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TRANSLATION FROM THE MEDEA OF
EURIPIDES. ['Ερωτες υπις μεν αγαν, κ. τ. λ.] When fierce conflicting passions urge
The breast where love is wont to glow, What mind can stem the stormy surge
Which rolls the tide of human woe? The hope of praise, the dread of shame,
Can rouse the tortured breast no more; The wild desire, the guilty flame,
Absorbs each wish it felt before.
But if affection gently thrills
The soul by purer dreams possest, The pleasing balm of mortal ills
In love can soothe the aching breast: If thus thou comest in disguise,
Fair Venus ! from thy native heaven, What heart unfeeling would despise
The sweetest boon the gods have given ?
But never from thy golden bow
May I beneath the shaft expire ! Whose creeping venom, sure and slow,
Awakes an all-consuming fire : Ye racking doubts ! ye jealous fears!
With others wage internal war; Repentance, source of future tears,
From me be ever distant far !
May no distracting thoughts destroy
The holy calm of sacred love!
Which hover faithful hearts above !
May I with some fond lover sigh, Whose heart may mingle pure with mine
With me to live, with me to die.
My native soil ! beloved before,
Now dearer as my peaceful home, Ne'er may I quit thy rocky shore,
A hapless banish'd wretch to roam ! This very day, this very hour,
May I resign this fleeting breath! Nor quit my silent humble bower;
A doom to me far worse than death.
Have I not heard the exile's sigh ?
And seen the exile's silent tear, Through distant climes condemn'd to fly,.
A pensive weary wanderer here? Ah ! hapless dame!! no sire bewails,
No friend thy wretched fate deplores, No kindred voice with rapture hails
Thy steps within a stranger's doors.
Perish the fiend whose iron heart,
To fair affection's truth unknown,
Unpitied, helpless, and alone; though a considerable liberty is taken with the original, by expanding the idea, as also iú some other parts of the trans. Lation.
If e'er myself, or sire, have sought to grace
But fiery Nisus stems the battle's tide,
Celestial pair ! if aught my verse can claim, Wafted on Time's broad pinion, yours is fame! Ages on ages shall your fate admire, No future day shall see your names expire, While stands the Capitol, immortal dome! And vanquish'd millions hail their empress, Rome!
| Medea, who accompanied Jason to Corinth, was deserted by him for the daughter of Creon, king of that city. The chorus from which this is taken here addresses Medca ;
W210 ne'er unlocks with silver key!
The milder treasures of his soul,May such a friend be far from me,
And ocean's storms between us roll !
THOUGIITS SUGGESTED BY A COLLEGE
Happy the youth in Euclid's axioms tried,
Such is tlie youth whose scientific pate Class-honours, medals, fellowships, await; Or even, perhaps, the declamation prize, If to such glorious height he lifts his eyes. But lo i no common orator can bope The envied silver cup within his scope. Not that our heads much eloquence require, Th' ATHENIAN'S' glowing style, or Tully's fire. A manner clear or warın is useless, since We do not try by speaking to convince. Be other orators of pleasing proud : We speak to please ourselves, not move the crowd : Our gravity prefers the muttering tone, A proper mixture of the squeak and groan:
No borrow'd grace of action must be seen
The man who hopes t'obtain the promiscd cup
The sons of science these, who, thus repaid, Linger in ease in Granta's sluggish shade ; Where on Cam's sedgy bank supine they lie Unknown, unhonour'd live, unwept for die : Dull as the pictures which adorn their halls, They think all learning fix'd within their walls : In manners rude, in foolish forms precise, All modern arts affecting to despise ; Yet prizing Bentley's, Brunck's, or Porson's 5 note, More than the verse on which the critic wrote: Vain as their honours, heavy as their ale, Sad as their wit, and tedious as their tale ; To friendship dead, though not untaught to feel When Self and Church demand a bigot zeal. With eager haste they court the lord of power, Whether 't is Pitt or Petty rules the hour ; 6 To him, with suppliant smiles, they bend the head, While distant mitres to their eyes are spread. But should a storm o'erwheim him with disgrace, They'd fly to seek the next who fill'd his place. Such are the men who learning's treasures guard ! Such is their practice, such is their reward ! This much, at least we may presume to say — The premium can't exceed the price they pay.
TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER. Sweet girl ! though only once we met, That meeting I shall ne'er forget; And though we ne'er may meet again, Remembrance will thy form retain. I would not say, “ I love," but still My senses struggle with my will :
! The original is “ Kabogde dretærri zinda prywv," literally, " disclosing the bright key of the mind."
No reflection is here intended against the person mentioned under tho name of Magtiis. He is merely represented as performing an unavoidable function of his office. Indeed, such an attempt could only recoil upon myselt'; as that gen. tleman is now as much distinguished by his eloquence, and the dignified propriety with which he fills his situation, as he was in his younger days for wit and conviviality.-(Dr. William Mansel was, in 1790. appointed to the headship of Trinity College, by Mr. Pitt. While a bachelor of arts, he distinguished himself as the author of several jeur d'esprit. Dr. Jowett, of Trinity Hall, having amused both himself and the public, by a pretty little fairy garden, with narrow gravel walks. besprinkled with shells and pellucid pebbles, and enclosed by a Chinese railing, Dr. Mansel wrote the following lines thereon :
* A little garden, little Jowett made,
And fenced it with a little palisade ;
This little garden won't a little show it."
* (In most colleges, the fellow who superintends the chapel service is called Dean.)
The present Greek professor of Trinity College, Cambridge ; a man whose powers of mind and writings may, perhaps, justity their preference. (In a letter written in 1813, Lord Byron says:-" I remember to have seen Porson at Cambridge, in the hall of our college, and in private parties; and I never can recollect him except as drunk or brutal, and generally both: I mean in an evening; for in the hall, he dined at the Dean's table, and I at the Vice. master's;- and he then and there appeared sober in his demeanour; but I have seen him, in a private party of under-graduates, take up a poker to them, and heard him use language as black guard as his action. Of all the disgust. ing brutes, sulky, abusive, and intolerable, Porson was the most bestial, as far as the few times I saw him went. He was tolerated in this state amongst the young men for his talents; as the Turks think a madman inspired, and bear with him. He used to recite, or rather vornit, pages of all languages, and could hiccup Greek like a Heloi : and certainly Sparta never shocked her children with a grosser exhibition than this man's intoxication."]
6 Since this was written, Lord Henry Petty has lost bis place, and subsequently (I had almost said consequently) the honour of representing the University. A fact so glaring requires no comment. (Lord Henry Petty is now (1330) Marquess of Lansdowne.)
THE CORNELIAN. ? No specious splendour of this stone
Endears it to my memory ever ; With lustre only once it shone,
And blushes modest as the river. S
Some, who can sneer at friendship's ties,
Have, for my weakness, oft reproved me; Yet still the simple gift I prize,
For I am sure the giver loved me.
He offer'd it with downcast look,
As fearful that I might refuse it; I told him when the gitt I took,
My only fcar should be to lose it.
This pledge attentively I view'd,
And sparkling as I held it near, Methought one drop the stone bedew'd,
And ever since I've loved a tear.
In vain, to drive thec from my breast,
Still, to adorn his humble youth,
Nor wealth nor birth their treasures yield; But hc who seeks the flowers of truth,
Must quit the garden for the field.
'Tis not the plant upreard in sloth,
Which beauty shows, and sheds perfume ; The flowers which yield the most of both
In Nature's wild luxuriance bloom.
Had Fortune aided Nature's care,
For once forgetting to be blind, His would have been an ample share,
If well proportion'd to his mind.
But had the goddess clearly seen,
His form bad fix'd her fickle breast; Her countless hoards would his have been,
And none remain'd to give thee rest.
AN OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE,
DELIVERED PREVIOUS TO THE PERFORMANCE OF THE
WHEEL OF FORTUNE" AT A PRIVATE THEATRE."
SINCE the refinement of this polish'd age Has swept immoral raillery from the stage ;
"[These verses were written at Harrow gate, in Aug. 1806.)
? (The cornelian of these verses was given to Lord Byron by the Cambridge chorister, Eddlestone, whose musical ta. lents first introduced him to the young poet's acquaintance, and for whom he appears to have entertained, subsequently, a sentiment of the most romantic friendship.]
3 [In a lctter to Miss Pigot, of Southwell, written in June, 1807, Lord Byron thus describes Eddlestone: -" He is exactly to an hour two years younger than myself, nearly my height, very thin, very fair complexion, dark eyes, and light locks. My opinion or his mind you already know ; I hope I shall never have occasion to change it." Eddlestone, on leaving his choir. entered into a mercantile house in the me. tropolis, and died of a consumption, in 1811. On hearing of his death, Lord Byron thus wrote to the mother of his fair correspondent:- "I am about to write to you on a silly subject, and yet I cannot well do otherwise. You may re. member a cornelian, which some years ago I consigned to Miss Pigot, indeed gave to her, and now I am about to make the most selfish and rude of requests. The person who gare it to me, when I was very young, is dead, and though a long
time has clapsed since we met, as it was the only memorial I possessed of that person in whom I was very much interested), it has acquired a value by this event I could bare wished it never to have borne in my eyes. If, therefore, Miss Pigot should have preserved it, I must, under these circum. stances, beg her to excuse my requesting it to be transmitted to me, and I will replace it by something she may remember me by equally well. As she was always so kind as to feel interested in the fate of him who formed the subject of our conversation, you may tell her that the giver of that corne. lian died in May last, of a consumption, at the age of twenty. one, - making the sixth, within four months, of friends and relations that I have lost between May and the end of Au. gust."— The cornelian heart was returned accordingly; and, indeed, Miss Pigot reminded Lord Byron, that he had lell it with her as a deposit, not a gitt. It is now in the possession of the Hon. Mrs. Leigh.)
* [" When I was a youth, I was reckoned a good actor. Besides llarrow speeches, in which I shone, I enacteil Proruddock, in the Wheel of Fortune,' and Tristram Tickle, in the farce of The Weathercock,' for three nights, in some private theatricals at Southwell, in 1806, with great
Since taste has now expunged licentious wit,
He sunk, an Atlas bending 'neath the weight
“ O lachrymarurn fons, tenero sacros
Pectore te, pia Nympha, sensit.” - Gray. When Friendship or Love our sympathies move,
When Truth in a glance should appear, The lips may beguile with a dimple or sniile,
But the test of affection 's a Tear.
Too oft is a smile but the hypocrite's wile,
To mask detestation or fear; Give me the soft sigh, whilst the soul-telling eye
Is dimm'd for a time with a Tear.
ON THE DEATH OF MR. FOX,
THE FOLLOWING ILLIBERAL IMPROMPTU APPEARED IX
A MORNING PAPER.
Mild Charity's glow, to us mortals below,
Shows the soul from barbarity clear ; Compassion will melt where this virtue is felt,
And its dew is diffused in a Tear.
“ Our nation's foes lament on Fox's death,
TO WHICH TUE AUTHOR OF THESE PIECES SENT THE
Ou factious viper ! whose envenom'd tooth
The man doom'd to sail with the blast of the gale,
Through billows Atlantic to steer,
The green sparkles bright with a Tear.
In Glory's romantic career;,
And bathes every wound with a Tear.
Renouncing the gore-crimson'd spear, All his toils are repaid when, embracing the maid,
From her eyelid he kisses the Tear. Sweet scene of my youth 3! seat of Friendship and
Where love chased each fast-fleeting year, [Truth, Loth to leave thee, I mourn'd, for a last look I turn'd,
But thy spire was scarce seen through a Tear.
applause. The occasional prologus for our volunteer play was also of my composition. The other performers were young ladies and gentlemen of the neighbourhood; and the whole went off with great effect upon our good-natured audience." – Byron Diary, 1821.)
! (This prologue was written by the young poet, between stages, on his way from Ilarrowgate. On getting into the carriage at Chesterfield, he said to his companion, “ Now, Pigot, I'll spin a prologue for our play;" and before they
reached Mansfield he had completed his task, - interrupting, only once, his rhyming reverie, to ask the proper pronunciation of the French word “début," and, on being answered, exclaiming, " Ay, that will do for rhyme to 'new'.'" The epilogue, which was from the pen of the Rev. Mr. Becher, was delivered by Lord Byron.)
? (The illiberal improptu" appeared in the Morning Post, and Lord Byron's reply" in the Morning Chronicle.)
Though my vows I can pour to my Mary no more,
TO THE SIGHING STREPHON.
Your pardon, my friend, if my rhymes did offend, She rewarded those vows with a Tear.
Your pardon, a thousand times o'er :
From friendship I strove your pangs to remove, By another possest, may she live ever blest !
But I swear I will do so no more.
Since your beautiful maid your flame has repaid, And forgive her deceit with a Tear.
No more I your folly regret ; Ye friends of my licart, ere from you I depart,
She's now most divine, and I bow at the shrine This hope to my breast is most near :
Of this quickly reformed coquette.
Yet still, I must own, I should never have known
From your verses, what else she deserved ;
As your fair was so devilish reserved.
Since the balm-breathing kiss of this magical miss
(met," May no marble bestow the splendour of woe,
Since the “ world you forget, when your lips once bave Which the children of vanity rcar ; No fiction of fame shall blazon my name ;
My counsel will get but abuse. All I ask - all I wish -- is a Tear.
You say, when “ I rove, I know nothing of love;" October 26th, 1806.
'T is true, I am given to range :
Yet there's pleasure, at least, in a change.
I will not advance, by the rules of romance,
To humour a whimsical fair ;
Though a smile may delight, yet a frown won't affright,
Or drive me to dreadful despair.
While my blood is thus warm I ne'er shall reform,
To mix in the Platonists' school;
Of this I am sure, was my passion so pure,
Thy mistress would think me a fool.
And if I should shun every woman for one, For such are the airs of these fanciful fairs,
Whose image must fill my whole breastThey think all our homage a debt :
Whom I must prefer, and sigh but for her
What an insult 't would be to the rest !
Now, Strephon, good bye; I cannot deny
Your passion appears most absurd ; And seem her hauteur to regret;
Such love as you plead is pure love indeed,
For it only consists in the word. If again you shall sigh, she no more will deny
That yours is the rosy coquette.