Nor forced a step retreat. Then rushing on with violent spear, The steely point: while Jove, On Idas, thunder dire Flash'd, in whose smould'ring fire, Who levy war against their better's head. Back to his brother, Pollux strode in haste, Whom not yet dead he found, But stretch'd upon the ground, With short breath, shudd'ring, all aghast; And dewing his warm tears with many a groan, Aloud he made his moan. "Oh, Father Jove! what end With him, O king! Honour no more is left And few of mortals faithful are to lend He ended; and before him stood "Thou art my son: but him of mortal brood, Engender'd after thee, Thy mother to her husband bare. But come: of these things yet I give thee choice. If thou the doom of death And hated age wouldst flee, And in Olympus still abide with us And Pallas and stern Mars of ebon spear; But for thy brother if thou yet dost fight, T'allow him equal share, Then under earth, o'erwhelm'd, Thou half thy days must breathe, And half in heav'n amidst our golden hall." Such were the words: and he In counsel waver'd not, But straight unclosed the sight And then the voice of Castor brazen-helm'd. FROM ISTHMIAN III. JOVE! our greatest virtues we, Bliss thrives with such as fear thy sway, FROM ISTHMIAN IV. THEY, who their puissance never try, Are lost in dumb obscurity; And such, as strive, may haply meet, Before the end, some strange defeat. For Fortune, at her will, bestows On mortal works the appointed close. And sometimes have the better men, Through guile of worse, supplanted been FROM ISTHMIAN VIII. MARRIAGE OF PELEUS AND THETIS. AND Jove for Thetis with bright Neptune vied, Each wishing her his bride, By spell of love possest. But they, the pow'rs divine averr'd, "Cease then your suit. And let her brook Upon a son in fight laid low; With hands like Mars' to chase the foe, For the man that honours most The Goddess ended. And her speech And for th' Atridæ bridged their homeward way; And ransom'd beauteous Helena; Nor when in death himself he lay, A FRAGMENT. TO THE SUN UNDER AN ECLIPSE. Man's stalwart strength and bar With dark obstruction Wisdom's winding way? Lo! on thy chariot-track Hangs midnight pitchy-black; While thou, from out thine ancient path afar, But thee, by mightiest Jove, do I implore- Of plenteousness and peace for evermore. A wonder and a sign, What terror threatenest thou at this dread hour? Doom of battle dost thou bring; Or cankerous blight, fruit-withering; Or crushing snow-showers' giant weight; Or faction, shatterer of the state; Or breaching seas poured o'er the plain; Or frost that fettereth land and spring; BEAM of the Sun, Heaven-watcher, Thou, whose Or summer dank whose drenching wing glance Lights far and wide, unveil to me, unveil Thy brow, that once again mine eye may hail The lustre of thy cloudless countenance. Surpassing star! Why thus at noon of day Withdrawing, would'st thou mar Droops heavily with rain? Such fate, portendeth such, thy gloomy brow? Afresh from off the face of nature sweep? PRATINAS. [About 525 B. C.] A PELOPONESIAN of the city of Phlius, and au- | thor of several tragic and satiric dramas, now lost. On one occasion, during his acting at Athens, the wooden stage broke down under the weight of the crowd, and much mischief having ensued, the Athenians set about building a theatre of more solid materials, and better adapted to the improving character of the Greek drama. "Pratinas" (says Mr. Cumberland,) "struck out a considerable improvement in the orchestral part of his drama, by revoking the custom of allowing the minstrels to join the chaunt or strain with the chorus, and suffering them only to accompany with their pipes. The people, however, not yet weaned from their old prejudice for the noisy Bacchanalian songs of their village masques, opposed themselves violently against the innovation, when, in the midst of the tumult, Pratinas appeared on the stage in person, and, in a kind of Salian song, accompanied with dancing, addressed his audience to the following effect: What means this tumult? Why this rage? The Dryads with their chief accord, The Minstrel's master and his guide: * Pratinas had been the first to introduce satyrs and dryads with these lively songs and movements, and was, therefore, regarded as the inventor of the satiric drama. H EPICHARMUS. [About 500 B. C.] A NATIVE of Cos, and an inhabitant of Sicily; | timent, and, at others, degenerating into wildest called by Theocritus the Inventor, and by Plato buffoonery. The "Menæchmi" of Plautus is said the "Homer," of Comedy. His dramas were partly mythological, and partly political; and the style and language as varied as the subjects of them; sometimes full of moral and gnomic sen to have been founded on one of his plays. Though he composed at least thirty-five, only an occasional fragment or sentence of any of them has descended to us. MARRIAGE. -Marriage is like A cast of dice!