EIS Serre 23 i! t + SY a >. bai ster nre: yA : ae ’ vu : 9 3.1 | Ne 4 i; / uy 7 Ts! | ‘awh ae ; Pa ath f 5 NEW ELEGANT EXTRACTS. POETRY. VOL. VI. MAhittingham’s Evition. e ap tt te Le r ELEGANT EXTRACTS FROM THE MOST EMINENT BRITISH POETS. PARYT=x 1. Translations. To guard his slaughter’d friend Aineas flies, His spear extending where the carcass lies. p. 5. Chiswick : PRINTED BY C. WHITTINGHAM j FOR CHARLES S. ARNOLD, TAVISTOCK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON. 1824, NEW ELEGANT EXTRACTS. A UNIQUE SELECTION, MORAL, INSTRUCTIVE, AND ENTERTAINING, FROM THE MOST EMINENT British YBorts, and Woetical Translators. BY R. A. DAVENPORT, ESQ. EDITOR OF WHITTINGHAM’S EDITION.OF THE BRITISH POETS. IN SIX VOLUMES. VI. TRANSLATIONS FROM VARIOUS LANGUAGES, CHISWICK: PRINTED BY C. AND C. WHITTINGHAM. PUBLISHED BY CARPENTER AND SON, OLD BOND STREET ; T. HURST AND CO. ST. PAUL’S CHURCH YARD j N. HAILES, PICCADILLY , Je POOLE, NEWGATE STREET ; G. COWIE AND CO. AND R- JENNINGS, POULTRY ; AND C. $8. ARNOLD, TAVISTOCK STREET. M DCCC XxVII. = "hy epee ee ae rs * b- > * te ’ Lid (* _ 1: aa | a “ a F oe le e De 4 7 igs at Cote, | 5 es —_ cs @ ae e eaten - ye <—. ) ee ef arta co ae : ee i at ar on a . , se aie nie Ab Sa : oe . f 2 ae ~ . ’ : j Won BD ne Go #274) we 4 Y's > . 4 é “ bl & ‘ <, . ; ms ee ey ee te At Hassle areas ey Ly as CONTENTS. PART XI. Translations. THE Combat of Diomed with Aineas and Panda- TUS 00006 pba benevenvevettecste Sdectocseedsescuese Pope The Descent of Juno and Minerva ....eveeee Pope. The Parting of Hector and Andromache....Pope. The Speech of Achilles .........scesesccerecese Pope. Description of Juno...........6+ ee ccevesesseseet OMe, The Shield of Achilles......... sebodecteeusseees Pope. The Death of Achilles ........c...csccsececeves Pope. The Reply of Proteus .......... evewene cages Fenton. The Grotto of Calypso ......e.seeees waa cb Othe. Pope. The Palace of Alcinous.........ss.seeeseeees+ Pope. Description of Scylla ......sseeseeeesereee- + Broome, The Death of Argus......... Wrbdevecsedeetedses Pope. The Revealing of Ulysses .....e0+.seeseeee-- Pope, The Creation of Pandora .........eseeseee .»+-Llton. The Death of the Titans....., ocdbisceviscstes Elton. The Overthrow of Typhoeus .......eseeesesees Elton. The Love of Medea......... bin eewace esseeeePreston, The Reward of the Good......... Bitisestecs. West. To the Lyre -.....cese scocveevevevenes viewer nr eeon W 6S€, Martial Elegy .......scssessecsseneveeenes es Campbell, VOL, VI. a SP ft fs, G44 rs a wa 52 ii CONTENTS. The Cretan Warrior ............+.++0.+.Dr. Leyden. Odes— While we LAvere, &KC. oc cccesseee de Moore. Best of painters!........... aeecah aa vid Elton Cupid once upon a bed.......... T. Moore. Fly not because revolving time......... M. Sad Niobe, in cold despair.............- M. Bless’d as the immortal Gods...A. Philips. Hymn to Venus .......+ Senses sup means A. Philips. The Despairing Lover.......ee.seeeeee oe eS The Honey Stealer......... Re iat .-..Polwhele. Hymn to the Evening Star...........00 MM. Cupid and the Fowler.........c0cces.esees :Pobohale: REVUE Sp enenahess scenes Byeaaase Soabaaets Serb ge cents M. The Stray Cupid.......... selevbeseccecssie: Polwhele. The Sackuig: of a Cityss. isi cecdevessddd. dass Potter. Electra taking the Urn of Orestes .......... Bland. The Farewell of Admetus to Alcestis ...... Bland. A Chorus...... Saeaupeaean ere ae Johnson. Reproof of Discontent... ............ shane Bland. The Complaint of Danae ............ceceees .. Bland. Hymn to Harmodius and Aristogeiton. F’, Laurence. Elymn,.to Fiaalty oaess-cassecnoosrcevtedevi nose Bland. ‘On a Daughter who died young...... Fone ena Bland. The Offering of a deserted Lover................ M. Beauty compared with Flowers........... aveawen M. Remembrance and Forgetfulness............ Bland. A Mother on the Death of her Son..... Wakefield. Homes stitvees sexs. subi tepsea caida ne ak ..-. Bland. Anacreontic...... daqassanatinanrian tearevebeieen pe M. ComjtigaliA fection >... s..05 ssasowrhadene cab cagies Bland. On the Death of Heliodora........... F’, Laurence. Music and Beauty.........sccecseesecees ARne FRAY Fe Bpitaph, vx. 2-0-0>9 RTI RP ie ae ‘cadyea ness bis M. CONTENTS. iii Page Love unextinguished by Age ..... euvveaevawwess MM, ) OF Funeral Honours........ cabarves encnevivesdeds Bland. 98 The Hope of Scag anaeaae Finebababuiny M. 98 Epigram.. owevaevcedsonsasce .F’, Laurence. 99 Love and Wi ENG, on ocbasy scanty yeewnresecstavtec'e dane M, 99 The Condition of primitive Mankind...C.A. Elton. 100 The Power of Conscience..... Rev. F. Hodgson. 103 To the Peninsula of Sirmio....... oC. A. Elton. 104 Dirge at his Brother’s Tomb....Rev. F. Hodgson. 105 To Lesbia.......... wwtrawe addevsevaocess F’, Laurence. 105 Pastoral Elegy.......... wdeswnneasnaase C..A. Elton. 106 IO Nereis ois ods ctaredee seus sseseseseOe A. Elton. 109 The Praise of a Country L Life. .ccovesereese Sotheby. 111 The Coreyrian Swain.. sessvcssecessOtheby. 114 Orpheus and Eurydice. ts aseceeventgsennwerys Sotheby. 115 The Vision of Hector............ .- Symmons. 119 The Death of Priam...... qevepiaeee ... Symmons, 120 BORING stata hua estleavedvyeederes eres Symmons. 122 mae Daath Of Dido srosssdascesvceencek es Symmons. 123 The Entrance to the Shades ...... ehcvoes Symmons, 131 ARE CET OS ois sic vcatesene SS ate ieadeconeesnes Symmons, 134 BING oabgc wn desdan vevpreacntrenecns a ee Symmons. 137 The Death of Lausus and Mezentius...Symmons. 139 Odes—I hate the pomp......... Rev, F, Hodgson. 145 Why fall those tears ....... W. B. Stevens. 145 What years from Inachus divide. Wrangham. 147 Like the first mortals ..............rancis. 148 WORT incbivorsdiudesiaces ie weohess ds esncobarecek Featon, - L5Q The Fable of Dryope.....ccoscosescescearssesss Pope. 152 The House of Sleep .........+. Sauea earakeos Dryden, 156 Conscience. ...seceeresegeseerereneees eases .... Howes, 158 To-morrow...... erseccerenence ot hiceas toiesvn bas Howes. 159 Avarice and Luxury...........s0« ph ie pes Howes. 160 The Reply of Cato to Labienus ..........+..: Rowe. 162 On the Girl Erotion.............0....».C. A. Elton. 165 iv CONTENTS. To a Fop.. pAppeenas daa daciell: Soak C. A. Elton. Epigrams... nnacnaepeenna tt Rev, F. Hodgson. On the Mansoleum al Augustus sssccscsens Bland. Pepi grata cisgtsnds wo wsasarasaann iotingeh Ga an'ein'e oa Hathed. Lines from Peincniid socsesseeeeedtev. EF. Hodgson. The Story of Chorabus ......cccceccssessseeens Pope. To Sleeps ssese.. Wis Adee seconeeeteev. F. Hodgson. Emptiness of Ambition.......c...seees C. A. Elton. The Impotency of Revenge, and Liste heoine Of the: Wicked 5... csecqressanmsias ».eeC. A. Elton. Apostrophe .......4. enesvenn sens vomeson> nace gas Owen. Hasestisec), Zines Pa ieehsvcuemue asndoananslin thagteegits Mlepiae Ode cen casonavecdan alecessesseaDre) Leyden. Venus Anadyomene.......s0 eaten bap Anonymous. EO Mr ANARSE ys scnannrceoenniunyace®aree Anonymous. Proserpine at her Loom........ aavtepittnte ct Polwhele. The Reception of Proserpine............- Polwhele. The contented old Man........... Rev. F. Hodgson. On the Marriage of Honorius......... Anonymous. On’a, Qaletshife. siccacicnssaieete seooeeC. A. Elton. Page 166 167 168 169 169 170 173 175 177 180 181 183 184 185 186 187 190 191 192 CONTENTS, PART XII. Translations. ODE to Jehovah.....s..cecceresssees 2... Dr. Leyden. Bele OV 63. ki isdeiocsns dananons Montgomery. The Battle of Sabla.......... eamohin swetees Carlyle. Bepitap he. vg itecscvesoressecs ete nsesaasees J. Grant. To a Lady weeping .......... Sivewaee vee eves Carlyle. To the Courier Dove...........00s0e00s Dr. Leyden. To a Female Cupbearer ,.........seceeseeee Carlyle. Ode—Sweet maid.......s..cceeeeeees Sir W. Jones. Ode—Oh! I have borne............. Dr. Leyden. In Praise of Wine......... SeNesapvesswes Dr. Leyden. The Ass and the Stag.......seccecesereeees Hoppner. Inevitable Fate ......cccovssessevesseeseveede Grants On the Omnipresence of the Deity ..... bos be NORE Ode—That cheek which boasts...... Dr. Leyden, Song—Sweet as the Rose.......... Sir W. Jones. Epigram .......sss00. sae benveectouhsns oes Anonymous, Westerdays. ari .ercccsecess Kavcodineswtians luce Fox. Ode—Hear! how the nightingales...Sir W. Jones. The Cloud Messenger.............+4 H. H. Wilson. Description of a Hindu Beauty........ Broughton. Verses written after being at Sea for the first DUNG 450 ss pa0 0d ccervecevouweqususs eooeee Dr. Leyden. Ode—Behold where yon blue rivulet. Sir W. Jones. Hanting Song..........+0. eemesocesacecosces T. Swift. A Love Song Swen adeu will S Jonas eG Tesis Lord Byron. The Renovation of the by Ce eee Mathias. Song of Harold the Hardy.....Hon. W. Herbert. Ravers: Hoh} PiesiswtttAloe Vays .M, G. Lewis. TOUSPring eve ins cesivervesescveccesaralVe S. Walker. Page 193 196 198 199 199 200 200 201 203 204 204 209 209 210 211 212 213 213 216 224 224 227 228 228 230 232 234 235 Vi CONTENTS. On Fortitude........ alah aimee rene ha W.S. Walker. To a Girl beloved..e.......lesevesess W. S. Walker. Pleasure and Friendship ....... oe W. S. Walker. Hymn—Hail, uncreated Being.. Hon. W, Herbert. Hymn—With heartfelt contrite cries. G. H. Drummond. Song—lIt ne’er can be..........G@. H. Drummond. FinlandsSong: oid. cade skco snes, denote Anonymous. De athiyeesegeciimrecgaasavcanaaknensmaiarkin Bowring. The Ass and the Nightingale, pigindn dae .... Bowring. DHS V.GWyiaas o05-be'-onancansaanananaemebed ... Bowring. Song— While honouring...........:006 -oe- Bowring. The Triumphs of Owen. ....cccconssocspende . Gray. PWM OT ase ese oka doses ses ncaesn vabiaal panes Mathias. SORA SMRORID. case cays ss ore ne tpianes eoatels -Merivale. MOTO lee Grcaes vas ccvndsonsssepeesscnger Miss Brooke. Whe Hermit .)....000s02rscevessscesnvcoandes Sotheby. The Wild Huntsman............s.000 Sir W. Scott. Illusions of Youth ......... ede cn oud ves bembaubial J.B. Stanzas.to a, Valley......ccssoessense Ann Plumptre. Tora Violet....%3. my er averasaget nea miteet Russell. he Pisherman tio pasbsnsnnzansananevs M. G. Lewis. Stanzas—I found the warrior......... Anonymous. Pro RatriatSloti:S,. sis -naagecnedearind 4nonymous. The Lover to his Mistress...... rey Campbell. To a Mourmer..........c006: sivdeide Snds sen en DOWLERGs The House of Sleep........ pisaneseastts alma Hoole. The Death of Zerbino..........0000. ‘snnnsacnold oale. The Fall of Rodomont........... ...sseseeeee Hoole. Description of Armida ........++- Rev, J. H. Hunt. The Palace and Garden of Armida,. Rev. J. H. Hunt. The Supplication of Armida....Rev. J. H. Hunt. Rinaldo in the Enchanted Forest. 281 285 287 291 Rev. J. H. Hunt. 294 CONTENTS. vil : Page The Reconciliation of Rinaldo and Armida. Rev. J. H. Hunt. 300 Time ...... ti octet sasbesstuasccpescvcncee Anonymous. 304 Ode to the Fountain of Valchiusa...Sir W. Jones. 307 Re nonetiiy. ai Soc eee Anonymous, 309 we Sule wis .. Avis we eeaiteee F. Laurence. 310 BRO PrOWIet sy ekse sis aseesinntevecs F. Laurence. 312 Song—Yield to the apheres ub ieee .... Anonymous, 314 Sonnet—Ye gales that gently fan...F. Laurence. 314 Sonnet—I saw the eternal God...... Montgomery. 315 Sonnet—As some fond mother....... P. Laurence. 316 Endymion Sleeping ................00005 |. Anonymous. 316 To Sleep...... D .cbvvctve ereve see viva pwoceay Roscoe. 317 ED ERIN Sy 0aT ds cdo A Danynsiewaips tase abe tehens G. M. 318 CaNnGonete ioc se << beta iH INGE E Le Roscoe, 318 Song—Fair eyes! .........0...s000 cones Anonymous, 319 Ode—While on bright Tayo’ s banks......Russell. 321 Love at first Sight..............0 .... Lord Holland. 323 Zara’s Earrings ..........+. ib oesle dues se Lockhart. 324 Romance ....... ..... Basia ees Hon. W. Herbert. 325 Lines—As tlie deep river swift....... valede a hea IM: YY f Canzon—O weep not thus...... Lord Strangford. 328 Ode to Ines de Guete............ Lord Strangford. 329 Sonnet— Parent of good!...... Hon. W. Herbert. 331 Sonnets—The sun has chased away......... T.Y. 332 Zephyr returns...... Hon. W. Herbert. 332 To go, and yet to linger....... sucka t 2:00 As when the mother ............+0+ T. Y. 333 The Spirit of the Cape ...........-...000. ..».- Mickle. 334 Pine TSN OF LIVE, co anes fo ccssveats thc enis nese Mickle. 338 Ode—Ever gliding to the sea,...Hon. W. Herbert. 344 Stanzas —I saw the virtuous man, Lord Strangford. 346 Sonnets from Camoens ..........se.sseeees Southey. 347 Canzonets from Camoens........Lord Strangford, 349 Vill CONTENTS. Page Sonnet—High in the front......... .-- Dr. Leyden, 351 The Lay of the little Bird............. ensedens Way. 352 The Norman Bachelor,,....scccccovssesssecsees Way. 356 The Land of Cokaigne...........cceseeeee reeves Way, 358 Stanzas—Compass’d with warriors... Anonymous. 359 Lines—Not rich viands, northe cup... Anonymous, 361 Phe Complaint. 25.5..5445. 08.0080 ‘ ee 362 Verses to my Firstborn...... eeBite ecb ct eS R. 363 Ode to April......... iwrbesitiounes tae’ nel pre ymous. 365 The Mountebank ..............06. R. A. Davenport. 368 Ode—Why dost thou tremble...R. A. Davenport. 369 Ode on the Return of Spring........ Anonymous. 370 Ode to M. Menard............... R.A. Davenport. 371 LEMURS css chee es iis ia saenaves R. A. Davenport. 373 The Abbe L’Attaignant’s Farewell. R. A. Davenport. 374 Song—Ah! say, the fair Louisa cried. Charlotte Smith. 374 The Emblem of Love............2. A. Davenport. 375 The Rose se cbisssbevesevesccccssssesensese As Hltons 376 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. —_—__—— PART XI. Translations. THE COMBAT OF DIOMED WITH AENEAS AND PANDARUS, Wirn deep concern divine AZneas view’d The foe prevailing, and his friends pursued ; Through the thick storm of singing spears he flies, Exploring Pandarus with careful eyes ; At length he found Lycaon’s mighty son, To wlom the chief of Venus’ race begun : ‘ Where, Pandarus, are all thy honours now, Thy winged arrows and unerring bow, Thy matchless skill, thy yet unrival’d fame, And boasted glory of the Lycian name? O, pierce that mortal! if we mortal call That wondrous force by which whole armies fall; Or god incensed, who quits the distant skies To punish Troy for slighted sacrifice : (Which oh avert from our unhappy state ; For what so dreadful as celestial hate ?) VOL, VI. B 2 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pooks Whoe’er he be, propitiate Jove with prayer ; If man, destroy ; if god, entreat to spare.’ To him the Lycian—‘ Whom your eyes behold, If right I judge, is Diomed the bold: Such coursers whirl him o’er the dusty field, So towers his helmet, and so flames his shield. If ’tis a god, he wears that chief’s disguise ; Or if that chief, some guardian of the skies, Involved in clouds, protects him in the fray, And turns unseen the frustrate dart away. I wing’d an arrow, which not idly fell, The stroke had fix’d him to the gates of hell; And, but some god, some angry god withstands, His fate was due to these unerring hands. Skill’d in the bow, on foot I sought the war, Nor join’d swift horses to the rapid car. Ten polish’d chariots I possess’d at home, And still they grace Lycaon’s princely dome: There veil’d in spacious coverlets they stand; And twice ten coursers wait their lord’s command. The good old warrior bade me trust to these, When first for Troy I sail’d the sacred seas ; In fields, aloft, the whirling car to guide, And through the ranks of death triumphant ride. But vain with youth, and yet to thrift inclined, J heard his counsels with unheedful mind, And thought the steeds (your large supplies un- known) Might fail of forage in the straiten’d town: So took my bow and pointed darts in hand, And left the chariots in my native land. ‘ Too late, O friend! my rashness I deplore ; These shafts, once fatal, carry death no more. Tydeus’ and Atreus’ sons their points have found, And undissembled gore pursued the wound. TRANSLATIONS, 3 In vain they bled: this unavailing bow Serves, not to slaughter, but provoke the foe. In evil hour these bended horns I strung, And seized the quiver where it idly hung. Cursed be the fate that sent me to the field Without a warrior’s arms, the spear and shield! If e’er with life I quit the Trojan plain, If e’er I see my spouse and sire again, This bow, unfaithful to my glorious aims, Broke by my hand, shall feed the blazing flames.’ To whom the leader of the Dardan race— ‘ Be calm, nor Phoebus’ honour’d gift disgrace. The distant dart be praised, though here we need The rushing chariot and the bounding steed. Against yon hero let us bend our course, And, hand to hand, encounter force with force. Now mount my seat, and from the chariot’s height Observe my father’s steeds, renown’d in fight ; Practised alike to turn, to stop, to chase, To dare the shock, or urge the rapid race: Secure with these, through fighting fields we go; Or safe to Troy, if Jove assist the foe. Haste, seize the whip, and snatch the guiding rein: The warrior’s fury let this arm sustain ; Or, if to combat thy bold heart incline, Take thou the spear, the chariot’s care be mine.’ ‘ O prince! (Lycaon’s valiant son replied) As thine the steeds, be thine the task to guide. The horses, practised to their lord’s command, Shall hear the rein, and answer to thy hand; But if, unhappy, we desert the fight, Thy voice alone can animate their flight: Else shall our fates be number’d with the dead, And these, the victor’s prize, in triumph led. 4 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XI. Thine be the guidance then: with spear and shield Myself will charge this terror of the field.’ And now both heroes mount the glittering car ; The bounding coursers rush amidst the war. Their fierce approach bold Sthenelus espied, Who thus, alarm’d, to great Tydides cried— ‘O friend! two chiefs of force immense I see, Dreadful they come, and bend their rage on thee : Lo the brave heir of old Lycaon’s line, And great Aineas, sprung from race divine ! Enough is given to fame. Ascend thy car; And save a life, the bulwark of our war.’ At this the hero cast a gloomy look, Fix’d on the chief with scorn ; and thus he spoke— ‘ Me dost thou bid to shun the coming fight? Me wouldst thou move to base inglorious flight? Know, ’tis not honest in my soul to fear, Nor was Tydides born to tremble here. I hate the cumbrous chariot’s slow advance, And the long distance of the flying lance ; But while my nerves are strong, my force entire, Thus front the foe, and emulate my sire. Nor shall yon steeds, that fierce to fight convey Those threatening heroes, bear them both away ; One chief at least beneath this arm shall die; So Pallas tells me, and forbids to fiy. But if she dooms, and if no god withstand, That both shall fall by one victorious hand. Then heed my words; my horses here detain, Fix’d to the chariot by the straiten’d rein ; Swift to Acneas’ empty seat proceed, And seize the coursers of etherial breed ; The race of those, which once the thundering god For ravish’d Ganymede on 'Tros bestow’d, TRANSLATIONS. 5 The best that e’er on earth’s broad surface run, Beneath the rising or the setting sun. Hence great Anchises stole a breed, unknown By mortal mares, from fierce Laomedon : Four of this race his ample stalls contain, And two transport AEneas o’er the plain. These, were the rich immortal prize our own, Through the wide world should make our glory known.’ Thus while they spoke, the foe came furious on, _ And stern Lycaon’s warlike race begun: .[sail’d, ‘Prince, thou art met. Though late in vain as- The spear: may enter where the arrow fail’d.’ He said, then shook the ponderous lance, and flung ; On his broad shield the sounding weapon rung, Pierced the tough orb, and in his cuirass hung. ‘Hebleeds! the pride of Greece! (the boaster cries) Our triumph now the mighty warrior lies!’ ‘ Mistaken vaunter! (Diomed replied) Thy dart has err’d, and now my spear be tried; Ye scape not both; one, headlong from his car, With hostile blood shall glut the god of war.’ He spoke, and rising hurl’d his forceful dart, Which, driven by Pallas, pierced a vital part; Full in his face it enter’d, and betwixt The nose and eyeball the proud Lycian fix’d; Crash’d all his jaws, and cleft the tongue within, Till the bright point look’d out beneath the chin. Headlong he falls, his helmet knocks the ground : Earth groans beneath him, and his arms resound ; The starting coursers tremble with affright ; The soul indignant seeks the realms of night. To guard his slaughter’d friend, Aneas flies, His spear extending where the carcass lies ; 6 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. Watchful he wheels, protects it every way, As the grim lion stalks around his prey. O’er the fallen trunk his ample shield display’d, He hides the hero with his mighty shade, And threats aloud: the Greeks with longing eyes Behold at distance, but forbear the prize. Then fierce Tydides stoops; and from the fields, Heaved with vast force, a rocky fragment wields. Not two strong men the’ enormous weight could raise, Such men as live in these degenerate days: He swung it round; and, gathering strength to throw, Discharged the ponderous ruin at the foe. Where to the hip the’ inserted thigh unites, Full on the bone the pointed marble lights ; Through both the tendons broke the rugged stone, And stripp’d the skin, and crack’d the solid bone. Sunk on his knees, and staggering with his pains, His falling bulk his bended arm sustains ; Lost in a dizzy mist the warrior lies ; A sudden cloud comes swimming o’er his eyes. There the brave chief, who mighty numbers sway'd, Oppress’d had sunk to death’s eternal shade ; But heavenly Venus mindful of the love She bore Anchises in the’ Idean grove, His danger views with anguish and despair, And guards her offspring with a mother’s care. About her much loved son her arms she throws, Her arms whose whiteness match the falling snows. Screen’d from the foe behind her shining veil, The swords wave harmless, and the javelins fail: Safe through the rushing horse, and feather’d flight Of sounding shafts, she bears him from the fight. HOMER. POPE. TRANSLATIONS. 7 THE DESCENT OF JUNO AND MINERVA. THE carnage Juno from the skies survey’d, And, touch’d with grief, bespoke the blue-eyed maid— ‘Oh, sight accursed! shall faithless Troy prevail, And shall our promise to our people fail? How vain the word to Menelaus given By Jove’s great daughter and the queen of heaven, Beneath his arms that Priam’s towers should fall, _ If warring gods for ever guard the wall? Mars, red with slaughter, aids our hated foes: Haste, let us arm, and force with force oppose !’ She spoke; Minerva burns to meet the war : And now. heaven’s empress calls her blazing car. At her command rush forth the steeds divine ; Rich with immortal gold their trappings shine, Bright Hebe waits; by Hebé, ever young, The whirling wheels are to the chariot hung. On the bright axle turns the bidden wheel Of sounding brass; the polish’d axle, steel. Eight brazen spokes in radiant order flame ; The circles gold, of uncorrupted frame, Such as the heavens produce :, and round the gold Two brazen rings of work divine were roll’d. The bossy naves of solid silver shone ; Braces of gold suspend the moving throne : The car, behind, an arching figure bore ; The bending concave form’d an arch before. Silver the beam, the’ extended yoke was gold, And golden reins the’ immortal coursers hold. 8 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. Herself, impatient, to the ready car The coursers joins, and breathes revenge and war. Pallas disrobes ; her radiant veil untied, With flowers adorn’d, with art diversified (The labour’d veil her heavenly fingers wove), Flows on the pavement of the court of Jove. Now heaven’s dread arms her mighty limbs invest, Jove’s cuirass blazes on her ample breast; Deck’d in sad triumph for the mournful field," O’er her broad shoulders hangs his horrid shield, Dire, black, tremendous! Round the marginroll’d, A fringe of serpents hissing guards the gold: Here all the terrors of grim War appear, Here rages Force, here tremble Flight and Fear, Here storm’d Contention, and here Fury frown’d, And the dire orb portentous Gorgon crown’d. The massy golden helm she next assumes, That dreadful nods with four o’ershading plumes ; So vast, the broad circumference contains A hundred armies on a hundred plains. The goddess thus the’ imperial car ascends ; Shook by her arm the mighty javelin bends, Ponderous and huge; that when her fury burns, Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o’erturns. Swift at the scourge the’ etherial coursers fly, While the smooth chariot cuts the liquid sky. Heaven’s gates spontaneous opens to the powers, Heaven’s golden gates, kept by the winged Hours ; Commission’d in alternate watch they stand, The sun’s bright portals and the skies command, Involve in clouds the’ eternal gates of day, Or the dark barrier roll with ease away. The sounding hinges ring: on either side The gloomy volumes, pierced with light, divide. TRANSLATIONS. 9 The chariot mounts, where deep in ambient skies, Confused, Olympus’ hundred heads arise ; Where far apart the thunderer fills his throne, O’er all the gods superior and alone. There with her snowy hand the queen restrains The fiery steeds, and thus to Jove complains— ‘ O sire! can no resentment touch thy soul? Can Mars rebel, and does no thunder roll ? What lawless rage on yon forbidden plain! What rash destruction! and what heroes slain! Venus, and Phoebus with the dreadful bow, Smile on the slaughter, and enjoy my woe. Mad, furious power! whose unrelenting mind No god can govern, and no justice bind. Say, mighty father! shall we scourge his pride, And drive from fight the’ impetuous homicide?’ . To whom, assenting, thus the thunderer said— ‘Go! and the great Minerva be thy aid. To tame the monster-god Minerva knows, And oft afflicts his brutal breast with woes.’ He said; Saturnia, ardent to obey, Lash’d her white steeds along the’ aerial way. Swift down the steep of heaven the chariot rolls, Between the’ expanded earth and starry poles. Far as a shepherd, from some point on high, O’er the wide main extends his boundless eye ; Through such a space of air, with thundering sound, At every leap the’ immortal coursers bound: Troy now they reach’d, and touch’d those banks divine, Where silver Simois and Scamander join. There Juno stopp’d, and (her fair steeds unloosed) Of air condensed a vapour circumfused : VOL. VI. c 10 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. PHI; For these, impregnate with celestial dew On Simois’ brink ambrosial herbage grew. Thence to relieve the fainting Argive throng, Smooth as the sailing doves they glide along. HOMER, POPE. THE PARTING OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE, Hector, this heard, return’d without delay ; Swift through the town he trod his former way, Through streets of palaces, and walks of state ; And met the mourner at the Scean gate. With haste to meet him sprung the joyful fair, His blameless wife, Aétion’s wealthy heir: (Cilician Thebé great Aétion sway’d, And Hippoplacus’ wide extended shade) The nurse stood near, in whose embraces press’d His only hope hung smiling at her breast, Whom each soft charm and early grace adorn, Fair as the new-born star that gilds the morn. To this loved infant Hector gave the name Scamandrius, from Scamander’s honour’d stream ; Astyanax the Trojans call’d the boy, From his great Father, the defence of Troy. Silent the warrior smiled, and pleased resign’d To tender passions all his mighty mind ; His beauteous princess cast a mournful look, Hung on his hand, and then dejected spoke ; Her bosom labour’d with a boding sigh, And the big tear stood trembling in her eye. ‘Too daring prince! ah, whither dost thou run? Ah, too forgetful of thy wife and son! - TRANSLATIONS. i And think’st thou not how wretched we shall be, A widow I, a helpless orphan he! For sure such courage length of life denies, And thou must fall thy virtue’s sacrifice. Greece in her single heroes strove in vain ; Now hosts oppose thee, and thou must be slain! O grant me, gods! ere Hector meets his doom, All [ can ask of Heaven, an early tomb! So shall my days in one sad tenour run, And end with sorrows as they first begun. No parent now remains my griefs to share, No father’s aid, no mother’s tender care. The fierce Achilles wrapp’d our walls in fire, Laid Thebé waste, and slew my warlike sire ! His fate compassion in the victor bred ; Stern as he was, he yet revered the dead, His radiant arms preserved from hostile spoil, And laid him decent on the funeral pile ; Then raised a mountain where his bones were burn’d: The mountain-nymphs the rural tomb adorn’d, Jove’s silvan daughters bade their elms bestow A barren shade, and in his honour grow. ‘ By the same arm my seven brave brothers fell ; In one sad day beheld the gates of hell: While the fat herds and snowy flocks they fed, Amid their fields the hapless heroes bled ! My mother lived to bear the victor’s bands, The queen of Hippoplacia’s silvan lands: -Redeem’d too late, she scarce beheld again Her pleasing empire and her native plain, When ah! oppress’d by life-consuming woe, She fell a victim to Diana’s bow. ‘Yet while my Hector still survives, I see My father, mother, brethren, all in thee: 12 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, Xs, Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, all Once more will perish, if my Hector fall. Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share : O, prove a husband’s and a father’s care! That quarter most the skilful Greeks annoy, Where yon wild fig-trees join the wall of Troy: Thou, from this tower defend the’ important post; There Agamemnon points his dreadful host, . That pass Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain, And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train. Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have given, Or led by hopes, or dictated from Heaven. Let others in the field their arms employ, But stay my Hector here, and guard his Troy.’ The chief replied—‘ That post shall be my care, Not that alone, but all the works of war. How would the sons of Troy, in arms renown’d, And Troy’s proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground, Attaint the lustre of my former name, Should Hector basely quit the field of fame! My early youth was bred to martial pains, My soul impels me to the’ embattled plains ; Let me be foremost to defend the throne, And guard my father’s glories and my own. ‘Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates; (How my heart trembles while my tongue relates!) The day when thou, imperial Troy! must bend, And see thy warriors fall, thy glories end. And yet no dire presage so wounds my mind, My mother’s death, the ruin of my kind, Not Priam’s hoary hairs defiled with gore, Not all my brothers gasping on the shore ; As thine, Andromache! thy griefs I dread ; I see thee trembling, weeping, captive led! ; TRANSLATIONS. 13 In Argive looms our battles to design, And woes, of which so large a part was thine! To bear the victor’s hard commands, or bring The weight of waters from Hyperia’s spring. There, while you groan beneath the load of life, They cry, ‘“‘ Behold the mighty Hector’s wife!” Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to see, Imbitters all thy woes by naming me. The thoughts of glory past, and present shame, A thousand griefs shall waken at the name! May I lie cold before that dreadful day, Press’d with a load of monumental clay ! Thy Hector, wrapp’d in everlasting sleep, Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee weep.’ Thus having spoke, the’ illustrious chief of Troy Stretch’d his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy. The babe clung crying to his nurse’s breast, Scared at the dazzling helm and nodding crest. With secret pleasure each fond parent smiled, And Hector hasted to relieve his child ; The glittering terrors from his brows unbound, And placed the beaming helmet on the ground: Then kiss’d the child, and, lifting high in air, Thus to the gods preferr’d a father’s prayer— ‘O thou! whose glory fills the’ etherial throne, And all ye deathless powers! protect my son! Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown, To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown, Against his country’s foes the war to wage, And rise the Hector of the future age! So when triumphant from successful toils Of heroes slain he bears the reeking spoils, Whole hosts may hail him with deserved acclaim, And say, “ This chief transcends his father’s fame ;” | 14 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. While pleased, amidst the general shouts of Troy, His mother’s conscious heart o’erflows with joy.’ He spoke, and fondly gazing on her charms, Restored the pleasing burden to her arms ; Soft on her fragrant breast the babe she laid, Hush’d to repose, and with a smile survey’d. The troubled pleasure soon chastised by fear, She mingled with a smile a tender tear. The soften’d chief with kind compassion view’d, And dried the falling drops, and thus pursued— ‘ Andromache! my soul’s far better part, Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart? No hostile hand can antedate my doom, Till fate condemns me to the silent tomb. Fix’d is the term of all the race of earth ; And such the hard condition of our birth ; No force can then resist, no flight can save, All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. No more—but hasten to thy tasks at home, There guide the spindle, and direct the loom: Me glory summons to the martial scene, The field of combat is the sphere for men. Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim, The first in danger as the first in fame.’ Thus having said, the glorious chief resumes His towery helmet, black with shading plumes. His princess parts, with a prophetic sigh, Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye That stream’d at every look: then, moving slow, Sought her own palace, and indulged her woe. HOMER, POPE. TRANSLATIONS. 15 THE SPEECH OF ACHILLES. THEN thus the goddess-born—‘ Ulysses, hear A faithful speech that knows nor art nor fear : What in my secret soul is understood, My tongue shall utter, and my deeds make good. Let Greece then know my purpose [ retain: Nor with new treaties vex my peace in vain. Who dares think one thing, and another tell, My heart detests him as the gates of hell. ‘ Then thus in short my fix’d resolves attend, Which nor Atrides nor his Greeks can bend ; Long toils, long perils in their cause I bore, But now the’ unfruitful glories charm no more. Fight or not fight, a like reward we claim, The wretch and hero find their prize the same ; Alike regretted in the dust he lies, Who yields ignobly, or who bravely dies. Of all my dangers, all my glorious pains, A life of labours, lo! what fruit remains ? As the bold bird her helpless young attends, From danger guards them, and from want defends ; In search of prey she wings the spacious air, And with the’ untasted food supplies her care ; For thankless Greece such hardships have I braved, Her wives, her infants, by my labours saved ; Long sleepless nights in heavy arms I stood, And sweat laborious days in dust and blood. 1 sack’d twelve ample cities on the main, And twelve lay smoking on the Trojan plain: 16 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. ine. & Then at Atrides’ haughty feet were laid The wealth I gather’d, and the spoils I made. Your mighty monarch these in peace possess’d ; Some few my soldiers had, himself the rest. Some present too to every prince was paid ; And every prince enjoys the gift he made: I only must refund, of all his train ; See what preeminence our merits gain! My spoil alone his greedy soul delights ; My spouse alone must bless his lustful nights : The woman, let him (as he may) enjoy ; But what’s the quarrel then of Greece to Troy ? Whatto these shores the’ assembled nations draws, What calls for vengeance, but a woman’s cause ? Are fair endowments and a beauteous face Beloved by none but those of Atreus’ race? The wife whom choice and passion doth approve, Sure every wise and worthy man will love. Nor did my fair one less distinction claim ; Slave as she was, my soul adored the dame. Wrong’d in my love, all proffers I disdain ; Deceived for once, I trust not kings again. Ye have my answer, what remains to do, Your king, Ulysses, may consult with you.. What needs he the defence this arm can make ? Has he not walls no human force can shake ? Has he not fenced his guarded navy round With piles, withramparts, and a trench profound? And will not these (the wonders he has done) Repel the rage of Priam’s single son? There was a time (’twas when for Greece I fought) When Hector’s prowess no such wonders wrought; He kept the verge of Troy, nor dared to wait Achilles’ fury at the Sczean gate : He tried it once, and scarce was Saved by Fate. TRANSLATIONS.’ 17 But now those ancient enmities are o’er; To-morrow we the favouring gods implore ; Then shall you see our parting vessels crown’d, And hear with oars the Hellespont resound. ’ The third day hence shall Phthia greet our sails, If mighty Neptune send propitious gales ; Phthia to her Achilles shall restore The wealth he left for this detested shore : Thither the spoils of this long war shall pass, The ruddy gold, the steel, and shining brass; My beauteous captives thither I’ll convey, And all that rests of my unravish’d prey. One only valued gift your tyrant gave, And that resumed; the fair Lyrnessian slave. Then tell him; loud, that all the Greeks may hear, And learn to scorn the wretch they basely fear ; (For arm’d in impudence, mankind he braves, And meditates new cheats on all his slaves; Though shameless as he is, to face these eyes Is what he dares not; if he dares, he dies) Tell him, all terms, all commerce I decline, . Nor share his counsel, nor bis battle join ; For once deceived, was his ; but twice, were mine. No—let the stupid prince, whom Jove deprives Of sense and justice, run where frenzy drives ; His gifts are hateful: kings of such a kind Stand but as slaves before a noble mind. Not though he proffer’d all himself possess’d, And all his rapine could from others wrest ; Not all the golden tides of wealth that crown The many peopled Orchomenian town ; Not all proud Thebes’ unrival’d walls contain, The world’s great Empress on the’ ae gyptian plain VOL, VI. 18 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pole (That spreads her conquests o’er a thousand states, And pours her heroes through a hundred gates, Two hundred horsemen and two hundred cars From each wide portal issuing to the wars), Though bribes were heap’d on bribes; in number — more Than dust in fields, or sand along the shore; Should all these offers for my friendship call ; Tis he that offers, and I scorn them all. Atrides’ daughter never shall be led (An ill match’d consort) to Achilles’ bed; Like golden Venus though she charm’d the heart, And vied with Pallas in the works of art: Some greater Greek let those high nuptials grace, I hate alliance with a tyrant’s race. If Heaven restore me to my realms with life, The reverend Peleus shall elect my wife; Thessalian nymphs there are, of form divine, And kings that sue to mix their blood with mine. Bless’d in kind love, my years shall glide away, Content with just hereditary sway; There, deaf for ever to the martial strife, Enjoy the dear prerogative of life. Life is not to be bought with heaps of gold; Not all Apollo’s Pythian treasures hold, Or Troy once held, in peace and pride of sway, Can bribe the poor possession of a day! Lost herds and treasures we by arms regain, And steeds unrival’d on the dusty plain: But from our lips the vital spirit fled, Returns no more to wake the silent dead. My fates long since by Thetis were disclosed, And each alternate, life or fame, proposed ; TRANSLATIONS, 19 Here, if I stay, before the Trojan town, Short is my date, but deathless my renown: If I return, I quit immortal praise For years on years, and long-extended days. Convinced, though late, I find my fond mistake, And warn the Greeks the wiser choice to make: To quit these shores, their native seats enjoy, Nor hope the fall of Heaven-defended Troy. Jove’s arm display’d asserts her from the skies; Her hearts are strengthen’d, and her glories rise. Go then, to Greece report our fix’d design ; Bid all your counsels, all your armies join, Let all your forces, all your arts conspire, To save the ships, the troops, the chiefs, from fire. One stratagem has fail’d, and others will: Ye find, Achilles is unconquer’d still. Go then—digest the message as ye may— But here this night let reverend Phoenix stay : His tedious toils and hoary hairs demand A peaceful death in Phthia’s friendly land. But whether he remain, or sail with me, His age be sacred, and his will be free.’ HOMER. POPE. DESCRIPTION OF JUNO. Wiru joy the glorious conflict she survey’d, Where her great brother gave the Grecians aid, But placed aloft, on Ida’s shady height She sees her Jove, and trembles at the sight. Jove' to deceive, what methods shall she try, What arts, to blind his all-beholding eye? 20 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XI. At length she trusts her power; resolved to prove The old, yet still successful, cheat of love ; Against his wisdom to oppose her charms, And lull the lord of thunders in her arms. Swift to her bright apartment she repairs, Sacred to dress and beauty’s pleasing cares: With skill divine had Vulcan form’d the bower, Safe from access of each intruding power. Touch’d with her secret key, the doors unfold: Self-closed, behind her shut the valves of gold. Here first she bathes; and round her body pours Soft oils of fragrance, and ambrosial showers: The winds, perfumed, the balmy gale convey Through heaven, through earth, and all the’ aerial Spirit divine! whose exhalation greets [way: The sense of gods with more than mortal sweets. Thus while she breathed of heaven, with decent Her artful hands the radiant tresses tied; [pride Part on her head in shining ringlets roll’d, Part o’er her shoulders waved like melted gold. Around her next a heavenly mantle flow’d That rich with Pallas’ labour’d colours glow’d: Large clasps of gold the foldings gather’d round, A golden zone her swelling bosom bound. Far beaming pendants tremble in her ear, Each gem illumined with a triple star. Then o’er her head she casts a veil more white Than new fallen snow, and dazzling as the light. Last her fair feet celestial sandals grace. Thus issuing radiant with majestic pace, Forth from the dome the’ imperial goddess moves, And calls the mother of the smiles and loves. HOMER. POPE. TRANSLATIONS. 21 THE SHIELD OF ACHILLES. THEN firsthe form’d the’ immense and solid shield ; Rich various artifice emblazed the field; Its utmost verge a threefold circle bound; A silver chain suspends the massy round ; Five ample plates the broad expanse compose, And godlike labours on the surface rose. There shone the image of the master-mind: There earth, there heaven, there ocean,he design’d ; The’ unwearied sun, the moon completely round; The starry lights that heaven’s high convex crown’d ; The Pleiads, Hyads, with the northern team; And great Orion’s more refulgent beam; To which, around the axle of the sky, The Bear, revolving, pomts his golden eye, Still shines exalted on the’ etherial plain, Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main. Two cities radiant on the shield appear, The image one of peace, and one of war. Here sacred pomp and genial feast delight, And solemn dance, and hymeneal rite; Along the streets the new-made brides are led, With torches flaming, to the nuptial bed: The youthful dancers in a circle bound To the soft flute and cithern’s silver sound: _ Through the fair streets the matrons in a row Stand in their porches, and enjoy the show. There in the forum swarm a numerous train; The subject of debate, a townsman slain; 22 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, P, XI. One pleads the fine discharged, which one denied, And bade the public and the laws decide: The witness is produced on either hand: For this, or that, the partial people stand: The’ appointed heralds still the noisy bands, And form a ring, with sceptres in their hands: On seats of stone, within the sacred place, The reverend elders nodded o’er the case; Alternate, each the’ attesting sceptre took, And rising solemn, each his sentence spoke: Two golden talents lay amidst, in sight, The prize of him who best adjudged the right. Another part (a prospect differing far) Glow’d with refulgent arms and horrid war. Two mighty hosts a leaguer’d town embrace, And one would pillage, one would burn the place. Meantime the townsmen, arm’d with silent care, A secret ambush on the foe prepare: Their wives, their children, and the watchful band Of trembling parents, on the turrets stand. They march; by Pallas and by Mars made bold: Gold were the gods, their radiant garments gold, And gold their armour: these the squadron led, August, divine, superior by the head! A place for ambush fit they found, and stood Cover’d with shields, beside a silver flood. Two spies at distance lurk, and watchful seem If sheep or oxen seek the winding stream. Soon the white flocks proceeded o’er the plains, And steers slow moving, and two shepherd swains ; Behind them, piping on their reeds, they go, Nor fear an ambush, nor suspect a foe. In arms the glittering squadron rising round Rush sudden; hills of slaughter heap the ground ; : TRANSLATIONS. 23 Whole flocks and herds lie bleeding on the plains, And, all amidst them, dead, the shepherd swains! The bellowing oxen the besiegers hear ; They rise, take horse, approach, and meet the war ; They fight, they fall, beside the silver flood; The waving silver seem’d to blush with blood. There Tumult, there Contention stood confess d ; One rear’d a dagger at a captive breast; One held a living foe, that freshly bled With new made wounds; another dragg’d a dead ; Now here, now there, the carcasses they tore: Fate stalk’d amidst them, grim with human gore, And the whole war came out, and met the eye ; And each bold figure seem’d to live, or die. A field deep furrow’d next the god design’d, The third time labour’d by the sweating hind; The shining shares full many ploughmen guide, And turn their crooked yokes on every side ; Still as at either end they wheel around, The master meets them with his goblet crown’d; The hearty draught rewards, renews their toil, Then back the turning ploughshares cleave the Behind, the rising earth in ridges roil’d; [soil : And sable look’d, though form’d of molten gold. Another field rose high with waving grain; With bended sickles stand the reaper train: Here stretch’d in ranks the level’d swarths are found, ground. Sheaves heap’d on sheaves here thicken up the With sweeping stroke the mowers strow the lands ; The gatherers follow, and collect in bands; And last the children, in whose arms are borne (Too short to gripe them) the brown sheaves of corn, / 24 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. PAs / The rustic monarch of the field descries With silent glee the heaps around him rise ; A ready banquet on the turf is laid, Beneath an ample oak’s expanded shade, The victim ox the sturdy youth prepare ; The reaper’s due repast, the women’s care. Next, ripe in yellow gold, a vineyard shines, Bent with the ponderous harvest of its vines ; A deeper dye the dangling clusters show, And, curl’d on silver props, in order glow: A darker metal mix’d intrench’d the place; And pales of glittering tin the’ enclosure grace. To this, one pathway gently winding leads, Where march a train with baskets on their heads, (Fair maids and blooming youths) that smiling bear The purple product of the’ autumnal year. To these a youth awakes the warbling strings, Whose tender lay the fate of Linus sings ; In measured dance behind him move the train, Tune soft the voice, and answer to the strain. Here herds of oxen march, erect and bold, Rear high their horns, and seem to low in gold, And speed to meadows on whose sounding shores A rapid torrent through the rushes roars: Four golden herdsmen as their guardians stand, ‘And nine sour dogs complete the rustic band. Two lions rushing from the wood appear’d, And seized a bull, the master of the herd : He roar’d: in vain the dogs, the men, withstood ; They tore his flesh, and drank his sable blood. The dogs (oft cheer’d in vain) desert the prey, Dread the grim terrors, and at distance bay. Next this, the eye the art of Vulcan leads Deep through fair forests, and a length of meads ; TRANSLATIONS. 25 And stalls, and folds, and scatter’d cots between ; And fleecy flocks, that whiten all the scene. A figured dance succeeds: such once was seen In lofty Gnossus, for the Cretan queen, Form’d by Dedalean art: a comely band Of youths and maidens, bounding hand in hand. The maids in soft simars of linen dress’d ; The youths all graceful in the glossy vest: Of those the locks with flowery wreaths enroll’d : Of these the sides adorn’d with swords of gold, That, glittering gay, from silver belts depend. Now all at once they rise, at once descend, With well taught feet : now shape,in oblique ways, Confusedly regular, the moving maze: Now forth at once, too swift for sight, they spring, And undistinguish’d blend the flying ring : So whirls a wheel, in giddy circle toss’d, And, rapid as it runs, the single spokes are lost. The gazing multitudes admire around: Two active tumblers in the centre bound; Now high, now low, their pliant limbs they bend: And general songs the sprightly revel end. Thus the broad shield complete the artist crown’d With his last hand, and pour’d the ocean round ; In living silver seem’d the waves to roll, And beat the buckler’s verge, and bound the whole. HOMER, ' POPE. VOL. Vi. E 26 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. PSI: THE DREAM OF ACHILLES. HE spoke; they hear him, and the word obey ; The rage of hunger and of thirst allay, Then ease in sleep the labours of the day. But great Pelides, stretch’d along the shore, Where, dash’d on rocks, the broken billows roar, Lies inly groaning ; while on either hand The martial Myrmidons confusedly stand. Along the grass his languid members fall, Tired with his chase around the Trojan wall; Hush’d by the murmurs of the rolling deep, At length he sinks in the soft arms of sleep. When lo! the shade, before his closing eyes, Of sad Patroclus rose, or seem’d to rise: In the same robe he living wore, he came: In stature, voice, and pleasing look the same. The form familiar hover’d o’er his head, ‘ And sleeps Achilles (thus the phantom said), Sleeps my Achilles, his Patroclus dead? Living, I seem’d his dearest, tenderest care, But now forgot, I wander in the air. Let my pale corpse the rites of burial know, - And give me entrance in the realms below: Till then, the spirit finds no resting place, But here and there the’ unbodied spectres chase The vagrant dead around the dark abode, Forbid to cross the’ irremeable flood. Now give thy hand; for to the further shore When once we pass, the soul returns no more: When once the last funereal flames ascend, No more shall meet Achilles and his friend ; TRANSLATIONS. 27 No more our thoughts to those we loved make Or quit the dearest, to converse alone. [known ; Me Fate has sever’d from the sons of earth, The fate foredoom’d that waited from my birth: Thee too it waits ; before the Trojan wall E’en great and godlike thou art doom’d to fall. Hear then; and as in fate and love we join, Ah, suffer that my bones may rest with thine! Together have we lived; together bred, One house received us, and one table fed; That golden urn, thy goddess-mother gave, May mix our ashes in one common grave.’ ‘ And is it thou? (he answers) to my sight Once more return’st thou from the realms of night? O more than brother! Think each office paid, Whate’er can rest a discontented shade ; But grant one last embrace, unhappy boy! Afford at least that melancholy joy.’ He said, and with his longing arms essay’d In vain to grasp the visionary shade; Like a thin smoke he sees the spirit fly, And hears a feeble lamentable cry. Confused he wakes: amazement breaks the bands Of golden sleep, and, starting from the sands, Pensive he muses with uplifted hands: ‘Tis true, tis certain; man, though dead, retains Part of himself; the’ immortal mind remains : The form subsists without the body’s aid, Aerial semblance, and an empty shade! This night my friend, so late in battle lost, Stood at my side, a pensive, plaintive ghost; E’en now, familiar, as in life, he came; Alas! how different ! yet how like the same!’ HOMER. POPE. 28 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pkt. THE REPLY OF PROTEUS. ‘ Hicu wrapp’d in wonder of the future deed, With joy impetuous to the port I speed: The wants of nature with repast suffice, Till night with grateful shade involved the skies, And shed ambrosial dews. Fast by the deep, Along the tented shore, in balmy sleep, Our cares were lost. When o’er the eastern lawn, In saffron robes the daughter of the dawn Advanced her rosy steps; before the bay, Due ritual honours to the gods I pay; Then seek the place the seaborn nymph assign’d, With three associates of undaunted mind. Arrived, to form along the’ appointed strand _ For each a bed, she scoops the hilly sand : Then from her azure car the finny spoils Of four vast phoce takes, to veil her wiles: Beneath the finny spoils extended prone, Hard toil! the prophet’s piercing eye to shun ; New from the corse, the scaly frauds diffuse Unsavoury stench of oil, and brackish ooze : But the bright seamaid’s gentle power implored, With nectar’d drops the sickening sense restored. ‘ Thus till the sun had travel’d half the skies Ambush’d we lie, and wait the bold emprise : When thronging quick to bask in open air, The flocks of ocean to the strand repair ; Couch’d on the sunny sand, the monsters sleep : Then Proteus, mounting from the hoary deep, Surveys his charge, unknowing of deceit (In order told, we make the sum complete): Pleased with the false review, secure he lies, And leaden slumbers press his drooping eyes. ho) © TRANSLATIONS. Rushing impetuous forth, we straight prepare A furious onset with the sound of war, And shouting seize the god: our force to’ evade His various arts he soon resumes in aid: __ A lion now, he curls a surgy mane; Sudden, our bands a spotted pard restrain ; Then arm’d with tusks, and lightning in his eyes, A boar’s obscener shape the god belies: On spiry volumes, there a dragon rides ; Here, from our strict embrace a stream he glides: And last, sublime his stately growth he rears, A tree, and well dissembled foliage wears. Vain efforts! with superior power compress’d, Me with reluctance thus the seer address’d— “ Say, son of Atreus, say what god inspired This daring fraud, and what the boon desired ?” ‘ I thus—“ O thou, whose certain eye foresees The fix’d event of Fate’s remote decrees ; After long woes, and various toil endured, Still on this desert isle my fleet is moor’d ; Unfriended of the gales. All-knowing! say, What godhead interdicts the watery way ? What vows repentant will the power appease, To speed a prosperous voyage o’er the seas ?” “‘ To Jove (with stern regard the god replies) And all the’ offended synod of the skies, Just hecatombs with due devotion slain, Thy guilt absolved, a prosperous voyage gain. To the firm sanction of thy fate attend! An exile thou, nor cheering face of friend, Nor sight of natal shore, nor regal dome Shalt yet enjoy, but still art doom’d to roam. Once more the Nile, who from the secret source Of Jove’s high seat descends with sweepy force, 30 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. es. Must view his billows white beneath thy oar, And altars blaze along his sanguine shore. Then will the gods, with holy pomp adored, To thy long vows a safe return accord.” ‘ He ceased: heart-wounded with afllictive pain, (Doom’d to repeat the perils of the main, A shelfy tract, and long!) ‘*‘ O seer, (I cry) _ To the stern sanction of the’ offended sky My prompt obedience bows. But deign to say, What fate propitious, or what dire dismay, Sustain those peers, the relics of our host, Whom I with Nestor on the Phrygian coast Embracing left? Must I the warriors weep Whelm’d in the bottom of the monstrous deep? Or did the kind domestic friend deplore | The breathless heroes on their native shore ?” | “¢ Press not too far, (replied the god) but cease To know what known will violate thy peace: Too curious of their doom! with friendly woe Thy breast will heave, and tears eternal flow. Part live! the rest, a lamentable train! Range the dark bounds of Pluto’s dreary reign. Two, foremost in the roll of Mars renown’d, Whose arms with conquest in thy cause were crown’d, Fell by disastrous Fate: by tempests toss’d, A third lives wretched on a distant coast. ‘ By Neptune rescued from Minerva’s hate, On Gyre, safe Oilean Ajax sat, ’ His ship o’erwhelm’d: but Stowning on the floods, Impious he roar’d defiance to the gods: To his own prowess all the glory gave, The power defrauding who vouchsafed to save. This heard the raging ruler of the main; His spear, indignant for such high disdain, TRANSLATIONS. 31 He launch’d ; dividing with his forky mace _The’ aerial summit from the marble base: The rock rush’d seaward with impetuous roar Ingulf’d, and to the’ abyss the boaster bore. “* By Juno’s guardian aid, the watery vast, Secure of storms, your royal brother pass’d ; Till coasting nigh the cape, where Malea shrouds Her spiry cliffs amid surrounding clouds, A whirling gust tumultuous from the shore, Across the deep his labouring vessel bore. In an ill fated hour the coast he gain’d, Where late in regal pomp Thyestes reign’d ; But when his hoary honours bow’d to fate, /Egisthus govern’d in paternal state. The surges now subside, the tempest ends ; From his tall ship the king of men descends: There fondly thinks the gods conclude his toil : Far from his own domain salutes the soil : With rapture oft the verge of Greece reviews, And the dear turf with tears of joy bedews. Him, thus exulting on the distant strand, A spy distinguish’d from his airy stand: To bribe whose vigilance, Agisthus told A mighty sum of ill persuading gold: There watch’d this guardian of his guilty fear, Till the twelfth moon had wheel’d her pale career ; And now admonish’d by his eye, to court With terror wing’d conveys the dread report. Of deathful arts expert, his lord employs The ministers of blood in dark surprise ; And twenty youths in radiant mail incased, Close ambush’d nigh the spacious hall he placed. ‘Then bids prepare the hospitable treat: Vain shows of love to veil his felon-hate ! 32 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. To grace the victor’s welcome from the wars, A train of coursers, and triumphal cars, Magnificent he leads: the royal guest, Thoughtless of ill, accepts the fraudful feast. The troop forth issuing from the dark recess, With homicidal rage the king oppress! So, whilst he feeds luxurious in the stall, The sovereign of the herd is doom’d to fall. The partners of his fame and toils at Troy, Around their lord, a mighty ruin! lie: Mix’d with the brave, the base invaders bleed ; /Egisthus sole survives to boast the deed.” ‘ He said; chill horrors shook my shivering soul, Rack’d with convulsive pangs in dust I roll: And hate, in madness of extreme despair, To view the sun or breathe the vital air: But when, superior to the rage of woe, [ stood restored, and tears had ceased to flow ; Lenient of grief, the pitying god began— “ Forget the brother, and resume the man: To Fate’s supreme dispose the dead resign, That care be Fate’s, a speedy passage thine. Still lives the wretch who wrought the death de- plored, But lives a victim for thy vengeful sword ; Unless with filial rage Orestes glow, And swift prevent the meditated blow : You timely will return a welcome guest, With him to share the sad funereal feast.” ‘ He said: new thoughts my beating heart em- My gloomy soul receives a gleam of joy. [ploy, For hope revives; and eager I address’d » The prescient godhead to reveal the rest. ‘* The doom decreed of those disastrous two I’ve heard with pain, but oh! the tale pursue ; TRANSLATIONS. By) What third brave son of Mars the fates constrain To roam the howling desert of the main: Or in eternal shade if cold he lies, Provoke new sorrow from these grateful eyes.” “¢ That chief (rejoin’d the god) his race derives From Ithaca, and wondrous woes survives ; Laertes’ son: girt with circumfluous tides, He still calamitous constraint abides. Him in Calypso’s cave of late I view’d, When streaming grief his faded cheek bedew’d. But vain his prayer, his arts are vain, to move The’ enamour’d goddess, or elude her love: His vessel sunk, and dear companions lost, He lives reluctant on a foreign coast. But oh, beloved by Heaven! reserved to thee A happier lot the smiling Fates decree! Free from that law, beneath whose mortal sway Matter is changed and varying forms decay, Elysium shall be thine; the blissful plains Of utmost earth, where Rhadamanthus reigns. Joys ever young, unmix’d with pain or fear, Fill the wide circle of the’ eternal year : Stern winter smiles on that auspicious clime: The fields are florid with unfading prime: From the bleak pole no winds inclement blow, Mould the round hail, or flake the fleecy snow; | But from the breezy deep the bless’d inhale . The fragrant murmurs of the western gale. This grace peculiar will the gods afford [lord.” To thee, the son of Jove, and beauteous Helen’s ‘ He ceased, and plunging in the vast profound, Beneath the god the whirling billows bound.’ HOMER. POPE. VOL. VI. F 34 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. xt, THE GROTTO OF CALYPSO. Tuus 0’er the world of waters Hermes flew, Till now the distant island rose in view; Then swift ascending from the azure wave, He took the path that winded to the cave. Large was the grot in which the nymph he found (The fair-hair’d nymph with every beauty crown'd), She sat and sung; the rocks resound her lays: The cave was brighten’d with a rising blaze: Cedar and frankincense, an odorous pile, Flamed on the hearth, and wide perfumed the isle ; While she with work and song the time divides, And through the loom the golden shuttle guides. Without the grot, a various silvan scene Appear’d around, and groves of living green ; Poplars and alders ever quivering play’d, And nodding cypress form’d a fragrant shade ; On whose high branches, waving with the storm, The birds of broadest wing their mansion form, The chough, the seamew, the loquacious crow, And scream aloft, and skim the deeps below. Depending vines the shelving cavern screen, With purple clusters blushing through the green. Four limpid fountains from the clefts distil, And every fountain pours a several rill, In mazy windings wandering down the hill: Where bloomy meads with vivid greens were crown’d, And glowing violets threw ridciets round, A scene, where, if a god should cast his sight, A god might gaze, and wander with delight! HOMER. POPE. TRANSLATIONS, 35 THE PALACE OF ALCINOUS. MEANWHILE Ulysses at the palace waits, There stops, and anxious with his soul debates, Fix’d in amaze before the royal gates. The front appear’d with radiant splendours gay, Bright as the lamp of night or orb of day. The walis were massy brass: the cornice high Blue metals crown’d, in colours of the sky: Rich plates of gold the folding doors incase ; The pillars silver, on a brazen base ; Silver the lintels deep projecting o’er, And gold the ringlets that command the door. Two rows of stately dogs, on either hand, In sculptured gold and labour’d silver, stand. These Vulcan form’d with art divine, to wait Immortal guardians at Alcinous’ gate ; Alive each animated frame appears, And still to live beyond the power of years. Fair thrones within from space to space were raised, Where various carpets with embroidery blazed, The work of matrons: these the princes press’d, Day following day, a long continued feast. Refulgent pedestals the walls surround, Which boys of gold with flaming torches crown’d ; The polish’d ore, reflecting every ray, Blazed on the banquets with a double day. Full fifty handmaids form the household train; Some turn the mill, or sift the golden grain; Some ply the loom; their busy fingers move Like poplar leaves, when Zephyr fans the grove. _ 36 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P; Xi. Not more renown’d the men of Scheria’s isle, For sailing arts and all the naval toil, Than works of female skill their women’s pride, The flying shuttle through the threads to guide: Pallas to these her double gifts imparts, Inventive genius and industrious arts. Close to the gates a spacious garden lies, From storms defended and inclement skies. Four acres was the’ allotted space of ground, Fenced with a green enclosure all around : Tall thriving trees confess’d the fruitful mould ; The reddening apple ripens here to gold: Here the blue fig with luscious juice o’erflows, With deeper red the full pomegranate glows, The branch here bends beneath the weighty pear, And verdant olives flourish round the year. The balmy spirit of the western gale Eternal breathes on fruits untaught to fail: Each dropping pear a following pear supplies, On apples apples, figs on figs arise: The same mild season gives the blooms to blow, The buds to harden, and the fruits to grow. Here order’d vines in equal ranks appear, With all the’ united labours of the year. Some to unload the fertile branches run, Some dry the blackening clusters in the sun, Others to tread the liquid harvest join, The groaning presses foam with floods of wine. Here are the vines in early flower descried, Here grapes discolour’d on the sunny side, And there in autumn’s richest purple dyed. Beds of all various herbs, for ever green, In beauteous order terminate the scene. ‘ = TRANSLATIONS. 37 / ' Two plenteous fountains the whole prospect crown’d ; This through the gardens leads its streams around, Visits each plant, and waters all the ground ; While that in pipes beneath the palace flows, And thence its current on the town bestows : To various use their various streams they bring, The people one, and one supplies the king. Such were the glories which the gods ordain’d, To grace Alcinots, and his happy land! F’en from the chief, who men and nations knew, The’ unwonted scene surprise and rapture drew ; In pleasing thought he ran the prospect o’er, Then hasty enter’d at the lofty door. Night now approaching, in the palace stand, With goblets crown’d, the rulers of the land ; Prepared for rest, and offering to the god Who bears the virtue of the sleepy rod. Unseen he glided through the joyous crowd, With darkness circled, and an ambient cloud. HOMER. POPE. DESCRIPTION OF SCYLLA. Hien in the air the rock its summit shrouds In brooding tempests and in rolling clouds; Loud storms around and mists eternal rise, _ Beat its bleak brow, and intercept the skies. When all the broad expansion, bright with day, Glows with the’ autumnal or the summer ray, The summer and the autumn glow in vain, The sky for ever lours, for ever clouds remain. 338 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. Impervious to the step of man it stands, Though borne by twenty feet, though arm’d with twenty hands ; Smooth as the polish of the mirror, rise The slippery sides, and shoot into the skies. Full in the centre of this rock display’d, A yawning cavern casts a dreadful shade: Nor the fleet arrow from the twanging bow, Sent with full force, could reach the depth below. Wide to the west the horrid gulf extends, And the dire passage down to hell descends. O fly the dreadful sight! expand thy sails, Ply the strong oar, and catch the nimble gales: Here Scylla bellows from her dire abodes, Tremendous pest! abhorr’d by man and gods! Hideous her voice, and with less terrors roar The whelps of lions in the midnight hour. Twelve feet, deform’d and foul, the fiend dis- preads ; Six horrid necks she rears, and six terrific heads; Her jaws grin dreadful with three rows of teeth; Jaggy they stand, the gaping den of death; Her parts obscene the raging billows hide; Her bosom terribly o’erlooks the tide. When stung with hunger she embroils the flood, The seadog and the dolphin are her food; She makes the huge leviathan her prey, And all the monsters of the watery way ; The swiftest racer of the azure plain Here fills her sails and spreads her oars in vain ; Fell Scylla rises, in her fury roars, At once six mouths expands, at once six men de- -vours. HOMER, POPE. TRANSLATIONS, 39 THE DEATH OF ARGUS. Tuus, near the gates conferring as they drew, Argus, the dog, his ancient master knew ; He, not unconscious of the voice and tread, Lifts to the sound his ear, and rears his head !— Bred by Ulysses, nourish’d at his board; But ah! not fated long to please his lord! To him, his swiftness and his strength were vain ; The voice of glory call’d him o’er the main. Till then in every silyan chase renown’d, With Argus, Argus, rung the woods around; With him the youth pursued the goat or fawn, Or traced the mazy leveret o’er the lawn. Now left to man’s ingratitude he lay, Unhoused, neglected, in the public way ; And where on heaps the rich manure was spread, Obscene with reptiles, took his sordid bed. He knew his lord :—he knew, and strove to meet (In vain he strove), to crawl, and kiss his feet; _ Yet (all he could) his tail, his ears, his eyes, Salute his master, and confess his joys. Soft pity touch’d the mighty master’s soul : Adown his cheek a tear unbidden stole; Stole unperceived; he turn’d his head, and dried The drop humane :—then thus impassion’d cried— ‘ What noble beast in this abandon’d state Lies here all helpless at Ulysses’ gate ! His_bulk and beauty speak no vulgar praise ; If, as he seems, he was in better days, Some care his age deserves: or was he prized For worthless beauty! therefore now despised? 40 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI; Such dogs and men there are ; mere things of state, And always cherish’d by their friends, the great.’ ‘ Not Argus so (Eumzus thus rejoin’d), But served a master of a nobler kind: Who never, never shall behold him more! Long, long since perish’d on a distant shore! O had you seen him, vigorous, bold, and young, Swift as a stag, and as a lion strong! Him no fell savage on the plain withstood, None scaped him, bosom’d in the gloomy wood; His eye how piercing, and his scent how true, To wind the vapour in the tainted dew! Such, when Ulysses left his natal coast; Now years unnerve him, and his lord is lost! The women keep the generous creature bare; A sleek and idle race is all their care: The master gone, the servants what restrains? Or dwells humanity where riot reigns ? Jove fix’d it certain, that whatever day Makes man a Slave, takes half his worth away.’ This said, the honest herdsman strode before : The musing monarch pauses at the door; The dog, whom Fate had granted to behold His lord, when twenty tedious years had roll’d, Takes a last look, and, having seen him, dies ; So closed for ever faithful Argus’ eyes ! HOMER. POPE. TRANSLATIONS. | 41 a“ THE REVEALING OF ULYSSES, AND now his well known bow the master bore, Turn’d on all sides, and view’d it o’er and o’er; Lest time or worms had done the weapon wrong, Its owner absent, and untried so long, While some deriding—‘ How he turns the bow! Some other like it sure the man must know, Or else would copy; or in bows he deals: Perhaps he makes them; or perhaps he steals.’ ‘ Heayen to this wretch (another cried) be kind ! And bless, in all to which he stands inclined, With such good fortune as he now shall find.’ Heedless he heard them :—but disdain’d reply ; The bow perusing with exactest eye. Then, as some heavenly minstrel, taught to sing High notes, responsive to the trembling string, To some new strain when he adapts the lyre, Or the dumb lute refits with vocal wire, Relaxes, strains, and draws them to and fro; So the great master drew the mighty bow: And drew with ease. One hand aloft display’d The bending horns, and one the string essay’d. From his essaying hand the string let fly [ery. Twang’d short and sharp, like the shrill swallow’s A general horror ran through all the race ; Sunk was each heart, and pale was every face. Signs from above ensued :—the’ unfolding sky In lightning burst; Jove thunder’d from on high. Fired at the call of heaven’s almighty lord, He snatch’d the shaft that glitter’d on the board Fast by (the rest lay sleeping in the sheath, But soon to fly, the messengers of death). VOL, VI. G 42 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. Xie Now, sitting as he was, the cord he drew, Through every ringlet leveling his view; Then notch’d the shaft, released, and gave it wing; The whizzing arrow vanish’d from the string, Sung on direct, and threaded every ring. The solid gate its fury scarcely bounds; Pierced through and through the solid gate re- sounds. [shame: Then to the prince—‘ Nor have I wrought thee Nor err’d this hand unfaithful to its aim ; Nor proved the toil too hard ; nor have I lost That ancient vigour, once my pride and boast. Ill I deserve these haughty peers’ disdain :— Now let them comfort their dejected train: In sweet repast the present hour employ, Nor wait till evening for the genial joy: Then to the lute’s soft voice prolong the night;— Music, the banquet’s most refined delight.’ He said, then gave a nod ;—and at the word Telemachus girds on his shining sword. Fast by his father’s side he takes his stand; The beamy javelin lightens in his hand. Then fierce the hero o’er the threshold strode; Stripp’d of his rags, he blazed out like a god. Full in their face the lifted bow he bore, And quiver’d deaths, a formidable store ; Before his feet the rattling shower he threw, And thus terrific, to the suitor crew— ‘One venturous game this hand has won to-day ;° Another, princes! yet remains to play: Another mark our arrow must attain. Phoebus, assist! nor be the labour vain.’ Swift as the word the parting arrow sings; And bears thy fate, Antinotis, on its wings. TRANSLATIONS. 43 Wretch that he was, of unprophetic soul! High in his hands he rear’d the golden bowl; . F’en then to drain it lengthen’d out his breath; Changed to the deep the bitter draught of death! For fate who fear’d amidst a feastful band? And fate to numbers, by a single hand? Full through his throat Ulysses’ weapon pass’d, And pierced the neck. He falls, and breathes his last. The tumbling goblet the wide floor o’erflows, A stream of gore burst spouting from his nose; Grim in convulsive agonies he sprawls: Before him spurn’d, the loaded table falls, And spreads the pavement with a mingled flood Of floating meats and wine and human blood. Amazed, confounded, as they saw him fall, Uprose the throngs tumultuous round the hall: O’er all the dome they cast a haggard eye: Each look’d for arms: in vain; no arms were nigh: ‘ Aim’st thou at princes? (all amazed they said) Thy last of games unhappy hast thou play’d ; Thy erring shaft has made our bravest bleed, And death, unlucky guest, attends thy deed. Vultures shall tear thee.’—Thus incensed they spoke ; [stroke : While each to chance ascribed the wondrous Blind as they were ; for death e’en now invades His destined prey, and wraps them all in shades! Then grimly frowning with a dreadful look, That wither’d all their hearts, Ulysses spoke— ‘ Dogs, ye have had your day :—ye fear’d no Ulysses vengeful from the Trojan shore; [more While to your lust and spoil a guardless prey, Our house,our wealth,our helpless handmaidslay : , 44 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. Xi: Not so content, with bolder frenzy fired, E’en to our bed, presumptuous, you aspired : Laws or divine or human fail’d to move, Or shame of men, or dread of gods above: Heedless alike of infamy or praise, Or Fame’s eternal voice in future days: The hour of vengeance, wretches! now is come; Impending fate is yours, and instant doom.’ Thus dreadful he. Confused the suitors stood ; From their pale cheeks recedes the flying blood: Trembling they sought their guilty heads to hide; Alone the bold Eurymachus replied— ‘ If, as thy words import (he thus began), Ulysses lives, and thou the mighty man, Greatare thy wrongs, and much hast thou sustain’d In thy spoil’d palace, and exhausted land. The cause and author of those guilty deeds, Lo! at thy feet unjust Antinous bleeds. Not love, but wild ambition, was his guide: To slay thy son, thy kingdoms to divide, These were his aims ;—but juster Jove denied. Since cold in death the’ offender lies, O spare Thy suppliant people, and receive their prayer ! Brass, gold, and treasures shall ‘the spoil defray : Two hundred oxen every prince shall pay ; The waste of years refunded in a day. Till then thy wrath is just.’ Ulysses burn’d With high disdain, and sternly thus return’d— ‘ All, all the treasures that enrich’d our throne Before your rapines, join’d with all your own, If offer’d, vainly should for mercy call: *Tis you that offer, and I scorn them all. Your blood is my demand! your lives the prize, Till pale as yonder wretch each suitor lies. TRANSLATIONS. 45 Hence with those coward terms: or fight, or fly ; This choice is left ye, to resist or die: And die I trust ye shall.’ He sternly spoke : With guilty fears the pale assembly shook. HOMER. POPE. THE CREATION OF PANDORA. FROM THE GREEK OF HESIOD. THE food of man in deep concealment lies, The angry gods have veil’d it from our eyes. Else had one day bestow’d sufficient cheer, And though inactive fed thee through the year ; Then might thy hand have laid the rudder by, In blackening smoke for ever hung on high; Then had the labouring ox foregone the soil, And patient mules had found reprieve from toil ; But Jove conceal’d our food, incensed at heart Since mock’d by wise Prometheus’ wily art. Sore ills to man devised the Heavenly Sire, And hid the shining element of fire. Prometheus, then, benevolent of soul, In hollow reed the spark recovering stole, - Cheering to man, and mock’d the god whose gaze Serene rejoices in the lightning’s rays. ‘Oh son of Japhet! with indignant heart Spoke the Cloud-gatherer; oh! unmatch’d in art! Exultest thou in this the flame retrieved, And dost thou triumph in the god deceived? But thou, with the posterity of man, Shalt rue the fraud whence mighter ills began: 46 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XI. I will send evil for thy stealthy fire, An ill which all shail love, and all desire.” The Sire who rules the earth and sways the pole Had said, and laughter fill’d his secret soul ; He bade the crippled god his hest obey, And mould with tempering water plastic clay ; Imbreathe the human voice within her breast, With firm-strung nerves the’ elastic limbs invest; Her aspect fair as goddesses above, A virgin’s likeness with the brows of love. He bade Minerva teach the skill that dyes The web with colours as the shuttle flies : He called the magic of love’s charming queen To breathe around a witchery of mien: Then plant the rankling stings of keen desire, And cares that trick the limbs with prank’d attire : Bade Hermes last impart the craft refined Of thievish manners and a shameless mind. He gives command, the’ inferior powers obey,’ The crippled artist moulds the temper’d clay: A maid’s coy image rose at Jove’s behest; Minerva clasp’d the zone, diffused the vest; Adored Persuasion and the Graces young Her taper’d limbs with golden jewels hung; Round her smooth brow the beauteous-tressed Hours A garland twined of Spring’s purpureal flowers; The whole attire Minerva’s graceful art Disposed, adjusted, formed to every part; And last the winged herald of the skies, Slayer of Argus, gave the gift of lies ; Gave trickish manners, honey’d words instill’d, As he that rolls the deepening thunder will’d: Then by the feather’d messenger of Heaven, The name Pandora to the maid was given ; TRANSLATIONS. AZ For all the gods conferr’d a gifted grace To crown this mischief of the mortal race. The Sire commands the winged herald bear The finish’d nymph, the’ inextricable snare : To Epimetheus was the present brought ; Prometheus’ warning vanish’d from his thought: That he disclaim each offering from the skies, And straight restore, lest ills to man arise. But he received, and conscious knew too late - The’ insidious gift, and felt the curse of fate. On earth of yore the sons of men abode From evil free and labour’s galling load ; Free from diseases that with racking rage Precipitate the pale decline of age. Now swift the days of manhood haste away, And misery’s pressure turns the temples gray. The woman’s hands an ample casket bear : She lifts the lid—she scatters ills in air, Hope sole remain’d within, nor took her flight, Beneath the vessel’s verge conceal’d from light; Or ere she fled, the maid, advised by Jove, Seal’d first the’ unbroken cell, and dropp’d the lid above; Issued the rest, in quick dispersion hurl’d, And woes innumerous roam’d the breathing world: With ills the land is full, with ills the sea; Diseases haunt our frail humanity: glide Self-wandering through the noon, the night, they Voiceless —a voice the power all-wise denied : Know then this awful truth—it is not given To’ elude the wisdom of omniscient Heaven. ELTON. 48 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. UE THE DEFEAT OF THE TITANS. FROM THE GREEK OF HESIOD. ALL on that day roused infinite the war, Female and male: the Titan deities, [Jove The Gods from Saturn sprung, and those whom From subterraneous gloom released to light: Terrible, strong, of force enormous ; burst A hundred arms from all their shoulders huge : From all their shoulders fifty heads upsprang O’er limbs of sinewy mould. They then array’d Against the Titans in fell combat stood, And in their nervous grasp wielded aloft Precipitous rocks. On the’ other side alert The Titan phalanx closed: then hands of strength Join’d prowess, and display’d the works of war. Tremendous then the’ immeasurable sea Roar’d; earth resounded: the wide heaven throughout Groan’d shattering: from its base Olympus vast Reeled to the violence of gods: the shock Of deep concussion rock’d the dark abyss Remote of Tartarus: the shrilling din Of hollow tramplings, and strong battle strokes, And measureless uproar of wild pursuit. So they reciprocal their weapons hurl’d Groan-scatiering ; and the shout of either host Burst in exhorting ardour to the stars Of heaven; with mighty war cries either host Encountering closed. Nor longer then did Jove Curb his full power ; but instant in his soul : TRANSLATIONS. 49 There grew dilated strength, and it was fill’d With his omnipotence. At once he loosed His whole of might, and put forth all the God. The vaulted sky, the mount Olympian, flash’d With his continual presence ; for he pass’d Incessant forth, and scatter’d fires on fires. Hurl’d from his hardy grasp the lightnings flew Reiterated swift; the whirling flash Cast sacred splendour, and the thunderbolt Fell: roar’d around the nurture-yielding earth In conflagration, far on every side pihe’ immensity of forests crackling blazed : Yea, the broad earth burn’d red, the streams that With ocean, and the deserts of the sea. [mix Round and around the Titan brood of earth Roll’d the hot vapour on its fiery surge; The liquid. heat air’s pure expanse divine Suffused: the radiance keen of quivering flame That shone from writhen lightnings, each dim orb Strong though they were, intolerable smote, And scor¢h’d their blasted vision. Through the Of Erebus the preternatural glare [void Spread, mingling fire with darkness. But to see With human eye, and hear with ear of man, Had been as if midway the spacious heaven, Hurtling with earth, shock’d—e’en as nether earth Crash’d from the centre, and the wreck of heaven Fell ruining from high. So vast the din, When, gods encountering gods, the clang of arms Commingled, and the tumult roar’d from heaven: Shrill rush’d the hollow winds, and roused through- A shaking, and a gathering dark of dusk, [out The crash of thunders and the glare of flames, The fiery darts of Jove: full in the midst VOL. VI. H 50 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp: i Of either host they swept the roaring sound Of tempest, and the shouting: mingled rose The din of dreadful battle. There stern strength Put forth the proof of prowess, till the fight Declined: but first in opposite array Full long they stood, and bore the brunt of war. Amid the foremost towering in the van The war-unsated Gyges, Briareus, And Cottus bitterest conflict waged: for they Successive thrice a hundred rocks in air Hurl’d from their sinewy grasp: with missile storm The Titan host o’ershadowing, them they drove All haughty as they were, with hands of strength — O’ercoming them, beneath the’ expanse of earth, And bound with galling chains; so far beneath This earth, as earth is distant from the sky: So deep. the space to darksome Tartarus, A brazen anvil rushing through the sky Through thrice three days would toss in airy whirl, Nor touch this earth till the tenth sun arose: Or down earth’s chasm precipitate revolve, Nor till the tenth sun rose attain the verge Of Tartarus. A fence of massive brass Is forged around: around the pass is roll’d A night of triple darkness; and above Impend the roots of earth and barren sea. There the Titanic gods in murkiest gloom Lie hidden, such the cloud assembler’s will: There in a place of darkness, where vast earth Has end: from thence no egress open lies: Neptune’s huge hand with brazen gates the mouth Has closed; a wall environs every side. There Gyges, Cottus, high soul’d Briareus Dwell vigilant, the faithful sentinels TRANSLATIONS. 51 Of zgis-bearer Jove. Successive there The dusky earth and darksome Tartarus, The sterile ocean and the starbright heaven, Arise and end, their source and boundary, A drear and ghastly wilderness, abhorr’d Even by the gods; a vast vacuity: Might none the space of one slow-circling year Touch the firm soil, that portal enter’d once, But him the whirl of vexing hurricanes Toss to and fro. Even by immortals loathed This prodigy of horror. There of night Obscure the dismal dwellings rise, with mists Of darkness overspread. Full in the front Atlas upholding heaven his forehead rears And indefatigable hands. There night And day, near passing, mutual greeting still Exchange, alternate as they glide athwart The brazen threshold vast. This enters, that Forth issues; nor the two can one abode At once constrain. This passes forth, and roams The round of earth; that in the mansion waits Till the due season of her travel come. Lo! from the one the far-discerning light Beams upon earthly dwellers ; but a cloud Of pitchy blackness veils the other round, Pernicious Night, aye leading in her hand Sleep, Death’s half-brother ; sons of gloomy Night, There hold they habitation, Death and Sleep, Dread deities; nor them the shining sun F’er with his beam contemplates, when he climbs The cope of heaven, nor when from heaven de- scends. Of these the one glides o’er the gentle space Of earth and broad expanse of ocean waves, 52 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. Placid to men: the other has a heart Of iron; in his breast a brazen soul Is bosom’d, ruthless: whom of man he grasps Stern he retains, e’en to immortal gods - A foe. ELTON. THE OVERTHROW OF TYPHUS. FROM THE GREEK OF HESIOD. a . Now, when Jove from heaven Had cast the Titans forth, huge Earth embraced By Tartarus, through love’ s all golden queen, Her youngest born Typhoeus bore ; whose hands Of strength are fitted to stupendous deeds, And indefatigable are the feet Of the strong god; and from his shoulders rise A hundred snaky heads of dragon growth, Horrible, quivering with their blackening tongues. In each amazing head from eyes that roll'd Within their sockets fire shone sparkling; fire Blazed from each head, the whilst he roll’d his — glance Glaring around him. In those fearful heads Were voices of all sound, miraculous: Now utter’d they distinguishable tones Meet for the ear of gods; now of a bull The cry, loud bellowing and untamable In strength ; and now the mighty roaring sound As of a dauntless lion; now the yell [now Of whelps most strange to hear; and breathed he Shrill hissings, that the lofty mountains rang. Then had a dread event that fatal day TRANSLATIONS. 53 Inevitably fallen, and he had ruled O’er mortals and immortals; but the sire Of gods and men the peril instant knew, Intuitive, and vehement and strong He thunder’d ; instantaneous all around Earth reel’d with horrible crash; the firmament Roar’d of high heaven ; the ocean,streams,and seas, And uttermost caverns. While the king in wrath Uprose, beneath his everlasting feet Trembled Olympus; groan’d the steadfast earth. From either side a burning radiance caught The darkly rolling ocean, from the flash Of lightnings, and the monster’s darted flame, Hot thunderbolts, and blasts of fiery winds. Glow’d earth, air, sea, the billows heaved on high Foam’d round the shores, and dash’d on every side Beneath the rush of gods. Concussion wild And unappeasable uprose: aghast The gloomy monarch of the’ infernal dead Trembled; the subtartarean Titans heard F’en where they stood, and Saturn in the midst ; They heard appall’d the unextinguish’d rage Of tumult, and the din of dreadful war. Now when the god, the fulness of his might Gathering at once, had grasp’d his radiant arms, The glowing thunderbolt and bickering flame, He from the summit of the’ Olympian mount Leap’d at a bound, and smote him : hiss’d at once The horrible monster’s heads enormous, scorch’d In one conflagrant blaze. When thus the god . Had quell’d him, thunder-smitten, mangled, prone, He fell; beneath his weight earth groaning shook. Flame from the lightning-stricken prodigy Flash’d, midst the mountain hollows,rugged,dark, 54 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, Bi Where he fellsmitten. Broad earth glow’d intense From that unbounded vapour, and dissolved :— As fusile tin by art of youths above The wide-brimm'’d vase up bubbling foams with Or iron, hardest of the mine, subdued [heat ; By burning flame, amid the mountain dells Melts in the sacred caves beneath the hands . Of Vulcan,—so earth melted in the glare Of blazing fire. He-down hell’s wide abyss His victim hurl’d in bitterness of soul. ELTON. THE LOVE OF MEDEA. FROM THE GREEK OF APOLLONIUS RHODIUS. ea iWeeteaints . Min the crowd alone, In fort and grack distinguish’d, Jason shone. The’ enraptured maiden held her veil askance, And caught, beneath the shade, a sidelong glance. She gazed, and gazed; while grief her soul sub- dued ; And thought in vain the lovely guest pursued ; As when we catch at objects in a dream, That still beyond, yet ever near us seem. While, sorrowing, from the palace they retire, Chalciopé, to shun her father’s ire, Her inmost chamber with her children sought; Medea follow’d, with distracted thought. The cares of love within her bosom rise, And absent Jason stands before her eyes, His looks, his gestures, graved within her breast: ‘ Such his deportment—thus he wore his vest— TRANSLATIONS. 55 Such words he utter’d—thus, aud there he sate— Thus from the portal rush’d, unhappy fate!’ Possess’d, bewilder’d, her enamour’d mind Finds not his parallel in humankind. Still, still, in thought, his honey’d words she hears ; His tuneful accents vibrate on her ears. Much for the youth her boding fears arise: A ghastly corse he sinks before her eyes. She sees him with the fiery bulls engage, She sees him bleed beneath her father’s’rage. She wept the victim, as already dead, And piteous tears of soft compassion shed. And mournful words to solitude she spoke; W hile from her breast the smother’d anguish broke. ‘What means the strange disorder of my heart? Such tumult can a stranger’s look impart? In questionable shape, from distant climes, Comes he a prince, or slave distain’d with crimes? No matter. Let a chief or miscreant fall, Why should the’ event for wild emotions call? Me it concerns not. Yet, renown’d or base, In safety let him fly this fatal place. Daughter of Perseus, venerable power *, O guard the youth in that tremendous hour. Protect him, guide him, to his native land ; Let him not perish on this Colchian strand ! But if the fates have destined him to fail, And perish by the bulls that flames exhale ; Let him perceive there is a feeling heart, That in his sufferings claims an equal part.’ * * * * * While on her couch she sunk, in trance pro- Medea’s sorrows soft oblivion drown’d; [found, * Hecate was daughter of Perseus, or Perses and Asteria. 56 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Py 3h Yet, fearful visions hover'd round her head, Illusive forms, of mournful fancy bred. The stranger seem’d, that trial to sustain, Moved by no wish the wondrous fleece to gain; But love and she the daring aim supplied; He sought Medea for his virgin bride. Greece he had left, at Beauty’s powerful call, And love allured him to her father’s hall. The fiery bulls she then appear’d to taine, And yoke, uninjured by their breath of flame. Her parents, then, their promises denied, The labour finish’d, they withheld the bride. Between her father and the strangers rose A fierce debate. The warfare to compose, The maid was call’d, as umpire of the strife; And soon the daughter yielded to the wife. Her kindred for that stranger thus resign’d, What indignation fill’d each parent’s mind! Vast was their anguish,loud and shrill their cries— Scared at the din, the virgin’s slumber flies. Pale from the couch she sprang, in wild amaze, And round the chamber cast a vacant gaze. She pants. Her bosom palpitates with dread. Thought is absorb’d, and recollection fled. ‘ What forms of terror, miserable maid (With feeble voice she cried), thy sleep invade? Some dire misfortunes have these heroes brought. With anxious doubts this stranger fills my thought. Far let them fly, and wed some Grecian fair ; My parents and my virtue claim my care. But why with cruelty my bosom steel? A sister’s anguish why refuse to feel? Maternal terrors for her sons arise, Wilt thou, relentless, mark her tears and cries? TRANSLATIONS. 57 Think, savage as thou art, ’tis thine to save, Or doom her children to the untimely grave. Oh nature! no, thy sacred ties shall bind ; In grief thine energies support the mind.’ In wild disorder from the couch she flew, Unfolded wide the chamber door she threw. Unshod and disarray’d, in eager haste To seek her sister, she the threshold pass’d. By conscious shame and.timid awe restrain’d, Long time before the portal she remain’d. Fearful of entering, to and fro she paced ; Now forward rush’d, and now her steps retraced ; Her trembling steps, uncertain where they stray’d. Her gait the conflict in her soul betray’d. Impetuous love, with wild desire impell’d, And bashful fear and modesty withheld. Impassion’d now her sister’s door she sought ; Her chamber now with deep despondence fraught. Thrice she proceeds, and thrice her foot recalls ; Then prone upon her couch distracted falls. As the young bride laments her blooming spouse, Lord of her bosom, object of her vows ; In love united, and the hallow’d bands, Knit by fraternal and parental hands ; She flies the soothings of the’ attendant train, She hides the fond expressions of her pain. With grief, at once, and virgin shame oppress’d, Her tears fall lonely on the’ enamour’d breast; When fates relentless the dear youth remove ; Untried the joys, the tender thefts of love; From every tongue, that might impart relief, She dreads a censure on her amorous grief ; In avarice of anguish hoards her care, And eyes the widow’d couch in mute despair ; VOL. VI. I 58 3 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XI. Thus mourn’d Medea; thus the cause suppress’d, That bathed her eyes and heaved her throbbing breast. * * * * * Now Night o’er earth her ample veil display’d ; And sailors, from the deep, the stars survey’d, Orion, and the greater Bear; that guide The nightly path of vessels through the tide. Sleep on the weary traveller’s senses crept, F’en in the tower the careful warder slept. Subdued by rest, the mother ceased to mourn Her darling infants closed within their urn. The busy hum of crowded streets was still ; And still the watchdog’s larum loud and shrill. The queen of darkness trod her awful round, Her ears untroubled by a vagrant sound. Medea’s couch refused the soft control, For love and Jason agonized her soul, The bulls that breathe intolerable fire, Forebodings mortal to her love inspire ; The plain of Mars in dismal prospect lies, In fancy there the youthful hero dies. Distracting thought! she feels the fluttering heart With feverish throbbings in her bosom dart. As when, from caldron or capacious vase, The trembling lymph reflects the solar face; Uncertain glancing round some chamber walls, Now here, now there, the darted radiance falls ; The dazzling species plays incessant round, Strikes on the roof, or dances o’er the ground; With pulse irregular, that knew no rest, Medea’s heart leap’d fluttering in her breast. The streams of pity from her eyes distill’d. Corroding pangs her inmost bosom fill’d, TRANSLATIONS. 59 Incessant anguish. The devouring flame Glows in each nerve, and wastes the weary frame. It rends the heartstrings—hurries in each vein; Fills every sense, and fires the madding brain. Within her mind confused ideas roll, Discordant purposes distract the soul. Now, she determines to supply the charms Of power, to save the youth from fiery harms ; Now, to withhold; and seek in death to prove A long oblivion of disastrous love. Again, she hopes that reason force may give, To sacrifice the youth, yet dare to live. Amid this conflict, mournful sounds express’d The painful tumults of the’ enamour’d breast. ‘Ah,wretch! what end,what respite canst thou find While choice of evil presses on the mind? My thoughts are error, doubt, confusion all ; Certain in love alone, a wretched thrall. Oh, had the shafts of virgin Dian fled, And early join’d me to the silent dead! Then had I slept in peace, nor seen this band, For my perdition, reach the Colchian land. Nor seen, Chalciopé, in evil day, Thy sons for Greece the’ adventurous sail display. Some god, some fury urged these strangers’ course, To rend this heart with anguish and remorse. But let him perish, if the fates ordain That direful exit on the martial plain. How might I scape a parent’s watchful eye ? Or how my philtres and my charms apply? What language might deceive the jealous ear? Or what my purposes to Jason bear? In privacy may succour be convey’d? Whatarts, what stealth, the bold attempt shall aid? 60 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp, Sa, In secret shall I own my fond alarms, And boldly clasp the stranger in these arms? Oh! were he lost—would that event bestow A pause from love—a remedy for woe? Would not the soul, enamour’d of her grief, Pursue his image, and disclaim relief ? Farewell, decorum! farewell, every joy! Let his existence all my thoughts employ. Whatever destiny for me remains, , Fair youth, in safety fly where fate ordains. Mayst thou but know, that from Medea’s power Protection follow’d in that fearful hour, And I am satisfied. Pursue thy fate ; Leave thy deliverer to misfortune’s hate. His conflict over, death shall end my care; Whether I perish pendulous in air, Or rest from pain the’ envenom’d potion give. But shall not then the tale of shame survive? Scorn and derision shall attend my fall, And taunts resound within this peopled wall. Each Colchian female shall her death deride, Who, slave of passion, for a stranger died. A wanton, heedless of her virgin fame, Who stain’d her parentsand her house withshame. O foul offence, no language can defend! Disgrace to womanhood, that ne’er shall end! No; better here resign this hated breath, And fly reproach, so multiplied, in death. This very chamber, and this very time, Present a refuge from the monstrous crime.’ She ceased—and rising for a coffer sought, With potent drugs of various influence fraught; Some genial; some, with operation dark, Could sense perturb, and quench the vital spark. TRANSLATIONS. 61 Upon her knees the hoarded philtres rest; While tears, a ceaseless torrent, bathed her breast: From grief and love unequal’d they descend, While for those sufferings she prepares an end, The friendly bane determined now to taste, She touch’d the bands that held the coffer fast ; And thought the balm of all her cares to find, When sudden terrors rush’d upon her mind. She paused astonish’d. - For, before her eyes The forms of death, in all their terrors, rise. And in succession, blandishing, appears All that allures the wish, and life endears ; Each darling child of hope and fancy bright, That bids the senses teem with young delight; And every joy that to the’ expanded heart The mutual wish ‘and social hours impart. Sudden a fairer face all nature show’d, . In streams more gay the solar radiance flow’d. Again the coffer on her knees she placed, While various objects in her soul she traced ; For Juno’s influence in her bosom wrought, And gave the final bias to her thought. No more she doubts, by warring motives drawn, With settled aim she wishes for the dawn; That Jason she might meet, gaze on his charms, And drugs impart to guard the youth from harms. Oft she unbarr’d her portals through the night; And look’d, and look’d, to mark approaching light. Ah, wretched maid! nor song nor sport had / power To fix attention in the sportive hour. Sport seem’d impertinent, and harsh the strain, Through music’s varied soul pursued in vain ; 62 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. y The varied melodies displease alike, No choru composure to the soul can strike. Scarce can her train allure the wandering eye, To different objects thought and wishes fly. Absent she sat, in meditation drown’d, -And gazed on all the distant pathways round ; Intent with eager eyes and head reclined, At sound of trampling foot or sighs of wind; The fluttering heart seem’d wing’d to leave her breast. And painful throbs the glowing breath suppress’d. He comes—the subject of her fond alarms— He comes in all the majesty of charms ; With footsteps light, exulting o’er the plain, And bright as Sirius rising from the main; All beauteous from the briny surge he springs, But death and mourning to the fold he brings; Such fatal splendour Jason’s charms impart, Joy to the sight, but sorrow to the heart: Sad interview, from thee the maid shall know A direful tissue of reproach and woe ! Her hurried heart within her bosom flies, A sudden darkness veils her swimming eyes ; Her burning cheek the deepest blush suffused, Her trembling knees to bear her frame refused. To fly or to proceed, vain, vain her toil ; Her feet beneath are rooted to the soil. Now quickly vanish’d all the’ attendant train, Silent the hero and the maid remain. No limb they moved; but, in astonish’d mood, With gaze delighted, near each other stood ; Nor sounds nor gestures animation show, Like oaks or firs that on the mountains grow; Whose peaceful heads all motionless arise, While not a breeze is stirring in the skies ; TRANSLATIONS. 63 But, when the tempests agitate the. steep, They wave, they bellow, as the whirlwinds sweep. Thus stood the youthful pair, ordain’d to prove A mighty change, beneath the storms of love ; Ordain’d that flowing eloquence to find, That passion dictates to the’ enamour’d mind. PRESTON. } THE REWARD OF THE GOOD. FROM THE GREEK OF PINDAR. THE happy mortal who these treasures shares, Well knows what fate attends his generous cares; Knows that beyond the verge of life and light, ‘In the sad regions of infernal night, The fierce, impracticable, churlish mind, Avenging gods and penal woes shall find ; Where strict inquiring justice shall bewray The crimes committed in the realms of day. The’ impartial judge the rigid law declares, No more to be reversed by penitence or prayers. But in the happy fields of light, Where Phoebus with an equal ray Uluminates the balmy night, And gilds the cloudless day, In peaceful unmolested joy, The good their smiling hours employ, Them no uneasy wants constrain To vex the’ ungrateful soil, To tempt the dangers of the billowy main, And break their strength with unabating toil, A frail disastrous being to maintain. 64 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pe xi But in their joyous calm abodes, The recompense of justice they receive ; And in the fellowship of gods Without a tear eternal ages live. While, banish’d by the Fates from joy and rest, Intolerable woes the impious soul infest. But they who, in true virtue strong, The third purgation* can endure ; And keep their minds from fraudful wrong And guilt’s contagion pure ; They through the starry paths of Jove To Saturn’s blissful seat remove ; Where fragrant breezes, Vernal airs, Sweet children of the main, Purge the bless’d island from corroding cares, And fan the bosom of each verdant plain ; Whose fertile soil immortal fruitage bears : Trees, from whose flaming branches flow, Avray’d in golden bloom, refulgent beams ; And flowers of golden hue that blow On the fresh borders of their parent streams. These by the bless’d in solemn triumph worn, Their unpolluted hands and clustering locks adorn, WEST. * Pindar in this follows the opinion of Pythagoras, who held the transmigration of the soul; according to which doctrine the several bodies, into which the soul successively passes, were so many purgatories, that served to refine and purify it by de- grees, till it was at last rendered fit to enter into the Fortunate Islands, the Paradise of the Ancients- x TRANSLATIONS, 65 TO THE LYRE. FROM THE GREEK OF PINDAR. HAIL, golden lyre! whose heaven-invented string To Phoebus and the black-hair’d Nine belongs ; Who in sweet chorus round their tuneful king Mix with their sounding chords their sacred songs. The dance, gay queen of pleasure, thee attends; Thy jocund strains her listening feet inspire: ‘And each melodious tongue its voice suspends Till thou, great leader of the heavenly quire, With wanton art preluding givest the sign— Swells the full concert then with harmony divine. Then, of their streaming lightnings all disarm’d, The smouldering thunderbolts of Jove expire : Then, by the music of thy numbers charm’d, The birds’ fierce monarch* drops his vengeful ire ; Perch’d on the sceptre of the’ Olympian king, The thrilling darts of harmony he feels ; And indolently hangs his rapid wing, While gentle sleep his closing eyelid seals ; And o’er his heaving wings in loose array To every balmy gale the’ ruffling feathers play. E’en Mars, stern god of violence and war, Soothes with thy lulling strains his furious breast, And, driving from his heart each bloody care, His pointed lance consigns to peaceful rest. * The eagle. VOL. Vi. K 66 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. Nor less enraptured each immortal mind Owns the soft influence of enchanting song, When, in melodious symphony combined, Thy son, Latona, and the tuneful throng Of Muses, skill’d in wisdom’s deepest lore, The subtle powers of verse and harmony explore. WEST. MARTIAL ELEGY. FROM THE GREEK OF TYRTZUS. How glorious fall the valiant, sword in hand, In front of battle for their native land! But oh! what ills await the wretch that yields A recreant outcast from his country’s fields! The mother whom he loves shall quit her home, An aged father at his side shall roam ; His little ones shall weeping with him go, And a young wife participate his woe; Whilst scorn’d and scowl’d upon by every face, They pine for food, and beg from place to place. Stain ofhis breed! dishonouring manhood’s form, All ills shall cleave to him:—Afiliction’s storm Shall blind him wandering in the vale of years, Till, lost to all but ignominious fears, He shall not blush to leave a recreant’s name, And children, like himself, inured to shame. But we will combat for our father’s land, And we will drain the life-blood where we stand To save our children :—fight ye side by side, And serried close, ye men of youthful pride, Disdaining fear, and deeming light the cost Of life itself in glorious battle lost. TRANSLATIONS, 67 Leave not our sires to stem the’ unequal fight, Whose limbs are neryed no more with buoyant might ; Nor lagging backward, let the younger breast Permit the man of age (a sight unbless’d) To welter in the combat’s foremost thrust, His hoary head dishevel’d in the dust, And venerable bosom hleeding bare. But youth’s fair form, though fallen, is ever fair, And beautiful in death the boy appears, The hero boy, that dies in blooming years : In man’s regret he lives and woman’s tears, More sacred than in life, and lovelier far, For having perish’d in the front of war. CAMPBELL. THE CRETAN WARRIOR, FROM THE GREEK OF HYBRIAS CRETENSIS. My spear, my sword, my shaggy shield! With these I till, with these I sow: With these I reap my harvest field ; No other wealth the gods bestow. With these I plant the fertile vine ; With these I press the luscious wine. My spear, my sword, my shaggy shield! They make me lord of all below, For those that dread my spear to wield efore my shaggy shield must bow: Their fields, their vineyards, they resign ; And all that cowards have is mine. DR. LEYDEN. 68 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. ODES. FROM THE GREEK OF ANACREON, WHILE we inyoke the wreathed spring, Resplendent rose! to thee we’ll sing; Resplendent rose! the flower of flowers, Whose breath perfumes Olympus’ bowers Whose virgin blush, of chasten’d dye, Enchants so much our mortal eye. When pleasure’s bloomy season glows, The Graces love to twine the rose ; The rose is warm Dione’s bliss, And flushes like Dione’s kiss! Oft has the poet’s magic tongue The rose’s fair luxuriance sung ; And long the Muses, heavenly maids, Have rear’d it in their tuneful shades. When, at the early glance of morn, It sleeps upon the glittering thorn, *Tis sweet to dare the tangled fence, To cull the timid floweret thence, And wipe with tender hand away The tear that on its blushes lay! ’Tis sweet to hold the infant stems, Yet dropping with Aurora’s gems, And fresh inhale the spicy sighs That from the weeping buds arise. When revel reigns, when mirth is high, And Bacchus beams in every eye, Our rosy fillets scent exhale, And fills with balm the fainting gale! P. XI. ? TRANSLATIONS. 69 Oh! there is nought in nature bright, - Where roses do not shed their light! When morning paints the orient skies, Her fingers burn with roseate dyes ; The nymphs display the rose’s charms, It mantles o’er their graceful arms ; Through Cytherea’s form it glows, _ And mingles with the living snows. The rose distils a healing balm, The beating pulse of pain to calm; Preserves the cold inurned clay, And mocks the vestige of decay: And when at length, in pale decline, Its florid beauties fade and pine, Sweet as in youth, its balmy breath Diffuses odour e’en in death! Oh! whence could such a plant have sprung? Attend—for thus the tale is sung. When, humid, from the silvery stream, Effusing beauty’s warmest beam, Venus appear’d, in flushing hues, Mellow’d by ocean’s briny dews ; When, in the starry courts above _The pregnant brain of mighty Jove Disclosed the nymph of azure glance, The nymph who shakes the martial lance! Then, then in strange eventful hour, The earth produced an infant flower, Which sprung, with blushing tinctures dress’d, And wanton’d o’er its parent breast. The gods beheld this brilliant birth, And hail’d the rose, the boon of earth! With nectar drops, a ruby tide, The sweetly orient buds they dyed, 70 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. 1. 8 And bade them bloom, the flowers divine Of him who sheds the teeming vine; And bade them on the spangled thorn Expand their bosoms to the morn. T. MOORE. Best of painters! now dispense All thy tinted eloquence: Master of the roseate art, Paint the mistress of my heart. Paint her, absent though she be, Paint her, as described by me. Paint her hair in tresses flowing : Black as jet her ringlets glowing: If the pallet soar so high, Paint their humid fragrancy. Let the colour smoothly show The gentle prominence of brow; Smooth as ivory let it shine, Under locks of glossy twine. Now her eyebrows lengthening bend ; Neither sever them, nor blend : Imperceptible the space Of their meeting arches trace: Be the picture like the maid; Her dark eyelids fringed with shade. Now the real glance inspire ; Let it dart a liquid fire : Let her eyes reflect the day, Like Minerva’s, hazel-gray, Like those of Venus, swimming bright, Brimful of moisture and of light. Now her faultless nose design In its flowing aquiline: TRANSLATIONS. ee | Let her cheeks transparent gleam, Like to roses strew’d in cream: Let her lips, seduce to bliss, Pouting to provoke the kiss. Now her chin minute express, Rounded into prettiness : There let all the Graces play; In that dimpled circle stray ; Round her bended neck delay: Marble pillar, on the sight Shedding smooth its slippery white. For the rest, let drapery swim In purplish folds o’er every limb ; But, with flimsy texture, show The shape, the skin, that partial glow: Enough—herself appears; ’tis done ; The picture breathes; the paint will speak anon. ELTON. CUPID once upon a bed Of roses laid his weary head ; Luckless urchin, not to see Within the leaves a slumbering bee! The bee awaked—with anger wild The bee awaked, and stung the child. Loud and piteous are his cries ; To Venus quick he runs, he flies! ‘Oh mother! I am wounded through— I die with pain—in sooth I do! Stung by some little angry thing, Some serpent on a tiny wing— A bee it was—for once, I know I heard a rustic call it so.’ “sy bo ELEGANT EXTRACTS, Pp, XI, Thus he spoke, and she the while Heard him with a soothing smile; Then said, ‘‘ My infant, if so much Thou feel the little wild bee’s touch, How must the heart, oh, Cupid! be, The hapless heart that’s stung by thee!’ T. MOORE. FLY not, because revolving time Hath silver’d o’er Anacreon’s brow, Nor, glorying in thy flowery prime, Reject the incense of his vow! Think’st thou my winter ill agrees With the young charms thy spring discloses ? Remember, how those garlands please, Where lilies mingle with the roses! M. Sap Niobe, in cold despair, Was fix’d a stone on Phrygia’s shore : And through the boundless fields of air "Twas given Pandion’s child to soar. But I, a different change requiring, Make every vow for thee, my fair; Sometimes a mirror’s form desiring, Thine image on my breast to bear ; Or, as a robe, with soft embraces, About thy snowy limbs to fold ; Or, as a crystal stream, thy graces In mine encircling arms to hold; ’ TRANSLATIONS. - 73 A golden chain, with many a kiss Around thy snowy neck to twine; Or on thy breast, that heaven of bliss And love, a radiant pearl to shine: Or with an humbler fate delighted, A sandal for thy feet I’d be: Trampled upon, neglected, slighted, Even this would be felicity. > ODE. FROM THE GREEK OF SAPPHO. BLEss’p as the immortal Gods is he, The youth who fondly sits by thee, And hears and sees thee, all the while, Softly speak and sweetly smile. ’*T was this deprived my soul of rest, And raised such tumults in my breast; For, while I gazed, in transport toss’d, My breath was gone, my voice was lost; My bosom glow’d ; the subtle flame Ran quick through all my vital frame; O’er my dim eyes a darkness hung; My ears with hollowy murmurs rung. In dewy damps my limbs were chill’d; My blood with gentle horrors thrill’d; My feeble pulse forgot to play ; I fainted, sunk, and died away. A. PHILIPS. VOL. VI. L 74 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, HYMN TO VENUS. FROM THE GREEK OF SAPPHO, O VeENus, beauty of the skies, To whom a thousand temples rise, Gaily false in gentle smiles, Full of love-perplexing wiles: O goddess, from my heart remove The wasting cares and pains of love. If ever thou hast kindly heard A song in soft distress preferr’d, Propitious to my tuneful vow, Oh, gentle goddess! hear me now : Descend, thou bright immortal guest, In all thy radiant charms confess’d. Thou once didst leave almighty Jove, And all the golden roofs above, The car thy wanton sparrows drew: Hovering in air they lightly flew : As to my bower they wing’d their way. PF saw their quivering pinions play. The birds dismiss’d (while you remain) Bore back their empty car again: Then you, with looks divinely mild, In every heavenly feature smiled, And ask’d what new complaints I made, _ And why I call’d you to my aid: What frenzy in my bosom raged, And by what cure to be assuaged, What gentle youth I would allure, Whom in my artful toils secure : - XI. TRANSLATIONS. 75 Who does thy tender heart subdue, Tell me, my Sappho, tell me who? Though now he shuns thy longing arms, He soon shall court thy slighted charms: Though now thy offerings he despise, He soon to thee shall sacrifice : Though now he freeze, he soon shall burn, And be thy victim in his turn. Celestial visitant, once more Thy needful presence I implore! In pity come and ease my grief, Bring my distemper’d soul relief, Favour thy suppliant’s hidden fires, And give me all my heart desires. A, PHILIPS. THE DESPAIRING LOVER. FROM THE GREEK OF THEOCRITUS. AN amorous shepherd loved a cruel maid ; And breathed vain wishes, all with scorn repaid. Her beauteous figure but belied her mind— A form too lovely, with a soul unkind ! She knew not Cupid, or his bitter dart; She knew not Cupid’s power to tame the heart. No blush of love in soft suffusion bloom’d, Nor pity’s dewy light her eyes illumed. His raging wound she ne’er.assay’d to calm ; Nor pour’d, in kisses or in sighs, a balm! But savage as the wildest beast that prowls, That on the forest-hunters grimly scowls, 76 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. No parley could her fiery spirit brook ; Lour’d her dark eyes, and death was in her look! Oft from her face the roseate colour flew, And her whole soul in anger rush’d to view ! Yet was she fair, and e’en disdain had charms— He sigh’d to snatch her frowning to his arms! At length, bewilder’d in the gloom of Fate, He sought with trembling steps the virgin’s gate ; Kiss’d the bare threshold, hung his throbbing head ; And, his tears gushing in a torrent, said— “¢ Ah, cruel fair! in some wild forest born! Thy hatred—love; and all thy pleasure—scorn ! Thy nurse—the bloody lioness alone: Thy cold, cold heart—impenetrable stone! Take—take this cord—'tis all I now can give— I go (nor longer will thy torment live) To where the wretched find relief I go— Where lovers drink oblivion of their woe! Yet what—this scorching fever—what can tame? Alas! all Lethe could not quench the flame! Adieu, ye gates, to meet these eyes no more ; Farewell! I see what time reserves in store! Fair is the rose, yet soon its beauty flies! Soon the sweet violet, soon the lily, dies! Soon melts the whiteness of the fleeting snow; Thus passes youth! thus fades its vernal glow! The time will come, when e’en thy heart shall prove, While stream thy bitter tears, the pangs of love! Yet grant this prayer, alas! I ask no more, When thou shalt see me pendent at thy door, Oh pass not—pass not by—but kindly shed A tear of pity to embalm the dead! And loose the cord; and o’er me lightly throw Your shading robe; and then one kiss bestow; TRANSLATIONS. Tt At least refuse not such a boon in death— Fear not, no kisses can restore my breath ; Oh! fear not—I shall never more arise! F’en though thou kiss with soft relenting sighs! Last, duly dug, my sepulchre provide, My love and me its hollow cell shall hide! And thrice ‘ Here rests my friend !’ departing say ; Or rather cry, ‘ Here lies my true love’s clay Then let this simple epitaph be mine (My trembling hand now traces the faint line), ‘ Love slew him, traveller!—stop—to soothe his shade! And pitying say, he loved a ruthless maid This said, and in despairing frenzy bold, High by the wall a ponderous stone he roll’d; Then, climbing, fix’d the cord above, and tied The fatal noose, and spurn’d the stone aside— Quivering in death! the fair one, when she saw _Her pendent lover, show’d no signs of awe, Nor shed one tear; but scornful glances cast, And her light robe polluted, as she pass’d; Then ran to view the wrestlers in the grove; Thence visiting the bath devote to love: There Cupid’s image on a marble base Stood frowning o’er the consecrated place ; And, instant, as he saw the fair one lave, He fell, and crush’d her in the fountain wave! Life’s purple current spouted at the blow, And these last words came faltering from below— “‘ Lovers, adieu! behold the scorner dies! Love those that love! for Heaven’s decrees are wise.” 17? POLWHELE. 78 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp. Si. THE HONEY STEALER. FROM THE GREEK OF THEOCRITUS. As Cupid once, the arrant’st rogue alive, Robb’d the sweet treasures of the fragrant hive, A bee the frolic urchin’s finger stung— With many a loud complaint his hands he wrung, Stamp’d wild the ground, his rosy finger blew, And straight, in anguish, to his mother flew: “ Mother (he cried, in tears all frantic drown’d), ’Twas but a little bee! and what a wound!’ But she with smiles her. hapless boy survey’d, And thus, in chiding accents, sweetly said— ‘ Of thee a truer type is no where found— Who, though so little, givest so great a wound!’ POLWHELE. HYMN TO THE EVENING STAR. FROM THE GREEK OF BION, Murp star of Eve, whose tranquil beams Are grateful to the Queen of Love, Fair planet, whose effulgence gleams More bright than all the host above, And only to the moon’s clear light Yields the first honours of the night! All hail, thou soft, thou holy star, Thou glory of the midnight sky! And when my steps are wandering far, Leading the shepherd minstrelsy, Then, if the moon deny her ray, Oh guide me, Hesper, on my way! TRANSLATIONS. 79 No savage robber of the dark, No foul assassin claims thy aid, _To guide his dagger to its mark, Or light him on his plundering trade; My gentler errand is to prove The transports of requited love. CUPID AND THE FOWLER. FROM THE GREEK OF BION, OncE a youth, as he fowl’d in the midst of a grove, On the branch of a boxtree saw fugitive Love: In triumph he leap’d; and in hopes of a prize (For he thought it a bird of a wonderful size), Selected and join’d his best twigs for a snare ; Then mark’d Cupid hopping, now here and now there. Impatient, at length, at so vain a delay, He flung all his twigs, in a passion, away ; And, eager his marvellous tale to impart, Ran up to the man who had taught him his art: And while the old rustic stood holding the plough, Pointed out the strange bird that had perch’d on a bough. The countryman shaking his head, with a smile, Said archly—‘ Ah, try not with twigs to beguile Such dangerous game—O, avoid it, my boy! ’Tis a fell bird of prey, and but form’d to destroy. Thrice happy, if never you catch him!—then shun A frolic, whose end will have nothing of fun! 80 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. For, believe me, ere long, when to manhood you rise, Though now, simple youth, as you follow, he flies ; His pinions around you he’ll suddenly spread, And familiarly flutter, and perch on your head.’ POLWHELE. IDYLL. FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS, O’rR the smooth main,when scarce a zephyr blows To break the dark blue ocean’s deep repose, I seek the calmness of the breathing shore, Delighted with the fields and woods no more. But when, white-foaming, heave the deeps on high, Swells the black storm, and mingles sea with sky, Trembling, I fly the wild tempestuous strand, And seek the close recesses of the land. Sweet are the sounds that murmur through the wood [flood ; While roaring storms upheave the dangerous Then, if the winds more fiercely howl, they rouse But sweeter music in the pine’s tall boughs. Hard is the life the weary fisher finds, Who trusts his floating mansion to the winds, Whose daily food the fickle sea maintains, Unchanging labour, and uncertain gains. Be mine soft sleep, beneath the spreading shade Of some broad leafy plane inglorious laid, Luli’d by a fountain’s fall, that, murmuring near, Soothes, not alarms, the toil-worn labourer’s ear. M. TRANSLATIONS, $1 THE STRAY CUPID. FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS. As Cupid from his mother Venus stray’d, Thus, crying him aloud, the goddess said— ‘ If any one a wandering Cupid see, The little fugitive belongs to me. And if he tell what path the rogue pursues, My kisses shall reward him for the news: But if he bring me back the boy I miss, I'll give him something sweeter than a kiss. So plain—so numerous are his marks, you’ll own That even among a score he may be known. Flame colour’d is his glowing skin—not white ; Fierce are his eyes, that flash malignant light. Smooth are his words, his voice as honey sweet, Yet war is in his heart, and dark deceit! Provoke him—and his rage all check defies— Frantic, in other’s woe his pastime lies. Bright clustering locks his lovely forehead grace, But insolent expression marks his face. Though little are his hands, those hands can fling Darts e’en to Acheron, and the’ infernal king. Though bare his body, yet no art can find A clue to trace the motions of his mind. As the fleet bird, on airy pinions light, From men to sighing maids he wings his flight; Now here, now there, in many a circle strays, Yet perching, on their vitals inly preys. Lo! ready from his little bow to fly— His arrow, swift though slight, can pierce thesky. A golden quiver on his shoulder glows, And holds the’ imbitter’d darts for friends or foes. VOL. VI. M 82 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. E’en I their frequent wounds would yainly shun! But his fell torch—its blaze e’en dims the sun! If you secure the wanderer, bring him bound ; Nor mind him,though he cry and stamp the ground ! And trust him not, though smiling he appears ; Alike deceitful are his smiles and tears. To kiss you, sweetly laughing, should he try, Fly him—there’s poison in his kisses—fly! But if he say : ‘ How idle your alarms! Here, take my darts—my arrows—take my arms !” Ah! touch them not— beware the treacherous aim ; His darts, his arrows, all are tipp’d with flame. POLWHELE. THE SACKING OF A CITY. FROM THE GREEK OF /ESCHYLUS. BEFORE my sad presaging soul What scenes of imaged horror roll! I see the tender virgin’s woe, Ere yet her ripen’d beauties glow; The hateful way I see her tread, Forcibly torn from her sweet home: Happier, far happier are the dead; They rest within the silent tomb. But, the walls humbled to the ground, What dreadful miseries rage around! Furious one leads the vengeful bands; One stains with blood his reeking hands; Wide roll, outrageous to destroy, The dusky smoke, and torrent fires ; Whilst slaughtering Mars with hideous joy The heaven-contemning rage inspires. TRANSLATIONS. 83 From house to house, from street to street *, The crashing flames roar round, and meet; Each way the fiery deluge preys, And girds us with the circling blaze. The brave, that midst these dire alarms "For their lost country greatly dare, - And fired with vengeance rush to arms, Fall victims to the blood-stain’d spear. The bleeding babe, with innocent cries, Drops from his mother’s breast, and dies. See Rapine rushes, bent on prey, His hasty step brooks no delay. The spoiler, loaded with his store, Envious the loaded spoiler views ; Disdains another should have more, And his insatiate toil renews. Thick on the earth the rich spoil lies: For the rude plunderers’ restless rolling tide, Their worthless numbers waving wide, Drop in their wild haste many a glittering prize. Whilst, in her chaste apartment bred, The trembling virgin, captive led, Pours, in the anguish of her soul, the tear: And, torn from all her heart holds dear, The youthful bride, a novice yet in woe, Obeys the haughty happy foe. But ere such horrors blast my sight, May these sad eyes close in eternal night! POTTER. * The translator makes no apology for adopting the inter- pretation of Pauw. Periti sciunt. 84 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp. XB ELECTRA TAKING THE URN OF ‘ORESTES. FROM THE GREEK OF SOPHOCLES. During the absence of Agamemnon, Agysthus was left regent, ~ and protector of his wifeand children. Faithless to his trust, he intrigues with Clytamnestra: she murders her husband on his return; marries Agysthus, and admits him as partner of her throne. To secure their power, they are bent on the murder of Orestes, heir to the crown, who would have fallen a sacrifice in his infancy, but for the affection of his sister Electra, who rescaes him from death by privately sending him to Phocis. Meanwhile she hears frequent accounts of him, and cherishes a hope that when he has arrived at man- hood he will return and be the avenger of his father. After the lapse of twenty years he arrives for that purpose, in company with his protector. To lull Clytzmnestra into a fatal security, his companion relates to her that Orestes has been killed in a chariot race. A meeting between the bro- ther and sister takes place, without any remembrance on either side. Orestes, mistaking Electra for one of the do- mestics, and desirous to keep his arrival a secret until the hour for vengeance should arrive, carries on the delusion by producing an urn in which his ashes are supposed to rest. Electra, believing him to be really dead, takes the urn in despair, and discovers herself by this passionate and beauti- ful address, MournFvL remembrancer, whose orb contains Whate’er of dear Orestes now remains, How dead my hopes in thee, but lately sent A blooming boy to happy banishment ; For now I bear whatever lived of thee In this small record of mortality ! Oh had I died, before to foreign lands I sent thee rescued from the murderer’s hands! Then had we shared one melancholy doom, And peaceful slumber’d in thy father’s tomb. TRANSLATIONS. 85 Afar from home, beneath another sky Thou diedst—and ah! no sister then was nigh To bathe thy corse, and from the greedy fire Collect thy ashes, as the dead require ; But strangers paid the debt: who now return Thy cherish’d dust within this little urn. And have I watch’d thine infancy in vain With lengthen’d hope,and love that sweeten’d pain? Shielded thine innocence from dangers rude With more than parents’ fond solicitude ? Ta’en thee from menial hands, myself thy slave, _ And rear’d thee, brother—only for the grave ? Now barren all my hopeful cares are made, Lost with thy life, unfruitful as thy shade. Oh thou hast gone, and like the whirlwind’s force Swept all away together in thy course. Dead is my sire, and I, who lived alone ‘In thee, no longer live, since thou art gone. Our foes exult—our mother wild with joy (Alas, no mother) hails her lifeless boy, For whom I waited as my sorrow’s friend, Avenger of his father’s timeless end ; But now, instead, o’er this sad urn I weep, Where his poor ashes cold and silent sleep. Oh piteous corse !—oh brother, sent to tread Before this wretch the regions of the dead, How hast thou left me to my foes a prey, How has thy funeral swept my hopes away? Yet take me, gentle brother—give me room To rest beside thee in this narrow tomb, That, as we shared affliction when alive, Our boundless love may in the shades survive, While our dust slumbers, mix’d by friendly fate, Dull and unconscious of a mother’s hate. BLAND. 86 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. THE FAREWELL OF ADMETUS TO ALCESTIS. FROM THE GREEK OF EURIPIDES. os Admetus, a prince of Thessaly, was married to Alcestis, of whom he was passionately enamonred. Their happiness was interrupted by the declining health of Admetus, who was fast approaching to the grave. The infernal powers, how- ever, grant him a reprieve, on condition of finding a substi- tute, who would, by a voluntary death, pay the price of his recovery. After the refusal of his aged parents, who are re- presented to have outlived the sense of those pleasures, which among barbarous nations can alone make life acceptable, his wife Alcestis prepares to devote herself, that the husband might survive to be the protector of their chiJdren. To re- concile the seeming cowardice of Admetus with the noble affection displayed for his wife, and the generosity of his disposition, we must suppose him forbidden by the Fates from preventing the sacrifice of his wife by his own devo- tion. A parting scene of the most exquisite tenderness en- sues. Alcestis exhorts her*husband to live, and be guardian of their offspring; but requests him to bear her in his me- mory, and never to surrender that place in his heart to another which was once hers alone. He promises never to forget her, to pass his days in mourning for her loss, and to devote the remnant of his life to the contemplation of her virtues and her last act of heroic affection. I Grant thee all—distrust not, gentle wife— Dead thou art mine, thou only, as in life ; No bride of all Thessalia’s blooming race Shall call me husband second in thy place, Not though she mate thy high nobility, Nor yield in angel loveliness to thee. Enoughof children—guard them, Heaven, I pray, For her ye only lent, and tore away; Not for a year, but while my pulses beat, In this poor heart while memory holds a seat, TRANSLATIONS. 87 So long ’ll mourn thee on this hateful earth, Curse my gray sire, and her who gave me birth, Who fear’d to die, though bow’d by grief and time, But sent thee dress’d in smiles, and in thy prime, Torn from the joys of youth and nuptial bed, A ransom for thy lord, to join the dead. Farewell to revel, and the festive throng, To wanton garlands, dance, and social song ; Henceforth to me, sweet instruments, be mute, The harp’s wild raptures, and the Libyan flute, All that was pleasure once my thoughts resign, For all my joys are buried in thy shrine. Tl have thee moulded as in life, and bear To my lone couch thy image sadly dear; Fall on the semblance, clasp it in my arms, Name it from thee—and, circling fancied charms, Gaze on the fair deceit, nor e’er forsake The death-cold statue, till it seems to wake. Poor comfort—but in trifles light as these My aching heart shall idly ask for ease. Yet in the dead still hour of night arise, When troubled phantoms flit before my eyes, Thou shalt not fright me, but my senses close In dreams of gentleness and lost repose. Oh, had I voice and power of song to melt The prince of night, who once for Orpheus felt, Pleased would I journey o’er these dreary coasts, And bear thee, dearest, from the land of ghosts ; Ne’er should I tremble at that fearful way, But wake thy eyes to smile upon the day. Vain, idle thoughts! In those sad realms await Thy husband’s coming when released by fate ; One common mansion for our shades prepare, That our rent loves may join eternal there: 88 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. And when I die, to friendship I entrust In one small urn to mix our kindred dust; For as we loved on earth, the graye shall be Dearer than life in thy society. BLAND. A CHORUS. FROM THE GREEK OF EURIPIDES. THE rites derived from ancient days With thoughtless reverence we praise, - The rites that taught us to combine The joys of music and of wine; That bade the feast, the song, the bowl O’erfill the saturated soul, But ne’er the lute nor lyre applied To soothe despair or soften pride, Nor call’d them to the gloomy cells Where Madness raves and Vengeance swells, - Where Hate sits musing to betray, And Murder meditates his prey. To dens of guilt and shades of care, Ye sons of melody, repair, Nor deign the festive hour to cloy With superfluity of joy! Ah, little needs the minstrel’s power To speed the light convivial hour ; The board with varied plenty crown’d May spare the luxury of sound. JOHNSON. TRANSLATIONS, 89 REPROOF OF DISCONTENT. FROM THE GREEK OF MENANDER, HADst only thou, of all mankind, been born To walk in paths untroubled by a thorn, From the first hour that gave thee vital air Consign’d to pleasure, and exempt from care, Heedless to wile away the day and night In one unbroken banquet of delight, Pamper each ruling sense, secure from ill, And own no law superior to thy will; If partial Heaven had ever sworn to give This happy right as thy prerogative, Then blame the gods, and call thy life the worst, Thyself of all mankind the most accursed! But if with us the common air you draw, Subject alike to Nature’s general law, And on thy head an equal portion fall Of life’s afflicting weight imposed on all, Take courage from necessity, and try Boldly to meet the foe thou canst not fly. Thou art a man, like others, doom’d to feel The quick descent of Fortune’s giddy wheel; Weak human race! we strive to soar from sight With wings unfitted to the daring flight; Restless each fleeting object to obtain, We lose in minutes what in years we gain: Butwhy shouldst thou, my honour’d friend,repine ? No grief peculiar or unknown is thine ! Though Fortune smile no more as once she smiled, Nor pour her gifts on thee, her favourite child, Patient and firm, the present ill redress, Nor, by despairing, make thy little less. BLAND. VOL. VI. N 50 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, P. XI. Translations from the Minor Greek Ports. THE COMPLAINT OF DANAE. WHEN the wind resounding, high, Bluster’d from the northern sky, When the waves, in stronger tide, Dash’d against the vessel’s side, Her care-worn cheek with tears bedew’d, Her sleeping infant Danaé view’d. And trembling still with new alarms, Around him cast a mother’s arms. ‘ My child! what woes does Danaé weep! But thy young limbs are wrapp’d in sleep. In that poor nook all sad and dark, While lightnings play around our bark, Thy quiet bosom only knows The heavy sigh of deep repose. The howling wind, the raging sea No terror can excite in thee; The angry surges wake no care, That burst above thy long deep hair; ~ But couldst thou feel what I deplore, Then would I bid thee sleep the more! Sleep on, sweet boy! still be the deep! Oh could I lull my woes to sleep! "i Jove, let thy mighty hand o’erthrow The baffled malice of my foe; And may this child, in future years, Avenge his mother’s wrongs and tears!’ SIMONIDES. D. TRANSLATIONS. HYMN TO HARMODIUS AND ARISTOGEITON. WITH myrtle will I braid my sword, Such as the brave Harmodius bore; When Athens hail’d her rights restored, And proud Hipparchus was no more: Nor art thou, dear Harmodius, dead! Thine are the islands of the bless’d, Where Heroes old, stout Diomed, And the swift son of Peleus rest. My sword with myrtle will I braid, Such as Aristogeiton bore; When, at Minerva’s shrine, the blade Dropp’d with the victim tyrant’s gore. Dear patriot pair! your fame shall bloom Immortal in the poet’s strain ; Who, by the tyrant’s righteous doom, Bade Athens flourish free again. CALLISTRATUS, F, LAURENCE. HYMN TO HEALTH. HEALTH, brightest visitant from heaven, Grant me with thee to rest! For the short term by Nature given Be thou my constant guest! For all the pride that wealth bestows, The pleasure that from children flows, Whate’er we court in regal state That makes men covet to be great, 91 92 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. Whatever sweets we hope to find In Love’s delightful snare, Whatever good by Heaven assign’d, Whatever pause from care, All flourish at thy smile divine ; The spring of loveliness is thine, And every joy that warms our hearts With thee approaches and departs. ARIPHRON, BLAND. ON A DAUGHTER WHO DIED YOUNG. SWEET maid, thy parents fondly thought To strew thy bride-bed, not thy bier; But thou hast left a being fraught With wiles and toils and anxious fear. For her remains a journey drear, For thee a bless’d eternal prime, Uniting, in thy short career, Youth’s blossom with the fruit of time. PAUL THE SILENTIARY. BLAND. THE OFFERING OF A DESERTED LOVER. To thee the reliques of a thousand flowers, Torn from the chaplet twined in gayer hours, To thee the goblet carved with skill divine, Erewhile that foam’d with soul-subduing wine, The locks, now scatter’d on the dusty ground, Once dropping odours and with garlands crown’d, Outcast of pleasure, and of hope bereft, Lais! to thee thy Corydon has left. Oft on thy threshold stretch’d at close of day, He wept and sigh’d the cheerless night away, L TRANSLATIONS. 93 Nor dared invoke thy name, nor dared aspire To melt thy bosom with his amorous fire, Or plead a gracious respite to his pain, Or speak the language of a happier swain. Alas! alas! ‘ now cold and senseless grown,’ These last sad offerings make his sorrows known, And dare upbraid those scornful charms which gave His youth unpitied to the cheerless grave. PAUL THE SILENTIARY. M. BEAUTY COMPARED WITH FLOWERS. WE ask no flowers to crown the blushing rose, Nor glittering gems thy beauteous form to deck, The pearl, in Persia’s precious gulf that glows, Yields to the dazzling whiteness of thy neck. Gold adds not to the lustre of thy hair, But, vanquish’d, sheds a fainter radiance there. The Indian hyacinth’s celestial hue Shrinks from the bright effulgence of thine eye, The Paphian cestus bathed thy lips in dew, And gave thy form ambrosial harmony. My soul would perish in the melting gaze, But for thine eyes, where Hope for ever plays. PAUL THE SILENTIARY. M. REMEMBRANCE AND FORGETFULNESS. Aut hail, Remembrance and Forgetfulness ! Trace, Memory,trace whate’er is sweet or kind— When friends forsake us, or misfortunes press, Oblivion, rase the record from our mind. MACEDONIUS, BLAND. 94 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. Ki A MOTHER ON THE DEATH OF HER SON. Au! dear hapless boy, art thou gone? Sole support of my languishing years! Hast thou left thy fond mother alone To wear out life’s evening in tears? To forsake me thus old and forlorn, Ere thy youth had attain’d its gay bloom! Thy sun was scarce risen at morn, When it set in the night of the tomb, Alas! the fresh beam of the day Happy mortals with thankfulness see ; But I sicken, O sun, at thy ray: It brings sadness and wailing to me ! Oh! might the dear child but return, From despair his lost mother to save! Or might I but share in his urn! Might I flee in his arms to the grave! LEONIDAS OF TARENTUM. WAKEFIELD. HOME. Criine to thy home! If there the meanest shed Yield thee a hearth and shelter for thine head, And some poor plot, with vegetables stored, Be all that Heaven allots thee for thy board, Unsavoury bread, and herbs that scatter’d grow, Wild on the river’s brink or mountain’s brow, Yet e’en this cheerless mansion shall provide More heart’s repose than all the world beside. LEONIDAS OF TARENTUM, BLAND. TRANSLATIONS, 95 ANACREONTIC. THE laughing women call me old, And bid me in the glass behold The ruins of my former state ; But let the locks my temples bear Be gray or black, I little care, And leave it to the will of Fate. Yet this I know—though Nature’s call Subjects me to the lot of all, Still, as my ebbing days decline, Vll make the most of my short hours, Be bathed in odours, crown’d with flowers, And drown old care in floods of wine. PALLADAS. M. CONJUGAL AFFECTION. SEE yonder blushing vine tree grow, And clasp a dry and wither’d plane, And round its youthful tendril throw A shelter from the wind and rain. That sapless trunk in former time Gave covert from the noontide blaze, And taught the infant shoot to climb, That now the pious debt repays. And thus, kind Powers, a partner give To share in my prosperity ; Hang on my strength while yet I live, And do me honour when I die. ANTIPATER, BLAND. 96 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. From the fair gardens of Elysian day They charm with cheerful talk her woes away ; And bind her scatter’d tresses; and conceal Her mantling blushes in a golden veil. Bursting in wild and animated notes, Through the dread gloom unusual music floats : Lo, the pale regions triumph at the sound, And all the buried nations dance around! The Manes, graced with wreaths, protract the feast, And fill’d with genial cheer, the shadows rest. Hell stills her groans, and rarefies her breath That charged the eternal night with blasts of death : Minos suspends the terrors of his urn: Echoes no scourge, no dying sorrows mourn! The gloom no tortured ghosts with horror fill, And writhed Ixion rests upon his wheel! See Tantalus, the stream with rapture caught, Allays the thirsty fever of his throat; TRANSLATIONS. 189 And Tityus lifts his monster limbs away From the nine acres, where outstretch’d he lay: While the fierce vulture feels her-power repress’d To scoop the living banquet of his breast, And, where no renovated fibres rise, To catch the bloody morsel vainly tries. Conyivial revels e’en the furies hold (Their listening snakes relax each placid fold) ; No more their flashing eyes in madness roll, But sparkle with the spirit of the bowl! From those fell lips, that pour’d the threats of woe, The melodies of melting music flow! And, while no sanguine torch betrays the gloom, Lights of pure flame the canopies illume! No baleful vapours from Avernus rise, Where the fleet bird on easy pinion flies : The floods, that fence his sable jaws around, No more, to fright the ear with horror, sound. Where roar’d rough Acheron, see a milky wave Sudden his banks in gentle murmurs lave; And flaunting o’er his purpling lake of wine, See verdant ivy round Cocytus twine! Each faltering thread of life the Fates renew ; No sacred chorus mourns the broken clue! With sighs no parents, o’er the breathing urn, Pay the last honours to the shade they mourn: No black procession breaks the city’s ease; No battles rage; no tempests sweep the seas. With reeds old Charon veil’d his tresses frore, Singing in concert with each dashing oar, POLWHELE. 190 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. THE CONTENTED OLD MAN. FROM THE LATIN OF CLAUDIAN, Happy his life who never pass’d the bounds, In youth or age, of his paternal grounds! Whom the same house on crutches sees, before That saw him crawling on his native floor. Whose early cradle and whose easy chair By one fireside have kept him free from care. Not him has fortune in her varied strife Dragg’d through the tumults of a public life. He ne’er has loved o’er barbarous realms to roam, Nor left the quiet habitudes of home. Not his the merchaut’s nor the soldier’s fears, Nor storms, nor wars, nor lawsuits reach his ears, Unskill’d in business, and the clamorous town, Freely he breathes, and feels his soul his own; Counts by his following crops his years increased, But knows no consul, living or deceased. His marks of time both use and beauty bring, His fruits are autumn, and his flowers are spring. If the sun lights, or darkness shades the plain, Still his horizon is his own domain. Yon giant oak he knew with scarce a limb, And the whole forest has grown old with him. Unknown to him as India’s distant skies, His own Verona’s neighbouring towers arise; Unknown to him as Erythrean floods, Thy lake, Benacus, cools his native woods. Firm is his strength, unconquer’d yet, though now Three generations to their founder bow. Let others search the farthest east or west— They may see life—enjoying it is best. REV. F. HODGSON. TRANSLATIONS. 191 ON THE MARRIAGE OF. HONORIUS. FROM THE LATIN OF CLAUDIAN, Lo! Hesper how, to Venus dear, His silvery shining lamp he rears; He marks the blushing virgin’s fear, And smiles to see her maiden tears. Yes ; soothe her, bridegroom.—Well he knows, Though smiles for such an hour were meeter, These tears, like dewdrops to the rose, Shall make her morning lip the sweeter. He of the thorn must take no heed Who would not let the bud go free; And he who would on honey feed Must never mark the angry bee. As when the rain-clouds make retreat The sudden day seems doubly clear, So there can be no kiss so sweet As one that’s usher’d by a tear.— ‘ War, I have known thee,’ shalt thou cry, ‘ The humbled foe—the victor’s bliss ; But never flash’d young warrior’s eye For conquest half so blest as this.’ Love, on thy couch, himself enthrones ; Reveal him—for he made ye one— And hear her tongue respond, in tones That silence’ self might dote upon. ce 192 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. Xi. Speak him—in many a broken sigh; Breathe all affection’s holiest balm ; Oh! clasp, with more of constancy Than e’er the ivy clasp’d the palm. , And when her languid lids shall close And in oblivious bliss she lies, Thy breath—like Sleep’s—shall shed repose Upon her silken-fringed eyes.— At the first peep of blushing morn, The joyous strain shall be renew’d, And gladness on each brow be worn, And mirth unlaced, and garlands strew’d. Nymphs—grant the smile, extend the hand; Swains—warriors—put on all your pride ; Winds, waft the voice from land to land, ‘ Honorius hath brought home his bride.’ ANONYMOUS. ON A QUIET LIFE. FROM THE LATIN OF AVIENUS. SMALL fields are mine ; a small and guiltless rent ; In both I prize the quiet of content: My mind maintains its peace; from feverish dread Secure, and fear of crimes, that sloth has bred. Others let toilsome camps or curule chairs Invite, and joys which vain ambition shares. May I, my lot among the people thrown, The badge of rank unsought for and unknown, Live to myself, and call my time my own. C. A. ELTON. ELEGANT EXTRACTS. FROM THE MOST EMINENT BRITISH POETS. PART XII. @ranslations. Behind her close he came ; her arm he press’d, Her arm just raised to pierce her beauteous breast. p, 302. Chiswick : PRINTED BY C. WHITTINGHAM 3 FOR CHARLES S. ARNOLD, TAVISTOCK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON. 1824. ; ELEGANT EXTRACTS. —_—__—— PART XII. Translations. en ODE TO JEHOVAH. FROM THE HEBREW OF MOSES™~. ty high Jehovah’s praise, my strain Of triumph shall the chorus lead, Who plunged beneath the rolling main The horseman with his vaunted steed. Dread breaker of our servile chains, By whom our arm in strength remains, The scented algum forms thy car! Our fathers’ God! Thy name we raise Beyond the bounds of mortal praise, The Chieftain and the Lord of war. Far in the caverns of the deep Their chariots sunk to rise no more; And Pharaoh’s mighty warriors sleep Where the Red Sea’s huge monsters roar. Plunged like a rock amid the wave, Around their heads the billows lave ; * Tt is scarcely necessary to say that this is a paraphrastic version of Exodus, chap. xv. v. 1—19; much of the sublimity of which Dr. Leyden has certainly failed to preserve. VOL. Vi. CC 4 194 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, P. XII, Down, down the yawning gulf they go, Dash’d by Thy high-expanded hand To pieces on the pointed sand, That strews the shelving rocks below. What lambent lightnings round Thee gleam, Thy foes in blackening heaps to strew! As o’er wide fields of stubble stream The flames, in undulation blue. And lo! the waters of the deep Swell into one enormous heap, Collected at Thy nostrils’ breath. The bosom of the abyss reveal’d, Wall’d with huge crystal waves congeal’d, Unfolds the yawning jaws of death. ‘ Swift steeds of Egypt, speed your course, And swift, ye rapid chariots, roll! Not ocean’s bed impedes our force; Red vengeance soon shall glut our soul; The sabre keen shall soon embrue Its glimmering edge in gory dew.’— Impatient cried the’ exulting foe ;— When like a ponderous mass of lead They sink—and sudden, o’er their head The bursting waves impetuous flow. But Thou, in whose sublime abode _ Resistless might and mercy dwell, Our voices, high o’er every god, With grateful hearts Thy praises swell! Outstretch’d we saw thy red right hand, The earth her solid jaws expand ; Adown the gulf alive they sink :— While we, within the’ incumbent main, Behold the tumbling floods in vain Storm on our narrow pathway’s brink. _—- ep ee eee TRANSLATIONS, 195 But, far as Fame’s shrill notes resound, With dire dismay the nations hear ; Old Edom’s sons with laurels crown’d, And Moab’s warriors melt with fear. The petrifying tale disarms The might of Canaan’s countless swarms, Appall’d their heroes sink supine ; No mailed band with thrilling cries The might of Jacob’s sons defies, That moves to conquer Palestine. Nor burning sands our way impede, Where nature’s glowing embers lie ; But led by Thee, we safely tread Beneath the furnace of the sky. To fields, where fertile olives twine Their branches with the clustering vine Soon shalt Thou Jacob’s armies bring ; To plant them by Thy mighty hand Where the proud towers of Salem stand ; And ever reign their God and King. Far in the deep unfathom’d caves Lie strew’d the flower of Mazur’s land, Save when the surge, that idly raves, Heayes their cold corses on the sand. With courage unappall’d, in vain They rush’d within the channel’d main, Their heads the billows folded o’er : While Thou hast Israel’s legions led Through the green ocean’s coral bed, To ancient Edom’s palmy shore. DR. LEYDEN. 196 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. oD SER PSALM CIV. FROM THE HEBREW. My soul, adore the Lord of might; With uncreated glory crown’d And clad in royalty of light, He draws the curtain’d heavens around ; Dark waters his pavilion form, Clouds are his car, his wheels the storm. Lightning before him, and behind Thunder rebounding to and fro; He walks upon the winged wind, And reins the blast, or lets it go: This goodly globe his wisdom plann’d, He fix’d the bounds of sea and land. When o’er a guilty world, of old, He summon’d the avenging main, At his rebuke the billows roll’d Back to their parent-gulf again: The mountains raised their joyful heads, Like new creations, from their beds. Henceforth the self-revolving tide Its daily fall and flow maintains; Through winding vales fresh fountains glide, Leap from the hills, or course the plains ; There thirsty cattle throng the brink, And the wild asses bend to drink. Fed by the currents, fruitful groves Expand their leaves, their fragrance fling, Where the cool breeze at noontide roves, And birds among the branches sing ; TRANSLATIONS. 197 Soft fall the showers when day declines, And sweet the peaceful rainbow shines. Grass through the meadows, rich with flowers, God’s bounty spreads for herds and flocks; On Lebanon his cedar towers, The wild goats bound upon his rocks ; Fowls in his forests build their nests, The stork amid the pinetree rests. To strengthen man, condemn’d to toil, He fills with grain the golden ear; Bids the ripe olive melt with oil, And swells the grape, man’s heart to cheer: The moon her tide of changing knows, Her orb with lustre ebbs and flows. The sun goes down, the stars come out; He maketh darkness, and ’tis night; Then roam the beasts of prey about, The desert rings with chase and flight : The lion and the lion’s brood Look up—and God provides them food. Morn dawns far east; ere long the sun Warms the glad nations with his beams ; Day, in their dens, the spoilers shun, And night returns to them in dreams : Man from his couch to labour goes, Till evening brings again repose. How manifold thy works, O Lord, In wisdom, power, and goodness wrought ! The earth is with thy riches stored, And ocean with thy wonders fraught : Unfathom’d caves beneath the deep - For Thee their hidden treasures keep. 198 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. i. There go the ships, with sails unfurl’d, By Thee directed on their way; There in his own mysterious world, Leviathan delights to play, And tribes that range immensity, Unknown to man, are known to Thee. By Thee alone the living live ;. Hide but thy face, their comforts fly ; They gather what thy seasons give ; Take Thou away their breath, they die. Send forth thy Spirit from above, And all is life again, and love. Joy in his works Jehovah takes, Yet to destruction they return; He looks upon the earth, it quakes; Touches the mountains, and they burn; Thou, God, for ever art the same: E am is thine unchanging name. MONTGOMERY. THE BATTLE OF SABLA. FROM THE ARABIC, SABLA, thou saw’st the’ exulting foe In fancied triumphs crown’d ; Thou heardst their frantic females throw These galling taunts around: *‘ Make now your choice—the terms we give, Desponding victims, hear : These fetters on your hands receive, Or in your hearts the spear.’ ‘\ TRANSLATIONS. 199 ‘ And is the conflict o’er (we cried), And lie we at your feet? And dare you vauntingly decide The fortune we must meet? ‘ A brighter day we soon shall see, Though now the prospect lours; And conquest, peace, and liberty Shall gild our future hours.’ The foe advanced :—in firm array We rush’d o’er Sabla’s sands, And the red sabre mark’d our way Amidst their yielding bands. -Then, as they writhed in death’s cold grasp, We cried, ‘ Our choice is made: These hands the sabre’s hilt shall clasp; Your hearts shall have the blade.’ CARLYLE. EPITAPH. FROM THE ARABIC. BEHOLD, a profligate his race hath run, And poor old Cassim mourns his lifeless son; He weeps, for the deceased hath left a brother ; Go, Death, go dry his tears, and take the other. J. GRANT. FO A LADY WEEPING. FROM THE ARABIC. WueEn I beheld thy blue eye shine Through the bright drop that pity drew, —__ I saw beneath those tears of thine A blue-eyed violet bathed in dew. 200 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp, Xi; The violet ever scents the gale, Its hues adorn the fairest wreath, But sweetest through a dewy veil Its colours glow, its odours breathe. And thus thy charms in brightness rise— When wit and pleasure round thee play, When mirth sits smiling in thine eyes, Who but admires their sprightly ray? But when through pity’s flood they gleam, Who but must love their soften’d beam? CARLYLE. TO THE COURIER DOVE. FROM THE ARABIC. Farr traveller of the pathless air, To Zara’s bowers these accents bear, Hid in the shade of palmy groves, And tell her where her wanderer roves ! But spread, O spread your pinion blue, To guard my lines from rain and dew: And when my charming fair you see, A thousand kisses bear from me, And softly murmur in her ear How much I wish that I were near. DR. LEYDEN. TO A FEMALE CUPBEARER. FROM THE ARABIC. Come, Leila, fill the goblet up, Reach round the rosy wine; Think not that we will take the cup From any hand but thine. TRANSLATIONS. 201 A draught like this ’twere vain to seek, No grape can such supply ; It steals its tints from Leila’s cheek, Its brightness from her eye. CARLYLE. ODE. FROM THE PERSIAN OF HAFIZ, SWEET maid, if thou wouldst charm my sight, And bid these arms thy neck infold ; That rosy cheek, that lily hand, Would give thy poet more delight Than all Bocara’s vaunted gold, Than all the gems of Samarcand. Boy! let yon liquid ruby flow, And bid thy pensive heart be glad, Whate’er the frowning zealots say :-— Tell them their Eden cannot show A stream so clear as Rocnabad, A bower so sweet as Mosellay. O! when these fair perfidious maids, Whose eyes our secret haunts infest, Their dear destructive charms display ;— Each glance my tender breast invades, And robs my wounded soul of rest, As Tartars seize their destined prey. In vain with love our bosoms glow: Can all our tears, can all our sighs New lustre to those charms impart? Can cheeks, where living roses blow, Where nature spreads her richest dyes, Require the borrow’d gloss of art? VOL. VI. DD 202 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. 2 ,ekil; Speak not of fate: —ah! change the theme, And talk of odours, talk of wine, Talk of the flowers that round us bloom :— Tis all a cloud, ’tis all a dream: To love and joy thy thoughts confine, Nor hope to pierce the sacred gloom. Beauty has such resistless power That e’en the chaste Egyptian dame Sigh’d for the blooming Hebrew boy ; For her how fatal was the hour When to the banks of Nilus came A youth so lovely and so coy! But ah, sweet maid! my counsel hear (Youth should attend when those advise Whom long experience renders sage),— While music charms the ravish’d ear, While sparkling cups delight our eyes, Be gay; and scorn the frowns of age. What cruel answer have I heard! And yet, by heaven, I love thee still: Can aught be cruel from thy lip? Yet say, how fell that bitter word From lips which streams of sweetness fill, Which nought but drops of honey sip? Go boldly forth, my simple lay, Whose accents flow with artless ease, Like orient pearls at random strung: Thy notes are sweet, the damsels say; But O! far sweeter, if they please The nymph for whom these notes are sung. SIR W. JONES. “ TRANSLATIONS. ODE. FROM THE PERSIAN OF HAFIZ, Ox! I have borne, and borne in vain, The pang of love’s delirious pain ; But she for whom my tear-drops fell, Oh! ask me, ask me not to tell. Oh! I have borne the lingering smart Of absence cankering in the heart ; But she for whom my tear-drops fell, Oh! ask me, ask me not to tell. Far have I roam’d with wandering feet, And found a fair so heavenly sweet That in my breast she still shall dwell, But ask me not her name to tell. How long her footsteps I pursued, How long with tears their prints bedew’d, How long she made my sighs to swell, Oh! ask me, ask me not to tell. Sounds of the kindest, tenderest tone, To fondest lovers only known, Last evening from her dear lips fell ; But ask me, ask me not to tell. Why frown and bite that angry lip? I love her honied kiss to sip: How soft the melting rubies swell! But ask me not her name to tell. Dear love! when far from thee I pine, All lonely is this home of mine, What sighs my tortured bosom swell, Oh! ask me, ask me not to tell. 203 204 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp. XII. To love’s dear bliss before unknown, To such a height has passion grown That Hafiz ne’er its power can quell; Then ask him, ask him not to tell. DR. LEYDEN. IN PRAISE OF WINE. FROM THE PERSIAN OF RUDEKI. He who my brimming cup shall view In trembling radiance shine, Shall own the ruby’s brilliant hue Is match’d by rosy wine. Each is a gem from Nature’s hand In living lustre bright ; But one congeals its radiance bland, One swims in liquid light. Ere you can touch, its sparkling dye Has left a splendid stain; Ere you can drink, the essence high Floats giddy through the brain. DR. LEYDEN. THE ASS AND THE STAG. FROM THE PERSIAN, ONCE on a time, no matter when,’ But ’twas some ages since; say ten— (For asses now more wise appear, And deer affect to herd with deer). Once on a time then, it is said, An Ass and Stag together fed ; 4 = - a ee . aS ee St ee a -—_ TRANSLATIONS. 205 In bonds of love so closely bound, That seldom were they separate found. The upland lawns when summer dried, They ranged the meadows side by side ; And when gaunt famine chased them thence, They overleap’d the garden fence, Dividing, without strife or coil, Like ministers of state, the spoil. In that gay season when the hours, Spring’s handmaids, strew the earth with flowers, Our pair walk’d forth, and frisk’d and play’d, And cropp’d the herbage as they stray’d. ’Twas evening—stillness reign’d around, And dews refresh’d the thirsty ground ; When, homeward browsing, both inhale Unusual fragrance from the gale. It was a garden, compass’d round With thorns, (a perfect Indian mound), Through which they saw enough within To make a drove of asses sin. No watchdog—gardener—all was hush’d ; They bless’d their stars, and in they push’d; Fell to with eager haste, and wasted Ten cabbages for one they tasted. And now the Ass (to fulness fed) Cherish’d strange fancies in his head ; On Nature’s carpet idly roll’d, By care or prudence uncontroll’d ; His pride froth’d up, his self conceit, And thus it bubbled forth—‘ How sweet, Prince of the branching antlers wide, The mirth-inspiring moments glide! How grateful are the hours of spring! What odours sweet the breezes bring ! 206 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XH. The musky air to joy invites, And drowns the senses in delights. Deep ’mid the waving cypress boughs, Turtles exchange their amorous vows; While, from his rose’s fragrant lips, The bird of eve love’s nectar sips. Where’er I throw my eyes around, All seems to me enchanted ground ; And night, while Cynthia’s silvery gleam Sleeps on the lawn, the grove, the stream, Heart-soothing night, for nothing longs But one of my melodious songs, To lap the world in bliss, and show A perfect paradise below ! When youth’s warm blood shall cease to flow, And beauty’s cheek no longer glow ; When these soft graceful limbs, grown old, Shall feel Time’s fingers, icy cold; Close in his chilling arms embraced, What pleasures can I hope to taste ? What sweet delight in Age’s train? Spring will return, but ah! in vain.” The Stag, half pitying, half amazed, Upon his old associate gazed ; ‘ What! hast thou lost thy wits? he cried, ‘ Or art thou dreaming, open eyed ? Sing, quotha! was there ever bred In any mortal ass’s head So strange a thought! But, no offence— What if we first remove from hence, And talk, as erst, of straw and oats; Of scurvy fare, and mangy coats; Of heavy loads, or, worse than those, Of cruel drivers, and hard-blows? TRANSLATIONS. 207 For recollect, my gentle friend, We’re thieves, and plunder is our end. See! through what parsley we’ve been toiling, And what fine spinage we are spoiling ! “* He most of all doth outrage reason Who fondly singeth out of season.” A proverb that, for sense surpasses The brains combined of stags and asses : ’ Yet, for I must thy perils trace, Sweet bulbul* of the long-ear’d race! Soft soul of harmony! yet hear ; If thou wilt rashly charm our ear, And with thy warblings, loud and deep, Unseal the leaden eye of sleep ; Roused by thy song, and arm’d with staves, The gardener, and a host of slaves, To mourning will convert thy strains, And make their pastime of thy pains.’ His nose in scorn the songster rears, Pricks up his twinkling length of ears, And proudly thus he shot his bolt— ‘ Thou soulless, senseless, tasteless dolt! If, when in vulgar prose J try My voice, the soul in ecstasy Will to the pale lip trembling flee, And pant and struggle to be free, Must not my song—’ ‘ QO, past pretence! The ear must be deprived of sense,’ Rejoin’d the stag,—‘ form’d of dull clay, The heart that melts not at thy lay! But hold, my ardent prayer attend, Not yet with songs the welkin rend ; * The Persian name of the nightingale. 208 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XII. Still the sweet murmur of thy throat, Prelusive of the thrilling note ! Nor shrink not up thy nostrils, friend, Nor thy fair ample jaws extend ; Lest thou repent thee, when too late, And moan thy pains and well earn’d fate.’ Impatience stung the warbler’s soul, Greatly he spurn’d the mean control, And from the verdant turf uprear’d, He on his friend contemptuous leer’d ; Stretch’d his lean neck, and wildly stared, His dulcet pitchpipe then prepared, His flaky ears prick’d up withal, And stood in posture musical. ‘ Ah!’ thought the stag, ‘ I greatly fear, Since he his throat begins to clear, And strains and stares, he will not long Deprive us of his promised song. Friendship to safety well may yield,” He said, and nimbly fled the field. Alone, at length, the warbler Ass Would every former strain surpass ; So right he aim’d, so loud he bray’d, The forest shook, night seem’d afraid ; And, starting at the well known sound, The gardeners from their pallets bound ; The scared musician this pursues, That stops him with insidious noose :— Now to a tree behold him tied, While both prepare to take his hide ; But first his cudgel either rears, And plies his ribs, his nose, his ears ; His head converted to a jelly, His back confounded with his belly ; TRANSLATIONS. 209 All bruised without, all broke within, To leaves they now convert his skin: Whereon, in characters of gold, For all good asses, young and old, This short instructive tale is told. HOPPNER, INEVITABLE FATE. FROM THE PERSIAN. I SEE inscribed the stern decree of Fate ; The poison burns in every vein: ’tis done; Imports not now thy kindness or thy hate ; My lot is certain, and my race is run. No; never can I break the circling snare, Or flee my fix’d, inevitable doom : Say thou art cold—I perish in despair ; Say that thou lovest—my transport is my tomb. J. GRANT. ON THE OMNIPRESENCE OF THE DEITY. FROM THE PERSIAN OF ACHMED ARDEBEILI. Wuy was this spirit, ardent still to rise, Chain’d in a dungeon of compacted clay? Why were those thoughts, aspiring to the skies, In heavy fetters doom’d to pine away ? Strange mystic union of discordant things, Beyond the powers. of reason to descry : Like the wild ostrich of the waste, whose wings, Though strongly nerved, yetare not form’d to fly. VOL, VI. EE 210 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XII. O sluggish clay, that bend’st thine inmate down, Low to the parent dust that gave thee birth! I fain would spurn thee, all thy ties disown, And roam a pilgrim from the realms of earth, Roam where? What unknown worlds wouldst thou explore ? Where rest in boundless space thy weary flight? Float o’er etherial oceans without shore, Mount to the stars, or sink in endless night? What is thine aim? What mighty object, say, To rise above this sublunary sphere ? Even Him, who reigns o’er all the realms of day, Say, dost thou seek? Vain man! then seek him here. For his almighty Wisdom, Power, and Love Are neither circumscribed by time nor space, But perfect here, as in the realms above, Sustain the myriads of the human race. Here shall the faithful heart with transport own, God’s awful presence fills not heaven alone. FOX. ODE. FROM THE PERSIAN OF KHAKANI, THaT cheek which boasts the ruby’s hue, That breast, a lily bathed in dew, That form whose graceful beauty gleams Like cypress bending o’er the streams, Thou mafble heart! destroyer! say, What tyrant steals my soul away ? That airy form, that amorous sigh, The flower bud of that liquid eye, a, ee eee ree ——— 5 a F i SS, ge Pa TRANSLATIONS. 2il Whose glances steal my soul away, Thy name, thou lovely tyrant, say !— O thou, whose wanton footsteps tread The garden’s flower-enamel’d glade, Whose pouting rose-bud lips contain More luscious honey than the cane, Whose eyes in liquid lustre shine Bright as the hue of sparkling wine, Whose bending eyebrows shafts of woe Dart, like arrows from the bow, _ Brows that stole their pearly light From the silver queen of night, Whose charms have stolen my soul away,— Thy name, thou beauteous tyrant, say! The wine of love, that thrills the soul, Thy bard has drunk beyond control ;, To learn thy name would gladly drain His life from each enamour’d vein: Thou charmer of Khakani, say What beauty steals his soul away? DR. LEYDEN. SONG. FROM THE PERSIAN. SwEET as the rose that scents the gale, Bright as the lily of the vale, Yet with a heart like summer hail, Marring each beauty thou bearest. Beauty like thine all nature thrills ; And when the moon her circle fills, Pale she beholds those rounder hills, Which on the breast thou wearest. 212 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XII. Where could those peerless flowerets blow? Whence are the thorns that near them grow ? Wound me, but smile, O lovely foe, ° Smile on the heart thou tearest. Sighing, I view that cypress waist, Doom’d to afflict me till embraced ; Sighing, I view that eye too chaste, Like the new blossom smiling. Spreading thy toils with hands divine, Softly thou wavest like a pine, Darting thy shafts at hearts like mine, Senses and soul beguiling. See at thy feet no vulgar slave, Frantic with love’s enchanting wave, Thee, ere he seek the gloomy grave, Thee, his bless’d idol styling. SIR W. JONES. EPIGRAM. FROM THE PERSIAN. Once I wrote to my charmer, ah! pity my case, And, though in a dream, let me see your fair face. She replied, if in absence your eyes you can close, My presence shall never disturb your repose. ANONYMOUS. TRANSLATIONS. 213 YESTERDAY. FROM THE PERSIAN OF ACHMED ARDEBEILI. Say, ye studious, grave and old, Tell me, all ye\fair and gay, Tell me, where I nay behold The fleeting forms of Yesterday ? Where’s autumnal plenty sped? Winter, where’s thy boisterous sway ? Where’s the vernal joweret fled ? Summer, where’s thy Yesterday? Jocund sprites of social joy Round our smiling yoblet play; Pit, ye powers of rudt annoy, Like the ghost of Yisterday? ? Odorous sweets, and Kerzerom wine, Hither, boy, with spéed convey ; Jasmin wreaths with rojes twine, Ere they fade like Yejterday. Brim the bowl, and pass it round ; Lightly tune the sportive lay : Let the festal hour be crewn’d, Ere ’tis lost like Yesterday. FOX. a re ODE. FROM THE TURKISH OF MESIHI. { Hear! how the nightingales, on every spray, Hail, in wild notes, the sweet return of May; The gale that o’er yon waving almond blows The verdant bank with silver blossoms strows ; 214 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, P. XI. The smiling season decks each flowery glade. Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade. What gales of fragrance scent the vernal air! Hills, dales, and woods, their loveliest mantles wear ! Who knows what cares aweit that fatal day, When ruder gusts shall barish gentle May? E’en Death, perhaps, our valleys will invade. Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade. The tulip now its varied kue displays, And sheds, like Ahmed’s eye, celestial rays. Oh, nation ever faithful, ever true, The joys of youth, while May invites, pursue! Willnot these notes yourtimorous minds persuade? Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade. The sparkling dewdrops o’er the lilies play, Like orient pearls, or like the beams of day. If love and mirth your wanton thoughts engage, Attend, ye nymphs! a poet’s words are sage; While thus you sit beneath the trembling shade Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade. The fresh blown rose like Zeineb’s cheek appears, When pearls, like dewdrops, glitter in her ears. The charms of youth at once are seen and pass’d: And nature says, ‘ They are too sweet to last.’ So blooms the rose; and so the blushing maid. Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade. See! yon anemones their leaves unfold, With rubies flaming and with living gold. While crystal showers from weeping clouds de- Enjoy the presence of thy tuneful friend: [scend, Now, while the wines are brought, the sofa’s laid, Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade. - ~ TRANSLATIONS, 215 The plants no more are dried, the meadows dead, No more the rosebud hangs her pensive head : The shrubs revive in valleys, meads, and bowers, And every stalk is diadem’d with flowers ; In silken robes each hillock stands array’d. Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade. Clear drops, each morn, impearl the rose’s bloom, And from its leaf the zephyr drinks perfume ; The dewy buds expand their lucid store : Be this our wealth: ye damsels, ask no more. Though wise men envy, and though fools upbraid, Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade. The dewdrops, sprinkled by the musky gale, + Are changed to essence ere they reach the dale. The mild blue sky a rich pavilion spreads, Without our labour, o’er our favour’d heads. Let others toil in war, in arts, or trade ;— Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade. Late, gloomy winter chill’d the sullen air, Till Soliman arose, and all was fair. Soft in his reign, the notes of love resound, And pleasure’s rosy cup goes freely round. Here on the bank, which mantling vines o’ershade, _ Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade. May this rude lay from age to age remain, A true memorial of this lovely train. Come, charming maid! and hear thy poet sing, Thyself the rose, and he the bird of spring ; Love bids him sing, and Love will be obey’d. Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade.” SIR W. JONES. 216 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. 1 THE CLOUD MESSENGER. FROM THE SANSCRIT OF CALIDASA, Argument. A demigod, who was a servant of the Hindu God of Wealth, Cuvera, having offended his lord, was punished by twelve months banishment from his home and wife. At the period of the opening of the poem, he is supposed to have passed eight months in solitary seclusion. At the commencement of the rainy season he addresses himself to one of the clouds which was moving towards his late residence, and desires it to waft his sorrows to a beloved and regretted wife. To the inner mansion bend thy sight, Diffusing round a mild and quivering light; As when through evening shades soft flashes play, Where the bright fire-fly wings his glittering way. There in the fane a beauteous creature stands, The first best work of the Creator’s hands; Whose slender limbs inadequately bear A full orbed bosom and a weight of care ; [show, Whose teeth like pearls, whose lips like Bimbas* And fawnlike eyes still tremble as they glow. Lone as the widow’d Chacravéct mourns}, Her faithful memory to her husband turns, And sad and silent shalt thou find my wife, Half of my soul, and partner of my life ; Nipp’d by chill sorrow as the flowers enfold Their shrinking petals from the withering cold. * The bimba bears a red fruit. + This bird, in the poetry of the Hindoos, is their turtle dove, for constancy and connubial affection, with the singular cir- cumstance of the pair being doomed for ever to nocturnal sepa- ration, for having offended one of the Hindu divinities, TRANSLATIONS. 217 I view her now! long weeping swells her eyes, And those dear lips are dried by parching sighs ; Sad on her hand her pallid cheek declines, And half unseen through veiling tresses shines; As when a darkling night the moon enshrouds, A few faint rays break straggling through the clouds. Now at thy sight I mark fresh sorrow flow, And sacred sacrifice augments her woe* ; I mark her now, with fancy’s aid, retrace This wasted figure and this haggard face; Now from her favourite bird she seeks relief, And tells the tuneful sarica+ her grief, Mourns o’er the feather’d prisoner’s kindred fate, And fondly questions of its absent mate. In vain the lute for harmony is strung, And round the robe-neglected shoulder slung ; And falling accents strive to catch, in vain, Our race’s old commemorative strain: The faltering tear, that from reflection springs, Corrodes incessantly the silvery strings ; Recurring woe still pressing on the heart, The skilful hand forgets its grateful art, And idly wandering strikes no measured tone, But wakes a sad wild warbling of its own. At times such solace animates her mind As widow’d wives in cheerless absence find ; * The sacrifice to be performed to render the gods propi- tions; or a sacrifice usually performed by women at the be- ginning of the rainy season. + A small bird, better known by the name of maina. It is represented as a female, while the parrot is described as a male bird; and as these two have, in all Hindu tales, the faculty of human speech, they are constantly introduced, the one in- veighing against the faults of the male sex, and the other ex- posing the defects of the female. VOL, VI. FF 218 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. Sa. She counts the flowers now faded on the floor, That graced with monthly piety the door * ; Thence reckon’d up the period since from home, And, far from-her, was I compell’d to roam; And deeming fond my term of exile run, Conceives my homeward journey is begun. Lighten’d by tasks like these the day proceeds, But much IJ dread a bitterer night succeeds: When thou shalt view her onthe earth’s cold breast, Or lonely couch of separation rest, Disturb’d by tears those pallid cheeks that burn, | And visions of her dearer half’s return. Now seeking sleep, a husband to restore, And waking now his absence to deplore ; Deprived of slumber by returning woes, Or mock’d by idle phantoms of repose ; Till her slight form, consumed by ceaseless pain, Shows like the moon fast hastening to its wane. Crisp from the purifying wave her hair Conceals the charms, no more her pleasing care; And with neglected nails her fingers chase, Fatigued, the tresses wandering o’er her face. Firm winds the fillet}, as it first was wove, When fate relentless forced me from my love ; And never flowery wreaths nor costly pearls Must hope to decorate the fetter’d curls; Loosed by no hand, until the law divine Accomplish’d, that delighted hand is mine. * The Hindus pay a species of adoration to many inanimate objects: amongst others, the doorway or door post receives such’ homage as is rendered by hanging up a flower or garland there once a month, + The vent is a braid, into which the long hair of the Hin- ea, women is collected, when they have lost their hus- ands. ee ee ee Se | ) Oa TRANSLATIONS. 219 Dull as the flower when clouds through ether sweep, Nor wholly waking, nor resign’d to sleep, Her heavy eyelids languidly unclose To where the moon its silvery radiance throws Mild through the chamber; once a welcome light, Avoided now and hateful to her sight. Those charms that glittering ornaments oppress, Those restless slumbers that proclaim distress, That slender figure worn by grief severe Shall surely gain thy sympathizing tear: For the soft breast is swift to overflow, In moist compassion, at the claims of woe. The same fond wife as when compell’d to part, Her love was mine, I still possess her heart: Her well known faith this confidence affords, Nor vain conceit suggests unmeaning words ; No boaster I! and time shall quickly teach, With observation join’d, how just my speech. O’er her left limbs * shall glad pulsations play, And signs auspicious indicate thy way ; And like the lotus trembling on the tide, While its deep roots the sportive fish divide, So tremulous throbs the eye’s enchanting ball, Loose o’er whose lids neglected tresses fall. Soothed by expected bliss should gentle sleep O’er her soft limbs and frame exhausted creep, Delay thy tidings, and suspend thy flight, And watch in silent patience through the night ; Withhold thy thunders, lest the awful sound Her slumber banish, and her dreams confound ; * Palpitations in the left limbs, and a throbbing in the left eye, are considered as auspicious omens when occurring in the female, 220 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XII. Where her fond arms, like winding shrubs, slie flings Around my neck, and to my bosom clings. Behold her rising with the early morn, Fair as the flower that opening buds adorn; And strive to animate her drooping mind With cooling rain-drops and refreshing wind : Restrain thy lightnings, as her timid gaze Shrinks from the bright intolerable blaze ; And murmuring softly, gentle sounds prepare, With words like these to raise her from despair. ‘Oh wife adored! whose lord still lives for thee, Behold his friend and messenger in me; We now approach thy beauteous presence fraught With many a tender and consoling thought ; Such tasks are mine: where absent lovers stray, I speed the wanderer lightly on his way; And with my thunders teach his lagging mind New hopes, the braid of absence * to unbind!’ As beauteous Maithili}, with glad surprise, Bent on the Son of Air her opening eyes; So my fair partner’s pleased uplifted gaze, Thy friendly presence with delight surveys; She smiles, she speaks, her misery foregoes, And deep attention on thy words bestows: For such dear tidings happiness impart, Scarce less than mutual meeting to the heart, Being, of years protracted, aid thy friend, And with my words thine own suggestions blend; * See second note in page 218. + Maithili isa name of Sita, derived from the place of her nativity. The allusion relates to the discovery of her by Rama's envoy, Hanuman, the monkey chief, said to he the sou of the wind. TRANSLATIONS, 221 Say thus—‘ Thy lord o’er Rama’s mountain strays, Nor cares but those of absence blight his days ; His only wish by me, his friend, to know If he is bless’d with health, that thou art so; For still this fear especially must wait On every creature of our passing state. ‘ What though to distance driven by wrath di- Imagination joins his form with thine ; [ vine, Such as I view is his emaciate frame ; Such his regrets, his scorching pangs the same ; To every sigh of thine his sigh replies, And tears responsive trickle from his eyes. ‘ By thee unheard, by those bright eyes unseen, Since fate resists and regions intervene ; To me the message of his love consign’d, Portrays the sufferings of his constant mind. Oh, were he present, fondly would he seek, In secret whisper, that inviting cheek ; Woo thee in close approach his words to hear, And breathe these tender accents in thine ear’— ‘ Goddess beloved! how vainly I explore The world to trace the semblance I adore ; Thy graceful form the flexile tendril shows, And like thy locks the peacock’s plumage glows ; ‘Mild as thy cheeks, the moon’s new beams appear, And those soft eyes adorn the timid deer ; In ripling brooks thy curling brows I see, But only view combined these charms in thee. ‘ Even in these wilds our unrelenting fate Proscribes the union, love and art create ; When, with the colours that the rock supplies, O’er the rude stone thy pictured beauties rise, Fain would I think once more we fondly meet, And seek to fall in homage at thy feet. 222 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp. XII. In vain; for envious tears my purpose blight, And veil the lovely image from my sight. Why should the god*, who wields the five-fold dart, Direct his shafts at this afflicted heart ; Nor spare to agonize an aching breast, By sultry suns and banishment oppress’d : Oh! that these heavy hours would swiftly fly, And lead a happier fate and milder sky. ' ‘ Believe me, dearest, that my doom sevete Obtains from heavenly eyes the frequent tear, And where the spirits of these groves} attend, The pitying drops in pearly showers descend ; As oft in sleep they mark my outstretch’d arms, That clasp in blissful dreams thy fancied charms, Play through the air, and fold in fond embrace Impassive matter and ethereal space. ‘ Soft and delightful to my senses blows The breeze that southward wafts Himala’s snows, And rich impregnated with gums divine, Exuding fragrant from the shatter’d pine, Diffusing sweets to all, but most to me; Has it not touch'd, does it not breathe of thee? ‘Whatare my tasks: to speed the lagging night, And urge impatiently the rising light; The light return’d, I sicken at the ray, And shun as eagerly the shining day : Vain are my labours in this lonely state ; But fate proscribes, and we must bow to fate. Let then my firmness save thee from despair, - Who trust myself, nor sink beneath my care; Trust to futurity, for still we view The always wretched, always bless’d, are few: * Camadeva, the Hindu Cupid, whose shafts are represented as being tipped with five different flowers. { Literally che deities of the soil. TRANSLATIONS. 223 Life, like a wheel’s revolving orb, turns round, Now whirl’d inair, now dragg’d along the ground. ‘ When, from his serpent couch that swims the Sarangi rises from celestial sleep * ; [deep, When four more months unmark’d have run their course, To us all gloom, the curse has lost its force: The grief from separation born expires, And Autumn’s nights reward our chaste desires. ‘Once more I view thee as mine eyes unclose, Laid by my side, and lull’d by soft repose ; And now I mark thee startle from thy sleep, Loose thy enfolding arms, and wake to weep: My anxious love long vainly seeks reply, Till, as the smile relumes that lucid eye, Thy arch avowal owns, that jealous fear Affrighted slumber, and aroused the tear. [eyes! ‘ While thus, oh goddess with the dark black My fond assurance confidence supplies, Let not the tales that idle tattlers bear Subvert thy faith, nor teach thee to despair. True love no time nor distance can destroy, And independent of all present joy, It grows in absence, as renew’d delight Some dear memorials, some loved lines, excite.’ Such, vast dispenser of the dews of heaven, Such is my suit, and such thy promise given ; Fearless upon thy friendship I rely, Nor ask that promise, nor expect reply. H. H. WILSON. * The serpent couch is the great snake enanta, upon which Vishnu, or, as he is called, the holder of the. bow Sarnga re- * clines during the four months of the periodical rains. 224 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. DESCRIPTION OF A HINDU BEAUTY. FROM THE HINDEE, Mark,—her slender form bend low, As the zephyrs lightly blow: Mark, her robe, like blossoms rare, Scatter fragrance on the air: See, her face as soft moon beaming ; From her smiles ambrosia streaming ; And on brows, more white than snow, See, the raven tresses glow! Lotuslike her dewy feet Treasures yield of nectar’d sweet: Light as on her footsteps pass, Blushes* all the bending grass ; And rings of jewels, Beauty’s powers, Freshen into living flowers t : While brighter tints, and rosier hues, All the smiling earth suffuse. BROUGHTON. VERSES, Written after being at Sea for the first Time. FROM THE PUSHTO. THE sage who first refused to roam Through foreign climes in quest of gain, But bade us prize the joys of home, Thought of thy dangers, fearful main! * The Hindu ladies are accustomed to stain the soles of their feet with a crimson dye, named jaubuk. + In the East, ornaments of gold, jewelry, &c. are commonly made in the forms of different flowers. TRANSLATIONS. What though the bread on shore we taste Be purchased oft with toil and pain, A loaf is better than a feast, When purchased on the brackish main. Like ocean’s depths, as poets tell, Spreads the abyss of endless pain; But not the deepest pit of hell Can match thy horrors, frightful main ! Ashore each pleasant breeze that blows Might soothe to rest a soul in pain ; But heart and liver, torn with throes, Leap to your lips when on the main. When o’er your bark the tempests beat, With lightning, thunder, wind, and rain, There’s nought to be your windingsheet Save the white foam that streaks the main. Ashore, e’en strangers strangers greet In phrase polite and courteous strain ; But bitter oaths are all you meet When journeying on the savage main. On shore a thousand pleasures rise To soothe fatigue and banish pain; But every joy and pleasure flies From him who travels on the main. Scenes fair, sublime, and strange and new, Arrest the eye on hill or plain: Nought, save the foamy waves you view, When journeying on the desert main. The parrot pent in wiry cage Its fluttering pinions beats in vain ; So vain our grief, so vain our rage, When reeling on the restless main. VOL. VI. GG 225 226 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XII. God saye us all from fell remorse, Revenge, and wrath, and proud disdain ; For ever bad, ’tis ten times worse To meet them on the desert main. When flames most bright and fierce aspire, Water can still their force restrain ; But vivid flames of sparkling fire Flash from the surges of the main. On wondrous fins the fishes fly, Like birds, along the ocean plain, In flocks, like sparrows, soar on high, And sport and glitter on the main. Sea monsters roll, so huge and blue, I dread to name them in my strain, That at one gulp both ship and crew Could swallow on the weltering main. Dark demons of portentous form, That heaven’s vast arch can scarce contain, You see them stalking in the storm, When journeying on the desert main. Till death his fatal arrows speed, No soul escapes from mortal pain: | Of death and all his darts no need Have they who journey on the main. From all these ghastly scenes of fear, That well might turn a poet’s brain, To find myself in safety here Foils all the marvels of the main. DR. LEYDEN. mee ee od TRANSLATIONS, 227 ODE. FROM THE CHINESE. BEHOLD where yon blue rivulet glides Along the laughing dale; Light reeds bedeck its verdant sides, And frolic in the gale: So shines our prince! In bright array The Virtues round him wait; And sweetly smiled the auspicious day That gave him to our state. As pliant hands in shapes refined Rich ivory carve and smooth, His laws thus mould each ductile mind, And every passion soothe. As gems are taught by patient art In sparkling ranks to beam, With manners thus he forms the heart, And spreads a general gleam. What soft yet awful dignity ! What meek yet manly grace! What sweetness dances in his eye, And blossoms in his face! So shines our prince! A skyborn crowd Of virtues round him blaze: Ne’er shall oblivion’s murky cloud Obscure his deathless praise. SIR W. JONES. 228 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P.) xr. HUNTING SONG. FROM THE DIALECT OF THE NAUDOWESSES, ONE OF THE INDIAN TRIBES IN NORTH AMERICA, ERE the rising sunbeams break, I the lofty mountain seek ; Watch the new light’s earliest ray, Chasing the dark clouds away. Spirit, hear! when comes the night. Silver moon, O lend thy light! To my tent, oh speed my way, Laden with the hunter’s prey! T. SWIFT. A LOVE SONG. FROM THE ROMAIC, OR MODERN GREEK. Au! Love was never yet without The pang, the agony, the doubt, Which rend my heart with ceaseless sigh, While day and night roll darkling by. Without one friend to hear my woe, I faint, I die beneath the blow. That Love had arrows, well I knew; Alas! I find them poison’d too. Birds, yet in freedom, shun the net Which Love around your haunts hath set; Or circled by his fatal fire, Your hearts shall burn, your hopes expire. A bird of free and careless wing Was I, through many a smiling spring ; But caught within the subtle snare, © I burn, and feebly flutter there. TRANSLATIONS. 229 Who ne’er have loved and loved in vain Can neither feel nor pity pain— The cold repulse—the look askance— The lightning of Love’s angry glance. In flattering dreams I deem’d thee mine ; Now hope, and he who hoped, decline ; Like melting wax or withering flower, I feel my passion and thy power. My light of life! ah, tell me why That pouting lip and alter’d eye? My bird of love! my beauteous mate! And art thou changed, and canst thou hate ? Mine eyes like wintry streams o’erflow: What wretch with me would barter woe? My bird! relent: one note could give A charm to bid thy lover live. My curdling blood, my maddening brain, In silent anguish I sustain ; And still thy heart, without partaking One pang, exults—while mine is breaking. Pour me the poison, fear not thou! Thou canst not murder more than now : I’ve lived to curse my natal day, And Love, that thus can lingering slay. My wounded soul, my bleeding breast, Can patience preach thee into rest? Alas! too late, I dearly know, That joy is harbinger of woe, LORD BYRON. ~ ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XII. THE RENOVATION OF THE WORLD*. FROM THE OLD ICELANDIC. Now the spirit’s plastic might, Brooding o’er the formless deep, O’er the dusk abysm of night, Bids creation cease to sleep! Instant from the riven main Starts the renovated Earth; Pine-clad mountain, shaded plain; See, ’tis Nature’s second birth! Gods on Inda spread the board; Such was the supreme decree: Swell the strains in full accord, Strains of holiest harmony ! ‘ High the sparkling beverage pour; Be the song with horror fraught: Mark the consecrated hour Lifts the soul to solemn thought. * Odin first inspires the verse, Gored by the relentless fang ; fEther felt the conflict fierce, Dying groan, and parting pang. ‘ Where is now his vaunted might? Where the terror of his eye? Fled for aye from scenes of light: Pour the sparkling beverage high. * The gods (or damones) meet on the top of mount Inda, and sing this prophetic song of triamph, ? TRANSLATIONS. 231 “Lo! they fleet in radiant round, Years of plenty, years of joy: Sorrow’s place no more is found, Cares that vex, or sweets that cloy. ‘From the kindling teeming soil Ripen’d harvests wave unsown ; Wherefore needs the peasants’ toil ? Nature works and works alone. ‘ Ask ye, whose the sceptred sway ? ’Tis to lordly Balder given : Mark him there, in bright array, Stalking through the halls of heaven. ‘ Hoder holds united reign ; Latest times their strength shall prove, Monarchs of the bleak domain, Know ye now’what’s done above? ‘ Is it bless’d delusion’s hour? Rolls mine eye in frenzied trance ? Beams of glory round me shower; Troops of radiant forms advance. ‘ Founded on that firm set rock, Rising view the dome of gold, Fix’d secure from wintry shock: There the good, and there the bold. ‘ High in tracts of troubled air, Justice waves her awful sword : Vice appall’d, with hideous stare, Shrinks, ere spoke the dooming word. ‘ In Nastronda’s northern plain, Hark, the’ invenom’d portals ope: Respite there is none of pain, Cheerless all, without a hope. 232 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. ‘ Dog-eyed Lust, Adultery foul, Murder, red with many a stain, At the fatal entrance scowl, Bound in adamantine chain. ‘ Know ye what is done above ? Know ye now the deeds of night?’ They. spoke ; the feast of joy and love Glow’d on Inda’s glistering height. MATHIAS. SONG OF HARALD THE HARDY. FROM THE OLD ICELANDIC, My bark around Sicilia sail’d ; Then we were gallant, proud, and strong: The winged ship by youths impell’d Skimm’d (as we hoped) the waves along, My prowess, tried in martial field, Like fruit to maiden fair shall yield! With golden ring in Russia’s land To me the virgin plights her hand. Fierce was the fight on Trondheim’s heath, I saw her sons to battle move ; Though few, upon that field of death Long, long our desperate warriors strove: Young from my king, in battle slain, I parted on that bloody plain. With golden ring in Russia’s land To me the virgin plights her hand. With vigorous arms the pump we plied, Sixteen (no more) my dauntless crew, And high and furious wax’d the tide ; O’er the deep bark its billows flew. TRANSLATIONS. 233 My prowess, tried in hour of need, _Alike with maiden fair shall speed. With golden ring in Russia’s land To me the virgin plights her hand. . Eight feats I ken; the sportive game, The war array, the fabrile art; With fearless breast the waves I stem; I press the steed; I cast the dart; O’er ice on slippery skates I glide; My dexterous oar defies the tide. With golden ring in Russia’s land To me the virgin plights her hand. Let blooming maid and widow say, Mid proud Byzantium’s southern walls, What deeds we wrought at dawn of day! What falchions sounded through their halls! What blood distain’d each weighty spear ! Those feats are famous far and near! With golden ring in Russia’s land To me the virgin plights her hand. Where snow-clad uplands rear their head, My breath I drew mid bowmen strong ; But now my bark, the peasant’s dread, Kisses the sea its rocks among. Midst barren isles, where ocean foam’d, Far from the tread of man I roam’d. With golden ring in Russia’s land To me the virgin plights her hand. HON. W. HERBERT. VOL. VI. HH 234 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XU. ELVER’S HOH. FROM THE DANISH. THE knight laid his head upon Elver’s Hoh, Soft slumbers his senses beguiling ; Fatigue press’d its seal on his eyelids, when lo! Two maidens drew near to him, smiling; The one she kiss’d softly Sir Algamore’s eyes; The other she whisper’d him sweetly,— ‘ Arise! thou gallant young warrior, arise, For the dance it goes gaily and featly! ‘ Arise, thou gallant young warrior, arise, And dance with us now and for ever! My damsels with music thine ear shall surprise, And sweeter a mortal heard never.’— Then straight of young maidens appear’d a fair Who their voices in harmony raising, [throng, The winds they were still as the sounds flew along, By silence their melody praising. The winds they were still as the sounds flew along ; The wolf howl’d no more from the mountains ; The rivers were mute upon hearing the song, And calm’d the loud rush of their fountains: The fish as they swam in the water so clear, To the soft sounds delighted attended, [hear, And nightingales, charm’d the sweet accents to Their notes with the melody blended.— ‘ Now hear me, thou gallant young warrior, now If thou wilt partake of our pleasure, [hear! We'll teach thee to draw the pale moon from her sphere. We'll show thee the sorcerer’s treasure ; TRANSLATIONS, 235. We'll teach thee the Runic rhyme, teach thee to The wild bear in magical fetters ; [hold To charm the red dragon, who broods over gold, And tame him by mystical letters.’ Now hither,now thither,then danced the gay band, By witchcraft the hero surprising, Who ever sat silent, his sword in his hand, _ Their sports and their pleasures despising. ‘ Now hear me, thou gallant young warrior, now If still thou disdain’st what we proffer, [hear! With dagger and knife from thy breast will we tear Thine heart, which refuses our offer!’ Oh! glad was the knight when he heard the cock His enemies trembled, and left him: [crow: Else must he have stay’d upon Elver’s Hoh, And the witches of life had bereft him. Beware then, ye warriors, returning by night From court, dress’d in gold and in silver ; Beware how you slumber on Elver’s rough height, Beware of the witches of Elver! M. G. LEWIS. TO SPRING. FROM THE DANISH OF THAARUP. Tuy beams are sweet, beloved Spring! The winter shades before thee fly; The boughs smile green, the young birds sing, The chainless current glitters by ; Till countless flowers, like stars, illume The deepening vale and forest gloom. 236 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. POM Oh! welcome, gentle guest from high, Sent to cheer our world below, To lighten sorrow’s faded eye, To kindle nature’s social glow ; Oh! he is o’er his fellows bless’d, Who feels thee in a guiltless breast. Peace to the generous heart, essaying With deeds of love to win our praise! He smiles the spring of life essaying, Nor fears her cold and wintry days. To his high goal, with triumph bright, The calm years waft him in their flight. Thou glorious goal! that shinest afar, And seem’st to smile us on our way ; Bright is the hope that crowns our war, The dawn blush of eternal day: There shall we meet, this dark world o’er, And mix in love for evermore. W. S. WALKER. ON FORTITUDE. FROM THE DANISH OF MALLING. SWEETER to sing to the wild blast that chills me, Harden’d with toil and with cold, Than list to the fountain, whose melody stills me, Floating in odours and gold! Oh! the full glow of the fetterless spirit Dwells not with luxury’s slave; , Patience and courage alone can inherit That portion of God to the brave! TRANSLATIONS, 237 Tell us, ye children of wisdom, who measure The actiong§of man and his might, Tellus, was eath won by day-dreams of pleasure, Or battles aid watchings of night? Tell us, did sybhs shield the valiant from ruin? Did siren sonys lull their repose ? No, the proud ae sacred glory pursuing, Steer’d by its jolestar through woes. Planted by Valoy, and waved against Fortune, Rome's flag wripp’d the world in its shade; Even the rude Nor, with its ample folds sporting, Paused as he viw’d it display’d ; But when the slowmoth of luxury, stealing, Wasted its strenth to decay, [ing, Tempests less fierce‘han the northern wind, peal- Blew its bright rins away. . Fly then, soft maxirs, on swift sailing pinions, Fly to the land ofthe slave! We will not flutter, Ike air’s purple minions, Ours is the strife ¢ the brave! Sweeter to sing to thc wild blast that chills m Harden’d with toilind with cold, Than list to the fountan, whose melody stills pe, Floating in odours ad gold. Ww. S. WALKE. TO A GIR, BELOVED. FROM THE DANSH OF INGEMAN. Wuar is it, dear maid, ‘hat enraptures me so? What holds my fond beartin a chain of control? Can the fragile attire of thy spirit below Bematch’d with the glories that beam in thy soul? " 238 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Py. Kite # Is the throne of thy conquest the sot lip of roses, Or the flexible charm of thy bright blue eye? Is the temple where grandeur or sweetness reposes. _ The soft heaving breast, or the orehead high? Oh! lovely’s thine eye, but mo lovely shines through it . The spirit unwasted, unwithed by time: The frame may be fair, throughwhose crystal we view it, / But fairer within is the pictife sublime. i « | | a } And sweet are thy lips, but moesweet tiv@y unfold | The soft tones of music, he nga of love: 4 I value the harp for its string{ of gold, ; But I value its accents thefold strings above, And thy breast, like the ich of the temple ascending, Is fair, but it swells o’er aheart more divine: I love the white arches in mjesty bending, ‘ But worship the god thd’s enthroned in the shrine. /‘is this, dearest maid, tha enraptures me so, ‘Tis this holds my heartn a chain of control, T hve the attire of thy spit below, hut reverence the glorie) that beam in thy soul. W. S. WALKER, PLEASURE AND FRIENDSHIP. OF MOLBECK, WHERE’rR life thrives iy fulness blooming, The rosy god of pleagire reigns; A thousand nations hail his coming, And smiling kiss his gentle chains, TRANSLATIONS. 239 Beneath his steps earth teems with roses; His eyes with kindly lustre glow, And from a cup half hid in posies He showers his gifts on earth below. Each little cloud then melts in beauty, Each path grows light, each burthen sweet; The hours fly swifter on their duty, - And life trips on with tireless feet. _ No state disgusts, no a appal him, _ But olitef o’er youth he spreads his wing ; Anda rs gladliest when we call him _ To bless our bright and rosy spring. hen in his pathway’s flowery furrow Gay mirth and sprightly song advance ; stills at once the waves of sorrow, ~ His look a smile, his step a dance. Two kindly sisters, knit together In bonds of love, his track pursue; Oh! what were life’s ungenial weather, If these from our dark world withdrew? O’er them his countless graces spreading, He bound their brows in rosy glow ; And still they follow, blithely shedding The joys of heaven o’er earth below. Even to our spirit’s core we feel them, How like twin suns they gild our gloom; Wealth cannot buy, nor fortune steal them; They smile, and sing us to the tomb, And therefore in our memory’s treasure, Those days live bright as heaven’s bow, When we entwined the wreath of pleasure Beneath the shade of friendship’s bough. W. S. WALKER, 240 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XIt. HYMN. FROM THE DANISH. Hai, uncreated Being, source of life, W hose love is boundless, and whose mercy wise! Whose power hath wrought to spread thy glories ‘ For every sense a paradise of joy! [ wide, Thyself art all, and in thy spirit pure Live all created things: each form declares Thy touch and pressure ; every meanest tribe The sacred image of thy nature bears. — Summer and autumn’s sun and wintry blasts Proclaim thy might and glory: but the spring, Wherefore and whence, O Lord, its genial breath? ’Tis the loud voice that bids the faithless bow: With thousand, thousand tongues of joy and praise, With the full quire of new created life, Singing thy name; proclaiming to the dull Thy love, thy bounty, thine Almighty hand! And thee it most resembles; like thyself It moulds and fashions; bids the spirit wake ; Gives life and aliment, and clothes the form With strength and vigour! ’Tis the holy type Of thy creative breath!—How mean of soul, © How lost are they to every finer bliss, Who prison’d mid the dusky smoke of towns (When Nature calls aloud, and life invites Array’d in youth and freshest beauty), sit Forlorn and darkling in the maze of thought! Life springs at thy command; thoubidst awake New scenes to witness all thy majesty, New shapes and creatures: none dost thou forbid To view the wondrous produce of thy word; And shall that creature, whom thy bounty raised TRANSLATIONS. 241 By reason high above thé groveling race, With coldness trace thy glory, taste thy gifts Contemptuous and unmoved !—I tremble, Lord, I roam, as on a wide and fathomless sea, Amid the wonders of thy growing year! I see, but know not: my full heart admires The prospect of delight thou spread’st around; And, as thy beck can from the wither’d plant Call forth new verdure, bid fresh blossoms spring, Methinks that power may in the mouldering corse Arouse warm life and vigour. I behold Each living thing declare thy liberal hand, Thy force, all bountiful, almighty God! And shall not I, on whom thy judging will Showers choicer bliss, some duteous tribute pay, Some strain of rapture to the King of kings! My mind and heart and ravish’d sense admire The might and gorgeous majesty of Heaven,— The glory of thy works; and deem the world Created vainly for such torpid souls As scorn its beauty and renounce its joys. HON. W. HERBERT. HYMN. WRITTEN BY ERIC XIV. KING OF SWEDEN IN PRISON. FROM THE SWEDISH. With heartfelt contrite cries, For all my faults I grieve: May Heaven receive my sighs! And thou, O Lord, relieve! VOL. VI. 1,1 242 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XI¥. Stricken for sin I languish; My heart is rent with pain ; Thou, Lord, canst ease mine anguish, All other hope is vain. Some breach of thy commands Each day my heart can trace ; And thus not only stands Unworthy of thy grace, But, prone to bad desires, It evil will not shun; And good thy word inspires, It daily leaves undone. What mercy can I share Who thus deserve the rod ? Do thou in pity spare, My Saviour! and my God! O! may my sighs ascending, Thy gracious bosom find! A bosom e’er befriending The penitential mind. Jesu! ’tis thou alone My spirit can console ; O, may thy blood atone, And make my spirit whole! And when a tranquil moment My, heart refresh’d regains, O, may the same atonement Release me from sin’s chains ! O, may the Lord of Grace My soul prepare and guide To that celestial place Where blessed souls abide! TRANSLATIONS, 243 Thus to my prayer be given The triumph of the day ; That I may taste of heaven, While here on earth I stay. To thee, O God, I haste, With grace a sinner greet! With joy my load I cast At thine Almighty feet : I mourn, by error taken, By snares of sin betray’d: Then save a child forsaken, Relying on thine aid! G. H. DRUMMOND. SONG. FROM THE SWEDISH. Ir ne’er can be a joy of mine To drown a useful day in wine; But when the friendly circle meet, The cheerful, social glass is sweet. Five senses given for delight, To equal toasts our minds invite; And if we fairly drink them up, Thinst will not need another cup. My first must e’er devoted be To her who is the world to me; Whose tender love all care dispels, All rapture in whose bosom dwells. Ye generous friends! ye chosen few! My next I consecrate to you; From you the charms I’ve learn’d to prize Of cheering, soothing sympathies. 244 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp, Xi. This patriot vow will then demand A bumper to my native land ; “May Union’s wreath for ever twine Around fair Freedom’s holy shrine !’ Next greets my heart’s applauding sense, The man of pure beneficence ; Him, who can selfish pleasure scorn, To aid the wretched and forlorn. The honour of my liberal host Must be my fifth concluding toast ; And whilst I such libation pour, My spirits tell, I want no more. G. H. DRUMMOND. FINLAND SONG. ADDRESSED BY A MOTHER TO HER CHILD. Sweet bird of the meadow, oh, soft be thy rest! Thy mother will wake thee at morn from thy nest ; She has made a soft nest, little red breast, for thee, Of the leaves of the birch and the moss of the tree. Then soothe thee, sweet bird of my bosom, once more ! ’Tis Sleep, little infant, that stands at the @oor.— ‘ Where is the sweet babe?” you may hear how he cries, ‘ Where is the sweet babe in his cradle that lies, In his cradle, soft swaddled in vestments of down ? *Tis mine to watch o’er him till darkness be flown.’ ANONYMOUS, TRANSLATIONS. 245 DEATH. ’ FROM THE RUSSIAN OF DERZHAVIN. An, that funereal toll! loud tongue of Time! What woes are centred in that frightful sound! It calls, it calls me with a voice sublime To the lone chambers of the burial ground. My life’s first footsteps are midst yawning graves ; A pale teeth-chattering spectre passes nigh, A scythe of lightning that pale spectre waves, Mows down man’s days like grass, and hurries Nought his untired rapacity can cloy: [by. Monarchs and slaves are all the earthworm’s And the wild raging elements destroy [food, Even the recording tomb. Vicissitude Devours the pride of glory; as the sea Insatiate drinks the waters, even so days And years are lost in deep eternity ; Cities and empires Vandal death decays. We tremble on the borders of the abyss, And giddy totter headlong from on high; _ For death with life our common portion is, And man is only born that he may die. Death knows no sympathy ; he tramples on All tenderness—extinguishes the stars— Tears from the firmament the glowing sun, And blots out worlds in his gigantic wars. But mortal man forgets mortality ! His dreams crowd ages into life’s short day; While, like a midnight robber stealing by§ Death plunders time by hour and hour away. 246 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P; Xi. When least we fear, then is the traitor nigh ; When most secure we seem, he loves to come: Less sure than he, the bolts of thunder fly, Less sure than he, the lightning strikes the dome. He rules o’er all—and him must kings obey, Whose will no counsel knows and no control; The proud and gilded great ones are his prey, Who stand like pillars in a tyrant’s hall. BOWRING. THE ASS AND THE NIGHTINGALE. FROM THE RUSSIAN OF KRILOW. AN ass a nightingale espied, And shouted out, ‘ Holla! holla! good friend! Thou art a first rate singer, they pretend :— Now let me hear thee, that I may decide; Lreally wish to know—the world is partial ever— If thou hast this great gift, and art indeed so clever.’ The nightingale began her heavenly lays; Through all the regions of sweet music ranging, Varying her song a thousand different ways ; Rising and falling, lingering, ever changing : Full of wild rapture now—then sinking oft To almost silence—melancholy, soft As distant shepherd’s pipe at evening’s close :— Strewing the wood with lovelier music ;—there All nature seems to listen and repose: No zephyr dares disturb the tranquil air:— All other voices of the grove are still; And the charm’d flocks lay down beside the rill. TRANSLATIONS. 247 The shepherd like a statue stands—afraid His breathing may disturb the melody, His finger pointing to the harmonious tree, Seems to say, ‘ Listen!’ to his favourite maid. The singer ended :—and our critic bow’d His reverend head to earth, and said aloud :— ‘ Now that’s so so ; thou really hast some merit, Curtail thy song and critics then might hear it: Thy voice wants sharpness :—but if chanticleer Would give thee a few lessons, doubtless he Might raise thy voice and modulate thy ear; And thou, in spite of all thy faults, mayst be A very decent singer.’— The poor bird In silent modesty the critic heard, And wing’d her peaceful flight into the air, O’er many and many a field and forest fair. Many such critics you and I have seen:— Heaven be our screen! : BOWRING. THE VOW. FROM THE RUSSIAN OF KOSTROV. THE rose is my favourite flower: On its tablets of crimson I swore, That up to my last living hour I never would think of thee more. I scarcely the record had made, Ere zephyr, in frolicsome play, On his light airy pinions convey’d Both tablet and promise away. BOWRING. 248 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. SONG. FROM THE RUSSIAN OF DAVIDOV. Wui_eE honouring the grape’s ruby nectar, All sportingly, laughingly gay; We.determined—I, Silvia, and Hector— To drive old dame Wisdom away. * O my children, take care,’ said the beldame, ‘ Attend to these counsels of mine: Get not tipsy! for danger is seldom Remote from the goblet of wine.’ ¢ With thee in his company no man Can err,’ said our wag with a wink ; ‘ But come, thou goodnatured old woman, There’s a drop in the goblet—and drink !’ She frown’d—but her scruples soon twisting, Consented: and smilingly said: ‘ So polite—there’s indeed no resisting, For Wisdom was never ill bred.’ She drank, but continued her teaching, ‘ Let the wise from indulgence refrain ;’ And never gave over her preaching, But to say, ‘ Fill the goblet again.’ And she drank, and she totter’d, but still she Was talking and shaking her head: Mutter’d ‘ temperance’—‘ prudence’—until she Was carried by Folly to bed. BOWRING. TRANSLATIONS. 249 THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN. A fragment. FROM THE WELSH. OweENn’s praise demands my song, Owen swift, and Owen strong ; Fairest flower of Roderic’s stem, Gwyneth’s * shield and Britain’s gem. He nor heaps his brooded stores, Nor on all profusely pours ; Lord of every regal art, Liberal hand, and open heart. Big with hosts of mighty name, Squadrons three against him came ; This the force of Eirin hiding, Side by side as proudly riding, On her shadow long and gay Lochlin + ploughs the watery way ; There the Norman sails afar Catch the winds and join the war: Black and huge along they sweep, Burdens of the angry deep. Dauntless on his native sands The dragon son of Mona stands}; In glittering arms and glory dress’d, High he rears his ruby crest. There the thundering strokes begin, There the press, and there the din ; Talymalfra’s rocky shore Echoing to the battle’s roar. * North Wales. + Denmark. { The red dragon, the device of Cadwallader, was borne on their banners by his descendants. VOL. VI. : K K 250 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. Xil. Check’d by the torrent tide of blood, Backward Menai rolls his flood ; While, heap’d his master’s feet around, Prostrate warriors gnaw the ground. Where his glowing eyeballs turn, Thousand banners round him burn: Where he points his purple spear, Hasty, hasty Rout is there ; Marking with indignant eye, Fear to stop, and shame to fly. There Confusion, Terror’s child, Conflict fierce, and Ruin wild, Agony, that pants for breath, Despair and honourable death. * * K * * ” GRAY. TUDOR. FROM THE WELSH. FILt the horn of glossy blue, Ocean’s bright cerulean hue ; Briskly quaff the flavorous mead, *Tis a day to joy decreed. High the fame of Tudor’s birth, Valour his, and conscious worth. Have you seen the virgin snow That tops old Aran’s peering brow ; Or lucid web, by insect spun, Purpureal gleam in summer sun? With such, yet far diviner light, Malvina hits the dazzled sight; Such the reward, can Tudoyr’s breast Dare to court ignoble rest? ee ee ee ee TRANSLATIONS. 251 From the cliff sublime and hoary, See descending martial glory ; Armed bands aloft uprear Crimson banner, crimson spear; - Venodotia’s ancient boast Meets the pride of London’s host; On they move with step serene, And form a dreadly pleasing scene. Heard you that terrific clang? Through the pathless void it rang: The’ expecting raven screams afar, And snuffs the reeking spoils of war. Have you e’er on barren strand Ta’en your solitary stand, And seen the whirlwind’s spirit sped O’er the dark green billowy bed? Glowing in the thickest fight, Such resistless Tudor’s might. MATHIAS. TO A STREAM. FROM THE ERSE OF OSSIAN. Ou, flow round Lutha’s narrow plain, sweet stream, And let the wild woods hanging o’er thee wave, And let the sun there shed his warmest gleam, And light winds gently breathe o’er Ossian’s grave ! At early morn the hunter passing by No more shall hear my harp’s harmonious fall ; Then shall he drop the tender tear, and cry ‘ Where is the tuneful son.of great Fingal?’ 252 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XI. ‘ = _Then come, Malvina, all thy music yield, _ Let thy soft song once more delight my breast, Then raise my tomb in Lutha’s narrow field, And lull my dying spirits into rest. Where art thou, lovely maid? Where is thy song? Where are the soft sounds of thy passing feet? Thou canst not come, nor shall I call thee long, : Till in my father’s airy halls we meet. Oh pleasant be thy rest, thou lovely beam! { Silent and slow thy peaceful light declined: Like the pale moon upon the trembling stream, Soon hast thou set, and left us dark behind. We sit around the rock—but there no more Thy voice remains to soothe, thy light to cheer: Soon hast thou set on our deserted shore, And left us all in gloomy darkness here! MERIVALE, LOVE ELEGY. | FROM THE IRISH OF EDMOND RYAN. . Bricut her locks of beauty grew, Curling fair, and sweetly flowing ; And her eyes of smiling blue, Ob how soft! how heavenly glowing! Ah! poor plunder’d heart of pain! When wilt thou have end of mourning? This long, long year, I look in vain To see my only hope returning. Oh! would thy promise faithful prove, And to my fond, fond bosom give thee ; Lightly then my steps would move, Joyful should my arms receive thee. TRANSLATIONS. 253 Then, once more, at early morn, Hand in hand we should be straying, Where the dewdrop decks the thorn, With its pearls the woods arraying. Cold and scornful as thou art, Love’s fond vows and faith belying, Shame for thee now rends my heart, My pale cheek with blushes dying! Why art thou false to me and love? (While health and joy with thee are vanish’d) Is it because forlorn I rove, Without a crime*, unjustly banish’d? Safe thy charms with me should rest, Hither did thy pity send thee; Pure the love that fills my breast, From itself it would defend thee. O, might I call thee now my own! No added rapture joy could borrow: ’T would be like heaven, when life is flown, To cheer the soul and heal its sorrow. See thy falsehood, cruel maid! See my cheek no longer glowing ; Strength departed, health decay’d ; Life in tears of sorrow flowing ! Why do I thus my anguish tell? Why pride in woe, and boast in ruin? O lost treasure !—fare thee well !— Loved to madness—to undoing. * Ryan was one of the proscribed partisans of James II. and commanded a company of Rapparees. 254 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. Yet, O hear me fondly swear ! Though thy heart to me is frozen, Thou alone, of thousands fair, Thou alone shouldst be my chosen. Every scene with thee would please ; Every care and fear would fly me! Wintry storms and raging seas Would lose their gloom if thou wert nigh me! Speak in time, while yet I live; Leave not faithful love to languish! O soft breath to pity give, Ere my heart quite break with anguish. Ah! what woes are mine to bear, Life’s fair morn with clouds o’ercasting ! Doom’d the victim of despair! Youth’s gay bloom pale sorrow blasting! Sad the bird that sings alone, | Flies to wilds, unseen to languish, Pours unheard the ceaseless moan, And wastes on desert air its anguish. Mine, O hapless bird! thy fate— The plunder’d nest—the lonely sorrow— The lost, the loved, harmonious mate— The wailing night—the cheerless morrow! eae ee O thou dear hoard of treasured love! [thee, Though these fond arms should ne’er possess Still, still my heart its faith shall prove, And its last sighs shall breathe to bless thee! MISS BROOKE, TRANSLATIONS. 255 THE HERMIT. FROM THE GERMAN OF WIELAND. ReEziA at once entranced in holy bliss, Awed by his look that beam’d celestial grace, Bows, as before the genius of the place, And prints his wrinkled hand with pious kiss ; Touch’d by his gracious mien and friendly air, His beard that swept his breast, and silver hair, Her soul the stranger as her sire reveres— A second look has banish’d all her fears— Each reads the other’s heart, nor finds a stranger there. d Plain on his noble aspect shone confess’d Grandeur, beneath a cowl that mildly gleam’d; His eye a smile on all creation beam’d: And though the touch of time had gently press’d His neck, soft bow’d beneath the weight of years, Sublimely raised to heaven, his brow appears The shrine of peace; and like a sun-gilt height, Where never earthly mist obscured the light, Above the stormy world its tranquil summit rears. Time from his features long had worn away The rust of earth, and passion’s gloomy frown: He would not stoop to grasp a falling crown, Nor bend the sceptre of a world to sway. Free from the vain desires that earth enthral, Free from vain terrors that mankind appal, Untouch’d by pain, and unassail’d by fear, To truth alone he turn’d his mental ear: Alone to nature tuned, and her sweet simple call. 256 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XII. Ere from the storm of life to peace restored, He call’d himself Alonzo. Leon bore The noble infant on her pleasant shore, And rear’d him for the service of her lord. And there, with thousands like himself deceived, He chased the shades, still cheating, still believed, That tempt the sight, yet still the touch elude, And like the chemist’s stone in vain pursued, Leave the fond wretch they lured in hopeless misery grieved. And when he thus had wasted golden youth Mid kingly smiles, and in the drunken mood Of self delusion drain’d his wealth and blood, With zeal unthank’d, and unacknowledged truth, In the fair morn of favour’s roseate day, By sudden fall his fetters drop away : On the wide world’s tempestuous ocean cast, How happy from the storm escaped at last, To save the wreck of life, a want-devoted prey! Yet still to cheer him in this wreck of life, One treasure, source of soothing peace remain’d: In this he deems all happiness regain’d ; A friend, a cottage, and a faithful wife. [spare, ‘ O gracious Heaven! but deign these blessings Spare me but these!’ was now his only prayer. No other wish his happy spirit knew— Heaven heard—ten years like one too swiftly flew, Then o’er their tomb he bow’d animage of despair! Three sons, fair thriving in life’s vernal bloom, The image of his youth, and hope of age, Are swept away by pestilential rage, And grief soon lays their mother in the tomb. TRANSLATIONS. 257 What now is left that sighs his sigh to hear, Who, when he weeps, consoles with answering For, ah! his only friend, he too is gone! [tear? Bereft of all he loved he pines alone; [severe! Lone, in a stranger world, bow’d down with woe He droops upon the desolated spot, A lone and leafless tree mid stormy gales: The fountain of his joy for ever fails— How insupportable the friendless cot Where happiness once fix’d her chosen place ! What is the world? a vast and vacant space For fortune’s wheel to roll around at will! His last loved prop now gone, why linger still? His sole sad wish a grave, to end his weary race. Within this void inhospitable seat Alphonso flew with woe-bewilder’d mind : And found, what grief had never hoped to find, Peace and content as tardy years retreat. [flown, Though worldlings from the wretch had basely One who Alphonso’s prosperous days had known, An old domestic, faithful to his lord, Cleaves to his side in grief without reward— And here their sole retreat, the rude o’erhanging stone. \ And by degrees he struggled through the flood That nigh o’erwhelm’d his soul in hopeless death— Peace,stillness,temperance,zephyr’s balmy breath, His mind unclouded, purified his blood, And bade new hope a gleam of joy restore, And now he felt from Heaven’s exhaustless store | That e’en for wounds like his a balsam flow’d: Felt, when the magic of a sunbeam glow’d, That nature’s charms had power to soothe his soul once more, VOL, VI. LL 258 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. POKiT, And when at last this paradise he saw, By some kind genius fenced with rocks around, As if for him a consecrated ground, He feels affliction from his soul withdraw : He feels his spirit glowing with delight, Roused from the tortures of a feverous night, Soar to the twilight of eternal day—, ‘ Here rest,’ he cries, ‘ this paradise survey, Rest, where no worldly grief our souls shall rudely smite.’ Thus in enjoyment, and alternate toil, He the late harvest of his life consumed, And till’d his little spot, where ever bloom’d Luxuriant plenty from the grateful soil— Labour was pleasure, labour sweeten’d rest : Lost to the world, its miseries seem’d at best A childish dream, whene’er he turn’d to trace The wretched earnings of his earthly race : Thus conscience, health, and peace his spirit daily bless’d. Now,bow’d with years, his loved companion died— Alone remain’d the hermit, yet the more His spirit turn’d to that celestial shore, Where all he loved did with their God reside— There dwelt his soul—a wandering stranger here— Mid the still night when objects disappear, And bodies, as external senses die, In their first nothing seem again to lie, Oft on his cheek he felt a breathing spirit near. Then his half slumbering ears in trance perceive, With shuddering rapture heard, the groves among, Angelic harmonies at distance sung, For him the inexpressive chorus weave : TRANSLATIONS. 259 And as he lists he feels earth’s slender wall, That parts him from his friends, about to fall: His spirit swells, a flame celestial bright Burns in his breast, while robed in heavenly light Shapes of the viewless world his soul responsive call. These yet remain, when softly laid in sleep His eyelids close, and in the morning rays When the wide world its theatre displays, Still o’er his sense the warbled echoes sweep; A soul-felt glance of heavenly joy supreme Gilds all around, the groves and mountains gleam ; And, over all, he sees the form divine, The Uncreated in his creatures shine, Bright as in drops of dew the sun’s reflected beam. Thus imperceptibly did heaven and earth United in his soul together run: His spirit brightens like an inward sun: Far from the dissonance of mortal birth, From passion’s turmoil, in this holy gloom Joys that await the bless’d his soul illume. Who locks my daring lip with viewless seal Lest aught ineffable its warmth reveal? Mute o’er the abyss I bend—man dares no more presume. SOTHEBY. 260 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp, Xl. THE WILD HUNTSMEN. The tradition of the ‘ Wild Huntsmen’ is a popular supersti- tion very generally believed by the peasants of Germany. Whosoever wishes for more information respecting these imaginary sportsmen, will find his curiosity fully satisfied by perusing the first volume of the German Romance of ‘ The Necromancer.’ The original of this Ballad is by Burger, author of the well known ‘ Leonora.’ THE wildgrave * winds his bugle horn; To horse, to horse, halloo, halloo ! His fiery courser snuffs the morn, And thronging serfs their lord pursue. The eager pack, from couples freed, Dash through the bush, the briar, the brake ; While answering hound and horn and steed The mountain echoes startling wake. The beams of God’s own hallow’d day Had painted yonder spire with gold, And, calling sinful man to pray, Loud, long, and deep the bell had toll’d. But still the wildgrave onward rides ; Halloo, halloo, and hark again ! When, spurring from opposing sides, Two stranger horsemen join the train. Who was each stranger, left and right, Well may I guess, but dare not tell: The right hand steed was silver white, The left the swarthy hue of hell. * The Wildgrave is a German title, corresponding to the Earl Warden of a royal forest. TRANSLATIONS. 261 The right hand horseman, young and fair, His smile was like the morn of May ; The left from eye of tawny glare, Shot midnight lightning’s lurid ray. He waved his huntsman’s cap on high, Cried, ‘ Welcome, welcome, noble lord! What sport can earth or sea or sky, To match the princely chase, afford ?— —‘ Cease thy loud bugle’s clanging knell,’ Cried the fair youth, with silver voice; ‘ And for devotion’s choral swell, Exchange the rude unhallow’d noise. ‘ To-day the ill omen’d chase forbear ; Yon bell yet summons to the fane: To-day the warning spirit hear, To-morrow thou mayst mourn in vain.’— —‘ Away, and sweep the glades along !’— The sable hunter hoarse replies ; —‘ To muttering monks leave matin song, And bells and books and mysteries.’— The wildgrave spurr’d his ardent steed, And, launching forward with a bound, —‘ Who for thy drowsy priestlike rede Would leave the jovial horn and hound? ‘ Hence, if our manly sport offend : With pious fools go chant and pray ; Well hast thou spoke, my dark-brow’d friend,— Halloo! halloo! and hark away !’— The wildgrave spurr’d his courser light, O’er moss and moor, o’er holt and hill; And on the left and on the right Each stranger horseman follow’d still. 262 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XU. Up springs, from yonder tangled thorn, A stag more white than mountain snow ; And louder rung the wildgrave’s horn !— —‘ Hark forward, forward, holla, ho !’— A heedless wretch has cross’d the way,— He gasps the thundering hoofs below ; But live who can, or die who may, Still forward, forward! on they go. See, where yon simple fences meet, A field with autumn’s blessings crown’d ; See, prostrate at the wildgrave’s feet, A husbandman with toil embrown’d. —‘ O mercy! mercy! noble lord, Spare the poor’s pittance was his cry, Earn’d by the sweat these brows have pour’d In scorching hour of fierce July.’— Earnest the right hand stranger pleads, The left still cheering to the prey: The impetuous earl no warning heeds, But furious holds the onward way. —‘ Away; thou hound so basely born, Or dread the scourge’s echoing blow !’— Then loudly rung his bugle-horn, —‘* Hark forward, forward! holla, ho!’— So said, so done—a single bound Clears the poor labourer’s humble pale: Wild follows man and horse and hound, Like dark December’s stormy gale. And man and horse and hound and horn Destructive sweep the field along ; While, joying o’er the wasted corn, Fell famine marks the maddening throng. TRANSLATIONS. 263 Again, uproused, the timorous prey Scours moss and moor and holt and hill; Hard run, he feels his strength decay, And trusts for life his simple skill. Too dangerous solitude appear’d; He seeks the shelter of the crowd ; Amid the flock’s domestic herd His harmless head he hopes to shroud. O’er moss and moor and holt and hill, His track the steady bloodhounds trace ; O’er moss and moor, unwearied still, The furious earl pursues the chase. Full lowly did the herdman fall,— ‘ Oh, spare, thou noble baron, spare These herds, a widow’s little all; These flocks, an orphan’s fleecy care.’— Earnest the right hand stranger pleads, The left still cheering to the prey; The earl nor prayer nor pity heeds, But furious keeps the onward way. —‘ Unmanner’d dog! to stop my sport, Vain were thy cant and beggar whine, Though human spirits of thy sort Were tenants of these carrion kine !’