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 |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
|
| 1. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| IV. | IDYLLIUM the FOURTH. MEGARA, the Wife of HERCULES, and ALCMENA his Mother. |
| V. |
| VIII. |
|
| II. |
 | The Idyllia, Epigrams, and Fragments, of Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus |  |
277
IDYLLIUM the FOURTH. MEGARA, the Wife of HERCULES, and ALCMENA his Mother.
MEGARA.‘Say, whence those Looks that tell so dire a Tale,
‘The Groan so wasting, and the Cheek so pale?
‘Is it thy tortur'd Offspring to survey?
‘To see a Fawn upon a Lion prey?
‘To see a worthless Wretch torment thy Son?
‘Ye Gods! what Evil hath Megara done?
‘Immortals! have I merited your Scorn?
‘Ah me, to adverse Fate untimely born!
‘Who, who so curs'd! E'er since the Hour he led
‘Me, a fond Virgin, to the nuptial Bed,
‘Dear have I ever priz'd him as these Eyes,
‘And, still adoring, from my Soul I prize!
‘But ah, my matchless Lord was doom'd to share
‘Such bitter Draughts, amid his every Care,
‘As from the Cup of Sorrow seem to flow,
‘Deeper than any Dregs of mortal Woe!
278
‘And with Apollo's Darts in Frenzy slew!
‘Fates—Furies rather the dire Darts supplied!—
‘Slain by their Sire before these Eyes they died!
‘Oh how they ask'd (and never Dream display'd
‘So dread a Scene) their helpless Mother's Aid!
‘Alas (I hear each dying Echo still)
‘These Hands had vainly cross'd the insuperable Ill.
‘But as a hapless Bird her Young bewails,
‘That, yet unfledg'd, a cruel Snake assails
‘'Mid the thick Copse; around her Offspring flies,
‘And twitters in shrill Notes her plaintive Cries;
‘Not venturing near—too weak to bring Relief—
‘Yet hovering in an Agony of Grief—
‘So (my poor Offspring fall'n in early Bloom)
‘I ran all frantic thro' the blood-stain'd Dome.
‘O Dian, Sovereign of the female World,
‘Had but thy Hand the Dart in Pity hurl'd;
‘Its Poison to this wasting Bosom sped,
‘And struck me on my slaughter'd Children dead—
279
‘And on one Pile the breathless Relics laid!
‘Then weeping had they seen our Bodies burn,
‘Clos'd the pale Ashes in one common Urn,
‘And kindly, to compleat the Rites of Death,
‘Buried, where first we drew our vital Breath.
‘Now where Aonia boasts her fertile Soil,
‘'Mid Theban Steeds they urge the rural Toil.
‘But I, at Tiryns, Juno's sacred Seat,
‘Feel many a Sorrow in my Bosom beat:
‘Each Day one melancholy Blank appears,
‘And brings no Respite—to eternal Tears!
‘Yet soon these Eyes shall hail my hapless Lord
‘To his own Roof (tho' transiently) restor'd!
‘For many a Labor must he still sustain,
‘Rove the rough Earth, and pass the stormy Main;
‘While in his Breast he bears, to Fear unknown,
‘A rigid Heart of Iron or of Stone!
‘But thou, like Water, art dissolv'd away—
‘Thy Sorrows flow by Night—nor cease by Day!
280
‘To gild with Comfort's Ray the darksome Hour!
‘They—they beyond the pine-rob'd Isthmus dwell!—
‘Nor, as a hapless Woman, can I tell
‘My Griefs; or to one soothing Friend impart
‘(Except my Sister Pyrrha) my full Heart!
‘She pines too for her Iphiclus—thy Son—
‘And sure dire Ills thro' all thy Lineage run,
‘Still tortur'd, whether first their Lives began
‘From Gods their deathless Sires, or mortal Man.’
She spoke—and Tears fast trickled from her Eyes,
And fill'd her lovely Breast surcharg'd with Sighs!
While Memory, in fresh Colors, to her View
The Image of her Sons and Parents drew.
And fill'd her lovely Breast surcharg'd with Sighs!
While Memory, in fresh Colors, to her View
The Image of her Sons and Parents drew.
Meantime, deep Groans Alcmena's Anguish speak,
And Drops hang trembling on her pallid Cheek;
When thus, slow-raising her dejected Head,
Her Daughter she addrest, and sagely said:
ALCMENAAnd Drops hang trembling on her pallid Cheek;
When thus, slow-raising her dejected Head,
Her Daughter she addrest, and sagely said:
‘O Daughter, hapless in thy Offspring slain,
‘Why thus revive these Images of Pain?
281
‘Still bid our Tears that oft have flow'd, o'erflow?
‘Ah! does not each successive Sun display
‘Its own mark'd Ills, “sufficient to the Day?”
‘Wretches alone our Griefs would number o'er—
‘Be cheer'd—the Gods have Blessings yet in Store.
‘But I excuse thy ever pining Care,
‘My Child—Of Pleasure I have had my Share.
‘And 'tis with Pity and Regret I rate
‘Thy Woes—the Partner of our heavy Fate!
‘But (hear, O Proserpine and Ceres, hear,
‘Ye whose avenging Wrath the Perjur'd fear)
‘I've lov'd thee—haply not to thee unknown—
‘As if from infant Years thou wert mine own!
‘I've lov'd thee, as the Offspring of my Womb,
‘As still mine only, in thy Virgin-Bloom!
‘Then deem not—deem not my Affection cold—
‘No—tho' a Niobe thine Eye behold
‘In the sad Mother who may well deplore
‘Her suffering Son! For ten long Months I bore—
282
‘Hover'd, in bitter Pangs, for Pluto's Coast.
‘Now 'mid new Toils his vagrant Footsteps roam,
‘Never, perchance, to bless, returning home,
‘These longing Eyes! Besides, a Vision late
‘Appear'd—(alas too ominous of Fate!)
‘Rising with many a Terror to my Sight,
‘As lock'd in Sleep I lay at Dead of Night.
‘Methought, my Hercules himself display'd
‘(All naked) in his Hand a pond'rous Spade;
‘And, at the Outskirts of a fruitful Soil,
‘Delv'd a deep Ditch, and urg'd the Laborer's Toil.
‘But when his finish'd Fence seem'd sunk around
‘The wide-girt Area of the Vineyard Ground;
‘And he, now ready for recruiting Rest,
‘Fix'd in the Glebe his Spade, and sought his Vest;
‘Quick-flashing from the Trench a fiery Stream
‘Burst out, and round him roll'd its vengeful Flame!
‘He swift from Vulcan's Fury skimm'd the Field,
‘Shook his broad Spade protective like a Shield;
283
‘And mark'd the rapid Volume, as it flew.
‘Then Iphiclus (for such my Dream portray'd)
‘Sudden seem'd rushing to the Hero's Aid;
‘But, ere he reach'd Alcides, slid away,
‘And on the Ground bereft of Motion lay!
‘Like an enfeebled Man that fall'n, thro' Years,
‘All motionless and fix'd to Earth appears;
‘Till some kind Stranger the wish'd Aid supplies,
‘Pities his silver Beard, and bids him rise!
‘To see my Sons thus helpless—thus forlorn—
‘I heav'd the incessant Sigh, and wept till Morn!
‘Then wing'd away before the rosy Beam
‘My Slumbers vanish'd with my frightful Dream.
‘Such then, my Child, the Vision I relate:
‘And ah! the just Interpretess of Fate,
‘May I presage its black'ning Omens true,
‘And see dire Ills Eurystheus' Steps pursue;
‘Turn'd from the Heroes of our House, to spread
‘Their tenfold Horrors on his guilty Head!’
| The Idyllia, Epigrams, and Fragments, of Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus | |