lllll J ; • ■■•Ifgp ■■HI I BSIillii Hlii ggggiligig > m™ — I HUT Hi KM 5^" s M Class TT\^ C- Book 31- 'Eaton's poem le fizcc the lide. .>///- . ///yr/,j/.v>/ /ft/*//*'.* 7/////"/ < //itilp. Sicilia's king in all his pride, To our blest Lady's church would ride, And hear the even song ; He rode all goodly to behold, In tissue clad of azure and gold; Behind his barons throng : In a rich, painted gallery He sat in pomp full royally. No cunning verse might well declare The riches of that chapel fair; The gates were burnish 'd brass: Of massive wax the tapers green In silver shone with glimmering sheen, And priests were seen to pass, In red-cross garments, one by one To th' altar steps of jasper-stone, 10 ROBERT KING OF SICILY. The altar was with crimson dight, All flower'd with gold and jewels bright, And in a niche on high The Virgin-queen of heav'n did stand With ball and sceptre in her hand, And robe of scarlet dye : The babe in cloth of silver drest, With crown of gold lay on her breast. But now was heard the organ-peal, Ladies and knights were seen to kneel ; The king still kept his chair : And now Magnificat was sung, This stave, by choral voices rung, Was echoed sweet in air : " En ! superbos Deus stravit, " Humiles et exaltavit." Wist not the king what words were those, He bade a learned clerk disclose The Latin mystery : " Sire," quoth the clerk, " the God most great " Hath cast the haughty from their seat, " And rais'd the humble high :" " Peace !" cried the king : " for well I know " There liveth none could bring me low." ROBERT KING OF SICILY. 11 The pealing music now had ceas'd, Heard was the blessing of the priest; The rattling pavement sounds: The tapers blink with feebler light, Then vanish into smoak : dun night Each marble aisle surrounds : But slumb'ring sate the king on high Within the painted gallery. Sudden he 'woke ; and sore amaz'd, Darkling, his angry voice he rais'd, The roof did shrilly ring : With torch-light came the sexton old, A staff within his griping hold, And look'd upon the king : " Hah ! lozel vile !" he roar'd, " what now " In holy church here filchest thou ?" Thick fell the staff; forth fled the king, Fierce threats of vengeance murmuring, And reach'd the palace gate: He blew the trump, and blew again ; " A curse upon my worthless train, " Who make their monarch wait!" With lamp the porter came : " What ho ! " Knave ! is it thou that brawlest so V 9 12 ROBERT KING OF SICILY. " Hah ! traitor vile, and renegade," Beside himself the monarch said, " Thou shalt he hang'd to death !" The porter strove with many a blow ; The king in wrath he struggled so, That he was spent of breath ; Yet by hard dint and strength of frame Into the palace-hall he came. Blessed St. Mary ! what a sight ! In tissue of gold and azure dight Himself was seated there : He rubb'd his eyes, and look'd again; Himself amid the courtly train Sate in a velvet chair : While many a knight and smiling dame With golden chess-men plied their game. There stood he mute — when one and all With laughter shook the dinning hall; The seeming Robert spoke ; " Good chance hath sent this merry knave; " Let him a fit apparel have " For tale, and gibe, and joke: " And he shall stay to make us sport, " For state is banish'd from my court. ROBERT KING OF SICILY. 13 Straight at the mandate of the king A motley coat the menials bring Of yellow, blue, and red ; A Iong-ear'd hood he wears beside, With squirrels' tails diversified, That dangle from his head : Fool of the hall he rolls his eyes, And shouts of laughter deaf'ning rise. Now where the stabled asses sleep He to his bed is fain to creep ; And passing through the door, His barking dogs around him bay ; He envies those that fawning stray To glean the banquet floor : With dainty morsels they are fed, While he must sup on broken bread. With early sun the trump he hears Sound an alarum to his ears, And trampling horses neigh : Letters from Urban, Pope of Rome, Invite his brother-king to come To feast and tourney gay : The court on steeds and chariots ride, And he the fool must run beside. 14 ROBERT KING OF SICILY. Launch'd are the painted gallies now, The foam is dash'd beneath the prow, In air the streamers play : With sparkling oars and swelling sails They swiftly skim before the gales, And cleave the watery way : Rhegium receives them from the main, The fool still follows in the train. The seeming king before him went In cloth of gold magnificent On courser white as snow ; The golden stirrups glisten'd bright, The saddle was with velvet dight, With pearls the saddle-bow : All Italy was glad to see A monarch of such majesty. Foot-sore and sad, the fool was fain To climb the hill and trudge the plain, The dust his visage hides ; And oft he turns a rueful eye Where, as it seems, himself on high In regal pageant rides; Now sound the clashing streets of Rome, And thousand voices shout, " They come !" ROBERT KING OF SICILY. 1 5 Midst ranks of knights in gilded mail They pass, and roses thick as hail Fall on them from on high : From balcons rich, with arras hung, Leans many a lady fair and young With pleasure in her eye ; The Pope with mitre and red pall, And many a scarlet cardinal, Await them in the palace hall } Or ere the feast is serv'd, the king Would break a lance amid the ring, The lists enclose the train ; In armour clasp'd he mounts his horse, Knight after knight beneath his force Is tumbled on the plain ; Fair dames with laurel wreathe his head, The sun is set, the feast is spread. Flouted and jeer'd the motley man From forth the Pope's wide palace ran, A shouting crowd pursu'd 5 From street to street he cours'd along, And found at distance from the throng A place of solitude : He looks, and by the moon-beam clear Discerns a holy chapel near 16 ROBERT KING OF SICILY. The door half open'd stands ; he flies With trembling knees and streaming eyes, And at the altar bends ; His veins glow hot ; his pulses beat ; An organ pipe breathes soft, and sweet, A vocal strain ascends ; " En ! superbos Deus stravit, u Humiles et exaltavit." I ween king Robert knows full well What tones are they that warbling swell The vaulted roofs around ; And on his cheek there hangs a tear Of meek remorse and pious fear ; While, as the floating sound In lessening murmurs distant dies, Prostrate before the cross he cries ; " Lord ! I am vile as sinners be !" " Honor is none but comes from thee : " Lord ! to thy fool give grace ! " Unworthy I the crown of king : " Yet to thy fool thy pity bring, " In this same holy place ; " Unworthy I to kneel in prayer, " Yet, Lord ! thy fool in pity spare !" ROBERT KING OF SICILY. 17 The chancel lay in the dim moonshine ;— • Who could that sudden light divine From garments like glistering snow? A golden diadem on his head, With cheek as the clear vermillion red, And locks of amber flow, God's angel stood 'gainst the chapel-wall: The same who sat in Robert's hall, And rode to Urban's festival. ) He by the hand the monarch took : His golden wings he rustling shook, And glided smooth and fast, Above the ground were hung his feet; So with the king along the street Through yielding air he pass'd 5 And Robert sat in Urban's hall, And shar'd his brother's festival. [ 18 ] €fje €mgmag* X air Aglae languish'd, fair Aglae sigh'd, For the next morning sun must behold her a bride : Yet he tarried still in the far holy land, To whom she in secret had plighted her hand. With proud cavalcade in a bridegroom's array The monarch of Hungary rode on his way : When a knight in black armour came spurring from far, Whose helm and whose corselet were hewn in the war. Together they rode, and with converse beguil'd The forest's dark track, and the heath's dreary wild; When the sky was o'ercast, and the torrents of rain Dash'd the hoofs of the steeds as they trampled the plain* From the king's silken vest fell the heavy drops fast, And he shrunk from the rush of the winterly blast; " The wind through the sky drives the rain and the rack, " Why brought you not, monarch! your house on your [back?" ILT o>:'s POEM§ = - THE ENIGMAS. 19 The king mus'd in wonder ; a flood cross'd the way, And his high plume was wet with the dash of the spray : " When you next cross the flood, oh improvident king ! " Forget not the bridge of your safety to bring." The monarch amaz'd, on his road swiftly sped, But long was the way, and he hunger'd for bread ; The knight the contents of his wallet resign'd; — " Your father and mother why left you behind ?" Now the emperor's palace rose stately to view From the high-beaten track when the stranger withdrew : u A net I have spread, which if rent I forsake, " But if it be whole on my journey I take." The monarch smil'd pondering — then urg'd his best speed, O'er the clattering drawbridge he pranc'd on his steed : Now plac'd in a chair by the emperor's throne, He made the strange words of the warrior known. Polentius mus'd long with considerate eyes ; " My son; thy mysterious companion was wise; " The house is a cloak which the rain had defied, u The bridge is a forder to fathom the tide : " Thy father and mother the bread and the wine, " The props of existence whereon we recline ; [aghast, "For the net — " when he paus'd ; and up-starting To the chamber of Aglae hastily pass'd. 20 THE ENIGMAS. But the chamber was void ; and the king in dismay At the tidings ungrateful turn'd back on his way : The fugitive damsel had yielded her hand To the knight who return'd from the far holy land [21 ] Sfjeotio.s'iu.g tlje BHnti <£mpe?ot. It was ordained by this emperor, that the cause of any injured person should instantly be heard, on his tolling a bell, that was hung in an open court of the palace. Xh e bell of justice in dead of night Sounded with iron tongue ; The watchman cross'd him in sudden fright, And long on the startling echo hung ; The emperor, rouz'd at the sullen sound, Lay rolling his sightless orbs around. Through the palace 'twas doubt and wonder all, And the silence fled away ; The menials throng'd through the rustling hall With looks and whispers of blank dismay : For lo ! not a mortal wight was foimd To tell of that strange, untimely sound. 22 THEODOSIUS THE BLIND EMPEROR. They stood where the cord descending swung, But not a soul was there ; Yet again the bell with its iron tongue, Toll'd to the stillness of midnight air ; Upwards and downwards the bell-rope slid With a rattling sound, but the cause was hid. They deem that the gripe of a dead man's hand Has whirl'd the bell on high ; And with lifted tapers they trembling stand, And bend up the turret a fearful eye ; The cord by a serpent was wreath'd around, Who dragg'd the rope with that startling sound. The emperor ponder'd with brows of care The tale that with laughter came ; He bade a swift slave ascending bear The torch that redden'd with flaring flame ; And lo ! a foul toad with bloated breast Crouch'd panting within that serpent's nest. 'Twas not in vain that the serpent's call Affrighted the midnight sky : 'Twas not in vain that with shattering fall The venom'd usurper was hurl'd from high s Remains that the great event we tell Which blind Theodosius next befell. THEODOSIUS THE BLIND EMPEROR, 23 His face was turn'd to the summer air That breath'd from the river below ; And wafted abroad his long, loose hair, And freshen'd his cheek with its balmy flow, As reclin'd on his noon-day couch he lay, And bask'd in the sunshine's golden ray 5 When slow up the palace-wall without That serpent soft-sliding clomb ; No watchman was near with his warning shout To ring alarm through the echoing dome : It chanc'd the blind man alone reclin'd, His sole companions the sun and wind. And in at the casement that serpent crept In many a surgy fold ; And her twining length, that stately swept, Glisten'd with jet, and green, and gold ; Now the emperor felt his life-blood freeze, For the snake had coil'd her round his knees The serpent her slacken'd folds withdrew, And the loose unravellings spread ; But the emperor's pulse more tremulous grew And back he shrank with recoiling head ; For the snake, with smooth and slippery trace, Came gliding athwart his sightless face. 24 THEODOSIITS THE BLIND EMPEROR. He felt, with a shock of dumb surprise, The touch of some gem unknown, From the serpent's mouth, laid soft on his eyes, As it were a jacynth or beryl stone ; Impatient now in his griping hold, He struggled to grasp the serpent's fold : But the wily snake elapsing fled, Like the wa\e of a sliding stream ; And the emperor rais'd his hasty head, And he saw the snake's departing gleam : For the scales had fall'n that film'd his sight, And his eyes roll'd glad in the blaze of light. [25] €&e Mnigftt antx tfje £iotw -An selmts to the forest bent his way, Hunting the fallow deer and woodland boar $ Now on the yellow verge of sinking day, His eyes the sunset's lingering light explore ; When sudden from the glen a sullen roar Startles his ear; he checks his courser's rein, And grasps his lance, and hollows to his train. Forth from the tangled brake a lion came, But limping slow as maim'd by painful wound; His eyes emitted a dull, deadish flame, He trail'd his mane dishevell'd on the ground, And mutter'd low a smother'd, moaning sound $ He crouch'd before the knight, who fearless gaz'd, And mark'd the beast's torn foot with effort rais'd. 26 THE KNIGHT AND THE LION. Touch'd with mild pity sprang to earth the knight, And dauntless grasp'd the beast's extended paw ; By the last gleam of eve's departing light A fest'ring thorn implanted deep he saw ; That thorn his hands with skilful pressure draw, And staunch the blood that trickles from the wound With healing herbs which in that glade he found. Now moons have wax'd and wan'd ; but ne'er again The knight for pastime sought the forest shade ; For he consorted with a robber train, And on the flock and herd and trav'ller prey'd, If so his ruin'd fortunes he might aid ; Thus outlaw'd he became ; till compass'd round With ambush 'd archers, he was seiz'd and bound. Glad was Eraclian in his wrathful mood, And from th' imperial throne the judgment gave ; That to the wildest monster of the wood The outlaw should be thrown ; nor might he crave Of mercy aught, for deeds of honour brave In time long past : with calmly daring eye Anselmus listen'd, and prepar'd to die. Rome's ample circus was with thousands throng'd ; Stood naked in the midst the unarnrd knight ; A deaf and distant roar the dread prolong 'd Of that suspense; and each with straining sight [might Look'd towards the den ; the death-doom'd man his. Rouz'd to th' encounter ; quell'd each weak alarm, Pois'd his clench'd hand, and rais'd his sinewy arm. THE KNIGHT AND THE LION. 2j Wide burst the sounding den ; the lion came Fierce with a bound, and roaring like the sea ; Bristling his mane, his hungry eyes all flame ; The knight firm propp'd upon his bended knee Awaited him ; and all believ'd that he His nervous arm within that throat of death Would desperate thrust; all gaz'd with stifled breath* Oh what a shout was there ! — the lion stopp'd, As paralysed by some enchanting spell ; At once the terrors of his mane he dropp'd, And at his victim's feet meek-fawning fell : It was the lion in the forest dell Whom he had serv'd, that now before him lay, And murm'ring lick'd his feet in sportive play. Amaz'd Eraclian beckon'd from his throne, And with the knight the lion follow'd tame ; The emperor, when that wond'rous tale was known, Felt at his heart the glow of gen'rous shame ; Applauding shouts the pardon giv'n proclaim; " The beasts shall teach me mercy ; live, and be " What once thou wert; so thank my clemency/' [28] €&e WtVtlg fcrt>o tattfy S^en. In a rock was his mansion beside the hoarse main Whose dashings at distance were heard : But the prince's soft limbs were ungall'd by a chain, He was serv'd on the knee by the Paladin train, And was gay as the cage-prison'd bird. At his birth the physicians were met in debate, And his horoscope earnestly read ; The planets were adverse ; and sad they relate Their fearful conjunction, whose menacing fate Now glares o'er his infantine head. " From his cradle three lustres must dark pass away, " And the sun must be hid from his eyes ; w If before he encounter the splendor of day, " The clear orbs of vision depriv'd of their ray " Shall in vain seek the light of the skies." THE DEVILS WHO CATCH MEN. 29 A mountain was hollo w'd, a cavern delv'd wide With arches and pillars of stone ; A fire, that with cedars blaz'd fragrant, defied The damps that arose from the salt ocean-tide, And with far-streaming radiancy shone. The ivory couches with purple were dight, The walls hung with arras around ; There hawks, hounds, and horses, were pictur'dto sight, And woods waving green, and clear streams purling And huntsmen their horns seem'd to sound, [bright, Beaten gold all the ceiling's arch'd surface o'erlaid; Birds warbled in cages of gold; And as if by some minstrel's invisible aid, With musical echo soft instruments play'd As the passing waves outwardly roll'd. The columns of stone, that encircled the cave, Were fraught with philosophy's lore ; In letters of gold did a sage there engrave The words of the wise, and the deeds of the brave, The feats and the virtues of yore. The prince with a lute the slow moments beguil'd, Or the target was pierc'd by his lance ; With silent observance the governor smil'd At the restless aspirings that wrought in the child, And that flash'd in the roll of his glance. 30 THE DEVILS WHO CATCH MEN. Hark ! timbrels re-echo and dulcimers ring ; Songs of triumph float distant in air : The Paladins enter; the queen and the king : Their smiles, their embraces, their blessings they bring, The prince to his people they bear. The sun shines in gold ; the broad heavens are blue ; The waves green as emerald roll ; The city's bright pinnacles dazzle his view> The crowds thronging thick as the stars or the dew Oppress and bewilder his soul. O'er the vast, floating multitude wanders his gaze, O'er the banners, the shields, and the spears : Recover'd at length from his dazzled amaze, The gifts which his parents have brought he surveys, And perplex'd in his rapture appears. There vestments of silver, and vestments of gold, Are gorgeously pil'd on the plain: In heaps, pearls and rubies and sapphires are roll'd, And pictures, and statues of exquisite mould, His choice with their beauties detain. There stood gilded chariots, and coursers snow-white With trappings of crimson array'd: There mail rich-emblaz'd glitter'd keen on his sight, And helms in the pomp and resplendence of light, Crested dark with the plume's nodding shade. THE DEVILS WHO CATCH MEN. 31 Here linger'd the youth ; but he lifted his eyes On the throng that assembled around : When sudden he starts with a glance of surprise, His blood circles fast, and his breath panting flies, And the hollow helm clanks on the ground. He whispers confus'd in the governor's ear, " What creatures, I pray thee, are those ? " More soft ev'n than boys their mild features appear, " They touch me with joy, yet they thrill me with fear, " And my blood with strange ardency glows." His age-silver'd head then Ydronicus shook, The youth's hand he earnestly press'd ; " Oh ! fatal they are ; shun that soul-thrilling look, " Which already thy gaze with its venom hath strook, " Lest the poison sink deep in thy breast. " They with jewels are deck'd, and in scarlet are drest, " And their ringlets are wreath 'd like the vine : " Their shape is the fir-tree's; the swan's is their breast, " Full many a wretch have their eyes robb'd of rest, " Oh let not that folly be thine ! " But, listen, my prince ! I will tell thee their name, " And thy pulse will beat fearfully then; " Thyself shalt my wisdom and caution proclaim ; " Oh ! shun as the plague, as the sword, as the flame, " The Devils, the snarers of men!" 32 THE DEVILS WHO CATCH MEN. Adonias was mute — but his eyes linger'd yet On the damsels that smiling stood by : Their enamouring glances with his frequent met ; His feet seem'd entangled as 'twere with a net, And his heart struggled soft with a sigh. " My father ! my father ! the gems and the gold " Some other unenvied may bear: " But thus let the choice of my fancy be told ; " Oh ! give me the Devils whom there I behold, " Those Devils who men can ensnare! [33] (©iron nje punter* Away the nimble-footed hind Had flown, as if on wings of wind ; The foaming dogs, with chiming cry, Trac'd her steps both low and high ; Up the mountain's verdant swell, Down the dark and briery dell ; Through brake and lawn, and forest deep, With winding track, and circling sweep. Full far the fugitive was gone, Yet dogs and steeds toil'd panting on ; Though many a hunter thrown behind Stood listening to the hollow wind, That wafted sounds from distant hill, Of horns, and hounds, and voices shrill. Beneath a breezy-whispering-wood The breathless Giron lonely stood ; His horse neglected brouz'd the tree 5 To the green sod he stoop'd his knee * D 34 GIRON THE HUNTER. For there a brook was seen to pass Like crystal through the matted grass; But ere his lips had touch'd the stream, A shadow cross'd the watery gleam. Starting he turn'd; behind him stood An ancient man of aspect good; Whose stature's super-human mould Was large and lofty to behold. Of mildest azure was his eye ; His cheek of health's incarnate dye ; White as the snow his beard and hair Flow'd on his breast, and wav'd in air : Fresh and fair his garments green; Buskins on his feet were seen Of the panther's velvet hide, Mottled in its furry pride : His lifted hands appear'd to hold A goblet round of rubied gold ; A sparkling beverage seem'd to swim Mantling o'er its ample brim. Calm the apparition stood; Perhaps the genius of the wood ; And with smile and look benign, Gave the cool and fragrant wine. With joy did Giron quaff the bowl, And freshness flow'd upon his soul. GIRON THE HUNTER, 35 But when that gracious vision sought The goblet which his bounty brought; Then did the hunter's eager eyes Devour th' inestimable prize ; He grasp 'd the cup with gesture rude, And frown'd in stern ingratitude. When beneath him rock'd the murmuring ground, And that aged form was seen to sink ; The sod clave apart with an earthquake sound, And Giron reel'd on the giddy brink ; A sudden whirlwind came roaring by, And clouds of darkness o'ershadow'd the sky ; And the hunter fled, and his starting hair Uprose in the horror of wild despair ; And the golden cup, that with rubies shone, Was chang'd in his grasp to a dusky stone. Full many a youth hath since been seen To sit beneath that forest green ; Listening the swell of voices shrill, And horns that rang from distant hill; And he hath sipp'd the crystal stream, But no shade cross'd the watery gleam ; No friendly sprite refreshment bore, That ancient man was seen no more. [36] €&e $tt of toigtation. A traveller fled through a forest drear, His breath was quick-drawn in the pain of fear ; An unicorn close on his path pursu'd, Whose tramp was heard through the crashing wood. The trav'ller ran with the speed of wind, But still as he ran he look'd behind : Before him a yawning precipice lay, And falling he dropp'd from the light of day. From the chasm's dark hollow a tree upgrew, That was bare of leaves but lofty to view : In the tangling branches the traveller hung, But around the trunk a dragon clung. The glimmer of day-light began to peep, And illumined with horror that cavern deep : Then could the panic-struck travller see Two nibbling mice at the root of the tree. fainted by SJirJ . Sjujraved ._'?{*' .>ai4/- JUa/ jM&yutia. cAaa&n /./ ;///~i /u/ j//ct *>ca/t/ /o-/->. //?e ^legitimate d§om xi o m e' s empress pale on her death-bed lay, And her lips and forehead were cold as clay 5 " Oh emperor ! hear — three sons are mine, " But one of the three alone is thine." Eufemian dropp'd the scalding tear, And his brow was bath'd in the dew of fear 5 " Thy crime, Theodora, shall pardon gain, " But speak! that my true-born son may reign." The empress gaz'd with a ghastly eye, And her bosom heav'd a deep-drawn sigh ; But a mother's love was strong in death, And speechless she yielded up herlbreath. On his death-bed soon Rome's emperor lay, And his lips and forehead were cold as clay : " Jerusalem's king shall fill my throne, " Till that my true-born son be known. 44 THE LEGITIMATE SON. Jerusalem's king the mandate gave ; They raise the corse from its new-made grave $ With arrows and bows the sons must stand, And the sceptre shall gift the truest hand. The princes the shrouded monarch see At distance bound to a plantane-tree : With steady aim the eldest stands, And the bowstring twangs in his nervous hands. In the forehead cold of the breathless corse The arrow quivers with cleaving force ; Then forth from the throng the second came, And wary stood with an archers aim. He drew the bow with rebounding twang, Through the whistling air the arrow sang ; As the light'ning swift, that bearded dart Was lodg'd in the lifeless monarch's heart. Jerusalem's king then turn'd to know Why the youngest prince came loitering slow; But with sobs and cries that rent the ear That youthful prince stood weeping near. The darts and bow to his grasp were giv'n, But his eyes in horror were rais'd to heav'n; He trampled the bow and he snapp'd the dart, " Ah ! shall I pierce my father's heart?' THE LEGITIMATE SON. 45 Jerusalem's king from his throne stept down, On the youngest's brows he piac'd the crown ; " Untouch 'd shall the corse of thy father be " By the hand of his son ; for thou art he !" [46] €|)c $3ta$tn $?mage* -t u l l in the beam of noon The brazen statue stood ; A fillet bound its brow ; And on that fillet there was written, " Strike !" And that exhorting word With misdirected aim Not seldom was obey'd ; The brazen head e'en like a helm appeared Bruis'd with indenting blows ; but never vet Had blest the striker's hopes; But never yet disclos'd Diamonds or rubies or the treasur'd gold. A clerk of subtlest lore Was Tirius ; and he stood beneath the sun, And on the statue fix'd his gaze intent : The statue pointing stretcrrd Its brazen finger downwards to the ground; And the long shadow of that finger lay At distance from the lofty pedestal. THE BRAZEN IMAGE. 4 7 He waited till the streets of Rome Slept in the moonshine's stilly light ; Then to the well-mark'd spot He took his lonely way : And with an axe he brake the ground ; and lo I A hollow cavity ; with ample stair Of marble, and a balustrade of gold. Down many a slippery stair He step by step descends ; His lamp reflected sheds A pale, but steady light ; Still round and round he winds The mazy breadth ofvast descent ; Still deeper, deeper still, He descends down the spacious abyss ; Down the utter hollo wness Of the secret and unfathomable earth : Still smooth and broad the stair In slippery marble shone, And the balustrade was gold; But so long he wound his deepening way, That his head now giddily swam, And his limbs ach'd weary now. Behind he look'd with upward glance, And, like a ladder reaching to the clouds, Discern'd the marble stair, With its balustrade of gold : 48 THE BRAZEN IMAGE. Downward he bent his view ; No end ; no change ; no resting-place of sight; But the marble, broad descent Winding for ever around and around With its balustrade of gold. The sounds of his sliding feet Were now less audible ; For he with breathless fear perceiv'd The echoes of his heart beat loud ; His dying lamp shed now A feeble and tremulous gleam : Now darkness fell upon him, and he stood. — Fields, and the light of day ! The sunny blaze of azure noon ! — A river broad roll'd limpid in his view ; From bank to bank immense On silver arches stretch 'd A bridge with pinnacles of gold That gleam'd as they were fire : And on that bridge gigantic horsemen stood : The horses and the riders were of gold; And in the calm, meridian sun Shone their burnish'd images With radiancy serene. THE BRAZEN IMAGE. 49 Tirius has past the bridge ; But turning with a greedy hand to touch Those golden images, there came a sound As of a rushing hailstorm, mingled loud With thunder-peals ; and that vast bridge uprose In perpendicular horror ; and the stream Dividing, there came forth a giant man Who liv'd, although of brass ; He smote the waters with a brazen mace, And straight the sun was darkness. On the spot Where first he brake the solid earth Tirius astounded stood : The statue in the moonlight as before Shone, but some hand had rent The fillet from its brow. [50] €J)c £)uftc'£ £ cagt? X h e moon had sunk in clouds ; a storm was nigh, And eddy leaves came scattering on the blast ; The merchant round him turn'd an anxious eye, As yet scarce half the forest length was past ; While mingling with the gloom a deeper dread, The passing thunder roii/d in murmurs o'er his head. The steed shook wild his ruffled mane ; around The oak-trees old rock'd roaring in the gale; And pines their branches stoop'd with crashing sound; Drear clos'd the darkness on the lightning pale ; When through the forest-breaks a light from high Shone distant, as it seenrd, a watch-tower in the sky. * The adventure of Bernage, in the 3-2d tale of the Contes ct Nouveiles de Marguerite de Falois Reine de Navarre, is bor- rowed from this story : with the addition of the Lady's hum- ble penitence and consequent restoration to favor. It will be seen that I have somewhat refined upon the original gest. THE DUKE'S FEAST. 51 With livelier cheer the traveller wound the glade, Till climbing slow the dark hill's hanging steep, Th' illuminated turrets he survey'd [deep ; Whose light had glimmerd through those forests Beneath a stately castle's walls he stood, [wood. That, flank'd with lofty towers, o'ertopp'd th' inferior Beside the gate was hung a brazen horn ; The pediment was grav'd with golden scroll; " Here food and shelter wait the wretch forlorn, " Who owns the treasure of a grateful soul." The merchant to his lips that horn applied, The hollow mountain-glens re-echoed far and wide. Straight quivering streaks illume the granite walls, From many a gliding torch reflected bright ; Shrill ring the gates ; expand the tapestried halls, And blooming pages guide his steps aright; With busy hands disrobe the way-worn guest, And lave in tepid streams, and clothe in downy vest. Thence o'er a smooth mosaic floor he treads, Of greenest marble is the vast saloon; A crystal lamp its chequering lustre sheds, As o'er some valley shines the shadowy moon; The flgur'd arras waves, and on his sight Sudden a presence-room bursts in a blaze of light. 52 the duke's feast. His foot on cushion rais'd of cloth of gold, One sate beneath a purple canopy : His clustering locks in raven blackness roll'd, Pale was his hollow cheek, like fire his eye 5 In cloak of ermin'd crimson he was clad ; But rueful was his mien ; his very smile was sad. Knights in gay green appear'd; and clad in rose Sate ladies young with pearl-ybraided hair; The duke Onulphus from his throne arose, And plac'd the merchant in a golden chair : Full opposite the dutchess thron'd was seen ; Soft was her pensive smile, and chaste her modest mien. But oh ! how tempting fair ; her hazel eye Swam dark in beaming languishment of hue ; Her smooth and jetty brows were arch'd on high, Her shading lashes length en'd on the view ; The crimson of her cheek rose mantling warm, A lucid robe scarce veil'd her lightly rounded form. None may that bosom's orb'd luxuriance tell, As marble firm, and dazzling as the snow ; The gazer's heart, while soft it rose and fell, Beat with a like pulsation to and fro : And oh ! the moisture of the scarlet lip That clos'd these pearly teeth, it had been heaven to sip. the duke's feast. 53 Apart she sat, distinguish'd from the rest, A violet mantle from her shoulders flow'd ; A zone of diamonds grasp'dher throbbing breast, And on her tapering fingers rubies glow'd ; Gems quiver'd in her ears ; and round her head Gather'd in braiding gold the jetty tresses spread. Here gaz'd Basilius ; nor the lady's gaze Disdain'd to melt and mingle with his own; At once his blood was kindled in a blaze, His pulses throbb'd with tumults yet unknown ; Flush'd was his cheek, and humid were his eyes, And every nerve was thrill'd with trembling ecstacies. But still, whene'er he turn'd his eyes aside, The duke's stern glance would seem to read his soul; i Then through his heart would icy terrors glide, Till once again her gaze electric stole On his attracted gaze, and once again [vein. The guilty flames were shot through every shivering Now to the trumpet's silver sound behold The banquet serv'd; the golden beakers shine; The viands rich are pil'd in massive gold, Reddens in golden cups the sparkling wine ; The merchant swims in bliss; the duke demands A health, and courteous gives the goblet to his hands. 54 the duke's feast. Then smiling bends the guest his wishful eyes To that fair dutchess, when the goblet falls From his slack grasp ; what sudden horrors rise I What ghastly spectacle his sight appalls ! In her white hand she held a human skull, A page stood by with wine, and fill'd it to the full. She bows, and lifts it to her smiling lips, But her smooth brow is ruffled by a frown ; Tears drop into the draught; and, while she sips, O'er her high-heaving breast run trickling down. The merchant on Onulphus turn'd his look ; Again that eagle eye his breast with lightning strook, 111 far'd the traveller through that horrid feast, Though perfumes breath'd, and music warbled round t Full glad was he when all the banquet ceas'd, Fain would he fly from that enchanted ground 5 But now those blooming boys the torches bear, And his reluctant steps ascend the jasper stair. The plumes of ostrich nodded o'er the bed That stood by silver eagles propp'd on high ; The velvet curtains glow'd with deepest red ; And wav'd the walls with pictur'd tapestry ; Large as the life appear'd those shadows bright, Their stately forms mov'd slow to every breeze of night. the duke's feast. 55 There from the book of Troy was wrought the tale, Here Helen smil'd at Menelaus' side : There look'd she back, while far the bellying sail In flight convey'd her o'er the rolling tide : Here her white arms enfold th' adulterous boy, And there she wailing sees the gathering flames of Troy. There too the mighty Agamemnon bled Within the marble bath, by ruifian sword ; Here was the feast by Clytemnestra spread, The gay adulterer grae'd the regal board : There his good blade the stern Orestes drew, And o'er a mother's corse his veiling mantle threw. His arms in musing thought the merchant folds, And,touch'd with sadness, views the storied walls: When sudden he a gilded niche beholds, As with slant gleam the lamp reflected falls ; Within the niche two glooming tapers burn, Whose flickering light shows dim an alabaster urn. Who may the stranger's shuddering anguish paint, When in that vase he look'd, and saw enclosed A human heart ! — with rising horrors faint He sought his couch ; and lay, but not repos'd ; When clang'd the doors; and lo ! the duke — who led That lovely dame, her locks dishevell'd from her head, 56 the duke's feast. That heart, with myrrh and cassia balm'd, he took, And to her lips with courteous mockery rais'd ; That heart she kiss'd, while he with searching look On her flustrd cheek unalterably gaz'd : Then, while her sobbing breast rose heaving fast, [pass'd. The vase was clos'd, and they from forth the chamber Up sprang the traveler when the morning broke, And left the chamber with a beating breast; The duke encountering sinil'd, and gracious spoke, And ask'd if sweet his fare, if soft his rest; Basilius bow'd the knee ; but frankly said, How that his breast was scar'd, and terrified his bed. Stern smil'd his host, and led him where a room Was rich with painting, gold, and ebony : Without the casements roses wreath'd their bloom, And woodbines droop'd in cluster'd canopy : Its blossom'd boughs the myrtle green entwin'd, And orange-trees with sweets impregnated the wind. Rare needle-work the colour'd hangings wove, The silken scene did loyal loves display : Knights in their helmets ^ore the gage of love, Or at the feet of damsels courteous lay : But all was stilly gloom ; what seem'd a bed Rose underneath an arch, with sable pall o'erspread. THE DUKES FEAST. 57 Unseen the harp is touch'd ; the whilst they taste The luscious fruit, and drink metheglin sweet; Slow to the merchant's thought the moments waste, Till rose the duke in silence from his seat ; That sable pall he rais'd, and pointing stood ; The azure couch blush 'd red — it was the stain of blood ! Then pray'd the trembling merchant to depart, The gorgeous misery sicken'd on his brain ; The mystic drinking-skull ; th' embalmed heart, The purple horror of the secret stain! — " Lo ! here," Onulphus cried, " my bridal bower ! " And here my consort clasp'd her guilty paramour. " Like thee my guest, he caught the roving glance " Of Rosimund, and lur'd her to her shame; " I saw ; I found them in their sinful trance, " And quench 'd in blood the barb 'ro us ingrate's flame ; " It is the will of heav'n that I should be " The still-avenging scourge of her inconstancy. " This carbuncle that on my finger glows " Was once a living serpent's precious eye : " Thus did an Arab sage his night's repose u Requite, of necromantic potency : " For still, when woman's faith would go astray, " This modest jewel pales its bright and sanguine ray. 58 THE DUKE S FEAST. * And still, whene'er her thoughts to vice incline, " That cup is brought to med'cine her offence ; " And tears of rage then mingle with her wine, " Would they "were chang'd to tears of penitence I " I may not dare, till she be chaste and true, " So warn'd by holy dreams, remit the penance due. u Now go in peace !" he said, and clasp'd him round With courteous arms ; the gates unfolding rang : A barb with golden bit there paw'd the ground, The grateful merchant to the saddle sprang : Pensive he left the castle-walls ; but thence He bore a wiser heart, and firmer innocence, CJjiomara, a l&onoorama. When the Gauls of Galatia were subdued by the consul Man- lius, rather more than a century and a half before Christ, Chiomara, the wife of Ortiagon, chief of the Tolisthoboii, was taken prisoner in the battle of Olympus, and carried to Ancyra. The centurion to whom she was entrusted did vio- lence to her person; and then offered to release her from captivity, in case she should procure a ransom. The time, the place, and the sum of money were agreed on, as well as the number of those, two only, who should convey it. Through the intervention of a faithful slave found among the centurion's prisoners, her friends were apprized of the condition of her liberation. Two of them, on the night ap- pointed, brought in gold the value of a talent, and gave it to the centurion to weigh, who had anxiously waited for them with his captive. Whilst his thoughts were engaged with the gold, she commanded her ransomers to stab him to the heart. They obeyed : his head was then severed from his body, and being wrapt up in her robe by Chiomara, was carried to her husband Ortiagon in the place of his retreat, and thrown on the ground before him, in proof of the pu- nishment with which she had avenged her violated chastity. Dr. Gillies' s History of the World from Alexander to Augustus. [61 ] untiap aborning* It is the Sabbath morn : The landscape smiles Calm in the sun ; and silent are the hills And vallies, and the blue serene of air. The sea scarce trembles to the rippling gale, Bright in tranquillity. The vanish 'd lark Breaks faint the silence, and disturbs it not. Oh, native isle belov'd ! by rounding waves Bosom'd remote, and hallow'd from the world ! What needs the dimly purpled light that glows Through imag'd glass, or what the measur'd chaunt Of monkish strains to the deep organ's peal, To rouse devotion ? when thy clifts resound The wave's mild murmur, and thy thickets green Ring with the song of birds ? when flowers in dew Exhale their fragrance, and the sense is cheer'd By air and sunshine? While fanatic groans, Breath'd from a gloomy spirit, rise to Him Who spread this verdure o'er the fields, who bade These violets spring, and lighted up the sun, 68 REFLECTION ON Be mine with silence of the heart to praise His mercies, and adore his name of love. Hail, scene of beauty ! scene of Sabbath calm ! Thou greenest earth ! thou blue and boundless heaven ! Thou sea, reposing like a stilly lake ! Hail ye, that blend your silence with the soul ! Around, the unimaginable God Moves visible to faith : but unconfus'd With these, the works and w onders of his hand : These intercept his presence ; not reveal; He sojourns not in clouds, nor is the light His essence : mingled with the common mass Of elements, as ancient sages dream 'd ; God and his creatures one. Beyond the scope Of sense, the incommunicable mind Dwelleth ; and they, who with corporeal eye Adoring nature's beauteous forms, discern Intelligence in colours and in shades ; In sunlight, and the glimmer of the moon; Who deem their worship holy, when they hear A God in empty winds, and in the sounds Of waters — they have bow'd th' idolatrous knee Before material atoms ! these are his, But not himself : suspended by his breath They are, and at his voice may cease to be. Away from us these mystic vanities, This heathen's wisdom, and this poet's creed: Away from us the morbid sympathy That blends itself with rocks and trees ; that stoops SUNDAY MORNING. 69 To fellowship with brutes ; that finds a soul In every bird that flits along the sky, A life in every leaf and every flower. Be thine the adoration; thine the praise, And love, and wonder, thou, whose name is One ! And be thy Sabbath holy to thyself. [70] Retrospection. Is there who, when long years have past away, Revisits in his manhood's prime the spot Where stray d his careless boyhood, nor in trance Of recollection lost, feels silent joy Flow in upon his heart ? Whatever cares Enthrall his weary spirit, let him feel The gale upon his cheek, that whispering waves The well-known tuft of trees, and dimples slow The recollected stream, thought's busy train Shall glance like pictured shadows o'er his mind : Each airy castle of enthusiast youth Shall dawn upon his fancy, like the towers That sparkle in some forest of romance: Each shade of circumstance that mark'd the scene Of young existence, touch'd with fairy tint Sheds beauty not its own: that life of hope And generous expectation, when the man RETROSPECTION. 7 1 Was teeming in the boy, and the young mind, Pleas'd with its own exertion, acted o'er Each future impulse, and put forth the germs Of native character. It cannot be — Unless his heart is deaden'd by the touch Of that mere worldliness, which hugs itself In a factitious apathy of soul ; Unless, in vain and vacant ignorance, He wondering smiles at those high sympathies, Those pure, unworldly feelings, which exalt Our nature o'er the sphere of actual things; Which lend the poet's gaze its exstacy, And bid the trembling note of music steal Tears down the listener's cheek; — it cannot be But his whole heart must soften and relent Amid these peaceful scenes; but the deep griefs Which time has stamp'd upon his furrow'd brow Must for a moment smooth their thoughtful trace; And ev'n the long remorse wild passion leaves, Rest from the goading of its secret sting. Scene of my boyish years ! I not disown These natural feelings. Let me rest awhile Here on this grassy bank ; beneath these elms Whose high boughs murmur with the leafy sound That sooth'd me when a child : when, truant-like, Of the dull chime that summon'd me afar Nought heeding, by the river-wave I lay, Of liberty enamour'd, and the Muse. As yon gray turrets rest in trembling shade ?2 RETROSPECTION. On its transparent depth, the days long past Press on awaken'd fancy; when, averse From sport, I wander'd on its loneliest banks, Where not a sound disturb'd the quiet air But such as fitly blends with silentness ; The whispering sedge — the ripple of the stream, Or bird's faint note : and not a human trace, Save of some hamlet-spire in woods immerst, Spake to the sight of earth's inhabiters. Then have I rush'd, prone from the topmost bank, And given my limbs to struggle with the stream, And midst those waters felt a keener life. How soft thy milky temperature of wave, Salubrious Thames! associate with delight Thy stream to thrilling fancy flows, when faint I languish in the sun-blaze; and with thee Ingenuous friendships, feats of liberty That reck'd not stern control, and gravely sweet The toils of letter'd lore, and the kind smile Of Him,* who, ev'n upbraiding, could be kind, * Of Mr. Savage, whose name must ever be associated with the blandi doctoresoi Horace, let me be permitted to indulge the rememhrance. His system of tuition was calculated to exem- plify the theory of the admirable Locke. He made instruction pleasant; and was therefore listened to and cbeyed on a prin- ciple of love. Should these insignificant pages ever meet his eye, he may not be displeased to find that The Muse attends him to the silent shade. I trust I shall be forgiven the excusable egotism , of paying this tribute of giatitude and respect to an elegant scholar, and most amiable man. RETROSPECTION. 73 On sooth'd remembrance throng. I would not feign A fond repining which I did not feel; I would not have the intermediate years Roll back to second infancy, nor live Again the life that haunts my memory thus With sweet sensations: for the simple child Is all unconscious of his pleasant lot; His little world, like man's vast universe, Is darken'd by its storms; and he, like man, Creates his own disquietudes and fears ; And oft with murmurings vain of discontent, Or bursts of idle passion, personates His future part; the character of man. No — 'tis the cant of mock misanthropy That dwells on childish pleasures ; which the child With light insensibility enjoys, Or rather scorns;" while on his eager view The future prospect opens, still in sight, Still ardently desir'd. The Power all-wise Alike to manhood and to infancy Has dealt the dole of pleasures and of pains ; And manhood has its toys ; its happy dreams ; Its gay anticipations, ev'n as youth. Not with a sigh of mournful, vain regret I visit these green haunts; this placid stream; But, while the scene to memory's retrospect Reflects th' illusive tint which fancy throws Upon the distant past, Hope too expands Her gilded prospects ; and the future smile ; 74 RETROSPECTION. Her gilded prospects : and the future smile; With colours indistinct, but beautiful As the dim clouds by gleams of daybreak ting'd Ere the red sun-rise paints the mountain's brow: I so am fram'djthat no depressing gloom Has power to damp my shaping energies ; But still, as when a child, my glance can dart Bright o'er the illumin'd future, and create Its own ideal world of hope and joy. [75] Anticipation* IVlosT pleasant is that rural dwelling-place; The eye that rests upon it is refresh'd By that cool, vernal greenness ; by that lawn Of level herbage, and those trees that high Rear their arch'd branches o'er the shaded roof. Not wild in savageness of solitude The circling scene ; yet sylvan quietude Breathes o'er those thickets, and those upland fields; 'Twixt whose declivities a stony brook Creeps bubbling through the tangled underwood, And gleams in distant sunshine : the dim smoke Of the far city with the landscape clear Not unharmonious blends. I love the sight ; Nor from the lake and forest would exclude The distant tower ; the clouds that vapoury rise From human habitations: they recall The busy interest of the living scene, 76 ANTICIPATION, Letters and arts, the social intercourse Of wit; the cheerful countenance of man. I would not bury in a hermit vale The feelings and the sympathies that link Man to his fellow, nor invoke the woods To breathe their language, and the senseless rocks To answer me, when I may hear the voice Of fellow-beings, and by woman's smile Soften the temper's harsh asperities. I would not sit recluse, till the worn mind Prey'd on itself, and cheerfulness was shunn'd As an unwish'd intruder. No — to me The city and the hum of multitudes Teem with a stronger interest of delight Than scenes, however fair, of solitude, Where trees are our companions, and the clouds Our sole intelligencers. Wherefore, then, Does the wreath'd woodbine round the cottage porch Seem lovely ? — 'tis the sacredness of home Invests it with a charm. I there may sit With children round my knees ; and find at length That for which long I sigh'd, the careless ease Of freedom, and an independant will. The turmoil of a tost and wandering life Has weigh'd upon my spirit : I have long'd To throw my limbs beneath the canopy Of some green oak, and at the hillock's foot View the clear brooklet gemm'd with sun-beams glide Among the stones of moss; for there the gaze ANTICIPATION. 77 Roves unconfin'd; midst mountains, woodlands, rocks, The broad horizon, and the rounding sea, Freedom is felt; but let the city-smoke Wreathe its dark vapour on the distant air. — And now at length the bliss of certain hope Preys on my thought like some unquiet thing : Yes, were I pent in murkiest walls : were mine To hear no music but the clash of wheels; Saw I no moonshine silvering the deep blue Of yonder arching heavens, but the dim light Of lamps that glimmer'd through the smoky mist; Were it my home, I there should centre all Of peace, of beauty, of content, of joy. Not that I lightly deem of nature's scenes, Which on the painter's eye, the poet's mind. Beam inspiration. He in whom I live A second life, child of my youth, shall know The scenes of nature ; and his foot shall climb The mountain, and shall print the ocean-shore: His ear shall drink the melody of birds, And flocks; of winds, and rills, and whispering boughs; His eye shall gaze the sunset's ruddy light, And grow enamour'd of the gliding moon; And thus to him shall solitude become A season of all pleasantness ; and thoughts Of virtue steal through beauty on his heart: And he shall bear within himself a spell To soothe each grief, and every bliss reiine ; A nameless and inseparable charm 78 ANTICIPATION. Of lonely joy. But never shall he find The cot a cloister ; nor the flowery field A wilderness.. From them he shall return With keener zest to scenes of varied life, And mingle with his kind. His reason thus Shall kindle, and his faculties discern Vice in its naked horror. Wisdom thus Shall be his guard ; and in the walks of men The lessons of experience shall be found, That midst the woods and fields are sought in vain. r h 79] ^pmpatDf, EXCITED BY INANIMATE NATURE. Kom antic is this valley : fair the scene Of rolling T*aves, and mountains faintly blue Beyond the crag, whose green declivity O'erhangs that cottage, by the fig-tree broad Inwreath'd, the vine-branch, and the climbing rose. Aloft the cypress and the sycamore Wave in the wind ; the leafy arbute spreads A snow of blossoms, and on every bough Its vermeil fruitage glitters to the sun. Yet in my bosom feelings undefin'd Of melancholy mingle, as along The grass-grown paths with branches intricate Of straggling shrubs, my tangled footstep slow Rustles ; though more luxuriant from neglect Blooms the deserted haunt ; and though the birds, That long unus'd to man's intruding step, 80 SYMPATHY. Scarce startle at ray presence, bend the spray With fluttering wing, and gurgle their sweet notes With forest wildness. Mother ! in these groves Were past thy childhood hours of happiness; And in this solitude thine eye hath lov'd To mark the cypress and the sycamore Wave in the wind : and therefore does the vine Wreathe its green tendrils, and the rose-tree bloom As in a desert : more from that still sense Of inward sadness than from outward things, Which in themselves are beautiful and gay : Fair is the scene, and to my thought it strikes A sadder sympathy, because so fair. [81] 2toeam& J. hat sage hath never laid on fancy's lap His charmed head, by sweet, ideal sounds Of melody entranc'd, who deems the sense Of conscious life in gentle slumber lost: Who yielding up himself to stealing sleep, As to a sad necessity, beholds Elate, the dawnlight's golden glimm'ring streak His curtain'd couch ; then springs impatient forth And boasts he feels existence. But to me Sweet is the trance of slumber : sweet th' escape From life's realities to fancy's world Of vision'd happiness : the throbs of hope, The smiles of rapture ; voices breathing love, Delightful shapes, and scenes of faery-laud ; To memory's pleasures and the fleeting joys That seem'd for ever flown ; but nightly wing Their backward flight, and hover o'er my brow. Such recognitions vivid and soul-felt, 82 DREAMS. The work of wonder-shaping intellect, Wake when the body sleeps. Xo day-dream wild On river-brink, beneath the beech-tree's gloom, Can with such clear distinctness to the soul Picture the groups of faded bliss ; or call Such light, aerial phantasies of joy To float around the brain. Thou lovely moon, Companion of my bed ! I would invoke Thy influence ; now from ocean's trembling verge Lift thy full orb, that reddening through the woods Gleams like a sanguine shield ; till slow it climbs, And lessens as it climbs ; and hovering high In the blue calm of ether, sheds abroad Its white effulgence. Through my heart I feel Thy influence" glide ; thy beams of snowy light Steal on mine eyes, and swimming slumber veils The consciousness of vision : then awake The eye and ear of fancy : then the soul Slides round the visionary sphere, more swift And wildly sportive, than the swallow's wing That hovering skims the surface of the stream. Oh happy ! whom imagination seeks Where'er he rests his head ; on feathery down, Or the hard pallet ; on the reeling deck Scourg'd by the waves ; or on the moonshine bank, Bower'd by the hazel's foliage, where the dew On primrose and on violet hangs its gems. The lover — no, reality itself Scarce equals that blest moment, when he grasps DREAMS. ss The hand so long with -held, that trembles soft Within his trembling pressure : when his eyes Drink in the lucid languishment of look That thrills the shivering nerves ; the mystic glance Avowing all unutterable things, And kindling hope to madness. Rise not yet, Unwelcome sun! for never shall he know So sweet a moment: never, though he clasp Possession, shall he feel an hour like that; When ev'n impossibility gave way At Fancy's bidding : and the sighs, the smiles, The murmur'd accents, and the glowing touch, Heard, felt, and seen, in slumber's ecstacy, Mingled the zest of mystery with bliss, The tumult of amazement ! These are thine, Creative slumber ! by thy magic power Consign'd to more than mortal blessedness The poet smiles ; and muses that the bough Of ivy wreathes his temples : that the car Triumphal bears him to the fane on high, Where sat Petrarca with his laurel crown: That blushing maidens roll their sparkling eyes To gratulate his coming : and entwine With ivory fingers myrtle and the rose, To shadow him with showers of paradise. By slumber's charm, whole oceans interpos'd Shrink, and are dry : the friend whom chance of war Had sever'd from thee, sits beside thee now, As in time past: the self-same oak above 84 DREAMS. Expands its dome of leaves ; the rivulet sends The same cool murmur to thy tranquil ear: And sweet it is, to stretch thy limbs in shade Beside the man thou lov'st, and feel the hours In blithest converse with the rivulet's haste Glide fast away. By secret sympathy The tender wife amid the city's crowds Perchance awhile forgotten, twines in sleep Around the fibres of the conscious brain; And the heart melts, to know that placid smile So fond and so confiding" : then the gloom Of midnight brightens : "tis the scene of home! — Beneath noon's azure arch the sunny field Spreads green its flowery grass ; he looks, he sees The graceful boy's clear eye, and forehead pure As very snow ; he sees his crisped locks Unravelling on the breeze their flaxen rings, The whilst his bounding feet elastic leap Among the meadow-lambs and hedge-row birds. The fellows of his pastime : lo ! again — The fire-side light reflects on rubied cheeks, And little hands are twin'd within his grasp ; The prattled tale, the scream of merriment, The babe's sweet laughter and half tottering step, The mother's gaze of modest ardency, Ail, all are present; and the well-known group Dawns like a vision on the slumbering man. Ch gentle sleep ! thy silent potency Can teach the happy keener happiness; DREAMS. 85 Can cheer the wretched with a glimpse of bliss. Nay — the dark grave is open'd ; and the form Of loveliness that slept, once more awakes ; And blooms, and smiles, and musically speaks, And fires the brain with such delirious joy, That oh ! it were felicity to dream, For ever thus, nor wake, unless in heaven. I <£iegieg of $ropettiu£. Detached translations from Propertius have appeared in different miscellany collections. Of these it may be sufficient to notice the Dream, elegantly imitated by Fenton ; and the three first Elegies of the first book freely translated by Mr. Preston, the translator of the Argonautics of Apollonius Rhodius, They find a place in the Poetical Register for 1804 ; the numbers, with some few exceptions of aukward construction, are singularly terse and finished. Bat the only considerable portion of Propertius in English, is a ver- sion of the first book, entitled Monobiblos, or Cynthia, 8vo. London, 1782. Of the classical neatness and accuracy of this version the reader needs not be told, when he learns that it is from the pen of the translator of Catullus. Propertius is in some respects confessedly the imitator of Tibullus :* yet we are told by Quintilian that there were not wanting those who preferred the former. Tibullus is more smooth and perspicuous ; more simple and easy in style ; but there is, perhaps, more of vivid reality, of spirit, and variety in Propertius. The softness of his more tender and impassioned pieces is contrasted with a vein of lively sarcasm and cutting satire; nor is he without that elevation of thought and vigour of expression, which approach to sub- limity. The following specimens may be considered as marking the * The order of time in which they flourished is registered by Ovid. Trist. iv. 9. Virgil I but beheld ; and greedy Fate Denied Tibullus' friendship, wish'd too late; He follow'd Gallus; next Propertius came; The last was I— the fourth successive name. progress which I had made towards a complete translation of his Elegies, but the experiment has inclined me to doubt its success. It is to be feared that the licentiousness of this poet must for ever exclude him from a complete reception into the class of English literature. His style is also fre- quently encumbered by a mass of mythological allusion ; which to a modern reader must inevitably carry an appear- ance of pedantry. This learned style is judiciously objected to by Mr. Dart, in the preface to hisTibullus,* as abhorrent from the nature of elegy ; and the comparative popularity of Tibullus may, perhaps, be accounted for on these simple grounds. The constant obligation of referring to notes would form a serious impediment to the reader's facility, and consequently, to his pleasure. For these reasons a se- lection from Propertius appears to be the only effectual method of awakening a sensibility to his merits. The critic will bear in mind that no classic author is so en- tangled with various readings, or betrays such evident marks of internal disarrangement and perplexity, as Propertius. The occasional disagreement in the order of the translated and original elegies will explain itself, if the edition of Burman be collated with the Leipsic edition of Kuinoel. The omissions are distinguished by asterisks. * In this now forgotten translation are some good lines ; witness the following couplet, El. 7. B. I. Or with her finger-talk her plots disguise, Or cheat thee with the silent speech of eyes* [91] (Lib. II. El. 4. ) rS o — thou must oft thy mistress' crimes arraign, And oft some favour ask, but ask in vain; Thy unoffending nails tear one by one, And stamp the foot, long wavering to be gone. In vain with fragrant oils I bath'd my head, In vain stepp'd slow with soft and mincing tread ; Have I not been of every seer the prey ? Of every crone who gives our dreams to day ? Avail not simples: herbs of charming power; Nor magic orgies in the midnight hour; Hidden the cause, but open is the blow ; Unknown the fountain whence the mischiefs flow. The patient droops — but him no bed of down Shall e'er restore, nor leech of sage renown; Unhurt by air or sky, no art can save, He breathes, he walks, and drops into the grave. Superior thus to remedy shall prove Whatever bears the dangerous name of love. 92 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. €kgn II. (Lib. II. El. 5.) 1 h e h wide through Rome — and is it, Cynthia, true ? Thy name is blown, thy wanton actions fly ; Look'd I for this ? — this, traitress ! thou shalt rue $ The northern wind shall teach me constancy. One whom thy sex's treachery less inspires I'll seek ; who from my song will covet fame? Whose shamelessness will not insult my fires, "Whose nimble tongue shall scandalize thy name. Oh, long belov'd ! too late thy tears will flow ! Now fresh my fury ; let me now depart ; When anger cools, alas ! too well I know Love will resume his influence o ; er mv heart ELEGIES OF PROPERTIES. 93 Not so the north-wind turns Carpathian* tides, Nor blackening clouds the veering south obey ; As at a word the lover sooth'd subsides — Loose then th' uuequal yoke while yet we may. And thou, not wholly from compunction free, Wilt somewhat grieve ; but only on the night When thy late lover first is miss'd by thee ; All ills of love become by patience light. But oh, by Juno's dear, protecting name, Harm not thyself, nor give these passions rein; Not the horn'd bull alone will wrongs inflame ; E'en the mild sheep, if injur'd, turns again. I will not from thy perjur'd bosom tear The vest away; thy bolted chamber storm; Pluck with infuriate grasp thy braided hair, Nor with hard nails thy tender cheeks deform : Thus let the rustic churl his anger show; To such these base revenges I resign ; Around whose uninitiated brow Ne'er shall the Muse's ivy chaplet twine ; * The sea between Rhodes and Egypt took its name from the island Carpathus, now called Scarpante. It was considered itormy. 94 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. But I will write — what thou wouldst blot in vain; Of Cynthia — Cynthia, beautiful and frail ; Fame's busy murmurs thou raayst still disdain, Yet this my verse shall dye thy cheek with pale. ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. <£iegp in. (Lib. II. El. 6.) 1 u e forms of youths and gods, that beauteous rise Around thy pictur'd roof, offend mine eyes. The tender, lisping babe by thee carest Within its cradle, wounds my jealous breast. I fear thy mother's kiss : thy sister dread, Suspect the virgin partner of her bed : Suspect, am hurt by all : a lover lies, Forgive my terrors, in the robe's disguise. Blest was Admetus' spouse ; and blest the dame Who shar'd Ulysses' couch in modest fame ; Oh ! ever happy shall the fair one prove Who by her husband's threshold bounds her love. Ah ! why should Modesty's pure fane ascend, Why at her shrine the blushing maiden bend ; If when she weds, her passions spurn control, If the bold matron sates her wishful soul ? The hand that first in glowing colours drew Round the chaste mansion groups that shame the view, 96 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. Made artless minds in crime's refinements wise, And flash 'd enlightening vice on virgin eyes. Curse on the wretch whose art could love destroy By veil'd design of mute insidious joy ! Not thus the roofs were deck'd in elder time, Nor the stain'd walls were painted with a crime. Then for some cause the desert fanes of Rome Wave with rank grass, while spiders veil the dome. What guards, oh Cynthia! shall thy path confine? What threshold bound that wilful foot of thine ? Weak is constraint if women loth obey, And she is safe, who blushing fears to stray. ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 97 4BIegp IV. (Lib. II. El. 9.) JN o w thy gay laugh midst circling goblets flies, Myself, perchance, thy raillery's sacrifice : E'en him thou seek'st, who late forsook thy charms ; Then may the Gods consign him to thine arms ! But when in tears we stood around thy bed, When Styx had nigh o'erwhelm'd thy sinking head, When my fond vows were silent breath'd for thee, Where then, perfidious ! where and what was he ? Wouhfst thou for me thus fondly breathe the prayer, Did I to farthest Ind the standard bear ; Or in mid-ocean were my vessel plac'd, A lonely speck amidst the watery waste ? Yes — words and smooth deceits are thine at will ; This task is easy to a woman still. Not Afric's sands so fluctuate to the blast, Or quivering leaves on wintery gales are cast, 98 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. As passion's gust bids woman's promise fiy 5 Be rage the cause, or be it levity. And must thou thus, Propertius ! in the bloom Of opening youth, descend into the tomb ? Must thou then die ? Yes, die — that she may view Thy corse with smiles ; thy fleeting ghost pursue With her tormenting scorn ; disturb thee dead ; Leap on thy pyre, and on thy ashes tread. * * * # * * *.* Witness the stars ! the dews of morning's hour ; The stealthy door which open'd to thy bower: That nought in life more precious was to me, And still I love thee, yes, in spite of thee ! ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 99 (Lib. II. El. 11.) Be prais'd by others, or unknown remain ; Who sings thy praise will sow a barren plain ; The funeral couch, that last, that gloomy day, Shall bear these offerings with thyself away : The traveller o'er thy slighted bones shall tread With heedless foot, neglectful of the dead ; Nor lingering at thy nameless grave declare " This heap of dust was an accomplish'd fair."* * Even while uttering a prophecy dictated by jealous resent- ment, he cannot forbear sliding into an elegant compliment. The real name of the lady, whom he celebrates by the name of Cynthia, appears, from the testimony of Apuleius, to have been Hostia, or Hostilia. Of her accomplishments and erudition he elsewhere speaks in the most flattering terms. Not her complexion charm' d me ; though more white Shines not the lily's bell ; like Scythian snows Blent with Iberian red its hues unite, Or in pure milk as floats the scatter'd rose. " 100 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. Not that through silken folds of Araby The nymph's fine limbs with lucid motion gleam— (For no ideal beauties heaves my sigh. Nor airy nothings prompt the lover's theme) : Not all so charms as when aside she lays The mantling cup, and glides before my view: Graceful as Ariadne, through the maze Of chcral dance, with Bacchic revellers flew. Or when she tunes to verse the Sapphic wire, Deep-skiil'd in Aganippe's warbled strain ; And challenges Corinna's classic lyre, And hears Erinne's numbers with disdain. When first, sweet soul! you saw the light of heaven, Did favouring Love with shrillest omen sneeze? The gods have these thy rare endowments given, The gods have given — nor from thy mother these. El. 3. B. II, ELEGIES OF PROPERTITJS. 101 €Iegp VI. (Lib. II. El. 12.) IJAD he not hands of rare device, whoe'er First painted Love in figure of a boy ? He saw what thoughtless beings lovers were, Who blessings lose, whilst lightest cares employ. Nor added he those airy wings in vain, And bade through human hearts the godhead fly : For we are tost upon a varying main; Our gale inconstant veers around the sky. Nor without cause he grasps those barbed darts, The Cretan quiver o'er his shoulder cast: Ere we suspect a foe he strikes our hearts, And those inflicted wounds for ever last. In me are fix'd those arrows; in my breast, But sure his wings are shorn, the boy remains; For never takes he flight, nor knows he rest; Still, still I feel him warring through my veins. 102 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. In these scorcht vitals dost thou joy to dwell ? — Oh shame ! to others let thy arrows flee : Let veins untouch'd with all thy venom swell, Not me thou torturest, but the shade of me. Destroy me — who shall then describe the fair ? This my light Muse to thee high glory brings ; When the nymph's tapering fingers, flowing hair, And eyes of jet, and gliding feet she sings. ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 103 dEIesp VIL (Lib. II. EL 13.) X e w e r the Persic darts in Susa's bands Than in my breast those arrows sheath 'd by Love; He not to scorn the tender Muse commands, And bids my dwelling be th' Ascraean grove.* Not that Pierian oaks may seek my lyre, Nor savage beasts from vales Ismarian throng, But that my Cynthia may the strain admire, And I than Linus rise more fam'd in sons:. * The old Abbe de Marolles, whose translation of Propertius contains in an average proportion about as many blunders as lines, supposes here a reference to Hesiodi: " C'est lui qui nYa commande d'habiter ainsi les bois qui furent autrefois cheris par le fameux Hesiode." But it would be difficult to discover the point of contact between Hesiod and Propertius : the one the re- viler of the sex, the other its idolater. Ascraean is a mere, general epithet, and has no reference but to mount Helicon, at whose foot was the village of Ascra. 104 ELEGIES OF PROPERT1US. Not an engaging form so charms mine eye : Not so the fair-one's noble lineage moves ; As on tlr accomplish'd nymph's soft breast to lie, And read what she with chastend ear approves. Be this my lot, and henceforth I despise The mingled babblings of the vulgar throng ; What are to me e'en Jove's dread enmities If she appeas'd relent, and love my song ?— ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 105 dEIesp VIII. (Lib. II. El. 14.) Ihen soon as night o'ershades my dying eyes, Hear my last charge : let no procession trail Its lengthen'd pomp to grace my obsequies, No trump with empty moan my fate bewail. Let not the ivory stand my bier sustain ; Nor on embroider'd vests my corse recline ; Nor odour-breathing censers crowd the train: The poor man's mean solemnities be mine. Enough of state — enough, if of my verse Three slender rolls be borne with pious care 5 No greater gift, attendant on my herse, Can soothe the breast of hell's imperial fair. But thou slow-following beat thy naked breast, Nor weary faint with calling on the dead : Be thy last kisses to my cold lips prest, While alabaster vases unguents shed. 106 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. When flames the pyre, and I am embers made, My relics to an earthen shell* convey; Then plant a laurel that the tomb may shade Where my quench 'd ashes rest, and grave the lay : " What here a heap of shapeless ashes lies " Was once the faithful slave of love alone 5" Then shall my sepulchre renown'd arise As dead Achilles' blood-besprinkled stone. t And thou, whene'er thou yieldest thus to fate, Oh, dear one! seek the memorable way Already trod ; the mindful stones await Thy second coming, and for thee they stay. Meantime, whilst life endures, oh, warn'd beware Lest thou the buried lover shouldst despise ; Not mouldering ashes quite unconscious are, The senseless clay is yet to injuries wise. * The ashes were collected from the pyre in an earthen vessel, previous to being deposited in the sepulchral urn. f Polyxena, says fabulous history, the betrothed of Achilles, cither sacrificed herself, or was sacrificed at his tomb. ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 107 €ltgp IX. (Lib. II. EI. 15.) Ah ! would some kinder fate, while yet I lay In cradled sleep, had bid me breathe my last! What boots the breath of our precarious day ? Nestor is dust, his three long ages past. On Ilium's rampart had the Phrygian spear Abridg'd his age, and sent a swifter doom ; He ne'er had seen his son's untimely bier, Nor cried " Oh Death ! why art thou slow to come ?" Thou thy lost friend shalt many a time deplore, And love may ever last for those who die ; Witness Adonis, when the ruthless boar Smote on th' Idalian mount his snowy thigh. 108 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. There Venus wept the beauteous hunter's fall, Trod the dank soil,* and bade her tresses flow ; Thou vainly, Cynthia ! wouldst my ghost recall; Can these my crumbled bones speak back thy woe ? * The marsh ; the haunt of the wild boars. For the trite tale of Adonis see Ovid's Metamorphoses, x. 503. Bion, Idyl. i. Theocritus, Idyl. SO. The whiteness of the skin of Adonis is adverted to by Anacreon, 28. ELEGIES OF PROPERT1US. 109 €Ie0p X. (Lib. II. El. 18.) Now comes the praetor from Illyria's land, My greatest torment, Cynthia's greatest gain: Oh, had he perish'd on Ceraunian* strand! — What gifts, oh Neptune ! then had deck'd thy fane ! Now at thy feasts another fills my seat, Unclos'd thy nightly door, but not for me : Then now, if wise, the proffer'd harvest meet, And sheer the silly sheep till fleec'd he be. * For the Ceraunian mountains of Epirus consult Strabo, vii. 488. Horace speaks of their ill-famed rocks : infames scopulos : as noted for shipwrecks. Od. I. iii, 2o. Propertius has before al- luded to them in the eighth Elegy of the first book : Yet treat me as thou wilt, thou perjur'd maid, May Galatea still thy passage aid : And Oricum's calm coast, Ceraunia past With prosperous oars, receive thee safe at last. Translation of the Monobiblos or Cynthia. 1 1 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. When, bare of his extorted wealth, he lies, To new Illyrias bid him steer the ship : No consul's honours draw my Cynthia's eyes, She weighs the gold that lines her lover's scrip. For gems she bids me to the deep repair, And bring from Tyre the robe that glows with red ; Oh that in Rome none ever wealthy were ! That ev'n the palace-roof with thatch were spread ! Then never mistress would unblushing sell The sordid favours of her venal charms 5 Still in one mansion would the fair-one dwell, And age o'ertake her in her bridegroom's arms. Not that seven tedious nights estrang'd from me Thy snowy arms round that vile reptile twine ; Not, bear me witness, am I wroth with thee — The fair's proverbial levity is thine. But Eriphyle's* bitter gifts survey ! See Jason's bride with fiery torments glow ! — Ah ! can no wrongs my burning tears allay, Nor I the yice forsake, that feel the woe ? * Eriphyle was bribed by Polynices, with a golden necklace, to betray her husband, who hid himself, that he might not join ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 1 1 1 Whole days have fled, and Mars his field to me, The Theatre, the Muse, no more are dear ; Blush at thy shame, yes, blush ; unless it be That a disgraceful passion cannot hear. Oh might those robes, those emeralds which he gave, Those chrysolites, that gleam with yellow light; Be swept by storms through air or o'er the wave, Be turn'd to earth or water in thy sight ! Not always Jove at lovers' perjuries Complacent laughs, nor deaf rejects the prayer? Mark'd ye the crash that roll'd along the skies, The lightnings darted through the vault of air ? No — not the Pleiads brood the tempest's ire, Not moist Orion wraps with clouds the sky ; No — for some special cause the glaring fire Falls in the terrors of its wrath from high. the expedition of the Argives against Thebes, which he fore- knew would be fatal to him. Amphiaraus was swallowed up by a gulph opening in the earth, and Eriphyle was murdered by her son Alcmseon in revenge of his father. Medea discovering that her husband Jason had married Creusa, sent her the present of a robe, or, as some say, a garland, en- venomed with magic poisons : which she unknowing accepted, and on wearing it was instantly consumed by unextinguishable fire. 112 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. Now Jove the perjur'd nymph rewards; for he, Although a god, has wept a treacherous fair : Not the Sidonian vest thy care should be, But tremble, false-one ! at the darkend air ! ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS 1 13 oEIegp XL (Lib II. El. 19.) 1 o fail the promis'd night, to lead with lies A lover's hopes, is murder in mine eyes. This sure as prophecy to me is known, Who many a bitter night have lain alone, Tost sore from side to side : — go now and sip Tantalean streams that mock thy thirsty lip ; Or toiling the Sisyphian rock behold With steep recoil from the whole mountain roll'd ; What as a loner's fate so hard can be, Or what, if wise- so little wish'd by thee ? I who have envy's admiration been On the tenth day am still excluded seen: Now would it please thy unrelenting soul If from the rock 1 ieap d, or drugg'd the bowl : Now in the public cross-ways must I lie While the decreasing moon* is dark on high ; * In the original sicca luna, during the dry moon ; this is equivalent to the luna sitims, thirsty moon, of Pliny : applied I 114 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. Or waste my breath in whispers, that implore Thy pity, through the crevice of thy door. Yet be it so — none other I'll pursue, And she shall weep to find that I am true. to the moon in conjunction with the sun : seemingly from the supposition that the moon then drinks the sun's rays. This dark quarter he also terms lunce silentium : the silence or dead time of the moon ; when the old moon is no longer visible, and the new not yet apparent. Propertius therefore means to complain that when the nights are darkest, he is obliged to lie in the streets. It may also be remarked that Vegetius speaks of the change of the moon as attended with storms. Horace intimates the same opinion. B. 1» Od, 25. Certainly an additional cause of discomfort to a man who makes his pillow on the steps of his mistress's door. ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 115 eitQp xil (Lib. II. El. 20.) Oft from incessant plaints has hatred sprung, And nymphs have soften'd to a silent tongue : If aught thou seest, deny that thou hast seen ; If griev'd, deny, that cause of grief has been. Inconstant Cynthia ! what if age with snow Had strewn my locks, and furrow'd deep my brow ? Though in my prime, thou viewst me with disdain; Thyself, perfidious ! in thy beauty's wane. Yes — not remote the day that shall deface With bending age thy figure's lofty grace. This thought has my diminish'd grief beguil'd, That love is wont to frown, where once he smil'd. Still dost thou fond with painted Britons vie, And toy with tresses dipp'd in shining dye : Beneath this earth may tortures wait the fair Who senseless changes her dissembling hair/ 116 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. Then wouldst thou charm, and ever beauteous be, Come oft, and beauteous thou wilt seem to me Be thou the guardian of thy faithful bed, Nor Tainly deck with gorgeous tire thy head. Beware — for I shall trust each tale of thee; Rumour has wings, and flies o'er earth and sea. ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 117 e\tm xiii. (Lib. II. El. 21.) Ihough with unwilling eyes from Rome I see Thy mourn'd departure, oh regretted maid ! Yet I rejoice that ev'n apart from me Thou seek'st the country's unfrequented shade. In the chaste fields no soft seducer sighs With blandishments that force thee to thy shame ; No wanton brawls before thy windows rise, Nor scar'd thy sleep with those that call thy name. Thou art in solitude — and all around Lone hills and herds and humble cots appear ; No theatres can here thy virtue wound, No fane's lascivious rites corrupt thee here. Thou shalt behold the steer the furrows turn, The sickle dexterous prune the leafy vine ; In chapel rude thy little incense burn, While falls the goat before a rustic shrine ; 118 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. And with bare leg* the rural dance essay, Secure from every rival's prying sight; The chase be mine : alternate let me pay To Venus vows, and join Diana's rite. Chide the bold hound ; in woodland covert lie ; And hang the antler 'd spoil on pine-tree boughs; But no huge lion in his lair defy, Nor savage boar with nimble onset rouse. My prowess be to seize the timid hare, Or from my reedy quiver pierce the bird ; Nigh where Clitumnus winds his waters fair Through arching trees, and laves the snow-white herd. Whate'er thy sports, remember, sweetest soul ! A few short days will bring me to thy side : Not the lone woods ; the streams that gushing roll From crags of moss in many a mazy tide, Can so divert the jealousy of fear, t But that my tongue rings changes on thy name While earnest in thy praise ; lest they that hear Should seek thee absent, and seduce to shame. * That is as nymphs are painted, in buskins, that reached some way above the ankle, but left the calf of the leg bare. + He cannot refrain from mentioning his mistress, but he mentions her under a fictitious name, lest his rivals should discover her retreat, and seek to corrupt the innocence of her ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 119 country life. This passage in the original affords a specimen of that closeness of style, and concinnity of expression, which is so characteristic of Propertius, and which has occasioned his com- mentators so much perplexity. The poor Abbe de Marolles is not the only interpreter of Propertius, who is obliged frequently to accost us with the marginal condolence, " ce lieu est fort dif- ficile." 1 20 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. eitw xiv. (Lib. II. El. 22.) W h y dost thou weep with more abundant tears Than shed Briseis from Achilles torn ? Why dost thou weep, opprest with gloomier fears Than sad Andromache to slavery borne ? Why, frantic as thou art, fatigue the skies, Of falsehood, of inconstancy complain ? Not so the nightingale her murmurs sighs Through all th ? Athenian groves in plaintive strain. Not Niobe in such a copious flood, O'ercome with anguish, shower 'd her bitter tears, When on the rock of £ipylum she stood, And sadly bent o'er twelve illustrious biers, Let brazen bonds my shackled arms restrain, Or Danae's iron tower my prison be ; For thee, my life ! I'd burst the brazen chain, And break through Danae's iron tower to thee. ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 121 To tales of thee a deaf ned ear I turn ; Nor thou ray stedfast constancy distrust : For by my father's bones, my mother's urn, (If I deceive, may anger rouse their dust ;) E'en to the shades of death I'll follow thee : One truth be ours, and ours one latest day; If not thy fame, thy charms a tie could be, A surer bond would be thy gentle sway. Seven moons have fill'd their orbs, and, o'er and o'er Through the throng'd streets our whisper'd names have flown; Yet on its hinge has turn'd thy yielding door, And I have made thy bounteous bed mine own. With no rich gifts I bought the blissful night, I to thy gracious favour ow'd my lot: Though many woo'd, in me was thy delight, Can then thy generous nature be forgot ? If I forget, stern Furies ! tear my soul ; And give, oh iEacus ! thy judgments way ; Be mine the slow Sisyphian stone to roll, Or lie to Tityus' hovering birds a prey. Write no beseeching letters : thou alone Shalt share my passion, to the last the same ; My constant rule of love, to love but one, Not soon to quench, nor rashly light the flame. 122 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. <£!egp XV. (Lib. II. E1..24.) X h o u know'st but yesterday how many a fair Shone pleasing in mine eyes with rival charms ; Thou knowst, Demophoon, thence flow'd many a care ; Still the throng'd games to me are fraught with harms. Oh theatres ! erected for my bane 1 Though his white arms the dancer smoothly twine, Or minstrel's lip irabreathe the varied strain, To court my wound with wandering gaze is mine ; Where sits the snowy nymph, her bosom bare, - The stray locks o'er her spotless forehead spread ; While India's pearl confines the braided hair, In tresses gather'd on her towery head. Then if with chill severity of mien Some whisper'd, soft request she proud refuse: The silent symptoms of despair are seen To bathe my brow with cold and trickling dews. ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS. 123 If kind, consent; if cruel, straight deny; Nor wavering lead our hopes with words of air : This is the lover's keenest agony When dallies with delay the lingering fair How does he sighing toss upon his bed, When some unknown he deems to him preferr'd, Bids the tir'd slave say o'er whate'er he said, And dreads to hear, yet hangs on every word. 124 ELEGIES OF PROPERTIUS.