PA til CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY BOUGHT ■WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND GIVEN IN 1 89 1 BY HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE DATE DUt 3J 31 {m-?mm:m APr-^HHSTK R D^^lTl9^B1B^^ M PA 6395.C77" ""'"""*>' '""'"'» ...Hpface's odes. 3 1924 026 490 684 The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924026490684 HORACE'S ODES. HOEACE'S ODES ENGLISHED AND IMITATED BY VARIOUS HANDS. SELECTED AND AEEANGED BY CHARLES W. P. COOPER. "Horace reigns supreme as tbe lyrical singer most, enthroned in the afiectionSj most congenial to the taste, of the complex multitude of students in every land and in every age," — Edward, Lord Lvrroif. LONDON : GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 1880. A. J -2- "i H OT . c . CHISWICK PRESS: — C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO. TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. PREFACE. THE popularity of tlie poet whose writings have taken snch a hold upon English literary taste as to have exercised the imitative talent of writers so diverse in their genius as Surrey and Cowper, Marvel and Hood, Dryden and Johnson, Milton and Horace Smith, is sufficiently well established to neces- sitate but few words of introduction to this collection, which aims at illastrating, in a necessarily partial degree, the influence of Horace upon three centuries of English poets and scholars. I have thought it not undesirable, at a time when each succeeding year witnesses the advent of at least one new Horatian translator, to rescue from their com- parative oblivion the labours of the earlier workers in the same inexhaustible field, by giving due prominence in my selection to the better specimens of the trans- lated odes in the once standard versions of Barton Holyday, Panshawe, Hawkins, and Creech. A com- parison of these with the later work of Francis and Duncombe, Boscawen, Mitford, and others, will not be without interest to the Horatian scholar as illustrating VI PREFACE. the variations of treatment and interpretation, and the diverse views as to the obligations of the poetical trans- lator that have prevailed at different periods of our literary history. Prior to the publication of Sir Thomas Hawkins's Odes in 1625, the "fashion" for translating Horace which has been paramount for the last two hundred and fifty years, had made little way. The critical acu- men of an age that had not long been educated out of an excessive admiration of Lucan and Statius into an equally exaggerated estimate of Virgil and Ovid, — in- clining with Richard Stanyhurst, the eccentric trans- lator of the "^neid," to rank the two latter as the " most considerable " of the Latin poets, while classing Horace with Ennius as " mere rabblement," — could hardly be sufficiently cultivated to permit of any wide appreciation of our poet's delicacy and refinement, or his humour, urbanity, and good sense, qualities which appeal more especially to the keener critical insight of more generally cultured generations. Thomas Drant, Prebendary of St. Paul's, who pub- lished the Epistles, Satires, and Art of Poetry in 1567 (the first serious attempt at rendering any considerable portion of the works of Horace into English verse), appears to have undertaken his task solely as a labour of love. He was impressed with the conviction that the standard of public taste in his day was hardly equal to a just appreciation of the beauties of his favourite author. " I feare me," he says, in his address PREFACE. VU to the reader, "a mimber do so thincke of thys booke as I was aunswered by a printer not long agone ; though, sayth he, your boke be wyse and ful of learnyng, yet peradventure it wyl not be saleable ; signifying indeed that flimflames and guegawes be they never so sleight and slender are sooner rapte up thenne those which be lettered and darkly makings." Drant's translations are uneven in merit, and often harsh and paraphrastic, the most successful being perhaps the Epistle to TibuUus (lib. i. Bpis. iv.), which is worth quoting, especially as — not having translated any of the odes — ^he is not represented in the following selections : — " TybuUus, frend aad gentle judge Of all that I do clatter, What dost thou all this while abroade, How might I leame the matter ? Dost thou invent such worthy workes As Cassus' poemes passe ? Or doste thou closelie creeping lurcke Amid the wholsome grasse ? Addicted to philosophie, Contemning not a whitte That's seemlie for an honest man And for a man of witte ; Not thou a body without breast ; The Goddes made thee t'excell In shape ; the Goddes have lent thee goodes And art to use them well. What better thinge unto her childe Can wishe the mother kinde, Than wisedom, and in fyled frame To utter oute his minde 5 PRE I ACE. To have fayre favore, fame enoughe And perfect sf aye and health Things trim at will, and not to feele The emptie ebb of wealth. Twixt hope to have, and care to kepe Twixt feare and wrathe awaye Consumes the time : eche daye that cummes Thinke it the latter daye. The hower that cummes unloked for Shall cum more welcum aye. Thou shall me fynde fat and well fed As pubble as may be ; And, when thou wilt, a merrie mate To laughe and chat with thee." A scrupulous verbal accuracy was the prevailing characteristic of the earlier school of translators, who consistently- resisted the temptation to adorn their work with any original poetic graces, aiming at the presenta- tion with a rigorous fidelity, not only of their author's ideas, but of the actual turn of his expressions ; a theory of the duty of a translator which, however laudable in the honesty of its intention, obviously presents, from the difference of idiom, serious obstacles to a graceful and perspicuous rendering, and results frequently, even with writers of such eminence as Marlowe and Ben Jonson, in compositions distinguished for little but inelegance and obscurity. Milton's verbal rendering of the Ode to Pyrrha and Surrey's spirited translation of the second and fourth books of the ".^neid" are pre-eminent among the honourable exceptions to this rule. Paraphrase, al- though practised, found no consistent advocate until PREFACE. IX George Chapman, the translator of Homer, advancing the legitimacy of a more free rendering than was allowed by his contemporaries, nrged that " it is the part of eyery knowing and judicious interpreter, not to follow the number and order of words but the materiall things themselves, and sentences to weigh diligently, and to clothe and adorne them with words, and such a stile and form of oration as are most apt for the language into which they are converted." Chapman's precepts and example, and the influence of Cowley and Sir John Denham — exerted, later on, in the same direction — opened the door to a considerable amount of licence, exemplified in the loose imitations and paraphrases of Cowley and Dryden, which in their turn, set an example of freedom of treatment to succeeding writers. From the middle of the seven- teenth century, " there is scarcely," to quote the late Lord Lytton, " a man of letters who has not at one time or other translated or imitated some of the odes." From the large amount of material thus brought to my hand, I have made my selections to the best of my judgment, giving due weight in my choice both to the merit of the translation and the reputation of the translator. The difficulty, however, has often consisted in determining what to reject, rather than what to select ; where two or three versions of a popular ode are given, as many dozens were easily obtainable, and the " Carmen Amabceum," the most often translated and imitated of any poem, ancient or modern, might almost X PREFACE. have alone supplied material for a moderate-sized volume. In the second part of the book are included nume- rous burlesques, political and social satires, poems owing a beauty of thought or a felicity of expression to the direct inspiration of an ode of Horace, and compositions which, written in imitation of his style and manner, are occasionally, as in the case of Marvel's magnificent Ode to Cromwell, more distinctly Horatian than most of the professed translations. These selections are limited to the writers of the earlier part of the present century, the latest, in point of date (with the exception of an ode by Barry Cornwall), being those of Leigh Hunt and the Rev. John Mitford. CONTENTS. PAET I. Book I. Tram&lator. Page Ode 1. Di". Broome 1 2. Barton Holyday 5 3. Dryden 7 4. WraBgham ........ 9 - 5. Cowley 10 5. Milton 11 5. Leigh Hunt 12 5. Thomas Hood 12 6. Gilbert Wakefield 13 7. Dr. Francis 14 8. John Evelyn 15 9. Dryden 16 9. Cowper 18 10. Alexander Brome 18 11. Sir Thomas Hawkins 19 12. Christopher Pitt 20 13. Sir William Temple 22 14. I. H. Browne 23 15. Elizabeth Carter 24 16. W. Duncombe 26 17. Sir James Marriott 27 18. Sir Richard Eanshawe 28 19. Congreve 29 20. Wrangham 30 21. Wrangham 31 22. Roscommon 31 22. Dr. Johnson 33 23. Lord Glenbervie 34 25. H. J. Pye 34 26. Dr. Francis 35 27. Sir Richard Fanshawe 36 xii CONTENTS. Book I. Translator. Page Ode 29. John Smith 37 30. Dr. Francis 37 31. Samuel Boyse 38 32. " Gentleman's Magazine ' 39 33. T.Creech 40 34. Sir E. Fanshawe 41 ' 35. T. Bourne 42 36. Barton Holyday 44 38. Cowper 45 38. Hartley Coleridge 45 Book II. Ode 2. G. Wakefield 46 3. J. H. Merivale 47 4. Bichard Duke 49 5. T. Creech 50 6. G. Wakefield 51 8. Sir Charles Sedley 52 9. Dr. Johnson 53 10. Lord Surrey 54 10. Tottel's " Miscellany " 55 10. Tottel's " Miscellany " 57 10. Sir Philip Sidney 58 10. Cowper 58 12. Sir Jeffrey Gilbert 60 13. Bichard Crashaw 61 14. Balph Bernal 63 15. J. Mitford 64 16. Cowper 65 18. J. Ashmore 67 19. Wrangham 68 20. Wrangham 69 Book UI. Ode 1. Cowley 71 2. Swift 73 3. Addison 74 3. Byron 78 4. Dr. Francis 79 5. Wrangham 82 6. Roscommon 84 7. John Smith 85 8. Thomas Flatman 86 9. Herrick 88 9. Atterbury • . . .89 CONTENTS. xui Book III. Translator. Page Ode 10. William Boscaweu 90 11. Sir K. Fanshawe 93 12. Creech 94 13. J. Warton 95 13. James Seattle 96 16. J. Mitford 97 17. Barton Holyday 99 18. J. Warton 100 20. Barton Holyday 101 21. N. Rowe 102 22. W. Boscawen 104 23. Sir T. Hawlcins 104 25. Barry Cornwall 105 26. Alexander Brome 106 27. Sir R. Fanshawe 107 28. Sir T. Hawkins 109 29. Sir John Beaumont 110 29. Dryden 112 30. Sir E. Fanshawe 116 Book IV. Ode 1. Ben Jonson 117 2. Cowley 118 3. Atterbury 120 4. Iiord Lyttleton 121 6. Wrangham 124 7. Tottel's " Miscellany " 125 7. Dr. Johnson 127 8. Sir E. Fanshawe 128 9. George Stepney 129 9. Dr. Francis 132 10. Sir E. Sherburne 134 10. Sir John Mennis 135 11. Anna Seward 136 12. Lord Thurlow 138 13. W. Cartwright 139 15. Sir T. Hawkins 141 2. Dryden 143 3. W. Boscawen 146 7. Anna Seward 147 13. " Gentleman's Magazine " . . . . .148 14. Tom Brown 149 15. " Gentleman's Magazine " 150 15. Anna Seward 151 CONTENTS. PAET II. Horatian Ode. Andrew Marvel . ... . . . 155 To John Miller, ode 1, book 1. C. Anstey . . . .159 To John Bull, ode L, book 1. James and Horace Smith. . 162 Ad Kegem Carolum, ode 2, book 1. Andrew Marvel . .164 Translation, ode 2, book 1. Andrew Marvel .... 166 Brighton, ode 4, book 1. James and Horace Smith . . 168 Imitation, ode 5, book 1. AphraBehn 169 Imitation, ode 5, book 1. Chatterton 170 To the Director Merlin, ode 5, book 1. Lord Morpeth, "Anti- Jacobin Eeview" 171 The Jilt, ode 5, book 1 . James and Horace Smith . . .172 Walter Scott, ode 6, book 1. James and Horace Smith . .173 Imitation, ode 9, book 1. Congreve 175 Winter, ode 9, book 1. James and Horace Smith . . .177 Imitation, ode 11, book 1. AphraBehn 178 Imitation, ode 11, book 1. Samuel Boyse .... 179 An Address to his Gunboats by Citizen Muskein, ode 14, book 1. Lord Morpeth, "Anti- Jacobin Review" .... 180 Edinburgh Reviewers, ode 1 6, book 1 . James and Horace Smith 181 The Welch Cottage, ode 17, book 1. James and Horace Smith 182 Imitation, ode 19, book 1. Chatterton 184 Pleasing Petulance, ode 19, book 1. James and Horace Smith 185 A Poet's Invitation, ode 20, book 1. G. Daniel , . . 186 Imitation, ode 22, book 1. Roscommon 187 Cupid's Invitation, ode 23, book 1. James and Sorace Smith . 188 To the Earl of Bath, ode 25, book 1. Sir C. Hanbury Williams 189 The Straw Bonnet, ode 26, book 1. James and Horace Smith 190 Imitation, ode 27, book 1. Person 191 The Bumper Toast, ode 27, book 1. James and Horace Smith 192 Lucretius and Dr. Busby, ode 28, book 1. James and Horace Smith . . ■ 193 Imitation, ode 30, book 1. Author of the " Dnel" . . . 194 Imitation, ode 31, book 1. J. Oldham 195 To his Lyre, ode 32, book I. Hamilton of Bangour . . 197 The Comic Muse, ode 32, book 1. James and Horace Smith . 198 Imitation, ode 33, book 1. " Gentleman's Magazine " . . 199 Imitation, ode 34, book 1. " Gentleman's Magazine '' _ . . 199 Ode to Anarchy, ode 35, book 1. Lord Morpeth, "Anti-Jacobin Review" ' 201 To Fortune, ode 35, book 1. James and Horace Smith . . 203 Imitation, ode 38, book 1. " New Foundling Hospital for Wit " 205 The Bill of Fare, ode 38, book 1. James and Horace Smith . 205 CONTENTS. XT Page Lord Griffin to the Earl of Scarsdale, ode 4, book 2. N. Eowe 206 Qn a Pair Gentlewoman scarce Marriageable, ode 5, book 2. Earl of Pembroke 207 The Unfledged Muse, ode 5, book 2. James and Horace Smith 208 Imitation, ode 6, book 2. Sir J. Marriott .... 209 The Classic Yilla, ode 6, book 2.' James and Horace Smith . 210 To Nelly O'Brien, ode 8, book 2. J. HaU Stevenson . .211 To Lord Moira, ode 8, book 2. G. Ellis, " Anti- Jacobin Re- view" 212 The Young Widow, ode 9, book 2. James and Horace Smith 214 Imitation, ode 10, book 2. Jasper Hey wood . . . .215 Prom Paul Poley to Nicholas Pazakerley, ode H, book 2. William, Earl of Bath 218 His Age, odes 14, 18, book 2 ; and ode 7, book 4. B. Herrick 220 To Eev. Mr. Langhorne, ode 14, book 2. " Gentleman's Magazine " .225 Imitation, ode 14, book 2. Sir William Jones . . . 227 Epigram, ode 14, book 2. E. H. Barham .... 228 To Lord Bathurst, ode 15, book 2. E. Owen Cambridge . 229 New Buildings, ode 15, book 2. James and Horace Smith . 230 To the Hon. Philip Yorke, ode 16, book 2. Soame Jenyns . 231 To John Shore, Esq., ode 16, book 2. Warren Hastings . 233 Wit on the Wing, ode 16, book 2. James and Horace Smith . 235 Cobbett, ode 1 9, book 2. James and Horace Smith . .238 A Bit of an Ode to Mr. Fox, ode 20, book 2. G. Ellis or J. H. Frere, " Anti-Jacobin Eeview " 239 To the Wife of the Captain of a Merchantman, ode 7, book 3. " Gentleman's Magazine " 241 A Dialogue between God and the Soul, ode 9, book 3. " Eeli- quise Wottonianse " 243 A Dialogue between Tonson and Congreve, ode 9, book 3. N. Kowe 244 Dialogue between a certain Personage and his Minister, ode 9, books. "TheBoUiad" 245 On the Return of the Prince Regent to Brighton, ode 14, book 3. G.Daniel 247 To a faded Beauty, ode 15, book 3. G. Daniel . . .249 Song, ode 21, book 3. Author of the " Duel "... 250 To Bacchus, ode 25, book 3. Herrick 251 Ode, ode 25, book 3. Geo. Canning, "Anti-Jacobin Eeview" . 251 Imitation, ode 1, book 4. Pope . . . . . . 253 To Dr. Bentley, ode 2, book 4. William Titley . . . 255 To William Titley, ode 2, book 4. Dr. Bentley . . .256 Imitation, ode 3, book 4. " Gentleman's Magazine " . . 257 To Humphrey French, ode 9, book 4. Swift .... 259 Imitation, ode 9, book 4. " New Foundling Hospital for Wit " 261 XVI CONTENTS. Page Ode, ode 10, book 4. M. Prior 265 Imitation, ode 10, book 4. Alexander Cunningham , . 267 Imitation, ode 13, book 4. Thomas Seward .... 267 To the Duke of Dorset, epode 2. Key. S. Shepherd . . 269 In Praise of a Country Life, epode 2. George Daniel . . 273 An Ode against Tobacco, epode 3. " Gentleman's Magazine " 274 Imitation, epode 14. T. Brown 275 The False One, epode 15. Charles Cotton .... 276 Town and Country. Thomas Hood 277 PART I. TRANSLATIONS. THE ODES OF HORACE. BOOK I. ODE I. TO MJSOEJSTAS. MoBoenas atavis edits regibus. M^CENAS, whose high lineage springs From a long race of ancient kings; Patron and friend ! thy honour'd name At once is my defence and fame. There are, who with fond transport praise The chariot thundering in the race ; Where conquest won, and palms bestow'd, Lift the proud mortal to a god. The man who counts the people's voice. Or doats on offices and noise ; Or they who till the peaceful fields, And reap what bounteous Nature yields, Unmoved the merchant's wealth behold, Nor hazard happiness for gold, Untempted by whole worlds of gain To stem the bUlows of the main. The merchant, when the storm invades, Envies the quiet of the shades ; 4 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. But soon re-launches from the shore, Dreading the crime of being poor. Some, careless, waste the mirthful day With generous wines and wanton play, Indulgent of the genial hour, By spring, or rill, or shady bower. Some hear with joy the clanging jar Of trumpets that alarm to war. While matrons tremble at the breath That calls their sons to arms and death. The sportsman, train'd in storms, defies The chilling blast and freezing skies ; Unmindful of his bride, in vain Soft beauty pleads ! along the plain The stag he chases, or beguiles The furious boar into his toils. For you the blooming ivy grows. Proud to adorn your learned brows ; Patron of letters you arise, Grow to a god, and mount the skies. Humbly in breezy shades I stray. Where sylvans dance and satyrs play : Contented to advance my claim Only o'er men without a name ; Transcribing what the Muses sing, Harmonious to the pipe or string. But if, indulgently, you deign To rank me with the lyric train, Aloft the towering muse shall rise On bolder wings, and gain the skies. De. Beoomb.^ ' William Broome died 1745. He assisted Pope in his translations from Homer. See Henley's Epigram : " Pope came off clean with Homer ; but they say Broome went before and kindly swept the way." ODES. BOOK I. ODE II. TO AUGUSTUS C^SAR. Ja/m satis terris nims atque dirce. Argument. What dreadful tempests Some mthrcdl To vindicate great Oces(w's fall ! The empire prosperous remains Willie blest Augustus safely reigns. NOW Father Jove doth earth assail With store of snow and vengeful hail ; His glittering hand high turrets smites, And city frights ; Affrights the world, lest Pyrrha's reign Return with uncouth shapes again : When Proteus chased all his flocks To hills and rocks ; And shoales of fish clung to each tree, Where ring-doves pearched wont to be, And tim'rous hindes did plunging keep I' th' broadspread deep. We yellow Tiber have beheld, With waves from Tyrrhen shores repell'd, Hurl down kings' palaces on the plaines And Vesta's fanes : Pope refers disparagingly to him in " The Dunciad," and in the " Art of Sinking in Poetry " describes him as one of those " parrots who repeat another's words in such a hoarse odd tone as to make them seem their own." TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. While he to plaintfuU Ilia boasts Revenge : and on sinister coasts (Mangre Jove) wandringly doth glide Th' indulgent tide. Of friends that sv^ords in friends did stain, Which better had the Persian slain : Of fights, shall hear (by parents' sin) Successors thin. On what God shall the people call To stay the wayning Empire's fall ? With what prayer shall the virgin quire Deaf Vesta tire ? To whom shall great Jove delegate Our sins' atonement ? Come, though late. Who, in white clouds invested be'st, Apollo's priest ! Or rather come, blith Bricine, Whom Mirth and Cupid doe enshrine : Or, if thy offspring in neglect. Thou Mars respect, Who sated art with warlike play, Whom oryes, nor burnisht helmes affray, Nor More's fierce lookes, who grimly show 'Gainst bloody foe. Or in Augustus' shape array'd. Bright Maia's son, with wings display'd, O come, and vengeance deign to send As Caesar's friend. Late may'st thou unto Heav'n attain. And long among glad Romans reign ; Nor, wrathfuU at our crimes, may Death With rapid breath ODES. BOOK I. 7 Sweep thee hence. Rather triumph here, Love style of Prince and Father dear, Nor, CsBsar, spare t' avenge the Mede, While thou dost lead. Babton Holtday.' ODE III. TO VIRGIL. Sio te Diva potens Gypri, INSCRIBED TO THE EAEL OF ROSCOMMON ON HIS INTENDED VOYAGE TO IRELAND. SO may the auspicious Queen of Love, And the twin stars (the seed of Jove), And he who rules the raging wind, To thee, sacred ship ! be kind, And gentle breezes fill thy sails. Supplying soft Etesian gales. As thou, to whom the Muse commends The best of poets and of friends. Dost thy committed pledge restore. And land him safely on the shore ; And save the better part of me From perishing with him at sea. Sure he who first the passage tried, In harden' d oak his heart did hide. And ribs of iron arm'd his side ! Or his, at least, in hollow wood Who tempted first the briny flood ; Nor fear'd the winds' contending roar, Nor billows beating on the shore ; Nor Hyades portending rain ; Nor all the tyrants of the main. ' Barton Holyday, divine and poet, was one of the earliest trans- lators of tlie Odes. (1624.) 8 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. What form of death could him affright, Who, Tiiiconoem'd, with steadfast sight. Could view the surges mounting steep, And monsters rolling in the deep ? Could through the ranks of ruin go. With storms above, and rocks below ? In vain did Nature's wise command Divide the waters from the land, If daring ships, and men profane, Invade th' inviolable main, Th' eternal fences overleap. And pass at will the boundless deep. No toil, no hardship can restrain Ambitious man, inured to pain ; The more confin'd, the more he tries. And at forbidden quarry flies. Thus bold Prometheus did aspire, y^And stole from Heav'n the reed of fire ; A train of ills, a ghastly crew, The robber's blazing trace pursue : Fierce Famine with her meagre face. And fevers of the fiery race In swarms th' offending wretch surround. All brooding on the blasted ground : And limping Death, lash'd on by Fate, Comes up to shorten half our date. This made not Dsedalus beware With borrow'd wings to sail in air ; To Hell Alcides forced his way. Plunged through the lake and snatoh'd the prey. Nay, scarce the gods, or heavenly climes Are safe from our audacious crimes ; We reach at Jove's imperial crown. And pull th' unwilling thunder down. Detden. ODES. BOOK I. ODE IV. TO LUCIUS SBXTIUS. Solvitur aeris hiems grata vice veris et Fomoni. BY spring and Zephyr's gladsome sway Unloosed, stern Winter hastes away. Again the vessel tempts the sea ; The herds again bound o'er the lea ; His ingle-nook the hind forsakes, And frosts no longer bleach the brakes. Beneath the moon, o'er grassy meads The sprightly dance soft Yenns leads ; And link'd, the nymphs' and graces' train With foot alternate beat the plain ; WhUe Mnlciber, with kindling fires, The Cyclops toilsome forge inspires. Now round the brow be myrtle twined In verdant braid ; now chaplets bind Of flowers, from earth's freed bosom thrown : The sacrifice now lead to Faun, Lambkin, or kid, whiche'er he claim, In grove deep-hallow'd with his name. Pale Death knocks with impartial foot At prince's hall and peasant's hut : Warn'd, Sestius, by life's brief amount, Forbear on distant bliss to count : Soon, soon to realms of night away. Hurried, where fabled spectres play. Thou shalt 'neath Pluto's shadowy dome, Thyself a shadow, thither come ; 10 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. No more shall dice allot to thee The banquet's jovial sovereignty ; Nor Ohloe more shalt thou admire, The virgin's pride, the youth's desire. Aechdeaoon "Weangham.' ODE V. TO PTERHA. Qms nmlta gracilis te puer in rosd. whom now, Pyrrha, art thou kind ? T To what heart-ravisht lover Dost thou thy golden locks unbind, Thy hidden sweets discover, And with large bounty open set All the bright stores of thy rich cabinet ? Ah, simple youth, how oft will he Of thy chang'd faith complain ? And his own fortunes find to be So airy and so vain. Of so cameleon-like an hue. That still their colour changes with it too ? How oft, alas ! will he admire The blackness of the skies ? Trembling to hear the winds sound higher. And see the billows rise ; Poor unexperienc'd he Who ne'er, alas ! before had been at sea. He enjoys the calmy sunshine now. And no breath stirring hears, ' Archdeacon Wrangham published a translation of the four books of Odes in 1821. ODES. BOOK I. 11 In the clear heaven of thy brow No smallest cload appears. He sees thee gentle, fair, and gay, And trusts the faithless April of thy May. Unhappy ! thrice unhappy he, T' whom thou untried dost shine ! But there's no danger now for me, Since o'er Loretto's shrine, In witness of the shipwreck past, My consecrated vessel hangs at last. Cowley. THE SAME. w HAT slender youth, bedew'd with liquid odours, Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave, Pyrrha ? For whom bind'st thou In wreaths thy golden hair ? Plain in thy neatness ? O, how oft shall he On faith and changed gods complain, and seas Rough with black winds and storms, Unwonted shall admire ! Who now enjoys thee, credulous, all gold, Who, always vacant, always amiable, Hopes thee, of flattering gales Unmindful ! Hapless they To whom thou, untried, seemst fair. Me in my vow'd Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung My dank and dropping weeds To the stern god of sea. Milton. 12 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. THE SAME. PYRRHA ! What ardent stripling now, In one of thy embower'd retreats, Wonld press thee to indulge his vow. Amidst a world of flowers and sweets ? For whom are bound thy tresses bright. With unconcern so exquisite ? Alas ! how oft shall he bewail His fickle stars and faithless gale. And stare, with unaccustom'd eyes, When the black winds and waters rise ; Though now the sunshine hour beguiles His bark along thy golden smiles ; Trusting to see thee, for his play For ever keep smooth holiday ! Poor dazzled fools who bask beside thee, And trust, because they never tried thee ! For me, and for my dangers past. The grateful picture hangs at last Within the mighty Neptune's fane, Who snatch'd me, dripping, from the main. Leigh Hunt. THE SAME. TO GOLDEISTHAIR. AH, Pyrrha, tell me, whose the happy lot To woo thee on a couch of lavish roses, Who, bathed in odorous dews, in his fond arms encloses Thee, in some happy grot ? For whom those nets of golden-gloried hair Dost thon entwine in cunning carelessnesses ? Alas, poor boy ! who thee, in fond belief, caresses. Deeming thee wholly fair ! ODES. BOOK I. 13 How oft shall he thy fickleness bemoan, When fair to fonl shall change ; and he unskilful In pilotage, beholds, with tempests wildly wilful, The happy calm o'erthrown ! He who now hopes that thou wilt ever prove All void of care, and full of fond endearing, Knows not that varies more than Zephyrs ever- veering, The fickle breath of love. Ah, hapless he to whom, like seas untried. Thou seemest fair ! That my sea-going's ended My votive tablet proves, to those dark gods suspended. Who o'er the waves preside. Thomas Hood. ODE VI. TO AGRIPPA. Scriberis Va/ris fortis et hostium. IN strains majestic, Varius, bard sublime ! The glories of thy conquering arm shall sing, Thy feats on every wave, in every clime, Borne on the plumes of the McBonian wing. These high exploits, or fierce Achilles' rage. Daunt the faint warbling of my feeble lyre, Daunt the long labours of the pilgrim sage : Par humbler themes my humbler Muse inspire. She, all unconscious of th' enraptjir'd lays. That swell the loudly sounding strings along ; Nor thine presumes, nor CsBsar's peerless praise, With genius cold and unimpassion'd song. 14 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. What bard shall paint, unbless'd with Homer's strains, In mail of adamant, the son of Jove ? Marion, embrown'd with dust on Trojan plains? Tydides, rival to the powers above ? Convivial joys, my sportive Muse requires, The ravish'd kiss, the virgin's playful strife : While, now at ease, now scorch'd with am'rons fires — Transition sweet ! glides on my chequer'd life. Gilbert Wakefield. ODE VII. TO MUNATIUS PLANOUS. Laiudahvmi alii olairam, Shodon, cmt Mitylen&n. LET other poets, in harmonious lays. Immortal Rhodes or Mitylene praise, Or Ephesus, or Corinth's towery pride, Girt by the rolling main on either side ; Or Thebes or Delphos, for their gods renown'd. Or Tempo's plains with flowery honors crown'd. There are, who sing in everlasting strains. The towers, where wisdom's virgin-goddess reigns ; And, ceaseless toiling, court the trite reward Of olive, pluck'd by every vulgar bard. For Juno's fame, th' unnumber'd tuneful throng, With rich Mycense grace their favorite song, And Argos boast, of pregnant glebe to feed The warlike horse, and animate the breed ; But me, nor patient Lacedaemon charms, Nor fair Larissa with such transport warms. As pure Albunea's far-resounding source. And rapid Anio, headlong in his course. Or Tibur, fenced by groves from solar beams. And fruitful orchards, bath'd by ductile streams. ODES. BOOK I. 15 As Notus often, when the welkin lowers, Sweeps off the clouds, nor teems perpetual showers ; So let thy wisdom, free from anxions strife, In mellow wine dissolve the cares of life. Whether the camp, with banners bright-display 'd. On Tibnr holds thee, in its thick-wrought shade. When Teucer from his sire and country fled. With poplar wreaths the hero crown'd his head. Reeking with wine, and thus his friends address'd : Deep sorrow brooding in each anxious breast. Bold let us follow through the foamy tides, Where fortune, better than a father, guides : Avaunt despair, when Teucer calls to fame. The same your augur, and your guide the same. Another Salamis, in foreign clime With rival pride shall raise her head sublime. So Phcebus nods ; ye sons of valour true. Full often tried in deeds of deadlier hue. To-day with wine drive every care away, To-morrow tempt again the boundless sea. De. Feancis.' ODE VIII. TO LTDIA. Lydia, die, jper omnes. LTDIA, I conjure you, say. Why haste you so to make away Poor Sybaris with love ? Why hates he now the open air ? Why heat, and clouds of dust to bear. Does he no more approve ? ' Philip Francis, D.D., the father of the reputed author of Junius, is best known as the translator of Horace's complete works. His work achieved considerable popularity, and was re-edited by Pye, the lanreat. 16 TBAN8LATI0NS OF HORACE. Why leaves lie off his martial pride ? Why is he now afraid to ride Upon his Gallic steed ? Why swims he not the Tibxir o'er ? Or wrestles as he did before ? Whence do his fears proceed ? Why boasts he not his limbs grown black With bearing arms, or his strong back With which he threw the bar ? Is he like Thetis' son conceal'd, And from all manly sports withheld, To keep him safe from war ? John Evelyn. ODE IX. TO THALIARCHUS (paraphrase). Vides, ut alta stet nive aamdidimim. BEHOLD yon mountain's hoary height. Made higher with new mounts of snow ; Again, behold the winter weight Oppress the labouring woods below : And streams with icy fetters bound Benumb'd and cramp'd to solid ground. With well-heap'd logs dissolve the cold. And feed the genial hearth with fires ; Produce the wine that makes us bold, And love of sprightly wit inspires. For what hereafter shall betide, God, if 'tis worth His care, provide. ODES. BOOK I. 17 Let Him alone, with what he made, To toss and turn the world below r At his command the storms invade ; The winds by his commission blow^ Till, with a nod, he bids them cease. And calm returns, and all is peace. To-morrow and her works defy,^ Lay hold npon the present honr, And snatch the pleasures passing by,. To put them out of Fortune's power.. Nor Love, nor Love's delights, disdain ; Whate'er thou gett'st to-day is gain. Secure those golden, early joys, That youth, unsour'd by sorrow bears, Ere withering Time the taste destroys With sickness and unwieldy years. For active sports, for pleasing rest. This is the time to be possest ; The best is but in season best. Th' appointed hour of promis'd bliss, The pleasing whisper in the dark. The half-unwilling, willing kiss. The laugh that guides thee to the mark, When the kind nymph would coyness feign. And hides but to be found again : These, these are joys, the gods for youth ordain. Detden. ' Quid sit futurnm eras, fuge qusercre. For what to-morrow shall disclose, May spoil what you to-night propose : England may change ; or Chloe sti-ay ; Loye and life are for to-day. Matthew Peior. C 18 TRANSZATIONS OF HORACE. THE SAME. SBB'ST thoti yon monntain laden 'with deep snow, The groyes beneath their fleecy burdens bow, The streams, congeal'd, forget to flow. Come, thaw the cold, and lay a cheerful pile Of fuel on the hearth ; Broach the best cask, and make old winter smile With seasonable mirth. This be our part — let Heaven dispose the rest ; If Jove command, the winds shall sleep That now wage war upon the foamy deep. And gentle gales spring from the balmy west. E'en let us shift to-morrow as we may. When to-morrow's pass'd away, We at least shall have to say, We have liv'd another day ; Tour auburn locks will soon be silver'd o'er. Old age is at our heels, and youth returns no more. OOWPEK. ODE X. TO MERCURY. Mercuri faounde nepos Atlantis. SWBBT-tongu'd Cyllenius, son of May, Who man's first rudeness didst allay With eloquence and graceful parts Of wrastling arts ; I'll sing of thee, Heavn's messenger. By whom crookt lyres invented were; Crafty to hide whatere's bereft By sportive theft. ODES. BOOK I. 19 While thee (0 youth) his threats affray, Except thou his stol'n beef repay ; With no shaft-bearing quiver fraught, Apollo laught. Rich Priam too deserting Troy, Th' Atreids escap'd with thy convoy, Thessalian watches, and each tent 'Gainst Trojans bent. Thou in bless'd mansions ghosts unbowers, And thy Caducean rod o'erpowers Th' exiles tribe ; whom gods above, And lower love. Alexander Beome.' ODE XI, TO LEUCONOB. Tu ne qucesieris, scire nefas, quern mihi, quem tibi. STRIYB not, Leuconoe ! to know what end The gods above to me, or thee, will send ; Nor with astrologers consult at all, That thou may'st better know what can befall ; — Whether thou liv'st more winters, or thy last Be this, which Tyrrhen waves 'gainst rocks do cast ; Be wise ! drink free, and, in so short a space, Do not protracted hopes of life embrace. Whilst we are talking, envious time doth slide ; This day's thine own, the next may be deny'd. Sir Thomas Hawkins.'' ' Alexander Brome edited a translation of Horace (1660) which includes all the Odes previously translated by Fanshawe, Hawkins, and Barton Holyday, the omissions being supplied by the editor and his friends. This was the first complete translation published. ' Sir Thomas Hawkins published (1625) " selected and translated Odes of Horace, the best of lyrick poets, contayning much morftllity and sweetnesse." 20 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. ODE xn. TO AtTGUSTtJS. . Quern virwm cmt Tieroa, Tjyra, vel acri. WHAT man, what hero, will you raise, By the shrill pipe or deeper lyre ? What god, O Clio, will yon praise. And teach the echoes to admire ? Amidst the shades of Helicon, Cold Hsemus top, or Pindns' head Whence the glad forests hasten'd down, And danced as tuneful Orpheus played. Taught by the Muse he stopp'd the fall Of rapid floods, and charm'd the wind : The listening oaks obey'd the call, And left the wondering hUls behind. Whom should I first record but Jove, Whose sway extends o'er sea and land, The king of men and gods above, Who holds the seasons in command ? To rival Jove, shall none aspire ; None shall to equal glory rise ; But Pallas claims, beneath her sire The second honours of the skies. ■ To thee, Bacchus, great in war. To Dian will I strike the string, Of Phoebus wounding from afar, In numbers like his own I'll sing. The Muse, Aloides shall resound ; * The twins of lieda shall succeed; ODES. BOOK i: 21 This for the standing fight renown'd, And that for managing the steed. Whose star shines innocently stUl : The clouds disperse : the tempests cease ; The waves, obedient to their will, Sink down, and hush their rage to peace. Next shall I Nnma'a pious reign, Or thine, O Romulus, relate ; Or Rome by Brutus freed again ; Or haughty Cato's glorious fate ? Or dwell on noble Paulus famej Too lavish of the patriot's blood ? Or Regulus' immortal name Too obstinately just and good ? These with OamUlus brave and bold And other chiefs of matchless might, Rome's virtuous poverty of old Severely season'd to the fight. Like trees ilarcellus' glory grows With an insensible advance ; The Julian star like Cynthia glows, Who leads the planetary dance. The Fates, O sire of human race, Intrust great Caesar to thy care ; Give him to hold thy second place And reign thy sole vicegerent here. And whether India he shall tame Or to his chains the Seres doom ; Or mighty Parthia dreads his name. And bows her haughty neck to Rome ; 22 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. While on our groves thy bolts are hurl'd, And thy loud car shakes heaven above, Ho shall with justice awe the world, To none inferior but Jove. Oheistophee Pitt.' ODE xm. TO LTDIA. Cwm hi, Lydda, TelepM. WHEN thou commends't the lovely eyes Of Telephus that for thee dies, His arms of wax, his neck or hair j Oh ! how my heart begins to beat. My spleen is swell'd with gall and heai, And all my hopes are turn'd into despair. Then both my mind and colour change. My jealous thoughts about me range In twenty shaped, my eyes begin The stealing drops, as from a still Like winter spring, apace to fill, ¥all down, and tell what fires I feel within. When his reproaches make thee cry, And thy fresh cheeks with paleness dye, I burn to think you will be friends ; When his rough hand thy bosom strips, Or his fierce kisses bum thy lips, I die to see how all such quarrel ends. ' Author of a translation of the ^neid (1740), of which Dr. John- son remarked, " Pitt pleases the critics, and Dryden the people j Pitt is quoted, and Dryden read," ODES. BOOK I. 23 All ! never tope a youth to hold, So haughty, and in love so bold. What can him tame in anger keep ? Whom all this fondness can't assuage, Who even kisses turn to rage. Which Venus does in her own nectar steep. Thrice happy they, whose gentle hearts. Till death itself their union parts, An undisturbed kindness holds, Without complaints or jealous fears. Without reproach, or spited tears. Which damp the kindest heats with sudden colds. Sib William Temple. ODE XIV. TO THE STATE. navis, referent m mare te novi. SHIP ! shall new waves again bear thee to sea ? Where alas! art thou driving ? keep steady to shore, Thy sides are left without an oar. And thy shaken mast groans to rude tempests a prey. Thy tackle all torn can no longer endure The assaults of the surge that now triumphs and reigns, None of thy sails entire remains. Nor a God to protect in another sad hour. Though thy outside bespeaks thee of noble descent. The forests chief pride, yet thy race and thy fame, What are they but an empty name ? Wise mariners trust not to gilding and paint. Beware then lest thou float, uncertain again, o 24 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. The sport of wild winds ; late my sorrowful care, And now my fondest wish, beware Of the changeable shoals where the Rhine meets the m^^in. Isaac Hawkins Beownb.' (From Dodsley's Collection.) ODE XV. THE PROPHECY OF NEREUS. Pastor quv/m traheret per freta navibus. FROM Sparta's hospitable shore. His prize when faithless Paris bore, While gnilt impatient crowds his sail, Prophetic Nereus' checks the gale. By force the- flying robber holds. And thus the wrath of HeaTen unfolds : In vain thy fleet transports the dame. Whom injured Greece shall soon reclaim. Prepared to break thy lawless tie, And Priam's ancient realm destroy. Behold the troops the foaming steed To labors doom'd and doom'd to bleed ! See ! victim to thy lewd desires. Thy country blaze with funeral fires ! See ! Pallas, eager to engage, Prepares her car and martial rage : She waves her segis, nods her plumes, And all the pomp of war assumes ! In vain, devoted to thy side, Shall Cytherea swell thy pride ; Author of " Design and Beauty," and other forgotten poems. ODES. BOOK I. 25 In vain thy graceful locks express The studied elegance of dress ; Thy languid harp, with amorous air, In vain shall charm the listening fair ; The palace screen thy conscious heart In vain against the Cretan dart, And Ajax nimble to pursue. What though, conceal'd from public view. The chamber guards thy nicer ear From all the horrid din of war ? At length, adulterer ! fall thou must, And trail those beauteous locks in dust ! See ! author of thy country's fate, Ulysses, practised in deceit. Behold the hoary Pylian sage Against her forfeit towers engage. Teucer and Sthenelus unite With various skill, in various fight. Tydides greater than his sire, To find thee, burns with martial fire. But as a grazing stag, who spies The distant wolf, with terror flies ; So shalt thou fly with panting breath. And faltering limbs, the approach of death. Where is thy boasted courage ? Where Thy promise plighted to the fair ? Though fierce Achilles' sullen hate Awhile protracts the City's fate, Heaven shall its righteous doom require. And Troy in Grecian fiames expire. Elizabeth Carter.' ' Poetess and scholar, b. 1717, d. 1806. 26 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. ODE XVI. PALINODIA. matre pukhra, fiUa pulclirwr. NTMPH ! of a beauteous mother bom, Whom still superior charms adorn, My slanderous verses, as you please, Destroy, by flames, or in the seas. Not Phoebus could his prophets fire. Nor Bacchus to extremes so dire ; Nor Corybantian cymbals wound The ear, with such a clattering sound, As baleful rage, which neither flame. Nor steel, nor tempest can reclaim ; And Jove, its madness to restrain. Would hurl his triple bolt in vain. 'Tis said when Japhet's son began To mould the clay, and fashion man. He stole from every beast a part, And fix'd the lion in his heart. From rage the tragic ills arose That crush'd Thyestes ; hence the woes Of cities, with the ground laid even. And ploughshares o'er their ruins driven. Then curb your anger ; heat of youth, (I, now, with shame, confess the truth,) Prompted alone my guilty muse. In rapid numbers to abuse Tour blameless name — forgiven by you I will a softer theme pursue. W. DUNCOMBB.' ' Author, in conjunction with his aon, the Bev. John Buncombe, of a translation of the Odes published in 1766. ODES. BOOK I. 27 ODE xvir. TO TYNDARIS. Vehx amaenum scepe Lucretihm. OFT Fanmis leaves Arcadia's plain, And to the Sabine Mil retreats ; He guards my flocks from rushing rain, From piercing winds and scorching heats. Where lurks the thyme, or shrubs appear, My wanton kids securely play ; My goats no poisonous serpent fear, Safe wandering through the woodland way. No hostile wolf the fold invades ; Usticns pendant rocks rebound My song ; and all the sylvan shades By Echo taught, return the sound. The Gods my verse propitious hear, My head from every danger shield : For you, o'erflows the beauteous year, And Plenty's horn hath heap'd my field. Responsive to the Teian string, Within the sun-defended vale. Here, softly warbling, you shall sing Each tender, tuneful amorous tale. No rival here shall burst the bands That wreathe my charmer's beauteous hair. Nor seize her weakly struggling hands ; But love and Horace guard the fair. SiE James Maeeiott. 28 TRANSX.ATIONS OF BORAGE. ODE XVIIt TO VARUS. Nidla/m, Vaife, sacra vite prms sevens' p/rborem. OF all the trees plant me the sacred vine In Tibiir's mellow fields, and let it climbe Cathyllns walls : for Jove doth cares propound To sober Jieads, which in full cnps are drown'd. Of want, or war, who cries out after wine ? Thee father Bacchus, thee fair Brycine, Who doth not sing ? But through intemp'rate use, Lest Liber's gifts yon turn into abuse. Think of the Oentaures brawle fought in their cans With Lapithes ; and to Sithonians Heavy Evous when their heated blood Makes little difference between what's good. And what is not. No gentle Bassaren I will not force thee : nor betray to view Thy vine-clad parts : suppress thy Thracian hollow, And dismall dynn, which blind self love doth follow, And glory puffing heads with empty worth. And a glasse bosome pouring secrets forth. Sib. Richaed Fanshawk.' ' Sir Eichard Fanshawe was among the earliest translators of any considerable portion of the Odes. His " selected Parts of Horace, prince of lyricks, and of all the Latin poets the fullest fraught with excellent morality,' now newly put into English," was published in 1652. The same volume contains other translations from various Latin poets, notably a charming poetical rendering of the Roses of Ausoniug, the concluding lines of which would seem to contain the suggestion of one of Herrick's most popular lyrics : " Nature, why mad'st thou fading flow'rs so gay ? Why shewd'st us gifts, to snatch them straight away ? A day's a rose's age. How neere do meet Poore bloome! thy cradle and thy winding sheet! ODES. BOOK I. 29 ODE XIX. TO GJjYO'EB.A. (jpara^hrase). Mater sceva Gujndiwwm. THE tyrant Qneen of soft desires, With the resistless aid of sprightly wine, And wanton ease, conspires To make my heart its peace resign, . And re-admit Love's long rejected fires. For beauteous Glycera I burn, The flames so long repell'd, with double force return ; Matchless her face appears, and shines more bright Than polished marble, when reflecting light ; Her very coyness warms. And, with a graceful sullenness she charms ; Each look darts forth a thousand rays, Whose lustre an unwary sight betrays ; My eyeballs swim, and I grow giddy while I gaze. She comes ! she comes ! she rushes in my vdns ; At once all Venus enters, and at large she reigns ; Cyprus no more with her abode is blest : I am her palace and her throne my breast. Of savage Scythian arms no more I write Or Parthian archers, who, in flying, fight, And make rough war their sport. Such idle themes no more can move. He whom the rising sun saw newly bom, He sees a wither'd corps at his return. Yet well with them'; who though they quickly dye, Survive themselves in their posterity ; Gather your roses, virgins, whilst theyr new : For, being past, no spring returns to you." 30 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Nor anything but wliat's of high import ; And what of high import, but love ? Vervain and gums and the green turf prepare ; With wine of two years old your cups be fill'd : After our sacrifice and prayer, The goddess may incline her heart to yield. OONGEEVE. ODE XX. TO M^CENAS, Vile potabis modicis Sabimim. IN sober cups, Msecenas dear. Partaker of my humble cheer Thin Sabine draughts you'll taste : Which I, in modest Grecian jar, Stored on that happy day, when far In playful echoes cast, The crowded theatre's acclaim So hail'd you, that old Tibur's stream From your paternal shore, And Vatican's green hill around Catching the high triumphant sound Threw back the joyous roar. At home bright Oascuban, your lip And Cales' luscious growth, shall sip, Campania's costly wines : Alas ! the slope of Formias's hills For me no generous juice distils. Nor rich Falernian wines. Wbangham. s ODES. BOOK I. 31 ODE XXL OF DIANA AND APOLLO. Dianam, tenerce dioite virgines, ING, tender maids, Diana's praise. Ye boys, to youthful Phoebus raise The hymn ; Latona both approve — Latona, dear to father Jove. Te, Dian, fond of stream and bower. And woods on Algidus which tower O'er Erymanthus darkening spread, Or wave on Cragus' verdant head ; Ye boys, resound with rival strain Tempe and Delos, of the main Green gem, whence quiver'd Phoebus sprung. With Hermes' lyre his shoulder hung. He, far from Rome, from Caesar far Gaunt Pamine, Pestilence and War (Moved by your prayers) shall turn, and pour On Persia's or on Britain's shore. Weangham. ODE XXII. TO ARISTIUS FUSC'CrS (paraphrase). Integer vitcB scelerisque purm. VIRTUE, dear friend, needs no defence. The surest guard is innocence. None knew, till guilt created fear, What darts or poison'd arrows were. Integrity undaunted goes, Through Libyan sands or Scythian snows, 32 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Or where Hydaspes wealthy side Pays tribute to the Persian pride. For as (by amorous thoughts betray'd) Careless in Sabine woods I stray'd, A grisly foaming wolf, unfed, Met me unarm'd, yet trembling fled. No' beast of more portentous size, In the Hercinian Forest lies ; None fiercer, in Numidia bred, With Carthage were in triumph led. Set me in the remotest place. That Neptune's frozen arms embrace, Where angry Jove did never spare One breath of kind and temp'rate air. Set me, where on some pathless plain The swarthy Africans complain, To see' the ohar'ot of the sun So near the scorching country run ; The burning zone, the frozen Isles, Shall hear jne sing of Celia's smiles. All cold but in her breast, I will despise, And dare all heat but that of Celia's eyes.^ Roscommon. ' Compare Sir Ed. Sherburne's Epigram, " Ice and Fire," " Naked Love did to thine eye, Chloris once, to warm him, fly ; But its subtle flame and light Scorch'd his wings, and spoil'd his sight. Forc'd from thence he went to rest In the soft couch of thy breast : But there met a frost so great As his torch extinguish'd straight. When poor Cupid thus (constrain'd His cold bed to leave) complain'd, ' Alas ! what lodging's here for me. If all ice and fire she be.' " ODES. BOOK I. 33 THE SAME. THE man, my friend, whose conscious heart With virtue's sacred ardour glows. Nor taints with death th' envenom'd dart, Nor needs the guard of Moorish bows. O'er icy Caucasus he treads, O'er torrid Afric's faithless sands ; Or where the fam'd Hydaspes spreads His liquid wealth, through barbarous lands. For while in Sabine forests charm'd By Lalage, too far I stray'd. Me singing, careless and unarm'd, A furious wolf approach'd and fled. No beast more dreadful ever stain'd Apulia's spacious wilds with gore ; No beast more fierce Numidia's land, The lion's thirsty parent, bore. Place me where no soft summer gale Among the quivering branches sighs, Where clouds, condens'd, for ever veil, With horrid gloom, the frowning skies ; Place me beneath the burning zone, A clime denied to human race ; My flame for Lalage I'll own ; Her voice, her smiles, my song shall grace. De. Johnson. 34 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. ODE XXIII. TO CHLOE. Vitas hmrmleo me similis, Ohloe. AS flies the fawn, who strives to find On pathless hills,i the trembling hind, Ton, gentle Chloe, fly from me. Timid fawn ! whose idle fear Tells her still of dangers near, In every breeze, in every tree. Her courage fails, her strength decliaes, If Zephyr stir the rustling vines, Or lizards green the brambles shake ; But, ripe for pleasure, cease to blush ; No tiger I, your limbs to crush ; For man your mother's arms forsake. Lord Glenbeevib.' ODE XXV. TO LTDIA. Pwroius junotas quativmt fenestras. HE amorous youths with heated breast T Thy windows rarely now molest ; Their songs thy rest disturb no more, And quiet hangs thy silent door. ' " Like as a hind — Yet flies away, of her own feet afTear'd ; And every leaf that shaketh with the least Murmur of wind, her terror hath encreas'd." Spenseb. ' Sylvester Douglas, created Baron Glenbervie 1800, was Gover- nor of the Cape of Good Hope in that year. ODES. BOOK I. 35 Now less and less each hour thy ear These plaintive strains of love shall hear, " Lydia ! while slumbers close thine eye, " We freeze beneath the midnight sky! " But thou, in turn when time's decay Bids all thy beauties fade away, In the dark streets the wanton crew With trembling voice shalt shameless woo. While rage for unappeas'd desires, And slighted love thy bosom fires, The amorous train for younger brows Shall twine the myrtle's verdant boughs, And all thy wither'd garlands lave With scorn in Hebra's wintry wave, H. J. Pye.' ODE XXVI. TO ^LIUS LAMIA. Musis a/mious tristiiia/m et metus, WHILE in the Muse's friendship blest, Nor fears nor g^ief disturb my breast : Bear them, ye vagrant winds, away, And drown them in the Cretan sea. Careless am I, or who shall reign The tyrant of the frozen plain. Or with what anxious fear opprest Heaves Tiridates' panting breast. Sweet Muse, who lov'st the virgin spring, "Hither thy sunny flow'rets bring, I And let thy richest chaplet shed Its fragrance round my Lamia's head ; 36 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. For nought avails the poet's praise, Unless the Muse inspire his lays. Now string the tuneful lyre again, Let all thy sisters raise the strain. And consecrate to deathless fame My lov'd, my Lamia's honor'd name. De. Pkancis. ODE XXVII. TO HIS COMPANIONS. Natis in usvrni loBtitice scyphis. WITH goblets made for mirth, to fight, 'Tis barbarous ! leave that Thracian rite, Nor mix the bashful blushing God Of wine with quarrels and with blood, A cand-stick and quart pot, how far. They differ from the cymitar ! Your wicked noise, companions, cease ! And on your elbows lean in peace. Would you have me to share th' austere Falernian liquor : Let me hear, Megilla's brother, by what eyes. Of what blest wound and shaft he dies. No ! then will I not drink : whatever Venus tames thee, she toasts thy liver With fires thou hast no cause to cover, < Still sinning an ungenerous lover. Come ! thou may'st lay it whatso'ere It is, securely in my ear. Ah, wretch ! in what a whirlpool ta'en ! Boy worthy of a better flame ! ODES. BOOK I. 31 What witck witli her Thessalian rod Can loose thee from those charmes ? What God ? Scarce Pegasus himself can thee From this three-shap'd Ohimsera free. SiE R. Tanshawe. ODE XXIX. TO ICOIUS. led, heatis ivmio Arabum invides. CCIUS, th' Arabian's wealth thou dost envy, . And to the wars dost now thyself apply. b.ou for th' unconqner'd Medes, and Sabeees king, ost wreath strong chaines in triumph them to bring, rhat wife of barbarous husband, being slaine, a serve thy lust wilt thou force to retaine ? niiat courtly page, with haire perfum'd shall stand waite on thee, with quaffing cup in's hand ? kilfall enough his father's bow to bend, r Parthian arrowes with true aime to send. T^ho'le not believe that rivers readily, nd Tyber's streams may back to mountains flee, Then for books bought, which promis'd better far hou get'st a coat of mail and goest to war. John Smith.' ODE XXX. TO VENUS. Verms, regina Gnidi Pa/pliique. QUBEN" of beauty, queen of smiles. Leave ! oh ! leave thy favourite isles ; A temple rises to thy fame, ' " The Lyrick Poet," Odes and Satyres translated out of Horai 1 X o 38 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Where Glycera invokes thy name, And bids the fragrant incense flame. "With thee bring thy love-warm son, The Graces bring with flowing zone, The Nymphs and jocund Mercury, And sprightly Youth, who, without thee, Is nought but savage Liberty. Dk. Feancis. ODE XXXI. TO APOLLO. Quid dedicatum poscit ApolUnem. WHILE humbly ofiering at thy shrine, I pour the consecrated wine ; Of thee, bright God of verse and day ! What shall thy suppliant poet pray ? I ask not all the golden stores. That wave on rich Sardinia's shores ; Nov yet the flocks, a countless train ! That tread Calabria's verdant plain. I ask no heap of glitt'ring coin. Nor diamonds brought from India's mine ; Nor yet the plenty Heav'n bestows, Where softly winding Lyris flows : Let the toU'd merchant yearly stray Through every land and every sea ; And, led by fate in search of gain, Explore the earth and tempt the main. ODES. BOOK I. 39 • Grant me this wish — a country farm, Where all is fair, and clean, and warm ; The neighb'ring woods shall yield me fire, My garden food, my flocks attire. And Phcebna ! to confirm me bless'd, Still grant me health those joys to taste ! And still with health, let there be join'd An honest heart, and cheerful mind. Then to complete thy bard's desire, Give me to touch thy sacred lyre ! Still let the Muse inspire my lay. And help to sooth all care away ! Untroubled thus, serenely clear, The evening of my life shall wear ; Till death, unfear'd, unheeded come. And lay me peaceful in the tomb. Samuel Botse.' ODE XXXII. TO HIS LYRE. Posoim/wr : — si quid vac/id sub vmbrd, MELODIOUS Lyre ! if e'er reclined at ease Thy warbling notes, or my soft verse could please,'^ In this retreat, let not their musick cease, But let a just applause reward thy song. 1 Author of the " Deity," of which Fielding remarks : " A poem long since buried in oblivion, a, proof that good hooka no more than good men do always survive the bad." — " Tom Jones," book vii. ?hap. 1. Boyse, who lived a degraded and abject life, died 1749. 40 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. • First from fair Lesbos' ever famons shore, Thro' wars harsh toils, and where loud billows roar, The solace of his cares ! Alcasus bore Thy sweetly sounding shell along. To thee he sung — warm'd by the tnnefal Nine — The praise of Venus, the free joys of wine, And gay Lycea's sparkling eyes that shine Black, as the tresses o'er her neck of snow. Thou, grace of Phcebus ! Thou delight of Jove ! Who, o'er thy strings whene'er my fingers move. Dost by thy soft, thy melting sweetness prove The kind dispeller of intruding woe. Gentleman's Magazine, July, 1731. ODE XXXIII. TO ALBIUS TIBULLTJS. Albi, ne doleas plus nimio memor. COME dry thine eyes, and cease to mourn, Think not too much on Glycera's scorn : Let no complaining songs proclaim, That she regardless of her vows Her wanton smiles bestows Upon a later and a meaner flame. Lycoris fair for Cyrus burns. She loves, but meets no kind returns : 111 natur'd Pholoe Cyrus charms. But sooner shall the lambs agree With cruel wolves than she Shall take so base a wanton in her arms. ODES. BOOK I. 41 Thus Venus sports, the rich, the base, Unlike in fortune and in face, To disagreeing love provokes : When cruelly jocose. She ties the fatal noose. And binds unequals to the brazen yokes. This is the fate that all must prove, The sure unhappiness of love ; Whilst fairer virgins did adore And courted me, I Myrtaf woo'd As rough as Adria's flood. That bends the creeks of the Calabrian shore. Thomas Cebech.^ ODE XXXIV. TO HIMSELF. Parous Deonrni cultor et infrequens. I THAT have seldom worshipt Heaven, As to a mad sect too much given, My former ways am forced to balk, And after the old light to walk. For cloud- dividing-lightning Jove, Through a clear firmament late drove His thund'ring horses, and swift wheels : With which, supporting Atlas reels : With which Earth, seas, the Stygian Lake, And Hell, with all her Furies, quake. It shook me too. God pulls the proud From his high seat, and from their cloud ' Creech's translation of Horace, long regarded as a standard work, was published in 1684. 42 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Draws the obscure : levels the hills, And with their earth the valleys fills. 'Tis all he does, he does it all : Tet this, blind mortals Fortune call. SiE R. Fanshawe. ODE XXXV. TO FORTUNE. Diva, gratwm quoe regis Antiwm. FAIR Antium's goddess ! whose sweet smile or frown Can raise weak mortals from the depths of woe. Or bring the lofty pride of triumph down. And bid the bitter tear of funeral grief to flow ! Thee the poor farmer courts with anxious prayer :' Thee, sovereign of the seas ! does he implore, ' Who in Bithynian bark will boldly steer, Where wild Carpathia's waves in vex'd commotion roar. The Dacian fierce, rude Scythia's wandering bands. And towns and nations, warlike Italy, Mother of kings who reign in barbarous lands. And purpled tyrants fear and trembling kneel to thee. Let not thy wrath with scornful foot o'erthrow The column firm on which we rest our fate ; Ifor let wild discord work anew our woe Or rouse to arms again, and overturn the state. ODES. BOOK I. 43 Before thee stalks stern Fate, who joys to bear In iron hand the wedge — the spikes so dire ; Nor wants the hook, to torture and to tear ; Nor molten lead that rolls its streams of liqnid fire. Thee, Hope, and white-rob'd Faith, so seldom found. Attend to cheer ; nor from thy presence fly, When those prond halls, for splendor long renown'd, Thou learest in angry haste and garb of poverty. But that false crew, which flatters to betray — The perjur'd partner of Love's wanton bower — Will drain the lowest dregs ; then shrink away Nor bear the equal yoke in Friendship's trying hour. O Goddess ! let great Ceesar be thy care. Whose daring sail seeks Britain's distant coast. Return his new-rais'd bands again to bear Our arms beyond the East — a gallant conquering host. But ah ! what crimes are ours ! what deeds of shame ! Dishonest scars and blood by brothers spilt. • Our iron age, well worthy of that name. What has it left undar'd? when made a pause in guilt ? Whose altar spared, by piety restrain'd ? But, oh dread Goddess ! let thy powerful hand Our blunted swords, by kindred blood distain'd. New whet against our foes of Scythia's barbarous land, T. BOUKNE. 44 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. ODE XXXVI. TO PLOTIUS NUMIDA. Tli twre etfidibus jwoat. Argwment. Our Lyric joy' d, exidts a/main For Nvmida's return from Spain. WITH frankincense and lyric lay And bullocks justly slaughter'd, let's allay Great Numid's tutelary Gods ; Who, safe arriv'd from Spain's remot'st abodes, Gave's dear friends many a kiss-salnte. But to sweet Lamia most did distribute ; Rememb'ring how both served all Their youthfuU days under one Generall. And both their gowns together quit. This beauteous day sign with a chalky smit : Let vast wine runlets freely spout, And Salian like incessant skip about. No more let soaking Dam'lis bonze, Than Bassus in a Thracian carouse. Let roses, parsley, evergreen. And fading lilies much at feasts be seen. All shall their eyes with lust infested On Dam'lis cast, nor Dam'lis be wrested From her new paramour, who combine Closer than any amorous ivy's twine. Babton Holydat. ODES. BOOK I. 45 ODE XXXVIII. TO HIS SERVANT. Persicos odi, puer, adpairatus. BOY ! I detest all Persi^tn fopperies ; Fillet-boTind garlands are to me disgusting ; Task not thyself with any search, I charge thee, Where latest roses linger. Bring me alone (for thon wilt find that readily) Plain myrtle. Myrtle neither will disparage Thee occupied to serve me, or me drinking Beneath my vine's cool shelter. COWPEE. THE SAME. NAT, nay, my boy — 'tis not for me. This studions pomp of Eastern luxury ; Give me no various garlands — fine With linden twine. Nor seek, where latest lingering blows The solitary rose. Earnest I beg — add not — with toilsome pain. One far-sought blossom to the myrtle plain, Por sure, the fragrant myrtle bough Looks seemliest on thy brow ; Nor me mis-seems, while, underneath the vine, Close interweaved, I quaff the rosy wine. Haetley Colbeidge. 46 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. BOOK 11. ODE II. TO ORISPUS SALLUSTIUS. Nullus argento color est avaris. YES, you deservedly despise The wealth, that use ne'er taught to shine, That rusting in the coffer lies Like ore yet buried in the mine ; For gold, my friend ! no lustre knows. But what a wise well-temper'd use bestows. Thee, Proculeius ! distant days Will bless, and make thy virtues known ; Conspiring tongues will sound thy praise, A father's love to brethren shewn, Transcendent worth, like thine, will fly On Fame's unflagging pinions thro' the sky. A monarch far more potent he, Who subject keeps his wayward soul. Who lives from sordid avarice free, And dares each fiercer lust controul, Than he whose universal sway Wide Earth's extremes, her East and West, obey. That sensual self-indulgent wretch. Whose skin the panting dropsy strains, Still must the watery languor stretch, And only Temperance ease his veins : ODES. BOOK IT. 47 So growing wealth prompts new desire, And Fortune's breeze but fans the wasting fire. That Persian hails the public voice Deck'd with the crown that Cyrus wore : But virtue sanctions not the choice ; She calls Phraates bless'd no more : Can tyrant hands, defil'd with sin, The fair, the spotless meed of virtue win ? Virtue, their rule perverse, shall own Which bliss to wealth and grandeur leaves. Prom virtue he, and he alone, The wreath and diadem receives, Who dares the glittering heap pass by. With steadfast mien and unreverted eye. Gilbert Wakefield. ODE III. TO DELLIUS. ^quam memento rebus in ardv/is. WHEN dangers press, a mind sustain Unshaken by the storms of Pate ; And when delight succeeds to pain With no glad insolence elate : Por death will end the various toys Of hopes, and fears, and cares, and joys. Mortal alike, if sadly grave Ton pass life's melancholy day ; Or in some green, retired cave. Wearing the idle hours away, Give to the Muses all your soul. And pledge them in the flowing bowl; 48 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Where the broad pine, and poplar white, To join their hospitable shade, With intertwisted boughs delight ; And, o'er its pebbly bed convey'd, Labours the winding stream to run Trembling and glittering to the sun. Thy generous wine, and rich perfume, And fragrant roses hither bring, That with the early zephyrs bloom, And wither with, declining spring. While joy and youth not yet have fled. And Pate still holds the uncertain thread. You soon must leave your verdant bowers, And groves, yourself had taught to grow, Tour soft retreats from sultry hours, Where Tiber's gentle waters Q.ovr, Soon leave ; and all you call your own Be squander'd by an heir unknown. Whether of wealth and lineage proud, A high patiician name yon bear. Or pass ignoble in the crowd, TJnshelter'd from the midnight air, 'Tis all alike ; no age or state Is spared by unrelenting Fate. To the same port pur barks are bound ; One final doom is fix'd for all ; The universal wheel goes round. And, soon or late, each lot must fall. When all together shall be sent To one eternal banishment. John Herman Meeitale.^ ' Poet and translator. Published "Orlando in Eoncesvalles," 1814, and assisted Bland in his " Collections from the Greek An- thology," besides publishing otlier works. ODES. BOOK II. 49 ODE IV. TO XANTHIAS PHOCEUS. Ne sit cmeilloB iibi wmor pudori. BLUSH not, my friend, to own the love Which thy fair captive's eyes do move : Achilles once, the fierce, the brave, Stoop'd to the beauties of a slave ; Tecmessa's charms could overpower Ajax her lord and conqueror ; Great Agamemnon when success Did all his arms with conquest bless, When Hector's fall had gain'd him more Than ten long rolling years before. By a bright captive virgin's eyes Ev'n in the midst of triumph dies. You know not to what mighty line The lovely maid may make you join ; See but the charm her sorrow wears. No common cause could draw such tears : Those streams, sure, that adorn her so, For loss of royal kindred flow : Oh ! think not so divine a thing Could from the bed of Commons spring ; Whose faith could so unmov'd remain. And so averse to sordid gain. Was never born of any race That might the noblest love disgrace. Her blooming face, her snowy arms, Her well-shap'd legs, and all her charms Of her body and her face I, poor I, may safely praise. E 50 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Suspect not love, the youthful rage, From Horace's declimng age ; But think remov'd by forty years, All his flames and all thy fears. KiCHAKD Ddke.' ODE V, NondMm subactaferre jiigmn valet. THY heifer, friend, is hardly broke. Her neck uneasy to the yoke ; She cannot draw the plough, nor bear The weight of the obliging steer : In flow'ry meads is her delight, Those claim her taste, and please her sight : Or else she flies the burning beams. To quench her thirst in cooler streams ; Or with the calves through pastures plays, And wantons all her easy days : Forbear ! design no hasty rape On such a green, untimely grape : Soon ruddy Autumn will produce Plump clusters, ripe, and fit for use : She, that now flies, shall then pursue ; She, that's now courted, doat on you : For age whirls on and every year. It takes from thee, it adds to her : Soon, Lalage, shall soon proclaim Her love, nor Wush to own her flame. Lov'd more, for she more kindly warms Than Pholoe coy, or Chloris' charms : ' " His poems are not below mediocrity ; nor have I found in them much to be praised." — De. Johnsoh. ODES. BOOK II, 51 So pure Her breast, so fair a white, As in a clear and smiling night. In quiet floods, the silver moon, On Cretan Gyges never shone ; Who, plac'd among the maids, defies A skilful stranger's prying eyes : So smooth his doubtful looks appear, So loose to womankind, his hair. Ceeech. ODE VI. TO SEPTIMIUS. Septimi, Gades aditwre meown, et. COMB friend ! with me to Gades' remotest shores, Where fierce Cantabrians spurn the Roman chain ; To climes barbaric, where unceasing roars Thro' boiling sands the Mauritanian main. May I; in Tybur, rais'd by Argive bands, Close the calm scene of life's eventful stage : There find these limbs, long toss'd on seas and lands, A bed of comfort for reposing age ! Sljould Fate, unkind, deny that blissful seat, Thy wave, Galesus ! and thou, rural reign Of bold Phalantns ! rest my pilgrim feet. Where snow-white fleeces brighten all the plain. Te streams delicious, and enchanting fields! Oh ! may that spot of all the globe be mine ! Hymettus' self not purer honey yields ; Venafrian olives dare but rival thine. 52 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. There from soft Zephyr of encroaching Springs, Stem Winter's transient rigours melt away ; There grapes, mount Anion from his full lap flings, Like thine, Falern ! matures a warmer ray. There every grace that Nature's hand can lend. Invite our steps, and all the clime endear : There pay the last sad ofSce to thy friend. And quench his glowing ashes with a tear. Gilbert WAKEriKLD. ODE VIII. TO BARINE. Zflla sijwris tibi pejerati. DID any punishment attend Thy former perjuries, I should believe, a second time. Thy charming flatteries : Did but one wrinkle mark thy face. Or hadst thou lost one single grace. No sooner hast thou, with false vows, Provok'd the powers above ; But thou art fairer than before, And we are more in love. Thus Heaven and Earth seem to declare They pardon falsehood in the fair. Sure 'tis no crime vainly to swear By every power on high, And call our bury'd mother's ghost, A witness to the lie : Heaven at such perjury connives. And Venus, with a smile, forgives. ODES. BOOK II. 53 The nymphs and cruel Cupid too, Sharp'ning his pointed dart On an old hone, besmear'd with blood. Forbear thy perjur'd heart. Fresh youth grows up to wear thy chains, And the old slave no freedom gains. Thee, mothers, for their eldest sons. Thee, wretched misers fear. Lest thy prevailing beauty should Seduce the hopeful heir ; New marry'd virgins fear thy charms Should keep their bridegrooms from their arms. Sib Ohablbs Sbdlby. ODE IX. TO VALGIUS. Non semper imibres nubibus Mspidos. CLOUDS do not always veil the skies, Nor showers immerse the verdant plain ; Nor do the billows always rise, Or storms afflict the troubled main. Nor, Valgius, on the Armenian shores. Do the chain'd waters always freeze ; Not always furious Boreas roars, Or bends with violent force the trees. But you are ever drowned in tears, For Mystes dead, you ever mourn ; No setting Sol can ease your cares. But finds you sad at his return. 54 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. The wise experieno'd Grecian sage Moum'd not Antiloelins so long : Nor did King Priam's hoary age So much lament his slanghter'd son. Leave off, at length, these woman's sighs, Augustus' number'd trophies sing ; Repeat that prince's victories, To whom all nations tribute bring. Niphates rolls an humbler wave ; At length th' undaunted Scythian yields. Content to live the Eoman's slave. And scarce forsakes his native fields. De. Johnson. ODE X. TO LICINIUS. Bectius vives, Licmi, neque aMvm. Praise of meane and constant estate. OF thy lyfe, Thomas, this compasse well mark. Not aye with full sayles the hye seas to beat : Ne by coward dred, in shonning stormes dark. On shalow shores thy keel in perill freat. Who so gladly halseth the golden meane, Voyde of dangers advisdly hath his home Not with lothsom muck, as a den uncleane : Nor palacelyke, wherat disdayn may glome. The lofty pyne the great winde often rives : With violenter swey falle turrets stepe : Lightninges assault the hye mountains and clives. A hart well stayd, in overthwartes depe, ODES, BOOK II. 55 Hopeth amendes : in swete, doth feare the sowre. God, that seudeth, withdraweth winter sharp. Now ill, not aye thns : once Phebus to lowre With bow nnbent shall cesse, and frame to harp His voyoe. In straite estate appere thou stout: And so wisely, when lucky gale of winde All thy puft sailes shall fil, loke well about : Take in a ryft : hast is wast, profe doth finde. Henky Howaed, Eael op Sueeey.* THE SAME. The mecme estate is to be a/icom/pted the best. WHO craftly castes to stere his boate and safely skoures the flattering flood : He cutteth not the greatest waves for why, that way were nothing good. Ne fleteth on the crocked shore lest harme him happe awayting lest. But wines away between them both, as who would say, the meane is best. Who waiteth on the golden meane, he put in point of sickernes : Hides not his head in sluttishe coates, ne shroudes himself in filthines. Ne sittes aloft in hye estate, where hatefull hartes envie his chance : But wisely walkes betwixt them twaine, ne proudly doth himself avance. • This and the two following versions of the same Ode by " Un- certain Authors" occur in Tottel's " Miscellany" (1557). They are all here inserted as being the earliest specimens of Enghsh verse translations from Horace that I have been able to discover. 56 TRANSLATIONS QF HORACE. Th.e highest tree in all the woode is rifest rent with blnstring windes : The heigher hall thfe greater fall. such chance have proud and lofty mindes. When Jupiter from hie doth threat with mortall mace and dint of thunder, The highest hilles ben batrid eft when they stand still that stoden under. The man whose head with wit is fraught in welth will feare a worser tide, When fortune failes dispairetb nought but constantly doth stil abide. For he that sendeth grisely stormes with whisking windes and bitter blastes And fowlth with hail the winter's face and frotes the soile with hory frostes, Even he adawth the force of colde, the spring in sendes with somer bote. The same full oft to stormy hartes is cause of bale : of joye the roote. Not always il though so be now when cloudes ben driven then rides the racke. Phebus the fresh ne shoteth still sometime he harpes his Muse to wake. Stand stif therfore ! pluck up thy hart ! lose not thy port though fortune faile : Againe when winde doth serve at will, take hede to hye to hoyse thy saile. From TotteVs Miscellany, " Songs and Sonettes of Uncertain Authors." ODES. BOOK IT. 57 THE SAME. Of the golden meane. THE wisest way, thy bote, in ware and winde to gtiie, Is neither still the trade of middle streame to trie ; Ne (warely shnnnyng wrecke by wether) aye to nie. To presse upon the perillous shore. Both clenely flees he filthe : ne wonnes a wretched wight, In carlish coate : and carefnll court aie thrall to spite, With port of proud astate he leves : who doth delight, Of golden meane to hold the lore. Stormes rifest rende the sturdy stout pine apple tre. Of lofty rising towers the fals the feller be. Most sers doth lightenyng light, where furthest we do see The hilles the valey to forsake. Well fnrnisht brest to bide eche chanses changing chear. In woe hath chearfuU hope, in weal hath warefuU fear, One self Joye winter makes with lothfull lokes appear. That can by course the same aslake. What if into mishap the case now casten be ? It forceth not such forme of luck to last to thee. Not alway bent is Phebus bow : his harpe and he Ceast silver sound sometime doth raise. In hardest hap use helpe of hardy hopef uU hart. Seme bold to bear the brunt of fortune overthwart. Eke wisely when forewinde to full breathes on thy part, Swage swellyng saile, and doubt decayes. From Tottel's Miscellany, 2nd Edition : " Songs cmd Sonettes by wncertadn Avihors." 58 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. THE SAME. YOTJ better sure shall live, not evermore Trying high seas ; nor, while sea's rage you flee, Pressing too much upon ill-harbour'd shore. The golden meane who loves, lives safely free From filth of foreworne house, and quiet lives, Releast from court, where envie needes must be. The winde most oft the highest pine tree greeves ; The stately towers come downe with greater fall ; The highest hills the bolt of thunder cleeves ; Evill happes do fill with hope, good happes appal. With feare of change, the courage well preparde : Fowle winters as they come, away they shall. Though present times and past with ills be snar'd. They shall not last; with citherne, silent Muse Apollo wakes, and bowe hath sometime sparde. In hard estate, with stout shew valour use ! The same man still, in whom wisedom prevailes In too full winde, draw in thy swelling sailes. SiE Philip Sidney. THE SAME. RECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teach. So shalt thou live beyond the reach Of adverse fortune's power ; Not always tempt the distant deep. Nor always timorously creep Along the treacherous shore. He that holds fast the golden mean. And lives contentedly between The little and the great, ODES. BOOK II. 59 Feels not the wants that pinch the poor, Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door, Imbittering all his state. The tallest pines feel most the power Of wintry blasts ; the loftiest tower Comes heaviest to the ground ; The bolts that spare the mountain's side. His cloud-capt eminence divide, And spread the ruin round. The well-inform'd philosopher Rejoices, with a wholesome fear. And hopes in spite of pain ; If Winter bellow from the North, Soon the sweet Spring comes dancing forth. And nature laughs again. What if thine Heaven be overcast ? The dark appearance will not last ; Expect a brighter sky ! The God that strings the silver bow Awakes sometimes the Muses too, And lays his arrows by. If hindrances obstruct thy way. Thy magnanimity display. And let thy strength be seen ; But, O ! if Fortune fill thy sail, With more than a propitious gale, Take half thy canvass in. Cowpee.' ' A Eeflectiou on the foregoing Ode : — " And is this all ? Can Season do no more Than bid me shun the deep and dread the shore ? Sweet moralist ! Afloat on life's rough sea The Christian has an art uriknown to thee. He holds no parley with unmanly fears ; Where duty bids, he confidently steers, Fa«es a thousand dangers at her call. And trusting in his God, surmounts them all." COWPEB. 60 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. ODE XII. TO M^CBNAS. NoUs longafercB hella NmnamticB: DIRE Hannibal, the Roman dread, Numantian wars, wiich. raged so long. And seas with Punic slaughter red, Suit not the softer lyric song ; Nor savage Centaurs, mad with wine ; Nor Earth's enormous rebel brood, Who shook with fear the Powers divine, Till by Alcides' arms subdued. Better, Mseoenas, thou in prose Shalt CsBsar's glorious battles tell ; With what bold heat the victor glows, What captive kings his triumphs swell. Thy mistress, all my Muse employs ; Licinia's voice, her sprightly turns, The fire that sparkles in her eyes, " And in her faithful bosom burns. When she adores Diana's day. And all the beauteous choirs advance, With sweetest airs, divinely gay. She shines, distinguish'd in the dance ! Not all Arabia's spicy fields Can with Licinia's breath compare ; Nor India's self a treasure yields. To purchase one bright flowing hair : ODES. BOOK II. 61 When she with bending neck complies To meet the lover's eager kiss, With gentle cruelty denies, Or snatches first the fragrant bliss. SiE Jeffrey Gilbert.' ODE XIII. TO A TREE. Ille et nefasto teposuit die. SHAME of thy mother soyle ! ill nurtur'd tree ! Sett, to the mischief of posteritie ! That hand (whate're it were) that was thy nurse. Was sacrilegious, sure, or something worse. Black, as the day was dismall, in whose sight Thy rising top first stain'd the bashfull light. That man — I thinke — wrested the feeble life From his old father ; that man's barbarous knife Conspir'd with darkness 'gainst the stranger's throate ; (Whereof the blushing walles tooke bloody note). Huge high-floune poysons, ev'n of Colchis breed, And whatsoe're wild sinnes black thoughts doe feed, His hands have paddled in ; his hands, that found Thy traiterous root a dwelling in my ground. Perfidious totterer ! longing for the staines Of thy kind master's well-deserving braines. Man's daintiest care and caution cannot spy The subtile point of his coy destiny. Which way it threats. With feare the merchant's mind Is plough'd as deepe, as is the sea with wind, Rows'd in an angry tempest. Oh ! the sea ! Oh 1 that's his feare ; there flotes his destiny : ' Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer, 1725-26. 62 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. While from another, unseene, corner blowes The storme of fate, to which his life he owes. By Parthian's bow the soldier lookes to die, (Whose hands are fighting, while their feet doe flie.) The Parthian starts at Rome's imperiall name, Fledg'd with her eagle's wing ; the very shame Of his captivity rings in his eares. Thus, O, thus fondly doe we pitch our feares Parre distant from our fates, our fates that mocke Our giddy feares with an unlook't for shocke. A little more, and I had surely seene Thy greisly majesty, Hell's blackest Queene ; And ^acus on his tribunall too. Sifting the soules of guilt ; and you, oh ! you, Ton ever blushing meads, where doe the blest Farre from darke horrors home appeale to rest. There amorous Sappho plaines upon her lute. Her love's cross fortune, that the sad dispute Eunnes murmuring on the strings. Alcssus there, In high built numbers wakes his golden lyre, To tell the world, how hard the matter went. How hard by sea, by warre, by banishment. There these brave soules deale to each wond'ring eare Such words, soe precious, as they may not weare Without religious silence ; above all Warre's rattling tumults or some tyrant's fall. The thronging clotted multitude doth feast : What wonder ? when the hundred-headed beast Hangs his black lugges, stroakt with those heavenly lines ; The Puries curl'd snakes meet in gentle twines, And stretch their cold limbes in a pleasing fire. Prometheus selfe, and Pelops sterved sire Are cheated of their paines ; Orion thinkes Of lions now no more, or spotted lynx. RiCHAED Oeashaw. ODES. BOOK II. 63 ODE XIV. TO POSTHUMUS. Eheufugaces, Posiv/me, Postvmie. SWIFT fly the rolling years, my friend ! Nor can your anxious prayers extend The fleeting joys of youth ; The trembling hand, the wrinkled cheek, Too plainly life's decay bespeak, With sad but silent truth. What though your daily offerings rise, In fragrant clouds of sacrifice. To Jove's immortal seat; Ton cannot fly death's cold embrace. Where peasants — chiefs of kingly race — An equal welcome meet. In vain, from battle fields afar, You gently dream of raging war. Secure in peace and wealth ; In vain you shun the stormy wave, The scorching breeze, that others brave. Profuse of vigorous health. Though zealous friends your portals throng, They cannot still your life prolong By one short lingering hour. Whate'er our plans, whate'er our state, We mortals own one common fate, One stem unbending power. When your parch'd lips shall faintly press, On your fond wife, their last caress, And farewell murmurs breathe, 64 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Tour wandering eyes shall feebly rove O'er each loved wood, and well train'd grove, To seek a funeral wreath. The purple vineyard's luscious stores. Secured by trebly bolted doors, Excite, in vain, your care ; Soon shall the rich and sparkling hoard Flow largely o'er the festive board Of your unsparing heir. Ralph Beenal.^ ODE XV. Joffli pauoa aratro jugera regim. GLEAMING on Baiee's golden shore. Ton marble domes their sunny wings expand : And glittering villas crown the yellow strand : But ah ! its wealthy harvests wave no more. The faithful ploughshare quits the encumber'd land. Mark yon broad lakes their glittering bosoms spread, Wide, as the Lucrine wave, their waters sheen ; And lo ! the solitary plane is seen, Spreading its broad and fruitless boughs of green. Where erst above the maple's social head. Laden with grapes the tendrils wont to twine ; And thou thy purple clusters shed, Oh ! Italy's beloved vine ! How rich the balm Favonius breathes, From banks, with rose and spicy myrtle set ! How fair his fragrant blossoms wreathes Of the dark-eyed violet. But ah ! the sons of joy forget, ' Tlie eminent virtuoso, died 1852. ODES. BOOK II. 65 (Who the fierce splendours of the summer sky, In the green depth of laurel-groves defy ;) How autumn's ripening hand was wont to pour The orchard frnits from every golden tree, And o'er the ruddy fallows smiled to see The olive drop its fat and mellow shower. How stern old Cato's shaggy brows would bend ; How darkly glare our founder's angry look ; For ill could they the conscript fathers brook To see yon marble porticos extend Wooing the North his breezy shades to lend From many a mountain nook. The green turf was their humble bed, Their costliest canopy the wild- wood tree ; While its rich breast the marble quarry spread. And high the temple rear'd its stately head In honour of the deity. J. MiTFOED.' ODE XV r. TO POMPEIUS GROSPHUS. Otkim Bi'oos rogat in pdtenti. EASE is the weary merchant's prayer. Who plonghs by night the ^gean flood. When neither moon nor stars appear, Or faintly glimmer through the cloud. For ease, the Mede, with quiver graced. For ease, the Thracian hero sighs, Delightful ease all pant to taste, A blessing which no treasure buys. ' Rev. John Mitford, clergyman, poet, and critic. He was editor of the " Gentleman's Magazine " from 1834 to 1850. F 66 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. For neither gold can lull to rest, Nor all a consul's guard beat off The tumults of a troubled breast, The cares that haunt a gilded roof. Happy the man whose table shows A few clean ounces of old plate, No fear intrudes on his repose, No sordid wishes to be great. Poor short-lived things, what plans we lay ! Ah ! why forsake our native home ? To distant climates speed away ; For self sticks close where'er we roam. Care follows hard, and soon o'ertakes The well-rigg'd ship, the warlike steed. Her destined quarry ne'er forsakes, Not the wind flies with half her speed. From anxious fears of future ill. Guard well the cheerful, happy now ; Gild e'en your sorrows with a smile, No blessing is unmix'd below. Thy neighing steeds and lowing herds, Thy numerous flocks around thee graze, And the best purple Tyre affords Thy robe magnificent displays. On me indulgent Heaven bestow'd A rural mansion, neat and small ; This lyre ; — and, as for yonder crowd. The happiness to hate them all. COWPEE. ODES. BOOK II. 67 ODE XVIII. ISon ebwr neque av/remn. That he's content with his small rent ; When richer still doe crave. And for more look by hooh or crook, Though one foot in the grave. NO ivory ceeling, nor roofe adorned With light out-streaming gold ia my house shineth ; No beames from Hymet press pillars formed Where the sky-touching hill Affrick confineth. No wealth by ill m'eanes doe I win, Nor for mee clyents purple spin. But of trust and wit some store have I : To me but poor, come men rais'd high by fortune : More of the Gods themselves ne'r crave I, Nor greater things of my great friend importune : I wish not for more land or rent, Sabine alone yeelds me content. One day another day expelleth, New moons soon die : thou marble-trimmers hyrest, Ready to go where Pluto dwelleth ; And, building, vainely to long life aspirest. Prom Neptune thou the shore dost steale away, Incroaching on the angry sea. What should I tell, how 'gainst all order. Thy neighbour's land-marks alwaies thou removest, And from thy tenants that upon thee border, Ground pilfers ; thou from house and home out- shovest Both man and wife, that wailing beare Their household gods and children deare. > 68 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Yet hast thou (rich Lord) no assurance So great of any house where thou remained, As that thou shalt be kept in durance Of all-devouring hell, and there restrained. What wilt thou ? none the grave can shun : It takes the king, and the king's sonne. Nor was hell's catch-pole with gold bribed Wily Prometheus backward to bring againe : He boasting Tantalus derided, And his proud off-spring though theycry'd out amaine. He easeth men oast down with woe, Whether they call on him or no. J. ASHMORE.l ODE XIX. TO BACCHUS. Bacohwrn im remotis camdna rn/pihvs. BACCHUS on far rocks his lays Teaching — trust me, future days — Listening nymphs, and hnsh'd by awe Satyrs with pricked ears I saw. Evoe ! flutters still my soul : Through my god-thrill'd bosom roll Tumults ! Spare me, Bacchus, hear Dreadful with thine ivy spear ! Grant me Bacchantes wild to sing. Wines and milk's o'erflowing spring. And the treasures of the bee. Trickling from the hollow tree : ' Translator of "Certain (16) selected Odes of Horace Englished, and their arguments annexed (1621)." ODES. BOOK II. 69 Grant me, tuneful, to declare Ariadne's circlet star. And with agony of pain, Penthens and Lycurgus slain. Rivers thou, and barbarous sea Sway'st; on mountains tipsily, Thou with harmless vipers twined Dost the Thracians' tresses bind. Thou, when impious Titans strove To invade the realms of Jove, Cheek'd and paw'd as lion fell, Didst their giant-chief repel ; Thou for dancing form'd and wit, Thou for war was deem'd unfit : Yet in battle, and in peace. Equal were thine energies. Thee with golden horn array' d. Calm, the three tongued Dog survey'd ; And to honour thy retreat, Wagg'd his tail, and lick'd thy feet. Weangham. ODE XX. TO M^CENAS. Non usitatu, non tenid fera/r. BORNE on no weak or vulgar wing. Upward through air, two form'd I'll spring ; Nor longer grovel here, but soar Where envy shall pursue no more. Not I, from humble lineage sprung, Not I, dear Patron, whom thy tongue Summons to fame, will fear to die, Or bound by Styx's fetters lie. 70 TRAN8LATI01S:S OF HORACE. A rougher skin my legs assume ; My upward limbs the cygnets' plume Invests ; my shoulders, fingers feel The feathery softness o'er them steal. Fleeter than Icarus now I'll haste, A tuneful swan, to Libya's waste And heaving sands, where Bospor's wave Tosses, or Arctic tempests rave. Me Colchis, Dacia me shall learn, Who hides her fear of Marsian stem ; Me Scythia's hordes, the well-trained son Of Spain, ajid he who quaffs the Rhone. From my mock bier be far away The loud lament, the funeral lay ; And, tribute to my fancied doom. Far the vain honours of the tomb. Weangham. ODES. BOOK III. 71 BOOK III. ODE I. (Paraphrased.) Odi profcmu/m vulgios et a/roeo, HENCE, ye profane ! I hate you all ; Both the great vulgar and the small. To virgin minds, which yet their native whiteness hold, Not yet discoloured with the love of gold, That jaundice of the soul, (Which makes it look so gilded and so foul,) To you, ye very few, these truths I tell ; The Muse inspires my song ; hark and observe it well. We look on men and wonder at such odds 'Twixt things that were the same by birth ; We look on kings, as giants of the earth. Those giants are but pigmies to the gods. The humblest bush and proudest oak Are but of equal proof against the thunder-stroke, Beauty and strength, and wit, and wealth, and power. Have their short flourishing hour ; And love to see themselves, and smile, And joy in their pre-eminence awhile ; Bv'n so in the same land Poor weeds, rich corn, gay flowers, together stand ; Alas ! death mows down all with an impartial hand ; And all ye men, whom greatness does so please, Ye feast, I fear, like Damocles : If ye, your eyes, could upwards move, (But ye, I fear, think nothing is above,) Te would perceive by what a little thread, The sword still hangs over your head : 72 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. No tide of wine would drown your cares ; No mirtt or music over-noise your fears : The fear of death, would you so watchful keep, As not t'admit the image of it. Sleep. Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces, And yet so humble too, as not to scorn The meanest country cottages : His poppy grows among the corn. The halcyon Sleep will never build his nest In any stormy breast. 'Tis not enough that he does find Clouds and darkness in their mind ; Darkness but half his work will do : 'Tis not enough ; he must find quiet too. The man, who in all wishes he does make. Does only Nature's counsel take. That wise and happy man will never fear The evil aspects of the year ; Nor tremble, though two comets should appear ; He does not look in almanacks to see Whether he fortunate shall be : Let Mars and Saturn in the heavens conjoin, And what they please against the world design. So Jupiter within him shine. If of your pleasures and desires no end be found, God to your cares and fears will set no bound. What would content you ? who can tell ? Te fear so much to lose what ye have got. As if ye liked it well ; Te strive for more, as if ye liked it not. Go level hills, and fill up seas, Spare nought that may your wanton fancy please ; But, trust me, when you have done all this. Much will be missing still, and much will be amiss. OOWLEY. ODES. BOOK III. 73 ODE II. (Pai-t.)' Dulee et deconi/m est pro patria mori. HOW blees'd is he, who for his country dies, Since death pursues the coward as he flies ! The youth in vain would fly from fate's attack, With trembling knees, and terror at his back : Though fear should lend him pinions like the wind, Yet swifter fate will seize him from behind. Virtue repulsed, yet knows not to repine, But shall with unattainted honour shine ; Nor stoops to take the staff", nor lays it down, Just as the rabble please to smile or frown. Virtue, to crown her favourites, loves to try Some new untrodden passage to the sky : Where Jove a seat among the gods will give To those who die, for meriting to live. Next faithful silence hath a sure reward ; Within our breast be every secret barred ! He who betrays his friend shall never be Under one roof, or in one ship with me ; For who with traitors would his safety trust Lest, with the wicked, Heaven involve the just ? And though the villain 'scape awhile, he feels Slow vengeance, like a bloodhound, at his heels.^ Swift. 1 To the Earl of Oxford, late Lord Treasurer, sent to him when in the Tower, 1716. ' " Seldom the villain though much haste he make Lame-footed vengeance fails to overtake." Sir Waltek Ealeigh. 74 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. ODE III. Juafmrn aa tenacem propositi vinmi. THE man resolv'd and steady to his trust, Inflexible to all and obstinately just, May the rnde rabble's insolence despise, Their senseless clamours, and tumnltnous cries : The tyrant's fierceness he beguiles. And the stern brow, and the harsh voice defies, And with superior greatness smiles. Not the rough whirlwind that deforms Adria's black gulf and vexes it with storms, The stubborn virtue of his soul can move ; Not the red arm of angry Jove, That flings the thunder from the sky, And gives it rage to roar, and strength to fly. Should the whole frame of nature round him break. In ruin, and confusion hurl'd. He, unconcern'd would hear the mighty crack, And stand secure, amidst a falling world. Such were the god-like arts that led Bright Pollux to the blest abodes ; Such did for great Alcides plead. And gain'd a place among the gods ; Where now Augustus, mix'd with heroes, lies And to his lips, the nectar bowl applies ; His ruddy lips, the purple tincture show, And with immortal stains, divinely glow. By arts like these, did young Lyseus rise: His tigers drew him to the skies, ODES. BOOK III. 75 Wild from flie desert and nnbroke ; In vain they foam'd, in vain they star'd, In vain their eyes with fnfy glar'd ; He tam'd 'em to the lash, and bent 'em to the yoke. Such were the paths that Rome's great founder trod, When in a whirlwind snatch'd on high, He shook off dull mortality, And lost the monarch in the God. Bright Juno then her awful silence broke, And thus th' assembled deities bespoke, " Troy," says the Goddess, " perjnr'd Troy has felt The dire effects of her proud tyrant's guilt : The towering pile and soft abodes, Wall'd by the hands of servile Gods, Now spreads its ruins all around, And lies inglorious on the ground ; An umpire, partial and unjust, And a lewd woman's impious lust Lay heavy on her head, and sunk her to the dust. Since false Laomedon's tyrannic sway. That durst defraud th' Immortals of their pay. Her guardian Gods renounc'd their patronage, Nor would the fierce invading foe repel : To my resentments, and Minerva's rage. The guilty king and the whole people fell. And now the long protracted wars are o'er, The soft adult'rer shines no more ; No more does Hector's force the Trojans shield, That drove whole armies back, and singly clear'd the field. My vengeance sated, I, at length, resign To Mars his offspring of the Trojan line : 76 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Advano'd to Godhead, let him rise And take his station in the skies ; There enteftain his ravish'd sight, With scenes of glory, fields of light ; Qnaff with the Gods immortal wine, And see adoring nations crowd his shrine : The thin remains of Troy's afflicted host. In distant realms may seats nnenvied find, And flourish on a foreign coast ; But far be Rome from Troy disjoin'd, Remov'd by seas from the disastrous shore, May endless billows rise between, and storms unnum- ber'd roar. Still let the curs'd detested place. Where Priam lies, and Priam's faithless race. Be cover'd o'er with weeds, and hid in grass. There let the wanton flocks, unguarded, stray ; Or while the lonely shepherd sings, Amidst the mighty ruins play, And frisk upon the tombs of kings. May tigers there, and all the savage kind, Sad solitary haunts, and silent deserts find : In gloomy vaults, and nooks of palaces. May th' unmolested lioness Her brindled whelps securely lay, Or, couch'd in dreadful slumbers, waste the day. While Troy, in heaps of ruins, lies, Rome and the Roman Capitol shall rise ; Th' illustrious exiles, nnconfin'd, Shall triumph far and near, and rule mankind. In vain the sea's intruding tide Europe from Afric shall divide, OJ)ES. BOOK III. 77 And part the sever'd world in two, Through. Afric's sands their triumphs they shall spread ; And the long train of victories pursue To Nile's yet nndiscover'd head. Riches the hardy soldier shall despise, And look on gold with nndesiring eyes. Nor the disbowell'd earth explore. In search of the forbidden ore : Those glitt'ring ills, conceal'd within the mine, Shall lie untouch'd, and innocently shine. To the last bounds that nature sets, The piercing colds and sultry heats, The god-like race shall spread their arms : Now fill the polar circle with alarms. Till storms and tempests their pursuits confine : Now sweat for conquest, underneath the line. This only law the victor shall restrain, On these conditions shall he reign : If none his guilty hand employ. To build again a second Troy, If none the rash design pursue Nor tempt the vengeance of the Gods anew. A^ curse there cleaves to the devoted place. That shall the new foundations raze. Greece shall in mutual leagues conspire To storm the rising town, with fire, And, at their army's head, myself will show What Juno, urged to all her rage, can do. Thrice, should Apollo's self the city raise, And line it round with walls of brass, 78 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Thrice, should my fav'rite Greeks his works confound, And hew the shining fabric to the ground ; Thrice, should her captive dames to Grreece return, And their dead sons, and slaughter'd husbands mourn," But, hold ! my Muse, forbear thy towering flight, Nor bring the secrets of the Gods to light : In vain would thy presumptuous verse Th' immortal rhetoric rehearse ; The mighty strains, in lyric numbers bound, Forget their majesty, and lose their sound. Addison. THE SAME. (Fragment.) THE man of firm and noble soul No factious clamours can control : No threat'ning tyrant's darkling brow Can swerve him from his just intent : Gales, the warring waves which plough By Auster on the billows spent, To curb the Adriatic main. Would awe his fix'd determined mind in vain. Ay, and the red right arm of Jove, Hurtling his lightnings from above, With all his terrors there unfurl'd, He would, unmoved, unawed behold. The flames of an expiring world. Again in crashing chaos roll'd. In vast promiscuous ruin hurl'd, Might light his glorious funeral pile ; Still dauntless 'midst the wreck of earth he'd smile. Bteon.' ' The above fragment was Byron's solitary attempt at a poetic rendering of any one of the Horatian odes. " He was," says ^oore. ODES. BOOK III. 79 ODE IV. TO CALLIOPE. Descende caelo, et die age tibia. DESCEND from heaven, and in a lengthen'd strain, Queen of melodious sounds, the song maintain, Or on the voice high-raia'd, the breathing flute, The lyre of golden tone, or sweet Phoebean lute. Hark ! the celestial voice I raptur'd hear ! Or does a pleasing frenzy charm my ear ? Thro' hallow'd groves I stray, where streams beneath From lucid fountains flow, and zephyrs balmy breathe. Fatigu'd with sleep, and youthful toil of play, When on a mountain's brow reclin'd I lay. Near to my natal soil, around my head The fabled woodland doves a verdant foliage spread ; Matter, be sure, of wonder most profound To all the gazing habitants around. Who dwell in Acherontias airy glades. Amid the Bantian woods, or low Ferentum's meads. By snakes of poison black, and beasts of prey, That thus, in dewy sleep, unharm'd I lay ; Laurels and myrtle were around me pil'd. Not without guardian gods an animated child. " to the last unable to vanquish a prepossession, with which school association had inoculated him, against Horace." " Then farewell Horace : whom I hated so Not for thy faults but mine : it is a curse To understana, not feel thy lyric flow, To comprehend, but never love thy verse." Childe Harold. 80 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Tours I am ever, tarmonious Nine, Whether I joy in Tibiir's vale supine ; Whether I climb the Sabine mountain's height. Or in PrsBneste's groves or Baisen streams delight. Nor tree devoted, nor tempestuous main, Nor flying hosts, that swept Philippi's plain In fearful rout, your filial bard destroy'd, While in your springs divine, and choral sports hejoy'd. When by the Muses faithful guidance led. On Lybia's thirsty sands I'll fearless tread, Or climb the venturous bark, and launch from shore, Tho' Bosphorus arous'd with madding horrors roar. Nor Britons of inhospitable strain. Nor quiver'd Scythians, nor the Caspian main, Nor he who joyous quafis the thirsty bowl. Streaming with horse's blood, shall shake my dauntless Boul. When Csesar by your forming arts inspir'd. Cheerful disbands his troops, of conquest tir'd ; And yields to willing peace his laurel'd spoils. In the Pierian cave you charm the hero's toils ; Gracious from you the lenient counsels flow. Which bid the hero spare his prostrate foe : For Caesar rules like Jove, whose equal sway The ponderous mass of earth, and stormy seas obey '.^ ' " Who rules the duller earth, the wind-swollen streams, The civil cities and the infernal realms, Who the host of hearen and the mortal band Alone doth govern by his just command." SiE Waltek Raleigh. These fragmentary poetical translations occur in the " History of the World." ODES. BOOK in. 81 O'er gods and mortals, o'er the dreary plains, And shadowy ghosts, supremely just he reigns, But, dreadful in his wrath, to hell pnrsu'd. With falling thunders dire, the fierce Titanian hrood, Whose horrid youth, elate with impious pride, Unnumber'd, on their sinewy force relied ; Mountain on mountain pil'd, they rais'd in air. And shook the throne of Jove, and bade the Thunderer fear. But what could Mimas, of enormous might, Typhcens or Porphyrion's threat'ning height, Or bold Enceladus fierce-darting far The trunks of trees uptorn, dire archer of the war, To sage Minerva's clashing shield oppose, Altho' with headlong rage inspir'd they rose ? While Vulcan here in flames devour'd his way. There matron Juno stood, and there the God of Day, Resolv'd, till he had quell'd th* aspiring foe. Never to lay aside the unerring bow ; Who the pure dews of fair Castalia loves, There bathes his flowing hair, and haunts his natal groves. lU-counsell'd force, by its own native weight, Headlong to ruin falls ; with happier fate While the good gods upraise the just design, But bold, nnhallow'd schemes pursue with wrath divine. This truth shall hundred-handed Gyas prove, And warm Orion, who, with impious love Tempting the goddess of the sylvan scene. Was by her virgin darts, gigantic victim ! slain. a 82 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. On her own monsters hurl'd with hideous weight, Pond mother Earth deplores her oflEspring's fate, By thunders dire to livid Orcus doom'd, Nor fire can force its way thro' ^tna unconsum'd. Such are the pains to lawless lust decreed ; On Tityos' growing liver vultures feed With rage ungorg'd, while Pluto stern detains His amorous rival bound in thrice an hundred chains . Fkancis. ODE V. Goelo ionomiem credidmius Jovem. JOVE'S power the thunder peal proclaims ; Britain's and Parthia's hated names, Inscrib'd mid Caesar's victories Exalt the hero to the skies. And has thy soldier, Crassus, wived With a barbarian, meanly lived ? Beneath a Median standard ranged, (O Senate shamed ! O manners changed !) Mail'd in & foreign sire's array, Has the stern Marsian's brow grown grey — Vesta, race, robe, and rites forgot. As if great Home, Rome's Jove were not ? This, patriot Eegulus foreknew ; And spurn'd, to home and honour true, The terms whose chronicled disgrace Would paralyze each rising race. If they, who bore to live in chains, Pined not unwept. " In Punic fanes Rome's captive banner hung (he cried,) These eyes have witness'd ; from a side Gash'd by no wound the sword resign'd. And cords round Roman arms entwined ; ODES. BOOK III. 83 Carthage flung open, and her field (Erst our rich spoil) securely till'd ! Hope ye more brave a ransom'd race ? Ye couple damage with disgrace. Alas ! once tinctur'd for the loom, Ne'er will the fleece its snow resume ; Nor valour sullied by a stain Renew its fire, and glow again. If stag released will brave the fight, Then count upon that soldier's might, Who once has trusted treacherous foe : Then deem he'll strike heroic blow, Who once has felt the hostile cord, And quiver'd at a Punic sword. 'Twas his, in wild despair of life. To crouch for peace 'mid battle's strife mighty Carthage, rear'd to fame, On ruin of the Roman name ! " And thus, his wife's chaste kiss declined. His infants clinging arms untwined, With eyes cast down, in sternest mood, The self-attainted warrior stood : Till he the wavering Senate bent With counsel beyond precedent. And midst his weeping friends' dismay, Illustrious exile ! hied away. Though well, alas ! he knew what woes Were meant him by his savage foes ; Through kin, through crowds before him cast, With foot as firm the hero past As if each client's petty broil Duly composed, from civil toil He turn'd to some Venaran dome Or far Tarentum's quiet home. Weangham. 84 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. ODE VI. TO THE EOMANS. Deliota ma^onrwm vm/meritv,s lues. THOSE ills your ancestors have done, Romans ! are now become your own : And they will cost yon dear, Unless you soon repair The falling .temples, which the gods proToke, And statues, sullied yet with sacrilegious smoke. Propitious Heaven, that raised your fathers high For humble grateful piety, (As it rewarded their respect) Hath sharply punish'd your neglect. All empires on the gods depend, Begun by their command, at their command they end. Let Crassus' ghost and Labienus tell How twice, by Jove's revenge, our legions fell, And with insulting pride. Shining in Boman spoils, the Parthian victors ride. The Scythian and Egyptian scum Had almost ruined Borne, While our seditions took their part, Fill'd each Egyptian sail, and wing'd each Scythian dart. First these flagitious times (Pregnant with unknown crimes) Conspire to violate the nuptial bed, From which polluted head Infectious streams of crowding sins began, And through the spurious breed and guilty nation ran. Behold a fair and melting maid Bound 'prenticie to a common trade ; ODES. BOOK III. 85 Ionian artists, at a miglity price, Instruct her in the mysteries of vice. What nets to spread, where subtle baits to lay, And, with an early hand, they form the temper'd clay. 'Tis not the spawn of such as these. That dy'd with Punic blood the conquer'd seas. And quash'd the stern ^acides ; Made the proud Asian monarch feel How weak his gold was 'gainst Europe's steel : Forc'd e'en dire Hannibal to yield, And won the long disputed world, at Zama's fatal field. But soldiers of a rustic mould, Rough, hardy, season' d, manly, bold; Either they dug the stubborn ground. Or, through hewn woods, their weighty strokes did sound ; And after the declining sun Had chang'd the shadows, and their task was done. Home with their weary team they took their way, And drown'd in friendly bowls the labour of the day. Time sensibly all things 'impairs ; Our fathers have been worse than theirs ; And we than ours ; next age will see A race more profligate than we, With all the pains we take, have skill enough to be. ROfiCOMMONy ODE VII. TO ASTERIB. Qidd fles, Asterie, quern tibi candicK. WHY weepest Asterie ? when in the first spring. The western winds thy Gyges home will bring. Rich with Bithynian wars, whose constant love In him being young, from thee shall ne're remove. 86 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Who with strong gales, and tempests great from heaven, Against his will, now into Greece is driven ; Where the cold nights with watching he doth spend, And from his eyes with sorrow tears doth send. When as a subtile messenger is sent From Chloe, who doth many ways invent Her loves to tell, like that perfidious wife Who did deprive Bellerophon of life, Then tells of Peleus being almost slaine. Whilst from Hippolite's love he did refraine, Tet cunningly more stories doth relate Teaching in vain those sins which he did hate ; But he being sound, those words with deafer ear Than the Icarian rocks, from him did hear. So take you heed, least that Enipius vile With his lascivious lusts doth thee beguile. Though none can manage a horse like to him. Or any swifter through the Tiber swim. When night comes shut thy doors, nor do look out When his shrill sounding pipe doth come about : And though he often doth thee cruel name, Tet be thou constant, and alwayes the same. John Smith. ODE VIII. TO M^CBNAS. Ma/rUis coelebs qwid ogam Gahnd/is. LEARNED Msecenas, wonder not that I, (A batchelor) invoke that deity. Which at this feast the married rout adore, And yearly do implore. ODES. BOOK III. 87 Tkey pray the gods to make their burden light, And that their yokefellows may never fight : I praise them, not for giving me a wife, But saving of my life. By heav'n redeem'd, I 'scap'd a falling tree, And yearly own that strange delivery. Yearly rejoyce, and drink the briskest wine, Nor spill it at their shrine. Come (my Maecenas) let us drink, and thus Cherish that life, those powers have given us : A thousand cups to midwife this new birth With inofiensive mirth. No state afiairs near my Maecenas come, Since all are fain that fought victorious Rome. By civil broils the Medes, our foes, will fall The weakest to the wall. Our fierce and ancient enemy of Spain Is now subdu'd, and tamely bears our chain. The savage Scythian too begins to yield, About to quit the field ! Bear they the load of government that can ; Thou, since a private, and good-natur'd man, Enjoy th' advantage of the present hour. For why should'st thou look sour ? Thomas Flatman.' ' Author of some forgotten poems, and of one " On Marriage," which survives in Looker's " Lyra Elegantiarum." He died 1688. 88 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. ODE IX. •CARMEN AMGEB^UM. Donee gratus errnn tibi. Horace. WHILE, Lydia, I was loved of thee, Nor any was preferr'd 'fore me To hug thy whitest neck, than I The: Persian king lived not more happily. Lydia, While thoti no other didst affect. Nor Chloe was of more respect. Than Lydia, far fam'd Lydia, I flourish'd more than Roman Ilia. Horace, Now Thracian Chloe governs me, Skilfal in harp and melody, For whose affection, Lydia, I, So fate spares her, am well content to die. Lydia. My heart now set on fire is. By Omithes' son, yonng Calais ; For whose commutual flames here I, To save his life, twice am content to die. Horace. Say, our first loves we should revoke And, severed, join in brazen yoke — Admit I, Chloe, put away. And love, again love cast-off Lydia ? ODES. BOOK III. 89 LydAa. Though mine be brighter than the star ; Thou lighter than the cork by far, Rough as the Adriatic sea, yet I Will live with thee, or else for thee will die. Heeeick. THE SAME. Horace. WHILST I was fond, and you were kind, Nor any dearer youth, reclined On your soft bosom sought to rest, Phraates was not half so bless'd. LydAa. Whilst you adored no other face, Nor loved me in the second place. My happy, celebrated fame Outshone e'en Ilia's envied name. Horace. Me, Chloe now possesses whole, Her voice and lyre command my soul ; , ; Nor would I death itself decline. Could her life ransom'd be with mine. LydAa. For me the lovely Calais burns. And, warmth for warmth, my heart returns, Twice would I life with joy resign. Could his be ransom'd once with mine. 90 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. ■ Horace, What if sweet love, whose bands we broke, Again should tame us to the yoke ; Should banish'd Ghloe cease to reign, And Lydia her lost power regain ? Lydia. Though Hesper be less fair than he^ . Thou wilder than the raging sea. Lighter than down ; yet gladly I With thee would live, with thee would die. Bishop Atteebuet.^ ODE X. TO LTCB. 'Exivem/wm Tanam si Inheres, Lyce. LTCE ! Lyce ! were thy charms Doom'd to some barbarian's arms ; Didst thou quaff the Tanais' waves : Still should pity mourn his fate, Who, before thy cruel gate, Peels the blast, the tempest braves. ' Dr. Atterbury's two translations from Horace, the above, and ode iii. book It. have attained a wide celebrity. He wrote a trans- lation in verse of the First Eclogue of Virgil's Bucolics, to which a peculiar interest attaches from the appropriateness of the allusions to the writer's own circumstances, he being then an exile in Paris, in the decline of his years, suffering under poverty and ill health, and hopeless of revisiting his native land. " We, alas ! distress'd and driv'n from home, O'er Lybian sands or Scythian plains must roam : Shall ever I, when many years have roU'd, My much lov'd native soil again behold ? Shall yon fair lawn be the rough soldiei''s lot ? Shall foreign landlords mow that fertile spot ? Behold ! the blessings civil discord yields I Behold ! for whom we till'd and sow'd our fields," &c. ODES. BOOK III. 91 Mark, oh mark ! the hollow roar Fills the grove, thy ratt'Iing door Echoes to the passing winds ! Whilst with purer air below, Jove congeals the spreading snow, Snow that icy chillness binds. Quit that stern, that haughty mien ! Hateful to love's gentle queen ; Wheels once loos'd shall backward haste. OflEspring of a Tuscan sire. Canst thou frown on soft desire ? Tlmu, Penelope, the chaste ? Though my prayers, the gifts I send, Fail thy stubborn heart to bend ; Though my cheeks as violet pale ; Though no just resentment rise When thy lord to harlots flies. Hear, oh hear, love's tender tale ! Hard as knotted oaks to break. Fiercer than the Moorish snake, Tet attend these parting strains ! Thinkst thou, this my wearied side Long thy threshold can abide, Pierc'd by cold, and chill'd by rains ? William Boscawen." ' Author of a translation of Horace, 1793-98. "A work in the judgment of all classical men very greatly superior to Francis's translation, in many essential points of merit." — Chalmebs. 92 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. ODE XI. TO MERCUET. Mercwfi, nam te docilis magistro. OMERCURT ! (for taught by you Deaf stones by tb' ears Amphion drew) And shell, whose hollow belly rings With seven strings : Once mute and graceless, now the tongue Of feasts and temples : lend a song To thrid the maze of Lyde's prayre- Besisting eare. Who like a three years' colt doth fetch A hundred rings, and 's hard to catch : Free from a husband, and not fit For backing yet. Thou mak'st stiff forests march, retreate Prone rivers : Cerberus the great Porter of Hell, to thee gave way Stroak'd with a lay, Though with a hundred snakes he curie His head, and from his nostrils hurle A filthy stream, which all bedrops His triple chops. Izion too with a forct smile Did grin. The tubs stood dry awhile : Whilst with thy musiok thou didst please The Belides. ODES. BOOK III. 93 Tell Lyde that : that virgin-slaughter, And famous torment, the vain water Coozing their urnes through thousand draines : And posthume paius For cruel maides laid up in store. Cruel ! for what could they do more, That could with unrelenting steel Their lovers kill ? One only worthy Hymen's flame, And worthy of immortal fame, Her perjur'd father (pious child !) Bravely beguU'd : Who said to her young husband : Wake ! Least an eternal sleep thou, take When least thou lookest ; deceive my sire And sisters dire. Who like so many tigers tear (Alas !) the prey : I (tenderer) Will neither slay, nor keep thee thus I'th' slaughter-house. Me let my savage father chain, Because my husband is unslain. Or into farthest Africa, Ship me away. By land or sea, take thou thy flight, Cover'd with wings of love and night : Go, go, and write when thou art safe, My epitaph ! Sir R. Fanshawe. 94 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. ODE xn, TO NEOBULE. Misera/rum est, neque Amori dare l/ucl/wm, neque d/ulci. "~r^IS hard to be deny'd to prove X The soft delights of pleasing love, 'Tis hard to be deny'd to play, And with sweet wine wash cares away ; Still to be tost with doubting fear, Lest angry friends should prove severe, And with sharp chidings wound our ear. Young wanton Cupid's darts and bow Have foro't thy spindle from thee now, Thy wool, and all Minerva's toyls Are charming Hebrus' beauties' spoyls ; He lives thy mind's continual theme, And you can think on nought but him ; Hebrus, a youth of manly force. None sits so well the manag'd horse j Bellerophon would strive in vain To guide with so gentile a rein : In all he shows a manly grace, In cuffing stout, and swift in race : When his oyl'd arms have cut the flood. In swimming strong ; he takes the wood. Through plains pursues the flying doe, And shoots with an unerring bow ; Or else for boars his toyls he sets, And takes them foaming in his nets. Ceeech. ODES. BOOK III. 95 ODE xm. TO THE FOUNTAIN" OF BANDUSIA. fons Bcmcl/usicB, splencHdior vitro, YE wares, that gushing fall with purest stream, Bandnsian fount ! to whom the products sweet Of richest wines belong. And fairest flowers of spring ; To thee a chosen victim will I slay, A kid, who glowing in lascivious youth, Just blooms with budding horn, And, in vara thought elate, Yet destines future war : but ah ! too soon His reeking blood with crimson shall enrich Thy pure translucent flood, And tinge thy crystal clear. Thy sweet recess the sun in mid-day hour Can ne'er invade ; thy streams the labour'd ox Refresh with cooling draught. And glad the wand'ring herds. Thy name shall shine, with endless honours graced, While on my shell I sing, the nodding oak. That o'er thy cavern deep Waves his embowering head. J. Waeton.' ' Rev. JosepTi Warton, the editor of Pope, brother to Thos. Warton the laureat. 96 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. THE SAME. BANDUSIA ! more than crystal clear ! Whose soothing murmurs charm the ear ! Whose margin soft, with flow'rets crown'd, Invites the festive band around, Their careless limbs diffused, supine. To quaff the soul-enlivening wine. To thee a tender kid I vow, That aims for light his budding brow, In thought, the wrathful combat proves, Or wantons wiih his little loves : But vain are all his purposed schemes. Delusive all his flattering dreams ; To-morrow shall his fervent blood Stain the pure silver of thy flood. When fiery Sirius blasts the plain, Untouch'd thy gelid streams remain. To thee the fainting flocks repair To taste thy cool reviving air ; To thee, the ox, with toil oppress'd, And lays his languid limbs at rest. As springs of old renown'd, thy name, Bless'd fountain ! I devote to fame, Thus, while I sing in deathless lays The verdant holm, whose waving sprays, The sweet retirement to defend, High o'er the moss-grown rook impend, Whence prattling in loquacious play, Thy sprightly waters leap away. James Bbattie.' ' The author of " The Minstrel." ODES. BOOK III. &7 ODE XVI. TO M^CBNAS. InohiiSam Dcmaen Uirris aenea. THE lone gray tower on Argo's monntain shore, The faithful watch-dog at the midnight door ; Safe in their guard, imprison'd love had slept, Her bafiSed suitors youthful Danae wept. But, with rich bribes, the laughing gods betray'd The yielding guardian, and the enamour'd maid, Through armed satellites and walls of stone. Gold wings its flight, resistless though alone.' Ah ! who the wiles of womankind hath tried ? By gold, the priest, the blameless augur died. Mark Philip's march ! the obedient cities fall, Ope the wide gates, and yields the embattled wall.^ To gold each petty tyrant sank a prey, King after king confess'd its powerful sway ; ' The brazen tower with doors close barred, And watchful bandogs fi-iehtful guard, Kept safe the maideunead Of Danae from secret love, 'Till smiling Venus and wise Jove Beguiled her father's dread : For, changed into a golden shower. The god into her lap did pour Himself and took his pleasure. Through guards and stony walls to break, The thunderbolt is far more weak Than is a golden treasure. SiK Walter Raleigh. ' By gifts the Macedon clave gates asunder. The kings, envying his estate, brought under. Ibid. 98 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. On wisdom's patriot voice the siren hnng, And stay'd the thunders of the Athenian tongue ; The war-worn veteran oft his trophies sold ; And venal navies own'd the power of gold. Enlarging wealth increasing wishes share, The Gods have curs'd the miser's hoard with care ; To modest worth are choicest blessings sent ; Heaven loves the humble virtues of content. Far from the rich thy poet loves to dwell, And share the silence of the hermit's cell. The wild brook, babbling down the mountain's side ; The chesnut copse that spreads its leafy pride ; The garden plot that asks but little room ; The ripening cornfield, and the orchard's bloom ; These simple pleasures, trust me, are unknown To the rich palace, or the jewell'd throne ; The wealthy lords of Afric's wide domain Would spurn my lowly roof, and bounded plain. Cold are the Sabine hills ! hives not for me Its hoarded nectar, the Calabrian bee. Here no rich vines their amber clusters rain, Not mine the fleece that decks Gallioia's plain. Tet want, for once, avoids a poet's door, Content and grateful, can I ask for more ? But should thy bard seek ampler means to live, Patron and friend ! thy liberal hand would give. What if increasing wealth with-holds its shower ? If the rich widow guards her jealous dower ? Then, wiser, learn the effect is still the same, From humbler wishes, and contracted aim. More wealthy thou, than if thy lands could join All Phrygia's harvests, to the Lydian mine : ODES. BOOK III. 99 Not want alone surrounds the opening door, For pride and avarice are ever poor ; Delusive hope, and wild desire combined, Feed with vain thoughts the hunger of the mind. But bless'd is he to whom indulgent Heaven, Man's happiest state, enough, not more, has given. J. MiTFOED. ODE XTII. TO ^LIUS LAMIA. ^U, vetusto nobilis ah Lamo. Argwment. He Lamia's rega stem displays Forth, in encom,iastic layes ; Wills him his genius to cheer Against the presag'd storm appear. o ^LIUS, sprung from Lamia's ancient name. From whose stem all precedent Lamias came, And the family and tribe Which noting registers describe ; Thou from his loyns drawst thine originall, Who reigned first within the Formian wall, And whose amply-spread command Kaught Liris, laving Marie's strand. An eastern tempest shall with furious roar Fling leaves in woods, and weeds upon the shore, If the aged crow descry A true presaging augury. 100 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Lay while thou canst, dry faggots on the fire : With luscious wine to-morrow feed desire, A pig, fat, and tender slay. And let thy hindes keep holy-day. Barton Holtdat. ODE XVIII.' TO FAUNUS. Fmme, Nymphomt/m fugientwm amator. FAUNUS, who lov'st to chase the light-foot nymphs. Propitious guard my fields and sunny farm, And nurse, with kindly care, The promise of my flock ! So, to thy powers, a kid shall yearly bleed. And the full bowl to genial "Venus flow : And on thy rustic shrine, Bich odours incense breathe : So through, the vale the wanton herds shall bound. When thy December comes, and on the green The steer in traces loose With the free village sport ; No more the lamb shall fly the insidious wolf. Thq, woods shall shed their leaves, and the glad hind The ground, where once he dug. Shall beat in sprightly dance. J. Waeton. > Written in imitation of the style of Milton's " Ode to Pyrrha." ODES. BOOK III. 101 ODE XX. TO PYRRHUS. Non vides, qua/nto moveas pericJo. How dangerous a thing 'twould prove 2" abstract Nearchus from Ms love. PTRRHUS, how dang'rous 'tis, confess, To take whelps from a lyoness : Straight thoti 'soarr'd ravisher wilt run, When battel's done. When she through crowds of youthful men Shall to Nearchus turn agen. Great question 'tis who bears away The greater prey. As thou prepar'st thy speedy piles, She whets her dreadful tusks the whiles : He (th' umpire) trampled down (they say), The victor's bay. And wafted his sweet 'shiveled hair 'With gentle blasts : like Nireus fair. Or Ganymede snatcht up from fount- full Ida's mount. Baeton Holtdat. 102 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. ODE XXI. TO A CASK (pa/raphrase). nata mecum consule Manlio. HAIL gentle Cask ! whose venerable head With hoary down and ancient dust o'erspread, Proclaims that since the vine first brought thee forth Old age has added to thy worth. Whether the sprightly juice thou dost contain, Thy votarys will to wit and love, Or senseless noise and lewdness move, Or sleep, the cure of these and every other pain. Since to some day propitious and great, Justly at first thou wast design'd by fate: This day, the happiest of thy many years. With thee I will forget my cares : To my Corvinus' health thou shalt go round, (Since thou art ripen'd for to-day. And longer age would bring decay,) Till every anxious thought in the rich stream be drown'd. To thee my friend his roughness shall submit. And Socrates himself awhile forget ; Thus when old Cato would sometimes unbend The rugged stiffness of his mind. Stern and severe, the Stoic quaiPd his bowl, His frozen virtue felt the charm. And soon grew pleased, and soon grew warm, And bless'd the sprightly power that cheer'd his gloomy Boul. With kind constraint ill-nature dost thou bend, And mould the snarling cynic to a friend. ODES. BOOK III. 103 The sage reserved, and famed for gravity, Finds all he knows summ'd np in thee, And by thy power unlock'd, grows easy, gay, and free. The swain, who did some credulous nymph persuade To grant him all, inspired by thee, Devotes her to his vanity, And to his fellow fops toasts the abandon'd maid. The wretch, who, press' d beneath a load of cares. And labouring with continual woes, despairs, If thy kind warmth does his chill'd sense invade. From earth he rears his drooping head : Revived by thee, he ceases now to mourn ; His flying cares give way to haste, And to the god resigns his breast. Where hopes of better days and better things return. The laboring hind, who with hard toil and pains. Amidst his wants, a wretched life maintains ; If thy rich juice his homely supper crown, Hot with thy fires, and bolder grown. Of kings, and of theiiT arbitrary power. And how by impious arms they reign, Fiercely he talks, with rude disdain, And vows to be a slave, to be a wretch no more. Fair queen of love ! and thou, great god of wine I Hear every Grace, and all ye Powers Divine, All that to mirth and friendship do incline. Crown this auspicious Cask, and happy night, With all things that can give delight ; Be every care and anxious thought away ; Te tapers, still be bright and clear. Rival the moon, and each pale star ; Your beams shall yield to none but his who brings the day. Nicholas Rowe. 104 TRANSLATIONS OF SORACE. ODE xxir. TO DIANA. MontiAi/m ousios n&moriimque Virgo. CHASTE goddess of the radiant night, Who lov'st the airy mountain's height, And guardst the sylvan bower ; Who, thrice invoked with pions prayers, Reliev'st the teeming matron's cares, Sav'd by thy triple power : Accept this vow ! henceforth the pine That shades my humble roof is thine : Where, menacing the sight. Slain by my hand, a boar shall stain. Bach year, thy consecrated fane, On this returning light. William Bosoiwen. ODE XXIII. TO PHIDTLE. Oodo swpinas si tuleris ma/ims, P, rural Phidile, at the moon's arise. I To Heaven thou lift thy hands in humble wise : If thou with sacrifice thy Lars wilt please, Or with new fruit or greedie swine appease, Thy fertile vineyard shall not suffer blast From pest'lent south, nor parching dew be cast Upon thy com, nor shall thy children dear, Feel sickly fits in autumn of the year. ODES. BOOK III. 105 It is the long vow'd victime, which, is fed 'Mongst holmes, and okes on snowy Algid's head, Or which in fat Albanian pastures grew. That shall the priest's sharp axe with blood imbrue. To thee, who petty Gods dost magmfie. With mirtle branch, and sprig of rosemary, It nothing appertains their feasts to keep With frequent slaughters of the fattest sheep. If thy hand, free from ill, the altar touch. Thou shalt th' offended Gods appease as much With gift of sparkling salt and pious meal. As if thou vows with costly victimes seal. SiE Thomas Hawkins, ODE XXV. TO BACCHUS. Quo me, Baoche, rapis hi/i. WHITHER dost thou drag me, son of Semele ! Me, who am lost in wine ? Through what lone groves, through what wild haunts of thine, Am I, iu this strange frenzy, forced to flee ? From what deep cavern, (as I meditate On peerless Caesar's fame, and deathless fate,) Shall I be heard, when my exulting cries Proclaim him, friend of Jove, and star in yon bright skies? Something I'll shout — new — strange — as yet unsung By any other human tongue ! Thus, stung by thee, the sleepless Bacchanals ever Grow mad, whilst gazing on the Hebrus river, 106 TRANSLATIONS OF BORAGE. On snow-white Thrace, and Rhodope, whose crown Barbarian footsteps trample down : And oh ! like them it joys my sonl To wander where the rivers roll, To gaze npon the dark and desert groves. O thou great Power, whom the Naiad loves, And Bacchant women worship, (who overthrow The mighty ash-trees, as they go) Nothing little, nothing low. Nothing mortal, will I sing ! 'Tis risk, but pleasant risk, King ! To follow thus, a God who loves to twine His jfcemples with the green and curling vine. Baekt Ooenwall. ODE XXVI. TO YBNUS. Vixipaellis nwper idoneus. I LATELY with young virgins did comply. And was in Oupid's camp renowned high ; Now my engins (wars at end) And lute I'll on this wall suspend, Bord'ring on sea-born Venus's left hand Here, here let my enlightening tapour stand, With my leavers and my bow. That barr'd up doors can open throw. Thou who dost o'er blest Cyprus Isle, preside, And Memphis where no Thracian snow can bidd, Queen ! with far-fetched stroke Once haughty Chloe's ire revoke. Alexaiideb Bbome. ODES. BOOK III. 107 ODE XXVII. • TO GALATEA. Impios ^a/rrce reoinentis omen. LET ill presages guide the ill, A screeching owle, or from a hill A she- wolf mad upon the flocks Or pregnant fox. And a snake shaft-like shot athwart Their horses way to make them start, Their journey stop. What place is here For provident fear ? Before the tempest-bidding fowl Descend into the standing pool, My prayre shall from the orient steer The kings-fisher. Be blest, wherever thou wouldst be, And Galatea think of me ; No ominous pye thy steps revoakes, Ko raven croakes. Yet pale Orion sad descends : I know too well what ifc portends When black I see the Adriatick, Or white th' lapick. Let our foes wives, and all they love The rising kid's blind anger prove. And the vext ocean when it roares Lashing the shores. 108 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Europa so, trusting her soft Side to the 'ticing Bull, skreekt oft, , The rooks and monsters to behold. Though she was bold. She that late pickt sweet flowers in medes. And wove meet garlands for nymph's heads, In a clear night could nothing spy But sea and sky. In populous Crete arriv'd soon after, O sire (quoth she) left by thy daughter, And duty in my feeble breast By love opprest. Whence, whether rapt ? one death's too small To expiate a virgin's fall. Do I (awake) true crimes lament, Or (innocent) Doth some false dream put me in pain ? Was't better through the horrid main To rove, far off : or with my Father Fresh flowers to gather ? Had I that naughty bull now here. How with my naUes I could him teare, And break the horns about that pate, So lov'd of late ! Shameless I left my sire's aboads : Shameless I pawse on death : ye Gods, (If any hear) show me the way Where lions stray, Ere my fair skin grow tann'd and loose, And of the tender prey the juice Bun out ; whilst I am plump I would Be tigers' food. ODES. BOOK III. 109 Die base Enropa (whispers me My sire) behold yon beck'ning tree ! The zone from thy chaste waste nnknit To thy neck fit. Or if sharpe rocks delight for speed, This hanging cliff will do the deed : Unless (being come of royal kin) Th'adst rather spin, And be a barb'rons mistress' thrall. Her husband's trull. Venus heard all And Cupid falsely laughing now With unbent bow : At length she said, this rage forbear ; That naughty bull thou shalt have here : Prepare thyself 'gainst he returns To break his horns. Jove is thy bull. These fountains dry ; Learn to use greatness moderately. Thy thirds o' th' world shall called be Europe from thee. Sir R. Fanshawb. ODE xxvni. TO LTDE. Festo quid potius die. WHAT doe we else on Neptune's feast ? Be therefore (Lyde) ready prest To broach Csecubian wines, enclos'd ; And let strong wisedom be oppos'd. Thou seest 'tis mid time of the day, And yet, as if swift time did stay, no TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. A butt, thou spar'st, was cellar stall'd, When Bibulus was consul call'd. With mutuall songs, we'll Neptune please. And the greene-hayr'd, Nereides, On crooked lyre, sing thou with art, Latona, and swift Cynthia's dart : Whilst our last straine, her praise unfolds, Who Cnidos, and bright Cyclads holds : And Paphos with payr'd swans doth view ; Tet (Night !) we'll pay thee verses due. Sib Thomas Hawkins. ODE xxrx. TO MAECENAS. Tyrrhena regwm progenies, iibi. M^CENAS, — sprungfromTuscankings, — for thee, Milde wine in vessels never toucht, I keepe ; Here roses, and sweete odours be, Whose dew thy haire shall steepe ; O stay not, let moyst Tibur be disdain'd, And ^suIsb's declining fields, and hills Where once Telegonus remain'd. Whose hand his father kills ; Forsake that height where lothsome plenty cloyes, And towres, which to the lofty clouds aspire ; The smoke of Rome, her wealth and noyse Thou wilt not here admire. In pleasing change the rich man takes delight, And frugal meales in homely seates allowes. Where hangings want; and purple bright He cleares his carefuU browes. ODES. BOOK III. Ill Now Cepbeus plainelj shewes his hidden fire, The Dog-star now his furious heate displayes, The Lion spreads his raging ire, The sun brings parching dayes. The Shepherd now his sickly flock restores. With shades, and rivers, and the thickets finds Of rough Silvanus ; silent shores Are free from playing winds. To keepe the State in order is the care, SoUicitous for Rome, thou fear'st the warres, Whicl^barb'rous Eastern troops prepare, And Tnnais us'd to jarres. The wise Creator from our knowledge hides The end of future times in darksome night ; False thoughts of mortals he derides. When them vaine toyes afiright. With mindfull temper present houres compose. The rest are like a river, which with ease. Sometimes within his channell flowes, Into Etrurian seas. Oft stones, trees, flocks and houses it devoures, With echoes from the hills, and neighb'ring woods. When some fierce deluge, rais'd by showres, Turnes quiet brookes to floods. He, master of himselfe, in mirth may live. Who saith, I rest well pleas'd with former dayes ; Let God from heaven to-morrow give Blaeke clouds, or sunny rayes. No force can make that voide, which once is past, Those things are never alter'd or undone. Which from the instant rolling fast, With flying moments run. 112 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Proud Portune joyfall sad affaires to finde, Insulting in her sport, delights to change Uncertaine honours ; quickly kinde And straight againe as strange. I prayse her stay, but if she stirre her wings, Her gifts I leave, and to myself retire, Wrapt in my yertue : honest things In want no dowre require. When Lybian stormes, the mast in pieces shake, I never God with pray'rs and vowes implore. Lest precious waves addition make* To greedy Neptune's store. Then I contented, with a little bote. Am through ^gean waves, by winds convay'd. Where Pollux makes me safely flote, And Castor's friendly aide. SiE John Beaumont.' THE SAME {paraphrasedy DESCENDED of an ancient line, That long the Tuscan sceptre sway'd. Make haste to meet the generous wine. Whose piercing is for thee delay'd : The rosy wreath is made ; And artful hands prepare The fragrant Syrian oil, that shall perfume thy hair. When the wine sparkles from afar. And the well-natur'd friend cries, come away ! Make haste, and leave thy business, and thy care, No mortal interest can be worth thy stay. ' Brother to Francis Beaumont, the dramatist. = Inscribed to the Eight Honorable Lawrence, Earl of Rochester. ODES. BOOK III. 113 Leave for awhile, thy costly country seat ! And to be great indeed, forget The nauseous pleasures of the great. Make haste and come ! Come and forsake thy cloying store ! Thy turret that surveys from high", The smoke, and wealth, and noise of Rome, And all the busy pageantry, That wise men scorn, and fools adore. Come give thy soul a loose, and taste the pleasures of the poor ! Sometimes 'tis grateful for the rich to try A short vicissitude, and fit of poverty : A savoury dish, a homely treat Where all is plain, where all is neat, Without the stately spacious room. The Persian carpet, or the Tyrian loom, Clear up the cloudy foreheads of the great. The sun is in the Lion mounted high. The Syrian star barks from afar. And, with his sultry breath, infects the sky ; The ground below is parch'd, the heavens above us fry ; The shepherd drives his fainting flock Beneath the covert of a rock. And seeks refreshing rivulets nigh : The sylvan s to their shades retire. Those very shades and streams, new shades and streams require, And want a cooling breeze of wind to fan the raging fire. Thou, what befits the new Lord Mayor, And what the City factions dare. And what the Gfallic arms will do, And what the quiver-bearing foe, Art anxiously inquisitive to know : I 114 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. But God has wisely hid, from human sight, The dark decrees of future fate, And sown their seeds in depths of night. He laughs at all the giddy turns of State, Where mortals search too soon, and fear too late. Enjoy the present smiling hour. And put it out of Fortune's power ; The tide of business, like the running stream, Is sometimes high and sometimes low, A quiet ebb, or a tempestuous flow, And always in extreme. Now with a noiseless gentle course, It keeps within the middle bed ; Anon it lifts aloft its head, And bears down all before it, with impetuous force : And trunks of trees come rolling down. Sheep and their folds together drown ; Both house and homestead into seas are borne. And rocks are from their old foundations torn. And woods, made thin with winds, their soatter'd honours mourn. Happy the man, and happy he alone. He, who can call to-day his own : He who, secure within, can say To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived to-day ! Be fair or foul, or rain or shine. The joys I have possess'd, in spite of fate, are mine. Not Heaven itself, upon the past has power. And what has been, has been, and I have had my hour. Fortune that, with malicious joy. Does man, her slave, oppress. Proud of her office to destroy. Is seldom pleased to bless ; ODES. BOOK III. 115 Still various, and inconstant still, But with an inclination to be ill, Promotes, degrades, delights in strife. And makes a lottery of life. I can enjoy her while she is kind ; But when she dances in the wind, And shakes her wings, and will not stay, I puff the prostitute away : The little or the much she gave is quietly resign'd. Content with poverty my soul I arm. And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm. What is't to me, Who never sail in her unfaithful sea, If storms arise, and clouds grow black ; If the mast split, and threaten wreck ? Then let the greedy merchant fear For his ill-gotten gain, And pray to gods, th&,t will not hear, While the debating winds- and billows bear His wealth unto the main. For me, secure from Fortune's blows. Secure of what I cannot lose. In my small pinnace, I can sail. Contemning' all the blustering roar ; And, running with a merry gale. With friendly stars my safety seek, Within some little winding creek. And see the storm ashore. Detden. 116 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE, ODE XXX. TO MELPOMENE. Eaiegi morvwmenivmh osre peremnms. A WORK outlasting brass, and higher Than regal pyramid's proud spire, I have absolv'd. Which storming windes, The sea that turrets undermines ; Tract of innumerable daies. Nor the rout of time can raze. Totally I shall not die. And much of me the grave shall flie. Posterity my name shall boast. When Rome herself in Rome iia lost. Where like a king loud Aufid reigns Where Daunus (poor in stream) complains To neighbouring clowns : I shall be said The man, that from an humble head T'a torrent swoln did first inspire A Roman soul in Grecian lyre. I labour with deserved praise ; Crown, crown me (willing Muse !) with baies. Sib R, Fanshawe, ODES. BOOK ir. 117 BOOK IV. ODE I. TO VENUS. Intermissa, Venus, diu. VENUS, again thou mov'st a war, Long intermitted, pray th.ee, pray thee spare ! I am not such, as in the reign Of the good Cynara I was : refrain Sour mother of sweet loves ! forbear To bend a man, now at his fiftieth year Too stubborn for commands so slack : Go where youth's soft entreaties call thee back ! More timely, hie thee to the house, With thy bright swans, of Paulus Maximus : There jest and feast, make him thine host, If a fit liver thou dost seek to toast ! For he's both noble, lovely, young, And for the troubled client, files his tongue : Child of a hundred arts, and far Will he display the ensigns of thy war. And when he, smiling, finds his grace With thee 'bove all his rival's gifts, take place, He'll thee a marble statue make, Beneath a sweet- wood roof, near Alba lake. There shall thy dainty nostril take In many a gum, and for thy soft ear's sake, Shall verse be set to harp and lute. And Phrygian hautboy, not without the flute. 118 TRANSI/ATIONS OF HORACE. There twice a day, in sacred lays, The youths and tender maids shall sing thy praise : And, in the Salian manner, meet Thrice 'bout thy altar, with their ivory feet. Me now, nor wench, nor wanton boy, Delights, nor crednlons hope of mutnal joy ; Nor care I now healths to propound. Or with fresh flowers to girt my temples round. But why, oh why, my Ligurine, Plow my thin tears down these pale cheeks of mine ? Or why my well-graced words among. With an uncomely silence, fails my tongue ? Hard-hearted, I dream every night, I hold thee fast ! but fled hence, with the light. Whether in Mars his field thou be. Or Tiber's winding streams, I follow thee. Ben Jonson. ODE II. TO lULUS ANTONIUS (^pma^hrase). Pindatwm quisquis studet cenmlari. PINDAR is imitable by none ; The phcenix Pindar is a vast species alone, Who'ere but Daedalus with waxen wings could fly And neither sink too low, nor soar too high ? What could he who follow'd claim. But of vain boldness the unhappy fame. And by his fall a sea to name ? Pindar's unnavigable song Like a swol'n flood from some steep mountain pours along. The ocean meets with such a voice, Prom his enlarged mouth, as drowns the ocean's noise. ODJES. BOOK IV. 119 So Pindar does new words and figures roul Down his impetuons dithyrambiqne tide, Which in no channel deigns t' abide, Which neither banks nor dikes contronl. Whether th' immortal Gods he sings. In a no less immortal strain. Or the great acts of God-descended kings. Who in his numbers still survive and reign, Bach rich embroidered line, Which their triumphant brows around. By his sacred hand is bound. Does all their starry diadems outshine. Whether at Pisa's race he please To carve in polisht verse the conquerors images. Whether the swift, the skilful, or the strong, Be crowned in his nimble, artful, vigorous song : Whether some brave young man's untimely fate. In words worth dying for, he celebrate, Such mournful and such pleasing words, As joy to his mother's and his mistress' grief affords : He bids him live and grow in fame. Among the stars he sticks his name. The grave can but the dross of him devour, So small is death's, so great the poet's power. Lo, how th' obsequious wind, and swelling ayr The Theban swan does upwards bear Into the walks of clouds, where he does play. And with extended wings opens his liquid way, Whilst, alas, mjr timorous Muse Unambitious tracks pursues ; Does with weak unballast wings, About the mossy brooks and springs ; About the trees new blossom'd heads ; About the gardens painted beds. 120 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. About the fields and flow'ry meads, And all inferior beauteous things, Like the laborious bee, For little drops of honey flee. And there with humble sweets contents her Industrie. OOWLET. ODE III TO MELPOMENE. Quern iu Melpomene semel, HE on whose birth the lyric Queen Of numbers smil'd, shall never grace The Isthmian gauntlet, or be seen First in the fam'd Olympic race. He shall not, after toils of war, And humbling haughty monarchs' pride, With laurell'd brows, conspicuous far. To Jove's Tarpeian Temple ride. But him, the streams that warbling flow, Rich Tibur's fertile meads along. And shady groves, his haunts, shall know The master of th' -Slolian song. The sons of Rome, majestic Rome ! Have plac'd me in the poets' choir, And envy now, or dead or dumb, Forbears to blame what they admire. Goddess of the sweet-sounding lute 1 Which thy harmonious touch .obeys ; Who can'st the finny race, though mute, To cygnets' dying accents raise ; ODES. BOOK IV. 121 Thy gift it is, that all, with ease, Me, prince of Roman lyrics, own ; That while I live, my numbers please. If pleasing be thy gift alone. Bishop Atterbdet.' ODE IV. THE PRAISES OP DRTJSUS. Qual&m ministrwm fuhninis ditem. AS the wing'd minister of thund'ring Jove, To whom he gave his dreadful bolts to bear, Faithful assistant of his master's love, King of the wand'ring nations of the air, When balmy breezes fann'd the vernal sky, On doubtful pinions, left his parent nest, In slight essays his growing force to try. While inborn courage fired his generous breast ; Then, darting with impetuous fury down. The flocks he slaughter'd, an unpractised foe ; Now his ripe valour, to perfection grown. The scaly snake and crested dragon know ; Or as a lion's youthful progeny, Wean'd from his savage dam, and milky food, The gazing kid beholds with fearful eye, Doom'd first to stain his tender fangs in blood : Such Drusus, young in arms, his foes beheld. The Alpine Rhaeti, long unmatoh'd in fight : So were their hearts, with abject terror quell' d. So sunk their haughty spirit at the sight. ' See note to Ode ix, , Book iii. 122 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Tamed by a boy, the fierce barbarians find How guardian pmdence guides the youthful flame ; And how great Csesar's fond paternal mind Each generous Nero forms to early fame : A valiant son springs from a valiant sire : Their race, by mettle, sprightly coursers prove ; Nor can the warlike eagle's active fire Degenerate, to form the timorous dove. But education can the genius raise, And wise instructions native virtue aid ; Nobility, without them, is disgrace, And honour is, by vice, to shame betray'd. Let red Metaurus, stain'd with Punic blood, Let mighty Asdrubal, subdued, confess How much of empire, and of fame is owed By thee, Rome, to the Neronian race. Of this be witness that auspicious day, Which after a long, black, tempestuous night. First smiled on Latium, with a milder ray, And oheer'd our drooping hearts with dawning light. Since the dire African, with wasteful ire. Rode o'er the ravaged towns of Italy ; As through the pine trees flies the raging fire, Or Eurus o'er the vex'd Sicilian sea. From this bright era, from this prosperous field. The Roman glory dates her rising power ; From hence 'twas given, her conquering sword to wield. Raise her fallen gods, and ruin'd shrines restore. Thus Hannibal at length despairing spoke : " Like stags, to ravenous wolves an easy prey, Our feeble arms a valiant foe provoke, Whom to elude and 'scape were victory : ODES. BOOK IV, 123 A dauntless nation, that from Trojan fires, Hostile, Ansonia ! to thy destined shore, Her gods, her infant sons, and aged sires, Through angry seas, and adverse tempests, bore : As on high Algidns the sturdy oak, Whose spreading boughs the axe's sharpness feel, Improves by loss, and, thriving with the stroke. Draws health and vigour from the wounding steel. Not Hydra, sprouting from her mangled head, So tired the baffled force of Hercules ; Nor Thebes, nor Colchis, such a monster bred. Pregnant of ills and famed for prodigies. Plunge her in ocean, like the morning sun. Brighter she rises from the depths below : To earth, with unavailing ruin, thrown. Recruits her strength, and foils the wond'ring foe. No more of victory the joyful fame Shall from my camp to haughty Carthage fly ; Lost, lost, are all the glories of her name ! With Asdrubal her hopes and fortune die ! " What shall the Claudian valour not perform Which power divine guards with propitious care ; Which wisdom steers, through all the dangerous storm. Through all the rocks, and shoals of doubtful war. LoED Ltttleton.' ' George, Lord Lyttleton, 1709-1773. 124 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. ODE VI. TO APOLLO. Tikie, qiiem proles Kiobea magnce, OTHOU, who Niobe's proud tongue Didst visit on her Taunted young ; Whose vengeance lustful Tityus strack, And him that Ilium all but took — Achilles, sea bom Thetis' son — Second in fight to thee alone : Though, lord of the tremendous spear, He shook the Dardan towers with fear j Like pine by biting axe cut down, Or cypress by fierce blasts o'erthrown, Low in Troy's dust (vast fall !) his head Beneath thy conquering arm was laid. He would not, caged in Pallas' horse. Base counterfeit, with midnight force Have burst on unsuspecting Troy, And Priam's halls of fatal joy : But gaunt and grim in open day Seized, crush'd, alas ! his tender prey, And doom'd in Grecian flames to die The embryo buds of infancy ; Had not dread Jove, o'ercome by thee And Venus, issued his decree That happier, by ^neas plann'd. Elsewhere another Troy should stand. Thou who did teach Thalia's lyre. Bright God; its strains of living fire, Who lavest in Xanthus' stream thy hair, O make the Daunian muse thy care ! ODES. BOOK ir. 125 The glow, the art, the name of bard On me Apollo has conferr'd. Ye high-born virgins, fair and young, Te boys of noblest lineage sprung (Object of Dian's fond delight. Whose bow arrests the lynx's flight,) Careful the Lesbian measure keep, As o'er the chords my fingers sweep : And solemn sing Latona's son Night's torch ; who gives the plenteous year, And wheels the months in prone career. Married thou'lt say : " That pious sound," When time has rolled the century round, " I- chaunted on high festal day, And Horace taught the tuneful lay.'' Weangham. ODE vn, TO TOEQUATUS. Diffugere mves ; redevmt jam, grmnina campis. All worldly pleotswres fade. THE winter with his griesly stormes ne lenger dare abyde. The plesante grasse, with lusty greene, the earth hath newly dide. The trees have leaves, ye bowes don spred, new changed is ye yere. The water brokes are cleane sonke down, the pleasant bankes appere. The spring is come, the goodly nimphes now daunce in every place, Thus hath the yere mOst pleasantly of late ychangde his face. 126, TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Hope for no immortalitie, for welth will weare away, As we may learne by every yere, yea houres of every day. For ZepharuB doth mollifye the colde and blustering windes : The Somer's drought doth take away ye Spryng out of our minds. And yet the: Somer cannot last, but once must step asyde. Then > Autumn thinkes to kepe hys place, but Autumn cannot bide. For when he hath brought forth his fruits and stnft ye. barns with com. The Winter eates and empties all, and thus is Autumn worne : Then hory frostes possesse the place, then tempestes work much harm. Then rage of stormes done make al colde which Somer made so warm. Wherfore let no man put his trust in that, that will decay, For slipper welth will not continue, plesure will weare away. For when that we have lost our lyfe, and lye under a stone. What are we then, we are but earth, then is our pleasure gone. No man can tell what God Almight of every wight doth cast, No man can say to-day I live, till morne my lyfe shall last. For when thou shalt before the judge stand to receive thy dome, What sentence Minos doth pronounce, that must of thee become. ODES. BOOK ir. 127 Then shall not noble stock and bind redeme thee from his handes, Nor surged talke with eloquence shall loose thee from his bandes. Nor yet thy life uprightly led, can help thee out of hell, For who descendeth downe so depe, must there abyde and dwell. Diana could not thence deliver chaste Hypolitus, Nor Theseus could not call to life his frende Perithous. From TMeVs Miscellany, "Uncertain Authors." THE SAME. THE snow, dissolved, no more is seen. The fields and woods, behold, are green ; The changing year renews the plain ; The rivers know their banks again ; The sprightly nymph and naked grace The mazy dance together trace ; The changing year's successive plan Proclaims mortality to man ; Rough Winter's, blasts to Spring give way : Spring yields to Summer's sovereign ray ; Then Summer sinks in Autumn's reign ; And Winter chills the world again. Her losses soon the Moon supplies ; But wretched man when once he lies Where Priam and his sons are laid, Is nought but ashes and a shade. Who knows if Jove who counts our score Will rouse us in a morning more ? What with your friend you nobly share At least you rescue from your heir. 128 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Not you, Torqnatus, boast of Borne, When Minos once has fixed your doom, Or eloquence, or splendid birth. Or virtue, shall replace on earth. Hippolytus, unjustly slain, Diana calls to life in vain ; Nor can the might of Theseus rend The chains of hell that hold his friend. De. Johnson. ODE vni.» TO MARTIUS CENSORINFS. I)ona/rem pateras grataque commod/us, MY friends I would accommodate With goblets, Grecian tripods, plate Of Oorinth brass ; and Censorine, The worst of these should not be thine ; That is to say, if I were rich In those same antique pieces which Parrhasius and Scopas fame ; He skill'd to paint, in stone to frame This, now a God, a mortal now. But I have not the means ; nor thou A mind, or purse, that wants such knacks. Verse thou dost love. Thou shalt not lack For verse. And hear me what 'tis worth. Not in 'scrib'd marbles planted forth To publick view, which give new breath To great and good men after death ; > Akenside pursues the argument of this ode in his " Ode on the Use of Poetry." ODES. BOOK IV. 129 Not the swift flight of Hannibal, And his threats turn'd to his own wall ; Not perjur'd Carthage wrapt in flame, By which young Scipio brought a name From conquer'd ASriok ; speak his praise So loud, as the Pierian layes. Nor, were books sileno't couldst thou gain The guerdon of thy vertuous pain. What had become of Ilia's child She bare to Mars, had darkness veil'd The merits of our Romulus ? From Stygian waters ^acns, Vertue and fav'ring verse assoiles. And consecrates to the blest isles. A man that hath desery'd t' have praise, The Muse embalms. She keeps Heav'ns keyes. Thus Hercules (his labours past) With Jupiter takes wisht repast : The sons of Leda stars are made, And give the sinking sea-man aid ; Good Bacchus, crowned with vine leaves. His drooping votaries relieves. Sir R. Fanshawe. ODE IX. TO LOLLIUS {paraphrased). Ne forte credos interitura, quae. VERSES immortal (as my bays) I sing, When suited to my trembling string : When by strange art both voice and lyre agree To make one pleasant harmony. 130 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. All poets are by their blind captain led, (For none e'er had the sacrilegioas pride To tear the well-placed laurel from his aged head.) Yet Pindar's rolling dithyrambic tide Hath still this praise, that none presume to fly Like him, but flag too low, or soar too high. Still does Stesichorus his tongue Sing sweeter than the bird which on it hung. Anacreon ne'er too old can grow, Love from every verse does flow : Still Sappho's strings do seem to move. Instructing all her sex to love. Golden rings of flowing hair More than Helen did ensnare ; Others a prince's grandeur did admire, And wond'ring melted to desire. Not only skilful Teucer knew To direct arrows from the bending yew. Troy more than once did fall, Though hireling Gods rebuilt its nodding wall. Was StheneluB the only valiant he, A subject fit for lasting poetry ? Was Hector that prodigious man alone. Who, to save others lives, expos'd his own ? Was only he so brave to dare his fate. And be the pillar of a tott'ring state ? No, others buried in oblivion lie. As silent as their grave, Because no charitable poet gave The well-deserved immortality. Virtue with sloth, and cowards with the brave, Are levell'd in the impartial grave. If they no poefc have. But I will lay raj music by And bid the mournful strings in silence lie : ODES. BOOK IV. 131 Unless my songs begin and end witli yon, To whom my strings, to whom my songs are due. No pride does with your rising hononrs grow, Yon meekly look on suppliant crowds below. Should Fortune change your happy state, Tou could admire, yet envy not, the great. Tour equal hand holds an unbiass'd scale. Where no rich vices, gilded baits, prevail. Tou with a generous honesty despise What all the meaner world so dearly prize, Nor does your virtue disappear With the small circle of one short-lived year. Others, like comets, visit and away ; Tour lustre, great as theirs, finds no decay, But with the constant sun makes an eternal day. We barbarously call those bless'd Who are of largest tenements possess'd. Whilst swelling ooifers break their owners rest. More truly happy those, who can Govern the little empire, man : Bridle their passions and direct their will Through all the glitt'ring paths of charming ill ; Who spend their treasure freely, as 'twas given By the large bounty of indulgent Heaven ; Who in a fix'd unalterable state. Smile at the doubtful tide of Fate, And scorn alike her friendship and her hate. Who poison less than falsehood fear. Loth to purchase life so dear ; But kindly for their friend embrace cold death, And seal their country's love with their departing breath. Geoege 'Stepney.^ ' " In has original poems now and then a happv.lme may perhaps be found, and now and then a short composition ^fy^^m pleasure." — Dr. Johnson, V 132 TRANSLATIONS 01' HORACE. THE SAME. WHILE with tlie Grecian bard I vie. And raptured tune the social string, Think not the song shall ever die, Which, with no ■vulgar art, I sing. Though born where Anfid rolls his sounding stream In lands far distant from poetic fame. What though the Muse her Homer thrones High above all th' immortal choir, Nor Pindar's rapture she disowns, Nor hides the plaintive Ceean lyre ? Alcseus strikes the tyrant's soul with dread, Nor yet is grave Stesichorus unread. Whatever old Anacreon sung, (However tender was his lay) In spite of time is ever young. Nor Sappho's amorous flames decay ; Her living songs preserve their charming art. Her love still breathes the passions of her heart. Helen was not the only fair By an unhappy passion fired, Who, the lewd ringlets of the hair Of an adulterous beau admired ; Court arts, gold lace, and equipage have charms To tempt weak woman to a stranger's arms. Nor, first, from Teucer's vengeful bow The feather'd death unerring flew, Nor was the Greek the single foe Whose rage ill-fated Ilion knew : Greece had with heroes fiU'd th' embattled plain Worthy the Muse in her sublimest strain. ODES. BOOK ir. 133 Nor Hector first transported heard, With fierce delight, the war's alarms, Nor brave Deiphobus appeared Amid the tented field in arms, With glorions ardour prodigal of life, To guard a darling son, and faithful wife. Before great Agamemnon reign'd, Reign'd kings as great as he, and brave, Whose huge ambition's now oontain'd In the small compass of a grave ; In endless night they sleep, unwept, unknown, No bard had they to make all time their own.^ In earth, if it forgotten lies. What is the valour of the brave ? What difference, when the coward dic". And sinks in silence to his grave ? Nor, LoUius, will I not thy praise proclaim, But from oblivion vindicate thy fame. Nor shall its livid power conceal Thy toils — ^how glorious to the state ! How constant to the public weal Through all the doubtful turns of fate ! Thy steady soul, by long experience found Erect, alike when fortune smiled, or frown'd. Villains, in public rapine bold, Lollius, the just avenger, dread. Who never by the charms of gold. Shining seducer ! was misled ; ' " Many by valour have deserved renown Ere Agamemnon, yet lie all oppressed Under long night, unwept for and unknown : For with no sacred poet were they blest." SiE Walter Baleigh. 134 ■ TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Beyond thy year such virtue shall extend, And death alone thy consulate shall end. Perpetual magistrate is he Who keeps strict justice full in sight : With scorn rejects th' offender's fee, Nor weighs convenience against right ; Who bids the crowd at awful distance gaze. And virtue's arms victoriously displays. Not he, of wealth immense possess'd. Tasteless, who piles his massy gold, Among the number of the bless'd Should have his glorious name enroU'd : He better claims the glorious name who knows. With wisdom, to enjoy what Heaven bestows : Who knows the wrongs of want to bear, Even in its lowest, last extreme ; Tet can with conscious virtue fear Far worse than death, a deed of shame : Undaunted, for his country or his friend To sacrifice his life — Oh glorious end ! Db. Feancis. ODE X. TO LIGURINE. crvideKs adhuc, et Veneris rmmerilms potens. CRUEL and fair ! when this soft down (Thy youth's bloom) shall to bristles grow ; And these fair curls thy shoulders crown, Shall shed or oover'd be with snow ; ODES. BOOK ir. 135 When those bright roses that adorn Thy cheeks shall wither quite away, And in the glass (now made time's scorn) Thou shalt thy changed face survey : Then, ah, then ! (sighing) thou'lt deplore Thy ill-spent youth ; and wish, in vain, Why had I not those thoughts before ? Or come not my first looks again. SiE E. Shbebubne.i THE SAME. "T~^IS true (proud boy !) thy beauty may presume, ±_ Thank Venus for 't, but when thy cheekes shall plume, When manly downe shall shade thy childish pride. And when thy locks (which dangle on each side Of thy white shoulders) shall no more remain ; When thy vermilion cheeks (which do disdain The glorious colour of the purple rose) Begin to fade, and Ligurinus lose His lovely face, being rudely stuck with haires, (Hard-hearted boy !) then wilt thou say with teares, (When, looking for thy fair self in a glass, Thou find'st another there) Ah me ! alas ! What do I now perceive ? Why had not I These thoughts when I was lovely smooth ? or why To these my thoughts which I now entertaine Doe not my cheeks grow slik and young again ? SiE John Mbnnis. From "Mwscinww Belicice: Wit restored," 1658. ' Translator of the " Medea (1648) and Troades ( 1679) of Seneca," and author of many pther original poems and translations. 136 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. ODE XI. TO PHILLIS. 'Est mihi nmm/m su^ercmUs anmmi. SWEET PMHs, leave thy quiet home, For lo ! the ides of April come ! Then hasten to my bower ; A cask of rich Albanian wine, In nine years' mellowness is mine, To glad the festal hour. My garden herbs, in fragrance warm. Oar various chaplefcs wait to form ; My tender ivies grow, That, twining in thy amber hair, Add jocund spirit to thine air. And whiteness to thy brow. My walls with silver vessels shine ; Chaste vervain decks the modest shrine, That longs with crimson stains To see its foliage sprinkled o'er. When the devoted lamb shall pour The treasure of his veins. The household girls, and menial boy. From room to room assiduous fly. And busy hands extend ; Our numerous fires are quivering bright And, rolling from their pointed height. The dusky wreaths ascend. Convivial rites, in mystic state, Thou, lovely nymph, shall celebrate, And give~the day to mirth ODES. BOOK IV. 137 That this loTe-chosen month divides ; Since honor'd rose its blooming ides By dear Maecenas' birth. Oh ! not to me, my natal star So sacred seems ; — the Nymph prepare, To grace its smiling dawn ! A wealthier maid, in pleasing chains Illustrious Telephus detains. From humble thee withdrawn. When pride would daring hopes create, Of Phaeton recall the fate, Consum'd in his career ! Let rash Bellerophon, who tried The fiery Pegasus to guide. Awake thy prudent fear ! Thus warn'd, the better interest know, Aiid cease those charming eyes to throw On youths of high degree ! Come then, of all my loves the last, Por, every other passion past, I only burn for thee ! Come, and with tuneful voice rehearse The measures of thy poet's verse And charm the list'ning throng ! Believe me, fairest, all our cares Will soften at the melting airs That deck the lyric song. Anna Seward.^ ' Poetess, died 1 809. Her works were published with a biogra- phical sketch by Sir Walter Scottin 1810. 138 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. ODE XII. TO VIRGIL. Jam veris oomites, qum maire temperant. COMPANIONS of the Spring, that lull the sea, Now the soft airs of Thrace the sails impel : Now nor meads are frozen, nor rivers swell, Loud with the snows of winter, down the lea. Her nest she puts, that Itys weeping cries, The hapless bird, of the Cecropian name The sad reproach for ever, that ill she came T' avenge barbarian king's impieties. Laid on the tender grass, at listless ease. The shepherds of fat flocks their music rear. And charm the God to whom the herd is dear. Whom the dark hills of his Arcadia please. The season hath brought thirst : but if you think To quaflT the generous wine at Gales press'd, O Virgil, by the noble youth caress'd. Then purchase with sweet nard the pleasing drink. Of nard a little onyx shall prepare, A cask, which in Sulpician barns is laid. Rich to produce new hope, and full of aid To wash away the bitterness of care. These joys if you delight in, quickly come With merchandize of price : I have no thought To steep you in my laughing cups for nought. As the rich man in his abundant home. ODES. BOOK IV. 139 But loving dreams of wealth, that poor deceit ; Mindful of the dark fires, whilst yet yon may, Mix a short folly with your studious day : To trifle as the fool in place is sweet. Lord Thuelow.' ODE XIII. TO LTOB. AvMvere, Lyae, Bi mea vota, Bi. MY prayers are heard, Lyce, now They're heard ; years write thee aged, yet thou. Youthful and green in will, Pntt'st in for handsome still, And shameless dost intrude among The sports and feastings of the young. There, thaw'd with wine, thy ragged throat To Cupid shakes some feeble note, To move unwilling fires. And rouse our lodged desires, When he still wakes in Chia's face, Chia, that's fresh, and sings with grace. For he, (choice god) doth in his flight Skip sapless oaks, and will not light Upon thy cheek or brow, Because deep wrinkles now, Gray hairs, and teeth decay'd and worn. Present thee foul, and fit for scorn. ' The Lord Chancellor was author of numerous poems, see article by Thomas Moore in vol. xxxi. of the " Edinburgh Review." 140 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Neither thy Ooan purple's lay, Nor that thy jewel's native day Can make thee backwards live, And those lost years retrieve. Which winged time unto our known And public annals once hath thrown. Whither is now that softness flown ? Whither that blush, that motion gone ? Alas, what now in thee Is left of that she — That she that loves did breathe and deal ? That Horace from himself did steal ?- Thou wert awhile the cried-up face Of taking arts, and catching grace, My Cynara being dead ; But my fair Cynara' s thread Fates broke, intending thine to draw Till thou contest with the aged daw ; That those young lovers once thy prey. Thy zealous eager servants, may Make thee their common sport. And to thy house resort To see a torch that proudly burn'd Now unto colder ashes turn'd. W. Caetweight.' ' Poet and dramatist, died 1643. "My son Cartwright," said Ben Jonson, " writes like a man." ODES. BOOK ir. 141 ODE XV. THE PRAISES OF AUGUSTUS. Phoebus volentem prodia me hqwi. MY Muse by Phebus was rebuk'd of late, For singing warres, and vanqnish'd cities' fate : Like those, who in the Tyrrhen ocean's rage, Doe little sayles advance. (C^sar !) thy age AfFoordeth plenteous fruits unto the fields. And to Jove's Capitol! our ensignes yeelds. From Parthian pillars snatch'd, and after jarres. Hath closed Janus' temple free from warres ; Confusion hath with order rectified. And wand'ring libertie in fetters ty'd ; Hath antique arts recall'd : by wbich 'tis knowne Hesperia's strength sind Latine name hath growne. Im^periall pomp hath spred, and glory wonne, Stretcht from the rising to the setting sunne. While Cffisar is our guardian, civil warre, Nor violence our peacefull rest shall marre. Not anger, which swords sharpeneth, and confounds Cities, unhappy made with mutuall wounds. Not they for thirst, that drinke in Ister deepe, Shall once refuse the Julian lawes to keepe. Not Seres, faithlesse Persians, nor the Getes, Nor those which near to Tanais have their seats. And we on holy eves and holy dayes. Amongst free cups to merry Bacchus prayse : With wife and children, standing in our sight, (First Gods invoking with religious rite) 142 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Will gladly (as onr grandsires did) reliearse, (And tuning Lydian pipe to various verse,) Heroique captaines, Troy, Anchises gone, And brave ^neas, Oytherea's son. SiE Thomas Hawkins. THE EPODES. 143 THE EPODES. EPODE II. Beaiits iUe qui procul negotiis. HOW tiappy in his low degree, How rich, in humble poverty, is he, Who leads a quiet country life ; Discharg'd o£. business, void of strife. And from the griping scrivener free ! Thus, ere the seeds of vice were sown, Liv'd men in better ages born Who plongh'd, with oxen of their own. Their small paternal field of corn. Nor trumpets summon him to war, Nor drums disturb his morning sleep, Nor knows he merchant's gainful care, Nor fears the dangers of the deep. The clamours of contentious law. And court and state he wisely shuns, Nor brib'd with hopes, nor dar'd with awe, To servile salutations runs ; But either to the clasping vine Does the supporting poplar wed, Or with his pruning hook disjoin Unbearing branches from their head, And grafts more happy in their stead ; Or climbing to a hilly steep. He views his buds in vales afar, Or shears his overburden'd sheep, 144 TRANSLATIONS OF SORACE. Or mead for cooling driuk prepares Of virgin honey in the jars, Or, in the now declining year, When beauteous Autumn rears his head, He joys to pull the ripen'd pear, And clust'ring grapes with purple spread. Sometimes beneath an aged oak, Or on the matted grass he lies : No God of Sleep he need invoke ; The stream that o'er the pebbles flies With gentle slum.ber crowns his eyes. The wind, that whistles through the sprays, Maintains the concert of the song ; And hidden birds with native lays, The golden sleep prolong. But when the blast of winter blows, And hoary frost invests the year. Into the naked woods he goes. And seeks the tusky boar to rear, With well-mouth' d hounds and pointed spear. Or spreads his subtle nets from sight, With twinkling glasses, to betray The larks that in the meshes light, Or makes the fearful bear his prey. Amidst his harmless, easy joys, No anxious care invades his health. Nor love his peace of mind destroys. Nor wicked avarice 6f wealth. But, if a chaste and pleasing wife. To ease the business of his life. Divides with him her household care. Such as the Sabine matrons were. Such as the swift Apnlian's bride. Sunburnt and swarthy though she be Will fire for winter nights provide, THE EPODES. 145 And — without noise — will oversee His children and his family ; And order all thiags till he come, Sweaty and overlabour'd home ; If she in pens his flock will fold, And then produce her dairy store With wine to drive away the cold. And unbought dainties for the poor ; Not oysters of the Lucrine lake My sober appetite would wish. If or turbot, or the foreign fish That rolling tempests overtake, And hither waft the costly dish. Not heathponlt, or the rarer bird, Which Phasis or Ionia yields More pleasing morsels would afibrd Than the fat olives of my fields ; Than shards or mallows for the pot, That keep the loosened body sound, Or than the lamb, that falls by lot To the just guardian of my ground. Amidst these feasts of happy swains, The jolly shepherd smiles to see His flock returning from the plains ; The farmer is as pleas'd as he. To view his oxen sweating smoke. Bear on their necks the Ibosen'd yoke : To look upon his menial crew. That sit around his cheerful hearth. And bodies spent in toil renew With wholesome food and country mirth. This Alphius said within himself ; Eesolv'd to leave the wicked town. And live retir'd upon his own. He call'd his money in ; L 146 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. But the preTailing love of pelf Soon split him on the former shelf -^ He put it out again. Detden. EPODE m. TO M^CENAS. Parentis olim si qwis i/nvpia marm. WHOEVER the wretch, whose impions deed Has robb'd his aged sire of breath, May garlick, (curst destructive weed !) More fell than hemlock, be his death. Ah, whence these tortures that arise ? Has then some viper's pois'nous blood, Mist with these herbs, deceiv'd mine eyes ? Or fell Canidia touch'd my food ? Soon as, by Jason's beauty charm'd, Medea felt love's gentle flame, With this obnoxious drug she arm'd Her chief, the fiery bulls to tame ; By presents stain' d, with this she pour'd Swift vengeance on the rival fair, Then, borne by winged dragons, soar'd Triumphant through the realms of air. No vapour e'er so deadly dwelt On parch'd Apulia's sandy plains : Not even the gift Alcides felt Rag'd o'er his limbs with fiercer pains. THE EPODES. 147 Shouldst thou such nauseous food desire, My pleasant friend ! I ask but this, May thy lov'd girl afar retire, Shun thy embrace, and loathe thy kiss. W. BOSCAWEN. EPODE vir. TO THE EOMAN PEOPLE. Quo, guo saelesti rwitis ? cmi cur dexteris. WHERE do ye rush, ye impious trains ? Why gleams afar the late-sheath'd sword ? Is it believ'd that Koman veins Their crimson tides have sparely poured ? Is not our scorn of safety, health, and ease, Shewn by devasted climes, and blood-stain'd seas ? Those scowling brows, those lifted spears. Bend they against the threat'ning towers Proud Carthage emulously rears ? Or Britain's still unconquer'd shores ? That her fierce sons, yet free from hostile sway, May pass in chains along our Sacred Way ? No ! — but that warring Parthia's curse May quickly blast these far-famed walls ; Accomplish'd when, with direful force. By her own strength, the city falls ; When foes no more her might resistless feel, But Roman bosoms bleed by Roman steel. O ! worse than wolves, or lions fierce, Who ne'er, like you, assault their kind ! By what wild frenzy would ye pierce Each other's breast, in fury blind ? — 148 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. Silent, and pale ye stand, with conscious sighs. Tour struck soul louring in your down- cast eyes ! The blood our rising walls that stain'd, Shed by the ruthless fratricide, High Heaven's avenging power ordain'd Should spread the rage of discord wide, Bid kindred blood in dread profusion flow Thro' darken'd years of expiatory woe. Anna Sewaed. EPODE XIII. TO HIS FRIENDS (paraphrased). Sorrida tempestas ocelv/m contraxit, et imbres. BIG with black clouds, the welkin pours A tempest all around ; Aloft loud blust'ring Boreas roars. Rough rolling waves rush on the shores, Reluctant groves resound. Let us, my friends, th' occasion seize Surrounding storms bestow ; Whilst vig'rous nerves brace up our knees, And it becomes us to release From wrinkling cares the brow. Choice wines produce, with locks and bars, Now kept the ninth October ; Leave fruitless fears about the wars. Dull politics and state affairs To wretches that are sober. TRE EPODES. 149 Witli rich perfumes our locks imba'd, Our instruments high strung ; Perplexing cares that would intrude, Let wine's, let music's charms exclude. 'Twas thus sage Ohiron sung : Brave mortal ! Thetis' matchless son, (Grand theme for future story,) Tou to the Trojan plains must on. Where Simois and Scamander run. There purchase endless glory. Yet thence the cruel fates ordain, (And firm in their decree) Tou never must recross the main, Triumphant with your warlike train, No more your country see. But there, whate'er befall, rely On this unchanging truth, " From wine and music sorrows fly." To wine and music then apply. And snatch the joys of youth. " Gentlemmi's Magazine," Oct,, 1754. EPODE XIV. TO M^CBNAS. MoUis inertia cw tomtam (Mffuderit imis. HOW such a fit of lethargy My senses have possesst, As if a dose of opium Had bury'd me in rest J 150 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. With often asking wliat's the cause, Tou weary me yonr friend ; The satyres which I promis'd you, I cannot bring to end. So poor Anacreon, as they say, Bewitch'd by powerful lore, Complain'd him often of his wound. In melancholy grore. The mistress that you court, my friend, 'Tis fit you should adore ; I, like a fool, am Phrygia's slave, Yet know she is a Jd2uii.£- ToM Bbown.^ EPODE XV. TO JSTE^RA. Nox erat, ei coelo fulgebat hma sereno. TWAS in the silent hour of night, The moon dififus'd a silver light. The planets glitt'ring in the skies Were conscious of our mutual joys ; When soft you swore, O faithless you ! " I wiU be ever, ever true." Closer round oaks than ivies twine. Were lock'd thy circling arms in mine : While storms annoy the tender sheep, While winter blasts the ocean sweep. While winds the dancing sunbeams move. So loiig you swore should be your love. ' Tom Brown, " of facetious memory," died 1704. THE EPODES. 151 Perjnr'd Neffira, false as hell ! Tet fair, and ah ! belov'd too well ! Can I endure thyheav'nly charms Should bless a rival's happier arms ? No, sure my spirit is too great Tamely to bear thy base deceit ; Let me then seek a nymph more true. More worthy of my flame than you, Nor think thy charms my breast shall move, Inflam'd with hate, as once with love. Thou, happy man ! whoe'er thou art. The fancy 'd master of her heart. Who can so great a conquest boast, Exulting in the spoils I've lost ; Tho' thou art rich as heart's desire, Tho' sage Minerva thee inspire. In thee tho' all perfections join, A matchless form, a soul divine ; Tet shalt thou mourn to find, that she As faithless proves as once to me ; Then will I, laughing in my turn, Give hate for hate, and scorn for scorn. " GenUeman's Magcmne," Oct., 1753. THE SAME. V I ""WAS night — the moon upon her sapphire throne, J. High o'er the waning stars serenely shone. When thou, false nymph, determin'd to profane Them, and each power that rules the earth, and main. As thy soft snowy arms about me twin'd. Close as robnd oaks the clasping ivies wind, Swore, while the gaunt wolf shall infest the lea, And red Orion vex the wintry sea, 152 TRANSLATIONS OF HORACE. While gales shall fan Apollo's floating lock's, That shed theii? golden light o'er hills and rocks, So long thy breast should burn with purest fires. With mutual hopes, and with unehang'd desires, Perjur'd Nesera ! thou shalt one day prove The worth, the vengeance of my slighted love ; For O ! if manhood steels, if honour warms, Horace shall fly, shall scorn thy faithless charms ; Seek some bright maid, whose soul for him shall glow, Nor art, nor pride, nor wandering wishes know. Then shouldst thou languish, sigh, and weep once more, And with new vows his injur'd heart implore, Nor sighs, nor vows, nor tears shall he regard, Cold as the snow and as the marble hard. And thou, triumphant youth, so gay, so vain, Prond of my fate, exulting in my pain, Tho' on thy hUls the plenteous herd should feed, And rich Pactolus roll along thy mead ; For thee tho' science ope the varied store, And beauty on thy form its graces pour. Ere long shalt thou, while wrongs like these degrade, Droop with my woes, and with my rage upbraid; See on a rival's brow thy garlands worn, And, with her falsehood, bear my jocund scorn. Anna Sewaed. PART II. IMITATIONS AND PARODIES. IMITATIONS AND PARODIES. AN HORATIAIir ODE UPON CROMWELL'S EETURN FROM IRELAND. T HE forward youth that -would appeare Must now forsake his Muses deare, Nor in the shadows sing His numbers languishing : 'Tis time to leave the hooks in dust And oyle th' unused armours rust ; Removing from the wall The corselett of the hall. So restlesse Cromwell could not cease In the inglorious arts of peace, But through adventurous warre Urged his active starre ; And, like the three-forked lightning first Breaking the clouds where it was nurst, Did thorough his own side His fiery way divide. (For 'tis all one to courage high The emulous, or enemy : And with such, to enclose Is more than to oppose :) 156 IMITATIONS OF HORACE. Then burning tlirotigli the aire he went And palaces and temples rent ; And Caesar's head at last Did through his laurels blast. 'Tis madness to resist or blame The face of angry heaven's flame ; And if we would speak true Much to the man is due, Wio, from his private gardens, where He lived reserved and austere . (As if his highest plott To plant the bergamott :) Could by industrious valour clime To ruin the great work of time. And cast the kingdoms old Into another mold ; Though Justice against Fate complaine, And plead the antient rights in vaine. But those do hold or breake, As men are strong or weake ; Nature, that hateth emptinesse, Allows of penetration lesse And therefore must make roome Where greater spirits come. What field of all the Civil Warre Where his were not the deepest scarre ? And Hampton shows what part He had of wiser art, Where, twining subtile fears with hope, He wove a net of such a scope That Charles himself might chase To Oaresbrook's narrow case IMITATIONS OF HORACE. 157 That thence the royal actor borne The tragic scaffold might adorne ; while round the armed bands Did clap their bludy hands. He nothing common did or mean, Upon- that memorable scene, But with his keener eye The axe's edge did trye ; Nor called the gods, with vulgar spight, To vindicate his helplesse right ; But bowed his comely head Downe, as upon a bed. This was that memorable houre Which first assured the forced power ; So when they did designe The Capitol's first line, A bleeding head, where they begun Did fright the architects to run ; And yet in that the State Foresaw its happy fate ! And now the Irish are asham'd To see theniselves in one year tam'd ; So much one man can doe That does both act and know. They can affirm his praises best And have, though overcome, confest How good he is, how just And fit for highest trust. Nor yet grown stiffer with command, But still in the Republiok's hand — How fit. he is to sway That can so well obey ! 158 IMITATIONS OF BORACE. He to the Commons' feet presents A kingdom for his first year's rents, And (what he may) forbears His fame to make it theirs ; And has his sword and spoyls nngirt To lay them at the publick's skirt : So when the falcon high Falls heavy from the sky, She, having killed, no more doth search But on the next green bongh to perch, Where, when he first does lure The faulkner has her sure. — What may not then our Isle presume. While Victory his crest does plume ? What may not others feare, If ..thus he crowns each yeare ? As OsBsar, he, ere long, to Gaul, To Italy, an Hannibal, And to all States not free Shall clymacteriek be. The Piot no shelter now shall find Within his party-colour' d mind, But, from his valour, sad. Shrink underneath the plad — Happy, if in the tufted brake. The English hunter him mistake Nor lay his hounds in neere The Caledonian deer. But thou, the Warr's and Fortune's sonne, March indefatigably on ; And for the last effect, Still keep the sword erect : IMITATIONS OF HORACE. 159 Besides the force it has to fright The spirits .of the shady night. The same arts that did gain A pow'r mnst it maintain. Andeew Marvel.' THE FIRST ODE OF THE FIRST BOOK IMITATED. TO JOHN MILLER, Esq. MILLER, whom fair lerne bore To grace Britannia's happier shore, Whose genins guides, whose counsel guards The labours of Bathonian bards," Survey mankind, and each you'll view His various path of joy pursue. There are in phaetons who smoke ye. Collecting dust enough to choke ye, With elbows square and nodding heads, And long- tail' d scrambling quadrupeds. Whip round the post — turn sharp — out neat — Despise — and frighten all they meet : Or studious of the Oljrmpio races. Keep half a running horse at Scraoe's,* ' " The Horatian ode is one of the least known, but among the greatest that the English language possesses. In its whole treat- ment it reminds us of the highest to which the greatest Latin artist in lyrical poetry did, when at his best, attain. To one unacquainted with Horace, this ode, not perhaps so perfect as his are in form, and with occasional obscurities of expression which Horace would not have left, will giro a truer notion of the kind of greatness which he achieved than, so far as I know, could from any other poem in the language be obtained." — Akohbishop Tkench. ' Mrs. Miller had established a poetical coterie at her villa at Batheaston. 3 The Bath riding-school. 160 IMITATIONS OF HORACE. Hedging, and odds, and bets their theme. — By which some knowing ones, I deem, With zones about their necks have vaulted Tow'rds heaven, above their peers exalted. The alderman, who pants to grace The golden chain, the sword, and mace ; The griping hnnks, whose barns contain Full many a year's well-hoarded grain. Tet anxious to increase his store. Grubs his paternal fields for more, Would ne'er the boist'rous waves be tost on, In search of dear bought palms at Boston, Though all the treasures were consign'd them. Her hapless exiles leave behind them, In stoutest bark would ne'er sustain The horrors of th' Atlantic main. Secure from wars, and dangerous seas, Colonel Jaghire enjoys his ease, Buys lands, and beeves with Indian gold. Which some' poor English squire has sold ; King, Lords, and Commons he defies, " The town is all my own," he cries, " That cursed climate I've been hurt in " And nabob-making grows uncertain — " This snug retreat I'm safe from harm in, — " How sweet that wood ! that lawn how charming ! " But ah ! his passion soon returns, With restless flames his bosom burns ; His bark he rigs, resolv'd once more The distant Ganges to explore, Rather than on his native ground To starve — on fourscore thousand pound. Oft will you meet old General Drone : A character at Bath well known ; The Rooms and Cofliee-house he haunts. IMITATIONS OF HORACE. 161 Drinks sometimes tea, and sometimes Nantz : Complaining of tlie gripes and vapours, He'll ask " wliat news there's in the papers ; " Then cry, " such measures we're pursuing This nation's on the brink of ruin ; " — But urge.him to explain her wrongs, — Down fall the poker and the tengs ; He hums, and haws, and recommends — a — — Prescription for the — influenza ; — In Summer, lounging at Spring Garden, In Winter, every door bombarding. With morning visits duly paid Down from the Orescent to Parade, His head he'll in the Pump Room poke To catch some stale unmeaning joke, With news and nonsense for the day, To drive his irksome hours away. Pierc'd with the fife's, and trumpet's voice, Britannia's warlike youth rejoice ; The blended sounds transport their ear. While trembling, anxious mothers fear These heroes should desert — their quarters To Scotland to entice their daughters. The northern blast, and driving rains Sir Hsirdy Thickset well sustains ; Whether the hind, or wily fox His fleet hounds urge o'er vales and rocks, He drives the chase with perseverance, Wor heeds his tender wife's endearance, At night returning to console her — With feats of Bowman and of Jowler. For me — the verdant ivy guerdon (Which you. Sir, have my brows confer'd on) With many an artless rhyme I jingle, Gives me with loftier bards to mingle; M 162 IMITATIONS OF HORACE. Me, to enjoy thy cool cascade, Thy nodding grove, and checker'd shade. And view the smUing nymphs advance. To join with thee the festive dance, Content if sweet Euterpe deign To hear my humble pipe complain ; Or when beside the winter fire, With careless hand I sweep the lyre. The gay fantastic Polyhymny Visit the corner of my chimney, Inspiring notes of joy and mirth. That please and perish in their birth : But if thy fair, thy matchless dame Approve my verse and stamp my fame. In concert with well-judging ***** Assign to me her myrtle sprigs. And lead me through th' Aonian path To join the vocal swans of Bath, Not Madge ' in all her glory drest. Shall rear so high her tow'ring crest, I'll soar above all vulgar eyes, And bear my plumage to the skies. Cheistophee Anstey." IMITATION OF ODE I., BOOK I. TO JOHN BULL, Esq. DREAD sir ! half human, half divine. Descended from a lengthen'd line Of heroes famed in story — ' The heroine of the author's poem of " The Election Ball." 2 The witty author of the " New Bath Guide." " So much wit," wrote Horace Walpole, "so much humour, fun and poetry never met together before." IMITATIONS OF HORACE. 163 Of ocean -andispiited lord ; Of Europe and ter recreant horde, The " riddle, jest, and glory." What various sports attract your sons ; Some to Hyde Park escape from duns, ' In curricle or tandem : In dusty clouds envelop'd quite, Like Jove, who, from Olympus' height, Hurls thunderbolts at random. One draws his gold from Lombard Street,' Amongst the Lords to buy a seat, The Lord knows why or wherefore ; Another, give him rural sports. And crowded cities, splendid courts. He not a jot will care for. The merchant, baulk'd by Boreas, vents His idle anger and laments Sonie luckless speculation : Of ease, and Clapham Common, talks But soon on Gresham's murmuring walka Resumes his daily station. Thds makes the jolly God his theme, In claret drowns Aurora's beam. And riots with the friskers : That, a dragoon, delights in arms. And thoughtless of mamma's alarms. Sports high-heel'd boots and whiskers. The hunter quits his bed at five, The fox or timorous deer to drive Down precipices horrid, And carries home, returning late, A trophy for his amorous mate. The antlers on his forehead. 164 IMITATIONS OF HORACE. Me toil and ease alternate share, Books, and the converse of the fair, (To see is to adore 'em ;) With these and London for my home, I envy not the joys of Rome, The Circus or the Forum ! If you, great sir, wiU deign to vote For Horace, in his London coat. Nor check my classic fury j Great Magog of the lyric train, I'll mount to kiss the Muse's twain. Who face the Gods of Drury. From " Eoraoe m London," by James and Horace Smiths AD EBGEM CAROLUM, Pa/rodia Ca/rm. 2, Lib. 1. JAM satis pestis, satis atque diri Fulminis misit Pater, et rubenti Dextera nostras jaculatus arces Terruit urbem. Terruit cives, grave ne rediret Pristinum sseclum nova monstra questum Omne cum pestis egit altos Visere montes ; ' Tlie imitations of the first two books of Odes by James and Horace Smith, the authors of the ever popular " Eejected Addresses," were written originally without any regard to regularity of succes- sion, and many of them made a first appearance in the pages of a monthly publication. They wei*e collected and published as a whole in 1813 under the title of " Horace in London." IMITATIONS OF HORACE. 165 Cum Bcliolae latis genns hsesit agris, Nota quae sedes fuerat bubulois, Cum toga abjecta pavidus reliquit Oppida dootus. Vidimus Chamum fluvinm retortis Litore a dextro violenter undis Ire plorautem mouumenta pestis Templa que clausa ; Granta dum semet nimium querent! Miscet uxori, vagus et sinistra Laibitur ripa, Jove comprobante Tristior amnis. Audiit ccelos acuisse ferrum, Quo graves Turcse melius perirent ; Audiit mortes vitio parentum Rara Juventus. Quem vocet Divum populus mentis Imparl rebus ? preoe qua fatigent Doctior coetus minus audientes Carmina ccelos ? Cui dabit partes Inis expiandse Jupiter, tandem venias, precamur, Nube candentes humeros amictus Auxiliator. Sive tu mavis, Erycina nostra Quam Jocus oircumvolat et Cupido, Tuque neglectum genus et nepotes Auxeris ipsa. Sola tain longam removere pestem, Quam juvat luctusfaciesqne tristis, Prolis optat^ reparare mole Sola potesque. 166 IMITATIONS OF HORACE. Siye felici Caroltim figura Parvulns princeps imitetur, almaa Sive Maries decoret puellam Dulcis imago. Serns in ooelum re'deas, diuqne Lsetus intersis populo Britanno ; Neve te nostris vitiis iniqunm Ocior aura Tollat. Hie magnos potjus trimnphos, Hie ames dioi pater atque princeps, Et nova njortes reparare prole Te patre, Caesar. "Andeew Maevel. Translation. TO KING CHARLES I. ENOUGH by this of plague and lightning pale Our sire has sejit this way, who from his red Right hand the hallow'd turrets did assail, And thrill'd the town with dread : With dread the people thrill'd, lest the dire age Return, which mourn'd unwonted horrid sights, When the dire Plague sent every, flock to graze The lofty, mountain-heights : When the broad meadows felt the scholar's tread, Where erst the simple herd in peace lay down, When, casting off his robes, the doctor fled Prom the deserted town. We saw the muddied Camus vehement. With waves driven backward on Midsummer Plain, IMITATIONS OF HORACE. 167 Bush., mourniiig many a plague-built monument And shut-up college fane. While Granta with his much-complaining mate Is huddled close, and on the thither shore, As Jove looks on indifferent to their fate. Glides chafing more and more. The scatter'd youth are told how angry Heaven •Whetteth this sword, more meet for heathen Turks ; Are told of hapless crowds to slaughter driven By their own father's works. What god, I marvel, will the people cite To prop their falling state ? How many times Must our thrice-learned crowds the gods invite To listen to their rhymes ? To whom will Jupiter assign the task To expiate our blot ? Come then, we pray, Hiding thy shoulders in a cloudy mask, Be thou our help this day. Or wouldst thou rather, Brycina fair, Kound whom young Sport and Oupid gambol free. Help thy neglected race, and watch with care Thine own posterity ? Thou ouly may'st remove this Plague malign. Whom nothing but sad looks and grief delight ; Thou only canst repair our failing line. And fairer hopes excite. Whether some little Charles, his father's grace With happy imitation wear anew, 'Or the sweet image of Maria's face Blush with a maiden hue, — ■ 168 iMITATIONS OF HORACE. Late be thy jburney to the lucent star, Long may'st thou tarry here in English clime ; Nor any wind pernicious waft thee far, Sick of thy people's crime. Here rather triumph largely, and aspire To be thy people's father as their king ; That from the death-invaded race, sire, A second stock may spring. Andbew Marvel,^ IMITATION, ODE IV., BOOK I. BEIGHTON. NOW fruitful Autumn lifts his sun-burnt head, The slighted Park few cambric muslins whiten, The dry machines revisit Ocean's bed. And Horace quits awhile the town for Brighton. The cit foregoes his box at Turnham Green, To pick up health and shells with Amphitrite, Pleasure's frail daughters trip along the Steyne, Led by the dame the Greeks call Aphrodite. Phoebus the tanner, plies his fiery trade. The graceful nymphs ascend Judea's ponies, Scale the West Cliff, or visit the Parade, While poor Papa in town a patient drone is. Loose trousers snatch the wreath from pantaloons ; Nankeen of late were worn the sultry weather in ; But now, (so will the Prince's Light Dragoons,) White jean have trinmph'd o'er their Indian brethren, ' This ode appeared originally in "Musa Cantabrigiensis" (1637). IMITATIONS OF HORACE. 169 Here with choice food earth, smiles and ocean yawns, Intent alike to please the London glntton, This, for our breakfast proffers shrimps and prawns, That, for our dinner South- down lambs and mutton. Yet here, as elsewhere, death impartial reigns, Visits alike the cot and the Pavilion, And for a bribe with equal scorn disdains My half a crown, and Baring's half a million. Alas ! how short the span of human pride ! Time flies, and hope's romantic schemes are undone ; Cosweller's coach, that carries four inside. Waits to take back the unwilling bard to London. Te circulatiug novelists, adieu ! Long envious cords my black portmanteau tighten j Billiards, begone ! avaunt illegal loo ! Farewell old Ocean's bauble, glittering Brighton ! Long shalt thou laugh thine enemies to scorn, Proud as Phenicia, queen of watering places ; Boys yet unbreech'd, and virgins yet unborn. On thy bleak down shall tan their blooming faces. James and Hobacb Smith. IMITATION OF ODE V., BOOK I. WHAT mean those amorous curies of jet? For what heart-ravisht maid Dost thou thy hair in order set. Thy wanton tresses braid ? And thy vast store of beauties open lay, Thatthe deluded fancy leads astray. 170 IMITATIONS OF HORACE. For pitty hide thy starry eyes, WTiose languishments destroy, And look not on the slave that dies With an excess of joy. Defend thy coral lips, thy amber breath ; To taste these sweets lets in a certain death. Forbear, fond charming youth, forbear. The words of melting love : Thy eyes thy language well may spare, One dart enough can move : ' And she that hears thy voice, and sees thy eyes. With too much pleasure, too much softness dies. Cease, cease, with sighs to warm my soul Or press me with thy hand : ' Who can the kindling fire controul. The tender force withstand ? Thy sighs and touches like wing'd lightning fly And are the god of love's artillery. Aphea Been. IMITATION OF THE SAME ODE. WHAT gentle youth, my lovely fair one, say With sweets perfum'd now courts thee to the bow'r, " Where glows, with lustre red, the rose of May To form thy couch, in love's enchanting hour ? By zephyrs wav'd,.why does thy loose hair sweep. In simple curls around thy polish'd brow ? The wretch that loves thee now, too soon shall weep Thy faithless beauty, and thy broken vow. IMITATIONS OF HORACE. 171 Tho' soft the beams of tliy delusive eyes, As the smooth surface of th' untroubled stream, Yet, ah ! too soon th' extatic vision flies. Plies like the fairy paintings of a dream. Unhappy youth ! 0, shun the warm embrace, H"or trust too much affection's flattering smile ; Dark poison lurks beneath that charming facej Those melting eyes but languish to beguile. Thank heav'n, I've broke the sweet but galling chain, Worse than the horrors of the stormy main. Chatteeton.i ODE TO THE DIRECTOR MERLIN. ODE v., BOOK I. w HO now from Naples, Rome, or Berlin, Creeps to thy blood-stain'd den, O Merlin, With .diplomatic gold ? to whom Dost thou give audience en costwne ? King Citizen t how sure each state That bribes thy love, shall feel thy hate ; . Shall see the Democratic storm •Her commerce, law, and arts deform. How credulous, to hope the bribe Could purchase peace from Merlin's tribe ! Whom, faithless as the waves or wind, No oaths restrain, no treaties bind. For us — beneath yon sacred roof, The naval flags and arms of proof ' Chatterton, who was ignorant of Latin, paraphrased this and Ode XIX. of same book fi-om Watson's prose translation. 172 IMITATIONS OF HORACE. By British valour nobly bought, Show how true safety must be sought ! LOED MOEPETH. From " The AnU-Jacohin," No. 29, May 28, 1798. THE JILT. ODE v., BOOK I. SAT, Lucy, what enamonr'd spark Now sports thee through the gazing Park In new barouche or tandem ; And as infatuation leads, Permits his reason and his steeds To run their course at random ? Pond youth, those braids of ebon hair, Which to a face already fair Impart a lustre fairer ; Those locks which now invite to love. Soon unconfin'd and false shall prove, And changeful as the wearer. Unpractised in a woman's guUe, Thou think'st, perchance, her halcyon smile Portends unruffled quiet ; That, ever charming, fond and mild, No wanton thoughts, or passions wild. Within her soul can riot. Alas ! how often shalt thou mourn, (If nymphs like her, so soon forsworn. Be worth a moment's trouble). How quickly own, with sad surprise. The paradise that bless'd thine eyes .Was painted on a bubble. IMITATIONS OF HORACE. 173 In her accommodating creed A lord will always supersede A commoner's embraces : His lordship's love contents the fair Until enabled to ensnare A nobler prize — ^his grace's ! Unhappy are the yonths who gaze, Who feel her beauty's maddening blaze, And trust to what she utters. For me, by sad experience wise. At rosy cheeks or sparkling eyes, My heart no longer flutters. Chamber'd in Albany, I view On every side a jovial crew Of Benedictine neighbours. I sip my coffee, read the news, I own no mistress but the Muse, And she repays my labours. And should some brat her love bespeak, (Though illegitimate and weak As these unpolish'd verses :) A father's joy shall still be mine Without the fear of parish fine, Bills, beadles, quacks, or nurses. James and Hobaoe Smith. o WALTER SCOTT. ODE VI., BOOK I. CHIVALRY, thy gallant reign. In prancing epic ballad strain, Let Walter Scott indite. 174 IMITATIONS OF HORACE. Channting the deeds inspir'd by thee, When red-cross knights arm'd oap-a-pee, Rode at the ring fall gallantly, Or triumph'd in the fight. For me, I strive not, by my fay, To imitate the Minstrel's lay. Tracing the Palmer on his way, Through Scottish bourn and brake : TJnform'd for hero's deeds I shun The strain of lordly Marmion, Or Lady of the Lake. My modest Muse, unskill'd in flights Of Caledonia's border knights. Forbears their glory to rehearse In peaceful unpresuming verse. Who can describe with honours due Of Korthern clans the endless crew, Creating endless war ? Unnumber'd Macs, of accent rude. The Gordon, Home, and Huntly brood, Graemes, Fosters, Fenwicka, who pursued The amorous Lochinvar. Whether or not I feel love's pain, I love the light accustom'd strain. I sing no feast in hall so gay, » Save that upon my Lord Mayor's day ; Record no arrow's fatal flight. Save Cupid's, feather'd with delight. And shoot alone my bloodless darts. From beauty's eyes to lover's hearts. James and Horace Smith. IMITATIONS OF HORACE. 175 IMITATION OF ODE IX., BOOK I. I, BLESS me ! 'tis cold ; how chill the air ! How naked does the world appear ! But see (big with the offspring of the north) The teeming clouds bring forth ; A show'r of soft and fleecy rain Falls, to new-clothe the Earth again. Behold the mountain-tops around, As if with fur of Ermine crown'd ; And, lo ! how by degrees The universal mantle hides the trees In hoary flakes which downward fly, As if it were the Autumn of the sky ! Trembling the groves sustain the weight, and bow Like aged limbs ; which feebly go Beneath a venerable head of snow. II. Diffusive cold does the whole earth invade. Like a disease thro' all its veins 'tis spread. And each late living stream is numb'd and dead. Let's melt the frozen hours, make warm the air ; Let cheerful fires Sol's feeble beams repair : Fill the large bowl with sparkling wine ; Let's drink till our own faces shine, Till we like suns appear To light and warm the hemisphere. Wine can dispense to all both light and heat, They are with wine incorporate ; That pow'rful juice, with which no cold dares mix, Which still is fluid, and no frost can fix, Let that but in abundance flow. And let it storm and thunder, hail and snow ; 176 IMITATIONS OF HORACE. 'Tis Heav'n's concern; and let it be The care of Heav'n still for me. These winds, which rend the oaks and plough the seas, Great Jove can, if he please. With one commanding nod, appease. III. Seek not to know to-morrow's doom ; That is not ours which is to come. The present moment's all our store ; The next should Heav'n allow, Then this will be no more : So all our life is but one instant now. Look on each day you've past To be a mighty treasure won, Aiid lay each moment out in haste ; We're sure to live too fast, And cannot live too soon. Youth does a thousand pleasures bring, Which from decrepit age will fly. The flow'rs that flourish in the Spring, In Winter's cold embraces die. IV. Now Love, that everlasting boy ! invites To revel while you may in soft delights : Now the kind nymph yields all her charms, Nor yields in vain to youthful arms. Slowly she promises at night to meet. But eagerly prevents the hour with swifter feet : To gloomy groves and obscure shades she flies. There vails the bright confession of her eyes : Unwillingly she stays, Woul^ more unwUlingly depart, IMITATIONS OF ff GRACE. 177 And in soft sighs conveys The whispers of her heart, i^ Still she invites, and still denies, And vows she'll leave you if you're rude, Then from her ravisher she flies, But flies to be pursu'd ; If from his sight she does herself convey, "With a feign'd laugh she will herself betray. And cunningly instruct him in the way. CONGEETE. WINTER. ODE IX., BOOK I. SEE Richmond is clad in a nlantle of snow : The woods that o'ershadow'd the hill Now bend with their load, while the river below In musical murmurs forgetting to flow. Stands mournfully frozen and still. Who cares for the winter ? My sunbeams shall shine Serene from a register stove ; With two or three jolly companions to dine. And two or three bottles of generous wine, The rest I relinquish to Jove. The oak bows its head in the hurricane's swell, Condemn'd in its glory to fall ; The marigold dies unperceiv'd in the dell, Unable alike to retard or impel The crisis assign'd to us all. Then banish to-morrow, its hopes and its fears, To-day is the prize we have won ; Ere surly old age in its wrinkles appears, With laughter and love in your juvenile years Make sure of the days as they run. 178 .IMITATIONS OF BOBACB. The park and the playhouse my presence shall greet, The opera yield its delight ; Catalan! may charm me, but oh ! far more sweet The mnsical voice of Laurette when we meet In Mte-Oi-Ute^ concert at night. False looks of denial in vain would she fling,^ In vain to some corner begone ; And if in our kisses I snatch off her ring, It is, to my fancy, a much better thing. Than a kiss after putting one on ! James and Horace Smith. IMITATION, ODE XL, BOOK I. DEAR Silvia let's no farther strive To know how long we have to live ; Let busy gown-men search to know Their fates above, while we Contemplate beauty's greater power below Whose only smiles give immortality ; But -who s«eks fortune in a star Aims at a distance much too far. She's more inconstant than they are. What though this year must be our last. Faster than time our joys let's haste ; Nor think oif ills to come, or past. Give me but love and wine I'll ne'er Complain my destiny's severe. Since life beard so uncertain date With pleasure we'll attend oni" fate, And cheerfully go meet it at the gate. The brave and witty know no fear or sorrow, Let us'-enjoy to-day, we'll dye to-morrow. Aphba Behn. IMITATION'S OF HORACE, 179 THE SAME. FORBEAR, my friend ! witli idle schemes, To search into the maze of fate ; Your horoscoJ)es are airy dreams, Tour cofifee-tossing all a cheat ! What adds it to onr real peace. To know life's accidents or date ? The knowledge would our pains increase, And make us more unfortunate. Wisely conceal'd in endless night, Has Heav'n wrapp'd up its dark decrees ; The view, too strong for human sight. Might else destroy our present ease ; Then gladly use the courting hour, Enjoy, and make it all your own ! And pull with haste the fairest flow'r, Ere Time's quick hand have cut it down. OJieerful fill up the genial bowl And crown it with some lovely toast t Till the rich cordial warm your soul, A,nd every thought in joy be lost. The fleeting moments of delight, Improve with an uncommon care ! For now they urge their destin'd flight, And now are mix'd with vulgar air ! Still, let me taste my share of bliss, Pure and unmix'd with care and sorrow ! No more my friend, in life I wish, 'Tis all a jest to trust to-morrow. Samuel Boyse. 180 IMITATIONS OF BORACE. A CONSOLATORY ADDRESS TO HIS GUN- BOATS, BY CITIZEN MUSKEIN. ODE XIV., BOOK I. O GENTLE gtin-boats, whom the Seine Discharged from Havre to the main ; Now leaky, creaking, blood-bespatter'd, With rudders broken, canvas shatter' d — tempt the treacherous sea no more. But gallantly regain the shore. Scarce could our guardian Goddess, Reason, Ensure your timbers through the season : Though built of wood from famed Marseilles, Well mann'd from galleys, and from jails ; Though with Lepaux's, and Rewbell's aid, By Pleville's skill your keel was laid ; Though lovely Stael, and lovelier Stone,' Have work'd their fingers to the bone, \ And out their petticoats to rags To make your bright Three-coloured Blags j Yet sacrilegious grape and ball Deform the works of Stone and Stael, And trembling, without food or breeches. Our sailors curse the painted ' " Stone — better known by the name of Williams." — Note, " Anti- Jacobin." Helen Maria 'Williams was pre-eminent among the violent female partisans of the French Eevolution. For some years she wrote that portion of the " New Annual Register " that relates to France, She lived for many years under the protection of Mr. John Stone, 2 " We decline printing this rhyme at length, from obvious reasons of delicacy : at the same time it is so accurate a ta'anslation of pictis pwppilms, that we know not how to suppress it without doing the utmost injustice to the general spirit of the poem," — Note, " Anti- Jacobin." IMITATIONS OF HORACE, 181 Children, of Muskein's anxious care, Source of my hope and raj despair, Grun-boats — unless you mean hereafter To furnish food for British laughter — Sweet gun-boats, with your gallant crew, Tempt not the rocks of Saint Marcou; Beware the Badger's bloody pennant, And that d — d invalid lieutenant ! Lord Morpeth, Frcm " The Anti-JacoUn," No. 27, May 14, 1798. THE EDINBUEGH EBVIEWEES. ODE XVI., BOOK I, OEIGrOEOUS sons of a clime more severe, If Horace in London offend, Unbought let him perish, unread disappear, But, ah ! do not hasten his end. Not whisker'd Geramb who veracity braves In boasting of princely delights. Not Eowland, when thumping the cushion he raves Of Beelzebub's capering sprites, Are mad as the martyr, inviting the whips Of poesy's merciless reign ; Who like Mrs. Brownrigg her 'prentices strips, Then kills them with famine and pain. 'Tis said when the box of Pandore flew ope, A treasure was found underneath : It seem'd to the vulgar a figure of Hope, To poets a laureat wreath. 182 iMITATIONS OF SOBAC& 'Twas this ignis fatuus tempting to roam, That lighted poor Burns to his fate : That bade him abandon his plough and his home To starve amid cities and state. Me too, has the treacherous phantom inspir'd In moments of youthful delight ; With lyric presumption my bosom has fir'd To imitate Horace's might. Repentant, henceforth I will write like a dunce In prose all the rest of my life, If you, dread dissectors, will spare me this once. The smart of your critical knife. James and Horace Smith. THE WELCH COTTAGE. To Jjomra. ODE XVIL, BOOK I. HE wood-nymphs crown'd with vernal flow'rs, Who roam thro' Tempe's classic bow'rs And sport in gambols antic ; If e'er they quit their native vales, Will find around my cot in Wales, A region more romantic. T Green pastures girt with pendant rock, Along who^e steep my snowy flock Ad\renturously wanders ; Impending shrubs and flowers that gleam » Reflected in the crystal stream, Which thro' the scene meanders ; mrrATioNs of horacr 183 In sylTan beauty charm the eyes, While no ungracious sounds arise Of misery or anger ; , , . . The song of birds, the insects' hum Are never broken by the 'drum, Or trumpet's brazen clangor. . If sleeping echo starts to mark 1 J . The matin carols of the lark Or sounds of early labour ; Again she seeks her calm retreat, Till evening calls her to repeat The shepherd's pipe and tabor. Whene'er I woo the Muse serene, Her magic smile illumes the scene. And brighter tints discloses. But e'en the Muse's chaplet fades. Unless the hand of Oupid braids Her myrtles with his roses. Haste, then, my Laura, to my bower. And let us give the fleeting hour To plenty, love, and pleasure : Where wanton boughs in arbour wreathej I to thy melting harp will breathe My amatory measure. Let not the town your soul enthral, - The crowded rout and midnight ball, Those penalties of fashion : If nature still have power to please. Oh ! hither fly to health and ease, And cro-^v^n a poet's passion. No jealous fears shall curb your mind, Here shall no spirit be cpnfin'd By prejudiced opinion. 184 IMITATIONS OF HORACE. My Laura here a Queen shall be, From all control and bondage free, Save Onpid's soft dominion, James and Horace Smith, AN IMITATION OF ODE XIX., BOOK I, YES ! I am caught, my melting soul To Venus bends without control, I pour th' impassioned sigh. Ye Gods ! what throbs my bosom move. Responsive to the glance of love. That beams in Stella's eye, how divinely fair that face, And what a sweet resistless grace On every feature dwells ! And, on those features, all the while. The softness of each frequent smile Her sweet good nature tells. O Love ! I'm thine, no more I sing Heroic deeds — the sounding string Forgets its wonted strain ; For aught but love, the lyre's unstrung. Love melts and trembles on my tongue And thrills in every vein. Invokiiig the propitious skies. The green-sod altar let us rise ; Let holy incense smoke, And if we pour the sparkling wine. Sweet gentle peace may still be mine ; This dreadful chain be broke. , Chattebton. IMITATIONS OF HORACE. 185 PLEASING PETULANCE, ODE XIX., BOOK I. DAME VENUS, who lives but to tcx, And Bacchus, the dealer in wine, Unite with the love of the sex, To harass this poor head of mine. Sweet Ellen's the cause of my woe, 'Tis madness her charms to behold, Her bosom's as white as the snow. And the heart it enshrines is as cold. Her petulant frowns have more grace. Than others to smiles can impart, The roses that bloom in her face Have planted their thorns in my heart. Fair Venus, who sprang from the sea, Despising the haunts of renown, Leaves Brighton, to frolic with me, And spend the whole Tvinter in town. I sang of the heroes of Spain, Who fight in the Parthian mode, The goddess grew sick at my strain. And handed to Vulcan my ode : " Forbear," she exclaim'd, " silly elf. With haughty Bellona to rove. Leave Spain to take care of herself. — Thy song is of Ellen and love." Come, Love, bring the Graces along. That Ellen may melt at my woes, Let fluent B los), £1 17s 6d. 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Patterson {R, H.) — The New Golden Age, and Influence of the Precious Metals upon the War, 2 vols, 8vo, cloth (pub 3IS 6d), 6s, Blackwood & Sons. Contents. Vol I. — The Period of Discovery and Romance of the New Golden Age, 1848-56.— The First Tidings— Scientific Fears, and General Enthusiasm— The Great Emigration— General Effects of the Gold Discoveries upon Commerce — Position of Great Britain, and First Effects on it of the Gold Discoveries — The Golden Age in California and Australia — Life at the Mines. A Retrospect. — History and Influence of the Precious Metals down to the Birth of Modem Europe — The Silver Age in America — Effects of the Silver Age upon Europe — Production of the Precious Metals during the Silver Age (1492-1B10) — Effects of the Silver Age upon the Value of Money (1492-1800). Vol n. — Period of Renewed Scarcity. — Renewed Scarcity of the Precious Metals, A.D. 1800-30 — The Period of Scarcity. Part II. — Effects upon Great Britain — The Scarcity lessens — Beginnings of a New Gold Supply — General Distress before the Gold Discoveries. " Chkap " and "Dear" Money — On the Effects ofChanges in the Quantity and Value of Money. The New Golden Age.— First Getting of the New Gold— First Diffusion of the New Gold— Indus- trial Enterpririe in Europe — Vast Expansion of Trade with the East (a.d. 1855- 75) — Total Amount of the New Gold and Silver— Its Influence upon the World at large — Close of the Golden Age, 1876-80 — Total Production of Gold and Silver. Period 1492-1848. — Production of Gold and Silver subsequent to 1848 — Changes in the Value of Money subsequent to a.d. 1492. Period a.d. 1848 and subsequently. Period a.d. i/Ss-iSes-^Illusive Character of the Board of Trade Returns since 1853 — Growth of our National Wealth. Richardson and Watts' Complete Practical Treatise on Acids., Alkalies^ and Salts, their Manufacture and Application, by Thomas Richardson, Ph.D., F.R.S., &c., and Henry Watts, F.R.S., F.C.S., &c., illustrated with numerous wood engravings, 3 thick 8vo vols, cloth (pub £^ los), 8s 6d, London. Tunis, Past and Present., with a Narrative of the French Conquest of the Regency, by A. M. Broadley, Correspondent of the Times during the War in Tunis, with numerous illustrations and maps, 2 vols, post 8vo, cloth (pub 25s), 6s, Blackwood & Sons. " Mr Broadley has had peculiar facilities in collecting materials for his volumes. Po.ssessing a thorough knowledge of Arabic, he has for years acted as confidential adviser to the Bey. . . . The information which he is able to place before the reader is novel and amusing. ... A standard work on Tunis has been long required. This deficiency has been admirably supplied by the author." — Morning Post. Sent Carriage Free to any fart of the United Kingdom on receipt of Postal Order for the amount. JOM GRANT, 25 & 34 George IT. Bridge, Edinburgli. John Grant, Bookseller, Cervantes — History of the Ingenious Gentleman, Don Quixote of La Mancha, translated from the Spanish by P. A. Motteux, illustrated with a portrait and 36 etchings, by M. A. Laluze, illustrator of the library edition of Moliere's Works, 4. vols, large 8vo, cloth (sells £'^ 12s), f,\ 15s. W. Paterson. Dyer (Thomas H., LL.D.) — Imitative Art, its Principles and Progress, with Preliminary Remarks on Beauty, Sublimity, and Taste, 8vo, cloth (pub 14s), 2s. Bell & Sons, 1882. Junior Etching Club — Passages from Modern English Poets, Illustrated by the Junior Etching Club, 47 beautiful etchings by J. E. Millais, J. Whistler, J. Tenniel, Viscount Bury, J. Law- less, F. Smallfield, A. J. Lewis, C. Rossiter, and other artists, 4to, cloth extra, gilt edges (pub 15s), 4s. Smith (_/ Moyr) — Ancient Greek Female Costume, illus- trated by 112 fine outline engravings and numerous smaller illustrations, with Explanatory Letterpress, and Descriptive Passages from the Works of Homer, Hesiod, Herodotus, ^schy- lus, Euripides, and other Greek Authors, printed in brown, crown 8vo, cloth elegant, red edges (pub 7s 6d), 3s. Sampson Low. Strutfs Sylva Britannice et Scotice ; or. Portraits of Forest Trees Distinguished for their Antiquity, Magnitude, or Beauty, drawn from Nature, with 50 highly finished etchings, imp. folio, half morocco extra, gilt top, a handsome volume (pub ;^9 9s), £2 2S. Walpole's [Horace) Anecdotes of Painting in England, with some Account of the Principal Artists, ' enlarged by Rev. James Dallaway ; and Vertue's Catalogue of Engravers who have been born or resided in England, last and best edition, revised with additional notes by Ralph N. Wornum, illustrated with eighty portraits of the principal artists, and woodcut portraits of the minor artists, 3 handsome vols, 8vo, cloth (pub 27s), 14s 6d. Bickers. The same, 3 vols, half morocco, gilt top, by one of the best Edinburgh binders (pub 45s), £\ 8s. Warren's {Samuel) Works — Original and early editions as follows ; — • Miscellanies, Critical, Imaginative, and Juridical, con- tributed to Blackwood's Magazine, original edition, 2 vols, post 8vo, cloth (pub 24s), 5s. Blackwood, 1855. No7v and Then ; Through a Glass Darkly, early edition, crown 8vo, cloth (pub 6s), is 6d. Blackwood, 1853. Ten Thousand a Year,, early edition, with Notes, 3 vols, i2mo, boards, back paper title (pub i8s), 4s 6d. Blackwood, 1853- Sent Carriage Free to any part of the United Kingdom on receipt of Postal Order for the amount. JOM GRANT, 25 & 34 George IT. Bridge, Edinburgli. ■25 '^ 34 George IV. Bridge, Edinburgh. 1 3 Wood {Major Herbert, R.E.) — The Shores of Lake Aral, with large folding maps (352 pages), 8vo, cloth (pub 14s), 2s 6d, Smith, Elder, & Co. Arnold's (Cecil) Great Sayings of Shakespeare, a Com- prehensive Index to Shakespearian Thought, being a Collection of Allusions, Reflections, Images, Familiar and Descriptive Pas- sages, and Sentiments from the Poems and Plays of Shakespeare, Alphabetically Arranged and Classified under Appropriate Head- ings, one handsome volume of 422 pages, thick 8vo, cloth (pub 7s 6d), 3s. Bickers. Arranged in a manner similar to Southgate's ** Many Thoughts of Many Minds." This index differs from all other books in being much more com- prehensive, while care has been taken to follow the most accurate text, and to cope, in the best manner possible, with the difhculties of correct classification. Bacon {Francis, Lord) — Works, both English and Latin, with an Introductory Essay, Biographical and Critical, and copious Indices, steel portrait, 2 vols, royal 8vo, cloth (originally pub £2. 2s,) I2S, 1879. All his works are, for expression as well as thought, the glory of our nation, and of all later ages."- — Sheffield, Duke of Buckinghamshire. "Lord Bacon was more and more known, and his books more and more delighted in ; so that those men who had more than ordinary knowledge in human affairs, esteemed him one of the most capable spirits of that age." Burnet {Bishop") — History of the Reformation of the Church of England, with numerous Illustrative Notes and copious Index, 2 vols, royal 8vo, cloth (pub 20s), los, Reeves & Turner, 1880. * ' Burnet, in his immortal History of the Reformation, has fixed the Protestant religion in this country as long as any religion remains among us. Burnet is, without doubt, the English Eusebius." — Dr Apthoepe. Burnefs History of his Own Time, from the Restoration of Charles II. to the Treaty of the Peace of Utrecht, with Historical and Biographical Notes, and a copious Index, com- plete in I thick volume, imperial 8vo, portrait, cloth (pub ;^I 5s), 5s 6d. " I am reading Burnet's Own Times. Did you ever read that garrulous pleasant history? full of scandal, which all true history is ; no palliatives, but all the stark wickedness that actually gave the momentum to national actors ; none of that cursed Humeian indifference, so cold, and unnatural, and inhuman," &c. — Charles Lamb. fyante — The Divina Commedia, translated into English Verse by James Ford, A.M., medallion frontispiece, 430 pages, crown 8vo, cloth, bevelled boards (pub 12s), 2S 6d. Smith, Elder, & Co. " Mr Ford has succeeded better than might have been expected ; his rhymes are good, and his translation deserves praise for its accuracy and fidelity. We cannot refrain from acknowledging the many good qualities of Mr Ford's trans- lation, and his labour of love will not have been in vain, if he is able to induce those who enjoy true poetry to study once more the masterpiece of that literature from whence the great founders of English poetry drew so much of their sweet- ness and power." — AthemEum. Sent Carriage Free to any part of the United Kingdom on receipt of Postal Order for the amount. JOM GRANT, 25 & 34 George IT. Bridge, Edinlaurgli. 14 John Grants Boooksellei\ Dobson ( W. T.) — The Classic Poets, their Lives and their Times, with the Epics Epitomised, 452 pages, crown 8vo, cloth (pub 9s), 2s 6d. Smith, Elder, & Co. Contents. — Homer's Iliad, The Lay of the Nibelungen, Cid Campeador, Dante's Divina Commedla, Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, Camoens' Lusiad, Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered, Spenser's Fairy Queen, Milton's Paradise Lost, Milton's Paradise Regained. English Literature : A Study of the Prologue and Epilogue in English Literature, from Shakespeare to Dryden, by G. S. B., crown 8vo, cloth (pub 5s), is 6d. Kegan Paul, 1884. Will no doubt prove useful to writers undertaking more ambitious researches into the wider domains of dramatic or social history. Johnson {Doctor) — His Friends and his Critics, by George Eirkbeck Hill, D.C.L., crown 8vo, cloth (pub 8s), 2s. Smith, Elder, & Co. "The public now reaps the advantage of Dr Hill's researches in a most readable volume. Seldom has a pleasanter commentary been written on a literary masterpiece. . . . Throughout the author of this pleasant volume has spared no pains to enable the present generation to realise more completely the sphere in which Johnson talked and taught." — Saturday Review. Jones^ (Rev, Harry) East and West London, being Notes of Common Life and Pastoral Work in St James's, Westminster, and in St George's-in-the-East, crown 8vo, cloth {pub 6s), 2s. Smith, Elder, & Co. " Mr Jones gives a graphic description of the trades and industries of East London, of the docks and their multifarious populations, of the bonded stores, of Jamrach and his wild animal repository, of Ratcliffe Highway with its homes and its snares for sailors, until the reader finds himself at home with all sorts and conditions of strange life and folk. ... A better antidote to recent gloomy forebodings of our national decadence can hardly be found." — AtheruEum. Kaye {John William, E,E.S., author of " History of the War in Afghanistan ") — The Essays oj an Optimist^ crown 8vo, 8vo, cloth extra (pub 6s), is 6d. Smith, Elder, & Co. "The Essays are seven in number, — Holidays, Work, Success, Toleration, Rest, Growing Old, and the Wrong Side of the Stuflf,— themes on which the author discourses with bright and healthy vigour, good sense, and good taste." — Standard. " We most sincerely trust that this book may find its way into many an English household. It cannot fail to instil lessons of manliness." — Westminster Revienv. Selkirk {J. B.) — Ethics and ^Esthetics of Modern Poetry, crown Svo, cloth gilt {pub 7s), 2s. Smith, Elder, & Co. Sketches from Shady Places, being Sketches from the Criminal and Lower Classes, by Thor Fredur, crown Svo, cloth (pub 6s), IS. Smith, Elder, & Co. "Descriptions of the criminal and semi-criminal (if such a word maybe coined) classes, which are full of power, sometimes of a disagreeable kind." — Atheneeum. Sent Carriage Free to any part of the United Kingdom on receipt of Postal Order for the amount. JOHN &RANT, 25 & 34 George IT. Bridge, Edinburgh. ^5 ^ 34 George IV. Bridge, Edinburgh. 15 By the Authoress of " The Land 0' the Leal." £ s. D. Nairne's (Baroness) Life and Songs, with a Memoir, and Poems of Caroline Oliphant the Younger, edited by Dr Charles Rogers, portrait and other illustrations, crown 8vo, cloth (pub 5s) Griffin 026 " This publication is a good service to the memory of an excellent and gifted lady, and to all lovers of Scottish Song." — Scotsman. Ossian's Poems, translated by Macplnerson, 24mo, best red cloth, gilt (pub 2s 6d) I 6 A dainty pocket edition. Perthsliire— Woods, Foressts, and Estates of Perthshire, with Sketches of the Principal Families of the County, by Thomas Hunter, Editor of the Perthshire Cotisti- tutional and Journal, illustrated with 30 wood engravings, crown 8vo (564 pp.), cloth (pub I2S 6d) Perth 060 "Altogether a choice and most valuable addition to the County Histories of Scotland." — Glasgow Daily Mail. Duncan (Jolin, Scotch Weaver and Botanist) — Life of, with Sketches of his Friends and Notices of the Times, by Wm. Jolly, F.R.S.E., H.M. Inspector of Schools, etched portrait, crown 8vo, cloth (pub 9s) Kegan Paul 040 "We must refer the reader to the book itself for the many quaint traits of character, and the minute personal descriptions, which, taken together, seem to give a life-like presentation of this humble philosopher. . . . The many inci- dental notices which the work contains of the weaver caste, the workman's esprit de corps, and his wanderings about the country, either in the performance of his work or, when that was slack, taking alhand at the harvest, form an interest- ing chapter of social history. The completeness of the work is considerably enhanced by detailed descriptions of the district he lived in, and of his numerous friends and acquaintance." — Atkerueum. Scots (Ancient)— An Examination of the An- cient History of Ireland and Iceland, in so far as it concerns the Origin of the Scots ; Ireland not the Hibernia of the Ancients ; Interpolations in Bede's Ecclesiastical History and other Ancient Annals affecting the Early History of Scotland and Ireland — the three Essays in one volume, crown 8vo, cloth (pub 4s) Edinburgh, 1883 O I o The first of the above treatises is mainly taken up with an investigation of the early History of Ireland and Iceland, in order to a.scertain which has the better claim to be considered the original country of the Scots. In the second and third an attempt is made to show that Iceland was the ancient Hibernia, and the country from which the Scots came to Scotland ; and further, contam a review of the evidence furnished by the more genuine of the early British Annals against the idea that Ireland was the ancient Scotia Magic and Astrology— Grant (James)— The Mysteries of all Nations : Rise and Progress of Superstition, Laws against and Trials of Witches, Ancient and Modern Delusions, together with Strange Customs, Fables, and Tales relating to Mythology, Miracles, Poets, and Superstition, Demonology, Magic and Astrology, Trials by Ordeal, Super- stition in the Nineteenth Century, &c., i thick vol, 8vo, cloth (pub I2S 6d) 1880 026 An interesting work on the subject of Superstition, valuable alike to archso- logists and general readers. It is chiefly the result of antiquarian research and actual observation during a period of nearly forty years^ Sent Carriage Free to any part of the United Kingdom on receipt of Postal Order for the amount. JOHN &RAIT. 25 & 34 George IT. Bridge, Ediaburglx. 1 6 /ohn Grant, Bookseller. A Story of the Shetland Isles. Saxby {Jessie M., author of " Daala-Mist" ^S^'^.) — Rock- Bound, a Story of the Shetland Isles, second edition, revised, crown 8vo, cloth (pub 2s), 6d. Edinburgh, 1877. "The life I have tried to depict is the life I remember twenty years ago, when the islands were far behind the rest of Britain in all that goes to make up modern civilisation." — Extract/rom Preftue. Burn {R. Scott) — The Practical Directory for the Im- froniement of Landed Property, Rural and Suburban, and the Economic Cultivation of its Farms (the most valuable work on the subject), plates and woodcuts, 2 vols, 4to, cloth (pub ;£'3 3s), 15s, PateJson. Burnefs Treatise on Painting, illustrated by ijo Etchings from celebrated pictures of the Italian, Venetian, Flemish, Dutch, and English Schools, also woodcuts, thick 4to, half morocco, gilt top (pub £^ los), £2 2s. The Costumes of all Nations, Ancient and Modern, exhibiting the Dresses and Habits of all Classes, Male and Female, from the Earliest Historical Records to the Nineteenth Century, by Albert Kretschmer and Dr Rohrbach, 104 coloured plates displaying nearly 2000 fnll-length figures, complete in one hand- some volume, 4to, half morocco (pub £i, 4s), 45s, Sotheran. Dryden's Dramatic Works, Library Edition, with Notes and Life by Sir Walter Scott, Bart., edited by George Saints- bury, portrait and plates, 8 vols, 8vo, cloth (pub £i, 4s), £\ los, Paterson. Lessing's {DrJ.) Ancient Oriental Carpet Patterns, after Pictures and Originals of the isth and l6th Centuries, 35 plates (size 20 X 14 in.), beautifully coloured after the originals, i vol, royal folio, in portfolio (pub £'i 3s), 21s, Sotheran. The most beautiful Work on the " Stately Homes of England.'" Nash's Mansions of England in the Olden Time, 104 Lithographic Views faithfully reproduced from the originals, with new and complete history of each Mansion, by Anderson, 4 vols in 2, imperial 4to, cloth extra, gilt edges (pub £6 6s), £2 los, Sotheran. Richardson's {Samuel) Works, Library Edition, with Biographical Criticism by Leslie Stephen, portrait, 12 vols, 8vo, cloth extra, impression strictly limited to 750 copies (pub £(> 6s), £2 Ss, London. Sent Carriage Free to any part of the United Kingdom on receipt of Postal Order for the amount. JOM GRANT, 25 & 34 G-eorge IT. Bridge, Edinburgh.