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My sire secured them on that fatal day,
All the rewards which once to thee were vow'd, Nor left such bowls an Argive robber's prey:
If thou shouldst fall, on her shall be bestow'd." Two massy tripods, also, shall be thine,
Thus spoke the weeping prince, then forth to view Tuo talents polish'd from the glittering mine;
A gleaming falchion from the sheath he drew; An ancient cup, which Tyrian Dido gave,
Lycaon's utmost skill had graced the steel, While yet our vessels press'd the Punic wave: For friends to envy and for foes to feel : But when the hostile chiefs at length bow down, A tawny hide, the Moorish lion's spoil, When great Æneas wears Hesperia's crown,
Slain midst the forest, in the hunter's toil, The casque, the buckler, and the fiery steed
Mnestheus to guard the elder youth bestows, Which Turnus guides with more than mortal speed, And old Alethes' casque defends his brows. Are thine ; no envious lot shall then be cast,
Arm'd, thence they go, while all th' assembled train, I pledge my word, irrevocably past:
To aid their cause, implore the gods in vain.
His prayer he sends; but what can prayers avail, The labours of to-night shall well repay.
Lost in the murmurs of the sighing gale !" But thou, my generous youth, whose tender years
The trench is pass'd, and, favour'd by the night, Are near my own, whose worth my heart reveres,
Through sleeping foes they wheel their wary fight. Henceforth affection, sweetly thus begun,
When shall the sleep of many a foe be o'er ? Shall join our bosoms and our souls in one ;
Alas! some slumber who shall wake no more! Without thy aid, no glory shall be mine;
Chariots and bridles, mix'd with arms, are scen; Without thy dearadvice, no great design;
And flowing flasks, and scatter'd troops between ; Alike through life esteem'd, thou godlike boy,
Bacchus and Mars to rule the camp combine; In war my bulwark, and in peace my joy.'
A mingled chaos this of war and wine. To him Euryalus: 'No day shall shame
• Now,' cries the first, for deeds of blood prepare, The rising glories which from this I claim.
With me the conquest and the labour share :
Here lies our path ; lest any hand arise, Fortune may favour, or the skies may frown,
Watch thou, while many a dreaming chieftain dies; But valour, spite of fate, obtains renown.. Yet, ere from hence our eager steps depart,
I'll carve our passage through the heedless foe,
And clear thy road with many a deadly blow.' One boon I beg, the nearest to my heart :
His whispering accents then the youth repressid, My mother, sprung from Priam's royal line,
And pierced proud Rhamnes through his panting Like thine ennobled, hardly less divine,
breast: Nor Troy, nor king Acestes' realms restrain
Stretch'd at his case, th' incautious king reposed; Her feeble age from dangers of the main ;
Debauch, and not fatigue, his eyes had closed : Alone she came, all selfish fears above, A bright example of maternal love.
To Turnus dear, a prophet and a prince, Unknown the secret enterprise I brave,
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' armour-bearer, hapless, fell,
And three unhappy slaves the carnage swell ; Her parting tears would shake my purpose now:
The charioteer along his courser's sides Do thou, my prince, her failing age sustain,
Expires, the steel his sever'd neck divides : In thee her much-loved child may live again;
And, last, his lord is number'd with the dead: Her dying hours with pious conduct bless,
Bounding convulsive, flies the gasping head;
From the swoll'n veins the blackening torrents pour : Assist her wants, relieve her fond distress:
Stain'd is the couch and earth with clotting gore. So dear a hope must all my soul inflame, To rise in glory, or to fall in fame.'
Young Lamyrus and Lamus next expire, Struck with a filial care so deeply felt,
And gay Serranus, filled with youthful fire; In tears at once the Trojan warriors melt:
Half the long night in childish games was pass'd; Faster than all, Iulus' eyes o'erflow;
Lull'd by the potent grape, he slept at last; Such love was his, and such had been his woe.
Ah! happier far had he the morn survey'd, *All thou hast asked, receive,' the prince replied ;
And till Aurora's dawn his skill display'd. •Nor this alone, but many a gift beside.
In slaughter'd fold, the keepers lost in sleep, To cheer thy mother's years shall be my aim,
His hungry fangs a lion thus may steep; Creusa's style but wanting to the dame.*
Mid the sad flock, at dead of night he prowls, Fortune an adverse, wayward course may run, With murder glutted, and in carnage rolls : But bless'd thy mother in so dear a son.
Insatiate still, through teeming herds he roams; Now, by my life !--my sire's most sacred oath In seas of gore the lordly tyrant foams. To thee I pledge my full, my firmest troth,
Nor less the other's deadly vengeance came,
But falls on feeble crowds without a name: The mother of Iulys, lost on the night when Troy His wound unconscious Fadus scarce can feel, was taken,
Yet wakeful Rhesus sees the threatening steel;
His coward breast behind a jar he hides,
| Him with loud shouts the furious knights pursue, And vainly in the weak defence confides ;
Struggling in vain, a captive to the crew. Full in his heart, the falchion search'd his veins, What can his friend 'gainst thronging numbers dare! The reeking weapon bears alternate stalns ;
Ah I must he rush, his comrade's fate to share ? Through wine and blood, commingling as they flow, What force, what aid, what stratagem essay: One feeble spirit seeks the shades below.
Back to redeem the Latian spoiler's prey ?
Or die with him for whom he wish'd to live?
On Luna's orb he cast his frenzied eye: Brave Nisus here arrests his comrade's arm,
. Goddess serene, transcending every star! Too flush'd with carnage, and with conquest warm : Queen of the sky, whose beams are seen afar! • Hence let us haste, the dangerous path is pass'd; By night heaven owns thy sway, by day the grove, Full foes enough to-night have breathed their last: When, as chaste Dian, here thou deign'st to rove Soon will the day those eastern clouds adorn; If e'er myself, or sire, have sought to grace Now let us speed, nor tempt the rising morn.' Thine altars with the produce of the chase,
Speed, speed my dart to pierce yon vaunting crowd, What silver arms, with various art emboss'd,
To free my friend, and scatter far the proud. What bowls and mantles in confusion toss'd,
Thus having said, the hissing dart he fung; They leave regardless ! yet one glittering prize
Through parted shades the hurtling weapon sung; Attracts the younger hero's wandering eyes;
The thirsty point in Sulmo's entrails lay, The gilded harness Rhamnes' coursers felt,
Transfix'd his heart, and stretch'd him on the clay : The gems which stud the monarch's golden belt
He sobs, he dies,--the troop in wild amaze, This from the pallid corse was quickly torn,
Unconscious whence the death, with horror gaze. Once by a line of former chieftains worn.
While pale they stare, through Tagus' temples riven, Th' exulting boy the studded girdle wears,
A second shaft with equal force is driven : Messapus' helm his head in triumph bears ;
Fierce Volscens rolls around his lowering eyes ; Then from the tents their cautious steps they bend,
Veil'd by the night, secure the Trojan lies. To seek the vale where safer paths extend.
Burning with wrath, he view'd his soldiers fall.
1. Thou youth accurst, thy life shall pay for all !' Just at this hour, a band of Latian horse
Quick from the sheath his flaming glaive he drew, To Turnus' camp pursue their destined course: While the slow foot their tardy march delay,
And, raging, on the boy defenceless flew.
Nisus no more the blackening shade conceals, The knights, impatient, spur along the way:
Forth, forth he starts, and all his love reveals; Three hundred mail-clad men, by Volscens led,
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. The plunder'd helmet, through the waning night,
Ye starry spheres ! thou conscious Heaven I attest! Sheds forth a silver radiance, glancing bright.
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 1 from him your rage remove; Trusting the covert of the night, they fly : The thicket's depth with hurried pace they tread,
His fault was friendship, all his criine was love.' While round the wood the hostile squadron spread.
He pray'd in vain; the dark assassin's sword
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; Then backward o'er the plain his eyes extend,
Thus, sweetly drooping, bends his lovely head, On every side they seek his absent friend.
And lingering beauty hovers round the dead. . God! my boy,' he cries, of me bereft,
But fiery Nisus stems the battle's tide, In what impending perils art thou left!"
Revenge his leader, and despair his guide: Listening he runs-above the waving trees,
Volscens he seeks amidst the gathering host, Tumultuous voices swell the passing breeze ;
Volscens must soon appease his comrade's ghost; The war-cry rises, thundering hoofs around
Steel, fashing, pours on steel, foe crowds on foe; Wake the dark echoes of the trembling ground. Rage nerves his arm, fate gleams in every blow; Again he turns, of footsteps hears the noise
In vain beneath unnumber'd wounds he bleeds, The sound elates, the sight his hope destroys:
Nor wounds, nor death, distracted Nisus heeds; The hapless boy a ruffian train surround,
In viewless circies wheel'd, his falchion flics, While lengthening shades his weary way confound; Nor quits the hero's grasp till Volscens dies;
Deep in his throat its end the weapon found,
Ah! hapless dame! no sire bewails.. The tyrant's soul fled groaning through the wound
No friend thy wretched late deplores, Thus Nisus all his fond affection proved
No kindred voice with rapture hails Dying, revenged the fate of him he loved ;
Thy steps within a stranger's doors. Then on his bosom sought his wonted place, And death was heavenly in his friend's embrace.
Perish the fiend whose iron heart,
To fair affection's truth unknowti, Celestial pair I if aught my verse can claim,
Bids her he fondly loved depart, Wasted on Time's broad pinion, yours is fame!
Unpitied, helpless, and alone ; Ages on ages shall your fate admire,
Who ne'er unlocks with silver keyt No future day shall see your names expire,
The milder treasures of his soul,-While stands the Capitol, immortal dome!
May such a friend be far from me, And vanquish'd millions hail their empress, Rome!
And ocean's storms between us roll!
TRANSLATION FROM THE MEDEA OF
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 woe? The hope of praise, the dread of shame,
Can rouse the tortured breast 110 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,
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 !
Awakes an all-consuming fire:
With others wage internal war;
From me be ever distant far!
The holy calm of sacred love!
Which hover faithful hearts above! Fair Venus ! on thy myrtle shrine
May I with some fond lover sigh, Whose heart inay mingle pure with mine
With me to live, with me to die My native soil ! beloved before,
Now dearer as my peaceful home, Ne'er may I quit thy rocky shore,
A hapless banishd 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 condeinn'd to fly,
A pousive weary wanderer here?
THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A COLLEGE
Happy the youth in Euclid's axioms tried,
Such is the youth whose scientific pate Class-honours, 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 borrow'd grace of action must be seen ; The slightest motion would displease the Dean,
· 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. 1 + The original ineans literally, disclosing the bright key of the mind.'
Whilst every staring graduate would prate
As thus our glances oft conversed, Against what he could never imitate.
And all our bosoms felt rehearsed,
No spirit, from within, reproved us, The man who hopes t' obtain the promised cup
Say rather, ''twas the spirit moved us.' Must in one posture stand, and ne'er look up;
Though what they utter'd I repress, Nor stop, but rattle over every word
Yet I conceive thou'lt partly guess; No matter what, so it can not be heard.
For as on thee my memory ponders, Thus let him hurry on, nor think to rest :
Perchance to me thine also wanders. Who speaks the fastest 's sure to speak the best ;
This for myself, at least, I'll say, Who utters most within the shortest space
Thy form appears through night, through day; May safely hope to win the wordy race.
Awake, with it my fancy teems; The sons of science these, who, thus repaid,
In sleep, it smiles in fleeting dreams;
The vision charms the hours away, Linger in ease in Granta's sluggish shade;
And bids me curse Aurora's ray
For breaking slumbers of delight,
Which make me wish for endless night.
Since, oh! whate'er my future fate, They think all learning fix'd within their walls:
Shall joy or woe my steps await, In manners rude, in foolish forms precise,
Tempted by love, by storms beset,
Thine image I can ne'er forget.
Alas! again no more we meet,
No more our former looks repeat; Sad as their wit, and tedious as their tale;'
Then let me breathe this parting prayer, To friendship dead, though not untaught to feel
The dictate of my bosom's care: When Self and Church demand a bigot zeal.
May Heaven so guard my lovely quaker, With eager haste they court the lord of power,
That anguish never can o'ertake her; Whether 'tis Pitt or Petty rules the hour;
That peace and virtue ne'er forsake her, To him, with suppliant smiles, they bend the head,
But bliss be aye her heart's partaker While distant mitres to their eyes are spread.
Oh! may the happy mortal fated But should a storm o'erwhelm him with disgrace,
To be, by dearest ties, related, They'd fly to seek the next who fill'd his place.
For her each hour new joys discover, Such are the men who learning's treasures guard!
And lose the husband in the lover! Such is their practice, such is their reward !
May that fair bosom never know This much, at least, we may presume to say
What 'tis to feel the restless woe,
Which stings the soul with vain regret
TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER.
No specious splendour of this stor
Endears it to my memory ever;
And blushes modest as the giver.
SWEET girl! though only once we met,
Somne, who can sneer at friendship's ties,
Have for my weakness oft reproved me; Yet still the simple gift I prize,
For I am sure the giver loved me.
He offer'd it with downcast look,
As fearful that I might refuse it ;
What though we never silence broke,
This pledge attentively I view'd,
And sparkling as I held it near, Methought one drop the stone bedew'd,
And ever since I've loved a tear,
• Professor Porson, of Trinity College, Cambridge; a man whose powers of mind and writings may perhaps justify their preference,
Still, to adorn his humble youth,
Nor wealth nor birth their treasures yield;
'Tis not the plant preard in sloth,
These feelings wide, let sense and truth unclue, Which beauty shows, and sheds perfume; We give the palm where justice points it's due." The flowers which yield the most of both
TO WHICH THE AUTHOR OF THESE PIECES In Nature's wild luxuriance bloom.
SENT THE FOLLOWING REPLY,
O FACTIOUS viper ! whose envenom'd tooth
Would mangle still the dead, perverting truth; His would have been an ample share,
What though our nation's foes' lament the late, If well proportioned to his mind.
With generous feeling, of the good and great,
Shall dastard tongues essay to blast the name
of him whose meed exists in endless fame?
When Pitt expired in plenitude of power,
Though ill success obscured his dying hour,
His friends, in tears, a last sad requiem gave.
As all his errors slumber'd in the grave;
He sunk, an Atlas bending 'neath the weight OF THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE' AT A PRIVATE
of cares o'erwhelming our conflicting state: THEATKE.
When, lo! a Hercules in Fox appear'd,
Who for a time the ruin'd fabric rear'd; SINCE the refinement of this polish'd age
He, too, is fall'n, who Britain's loss supplied, Has swept immoral raillery from the stage:
With him our fast-reviving hopes have died; Since taste has now expunged licentious wit,
Not one great people only raise his urn, Which stamp'd disgrace on all an author writ:
All Europe's far-extended regions inourn. Since now to please with purer scenes we seek, *These feelings wide, let sense and truth unclue, Nor dare to call the blush from Beauty's cheek;
To give the palm where Justice points it's due;' Oh ! let the modest Muse some pity claim,
Yet let not canker'd Calumny assail, And meet indulgence, though she find not fame.
Or round our statesman wind her gloomy veil. Still, not for her alone we wish respect,
Fox! o'er whose corse a mourning world must weep, Others appear more conscious of defect:
Whose dear remains in honour'd marble sleep; To-night no veteran Roscii you behold,
For whom, at last, e'en hostile nations groan, In all the arts of scenic action old;
While friends and foes alike his talents own; No Cooke, no Kemble, can salute you here,
Fox shall in Britain's future annals shine, No Siddons draw the sympathetic tear;
Nor e'en to Pitt the patriot's palm resign; To-night you throng to witness the début
Which Envy, wearing Candour's sacred mask, Of embryo actors, to the Drama new :
For Pitt, and Pitt alone, has dared to ask,
O lachrymarum fons, tenero sacros Not one poor trembler only fear betrays,
Ducentium ortus ex animo; quater Who hopes, yet almost dreads, to meet your praise;
Felix I in imo qui scatentem But all our dramatis persona wait
Pectore te, pia Nympha, sensit.'--GRAY. In fond suspense this crisis of their fate.
WHEN Friendship or Love our sympathies move, No venal views our progress can retard,
When Truth in a glance should appear, Your generous plaudits are our sole reward.
The lips may beguile with a dimple or smile, For these, each Hero all his power displays,
But the test of affection's a Tear. Each timid Heroine shrinks before your gaze.
Too oft is a smile but the hypocrite's wile. Surely the last will some protection find;
To mask detestation or fear; None to the softer sex can prove unkind:
Give me the soft sigh, whilst the soul-telling eye While Youth and Beauty form the female shield,
Is dimm'd for å time with a Tear.
Mild Charity's glow, to us mortals below,
Shows the soul from barbarity clear; Still let some mercy in your bosoms live,
Compassion will melt where this virtue is felt, And, if you can't applaud, at least forgive,
And its dew is diffused in a Tear.
Through billows Atlantic to steer,
As he bends o'er the wave which may soon Lehis THE FOLLOWING ILLIBERAL IMPROMPTU
grave, APPEARED IN A MORNING PAPER
The green sparkles bright with a Tear.
The soldier braves death for a fanciful wrea: h •OUR nation's foes lament on Fox's death, But bless the hour when Pitt resign'd his breath:1 In Glory's romantic career;