Page:Statius (Mozley 1928) v1.djvu/427

Unabashed he stood on the threshold of Cirrha’s temple, and with these words gives fierce utterance to his sacred rage: ‘Not sent by any, nor suppliant, O Thymbraean,^[1] do I approach thy shrine: duty and consciousness of right have turned my steps this way. I am he, O Phoebus, who laid low thy deadly scourge, I am he whom thou, ruthless one, dost seek out by poison-cloud, and the light of day defiled, and the black corruption of a baleful heaven. But even if raging monsters be so dear to the gods above, and the destruction of men a cheaper loss to the world, and heaven be so stern and pitiless, in what have the Argives sinned? My life, my life alone, most righteous of the gods, should be offered to the fates! Or is it more soothing to thy heart that thou seest homesteads desolate, and the countryside lit up by the burning roofs of husbandmen? But why by speaking do I delay the weapons of thy might? our mothers are waiting, and the last prayers for me are being uttered. Enough: I have deserved that thou should’st be merciless. Bring then thy quiver, and stretch thy sounding bow, and send a noble soul to death! but, even while I die, dispel the gathered mist that from on high hangs pallid over Inachian Argos.’

Equity hath regard for the deserving. Awe of slaughter took hold on Leto’s fiery son, and yielding he grants the hero the sad boon of life; the deadly clouds fly scattering from our heaven, while thou, thy prayer heard, departest from marvelling Phoebus’ door. Thenceforward do we in solemn banquet yearly renew the appointed sacrifice, and placate the