University of Virginia Library

THE SPEECH OF PROTEUS TO ARISTÆUS,

CONTAINING THE STORY OF ORPHEUS AND EURIDICE;

Translated from the fourth Book of Virgil's Georgics.

A Collegiate Exercise: Written, Anno 1770.

BY THE SAME.

A God pursues thee with immortal hate,
By crimes provok'd that prompt the wrath of fate.
In guiltless woe the hapless Orpheus died,
And calls the powers to avenge his injur'd bride.
Along the streams, with flying steps she strove,
To shun the fury of thy lawless love;
Unhappy fair! nor on the fated way
Saw the dire snake that ambush'd for her prey.
Her sister Dryades wail'd the fatal wound;
The lofty hills their melting cries resound;
Then wept the rocks of Rhodope, the towers
Of high Pangæus, and the Rhesian shores;
The mournful sounds the Attic lands convey,
And Hebrus rolls in sadden'd waves away.

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He, on his lyre, essay'd with tuneful art,
To sooth the ceaseless anguish of his heart;
Thee, his fair bride, to lonely grief a prey,
Thee sung at rising, and at falling day:
Then sought the realms of death and Stygian Jove,
Thro black'ning horrors of the infernal grove,
Mid direful ghosts, and powers of deep despair,
Unknown to pity, and unmov'd by prayer.
From hell's dark shores, to Orpheus' melting song,
On every side the gloomy nations throng;
Thin, airy shades, pale spectres void of light,
Like fancied forms that glide athwart the night.
As flitting birds in summer's chequer'd shade,
Dance on the boughs, and flutter thro the glade,
Or seek the woods when night descends amain,
And pours in storms along the wintry plain:
Men, matrons, round the sweet musician press'd,
The spouseless maidens, and the youths unblest,
Snatch'd from their parents' eyes, or doom'd to yeild
To war's dire combats on the bloody field;
Whom the deep fens, that drain the moory ground,
And black Cocytus reedy lake surround,
Where baleful Styx her mournful margin laves,
And deadly Lethe rolls the oblivious waves.
Hell heard the song; and fix'd in deep amaze,
On the sweet bard the snaky Furies gaze;
Grim Cerberus hung entranc'd; and ceas'd to reel
The giddy circle of Ixion's wheel.
These dangers 'scap'd, he seeks the upper air,
Elate with joy, and follow'd by the fair:

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Such law the Fates impos'd: but doom'd to prove
The sudden madness of ill-omen'd love!
Could fate relent, or melt at human woe,
A venial crime, were venial aught below!
Light gleam'd at hand; the Stygian shades retire;
With wishes wild, and vanquish'd with desire,
His fears forgot, he turn'd; his lovely bride
Given to his hope, with trembling glance espy'd.
There end his joys, and vanish'd into air
His fancied raptures and his fruitless care,
Broke is the league—and thrice tremendous roars
The distant thunder on the infernal shores.
What rage, she cried, hath dash'd our joys again,
Pair'd in sad fates, and doom'd to endless pain.
I hear the voice that calls me back to woes,
My swimming eyes eternal slumbers close.
A last farewel! the infernal glooms arise,
And, wrapt in night, my parting spirit flies;
Vain my weak arms, extended to restore
The bridal hand, that must be thine no more.
She said, and vanish'd instant from his eye,
Like melting smoke that mingles with the sky.
No kind embrace, his deepening grief to allay,
No farewel word, tho much he wish'd to say,
Nor hope remain'd. Stern Charon now no more
Consents to waft him to the infernal shore.
Forever snatch'd from all his soul could love,
What prayers, what tears, what songs, the Fates could move?
Her, breathless, pale, to mansions of the grave,
The bark bore floating on the Stygian wave.

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In gelid caves, with horrid glooms array'd,
Where cloud-topt hills project an awful shade;
Along the margin of the desert shore,
Where lovely Strymon's rushing waters roar,
Seven hapless months he wail'd his fatal love,
His ravish'd bride, and blam'd the hand of Jove.
Stern tygers soften'd at the tuneful sound,
The thickets move, the forests dance around:
So in some poplar's shade, with soothing song,
Sad Philomela mourns her captive young;
When some rude swain hath found the unfeather'd prey,
Her nest despoil'd, and borne the prize away;
Thro the long night she breathes her plaintive strain,
The slow, deep moan resounds, and echoes o'er the plain.
Pleasure no more his soul estrang'd could move,
The charms of beauty, or the joys of love.
Alone he stray'd, where wintry Tanais flows,
Thro deserts whiten'd with eternal snows.
Mourn'd his lost bride, the infernal powers' deceit,
And curs'd the vain, illusive, gifts of fate.
When Bacchus' Orgies stain'd the midnight skies,
Their proffers scorn'd, the Thracian matrons rise;
Their hopeless rage the bleeding victim tore,
His sever'd limbs are scatter'd on the shore;
Rent from his breathless corse, swift Hebrus sweeps
His gory visage to the distant deeps.
Yet when cold death sate trembling on his tongue,
With fainting soul, Euridice he sung,
Ah dear, ah lost Euridice, he cries,
Euridice, the echoing shore replies.