The Poetical Works of John Langhorne ... To which are prefixed, Memoirs of the Author by his Son the Rev. J. T. Langhorne ... In Two Volumes |
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THE DEATH OF ADONIS.
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The Poetical Works of John Langhorne | ||
THE DEATH OF ADONIS.
FROM THE GREEK OF BION.
Adonis dead, the weeping Loves return.
The Queen of Beauty o'er his tomb shall shed
Her flowing sorrows for Adonis dead;
And robes of purple for the weeds of woe.
Adonis dead, the muse of woe shall mourn;
Adonis dead, the weeping Loves return.
Stretch'd on this mountain thy torn lover lies.
Weep, Queen of Beauty! for he bleeds—he dies.
In streams of purple, o'er those limbs of snow!
From the pale cheek the perish'd roses fly;
And death dims slow the ghastly-gazing eye.
Kiss, kiss those fading lips, ere chill'd in death;
With soothing fondness stay the fleeting breath.
'Tis vain—ah! give the soothing fondness o'er!
Adonis feels the warm salute no more.
Adonis dead, the muse of woe shall mourn;
Adonis dead, the weeping Loves return.
His faithful dogs bewail their master slain,
And mourning dryads pour the plaintive strain.
The Queen of Beauty bears it in her breast.
Her feet unsandal'd, floating wild her hair,
Her aspect woeful, and her bosom bare,
Distrest, she wanders the wild wastes forlorn,
Her sacred limbs by ruthless brambles torn.
Loud as she grieves, surrounding rocks complain,
And echo thro' the long vales calls her absent swain.
Adonis hears not: life's last drops fall slow,
In streams of purple, down his limbs of snow.
The weeping Cupids round their queen deplore,
And mourn her beauty, and her love no more.
Each rival grace, that glow'd with conscious pride,
Each charm of Venus with Adonis dy'd.
And hollow groves return the sadd'ning groan.
The swelling floods with sea-born Venus weep,
And roll in mournful murmurs to the deep:
The flowers, low-drooping, blush with grief, and die.
Cythera's groves with strains of sorrow ring;
The dirge funereal her sad cities sing.
Hark! pitying echoes Venus' sighs return;
When Venus sighs, can aught forbear to mourn?
The wide wound gaping on the with'ring thigh;
But streaming when she saw life's purple tide,
Stretch'd her fair arms, with trembling voice she cry'd:
O let me kiss thee!—hold thee to my heart!
A little moment, dear Adonis! stay!
And kiss thy Venus, ere those lips are clay.
Let those dear lips by mine once more be prest,
'Till thy last breath expire into my breast;
Then, when life's ebbing pulse scarce, scarce can move,
I'll catch thy soul, and drink thy dying love.
That last-left pledge shall sooth my tortur'd breast,
When thou art gone—
When, far from me, thy gentle ghost explores
Infernal Pluto's grimly-glooming shores.
In life imprison'd whom the fates confine.
He comes! receive him to thine iron-arms;
Blest Queen of Death! receive the Prince of Charms.
Far happier thou, to whose wide realms repair
Whatever lovely, and whatever fair.
The smiles of joy, the golden hours are fled:
Grief, only grief, survives Adonis dead.
And the dim torch falls from the vacant hand.
Hence the vain zone! the myrtle's flow'ry pride!
Delight and beauty with Adonis died.
From his dark lair to rouze the tusky boar?
Than the rude combat, or the savage fray.
And mourn her beauty, and her love no more.
Now flowing tears in silent grief complain,
Mix with the purple streams, and flood the plain.
Yet not in vain those sacred drops shall flow,
The purple streams in blushing roses glow:
And catching life from ev'ry falling tear,
Their azure heads anemonies shall rear.
Nor mourn unpitied to the mountain-air;
The last sad office let thy hand supply,
Stretch the stiff limbs, and close the glaring eye.
That form repos'd beneath the bridal vest,
May cheat thy sorrows with the feint of rest.
For lovely smile those lips, tho' void of breath,
And fair those features in the shade of death.
Haste, fill with flowers, with rosy wreathes his bed.
Perish the flowers! the Prince of Beauty's dead.
Round the pale corse each breathing essence strew,
Let weeping myrtles pour their balmy dew.
Perish the balms, unable to restore
Those vital sweets of love that charm no more!
In mournful state the clay-cold limbs are laid.
Stamp on the dart, and break the useless bow.
Officious these the wat'ry urn supply,
Unbind the buskin'd leg, and wash the bleeding thigh.
O'er the pale body those their light wings wave,
As yet, tho' vain, solicitous to save.
And mourn her beauty, and her love no more.
Dejected Hymen droops his head forlorn,
His torch extinct, and flow'ry tresses torn:
For nuptial airs, and songs of joy, remain
The sad, slow dirge, the sorrow-breathing strain.
Who wou'd not, when Adonis dies, deplore?
Who wou'd not weep when Hymen smiles no more?
The graces mourn the Prince of Beauty slain,
Loud as Dione on her native main:
The fates relenting join the general woe,
And call the lover from the realms below.
Vain, hopeless grief! can living sounds pervade
The dark, dead regions of eternal shade?
Spare, Venus, spare that too luxuriant tear
For the long sorrows of the mournful year.
Bion, the pastoral poet, lived in the time of Ptolemy Philadelphus. By the epithet Σμυρναιος, every where applied to him, it is probable that he was born at Smyrna. Moschus confirms this, when he says to the river Meles, which had before wept for Homer,
------Νυν παλιν αλλονΥιεα δακρυεις------
It is evident, however, that he spent much of his time in Sicily. Moschus, as he tells us, was his scholar; and by him we are informed, that his master was not a poor poet. “Thou hast left to others thy riches,” says he, “but to me thy poetry.” It appears from the same author, that he died by poison. The best edition of his works, is that of Paris, by M.de Longe-Pierre, with a French translation.
Adonis, the favourite of Venus, was the son of Cynaras, king of Cyprus. His chief employment was hunting, though he is represented by Virgil as a shepherd,
“Oves ad flumina pavit Adonis.”He was killed by a wild boar, if we may believe Propertius, in Cyprus.
------“Percussit Adonim“Venantem idalio vertice durus Aper.”
The anniversary of his death was celebrated through the whole Pagan world. Aristophanes, in his Comedy of Peace, reckons the feast of Adonis among the chief festivals of the Athenians. The Syrians observed it with all the violence of grief, and the greatest cruelty of self-castigation. It was celebrated at Alexandria in St. Cyril's time; and when Julian the apostate made his entry at Antioch, in the year 362, they were celebrating the feast of Adonis.
The ancients differ greatly in their accounts of this divinity. Athenæus says, that he was the favourite of Bacchus. Plutarch maintains, that he and Bacchus are the same, and that the Jews abstained from swine's flesh because Adonis was killed by a boar. Ausonius, Epig.30, affirms that Bacchus, Osiris, and Adonis, are one and the same.
The lines in the original run thus:
Αγριον αγριον ελκος εχει κατα μηρον Αδονις.Μειζον δ' α Κυθερεια φερει ποτι καρδιον ελκος.
Κεινον μεν περι παιδα φιλοι κυνες ωρυσαντο,
Και Νυμφαι κλαιουσιν ορειαδες.
The two first of these lines contain a kind of witticism, which it was better to avoid—This author had, however, too much true genius to be fond of these little affected turns of expression, which Musæus and others have been industrious to strike out.
These four verses are transposed in the translation for the sake of the connection.
This image of the sorrow of Venus is very affecting, and is introduced in this place with great beauty and propriety. Indeed, most modern poets seem to have observed it, and have profited by it in their scenes of elegiac woe.
When the poet makes the rivers mourn for Venus, he very properly calls her Αφροδιτα; but this propriety perhaps was merely accidental, as he has given her the same appellation when she wanders the desart.
Paleness being the known effect of grief, we do not at first sight accept this expression; but when we consider that the first emotions of it are attended with blushes, we are pleased with the observation.
Παντας ανα κναμως και ανα πτολιν οικτρον αειδει.
This passage the scholiasts have entirely misunderstood. They make Κυθηρη Venus, for which they have neither any authority, the Doric name she borrows from that island being always Κυθερεια, nor the least probability from the connection.
This proves that the island Cythera was the place where Adonis perished, notwithstanding the opinion of Propertius and others to the contrary.
The Poetical Works of John Langhorne | ||