 | The poetical works of John Trumbull . |  |
131
THE SPEECH OF PROTEUS TO ARISTÆUS, CONTAINING THE STORY OF ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE;
Translated from the 4th book of Virgil's Georgics. A collegiate exercise.
June 1770.
A GOD pursues thee with immortal hate,
By crimes provoked, that wake the wrath of fate;
In guiltless woe the hapless Orpheus died,
And calls the powers t' avenge his injured bride.
By crimes provoked, that wake the wrath of fate;
In guiltless woe the hapless Orpheus died,
And calls the powers t' avenge his injured bride.
Along the stream, with flying steps she strove
To shun the fury of thy lawless love,
Unhappy Fair! nor on the fated way
Saw the dire snake, that ambush'd for his prey.
To shun the fury of thy lawless love,
Unhappy Fair! nor on the fated way
Saw the dire snake, that ambush'd for his prey.
132
Her sister Dryades wail'd the deadly wound,
The lofty hills their melting cries resound;
Then wept the rocks of Rhodope, the towers
Of high Pangæus, and the Rhesian shores;
The mournful sounds the Attic lands convey,
And Hebrus rolls in sadden'd waves away.
The lofty hills their melting cries resound;
Then wept the rocks of Rhodope, the towers
Of high Pangæus, and the Rhesian shores;
The mournful sounds the Attic lands convey,
And Hebrus rolls in sadden'd waves away.
He, on his lyre, essay'd with tuneful art
To sooth the ceaseless anguish of his heart;
Thee, his fair bride, to lone distress a prey,
Thee sung at rising, thee at falling day.
Then sought the realms of death and Stygian Jove,
Through blackening horrors of th' infernal grove,
Mid direful ghosts and powers of deep despair,
Unknown to pity and unmoved by prayer.
From Hell's dark shores, to Orpheus' melting song,
On every side the gloomy nations throng;
Thin, airy shades, pale spectres lost to light,
Like fancied forms, that glide athwart the night.
As flitting birds, in summer's checquer'd shade,
Dance on the boughs and flutter through the glade,
Or seek the woods, when night descends amain,
And pours in storms along the wintry plain:
Men, matrons, round the sweet musician press'd,
The spouseless maidens and the youths unblest,
Snatch'd from their parents' eyes, or doom'd to yield
In war's dire combats on the crimson field;
Whom the deep fens, that drain the moory ground,
And black Cocytus' reedy lake surround,
Where baleful Styx her mournful margin laves,
And deadly Lethe rolls th' oblivious waves.
To sooth the ceaseless anguish of his heart;
Thee, his fair bride, to lone distress a prey,
Thee sung at rising, thee at falling day.
Then sought the realms of death and Stygian Jove,
Through blackening horrors of th' infernal grove,
Mid direful ghosts and powers of deep despair,
Unknown to pity and unmoved by prayer.
133
On every side the gloomy nations throng;
Thin, airy shades, pale spectres lost to light,
Like fancied forms, that glide athwart the night.
As flitting birds, in summer's checquer'd shade,
Dance on the boughs and flutter through the glade,
Or seek the woods, when night descends amain,
And pours in storms along the wintry plain:
Men, matrons, round the sweet musician press'd,
The spouseless maidens and the youths unblest,
Snatch'd from their parents' eyes, or doom'd to yield
In war's dire combats on the crimson field;
Whom the deep fens, that drain the moory ground,
And black Cocytus' reedy lake surround,
134
And deadly Lethe rolls th' oblivious waves.
Hell heard the song; and fix'd in deep amaze,
On the sweet bard the snaky Furies gaze;
Grim Cerb'rus hung entranced; and ceased to reel
The giddy circle of Ixion's wheel.
On the sweet bard the snaky Furies gaze;
Grim Cerb'rus hung entranced; and ceased to reel
The giddy circle of Ixion's wheel.
These dangers 'scaped, he seeks the upper air;
Elate with joy, and follow'd by the Fair;
Such law the fates imposed: but doom'd to prove
The sudden madness of ill-omen'd love;
Could Fate relent, or melt at human woe,
A venial crime, were venial aught below!
Light gleam'd at hand, the shades of death retire;
With wishes wild and vanquish'd with desire,
His fears forgot, he turn'd; his lovely bride,
Given to his hope, with trembling glance espied.
There end thy joys, and vanish'd into air
Thy fancied raptures and thy fruitless care;
Broke is the league, and thrice tremendous roars
The warning thunder on th' infernal shores.
Elate with joy, and follow'd by the Fair;
Such law the fates imposed: but doom'd to prove
The sudden madness of ill-omen'd love;
Could Fate relent, or melt at human woe,
A venial crime, were venial aught below!
Light gleam'd at hand, the shades of death retire;
With wishes wild and vanquish'd with desire,
135
Given to his hope, with trembling glance espied.
There end thy joys, and vanish'd into air
Thy fancied raptures and thy fruitless care;
Broke is the league, and thrice tremendous roars
The warning thunder on th' infernal shores.
What rage, she cried, thus blasts our joys again,
Pair'd in sad fates and doom'd to endless pain!
Hark! the dread summons calls me back to woes;
My swimming eyes eternal slumbers close;
A last farewell! the stygian horrors rise,
And roll'd in night my parting spirit flies;
Vain my weak arms, extended to restore
The bridal hand, that must be thine no more.
Pair'd in sad fates and doom'd to endless pain!
Hark! the dread summons calls me back to woes;
My swimming eyes eternal slumbers close;
A last farewell! the stygian horrors rise,
And roll'd in night my parting spirit flies;
Vain my weak arms, extended to restore
The bridal hand, that must be thine no more.
136
She said, and vanish'd instant from his eye,
Like melting smoke, that mingles with the sky.
No kind embrace his deepening grief t' allay,
No farewell word, though much he wish'd to say,
Nor hope remain'd. Stern Charon now no more
Consents to waft him to the adverse shore.
Again divorced from all his soul must love,
No tears could melt, nor songs the fates could move.
Her, breathless, pale, to mansions of the grave,
The bark bore floating on the stygian wave.
Like melting smoke, that mingles with the sky.
No kind embrace his deepening grief t' allay,
No farewell word, though much he wish'd to say,
Nor hope remain'd. Stern Charon now no more
Consents to waft him to the adverse shore.
Again divorced from all his soul must love,
No tears could melt, nor songs the fates could move.
Her, breathless, pale, to mansions of the grave,
The bark bore floating on the stygian wave.
In gelid caves with horrid glooms array'd,
Where cloud-topt hills project an awful shade,
Along the margin of the desert shore,
Where lonely Strymon's rushing waters roar,
Seven hapless months he wept his fatal love,
His ravish'd bride, and blamed relentless Jove.
Stern tigers soften'd at the tuneful sound,
The thickets move, the forests dance around:
So in some poplar's shade, with soothing song
Sad Philomela mourns her captive young,
When some rude swain hath found th' unfeather'd
Her nest despoil'd and borne the prize away;
Through the long night she breathes her tuneful strain, prey,
The slow, deep moan resounds, and echoes o'er the plain.
Where cloud-topt hills project an awful shade,
Along the margin of the desert shore,
Where lonely Strymon's rushing waters roar,
137
His ravish'd bride, and blamed relentless Jove.
Stern tigers soften'd at the tuneful sound,
The thickets move, the forests dance around:
So in some poplar's shade, with soothing song
Sad Philomela mourns her captive young,
When some rude swain hath found th' unfeather'd
Her nest despoil'd and borne the prize away;
Through the long night she breathes her tuneful strain, prey,
The slow, deep moan resounds, and echoes o'er the plain.
Pleasure no more his soul estranged could move,
The charms of beauty, or the joys of love.
Alone he stray'd where freezing Tanais flows
Through drear wastes, wedded to perennial snows,
Mourn'd his lost bride, th' infernal power's deceit,
And cursed the vain, illusive gifts of fate.
The charms of beauty, or the joys of love.
Alone he stray'd where freezing Tanais flows
Through drear wastes, wedded to perennial snows,
138
And cursed the vain, illusive gifts of fate.
When Bacchus' orgies stain'd the midnight skies,
Their proffers scorn'd, the Thracian matrons rise.
Their hopeless rage the bleeding victim tore,
His sever'd limbs are scatter'd on the shore,
Rent from his breathless corse, swift Hebrus sweeps
His gory visage to the opening deeps.
Yet when cold death sate trembling on his tongue,
With fainting soul, Eurydice, he sung;
Ah dearest, lost Eurydice! he cries;
Eurydice, the plaintive shore replies.
Their proffers scorn'd, the Thracian matrons rise.
Their hopeless rage the bleeding victim tore,
His sever'd limbs are scatter'd on the shore,
Rent from his breathless corse, swift Hebrus sweeps
His gory visage to the opening deeps.
Yet when cold death sate trembling on his tongue,
With fainting soul, Eurydice, he sung;
Ah dearest, lost Eurydice! he cries;
Eurydice, the plaintive shore replies.
| The poetical works of John Trumbull . | |