<^BERKELEY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ^CALIFORNIA 
 
 5rt5b Xiterar^ Society, Xon^on 
 
 LIBRARY RULES 
 
 Members of the Society who desire to utilise the 
 Library will please observe the following rules : 
 
 I. 
 
 Not more than one book may be borrowed 
 at a time, and that not until any previously 
 borrowed book has been returned. 
 
 II. 
 
 The utmost care to be taken of books, and 
 any injury to or loss of them made good by the 
 borrower. 
 
 in. 
 
 All books must be obtained from the Hon. 
 Librarian or General Secretary and returned to 
 either of them one month from the date when 
 borrowed. 
 
 A n. 
 
 
 
^/ Z.^--, ^•^^' 
 
MY BOOK. 
 
 MY BOOK is to myself so like. 
 And there 's so few myself who like, 
 I fear there 's few my Book will like. 
 If 1 had cared to paint less like 
 IJnadorned Nature, and more like 
 Daubings of Boz, Phiz, and such like 
 Caricaturists, more would like 
 Me and my Book, fewer dislike* 
 
 MY BOOK is a bazaar 
 In which my poems are 
 
 Each one a separate shop ; 
 If in this one you don't find 
 What 's exactly to your mind, 
 
 Into the next one pop. 
 
 JAMES HENRY. 
 
 WAISENHAUS-STRASSE, DRESDEN, 
 JUNE 2. 1853. 
 
BOOKSELLER. 
 
 Biiy this book, it is a good one, 
 Fiiil of sense and wit and learning. 
 Think of the poor author pining, 
 Half fed, half clad, in a 8c4rret. 
 
 He has made me his receiver, 
 Faithfully with him I 11 reckon. 
 Biiy his book, it is a cheap one, 
 For three shillings you shall have it. 
 
 Thank you, Sir; of these three shillings 
 Three pence clear goes to the author. 
 Out of which he 'II pay the printer; 
 1 've the balance for my trouble. 
 
 Waisenhaus-Strasse. DRESDEN, Juno 8. 1853. 
 
^ -r- 
 
 POET'S AUTOBIOGUAPHY. 
 
 The Registry preserves the date, 
 
 Thh'teenth December, Ninety eight, 
 
 When first the spindle of my fate 
 
 Began to twirl, and at Fifteen 
 
 Of Hoggin once, now College, Green, 
 
 In the Irish capital of our Queen, 
 
 I entered on this mortal state, 
 
 Nearly two thousand years too late, 
 
 A chubby, handsome, healthy boy, 
 
 My father's pride, my mother's joy. 
 
 At two years old 1 'd learned to walk 
 
 And my half- native language talk; 
 
 Forty months older went to school, 
 
 Where I v/as forced to live by riile, 
 
 To spell, make figures, and to hammer 
 
 Hard at the quirks and querks of grammar. 
 
 My Master was one Joseph Hiitton, 
 
 Black browed, black dressed, black every button; 
 
 Grim, feruled tyrant I skilled to riile 
 
 By fear, not love, his ill -taught school; 
 
 Who could of Christian charity preach, 
 
 Yet knew each schoolboy by his breech. 
 
 At ten 1 first began to dance; 
 
 At twelve I 'd written a romance 
 
 Fiill of the Arabian tales and Homer, 
 
 4:v 
 
Minerva, Mars, and caliph Omar. 
 
 At fourteen , sent to grope for knowledge 
 
 Among the monks of Trinity College, 
 
 I learned each had an income clear 
 
 Of twice five hundred pounds a year; 
 
 For which he took an oath to preach 
 
 Staunch orthodoxy, and to teach 
 
 Saint Patrick's rising g-eneration 
 
 To know, by certain calculation, 
 
 How many times four pops make eight, 
 
 And why a curved line is not straight. 
 
 Fifteen and half years old, one day — 
 
 'Twas in this flowery month of May — > 
 
 A pair of bhie eyes beamed on me 
 
 So softly, sweetly, tenderly, 
 
 1 all at once forgot books, knowledge. 
 
 And orthodoxy and my college; 
 
 All vanished, hke dissolving views. 
 
 From my young brain, or, if ye choose,. ,. 
 
 From my poor heart, and in their place 
 
 Came airs angelic, forms of g-race. 
 
 Visions of constancy and triith, 
 
 Dreams of unchanging love and youth. 
 
 I gazed, 1 wished, 1 hoped, 1 sighed; 
 
 She smiled, looked sad, and drooped and died; 
 
 And I had wept, ere quite sixteen, 
 
 Upon the churchyard hillock green. 
 
 That answered coldly to my sighs: — 
 
 For ever cl()sed those bright, blue eyes; 
 
 Corruption, clods and worms dwell here; 
 
 Away, young man, dry lip that tear. 
 
 ignorant, ardent, and seventeen. 
 Medicine 's a glorious thing, I ween: 
 
How near a God is he who ciiii 
 Assuage the panics of brother man, 
 Smooth the sick pillow, and, with bahn 
 Potent the throbbing- pulse to calm, 
 Woo to the aching lids coy Sleep, 
 And plunge the sense in Lethe deep. 
 Five years, long- years, 1 visited 
 Early and late the poor man's bed, 
 Lived midst contagion, filth and groans, 
 Pored over dead men's mouldering bones, 
 Or with the an atomiser's knife 
 And microscope tracked subtle Life 
 From her outworks through nerve and vein 
 into her donjon in the brain, 
 And thence to her outworks again. 
 Backwards and forwards, round and round, 
 O'er all th' enchanted castle's ground — 
 In vain! in vain! — I beat the air — 
 She has been here, she has been there; 
 Her footprints they are every where; 
 But the fay's self — put lip thy knife — 
 Thou seek'st thyself, thyself art Life. 
 
 A Doctor learned at twenty two. 
 
 Great is my wonder 1 've so few 
 
 Sick calls, ■•what can the reason be 
 
 Scarce once a month drops in a fee? 
 
 There 's Doctor Lancet — ciinning fellow! - 
 
 Posting by in his carriage yellow; 
 
 I doubt if he could diagnose 
 
 'Twixt Scarlatina and the Rose, 
 
 Yet his door knocker 's idle never, 
 
 And about he 's galloping ever, 
 
 Paying minute visits to Uie sick, 
 
And writing- recipes so quick 
 
 His pills and powders, draughts and drops, 
 
 Jostle in the chemists' shops. 
 
 I know five limes as miich as he, 
 
 Yet rarely comes a case to me; 
 
 What is — what can the reason be? 
 
 I '11 ask himself — ■ who knows so w^ell? 
 
 Knows, to be sure — but will he tell? 
 
 I '11 try. Betide the worst that will, 
 
 Small way is made by sitting still. 
 
 Knock knock, knock knock: — "Doctor at home?" 
 
 "Yes sir, step in." "Doctor, I 'm come 
 
 To beg you '11 tell me, if you please, 
 
 How 'tis you get so many fees, 
 
 So keep in apple-pie condition, 
 
 While 1, no less a good physician. 
 
 Perish, almost, of inanition." 
 
 The Doctor smiled, and shook his head: — 
 
 "1 think I know your case," he said; 
 
 "You study sickness and desease; 
 
 They have no money, pay no fees, 
 
 I study men, and men to please; 
 
 Men have the money, pay the fees." 
 
 "But if the patient chance to die?" — 
 
 "Why, then God killed him, and not /; 
 
 Death is God's will — must be enddfed — ; 
 
 All that recover / have ciired." 
 
 I bowed and thiinked him, and saw clear 
 
 Two thousand sterling pounds a year, 
 
 Fame, liveries and yellow coach, 
 
 On the left hand, make their approach; 
 
 And weeping Honor on the right 
 
 With outspread wings ready for flight: — 
 
 "Stay, Honor, stay, we 'II not part so; 
 
Together tlirough the world we Ml go: 
 Fold lip thy wings — " and, us I spoke, 
 V'anished into thin air, like smoke, 
 Coach, liveries, and income clear 
 Two thousand sterling pounds a year. 
 
 Till twenty eight my destiny 
 
 Kept her best gift in store for me — 
 
 A second self, than self more dear — 
 
 My paper 's blotted — 'tis a tear: 
 
 Four years two months ago this day 
 
 In South Tirol a corpse she lay. 
 
 Wreathed round with lily and with rose 
 
 In yonder marble vase repose 
 
 The relics of her funeral pyre, 
 
 The cinders that survived the fire. 
 
 Still twenty years the lot be mine, 
 
 Fresh roses round that lirn to twine 
 
 And on the garland drop a tear, 
 
 As I renew it year by year; 
 
 Then come, my child — my Katharine, come - 
 
 That lirn is my long- chosen home; 
 
 There lay my cinders, and each year 
 
 Honor thy parents with a tear 
 
 And a fresh wreath; and, when at last 
 
 Thou too through life's long death hast past 
 
 Rejoin thy parents in their lirn. 
 
 And there with them to dust return, 
 
 Happy if some kind heart a tear 
 
 Drop on that lirn the following year, 
 
 Or hang fresh wreath of rosemary, 
 
 And sigh, and say: — ''I knew the three/* 
 
 \VAi3Er<HAUs-STRASsE, DRESDEN, May 5. 185:3. 
 
POET AND MUSE, 
 
 Now, wayward Miise, 
 You '11 not refuse 
 
 To sing a song-, 
 A verse or tw6 
 Of something new, 
 
 And not too long, 
 
 Sing it yourself. 
 Poetic elf. 
 
 It 's you 're inspired; 
 You 've dragged me through 
 Both old and new, 
 
 Till I am tired, 
 
 Waisenhaus-Strasse, DRESDEN, May 14, 1853. 
 
EDWARD AND ROSALIE. 
 
 There 's a knock at the door, there 's a piill at the bell, 
 
 There 's a step on the stair, and she knows the step well; 
 
 The work drops from her hand, and she bounds cross the floor, 
 
 And the same arms enclasp her, that clasped her of yore — 
 
 That clasped her at parting, when o'er the wide sea 
 
 To the wars Edward went, from his fair Rosalie: — 
 
 "Now, Edward, my Edward, thou Idok'st thin and pale; 
 
 What 's befallen thee, my loved one? What can Edward ail? 
 
 Hast been sick, or a prisoner? or travelled too far 
 
 And too fast home again from the long Turkish war?'' 
 
 "I have not been prisoner, 1 have not been sick; 
 
 And who to his bride home e'er travelled too quick? 
 
 No, Rosalie, Rosalie — Biit I .'11 not speak 
 
 The fatal word out — rather let my heart break." 
 
 *' Speak it out, renegade — for the Crescent 1 see 
 
 Glittering here on thy breast, where the Cross used to be — 
 
 Speak it out, renegade — then for ever farewell — 
 
 From this hour I 'm the cloister's — thou hearest the bell." 
 
 "One moment, one moment, my Rosalie, stay — 
 
 I 'm no longer poor Edward; I 'm rich Osman Bey; 
 
 The steed 's at the door, and not far off the sea 
 
 Where the ship rocking lies that shall this night with me 
 
 Far away from the Christian's land bear Rosalie." 
 
"1 know thee not, recreant — ah, black, dismal day! - 
 Poor Edward my troth has, not rich Osman Bey. 
 Away o'er the waiters without Rosalie — 
 1 give thee thy troth back — away — thou art free." 
 He 's gone down to the ship, he 's away o'er the sea 
 And the cloister gate 's closed upon fair Rosalie; 
 True lover 's i'or ever from true lover parted, 
 He in sorrow to live, she to die broken hearted. 
 
 Waisenhaus-Sthasse, DRESDEN, May 29. 185H. 
 
 DING 1) N G . 
 
 "Ding dong, Ding dong, 
 
 Posling along 
 
 Through the morning air, 
 
 Stop there, stop there." 
 
 "What would'st thou say? 
 
 Be brief I pray, 
 
 The minutes fly, 
 
 Short time have 1 
 
 In chiit to spend; 
 
 Make haste, good friend." 
 
 *'Few words will do; 
 
 Just tell me true, 
 
 When 1 am dead 
 
 And on my head 
 
 By sexton's spade 
 
 The greensward 's laid, 
 
 Under the shade 
 
Of yon grey birch 
 Behind the chiirch, - 
 What wilt thou say 
 Upon that day?" 
 "Ding- dong, Ding dong, 
 Dong ding, Ding dong." 
 
 "One moment more — 
 And if, before 
 The sexton's spade 
 The sward has laid 
 Upon my head, 
 1 chance to wed, 
 And lead a bride 
 In beauty's pride 
 Up the church aisle. 
 Meeting the. smile 
 Of friends, and showers 
 Of bright spring flowers. 
 What wilt thou say 
 Upon that day?" 
 "Ding dong, Ding dong, 
 Dong ding. Ding dong." 
 
 "And when my bride 
 Lies by my side 
 Under the sward 
 Of that churchyard, 
 And sexton's spade 
 Has even made 
 Her sod with mine, 
 And children twine 
 Sweet eglantine 
 And jessamine 
 
Round that grey birch 
 Behind the clnirch, 
 Or sit and weep 
 By the new raised heap, 
 Oft wondering- why 
 Up to the sky 
 Mother shoukl go 
 That loved them so — 
 Upon that day 
 What wilt thou say?" 
 ♦'Ding dong, Ding dong, 
 Dong ding, Ding dong." 
 
 ^'Begone, Ding dong; 
 Thou 'st staid too long. 
 Through the morning air 
 Whithersoe'er^ 
 Or quick or slow, 
 Thou lik'st to go , 
 Begone, Ding dong, 
 And sing thy song. 
 Whether thou guide 
 To th' altars side 
 Bridegroom and bride, 
 Or to the tomb 
 Bride and bridegroom, 
 1 care not, so 
 From lience thou go, 
 Sad voice of woe. 
 
 Waisenhaus-Strasse, DRESDKiN, May 11. 1853. 
 
GOOD NIGHT. 
 
 Sweet, good night; 
 Till morning light 
 
 In slumber lie, 
 Then come and stay 
 By me all day 
 
 And 1 'II not siirh. 
 
 'D' 
 
 Sweet, good night; 
 Till morning light 
 
 Dream but of me, 
 Who dream ahvay 
 Both night and day 
 
 Only of thee. 
 
 Waisenhaus-Strasse, DRESDEN, May 13. 1853. 
 
 GOOD MORROW. 
 
 Good morrow, Sweet; 
 Pleasant to meet 
 
 Thee and the light; 
 Dark without thee 
 Were day to me, 
 
 Dark as midnight. 
 
 Good morrow, Sweet; 
 Pleasant to meet 
 
 Thee and the light; 
 Stay but with me, 
 And i 'II not see 
 
 Darkness in night. 
 
 WaisE-NHAus-Strasse, DRESDEN, May 14. 18r)3. 
 
EicOcfjen, gut' 3tttcf)t. 
 
 9lu^ bcm ©ngtifd^cn be^ Jr. J. gcnri). 
 
 £lcM;en, gut' ^adjtl 
 f&i^ ber 5)Zorgen lad^t 
 
 9^uy in ®ct)tinnmer geiuicgt. 
 ;i)ann fomm, BlelB t)ter 
 ^en Xag fei mir, 
 
 (So feufj' icl) nicf;t. 
 
 £ie6(i)en, gut' dla<^tl 
 *Blg ber a)?orgen rad)t 
 
 2:rdum' nur i^on mtr, 
 $Der fd)Iafenb unb wad) 
 ^Bei 9Za(i}t unb ZaQ 
 
 Zxamnt nur ijon bit. 
 
 JlreaJjen, 15. 3)^ii 1853. 
 
 311. Cinbcmann. 
 
 "Pretty maid, tell me the reason 
 Why you l)liisli when 1 come near yon? 
 Why you tremble, cast your eyes down, 
 And so fiimble with your knitting?" 
 
 "llather tell me, silly young man, 
 Why you 're ever hovering near me? 
 Wiiy I never can alone be, 
 Sunday, weekday, morn or evening?" 
 
"Pretty maid, it is so pleasant 
 To be always looking- at you; 
 ] would like to be your brother, 
 Or your sister, to be near you.'" 
 
 "Silly young man, ] 'm no picture 
 To be idly stared and gazed at; 
 Go, get something to employ you; 
 Hunt or fish — or knit as I do." 
 
 "Come with me and we '11 go hunting-. 
 Or with me come to the river, 
 Or I '11 sit down here beside you, 
 And assist you with your knitting." 
 
 "Idle young man, 1 'U employ you. 
 Here 's a letter for my Truelove; 
 Go and find him, give it to him. 
 And bring back the answer quickly." 
 
 "Where shall 1 look for your Truelove? 
 In the city, or the country? 
 What 's his name? there 's no address here, 
 Not one word of superscription." 
 
 " Give 't me back — I 'm so forgetful — 
 Let me see — what is 't they call him? — 
 There — write you the superscription; 
 I 'm too biisy with my knitting-." 
 
 "Pretty maid, 1 've found your Triielove; 
 And he sends you back this answer. 
 On your fing-er ever wear it. 
 Drop your knitting; come with me, Love." 
 Waisenhaus-Strasse, DRESDEN, June 6. 1853. 
 
POET AND FRIEND. 
 
 POET. 
 
 Throug-h the wide world go where I will, 
 Two shadowy forms go with me still: 
 One tall and handsome, fresh and brig-ht, 
 And gaily clad, keeps on my right; 
 To look on him from morn till night, 
 And night till morn , is my delight. 
 A stunted dwarf in shabby clothes 
 The other on my left hand goes, 
 Odious to look on or be near. 
 Who these forms are 1 'd like to hear. 
 Or why with me for ever so 
 Round and round the world they go. 
 
 FRIEND. 
 
 Though you 're no Sphinx, no Oedipus I, 
 
 To read your riddle 1 will try. 
 
 Those forms are shadows of yourself; 
 
 He on the left — that stiinted elf — 
 
 Your very image, all declare, 
 
 Sir poet's likeness to a hair. 
 
 The right hand figure, 1 confess, 
 
 Is far less like you, yet, I guess, 
 
 Is still your silhouette; painted bright. 
 
 As you appear in your own sight. 
 
 By two such shapes, one on each side. 
 
 Each traveller 's accompanied 
 
 Along life's road. I '11 lay my head 
 
 Against a pin, your riddle *s read. 
 
 Waisenhaus-Strasse, DRESDEN, May 28. 1853. 
 
HUMBUGS SECRET. 
 
 It happened, or by chance or fate. 
 
 One evening- promenading- late 
 
 Upon the mall, Humbug- and 1 
 
 Fell into each other's company: — 
 
 "Come, knowings Humbug- , tell me -why 
 
 So many years in vain I try 
 
 Up in this world one step to rise; 
 
 Though riches, honors, dig^nities 
 
 Round me descend in heaven-sent showers, 
 
 Gladdening- this thirsty earth of ours, 
 
 They never on me their dew let fall, 
 
 I never come in for a drop at all. 
 
 There 's none can tell so well as you 
 
 If half men say of you be triie." 
 
 Humbug looked g-rave, and shook his head, 
 
 And thiis in solemn accents said: — 
 
 ''There 's some g-ood cause; let 's feel your skiill 
 
 Here 's Cunning- small, and Honor fiill — 
 
 A fatal combination that — 
 
 And Worldly -mindedness quite flat; 
 
 And this bump, like an orange, here 
 
 Upon your forehead, how I fear 
 
 It 's Poetry, not Calculation; 
 
 And then I find no Adulation, 
 
 And not a grain of Veneration, 
 
 But huge Philosophy instead — 
 
 I never felt a worse shaped head." 
 
I drew a deep and heartfelt sigh: — 
 
 "Show me but how, I Ml gladly try 
 
 To exchange my head, Humbug," said 1, 
 
 "For one of a more modern ciit — " 
 
 "You take me quite too serious; tiit! 
 
 I was only joking, heads are but 
 
 Of secondary consequence, 
 
 Unless they 're quite weighed down with sense.' 
 
 "Then what 's the main throw, Hiinibug, pray? 
 
 The chief point of importance, say? 
 
 The first great thing which l must do 
 
 To get on in the world like you?" 
 
 "According to their various views, 
 
 Some men the hat praise, some the shoes, 
 
 Some say kidgloves are the main thing, 
 
 Others that you must learn to sing 
 
 Not first, but second; some insist, 
 
 A mitre has been got by whist: 
 
 You miist believe in heaven and hell 
 
 So long as you in England dwell; 
 
 But, go to Germany, they '11 stare 
 
 And fly perhaps into your hair, 
 
 if you but hint it possible 
 
 A good God ever made a hell — " 
 
 "Stop there," I answered short and griiff; 
 
 "Your rigmarole is long enough; 
 
 I asked you how best to succeed 
 
 In earthly things, not for a creed." 
 
 "And so, young man, you think you 're wiser 
 
 Than he you 've chosen for your adviser? 
 
 Go, rise to honors and dignities 
 
 Whatever shorter way you please; 
 
 I 've done with you." "Stay, Humbug, stay — 
 
 Forgive me — leave me not this way; 
 
Command me, bid me, I obey." 
 
 "I '11 take your word," Humbiig: replied, 
 
 And came up kindly by my side, 
 
 And took my arm, and in my ear 
 
 Close whispered, that none else might hear:- 
 
 "The secret Hes neither in hat, 
 
 Creed, nor kidgioves, but in a cat." 
 
 "A cat?" said 1, cocking- my ear; 
 
 "A cat? or did I rightly hear?" 
 
 "A cat," said he, close whispering back, 
 
 "Whether gray, tdrtoiseshell, or black, 
 
 Or white, you 've only to take care 
 
 To stroke her canny with the hair: 
 
 She '11 rub herself against your chair. 
 
 And follow you lip and down the stair, 
 
 Purring her feline gratitude; 
 
 But should you chance with action rude 
 
 To nib her once against the hair. 
 
 Beware her fangs. The world 's a cat — " 
 
 "Enough!" said 1, and thrice my hat 
 
 Pitched into the air, "I have it pat: 
 
 Stroke with the hair the human cat. 
 
 If you 'd not fare worse than a rat. 
 
 The human cat stroke with the hair, 
 
 She '11 riib herself against your chair. 
 
 And follow you lip and down the stair. 
 
 Ah, Humbug, biit true wisdom 's rare! 
 
 And now^ you rogue, I 've stroked you right, 
 
 And got your secret — so, good night." 
 
 Waisenhaus-Strasse, DRESDEN, May 18. lHb'6. 
 
EDWARD AND MARY. 
 
 EDWARD. 
 
 Mary, I swear — 
 By this iight and air — 
 By heaven above — 
 Thou art my Love — 
 For thee I sigh — 
 For thee 1 die — 
 Stay, Mary, stay — 
 Ah, dismal day! 
 And canst thou go? 
 And leave me so? 
 Then fare thee well ! 
 How handsome 's Nell! 
 Her eyes how bright! 
 Her skin how white! 
 What riiby lips! 
 How light she trips — 
 
 MARY. 
 
 I don't believe. 
 You but deceive. 
 It is not true. 
 I love not you. 
 In vain, in vain. 
 'Twill cure your pain. 
 Good bye, good bye. 
 How happy 1! 
 Gone, gone for ever. 
 To come back never. 
 What did you say? 
 Who 's* Nell, I pray? 
 You do but jest. 
 You plague, you pest! 
 
 Eldward, I say — 
 
 # 
 
 I 'U stay, I 'II stay. 
 
How like a fawn — 
 
 Across the lawn! 
 
 When Nell is nig^h — 
 
 1 never sigh. 
 
 Her silver voice — 
 
 Makes my heart rejoice. 
 
 And then her mind — 
 
 As soft as kind! 
 There lives but one — 
 One, only one — 
 Whom i prefer — 
 To Nell prefer — 
 And thou art she — 
 Mary, thou 'rt she — 
 Mary, thou 'rt mine — 
 And i am thine — 
 Then good bye, Nell — 
 Mary and 1 — 
 
 1 'm yours alone. 
 1 'm Edward's own. 
 1 'm in despair. 
 1 '11 tear her hair. 
 Discordant scream! 
 Do 1 wake or dream? 
 I '11 fret her yet. ' 
 The pert Grisette! 
 How rash was I ! 
 I die, 1 die. 
 Stay, let me hear — 
 I fear, 1 fear — 
 What did you say? 
 Blest day, blest day! 
 Yes, Edward, yes. 
 happiness! 
 And good bye, sorrow 
 
 Are one tomorrow. 
 Waisenhaus-Strasse. DRESDEN, May 20. 1853. 
 
TODAY AND TOMORROW. 
 
 Promenading as lisual along the same street 
 Today and Tomorrow once happened to meet: — 
 "Now, good coiism Tomorrow," thus said sad Today, 
 "How conies it you 're always so merry and gay? 
 Not a cloud shades your brow, not a tear dims your eye, 
 All sunshine and roses and bright, sapphire sky." 
 "Don't mock me, dear Yesterday," answered Tomorrow; 
 "I am heavy and sad, my heart breaking with sorrow. 
 It 's ijou have the sunshine and bright, sapphire sky, 
 A brow ever cloudless, a tear undimmed eye. 
 From morning till night / do nothing but sigh — 
 Sigh for Yesterday's happiness. Yesterday's joys; 
 It 's Yesterday only no trouble annoys." 
 "Alas! dear Tomorrow, and do you say so? 
 And that smile on your face only hides your heart's woe? 
 I could never have thought you wore siich a false show." 
 "Your unfortunate cousin you 'd not so upbraid. 
 If you knew with what griefs to the grcuuid he is weighed." 
 "Forgive me, dear Coz; from the depth of my heart 
 I pity your case. Could I comfort impart — ^" 
 "Nay, nay, that 's impossible — Cousin, good bye; 
 Enjoy your good fortune, and leave me to sigh." 
 So said, he went on, and no word added more, 
 And Today slowly followed, more sad than before. 
 
 Waisenhaus-Stiiasse, DRESDEN, May 13. 1853. 
 
RECOVERY. 
 
 Hiisli, ye riide ones, stir not, breathe not 
 Sliunber 's falling- on his eyeUds; 
 Fr(3ni the fever's heat and tossing 
 The tired frame at last is resting. 
 
 Softly draw the window curtains — 
 Shut out the intriisiv-e daylight — 
 Stay; stay: let one little niy in, 
 Just to show how calm he 's sleeping. 
 
 Pale and stink although his cheek is., 
 Yet it 's soft, and cool, and placid; 
 And he draws his breathing even; 
 And there 's dew upon his forehead. 
 
 Richly now how ye 're rewarded, 
 All my nights and days of watching! 
 More than payment this one moment 
 For a hundred years of sorrow. 
 
 Down njy cheeks the tears are stealing, 
 On his blanched hand noiseless drojjping; 
 Blessed, blessed Sleep, I thank thee — 
 They 're a wife's tears, not a widow's. 
 
 Waisenhaus-Strasse, DRESDEN, June 7. l^b'i. 
 
MARY. 
 
 Mary, pliick me yonder rosebud; 
 From thine hand I 'm fain to have it. 
 if thou wilt not, let it hang there — 
 What care t about the rosebud? 
 
 Mary, sing me the new ballad; 
 From thy lips 1 long to hear it. 
 If thou wilt not, little care 1 
 If I never hear the ballad. 
 
 Mary, come, and let us saunter 
 Half an hour about the meadow. 
 If thou wilt not, 1 will stay here — 
 Let who will, stroll in the meadow. 
 
 Mary, sit down here beside me, 
 Till we chat a while together. 
 If thou wilt not, I '11 be silent — 
 1 care but to chat with Mary. 
 
 Mary, canst thou go and leave me 
 Here alone to pine in sorrow? — 
 Ah, she 's gone! and little care I 
 If I never see tomorrow. 
 
 WaisENHAUs-Strasse, DRESDEN, June 3. 1853. 
 
BESSIE, 'TIS A SUNNY MORNING. 
 
 Bessie, 'tis a siinny morning, 
 
 And the larks are sing^ing- gaily; 
 
 Get your bonnet, lay your book down — 
 
 They are at the hay already. 
 
 Take your fork, toss out the lap-cocks — 
 With the dew they 're wet and heavy — 
 Spread them to the siin and air well, 
 There 's a morning soon will dry them. 
 
 Shake them, toss them, turn them over, 
 Let no two stalks lie together, 
 Till the whole field we have covered 
 With a light, soft, springy carpet. 
 
 What a pleasure to be working — 
 Making food for honest Pieball — 
 In the bright, sunshiny morning, 
 With the larks about us singing! 
 
 Biit it 's neither honest Pieball, 
 
 Nor the larks about me singing, 
 
 Nor the fresh, sunshiny morning 
 
 That makes me work with such pleasure 
 
For were you not with me, Bessie, 
 Helping- me to toss the hay out, 
 1 'd scarce know the larks were sing-in 
 Or sun shining on the hayfield. 
 
 Toss it, tiirn it, spread it well out 
 To the hot sun and the dry air; 
 In the evening we will cock it: 
 You 're a brave haymaker, Bessie. 
 
 Waisenhaus-Strasse, DRESDEN, June 11. 1853- 
 
 b » 
 
 Once it happened on a Friday — 
 Fridays always were unlucky — 
 In the doubtful month of April, 
 1 walked out without umbrella. 
 
 1 had on thin shoes and stockings, 
 And a coat more fit for July 
 Than the treacherous month of April , 
 And my trowsers were of nankeen. 
 
 1 was thinking of my Triielove, 
 And my way lay toward her dwelling 
 Two miles distant as the bird Hies — 
 She expected me that evening. 
 
 Of the way I 'd made a quarter, 
 Ever thinking of my Triielove, 
 When the rain began to patter. 
 And to spot my nankeen trowsers. 
 
Tiish! said 1, it is no matter — 
 April showers were never lasting, 
 Nankeens won't be long a -drying — 
 1 '11 not disappoint my Triielove. 
 
 Patter, patter, still the rain went, 
 And the drops grew ever larger, 
 And before long my nankeens stuck 
 To my skin like wet brown paper. 
 
 Patter, patter, still the rain went, 
 And the drops fell thick and thicker, 
 And the road grew deep and splashy, 
 And my shoes let in the water; 
 
 And the stream that from my hat ran 
 Down behind upon my shoulders, 
 Would have turned a Httle mill-wheel 
 Had there been one at my coat tail. 
 
 Never wetter was Leander 
 To his Hero nightly swimming, 
 Never wetter was a drowned rat, 
 Noah's ark was never wetter. 
 
 Sure 1 am, she 's thinking of nie, 
 Looking out upon the weather; 
 Well she knows the rain won't sl()p me 
 W^ell she knows there is no shcltei". 
 
 Patter, patter, still the rain went, 
 And the road grew ever deeper; 
 Well! said 1, it is small matter — 
 Come what will, I '11 to my Truelove. 
 
As I spoke, a sudden gust came; 
 In a twinkling- off my hat flew; 
 Flitting- lip my hand to save it, 
 Down into tlie ditch my foot sUpped. 
 
 in the striig-g-Ie 1 fell over; 
 *Twas the friendly brambles saved me, 
 Else 1 'd sp*rained my wrist or ancle, 
 Or perhaps put out my shoulder. 
 
 'T was the friendly brambles saved me — 
 Caug-ht me by the nankeen trowsers — 
 Broke my fall — but ah! my nankeens — 
 What a rent! — What shall 1 now do? 
 
 Recreant, canst thou tiirn and leave her 
 Waiting-, watching: at the window? 
 "What is 't keeps my Love from coming? 
 Truelove never minded weather." 
 
 There 's the house in view already; 
 And the hour, I hear it chiming — 
 Spite of trowsers, spite of wetting, 
 1 '11 be with thee. Love, this evening. 
 
 Fortune ever smiles on courage: 
 In my sleeve behold a strong pin — 
 Tailored in a trice my trowsers, 
 Jiist enough to keep my shirt in. 
 
 Pocket handkerchief, tied neatly 
 Twice round head and e^ars and temples, 
 With extemporaneous tiirban 
 Loss of beaver hat replaces. 
 
Bravo! Bravo! I have conquered; 
 Here 's th' approach up to the house leads 
 Rain, wind, fall, lost hat, torn trovvsers, 
 1 despise you — there 's my Triielove. 
 
 There she 's at the window standing:; 
 To the door she flies to meet me — 
 Never in sunshiny weather 
 Had we half so pleasant meeting-. 
 
 First she laughed, and then she made me 
 Ten times over tell my story, 
 As she heaped the fire with billets. 
 And set down tea, wine, and sweetmeats. 
 
 And she looked so kindly on me, 
 And so called me her Leander, 
 As she chid me lor persisting: 
 To come on despite the weather, 
 
 That as I sat there beside her, 
 Drying my wet clothes, and sipping- 
 The hot tea that her own dear self 
 Made, poured out, and handed to me, 
 
 i could not but pray in secret 
 I might always get a drenching, 
 Lose my hat, and tear my trowsers, 
 On my way to see my Triielove. 
 
 Waisknhaus-Strasse, DRESDEN, June 9. 1853. 
 
WILLIAM AND LUCY. 
 
 WILLIAM. 
 
 Like a summer morning early 
 Fresh, and sweet, and mild is Liicy. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 Like a summer noonday 's William, 
 Radiant, bright, and strong-, and handsome. 
 
 WILLIAM. 
 
 Tender, pensive, melancholy 
 Liicy 's like a summer evening. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 W^illiam, when he 's sad, is like a 
 Summer's night when stars are twinkling. 
 
 WILLIAM. 
 
 Liicy 's like a golden willow 
 Bending- o'er a garden fountain, 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 William 's like a stately cedar 
 Wlien it 's in full, leaf in Jiily. 
 
 WILLIAM. 
 
 Liicy 's like the autumn moonlight 
 On the yellow cornsheaves sleeping. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 William 's like the crimson sunbeams 
 On the new -ploughed upland fallow. 
 
 WILLIAM. 
 
 Liicy 's like the glassy,' clear lake 
 When no breath its bosom wrinkles. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 William \s like the deep, full river 
 Onward rolling: toward the ocean. 
 
WILLIAM. 
 
 Liicy 's like Acanthus volute 
 By the liand of Phidias chiseled. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 AViUiam 's like the porphyry pillar 
 The entablature sustaining-. 
 
 WILLIAM. 
 
 Liicy 's like the niins' chant stealing 
 Through the cloister bars at vespers. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 William 's like the anthem pealing 
 Through the aisles of the cathedral. 
 
 WILLIAM. 
 
 Liicy 's like the timid ringdove 
 Cooing in the forest's covert. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 William 's like the gallant goshawk 
 Soaring through the sky at midday. 
 
 WILLIAM. 
 
 Liicy 's like the maid I dreamt once 
 Stood beside me at the altar. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 William 's like the youth I twice dreamt 
 Put the ring upon my finger. 
 
 WILLIAM. 
 
 Liicy 's like — ■ aye, by this ring, Love — 
 Liicy 's like the bride of William. 
 
 LUCY. 
 
 William 's like — by this same ring and 
 Heaven I swear it — Lucy's bridegroom. 
 
 Waisekhaus-Strasse, DRESDEN, June 12. ISbli. 
 
In the fields or on the roadside 
 Near a little country village. 
 Muttering to himself and lilting, 
 All day long a young man saunters. 
 
 Muttering, lilting, as he saunters, 
 Children point the finger at him, 
 And wise parents call him idle, 
 Crazy, good for nothing poet. 
 
 That young man sees not the village; 
 Great thoughts in his soul are harming 
 Heroes, Cesars, fame immortal — 
 That young man is Publius Maro. 
 
 Waisenhaus-Strasse, DRESDEN, June 10. 1853. 
 
 Where was I ere there was any Where? 
 
 Ere there was any What, what was 1? 
 
 When was I ere there was any When? 
 
 And how or why made i myself 
 
 Ere there was any I or How, 
 
 Or any When, Where, What or Why? 
 
 Waisknhaus-Strasse, DRESDEN, June 12. 1853. 
 
SUPREMELY BLEST. 
 
 "Six little goslings in one nest, 
 All in yellow velvet dressed, 
 AH beneath one soft warm breast, 
 All by one kind bill caressed, 
 Ave ye not supremely blest?" 
 
 "Six little goslings in one nest, 
 All in yellow velvet dressed, 
 We are not supremely blessed. 
 We will leave the soft warm breast^ 
 We will leave the parent nest. 
 And go of novelty in quest, 
 And then we'll be supremely blest." 
 
 Written while travelling from SLIGO toDROMORE WEST. CO. SLIGO 
 May 10. 1852. 
 
 LITTLE FLY. 
 
 Sip on freely, little fly; 
 I'll not harm thee; no, not 1. 
 Some are great and some are small, 
 But God is father of us all; 
 And in the parent's equal eye, 
 Man 's the brother of the fly. 
 
Sip on freely, little fly; 
 I'll not harm thee, no, not I. 
 Formed like me for joy and pain, 
 Warmed by sunshine, wet by rain, 
 Born like me, like rne to die. 
 Thou art dear to God as i ; 
 Sip on freely, little fly, 
 ['11 not harm thee; no, not J. 
 
 Writlen wliilc travelling from DROMOIIE-WEST to WESTl'ORT. 
 May. 11. 1852. 
 
 C H A T T E U I N G M IL G. 
 
 Black and while 
 Painted bright, 
 Stout of hmb, 
 Of body light. 
 Fierce in battle, 
 Swift in flight, 
 
 Called by birds 
 The robber knight. 
 
 Keen of sight, 
 It 's my delight 
 From the airy height 
 Of aspen bough. 
 Or r()cky brow, 
 To spy around 
 Where on the ground 
 For chattering py'e 
 Fit [)i'dg may lie 
 Of criist or bone, 
 
There careless thrown 
 By farm-yard Joan; 
 Or joyful mark 
 Where eg-g-s of lark 
 In meadow green, 
 Half hid, half seen, 
 Or callow thriish 
 In hawthorn biish, 
 Meg's appetite 
 Dainty invite. 
 But Meg, not rash 
 To make a dash 
 Like hawk or kite, 
 Stays appetite. 
 And hops about, 
 And makes no rout; 
 And watching sly 
 Willi perking eye, 
 Sieals to the biish 
 And dines on thrush; 
 Then siicks lark's egg, 
 llardliearled Meg! 
 And ofT to nest 
 Flies with the best 
 Old crust or bone 
 Of thriftless Joan. 
 
 Such life lead 1, 
 Blithe clu'itteriiig pye, 
 Oft wondering why 
 Man so should sigh. 
 And keep such coil, 
 And cark and moil 
 Till sweat and toil, 
 
And care to save 
 Dig deep his grave. 
 
 I envy not 
 Palace or cot; 
 The life I lead 
 On hill and mead 
 Is life indeed; 
 And, while I range 
 Round field and grange, 
 I would not change 
 For man's high state 
 Meg's happier fate. 
 
 Written while travelling from WESTPORT to CLIFDEN. May 12. 1852. 
 
 FALSEHEARTED JOAN. 
 
 In mountain dell, 
 
 Beside a well 
 
 And mossy stone, 
 
 Under a thorn 
 
 I sat forlorn, 
 
 And made my moan : — 
 
 "This world and I 
 
 Cannot agree, 
 
 No charm hath now 
 
 This world for me. 
 
 She has broke her troth, 
 
 Falsehearted Joan, 
 
 And left me here 
 
 To die alone. 
 
Here in this wild, 
 Untrodden dell, 
 Under this thorn, 
 Beside this well, 
 I'll stretch me on 
 This moss-grown stone. 
 And weep, and cry: — 
 'Falsehearted Joan.' 
 
 'Falsehearted Joan', 
 I'll weep and cry 
 'I lived for thee, 
 For thee I'll die'; 
 Write on my tomb : — 
 'He died alone, 
 Forsaken by 
 Falsehearted Joan. 
 Ye faithful swains, 
 His death deplore, 
 And never trust 
 To woman more'. 
 
 As thiis I lay. 
 And made my moan, 
 Stretched on that grey 
 And moss-grown stone, 
 I heard a light. 
 Small footstep near; 
 A kindly voice 
 Fell on my ear, 
 That sweetly said: — 
 "Why dost thou moan, 
 And who is this 
 Falsehearted Joan?" 
 
'Twas Joan herself — 
 
 My tears were stayed; 
 
 I threw my arms 
 
 About the maid: 
 
 1 cannot tell 
 
 What words we said ; 
 
 But there in thai 
 
 Untrodden dell, 
 
 Under thai thorn, 
 
 Beside that well, 
 
 As I wept on 
 
 That moss-ii^rown stone, 
 
 1 found my ()wn 
 
 Truehearted Joan. 
 
 Wriltcu while travelling on Biaiiconi's car IVoni CLIFDl^lN lu (iAL 
 WAY. MuY 13. 1852. 
 
 BE THAN K F U L. 
 
 "Be thankful"; — to a silly lamb 
 I once heard say its l)!eatiiii; dam — 
 "Be thankful thou art clad so \v;\iiik 
 And in Ihis [)ark ke])t s;'d'o from h;irm. 
 And every day sui)[)lied with (Vxxl 
 So sweet, and plenlifn!, and i^t'idd." 
 
 "Safe in this park" - thus to its d.im 
 I h('ai'd reply that silly l;'»ml» — 
 "S;ilc in this |);n'k I'm kt'pt from h.iiiii; 
 To yield man iVxxl, and m;iko him w.iiin. 
 Tod.'iy 1 h'ad an easy life. 
 TouKU'row C()me the shears and knife." 
 
 Wiillcii ill Railway ('aiiiit};c while travelling iVoiii (lALWAY to 
 )i;illJN — May 1-1. 1S52. 
 
T R U E L V E. 
 
 As arm in arm upon the shore 
 We listened to the loreakers' rckir, 
 She picked and piit into my luind 
 The fairest pebbles from the strand. 
 
 x\s through the meadow g-reen we walked. 
 And of our happy future talked, 
 She culled the flowers I loved the best, 
 And placed the nosegay in my breast. 
 
 A l<)ck she g;ive me of her hair. 
 Set round with pearl and riiby rare, 
 Xnd a cornelian signet stone, 
 Engraved with her name and my own. 
 
 For me she left father and mother. 
 For me she left sister and brother. 
 House, home, and friends she left for me, 
 With mu to live and mine to be: 
 She left them all to be mine own, 
 And ever live with me alone. 
 
 She had no joy when 1 was sad. 
 No grief had she when I was glad; 
 To make me glad was her delight, 
 Her thought by day, her dream by nig-ht; 
 When I w.is glad her eye grew bright. 
 
 To charm my spirit's gloom away, 
 She 'd sing me song or roundelay, 
 As stretched on the greensward 1 lay, 
 Or tell me tales the livelong day. 
 
She 'd tell me of the rolDber- chief, 
 And of the tearless maiden's grief, 
 And of the opal-hafted knife 
 With which she took the robber's life. 
 
 She 'd tell me of the diamond tower. 
 And of the wondrous word of power 
 To open wide its gate of brass. 
 And let the wiiite- robed figm^e pass. 
 
 Stories she 'd tell me of the East, 
 Of vizier, pacha, dervish, priest, 
 Of mosque, kiosk, and miisselman, 
 Of Al-Raschid and Kiibli Khan; 
 But still her last and sweetest tale 
 Was of the rose and nightingale. 
 
 And when she saw me pleased and g-ay 
 She 'd dance as on her bridal day, 
 Or wreathe her fingers in my hair. 
 And lilt to her guitar this air: — 
 
 "Let misers in their hoards take pleasure, 
 Seek not thou the yellow treasure, 
 Greed of gold is biit a madness. 
 Never ending care and sadness: 
 In true love 's the only gladness." 
 
 She sang, she sickened, and she died; 
 And with her last farewell she cried: — 
 "Write on my tomb no word of sadness. 
 In true love 's the only gladness." 
 
 LOWER CLAPTON. LONDON. May 20. 1852. 
 
TOM SHOEBLACK. 
 
 Your shoes, good Sir; your shoes to clean; 
 
 Such dirty shoes were never seen. 
 
 With diity shoes upon his feet 
 
 What gentleman would walk the street, 
 
 When he might have them bright and clean 
 
 For j list two half- pence of the Queen? 
 
 A penny. Sir, you'll not refuse; 
 
 One penny. Sir, for clean bright shoes. 
 
 Here, Sir; sit down: I promise you. 
 You soon shall have a ckiaii bright shoe; 
 The right foot first; yes, that will do; 
 A lovely thing 's a clean bright shoe, 
 As smooth as glass, as black jls jet: 
 Stay, Sir; this foot 's not half done yet; 
 A clean bright shoe 's a lovely thing; 
 A clean bright shoe sets off a king- 
 There, Sir, it ^s d(5ne; this sh()e is clean: 
 A brighter shoe was never seen, 
 Glossy and smooth as raven's wing; 
 A well -blacked shoe 's a lovely thing; 
 A well -blacked shoe sets off a king. 
 
 The left foot. Sir; fie, what a shoe! 
 
 One scarce can see the leather through 
 
 This miry, slimy, miiddy gliie. 
 
 Now do your work, my bristles triie, 
 
 And let us have a shining shoe; 
 
 A shining shoe 's a lovely thing; 
 
 A shining shoe sets off a king. 
 
These bristles, Sir — a better set 
 Never in one bJack-box met — 
 Are neither (|uite worn-out, nor new; 
 And every hair 's a bristle true: 
 You soon shall have a shining s]!(»e: 
 See there 's the polish corning- thruui^l 
 A shining- shoe 's a lovely thing 
 A shining shoe sets off a king 
 
 '6 
 
 My "Di'iy and Martin" 's fresh and new, 
 As black as ink, as bright as dew. 
 Fit p('»lish lor a geninian's shoe. 
 Kiib rub -a- nib, my bristles triie. 
 And let us have a shining- sh()e; 
 A shining sh(>e 's a lovely thing; 
 A shining shoe sets off a king. 
 
 Hub rub-a-riib, my work is dune: 
 
 My |)enny fee is fVurly w(')n: 
 
 ^0 Ijrighter shoe the siin shines on. 
 
 I.et wiser folk say what they will, 
 
 I'm of the one opinion still, 
 
 IJarefoot or shod, a m;in 's a man, 
 
 But blacking makes the gentlem.'tn. 
 
 1 mean no shir to smart cravat. 
 
 Or jchnmy white, or glossy h;'d, 
 
 Or small -clothes sm(M)th; but all won't do, 
 
 Unless you have a well-l)la('ke(l shoe. 
 
 A well -blacked sh()e 's a l()vely thing; 
 
 A well -blacked sink? sets ()ff a king. 
 
 And now I 've kept my ]>r(')mise true, 
 Rach foot has 'j^n\ its cUbn bright sli()e. 
 And ])()or Tom Sli()el»lack l)ids adieii: 
 
Adieii. kind Sir. and d()n't complain, 
 If dirty footways, diist, and r;un 
 Soon brini"- yon to poor Tfjni again: 
 It 's an ill wind Mows n(> one good, 
 And diist and rain arc poor Tom's ('(mxI. 
 
 KPPiMi K(»i;i<:sr; lUNsr LONDON. Mav 30. 1852. 
 
 T H K C R Y S A L 1 S. 
 
 In long loose dn'nvers. and stt)ckings without feet. 
 
 Wide flannel vest, grey shirt, and nightcap neat. 
 
 Wearied mine eyes of sights, of sounds mine ears. 
 
 Mine anxious fluttering heart of hopes and fears. 
 
 Tlie light put out. and locked my chamber door, 
 
 J laid me down uijon my Ijed once more, 
 
 To rest, to sleep, to dream, perliaps to snore; 
 
 My left cheek heavy on the pillow pressed. 
 
 My right arm crossed oldiquely on my breast, 
 
 Blanket and counterpane tucked tightly in 
 
 Round by the shoulder quite to the ear and chin. 
 
 If you had seen me in the park that day 
 
 Or at the levee or subscription play, 
 
 All bright with diamonds, all alert and g-ay. 
 
 And then been shown that shapeless heap of clothes 
 
 With scarce an air hole left for muuth and nose, 
 
 And told it was essentially the same. 
 
 The same in spirit, substance, even in name, 
 
 How you W have stared, and nibbed your eyes, and \owed 
 
 That freakish nature had at last allowed 
 
 To man the privilege of the butterfly. 
 
 To cast his figure oil', and yet not die. 
 
 To flaunt a gaudy insect ;ill the day, 
 
And drone, a senseless griib, the night away I 
 Where, even in wondrous Ovid, is there change 
 One half so true, miraculous and strange? 
 
 Written in bed. ANTWERP. June 9. 1852. 
 
 MODEL PROPOSAL OF M A R Px 1 A G E. 
 
 Dear lovely Doris, 1 admire thee more 
 Than ever man admired a maid before; 
 Thy smiles, thy dimples, and thy virtues rare. 
 Thy charms, thy graces, and thine auburn hair, 
 Each part, no less than the harmonious whole, 
 Has made a prisoner of thine Edward's soul. 
 In chains and sorrow I confess, thou art 
 Greater than Wellington or Buonapart; 
 They conquered bodies only, thou the heart. 
 Dear lovely Doris, how can words express 
 One half the amount of Edward's tenderness ! 
 How from the shades of even till dawning light 
 He dreams of thee alone the livelong night! 
 How the whole day of thee alone he thinks, 
 Whether he stands, or walks, or eats, or drinks! 
 How he cries still! — "Ah! were but Doris mine 
 In what true comfort 1 might siip or dine; 
 Not as I now do, in the dismal gloom 
 Of city coffee-house or dining-room. 
 Midst stifling smells and deafening London cries, 
 Biit in the alcove of some paradise!' 
 How from the dawn of light till shades of even 
 Thou only art his thought, his hope, his heaven! 
 Dear lovely Doris, hear thine Edward's cry , 
 One kindly look, or see thine Edward die, 
 
Die of the misery of this bachelor's life. 
 More slow, but quite as siire as cord or knife. 
 Dear lovely Doris, mine 's no idle moan; 
 No sentimental sorrow makes me groan; 
 Real and substantial are the woes 1 feel 
 At home, abroad, at morn or evening- meal. 
 At home, I sit in diisky, dingy room, 
 Where never woman's smile dispels the gloom, 
 And watch the children playing in the lane. 
 Or count the flies, that creep along the pane; 
 Or crouch beside the fire and pensive eye 
 The curling wreaths that up the chinuiey fly; 
 Or pace impatient lip and down the flfjor. 
 Between the window and the closet door, 
 Oft stopping, to inscribe my Doris' name 
 On Clipboard-door, or wall, or window -frame. 
 
 Or in the thick dust of the table trace 
 With finger-end the outline of her face; 
 
 Or to turn over a book's leaves begin; 
 
 Or from the floor pick up a headless pin; 
 And in the sofa- cover prick all shapes 
 
 Of dogs, trees, steeples, windmills, cocks and apes ; 
 
 Or, pleased with nothing, ring and ask Janette, 
 
 What is 't o'clock, and if the tea be wet; 
 
 For milk give her one halfpenny, two for bread — 
 
 Ah Doris! Doris! better far be dead. 
 
 And deep in the churchyard, than live to see 
 
 One lonely cup and saucer laid for tea. 
 
 Dear lovely Doris, tiirn not thus away; 
 
 Gods themselves hsten when poor mortals pray; 
 
 Pity 's a grace divine, even heathens say. 
 
 Let others with the poet's wondrous art 
 
 Dress up a tale, to touch the feeling heart; 
 
 My story needs no gloss; see, Doris, where 
 
My new shirt-riiffle 's got this ligly tear, 
 
 And unmatched stockings wedded folk invite 
 
 To taunt with many a joke the unman-ied wight. 
 
 Last evening, on the Mall, an urchin cried: — 
 
 "He walks a solo!" biit the urchin lied; 
 
 That moment, lost in thought, I walked with thee 
 
 Far from the Mall, upon the moon -lit lea, 
 
 And pressed thy hand, as with a roguish smile 
 
 Thou said'st: — "Dear Sir, pray help me o'er the stile." 
 
 Yes Doris, it 's a bargain; let 's agree: 
 
 I '11 help thee o'er the stile, thou 'It make my tea; 
 
 And loving man and wife we '11 ever be. 
 
 Till great-grandchildren toddle round our knee. 
 
 Written wliile walk! no from ANTWERP to LOUVAIN. Juiie 
 12. and VS. 1852. 
 
 THE p:lfin knight. 
 
 My story 's of an elfin knight. 
 
 So fiill of venom and pure spite, 
 
 That doing harm was his delight, 
 
 Both morn and noon, and day and night. 
 
 In truth, he was a rancorous wight, 
 
 To whom no thing on earth seemed rig-ht 
 
 But mildew, rot, decay, and blight; 
 
 He stripped the branch of flower and fruit, 
 
 And tore the triink up by the root, 
 
 Into the iron ate with I'ust, 
 
 And gnumd the marble rock to diist. 
 
 Still more he loved on living thing 
 
 Misery and pain and death to bring: 
 
 Bird, beast, ;uid fish he laiig-hed to see 
 
Writhing in mortal agony; 
 
 But never was his heart so glad, 
 
 As when he made man sick and sad, 
 
 Wounded him sore, or set him mad, 
 
 Robbed him of" house, and home, and friend, 
 
 And brought him to a wretched end, 
 
 To die in pain and misery 
 
 Not all at once and suddenly 
 
 (For that were downright charity) 
 
 Biit by sure step and slow degree; 
 
 He piilled his teeth out, one by one. 
 
 Plucked out his hair, and left him none; 
 
 With a thick flail -staff cudgelled him. 
 
 Till every sinew, joint, and limb 
 
 W^as black and bliie, and stifT and sore; 
 
 And, to torment him more and more, 
 
 Sealed up his ears, scooped out his eyes, 
 
 And ciit him down to half his size; 
 
 Then pitched him, gasping hard for breath. 
 
 Into the gaping jaws of Death. 
 
 Man siifTered sore, and siifTered long, 
 
 But saw no author of his wrong; 
 
 Felt every blow, but saw no arm, 
 
 No lifted hand to do the harm. 
 
 Invisible as mountain wind, 
 
 The caitiff came his prey behind. 
 
 And kicked and ciifTed him hard and sore; 
 
 Then came, and stood his prey before, 
 
 And kicked and ciifTed him more and more. 
 
 Poor man lamented, and in vain 
 
 Cursed the foul author of his pain, 
 
 And watched by day, and watched by night, 
 
 To catch of his fell foe a sight. 
 
At last with pain and wateliing- worn, 
 
 And of his fell foe laughed to scorn: — 
 
 "A happy thought" ('twas thiis he said) 
 
 "Has come at once into my liead; 
 
 Let 's see, if 1 can 't make a bell, 
 
 That shall my enemy's commg- tell." 
 
 So said, so done; a smith by trade, 
 
 Has soon a pair of slippers made, 
 
 And on each slipper fastened woHl 
 
 A strong- steel clasp and silver bell. 
 
 The slippers laid upon the floor, 
 
 The smith 's to bed and barred the door; — 
 
 " If he comes near the bed," says he. 
 
 "The slipper bells will waken me." 
 
 He said, and to the wall turned round, 
 
 And fell asleep, l)Oth fast and sound. 
 
 How long' he slept 1 cannot tell. 
 
 When tinkle tinkle went the bell; 
 
 The smith awoke, and cried: — "What ho! 
 
 A light, a lig-ht — I 've caught the foe.'" 
 
 "Not quite so fast, good smith", quoth he; 
 
 "You 've lost your slippers, not caught me; 
 
 1 '11 walk henceforth with slippers neat 
 
 And silver bells upon my feet. 
 
 That foolish man may surely know^ 
 
 Both, when I come, and when [ g-6. 
 
 And whether 1 move fast or slow." 
 
 So saying he dealt such heavy blow, 
 
 As made the smith cry:— "Woe! more woe!" 
 
 "More woe indeed", the knight replied. 
 
 And sti-iick him (\n the other side: 
 
 "Think'st thou, because thy door is barred, 
 
 My st.'ilwart arm will strike less hard? 
 
 What th(')ugh thy tinkling- silver })ell 
 
An enemy's approach may tell, 
 And whetlier he move swift or slow, 
 Think'st thou 'twill serve to ward the blow, 
 Dealt on thee by thine unseen foe?" 
 No word the elfin knight said more, 
 But, viewless, through the well barred door 
 Passed out as he passed in before. 
 And down the stair into the street, 
 The silver bells upon his feet. 
 
 Full many a year and day has sped, 
 
 Since the g-reen tiirf closed o'er the head 
 
 Of the brave smith, that made the bells 
 
 Of which my truthful story tells; 
 
 Yet 6ft by day, and 6ft by night 
 
 1 hear the tread of the elfin knight, 
 
 And tremble at his slippers' sound, 
 
 From house to house, as he takes liis round. 
 
 In vain like the brave smith of y6re 
 
 1 bolt and bar my chamber d6or. 
 
 The elfm f6ot is 6n the stair, 
 
 The elhn knight, viewless as air, 
 
 Passes through barred and b6lted door, 
 
 Cr6sses with measured step the fl6or, 
 
 And gripes me hard, and hits me s6re. 
 
 "T6rment me n6t" in vain 1 cry; 
 
 "Torment me n6t, but let me die." 
 
 He says no word, but more and more 
 
 Pinches and ciifrs me than before. 
 
 My tale's truth let these gashes speak, 
 
 These zigzags 6n my 6nce smooth cheek, 
 
 This sallow skin once s6l't and fair. 
 
 This sunken eye. these temples bare 
 
 Where once so seemly curled the hair. 
 
 lis 
 
If , in the pride of strength and youth, 
 Thou doubtest still my story's triith, 
 And hkenest the elfin kni§-ht 
 To some unreal and airy sprite, 
 Eng-endered in the brain at night, 
 When Sense lies dead and Reason sleeps. 
 And no more watch o'er Fancy keeps; 
 Listen! "It is the steeple bell", 
 Listen! "It is the funeral knell", 
 Listen! what says that steeple bell? 
 Listen! what says that funeral knell? 
 "He has told his story true and well." 
 
 Begun June lA^^ 1852 wlicn walking from LOUVAIN to. 
 TTRLEMONT. Finished at WEMS June 2P'- 
 
 WHEN 1 WAS A BOY. 
 
 When I was a boy, how merrily 
 1 sported about beneath the great h'ce, 
 That overshadowed my fathei'^s cot! 
 Since then I 've not seen so cozy a spot. 
 
 Oh, how my heart bounded, and danced with Joy! 
 My father has bi'()Uglit me a bran-new toy, 
 A long' ashen stick with a horse's head; 
 Milk-white is the mane, and the bridle is red. 
 
 I straddled my sti^ed, and with crick crack and shout, 
 And whoop -wlKJop and hurrah I cantered about, 
 Upstairs and (h)wiistaijs, and indoors and out; 
 No Queen's -Own dragxion evei- made such a rout. 
 
But iiu'iny a loii^- year has come and fled, 
 Since the red bridle broke, and the horse lay dead; 
 My thin sandy hair has grown thick and brown, 
 And my upper lip 's hid by a soft velvet down. 
 
 "1 '11 buy me a real, living- horse", I cried, 
 "And canter and gallop the country wide" — 
 1 bought me a real horse, and galloped about; 
 Was never a Nimrod that made such a rout. 
 
 About as I galloped the country wide. 
 By the side of a well a young maiden 1 spied; 
 Her cheeks were like roses, her skin soft and fair. 
 Light blue were her eyes, long and flaxen her hair. 
 
 "Come with me, sweet maiden" I stopped and cried; 
 "Come with me, sweet maiden, and be my bride; 
 Leave down thy pail there, and get dp beside me; 
 And a kind, loving husband I '11 be to thee." 
 
 She left down her pail, and sprang lip by my side; — 
 "I '11 go with thee, young man, and 1 '11 be thy bride; 
 A kind, loving husband thou 'It be to me. 
 And I '11 be for ever a triie wife to thee." 
 
 "I never was happy till now", 1 cried, 
 
 As I kissed the soft cheek of my blooming bride; 
 
 And away we cantered, and galloped about; 
 
 No new Darby and Joan ever made such a rout. 
 
 But many a long year has come and fled. 
 Since the truest of all true wives lay dead, 
 And a widower lone 1 wander about, 
 Never more in this world to make such a rout. 
 
 ^4 
 
In dark dismal weeds I wander about, 
 
 Upstairs and downstairs, and indoors and out; 
 
 No pleasant thought now ever enters my head; 
 
 My pleasant tlioug-hts all with my young" days are fled. 
 
 When I see a pair happy, and smiling-, and gay, 
 I tiirn away from them, and to myself say: — 
 "Sport on, happy insects, while sport on ye may; 
 Black and damp falls the night on the sunniest day." 
 
 When I hear the great bass and the clarionet sound. 
 And the light tripping footsteps' elastic rebound, 
 1 think to myself, how these same tripping feet 
 Will soon lie stifT and stark in the long winding- sheet. 
 
 Amidst chaplets of roses, by chandelier light. 
 
 When I see the feast spread, and the wine circling- bright, 
 
 I think, how soon round every sightless eyeball 
 
 The maggot of flesh-fly, and beetle will cniwl. 
 
 But many a long year has come and fled. 
 Since in black weeds I wandered, and wept o'er the dead; 
 Time, that 's able the name on the tomb to efface, 
 Begins from my heart the loved form to erase. 
 
 I can see a bride smile, without thinking of Her; 
 I can hear a bride sing-, yet not feel my heart stir; 
 Alone though I wander, I never complain ; 
 To all joy if I 'm dead, 1 am dead to all pain. 
 
 My tears are dried lip, and my s6ri"0ws are past; 
 Sweet Oblivion, 1 see thee approaching at last; 
 Come! pillow my head on thy care -soothing l)reast, 
 And close my tired eyelids, and hill me to rest. 
 
 Written wIkmi walking IVoni T,(.)[\ KKiNK/, in liKI/ilUM to 
 r-OSHEIM ill PRUSSIA. .luiio IS"' to .lime 22"'i 1852. 
 
MIGHT AND RIGHT. 
 
 "Mighty Sir Wind, 
 Pray, be so kind. 
 Pass civilly, 
 And harm not me, 
 Who never yet 
 Did harm to thee." 
 
 "Sturdy Sir Tree, 
 Lecture not me; 
 I fain would be 
 Civil to thee. 
 But in my way 
 I find thee still. 
 Stopping my path 
 Across this hill." 
 
 "This hill is mine, 
 As i opine; 
 For many a year 
 My fathers lived 
 Free burghers here; 
 i am their heir, 
 And will not share 
 My birthright fair 
 With son of earth, 
 Or son of air; 
 So make no rout, 
 But go about. 
 And touch not me. 
 An independant 
 Forest tree." 
 
"Of son of earth 
 Or son of air, 
 1 little know, 
 And little care; 
 But this I know, 
 I '11 have my will, 
 And g-o the short way 
 Cross the hill." 
 
 "Not so, not so, 
 Unruly Wind ; 
 Some other passage 
 Please to find ; 
 There on the left 
 The path stands clear; 
 No business hast thou 
 To pass here. 
 Strong- though thou art 
 1 'm fain to expect 
 Thou 'It shew the law 
 Its diie respect." 
 
 "1 were indeed 
 A silly wight, 
 To wait ui)6n 
 The law for right, 
 When in this arm 
 1 have the JVlight, 
 That makes alone 
 Both Law and Right." 
 
 No more words passed ; 
 Sir Tree stood fast; 
 On came Sir Blast, 
 
Like paynim knight, 
 Fiirious in fight, 
 With push and criish 
 And headlong riish; 
 Or like the giish 
 Of flood let loose 
 Through milldam sliiice. 
 Stout though he be, 
 What can Sir Tree 
 Against a shock, 
 Would make a rock 
 Or castle wall 
 Totter and fall? 
 
 Yield he will not, 
 Or from the spot 
 Retreat one inch. 
 Or backward flinch; 
 Or step aside. 
 The hill though wide, 
 One single stride, 
 To let Sir Blast 
 Rush harmless past. 
 
 Leonidas 
 In Pyiae's pass, 
 As stories tell, 
 Firm against Might 
 Stood for the Right, 
 And nobly fell: 
 And so fell he, 
 Sturdy Sir Tree; 
 And so will all 
 Those worthies fall, 
 
Whoe'er they be, 
 That for the Right 
 Strive against Might 
 And tyranny. 
 
 Written while walking in the EIFEL between LOSHELM and 
 BITBURG, June 23 and 24. 1852. 
 
 Four knights there are far in the East, 
 
 Where wonders have not yet quite ceased, 
 
 All brothers, and about one size, 
 
 Not one has either ears or eyes. 
 
 Or mouth, or nose, or feet, or hands, 
 
 Yet to obey their Lord's commands, 
 
 More ready they than many a knight 
 
 W^ith perfect limbs, hearing, and sight. 
 
 Each one to help him has a band 
 
 Of four knights more at his command. 
 
 Sixteen subalterns, leaders four, 
 
 The brotherhood 's in all a score; 
 
 A score of siich preux cavaliers 
 
 As rarely, even in those bright years, 
 
 When history was still a fable. 
 
 Together met around one table. 
 
 In yellow leather all are cased, 
 
 A belt some wear about the waist, 
 
 Of gold, studded with such bright gems 
 
 As shine in Eastern diadems. 
 
 Not for base hicre and i-ewaiTl 
 Attend these knights upon their L()rd ; 
 To attend upon him day and night, 
 Itself their joy is and delight. 
 
So soon as in the morning- red 
 His r(>yal Highness leaves his bed, 
 Two chief knights and siil)alterns eight 
 With clothes and l^reakfast on him wait; 
 His iVice they wash, and comb his head, 
 Feed him with butter, eggs, and bread, 
 Carry his tea -cup to his lips, 
 And hold it steady while he sips. 
 Two chiefs and eight subalterns more 
 Crouch round his footstool on the floor, 
 Ready his Mightiness to bear 
 Upon their shoulders any where, 
 indoors or out, or high or low, 
 Backward or forward, quick or sl(')w; 
 Like steam-engines obedient still 
 To the driver's sovereign will. 
 
 If sad their Lord, these knights divide 
 
 Into two bands, ten on each side; 
 
 And while one band a merry tiine 
 
 On fiddle plays or loud bassoon. 
 
 The other beats time to the measure, 
 
 ()r, to afford him livelier pleasure, 
 
 Takes him, and to the music's sound 
 
 Whirls him the chalked floor round and round. 
 
 Never from their Sovereign's side, 
 In life or death, these knights divide; 
 Through ill, through weal, with him they go; 
 His joy 's their joy, his woe 's their woe; 
 Into the w^orld with him they came 
 On the same day, and on the same 
 Day that he dies have vowed to die, 
 And with him in the same tomb lie. 
 
 ^^ 
 
Say ye, that wiser are than 1, 
 Where under all our Western sky, 
 On Heathen or on Christian g-round, 
 Such twenty knig-hts are to be found? 
 
 Written while confined to bed with a sore toe , in BITBURG 
 RHENISH PRUSSIA, June 25 and 26. 1852. 
 
 SWEET AIR. 
 
 A cripple slow. 
 On festered toe 
 Limping- 1 go, 
 And cry "Woe! woe! 
 
 The Grecian so, 
 As schoolboys know, 
 In Lemnos' isle, 
 Shouted ere while 
 To rock and sea 
 His misery. 
 
 Like him to thee. 
 Kind, gentle Sea, 
 For help I fly, 
 And shout and cry: - 
 "Woe! woe is me! 
 Ah misery ! 
 Woe! woe is me! 
 Ah misery!" 
 
 Kind, gentle Stia, 
 Ah! pity me; 
 
Quick with thy balm, 
 My pains to calm. 
 Beneath thy waves, 
 In coral caves, 
 Grows there no weed, 
 Whose potent seed. 
 These pang-s may hill, 
 These fires may diill? 
 No anodyne, 
 Of power divine 
 The sense to steep 
 In sldmber deep? 
 
 Fierce, raging- Sea, 
 Thou hear'st not me; 
 Ah misery! 
 Woe, woe, is me! 
 Ah misery! 
 
 Soft, tender Stone, 
 Hear thou my moan ; 
 Thy veins explore 
 For some fine ore; 
 Some Ammonite's 
 Or Crysolite's 
 Benignant spar. 
 Glittering- afar 
 With power to cure 
 Speedy and siire. 
 in thy deep mines. 
 Where never shines 
 Day's cheerful light, 
 But brooding Night 
 In ebon cells 
 
For ever dwells, 
 Search till thou find 
 Some loadstone kind, 
 Some precious jet 
 For amulet, 
 By mystic law 
 Empowered to draw 
 Pain's viper fang-s, 
 And ease these pang-s. 
 From clear, cold spring-, 
 Elixir bring-. 
 Or amber drop, 
 Of power to stop 
 This throb, this throe. 
 This burning- glow. 
 
 Vain, vain, my moan ; 
 Idle, my groan ; 
 Thou hear'st me not, 
 Hardhearted stone; 
 Fixed to the spot. 
 Thou turn'st deaf ear. 
 And hastenest not 
 From deep, cold spring. 
 Or mine, to bring- 
 Elixir clear. 
 Or amber drop, 
 Or amulet 
 Of precious jet, 
 Potent to stop 
 This throb, this throe, 
 This fiery glow; 
 Woe! woe! ah, woe! 
 
Come, i5^entle Wind; 
 Be thou more kind; 
 Blow, softly blow, 
 And cool this g:l6w. 
 or Procris' spouse 
 Thou heard'st the vows, 
 When at hig^h noon, 
 Alas, too soon! 
 (Ye Gods, why had 
 That morn a noon?) 
 In the deep shade 
 or myrtles liiid, 
 
 His longing- arms 
 
 Extended wide 
 On either side. 
 
 Gasping', he cried: — 
 
 'Aiira, sweet Aiira, 
 
 Hither hie, 
 
 For thee 1 pant, 
 
 For thee I die!' 
 
 Thou heard'st his prayer; 
 
 Hear mine, sweet Air; 
 
 Hither repair. 
 
 And softly blow. 
 
 And cool this g-low, 
 
 This heat assuage, 
 
 This fiery rage. 
 
 Ah, no! ah, no! 
 Woe! woe! more woe! 
 A deeper, redder, 
 Fiercer glow! 
 Whose breath is that 
 
 Fanning the fire? 
 
Wliosc liaiid b.eaps fiiel 
 High and higiier? 
 Sirocco hot, 
 1 called thee not; 
 Plague -spot and d('ntli 
 Are in thy breath; 
 From thy crisp hair 
 Red meteors flare; 
 Shrivelled and di'y 
 Thy bloodshot eye, 
 And never yet 
 By kind tear wet. 
 Hence to thine own 
 Dry smidy zone, 
 Where crocodile 
 Infests the Nile, 
 And rattlesnake 
 Liirks in the brake; 
 Hence with thy breath 
 Of ph'igiie and death; 
 And thou, sweet Air, 
 Hither repair; 
 Air, Air, sweet Air, 
 Hither repair. 
 
 Nymph debonnaire. 
 And fresh and fair, 
 Elastic, gay. 
 And yonng alway, 
 Air, Air, sweet Air, 
 Hither repair. 
 
 Free nnUmtain- child, 
 Biioyant and wild, 
 
Yet meek and mild, 
 Air, Air, sweet Air, 
 Hither repair. 
 
 From ]3reezy hill 
 Where, never still. 
 Whirs tall windmill; 
 From whispering: shade 
 Of colonnade 
 Or forest g-lade; 
 From rippling side 
 Of river wide, 
 From waving- sedge 
 On blue lake's edge, 
 Air, Air, sweet Air, 
 Hither repair. 
 
 Come with pcrfiimc 
 
 Of apple bloom. 
 
 And mignionette 
 
 W'ith fresh showers wet. 
 
 And blackeyed bean, 
 
 Sweet odours' Queen, 
 
 And lily white. 
 
 Lover's delight, 
 
 And hawthorn gay 
 
 In early May, 
 
 And hay new -mown. 
 
 And r(3se just blown; 
 
 Come, come, sweet Air, 
 
 Hither repair. 
 
 Sweet Air, sweet Air. 
 
 With miisic come 
 Of wild bee's hum, 
 
 y2 
 
Or lark's shrill song-, 
 
 Never too long; 
 
 Or liquid note 
 
 From toad's smooth throat. 
 
 Or evening plaint 
 
 Of nightingale, 
 
 Or chiick- chuck faint 
 
 Of amorous quail; 
 
 Or sweeter sound 
 
 Of harp or flute. 
 
 Or of thine own 
 
 Eolian liite, 
 
 Or rustling leaves, 
 
 Or waterfall; 
 
 Or man's deep voice 
 
 Sweetest of all; 
 
 Come, come, sweet x\ir; 
 
 Hither repair. 
 
 Sweet Air, sweet Air. 
 
 Yes, yes, sweet Air, 
 I feel thee there, 
 An angel meek, 
 Kissing my cheek, 
 And in my hair 
 Weaving- thy dewy 
 Fingers bare. 
 
 Yes, yes, bless'd Air, 
 Thou hear'st my prayer, 
 And hoverest there, 
 Charming my care, 
 Stilling this throe, 
 Cooling this glow, 
 
No more I cry, 
 
 "Woe! woe! ah, woe!" 
 
 Pain -soothing- Air, 
 All day stay there; 
 Stay there all day, 
 The livelong day, 
 And sport and pkiy, 
 Angelic meek, 
 Kiss my flushed cheek. 
 And in my hair 
 Weave thy lank fingers 
 Cool and bare; 
 And when at night 
 Thou tak'st thy flight. 
 To mountain height. 
 Or whispering shade 
 Of colonnade 
 Or forest glade, 
 Or ripphng side 
 Of river wide, 
 Or waving sedge 
 On blue lake's edge. 
 Leave in thy stead 
 To watch my head, 
 And guardian stand 
 About my bed, 
 Thy playmate mild. 
 Health's placid child, 
 Delicious Sleep; 
 Till at first peep 
 Of morninjj light 
 Thou com'st again, 
 Blithe - hearted sprite, 
 
And bring-'st me fresh, 
 New-born delight; 
 An lirn of odours 
 Shak'st around, 
 And steep'st mine cars 
 In the full sfjund 
 Of the harmonious 
 Matin song, 
 
 "With which all Nature's 
 Creatures throng 
 Before the footstool 
 Of their Queen, 
 Who has another 
 Sunrise seen. 
 
 Written while confined to bed by inflaniuuUion of tlie toe. 
 BJTHUlia, in RIIENISli PRUSSIA, June 20. to July 1. 1852. 
 
 T H E P E T. 
 
 A Poet is a spider, and his line, 
 
 As any cobweb's diilicate and fine, 
 
 Spiin into stanzas, in a C()rner lies, 
 
 And gathers diist and bkiemold, moths and Hies. 
 
 A P()ct is a maker of fine lace, 
 
 Brussels, Valenciennes, or Pays de Waes: 
 
 Upon the cvishion of his brain all d;)y 
 
 And h;ilf the m'ght, the twirling bobbins play; 
 
 From i)in to pin in endless dance tliey go, 
 
 Cross -hands and Queue- de- chat, and D6s-a-d()s 
 
Tiini at the sides, and set, and down tlie iiiiildle, 
 I'n as good time as if they heard the fiddle. 
 
 A Poet is a pastry-cook, and bakes 
 
 In his brain's oven, jidikUngs, tdurts and cakes; 
 
 Fancy 's his miller, tlKuight his Ijolted flour. 
 
 Good nature is his sweet, and ill his sour; 
 
 Wit his fine salt, humour his ratafie; 
 
 Foi' his short-cake he must have irony. 
 
 I^lain truth 's his batter, which he 's furced to thin 
 
 Witli many a well-meant lie — forgive the sin — 
 
 Else the weak stomach it were siire to cloy. 
 
 And with fierce colic pains the bowels annoy. 
 
 Your Poet's tarts of epigrams are made, 
 
 Of elegies his orange marmalade, 
 
 Sonnets and songs his bj'irnbracks are and biins. 
 
 And ponderous epics are his sallelons. 
 
 Wide o'er the world the reputation flies 
 
 Of his I'omantic currant and rhubarb pies; 
 
 None skilled like him to beat up human vice 
 
 And human folly into pancake nice 
 
 Which he calls satyr, delicatest treat 
 
 W^here wholesome bitter 's hid in luscious sweet. 
 
 Taught by ex])erience dire how weary slow 
 
 Works brewer's barm to I'uise a l^uet's dough. 
 
 When pressed for lime he uses rant instead. 
 
 And finds it answer wondrous well, 'tis said. 
 
 Where vulgar cooks throw bits of cassia in, 
 
 Or laurel leaves, or orange- paring thin. 
 
 Or pinch of grated nutmeg, or a squeeze 
 
 Of lemon juice, men's various tastes to please, 
 
 Our Poet lises for the selfsame end 
 
 The nobler gifts the liberal Miises send: 
 
 V* 
 
Figures of speech and tropes and similes, 
 
 He knows, are siire the learned taste to please; 
 
 But simpler hearts by simpler arts are won, 
 
 Broad innuendo, farce, and jolly piin. 
 
 So every time he sets about to bake, 
 
 Whether it pudding be or pie or cake, 
 
 The seasoning- is the thing that first demands 
 
 The thoughtful head, and well -performing hands; 
 
 An error here and all his labour 's lost; 
 
 Time, fire and sweat, and the materials' cost; 
 
 This last, some say however, is but small 
 
 To the poetic cook, or none at all. 
 
 But be that as it will, one thing is siire, 
 
 His pudding, once ill- seasoned, 's past all cure: 
 
 Not all the streams of Helicon's sacred hill. 
 
 Not all the dews Parnassus' tops distil, 
 
 Of Byron's puddings could abate the stench, 
 
 Of Byron's pies the sulphurous odour quench: 
 
 Not even Apollo's self with all his Nine, 
 
 Gods though they be, and every hair divine. 
 
 Could give to wishy-washy Wordsworth's dough 
 
 One smack, by which the uninformed might know 
 
 That 'twas real piecrust baked in poet's brain, 
 
 And not shoemaker's paste from Golden Lane. 
 
 Ye poets all and pastry-cooks attend 
 
 The parting counsel of your common friend. 
 
 In cooking poetry and cooking pies. 
 
 The riile 's the same and in small compass lies; 
 
 Never on grains and half grains peddling stand, 
 
 Throw largely in, God loves a liberal hand. 
 
 Let no bold spirit to the praise aspire 
 
 Of mastership of pudding -pan or lyre. 
 
 So long as in his heart's core liirks one spice 
 
 Of parsimony's mean and odious vice. 
 
Ciirscd be the cook, that first with frugal care 
 
 Cut raisins into sixths, good friiit to spare, 
 
 And in his dough one sixth here dropped, one there; 
 
 Of Milestone Piidding whence the soubriquet 
 
 To him and to his heirs down to this day; 
 
 And cursed the poet, who with one poor thought 
 
 Ciit into sixths, the first dull Sonnet wrought. 
 
 Let drop a sixth in every second line, 
 
 Then clapped his hands and called his work divine. 
 
 BITBURG, ill RHENISH PRUSSIA, July 6. 1852. 
 
 DIRGE 
 
 FOR THE XIII. DEC. MDCCCLII. 
 
 The turret's awful voice cries — One. 
 Another hour its work has done, 
 And flown away viewless as air, 
 Where to be found again? Ah! where? 
 Six times nine years have rolled away, 
 Since at this hour, on this same day, 
 A helpless new-born babe I lay, 
 In a fond mother's arms caressed. 
 Lulled by a mother's voice to rest. 
 And nourished at a mother's breast. 
 
 The turret's awful voice cries — Two. 
 How swift life's sands an hour run through 
 Five times five years have o'er me sped, 
 Since in my arms my child lay dead, 
 Jiist at this hour released from pain, 
 My firstborn child, my Mary Jane; 
 
 y* 
 
A painful breath four months she drew; 
 Twas all of this sad world she knew. 
 
 The turret's awful voice cries — Three. 
 'Learn what thou art,' it says, 'from me: 
 A piilse, a sound, a moment's chime, 
 A ripple on the flood of time.' 
 
 It thrills me to the bosom's core 
 To hear that awful voice cry — l^'()iiR. 
 The same its cry when Ballitore 
 Echoed along- its hillside hoar 
 My second infant's funeral knell, 
 And sad and slow my teardrops fell 
 On my dead Anna Isabel. 
 
 The turret's awful voice cries — Five. 
 
 Ah, heartless son! that couldst survive 
 
 The closing- in eternal night 
 
 Of those kind eyes, that poured their light, 
 
 Never biit with new delight, 
 
 On thee, a mother's hope and joy. 
 
 Her firstborn child, her liest loved boy. 
 
 Heavy and slow seven years have passed, 
 
 Since 1 beheld her breathe her last; 
 
 Since in the room her father died, 
 
 Her weeping children at her side, 
 
 She meekly whis[)ered: — "It is death" — 
 
 And blessed us with her parting breath. 
 
 Seventy six years had o'er her rolled. 
 
 Yet wli() liad called my mother old? 
 
 So clear her v()ice, so bright her eye, 
 
 Her step so full of dignity. 
 
 And Oh! her heart as warm as ever, 
 
And toward lier loved ones altered never. 
 We laid her cased in pitch beside 
 Him, that in ycnith called Kate his bride, 
 The mother of his children five, 
 Queen -bee of our domestic hive. 
 Robert and Kate, six times six years, 
 Ye shared each other's hopes and fears. 
 Each other's joys, each other's tears. 
 Your hopes, fears, joys, and tears all past. 
 Rest, Kate and Robert, rest at last. 
 In your blessing- children blest. 
 Side by side for ever rest. 
 
 Six — is the turret's awful cry. 
 Warning- all men that all must die, 
 Leave the sweet air and life and light, 
 And lie down in eternal night; 
 But me more than the rest that cry 
 Warns that all who live must die. 
 For such the cry I heard that night 
 From Arco tower, wiien my delight, 
 My Ann Jane left me here to mourn, 
 And went the road wdience none return. 
 Nine days and nights I watched her bed, 
 On the tenth day at eve she said: — 
 "I die, dear James, and am content; 
 Twenty three years with thee Fve spent, 
 A happy bride, mother, and wife. 
 The happiest of my years of life: 
 Live, and ))e luippy, and sometimes 
 Think, when thou hear'st the turret's chimes. 
 Of her, who with thee hears them now 
 For the last time, and Oh! may'st thou, 
 When they ring forth thine hour to die, 
 
 ye 
 
Be happy and resig-ned as I." 
 
 She said, and paused; then lang-uidly 
 
 Her eyes uplifting-, gazed at me 
 
 A moment's space; then drooped her head, 
 
 And in a tremulous whisper said: — 
 
 "And if thou ever chance to wed, 
 
 All blessings fall upon the head 
 
 Of thy new bride, and may'st thou be 
 
 Happy with her as once with me. 
 
 And now all 's done, but to resign 
 
 Into the hands that made it mine 
 
 This ring, to keep while thou hast breath, 
 
 And give, when strikes thine hour of death, 
 
 To our dear child , our Katharine, 
 
 Memorial of thy love and mine." 
 
 Faltering she said, and on her che>,k, 
 
 While she continued yet to speak, 
 
 While from her hand the ring she drew, 
 
 Settled death's pale and ashy hiie, 
 
 And her extended hand fell cold, 
 
 The ring upon the pavement rolled. 
 
 And Ann Jane is — a tale that 's told. 
 
 Where Almonds scatter their pcrl'ume, 
 
 And Peaches shed their early bloom, 
 
 Within the sound of Sarca's wave 
 
 We laid her in her lonely grave, 
 
 Till bigotry should cease to rave; 
 
 For Arco's bigots, to the shame 
 
 Of ;ill who bear the Christian's name, 
 
 Against her closed their cluirchyard gate; 
 
 Ah! if thou hadst but heard them lu-ate 
 
 Of faith, and creed, luid heresy, 
 
 And liow no c6ri)se should biiried l)e 
 
 In faithful corpses' company, 
 
That had not, ere it died, confessed 
 
 To the same credence as the rest. 
 
 Twice thirty days we visited 
 
 On Sarca's side her lonely bed, 
 
 And by it on the green sward lay, 
 
 And wept the mournful hours away; 
 
 But when the Peach its bloom had shed, 
 
 And April's latest days were sped, 
 
 And petty Arco's bigotry 
 
 Began to ramp less furiously. 
 
 We come with spades at dead of night, 
 
 And with the lantern's flickering light. 
 
 And corpse and coffin from the clay 
 
 Raise silently, and bear away 
 
 To where on lonely Ceole's hill 
 
 Gaped the tile burner's blazing kiln. 
 
 Two hours before the rising siin. 
 
 The heat intense its work has done, 
 
 And with the relics in an lirn, 
 
 Safe to our lodgings we return. 
 
 Speedy and short our last adieu 
 
 To Arco and its zealot crew. 
 
 Forgive them heaven; and if their creed 
 
 The only triie one be indeed. 
 
 Teach them the way its triith to prove 
 
 By deeds, not of ill will, but love. 
 
 Seven — is the turret's awful cry; 
 
 Lonely widower why not die? 
 
 Why live where others smile to sigh, 
 
 And mourn thy days of joy gone by? 
 
 A widower, biit not lonely, 1, 
 
 So pleasant is my company: 
 
 A brother and dear sisters three 
 
 yT 
 
People this wilderness for me, 
 And my loved child, my Katharine, 
 If e'er to sadness 1 incline, 
 Bids me for her dear sake cheer. 
 And kisses from my lids the tear. 
 
 The turret's awful voice cries — Eigfit. 
 
 Early let it come or late, 
 
 Calm and contented I await, 
 
 The arrival of the appointed date, 
 
 Last limit of my h()pes and fears, 
 
 And all my sad or joyful years. 
 
 Nine — is the turret's awful cry: 
 Katharine, my child, thou too must die; 
 And Oh! when 1 think (hi 't 1 sigh, 
 Perhaps without one kind hand nigh, 
 Thy lips to wet, or close thine eye. 
 Even while thy piilse of life beats high. 
 And far off yet thine h()ur to die, 
 Katharine, my child, let not thine eye 
 Too fondly rest on vanity; 
 Love not too miich this world of strife; 
 At best a doubtful boon is life: 
 And when at last thine hour draws nigh, 
 Heir of thy mother's energy, 
 Away from life thy closing eye 
 Tiirn, and without a single sigh, 
 Die, as thou saw'st thy mother die: 
 Remembering well that death 's the cl()sc 
 Not of joys (inly, biit of w()cs. 
 
 The turret's awful \6icc cries — Ten. 
 Wh() would live ()'er his h()urs again ? 
 
Again the unequal contest wage 
 
 With pain and sickness, grief and age; 
 
 See, one by one, his pleasures fly, 
 
 See, one by one, his loved ones die. 
 
 See Vice triumphant, Virtue poor, 
 
 The proud man's scofTs and scorns endure. 
 
 And in the antechamber wait. 
 
 Swelling the pageant of the great; 
 
 Writhe under wrongs unmerited. 
 
 And to the tyrant bow the head; 
 
 Or for sorrows not his own 
 
 Heave the sympathetic groan, 
 
 And for griefs he cannot heal 
 
 Unavailing anguish feel; 
 
 Who is he, so fond of pain, 
 
 That would live (Ver his hours again? 
 
 Eleven — 's the turret's awful cry: 
 
 To count my sorrows let me try; 
 
 False friends, vain hopes, declining age; 
 
 ! lay me in some hermitage, 
 
 Far from the W(5rld's discordant jars. 
 
 Beyond its envies, feiids, and wars; 
 
 Beyond the bigot sectaries' reach, 
 
 Wlio, when they ought to practise, preach. 
 
 There on the dial I'll fix mine eye, 
 
 And count the hours as they go by; 
 
 One, tw(), three, four, five, six, and seven; 
 
 Followed by eight, nine, ten, eleven; 
 
 The hours shall be my homilies, 
 
 On every hour I'll moralise, 
 
 And to the heart a lesson read 
 
 Far triier than the sectary's creed. 
 
 y« 
 
Twelve — is the turret's awful cry: 
 
 The midnight moon is riding high, 
 
 1 hear the fitful night -breeze sigh, 
 
 I hear the moping owlet cry; 
 
 Visions of the days gone by 
 
 Flit before my half- closed eye; 
 
 With my new -betrothed I rove, 
 
 In the whispering aspen grove, 
 
 And our talk is all of love; 
 
 My right arm 's clasped about her waist, 
 
 Her left arm 's on my shoulder placed; 
 
 But whence that shriek, that sudden start? 
 
 Why that convulsive beat of heart? 
 
 My love, my life, what dost thou fear? 
 
 Come to my bosom, come more near; 
 
 Good God of heaven, what clasp I here? 
 
 A winding sheet wrapped round dry bones; 
 
 And then I stumble on tomb -stones; 
 
 And fall into a new-made grave; 
 
 Chinless skulls its bottom pave; 
 
 Strings of teeth festoon its sides; 
 
 Whose the beck'ning hand that guides 
 
 Through the charnel-house my way? 
 
 " Make haste, my James, why dost thou stay ? 
 
 Tomorrow is our wedding day; 
 
 Hear'st not the turret clock strike One? 
 
 Put this ring thy finger on; 
 
 Hast forgot ' Auf ewig dein^ 
 
 Thine I am and thou art mine; 
 
 Come, my James, and let us sing 
 
 The scroll upon our wedding ring; 
 
 Thine I am, and thou art mine; 
 
 Come let's sing ' Auf ewig dein. ' 
 
Haste, my James, and let 's away, 
 
 Tomorrow is our wedding day." 
 
 I woke, and I was all alone; 
 
 The moon in at the window shone; 
 
 I read the scroll upon the ring, 
 
 But none was there the scroll to sing; 
 
 And as I sat there all alone, 
 
 The turret's awful voice cried — One. 
 
 Written wliile travelling on foot between MILAN and BOTZEN 
 from Sept. 22"^ to Oct. 1"' 1852. 
 
 (i:rttucrfie& 
 
 fiir ben 13. 3) cc ember 1852. 
 
 Dr. ^mts ^enri) 
 
 13. Carnm. 
 
 Wit crnj^er (gtimme ruft'a i>om 2;^urme: itiml 
 ^odj etnc Stunbe ijat iijv 23cr! i^orfh*ad;t 
 Unb [ft entflo^'n, unftcf)t6ar \vk bie 2uft; 
 2Ber iDeiJ, a^ , tiHx , \v4 man fte ipieber fanbe? 
 ®ed)Smal neun ^aijx<i ftnb ba(;tn geroUt, 
 (2eit i^ an btefem Jag, urn btefe @tunbe, 
 ^itt ^l(ffo3 neugetor'neS ^ndtlein, lag, 
 SSon einer Ttnttn 2tcl^e0arm iimfd^rungen, 
 3u diuif geluftt i^ou eincr ^JlntUx ©timme, 
 5ln einer Splutter 23ruft i3end(;rt. 
 
2!)e9 3:f)untte9 ernjie ^ttmme r«[et: Bioei! 
 SSie fd^neK yerrinnet eine @tunb' im 2e6en0fanb! 
 gunfmal funf ^saljx' ftnb u6er mid;) gei^angen, 
 (gelt tobt mem 5\inb in biefen 5trmen lag-, 
 Urn btefe @tunbc hjarb i)on alTem @^merj, 
 3tc^, 3}?ar^ 3aneS meln erfteS ^Inb, U\xdt} 
 SSier 3?Jonb? :^)emn^ at^mett, ble0 Juar at(e0, 
 Sa0 fie gefannt ijon btefev buftern Selt. 
 
 SSom 3:^urnte ruft'g mit ernfter (Stimme: Drci! 
 
 "2Son mir" — f^ricl)t'g ■ — "lerne, luaS bu tuft: etn ®rf?Jt)iugett, 
 
 "(Sin (Scl)aIT, ein ti'ucbt't^eg ©locfenf^nel, — * 
 
 "Sttt 3^it^ttft^^«i <^t« 2BeI{en[rt)lao." 
 
 Wit ernfter (Stimme ruft'^ i)om Xi^nirme: "Ficr! 
 a??tr riefelt'S Kg in'a 3nner|le beS ^er^enS! 
 m njar berfelte Dtuf, al0 33amtore 
 2)ag 3i^gengl6c!c(3en meineS jiveiten ^inbe0 
 3)ie grauen S3erg' entlang erfd^aKen lie^, 
 5(10 tniF iinb (angfam meine X^rdnen fanfen 
 2luf meine tobte 5lnna 3[«t^^n^- 
 
 ^eS 3:^nrmeg ernj^e Stimme rnfet: J*unf! 
 
 ^erjlofer 'Boljn, bn fonnteft '0 nterlekn, 
 
 2)af eii;'ge ^ladjt bie lielten 5lu9en ffl)Io^, 
 
 T>'u ftetS mit immer ftd; erneuernbem 
 
 (Sntjucfen uter bid; if^r £id)t ergoffen, 
 
 5ld}, I'lter bid), ber S)?utter ^renb' nnb .t^offnung, 
 
 T)ci'^ crftgct^or'ne 5linb, ben meiftiielietten 8obn. 
 
 fiangfam nnb fd^twer [;infd;tt)anben fieBen 3ii(;re, 
 
 ®eit id) gefel^'n i(;v IctitcS 5lt()men, 
 
 Seit im &(\md) , Ido etnft if>r 2?ater jlarB, 
 
 >Dte .^inber Jueinenb ii)t jnr (£eite, 
 
 ©ie mifb gelia^elt: "'0 ifl ber 3:ob" — 
 
Unb un§ n^Ki?"^^ "^^^ »^^«i le^ten Stt^mcn. 
 
 ■Sickn unb fiet^tij 2<^i}ve Warm utcr 
 
 5()r ^au^t haijin gerofft: jebod) 
 
 S,kr f)attc meine 2)?utter alt oenannt! 
 
 (£o tiar Wax il)re @timm' unb (;efl t^r ^Iltf, 
 
 ©0 i^ofC i>on SBurbe toar t(;r ®ang, 
 
 Unb, o(;, if^r ^er^ fo iijanu aB je 
 
 Unb gcgen lf)re Siel?eu fictS baffe(6e! 
 
 SBtr Icgten fte, mit ^arj umgoffeu, :t)em 
 
 3ur (Scite, ber in fetner Sugenb 
 
 5^ate'^ feine ^raut genannt, 
 
 JDie 2)?utter ber funf ^vinber fetn, 
 
 !^ie ^onigttt in unfenn 3ntmcnt;au8. 
 
 mhvt unb 5late% fecl)Smal fecl;§ 3a^r' 
 
 $a6t (Siner ^ijx beg 5(nbern gur^t unb <^ojfen, 
 
 ©iner beS 5(nbern Sufi unb @d)merj gett)eiltj 
 
 S)ocft ^urc(^t unb ^offtn , 2ujt unb Sc^merj ent[cl)iDanben, 
 
 dtni)'t enblic^, ^ate^ unb Olohrt, ru^et, 
 
 53egluc!t ijon ©urer 5linber @egen, 
 
 5luf en^ig Su(^ jur ©eite! 
 
 95oin 3:()urme ruft'6 mit evnfier ©timme: Sec^s! 
 
 Xtnb ntar)net ^ff, bajj 5lf(e muffen flerBen 
 
 Unb laffen i>on ber fu§en 2uft, i^om 2ic(?t, 
 
 S5om Sefen, ■ — uni fic^ ^injule^-jen 
 
 5n eU)'ge 9^ad)t. iDod) mid^ mef^r aB bie 2tnbern 
 
 ^ai)nt biefer 9luf, baj; ^llTe, 
 
 ^ie lel'en, jtetBen ntuffenj 
 
 ^enn biefen JRuf i»erna(;m ic!^ jenc ^a^t 
 
 S3on 5trco'S 2:^urm, alS nieine (Seligfeit, 
 
 2(13 meine 5(nn %mc^ micD bev 2:raucr ukrliej, 
 
 ^inge^enb, iDO^er ^fJiemanb n)ieber!ef;rt. 
 
 «)Zeun Zaq' unb 9^dd;te ^F ic^ iC;ren $fuf>t beh)ad)t-, 
 
 2lm je^nten lag, eg iuar am 2I6cnb, f^rac^ fie: 
 
"^aV mi uttb jtuanjtg '^ai^x' nut ^Ir i^cvl^t:acl;t, 
 ''23eglu^te S3raut mtb 2Bett imb 9[>?utter, — 
 "^ie glucfacf)ften ber ^aijxc meincS SefcenS. 
 **2eB' unb jel) cjIiufUd) unb i)on B^it Su Belt, 
 "Sann S)u be§ Zijuxmc^ ©locfenfvnet i^ernimmft, 
 " ®ebenf an >Die, bie nun c§ niit S)ir ^ort 
 "Bum le^teti Q}?a(5 otj , mogcft :Du, 
 "SBann cS X>ix funbet !J)eme le^te <Stunbe, 
 "(So glucfllct; imb ergekn fet)n, aU id;!" ■ — 
 ®^rad}'§ unb l)ie(t tune; brauf ben matten .Q3licf 
 ®r()e^enb, fat; fte mid} ein SSeildunt aw, 
 2)ann fenfte fie ba§ ^au\^t unb liS^cUe mtt ^etcn: 
 "Xtnb folft' e^ jemalS iDieber ;Dir tegegnen, 
 "!J)id) §u t>erma(;(en, moge jeber Segen 
 " ^ernteberttdufeln auf bie neue ©vaut, 
 "Unb mogeft S)u niit it;r 
 
 "So glucflid) fel;n, \vk einft mit niir. 
 
 "Unb nun ift'S auS*, unb luag ntir WiH, 
 
 "3ft, biefen Oiing in X)diu -^anb, bie einft 
 "Bunt meinen i(;n gemad;t, jurud^ufteffen, 
 
 "9tuf bag 2)u i^n kit)at)rft, bieiueif 2)u atf;meft, 
 
 "Unb, iDann bie Stunbe 5)eine^ <Sd;eiben0 fdjlagt, 
 
 ">Du unferm t^euern 5tinbe, 
 
 "liDu unfrer ^atl^arine^ i()n cjeUfl, 
 
 "(5in 5{ngebenfen '^m unb meiner Siek. " — 
 
 ©^rac^'a mit getrod;'ner ©timm', unb it)dC)renb fie 
 
 9^oc^ f^rad; unb fic^ ben diinc^ i^om ^hus^x gog, 
 
 geftfe|3te fic^ beS Sobe^ Clnffe ^arte 
 
 5tuf i(;ren SBangeu} 
 
 ^rfaltet finft bie auSgejiredte ^^anb, 
 
 T)(x iR'mq roUt auf ben 58oben niebcr 
 
 Unb 9Xnn ^am^ ifi — cin Sancj, ber au^gefun^en. 
 
;l)e^ iJenje^^ i)Jat^u bie ^^^ftvjtd;Hutc funbet 
 
 tlnb iuo(;tu nod; beg Sarca 3?raufen reicf;t, 
 
 3>erfenften wix fte In if)r ctnfani i^xab, 
 
 S^i^o (^ronimelei jn n)nt(;en anfi^ef;6i*t} 
 
 ;Denn i^or tf;r {patten 31rco'3 ^^rommler, 
 
 3ur (Sd^anbe 5nTev, bie fid) S()ri|len nennen, 
 
 :DeS 5rleb{;ofa 3:(;ore jngefd^Iagen. 
 
 Cf), t;dttet ^bx fte nur gel^ort 
 
 a^on 5le^erei nnb (Btauh fafeln, 
 
 Unb lute man 5leinen, ber fid; ntd)t i^or'm Btcxl'm 
 
 3uni (Blaukn aiV ber Ueh-io^n tcfannt, 
 
 33ei3ral'en burfe neOen i|(aul'\t]en Seidjen! — 
 
 'i^uxii) i^wdmal breifjii] Zai]' l^cfud^ten wix 
 
 5tn ^area's Itfer- il)r yerlaff neS ^dt, 
 
 Unb iu>r beni (BxaU^ijuQd, 
 
 (^elaijert auf bem Qlafen, 
 
 Senuclnten wix bie traueriH^fCen ^Stunben. 
 
 Unb al3 bie ^ftrfid;Mute luvtr gefaden, 
 
 5(V^nI ju ®nbe luar, bie ^vommelei 
 
 X)eS iuinj'gen 5(rco minber tt)ut(;ig rafte, 
 
 <r)a !amen \mx , ki fCacfernbeni Saternenltd^t, 
 
 2)Ztt (Sd;aufe(n, in ber 3:obtenftifte 
 
 JDer 9^ad;t, unb T;o6cn fd)ix)eigenb au^ ben Sc^^ofren 
 
 fieid;nam unb ^^ruf^e, trad;ten fte {)tnan, 
 
 5So i^on beS ftiden (Eeote ^^iu]eln 
 
 ;Deg 3i*^ii^tt'f^nit^i^^ ^K» lobernb gaf^nte. 
 
 3JtJci Stunben ^or Sonnaufgang ijcitU 
 
 2)le (^lut il^r 2Ber! i>od6rad;t, in etner Urne 
 
 ;Dle Ue{ierrefte, langten ungefdl^rbet \mx 
 
 3u .^aufe an, unb fai^ten !ur^^ unb eifii^ 
 
 5(rco unb felner (^r6nnnlevfc^)aar (^al;nvoC)f. 
 
 a5ergie(\ o -^imuiel, i()nen', unb luenn ivirflid; 
 
 3^v (Slaube ber adeiuii] ivaijxt ifi, 
 
®o le^re fie burcl^ 2;§aten i^n hwaijxm, 
 !Die nid^t Don ©og^ett, bod} i)on fiie6e ^eugen. 
 
 Ttit entjler ©timme ruff a ijom Zijxixmr. SieOen! 
 
 (Jtnfamer SBittoer, luarum fiixbfi bu nict)t? 
 
 2Ba0 lefcft bu, iDO bie 3lnbeni lac()en, 
 
 3u feuf^en nur wnb beine Sage 
 
 ©ntfcf^iDunb'ner ^reube ^u Betrauern? — 
 
 2BoI ^tn id} SBittoer, ahn elnfani titc^t 
 
 3m trauten ^veife iDerer, bte mtr Mctl^en: 
 
 ©in 33ruber unb brei tt}enre @d}tx)e|T:crn 
 
 S3ey6tfern biefe SBilbnif mir; 
 
 Unb tt)ann i^ je jur Zxamx neige, 
 
 2)ann inttet mein gelieHeS 5?tnb, 
 
 2)ann Bittet nieine 5vatr}artne, 
 
 '^a% if)X 5u SieF, id} mid} er^eit're, 
 
 Unb fuft i>on meinem Slugenlieb bic ZXjxam. 
 
 ^eS 3:l}unne0 ernfte ©ttmme nifet: S.d)il 
 
 Saf frul} fte Jommen ober fpdt, id} ijaxx^ 
 
 S3efricbigt, rul}ig, auf bie 3tn!unft 
 
 $Der fefigefe^ten @tunbe, 
 
 SDer ©renje meiner «f)offnungen unb ^engften, 
 
 %\V meiner freubigen unb buftern ^aijx^. 
 
 aSom 3:(}urme ruft'S mit ernfter 'Stimme: Jlmnl 
 O 5latr}arine'*, mein itinb, and} Du mutjt fterten! 
 Till]} feufjen, n^ann id} benfe, bajj inelTeid}t 
 2)ir feine liek «$)anb iDirb na(}e fel,ni, 
 S)ie 2)cine ^i^^en ne^e, T)mu 3(ugen fdVlic^e! 
 SBenngleid} nod} i)0(t be^ gel^cn^ ^:puia :Dir fd}Idgt 
 Unb iveit entfernt nod} T)dm <Sterbeftunbe, 
 £a^, 5lat(}arineS mein 5linb, 2)ein 5(uge uid}t 
 3u glul}ettb auf bem ©itein rul}en; 
 
SieC' biefe 2BeIt be3 ®treiten3 ntcfct ju feljr; 
 
 3m bcjieu '^aii Ij! biefe^ Jiiekn 
 
 (Sin 5iueifYl{;afrc0 ®ut. 
 
 llnb )Dann and) X)dnc ^tunbe eublicf; na(;t, 
 
 X)ann, (Srlnn 2)ii ber Starfe J)einer OJZutter, 
 
 iffienb' a6 :Dein 6vec()enb 5(ug' ijom fieden, 
 
 Hub oI)ne etnen etnj'iien Seuf^cr 
 
 iStirt, iuie 2)u 2)eine 9}?utter flerkn [a^jl, 
 
 ©eben^enb, ba^ bev Job n[c()t nuv ber t^i^^"^^"/ 
 
 9Zein, and) ber fietben 5I6fd}lup fe^. 
 
 9)?it ernfter ©timme ruft'3 i^om 2;^urme: Be^n! 
 
 SSer m6cl;te fetne ©tunben iDieber Uinn 
 
 Unb iuieber !am)3fen ben ujii]Ietd;eu 5tam^f 
 
 Wit Sd^merj unb 5lran!()eit, 5Hter unb 25erbru§, 
 
 Unb fe^'n, icie fetne ^reuben nac^ einanber flie()'n, 
 
 SSie fetne 2te6en nad; einanber jterfen, 
 
 Unb 2 after im ^Irium^I; 
 
 Unb Xugenb tief tni ^fenb fef)'nj 
 
 ;^e3 ©toljen <Bpoit unb «^o()n yon neuem tragen 
 
 Unb in ber 5(nttc^amBre ()arren, 
 
 !j)er (^rojen ^offtaat ju vergrojern*, 
 
 (Sid) frummen unter uni^erbientem Uttrec^t, 
 
 X)aS ^au^t yor bem !i:i;rannen Beugen; ober 
 
 5ur Sd^merjen, bie nic^t fetne etg'nen finb, 
 
 :De3 SKitlelbe 5(ed)sen icieber ad^jen, 
 
 ?5nr Summer, ben er nic^t vermag ju l;ei(en, 
 
 ^ru^tlofe 2^obe3angfi em^finben; 
 
 SSer ifl in'g fieiben fo yernarrt, bap er 
 
 ^0^ einiuat mod^te feine ®tunben leten? 
 
 2)ea X^urmeS ernfle ®ttmme rufet: (tiff! 
 2a^ mid) i)erfud)cn, meine Seiben auf5ujaC;len : 
 3:reulofc greunoe, eitle ^offnungen, 
 
(Sin!enbe0 QUter . . . legt, o^, legt in mu 
 
 Sinfieberci mi^, feme ijon ber SSelt 
 
 2)?tSt6nenber C^ntjji^eiuttg, feme 
 
 a5on t(;rea 9^elbe§ Bel)b' unb trieg, 
 
 %n^ bem Sereic^ ber frommelnben ^eftirer, 
 
 2)ie, iuo jte '^anbettt folften, i^jrebigenj 
 
 $Dort h)tff auf etne Sonnenu^r 
 
 2)Jem 5lug' tc^ :^cften unb bie ©tunben jafjlen, 
 
 SSie jte ijomter jietfn: 
 
 ein0, 3^ei, 3)ret, SSler, ^unf, ©ed;^ unb @ie:6en 
 
 Itnb barauf 5^t, 9^eiin, 3el;n unb @ilf, 
 
 :J)ie (Stunben ii^erben meine Slanjetreben fe^n, 
 
 SSiff uter jebe ©tunb' moralifiren, 
 
 2)ent SO^enfc^en'^eqen lefen einen Znt, 
 
 SBeit tva^rer, al^ ber ©tauten^sunftler (^rebo. 
 
 9Som 3^^urme mft'3 mit emjler (Stimme: Brooff! 
 
 ^oc^ fa()rt ber SSoUmonb burc^ bte WitUxna^jt] 
 
 JDle 9^acl)tluft feufjt unb feufjt, 
 
 2)er lt()u fd^relt, ber Bi^eunb beg !DunfeTg, 
 
 Hub Silber au§ i^ergang'nen X%m \d]\vd'en 
 
 5(u meineni *t;aItgef(^loff nen 5tug' i^orut^er. 
 
 SDZlt meiner 9Zeui»erIoBten JDanbfe ic^ 
 
 ^urrf) etnen ^ain i^ou 3ttter:|3a^^^etn ; 
 
 5tIX' unfre Oflebeu breT;eu jtd} um fitet^ej 
 
 Urn iC^re Wdk fdjlinget fid; mein rect;ter 9(rm, 
 
 3^r linfer %xm auf meiner @d;ulter rul;t. 
 
 2)0^ n)0l)er biefer (Sd;rei, 
 
 25ie3 iplol^lld^e 3»f'inHuenfaI)ren? 
 
 2Baa fd)ldi]t ba3 ^erj fo !ram^fr;aft? 
 
 SDiein Seten, melne 2leF, iijag furd)tefl 3)u? 
 
 5lomm an mcln .^er^, fomni unl;er — ©refer ®ott 
 
 jDe0 ^lmmel0, \va^ umaruf id) ^ier! 
 
^In 2cl(^cntud), umt^utlenb burre 
 
 (Setetne ! 
 
 Hub utcv (^ra^gefteine ftraucC}Ie id) 
 
 Unb ftuqe in ein frifrt; gegrat'neS ®rat; 
 
 .^mntofe (Sc()dbel ^flajtern feinm ®runb 
 
 Unb anciereif;te B^^nc frcinjcn feme SBdnbe. 
 
 SSeJ ijl bie «f)anb, bie hjinfenb leitet ' 
 
 S)urd) biefeS 23etnt)au0 metnen SSeg? 
 
 "(Eire, meln 3^^^^% ^^^ ^auberfl SDu? 
 
 "'§ tfi morgen unfer ^od^dtUaql 
 
 "^ord;! ^od} ^jom 2:r;urme fc^tdgt eg (Etna. 
 
 *'5ln 3)emett finger ftecfe biefen dl'mQ. 
 
 "^aft 2)u ijergeffen ba3 'QUif eh^tg 2)em?' — 
 
 "^etn Un id), $Du Bift mein! 
 
 "CI) !omm, mein 3ameg% unb lag un0 ftngen 
 
 ":J)ie 5nfc()nft un'freS (Ef;evtng3; 
 
 " SDein Hn id) , !l)u Infi mein ! 
 
 "^omm, ftngen ii^ir 'Q(uf eicig :3)etn!' 
 
 "(Eile, mein S^^tneS^ unb lag unS fort, 
 
 "'g ift morgen unfer ^^od)5ett§tag." — 
 
 3c^ lt3ad)te- auf unb bar aUein, 
 
 3um ^enfier \af) ber SD^onb t)erein. 
 
 3c^ tflS bie 3«f<J)^ift auf bem Ogling; 
 
 S)od) ba \vax 9^iemanb, jle ju fingen, 
 
 Hub tuie id) fa^ fo ganj alfetn, 
 
 a^tiefS :^oc^ ijom X()urm mit ernfier ^timme: Cins! 
 
 SSiert, SfiovemBer 1852. 
 
 (1) Sane ift nac^ engHfc^cv SBeife einfiUig au^jufprec^en. 
 
 (2) ^^atc ij^ nad) englifd^er aScife eiufilMg augjufvveri)cii. 
 
 (3) 3amc^ ijl nad; engtif(i)er aJBeife etnfilMg au^sufprec^cn. 
 
 (4) ^at()arine ift nac^ englifc^er SBeife breifitbig augjufpred)en. 
 
WHAT I SAW MOST CURIOUS IN ALL 
 MY TRAVELS. 
 
 I have roamed the world about, 
 Searching- each curious object out; 
 Whatever thing's have made a rout, 
 Whether they be great or small, 
 1 have had a peep at all. 
 
 In Eng^land 1 have seen the Queen ; 
 In Ireland 1 've Killarney seen; 
 In Scotland I 've seen Holyrood, 
 And cut a stick in Birnam Wood, 
 And carried it to Ddnsinane 
 And the castle of the Thane 
 Whose cruel lady shed the bl()od 
 Of Scotland's king-, Duncan the g-6od. 
 
 In Belgium I 've to Brussels been, 
 And admired the city clean. 
 Strolled in its parks and alleys green, 
 And Vesalius' statue seen; 
 And on the monument of the brave 
 Who died their fatherland to save, 
 And lie mouldering- in one grave, 
 The name of every hero read. 
 And where he fell, and how he bled. , 
 Whether he 's burgomaster been. 
 Or duke, or prince, or barber mean. 
 Each has earned his wreath of fame. 
 And stands there an honored name, 
 If all, like me, had time to read, 
 And travelled with so little speed. 
 
Out of Belgium into France; 
 Not to stay, but take a glance 
 At the ever restless nation, 
 That loves to spread such consternation 
 Amongst Europe's lords despotic, 
 Yet by afl its pranks Quixotic 
 Has but got a stronger master, 
 And riveted its fetters faster. 
 Louis Nap, I thought thee ever, 
 Even when others did not, clever; 
 And though I wish thou hadst been more loth 
 To break the sanction of an oath, 
 I thank thee for thy castigation 
 Of popular representation, 
 That quintessence, by sublimation. 
 
 Of the worst foUies of a nation; 
 
 And that thou hast a- packing- sent 
 
 The job they call a parliament; 
 
 That vast club of eternal praters, 
 
 That Pandemonium of debaters, 
 
 That sell their very souls for places, 
 
 And cheat like jockies at the races. 
 
 In Switzerland I 've seen Mont Blanc 
 
 Hiding- his head the clouds among-; 
 
 Dined on cold Mont An vert's top. 
 
 And purchased knick-knacks at the shop 
 
 Just opened on the shivering side 
 
 Of the mighty glacier wide 
 
 By travellers called the Mer de Glace, 
 
 And there they got me on an ass. 
 
 That brought me, up the dizzy pass 
 
 Of Col de Balme, to the Valais, 
 
 Where snug- in Gemmi's baths I lay 
 
And stewed myself the livelong- day, 
 
 And dined on cheese and drank goat's whey 
 
 Then over Simp Ion made my way, 
 
 Like Hannibal, to Italy, 
 
 Once the land of the brave and free. 
 
 And there I saw the famous rope- 
 
 Dancers in Genoa, and the Pope, 
 
 And Vesuvius' burning- crater. 
 
 And the house of the man-hater 
 
 In Venice, and the Gondoletta 
 
 In which he rowed his Guiccioletta, 
 
 And the tomes whence he compiled 
 
 Licentious Juan and The Childe. 
 
 I 've seen in Florence the Bargello; 
 
 And, of marble black and yellow, 
 
 The Cathedral's Campanile, 
 
 A wonderful tall belfry really; 
 
 And Santa Croce's aisle along-, 
 
 The mighty buried dead among-, 
 
 Have with an English swagger walked. 
 
 And with English impudence talked 
 
 Of Macchiavel and Magalotti 
 
 And Michel Angelo Biionarotti; 
 
 Wondered at Giotto's want of shade. 
 
 And why Cimabiie made 
 
 The Virgin's face so round and flat: 
 
 Is 't true she for the likeness sat? 
 
 Pisa, thy Duomo 's more than line; 
 Its very gateway half divine; 
 But why its lower should so incline 
 Out of the perpendicular line, 
 And yet not topple headlong over, 
 
After pains -taking- to discover, 
 
 And endless beating- of my brain 
 
 Some three long- summer- days in vainy 
 
 I turned about in slieer despair, 
 
 And, as I found it, left it there, 
 
 A column leaning on the air, 
 
 To puzzle architectural sages 
 
 As long- as stone-masons get wages. 
 
 Should I begin to tell of Rome 
 
 I 'd scarce end ere the day of doom: 
 
 Besides I have given to Rome before 
 
 Twenty five pages, less or more. 
 
 In that g'dthering- of Windfalls, 
 
 Which every grubbing wit so mauls. 
 
 Scratches and scrapes and claws all over 
 
 W^ith his crow -foot, to discover 
 
 Some crack or flaw to peck and bite at, 
 
 And, to earn a penny, write at. 
 
 So if a sketch of Rome content ye. 
 
 In my Windfalls ye '11 find twenty; 
 
 If more ye want, bid God keep home; 
 
 And off across the Alps to Rome. 
 
 Three weeks I was in Naples 1 
 Scarce took my eyes off the blue sky. 
 How soft, how sweet, how limpid clear 
 The Neapolitan atmosphere. 
 Ye cannot have a notion here, 
 Upon whose heads so heavy lowers. 
 Charged with fogs and mists and showers, 
 This arctic hemisphere of ours. 
 Thrice lovely Naples, when I die. 
 Let me, beneath thy violet sky. 
 
Somewhere near the Mantuan lie, 
 
 Or in the spreading- pahii tree's shade 
 
 Close by the fisher hut be laid, 
 
 Beside the simple fishermaid, 
 
 Whom the coldhearted Frank betrayed. 
 
 By no Frenchman's foot be trod, 
 
 Graziella, thy grave -sod; 
 
 But there let Crocus earUest peep, 
 
 And bending- Willow o'er thee weep, 
 
 And Baja's maidens ciirse a name 
 
 That Gaul takes pride in, to her shame. 
 
 Had Milan nothing biit her Dome, 
 
 Milan were second scarce to Rome; 
 
 I know it well, each flag and stone; 
 
 But best where through the stained-glass shone 
 
 The evening sunbeams soft and mellow 
 
 Tinging the clustered columns yellow, 
 
 That cross the long aisle's colonnade 
 
 Fling their deep and solemn shade, 
 
 And streaming, with soft liistre meek, 
 
 On many a brunette's lovely cheek, 
 
 Lowly among the kneeling crowd 
 
 Before the festooned altar bowed. 
 
 In Germany, as all agree. 
 
 Are many curious things to see: 
 
 Let us our beginning make 
 
 At dirty Hamburg, for the sake 
 
 Of ease and perspicuity, 
 
 For there my ill fate landed me 
 
 Out of clean England; grievously 
 
 Through my nerves olfactory 
 
 Hamburg's dirt offended me; 
 
Nor less shocked mine eyes to see 
 The inky floods that down the street 
 Ran in the driest summer heat, 
 When solstice siins baked me alive 
 And Reaumur stood at thirty five. 
 Escaped from Hamburg's filth and smoke, 
 And its keen commercial folk, 
 To the Hartz 1 take my way, 
 To let the mountain breezes play 
 About me free, and blow away 
 From my fresh -washed skin and shirt 
 The odour of the Hamburg: dirt. 
 
 ^o 
 
 In Leipzig, next, I 'm to the fair, 
 And at the long and black beards stare 
 Of the Jew merchants; and declare, 
 That were I not a Christian born, 
 I would endure the Christian's scorn 
 For Abraham's and Jacob's seed, 
 And Israel's unbelieving creed, 
 To win the privilege to wear. 
 On my own chin, my native hair. 
 
 In Munich the grand Glyptothek 
 
 And still grander Pinacothek 
 
 Beg you '11 not one fault discover 
 
 In Lola Montes' royal lover: 
 
 And great Bavaria, giant tall, 
 
 Standing- in front of Glory's Hall, 
 
 In strength of youth and beauty's pride. 
 
 With the grim Lion at her side, 
 
 Holds the wreath of honor forth 
 
 To reward the highest worth. 
 
In Constance 1 've seen Hiiss's cell, 
 And the Hall where he spoke so well, 
 For his conscience and his life, 
 Against the fagot and the knife. 
 
 In Dresden 1 've the highly prized 
 
 Sistine Madonna criticized, 
 
 And pronounced the drawing triie, 
 
 Biit the color all too blue, 
 
 And the two little imps below 
 
 Fit only for a raree-show, 
 
 With their duck's wings, and foolish grin 
 
 And elbows propping lip their chin. 
 
 The reason why I so admire 
 
 The Dresdeners, if you inquire, 
 
 It is not that they 're over civil, 
 
 Or less ugly than the Devil, 
 
 Or that their houses do not stink 
 
 Like any charnel- vault or sink; 
 
 Biit, in one word, its for the sake 
 
 Of their right royal Bibliothek, 
 
 So nobly to me open thrown, 
 
 To lise as if it were my own. 
 
 And revel there, the whole day long, 
 
 Dear Learning's treasured sweets among-, 
 
 Till, tired, I tiirn for recreation 
 
 To Klemm, and talk of Civilisation,* 
 
 Oft wondering how sausage -fiill 
 
 Of knowledge is the German skull. 
 
 * Dr. Klemm, the learned Oberbibliotliekar of the King's Library 
 in Dresden, has just completed, in 10 vols. 8*"- his Cultm'-Gesehichtc, 
 the labor of twenty five years. 
 
In Prague I 've seen the Clementinum, 
 Laiirenziberg- and Caroliiuim, 
 And Daliborka's donjon Ui!l, 
 And Ladislaus' g-6tliic hall, 
 And the thrice samted, pickled tongue, 
 That high up in the Hradscliin 's hiing, 
 In lionor of tlie Queen's confessor, 
 That silent tongue's quondam possessor, 
 Who in the Moldau's midnight tide, 
 The confessional's martyr, died. 
 
 And, last and greatest, 1 have seen 
 
 The Kaiser- Stadt, imperial Wien; 
 
 With its San Stephan's Thiirm so high, 
 
 And Prater low, and gay Bastei, 
 
 And Eisenstock, and Gottes- acker; 
 
 And had my toe by a Fiacre' 
 
 Run over on the flagway, though 
 
 Near to the wall as 1 could go. 
 
 So close and narrow — • what a pity! — 
 
 The crowded streets of that great city, 
 
 Such jostling in them, crushing, striving, 
 
 Such carting, wheelbarro'ing and driving, 
 
 You neither can get on, nor stop; 
 
 But will- ye, n'ill-ye, in must pop 
 
 Into porte-cochere or shop. 
 
 In one street's length ten times at least, 
 
 If you 'd not give work to the priest 
 
 And notary and undertaker. 
 
 And long farewell bid to the baker. 
 
 And now I 've come hon:ie, safe and well 
 All these ciirious things to tell, 
 
There 's a thing' more curious still, 
 
 Which, if 1 can describe, 1 will: 
 
 Too many words mar sense, 'tis said, 
 
 So what I mean 's a German bed. 
 
 A wool stuffed pincushion, I ween, 
 
 Gentlest reader, thou hast seen; 
 
 Quadrangular, wood on each side, 
 
 And twice as long as it is wide. 
 
 Set this pincushion on fo\ir feet. 
 
 And, on its one end, pillows neat 
 
 Some half a dozen together pile — 
 
 Nay, gentlest reader, do not smile; 
 
 True German never lies in bed, 
 
 But sits, and leans his weary head 
 
 Backwards against such steep incline 
 
 As gives exactly eighty nine 
 
 For the angle's measure which his spine 
 
 Makes with the horizontal line. 
 
 With his one sheet beneath him spread 
 
 Thus sits the German in his bed, 
 
 And on his two knees stretched out straiglit 
 
 Supports his FederdeckbeWs weight, 
 
 That leaves his feet and ankles bare 
 
 To shiver in the mid -night air: 
 
 Yet not one word will he complain, 
 
 Into whose metaphysic brain. 
 
 Of blanket or of counterpane, 
 
 With all his toil and all his sweat, 
 
 No clear Begriff has entered yet. 
 
 So, as I 've siing or rather said, 
 
 Against the Glacis of his bed 
 
 The German leans supine his head; 
 
And sleeps with heedful ciutlon nice, 
 
 Wliile on each side a precipice 
 
 Four ieel down perpendicular. 
 
 Forbids one weary joint to stir 
 
 Either to left side or to right. 
 
 Through the whole livelong- winter night; 
 
 And threatens every deviation 
 
 From rectilineal reclination 
 
 Along- the middle of the crib, 
 
 With broken head or broken rib. 
 
 Your Gernian, who admirer warm is 
 
 or whole bones, swears ''tud'sswws dor mis 
 
 Is the true reading-, and your "ibis'' 
 
 The interpolation of some scribe is. 
 
 Who knew not 'twas a German bed, 
 
 Good father Sol had in his head, 
 
 When he admonished his rash son, 
 
 Fidgetty, restless Phaeton, 
 
 Right in the middle to keep straig-ht, 
 
 If he disliked a broken pate. 
 
 The good advice did b-dt annoy 
 
 The silly, self- conceited boy, 
 
 Who , tired of the exact straight line, 
 
 Fidged to the side of the incUne, 
 
 And tumbling- down, as schoolboys know, 
 
 Into the broad, o'erfldwing Pd, 
 
 Was by his weeping sisters mourned 
 
 Till into poplars they were turned. 
 
 Reader, shduldst thou ever bend 
 Thy steps to Germany, a friend 
 Than Coleridge more experienced, would 
 Persuade thee, if he durst and could, 
 
To bring- with thee , not one poor pair 
 
 Of blankets , from the midnight air 
 
 Thy hips, sides, shoulders to defend; 
 
 But bring with thee, so says thy friend, 
 
 Bedstead and bedding all complete, 
 
 Six feet in length and wide five feet; 
 
 So shall the astonished Kellnerin, 
 
 When at daybreak she brings thee in 
 
 Thy Clip of cofTee, find thee warm, 
 
 And safe escaped all nightly harm 
 
 Of damp or frost or sudden fall; 
 
 And wonder how it comes at all, 
 
 There should be in the world a riig-, 
 
 So fleecy soft, so cozy sniig. 
 
 Yet of the vast, unlieard-of size, 
 
 A man to cover as he lies 
 
 Stretched at full length, and hang down wide 
 
 Below the bed on either side. 
 
 Reader, farewell; and pardon me, 
 Some winter's night in Germany 
 If scanty coverlet, steep high bed, 
 And frozen toes or broken head 
 Make thee remember what 1 've said. 
 
 Written while travelling- on foot from BOTZEN, to INNICHEN 
 in the PTJSTERTHAL, October 1. to October 4. 1852. 
 
M Y JOURNEY 
 
 IN THE AUTUMN OF 1852 FROM MUNICH THR0U«;H THE BAVAIUAIX 
 
 HIGHLANDS UP THE VALLEY OF THE INN AND OVER THE STELVIO 
 
 INTO LOMBARDY. 
 
 With shirt fresh washed, and cravat neat, 
 And worsted socks upon my feet, 
 And shoes half worn and newly soled, 
 And double pockets lined with g-old, 
 And on my head brown Wide-awake 
 Cocked on one side for fashion.'s sake, 
 And gray Alpacha light and warm 
 Hung- loosely over the left arm. 
 To wear in case of cold or storm, 
 And silk umbrella in my hand. 
 Behold me in a foreign kind. 
 
 Let those who love their dear-bought ease, 
 
 Bring- rumbling- with them, if they please, 
 
 Valise and triink and equipage , 
 
 And, at Boulogne, courier engag-e, 
 
 To sit upon coach -box in state. 
 
 And for Milord inside translate; 
 
 Or, forward sent, announce the approach 
 
 Of English g-entleman and coach, 
 
 And at the Poste bespeak relay. 
 
 That there may be no stop nor stay 
 
 In the impatient traveller's way 
 
 Piist every object worth the view 
 
 Tn the strange land he journeys through: 
 
 But 1 profess another creed. 
 
 And difTerent far my rate of speed, 
 
 And few and small the helps 1 need; 
 
Trunk, box, or equipage, I 've none; 
 And as for courier — 1 'm my own: 
 And yet I go not all alone, 
 For at my side is always one 
 Whose sweet companionship more sweet 
 Makes every object w^hich I meet; 
 More soft the air, the sky more blue, 
 Each field and flower more bright of hue. 
 The morn more fresh, less grave the even; 
 And where she breathes there is my heaven. 
 
 An hour before the matin chime, 
 I hear a voice: — "To rise it 's time;" 
 And then 1 feel a daughter's kiss — 
 "The morning hour we must not miss; 
 No more of sleep; the sky is bright; 
 We 've twenty miles to make ere night; 
 Make haste, Papa." And then she brings 
 Those items which the sex call things. 
 And men their clothes; cravat and vest, 
 Coat, shirt and stockings — and the rest; 
 And wiiile, with ever and anon 
 Her helping hand, 1 put them on, 
 Reniinds me how the minutes pass, 
 And makes brief toilette at the glass. 
 Dressing achieved , we hiirry down 
 To the Gast-Stilhe; muddy brown 
 Whose naked tables, walls and floor, 
 Cushion less scats and oft- turned door; 
 Our coiiee in all haste despatch, 
 DiscliJirge our reckoning, raise the hitch, 
 And, while around the whole houseliold cry 
 ' (iliichiichc Jlc'isc,' bid good ])ye, 
 And out upon our road ag;iin , 
 
Aloiii; the valley, 'cross the plain, 
 Through village, haailet, city, town, 
 Now lip the mountain and then down. 
 
 Now by the side of rippling- lake. 
 Lingering-, slow, our w^ay we take; 
 And watch with ever new delig-ht 
 The freaks of the reflected lig-ht; 
 How from wave to wave it g-lances, 
 How it shivers, how it dances; 
 Here spread out so warm and mellow 
 Under some soft cloud's morning- yellow, 
 There wrinkling- black beneath the frown 
 Of yon o'erhanging- mountain brown. 
 
 Now our way leads through the shade 
 
 By sycamore and walnut made; 
 
 Where the beech spreads overhead, 
 
 And the rowan berries red 
 
 Droop graceful from their slender stalk: 
 
 Pleasant indeed it is to walk 
 
 Under this ever- varying screen, 
 
 This twinkling- canopy of green, 
 
 And watch the timid squirrel spring-, 
 
 And hear the shy wood throstle sing; 
 
 Or peering- down some dim-Ht aisle 
 
 Of plane or poplar, see defile 
 
 Out of the thicket and the shade 
 
 into the siin- illumined g-Uide 
 
 The red deer's stately cavalcade; 
 
 Like train of monks from the dark door 
 
 Of sacristy or cloister hoar, 
 
 Forth issuing into the bright. 
 
 Illuminated chancers light. 
 
And now with lig-htsome footstep free, 
 We 're bounding o'er the mountain iea 
 With euphrasy and daisy pied, 
 Along the murmuring brooklet's side, 
 Where a thousand nibbling sheep 
 Such a tinkle tinkle keep; 
 And see the shepherd on a rock 
 Seated tend his woolly flock; 
 Round his neck his whistle 's hung-, 
 'Cross his back his wallet 's sking-; 
 Emblem and engine of command, 
 llis seven -foot crook 's in his right hand; 
 In vain, bold ram, that threatening look, 
 Thine hind leg- 's in the merciless crook; 
 Submit, proud ram; thy strug-gle vain 
 Does but to torture turn thy pain. 
 And now, "whee! wheel" his whistle shrill 
 Commands his dog down from the hill 
 To tiirn, with bark and well- feigned bite, 
 The sturdy wedder, that in spite 
 Of showers of clay from the crook's scoop 
 Has dared to straggle from the troop. 
 
 A I'dugher scene salutes us now; 
 
 Lean over yonder rock's steep brow; 
 
 Hear what an liproar reigns below; 
 
 See how the headlong torrent riishes, 
 
 How it eddies, foams and gushes. 
 
 How from ruck to rock it tumbles. 
 
 Hear how the ground about tliee rumbles: — 
 
 ''Take care my child, come fast away, 
 
 Thy nice and hair are wet with spray." 
 
 "1)0 stay. Papa, a moment stay; 
 
 Though with somewhat boisterous r)lay, 
 
The waters spirt and loam and hiss, 
 
 As they pliing-e into the abyss, 
 
 And with spray have wet my hair. 
 
 And with dampness filled the air, 
 
 See yonder what a lovely Bow 
 
 Spans the awful chasm below, 
 
 Warm red and yellow, blent with bliie, 
 
 And the violet's tenderer hiie; 
 
 Bridg-e biiilt for the new -wedded bride 
 
 Of some fairy king- to ride, 
 
 By her royal consort's side. 
 
 On her prancing- palfrey pied. 
 
 Safe across the steep ravine, 
 
 To the castle never seen 
 
 By presumptuous mortal eye. 
 
 Till midnight's pall has wrapped the sky. 
 
 And from battlement and tower 
 
 The phantom wvatch have called the hour: 
 
 Then sJdden on the astonished sight 
 
 Bursts the castle blazing bright 
 
 With a thousand tapers' light; 
 
 And on the ear peals from within 
 
 The Mandolin's right merry din, 
 
 x\nd Song and dance and revelry 
 
 Last till the phantom watch cry — Turee 
 
 When in a trice the lights are out. 
 
 Hushed in a trice song , dance and shout, 
 
 And the enclianted castle 's gone, 
 
 Leaving no relic, stock nor stone. 
 
 To mark the site it stood upon: 
 
 Till at the same hour the next night, 
 
 With its thousand tapers bright, 
 
 It bursts ag'iiin upon the sight; 
 
 And song and dance and jollity 
 
Again last till the watch cry — Three; 
 When all at once from mortal ken 
 Vanish the fairy towers again; 
 And the early traveller through the wood 
 Gathers mushrooms where they stood." 
 
 The midday siin has scaled the sky; 
 Our path leads up a mountain high; 
 Gradual at first, then steep and sheer; 
 How dwindled down to mice appear 
 The sheep, that on yon hills below 
 Grazing we left two hours ago ! 
 Our forest friends have one by one 
 Left us to take our way alone: 
 Soft Willow first began to wail 
 And weep that she had left the vale; 
 Then Poplar tired, and ceased to climb, 
 Saying he 'd come another time, 
 But now would rather stay with Lime: 
 Next sturdy Oak stopped far below, 
 And Walnut could no further go, 
 And Cypress shivered with the cold. 
 And Chesnut was too stiff and old. 
 And said that up the steep incHne 
 We needed biit stout hardy Pine 
 For company; for he was long 
 Iniired to dwell those heights among, 
 And would neither tire nor stop 
 But keep close by us to the top. 
 Sweet words of comfort, Chesnut bland. 
 And false as sweet, thou hast still at hand; 
 More than a good half hour ago 
 Stout Pine grew tired, and staid below, 
 Gasping foi* brcatli: and said that he 
 
Was loth to part good company, 
 
 But could not bear an altitude 
 
 Above the spot ^vhere6n he stood. 
 
 So, ^^•hile thou toil'st up life's steep hilU 
 
 Thou 'rt leaving- friends behind thee still; 
 
 And one is weak, and one is slow, 
 
 And, breathless, one stops far below; 
 
 And ten are false, and twenty die. 
 
 That to thy youth gave company: 
 
 And thou, ere half the steep thou hast won, 
 
 Look'st round, and 16! thou stand'st alone, 
 
 Unless, for mutual shield from harm. 
 
 Thou hast linked thee in a brother's arm, 
 
 Or some dear sister walks beside, 
 
 Or kind Heaven 's bound thee to a bride 
 
 In happy fetters; or a mild 
 
 And dutiful daughter, like my child. 
 
 My beloved Katharine, hovers near. 
 
 Thine age's fainting steps to cheer. 
 
 Stark desolation wouldst thou see, 
 
 Up to the high mountains, lip with me; 
 
 iielow thee leave the sheltered glen, 
 
 Dutted with the abodes of men; 
 
 Below thee leave the shepherd's pen; 
 
 Far below in the distance dim, 
 
 Leave the charcoal-burner grim. 
 
 With his dun oxen and his load 
 
 Lumbering down the dangerous road; 
 
 Far below leave the last green spot 
 
 And the highest Sennefs lonely cot; 
 
 And with unwearied limb and breath 
 
 Press upwards 'cross the damp brown heath. 
 
 Whose matted fibres' slow decay. 
 
Year after year, day after day, 
 Clothes with a deeper quag-g-ier mold 
 The mountam g-ravel wet and cold. 
 Springing' from tiift to tiift across. 
 Thou hast left behind bog, heath and moss,. 
 And with no jot of vigour less 
 Toilst lip the stony wilderness 
 From whence, a thousand years ag^o, 
 Torrents and rains and melting- snow 
 Have washed down to the vale below, 
 And thence borne to the sea awt4y, 
 The finer debris sand and clay. 
 Leaving' the g-rosser stones behind 
 Bleaching' in sunshine rain and wind, 
 Till grain by g-rain away they 're worn, 
 And gradual down the same path borne. 
 
 Look round; what objects meet thy sight? 
 
 "Stones, only stones, left hand and rig-ht; 
 
 Before, behind, stones, only stones, 
 
 Thick strewn as deadmen's mouldering- bones 
 
 Upon some charnel-house's floor." 
 
 Look lip above thee; what see'st more? 
 
 "The g'dunt cheeks of the mountain hoar, 
 
 By many a torrent ravined- deep, 
 
 Each ravine ending in a steep 
 
 Delta of gravel, from the crown 
 
 Of the ever crumbling' summit down 
 
 Brought by the waters, and outspread 
 
 To be their waste and nigged bed." 
 
 Still higher look; what see'st thou now? 
 
 "Crowning- the Uill clifT's clammy brow 
 
 1 see tlie everlasting- snow. 
 
 Like the white cap that wraps the head 
 
Of cold corpse in the coffin lakl, 
 Or outstretched on the funeral bed; 
 Liijht on the dcadcap rests the shroud, 
 And light upon the snow the cloud, 
 Whose thick impenetrable haze 
 Shields the highest pinnacles from the gaze, 
 And, by no ray of sun pierced through, 
 Shuts in all round the upward view." 
 
 A mountain circus capped with snow, 
 
 Dark mists above, grey stones below, 
 
 No livings thing, no speck of green, 
 
 No print to mark where life has been, 
 
 The deathlike silence only broke 
 
 By the torrent's roar or falling- rock — 
 
 Haste, thou that life hast, haste away; 
 
 Great Nature suffers not thy stay 
 
 In these her outskirts; in the waste 
 
 And horrible wilderness she has placed 
 
 On her extremest frontier's edge. 
 
 On her vast globe s most prominent ledge. 
 
 Stark desolation if there 's here, 
 
 What is there quite beyond the sphere? 
 
 To the vast g-lacier let us now 
 
 Descend along this sloping brow; 
 
 With steady footstep, sure and slow, 
 
 Downward in broad zigzags go ; 
 
 Into the gravel press hard thy heel, 
 
 Thy toe the ground must scarcely feel: 
 
 And now upon thine Alpenstock 
 
 Throw thy whole weight, and to yon rock, 
 
 As Gemsen-Jdger fearlessly, 
 
 Across the wide chasm spring witli me. 
 
Well done — Is 't not a glorious sight 
 
 Th' untrodden glacier's dazzling white. 
 
 Wave beyond wave spread endlessly, 
 
 Frozen billows of a frozen sea? 
 
 Look down this fissure, two feet wide 
 
 And fifty deep ; on either side 
 
 Light pierces far into the mass 
 
 Of solid, green, crystalline glass, 
 
 That fills the mountain ravine wide. 
 
 From top to bottom, side to side; 
 
 Beneath dissolving- gradually 
 
 And ever draining- toward the sea: 
 
 Above replaced continually 
 
 By snowslips from the summits high. 
 
 And on its surface, toward the vale, 
 
 Down wafting in perpetual sail 
 
 Its freig-ht of thousand, thousand tons 
 
 Of fallen -down gravel and boulder- stones. 
 
 Mountains and snow^s behind us lie, 
 Above us spreads a soft blue sky; 
 Warm in the siin the landscape glows, 
 A freshening zephyr round us blows. 
 Fanning us with the rich perfume 
 Of orange and acacia bloom. 
 Cast round thine eyes; on every side, 
 Through all the rolling champaign wide, 
 Extend in many a parallel line 
 The pollard proppings of the vine; 
 Freely between from link and noose 
 Hang the broad floating festoons loose 
 Of the wonder-working jiiice, 
 That open lays the heart of man, 
 To his brother's eyes to scon, 
 
And laic, clergy, stibjects, kings, 
 To one and the same level brings; 
 That cheers the sick-bed and inspires 
 The poet's and the lover's fires, 
 And hues of heaven, odours of rose, 
 Round life's exhausted pilgrim throws. 
 Let Ceres boast her golden sheaves, 
 And Flora her enamelled leaves, 
 Let Pallas keep her olive wand, 
 The myrtle still grace Venus' hand, 
 And Morpheus round affliction's bed 
 Still wave his drowsy poppyhead, 
 Dearer to me than flower or sheaf, 
 Or olive branch or myrtle leaf. 
 Or poppy's blessed anodyne. 
 Dearer to me and more divine 
 One tendril, Bacchus, of thy vine, 
 One sparkle of a ciip of wine. 
 
 Above, the wine festoons float free; 
 Below, wide -spreading like a sea, 
 Waves stately o'er the golden plain 
 The Kiikuritz' sun -loving grain, 
 Chequered with many a verdant spot, 
 Where round the peasant's woodroofed cot 
 Gay Buckwheat shews his buskin red, 
 And Millet droops her pensive head. 
 
 But westering Sol bids us make haste, 
 And not our precious minutes waste 
 In too contemplative a gaze 
 On various Nature's wondrous ways, 
 When on night quarters we should think, 
 And something- g-et to eat and drink; 
 
And hints that tlioiigii his sister Di 
 
 May do for lovers to swear by , 
 
 She 's not to be depended on 
 
 By two who, by theniselves alone, 
 
 Travel on foot a kind unknown. 
 
 With Sol I '11 not the point dispute. 
 
 For Sol 's not easy to confute, 
 
 And 1 myself shrewdly incline 
 
 To Slipper and a pint of wine, 
 
 Snug- parlour, sofa, and warm bed 
 
 With three down pillows c4t the head 
 
 And one along- the footboard laid, 
 
 There to repose my weary bones 
 
 And leave hills, valleys, rocks and stones, 
 
 Vines, buckwheat, millet, Turkish corn, 
 
 To shiver in the cold till morn: 
 
 Then ere the siin has left his bed. 
 
 Or tipped the upland pines with red, 
 
 We rise refreshed and out ag-ain 
 
 'Cross mountain, valley, hill and plain, 
 
 Through copse and thicket, lawn and gkide, 
 
 In sunshine now, and now in shade; 
 
 Leaving to others ease and wealth, 
 
 And gathering, daily, strength and health, 
 
 And sweet contentment, daughter fair 
 
 Of exercise and open air; 
 
 And, with discourse various and free 
 
 On all the novelties we see. 
 
 Breaching the thick walls of the cell 
 
 Where our blind ignorance loves to dwell. 
 
 With her ill-favored children three, 
 
 Pride, prejudice and bigotry, 
 
 And letting in warm rays of light 
 
 To illuminate our mental night. 
 
SPEND AND SPARE. 
 
 Twin brothers in old times there were, 
 The one called Spend, the other Spare; 
 And thus, once in the morning- red, 
 Together as they lay in bed. 
 One brother to the other said:-- 
 "Good brother Spare, it breaks my heart, 
 Biit from each other we^ must part; 
 Two opposites cannot agree. 
 And thou 'rt as opposite to me 
 As wet to dry, as hot to cold, 
 As high to low, as young- to old: 
 So take which way thou likest best. 
 To North or South, to East or West, 
 And 1 will take the opposite way, 
 And at the end of a year and day 
 We 'Jl meet upon this spot again, 
 And calculate our loss or gain." 
 Agreed: they kiss, shake hands, and go. 
 At first with thoughtful step and slow. 
 One to the eastward up the hill, 
 Westward the other down the rill 
 That turned the old , paternal mill ; 
 And 6ft, with wave of bit and hand, 
 A step or two returning-, stand 
 In miite farewell a moment still — 
 And now between them lies the hill, 
 And each, his childhood's helpmate gone, 
 Is left to take his way alone. 
 
 For a hundred ducats gold 
 
 These brothers, as the story 's told, 
 
Had the mill ancestral sold, 
 And, for better or for worse, 
 Fifty ducats in his piirse 
 Each brother had upon the day 
 He set out on his separate way. 
 
 As soon as Spend was out of sight, 
 Spare took his piirse, and tied it tight 
 With three hard knots , and tucked it in 
 Between his waistband and his skin; 
 Then went and earned a groat that day 
 Beside free lodging, and did pay 
 A quarter groat for bread and beer, 
 And fire his evening hearth to cheer. 
 Next day he earned another groat. 
 Another quarter paid his scot, 
 And Spare that evening at his fire 
 Was happy to his heart's desire, 
 And, as he lay down in his bed. 
 Thus to himself, contented, said: — 
 "The fifty ducats yellow^ gold, 
 For which my half the mill 1 sold, 
 May well with good economy 
 A hundred golden ducats be, 
 Before the day and twelvemonth's end. 
 When 1 'm to meet my brother Spend." 
 And so Spare earned a gioat a day, 
 And still three quarters by did lay, 
 Augmenting still his well saved store, 
 And to his ducats adding more. 
 Industrious, frugal and content, 
 After the day in labor spent. 
 He 'd share his fire and evening cheer 
 With some dear friend or neighbour near 
 
And smoke liis pipe and crack his joke 
 
 Like otlier spriicc, well doing- f(')lk; 
 
 Then Jilce a top sleep, rise at light, 
 
 And labor till returning night. 
 
 And think, as he tied lip his piirse, 
 
 How waste brings want, and want brings worse. 
 
 Meantime Spend earned his daily groat, 
 
 And spent it too; — why should he not? 
 
 With fifty diicats in his piirse 
 
 Why should Spend his earnings niirse? 
 
 Abstain from innocent recreation 
 
 And practise self-mortification? 
 
 Who but a miser would take pleasure 
 
 In heaping- lip a useless treasure? 
 
 Besides to spend, some wise men say. 
 
 Is, to be g-reat, the shortest w;iy. 
 
 And Cato, careful of his pence, 
 
 Miist to the vast munificence 
 
 Of gl()rious Cesar yield the day. 
 
 And. at the l;)St, sore n'ckoning- pixy 
 
 For pitting- ag-ainst mig-hty 'Bando'* 
 
 And still mightier ' Suhlrvando\ 
 
 And magnetic ' Jgnosccn(lo\ 
 
 His sting-y 'Nihil Urfjicndo'. 
 
 -'And so to make the world my friend 
 
 I '11 lise my cash,'' thought master Sprnd . 
 
 "And thiis at once two objects gain. 
 
 Pleasure and profit both att.un ; 
 
 And. as pliilosophers recommcMid, 
 
 The utile and dulcc blchid."' 
 
 * "Coosar dando. siiMovando. ignoscondo : Calo niliil laririendo, 
 ■ioriam adeptiis." Sall. Cdtil. 54. 
 
 A2 
 
So Spend lived easy, free, and gay, 
 
 And t() no borrower said nay, 
 
 And t.lioug'ht no man did ever worse 
 
 Than tie a tight string- round liis piirse, 
 
 And when at night he went to bed 
 
 Self-gratiilating tliiis he said: — 
 
 "I earn with ease a groat each day. 
 
 And though two groats be my outlay, 
 
 Or something more, I do not fear 
 
 But that [ shall within the year 
 
 Be twice as rich, at least, as Spare, 
 
 And with one half the toil and care." 
 
 The year and day 's come to an end; 
 
 Met are the brothers Spare and Spend : 
 
 In raptures each to see the other: — 
 
 "Dear brother, how dost?" "How dost, brother?" 
 
 Each has a thousand things to say, 
 
 To each it is his happiest day: 
 
 Each will the other treat to wine 
 
 And dinner at the Golden Vine; 
 
 Both order dinner, both will pay : — 
 
 "Nay"— "Yes, dear brother"— "Nay"— "Yes"- " Niiy 
 
 The world ne'er saw a merrier pair 
 
 Than were that evening Spend and Spare; 
 
 (iood dinner, wine, a dear loved brother: 
 
 Each talked louder than the other, 
 
 Told how the whole year he had fared, 
 
 This, how he had spent; that, how he liad spared; 
 
 And each grown rich a difTerent way: — 
 
 "And dost thou mean, dear Spend, to say. 
 
 Without one diicat in thy piirsc. 
 
 Thou art all the better and no worse?" 
 
 "Gold is but trash while in purse pent; 
 
It gains its wurtli by being- spent; 
 
 And mine 's spent f(3r the ijest of ends, 
 
 To win me pleasure, power, and friends: 
 
 With rich, with poor, with high, with low 
 
 1 'm welcome wheresoe'er I go; 
 
 On every side I am caressed; 
 
 1 'm every wliere an honored guest; 
 
 I meet no man but is my friend, 
 
 Ready to give me, or to lend — " 
 
 ''Then pay the reckoning, brother Spend." 
 
 The landlord 's called; makes out the bill; 
 
 Spend doubts not biit he kindly will 
 
 Over till next week let it lie; 
 
 For he had been unluckily 
 
 Prevailed upon, that morn, to lend 
 
 His last pair diicats to a friend, 
 
 Who had promised payment that day week, 
 
 And by no chance his word would break. 
 
 "Nay, don't look grave, Ihou wilt and miist; 
 
 Thou 'rt the first man I 've asked for trust, 
 
 Triist for one week till cash comes in — 
 
 Damn it! he looks as black as sin. 
 
 Spare, pay the fellow, and let 's go; 
 
 So much for a few days I '11 owe 
 
 To my dear brother. Wliy, thou art slow!" 
 
 "And what else makes me have, this day, 
 
 A chokeful purse our bill to pay, 
 
 But that r m always slow to spend. 
 
 Loth to give, more loth to lend? 
 
 Ah! if thou wouldst Ijut learn from me, 
 
 What happy brothers we might be, 
 
 Wliile each his savings well did niirse, 
 
 And nourish in a close- watched purse!" 
 
 A3 
 
He said, and linder his waistband 
 Felt for his piirse; first with one hand, 
 And, missing- it, then with the other, 
 And felt and groped; then at his ])r6lher 
 Fiill in the face stared, and turned pale 
 As candle hanging from a nail, 
 Or niin just drawing on the veil, 
 Or school -girl, wh(3 first time the tale 
 Drinks in of hapless Leonore, 
 And thinks she hears knock at the d()or 
 That steel- cased w^arrior grim and gray, 
 Who is, before the dawn of day. 
 Behind him on his steed away 
 To bear her with him, all alone, 
 Full gallop over stock and stone 
 Into his spectral realms unknown: — 
 "They 've ciit my piirse, the thieves!" he sobbed, 
 "And of my earnings I am robbed. 
 My hard, hard earnings for the year, 
 Beside the fifty ducats clear. 
 For which my half the mill 1 sold. 
 In all a hundred ducats gold — 
 Purse, earnings, capital, in one swoop! 
 Ah, faithless waistband, knot, and loop!" 
 
 Spend laughed, and rose up fjom his chair, 
 And kindly pressed the hand of Spare: — 
 "Our cases are alike, dear ln'(')ther, 
 And one 's no wiser than the other. 
 Each took to wealth a difl'erent way. 
 And each lias failed. Some future day 
 We '11 meet upon this spcVt agahi , 
 To c()unt, perhaps, not loss, but gain. 
 "May it be so!" said Spare, and sighed; 
 
"It OKiyn't be so!" the landlord cried; 
 "Enough once in my house to meet" — 
 And pushed both out into the street. 
 
 Began at POERTSCHACH in CAlllNTiHA, Octob. 12. 1852; 
 resnnied between KINBERG and LANGENWANG in UPPER ISTYRIA, 
 Oetob. 24; and finisiied at VIENNA, Nov. 4. 
 
 lluO c fcOricO' uc 35fntter. 
 
 Uutcfrt)neFne 33(dtter ijletci;eu 
 SSoIfeulofen ^immelretclHMt ) 
 iJBenn id) t()ve ^etn(;eit [ef)e, 
 %\\^k tc^ ber 2Be(;mut(; 9Mr;e. 
 
 SBoIfeu tommeu falb j^ejogen, 
 ^lifter mirb ber ^immel^Bogen; 
 2;^i'anen talb beii ^Itcf umf)iK(en, 
 Uui bev ^(dtter 2Bcif ^u fiUfen. 
 
 35. (tallied. 
 
 B L A N K L EAVES. 
 
 SUGGESTED BY THE '" UISUESCHRIEB'nE BLAETTER" OF B. CARISERI. 
 
 O'er all yon cloudless sapphire sky 
 
 Roams linrefreshed the pilgrim's eye; 
 
 Tiirn where it will, North, South, East, West, 
 
 No speck it finds, no spot to rest. 
 
 Come, rainbow clouds, come back again, 
 
 Though ye should drench him with your rain. 
 
 A4 
 
So o'er my paper's spotless white 
 Roams unrefreshed my aching- sight, 
 Till with her full pen Phantasy 
 Comes, and fills the blank for me 
 With misty visions, hopes and fears, 
 Oft ending- in a flood of tears. 
 
 VIENNA, Nov. G. 1852. 
 
 Ber ♦groBottter. 
 
 5lomm ju mir, gclie6ter 5lnaBe, 
 Se^e bt(^ axtf mclnen S4)00S. 
 fS^k bu frtfc^ Kfi, fc^Ianf unb feurig, 
 ^ux bein Qllter flat! imb gro^! 
 
 ®tt ben 5frm um metnen yiadm, 
 ®^ielc mit bent ^'ilhn^aax, 
 ^ag it)te belneg, junger ^na6e, 
 (Sittfi fo fd;tuar§ nnb il^p^^ig ii'flt*- 
 
 SBann bu 9}2ann U\t, wixfc, f;anble, 
 (Scf)affe, beiner ^raft t'eiriijt; 
 !^oc^ in 3ltenb(iunben benfe 
 5tn beS 5irtera ftiffe Sufi, 
 
 (5c(;eue ntd;t ba3 niube 5(Iter, 
 3ji eg bod; bie 3eit ber SJiuT;'. 
 J)ev bem 5tlter jugeldc^elt, 
 8dd;elt einfl bem 3:obe ju. 
 
 X. (£ttiiicci. 
 
So iDiir cs eiult, 
 
 Sturmte bte ^ci^'d 
 
 Hub 3»^t'fgefanc5 
 
 Den Strom entlang; 
 
 Itcter ^erij unb Zijcii , buvrf; S^iefcn uub 2BaIi? 
 
 .^tnrif nit(^ ber 3«3^»'^i3f«t ?>-te(:evgciDaIt. 
 
 80 iDar e0 einfl! 
 
 <^a|l iRedjt, metn -^erj, iDcnn bu ju h*crf)en moinjl. 
 
 9Wein Sefen^mar! 
 
 SBar gefintb itnb j^ar!; 
 
 Da6 frete ^elb 
 
 Unterm ^immel^^elt 
 
 23ar meine SBett; 
 
 3c^ fanntc ben nagenben Srutjlnn nidn 
 
 ttnb ^eiter unb frof) faf; mein frifdjeS 03ejtd;t, 
 
 80 njar eS einft! 
 
 Apajl Oiec^t, metn 33ltc!, iuenn bu 5U 3^iten iueinfl. 
 
 33tn !ran! unb matt, 
 
 SBie lehnafatt, 
 
 Itnb ijefen mu^ 
 
 3c^ ben Qd^fd^ieb^ijruf; 
 
 !Dem getuo^nten ®enu§; 
 
 (Se^emmt iji bev ^i^l^nb 6ei]eiftei:ter ^hh], 
 
 9)?u^ tetteht urn jebeu '^(tf)em:;uiv 
 
 (2o rt>ar e6 ctnfl? 
 
 ^a|i 9^eci;t, mein Apirn, luenn bu ju ivanfen fcl)ctn|^. 
 
 3d. (Carucri. 
 
AGE. 
 
 WRITTEJN AFTER READING •" 1>ER GROSS VATER" A^D 
 '*S0 WAR ES EINST" OF B. CARINERI. 
 
 Come, little child, sit on my knee; 
 Hold lip thy head , and look at me ; 
 Nay, thou canst not sit still for glee; 
 Then go, my child, I set thee free: 
 Once on a time I was like thee, 
 And skipped and laughed and frolicked so; 
 Ah! it is long, long- long- ago. 
 
 Come here , young man , and sit by me ; 
 And tell me triily -who -was she 
 That arm in arm so lovingly 
 Walked -with thee last night o'er the lea, 
 None but the moon in company. 
 Nay, if thou bliishest, tell not me; 
 (3nce on a time 1 too blushed so. 
 Ah! it is long, long long ago. 
 
 Wido-wer, come here, and dry thine eye; 
 Let thy breast heave no mure the sigh; 
 Think no more of the days gone by 
 And bones that in the cold earth lie. 
 Nay, if thy tears but faster flow, 
 1 '11 not bid them stop; no! no! 
 There was a time my tears flowed so ; 
 Ah! it is long, long- long- ago. 
 
Childless father, weep no more; 
 Death 's bat, to re[)ose, the door; 
 Thy children are hut j^unc before; 
 Over that lirn no longer pore. 
 Nay, from it if thou wilt not sever, 
 1 '11 not bid thee; never! never! 
 I to my children's urn clung- so; 
 Ah! it is long-, long long- ago. 
 
 Come back, sweet child, sit on my knee; 
 
 Hold lip thy head, and look at me; 
 
 if but thy life 's spared, thou shalt be, 
 
 In all things, siich as thou see'st me. 
 
 And to some sweet child on thy knee 
 
 Shalt talk as now I talk to thee, 
 
 And say thou didst the old man know, 
 
 With head like thine as white as snow. 
 
 And back bent quite into a bow. 
 
 And toothless giims, and dripping- nose, 
 
 And shanks too small for his wide hose, 
 
 And joints swelled with rheumatic pains. 
 
 And blotched hands ribbed with larg-e black veins, 
 
 And, if thou wert not stiff, thou 'dst go 
 
 And his grave in the churchyard shew, 
 
 Where in thy youth they laid him low. 
 
 Ah! it was long-, long long- ag-6. 
 
 VlEiNNA. Nov. 6. 18j2. 
 
 As 
 
THERMOMETER AND BAROMETER. 
 
 "Good morning-, TheniKJmeter, how dost today?" 
 
 "I thank thee, Barometer, miich the same way; 
 
 Somethnes hot, sometmies cold, not two minutes the same; 
 
 In the world there 's no rest for this sensitive fz^ame. 
 
 Ah! how happy 's my friend that the difference knows not 
 
 Between liike warm and boiling-, between cold and hot. 
 
 To whom ice and fire differ only in name, 
 
 And freezing- and burning- are one and the same." 
 
 "Do tell me but how to relieve thy sad case; 
 
 Let me think — stay — I have it now — Let us change place — 
 
 Just for twenty four hours — one day and one night — " 
 
 "That indeed is true friendship" — "There — now we 're all right.' 
 
 From the South-west that night came the wild hurricane 
 
 With thunder and lightning- and torrents of rain; 
 
 Sound, sound slept Barometer all the night through — 
 
 Such a sleep such a night was to him something- new — 
 
 And awaking next morning-, as lark fresh and gay, 
 
 His respects to Thermometer hastened to pay 
 
 With "My dear friend, how dost thou? feel'st better today?" 
 
 Such a groan as Thermometer drew from his breast, 
 
 By painter poetic may not be expressed; 
 
 Such a groan in this wide world has never been heard 
 
 Since to sleeping Eneas dead Hector appeared. 
 
 And cried: — "0 Eneas, the city 's on fire; 
 
 Awake, save thyself and thy (ickls and thy sire." 
 
 Such a groan heaved Thermometer as he replied: — 
 
"Than have passed such a night, hetter far to have died. 
 
 Oh! hadst thou foreseen, honored sire Falirenheit, 
 
 That thine ofTspring- beloved was to pass such a night, 
 
 Tliou 'dst have dashed him to pieces the day of his birth, 
 
 And scattered his fragments through air, sea and earth. 
 
 Oh, liow my heart sank when the thunder began! 
 
 What a thrill, what a tremor through all my blood ran! 
 
 Before each blue tlash how my wiiole soul did quail, 
 
 And how often I envied the too happy snail. 
 
 Who, when danger approaches, can draw himself quite 
 
 Back into his biilb, and be all safe and right: 
 
 But the lower / sank, and the more / drew in, 
 
 Only bhier the flashes and louder the din. 
 
 The storm only fiercer shook ceiling and wall, 
 
 And in one ruin threatened to biiry us all. 
 
 So, Barometer dear, let us quick change again; 
 
 Take thou back thy storm, thunder, lightning and rain, 
 
 And I will return to my cold and my hot, 
 
 And live for the future content with my lot." 
 
 Every one has his troubles; keep thou to thine own: 
 Only less seem thy neighbour's, because they 're unknown. 
 
 Written while walking from VIENNA to SCHOENBRUNN and 
 back, Nov. 7. 1852. 
 
 "Put no trust in this world," wise men tell you and sigh 
 "It 's a hollow delusion, a cheat to the eye. 
 Unreal, unsuV)Stantial, the shade of a shade — " 
 What wonder? this world out of nothing was nuide. 
 
 VIENNA, Nov. 19. 1852. 
 
THE PRFXEDING TRANSLATED INTO GERMAN BY R. CARNERT. 
 
 " Bcift in bie SSeltfein 3>crlrau'n/' — [o ]aqm bic SBeifen unb fouf^cn. 
 
 "<^o(;le S;aufcl;ung iiur ift fte, cin 'Xxua^ fur ba0 '}iiu}\ 
 XXnwciijr , cf)ne ©el^alt, bcv <5c()attcn i^on einem Scljatten • — " 
 
 'S iji fc'in SSunber; bie ^elt ij! ja erfd^affen au0 ntc{)tg. 
 
 Ififlt, 25. 9loV. 1852. 
 
 Man rooks lip to the sky, and sees plainly the siin 
 From the East to the West his immense journey nin: 
 Man looks down to the gTonnd, and sees plainly it 's si 
 He feels it — it 's steady, deny it who will. 
 
 Upon his own inward self man casts his view, 
 And distinctly a w^ill sees to do or not do, 
 Distinctly a will feels unfettered and free; 
 Deny it who will, a free agent is he. 
 
 VIENNA, Nov. 8. 1852. 
 
 THE PRECEDIN(i TRANSLATED INTO GERMAN RY R. (\M^NE];i. 
 
 ^immcDudrtS flicft bcr SO^enfd) unb ftobt it)a(;v(;afti(^ bie Sonne 
 
 (^el)cn iKMt Oft wad) Soft ben unevmc|Tncf;en ©aniV' 
 ^licfenb jur (£rbe, geiDal;rt cr biefe lu^flfommen in dlnhc , 
 
 ^utyit'S, brt|l fic ftiffe ftcijt — mag e^3 i^erneinen iuer w'lUl 
 Hnb in fein 3i^it'veS Ijinah ijerfenfenb bie $^licfe, (\an^ beutfid) 
 
 (Sine 2BilIen^fraft ftef;t er juui 2affen unb Xfnin; 
 !J)eutIic{; ben SBitten fiV()It er, ben feffellofen unb freien; — 
 
 OJ?ag cS i^erneiucn, \uer wiiil — felbfttbatiii l)anbelt t^er iWenfd>. 
 
 Wen, 2<). 9iov. 1H52. 
 
UNCERTAINTY. 
 
 For the Certain and Siire let philosophers seek; 
 
 Oh! give me Uncertainty, ere my heart break. 
 
 Sure and certain 's tlie past, but it 's all dead and cold; 
 
 The grave has closed over it, and the knell tolled; 
 
 In the future's long- vista what sees my sad eye? 
 
 Nothing sure, nothing certain, but that all must die: 
 
 While with visions of happiness, promise of joys, 
 
 Dear Uncertainty onwards our tired steps decoys. 
 
 In both hands holds out to us long life and health, 
 
 Power, friends, pleasure, honor, and wisdom, and wealtli 
 
 And, clothed in the star-spangled mantle of Faith, 
 
 Triumphantly points through the portals of Death 
 
 To a bright world beyond, where with all we loved ever 
 
 We shall live reunited, to [tart again never. 
 
 For the Certain and Sure let philosophers seek; 
 
 Oh! give me Uncertainty, ere my heart break. 
 
 VIENNA. Nov. 0. 1852. 
 
 C E R T A 1 N T Y. 
 
 Let Uncertainty flatter the timid and weak, 
 
 And Iiire the wretch onward until his heart break; 
 
 1 hate the deceiver and all she can give, 
 
 And away from her tiirn; with thee, Knowledge, to live. 
 
 Though to promise thou 'rt slow, thou art siire to perform, 
 
 With thee sunshine means sunshine, with thee storm means storm. 
 
 Thou art candid and tellest me where thou hast been. 
 
 All thy comings and g-oings, and what thou hast seen; 
 
 Thou art honest and deal'st not in piifT or grimace, 
 
 And hidest no falsehood behind thy plain face; 
 
When thou see'st me away from the multitude liim, 
 
 To weep in despair by the cypress and lirn. 
 
 Thou com'st and with strong- arm away from my side 
 
 Pushest ignorance, selfishness, folly and pride; 
 
 And askest me, if I could, would I the rest 
 
 Everlasting- distiirh of the friends I love best, 
 
 And not rather prefer by their side to be laid, 
 
 In the broad weeping willow and cypress shade, 
 
 Sure and certain that never while time lasts, shall pain, 
 
 Trouble, sickness or sorrow, come near us again. 
 
 VIENNA, Nov. 24. 1852. 
 
 I know not whether it be strength or weakness, 
 
 But 6ft, toward evening-, when all round is still, 
 
 And when that day my mind has not been stirred 
 
 By any of the unholier giists of passion, 
 
 I feel myself in the immediate presence 
 
 Of something awful, yet most fair and lovely. 
 
 And very dear, that, without sign, or action. 
 
 Or speech, communicating freely with me. 
 
 Infuses a sweet peace into my soul, 
 
 And fills it with a sentiment of joy 
 
 And happiness, that lasts till, from without. 
 
 Some sound alarms me, and I start, and find 
 
 The picture of my dead Love in my luind: 
 
 And they that have to do with me, those evenings. 
 
 Observe, for s(3me hours after, in my face. 
 
 And voice, and manner, an angelic air 
 
 Of sweet content, and placid resignation. 
 
 VIENNA, Nov. 17. 1S52. 
 
On that dark, dismal night, which you all may remember, 
 
 Between the eighteenth and nineteenth of November, 
 
 As, the lights all put out and her orisons said, 
 
 Our lady the Queen lay asleep in her bed, 
 
 One arm round Prince Albert, one linder her head, 
 
 It happened — ''What happened?" Nay, don't interrupt — 
 
 A story 's worth nothing that 's told too abrupt — 
 
 The clock in the anteroom jiist had struck "Two!" 
 
 And the cjock on the mantle -piece sworn it was true, 
 
 When the Queen in the arm that lay linder her head 
 
 A sudden cramp felt, and turned round in the bed, 
 
 And from under Prince Albert the other arm drew, 
 
 Who, sound as a top sleeping on, nothing knew 
 
 Of the grim, grisly ghost that on purpose that night 
 
 Rose up out of the grave our loved Queen to affright. 
 
 A blue light in his hand he threw open the door, 
 
 And, with a field -marshal's step crossing the floor, 
 
 Stalked up straight to the bedside, and: — "Madam," he cried, 
 
 "Be so good as to look up, and not your head hide 
 
 Under blanket or quilt: you have seen me before, 
 
 I have lectured you often, and now one word more. 
 
 Next time that that greatest of conquerors. Death, 
 
 Of a conqueror and statesman like me stops the breath, 
 
 And England 's left minus the best of her sons 
 
 At the moment her neighbours are loading their giins, 
 
 It 's all the same whether by fit epileptic, 
 
 Or cannon he 's mowed down, or stroke apoplectic, 
 
 Remember he 's not like a child to be treated, 
 
 And with flipflap and flam and tomfoolery cheated. 
 
 With gilding, and gingerbread -niits, and palaver. 
 
 And mouths running over with twattle and slaver; 
 
lie cares not — what cares he? — for fiineral or pall; 
 
 Who could sh'-ep his last sleep without coflin at all; 
 
 But if you must give him a burial in state, 
 
 And make living pride on dead rottenness wait, 
 
 Then do it in earnest, and not in a sham, 
 
 And stand there chief mourner, my royal Madame." 
 
 ''1 protest I was quite unprepared, my Lord Diike, 
 
 To receive from your Grace's lips siich sharp rehiike; 
 
 But my conscience acquits me. Sans peur sans i'epr()clie, 
 
 Kor 1 sent to attend you my coachman and coach, 
 
 And six spanking- bays; and my AJby today 
 
 From his best Durham's calving- 1 made stay away, 
 
 To do you more h()nor; and out at the shoW' 
 
 Looked myself from the windows of Buckingham R()w; 
 
 A.nd I hope that my people all saw in my eye 
 
 The tear that stood glittering- there as you w^ent by." 
 
 in the Belvedere palace in far distant Wien, 
 
 Mcphistopheles' picture perhaps thou hast seen, 
 
 And marked how, like sparks from electrical wire, 
 
 From ankle and shoestring- leaps forth the blue fire; 
 
 Such fire from the Duke's eyes shot livid and blue. 
 
 As with voice that the Queen's bones and marrow thrilled 
 
 through : — 
 "Words enough, and too many; and so, 'twas for you 
 T won, on the eighteenth of Jiine, ^\'aterl6o! 
 Nay, I know what you 'd say; go to sleep, and remember 
 The eighteenth of June and eighteenth of November." 
 
 He said, shook his head, grinned, and blew out the light. 
 And left the Queen lying there in the dark night. 
 Yet though he was gone, and the room still as death, 
 And no stir to be heard but her own Alby's breatli, 
 The Queen twenty times in the course of that night 
 
Thought the Diikc was still standuig there with liis bhie light, 
 
 Twenty times quilt and bh'uiket drew over her head, 
 
 And twenty times, Ave Maria! had said, 
 
 Had it n()t been for fear what the good Earl Shaftesbury 
 
 And Bishop of Gloster might do in their fiiry. 
 
 When they heard that the head of the Protestant Church 
 
 Had turned Papist, and left all her flock in the lurch. 
 
 So she lay still as might be until the daylight. 
 
 When she woke her dear Alby, and told him her fright. 
 
 He yawned, and half sleeping said, and awake half: — 
 
 ''Have you seen it, dear Vicky? and is 't a fine calf?" 
 
 VIENNA, Nov. 24. 1852. 
 
 THE LOVER AND SUNRISE. 
 
 WUITTEN AFTER RE \DI\G THE "• SONNENAUFG ANG " OF 13. CARNERl. 
 
 'Tis the moment of sunrise the bright and the gay. 
 All nature with rapture salutes the new day. 
 Mists and darkness have fled with the damp night away ; 
 The rose her cup opens, the lark tunes her song. 
 And prattling and laughing the brook trips along. 
 
 What ails the young man wiiom I see passing by? 
 His step why so heavy, so downcast his eye? 
 Willi the night he has bid to his Truelove good bye; 
 The morning to him 's come a century too soon — 
 Set, set, hateful siin, and rise quick, friendly moon. 
 
 VIENNA. Nov. 20. 1852. 
 
''A Bnsserl a-n a - g'sclireckf's, 
 All! (los war' ja a Graus -^ 
 Noil! waiin 's Laut'n vabei is. 
 Aft busselt 's as aus!" 
 
 Skidl. 
 
 A youtli and a maid 
 Sat under the shade 
 Of a wide spreading- beech; 
 I will tell you of each. 
 
 Each was handsome and fair, 
 And had long', flowing- hair, 
 And an innocent heart, 
 Withfjut guile or art. 
 
 Each was timid and shy, 
 And, without knowing- why, 
 Would tremble and sigh 
 When the other came nigli. 
 
 Had it not been tlieir glance 
 Was downcast and askance, 
 You 'd have thought them no othei 
 Than sister and brother. 
 
 As they sat there tog'cther, 
 [n the warm summer weather. 
 Underneath the deep shade, 
 By that spreading- beech made. 
 
How long- they sat so, 
 1 doiiU certainly know; 
 But, witlioLit knowing why, 
 They grew less and less shy, 
 And drew more and more nigh, 
 Till, by some chance or slip. 
 They touched lip to lip. 
 
 Surprised and amazed, 
 At each other they gazed, 
 And half pleased, half afraid, 
 Said the youth to the maid: — 
 
 "And if that be a kiss, 
 'T wouldn't be much amiss. 
 If we tried it again; 
 Doesn't give any pain." 
 
 So they leaned their mouths over 
 Till you couldn't discover, 
 Between the two faces, 
 The breadth of two aces. 
 
 But they hadn't touched quite, 
 When, in sudden affright, 
 Both sprang- back with a start, 
 And stood two feet apart. 
 
 So great a rebound 
 You have seen from the ground 
 Or the side of a wall 
 Seldom made by a ball. 
 
 R3 
 
The two are at pi'dyer; 
 For they 've heard through the air 
 The boom of the bell 
 All g-ood Christians know we'll, 
 
 And "Hail Mary!" siing- 
 By the great iron tongue, 
 Warns to turn thought and eye 
 From the earth to the sky. 
 
 As two soldiers at drill 
 Ground their arms and stand still, 
 At the word of command; 
 So the youth and maid stand, 
 
 Till the peal has rung out; 
 When, quick turning- about, 
 Says the maid to the youth 
 In all sweetness and truth: — 
 
 "It was never a crime 
 To make up for lost time, 
 And a kiss away frighted 
 Isn't hard to be righted." 
 
 So they turned each to each, 
 In the shade of that beech, 
 And finished their kiss 
 Without ill luck or miss. 
 
 Dec. 2. 1852, oil the way rroiu VIENNA (o PRAtJOl-: 
 
H A L F A N D H A L F. 
 
 "Why arc angels so happy?" sakl one of the least 
 Little boys at the scli(')ol to his iii;ister the priest. 
 "Tliey are i)ure, [)erf'ect Sjjirit, my i)ruinisiiig boy; 
 Of piire, perfect spirit perpetual the joy." 
 
 ''But beasts are all body, yet they 're happy too; 
 Calves, kittens and lambs, all declare 1 speak triie." 
 "Just because they 're all body, tliey 're happy and gay, 
 Just because they 're all body, they sport all the day." 
 
 "But I am unhappy, and cry half the day, 
 Though 1 am both body and spirit you say. 
 And should therefore be twice as happy at least 
 As bodiless angel, or spiritless beast." 
 
 "You don't work the sum right," with a smile said tlie priest 
 "To be twice as happy as angel or beast 
 You must be both all body and all spiiil too: 
 Try it uver again; your first offer won't do." 
 
 '•One half of me 's spirit — yes, nuw 1 am right — 
 And entitled to une half the angel's delight; 
 And one half of me 's body, and should have at least 
 One half the delight of the perishing beast: 
 
 "Two halves make one whule u[»; and so — let me see -— 
 
 Once as happy as angel or beast 1 should be; 
 
 And yet 1 'm unha[)i)y, and cry half the day : 
 
 What 's the reason, good master? do tell me, 1 pray." 
 
 B4 
 
"Before you 're as happy as angel or beast, 
 You must all spirit be, or all body at least; 
 All spirit 's the angel, all body the calf; 
 But you 're one half spirit, and body one half." 
 
 "Ah, why did God give me, unfortunate boy! 
 
 A being he well knew 1 could not enjoy? 
 
 Ah, why did he so mix me lip half and half. 
 
 And not make me whole angel at once, or whole calf?" 
 
 "'Twere a fine story that," said the priest to the boy, 
 "To make urchins like you to have nothing but joy, 
 As perfect, as happy, as angel or beast; 
 No lessons, no floggings, no work for the priest. 
 
 " I 'II teach you — your hand out — one, two, three and four 
 Begone now, and drop down behind the school door 
 Upon your bare knees, with your face to the wall. 
 And pray to that God who so good is to all, 
 
 "To drive Satan's whisperings out of your head, 
 And fill you with pious and good thoughts instead; 
 And then get your lessons, and then go and play; 
 You 're well off if you get any dinner today." 
 
 The boy went and dropped down behind the school door 
 On his bare knees, and prayed as he 'd 6ft prayed before: 
 "Dear God, do but make me an angel or calf, 
 Some one thing or other, and not half and half." 
 
 DKJiSDEN, Jan. 3. 1853. 
 
Earth's mightiest Queen thr('»ne(] sits in high hall of state, 
 To salute her, come cr<)\v(]iim-. tlie rich and tlie great, 
 Her l(»rds and her ladies on either side stand, 
 Peers, bishops, and commons, the elite of the land. 
 
 Coach sets down after coach at the great Northern door, 
 Till you 'd say that for cthnpany there was no more 
 R()om in the salon or ]'(')om in the hall. 
 Or room any where in the palace at (ill. 
 
 'Tis a brilliant reception; look near or look far, 
 The diamond cross blazes, the aigrette, and star; 
 Feathers wave, satins riistle, and ])eaiity and grace 
 Condescendingly smile on red coats and gold l.-'ice. 
 
 "Now, Gentleman -lisher. what is it you mean?" 
 With a start and a frown it was thiis said the Queen; - 
 "Had you orders from me to make royalty wait 
 In the midst of the rabble, outside the court gate?'" 
 
 "Please your Majesty,'" then said the Usher in black; — 
 "She is st.irk mother naked, no shred to her back, 
 No carriage, no horses, no footmen, she stands 
 In the hooting crowj's midst — Shall I have your commands 
 
"Let my robing maids for her a white mantle choose, 
 The best in my wardrobe, white stockings, white slioes, 
 And a white skirt of satin, with blond trimmed all round, 
 And three ladies to hold up her train from the ground." 
 
 "A fiill blown white rose let her bear in left hand, 
 And put into her right a long white lily wand, 
 Let a white veil envelop her shoulders and head, 
 And so let her enter. Begone! 1 have said." 
 
 The Gentleman -lisher the Queen's commands bears: — 
 "Clear the way , clear the way thci-e, on lobby and staire 
 For the great foreign Princess, arrayed all in white." 
 Lords and ladies fall back in two files left and right. 
 
 And every eye tiirns, as, arrayed all in wiiite, 
 A white rose in her left hand, white lily in right, 
 Walks up straight to the Queen that veiled lady unknown , 
 And sinks down on one knee at the foot of the throne: — 
 
 "Rise lip, royal sister, for never to me 
 Shall my father's child sue upon low bended knee. 
 Rise lip, throw your veil back, and let all here see 
 How I love my dear sister, and how she loves me." 
 
 "Mighty Queen"— it was thiis to Queen Falsehood Truth said, 
 As she rose, and threw back the white veil from her head : — 
 "Fear not, mighty Queen, 1 am come here tonight, 
 To claim with an ill-timed petition my right; 
 
 "Fixed and settled far be it from me to undo; 
 The world has decided between me and you; 
 With me it has vowed 'twill have nothing to do, 
 And for Queen with unanimous voice chosen ycki. 
 
"Live long- and reign happy; but, grant me one boon; 
 
 And remember that 's granted twice that 's granted soon: — " 
 
 "I pledge you my royal troth, sister, before 
 
 All these lords and these ladies; what need I say more?" 
 
 ''Send forth, then, your heralds, and let them proclaim 
 That to every thing henceforth be giveji its own name, 
 Good henceforth be good called, and bad be called bad, 
 White be wiiite, and black black called, wise wise, and mad mad 
 
 Then Queen Falsehood turned pale, and from head to foot shook: 
 And cowered, and shrank back before Truth's steadfast look. 
 And wished in the gaping earth siink were that hall, 
 Herself and her sister; lords, ladies and all. 
 
 "A doctor, a doctor; what can the Queen ail? 
 AVhat makes our loved lady and mistress so pale?" 
 "Help! help!" is the cry; "Queen Truth 's sick unto death; 
 Air, water, a fan here — yes, now she draws breath. 
 
 "And who 's this impostor, dressed out in her clothes. 
 With the Queen's own white lily, and Queen's own white rose? 
 Hah I Hcih! it's that vagabond Falsehood that here 
 In Truth's own royal hall 's not ashamed to appear. 
 
 "Tear her false emljlems from her, the clothes off her back; 
 And out of doors tiirn her, pinched and cuffed blue and bhick 
 We '11 teach her, the strumpet, what b()on waits her here. 
 In this presence again if she dare to appear." 
 
 So they fell upon Truth there, lords, ladies, and all; 
 And kicked her, and cuffed her about the great luill; 
 Under foot trod her emblems , her dress and hair tore, 
 And spat twice in her face each, then through the street doo: 
 
Piislicd her <)ut to the iii(»!>, wiio the whole city tliroiigh 
 Pursued lier witli st()nes, <lirt. and mad-doi; halloo; 
 And threw i'(Uten eiius ;')t her wherever she fk'd , 
 And thought nothin.u dfuie till tliey left her for dead. 
 
 To (jueen Falsehood meantime has returned the free hre.-itli. 
 And the blood to her clieeks that were jiist now like death. 
 And:^ — ■ ^'I thank you, my hjrds and my ladies, " she cried, 
 "For this pr<')of that 1 've not without reason relied 
 
 "On your loyal attachment to me and my throne, 
 And that at your hearts you 've Ti'uth's interests ahuic. 
 My unf()rtunate sister — ■ But n(), Fil not shame 
 The bl()od of my sire by pronouncin.i*- lier name — 
 
 "Detest her; or. if you can, ])loi; her out quite 
 From y(Hir memory, and with her the events of tonii;ht. 
 And n()w cry, 'Long live Truth, and huig may she reign.'" 
 And they cried, "Long live Triith", till the h;ill rang: again. 
 
 DRKSDKN. .i.'iii. s. \s:u\. 
 
Past twelve at night; upon my bed 
 
 1 lay once more my nightcapped head, 
 
 Stretch out my lazy limbs to rest, 
 
 And draw the clothes tight round my breast. 
 
 The lights are out; no biisy feet 
 
 Disturb the silence of the street; 
 
 Even the late Idtchenmaid to scour 
 
 Has ceased, and snatches her brief hour. 
 
 In the whole neighbourhood there 's none 
 
 Still waking biit myself alone — 
 
 "And why don't you sleep, Sir, I pray? 
 
 Have you dozed by the fire all day? 
 
 Or have you driink gunpowder tea? 
 
 Or are you making poetry? 
 
 Or is your conscience sin -oppressed, 
 
 That you can't like your neighbours rest?" 
 
 Jiist as you please — perhaps all four; 
 
 But one thing 's sure, two hours or more 
 
 Here on my bed I tiirn and toss, 
 
 Now lying along, and now across, 
 
 And now diagonal, for my head 
 
 Seeking a cool place — • all in vain — 
 
 Lively and active is my brain. 
 
 And , will - 1 nill - 1 , stays awake — 
 
 What can I better do than take 
 
 A turn out of her for a rhyme? 
 
 'Twill help to while away the time. 
 
 The subject? Self — stay, let me see — 
 
 My own sweet self's biography. 
 
 It can't but please — myself at least; . 
 
 Self is for self always a feast. 
 
with the whole world though Byron (iiuirellod , 
 
 lie still kept iriends with dear Childc ll;irold ; 
 
 And Wordsworth ceases t() be diill 
 
 When on the pivot of his skiill 
 
 Sir Ass turns round his long, left ear, 
 
 And brays his bray out, loud and clear. 
 
 Worthy examples! the reward 
 
 Tempting- they hold out to the bard 
 
 To follow in the brilliant wake, 
 
 And for his hero himself take. 
 
 An hour before the siin this morn 
 Naked and hungry ] was born. 
 Against my will dragg-ed out of night, 
 And forced into the noise and lii^ht. 
 
 Well 1 remember how I moaned, 
 
 And rubbed my eyes, and stretched and groaned, 
 
 And shrunk and shivered from the cold 
 
 E!re 1 was yet one minute old. 
 
 Well J remember the grim band 
 
 Of Cares 1 saw about me stand 
 
 Eager to pounce upun Lhcir [)rey, 
 
 And plague and pinch me the whole day. 
 
 Aloud one to a comrade cried: — 
 
 "See what a greasy, dirty hide; 
 
 Gallons of water on him dash — 
 
 Another jug- here — splash — splash - s[)kish." 
 
 "Well done! well done!" the other said; 
 "Now rub him till he 's raw and red. 
 Tiiou with a hempen cloth rub, nib, 
 While I with stifT pig's bristles scrub." 
 
"Don't kill him outright," said a third; 
 It 's my turn now;'' and, with the word, 
 Came up behind me by surprise, 
 And slipped over my head and eyes 
 
 A bag at both ends open wide, 
 And tight- the upper opening tied 
 About my throat, and laughed to see 
 It reached scarce hall" way to the knee. 
 
 "The mending of that fault," with glee 
 Giggled another, "leave to me. 
 Here I 've got something like a Y 
 Turned topsy tiirvy; come. Sir, try: 
 
 Your right leg first — there — piish it throng] 
 Your left leg now; yes, that will do. 
 Now stand up straight, till you are braced 
 Over both shoulders, tight round waist." 
 
 "Right about face" then all cried out; 
 And then all shouted "Left about"; 
 Then through the chamber to and fro 
 They made me pace three tiirns or so, 
 
 And vowed that I looked jimmy quite, 
 And the Y not a hair too tight. 
 And, let me sit down when or where 
 1 pleased, would neither biirst nor tear. 
 
 "But stay — see here — " another said; 
 "AVhat is 't 's the matter with his head? 
 There 's not a hair but 's on an end; 
 Where did you this great mop get, friend? 
 
"Racks, shears and toothcombs here; sit down 
 With such a shag-gy, shockdog crown 
 Who but some rustic, clodpoll clown 
 Would think of venturinir into town? 
 
 'D 
 
 "There; you beg-in upon the right. 
 And 1 '11 the left take; what a fright! 
 Was ever head in siich a pHght! 
 Some cow 's been licking- it all night!" 
 
 "In vain we lose our sweat and toil, 
 And break our combs' teeth; oil here, oil; 
 If we can't make his hair lie straight, 
 We '11 give him at least a frizzled pate. 
 
 "The tongs here; are you siire they 're hot? 
 Steady, Sir, steady; not a jot 
 Either to left or right hand biidge : 
 Bravo! you 'd make a capital judge. 
 
 "Hotter tongs here; another twirl; 
 
 This lock must have a stiffer ciirl — 
 
 What makes you fidge, Sir?" "Oh! ma'am, Oli 
 
 Gently; you biirn me — " "Dear Sir, no. 
 
 "You miist wear papers if you won't 
 
 A little heat bear — " "'Sblood, ma'am, don't; 
 
 1 'm not a stock or stone my hair 
 
 Out by the roots to let you tear." 
 
 iswr/s) "The Miises that Hyperion curl 
 Not half so deftly the tongs twirl , 
 
 And Dian's maids with hands less light 
 
 Wreath the locks of the Queen of night." 
 
'' Hell's Fiiries, Madam! Stop, I say — 
 I 11 not be treated in this way." 
 "It 's done, Sir, now; and in this world 
 There 's not a periwig- better ciirled." 
 
 In joy I jumped up and delight; 
 But two of them with strong arms- tight 
 Caught me, and forced me down again, 
 And told me it was all in vain, 
 
 I could not, and I should not, go, 
 To be a laughing stock and show 
 With that black stubble on my chin: — 
 "Submit with grace, and let 's begin." 
 
 They took a large white tablecloth. 
 And spread it on me; covering both 
 Shoulders and body, legs and feet; 
 And its two corners drew in neat, 
 
 And with a monstrous corking pin 
 Fastened behind me; then my chin, 
 And both cheeks quite up to the eyes, 
 One of them with a thick soap size 
 
 Lathered all over, while her friend, 
 Catching me by the nose's end, 
 Held my face straight up toward the light, 
 And fell to scraping left and right, 
 And never drew breath till she 'd quite 
 Swept away clean , from cheeks and chin. 
 Lather and bristles and some skin. 
 
 I know not whether 'twas the pain 
 Of so much scraping, or a grain 
 
 D3 
 
Of soap into my nose that got, 
 
 Or that the razor was too hot, 
 
 Or that it was not hot enough, 
 
 But never yet mixed Liindy snuff 
 
 That so convulsed the luiman frame: 
 
 Sudden and vast the explosion came; 
 
 "Schnee-itz, schnee-itz" three times I cried, 
 
 "Schnee-ilz" three times the wails replied. 
 
 ''What is 't 's done this?" I would have smd , 
 
 But — "itz — schnee-itz-itz" came instead; 
 
 "Schnee-itz — a handkerchief — schnee-ilz'' — ■ 
 
 "A handkerchief won't stop his fits," 
 
 One of them said — "Schnee-itz, schnee-itz" — 
 
 "Sisters, you 're every one as criiel 
 
 As Priessnilz' self. Get him some griiel — 
 
 You 've given him cold; I '11 not sit by 
 
 And see you chill him till he die — 
 
 Warm whey — warm tea — his other stockint;- -- 
 
 How white his lips, and what a shocking 
 
 Black and blue circle round, each eye! 
 
 Hat, coat and muffler — come. Sir, try, 
 
 ()ver this chair leap, once — twice — thrice — 
 
 Well done! his life 's still on the dice. 
 
 Now round the room run — quicker — quicker - 
 
 One of you bring a drop of liquor — 
 
 Some cdra^oa, or cherry brandy. 
 
 Or lavender drops and sugarcandy. 
 
 He 's growing warm — he 's coming- to — 
 
 Under the eyes he 's far less bliie; 
 
 I think this time perhaps he '11 do 
 
 Without a Doctor — Sir, no fretting-; 
 
 Never was cure yet without sweating-." 
 
 "Ma'am, 1 'm not fretting-; 1 'm lialf dead; 
 
 1 wish you 'd let me go to bed." 
 
"No, by no means: sit by the fire, 
 Drink barley water, and perspire; 
 Receive no visitors; read the news. 
 Or drowsy Wordsworth — which you choose 
 Sleep, if you can." And with the word 
 She took the poker, the lire stirred, 
 Wheeled over to it the elbow clu'iir, 
 Bolstered nie lip, and left me there. 
 
 "Care-easing- Wordsworth, come," 1 said, 
 "Hover somniferous round my head; 
 Dim, darkling-, languid, listless, diill, 
 Essence of nothing, fill me fiill 
 Of thine own self." Scarce had 1 said, ■ 
 And the first Diiddon sonnet read, 
 When niddy noddy went my head, 
 And down my eyelids sank like lead, 
 And 1 fell into a sound sleep, 
 As death itself profound and deep, 
 Placid and dreamless. When I woke 
 'Twas night; the clock was on the stroke 
 Of nine or ten; the house being- still 
 I dozed on over Wordsworth till 
 The fire went out, and 1 grew chill. 
 And went to bed; but could not sleep; 
 And so , my phantasy to keep 
 Amused, and while away the time, 
 I set about to spin this rhyme. 
 And now 1 've spun till dawning light, 
 And a nap 's coming- — so, good night. 
 
 Luettichau-Strasse, DRESDEN, Jan. 14. 1853. 
 
 D4 
 
NOTHING AND HIS SON. 
 
 Nothing-, one morning-, early rose 
 
 Out of his bed, put on his clothes, 
 
 Took hat and stick, and walked out straight, 
 
 Saying, he 'd not be back till late. 
 
 Now whither think'st thou Nothing 's gone? 
 Guess. "No, I can't." To see his son 
 Something, who 's sick and like to die: 
 Make haste, make haste; fly. Nothing, fly. 
 
 Nothing 's in time. Not yet quite dead. 
 Something turned round his heavy head, 
 And, with half glazed and swimming eye, 
 Looked: — ''Heartless sire that iett'st me die!'' 
 
 Nothing unmoved sat; no hand stirred; 
 Helped not his son with look or word; 
 Like stock or stone sat, till he died, 
 And not even then shed tear, or sished. 
 
 *D' 
 
 Some say he never loved his son, 
 Some say the son was not his own, 
 And some declare and vow 'tis triie 
 That Nothing his own ofl'spring slew, 
 
 A poisonous dose gave him each day 
 Slowly to eat his life away. 
 And, on the morning Something died, 
 Was seen, when leaving the bedside, 
 
The useless dose away to throw 
 Into the fire. It nuiy be so, 
 Or it may not, for aug-ht I know — 
 Strange things have happened long- ago 
 
 Biit, the son dead, and the day spent, 
 Nothing returned the way he went, 
 Opened with latchkey the back g"ate, 
 And sat up in his stiidy late; 
 
 When, growing tired, he went to bed, 
 And slept sound till the morning red; 
 Then rose, put on his siirtout warm, 
 And sauntered out to view his farm. 
 
 VVaisenhaus-Strasse, DRESDEN, May 9. 1853. 
 
 INSCRIPTION ON THE GATE OF HELL. 
 
 Those enter here by God's command 
 Whom God made so they could not stand; 
 For ever here they lie in pain — 
 God's will be done! amen, amen. 
 
 INSCRIPTION ON THE GATE OF HEAVEN. 
 
 Free entrance through this gate for all 
 Whom God made so they could not fall; 
 For ever here in joy they dwell, 
 And think upon dear friends in hell. 
 
 Waisenhaus-Strasse, DRESDEN, May 18. 1853. 
 
TO S E L T X A. 
 
 As tlio rose among,- llowers 
 S(^ art tlitWi ninong- women ; 
 As llic moon in llie luuivens, 
 So art di()U amoni;- \v(tmeo. 
 
 As the diamond among pcai'iN. 
 So art thou ^imong waunen; 
 As the vine among olives. 
 So art thou anaong women. 
 
 As the pine in the I'(»rest; 
 
 So art thou among- women ; 
 
 As the Wliite Mount among Al[»b,. 
 
 So art thou among- women. 
 
 As Eden among- gardens, 
 So art thou among women; 
 As Erin among- islands, 
 So art tliou among- wanmai. 
 
 As thy voice amid nuisie, 
 So art thou among women ; 
 As my love to others' love. 
 So art thou among women. 
 
 l.owF.R Buckingham -STREET, DIIIUJN, Juh 22. 182:^ 
 
TO MISS SHERIDAN, 
 
 0^ HER HAVING MADE COFFEE FOR THE AUTHoR THE 
 PRECEDING EVENING; 
 
 romjxjsec/ ihc following Morning while breakft/.^ting alone. 
 
 Your colTee it was very strong-, Jjriglit-eyed Miss Sheiid;)!), 
 And like a subtile spirit through all my vehis it ran , 
 .^Faking- me" feel more like a god than a mortal man, 
 As 1 sat on the sofa beside you, bright- eyed Miss Sheridan. 
 
 Your coffee it was very sweet, silken -haired Miss Sheridan, 
 Far sweeter than the famous h(jney that once flowed in Canaan, 
 Or the nectar quaffed of yore in celestial divan, 
 And no wonder, for it was you made it, silken-haired Miss Sheridan. 
 
 Your cofTee it was very hot, linnet- voiced Miss Sheridan. 
 
 And warmed the heart's cockles of a chilly old man, 
 
 Sending him home to bed warmer than if he had had a 
 
 w'arming-pan, 
 To think of nothing- but you all night, linnet-voiced Miss Sheridtn. 
 
 Your cofTec w\as more fragrant, ruby -lipped Miss Sheridan. 
 Than luiu de Millefleurs or Par f am cle Jasmin, 
 Or any perfume ever thought of since the world beg-an, 
 Except the perfume of your own sweet breath, ruby- lipped 
 
 Miss Sheridan. 
 
 The coffee I have this morning-, lily- armed Miss Sheridan, 
 Is as different from last night's as Drogheda from Japan , 
 
 E u 
 
Or the coarsest sole -leather from the finest cordovan, 
 Just because you are not here to make it, lily -armed Miss 
 
 Sheridan. 
 
 My toast is burnt to a cinder, rosy-fing-ered Miss Sheridan, 
 
 My butter is only fit to be put into the frying-pan, 
 
 And my milk would water the garden, if it were poured through 
 
 the watering-can — 
 How could it be otherwise, when you are far away from me, 
 
 rosy -fingered Miss Sheridan? 
 
 Essy* tells me it's a sunny morning, kind-hearted Miss Sheridan, 
 And wonders why 1 look as grave as a Brahmin or Musselman, 
 But she little dreams 1 am thinking of you and your coffee-can — ■ 
 Oh ! when will you make coffee for me again, kind-hearted Miss 
 
 Sheridan? 
 
 FiTZWiLLiAM-souARF, . DUBLIN, Maicli 14. 1841. 
 
 TO MISS SHERIDAN, 
 
 ON HER HAVING PRESENTED THE AUTHOR WITH A PIECE or 
 GRIDDLE- CAKE. 
 
 The cake you sent me was detestable 
 
 And perfectly indigestible; 
 
 I never tasted anything so abominable; 
 
 Its smell was intolerable, 
 
 And its very look was horrible. 
 
 It was as hard as a piece of maple, 
 
 As tough as a ship's cable, 
 
 * The author's maid, celebrated also iu *' Verses on a Cjriddle-Cake. 
 
As black as a miifl' of sable, 
 
 As old as the Tower of Babcl, 
 
 And as ligly and sharp -cornered as the gable 
 
 Of Mr. Pennefather's stable. 
 
 To swallow a second bit of it I wasn't able; 
 
 So I told Essy to take it ofT the table. 
 
 I would rather have eaten a police- constable, 
 
 Or a straws bonnet from Dunstable, 
 
 Or any other combustible. 
 
 You must have taken me for a cannibal, 
 
 Or some such ravenous animal, 
 
 Or the father of young- Hannibal, 
 
 To whom all filling stufT is palatable, 
 
 And who can digest a black bottle or a rebel 
 
 As easy as a barn-door fowl a pebble. 
 
 Ever since 1 tasted your cake I have been miserable, 
 
 With appetite inconsiderable, 
 
 Sick, giddy, and irritable, 
 
 Shivering, quivering, and to stand unable, 
 
 Desponding, inconsolable, 
 
 With head -ache uncontrollable. 
 
 And stomach-ache deplorable. 
 
 My condition 's unendurable, 
 
 My life 's uninsurable. 
 
 And, what 's worse, I 'm incurable, 
 
 For the doctor, who you know^ 's infallible, 
 
 Says the case is most lamentable, 
 
 And the symptoms so formidable 
 
 That it 's morally impossible — 
 
 Oh dear! oh dear I 1 wish 1 'd made my will; 
 
 Oh, cruel, criiel fate, inexorable! 
 
 Why doesn't somebody bring in a Bill 
 
 To put a stop to baking cakes upon a griddle? 
 
 E 3 
 
But then to meet my dealli from such a Ijelle, 
 
 So graceful and agreeable — 
 
 It 's lUterly hiconceivable, 
 
 And the whole story, from beginniui; to end, nevei'-l)elievc-a-l)el!e 
 
 FiTZWiLi.iAM- SQUARE, DUBLIN, Maicli 10. 1841. 
 
 THE DEVIL AND 0\VEN ' C N N E L L \% 
 
 OR 
 
 THE NEW IRISH CHANCELLOR. 
 
 It was in an Irish churchyard where the bones were lying- bare, 
 The Devil walked out one morning to take a uKuithful of fresh ;ur, 
 And as he was musing upon a heap of skulls, the thought 
 
 occurred to him suddenly, 
 "It was somewhere near this spot," says he, "they buried the 
 
 famous Owen O'Connelly."* 
 
 Then taking up the skiills one by one, and examining them 
 
 phrenologically, 
 It was not long before the Devil found out the skull of hinious 
 
 Owen O'Connelly; 
 And having contemplated it some time with an air th()uglitiul 
 
 and melancholy, 
 He piit it in his coa* pocket, saying, "I 'II make a man of you 
 
 again, my hUthful Owen OTonnelly." 
 
 * Sec Sir John Templf's History oi" the Irish llchclHon. 
 
 "Lord Maguirc and sdiuc oIIkts of tiu: nubility wme ai)pointed to head 
 the attack upon Dublin. The plot however was betrayed the preceding- day 
 by his servant Owen O'Connelly." — IM'Geoghegan's Illslunj of Ireland. 
 
So the Devil took the skull hotjie witli liiiu, and as it hikln't a 
 
 morsel of hair, 
 Clapped an old Ijrown scr;Ueh of his own on the t()p of it, to 
 
 i^ive it a janty ;iir; 
 Then lie stiiek a face in IVont of it, broad, in)])udenl, and leerin;^, 
 With a mouth as mealy and servile, as the brow was jn'ond 
 
 and domineering". 
 
 Next he stiifTed the skull inside with the brains of a lawyej*, 
 And set it upon a pair of shoulders he had made for a sawyer; 
 And having Ijalanced it below with a tail that was long and flexible, 
 He turned the ereature round three tiiues, and vowed he luoked 
 
 quite respe(*tabie; 
 Then putting- a pipe in his mouth, and giving him a basin of 
 
 S()ap and holy water, 
 He says, "Counsellor O'Connelly, go and blow biibl)les for the 
 
 people to run ;ifter." 
 
 llie C<)unsellor he blew the bubbles just as the Devil (U'dered iiim, 
 JJIaek and white, green and yellow, thi('k and thin, great and 
 
 small, all sorts o' them. 
 The Devil lie stood by, and ehristened every bubble before it 
 
 left the basin , 
 -Vnd the largest green and yellow one he called Catholic 
 
 Emanci[)ation. 
 -•C(junsellor," says the Devil, ''this t^i'can and yellow bulible 
 
 pleases me lo my heart's content; 
 II 's jii^l ihe tool I 've been looking lor, Lo |)ull down the 
 
 Proleslant KsLablishiiient; 
 And the least I can give you for it, is a per[)elual seat in the 
 
 Imperial Parliament." 
 
His success and the Devil's praise made Counsellor O'Connelly 
 
 bolder, 
 And he blew a bubble lip like a balloon, that startled every beholder; 
 The Devil, when he saw it, gave a shout that was heard as far as hell, 
 And sig-ning" it with the sign of the cross, he christened it 
 
 The Repeal. 
 
 Then clapping- the Counsehor on the back, he says: — ''My 
 
 apprentice clever, 
 
 You have only to keep this bubble up, and your fortune 's 
 
 made for ever; 
 
 Under my direction and management, it will yield you an 
 
 income clear, 
 
 After deducting- all expenses, of ten thousand pounds a year." 
 
 "That 's just half my calculation," says Counsellor O'Connelly, 
 
 looking- innocent; 
 "If the Repeal 's worth one penny, it 's worth double that rent; 
 But be it less or more I am ready to sell you the whole of it. 
 Both the Rent and the Repeal, both the body and the soul of it." 
 
 " That 's no more than 1 expected from the blood of an O'Connelly, 
 But you haven't named your price yet," says the Devil, looking- 
 
 solemnly. 
 "There 's the Irish chancellorship," says the Counsellor; "it 's 
 
 in the Devil's gift — 
 Ileie 's the Rent and the Repeal, — and you owe your friend a lift." 
 
 "It 's a bargain," says the Devil, "and you won't have long to wait, 
 For 1 was talking- with Old Hannibal ye:ftcj-day, and he 's biit in 
 
 a crazy state. 
 
He 's a dainty bit 1 have been nursings ever since the day of 
 
 Enimett's trial, 
 x^nd I have no compunction in taking- him now, after so loni^- 
 
 a self-denial." 
 "It 's a bargain," says the Counsellor, with this clear meaning- 
 
 and intent, 
 That the moment I 'm Lord Chancellor, the Devil may take 
 
 Ilepeal and Rent." 
 
 Then the Devil and the Counsellor shook hands, and called each 
 
 other, brother, 
 
 Each revolving- in his own mind how he best might cheat the other; 
 
 And then going- backwards, with great politeness, that neither 
 
 might see the other's tail, 
 
 They separated until the next day, crying- "Hurra for THE 
 
 repeal:" 
 
 FlTZWILLIAM- SQUARE, DUBLIN, 
 
 THE POOR-LAW GUARDLVNVS SONG. 
 
 Says Poor-law Guardian Robbery 
 To Poor-law Guardian Charity: — 
 <'What if you and 1 should agree 
 To rob our neighbour Industry^ 
 And divide his ill-gotten property, 
 Among our dear children ttiree, 
 Improvidence, Sloth, and Reggary?" 
 
 Says Poor-law Guardian Charity 
 To Poor-law Guardian Robbery: 
 "I like your proposal mightily; 
 
 E 5 
 
1 always had an antipathy 
 
 To that sturdy fellow Industry; 
 
 He 's quite too independent for nie; 
 
 So robljcd and plundered he shall he. 
 
 And his goods divided among- our cliildi'en thiee 
 
 !n)|)r6vidence, Sloth, and Beggary." 
 
 Says P()or-law Guardian Rohljery 
 
 To Poor-law Guardian Charity: — 
 
 "1 ejinnot express my joy to see 
 
 How ready you arc to combine with me 
 
 Against our common enemy. 
 
 That stickler for the rights of property, 
 
 That foe to ^General Commimi(y\ — 
 
 Stubborn, uncompromising Industry, 
 
 So robbed and pliiudered he shall be, 
 
 And his goods divided among our childi'en Ihrc'C. 
 
 hnprovidence, Sloth, and Beggary." 
 
 "Wc had better proceed cautiously,'' 
 Says Poor-law Gu;irdian Charity, 
 "For a powerful fellow is Industry, 
 And his house he '11 defend manfully. 
 With the help of his watch-dog Honesty; 
 But robbed and plundered he nuist be, 
 Or what will become of our children three, 
 Improvidence, Sloth, and Beggary?" 
 
 "J 've a crow-l)ar," says Robbery; 
 
 "Six -hundred and eight and fifty 
 
 Jobbing smiths fuj-ged it for me, 
 
 And 1 call it my Legality; 
 
 it will break in his d()or though strong il be, 
 
 And knock out the brains of his doi; Ihtiieslv." 
 
"And wlu'n wc arc in," says Charity, 
 "Wo Ml ))intl hand and foot Master Industry, 
 With this r(»]JC of injustice and cruelty, 
 Which PiibHc Opinion has lent to nie , 
 And we 'II seize upon all his pr()perty, 
 And divide it anions our dear cliildren three, 
 lnipr(h'idence, Sl(itli, and Beggary." 
 
