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 |
 | I. |
|
|
| II. |
|
|
Pilot.
|
|
 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Pilot.
See Navigation.
Scarce half the Hours of silent Night were fled,
When careful Palinure forsakes his Bed:
And ev'ry Breath explores that stirs the Seas,
And watchful listens to the passing Breeze:
Observes the Course of ev'ry Orb on high,
That moves in silent Pomp along the Sky:
Arcturus, dreadful with his stormy Star,
The watry Hyads, and the northern Car:
In the blew Vault his piercing Eyes behold,
The huge Orion flame in Arms of Gold.
When all serene he saw th' Etherial Plain,
He gave the Signal to the slumb'ring Train:
Our Tents we strike: the Canvas We display,
And wing with spreading Sails the watry Way.—
When careful Palinure forsakes his Bed:
229
And watchful listens to the passing Breeze:
Observes the Course of ev'ry Orb on high,
That moves in silent Pomp along the Sky:
Arcturus, dreadful with his stormy Star,
The watry Hyads, and the northern Car:
In the blew Vault his piercing Eyes behold,
The huge Orion flame in Arms of Gold.
When all serene he saw th' Etherial Plain,
He gave the Signal to the slumb'ring Train:
Our Tents we strike: the Canvas We display,
And wing with spreading Sails the watry Way.—
Now, on the full extended Main, the Land
No more appear'd: but all was Sea, and Sky:
A dusky Cloud hung gather'd o'er his Head,
Bringing on Night, and Storm: upon the Waves
Lay horrid Darkness: from the lofty Deck
The Pilot's self, ev'n Palinurus, cries,
What Clouds, alas! invelop all the Heav'ns?
Or what, great Neptune! does thy Will intend?
This said, he gives command to furl their Sails,
And strongly ply their Oars: Then turns oblique
His Canvas to the Wind, and Thus proceeds:
Magnanimous Æneas, should ev'n Jove
By promising assure my Voyage safe,
I could not in this Weather hope to reach
The Coasts of Italy. The Winds transverse
Roar chang'd, and from the low'ring West arise:
And all the Air is thicken'd to a Cloud
Nor have We Strength to bear against the Stress
Of Sea, and Sky: Since Fortune all o'er-powers,
Her let Us follow, and where-e'er she calls,
Direct our Course.—
No more appear'd: but all was Sea, and Sky:
A dusky Cloud hung gather'd o'er his Head,
Bringing on Night, and Storm: upon the Waves
Lay horrid Darkness: from the lofty Deck
The Pilot's self, ev'n Palinurus, cries,
What Clouds, alas! invelop all the Heav'ns?
Or what, great Neptune! does thy Will intend?
This said, he gives command to furl their Sails,
And strongly ply their Oars: Then turns oblique
His Canvas to the Wind, and Thus proceeds:
Magnanimous Æneas, should ev'n Jove
By promising assure my Voyage safe,
I could not in this Weather hope to reach
The Coasts of Italy. The Winds transverse
Roar chang'd, and from the low'ring West arise:
And all the Air is thicken'd to a Cloud
Nor have We Strength to bear against the Stress
Of Sea, and Sky: Since Fortune all o'er-powers,
Her let Us follow, and where-e'er she calls,
Direct our Course.—
No Hand the Helm more skilfully could guide,
Or stem the Fury of the boist'rous Tide:
He knew what Winds would on the Morrow blow,
And how the Sails for Safety to bestow:
Celestial Signals well he could descry,
Could read the radiant Lights that shine on high,
And tell the coming Tempest of the Sky.
When from some hostile Hand a fatal Dart,
Deep piercing, trembled in his panting Heart:
Yet still his careful Hand it's Task supplies,
And turns the guiding Rudder as he dies.—
Or stem the Fury of the boist'rous Tide:
He knew what Winds would on the Morrow blow,
And how the Sails for Safety to bestow:
231
Could read the radiant Lights that shine on high,
And tell the coming Tempest of the Sky.
When from some hostile Hand a fatal Dart,
Deep piercing, trembled in his panting Heart:
Yet still his careful Hand it's Task supplies,
And turns the guiding Rudder as he dies.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |