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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Magic Power.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Magic Power.
See Circe. Enchantress.
Charms ev'n from Heav'n can conjure down the Moon:
Circe with Charms Ulysses' Mates transform'd:
In Meadows the cold Snake with Charms is burst.
Circe with Charms Ulysses' Mates transform'd:
In Meadows the cold Snake with Charms is burst.
These Poisons, and these magic Simples, cull'd
In Pontus (many such in Pontus grow)
Sage Mœris gave me: Oft with These I've seen
Mœris into a Wolf himself transform,
And howling seek the Woods: oft raise up Ghosts
From Graves: and Crops to Fields not their's transfer.—
A wreath-horn'd Ram is brought, so far o'ergrown
In Pontus (many such in Pontus grow)
Sage Mœris gave me: Oft with These I've seen
Mœris into a Wolf himself transform,
And howling seek the Woods: oft raise up Ghosts
From Graves: and Crops to Fields not their's transfer.—
With Years, his Years was to that Age unknown:
His craggy Throat she cuts, and lets out Life:
The little Blood scarce stains the wounding Knife.
The Carcass in the boiling Cauldron swims,
And Drugs are blended with the mangled Limbs:
Each Limb, now lessen'd by Degrees, appears,
He casts his Horns, and with his Horns his Years,
And soon a tender Bleating strikes their Ears.
While they admire, forth skips a frisking Lamb,
That bounds away, and wants to suck the Dam.—
The coldest Hearts Thessalian Numbers warm,
And ruthless Bosoms own the potent Charm:
In frozen Age they rouse perverse Desire,
And kindle into Lust the wintry Sire.
Where noxious Cups, and pois'nous Philters fail,
More potent Spells, and mystic Verse prevail.
No Draught so strong the
Knots of Love prepare,
Cropt from her Younglings by the Parent Mare.
Ev'n those whom neither Ties of nuptial Love,
Nor Beauty's radiant Blandishments could move,
Melt, as the Thread runs on, and sighing, feel
The giddy Whirling of the magic Wheel.
And ruthless Bosoms own the potent Charm:
In frozen Age they rouse perverse Desire,
And kindle into Lust the wintry Sire.
Where noxious Cups, and pois'nous Philters fail,
More potent Spells, and mystic Verse prevail.
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Cropt from her Younglings by the Parent Mare.
Ev'n those whom neither Ties of nuptial Love,
Nor Beauty's radiant Blandishments could move,
Melt, as the Thread runs on, and sighing, feel
The giddy Whirling of the magic Wheel.
Charm'd by the Hag's all powerful Command,
Eternal Motion stops her active Hand:
The glorious Sun forgets his Time to rise,
And pitchy Night pollutes the sable Skies:
No more Heav'n's rapid Circles roll away,
But universal Nature's at a Stay:
Great Jupiter, with Wonder, sees the Pole,
Urg'd onward by himself, refuse to roll.
Now, at a Word, the Rains pour down apace,
And bellying Clouds obscure the Sun's bright Face:
Surpriz'd again, from his celestial Tow'r,
Jove hears around unbidden Thunders roar:
Once more they speak, and shake their flowing Hair,
And strait the Storms are gone, the Heav'ns are fair.
In the still Calm they bid the Waves run high,
Or smooth the Deep, tho' Boreas shakes the Sky;
The stretching Canvas swell against the Wind:
This blows before, and that is fill'd behind.
Streams have run back at Murmurs of their Tongue,
And Torrents from the Rock, suspended, hung.—
Eternal Motion stops her active Hand:
The glorious Sun forgets his Time to rise,
And pitchy Night pollutes the sable Skies:
No more Heav'n's rapid Circles roll away,
But universal Nature's at a Stay:
Great Jupiter, with Wonder, sees the Pole,
Urg'd onward by himself, refuse to roll.
Now, at a Word, the Rains pour down apace,
And bellying Clouds obscure the Sun's bright Face:
Surpriz'd again, from his celestial Tow'r,
Jove hears around unbidden Thunders roar:
Once more they speak, and shake their flowing Hair,
And strait the Storms are gone, the Heav'ns are fair.
In the still Calm they bid the Waves run high,
Or smooth the Deep, tho' Boreas shakes the Sky;
The stretching Canvas swell against the Wind:
This blows before, and that is fill'd behind.
Streams have run back at Murmurs of their Tongue,
And Torrents from the Rock, suspended, hung.—
Little fleshy Excrescencies upon the Foreheads of Foals, which the Mares bite off as soon as they are foaled. If they are hindered from so doing, and these Knots are cut away, 'tis said they'll hate their Foals, and not suffer them to suck. They were accounted of mighty Efficacy in Love Potions.
Fear the dire Hags, and execute their Will.
Lions, to them, their nobler Rage submit,
And fawning Tygers couch beneath their Feet.
For them the Snake forgoes her wintry Hold,
And on the hoary Frost untwines her Fold.
The mangled Viper they can re-unite,
Or with their poys'nous Breath the Serpent split.—
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And shoot them headlong, gleaming thro' the Air:
Can blot fair Cynthia's Countenance serene,
And poison with foul Spells the silver Queen:
Now, pale, the ghastly Goddess shrinks with Dread,
And now, black smoky Fires involve her Head:
As when Earth's envious interposing Shade,
Cuts off her beamy Brother from her Aid.
Held by the potent Charm, she strives in vain,
And labours with the long pursuing Pain:
Till down, and downward still, compell'd to come,
On hallow'd Herbs she sheds her fatal Foam.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |