 | The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison |  |
165
The Battle of the Pygmies and Cranes.
Translated from the Latin of Mr. Addison.
Contending Troops, and Fields of Death I sing,
Ye tuneful Nine your sacred Succour bring,
In Arms my Pygmy-Sons of Fame prepare,
And rouze the Cranic Furies to the War;
Their Acts, their Valour, and their Worth rehearse,
And let their slaughter'd Heroes live in Verse.
Ye tuneful Nine your sacred Succour bring,
In Arms my Pygmy-Sons of Fame prepare,
And rouze the Cranic Furies to the War;
166
And let their slaughter'd Heroes live in Verse.
The Wrath of Peleus' Son, the Golden Fleece,
With all the num'rous labour'd Themes of Greece,
Long since exhausted, are too vulgar grown,
To shine in any Colours but their own;
Who does not know the pious Prince of Troy?
And William's Triumphs ev'ry Tongue employ:
Whilst in reviving Numbers I pursue,
A Theme less Glorious, but a Theme more new;
Wars yet unsung, and Warriours yet unknown,
Rush thro' the Fields of Air my Brow to crown.
With all the num'rous labour'd Themes of Greece,
Long since exhausted, are too vulgar grown,
To shine in any Colours but their own;
Who does not know the pious Prince of Troy?
And William's Triumphs ev'ry Tongue employ:
Whilst in reviving Numbers I pursue,
A Theme less Glorious, but a Theme more new;
Wars yet unsung, and Warriours yet unknown,
Rush thro' the Fields of Air my Brow to crown.
Where
Indian Groves their warmer Shades display,
Blest with the earliest Influence of the Day,
Deep in a Vale, by Nature's Hand secur'd,
With Woods defended, and with Rocks immur'd,
In happier Days indulgent Fate design'd
To fix the Empire of the Pygmy Kind:
Here long in easy State the Nation reign'd,
Soft Peace indulging what their Toils obtain'd.
O happy had it known an happy Life,
Serene from Cares, and unally'd to Strife:
But heedless Mortals ever blind to Fate,
Rush on impenitently, wise too late!
For now the tender-hearted Traveller,
Weeping, beholds the sad Effects of War;
No more he views, alas! with sweet Surprize,
The early Hopes of future Empires rise:
But O! the miserable Turn of Fate,
Presents reverse, a ruinated State;
Skulls, broken Arms, a pallid Horrour spread,
The wretched Ruins of the mighty Dead!
While with insulting Pride the Cranic Foe
Menaces Vengeance on the Bones below:
Triumphantly the screaming Tyrants reign,
And proudly lord it o'er th' unpeopled Plain.
Blest with the earliest Influence of the Day,
Deep in a Vale, by Nature's Hand secur'd,
With Woods defended, and with Rocks immur'd,
167
To fix the Empire of the Pygmy Kind:
Here long in easy State the Nation reign'd,
Soft Peace indulging what their Toils obtain'd.
O happy had it known an happy Life,
Serene from Cares, and unally'd to Strife:
But heedless Mortals ever blind to Fate,
Rush on impenitently, wise too late!
For now the tender-hearted Traveller,
Weeping, beholds the sad Effects of War;
No more he views, alas! with sweet Surprize,
The early Hopes of future Empires rise:
But O! the miserable Turn of Fate,
Presents reverse, a ruinated State;
Skulls, broken Arms, a pallid Horrour spread,
The wretched Ruins of the mighty Dead!
While with insulting Pride the Cranic Foe
Menaces Vengeance on the Bones below:
Triumphantly the screaming Tyrants reign,
And proudly lord it o'er th' unpeopled Plain.
168
Not thus they dar'd when happier Days of Yore,
Loudly confess'd the potent Pygmies Power:
How timorously then they skimm'd the Air!
And e'en in Clouds, imagin'd Pygmies near.
Then durst the boldest Crane the Plains invade,
His forfeit Life the certain Ransom paid;
His mangled Carcass furnish'd out a Feast,
At once the Banquet, and at once the Guest:
Or could he rarely 'scape their hostile Rage,
'Twas but with greater Evils to engage:
For he no sooner to his Nest returns,
But that despoil'd with bleeding Infants mourns;
Eluded Danger gives him no Relief,
Weeping, he dies with fond paternal Grief.
Loudly confess'd the potent Pygmies Power:
How timorously then they skimm'd the Air!
And e'en in Clouds, imagin'd Pygmies near.
Then durst the boldest Crane the Plains invade,
His forfeit Life the certain Ransom paid;
His mangled Carcass furnish'd out a Feast,
At once the Banquet, and at once the Guest:
Or could he rarely 'scape their hostile Rage,
'Twas but with greater Evils to engage:
For he no sooner to his Nest returns,
But that despoil'd with bleeding Infants mourns;
Eluded Danger gives him no Relief,
Weeping, he dies with fond paternal Grief.
From these inhuman Villanies arose
The Cranes Resentment, and the Pygmies Woes;
Hence dreadful Wars ensu'd, and direful Arms,
That shook the peaceful Country with Alarms.
The Cranes Resentment, and the Pygmies Woes;
Hence dreadful Wars ensu'd, and direful Arms,
That shook the peaceful Country with Alarms.
169
Less Wrongs resented, and less noble Rage,
In former Days did Homer's Muse engage,
When to the Field his downy Chiefs he led,
With sable Troops of croaking Heroes spread:
Deep thro' the Vales confounding Clamours rise,
And in hoarse Echoes murmur to the Skies;
Disjointed Heroes of their Limbs bereft,
Bewail the useless Life that Fate has left.
In former Days did Homer's Muse engage,
When to the Field his downy Chiefs he led,
With sable Troops of croaking Heroes spread:
Deep thro' the Vales confounding Clamours rise,
And in hoarse Echoes murmur to the Skies;
Disjointed Heroes of their Limbs bereft,
Bewail the useless Life that Fate has left.
And now the great, th' important Day appear'd,
A Day for ever by the Pygmies fear'd!
Now conscious of their Crimes, they view their Fate,
And penitentially grow wise too late!
In vain the Cranes their plumy Troops prepare,
And rally all their Forces to the War;
Summon'd the Chiefs that drink Cayister's Stream,
Receive the welcome Call, and thirst for Fame;
Cold Scythia pours her winged Armies forth,
And heads the hardy Millions of the North.
Fomented Wrongs their injur'd Souls excite,
Burn for Revenge, and kindle to the Fight;
Eager they meditate their absent Foes,
And exercise imaginary Blows:
Imaginary Conquests swell their Minds,
And each Breast labours with some vast Designs.
A Day for ever by the Pygmies fear'd!
Now conscious of their Crimes, they view their Fate,
And penitentially grow wise too late!
In vain the Cranes their plumy Troops prepare,
And rally all their Forces to the War;
Summon'd the Chiefs that drink Cayister's Stream,
Receive the welcome Call, and thirst for Fame;
Cold Scythia pours her winged Armies forth,
And heads the hardy Millions of the North.
170
Burn for Revenge, and kindle to the Fight;
Eager they meditate their absent Foes,
And exercise imaginary Blows:
Imaginary Conquests swell their Minds,
And each Breast labours with some vast Designs.
But now warm Breezes melt the frozen Year,
And warbling Birds bespeak the Summer near:
Embody'd then the winged Nations rise,
Darken the Day, and stretch along the Skies;
In sounding Gales the hov'ring Armies flow,
And seem a Tempest to the World below.
Shrill screaming Thunders thro the Welkin fly,
And terribly presage Destruction nigh.
And warbling Birds bespeak the Summer near:
Embody'd then the winged Nations rise,
Darken the Day, and stretch along the Skies;
In sounding Gales the hov'ring Armies flow,
And seem a Tempest to the World below.
Shrill screaming Thunders thro the Welkin fly,
And terribly presage Destruction nigh.
All Mr. Addison's Latin Poems are translated by Dr. Sewell, Mr. Newcomb, and Mr. Amhurst. viz. 1. On the Peace of Reswick. 2. On the Resurrection. 3. The Bowling-Green. 4. The Barometer. 5. The Puppet-Show. 6. The Battle of the Pygmies and Cranes. 7. An Ode to Dr. Burnet, on his Theory. 8. An Ode to Dr. Hannes, &c. With his Dissertation upon the Classicks. Printed for H. Curll, in the Strand.
| The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison | |