Now, bow'd with grapes, in gold a vineyard glow'd,
A purple light along its clusters flow'd:
On poles of silver train'd, the vines repos'd,
Dark the deep trench, and pales of tin enclos'd.
One path alone there led, along whose way
Ceas'd not the gatherers thro' the live-long day:
Youths and fair girls, who, gladdening in the toil,
In woven panniers bore the nectar spoil:-
Sweet struck the lyre a boy amid the throng,
And chanted with shrill voice the Linus-song;
While the gay chorus, as they danc'd around,
Together sang, together beat the ground.
Now a large herd, high-horn'd, part tin, part gold,
Rose from the buckler of celestial mould:
These from their stalls rush'd bellowing to the
Where flow'd a river midst o'ershadowing reeds:
Four herdsmen follow'd, all in gold design'd,
And nine fleet-footed dogs came on behind.
Two famish'd lions, prowling for their prey,
Sprung on the bull that foremost led the way,
And wild with pain their bellowing victim drew,
While on their track the dogs and herdsmen flew:
Thro' the rent hide their food the lions tore,
The fuming entrails gorg'd, and drain'd his gore.
In vain the herdsmen speed, and urge in vain
The dogs the lions' conflict to sustain;
Too weak to wound, they linger'd, half-dismay'd,
Yet stood, too bold to fly, and fiercely bay'd.
Now the god's changeful artifice display'd
Fair flocks at pasture in a lovely glade:
And folds, and sheltering stalls peeped up be
tween,
And shepherd-huts diversified the scene.
Now on the shield a choir appear'd to move,
Whose flying feet the tuneful labyrinth wove;
Such as fam'd Daedalus, on Gnossus' shore,
For bright-hair'd Ariadne form'd of yore;
Youths and fair girls, there, hand in hand, ad-
vanced,
Tim'd to the song their step, and gaily danced.
Round every maid light robes of linen flow'd,
Round every youth a glossy tunic glow'd;
Those wreath'd with flowers, while from their
partners hung,
Swords that, all gold, from belts of silver swung.
Train'd by nice art each flexile limb to wind, Their twinkling feet the measur'd maze twin'd,
Fleet as the wheel, whose use the potter tries When twirl'd beneath his hand its axle flies. Now all at once their graceful ranks combine, Each rang'd against the other, line with line. The crowd flock'd round, and, wondering as they viewed,
Thro' every change the varying dance pursued; The while two tumblers, as they led the song, Turn'd in the midst, and roll'd themselves
There, last, the god the force of Ocean bound, And pour'd its waves the buckler's orb around.
GRECIAN ARMY GOING FORTH TO BATTLEAPPEARANCE OF ACHILLES.
THE host set forth and its steele waves
pour'd far out of the fleete;
And as from aire the north-winde blows
a frostie-colde thicke sleete,
That dazzles eyes, flakes after flakes
incessantly descending;
So thicke helmes, curets, ashen darts,
and round shields never-ending,
Flowed from the navie's hollow wombe;
their splendors gave heaven's eye
His beames againe; earth laugh'd to see
her face so like the skie;
Armes shin'd so hote, and she such clouds made with the dust she cast;
She thunder'd-feet of men and horse importuned her so fast.
In midst of all divine Achil
les his faire person arm'd; His teeth gnasht as he stood his eyes so full of fire, they warm'd; Unsuffer'd griefe and anger at
the Troians so combin'd; His greaves first usde, his goodly curets on his bosome shin'd; His sworde, his shielde that caste from it a brightnesse like the moone. And as from sea sailers discerne
a harmfull fire, let runne
By herdsmen's faults, till all their stall
flies up in wrestling flame,
Which, being on hils, is seene farre off;
but being alone, none came
To give it quench, at shore no neigh-
bors, and at sea their friends
Driven off with tempests; such a fire
from his bright shield extends
His ominous radiance and in heaven
imprest his fervent blaze.
His crested helmet, grave and high,
had next triumphant place On his curl'd head; and, like a starre, it cast a spurrie ray
About which a bright thicken'd bush
of golden haire did play, Which Vulcan forg'd him for his plume.
Thus compleate arm'd, he tride How fit they were, and if with ease his motion could abide
Their brave instruction; and so farre
they were from hindering it,
That to it they were nimble wings,
and made so light his spirit,
That from the earthe the princely cap-
taine they took up to aire.
Then from his armoury he drew
his lance, his father's speare, Huge, weightie, firme, that not a Greeke but he himselfe alone
Knew how to shake. It grew upon
the mountaine Pelion,
From whose height Chiron hew'd it for
his sire, and fatall 'twas
To great-soul'd men.
Now through the trembling shores Minerva calls,
And now she thunders from the Grecian walls.
Mars, hovering over Troy, his terror shrouds
In gloomy tempests and a night of clouds.-
Above, the Sire of gods his thunder rolls,
And peals on peals, redoubled, shake the poles.
HIM THE DEAD BODY OF HECTOR.
Beneath, stern Neptune shakes the solid ground; PRIAM'S SPEECH TO ACHILLES, ENTREATING FROM
The forests wave, the mountains nod around;
Through all their summits tremble Ida's woods,
And, from their sources, boil her hundred floods:
Troy's turrets totter on the rocking plain,
And the Greek navies beat the heaving main.
Deep in the dismal regions of the dead,
The infernal monarch rear'd his horrid head,
Leap'd from his throne, lest Neptune's arm
should lay
His dark dominions open to the day,
And pour in light on Pluto's drear abodes,
Abhorr'd by men, and dreadful e'en to gods.
THE third bold game Achilles next demands,
And calls the wrestlers to the level sands:
A massy tripod for the victor lies,
Of twice six oxen its reputed prize;
And next, the loser's spirits to restore,
A female captive, valued but at four.
Scarce did the chief the vigorous strife propose,
When tower-like Ajax and Ulysses rose.
Amid the ring each nervous rival stands,
Embracing rigid with implicit hands;
Close-lock'd above their heads and arms are mixt,
Below, their planted feet, at distance fixt:
Like two strong rafters, which the builder forms,
Proof to the wintry winds and howling storms,
Their tops connected, but at wider space,
Fixt on the centre stands their solid base.
Now to the grasp each manly body bends,
The humid sweat from every pore descends;
Nor could Ulysses, for his art renown'd,
O'erturn the strength of Ajax on the ground;
Nor could the strength of Ajax overthrow
The watchful caution of his artful foe.
While the long strife e'en tired the lookers on,
Thus to Ulysses spake great Telamon:
Or let me lift thee, chief, or lift thou me:
Prove we our force, and Jove the rest decree.
He said; and, straining, heaved him off the ground
With matchless strength; that time Ulysses found
To foil his foe, and where the nerves combine
His ancle struck: the giant fell supine:
Ulysses, following, on his bosom lies;
On thine own father, full of days like me,
"THINK, O Achilles, semblance of the gods,
Some neighbour chief, it may be, even now
And trembling on the gloomy verge of life.
Oppresses him, and there is none at hand,
No friend to succour him in his distress.
Yet, doubtless, hearing that Achilles lives,
He still rejoices, hoping day by day,
That one day he shall see the face again
Of his own son, from distant Troy returned.
But me no comfort cheers, whose bravest sons,
So late the flowers of Ilium, all are slain.
When Greece came hither, I had fifty sons;
But fiery Mars hath thinn'd them.-One I had,
One, more than all my sons, the strength of Troy,
Whom standing for his country, thou hast slain-
Hector. His body to redeem I come
Into Achaia's fleet, bringing myself,
Ransom inestimable to thy tent.
Rev'rence the gods, Achilles! recollect
Thy father; for his sake compassion show
To me more pitiable still, who draw
Home to my lips (humiliation yet
Unseen on earth,) his hand who slew my son!"
So saying, he waken'd in his soul regret
Of his own sire; softly he placed his hand
On Priam's hand, and push'd him gently away.
Remembrance melted both. Rolling before
Achilles' feet, Priam his son deplored
Wide-slaughtering Hector, and Achilles wept
By turns his father, and by turns his friend,
Patroclus: sounds of sorrow fill'd the tent.
HELEN'S LAMENTATION OVER HECTOR.
OH, Hector! thou wert rooted in my heart;
No brother there had half so large a part.
Not less than twenty years are now passed o'er,
Since first I landed on the Trojan shore,
Since Paris lured me from my home away,
(Would I had died before that fatal day!)
Yet was it ne'er my fate from thee to find
A deed ungentle, or a word unkind.
When others cursed the authoress of their woe,
Thy pity checked my sorrows in their flow:
If by my sisters or the queen revil'd,
Shouts of applause run rattling through the skies. (For the good king, like thee, was ever mild,)
Ajax to lift Ulysses next essays;
He barely stirred him, but he could not raise:
His knee lock'd fast, the foe's attempt denied,
And grappling close, they tumble side by side.
Defil'd with honourable dust they roll,
Still breathing strife, and unsubdued of soul:
Again they rage, again to combat rise;
When great Achilles thus divides the prize:
Thy kindness still has all my grief beguil'd.
For thee I mourn, and mourn myself in thee,
Nor hope, nor solace now remains to me;
Sad Helen has no friend, now thou art gone.*
"Few things," (says Mr Coleridge,) "are more interesting than to observe how the same hand that has given us the fury and inconsistency of Achilles, gives us also the consummate elegance and tenderness of Helen. She
OF ROLLING BILLOWS, TO AN ARMY IN MOTION.
THE hosts rush rolling on, as wave on wave,
When o'er th' Icarian sea swoln billows rave,
When east and south in adverse fury sweep,
Burst the dark clouds at once and lash the deep.
OF A FOREST IN FLAMES, TO THE LUSTRE OF
ARMS.
Nor less their number than the embodied cranes,
Or milk-white swans, in Asius' watery plains,
That o'er the winding of Cayster's springs,
Stretch their long necks, and clap their rustling
wings,
Now tower aloft, and course in airy rounds:
Now light with noise: with noise the field re-
sounds.
Thus clamorous and confused, extending wide,
The legions crowd Scamander's flowery side,
In numbers numberless as leaves and flowers,
That fill the lap of spring, and robe her bowers.
OF SWARMS OF FLIES, TO A NUMEROUS ARMY.
As in the spring-time, when the swain recalls
His lowing cattle to their wonted stalls,
Eve's milking hour from ether downwards draws
The flies' winged nations, swarming o'er the vase,
Thus Greece poured forth her multitudinous
throng.
OF A SHEPHERD GATHERING HIS FLOCKS, TO A
GENERAL RANGING HIS ARMY-AND OF THE
STATELINESS OF A BULL, TO THE PORT OF
AGAMEMNON.
As goat-herds, watchful of their charge at feed,
Part flock from flock, commingling on the mead,
Not skilful less, the chiefs beneath their sway,
Ranged rank by rank and formed the war-array.
As flames on flames spread far and wide their Mid these Atrides towered, his eye like fire,
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OF A FLIGHT OF CRANES OR SWANS, TO A NU-
MEROUS ARMY.
As when of many sorts the long-neck'd fowl,
Unto the large and flowing plain repair,
(Through which Cäyster's waters gently roll,)
In multitudes-high flying in the air,
Now here, now there fly, priding on their wing,
And by and by at once light on the ground,
And with their clamour make the air to ring,
And th' earth, whereon they settle, to resound.
So when the Achaians went up from the fleet,
And on their march were to the towers of Troy,
The earth resounded loud with hoofs and feet.
But on Scamander's flowery bank they stay,
In number like the flowers of the field,
Or leaves in spring, or multitude of flies
In some great dairy, round the vessels filled,
Delighted with the milk, dance, fall, and rise.*
is, throughout the Iliad, a genuine lady, graceful in motion and speech, noble in her associations, full of remorse for a fault for which higher powers seem responsible, yet grateful towards those with whom that fault had
connected her. I have always thought the speech, in
which Helen laments Hector, and hints at her own invidious and unprotected situation in Troy, as almost the sweetest passage in the poem."
His brow, like Jove exultant in his ire.
As mid the herds, a bull of stateliest size
Rears his horned forehead, and the field defies,
Thus, on that day, all, all their chiefs above,
Towered Agamemnon, glorified by Jove.
cause I had nothing else to do. Why publish it ?-Because I thought it might take off my adversaries from showing * Hobbes, in his quaint manner, gives us his reasons their folly upon my more serious writings, and set them for translating Homer. "Why then did I write it ?-Be- upon my verses to show their wisdom."
Till, with the growing storm, the deeps arise, Foam o'er the rocks, and thunder to the skies: So to the fight the thick battalions throng.
OF TORRENTS RUSHING THROUGH THE VALLEYS, TO ARMIES IN BATTLE.
As torrents roll, increased by numerous rills, With rage impetuous down their echoing hills, Rush to the vales, and, pour'd along the plain, Roar through a thousand channels to the main, The distant shepherd, trembling, hears the sound: So mix both hosts, and so their cries rebound.
And, where the barley bristles into grain,
Row after row, with sheaves o'erstrew the plain;
The Greeks and Trojans thus, in clash'd career,
Slay and are slain;*. -none pause, none fly, none
fear,
But lift alike their crests, and, wild with rage,
Like wolves, th' exterminating battle wage.
OF AJAX, TO AN ASS SURROUNDED BY BOYS.
As when an ass, slow-paced, despite a throng
Of urchins, bursts ripe fields of corn among,
And bruised by many a broken staff in vain,
At pleasure crops the ears of golden grain,
While nought such efforts and weak blows avail,
Till the gorged beast's keen sense of hunger fail,
OF THE MOON AND STARS IN GLORY, TO THE BRIGHT- Thus the brave Trojans and their leagued bands
NESS AND NUMBER OF THE TROJAN FIRES.
As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light, When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene; Around her throne the vivid planets roll, And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole, O'er the dark trees a yellow verdure shed, And tip with silver every mountain head; Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise, A flood of glory bursts from all the skies; The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light, So many fires before proud Ilion blaze, And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays.
Another translation of the Same.
As when, around the clear, bright moon, the stars Shine in full splendour, and the winds are hushed; The groves, the mountains-tops, the headlandheights,
Stand all apparent; not a vapour streaks
The boundless blue; but ether, opened wide,
All glitters, and the shepherd's heart is cheered.
As when the stars, at night's illumined noon, Beam in their brightness round the full-orbed
When sleeps the wind, and every mountain
Rock, and hoar cliff, shine towering up in light, Then gleam the vales, and ether, widely riven, Expands to other stars, another heaven:
While the lone shepherd, watchful of his fold, Looks wondering up, and gladdens to behold— Not less the fires, that through the nightly hours Spread war's whole scene before Troy's guarded towers,
Flung o'er the distant fleet a shadowy gleam, And quivering played on Xanthus' silver stream,
OF CORN FALLING IN ROWS, TO MEN SLAIN IN
BATTLE.
BUT as keen reapers, band opposed to band,
Toil in the harvest of a grateful land,
Struck on the shield of Ajax.
OF TWO MOUNTAIN OAKS, TO TWO HEROES.
.At the gates two mightiest warriors stood, Resistless race of Lapithean bloodThey stood like oaks, that on the mountain soar, Where, day by day, perpetual tempests roar; Rear amid whirlwinds their unswerving form, And spread their gnarled roots beneath the storm.
OF ARROWS, TO FLAKES OF SNOW.
As the feathery snows Fall frequent on some wintry day, when Jove Hath risen to shed them on the race of man, And show his arrowy stores; he lulls the wind, Then shakes them down continual, covering
Mountain tops, promontories, flowery meads, And cultured valleys rich, and ports and shores Along the margined deep; but there the wave Their further progress stays; while all besides Lies whelm'd beneath Jove's fast descending shower;
So thick, from side to side, by Trojans hurled Against the Greeks, and by the Greeks returned, The stony vollies flew.
OF THE WAVES ROLLING TO AND FRO, TO THE
DOUBTS OF NESTOR.
As when with its unwieldy waves
the sea fore feels the winds
That both ways murmur, and no way
a certain current finds,
But pants and swells confusedly;
here goes and there will stay,
Till on it air casts one firm wind,
and then it rolls away,
So stood old Nestor in debate,
two thoughts at once on wing....
*They are true to the last of their blood and their breath, And like reapers descend to the harvest of death.
FROM THE ODYSSEY OF HOMER.
Book IV.
ELYSIUM.
BUT oh, beloved of heaven! reserved for thee
A happier lot the smiling fates decree:
Free from that law, beneath whose mortal sway
Matter is changed, and varying forms decay;
Elysium shall be thine; the blissful plains
Of utmost earth, where Rhadamanthus reigns.
Joys ever young, unmixed with pain or fear,
Fill the wide circle of the eternal year;
Stern winter smiles on that auspicious clime,
The fields are florid with unfading prime;
From the bleak pole no winds inclement blow,
Mould the round hail, or flake the fleecy snow;
But from the breezy deep the blest inhale
The fragrant murmurs of the western gale.
HERMES SENT TO THE ISLAND OF CALYPSO.
He spoke. The god who mounts the winged winds
Fast to his feet the golden pinions binds,
That high through fields of air his flight sustain
O'er the wide earth, and o'er the boundless main.
He grasps the wand that causes sleep to fly,
Or in soft slumber seals the wakeful eye:
Then shoots from heaven to high Pieria's steep,
And stoops incumbent on the rolling deep.
So wat'ry fowl, that seek their fishy food,
With wings expanded o'er the foaming flood,
Now sailing smooth the level surface sweep,
Thus o'er the world of waters Hermes flew,
Now dip their pinions in the briny deep.
Till now the distant island rose in view:
Then swift ascending from the azure wave,
He took the path that winded to the cave.
Large was the grot, in which the nymph he
found,
fair-hair'd nymph with every beauty
She sat and sung; the rocks resound her lays:
The cave was brighten'd with a rising blaze:
Cedar and frankincense, an od rous pile,
Flam'd on the hearth, and wide perfum'd the isle;
While she with work and song the time divides,
And through the loom the golden shuttle guides.
Without the grot, a various sylvan scene
Appear'd around, and groves of living green;
Poplars and alders ever quiv'ring play'd
And nodding cypress form'd a fragrant shade;
On whose high branches, waving with the storm,
The birds of broadest wing their mansion form,
The chongh, the sea-mew, the loquacious crow,
And scream aloft, and skim the deeps below.
Depending vines the shelving cavern screen,
With purple clusters blushing through the green.
Four limpid fountains from the clefts distil,
And every fountain pours a sev`ral rill,
In mazy windings wand'ring down the hill:
Where bloomy meads with vivid greens were
And glowing violets threw odours round.
A scene, where if a god should cast his sight,
A god might gaze, and wander with delight!
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