Then in his warm embrace the boys he press'd,
And, quivering, strain'd them to his aged breast;
With tears the burning cheek of each bedew'd,
And, sobbing, thus his first discourse renew'd:
"What gift, my countrymen, what martial prize
Can we bestow, which you may not despise ?
Our deities the first best boon have given-
Internal virtues are the gift of Heaven.
What poor rewards can bless your deeds on earth,
Doubtless await such young, exalted worth.
Eneas and Ascanius shall combine
To yield applause, far, far surpassing mine."
Iulus then :-"By all the powers above!
By those Penates who my country love!
By hoary Vesta's sacred fane, I swear,
My hopes are all in you, ye generous pair!
Restore my father to my grateful sight,
And all my sorrows yield to one delight.
Nisus! two silver goblets are thine own,
Saved from Arisba's stately domes o'erthrown!
My sire secured them on that fatal day,
Nor left such bowls an Argive robber's prey:
Two massy tripods, also, shall be thine;
Two talents polished from the glittering mine:
An ancient cup, which Tyrian Dido gave,
While yet our vessels press'd the Punic wave;
But when the hostile chiefs at length bow down,
When great Æneas wears Hesperia's crown,
The casque, the buckler, and the fiery steed
Which Turnus guides with more than mortal speed,
Are thine; no envious lot shall then be cast,
I pledge my word, irrevocably past:
Nay more, twelve slaves, and twice six captive dames,
To soothe thy softer hours with amorous flames,
And all the realms which now the Latins sway,
The labors of to-night shall well repay.
But thou, my generous youth, whose tender years
And near my own, whose worth my heart reveres,
Henceforth affection, sweetly thus begun,
Shall join our bosoms and our souls in one;
Without thy aid, no glory shall be mine;
Without thy dear advice, no great design;
Alike through life esteem'd, thou godlike boy,
In war my bulwark, and in peace my joy."
To him Euryalus :-"No day shall shame
The rising glories which from this I claim.
Fortune may favor, or the skies may frown,
But valor, spite of fate, obtains renown.
Yet, ere from hence our eager steps depart,
One boon I beg, the nearest to my heart;
My mother, sprung from Priam's royal line,
Like thine ennobled, hardly less divine,
Nor Troy nor king Acestes' realms restrain
Her feeble age from dangers of the main ;
+Alone she came, all selfish fears above,
A bright example of maternal love,
Unknown the secret enterprise I brave,
Lest grief should bend my parent to the grave;
From this alone no fond adieus I seek,
No fainting mother's lips have press'd my cheek;
By gloomy night and thy right hand I vow
Her parting tears would shake my purpose now;
Do thou, my prince, her failing age sustain,
In thee her much-loved child may live again;
↑ "Alone she came." In the first edition," Hither she came."
Her dying hours with pious conduct bless,
Assist her wants, relieve her fond distress;
So dear a hope must all my soul inflame,
To rise in glory, or to fall in fame."
Struck with a filial care so deeply felt,
In tears at once the Trojan warriors melt:
Faster than all, Iulus' eyes o'erflow;
Such love was his, and such had been his wo,
"All thou hast ask'd, receive," the prince replied;
Nor this alone, but many a gift beside.
To cheer thy mother's years shall be my aim,
Creusa's style but wanting to the dame.
Fortune an adverse wayward course may run.
But bless'd thy mother in so dear a son.
Now, by my life!-my sire's most sacred oath-
To thee I pledge my full, my firmest troth,
All the rewards which once to thee were vow'd,
If thou shouldst fall, on her shall be bestow'd."
Thus spoke the weeping prince, then forth to view
A gleaming falchion from the sheath he drew;
Lycayon's utmost skill had graced the steel;
For friends to envy and for foes to feel;
A tawny hide, the Moorish lion's spoil,
Slain 'mid the forest, in the hunter's toil,
Mnestheus to guard the elder youth bestows,
And old Alethes' casque defends his brows.
Arm'd thence they go, while all th' assembled train,
To aid their cause, implore the gods in vain.
More than a boy in wisdom and in grace,
Iulus holds amid the chiefs his place:
His prayer he sends; but what can prayers avail,
Lost in the murmurs of the sighing gale!
The trench is pass'd, and, favor'd by the night,
Through sleeping foes they wheel their wary flight.
When shall the sleep of many a foe be o'er ?
Alas! some slumber who shall wake no more!
Chariots and bridles, mix'd with arms, are seen;
And flowing flasks, and scatter'd troops between.
Bacchus and Mars to rule the camp combine;
A mingled chaos this of war and wine.
"Now," cries the first "for deeds of blood prepare,
With me the conquest and the labor share:
Here lies our path; lest any hand arise,
Watch thou, while many a dreamy chieftain dies;
I'll carve our passage through the heedless foe,
And clear thy road with many a deadly blow."
His whispering accents then the youth repress'd,
And pierced proud Rhamnes through his panting
breast;
Stretch'd at his ease, th' incautious king reposed;
Debauch, and not fatigue, his eyes had closed:
To Turnus dear, a prophet and a prince,
His omens more than augur's skill evince;
But he, who, thus foretold the fate of all,
Could not avert his own untimely fall.
Next Remus' armor-bearer, hapless fell,
And three unhappy slaves the carnage swell.
The charioteer along his courser's sides
Expires, the steel his sever'd neck divides;
And, last, his lord is number'd with the dead;
Bounding convulsive, flies the gasping head;
From the swoll'n veins the blackening torrents pour,
Stain'd is the couch and earth with clotting gore.
Young Lamyrus and Lamus next expire,
And gay Serranus, fill'd with youthful fire:
• The mother of lulus, lost on the night when Trov was taken.
Half the long night in childish games was pass'd:
Lull'd by the potent grape, he slept at last:
Ah! happier far had he the morn survey'd,
And till Aurora's dawn his skill display'd.
In slaughter'd folds, the keepers lost in sleep,
His hungry fangs a lion thus may steep;
'Mid the sad flock, at dead of night, he prowls,
With murder glutted, and in carnage rolls;
Insatiate still, through teeming herds he roams;
In seas of gore the lordly tyrant foams.
Nor less the other's deadly vengeance came,
But falls on feeble crowds without a name :
His wound unconscious Fadus scarce can feel,
Yet wakeful Rhesus sees the threatening steel:
His coward breast behind a jar he hides,
And vainly in the weak defence confides;
Full in his heart, the falchion searched his veins,
The reeking weapon bears alternate stains;
Then backward o'er the plain his eyes extend,
On every side they seek his absent friend.
"O God! my boy," he cries, "of me bereft,
In what impending perils art thou left!"
Listening he runs-above the waving trees,
Tumultuous voices swell the passing breeze;
The war-cry rises, thundering hoofs around
Wake the dark echoes of the trembling ground.
Again he turns, of footsteps hear the noise;
The sound elates, the sight his hope destroys:
The hapless boy a ruffian train surround,
While lengthening shades his weary way confound;
Him with loud shouts the furious knights pursue,
Struggling in vain, a captive to the crew.
What can his friend 'gainst thronging numbers dare?
Ah! must he rush, his comrade's fate to share?
What force, what aid, what stratagem essay,
Back to redeem the Latian spoiler's prey ?"
His life a votive ransom nobly give,
Or die with him for whom he wish'd to live?
Through wine and blood, commingling as they flow, Poising with strength his lifted lance on high,
One feeble spirit seeks the shades below.
Now where Messapus dwelt they bend their way,
Whose fires emit a faint and trembling ray;
There, unconfined, behold each grazing steed,
Unwatch'd, unheeded, on the herbage feed:
Brave Nisus here arrests his comrade's arm,
Too flush'd with carnage, and with conquest warm:
"Hence let us haste, the dangerous path is pass'd;
Full foes enough to-night have breath'd their last:
Soon will the day those eastern clouds adorn;
Now let us speed, nor tempt the rising morn."
What silver arms, with various art emboss'd,
What bowls and mantles in confusion toss'd,
They leave regardless! yet one glittering prize
Attracts the younger hero's wandering eyes;
The gilded harness Rhamnes' coursers felt,
The gems which studd the monarch's golden belt;
This from the pallid corse was quickly torn,
Once by a line of former chieftains worn.
Th' exulting boy the studded girdle wears,
Messapus' helm his head in triumph bears;
Then from the tents their cautious steps they bend
To seek the vale where safer paths extend.
Just at this hour a band of Latian horse
To Turnus' camp pursue their destined course;
While the slow foot their tardy march delay,
The knights, impatient, spur along the way:
Three hundred mail-clad men, by Volscens led,
To Turnus with their master's promise sped;
Now they approach the trench, and view the walls,
When, on the left, a light reflection falls;
The plunder'd helmet through the waning night,
Sheds forth a silver radiance, glancing bright.
Volscens with question loud the pair alarms :-
"Stand, stragglers! stand! why early thus in arms?
From whence, to whom ?"-He meets with no reply:
Trusting the covert of the night, they fly;
The thicket's depth with hurried pace they tread,
While round the wood the hostile squadron spread.
With brakes entangled, scarce a path between,
Dreary and dark appears the sylvan scene:
Euryalus his heavy spoils impede,
The boughs and winding turns his steps mislead;
But Nisus scours along the forest's maze
To where Latinus' steeds in safety graze,
On Luna's orb he cast his frenzied eye:
"Goddess serene, transcending every star!
Queen of the sky, whose beams are seen afar!
By night heaven owns thy sway, by day the grove,
When, as chaste Dian, here thou deign'st to rove;
If e'er myself, or sire, have sought to grace
Thine altars with the produce of the chase,
Speed, speed my dart to pierce yon vaunting crowd,
To free my friend and scatter far the proud."
Thus having said, the hissing dart he flung;
Through parted shades the hurtling weapons sung;
The thirsty point in Sulmo's en trails lay,
Transfixed his heart, and stretch'd him on the clay:
He sobs, he dies,-the troop in wild amaze,
Unconscious whence the death, with horror gaze.
While pale they stare, through Tagus' temple riven,
A second shaft with equal force is driven :
Fierce Volscens rolls around his lowering eyes;
Veil'd by the night, secure the Trojan lies;
Burning with wrath, he viewed his soldiers fall.
"Thou youth accurst, thy life shall pay for all! **
Quick from the sheath his flaming glaive he drew.
And, raging, on the boy defenceless flew.
Nisus no more the blackening shade conceals,
Forth, forth he starts, and all his love reveals,
Aghast, confused, his fears to madness rise,
And pour these accents, shrieking as he flies;
"Me, me-your vengeance hurl on me alone;
Here sheathe the steel, my blood is all your own.
Ye starry spheres! thou conscious Heaven! attest!
He could not-durst not-lo! the guile confest!
All, all was mine-his early fate suspend.
He only loved too well his hapless friend:
Spare, spare, ye chiefs! from him your rage remove,
His fault was friendship, all his crime was love."
He pray'd in vain; the dark assassin's sword
Pierced the fair side, the snowy bosom gored;
Lowly to earth inclines his plume-clad crest,
And sanguine torrents mantle o'er his breast:
As some young rose, whose blossom scents the air,
Languid in death, expires beneath the share;
Or crimson poppy, sinking with the shower,
Declining gently, falls a fading flower :
Thus, sweetly drooping, bends his lovely head,
And lingering beauty hovers round the dead.
But fiery Nisus stems the battle's tide, Revenge his leader, and despair his guide;
Volscens he seeks amid the gathering host,
Volscens must soon appease his comrade's ghost;
Steel, flashing, pours on steel, foe crowds on foe;
Rage nerves his arm, fate gleams in every blow;
In vain beneath unnumber'd wounds he bleeds,
Nor wounds, nor death, distracted Nisus heeds;
In viewless circles wheel'd, his falchion flies,
Nor quits the hero's grasp till Volscens dies;
Deep in his throat its end the weapon found,
The tyrant's soul filed groaning through the wound.
Thus Nisus all his fond affection proved-
Dying, revenged the fate of him he loved;
Then on his bosom sought his wonted place,
And death was heavenly in his friend's embrace!
Celestial pair! if aught my verse can claim,
Wafted on Time's broad pinion, yours is fame!
Ages on ages shall your fate admire,
No future day shall see your names expire,
While stands the Capitol, immortal dome!
And vanquish'd millions hail their empress, Rome!
TRANSLATION FROM THE MEDEA OF EURIPIDES.*
WHEN fierce conflicting passions urge
The breast where love is wont to glow, What mind can stem the stormy surge, Which rolls the tide of human wo? The hope of praise, the dread of shame, Can rouse the tortured breast no more; The wild desire, the guilty flame,
Absorbs each wish it felt before.
But if affection gently thrills
The soul by purer dreams possest, The pleasing balm of mortal ills
In love can soothe the aching breast: If thus thou comest in disguise,t
Fair Venus! from thy native heaven, What heart unfeeling would despise The sweetest boon the gods have given ?
But never from thy golden bow
May I beneath the shaft expire! Whose creeping venom, sure and slow, Awakes an all-consuming fire: Ye racking doubts! ye jealous fears! With others wage internal war; Repentance, source of future tears, From me be ever distant far!
May no distracting thoughts destroy
The holy calm of sacred love!
May all the hours be winged with joy,
Which hover faithful hearts above!
Fair Venus! on thy myrtle shrine
May I with some fond lover sigh,
Whose heart may mingle pure with mine-
With me to live, with me to die!
• First printed in Hours of Idleness.
↑ Comest in disguise. In the first edition, com'st in gentle disguise.
My native soil! beloved before, Now dearer as my peaceful home, Ne'er may I quit thy rocky shore
A hapless banish'd wretch to roam! This very day, this very hour,
May I resign this fleeting breath! Nor quit my silent humble bower; A doom to me far worse than death
Have I not heard the exile's sigh,
And seen the exile's silent tear,
Through distant climes condemn'd to fly
A pensive weary wanderer here?
Ah! hapless dame!, no sire bewails,
No friend thy wretched fate deplores,
No kindred voice with rapture hails
Thy steps within a stranger's doors.
Perish the fiend whose iron heart,
To fair affection's truth unknown, Bids her he fondly loved depart,
Unpitied, helpless, and alone: Who ne'er unlocks with silver key t
The milder treasures of his soul,May such a friend be far from me, And ocean's storms between us roll!
SUGGESTED BY A COLLEGE EXAMINATION.t
HIGH in the midst, surrounded by his peers,
MAGNUS his ample front sublime uprears:
Placed on his chair of state, he seems a god,
While Sophs and Freshmen tremble at his nod.
As all around sit wrapt in speechless gloom,
His voice in thunder shakes the sounding dome;
Denouncing dire reproach to luckless fools,
Unskill'd to plod in mathematic rules.
Happy the youth in Euclid's axioms tried,
Though little versed in any art beside;
Who, scarcely skill'd in English line to pen,
Scans Attic metres with a critic's ken.
What though he knows not how his fathers bled,
When civil discord piled the fields with dead,
When Edward bade his conquering bands advance,
Or Henry trampled on the crest of France;
Though marvelling at the name of Magna Charta,
Yet well he recollects the laws of Sparta;
Can tell what edicts sage Lycurgus made,
While Blackstone's on the shelf neglected laid;
• Medea, who accompanied Jason to Corinth, was deserted by him for the daughter of Creon, king of that city. The chorus from which this is taken here addresses Medea; though a considerable liberty is taken with the original, by expanding the idea, as also in some other parts of the translation. † The original is “ Καθαρὰν ἀνοίξαντι κλῆδα φρενών ; ” Literally "disclosing the bright key of the mind."
No reflection is here intended against the person mentioned under the name of Magnus. He is merely represented as performing an unavoidable function of his office. Indeed, such an attempt could only recoil upon myself; as that gentleman is now as much distinguished by his eloquence, and the dignified propriety with which he fills his situation, as he was in his younger days for wit and conviviality
The above note was added in the first edition of the Hours of Idleness.
Of Grecian dramas vaunts the deathless fame, Of Avon's bard remembering scarce the name.
Such is the youth whose scientific pate
Class-honors, medals, fellowships, await;
Or even, perhaps, the declamation prize,
If to such glorious height he lifts his eyes.
But, lo! no common orator can hope
The envied silver cup within his scope.
Not that our heads much eloquence require,
Th' ATHENIAN's glowing style, or Tully's fire.
A manner clear or warm is useless, since
We do not try by speaking to convince.
Be other orators of pleasing proud:
We speak to please ourselves, not move the crowd:
Our gravity prefers the muttering tone,
A proper mixture of the squeak and groan;
No borrowed grace of action must be seen;
The slightest motion would displease the Dean;
Whilst every staring graduate would prate
Against what he could never imitate.
The man who hopes t' obtain the promised cup
Must in one posture stand, and ne'er look up;
Nor stop, but rattle over every word-
Not matter what, so it can not be heard.
Thus let him hurry on, nor think to rest;
Who speaks the fastest's sure to speak the best;
Who utters most within the shortest space,
May safely hope to win the wordy race.
The sons of science these, who, thus repaid,
Linger in ease in Granta's sluggish shade;
Where on Cam's sedgy bank supine they lie
Unknown-unhonor'd live, unwept-for die :
Dull as the pictures which adorn their halls,
They think all learning fix'd within their walls:
In manners rude in foolish forms precise,
All modern arts affecting to despise;
Yet prizing BENTLEY'S, BRUNCK's, or PORSON'St
More than the verse on which the critic wrote:
Vain as their honors, heavy as their ale,
Sad as their wit, and tedious as their tale;
To friendship dead, though not untaught to feel,
When Self and Church demand a bigot zeal.
With eager haste they court the lord of power,
Whether 'tis PITT or PETTY rules the hour; §
To him with suppliant smiles they bend the head,
While distant mitres to their eyes are spread.
But should a storm o'erwhelm him with disgrace,
They'd fly to seek the next who fill'd his place.
Such are the men who learning's treasures guard;
Such is their practice, such is their reward!
This much at least we may presume to say-
The premium can't exceed the price they pay.
The present Greek professor at Trinity College, Cambridge; a man whose powers of mind and writings may perhaps justify their preference. The concluding clause of the foregoing note was added in the first edition of Hours of Idleness,
Vain as their honors, &c.-The four ensuing lines were inserted In the second edition of Hours of Idleness.
§ Since this was written, Lord H. Petty has lost his place, and subsequently (I had almost said consequently) the honor of representing the University. A fact so glaring requires no comment.
While distant mitres, &c. In the private volume, While mitres prebends to their eyes are spread.
Sis memor, et cari comitis ne abscedat imago," Valerius Flaccus.
And though some trifling share of praise,
To cheer my last declining days,
To me were doubly dear;
Whilst blessing your beloved name,
I'd wave at once a poet's fame,
To prove a prophet here.
• A bard (horresco referens) defied his reviewer to mortal combat. If this example becomes prevalent, our periodical censors must be dipped in the fiver Styx; for what else can secure them from the numerous host of their enraged assailants?
"Αργυρέαις λογχαισι μάχου καὶ πάντα Κρατήσαις "ο
OH! Could LE SAGE'S † demon's gift
Be realized at my desire,
This night my trembling form he'd lift To place it on St. Mary's spire.
Then would, unroof'd, old Granta's halls
Pedantic inmates full display;
Fellows who dream on lawn or stalls,
The price of venal votes to pay.
Then would I view each rival wight,
Petty and Palmerston survey;
Who canvass there with all their might,
Against the next elective day.
Lo! candidates and voters lie
All lull'd in sleep, a goodly number!
A race renown'd for piety,
Whose conscience won't disturb their slumber
Lord H, indeed, may not demur;
Fellows are sage reflecting men:
They know preferment can occur
But very seldom, now and then.
They know the chancellor has got
Some pretty livings in disposal: Each hopes that one may be his lot, And therefore smiles on his proposal.
Now from the soporific scene §
I'll turn mine eye, as night grows later, To view unheeded and unseen
The studious sons of Alma Mater.
There, in apartments small and damp,
The candidate for college prizes
Sits poring by the midnight lamp;
Goes late to bed, yet early rises.
He surely well deserves to gain them, With all the honors of his college, Who, striving hardly to obtain them, Thus seeks unprofitable knowledge:
Who sacrifices hours of rest
To scan precisely metres Attic;
Or agitates his anxious breast
In solving problems mathematic:
• The motto was not given in the private volume.
↑ The Diable Boiteux of Le Sage, where Asmodeus, the demon, places Don Cleofas on an elevated situation, and unroofs the houses for inspection. Lo! candidates and voters lie, &c. The fourth and fifth stanzas, which are given here as they were printed in the Hours of Idleness, ran as follows, in the private volume :
"One on his power and place depends,
The other on the Lord knows what ;
Each to some eloquence pretends,
Though neither will convince by that.
"The first, indeed, may not demur."
From the soporific scene. In the private volume, From corruption's shameless scene.
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