Summon’d the singer blithe, and harper gay,

And aided wine with dulcet-streaming sound. The better use of notes, or sweet or shrill,

By quiv’ring string or modulated wind; Trumpet or lyre—to their harsh bosoms chill

Admission ne'er had sought, or could not find. Oh! send them to the sullen mansions dun,

Her baleful eyes where sorrow rolls around; Where gloom-enamour'd mischief loves to dwell, And murder, all blood-bolter'd, schemes the

wound. When cates luxuriant pile the spacious dish,

And purple nectar glads the festive hour; The guest, without a want, without a wish,

Can yield no room to musick's soothing pow'r.

TRANSLATION

FROM THE MEDEA OF EURIPIDES, v. 1969.

THE rites deriv’d from ancient days,
With thoughtless reverence we praise;
The rites that taught us to combine
The joys of musick and of wine,
And bade the feast, and song, and bowl
O’erfill the saturated soul:
But ne'er the flute or lyre applied
To cheer despair, or soften pride;

• The classical reader will, doubtless, be pleased to see the exquisite original in immediate comparison with this translation; we, therefore, subjoin it, and also Dr. J. Warton's imitation of the same passage.

Nor call’d them to the gloomy cells;
Where want repines and vengeance swells;
Where hate sits musing to betray,
And murder meditates his prey.
To dens of guilt and shades of care,
Ye sons of melody repair,
Nor deign the festive dome to cloy
With superfluities of joy.
Ah! little needs the minstrel's power
To speed the light convivial hour.

σχαιούς δε λέγων, κουδέν τι σοφούς
τους πρόσθε βρoτους, ουκ άν αμάρτοις,
ούτινες όμνους επί μέν θαλίαις,
επί δ' είλαπίναις, και παρά δείπνοις
εύροντο, βίον τερπνάς ακοάς:
στιγίους δε βροτών ουδείς λύπας
εδρετο μούση και πολυχώρδους
ωδαίς παύειν, εξών θάνατοι,
δειναι τε τύχαι σφάλλουσι δόμους.
καίτοι τάδε μεν κέρδος ακείσθαι
μολπαισι βρoτoύς: ένα δεύδειπνοι
δαϊτες, τί μάτην τείνουσι βοάν;
το παρόν γαρ εει τέρψιν αφ' αυτού
δαιπός πλήρωμα βροτοίσιν.

MEDEA, 193-906. ED. Pons.

Queen of every moving measure,
Sweetest source of purest pleasure,
Music! why thy pow'rs employ
Only for the sons of joy;
Only for the smiling guests,
At natal or at nuptial feasts?
Rather thy lenient numbers pour
On those, whom secret griefs devour.
Bid be still the throbbing hearts
Of those whom death or absence parts,

And, with some softly whisper'd air,
Sooth the brow of dumb despair.
The board, with varied plenty crown'd,
May spare the luxuries of sound I.

TRANSLATION
OF THE FIRST TWO STANZAS OF THE SONG “RIO VERDE,

RIO VERDE,” PRINTED IN BISHOP PERCY'S RELIQUES
OF ANCIENT ENGLISH POETRY

AN IMPROMPTU

GLASSY water, glassy water,

Down whose current, clear and strong, Chiefs confused in mutual slaughter,

Moor and christian roll along.

IMITATION OF THE STYLE OF

****

HERMIT hoar, in solemn cell

Wearing out live's ev’ning grey,
Strike thy bosom, sage, and tell

What is bliss, and which the way.
Thus I spoke, and speaking sigh’d,

Scarce repress'd the starting tear,
When the hoary sage reply’d,

Come, my lad, and drink some beer.

? This translation was written by Johnson for his friend Dr. Burney, and was inserted, as the work of "a learned friend,” in that gentleman's History of Musick, vol. ii. p. 340. It has always been ascribed to Johnson; but, to put the matter beyond a doubt, Mr. Malone ascertained the fact by applying to Dr. Burney himself. J. B.

BURLESQUE

OF THE FOLLOWING LINES OF LOPEZ DE VEGA

AN IMPROMPTU

SE a quien los leones vence

Vence una muger hermosa,
O el de flaco avergonze,

O ella di ser mas furiosa.

If the man who turnips cries,
Cry not when his father dies,
'Tis a proof, that he had rather
Have a turnip than his father.

TRANSLATION

OF THE FOLLOWING LINES AT THE END OF BARETTI'S

EASY PHRASEOLOGY

AN IMPROMPTU

Viva, viva la padrona!
Tutta bella, e tutta buona,
La padrona è un'angiolella
Tutta buona e tutta bella;
Tutta bella e tutta buona;
Viva! viva la padrona!
LONG may live my lovely Hetty!
Always young, and always pretty;
Always pretty, always young,
Live, my lovely Hetty, long!
Always young, and always pretty,

Long may live my lovely Hetty!

IMPROVISO TRANSLATION

OF THE FOLLOWING DISTICH ON THE DUKE OF MODENA'S

RUNNING AWAY FROM THE COMET IN 1742 OR 1743

SE al venir vostro i principi sen' vanno
Deh venga ogni di-durate un'anno.
IF at your coming princes disappear,
Comets! come every day-and stay a year.

IMPROVISO TRANSLATION

OF THE FOLLOWING LINES OF M. BENSERADE

A Son LIT

THEATRE des ris, et des pleurs,
Lit! où je nais, et où je meurs,
Tu nous fais voir comment voisins
Sont nos plaisirs, et nos chagrins.
In bed we laugh, in bed we cry,
And, born in bed, in bed we die;
The near approach a bed may show
Of human bliss to human woe.

EPITAPH FOR MR. HOGARTH

The hand of him here torpid lies,

That drew th' essential form of grace;
Here clos'd in death th' attentive eyes,

That saw the manners in the face.