The loves of hero and leander translations from various Greek authors (1728) |
 | TRANSLATIONS From Various
Greek
Authors. |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | The loves of hero and leander |  |
45
TRANSLATIONS From Various Greek Authors.
Nec, si quid olim lusit Anacreon,
Delevit Ætas. ------ Anacreon!
Qui persæpe cavâ Testudine flevit Amorem,
Non elaboratum ad Pedem.
Hor.
Delevit Ætas. ------ Anacreon!
Qui persæpe cavâ Testudine flevit Amorem,
Non elaboratum ad Pedem.
Hor.
From Anacreon.
ODE I. Upon his Lyre.
The
sons of Atreus now I'll sing!
Lo! now I'll sing the sons of Jove!
In vain I strike the trembling string;
My lyre will nothing sound, but love.
Lo! now I'll sing the sons of Jove!
In vain I strike the trembling string;
My lyre will nothing sound, but love.
But, late I chang'd the warbling wire;
Resolv'd to sing some loftier strain;
Such as the brave and great inspire:
Alas! I chang'd the wire in vain!
In vain resolv'd! for still I found,
But love, my lyre would nothing sound.
Resolv'd to sing some loftier strain;
Such as the brave and great inspire:
Alas! I chang'd the wire in vain!
46
But love, my lyre would nothing sound.
Hence, fare ye well! ye great and brave!
Ye sons of Atreus and of Jove!
Hence, fare ye well! to love a slave,
My lyre shall nothing sound, but love!
Ye sons of Atreus and of Jove!
Hence, fare ye well! to love a slave,
My lyre shall nothing sound, but love!
ODE II. Upon Woman.
Nature gives all creatures arms,
Faithful guards from hostile harms!
Jaws, the lyon to defend;
Horrid jaws, that wide distend!
Horns, the bull; resistless force!
Solid hoofs, the gen'rous horse;
Nimble feet, the fearful hare;
Wings, the bird, to sail in air;
Fins, the fish, thro' sea to roll;
Man, the virtues of the soul.
Faithful guards from hostile harms!
Jaws, the lyon to defend;
Horrid jaws, that wide distend!
Horns, the bull; resistless force!
Solid hoofs, the gen'rous horse;
Nimble feet, the fearful hare;
Wings, the bird, to sail in air;
Fins, the fish, thro' sea to roll;
Man, the virtues of the soul.
Thus she lavish'd all her store—
What for woman had she more?
Beauty to her share did fall;
Beauty! the best guard of all!
She that's beauteous, need not fear
Sword or flame, or shield or spear;
Beauty better aid affords,
Better far, than flames or swords!
Better far, than spears or shields!
Ev'ry pow'r to beauty yields.
What for woman had she more?
Beauty to her share did fall;
Beauty! the best guard of all!
47
Sword or flame, or shield or spear;
Beauty better aid affords,
Better far, than flames or swords!
Better far, than spears or shields!
Ev'ry pow'r to beauty yields.
ODE III. Upon Cupid.
As it happen'd on a night,
Full of rain! and void of light!
Dismal darkness! (When, on high,
Ev'ry star had left the sky;
And below, by sleep opprest,
Ev'ry mortal gone to rest!)
Love stood knocking at my door;
Love! to me unknown before.
Full of rain! and void of light!
Dismal darkness! (When, on high,
Ev'ry star had left the sky;
And below, by sleep opprest,
Ev'ry mortal gone to rest!)
Love stood knocking at my door;
Love! to me unknown before.
‘Whence, and who, so late at night;
(Words half-utter'd with affright)
‘Dares, said I, such knocking keep?
‘Dares, disturb my downy sleep?—
“Little cause have you to fear,
“Whence we come, or who we are:
(Words half-utter'd with affright)
‘Dares, said I, such knocking keep?
‘Dares, disturb my downy sleep?—
“Little cause have you to fear,
“Whence we come, or who we are:
(Love, with subtlety, replies)
“Only, pr'y-thee, stranger, rise;
“And some gentle care employ,
“On a little harmless boy:
“Drowning, wand'ring all the night,
“Full of rain! and void of light!
“Only, pr'y-thee, stranger, rise;
48
“On a little harmless boy:
“Drowning, wand'ring all the night,
“Full of rain! and void of light!
Mov'd at what the urchin said;
Easy fool! I rose from bed;
Lit a lamp, and op'd the door;
Where, indeed, a boy I spy'd;
Wings, who on his shoulders wore,
Bow and quiver by his side.
Ent'ring, I no more inquire;
But kindly place him by the fire,
His little hands, (so chill with cold)
In mine to warm, I fondly hold.
His little hairs, (so wet with rain)
I gently wring and dry again.
When straight reviving by my cares,
When warm'd his hands, and dry'd his hairs:
‘Friend, said he, I fain wou'd know,
‘How fares my dart? how fares my bow?
‘If proof against the wet or no?—
‘Friend! how fares my dart and bow!
He bent his bow, he fix'd his dart,
And shot it full into my heart;
Full! as the fiery serpent stings,
Then slily smiling, out he springs;
‘And now (said he) my friend, I know,
‘Safe is my dart; safe is my bow.
‘Happy for thee, cou'd'st thou but say
‘Thy heart were half as safe, as they.
Easy fool! I rose from bed;
Lit a lamp, and op'd the door;
Where, indeed, a boy I spy'd;
Wings, who on his shoulders wore,
Bow and quiver by his side.
Ent'ring, I no more inquire;
But kindly place him by the fire,
His little hands, (so chill with cold)
In mine to warm, I fondly hold.
His little hairs, (so wet with rain)
I gently wring and dry again.
When straight reviving by my cares,
When warm'd his hands, and dry'd his hairs:
‘Friend, said he, I fain wou'd know,
‘How fares my dart? how fares my bow?
‘If proof against the wet or no?—
‘Friend! how fares my dart and bow!
He bent his bow, he fix'd his dart,
And shot it full into my heart;
Full! as the fiery serpent stings,
Then slily smiling, out he springs;
‘And now (said he) my friend, I know,
‘Safe is my dart; safe is my bow.
‘Happy for thee, cou'd'st thou but say
‘Thy heart were half as safe, as they.
49
ODE IV. Upon Revel.
On softest beds at leisure laid,
Beds of Lote, and Myrtle made!
While the easy hours I spend,
Love! my festal shall attend,
Love! his robe behind him bound,
Love! shall serve my goblet round!
Swift, in this terrestrial strife,
Turns the rapid wheel of life.
Swift, as speeding from the bar,
Turns her wheel the rapid car.
Beds of Lote, and Myrtle made!
While the easy hours I spend,
Love! my festal shall attend,
Love! his robe behind him bound,
Love! shall serve my goblet round!
Swift, in this terrestrial strife,
Turns the rapid wheel of life.
Swift, as speeding from the bar,
Turns her wheel the rapid car.
Soon, my friends, to cruel death,
I, alas! must yield my breath.
Soon dissolve (too soon I must)
Turn'd to undistinguish'd dust.
I, alas! must yield my breath.
Soon dissolve (too soon I must)
Turn'd to undistinguish'd dust.
Do not then, when I am dead,
Flow'rs, or wines, or odours shed,
Fruitless love! superfluous care!
Spare me then what I can spare.
Rather, in these present hours,
Bring your odours, wines, and flow'rs.
Flow'rs, or wines, or odours shed,
Fruitless love! superfluous care!
Spare me then what I can spare.
Rather, in these present hours,
Bring your odours, wines, and flow'rs.
50
Now, o Cupid, bind my hair!
Summon, now, the tender fair;
That before I'm doom'd to go
To the shades, that sport below,
I may taste with those that live,
All the sports, that life can give.
Summon, now, the tender fair;
That before I'm doom'd to go
To the shades, that sport below,
I may taste with those that live,
All the sports, that life can give.
ODE V. Upon the same Subject [Upon Revel].
Say, what flow'r do you design
Grateful to the god of wine?
Say, what flow'r, but that, can prove
Grateful to the god of love?
Come then, friends, with roses crown'd,
Come, and put the goblet round:
Thus we'll laugh, and thus we'll play,
Drink and revel all the day.
Grateful to the god of wine?
Say, what flow'r, but that, can prove
Grateful to the god of love?
Come then, friends, with roses crown'd,
Come, and put the goblet round:
Thus we'll laugh, and thus we'll play,
Drink and revel all the day.
Of each lovely flow'r that grows,
The most lovely is the rose.
Lovely rose! the spring's delight,
Nothing shewing half so bright!
Lovely rose! of gods the care,
Nothing seeing half so fair.
Love himself, when he resorts
Where the band of graces sports,
And to join the dance prepares,
Binds with this his golden hairs.
The most lovely is the rose.
Lovely rose! the spring's delight,
Nothing shewing half so bright!
Lovely rose! of gods the care,
Nothing seeing half so fair.
Love himself, when he resorts
Where the band of graces sports,
51
Binds with this his golden hairs.
Crown me then; and with the lyre
Sweetly breathing soft desire;
And the fair, provoking love;
Straight to Bacchus' fane remove!
There we'll laugh, and there we'll play,
Drink and revel all the day.
Sweetly breathing soft desire;
And the fair, provoking love;
Straight to Bacchus' fane remove!
There we'll laugh, and there we'll play,
Drink and revel all the day.
ODE VII. Upon Cupid.
Love met me lately all alone,And bad me, in a threat'ning tone;
‘Away, Anacreon, let us try,
‘Who can run faster, you or I.’
Tho' nought, that day, his dang'rous hand
Arm'd but an Hyacinthian wand,
Yet to dispute his pow'r afraid,
Love with reluctance I obey'd.
So thro' the streams and o'er the vales,
And up the hills, and down the dales,
We ran. When from a woody brake
Out sprang a fiery-venom'd snake;
52
For strait my soul, in deadly fright,
As with her last-expiring breath,
Flut'ring up-rose to take her flight.
Cupid, un-hop'd-for succour brings;
And gently fans me with his wings,
And mildly warns: “Thus caution'd, prove,
“Hence-forth, more tractable to love!
ODE IX. Upon the Carrier-Dove.
Tell me, pray, my pretty dove!
Tell me, lovely scout of love!
Whence, and whither, dost thou fly,
Sweets-distilling, thro' the sky?
Whence, and whither, do'st thou go?
Tell me, for I fain wou'd know.
Tell me, lovely scout of love!
Whence, and whither, dost thou fly,
Sweets-distilling, thro' the sky?
Whence, and whither, do'st thou go?
Tell me, for I fain wou'd know.
Stranger, if thou fain wou'dst know,
I to fair Bathyllus go;
Charming boy! whose haughty sway
All implicity obey.
To Anacreon I belong,
Giv'n by Venus for a song.
Hence I serve, a faithful dove,
All his embassies of love.
Who for this, that here you see,
Gave his word to set me free.
I to fair Bathyllus go;
Charming boy! whose haughty sway
All implicity obey.
To Anacreon I belong,
Giv'n by Venus for a song.
53
All his embassies of love.
Who for this, that here you see,
Gave his word to set me free.
But what joy can that afford?
(Shou'd Anacreon keep his word!)
Here and there to roam at will,
Over mead, or over hill?
Or to perch in lonely wood!
Trusting chance for rustick food?
When I now am daily fed,
With my master's purest bread;
Daily in his goblet join,
(Heav'nly draught!) of purest wine.
Feeding now, perhaps, I stand,
Gently-cooing, on his hand.
Drinking now my wings I spread,
Fondly-flutring, o'er his head;
Or, with downy sleep possest,
On his lyre repose to rest;
(Shou'd Anacreon keep his word!)
Here and there to roam at will,
Over mead, or over hill?
Or to perch in lonely wood!
Trusting chance for rustick food?
When I now am daily fed,
With my master's purest bread;
Daily in his goblet join,
(Heav'nly draught!) of purest wine.
Feeding now, perhaps, I stand,
Gently-cooing, on his hand.
Drinking now my wings I spread,
Fondly-flutring, o'er his head;
Or, with downy sleep possest,
On his lyre repose to rest;
Now thou dost my business know,
Where I come, and whither go,
Curious stranger, speed thy way!
Thou'st made me prate like any jay.
Where I come, and whither go,
Curious stranger, speed thy way!
Thou'st made me prate like any jay.
54
ODE XIV. Upon Cupid.
Victor-love! I yield, I yield,
Thou hast fairly won the field,
Thou, who oft hast vainly strove
To persuade me (victor-love!)
By the softest terms to yield,
Thou, by force hast won the field.
Thou hast fairly won the field,
Thou, who oft hast vainly strove
To persuade me (victor-love!)
By the softest terms to yield,
Thou, by force hast won the field.
To the battle love did go,
With his quiver and his bow.
I my jav'lin, I my shield,
Like a new Achilles weild.
Furious, love begins the fight,
Which I ward by subtle flight;
Love pursues with might and main,
Shooting all his darts in vain;
But, at length, in want of dart,
Shoots himself into my heart,
Yet insensible of flame;
And dissolves my vital frame.
Now my jav'lin, now my shield,
All in vain, in vain I weild:
Arms without must surely fail,
When the foes within prevail.
With his quiver and his bow.
I my jav'lin, I my shield,
Like a new Achilles weild.
Furious, love begins the fight,
Which I ward by subtle flight;
Love pursues with might and main,
Shooting all his darts in vain;
But, at length, in want of dart,
Shoots himself into my heart,
Yet insensible of flame;
And dissolves my vital frame.
Now my jav'lin, now my shield,
All in vain, in vain I weild:
Arms without must surely fail,
When the foes within prevail.
55
ODE XVI. Upon Himself.
The wars of Thebes your muse employ;His muse the deathless wars of Troy;
Wars of my own employ my muse,
Wars! where I no mercy meet!
Wars where my destroyers use,
Neither horse, nor foot, nor fleet!
Nor any arms to gain their prize!
Not any arms, but those of eyes.
ODE XX. To his Mistress.
Transform'd to stone thy daughter stands,Dread Tantalus! on Phrygian lands:
And thine a bird, Pandion, flies
On sable pinions thro' the skies.
56
O ever-lovely to behold!
The glass I'd be, that views thy face;
The vestments, that thy waist infold.
The streams, in which thy body swims;
The unguents, that anoint thy limbs;
The golden bands, thy breast that deck;
The pearly chains, that clasp thy neck;
Thy very sandals I would be,
Tho' trod to earth; so trod by thee.
ODE XXII. To Bathyllus.
Come, Bathyllus, to this shadeBy close-mingling branches made.
Branches sweet! Whose tender hair
Sport with ev'ry breath of air.
Nourish'd by fresh streams below
Softly murm'ring as they flow.
Who, by folly not betray'd,
Who wou'd fly so sweet a shade?
57
ODE XXIII. Upon Gold.
Hoard up gold?—Had gold the pow'rTo with-hold the fatal hour:
Cou'd it that sad hour with-hold,
Gold I'd hoard, vast sums of gold,
That when death on me should call,
Death the certain doom of all!
I might (day succeeding day)
Purchase still a new delay.
But since death has not the pow'r
To with-hold the fatal hour,
Why shou'd I in fears and pains
Spend what yet of life remains?
Life! whose length alone appears,
Truly worth my pains and fears.
No!—to please my mirthful soul,
Give me the full-flowing bowl;
Give me with some faithful friend
What of life remains, to spend.
Or on beds of softness laid
With some kind-complying maid;
Joys, more heav'nly yet, to prove,
True to thy rites, fair queen of love.
58
ODE XXX. Upon Cupid.
Run-way love the muses finding,
And in flow'ry fetters binding,
Straight their little captiv'd slave
To the charge of beauty gave.
And in flow'ry fetters binding,
Straight their little captiv'd slave
To the charge of beauty gave.
Venus hearing love was caught,
Mighty gifts of ransom brought;
To redeem him from his chain,
Mighty gifts she brought in vain.
Mighty gifts of ransom brought;
To redeem him from his chain,
Mighty gifts she brought in vain.
Cupid of his own free-will,
Proffer'd liberty refuses,
Chusing to live captive still,
Slave of beauty and the muses.
Proffer'd liberty refuses,
Chusing to live captive still,
Slave of beauty and the muses.
59
ODE XXXIII. To the Swallow.
Here, gentle swallow! social guest!
Duly each year you build your nest,
In which all summer you remain;
But winter come, depart again;
And, fled to warmer climes the while,
Lodge or near Memphis or the Nile.
Duly each year you build your nest,
In which all summer you remain;
But winter come, depart again;
And, fled to warmer climes the while,
Lodge or near Memphis or the Nile.
Sweet bird! how happy shou'd I be,
Would love but come and go like thee!
Who in my heart, a constant guest,
Builds all the year, nor quits his nest,
Would love but come and go like thee!
Who in my heart, a constant guest,
Builds all the year, nor quits his nest,
Some in the shell imprison'd lie,
Some newly-fledg'd begin to fly;
Some half-disclos'd, in doubtful strife,
Press, yet un-finish'd, into life.
My breast with endless noise is torn,
Of craving loves incessant-born.
The full-grown bird with tender food
Careful supplies the callow-brood;
And soon the callow-brood full-grown,
Supplies another of her own.
Some newly-fledg'd begin to fly;
Some half-disclos'd, in doubtful strife,
Press, yet un-finish'd, into life.
My breast with endless noise is torn,
Of craving loves incessant-born.
The full-grown bird with tender food
Careful supplies the callow-brood;
And soon the callow-brood full-grown,
Supplies another of her own.
60
A proper rem'dy who can tell?
So many loves within me dwell;
No tongue their number can declare;
No heart, alas, their burthen bear.
So many loves within me dwell;
No tongue their number can declare;
No heart, alas, their burthen bear.
ODE XXXIV. To his Young Mistress.
Wanton, in the bloom of years;
Poor Anacreon you despise;
Little grace his snow-white hairs
Gain him, fair-one, in your eyes.
Poor Anacreon you despise;
Little grace his snow-white hairs
Gain him, fair-one, in your eyes.
Let not that affect your mind:
Half so well no mixture shews,
In the wreaths our temples bind,
As when the lilly joins the rose.
Half so well no mixture shews,
In the wreaths our temples bind,
As when the lilly joins the rose.
61
ODE XXXV. Upon the Picture of Jupiter and Europa.
Sure that bull we see is Jove,To that shape transform'd by love!
Doom'd on his broad back to bear,
Thro' the sea, the Tyrian fair;
And with his large hoof divide,
Foaming-round, the troubled tide.
None but he, of all the herd,
None but he, had ever dar'd,
Thro' that boundless tract to rove,
Sure it can be none but Jove.
ODE XXXVI. Upon Life.
Teach me not your arts and rules;
Empty words of bab'ling schools!
What of good to me imparts,
Your vain talk of rules and arts?
Empty words of bab'ling schools!
What of good to me imparts,
Your vain talk of rules and arts?
62
Teach me rather to refine,
In the pleasing rules of wine!
Teach me rather to improve,
In the golden arts of love.
In the pleasing rules of wine!
Teach me rather to improve,
In the golden arts of love.
Quick, e'er hasty life take wing,
Wine refresh'd with water bring:
Bring the heav'nly mixture, boy!
Grudge me not the short-liv'd joy!
Destin'd soon to yield my breath,
There's no drinking after death!
Wine refresh'd with water bring:
Bring the heav'nly mixture, boy!
Grudge me not the short-liv'd joy!
Destin'd soon to yield my breath,
There's no drinking after death!
ODE XL. Upon Cupid.
Wanton
Cupid, as at play
On a bank of flow'rs he lay,
By a little bee was stung,
That about his fingers clung.
Straight to Venus running, flying,
Raving sometimes, sometimes crying.
‘Help, ah! mother, help your son,
‘Help (he cry'd) or I'm undone.
‘Look how that audacious thing,
‘Has transpierc'd me with his sting.
‘Thing, I know not what to call:
‘Winged thing, as fierce as small.
‘Winged serpent, let me see—
‘That the rusticks name a bee.
On a bank of flow'rs he lay,
By a little bee was stung,
That about his fingers clung.
Straight to Venus running, flying,
Raving sometimes, sometimes crying.
‘Help, ah! mother, help your son,
‘Help (he cry'd) or I'm undone.
‘Look how that audacious thing,
‘Has transpierc'd me with his sting.
63
‘Winged thing, as fierce as small.
‘Winged serpent, let me see—
‘That the rusticks name a bee.
Venus smiling on her son,
Boy, (she said) if thou'rt undone
By so very small a thing,
By so very slight a sting,
What must be the lover's smart,
When thy arrows pierce his heart?
Boy, (she said) if thou'rt undone
By so very small a thing,
By so very slight a sting,
What must be the lover's smart,
When thy arrows pierce his heart?
ODE XLV. Upon Cupid's Arrows.
As the
god of manual arts
Wrought at Lemnos, forging darts,
Darts! the cause of am'rous woe!
Darts of steel for Cupid's bow!
Love, in honey, dipt them all;
But her wanton son in gall.
Wrought at Lemnos, forging darts,
Darts! the cause of am'rous woe!
Darts of steel for Cupid's bow!
Love, in honey, dipt them all;
But her wanton son in gall.
Hither, freed from war-alarms,
Hither came, by fatal chance,
Mars, the mighty god of arms,
With his long-portended lance.
Hither came, by fatal chance,
Mars, the mighty god of arms,
With his long-portended lance.
64
Cupid's darts, with scornful eyes
Viewing, haughtily he cries:
‘This is slight, and that's a toy.
‘Those, perhaps, replies the boy.
‘But if I divine aright—
‘Take it—This is not so slight.
Mars receives it—Venus smiles
At her son's well-season'd wiles.
Viewing, haughtily he cries:
‘This is slight, and that's a toy.
‘Those, perhaps, replies the boy.
‘But if I divine aright—
‘Take it—This is not so slight.
Mars receives it—Venus smiles
At her son's well-season'd wiles.
Mars, with sudden pain possest,
Sighing from his inmost breast,
‘Cupid! thou divine'st aright!
‘This, says he, is not so slight,
‘Take it—No! returns the boy,
‘Keep it, Mars—'tis but a toy.
Sighing from his inmost breast,
‘Cupid! thou divine'st aright!
‘This, says he, is not so slight,
‘Take it—No! returns the boy,
‘Keep it, Mars—'tis but a toy.
ODE LXII. An Epithalamium, on the Marriage of Stratocles.
You, the fairest child of Jove,
Venus! powerful queen of love!
Cupid! god of pleasing strife!
Hymen! guard of happy life!
You I call. Propitious prove,
Hymen! Cupid! queen of love!
Venus! powerful queen of love!
Cupid! god of pleasing strife!
Hymen! guard of happy life!
You I call. Propitious prove,
Hymen! Cupid! queen of love!
65
Rise! too sleepy boy, arise!
Rise! and seize the lovely prize!
E'er the tim'rous thing take flight,
Shameful of intruding light.
Rise! o boy, by Venus blest!
Rise! and take her to thy breast!
Clasp the fair-one in thy arms.
Fair-one! full of bloomy charms.
Rise! and seize the lovely prize!
E'er the tim'rous thing take flight,
Shameful of intruding light.
Rise! o boy, by Venus blest!
Rise! and take her to thy breast!
Clasp the fair-one in thy arms.
Fair-one! full of bloomy charms.
Lively as in genial bow'rs,
Shines the rose, the queen of flow'rs!
Lively thy Myrtilla shows,
Mixt with maids, of maids the rose!
Shines the rose, the queen of flow'rs!
Lively thy Myrtilla shows,
Mixt with maids, of maids the rose!
Now, that Phœbus from the sky
Views thee, boy, with envious eye.
Rise! and feast thy ravish'd sight!
Rise! and take the soft delight!—
So may they their influence shed,
On the fruitful marriage-bed;
So may they propitious prove;
Hymen! Cupid! queen of love!
Views thee, boy, with envious eye.
Rise! and feast thy ravish'd sight!
Rise! and take the soft delight!—
So may they their influence shed,
On the fruitful marriage-bed;
So may they propitious prove;
Hymen! Cupid! queen of love!
66
Two Fragments from Sappho.
I. Upon Two Favourite-Maids, of whom she was jealous.
To Love.
Dire love, whom nothing can reclaim,
Ah me! dissolves my vital frame.
Dire bird of prey! more fierce than small!
And full of honey mixt with gall!
By thee alone, bright Athis, mov'd,
(So loving, late; and, still, so lov'd;)
Makes false Andromeda her care!
And leaves poor Sappho to despair.
Ah me! dissolves my vital frame.
Dire bird of prey! more fierce than small!
And full of honey mixt with gall!
By thee alone, bright Athis, mov'd,
(So loving, late; and, still, so lov'd;)
Makes false Andromeda her care!
And leaves poor Sappho to despair.
II. Upon the Rose.
Wou'd
Jove a queen of flow'rs decree,
The rose the queen of flow'rs shou'd be.
The blush of meads! the pride of bow'rs!
The grace of plants! the eye of flow'rs.
The gods themselves her beauties move.
Fav'rite of Venus! breath of love!
What flow'r is half so charming found,
As when, with full-blown tresses crown'd,
The rose in all her bloom prevails,
And smiles on Zephyr's gentle gales?
The rose the queen of flow'rs shou'd be.
The blush of meads! the pride of bow'rs!
The grace of plants! the eye of flow'rs.
The gods themselves her beauties move.
Fav'rite of Venus! breath of love!
What flow'r is half so charming found,
As when, with full-blown tresses crown'd,
The rose in all her bloom prevails,
And smiles on Zephyr's gentle gales?
67
From Julian.
In Imitation of Anacreon.
As roses in a wreath I bound,
Love among the flow'rs I found:
Seizing fast this foe of mine;
And immersing deep in wine;
Straight, in hand, I took the cup;
Straight I drank the wanton up.
Love among the flow'rs I found:
Seizing fast this foe of mine;
And immersing deep in wine;
Straight, in hand, I took the cup;
Straight I drank the wanton up.
Now the idle-flutt'ring guest
Up and down my bosom springs,
Teazing, tickling, without rest,
With the feathers of his wings.
Up and down my bosom springs,
Teazing, tickling, without rest,
With the feathers of his wings.
From Theocritus.
Upon the Death of Adonis.
In Imitation of Anacreon.
When the queen of soft desire,
Saw the much-lov'd boy expire;
Pale his cheeks; hairs stiff with gore;
She bad her loves go seek the boar.
Saw the much-lov'd boy expire;
Pale his cheeks; hairs stiff with gore;
She bad her loves go seek the boar.
68
Straight the nimble-winged loves,
Running, flying, search'd the groves:
Straight the fatal miscreant found;
And in thousand fetters bound.
This before, with twisted thong,
Drew th'unwieldy brute along:
That behind, with loosen'd bow,
Lash'd him forward, lagging-slow.
Slow he lagg'd with pensive mien,
Much afraid of beauty's queen.
‘Was it thou, for ever curst!
‘Worst of beasts! of boars the worst!
‘Was it thou, that did'st destroy,
‘Thou that kill'dst my fav'rite boy?’
Full of grief the goddess cry'd—
Full of grief the boar reply'd;
‘Lowly-bending at thy knee,
‘By thy fav'rite, and by thee,
‘These thy fetters which I wear,
‘These thy sportive loves, I swear:
‘Never once thy fav'rite-boy,
‘Thought I, Venus, to destroy!
‘True—when naked to the sight,
‘I Adonis' thigh beheld;
‘Thigh! as polish'd iv'ry white!
‘Thigh! that iv'ry far excell'd!
‘And, in transport of desire,
‘Kiss'd, perhaps, with too much fire—
‘That did hurt thy fav'rite-boy;
‘That did him and me destroy.
‘Take these tusks then, Venus, take;
‘Take and punish for his sake;
‘Tusks! to me that hateful prove!
‘Tusks! that murder what they love!
‘Or, if measur'd by th'offence,
‘Thou with these wilt not dispense;
‘If these victims be too small,
‘Take, o Venus, lips withal.
Running, flying, search'd the groves:
Straight the fatal miscreant found;
And in thousand fetters bound.
This before, with twisted thong,
Drew th'unwieldy brute along:
That behind, with loosen'd bow,
Lash'd him forward, lagging-slow.
Slow he lagg'd with pensive mien,
Much afraid of beauty's queen.
‘Was it thou, for ever curst!
‘Worst of beasts! of boars the worst!
‘Was it thou, that did'st destroy,
‘Thou that kill'dst my fav'rite boy?’
Full of grief the goddess cry'd—
Full of grief the boar reply'd;
‘Lowly-bending at thy knee,
‘By thy fav'rite, and by thee,
‘These thy fetters which I wear,
‘These thy sportive loves, I swear:
‘Never once thy fav'rite-boy,
‘Thought I, Venus, to destroy!
‘True—when naked to the sight,
‘I Adonis' thigh beheld;
‘Thigh! as polish'd iv'ry white!
‘Thigh! that iv'ry far excell'd!
‘And, in transport of desire,
‘Kiss'd, perhaps, with too much fire—
‘That did hurt thy fav'rite-boy;
‘That did him and me destroy.
69
‘Take and punish for his sake;
‘Tusks! to me that hateful prove!
‘Tusks! that murder what they love!
‘Or, if measur'd by th'offence,
‘Thou with these wilt not dispense;
‘If these victims be too small,
‘Take, o Venus, lips withal.
Venus, pitying his pains,
Bad the loves release his chains.
He, releas'd, ne'er seeks the groves;
But attending, 'midst the loves,
Climbs, self-mov'd, the fun'ral pyre,
And burns the lovers in the fire.
Bad the loves release his chains.
He, releas'd, ne'er seeks the groves;
But attending, 'midst the loves,
Climbs, self-mov'd, the fun'ral pyre,
And burns the lovers in the fire.
From Bion.
Idyllium II.
A boy, late following in a shady grove,Perch'd on a box, discovers run'way love.
The painted bird with transport he descrys;
(For love appear'd a bird of wond'rous size)
And joins his reeds: which love, in wanton play,
Now here, now there, evades from spray, to spray.
70
His useless reeds dash'd furious on the ground.
And to the grove an ancient rustic brought;
By whom, the guileful art, he had been taught.
Told him, how he had lost the charming prize,
And mark'd him where he sat with wishful eyes.
The good old fowler shook his hoary head,
And to his thoughtless scholar smiling said:
‘Pursue him not, but fly thy self away!
‘This bird, assure thee, is a bird of prey.
‘Secure in youth, avoid him while you can,
‘Trust me, my boy, once you arrive at man,
‘He of himself, the bird that lately fled,
‘Shall freely light, and perch upon your head.
From Moschus.
Idyllium I.
Love, from his mother-goddess gone astray;
Thus loud she cry'd her wanton run-a-way.
‘Who shall conduct me to the vagrant boy;
‘A kiss shall have, replete of heav'nly joy.
‘Who to my arms the vagrant shall restore,
‘Shall have as sweet a kiss, and something more—
‘You can't mistake him once his marks are shown,
‘This boy, among a thousand, may be known.
‘Not white his body, but resembling fire:
‘And his eyes ever-flaming with desire.
‘At constant variance are his tongue and mind:
‘His thoughts deceitful, as his speech is kind.
‘Words sweet as honey, from his lips distil,
‘His guileful heart the better to conceal;
‘Where cruel malice lurks in fair disguise.
‘Spightful as treach'rous! full of wiles as lyes!
‘Soft-curly locks his wanton forehead grace;
‘And add uncommon archness to his face.
‘His hands, tho' small, far, wond'rous far, can throw;
‘Far! as th'infernal king that rules below!
‘A little bow, and little dart he bears;
‘Little! yet large enough to pierce the spheres!
‘A golden quiver on his shoulder sounds:
‘And full of shafts, with which ev'n me he wounds!
‘No shaft but is most fatal; no, not one!
‘But most his torch; that fires the very sun.
‘Of body naked! fraudulent of mind!
‘Swift as a bird, and faithless as the wind!
‘Now here, now there, he takes his nimble flights,
‘To nymphs or swains; and on their hearts alights.
Thus loud she cry'd her wanton run-a-way.
‘Who shall conduct me to the vagrant boy;
‘A kiss shall have, replete of heav'nly joy.
‘Who to my arms the vagrant shall restore,
‘Shall have as sweet a kiss, and something more—
‘You can't mistake him once his marks are shown,
‘This boy, among a thousand, may be known.
71
‘And his eyes ever-flaming with desire.
‘At constant variance are his tongue and mind:
‘His thoughts deceitful, as his speech is kind.
‘Words sweet as honey, from his lips distil,
‘His guileful heart the better to conceal;
‘Where cruel malice lurks in fair disguise.
‘Spightful as treach'rous! full of wiles as lyes!
‘Soft-curly locks his wanton forehead grace;
‘And add uncommon archness to his face.
‘His hands, tho' small, far, wond'rous far, can throw;
‘Far! as th'infernal king that rules below!
‘A little bow, and little dart he bears;
‘Little! yet large enough to pierce the spheres!
‘A golden quiver on his shoulder sounds:
‘And full of shafts, with which ev'n me he wounds!
‘No shaft but is most fatal; no, not one!
‘But most his torch; that fires the very sun.
‘Of body naked! fraudulent of mind!
‘Swift as a bird, and faithless as the wind!
‘Now here, now there, he takes his nimble flights,
‘To nymphs or swains; and on their hearts alights.
‘If this my run-a-way you chance to find;
‘Shew him no pity, but in fetters bind.
‘Nor tho' he feign to weep, or feign to smile;
‘Let this, or that, your easy faith beguile.
‘With kisses would he bribe, refuse them all;
‘The lips of love are fraught with venom'd gall.
‘Wou'd he resign his arms, ev'n those disclaim;
‘The gifts of love are ting'd with subtle flame.
‘Shew him no pity, but in fetters bind.
‘Nor tho' he feign to weep, or feign to smile;
‘Let this, or that, your easy faith beguile.
‘With kisses would he bribe, refuse them all;
‘The lips of love are fraught with venom'd gall.
‘Wou'd he resign his arms, ev'n those disclaim;
‘The gifts of love are ting'd with subtle flame.
72
From Homer.
The SONG of Demodicus.
The strings, by turns, the skilful lyrist moves,
By turns, he modules Mars' and Venus' loves.
As how the god obtain'd the soft delight,
And how the goddess stain'd the nuptial-rite.
Till he, the pow'r that gilds the lofty sky,
The long-stoln pleasure view'd with envious eye
(The far-effulgent sun, that all things views)
And to the jealous husband, bore the news.
By turns, he modules Mars' and Venus' loves.
As how the god obtain'd the soft delight,
And how the goddess stain'd the nuptial-rite.
Till he, the pow'r that gilds the lofty sky,
The long-stoln pleasure view'd with envious eye
(The far-effulgent sun, that all things views)
And to the jealous husband, bore the news.
The gloomy god, with grief and rage possest,
Revenge deep-ponders in his anxious breast.
Straight to his Forge, in vengeful haste, he hies,
Strait with the sledge, the labour'd anvil plies;
And frames a net-work of such curious make,
As neither art could loose, nor strength cou'd break;
And yet compacted of such subtle parts,
It seem'd the product of Arachnean arts.
This guileful snare (the lovers to surprize)
Too fine for mortal, or immortal eyes;
In folds unseen, laborious Vulcan spread,
Above, below, around the conscious bed.
Then (as he feign'd) to Lemnos he remov'd,
Lemnos! of all his courts the best belov'd!
Revenge deep-ponders in his anxious breast.
Straight to his Forge, in vengeful haste, he hies,
Strait with the sledge, the labour'd anvil plies;
And frames a net-work of such curious make,
As neither art could loose, nor strength cou'd break;
And yet compacted of such subtle parts,
It seem'd the product of Arachnean arts.
This guileful snare (the lovers to surprize)
Too fine for mortal, or immortal eyes;
73
Above, below, around the conscious bed.
Then (as he feign'd) to Lemnos he remov'd,
Lemnos! of all his courts the best belov'd!
His well-dissembled march, the god of war,
With watchful eyes, discovers from afar:
And, eager to relieve his am'rous pains,
Flies to the vacant dome, with flowing reins.
With watchful eyes, discovers from afar:
And, eager to relieve his am'rous pains,
Flies to the vacant dome, with flowing reins.
Scarce had he enter'd; when the queen of love
(Sped from the courts of all-effecting Jove)
Descended fresh with new-recruited charms;
To whom, all-rapture, thus the god of arms.
(Sped from the courts of all-effecting Jove)
Descended fresh with new-recruited charms;
To whom, all-rapture, thus the god of arms.
‘Come, love! the fair occasion let us seize!
(Her hand soft-moulding with a tender squeeze)
‘Come, love! in bliss the happy hour employ;
‘E'er thy dull god disturb the well-reap'd joy;
‘Who those dear arms for barb'rous Sintians flies,
‘Who quits, for Lemnian fires, those brighter eyes.
(Her hand soft-moulding with a tender squeeze)
‘Come, love! in bliss the happy hour employ;
‘E'er thy dull god disturb the well-reap'd joy;
‘Who those dear arms for barb'rous Sintians flies,
‘Who quits, for Lemnian fires, those brighter eyes.
The goddess melts. For, with persuasive art,
The soothing accents stole upon her heart;
And to the genial bow'r, the god convey'd
Down dropt the toils, by careful Vulcan laid;
And held them fast, unable to remove,
Doubly-incumber'd in the bonds of love!
The soothing accents stole upon her heart;
And to the genial bow'r, the god convey'd
Down dropt the toils, by careful Vulcan laid;
And held them fast, unable to remove,
Doubly-incumber'd in the bonds of love!
Th'officious sun perceiv'd the lovers caught,
And to the scene of guilt grim Vulcan brought.
Frantic the god survey'd the twining pair;
Alas! what husband such a sight cou'd bear?
Fill'd the wide-vaulted heav'ns with horrid cries;
And summon'd all his brothers of the skies.
And to the scene of guilt grim Vulcan brought.
Frantic the god survey'd the twining pair;
Alas! what husband such a sight cou'd bear?
74
And summon'd all his brothers of the skies.
‘Draw near, ye gods! ye gods! draw near (he said)
‘View there the foul dishonour of my bed!
‘View there th'eternal scandal of my life!
‘Thy daughter, Jove! and my lascivious wife!
‘Lo! where with Mars she lies—ah! curst embrace!
‘Mars has her love, and Vulcan her disgrace;
‘For Mars is lovely-born, and Vulcan lame;
‘The happier he—But, gods—am I to blame?
‘If his streight limbs with statelier beauties shine;
‘Condemn my parents—'tis no fault of mine.
‘But let them now possess their boasted charms:
‘Now let them clasp, close folded, arms in arms:
‘For once, tho' to the other each so dear,
‘For once, perhaps, they'll find themselves too near.
‘Strive to get free they may—but strive in vain:
‘For never shall this hand unloose that chain.
‘Never! till Jove repay the precious dow'r,
‘Giv'n for his daughter in a luckless hour;
‘E'er yet our hands in marriage-bonds were join'd.
‘His daughter! fair of face, but false of mind!
‘View there the foul dishonour of my bed!
‘View there th'eternal scandal of my life!
‘Thy daughter, Jove! and my lascivious wife!
‘Lo! where with Mars she lies—ah! curst embrace!
‘Mars has her love, and Vulcan her disgrace;
‘For Mars is lovely-born, and Vulcan lame;
‘The happier he—But, gods—am I to blame?
‘If his streight limbs with statelier beauties shine;
‘Condemn my parents—'tis no fault of mine.
‘But let them now possess their boasted charms:
‘Now let them clasp, close folded, arms in arms:
‘For once, tho' to the other each so dear,
‘For once, perhaps, they'll find themselves too near.
‘Strive to get free they may—but strive in vain:
‘For never shall this hand unloose that chain.
‘Never! till Jove repay the precious dow'r,
‘Giv'n for his daughter in a luckless hour;
‘E'er yet our hands in marriage-bonds were join'd.
‘His daughter! fair of face, but false of mind!
He said. Mean time, the gods in numbers come,
Divine-assemblage! to the brazen dome,
By Vulcan rouz'd; desirous of the sight:
With these the god, whom prudent arts delight;
And he, whose hand deals deadly shafts around;
And he, whose trident shakes the solid ground.
But for the goddesses, they stay'd behind.
Such prospects ill-become the female kind.
Divine-assemblage! to the brazen dome,
By Vulcan rouz'd; desirous of the sight:
With these the god, whom prudent arts delight;
And he, whose hand deals deadly shafts around;
And he, whose trident shakes the solid ground.
75
Such prospects ill-become the female kind.
The gods stood round. And some on Venus smil'd;
Some laugh'd to see the god of war beguil'd;
Some Vulcan prais'd. ‘The slow, the swift outspeeds.
‘Sure punishment awaits nefarious deeds!
‘For fleetness fam'd, in these supream abodes,
‘Mars (as they cry'd) is fore-most of the gods.
‘Yet, doom'd the mulct of lawless love to pay,
‘Fleet Mars to tardy Vulcan now gives way.
Some laugh'd to see the god of war beguil'd;
Some Vulcan prais'd. ‘The slow, the swift outspeeds.
‘Sure punishment awaits nefarious deeds!
‘For fleetness fam'd, in these supream abodes,
‘Mars (as they cry'd) is fore-most of the gods.
‘Yet, doom'd the mulct of lawless love to pay,
‘Fleet Mars to tardy Vulcan now gives way.
To Hermes then, the god of day began:
‘Say, messenger of good events to man;
‘Wou'd'st thou, like Mars, to reap those heav'nly charms,
“Wou'd'st thou, be bound in golden Venus' arms?
‘Say, messenger of good events to man;
‘Wou'd'st thou, like Mars, to reap those heav'nly charms,
“Wou'd'st thou, be bound in golden Venus' arms?
‘Ah! yes, fair son of Jove! (the youth reply'd)
‘With chains on chains, inextricably ty'd;
‘Tho' all Olympus were one common eye;
‘Tho' all your gods, your goddesses stood by;
‘Like happy Mars, to reap those heav'nly charms,
‘I wou'd be bound in golden Venus' arms.
‘With chains on chains, inextricably ty'd;
‘Tho' all Olympus were one common eye;
‘Tho' all your gods, your goddesses stood by;
‘Like happy Mars, to reap those heav'nly charms,
‘I wou'd be bound in golden Venus' arms.
He spoke. Loud peals of laughter shake the skies,
When thus to Vulcan, Neptune mild applies.
‘At length, 'tis time to close the shameful scene:
‘Enough hast thou indulg'd thy lawful spleen.
‘Deliver Mars from these inglorious bands;
‘My self shall see thee paid the full demands.
To whom, thus Vulcan. ‘Urge us not too far!
‘How can we trust that treach'rous god of war?
‘Shou'd we unloose him, god, at thy request;
‘Where lies our surety?—In that faithless breast?
When thus to Vulcan, Neptune mild applies.
‘At length, 'tis time to close the shameful scene:
‘Enough hast thou indulg'd thy lawful spleen.
‘Deliver Mars from these inglorious bands;
‘My self shall see thee paid the full demands.
To whom, thus Vulcan. ‘Urge us not too far!
‘How can we trust that treach'rous god of war?
76
‘Where lies our surety?—In that faithless breast?
‘For that (again th'indulgent pow'r reply'd)
‘If not in him, at least in me confide.
‘At my request the warrior god unloose,
‘Neptune shall pay the mulct, if Mars refuse.
‘If not in him, at least in me confide.
‘At my request the warrior god unloose,
‘Neptune shall pay the mulct, if Mars refuse.
‘'Tis thine (re-answers Vulcan) to command;
And to the net applies his skilful hand.
And to the net applies his skilful hand.
To Thracian hills the god of war removes;
The laughter-loving dame to Paphian groves;
Where num'rous slaves her pleasing pow'r invoke:
And num'rous altars, rich in odours, smoke.
Round their disorder'd queen, in wonted state,
The graces, her assiduous hand-maids, wait;
Her wearied limbs refresh with heav'nly show'rs,
Ambrosial sweets! that bath immortal pow'rs.
Then cloath her glorious in her robes divine;
And give in her full blaze of charms to shine.
The laughter-loving dame to Paphian groves;
Where num'rous slaves her pleasing pow'r invoke:
And num'rous altars, rich in odours, smoke.
Round their disorder'd queen, in wonted state,
The graces, her assiduous hand-maids, wait;
Her wearied limbs refresh with heav'nly show'rs,
Ambrosial sweets! that bath immortal pow'rs.
Then cloath her glorious in her robes divine;
And give in her full blaze of charms to shine.
So to his lyre the bard attun'd his song;
And fill'd, with ravishment, the list'ning throng.
And fill'd, with ravishment, the list'ning throng.
FINIS.
| The loves of hero and leander | |