The Hymns of Callimachus, Translated from the Greek into English Verse, With Explanatory Notes To which are added, Select Epigrams, and the Coma Berenices of the same Author, Six Hymns of Orpheus, and The Encomium of Ptolemy by Theocritus. By William Dodd |
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| 1. | THE First Hymn of Callimachus.
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 | The Hymns of Callimachus, Translated from the Greek into English Verse, With Explanatory Notes |  |
1
THE First Hymn of Callimachus.
To Jupiter.
While we to Jove the pure libations pay,
Than Jove what apter claims the hallow'd lay?
The God, whose power dispers'd, whose arm subdued
The daring Titans, earth's rebellious brood:
Who rules the sky, unbounded and alone,
For ever great, for ever fix'd his throne?
Than Jove what apter claims the hallow'd lay?
The God, whose power dispers'd, whose arm subdued
The daring Titans, earth's rebellious brood:
2
For ever great, for ever fix'd his throne?
In trembling doubt my mind delays the song,
Thy birth disputed and the contest long:
How shall I sing? Dictæan dost thou hear,
Or, doth Lycæan more delight thine ear?
Zealous of fame and of his country's worth,
On Ida's mount the Cretan boasts thy birth:
The sons of Arcas with resentment glow,
And thy great birth-place in their country shew.
Who vaunts, dread sovereign, and who vaunts in vain,
Say—; but why ask?—the Cretans ever feign:
Their impious actions all their claims disprove:
Presumptuous, they have built the tomb of Jove;
Immortal Jove, who bears no dying frame,
A God, thro' all eternity the same!
Thy birth disputed and the contest long:
How shall I sing? Dictæan dost thou hear,
Or, doth Lycæan more delight thine ear?
3
On Ida's mount the Cretan boasts thy birth:
The sons of Arcas with resentment glow,
And thy great birth-place in their country shew.
Who vaunts, dread sovereign, and who vaunts in vain,
Say—; but why ask?—the Cretans ever feign:
4
Presumptuous, they have built the tomb of Jove;
Immortal Jove, who bears no dying frame,
A God, thro' all eternity the same!
Where the brown forests on Parrhasia nod
Thick, dark, and awful, Rhea bore the God:
All holy hence that blest retreat was made
Rever'd the gloom, and unapproach'd the shade:
Down from fair woman to the reptile race
Each teeming female flies the sacred place:
Nor daring there the pangs of birth to prove;
Such pious horror guards the hallow'd grove.
Thick, dark, and awful, Rhea bore the God:
All holy hence that blest retreat was made
Rever'd the gloom, and unapproach'd the shade:
Down from fair woman to the reptile race
Each teeming female flies the sacred place:
5
Such pious horror guards the hallow'd grove.
The mighty burden of her womb resign'd,
The goddess sought some living stream to find:
All due ablutions to perform, and lave
Thy infant limbs in its auspicious wave:
Arcadia's realm cou'd then no streams supply:
Its fields were barren, and its meads were dry:
No friendly Ladon blest the thirsty swain,
No silver Erymanthus fed the plain:
Then woods and wilds above the hollows rose,
Where smooth, with liquid lapse, Iäon flows:
Obscure with dust the rattling chariots rode,
Where thunders, deep-descending, Melas' flood:
Where rapid Carion rolls his waves along,
Couch'd in their haunts secure the savage throng:
O'er the parch'd desert, where Metope's tide
Chearing the vales, and plenteous Crathis glide,
Thoughtless of gurgling streams confin'd below,
The hinds, burnt up with thirst, impatient drag'd and slow.
The goddess sought some living stream to find:
All due ablutions to perform, and lave
Thy infant limbs in its auspicious wave:
Arcadia's realm cou'd then no streams supply:
Its fields were barren, and its meads were dry:
No friendly Ladon blest the thirsty swain,
No silver Erymanthus fed the plain:
Then woods and wilds above the hollows rose,
Where smooth, with liquid lapse, Iäon flows:
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Where thunders, deep-descending, Melas' flood:
Where rapid Carion rolls his waves along,
Couch'd in their haunts secure the savage throng:
O'er the parch'd desert, where Metope's tide
Chearing the vales, and plenteous Crathis glide,
Thoughtless of gurgling streams confin'd below,
The hinds, burnt up with thirst, impatient drag'd and slow.
Distrest the Goddess heav'd a feeble sigh,
Then spoke (and speaking rear'd her arm on high:)
“Prove thou, O earth, with me a mother's woes,
“Light are thy pangs and less severe thy throes:”
She said; her scepter on the rock descends,
Wide at the blow, the rock disparted rends:
Impetuous to the passage crowds the tide,
And rushes roaring down the rocks rough side.
Then spoke (and speaking rear'd her arm on high:)
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“Light are thy pangs and less severe thy throes:”
She said; her scepter on the rock descends,
Wide at the blow, the rock disparted rends:
Impetuous to the passage crowds the tide,
And rushes roaring down the rocks rough side.
This happy stream thy infant limbs receiv'd,
By thee first honour'd, as with thee it liv'd:
There bath'd thy limbs, and wrapt in purple bands,
Thy mother gave thee to fair Neda's hands:
To Dicte's cave commanding to repair,
And tend with secret zeal her mighty care:
Neda, of all the nymphs that Ammon nurst,
In age, save Styx and Philyre, the first.
By thee first honour'd, as with thee it liv'd:
There bath'd thy limbs, and wrapt in purple bands,
Thy mother gave thee to fair Neda's hands:
To Dicte's cave commanding to repair,
And tend with secret zeal her mighty care:
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In age, save Styx and Philyre, the first.
Nor to the nymph was Rhea's favour shewn
By this great trust, and precious pledge alone:
No trivial honour, and no small reward,
Confirm'd her love, and witness'd her regard:
Her favourite's name, the favourite stream she gave,
Which rolls by Leprion's wall, its antient wave:
And to Callisto's race its bounty yields,
Gladdening at once both shepherds, flocks, and fields.
By this great trust, and precious pledge alone:
No trivial honour, and no small reward,
Confirm'd her love, and witness'd her regard:
Her favourite's name, the favourite stream she gave,
Which rolls by Leprion's wall, its antient wave:
And to Callisto's race its bounty yields,
Gladdening at once both shepherds, flocks, and fields.
9
To Cnossus brought, the Melian nymphs abode,
With joy the Melian nymphs embrac'd the God;
His wants Adraste sedulous supplies,
And in the golden cradle lulls his cries:
Milk from the duteous goat the God receives,
And pleas'd the labouring bee her tribute gives:
Hence Amalthea 'midst the stars was found:
Hence fame the bee, and Jove's protection crown'd.
With joy the Melian nymphs embrac'd the God;
His wants Adraste sedulous supplies,
And in the golden cradle lulls his cries:
Milk from the duteous goat the God receives,
And pleas'd the labouring bee her tribute gives:
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Hence fame the bee, and Jove's protection crown'd.
11
High-rais'd their brazen shields, around thee stand,
Great God, the Corybantes, solemn band!
Their clanging armour thund'ring they advance,
To the harsh sound responds the mystic dance:
Loud, rough and rude tumultuous clamours rise,
To mock old Saturn's ears, and quell thy cries.
Great God, the Corybantes, solemn band!
Their clanging armour thund'ring they advance,
To the harsh sound responds the mystic dance:
Loud, rough and rude tumultuous clamours rise,
To mock old Saturn's ears, and quell thy cries.
Swift was thy growth, and thus divinely train'd
Mature the dawn of manhood was attain'd:
Yet ev'n, dread ruler of the Gods, when young,
Thy mind was perfect and thy sense was strong:
'Twas hence thy brother's, though the first in birth,
Nobly avowing thy superior worth,
And scorning envy, own'd it right, when giv'n
To Jove the empire of themselves and heav'n.
Mature the dawn of manhood was attain'd:
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Thy mind was perfect and thy sense was strong:
'Twas hence thy brother's, though the first in birth,
Nobly avowing thy superior worth,
And scorning envy, own'd it right, when giv'n
To Jove the empire of themselves and heav'n.
Vain bards of old to fiction that incline,
Fabling relate, that heaven by lot was thine:
In equal things the urns dark chance we try;
But how bears hell proportion to the sky?
The difference who but madmen have not seen,
Wide as the distance either realm between!
Fabling relate, that heaven by lot was thine:
In equal things the urns dark chance we try;
But how bears hell proportion to the sky?
The difference who but madmen have not seen,
Wide as the distance either realm between!
13
Did I form fables, like those bards of old,
With shew of truth my stories should be told;
Yet would I scorn to vilify my song,
With fictions to amuse the vulgar throng.
With shew of truth my stories should be told;
Yet would I scorn to vilify my song,
With fictions to amuse the vulgar throng.
Let me avow, that not by chance was given,
But by thine own right hand the throne of heav'n:
Dread Power and Strength their mutual aid supply'd,
And hence were seated near their sovereign's side.
Then too, great king the eagle was assign'd,
To man the favorite augur of thy mind:
To me and mine oh! may he ever prove
The happy omen of thy care and love!
But by thine own right hand the throne of heav'n:
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And hence were seated near their sovereign's side.
Then too, great king the eagle was assign'd,
To man the favorite augur of thy mind:
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The happy omen of thy care and love!
Thyself supreme; as thou hast well assign'd,
The Gods subordinate command mankind:
The merchant, poet, and the man of war,
Each to his guardian power prefers his prayer:
While mighty kings (whose universal sway
The soldier, merchant and the bard obey)
Their grateful offerings to the altar bring
Of Jove, their sovereign, Jove of kings the king.
The sooty smiths to Vulcan's temple move,
And hunters glory in Diana's love:
Mars reigns despotic o'er the warrior throng,
And gentle Phoebus claims the sons of song:
But monarchs bend at thy eternal shrine,
By Jove ordain'd, defended, and divine.
They rule from thee: while from thy towers on high
Alike extends thy providential eye
O'er kings, their nation's scourge, or kings, their nation's joy.
To these of glory thou the means hast giv'n,
Such as besuits the delegates of heav'n:
Their splendid pomp thy hand alone bestows:
But not on all a like profusion flows,
A like profusion of thy gifts divine:
As plain we note, great Ptolemy, from thine;
Whose plenteous blessings from almighty Jove,
At once thy power, and his protection prove.
To all the morn within thy breast conceives
Mature perfection the glad evening gives:
Thy greatest purposes short days fulfil,
Thy smaller, instantaneous as the will.
Their councils blasted some for ever mourn,
Years follow years, and days on days return;
While still dispers'd and scatter'd with the wind
Each purpose fails, their guardian God unkind.
The Gods subordinate command mankind:
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Each to his guardian power prefers his prayer:
While mighty kings (whose universal sway
The soldier, merchant and the bard obey)
Their grateful offerings to the altar bring
Of Jove, their sovereign, Jove of kings the king.
The sooty smiths to Vulcan's temple move,
And hunters glory in Diana's love:
Mars reigns despotic o'er the warrior throng,
And gentle Phoebus claims the sons of song:
But monarchs bend at thy eternal shrine,
By Jove ordain'd, defended, and divine.
They rule from thee: while from thy towers on high
Alike extends thy providential eye
O'er kings, their nation's scourge, or kings, their nation's joy.
To these of glory thou the means hast giv'n,
Such as besuits the delegates of heav'n:
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But not on all a like profusion flows,
A like profusion of thy gifts divine:
As plain we note, great Ptolemy, from thine;
Whose plenteous blessings from almighty Jove,
At once thy power, and his protection prove.
To all the morn within thy breast conceives
Mature perfection the glad evening gives:
Thy greatest purposes short days fulfil,
Thy smaller, instantaneous as the will.
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Years follow years, and days on days return;
While still dispers'd and scatter'd with the wind
Each purpose fails, their guardian God unkind.
Hail Saturn's son, dread sovereign of the skies,
Supreme disposer of all earthly joys:
What man his numbers to thy gifts could raise,—
What man hath sung, or e'er shall sing thy praise?
The bard is yet, and still shall be unborn:
Who can a Jove with worthy strains adorn?
Hail, father—! tho' above all praises, hear;
Grant wealth and virtue to thy servant's prayer:
Wealth without virtue but enhances shame,
And virtue without wealth becomes a name:
Send wealth, send virtue then: for join'd they prove
The bliss of mortals, and the gift of Jove.
Supreme disposer of all earthly joys:
What man his numbers to thy gifts could raise,—
What man hath sung, or e'er shall sing thy praise?
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Who can a Jove with worthy strains adorn?
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Grant wealth and virtue to thy servant's prayer:
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And virtue without wealth becomes a name:
Send wealth, send virtue then: for join'd they prove
The bliss of mortals, and the gift of Jove.
End of the Hymn to Jupiter.
| The Hymns of Callimachus, Translated from the Greek into English Verse, With Explanatory Notes | |