TRANSLATIONS.

SONG OF HYBRIAS THE CRETAN

My wealth's a burly spear and brand,
And a right good shield of hides untann'd,
Which on my arm I buckle :

With these I plough, I reap, I Sow,

With these I make the sweet vintage flow,
And all around me truckle.

But your wights that take no pride to wield
A massy spear and well-made shield,
Nor joy to draw the sword:

Oh, I bring those heartless, hapless drones,
Down in a trice on their marrow-bones,
To̟ call me King and Lord.

FRAGMENT.

FROM THE GREEK OF ALCMAN.

THE mountain summits sleep: glens, cliffs, and caves
Are silent-all the black earth's reptile brood-
The bees-the wild beasts of the mountain wood:
In depths beneath the dark red ocean's waves

Its monsters rest, whilst wrapt in bower and spray
Each bird is hush'd that stretch'd its pinions to the day

MARTIAL ELEGY.

FROM THE GREEK OF TYRTEUS.

How glorious fall the valiant, sword in hand,
In front of battle for their native land!

But oh! what ills await the wretch that yields,
A recreant outcast from his country's fields !
The mother whom he loves shall quit her home,
An aged father at his side shall roam;
His little ones shall weeping with him go,
And a young wife participate.his wo;
While scorn'd and scowl'd upon by every face,
They pine for food, and beg from place to place.

Stain of his breed! dishonoring manhood's form,
All ills shall cleave to him:-Affliction's storm
Shall bind him wandering in the vale of years,
Till, lost to all but ignominious fears,

He shall not blush to leave a recreant's name,
And children, like himself, inured to shame.

But we will combat for our fathers' land,
And we will drain the life-blood where we stand,
To save our children :-fight ye side by side,
And serried close, ye men of youthful pride,
Disdaining fear, and deeming light the cost
Of life itself in glorious battle lost.

Leave not our sires to stem th' unequal fight, Whose limbs are nerved no more with buoyant might Nor, lagging backward, let the younger breast Permit the man of age, (a sight unbless'd,)

To welter in the combat's foremost thrust,

His hoary head dishevell❜d in the dust,
And venerable bosom bleeding bare.

But youth's fair form, though fallen, is ever fair And beautiful in death the boy appears, The hero boy that dies in blooming years: In'man's regret he lives, and woman's tears, More sacred than in life, and lovelier far, For having perish'd in the front of war.

SPECIMENS OF TRANSLATION FROM

MEDEA.

Σκαιους δε λεγων, κουδέν τι σοφους
Τους προσθε βροτους ουκ αν αμαρτοις.

Medea, v. 194, p. 33, Glasg edit

TELL me, ye bards, whose skill sublime
First charm'd the ear of youthful Time,
With numbers wrapt in heavenly fire,
Who bade delighted Echo swell
The trembling transports of the lyre,
The murmur of the shell-
Why to the burst of Joy alone
Accords sweet Music's soothing tone?
Why can no bard, with magic strain,
In slumbers steep the heart of pain?
While varied tones obey your sweep,
The mild, the plaintive, and the deep,
Bends not despairing Grief to hear
Your golden lute, with ravish'd ear?
Has all your art no power to bind
The fiercer pangs that shake the mind,
And lull the wrath at whose command
Murder bares her gory hand?

When flush'd with joy, the rosy throug
Weave the light dance, ye swell the song!
Cease, ye vain warblers! cease to charm.
The breast with other raptures warm!
Cease! till your hand with magic strain
In slumbers steep the heart of pain!

SPEECH OF THE CHORUS,

IN THE SAME TRAGEDY,

TO DISSUADE MEDEA FROM HER PURPOSE OF PUTTING HER CHIL
DREN TO DEATH, AND FLYING FOR PROTECTION TO ATHENS.

O HAGGARD queen! to Athens dost thou guide
Thy glowing chariot, steep'd in kindred gore;
Or seek to hide thy foul infanticide

Where Peace and Mercy dwell for evermore?

The land where Truth, pure, precious, and sublime,
Woos the deep silence of sequester'd bowers,
And warriors, matchless since the first of time,
Rear their bright banners o'er unconquer'd towers!

Where joyous youth, to Music's mellow strain,
Twines in the dance with nymphs forever fair,
While Spring eternal on the lilied plain,

Waves amber radiance through the fields of air!

The tuneful Nine (so sacred legends tell)

First waked their heavenly lyre these scenes among Still in your greenwood bowers they love to dwell; Still in your vales they swell the choral song!

But there the tuneful, chaste, Pierian fair,

The guardian nymphs of green Parnassus, now Sprung from Harmonia, while her graceful hair Waved in high auburn o'er her polish'd brow!

ANTISTROPHE I.

Where silent vales, and glades of green array,
The murmuring wreaths of cool Cephisus lave,
There, as the muse hath sung, at noon of day,

The queen of Beauty bow'd to taste the wave;

And blest the stream, and breathed across the land The soft, sweet gale that fans yon summer bowers; And there the sister Loves, a smiling band,

Crown'd with the fragrant wreaths of rosy flowers!

"And go," she cries, "in yonder valleys rove,
With Beauty's torch the solemn scenes illume;
Wake in each eye the radiant light of Love,
Breathe on each cheek young Passion's tender bloom

Entwine, with myrtle chains, your soft control,
To sway the hearts of Freedom's darling kind!
With glowing charms enrapture Wisdom's soul,
And mould to grace ethereal Virtue's mind"

STROPHE II.

The land where Heaven's own hallow'd waters play, Where friendship binds the generous and the good, Say, shall it hail thee from thy frantic way,

Unholy woman! with thy hands embrued

In thine own children's gore? Oh! ere they bleed, Let Nature's voice thy ruthless heart appal!

Pause at the bold, irrevocable deed

The mother strikes-the guiltless babes shall fall!

Think what remorse thy maddening thoughts shall sting.
When dying pangs their gentle bosoms tear!
Where shalt thou sink, when lingering echoes ring
The screams of horror in thy tortured ear?