/ J{l^(^.JZ^ / ^>; ftJi.AK-/> f. t,Lt THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES \ V ' c O d.^^^^^^-^-'^'^'^'^'''^ t-l 'v^'--"> ^'^'^■' .'_ POETRY AND CRITICISM, By OUTIS. Ant insanit lumio, ant vt-rsus facit. HORACR. OvK apa rrji' K€(paKi)v iix^, Toiavra ypaepCDf. Anthol. PRIVATELY PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY BRADBURY AND EVANS, WHITEFRIARS. 1850. LONDON : HRAUBtfRY AND EVANS, PRINTKIIS, WH ITE FR I AR S. T' O-S r o A VOICE mOM ST. HELENA. 1840. - — ♦ ' Mais vous venez, helas ! quand mon heure est finie, Vouz avez mis vingt ans pour venir jusqu' i moi, Vous, qu'en vingt jours, au plus, mon rapide g^nie Entrainait aux deux bouts de I'Europe en emoi ! " Let me rest^ let me rest on my lone granite pillow, Too late is tliis pledge how ye love or adore ; Your frigates too late, o'er tlie dark-rolling billow, Seek the dust of the warrior, whose banner they bore ! In the conflict of death, when the Lion all gory Bore me down, 'twas the season yourEmp'ror to save; 861907 6 A VOICE FROM ST. HELENA. ' Twas yet time, ere the slow-setting sun of mj glory For ever had sunk in this far southern wave ! Some spark of your fires e'en my ashes had kindled. Less late had ye waked to your tardy decree ; Those ashes might yet have been worthily mingled With the time-honoured dust in youi- old St. Denis. But no !— tlu'ough the vaults of that hoar mausoleum, I'or the soldier of fortune no requiems ring ; His ashes profaning the solemn Te Demn, As it peard for the reign of some Bourbonist king ! A loftier pile is this wave-begirt mountain, Than that ye intend me — youi- Hospital's Dome ; * Twice ten years, by the side of my favourite fountain. Has the grass grown and withered, that covers my tomb. Away, then, away ! — Let your vessels, returning, ]jeave me (ix'd as the rocks on tliis desolate shore ; ' Ia'S Iiiviilitlcs. A VOICE FROM ST. HELENA. 7 Here uo more the vain fire of ambition is bui-uiiig — Oil ! grant to these bones the repose they implore ! * * Napoleon's Confessor, an amiable old Italian priest, who was fellow passenger with OiVif, homeward bound in 1821, repeated some Latin verses, which he had indited on St. Helena, beginning thus • — ^Equoris in medio, prKruptis ambita saxis. Insula St. Helense nomine parva jacet ; Truncato similis cono, convallibus imis Secta, et dumosis sentibus hirta riget, &c. •y- THE FATE OE THE MAMELUKES. " To horse ! — through the desert our trumpets are blomng. The swords of our squadrons in sun-hght are glowiug ; The slaves of Stamboul their proud Sultan may brook, P>ut prouder 's the soid of the bold Mameluke ! " The sun of the zenith hath lent us his lire, Given warmth to our friendship — but heat to our ire ; And deep is the stain on each good scimitar, When we burst on the fo(^ like a floud from afar ! THE FATE OF THE MAMELUKES. 9 " Away to the battle ! — our hosts who would tell^ Might number the sands of the desert as well ; Like the floods of the Nile when they break o'er its bed. Resistless we pour where our squadrons are led. " The dogs of the desert impatiently call For the cowards that lurk in the rear of yon waU, And pale on his neighbour each dastard shall look. When he hears the war-cry of the wild Mameluke ! " Alas ! for the brave ! — The fell Pacha lias spoken, And the slave of the Sultan liis plighted word broken ; And the wile of th'' assassin unwortliily slain The heroes, whom valour encountered in vain. There 's a gloom over all, that infests not the hoiu'. When the Moslem is red with the blood of the Giaour ; For 'twas not to such deeds that the Prophet hath given The guerdons of earth, or the glories of heaven ! ANNINGAIT AND AJUT A * O'er Greenland's hills, and billow-beaten shores. The flood of day returning sninmer pours ; Beams from the sea's bright verge the stranger Sun, Round the blue heaven his spiral coui-se to run ; Still as more high his glorious disk he rears. Through the deep gloom each hoary clifl^ appears, l^ill, from the mountain's steep and snow-clad height. In one vast blaze streams back the vivid light ! Bursts from its wintry chains the ice-bound hill, Tlu'ough sudden verdure creeps the loosen'd rill ; * See Johnson's Rambler, Nos. 186, 187. ANNINGAIT AND AJUT. 11 Old Oceaii^s self next feels tlie potent vay, And sees his glassy islands melt away ; — ■ No more his sui'ges beUow round the shore. No more his ice-bergs crash, liis tempests roar ; Bleak night and frost suspend their iron reign, And nature beams with radiant smiles again. In yon deep bay, where, stain''d with lichen o'er, The rugged cM' impends the sloping shore ; Wliere ghstening shells bespread the golden sand, And the green wave comes softly to the land — Her dark locks falling o'er her shoulders fair. What white-robed goddess seems to linger there ? — Yet the fast sorrows of that streaming eye. And that pale visage, mark mortality, LFnless the bitterest griefs to mortals given Can e'er molest th' inhabitants of heaven. On fallen fragment of a rock reclined. Her mantle floating in th' inconstant wind. With anxious look she marks, and tearful gaze, Wliere round yon cape the restless billow plays — 12 ANNINGAIT AND AJUT. Nor gazes long — to her expectant view Springs through the surf that rower's swift canoe ; And now lie turns the rocky point — and now The sea-foam dashes o'er his heaving prow ; One look he gives — 'tis she ! — with eager hand He plies his oar — he leaps upon the sand ! u >r 'Tis come at last, and I must hence away — (The fav'ring breezes chide e'en this delay) — Yes, Ajut, yes ! — and I must leave awhile Home's warm retreat, and love's entrancing smile ; How oft yon sun shall circle round the sky Ere I again these well-known cliffs descry. Or troops of joyous friends, with nuptial state. And festal cheer, to grace our union wait ! Fast as the leaves, of short-lived summer burn, riy youtliful days, and never more return ; Frail as the snow beneath the solvent ray. Strength melts apace, and beauty fades away ; And then a few more summer suns — a few More winter nights, and life is vanish'd too ! ANNINGAIT AND AJUT. 13 Ere yet on thee I fondly gazed, or e'er Those accents tluillM upon my listening ear — Ere yet thou taught' st this youthful heart to burn. Oh, with what joy I hail'd the sun's return ! Who then so prompt as I, with skilful care, To build the boat, or bearded shafts prepare ; Tlu'ough the rough waves to chase the flying seal. Or pierce the tusky walrus with my steel. Or mount the dying whale's yet heaving side. While, warm with life, he lash'd the bloody tide ? — But whither wend I ? — still such strife shall charm, And thou shalt nerve afresh this practised arm ; Again in savage blood my spear I '11 steep. And urge in fight the monsters of the deep ; Eor Ajut's love exchange the tliirst of fame, The motive different, but the deeds the same. Then, when long months have heap'd my winter store, Swift as the gale I '11 seek this happy shore ; To Ajut's arms bound o'er the wat'ry way. And at her feet the votive treasures lay !" 14 ANNINGAIT AND A.TUT. " All, Anningait ! — and is it thus you quell The fearful griefs that in this bosom dwell ? — Of dangers talk, and touch the very theme That blasts each hope, and poisons every dream ?— How oft I 've seen the spirit of the storm Whelm thy frail boat, and wreck thy mangled form ; Or lurking demons crouch beneath the wave. To snatch tliee, breathless, to theii' ocean cave ! I 've heard expire, in one soul-rending groan. That voice, that Love had taught liis tenderest tone, And curst my sex, and curst th^ inhuman care, That still forbade with thee each fate to share ! Far to the south (^tis fabled) regions lie. Where sun and moon alternate rule the sky ; Where, round the year, the happy natives taste The bliss of home, nor roam the stormy waste — Oh, we had 'scaped this moment's cliill des])aii-, Had Heaven in mercy fix'd our portion there ! " " Scorn all their marvels, love — nor envy we Gifts, which (if tru(;) we ne'er were doom'd to see ; ANNINGAIT AND A JUT. 15 Let southern climes their fruits or flowers display, That bloom or ripen in the blaze of day ; Our's be the home beneath the mountain's breast, With plenty crownM — with love and Ajut blest. There, when the sun's red orb shall southward roll, And night returns, and winter shrouds the pole ; There, when by tempests torn, or demons riven, Down from its height the avalanche is driven ; When one pale desert meets the cheerless eye. And one wide storm rebellows through the sky — With softest moss those tender hands shall spread. And with the warmest furs bedeck, our bed ; There dazzling lamps, with never-fadhig ray, Shall hglit our home, and rival summer's day ; There shall the heaps, that bled beneath my spear. Enrich the board wliich love and friendship cheer : By thee adorn'd with sweetest notes, the wliile, Our fleeting night tradition's songs beguile— Such joys ne'er bless, such genial home ne'er warms, Th' enervate wretch that shrinks before our storms : 16 ANNINGAIT AND AJUT. Unknown to him the sweetly varied good That charms our life with blest vicissitude ! He never tastes the winter^s listless ease. Round the long year Ids labours never cease ; And thougli diui'nal suns his skies adorn, With lovelier radiance beams our Boreal morn ! — But lo, yon crowded barks my lingering chide — One last, long kiss, — adieu, my love, my bride \" Thou, who hast felt the parting pang, canst teU The all that 's center^ in that last farewell ; The mingled tide of hope and fear, the tlnong Of words, that die upon the faihng tongue ; Th^ unutterM grief, that, finding language weak. But melts the eye, or changes on the cheek — Yes, thou hast felt affliction's sternest power. Thou knoVst the sorrows of the parting hour ! Home Ajut liies, to weep her lonesome fate. Home wends the maid, deserted, desolate ! ANNINGAIT AND AJUT. 17 Nought heeded she each aid that love coukl lend. The tender parent, or the caref al friend ; Still o'er her sleep, in dreams prophetic, stole Each waking fear that racked her boding soul ; Wliere should she seek a respite — whence supply The balm to sootlie her mental agony ? Deep in the hollows of a rocky cave, Whose moss-grown front the dripping streamlets lave. And dark-green pines more solemn shadows lend. As, half uprooted, o'er the cliff they bend. There dwelt a Seer, whose fame had spread around, Por prophecy and prescient skill renown' d ; Him Ajut sought, nor seeking did she fail In gifts, which help the future to unveil. Far in the cavern's twilight shades she view'd That aged man, in calm and thoughtful mood ; With sightless orbs, and beard of snowy dye. The blind Tiresias of that northern sky ! Awe-struck she stood, with parted lips and pale. Mysterious fears her beating heart assail ; 18 ANNINGAIT AND AJUT, The sage^ with gentle voice and mien^ desires To know who seeks him, or his aid requires ? — Thus reassured, the maiden dared to brave Tlie sleeping echoes of that fearful cave ; In accents brief and broken she exprest The doubtful dread that agitates her breast, And