'.1 -, • . ■ 'y.-.\ ' .w. y^.^c-"'" ' !!?•»»«»>•' ■^^■: THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES VEESES AND TEANSLATIONS. VERSES AXD TKANSLATIOXS. BY C. S. C. CAMBRIDGE : DEIGHTON, BELL, AND CO. LONDON : BELL AND DALDY. 1862. CTuiubribgc : PRINTKD BY JONATHAN PALMKR, .SIDNEY STEEET. CONTENTS. Page VISIONS ... ... ... ... ... 1 GEMINI AND VIKGO ... ... ... ... « "THERE IS A CITY." ... ... ... ... H STRIKING ... ... ... ... ... 1« VOICES OF THE NIGHT ... ... ... 21 LINES SUGGESTED BY THE 14th OF FEBRUARY ... :24 A, B, C. ... ... ... ... ... 2« TO MRS. GOODCHILD ... ... ... ... 28 ODE— 'ON A DISTANT PROSPECT' OF MAKING A FORTUNE ... ... ... ... 33 ISABEL ... ... ... ... ... 37 DIRGE ... ... ... ... ... 40 LINES SUGGESTED BY THE 1-lth OF FEBRUARY ... 4.5 "HIC VIR, HIC EST" ... ... ... ... 47 BEER ... ... ... ... ... 52 ODE TO TOBACCO ... ... ... ... fiO DOVER TO MUNICH ... ... ... ... 63 TO MISS E. C. ... ... ... ... ... 74 CHAR4DES ... ... ... ... ... "' PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY ... ... ... K'O 645969 VI CONTENTS. TRANSLATIONS : Page LVCIDAS 108 In Memoriam 130 Laura Matilda's Dirge 134 " Leaves Have Their Time to Fall." . 138 "Let Us Turn Hitherward Our Bark." ... 142 CARMEN S^CULARE 146 TRANSLATIONS FROM HORACE : To A Ship ■•■ ••■ • 154 To ViRGII, ... ... 156 To THE Fountain OF BANDrSIA 158 To Ibycus's Wife 160 Soracte 162 To Leuconoe 164 Juno's Speech 165 To A Faun... 170 To Lyce ... 172 To HIS Slave 174 TRANSLATIONS : From Virgil 175 From Theocritus • >• ••> . 177 Speech op Ajax 179 From Lucretius 182 From Homer 190 VISIONS. "She was a phantom," &c. TN lone Glenartney's thickets lies couched the lordly stag, The dreaming terrier's tail forgets its customary wag; And plodding ploughmen's weary steps insensibly grow quicker, As broadening casements light them on towards home, or home-brewed liquor. It is (in fact) the evening — that pure and pleasant time, When stars break into splendour, and poets into rhyme; B 2 VISIONS. When in the glass of Memory the forms of loved ones shine — And when, of course, Miss GoodchUd's is prominent in mine. Miss Goodchild ! — Julia Goodchild ! — how graciously you smiled Upon my childish passion once, yourself a fair- haired child : When I was (no doubt) profiting by Dr. Crabb's instruction, And sent those streaky lollipops home for your fairy suction! " She wore" her natural " roses, the night when first we met" — Her golden hair was gleaming 'neath the coercive net: " Her brow was like the snowdrift," her step was like Queen Mab's, VISIONS. 3 And gone was instantly the heart of every boy at Crabb's. The parlour-boarder chasseed by her on graceful limb — The onyx decked his bosom — but her smiles were not for him : With me she danced — till drowsily her eyes " began to bHnk," And /brought raisin wine, and said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink!" And evermore, when winter comes in his garb of snows, And the returning schoolboy is told how fast he grows ; Shall I — with that soft hand in mine — enact ideal Lancers, And dream I hear demure remarks, and make impassioned answers: — 4 VISIONS. I know that never, nevei- may her love for me return — At night I muse upon the fact with undisguised concern — But ever shall I bless that day : (I don't bless, as a rule. The days I spent at " Dr. Crabb's Preparatory School.") And yet — we two mai/ meet again — (Be still, my throbbing heart !) — Now rolling years have weaned us from jam and raspberry-tart : — One night I saw a vision. — 'Twas when musk- roses bloom, I stood — we stood — upon a rug, in a sumptuous dining-room : One hand clasped hers — one easily reposed upon my hip — VISIONS. 5 And "Bless ye!" burst abruptly from Mr. Good- child's lip : I raised my brimming eye, and saw in hers an answering gleam — My heart beat wildly — and I woke, and lo ! it was a dream. GEMINI AND VIRGO. ^OME vast amount of years ago, Ere aU my youth had vanished from me, A boy it was my lot to know. Whom his familiar friends called Tommy, I love to gaze upon a child; A young bud bursting into blossom; Artless, as Eve yet unbeguiled. And agUe as a young opossum : And such was he. A calm-browed lad. Yet mad, at moments, as a hatter : Why hatters as a race are mad I never knew, nor does it matter. GEMINI AND VIRGO. 7 He was what niirses call a "limb;" One of those small misguided creatures Who, though their intellects are dim, Are one too many for their teachers : And, if you asked of him to say What twice 10 was, or 3 times 7, He'd glance, (in quite a placid way,) From heaven to earth, from earth to heaven : And smile, and look politely round, To catch a casual suggestion; But make no effort to propound Any solution of the question. And so not much esteemed was he Of the authorities : and therefore He fraternized by chance with me. Needing a somebody to care for: GEMINI ANB VIRGO. And three fair summers did we twain Live (as they say) and love together; And bore by turns the wholesome cane Till our young skins became as leather: And carved our names on every desk, And tore our clothes, and inked our collars; And looked unique and picturesque. But not, it may be, model scholars. « "We did much as we chose to do; We'd never heard of Mrs. Grundy; All the theology we knew Was that we mightn't play on Sunday; And all the general truths, that cakes Were to be bought at four a penny, And that excruciating aches Resulted if we ate too many: GEMINI AND VIRGO. And seeing ignorance is bliss, And wisdom consequently folly, The obvious result is tbis — That our two lives were very jolly. At last the separation came. Eeal love, at that time, was the fashion; And by a horrid chance, the same Young thing was, to us both, a passion. Old PosEK snorted like a horse: His feet were large, his hands were pimply. His manner, when excited, coarse : — But Miss P. was an angel simply. She was a blushing gushing thing; All — more than all — my fancy painted; Once — when she helped me to a wing Of goose — I thought I should have fainted. 10 GEMINI AND VIRGO. The people said tliat she was blue: But I was green, and loved her dearly. She was approaching thirty-two; And I was then eleven, nearly. I did not love as others do; (None ever did that I've heard tell of;) My passion was a byword through The town she was, of course, the beUe of: Oh sweet — as to the toilworn man The far-off sound of rippling river; As to cadets in Hindostan The fleeting remnant of their liver — To me was Anna; dear as gold That fiUs the miser's sunless coffers; As to the spinster, growing old, The thought — the dream — that she had offers. GEMINI AND VIRGO. 11 I'd sent her little gifts of fruit; I'd written lines to her as Venus; I'd sworn unflinchingly to shoot The man who dared to come between us : And it was you, my Thomas, you, The friend in whom my soul confided. Who dared to gaze on her — to do, I may say, much the same as I did. One night, I saw him squeeze her hand; There was no doubt about the matter; I said he must resign, or stand My vengeance — and he chose the latter. We met, we 'planted' blows on blows: We fought as long as we were able : My rival had a bottle-nose, And both my speaking eyes were sable. 12 GEMINI AND VIRGO. When the school-bell cut short our strife, Miss P. gave both of us a plaster; And in a week became the wife Of Horace Nibbs, the writing-master. * * * * # I loved her then — I'd love her still, Only one must not love Another's: But thou and I, my Tommy, will, When we again meet, meet as brothers. It may be that in age one seeks Peace only: that the blood is brisker In boys' veins, than in theirs whose cheeks Are partially obscured by whisker; Or that the growing ages steal The memories of past wrongs from us. But this is certain — that I feel Most friendly unto thee, oh Thomas! GEMINI AND VIRGO. And wheresoe'er we meet again, On this or that side the equator, If X've not turned teetotaller then, And have wherewith to pay the waiter, To thee I'll drain the modest cup, Ignite with thee the mild Havannah ; And we will waft, while liquoring up, Forgiveness to the heartless Anna. " There is a City." Ingoldsbt. VEAR by year do Beauty's daughters, In the sweetest gloves and shawls, Troop to taste the Chattenham waters, And adorn the Chattenham balls. 'Nulla non donanda lauru,* Is that city: you could not, Placing England's map before you, Light on a more favoured spot. If no clear translucent river Winds 'neath willow-shaded paths, " Children and adults" may shiver All day in "Chalybeate baths:" ''TSEJRE IS A city:' 15 If "the inimitable Fechter" Never brings the gallery down, Constantly "the Great Protector" There "rejects the British crown:" And on every side the painter Looks on wooded vale and plain And on fair hills, faint and fainter Outlined as they near the main. There I met with him, my chosen Friend — the ' long ' but not * stem swell,'* Faultless in his hats and hosen. Whom the Johnian lawns know well : — Oh my comrade, ever valued! StiU. I see your festive face; Hear you humming of "the gal you'd Left behind" in massive bass : * "The kites know well the long stern swell That bids the Romans close." Macavlay. 16 ''THERE IS A CITY." See you sit with that composure On the eeliest of hacks, That the novice would suppose your Manly limbs encased in wax: Or anon, — when evening lent her Tranquil light to hill and vale, — Urge, towards the table's centre, With unerring hand, the squail. Ah delectablest of summers! How my heart — that "muffled drum" Which ignores the aid of drummers — Beats, as back thy memories come! Oh, among the dancers peerless, Fleet of foot, and soft of eye! Need I say to you that cheerless Must my days be till I die? ''TEERE IS A CITY." 17 At my side she mashed the fragrant Strawberry; lashes soft as silk Drpoped o'er saddened eyes, when vagrant Gnats sought (watery?) graves in milk: Then we danced, we walked together ; Talked — no doubt on trivial topics; Such as Blondin, or the weather. Which "recalled to us the tropics"; Eut — oh ! in the deuxtemps peerless, Fleet of foot, and soft of eye I — Once more I repeat, that cheerless Shall my days be till I die. And the lean and hungry raven. As he picks my bones, will start To observe * m. n.' engraven Neatly on my blighted heart. STEIKING. TT was a railway passenger, And he lept out jauntilie. " Now up and bear, thou stout porter, My two chattels to me : " Bring hither, bring hither my bag so red, And portmanteau so brown : (They lie in the van, for a trusty man He labelled them London town:) " And fetch me eke a cabman bold, That I may be his fare, his fare; And he shall have a good shilling. If by two of the clock he do me bring To the Terminus, Euston Square." STRIKING. 19 "Now, — so to thee the saints alway, Good gentleman, give luck, — As never a cab may I find this day, For the cabman wights have struck : And now, I wis, at the Red Post Inn, Or else at the Dog and Duck, Or at Unicorn blue, or at green Grifiin, The nut-brown ale and the fine old gin Eight pleasantly they do suck." " Now rede me aright, thou stout porter. What were it best that I should do : For woe is me, an I reach not there Or ever the clock strike two." •'I have a son, a lytel son; Fleet is his foot as the wild roebuck's : Give him a shilling, and eke a brown, And he shall carry thy chattels down. 20 STRIKING. To Euston, or half over London town, On one of the station trucks." Then forth in a hurry did they twain fare, The gent, and the son of the stout porter, \Vlio fled like an arrow, nor turned a hair. Through all the mire and muck: ' ' A ticket, a ticket, sir clerk, I pray : For by two of the clock must I needs away :" " That may hardly be," the clerk did say, "For indeed — the clocks have struck." VOICES OF THE NIGHT. "The tender Grace of a day that is past." fT^HE dew is on the roses, The owl hath spread her wing; And vocal are the noses Of peasant and of king : "Nature" (in short) "reposes;" But I do no such thing. Pent in my lonesome study Here I must sit and muse; Sit till the morn grows ruddy, Till, rising with the dews, " Jeameses" remove the muddy Spots from their masters' shoes. 22 VOICES OF TEE NIGHT. Yet are sweet faces flinging Their witchery o'er me here: I hear sweet voices singing A song as soft, as clear, As (previously to stinging) A gnat sings round one's ear. Does Grace draw young Apollos In blue mustachios still? Does Emma tell the swallows How she will pipe and trill, When, some fine day, she follows Those birds to the window-sill? And oh! has Albert faded From Grace's memory yet? Albert, whose "brow was shaded By locks of glossiest jet," Whom almost any lady'd Have given her eyes to get? VOICES OF TEE NIGHT. 23 Does not her conscience smite her For one who hourly pines, Thinking her bright eyes brighter Than any star that shines — I mean of conjse the writer Of these pathetic lines? Who knows? As quoth Sir "Walter, "Time rolls his ceaseless course: The Grace of yore" may alter — And then, I've one resource: I'll invest in a bran-new halter. And I'll perish without remorse. LINES SUGGESTED BY THE FOIIRTEENTH OF FEBRUARY. "PRE the morn the east has crimsoned, When the stars are twinkling there, (As they did in Watts' s hymns, and Made him wonder what they were:) When the forest-nymphs are beading Fern and flower with silvery dew — My infallible proceeding Is to wake, and think of you. When the hunter's ringing bugle Sounds farewell to field and copse, And I sit before my frugal Meal of grayy-soup and chops : When (as Gray remarks) " the moping Owl doth to the moon complain," LINES SUGGESTED BY THE Uth OF FEB. 25 And the hour suggests eloping — Fly my thoughts to you again. May my dreams be granted never? Must I aye endure affliction Earely realised, if ever, In our wildest works of fiction? Madly Komeo loved his Juliet; Copperfield began to pine When he hadn't been to school yet — But their loves were cold to mine. Give me hope, the least, the dimmest, Ere I drain the poisoned cup : Tell me I may tell the chymist Not to make that arsenic up ! Else, this heart shall soon cease throbbing; And when, musing o'er my bones. Travellers ask, "Who killed Cock Robin?" They'll be told, " Miss Sarah J— s." A, B, C. A is an Angel of blushing eighteen : B is the Ball where the Angel was seen : C is her Chaperone, who cheated at cards : D is the Deuxtemps, with Frank of the Guards : E is the Eye which those dark lashes cover: E is the Fan it peeped wickedly over: G is the Glove of superlative kid : H is the Hand which it spitefully hid: I is the Ice which spent nature demanded: J is the Juvenile who hurried to hand it: K is the Kerchief, a rare work of art: L is the Lace which composed the chief part. M 's the old Maid who watch' d the girls dance '. N is the Nose she turned up at each glance: A, £, a 27 is the Olga (just then in its prime) : P is the Partner who wouldn't keep time : Q, 's a 'Quadrille, put instead of the Lancers : R the Remonstrances made by the dancers : S is the Supper, where all went in pairs : T is the Twaddle they talked on the stairs : TJ is the Uncle who 'thought we'd be going': V is the Voice which his niece replied ' !No' in : W is the Waiter, who sat up till eight: X is his Exit, not rigidly straight: Y is a Yawning fit caused by the Ball : Z stands for Zero, or nothing at all. TO MRS. GOODCHILD. T'HE night wind's sliriek is pitiless and hollow, The boding bat flits by on sullen wing, And I sit desolate, like that "one swallow" Who found (with horror) that he'd not brought spring : Lonely as he who erst with venturous thumb Drew from its pie-y lair the solitary plum. And to my gaze the phantoms of the Past, The cherished fictions of my boyhood, rise : I see Eed Eidinghood observe, aghast. The fixed expression of her grandam's eyes ; I hear the fiendish chattering and chuckling Which those misguided fowls raised at the Ugly Duckling. TO MRS. GOOBCEILD. 29 The House that Jack bxiilt — and the Malt that lay "Within the House — the Eat that ate the Malt — The Cat, that in that sanguinary way Punished the poor thing for its venial fault — The Worrier-Dog — the Cow with crumpled horn — And then — ah yes ! and then — the Maiden all forlorn ! Oh Mrs. Gurton — (may I call thee Gammer?) — Thou more than mother to my infant mind! I loyed thee better than I loved my grammar — I used to wonder why the Mice were blind, And who was gardener to Mistress Mary, And what — I don't know still — was meant by "quite contrary?" "Tota contraria," an "Arundo Cami" Has phrased it — which is possibly explicit, Ingenious certainly — but all the same I Still ask, when coming on the word, ' What is it?' 30 TO MRS. GOOBCHILB. There were more things in Mrs. Gurton's eye, Mayhap, than are dreamed of in our philosophy. No doubt the Editor of 'Notes and Queries' Or ' Things not generally known' could tell That word's real force — my only lurking fear is That the great Gammer "didna ken hersel:" (I've precedent, yet feel I owe apology For passing in this way to Scottish phraseology.) Also, dear Madam, I must ask your pardon For making this unwarranted digression, Starting (I think) from Mistress Mary's garden : — And beg to send, with every expression Of personal esteem, a Book of Rhymes, For Master G. to read at miscellaneous times. There is a youth, who keeps a 'crumpled Horn,' (Living next me, upon the selfsame story,) And ever, 'twixt the midnight and the morn, TO MRS. GOOBCHILD. 31 He solaces his soul with Annie Laurie, The tune is good ; the habit p'raps romantic ; But tending, if pursued, to drive one's neighbours frantic. And now, — at this unprecedented hour. When the young Dawn is " trampling out the stars," — I hear that youth — with more than usual power And pathos — struggling with the first few bars. And I do think the amateur cornopean Should be put down by law — but that's perhaps Utopian. Who knows what "things unknown" I might have " bodied Forth," if not checked by that absurd Too-too? But don't I know, that when my friend has plodded 32 TO MUS. OOOBCHILD. Through the first verse, the second will ensue ? Considering which, dear Madam, I will merely Send the aforesaid book — and am yours most sin- cerely. ODE—' ON A DISTANT PROSPECT ' OF MAKING A FORTUNE. I^OW the "rosy morn appearing" Floods with light the dazzled heaven; And the schoolboy groans on hearing That eternal clock strike seven : — Now the waggoner is driving Towards the fields his clattering wain; Now the blue-bottle, reviving, Buzzes down his native pane. But to me the morn is hateful : Wearily I stretch my legs, Dress, and settle to my plateful Of (perhaps inferior) eggs. Yesterday Miss Crump, by message Mentioned "rent," which "p'raps I'd pay;" 34 ODE—' ON A DISTANT PROSPECT' And I have a dismal presage That she'll call, herself, to-day. Once, I breakfasted off rosewood, Smoked through silvermounted pipes — Then how my patrician nose would Turn up at the thought of ''swipes!" Ale, — occasionally claret, — Graced ray luncheon then : — and now I drink porter in a garret. To be paid for heaven knows how. When the evening shades are deepened, And I doff my hat and gloves, No sweet bird is there to " cheep and Twitter twenty million loves:" No darkringleted canaries Sing to me of "hungry foam;" No imaginary "Marys" Call fictitious " cattle home." OF MAKING A FORTUNE. 35 Araminta, sweetest, fairest ! Solace once of every ill ! How I wonder if thou bearest Mivins in remembrance still I If that Friday night is banished Yet from that retentive mind, When the others somehow vanished, And we two were left behind : — "When in accents low, yet thrilling, I did all my love declare; Mentioned that I'd not a shilling — Hinted that we need not care : And complacently yon listened To my somewhat long address — (Listening, at the same time, isn't Quite the same as saying Yes.) Once, a happy child, I caroUed O'er green lawns the whole day througli. 36 OLE—' ON A DISTANT FROSPECT: Not unpleasingly apparelled In a tightish suit of blue : — What a change has now passed o'er me! Now with what dismay I see Every rising mora before me ! Goodness gracious patience me ! And I'll prowl, a moodier Lara, Through the world, as prowls the bat, And habitually wear a Cypress wreath around my hat : And when Deatli suviffs out the tapei' Of my Life, (as soon he muot), I'll send up to every paper, •'Died, T. Mivins; of disgust." ISABEL. AJOW o'er the landscape crowd the deepening shades, And the shut lily cradles not the bee; The red deer couches in the forest glades, And faint the echoes of the slumberous sea : And ere I rest, one prayer I'll breathe for thee, The sweet Egeria of my lonely dreams : Lady, forgive, that ever upon me Thoughts of thee linger, as the soft starbeams Linger on Merlin's rock, or dark Sabrina's streams. On gray Pilatus once we loved to stray. And watch far off the glimmering roselight break O'er the dim mountain-peaks, ere yet one ray Pierced the deep bosom of the mist-clad lake. 38 ISABEL. Oh! who felt not new life within him wake, And his pulse quicken, and his spirit burn — (Save one we wot of, whom the cold did make Feel "shooting pains in every joint in turn,") When first he saw the sun gild thy green shores, Lucerne ? And years have past, and I have gazed once more On blue lakes glistening beneath mountains blue ; And all seemed sadder, lovelier than before — For aU awakened memories of you. Oh I had I had you by my side, in lieu Of that red matron, whom the flies would worry, (Flies in those parts unfortunately do,) Who walked so slowly, talked in such a hurry. And with such wild contempt for stops and Lindley Miirray ! Isabel, the brightest, heavenliest theme That ere drew dreamer on to poesy, ISABEL. 39 Since "Peggy's locks" made Burns neglect his team. And Stella's smile lured Johnson from his tea — I may not tell thee what thou art to me ! But ever dwells the soft voice in my ear, Whispering of what Time is, what Man might be. Would he but " do the duty that lies near," And cut clubs, cards, champagne, balls, billiard- rooms, and beer. DIEGE. " Dr. Birch's young friends will reassemble to day, Feb. 1st." XySITE is the wold, and ghostly The dank and leafless trees; And 'M's and 'N's are mostly Pronounced like 'B's and 'D's: 'Neath bleak sheds, ice-encrusted, The sheep stands, mute and stolid: And ducks find out, disgusted, That all the ponds are solid. Many a stout steer's work is (At least in this world) finished; The gross amount of turkies Is sensibly diminished : The holly-boughs are faded, The painted crackers gone; DIRGE. 41 Would I could write, as Gray did, An Elegy thereon ! For Christmas-time is ended : Now is ''our youth" regaining Those sweet spots where are " blended Home-comforts and school-training." Now they're, I dare say, venting Their grief in transient sobs, And I am "left lamenting" At home, with Mrs. Dobbs. Posthumus! " Fugaces Labuntur anni" still; Time robs us of our graces. Evade him as we will. We were the twins of Siam : Now she thinks me a bore, And I admit that / am Inclined at times to snore. 42 DIRGE. I was her own Nathaniel; With her I took sweet counsel, Brought seed-cake for her spaniel, And kept her bird in groundsel : "We've murmured, "How delightful" A landscape, seen by night, is, — And woke next day in frightful Pain from acute bronchitis. •Sf * * * But ah ! for them, whose laughter We heard last New Tear's Day, They recked not of Hereafter, Or what the Doctor 'd say: For those small forms that fluttered Moth-like around the plate, When Sally brought the buttered Buns in at half-past eight! Ah for the altered visage Of her, our tiny Belle, DIRGE. 43 Whom my boy Gus (at his age !) Said was a " deuced swell !" P'raps now Miss Tickler's tocsin Has caged that pert young linnet ; Old Birch perhaps is boxing My Gus's ears this minute. Yet, though your young ears be as Eed as mamma's geraniums, Tet grieve not! Thus ideas Pass into infant craniums. Use not complaints unseemly; Tho' you must work like bricks; And it is cold, extremely, Eising at half-past six. Soon sunnier will the day grow. And the east wind not blow so; Soon, as of yore, L'AUegro Succeed II Penseroso : 44 DIRGE. Stick to your Magnall's Questions And Long Division sums; And come — with good digestions — Home when next Christmas comes. LINES SUGGESTED BY THE FOURTEENTH EEBRUARY. T)AEKKESS succeeds to twilight: Through lattice and through skylight The stars no doubt, if one looked out. Might be observed to shine : And sitting by the embers I elevate my members On a stray chair, and then and there Commence a Valentine. Yea! by St. Valentinus, Emma shall not be minus What all young ladies, whate'er their grade is. Expect to-day no doubt : Emma the fair, the stately — Whom I beheld so lately. 46 LINES SUGGESTED BY THE Uth FEB. Smiling beneath the snow-white wreath Which told that she was "out." "Wherefore fly to her, swallow, And mention that I'd "follow," And "pipe and trill," et cetera, till I died, had I but wings : Say the North's "true and tender," The South an old offender; And hint in fact, with your well-known tact. All kinds of pretty things. Say I grow hourly thinner, Simply abhor my dinner — Tho' I do try and absorb some viand Each day, for form's sake merely: And ask her, when all's ended. And I am found extended. With vest blood-spotted and cut carotid. To think on Her's sincerely. "HIC riR, HIC EST." QFTEN, when o'er tree and turret, Eve a dying radiance flings, By that ancient pile I linger Known familiarly as "King's." And the ghosts of days departed Rise, and in my burning breast All the undergraduate wakens, And my spirit is at rest. What, but a revolting fiction. Seems the actual result Of the Census's enquiiies Made upon the 15th ult. ? Still my soul is in its boyhood; Nor of year or changes recks. 48 ''EIG Vlli, MIC EST." Though my scalp is almost hairless, And my figure grows convex. Backward moves the kindly dial ; And I'm numbered once again With those noblest of their species Called emphatically 'Men': Loaf, as I have loafed aforetime. Through the streets, with tranquil mind, And a long-backed fancy-mongrel Trailing casually behind : Past the Senate-house I saunter, "Whistling with an easy grace; Past the cabbage-stalks that carpet Still the beefy market-place; Poising evermore the eyeglass In the light sarcastic eye, Lest, by chance, some breezy nursemaid Pass, without a tribute, by. "SIC VIS, EIC EST:' 49 Once, an unassuming Freshman, Through these wilds I wandered on, Seeing in each house a College, Under every cap a Don; Each perambulating infant Had a magic in its squall. For my eager eye detected Senior Wranglers in them all. By degrees my education Grew, and I became as others ; Learned to court delirium tremens By the aid of Bacon, Brothers ; Bought me tiny boots of Mortlock, And colossal prints of Roe ; And ignored the proposition That both time and money go. Learned to work the warj- dogcart Artfully through King's Parade; 50 ''HIG VIE, SIC EST." Dress, and steer a boat, and sport with Amaryllis in the shade : Struck, at Brown's, the dashing hazard; Or (more curious sport than that) Dropped, at Callaby's, the terrier Down upon the prisoned rat. I have stood serene on Penner's Ground, indifferent to blisters, While the Buttress of the period Bowled me his peculiar twisters : Sung 'We won't go home till morning': Striven to part my backhair straight; Drunk (not lavishly) of Miller's Old dry wines at 78 : — When within my veins the blood ran, And the curls were on my brow, I did, oh ye undergraduates. Much as ye are doing now. " EIC VIE, mC ESTr 51 Wherefore bless ye, oh beloved ones :— Ijow unto mine inn must I, Tour 'poor moralist,'* betake me, In my 'solitary fly.' * "Poor moralist, and -what art thou? A solitary fly." Gray. BEER. TN those old days whicli poets say were golden — (Perhaps they laid the gilding on themselves : And, if they did, I'm all the more beholden To those brown dwellers in my dusty shelves, Who talk to me "in language quaint and olden" Of gods and demigods and fauns and elves, Pan with his pipes, and Bacchus with his leopards, .A.nd staid young goddesses who flirt with shepherds : ) In those old days, the Nymph called Etiquette (Appalling thought to dwell on) was not born. They had their May, but no Mayfair as yet, No fashions varying as the hues of morn. BEER. 53 Just as they pleased they dressed and drank and ate, Sang hymns to Ceres (their John Barleycorn) And danced unchaperoned, and laughed unchecked, And were no doubt extremely incorrect. Yet do I think their theory was pleasant : And oft, I own, my ' wayward fancy roams' Back to those times, so different from the present ; When no one smoked cigars, nor gave At-homes, !Nor smote a billiard ball, nor winged a pheasant, Nor ' did' their hair by means of long-tailed combs, Nor migrated to Brighton once a-year. Nor — most astonishing of all — drank Beer. No, they did not drink Beer, "which brings me to" (As Gilpin said) "the middle of my song." Not that "the middle" is precisely true. Or else I should not tax your patience long : If 1 had said ' beginning,' it might do ; But I have a dislike to quoting wrong : 54 BEER. I was unlucky — sinned against, not sinning — "When Cowper wrote down ' middle' for ' beginning.' So to proceed. That abstinence from Malt Has always struck me as extremely curious. The Greek mind must have had some vital fault, That they should stick to liquors so injurious — (Wine, water, tempered p'raps with Attic salt) — And not at once invent that mild, luxurious, And artful beverage, Beer. How the digestion Got on without it, is a startling question. Had they digestions ? and an actual body Such as dyspepsia might make attacks on ? Were they abstract ideas — (like Tom Noddy And Mr. Briggs) — or men, like Jones and Jackson ? Then Nectar — was that beer, or whiskey-toddy ? Some say the Gaelic mixture, / the Saxon : I think a strict adherence to the latter Might make some Scots less pigheaded, and fatter. BEER. 55 Besides, Bon Gaultier definitely shews That the real beverage for feasting gods on Is a soft compound, grateful to the nose And also to the palate, known as ' Hodgson.' I know a man — a tailor's son — who rose To be a peer : and this I would lay odds on, (Though in his Memoirs it may not appear,) That that man owed his rise to copious Beer. Oh Beer ! Oh Hodgson, Guinness, AUsop, Bass ! Names that should be on every infant's tongue ! Shall days and months and years and centuries pass. And still your merits be unrecked, unsung ? Oh ! I have gazed into my foaming glass. And wished that lyre could yet again be strung Which once rang prophet-like through Greece, and taught her Misguided sons that " the best drink was water." 56 BEER. How would he now recant that wild opinion, And sing — as would that I could sing — of you ! I was not born (alas!) the "Muses' minion," I'm not poetical, not even blue : And he (we know) but strives with waxen pinion, Whoe'er he is that entertains the view Of emulating Pindar, and will be Sponsor at last to some now nameless sea. Oh ! when the green slopes of Arcadia burned "With all the lustre of the dying day, And on Cithseron's brow the reaper turned, (Humming, of course, in his delightful way. How Lycidas was dead, and how concerned The Nymphs were when they saw his lifeless clay ; And how rock told to rock the dreadful story That poor young Lycidas was gone to glory:) "What would that lone and labouring soul have given, At that soft moment, for a pewter pot ! BEER. 57 How had the mists that dimmed his eye been riven, And Jjycidas and sorrow all forgot ! If his own grandmother had died unshriven, In two short seconds he'd have recked it not ; Such power hath Beei\ The heart which Grief hath canker' d Hath one unfailing remedy — the Tankard. Coffee is good, and so no doubt is cocoa ; Tea did for Johnson and the Chinamen : "Wlien ' Lulce est desipere in loco' Was written, real Falernian winged the pen. "When a rapt audience has encored ' Fra Poco' Or ' Casta Diva,' I have heard that then The Prima Donna, smiling herself out, Eecruits her flagging powers with bottled stout. But what is coffee, but a noxious berry. Born to keep used-up Londoners awake ? 58 BEEB. What is Falemian, what is Port or Sherry, But vile concoctions to make dull heads ache ? Nay stout itself— (though good with oysters, very) — Is not a thing your reading man should take, He that would shine, and petrify his tutor, Should drink draught Allsop in its "native pewter." But hark ! a sound is stealing on my ear — A soft and silvery sound — I know it well. Its tinkling tells me that a time is near Precious to me — it is the Dinner Bell. Oh blessed Bell ! Thou bringest beef and beer, Thou bringest good things more than tongue may tell: Seared is (of course) my heart — but unsubdued Is, and shall be, my appetite for food. I go. Untaught and feeble is my pen : But on one statement I may safely venture ; BEER. 59 That few of our most highly gifted men Have more appreciation of the trencher. I go. One pound of British beef, and then What Mr. Swiveller called a "modest quencher;" That home-retiuTiing, I may ' soothly say,' " Fate cannot touch me : I have dined to-day." ODE TO TOBACCO. T^HOU who, when fears attack, Bidest them avaunt, and Black Care, at the horseman's back Perching, unseatest; Sweet when the morn is grey; Sweet, when they've cleared away Lunch; and at close of day Possibly sweetest: I have a liking old For thee, though manifold Stories, I know, are told, Not to thy credit; ODE TO TOBACCO. 61 How one (or two at most) Drops make a cat a ghost — Useless, except to roast — Doctors have said it: How they who use fusees All grow by slow degrees Erainless as chimpanzees, Meagre as lizards; Go mad, and beat their wives; Plunge (after shocking lives) Eazors and carving knives Into their gizzards : Confound such knavish tricks ! Yet know I five or six Smokers who freely mix Still with theii' neighbours ; Jones — (who, I'm glad to say, 62 ODE TO TOBACCO. Asked leave of Mrs. J.) — Daily absorbs a clay After his labours : Cats may have had their goose Cooked by tobacco juice ; Still why deny its use v Thoughtfully taken? We're not as tabbies are: Smith, take a fresh cigar! Jones, the tobacco-jar! Here's to thee, Bacon! DOYER TO MUNICH. T^AEEWELL, farewell! Before our prow Leaps in white foam the noisy channel, A tourist's cap is on my brow, My legs are cased in tourist's flannel : Around me gasp the invalids — (The quantity to-night is fearful) — I take a brace or so of weeds, And feel (as yet) extremely cheerful. The night wears on : — my thirst I quench With one imperial pint of porter; Then drop upon a casual bench — (The bench is short, but I am shorter)— 64 DOVER TO MUNICH. Place 'neath my head the havre-sac "Which I have stowed my little all in, And sleep, though moist about the back, Serenely in an old tarpaulin. Bed at Ostend at 5 a.m. Breakfast at 6, and train 6.30. Tickets to Konigswinter (mem. The seats objectionably dirty). And onward through those dreary flats We move, with scanty space to sit on, Flanked by stout girls with steeple-hats, Ard waists that paralyse a Briton ; — By many a tidy little town, Where tidy little Fraus sit knitting ; (The men's pursuits are, lying down, Smoking perennial pipes, and spitting;) DOVER TO MUNICH. 65 And doze, and execrate the heat, And wonder how far off Cologne is, And if we shall get aught to eat, Till we get there, save raw polonies : Until at last the "grey old pile" Is seen, is past, and three hours later We're ordering steaks, and talking vile Mock-German to an Austrian waiter. Konigswinter, hateful Konigswinter ! Burying-place of all I loved so well ! Never did the most extensive printer Print a tale so dark as thou could' st tell ! In the sapphire West the eve yet lingered, Bathed in kindly light those hill-tops cold; Fringed each cloud, and, stooping rosy-fingered. Changed Rhine's waters into molten gold; — 66 DOVER TO MUNICH. While still nearer did his light waves splinter Into silvery shafts the streaming light; And I said I loved thee, Konigswinter, For the glory that was thine that night. And we gazed, till slowly disappearing. Like a day-dream, passed the pageant by, And I saw but those lone hills, nprearing Dull dark shapes against a hue-less sky. Then I turned, and on those bright hopes pondered Whereof yon gay fancies were the type; And my hand mechanically wandered Towards my left-hand pocket for a pipe. Ah! why starts each eyeball from its socket. As, in Hamlet, start the guilty Queen's? There, deep-hid in its accustomed pocket. Lay my sole pipe, smashed to smithereens ! DOVER TO MUNICH. 67 On, on the vessel steals; Round go the paddle-wheels, And now the tourist feels As he should; For king-like rolls the Rhine, And the scenery's divine. And the victuals and the wine Rather good. From every crag we pass '11 Rise up some hoar old castle; The hanging fir-groves tassel Every slope; And the vine her lithe arms stretches O'er peasants singing catches — And you'll make no end of sketches, I should hope. 6S DOVER TO MUNICH. We've a nun here (called Theresa), Two couriers out of place, One Yankee, with a face Like a ferret's : And three youths in scarlet caps Drinking chocolate and schnapps — A diet which perhaps Has its merits. And day again declines: In shadow sleep the vines, And the last ray through the pines Feebly glows. Then sinks behind yon ridge; And the usual evening midge Is settling on the bridge Of my nose. DOVER TO MUNICH. 69 A.Tid keen's the air and cold, And the sheep are in the fold, And Night walks sable-stoled Through the trees; And on the silent river The floating starbeams quiver; — And now, the saints deliver Us from fleas. Avenues of broad white houses. Basking in the noontide glare; — Streets, which foot of traveller shrinks from, As on hot plates shiinks the bear; — Elsewhere lawns, and vista' d gardens, Statues white, and cool arcades, Where at eve the German warrior Winks upon the German maids; — 70 DOVER TO MUNICH. Such is Municli : — broad and stately. Rich of hue, and fair of form; But, towards the end of August, Unequivocally wa/rm. There, the long dim galleries threading, May the artist's eye behold, Breathing from the "deathless canvass" Records of the years of old : Pallas there, and Jove, and Juno, " Take" once more " their walks abroad," Under Titian's fiery woodlands And the saifron skies of Claude: There the Amazons of Rubens Lift the failing arm to strike. And the pale light falls in masses On the horsemen of Vandyke; DOVER TO MUNICH. 71 And in Berghem's pools reflected Hang the cattle's graceful shapes, And Murillo's soft boy-faces Laugh amid the Seville grapes; And all purest, loveliest fancies That in poet's souls may dwell Started into shape and substance At the touch of Eaphael. — Lo ! her wan arms folded meekly. And the glory of her haii- Falling as a robe around her, Kneels the Magdalene in prayer; And the "white-robed Virgin-mother Smiles, as centuries back she smiled, Half in gladness, half in wonder, On the calm face of her Child: — 72 DOVER TO MUNICH. And that mighty Judgment-vision Tells how man essayed to climb Tip the ladder of the ages, Past' the frontier-walls of Time ; Heard the trumpet-echoes rolling Through the phantom-peopled sky, And the still voice bid this mortal Put on immortality. * * ^ -;? Thence we turned, what time the blackbird Pipes to vespers from his perch, And from out the clattering city Past into the silent church ; Marked the shower of sunlight breaking Through the crimson panes o'erhead, And on pictured wall and window Eead the histories of the dead : DOVER TO MUNICS. 73 Till the kneelers round us, rising, Grossed their foreheads and were gone; And o'er aisle and arch and cornice, Layer on layer, the night came on. TO MISS E. C. FROM AN OLD FRIEND. XJOPIN' my own cMckabiddy, and bless her smilin' face, Will excuge this same, which I ast yer parding grant yer grace, Havin' been took with fits last night and never slep a wink A thinking o' you, my bird, and but for the least- est drop o' drink Should be a copse in the arey now ; which weU you knows, my child, It's little as Sairey wants, perwisin' it's brought reglar and drawed mild : So here's luck, and a ansome pardner, and a puss and goldian guineas. TO MISS E. C. lb And claridge a plenty, and oh my dear find out where the key of the bin is ! Which Gamp he kep hisself, till took out by me, a bage feller. In a blue ankercher unbeknown, when drunk, my dear, in the cellar. Says Mrs. Harris to me, "Ma'am," she says, "them men's ojiss :" "Ma'am," I says in return," we lives in a Piljian's Projiss ; "But pick yer chice," I says, "and there's better nor you suppoges ; And maybe I've had experienge, not bein' Solomons nor yet Moges." "You underpaid faithful creetur," she says, " your words is true." And PICK YOiTE CHicE, my dovey, is what I says to you. And if ever you feels worrited, which worrited you will be, 76 TO MISS E. C. And coiild fancy a biled egg or an ingun with a nice cup o' tea, Go to Kingsgate Street, High Holbom, the bird- fancier's in the arey, She as you wants live there — snap her up — and her name's Saiket. CHARADES. ^HE stood at Greenwich, motionless amid The ever-shifting crowd of passengers. I marked a big tear quivering on the lid Of her deep-lustrous eye, and knew that hers "Were days of bitterness. But " Oh ! what stirs," I said, "such storm within so fair a breast?" Even as I spoke, two apoplectic curs Came feebly up: with one wild cry she prest Each singly to her heart, and faltered, " Heaven be blest!" Yet once again I saw her, from the deck Of a black ship that steamed towards Blackwall. 78 CEARABES. She walked upon my first. Her stately neck Bent o'er an object shrouded in her shawl : I could not see the tears — the glad tears — fall, Yet knew they fell. And "Ah," I said, "not puppies, Seen unexpectedly, could lift the paU From hearts who Tcnow what tasting misery's cup is. As Niobe's, or mine, or Mr. "William Guppy's," Spake John Grogblossom the coachman to Eliza Spinks the cook : "Mrs. Spinks," says he, "I've foundered: 'Liza dear, I'm overtook. Druv into a corner reglar, puzzled as a babe unborn ; Speak the word, my blessed 'Liza; speak, and John the coachman's yourn." Then Eliza Spinks made answer, blushing, to the coachman John : CSABABES. 79 "Jolin, I'm born and bred a si^inster: I've begun and I'll go on. Endless cares and endless worrits, well I knows it, has a wife : Cooking for a genteel fam'ly, John, it's a goluptious life! "I gets £20 per annum — tea and things o' course not reckoned, — There's a cat that eats the butter, takes the coals, and breaks mij second : There's soci'ty — James the footman; — (not that I look after him ; But he's aff'ble in his manners, with amazing length of limb;)— "Never durst the missis enter here until I've said 'Come in': If I saw the master peeping, I'd catch up the rolling-pin : 80 CHARADES. Christmas-boxes, that's a something; perkisites, that's something too; And I think, take all together, John, I won't be on with you." John the coachman took his hat up, for he thought he'd had enough ; Rubbed an elongated forehead with a meditative cuff; Paused before the stable doorway ; said, when there, in accents mild, "She's a fine young 'oman, cook is; but that's where it is, she's spiled." I have read in some not marvellous tale, (Or if I have not, I've dreamed) Of one who filled up the convivial cup Till the company round him seemed CHARADES. 81 To be vanished and gone, tho' the lamps upon Their face as aforetime gleamed : And his head sunk down, and a Lethe crept O'er his powerful brain, and the young man slept. Then they laid him with care in his moonlit bed : But first — having thoughtfully fetched some tar — Adorned him with feathers, aware that the weather's Uncertainty brings on at nights catarrh. They staid in his room till the sun was high : But still did the feathered one give no sign Of opening a peeper — he might be a sleeper Such as rests on the rails of the Midland line. At last he woke, and with profound Bewilderment he gazed around; Dropped one, then both feet to the ground, But never spake a word : G 82 CHABABES. Then to my whole he made his way; Took one long lingering survey; And softly, as he stole away, Eemarked, "By Jove, a bird!" < ::i - II. TF you've seen a short man swagger tow'rds the footlights at Shoreditch, Sing out " Heave aho ! my hearties," and per- petually hitch Tip, by an ingenious movement, trousers innocent of brace, Briskly flom-isbing a cudgel in his pleased com- panion's face; If he preluded with hornpipes each successive thing he did, From a sun-browned cheek extracting still an os- tentatious quid; And expectorated freely, and occasionally cursed : — 84 CHARABES. Then have you beheld, depicted by a master's hand, my first. Oh my countryman ! If ever from thy arm the bolster sped, In thy schooldays, with precision at a young com- panion's head; If 'twas thine to lodge the marble in the centre of the ring, Or with well-directed pebble make the sitting hen take wing: Then do thou — each fair May morning, when the blue lake is as glass, And the gossamers are twinkling star-like in the beaded grass; When the mountain-bee is sipping fragrance from the bluebell's lip, And the bathing- woman tells you, now's your time to take a dip : CEAEADES. 85 ■When along the misty valleys fieldward winds the lowing herd, And the early worm is being dropped on by the early bird; And Aurora hangs her jewels from the bendirig rose's cup. And the myriad voice of Nature calls thee to mj/ second up : — Hie thee to the breezy common, where the melancholy goose Stalks, and the astonished donkey finds that he is really loose; There amid green fern and furze-bush shalt thou soon my tvhole behold. Rising 'bull-eyed and majestic' — as Olympus queen of old : Kneel, — at a respectful distance, — as thej- kneeled to her, and try 86 CHARADES. With judicious hand to put a ball into that baU-less eye: Till a stiflfness seize thy elbows, and the general public wake — Then return, and, clear of conscience, walk into thy well-earned steak. III. V. Tj^RE yet " knowledge for the milliou" Came out "neatly bound in boards;" When like Care upon a pillion Matrons rode behind their lords : Rarely, save to hear the Rector, Forth did younger ladies roam; Making pies, and brewing nectar From the gooseberry- trees at home. They'd not dreamed of Pau or Yevay; Ne'er should into blossom burst At the ball or at the levee; Never come, in fact, my first : Nor illumine cards by dozens With some labyrinthine text. Nor work smoking-caps for cousins Who were pounding at my next. 88 CEARABES. Now have skirts, and minds, grown ampler ; Now not all they seek to do Is create upon a sampler Beasts which Biitfon never knew : But their venturous muslins rustle O'er the crags tone and the snow, Or at home, their biceps muscle Grows by practising the bow. "Worthier they those dames who, fable Says, rode "palfreys" to the war With gigantic Thanes, whose "sable Destriers caracoled" before; Smiled, as — springing from the warhorse As men spring in modern ' cirques' — They plunged, ponderous as a four-horse Coach, among the vanished Turks: — In the good times when the jester Asked the monarch how he was, CHARADES. 89 And the landlady addi-est her Guests as "gossip" or as "coz;" "When the Templar said, "Gramercy," Or, " 'Twas shrewdly thrust, i' fegs," To Sii' Halbert or Sir Percy As they knocked him oif his legs : And, by way of mild reminders That he needed coin, the Knight Day by day extracted grinders From the howling Israelite : And my lohole in merry Sherwood Sent, with preterhuman luck. Missiles — not of steel but fii'-wood — Through the two-mile-distant buck. t)ht£acr. IV. "P VEXING threw soberer hue Over the blue sky, and the few Poplars that grew just in the view Of the haU of Sir Hugo de Wynkle : "Answer me true," pleaded Sir Hugh, (Striving to woo no matter who,) "What shall I do, Lady, for you? 'Twill be done, ere your eye may twinkle. Shall I bon'ow the wand of a Moorish enchanter. And bid a decanter contain the Levant, or The brass from the face of a Mormonite ranter? Shall I go for the mule of the Spanish Infantar — (That r, for the sake of the line, we must grant her,)— CHARADES. 91 And race with the foul fiend, and beat in a canter, Like that first of equestrians Tarn o' Shanter ? I talk not mere banter — say not that I can't, or By this my first — (a Virginia planter Sold it me to kill rats) — I will die instanter." The Lady bended her ivory neck, and Whispered mournfully, "Go for — my second y She said, and the red from Sir Hugh's cheek fled, And "Nay," did he say, as he stalked away The fiercest of injured men: "Twice have I humbled my haughty soul, And on bended knee I have pressed my whole — But I never will press it again!" ^»i.,)fmeratque volumina crurum ; Ilia parte senex, amisso forte galcro. Per plateas bacchatur; eura chorus omnis agrestum Ridet anhelantera frustra, et jam jamque tenentem Quod petit ; illud agunt venti prensu'mque resorbent. Post, ubi compositus tandem votique potitus Sedit humi; flet crura tuens nive Candida lenta, CARMEN SJECULAEE. 147 Et vestem laceram, et venturas conjugis iras : Itque domum tendens duplices ad sidera palmas, Corda miser, desiderio perfixa galeri. At juvenis (sed cruda viro Tiridisque juventus) Quserit bacciferas, tunica pendente,^' tabernas : Pervigil ecce Baco furva deprotnit ab area Splendidius quiddam solito, plenumque saporem Laudat, et antiqua jurat de stirpe Jamaicse. fumose puer, niminm ne crede Baconi : Manillas vocat ; hoc prsetexit nomine caules. Te vero, cui forte dedit maturior aetas Scire potestates herbarum, te quoque quanti Circumstent casus, paucis (adverte) docebo. Prsecipue, seu raptat amor te simplicis herbae,! Seu potius tenui Musam meditaris avena, Procuratorem fugito, nam ferrous idem est. * tunica pendente: h. e. 'suspensa e brachio.' Quod proeura- toribus illis valde, ut ferunt, displicebat. Dicunt vero morcm a barbaris tractuni, urbem Hospoiiam in fl, Iside habitantibus. Bacciferas taber- nas: id q. nostri vocant "tobacco-shops." + hericE-avend. Duo quasi genera artis poeta vidctur distinguerc. ' Weed,' ' pipe,' recte Scaliger. 148 CARMEN SJEGULARE. Vita semiboves catulos, redimicula vita Candida : de ccelo descendit crw^e creavrov. 'Nuhe vaporis item conspergere praeter euntes Jura vetant, notumque furens quid femina possit : Odit enim dulces succos anus, odit odorem; Odit Lethasi diffusa volumina fumi. Mille modis reliqui fugiuntque feruntque laborem. Hie Tir ad Eleos, pedibus talaria gestans, Fervidus it latices, et nil acquirit eundo :* Hie petit virides (sed non e gramine) mensas, PoUicitus meliora patri, tormentaquef flexus Per labyiintheos plus quam mortalia tentat, Acre tuens, loculisque pilas immittit et aufert. Sunt alii, quos frigus aqua3, tenuisque phaselus Captat, et tequali surgentes ordine remi. » nil acquirit eundo. Aqua enim aspera, et radentibus parum habilis. Immersum hie aliquem et vlx aut ne vix qiiidem extractum refert schol. + tormcnta p. q. mortalia. Eleganter, ut solet, Peile, 'unearthly cannons.' (Cf. Ainsw. D. s. t.) Perrecondita autem est quiPstio de lusibus illorum temponim, neque in Smithii Diet. Class, satis elucidata. Consule omnino Kentf. de Bill. Loculis, bene vertas, 'pockets.' CARMEN SECULARS. 149 His edura cutis, nee ligno rasile tergum; Par saxi caput : esca boves cum robore Bassi. Tollmit in numerum fera brachia, vique feruntur Per fluctus : sonuere vise clamore secundo : Et picea de puppe freraens immane bubulcus Invocat exitium cunctis, et verbera rapto Stipite defessis onerat graviora caballis. Nil humoris egent alii. Labor arva vagari, Flectere ludus equos, et ainautem devia"'-' curruia. ISTosco purpureas vestes, clangentia nosco Signa tubae, et caudas inter virgulta caninas. Stat vcnator equus, tactoque ferocior armo Sui-git in arrectura, vix auditurus habenam; Et jam prata fuga superat, jam flumina saltu. Aspicias alios ab iniqua sepe rotari In caput, ut scrobibus qute sint fastigia quadrant; Eque rubis aut amne pigro trabere liuinida crura, Et fojdam facicm, dcfloccatumque galerum. * amantcm dcvin. Guorsxun hoc, quirrunt Interpretes. Suspicor cquidcm vespicicndos, vv. 19—23, dc prociu'utoribus. 150 CARMEN' SJECULARE. Sanctius his animal, cui quadra visse rotxmdum* Musse suadet amor, Camique ardentis imago, Inspicat calamos contracta fronte malignos, Perque Mathematicum pelagus, loca turbida, anhelat. Circum dirus " Hymers," nee pondus inutile, "Lignum," " Salmoque," et pueris tu detestate, " Colenso," Horribiles visu formse; livente notatae Ungue omnes, omnes insignes aure canina.f Fervet opus; taciturn pertentant gaudia pectus Tutorum; " pulchrumque mori," dixere, "legendo." Nee vero juvenes facere omnes omnia possunt. Atque unum memini ipse, deus qui dictus amicis, Et multum referens de rixatorej secundo, Nocte terens ulnas ac scrinia, solus in alto Degebat tripode; arcta viro vilisque supellex; * quadr. rot''. — Cami ard. im'. Quadrando enim rotundum (Ang'. 'squaring the circle') Camum accendcre, juvenes Lngenui semper nitebantur. Fecisse vero aliquem non liquet. + aurc canind. Iterum audi Peile, ' dog's-eared.' t rixatore. non male Ileins. cum Aldina, ' vprangler.' CARMEN S^CTILABE. 151 Et sic torva tuens, pedibus per mutua nexis, Sedit, lacte mero mentem mulcente tenellam. Et fors ad summos tandem venisset honores; Sed rapidi juvenes, queis gratior usus equorum, Subveniunt, siecoque vetant inolescere libro. Improbus bos Lector pueros, mentumque virili Laevius, et durse gravat inclementia Mortis :* Agmen iners; queis mos aliena vivere quadra,f Et lituo vexare viros, calcare caballos. Tales mane novo saepc admiramur eimtes Torquibus in rigidis et pelle Libystidis ui'sa^; Admii-amur opusj' tunicae, vestemque|| sororem Iridis, et crurum non cnarrabile tegmcn. » Mortis. Verbum generali fere sensu dictum inveni. Suspicor autera poetam virivm qiiendam innuisse, qui currus, caballos, id genus oinnc, mercede non minima locaret. t alicnd quadril. Sunt qui de pileis Acadcmicis accipiunt. Kapi- orcs cnim suas fere amittcbant. Scd judicet sibi lector. % opus tunica-, ' sUiit-work.' Alii o;;c4. rcr])cram. II vcstcm. Nota propviotatcm verbi. 'Vest,' cnim ap\id politos id. q. vulgo 'waistcoat' appellatur. Quod et femina; usurpabant, ut hodicnnr, fibula revinctum, teste Virgilio : ' ciincs nodantur in auruni, Aurea piirpuream subncctit fibula vcstcm.' 152 CARMEN SJECULARE. Hos inter comites implebat pocula sorbis Infelix puer, et sese recreabat ad ignem, " Evoe, *Basse," freraens : dum velox proeterit setas ; Venit summa dies; et Junior Optimus exit. Saucius at juvenis nota intra tecta refugit, Horrendum ridens, lucemque miserrimus edit : Informem famulus laqueum pendentiaque ossa Mane videt, refugitque feri meminisse magistri. Di nobis meliora ! Modum re servat in omni Qui sapit : baud ilium semper recubare sub umbra, Hand semper madidis juvat impallescere cbartis. Nos numerus sumus, et libros consumere nati; Sed requies sit rebus; amant altema Camense. Nocte dieque legas, cum tertius advenit annus : Turn libros cape; claude fores, et prandia defer. Quartus venit: ini,-|- rebus jam rite paratis, Exultans, et coge gradum conferre magistros. * Basse, eft. Interpretes illud Horatianum, " Bassum Thi'eicia vincat amystide." Non perspexere vii-i docti altei-um hie alludi, Angli- canae originis, neque ilium, ut perhibent, a potu aversum. ■^ Int. Sic nostri, ' Go in and Man.' re6ws, 'subjects,' CAR3IEN S^CULARE. 153 His animadversis, fugies immane Barathrum. His, operose puer, si qua fata aspera rumpas, Tu rixator eris. Saltern non crebra revises Ad stabulum,*' et tota moerens cai'pere juvcnta; Classe nee amisso nil profectura dolentem Tradet ludibriis te plena leporis HiKUDO.f * crebra r. a. stabulum. "Turn up year after year at the old diggings, {i.e. the Senate House,) and be plucked," &c. Peile. Quo quid jejimius? t Classe — Hii-udo. Obscurior allusio ad picturam quandam (ui col- lectione vvn, vel plusquam viri, Punchii repositam,) in qua juvenis custodem stationis moerens alloquitur. TRANSLATIONS FROM HORACE. TO A SHIP. Od. i. U. TTET on fresh billows seaward wilt thou ride, ship ? What dost thou ? Seek a hav'n, and there Rest thee : for lo ! thy side Is oarless all and bare. And the swift south-west-wind hath maimed thy mast, And thy yards creak, and, every cable lost. Yield must thy keel at last On pitiless sea-waves tossed TO A SHIP. 155 Too rudely. Goodly canvass is not thine, Nor gods, to hear thee now, when need is sorest : — Though thou — a Pontic pine, Child of a stately Forest, — Boastest high name and empty pedigree. Pale seamen little trust the gaudy sail: Stay, unless doomed to be The plaything of the gale. j-lee — what of late sore burden was to me, Now a sad memory and a bitter pain, — Those shining Cyclads flee That stud the far-off main. 156 TRANSLATIONS FROM HORACE. TO YIRGIL. Od. i. 24. TTNSHAMED, uncliecked, for one so dear We sorrow. Lead tlie mournful choir, Melpomene, to whom thy sire Gave harp, and song-notes liquid-clear! Sleeps He the sleep that knows no morn? Oh Honour, oh twin-horn with Eight Pure Faith, and Truth that loves the light, When shall again his like be born? Many a kind heart for Him makes moan ; Thine, Virgil, first. But ah! in vain Thy love bids heaven restore again That which it took not as a loan: TO VIRGIL. 157 Were sweeter lute than Orpheus given To thee, did trees thy voice ohey; The blood revisits not the clay Which He, with lifted wand, hath driven Into his dark assemblage, who Unlocks not fate to mortal's prayer. Hard lot! Yet light their griefs who bear The ills which they may not undo. 158 TRANSLATIONS FROM HORACE. TO THE POUNTAIN OF BANDTJSIA. Od. iii. 13. T) ANDUSIA, stainless mirror of the sky ! Thine is the flower-crown'd bowl, for thee shall die, "When dawns again yon sun, the kid; Whose budding horns, half-seen, half-hid. Challenge to dalliance or to strife — in vain ! Soon must the hope of the wild herd be slain, And those cold springs of thine "With blood incarnadine. Fierce glows the Dogstar, but his fiery beam Toucheth not thee : still grateful thy cool stream To labour-wearied ox, Or wanderer from the flocks : TO THE FOUNTAIN OF BANDUSIA. 159 And hencefortli thou shalt be a royal fountain: My harp shall tell how from yon cavernous mountain, Topt by the brown oak-tree, Thou breakest babblingly. 1 60 TEANSLA TIOKS FROM SOMA CE. TO IBYCUS'S WIFE. Od. ii. 15. QPOIJSE of penniless Ibycus, Thus late, bring to a close all thy delinquencies, All thy studious infamy : — Nearing swiftly the grave — (that not an early one) — Cease girls' sport to participate, Blurring stars which were else cloudlessly brilliant. "What suits her who is beautiful Suits not equally thee: rightfully devastates Thy fair daughter the homes of men, Wild as Thyad, who wakes stirred by the kettle- drums. I^othus' beauty constraining her, Like some kid at his play, holds she her revelry : TO IBYCUS'S WIFE. ' 161 Thy years stately Luceria's Wools more fitly become — not din of harpsichords, Not pink-petalled roseblossoms, Not casks drained by an old lip to the sediment. M 162 TBANSLATIOKS FROM HORACE. SORACTE. Od. i. 9. r^NE dazzling mass of solid snow Soracte stands; the bent woods fret Beneath their load; and, sharpest-set "With frost, the streams have ceased to flow. Pile on great faggots and break up The ice : let influence more benign Enter with four-years-treasured wine, Fetched in the ponderous Sabine cup : Leave to the gods all else. When they Have once bid rest the winds that war Over the passionate seas, no more Grey ash and cypress rock and sway. SOEACTE. 163 Ask not what future suns shall bring, Count to-day gain, whate'er it chance To be: nor, young man, scorn the dance, Nor deem sweet Love an idle thine:. Ere Time thy April youth hath changed To sourness. Park and public walk Attract thee now, and whispered talk At twilight meetings pre-arranged; Hear now the pretty laugh that tells In what dim corner lurks thy love; And snatch a bracelet or a glove From wrist or hand that scarce rebels. 164 TRANSLATIONS FROM HORACE. TO LEUCONOE. Od. i. 11. QEEK not, for thou slialt not find it, what my end, what thine shall be; Ask not of Chaldsea's science what God wills, Leuconoe : Better far, what comes, to bear it. Haply many a wintry blast "Waits thee still ; and this, it may be, Jove ordains to be thy last. Which flings now the flagging sea-wave on the obstinate sandstone-reef. Be thou wise: fill up the wine- cup; shortening, since the time is brief, Hopes that reach into the future. While I speak, hath stol'n away Jealous Time. Mistrust To-morrow, catch the blossom of To-day. JUNO'S SPEECH. 165 JUI^O'S SPEECH. Od. iii. 3. HHHE just man's single -purposed mind Not furious mobs that prompt to ill May move, nor kings' frowns shake his will Which is as rock; not warrior- winds That keep the seas in wild unrest; Nor bolt by Jove's own finger hurled : The fragments of a shivered world Would crash round him still self-possest. Jove's wandering son reached, thus endowed, The fiery bastions of the skies; Thus Pollux; with them Caesar lies Beside his nectar, radiant-browed. 166 TBANSLATIONS FROM HORACE. Tor this rewarded, tiger-drawn Eode Bacchus, reining necks before Untamed; for this "War's horses bore Quirinus up from Acheron, When in heav'n's conclave Juno said, Thrice welcomed: ''Troy is in the dust; Troy, by a judge accursed, unjust, And that strange woman prostrated. " The day Laomedon ignored His god-pledged word, resigned to me And Pallas ever-pure, was she. Her people, and their traitor lord. " No more the Greek girl's guilty guest Sits splendour-girt: Priam's perjured sons Find not against the mighty ones Of Greece a shield in Hector's breast: JUNO'S SFEECE. 161 ''And, long drawn out by private jars, The war sleeps. Lo! my wrath is o'er: And him the Trojan vestal bore (Sprung of that hated line) to Mars, "To Mars restore I. His be rest In halls of light: by him be drained The nectar-bowl, his place obtained In the calm companies of the blest. " While betwixt Rome and Ilion raves A length of ocean, where they will llisc empires for the exiles still : While Paris' s and Priam's graves " Are hoof-trod, and the she- wolf breeds Securely there, unharmed shall stand Bome's lustrous Capitol, her hand Impose proud laws on trampled Modes. 168 TRANSLATIONS FROM HORACE. " Wide-feared, to far-off climes be borne Her storv; where the central main Europe and Libya parts in twain, Where full Nile laves a land of corn: " The buried secret of the mine, (Best left there) resolute to spurn, And not to man's base uses turn With hand that spares not things divine. " Earth's utmost end, where'er it be, May her hosts reach; careering proud O'er lands where watery rain and cloud. Or where wild suns hold revelry. "But, to the soldier-sons of Eome, Tied by this law, such fates are willed; That they seek never to rebuild, Too fond, too bold, their grandsires' home. JUJSraS SPEECH. 169 " With darkest omens, deadliest strife, Shall Troy, raised up again, repeat Her history; I the victor-fleet Shall lead, Jove's sister and his wife. " Thrice let Apollo rear the wall Of brass; and thrice my Greeks shall hew The fabric down ; thrice matrons rue In chains their sons', their husbands' fall." lU my light lyre such notes beseem. Stay, Mase; nor, wayward still, rehearse God-utterances in puny verse That may but mar a mighty theme. 170 TRANSLATIONS FROM HORACE. TO A FAIJN". Od. iii. 18. TyOOER of young Nymphs who fly thee, Lightly o'er my sunlit lawn Trip, and go, nor injured by thee Be my weanling herds, oh Faun : If the kid his doomed head bows, and Brims with wine the loying cup. When the year is full; and thousand Scents from altars hoar go up. Each flock in the rich grass gambols When the month comes which is thine; And the happy village rambles Fieldward with the idle kine: TO A FAUN. 171 Lambs play on, the wolf their neighbour: Wild woods deck thee with their spoil; And with glee the sons of labour Stamp thrice on their foe, the soil. 1 72 TRANSLA TIOXS FROM EORA CE. TO LYCE. Od. iv. 13. T TCE, the gods have listened to my prayer : The gods have listened, Lyce. Thou art grey, And stiU would' st thou seem fair; Still unshamed drink, and play, And, wine-flushed, woo slow-answering Love with weak Shrill pipings. "With young Chia He doth dwell, Queen of the harp ; her cheek Is his sweet citadel : — He marked the withered oak, and on he flew Intolerant; shrank from Lyce grim and wrinkled, Whose teeth are ghastly-blue. Whose temples snow -besprinkled : — TO LYCE. 173 Not purple, not the brightest gem that glows, Brings back to her the years which, fleeting fast. Time hath once shut in those Dark annals of the Past. Oh, where is all thy loveliness? soft hue And motions soft? Oh, what of Her cloth rest, Her, who breathed love, who drew My heart out of my breast? Fair, and far-famed, and subtly sweet, thy face Eanked next to Cinara's. But to Cinara fate Gave but a few years' grace; And lets live, all too late, Lyce, the rival of the beldam crow : That fiery youth may see with scornful brow The torch that long ago Beamed bright, a cinder now. 1 74 TRANSLA TIONS. TO HIS SLAVE. Od. i. 38. TDERSIAN grandeur I abhor; Linden-wreathed crowns, avaunt : Boy, I bid thee not explore Woods which latest roses haunt: Try on nought thy busy craft Save plain myrtle ; so arrayed Thou shalt fetch, I drain, the draught Fitliest 'neath the scant vine- shade. VIRGIL. 175 THE DEAD OX. GeORG. IV. T ! smoking in the stubborn plough, the ox Falls, from his lip foam gushing crimson-stained. And sobs his life out. Sad of face the ploughman Moves, disentangling from his comrade's corpse The lone survivor: and its work half-done, Abandoned in the furrow stands the plough. jS'ot shadiest forest- depths, not softest lawns, May move him now : not river amber-pure. That volumes o'er the cragstones to the plain. Powerless the broad sides, glazed the rayless eye, And low and lower sinks the ponderous neck. What thank hath he for all the toil he toiled, The heavy- clodded land in man's behoof 1 76 TRANS LA TIONS. Upturning? Yet the grape of Italy, The stored-up feast hath wrought no harm to him : Green leaf and taintless grass are all their fare; The clear rill or the travel-freshened stream Their cup : nor one care mars their honest sleep. THEOCRITUS. 177 FROM THEOCRITUS. Idyll. VII, ^CARCE midway -vrere we jet, nor yet descried The stone that hides what once was Brasidas : When there drew near a wayfarer from Crete, Young Lycidas, the Muses' votary. The horned herd was his care : a glance might tell So much : for every inch a herdsman he. Slang o'er his shoulder was a ruddy hide Torn fi'om a he-goat, shaggy, tangle-haii-ed, That reeked of rennet yet: a broad belt clasped A patched cloak round his breast, and for a staff A gnarled wild -olive bough his right hand bore. Soon with a quiet smile he spoke — his eye Twinkled, and laughter sat upon his lip : " And whither ploddcst thou thy weary way 178 TRANSLATIONS. Beneath the noontide sun, Simichides? For now the Kzard sleeps upon the wall, The crested lark hath closed his wandering wing. Speed' st thou, a bidd'n guest, to some reveller's hoard ? Or townwards, to the treading of the grape? For lo! recoiling from thy hurrying feet The pavement-stones ring out right merrily." SPEECH OF AJAX. 179 SPEECH OF AJAX. Soph. Aj. 645. A LL strangest things the multitudinous years Bring forth, and shadow from us all we know. Falter alike great oath and steeled resolve; And none shall say of aught, ' This may not he.' Lo ! I myself, but yesterday so strong. As new-dipt steel am weak and all unsexed By yonder woman: yea I mourn for them, Widow and orphan, left amid their foes. But I wiU journey seaward — where the shore Lies meadow-fringed — so haply wash away My sin, and flee that wrath that weighs me down. And, lighting somewhere on an untrodden way, I will bury this my lance, this hateful thing, Deep in some earth-hole where no eye shall see — 180 TRANSLATIONS. Night and Hell keep it in the underworld! For never to this day, since first I grasped The gift that Hector gave, my bitterest foe. Have I reaped aught of honour from the Greeks. So true that byword in the mouths of men, "A foeman's gifts are no gifts, but a curse." Wherefore henceforward shall I know that God Is great; and strive to honour Atreus' sons. Princes they are, and should be obeyed. How else ? Do not all terrible and most puissant things Yet bow to loftier majesties? The "Winter, "Who walks forth scattering snows, gives place anon To fruitage-laden Summer; and the orb Of weary Night doth in her turn stand by, And let shine out, with her white steeds, the Day : Stern tempest-blasts at last sing lullaby To groaning seas : even the archtyrant. Sleep, Doth loose his slaves, not hold them chained for ever. SPEECH OF AJAX. 181 And shall not mankind too learn discipline? / know, of late experience taught, that him Who is my foe I must but hate as one "Whom I may yet call Friend : and him who loves me WiU I but serve and cherish as a man "Whose love is not abiding. Few be they Who, reaching Friendship's port, have there found rest. But, for these things, they shall be well. Go thou, Lady, within, and there pray that the Gods May fill unto the full my heart's desire. And ye, my mates, do unto me with her Like honour: bid young Teucer, if he come, To care for me, but to be your friend still. For where my way leads, thither I shall go : Do ye my bidding; haply yc may hear. Though now is my dark hour, that I have peace. 182 TRANSLATIONS. FROM LUCRETIUS. Book II. gWEET, when the great sea's water is stirred to his depths by the storm-winds, Standing ashore to descry one afar-off mightily struggling : Not that a neighbour's sorrow to you yields dulcet enjoyment ; But that the sight hath a sweetness, of ills our- selves are exempt from. Sweet 'tis too to behold, on a broad plain mustering, war-hosts Arm them for some great battle, one's self un- scathed by the danger: — Yet still happier this: — To possess, impregnably guarded, LUCRETIUS. 183 Those calm heights of the sages, which have for an origin "Wisdom ; Thence to survey our fellows, observe them this way and that way Wander amidst Life's paths, poor stragglers seeking a highway: Watch mind battle with mind, and escutcheon rival escutcheon ; Gaze on that untold strife, which is waged 'neath the sun and the starlight. Up as they toil to the surface whereon rest Eiches and Empire. Oh race bom unto trouble ! oh minds all lacking of eyesight ! 'Keath what a vital darkness, amidst how terrible dangers, Move ye thro' this thing, Life, this fragment! Fools, that ye hear not Nature clamo\ir aloud for the one thing only : that, all pain 1 8 4 TRANSLA TIONS. Parted and past from the Body, the Mind too bask in a blissful Dream, all fear of the future and all anxiety over ! So, as regards Man's Body, a few things only are needful, (Few, tho' we sum up all,) to remove all misery from him; Aye, and to strew in his path such a lib'ral carpet of pleasures, That scarce Nature herself would at times ask happiness ampler. Statues of youth and of beauty may not gleam golden around him, (Each in his right hand bearing a great lamp lustrously burning, Whence to the midnight revel a light may be furnished always) ; Silver may not shine softly, nor gold blaze bright, in his mansion. LUCRETIUS. 185 Nor to the noise of the tabret his halls gold- corniced echo : — Yet stUl he, with his feUow, reposed on the velvety greensward, N'ear to a rippling stream, by a tall tree canopied over, Shall, though they lack great riches, enjoy all bodily pleasure. Chiefliest then, when above them a fair sky smiles, and the young year Flings with a bounteous hand over each green meadow the wild-flowers : — Not more quickly depart from his bosom fiery fevers. Who beneath crimson hangings and pictures cunningly broidercd Tosses about, than from him who must lie in beggarly raiment. Therefore, since to the Body avail not Riches, avails not 186 TRANSLATIONS. Heraldry's utmost boast, nor the pomp and the pride of an Empire; Next shall you own, that the Mind needs likewise nothing of these things. Save if — when, peradventure, your armies over the champaign Spread with a stir and a ferment, and bid War's image awaken. Or when vsdth stir and with ferment a fleet sails forth upon Ocean — Cowed before these brave sights, pale Superstition abandon Straightway your mind as you gaze, Death seem no longer alarming. Trouble vacate your bosom, and Peace hold holiday in you. But, if (again) all this be a vain impossible fiction ; If of a truth men's fears, and the cares which hourly beset them. LUCRETIUS. 187 Heed not the jav'lin's fury, regard not clashing of broadswords ; But ail-boldly amongst crowned heads and the rulers of empires Stalk, not shrinking abashed from the dazzling glare of the red gold, Not from the pomp of the monarch, who walks forth purple-apparelled. These things shew that at times we are bankrupt, surely, of Reason; When too all Man's life through a great Dark laboureth onward. jFor, as a young boy trembles, and in that mystery, Darkness, Sees all terrible things : so do we too, ev'n in the daylight, Ofttimes shudder at that, which is not more really alarming Than boys' fears, when they waken, and say some danger is o'er them. 1 8 8 TRANS LA TIONS. So this panic of mind, these clouds which gather around us, Fly not the bright sunbeam, nor the ivory shafts of the Day-star : Nature, rightly revealed, and the Keason only, dispel them. Now, how moving about do the prime material atoms Shape forth this thing and that thing; and, once shaped, how they resolve them; What power says unto each, This must be ; how an inherent Elasticity drives them about Space vagrantly on- ward ; — I shall unfold : thou simply give all thyself to my teaching. Matter mingled and massed into indissoluble union Does not exist. For we see how wastes each separate substance; So flow piecemeal away, with the length'ning cen- turies, all things. LUCRETIUS. 189 Till from our eye by degrees that old self passes, and is not. Still Universal Nature abides unchanged as aforetime. Whereof this is the cause. When the atoms part fi'om a substance, That suffers loss ; but another is elsewhere gaining an increase : So that, as one thing wanes, still a second bursts into blossom, Soon, in its turn, to be left. Thus draws this Universe always Gain out of loss ; thus live we mortals one on another. Bourgeons one generation, and one fades. Let but a few years Pass, and a race has arisen which was not : as in a racecourse. One hands on to another the burning torcli of Existence, 190 TRANSLATIONS. FEOM HOMER. IL. I. QING, oil daughter of heaven, of Peleus' son, of Achilles, Him whose terrible wrath brought thousand woes on Achaia. Many a stalwart soul did it hurl untimely to Hades, Souls of the heroes of old : and their bones lay strown on the sea-sands, Prey to the vulture and dog. Yet was Zeus ful- filling a purpose ; Since that far-off day, when in hot strife parted asunder Atreus' sceptred son, and the chos'n of heaven, Achilles. Say then, which of the gods bid arise up battle between them? HOMER. 191 Zeus' s and Leto's son, "With the king was kindled his anger: Then went sickness abroad, and the people died of the sickness : For that of Atreus' son had his priest been lightly entreated, Chryses, Apollo's priest. For he came to the ships of Achaia, Bearing a daughter's ransom, a sum not easy to number : And in his hand was the emblem of Him, far- darting Apollo, High on a sceptre of gold : and he made his prayer to the Grecians; Chiefly to Atreus' sons, twin chieftains, ordering armies. " Chiefs sprung of Atreus' loins ; and ye, brazen- greaved Achaians! ! So may the gods this day, the Olympus-palace d, grant you 192 TRANSLATIONS. Priam's city to raze, and return unscathed to your homesteads : Only my own dear daughter I ask; take ransom and yield her, Eev'rencing His great name, son of Zeus, far- darting Apollo." Then from the host of Achaians arose tumultuous answer : "Due to the priest is his honour; accept rich ransom and yield her." But there was war in the spirit of Atreus' son, Agamemnon ; Disdainful he dismissed him, a right stern fiat appending : — " "Woe be to thee, old man, if I find thee lingering longer, Yea or returning again, by the hollow ships of Achaians ! Scarce much then will avail thee the great god's sceptre and emblem. HOMER. 193 Her will I never release. Old age must first come upon her, In my own home, yea in Argos, afar from the land of her fathers. Following the loom and attending upon my bed. But avaunt thee — Go, and provoke not me, that thy way may be haply securer." These were the words of the king, and the old man feared and obeyed him : Sadly he strode by the shore of the myriad-melodied ocean. Long, lone-wandering there, did the sage of many a winter Pray to Apollo his Lord, son of golden-ringleted Leto. " Lord of the silver bow, whose arm girds Chryse and Cilia, — Cilia, loved of the gods, — and in might sways Tenedos, hearken! 194 TRANSLATIONS. Oh ! if, in days gone by, I have built from floor unto cornice, Smintheus, a fair shrine for thee ; or burned in the flames of the altar Fat flesh of bulls and of goats ; then do this thing that I ask thee : Hurl on the Greeks thy shafts, that thy servant's tears be avenged!" So did he pray, and his prayer reached the ears of Phoebus Apollo. Dark was the soul of the god as he moved from the heights of Olympus, Shouldering a bow, and a quiver on this side fast and on that side. Onward in anger he moved. And the arrows, stirred by the motion. Rattled and rang on his shoulder: he came, as Cometh the midnight. HOMER. 195 Hard by the ships he stayed him, and loosed one shaft from the bow-string ; Harshly the stretched string twanged of the bow all royally-radiant; First fell his wrath on the mules, and the swift- footed hound of the herdsman ; Afterward smote he the host. "With a rankling arrow he smote them Aye; and the morn and the even were red with the glare of the corpse-fires. Nine days over the host sped the shafts of the god : and the tenth day Dawned; and Achilles said, "Be a council called of the people." (Such thought came to his mind from the goddess, Hera the white-armed, Hera who loved those Greeks, and who saw them dying around her.) 1 9 6 TRANSLA TIONS. So when all were collected, and ranged in a solemn assembly, Straightway rose up amidst them and spake swift- footed Achilles. "Atreus' son! It were better, I think this day, that we wandered Back, re-seeking our homes, (if a warfare may be avoided) ; Now when the sword and the plague, these two things, fight with Achaians. Come, let us seek out now some priest, some seer amongst us. Tea or a dreamer of dreams — for a dream too cometh of God's hand — Whence we may learn what hath angered in this wise Phoebus Apollo. "Whether mayhap he reprove us of prayer or of oxen unofFered; HOMER. 197 "Whether, accepting the incense of lambs and of blemishless he-goats, Yet it be his high will to remove this misery from us." Down sat the prince : he had spoken. And uprose to them in answer Kalchas Thestor's son, high chief of the host of the augurs. "Well he knew what is present, what will be, and what was aforetime ; He into Ilion's harbour had led those ships of Achaia, All by the Power of the Art, which he gained from Phoebus Apollo. Thus then, kindliest-hearted, arose and spake he before them. "Peleus' son! Thou demandest, a man heaven- favor' d, an answer 1 9 8 TRANSLA TIONS. Touching the Great King's wrath, the afar-ofF- aiming Apollo: Therefore I lift up my voice. Swear thou to me, duly digesting All, — that with right good will, by word and by deed, thou wilt aid me. Surely the ire will awaken of one who mightily ruleth Over the Argives all : and upon him wait the Achaians : Aye is the battle the king's, when a poor man kindleth his anger : For, if but this one day he devour his indignation. Still on the morrow abideth his rage, that its end be accomplished. Deep in the soul of the king. So bethink thee, wilt thou deliver." Then unto him making answer arose swift- footed Achilles: HOMER. 199 "Fearing nought, up and open the god's -will, all that is told thee : For by Apollo's self, heaven's favorite, whom thou, Kalchas, Serving aright, to the armies aloud God-oracles op'nest : None — while that yet I breathe upon earth, and walk in the daylight — Shall, at the hollow ships, lift hand of oppression against thee. None out of all yon host — not and if thou said'st Agamemnon, "Who now sits in his glory, the topmost flower of the armies." Then did the blameless prophet at last wax valiant and answer : " Lo ! He doth not reprove us of prayer or of oxen unofFered ; 200 TRAiWSLATIOXS. But for his servant's sake, the disdained of king Agamemnon, (In that he loosed not his daughter, and gave not his ear to a ransom,) — Therefore the Far-darter sendeth, and yet shall send on us, evil. Nor shall he stay from the slaughter the hand that is heavy upon you, Till to her own dear father the bright-eyed maiden is yielded. No price asked, no ransom ; and ships bear hallowed oxen Towards Chryse :— then, it may be, will he shew mercy and hear us." These words said, sat he down. Then rose in his place and addressed them Atreus* warrior son, Agamemnon king of the nations, EOMER. 201 Sore grieved. Fury was working in each dark cell of his bosom, And in his eye was a glare as a burning fiery furnace : First to the priest he addressed him, his whole mien boding a mischief, "Priest of ill luck! jS'e'er heard I of aught good from thee, but evil. Still doth the evil thing unto thee seem sweeter of utt'rance; Leaving the thing which is good all unspoke, all unaccomplished, Lo ! this day to the people thou say'st, God-oracles opening, A^Tiat, but that / am the cause why the god's hand worketh against them, For that in sooth I rejected a ransom, aye and a rich one, 202 TRANSLATIONS. Brought for the girl Briseis. I did. For I chose to possess her, Rather, at home : less favour hath Clytemnestra before me, Clytemnestra my wife: unto her Briseis is equal, Equal in form and in stature, in mind and in womanly wisdom. Still, even thus, am I ready to yield her, so it be better : Better is saving alive, I hold, than slaying a nation. Meanwhile deck me a guerdon in her stead, lest of Achaians I should alone lack honour; an unmeet thing and a shameful. See all men, that my guerdon, I wot not whither it goeth." Then unto him made answer the swift-foot chieftain Achilles : HOMER. 203 k "Oh most vaunting of men, most gain-loving, off- spring of Atreus ! How shall the lords of Achaia bestow fresh guerdon [ upon thee? Surely we know not yet of a treasure piled in abundance : That which the sacking of cities hath brought to us, all hath an owner. And it were all unfit that the host make re- distribution. Yield thou the maid to the god. So threefold surely and fourfold All we Greeks will requite thee, should that day dawn, when the great gods Grant that of yon proud walls not one stone rest on another." TIIK END. Cambritrg^ : ^ JONATHAN PALMKR, PRINTER, SIU.NKV STIiKF.T. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles Tk;o book io DUE on the last date stamped below. **;. iD. 0/?4 m L9-42»i-8,'49(B5573)444 PR Calverley - ■lik09 — verses and tran s^j C2ve lations . JC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 111 -AA 000 366 986 Anf; 2 mc — >^^ — : m kh09 C2ve