w MARTIAL EFFUSIONS OF ANCIENT TIMES ; ADDRESSED TO THE SPARTAN HOSTS, TO EXCITE THEM TO VALOUR AND DISCIPLINE, IN TIIEIK CONFLICTS WITH THE MESSENIANS: AND PRESCRIBED AS PERMANENT RECITATIONS, BY THE REPUBLIC OF LJCEDEMON, TO INSFIRE THEIR YOUTH WITH WARLIKE SENTIMENTS. FROM THE FRAGMENTS OF TYRT^US. LONDON: PRINTED FOR J. HATCHARD, (Bookseller to Her Majesty), NO. 190, OPPOSITE ALBANY HOUSE, PICCADILLY. 1804. Brettell, Printer, Marshall Street, Golden S<35< THE originals of the following Trans- lations and Imitations, are preserved in the Collections of Stobaeus, and the Oration of Lycurgus against Leocrates. The second of them is, by some critics, attributed to Cal- linus. The others are universally ascribed to TYRT-EUS. Tyrtjeus was, by binh, an Athenian. He was sent by his own State, in conse- quence of an oracular injunction, to assist the Spartans in retrieving the defeats and disasters, which they had experienced, in their wars with their rivals, the Messenians. Tyut.t.us VI Tyrtjeus was a Poet, as well as a Soldier. In liis adopted country, lie had occasion for the exercise of the talents appropriate to both characters. His efforts were crowned with success. By his military instructions he improved the discipline and tactics, and hy his Martial Effusions, he revived the drooping spirits of the Spartans. After many fierce conflicts, of critical and alternate issue, in some of which the Invaders and Invaded changed situations and perils, the contest terminated finally in favour of Sparta. The following Poems are not offered to the public asstricttranslations of the Martial Frag- ments of Tyrtjeus. It is the general spirit of the Poet, that is meant to be conveyed in them, together with the appropriate character of his Sentiments. The glow of " love to " our country — the glory of dying in its " defence — the praise and honours of va- lour VII " lour — the joys and rewards of Victory" — the degradation and misery of Cowardice and Defeat — These, and similar sentiments and views are the most prominent in the original ; and, in conveying them, the Translator has not confined himself to the exact arrangement in which they there stand, nor to the precise aspect in which they there appear, nor to the motives under which they are recommended and pressed. Views, also, analogous and parallel have been sometimes brought for- ward ; and some thoughts will be found introduced, which arc not touched, in the original, at all. They are, however, kindred thoughts; and bearing on the same elevated object at which the ancient Poet points. Of the licence now acknowledged, more will be found in some parts of the Poems, than in others. The greatest degree of it is in those numbered II. and IV. These the Trans- lator VIII slator has ventured entirely to new-cast. As they now appear, they have a sort of Lyrical air, and hear some resemblance to original Ballads, composed in our own style. If they may be thought such asTvRTJEUs might have written, the Translator will plead guilty to the charges of licence and interpolation, and patiently await their punishment. Several Translations of the Martial Frag- ments of Tyrtjeus have, at different periods, been presented to the English reader. None of them had come under the eye of the present Translator, when, a few months ago, in the discharge of his professional func- tions, he was led to compose those now offered to the public. Even, at present, the only one he has seen is the very elegant one of the Poet Laureat, published in 1796; and that he did not see till the present translation was in the press. Will he be believed, if he IX say, that, had he been previously acquainted with Mr. Pye's Translation, he would have hesitated about the publication of his own ? Mr. Polwhele's Translation, respectfully re- ferred to by Mr. Pye, and which lie has not yet seen, would probably have encreased this hesitation. The originals of these fragments, extracted from the collections of Stobreus, have been frequently edited, and, in some cases, with laboured Commentaries and Illustrations. In the year 1769, they were printed at the Glasgow press, by the Messrs. Foulis, under the inspection of the learned Doctor James Moor, then Greek Professor in that University, who prefaced his edition with an account of the Poet, and subjoined to it some critical notes. It was published with the following remarkably appropriate inscription : " These X u These remains of ancient panegyric on Mar. " tial spirit, and Personal Valour, of old, " the daily lessons of the Spartan Youth, " are, with propriety, inscribed to the " Young Gentlemen, lately bred at the " University of Glasgow, at present " serving their country, as Officers of the " Highland Battalions now in Ame- " RICA." The similarity of circumstances now, and in 1759> suggested to the present Translatur the propriety of a similar inscription : an inscription, however, of much more extensive appropriation, from the more critical aspect of the times — the greater magnitude of the stake— and the encreased range of military pre- paration. In superstitious moments, when the mind is pressed by tlie doubtful issue of great efforts, it gathers np circumstances, on which it builds, as matter of augury, in such a moment, the Translator hailed the auspicious issues issues of the efforts of the Defenders of their Country's rights in H5{), as happy omens of the issues of the more momentous efforts of their present Defenders. The former were covered with glory : the latter will be co- vered, also. They know that they struggle for a great stake.'. They struggle under the eye of many witnesses. The Persons of the Living — the Spirits of the Dead are around them. Both bring inspiration. The living eye beams encouragement : that of the valiant of other times shoots light through the shades of Death. Is this illusion? No. Old Edward's sons, unknown to yield, Shall crowd from Cressy's laurell'd field, And gaze with fix'd delight. Again, for Britain's wrongs they feel % Again they snatch the gleamy steel, And wish th' avenging fight. COLLINS, MARTIAL EFFUSIONS. — »**,WiV^*« I 11 e'er shall my verse record his vulgar name, Whose powers the Stadium and Palaestra bound ; Vast though his might, Cyclopean though his frame, Fleeter than Boreas though he sweep the ground. r» Fresh were his bloom, as did Tithonus grace, Greater his wealth than Midas e'er could tell, High were his birth, as Pclops' royal race, Sweeter his tones than from Adrastus fell,— R 3 Though every gift should every glory bring, If valour not his swelling breast inspire, No lay of mine his useless gifts shall sing ; 7. ays only wak'd by valour's holy fire ! 4 '- And who may claim the meed the Muse bestows r" Whom Death not scares, nor Terror prompts to yield ; Whose heart pants high with hostile bands to close; vVlio eyes, with front serene, the ensanguin'd field. 5 Such Hero well the Muse's wreath may claim ; Sweet wreath to bind the youthful Warrior's brow, Whose patriot Virtue guards a nation's fame, Whose patriot arm has crovvn'd a nation's vow ! 6 lie — he may claim the meed the Muse bestows ; Him Death not scares, nor Terror prompts to yield ; High pants his heart with hostile bands to close ! With front bcrene he eyes the ensanguin'd field ! 3 7 See him spring forth to meet the embattled Foe ; Dare his approach, his thrcat'ning spear defy ! Shoots through his eye his heart's enkindled glow, Inspiring kindred flames, which teach to die ! S The ranks recoil before his onward spear ; Elate, he breasts the Battle's purple flood : Back roll the surges ; with them, ah ! they bear The Hero, whelm'd in seas of hostile blood. 9 Far from his fallows born, he sinks opprest, }li.s helm and buckler hack'd with many a wound ; Darts close on darts transfix his manly breast; No gash ignoble on his back is found. 10 Saved by his death of Glory — saved and free, A grateful People high his trophies raise ; His deeds emblazon in the proud Decree, Av.i teach the infant tongue to lisp his praise. 11 Revering multitudes attend his bier ; In accents sad, the youth, the aged, mourns; Yet Triumph glistens through the grief-sprung tear, And Pride and Sorrow swell the heart by turns. 12 To Heaven uprear'd the votive columns rise, Which consecrate to Time his sainted name. Dear arc his children in their country's eyes ; And children's children's children heir his fame. 13 While sinks his body, wrapt in shades of Night, Up to the Realms of Light his Spirit hies ; Far o'er Earth's ken he wings his glorious flight. To meet the kindred Spirits of the skies. 14 I>ut — should he, safe, survive the noble strife, Should Valour shield him in the dread affray, What dazzling glories light his path of l.fe ! What softened radiance gilds his sotting day ! 15 Respect and Love attend his growing years ; Maintain his rights ; his sacred person shield. High seated shines he 'midst his yielding Peers, In council first, as foremost in the field. 16 He — he may claim the meed the Muse bestows : Him Death not scares, nor Terror prompts to yield; High pants his heart with hostile bands to close, With front serene he eyes the ensanguin'd field. II. 1 Spartan Heroes, martial Band. Armed to save the Spartan lar.J, When, from bed of soft Repose, Will yon spring to meet her Foes ? o Mark you not the scowling eye Of nations round you ? Hark! they en " Spartans, are you dead to Fame ? " Spartans, are you lost to Shame? 3 Halcyon Peace has fled the ground ; Hosts embattled gather round ; Spartans, rouse to Spartan toil ! — Strangers threat the Spartan soil ' 4 Away with Ease, away with Fear; Brace the helmet, couch the spear ; Poise the dart ; and, firm, advance, 'Neath the buckler's ample fence. 5 On to Battle; on to Fame ; On to gain a Patriot name : On to death, if die you must; But — GIVE THE FOE A PARTING THRUST. 6 O! how comely 'tis to fight For all that yields the heart delight , Country's freedom — Children's life — Aged Parent— spotless Wife. 7 And, O ! what honours deck his grave, Who dies those pledges dear to save. The stream tbat flows, when Virtue calif, Hallows the turf on which it falls. 