Poemata: Latin, Greek and Italian Poems

Learn ye nations of the earth

The condition of your birth,

Now be taught your feeble state,

Know, that all must yield to Fate!

If the mournful Rover, Death,

Say but once–resign your breath–

Vainly of escape you dream,

You must pass the Stygian stream.

Could the stoutest overcome

Death's assault, and baffle Doom,

Hercules had both withstood

Undiseas'd by Nessus' blood.^[96]

Ne'er had Hector press'd the plain

By a trick of Pallas slain,

Nor the Chief to Jove allied^[97]

By Achilles' phantom died.

Could enchantments life prolong,

Circe, saved by magic song,

Still had liv'd, and equal skill

Had preserv'd Medea still.^[98]

Dwelt in herbs and drugs a pow'r

To avert Man's destin'd hour,

Learn'd Machaon^[99] should have known

Doubtless to avert his own.

Chiron had survived the smart

Of the Hydra–tainted dart,^[100]

And Jove's bolt had been with ease

Foil'd by Asclepiades.^[101]

Thou too, Sage! of whom forlorn

Helicon and Cirrha mourn,

Still had'st filled thy princely place,

Regent of the gowned race,

Had'st advanc'd to higher fame

Still, thy much–ennobled name,

Nor in Charon's skiff explored

The Tartarean gulph abhorr'd.

But resentful Proserpine,

Jealous of thy skill divine,

Snapping short thy vital thread

Thee too number'd with the Dead.

Wise and good! untroubled be

The green turf that covers thee,

Thence in gay profusion grow

All the sweetest flow'rs that blow!

Pluto's Consort bid thee rest!

Oeacus pronounce thee blest!

To her home thy shade consign,

Make Elysium ever thine!

Am pius extrema veniens Jacobus ab arcto

Teucrigenas populos, lateque patentia regna

Albionum tenuit, jamque inviolabile foedus

Sceptra Caledoniis conjunxerat Anglica Scotis:

Pacificusque novo felix divesque sedebat

In solio, occultique doli securus & hostis:

Cum ferus ignifluo regnans Acheronte tyrannus,

Eumenidum pater, aethereo vagus exul Olympo,

Forte per immensum terrarum erraverat orbem,

Dinumerans sceleris socios, vernasque fideles,

Participes regni post funera moesta futuros;

Hic tempestates medio ciet aere diras,

Illic unanimes odium struit inter amicos,

Armat & invictas in mutua viscera gentes;

Regnaque olivifera vertit florentia pace,

Et quoscunque videt purae virtutis amantes,

Hos cupit adjicere imperio, fraudumque magister

Tentat inaccessum sceleri corrumpere pectus,

Insidiasque locat tacitas, cassesque latentes

Tendit, ut incautos rapiat, seu Caspia Tigris

Insequitur trepidam deserta per avia praedam

Nocte sub illuni, & somno nictantibus astris.

Talibus infestat populos Summanus & urbes

Cinctus caeruleae fumanti turbine flammae.

Jamque fluentisonis albentia rupibus arva

Apparent, & terra Deo dilecta marino,

Cui nomen dederat quondam Neptunia proles

Amphitryoniaden qui non dubitavit atrocem

Aequore tranato furiali poscere bello,

Ante expugnatae crudelia saecula Troiae.

At simul hanc opibusque & festa pace beatam

Aspicit, & pingues donis Cerealibus agros,

Quodque magis doluit, venerantem numina veri

Sancta Dei populum, tandem suspiria rupit

Tartareos ignes & luridum olentia sulphur.

Qualia Trinacria trux ab Jove clausus in Aetna

Efflat tabifico monstrosus ab ore Tiphoeus.

Ignescunt oculi, stridetque adamantinus ordo

Dentis, ut armorum fragor, ictaque cuspide cuspis.

Atque pererrato solum hoc lacrymabile mundo

Inveni, dixit, gens haec mihi sola rebellis,

Contemtrixque jugi, nostraque potentior arte.

Illa tamen, mea si quicquam tentamina possunt,

Non feret hoc impune diu, non ibit inulta,

Hactenus; & piceis liquido natat aere pennis;

Qua volat, adversi praecursant agmine venti,

Densantur nubes, & crebra tonitrua fulgent.

Jamque pruinosas velox superaverat alpes,

Et tenet Ausoniae fines, a parte sinistra

Nimbifer Appenninus erat, priscique Sabini,

Dextra veneficiis infamis Hetruria, nec non

Te furtiva Tibris Thetidi videt oscula dantem;

Hinc Mavortigenae consistit in arce Quirini.

Reddiderant dubiam jam sera crepuscula lucem,

Cum circumgreditur totam Tricoronifer urbem,

Panificosque Deos portat, scapulisque virorum

Evehitur, praeeunt summisso poplite reges,

Et mendicantum series longissima fratrum;

Cereaque in manibus gestant funalia caeci,

Cimmeriis nati in tenebris, vitamque trahentes.

Templa dein multis subeunt lucentia taedis

(Vesper erat sacer iste Petro) fremitoesque canentum

Saepe tholos implet vacuos, & inane locorum.

Qualiter exululat Bromius, Bromiique caterva,

Orgia cantantes in Echionio Aracyntho,

Dum tremit attonitus vitreis Asopus in undis,

Et procul ipse cava responsat rupe Cithaeron.

His igitur tandem solenni more peractis,

Nox senis amplexus Erebi taciturna reliquit,

Praecipitesque impellit equos stimulante flagello,

Captum oculis Typhlonta, Melanchaetemque ferocem,

Atque Acherontaeo prognatam patre Siopen

Torpidam, & hirsutis horrentem Phrica capillis.

Interea regum domitor, Phlegetontius haeres

Ingreditur thalamos (neque enim secretus adulter

Producit steriles molli sine pellice noctes)

At vix compositos somnus claudebat ocellos,

Cum niger umbrarum dominus, rectorque silentum,

Praedatorque hominum falsa sub imagine tectus

Astitit, assumptis micuerunt tempora canis,

Barba sinus promissa tegit, cineracea longo

Syrmate verrit humum vestis, pendetque cucullus

Vertice de raso, & ne quicquam desit ad artes,

Cannabeo lumbos constrinxit fune salaces,

Tarda fenestratis figens vestigia calceis.

Talis uti fama est, vasta Franciscus eremo

Tetra vagabatur solus per lustra ferarum,

Sylvestrique tulit genti pia verba salutis

Impius, atque lupos domuit, Lybicosque leones.

Subdolus at tali Serpens velatus amictu

Solvit in has fallax ora execrantia voces;

Dormis nate? Etiamne tuos sopor opprimit artus?

Immemor O fidei, pecorumque oblite tuorum,

Dum cathedram venerande tuam, diadmaque triplex

Ridet Hyperboreo gens barbara nata sub axe,

Dumque pharetrati spernunt tua jura Britanni;

Surge, age, surge piger, Latius quem Caesar adorat,

Cui reserata patet convexi janua caeli,

Turgentes animos, & fastus frange procaces,

Sacrilegique sciant, tua quid maledictio possit,

Et quid Apostolicae possit custodia clavis;

Et memor Hesperiae disjectam ulciscere classem,

Mersaque Iberorum lato vexilla profundo,

Sanctorumque cruci tot corpora fixa probrosae,

Thermodoontea nuper regnante puella.

At tu si tenero mavis torpescere lecto

Crescentesque negas hosti contundere vires,

Tyrrhenum implebit numeroso milite Pontum,

Signaque Aventino ponet fulgentia colle:

Relliquias veterum franget, flammisque cremabit,

Sacraque calcabit pedibus tua colla profanis,

Cujus gaudebant soleis dare basia reges.

Nec tamen hunc bellis & aperto Marte lacesses,

Irritus ille labor, tu callidus utere fraude,

Quaelibet haereticis disponere retia fas est;

Jamque ad consilium extremis rex magnus ab oris

Patricios vocat, & procerum de stirpe creatos,

Grandaevosque patres trabea, canisque verendos;

Hos tu membratim poteris conspergere in auras,

Atque dare in cineres, nitrati pulveris igne

Aedibus injecto, qua convenere, sub imis.

Protinus ipse igitur quoscumque habet Anglia fidos

Propositi, factique mone, quisquamne tuorum

Audebit summi non jussa facessere Papae.

Perculsosque metu subito, cas£mque stupentes

Invadat vel Gallus atrox, vel saevus Iberus

Saecula sic illic tandem Mariana redibunt,

Tuque in belligeros iterum dominaberis Anglos.

Et nequid timeas, divos divasque secundas

Accipe, quotque tuis celebrantur numina fastis.

Dixit & adscitos ponens malefidus amictus

Fugit ad infandam, regnum illaetabile, Lethen.

Jam rosea Eoas pandens Tithonia portas

Vestit inauratas redeunti lumine terras;

Maestaque adhuc nigri deplorans funera nati

Irrigat ambrosiis montana cacumina guttis;

Cum somnos pepulit stellatae janitor aulae

Nocturnos visus, & somnia grata revolvens.

Est locus aeterna septus caligine noctis

Vasta ruinosi quondam fundamina tecti,

Nunc torvi spelunca Phoni, Prodotaeque bilinguis

Effera quos uno peperit Discordia partu.

Hic inter caementa jacent praeruptaque saxa,

Ossa inhumata virum, & trajecta cadavera ferro;

Hic Dolus intortis semper sedet ater ocellis,

Jurgiaque, & stimulis armata Calumnia fauces,

Et Furor, atque viae moriendi mille videntur

Et Timor, exanguisque locum circumvolat Horror,

Perpetuoque leves per muta silentia Manes

Exululant, tellus & sanguine conscia stagnat.

Ipsi etiam pavidi latitant penetralibus antri

Et Phonos, & Prodotes, nulloque sequente per antrum

Antrum horrens, scopulosum, atrum feralibus umbris

Diffugiunt sontes, & retro lumina vortunt,

Hos pugiles Romae per saecula longa fideles

Evocat antistes Babylonius, atque ita fatur.

Finibus occiduis circumfusum incolit aequor

Gens exosa mihi, prudens natura negavit

Indignam penitus nostro conjungere mundo;

Illuc, sic jubeo, celeri contendite gressu,

Tartareoque leves difflentur pulvere in auras

Et rex & pariter satrapae, scelerata propago

Et quotquot fidei caluere cupidine verae

Consilii socios adhibete, operisque ministros.

Finierat, rigidi cupide paruere gemelli.

Interea longo flectens curvamine caelos

Despicit aetherea dominus qui fulgurat arce,

Vanaque perversae ridet conamina turbae,

Atque sui causam populi volet ipse tueri.

Esse ferunt spatium, qua distat ab Aside terra

Fertilis Europe, & spectat Mareotidas undas;

Hic turris posita est Titanidos ardua Famae

Aerea, lata, sonans, rutilis vicinior astris

Quam superimpositum vel Athos vel Pelion Ossae

Mille fores aditusque patent, totidemque fenestrae,

Amplaque per tenues translucent atria muros;

Excitat hic varios plebs agglomerata susurros;

Qualiter instrepitant circum mulctralia bombis

Agmina muscarum, aut texto per ovilia junco,

Dum Canis aestivum coeli petit ardua culmen

Ipsa quidem summa sedet ultrix matris in arce,

Auribus innumeris cinctum caput eminet olli,

Queis sonitum exiguum trahit, atque levissima captat

Murmura, ab extremis patuli confinibus orbis.

Nec tot Aristoride servator inique juvencae

Isidos, immiti volvebas lumina vultu,

Lumina non unquam tacito nutantia somno,

Lumina subjectas late spectantia terras.

Istis illa solet loca luce carentia saepe

Perlustrare, etiam radianti impervia soli.

Millenisque loquax auditaque visaque linguis

Cuilibet effundit temeraria, veraque mendax

Nunc minuit, modo confictis sermonibus auget.

Sed tamen a nostro meruisti carmine laudes

Fama, bonum quo non aliud veracius ullum,

Nobis digna cani, nec te memorasse pigebit

Carmine tam longo, servati scilicet Angli

Officiis vaga diva tuis, tibi reddimus aequa.

Te Deus aeternos motu qui temperat ignes,

Fulmine praemisso alloquitur, terraque tremente:

Fama siles? an te latet impia Papistarum

Conjurata cohors in meque meosque Britannos,

Et nova sceptrigero caedes meditata Jacobo:

Nec plura, illa statim sensit mandata Tonantis,

Et satis ante fugax stridentes induit alas,

Induit & variis exilia corpora plumis;

Dextra tubam gestat Temesaeo ex aere sonoram.

Nec mora jam pennis cedentes remigat auras,

Atque parum est cursu celeres praevertere nubes,

Jam ventos, jam solis equos post terga reliquit:

Et primo Angliacas solito de more per urbes

Ambiguas voces, incertaque murmura spargit,

Mox arguta dolos, & detestabile vulgat

Proditionis opus, nec non facta horrida dictu,

Authoresque addit sceleris, nec garrula caecis

Insidiis loca structa silet; stupuere relatis,

Et pariter juvenes, pariter tremuere puellae,

Effaetique senes pariter, tanteaeque ruinae

Sensus ad aetatem subito penetraverat omnem

Attamen interea populi miserescit ab alto

Aethereus pater, & crudelibus obstitit ausis

Papicolum; capti poenas raptantur ad acres;

At pia thura Deo, & grati solvuntur honores;

Compita laeta focis genialibus omnia fumant;

Turba choros juvenilis agit: Quintoque Novembris

Null Dies toto occurrit celebratior anno.

My lids with grief were tumid yet,

And still my sullied cheek was wet

With briny dews profusely shed

For venerable Winton dead,^[103]

When Fame, whose tales of saddest sound

Alas! are ever truest found,

The news through all our cities spread

Of yet another mitred head

By ruthless Fate to Death consign'd,

Ely, the honour of his kind.

At once, a storm of passion heav'd

My boiling bosom, much I grieved

But more I raged, at ev'ry breath

Devoting Death himself to death.

With less revenge did Naso^[104] teem

When hated Ibis was his theme;

With less, Archilochus,^[105] denied

The lovely Greek, his promis'd bride.

But lo! while thus I execrate,

Incens'd, the Minister of Fate,

Wondrous accents, soft, yet clear,

Wafted on the gale I hear.

Ah, much deluded! lay aside

Thy threats and anger misapplied.

Art not afraid with sounds like these

T'offend whom thou canst not appease?

Death is not (wherefore dream'st thou thus?)

The son of Night and Erebus,

Nor was of fell Erynnis born^[106]

In gulphs, where Chaos rules forlorn,

But sent from God, his presence leaves,

To gather home his ripen'd sheaves,

To call encumber'd souls away

From fleshly bonds to boundless day,

(As when the winged Hours excite,

And summon forth the Morning–light)

And each to convoy to her place

Before th'Eternal Father's face.

But not the wicked–Them, severe

Yet just, from all their pleasures here

He hurries to the realms below,

Terrific realms of penal woe!

Myself no sooner heard his call

Than, scaping through my prison–wall,

I bade adieu to bolts and bars,

And soar'd with angels to the stars,

Like Him of old, to whom 'twas giv'n

To mount, on fiery wheels, to heav'n.

Bootes' wagon,^[107] slow with cold

Appall'd me not, nor to behold

The sword that vast Orion draws,

Or ev'n the Scorpion's horrid claws.^[108]

Beyond the Sun's bright orb I fly,

And far beneath my feet descry

Night's dread goddess, seen with awe,

Whom her winged dragons draw.

Thus, ever wond'ring at my speed

Augmented still as I proceed,

I pass the Planetary sphere,

The Milky Way—and now appear

Heav'ns crystal battlements, her door

Of massy pearl, and em'rald floor.

But here I cease. For never can

The tongue of once a mortal man

In suitable description trace

The pleasures of that happy place,

Suffice it that those joys divine

Are all, and all for ever, mine.

Ah, how the Human Mind wearies herself

With her own wand'rings, and, involved in gloom

Impenetrable, speculates amiss!

Measuring, in her folly, things divine

By human, laws inscrib'd on adamant

By laws of Man's device, and counsels fix'd

For ever, by the hours, that pass, and die.

How?—shall the face of Nature then be plow'd

Into deep wrinkles, and shall years at last

On the great Parent fix a sterile curse?

Shall even she confess old age, and halt

And, palsy–smitten, shake her starry brows?

Shall foul Antiquity with rust and drought

And famine vex the radiant worlds above?

Shall Time's unsated maw crave and engulf

The very heav'ns that regulate his flight?

And was the Sire of all able to fence

His works, and to uphold the circling worlds,

But through improvident and heedless haste

Let slip th'occasion?—So then—All is lost—

And in some future evil hour, yon arch

Shall crumble and come thund'ring down, the poles

Jar in collision, the Olympian King

Fall with his throne, and Pallas, holding forth

The terrors of her Gorgon shield in vain,^[109]

Shall rush to the abyss, like Vulcan hurl'd

Down into Lemnos through the gate of heav'n.

Thou also, with precipitated wheels

Phoebus! thy own son's fall shalt imitate,

With hideous ruin shalt impress the Deep

Suddenly, and the flood shall reek and hiss

At the extinction of the Lamp of Day.

Then too, shall Haemus cloven to his base

Be shattered, and the huge Ceraunian hills,^[110]

Once weapons of Tartarean Dis, immersed

In Erebus, shall fill Himself with fear.

No. The Almighty Father surer lay'd

His deep foundations, and providing well

For the event of all, the scales of Fate

Suspended, in just equipoise, and bade

His universal works from age to age

One tenour hold, perpetual, undisturb'd.

Hence the Prime Mover wheels itself about

Continual, day by day, and with it bears

In social measure swift the heav'ns around.

Not tardier now is Saturn than of old,

Nor radiant less the burning casque of Mars.

Phoebus, his vigour unimpair'd, still shows

Th'effulgence of his youth, nor needs the God

A downward course that he may warm the vales;

But, ever rich in influence, runs his road,

Sign after sign, through all the heav'nly zone.

Beautiful as at first ascends the star^[111]

From odorif'rous Ind, whose office is

To gather home betimes th'ethereal flock,

To pour them o'er the skies again at Eve,

And to discriminate the Night and Day.

Still Cynthia's changeful horn waxes and wanes

Alternate, and with arms extended still

She welcomes to her breast her brother's beams.

Nor have the elements deserted yet

Their functions, thunder with as loud a stroke

As erst, smites through the rocks and scatters them,

The East still howls, still the relentless North

Invades the shudd'ring Scythian, still he breathes

The Winter, and still rolls the storms along.

The King of Ocean with his wonted force

Beats on Pelorus,^[112] o'er the Deep is heard

The hoarse alarm of Triton's sounding shell,

Nor swim the monsters of th'Aegean sea

In shallows, or beneath diminish'd waves.

Thou too, thy antient vegetative pow'r

Enjoy'st, O Earth! Narcissus still is sweet,

And, Phoebus! still thy Favourite, and still

Thy Fav'rite, Cytherea!^[113] both retain

Their beauty, nor the mountains, ore–enrich'd

For punishment of Man, with purer gold

Teem'd ever, or with brighter gems the Deep.

Thus, in unbroken series all proceeds

And shall, till, wide involving either pole,

And the immensity of yonder heav'n,

The final flames of destiny absorb

The world, consum'd in one enormous pyre!

Ye sister Pow'rs who o'er the sacred groves

Preside, and, Thou, fair mother of them all

Mnemosyne,^[114] and thou, who in thy grot

Immense reclined at leisure, hast in charge

The Archives and the ord'nances of Jove,

And dost record the festivals of heav'n,

Eternity!—Inform us who is He,

That great Original by Nature chos'n

To be the Archetype of Human–kind,

Unchangeable, Immortal, with the poles

Themselves coaeval, One, yet ev'rywhere,

An image of the god, who gave him Being?

Twin–brother of the Goddess born from Jove,^[115]

He dwells not in his Father's mind, but, though

Of common nature with ourselves, exists

Apart, and occupies a local home.

Whether, companion of the stars, he spend

Eternal ages, roaming at his will

From sphere to sphere the tenfold heav'ns, or dwell

On the moon's side that nearest neighbours Earth,

Or torpid on the banks of Lethe^[116] sit

Among the multitude of souls ordair'd

To flesh and blood, or whether (as may chance)

That vast and giant model of our kind

In some far–distant region of this globe

Sequester'd stalk, with lifted head on high

O'ertow'ring Atlas, on whose shoulders rest

The stars, terrific even to the Gods.

Never the Theban Seer,^[117]

whose blindness proved

His best illumination, Him beheld

In secret vision; never him the son

Of Pleione,^[118] amid the noiseless night

Descending, to the prophet–choir reveal'd;

Him never knew th'Assyrian priest,^[119] who yet

The ancestry of Ninus^[120] chronicles,

And Belus, and Osiris far–renown'd;

Nor even Thrice–great Hermes,^[121] although skill'd

So deep in myst'ry, to the worshippers

Of Isis show'd a prodigy like Him.

And thou,^[122] who hast immortalized the shades

Of Academus, if the school received

This monster of the Fancy first from Thee,

Either recall at once the banish'd bards

To thy Republic, or, thyself evinc'd

A wilder Fabulist, go also forth.

Oh that Pieria's spring^[123]

would thro' my breast

Pour its inspiring influence, and rush

No rill, but rather an o'erflowing flood!

That, for my venerable Father's sake

All meaner themes renounced, my Muse, on wings

Of Duty borne, might reach a loftier strain.

For thee, my Father! howsoe'er it please,

She frames this slender work, nor know I aught,

That may thy gifts more suitably requite;

Though to requite them suitably would ask

Returns much nobler, and surpassing far

The meagre stores of verbal gratitude.

But, such as I possess, I send thee all.

This page presents thee in their full amount

With thy son's treasures, and the sum is nought;

Naught, save the riches that from airy dreams

In secret grottos and in laurel bow'rs,

I have, by golden Clio's^[124] gift, acquir'd.

Verse is a work divine; despise not thou

Verse therefore, which evinces (nothing more)

Man's heav'nly source, and which, retaining still

Some scintillations of Promethean fire,

Bespeaks him animated from above.

The Gods love verse; the infernal Pow'rs themselves

Confess the influence of verse, which stirs

The lowest Deep, and binds in triple chains

Of adamant both Pluto and the shades.

In verse the Delphic priestess, and the pale

Tremulous Sybil make the Future known,

And He who sacrifices, on the shrine

Hangs verse, both when he smites the threat'ning bull,

And when he spreads his reeking entrails wide

To scrutinize the Fates envelop'd there.

We too, ourselves, what time we seek again

Our native skies, and one eternal Now

Shall be the only measure of our Being,

Crown'd all with gold, and chanting to the lyre

Harmonious verse, shall range the courts above,

And make the starry firmament resound.

And, even now, the fiery Spirit pure

That wheels yon circling orbs, directs, himself,

Their mazy dance with melody of verse

Unutt'rable, immortal, hearing which

Huge Ophiuchus^[125] holds his hiss suppress'd,

Orion, soften'd, drops his ardent blade,

And Atlas stands unconscious of his load.

Verse graced of old the feasts of kings, ere yet

Luxurious dainties destin'd to the gulph

Immense of gluttony were known, and ere

Lyaeus^[126] deluged yet the temp'rate board.

Then sat the bard a customary guest

To share the banquet, and, his length of locks

With beechen honours bound, proposed in verse

The characters of Heroes and their deeds

To imitation, sang of Chaos old,

Of Nature's birth, of Gods that crept in search

Of acorns fall'n, and of the thunderbolt

Not yet produc'd from Aetna's fiery cave.

And what avails, at last, tune without voice,

Devoid of matter? Such may suit perhaps

The rural dance, but such was ne'er the song

Of Orpheus, whom the streams stood still to hear

And the oaks follow'd. Not by chords alone

Well–touch'd, but by resistless accents more

To sympathetic tears the Ghosts themselves

He mov'd: these praises to his verse he owes.

Nor Thou persist, I pray thee, still to slight

The sacred Nine, and to imagine vain

And useless, Pow'rs by whom inspir'd, thyself

Art skillfill to associate verse with airs

Harmonious, and to give the human voice

A thousand modulations, heir by right

Indisputable of Arion's fame.^[127]

Now say, what wonder is it, if a son

Of thine delight in verse, if so conjoin'd

In close affinity, we sympathize

In social arts and kindred studies sweet?

Such distribution of himself to us

Was Phoebus' choice; thou hast thy gift, and I

Mine also, and between us we receive,

Father and son, the whole inspiring God.

No. Howsoe'er the semblance thou assume

Of hate, thou hatest not the gentle Muse,

My Father! for thou never bad'st me tread

The beaten path and broad that leads right on

To opulence, nor did'st condemn thy son

To the insipid clamours of the bar,

To laws voluminous and ill observ'd,

But, wishing to enrich me more, to fill

My mind with treasure, led'st me far away

From city–din to deep retreats, to banks

And streams Aonian,^[128] and, with free consent

Didst place me happy at Apollo's side.

I speak not now, on more important themes

Intent, of common benefits, and such

As Nature bids, but of thy larger gifts

My Father! who, when I had open'd once

The stores of Roman rhetoric, and learn'd

The full–ton'd language, of the eloquent Greeks,

Whose lofty music grac'd the lips of Jove,

Thyself did'st counsel me to add the flow'rs

That Gallia^[129] boasts, those too with which the smooth

Italian his degentrate speech adorns,

That witnesses his mixture with the Goth,

And Palestine's prophetic songs divine.^[130]

To sum the whole, whate'er the Heav'n contains,

The Earth beneath it, and the Air between,

The Rivers and the restless deep, may all

Prove intellectual gain to me, my wish

Concurring with thy will; Science herself,

All cloud removed, inclines her beauteous head

And offers me the lip, if, dull of heart,

I shrink not and decline her gracious boon.

Go now, and gather dross, ye sordid minds

That covet it; what could my Father more,

What more could Jove himself, unless he gave

His own abode, the heav'n in which he reigns?

More eligible gifts than these were not

Apollo's to his son, had they been safe

As they were insecure, who made the boy

The world's vice–luminary, bade him rule

The radiant chariot of the day, and bind

To his young brows his own all dazzling–wreath.

I therefore, although last and least, my place

Among the Learned in the laurel–grove

Will hold, and where the conqu'ror's ivy twines,

Henceforth exempt from th'unletter'd throng

Profane, nor even to be seen by such.

Away then, sleepless Care, Complaint away,

And Envy, with thy "jealous leer malign"

Nor let the monster Calumny shoot forth

Her venom'd tongue at me. Detested foes!

Ye all are impotent against my peace,

For I am privileged, and bear my breast

Safe, and too high, for your viperean wound.

But thou my Father! since to render thanks

Equivalent, and to requite by deeds

Thy liberality, exceeds my power,

Sufffice it, that I thus record thy gifts,

And bear them treasur'd in a grateful mind!

Ye too, the favourite pastime of my youth,

My voluntary numbers, if ye dare

To hope longevity, and to survive

Your master's funeral pile, not soon absorb'd

In the oblivious Lethaean gulph

Shall to Futurity perhaps convey

This theme, and by these praises of my sire

Improve the Fathers of a distant age.

When Israel by Jehovah call'd

From Egypt's hostile plain,

Pour'd forth in numbers as the Sand

And sought the adjacent main:

Then God descended from on high

To lead the favour'd Race

To rule o'er Jacob, & his Name

In Judah's Tribe to place.

The Sea at their approach alarm'd

In wild amazement fled

And Jordan's flood was driven back

Within it's fountainhead.

The Mountains from their basis shook

Confess'd the Parent God!

With sudden throws like Rams they skipp'd

And broken, fell abroad.

The little Hills by the same power

Were from their Center torn

Like Lambs resistless they gave way

In Tumult wild, upborn.

Ye Waves what strange amazement, say,

Seiz'd on you that you fled?

Thou Jordan too! On Israel's march,

Why driven to thy Head?

Ye Mountains whence this sudden fright

That shook you from your base?

And whence, ye little Hills, your flight

From Israel's chosen Race?

Tremble thou Earth! Jehovah leads,

And guards the might Host!

That God, who by his awful Word,

Commands the Stream to flow^[132]

From flinty Rocks; & pouring thence,

To form the Lake below.

When the blest seed of Terah's faithful Son,^[133]

After long toil their liberty had won,

And past from Pharian^[134] fields to Canaan Land,

Led by the strength of the Almighty's hand,

Jehovah's wonders were in Israel shown,

His praise and glory was in Israel known.

That saw the troubl'd Sea, and shivering fled,

And sought to hide his froth–becurled head

Low in the earth, Jordan's clear streams recoil,

As a faint host that hath receiv'd the foil.

The high, huge–bellied Mountains skip like Rams

Amongst their Ewes, the little Hills like Lambs.

Why fled the Ocean? And why skip'd the Mountains?

Why turned Jordan toward his Crystal Fountains?

Shake earth, and at the presence be aghast

Of him that ever was, and ay shall last,

That glassy floods from rugged rocks can crush,

And make soft rills from the fiery flint–stones gush.

Know this, O King! that if thou shalt destroy

Me, no man's enemy and who have liv'd

Obedient to the Laws, thou may'st with ease

Strike off a wise man's head, but, taught the truth

Hereafter, shalt with vain regret deplore

Thy city's loss of One, her chief support.

Survey my Features—you will own it clear

That little skill has been exerted here.

My Friends, who know me not here smile to see

How ill the model and the work agree.

Another Translation of the Same.

Look on myself—you will own at once

This Copy of me, taken by a Dunce.

My Friends, who gaze and guess not whom ye see,

Laugh! Would ye think it? He intended me!

My halting Muse, that dragg'st by choice along

Thy slow, slow step, in melancholy song!

And lik'st that pace expressive of thy cares

Not less than Diopeia's^[137] sprightlier airs

When in the dance she beats with measur'd tread

Heav'n's floor in front of Juno's golden bed,

Salute Salsillus, who to verse divine

Prefers, with partial love, such lays as mine.

Thus writes that Milton then, who wafted o'er

From his own nest on Albion's stormy shore

Where Eurus, fiercest of th'Aeolian band,

Sweeps with ungovern'd rage the blasted land,

Of late to more serene Ausonia came

To view her cities of illustrious name,

To prove, himself a witness of the truth,

How wise her elders, and how learn'd her Youth.

Much good, Salsillus! and a body free

From all disease, that Milton asks for thee,

Who now endur'st the languor, and the pains

That bile inflicts diffus'd through all thy veins,

Relentless malady! not mov'd to spare

By thy sweet Roman voice, and Lesbian air!

Health, Hebe's sister, sent us from the skies,

And thou, Apollo, whom all sickness flies,

Pythius, or Paean, or what name divine

Soe'er thou chuse, haste, heal a priest of thine!

Ye groves of Faunus, and ye hills that melt

With vinous dews, where meek Evander^[138] dwelt!

If aught salubrious in your confines grow,

Strive which shall soonest heal your poet's woe,

That, render'd to the Muse he loves, again

He may enchant the meadows with his strain.

Numa, reclin'd in everlasting ease

Amid the shade of dark embow'ring trees,

Viewing with eyes of unabated fire

His loved Aegeria, shall that strain admire:

So sooth'd, the tumid Tiber shall revere

The tombs of kings, nor desolate the year,

Shall curb his waters with a friendly rein,

And guide them harmless till they meet the main.

These verses also to thy praise the Nine^[140]

Oh Manso! happy in that theme design,

For, Gallus and Maecenas^[141] gone, they see

None such besides, or whom they love as Thee,

And, if my verse may give the meed of fame,

Thine too shall prove an everlasting name.

Already such, it shines in Tasso's page

(For thou wast Tasso's friend) from age to age,

And, next, the Muse consign'd, not unaware

How high the charge, Marini^[142] to thy care,

Who, singing, to the nymphs, Adonis' praise,

Boasts thee the patron of his copious lays.

To thee alone the Poet would entrust

His latest vows, to thee alone his dust,

And Thou with punctual piety hast paid

In labour'd brass thy tribute to his shade.

Nor this contented thee–but lest the grave

Should aught absorb of their's, which thou could'st save,

All future ages thou has deign'd to teach

The life, lot, genius, character of each,

Eloquent as the Carian sage,^[143] who, true

To his great theme, the Life of Homer drew.

I, therefore, though a stranger youth, who come

Chill'd by rude blasts that freeze my Northern home,

Thee dear to Clio confident proclaim,

And Thine, for Phoebus' sake, a deathless name.

Nor Thou, so kind, wilt view with scornful eye

A Muse scarce rear'd beneath our sullen sky,

Who fears not, indiscrete as she is young,

To seek in Latium hearers of her song.

We too, where Thames with his unsullied waves

The tresses of the blue–hair'd Ocean laves,

Hear oft by night, or, slumb'ring, seem to hear

O'er his wide stream, the swan's voice warbling clear,

And we could boast a Tityrus^[144] of yore,

Who trod, a welcome guest, your happy shore.

Yes, dreary as we own our Northern clime,

E'en we to Phoebus raise the polish'd rhyme,

We too serve Phoebus; Phoebus has receiv'd,

(If legends old may claim to be believ'd)

No sordid gifts from us, the golden ear,

The burnish'd apple, ruddiest of the year,

The fragrant crocus, and, to grace his fane,

Fair damsels chosen from the Druid train–

Druids, our native bards in ancient time,

Who Gods and Heroes prais'd in hallow'd rhyme.

Hence, often as the maids of Greece surround

Apollo's shrine with hymns of festive sound,

They name the virgins who arriv'd of yore

With British off'rings on the Delian shore,

Loxo, from Giant Corineus sprung,

Upis, on whose blest lips the Future hung,

And Hecaerge^[145] with the golden hair,

All deck'd with Pic'ish hues, and all with bosoms bare.

Thou therefore, happy Sage, whatever clime

Shall ring with Tasso's praise in after–time,

Or with Marini's, shalt be known their friend,

And with an equal flight to fame ascend.

The world shall hear how Phoebus and the Nine

Were inmates, once, and willing guests of thine.

Yet Phoebus, when of old constrain'd to roam

The earth, an exile from his heav'nly home,

Enter'd, no willing guest, Admetus'^[146] door,

Though Hercules had enter'd there before.

But gentle Chiron's^[147] cave was near, a scene

Of rural peace, clothed with perpetual green,

And thither, oft as respite he requir'd

From rustic clamours loud, the God retir'd.

There, many a time, on Peneus' bank reclin'd

At some oak's root, with ivy thick entwin'd,

Won by his hospitable friend's desire

He sooth'd his pains of exile with the lyre.

Then shook the hills, then trembled Peneus' shore,

Nor Oeta^[148] felt his load of forests more,

The upland elms descended to the plain,^[149]

And soften'd lynxes wonder'd at the strain.

Well may we think, O dear to all above!

Thy birth distinguish'd by the smile of Jove,

And that Apollo shed his kindliest pow'r,

And Maia's son,^[150] on that propitious hour,

Since only minds so born can comprehend

A poet's worth, or yield that worth a friend.

Hence, on thy yet unfaded cheek appears

The ling'ring freshness of thy greener years,

Hence, in thy front, and features, we admire

Nature unwither'd, and a mind entire.

Oh might so true a friend to me belong,

So skill'd to grace the votaries of song,

Should I recall hereafter into rhyme

The kings, and heroes of my native clime,

Arthur the chief, who even now prepares,

In subterraneous being, future wars,

With all his martial Knights, to be restor'd

Each to his seat around the fed'ral board,

And Oh, if spirit fail me not, disperse

Our Saxon plund'rers in triumphant verse!

Then, after all, when, with the Past content,

A life I finish, not in silence spent,

Should he, kind mourner, o'er my deathbed bend

I shall but need to say—"Be yet my friend!"

He, faithful to my dust, with kind concern

Shall place it gently in a modest urn;

He too, perhaps, shall bid the marble breathe

To honour me, and with the graceful wreath^[151]

Or of Parnassus or the Paphian isle

Shall bind my brows—but I shall rest the while.

Then also, if the fruits of Faith endure,

And Virtue's promis'd recompense be sure,

Borne to those seats, to which the blest aspire

By purity of soul, and virtuous fire,

These rites, as Fate permits, I shall survey

With eyes illumin'd by celestial day,

And, ev'ry cloud from my pure spirit driv'n,

Joy in the bright beatitude of Heav'n!

Ye Nymphs of Himera^[152] (for ye have shed

Erewhile for Daphnis^[153] and for Hylas dead,

And over Bion's long–lamented bier,

The fruitless meed of many a sacred tear)

Now, through the villas laved by Thames rehearse

The woes of Thyrsis in Sicilian verse,

What sighs he heav'd, and how with groans profound

He made the woods and hollow rocks resound

Young Damon dead; nor even ceased to pour

His lonely sorrows at the midnight hour.

The green wheat twice had nodded in the ear,

And golden harvest twice enrich'd the year,

Since Damon's lips had gasp'd for vital air

The last, last time, nor Thyrsis yet was there;

For he, enamour'd of the Muse, remain'd

In Tuscan Fiorenza long detain'd,

But, stored at length with all he wish'd to learn,

For his flock's sake now hasted to return,

And when the shepherd had resumed his seat

At the elm's root within his old retreat,

Then 'twas his lot, then, all his loss to know,

And, from his burthen'd heart, he vented thus his woe.

Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due

To other cares than those of feeding you.

Alas! what Deities shall I suppose

In heav'n or earth concern'd for human woes,

Since, Oh my Damon! their severe decree

So soon condemns me to regret of Thee!

Depart'st thou thus, thy virtues unrepaid

With fame and honour, like a vulgar shade?

Let him forbid it, whose bright rod controls,

And sep'rates sordid from illustrious souls,

Drive far the rabble, and to Thee assign

A happier lot with spirits worthy thine!

Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due

To other cares than those of feeding you.

Whate'er befall, unless by cruel chance

The wolf first give me a forbidding glance,

Thou shalt not moulder undeplor'd, but long

Thy praise shall dwell on ev'ry shepherd's tongue;

To Daphnis first they shall delight to pay,

And, after Him, to thee the votive lay,

While Pales^[154] shall the flocks and pastures love,

Or Faunus to frequent the field or grove,

At least if antient piety and truth

With all the learned labours of thy youth

May serve thee aught, or to have left behind

A sorrowing friend, and of the tuneful kind.

Go, seek your home, my lambs, my thoughts are due

To other cares than those of feeding you.

Yes, Damon! such thy sure reward shall be,

But ah, what doom awaits unhappy me?

Who, now, my pains and perils shall divide,

As thou wast wont, for ever at my side,

Both when the rugged frost annoy'd our feet,

And when the herbage all was parch'd with heat,

Whether the grim wolf's ravage to prevent

Or the huge lion's, arm'd with darts we went?

Whose converse, now, shall calm my stormy day,

With charming song who, now, beguile my way?

Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due

To other cares than those of feeding you.

In whom shall I confide? Whose counsel find

A balmy med'cine for my troubled mind?

Or whose discourse with innocent delight

Shall fill me now, and cheat the wint'ry night,

While hisses on my hearth the pulpy pear,

And black'ning chesnuts start and crackle there,

While storms abroad the dreary meadows whelm,

And the wind thunders thro' the neighb'ring elm?

Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due

To other cares than those of feeding you.

Or who, when summer suns their summit reach,

And Pan sleeps hidden by the shelt'ring beech,

When shepherds disappear, Nymphs seek the sedge,

And the stretch'd rustic snores beneath the hedge,

Who then shall render me thy pleasant vein

Of Attic wit, thy jests, thy smiles again?

Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due

To other cares than those of feeding you.

Where glens and vales are thickest overgrown

With tangled boughs, I wander now alone

Till night descend, while blust'ring wind and show'r

Beat on my temples through the shatter'd bow'r.

Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due

To other cares than those of feeding you.

Alas, what rampant weeds now shame my fields,

And what a mildew'd crop the furrow yields!

My rambling vines unwedded to the trees

Bear shrivel'd grapes, my myrtles fail to please,

Nor please me more my flocks; they, slighted, turn

Their unavailing looks on me, and mourn.

Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due

To other cares than those of feeding you.

Aegon invites me to the hazel grove,

Amyntas, on the river's bank to rove,

And young Alphesiboeus to a seat

Where branching elms exclude the midday heat—

"Here fountains spring–here mossy hillocks rise—"

"Here Zephyr whispers and the stream replies—"

Thus each persuades, but deaf to ev'ry call

I gain the thickets, and escape them all.

Go, seek your home, my lambs; my thoughts are due

To other cares than those of feeding you.

Then Mopsus said (the same who reads so well

The voice of birds, and what the stars foretell,

For He by chance had noticed my return)

What means thy sullen mood, this deep concern?

Ah Thyrsis! thou art either crazed with love,

Or some sinister influence from above,

Dull Saturn's influence oft the shepherd rue,

His leaden shaft oblique has pierced thee through.

Go, go, my lambs, unpastur'd as ye are,

My thoughts are all now due to other care.

The Nymphs amazed my melancholy see,

And, Thyrsis! cry—what will become of thee?

What would'st thou, Thyrsis? such should not appear

The brow of youth, stern, gloomy, and severe,

Brisk youth should laugh and love—ah shun the fate

Of those twice wretched mopes who love too late!

Go, go, my lambs, unpastur'd as ye are,

My thoughts are all now due to other care.

Aegle with Hyas came, to sooth my pain,

And Baucis' daughter, Dryope the vain,^[155]

Fair Dryope, for voice and finger neat

Known far and near, and for her self–conceit,

Came Chloris too, whose cottage on the lands

That skirt the Idumanian current stands;

But all in vain they came, and but to see

Kind words and comfortable lost on me.

Go, go, my lambs, unpastur'd as ye are,

My thoughts are all now due to other care.

Ah blest indiff'rence of the playful herd,

None by his fellow chosen or preferr'd!

No bonds of amity the flocks enthrall,

But each associates and is pleased with all;

So graze the dappled deer in num'rous droves,

And all his kind alike the zebra loves'

The same law governs where the billows roar

And Proteus' shoals o'erspread the desert shore;

The sparrow, meanest of the feather'd race,

His fit companion finds in ev'ry place,

With whom he picks the grain that suits him best,

Flits here and there, and late returns to rest,

And whom if chance the falcon make his prey,

Or Hedger with his well–aim'd arrow slay,

For no such loss the gay survivor grieves'

New love he seeks, and new delight receives.

We only, an obdurate kind, rejoice,

Scorning all others, in a single choice,

We scarce in thousands meet one kindred mind,

And if the long–sought good at last we find,

When least we fear it, Death our treasure steals,

And gives our heart a wound that nothing heals.

Go, go, my lambs, unpastur'd as ye are,

My thoughts are all now due to other care.

Ah, what delusion lured me from my flocks,

To traverse Alpine snows, and rugged rocks!

What need so great had I to visit Rome

Now sunk in ruins, and herself a tomb?

Or, had she flourish'd still as when, of old

For her sake Tityrus forsook his fold,

What need so great had I t'incur a pause

Of thy sweet intercourse for such a cause,

For such a cause to place the roaring sea,

Rocks, mountains, woods, between my friend and me?

Else, I had grasp'd thy feeble hand, composed

Thy decent limbs, thy drooping eye–lids closed,

And, at the last, had said—Farewell—Ascend—

Nor even in the skies forget thy friend.

Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare,

My thoughts are all now due to other care.

Although well–pleas'd, ye tuneful Tuscan swains!

My mind the mem'ry of your worth retains,

Yet not your worth can teach me less to mourn

My Damon lost—He too was Tuscan born,

Born in your Lucca, city of renown,

And Wit possess'd and Genius like your own.

Oh how elate was I, when, stretch'd beside

The murm'ring course of Arno's breezy tide,

Beneath the poplar–grove I pass'd my hours,

Now cropping myrtles, and now vernal flow'rs,

And hearing, as I lay at ease along,

Your swains contending for the prize of song!

I also dared attempt (and, as it seems

Not much displeas'd attempting) various themes,

For even I can presents boast from you,

The shepherd's pipe and osier basket too,

And Dati and Francini both have made

My name familiar to the beechen shade,

And they are learn'd, and each in ev'ry place

Renown'd for song, and both of Lydian Race.

Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare,

My thoughts are all now due to other care.

While bright the dewy grass with moon–beams shone,

And I stood hurdling in my kids alone,

How often have I said (but thou had'st found

Ere then thy dark cold lodgment under–ground)

Now Damon sings, or springes sets for hares,

Or wicker–work for various use prepares!

How oft, indulging Fancy, have I plann'd

New scenes of pleasure, that I hop'd at hand,

Call'd thee abroad as I was wont, and cried—

What hoa, my friend—come, lay thy task aside—

Haste, let us forth together, and beguile

The heat beneath yon whisp'ring shades awhile,

Or on the margin stray of Colne's^[156] clear flood,

Or where Cassivelan's grey turrets stood!

There thou shalt cull me simples, and shalt teach

Thy friend the name and healing pow'rs of each,

From the tall blue–bell to the dwarfish weed,

What the dry land and what the marshes breed,

For all their kinds alike to thee are known,

And the whole art of Galen^[157] is thy own.

Ah, perish Galen's art, and wither'd be

The useless herbs that gave not health to thee!

Twelve evenings since, as in poetic dream

I meditating sat some statelier theme,

The reeds no sooner touch'd my lip, though new

And unassay'd before, than wide they flew,

Bursting their waxen bands, nor could sustain

The deep–ton'd music of the solemn strain;

And I am vain perhaps, but will tell

How proud a theme I choose—ye groves farewell!

Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare,

My thoughts are all now due to other care.

Of Brutus, Dardan Chief, my song shall be,^[158]

How with his barks he plough'd the British sea,

First from Rutupia's tow'ring headland seen,

And of his consort's reign, fair Imogen;

Of Brennus and Belinus, brothers bold,^[159]

And of Arviragus, and how of old

Our hardy sires th'Armorican controll'd,

And the wife of Gorlois, who, surprised

By Uther in her husband's form disguised,

(Such was the force of Merlin's art) became

Pregnant with Arthur of heroic fame.^[160]

These themes I now revolve—and Oh—if Fate

Proportion to these themes my lengthen'd date,

Adieu my shepherd's–reed—yon pine–tree bough

Shall be thy future home, there dangle Thou

Forgotten and disus'd, unless ere long

Thou change thy Latin for a British song.

A British?—even so—the pow'rs of Man

Are bounded; little is the most he can,

And it shall well suffice me, and shall be

Fame and proud recompense enough for me,

If Usa^[161] golden–hair'd my verse may learn,

If Alain, bending o'er his chrystal urn,

Swift–whirling Abra, Trent's o'ershadow'd stream,

Thames, lovelier far than all in my esteem

Tamar's ore–tinctur'd flood, and, after these,

The wave–worn shores of utmost Orcades

Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare,

My thoughts are all now due to other care.

All this I kept in leaves of laurel–rind

Enfolded safe, and for thy view design'd,

This—and a gift from Manso's hand beside,

(Manso, not least his native city's pride)

Two cups, that radiant as their giver shone,

Adorn'd by sculpture with a double zone.

The spring was graven there; here, slowly wind

The Red–Sea shores with groves of spices lined;

Her plumes of various hues amid the boughs

The sacred, solitary Phoenix shows,

And, watchful of the dawn, reverts her head

To see Aurora^[162] leave her wat'ry bed.

In other part, th'expansive vault above,

And there too, even there, the God of love;

With quiver arm'd he mounts, his torch displays

A vivid light, his gem–tip'd arrows blaze,

Around, his bright and fiery eyes he rolls,

Nor aims at vulgar minds or little souls

Nor deigns one look below, but aiming high

Sends every arrow to the lofty sky,

Hence, forms divine, and minds immortal learn

The pow'r of Cupid, and enamour'd burn.

Thou also Damon (neither need I fear

That hope delusive) thou art also there;

For whither should simplicity like thine

Retire, where else such spotless virtue shine?

Thou dwell'st not (thought profane) in shades below,

Nor tears suit thee—cease then my tears to flow,

Away with grief on Damon ill–bestow'd,

Who, pure himself, has found a pure abode,

Has pass'd the show'ry arch, henceforth resides

With saints and heroes, and from flowing tides

Quaffs copious immortality and joy

With hallow'd lips. Oh! blest without alloy,

And now enrich'd with all that faith can claim,

Look down entreated by whatever name,

If Damon please thee most (that rural sound)

Shall oft with ecchoes fill the groves around)

Or if Diodatus, by which alone

In those ethereal mansions thou art known.

Thy blush was maiden, and thy youth the taste

Of wedded bliss knew never, pure and chaste,

The honours, therefore, by divine decree

The lot of virgin worth are giv'n to thee;

Thy brows encircled with a radiant band,

And the green palm–branch waving in thy hand

Thou immortal Nuptials shalt rejoice

And join with seraphs thy according voice,

Where rapture reigns, and the ecstatic lyre

Guides the blest orgies of the blazing quire.

Strophe I

My two–fold Book! single in show

But double in Contents,

Neat, but not curiously adorn'd

Which in his early youth,

A poet gave, no lofty one in truth

Although an earnest wooer of the Muse—

Say, while in cool Ausonian^[164] shades

Or British wilds he roam'd,

Striking by turns his native lyre,

By turns the Daunian lute

And stepp'd almost in air,—

Antistrophe

Say, little book, what furtive hand

Thee from thy fellow books convey'd,

What time, at the repeated suit

Of my most learned Friend,

I sent thee forth an honour'd traveller

From our great city to the source of Thames,

Caerulean sire!

Where rise the fountains and the raptures ring,

Of the Aonian choir,^[165]

Durable as yonder spheres,

And through the endless lapse of years

Secure to be admired?

Strophe II

Now what God or Demigod

For Britain's ancient Genius mov'd

(If our afflicted land

Have expiated at length the guilty sloth

Of her degen'rate sons)

Shall terminate our impious feuds,

And discipline, with hallow'd voice, recall?

Recall the Muses too

Driv'n from their antient seats

In Albion, and well–nigh from Albion's shore,

And with keen Phoebean shafts

Piercing th'unseemly birds,

Whose talons menace us

Shall drive the harpy race from Helicon afar?

Antistrophe

But thou, my book, though thou hast stray'd,

Whether by treach'ry lost

Or indolent neglect, thy bearer's fault,

From all thy kindred books,

To some dark cell or cave forlorn,

Where thou endur'st, perhaps,

The chafing of some hard untutor'd hand,

Be comforted—

For lo! again the splendid hope appears

That thou may'st yet escape

The gulphs of Lethe, and on oary wings

Mount to the everlasting courts of Jove,

Strophe III

Since Rouse desires thee, and complains

That, though by promise his,

Thou yet appear'st not in thy place

Among the literary noble stores

Giv'n to his care,

But, absent, leav'st his numbers incomplete.

He, therefore, guardian vigilant

Of that unperishing wealth,

Calls thee to the interior shrine, his charge,

Where he intends a richer treasure far

Than Ion kept—(Ion, Erectheus' son^[166]

Illustrious, of the fair Creusa born)—

In the resplendent temple of his God,

Tripods of gold and Delphic gifts divine.

Antistrophe

Haste, then, to the pleasant groves,

The Muses' fav'rite haunt;

Resume thy station in Apollo's dome,

Dearer to him

Than Delos, or the fork'd Parnassian hill.

Exulting go,

Since now a splendid lot is also thine,

And thou art sought by my propitious friend;

For There thou shalt be read

With authors of exalted note,

The ancient glorious Lights of Greece and Rome.

Epode

Ye, then my works, no longer vain

And worthless deem'd by me!

Whate'er this steril genius has produc'd

Expect, at last, the rage of Envy spent,

An unmolested happy home,

Gift of kind Hermes and my watchful friend,

Where never flippant tongue profane

Shall entrance find,

And whence the coarse unletter'd multitude

Shall babble far remote.

Perhaps some future distant age

Less tinged with prejudice and better taught

Shall furnish minds of pow'r

To judge more equally.

Then, malice silenced in the tomb,

Cooler heads and sounder hearts,

Thanks to Rouse, if aught of praise

I merit, shall with candour weigh the claim.

Quales aerii montis de vertice nubes

Cum surgunt, et jam Boreae tumida ora quierunt,

Caelum hilares abdit spissa caligine vultus,

Nimbosumque nives aut imbres cogitat aether:

Tum si jucundo tandem sol prodeat ore,

Et croceo montes et pascua lumine tingat,

Gaudent omnia, aves mulcent concentibus agros,

Balatuque ovium colles vallesque resultant.