Moonlight The Doge's daughter: Ariadne: Carmen Britannicum, or The song of Britain: Angelica, or The rape of Proteus: By Edward, Lord Thurlow |
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| II. | CANTO II. |
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94
CANTO II.
Like a dart, from Apollo sent,
Down the Adrian gulf they went;
Like a swallow on the wing,
Flying to o'ertake the spring:
Scarce the moon three times had shone
The silver Adrian waves upon,
Scarce three times on the middle sea,
Shining in her glory free,
Ere the sev'nth morn, at break of day,
They enter'd the Athenian bay:
The ruddy sun began t' appear,
And strait they heard the trumpet clear,
And straight they saw from an armed port
The duke of Athens, and his court,
In gold and filed steel appear,
With blemish to the flow'ry year.
The duke on a white charger borne,
More white, than are the steeds of Morn,
More white, than are the kine that feed
On Clitumnus' sacred mead,
A purple vestment o'er him thrown,
That with all Sidon's beauty shone,
And on his helmet, perching clear,
Like Love, a golden grasshopper,
That seem'd to chirup to the year:
His bridle and bit, embossed brave,
With stones, that a bright lustre gave,
Like light from the Oriental wave;
And in his port, and valour, he
Seem'd like duke Theseus to be,
That won, and then espoused free
The warlike nymph, Hyppolité.
Then did a strain of musick swell,
As when the Tritons sound their shell,
And the approach of Neptune tell:
Or when Proteus breathes his horn,
To call his sea-calves through the morn:
Or when the balmy Venus laughs,
And Jove the cup of Hebe quaffs.
So did the musick breathe; the while
In the ruddy morning's smile,
A pearled banner, painted rare,
Floated in the purple air:
Thereon did Meleager slay
The boar, that made his savage prey
On the Caledonian way:
Great was the skilful painter's art;
The spear went piercing through the heart,
And the boar foam'd out his breath,
Grinning in the sylvan death.
So o'er the duke's brave head did fly
His ancestor's fair victory.
And by his side a knight there rode,
Much in semblance like a God,
That from his perfect panoply
Flames of living light did fly:
Tall and straight, like a pillar fair,
That the wise and pious care
Of Solomon did make, t' uphold
His temple, all carv'd out with gold:
And upon the knight's brave crest
Was a famous charge exprest,
That is, on an uprising knoll,
The God-created Capitol:
Rome, the heart of Rome, he bore:
Then, through the trumpet's silver roar,
It struck the heart of Heliodore:
“O Jove,” she cried, “Apollo 's there,
“Or great Frangipani's heir:
“See, Caneura, see,” she cried,
“The knight, that rides the duke beside,
“Arm'd with Mars' o'er-haughty pride:
“Know you his crest? know you the man?”
Then the aged nurse began;
“O Jove,” she cried, “what grace is here!”
Then in Heliodora's ear
She pour'd a thousand proverbs forth,
Which he may tell, who thinks them worth.
But what the cars, and what the steeds,
Prancing on the flow'ry meads,
Whose hoofs, in fiery thunder hurl'd,
Shook the centre of the world;
What the foot-men, arm'd with spears,
Had I great Nestor's aged years,
And lungs of brass, I could not tell:
Down the Adrian gulf they went;
Like a swallow on the wing,
Flying to o'ertake the spring:
Scarce the moon three times had shone
The silver Adrian waves upon,
Scarce three times on the middle sea,
Shining in her glory free,
Ere the sev'nth morn, at break of day,
They enter'd the Athenian bay:
The ruddy sun began t' appear,
And strait they heard the trumpet clear,
95
The duke of Athens, and his court,
In gold and filed steel appear,
With blemish to the flow'ry year.
The duke on a white charger borne,
More white, than are the steeds of Morn,
More white, than are the kine that feed
On Clitumnus' sacred mead,
A purple vestment o'er him thrown,
That with all Sidon's beauty shone,
And on his helmet, perching clear,
Like Love, a golden grasshopper,
That seem'd to chirup to the year:
His bridle and bit, embossed brave,
With stones, that a bright lustre gave,
Like light from the Oriental wave;
And in his port, and valour, he
Seem'd like duke Theseus to be,
That won, and then espoused free
The warlike nymph, Hyppolité.
Then did a strain of musick swell,
As when the Tritons sound their shell,
And the approach of Neptune tell:
96
To call his sea-calves through the morn:
Or when the balmy Venus laughs,
And Jove the cup of Hebe quaffs.
So did the musick breathe; the while
In the ruddy morning's smile,
A pearled banner, painted rare,
Floated in the purple air:
Thereon did Meleager slay
The boar, that made his savage prey
On the Caledonian way:
Great was the skilful painter's art;
The spear went piercing through the heart,
And the boar foam'd out his breath,
Grinning in the sylvan death.
So o'er the duke's brave head did fly
His ancestor's fair victory.
And by his side a knight there rode,
Much in semblance like a God,
That from his perfect panoply
Flames of living light did fly:
Tall and straight, like a pillar fair,
That the wise and pious care
97
His temple, all carv'd out with gold:
And upon the knight's brave crest
Was a famous charge exprest,
That is, on an uprising knoll,
The God-created Capitol:
Rome, the heart of Rome, he bore:
Then, through the trumpet's silver roar,
It struck the heart of Heliodore:
“O Jove,” she cried, “Apollo 's there,
“Or great Frangipani's heir:
“See, Caneura, see,” she cried,
“The knight, that rides the duke beside,
“Arm'd with Mars' o'er-haughty pride:
“Know you his crest? know you the man?”
Then the aged nurse began;
“O Jove,” she cried, “what grace is here!”
Then in Heliodora's ear
She pour'd a thousand proverbs forth,
Which he may tell, who thinks them worth.
But what the cars, and what the steeds,
Prancing on the flow'ry meads,
98
Shook the centre of the world;
What the foot-men, arm'd with spears,
Had I great Nestor's aged years,
And lungs of brass, I could not tell:
Leaving now the Ocean's swell,
Caneura, and fair Heliodore
Stood on the Munychian shore:
The Duke of Athens they were told,
Did war with the fierce Pagans hold;
And now was to the mountains gone,
To make with them his prowess known.
A sigh then Heliodora drew,
And, changing to an ashy hue,
And straight again to crimson red,
Thus to her nurse, Caneura, said;
“Ah me, O nurse, and can I lie
“Thus idle, when the war is nigh?
“What if Frangipani die?
“Love may arm my hand with force:
“Give me a spear, then, and a horse,
“A mailed breast-plate, and I'll go,
“To fight with the unfaithful foe.
“Love shall reign throughout the fight:
“Battle is a sweet delight,
“When the man we love is near:
“Not ev'n a woman's heart shall fear.
“I would not from this combat be,
“For all the gold the Sun can see.”
Then her eyes with fury shone;
But with a fury only known,
Where Love has shook his crimson fire:
'Twas valour, mingled with desire!
Her soul would from her armour fly:
Freely would she bleed, and die:
But more freely yield her breath
In chaste Hymen's softer death.
So the dove will fondly go
To meet the falcon, her fierce foe;
So the fond deer, in nature's truth,
Will brave the boar's o'er-gnashing tooth.
“Did not, O nurse, Hyppolyté
“Shine in mailed armour free,
“At Ilium for the cause of love?
“And shall that gentle rapture move
“A mind unspoused? and my soul,
“Wherein all Venus hath controul,
“Be tranquil, while her gentle mate
“Must brave the fierce assaults of fate?”
And then into her cheeks there came
A soft, an Amazonian flame:
And on the ground her looks she bent,
Her soul upon the war intent.
Caneura, and fair Heliodore
Stood on the Munychian shore:
The Duke of Athens they were told,
Did war with the fierce Pagans hold;
And now was to the mountains gone,
To make with them his prowess known.
A sigh then Heliodora drew,
And, changing to an ashy hue,
And straight again to crimson red,
Thus to her nurse, Caneura, said;
“Ah me, O nurse, and can I lie
“Thus idle, when the war is nigh?
“What if Frangipani die?
“Love may arm my hand with force:
“Give me a spear, then, and a horse,
99
“To fight with the unfaithful foe.
“Love shall reign throughout the fight:
“Battle is a sweet delight,
“When the man we love is near:
“Not ev'n a woman's heart shall fear.
“I would not from this combat be,
“For all the gold the Sun can see.”
Then her eyes with fury shone;
But with a fury only known,
Where Love has shook his crimson fire:
'Twas valour, mingled with desire!
Her soul would from her armour fly:
Freely would she bleed, and die:
But more freely yield her breath
In chaste Hymen's softer death.
So the dove will fondly go
To meet the falcon, her fierce foe;
So the fond deer, in nature's truth,
Will brave the boar's o'er-gnashing tooth.
“Did not, O nurse, Hyppolyté
“Shine in mailed armour free,
100
“And shall that gentle rapture move
“A mind unspoused? and my soul,
“Wherein all Venus hath controul,
“Be tranquil, while her gentle mate
“Must brave the fierce assaults of fate?”
And then into her cheeks there came
A soft, an Amazonian flame:
And on the ground her looks she bent,
Her soul upon the war intent.
In vain whate'er Caneura said:
Heliodore lift up her head,
And saw beneath an open shed,
An armourer, whose anvil play'd
A merry ditty to his trade.
“Pray, Sir,” said Heliodore, “can you
“Permit me a good suit to view,
“That Hercules could scarce shoot through?
“Armour of proof, that may avail,
“And blunt the Turkish iron hail?
“For, cap-a-pée, perhaps I mean
“To mingle with the warlike scene:
And then she gave a smile, whose dart
Went straight into the armourer's heart.
“Fair lady,” said the armourer then,
“These suits are for our warlike men:
“Nor arms, nor armour, can them shield,
“If once 'gainst you they take the field:
“Mars himself to you must yield:
“So sings Anacreon.” Then his work
Went on, despite th' invading Turk:
For he, before to-morrow's sun,
Must have a crested helmet done,
To save a head, that had no brains,
But had a mind for these campaigns.
“Achilles was a valiant man;”—
“Pray, Sir,” said Heliodore—“Anan?”
Replied the armourer: “Sir,” said she,
“A gentle youth commission'd me
“To purchase at what price you will,
“A noble mon'ment of your skill:”
“A monument? that 's fairly said;
“Many that way my skill hath sped:
“But ev'ry man best knows his part;
“And if he have so brave a heart,
“Why here's a sample of my art:”
Quoth he, “this armour I first made,
“When I was youthful in the trade,
“And, but Duke Æneus had no wit,
“For him I had imagin'd it:
“However, 'tis a noble piece,
“As you shall look on through all Greece,
“And, if you take it, it is sold
“For fifty pieces of pure gold:
“I warrant it”—said Heliodore,
“Here count your fifty pieces o'er,
“I take it on your word: no more!”—
Then with her took the armour home,
And straight into an inn they come:
Then purchas'd the brave maid a steed,
And fairly rode into the mead:
“Farewell, Caneura: if I die,
“Under a marble let me lie,
“And these few words, my truth to prove,
“I died for Frangipani's love.”
Heliodore lift up her head,
And saw beneath an open shed,
An armourer, whose anvil play'd
A merry ditty to his trade.
“Pray, Sir,” said Heliodore, “can you
“Permit me a good suit to view,
“That Hercules could scarce shoot through?
“Armour of proof, that may avail,
“And blunt the Turkish iron hail?
“For, cap-a-pée, perhaps I mean
“To mingle with the warlike scene:
101
Went straight into the armourer's heart.
“Fair lady,” said the armourer then,
“These suits are for our warlike men:
“Nor arms, nor armour, can them shield,
“If once 'gainst you they take the field:
“Mars himself to you must yield:
“So sings Anacreon.” Then his work
Went on, despite th' invading Turk:
For he, before to-morrow's sun,
Must have a crested helmet done,
To save a head, that had no brains,
But had a mind for these campaigns.
“Achilles was a valiant man;”—
“Pray, Sir,” said Heliodore—“Anan?”
Replied the armourer: “Sir,” said she,
“A gentle youth commission'd me
“To purchase at what price you will,
“A noble mon'ment of your skill:”
“A monument? that 's fairly said;
“Many that way my skill hath sped:
“But ev'ry man best knows his part;
“And if he have so brave a heart,
102
Quoth he, “this armour I first made,
“When I was youthful in the trade,
“And, but Duke Æneus had no wit,
“For him I had imagin'd it:
“However, 'tis a noble piece,
“As you shall look on through all Greece,
“And, if you take it, it is sold
“For fifty pieces of pure gold:
“I warrant it”—said Heliodore,
“Here count your fifty pieces o'er,
“I take it on your word: no more!”—
Then with her took the armour home,
And straight into an inn they come:
Then purchas'd the brave maid a steed,
And fairly rode into the mead:
“Farewell, Caneura: if I die,
“Under a marble let me lie,
“And these few words, my truth to prove,
“I died for Frangipani's love.”
The crimson morn was laughing now:
She heard, upon a mountain's brow,
The blazing trumpet's silver roar,
And steeds, that neigh'd along the shore:
The cries of men, like wolves, whom rage
Of hunger doth to fight engage,
That the pale moon away doth fly,
Eclipsed by their famish'd cry:
The crash of armour, like the roar
Of ice, that breaks upon the shore:
Then victory, sweet victory!
She heard the brave Athenians cry:
And then the tide of sound did fly,
And then again approach'd her nigh,
For now it ebb'd, and now it flow'd,
As smil'd or frown'd the warlike God.
At last upon her ear it came,
Like sudden, and soul-startling flame,
And, as a rocky point she turn'd,
Before her all the battle burn'd:
It may be, then her purpose quail'd,
But love, immortal love prevail'd;
For casting round a fearful look,
The blood almost her heart forsook,
Beholding Frangipani's crest
By numbers on all sides opprest.
He rag'd, as doth a warlike boar,
Hemm'd in by hunters on the shore,
Or as a rav'nous eagle, when
His mountain nest is scal'd by men.
Now this man, and now that he slew,
But was o'er-power'd by the crew:
Nor could shake off the heavy cloud
Of that unwelcome Turkish crowd.
At last, upon his side there came,
With swiftness of the light'ning's flame,
His spear in rest, a Turkish knight:
When Heliodore perceiv'd the sight,
She gave a cry, as doth a dove,
Who death will for her offspring prove:
And, soul and body, to the fight
She drove her steed against the knight.
Like Jove's divine and winged dart,
Her spear went rightway through the heart,
And o'er his crupper he fell dead:
But Heliodore so swiftly sped,
That, falling o'er the man her steed,
She tumbled headlong on the mead:
And with her foe-man senseless lay,
As both had been but imag'd clay.
Frangipani saw the thing:
And, making for himself a ring,
Like Ajax, with his shield and blade,
Protected the unhappy maid:
Brave Ajax, who, still dear to fame,
A purple hyacinth became:
And, like a hyacinth, on earth
Soiled all it's golden worth,
The pallid Heliodora lay,
To death almost a willing prey.
Whoever came too near the maid,
Full dearly for the trespass paid;
For in his throat, or in his heart,
He felt the steel his spirits part.
At length so many Turks had died,
He was by Pagans fortified
Against the war's o'er-swelling tide.
Then Frangipani, when the roar
Of battle now was nearly o'er,
And to the hills and forests went
The Turkish host incontinent,
The duke of Athens at their heels,
(As when a wolf, appalled, steals
From the pursuing shepherd's rage,)
Began his pitying thoughts t' engage
With help to the brave knight below,
Immersed in a sleep of woe:
His shatter'd helmet he unbound;
And on the verdure all around
The golden tresses 'gan to play,
Like beams of th' Oriental day,
And Heliodore before him lay:
Yes, Heliodore, expiring knight!
At first he fainted at the sight,
And, but he was most brave of men,
His soul had fled to Hades then.
But love recall'd his spirits soon;
And, swifter than the birds in June,
He brought cold water from the spring,
And did it o'er her temples fling.
The maid then open'd her soft eyes,
And what with joy, and with surprise,
When she beheld her lover there,
Again she fainted from the air.
“O Frangipani,” then she said,
When life returned to the maid,
“O Frangipani,” o'er and o'er;
And “O beloved Heliodore!”
As soft, as murmurs are of bees,
Or rivers, flowing to the seas,
Or thunder in the gentle spring,
Launch'd from the hand of nature's king;
So soft these lovers' words and sighs,
And dear unto the deities:
And who can tell the sandy shore,
And of the stars recount the store,
And leaves, that fall in autumn hoar:
He may tell, and he alone,
The kisses, that they made their own.
The duke of Athens join'd their hands,
Love knit them in his golden bands;
And, while the stars their lustre spent,
And to and fro young Hymen went,
The Doge's daughter gave content
For Frangipani's banishment.
She heard, upon a mountain's brow,
103
And steeds, that neigh'd along the shore:
The cries of men, like wolves, whom rage
Of hunger doth to fight engage,
That the pale moon away doth fly,
Eclipsed by their famish'd cry:
The crash of armour, like the roar
Of ice, that breaks upon the shore:
Then victory, sweet victory!
She heard the brave Athenians cry:
And then the tide of sound did fly,
And then again approach'd her nigh,
For now it ebb'd, and now it flow'd,
As smil'd or frown'd the warlike God.
At last upon her ear it came,
Like sudden, and soul-startling flame,
And, as a rocky point she turn'd,
Before her all the battle burn'd:
It may be, then her purpose quail'd,
But love, immortal love prevail'd;
For casting round a fearful look,
The blood almost her heart forsook,
104
By numbers on all sides opprest.
He rag'd, as doth a warlike boar,
Hemm'd in by hunters on the shore,
Or as a rav'nous eagle, when
His mountain nest is scal'd by men.
Now this man, and now that he slew,
But was o'er-power'd by the crew:
Nor could shake off the heavy cloud
Of that unwelcome Turkish crowd.
At last, upon his side there came,
With swiftness of the light'ning's flame,
His spear in rest, a Turkish knight:
When Heliodore perceiv'd the sight,
She gave a cry, as doth a dove,
Who death will for her offspring prove:
And, soul and body, to the fight
She drove her steed against the knight.
Like Jove's divine and winged dart,
Her spear went rightway through the heart,
And o'er his crupper he fell dead:
But Heliodore so swiftly sped,
105
She tumbled headlong on the mead:
And with her foe-man senseless lay,
As both had been but imag'd clay.
Frangipani saw the thing:
And, making for himself a ring,
Like Ajax, with his shield and blade,
Protected the unhappy maid:
Brave Ajax, who, still dear to fame,
A purple hyacinth became:
And, like a hyacinth, on earth
Soiled all it's golden worth,
The pallid Heliodora lay,
To death almost a willing prey.
Whoever came too near the maid,
Full dearly for the trespass paid;
For in his throat, or in his heart,
He felt the steel his spirits part.
At length so many Turks had died,
He was by Pagans fortified
Against the war's o'er-swelling tide.
Then Frangipani, when the roar
Of battle now was nearly o'er,
106
The Turkish host incontinent,
The duke of Athens at their heels,
(As when a wolf, appalled, steals
From the pursuing shepherd's rage,)
Began his pitying thoughts t' engage
With help to the brave knight below,
Immersed in a sleep of woe:
His shatter'd helmet he unbound;
And on the verdure all around
The golden tresses 'gan to play,
Like beams of th' Oriental day,
And Heliodore before him lay:
Yes, Heliodore, expiring knight!
At first he fainted at the sight,
And, but he was most brave of men,
His soul had fled to Hades then.
But love recall'd his spirits soon;
And, swifter than the birds in June,
He brought cold water from the spring,
And did it o'er her temples fling.
The maid then open'd her soft eyes,
And what with joy, and with surprise,
107
Again she fainted from the air.
“O Frangipani,” then she said,
When life returned to the maid,
“O Frangipani,” o'er and o'er;
And “O beloved Heliodore!”
As soft, as murmurs are of bees,
Or rivers, flowing to the seas,
Or thunder in the gentle spring,
Launch'd from the hand of nature's king;
So soft these lovers' words and sighs,
And dear unto the deities:
And who can tell the sandy shore,
And of the stars recount the store,
And leaves, that fall in autumn hoar:
He may tell, and he alone,
The kisses, that they made their own.
The duke of Athens join'd their hands,
Love knit them in his golden bands;
And, while the stars their lustre spent,
And to and fro young Hymen went,
The Doge's daughter gave content
For Frangipani's banishment.
| Moonlight | |