 | The poetical works of Sir William Jones |  |
5
ODES.
AN ODE OF PETRARCH,
TO THE FOUNTAIN OF VALCHIUSA.
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 ;
6
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.
7
My anxious mind, and sooth
The pangs of that inevitable hour;
My spirit will not grieve
Her mortal veil to leave
In these calm shades, and this enchanting bow'r.
Haply the guilty maid
Through yon accustom'd 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,
8
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 rigor mild;
The young and blooming flowers,
Falling in fragrant showers,
Shone on her neck, and on her bosom smil'd:
Some on her mantle hung,
Some in her locks were strung,
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Some, in a spicy cloud
Descending, call'd aloud,
‘Here Love and Youth the reins of empire hold.’
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 I said, ‘Whence rose this glittering scene?’
10
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.
M. de Voltaire has given us a beautiful paraphrase of this first stanza, though it is certain that he had never read the ode in the original, or at most only the three first lines of it; for he asserts, that the Italian song is irregular; and without rhymes; whereas the stanzas are perfectly regular, and the rhymes very exact. His design was to give Madame du Chatelet, for whom he wrote his history, an idea of Petrarch's style but, if she had only read his imitation, she could have but an imperfect notion of the Italian, which the reader will easily perceive by comparing them.
12
AN ODE OF JAMI,
IN THE PERSIAN FORM AND MEASURE.
How sweet the gale of morning breathes!Sweet news of my delight he brings;
News, that the rose will soon approach
the tuneful bird of night, he brings.
Soon will a thousand parted souls
be led, his captives, through the sky,
Since tidings, which in every heart
must ardent flames excite, he brings.
Late near my charmer's flowing robe
he pass'd, and kiss'd the fragrant hem;
Thence, odour to the rose-bud's veil,
and jasmine's mantle white he brings.
Painful is absence, and that pain
to some base rival oft is ow'd;
Thou know'st, dear maid! when to thine ear
false tales, contriv'd in spite, he brings.
Why should I trace loves mazy path,
since destiny my bliss forbids?
Black destiny! my lot is woe,
to me no ray of light he brings.
In vain, a friend his mind disturbs,
in vain a childish trouble gives,
When sage physician to the couch,
of heartsick love-lorn wight, he brings.
A roving stranger in thy town
no guidance can sad Jami find,
Till this his name, and rambling lay
to thine all-piercing sight he brings.
13
THE MUSE RECALLED;
AN ODE ON THE NUPTIALS OF LORD VISCOUNT ALTHORP, AND MISS LAVINIA BINGHAM, ELDEST DAUGHTER OF CHARLES, LORD LUCAN, MARCH 6, 1781.
Return, celestial Muse!
By whose bright fingers o'er my infant head,
Lull'd with immortal symphony, were spread
Fresh bays and flow'rets of a thousand hues;
Return! thy golden lyre,
Chorded with sunny rays of temper'd fire,
Which in Astræa's fane I fondly hung,
Bold I reclaim: but ah! sweet maid,
Bereft of thy propitious aid,
My voice is tuneless, and my harp unstrung.
In vain I call—What charm, what potent spell
Shall kindle into life the long unwaken'd shell?
Haste! the well-wrought
basket bring,
Which two sister Graces wove,
When the third, whose praise I sing,
Blushing sought the bridal grove,
Where the slow-descending sun
Gilt the bow'rs of Wimbledon.
In the vase mysterious fling
Pinks and roses gemm'd with dew,
Flow'rs of ev'ry varied hue,
Daughters fair of early spring,
Laughing sweet with sapphire eyes,
Or with Iris' mingled dyes:
Then around the basket go,
Tripping light with silent pace,
While, with solemn voice and slow,
Thrice pronouncing thrice I trace
On the silken texture bright,
Character'd in beamy light,
Names of more than mortal pow'r,
Sweetest influence to diffuse;
Names, that from her shadiest bow'r
Draw the soft reluctant Muse.
By whose bright fingers o'er my infant head,
Lull'd with immortal symphony, were spread
Fresh bays and flow'rets of a thousand hues;
Return! thy golden lyre,
Chorded with sunny rays of temper'd fire,
Which in Astræa's fane I fondly hung,
Bold I reclaim: but ah! sweet maid,
Bereft of thy propitious aid,
My voice is tuneless, and my harp unstrung.
In vain I call—What charm, what potent spell
Shall kindle into life the long unwaken'd shell?
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Which two sister Graces wove,
When the third, whose praise I sing,
Blushing sought the bridal grove,
Where the slow-descending sun
Gilt the bow'rs of Wimbledon.
In the vase mysterious fling
Pinks and roses gemm'd with dew,
Flow'rs of ev'ry varied hue,
Daughters fair of early spring,
Laughing sweet with sapphire eyes,
Or with Iris' mingled dyes:
Then around the basket go,
Tripping light with silent pace,
While, with solemn voice and slow,
Thrice pronouncing thrice I trace
On the silken texture bright,
Character'd in beamy light,
Names of more than mortal pow'r,
Sweetest influence to diffuse;
Names, that from her shadiest bow'r
Draw the soft reluctant Muse.
First, I with living gems enchase
The name of her, whom for this festive day
With Zone and Mantle elegantly gay
The Graces have adorn'd, herself a Grace,
Molesworth—hark! a swelling note
Seems on Zephyr's wing to float,
Or has vain hope my flatter'd sense beguil'd?
Next her who braided many a flow'r
To deck her sister's nuptial bow'r,
Bingham, with gentle heart and aspect mild:
The charm prevails—I hear, I hear
Strains nearer yet, and yet more near.
Still ye nymphs and youths advance,
Sprinkle still the balmy show'r,
Mingle still the mazy dance,
Two names of unresisted pow'r,
Behold, in radiant characters I write:
O rise! O leave thy secret shrine,
For they, who all thy nymphal train outshine,
Duncannon , heavenly muse, and Devonshire invite.
The name of her, whom for this festive day
With Zone and Mantle elegantly gay
The Graces have adorn'd, herself a Grace,
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Seems on Zephyr's wing to float,
Or has vain hope my flatter'd sense beguil'd?
Next her who braided many a flow'r
To deck her sister's nuptial bow'r,
Bingham, with gentle heart and aspect mild:
The charm prevails—I hear, I hear
Strains nearer yet, and yet more near.
Still ye nymphs and youths advance,
Sprinkle still the balmy show'r,
Mingle still the mazy dance,
Two names of unresisted pow'r,
Behold, in radiant characters I write:
O rise! O leave thy secret shrine,
For they, who all thy nymphal train outshine,
Duncannon , heavenly muse, and Devonshire invite.
Saw ye not yon myrtle wave?
Heard ye not a warbled strain?
Yes! the harp which Clio gave,
Shall his ancient sound regain.
One dearer name remains. Prepare, prepare!
She comes—how swift th'impatient air
Drinks the rising accent sweet!
Soon the charm shall be complete.
Return and wake the silent string;
Return, sweet Muse, for Althorp bids me sing.
'Tis she—and, as she smiles, the breathing lyre
Leaps from his silken bands, and darts ethereal fire.
Heard ye not a warbled strain?
Yes! the harp which Clio gave,
Shall his ancient sound regain.
One dearer name remains. Prepare, prepare!
She comes—how swift th'impatient air
Drinks the rising accent sweet!
Soon the charm shall be complete.
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Return, sweet Muse, for Althorp bids me sing.
'Tis she—and, as she smiles, the breathing lyre
Leaps from his silken bands, and darts ethereal fire.
Bright son of ev'ning, lucid star,
Auspicious rise thy soften'd beam,
Admir'd ere Cynthia's pearly car
O'er heav'n's pure azure spreads her gleam:
Thou saw'st the blooming pair,
Like thee serenely fair,
By love united and the nuptial vow,
Thou see'st the mirthful train
Dance to th'unlabor'd strain,
See'st bound with myrtle ev'ry youthful brow.
Shine forth, ye silver eyes of night,
And gaze on virtues crown'd with treasures of delight.
Auspicious rise thy soften'd beam,
Admir'd ere Cynthia's pearly car
O'er heav'n's pure azure spreads her gleam:
Thou saw'st the blooming pair,
Like thee serenely fair,
By love united and the nuptial vow,
Thou see'st the mirthful train
Dance to th'unlabor'd strain,
See'st bound with myrtle ev'ry youthful brow.
Shine forth, ye silver eyes of night,
And gaze on virtues crown'd with treasures of delight.
And thou, the golden-tressed child of morn,
Whene'er thy all-inspiring heat
Bids bursting rose-buds hill and mead adorn,
See them with every gift that Jove bestows,
With ev'ry joy replete,
Save, when they melt at sight of human woes.
Flow smoothly, circling hours,
And o'er their heads unblended pleasure pour;
Nor let your fleeting round
Their mortal transports bound,
But fill their cup of bliss, eternal pow'rs,
Till Time himself shall cease, and suns shall blaze no more.
Each morn, reclin'd on many a rose,
Lavinia's pencil shall disclose
New forms of dignity and grace,
Th'expressive air, th'impassion'd face,
The curled smile, the bubbling tear,
The bloom of hope, the snow of fear,
To some poetic tale fresh beauty give,
And bid the starting tablet rise and live;
Or with swift fingers shall she touch the strings.
And in the magic loom of harmony
Notes of such wondrous texture weave,
As lift the soul on seraph wings,
Which, as they soar above the jasper sky,
Below them suns unknown and worlds unnumber'd leave.
Whene'er thy all-inspiring heat
Bids bursting rose-buds hill and mead adorn,
See them with every gift that Jove bestows,
With ev'ry joy replete,
Save, when they melt at sight of human woes.
Flow smoothly, circling hours,
And o'er their heads unblended pleasure pour;
Nor let your fleeting round
Their mortal transports bound,
But fill their cup of bliss, eternal pow'rs,
Till Time himself shall cease, and suns shall blaze no more.
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Lavinia's pencil shall disclose
New forms of dignity and grace,
Th'expressive air, th'impassion'd face,
The curled smile, the bubbling tear,
The bloom of hope, the snow of fear,
To some poetic tale fresh beauty give,
And bid the starting tablet rise and live;
Or with swift fingers shall she touch the strings.
And in the magic loom of harmony
Notes of such wondrous texture weave,
As lift the soul on seraph wings,
Which, as they soar above the jasper sky,
Below them suns unknown and worlds unnumber'd leave.
While thou by list'ning crowds approv'd,
Lov'd by the Muse and by the poet lov'd,
Althorp, shouldst emulate the fame
Of Roman Patriots and th'Athenian name;
Shouldst charm with full persuasive eloquence,
With all thy mother's grace, and all thy father's sense,
Th'applauding senate; whilst, above thy head,
Exulting Liberty should smile,
Then, bidding dragon-born contention cease,
Should knit the dance with meek-eyed peace,
And by thy voice impell'd should spread
An universal joy around her cherish'd isle.
But ah! thy public virtues, youth! are vain
In this voluptuous, this abandon'd age,
When Albion's sons with frantic rage,
In crimes alone and recreant baseness bold,
Freedom and Concord, with their weeping train,
Repudiate; slaves of vice, and slaves of gold!
They, on starry pinions sailing
Through the crystal fields of air,
Mourn their efforts unavailing,
Lost persuasions, fruitless care:
Truth, Justice, Reason, Valour, with them fly
To seek a purer soil, a more congenial sky.
Lov'd by the Muse and by the poet lov'd,
Althorp, shouldst emulate the fame
Of Roman Patriots and th'Athenian name;
Shouldst charm with full persuasive eloquence,
With all thy mother's grace, and all thy father's sense,
Th'applauding senate; whilst, above thy head,
Exulting Liberty should smile,
Then, bidding dragon-born contention cease,
Should knit the dance with meek-eyed peace,
18
An universal joy around her cherish'd isle.
But ah! thy public virtues, youth! are vain
In this voluptuous, this abandon'd age,
When Albion's sons with frantic rage,
In crimes alone and recreant baseness bold,
Freedom and Concord, with their weeping train,
Repudiate; slaves of vice, and slaves of gold!
They, on starry pinions sailing
Through the crystal fields of air,
Mourn their efforts unavailing,
Lost persuasions, fruitless care:
Truth, Justice, Reason, Valour, with them fly
To seek a purer soil, a more congenial sky.
Beyond the vast Atlantic deep
A dome by viewless Genii shall be raised,
The walls of adamant compact and steep,
The portals with sky-tinctur'd gems emblaz'd:
There on a lofty throne shall virtue stand;
To her the youth of Delaware shall kneel;
And, when her smiles rain plenty o'er the land,
Bow, tyrants, bow beneath th'avenging steel!
Commerce with fleets shall mock the waves,
And arts, that flourish not with slaves,
Dancing with every Grace and ev'ry Muse,
Shall bid the vallies laugh and heav'nly beams diffuse.
She ceases; and a strange delight
Still vibrates on my ravish'd ear:
What floods of glory drown my sight!
What scenes I view! what sounds I hear!
A dome by viewless Genii shall be raised,
The walls of adamant compact and steep,
The portals with sky-tinctur'd gems emblaz'd:
There on a lofty throne shall virtue stand;
To her the youth of Delaware shall kneel;
And, when her smiles rain plenty o'er the land,
Bow, tyrants, bow beneath th'avenging steel!
Commerce with fleets shall mock the waves,
And arts, that flourish not with slaves,
Dancing with every Grace and ev'ry Muse,
Shall bid the vallies laugh and heav'nly beams diffuse.
She ceases; and a strange delight
Still vibrates on my ravish'd ear:
What floods of glory drown my sight!
What scenes I view! what sounds I hear!
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This for my friend—but, gentle nymphs, no more
Dare I with spells divine the Muse recall:
Then, fatal harp, thy transient rapture o'er,
Calm I replace thee on the sacred wall.
Ah! see how lifeless hangs the lyre,
Not lightning now, but glitt'ring wire!
Me to the brawling bar and wrangles high
Bright-hair'd Sabrina calls and rosy-bosom'd Wye.
Dare I with spells divine the Muse recall:
Then, fatal harp, thy transient rapture o'er,
Calm I replace thee on the sacred wall.
Ah! see how lifeless hangs the lyre,
Not lightning now, but glitt'ring wire!
Me to the brawling bar and wrangles high
Bright-hair'd Sabrina calls and rosy-bosom'd Wye.
Miss Louisa Bingham, and Miss Frances Molesworth, her cousin, decked a basket with ribands and flowers to hold the nuptial presents.
Lady Henrietta Spencer, second daughter of John Earl Spencer, and wife of the Lord Viscount Duncannon, eldest son of the Earl of Besborough.
Lady Georgiana, eldest daughter of Earl Spencer, and wife of William Cavendish, fifth Duke of Devonshire.
Lady Althorp has an extraordinary talent for drawing historic subjects, and expressing the passions in the most simple manner.
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AN ODE IN IMITATION OF ALCÆUS.
Ου λιθοι, ουδε ξυλα, εδε
Τεχυη τεκτονων αι πολεις εισιν
Αλλ' οπου ποτ' αν ωσιν)/ ΑΝΔΡΕΣ
Αυτους σωζειν ειδοτες,
Ενταυθα τειχη και πολεις.
ALC. quoted by ARISTIDES.
Τεχυη τεκτονων αι πολεις εισιν
Αλλ' οπου ποτ' αν ωσιν)/ ΑΝΔΡΕΣ
Αυτους σωζειν ειδοτες,
Ενταυθα τειχη και πολεις.
ALC. quoted by ARISTIDES.
What constitutes a state?
Not high rais'd battlement or labor'd mound,
Thick wall or moated gate;
Not cities proud with spires and turrets crown'd;
Not bays and broad-arm'd ports,
Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride,
Not starr'd and spangled courts,
Where low-brow'd baseness wafts perfume to pride.
NO:—Men, high-minded Men,
With pow'rs as far above dull brutes endued,
In forest, brake, or den,
As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude;
Men, who their duties know,
But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain,
Prevent the long-aim'd blow,
And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain:
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And sov'reign Law, that state's collected will,
O'er thrones and globes elate
Sits Empress, crowning good, repressing ill;
Smit by her sacred frown
The fiend, Discretion, like a vapour sinks,
And e'en th'all-dazzling Crown
Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks.
Such was this heav'n lov'd isle,
Than Lesbos fairer and the Cretan shore;
No more shall freedom smile?
Shall Britons languish, and be Men no more?
Since all must life resign,
Those sweet rewards, which decorate the brave,
'Tis folly to decline,
And steal inglorious to the silent grave.
Abergavenny, March 31, 1781.
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AN ODE IN IMITATION OF CALLISTRATUS.
Εν μυρτου κλαδι το ξιφος φορησω,
Ωσπερ Αρμοδιος κ' Αριστογειτων,
Οτε τον τυραννον κτανετων
Ισονομους τ' Αθηνας εποιησατην.
κ. τ. λ.
Ωσπερ Αρμοδιος κ' Αριστογειτων,
Οτε τον τυραννον κτανετων
Ισονομους τ' Αθηνας εποιησατην.
κ. τ. λ.
Quod si post Idus illias Martias e Tyrannoctonis quispiam tale
aliquod carmen plebi tradidisset inque Suburram et fori circulos
et in ora vulgi intulisset, actum profecto fuisset de partibus
deque dominatione Cæsarum; plus mehercule valuisset unum
Αρμοδιου μελος quam Ciceronis Philippicæ omnes.
LOWTH De Sacra Poesi, Præl. 1.
Verdant myrtle's branchy pride
Shall my biting falchion wreathe:
Soon shall grace each manly side
Tubes that speak, and points that breathe.
Thus Harmodius! shone thy blade;
Thus Aristogiton! thine:
Whose, when Britain sighs for aid,
Whose shall now delay to shine?
Dearest youths, in islands blest,
Not, like recreant idlers, dead,
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And with godlike Diomed.
Verdant myrtle's branchy pride
Shall my thirsty blade entwine:
Such, Harmodius! deck'd thy side;
Such, Aristogiton! thine.
They the base Hipparchus slew
At the feast of Pallas crown'd:
Gods!—how swift their poniards flew!
How the monster ting'd the ground!
Then in Athens all was peace,
Equal laws and liberty:
Nurse of arts and age of Greece!
People valiant, firm and free!
Not less glorious was thy deed,
Wentworth! fix'd in virtue's cause;
Not less brilliant be thy meed,
Lenox! friend to equal laws.
High in Freedom's temple rais'd,
See Fitz-Maurice beaming stand,
For collected virtues prais'd,
Wisdom's voice and Valour's hand?
Ne'er shall Fate their eyelids close:
They, in blooming regions blest,
With Harmodius shall repose;
With Aristogiton rest.
No, blest chiefs! a hero's crown
Let th'Athenian patriots claim:
You less fiercely won renown;
You assum'd a milder name.
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You more blissful tidings bring;
They to death a Tyrant drove,
You to fame restor'd a King.
Rise Britannia! dauntless rise!
Cheer'd with triple harmony,
Monarch good, and Nobles wise,
People valiant, firm, and free!
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THE FIRST NEMEAN ODE OF PINDAR.
I.
1.
Calm breathing-place of Alpheus deadOrtygia, graceful branch of Syracuse renown'd,
Young Dina's rosy bed,
Sister of Delos, thee, with sweet, yet lofty, sound
Bursting numbers call, to raise
Of tempest-footed steeds the trophies glorious
(Thus Etnean Jove we praise;)
While Chromius' car invites, and Nemea's plain
For noble acts victorious
To weave th'encomiastic strain.
2.
From prosp'ring Gods the song begins:Next hails that godlike man and virtue's holy meeds:
He the flow'r of greatness wins,
Whom smiling fortune crowns; and vast heroic deeds
Ev'ry muse delights to sing.
Now wake to that fair isle the splendid story,
Which the great Olympian king,
Jove, gave to Proserpine, and wav'd his locks,
Vowing, that, supreme in glory,
Fam'd for sweet fruits, and nymph'd-lov'd rocks,
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3.
Sicilia's full nutritious breastWith tow'r'd and wealthy cities he would crown.
Her the son of Saturn bless'd
With suitors brazen-arm'd for war's renown
By lance and fiery steed; yet oft thy leaves,
Olympic olive! bind their hair
In wreathy gold. Great subjects I prepare;
But none th'immortal verse deceives.
II.
1.
Oft in the portals was I plac'dOf that guest-loving man, and pour'd the dulcet strain,
Where becoming dainties grac'd
His hospitable hoard: for ne'er with efforts vain
Strangers to his mansion came:
And thus the virtuous, when detraction rages,
Quench with lib'ral streams her flame.
Let each in virtue's path right onward press,
As each his art engages,
And, urg'd by genius, win success.
2.
Laborious action strength applies,And wary conduct, Sense: the future to foresee
Nature gives to few, the wise.
Agesidamus' son, she frankly gave to thee
Pow'rful might and wisdom deep.
I see not in dark cells the hoarded treasure
Grov'ling with low care to keep,
But, as wealth flows, to spread it, and to hear
Loud fame, with ample measure
Cheering my friends, since hope and fear
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3.
Assail disastrous men. The praiseOf Hercules with rapture I embrace:
On the heights, which virtues raise,
The rapid legend old his name shall place;
For, when he brook'd no more the cheerless gloom,
And burst into the blaze of day,
The child of Jove with his twin-brother lay,
Refulgent from the sacred womb.
III.
1.
Not unobserv'd the godlike boyBy Juno golden-thron'd the saffron'd cradle press'd;
Straight heav'n's queen with furious joy
Bade hideous dragons fleet th'unguarded floor infest:
They, the portals op'ning wide,
Roll'd through the chamber's broad recess tremendous,
And in Jaws fire-darting tried
The slumb'ring babe to close. He, starting light,
Rear'd his bold head stupendous,
And first in battle prov'd his might.
2.
With both resistless hands he clasp'dBoth struggling horrid pests, and cloth'd their necks with death;
They expiring, as he grasp'd,
Pour'd from their throats compress'd the foul envenom'd breath.
Horror seiz'd the female train,
Who near Alcmena's genial couch attended:
She, from agonizing pain
Yet weak, unsandal'd and unmantled rush'd,
And her lov'd charge defended,
Whilst he the fiery monsters crush'd.
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3.
Swift the Cadmean leaders ranIn brazen mail precipitately bold:
First Amphitryon, dauntless man,
Bar'd his rais'd falchion from its sheathing gold,
While grinding anguish pierc'd his flutt'ring breast;
For private woes most keenly bite
Self-loving man; but soon the heart is light,
With sorrow not its own oppress'd.
IV.
1.
Standing in deep amazement wildWith rapt'rous pleasure mix'd, he saw th'enormous force,
Saw the valour of his child:
And fated heralds prompt, as heav'n had shap'd their course,
Wafted round the varied tale:
Then call'd he from high Jove's contiguous region,
Him, whose warnings never fail,
Tiresias blind, who told, in diction sage,
The chief and thronging legion
What fortunes must his boy engage;
2.
What lawless tyrants of the wood,What serpents he would slay, what monsters of the main,
What proud foe to human good,
The worst of monstrous forms, that holy manhood stain,
His huge arm to death would dash:
How, when heav'n's host, o'er Phlegra's champaign hasting,
With embattled giants rash
Vindictive warr'd, his pond'rous mace would storm
With dreadful strokes wide-wasting,
And dust their glitt'ring locks deform,
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3.
He told; and how in blissful peaceThrough cycles infinite of gliding time,
When his mortal task should cease,
Sweet prize of perils hard and toil sublime,
In gorgeous mansions he should hold entranc'd
Soft Hebe, fresh with blooming grace,
And crown, exalting his majestic race,
The bridal feast near Jove advanc'd.
This Ode is translated word for word with the original; those epithets and phrases only being necessarily added which are printed in italic letters. See Argument of the Hymns to Pacriti.
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A CHINESE ODE PARAPHRASED.
Behold, where yon blue riv'let glides
Along the laughing dale;
Light reeds bedeck its verdant sides,
And frolic in the gale:
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 smil'd th'auspicious day,
That rais'd him o'er our state.
The virtues round him wait;
And sweetly smil'd th'auspicious day,
That rais'd him o'er our state.
As pliant hands in shapes refin'd
Rich iv'ry carve and smooth,
His laws thus mould each ductile mind,
And ev'ry passion soothe.
Rich iv'ry carve and smooth,
His laws thus mould each ductile mind,
And ev'ry passion soothe.
As gems are taught by patient art
In sparkling ranks to beam,
With manners thus he forms the heart,
And spreads a gen'ral gleam.
In sparkling ranks to beam,
With manners thus he forms the heart,
And spreads a gen'ral gleam.
What soft, yet awful, dignity!
What meek, yet manly, grace!
What sweetness dances in his eye,
And blossoms in his face!
What meek, yet manly, grace!
What sweetness dances in his eye,
And blossoms in his face!
31
So shines our prince! A sky-born crowd
Of virtues round him blaze:
Ne'er shall oblivion's murky cloud
Obscure his deathless praise.
Of virtues round him blaze:
Ne'er shall oblivion's murky cloud
Obscure his deathless praise.
THE VERBAL TRANSLATION.
‘Behold yon reach of the river Ki;‘Its green reeds how luxuriant! how luxuriant!
‘Thus is our prince adorned with virtues;
‘As a carver, as a filer of ivory,
‘As a cutter, as a polisher, of gems.
‘O how elate and sagacious! O how dauntless and composed!
‘How worthy of fame! How worthy of reverence!
‘We have a prince adorned with virtues,
‘Whom to the end of time we cannot forget.’
32
A TURKISH ODE 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;
The smiling season decks each flowery glade.
Be gay: too soon the flowers of Spring will fade.
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;
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 await that fatal day,
When ruder gusts shall banish gentle May?
Ev'n death, perhaps, our vallies will invade.
Be gay: too soon the flowers of Spring will fade.
Hills, dales, and woods, their loveliest mantles wear,
Who knows what cares await that fatal day,
When ruder gusts shall banish gentle May?
Ev'n death, perhaps, our vallies will invade.
Be gay: too soon the flowers of Spring will fade.
33
The tulip now its varied hue displays,
And sheds, like Ahmed's eye, celestial rays.
Ah, nation ever faithful, ever true,
The joys of youth, while May invites, pursue!
Will not these notes your timorous minds persuade?
Be gay: too soon the flowers of Spring will fade.
And sheds, like Ahmed's eye, celestial rays.
Ah, nation ever faithful, ever true,
The joys of youth, while May invites, pursue!
Will not these notes your timorous 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.
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 past;
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.
When pearls, like dewdrops, glitter in her ears.
34
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 anemonies their leaves unfold,
With rubies flaming and with living gold.
—While crystal showers from weeping clouds descend,
Enjoy the presence of thy tuneful friend:
Now, while the wines are brought, the sofa's lay'd,
Be gay: too soon the flowers of Spring will fade.
With rubies flaming and with living gold.
—While crystal showers from weeping clouds descend,
Enjoy the presence of thy tuneful friend:
Now, while the wines are brought, the sofa's lay'd,
Be gay: too soon the flowers of Spring will fade.
The plants no more are dried, the meadows dead,
No more the rose-bud 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.
No more the rose-bud hangs her pensive head:
The shrubs revive in valleys, meads, and bowers,
And every stalk is diadem'd with flowers;
35
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.
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 chang'd to essence ere they reach the dale.
The mild blue sky a rich pavilion spreads,
Without our labor, o'er our favor'd heads.
Let others toil in war, in arts, or trade:—
Be gay: too soon the flowers of Spring will fade.
Are chang'd to essence ere they reach the dale.
The mild blue sky a rich pavilion spreads,
Without our labor, o'er our favor'd heads.
Let others toil in war, in arts, or trade:—
Be gay: too soon the flowers of Spring will fade.
36
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.
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.
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.
| The poetical works of Sir William Jones | |