THE GOLDEN VERSES OF PYTHAGORAS.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK.
HOPE the reader will forgive the liberty I have taken in translating thefe Verfes fomewhat at large, without which it would have been almoft impoffible to have given any kind of turn in English poetry to fo dry a subject. The sense of the Author is, I hope, no where mistaken; and if there feems in fome places to be fome additions in the English verfes to the Greek text, they are only fuch as may be juftified from Hierocles's Commentary, and delivered by him as the larger and explained fenfe of the Author's fhort precept. I have in fome few places ventured to differ from the learned Mr. Dacier's French interpretation, as those that shall give themfelves the trouble of a ftrict comparifon will find. How far I am in the right, is left to the reader to determine.
IRST to the gods thy humble homage pay ;
F'The greatest this, and firft of laws, obry
Perform thy vows, obferve thy plighted troth,
And let religion bind thee to thy oath.
The heroes next demand thy just regard,
Renown'd on earth, and to the stars preferr'd,
To light and endless life, their virtue's fure reward.
Due rites perform and honours to the dead,
To every wife, to every pious fhade.
With lowly duty to thy parents bow,
And grace and favour to thy kindred fhow:
For what concerns the rest of human kind,
Choose out the man to virtue best inclin'd;
Him to thy arms receive, him to thy bofom bind.
Poffeft of fuch a friend, preserve him still ;
Nor thwart his counfels with thy ftubborn will
Pliant to all his admonitions prove,
And yield to all his offices of love :
Him from thy heart, fo true, fo juftly dear,
Let no rath word nor light offences tear.
Bear all thou canft, ftill with his failings strive,
And to the utmost still, and still forgive;
For ftrong neceffity alone explores
The fecret vigour of cur latent powers,
Rouzes and urges on the lazy heart,
Force, to itself unknown before, t'exert.
By ufe thy ftronger appetites affwage,
Thy gluttony, thy floth, thy luft, thy rage:
From each dishonest act of shame forbear;
Of others, and thyself, alike beware.
Let reverence of thyself thy thoughts control,
And guard the sacred temple of thy foul.
Let juftice o'er thy word and deed prefide,
And reafon ev'n thy meanest actions guide:
For know that death is man's appointed doom,
Know that the day of great account will come,
When thy paft life shall strictly be furvey'd,
Each word, each deed, be in the balance laid,
And all the good and all the ill most justly be repaid.
For wealth, the perishing, uncertain good,
Ebbing and flowing like the fickle flood,
That knows no fure, no fix'd abiding-place,
But wandering loves from hand to hand to pass;
Revolve the getter's joy and lofer's pain,
And think if it be worth thy while to gain.
Of all thofe forrows that attend mankind,
With patience bear the lot to thee affign'd;
Nor think it chance, nor murmur at the load;
For know what man calls Fortune is from God.
In what thou may'st, from wisdom seek relief,
And let her healing hand affwage thy grief;
Yet ftill whate'er the righteous doom ordains,
What cause foever multiplies thy pains,
Let not those pains as ills be understood;
For God delights not to afflict the good.
The reafoning art, to various ends apply'd,
Is oft a fure, but oft an erring guide.
Thy judgment therefore found and cool preserve,
Nor lightly from thy refolution fwerve;
The dazzling pomp of words does oft deceive,
And sweet perfuafion wins the easy to believe.
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