Est procul ab urbe lucus illicibus niger
     Dircaea circa vallis irriguae loca. 
     Cupressus altis exerens silvis caput
     Virente semper alligat trunco nemus;
     Curvosque tendit quercus et putres situ
     Annosa ramos:  hujus abrupit latus
     Edax vetustas:  illa jam fessa cadens
     Radice, fulta pendet aliena trabe. 
     Amara baccas laurus; et tiliae leves
     Et Paphia myrtus; et per immensum mare
     Motura remos alnus; et Phoebo obvia
     Enode Zephyris pinus opponens latus. 
     Medio stat ingens arbor, atque umbra gravi
     Silvas minores urget; et magno ambitu
     Diffusa ramos, una defendit nemus. 
     Tristis sub illa, lucis et Phoebi inscius
     Restagnat humor, frigore aeterno rigens. 
     Limosa pigrum circuit fontem palus. 
                                   Actus Tertius.  Scena prima.

This diffuse account of the different kinds of forest trees, which composed the enchanted grove, is very inartificially put into the mouth of Creon, who, notwithstanding the horrible message which he has to deliver to OEdipus from the ghost, finds time to solace the king with this long description of a place, which he doubtless knew as well as Creon himself.  Dryden, on the contrary, has, with great address, rendered the description necessary, by the violence committed within the sacred precinct, and turned it, not upon minute and rhetorical detail, but upon the general awful properties of this consecrated ground.  Lucan’s fine description of the Massyllian forest, and that of the enchanted grove in Tasso, have been both consulted by our author.]

9.  The quarrel betwixt OEdipus and the prophet, who announces his
   guilt, is imitated from a similar scene in the OEdipus Tyrannus.

10.  Borrowed from Shakespeare;

     And lean-looked prophets whisper fearful change.
                                   Richard II.

EPILOGUE.

  What Sophocles could undertake alone,
  Our poets found a work for more than one;
  And therefore two lay tugging at the piece,
  With all their force, to draw the ponderous mass from Greece;
  A weight that bent even Seneca’s strong muse,
  And which Corneille’s shoulders did refuse. 
  So hard it is the Athenian harp to string! 
  So much two consuls yield to one just king. 
  Terror and pity this whole poem sway;
  The mightiest machines that can mount a play. 
  How heavy will those vulgar souls be found,
  Whom two such engines cannot move from ground! 
  When Greece and Rome have smiled upon this birth,
  You can but damn for one poor spot of earth;
  And when your children find your judgment such,
  They’ll scorn their sires, and wish themselves born Dutch;
  Each haughty poet will infer with ease,
  How much his wit must under-write to please.