 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
65
THE EPISODE OF Orpheus and Eurydice
At chorus æqualis Dryadum------
Her sudden death the Mountain-Dryads mourn'd,
And Rhodope's high brow the dirge return'd:
Bleak Orythŷa trembled at their woe,
And silver Hebrus murmur'd in his flow.
While to his mournful harp, unseen, alone,
Despairing Orpheus warbled out his moan.
With rosy dawn his plaintive lays begun,
His plaintive voice sung down the setting sun.
And Rhodope's high brow the dirge return'd:
Bleak Orythŷa trembled at their woe,
And silver Hebrus murmur'd in his flow.
66
Despairing Orpheus warbled out his moan.
With rosy dawn his plaintive lays begun,
His plaintive voice sung down the setting sun.
Now in the frantic bitterness of woe
Silent he treads the dreary realms below,
His loss in tender numbers to deplore,
And touch the souls who ne'er were touch'd before.
Mov'd with the pleasing harmony of song,
The shadowy spectres 'round the poet throng:
Num'rous as birds that o'er the forest play,
(When evening Phœbus rouls the light away:
Or when high Jove in wintry seasons pours
A sudden deluge from descending show'rs.)
The mother's ghost, the father's rev'rend shade,
The blooming hero, and th' unmarry'd maid:
The new-born heir who soon lamented dies,
And feeds the flames before his parent's eyes;
All whom Cocytus' sable water bounds,
And Styx with thrice three wand'ring streams surrounds.
Silent he treads the dreary realms below,
His loss in tender numbers to deplore,
And touch the souls who ne'er were touch'd before.
Mov'd with the pleasing harmony of song,
The shadowy spectres 'round the poet throng:
Num'rous as birds that o'er the forest play,
(When evening Phœbus rouls the light away:
Or when high Jove in wintry seasons pours
A sudden deluge from descending show'rs.)
The mother's ghost, the father's rev'rend shade,
The blooming hero, and th' unmarry'd maid:
67
And feeds the flames before his parent's eyes;
All whom Cocytus' sable water bounds,
And Styx with thrice three wand'ring streams surrounds.
See, the dread regions tremble and admire!
Ev'n Pain unmov'd stands heark'ning to the lyre.
Intent, Ixion stares, nor seems to feel
The rapid motions of the whirling wheel.
Th' unfolding snakes around the furies play,
As the pale sisters listen to the lay.
Ev'n Pain unmov'd stands heark'ning to the lyre.
Intent, Ixion stares, nor seems to feel
The rapid motions of the whirling wheel.
Th' unfolding snakes around the furies play,
As the pale sisters listen to the lay.
Nor was the poet's moving suit deny'd,
Again to realms above he bears his bride.
When (stern decree!) he turns his longing eyes. . .
'Tis done, she's lost, for ever ever flies—
Too small the fault, too lasting was the pain,
Could love but judge, or hell relent again!
Amaz'd he stands, and by the glimpse of day
Just sees th' unbody'd shadow flit away.
When thus she cry'd—ah, too unthoughtful spouse
Thus for one look to violate thy vows!
Fate bears me back, again to hell I fly,
Eternal darkness swims before my eye:
Again the melancholy plains I see,
Ravish'd from life, from pleasure, and from thee!
She said, and sinking into endless night,
Like exhalations vanish'd from the sight.
In vain he sprung to seize her, wept, or pray'd,
Swift glides away the visionary shade.
Again to realms above he bears his bride.
When (stern decree!) he turns his longing eyes. . .
'Tis done, she's lost, for ever ever flies—
Too small the fault, too lasting was the pain,
Could love but judge, or hell relent again!
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Just sees th' unbody'd shadow flit away.
When thus she cry'd—ah, too unthoughtful spouse
Thus for one look to violate thy vows!
Fate bears me back, again to hell I fly,
Eternal darkness swims before my eye:
Again the melancholy plains I see,
Ravish'd from life, from pleasure, and from thee!
She said, and sinking into endless night,
Like exhalations vanish'd from the sight.
In vain he sprung to seize her, wept, or pray'd,
Swift glides away the visionary shade.
How wilt thou now, unhappy Orpheus, tell
Thy second loss, and melt the pow'rs of hell?
Cold are those lips that blest thy soul before,
And her fair eyes must roul on thine no more.
Sev'n tedious moons despairing, wild he stood,
And told his woes to Strymon's freezing flood.
Beneath his feet eternal snows were spread,
And airy rocks hang nodding o'er his head,
The savage beasts in circles round him play,
And rapid streams stand list'ning to the lay.
Thy second loss, and melt the pow'rs of hell?
Cold are those lips that blest thy soul before,
And her fair eyes must roul on thine no more.
69
And told his woes to Strymon's freezing flood.
Beneath his feet eternal snows were spread,
And airy rocks hang nodding o'er his head,
The savage beasts in circles round him play,
And rapid streams stand list'ning to the lay.
So when the shepherd-swain with curious eyes
Marks the fair nest, and makes the young his prize:
Sad Philomel, in poplar shades alone,
In vain renews her lamentable moan.
From night to morn she chaunts her tender love,
And mournful music dies along the grove.
Marks the fair nest, and makes the young his prize:
Sad Philomel, in poplar shades alone,
In vain renews her lamentable moan.
From night to morn she chaunts her tender love,
And mournful music dies along the grove.
No thoughts of pleasure now his soul employ,
Averse to Venus and the nuptial joy:
Wild as the winds o'er Thracia's plains he roves,
O'er the bleak mountains, and the leafless groves.
When stung with rage the Bacchanalian train
Rush'd to the Bard, and stretch'd him on the plain;
(Nor sounds, nor pray'rs their giddy fury move,
And he must cease to live, or learn to love)
See, from his shoulders in a moment flies
His bleeding head, and now, ah now he dies!
Yet as he dy'd, Eurydice he mourn'd,
Eurydice, the trembling banks return'd;
Eurydice, with hollow voice he cry'd,
Eurydice, ran murm'ring down the tide.
Averse to Venus and the nuptial joy:
Wild as the winds o'er Thracia's plains he roves,
O'er the bleak mountains, and the leafless groves.
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Rush'd to the Bard, and stretch'd him on the plain;
(Nor sounds, nor pray'rs their giddy fury move,
And he must cease to live, or learn to love)
See, from his shoulders in a moment flies
His bleeding head, and now, ah now he dies!
Yet as he dy'd, Eurydice he mourn'd,
Eurydice, the trembling banks return'd;
Eurydice, with hollow voice he cry'd,
Eurydice, ran murm'ring down the tide.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |