And many a look of many a fair unknown
Met full unable to control my own.
But one I mark'd, (then peace forsook my breast,)
One-Oh how far superiour to the rest!
What lovely features! such the Cyprian queen
Herself might wish, and Juno wish her mien.
The very nymph was she, whom when I dar'd
His arrows, Love, had even then prepar'd!
Nor was himself remote, nor unsupply'd
With torch well-trimm'd and quiver at his side
Now to her lips he clung, her eyelids now,
Then settled on her cheeks, or on her brow,
And with a thousand wounds from ev'ry part
Pierc'd, and transpierced, my undefended heart,
A fever, new to me, of fierce desire,
Now seiz'd my soul, and I was all on fire,
But she, the while, whom only I adore,
Was gone, and vanish'd, to appear no more.
In silent sadness I pursue my way;
I pause, I turn, proceed, yet wish to stay,
And while I follow her in thought, bemoan
With tears, my soul's delight so quickly flown.
When Jove had hurl'd him to the Lemnian coast,
So Vulcan sorrow'd for Olympus lost :
And so Oeclides, sinking into night,
From the deep gulf look'd up to distant light.
Wretch that I am, what hopes for me remair
Who cannot cease to love, yet love ir vain ?
Oh could I once, once more behold the fair,
Speak to her, tell her of the pang, I bear,
Perhaps she is not adamant, would show
Perhaps some pity at my tale of wo.
Oh inasupicious flame-'tis mine to prove
A matchless instance of disastrous love.
Ah spare me, gentle pow'r !-If such thou be,
Let not thy deeds, and nature, disagree.
Spare me, and I will worship at no shrine
With vow and sacrifice, save only thine.
Now I revere thy fires, thy bow, thy darts:
Now own thee sov'reign of all human hearts.
Remove! no-grant me still this raging wo!
Sweet is the wretchedness that lovers know
But pierce hereafter (should I chance to see
One destin'd mine) at once both her and me.
Such were the trophies, that, in earlier days,
By vanity seduced, I toil'd to raise,
Studious, yet indolent, and urg'd by youth,
That worst of teachers! from the ways of truth;
Till learning taught me, in his shady bow'r,
To quit love's servile yoke, and spurn his pow'r.
Then, on a sudden, the fierce flame suppress'd,
A frost continual settled on my breast,
Whence Cupid fears his flames extinct to see,
And Venus dreads a Diomede in me.
PRAISE in old time the rage Prometheus won,
Who stole ethereal radiance from the sun;
But greater he, whose bold invention strove
To eniulate the fiery bolts of Jove.
[The poems on the subject of the Gunpowder Treason I have not translated, both because the matter of them is unpleasant, and because they are written with an asperity, which, however it might be warranted in Milton's days, would be extremely unseasonable now.]
TO LEONORA SINGING AT ROME.*
ANOTHER Leonora once inspir'd
Tasso, with fatal love to phrensy fir'd;
But how much happier liv'd he now, were he,
Pierc'd with whatever pangs for love of thee!
Since could he hear that heavenly voice of thine,
With Adriana's lute of sound divine,
Fiercer than Pentheus, though his eye might roll,
Or idiot apathy benumb his soul,
You still, with medicinal sounds, might checr
His senses wandering in a blind career;
And sweetly breathing through his wounded breast,
Charm, with soul-soothing song, his thoughts to rest
NAPLES, too credulous, ah! boast no more
The sweet-voic'd Siren buried on thy shore,
That, when Parthenope deceas'd, she gave
Her sacred dust to a Chalcidick grave,
For still she lives, but has exchang'd the hoarse
Pausilipo for Tiber's placid course,
Where, idol of all Rome, she now in chains
Of magick song, both gods and men detains.
* I have translated only two of the three poetical compl ments addressed to Leonora, as they appear to me far supe riour to what I have omitted.
THE COTTAGER AND IIIS LANDLORD
A PEASANT to his lord paid yearly court,
Presenting pippins, of so rich a sort,
That he, displeas'd to have a part alone,
Remov'd the tree, that all might be his own
The tree, too old to travel, though before
So fruitful, wither'd, and would yield no more.
The 'squire, perceiving all his labour void,
Curs'd his own pains, so foolishly employ'd,
And "Oh," he cried, "that I had liv'd content
With tribute, small indeed, but kindly meant !
My av'rice has expensive prov'd to me,
Has cost me both my pippins and my tree
CHRISTIANA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN,
CROMWELL'S PICTURE.
CHRISTIANA, maiden of heroick mien!
Star of the north of northern stars the queen!
Behold what wrinkles I have earn'd, and how
The iron casque still chafes my vet'ran brow,
While following fate's dark footsteps, I fulfil
The dictates of a hardy people's will.
But soften'd, in thy sight, my looks appear,
Not to all Queens or Kings alike severe
DEATH OF THE VICE-CHANCELLOR,
LEARN, ye nations of the earth,
The condition of your birth,
Now be taught your feeble state !
Know that all must yield to fate!
If the mournful rover, Death,
Say but once- "" resign your breath !"
Vainly of escape you dream,
You must pass the Stygian stream.
Could the stoutest overcome
Death's assault, and baffle doorn,
Hercules had both withstood
Undiseas'd by Nessus' blood.
No'er had Hector press'd the plain
By a trick of Pallas slain,
Nor the chief to Jove allied
By Achilles' phantom died.
Could enchantments life prolong;
Circe sav'd by magick song,
Still had liv'd; an equal skill
Had preserv'd Medea still.
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