And of Arviragus, and how of old
Our hardy fires the Armorican controll'd;
And of the wife of Gorloïs, who, furprised
By Uther, in her husband's form disguised,
(Such was the force of Merlin's art) became
Pregnant with Arthur of heroic fame.
These themes I now revolve-and oh-if Fate
Proportion to these themes my lengthen'd date,
Adieu my shepherd's reed-yon pine-tree bough
Shall be thy future home, there dangle thou
Forgotten and disused, unless ere long
Thou change thy Latian for a British song:
A British ?-even fo-the powers
of man
Are bounded; little is the most he can ;
And it shall well fuffice me, and shall be
Fame and proud recompenfe enough for me,
If Ufa, golden-hair'd, my verse may learn,
If Alain bending o'er his crystal urn,
Swift-whirling Abra, Trent's o'ershadow'd stream,
Thames, lovelier far than all in my esteem,
Tamar's ore-tinctured flood, and, after these,
The wave-worn fhores of utmost Orcades.
"Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare!
My thoughts are all now due to other care.
All this I kept in leaves of laurel-rind
Enfolded fafe, and for thy view defign'd,
This, and a gift from Manfo's hand befide,
(Manso, not least his native city's pride)
Two cups that radiant as their giver fhone,
Adorn'd by sculpture with a double zone.
The spring was graven there; here flowly wind
The Red Sea fhores with groves of fpices lined;
Her plumes of various hues amid the boughs
The facred, folitary Phoenix fhows,
And, watchful of the dawn, reverts her head
To fee Aurora leave her watery bed.
-In other part, the expansive vault above,
And there too, even there, the god of love;
With quiver arm'd he mounts, his torch difplays
A vivid light, his gem-tipt arrows blaze,
Around his bright and fiery eyes
Nor aims at vulgar minds or little fouls,
Nor deigns one look below, but, aiming high,
Sends every arrow to the lofty sky;
Hence forms divine, and minds immortal, learn
The power of Cupid, and enamour'd burn.
"Thou alfo, Damon, (neither need I fear
That hope delufive) thou art also there;
For whither should fimplicity like thine
Retire, where else such spotless virtue shine?
Thou dwell'ft not (thought profane) in shades below,
Nor tears fuit thee; cease then, my tears, to flow.
Away with grief, on Damon ill bestow'd!
Who, pure himself, has found a pure abode,
Has pafs'd the fhowery arch, henceforth refides
With faints and heroes, and from flowing tides
Quaffs copious immortality and joy
With hallow'd lips!-Oh! bleft without alloy,
And now enrich'd with all that faith can claim,
Look down, entreated by whatever name,
If Damon please thee most (that rural found
Shall oft with echoes fill the groves around)
Or if Deodatus, by which alone
In those ethereal manfions thou art known.
Thy blush was maiden, and thy youth the taste
Of wedded blifs knew never, pure and chaste,
The honours, therefore, by divine decree
The lot of virgin worth, are given to thee:
Thy brows encircled with a radiant band,
And the green palm-branch waving in thy hand,
Thou in immortal nuptials fhalt rejoice,
And join with feraphs thy according voice,
Where rapture reigns, and the ecstatic lyre
Guides the bleft orgies of the blazing quire."
ADDRESSED TO MR. JOHN ROUSE, Librarian of the University of Oxford,
On a loft Volume of my Poems, which he defired me to replace, that he might add them to my other
Works depofited in the Library.
This ode is rendered without rhyme, that it might more adequately represent the original, which, as Milton himself informs us, is of no certain measure. It may poffibly for this reason difappoint the reader, though it coft the writer more labour than the translation of any other piece in the whole collection.
Y twofold book! fingle in fhow,
But double in contents,
Neat, but not curiously adorn'd,
Which, in his early youth,
A poet gave, no lofty one in truth,
Although an earnest wooer of the Muse-
Say while in cool Aufonian fhades
Or British wilds he roam'd,
Striking by turns his native lyre,
By turns the Daunian lute,
And stepp'd almost in air—
Say, little book, what furtive hand
Thee from thy fellow-books convey'd,
What time, at the repeated suit
Of my most learned friend,
I fent thee forth, an honour'd traveller,
From our great city to the fource of Thames,
Cærulean fire!
Where rife the fountains, and the raptures ring,
Of the Aonian choir,
Durable as yonder fpheres,
And through the endless lapfe of years
Secure to be admired?
Now what god, or demigod,
For Britain's ancient genius moved,
(If our afflicted land
Have expiated at length the guilty sloth
Of her degenerate fons)
Shall terminate our impious feuds,
And difcipline with hallow'd voice recall?
Recall the Muses too,
Driven from their ancient feats
In Albion, and well nigh from Albion's fhore,
And with keen Phœbean shafts
Piercing the unfeemly birds,
Whofe talons menace us,
Shall drive the harpy race from Helicon afar?
But thou, my book, though thou hast stray'd,
Whether by treachery loft,
Or indolent neglect, thy bearer's fault,
From all thy kindred books,
To fome dark cell or cave forlorn,
Where thou endureft, perhaps,
The chafing of fome hard untutor'd hand,
Be comforted—
For lo! again the splendid hope appears
That thou mayft yet escape
The gulfs of Lethe, and on oary wings
Mount to the everlasting courts of Jove!
Since Roufe defires thee, and complains
That, though by promife his,
Thou yet appear'ft not in thy place
Among the literary noble stores
Given to his care,
But, abfent, leaveft his numbers incomplete,
He, therefore, guardian vigilant
Of that unperishing wealth,
Calls thee to the interior fhrine, his charge,
Where he intends a richer treasure far
Than Iön kept (Iön, Erectheus fon
Illuftrious, of the fair Creüfa born)
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