sought liis skill to lighten or remove The gloomy mists which part her from her love. " Versed as I am to pierce with mental eye The close-di-awn curtains of futurity, Yet, Ajut, here less certain lights are given. To penetrate the will of sovereign Heaven. — Dire are the perils of the treacherous deep, Fierce the loud storms wliich o'er its surface sweep ; Yet oh, wliilc hopes on fortune still attend, Wliy should superfluous fears thy bosom rend ? — Bethink thee of the thousand dangers past. Each triumph more transcendant than the last ; Bethink thee of the guardian gods that wait From lurking fates to shield tliy Anningait : ANNINGAIT AND A.IUT. 19 Let then no dreads no needless dread remain — Hope, maiden, hope — expect his bark again ! " Weeks pass, then months — the sun with sinking sweep Circles the heaven — then dips beneath the deep ; AAd surest tokens in that darkening sky Proclaim to all the night of winter nigh. Home, one by one, the shattered barks repair, Another comes — nor Anningait is there ! Who now shall cabn poor Ajut^s just alarm, What Seer persuade her lover ^s safe from harm ? At length is seen, slow moving to the shore. The bark which him and liis companions bore ; " For this, om- laden craft, he scorn' d to stay ; Impetuous Anningait brooked no delay — Long since he quitted us, and homeward flew, Swift as the sea-bird, in liis own canoe." The juggling prophet's riddle is reveal' d — The hapless lover's fate too surely seal'd ; 20 ANNINGAIT AND A JUT. tSuccessive floods have cast upon the strand The very skiff in which he sought the land ; And he, so late in youth and manhood^s pride. Must float a corse upon the heaving tide ! One night she listen' d until all was still. Then sought the haven underneath the hill ; A skiff she entered — paddled from the shore, Left country, kindred, friends, for evermore ! Vain is the search her frighted parents keep. Sad the lone hours tlu'ough wliich they wake and weep ; Faint and more faint hope's last illusions burn. For Ajut 's parted — never to return ! PROLOGUE roil A COLONIAL THEATRE, WITH THE COMEDY OF THE RIVALS. In merry England once — in youth^s bright day, "What soul so duU, hut own^d the Drama^s sway ; But caught a spark from Ealstaff^s jovial cheer, Or wept for pity at the griefs of Leae ; And as each note of mii'th or pathos fell, "With breast responsive echo'd back the spell ! E'en here, methinks, self-exiled as we pine In barb'rous climes, too near the burning Line,* Sill) currii luiuiuiu propiinnii Solis. 22 PROLOGUE FOR A COLONIAL THEATRE. As rolls each joyless year, and bears away Some frail memorial of Hfe's younger clay ; As fades each cherish' d trace,, to memory dear, Of all that charmM us in youth^s glad career, And, with each fading trace, grows rigid too The feehng sense, that might that trace renew — The Drama's power may vindicate its reign. And wake our torpid souls to feel again ! This night, through comic scenes om- actors wing Their flight experimental ; promising. Should your applause the infant essay crown. To loftier aims they '11 rise, when bolder grown ; Though, let the theme be sad or merry, still Rivals they all must be — for your good will ! Then — should the laughing Muse successfid yield To her grave sister this adveutm'ous field. Within these walls may yet, some day, be heard The magic sorrows of our mighty Bard — PROLOGUE FOR A COLONIAL THEATRE. 23 Here may the fiend Othello's bosom rend ; Here patriot Brutus immolate liis friend ; In midnight blood Macbeth his dagger steep, Wild Hamlet rave, or hapless Juliet weep ! Oh, radiate thus our Drama's sacred light On realms, beyond the Roman eagle's flight ; Spread far and wide the humanising strain. And add one wreath to Shakspeare's hallow'd fane ! GREECE IN 1827. StilLj by barbaric rage assaiFd in vain, Rears its fair front Athena's marble fane ; Still on its rock, with pediment sublime, That solid structure blunts the scythe of Time ; Though the robb^l frieze, of sculptui-ed metope bare. Proclaims the hand of rapine has been there ; Though glares the marble in its stainless snow. Where shatter'd triglyphs mark the recent blow. GREECE IN 1827. 25 And many a glittering- fragment, strewM around, AVith Phidian relics heaps the cumbered ground ! How towers supreme that glorious ruin still. The queen of temples on her classic hiE ! All- wasting Time, though twice-ten ages past, Reserved such prey, his brightest and liis last. That freedom^s hght, retui'u'd, again might pour A sacred lustre on its latest hour ! See genius haunt these sliores, deserted long. And Byron perish for the land of Song ; See Navarino crush the Moslem^s pride. And fate decree — what policy denied ! No more shall Hellas weep her cliildi-en^s fall. Her hearths blood-dyed, her daughters di-agg\l in tlu-aU ; Messene^s heights the signal fires* display. Till ocean reddens with the kindhng ray ; Swift through Arcadians vales the tidings fly — With shouts the cliffs of Argohs reply ; * In the " Agamemnon" of ^schylus, information of the capture of Troy is conveyed in a similar way to Argos; 258 — 288. 26 GREECE IN 1827. Last o^er iEgiua\s gulf tlie beacons gleam, And glad Piraeus hails the welcome beam ! Shade of Themistocles,* an hour like tliis Ne^er shone on Greece since thy own Salamis ; Wliat though the strangers' hands have burst her chain, Though Saxons, — Scythians, — Gauls, her freedom gain ? The struggle her's, albeit a foreign blow. Of giant might, hath laid her tyrants low. Her's was the tortured groan, the helpless sigh, To suffer her's — to strike, to bleed, to die ! SchooFd by her glorious sires, through many an age. The world restores th' entrusted heritage ! Hark, through her olive-groves her childi-en sing, 'Midst peopled vales resounding Pfcans ring : Though slow the march of mind, and late the day That wears oppression's moral taint away. * The Tomb of Themistocles, or at least tlic inoiiud on wliicli it stood, is visible at present in the Pir«iis, opposite to, and in view of, tbc Isle of Salamis, the scene of that hero's triumph. GREECE IN 1827. 27 Yet come it must^ the renovating liom'^ When freedom shall assert her wonted power ! Cities shall rise — reviving arts return To where Ilissus mom-ns liis wasted urn — Hellenic genius claim its ancient reign^ And Paros teem with marble births again ! TO A LADY WITH A WATCH. Oft as tlie silent-moving hands Around the figured dial wheels Amid the joys and cares of life. Oh ! may one thought thy brother steal. And when, beneath thy pillow'd head, This toy shall keep its midnight measure, Think that one heart as constant beats. To shield from iiarm its ehiefest treasure. TO A LADY WITH A WATCH. 29 As long, dear girl, as Heaven ordains Thy days and mine together flow, This hand shaU never cease to twine A wreath of jo}' to deck thy brow. And when the Fates their threads shall spin To that sad point where we must sever. Their doom, perhaps, may make me leave My sister — but forget her never ! 2000KAE0TE TINA. KPEHN. ere Sij, ere t^ijv vevovaav is ireSov ndpa, (pf/s, ^ Karapvii. /u.^ SeSpaKfi'ai rdSe ; ANTirONH. Kol (prjfil Spaffai kovk airapvovixai to fi.ij. KPEnN. av ij.il/ KoixiQus tiu aeavTov -p 6f\eis f^co ^apelas airias (\evdepov • l ^-//\ ^.h^MJf^WfWkr/ Jl 4 'Y •^ '1-^ (mvjmimimj^Vh ^ FRAGMENT FROM SOPHOCLES * CEEON. Say tliou, whose sullen gaze on earth is bent^ Didst thou the deed ? ANTIGONE. I did — and scorn disguise ! CREON. {To the Watch.) Begone! Thou'rt lightened of a load of guilt. * Antigone, the sister of Polynices, performs by steixltli tlie sacred rites over tlie body of her brotlier (forbidden by proclamation), and, being detected in tlie fact, the above dialogue ensues between her and Creon. 32 SO+OKAEOTS TINA. (rii S' 6(776 ^01 /J.^^ fxriKos, aWa avfTofia, ^Stj? to. KTipvxdfVTa fJLT) -Kpaaaeiv raSs ; ANTirONH. fj. Ti S' ovK ijXiWov ; ifxtpavi] yap ^f. KPEnN. Kol SriT iToAfxas rovaS^ vireplSaiveiv v6/j.ovs ANTirONH. ou yap ri fxoi Zews ^u 6 Ky]pvi,as rdSe oiiS' T) ^vvoiKOS tSiv Karoo Qiwv Alkti, o? TOvffS' eV avOpd-n-oiffiv iipiffav vS^-nvs • oi'/Se adeuetv rocrodrov (i}6fjLr\v ra era Krjpvyfiad' (Ixtt aypairra KacrcpaXii deuiv vifiiixa SwacrOat QvqTov ovS" {nrep3paue7v ' oh yap Ti vvv ye Kaxdes, aAA.' ad ttots ^fj ravTa, KovOfh oTSei' 6'| otov '(pdvT]. TovTwv eyui ovk (fxeXKov, av'5ph$ nvSevhi (ppdurifxa Sehaa', iv Oeo7(Ti r^^v Si'/crji' 5(iOKAEOT2 TINA. ■nap ov^fu aAyos • aAA.' ay, et tow e| f/uf7,s /LiriTpos davovr' aQainnv iax^f-'-V^ veKvv, Kfivois hu i]\yovu' ToTcrSe 5' ovk aAyvi'Of^ai. (Tol 5' €t SoKw vvv jxSipa Spaiua Tvyxdi'di', (TxeSSv Ti ficipy fxuplav cxpXicrKavui. X0P02. Sr]Ao7 TO yfvVTilx d:/j.hi> f| w/xov TraTpr)? ttJj TratSiit ■ (^Kdi/ 5' OVK iirlaTaTai KaKo7s. KPEnN. aAA' "laBi tol to. (TK\r,p' ayav (ppofrj/J-aTa TTiTTTeiv fj.a\i(TTa, Kal tov iyKpaTeaTUTov •riSrjpov oinhv €K irvpos TrfpicrweA'T; OpavaOfVTa Kal payevTa TrAeTfrT' ai' eLmhois. (T/xiKpu ;^aAii/(S 5' olda tovs 6v/xovilUvov^ 'iTTTrov; KaTapTvOefTas. ov yap eKTre'Aei (ppove7v fMey' octis ?iov\6s effTi toiv ireAai. avTT) S' v^pi^eiv fx\v tot e^7]TriaTaT0, v6fxovs vTrep^aivovaa tovs npoKfififyovs ' v$pis S\ eTrei SiSpuKev, "jSe S^vTepa, TOVTOis eTravx^^v, Ka] SeSpaKvlav yfAau. ^ vvv 4yu> fMiV OVK avi-jp, auTy 5' av^p, ei TaiiT' avuTel TtjSe Kiia^Tai KpaTi]. aAA' efr' o5eA(^7)y, ilB o/xai/xov^cnepas Tuv iravTos y^fxiv Zr]vus epKeiov Kvpt?, avTi) T€ X V ^wai/iios ovk aAv^fTov lx6pov KaKLffTov • Ka\ yap uOv Kiivr^v "icrov ftraiTiufxai TovSe ^ovAivcrai Tci(pov. FRAGMENT FE,OM SOPHOCLES. 'i5 But did my mother's son unlionoui'M lie, And wanting the last rites, had justly grieved ! Granted, that in thy view my deed appears Senseless, perchance my judge is not all- wise. CHORUS. This child of CEdipus doth lack no jot Of her stern father's constancy in ills. CREON. The stubborn' st spirit may sometimes be broken ; And native iron, harden'd into steel. Is soonest fractured. I have known proud necks Managed by slender reins ! This lofty style But ill befits her state. 'Twas guilt enough Once to transgress ; derision and defiance But aggravate transgression ! 'Twere to change Sexes with her — I girl, she king of Thebes — To yield to such presumption ! Not the birth She claims from my own sister, not a claim Nearer than this, should e'er avail to save Her and Ismene from the fate they merit ! (For sorely I suspect Ismene shared I) z 30 20OKAEOT2 TINA. Kai vtr KaAeir' • fdoj yap eiBov apriws Kvcrawaav ahr^iv, ov'S' i-KrifioKov ippefwv. (piAe7 5' 6 Ovfxhs TrpScrOev -^prjadai KAoTei/s Twv iXTjSev 6p9ws eV (TKdrtfi TeKvoo/uevcov. ixiaw 76 fXiVToi x&Tav iy KaKolai ris aXovs eTreiTa tovto KaKXvvnv BeAij. ANTirONH. 6(A€LS TL fiu^ov ^ KaraKTiivai /x tKuiv ; KPEflN. €70) /UfV ovSfv' rovr' exoov hma.vr' eX'*'- ANTirONH. Ti Stjto /ufWfLS ; dis e'^oi rwv (Twv x6yo}v apicnov ouSiv, ixr]5' apeadfiri Trore, ovTw 5e Kol ffo\ rau atpavScivova' i(pv. Ka'noi ■n-6dev K\fos y h.y iVKXeecrrepov Karfaxof fl t^v ahraZehtpov eV ratpui TiOucra ; tovtois tovto iramv a-v^aveif Keyon' &v, el /j.1] yXuiaffav eyK\eiaoL ^, (piXos. ANTirONH. oi/TOi avvfx^^"^' olAAo (jv^cpiXeiv i(pvv. KPEnN. KaTOi I'Sc eAOoCrr', 6( (pi\r]T(ov, (p'lKd K(-ii'ovi • (fxov 5e (ISj/tos ovk &p^ei ywrj. FRAGMENT FROM SOPHOCLES. 41 CREON. His country's enemy ; — th' other, its guardian. ANTIGONE, But the last funeral rites pertain to all. CREON. Not that the good and bad should fare alike. ANTIGONE. I We done what 's grateful to the gods below. CREON. An enemy, though dead, is still no fiiend. ANTIGONE. My nature tends to love, and not to hate. CREON. Down then to hell ! — love there ; but wliile I live No woman bears the sway. FEIENDSHIP " And what is Friendship but a name, -V cliarni that lulls to sleep, A shade that follows wealth and fame, But leaves the wretch to weej) ? " GOLDSMn II. Injuiuous Bard, the strain forego. If such the notes you sing ; Friendship to me is ' all below/ A sacred, precious thing ! Friendship in man the soul can warm, Its lugh descent to prove ; To woman lends her brightest cliarm, And takes the name of Love. AMERICAN BONDS. '■ It has been observed, that those who most loudly chimour tor liberty, do not most liberally grant it." Dr. .Toiinso.v. American Bonds are waste paper, I trow. Till American cretlit grows better ; iVnd the trustiest Yankee securities now Are the bonds which the " Nigger " enfetter. With the " Stars and the Stripes " of republican jiride He has little connexion, good lack ! Other stars he invokes to deliver his hide From the stripes which belabour lii.s back. 44 AMERICAN BONDS. Thus Liberty's boast, in the Yankee's repute, Is to load a black brother with chains ; Equality gives him the lot of a brute, Aucl Fraternity jests at his pains. Since Republics, when viewed in unprejudiced lights. Take more liberties, far, than they give. Here 's hurrah for the limited, well-balanced rights. Under wliich we old " Britishers " live ! r (Lerr^^ Note. — More than tw»Bty years ago, Sydney Smith wrote of the "great disgrace and danger of America — tlie existence of slavery, which, if not timely corrected, will one day entail (and ought to entail) a bloody servile war upon the Americans, which will sepai'ate America into Slave States and States disclaiming Slaveiy, and which remains at present as the foulest blot in the moral character of that people." What would he have said to their taking free men of colour out of foreign ships, and putting them in prison during the ship's stay in port ? '0. ^riixe, Ka\7]v y' e'xeix 'Apxhv, ore Travres cti^- QpoiTToi SeSi'ao"! ff', coo"- TTip audpa Tvpavvov. Aristophanes. HOUACE. Book I. 38. Persicos odi, puer, apparatus ; Displicent nexse philyra corona; : Mitte sectari, Rosa quo loconim Sera moretur. Simplici myrto nihil adlabores Sedulus, euro : neque te ministrum Dedecet myrtus, neque me sub arcta. Vite bibentem. BoY^ I detest the Persian treats^ In vain for me their garlands bloom. Search not where Roses lingering smile, Ere yet they meet their wintry doom ! To Papliian myrtles stint thy care, They ^11 best befit this flowing wine, They '11 best befit the Bard, reclined At ease beneath his arcliing vine. LJ Tn: In ^ 'ML FROM THE CHINESE. THE FRIEND'S COMPLAINT.* Now scarce is heard the zephyr's sigli^ To breathe along the narrow vale ; Now sudden bursts the storm on high. In mingled rush of rain and hail ; — While adverse fortune louring frowuM, Than ours no tie could closer be ; But lo ! when ease and joy were found, Spurn'd was I, ingrate, spm-nM by thee ! * Tlie originals of tliis, luid the l'i)llo\vinK piece, ivero coinpilcii b^' Confucius above 400 years before ClirLst, from .something still more ancient. THE friend's complaint. 47 Now scarce is felt the fanning air Along the valley^ s sloping side ; Now winds arise, and lightnings glare, Poiu's the fell storm its di'eadful tide ; — While fears and troubles closely prest, By thee my love was gladly sought. But once again with quiet blest. Thou view^st me as a tiling of nought ! The faitldess calm shall sliift again, Another gale the bleak hill rend, And every blade shall wither then. And every tree before it bend ; — Then shalt thou wail thy lonesome lot, Then vainly seek the injured man. Whose friendship thou hadst all forgot. And only learned his faults to scan. Note. — Above is a fac-simile of the private seal of Keying, a relation of the Emperor, and late Imperial Commissioner. THE STOLEN BRIDE. The nest yon winged artist builds. The robber bird shall tear away ; So yields her hopes th^ affianced maid, Some wealthy lord^s reluctant prey. The fluttering bu*d prepares a home, In wliicli the spoiler soon shall dwell ; Porth goes the weeping bride, constrained, A hundred cars the triumph swell. Mourn for the tiny architect, A stronger bird hath ta'en its nest ; Mourn for the hapless, stolen bride, How vain the pomp to soothe her breast ! * This has reference to the success of a rich and powerful suitor, who carries off the bride already contracted to a humbler rival. The "robber bird" (cuckoo?) is constantly alluded to as the emblem of unjust appropriation. FEETILE FIELDS. FROM THE CHINESE. Though man^s superfluous labour ceased to till The fertile glebe, ne^er would its bounties end ; Though rusting lay th' abandon^ ploughshare, stiU O'er the fair land would waving harvests bend. Less happy soils may pine in years of dearth ; Late though we sow, we early reap the field ; A thousand roods of richly teeming earth In weighty crops ten thousand measures yield. Wliy haunt we, then, the sylvan' s mossy slirine ? Why ask what fortune shall our toils attend ? See the sweet spring with sui'er presage shine. And balmy airs, and lengthening days, descend ! IN CAVERNAM UBI CAMOENS FERTUR OPUS EGREGIUM COMPOSUISSE. Hic, in remotis Sol ubi rupibus Frondes per altas mollius incidit^ Fervebat in pulcliram CamcEnam Ingenimn Camoentis ardens Signnm et poetse marmore lucido Spirabat olim, carminibus sacrum^, Parvumque_, quod vivens amavit^ Effigie decorabat antrum. IN CAVERN Air CAMOENTIS. 51 Sed jam vetustas, ant maniis impia Prostravit, eheu ! Triste silentium Regnare nunc solum videtur Per scopulos, virides et umbras ! At fama noljis restat, at inclytum Restat poetffi nomen, at iugeni Stat Carmen exemplum perenne, ^Erea nee monumenta quserit. Sic usque virtus vincit, ad ultimos Perducta fines temporis_, exitus Ridens sepulchrorumque inane, Marmoris ac celerem ruinam ! e2 EPIGRAMS. FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY. Mvv 'A(rK\rintdSr]s 6 (piKapyvpos ilSev eV oi'/cy, Kal Ti iroieTs, (p7](Tlv, cpiXrare jjlv Trap' ifxoi; 'H5u S" o /uDs jiXdaas, M-qZev, (p'lXe, (p7]al, (pofirjOrjs, Ovxl Tpocjnjs napd v \xidv), which seems to have been the Egy])tian pota- tion (naturally) from the abundance of grain, the staple production of the country. The play ends with the rejoicings of the Danaides at their safety. SOPHOCLES. SOPHOCLES. (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. CEdipus being king of Thebes, a severe pestilence afflicts the people, and the tragedy opens with Creon reporting, as the answer of the oracle, that no remis- sion of the plague could be hoped for, until the murderer of the late king Laius should have been banished. Tiresias, the blind prophet, being called in, confirms the report of the oracle, and leads to the suspicion that Oedipus lumself has, unconsciously, been the mrutlerer of liis father and the husband of his own mother. The play proceeds gradually, by the incontestable evidence brought forward, to remove all doubts upon the subject. Oedipus, in consequence, being seized with a fit of horror and despair, puts out liis own eyes, and Jocasta, his mother, liangs herself. The Chorus consists of Theban elders. 78 SOPHOCLES. (EDTPUS AT COLONOS. (Edipus retires in his blind condition to Colonos near Athens^ where there is a temple and grove dedicated to the Fnries. He is led by his daughter Antigone^ and Ismene liis other daughter joins them^ bringing intelligence of the treachery of his sons Eteocles and Polynices, and the approach of Creon^ to seize on their party and carry them prisoners to Thebes. A number of Athenian elders^ attracted to the spot^ constitute the Chorus^ and Theseus, king of Athens, being called tliither, takes compassion on CEdipus, and refuses to deliver him or his daughters to Creon. The play ends by CEdipus meeting liis death in a supernatural manner near the spot, according to the prediction of the oracle. ^¥lienever an opportunity occurs of flattering the Athenian audience, such as making them appear the protectors or the arbitrators of the other states of Greece, it may be observed that the tragedians natui'ally tiu'n the same to account. ANTIGONE. 79 ANTIGONE. After the death of Eteocles and PoljiiiceSj who fall by each other's hands, as we have it in ^schylus' " Seven against Thebes," Creon, their successor, gives the fu'st a formal biu'ial, but interdicts to liis brother Poljnices the performance of the funeral rites by any one under penalty of death, on the ground of liis having fought against his country. Antigone, the sister of Polynices, however, performs the sacred ceremonies by stealth over the body of her brother, and being detected, in a scene of which a translation has been attempted in the present volume,"^ is condemned (according to the terms of Creon's prohibition) to be buried ahve ; Creon's sou, Hsemon, who had been betrothed to Antigone, upon this kills liimself ; and his mother Eurydice, when she hears of his death, puts an end to her life also. The Chorus consists of Theban elders. ' Page 30. 80 SOPHOCLES. TRACHINIANS. Hercules being victor in the country of the Trachinians^ sends liome to Deianira bj Lichas his female captives^ among whom is lole^ of whom he had been enamoured. Deianira, having her jealousy roused, sends to Hercules by their son HyUus the tunic of the centaur Nessus, who had perfidiously told her, after being shot by Hercules with the fatal arrow, that it would restore to her the love of the latter whenever that should fail. Hercules uncon- sciously and unsuspectingly puts on the tunic wliile lie is sacrificing, and the poison with which it was imbued tluows liim into such tortures, that he hurls Lichas to a distance into the sea, and is afterwards brought forward on the stage, where he hears of the self-murder of Deianira, and being in dreadful agony prevails on his son HyUus to consume Mm on a funeral pile. The Chorus consists of Tracliinian virgins, whence the name; but it might, perhaps, have been more aptly styled the Death of Hercules. AJAX LORAUIUS. 81 AJAX LORARIUS. Ajax, in his contest witli Ulysses, being deprived of the armom- of Acliilles, runs mad, and in his frenzy attacks a flock of sheep. Tliis is so Ulce the exploit of Don Quixote, that it may be supposed Cervantes possibly derived the hint from the antique original, and the subject is better suited to the Spanish satire than the Greek tragedy. Ajax slays some of the flock, and takes an old ram prisoner, under the notion that it is liis enemy Ulysses. Tliis ram he occasionally flogs in gratification of his resentment, (whence " Flagellator," the title of the play,) and a confabulation ensues between Minerva and Ulysses on the outside of the tent. The Chorus consists of Salaminian sailors, who meet Tecmessa,^ Ajax's lady, and bewail the slaughter of the sheep. Ajax comes out to them from liis tent, and being gradually restored to a sense of his condition, takes an oppor- * Movit Ajacem, Telamone natum, Forma captivaj dominum Tecmessse.— Hor. 82 SOPHOCLES. tmiity to slay liimself. His brother Teucer succeeds in performing tlie funeral rites over the body, notwithstanding the proliibition of the Atridge ; but these at length yield to the intercession of Ulysses, in favour of liis deceased enemy. The great feature of this play is the strong Mght in wliich it places the superiority of wisdom over mere brute force, personi- fied as these are in Ulysses and Ajax. PHILOCTETES. 83 PHILOCTETES. Ulysses, and Neoptoleinus the son of Acliilles, having been sent from the Grecian army, then before Trov, to fetch from Lemnos the arrows of Hercules, in possession of PhHoctetes, land at that island, and open the tragedy, the sailors of Neoptolemus forming the Chorus. Ulysses, knowing the deserved hostihty of Pliiloctetes to himself, who had caused his exile in Lemnos, leaves Neoptolemus alone to prevail on him to deliver up the arms and accompany them to Troy on their return. A long dialogue follows, in wliich Philoctetes relates liis suiferings, and after once delivering up liis arms to Neoptolemus entreats liim to restore them, when he has heard the object of his visit to Lemnos with Ulysses. The latter then re-appears on the scene to prevent the restoration of the arms, and Pliiloctetes is with difficulty prevented from transfixing him with an arrow. The shade of G 2 84 SOPHOCLES. Hercules at length appears, and informs Pliiloctetes that he must go to Troy, where he will be cured of the wound in his foot, and become instrumental to the success of the siege. ELECTRA. 85 ELECTRA. The subject of tliis play is nearly the same as that of the Choephorse of J^^schylus^ namely, the revenge of Orestes on the murderers of his father. The scene opens at Argos, where Orestes is introduced to liis paternal city by the Tutor who has had charge of liis youth, and who opens the subject of the tragedy. They retu-e to mature their plans for the revenge of Agamemnon's death, and Electra then enters with the Chorus, consisting of Argive women, and laments her fate. Her sister Chrysothemis afterwards comes in and informs Electra of what her guilty mother and ^gisthus intend against her, upon wluch, Electra prevents Chrysothemis from carrying to their father^'s tomb some Kbations with which she had been charged by the unpious Clytsemnestra. The last-mentioned appears on the stage, and has a wordy contest with Electra, after wliich the tutor of Orestes enters with the pretended news of the death of Orestes in a 86 SOPHOCLES. chariot race. Electra tries to spirit up her sister to assist her in slaying ^gisthus, but in vain ; and then comes Orestes himself in disguise, bearing liis own pretended ashes in an urn. He at length discovers himself to liis sister, in a beautiful scene, and the play concludes by their fii'st slaying Clytsemnestra, and afterwards /Egisthus, on his return home. EURIPIDES. EURIPIDES. MEDEA. The nui'se of MedetVs children opens the tragedy, and a dialogue ensues between her and the YlaLbaycoybs, or tutor, on the grief and anger of their mistress, from which they, knowing her disposition, bode no good. She in the meanwhile rages within, and the nurse going in to console her finishes the first act. Medea, then coming forth, bewails her own and her sex''s hardsliips, and calls on the Chorus to assist her in revenging herself on Jason. Creon enters, and commands her to quit the territory, upon which she, with artful dissimulation, obtains from him leave to remain another day, and on his departure meditates her plan of mischief. The Chorus closes the act by condemning the perfidy of Jason, and pitying the lot of Medea. A dispute tlien ensues between Jason and 90 EURIPIDES. Medea, in which she heaps hun with reproaches and fairly drives liim away. The Chorus moraHses ; then ensues a colloquy between ^geus, king of Athens, (who chances to arrive at Corinth) and Medea, who obtains from liim the promise of an asylum in liis kingdom. Animated by this, she proceeds to tlirow Jason off his guard by pretending to relent, and then prepares the way for her revenge. The Chorus earnestly dissuades her from the murder of her cliildren. Medea in the fourth act completely lulls Jason into security by pretending to be reconciled to her fate, and prepares in the meanwhile some charmed and poisoned gifts, which she sends by her cliildren to Glauce, Jason's intended spouse, and her father Creon. The tutor, who conducted the children tliither, at length returns and reports their favourable reception, as well as the remitted exile of her cliildren. Medea then has a terrible struggle between her revenge and her maternal tenderness, wliich is beautifully drawn by the poet. In the fifth act, a messenger relates, to Medea's savage satisfaction, the death of Creon and his daughter ; and she then proceeds to the dreadful tragedy of slaying her cliildren. Jason hurries to be revenged for the death MEDEA. 91 of Creon and Glauce, and learns on his arrival the fate of his offspring. Medea^ mounted on a dragon- car, defies and leaves him. Tliis is, perhaps, the most striking and powerful of all the ancient plays that have reached us, and combines, in the liighest degree, the tragic attributes of terror and pathos. 92 EURIPIDES. HECUBA. The shade of Polydorus irpokoytCei, or unfolds the argument of the tragedy, a featui'e which peculiarly marks all the plays of Euripides. Hecuba having seen and heard the shade of her son in a di'eamj seeks an interpretation from the Chorus of Ti'ojan captives, who inform her that her daughter, Polyxena, is already condemned to be sacrificed by the Greeks. There follows a toucliing scene between the mother and daughter, in Avliich the latter bewails, not her own destiny, but her mother's, in being thus bereaved. The second act commences with Ulysses coming for Polyxena ; Hecuba uses all her entreaties to save her cliild, and at last tells Polyxena to fall at the feet of Ulysses, which however she refuses, preferring death. Hecuba then desires to die with her, in wliicli she is not indulged, and they are parted in great anguish. The Chorus lament their captivity and its consequences. Tn tlic third art, Talthybius, tlie liorald of Agamemnon HECUBA. 93 and the Greeks, relates to Hecuba, with great feeling, the circumstances of her daughter's death. Then follow the sorrows of Hecuba, and the Chorus, as usual, closes the act. One of the female captives being despatched to the sea-shore, for water to wash the corpse of Polyxena, there finds the body of Polydorus, son of Hecuba and Priam, who had been sent by his parents to the charge of Polymnestor, king of Tlu-ace, and murdered by the tyrant for the sake of his wealth. Hecuba entreats of Agamemnon, that he will at least leave her at liberty to take her own revenge on the murderer ; and the Chorus bewails these miseries. Polymnestor, in the last act, is enticed to the tents of the captives, under pretence of intelligence concerning liidden treasures, and thus falls a prey to liis cupidity ; liis two sons are put to death before him, and himseK blinded by the Trojan captives. Aga- memnon, brought to the spot, applauds the act of Hecuba, and, after her triumph over the defeated murderer, closes the tragedy by ordering Polymnestor to be removed from his sight and sent into exile. 94 EURIPIDES. ORESTES. Electra introduces the subject of tlie play, and Orestes appears seized with occasional insanity in consequence of the matricidal act which he has just perpetrated. Tyndarus, the father of ClytBemnestra, being liis accuser, the people have determined that Orestes and his sister Electra shall be stoned. Menelaus arrives with Helen, and is entreated by his nephew to aid liim, but he rather sides with Tyndarus, and the fate of Orestes appears inevitable. Pylades then appears, and advises his friend to slay Helen in order to punish Menelaus ; she, however, is snatched fi'om her fate by the gods ; but the two friends seize her daughter Hermione and are about to kill her, when Menelaus appears before the palace, wliich he besieges. The inmates tlu-eaten to set it on fire, unless he pleads their cause with the people. Apollo finally appears, and coumaands Menelaus to ORESTES. 95 give Hermione to her cousin Orestes in marriage, wliicli is accordingly done ; and Orestes, being puri- fied from his crime, remains at Argos. 90 EURIPIDES. THE PHCENICIANS. This play takes its name from the Cliorus of Phoenician virgins^ captives devoted to the service of Apollo's temple. The subject is much the same as that of the "Seven against Thebes/^ by^/Eschylus. PolyniceSj exiled at Argos^ marries the daughter of King AdrastuSj and persuades liis father-in-law to send a large army to recover for him his native city^ Thebes. Jocasta^ their mother^ contrives a meeting between Eteocles and Polynices, with the hopes of their being reconciled ; but, failing in the attempt, the latter leaves the city to join liis army. Tiresias prophesies success to the besieged, provided that Menoeceus, son of Creon, be sacrificed. The father objects to tliis, but the son, imder pretence of volimtary exile, goes and puts an end to his life to save his country, Eteocles and Polynices then agi-ee to decide the war by single combat, and fall by each others hands. The Argives retire, and Creon takes THE PHGENICIANS. 97 possession of the throne, proliibiting the rites of sepultiu-e to the body of Polyiiices. The phay con- cludes with a somewhat superfluous dialogue between Creon, Antigone, and CEdipus, the last being con- demned to exile in liis blind state. 98 EURIPIDES. HIPPOLYTUS. VenuSj incensed at the contempt Avhicli Hippolytus evinced towards lierseK, and at his desertion to Diana her antagonist, inspires Phsedra, liis mother-in-law, with a passion for liim, which, being communicated to Hippolytus by the old nurse, merely excites his resentment ; and Phrodra, between rage and shame, hangs herself, leaving a letter in wliich she falsely accuses liim to Theseus. The latter on his return finding this, condemns Hippol}i;us to exile, at the same time invoking Neptune to destroy his son. Hippolytus going forth to exile in his chariot, Neptune sends a horned sea-monster which frightens the horses, and Hippolytus being thrown, becomes entangled in the reins and mortally injured. He is borne in tliis condition to his father, and his patroness Diana appearing, explains the real facts, and leaves Theseus in great grief at the loss of Ins HIPPOLYTUS. 99 son. Ill the Greek Anthology we have the following epigram on the subject of tliis play : 'ZoxppoffvvT) Kcu "Epcas KaTevavriou aWrjAoKTiy 'E\66vTes ipvxas icAeaau a/xcpdrepoi. ^alSprju (Xiv KTslvfv Ttvp6eis ttoBos 'IttttoXiitoio, 'lTnr6\vrov S' ayvr) Tr4(pi'e aao