For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurl'd Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curl'd Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world: Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands, Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery sands, Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying hands. But they smile, they find a music centred in a doleful song Steaming up, a lamentation and an ancient tale of wrong, Like a tale of little meaning though the words are strong; Chanted from an ill-us'd race of men that cleave the soil, Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with enduring toil, Storing yearly little dues of wheat, and wine, and oil: τῆλε δ ̓ ἐν οὔρεσι βροντὰ καναχεῖ χρύσεα δώματα πρὸς θεοτερπῆ, στροφοδινοῦνταί τ ̓ ἀμφὶς νεφελαὶ, περὶ δ ̓ οὐράνιος στίλβει πόλος ἀστεροφεγγής. οἱ δ ̓ ὀρυμάγδῳ γᾶν βροτολοίγῳ διαπερθομέναν, βρύχιον πέλαγος, χθόνα σεισθεῖσαν, ψάμμον φλογέαν, ὀλοᾷ λοιμοῦ λιμὸν ἐπ ̓ ἄτῃ, καταθραυομένας ναῦς ἐνὶ κύμασιν, ἀστέων ἄμοτον πῦρ καιομένων, χεῖράς θ ̓ ἱκετῶν, λάθρα χαίρουσιν ὁρῶντες. τὸ δὲ θρηνῶδες μέλος ὠγύγιον πέρι τερπομένοις ὦσι δέχονται, κοὐκ ἀλέγουσιν δεινὰ λεγόντων, τὸ παρ' ἀνθρώπων αἰκιζομένων εἰσαναβαῖνον δώματ' Ὀλύμπου τῶν τλασιπόνων, τῶν ἀροτήρων, φιτυθείσας οἵ τ ̓ ἀπὸ γαίας σῖτον ἐτήσιον, οἶνον, ἔλαιον, διασώζουσιν κομίσαντες. 1 Asch. Prom. 94. Till they perish, and they suffer-some, 'tis whisper'd— down in hell Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell, Resting weary limbs at length on beds of asphodel. Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore Than labour in mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar: Oh rest ye, brother-mariners, we will not wander more. θανατωθέντες δ' οἱ μὲν ἐν Αΐδου, φεῦ μόχθων λήγεθ', ἑταῖροι. L. 1860. Ode to Adversity. DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power, The proud are taught to taste of pain, With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. When first thy Sire to send on earth And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe. GRAY. |