The Works of John Hookham Frere In Verse and Prose Now First Collected with a Prefatory Memoir by his Nephews W. E. and Sir Bartle Frere |
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 | The Works of John Hookham Frere In Verse and Prose |  |
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II. VOL II
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FRAGMENTS FROM THEOGNIS.
I.
Guided and aided by their holy will,Jove and Apollo, may they guard me still,
My course of youth in safety to fulfil;
Free from all evil, happy with my wealth,
In joyous easy years of peace and health.
II.
My heart exults the lively call obeying,When the shrill merry pipes are sweetly playing:
With these to chaunt aloud, or to recite,
To carol and carouse, is my delight:
Or in a steadfast tone, bolder and higher,
To temper with a touch the manly lyre.
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III.
To revel with the pipe, to chaunt and sing,This likewise is a most delightful thing:
Give me but ease and pleasure! What care I
For reputation or for property?
IV.
Learning and wealth, the wise and wealthy findInadequate to satisfy the mind;
A craving eagerness remains behind;
Something is left, for which we cannot rest;
And the last something always seems the best,
Something unknown, or something unpossest.
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V.
My thirst was sated at a secret source,I found it clear and limpid; but its course
Is alter'd now; polluted and impure!
I leave it; and where other springs allure,
Shall wander forth; or freely quaff my fill
From the loose current of the flowing rill.
VI.
To prove our gold or silver coarse or fine,Fire is the test; for man the proof is wine:
Wine can unravel secrets, and detect
And bring to shame the proudest intellect,
Hurried and overborne with its effect.
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VII.
My brain grows dizzy, whirl'd and overthrownWith wine; my senses are no more my own;
The ceiling and the walls are wheeling round.
But, let me try!—perhaps my limbs are sound:
Let me retire with my remaining sense,
For fear of idle language and offence.
VIII.
Never oblige your company to stay!
Never detain a man; nor send away!
Nor rouse from his repose, the weary guest,
That sinks upon the couch with wine oppress'd!
These formal rules enforc'd against the will,
Are found offensive. Let the bearer fill
Just as we please—freely to drink away;
Such merry meetings come not every day.
For me—since for to-night my stint is finish'd,
Before my common-sense is more diminish'd,
I shall retire—(the rule, I think, is right)
Not absolutely drunk nor sober quite.
For he that drinks beyond the proper point
Puts his own sense and judgment out of joint,
Talking outrageous, idle, empty stuff;
(The mere effect of wine more than enough)—
Telling a thousand things, that, on the morrow,
He recollects with sober shame and sorrow:
At other times, and in his proper nature,
An easy, quiet, amiable creature.
Never detain a man; nor send away!
Nor rouse from his repose, the weary guest,
That sinks upon the couch with wine oppress'd!
These formal rules enforc'd against the will,
Are found offensive. Let the bearer fill
Just as we please—freely to drink away;
Such merry meetings come not every day.
For me—since for to-night my stint is finish'd,
Before my common-sense is more diminish'd,
I shall retire—(the rule, I think, is right)
Not absolutely drunk nor sober quite.
For he that drinks beyond the proper point
Puts his own sense and judgment out of joint,
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(The mere effect of wine more than enough)—
Telling a thousand things, that, on the morrow,
He recollects with sober shame and sorrow:
At other times, and in his proper nature,
An easy, quiet, amiable creature.
Now you, Simonides, mind what I say!
You chatter in your cups and prate away,
Like a poor slave, drunk on a holiday.
You never can resolve to leave your liquor;
The faster it comes round, you drink the quicker—
There's some excuse—“The slave has fill'd the cup
“A challenge or a pledge”—you drink it up!
“'Tis a libation”—and you're so devout,
You can't refuse it! Manly brains and stout
Might stand the trial, drinking hard and fast,
And keep their sense and judgment to the last.
You chatter in your cups and prate away,
Like a poor slave, drunk on a holiday.
You never can resolve to leave your liquor;
The faster it comes round, you drink the quicker—
There's some excuse—“The slave has fill'd the cup
“A challenge or a pledge”—you drink it up!
“'Tis a libation”—and you're so devout,
You can't refuse it! Manly brains and stout
Might stand the trial, drinking hard and fast,
And keep their sense and judgment to the last.
Farewell! be merry! may your hours be spent
Without a quarrel or an argument—
In inoffensive, easy merriment;
Like a good concert keeping time and measure,
Such entertainments give the truest pleasure.
Without a quarrel or an argument—
In inoffensive, easy merriment;
Like a good concert keeping time and measure,
Such entertainments give the truest pleasure.
IX.
Kurnus, these lines of mine, let them remainConceal'd and secret—verse of such a strain
Betrays its author—all the world would know it!
“This is Theognis, the Megarian poet,
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Yet some there are, forsooth, I cannot please;
Nor ever could contrive, with all my skill,
To gain the common liking and good will
Of these my fellow citizens.—No wonder!
Not even He, the God that wields the thunder
(The Sovereign all-wise almighty Jove)
Can please them with his government above:
Some call for rainy weather, some for dry,
A discontented and discordant cry
Fills all the earth, and reaches to the sky,
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X.
With kine and horses, Kurnus! we proceed
By reasonable rules, and choose a breed
For profit and increase, at any price;
Of a sound stock, without defect or vice.
But, in the daily matches that we make,
The price is every thing: for money's sake,
Men marry: women are in marriage given;
The churl or ruffian, that in wealth has thriven,
May match his offspring with the proudest race:
Thus every thing is mix'd, noble and base!
By reasonable rules, and choose a breed
For profit and increase, at any price;
Of a sound stock, without defect or vice.
But, in the daily matches that we make,
The price is every thing: for money's sake,
Men marry: women are in marriage given;
The churl or ruffian, that in wealth has thriven,
May match his offspring with the proudest race:
Thus every thing is mix'd, noble and base!
If then in outward manner, form, and mind,
You find us a degraded, motley kind,
Wonder no more, my friend! the cause is plain,
And to lament the consequence is vain.
You find us a degraded, motley kind,
Wonder no more, my friend! the cause is plain,
And to lament the consequence is vain.
XI.
To rear a child is easy, but to teach
Morals and manners, is beyond our reach;
To make the foolish wise, the wicked good;
That science never yet was understood.
Morals and manners, is beyond our reach;
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That science never yet was understood.
The sons of Æsculapius, if their art
Could remedy a perverse and wicked heart,
Might earn enormous wages! But, in fact,
The mind is not compounded and compact
Of precept and example; human art
In human nature has no share or part:
Hatred of vice, the fear of shame and sin
Are things of native growth, not grafted in:
Else wise and worthy parents might correct
In children's hearts each error and defect;
Whereas, we see them disappointed still—
No scheme nor artifice of human skill
Can rectify the passions or the will.
Could remedy a perverse and wicked heart,
Might earn enormous wages! But, in fact,
The mind is not compounded and compact
Of precept and example; human art
In human nature has no share or part:
Hatred of vice, the fear of shame and sin
Are things of native growth, not grafted in:
Else wise and worthy parents might correct
In children's hearts each error and defect;
Whereas, we see them disappointed still—
No scheme nor artifice of human skill
Can rectify the passions or the will.
XII.
Our commonwealth preserves its former frame,Our common people are no more the same.
They, that in skins and hides were rudely dress'd,
Nor dreamt of law, nor sought to be redress'd
By rules of right, but in the days of old
Flock'd to the town, like cattle to the fold,
Are now the brave and wise. And we, the rest,
(Their betters nominally, once the best)
Degenerate, debased, timid and mean!
Who can endure to witness such a scene?
Their easy courtesies, the ready smile,
Prompt to deride, to flatter and beguile!
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Of truth or honour! Out of such a throng
(For any difficulties, any need,
For any bold design or manly deed)
Never imagine you can choose a just
Or steady friend, or faithful in his trust.
But change your habits! let them go their way!
Be condescending, affable, and gay!
Adopt with every man the style and tone
Most courteous and congenial with his own!
But in your secret counsels keep aloof
From feeble paltry souls that at the proof
Of danger or distress are sure to fail;
For whose salvation, nothing can avail!
XIII.
Our state is pregnant; shortly to produce
A rude avenger of prolong'd abuse
The commons hitherto seem sober-minded,
But their superiors are corrupt and blinded.
A rude avenger of prolong'd abuse
The commons hitherto seem sober-minded,
But their superiors are corrupt and blinded.
The rule of noble spirits, brave and high,
Never endanger'd peace and harmony.
The supercilious, arrogant pretence
Of feeble minds, weakness and insolence,
Justice and truth and law wrested aside
By crafty shifts of avarice and pride;
These are our ruin, Kurnus!—never dream,
(Tranquil and undisturb'd as it may seem)
Of future peace or safety to the state;
Bloodshed and strife will follow soon or late.
Never imagine that a ruin'd land
Will trust her destiny to your command
To be remodell'd by a single hand.
Never endanger'd peace and harmony.
The supercilious, arrogant pretence
Of feeble minds, weakness and insolence,
Justice and truth and law wrested aside
By crafty shifts of avarice and pride;
These are our ruin, Kurnus!—never dream,
(Tranquil and undisturb'd as it may seem)
Of future peace or safety to the state;
Bloodshed and strife will follow soon or late.
Never imagine that a ruin'd land
Will trust her destiny to your command
To be remodell'd by a single hand.
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XIV.
My friend, I fear it! pride, which overthrewThe mighty Centaurs and their hardy crew—
Our pride will ruin us, your friends, and you.
XV.
Pride and oppressive rule destroy'd the stateOf the Magnesians—such was Smyrna's fate—
Smyrna the rich, and Colophon the great!
And ours, my friend, will follow soon or late.
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XVI.
Kurnus, our state is pregnant to produceThe avenger of oppression and abuse!
The birth (believe me) will not tarry long;
For the same course of outrage and of wrong
Which ruin'd the Magnesian state of old,—
That very same, we witness and behold.
XVII.
I walk by rule and measure, and inclineTo neither side, but take an even line;
Fix'd in a single purpose and design.
With learning's happy gifts to celebrate,
To civilize and dignify the State;
Not leaguing with the discontented crew,
Nor with the proud and arbitrary few.
XVIII.
That happy man, my friend, was never seenNor born into the world, whom saucy spleen
Forbore to scandalize! I know not, I!
What they would have? but whether I comply
To join with others in pursuit of ill,
Or keep myself aloof, they blame me still.
Such is my fortune; never understood,
But censur'd by the wicked or the good!
My consolation still remains the same;
Fools cannot imitate the man they blame.
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XIX.
That happy man, my friend! that has through lifePass'd unobnoxious to reproach or strife [OMITTED]
[OMITTED] Never existed yet; nor ever will!
A task there is which Jove could not fulfil,—
Infinite power and wisdom, both combin'd,
Would not avail to satisfy mankind.
XX.
The generous and the brave, in common fame,From time to time encounter praise or blame:
The vulgar pass unheeded; none escape
Scandal or insult in some form or shape.
Most fortunate are those, alive or dead,
Of whom the least is thought—the least is said.
XXI.
The worldly-minded and the worldly wise,In ignorance and arrogance, despise
All talents and attainments but their own;
Wisdom is their's, they think—and their's alone.
But no! the lessons of deceit and wrong,
In point of fact, are neither hard nor long:
And many know them; but a better will,
Prohibits some from practising their skill;—
Some have a taste for good, and some for ill.
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XXII.
Many true counsels in this breast of mineLie buried: many a just and fair design,
But inefficient, indolent and weak;
I know my nature, and forbear to speak.
XXIII.
Court not a tyrant's favour, nor combineTo further his iniquitous design!
But, if your faith is pledg'd, though late and loth,
If covenants have pass'd between you both,
Never assassinate him! keep your oath!
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To trample on the people, and devour,
Depose or overturn him;—any how!
Your oath permits it, and the gods allow.
XXIV.
I shall not join the funeral train, to goAn idle follower in the pomp of woe:
For why—no duty binds me? nor would he,
Their arbitrary chief, have mourn'd for me.
XXV.
I envy not these sumptuous obsequies,The stately car, the purple canopies;
Much better pleas'd am I, remaining here,
With cheaper equipage and better cheer.
A couch of thorns, or an embroider'd bed,
Are matters of indifference to the dead.
XXVI.
Easy discourse with steady sense combin'd,Are rare endowments in a single mind.
XXVII.
No costly sacrifice nor offerings givenCan change the purpose of the powers of heaven:
Whatever fate ordains, danger or hurt
Or death predestin'd, nothing can avert.
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XXVIII.
The sovereign single person—what cares heFor love or hate, for friend or enemy?
His single purpose is—utility.
344
XXIX.
If popular distrust and hate prevail,If saucy mutineers insult and rail,
Fret not your eager spirit! take a line
Just, sober, and discreet,—the same as mine!
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XXX.
My friend, the feeling you can not correctWill work at last a ruinous effect
To disappoint your hopes. You cannot learn
To bear unpleasant things with unconcern;
Nor work without repugnance or disgust
In tasks that ought to be perform'd, and must.
XXXI.
I care not for a friend that at my boardTalks pleasantly: the friend that will afford
Faithful assistance with his purse and sword
In need or danger, let that friend be mine!
Fit for a bold and resolute design;
Not for a conversation over wine!
XXXII.
Let no persuasive art tempt you to place
Your confidence in crafty minds and base!
How can it answer? Will their help avail
When danger presses, and your foes assail?
The blessing which the gods in bounty send,
Will they consent to share it with a friend?
Your confidence in crafty minds and base!
How can it answer? Will their help avail
When danger presses, and your foes assail?
The blessing which the gods in bounty send,
Will they consent to share it with a friend?
No! To bestrew the waves with scatter'd grain,
To cultivate the surface of the main,
Is not a task more absolutely vain,
Than cultivating such allies as these,
Fickle and unproductive as the seas!
To cultivate the surface of the main,
Is not a task more absolutely vain,
Than cultivating such allies as these,
Fickle and unproductive as the seas!
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Such are all baser minds; never at rest,
With new demands importunately press'd—
A new pretension or a new request;
Till, foil'd with a refusal of the last,
They disavow their obligations past.
With new demands importunately press'd—
A new pretension or a new request;
Till, foil'd with a refusal of the last,
They disavow their obligations past.
But brave and gallant hearts are cheaply gain'd—
Faithful adherents, easily retain'd;
Men that will never disavow the debt
Of gratitude, or cancel or forget.
Faithful adherents, easily retain'd;
Men that will never disavow the debt
Of gratitude, or cancel or forget.
XXXIII.
The civil person (he that to your faceProfessing friendship: in another place
Talks in an alter'd tone) is not the man
For a determin'd, hearty partisan.
Give me the comrade eager to defend,
And, in his absence, vindicate a friend!
Whose strong attachment will abide the brunt
Of bitter altercation, and confront
Calumnious outrage with a fierce reproof,
Like brethren bred beneath a father's roof:
Friends such as these may serve for your behoof.
None others.—Mark my words! and let them be
Fix'd as a token in your memory
For aftertimes,—to make you think of me!
XXXIV.
Never engage with a poltroon or craven,—
Avoid him, Kurnus, as a treach'rous haven!
These friends and hearty comrades, as you think,
(Ready to join you, when you feast and drink,)
These easy friends from difficulty shrink.
Avoid him, Kurnus, as a treach'rous haven!
These friends and hearty comrades, as you think,
(Ready to join you, when you feast and drink,)
These easy friends from difficulty shrink.
For a shrewd intellect, the best employ
Is to detect a soul of base alloy;
No task is harder nor imports so much;
Silver or gold, you prove it by the touch;
You separate the pure, discard the dross,
And disregard the labour and the loss:
But a friend's heart, base and adulterate,—
A friendly surface with a core of hate!
Of all the frauds with which the Fates have curst
Our simple easy nature—is the worst:
Beyond the rest ruinous in effect;
And of all others hardest to detect:
For men's and women's hearts you cannot try
Beforehand, like the cattle that you buy.
Nor human wit nor reason, when you treat
For such a purpose, can escape deceit:
Fancy betrays us, and assists the cheat.
Is to detect a soul of base alloy;
No task is harder nor imports so much;
Silver or gold, you prove it by the touch;
You separate the pure, discard the dross,
And disregard the labour and the loss:
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A friendly surface with a core of hate!
Of all the frauds with which the Fates have curst
Our simple easy nature—is the worst:
Beyond the rest ruinous in effect;
And of all others hardest to detect:
For men's and women's hearts you cannot try
Beforehand, like the cattle that you buy.
Nor human wit nor reason, when you treat
For such a purpose, can escape deceit:
Fancy betrays us, and assists the cheat.
XXXV.
Waste not your efforts, struggle not, my friend,Idle and old abuses to defend!
Take heed! the very measures that you press,
May bring repentance with their own success.
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XXXVI.
Kurnus, proceed like me! Walk not awry!Nor trample on the bounds of property!
XXXVII.
“Bad company breeds mischief.” Kurnus, youCan prove that ancient proverb to be true
In your own instance; you yourself were driven
To an unrighteous act, offending Heaven!
XXXVIII.
At entertainments show yourself discreet:
Remember that, amongst the guests you meet,
The absent have their friends, and may be told
Of rash or idle language which you hold.
Remember that, amongst the guests you meet,
The absent have their friends, and may be told
Of rash or idle language which you hold.
Learn to endure a jest—you may display
Your courage elsewhere, in a better way.
Your courage elsewhere, in a better way.
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XXXIX.
Rash, angry words, and spoken out of season,When passion has usurp'd the throne of reason,
Have ruin'd many. Passion is unjust,
And for an idle, transitory gust
Of gratified revenge, dooms us to pay
With long repentance at a later day.
XL.
The gods send Insolence, to lead astray
The man whom Fortune and the Fates betray,
Predestined to precipitate decay.
Wealth nurses Insolence, and wealth, we find,
When coupled with a poor and paltry mind,
Is evermore with Insolence combined.
The man whom Fortune and the Fates betray,
Predestined to precipitate decay.
Wealth nurses Insolence, and wealth, we find,
When coupled with a poor and paltry mind,
Is evermore with Insolence combined.
Never in anger with the meaner sort
Be moved to a contemptuous, harsh retort,
Deriding their distresses; nor despise,
In hasty speech, their wants and miseries.
Be moved to a contemptuous, harsh retort,
Deriding their distresses; nor despise,
In hasty speech, their wants and miseries.
Jove holds the balance, and the gods dispense
For all mankind, riches and indigence.
For all mankind, riches and indigence.
XLI.
Learn, Kurnus, learn, to bear an easy mind;
Accommodate your humour to mankind
And human nature—take it as you find!
A mixture of ingredients, good or bad,
Such are we all, the best that can be had.
The best are found defective, and the rest,
For common use, are equal to the best.
Suppose it had been otherwise decreed—
How could the business of the world proceed?
Accommodate your humour to mankind
And human nature—take it as you find!
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Such are we all, the best that can be had.
The best are found defective, and the rest,
For common use, are equal to the best.
Suppose it had been otherwise decreed—
How could the business of the world proceed?
Fairly examined, truly understood,
No man is wholly bad, nor wholly good,
Nor uniformly wise. In every case,
Habit and accident, and time, and place
Affect us:—'tis the nature of the race!
No man is wholly bad, nor wholly good,
Nor uniformly wise. In every case,
Habit and accident, and time, and place
Affect us:—'tis the nature of the race!
XLII.
Join with the world! adopt, with every man,His party views, his temper, and his plan!
Strive to avoid offence! study to please!
Like the sagacious inmate of the seas,
That an accommodating colour brings,
Conforming to the rock to which he clings,
With every change of place changing his hue—
The model for a statesman, such as you!
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XLIII.
Let not a base calumnious pretence,Exaggerating a minute offence,
Move you to wrong a friend! If every time
Faults in a friend were treated as a crime,
Here upon earth, no friendship could have place.
But we, the creatures of a faulty race,
Amongst ourselves offend and are forgiven:—
Vengeance is the prerogative of Heaven.
XLIV.
A rival or antagonist is hardTo be deceived, they stand upon their guard:
But an old friend, Kurnus, is unprepared!
XLV.
That smith, dear Kurnus, shows but little wit,
Who forges fetters his own feet to fit.
Who forges fetters his own feet to fit.
Excuse me, Kurnus; I cannot comply
Thus to be yoked in harness;—never try
To bind me strictly, with too close a tie.
Thus to be yoked in harness;—never try
To bind me strictly, with too close a tie.
XLVI.
No more with empty phrase and speeches fineSeek to delude me—let your heart be mine!
Your friendship or your enmity declare
In a decided form, open and fair,
An enemy disguised, a friend in show!—
I like him better, Kurnus, as a foe!
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XLVII.
Yes!—Drench me with invective! not a stain
From all that angry deluge will remain!
Fair harmless water, dripping from my skin,
Will mark no foulness or defect within.
From all that angry deluge will remain!
Fair harmless water, dripping from my skin,
Will mark no foulness or defect within.
As the pure standard gold of ruddy hue,
Prov'd by the touchstone, unalloy'd and true,
Unstain'd by rust, untarnish'd to the sight;
Such, will you find me—solid, pure and bright.
Prov'd by the touchstone, unalloy'd and true,
Unstain'd by rust, untarnish'd to the sight;
Such, will you find me—solid, pure and bright.
XLVIII.
Change for the worse is sooner understood,And sooner practis'd, than from bad to good.
Do not advise and school me! good, my friend!
I'm past the time to learn. I cannot mend.
XLIX.
You blame me for an error not my own:Dear friend! the fault was yours, and yours alone.
353
L.
My mind is in a strange distracted state;
Love you, I cannot!—and I cannot hate!
'Tis hard to change habitual good-will,
Hard to renounce our better thoughts for ill,—
To love without return is harder still.
But mark my resolution and protest!
Those services, for which you once profess'd
A sense of obligation due to me,
On my part were gratuitous and free;
No task had I, no duty to fulfil,
No motive, but a kind and friendly will.
Love you, I cannot!—and I cannot hate!
'Tis hard to change habitual good-will,
Hard to renounce our better thoughts for ill,—
To love without return is harder still.
But mark my resolution and protest!
Those services, for which you once profess'd
A sense of obligation due to me,
On my part were gratuitous and free;
No task had I, no duty to fulfil,
No motive, but a kind and friendly will.
Now, like a liberated bird, I fly,
That having snapt the noose, ranges on high,
Proud of his flight, and viewing in disdain
The broken fetter and the baffled swain,
And his old haunt, the lowly marshy plain!
That having snapt the noose, ranges on high,
Proud of his flight, and viewing in disdain
The broken fetter and the baffled swain,
And his old haunt, the lowly marshy plain!
For you! the secret interested end
Of him, your new pretended party friend,
Whose instigation moved you to forego
Your former friendship, time will shortly shew;
Time will unravel all the close design,
And mark his merits, as compar'd with mine.
Of him, your new pretended party friend,
Whose instigation moved you to forego
Your former friendship, time will shortly shew;
Time will unravel all the close design,
And mark his merits, as compar'd with mine.
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LI.
You soar aloft, and over land and wave
Are borne triumphant on the wings I gave,
The swift and mighty wings, music and verse;
Your name in easy numbers smooth and terse,
Is wafted o'er the world; and heard among
At banquetings and feasts, chaunted and sung,
Heard and admir'd: the modulated air
Of flutes and voices of the young and fair
Recite it, and to future times shall tell;
When clos'd within the dark sepulchral cell
Your form shall moulder, and your empty ghost
Wander along the dreary Stygian coast,
Yet shall your memory flourish, fresh and young,
Recorded and reviv'd on every tongue,
In continents and islands, every place
That owns the language of the Grecian race!
Are borne triumphant on the wings I gave,
The swift and mighty wings, music and verse;
Your name in easy numbers smooth and terse,
Is wafted o'er the world; and heard among
At banquetings and feasts, chaunted and sung,
Heard and admir'd: the modulated air
Of flutes and voices of the young and fair
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When clos'd within the dark sepulchral cell
Your form shall moulder, and your empty ghost
Wander along the dreary Stygian coast,
Yet shall your memory flourish, fresh and young,
Recorded and reviv'd on every tongue,
In continents and islands, every place
That owns the language of the Grecian race!
No purchas'd prowess of a racing steed,
But the triumphant muse, with airy speed,
Shall bear it wide and far, o'er land and main,
A glorious and unperishable strain;
A mighty prize, gratuitously won,
Fix'd as the earth, immortal as the sun!
But the triumphant muse, with airy speed,
Shall bear it wide and far, o'er land and main,
A glorious and unperishable strain;
A mighty prize, gratuitously won,
Fix'd as the earth, immortal as the sun!
But for all this—no kindness in return!
No token of attention or concern!
Ȝoffled and scorn'd, you treat me like a child,
From day to day, with empty words beguil'd.
Remember! common justice, common sense
Are the best blessings which the Gods dispense:
And each man has his object; all aspire
To something which they covet and desire.
No token of attention or concern!
Ȝoffled and scorn'd, you treat me like a child,
From day to day, with empty words beguil'd.
Remember! common justice, common sense
Are the best blessings which the Gods dispense:
And each man has his object; all aspire
To something which they covet and desire.
Like a fair courser, conqueror in the race,
Bound to a charioteer sordid and base,
I feel it with disdain; and many a day
Have long'd to break the curb and burst away.
Bound to a charioteer sordid and base,
I feel it with disdain; and many a day
Have long'd to break the curb and burst away.
358
LII.
Bad faith hath ruined me; distrust aloneHas sav'd a remnant; all the rest is gone
To ruin and the dogs! The powers divine,
I murmur not against them, nor repine:
Mere human violence, rapine and stealth
Have brought me down to poverty from wealth.
LIII.
Learn patience, O my soul! though rack'd and tornWith deep distress—bear it!—it must be borne!
Your unavailing hopes and vain regret
Forget them, or endeavour to forget:
Those womanish repinings unrepress'd,
Which gratify your foes, serve to molest
Your sympathising friends. Learn to endure!
And bear calamities you cannot cure;
Nor hope to change the laws of destiny
By mortal efforts! Vainly would you fly
To the remotest margin of the sky,
359
Would you descend beneath, and dive amain,
Down to the dreary subterraneous reign.
LIV.
Entire and perfect happiness is neverVouchsaf'd to man; but nobler minds endeavour
To keep their inward sorrows unreveal'd.
With meaner spirits nothing is conceal'd:
Weak, and unable to conform to fortune,
With rude rejoicing or complaint importune,
They vent their exultation or distress.
Whate'er betides us—grief or happiness—
The brave and wise will bear with steady mind,
Th' allotment, unforeseen and undefin'd,
Of good or evil, which the gods bestow,
Promiscuously dealt to man below.
LV.
O mighty Jove! I wish the powers of heavenWould change their method!—that a rule were given
Henceforward, for the wicked and profane
To check their high presumption, and restrain
Their insolences and their cruelties:
Who mock your ordinances, and despise
Justice and right;—henceforth should every man,
In his own instance, justify the plan
Of Providence: and suffer for his crime
During his life: or at the very time,
With punishment inflicted on the spot;
For now, so long retarded or forgot,
The retribution ultimately falls
Wide of the mark—the vilest criminals
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Affects their innocent posterity,
(As oftentimes it happens) worthy men,
Blameless and inoffensive:—here again
The case is hard! where a good citizen,
A person of an honourable mind,
Religiously devout, faithful and kind,
Is doom'd to pay the lamentable score
Of guilt accumulated long before—
Some wicked ancestor's unholy deed.
I wish that it were otherwise decreed!
For now we witness wealth and power enjoy'd
By wicked doers; and the good destroy'd
Quite undeservedly, doom'd to atone
In other times, for actions not their own.
LVI.
Lawful and honest gain, the gift of heaven,
Is lasting, and abides where it is given:
But where a man, by perjury or by wrong,
Rises in riches, though secure and strong
In common estimation (though he deem
Himself a happy man, and so may seem)
Yet the just sentence on his wicked gains
Already stands recorded, and remains
For execution. Hence, we judge amiss;
And the true cause of our mistake is this:
Is lasting, and abides where it is given:
But where a man, by perjury or by wrong,
Rises in riches, though secure and strong
In common estimation (though he deem
Himself a happy man, and so may seem)
Yet the just sentence on his wicked gains
Already stands recorded, and remains
For execution. Hence, we judge amiss;
And the true cause of our mistake is this:
The punishment ordain'd by heaven's decree
Attaches to the sin, but, as we see
In many cases, leaves the sinner free.
Death follows, and is faster in his rate:
While vengeance travels slowly, speedy fate
Arrests the offender at a shorter date.
Attaches to the sin, but, as we see
In many cases, leaves the sinner free.
Death follows, and is faster in his rate:
While vengeance travels slowly, speedy fate
Arrests the offender at a shorter date.
361
LVII.
Blessed, almighty Jove! with deep amaze
I view the world; and marvel at thy ways!
All our devices, every subtle plan,
Each secret act, and all the thoughts of man,
Your boundless intellect can comprehend!
On your award our destinies depend.
I view the world; and marvel at thy ways!
All our devices, every subtle plan,
Each secret act, and all the thoughts of man,
Your boundless intellect can comprehend!
On your award our destinies depend.
How can you reconcile it to your sense
Of right and wrong, thus loosely to dispense
Your bounties on the wicked and the good?
How can your laws be known or understood?
When we behold a man faithful and just,
Humbly devout, true to his word and trust,
Dejected and oppress'd; whilst the profane,
And wicked, and unjust, in glory reign,
Proudly triumphant, flush'd with power and gain;
What inference can human reason draw?
How can we guess the secret of thy law,
Or choose the path approv'd by power divine?
We take, alas, perforce the crooked line,
And act unwillingly the baser part,
Though loving truth and justice at our heart;
For very need reluctantly compell'd
To falsify the principles we held;
With party factions basely to comply;
To flatter, and dissemble, and to lie!
Of right and wrong, thus loosely to dispense
Your bounties on the wicked and the good?
How can your laws be known or understood?
When we behold a man faithful and just,
Humbly devout, true to his word and trust,
Dejected and oppress'd; whilst the profane,
And wicked, and unjust, in glory reign,
Proudly triumphant, flush'd with power and gain;
What inference can human reason draw?
How can we guess the secret of thy law,
Or choose the path approv'd by power divine?
We take, alas, perforce the crooked line,
And act unwillingly the baser part,
Though loving truth and justice at our heart;
For very need reluctantly compell'd
To falsify the principles we held;
With party factions basely to comply;
To flatter, and dissemble, and to lie!
Yet He, the truly brave, tried by the test
Of sharp misfortune, is approv'd the best;
While the soul-searching power of indigence
Confounds the weak, and banishes pretence.
Of sharp misfortune, is approv'd the best;
While the soul-searching power of indigence
Confounds the weak, and banishes pretence.
Fixt in an honourable purpose still,
The brave preserve the same unconquer'd will,
Indifferent to fortune, good or ill.
The brave preserve the same unconquer'd will,
Indifferent to fortune, good or ill.
362
LVIII.
Kurnus, believe it! Fortune, good or ill,No mortal effort, intellect or skill
Determine it; but heaven's superior will.
We struggle onward, ignorant and blind,
For a result unknown and undesign'd;
Avoiding seeming ills, misunderstood,
Embracing evil as a seeming good;
In our own plans unable to detect
Their final, unavoidable effect:
Tormented with unsatisfied desire,
The fortunate to further aims aspire
Beyond the bounds of mortal happiness;
Restless and wretched in their own success!
We strove like children, and the almighty plan
Controls the froward children of weak man!
LIX.
In a frail bark across the seas you come,
Poor Clearistus, to my poorer home!
Yet shall your needy vessel be supplied
With what the Gods in clemency provide:
And if a friend be with you, bring him here!
With a fair welcome to my simple cheer.
I am not yet a niggard, nor by stealth
Dissemble the poor remnant of my wealth:
Still shall you find a hospitable board,
And share in common what my means afford.
Poor Clearistus, to my poorer home!
Yet shall your needy vessel be supplied
With what the Gods in clemency provide:
363
With a fair welcome to my simple cheer.
I am not yet a niggard, nor by stealth
Dissemble the poor remnant of my wealth:
Still shall you find a hospitable board,
And share in common what my means afford.
Then, should enquirers ask my present state,
You may reply,—my ruin has been great:
Yet, with my means reduc'd, a ruin'd man,
I live contented on a humbler plan:
Unable now to welcome every guest—
But greeting glad and freely, though distress'd,
Hereditary friends—of all the best.
You may reply,—my ruin has been great:
Yet, with my means reduc'd, a ruin'd man,
I live contented on a humbler plan:
Unable now to welcome every guest—
But greeting glad and freely, though distress'd,
Hereditary friends—of all the best.
LX.
The yearly summons of the creaking crane,That warns the ploughman to his task again,
Strikes to my heart a melancholy strain—
When all is lost, and my paternal lands
Are till'd for other lords, with other hands,
Since that disastrous wretched voyage brought
Riches and lands and every thing to nought.
LXI.
How could I bear it? In the public placeTo chaunt and revel, when, before my face,
Seen in the distance, I discern the train
Of harvest-triumph, and the loaded wain
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Returning from the hereditary ground,
No more my own! My faithful Scythian slave!
Break off this strain of idle mirth, and shave
Your flowing locks, and breathe another tone
Of sorrow for my fair possessions gone!
365
LXII.
Elate with wine, my losses I despise,And rude attacks of railing enemies.
But youth departing, and remember'd years
Of early mirth and joy, move me to tears;
While, in the dreary future, I behold
The dark approach of age, cheerless and cold.
367
LXIII.
Simonides! if with my learning's store
I still retained my riches as before,
I should not shrink from joining as a guest
In converse with the wisest and the best.
I still retained my riches as before,
I should not shrink from joining as a guest
In converse with the wisest and the best.
But now, with idle shame opprest and weak,
I sit dejected, and forbear to speak;
Feeble, forgetful, melancholy, slow,
My former pride of learning I forego,
My former knowledge I no longer know.
I sit dejected, and forbear to speak;
Feeble, forgetful, melancholy, slow,
My former pride of learning I forego,
My former knowledge I no longer know.
Such is our state! in a tempestuous sea,
With all the crew raging in mutiny!
No duty follow'd, none to reef a sail,
To work the vessel, or to pump or bale;
All is abandon'd, and, without a check,
The mighty sea comes sweeping o'er the deck;
Our steersman, hitherto so bold and steady,
Active and able, is deposed already:
No discipline, no sense of order felt,
The daily messes are unduly dealt;
The goods are plunder'd; those that ought to keep
Strict watch are idly skulking or asleep;
All that is left of order or command
Committed wholly to the basest hand.
In such a case, my friend, I needs must think
It were no marvel though the vessel sink.
With all the crew raging in mutiny!
No duty follow'd, none to reef a sail,
To work the vessel, or to pump or bale;
All is abandon'd, and, without a check,
The mighty sea comes sweeping o'er the deck;
Our steersman, hitherto so bold and steady,
Active and able, is deposed already:
No discipline, no sense of order felt,
The daily messes are unduly dealt;
The goods are plunder'd; those that ought to keep
Strict watch are idly skulking or asleep;
All that is left of order or command
Committed wholly to the basest hand.
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It were no marvel though the vessel sink.
This riddle to my worthy friends I tell,
But a shrewd knave will understand it well.
But a shrewd knave will understand it well.
LXIV.
Schemes unadvisable and out of reasonAre best adjourn'd—wait for a proper season!
Time and a fair conjuncture govern all.
Hasty ambition hurries to a fall,
A fall predestin'd and ordain'd by heaven:
By a judicial blindness madly driven,
Mistaking and confounding good and evil,
Men lose their senses as they leave their level.
369
LXV.
Stir not a step! risk nothing! but believeThat vows and oaths are snares, meant to deceive!
Jove is no warrant for a promise given,—
Not Jove himself, nor all the gods in heaven.
Nothing is safe, no character secure,
No conduct, the most innocent and pure:
All are corrupt, the commons and the great,
Alike incapable to save the state.
The ruin of the noblest and the best
Serves for an idle ballad or a jest.
Shame is abolish'd, and in high command,
Rage, impudence, and rapine rule the land.
LXVI.
A trusty partizan, faithful and bold,Is worth his weight in silver or in gold
For times of trouble; but the race is rare,—
Steady, determin'd men, ready to share
Good or ill fortune! Such, if such there are,
Could you survey the world, and search it round,
And bring together all that could be found,
The largest company you could enrol,
A single vessel would embark the whole!
So few there are! the noble, manly minds,
Faithful and firm, the men that honour binds,
Impregnable to danger and to pain,
And low seduction in the shape of gain.
370
LXVII.
Lash your obedient rabble! lash and loadThe burden on their backs! spurn them and goad!
They'll bear it all; by practice and by birth
The most submissive humble slaves on earth!
LXVIII.
Friend! if your sense and judgment had been wholly,Or nearly equal to your pride and folly,
You might have seen yourself approv'd and priz'd
As much precisely as you're now despis'd.
LXIX.
Scarce can I venture plainly to declareOur present state, or what the dangers are.
Let the worst happen! I shall bear, I trust,
Whatever fate determines—bear we must!
Inextricable difficulties rise,
And death and danger are before our eyes.
LXX.
From many a friend you must withhold your plans!No man is safe with many partizans,
No secret! With a party sure, but small,
Of bold adherents, trusty men withal,
You may succeed; else ruin must ensue,
Inevitable, for your friends and you.
371
LXXI.
Kurnus! since here we meet friends and allies,
We must consult in common, to devise
A speedy remedy with brief debate,
To meet the new disorders of the state.
More practice is requir'd, and deeper skill,
To cure a patient than to make him ill.
The wise in easy times will gladly rest;
When things are at the worst a change is best.
We must consult in common, to devise
A speedy remedy with brief debate,
To meet the new disorders of the state.
More practice is requir'd, and deeper skill,
To cure a patient than to make him ill.
The wise in easy times will gladly rest;
When things are at the worst a change is best.
Kurnus! in power and honour, heretofore,
Your former fortunes you discreetly bore.
Fortune has alter'd! bear it calmly still,
Endeavouring, with a firm and steady will,
With other changes, our affairs to mend,
With a bold effort, and with heaven to friend.
Your former fortunes you discreetly bore.
Fortune has alter'd! bear it calmly still,
Endeavouring, with a firm and steady will,
With other changes, our affairs to mend,
With a bold effort, and with heaven to friend.
If, Kurnus, our support has been displaced,
Our main defence dismantled and defaced,
Must we, like cowards, of all hope forsaken,
Lament and howl, as if the town were taken?
Though now reduced, no more a numerous host,
Courage, and sense, and honour are our boast.
Our main defence dismantled and defaced,
Must we, like cowards, of all hope forsaken,
Lament and howl, as if the town were taken?
Though now reduced, no more a numerous host,
Courage, and sense, and honour are our boast.
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Danger and hope are over-ruling powers
Of equal influence, and both are ours!
Where counsel and deliberation fail,
Action and strenuous effort may prevail.
Of equal influence, and both are ours!
Where counsel and deliberation fail,
Action and strenuous effort may prevail.
My spirit they shall never bend nor check,
Though mountain-heaps were loaded on my neck:
Let feeble coward souls crouch with affright,
The brave are ever firm—firm and upright.
Though mountain-heaps were loaded on my neck:
Let feeble coward souls crouch with affright,
The brave are ever firm—firm and upright.
Then let the brazen fiery vault of heaven
Crush me with instant ruin, rent and riven!
(The fear and horror of a former age)
If, from the friends and comrades that engage
In common enterprize, I shrink or spare
Myself or any soul! If I forbear
Full vengeance and requital on my foes!
All our antagonists! all that oppose!
Crush me with instant ruin, rent and riven!
(The fear and horror of a former age)
If, from the friends and comrades that engage
In common enterprize, I shrink or spare
Myself or any soul! If I forbear
Full vengeance and requital on my foes!
All our antagonists! all that oppose!
LXXII.
A speechless messenger, the beacon's light,Announces danger from the mountain's height!
Bridle your horses and prepare to fly:
The final crisis of our fate is nigh!
A momentary pause, a narrow space
Detains them, but the foes approach apace!
We must abide what fortune has decreed,
And hope that heaven will help us at our need.
Make your resolve! at home your means are great;
Abroad you will retain a poor estate,
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Yet live secure, at least from utter want.
374
LXXIII.
Alas, for our disgrace! Cerinthus lost!The fair Lelantian plain! a plundering host
Invade it—all the brave banish'd or fled!
Within the town, lewd ruffians in their stead
Rule it at random.—Such is our disgrace!
May Jove confound the Cypselizing race!
378
LXXIV.
My heart exults, the lively call obeying,
When the shrill merry pipes are sweetly playing;
With these, to chaunt aloud or to recite,
To carol and carouse, is my delight:
Or in a stedfast tone, bolder and higher,
To temper with a touch, the manly lyre.
When the shrill merry pipes are sweetly playing;
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To carol and carouse, is my delight:
Or in a stedfast tone, bolder and higher,
To temper with a touch, the manly lyre.
The slavish visage never is erect;
But looks oblique and language indirect
Betray their origin—no lovely rose,
Or hyacinth, from the rude bramble grows;
Nor from a slavish and degraded breed,
Can gentle words or courteous acts proceed.
But looks oblique and language indirect
Betray their origin—no lovely rose,
Or hyacinth, from the rude bramble grows;
Nor from a slavish and degraded breed,
Can gentle words or courteous acts proceed.
From noble Æthon my descent I trace,
Thebes grants me refuge and a resting place;
Forbear then, Arguris, with empty mirth,
Yourself a slave, to scandalize my birth:
Woman! I tell thee, wandering and forlorn,
In exile and distress, much have I borne,
Sorrows and wrongs and evils manifold;
But, to be purchased as a slave and sold
Has never been my fate, nor ever will;
And I retain a town and country still,
Along the banks of the Lethæan river,
In a fair land, where I shall live for ever;
For a firm friend, a steady partizan,
A faithful and an honorable man,
Disdaining every sordid act and mean,
No slave am I, nor slavish have I been.
Thebes grants me refuge and a resting place;
Forbear then, Arguris, with empty mirth,
Yourself a slave, to scandalize my birth:
Woman! I tell thee, wandering and forlorn,
In exile and distress, much have I borne,
Sorrows and wrongs and evils manifold;
But, to be purchased as a slave and sold
Has never been my fate, nor ever will;
And I retain a town and country still,
Along the banks of the Lethæan river,
In a fair land, where I shall live for ever;
For a firm friend, a steady partizan,
A faithful and an honorable man,
Disdaining every sordid act and mean,
No slave am I, nor slavish have I been.
381
LXXV.
To seize my lost possessions, and bestow,Among my friends, the spoils of many a foe,—
Such is my trust and hope; meanwhile I rest
Content and cheerful, an admitted guest
Conversing with a wise and worthy mind
Profound in learning, and in taste refin'd:
Watching his words and thoughts, to bear away
Improvement and instruction day by day.
LXXVI.
Talk not of evils past! Ulysses boreSeverer hardships than my own, and more;
Doom'd to descend to Pluto's dreary reign,
Yet he return'd, and view'd his home again,
382
The factious haughty suitors, whom he slew:
Whilst all the while, with steady faith unfeign'd,
The prudent, chaste Penelope remain'd,
With her fair son, waiting a future hour,
For his arrival and return to power.
LXXVII.
Kurnus, of all good things in human life,Nothing can equal goodness in a wife.
In our own case, we prove the proverb true;—
You vouch for me, my friend, and I for you.
LXXVIII.
May Jove assist me to discharge the debt
Of kindness to my friends; and grant me yet
A further boon—revenge upon my foes!
With these accomplish'd, I could gladly close
My term of life—a fair requital made;
My friends rewarded, and my wrongs repaid.
Gratitude and revenge, before I die,
Might make me deem'd almost a Deity!
Of kindness to my friends; and grant me yet
A further boon—revenge upon my foes!
With these accomplish'd, I could gladly close
My term of life—a fair requital made;
My friends rewarded, and my wrongs repaid.
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Might make me deem'd almost a Deity!
Yet hear, O mighty Jove, and grant my prayer!
Relieve me from affliction and despair!
O take my life, or grant me some redress,
Some foretaste of returning happiness!
Such is my state—I cannot yet descry
A chance of vengeance on mine enemy,
The rude despoilers of my property.
Whilst I, like to a scar'd and hunted hound,
That scarce escaping, trembling and half drown'd,
Crosses a gulley swelled with wintry rain,
Have crept ashore in feebleness and pain.
Relieve me from affliction and despair!
O take my life, or grant me some redress,
Some foretaste of returning happiness!
Such is my state—I cannot yet descry
A chance of vengeance on mine enemy,
The rude despoilers of my property.
Whilst I, like to a scar'd and hunted hound,
That scarce escaping, trembling and half drown'd,
Crosses a gulley swelled with wintry rain,
Have crept ashore in feebleness and pain.
Yet my full wish—to drink their very blood—
Some power divine, that watches for my good,
May yet accomplish—soon may he fulfil
My righteous hope—my just and hearty will.
Some power divine, that watches for my good,
May yet accomplish—soon may he fulfil
My righteous hope—my just and hearty will.
LXXIX.
For human nature Hope remains alone
Of all the deities—the rest are flown.
Faith is departed, Truth and Honour dead,
And all the Graces, too, my friends, are fled.
The scanty specimens of living worth,
Dwindled to nothing and extinct on earth.
Yet whilst I live, and view the light of heaven,
(Since Hope remains, and never has been driven
From the distracted world), the single scope
Of my devotion is to worship Hope:
When hecatombs are slain and altars burn
With all the deities ador'd in turn,
Let Hope be present, and with Hope, my friend,
Let every sacrifice commence and end.
Of all the deities—the rest are flown.
Faith is departed, Truth and Honour dead,
And all the Graces, too, my friends, are fled.
The scanty specimens of living worth,
Dwindled to nothing and extinct on earth.
Yet whilst I live, and view the light of heaven,
(Since Hope remains, and never has been driven
From the distracted world), the single scope
Of my devotion is to worship Hope:
When hecatombs are slain and altars burn
With all the deities ador'd in turn,
Let Hope be present, and with Hope, my friend,
Let every sacrifice commence and end.
Yes! insolence, injustice, every crime,
Rapine and wrong may prosper for a time;
Yet shall they travel on to swift decay
That tread the crooked path and hollow way.
Rapine and wrong may prosper for a time;
Yet shall they travel on to swift decay
That tread the crooked path and hollow way.
384
LXXX.
I search among my friends—none can I find,No sterling unadulterated mind;
None that abides the crucible like mine
Rising above the standard—superfine!
LXXXI.
An exile has no friends! no partizanIs firm or faithful to the banish'd man;
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Harder to bear and worse than banishment!
LXXXII.
The last and worst of ills, save death alone,The worst of human miseries is my own!
Those friends of mine have cast me off—and I
Must seek perforce a last resource, to try
To treat and tamper with the enemy.
LXXXIII.
Happy the man, with worldly wealth and ease,Who, dying in good time, departs in peace:
Not yet reduc'd to wander as a stranger,
In exile and distress, and daily danger;
To fawn upon his foes, to risk the trial
Of a friend's faith, and suffer a denial!
386
LXXXIV.
No mean or coward heart will I commendIn an old comrade or a party friend;
Nor with ungenerous hasty zeal decry
A noble-minded gallant enemy.
388
LXXXV.
Not to be born—never to see the sun!No worldly blessing is a greater one!
And the next best is speedily to die—
And lapt beneath a load of earth to lie!
389
LXXXVI.
For noble minds the worst of miseries,Worse than old age or wearisome disease,
Is poverty—from poverty to flee,
From some tall precipice prone to the sea
It were a fair escape to leap below!
In poverty, dear Kurnus, we forego
Freedom in word and deed, body and mind:
Action and thought, are fetter'd and confined.
Let me then fly, dear Kurnus, once again!
Wide as the limits of the land and main,
From these entanglements; with these in view
Death is the lighter evil of the two.
LXXXVII.
Wearied and sick at heart, in seas of trouble,I work against the wind, and strive to double
The dark disastrous cape of poverty.
LXXXVIII.
All kinds of shabby shifts are understood,All kinds of arts are practised, bad and good;
All kinds of ways to gain a livelihood.
390
LXXXIX.
I cannot warble like a nightingale;
This voice of mine, I fear, is like to fail,
With rambling on a revel late at night.
This voice of mine, I fear, is like to fail,
With rambling on a revel late at night.
I shall not make a poor excuse, to slight
Your piper's art and practice; but the friend;
That ought to bear his part here and attend,
In fact is absent—I must do my best,
And put my talent fairly to the test.
So, praying to the gods for help and grace,
Close to the piper's side I take my place.
Your piper's art and practice; but the friend;
That ought to bear his part here and attend,
In fact is absent—I must do my best,
And put my talent fairly to the test.
So, praying to the gods for help and grace,
Close to the piper's side I take my place.
XC.
O poverty! how sorely do you press,Debasing soul and body with distress:
To such degrading offices you bind
A manly form, an elevated mind,
Once elegantly fashion'd and refined.
391
XCI.
I wish that a fair trial were prepared,
Friend Academus! with the prize declared,
A comely slave, the conqueror's reward;
For a full proof, betwixt myself and you,
Which is the better minstrel of the two.
Then would I show you that a Mule surpasses,
In his performance, all the breed of Asses.
Friend Academus! with the prize declared,
A comely slave, the conqueror's reward;
For a full proof, betwixt myself and you,
Which is the better minstrel of the two.
Then would I show you that a Mule surpasses,
In his performance, all the breed of Asses.
Enough of such discourse. Now let us try
To join our best endeavours, you and I,
With voice and music, since the muse has bless'd
Us both with her endowments; and possessed
With the fair science of harmonious sound
The neighbouring people and the cities round.
To join our best endeavours, you and I,
With voice and music, since the muse has bless'd
Us both with her endowments; and possessed
With the fair science of harmonious sound
The neighbouring people and the cities round.
XCII.
You boast of wealth, and scornfully deploreMy poverty—something I have in store;
And with God's blessing I shall make it more.
XCIII.
Though gifted with a shrewd and subtle ken,Timagoras!—the secret hearts of men
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For poor and shabby souls, in riches dress'd,
Make a fair show; while indigence and care
Give to the noble mind a meaner air.
XCIV.
Dunces are often rich, while indigence393
Nor wealth alone, nor judgment can avail:
In either case, art and improvement fail.
XCV.
The passions and the wants of nature breedWinged desires, that with an airy speed
Hurry abroad, for pleasure or for need,
On various errands, various as their hue—
A fluttering, eager, ever busy crew.
XCVI.
Plutus, of all the Gods, the first and best!My wrongs with your assistance are redrest;
Now, reinstated in respectability,
In spite of all my baseness and humility.
XCVII.
My old companions, Fancy and Desire!To treat you both, as each of you require,
My means are insufficient—never mind!
Ours is the common case of human-kind.
394
XCVIII.
Current expenditure—to bring it all
Within the compass of our capital,
Is a wise plan, but difficult withal.
Could we beforehand ascertain the date
Of our existence, we might fix a rate
For our expense, and make it more or less;
But, as it is, we must proceed by guess.
The road divides! which path am I to choose?
Perplex'd with opposite diverging views.
Say, shall I struggle on, to save and spare,
Or lead an easy life, and banish care?
Some have I seen, with competence of wealth,
Indifferent to friendship, pleasure, health,
Struggling and saving; till the final call,
Death sends his summons, and confiscates all!
Allotting to the thankless heedless heir,
The produce of his economic care!
Within the compass of our capital,
Is a wise plan, but difficult withal.
Could we beforehand ascertain the date
Of our existence, we might fix a rate
For our expense, and make it more or less;
But, as it is, we must proceed by guess.
The road divides! which path am I to choose?
Perplex'd with opposite diverging views.
Say, shall I struggle on, to save and spare,
Or lead an easy life, and banish care?
Some have I seen, with competence of wealth,
Indifferent to friendship, pleasure, health,
Struggling and saving; till the final call,
Death sends his summons, and confiscates all!
Allotting to the thankless heedless heir,
The produce of his economic care!
Yet others have I seen reckless of pelf—
“I take my pastime, and I please myself—”
Such was the jolly phrase: the same gallant
Have I beheld an utter mendicant;
In sad dependence, at his latter end,
Watching and importuning every friend.
“I take my pastime, and I please myself—”
Such was the jolly phrase: the same gallant
Have I beheld an utter mendicant;
In sad dependence, at his latter end,
Watching and importuning every friend.
Our wiser course then, Damocles! I deem,
Is that which steers aloof from each extreme:
Not to consume my life with care and pain,
Economizing for another's gain;
And least of all, to risk the future fears
Of indigence in my declining years.
With this reflection, therefore, I incline
To lean a little to the saving line;
For something should be left, when life is fled,
To purchase decent duty to the dead;
Those easy tears, the customary debt
Of kindly recollection and regret.
Besides, the saving of superfluous cost
Is a sure profit, never wholly lost;
Not altogether lost, though left behind,
Bequeath'd in kindness to a friendly mind.
Is that which steers aloof from each extreme:
Not to consume my life with care and pain,
Economizing for another's gain;
And least of all, to risk the future fears
Of indigence in my declining years.
With this reflection, therefore, I incline
To lean a little to the saving line;
For something should be left, when life is fled,
To purchase decent duty to the dead;
Those easy tears, the customary debt
Of kindly recollection and regret.
Besides, the saving of superfluous cost
395
Not altogether lost, though left behind,
Bequeath'd in kindness to a friendly mind.
And for the present, can a lot be found
Fairer and happier than a name renown'd,
And easy competence, with honor crown'd;
The just approval of the good and wise,
Public applauses, friendly courtesies;
Where all combine, a single name to grace
With honour and pre-eminence of place,
Coevals, elders, and the rising race!
Fairer and happier than a name renown'd,
And easy competence, with honor crown'd;
The just approval of the good and wise,
Public applauses, friendly courtesies;
Where all combine, a single name to grace
With honour and pre-eminence of place,
Coevals, elders, and the rising race!
XCIX.
Peace is my wish,—may peace and plenty crown
This happy land, the people and the town!
May peace remain! and may we never miss
Good cheer and merry meetings such as this!
Whether at home or here, all wars I hate,
All battle I detest and execrate.
Then never hurry forward! for we fight
Not for ourselves nor for our country's right.
This happy land, the people and the town!
May peace remain! and may we never miss
Good cheer and merry meetings such as this!
Whether at home or here, all wars I hate,
All battle I detest and execrate.
396
Not for ourselves nor for our country's right.
But with the bawling herald, loud and clear,
Shouting a noisy summons in my ear,
And with my own good horse, for very shame,
We must engage and join the bloody game.
Shouting a noisy summons in my ear,
And with my own good horse, for very shame,
We must engage and join the bloody game.
C.
[The Gods have granted mighty stores of pelf]
The Gods have granted mighty stores of pelfTo many a sluggard, useless to himself
And his own partizans: but high renown
Awaits the warrior who defends the town.
398
CI.
O Plutus! justly, to your gifts and you,
Mankind attribute praise and honor due.
With your assistance, we securely face
Defeat and disappointment and disgrace.
Thus to reward the virtuous, and to slight
Wicked and dirty knaves, is surely right;
For with the world at large, no merit tells,
But Plutus and his bounty,—nothing else!
No! not the sense of Rhadamanthus old,
Nor all the shrewd devices manifold,
Which Sisyphus, the keen Corinthian, knew;
That wily chief, that, if old tales are true,
Made a most strange escape, so poets tell,—
By dint of rhetoric, he return'd from hell!
For she (that kind oblivion can dispense,
But takes away the judgement and the sense)
The Goddess Proserpine, by strong persuasion,
Consented to connive at his evasion—
A thing unheard of, and unknown before;
That, having pass'd the dark infernal door,
And visited those dreary realms below,
From that disastrous prison-house of woe,
A man by policy should work his way,
Emerging into light and upper day!
Mankind attribute praise and honor due.
With your assistance, we securely face
Defeat and disappointment and disgrace.
Thus to reward the virtuous, and to slight
Wicked and dirty knaves, is surely right;
For with the world at large, no merit tells,
But Plutus and his bounty,—nothing else!
No! not the sense of Rhadamanthus old,
Nor all the shrewd devices manifold,
Which Sisyphus, the keen Corinthian, knew;
That wily chief, that, if old tales are true,
Made a most strange escape, so poets tell,—
By dint of rhetoric, he return'd from hell!
For she (that kind oblivion can dispense,
But takes away the judgement and the sense)
The Goddess Proserpine, by strong persuasion,
Consented to connive at his evasion—
A thing unheard of, and unknown before;
That, having pass'd the dark infernal door,
And visited those dreary realms below,
From that disastrous prison-house of woe,
399
Emerging into light and upper day!
Sisyphus gain'd a point which none beside
(Of all that ever liv'd or ever died)
Could have achiev'd—yet Sisyphus would fail:
Nor would Ulysses with his arts prevail:
Nor aged Nestor with his eloquence—
No merit would avail you, no pretence,
Though you possess'd the vigour and the speed
Of the swift Harpies, or the winged breed
Of Boreas—in the proud Olympic game
A conqueror! your native place and name
Recorded and announc'd with loud acclaim;
Still, would you find the common saying hold,
“Fame is a jest: favour is bought and sold:
“No power on earth is like the power of gold.”
(Of all that ever liv'd or ever died)
Could have achiev'd—yet Sisyphus would fail:
Nor would Ulysses with his arts prevail:
Nor aged Nestor with his eloquence—
No merit would avail you, no pretence,
Though you possess'd the vigour and the speed
Of the swift Harpies, or the winged breed
Of Boreas—in the proud Olympic game
A conqueror! your native place and name
Recorded and announc'd with loud acclaim;
Still, would you find the common saying hold,
“Fame is a jest: favour is bought and sold:
“No power on earth is like the power of gold.”
CII.
Enjoy your time, my soul! another raceWill shortly fill the world, and take your place,
With their own hopes and fears, sorrow and mirth:
I shall be dust the while, and crumbled earth.
But think not of it! Drink the racy wine
400
Which Theotimus in the sunny glen,
(Old Theotimus, lov'd by Gods and men)
Planted, and water'd from a plenteous source,
Teaching the wayward stream a better course—
Drink it, and cheer your heart, and banish care—
A load of wine will lighten our despair.
CIII.
Ye twins of Jove! an undivided twain,That on Eurotas' shore and happy plain
In endless harmony preside and reign,
Punish our guilt! If ever by design,
I wrong my friend, let all the loss be mine:
But, if the fault is his, double the fine!
CIV.
Now that in mid career, checking his course,The bright sun pauses in his pride and force,
Let us prepare to dine, and eat and drink
The best of every thing that heart can think;
And let the shapely Spartan damsel fair
Bring, with a rounded arm and graceful air,
Water to wash, and garlands for our hair.
401
Invented and observ'd by sickly fools,
Let us be brave, and resolutely drink,
Not minding if the dog-star rise or sink.
CV.
May Jove, the Almighty, with his own right handGuard and uphold this happy town and land!
With all the glorious blessed Gods above!
And may the bright Apollo guide and move
My voice and fancy, cunningly to carp
In songs accordant to the pipe and harp!
When, after solemn rites of sacrifice,
At feasts and banquets freely we devise
402
All fears of Persia and her threaten'd war;
With joyous airy songs of merry verse,
Quaffing and chanting—“May we ne'er be worse,”
But better, if a better thing can be,
Than thus to live at ease, cheerful and free;
While far remote, no fears our thoughts engage
Of death approaching, or disastrous age.
403
CVI.
You great Apollo, with its walls and towers
Fenc'd and adorn'd of old this town of ours!
Such favour in thy sight Alcathous won,
Of Pelops old the fair and manly son.
Now therefore in thy clemency divine,
Protect these very walls, our own and thine!
Guide and assist us, turn aside the boast
Of the destroying, haughty Persian host!
So shall thy people each returning spring
Slay fatted hecatombs; and gladly bring
Fair gifts, with chaunted hymns, and lively song,
Dances and feasts, and happy shouts among;
Before thy altar, glorifying Thee,
In peace and health and wealth, cheerful and free.
Fenc'd and adorn'd of old this town of ours!
Such favour in thy sight Alcathous won,
Of Pelops old the fair and manly son.
Now therefore in thy clemency divine,
Protect these very walls, our own and thine!
Guide and assist us, turn aside the boast
Of the destroying, haughty Persian host!
So shall thy people each returning spring
Slay fatted hecatombs; and gladly bring
Fair gifts, with chaunted hymns, and lively song,
Dances and feasts, and happy shouts among;
Before thy altar, glorifying Thee,
In peace and health and wealth, cheerful and free.
Yet much I fear the faction and the strife,
Throughout our Grecian cities, raging rife
And their wild councils. But, do thou defend
This town of ours, our founder and our friend!
Throughout our Grecian cities, raging rife
And their wild councils. But, do thou defend
This town of ours, our founder and our friend!
Wide have I wander'd, far beyond the sea,
Even to the distant shores of Sicily;
To broad Eubœa's plentiful domain,
With the rich vineyards, in its planted plain;
And to the sunny wave and winding edge
Of fair Eurotas with its reedy sedge—
Where Sparta stands in simple majesty:
Among her manly rulers, there was I!
Greeted and welcom'd (there and every where)
With courteous entertainment—kind and fair;
Yet still my weary spirit would repine,
Longing again to view this land of mine.
Henceforward no design nor interest
Shall ever move me but the first and best,
With learning's happy gift to celebrate,
Adorn and dignify my native State.
The song, the dance, music and verse agreeing,
Will occupy my life, and fill my being:
Pursuits of elegance and learned skill
(With good repute and kindness and good will,
Among the wiser sort) will pass my time
Without an enemy, without a crime;
Harmless and just with every rank of men
Both the free native and the denizen.
Even to the distant shores of Sicily;
To broad Eubœa's plentiful domain,
With the rich vineyards, in its planted plain;
And to the sunny wave and winding edge
Of fair Eurotas with its reedy sedge—
Where Sparta stands in simple majesty:
Among her manly rulers, there was I!
Greeted and welcom'd (there and every where)
With courteous entertainment—kind and fair;
Yet still my weary spirit would repine,
Longing again to view this land of mine.
Henceforward no design nor interest
Shall ever move me but the first and best,
With learning's happy gift to celebrate,
Adorn and dignify my native State.
The song, the dance, music and verse agreeing,
Will occupy my life, and fill my being:
404
(With good repute and kindness and good will,
Among the wiser sort) will pass my time
Without an enemy, without a crime;
Harmless and just with every rank of men
Both the free native and the denizen.
CVII.
The Gods in just allotment have assign'dYouth and old age, the portion of mankind,
Alike for all; impartially we share
Youth's early pleasures; equally we bear
The latter ills of life, sickness and care.
One single evil, more severe and rude
Than age or sickness or decrepitude,
Is dealt unequally; for him that rears
A thankless offspring, in his latter years
Ungratefully requited for his pains,
A parsimonious life, and thrifty gains
405
And no return but insolent reproof,
Such as might scare a beggar from the gate,
A wretch unknown, poor and importunate!
To be revil'd, avoided, hated, curst;
This is the last of evils, and the worst!
CVIII.
The servant of the Muse, gifted and grac'dWith high pre-eminence of art and taste,
Has an allotted duty to fulfil;
Bound to dispense the treasure of his skill,
Without a selfish or invidious view;
Bound to recite, and to compose anew;
Not to reserve his talent for himself,
In secret, like a miser with his pelf.
409
TRANSLATIONS FROM “THE POEM OF THE CID.”
411
[They fain would sally forth, but he, the noble Cid]
I.
ARGUMENT.
The Cid being driven into banishment by the intrigues of his enemies, is accompanied by several of his friends and followers, for whom he undertakes to provide by carrying on a predatory war against the Moors. In the course of their adventures they surprise the Castle of Alcocer, but are soon after surrounded and besieged by a superior army. After some difference of opinion, the Cid yields to the wishes of his followers, and determines upon a sally, which is successful.
They fain would sally forth, but he, the noble Cid,
Accounted it as rashness, and constantly forbid.
The fourth week was beginning, the third already past,
The Cid and his companions they are now agreed at last.
“The water is cut off, the bread is well nigh spent,
“To allow us to depart by night the Moors will not consent.
“To combat with them in the field our numbers are but few,
“Gentlemen, tell me your minds, what do you think to do?”
Minaya Alvar Fañez answer'd him again,
“We are come here from fair Castile to live like banish'd men.
“There are here six hundred of us, beside some nine or ten;
“It is by fighting with the Moors that we have earn'd our bread,
“In the name of God that made us, let nothing more be said,
“Let us sally forth upon them by the dawn of day.”
The Cid replied, “Minaya, I approve of what you say,
“You have spoken for the best, and had done so without doubt.”
The Moors that were within the town they took and turn'd them out,
That none should know their secret; they labour'd all that night,
They were ready for the combat with the morning light.
The Cid was in his armour mounted at their head,
He spoke aloud amongst them, you shall hear the words he said:
“We must all sally forth! There can not a man be spared,
“Two footmen only at the gates to close them and keep guard;
“If we are slain in battle, they will bury us here in peace,
“If we survive and conquer, our riches will increase.
“And you, Pero Bermuez, the standard you must bear,
“Advance it like a valiant man, evenly and fair;
“But do not venture forward before I give command.”
Bermuez took the standard, he went and kiss'd his hand.
The gates were then thrown open, and forth at once they rush'd,
The outposts of the Moorish host back to the camp were push'd;
The camp was all in tumult, and there was such a thunder
Of cymbals and of drums, as if earth would cleave in sunder.
There you might see the Moors arming themselves in haste,
And the two main battles how they were forming fast;
Horsemen and footmen mix'd, a countless troop and vast.
The Moors are moving forward, the battle soon must join,
“My men, stand here in order, ranged upon a line!
“Let not a man move from his rank before I give the sign.”
Pero Bermuez heard the word, but he could not refrain.
He held the banner in his hand, he gave his horse the rein;
“You see yon foremost squadron there, the thickest of the foes,
“Noble Cid, God be your aid, for there your banner goes!
“Let him that serves and honours it show the duty that he owes.”
Earnestly the Cid call'd out, “For heaven's sake, be still!”
Bermuez cried, “I cannot hold,” so eager was his will.
He spurr'd his horse, and drove him on amid the Moorish rout;
They strove to win the banner, and compass'd him about.
Had not his armour been so true he had lost either life or limb;
The Cid call'd out again, “For heaven's sake, succour him!”
Accounted it as rashness, and constantly forbid.
The fourth week was beginning, the third already past,
The Cid and his companions they are now agreed at last.
“The water is cut off, the bread is well nigh spent,
“To allow us to depart by night the Moors will not consent.
“To combat with them in the field our numbers are but few,
“Gentlemen, tell me your minds, what do you think to do?”
Minaya Alvar Fañez answer'd him again,
“We are come here from fair Castile to live like banish'd men.
“There are here six hundred of us, beside some nine or ten;
“It is by fighting with the Moors that we have earn'd our bread,
“In the name of God that made us, let nothing more be said,
412
The Cid replied, “Minaya, I approve of what you say,
“You have spoken for the best, and had done so without doubt.”
The Moors that were within the town they took and turn'd them out,
That none should know their secret; they labour'd all that night,
They were ready for the combat with the morning light.
The Cid was in his armour mounted at their head,
He spoke aloud amongst them, you shall hear the words he said:
“We must all sally forth! There can not a man be spared,
“Two footmen only at the gates to close them and keep guard;
“If we are slain in battle, they will bury us here in peace,
“If we survive and conquer, our riches will increase.
“And you, Pero Bermuez, the standard you must bear,
“Advance it like a valiant man, evenly and fair;
“But do not venture forward before I give command.”
Bermuez took the standard, he went and kiss'd his hand.
The gates were then thrown open, and forth at once they rush'd,
The outposts of the Moorish host back to the camp were push'd;
The camp was all in tumult, and there was such a thunder
Of cymbals and of drums, as if earth would cleave in sunder.
There you might see the Moors arming themselves in haste,
And the two main battles how they were forming fast;
Horsemen and footmen mix'd, a countless troop and vast.
The Moors are moving forward, the battle soon must join,
“My men, stand here in order, ranged upon a line!
“Let not a man move from his rank before I give the sign.”
Pero Bermuez heard the word, but he could not refrain.
He held the banner in his hand, he gave his horse the rein;
“You see yon foremost squadron there, the thickest of the foes,
“Noble Cid, God be your aid, for there your banner goes!
“Let him that serves and honours it show the duty that he owes.”
Earnestly the Cid call'd out, “For heaven's sake, be still!”
Bermuez cried, “I cannot hold,” so eager was his will.
He spurr'd his horse, and drove him on amid the Moorish rout;
They strove to win the banner, and compass'd him about.
Had not his armour been so true he had lost either life or limb;
The Cid call'd out again, “For heaven's sake, succour him!”
Their shields before their breasts, forth at once they go,
Their lances in the rest levell'd fair and low;
Their banners and their crests waving in a row,
Their heads all stooping down toward the saddle bow.
The Cid was in the midst, his shout was heard afar,
“I am Ruy Diaz, the Champion of Bivar;
“Strike amongst them, gentlemen, for sweet mercy's sake!”
There where Bermuez fought, amidst the foe they brake,
Three hundred banner'd knights, it was a gallant show:
Three hundred Moors they kill'd, a man with every blow;
When they wheel'd and turn'd, as many more lay slain,
You might see them raise their lances and level them again.
There you might see the breastplates, how they were cleft in twain,
And many a Moorish shield lie shatter'd on the plain.
The pennons that were white mark'd with a crimson stain,
The horses running wild whose riders had been slain.
The Christians call upon Saint James, the Moors upon Mahound,
There were thirteen hundred of them slain on a little spot of ground.
Minaya Alvar Fañez smote with all his might,
He went as he was wont, and was foremost in the fight.
There was Galin Garcia, of courage firm and clear,
Felez Munioz, the Cid's own cousin dear;
Antolinez of Burgos, a hardy knight and keen,
Munio Gustioz, his pupil that had been.
The Cid on his gilded saddle above them all was seen.
There was Martin Munioz, that ruled in Montmayor,
There were Alvar Fañez and Alvar Salvador:
These were the followers of the Cid, with many others more,
In rescue of Bermuez and the standard that he bore.
Minaya is dismounted, his courser has been slain,
He fights upon his feet, and smites with might and main.
The Cid came all in haste to help him to horse again;
He saw a Moor well mounted, thereof he was full fain,
Through the girdle at a stroke he cast him to the plain:
He call'd to Minaya Fañez and reach'd him out the rein,
“Mount and ride, Minaya, you are my right hand,
“We shall have need of you to-day, these Moors will not disband!”
Minaya leapt upon the horse, his sword was in his hand;
Nothing that came near him could resist him or withstand;
All that fall within his reach he despatches as he goes.
The Cid rode to King Fariz, and struck at him three blows;
The third was far the best, it forced the blood to flow:
The stream ran from his side, and stain'd his arms below;
The King caught round the rein, and turn'd his back to go,
The Cid has won the battle with that single blow.
Their lances in the rest levell'd fair and low;
Their banners and their crests waving in a row,
413
The Cid was in the midst, his shout was heard afar,
“I am Ruy Diaz, the Champion of Bivar;
“Strike amongst them, gentlemen, for sweet mercy's sake!”
There where Bermuez fought, amidst the foe they brake,
Three hundred banner'd knights, it was a gallant show:
Three hundred Moors they kill'd, a man with every blow;
When they wheel'd and turn'd, as many more lay slain,
You might see them raise their lances and level them again.
There you might see the breastplates, how they were cleft in twain,
And many a Moorish shield lie shatter'd on the plain.
The pennons that were white mark'd with a crimson stain,
The horses running wild whose riders had been slain.
The Christians call upon Saint James, the Moors upon Mahound,
There were thirteen hundred of them slain on a little spot of ground.
Minaya Alvar Fañez smote with all his might,
He went as he was wont, and was foremost in the fight.
There was Galin Garcia, of courage firm and clear,
Felez Munioz, the Cid's own cousin dear;
Antolinez of Burgos, a hardy knight and keen,
Munio Gustioz, his pupil that had been.
The Cid on his gilded saddle above them all was seen.
There was Martin Munioz, that ruled in Montmayor,
There were Alvar Fañez and Alvar Salvador:
These were the followers of the Cid, with many others more,
In rescue of Bermuez and the standard that he bore.
Minaya is dismounted, his courser has been slain,
He fights upon his feet, and smites with might and main.
The Cid came all in haste to help him to horse again;
He saw a Moor well mounted, thereof he was full fain,
Through the girdle at a stroke he cast him to the plain:
He call'd to Minaya Fañez and reach'd him out the rein,
“Mount and ride, Minaya, you are my right hand,
“We shall have need of you to-day, these Moors will not disband!”
Minaya leapt upon the horse, his sword was in his hand;
Nothing that came near him could resist him or withstand;
All that fall within his reach he despatches as he goes.
The Cid rode to King Fariz, and struck at him three blows;
414
The stream ran from his side, and stain'd his arms below;
The King caught round the rein, and turn'd his back to go,
The Cid has won the battle with that single blow.
II.
ARGUMENT.
On the death of King Almudafar, his sons Zulema and Abenalfange divided his dominions; the former had the kingdom of Zaragosa, and put it under the protection of the Cid. The latter had the kingdom of Denia; and, as there began to be great enmity between the brothers, Abenalfange was helped by Don Pedro king of Aragon and Count Don Ramon Berenger of Barcelona, who thereby became enemies of the Cid. The Cid with 200 horsemen attacked the lands of Alcaniz, and after that infested Huesca and Montalban. Of this tidings were taken to the king of Denia, and to the Count of Barcelona, who attack the Cid in a valley near the Pine-wood of Thebar, are routed, the Count taken prisoner, and his sword Colada taken by the Cid. The Count refuses all food, and starves himself for three days, till the Cid promises him and two of his followers their freedom if he eats a hearty dinner, which he does, and obtains his freedom.
The news spread wide and far, it reached Count Ramon's ear,
The Count of Barcelona Don Ramon Berenger,
How the Cid Ruy Diaz was riding far and near,
Plundering all the country. The Count was bold and hot,
A proud and angry word was spoken on the spot:
“Ruy Diaz has offended us and evermore offends;
“He smote my kinsman in the court and never made amends;
“And here he comes to rob the Moors, my neighbours and my friends,
“That pay me for protection, and live within my league.
“I never join'd against him with faction or intrigue,
“Or was his secret enemy, or defied him as a foe,
“Or wrong'd him or attack'd him; but since he wills it so,
“Since he comes against us, against him we must go.”
The Count with all his vassals is mustering strong and fast—
They throng in troops together and follow forth in haste,
Christian Knights and Franks, and Moors of every caste,
Riding in hot pursuit of the Champion of Bivar,
And there at length they found him, at the Pine-wood of Thebar;
It was a three days' march before they reach'd so far.
The Count of Barcelona Don Ramon Berenger,
How the Cid Ruy Diaz was riding far and near,
Plundering all the country. The Count was bold and hot,
A proud and angry word was spoken on the spot:
“Ruy Diaz has offended us and evermore offends;
“He smote my kinsman in the court and never made amends;
“And here he comes to rob the Moors, my neighbours and my friends,
“That pay me for protection, and live within my league.
“I never join'd against him with faction or intrigue,
“Or was his secret enemy, or defied him as a foe,
“Or wrong'd him or attack'd him; but since he wills it so,
“Since he comes against us, against him we must go.”
415
They throng in troops together and follow forth in haste,
Christian Knights and Franks, and Moors of every caste,
Riding in hot pursuit of the Champion of Bivar,
And there at length they found him, at the Pine-wood of Thebar;
It was a three days' march before they reach'd so far.
The Cid came with his plunder, a convoy large and good,
Descending from the mountain to a vale beside the wood;
A summons there was sent him from the Count Berenger,
The Cid, when he received it, returned a messenger—
“Tell the Count Berenger we mean to part from hence;
“We wish to part in peace, we never meant offence;
“Whatever gain we made was not at his expense.”
Descending from the mountain to a vale beside the wood;
A summons there was sent him from the Count Berenger,
The Cid, when he received it, returned a messenger—
“Tell the Count Berenger we mean to part from hence;
“We wish to part in peace, we never meant offence;
“Whatever gain we made was not at his expense.”
The Count, in haste and anger, replied—“it is not true;
“He shall now pay me for the past, and for the present too;
“I shall teach this outlaw the respect that is my due.”
Wi' that the messenger returned; the Cid might fairly see
That he must risk a battle, it might no better be.
“Look to your baggage, gentlemen, set all the gear apart,
“And arm yourselves for battle, we fight before we part.
“Our enemies are here at hand with a mighty threat and boast,
“The Count of Barcelona forsooth with all his host!—
“Franks and Moors together I know not which are most:
“But since they come pursuing, and their intent is clear
“To attack us as they find us, we'll fight our battle here:
“They will be riding down the slope with a broken pace;
“Our saddles are all firm and deep, well girded in their place,
“And theirs are easy surcingles and saddles for a race.
“You will not find among them one well arm'd cavalier;
“A hundred of our number might fight them without fear:
“Before they reach the valley let us meet them with the spear;
“For one man that you strike three saddles will be clear.
“We shall teach the Count Don Ramon Berenger,
“With knighthood and with practice and proof of manhood shear,
“What kind of knights and what a chief he comes pursuing here,
“To take our booty from us, the spoil we bought so dear!”
And now the noble Cid had finish'd his discourse;
His knights are rang'd in order, each upon his horse.
The Franks come down the hill with a random course.
Just where the mountain ended, at the valley's source,
The Cid gave orders to his men to charge with all their force:
That order they perform'd with all their soul and heart,
With pennons and with lances so well they play'd their part,
Some are pierc'd and wounded, others beaten down,
The Count is taken captive, his host is overthrown,
His sword that was worth a thousand marks, the Cid has made his own,
The noble sword Colada that through the world was known.
He has adorn'd that mighty beard with honour and renown,
His beard, that as a banish'd man was left all overgrown—
The Count is taken with the Cid in close and steady ward
A surety for his creditors for them to watch and guard—
The Cid came from his tent, and at the door he stood,
His knights are crowding round him, all in a merry mood,
Right merry was the Cid, the spoil was rich and good.—
“He shall now pay me for the past, and for the present too;
“I shall teach this outlaw the respect that is my due.”
Wi' that the messenger returned; the Cid might fairly see
That he must risk a battle, it might no better be.
“Look to your baggage, gentlemen, set all the gear apart,
“And arm yourselves for battle, we fight before we part.
“Our enemies are here at hand with a mighty threat and boast,
“The Count of Barcelona forsooth with all his host!—
“Franks and Moors together I know not which are most:
“But since they come pursuing, and their intent is clear
“To attack us as they find us, we'll fight our battle here:
“They will be riding down the slope with a broken pace;
“Our saddles are all firm and deep, well girded in their place,
“And theirs are easy surcingles and saddles for a race.
“You will not find among them one well arm'd cavalier;
“A hundred of our number might fight them without fear:
“Before they reach the valley let us meet them with the spear;
“For one man that you strike three saddles will be clear.
“We shall teach the Count Don Ramon Berenger,
“With knighthood and with practice and proof of manhood shear,
“What kind of knights and what a chief he comes pursuing here,
“To take our booty from us, the spoil we bought so dear!”
And now the noble Cid had finish'd his discourse;
His knights are rang'd in order, each upon his horse.
The Franks come down the hill with a random course.
Just where the mountain ended, at the valley's source,
The Cid gave orders to his men to charge with all their force:
416
With pennons and with lances so well they play'd their part,
Some are pierc'd and wounded, others beaten down,
The Count is taken captive, his host is overthrown,
His sword that was worth a thousand marks, the Cid has made his own,
The noble sword Colada that through the world was known.
He has adorn'd that mighty beard with honour and renown,
His beard, that as a banish'd man was left all overgrown—
The Count is taken with the Cid in close and steady ward
A surety for his creditors for them to watch and guard—
The Cid came from his tent, and at the door he stood,
His knights are crowding round him, all in a merry mood,
Right merry was the Cid, the spoil was rich and good.—
For the service of the Cid a banquet was prepar'd,
Count Ramon would not eat of it, or pay the least regard;
They serv'd the meat before him. He laugh'd at them again—
“I would not eat a morsel for all the wealth of Spain;
“I would rather lose my life, and perish here outright,
“Since such a set of ragged knaves have conquer'd me in fight.”
The good Cid Ruy Diaz, these were the words he said:
“Eat and drink, Sir Count, of the wine and of the bread,
“If you do as I advise you shortly may be free,
“Else you can never hope a Christian land to see—
“Be merry, Don Rodrigo—feast and make good cheer.”
“I shall not eat a morsel; I mean to perish here.”—
They shar'd and pack'd the booty; till the third day was past,
The Count continued still to famish and to fast.
They could not make him eat a morsel nor a crumb:
At length the worthy Cid said, “Come, Sir Ramon, come!
“If ever you design to return to Christendom,
“You needs must break your fast; therefore if you'll agree
“To eat a goodly dinner fairly and lustily,
“With two companions of your choice, I promise all the three
“To quit you from your prison, and leave you ransom-free.”
The Count was joyful at the word, and answer'd cheerfully:
“Cid, if you mean it as you say, this way to ransom me,
“As long as I shall live a marvel it will be.”—
“Then come to dinner, Count, and when you've eat your fill,
“You with your two companions may go whene'er you will;
“But for the booty that I gain'd, I mean to keep it still:
“No not a farthing will I give of all the wealth you lost,
“Your plea was overthrown in fight, and you must pay the cost;
“Besides, I want the goods myself, for the service of my host,
“My ragged hearty followers, my safeguard and my boast;
“Thus we must live, till Heaven above has otherwise disposed,
“Standing in anger of the king, with all the best and most
“Of our inheritance and lands sequester'd and foreclosed;
“As is the wont of banish'd men, we needs must think it fair
“To keep our troop together, with plundering here and there.”
The Count was pleased, and call'd for water for his hands,
A bason with the banquet was brought at his commands;
Two knights were with him, that the Cid released him ransomless;
I warrant all the three were joyous at the mess.
Then spoke the noble Cid—“Sir Count, before we part,
“You must perform your promise, and eat with all your heart,
“Else I must keep you with me to whet your appetite.”
The Count replied—“The contract shall be fulfill'd aright;
“I promise you to do my part, and do it with delight.”
The noble-minded Cid stood smiling there beside
To see the Count at meat, so fast his hands he plied.
“An' if it be your pleasure, Cid, now that our dinner's done,
“Give order for our horses, and let us hence be gone;
“Of all the meals I ever made this is the heartiest one.”—
Three palfreys were brought up to them, with saddles rich and fair,
With mantles and with housings of cloth and peltry rare.
The Count was in the midst, his knights on either side,
The Cid for half a stage would escort him on his ride;—
“Farewell Sir Count! you leave me ransomless and frank;
“I quit you with all courtesies; and furthermore I thank
“Your bounty for the booty you left with me behind;
“And if you should repent of it, or chance to change your mind,
“And wish to mend your luck, whenever you're inclined,
“Myself and my companions are easy folks to find:—
“But if you leave me quiet, (as well, methinks, you may)
“Your lands will fare the better; and on a future day
“With your own goods or others perhaps I may repay.”—
“Cid, you may fairly boast, you're safe upon that head;
“For this year and the next my score is fully paid;
“And as for coming after you let nothing more be said.”
The Count went crowding on his pace, and looking fast behind
Pressing and urging onward, he doubted in his mind
The Cid might change his purpose. He little knew the Cid;
That would have been a treason,—a thing he never did;
He never would have done so base an act—not even
To purchase all the gold and treasure under heaven.
Count Ramon would not eat of it, or pay the least regard;
They serv'd the meat before him. He laugh'd at them again—
“I would not eat a morsel for all the wealth of Spain;
“I would rather lose my life, and perish here outright,
“Since such a set of ragged knaves have conquer'd me in fight.”
The good Cid Ruy Diaz, these were the words he said:
“Eat and drink, Sir Count, of the wine and of the bread,
“If you do as I advise you shortly may be free,
“Else you can never hope a Christian land to see—
“Be merry, Don Rodrigo—feast and make good cheer.”
“I shall not eat a morsel; I mean to perish here.”—
They shar'd and pack'd the booty; till the third day was past,
The Count continued still to famish and to fast.
They could not make him eat a morsel nor a crumb:
At length the worthy Cid said, “Come, Sir Ramon, come!
“If ever you design to return to Christendom,
“You needs must break your fast; therefore if you'll agree
“To eat a goodly dinner fairly and lustily,
“With two companions of your choice, I promise all the three
“To quit you from your prison, and leave you ransom-free.”
The Count was joyful at the word, and answer'd cheerfully:
“Cid, if you mean it as you say, this way to ransom me,
“As long as I shall live a marvel it will be.”—
“Then come to dinner, Count, and when you've eat your fill,
“You with your two companions may go whene'er you will;
“But for the booty that I gain'd, I mean to keep it still:
417
“Your plea was overthrown in fight, and you must pay the cost;
“Besides, I want the goods myself, for the service of my host,
“My ragged hearty followers, my safeguard and my boast;
“Thus we must live, till Heaven above has otherwise disposed,
“Standing in anger of the king, with all the best and most
“Of our inheritance and lands sequester'd and foreclosed;
“As is the wont of banish'd men, we needs must think it fair
“To keep our troop together, with plundering here and there.”
The Count was pleased, and call'd for water for his hands,
A bason with the banquet was brought at his commands;
Two knights were with him, that the Cid released him ransomless;
I warrant all the three were joyous at the mess.
Then spoke the noble Cid—“Sir Count, before we part,
“You must perform your promise, and eat with all your heart,
“Else I must keep you with me to whet your appetite.”
The Count replied—“The contract shall be fulfill'd aright;
“I promise you to do my part, and do it with delight.”
The noble-minded Cid stood smiling there beside
To see the Count at meat, so fast his hands he plied.
“An' if it be your pleasure, Cid, now that our dinner's done,
“Give order for our horses, and let us hence be gone;
“Of all the meals I ever made this is the heartiest one.”—
Three palfreys were brought up to them, with saddles rich and fair,
With mantles and with housings of cloth and peltry rare.
The Count was in the midst, his knights on either side,
The Cid for half a stage would escort him on his ride;—
“Farewell Sir Count! you leave me ransomless and frank;
“I quit you with all courtesies; and furthermore I thank
“Your bounty for the booty you left with me behind;
“And if you should repent of it, or chance to change your mind,
“And wish to mend your luck, whenever you're inclined,
“Myself and my companions are easy folks to find:—
“But if you leave me quiet, (as well, methinks, you may)
“Your lands will fare the better; and on a future day
“With your own goods or others perhaps I may repay.”—
“Cid, you may fairly boast, you're safe upon that head;
“For this year and the next my score is fully paid;
“And as for coming after you let nothing more be said.”
The Count went crowding on his pace, and looking fast behind
418
The Cid might change his purpose. He little knew the Cid;
That would have been a treason,—a thing he never did;
He never would have done so base an act—not even
To purchase all the gold and treasure under heaven.
III.
ARGUMENT.
The Cid—after various successes, having won the city of Valencia, and having overthrown the king of Seville (who was sent with 30,000 men to besiege him) in the battle of Villa Nueva, in which every footsoldier shared 100 marks of silver—fearing lest his people who were now rich should return to their own country, took counsel with Alvar Fanez and others, when Minaya advised that proclamation should be made that no man should leave the city without permission of the Cid, on pain of losing all he had and being impaled. With this view the Cid orders an account to be taken of all his vassals, sends Alvar Fanez and Martin Antolinez with presents to the king, Don Alphonso, beseeching him to let his wife and daughters join him,—re-makes Valencia into a bishoprick, and makes the pilgrim Don Jerom bishop. The king receives the messengers favourably, and orders that the ladies have a guard to escort them throughout his dominions, and restores the Cid and his followers to favour.
I wish for an account
“Of all my vassals here, their number and amount,
“Their grants of tenements and lands, Minaya, will you look
“To mark their names in writing, and count them in a book—
—“For the service of Valencia this shall be the law—
“If any man shall leave it, to desert us and withdraw,
“He shall resign and vacate his tenure, to divide
“Among my followers here, that in the town abide,
“That watch the city walls, and keep the country side.”
“Of all my vassals here, their number and amount,
“Their grants of tenements and lands, Minaya, will you look
“To mark their names in writing, and count them in a book—
—“For the service of Valencia this shall be the law—
“If any man shall leave it, to desert us and withdraw,
“He shall resign and vacate his tenure, to divide
“Among my followers here, that in the town abide,
“That watch the city walls, and keep the country side.”
Minaya said—“The thing can easily be done.”
He summon'd them to Court, they came there every one;
He wrote their names in order, and made a fair account,
Three thousand and six hundred was the complete amount.
“Thanks be to God, Minaya, the troop was thinner far
“When we rode forth as exiles from my manor at Bivar:
“As we have prosper'd hitherto so shall we prosper still;
“Yet farther, if you like it, and if it suits your will,
“I fain would send you forth for a message into Spain,
“To see my Lord Alphonso my lawful king again.
“A hundred goodly steeds for a present you shall bring,
“A portion of the booty, to present them to the king.
“Then you shall kiss his hands intreating earnestly
“That he will condescend to set my wife and daughters free—
“And for their coming with you, these words shall be the token;
“The words they recollect, that heretofore were spoken:—
“That the Cid's daughters and his wife, upon some future day,
“As rich and mighty dames should ride in proud array
“To meet their worthy father within some foreign land,
“Where he should reign a conqueror in honour and command.”
“I'll do it,” said Minaya, “with all my soul and heart.”
He sets affairs in order preparing to depart,
With a hundred men-at-arms as an escort strong and fair;
And a thousand marks of silver must Alvar Fanez bear
To the Convent of San Pedro, for the good abbot there.
He summon'd them to Court, they came there every one;
He wrote their names in order, and made a fair account,
Three thousand and six hundred was the complete amount.
419
“When we rode forth as exiles from my manor at Bivar:
“As we have prosper'd hitherto so shall we prosper still;
“Yet farther, if you like it, and if it suits your will,
“I fain would send you forth for a message into Spain,
“To see my Lord Alphonso my lawful king again.
“A hundred goodly steeds for a present you shall bring,
“A portion of the booty, to present them to the king.
“Then you shall kiss his hands intreating earnestly
“That he will condescend to set my wife and daughters free—
“And for their coming with you, these words shall be the token;
“The words they recollect, that heretofore were spoken:—
“That the Cid's daughters and his wife, upon some future day,
“As rich and mighty dames should ride in proud array
“To meet their worthy father within some foreign land,
“Where he should reign a conqueror in honour and command.”
“I'll do it,” said Minaya, “with all my soul and heart.”
He sets affairs in order preparing to depart,
With a hundred men-at-arms as an escort strong and fair;
And a thousand marks of silver must Alvar Fanez bear
To the Convent of San Pedro, for the good abbot there.
While thus they were discoursing, and mirth and hope increased
A pilgrim came amongst them, from adventures in the East,
A clerk of holy Church and shaven as a priest:
Don Jerom was his name, a person of discerning,
Courteous and discreet, and famous for his learning;
A worthy man besides, on horseback or on foot,
And thither was he come, for his errand and pursuit
Had been to join the Cid, that he might fight his fill,
Sword-in-hand among the Moors, to cut them down and kill.—
The Cid with his arrival was pleased and satisfied;
He took Minaya Fanez to speak with him aside.
“Hear me, Minaya Fanez! in Heaven's name I say,
“Of all that Heaven has blessed us with, something we must repay:
“And therefore of my conquest this shall be the fruit,
“I'll make a bishop here, and a bishopric to boot;
“And this same good Don Jerom the bishop he shall be.
“Where can we find in all our host a better clerk than he?
“These will be goodly tidings, happy news and fair,
“Reported in Castille at your arrival there.”
Minaya was agreed; the thing was done as said,
And therewithal Don Jerom was a bishop made,
Invested and endow'd with lands and yearly rent;
And, oh! what happy tidings thro' Christendom were sent,
In all the courts of Christendom, and ev'ry town of Spain,
That a bishop in Valencia was appointed once again.
A pilgrim came amongst them, from adventures in the East,
A clerk of holy Church and shaven as a priest:
Don Jerom was his name, a person of discerning,
Courteous and discreet, and famous for his learning;
A worthy man besides, on horseback or on foot,
And thither was he come, for his errand and pursuit
Had been to join the Cid, that he might fight his fill,
Sword-in-hand among the Moors, to cut them down and kill.—
The Cid with his arrival was pleased and satisfied;
He took Minaya Fanez to speak with him aside.
“Hear me, Minaya Fanez! in Heaven's name I say,
“Of all that Heaven has blessed us with, something we must repay:
“And therefore of my conquest this shall be the fruit,
“I'll make a bishop here, and a bishopric to boot;
“And this same good Don Jerom the bishop he shall be.
“Where can we find in all our host a better clerk than he?
“These will be goodly tidings, happy news and fair,
“Reported in Castille at your arrival there.”
420
And therewithal Don Jerom was a bishop made,
Invested and endow'd with lands and yearly rent;
And, oh! what happy tidings thro' Christendom were sent,
In all the courts of Christendom, and ev'ry town of Spain,
That a bishop in Valencia was appointed once again.
Minaya took his leave, and forth in haste he prest
His journey through Valencia; the country was at rest:
As for his other travel, I care not to recite
The stages that he made or where he stopt at night.
He rides inquiring for the king; at last he comes to know,
“The king was at St. Fagunt a little while ago,
“Meaning to go to Carrion so people understood.”
Minaya rode to Carrion, to find him if he could,
Ready with his present in case the king should pass;
And there at once he met him returning from the Mass.
Behold Minaya Fanez, in presence of the crowd,
He knelt before the king and made his moan aloud:—
“The good Cid Ruy Diaz salutes you as is meet,
“As a good vassal to his lord, kissing your hands and feet;
“He is driven from your kingdom, and he has lost your love,
“Be gracious to him, good my Lord, for heaven's sake above;
“Though living as a banish'd man, yet hath he prosper'd well
“Within the Moorish border, such tidings I can tell.
“He has taken towns and lands and castles many a one,
“Xerica and Almenar, Cebola, Casteion;
“He has taken Penna Cadella, the fortress and the hill,
“He has taken Murviedro, which is far better still;
“He is master of Valencia and rules it at his will;
“He has made a bishop of his own, with mitre, ring, and pall;
“He has fought five battles in the field, and conquer'd in them all;
“Great is the wealth and booty that, by the will of heaven,
“The Cid hath purchased in the field, and largely hath he thriven;
“And here I bring your Grace a sample and a token,
“In proof of his allegiance, and that the truth is spoken,—
“A hundred noble coursers, strong and tall and fleet,
“With saddles and caparisons, and all equipments meet;
“He sends his humble present, kissing your Grace's hands,
“And owns himself your vassal in his Lordship and his lands.”
His journey through Valencia; the country was at rest:
As for his other travel, I care not to recite
The stages that he made or where he stopt at night.
He rides inquiring for the king; at last he comes to know,
“The king was at St. Fagunt a little while ago,
“Meaning to go to Carrion so people understood.”
Minaya rode to Carrion, to find him if he could,
Ready with his present in case the king should pass;
And there at once he met him returning from the Mass.
Behold Minaya Fanez, in presence of the crowd,
He knelt before the king and made his moan aloud:—
“The good Cid Ruy Diaz salutes you as is meet,
“As a good vassal to his lord, kissing your hands and feet;
“He is driven from your kingdom, and he has lost your love,
“Be gracious to him, good my Lord, for heaven's sake above;
“Though living as a banish'd man, yet hath he prosper'd well
“Within the Moorish border, such tidings I can tell.
“He has taken towns and lands and castles many a one,
“Xerica and Almenar, Cebola, Casteion;
“He has taken Penna Cadella, the fortress and the hill,
“He has taken Murviedro, which is far better still;
“He is master of Valencia and rules it at his will;
“He has made a bishop of his own, with mitre, ring, and pall;
“He has fought five battles in the field, and conquer'd in them all;
“Great is the wealth and booty that, by the will of heaven,
“The Cid hath purchased in the field, and largely hath he thriven;
“And here I bring your Grace a sample and a token,
“In proof of his allegiance, and that the truth is spoken,—
“A hundred noble coursers, strong and tall and fleet,
“With saddles and caparisons, and all equipments meet;
“He sends his humble present, kissing your Grace's hands,
“And owns himself your vassal in his Lordship and his lands.”
The king lift up his hand, made a cross upon his brow,
The Cid was grown, he thought, to power and wealth enow.
“As heaven shall be my speed, heaven and St. Isidore,
“I like these tidings well from the Cid Campeador,
“And I receive his present and thank him furthermore.”
But the Count Garci Ordonnez, at his heart's inmost core,
The more the king was satisfied, was envious and sore.
“If the Cid conquers at this rate, if all is true that's said,
“What has become of all the Moors? the people must be dead.”
The king said, “Hold your peace, and make no more ado;
“The Cid has serv'd me more and better far than you.”
With that Minaya Fanez made a manly speech:—
“The Cid entreats your favour and fain he would beseech
“Your warrant and your licence (if so your Grace should please),
“As for his wife and daughters to grant them their release,—
“To take them from the convent whereat they now remain,
“And bring them to Valencia, to see them once again.”
421
“As heaven shall be my speed, heaven and St. Isidore,
“I like these tidings well from the Cid Campeador,
“And I receive his present and thank him furthermore.”
But the Count Garci Ordonnez, at his heart's inmost core,
The more the king was satisfied, was envious and sore.
“If the Cid conquers at this rate, if all is true that's said,
“What has become of all the Moors? the people must be dead.”
The king said, “Hold your peace, and make no more ado;
“The Cid has serv'd me more and better far than you.”
With that Minaya Fanez made a manly speech:—
“The Cid entreats your favour and fain he would beseech
“Your warrant and your licence (if so your Grace should please),
“As for his wife and daughters to grant them their release,—
“To take them from the convent whereat they now remain,
“And bring them to Valencia, to see them once again.”
“It pleases me right well,” the noble king replied:
“A convoy they shall have, where'er they pass or ride,
“To defend them from dishonour or offence that may betide
“In all my country's bounds, up to the border's side:
“But when they pass the border the charge will rest with you,
“To attend them and protect them, as is their right and due.
“—Ye knights and nobles of the court, my vassals, hear ye me!
“Henceforth shall Ruy Diaz stand unimpeach'd and free;
“I quit him from all forfeiture and other detriment,
“And for his followers that have lost their heritage and rent
“In favour of the Cid I grant it back again,
“To enable them to serve him there in his new domain.”
Minaya kissed his hand, and thank'd him for his grace.
Then spoke the noble king, with his smiling, manly face,
“Whichever of my vassals is minded to resort
“To Valencia with the Cid may freely leave the court;
“And he shall hold his lands unforfeited and free;
“And I shall own his service as a vassalage to me.”
“A convoy they shall have, where'er they pass or ride,
“To defend them from dishonour or offence that may betide
“In all my country's bounds, up to the border's side:
“But when they pass the border the charge will rest with you,
“To attend them and protect them, as is their right and due.
“—Ye knights and nobles of the court, my vassals, hear ye me!
“Henceforth shall Ruy Diaz stand unimpeach'd and free;
“I quit him from all forfeiture and other detriment,
“And for his followers that have lost their heritage and rent
“In favour of the Cid I grant it back again,
“To enable them to serve him there in his new domain.”
Minaya kissed his hand, and thank'd him for his grace.
Then spoke the noble king, with his smiling, manly face,
“Whichever of my vassals is minded to resort
“To Valencia with the Cid may freely leave the court;
“And he shall hold his lands unforfeited and free;
“And I shall own his service as a vassalage to me.”
422
IV.
ARGUMENT.
Alvar Fanez and Martin Antolinez, having taken leave of the King, go to the monastery of St. Pedro de Cardena, where Dona Ximena and her daughters were, and bring them to within three leagues of Valencia, where they are met by the Cid on his famous horse Babieca. He runs a career with him, and at the end of the course, alighting, goes towards his wife and daughters. Donna Ximena kneels to receive him; he conducts them into Valencia, where they are received with great rejoicings. In the spring, Yusef, King of Morocco, sends an army against Valencia. The Cid shows his wife and daughters the Moors landing, and entering the gardens round the city. Alvar Salvadores makes a sally, and drives the Moors back to their tents, but is himself taken prisoner. Next day, after early mass by the Bishop Don Jerom, who obtained the boon of being first in the battle, the Cid attacks the Moors, who are utterly routed, and wounds King Yusef, who escapes him. On his return to the city, the Cid declares his intention of giving the ladies attendant on his wife and daughters in marriage to his vassals, with a dowry out of the plunder of two hundred marks of silver to each of them. The King of Morocco's tent he reserves for the King Don Alphonso, and, in addition to his share of the booty, gives a tithe of his own fifth to the Bishop Don Jerom.
She knelt before the Cid there in the people's sight:
“Cid, in a lucky hour were you girded as a knight;
“Full often have you rescued me from injury and wrong:
“And now, sir, with Heaven's blessing, here I have brought along,
“To glad you with their presence, your own dear daughters both,
“Reared in noble nurture and of good health and growth.”
The Cid embraced them all with pleasure and surprize;
The tears for very joy were streaming from their eyes.
Then spake the noble Cid the words that you shall hear:
“Beloved and honoured woman, and you, my children dear,
“The pride and solace of my heart, my darlings, welcome here;
“Come hither to Valencia, the mansion and the land
“That I have purchased for you!” They knelt and kissed his hand.
He took them to the palace in triumph through the town,
He showed them from the tower the prospect looking down,
The city spread below, the cultivated plain,
The garden of Valencia, the paradise of Spain,
Stretching beyond the sight, the mountains and the main
Encompassing it round; they lift their hands and eyes,
To Heaven that had bestowed so fair and rich a prize.
There were pastimes fair enow at the entrance of the town,
Of tourneying and riding and riving targets down,
And hurling darts and snapping spears that it was joy to see,
With songs and instruments among, and mirth and minstrelsy;
The Cid with his companions has kept a noble court,
The while the winter lasted, in solace and disport.
“Cid, in a lucky hour were you girded as a knight;
“Full often have you rescued me from injury and wrong:
“And now, sir, with Heaven's blessing, here I have brought along,
“To glad you with their presence, your own dear daughters both,
“Reared in noble nurture and of good health and growth.”
The Cid embraced them all with pleasure and surprize;
The tears for very joy were streaming from their eyes.
Then spake the noble Cid the words that you shall hear:
“Beloved and honoured woman, and you, my children dear,
“The pride and solace of my heart, my darlings, welcome here;
“Come hither to Valencia, the mansion and the land
423
He took them to the palace in triumph through the town,
He showed them from the tower the prospect looking down,
The city spread below, the cultivated plain,
The garden of Valencia, the paradise of Spain,
Stretching beyond the sight, the mountains and the main
Encompassing it round; they lift their hands and eyes,
To Heaven that had bestowed so fair and rich a prize.
There were pastimes fair enow at the entrance of the town,
Of tourneying and riding and riving targets down,
And hurling darts and snapping spears that it was joy to see,
With songs and instruments among, and mirth and minstrelsy;
The Cid with his companions has kept a noble court,
The while the winter lasted, in solace and disport.
The winter is departed, for March is coming in:
And I must tell you tidings, the tidings that begin
To reach us day by day from parts beyond the sea,
From Africa and Morocco; King Yusef there is he,
Ruling the mighty realm with strength and chivalry.
And the report has reached his ears of all the Cid has done,
Of towns and castles taken and battles fought and won:
The kingdom of Valencia he detains it as his own,
And owns no Lord on earth, but holds from Christ alone.
And I must tell you tidings, the tidings that begin
To reach us day by day from parts beyond the sea,
From Africa and Morocco; King Yusef there is he,
Ruling the mighty realm with strength and chivalry.
And the report has reached his ears of all the Cid has done,
Of towns and castles taken and battles fought and won:
The kingdom of Valencia he detains it as his own,
And owns no Lord on earth, but holds from Christ alone.
This Emperor of Morocco has assembled all his host:
And fifty thousand warriors are encamped upon the coast;
They put themselves on shipboard and shortly cross the main,
They disembark in haste along the coast of Spain,
They move towards Valencia, and encamp upon the plain.
And fifty thousand warriors are encamped upon the coast;
They put themselves on shipboard and shortly cross the main,
They disembark in haste along the coast of Spain,
They move towards Valencia, and encamp upon the plain.
The Cid has seen and heard it:—“I thank the Lord above!
“All upon earth that I possess, with all the things I love,
“Are here assembled round me, my children and my wife,
“And this my goodly conquest atchieved with toil and strife,
“I never mean to leave it while I retain my life.”—
—“But sure this Emp'ror, like a courteous gentle knight,
“Has sent us out a pageant for our pastime and delight,
“That I may bear a part in, in my wife and daughters' sight,
“And attire myself for battle and enter in the fight;
“That they may see with their own eyes the life we long have led,
“In daily combat with the Moors, earning our daily bread.”
He took the ladies up on high to the tower of the Alcazar,
They saw the Moorish camp in all the pride of war,
The banners and pavilions stretching wide and far.
“Cid,—for mercy's sake! what upon earth is this?”
—“Nothing at all, my worthy dame—nothing that comes amiss.
“The Moors are arrived to greet you, their courtesy to pay,
“With a present for your daughters against their wedding-day:
“Remain, then, in the palace, or here in the Alcazar,
“And never feel alarm'd if you see me join the war,
“By the blessing of the Lord and of St. Mary bright
“We shall prosper once again and conquer in the fight,
“And with your presence here, and, combatting in your sight,
“My heart feels larger than before—joyous, alert, and light.”
“All upon earth that I possess, with all the things I love,
“Are here assembled round me, my children and my wife,
“And this my goodly conquest atchieved with toil and strife,
“I never mean to leave it while I retain my life.”—
—“But sure this Emp'ror, like a courteous gentle knight,
“Has sent us out a pageant for our pastime and delight,
“That I may bear a part in, in my wife and daughters' sight,
“And attire myself for battle and enter in the fight;
“That they may see with their own eyes the life we long have led,
“In daily combat with the Moors, earning our daily bread.”
He took the ladies up on high to the tower of the Alcazar,
424
The banners and pavilions stretching wide and far.
“Cid,—for mercy's sake! what upon earth is this?”
—“Nothing at all, my worthy dame—nothing that comes amiss.
“The Moors are arrived to greet you, their courtesy to pay,
“With a present for your daughters against their wedding-day:
“Remain, then, in the palace, or here in the Alcazar,
“And never feel alarm'd if you see me join the war,
“By the blessing of the Lord and of St. Mary bright
“We shall prosper once again and conquer in the fight,
“And with your presence here, and, combatting in your sight,
“My heart feels larger than before—joyous, alert, and light.”
Now from the Moorish host, with the first dawn of day,
Their heavy drums began to thunder and to bray:
The Cid was joyous at the sounds—“there comes a noble day!”
The ladies all are trembling with terror and dismay:
The Cid looked smiling on them with his hand upon his beard,
“Courage, noble ladies, there is nothing to be fear'd;
“The drums there that are making the noises that are heard,
“You shall have them brought before you, within a fortnight space,
“To view their shape and make here in this very place:
“We shall dispose them afterwards as the bishop may desire,
“To remain for a memorial in the cathedral quire;
“It is a vow recorded—a vow the Cid has made,
“To present them for an offering, and it must needs be paid:”
Thus has he cheer'd the ladies, they felt no more afraid.
Their heavy drums began to thunder and to bray:
The Cid was joyous at the sounds—“there comes a noble day!”
The ladies all are trembling with terror and dismay:
The Cid looked smiling on them with his hand upon his beard,
“Courage, noble ladies, there is nothing to be fear'd;
“The drums there that are making the noises that are heard,
“You shall have them brought before you, within a fortnight space,
“To view their shape and make here in this very place:
“We shall dispose them afterwards as the bishop may desire,
“To remain for a memorial in the cathedral quire;
“It is a vow recorded—a vow the Cid has made,
“To present them for an offering, and it must needs be paid:”
Thus has he cheer'd the ladies, they felt no more afraid.
The Moorish cavaliers are advancing without fear,
They enter in the Huerta and approach the city near:
The watchman in the barbican has smitten on the bell,
The Christians are assembled, armed and accoutred well,
They sally forth in order with an eager fierce attack—
The Moors are broken with the shock, routed and driven back.
In the charge and the pursuit five hundred Moors were slain,
The Christians follow them in haste to the tents upon the plain,
But by their own mischance, ere they returned again,
Alvar Salvador was left a prisoner to remain;
The rest are all return'd that dine at the Cid's board.
The adventures of the day they report them to their Lord:
The Cid has seen and heard it—he spake a merry word:
“Gentlemen, for this day's work our chance has not been ill,
“To-morrow with God's blessing we shall do better still;
“Our Bishop, good Don Jerom, an early mass shall say
“And give us absolution before the dawn of day.
“Then we shall sally forth and assault them in the names
“Of the Lord and his Apostle our worthy good St. James.”
There was an answer all at once, one answer from the whole:
“With all our hearts,” the knights replied, “with all our hearts and soul.
Minaya was in haste, and thus he spake his mind:
“Cid, since you so determine, leave six more men behind;
“Go forward with the rest, and let the battle join,
“And God will send us succour on your side or on mine.
“Let it be so!” the Cid replied. The night was coming on.
The Christians all were armed betimes, accoutred every one.
At the second cock-crow, before the dawn of day,
The Bishop Don Jeronimo was ready mass to say.
He sang the mass full solemnly in the cathedral quire,
And gave them absolution, perfect and entire.
“He that falls in battle, his face against the foe,
“I make him clean of all his sins his soul to heaven shall go.
“And now, right worthy Cid, for the mass that has been chanted,
“I shall require a boon and it must needs be granted.
—“The foremost place in battle and the first stroke of the fight.”
“Let it be yours,” the Cid replied, “it is a claim of right.”
They sally forth, arm'd and equipp'd, beyond the city wall:
The Cid is there amongst them, to arrange and order all:
Babieca, his good courser, bearing him gallantly
Arm'd and attired for battle, a goodly sight to see!
A guard is left to keep the gates, men of high trust and worth:
And now beyond the gates the banner is borne forth;
Thirty less four thousand was the number at the most
To encounter fifty thousand, such was the Moorish host.
They rush upon them all at once, without a thought of fear:
Minaya chose his time to charge the flank and rear.
The Moors with sudden onset, such was the will of Heaven,
Were broken and confused, and wide asunder driven:
The Cid with his spear in hand and sword so sharp and good,
From the elbow to the point dripping down with blood,
The number that he slew was never understood.
He singled out King Yusef; the King durst not abide
So fearful an assault, but fast away 'gan ride
To the castle of Guyera, a palace fortified:
There was he safely lodged; but till he reach'd the place,
The Cid was foremost in pursuit, nor ever left the chace.
Now with his followers he returns, rejoiced and satisfied:—
He has gain'd a mighty booty, he has check'd the Moorish pride;
And his courser, Babieca, has been fully proved and tried.
The plunder of the camp was plentiful and great—
Coin of gold and silver, and gold and silver plate,
And other riches more than they could estimate.
The Cid has left Minaya to take a just account,
Returning to Valencia before he would dismount;
An hundred knights were with him, he rode an easy pace,
Armed as he was before, all but his head and face.
There might his countenance be seen furrow'd with a frown—
Sword-in-hand, upon his steed he enter'd in the town.
He has rein'd him up before the porch, there, where the ladies stood
Ready to receive him. He spoke in merry mood:
“Welcome, welcome, ladies! we have purchased great renown—
“I have conquer'd in the field—and you have kept the town.
“It shows the will of Heaven, that it hath pleased to bless
“Your first arrival here with victory and success.
“You see my courser reeking, my sword with slaughter red—
“Such is the fashion among knights when Moors are slain and fled.
“Pray God to spare my life for two years or for three,
“Then gentlemen and knights shall salute you on their knee.”
These words the Cid has spoken before he lighted down—
His daughters with their ladies, his dame of high renown,
Bent the knee before him and kiss'd his hand with tears—
“We live, sir, in your favour,—may you live these many years!”
Then passing onward from the porch, to the rich hall he goes,
Sitting amongst them, for a while, in silence and repose—
“Hoh! Donna Ximena, my wife, it is a scheme of mine—
“You never mention'd it yourself, but this is my design—
“The ladies, your attendants, that have been brought to stay,
“I mean to marry them forthwith to the vassals in my pay,
“And to give each two hundred marks upon their wedding-day.
“They have served a noble lady, folks in Castille will say—
—“The marriage of our daughters for the present we delay.”
They rose and kiss'd his hand; so, from the first report,
Till the Cid's promise was fulfill'd, great was the mirth and sport,
The gladness and rejoicing in the camp and in the court.
Minaya still was in the camp, busied all the day,
Reckoning and writing, and assorting all the prey,
And dealing with the shares of plunder and of pay.
The whole amount of wealth was more than I can say:
The tents and the pavilions, armour and rich array,
And horses without number running wide astray;
Many became a prize to the native peasants round,
Yet, for the fifth part of the whole, there were fifteen hundred found
(The Cid's own proper portion) horses strong and sound.
The rest with their allotments were joyous and content,
From many a proud pavilion and many a costly tent,
Enriched with silken hangings and golden ornament.
The great imperial tent, that in the centre stood,
It rested on two pillars of gold and sandal wood;
It is ordered to be left untouch'd, perfect and entire.
“I mean it as a present for our own Lord and sire;
“When the King receives it no courtier will refuse
“To credit our successes or cavil at the news.”
Now to Valencia they return with a store of wealth in hold.
The Bishop Don Jeronimo, like a worthy priest and bold,
Was fairly wearied out and glutted with delight,
With a sword in either hand striking to left and right,
No man could reckon up or guess the numbers he had slain;
For his own portion he received the largest share of gain.
The Cid from his own fifth presented him the tithe—
Thus all were joyous in the town confident and blythe.
They enter in the Huerta and approach the city near:
The watchman in the barbican has smitten on the bell,
The Christians are assembled, armed and accoutred well,
They sally forth in order with an eager fierce attack—
The Moors are broken with the shock, routed and driven back.
In the charge and the pursuit five hundred Moors were slain,
The Christians follow them in haste to the tents upon the plain,
But by their own mischance, ere they returned again,
Alvar Salvador was left a prisoner to remain;
The rest are all return'd that dine at the Cid's board.
The adventures of the day they report them to their Lord:
The Cid has seen and heard it—he spake a merry word:
“Gentlemen, for this day's work our chance has not been ill,
“To-morrow with God's blessing we shall do better still;
425
“And give us absolution before the dawn of day.
“Then we shall sally forth and assault them in the names
“Of the Lord and his Apostle our worthy good St. James.”
There was an answer all at once, one answer from the whole:
“With all our hearts,” the knights replied, “with all our hearts and soul.
Minaya was in haste, and thus he spake his mind:
“Cid, since you so determine, leave six more men behind;
“Go forward with the rest, and let the battle join,
“And God will send us succour on your side or on mine.
“Let it be so!” the Cid replied. The night was coming on.
The Christians all were armed betimes, accoutred every one.
At the second cock-crow, before the dawn of day,
The Bishop Don Jeronimo was ready mass to say.
He sang the mass full solemnly in the cathedral quire,
And gave them absolution, perfect and entire.
“He that falls in battle, his face against the foe,
“I make him clean of all his sins his soul to heaven shall go.
“And now, right worthy Cid, for the mass that has been chanted,
“I shall require a boon and it must needs be granted.
—“The foremost place in battle and the first stroke of the fight.”
“Let it be yours,” the Cid replied, “it is a claim of right.”
They sally forth, arm'd and equipp'd, beyond the city wall:
The Cid is there amongst them, to arrange and order all:
Babieca, his good courser, bearing him gallantly
Arm'd and attired for battle, a goodly sight to see!
A guard is left to keep the gates, men of high trust and worth:
And now beyond the gates the banner is borne forth;
Thirty less four thousand was the number at the most
To encounter fifty thousand, such was the Moorish host.
They rush upon them all at once, without a thought of fear:
Minaya chose his time to charge the flank and rear.
The Moors with sudden onset, such was the will of Heaven,
Were broken and confused, and wide asunder driven:
The Cid with his spear in hand and sword so sharp and good,
From the elbow to the point dripping down with blood,
The number that he slew was never understood.
He singled out King Yusef; the King durst not abide
So fearful an assault, but fast away 'gan ride
To the castle of Guyera, a palace fortified:
426
The Cid was foremost in pursuit, nor ever left the chace.
Now with his followers he returns, rejoiced and satisfied:—
He has gain'd a mighty booty, he has check'd the Moorish pride;
And his courser, Babieca, has been fully proved and tried.
The plunder of the camp was plentiful and great—
Coin of gold and silver, and gold and silver plate,
And other riches more than they could estimate.
The Cid has left Minaya to take a just account,
Returning to Valencia before he would dismount;
An hundred knights were with him, he rode an easy pace,
Armed as he was before, all but his head and face.
There might his countenance be seen furrow'd with a frown—
Sword-in-hand, upon his steed he enter'd in the town.
He has rein'd him up before the porch, there, where the ladies stood
Ready to receive him. He spoke in merry mood:
“Welcome, welcome, ladies! we have purchased great renown—
“I have conquer'd in the field—and you have kept the town.
“It shows the will of Heaven, that it hath pleased to bless
“Your first arrival here with victory and success.
“You see my courser reeking, my sword with slaughter red—
“Such is the fashion among knights when Moors are slain and fled.
“Pray God to spare my life for two years or for three,
“Then gentlemen and knights shall salute you on their knee.”
These words the Cid has spoken before he lighted down—
His daughters with their ladies, his dame of high renown,
Bent the knee before him and kiss'd his hand with tears—
“We live, sir, in your favour,—may you live these many years!”
Then passing onward from the porch, to the rich hall he goes,
Sitting amongst them, for a while, in silence and repose—
“Hoh! Donna Ximena, my wife, it is a scheme of mine—
“You never mention'd it yourself, but this is my design—
“The ladies, your attendants, that have been brought to stay,
“I mean to marry them forthwith to the vassals in my pay,
“And to give each two hundred marks upon their wedding-day.
“They have served a noble lady, folks in Castille will say—
—“The marriage of our daughters for the present we delay.”
They rose and kiss'd his hand; so, from the first report,
Till the Cid's promise was fulfill'd, great was the mirth and sport,
427
Minaya still was in the camp, busied all the day,
Reckoning and writing, and assorting all the prey,
And dealing with the shares of plunder and of pay.
The whole amount of wealth was more than I can say:
The tents and the pavilions, armour and rich array,
And horses without number running wide astray;
Many became a prize to the native peasants round,
Yet, for the fifth part of the whole, there were fifteen hundred found
(The Cid's own proper portion) horses strong and sound.
The rest with their allotments were joyous and content,
From many a proud pavilion and many a costly tent,
Enriched with silken hangings and golden ornament.
The great imperial tent, that in the centre stood,
It rested on two pillars of gold and sandal wood;
It is ordered to be left untouch'd, perfect and entire.
“I mean it as a present for our own Lord and sire;
“When the King receives it no courtier will refuse
“To credit our successes or cavil at the news.”
Now to Valencia they return with a store of wealth in hold.
The Bishop Don Jeronimo, like a worthy priest and bold,
Was fairly wearied out and glutted with delight,
With a sword in either hand striking to left and right,
No man could reckon up or guess the numbers he had slain;
For his own portion he received the largest share of gain.
The Cid from his own fifth presented him the tithe—
Thus all were joyous in the town confident and blythe.
V.
ARGUMENT.
After the route of King Yusef and his army, the Cid sends Alvar
Fanez and Pero Bermudez with King Yusef's tent and a present of
two hundred horses to King Alfonso, because the king had sent his
wife and daughters when he asked for them, and because of the honour
which he had done them. The king, when he saw the present, said
that never had so goodly a present been sent before to a king of Spain
by his vassals, and desired Alvar Fanez and Pero Bermudez, when
they took their leave, to tell the Cid that he had a great desire to see
him. The meeting was appointed upon the Tagus. When it took
place, the king, at the previous instigation of the Infants (whose family
were his old adversaries) asked the Cid to give his daughters in marriage
to the Infants of Carrion. The Cid in reply consents to place
his daughters “at the disposition of the King.” The wedding is celebrated
at Valencia with the greatest possible splendour, and the two
young Counts remain at Valencia with their father-in-law: their
situation, however, is an invidious one; some occasions arise in which
their courage appears doubtful, and the prudence and authority of the
Cid are found insufficient to suppress the contemptuous mirth of his
military court. Accordingly they enter into the resolution of leaving
Valencia, but determining at the same time to execute a project of the
basest and most unmanly revenge, they request of the Cid to be allowed
to take their brides with them upon a journey to Carrion, under pretence
of making them acquainted with the property which had been
settled upon them at their marriage. The Cid is aware that their
situation is an uneasy one; he readily consents, takes leave of them with
great cordiality, loads them with presents, and at their departure bestows
upon them the two celebrated swords, Colada and Tison. The
Infants pursue their journey till they arrive in a wilderness, where
they dismiss their followers, and being left alone with their brides,
proceed to execute their scheme of vengeance by stripping them and
“mangling them with spurs and thongs,” till they leave them without
signs of life: in this state they are found by a relation of the Cid's,
Felez Munioz, who, suspecting some evil design, had followed them at a
distance. They are brought back to Valencia. The Cid demands
justice. The King assembles the Cortes upon the occasion. The Cid,
being called upon to state his grievances, confines himself to the claim of
the two swords which he had given to his sons-in-law, and which he
now demands back since they have forfeited their character. The
swords are restored without hesitation, and the Cid immediately
bestows them upon two of his champions. He then rises again, and
upon the same plea requires the restitution of the gifts and treasures
with which he had honoured his sons-in-law at parting. This claim
is resisted by his opponents: the Cortes, however, decide in favour of
the Cid, and as the Infants plead their immediate inability, it is determined
that the property which they have with them shall be taken at
an appraisement. This is accordingly done. The Cid then rises a
third time, and demands satisfaction for the insult which his
daughters had suffered: an altercation arises, in the course of which
428
429
Within a little space
There was many a noble courser brought into the place,
Many a lusty mule with palfreys stout and sure,
And many a goodly sword with all its furniture.
The Cid received them all at an appraisement made,
Besides two hundred marks that to the King were paid:
The Infants give up all they have, their goods are at an end,
They go about in haste to their kindred and their friend;
They borrow as they can, but all will scarce suffice;
The attendants of the Cid take each thing at a price:
But as soon as this was ended, he began a new device.
“Justice and mercy, my Lord the King, I beseech you of your grace!
“I have yet a grievance left behind which nothing can efface.
“Let all men present in the court attend and judge the case,
“Listen to what these Counts have done and pity my disgrace.
“Dishonour'd as I am, I cannot be so base,
“But here, before I leave them, to defy them to their face.
“Say, Infants, how had I deserved, in earnest or in jest,
“Or on whatever plea you can defend it best,
“That you should rend and tear the heartstrings from my breast?
“I gave you at Valencia my daughters in your hand,
“I gave you wealth and honours and treasure at command;
“Had you been weary of them, to cover your neglect,
“You might have left them with me in honour and respect.
“Why did you take them from me, dogs and traitors as you were?
“In the forest of Corpes, why did you strip them there
“Why did you mangle them with whips? why did you leave them bare
“To the vultures and the wolves, and to the wintry air?
“The court will hear your answer and judge what you have done.
“I say, your name and honour henceforth are lost and gone.”
There was many a noble courser brought into the place,
Many a lusty mule with palfreys stout and sure,
And many a goodly sword with all its furniture.
The Cid received them all at an appraisement made,
Besides two hundred marks that to the King were paid:
The Infants give up all they have, their goods are at an end,
They go about in haste to their kindred and their friend;
They borrow as they can, but all will scarce suffice;
The attendants of the Cid take each thing at a price:
But as soon as this was ended, he began a new device.
“Justice and mercy, my Lord the King, I beseech you of your grace!
“I have yet a grievance left behind which nothing can efface.
“Let all men present in the court attend and judge the case,
“Listen to what these Counts have done and pity my disgrace.
“Dishonour'd as I am, I cannot be so base,
“But here, before I leave them, to defy them to their face.
“Say, Infants, how had I deserved, in earnest or in jest,
“Or on whatever plea you can defend it best,
“That you should rend and tear the heartstrings from my breast?
“I gave you at Valencia my daughters in your hand,
“I gave you wealth and honours and treasure at command;
“Had you been weary of them, to cover your neglect,
“You might have left them with me in honour and respect.
“Why did you take them from me, dogs and traitors as you were?
“In the forest of Corpes, why did you strip them there
“Why did you mangle them with whips? why did you leave them bare
“To the vultures and the wolves, and to the wintry air?
“The court will hear your answer and judge what you have done.
“I say, your name and honour henceforth are lost and gone.”
The Count Don Garcia was the first to rise:
“We crave your favour, my Lord the King, you are always just and wise;
“The Cid is come to your Court in such an uncouth guise,
“He has left his beard to grow and tied it in a braid,
“We are half of us astonish'd, the other half afraid.
“The blood of the Counts of Carrion is of too high a line
“To take a daughter from his house, though it were for a concubine.
“A concubine or a leman from the lineage of the Cid,
“They could have done no other than leave them as they did.
“We neither care for what he says nor fear what he may threat.”
With that the noble Cid rose up from his seat:
He took his beard in his hand, “If this beard is fair and even,
“I must thank the Lord above, who made both earth and heaven;
“It has been cherish'd with respect and therefore it has thriven:
“It never suffered an affront since the day it first was worn.
“What business, Count, have you to speak of it with scorn?
“It never yet was shaken, nor pluck'd away nor torn,
“By Christian nor by Moor, nor by man of woman born,
“As yours was once, Sir Count, the day Cabra was taken;
“When I was master of Cabra that beard of yours was shaken;
“There was never a footboy in my camp but twitch'd away a bit:
“The side that I tore off grows all uneven yet.”
Ferran Gonzales started upon the floor,
He cried with a loud voice, “Cid, let us hear no more,
“Your claim for goods and money was satisfied before:
“Let not a feud arise betwixt our friends and you,
“We are the Counts of Carrion, from them our birth we drew.
“Daughters of Emperors or Kings were a match for our degree,
“We hold ourselves too good for a baron's such as thee.
“If we abandon'd, as you say, and left and gave them o'er,
“We vouch that we did right, and prize ourselves the more.”
The Cid look'd at Bermuez, that was sitting at his foot;
“Speak thou, Peter the Dumb, what ails thee to sit mute?
“My daughters and thy nieces are the parties in dispute.
“Stand forth and make reply, if you would do them right.
“If I should rise to speak, you cannot hope to fight.”
Peter Bermuez rose, somewhat he had to say,
The words were strangled in his throat, they could not find their way;
Till forth they came at once, without a stop or stay:
“Cid, I'll tell you what, this always is your way,
“You have always served me thus, whenever we have come
“To meet here in the Cortes, you call me Peter the Dumb.
“I cannot help my nature; I never talk nor rail;
“But when a thing is to be done, you know I never fail.
“Fernando, you have lied, you have lied in every word:
“You have been honour'd by the Cid, and favour'd and preferr'd.
“I know of all your tricks, and can tell them to your face:
“Do you remember in Valencia the skirmish and the chase?
“You ask'd leave of the Cid to make the first attack:
“You went to meet a Moor, but you soon came running back.
“I met the Moor and kill'd him, or he would have kill'd you;
“I gave you up his arms, and all that was my due.
“Up to this very hour I never said a word.
“You praised yourself before the Cid, and I stood by and heard,
“How you had kill'd the Moor, and done a valiant act,
“And they believed you all, but they never knew the fact.
“You are tall enough and handsome, but cowardly and weak.
“Thou tongue without a hand, how can you dare to speak?
“There's the story of the lion should never be forgot.
“Now let us hear, Fernando, what answer have you got?
“The Cid was sleeping in his chair, with all his knights around,
“The cry went forth along the hall, that the lion was unbound,—
“What did you do, Fernando? like a coward as you were,
“You slunk behind the Cid, and crouch'd beneath his chair.
“We prest around the throne to shield our Lord from harm,
“Till the good Cid awoke; he rose without alarm;
“He went to meet the lion with his mantle on his arm;
“The lion was abash'd the noble Cid to meet,
“He bow'd his mane to the earth, his muzzle at his feet.
“The Cid by the neck and mane drew him to his den,
“He thrust him in at the hatch, and came to the hall again:
“He found his knights, his vassals, and all his valiant men;
“He ask'd for his sons-in-law, they were neither of them there.
“I defy you for a coward and a traitor as you are;
“For the daughters of the Cid you have done them great unright,
“In the wrong that they have suffer'd you stand dishonour'd quite.
“Although they are but women, and each of you a knight,
“I hold them worthier far; and here my word I plight,
“Before the King Alfonso, upon this plea to fight.
“If it be God his will, before the battle part,
“Thou shalt avow it with thy mouth, like a traitor as thou art.”
Uprose Diego Gonzales and answer'd as he stood:
“By our lineage we are Counts, and of the purest blood;
“This match was too unequal, it never could hold good;
“For the daughters of the Cid we acknowledge no regret,
“We leave them to lament the chastisement they met.
“It will follow them through life for a scandal and a jest.
“I stand upon this plea to combat with the best,
“That having left them as we did, our honour is increased.”
Uprose Martin Antolinez when Diego ceased:
“Peace, thou lying mouth! thou traitor coward, Peace!
“The story of the lion should have taught you shame at least:
“You rush'd out at the door, and ran away so hard,
“You fell into the cesspool that was open in the yard.
“We dragg'd you forth in all men's sight, dripping from the drain;
“For shame, never wear a mantle, nor a knightly robe again!
“I fight upon this plea without more ado;
“The daughters of the Cid are worthier far than you.
“Before the combat part you shall avow it true,
“And that you have been a traitor and a coward too.”
Thus was ended the parley and challenge betwixt these two.
Assur Gonzales was entering at the door
With his ermine mantle trailing along the floor;
With his sauntering pace and his hardy look,
Of manners or of courtesy little heed he took:
He was flush'd and hot with breakfast and with drink.
“What ho, my masters, your spirits seem to sink!
“Have we no news stirring from the Cid Ruy Diaz of Bivar?
“Has he been to Riodivirna to besiege the windmills there?
“Does he tax the millers for their toll, or is that practice past?
“Will he make a match for his daughters another like the last?”
Munio Gustioz rose and made reply:
“Traitor! wilt thou never cease to slander and to lie?
“You breakfast before mass, you drink before you pray:
“There is no honour in your heart, nor truth in what you say;
“You cheat your comrade and your Lord, you flatter to betray:
“Your hatred I despise, your friendship I defy.
“False to all mankind, and most to God on high.
“I shall force you to confess that what I say is true.”
Thus was ended the parley and challenge betwixt these two.
“We crave your favour, my Lord the King, you are always just and wise;
“The Cid is come to your Court in such an uncouth guise,
430
“We are half of us astonish'd, the other half afraid.
“The blood of the Counts of Carrion is of too high a line
“To take a daughter from his house, though it were for a concubine.
“A concubine or a leman from the lineage of the Cid,
“They could have done no other than leave them as they did.
“We neither care for what he says nor fear what he may threat.”
With that the noble Cid rose up from his seat:
He took his beard in his hand, “If this beard is fair and even,
“I must thank the Lord above, who made both earth and heaven;
“It has been cherish'd with respect and therefore it has thriven:
“It never suffered an affront since the day it first was worn.
“What business, Count, have you to speak of it with scorn?
“It never yet was shaken, nor pluck'd away nor torn,
“By Christian nor by Moor, nor by man of woman born,
“As yours was once, Sir Count, the day Cabra was taken;
“When I was master of Cabra that beard of yours was shaken;
“There was never a footboy in my camp but twitch'd away a bit:
“The side that I tore off grows all uneven yet.”
Ferran Gonzales started upon the floor,
He cried with a loud voice, “Cid, let us hear no more,
“Your claim for goods and money was satisfied before:
“Let not a feud arise betwixt our friends and you,
“We are the Counts of Carrion, from them our birth we drew.
“Daughters of Emperors or Kings were a match for our degree,
“We hold ourselves too good for a baron's such as thee.
“If we abandon'd, as you say, and left and gave them o'er,
“We vouch that we did right, and prize ourselves the more.”
The Cid look'd at Bermuez, that was sitting at his foot;
“Speak thou, Peter the Dumb, what ails thee to sit mute?
“My daughters and thy nieces are the parties in dispute.
“Stand forth and make reply, if you would do them right.
“If I should rise to speak, you cannot hope to fight.”
Peter Bermuez rose, somewhat he had to say,
The words were strangled in his throat, they could not find their way;
Till forth they came at once, without a stop or stay:
“Cid, I'll tell you what, this always is your way,
“You have always served me thus, whenever we have come
431
“I cannot help my nature; I never talk nor rail;
“But when a thing is to be done, you know I never fail.
“Fernando, you have lied, you have lied in every word:
“You have been honour'd by the Cid, and favour'd and preferr'd.
“I know of all your tricks, and can tell them to your face:
“Do you remember in Valencia the skirmish and the chase?
“You ask'd leave of the Cid to make the first attack:
“You went to meet a Moor, but you soon came running back.
“I met the Moor and kill'd him, or he would have kill'd you;
“I gave you up his arms, and all that was my due.
“Up to this very hour I never said a word.
“You praised yourself before the Cid, and I stood by and heard,
“How you had kill'd the Moor, and done a valiant act,
“And they believed you all, but they never knew the fact.
“You are tall enough and handsome, but cowardly and weak.
“Thou tongue without a hand, how can you dare to speak?
“There's the story of the lion should never be forgot.
“Now let us hear, Fernando, what answer have you got?
“The Cid was sleeping in his chair, with all his knights around,
“The cry went forth along the hall, that the lion was unbound,—
“What did you do, Fernando? like a coward as you were,
“You slunk behind the Cid, and crouch'd beneath his chair.
“We prest around the throne to shield our Lord from harm,
“Till the good Cid awoke; he rose without alarm;
“He went to meet the lion with his mantle on his arm;
“The lion was abash'd the noble Cid to meet,
“He bow'd his mane to the earth, his muzzle at his feet.
“The Cid by the neck and mane drew him to his den,
“He thrust him in at the hatch, and came to the hall again:
“He found his knights, his vassals, and all his valiant men;
“He ask'd for his sons-in-law, they were neither of them there.
“I defy you for a coward and a traitor as you are;
“For the daughters of the Cid you have done them great unright,
“In the wrong that they have suffer'd you stand dishonour'd quite.
“Although they are but women, and each of you a knight,
“I hold them worthier far; and here my word I plight,
“Before the King Alfonso, upon this plea to fight.
“If it be God his will, before the battle part,
432
Uprose Diego Gonzales and answer'd as he stood:
“By our lineage we are Counts, and of the purest blood;
“This match was too unequal, it never could hold good;
“For the daughters of the Cid we acknowledge no regret,
“We leave them to lament the chastisement they met.
“It will follow them through life for a scandal and a jest.
“I stand upon this plea to combat with the best,
“That having left them as we did, our honour is increased.”
Uprose Martin Antolinez when Diego ceased:
“Peace, thou lying mouth! thou traitor coward, Peace!
“The story of the lion should have taught you shame at least:
“You rush'd out at the door, and ran away so hard,
“You fell into the cesspool that was open in the yard.
“We dragg'd you forth in all men's sight, dripping from the drain;
“For shame, never wear a mantle, nor a knightly robe again!
“I fight upon this plea without more ado;
“The daughters of the Cid are worthier far than you.
“Before the combat part you shall avow it true,
“And that you have been a traitor and a coward too.”
Thus was ended the parley and challenge betwixt these two.
Assur Gonzales was entering at the door
With his ermine mantle trailing along the floor;
With his sauntering pace and his hardy look,
Of manners or of courtesy little heed he took:
He was flush'd and hot with breakfast and with drink.
“What ho, my masters, your spirits seem to sink!
“Have we no news stirring from the Cid Ruy Diaz of Bivar?
“Has he been to Riodivirna to besiege the windmills there?
“Does he tax the millers for their toll, or is that practice past?
“Will he make a match for his daughters another like the last?”
Munio Gustioz rose and made reply:
“Traitor! wilt thou never cease to slander and to lie?
“You breakfast before mass, you drink before you pray:
“There is no honour in your heart, nor truth in what you say;
“You cheat your comrade and your Lord, you flatter to betray:
“Your hatred I despise, your friendship I defy.
“False to all mankind, and most to God on high.
“I shall force you to confess that what I say is true.”
Thus was ended the parley and challenge betwixt these two.
433
VI.
ARGUMENT.
The King suppresses all further altercation, and declares that those only who have already challenged shall be permitted to fight. The time and place are fixed. The Cid being obliged to return to Valencia, leaves his Champions under the protection of the King. The Cid takes leave of the King. At the end of three weeks the combat is fought, and the three Champions of the Cid are victorious.
I crave your favour, My Lord the King, since things are settled so;
“I have business at Valencia, and thither I must go.
“Before the town was conquer'd it cost me pains enow.”
The King lift up his hand, made a cross upon his brow:
“I swear by St. Isidro, the patron of Leon,
“In all my realm beside there is not such a good baron.”
The Cid leapt on his steed and rode him round the course,
He came up to the King and proffer'd him the horse—
“'Tis the noble Babieca that is famed for speed and force,
“Among the Christians nor the Moors there is not such another one;
“My Sovereign Lord and Sire, he is fit for you alone:
“Give orders to your people, and take him for your own.”
The King replied, “It cannot be; Cid, you shall keep your horse,
“He must not leave his master, nor change him for a worse;
“The man that would take him from you, evil may he speed,
“Our kingdom has been honour'd by you and by your steed.
“A courser such as he is fit for such a knight,
“To beat down Moors in battle, and follow them in flight.”
Now they have taken leave, and broken up the Court,
The Cid goes with his champions to advise them and exhort:
“You, Martin Antolinez, and Pero Bermuez, you,
“And you, Munio Gustioz, be valiant men and true:
“When I am gone to Valencia let me have good tidings there.”
Martin Antolinez replied, “Sir, what needs this care?
“We are pledged in your behalf, we must do our best endeavour;
“You may hear that we are dead, but defeated never.”
The Cid was joyful at the word, and quitted them anon;
He has taken leave of all his friends, and shortly he is gone.
The Cid goes to Valencia, the King to Carrion.
Three weeks had been appointed, and now they are past away,
The champions of the Cid are ready at the day:
They are ready in the field to defend their master's right,
The noble King is with them, to protect them with his might.
They waited in the place for two days and a night,
Behold the Lords of Carrion where they appear in sight:
They are coming with an host of their kindred and their clan,
With horses and with arms, and many a valiant man;
If they could meet with them apart, or take them unaware,
In dishonour of the Cid to have slain his champions there.
The thought was foul and evil, but yet they did not dare,
For fear of the King Alfonso that had them in his care.
That night they watch'd their arms, and past the hours in prayer;
The night is past and over, the day begins to break;
Great was the throng of folk who, for that battle's sake,
Flock'd in on every side, assembled for the fight,
And many a man of arms and many a wealthy knight.
There is the King Alfonso with all his power and might,
To keep down force and wrong, and to defend the right.
The champions of the Cid are all of good accord,
They are arming themselves together, like vassals of one Lord.
The Infants of Carrion are arming themselves apart,
Count Garcia sits advising them, and keeps them in good heart.
They bring a plea before the King, and they pretend a right,
That those two trenchant swords should not be used in fight,
The swords Colada and Tizon, which the Cid's champions wore;
They repent of their imprudence when they gave them up before.
They were earnest in their plea, but they could not succeed;
“You might have kept them for yourselves to serve you in your need;
“If you have other good ones, make use of them instead.
“Infants of Carrion! hear me and take heed:
“You must approve your honour by some manly deed.
“Go forth into the field, and show a valiant heart,
“For nothing will be wanting upon the Champions' part.
“If you are conquerors in the fight you will purchase great renown,
“If you are beaten and disgraced, the fault will be your own,
“For this business was your seeking, as has been seen and shown.”
The Infants of Carrion are beginning to repent;
The Lordship of Carrion with its honours and its rent,
Its mansion and its lands, they would have given all,
Could they command the past, to redeem it and recall.
“I have business at Valencia, and thither I must go.
“Before the town was conquer'd it cost me pains enow.”
The King lift up his hand, made a cross upon his brow:
“I swear by St. Isidro, the patron of Leon,
“In all my realm beside there is not such a good baron.”
The Cid leapt on his steed and rode him round the course,
He came up to the King and proffer'd him the horse—
“'Tis the noble Babieca that is famed for speed and force,
“Among the Christians nor the Moors there is not such another one;
“My Sovereign Lord and Sire, he is fit for you alone:
“Give orders to your people, and take him for your own.”
The King replied, “It cannot be; Cid, you shall keep your horse,
“He must not leave his master, nor change him for a worse;
“The man that would take him from you, evil may he speed,
“Our kingdom has been honour'd by you and by your steed.
“A courser such as he is fit for such a knight,
“To beat down Moors in battle, and follow them in flight.”
Now they have taken leave, and broken up the Court,
The Cid goes with his champions to advise them and exhort:
“You, Martin Antolinez, and Pero Bermuez, you,
“And you, Munio Gustioz, be valiant men and true:
“When I am gone to Valencia let me have good tidings there.”
Martin Antolinez replied, “Sir, what needs this care?
434
“You may hear that we are dead, but defeated never.”
The Cid was joyful at the word, and quitted them anon;
He has taken leave of all his friends, and shortly he is gone.
The Cid goes to Valencia, the King to Carrion.
Three weeks had been appointed, and now they are past away,
The champions of the Cid are ready at the day:
They are ready in the field to defend their master's right,
The noble King is with them, to protect them with his might.
They waited in the place for two days and a night,
Behold the Lords of Carrion where they appear in sight:
They are coming with an host of their kindred and their clan,
With horses and with arms, and many a valiant man;
If they could meet with them apart, or take them unaware,
In dishonour of the Cid to have slain his champions there.
The thought was foul and evil, but yet they did not dare,
For fear of the King Alfonso that had them in his care.
That night they watch'd their arms, and past the hours in prayer;
The night is past and over, the day begins to break;
Great was the throng of folk who, for that battle's sake,
Flock'd in on every side, assembled for the fight,
And many a man of arms and many a wealthy knight.
There is the King Alfonso with all his power and might,
To keep down force and wrong, and to defend the right.
The champions of the Cid are all of good accord,
They are arming themselves together, like vassals of one Lord.
The Infants of Carrion are arming themselves apart,
Count Garcia sits advising them, and keeps them in good heart.
They bring a plea before the King, and they pretend a right,
That those two trenchant swords should not be used in fight,
The swords Colada and Tizon, which the Cid's champions wore;
They repent of their imprudence when they gave them up before.
They were earnest in their plea, but they could not succeed;
“You might have kept them for yourselves to serve you in your need;
“If you have other good ones, make use of them instead.
“Infants of Carrion! hear me and take heed:
“You must approve your honour by some manly deed.
“Go forth into the field, and show a valiant heart,
“For nothing will be wanting upon the Champions' part.
“If you are conquerors in the fight you will purchase great renown,
435
“For this business was your seeking, as has been seen and shown.”
The Infants of Carrion are beginning to repent;
The Lordship of Carrion with its honours and its rent,
Its mansion and its lands, they would have given all,
Could they command the past, to redeem it and recall.
The Champions of the Cid, clad in their warlike weed,
The King is gone to see them and wish them well to speed.
“Sir, we kiss your hands as our good Lord and sire,
“To have you judge and umpire is all that we require.
“Defend us in all right, assist us not in wrong;
“The friends of the Lords of Carrion are numerous and strong,
“We cannot guess their counsels, nor how they will behave.
“To the good Cid, our master, the promise that you gave,
“To defend us and protect us, this, Sir, is all we crave,
“So long as right and justice are found upon our part.”
“That will I,” said the King, “with all my soul and heart.”
Their horses are brought up to them, coursers strong and fleet,
They sign their saddles with the cross, and leap into the seat;
Their shields are hanging at their necks with bosses broad and sheen,
They take their lances in their hands, the points are bright and keen,
A pennon at each lance, the staves were large and stout,
And many a valiant man encompass'd them about.
They rode forth to the field where the barriers were set out.
The Champions of the Cid are agreed upon their plan,
To fight as they had challenged, and each to charge his man.
There come the Lords of Carrion with their kindred and their clan;
The King has appointed heralds for avoiding all debate,
He spoke aloud amongst them in the field there where they sate.
“Infants of Carrion! Attend to what I say:
“You should have fought this battle upon a former day,
“When we were at Toledo, but you would not agree;
“And now the noble Cid has sent these Champions three,
“To fight in the lands of Carrion, escorted here by me.
“Be valiant in your right, attempt no force or wrong;
“If any man attempt it he shall not triumph long:
“He never shall have rest or peace within my kingdom more.”
The Infants of Carrion are now repenting sore;
The heralds and the King are foremost in the place,
They clear away the people from the middle space:
They measure out the lists, the barriers they fix:
They point them out in order, and explain to all the six:
“If you are forced beyond the line where they are fixt and traced,
“You shall be held as conquer'd, and beaten and disgraced.”
Six lances' length on either side an open space is laid,
They part the field between them, the sunshine and the shade.
Their office is perform'd, and from the middle space,
The heralds are withdrawn, and leave them face to face.
Here stood the warriors of the Cid, that noble champion,
Opposite on the other side, the Lords of Carrion.
Earnestly their minds are fixt each upon his foe;
Face to face they take their place; anon the trumpets blow.
They stir their horses with the spur, they lay their lances low,
They bend their shields before their breasts, their face to the saddle bow.
Earnestly their minds are fixt each upon his foe.
The heavens are overcast above, the earth trembles below,
The people stand in silence, gazing on the show:
Bermuez the first challenger first in combat closed,
He met Ferran Gonzales, face to face opposed;
They rush together with such rage that all men count them dead,
They strike each other on the shield, without all fear or dread.
Ferran Gonzales with his lance pierced the shield outright,
It past Bermuez on the left side, in his flesh it did not bite.
The spear was snapt in twain, Bermuez sat upright,
He neither flinch'd nor swerved, like a true stedfast knight,
A good stroke he received, but a better he has given;
He struck the shield upon the boss, in sunder it is riven.
Onward into Ferran's breast the lance's point is driven,
Full upon his breastplate, nothing would avail;
Two breastplates Fernando wore and a coat of mail:
The two are riven in sunder, the third stood him in stead,
The mail sunk in his breast, the mail and the spear head,
The blood burst from his mouth that all men thought him dead.
The blow has broken his girdle and his saddle girth,
It has taken him over his horse's back, and borne him to the earth.
The people think him dead, as he lies on the sand;
Bermuez left his lance and took his sword in hand.
Ferran Gonzales knew the blade which he had worn of old,
Before the blow came down, he yielded and cried, “Hold!”
Antolinez and Diego encounter'd man for man,
Their spears were shiver'd with the shock, so eagerly they ran.
Antolinez drew forth the blade which Diego once had worn,
Eagerly he aim'd the blow for the vengeance he had sworn.
Right through Diego's helm the blade its edge has borne,
The crest and helm are lopt away, the coif and hair are shorn.
He stood astounded with the stroke, trembling and forlorn,
He waved his sword above his head, he made a piteous cry,
“O save me, save me from that blade, Almighty Lord on high!”
Antolinez came fiercely round to reach the fatal stroke,
Diego's courser rear'd upright, and through the barrier broke.
Antolinez has won the day, though his blow he miss'd,
He has driven Diego from the field, and stands within the list.
I must tell you of Munio Gustioz, two combats now are done;
How he fought with Assur Gonzales, you shall hear anon.
Assur Gonzales, a fierce and hardy knight,
He rode at Munio Gustioz with all his force and might;
He struck the shield and pierced it through, but the point came wide,
It pass'd by Munio Gustioz, betwixt his arm and side:
Sternly, like a practised knight, Munio met him there.
His lance he levell'd stedfastly, and through the shield him bare;
He bore the point into his breast, a little beside the heart;
It took him through the body, but in no mortal part;
The shaft stood out behind his back a cloth-yard and more;
The pennon and the point were dripping down with gore.
Munio still clench'd his spear, as he pass'd he forced it round,
He wrench'd him from the saddle, and cast him to the ground.
His horse sprung forward with the spur, he pluck'd the spear away,
He wheel'd and came again to pierce him where he lay.
Then cried Gonzalo Asurez, “For God's sake spare my son!
“The other two have yielded, the field is fought and won.”
The King is gone to see them and wish them well to speed.
“Sir, we kiss your hands as our good Lord and sire,
“To have you judge and umpire is all that we require.
“Defend us in all right, assist us not in wrong;
“The friends of the Lords of Carrion are numerous and strong,
“We cannot guess their counsels, nor how they will behave.
“To the good Cid, our master, the promise that you gave,
“To defend us and protect us, this, Sir, is all we crave,
“So long as right and justice are found upon our part.”
“That will I,” said the King, “with all my soul and heart.”
Their horses are brought up to them, coursers strong and fleet,
They sign their saddles with the cross, and leap into the seat;
Their shields are hanging at their necks with bosses broad and sheen,
They take their lances in their hands, the points are bright and keen,
A pennon at each lance, the staves were large and stout,
And many a valiant man encompass'd them about.
They rode forth to the field where the barriers were set out.
The Champions of the Cid are agreed upon their plan,
To fight as they had challenged, and each to charge his man.
There come the Lords of Carrion with their kindred and their clan;
The King has appointed heralds for avoiding all debate,
He spoke aloud amongst them in the field there where they sate.
“Infants of Carrion! Attend to what I say:
“You should have fought this battle upon a former day,
“When we were at Toledo, but you would not agree;
“And now the noble Cid has sent these Champions three,
“To fight in the lands of Carrion, escorted here by me.
“Be valiant in your right, attempt no force or wrong;
“If any man attempt it he shall not triumph long:
“He never shall have rest or peace within my kingdom more.”
The Infants of Carrion are now repenting sore;
436
They clear away the people from the middle space:
They measure out the lists, the barriers they fix:
They point them out in order, and explain to all the six:
“If you are forced beyond the line where they are fixt and traced,
“You shall be held as conquer'd, and beaten and disgraced.”
Six lances' length on either side an open space is laid,
They part the field between them, the sunshine and the shade.
Their office is perform'd, and from the middle space,
The heralds are withdrawn, and leave them face to face.
Here stood the warriors of the Cid, that noble champion,
Opposite on the other side, the Lords of Carrion.
Earnestly their minds are fixt each upon his foe;
Face to face they take their place; anon the trumpets blow.
They stir their horses with the spur, they lay their lances low,
They bend their shields before their breasts, their face to the saddle bow.
Earnestly their minds are fixt each upon his foe.
The heavens are overcast above, the earth trembles below,
The people stand in silence, gazing on the show:
Bermuez the first challenger first in combat closed,
He met Ferran Gonzales, face to face opposed;
They rush together with such rage that all men count them dead,
They strike each other on the shield, without all fear or dread.
Ferran Gonzales with his lance pierced the shield outright,
It past Bermuez on the left side, in his flesh it did not bite.
The spear was snapt in twain, Bermuez sat upright,
He neither flinch'd nor swerved, like a true stedfast knight,
A good stroke he received, but a better he has given;
He struck the shield upon the boss, in sunder it is riven.
Onward into Ferran's breast the lance's point is driven,
Full upon his breastplate, nothing would avail;
Two breastplates Fernando wore and a coat of mail:
The two are riven in sunder, the third stood him in stead,
The mail sunk in his breast, the mail and the spear head,
The blood burst from his mouth that all men thought him dead.
The blow has broken his girdle and his saddle girth,
It has taken him over his horse's back, and borne him to the earth.
The people think him dead, as he lies on the sand;
Bermuez left his lance and took his sword in hand.
Ferran Gonzales knew the blade which he had worn of old,
437
Antolinez and Diego encounter'd man for man,
Their spears were shiver'd with the shock, so eagerly they ran.
Antolinez drew forth the blade which Diego once had worn,
Eagerly he aim'd the blow for the vengeance he had sworn.
Right through Diego's helm the blade its edge has borne,
The crest and helm are lopt away, the coif and hair are shorn.
He stood astounded with the stroke, trembling and forlorn,
He waved his sword above his head, he made a piteous cry,
“O save me, save me from that blade, Almighty Lord on high!”
Antolinez came fiercely round to reach the fatal stroke,
Diego's courser rear'd upright, and through the barrier broke.
Antolinez has won the day, though his blow he miss'd,
He has driven Diego from the field, and stands within the list.
I must tell you of Munio Gustioz, two combats now are done;
How he fought with Assur Gonzales, you shall hear anon.
Assur Gonzales, a fierce and hardy knight,
He rode at Munio Gustioz with all his force and might;
He struck the shield and pierced it through, but the point came wide,
It pass'd by Munio Gustioz, betwixt his arm and side:
Sternly, like a practised knight, Munio met him there.
His lance he levell'd stedfastly, and through the shield him bare;
He bore the point into his breast, a little beside the heart;
It took him through the body, but in no mortal part;
The shaft stood out behind his back a cloth-yard and more;
The pennon and the point were dripping down with gore.
Munio still clench'd his spear, as he pass'd he forced it round,
He wrench'd him from the saddle, and cast him to the ground.
His horse sprung forward with the spur, he pluck'd the spear away,
He wheel'd and came again to pierce him where he lay.
Then cried Gonzalo Asurez, “For God's sake spare my son!
“The other two have yielded, the field is fought and won.”
439
MISCELLANEOUS TRANSLATIONS.
441
TRANSLATION FROM THE ILIAD.
Διογενες Λαερτιαδη, κ.τ.λ.—
Il. ix. 1. 308-487.
Il. ix. 1. 308-487.
Wise and illustrious chief, Laertes' heir,
“'Tis best my settled purpose to declare,
“As reason and my fix'd resolves decide,
“No more with vain discourses to be plied,
“And baffled and beset from side to side:
“For worse than hell the caitiff I detest,
“Whose tongue belies the secret of his breast;
“Thus, then, receive mine answer, in the strain
“That suits my character, broad speech and plain.
“'Tis best my settled purpose to declare,
“As reason and my fix'd resolves decide,
“No more with vain discourses to be plied,
“And baffled and beset from side to side:
“For worse than hell the caitiff I detest,
“Whose tongue belies the secret of his breast;
“Thus, then, receive mine answer, in the strain
“That suits my character, broad speech and plain.
“Not he the king, nor any wiser Greek
“Will prosper in his errand, if they seek
“To win me to their purpose—for the meed
“Of valour waits not upon warlike deed—
“The coward and the brave alike succeed.
“When I have labour'd hard and nobly fought,
“When all is ended, it avails me nought
“To pass my days in danger and in strife,
“At ev'ry turn of war to stake my life;
“As the fond bird protects her infant brood,
“Fatigued and fasting to provide them food,
“I watch'd the Greeks: for them in arms I lay
“Long weary nights that sleepless pass'd away,
“And toil'd in tasks of bloodshed thro' the day.
“Twelve island towns I took, eleven more
“I storm'd and sack'd upon the Trojan shore;
“Large booty from them all I bore away,—
“Atrides, in the camp here where he lay,
“Received the whole, and, as it lik'd him best,
“Dealt round a portion, and reserv'd the rest.
“Each chief retains that portion as his own,
“Mine, mine, he re-demands, and mine alone;
“He has her—let him surfeit with delight,
“There let him pass the careless easy night,
“With the fond partner that my soul held dear—
“But tell me, then! what purpose brought us here?
“Why are the tribes of Greece and Troy at strife?
“Forsooth for Menelaus and his wife—
“The noble sons of Athens it should seem
“Feel for their wives and women. Do they deem
“That passion to their single soul's confin'd,
“Or common to the hearts of human kind?”
“Not so.—The wife or consort claims a part,
“Endear'd and inward in each manly heart,
“The heart of ev'ry worthy man and brave—
“And I loved her, though captive and a slave.
“Now then, let him that scorn'd me and misused,
“(Scorn'd in his turn, rejected and refused)
“Forbear, for shame, no more resort to us,
“But some more practicable point discuss;
“Let him with you, Ulysses, and the rest
“Deliberate what means may promise best
“To save his fleet and camp from being fired:
“Great things has he achieved since I retired.
“Has he not built a noble mound and wall,
“Turrets and trenches, palisades and all?
“But all is little when the headlong might
“Of murderous Hector urges on the fight.
“When I was in the field his utmost reach
“Was to the seven portals and the beach;
“Once, only once, he ventured to advance,—
“He stood one onset, and escaped by chance.
“But now those transient enmities are o'er,
“The noble Hector is my foe no more.
“And if the sight be worth your thought or care,
“To-morrow you may view a prospect fair—
“The ships and vessels crowding from the shore,
“And lusty sailors stooping to the oar;
“The prows with garlands crown'd in joyous pride,
“Stemming athwart the strong proponding tide;
“A three days' voyage, if our vows are heard,
“We reach the shores of Phthia on the third.
“The wealth that I relinquish'd there before,
“To die despised on this accursed shore,
“I shall again behold, and add thereto
“Gold, brass, and comely captives not a few:
“My lawful prize, the purchase of the sword;
“As for the boon he gave—your haughty lord
“Has falsified his gift and borne her hence,
“In my despite, with wrong and insolence—
“So tell him, word for word, my plain reply
“Aloud in public—that the common cry
“May vindicate my wrongs—that every Greek
“(Whene'er this tyrant Lord again may seek
“To pillage and dishonour him) may know,
“And stand forewarn'd of what his actions show—
“His fraud, his insolence, his love of pelf,—
“This for the rest. For what concerns myself
“The tyrant's impudence would scarce suffice
“To meet me face to face; no more advice,
“Counsel, or aid shall he receive from me—
“Enough! more than enough! so let him be,
“Even as he is, mark'd by the fates' decree,
“For speedy wrath, by the just hand of Jove,
“Blasted with pride and madness from above;
“His gifts I loathe—and hate the giver worse—
“The poorest Carian born, that fills a purse,
“Following his trade of mercenary war,
“I deem a nobler chief, and worthier far—
“I scorn, then, I reject his gifts, his gold,
“If they were doubled, trebled, ten times told—
“With all that he possesses else or more—
“No, not the piles of wealth amass'd of yore
“In old Orchomenus, nor all the store
“Of Thebes in Egypt, where a hundred gates
“Pour forth their armies to the subject states—
“Not these, nor all the wealth of land and sea
“Shall ever reconcile your lord and me,
“Till my full vengeance has its course, the last,
“The sole requital of offences past.
“His girls may equal Venus in their bloom,
“Or Pallas in the labours of the loom,
“Adorn'd with graces and with charms divine,
“But never shall he see them wives of mine.
“Some suitable alliance let him seek;
“Some other nobler, more distinguish'd Greek;
“For me, when all my wars are at an end,
“If I return alive, with heaven to friend,
“My father Peleus will himself provide,
“Among the neighbouring chiefs a proper bride:
“Some daughter of the native nobles there,
“Of goodly kindred and possessions fair,
“That hold the cities of the plain in charge,
“Or in their rocky castles live at large:
“There, too, whatever girl may most attract
“My fancy would be mine; my mind, in fact,
“Is turn'd to marriage and domestic life;
“A fair inheritance, a comely wife,
“To live at ease with what the pains and care
“Of Peleus have provided for his heir;
“For after all this life-blood in the breast
“Of all possessions is the first and best;
“Not to be barter'd, countervaled, or sold
“For all that in the wealthy times of old
“This town of Troy possess'd, before the day
“That brought her power and treasure to decay;
“Or all that rocky Pythos holds immured,
“For sanctuary, secret and secured;
“Flocks, herds, and coursers of a noble strain,
“By force or fraud, we lose them and regain;
“But when the breath of life is past and gone,
“No rescue serves, and ransom there is none.
“This, too, my mother goddess has declared,
“The double destiny by Jove's award,
“Allotted to my choice, free to refuse,
“Or to select at will the fate I choose.
“If longer I remain and persevere
“To prosecute the siege I perish here,
“Leaving a name and memory behind
“Renown'd among the races of mankind;
“Returning home a peaceful easy life
“Awaits me, destitute of care and strife,
“Compensating the loss of future praise,
“With wealth and ease and length of happy days.
“And truly the same counsel I should give,
“For all my comrades to return and live,
“And save your host and navy while you may.
“The Trojan race are brave, and day by day
“More desperate they manifestly fight
“With Jove's assistance and increasing might.
“Now then return, and to the chiefs in court
“Assembled make a full and fair report,
“With this advice, moreover sound and short,
“To think of other means that may suffice
“To save their army—for this new device,
“This scheme of reconcilement to secure
“My service at their need, is premature.”
He ceased—the chiefs astounded at the force,
And unabated wrath of his discourse,
Sat mute, till Phœnix like a worthy Greek,
In pity for his friends, essayed to speak,
The tears fast falling down his aged cheek.
“Since then, indeed, you mean, Achilles dear,
“To leave the fleet and host in danger here,
“Moved by the fiery pride and high disdain
“That rules your spirit, how should I remain?
“What should I do without you left behind,
“When he, your father Peleus, old and kind,
“Appointed me your guide the very day
“We went to join the king, and came away
“From his own house at Phthia, then were you
“A youth unpractis'd in the world, and new,—
“New to the wars, and to concerns of state,
“Unus'd to public council and debate.
“Therefore I went, appointed, you to teach
“All stratagems of war and arts of speech,
“To make you, what the world has known and seen,
“The creature that you are and long have been.
“And shall I leave you now, my son—not I,
“Not if the Gods, to tempt me to comply,
“Would make me young and active, and restore
“My strength and spirit as it was before
“When I abandon'd first my native place,
“Flying an exile from my father's face.
“Our strife too for a woman's cause began,
“He view'd and chose and brought her home, his plan
“To take her for a concubine to shame
“My noble mother his own lawful dame;
“She therewithal with earnest pray'r and strong,
“Entreated and besought me fast and long
“To anticipate him—yielding to the son
“She deem'd the damsel would detest and shun
“The father. I complied, and it was done—
“It was detected—and my father knew—
“And ever, as his rage of passion grew,
“He prayed aloud, with grief and fury torn,
“That never infant from my body born
“Might press my arms or prattle at my knee—
“Thus prayed my Sire, and thus the fates decree.
“Then was my spirit mov'd with grief and pain,
“As restless and indignant to remain
“Under a father's curse, beneath his roof
“Then, too, the friends and kindred wide aloof,
“Came at a summons on my Sire's behoof—
“Kinsmen and cousins, all with long discourse,
“To reconcile or keep me there by force;
“They feasted and caroused, the beeves and swine
“Were slaughter'd, hoarded jars of racy wine
“Drawn forth and emptied—thus the day was past;
“At night they watch'd by turns and kept me fast
“Within my chamber, with a fire before
“The threshold of my gate and at my door.
“Thus nine continued days with guard and light
“They watch'd me till the tenth and fatal night:
“Then forth I burst and broke the chamber door,
“And rush'd across the court and vaulted o'er
“Th' enclosure, fence and all, fleeing amain
“Straight forward thro' the broad Helladian plain:
“There noble Peleus, with a kind good will,
“Receiv'd me, favour'd and protected still,
“Even as a cherish'd unexpected heir,
“Appointing me possessions rich and fair,
“Vassals and lands—there in a frontier place,
“I dwelt and govern'd the Dolopian race:
“And there, Achilles, with all pains and care
“I nurs'd and rear'd and made you what you are.
“And dearly did I love you, for your will
“Was ever constant to be with me still;
“Nor ever would you dine abroad or eat,
“But I must mix the wine and carve the meat;
“And often was my bosom drench'd with wine,
“When you were seated on these knees of mine,
“Coughing and heaving at an awkward sup,
“When with your hands in mine I held the cup.”
“Will prosper in his errand, if they seek
“To win me to their purpose—for the meed
“Of valour waits not upon warlike deed—
“The coward and the brave alike succeed.
“When I have labour'd hard and nobly fought,
“When all is ended, it avails me nought
“To pass my days in danger and in strife,
“At ev'ry turn of war to stake my life;
“As the fond bird protects her infant brood,
“Fatigued and fasting to provide them food,
“I watch'd the Greeks: for them in arms I lay
“Long weary nights that sleepless pass'd away,
“And toil'd in tasks of bloodshed thro' the day.
“Twelve island towns I took, eleven more
“I storm'd and sack'd upon the Trojan shore;
442
“Atrides, in the camp here where he lay,
“Received the whole, and, as it lik'd him best,
“Dealt round a portion, and reserv'd the rest.
“Each chief retains that portion as his own,
“Mine, mine, he re-demands, and mine alone;
“He has her—let him surfeit with delight,
“There let him pass the careless easy night,
“With the fond partner that my soul held dear—
“But tell me, then! what purpose brought us here?
“Why are the tribes of Greece and Troy at strife?
“Forsooth for Menelaus and his wife—
“The noble sons of Athens it should seem
“Feel for their wives and women. Do they deem
“That passion to their single soul's confin'd,
“Or common to the hearts of human kind?”
“Not so.—The wife or consort claims a part,
“Endear'd and inward in each manly heart,
“The heart of ev'ry worthy man and brave—
“And I loved her, though captive and a slave.
“Now then, let him that scorn'd me and misused,
“(Scorn'd in his turn, rejected and refused)
“Forbear, for shame, no more resort to us,
“But some more practicable point discuss;
“Let him with you, Ulysses, and the rest
“Deliberate what means may promise best
“To save his fleet and camp from being fired:
“Great things has he achieved since I retired.
“Has he not built a noble mound and wall,
“Turrets and trenches, palisades and all?
“But all is little when the headlong might
“Of murderous Hector urges on the fight.
“When I was in the field his utmost reach
“Was to the seven portals and the beach;
“Once, only once, he ventured to advance,—
“He stood one onset, and escaped by chance.
“But now those transient enmities are o'er,
“The noble Hector is my foe no more.
“And if the sight be worth your thought or care,
“To-morrow you may view a prospect fair—
“The ships and vessels crowding from the shore,
443
“The prows with garlands crown'd in joyous pride,
“Stemming athwart the strong proponding tide;
“A three days' voyage, if our vows are heard,
“We reach the shores of Phthia on the third.
“The wealth that I relinquish'd there before,
“To die despised on this accursed shore,
“I shall again behold, and add thereto
“Gold, brass, and comely captives not a few:
“My lawful prize, the purchase of the sword;
“As for the boon he gave—your haughty lord
“Has falsified his gift and borne her hence,
“In my despite, with wrong and insolence—
“So tell him, word for word, my plain reply
“Aloud in public—that the common cry
“May vindicate my wrongs—that every Greek
“(Whene'er this tyrant Lord again may seek
“To pillage and dishonour him) may know,
“And stand forewarn'd of what his actions show—
“His fraud, his insolence, his love of pelf,—
“This for the rest. For what concerns myself
“The tyrant's impudence would scarce suffice
“To meet me face to face; no more advice,
“Counsel, or aid shall he receive from me—
“Enough! more than enough! so let him be,
“Even as he is, mark'd by the fates' decree,
“For speedy wrath, by the just hand of Jove,
“Blasted with pride and madness from above;
“His gifts I loathe—and hate the giver worse—
“The poorest Carian born, that fills a purse,
“Following his trade of mercenary war,
“I deem a nobler chief, and worthier far—
“I scorn, then, I reject his gifts, his gold,
“If they were doubled, trebled, ten times told—
“With all that he possesses else or more—
“No, not the piles of wealth amass'd of yore
“In old Orchomenus, nor all the store
“Of Thebes in Egypt, where a hundred gates
“Pour forth their armies to the subject states—
“Not these, nor all the wealth of land and sea
“Shall ever reconcile your lord and me,
444
“The sole requital of offences past.
“His girls may equal Venus in their bloom,
“Or Pallas in the labours of the loom,
“Adorn'd with graces and with charms divine,
“But never shall he see them wives of mine.
“Some suitable alliance let him seek;
“Some other nobler, more distinguish'd Greek;
“For me, when all my wars are at an end,
“If I return alive, with heaven to friend,
“My father Peleus will himself provide,
“Among the neighbouring chiefs a proper bride:
“Some daughter of the native nobles there,
“Of goodly kindred and possessions fair,
“That hold the cities of the plain in charge,
“Or in their rocky castles live at large:
“There, too, whatever girl may most attract
“My fancy would be mine; my mind, in fact,
“Is turn'd to marriage and domestic life;
“A fair inheritance, a comely wife,
“To live at ease with what the pains and care
“Of Peleus have provided for his heir;
“For after all this life-blood in the breast
“Of all possessions is the first and best;
“Not to be barter'd, countervaled, or sold
“For all that in the wealthy times of old
“This town of Troy possess'd, before the day
“That brought her power and treasure to decay;
“Or all that rocky Pythos holds immured,
“For sanctuary, secret and secured;
“Flocks, herds, and coursers of a noble strain,
“By force or fraud, we lose them and regain;
“But when the breath of life is past and gone,
“No rescue serves, and ransom there is none.
“This, too, my mother goddess has declared,
“The double destiny by Jove's award,
“Allotted to my choice, free to refuse,
“Or to select at will the fate I choose.
“If longer I remain and persevere
“To prosecute the siege I perish here,
“Leaving a name and memory behind
445
“Returning home a peaceful easy life
“Awaits me, destitute of care and strife,
“Compensating the loss of future praise,
“With wealth and ease and length of happy days.
“And truly the same counsel I should give,
“For all my comrades to return and live,
“And save your host and navy while you may.
“The Trojan race are brave, and day by day
“More desperate they manifestly fight
“With Jove's assistance and increasing might.
“Now then return, and to the chiefs in court
“Assembled make a full and fair report,
“With this advice, moreover sound and short,
“To think of other means that may suffice
“To save their army—for this new device,
“This scheme of reconcilement to secure
“My service at their need, is premature.”
He ceased—the chiefs astounded at the force,
And unabated wrath of his discourse,
Sat mute, till Phœnix like a worthy Greek,
In pity for his friends, essayed to speak,
The tears fast falling down his aged cheek.
“Since then, indeed, you mean, Achilles dear,
“To leave the fleet and host in danger here,
“Moved by the fiery pride and high disdain
“That rules your spirit, how should I remain?
“What should I do without you left behind,
“When he, your father Peleus, old and kind,
“Appointed me your guide the very day
“We went to join the king, and came away
“From his own house at Phthia, then were you
“A youth unpractis'd in the world, and new,—
“New to the wars, and to concerns of state,
“Unus'd to public council and debate.
“Therefore I went, appointed, you to teach
“All stratagems of war and arts of speech,
“To make you, what the world has known and seen,
“The creature that you are and long have been.
“And shall I leave you now, my son—not I,
“Not if the Gods, to tempt me to comply,
446
“My strength and spirit as it was before
“When I abandon'd first my native place,
“Flying an exile from my father's face.
“Our strife too for a woman's cause began,
“He view'd and chose and brought her home, his plan
“To take her for a concubine to shame
“My noble mother his own lawful dame;
“She therewithal with earnest pray'r and strong,
“Entreated and besought me fast and long
“To anticipate him—yielding to the son
“She deem'd the damsel would detest and shun
“The father. I complied, and it was done—
“It was detected—and my father knew—
“And ever, as his rage of passion grew,
“He prayed aloud, with grief and fury torn,
“That never infant from my body born
“Might press my arms or prattle at my knee—
“Thus prayed my Sire, and thus the fates decree.
“Then was my spirit mov'd with grief and pain,
“As restless and indignant to remain
“Under a father's curse, beneath his roof
“Then, too, the friends and kindred wide aloof,
“Came at a summons on my Sire's behoof—
“Kinsmen and cousins, all with long discourse,
“To reconcile or keep me there by force;
“They feasted and caroused, the beeves and swine
“Were slaughter'd, hoarded jars of racy wine
“Drawn forth and emptied—thus the day was past;
“At night they watch'd by turns and kept me fast
“Within my chamber, with a fire before
“The threshold of my gate and at my door.
“Thus nine continued days with guard and light
“They watch'd me till the tenth and fatal night:
“Then forth I burst and broke the chamber door,
“And rush'd across the court and vaulted o'er
“Th' enclosure, fence and all, fleeing amain
“Straight forward thro' the broad Helladian plain:
“There noble Peleus, with a kind good will,
“Receiv'd me, favour'd and protected still,
“Even as a cherish'd unexpected heir,
447
“Vassals and lands—there in a frontier place,
“I dwelt and govern'd the Dolopian race:
“And there, Achilles, with all pains and care
“I nurs'd and rear'd and made you what you are.
“And dearly did I love you, for your will
“Was ever constant to be with me still;
“Nor ever would you dine abroad or eat,
“But I must mix the wine and carve the meat;
“And often was my bosom drench'd with wine,
“When you were seated on these knees of mine,
“Coughing and heaving at an awkward sup,
“When with your hands in mine I held the cup.”
TRANSLATION FROM THE ODYSSEY.
Τηλεμαχ': ου σ' ο ζεινος, κ.τ.λ.
“On men like me, nor has your guest disgrac'd
“Your friendly roof. I did not labour long
“To bend the bow, nor have I aim'd it wrong.
“I feel my practice and my force the same.
“Henceforth the noble suitors will not blame
“The vigour of my arm and truth of aim.
“But now the hour invites you to repair
“To some slight banquet in the open air,
“Anon to feast within with dance and song,
“For joys like these to festive hours belong.”
He knit his brow, his son the signal knew,
And the light sword across his shoulders threw,
And grasp'd his spear, and stood with youthful pride
Array'd for battle at his father's side;
Ulysses cast his tatters to the ground,
Sprung forth and seiz'd the threshold at a bound,
Then showering down the glittering shafts around
448
“Another trial, Lords, I mean to make—
“Unlike the last, for further proof I take
“A point untouch'd by any marksman's skill,
“If my force fail me not—and Phœbus will.”
Then at Antinous his aim he took,
That stood, with careless air and easy look,
Fearless of fraud or force, secure of soul,
Just heaving from the board a mighty bowl;
He pois'd it in his hand, the cup was gold
With double handles of a massy mould;
Wafting it round, or ere he quaffed the wine,
Of death or danger what could he divine,
Or how imagine that a hand unknown,
Bold tho' he were, a stranger and alone,
Amidst his feasting friends should strike him dead?
Ulysses loos'd the string, the shaft was sped,
It struck him thro' the throat, the grisly point
Peer'd out behind beside the spinal joint;
He sinks aside, his limbs their force forego,
From his loose grasp the goblet falls below,
With streams of spouting gore his nostrils flow,
The table is spurn'd down, a mingled flood,
Pollutes the floor with meat, and wine, and blood.
The suitors rise in uproar round the hall,
And angry voices on Ulysses call.
“Stranger, this was a shrewd and evil shot,
“The archer's prize no more shall be thy lot,
“The vultures of this isle shall gnaw thy head,
“The noblest chief of Ithaca lies dead.”
They spoke unconscious of his dire intent,
As of a murder casual and unmeant;
But the stern chief abandoning disguise,
And fiercely looking round them thus replies.
“Traitors and dogs, you never dreamt before
“To see me here return'd from Ilion's shore,
“That, weak and helpless, in her husband's life,
“With boisterous courtship have besieg'd my wife;
“Grinding my household, and defiling all,
“Careless whatever vengeance may befall
“From righteous men or the just Gods on high—
“But know, your doom is fixed this day to die.”
449
TRANSLATIONS FROM EURIPIDES.
THE DIRGE IN THE ALCESTIS.
Ω Πελιου θυγατερ, κ.τ.λ.
—l. 435.
—l. 435.
Fare thee well, good and fair, Pelias's noble heir,
Thy course is done;
Good and gracious things betide thee,
In the dark mansion that must hide thee,
From yon fair sun.
The Sovereign of the Realm. And he that at the Helm
Steers in the murky stream his dusky wherry,
(Wafting the feeble sprites that flit below,)
Shall hear and know,
That never did a nobler spirit pass
The Infernal Ferry.
Firm and fond, far far beyond
The best of woman-kind that have been ever;
Whilst here on earth above,
Thy constant worth and love,
Shall form the theme of emulous endeavour,
Wherever minstrels sing—or where they strike the string:
Whether in Sparta's ancient state austere,
When the revolving year
Brings round the high Karneian festival,
And the moon's awful and full orbed ball,
Fills and illumines all:
Or where proud Athens hails the festive day,
With pomp and art and prosperous display.
HERCULES FURENS.
Μη συ νουθετει, κ.τ.λ.
—l. 855.
—l. 855.
The Demon of Madness is represented as having a certain feeling of justice and right, averse to exercising her power, but at the same time having a pleasure in it. She has been remonstrating with Iris, who answers:
Iris.Don't remonstrate, Juno's order justifies you, never fear,
You've a warrant for your errand, and you come, commission'd here,
450
Lissa.
Heaven and earth I call to witness. I protest and invocate,
Every power that sees and hears us, and the sun's all-viewing eye,
To record that, as a vassal, on compulsion I comply.
Since the fates have so decreed it, and you bring me tied and bound,
Train'd to chase the prey before me, like a huntsman with a hound,
Here I go then!—Nor the tempest, nor the deep earth quaking shock,
Nor the speed of angry lightning, nor the bolt that splits the rock,
With a fiercer haste and heat shall hurry than shall I to seize,
And overturn and storm the breast and brain of Hercules.
First, I mean to slay the children, nor shall he—the father—he,
Know the deed his hands are doing, 'till I leave his spirit free.
—Now the storm begins to shake him—life and death are in debate,—
—Look before you—there! behold him—low'ring at the palace gate—
Mark the turn his eyes are taking—and the forehead, bending low,
Breathing hard and angry like the bull that meditates a blow—
Invocating earth and hell, and all the dreary powers below.
There you stand entranced and idle! I shall rouse and shake ye soon—
Hand in hand, a surly partner dancing to a bloody tune.
—Iris, hence! to fair Olympus, speed aloft your airy flight.—
I proceed within the palace—creeping onward out of sight.
FROM EMPEDOCLES.
ΠΕΡΙ ΚΑΘΑΡΜΩΝ.—Frag. 77 & 78.
Ω φιλοι οι μεγα αστυ, κ.τ.λ.
Friends! kinsmen! inmates of the noble town,
Whose rocky-planted turrets guard and crown
Old Agrigentum's memorable seat;
Famous for courteous cheer and converse sweet,
My fellow-citizens!—I greet you well:
Within your gentle precincts here I dwell,
451
Than ever human mortal was before,
Even as a visible Deity; with a crown,
With garlands and with fillets falling down,
With such a pomp of ornament, I meet
Your daily gaze, and move along the street.
When to the neighbouring city, as befals,
My progress leads me, far without the walls,
The multitude flock forth and crowd the way,
Men, women, old and young, in long array,
Eager in admiration or concern,
To know, what it imports them most to learn,
Of omens, expiations, prophecies,
Or politic advisements, deep and wise,
Or means of public safety for defence
Against the wasting power of pestilence—
Oh, poor pre-eminence! how mean! how base!
Amidst this earthly, transitory race,
To boast of worldly power, or name, or place.
452
FROM CATULLUS.
Carm. III.—Lugete, o Veneres, &c.
Ye Venuses and Cupids all,And all polite, well-bred,
Ingenious persons, hear my call!
My lady's sparrow,—he is dead,
And therefore you must drop a tear:
He was so nice a little dear—
Such a darling, such a love;
Round the room, about, above,
He used to flutter and to hurry,—
Then he came, in such a flurry,
Flying to my lady's breast,
Lodging in it like a nest,
Like an infant with a mother;
He would not leave her for another;
He would not move, he would not stir,
Nor chirp for any, but for her.
And now, they say, that he must go,
For ever, to the shades below,
Where not a creature, I can learn,
Was ever suffered to return.
O nasty, spiteful, ugly death,
To be so peevish and absurd,—
To take that dear, delightful bird,
Down to your odious shades beneath;
O dismal and unhappy case,—
Poor Lesbia's eyes and lovely face
Are flush'd with weeping, vex'd and red,
Since her unlucky bird is dead.
453
Carm. IV.—Phaselus ille, &c.
Stranger, the bark you see before you says,That in old times, and in her early days,
She was a lively vessel that could make
The quickest voyages, and overtake
All her competitors with sail or oar;
And she defies the rude Illyrian shore,
And Rhodes, with her proud harbour, and the seas
That intersect the scatter'd Cyclades,
And the Propontic and the Thracian coast,
(Bold as it is) to contradict her boast.
She calls to witness the dark Euxine sea,
And mountains that had known her as a tree,
Before her transformation, when she stood
A native of the deep Cytorian wood,
Where all her ancestors had flourish'd long,
And, with their old traditionary song,
Had whisper'd her responses to the breeze,
And waked the chorus of her sister trees.
Amastris! from your haven forth she went,
You witness'd her first outset and descent,
Adventuring on an unknown element.
From thence she bore her master safe and free
From danger and alarm, through many a sea;
Nor ever once was known to lag behind,
Foremost on every tack, with every wind
At last, to this fair inland lake, she says
She came to pass the remnant of her days,
Leaving no debt due to the Deities,
For vows preferr'd in danger on the seas:
Clear of incumbrance, therefore, and all other
Contentious claims, to Castor or his brother,
As a free gift and offering she devotes
Herself, as long as she survives and floats.
454
Carm. X.—Varus me meus, &c.
Varus, whom I chanced to meetThe other evening in the street,
Engaged me there, upon the spot,
To see a mistress he had got.
She seem'd, as far as I can gather,
Lively and smart, and handsome rather.
There, as we rested from our walk,
We enter'd into different talk—
As how much might Bithynia bring?
And had I found it a good thing?
I answer'd, as it was the fact,
The province had been stript and sack'd;
That there was nothing for the prætors,
And still less for us wretched creatures,
His poor companions and toad-eaters.
At least, says she, you bought some fellows
To bear your litter; for they tell us,
Our only good ones come from there—
I chose to give myself an air;
Why, truly with my poor estate,
The difference wasn't quite so great
Betwixt a province, good or bad,
That where a purchase could be had,
Eight lusty fellows, straight and tall,
I shouldn't find the wherewithal
To buy them. But it was a lie;
For not a single wretch had I—
No single cripple fit to bear
A broken bedstead or a chair.
She, like a strumpet, pert and knowing,
Said—“Dear Catullus, I am going
“To worship at Serapis' shrine—
Do lend me, pray, those slaves of thine!”
I answer'd—It was idly said,—
They were a purchase Cinna made
(Caius Cinna, my good friend)—
It was the same thing in the end,
455
I always used them as my own;
Only the phrase was inexact—
He bought them for himself, in fact.
But you have caught the general vice
Of being too correct and nice,
Over curious and precise;
And seizing with precipitation
The slight neglects of conversation.
Carm. XXXI.—Peninsularum Sirmio, &c.
Of all the famous isles and promontories,From the sun's up-rise to his setting glories,
Of all that Neptune's liquid arms surround,
In oceans or in midland waters found,
The fairest and the best, to thee I call—
Sirmio, the gem and jewel of them all.
How gladly I revisit and review
Thy wonted scenes, and scarce believe it true,
After so long a journey, past and o'er,
From Hellespont and the Bithynian shore,
To find myself amidst your walks once more.
How sweet it is to lay aside the load
Of foreign cares within one's own abode,
And with free heart and unencumber'd head,
To couch ourselves in our accustom'd bed;
That single moment overpays our pain—
Sweet Sirmio receive me once again,
And with thy smiles, thy old possessor greet,
And ye, fair waters of the Lydian Lake,
Salute me with such mirth as ye can make,
And roll your laughing billows at my feet.
Let all be glad and cheerful for my sake.
1805.
456
Carm. XXXIX.—Egnatius quod candidos, &c.
Egnatius has a certain pride that centresIn his white teeth; he smiles at all adventures:
He goes, like other people, to attend
And countenance the trial of a friend:
The orator insists and perseveres;
The audience and judges are in tears;
When in the midst of his pathetic style,
Egnatius sympathises with a smile.
Following a widow to the funeral pile
Of her last child, he cannot choose but smile:
Without a thought of person, time, or place,
He wears a constant smile upon his face:
In business, in distress, in haste, in sadness,
It looks like a disease, a kind of madness:
(Though not a witty madness or refined)—
A madness in degree, though not in kind,
And therefore all his friends must speak their mind.
—My dear Egnatius, if your birth had been
At Tiber, Rome, or in the space between;
Were you a Susian fat or Umbrian poor,
A Volscian, or a Lanuvinian boor,
Sharp-tooth'd and eager at his meals and labours;
Or a Cisalpine, like my friends and neighbours;
Of any nation, tribe, or race, in short,
That scour their teeth and gums in cleanly sort,
I still should disapprove that constant smile,
It shows a silly, poor, affected style.—
But in his native Celtiberian land,
Your Celtiberian, as we understand,
Time out of mind, cleanseth his jaws and bone,
Each for himself, with urine of his own,
Reserved and hoarded from the day before;
And therefore, calculated on that score,
The whiteness of your teeth seems to imply
A steady, copious use of chamber-lye.
1810.
457
Carm. LXI.—Collis o Heliconei, &c.
458
I
You that from the mother's side,Lead the lingering, blushing bride,
Fair Urania's son—
Leave awhile the lonely mount,
The haunted grove and holy fount
Of chilling Helicon.
II
With myrtle wreaths enweave thy hair—Wave the torch aloft in air—
Make no long delay:
With flowing robe and footsteps light,
And gilded buskins glancing bright,
Hither bend thy way.
III
Join at once, with airy vigour,In the dance's varied figure,
To the cymbal's chime:
Frolic unrestrain'd and free—
Let voice, and air, and verse agree,
And the torch beat time.
IV
Hymen come, for JuliaWeds with Manlius to-day,
And deigns to be a bride.
Such a form as Venus wore
In the contest famed of yore,
On Mount Ida's side;
V
Like the myrtle or the bay,Florid, elegant, and gay,
With foliage fresh and new;
459
Have foster'd in sequester'd shades,
With drops of holy dew.
VI
Leave, then, all the rocks and cellsOf the deep Aonian dells,
And the caverns hoar;
And the dreary streams that weep
From the stony Thespian steep,
Dripping evermore.
VII
Haste away to new delights,To domestic happy rites,
Human haunts and ways;
With a kindly charm applied,
Soften and appease the bride,
And shorten our delays.
VIII
Bring her hither, bound to move,Drawn and led with bands of love,
Like the tender twine
Which the searching ivy plies,
Clinging in a thousand ties
O'er the clasping vine.
IX
Gentle virgins, you besides,Whom the like event betides,
With the coming year;
Call on Hymen! call him now!
Call aloud! A virgin vow
Best befits his ear.
X
“Is there any deity“More beloved and kind than he—
“More disposed to bless;
“Worthy to be worshipp'd more;
“Master of a richer store,
“Of wealth and happiness?
460
XI
“Youth and age alike agree,“Serving and adoring thee,
“The source of hope and care:
“Care and hope alike engage
“The wary parent sunk in age
“And the restless heir.
XII
“She the maiden, half afraid,“Hears the new proposal made,
“That proceeds from Thee;
“You resign and hand her over
“To the rash and hardy lover
“With a fixt decree.
XIII
“Hymen, Hymen, you preside,“Maintaining honour and the pride
“Of women free from blame,
“With a solemn warrant given,
“Is there any power in heaven
“That can do the same?
XIV
“Love, accompanied by thee,“Passes unreproved and free,
“But without thee, not:
“Where on earth, or in the sky,
“Can you find a deity
“With a fairer lot?
XV
“Heirship in an honour'd line“Is sacred as a gift of thine,
“But without thee, not:
“Where on earth, or in the sky,
“Can you find a deity
“With a fairer lot?
XVI
“Rule and empire—royalty,“Are rightful, as derived from thee,
“But without thee, not:
461
“Can you find a deity
“With a fairer lot?”
XVII
Open locks! unbar the gate!Behold the ready troop that wait
The coming of the bride;
Behold the torches, how they flare!
Spreading aloft their sparkling hair,
Flashing far and wide.
XVIII
Lovely maiden! here we wasteThe timely moments;—Come in haste!
Come then. . . . Out, alack!
Startled at the glare and din,
She retires to weep within,
Lingering, hanging back.
XIX
Bashful honour and regret,For a while detain her yet,
Lingering, taking leave:
Taking leave and lingering still,
With a slow, reluctant will,
With grief that does not grieve.
XX
Aurunculeia, cease your tears,And when to-morrow's morn appears,
Fear not that the sun
Will dawn upon a fairer face,—
Nor in his airy, lofty race
Behold a lovelier one.
462
XXI
“Mark and hear us, gentle bride;“Behold the torches nimbly plied,
Waving here and there;
“Along the street and in the porch,
“See the fiery tressed torch,
“Spreads its sparkling hair.
XXII
“Like a lily, fair and chaste,“Lovely bride, you shall be placed
“In a garden gay,
“A wealthy lord's delight and pride;
“Come away then, happy bride,
“Hasten, hence away!
XXIII
“Mark and hear us—he your Lord,“Will be true at bed and board,
“Nor ever walk astray,
“Withdrawing from your lovely side;
“Mark and hear us, gentle bride,
“Hasten, hence away!
XXIV
“Like unto the tender vine,“He shall ever clasp and twine,
“Clinging night and day,
“Fairly bound and firmly tied;
“Come away then, happy bride,
“Hasten, hence away!
XXV
Happy chamber, happy bed,Can the joys be told or said
That await you soon;
Fresh renewals of delight,
In the silent fleeting night
And the summer noon.
463
XXVI
Make ready. There I see withinThe bride is veiled; the guests begin
To muster close and slow:
Trooping onward close about,
Boys, be ready with a shout—
“Hymen! Hymen! Ho!”
XXVII
Now begins the free career,—For many a jest and many a jeer,
And many a merry saw;
Customary taunts and gibes,
Such as ancient use prescribes,
And immemorial law.
XXVIII
“Some at home, it must be feared,“Will be slighted and cashiered,
“Pride will have a fall;
“Now the favourites' reign is o'er,
“Proud enough they were before,—
“Proud and nice withal.
XXIX
“Full of pride and full of scorn,Now you see them clipt and shorn,
“Humbler in array;
“Sent away, for fear of harm,
“To the village or the farm,—
“Packed in haste away.
XXX
“Other doings must be done,“Another empire is begun,
“Behold your own domain!
“Gentle bride! Behold it there!
“The lordly palace proud and fair:—
“You shall live and reign,
XXXI
“In that rich and noble house,“Till age shall silver o'er the brows,
“And nod the trembling head,
464
“Incessant uniform assent,
“To all that's done or said.
XXXII
“Let the faithful threshold greet,“With omens fair, those lovely feet,
“Lightly lifted o'er;
“Let the garlands wave and bow
“From the lofty lintel's brow
“That bedeck the door.”
XXXIII
See the couch with crimson dress—Where, seated in the deep recess,
With expectation warm,
The bridegroom views her coming near,—
The slender youth that led her here
May now release her arm.
XXXIV
With a fixt intense regardHe beholds her close and hard
In awful interview:
Shortly now she must be sped
To the chamber and the bed,
With attendance due.
XXXV
Let the ancient worthy wives,That have past their constant lives
With a single mate,
As befits advised age,
With council and precaution sage
Assist and regulate.
XXXVI
She the mistress of the bandComes again with high command,
“Bridegroom, go your way;
“There your bride is in the bower,
“Like a lovely lily flower,
“Or a rose in May.
465
XXXIX
“Ay, and you yourself in truth,“Are a goodly comely youth,
“Proper, tall, and fair;
“Venus and the Graces too,
“Have befriended each of you
“For a lovely pair.
XL
“There you go! may Venus bless,“Such as you with good success
“In the lawful track;
“You that, in an honest way,
“Purchase in the face of day,
“Whatsoe'er you lack.”
XLI
Sport your fill and never spare—Let us have an infant heir
Of the noble name;
Such a line should ever last,
As it has for ages past,
Another and the same.
XLII
Fear not! with the coming year,The new Torquatus will be here,
Him we soon shall see
With infant gesture fondly seek
To reach his father's manly cheek,
From his mother's knee.
XLIII
With laughing eyes and dewy lip,Pouting like the purple tip
That points the rose's bud;
While mingled with the mother's grace,
Strangers shall recognise the trace
That marks the Manlian blood.
466
XLIV
So the mother's fair renownShall betimes adorn and crown
The child with dignity,
As we read in stories old
Of Telemachus the bold,
And chaste Penelope.
XLV
Now the merry task is o'erLet us hence and close the door,
While loud adieus are paid;
“Live in honour, love and truth,
“And exercise your lusty youth,
“In matches fairly played.”
Carm. XCI.—Non ideo Gelli, &c.
Gellius, it never once was my design,In all that wretched, tedious love of mine,
To treat you as a worthy man or just,
Alive to shame, susceptible of trust,
In word or act true, faithful, or sincere;
But since that idol which my heart held dear
Was not your sister, niece, or near of kin,
The slight inducement of so small a sin
As broken faith to a confiding friend,
Would scarce, methought, allure you to descend
From those proud heights of wickedness sublime—
Giant ambition that aspires to climb
The topmost pinnacles of human guilt:—
—To make the mistress of your friend a jilt
Appear'd too poor a triumph. I was blind
To that perpetual relish which you find
In crimes of all degrees and every kind.
467
TRANSLATION FROM LOPE DE VEGA.
Madre unos ojuelos vi
Nigros alegres y bellos, &c.
Such a pair of black eyes as I saw yesterday—
So lively, so sparkling, so gentle and gay!
Dear mother, such things they were seeming to say;
They so taunted and teazed betwixt earnest and play:
They gave me such pleasure, so mingled with pain,
And oh! I am dying to see them again!
Lisbon, 1802.
FROM THE SPANISH OF GONZALO DE BERCEO.
Vida de San Millan, Stanzas 57, 63-65, 77 and 78.
He walk'd those mountains wild, and lived within that nook
For forty years and more, nor ever comfort took
Of offer'd food or alms, or human speech or look;
No other saint in Spain did such a penance brook.
For forty years and more, nor ever comfort took
Of offer'd food or alms, or human speech or look;
No other saint in Spain did such a penance brook.
And there I saw, myself, for so the chance befell,
Upon the mountain ledge, beside a springing well,
A hermitage of stone, a chapel and a cell,—
It is not yet destroy'd; he built it, as they tell.
Upon the mountain ledge, beside a springing well,
A hermitage of stone, a chapel and a cell,—
It is not yet destroy'd; he built it, as they tell.
For many a painful year he pass'd the seasons there,
And many a night consumed in penitence and prayer—
In solitude and cold, with want and evil fare,
His thoughts to God resign'd, and free from human care.
And many a night consumed in penitence and prayer—
In solitude and cold, with want and evil fare,
His thoughts to God resign'd, and free from human care.
468
Oh, sacred is that place, the fountain and the hill,
The rocks where he reposed, in meditation still;
The solitary shades, through which he roved at will,
His presence all that place with sanctity did fill.
The rocks where he reposed, in meditation still;
The solitary shades, through which he roved at will,
His presence all that place with sanctity did fill.
In every act a saint, in life's every feature,
Of controverted points no teacher or repeater;
Call'd by the voice of God, from the first hand of nature,
From childhood to his end, a pure and holy creature.
Of controverted points no teacher or repeater;
Call'd by the voice of God, from the first hand of nature,
From childhood to his end, a pure and holy creature.
In such guise as he could, and in such poor array,
Where or whence he had it, in truth, I cannot say,
He came down from the hills, and went forth on his way,
The road across the plain, to where the city lay.
Where or whence he had it, in truth, I cannot say,
He came down from the hills, and went forth on his way,
The road across the plain, to where the city lay.
There, leaning on his staff, he enter'd in the town,
His eyes upon the earth, his forehead bending down;
His beard was deep and large, his locks all overgrown,
So strange and rude a form they ne'er had seen anon.
His eyes upon the earth, his forehead bending down;
His beard was deep and large, his locks all overgrown,
So strange and rude a form they ne'er had seen anon.
FROM THE “DIANA” OF MONTE MAYOR.
Murio mi Madre en pariendo
Moça hermosa y mal lograda.
El ama que me dio leche,
Jamas tuvo dicha en nada, &c.
Moça hermosa y mal lograda.
El ama que me dio leche,
Jamas tuvo dicha en nada, &c.
My mother died to give me life—
I was born in sorrowing;
The very nurse that tended me
Was a poor ill-fated thing.
So have I been all my life,
In courtship and in marrying:
Love, so seeming sweet at first,
Left behind a secret sting;
469
And went, forsooth, to serve the king;
My father gave me to a churl,
For such wealth as he could bring.
Would he had given me to the grave,
With a shroud instead of a wedding-ring!
Jealousy couches by my side,
From bed-time to the fair morning.
When I wake he watches me;
When I rise he is on the wing—
Jealousy pursues my path,
To the fold and to the spring.
Jealousy besets me so,
That I can neither laugh nor sing:
I can neither look nor speak
For fear of false interpreting.
His countenance is never gay,
Always sour and threatening;
His looks still peering on one side—
No voice but angry muttering;
If I ask him what he ails,
He never answers anything.
TRANSLATION OF THE “ROMANCE DEL REY DE ARAGON.”
Miraba de Campo Veijo,
El Rey de Aragon un dia, &c.
The King of Aragon look'd down
From Campo Veijo, where he stood,
And he beheld the Sea of Spain,
Both the ebb-tide and the flood.
From Campo Veijo, where he stood,
And he beheld the Sea of Spain,
Both the ebb-tide and the flood.
He saw the gallies and the ships—
How some set sail and others enter;
Some were sailing on a cruize,
And others on a merchant's venture.
How some set sail and others enter;
Some were sailing on a cruize,
And others on a merchant's venture.
470
Some were sailing to Lombardy,
And some to Flanders, far away:
And, oh, how bright were the ships of war,
With swelling sails and streamers gay!
And some to Flanders, far away:
And, oh, how bright were the ships of war,
With swelling sails and streamers gay!
He saw the city that spread below—
Royal Naples, that noble town!
And the three castles, how they stood,
On the great city looking down:
Royal Naples, that noble town!
And the three castles, how they stood,
On the great city looking down:
The new castle and the Capuan,
And St. Elmo, far the best—
Like the sun at the noon day,
It shone so bright above the rest.
And St. Elmo, far the best—
Like the sun at the noon day,
It shone so bright above the rest.
The King stood silent for a while,
He gazed and wept at his own thought—
Oh, Naples, thou'rt a princely purchase,
But thou hast been dearly bought!
He gazed and wept at his own thought—
Oh, Naples, thou'rt a princely purchase,
But thou hast been dearly bought!
Many brave and loyal captains
You had cost, e'er you were won;
Besides a dear and valiant brother,
Whom I grieved for like a son,—
You had cost, e'er you were won;
Besides a dear and valiant brother,
Whom I grieved for like a son,—
Knights and gallant gentlemen,
Whose like I ne'er shall see again,
Of soldiers and of other subjects,
Many, many thousands slain;
Whose like I ne'er shall see again,
Of soldiers and of other subjects,
Many, many thousands slain;
Two-and-twenty years you cost me,
The best of my life that are pass'd away;
For here this beard began to grow,
And here it has been turn'd to grey.
The best of my life that are pass'd away;
For here this beard began to grow,
And here it has been turn'd to grey.
Madrid, 1804.
471
LINES WRITTEN AFTER VISITING THE MONASTERIES AT CATANIA.
“Li Beati singulari
Son poi mi di Regolari
Va vidite a Le Cunventi,
Ca su tutti ben contenti.”
—Vivu Mortu.
Son poi mi di Regolari
Va vidite a Le Cunventi,
Ca su tutti ben contenti.”
—Vivu Mortu.
Monks and holy clerks profest
Lead the sweetest and the best,
The securest life of all.
Look within the convent wall,
See the countenances there
Unannoy'd by worldly care,
Unaffected happy faces,
With the features and the traces
Of habitual tranquillity:
With the joyous affability
That bespeaks a heart and head,
Undisturb'd at board and bed,
Studious hours and holy rites,
Occupy their days and nights;
Study, learning, and devotion,
Leading onward to promotion;
Here discreet and trusty Friars,
Rule the Brotherhood as Priors;
Some are known as casuists,
Theologians, canonists;
One among them, here and there,
Rises to the prelate's chair.
Thence again his parts and knowledge,
Fix him in the sacred college,
With the robe of Cardinal;
Last—the topmost point of all—
The majestic throne of Pope,
Stands within the verge of hope:
That supreme and awful state,
Which the noble and the great
With devout obeisance greet,
Humbly falling at his feet.
Messina, Feb. 9, 1821.
472
TRANSLATION FROM FAUST.
Act III. Scene VII.
Mephistopheles.But I withdraw myself. I see
You've visitors of quality.
Martha.
Come get your best bred answer ready,
My dear, he takes you for a lady.
Margaret.
'Tis the good gentleman's good nature,—
I'm a poor harmless simple creature,
I've neither jewels, silk, nor lace;
I've nothing but my silly face.
Martha.
Ah! dress and jewels are not all,
But there's a style, an air withal,
An elegance—
Meph.
Well, if I may,
I'm glad that I'm allowed to stay.
Martha.
And what's your errand, tell me, pray?
Meph.
My worthy dame, if I could chuse,
I should have brought you better news:
But 'tis a promise, after all,
Your husband begg'd of me to call.
To give his best respects, he said
And to acquaint you—He was dead.
Martha.
What, dead! dear honest soul! And I—
I shan't survive it. I shall die.
Marg.
Good worthy mother, don't distract
Yourself.
Meph.
The melancholy fact
Is as I mentioned.
Marg.
Well, I vow,
For my part it would kill me now,—
I never should look up again.
Meph.
Pain follows pleasure—pleasure pain.
Martha.
But how? when did it happen? Say!
Meph.
Your husband lies in Padua,
In a fair churchyard open'd newly,
Enclosed and consecrated duly,
473
Accommodated under ground.
Martha.
You've brought me something, I suppose?
Meph.
Yes, when his life drew to a close
He trusted me with a commission
Of costly charge: his last petition,
As a memorial of the dead,
To have five hundred masses said.
Dec. 1835.
ÆSOP'S FABLE OF THE FROGS.
The Frogs time out of mindLived uncontroll'd.
Their form of government was undefined,
But reasons, strong and manifold,
Which then were given,
Induced them to demand a King from Heaven.
Jove heard the prayer—and, to fulfil it,
Threw them down a Log or Billet:
The Prince arrived with such a dash,
Coming down to take possession;
Frogs are easy to abash,
Their valour is diluted with discretion,—
In a word their hearts forsook them:
That instant they dissolved the Session,
Choosing the shortest way that took them
Down to the bottom of the Bog,—
Not one remain'd to cry, “God save King Log.”
There was an ancient flap-chapped Peer,
Nobly born
Of the best spawn;
At first he kept aloof from fear,
Waiting the close of all this storm,
Till things should take some settled form—
Like a great vassal,
In his castle,
With full-blown bags,
Intrench'd with lofty bullrushes and flags.
474
Made him draw near;
He saw him where he lay in state,
With a solidity and weight,
That bespoke him truly great.
Then came a shoal in quest of posts and charges,
Much like our ancient courtiers with their barges,
They ventured barely within reach,—
The Chancellor discharged a speech:
They waited for his majesty's reply,—
They waited a long, tedious, awkward space,
Then stared each other in the face,
And drew more nigh,—
Till growing bolder,
They leap'd upon the back and shoulder
Of their Stadholder.
The worthy monarch all that while
Was never seen to frown or smile,
He never looked, he never stirred,—
He never spoke a single word,
Bad or good.
It seem'd as if he neither heard
Nor understood.
The Frogs, like Russian nobles in such cases,
Reading each others' meaning in their faces,
Proceeded to the monarch's deposition,—
This act was followed by preferring
A new Petition
For a new Prince more active and more stirring.
The prayer was heard;
To make quick work,
Jove sent them down the Stork,
First cousin to the Secretary Bird.
His forte was business and despatch:
At the first snatch
He swallowed the Polonius of the Pool;
Then following Machiavelli's rule,
He fell upon the poor Marsh-landers,
Conscribing all that he could catch,
Trampling them down into the mud,
Confiscating their guts and blood,
475
The wretched frogs in their despair
Renewed their prayer;
And Jove in answer thundered this decree,—
“Since you could not agree,
“To live content and free,
“I sent you down a King of the best wood,
“Suited to your pacific brood;
“Your foolish pride
“Set him aside,
“This second was intended for a curse,—
“Be satisfied—or I shall find a worse.”
1810.
TRANSLATION FROM PROSPER AQUITANUS.
“Hinc arbitrium per devia lapsum
Claudiat, &c.”
v. 586.
The bewildered will,
Wanders in ways uncouth and stumbles still,
Never at rest, but ever in the wrong,
Yet eager, indefatigable, strong;
Within the Labyrinthine circle bound,
In every path of error pacing round,
Vain hope, illusive confidence attend,
And guide the victim to his destined end,—
Frantic he rushes on forbidden ground,
Falls in a snare and rises with a wound.
Nay, more to the distracted fallen will,
The grace that saves and heals appears to kill,
Suspending life and motion if applied.
No wonder—if a madman in his pride
Chases the kind physician from his side,
Loath to relinquish what his fever'd brain
Suggests of rank and power, to sink again
In weakness, want, and salutary pain.
Wanders in ways uncouth and stumbles still,
Never at rest, but ever in the wrong,
Yet eager, indefatigable, strong;
Within the Labyrinthine circle bound,
In every path of error pacing round,
Vain hope, illusive confidence attend,
And guide the victim to his destined end,—
Frantic he rushes on forbidden ground,
Falls in a snare and rises with a wound.
Nay, more to the distracted fallen will,
The grace that saves and heals appears to kill,
Suspending life and motion if applied.
No wonder—if a madman in his pride
Chases the kind physician from his side,
Loath to relinquish what his fever'd brain
Suggests of rank and power, to sink again
In weakness, want, and salutary pain.
See the primæval artifice renew'd,
The very fraud of Eden which imbued
The streams of life with poison. Oh, beware,
Heed not the subtle snake—avoid the snare,
Let not the flattering whisper tempt you now,
To feed on venom from the faded bough,—
Faded and broken, blighted at the fall,
Think not the evil diet will recall,
And nourish the Divine similitude,
The angelic form. So pestilent and crude,
It feeds their angry tumour, throbbing rife
In the proud flesh, and from the fruits of life
Drives them with loathing horror—forth they flee,
And with a rabid instinct shun the Tree.
The very fraud of Eden which imbued
476
Heed not the subtle snake—avoid the snare,
Let not the flattering whisper tempt you now,
To feed on venom from the faded bough,—
Faded and broken, blighted at the fall,
Think not the evil diet will recall,
And nourish the Divine similitude,
The angelic form. So pestilent and crude,
It feeds their angry tumour, throbbing rife
In the proud flesh, and from the fruits of life
Drives them with loathing horror—forth they flee,
And with a rabid instinct shun the Tree.
Pieta, Nov. 1821.
TRANSLATIONS OF SOME OF THE PSALMS OF DAVID.
480
PSALM I.
Blessed is He—the man that hath not walk'dIn the counsel of the reprobate, nor talk'd
With Sinners in the broad and beaten way:
Nor, with unsanctified and haughty sway,
Throned in the magisterial chair, presum'd
To censure and condemn what God hath doom'd.
But his delight is in that blessed Law,—
To find it holy, pure, and free from flaw;
His task, his recreation, his delight,
Both Even and Morn, and in the depths of Night.
So shall he prosper,—flourishing and free,
Like to the natural or the mystic tree,
Fast by the living waters; bringing forth
In his due season fruits of kindly worth,
Alms and oblations: while his very leaf
Shall whisper of repentance and belief
Mov'd by the Spirit of heav'n, and vocal made,
A living tongue,—it shall not fall nor fade.
Not so the ungodly.—When the winds arise
To scatter their inventions worldly wise,
Wafted in wild opinion to and fro,
With their atomic chaff,—away they go.
Therefore the curious spirits, idly bold,
Rash, sinful, insolent, shall stand controul'd,
With their exploded postulates uncouth,
In the firm Synod of eternal Truth.
The Lord is over all,—to mark and know
The spirit and heart and mind of all below,
He 'stablishes and confirms the good,—and ever
Confounds the unrighteous in their vain endeavour.
481
Psalm II. EASTER DAY.
Why do the nations rage and storm in vainWith insurrection furious and profane;
And Lo,—the Monarchs of the world are met!
Their ranks are muster'd, and their council set;
Princes and people—all with one accord
United in revolt against their Lord;
Against the Lord, and his anointed Son;
The purpose and design is ever one;
Whether tyrannic, or tumultuous,—still
Enthroning earthly Wisdom, Power and Will:
The last prerogative of human pride
Claim'd and avow'd,—to cast the bonds aside
Which fetter human action;—to be free
From Him the Almighty Eternal Enemy!
“Come—let us break the chain, and rend away
“These links of mental slavery”—Thus they say.—
He that abides in Heav'n,—surveys awhile
Their hideous uproar with an awful smile;
Till wrath divine,—long slumbering and supprest,
Rouses at length,—and each rebellious breast
Quell'd and appall'd,—attends the vast decree
Vouch'd in a voice of angry majesty.
“Yet shall He reign,—and He shall rule ye still
“Anointed and enthron'd on Sion's hill.”
He comes!—“I come the Teacher and the King,
“The Lawgiver; Jehovah's word I bring;
“He saith to me,—‘Mine only Son! this day
‘Begotten, avow'd and born; demand, and say;
‘Ask and obtain thy privilege of birth;
‘All tribes and tongues and every realm of earth!
‘Thou shalt control them with the Rule of Right;
‘As with an iron rod; to rive and smite
‘The reprobate; and like the potter's ware
‘Scatter asunder Empires here and there.’”
482
Of earthly powers!—Obedience and Belief
May yet avail you; but the time is brief;—
The warning is gone forth;—the event is near;
Be wise and learned;—Serve the Lord in fear!
Princes and Kings of earth salute the Son
With reverence, ere the tempest is begun;
The storm of fiery wrath; whose angry blaze
May snatch you wandering in forbidden ways
If it be rous'd and kindled; bless'd are all
That with a trembling hope await the call.
Psalm XXI. ASCENSION.
He shall rejoice, O Lord, our rightful King,Exulting in thy succour, conquering
The eternal enemy with Thy strength and aid.
—Sin, Death and Sorrow and Pain are captive made—
—His heart's desire thou grantest him—the scope
Of every supplication, prayer, and hope!
With bounty, and love, and favor overflowing,
With blessing thou preventest him; bestowing
On his anointed head, the regal ring
Incorruptible, as Conqueror, Priest and King!
The gold thereof is perfect; purified
Tormented in the furnace, prov'd and tried.
Life was the boon he sought; yet not to live
Alone; but life eternal didst thou give:
Great is his glory and praise, atchieved at length
In Thy salvation, with thy power and strength.
Thy countenance shall gladden him; and display
A second self; with delegated sway
Co-ordinate; a fountain, and a store,
Of mercy, and Hope, and Grace for evermore,
For all the nations! For his faith was tried;
For that his trust in Thee was testified;
483
Time without end, unshaken and alone!
King! Conqueror!—in thy wrath thou shalt arise
And thy right hand shall reach thine enemies
With ready vengeance—as the flames and heat,
That round the vaulted furnace rave and beat,
Enkindling and devouring all within;
Thy judgments shall consume the sons of sin,
The fuel of wrath, outrageous, fiery, rife,
With inextinguishable fury and strife
Kindled to self destruction; branch and root
Thou shalt eradicate them!—seed and fruit
Exterminated!—neither name nor place
Left upon earth—nor memory, nor trace!—
For why? the malice of their hearts was bent
Against Thy kingdom and name;—The vain intent
Is baffled, and recoils;—Thy vengeful bow,
Arm'd and up-rais'd, is visible below!—
Stunn'd and amaz'd, the thunder of the string,
Strikes on their ear, Thy shafts are on the wing!
O Lord, our succour in that fearful hour
Exalt Thyself in Thine own strength and Power;
So shall we praise Thy blessed name, and sing
Our Conqueror and Deliverer, Lord and King.
Psalm XXII. GOOD FRIDAY.
My God, my God, look on me! why dost thou—
In agony and distress—forsake me now,
Forlorn of help from thee?—my daily cry
Goes up before thy throne, O Lord, most high!
Incessant,—instant,—from the dawn of light,
And in the restless watches of the night:
But Thou remainest, stedfast, holy, pure,
Righteous, unchanged, and Thy decrees endure
Eternally predestin'd truly and well,
O Thou, the glory and praise of Israel!
Our Fathers hop'd in Thee; they cried and prayed
For help; and Thou didst grant them present aid;
They trusted and were holpen;—as for me
A worm and not a man—the last degree
Of deep debasement, ignominy, and scorn,
Oppresses me overwhelm'd and overborne—
An outcast of the people, a mark, a stock
For vulgar tongues and lips to taunt and mock;
Saying, “He trusted in his God to save him,
“Let God then interpose, if God will have him”—
Yes—Thou art He—that from my mother's womb
Deliveredst me to light,—my trust,—on whom
Whilst laid at rest upon the nursing breast,
My thoughts and hopes were daily and hourly dwelling:
Father and Lord in mercy and might excelling,
Whose glory and praise my lips were ever telling,
Leave me not here abandon'd and alone;
For trouble is hard at hand, and help is none!
In agony and distress—forsake me now,
Forlorn of help from thee?—my daily cry
Goes up before thy throne, O Lord, most high!
Incessant,—instant,—from the dawn of light,
And in the restless watches of the night:
But Thou remainest, stedfast, holy, pure,
Righteous, unchanged, and Thy decrees endure
Eternally predestin'd truly and well,
484
Our Fathers hop'd in Thee; they cried and prayed
For help; and Thou didst grant them present aid;
They trusted and were holpen;—as for me
A worm and not a man—the last degree
Of deep debasement, ignominy, and scorn,
Oppresses me overwhelm'd and overborne—
An outcast of the people, a mark, a stock
For vulgar tongues and lips to taunt and mock;
Saying, “He trusted in his God to save him,
“Let God then interpose, if God will have him”—
Yes—Thou art He—that from my mother's womb
Deliveredst me to light,—my trust,—on whom
Whilst laid at rest upon the nursing breast,
My thoughts and hopes were daily and hourly dwelling:
Father and Lord in mercy and might excelling,
Whose glory and praise my lips were ever telling,
Leave me not here abandon'd and alone;
For trouble is hard at hand, and help is none!
The bestial herd of Basan close me round,
In boisterous outrage, with a savage sound
Of rage and outcry, like the lion's howl,
And eyes and gestures eager, fierce and foul—
And there I stand amongst them!—silent, slow,
Weak as the very water; faint and low;
My bones are out of joint; my heart within
Melts as the wax; my lips and tongue begin
To shrivel and wither with the parching breath—
And thou shalt bring me to the dust of death!—
The bloody dogs, the unclean are in the crowd!
With the hypocritic Elders stern and proud—
My feet and hands are pierc'd, and every bone
Naked and bare, and counted one by one!
In empty wonderment they gather round,
Gazing upon me, watching every wound!—
My garments are shar'd out—my vest unrent
Stak'd as a prize, with ribald merriment!—
But be not Thou far from me, O God my strength!
Father and Lord! incline thine ear at length—
Haste Thee to help me; save my soul from scath
Of fiendish rage; and thine appointed wrath,
The sword of Eden brandish'd early and long!—
So shall I praise Thee with a joyful song
Of victory and redemption; and proclaim
Thy justice and Thy mercies and Thy name
Amongst the brethren—Ye that fear the Lord!
Sons of the chosen seed! with one accord
Magnify and praise his name, with love and awe!
Sons of the covenant and of the law!
Children of Jacob and of Israel!
For ye can witness well,—that he the Lord
Hath not abhorr'd—nor shunn'd the deep infliction,
That dreadful interdiction undergoing,
His tears in anguish flowing, and his cry
Were heard and seen on high; the Almighty face
Was turn'd to pity and grace,—and pardon given,
And ratified in heaven!—A louder voice
Shall summon to rejoice, a congregation
From many a tribe and nation; wider far;
From where the appointed star
Leads forth the mystic eastern Sages hoar;
E'en to the silent, shady, western shore;
The guests are marshall'd, and the banquet spread,
With heavenly wine and bread—The bread of life!
Without restraint or strife, or fear, or sadness,
In singleness of heart, with love and gladness;
A company which death shall not dissever—
They share the food which leads to life for ever.
Lastly, the extremest tribes and every race
In boisterous outrage, with a savage sound
Of rage and outcry, like the lion's howl,
And eyes and gestures eager, fierce and foul—
And there I stand amongst them!—silent, slow,
Weak as the very water; faint and low;
My bones are out of joint; my heart within
Melts as the wax; my lips and tongue begin
To shrivel and wither with the parching breath—
And thou shalt bring me to the dust of death!—
The bloody dogs, the unclean are in the crowd!
With the hypocritic Elders stern and proud—
My feet and hands are pierc'd, and every bone
Naked and bare, and counted one by one!
In empty wonderment they gather round,
Gazing upon me, watching every wound!—
My garments are shar'd out—my vest unrent
Stak'd as a prize, with ribald merriment!—
485
Father and Lord! incline thine ear at length—
Haste Thee to help me; save my soul from scath
Of fiendish rage; and thine appointed wrath,
The sword of Eden brandish'd early and long!—
So shall I praise Thee with a joyful song
Of victory and redemption; and proclaim
Thy justice and Thy mercies and Thy name
Amongst the brethren—Ye that fear the Lord!
Sons of the chosen seed! with one accord
Magnify and praise his name, with love and awe!
Sons of the covenant and of the law!
Children of Jacob and of Israel!
For ye can witness well,—that he the Lord
Hath not abhorr'd—nor shunn'd the deep infliction,
That dreadful interdiction undergoing,
His tears in anguish flowing, and his cry
Were heard and seen on high; the Almighty face
Was turn'd to pity and grace,—and pardon given,
And ratified in heaven!—A louder voice
Shall summon to rejoice, a congregation
From many a tribe and nation; wider far;
From where the appointed star
Leads forth the mystic eastern Sages hoar;
E'en to the silent, shady, western shore;
The guests are marshall'd, and the banquet spread,
With heavenly wine and bread—The bread of life!
Without restraint or strife, or fear, or sadness,
In singleness of heart, with love and gladness;
A company which death shall not dissever—
They share the food which leads to life for ever.
Of the World's utmost space,
Spelling aright,—the words of truth and light
Through dark confus'd tradition long abus'd,
Shall turn anew;—to recollect the true
Saviour—and Sacrifice,—and Child of Heaven,
—The great primæval Hope and Promise given!
The Lord is ruler; every Realm of earth
486
Subdued and quell'd,—beneath his awful sway;
Princes and kings obey; the noble and great
Sages and Chiefs of State, with humble cheer
Attend the table in fear; or serve and wait:
Bashful and late, the sad rejected Seed,
From guilt and error freed, return at length;
To be renew'd in strength, a mighty nation;
Again accounted as a generation,
Enroll'd and register'd before the Lord,
Upon the great record;—to testify
Of the Most High; the deeds which he hath done;
Pardon and grace with mighty struggles won,
And glory and rule ordain'd; for him the anointed
Amidst a race pre-destin'd and appointed.
Psalm XLV. CHRISTMAS DAY.
My thoughts burst forth, even as a boiling spring;
As a full flowing course of ready writing;
From the deep source inditing,
The glory and praise of our anointed King:
As a full flowing course of ready writing;
From the deep source inditing,
The glory and praise of our anointed King:
Thy form, O King! is fairer, and thy face,
Than the degraded, earthly, fallen Race;
Thy lips are full of Wisdom, Truth, and Grace;
For He, the Lord hath blessed thee for ever.
Gird and prepare Thee, for the great endeavour;
Gird and prepare, the sword upon thy thigh,
Oh, Thou Most High!
With glory and majesty
Ride prosperously forth; with pity and ruth,
Justice and Mercy, Righteousness and Truth,
The strength of thy right hand shall counsel thee;
Framing the final Covenant and Law,
The Mystic Bow; the work of wonder and awe,
Which hands almighty alone, can bend and draw.
From the tremendous string,
What fearful echoes ring,
Touches and tones of the celestial weapon:
To those that gather round,
Thy faithful followers found,
With no discordant sound they rise and deepen:
While through the world are seen
The winged volleys keen,
Shattering its frail defences, piercing, rending,
Incessant on the mingled host descending,
A living shower of flame, each fiery dart
Sped with unerring aim, to search the reins and heart.
Than the degraded, earthly, fallen Race;
Thy lips are full of Wisdom, Truth, and Grace;
For He, the Lord hath blessed thee for ever.
Gird and prepare Thee, for the great endeavour;
Gird and prepare, the sword upon thy thigh,
Oh, Thou Most High!
With glory and majesty
Ride prosperously forth; with pity and ruth,
Justice and Mercy, Righteousness and Truth,
The strength of thy right hand shall counsel thee;
Framing the final Covenant and Law,
The Mystic Bow; the work of wonder and awe,
Which hands almighty alone, can bend and draw.
487
What fearful echoes ring,
Touches and tones of the celestial weapon:
To those that gather round,
Thy faithful followers found,
With no discordant sound they rise and deepen:
While through the world are seen
The winged volleys keen,
Shattering its frail defences, piercing, rending,
Incessant on the mingled host descending,
A living shower of flame, each fiery dart
Sped with unerring aim, to search the reins and heart.
Thy throne, O God! for ever and for ever,
Is fixt—nor years, nor earthly time, shall sever
The sceptre from thy grasp—Our King our God!
Just is thy sceptre, righteous is thy rod!
For in thy secret heart, and inmost sense,
Hatred of sin, deep hatred, and intense
Was prov'd, in shame, and agony, and distress,
Triumphant in the zeal of righteousness.
Is fixt—nor years, nor earthly time, shall sever
The sceptre from thy grasp—Our King our God!
Just is thy sceptre, righteous is thy rod!
For in thy secret heart, and inmost sense,
Hatred of sin, deep hatred, and intense
Was prov'd, in shame, and agony, and distress,
Triumphant in the zeal of righteousness.
Therefore even he thy God, with regal unction
Of grace and gladness, to thy rightful function
Hath raised thee, with supreme investiture—
Anointed, consecrated, holy, pure,
Inaugurate in perfect majesty:
A visible earthly present Deity!
From the rich unguent shed
Upon thy sacred head,
A wide perfume is spread—thy robes of state
Waft odours, that proclaim
From whence the tribute came;
In just obedience from the wise and great,
Proud halls, and ivory domes of Eastern kings,
Have sent their precious things,
To gladden thee with homage and adore;
Myrrh, nard, and cassia from the spicy shore;
Such gifts as sooth'd thine infant heart before.
Of grace and gladness, to thy rightful function
Hath raised thee, with supreme investiture—
Anointed, consecrated, holy, pure,
Inaugurate in perfect majesty:
A visible earthly present Deity!
From the rich unguent shed
Upon thy sacred head,
A wide perfume is spread—thy robes of state
Waft odours, that proclaim
From whence the tribute came;
In just obedience from the wise and great,
Proud halls, and ivory domes of Eastern kings,
Have sent their precious things,
To gladden thee with homage and adore;
Myrrh, nard, and cassia from the spicy shore;
Such gifts as sooth'd thine infant heart before.
Daughters of Kings, of comely garb and hue,
Stand in attendance due—Thy Bride and Queen
Pre-eminent is seen, in stately vesture,
In stature, form, and mien, in princely gesture,
And comeliness of look surpassing all;
Within the regal hall preferr'd to stand,
At thy right hand, distinct in rich array,
Rich with the gold of Ophir, purified,
Refin'd, and fully tried with hard assay.
Hear and attend, O Daughter! Bride! and Queen!
Mark and attend!—forget what thou hast been;
Thy name, thy nation, and thy father's house,
Thy customary vows, and wonted duty;
So shall the king have pleasure in thy beauty:
Him shalt thou worship, honour'd and ador'd
With other rites, thy Saviour and thy Lord!
Stand in attendance due—Thy Bride and Queen
488
In stature, form, and mien, in princely gesture,
And comeliness of look surpassing all;
Within the regal hall preferr'd to stand,
At thy right hand, distinct in rich array,
Rich with the gold of Ophir, purified,
Refin'd, and fully tried with hard assay.
Hear and attend, O Daughter! Bride! and Queen!
Mark and attend!—forget what thou hast been;
Thy name, thy nation, and thy father's house,
Thy customary vows, and wonted duty;
So shall the king have pleasure in thy beauty:
Him shalt thou worship, honour'd and ador'd
With other rites, thy Saviour and thy Lord!
Yet She too with her offering shall be seen,
The tributary Queen, Daughter of Tyre;
That with her ample hire, and worldly dower;
Sagacious of the coming hour, had wrought;
And pearls of price with thrifty purchase bought;
And plac'd with wary trust, her wealthy store,
Where neither moth nor rust corrupt for evermore.
The tributary Queen, Daughter of Tyre;
That with her ample hire, and worldly dower;
Sagacious of the coming hour, had wrought;
And pearls of price with thrifty purchase bought;
And plac'd with wary trust, her wealthy store,
Where neither moth nor rust corrupt for evermore.
Behold in royal pride
The glorious happy bride,
In woven gold magnificently drest;
Her gorgeous outer robe and inner vest
With mystic forms imprest;
Forms which the painful needle long had wrought
With subtle labour to perfection brought.
The glorious happy bride,
In woven gold magnificently drest;
Her gorgeous outer robe and inner vest
With mystic forms imprest;
Forms which the painful needle long had wrought
With subtle labour to perfection brought.
Yet see with livelier air
Her young companions fair,
Harmless and joyous, innocent of care,
Fearless of fraud or guile, guiltless of malice,
With sportive easy cheer, and airy sallies,
They pass the court, and enter at the Palace;
A fair approval meeting;
Applauded and receiv'd with kindly greeting.
Her young companions fair,
Harmless and joyous, innocent of care,
Fearless of fraud or guile, guiltless of malice,
With sportive easy cheer, and airy sallies,
They pass the court, and enter at the Palace;
A fair approval meeting;
Applauded and receiv'd with kindly greeting.
Think, then, no more of thine ancestral glory,
The Sages and the Saints of ancient story,
Prophets and Kings—look to the future race,
Ordained to nobler things—A wider space
Of Empire and command, in other times,
Stretching in ample climes unknown before.
The Sages and the Saints of ancient story,
489
Ordained to nobler things—A wider space
Of Empire and command, in other times,
Stretching in ample climes unknown before.
For me, thy Name and praise for evermore
Shall be my theme—a song for future days,
When thy supreme and undivided claim
Of Empire every realm of earth shall bless
And magnify and confess Thy mighty name.
Shall be my theme—a song for future days,
When thy supreme and undivided claim
Of Empire every realm of earth shall bless
And magnify and confess Thy mighty name.
Psalm LXVIII. WHIT-SUNDAY.
Let God arise!
And let his enemies
Be scattered and disperst!
The unrighteous, reprobate, profane, accurst!
Let them that hate him flee before His face;
As when the winds of Heaven, with easy chace
Pursue the smoky blot that taints the sky
(In vain aspiring high
Rising and reeking from this earthly spot)
The feeble fumes that waver and dissever,
Vanish at once away dissolv'd for ever;
Or as the mass of wax within the fire
Sinks shapeless and dissolv'd, thy fervent ire,
Shall melt their hearts with horror and dismay:
So shall they perish, shrink and waste away;
The righteous shall behold it, and rejoice
Before the Lord, with cheerful heart and voice:
Praise ye the Lord in his ineffable name
Jah; the maintainer of this earthly frame;
Ruling and riding on the wheeling sphere
Like a strong horseman; curbing its career,
Bound through the barren empty tracts of space;
Thy providence and power shall also trace
A path before Thee, thro' the tracts of time:
And marshal forth the eventful march sublime,
Pacing the void of blank futurity—
God shall accomplish it. The Father He
Of all the destitute; to save and bless
The widows, the forlorn, the fatherless,
The solitary souls inur'd to chains
Planting them forth among the pleasant plains
To dwell in happy families and tribes;
But other destiny and abode prescribes
For the rebellious, barren, hard and bare,
With hunger and cold, with scanty and evil fare.
And let his enemies
Be scattered and disperst!
The unrighteous, reprobate, profane, accurst!
Let them that hate him flee before His face;
As when the winds of Heaven, with easy chace
Pursue the smoky blot that taints the sky
(In vain aspiring high
Rising and reeking from this earthly spot)
The feeble fumes that waver and dissever,
Vanish at once away dissolv'd for ever;
Or as the mass of wax within the fire
Sinks shapeless and dissolv'd, thy fervent ire,
Shall melt their hearts with horror and dismay:
So shall they perish, shrink and waste away;
The righteous shall behold it, and rejoice
Before the Lord, with cheerful heart and voice:
Praise ye the Lord in his ineffable name
Jah; the maintainer of this earthly frame;
Ruling and riding on the wheeling sphere
Like a strong horseman; curbing its career,
Bound through the barren empty tracts of space;
Thy providence and power shall also trace
A path before Thee, thro' the tracts of time:
And marshal forth the eventful march sublime,
490
God shall accomplish it. The Father He
Of all the destitute; to save and bless
The widows, the forlorn, the fatherless,
The solitary souls inur'd to chains
Planting them forth among the pleasant plains
To dwell in happy families and tribes;
But other destiny and abode prescribes
For the rebellious, barren, hard and bare,
With hunger and cold, with scanty and evil fare.
Lord, when thou wentest forth, their mighty and dread
Sovereign and Chief; their covenanted Head;
Rescuing the sons of Jacob from distress;
When thou didst march amidst the wilderness,
Veiling thy glories in an earthly tent;
The solid earth did quake; the firmament
Stood shrouded and appall'd; seeming to weep,
Blotting the soil with heavy drops and deep
—Drops of atoning sorrow from above—
And Sinai's mighty Rock was seen to move,
Bowing his antient hoary form sublime,
Mysterious, rooted in the abyss of time.
But on Thine heritage, Thou didst diffuse
A gracious shower of heavenly and holy dews;
Cheering the famish'd hearts forlorn and weary;
Appointing in the desert parch'd and dreary,
A place of rest, a plenteous habitation
For Thine own flock, Thy chosen congregation—
God gave the word—a mighty multitude
Moved forth at once, with faith and hope endued;
Invested in the panoply divine;
Train'd and arrayed in saintly discipline;
—A noble army of Martyrs—forth they went,
That (with the sound and sight, and summons sent)
Kings and embattled hosts in panic haste
Fled headlong—wide apart, disperst and chas'd;
Enriching humble households with the spoil
Of Heathen pride; without fatigue or toil,
Sharing at home the gain of godliness.
Long have ye lain in torture and distress,
The furnace of affliction; soon to rise,
Lustrous as gold or silver, with the dies
That wander o'er the changeful Dove and deck
Her silver wings, and gold-enamel'd neck:
Bright, pure, and ever welcome, such as she
Heralds of peace and safety shall ye be—
In the full triumph, Salmon's western height
Shines forth, enrob'd in pure and snowy white
The token of victory—proud Basan stands
Far eastward, overlooking heathen lands
With lofty ranges of superb ascent,
Lordly, majestical, magnificent,
Sources of health, and living springs of life,
Each in his region—but forbear the strife
Ye mighty and haughty Mountains! be not moved
Though Sion's hill be chosen and approv'd
Even as the saintly Sinai was before,
More honoured, better loved, and cherish'd more—
Even as at Sinai, there the Lord shall be
The Lord of Hosts, with might and majesty,
With fiery ministers, and cars of flame
Myriads of myriads—with a loud acclaim
In Heaven and Earth—The Lord is risen on high!
Destroying Death, leading captivity
Captive and bound; large ransom doth he give
Even for his enemies to be sav'd and live
To praise and honour Him—Here His throne and place
Are stablish'd.—Hence He deals His gifts of grace
In kingly largess—Hence He shall subdue
The rugged-headed, rude, rebellious crew
Perverse and hard, marring their shaggy crown
With His harsh sceptre, bruis'd and beaten down—
“Yet once again” the Lord hath said—“once more
“As from the field of Basan heretofore
“Will I lead forth my people ransom-free
“Rescued from labor and captivity
“From the overwhelming multitudinous sea
“To the rich purchase of fair victory
“Their promis'd land.” Thy feet shall print the ground
With bloody traces—thy familiar hound
Shall tinge his tongue with carnage.—Pomp and state,
Praises and Hymns upon Thy triumph wait,
Conqueror and Lord, and leader of the tribes!
As holy pure magnific use prescribes.
First in the march the solemn singers go
Mounting in even rank, and cadence slow;
The thronging Minstrels crowd the rear below;
And in the midst, a goodly troop and fair,
With the light timbrel tost and wav'd in air,
Are seen ascending on the sacred hill,
With happy virgin voices pure and shrill.
Praise ye the Lord in holy congregations,
Praise ye the Lord aloud among the nations,
Your kindred Chief, the stream from Jacob's well;
The Scion of the root of Israel—
There might the little Benjamin preside
Their humble early Ruler—or the Pride
Of princely Judah with his Peers of State,
Or from remoter Regions, grave and great,
Counsellors, Sages, Rulers, many a one,
Wise Nepthali, the wealthy Zabulon:
But he the Lord hath sent thee forth in strength,
Strengthen, O Lord, Thy work; assert at length
Thine own dominion; what Thy power hath wrought
Fix and confirm it to fulfilment brought:
That other Kings and Chiefs may bend the knee,
Prone and adoring; suppliant to thee
With offer'd tribute for Thy temple's sake:
When in Thy wrath Thou shalt rebuke and break
The multitude of Spearmen, and the Beast,
Hideous and huge in loathly bulk increast,
That haunts the sultry Memphian's River's edge,
Weltering and battening in the bristled sedge;
(The people of Priests, the formal haughty line,
That with the clinking silver glance and shine
The dull idolaters of Calves and Kine—)
Then shall the Lords and Chiefs of Egypt stand
And stretch before Thee the submissive hand
In supplication and surrender due:
And Ethiopia's Queen shall turn anew,
To worship in thy precincts; to behold
Thy rich array, the pomp of power and gold;
And marvels of Thy wisdom widely told—
Sing to the Lord, ye realms of Earth, O Sing
The praises of your King, in Heaven abiding,
Upon the wheeling spheres in glory riding
Before all ages, years, or earthly time,
Eternal and sublime; He sendeth forth
An image of his worth; the Eternal word
Our delegated Lord, a mighty voice,
Bidding his Saints rejoice; proclaim and tell
That here in Israel, the Lord hath placed
His temple and throne, and with His presence graced
This land alone—His power and majesty
Stretches above the sky, but Israel!
Within thy sacred cell, to daunt thy foes;
What awe does it disclose, what terrors carry,
Enshrin'd and shrouded in thy Sanctuary!
—Chaunt forth in loud accord
The glad triumphant word
Praised be the Lord for ever. Praise the Lord.
Sovereign and Chief; their covenanted Head;
Rescuing the sons of Jacob from distress;
When thou didst march amidst the wilderness,
Veiling thy glories in an earthly tent;
The solid earth did quake; the firmament
Stood shrouded and appall'd; seeming to weep,
Blotting the soil with heavy drops and deep
—Drops of atoning sorrow from above—
And Sinai's mighty Rock was seen to move,
Bowing his antient hoary form sublime,
Mysterious, rooted in the abyss of time.
But on Thine heritage, Thou didst diffuse
A gracious shower of heavenly and holy dews;
Cheering the famish'd hearts forlorn and weary;
Appointing in the desert parch'd and dreary,
A place of rest, a plenteous habitation
For Thine own flock, Thy chosen congregation—
God gave the word—a mighty multitude
Moved forth at once, with faith and hope endued;
Invested in the panoply divine;
Train'd and arrayed in saintly discipline;
—A noble army of Martyrs—forth they went,
That (with the sound and sight, and summons sent)
Kings and embattled hosts in panic haste
Fled headlong—wide apart, disperst and chas'd;
Enriching humble households with the spoil
Of Heathen pride; without fatigue or toil,
Sharing at home the gain of godliness.
Long have ye lain in torture and distress,
491
Lustrous as gold or silver, with the dies
That wander o'er the changeful Dove and deck
Her silver wings, and gold-enamel'd neck:
Bright, pure, and ever welcome, such as she
Heralds of peace and safety shall ye be—
In the full triumph, Salmon's western height
Shines forth, enrob'd in pure and snowy white
The token of victory—proud Basan stands
Far eastward, overlooking heathen lands
With lofty ranges of superb ascent,
Lordly, majestical, magnificent,
Sources of health, and living springs of life,
Each in his region—but forbear the strife
Ye mighty and haughty Mountains! be not moved
Though Sion's hill be chosen and approv'd
Even as the saintly Sinai was before,
More honoured, better loved, and cherish'd more—
Even as at Sinai, there the Lord shall be
The Lord of Hosts, with might and majesty,
With fiery ministers, and cars of flame
Myriads of myriads—with a loud acclaim
In Heaven and Earth—The Lord is risen on high!
Destroying Death, leading captivity
Captive and bound; large ransom doth he give
Even for his enemies to be sav'd and live
To praise and honour Him—Here His throne and place
Are stablish'd.—Hence He deals His gifts of grace
In kingly largess—Hence He shall subdue
The rugged-headed, rude, rebellious crew
Perverse and hard, marring their shaggy crown
With His harsh sceptre, bruis'd and beaten down—
“Yet once again” the Lord hath said—“once more
“As from the field of Basan heretofore
“Will I lead forth my people ransom-free
“Rescued from labor and captivity
“From the overwhelming multitudinous sea
“To the rich purchase of fair victory
“Their promis'd land.” Thy feet shall print the ground
With bloody traces—thy familiar hound
Shall tinge his tongue with carnage.—Pomp and state,
492
Conqueror and Lord, and leader of the tribes!
As holy pure magnific use prescribes.
First in the march the solemn singers go
Mounting in even rank, and cadence slow;
The thronging Minstrels crowd the rear below;
And in the midst, a goodly troop and fair,
With the light timbrel tost and wav'd in air,
Are seen ascending on the sacred hill,
With happy virgin voices pure and shrill.
Praise ye the Lord in holy congregations,
Praise ye the Lord aloud among the nations,
Your kindred Chief, the stream from Jacob's well;
The Scion of the root of Israel—
There might the little Benjamin preside
Their humble early Ruler—or the Pride
Of princely Judah with his Peers of State,
Or from remoter Regions, grave and great,
Counsellors, Sages, Rulers, many a one,
Wise Nepthali, the wealthy Zabulon:
But he the Lord hath sent thee forth in strength,
Strengthen, O Lord, Thy work; assert at length
Thine own dominion; what Thy power hath wrought
Fix and confirm it to fulfilment brought:
That other Kings and Chiefs may bend the knee,
Prone and adoring; suppliant to thee
With offer'd tribute for Thy temple's sake:
When in Thy wrath Thou shalt rebuke and break
The multitude of Spearmen, and the Beast,
Hideous and huge in loathly bulk increast,
That haunts the sultry Memphian's River's edge,
Weltering and battening in the bristled sedge;
(The people of Priests, the formal haughty line,
That with the clinking silver glance and shine
The dull idolaters of Calves and Kine—)
Then shall the Lords and Chiefs of Egypt stand
And stretch before Thee the submissive hand
In supplication and surrender due:
And Ethiopia's Queen shall turn anew,
To worship in thy precincts; to behold
Thy rich array, the pomp of power and gold;
493
Sing to the Lord, ye realms of Earth, O Sing
The praises of your King, in Heaven abiding,
Upon the wheeling spheres in glory riding
Before all ages, years, or earthly time,
Eternal and sublime; He sendeth forth
An image of his worth; the Eternal word
Our delegated Lord, a mighty voice,
Bidding his Saints rejoice; proclaim and tell
That here in Israel, the Lord hath placed
His temple and throne, and with His presence graced
This land alone—His power and majesty
Stretches above the sky, but Israel!
Within thy sacred cell, to daunt thy foes;
What awe does it disclose, what terrors carry,
Enshrin'd and shrouded in thy Sanctuary!
—Chaunt forth in loud accord
The glad triumphant word
Praised be the Lord for ever. Praise the Lord.
PSALM XC.
Before the solid mountains were upraised,Heaved from the teeming earth to light and air,
Or that firm surface of the land appeared,
Or habitable earth, cheerful and fair,
Thou Lord abidest ever first and last,
The Eternal Future and the Eternal Past,
Sovereign and Judge; in thy predestined plan,
494
Again the word is uttered—Turn again,
Inhabitants of earth; children of men!
Yes! for a thousand years are, in Thy sight,
As a brief interval passing away,
Like the neglected hours of yesterday,
Or unregarded watches of the night.
Thy floods have overborne them; and they seem,
Their whole existence, memory, name, and place,
All vanished like a vision in a dream—
Sunk and extinct, an unremember'd race.
As the fresh grass, that in the summer air
Flourishes rank and free, lusty and fair,
It waxes wanton in its growth of pride;
But the destroyer comes at even-tide,
With his fell weapon; there it lies at length,
Stripped of its beauty and strength, wasted and dried.
JUDGES.
Chap. V. v. 9—13.
I love the noble and the great,
The learned and the wise,
Ready to rouse and animate,
Ready to share the common fate,
The common enterprise:
Join me then with frank accord,
Join to praise and bless the Lord.
The learned and the wise,
Ready to rouse and animate,
Ready to share the common fate,
The common enterprise:
Join me then with frank accord,
Join to praise and bless the Lord.
Ye that on pacers snowy white,
Are wont to ride, a comely sight—
Or on the judgment-seat
Sit with a grave and steady cheer,
Or move majestic and severe,
Thoughtful and awful in the street,
Let your daily duties cease—
Noisy debates and petty pleas,
For drawing water from a well,
Proclaim aloud in Israel,
Jehovah's judgments and decrees,
The statutes of Jehovah's reign,
His bounty to the villages,
The vassals of his own domain;
Proclaim them where this people wait
As suitors at the city gate.
Are wont to ride, a comely sight—
Or on the judgment-seat
495
Or move majestic and severe,
Thoughtful and awful in the street,
Let your daily duties cease—
Noisy debates and petty pleas,
For drawing water from a well,
Proclaim aloud in Israel,
Jehovah's judgments and decrees,
The statutes of Jehovah's reign,
His bounty to the villages,
The vassals of his own domain;
Proclaim them where this people wait
As suitors at the city gate.
Rouse, rouse thee, Deborah, raise,
Loud and high, the song of praise;
Barak, in thy manly worth,
Son of Abinoam, stand forth,
A captive and a refugee,
Advanced to power and victory,
Henceforth appointed to command
Among the nobles of the land:
For me, Jehovah will afford
Counsel and succour: He, the Lord
Will prosper and direct by me
The mighty chiefs of victory.
Loud and high, the song of praise;
Barak, in thy manly worth,
Son of Abinoam, stand forth,
A captive and a refugee,
Advanced to power and victory,
Henceforth appointed to command
Among the nobles of the land:
For me, Jehovah will afford
Counsel and succour: He, the Lord
Will prosper and direct by me
The mighty chiefs of victory.
496
ECCLESIASTES.
Chap. VII. v. 6.
The mirth of fools, somewhere the preacher says,Is like the cracking thorns when in a blaze;
So unsubstantial are their liveliest joys,
Made up of thoughtless levity and noise:
Tho' at the first the mantling flame looks bright,
'Tis but a momentary glare of light,
With nothing solid to sustain the fire,
It quickly sinks, and all their joys expire.
1801.
THE END.
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