-Happy indeed his lot GENEALOGIES. Goon gossip, if you love me, prate no more ;- Away to those who have more need of them! When every common fellow, that they meet, Yet Anacharsis was a Scythian born; Is nobler than your pedigrees can make him. The kings with nerve and heart And morning's pleasant light both gods and mortals cheer'd; Then, from the shore, the rocks and windy summits high Of wood-topt Pelion rear'd their beacon midst the sky. The helm, with both his hands, with quiet course impell'd; Then swift they near'd the shore; the wooden ladder cast, And forth the heroes leap'd, relieved from labours past. Then to the circling throng the horseman Peleus cried; "Mark, friends! yon shadowing crag, midway the mountain side: There Chiron dwells, most just of all the Centaur race, That haunt high Pelion's top; a cave his dwelling place. He there awards the right, or heals the body's pains; And chaunts to neighbouring tribes, oracular, his strains. To Phœbus' chorded harp, the laws, in wisdom, sings; Or Hermes' hollow lute, of shell sonorous, strings; And therefore Thetis came, with silver feet, to trace High Pelion's waving woods, my babe in her embrace; And here to Chiron's hands, the new-born infant brought, To cherish with a father's eye, and rear with prudent thought. Indulge my longing, friends! with me the cavern tread, To mark how fares my boy; how gifted, and how bred." He trod the beaten path; we follow'd where he led; We enter'd straight a grot, of gloomy twilight shade: There on a lowly couch, the Centaur huge was laid. At length unmeasured stretch'd, his rapid legs were thrown; And, shod with horny hoofs, reclin'd upon the stone. The boy Achilles stood, erect, beside the sire; And smote with pliant hand the spirit-soothing lyre. But, when the Centaur saw the noble kings appear, He rose with courteous act, and kiss'd, and brought them dainty cheer. The wine in beakers served, the branchy couches spread With scatter'd leaves, and placed each guest upon his bed. In dishes rude the flesh of boars and stags bestowed; While draughts of luscious wine in equal measure flow'd. But now, when food and drink had satisfied the heart, With loud, applauding hands, they urged my minstrel's art: That I, in contest match'd against the Centaur sire, Should, to some wide-famed strain, attune the ringing lyre. But I, averse, forbore in contest to engage, And blush'd, that youth should vie with more experienced age, Till Chiron join'd the wish, himself prepared to sing; And forced me to contend, reluctant, on the string. Achilles stretch'd his hand, and gave the beauteous shell, Which Chiron took, and sang the Centaur combat fell: How them the Lapitha for daring outrage slew; How, mad with strength of wine, 'gainst Hercules they flew; And him, on Pholoe's mount, to stubborn conflict drew. I next the lute received, of echo sweet and shrill, And bade my breathing lips their honour'd song distil: in round alternate roll'd; Heaven flow'd through boundless space, and earth her teeming train Fed from her ample breast, and deep in whirlpools heaved the main. I sang of elder Love, who, self-sufficing, wrought Creation's differing forms, with many-counsell'd thought. Of baneful Saturn next, and how the heaven above Fell with its regal sway to thunder-launching Jove. I sang the younger gods, whence rose their various birth, How spread their separate powers through sea, and air, and earth. Of Brimus, and of Bacchus last, and giants' mystic fame, And whence man's weaker race arose, of many-nation'd name. Through winding cavities, that scoop'd the rocky cell, With tone sonorous thrill'd my sweetly vocal shell. High Pelion's mountain-heads, and woody valleys round, And all his lofty oaks remurmur'd to the sound. His oaks uprooted rush, and all tumultuous wave, Around the darken'd mouth of Chiron's hollow cave. The rocks re-echo shrill; the beasts of forest wild Stand at the cavern's mouth, in listening trance beguil'd: The birds surround the den; and, as in weary rest, They drop their fluttering wings, forgetful of the nest. Amazed the Centaur saw: his clapping hands he beat, And stamp'd in extasy the rock with hoof'd and horny feet. When Tiphys threads the cave, and bids the Minyan train To hurry swift on board; and thus I ceased my strain. The Argonauts leap'd up in haste, and snatch'd their arms again. Then Peleus to his breast his boy, embracing, rears; Kissing his head and beauteous eyes, and smiling through his tears. Achilles so was soothed; and, as I left the cave, A leopard's spotted skin, in pledge, the Centaur gave. Forth from the den we sprang, down from the mountain high; The aged Centaur spread his raised hands tow'rds the sky: And call'd on all the gods a safe return to give, That, fam'd in ages yet unborn, the youthful kings might live. Descending to the shore, we climb'd the bark again; Each press'd his former bench and lash'd with oar the main; Huge Pelion's mountain swift receded from our view, And o'er vast Ocean's green expanse the foam white-chafing flew. TO THE MOON. HEAVENLY Selene! goddess queen! that shedd'st abroad the light! Bull-horned moon! air-habiting! thou wanderer through the night! Moon, bearer of the nightly torch! thou star-encircled maid! Female at once, and male the same; still fresh, and still decay'd! Thou! that in thy steeds delight'st, as they whirl thee through the sky: Clothed in brightness! mighty mother of the rapid years that fly! Fruit-dispenser! amber-visaged! melancholy, yet serene! All-beholding! sleep-enamour'd! still with trooping planets seen! Quiet-loving! who in pleasaunce, and in plenty takest delight! Joy-diffusing! fruit-maturing! sparkling ornament of night! Swiftly-pacing! ample-vested! star-bright! all-divining maid! Come benignant! come spontaneous ! with thy starry sheen array'd! Sweetly-shining! save us, virgin! give thy holy suppliants aid! FROM THE ORPHIC REMAINS. I. ONE self-existent lives: created things Of old Chaldeans: he, to whom was known Himself, above the firmament's broad arch, With his omniscient grasp. So speaks the lore II. JOVE is the first and last; 'who th' infant thunder hurl'd; Jove is the head and midst; the framer of the world; Jove is a male; a nymph of bloom immortal, Jove; Jove is the base of earth, and starry Heaven above. Jove is the breath of all; the force of quenchless flame; The root of ocean, Jove; the sun and moon, the same. Jove is the King, the Sire, whence generation sprang; One strength, one Demon, great, on whom all beings hang; |