« AnteriorContinuar »
it is dangerous to approach the contend among my equals, now agibanks of a river baited with so many tated with fear, and now crowned mischiefs. Ever then may it be my with victory! Let Philemon, then, lot to be crowned, Oh king Pto- enjoy in Ægypt the allurements held lemy, with the ivy of Attica !* May out to me; he has no Glycera, nor I meet death in my own country, perhaps is he worthy of such a ble and be buried in the land of my fa. sing. But do thou, I intreat thee, thers ! May I join in the annual my dear Glycera, as soon as the celebration of Bacchus before our Haloan feasts are finished, come flyaltars, and be initiated in the com- ing to me upon your mule. plete course of religious mysteries ! I never knew the festival so tea At our annual exhibitions may I pre- dious before, or so unseasonable. sent every now and then some new May'st thou at last, Oh Ceres, be play,t and laugh, and rejoice, and propitious !
* Crowned with the ivy of Attica.] Menander takes this method elegantly to insinuate his determination never to quit Attica, his native land.
+ It is remarkable that Menander bore away the prize only eight times, though he exhibited a hundred and five dramas. Philemon, a writer of inferior celebrity, but who found means to obtain influence among the judges, was frequently complimented with the honours which more properly belonged to Menander. Of this Menander was so conscious, that, meeting one day with Philemon, he said, “ dost thou not blush, oh, Philemon, when the judges decide the contest in thy favour ?»
PO E T R Y.
ODE for the New Year, 1791. By Henry James Pye, esq.
The magnet first to light was thrown,
And, smiling, claim'd it for her own, “ My bark,” she said, “ this gem shall guide “ Through paths of ocean yet untried, “ While as my daring sons explore “ Each rude inhospitable shore, «« 'Mid desart sands and ruthless skies, “ New seats of industry shall rise, “ And culture wide extend its genial reign, “ Free as the ambient gale, and boundless as the main.”
The art improving Science taught,
With horror and destruction fraught;
Pale Av'rice, and her harpy brood,
Nor such her later chiefs, who try,
The burning zone, the polar frost,
Anticipates the lapse of age,
O'er Time's yet undiscover'd page,
The harvest wave, the vintage bleed ;
v. But lo! across the blackening skies
What swarthy dæmon wings his flight?
The splendid vision sets in night.-
Suspending o'er a prostrate foe,
ODE ODE for his MAJESTY's Birth Day, June 4, 1791. By Henry
James Pye, esq. Poet Laureat.
OUD the whirlwind rag'd around
That shook affrighted Britain's shore,
That mingled with the wint’ry roar ;
With transient gleam illum'd the air,
The livid flashes glare.
Now northward rolls his burning car,
of elemental war.
Young Zephyr leads the vernal hours,
From June's ambrosial flowers.
Ode on CAMBRIA, a Mountain in Cornwall,
by Peter Pindar, esq.
I roam at midnight's spectred hour,
And climb the wild majestic height:
Pale on a rock's aspiring steep,
Behold a Druid sits forlorn,
I hear his harp of sorrow mourn.
And ponder 'mid thy drear retreat;
Where Wisdom held her hallow'd seat; Here let me roam, in spite of Folly's smile, A pensive pilgrim, o'er each pitied pile. Poor ghost ! no more the Druid race
Shall here their sacred fires relume:
No more their tapers gild the gloom.
The treasures of the grove shall fall;
Whose power at length shall crush the ball. Led by the wrinkled Pow'r, with gladden'd mien, Gigantic Ruin treads the weeping scene.
No more the bards, in strains sublime,
The actions of the brave proclaim, Thus rescuing from the rage of Time
Each glorious deed approv'd by Fame. Deep in the dust each lyre is laid unstrung, While mute for ever stops each tuneful tongue.