Blackwood
(two
pieces by the late Sir Theodore Martin, Nos.
pieces by the late Sir Theodore Martin, Nos.
Oxford Book of Latin Verse
accipe fortunam generis, diadema resume,
quod tribuas natis, et in haec penetralia rursus,
unde parens progressa, redi. fac nulla subesse
uincula cognatae: quamuis aliena fuisses
principibus, regnum poteras hoc ore mereri.
quae propior sceptris facies? qui dignior aula
uultus erat? non labra rosae, non colla pruinae,
non crinis aequant uiolae, non lumina flammae.
quam iuncti leuiter sese discrimine confert
umbra supercilii! miscet quam iusta pudorem
temperies nimio nec sanguine candor abundat!
Aurorae uincis digitos umerosque Dianae;
ipsam iam superas matrem. si Bacchus amator
dotali potuit caelum signare corona,
cur nullis uirgo redimitur pulcrior astris?
iam tibi molitur stellantia serta Bootes
inque decus Mariae iam sidera parturit aether.
o digno nectenda uiro tantique per orbem
consors imperii! iam te uenerabitur Hister;
nomen adorabunt Thulani; Rhenus et Albis
seruiet; in medios ibis regina Sygambros.
quid numerem gentis Atlanteosque recessus
oceani? toto pariter donabere mundo. '
dixit et ornatus, dederant quos nuper ouantes
Nereides, collo membrisque micantibus aptat.
ipsa caput distinguit acu, substringit amictus;
flammea uirgineis accommodat ipsa capillis.
ante fores iam pompa sonat, pilentaque sacra
praeradiant ductura nurum. calet obuius ire
iam princeps tardumque cupit discedere solem:
nobilis haud aliter sonipes, quem primus amoris
sollicitauit odor, tumidus quatiensque decoras
curuata ceruice iubas Pharsalia rura
peruolat et notos hinnitu flagitat amnis
naribus accensis; mulcet fecunda magistros
spes gregis et pulcro gaudent armenta marito.
candidus interea positis exercitus armis
exsultat socerum circa; nec signifer ullus
nec miles pluuiae flores dispergere ritu
cessat purpureoque ducem perfundere nimbo.
haec quoque uelati lauro myrtoque canebant:
'diue parens, seu te complectitur axis Olympi,
seu premis Elysias, animarum praemia, uallis,
en promissa tibi Stilicho iam uota peregit;
iam gratae rediere uices; cunabula pensat;
acceptum reddit thalamum, natoque reponit
quod dederat genitor. numquam te, sancte, pigebit
iudicii nec te pietas suprema fefellit.
dignus cui leges, dignus cui pignora tanti
principis et rerum commendarentur habenae.
dicere possemus quae proelia gesta sub Haemo
quaeque cruentarint fumantem Strymona pugnae,
quam notus clipeo, quanta ui fulminet hastam,
ni prohiberet Hymen. quae tempestiua relatu,
nunc canimus. quis consilio, quis iuris et aequi
nosse modum melior? quod semper dissilit, in te
conuenit, ingenio robur, prudentia marti.
fronte quis aequali? quem sic Romana decerent
culmina? sufficerent tantis quae pectora curis?
stes licet in populo, clamet quicumque uidebit:
hic est, hic Stilicho! sic se testatur et offert
celsa potestatis species, non uoce feroci,
non alto simulata gradu, non improba gestu.
affectant alii quidquid fingique laborant,
hoc donat natura tibi. pudor emicat una
formosusque rigor uultusque auctura uerendos
canities festina uenit. cum sorte remota
contingat senio grauitas uiresque iuuentae,
utraque te cingit propriis insignibus aetas.
ornatur Fortuna uiro. non ulla nocendi
tela nec infecti iugulis ciuilibus enses.
non odium terrore moues nec frena resoluit
gratia; diligimus pariter pariterque timemus.
ipse metus te noster amat, iustissime legum
arbiter, egregiae pacis fidissime custos,
optime ductorum, fortunatissime patrum.
plus iam, plus domino cuncti debere fatemur,
quod gener est, inuicte, tuus. uincire corona;
insere te nostris contempto iure choreis.
sic puer Eucherius superet uirtute parentem;
aurea sic uideat similis Thermantia taedas;
sic uterus crescat Mariae; sic natus in ostro
paruus Honoriades genibus considat auitis. '
_368. The Recluse_
FELIX, qui propriis aeuum transegit in aruis,
ipsa domus puerum quem uidet, ipsa senem,
qui baculo nitens in qua reptauit harena
unius numerat saecula longa casae.
ilium non uario traxit fortuna tumultu,
nec bibit ignotas mobilis hospes aquas.
non freta mercator tremuit, non classica miles,
non rauci lites pertulit ille fori.
indocilis rerum, uicinae nescius urbis,
adspectu fruitur liberiore poli.
frugibus alternis, non consule computat annum:
autumnum pomis, uer sibi flore notat.
idem condit ager soles idemque reducit,
metiturque suo rusticus orbe diem,
ingentem meminit paruo qui germine quercum
aequaeuumque uidet consenuisse nemus,
proxima cui nigris Verona remotior Indis
Benacumque putat litora Rubra lacum.
sed tamen indomitae uires firmisque lacertis
aetas robustum tertia cernit auum.
erret et extremos alter scrutetur Hiberos:
plus habet hic uitae, plus habet ille uiae.
_369. Epistle to Serena_
ORPHEA cum primae sociarent omina taedae
ruraque compleret Thracia festus Hymen,
certauere ferae picturataeque uolucres,
dona suo uati quae potiora darent,
quippe antri memores, cautes ubi saepe sonorae
praebuerant dulci mira theatra lyrae.
Caucasio crystalla ferunt de uertice lynces,
grypes Hyperborei pondera fulua soli.
furatae Veneris prato per inane columbae
florea conexis serta tulere rosis,
fractaque flebilium ramis electra sororum
cycnus oloriferi uexit ab amne Padi,
et Nilo Pygmaea grues post bella remenso
ore legunt Rubri germina cara maris.
uenit et extremo Phoenix longaeuus ab Euro
adportans unco cinnama rara pede.
nulla auium pecudumque fuit quae ferre negaret
uectigal meritae conubiale lyrae.
tunc opibus totoque Heliconis sedula regno
ornabat propriam Calliopea nurum.
ipsam praeterea dominam stellantis Olympi
ad nati thalamos ausa rogare parens.
nec spreuit regina deum uel matris honore
uel iusto uatis ducta fauore pii,
qui sibi carminibus totiens lustrauerat aras
Iunonis blanda numina uoce canens
proeliaque altisoni referens Phlegraea mariti,
Titanum fractas Enceladique minas.
ilicet aduentu noctem dignata iugalem
addidit augendis munera sacra toris,
munera mortalis non admittentia cultus,
munera, quae solos fas habuisse deos.
sed quod Threicio Iuno placabilis Orphei,
hoc poteris uotis esse, Serena, meis;
illius exspectent famulantia sidera nutum.
sub pedibus regitur terra fretumque tuis.
non ego, cum peterem, sollemni more procorum
promisi gregibus pascua plena meis
nec, quod mille mihi lateant sub palmite colles
fluctuet et glauca pinguis oliua coma,
nec, quod nostra Ceres numerosa falce laboret
aurataeque ferant culmina celsa trabes.
suffecit mandasse deam: tua littera nobis
et pecus et segetes et domus ampla fuit.
inflexit soceros et maiestate petendi
texit pauperiem nominis umbra tui.
quid non perficeret scribentis uoce Serenae
uel genius regni uel pietatis amor?
atque utinam sub luce tui contingeret oris
coniugis et castris et solio generi
optatum celebrare diem! me iungeret auspex
purpura, me sancto cingeret aula choro!
et mihi quam scriptis desponderat ante puellam,
coniugiis eadem pronuba dextra daret!
nunc medium quoniam uotis maioribus aequor
inuidet et Libycae dissidet ora plagae,
saltem absens, regina, faue reditusque secundos
adnue sidereo laeta supercilio.
terrarum tu pande uias, tu mitibus Euris
aequora pacari prosperiora iube,
ut tibi Pierides doctumque fluens Aganippe
debita seruato uota cliente canant.
_370. Love in a Cottage_
PAVPERTAS me saeua domat dirusque Cupido:
sed toleranda fames, non tolerandus amor.
AVIANVS
circa 400 A. D. (? )
_371. The Ass in the Lion's Skin_
METIRI se quemque decet propriisque iuuari
laudibus, alterius nec bona ferre sibi,
ne detracta grauem faciant miracula risum,
coeperit in solitis cum remanere modis.
exuuias asinus defuncti forte leonis
repperit et spoliis induit ora nouis.
aptauitque suis incongrua tegmina membris
et miserum tanto pressit honore caput.
ast ubi terribilis mimo circumstetit horror
pigraque praesumptus uenit in ossa uigor,
mitibus ille feris communia pabula calcans
turbabat pauidas per sua rura boues.
rusticus hunc magna postquam deprendit ab aure,
correptum stimulis uerberibusque domat;
et simul abstracto denudans corpora tergo
increpat his miserum uocibus ille pecus;
'forsitan ignotos imitato murmure fallas;
at mihi, qui quondam, semper asellus eris. '
_372. The Peacock and the Crane_
THREICIAM uolucrem fertur Iunonius ales
communi sociam non tenuisse cibo
(nam propter uarias fuerat discordia formas,
magnaque de facili iurgia lite trahunt),
quod sibi multimodo fulgerent membra decore,
caeruleam facerent liuida terga gruem;
et simul erectae circumdans tegmina caudae
sparserat arcatum sursus in astra iubar.
illa licet nullo pinnarum certet honore,
his tamen insultans uocibus usa datur:
'quamuis innumerus plumas uariauerit ordo,
mersus humi semper florida terga geris:
ast ego deformi sublimis in aera pinna
proxima sideribus numinibusque feror. '
RVTILIVS CLAVDIVS NAMATIANVS
fl. 416 A. D.
_373. Rome_
EXAVDI, regina tui pulcerrima mundi,
inter sidereos Roma recepta polos,
exaudi, nutrix hominum genetrixque deorum
(non procul a caelo per tua templa sumus):
te canimus semperque, sinent dum fata, canemus:
hospes nemo potest immemor esse tui.
obruerint citius scelerata obliuia solem,
quam tuus ex nostro corde recedat honos.
nam solis radiis aequalia munera pendis,
qua circumfusus fluctuat oceanus.
uoluitur ipse tibi qui continet omnia Phoebus
eque tuis ortos in tua condit equos.
te non flammigeris Libye tardauit harenis,
non armata suo reppulit Vrsa gelu:
quantum uitalis natura tetendit in axis,
tantum uirtuti peruia terra tuae.
fecisti patriam diuersis gentibus unam:
profuit inuitis te dominante capi.
dumque offers uictis proprii consortia iuris,
urbem fecisti quod prius orbis erat.
auctores generis Venerem Martemque fatemur,
Aeneadum matrem Romulidumque patrem:
mitigat armatas uictrix clementia uiris,
conuenit in mores numen utrumque tuos:
hinc tibi certandi bona parcendique uoluptas
quos timuit superat, quos superauit amat.
inuentrix oleae colitur uinique repertor
et qui primus humo pressit aratra puer,
aras Paeoniam meruit medicina per artem,
fretus et Alcides nobilitate deus:
tu quoque, legiferis mundum complexa triumphis,
foedere communi uiuere cuncta facis.
te, dea, te celebrat Romanus ubique recessus
pacificumque gerunt libera colla iugum.
omnia perpetuo quae seruant sidera motu,
nullum uiderunt pulcrius imperium.
quid simile Assyriis conectere contigit armis?
Medi finitimos condomuere suos.
magni Parthorum reges Macetumque tyranni
mutua per uarias iura dedere uices.
nec tibi nascenti plures animaeque manusque,
sed plus consilii iudiciique fuit.
iustis bellorum causis nec pace superba
nobilis ad summas gloria uenit opes.
quod regnas minus est quam quod regnare mereris:
excedis factis grandia fata tuis.
percensere labor densis decora alta trophaeis,
ut si quis stellas pernumerare uelit;
confunduntque uagos delubra micantia uisus:
ipsos crediderim sic habitare deos.
quid loquar aerio pendentis fornice riuos,
qua uix imbriferas tolleret Iris aquas?
hos potius dicas creuisse in sidera montis;
tale giganteum Graecia laudet opus.
intercepta tuis conduntur flumina muris;
consumunt totos celsa lauacra lacus.
nec minus et propriis celebrantur roscida uenis
totaque natiuo moenia fonte sonant.
frigidus aestiuas hinc temperat halitus auras;
innocuamque leuat purior unda sitim.
nempe tibi subitus calidarum gurges aquarum
rupit Tarpeias hoste premente uias.
si foret aeternus, casum fortasse putarem:
auxilio fluxit, qui rediturus erat.
quid loquar inclusas inter laquearia siluas,
uernula quae uario carmine laudat auis?
uere tuo numquam mulceri desinit annus;
deliciasque tuas uicta tuetur hiems.
erige crinalis lauros seniumque sacrati
uerticis in uiridis, Roma, refinge comas.
aurea turrigero radient diademata cono,
perpetuosque ignis aureus umbo uomat.
abscondat tristem deleta iniuria casum:
contemptus solidet uulnera clausa dolor.
aduersis sollemne tuis sperare secunda:
exemplo caeli ditia damna subis.
astrorum flammae renouant occasibus ortus;
lunam finiri cernis, ut incipiat.
uictoris Brenni non distulit Allia poenam;
Samnis seruitio foedera saeua luit;
post multas Pyrrhum cladis superata fugasti;
fleuit successus Hannibal ipse suos;
quae mergi nequeunt, nisu maiore resurgunt
exsiliuntque imis altius acta uadis;
utque nouas uiris fax inclinata resumit,
clarior ex humili sorte superna petis.
porrige uicturas dominantia saecula leges
solaque fatalis non uereare colos,
quamuis sedecies denis et mille peractis
annus praeterea iam tibi nonus eat.
quae restant, nullis obnoxia tempora metis,
dum stabunt terrae, dum polus astra feret!
illud te reparat, quod cetera regna resoluit:
ordo renascendi est, crescere posse malis.
ergo age, sacrilegae tandem cadat hostia gentis:
submittant trepidi perfida colla Getae.
ditia pacatae dent uectigalia terrae:
impleat augustos barbara praeda sinus.
aeternum tibi Rhenus aret, tibi Nilus inundet,
altricemque suam fertilis orbis alat.
quin et fecundas tibi conferat Africa messis,
sole suo diues, sed magis imbre tuo.
interea et Latiis consurgant horrea sulcis,
pinguiaque Hesperio nectare prela fluant.
ipse triumphali redimitus arundine Thybris
Romuleis famulas usibus aptet aquas;
atque opulenta tibi placidis commercia ripis
deuehat hinc ruris, subuehat inde maris.
pande, precor, gemino placatum Castore pontum,
temperet aequoream dux Cytherea uiam;
si non displicui, regerem cum iura Quirini,
si colui sanctos consuluique patres.
nam quod nulla meum strinxerunt crimina ferrum,
non sit praefecti gloria, sed populi.
siue datur patriis uitam componere terris,
siue oculis umquam restituere meis:
fortunatus agam uotoque beatior omni
semper digneris si meminisse mei.
C. SOLLIVS MODESTVS APOLLINARIS SIDONIVS
430-80 A. D.
_374. For the Marriage of Polemius and Araneola_
PROSPER conubio dies coruscat,
quem Clotho niueis benigna pensis,
albus quem picei lapillus Indi,
quem pacis simul arbor et iuuentae
aeternumque uirens oliua signet.
eia, Calliope, nitente palma
da sacri laticis loquacitatem,
quem fodit pede Pegasus uolanti
cognato madidus iubam ueneno.
non hic impietas, nec hanc puellam
donat mortibus ambitus procorum;
non hic Oenomai cruenta circo
audit pacta Pelops nec insequentem
pallens Hippomenes ad ima metae
tardat Schoenida ter cadente pomo;
non hic Herculeas uidet palaestras
Aetola Calydon stupens ab arce,
cum cornu fluuii superbientis
Alcides premeret, subinde fessum
undoso refouens ab hoste pectus;
sed doctus iuuenis decensque uirgo,
ortu culmina Galliae tenentes
iunguntur: cito, diua, necte chordas,
nec quod detonuit Camena maior,
nostram pauperiem silere cogas.
ad taedas Thetidis probante Phoebo
et Chiron cecinit minore plectro,
nec risit pia turba rusticantem,
quamuis saepe senex biformis illic
carmen rumperet hinniente cantu.
_375. A Gallic Baiae_
SI quis Auitacum dignaris uisere nostrum,
non tibi displiceat: sic quod habes placeat.
aemula Baiano tolluntur culmina cono
parque coturnato uertice fulget apex.
garrula Gauranis plus murmurat unda fluentis
contigui collis lapsa supercilio.
Lucrinum stagnum diues Campania nollet,
aequora si nostri cerneret illa lacus.
illud puniceis ornatur litus echinis,
piscibus in nostris, hospes, utrumque uides.
si libet et placido partiris gaudia corde,
quisquis ades, Baias tu facis his animo.
_376. An Invitation_
NATALIS noster Nonas instare Nouembris
admonet: occurras non rogo sed iubeo.
sit tecum coniunx, duo nunc properate: sed illud
post annum optamus tertius ut uenias.
_377. Epitaph of Filimatia_
OCCASV celeri feroque raptam
gnatis quinque patrique coniugique
hoc flentis patriae manus locarunt
matronam Filimatiam sepulcro.
o splendor generis, decus mariti,
prudens, casta, decens, seuera, dulcis,
atque ipsis senioribus sequenda,
discordantia quae solent putari
morum commoditate copulasti:
nam uitae comites bonae fuerunt
libertas grauis et pudor facetus.
hinc est quod decimam tuae saluti
uix actam trieteridem dolemus
atque in temporibus uigentis aeui
iniuste tibi iusta persoluta.
FLAVIVS FELIX
circa 480 A. D.
_378. To his Patron_
SIC tibi florentes aequaeuo germine nati
indolis aetheriae sidera celsa petant,
sic priscos uincant atauos clarosque parentis
exsuperent meritis saeclaque longa gerant,
sic subolis numerum transcendat turba nepotum
nobilibusque iuges gaudia tanta toris:
ne sterilem praestes indigno munere Musam,
utque soles, largus carmina nostra foue,
imperiis ut nostra tuis seruire Thalia
possit et in melius personet icta chelys.
LVXORIVS
circa 500 A. D.
_379. To his Readers_
PRISCOS cum haberes, quos probares, indices,
lector, placere qui bonis possent modis,
nostri libelli cur retexis paginam
nugis refertam friuolisque sensibus,
et quam tenello tiro lusi uiscere?
set forte doctis si illa cara est auribus
sonat pusilli quae leporis commate
nullo decora in ambitu sententiae,
hanc iure quaeris et libenter incohas,
uelut iocosa si theatra peruoles.
_380. The Garden of Eugetus_
HORTVS, quo faciles fluunt Napaeae,
quo ludunt Dryades choro uirente,
quo fouet teneras Diana Nymphas;
quo Venus roseos recondit artus,
quo fessus teretes Cupido flammas
suspensis reficit puer pharetris,
quo ferunt se Heliconides puellae;
cui numquam minus est amoena frondis,
cui semper redolent amoma uerni,
cui fons perspicuis tener fluentis
muscoso riguus salit meatu,
quo dulcis auium canor resultans
* * *
quidquid per Tyrias refertur urbis,
hoc uno famulans loco subaptat.
_381. A Rose with a hundred Petals_
HANC puto de proprio tinxit Sol aureus ortu
aut unum ex radiis maluit esse suis;
uel, si etiam centum foliis rosa Cypridis exstat,
fluxit in hanc omni sanguine tota Venus.
haec florum sidus, haec Lucifer almus in agris,
huic odor et color est dignus honore poli.
_382. A Water Urn with a Figure of Cupid_
IGNE salutifero Veneris puer omnia flammans
pro facibus facilis arte ministrat aquas.
_383. His Book's proper Place_
PARVVS nobilium cum liber ad domos
pomposique fori scrinia publica
cinctus multifido ueneris agmine,
nostri defugiens pauperiem laris,
quo dudum modico sordidus angulo
squalebas, tineis iam prope debitus,
si te despiciet turba legentium
inter Romulidas et Tyrias manus,
isto pro exsequiis claudere disticho:
contentos propriis esse decet focis,
quos laudis facile est inuidiam pati.
PHOCAS
circa 500 A. D. (? ).
_384. Poetry and Time_
(Prefixed to his Life of Vergil)
O VETVSTATIS ueneranda custos,
regios actus simul et fugacis
temporum cursus docilis referre,
aurea Clio,
tu nihil magnum sinis interire,
nil mori clarum pateris, reseruans
posteris prisci monumenta saecli
condita libris.
sola fucatis uariare dictis
paginas nescis, set aperta quicquid
ueritas prodit, recinis per aeuum
simplice lingua.
tu senescentis titulos auorum
flore durantis reparas iuuentae;
militat uirtus tibi: te notante
crimina pallent.
tu fori turbas strepitusque litis
effugis dulci moderata cantu,
nec retardari pateris loquellas
conpede metri.
his faue dictis: retegenda uita est
uatis Etrusci, modo qui perenne
Romulae uoci decus adrogauit
carmine sacro.
TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS
The Selection that follows needs some explanation. I have made no
systematic search in the literature of translation: and it is likely
enough that I have omitted renderings more beautiful, or more
interesting, than some which I have included. I have not tried to do
more than to collect together a few old 'favourites' of my own. Moreover
I have--save for one or two examples--confined myself to the four
principal Latin poets.
I have interpreted the word 'Imitations' rather widely. It is quite
possible, for example, that Clough never read Vergil's _Lines Written in
a Lecture-Room_ (Catalepton V): yet the poem of Clough which I have
brought into connexion with this piece is, I think, a truer translation
of it than could be found elsewhere. I will venture to hope, again, that
I may be readily forgiven for placing beside Statius' famous _Invocation
to Sleep_ six sonnets on a like subject from six English masters of the
sonnet-form.
I have to thank the following authors and publishers for permission to
reprint copyright pieces: Messrs. G. Bell & Sons (four versions by
Calverley, Nos. 67, 82, 145, 149), Prof. D. A. Slater (versions of
Lucretius, Nos. 66, 69, and Catullus, No. 97), Messrs.
Blackwood (two
pieces by the late Sir Theodore Martin, Nos. 92, 136), Prof. Ellis and
Mr. John Murray (version of Catullus, No. 85), The Syndics of the
Cambridge University Press and the Executors of the late Sir R. C. Jebb
(version of Catullus, No. 74), Mr. L. J. Latham and Messrs. Smith Elder
(version of Propertius, No. 179, from Mr. Latham's _Odes of Horace and
Other Verses_), Messrs. George Allen (version of Horace from the
_Ionica_ of the late William Cory, No. 148), Mr. John Murray (version of
Horace by Mr. Gladstone, No. 126), Dr. T. H. Warren and Mr. John Murray
(version of Vergil, No. 110), Mr. James Rhoades and Messrs. Kegan Paul
(version of Vergil, No. 119), Mr. W. H. Fyfe (version of Statius, No.
262).
_44_
By the side of this Epitaph may be placed Pope's Epitaph upon Mrs.
Corbet, with Johnson's comment:
HERE rests a woman good without pretence,
Blest with plain reason and with sober sense.
No conquest she, but o'er herself, desired,
No arts essayed but not to be admired.
Passion and pride were to her soul unknown,
Convinced that Virtue only is our own.
So unaffected, so composed a mind,
So firm, yet soft, so strong, yet so refined,
Heaven, as its purest gold, by tortures tried;
The saint sustained it, but the woman died.
'The subject of it', says Johnson, 'is a character not discriminated by
any shining or eminent peculiarities: yet that which really makes,
though not the splendour, the felicity of life, and that which every
wise man will choose for his final and lasting companion in the languor
of age, in the quiet of privacy, when he departs weary and disgusted
from the ostentatious, the volatile and the vain. Of such a character,
which the dull overlook, and the gay despise, it was fit that the value
should be made known and the dignity established. '
_66_
(Beginning at the third paragraph, _Illud in his rebus. . . _)
BUT here's the rub. There soon may come a time
You'll count right reason treason and the prime
Of mind the spring of guilt; whereas more oft
In blind Religion are the seeds of crime.
Think how at Aulis to the Trivian Maid
The hero-kings of Greece their homage paid,
The flower of men, whose impious piety
Iphianassa on the altar laid.
Behold the bride! upon her head the crown
Of ritual, that from either cheek let down
An equal streamer. But cold rapture hers
As on her father's face she marked the frown:
A frown of anguish: at his side the men
Of doom, and in their hands, screened from her ken,
Death; and her countrymen shed tears to see
The lamb, poor victim, in the lions' den.
Then dumb with fear, not tongue-tied with delight,
She drooped to earth. What profited it her plight
She was her father's first-born? Not the less
They took her. Death, not Love, ordained the rite.
His were the bridesmen, and the altar his
To which with quaking limbs in fearfulness
Uplifted then, sans song, sans ritual due,
She was brought home--but not to wedded bliss,
A maid, but marred not married, in the spring
Of life and love's sweet prime, to yield the king
A victim, and the fleet fair voyaging:
Such wrongs Religion in her train doth bring.
D. A. SLATER.
_67_
SWEET, when the great sea's water is stirred to his depths
by the storm-winds,
Standing ashore to descry one afar-off mightily struggling:
Not that a neighbour's sorrow to you yields dulcet enjoyment:
But that the sight hath a sweetness, of ills ourselves
are exempt from.
Sweet too 'tis to behold, on a broad plain mustering, war hosts
Arm them for some great battle, one's self
unscathed by the danger:--
Yet still happier this: to possess, impregnably guarded,
Those calm heights of the sages, which have for an origin Wisdom:
Thence to survey our fellows, observe them this way and that way
Wander amidst Life's path, poor stragglers seeking a highway:
Watch mind battle with mind, and escutcheon rival escutcheon:
Gaze on that untold strife, which is waged 'neath the sun
and the starlight,
Up as they toil on the surface whereon rest Riches and Empire.
O race born unto trouble! O minds all lacking of eye-sight!
'Neath what a vital darkness, amidst how terrible dangers
Move ye thro' this thing Life, this fragment! Fools that ye hear not
Nature clamour aloud for the one thing only: that, all pain
Parted and passed from the body, the mind too bask in a blissful
Dream, all fear of the future and all anxiety over!
Now as regards man's body, a few things only are needful,
(Few, tho' we sum up all), to remove all misery from him,
Aye, and to strew in his path such a lib'ral carpet of pleasures
That scarce Nature herself would at times ask happiness greater.
Statues of youth and of beauty may not gleam golden around him,
(Each in his right hand bearing a great lamp lustrously burning,
Whence to the midnight revel a light may be furnishëd always),
Silver may not shine softly, nor gold blaze bright, in his mansion,
Nor to the noise of the tabret his halls gold-cornicëd echo:--
Yet still he, with his fellow, reposed on the velvety greensward,
Near to a rippling stream, by a tall tree canopied over,
Shall, though they lack great riches, enjoy all bodily pleasure:
Chiefliest then when above them a fair sky smiles,
and the young year
Flings with a bounteous hand over each green meadow
the wild-flowers:--
Not more quickly depart from his bosom fiery fevers,
Who beneath crimson hangings and pictures cunningly broidered
Tosses about, than from him who must lie in beggarly raiment.
Therefore, since to the body avail not riches, avails not
Heraldry's utmost boast, nor the pomp and pride of an empire;
Next shall you own that the mind needs likewise
nothing of these things;
Unless--when, peradventure, your armies over the champaign
Spread with a stir and a ferment and bid War's image awaken,
Or when with stir and with ferment a fleet sails forth upon ocean--
Cowed before these brave sights, pale Superstition abandon
Straightway your mind as you gaze, Death seem no longer alarming,
Trouble vacate your bosom and Peace hold holiday in you.
But if (again) all this be a vain impossible fiction,
If of a truth men's fears and the cares which hourly beset them
Heed not the javelin's fury, regard not clashing of broad-swords,
But all boldly amongst crowned heads and the rulers of empires
Stalk, not shrinking abashed from the dazzling glare
of the red gold,
Not from the pomp of the monarch who walks forth purple-apparelled:
These things shew that at times we are bankrupt, surely, of reason:
Think too that all man's life through a great Dark laboureth onward.
For as a young boy trembles and in that mystery, Darkness,
Sees all terrible things: so do we too, ev'n in the daylight,
Ofttimes shudder at that which is not more really alarming
Than boys' fears when they waken and say some danger is o'er them.
So this panic of mind, these clouds which gather around us,
Fly not the bright sunbeam, nor the ivory shafts of the daylight:
Nature, rightly revealed, and the Reason only, dispel them.
C. S. CALVERLEY
_69_
OUT of the night, out of the blinding night
Thy beacon flashes;--hail, beloved light
Of Greece and Grecian; hail, for in the mirk
Thou dost reveal each valley and each height.
Thou art my leader and the footprints thine,
Wherein I plant my own. Thro' storm and shine
Thy love upholds me. Ne'er was rivalry
'Twixt owl and thrush, 'twixt steeds and shambling kine.
The world was thine to read, and having read,
Before thy children's eyes thou didst outspread
The fruitful page of knowledge, all the wealth
Of wisdom, all her plenty for their bread.
As honey-bees thro' flowery glades in June
Rifle the blossoms, so at our high-noon
Of life we gather in melodious glades
The golden honey of thy deathless rune.
And whoso roams benighted, on his ear,
Out of the darkness strikes an echo clear
Of thy triumphant challenge:--'Ye who quail,
Come unto me, for I have cast out fear. '
Thereat the walls o' the world fade far away
And thou, great Nature's seër, dost display
The miracle of her workings in the void:--
The night is past and reason dawns with day.
Heaven lies about us and we see the hall,
Where never storm-fiend raves nor snow-flakes fall
In webs of winter whiteness to ensnare
The golden summer. Peace is over all;
A canopy of cloudless sky, a glow
Of laughing sunshine; all the flowers that blow
Are there, and there from Nature's teeming breast
Rivers of strength and sweetness ever flow.
The veil of Acheron is rent in twain;
His phantom precincts vanish. Ne'er again
Can Earth conceal the secret:--it is ours;
And all that once was hidden is made plain.
Hail, mighty Master, hail! The world was thine,
For thou hadst read her riddle line by line,
Scroll upon scroll; and now . . . oh, ecstasy
Of awe and rapture,. . . thou hast made her mine.
D. A. SLATER.
_70_
I give a part of this piece in the version of Dryden, beginning from
_Cerberus et furiae_. 'I am not dissatisfied', says Dryden, 'upon the
review of anything I have done in this author. '
AS for the Dog, the Furies and their Snakes,
The gloomy Caverns and the burning Lakes,
And all the vain infernal trumpery,
They neither are, nor were, nor e'er can be.
But here on earth the guilty have in view
The mighty pains to mighty mischiefs due,
Racks, prisons, poisons, the Tarpeian Rock,
Stripes, hangmen, pitch and suffocating smoke,
And, last and most, if these were cast behind,
The avenging horror of a conscious mind,
Whose deadly fear anticipates the blow,
And sees no end of punishment and woe,
But looks for more at the last gasp of breath.
This makes a hell on earth, and life a death.
Meantime, when thoughts of death disturb thy head,
Consider: Ancus great and good is dead;
Ancus, thy better far, was born to die,
And thou, dost _thou_ bewail mortality?
So many monarchs, with their mighty state
Who ruled the world, were over-ruled by Fate.
That haughty King who lorded o'er the main,
And whose stupendous bridge did the wild waves restrain--
In vain they foamed, in vain they threatened wrack,
While his proud legions marched upon their back,--
Him Death, a greater monarch, overcame,
Nor spared his guards the more for their Immortal name.
The Roman chief, the Carthaginian's dread,
Scipio, the Thunder Bolt of War, is dead,
And like a common slave by Fate in triumph led.
The founders of invented arts are lost,
And wits who made eternity their boast.
Where now is Homer, who possessed the throne?
The immortal work remains, the mortal author's gone.
DRYDEN.
_74_
DIANA guardeth our estate,
Girls and boys immaculate;
Boys and maidens pure of stain,
Be Diana our refrain.
O Latonia, pledge of love
Glorious to most glorious Jove,
Near the Delian olive-tree
Latona gave thy life to thee,
That thou should'st be for ever queen
Of mountains and of forests green;
Of every deep glen's mystery;
Of all streams and their melody.
Women in travail ask their peace
From thee, our Lady of Release:
Thou art the Watcher of the Ways:
Thou art the Moon with borrowed rays:
And, as thy full or waning tide
Marks how the monthly seasons glide,
Thou, Goddess, sendest wealth of store
To bless the farmer's thrifty floor.
Whatever name delights thine ear,
By that name be thou hallowed here;
And, as of old, be good to us,
The lineage of Romulus.
R. C. JEBB.
_82_
GEM of all isthmuses and isles that lie,
Fresh or salt water's children, in clear lake
Or ampler ocean: with what joy do I
Approach thee, Sirmio! Oh! am I awake,
Or dream that once again my eye beholds
Thee, and has looked its last on Thynian wolds?
Sweetest of sweets to me that pastime seems,
When the mind drops her burden: when--the pain
Of travel past--our own cot we regain,
And nestle on the pillow of our dreams!
'Tis this one thought that cheers us as we roam.
Hail, O fair Sirmio! Joy, thy lord is here!
Joy too, ye waters of the Garda Mere!
And ring out, all ye laughter-peals of home.
C. S. CALVERLEY.
_83_
This beautiful and delicate piece remains the despair of the translator.
I quote a few lines of Cowley's sometimes rather clumsy version
(beginning from _Sic, inquit, mea uita_):
'MY little life, my all,' said she,
'So may we ever servants be
To this best god, and ne'er retain
Our hated liberty again:
So may thy passion last for me
As I a passion have for thee
Greater and fiercer much than can
Be conceived by thee a man.
Into my marrow is it gone,
Fixt and settled in the bone,
It reigns not only in my heart
But runs like fire through every part. '
She spoke: the god of Love aloud
Sneezed again, and all the crowd
Of little Loves that waited by
Bowed and blest the augury.
COWLEY.
_85 b_
So many critics have compared Catullus to Burns that some of them may be
glad to see this North-Italian rendered into the English of the North.
WEEP, weep, ye Loves and Cupids all,
And ilka Man o' decent feelin':
My lassie's lost her wee, wee bird,
And that's a loss, ye'll ken, past healin'.
The lassie lo'ed him like her een:
The darling wee thing lo'ed the ither,
And knew and nestled to her breast,
As ony bairnie to her mither.
Her bosom was his dear, dear haunt--
So dear, he cared na lang to leave it;
He'd nae but gang his ain sma' jaunt,
And flutter piping back bereavit.
The wee thing's gane the shadowy road
That's never travelled back by ony:
Out on ye, Shades! ye're greedy aye
To grab at aught that's brave and bonny.
Puir, foolish, fondling, bonnie bird,
Ye little ken what wark ye're leavin':
Ye've gar'd my lassie's een grow red,
Those bonnie een grow red wi' grievin'.
G. S. DAVIES.
I append the version of Prof. R. Ellis, which preserves the metre of the
original:
WEEP each heavenly Venus, all the Cupids,
Weep all men that have any grace about ye.
Dead the sparrow, in whom my love delighted,
The dear sparrow, in whom my love delighted.
Yea, most precious, above her eyes, she held him,
Sweet, all honey: a bird that ever hail'd her
Lady mistress, as hails the maid a mother;
Nor would move from her arms away: but only
Hopping round her, about her, hence or hither,
Piped his colloquy, piped to none beside her.
Now he wendeth along the mirky pathway,
Whence, they tell us, is hopeless all returning.
Evil on ye, the shades of evil Orcus,
Shades all beauteous happy things devouring,
Such a beauteous happy bird ye took him.
Ah! for pity; but ah! for him the sparrow,
Our poor sparrow, on whom to think my lady's
Eyes do angrily redden all a-weeping.
R. ELLIS.
_86 a_
Langhorne is best known by his translation of Plutarch's _Lives_. But he
was a copious poet; and Catullus has never perhaps been more gracefully
rendered than in the following piece:
LESBIA, live to love and pleasure,
Careless what the grave may say:
When each moment is a treasure
Why should lovers lose a day?
Setting suns shall rise in glory,
But when little life is o'er,
There's an end of all the story--
We shall sleep, and wake no more.
Give me, then, a thousand kisses,
Twice ten thousand more bestow,
Till the sum of boundless blisses
Neither we nor envy know.
J. LANGHORNE.
I append the beginning of Blacklock's version:
THOUGH sour-loquacious Age reprove,
Let _us_, my Lesbia, live for love.
For when the short-lived suns decline
They but retire more bright to shine:
But we, when fleeting life is o'er
And light and love can bless no more,
Are ravished from each dear delight
To sleep one long eternal night.
T. BLACKLOCK.
_86 b_
KISS me, sweet: the wary lover
Can your favours keep, and cover,
When the common courting jay
All your bounties will betray.
Kiss again! no creature comes;
Kiss, and score up wealthy sums
On my lips, thus hardly sundered,
While you breathe. First give a hundred,
Then a thousand, then another
Hundred, then unto the tother
Add a thousand and so more,
Till you equal with the store
All the grass that Rumney yields,
Or the sands in Chelsea fields,
Or the drops in silver Thames,
Or the stars that gild his streams
In the silent summer nights
When Youth plies its stolen delights:
That the curious may not know
How to tell 'em as they flow,
And the envious, when they find
What their number is, be pined.
BEN JONSON.
_92_
CATULLUS, let the wanton go:
No longer play the fool, but deem
For ever lost what thou must know
Is fled for ever like a dream!
O life was once a heaven to thee!
To haunt her steps was rapture then--
That woman loved as loved shall be
No woman ever on earth again.
Then didst thou freely taste the bliss,
On which empassioned lovers feed:
When she repaid thee kiss for kiss,
O, life was then a heaven indeed!
'Tis past: forget as she forgets:
Lament no more, but let her go:
Tear from thy heart its mad regrets,
And into very marble grow!
Girl, fare thee well. Catullus ne'er
Will sue where love is met with scorn:
But, false one, thou with none to care
For thee, shalt pine through days forlorn.
Think, think, how drear thy life will be!
Who'll woo thee now? who praise thy charms?
Who now will be all in all to thee
And live but in thy loving arms?
Ay, who will give thee kiss for kiss,
Whose lip wilt thou in rapture bite?
But thou, Catullus, think of this
And spurn her in thine own despite.
THEODORE MARTIN.
_97_
Of this, one of the most famous and effective of Catullus's poems, I
offer two versions. The first (an adaptation) is by 'knowing Walsh', the
friend of Pope, pronounced by Dryden to be 'the first critic in the
nation': the second is by Prof. Slater of Cardiff:
IS there a pious pleasure that proceeds
From contemplation of our virtuous deeds?
That all mean sordid action we despise,
And scorn to gain a throne by cheats and lies?
Thyrsis, thou hast sure blessings laid in store
From thy just dealing in this curst amour.
What honour can in words or deeds be shown
Which to the fair thou hast not said and done?
On her false heart they all are thrown away:
She only swears more easily to betray.
Ye powers that know the many vows she broke,
Free my just soul from this unequal yoke.
My love boils up, and like a raging flood
Runs through my veins and taints my vital blood.
I do not vainly beg she may grow chaste,
Or with an equal passion burn at last--
The one she cannot practise, though she would,
And I contemn the other, though she should--:
Nor ask I vengeance on the perjured jilt;
'Tis punishment enough to have her guilt.
I beg but balsam for my bleeding breast,
Cure for my wounds and from my labours rest.
W. WALSH.
IF any joy awaits the man
Of generous hand and conscience clean,
Who ne'er has leagued with powers unseen
To wrong the partner of his plan;
Rich store of memories thou hast won
From this thy seeming-fruitless love,
Who all that man may do to prove
His faith by word or deed hast done,
And all in vain. Her thankless heart
Is hardened. Harden then thine own.
Writhe not but part, as stone from stone,
And willy-nilly heal the smart.
'Tis hard, ay, hard to fling aside
A love long cherished. Yet you must.
Be strong, prevail, and from the dust
A conqueror rise, whate'er betide.
Ye gods, who of your mercy give
Force to the fainting, let my life
Of honour win me rest from strife,
And from my blood the canker drive;
Ere yet from limb to limb it steal,
And in black darkness plunge my soul,
Oh, drive it hence and make me whole;
A caitiff wounds, a god may heal.