— Again he winds his bugle-horn,— ‘ Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!’ And through the herd, in ruthless scorn, He cheers his furious hounds to go. In heaps the throttled victims fall : Down sinks their mangled herdsman near: The murderous cries the stag appal. Again he starts new-nerved by fear. 264 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XII. With blood besmear’d, and white with foam, While big the tears of anguish pour, He seeks, amid the forest’s gloom, The humble hermit’s hallow’d bower. But man and horse and horn and hound Fast rattling on his traces go; The sacred chapel rung around f With hark away, and holla, ho! All mild, amid the rout profane, The holy hermit pour’d his prayer :— —‘ Forbear with blood God’s house to stain ; Revere his altar, and forbear ! ‘The meanest brute has rights to plead, Which, wrong’d by cruelty or pride, Draws vengeance on the ruthless head ;— Be warn’'d at length, and turn aside.’ Still the fair horseman anxious pleads, The black, wild whooping, points the prey ; Alas! the earl no warning heeds, But frantic keeps the forward way. —‘ Holy or not, or right or wrong, Thy altar and its rights I spurn; Not sainted martyrs’ sacred song, Not God himself shall make me turn.’— He spurs his horse, he winds his horn,— ‘ Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!— But off, on whirlwind’s pinions borne, The stag, the hut, the hermit go. And horse and man, and horn and hound, And clamour of the chase was gone: For hopfs and howls and bugle sound, A deadly silence reign’d alone. TRANSLATIONS. Wild gazed the affrighted earl around; He strove in vain to wake his horn, In vain to call; for not a sound Could from his anxious lips be borne. He listen’d for his trusty hounds; No distant baying reach’d his ears ; His courser, rooted to the ground, The quickening spur unmindful bears. Still dark and darker frown the shades, Dark as the darkness of the grave; And not a sound the still inyades, Save what a distant torrent gave. High o’er the sinner’s humbled head At length the solemn silence broke; And from a cloud of swarthy red, The awful voice of thunder spoke. —‘ Oppressor of creation fair, Apostate spirit’s harden’d tool! Scorner of God! scourge of the poor! The measure of thy cup is full. Be chased for ever through the wood, For ever roam the’ affrighted wild ; And let thy fate instruct the proud, God’s meanest creature is his child.’— ’Twas hush’d: one flash of sombre glare With yellow tinged the forests brown ; Up rose the wildgrave’s bristling hair, And horror chill’d each nerve and bone. Cold pour’d the sweat in freezing rill; A rising wind began to sing ; And louder, louder, louder still, Brought storm and tempest on its wing. VOL. VI, MM Or 266 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, P. Xi Earth heard the call—her entrails rend ; From yawning rifts, with many a yell, Mix’d with sulphureous flames, ascend The misbegotten dogs of hell. What ghastly huntsman next arose, Well may I guess, but dare not tell ; His eye like midnight lightning glows, His steed the swarthy hue of hell. The wildgrave flies o’er bush and thorn, With many a shriek of helpless woe; Behind him hound, and horse, and horn, And hark away, and holla, ho! With wild despair’s reverted eye, Close, close behind he marks the throng, With bloody fangs, and eager cry; In frantic fear he scours along. Still, still shall last the dreadful chase, Till time itself shall have an end ; By day they scour earth’s cavern’d space, At midnight’s witching hour ascend. This is the horn, and hounds, and horse, That oft the lated peasant hears : Appall’d, he signs the frequent cross, When the wild din invades his ears. The wakeful priest oft drops a tear For human pride, for human woe, When at his midnight mass he hears The infernal cry of holla, ho! SIR WALTER SCOTT. TRANSLATIONS. — 267 ILLUSIONS OF YOUTH. FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER. Companions of my earlier years, For ever faithless will ye fly, With all your train of hopes and fears, Aspiring thoughts and warm desires, Creative Fancy’s magic fires That warm’d my opening mind with distant scenes Imagination’s airy train, | [of joy? Can nought your hasty flight retain? Ah! never, never shall I see Those visions of my early prime ; Swept by the ruthless storms of time, Lost in the ocean of eternity. And are those suns for ever set in night, That spread their lustre o’er my dawning day? Those cherish’d visions of supreme delight So oft invoked, no longer will they stay ? Each wish that fired my inexperienced mind, And promised bliss and purity below, Say, must it still in reason find a foe, And leave a dull and dreary void behind ? As once the sculptured image fired Pygmalion with an amorous flame, Till breath and genial life inspired The marble’s cold and senseless frame ; So Nature to my opening soul Appear’d in all her charms array’d, Imagination lent her aid, And mimic life inspired the wondrous whole. 268 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XIt. Responsive to my ardent mind, The magic influence spread o’er all; The tree, the flower, the waterfall, The forest wild, the lawn, the grove, All seem’d, to life and sense refined, To echo back the song of boundless love. Methought an influence divine, Ruled with almighty power my mind, And urged to every great design, Form'd by the love of humankind! How vast, how fair appear’d this wondrous scene, When Hope at first its opening buds display’d ! How dull and comfortless, how poor and mean, Has Reason since this mighty world portray’d! When first life’s journey I began, Unburden’d by the load of care, In thought with mighty strides I ran To scenes that Fancy painted fair; Already would my wishes fly To many a great and arduous height, Nought was too distant, nought too high, To tempt my fancy’s daring flight. How easy thence to snatch the prize It seem’d amid the glorious strife, While danced before my dazzled eyes The forms that glitter in the morn of life. Methought, obedient to my call, That Love his roses in my path had strown ; That Fortune, with her golden crown, And Fame, that hides in stars his lofty crest, And Truth, in never-fading sunbeams dress’d, On me had doom’d their choicest gifts to fall, TRANSLATIONS. 269 The fairy- scenes are flown, The bright enchantment vanished in air ; Faithless, for ever are they gone, Unmark’d, unheard my prayer. On hasty wing has Fortune urged her flight, Nor Knowledge grants me yet her gifts to share, While hid in clouds of doubt is Truth’s immortal I saw the palm of high renown [light. The undeserving brow adorn ; I look’d—and lo! for ever flown The opening sweets of life’s delicious morn! And deeper still and darker grew The shades that gather’d round my lonely way, While mid the dull and dreary view Hope scarcely shed a feeble doubtful ray. Of all the visionary train That Fancy erst was wont to raise, O say, which faithful yet remain To cheer the evening of my days ? Thou, Friendship, who alone hast power To heal each deeply-rankling wound, And cheer afiliction’s darkest hour— Thou whom I early sought and found: Employment, too, whose healing balm Can still the passions’ madding rage, The tempest of the soul can calm, And all life’s ills assuage. ’Tis thou who, unappal’d by toil, Canst to perfection bring each nobler aim, And atoms upon atoms pile, To form a system’s mighty frame ; Led by thy hand in life’s declining day, Hours, minutes, months, and years, will softly steal away. 3.18. 279 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp. XU. STANZAS TO A VALLEY. FROM THE GERMAN OF VON SALIS. SWEET valley, bounded by these pine-clad hills, Ye meads, just seen through yonder opening glade ; Ye darksome groves, ye softly murmuring rills, Thou cot, conceal’d beneath yon walnut’s shade ; From the high summit of this mount, bless’d scene, With transport does a wanderer hail thy charms ; Mid Nature’s beauties, tranquil and serene, He seeks a refuge from the world’s alarms. Oh, bid him welcome then, ye verdant steeps! Oh, bid him welcome then, ye flowery brakes ; Lull’d in your bosom every sorrow sleeps, While only mild and calm reflection wakes: My life’s career is to contracted bounds Confined, as thine, oh! seat of soft delight! And, as the end of yon meandering rounds, Its close is veil’d in darkness from my sight. Ambition’s vessel, on a faithful shore Here rests in peace, her anchor sweet content ; Here curiosity is seen no more, With prying eye exploring each event. Malignity aims not her venom here Against mild innocence’ unguarded breast ; Nor mid the aspens that are rustling near Does hissing scorn erect her serpent crest. Care seeks not, with o’erclouding brow and mind, To pry into the future’s dreary waste; No place of rest can pallid envy find ; Of vain remorse no footsteps can be traced, TRANSLATIONS, 271 But o’er the grassy meads the Muses rove, Or byyon stream that through the valley strays ; While inspiration whispers through the grove, And sportive fancy mid the foliage plays. From the white village church, amid those trees, Ne’er does the midnight clang of terror sound ; Nor o’er this Tempe does the balmy breeze E’er waft heart-rending notes of discord round. The fearful din of clashing weapons ne’er The echo of that ivied cavern wakes; ___[care, But while the herdsman’s horn sounds free from To the sweet shepherd’s pipe the morning breaks. In the soft meads the lowing herds repose, The wild goats browze upon the steepy rocks; While from the mouldering tower, at evening's close, The screechowl hoots amid the falling blocks. The silver poplars in the Zephyrs play, Their leaves presenting still a varying hue; The mill that stops yon streamlet’s gentle way At pauses strikes, to measured time still true. On the tall trees the thrush her wild notes sings, While the meek grasshopper still chirps below ; The mowevr’s sithe through all the valley rings, And the bees hum as laden home they go. Oh! bless’d the man, who from his heart can hail These tranquil scenes, here study nature’s page ; As Petrarch, in his rock-encompass’d vale, And in Scillonte’s shades the Grecian sage *. * Xenophon, who, banished from his native country, retired to Scillonte, in Peloponnesus, not far from Olympia, where he devoted his latter years to hunting and agriculture. 272 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, Pp. sub And ye, who’ve long repented that your choice Once led ye to pursue the worldling’s course,’ Fly, fly the storm; obey mild Nature’s voice, And peaceful rest from the rude tempest’s force. Here may the heart, too oft by man betray’d, Form round himself a world where guilt’s un- The injured lover, the forsaken maid, [known; Their soul’s deep wrongs in silence may bemoan. And thou, mild seraph,who, through passing years, Hast watch’d my steps, thy guardian cares may Encircled round with golden hope appears [cease; The future now, as here I rest in peace. While here, as at the brink of heavenly joy, I fix my seat, abjuring worldly dreams ; Resolved ambition’s tune shall ne’er decoy My heart again, to taste her troubled streams. Love’s wants are few, a garden, plough, and field, An arbour by his fair one’s fingers dress’d, A straw-roof’d cot from curious eyes conceal’d, A spot where two united urns may rest. Far as a shepherd, in fair Enna’s dale, _ The distant roaring of the billows hears, So distant now the sons of history’s tale, In low and broken sounds, assails mine ears. Nor shall ambition’s votaries e’er a note Of admiration from my bosom gain; Those who for liberty their lives devote, Alone can from my hands a crown obtain. Too proud to serve, where rank or pay invites, No more a hireling to another’s laws; Yet ne’er will I desert man’s genuine rights, But gladly perish in fair Freedom’s cause. —_——_ EE OE TRANSLATIONS. 273 And when at last I rest from mortal strife, , O’er my cold clay let silver roses bloom; And ah! may those who shared my love through life Shed drops of fond affection o’er my tomb. ANNE PLUMPTRE, TO A VIOLET. FROM THE GERMAN OF WIESSE. THOUGH from thy bank of velvet torn, Hang not, fair flower, thy drooping crest; On Delia’s bosom shalt thou find ° A softer sweeter bed of rest. Though from mild zephyr’s kiss no more Ambrosial balms thou shalt inhale, Her gentle breath, whene’er she sighs, Shall fan thee with a purer gale. But thou be grateful for that bliss For which in vain a thousand burn, And, as thou stealest sweets from her, Give back thy choicest in return. RUSSELL. THE FISHERMAN. FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE. THE water rushed, the water swell’d, A fisherman sat nigh; Calm was his heart, and he beheld His line with watchful eye: VOL, VI. NN 274 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. xIt. While thus he sits with tranquil look, In twain the water flows; Then crown’d with reeds from out the brook, A lovely woman rose. To hiin she sung, to him she said, ‘ Why tempt’st thou from the flood, By cruel arts of man betray’d, Fair youth, my scaly brood? ‘ Ah! knewest thou how we find it sweet Beneath the waves to go, Thyself would leave the hook’s deceit, And live with us below. ‘ Love not their splendour in the main The sun and moon to lave? Look not their beams as bright again, Reflected on the wave? ‘ Tempts not this river’s glassy blue, So crystal, clear, and bright? Tempts not thy shade, which bathes in dew. And shares our cool delight?”— The water rush’d, the water swell’d, The fisherman sat nigh ; With wishful glance the flood beheld, And long’d the wave to try. To him she said, to him she sung, The river’s guileful queen: Half in he fell, half in he sprung, And never more was seen. M. G. LEWIS. _ F TRANSLATIONS. 275 STANZAS. FROM THE GERMAN OF BRUNCKER,. I rounD’the warrior on the plain, His eye was fix’d, his hand was chill, Still bore his breast the life-blood’s stain, The blood was on his helmet still. He died, as hearts like his should die, In the hot-clasp of victory ! The eye was fix’d, but in its gaze Look’d the high soul; the crimson’d brow Was cold, but life’s departing rays Had lit it with a warrior’s glow. The soul that from that turf had flown Would not have sought a prouder throne. I saw the lovev’s living shade Shivering in Summer’s rosiest gale, The look of woe, the cheek decay’d, The eye’s dark brilliance sunk and pale: Rather than drag that life of pain, Give me the sword, the strife, the plain! ANONYMOUS. PRO PATRIA MORI. FROM THE GERMAN OF BURGER. For virtue, freedom, human rights, to fall, Beseems the brave: it is a Saviour’s death! Of heroes only the most pure of all Thus with their heart’s blood tinge the battle- heath. 276 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, P, xlts And this proud death is seemliest in the man Who for a kindred race, a country bleeds: Three hundred Spartans form the shining van Of those, whom fame in this high triumph leads. Great is the death, for a good prince incurr’d; Who wields the sceptre with benignant hand: Well may for him the noble bare his sword, Falling he earns the blessings of a land. Death for friend, parent, child, or her we love, If not so great, is beauteous to behold: This.the fine tumults of the heart approve ; It is the walk to death unbought of gold. But for mere majesty to meet a wound— Who holds that great or glorious, he mistakes : That is the fury of the pamper’d hound, Which envy, anger, or the whip awakes. And for a tyrant’s sake to seek a jaunt To hell’s a death which only hell enjoys: Where such a hero falls—the gibbet plant, A murderer’s trophy, and a plunderer’s prize. ANONYMOUS. THE LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS, @n her Wirthvan. FROM THE BOHEMIAN, IF any white-wing’d power above My joys and griefs survey, The day when thou wert born, my love— He surely bless’d that day. > i aa, a i TRANSLATIONS. 2a IT laugh’d (till taught by thee) when told Of Beauty’s magic powers, That ripen’d life’s dull ore to gold, And changed its weeds to flowers. My mind had lovely shapes portray’d ; But thought I earth had one Could make even Fancy’s visions fade Like stars before the sun? I gazed, and felt upon my lips The’ unfinish’d accents hang: One moment’s bliss, one burning kiss, To rapture changed each pang. CAMPBELL. TO A MOURNER. FROM THE DUTCH OF TOLLENS. THE creeping worm that, wet and weary, Was slumbering in its narrow cell, Enraptured, bursts that prison dreary, And, fluttering, leaves its wither’d shell: Gently moving—gaily roving Far away from earthly care ; Soaring brightly—wafted lightly Through the boundless fields of air. Thou, Mourner, dry that thoughtless tear, And gaze no more upon the dead ; ’Tis but a solitary bier ! No earthly spirit lingers there; * On wings of light to heaven ’tis fled ! BOWRING, 278 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Ps 30 THE HOUSE OF SLEEP. FROM THE ITALIAN OF ARIOSTO. THE angel trusts her faith, nor longer stays, But speeding from the convent wide displays His rapid wings, to reach by noon of night The house of Sleep with unremitting flight. A pleasing vale beneath Arabia’s skies, From peopled towns and cities distant lies : Two lofty mountains hide the depth below, Where ancient firs and sturdy beeches grow. The sun around reveals his cheering day, But the thick grove admits no straggling ray To pierce the boughs: immersed in secret shades, A spacious cave the dusky rock pervades. The creeping ivy on the front is seen, And o’er the entrance winds her curling green. Here drowsy Sleep has fix’d his noiseless throne, Here Indolence reclines his limbs o’ergrown Through sluggish ease; and Sloth, whose trem- bling feet Refuse their aid and sink beneath her weight. Before the portal dull Oblivion goes, He suffers none to pass, for none he knows. Silence maintains the watch and walks the round In shoes of felt, with sable garments bound ; And oft as any thither bend their pace, He waves his hand, and warns them from the place. HOOLE, TRANSLATIONS. 279 THE DEATH OF ZERBINO. FROM THE ITALIAN OF ARIOSTO. His pais increase—and soon with shortening breath He feels the certain chill approach of death. The’ enfeebled warrior now his courser stays, And near a fountain’s side his limbs he lays. _Ah! what avails the wretched virgin’s grief? What can she here to yield her lord relief? In desert wilds for want she sees him die, No friend to help, no peopled dwelling nigh, Where she, for pity or reward, might find Some skilful leech his streaming wounds to bind. In vain she weeps—in vain with frantic cries She calls on Fortune, and condemns the skies. ‘ Why was I not in surging waters lost, When first my vessel left Gallicia’s coast?’ Zerbino, as his dying eyes he turned On her, while thus her cruel fate she mourn’d, More felt her sorrows than the painful strife Of nature struggling on the verge of life. ‘ My heart’s sole treasure! mayst thou still,’ he said, When I, alas! am number’d with the dead, Preserve my love—think not for death I grieve; But thee, thus guideless and forlorn to leave, Weighs heavy here—O! were my mortal date Prolong’d to see thee in a happier state, Bless’d were this awful hour—content in death, On that loved bosom to resign my breath. But summon’d now at Fate’s unpitying call, Unknown what future lot to thee may fall— 280 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, P. XU. By those soft lips, by those fond eyes I swear, By those dear locks that could my heart ensnare! Despairing to the shades of night I go, Where thoughts of thee, left to a world of woe, Shall rend this faithful breast with deeper pains Than all that hell’s avenging realm contains.’ At this, sad Isabella pour’d a shower Of trickling tears, and lowly bending o’er, Close to his mouth her trembling lips she laid, His mouth now pale like some fair rose decay’d; A vernal rose that, cropp’d before the time, Bends the green stalk, and withers ere its prime. ‘ Think not,’ she said, ‘ life of my breaking Without thy Isabella to depart: [heart! Let no such fears thy dying bosom rend: Where’er thou goest, my spirit shall attend: One hour to both shall like dismission give, Shall fix our doom, in future worlds to live, And partno more—when ruthless death shall close Thy fading eyes—that moment ends my woes! Or should I still survive that stroke of grief, At least thy sword will yield a sure relief. And, ah! I trust, relieved from mortal state, Each breathless corse shall meet a milder fate, When some, in pity of our hapless doom, May close our bodies in one peaceful tomb.’ Thus she: and while his throbbing pulse she feels Weak, and more weak, as death relentless steals Each vital sense, with her sad lip she drains The last faint breath of life that yet remains. To raise his feeble voice Zerbino tried— ‘ I charge thee now—O loved in death,’ he cried, ‘ By that affection which thy bosom bore, When, for my sake, thou left’st thy father’s shore, TRANSLATIONS. 281 And, if a truth like mine such power can give, While Heaven shall please—I now command thee, live! But never be it from thy thought removed, That, mach as man can love, Zerbino loved. Fear not but God in time will succour lend, From every ill thy virtue to defend ; As once he sent the Roman knight to save Thy youth unfriended from the robber’s cave : As from the seas he drew thee safe to land, And snatch’d thee from the’ impure Biscayner’s _And when at last all other hopes we lose, [hand: Be death the last sad refuge that we choose.’ Thus spoke the dying knight; but scarce were heard His latter words in accents weak preferr’d. Here ended life the light so drooping dies, When oil or wax no more the flame supplies. HOOLE. THE FALL OF RODOMONT. FROM THE ITALIAN OF ARIOSTO. RoGeErRo, who his fair advantage knew, Had seized his arm, and now with force he drew The furious king, and bending to and fro, Compell’d at length his saddle to forego. He fell—but whether by his force or skill, So fell, he seem’d Rogero’s equal still, Alighting on his feet—but all the field, That saw Rogero yet his weapon wield, [slight, High hopes conceived—meanwhile, with every The youth essay’d to keep the Pagan knight VOL. VI. 00 282 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XII. At distant bay, nor close too near with one Of such huge limb, strong nerve, and giant bone. He view’d the Pagan’s gaping wounds, he view’d His side and thigh with purple streams imbrued, And hoped, with ebbing strength, he soon must yield To him the glory of the well fought field. Still in his grasp the furious Pagan held The broken weapon; this, with force impell’d, He threw —the weapon sent with certain aim Against Rogero’s helm and shoulder came. So dreadful was the stroke, the gentle knight Reel’d here and there, and scarce his utmost might Sufficed to keep his tottering bulk upright. To close in nearer strife the Pagan tried ; His wounded thigh his hasty step denied ; And while he urged his feeble nerves in vain, One knee, beneath him bending, touch’d the plain. — His time Rogero took, he press’d his foe, He whirl’d his falchion round, with blow on blow, And laid once more the haughty Pagan low. Again more fierce he rose; and now they join’d; They grasp’d, with arms around each other twined. — His wounded side and thigh that vigour drain’d, ~ Which Rodomont.so oft in fight sustain’d. . Rogero well his pliant limbs could wield, t And long had practised in the wrestlers’ field. His ’vantage now he saw, and close pursued, And where the Pagan’s deepest wounds he view’d, ~ Where most he saw the purple current flow, Close and more close he press’d the’ enfeebled foe. — But Rodomont, with rage and shame impell’d, By turns Rogero’s neck and shoulders held, Now forward drew, now backward thrust, and The youthful hero to his cruel breast, _ [press’d TRANSLATIONS. 283 And lifted high—now here, now there, he strain’d The dauntless knight, and still his hold retain’d. While every means he tries on earth to throw The Christian youth; nor less his gallant foe, Collected in himself, his art and might Employs to disappoint the Pagan knight, And keep him still beneath ; oft wheeling round, Rogero shifts his hold, and shifts his ground. At length fierce Rodomont his waist enclosed With firmest grasp—now, breast to breast opposed, They toil—they pant—Rogero chief applied His art against the Pagan’s wounded side : Athwart his bending knee one foot he thrust, And, lifting, hurl’d him prostrate on the dust Headlong—wW hen thus the furious Pagan fell On the hard earth, the blood, as from a well, Stream’d from each wound, and deep on every side The fatal plain with gory crimson dyed. Rogero now, with Fortune’s favour crown’d, To keep the Pagan prisoner on the ground, One hand the dagger to his sight address’d, One hand with fearful grasp his throat compress’d, While either knee his heaving bosom press’d. As in Pannonian or Iberian gloom Where wretched miners cheerless days consume For shining ore, if fate above impends, And sudden ruin on their head descends, Crush’d up and bruised, their spirits scarcely find A vent to leave their mortal part behind; So lay the Sarzan prince, so, press’d beneath The victor, struggled in the jaws of death. The dagger, now unsheath’d, Rogero shook, And at his vizor seem’d to aim the stroke: He bade him yield, as vanquish’d in the strife, With plighted faith to spare his forfeit life ; 284 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XII. But he, whom thought of death far less dismay’d Than aught that signs of dastard fear betray’d, Still bent and twined; while all in vain he proved Against the knight, who kept his place unmoved. As when the mastiff, panting on the plain, Whose throat the nimble greyhound’s fangs con- strain With deadly gripe, in fruitless fury lies, With jaws dire foaming and with fiery eyes; Not all his force the victor can elude, By skill and vigour not by rage subdued— So Rodomont essay’d each art, to make The conquering youth his powerful hold forsake. He strove to rise; but still the wary knight Press’d him to earth with unabated might. Now, writhing here and there, the Pagan strain’d Each nerve, and freed at length his better hand, That in its grasp the’ insidious poniard bore (The poniard from the sheath released before) ; With this he sought to aim the murderous wound Beneath Rogero’s reins—the youth renown’d The danger saw, should still his generous heart Defer the Pagan’s death, his just desert ; Then at full stretch he raised his arm above The prostrate king, and thrice the weapon drove Deep in his horrid front—so ends the strife, And leaves secure Rogero’s fame and life! Where Acheron’s infernal waters spread, Freed from her icy limbs, blaspheming fled The’ indignant soul, that here, with impious pride, All human faith and Heaven’s own laws defied. HOOLE. ae TRANSLATIONS. 285 DESCRIPTION OF ARMIDA. FROM THE ITALIAN OF TASSO. THE fairy Armida, conscious of her power, Strong in her sex and beauty’s vernal flower, Assumes the welcome task; with closing day, She parts, through many a lone and hidden way ; With curling locks and silken vest she boasts To match unconquer’d chiefs and steel-clad hosts : While various rumours, ’mong the vulgar spread, Excused her parting, and their thoughts misled. Few days elasped, ere reach’d the beauteous maid [play’d: Where their white tents the Christian bands dis- Soon as the bright attraction caught their eyes, The whispering soldiers view’d her with surprise ; As when some meteor’s omen’d splendours glare, Or reddening comet fires the cloudless air, With straining eyes assembled mortals gaze, And watch his wondrous progress with amaze ; So thronging crowds the stranger fair admired, Her errand, country, and her name inquired. Nor Argos, Delos, nor the Cyprian shore E’er saw a face, a dress, so fair of yore; Gold were her locks, now beaming through the shade Of her white veil, now floating loose they play’d: So, when some tempest ends its shortlived reign, And brightening ether grows serene again, Now shines through fleecy clouds the solar ray ; Now from his covert issuing, bright and gay, The golden orb bursts forth, and pours redoubled day. 286 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp. XU. In native curls her waving ringlets flow, Yet added curls the breathing gales bestow : Her eye was fix’d upon herself alone, As greedy of Love’s treasures, and its own: Glow’d on her cheek the rose’s purple light, Though soften’d by the blending ivory’s white; But on her lips, whence breezy fragrance blows, ¥n all its genuine lustre bloom’d the rose. Her beauteous breast its naked snow displays, Potent to wake and feed the amorous blaze: Half stood to view each firm unyielding globe, Half lurk’d conceal’d beneath her envious robe; But though her robe the roving eye restrain, To curb the bolder thought, its power is vain; Unsatisfied with charms exposed to view, Thought leaps o’er every bound, and thirsts for new. As lucid crystal, or the’ impassive stream, Admits, unharm’d, light’s penetrating beam, So Fancy there beneath the silken fold Intrudes unfelt, and spatiates uncontrol’d ; There at its will, with analyzing gaze, The secret wonders leisurely surveys, Proclaims each beauty to the keen desire, Stirs the roused sense, and wakes intenser fire. Through wondering crowds the fair enchantress pass’d, And many a longing look the gazers cast. She mark’d the infant fire with conscious eye, And inly smiled, foretasting victory. REV. J. H. HUNT, TRANSLATIONS, 287 THE PALACE AND GARDEN OF ARMIDA. FROM THE ITALIAN OF TASSO. RounpD was the form the costly mansion show'd; Hid in the centre of the fair abode A beauteous garden lay, which far excell’d Whate’er or Fame has sung or eye beheld. Around, the work of many a demon’s hand, A range of buildings stood, confusedly plann’d: Through these the oblique and mazy paths that wound, Perplex’d the passage to the’ enchanted ground. Though the proud dome a hundred portals graced, Yet through the chief, the loftiest gate they pass’d. The massy valves of sculptured silver, roll’d On sounding hinges of refulgent gold. The graven figures wondering they beheld, Whose skilful workmanship by far excell’d The rich materials; life, expressive mind In every look, in every vesture shined ; Speech fail’d alone; and if we trust our eyes, Indued with speech, with life itself, they rise, There, girt with many a fair Mzonian maid, The great Alcides with his distaff play’d: He, who the starry heavens had once sustain’d, And o’er the powers of hell a conquest gain’d, A spindle wields, and with soft stories whiles The hours away ; fond Love stands by and smiles. And there, in scorn of hero’s toils, was seen To grasp his murderous arms the sportive queen, And on her back the lion’s trophies wear, Too rough a burden for a form so fair. 288 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, Kit. Hard by, the ocean spread its surface blue ; All white with silvery foam the billows grew. Two hostile navies tower’d amid the flood, In adverse ranks and pride of war they stood ; From their arm’d sides a steely lustre came; The sparkling surges glow’d with golden flame ; Leucate seem’d on fire, and beam’d afar With the dread splendour of the mimic war. Here mighty Cesar led his Roman bands; There, from the swarthy East’s remotest lands, Great Antony brought all his powers along, His Indian, Arab, and Egyptian throng. Seem’d as along the groaning waves were borne The Cyclades, from their firm base uptorn; Or as, encountering with gigantic shock, [rock ; Mountain with mountain crash’d, and rock with On either side with such o’erpowering sway The towerlike navies plough’d the billowy way. Darts, torches, fly; the seas are cover’d o’er With spoils and mangled limbs, and blush with But lo! ere yet inclined the battle’s scale, [gore. The royal beauty spread her swelling sail, And fled; nor did her doting lover stay, But threw the empire of the world away. Nor yet he fled; his brave his haughty breast No stain dishonour’d, and no fear possess’d ; He follow’d her who, with attraction strong, Could drag in honour’s spite e’en Antony along. He seem’d as one in whose disorder’d mind Love, shame, and anger glow’d at once, combined ; By turns the bloody fight, that doubtful raged, By turns the flying fair, his heart engaged. In Nile’s deep bosom hid, he seems to wait Lock’d in her warm embrace, his threaten’d fate, ; ‘ D a adh TRANSLATIONS. 289 And heedless of his loss, his woes beguiles With the soft witchcraft of a woman’s smiles. Such sculptured signs the stately portals show, Relieving the rich metal’s gaudy glow: The warlike pair the storied wonders view’d, And, entering, their intrepid way pursued. As through his crooked banks Meander strays, In many a sinuous, many a doubtful maze ; Now forward to the ocean takes his course, Now drives his refluent waters to their source; Now falls, now mounts,and, downward as he goes, Meets his returning wave, that upward flows; So round and round the winding labyrinth roll’d: But in the faithful chart each maze was told, The gift, which from the’ Enchanter wise they gain’d; There was the knot untied, the doubt explain’d. When through the labyrinth they had made their Before their eyes the lovely garden lay. [way, Still lakes of silver, streams that murmuring crept, Hills, on whose sloping brows the sunbeams slept, Luxuriant trees, that various forms display’d, And valleys, grateful with refreshing shade, Herbs, flowerets gay with many a gaudy dye, And woods, and arching grottos met their eye. What more than all enhanced those beauties rare, Though art was all in all, no sign of art was there ; Seem’d as if Nature reign’d in every part, Such easy negligence was mix’d with art: Nature herself, in frolic, might appear To imitate her imitator here. ’Twas magic’s spell call’d forth the genial breeze, That fill’d with pregnant life the bursting trees ; VOL. VI. PP 290 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pye. Eternal bloom they yield, eternal fruit, The fruitage ripening while the blossoms shoot. The self-same tree on one o’erloaded twig Bears the full-ripen’d and the nascent fig ; The apple hanging on the bough is seen In every shade of golden and of green. Where most the genial sun the garden cheer’d, Creeping aloft, the luscious vine appear’d ; Here clusters rude, there yellower grapes it bore, _ Or ruby-red, and rich with nectar’d store. Unnumber’d birds, the leafy boughs among, Trill’d the wild music of their wanton song. Murmur’d the undulating air around; The rills, the leafy grots return’d the sound, As loud or low the quivering Zephyrs rung: When ceased the birds, an echo deep they flung; But when the feather’d choir restored their lay, The echo, gently whispering, died away: Or chance the concert made, or art design’d, Each swelling song the music-breathing wind Alternate answer’d and alternate join’d. Amid the rest one beauteous warbler flew, With purple bill, and plumes of various hue; His pliant voice assumed the human tone, Each note, the shrill, the soft, the deep, his own. With wondrous skill, mellifiuous, loud, and long, Surpassing all belief, he pour’d his song. Their meaner strains his listening fellows closed; The whispering winds grew silent and reposed : ‘Behold how, bursting from its covert, blows, With virgin blushes deck’d, the modest rose ; With half her beauties hid-and half reveal’d ; More lovely still she seems, the more conceal’d, TRANSLATIONS. 291 Grown bolder soon, her bosom she displays All naked to the wind; then soon decays, And seems the same enchanting flower no more, Which youths and virgins fair admired before. Thus transient and ephemeral fades away The flower, the verdure of man’s shortlived day ; And though the year bring back the vernal hour, No more his verdure blooms, no more his flower. Cull we the rose, while laughs the’ auspicious morn Of that bright day, which must no more return: Cull we the rose; love’s transport let us prove, While love may answer and reward our love.’ Heceased; with one accord the feather’d throng Join’d in applausive chorus to his song. The playful doves renew’d their amorous kiss ; Each living thing was melted into bliss. Seem’d as the’ unbending oak, the laurel chaste, And every tree amid that flowery waste, Seem’das the earth, the waves, imbibed the charm, And lifeless Nature’s self with love grew warm. REV. J. H. HUNT. THE SUPPLICATION OF ARMIDA. FROM THE ITALIAN OF TASSO. As some musician sweet, ere yet his tongue Let loose the loud o’erpowering tide of song, Attunes, with warbled preludes, soft and low, His hearers’ souls to art’s ecstatic flow; Armida thus, who, mid her cruel lot, Not all her fraudful arts had yet forgot, 292 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XII, Breathed gentle sighs symphonious, to prepare The soul of him whom she adored, to bear The’ impression of her woe: then thus began— ‘ Hope not, thrice cruel and perfidious man, Hope not I come with suppliant prayers to move, As lovers fondly sue to those they love ;— Such once were we; but if those days be o’er, And e’en their memory can be borne no more, Yet lend, as to thy foe, thy listening ear; F’en foes vouchsafe the prayers of foes to hear. ’T were easy to accord what I require, And still preserve thy wrath, thy hate entire. If thou dost hate, if such thy savage joy, Thy blissful state I come not to destroy ; Yes—take thy fill of hate, if hate thou must; Just does it seem to thee, and be it just. My hatred too the Christian name incurr’d, And with the rest Rinaldo was abhorr’d ; A Pagan was I born; each nerve I strain’d To crush the empire which your arms had gain’d ; Thee I pursued, I seized, and hid afar In unknown regions from the fields of war. Nor this to other wrongs forget to join, That deeper shame and anger may be thine; Thee in the snares of Love my arts decoy’d: Ah! foul deceit! seduction ill employ’d! To sacrifice to thee my virgin flower, And place my beauties in a master’s power! That thou, a stranger, should’st the prize obtain, Which many a lover sought, and sought in vain! But to my guileful arts this charge be laid ; And to my crimes be this requital paid, That unrelenting thou shouldst hence remove, And quit these scenes, the land of happy love. TRANSLATIONS. 253 Go then, depart, o’er spacious ocean fly, Rejoin the war, and every effort try To crush our faith: I bid thee haste away ;— Our faith, alas! Armida, didst thou say ? Tis mine no more ; to thee my faith is owed, My only idol, and my only God. But let me follow thee; this grace bestow, This single grace ; small kindness to a foe! Bears not the thief his ravish’d spoil away? When parts the conqueror, does the captive stay? On me let all the camp admiring gaze ; Let this too swell the measure of thy praise, That she, the proud one, in thy train is borne, A scorner once, but now repaid with scorn. A slave despised, why longer do I wear The boasted honours of my flowing hair? These hands shall cut them off; if slave I be, A servile garb alone were worthy me. Thee will I follow mid the adverse host, When the fierce battle’s tumult burns the most ; No lack of courage will be mine, nor foree, To lift the lance, or lead the prancing horse. Thy buckler will I bear, thy buckler be, Nor will I spare myself in guarding thee ; The hostile steel, ere thou its point receive, Shall pierce this neck, this naked bosom cleave; So rude an enemy will ne’er be found To aim his sword at thee, lest me he wound: These slighted charms may teach thy foes to feel, And beauty’s glance arrest the lifted steel. Unbless’d Armida! dost thou still presume? Still boast thy beauty’s unavailing bloom? More had she utter’d, but the tears that. rose (So from a rock some gushing fountain flows) 294 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. xi. Stifled her words : with keen emotions fraught, His hand, his robe the lovely suppliant caught, In attitude of woe: the youth retired, And by resistance victory acquired: Love found all entrance closed against his power, And manly virtue curb’d the tearful shower: Love entered not, the passion to renew That coel at Reason’s sovereign mandate grew, But Pity found its way his heart to move, Pity, the modest partner still of Love. REV. J. H. HUNT. RINALDO IN THE ENCHANTED FOREST. FROM THE ITALIAN OF TASSO. THE chief himself, with strange surprise impress’d, Admired the lustre of his alter’d vest, Then, buoy’d by spirits light and hope renew’d, On to the gloomy grove his way pursued. He came where, conquer’d by the distant view, Less valiant warriors yielded and withdrew: Nor gloomy scenes nor fearful he descries, Delightful shade alone salutes his eyes. Farther he went, and heard a soothing sound, That fill’d the undulating air around ; The noise of falling rills, that hoarsely wept, Of winds that mid the branches murmuring crept, The tuneful cygnet’s melancholy wail, The answering plaint of lovelorn nightingale, The harp’s, the psaltery’s voice, the human tone, Such various sounds he heard express’d in one. He, caution’d by the rest, prepared his ear For bursting thunder and for sounds of fear, TRANSLATIONS. 295 But finds the voice of nymphs, the siren’s song, The warbled concert of the feather’d throng, The purling rill, the breeze’s whisper sweet : Awhile instinctive wonder chain’d his feet; Onward at last, in doubt, and slow he moved, Nor other hinderance or delay he proved, Save where a spacious river cross’d his road: Pure and in tranquil majesty it flow’d; Each bank with Nature’s choicest treasures bloom’d, With living verdure gay, with flowers perfumed ; So wide its horns it stretch’d, the extensive wood Was belted by the circumambient flood: Nor round the’ encircled space it flow’d alone; A lesser streamlet, from its bosom thrown, Parted the silvan ground; the water laves The’ embowering wood, the wood o’ershades the waves ; Each lent to each a mutual charm, and made A gradual interchange of stream and shade. To find a ford he for a moment tries, When lo! a wondrous bridge before his eyes Sprang up; of gold the structure seem’d, and show’d, On solid arches propp’d, a spacious road. He pass’d,—and scarce had reach’d the adverse bank, When in.the waves the crashing fabric sank, And roll’d in tumbled heaps the stream along, Late a calm river, now a torrent strong. He turn’d, and with amaze the change beheld; As if by melted snows increased, it swell’d, And, whirling round and round with headlong force, In foaming eddies urged its rapid course. 296 : ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. Xi. Yet, roused and on fresh wonders keenly bent, Through the thick trees his piercing eyes he sent, And still in those lone shades some wonder new Absorb’d his thoughts, and fix’d by turns his view. Where’er he moved, beneath his magic tread A fountain burst, a flowery carpet spread ; Here sprouts the lovely lily, there the rose ; A spring starts up, a gushing streamlet flows. Around and o’er his head, with youth renew’d, Fair smiled again the’ austere and aged wood ; The bark grew soft, and every tree was seen Gay with more joyous life, and fresh with brighter green ; Each dewy leaf luxuriant manna bore, The’ exuding bark distill’d a honey’d store. Wakening afresh, the music’s soothing strain Was heard once more to warble and complain; Yet none might guess where that strange chorus dwell’d, Which with the birds, the waves, the breezes, held Such concert sweet ; whence rose the voice to sing, Who breathed the melting flute, or swept the silver string. , While wondering he observes, and scarce believes What yet as true his outward sense receives, He spies a myrtle tall, and thither tends, Where in an area broad a pathway ends; Aloft and wide the shrub ambitious spread, And o’er the palm the cypress rear’d its head: Above each neighbouring tree elate it stood, And seem’d the mistress of the subject wood. In the wide space arrived, fresh marvels rise, And greater novelties arrest his eyes: An oak he sees, which of itself divides, W ondrous to tell! and from its bursting sides TRANSLATIONS. 297 There issued forth, in strange attire array’d, Of youthful years mature, a blooming maid. At once a hundred trees prolific part, And from their pregnant wombs a hundred dam- . Sels start. As when some artist’s hand delights to trace The fabled goddesses of silvan race; Or as the stage presents its woodnymphs fair, With colour’d buskins, and dishevell’d hair ; Short are their robes, their snowy arms are bare; So deck’d with Art’s and Nature’s beauty stood The’ unreal daughters of the teeming wood, ’ Save that the lute or chorded lyre they show In place of quiver and of bended bow. With hands combined they form a jocund ring, Weave the light dance, and tune their voice to sing. Himself the centre of the circle stands, While round and round him skip the frolic bands: _ Then round the tree they move; and soft and sweet The warrior’s ear these chanted accents meet— “Welcome, thrice welcome to this happy grove, O thou our queen’s delight, her hope, her love! Timely thou comest to heal her bleeding heart, Mangled and torn by Love’s unpitying dart ; This wood, enwrapp’d in dismal gloom of late, Abode well suited to her mournful state, Trod by thy steps, its features gay resumes, And with more vivid beauty smiles and blooms.’ Such was their song; and soon a dulcet strain -Burst from the myrtle; soon it rent in twain. Old times with awe majestic forms beheld, That in the breasts of rude Sileni dwell’d ; But from this myrtle’s opening bosom came A fairer sight; a nymph of matchless frame VOL. VI. aa 298 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. PP; XII. Sprang forth, that every glowing charm combined Ascribed by Fancy to the’ angelic kind. Intent Rinaldo gazed, and seem’d to trace The well known features of Armida’s face. She with a glad but melancholy look Eyed the proud youth; a hundred feelings spoke In that expressive glance: ‘ And do these eyes Behold Rinaldo once again” she cries ; ‘ Why art thou here? some comfort to bestow On widow’d night, and days of hopeless woe? Or comest thou on unkind aggression bent? Perchance to drive me hence thy harsh intent? Else why conceal that face, those features fair? Why grasp thy falchion, and for war prepare? Comest thou an enemy or lover, say? Not for an enemy I smooth’d the way, — That golden bridge supplied, and call’d to birth The springing flowerets from the lap of earth, Oped the pure fountain, and whate’er had proved A hinderance to thy cherish’d steps removed. But if a friend, that hidden face expose, ” To my charm’d gaze thy beaming eyes disclose, Soft lips with lips, with bosom bosom join, And let my hand at least unite with thine.’ As thus shespake, she roll’d her swimming eyes, Breathed the sweet magic of dissembled sighs, And sobs that thrill’d, and tears of crystal shed ; From her fair face the lovely colour fled ; In marble hearts soft sympathy might grow To see such piteous plenitude of woe. He cautious, though of heart that knew to feel, Delay’d no more, but drew his shining steel, And to the tree advanced: the Fair applied To the loved trunk her arms, and, clinging, cried, . TRANSLATIONS, 299 _ * Barbarian, hold! ne’er shall such outrage be, That hand of thine should harm my lovely tree! Lay down thy sword, or, cruel as thou art, Hide the keen weapon in Armida’s heart.’ Regardless of her prayer, his sword he rear’d, When lo! another prodigy appear’d ; Sudden an alter’d form, a huger size The maid assumed; ’tis thus the sleeper’s eyes See, when in dreams the roving senses range, From shape to shape the shadowy objects change. To monstrous bulk her swelling members grew ; Her blackening face was terrible to view ; Gone was her cheek’s pure white and rosy red; A towering giant now she rears her head, And huge and hideous and terrific stands, An arm’d Briareus with a hundred hands. The threatening phantom fifty falchions wields, And shakes with horrid clash as many shields. At once each Nymph a Cyclop vast appear’d, Threatening with arms; nor yet Rinaldo fear’d, But on the guarded tree his blows renew’d; The tree, as if with vital powers endued, Deep groan’d at every stroke the warrior lent: Instant through all the’ unmeasured air’s extent Such crowds of imps and fiends and goblins fell, Swarm’d, as if ether were transform’d to hell. The skies are wrapp’d in gloom, loud thunders sound, And rocks beneath his feet the trembling ground ; A war of winds and rattling tempests grows ; Full in his face a hurricano blows ; Nor could these horrors yet his arm detain, Nor does one well aim’d blow descend in vain. 300 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, P. XIl. The tree gives way,—it falls,—the spell is o’er; The enchantment ends—the fiends are seen no Instant the air was still, the sky serene, [more. And Nature reassumed the silvan scene ; Nor black with spells it seem'd, nor gay with bloom; Dark it became, but dark with native gloom. Again and yet again the conqueror tried, If aught perchance might interpose beside, To guard the forest from the woodman’s stroke ; Then to himself he smiled, and inly spoke: ‘ Oh! idle fantasies, and shadows vain! How weak, whom such illusive arts restrain !’ REV. J. H. HUNT. THE RECONCILIATION OF RINALDO AND ARMIDA. FROM THE ITALIAN OF TASSO. RINALDO paused to see where best were made His next attack, where needed most his aid: Order amid the foe no more he found; Their standards all lay prostrate on the ground. Then ceased his arm; then slept, at once repress’d The martial flame that burn’d within his breast; Calm he became; and straight the flying Fair He call’d to mind, her sorrow, her despair. Her flight he saw: Compassion now demands Protection for Armida at his hands. And still his plighted faith he kept in view, His pledge to be her knight and champion true, When homeward from the’ Enchanted Island borne, He bent his parting steps, and left her there for- lorn. TRANSLATIONS. ° 301 He follow’d where she fled, where’er he found Her palfrey’s steps imprinted on the ground. A spot recluse she reach’d, o’ercast with gloom, Meet for the suicide’s unhappy doom. Much she rejoiced that chance her steps had led To this lone vale, with dismal shade o’erspread. Dismounting from her steed, she laid aside Her hated bow and quiver, late her pride : ‘Unhappy arms, sad source of woe and shame,’ She cried, ‘ since bloodless from the fight ye came! I quit you here, here bury in the ground, Since to avenge my wrongs unequal found. What! in so choice a store, not one endued With power to dip its point in hostile blood? Though other hearts are adamant or steel, A woman’s bosom ye may force to feel. I offer you my breast, unarm’d and bare ; There be your worth display’d, your triumphs there. Its soft and yielding texture Love can tell ; There never yet in vain his arrows fell. Here show your temper; pardon’d thus shall be Your weakness past; be strong, be keen on me. Unbless’d Armida! cruel is thy doom, If from such source thine only hope can come! Since here all other remedies must fail, And wounds alone to cure my wounds avail, The barbed steel shall heal Love’s fiercer smart, And death, sad remedy! relieve my heart: Thrice happy, if my disembodied ghost Bear not this plague to haunt the’ infernal coast. Love, stay behind; thou, Anger, with me go; Be thou my comrade in the realms below, Or with my shade return to upper air, To drive the impious traitor to despair, 302 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI, With dreams of wild affright his sense o’erpower, And break his slumbers at the midnight hour.’ Here ceased the Fair; and with determined heart Chose out her strongest and her sharpest dart, When lo! the youthful knight arrived; he found Armida tottering on life’s utmost bound ; Her features fix’d in wild despair he view’d; On her fair cheek death’s ghastly paleness stood. Behind her close he came; her arm he press’d, Her arm just raised to pierce her beauteous breast. Armida turned ;—amazed the knight she spies ; Till now his coming had escaped her eyes. She scream’d, and from'the face she loved so well With scorn her eyes removed, and, swooning, fell ; She bent, like some fair flower half cut in twain, Her languid neck: he struggled to sustain The sinking fair; he clasp’d her slender waist, And from her breast the straightning robe dis- placed, While o’er lrer lovely face and breast of snow Some pious generous drops were seen to flow. Then, as restored by morning’s silver dew, The fading rose resumes its vermeil hue, So from her swoon recall’d, Armida rears Her face all glistening with another’s tears. Thrice her bright eyes she raised, as oft removed, Unwilling to behold the form she loved: The arm that sought her sinking frame to stay, With feeble hand she coyly put away; To quit his powerful grasp she thrice essay’d, And thrice more close he held the struggling maid. At length, within his dear embrace retain’d (For still perchance ’twas dear, though hate she feign’d), TRANSLATIONS. 303 While from her eyes a briny torrent ran, Still shrinking from his glance she thus began— ‘ Cruel at parting or returning, say, What adverse fortune hither guides thy way? ’Tis strange that thou, the author of my death, Shouldst now hold back by force my parting breath. Seek’st thou to save my life? what untried woe, What shame, what torture, must Armida know ? Thy deep and treacherous art I well descry ; But she is weak indeed who dares not die. Tarnish’d forsooth would be thy great renown, Unless thy boasted victory to crown, Were shown, in servile bonds, a captive maid, By force made captive now, as once betray’d. Time was I sued for life, I sued for peace ; Now welcome death shall bid my sufferings cease. But this from thee I deign not to demand ; All gifts were hateful at thy hated hand. Yes—with no aid of thine I hope to flee, Self-rescued, from thy heartless cruelty: And if the prison where thou bidd’st me lie The friendly noose, the precipice deny, Nor to a spirit bent on death afford The bowl envenom’d nor the deadly sword, Yet to my choice more certain ways are given,~ Beyond thy power tothwart: I thank thee, Heaven! Cease, cease ; no more thy false endearments show ! Ah! how he mocks my hopes, and tampers with my woe!’ ’T was thus she mourn’d ; and with the copious dew Which from her eyes discordant passions drew, His sympathizing tears the warrior join’d, Tears where with pity modest love combined, 304 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XI. And softly thus replied: * Armida, cease ; Lull’d be the tempest of thy soul to peace. On thee no insult, scorn, dishonour, wait; My aid shall give thee back thy kingly state ; In me a friend, a pledged protector know, Thy champion and thy servant, not thy foe, If to believe my tongue thy heart denies, Look up, and read Truth’s language in mine eyes. That crown which glitter’d on thy father’s brow, I swear, is thine: And oh! would Heaven allow Its saving grace, and with some kindly ray Purge from thine eye the Pagan mist away! Then in all Asia’s realms no female name Should match thy princely splendour or thy fame.’ So spoke the youth; and with entreaties kind, Tears such as heroes weep, and sighs, he join’d. As yields the flaky snow, and melts away, Warm’d by the tepid breeze, or solar ray, So ceased Armida’s wrath, at once repress’d, And softer passions woke within her breast. ‘ Behold thy slave; thy will my law shall be,’ She said; ‘ I rest my destinies on thee.’ REV. J. H. HUNT. TIME. FROM THE ITALIAN OF TASSO. Dames, that in the dazzling glow Of your youth and beauty go; Ye who, in your strength, defy Love with all his archery ; Ye who stand unconquer’d still, Conquering others as ye will— TRANSLATIONS. 305 Ye shall bend at last before The iron sceptre of my power. Mine shall be your glories then, Mine the triumphs of your train, Mine the trophy and the crown, Mine the hearts which ye have won; And your beauty’s waning ray Shall wax feeble and decay ; And your souls too proudly soaring, To see the prostrate world adoring. Time, imperial Time, am I; _ Time, your lord and enemy, Time, whose passing wing can blight, With the shadow of its flight, More than Love in all his pride, With his thousands by his side. While I speak the moments fly, And my spirit silently Creeps into your sparkling eyes, And amidst your tresses lies— Here the wreathed knots untwining, There bedimming beauty’s shining, Blunting all the piercing darts Which the amorous eye imparts, And wearing loveliness away To crumble with its kindred clay. On I fly; I speed away, On for ever and for aye— But, alas! ye take no heed To the swiftness of my speed, Bearing like a mighty river, In its downward course for ever, VOL. VI. RR 306 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XII. All your gay and glittering throng, Honours, titles, names along, Mortal hopes and mortal pride, With the stillness of its tide. Soon shall come that fatal hour When, beneath my arm of power, Lowly shall ye bend the knee. Soon shall Love the palace flee, Where he sits enthroned on high In the lustre of your eye ; And their victor standard there Age and chill Reserve shall rear. Soon, like captives, shall ye learn Ways less wild and laws more stern; Gone shall be your smiling glances, Hush’d your carols and your dances ; And your golden robes of pride All too soon be laid aside, For the vesture gray and sere, Which my humbled captives wear. And I now proclaim your fate, That reflecting ere too late, How when youthful years are gone, Hoary ills come -hasting on, Ye may stoop your pride of soul, Holding earth in strong control, Deeming that the world contains None deserving of your chains. Bend ye then to Reason’s sway, Go where Pity points the way; While with wing unflagging I Keep my course eternally. . TRANSLATIONS, 307 Days and nights, and years, and ye, My swift-winged family, Whom the All-creating Hand Framed ere earth diselfrwas plann’d,— Up, and still untiring hold Your triumphant course of old ; And still your rapid cars be driven O’er the boundless paths of heaven. ANONYMOUS, ODE TO THE FOUNTAIN OF VALCHIUSA. FROM THE ITALIAN OF PETRARCH, YE clear and sparkling streams! (Warm’d by the sunny beams) Through whose transparent crystal Laura play’d ; Ye boughs, that deck the grove, Where Spring her chaplets wove, While Laura lay beneath the quivering shade ; Sweet herbs! and blushing flowers! That crown yon vernal bowers, For ever fatal, yet for ever dear: And ye, that heard my sighs When first she charm’d my eyes, Soft-breathing gales! my dying accents hear. If Heaven has fix’d my doom, That Love must quite consume My bursting heart, and close my eyes in death ; Ah! grant this slight request— That here my urn may rest, When to its mansion flies my vital breath. 308 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XII. This pleasing hope will smooth My anxious mind, and soothe The pangs of that inevitable hour ; My spirit will not grieve Her mortal veil to leave In these calm shades, and this enchanting bower. Haply the guilty maid, Through yon accustomed glade, To my sad tomb will take her lonely way; Where first her beauty’s light O’erpower’d my dazzled sight, When love on this fair border bade me stray. There, sorrowing, shall she see Beneath an aged tree, Her true but hapless lover’s lowly bier ; Too late her tender sighs Shall melt the pitying skies, And her soft veil shall hide the gushing tear. O well remember’d day, When on yon bank she lay, Meek in her pride and in her rigour mild; The young and blooming flowers, Falling in fragrant showers, Shone on her neck and on her bosom smiled: Some on her mantle hung, Some in her locks were strung, Like orient gems in rings of flaming gold ; Some, in a spicy cloud Descending, call’d aloud, ‘Here Love and Youth the reins of empire hold.’ TRANSLATIONS. 309 I view’d the heavenly maid; And, rapt in wonder, said— ‘The groves of Eden gave this angel birth ;’ Her look, her voice, her smile, That might all heaven beguile, Wafted my soul above the realms of earth: The star-bespangled skies Were open’d to my eyes; Sighing, Isaid, ‘Whence rose this glittering scene ?’ Since that auspicious hour, This bank and odorous bower My morning couch and evening haunt have been. Well mayst thou blush, my song, To leave the rural throng, And fly thus artless to my Laura’s ear; But were thy poet’s fire Ardent as his desire, Thou wert a song that Heaven might stoop to hear. SIR W. JONES, CANZONET. FROM THE ITALIAN OF FRANCESCO DEL TEGLIA. ON A NOSEGAY OF JONQUILLES IN THE BOSOM OF HIS MISTRESS, Fiowers of the sun, whose parent care Your golden lustre has bestow’d, O, say did Cupid place you there To guard from harm his loved abode? If so, watch well her gentle heart, The approach of cold disdain repel; Nor let soft pity e’er depart The shrine where she delights to dwell. 310 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XIl. Beam forth, while in that bosom worn, The brightest gems of all the field; Those which Aurora’s brows adorn, To your transcendent glow must yield. Nature, when she endow’d my fair, From each gay flower some sweetness drew ; She gave to Sylvia’s waving hair Your fragrance and your golden hue. Ah see! she smiles to view your bloom (As heaves her snowy breast the while) ; Waft grateful then your glad perfume, Bless’d flowers! for ’tis an angel’s smile. Reviving in her balmy breath, Sunn’d by the radiance of her eye, There flourish long, nor fear your death— Such death ’tis even bliss to die, Tell her, when other charms expire, Your orient tints remain the same ; And say, surviving life’s last fire, That thus shall live her lover’s flame. ANONYMOUS, THE SMILE. FROM THE ITALIAN OF CHIABRERA. BEAUTEOUS roses, not with morn From the thorn Scattering sweet but transient pleasures ; You whom, round the lips display’d, Love has made Guardians of his pearly treasures! TRANSLATIONS. — 311 Dear to Love, sweet roses! tell, If I dwell Fondly those bright eyes beholding, As I gaze, and gazing sigh, Tell me why You expand in smiles unfolding ? Conscious I could ill sustain Your disdain, Seek you thus my life to cherish ? Is it that you feel delight © In the sight Of the pangs by which I perish? Beauteous roses, be your joy To destroy Or to save, since thus you show it, Still will I in novel lays Sing your praise, But oh smile upon your poet! If, at dayspring, as we pass Through the grass, ; Murmur rills and whisper breezes ; If, with flowers the mead looks gay, Soothed we say, How the smiling landscape pleases! When his foot blithe Zephyr laves In the waves, That with gently-gliding motion Hardly rippling on the sand, Kiss the strand ; See we cry, how smiles old Ocean! Veil’d in gold, and round her hair Lilies there, 312 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp. XII. Here each blushing blossom piling, If, on wheels of sapphire drawn, Mounts the dawn ; Lo! we say, the sky how smiling ! True, in mighty Nature’s mirth, Heaven and Earth Deck with smiles their jocund faces : True, they smile; but smiling so Cannot show Half your soul-enchanting graces! F, LAURENCE. THE FROWN. FROM THE ITALIAN OF CHIABRERA. WHEN, with soft and winning air Comes my fair, By her guard of Loves surrounded ; And a smile, benignly bright, Beams delight On the heart which they have wounded ; Such the charms which she displays, All who gaze Wish her ever thus alluring ; Nor again dare hope to meet Sight so sweet, Spite of Love himself assuring. But the pearls, whose lucid hue Wonder drew, If in serious mood she clones 3 And the look, that gaily glanced, As entranced In reflected thought, composes ; TRANSLATIONS, Suddenly behold we now On her brow Pride enthroned in awful beauty. Pride? ah no!—but where, my Muse, Wilt thou choose Words to satisfy thy duty? When abroad on orient wings Eurus springs O’er the summer seas to revel; And his feet in rapid race Print their trace, Where he skims the watery level; Curling waves with murmuring sound Foam around : Yet no storm of wrath collected Speaks that sound; the sign but shows, Ocean knows How to make his power respected ! Thus we on that brow discern, Sweetly stern, Terrors which no pain occasion : *Tis not anger that is shown ; Tis alone Beauty daunting bold invasion ; And that gentle look severe Charms endear So transporting to the lover, Not. one thought he more employs On the joys Which her beauteous smiles discover ! 313 F. LAURENCE. VOL, VI, 55S 314 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. SONG. FROM THE ITALIAN, YIELD to the spheres that witching strain That from their orbs has roll’d ; To eastern climes return again Their fragrance, pearls, and gold. Be to the sun that lustre given, © Thou borrow’st from his flame: And render back thy smile to heaven From whence its sweetness came. Owe to the morn that blush no more, That from her cheek has flown; To seraph bands their truth restore, Her chasteness to the moon. What then shall of the charms remain, Which thou canst call thine own, Except the anger and disdain, That turn thy slave to stone ? ANONYMOUS. SONNET. FROM THE ITALIAN OF MOZARELLO. | Yer gales that gently fan the smiling sky, [dews, And stealing from the flowers their fragrant With wiles of wanton blandishment, diffuse The gather’d shower of odours as ye fly! Ye verdant vales, and streams that murmur by; TRANSLATIONS. 315 Fit haunts which amorous sorrow well might choose ; Who bad your conscious echoes to my Muse Each whisper’d hope, each flatter’d fear reply! Those conscious echoes I no more to tales Of woe shall wake ; since o’er my manlier mind Firm Reason holds again her calm control: Yet though no more, to lonely grief resign’d, I wander here to weep, not less my soul This cool, this murmur loves, these verdant vales ! F, LAURENCE. SONNET. FROM THE ITALIAN OF GIAMBATTISTA COTTA, I saw the’ eternal God, in robes of light, Rise from his throne :—to judgment forth he : came; His presence pass’d before me like the flame That fires the forest in the depth of night. Whirlwind and storm, and horror and affright Compass’d his path, and shook creation’s frame, When from the heaven of heavens, with awful aim, To earth he wing’d his instantaneous flight. As some triumphal oak, whose boughs have shed Theirchanging foliage through a thousand years, Stoops to the rushing wind its glorious head, The universal arch of yonder spheres Bow’d with the pressure of its Maker’s tread, And earth’s foundations quaked with mortal fears. MONTGOMERY. 316 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp. Xil: SONNET. FROM THE ITALIAN OF FILICAJA, As some fond mother views her infant race, With tender love o’erflowing while she sees ; She kisses one, one clasps in her embrace, Her feet supporting one, and one her knees ; Then, as the winning gesture, speaking face, Or plaintive cry, explain their different pleas, A look, a word, she deals with various grace, And smiles, or frowns, as Love alone decrees. O’er man, frail kind, so Providence divine Still watches ; hears, sustains, and succours all, With equal eye beholding each that lives. If Heaven denies, ah! let not man repine ! Heayen but denies to quicken duty’s call, Or feigning to deny, more largely gives! F, LAURENCE: ENDYMION SLEEPING. FROM THE ITALIAN OF TASSONI. TIRED with long toil Endymion lay reposed Where herbs and flowers an odorous couch com- posed: [play, And while the freshening breeze, with amorous Fann’d the fierce beam and burning heat of day, There the light Loves, a duteous band, descend, Loose the full quiver and the bow unbend ; For from those eyes so closed, that form so fair, Cupid himself, they deem’d, their god lay there. TRANSLATIONS. 317 Spread to the gale, by every zephyr blown, Dark o’er his cheeks his burnish’d locks were thrown ; [place, The’ obsequious Loves those straggling locks re- That oft returning veil’d his heavenly face: From the fresh flowers that thickly grew beneath, Chaplets they wove, and many a fragrant wreath, Sweet garlands to adorn that form design’d, And with fantastic folds each beauteous limb to bind. Oft to his lips would the disporting crew Compare the piony’s vermilion hue; Oft to his cheek the rose and lily’s bloom— But pion, rose, and lily were o’ercome !— The winds and waves were hush’d in dead repose, And not a whisper on the plain arose : ; Earth, water, air, accordant all confess’d, And silent seem’d to say, the God of Love’s atrest. ANONYMOUS. TO SLEEP. FROM THE ITALIAN OF FRACASTORO. Wirtu the pale poppy’s nodding flower These sable violets I braid, And for my fair, who asks thine aid, Thy healing balm, O Sleep, implore ! For ah! her bright eyes fade by grief oppress’d, And thou alone, O Sleep, canst charm her cares to rest. Soft-soothing Sleep, secure relief Of every labour, every grief; 318 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp. XIl. Repose of all the peopled earth ; To thee, in Lethe’s shades, gave birth The Night, and taught thee how to bless Mortals with long forgetfulness. Thy wings of shadowy gloom diffuse On all around their balmy dews, And fan to peace and bland repose The haggard family of woes. Calm on old Ocean’s placid breast, Thou soothest the finny train to rest; And deep amidst the forest glade Still’st the wild tenants of the shade ; All nature feels thy fostering care, All own thy bounteous gifts—all but my drooping fair ! ROSCOE. EPIGRAM. FROM THE ITALIAN OF PANANTI. Is beauty to thine outward form denied? Let virtue’s graceful veil its absence hide: As Cesar wreathed the laurel round his brow, And hid the baldness of his head below. G. M. CANZONETS, BY VALLONI, FROM THE SICILIAN DIALECT. SWEET is the peach’s purple bloom, And grateful its ambrosial rind, And sweet as is the rare perfume The rich delicious fruit we find ; TRANSLATIONS, 319 But in the midst a stone there lies, And bitter will the kernel prove ; My coldness thus my heart belies, And throbs with all the pangs of love. I DREAMT, my fair, that thou and I Were dead, and doom’d to lasting pain; I for my love, that soar’d so high, Thou punish’d for thy cold disdain. But when thou met’st me all in woe, It changed to joy thy hapless lot ; And when that lovely face I saw, The pains of hell were all forgot. j ROSCOE. SONG. FROM THE SPANISH, Fair eyes! be not so proudly gay In these your golden years: The smile that gilds the cheek to-day, To-morrow turns to tears. My love, thou knowest not, thou art So used to victories, How heavy on a loyer’s heart His love’s unkindness lies. Soon will thy coldness waste away My few remaining years, And thou, when I have pass’d away, Mayst yet lament in tears, 320 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. Thou art so strong in loveliness, So bright with beauty’s arms, Thy haughty coldness is not less Than thy resplendent charms. Yet think, ere death at rest shall lay My sorrows and my fears, That thou, when I am gone for aye, Mayst yet lament in tears. Thy mirthful mood shall change when thou Shalt with sad eye discover The death, alas! not distant now Of thy too faithful lover. Then shall the cold disdain give way, That in thine eyes appears; Fair eyes! although in smiles ye slay, Ye shall repent in tears. More deep, more bitter grows my care, As grows thy cruelty; My sighs are scatter’d on the air, My hopes decay and die. And can thy cheek be calmly gay While mine such sadness wears ? And canst thou bid me die to day, To wail that death with tears? ANONYMOUS. TRANSLATIONS. 321 ODE. FROM THE SPANISH OF LUIS DE LEON. WHILE on bright Tago’s banks reclined, And all to love’s soft joys resign’d, Rodrigo * panted on fair Caba’s breast, Sudden, a seer of future woes, The river’s awful god arose, And thus with boding groans the fearless chief address’d— ‘ In vain, while horrors round thee rise, Thy arms enfold their ravish’d prize, The prize so fatal to thy princely line : Soon shall the Moor, so fate has said, Avenge the violated maid, And wrest Iberia’s throne from Odin’s race divine. ‘ In vain, with Gothic pride elate, To suit thy shadowy dream of state, | Corduba rears her gilded roof on high: No child of thine in years to come Shall revel in the gorgeous dome: Its alter’d echoes now to barbarous tongues reply. ‘ On Calpe’s rocks with threatening hand I see the injured father stand, All torn his beard, and rent his hoary hair : See, now he points to Libya’s coast, Now hails aloud the turban’d host, And waves his purple flag of vengeance in the air. * Don Rodrigo, the last of the Gothic kings of Spain, having offered violence to Caba, the daughter of Count Julian, that nobleman brought over the Saracens from Africa, who defeated hi in battle, and made themselves masters of his king- om. VOL. VI. TT 322 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XIl. ‘ With oars, that sparkle to the sun, Swift o’er the level waves they run, Their broad sails whiten on the crowded main ; And now their clashing arms I hear, The trumpet’s clang invades my ear, _ [plain. Loud neigh the fiery steeds, and paw the rattling ‘ With Ceuta’s race, renown’d in fight, Fierce Barca’s swarthy sons unite ; Tunis her mooned ensigns wide displays ; With flaming scimitar and shield Morocco’s squadrons shake the field, On Alla’s name they call, and shout the prophet’s praise. ‘ O’er her rich'meads with lifted lance Fair Betis sees their ranks advance, Proud Seville hears, Granada shakes with dread, And Douro listens to the roar, Ill fated Minho foams with gore, [dead. And distant Ebro groans with mountains of the ‘ To arms, great chief, to arms with speed ! Let the sword rage, the battle bleed! [far ? Kenn’st thou not yet the’ approaching storm from Bid, bid thy knights their falchions wave, Nor thou be slow the day to save, But like a comet blaze in the dark van of war! ‘ Yet ah! in vain: nor spear nor spell The ruthless Saracen can quell, That crush’d stern Afric with his iron yoke : He, safely sheath’d in ribs of mail, Defies thy sharpest arrowy hail, Laughs at the javelin’s hiss, and mocks the sabre’s stroke. TRANSLATIONS. ~ 323 ‘ Five bloody suns with headlong rage Each host an equal war shall wage, Each see by turns his doubtful scale ascend ; The sixth shall view thy flight forlorn, Thy shatter’d arms, thy banners torn, While Spain’s proud neck beneath the victor’s heel shall bend.’ RUSSELL. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. FROM THE SPANISH OF LOPE DE VEGA. LET no one say that there is need Of time for love to grow; Ah no! the love that kills indeed Dispatches at a blow. The spark which but by slow degrees Is nursed into a flame, Is habit, friendship, what you please; But love is not its name. For love to be completely true, It death at sight should deal, Should be the first one ever knew, In short, be that I feel. To write, to sigh, and to converse, For years to play the fool; Tis to put passion out to nurse, And send one’s heart to school. Love all at once should from the earth Start up full grown and tall; If not an Adam at his birth, He is no love at all. : LORD HOLLAND. 324 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. ZARA’S EARRINGS. FROM THE SPANISH. My earrings! my earrings! they’ve dropp’d into the well, And what to say to Muca, I cannot, cannot tell— ’Twas thus Granada’s fountain by, spoke Albu- harez’ daughter, [blue water— The wellis deep, far down they lie beneath the cold To me did Muca give them, when he spake his sad farewell, [cannot tell. And what to say when he comes back, alas! I My earrings! my earrings! they were pearls in silver set, [him forget; That when my Moor was far away I ne’er should That I ne’er to other tongue should list, nor smile on other’s tale ; [earrings pale— Butremember he my lips had kiss’d, pure as those When he comes back and hears that Ihave dropp’d them in the well— [tell. Oh, what will Muca think of me, I cannot, cannot My earrings! my earrings! he’ll say they should have been, [ing sheen; Not of pearl and of silver, but of gold and glitter- Of jasper and of onyx, and of diamond shining clear, [insincere— Changing to the changing light, with radiance That changing mind unchanging gems are not be- fitting well— [not tell, Thus will he think—and what to say, alas! I can- He'll think when I to market went, I loiter’d by the way— [might say— He’ll think a willing ear I lent to all the lads TRANSLATIONS. 325 He’ll think some other lover’s hand, among my tresses noosed, [of pearl unloosed— From the ears where he had placed them, my rings He’ll think when I was sporting so beside this marble well [not tell. My pearls fell in,—and what to say, alas! I can- He’ll say I am a woman, and weare all the same— ‘He’ll say I loved when he was here to whisper of his flame— But when he went to Tunis, my virgin troth had broken, [his token. And thought no more of Muca, and cared not for My earrings! my earrings! oh! luckless, luckless well! For what to say to Muca, alas! I cannot tell. I'll tell the truth to Muca, and I hope he will believe, [him at eve ; That I thought of him at morning, and thought of Thus musing on my lover, when down the sun was gone, [all alone ; His earrings in my hand I held, by the fountain And that my mind was o’er the sea, when from my hand they fell; And that deep his love lies in my heart as they lie in the well. LOCKHART. ROMANCE. FROM THE SPANISH, AWAKE, sweet life, awake ! See the bright morning break! Busy footsteps, hurrying by, Tell that now the sun is high; 26 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, P. XII. Borne on wings of purest white, The morning spreads its fullest light. Sore thou fear’st, and sore I fear, Prying strangers roaming near May divulge the rumour free, How thee I love, and thou lovest me. Awake, sweet life, awake ! See the bright morning break ! If the rising sun destroy Dewy pearls, the meadow’s joy, From my side it hastes to tear A gem, that shines more bright and fair: Beams, that bring to mortals light, Show to me like blackest night; When the dawn’s first blushes glow, Thine absence spreads the gloom of woe. Awake, sweet life, awake ! See the bright morning break! Wouldst thou root the present bliss Springing from each secret kiss, Firm, that envious gales which blow May not our budding joys o’erthrow ? Wouldst thou, love, we thus should meet Oft in this secure retreat, Where at sight we pay so free What thee I owe, and thou owest me? Awake, sweet life, awake! See the bright morning break! Take those circling arms away! Linger not with fond delay! One dear moment of delight May rouse misfortune’s bitter spite. Short I deem the day of grief, When the night brings quick relief, De ye Pee TRANSLATIONS. | 327 And the hope of coming pleasure Steals from sorrow half its measure. Awake, sweet life, awake ! See the bright morning break! HON. W. HERBERT. ‘ LINES. FROM THE SPANISH OF BARTOLOME LEONARDO. As the deep river swift and silent flows Towards the ocean, I am borne adown The quiet tide of time. Nought now remains Of the past years; and for the years to come, Their dark and undiscoverable deeds Elude the mortal eye. Beholding thus How daily life wanes on, so may’ I learn, Not with an unprovided mind, to meet That hour, when Death shall gather up the old And wither’d plant, whose season is gone by. The spring flowers fade, the’ autumnal fruits decay, And gray old Winter, with his clouds and storms, Comes on; the leaves, whose calm cool murmuring Made pleasant music to our green-wood walks, Now rustle dry béneath our sinking feet. » So all things rise and perish ; we the while Do, with a dull and profitless eye, behold All this, and think not of our latter end. My friend! we will not let that soil, which oft Impregnate with the rains and dews of heaven, Is barren still and stubborn to the plough, Emblem our thankless hearts; nor of our God Forgetful be, as is the thankless vine, That in due season brings not forth its fruits. Think’st thou, that God created man alone 328 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XII. To wander o’er the world and ocean waste, Or for the blasting thunderbolt of war? Was this his being’s end? Oh! how he errs, Who of his godlike nature and his God Thus poorly, basely, blasphemously deems! For higher actions, and for loftier ends, Our better part, the deathless and divine, Was formed. The fire that animates my breast May not be quench’d, and when that breast is cold, The unextinguishable fire shall burn With brighter splendour: till that hour arrive, Obedient to my better part, my friend, Be it my lot to live, and through the world, Careless of human praise, pass quietly. The Eastern despot, he whose silver towers Shot back a rival radiance to the sun, He was too poor for Sin’s extravagance ; But Virtue, like the air and light of Heaven, To all accessible, at every heart Entreats admittance. Wretched fool is he Who, through the perils of the earth and waves, Toils on for wealth! A little peaceful home Bounds all my wants and wishes, add to this My book and friend, and this is happiness. > eb # CANZON. FROM THE SPANISH OF €AMOENS, O, WEEP not thus—we both shall know Ere long a happier doom; There is a place of rest below, Where thou and I shall surely go, And sweetly sleep, released from woe, Within the tomb. TRANSLATIONS. 329 My cradle was the couch of Care, And Sorrow rock’d me in it; Fate seem’d her saddest robe to wear On the first day that saw me there, And darkly shadow’d with despair My earliest minute. E’en then the griefs I now possess, As natal boons were given ; And the fair form of Happiness, Which hover’d round, intent to bless, Scared by the phantoms of distress, Flew back to heaven! For I was made in Joy’s despite, And meant for Misery’s slave ; And all my hours of brief delight Fled, like the speedy winds of night, Which soon shall wheel their sullen flight Across my grave! LORD STRANGFORD, ODE TO INES DE GUETE. FROM THE SPANISH OF RIACHAELO *, DEAREST, wouldst thou but believe A heart that knows not to deceive, Alas, nor longer free : That faithful heart should truly tell The secret charm, the tender spell, That bound it first to thee! * The best account of Riachaelo and his far-famed mistress js to be found in the second edition of his works, printed at Madrid, in 4to. 1601, page 22—37. VOL. VI. UU 330 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, PY xT ’Tis not, that cradled in thine eyes The baby Love for ever lies On couches dipp’d in dew. ’Tis not because those eyes have won Their temper’d light from April’s sun, From heaven—their tints of blue! °Tis not that o’er a bank of snow Thy parted tresses lightly flow In bands of braided gold; Nor yet because the hand of Grace Has form’d that dear enchanting face In Beauty’s happier mould. No—dearest, no—but, from my soul, It was a little smile that stole The cherish’d sweets of rest. And ever since, from morn till night, That little smile still haunts my sight, In dimples gaily dress’d. © E’en now, by Fancy’s eyes, are seen The polish’d rows that break between Two lips that breathe of May. E’en now—but oh—by Passion taught, Young Fancy forms too bold a thought For timid love to say. Yet, dearest, wouldst thou but believe A heart that knows not to deceive, Alas, nor longer free; *Twould tell thee thou couldst ne’er impart A smile of thine to cheer a heart More truly bound to thee! oe es TRANSLATIONS. 331 *T would beg, with a beseeching sigh, One glance from Pity’s meaning eye Its every pang to pay. ’T would hint, perchance, at happier hours, When Hope may strew her fairy flowers O’er Life’s bewildered way. Yet—should my days in sorrow flow, Nor Fortune’s loitering hand bestow A single boon to me, The frowns of Care I’d bravely meet, And never deem my woes complete Till banish’d far from thee! LORD STRANGFORD. SONNET. FROM THE SPANISH OF BARTOLOME LEONARDO. PARENT of good! since all thy laws are just, Say, why permits thy judging providence Oppression’s hand to bow meek innocence, And gives prevailing strength to fraud and lust? Who steels with stubborn force the arm unjust, That proudly wars against Omnipotence ? Who bids thy faithful sons, that reverence Thine holy will, be humbled in the dust? Amid the din of joy fair Virtue sighs, While the fierce conqueror binds his impious head With laurel, and the car of triumph rolls! [eyes Thus I;—when radiant fore my wondering A heavenly spirit stood, and smiling said— ‘Blind mordalist, is earth the sphere of souls? HON, W. HERBERT. 332 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XII. SONNETS FROM THE SPANISH. THE sun has chased away the early shower, And now upon the mountain’s clearer height Pours o’er the clouds, aslant, his glowing light. The husbandman, loathing the idle hour, Starts to his rest, and to his daily toil Light-hearted man goes forth ; and patient now As the slow ox drags on the heavy plough, With the young harvest fills the reeking soil. Domestic love his due return awaits, | [cates ; With the clean board bespread with country And clustering round his knee his children press ; His days are pleasant, and his nights secure. Oh cities! haunts of power and wretchedness, Who would your busy vanities endure ? LUPERCIO. Paws ZEPHYR returns, and sheds with liberal hand Foliage and buds around and odorous flowers ; Nurses the purple rose with dewy showers, Gilds the bright sky, and clothes the verdant land ; The stream flows clear, by temperate breezes fann’d, And sweetly sing the birds in shady bowers, Cheerless and mute while angry winter lours, Now blithely ringing with the feather’d band. Never, O ruthless Time, implored in vain, Beams forth thy spring to my unalter’d fate, Nor decks my wither’d hopes with bloom again! Some fondly dread the changes of thy state, Who hold the treasure which they strove to gain; I mourn thy steadfast unrelenting hate. QUEVEDO. HON. W. HERBERT. TRANSLATIONS. 333 To go, and yet to linger on the way ; To linger, and look back, and yet to go; To hear a siren’s pleasant voice, and know The winds of Fortune waft you far away; To build gay fabrics in the baseless air ; Like Lucifer, to fall precipitate [state ; From heaven’s high bliss even to a demon’s To sink despairing, nor regret despair ; From Friendship’s voice affectionate to fly ; Wildly to rove, and talk in solitude; To think each passing hour eternity ; All ill expecting, nor to hope for good; And all the hell of jealousy to prove, Is to be absent from the maid we love. LOPE DE VEGA. aah As when the mother, weak in tenderness, Hears her sick child with prayers and tears implore Some seeming good, that makes his pain the less, Yet, with short ease! the future evil more ; Even as her fondness yields to his vain will She hastes to gratify her sickly son— Anticipating then the coming ill, Sadly she sits, and weeps what she has done :— Thus have I pamper’d my distemper’d mind, And yielded thus to Fancy’s wayward mood. Poor dupe of Fancy! self-condemn’d to find The future anguish in the present good.— Thus do I waste a wretched life away, And nightly weep the errors of the day, GARCILASO DE LA VEGA, ae gs 334 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp. XU. THE SPIRIT OF THE CAPE. FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF CAMOENS. Now prosperous gales the bending canvass swell’d; From these rude shores our fearless course we held: Beneath the glistening wave the god of day Had now five times withdrawn the parting ray, When o’er the prow a sudden darkness spread, And slowly floating o’er the mast’s tall head A black cloud hover’d: nor appear’d from far Themoon’s pale glimpse,nor faintly twinkling star; So deep a gloom the louring vapour cast, Transfix’d with awe the bravest stood aghast. Meanwhile a hollow bursting rear resounds, As when hoarse surges lash their rocky mounds; Nor had the blackening wave nor frowning heaven The wonted signs of gathering tempest given. Amazed we stood—‘ O thou, our fortune’s guide, Avert this omen, mighty God,’ I cried ; ‘ Or through forbidden climes adventurous stray’d, Have we the secrets of the deep survey’d, Which these wide solitudes of sea and sky Were doom’d to hide from man’s unhallow’d eye? Whate’er this prodigy, it threatens more Than midnight tempests and the mingled roar, When sea and sky combine to rock the marble shore.’ I spoke, when rising through the darken’d air, Appall’d we saw a hideous phantom glare : High and enormous o’er the flood he tower’d, And thwart our way with sullen aspect lour’d: An earthly paleness o’er his cheeks was spread, Erect uprose his hairs of wither’d red; ; ee -TRANSLATIONS. — 335 Writhing to speak, his sable lips disclose, Sharp and disjoin’d, his gnashing teeth’s blue rows; His haggard beard flow’d quivering on the wind, Revenge and horror in his mien combined ; His clouded front, by withering lightnings scarred, The inward anguish of his soal declared. His red eyes glowing from their dusky caves Shot livid fires: far echoing o’er the waves His voice resounded, as the cavern’d shore With hollow groan repeats the tempest’s roar. Cold gliding horrors thrill’d each hero's breast, Our bristling hair and tottering knees confess’d Wild dread; the while with visage ghastly wan, His black lips trembling, thus the fend began: ‘ O you, the boldest of the nations, fired By daring pride, by lust of fame inspired, Who, scornful of the bowers of sweet repose, Through these my waves advance your fearless prows, Regardless of the lengthening watery way, And all the storms that own my sovereign sway, Who mid surrounding rocks and shelves explore Where never hero braved my rage before ; Ye sons of Lusus, who with eyes profane Have view’d the secrets of my awful reign, Have pass’d the bounds which jealous Nature drew To veil her secret shrine from mortal view ; Hear from my lips what direful woes attend, And bursting soon shall o’er your race descend. ‘ With every bounding keel that dares my rage, Eternal war my rocks and storms shall wage. The next proud fleet that through my drear domain With daring search shall hoist the streaming vane, That gallant navy, by my whiriwinds toss’d, And raging seas, shall perish on my coast : 336 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XI. Then he who first my secret reign descried, A naked corse wide floating o’er the tide Shall drive—Unless my heart’s full raptures fail, » | O Lusus! oft shalt thou thy children wail; Each year thy shipwreck’d sons shalt thou deplore, Each year thy sheeted masts shall strew my shore. ‘ With trophies plumed behold a hero come, Ye dreary wilds, prepare his yawning tomb. Though smiling fortune bless his youthful morn, Though glory’s rays his laurel’d brows adorn, Full oft though he beheld with sparkling eye The Turkish moons in wild confusion fly, While he, proud victor, thunder’d in the rear, All, all his mighty fame shall vanish here. Quiloa’s sons, and thine, Mombaze, shall see Their conqueror bend his laurel’d head to me; While, proudly mingling with the tempest’s sound, Their shouts of joy from every cliff rebound. ‘ The howling blast, ye slumbering storms pre- A youthful lover, and his beauteous fair, [pare, Triumphant sail from India’s ravaged land ; His evil angel leads him to my strand. Through the torn hulk the dashing wavesshallroar, The shatter’d wrecks shall blacken all my shore. Themselves escaped, despoil’d by savage hands, Shall naked wander o’er the burning sands, , Spared by the waves far deeper woes to bear, Woes e’en by me acknowledged with a tear. Their infant race, the promised heirs of joy, Shall now no more a hundred hands employ; “By cruel want, beneath the parents’ eye, In these wide wastes their infant race shall die. Through dreary wilds where never pilgrim trod, Where caverns yawn, and rocky fragments nod, TRANSLATIONS. 337 The hapless lover and his bride shall stray, By night unshelter’d, and forlorn by day. In vain the lover o’er the trackless plain Shall dart his eyes, and cheer his spouse in vain. Her tender limbs, and breast of mountain snow, Where ne’er before intruding blast might blow, Parch’d by the sun, and shrivel’d by the cold Of dewy night, shall he, fond man, behold. Thus wandering wide, a thousand ills o’erpast, In fond embraces they shall sink at last; While pitying tears their dying eyes o’erflow, And the last sigh shall wail each other’s woe. ‘Some few, the sad companions of their fate, Shall yet survive, protected by my hate, On Tagus’ banks the dismal tale to tell, How, blasted by my frown, your heroes fell.’ He ‘paused, in act still further to disclose A long, a dreary prophecy of woes: When, springing onward, loud my voice resounds, And midst his rage the threatening shade con- founds: ‘What art thou, horrid form, that ridest the air? By Heaven's eternal light, stern fiend, declare.’ His lips he writhes, his eyes far round he throws, And from his breast deep hollow groans arose ; Sternly askance he stood: with wounded pride And anguish torn, ‘ In me, behold,’ he cried, While dark red sparkles from his eyeballs roll’d, ‘ In me the spirit of the Cape behold, That rock by you the Cape of Tempests named, By Neptune’s rage in horrid earthquakes framed, * When Jove’s red bolts o’er Titan’s offspring flamed. With wide-stretch’d piles I guard the pathless strand, And Afric’s southern mound unmoved I stand: VOL. VI. naps 338 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XII. Nor Roman prow nor daring Tyrian oar E’er dash’d the white wave foaming to my shore ; Nor Greece nor Carthage ever spread the sail On these my seas to catch the trading gale. You, you alone have dared to plough my main, And with the human voice disturb my lonesome reign,’ He spoke, and deep a lengthen’d sigh he drew, A doleful sound, and vanish’d from the view: The frighten’d billows gave a rolling swell, And distant far prolong’d the dismal yell; Faint and more faint the howling echoes die, And the black cloud dispersing leaves the sky. High to the angel host, whose guardian care Had ever round us watch’d, my hands [I rear, And Heaven’s dread king implore, as o’er our head The fiend, dissolved, an empty shadow fled; So may his curses by the winds of Heaven Far o’er the deep, their idle sport, be driven! MICKLE, THE ISLE OF LOVE. FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF CAMOENS. As now triumphant to their native shore Through the wide deep the joyful navy bore, Earnest the pilot’s eyes sought cape or bay, For long was yet the various watery way; Sought cape or isle from whence their boats might bring The healthful bounty of the crystal spring; When sudden, all in Nature’s pride array’d, The Isle of Love its glowing breast display’ d. , : . : a TRANSLATIONS. 339 O’er the green bosom of the dewy lawn Soft blazing flow’d the silver of the dawn, The gentle waves the glowing lustre share, Arabia’s balm was sprinkled o’er the air. Before the fleet, to catch the heroes’ view, The floating isle fair Acidalia drew ; Soon as the floating verdure caught their sight, She fix’d, unmoved, the island of delight. So when in childbirth of her Jove-sprung load, The silvan goddess and the bowyer god, In friendly pity of Latona’s woes, Amid the waves the Delian isle arose. And now led smoothly o’er the furrow’d tide, Right to the Isle of Joy the vessels glide: The bay they enter, where on every hand Around them clasps the flower-enamel’d land ; A safe retreat, where not a blast may shake Its fluttering pinions o’er the stilly lake. With purple shells, transfused as marble veins, The yellow sands celestial Venus stains. With graceful pride three hills of softest green Rear their fair bosoms o’er the silvan scene : Their sides embroider’d boast the rich array Of flowery shrubs in all the pride of May; The purple lotos and the snowy thorn, And yellow pod-flowers every slope adorn, From the green summits of the leafy hills Descend with murmuring lapse three limpid rills ; Beneath the rose-trees loitering slow they glide, Now tumbles o’er some rock their crystal pride; Sonorous now they roll adown the glade, Now plaintive tinkle in the secret shade, Now from the darkling grove, beneath the beam Of ruddy morn, like melted silver, stream, 340 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. Xl. Edging the painted margins of the bowers, _ And breathing liquid freshness on the flowers. Here bright reflected in the pool below The vermil apples tremble on the bough; Where o’er the yellow sands the waters sleep, The primrosed banks, inverted, dewdrops weep ; F Where murmuring o’erthe pebblespurlsthestream _ The silver trouts in playful curvings gleam. Long thus and various every rivulet strays, Till closing now their long meandering maze, Where in a smiling vale the mountains end, Form’d in a crystal lake the waters blend: Fringed was the border with a woodland shade, In every leaf of various green array’d, Each yellow tinged, each mingling tint between The dark ash verdure and the silvery green. The trees now bending forward slowly shake Their lofty honours o’er the crystal lake ; Now from the flood the graceful boughs retire With coy reserve, and now again admire Their various liveries by the summer dress’d, Smooth-gloss’d and soften’d in the mirror’s breast. So by her glass the wishful virgin stays, And oft retiring steals the lingering gaze. A thousand boughs aloft to heaven display Their fragrant apples shining to the day ; The orange here perfumes the buxom air, And boasts the golden hue of Daphne’s hair, Near to the ground each spreading bough descends, Beneath her yellow load the citron bends ; The fragrant lemon scents the cooling grove ; Fair as when ripening for the days of love The virgin’s breasts the gentle swell avow, So the twin fruitage swell on every bough. TRANSLATIONS. 341 Wild forest trees the mountain sides array’d With curling foliage and romantic shade : Here spreads the poplar, to Alcides dear ; And dear to Phoebus, ever verdant here, _ The laurel joins the bowers for ever green, The myrtle bowers beloved of beauty’s queen. To Jove the oak his wide-spread branches rears ; And high to heaven the fragrant cedar bears ; Where through the glades appear the cavern’d rocks, The lofty pine-tree waves her sable locks ; Sacred to Cybele the whispering pine Loves the wild grottoes where the white cliffs shine; Here towers the cypress, preacher to the wise, Lessening from earth her spiral honours rise, Till, as a spear-point rear’d, the topmost spray Points to the Eden of eternal day. Here round her fostering elm the smiling vine In fond embraces gives her arms to twine; The numerous clusters pendent from the boughs, The green here glistens, here the purple glows: For here the genial Seasons of the year Danced hand in hand, no place for Winter here ; His grisly visage from the shore expell’d, United sway the smiling Seasons held. Around the swelling fruits of deepening red, Their snowy hues the fragrant blossoms spread; Between the bursting buds of lucid green » The apple’s ripe vermilion blush is seen; For here each gift Pomona’s hand bestows In cultured garden, free, uncultured flows, The flavour sweeter, and the hue more fair, Than e’er was foster’d by the hand of care. The cherry here in shining crimson glows ; And stain’d with lover’s blood, in pendent rows, 342 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp. Xi. The bending boughs the mulberries o’erload ; The bending boughs caress’d by Zephyr nod. The generous peach, that strengthens in exile Far from his native earth, the Persian soil, The velvet peach of softest glossy blue, Hangs by the pomegranate of orange hue, Whose open heart a brighter red displays Than that which sparkles in the ruby’s blaze. Here, trembling with their weight, the branches Delicious as profuse, the tapering pear. _[ bear, For thee, fair fruit, the songsters of the grove With hungry bills from bower to arbour rove. Ah, if ambitious thou wilt own the care To grace the feast of heroes and the fair, Soft let the leaves with grateful umbrage hide The green-tinged orange of thy mellow side. A thousand flowers of gold, of white and red, Far o’er the shadowy vale their carpets spread, Of fairer tapestry, and of richer bloom, Than ever glow’d in Persia’s boasted loom: As glittering rainbows o’er the verdure thrown, © O’er every woodland walk the’ embroidery shone. Here o’er the watery mirror’s lucid bed Narcissus, self-enamour’d, hangs the head ; And here, bedew’d with love’s celestial tears, The woe-mark’d flower of slain Adonis rears Its purple head, prophetic of the reign When lost Adonis shall revive again. At strife appear the lawns and purpled skies, Which from each other stole the beauteous dyes. The lawn in all Aurora’s lustre glows, Aurora steals the blushes of the rose, The rose displays the blushes that adorn The spotless virgin on the nuptial morn. rio ee a oe ee TRANSLATIONS. 343 Zephyr and Flora emulous conspire To breathe their graces o’er the field’s attire ; The one gives healthful freshness, one the hue, Fairer than e’er creative pencil drew. Pale as the lovesick hopeless maid they dye The modest violet ; from the curious eye The modest violet turns her gentle head, And by the thorn weeps o’er her lowly bed ; Bending beneath the tears of pearly dawn The snow-white lily glitters o’er the lawn; Lo, from the bough reclines the damask rose, And o’er the lily’s milk-white bosom glows ; Fresh in the dew far o’er the painted dales, Each fragrant herb her sweetest scent exhales ; The hyacinth bewrays the doleful Ai, And calls the tribute of Apollo’s sigh ; Still on its bloom the mournful flower retains The lovely blue that dyed the stripling’s veins. Pomona fired with rival envy views The glaring pride of Flora’s darling hues ; Where Flora bids the purple iris spread, She hangs the wilding’s blossom white and red ; Where wild thyme purples, where the daisy snows The curving slopes, the melon’s pride she throws ; Where by the stream the lily of the vale, Primrose, and cowslip meek, perfume the gale, Beneath the lily and the cowslip’s bell The scarlet strawberries luxuriant swell. Nor these alone the teeming Eden yields, Each harmless bestial crops the flowery fields ; And birds of every note and every wing Their loves responsive through the branches sing ; In sweet vibration thrilling o’er the skies, High-poised in air the lark his warbling tries ; 344 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XII. The swan slow sailing o’er the crystal lake Tunes his melodious note ; from every brake The glowing strain the nightingale returns, And in the bowers of love the turtle mourns. Pleased to behold his branching horns appear, O’er the bright fountain bends the fearless deer ; The hare starts trembling from the bushy shade, And, swiftly circling, crosses oft the glade. Where from the rocks the bubbling founts distill, The milkwhite lambs come bleating down the hill; The dappled heifer seeks the vales below, And from the thicket springs the bounding doe. To his loved nest, on fondly fluttering wings, In chirping bill the little songster brings The food untasted; transport thrills his breast ; ’Tis nature’s touch; ’tis instinct’s heavenlike feast. Thus bower and lawn were deck’d with Eden’s flowers, And song and joy imparadised the bowers. MICKLE. ODE. FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF CAMOENS. EvER gliding to the sea Flow the waters fair and free . Of clear Mondego tranquil through the plain: Anxious thoughts and growing care Bound my youthful bosom there, And slowly fixed their ever during reign. Along the pleasant margin green, Where now I mourn the alter’d scene, First did my eyes a nymph behold Brighter than snow, and pure as gold ; ~ TRANSLATIONS. o45 Sweet smiles serene, and grace so well display’d, That from my heart its form will never fade. In this country, deck’d with flowers, Blithely roll’d my peaceful hours, In calm contentment, unalloy’d with sighs : Then I gloried in my cares ; Rapture sweeten’d even the tears Drawn by the beam of those love-darting eyes. Time flowed, nor I its lapse perceived, Long by delusive hope deceived ; I sported in life’s cheerful ray, And dream’d of bliss from day to day. What now avail those joys too quickly flown! Those eyes that with unrival’d lustre shone! Who could then have bade me deem Time would break our pleasant dream, And the deep spell of love at once divide! Or that in this world forlorn I from thee should e’er be torn, From thee, dear lady, from my bosom’s pride! At that dark hour fate’s adverse strife For ever closed my scene of life ; All hope in one sad moment flown, Vain thoughts of bliss for ever gone ; And nothing left, save memory of joy, Which ne’er will quit me, but at length destroy. Still beneath this weight of woe Some fond thoughts of comfort grow, Some cheering rays amid the darkness shine : While in happier hours of youth Love approved our constant truth, [mine ; Thy soul was calm, thy breast ne’er glow’d like VOL. VI. YY 346 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pp. X1T. The fatal hour which bade us part Wounds not alike thy tender heart ; And light to me the pangs I bear, Compared with knowing thy despair: My knell will soon be rung; thou, lady, live, And taste the joys which youth and beauty give! HON. W. HERBERT. STANZAS. FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF CAMOENS. I sAw the virtuous man contend With life’s unnumber’d woes ; And he was poor—without a friend— Press’d by a thousand foes. I saw the Passions’ pliant slave In gallant trim, and gay; His course was Pleasure’s placid wave, His life a summer’s day. And I was caught in Folly’s snare, And join’d her giddy train— But found her soon the nurse of Care, And Punishment, and Pain. There surely is some guiding Power Which rightly suffers wrong— Gives Vice to bloom its little hour— But Virtue, late and long. pallies LORD STRANGFORD. " ‘ 1 | TRANSLATIONS. 347 SONNETS FROM CAMOENS. Waters of Tejo, gentle streams, that flow Through these fair meads, refreshing as ye go Herbage and flowers and flocks, and with delight Soothing the nymphs and shepherds on your shore, I know not, gentle river, when my sight Shall linger on your pleasant waters more. And now I turn me from you, sad at heart, Hopeless that fate my future lot will bless; That evil fate which bids me now depart Converts remember’d joy to wretchedness. The thought of you, dear waters! oft will rise; And Memory oft will see you in her dreams, When I on other airs shall breathe my sighs, And drop far off my tears in other streams. WueEn I behold you, lady! when my eyes Dwell on the deep enjoyment of your sight, I give my spirit to that one delight, And earth appears to me a paradise. And when I hear you speak, and see you smile, Full, satisfied, absorb’d, my centred mind Deems all the world’s vain hopes and joys the As empty as the unsubstantial wind: [while Lady, I feel your charms, yet dare not raise To that high theme, the unequal song of praise, A power for that to language was not given ; Nor marvel I, when I those beauties view, Lady, that he whose power created you Could form the stars and yonder glorious heaven. 348 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XII. MEEX spirit, who so early didst depart, Thou art at rest in heaven! I linger here, And feed the lonely anguish of my heart, Thinking of all that made existence dear, All lost! If in the happy world above, Remembrance of this mortal life endure, Thou wilt not there forget the perfect love Which still thou seest in me, O spirit pure! And if the irremediable grief, The woe which never hopes on earth relief; May merit aught of thee, prefer thy prayer To God, who took thee early to his rest, That it may please him soon amid the bless’d To summon me, dear maid, to meet thee there. SOUTHEY. CANZONETS. FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF CAMOENS. I WHISPER’D her my last adieu, I gave a mournful kiss ; Cold showers of sorrow bathed her eyes, And her poor heart was torn with sighs; Yet—strange to tell—’twas then I knew Most perfect bliss.— For Love, at other times suppress’d, Was all betray’d at this— I saw him weeping in her eyes, I heard him breathe among her sighs, And every sob which shook her breast Thrill’d mine with bliss. TRANSLATIONS. The sight which keen affection clears, How can it judge amiss? To me it pictured hope, and taught My spirit this consoling thought, That Love’s sun, though it rise in tears, May set in bliss. WHEN day has smiled a soft farewell, And nightdrops bathe each shutting bell, And shadows sail along the green, And birds are still, and winds serene, I wander silently. And while my lone step prints the dew, Dear are the dreams that bless my view ! To Memory’s eye the maid appears, For whom have sprung my sweetest tears, So oft, so tenderly: I see her, as with graceful care She binds her braids of sunny hair ; I feel her harp’s melodious thrill Strike to my heart, and thence be still Reechoed“faithfully : I meet her mild and quiet eye, Drink the warm spirit of her sigh, See young Love beating in her breast, And wish to mine its pulses press’d, God knows how fervently ! Such are my hours of dear delight, And morn but makes me long for night, And think how swift the minutes flew, When last among the dropping dew I wander’d silently. 349 350 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, Xt. Tov hast an eye of tender blue, And thou hast locks of Daphne’s hue, And cheeks that shame the morning’s break, And lips that might for redness make Roses seem pale beside them ; But whether soft or sweet as they, Lady, alas! I cannot say, For I have neyer tried them. Yet, thus created for delight, Lady! thou art not lovely quite ; For dost thou not this maxim know, That Prudery is Beauty’s foe, . A stain that mars a jewel! And e’en that woman’s angel face Loses a portion of its grace, If woman’s heart be cruel! Love is a sweet and blooming boy, Yet glowing with the blush of joy, And (still in youth’s delicious prime) Though aged as patriarchal Time, The withering gd despises : Lady! wouldst thou for ever be As fair and young and fresh as he— Do all that Love advises. Tou pride of the forest! whose dark branches spread [green, To the sigh of the south wind their tremulous And the tinge of whose buds is as rich and as red As the mellowing blushes of maiden eighteen! TRANSLATIONS, 351 O’er thee may the tempest in gentleness blow, And the lightnings of summer pass harmlessly by; For ever thy buds keep their mellowing glow, Thy branches still wave to the southernly sigh. Because in thy shade, as I lately reclined, The sweetest of visions arose to my view; ’Twas the swoon of the soul—’twas the transport of mind— °*Twas the happiest minute that ever I knew. For this shalt thou still be my favourite tree,— In the heart of the poet thou never canst fade ; It shall often be warm’d by remembering thee, And the dream which I dreamt in thy tremu- lous shade. LORD STRANGFORD, SONNET. FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF DE MATOS. HiGH in the front of conquering hosts to ride Be yours, ye sons of fortune, sons of fame ! Be yours the triumph of a deathless name, While spoils of vanquish’d nations swell vour pride ! Lift to the breeze your banners streaming wide, While captive nations bend the knee below! Let the fair galley’s lofty gilded prow Shine o’er the dancing billows of the tide! With vaunted chiefs of Greece and mighty Rome Be yours beneath the sacred shade to march, Where palm and laurel form the victor’s arch, While lofty minstrels chant the nations’ doom! But leave to me the conquest of my fair, With her soft azure eyes and auburn hair. DR. LEYDEN. 352 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XU. THE LAY OF THE LITTLE BIRD. FROM A FRENCH FABLIAU. In days of yore, at least a century since, There lived a carle as wealthy as a prince: His name I wot not; but his wide domain Was rich with stream and forest, mead and plain ; To crown the whole, one manor he possess’d, In choice delight so passing all the rest, No castle, burgh, or city might compare With the quaint beauties of that mansion rare. The sooth to say, I fear my words may seem Like some strange fabling or fantastic dream, If, unadvised, the portraiture I trace, And each brave pleasure of that peerless place ; Foreknow ye then, by necromantic might Was raised this paradise of all delight ; A good knight own’d it first; he, bow’d with age, Died, and his son possess’d the heritage : But the lewd stripling, all to riot bent (His chattels quickly wasted and forespent), Was driven to see this patrimony sold To the base carle of whom I lately told. Ye wot right well there only needs be sought One spendthrift heir to bring great wealth to nought. A lofty tower and strong, the building stood Midst a vast plain surrounded by a flood; And hence one pebble-paved channel stray’d, That compass’d in a clustering orchard’s shade : ’Twas a choice charming plat; abundant round Flowers, roses, odorous spices clothed the ground ; Unnumber’d kinds, and all profusely shower’d Such aromatic balsam as they flower’d, TRANSLATIONS. 353 Their fragrance might have stay’d man’s parting breath, And chased the hovering agony of death. The sward one level held, and: close above Tall shapely trees their leafy mantles wove; All equal growth, and low their branches came, Thick set with goodliest fruits of every name: In midst, to cheer the ravish’d gazer’s view, A gushing fount its waters upward threw, Thence slowly on with crystal current pass’d, And crept into the distant flood at last: But nigh its source a pine’s umbrageous head, Stretch’d far and wide, in deathless verdure spread, Met with broad shade the summer’s sultry gleam, And through the livelong year shut out the beam. Such was the scene :—yet still the place was bless’d With one rare pleasure passing all the rest: A wondrous bird of energies divine Had fix’d his dwelling in the tufted pine ; There still he sat, and there with amorous lay Waked the dim morn, and closed the parting day: Match’d with these strains of linked sweetness wrought, The violin and full-toned harp were nought ; Of power they were with new-born joy to move The cheerless heart of long-desponding love ; Of power so strange that should they cease to sound, And the blithe songster flee the mystic ground, That goodly orchard’s scene, the pine-tree’s shade, Trees, flowers, and fount would all like vapour fade. VOL, VI. WE 354 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pa Kil. ‘ Listen, listen to my lay!’ Thus the merry notes did chime ; ‘ All who mighty love obey, Sadly wasting in your prime, Clerk and laick, grave and gay! Yet do ye, before the rest, Gentle maidens, mark me tell! Store my lesson in your breast, Trust me it shall profit well: Hear, and heed me, and be bless’d!’ So sang the bird of old; but when he spied The carle draw near, with alter’d tone he cried— ‘ Back, river to thy source! and thee, tall tower, Thee castle strong, may gaping earth devour ! Bend down your heads, ye gaudy flowers, and ca fade, And wither’d be each fruit-tree’s mantling shade ! Beneath these beauteous branches once were seen Brave gentle knights disporting on the green, And lovely dames; and oft, these flowers among, Stay’d the blithe bands, and joy’d to hear my song! Nor would they hence retire, nor quit the grove, Till many a vow were past of mutual love; These more would cherish, those would more deserve ; Cost, courtesy, and arms, and nothing swerve. O bitter change! for master now we see A faitour villain carle of low degree; Foul gluttony employs his livelong day, Nor heeds nor hears he my melodious lay.’ So spake the bird; and, as he ceased to sing, Indignantly he clapp’d his downy wing, And straight was gone ; but no abasement stirr’d In the clown’s breast at his reproachful word : TRANSLATIONS. 355 Bent was his wit alone by quaint device To snare, and sell him for a passing price: So well he wrought, so craftily he spread In the thick foliage green his slender thread, That when at eve the little songster sought His wonted spray, his heedless foot was caught. ‘ How have I harm’d you?’ straight he ’gan to cry; And wherefore would you do me thus to die ?)— ‘ Nay, fear not,’ quoth the clown, ‘ for death or I only seek to profit by thy song: [wrong ; Ill get thee a fine cage; nor shalt thou lack Good store of kernels and of seeds to crack ; But sing thou shalt; for if thou play’st the mute, V’ll spit thee, bird, and pick thy bones to boot.’ ‘ Ah, woe is me!’ the little thrall replied, Who thinks of song in prison doom’d to bide ? And were I cook’d, my bulk might scarce afford One scanty mouthful to my hungry lord.’ What may I more relate?—The eaptive wight Assay’d to melt the villain all he might; And fairly promised, were he once set free, In gratitude to teach him secrets three ; Three secrets, all so marvellous and rare, [pare. His race knew nought that might with these com- The carle prick’d up his ears amain : he loosed The songster thrall, by love of gain seduced: Up to the summit of the pine-tree’s shade Sped the blithe bird, and there at ease he stay’d, And trick’d his plumes full leisurely, I trow, Till the carle claim’d his promise from below: ‘ Right gladly,’ quoth the bird; ‘ now grow thee wise : All human prudence few brief lines comprise: 356 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, P, XII. First then, lest haply in the event it fail, Yield not a ready faith to every tale.’ ‘ Is this thy secret?’ quoth the moody elf; Keep then thy silly lesson for thyself; I need it not.’—* Howbe ’tis not amiss To prick thy memory with advice like this: But late, meseems, thou hadst forgot the lore ; Now mayst thou hold it fast for evermore. Mark next my second rule, and sadly know, What's lost, ’tis wise with patience to forego.’ The carle, though rude of wit, now chafed amain, He felt the mockery of the songster’s strain. ‘Peace,’ quoth the bird; ‘ my third is far the best; Store thou the precious treasure in thy breast: What good thou hast, ne’er lightly from thee cast.’ He spoke, and, twittering, fled away full fast. Straight, sunk in earth, the gushing fountain dries, Down fall the fruits, the wither’d pine-tree dies, Fades all the beauteous plat, so cool, so green, Into thin air, and never more is seen. Such was the meed of avarice :—bitter cost! The carle who all would gather, all has lost. WAY. THE NORMAN BACHELOR. FROM A FRENCH FABLIAU.” Wuen Acre yielded to the hostile host (Twas but a year or two ago at most), A pleasant chance in Normandy befell, Which, as my memory serves, I mean to tell. A needy Bachelor had dwelling there, ’ Of worldly means in sooth so passing bare, — or TRANSLATIONS. 357 He once was fain his dinner meal to make On the poor pittance of a farthing cake. To help this miserable morsel down, He hied him to a tavern in the town, And bade the vintner, as he meant to dine, To draw him straight a farthing’s worth of wine. The vintner, one it seems of churlish kind, Who cared but little how his neighbour dined, From the next vessel fill’d his measure up, And, as he pour’d it thence into the cup, Slubber’d with such ill grace the business o’er, That half the draught was spilt upon the floor. To crown the deed, with supercilious pride, “Yow’ll soon grow rich, Sir Bachelor!’ he cried, ‘ Wine spilt, they say (be’t true or falsely spoken), Some sequent good doth evermore betoken.’ The Norman deem’d it were but labour lost, To chafe or wrangle with his boorish host; His wit to artifice he wisely bent, And thus devised the caitiff’s punishment. In his poor purse remain’d one farthing still ; This, with frank guise, as one who thought no ill, He tender’d to his host, so would he please To furnish him a farthing slice of cheese. Up to the loft where all his cheeses lay The vintner-hied, but muttering all the way: That selfsame instant turn’d the knight about, And from the wine-cask pluck’d the spigot out; Forth gush’d the guggling liquor, bright and good, And the wide floor was deluged with the flood: Back sped the host, and, furious at the sight, First pegg’d his cask, and next assail’d the knight: But the strong Norman sternly shook the thrall, Hurl’d back, and crush’d his wine-pots with his fall; 3908 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, P. XU. And, but that entering neighbours quell’d the fray, The vintner then had seen his dying day. The matter soon was to the king made known (Count Henry of Champagne possess’d the throne); And first the plaintive vintner stoutly spoke, And claim’d redress:—Wine lost, and vessels broke. The prince doom’d not the knight to recompense, But will’d him first to argue his defence : He the plain truth from end to end exposed; Then with these words his frank recital closed : ‘ Great sire!’ he said, ‘ this worthy host of mine Foretold much good would spring from Sipe wine ; That I, forsooth, whose cup washalf thrown isin Should soon become the wealthiest wight in town : My gratitude, I own, o’ercame me here; [dear, And, weening wealth might ne’er be bought too I strove to make him richer than myself, And shed full half a cask to purchase pelf.’ He ceased; loud plaudits rang through all the No tale was ever told so full of sport: —[court: All ranged them seemly by the Norman’s side, While good King Henry laugh’d until he cried ; Then thus dismiss’d the parties and their suit— ‘What’s spilt is spilt,—betide or bale or boot.’ WAY. THE LAND OF COKAIGNE. FROM THE ANCIENT FRENCH. WELL I wot ’tis often told, Wisdom dwells but with the old; Yet do I, of greener age, Boast and bear the name of sage : 7 TRANSLATIONS, Briefiy, sense was ne’er conferr’d By the measure of the beard. List, for now my tale begins,—: How to rid me of my sins, Once I journeyed, far from home, To the gate of holy Rome : There the Pope, for my offence, Bade me straight in penance thence, Wandering onward, to attain The wondrous land, that hight Cokaigne, Sooth to say, it was a place Bless’d with Heaven’s especial grace ; For every road and every street Smoked with food for man to eat: Pilgrims there might halt at will, There might sit and feast their fill, In goodly bowers that lined the way, Free for all, and nought to pay. Through that blissful realm divine Roll’d a sparkling flood of wine: Clear the sky, and soft the air, For eternal spring was there ; And, all around, the groves among, Countless dance, and ceaseless song. Strife and ire and war were not, For all was held by common lot; And every lass that sported there Still was kind, and still was fair ; Free to each as each desired, And quitted when the year expired ; For, once the circling seasons past, Surest vows no more might last. But the chiefest, choicest treasure, In that land of peerless pleasure, 309 360 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, P. XH. Was a well, to saine the sooth, Cleped the living well of youth. There, had numb and feeble age Cross’d you in your pilgrimage, In those wondrous waters pure Laved a while, you found a cure: Lustihed and youth appears Numbering now but twenty years. Woe is me! who rue the hour! Once I own’d both will and power To have gain’d this precious gift ; But, alas! of little thrift, From a kind o’erflowing heart To my fellows to impart Youth, and joy, and all the lot Of this rare enchanted spot, Forth I fared, and now in vain Seek to find the place again. Sore regret I now endure! Sore regret beyond a cure! List and learn from what is pass’d, Having bliss, to hold it fast. ; WAY. STANZAS. FROM THE PROVENCAL OF RAMBAUD DE VAQUEIRAS. Compass’D with warriors, bound in brilliant arms, Leaguering strong towns, exulting in the fight, Mounting the imminent breach mid proud alarms, Shaking the old towers from their dizzy height-—— Such be the rugged tasks which claim me now, Calling my thoughts from thee, and sweet Love’s vow. TRANSLATIONS. 361 Girt in my noble arms, my sole pursuit Hath been the combat and the battle strife, And my reward—oh, vain and worthless fruit! Hath been the dross of gold—Alas! my life Is but a desert, severed from thy side, And even my song hath lost its wonted pride. ANONYMOUS, LINES. FROM THE PROVENCAL OF BERTRAND DE BORN. Nor rich viands, nor the cup With the red wine sparkling up— Not the sweeter joys of sleep To eyes that painful vigils keep— Match the soul-born fierce delight, - When, amid the mingling fight, We listen to the swelling cry, ‘To the rescue! Victory!’ While a thousand hoarse throats shout, ‘ Courage! Courage!’ ’mid the rout. Oh! ’tis joy to hear the neighing Of loosen’d steeds, ’mid slain and slaying— To see the shatter’d standards wave, O’er the cold and bloody grave Of chief and soldier, side by side, Fallen in the battle’s pride. ANONYMOUS. VOL. VI. 3 A 362 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Piasiie THE COMPLAINT. FROM THE PROVENCAL OF THE COUNTESS DE DIE. Aas! alas! my song is sad; How.should it not be so, When he who used to make me glad, Now leaves me in my woe? With him my love, my graciousness, My beauty all are vain, I feel as though some guiltiness Had mark’d me with its stain. One sweet thought still has power o’er me In this, my heart’s great need, Tis that [ ne’er was false to thee, Dear friend! in word or deed. I own. that nobler virtues fill Thy heart; love only mine: Yet why are all thy looks so chill Till they on others shine ? O long-loved friend! I marvel much Thy heart is so severe, That it will yield not to the touch Of love, and sorrow’s tear. No! no! it cannot be that thou Shouldst seek another love, Oh! think upon our early vow, And thou wilt faithful prove. » Thy virtue’s pride, thy lofty fame, Assure me thou art true, Though fairer ones than I may claim Fhy hand, and deign to sue. ee EE TRANSLATIONS. 363 But think, beloved one! that to bless With perfect blessing, thou Must seek for trusting tenderness,— Remember then our vow. ANONYMOUS. VERSES TO MY FIRSTBORN. FROM THE FRENCH OF MADAM DE SURVILLE. My cherish’d infant! image of thy sire! Sleep on the bosom which thy small lips presses ; Sleep, little one, and close those eyes of fire, Those eyelets which the weight of sleep op- presses. Sweet friend! dear little one! may slumber lend thee Delights which I must never more enjoy ! I watch o’er thee, to nourish and defend thee, And count these vigils sweet for thee, my boy. Sleep, infant, sleep, my solace and my treasure ! Sleep on my breast, the breast which gladly bore thee! [pleasure, And though thy words can give this heart no Itloves to see thy thousand smiles come o’er thee. Yes, thou wilt smile, young friend! when thou awakest, Yes, thou wilt smile to see my joyful guise ; Thy mother’s face thou never now mistakest, And thou hast learn’d to look into her eyes, 364 _ ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XIl. What! do thy little fingers leave the breast, The fountain which thy small lip press’d at pleasure ? Couldst thou exhaust it, pledge of passion bless’d! Even then thou couldst not know my fond love’s measure. My gentle son! sweet friend, whom I adore! My infant love! my comfort, my delight! I gaze on thee, and gazing o’er and o’er, I blame the quick return of every night. His little arms stretch forth—sleep o'er him steals— His eye is closed—he sleeps—how still his breath ! But for the tints his flowery cheek reveals, He seems to slumber in the arms of death. Awake, my child !—I tremble with affright !-— Awaken! Fatal thought, thou art no more, My child! one moment gaze upon the light, And e’en with thy repose my life restore. Bless’d error! still he sleeps—-I breathe again— May gentle dreams delight his calm repose! But when will he, for whom I sigh—oh, when Will he, beside me, watch thine eyes unclose? When shall I see him who hath given thee life, My youthful husband, noblest of his race ? Methinks I see, bless’d mother, and bless’d wife! Thy little hands thy father’s neck embrace. How will he revel in thy first caress, Disputing with thee for my gentle kiss! But think not to engross his tenderness, Clotilda too shall have her share of bliss. TRANSLATIONS. 365 How will he joy to see his image there, The sweetness of his large cerulean eye! His noble forehead, and his graceful air, Which Love himself might view with jealousy. For me—I am not jealous of his love, And gladly I divide it, sweet, with thee ; Thou shalt, like him, a faithful husband prove, But not, like him, give this anxiety. I speak to thee—thou understand’st me not— Thou couldst not understand, though sleep were fled— Poor little child! the tangles of his thought, His infant thought, are not unravelled. We have been happy infants, as thou art ; Sad reason will destroy the dream too soon; Sleep in the calm repose that stills thy heart, Ere long its very memory will be gone! R. ODE TO APRIL. FROM THE FRENCH OF BELLEAU. APRIL, sweet month, the daintiest of all, Fair thee befall : April, fond hope of fruits that lie In buds of swathing cotton wrapp’d, There closely lapp’d, Nursing their tender infancy. April, that dost thy yellow, green, and blue, All round thee strew, 366 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XII. When, as thou goest, the grassy floor Is with a million flowers depaint, Whose colours quaint Have diaper’d the meadows o’er. April, at whose glad coming Zephyrs rise With whisper’d sighs, Then on their light wing brush away, And hang amid the woodlands fresh Their aery mesh To tangle Flora on her way. April, it is thy hand that doth unlock, From plain and rock, Odours and hues a balmy store, That breathing lie on Nature’s breast, So richly bless’d, That earth or heaven can ask no more. April, thy blooms, amid the tresses laid Of my sweet maid, - Adown her neck and bosom flow ; And in a wild profusion there Her shining hair With them hath blent a golden glow. April, the dimpled smiles, the playful grace That in the face Of Cytherea haunt, are thine ; And thine the breath, that from their skies The deities Inhale, an offering at thy shrine. *Tis thou that dost with summons blithe and soft, High up aloft es TRANSLATIONS. 367 From banishment these heralds bring, These swallows that along the air Scud swift, and bear Glad tidings of the merry spring. April, the hawthorn and the eglantine, Purple woodbine, Streak’d pink, and lily-cup, and rose, And thyme, and marjoram, are spreading, Where thou art treading, And their sweet eyes for thee unclose. The little nightingale sits singing aye On leafy spray, And in her fitful strain doth run A thousand and a thousand changes, With voice that ranges Through every sweet division. April, it is when thou dost come again, That love is fain With gentlest breath the fires to wake That cover’d up and slumbering lay, Through many a day When winter’s chill our veins did slake. Sweet month, thou seest at this jocund prime Of the spring-time, The hives pour out their lusty young, And hear’st the yellow bees that ply, With laden thigh Murmuring the flowery wilds among. May shall with pomp his wavy wealth unfold, His fruits of gold, 368 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XII. His fertilizing dews, that swell In manna on each spike and stem, And, like a gem, Red honey in the waxen cell. Who will may praise him; but my voice shall be, Sweet month, for thee ; Thou that to her dost owe thy name, Who saw the sea-wave’s foamy tide Swell and divide, Whence forth to life and light she came. ANONYMOUS. THE MOUNTEBANK. FROM THE FRENCH OF MESLIN ST, GELAIS, AT market once a Mountebank aloud Proclaim’d, he’d show the devil to the crowd: The wondrous news straight through the village flew ; Men, women, children, round the booth it drew: Not one there was, though old or lame were he, Who did not hurry the foul fiend to see. Forth stalk’d the Mountebank with gravest look ; An open purse, with downward mouth, he shook. ‘ Now stretch your eyes, my friends; look sharp ;’ he cried— ‘ And, tell me truly, see you aught inside ?” ‘ There’s nought!’ they bawl’d, ‘ there’s nothing in the bag.’ ‘I’ve kept my promise, then,’ exclaim’d the wag: ‘ For ’tis the devil, you all must own this minute, One’s purse to open, and find nothing in it.’ R. A, DAVENPORT. | TRANSLATIONS. 369 ODE. FROM THE FRENCH OF RONSARD. Wnuy dost thou tremble, peasant, say, Before the men who empires sway, Who soon will, shadowy sprites, be led, To swell the number of the dead ? Know’st thou not, that all must go To the gloomy realms below; And that an imperial ghost Must no less the Stygian coast Visit, than the humble shade Of him who plies the woodman’s trade? Courage, tiller of the ground! Those who hurl war’s thunder round Will not seek their last abode In arms, as where the battle glow’d. Naked, like thee, shall they depart ; Nor will the hauberk, sword, or dart Avail them more, when life shall flee, Than thy rough ploughshare shall to thee. Not more just Rhadamanthus cares For the mail the warrior wears, Than for the staff with which the swain Urges on his lowing train: By him with equal eye are seen Thy dusty raiment, rude and mean, And puriled robes of Tyrian hue, Enwrought with gems to charm the view, Or all the costly vestments spread Around the forms of monarchs dead ! R. A. DAVENPORT. VOL. VI. 3B 370 ELEGANT EXTRACTS, P, XII. ODE ON THE RETURN OF SPRING. FROM THE FRENCH OF RONSARD, Gop shield ye, heralds of the spring, Ye faithful swallows, fleet of wing, Houps, cuckoos, nightingales, Turtles, and every wilder bird That make your hundred chirpings heard Through the green woods and dales. God shield ye, Easter daisies all, Fair roses, buds, and blossoms small ; And ye, whom erst the gore Of Ajax and Narciss did print, Ye wild thyme, anise, balm, and mint, I welcome ye once more. God shield ye, bright embroider’d train Of butterflies, that, on the plain, Of each sweet herblet sip ; And ye, new swarms of bees, that go Where the pink flowers and yellow grow, To kiss them with your lip. A hundred thousand times I call— A hearty welcome on ye all: This season how I love! This merry din on every shore, For winds and storms, whose sullen roar Forbade my steps to rove. ANONYMOUS. Eee eee eee ee TRANSLATIONS. 371 ODE TO M. MENARD. FROM THE FRENCH OF RACAN. Now that Winter, with gloomy and rigoroussway, Hurls his tempests, his sleet, and his snow all the And keeps us besieged by the fire, [day, Let us drown inthe glassall our cares as we ought, Nor give taxes and parties and statesmen a thought, Nor who fights and who conquers inquire. I know, dear Menard, all the works that you write, Fruits immortal of many a slumberless night, Will live till the world meets its doom: But what will it boot you, dear friend, that your name Shall surely be read in the temple of Fame, When you feed the worms of the tomb? Quit, quit then a toil which in vain you bestow! Of our nectar delicious in torrents shall flow The ruby red sparkling stores. More ruddy and bright will our nectar be found Than that which young Ganymede, passing around, In the cups of the deities pours. ’Tis wine that so swiftly speeds onward the years, That each scarce a day to our fancy appears : ’Tis wine makes us youthful once more : ’Tis wine that alone from the bosom bids fly The regret and remembrance of things now gone by, And the dread of the sorrows in store. Let us drink, dear Menard, let us fill high our glasses ; For Time, stealing on, imperceptibly passes ; 372 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. Pex He leads to the close of our course, ’T were in vain to entreat for a moment of grace, The years will as little their footsteps retrace, As rivers run back to their source. The Spring, clothed with light and with verdure and bloom, . Shall quickly again chase the frost and the gloom ; The sea has its ebb and its rise ; But when that atlength rosy youth quits the stage, And his empire resigns to the sceptre of age, For ever, for ever he flies! The laws of stern Death seize resistless on all! Alike on the sovereign’s palace they fall, And the reed-cover’d hut of the swain. The Fates, when they please, destine man to the grave, And the thread of existence in monarch and slave By the same steel they sever in twain. By their tyrannous power nought on earth is re- vered, It strikes, and the things that eternal appear’d Like the visions of slumberers sink : By that power, dear Menard, we too soon shall be led, In the regions of darkness and silence to tread, And the stream of oblivion to drink. R, A, DAVENPORT. a TRANSLATIONS. 373 TO A LADY. FROM THE FRENCH OF DESPORTES. Curt those auburn locks with care, That shade thy forehead smooth and fair ; With humble glance my glances seek ; In tones of magic sweetness speak ; Breathe full oft deceitful sighs ; Raise to heaven thine azure eyes ; Weep; and exhaust thy power to feign; Thy wiles and hopes will all be vain! Never more, to thee returning, Shall my heart with love be burning! So many groans of sad lament, So many days in anguish spent, So many nights of sleepless woe, Thy fatal beauty made me know, That ne’er again thy spells shall blind me, Ne’er again thy fetters bind me: For I, at length, have learn’d to borrow Wisdom from my former sorrow! O wretched he! whose captive soul Owns a faithless fair’s control ; And, while she mocks his fond believing, Trusts her words and oaths deceiving! Then cease, thou false one, cease to strive My buried passion to revive! If ever thy seductive art To bondage lure again my heart, Let the hard destiny be mine Unpitied and unheard to pine: For he who twice to folly swerves, No pardon for his fault deserves. R, A, DAVENPORT. 374 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P, XII. THE ABBE L’ATTAIGNANT’S FAREWELL. FROM THE FRENCH, Soon eighty years shall I have told, Methinks, now I’m become thus old, . ~ ’Tis time this life to slight: I quit it, then, devoid of care, | And gaily to depart prepare : Good night, my friends, good night! All earthly pleasures have I known; Now, even desire itself is flown: I’m tired and languid quite. He who scarce keeps himself awake, Is wise his parting bow to make. Good night, my friends, good night! ~» SONG. FROM THE FRENCH. ‘¢ An! say,” the fair Louisa cried, ‘¢ Say where the abode of Love is found:? Pervading nature, I replied, His influence spreads the world around. When Morning’s arrowy beams arise’ He sparkles in the’ enlivening ray, And blushes in the glowing skies When rosy Evening fades away. TRANSLATIONS. 375 The summer winds that gently blow, The flocks that. bleat along the glades, The nightingale, that soft and low With music fills the listening shades, The murmurs of the silver surf, All echo Love’s enchanting notes ; From violets lurking in the turf, His balmy breath through ether floats. From perfumed flowers and dewy leaves Delicious scents he bids exhale; He smiles amid autumnal sheaves, And clothes with green the grassy vale: But when that throne the God assumes Where his most powerful influence lies, ?Tis on Louisa’s cheek he blooms, And lightens from her radiant eyes! CHARLOTTE SMITH. THE EMBLEM OF LOVE. FROM THE FRENCH OF THE MARQUIS DE PEZAI. By thee, on the sand of this shore, Our ciphers in union were traced, But the fugitive billows roll’d o’er, And the writing was quickly effaced. Yet thy emblem of love, though so frail That the waters soon swept it away, Not so soon, O thou false one! did fail As the passion ’twas meant to display. R, A. DAVENPORT. 876 ELEGANT EXTRACTS. P. XII. THE ROSE, FROM THE FRENCH OF BERNARD. NourRsED by the zephyr’s balmy sighs, And cherish’d by the tears of morn; Oh flower of flowers! unfold—arise! O haste, delicious Rose, be born! Unheeded wish! no—yet awhile, Be yet awhile thy doom delay’d, Since the same hour that sees thee smile In orient bloom, shail see thee fade. Cecilia thus, an opening flower, Must withering droop at Heaven’s decree ; Like her thou bloom’st thy little hour, And she, alas! must fade like thee. But go—and on her bosom die; At once thy throne and blissful tomb ; While envious heaves my secret sigh, ‘ To share with thee so sweet a doom. Love shall thy graceful bent advise, Thy blushing tremulous tints reveal ; Go, bright yet hurtless, charm her eyes; Go, deck her bosom, not conceal. Should some bold hand invade thee there, From Love’s asylum rudely torn; O Rose, a lover’s vengeance bear, And let my rival feel thy thorn. C. A. ELTON. THE END. C. Whittingham, College House, Chiswick. i, aR , Be Perea, Ha wt Tey \ NG Hy 4 i : if } i ; : \ f as ae ee a, atte f