 | The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival |  |
326
2. PART II.
[_]
[In the present section, several varieties of ancient measures are attempted, in addition to those in the preceding. In the series of Dactylics, the effect of the different degrees of Catalexis is, if I mistake not, clearly evident; that on one syllable (as in the Hexameter II. and in the Pentameter and Tetrameter here given) leading to a more subdued or sustained expression; and that on two syllables (as in the Heroic Hexameter I.), to a higher and more energetic expression, peculiarly suited to the Epic; while the Acatalectic (complete) termination on three syllables gives a fuller expression, approaching the magniloquent, or a lighter movement, verging on levity. The Hypercatalectic termination of the Hexameter (IV.), which is really a Heptameter, Catalectic on one syllable, presents a very singular measure, as happy in its expression as it is difficult of execution. The Iambic Tetrameter Catalectic (I.) is the “O Miss Baily!” measure, so much a favorite in Romaic poetry, as in the Ερωτας απολογουμενος of Christopoulos. This is strikingly different, in its light, tripping movement, from the corresponding Acatalectic verse (II.), which is always marked, more or less, by a slow and dignified or plaintive expression, similar to that of the Tragic Iambic (Part I.). The Choriambic, from the natural pause between the measures, has a bounding, but at the same time energetic movement, which may, by changing the pause to a slide, become subdued and flowing. But a continuous series of Choriambics has a monotonous effect, and doubtless for this reason they were usually accompanied with other feet, particularly as terminations. Thus the Choriambic (I.) has an Iambic (Catalectic) termination, or its equivalent; while the Choriambic Polyschematist consists of two members, each with an Iambic termination (the first complete, the second Catalectic). The Choriambic (II.) is composed of a pure series of Choriambics, but is so arranged, if I mistake not, as to give, in most instances, an easy slide from one measure to another, thus relieving the natural abruptness of the verse. The two specimens, under the head of Glyconic and Pherecratean, differ only in the distribution of the two varieties of verse combined; the latter specimen forming the verse called Priapeian by the ancients. The specimen marked Eupolidean and Cratinean, consists of a stanza of the former verse, followed by one of the latter; the two differing so little, as to be readily combined in the same series. The Epionic (Polyschematist), like the Choriambic Polyschematist, consists of two members, the last of which, as in the latter, is one syllable shorter than the first. The Asynartete verse is characterized by a change of movement in the middle of the line; the first member, in this instance, beginning with the accent (arsis); the second, with an unaccented syllable (thesis). An instance of such verse occurs in the first half of the stanza in Lay XII. (p. 269), where the lines are alternately Trochaic and
327
DACTYLIC HEXAMETER.
I. Heroic.
Bard of the bright Chian isle, from snow-crowned Olympus descending,
Come to my spirit at night, thy own full ecstasy lending:
Bear me away through thy world, still with youth's first energy glowing;
Still with the great and the fair in wide effusion o'erflowing.
Come to my spirit at night, thy own full ecstasy lending:
Bear me away through thy world, still with youth's first energy glowing;
Still with the great and the fair in wide effusion o'erflowing.
Other creations may fade, to shapeless ruin decaying:
Over the world of thy song, youth's earliest dawn is still playing.
Long the tall turrets of Troy have perished, by centuries riven,—
Still at thy bidding they rise, untouched and immortal, to heaven.
Over the world of thy song, youth's earliest dawn is still playing.
328
Still at thy bidding they rise, untouched and immortal, to heaven.
Still rise her sons in their might, dark plumes o'er their helmets wide waving,—
Armed for their altars and homes, the god and the warrior braving.
Hector still burns in the fight, awhile the wild torrent controlling;
Then, like the thunderer's, in wrath, the car of Achilles is rolling.
Armed for their altars and homes, the god and the warrior braving.
Hector still burns in the fight, awhile the wild torrent controlling;
Then, like the thunderer's, in wrath, the car of Achilles is rolling.
Ever new forms, at thy touch, to life and to beauty are starting;—
Helen still wins with her smile; Andromache trembles at parting;
Lone sits the hero apart, by the shore of the sea wide resounding;
Light o'er the high purple wave the fair-freighted vessel is bounding.
Helen still wins with her smile; Andromache trembles at parting;
Lone sits the hero apart, by the shore of the sea wide resounding;
Light o'er the high purple wave the fair-freighted vessel is bounding.
Still through the darkness of night the grief-stricken monarch is stealing,
Falls at the feet of his foe, and melts him to tenderest feeling.
Nature! thy power is supreme; no proud-hearted victor can sway thee;
When thy soft whisper is heard, the strong and the mighty obey thee.
Falls at the feet of his foe, and melts him to tenderest feeling.
Nature! thy power is supreme; no proud-hearted victor can sway thee;
When thy soft whisper is heard, the strong and the mighty obey thee.
[II. Deep, 'mid the shades of night, I sink in silent repose]
Deep, 'mid the shades of night, I sink in silent repose;
Pressed by the soft touch of sleep, my lids on the outer world close;
But to the eye of my soul a fairer vision unfolds,
That, with a charm of delight, my spirit long wondering holds.
Pressed by the soft touch of sleep, my lids on the outer world close;
329
That, with a charm of delight, my spirit long wondering holds.
There are the bright forms of youth, creations too lovely to stay:
Ever they come in my dreams,—I wake, and they hasten away.
Over my pillow they hover, as clouds o'er the far golden west,
When, in the soft-heaving wave, Day sinks to the couch of his rest.
Ever they come in my dreams,—I wake, and they hasten away.
Over my pillow they hover, as clouds o'er the far golden west,
When, in the soft-heaving wave, Day sinks to the couch of his rest.
There rise, in beauty, the shapes that gladdened in earliest time,
Where spread the lily and rose, full-bloomed, in Ionia's clime:
Nymphs, too, of forest and grove, of fountain and blue-rolling deep,
Still, with their dark-beaming eyes, fond watch o'er the slumberer keep.
Where spread the lily and rose, full-bloomed, in Ionia's clime:
Nymphs, too, of forest and grove, of fountain and blue-rolling deep,
Still, with their dark-beaming eyes, fond watch o'er the slumberer keep.
Still, from the high walls of heaven, the gods in their glory descend;
Still, to the bold-bearing youth, their power and their spirit they lend;
Still, o'er the dark-rolling clouds, triumphant they ride in their cars;
Still, from victorious death, the demigod mounts to the stars.
Still, to the bold-bearing youth, their power and their spirit they lend;
Still, o'er the dark-rolling clouds, triumphant they ride in their cars;
Still, from victorious death, the demigod mounts to the stars.
Eldest and highest of bards! thy song, with its music divine,
Rolls through this magical world, my spirit has raised for its shrine.
Still, as when first from thy lyre its tones in harmony stole,
Breathes, through the silence of night, its influence deep in my soul.
Rolls through this magical world, my spirit has raised for its shrine.
Still, as when first from thy lyre its tones in harmony stole,
Breathes, through the silence of night, its influence deep in my soul.
330
[III. Still, as in youth, ever green, the laurel of Homer is flourishing]
Still, as in youth, ever green, the laurel of Homer is flourishing;
Life-giving streams bathe its roots, its wide-waving foliage nourishing:
Light, from the ever-bright throne, still over its summit is hovering,
Blossom and leaf, as they wave, still with heavenly radiance covering.
Life-giving streams bathe its roots, its wide-waving foliage nourishing:
Light, from the ever-bright throne, still over its summit is hovering,
Blossom and leaf, as they wave, still with heavenly radiance covering.
And, as I look to its sky-piercing summit, an eagle has taken me,
Bears me aloft, where the blasts from Olympus to keener life waken me.
Hail to the herald, whose cloud-cleaving pinion from earth can deliver me!
Nothing below from the high train of bards and of heroes shall sever me.
Bears me aloft, where the blasts from Olympus to keener life waken me.
Hail to the herald, whose cloud-cleaving pinion from earth can deliver me!
Nothing below from the high train of bards and of heroes shall sever me.
[IV. Herald of earliest dawn! at thy smile the blue waters are stirring again]
Herald of earliest dawn! at thy smile the blue waters are stirring again:
Wide the sea wakes from its sleep, as thy bright eye enkindles the sky and the main.
As the wind flutters thy locks, and plays with the folds of thy many-dyed veil,
Boldly we launch on the deep, and deck with thy purple the snow of our sail.
Earth then gives tokens of life, and again, as a giant refreshed with repose,
Youthfully starts from its dreams, and its cheeks are all flushed with the bloom of the rose.
Wide the sea wakes from its sleep, as thy bright eye enkindles the sky and the main.
As the wind flutters thy locks, and plays with the folds of thy many-dyed veil,
Boldly we launch on the deep, and deck with thy purple the snow of our sail.
Earth then gives tokens of life, and again, as a giant refreshed with repose,
Youthfully starts from its dreams, and its cheeks are all flushed with the bloom of the rose.
Phosphor leads on thy bright train, and waves his clear torch, as the night steals away;
Then come the light-footed hours, and with soft hands unfold the fair portals of day:
Forth on thy rose-wreathen car, thou rollest 'mid billows of saffron and gold;
Loves, on their thin iris wings, the red-streaming mists, as thy canopy, hold.
Gracefully ever at morn, thy car thus aloft o'er the mountain is borne;
And as thou comest, the woods ring aloud with the clang of the welcoming horn.
Then come the light-footed hours, and with soft hands unfold the fair portals of day:
331
Loves, on their thin iris wings, the red-streaming mists, as thy canopy, hold.
Gracefully ever at morn, thy car thus aloft o'er the mountain is borne;
And as thou comest, the woods ring aloud with the clang of the welcoming horn.
DACTYLIC PENTAMETER.
Spirit of hope and of joy, who, in holiest day,
Dwellest 'mid ever-bright flowers, from thy home of delight,
Come to me still as a friend, 'mid the visions of night,—
Bear me, on pinions of love, to thy heaven away.
There, where the fountains of life in the clear morning play,
Bathing the blossoms around with their freshening dew,
Waking for ever the rose, its sweet youth to renew,
Couched on the ever-green grass, I would lingering stay.
Dwellest 'mid ever-bright flowers, from thy home of delight,
Come to me still as a friend, 'mid the visions of night,—
Bear me, on pinions of love, to thy heaven away.
There, where the fountains of life in the clear morning play,
Bathing the blossoms around with their freshening dew,
Waking for ever the rose, its sweet youth to renew,
Couched on the ever-green grass, I would lingering stay.
Blest with thy presence alone, I would ever remain,
Live on thy smile and thy song:—wouldst thou ever be near,
Breathing the tones of thy heart, as a lute, in my ear,
Never the cold realm of earth should possess me again.
O, shall I never be free from this heart-crushing chain?
Shall the fond dreams of my youth be around me no more?
Shall there no bright morning dawn, to revive and restore?
Fondly I look to thy aid;—let me look not in vain!
Live on thy smile and thy song:—wouldst thou ever be near,
Breathing the tones of thy heart, as a lute, in my ear,
Never the cold realm of earth should possess me again.
O, shall I never be free from this heart-crushing chain?
Shall the fond dreams of my youth be around me no more?
332
Fondly I look to thy aid;—let me look not in vain!
DACTYLIC TETRAMETER.
Ever thou comest, at even and morn,—
Comest, attended with flute and with horn:
Over the mountain, and over the hill,
Lightly and brightly thou hoverest still.
All the gay rites of thy worship are gone;
All the bright train that once graced thee have flown:
Not even the fauns with their whistles would stay;
They too have fled through the forests away:
But thou, enchantress, still ever art nigh,—
Breathest, at even and dawn, from the sky.
Comest, attended with flute and with horn:
Over the mountain, and over the hill,
Lightly and brightly thou hoverest still.
All the gay rites of thy worship are gone;
All the bright train that once graced thee have flown:
Not even the fauns with their whistles would stay;
They too have fled through the forests away:
But thou, enchantress, still ever art nigh,—
Breathest, at even and dawn, from the sky.
Softly the west-wind now wafts thee along,—
Wafts over meadow and valley thy song:
Then the wild songster is hushed at thy flight;
Silent he pauses, entranced in delight.
Naiads have vanished from fountain and stream;
Nymph of the forest has fled, like a dream;
Down in the depth of the blue-rolling deep,
Pillowed for ever, the sea-maidens sleep:
Spirit of melody! still thou art nigh,—
Breathest, at even and dawn, from the sky.
Wafts over meadow and valley thy song:
Then the wild songster is hushed at thy flight;
Silent he pauses, entranced in delight.
Naiads have vanished from fountain and stream;
Nymph of the forest has fled, like a dream;
Down in the depth of the blue-rolling deep,
Pillowed for ever, the sea-maidens sleep:
Spirit of melody! still thou art nigh,—
Breathest, at even and dawn, from the sky.
IAMBIC TETRAMETER.
[I. Aurora rises o'er the hills, by graceful hours attended]
Aurora rises o'er the hills, by graceful hours attended,
And in her train a merry troop of bright-eyed loves are blended.
Away they fly, o'er wood and wild, o'er lake and winding river;
And as they fly, the kindling sky is growing brighter ever.
And in her train a merry troop of bright-eyed loves are blended.
333
And as they fly, the kindling sky is growing brighter ever.
The world now wakes, and silence flies to cave of lonely mountain:
The deer steal from their forest glades; the birds sing o'er the fountain:
The cottage smoke, o'er vale and plain, in many a curl, is flowing;
And guided by the tinkling bell, the herd afield is going.
The deer steal from their forest glades; the birds sing o'er the fountain:
The cottage smoke, o'er vale and plain, in many a curl, is flowing;
And guided by the tinkling bell, the herd afield is going.
The level sunbeams touch the lake,—its sheeted wave is flashing;
And brighter still, from eastward hill, the waterfall is dashing:
The plashing wheel revolves below,—a shower of light is round it;
Those orient hues, the drops diffuse, with mazy circles bound it.
And brighter still, from eastward hill, the waterfall is dashing:
The plashing wheel revolves below,—a shower of light is round it;
Those orient hues, the drops diffuse, with mazy circles bound it.
O, gay the plastic dreams of old, the world their touch created!
The poet's eye, with fervent gaze, still o'er it broods unsated.
Fair forms still haunt the forest-wild, still dwell by shady river:
Their loveliness shall never fade; their bloom is fresh for ever.
The poet's eye, with fervent gaze, still o'er it broods unsated.
Fair forms still haunt the forest-wild, still dwell by shady river:
Their loveliness shall never fade; their bloom is fresh for ever.
[II. O, turn not, dearest, on me so!—I cannot bear that grief of thine]
O, turn not, dearest, on me so!—I cannot bear that grief of thine:
Thy sorrow stealeth to my heart,—there silently it feedeth mine.
The grief I feel, I would subdue, and then would wipe thy tears away;
But while I see thee sorrowing so, this gloom around my heart will stay.
Thy sorrow stealeth to my heart,—there silently it feedeth mine.
334
But while I see thee sorrowing so, this gloom around my heart will stay.
O, let me only catch one smile, like morning's glance from drop of dew!
O, let the soft light flow again, that once so filled thy eye of blue!
O, tell me so, thy heart hath peace!—like withered flowers revived by rain,
Gay thoughts would open in my heart, and fond emotions bloom again.
O, let the soft light flow again, that once so filled thy eye of blue!
O, tell me so, thy heart hath peace!—like withered flowers revived by rain,
Gay thoughts would open in my heart, and fond emotions bloom again.
CHORIAMBIC.
[I. Bear me afar over the wave, far to the sacred islands]
Bear me afar over the wave, far to the sacred islands,
Where ever bright blossoms the plain, where no cloud hangs on the highlands:
There be my heart ever at rest, stirred by no wild emotion;
There on the earth only repose, halcyon calm on the ocean.
Where ever bright blossoms the plain, where no cloud hangs on the highlands:
There be my heart ever at rest, stirred by no wild emotion;
There on the earth only repose, halcyon calm on the ocean.
Lay me along, pillowed on flowers, where steals in silence for ever,
Over its sands, still as at noon, far the oblivious river.
Scarce through the grass whispers it by; deep in its wave you may number
Pebble and shell, and image of flower, folded and bent in slumber.
Over its sands, still as at noon, far the oblivious river.
Scarce through the grass whispers it by; deep in its wave you may number
Pebble and shell, and image of flower, folded and bent in slumber.
Spirit of life! rather aloft, where, on the crest of the mountain,
Clear blow the winds, fresh from the north, sparkles and dashes the fountain,
Lead me along, hot in the chase, still 'mid the storm high glowing:
Only we live—only, when life, like the wild torrent, is flowing.
Clear blow the winds, fresh from the north, sparkles and dashes the fountain,
335
Only we live—only, when life, like the wild torrent, is flowing.
[II. When the blue wave sinks on the sea, and the still night hushes the deep]
When the blue wave sinks on the sea, and the still night hushes the deep,
Ever my soul hastens to thee, ever thy smile blesses my sleep.
Then a few hours, blest, thou art nigh; then, too, as once, thou art my own:
But when the dawn kindles the sky, sadly I wake,—far thou hast flown.
Ever my soul hastens to thee, ever thy smile blesses my sleep.
Then a few hours, blest, thou art nigh; then, too, as once, thou art my own:
But when the dawn kindles the sky, sadly I wake,—far thou hast flown.
Canst thou not take me in thy flight, when with the dawn thou art no more?
Fairer thou seemest, spirit of heaven, though thou didst seem fairest before.
Now thou art gone, earth all is dark;—O, wilt thou ne'er bear me away?
Here only night deadens my soul,—yonder alone, yonder is day!
Fairer thou seemest, spirit of heaven, though thou didst seem fairest before.
Now thou art gone, earth all is dark;—O, wilt thou ne'er bear me away?
Here only night deadens my soul,—yonder alone, yonder is day!
CHORIAMBIC POLYSCHEMATIST.
Come to the dance! awake! awake! bound with the music lightly!
Evening is falling on the lake,—flashes the mirror brightly.
Come, where the elm is arching high, bent with its purple treasure:
Bid to the toil of day good-by,—yield to the call of pleasure!
Evening is falling on the lake,—flashes the mirror brightly.
Come, where the elm is arching high, bent with its purple treasure:
Bid to the toil of day good-by,—yield to the call of pleasure!
336
Come to the dance, ye maidens fair! gayly the song invites you:
Joy with his golden lamp is there,—on to the ring he lights you.
Circle around the festive tree! then, as the music wakes you,
Trip to its measures, light and free,—flit, where in sport it takes you!
Joy with his golden lamp is there,—on to the ring he lights you.
Circle around the festive tree! then, as the music wakes you,
Trip to its measures, light and free,—flit, where in sport it takes you!
Haste to the dance, away, away! viol and lute attend you:
Evening winds, as with flowers they play, sweets from the rose-buds send you.
Haste to the dance! the music calls!—haste to the smile of lover!
Soon the chilly night-dew falls,—then must the dance be over.
Evening winds, as with flowers they play, sweets from the rose-buds send you.
Haste to the dance! the music calls!—haste to the smile of lover!
Soon the chilly night-dew falls,—then must the dance be over.
GLYCONIC AND PHERECRATEAN.
[I. Hark! the echo of shout and song]
Hark! the echo of shout and song!
See the bacchanals troop along!
Loud the cymbals are sounding.
Then, as wildly they onward pour,
Swells the drum, with its hollow roar,
Deep from cavern rebounding.
See the bacchanals troop along!
Loud the cymbals are sounding.
Then, as wildly they onward pour,
Swells the drum, with its hollow roar,
Deep from cavern rebounding.
Quick the Graces, with timid flight,
Far retire to the forest-night,
Scared, as the din is pealing.
Gentle Nymphs to the thicket fly,
Wait till the tumult has hurried by,
Racked each tenderer feeling.
Far retire to the forest-night,
Scared, as the din is pealing.
Gentle Nymphs to the thicket fly,
Wait till the tumult has hurried by,
Racked each tenderer feeling.
337
Such the tumult and din of life;
So it rushes, in storm and strife
Flies the ideal before it:
And as its discord rolls along,
Still is the gentle voice of song:
Only can peace restore it.
So it rushes, in storm and strife
Flies the ideal before it:
And as its discord rolls along,
Still is the gentle voice of song:
Only can peace restore it.
[II. Bright ascends the festal dawn; bright the temple is flashing]
Bright ascends the festal dawn; bright the temple is flashing:
Wide a nation is rolling on; spear and armor are clashing.
Garlands circle each helmet there, high on standard are glancing:
Shouts are filling the vernal air; gayly the youth are dancing.
Wide a nation is rolling on; spear and armor are clashing.
Garlands circle each helmet there, high on standard are glancing:
Shouts are filling the vernal air; gayly the youth are dancing.
So they haste to the sacred games,—wild each bosom is beating:
Victory high each soul enflames,—loud the champion's greeting.
Swiftly flies the race of car and steed,—far sweeps the dust to heaven:
Glorious shines the conqueror's meed, when by a nation given.
Victory high each soul enflames,—loud the champion's greeting.
Swiftly flies the race of car and steed,—far sweeps the dust to heaven:
Glorious shines the conqueror's meed, when by a nation given.
EUPOLIDEAN AND CRATINEAN.
When the Spring has wakened the flowers, and the day is warm and still,—
When the rose has woven its bowers,—be my haunt the sunny hill.
Then as breathes the whispering air, o'er my head the cloudless sky,
Dreams from heaven visit me there,—holy visions pass me by.
When the rose has woven its bowers,—be my haunt the sunny hill.
Then as breathes the whispering air, o'er my head the cloudless sky,
Dreams from heaven visit me there,—holy visions pass me by.
338
Silently sleep the woods around; mute the sheeted river flows;
Hushed, as in death, the world of sound; voiceless, too, the zephyr blows:
But to my heart a music steals, faint at first, then full and clear;
Deep in my soul, from Heaven it peals,—borne as from some celestial sphere.
Hushed, as in death, the world of sound; voiceless, too, the zephyr blows:
But to my heart a music steals, faint at first, then full and clear;
Deep in my soul, from Heaven it peals,—borne as from some celestial sphere.
EPIONIC.
What joy at even to hear thee, sweet voice of tenderest love!
How blest, alone to be near thee, thou soft and sorrowing dove!
Thou seemest all sad and forsaken; thy song dies sobbing away:
But yet, as I hear thee, I waken; thou singest of love and of May.
How blest, alone to be near thee, thou soft and sorrowing dove!
Thou seemest all sad and forsaken; thy song dies sobbing away:
But yet, as I hear thee, I waken; thou singest of love and of May.
And oft in summer thou sittest, concealed in shadowy pine,
Or where, in loneliest valley, the tangled cedars entwine.
Beneath their shadow reposing, in dim, mysterious light,
I hear thy song, at its closing, like voice of spirit at night.
Or where, in loneliest valley, the tangled cedars entwine.
Beneath their shadow reposing, in dim, mysterious light,
I hear thy song, at its closing, like voice of spirit at night.
'Tis ever pleasant to hear thee,—I always welcome thy song;
For gentle the feelings thou wakest,—the heart can indulge them long.
A strain of livelier measure may rouse and quicken its play;
But short and fleeting the pleasure,—the gentle only can stay.
For gentle the feelings thou wakest,—the heart can indulge them long.
A strain of livelier measure may rouse and quicken its play;
But short and fleeting the pleasure,—the gentle only can stay.
339
ASYNARTETE.
Merrily, merrily rings the joyous shout of harvest-home:
Merrily, merrily springs the homeward bark through dashing foam.
Gayly the villagers leap, as red and ripe the vintage flows:
Lightly and brightly they sweep, the glancing swords, as the conflict glows.
Merrily, merrily springs the homeward bark through dashing foam.
Gayly the villagers leap, as red and ripe the vintage flows:
Lightly and brightly they sweep, the glancing swords, as the conflict glows.
Bursts, in its fulness, the heart, in laugh and shout, in festive song;
So when the labor is done,—so when toil strives along.
Hope cheers the combatant on; in pride and joy the victor sings:
Crows, 'mid the fight, the cock,—conqueror then claps his wings.
So when the labor is done,—so when toil strives along.
Hope cheers the combatant on; in pride and joy the victor sings:
Crows, 'mid the fight, the cock,—conqueror then claps his wings.
GALLIAMBIC.
The clouds roll from the mountains; the storm sweeps o'er the plain;
And the boldest shrink in terror; the proudest shake with fear.
The scared soldiers are flying, 'mid hail and dashing rain;
And the ground thickly is covered with scattered shield and spear.
And the boldest shrink in terror; the proudest shake with fear.
The scared soldiers are flying, 'mid hail and dashing rain;
And the ground thickly is covered with scattered shield and spear.
With loud burst, as of thunder, 'mid a wide whirlwind of fire,
From the high heaven, in glory, descends the god of war.
The fearless hero, exulting, beholds his warrior sire;
And he mounts, joyous, beside him, the bright triumphal car.
From the high heaven, in glory, descends the god of war.
340
And he mounts, joyous, beside him, the bright triumphal car.
Aloft sweeps it to heaven, and the white steeds, as they fly
Over clouds, rolling like surges, are dashing the lightnings around.
The eye in vain can follow their quick flight through the sky;
From mountain far to mountain, they leap at every bound.
Over clouds, rolling like surges, are dashing the lightnings around.
The eye in vain can follow their quick flight through the sky;
From mountain far to mountain, they leap at every bound.
Weep not your king, ye Romans! for he now is a god above.
Late, when alone, I saw him, and he rose like a tower of light.
Lofty and stern, he met me: he seemed like a son of Jove.
Far through the darkness glittered his armor, intensely bright.
Late, when alone, I saw him, and he rose like a tower of light.
Lofty and stern, he met me: he seemed like a son of Jove.
Far through the darkness glittered his armor, intensely bright.
“Go now, and tell my people!” he spake in solemn tone,
And as I heard, I trembled, and listened with holiest awe;
“I am their guardian genius; I dwell by the highest throne:
Bid them be wise and temperate, and reverent to faith and law!”
And as I heard, I trembled, and listened with holiest awe;
“I am their guardian genius; I dwell by the highest throne:
Bid them be wise and temperate, and reverent to faith and law!”
SATURNIAN.
A shout, a shout for Cocles, brave among the bravest!
For he the bridge defended, and fearless swam the river.
A wreath for noble Cocles,—a civic wreath for ever!
He saved our sacred city,—glory crown the hero!
For he the bridge defended, and fearless swam the river.
A wreath for noble Cocles,—a civic wreath for ever!
He saved our sacred city,—glory crown the hero!
341
A shout, a shout for Cocles! Tell the gallant story,
O, tell it to your children, and they shall tell it further.
On the bridge he fronted all Porsenna's army:
Spear and arrow round him flew,—alone he braved them.
O, tell it to your children, and they shall tell it further.
On the bridge he fronted all Porsenna's army:
Spear and arrow round him flew,—alone he braved them.
A shout, a shout for Cocles! Now the bridge is broken,
And see! he plunges headlong in the foaming river.
He stems the flood undaunted; his joyous friends embrace him;
He has saved our city:—twine the wreath around him!
And see! he plunges headlong in the foaming river.
He stems the flood undaunted; his joyous friends embrace him;
He has saved our city:—twine the wreath around him!
SAPPHIC.
Soft he sleeps, where floweth the winding river:
Winds blow light; they dare not awake the sleeper,—
One so young and lovely, so full of beauty,
Grandeur, and glory.
Winds blow light; they dare not awake the sleeper,—
One so young and lovely, so full of beauty,
Grandeur, and glory.
Soft he sleeps, a child on his cross reposing,—
Smiles in peace, unknowing of future sorrows;
Bright and pure, as spirit of life,—as rose-bud,
Fresh in his beauty.
Smiles in peace, unknowing of future sorrows;
Bright and pure, as spirit of life,—as rose-bud,
Fresh in his beauty.
Yet that look reveals, in its pensive sweetness,
Deep and holy love, that will after lead him
Forth to heal and save, and to higher being
Kindly allure us.
Deep and holy love, that will after lead him
Forth to heal and save, and to higher being
Kindly allure us.
Now that cross the couch, where he sweetly slumbers:
When his deeds of love have alarmed and maddened,
On that cross, in death, he shall yield his spirit
Back to its heaven.
When his deeds of love have alarmed and maddened,
On that cross, in death, he shall yield his spirit
Back to its heaven.
342
ALCAIC.
To arms! to arms! the trumpet is summoning.
What heart is cold, when glory awakens us!
When youth, for hearth and shrine contending,
Rush to the shock, and in death are happy!
What heart is cold, when glory awakens us!
When youth, for hearth and shrine contending,
Rush to the shock, and in death are happy!
A holy feeling stirs, as the signal sounds.
To die for home, how high and how glorious!
The recreant only hears and trembles.
Give me my sword,—I will haste and meet them!
To die for home, how high and how glorious!
The recreant only hears and trembles.
Give me my sword,—I will haste and meet them!
Raise high the song,—the foe is discomfited!
Our sacred soil untouched and unsullied!
With laurel wreathed, by loved ones greeted,
Proudly we move, as the pæan echoes.
Our sacred soil untouched and unsullied!
With laurel wreathed, by loved ones greeted,
Proudly we move, as the pæan echoes.
ASCLEPIADIAN.
[I. Not for wealth or for power, conquest or victory]
Not for wealth or for power, conquest or victory,
Not for shout and applause, honor and dignity,
Speeds my soul to the strife; higher and holier
Is the feeling that wakens me.
Not for shout and applause, honor and dignity,
Speeds my soul to the strife; higher and holier
Is the feeling that wakens me.
Duty calls me to yield life and its happiness,
Calls me to part from friend, part from a dearer one;
Duty calls, and I know honors immortal wait,
Even when earth has forgotten me.
Calls me to part from friend, part from a dearer one;
Duty calls, and I know honors immortal wait,
Even when earth has forgotten me.
So I rush to the strife,—rush where the bravest yield.
They only look to renown; mightier impulses
Bear me on, as with wings,—on, till, victorious,
Death I greet as the foe retires.
They only look to renown; mightier impulses
Bear me on, as with wings,—on, till, victorious,
Death I greet as the foe retires.
343
[II. When the rose is in bloom, violets opening]
When the rose is in bloom, violets opening,
Fresh and dewy, their leaves, let me, in early morn,
Wake the slumbering echoes,
Till the mountains have caught the sound:
Fresh and dewy, their leaves, let me, in early morn,
Wake the slumbering echoes,
Till the mountains have caught the sound:
Till from loftiest height, deep to the winding dell,
Cave and forest repeat, vocal, my minstrelsy,
As if dryad were greeting
Sweetly the tones of my Alpine horn.
Cave and forest repeat, vocal, my minstrelsy,
As if dryad were greeting
Sweetly the tones of my Alpine horn.
Or when twilight grows dim, far in the rosy west,
And o'er green wood and crag sparkles the evening star,
Let me hear, in the distance,
Faintly the voice of the vesper hymn.
And o'er green wood and crag sparkles the evening star,
Let me hear, in the distance,
Faintly the voice of the vesper hymn.
Where the lake spreads its wave, clear to the rising moon,
O'er the water it steals, whispers along the shores,
As if song of Undine
Rose from her hall in the deep below.
O'er the water it steals, whispers along the shores,
As if song of Undine
Rose from her hall in the deep below.
| The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | |