Page:The Works of Alexander Pope (1717).djvu/362

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The FIRST BOOK of
That drives the dead to dark Tartarean coasts,
Or back to life compels the wondring ghosts.
Thus, thro' the parting clouds, the son of May
Wings on the whistling winds his rapid way,
Now smoothly steers thro' air his equal flight,
Now springs aloft, and tow'rs th' ethereal height,
Then wheeling down the steep of heav'n he flies,
And draws a radiant circle o'er the skies.
Meantime the banish'd Polynices roves
(His Thebes abandon'd) thro' th' Aonian groves,
While future realms his wandring thoughts delight,
His daily vision, and his dream by night;
Forbidden Thebes appears before his eye,
From whence he sees his absent brother fly,
With transport views the airy rule his own,
And swells on an imaginary throne.
Fain would he cast a tedious age away,
And live out all in one triumphant day.
He chides the lazy progress of the sun,
And bids the year with swifter motion run.

With