Medulla Poetarum Romanorum Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker |
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Ghost.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Ghost.
See Purgatory.
—The
flitting Shade
All pale, as Death, despoil'd of his Array,
Into his Wife's Apartment takes his Way,
And stands before the Bed, at Dawn of Day:
Unmov'd his Eyes, and wet his Beard appears;
And shedding vain, but seeming real Tears;
The briny Water dripping from his Hairs.
Then staring on her with a ghastly Look,
And hollow Voice, he thus his Wife bespoke.
Know'st Thou not me?—not yet?—unhappy Wife!
Are then my Features perish'd with my Life?
Look once again, and for thy Husband lost,
Lo all that's left of him, thy Husband's Ghost!
Thy Vows for my Return were all in vain,
The stormy South o'ertook Us in the Main,
And never shalt Thou see thy living Lord again.
Rise, wretched Widow! rise: nor undeplor'd
Permit my Soul to pass the Stygian Ford:
But rise, prepar'd, in Black, to mourn thy perish'd Lord.
All pale, as Death, despoil'd of his Array,
Into his Wife's Apartment takes his Way,
And stands before the Bed, at Dawn of Day:
Unmov'd his Eyes, and wet his Beard appears;
And shedding vain, but seeming real Tears;
The briny Water dripping from his Hairs.
Then staring on her with a ghastly Look,
And hollow Voice, he thus his Wife bespoke.
Know'st Thou not me?—not yet?—unhappy Wife!
Are then my Features perish'd with my Life?
Look once again, and for thy Husband lost,
Lo all that's left of him, thy Husband's Ghost!
Thy Vows for my Return were all in vain,
The stormy South o'ertook Us in the Main,
And never shalt Thou see thy living Lord again.
Rise, wretched Widow! rise: nor undeplor'd
Permit my Soul to pass the Stygian Ford:
But rise, prepar'd, in Black, to mourn thy perish'd Lord.
423
Frighted Halcyone with Grief oppress'd,
Sigh'd deep, and wept, and sleeping beat her Breast:
Stretch'd forth her Arms his Body to embrace,
Her clasping Arms find only empty Space.
Stay, stay, she cry'd: Ah! whither dost Thou flee?
We'll go together wheresoe'er it be.
Then round she cast her Eyes, in hopes to view
Her vanish'd Lord, and prove the Vision true.
Tir'd with the Search, not finding what she seeks,
With cruel Blows she pounds her blubber'd Cheeks,
And from her beaten Breast the Linnen tare,
And cut the golden Caul that bound her Hair.
Her Nurse demands the Cause; with louder Cries
She prosecutes her Griefs, and thus replies:
I saw, I saw him manifest in view,
His Voice, his Figure, and his Gestures knew:
His Beauty not, as once, divinely fair,
But pale, and naked, with wet dropping Hair.
I would have strain'd him with a strict Embrace,
But thro' my Arms he slip'd, and vanish'd from the Place.
These: ev'n just there he stood:—and as she spoke,
Where last the Spectre was she cast her Look:
Fain would she hope, and gaz'd upon the Ground,
To see if any Footsteps might be found.—
Sigh'd deep, and wept, and sleeping beat her Breast:
Stretch'd forth her Arms his Body to embrace,
Her clasping Arms find only empty Space.
Stay, stay, she cry'd: Ah! whither dost Thou flee?
We'll go together wheresoe'er it be.
Then round she cast her Eyes, in hopes to view
Her vanish'd Lord, and prove the Vision true.
Tir'd with the Search, not finding what she seeks,
With cruel Blows she pounds her blubber'd Cheeks,
And from her beaten Breast the Linnen tare,
And cut the golden Caul that bound her Hair.
Her Nurse demands the Cause; with louder Cries
She prosecutes her Griefs, and thus replies:
I saw, I saw him manifest in view,
His Voice, his Figure, and his Gestures knew:
His Beauty not, as once, divinely fair,
But pale, and naked, with wet dropping Hair.
I would have strain'd him with a strict Embrace,
But thro' my Arms he slip'd, and vanish'd from the Place.
These: ev'n just there he stood:—and as she spoke,
Where last the Spectre was she cast her Look:
Fain would she hope, and gaz'd upon the Ground,
To see if any Footsteps might be found.—
Ceyx being drowned at Sea, Juno sends the Vision here described, to his Wise Halcyone, to apprize her of his Death.
Sichæus, and before his Altars slew,
Impious, and blinded with the Love of Gold,
Regardless of his Sister's Love: and long
Conceal'd the Fact: and, with Pretences vain
Dissembling, mock'd the pining Lover's Hopes.
But in a Dream, with Visage wondrous pale,
The Ghost of her unbury'd Husband came:
The cruel Altars, and his wounded Breast,
And all the hidden Villany disclos'd:
Warn'd her to fly her Country: and, to aid
Her Flight, reveal'd a Treasure hid in Earth,
An unknown Mass of Silver and of Gold.—
425
Thus as I search'd impatient o'er the Town,
With endless Labour: to my Eyes appear'd
Her pensive Ghost, my dear Creüsa's Shade,
A Form enlarg'd, and bigger than the Life.
Aghast I stood: uprose my Hair erect:
And to my Mouth my Speech with Horror cleav'd.
At length she spoke, and thus reliev'd my Cares:
Why, my dear Lord, do You so far indulge
Your restless Toil? Without the Powers divine
These Things are not dispos'd.—
With endless Labour: to my Eyes appear'd
Her pensive Ghost, my dear Creüsa's Shade,
A Form enlarg'd, and bigger than the Life.
Aghast I stood: uprose my Hair erect:
And to my Mouth my Speech with Horror cleav'd.
At length she spoke, and thus reliev'd my Cares:
Why, my dear Lord, do You so far indulge
Your restless Toil? Without the Powers divine
These Things are not dispos'd.—
—Farewell: and love
Your Son, our common Care.—Thus having spoke,
Me weeping, and a thousand Things to say
Desiring, she forsook, and vanish'd swift
Into the yielding Air.—I thrice essay'd
About her Neck to throw my folding Arms:
Thrice, vainly grasp'd at, from their Circle flew
Th' unbodied Fantom, light as fleeting Winds,
And like a slipp'ry Dream.—
Your Son, our common Care.—Thus having spoke,
Me weeping, and a thousand Things to say
Desiring, she forsook, and vanish'd swift
Into the yielding Air.—I thrice essay'd
About her Neck to throw my folding Arms:
Thrice, vainly grasp'd at, from their Circle flew
Th' unbodied Fantom, light as fleeting Winds,
And like a slipp'ry Dream.—
—The Night now driving on her sable Car,
Possess'd the Pole: When suddenly the Form
Of old Anchises seem'd to slide from Heav'n:
And from his awful Mouth these Accents fell:
My Son, more dear to me than Life, while Life
Remain'd.—
Possess'd the Pole: When suddenly the Form
Of old Anchises seem'd to slide from Heav'n:
And from his awful Mouth these Accents fell:
My Son, more dear to me than Life, while Life
Remain'd.—
Hither I come, dispatch'd by Sovereign Jove;
—For Me the impious Gloom
Of Tartarus accurs'd, and dreary Shades
Do not detain: But in th' Elysian Fields,
And happy Regions of the Blest I dwell.
—But now, adieu:
The dewy Night rolls on her middle Course:
And with his panting Steeds the rising Sun
Severe has breath'd upon me. Thus he said,
And flew, like Smoke, into the fleeting Air.—
Among the rest, fresh reeking from her Wound,
—For Me the impious Gloom
Of Tartarus accurs'd, and dreary Shades
Do not detain: But in th' Elysian Fields,
And happy Regions of the Blest I dwell.
—But now, adieu:
The dewy Night rolls on her middle Course:
And with his panting Steeds the rising Sun
Severe has breath'd upon me. Thus he said,
And flew, like Smoke, into the fleeting Air.—
In the vast Grove Phœnician Dido roams:
Soon as the Trojan Hero near her stood,
427
At the first op'ning of the Month one sees,
Or thinks one sees, thro' Clouds the rising Moon:
Tears he let fall: and thus with Fondness speaks.
Unhappy Dido!—
Your Death, alas! I caus'd: but by the Stars,
And by the Gods, I swear, by all the Faith
Beneath the Earth, if any such there be,
Unwillingly, O Queen! I left your Coasts.
Thus Her, with Indignation frowning stern,
With Tears and Blandishments Æneas sooth'd.—
She bends her Eyes averse upon the Ground,
And by his Speech begun is mov'd no more
Than the deaf Rocks, when the loud Billows roar:
But whirls away, to shun his hateful Sight,
Hid in the Forest and the Shades of Night.
Some pious Tears the pitying Hero paid,
And follow'd with his Eyes the flitting Shade.—
The thronging Ghosts stand round on either Side:
Some raise a feeble Cry, with trembling Notes:
But the weak Voice deceives their gasping Throats.
Here Priam's Son, Deiphobus, he found,
Whose Face and Limbs were one continu'd Wound:
Dishonest, with lopp'd Arms, the Youth appears,
Spoil'd of his Nose, and shortned of his Ears.
He scarcely knew him, striving to disown
His blotted Form, and blushing to be known.—
—So saying, he bedew'd
His Face with flowing Tears: and thrice assay'd
About his Neck to throw his folding Arms:
Thrice, vainly grasp'd at, from their Circle flew
Th' unbody'd Fantom: light as fleeting Winds,
And like a slipp'ry Dream.—
—Behold, she cries,
Again the cruel Fates remand me back:
And now Farewell: with Darkness round inclos'd
I fleet away, and vainly stretch to Thee
(Ah! now no longer thine) These helpless Hands.
429
Thro' the thin Air, flew diverse: Nor by Him,
Grasping at Shades in vain, and thousand Things
To say desiring, was e'er after seen.
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |