The Idyllia, Epigrams, and Fragments, of Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus with the Elegies of Tyrtaeus, Translated from the Greek into English Verse. To which are Added, Dissertations and Notes. By the Rev. Richard Polwhele |
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| XVIII. | IDYLLIUM the EIGHTEENTH. The EPITHALAMIUM of HELEN. |
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 | The Idyllia, Epigrams, and Fragments, of Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus |  |
143
IDYLLIUM the EIGHTEENTH. The EPITHALAMIUM of HELEN.
In Sparta, once, when Atreus' younger Son
The Prize of peerless Charms in Helen won,
Twelve Maids, the fairest of the Spartan Fair,
(Soft hyacinthine Wreaths adorn'd their Hair)
Twelve lovely Maids, Lacænæ's noblest Pride,
Approach'd the tap'stried Chamber of the Bride;
Led their gay Dances at the bridal Room,
And fill'd with choral Song the festive Dome;
To the light Measure as they beat the Ground,
And glanc'd their many-twinkling Feet around.
‘Why sleep, dear Bridegroom! (was the nuptial Lay)
‘Ere Night's pale Curtain shades the twilight Day?
‘Why thus repose thee on thy downy Bed?
‘Say, have too plenteous Wines opprest thy Head?
‘Dear Bridegroom, slumber, if thou wilt, at Eve—
‘Yet leave the Bride—the lovely Helen leave!
‘Come, with her Fellow-Virgins let her play;
‘And own a Mother's Care, 'till Dawn of Day!
‘For, if a few short Maiden Hours be past,
‘Think, think, impatient Man, they are her last!
‘From Morn to Night—from Year to Year thy Wife,
‘Thrice happy Bridegroom, she is thine for Life!
‘Sure, Cupid's lucky Sneeze inspir'd thy Love,
‘To seek a Father in Saturnian Jove;
‘And blest among the Demigods, to gain
‘The brightest Nymph of all the Achaian Train.
‘If, featur'd with their Mother's Charms, they rise,
‘Well may thy beauteous Offspring grace the Skies!
‘Of all our Virgin Tribes, that oft are seen
‘Anointed for the Revels of the Green,
‘Beside Eurotas' cooling Baths—not one
‘A spotless Form, compar'd with Helen, shone.
‘For, as the Cypress in the Garden, fair,
‘Or the tall Steed that draws Thessalia's Car,
‘Or as the Rising of the purple Morn,
‘When far—far off the wint'ry Clouds are borne—
‘Ev'n as the Morn, when Spring's soft Zephyr blows,
‘With roseate Charms the golden Helen, glows.
‘In Toil unrivall'd, as in Beauty's Bloom,
‘Behold her various Labors of the Loom!
‘In Webs, no Spartan Female e'er display'd
‘Such Colors melting into mellow Shade.
‘See, with unequall'd Grace she sweeps the Strings,
‘Whether to her according Harp she sings
‘Minerva's Name, or wakes the liquid Fire,
‘In chaste Diana's Praise, along the Lyre!
‘See, (as the lyric Murmurs sweetly die)
‘Love, charming Boy, sits playing in her Eye.
‘Ah, gentle Girl! no longer of our Train—
‘Yet we, when Morning-light illumes the Plain,
‘Will crop the Meadow-leaves, that sweetly breathe,
‘To weave for thee a variegated Wreath!
‘And mourn thee, as the solitary Lamb
‘Laments with plaintive Cries its absent Dam.
‘Be flowering Lotus twin'd, that loves the Ground,
‘And with its Wreath the Plane-tree Branches crown'd;
‘While dropping on the shaded Turf below,
‘From silver Shells ambrosial Unguents flow.
‘And let us grave this Line, in Dorian Strain,
“Revere me, Traveller: I am Helen's Plane.”
The Prize of peerless Charms in Helen won,
Twelve Maids, the fairest of the Spartan Fair,
(Soft hyacinthine Wreaths adorn'd their Hair)
Twelve lovely Maids, Lacænæ's noblest Pride,
Approach'd the tap'stried Chamber of the Bride;
Led their gay Dances at the bridal Room,
And fill'd with choral Song the festive Dome;
To the light Measure as they beat the Ground,
And glanc'd their many-twinkling Feet around.
‘Why sleep, dear Bridegroom! (was the nuptial Lay)
‘Ere Night's pale Curtain shades the twilight Day?
‘Why thus repose thee on thy downy Bed?
‘Say, have too plenteous Wines opprest thy Head?
‘Dear Bridegroom, slumber, if thou wilt, at Eve—
‘Yet leave the Bride—the lovely Helen leave!
144
‘And own a Mother's Care, 'till Dawn of Day!
‘For, if a few short Maiden Hours be past,
‘Think, think, impatient Man, they are her last!
‘From Morn to Night—from Year to Year thy Wife,
‘Thrice happy Bridegroom, she is thine for Life!
‘Sure, Cupid's lucky Sneeze inspir'd thy Love,
‘To seek a Father in Saturnian Jove;
‘And blest among the Demigods, to gain
‘The brightest Nymph of all the Achaian Train.
‘If, featur'd with their Mother's Charms, they rise,
‘Well may thy beauteous Offspring grace the Skies!
‘Of all our Virgin Tribes, that oft are seen
‘Anointed for the Revels of the Green,
‘Beside Eurotas' cooling Baths—not one
‘A spotless Form, compar'd with Helen, shone.
‘For, as the Cypress in the Garden, fair,
‘Or the tall Steed that draws Thessalia's Car,
‘Or as the Rising of the purple Morn,
‘When far—far off the wint'ry Clouds are borne—
145
‘With roseate Charms the golden Helen, glows.
‘In Toil unrivall'd, as in Beauty's Bloom,
‘Behold her various Labors of the Loom!
‘In Webs, no Spartan Female e'er display'd
‘Such Colors melting into mellow Shade.
‘See, with unequall'd Grace she sweeps the Strings,
‘Whether to her according Harp she sings
‘Minerva's Name, or wakes the liquid Fire,
‘In chaste Diana's Praise, along the Lyre!
‘See, (as the lyric Murmurs sweetly die)
‘Love, charming Boy, sits playing in her Eye.
‘Ah, gentle Girl! no longer of our Train—
‘Yet we, when Morning-light illumes the Plain,
‘Will crop the Meadow-leaves, that sweetly breathe,
‘To weave for thee a variegated Wreath!
‘And mourn thee, as the solitary Lamb
‘Laments with plaintive Cries its absent Dam.
‘Be flowering Lotus twin'd, that loves the Ground,
‘And with its Wreath the Plane-tree Branches crown'd;
146
‘From silver Shells ambrosial Unguents flow.
‘And let us grave this Line, in Dorian Strain,
“Revere me, Traveller: I am Helen's Plane.”
‘Hail, happy Pair, by smiling Hymen led!
‘Hail, happy Pair, may Venus bless your Bed!
‘May kind Latona mark your mutual Love!
‘May Riches crown your Bliss—the Gift of Jove!
‘Long may they grace the hereditary Throne;
‘And roll, in splendid Tides, from Sire to Son!
‘Now sleep—and breathing on each Breast Desire,
‘Temper with sweet Esteem your amorous Fire!
‘Yet rise, as Crimson streaks the Orient grey—
‘Remember—we shall chaunt the choral Lay,
‘Soon as the Cock shall stretch his plumed Throat,
‘Shake his gay Crest, and sound his early Note!
‘Sleep on, blest Pair! A numerous Offspring raise;
‘And give to Hymen's Joys your golden Days!
‘Hail, happy Pair, may Venus bless your Bed!
‘May kind Latona mark your mutual Love!
‘May Riches crown your Bliss—the Gift of Jove!
‘Long may they grace the hereditary Throne;
‘And roll, in splendid Tides, from Sire to Son!
‘Now sleep—and breathing on each Breast Desire,
‘Temper with sweet Esteem your amorous Fire!
‘Yet rise, as Crimson streaks the Orient grey—
‘Remember—we shall chaunt the choral Lay,
‘Soon as the Cock shall stretch his plumed Throat,
‘Shake his gay Crest, and sound his early Note!
‘Sleep on, blest Pair! A numerous Offspring raise;
‘And give to Hymen's Joys your golden Days!
| The Idyllia, Epigrams, and Fragments, of Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus | |