with fillets on thy hair and adorned with snow-white robe, as when still a present goddess, before the violence of sinful men had driven thee away, thou didst dwell among innocent folk in a reign of gold; come to these quiet obsequies, and look upon the duteous tears of sorrowing Etruscus, and brush them from his eyes with words of praise. For who that saw him bursting his heart with unsatisfied lament and embracing the pyre and bending o’er the ashes would not think that it was a young wife whose death he mourned, or a son whose face just growing into manhood the flames were devouring? But it is a father whom he weeps. Come, gods and men, to the holy rites. Begone, begone, ye wicked, all in whose hearts is a crime unspoken, any who deems his aged sire has lived too long, or, conscious of ever having struck his mother, fears the urn of unbending Aeacus in the world below: ’tis the pure and guiltless I invite. Lo! gently in his arms he holds the aged face and lets his tears bedew the sacred white hairs of his sire, and lovingly gathers the last cold breath; marvellous, yet true! a son is thinking that his father’s life is swiftly flown, that the black Sisters have brought the end too soon. Exult, ye placid ghosts by the streams of Lethe, rejoice, Elysian abodes! enwreathe the shrines, and let festal altars gladden the pale groves. ’Tis a happy shade that is coming, ay, too happy, for his son laments him. Avaunt, ye hissing Furies, avaunt the threefold guardian^[1]! let the long road lie clear for peerless spirits. Let him come, and approach the awful throne of the silent monarch and pay his last due of gratitude and anxiously request for his son as long a life.