8 8 Spartan Heroes, martial Band, Champions of the Spartan land ; Spartans, rouse to Spartan toil ! — bt rangers trkad the Spartan soil. Away to Battle ; on to Fame ; On to gain a Patriot name : On to death, if die you must ; Yet— GIVE THE FOE A PARTING THRUST. 10 Heaven has doom'd that all must fall, When the Fatal Sisters call : The peasant tribe — the Royal line — The Hero sprung from stock divine ! 11 But now he falls ; and whither hies ; To dark the night, or light the skies : To that the Hero bends his care ; To that the Hero points his prayer ' 9 12 The Coward, pale at War's alarms, W ho hurries far from din of arms, In Battle 'scapes a Hero's death, On couch supine to yield his breath ! 13 Darkness shades his grov'ling doom ; No brilliant trophies grace his tomb: No weeping Country mourns his fall ! Oblivion sweeps him from the ball! 14 But, who, his Native land to save, In Battle courts the Hero's grave, On each Life-Drop, that stains his biej, * His Country drops a precious tear ! 15 Falling so, he falls in Glory ; He rises great in Spartan story ; Martial legends saint his name ; And give his deeds to deathless Fame ! 10 16 The votive urn preserves his dust; With Gods and Heroes stands his Bust ; Himself a God ; himself a Band ; The Fortress proud that joys the land I 17 Spartan Heroes, martial Band, Champions of the Spartan land, Spartans, rouse to Spartan toil ! — Strangers CLAIM the Spartan toil! 18 Then, on to meet those Aliens bold, Whose feet profane your sacred mold ; — //"Sparta's soil they needs must have, Give them, each, a Spartan grave ! 19 Then, on to Battle ; on to Fame ; On to gain a Patriot name : On to death, if die you must; And — REACH THE FOE A PARTING THRUST ! u III. Ty here is the progeny of great Alcides, Lnconquered erst, as he, from whom they sprung ? Why fades the colour on their manly cheeks, When marshall'd for the fight ? rouse, Spartans, rouse f The fav'ring eye of Jove yet beams upon you. What, tho* your Foes advance, a furious Host Of countless thousands ; let not that unnerve Your steady arm ; but, boldly, march right on To meet them. To their front each Hero press ; His buckler's fence opposed full to their spears. No mean ignoble lust of future days Lurk in your hearts; but, be the shades of Death Welcome alike with Life's bright cheering ray ! 12 No strangers to your souls, or to your arm, Arc martial struggles, and th' alternate issues Those struggles bring. Oft' in backward rout, The Foe has fled before you. Time has been You, too, have yielded; but, when Spartans yield, They yield but to return with double ardour To the fierce Fight. — Yet better Honour saved, Than, even with matchless Gallantry, redeemed ! Does Danger shake you ? Ponder, Spartans, well The fate of Warriors firm, that stand compact, Wedged in close column, each to each a bulwark, And theirs, who stray dispersed, or skulk behind. Fewer, by far, the bold in Battle fall, Than fall the terror-struck who fly from Glory ! And, oh ! what tongue can speak the foul disgrace, The many thousand ills, of every colour, That fix on him, who with a Coward's name,. Among the Erave, is branded ! Oh! the horror, When on the soldier's back, as, panick-driven, He flics, by the pursuing blade imprinted, Streaming is seen the sad inglorious wound ! Oh, sight of Shame, to see his haggard carcase Rot on the plain, transfix 'd with darts behind ! Ah! gallant race of Jove's all-gallant son, Recoil with horror from a taint so foul ! Ne'er be your Front erect, your light'ning Eye, Averted seen from the advancing Foe ! With either foot fast rivetted to earth, Take your firm stand. With fierce and threat'ning mien, Close o'er your limbs, and thighs, and breast, and shoulders, Bring your protecting buckler's ample round. On high uplifted poise each man his dart : Nod awful on his helm his shining crest : Let his own gallant Feats new prompt his Valour, Begetting each his equal. Nevef, in the rear, With buckler on his arm, and spear in hand, Let Spartan soldier seek ignoble shelter ; But, pressing to the front, close with his man ; H Thrusting him through with firm protended spear, Or hewing him to earth with his stout falchion. 'Ware, Spartans, how you scatter in the conflict. In close compact battalion stand united ; Foot pressing foot, and helmet touching helm, Buckler in4>uckler lock'd, shoulder to shoulder. Let all your waving plumes nod close as one. Ye, too, ye lighter squadrons, take jour stand, Where best your efforts may assist the Phalanx ; Not mixing with the close embattled line, Nor from it distant far. Fenced by his shield, Each, as each may, strive to annoy the Foe. Discharge, full on him, showers of massy stones ; Or scatter on his flank your well aim'd darts. Thus, each assisting each, all strength'ning all, In common cause exerting common might, Secure the glorious issue of the day ; Fair Sparta's Freedom, and fair Sparta's Fame ! 15 IV. ]D)eath, when Time or Chance may call, Is Nature's stern award to all : Death, their Native land to save, Is Nature's Bounty to the Bra