And dropping down on either side STROPHE II. Wisdom and the melting Muse Together mingle a resistless charm; *The lord of battle drops his arm, And heav'nly souls their loftier fancies lose. he has omitted one beautiful phrase, βλεφαρων αδο κλαίσρον, which the attentive West has but poorly translated, if I remember right; While gentle sleep his closing eyelid seals; besides the entire omission of that majestic description of the posture of the royal bird while dropping to slumber, ο δε κνωσσών υγρον νωτον αιωρεί, &c. yet I cannot but think, that Pindar is not a little indebted to his imitator for the translation of his κελαινω πιν δ' επι οι νεφελαν δε which our Bard has thus rendered; Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie The terror of his beak and lightnings of his eye, * Kai yap Bia σας Αρης, τραχειαν ανεοθε λιπων εγχεων ακμαν, ιαίνει καρδίαν κωματι Gray has numbered this also among the powers of harmony; On Thracia's hills the lord of War Has curb'd the fury of his car, And dropp'd his thirsty lance at thy command. * But they, from whom immortal Jove Hear Discord shriek in ev'ry sound. Such het, the Gods' relentless foe, Fills the Tartarean gulph with howls of madd'ning woe. ANTISTROPHE II. Fierce with hundred-handed strength, And raging with a hundred mouths of pain, Dashes with chains of fire his mighty length. A refuge for existence gave. Now Cuma, wild with circling Ocean's roar, And hot Sicilia's angry shore, And Etna's column, lord of air, Weigh on his shaggy breast pond'rous and huge despair. STROPHE III. Where the beams of day expire, From darkling caves big with horrendous shade, The blazing sulph'rous sheets unfold; wicked minds. *Horace seems to ascribe to music a very different effect on Vide Od. II. Lib. 3. + Typhæus. And oft the volvent flames sublimely bright, Deep in the wave with wildest crash Torn from th' ardurous rock the fearful splinters dash. ANTISTROPHE III. Lifting short his painful head The huge Vulcanian Monster hurls on high When bleeding on the flint's sharp rugged bed, An echo to the sulph'rous floods, He clothes the purple rock with clotted gore. Th' Etnean Genius lifts his awful eyc, And shakes the rocky steep, and thunders thro' the sky. EPIGRAM. WHEN the Devil engaged with Job's patience in battle, But Heaven, at length, Job's forbearance rewards; S. W. I. VOL. VI. RETROSPECTION, Movemur, nescio quo pacto, ipsis locis, quibus, quorum admi ramur, adsunt vestigia. CICERO. STROPHE L. O! that to yonder sphere of light, fo where with blood-shot eye, and tusked mouth, ANTISTROPHE I. Yet whither, whither shall I turn Yonder, where Lybian deserts burn, Or where, of kingly floods supreme, Or where in reason's spite, in pomp The light'nings of his spear o'er the wide-wond'ring world? EPODE I. But where that mighty dome, With shadowy frown o'er Tiber's darkling flood? Is this then all thy boasted grandeur, Rome? Thy silken sons, a dastard train, In Pleasure's lap supinely lie Hereafter they shall wake to weep: E'en now, e'en now from yonder Northern shores The hordes of Carnage rush, and hungry Vengeance roars! |