 Then away went the Guardians in c6nii)any, 
 And a pleasanter sight you could not see 
 Tlian Robbery linked with Charity. 
 And they took the crow-bar Legality, 
 And the rope of injustice and cruelty, 
 And broke open the door of Industry. 
 And knocked out the brains of his dog- Honesty, 
 And bound himself like a thief for the gallows-tree 
 And blinded his eyes that he might not see, 
 While they plundered his house of his propei ty, 
 To divide among- their dear children three, 
 lm[)r6vidence, Sloth, and Beggaiy. 
 
 FiTZWiLLiAM-souARE, DUIUJN, Aprils. 1841. 
 
 SE.\T TO SELINA ON IIER BIRTH-DAY, WITIJ 
 A BASKET OF CHERRIES. 
 
 Cherries fresh, and cherries fair! 
 Prettier cherries never were; 
 Great grand -daughters, every one, 
 Of that famous cherry-stone 
 By Luciillus brought, you know, 
 More than two th(')usand years ag(), 
 
From its Mithridntic home 
 in old Pontus, to new Rome, 
 And planted in his villa there, 
 And cherished, an exotic rare, 
 Till it bore its bldshing- beri'ies , 
 And Romans eal desserts of cherries. 
 
 Cherries fresh, and cherries fair! 
 Lovelier cherries never were; 
 Blood -red as pomegranate flower, 
 Or fuchsia pendent from the bower 
 Where Mars met Venus at high noon, 
 And whispered, Vulcan was a loon. 
 
 Cherries fresh, and cherries fair! 
 
 Juicier cherries never w^ere; 
 
 Melting sweet as apricot, 
 
 Or citron pear, or bergamot. 
 
 Or downy peach, or nectarine, 
 
 Or green gage, of fruits the queen; 
 
 Or the amber dew bees sip 
 
 From flowering lindens, when they di'ip 
 
 Fragrant showers in hot July, 
 
 Under the flaring southern sky. 
 
 And every floweret is alive, 
 
 And the whole tree 's one buzzing hive. 
 
 Cherries fresh, and cherries fair! 
 Riper cherries never were: 
 Will ye of my cherries share? 
 Pulled this morning wet with dew, 
 With mine own hand pulled for you, 
 Packed with leaves in basket neat. 
 And sent you for your birth- day treat. 
 
Birth -days many may you see, 
 As cherries on my cherry tree, 
 And every birth -day happier be; 
 Me loving- more, more loved by me; 
 Untouched still by blight or blast, 
 Sweetening-, ripening-, till at hist, 
 Dropping noiseless from the tree, 
 You 're gathered to eternity. 
 
 Dalkey Lodge, DALKEY, June 20. 1841, 
 
 WORDSWORTH'S HORSE. 
 
 W^ill Wordsworth was a steady man. 
 
 That lived near Ambleside, 
 And miich he longed to have a horse, 
 
 Which he might easy ride. 
 
 It chanced one day a horse came by, 
 
 Of piire Arabian breed, 
 Gentle though proud, and strong of limb 
 
 It was a g-allant steed! 
 
 Full many a noble rider bold 
 This gallant steed had borne; 
 
 And every one upon his brow 
 The laurel wreath had worn. 
 
 Those noble riders dead and gone, 
 
 And in the cold earth laid, 
 The g-allant steed by Wordsworth's door 
 
 Without an owner strayed. 
 
 Et 
 
No more ado; llio .steed is caught; 
 
 Upon him "VVordswoi'tli gets; 
 The generous courser paws and rears. 
 
 And 'gaii^st the bridle frets. 
 
 "He 's too high -mettled," Wordsworth s;iys 
 
 "And shakes me in my seat; 
 lie must be balled, and drenched, and bled, 
 
 And get much less to*eat." 
 
 So balled, and drenched, and bled he was^ 
 
 And put on lower diet; 
 And Wordsworth with delight observed 
 
 Him grow each day more quiet. 
 
 And first he took from him his oats, 
 
 And then he took his hay; 
 Until at hist he fed him on 
 
 A single straw a day. 
 
 What happened next to this poor st('ed 
 There 's not a child but knows; 
 
 Death closed his eyes, as 1 my song, 
 And ended all his woes. 
 
 And on a stone, near Rydal Mount, 
 These w^ords are phiin to see: — 
 
 "Here lie the bones of that famed steed. 
 High -mettled Poesy." 
 
 FiTZwnxiAM- SQUARE, DUBLIN, April, 18-10. 
 
WOIU)SWOHTU AM) THE P[G. 
 
 Wordsworth walked once nviw Amldesido . 
 
 LT[)('tii a suiinucr's day, 
 And, upward gazing-, struck his lyre 
 
 To this majestic lay: — 
 
 "Tliere 's poetry in every tiling-, 
 
 In small as well as big" — ■ 
 But jiist as he iiad got so far, 
 
 He trcWl upon a pig-. 
 
 "Hijorchl" quoth the pig, with such a griint, 
 
 As you might well excuse, 
 If ever you had seen the nails 
 
 In the great poet's shoes. 
 
 ''Hoorch!" quoth the poet, "there it is. 
 
 As plain as plain can be; 
 Even in this pig's grunt I do hear- 
 
 The v()ice of poetry. 
 
 "There 's poetry in every thing-, 
 
 In small as well as big-; 
 In Goody Blake and Harry Gill, 
 
 And in this grunting- pig:. 
 
 "There \s poetr-y in every thing- 
 
 We hear, or see, or smell; 
 You have it here in 'h()orch! hoorch! h()orch! 
 
 And there in Peter Bell. 
 
"For poetry 's but natural thought 
 In natural sounds expressed, 
 
 And that which hath the least of art 
 The truest is and best. 
 
 "Of poets, therefore, we 're the first. 
 
 Thou gTiinting- pig- and 1; 
 For where 's the poet that with lis 
 
 In artlessness can vie?" 
 
 Elate he said: then onward passed, 
 And bade the pig adieii; 
 
 And then his lyre he slriick again, 
 And sang' with rapture new: — 
 
 "There 's poetry in every thing-, 
 
 In small as well as big; 
 In Goody Blake and Harry Gill, 
 
 And in yon grunting pig-." 
 
 FiTZWILLIAM- SQUARE, DUBLIN, Juiic 28. 1842. 
 
 ANSWER TO Mrs. JANE HOPKINS'S INVITATION 
 TO DRINK TEA WITH HER, 
 
 JULY 15, 1842. 
 
 The minute I got 
 Your bit of a note. 
 Says I to my wife: — 
 "My dearest hfe. 
 Will ye or no 
 To aunt Jenny g-6, 
 To-morrow night, 
 At her invite. 
 
To drink your te;i 
 
 In her company?" 
 
 Says my wife to mc: — 
 
 "I can't but agnfe; 
 
 For the offer 's good, 
 
 And 'twould be nide 
 
 To say her no , 
 
 So we will go; 
 
 But what will you 
 
 With Katharine* do?" 
 
 ''She 's not forgot; 
 
 See, here 's the note; 
 
 It 's i and you, 
 
 And Katharine too; 
 
 So say no more, 
 
 For at her door 
 
 We '11 be by eight, 
 
 In spite of fate; 
 
 And you and she 
 
 Will drink your tea, 
 
 And Mrs. Stanley 
 
 Will make coffee 
 
 For the doctor and me; 
 
 And we '11 laugh and chat 
 
 About this and that. 
 
 And happy we '11 be. 
 
 As formerly; 
 
 And I '11 lay you a bet, 
 
 That of the whole set, 
 
 Aunt Jenny will be 
 
 The most merry. 
 
 Though, between you and me 
 
 * The Author's only surviving child. 
 
She 's fourscore urid three; 
 
 And I hear people say, 
 
 She 'U go on the same \\\ay 
 
 Till she 's fivescore. 
 
 Or may -be more, 
 
 And every day. 
 
 Like wine or hay, 
 
 With age improving , 
 
 More loved and loving; 
 
 Will be growing; 
 
 So let 's be going, 
 
 Gay a lid hearty, 
 
 To her party. 
 
 To-morrow night; 
 
 And 1 will write 
 
 To say we '11 knock 
 
 At eight o'clock." 
 
 FiTZWILLIAM- SQUARE, DUBLIN. 
 
 L I N E S 
 
 WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL UNDER A FLATTERING PORTRAIT OF 
 A COUSIN OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 Wonderful artist! what a charming grace 
 Lives in these lines, and plays o'er all this face! 
 These eyes how bright! how rosy red this cheek! 
 And how these lips, half parted, almost speak! 
 IJow this chin dimples! this gold -braided hair 
 How glossy smooth! how small and white this ear! 
 Wonderful artist! that could even to Ellen 
 Give Venus' features, and the air of Helen. 
 
 FiTZWILLIAM-SOUARE, DliliUN, i844. 
 
WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM OF A LADY, 
 
 WHO HAD GIVEN THE AUTHOR, FOR SUBJECT, "A CAPTIVE'S LAMENT 
 FOR THE LOSS OF HIS LIBERTY," 
 
 Dost thou but mock me, when thou bid'st me sin^ 
 The captive's gushing- tears for Hberty? 
 
 Or dost not know thou hast bound me with a chain, 
 From which I would not, if I could, be free? 
 
 VIHE, IN NORMANDY, Jan. 5. 1846. 
 
 WRITTEN IN A LADY'S ALBUM. 
 
 The sculptor, ere he takes 
 
 The chisel in his hand. 
 Draws the inkling- of liis thought 
 
 On pasteboard or in sand: 
 So to thine Album l 
 
 The secret first impart. 
 Which my triie love l)urns to write 
 
 On the marble of tliy heart. 
 
 VIRE, IN NORMANDY, March 5. 1840. 
 
THE STRANGER AND THE YAUX DE VIRE, 
 
 WRITTETS AT VIRE . IN NORMANDY. KARLY IN THE SPRING OF 
 THE YEAR 1S4(>. 
 
 VAUX DE VIRE. 
 
 Stay, stranger, stay: why Icav'st the Vmix de Vire? 
 'Tis the sweet spring-- tune, jiist the openmg year: 
 Have we done aught to harm thee or displease? 
 Or in France find'st thou lovelier fields than these? 
 
 STRANGER. 
 
 Sweet is the spring- among the Vdux de Vire, 
 And sweet the opening of the new-born year; 
 Nought have ye done to harm me or displease. 
 Nor in France seek I lovelier fields than these. 
 
 VAUX DE VIRE. 
 
 Then why, stranger, why so soon away. 
 And thy back turned upon our coming May? 
 With softer breath each morn the zephyr blows, 
 With brighter tints each even the sunset gl()ws. 
 
 STRANGER. 
 
 A land there is beyond your northern sea, 
 More dear than even the Viiux de Vire to me; 
 A land of hill -and -dale slope, flower, and treCj 
 And ruddy sunset and bird -melody. 
 
 VAUX DE VIRE. 
 
 Far off thai land, far ofl" beyond the deep: 
 Rocks rise l»etween, waves roll, and temjiests sweep 
 Our spring is nigh; thou see'st the violet pc'oping; 
 In yonder biish 'tis Philomel that 's cheeping-. 
 
.STRANGER. 
 
 In that far land, ljey()nd that stormy sea. 
 
 Are friends tliat hue nie, know me, think of me; 
 
 Beneath its sod my h;ibles twain are h'lid. 
 
 And its long jjriiss waves o'er my mother's head; 
 
 Waves o'er that mother's head who so oft blessed me, 
 And to her beating- bosom so oft pressed me; 
 That noble mother to whose love I owe 
 All that I dm, or hope, or feel, or know; 
 
 That wont so 6ft, on siich an eve, to lean 
 -Her arm on mine, and point to siich a seeiie, 
 To such a glowing- heaven and setting sun; 
 Then tiirn and see the night come slowly on; 
 
 And then the flush upon her furrowed cheek 
 Would tell the thought she ventured not to speak, 
 That her night, too, was coming, licr day past. 
 And from her loved ones she must part at last. 
 
 And she is parted; in that far land laid; 
 And its long grass waves o'er my mother's head: 
 Then fare ye well, sweet fields, I stay not here; 
 Blessing and peace be with the Vaux de Vire; 
 
 Be with those orchard walks and coppiced braes, 
 \Vhere hapless Basselin poured his untaught lays; 
 L('»ng shall your memory to my heart be dear; 
 Blessing and peace be with the Vaux de Vire. 
 
 V .^ 
 
THE TRAVELLER AND THE NORTH-WEST WIND. 
 
 WRITTEN AT VIRE , IN NORMANDY. MARCH, 1846. 
 TKAVELLEK. 
 
 Now where hast thou been, thou North-west Wind, 
 Now where hast thou ])een, tell me? 
 
 NORTH-WEST WIND. 
 
 I have been far away in the Irish land. 
 And beyond the Irish Sea. 
 
 IRAVELLER. 
 
 And what hast thou seen in that far Irish land, 
 
 And what hast thou seen, I pray? 
 Hast thou seen a low house near the edge of the road. 
 
 As by Dalkey thou took'st thy way? 
 
 NORTH -WEST WIND. 
 
 And is it a house with its side to the road, 
 And its face to a lawn so green? 
 
 TRAVELLER. 
 
 Ah! that is the house, my dear North -west Wind, 
 My sister's house thou hast seen. 
 
 NORTH-WEST WIND. 
 
 And has it a wicket, that lawn so green. 
 
 In the shade of an old sycamore; 
 And three steps lip to a gravelled court 
 
 In front of that low cabin -door? 
 
TRAVELLER. 
 
 Ah! that is the wicket that each Sunday eve 
 
 So joyfully opened to nie, 
 As 1 and my loved ones the loved ones sought, 
 
 That dwelt by that sycamore tree. 
 
 NORTH -WEST WIND. 
 
 And has that low cabin a window that looks 
 
 To the south on a garden lair, 
 Whei'e the vervain leans lip to the window-pane, 
 
 And the eglantine scents the air? 
 
 TRAVELLER. 
 
 Ah! that is the window, where she used to sit 
 That will ne'er in that window sit more, 
 
 Oi' lay up again for dear children or friend 
 The leaf of that vervain in store. 
 
 NORTH-WEST WIND. 
 
 But still in that window a lady there sits, 
 And gathers the vervain leaf green — 
 
 TRAVELLER. 
 
 Ah ! that is her daughter — come kiss me, dear Wmd 
 Ah! that is my sister thou 'st seen. 
 
 And did she look merry? or did she look sad? 
 Or didst thou her vuice chance to hear? 
 
 NORTH -WEST WIND. 
 
 Ah! sad was tier look, and plaintive her vuice, 
 And I thought in her eye stood a tear; 
 
 And these were the words 1 heard her sing-, 
 As 1 drooped my wing by the pane: — 
 
 "How long- and slow the moments go! 
 Shall 1 e'er see mv l)r6ther again?" 
 
 Fi 
 
And far within accompanied 
 A piano in softest strain: — ■ 
 
 "How long- and slow the moments g'o! 
 Shall I e'er see my brother again?" 
 
 TRAVELLER. 
 
 Fly back, tly back, thou North-west Wind, 
 
 Fly back to that garden again, 
 And softly breathe in the vervain leaves. 
 
 And whisper at that pane: — 
 
 '* Another half-year, and he will be here. 
 
 That brother we love so well, 
 [ hear his foot, and 1 know his piill 
 
 Upon the wicket bell. 
 
 "But we '11 not wait here an(3ther half-year, 
 
 For the st(3rmy winter 's g-one; 
 And the wind that soft breathes in the vervain leaves, 
 
 Will waft us to France anon. 
 
 "Then the time that hang-s now with nightmare weight 
 
 On brother and sisters parted, 
 Will seem short as lark's song, or a Midsummer Dream 
 
 Of Shakespeare the angel -hearted. 
 
 "And when the pleasant half-year is fled. 
 
 And the days grow dark again. 
 We '11 return with him to this low -roofed house. 
 
 This window and vervain; 
 
 "And round the tea-table, round the hearth, 
 
 Brother and sisters once more 
 Will gather, and sit, and laugh, and chat, 
 
 As on Sunday eves of yore; 
 
"As 6ft on Sunday eve we gathered, 
 Sisters loving-, loving brother, 
 
 Round the tea-table, round the hearth. 
 Children of a living mother. 
 
 "That mother dead we '11 love the more, 
 We '11 love the more each uther; 
 
 And, once we have met, ne'er part again 
 Sisters loving", loving' brother," 
 
 PARI S. 
 
 'Tis Paris! huge Paris! before me extending, 
 
 With her spires, and herd6nies,and her streets never-ending; 
 
 With her boulevards, gardens, and obelisks tall, 
 
 And the blue summer sky looking down upon all. 
 
 'Tis Paris! gay Paris! soft palace of pleasure. 
 
 Where to joy there 's no end, to refinement no measure; 
 
 Rut cafe and theatre, salon and ball, 
 
 And the stars' midnight- watch looking down upon all. 
 
 'Tis Paris! wise Paris! staid city of learning, 
 Of reunion, and cercle, and savant discerning-. 
 Of academy, college, and institute -hall. 
 And Moliere's calm spirit looking down upon all. 
 
 'Tis Paris! strong" Paris! that rose in her might. 
 And crushed with one heel-stamp earth's kings' divine right, 
 Awoke sleeping" nations with freedom's trump call. 
 And shook God on his throne, looking down upon all. 
 
 Fa 
 
'Tis Paris! mad Paris! red city of blood, 
 
 On wliose stones scarce dry yet her sons' streaming- life-flood: 
 
 Scarce silent the tumbril's loiird roll, and the fall 
 
 Of the guillotine -axe looking down upon all. 
 
 'Tis Paris! throng Paris! warm bee- hive of hfe, 
 
 Of bustle, and intrig-ue, and politic strife, 
 
 Of democrat cmeute and Carlist cabal. 
 
 And sly Loiiis Philippe looking down upon all. 
 
 'Tis Paris! bride Paris! arrayed in her best; 
 
 For the Ijridcgroom is waiting, and so is the feast: 
 
 The feast, 'tis laid out in chill Pere- la- Chaise hall. 
 
 And the bridegroom 's grim Death looking duwn upon all. 
 
 'Tis Paris! huge Paris! before me extending-, 
 
 With her spires, and her domes, and her streets never-ending; 
 
 With her boulevards, gardens, and obelisks tail. 
 
 And the blue summer sky looking- down upon all. 
 
 PARIS, June 11. 1840. 
 
 JOUPxNEY FROM TRENT, TO RIVA OX 
 THE LA(^0 Dl GARDA. 
 
 JU.NE 7. 1847. 
 
 At five leave Trent, 
 
 In coach and pair, 
 For Riva bent, 
 
 And cooler air, 
 
 My wife and ] 
 
 And daughter tall. 
 And Maestro Monti, 
 
 Four in all. 
 
Good company 
 
 In sooth are w(i, 
 And for six hours 
 
 May well agree, 
 
 ir quarrels come, 
 
 As poets teach, 
 From too free lise 
 
 Of the parts of speech; 
 
 For we no word have 
 
 Of Italian ; 
 No EngUsh he. 
 
 Nor cramp Germanian; 
 
 And has not even 
 
 The acquaintance made, 
 Of Ma'mselle French, 
 
 That common jade, 
 
 That walks at ease 
 Wide Europe's streets, 
 
 And laughs and chats 
 With all she meets. 
 
 Pleasant the view is, 
 
 As our carriage 
 Rolls smoothly down 
 
 The Vale of Adige: 
 
 Toward southern suns 
 And genial skies. 
 
 Gently sloped 
 That valley lies. 
 
From wintry blasts, 
 North, east, and west, 
 
 Alpine steeps 
 
 Defend its breast; 
 
 And with a thousand 
 
 lee -fed rills 
 Water its fields, 
 
 And tiirn its mills; 
 
 And cool the siiltry 
 
 Slimmer air, 
 And play sweet miisic 
 
 To the ear. 
 
 Here the cliffs 
 
 Are bleak and bare, 
 With pine forests 
 
 Covered there; 
 
 Or with various 
 
 Carpet spread. 
 Of fern and heath, 
 
 The black-cock's bed. 
 
 Here mica schist. 
 
 Red porphyry. 
 And granite peaks. 
 
 Invade the sky. 
 
 There slumbering marble 
 
 Waits the hand 
 That Ijids it into 
 
 Life to stand. 
 
Lower down 
 
 The smidstone rock; 
 At our feet 
 
 The boulder block. 
 
 Pleasant the view is, 
 
 As our carriag-e 
 Rolls smoothly down 
 
 The Vale of Adige: 
 
 Trellised vines 
 
 Stretch far and near. 
 Through fields of lentil, 
 
 Maize, and here; 
 
 Chesnut and walnut 
 
 Stately stand, 
 Flanking- the road 
 
 On either hand; 
 
 And gentler willow^ 
 Lends its shade, 
 
 And droops and arches 
 Overhead ; 
 
 And sunburnt peasants' 
 Hands rapacious 
 
 Ciill the mulberry's 
 Foliage precious. 
 
 The sacks stand full. 
 The carts are loaded, 
 
 The tawny oxen 
 Yoked and goaded; 
 
 Ft 
 
The master hears, 
 
 With ears of pleasure, 
 The axle groan 
 
 Beneath the treasure. 
 
 Let six weeks pass, 
 The work is done, 
 
 The worms are fed, 
 The cocoons spiin, 
 
 The chrysaUs killed, 
 
 Its intricate cliie 
 Unravelled nice. 
 
 And spiin anew 
 
 into a firm, 
 
 Tenacious line, 
 Yellow as gold, 
 
 As gossamer fine; 
 
 Parent of 
 
 The bombazine, 
 Rustling sarsnet. 
 
 Satin sheen; 
 
 Of the sofa's 
 
 Gay brocade, 
 Of the lutestring 
 
 Quilted bed; 
 
 Of the flag 
 
 That floats on high, 
 Defiance to 
 
 The enem>; 
 
Of tlie 8"('u'tcr, 
 
 Of" the pall; 
 Woiurroiis thread 
 
 That iiiak'st them all! 
 
 Pleasant the view is, 
 
 As our carriage 
 Rolls smoothly down 
 
 The Vale of Adige: 
 
 On our right hand 
 The broad river, 
 
 Gray and clear, 
 And sparkling ever; 
 
 In its stony 
 
 Channel dashing, 
 Raving, fretting, 
 
 Foaming, splashing. 
 
 What though still 
 
 Its course is forward. 
 What though still 
 
 It rushes onward, 
 
 Downward still 
 
 Although its motion, 
 Toward the vast 
 
 Absorbing ocean, 
 
 See, each wavelet 
 Backward ciirls; 
 
 See, reversed 
 Each eddy swirls; 
 
 Ff^ 
 
See, it casts 
 
 Its lingering- look 
 Toward the scenes 
 
 It hath forsook. 
 
 Toward its native 
 Orteler mountain, 
 
 Toward its parent 
 Glacier fountain. 
 
 Life's traveller so 
 Casts back his view 
 
 On the dear scenes 
 His childhood knew. 
 
 With face reverted, 
 
 So is borne 
 Down the rough road 
 
 Whence no return, 
 
 And pliinged at last 
 
 Into the sea, 
 By finites called 
 
 Eternity. 
 
 Pleasant the view is. 
 As our carriage 
 
 Rolls smoothly down 
 The Vale of Adig-e: 
 
 We thread the gorge 
 Where Liigerthal 
 
 In battle saw 
 Sanseverin fall: 
 
Leave on the rig-ht 
 
 Old Castelbarco , 
 And hear thy tower, 
 
 Holy San Marco, 
 
 Chime nig-ht's first watch 
 
 In Rovereith, 
 As we arrive, 
 
 At half- past eight. 
 
 After supper, 
 
 Fresh and merry, 
 West we tiirn 
 
 Toward Adige ferry; 
 
 And where, 'twixt banks 
 Of flowery rushes, 
 
 Deep, silent, smooth, 
 The river gushes. 
 
 Carriage and all 
 
 Across w^e float 
 In broad, flat- bottomed 
 
 Liigger-boat. 
 
 Dark though it be. 
 Small fear have we, 
 
 And Maestro 's still 
 Good company; 
 
 And, part by signs, 
 And part by looks, 
 
 And part by words 
 Picked out of books, 
 
Contrives to let us 
 
 Understand 
 He guides us through 
 
 No unknown land; 
 
 Guides us through Mori's 
 
 Village riide — 
 'Twere picturesque 
 
 By day -light viewed — 
 
 Past Loppio's lake, 
 With islands dotted; 
 
 Past Loppio's rocks, 
 With lichens spotted. 
 
 Where our passing 
 
 Lamp -light falls 
 On yonder gray 
 
 Time -eaten walls, 
 
 Awful from 
 
 The rocky steep 
 Frowned, Nago, once 
 
 Thy castled keep. 
 
 Our downward course 
 
 Is fair and free. 
 From those drear heights 
 
 To Torbole, 
 
 Where, snugly moored 
 In Morpheus' arms, 
 
 Lake Garda's boatmen 
 Dream of storms. 
 
Tliiiii^: on lines 
 
 Tlieir nets are drying-, 
 Higli on the strand 
 
 Their boats are lying-. 
 
 Cross we then 
 
 Hoarse Sarca's bridge, 
 And tiirn Mont Brion's 
 
 Jiitting- ridge. 
 
 Where seantly may 
 The strait road sweep 
 
 'Twixt the deep lake 
 And mountain steep, 
 
 Overhead 
 
 Hangs drearily 
 The glimmering lamp 
 
 Of a Calvary. 
 
 From widow's criise 
 That lamp is fed, 
 
 A widow's tears 
 
 On that slab are read: 
 
 "Fellow -sinner, 
 
 Bend thy knee, 
 Fellow- sinner, 
 
 Pray with me 
 
 ''For him that in 
 The tempest's shock, 
 
 Foundering sank 
 By yonder rock. 
 
 G2 
 
''Mother of God, 
 The sailor save, 
 
 On Lake Garda's 
 Dangerous wave." 
 
 Two short miles more 
 Run quickly past, 
 
 And Riva sate 
 We reach at last; 
 
 And jiist as cocks 
 And clocks tell one, 
 
 At 11 Giardino* 
 Are set down, 
 
 Where Maestro Monti 
 Bids good night, 
 
 And all to bed 
 In weary plight. 
 
 * This picturesque and truly Italian hotel (called II Giardino, 
 from its public garden opening on the lake) has been lately pulled 
 down, to make room for the Austrian fortifications with which the 
 hitherto sechided and peaceful valley of Riva has, alas! at last begun 
 to bristle. — J. H. 1850. 
 
TRUTH. 
 
 ^VRITTEN IN FRAEULEIN CLARA ATTLMAYER's ALBUM, ON LEAVING 
 SCHLOSS WEYERBURG.* 
 
 Statelier than Weyerburg- Schloss, I ween, 
 Fairer than its bowers so green, 
 Fresher than the mountain breeze 
 Whispering- through its wahiut trees, 
 Clearer than the gurgling rills 
 Trickling- from its snow- clad hills, 
 Sweeter than the fragrance spread 
 By its gay carnation bed, 
 Lovelier than the prospect wide 
 From its towers on every side, 
 
 * Schloss Weyerburg is a castle situated on tlie first heights of 
 the Alps, where they rise immediately over the city of Innsbruck, 
 on the north. It formerly belonged to , and was occasionally the 
 residence of, the Eiuperor Maximilian, and is now owned and inha- 
 bited by tlie family of Attlmayer of Innsbruck. It was in the great 
 hall of this castle the Emperor received in state the Venetian Am- 
 bassadors. From this hall, or, if you please, from its balcony, ele- 
 vated from forty to fifty feet above the high and steep rock on which 
 the castle stands, is a prospect not to be surpassed, perhaps, in the 
 world. In the foreground and far below you, on the right, in the 
 midst of parks, gardens, and green meadows, the white, open, and 
 irregularly built city of Innsbruck, with its famous wooden bridge, 
 and innumerable gilded spires and cupolas glittering in the sun; 
 immediately in from, and ul an equal depth below, the rushing and 
 impetuous river, and the valley of the Inn; beyond, on the first 
 
Nobler than its ample hall, 
 
 Strong-er than its massive wall , 
 
 Dearer to God and ang-els far 
 
 Than its chapel, than its pray'r, 
 
 Is the unvarnished word of truth, 
 
 Issuing- from the lips of youth, 
 
 The guileless lips of maiden fair, 
 
 Clara and Anna Attlmayer: 
 
 Well might ripe age learn wisdom there. 
 
 June U. 1849, 
 
 heiglits of the opposite or southern range of Alps, the royal castle 
 of Schloss Ambras (larger and statelier than Weyerburg, and out of 
 an upper window of which, Wallenstein, w^hen a boy, fell, and es- 
 caped unhurt); fax^her beyond, and above, the lower plateau of the 
 Alps, gently swelling, green, grassy, and studded wath white 
 cottages, chapels, hamlets, and clumps of trees; still higher, and 
 retreating backward, the rocky sides of the Alps, here and there 
 covered with pine forests ; and high above all, the long line of their 
 bleak and snow -clad pinnacles mingling with the clouds; on the left 
 the broad and rapid river again, passing under a suspension-bridge, 
 and, garnished w^itli poplars, threading its way along the windings 
 of the valley towards the far off Danube, and finally disappearing 
 behind the market -town of Hall. 
 
 Allusion is made in the above lines, and particularly in the last 
 of them , to a circumstance which occurred during the author's resi- 
 dence in this Castle, in the summer of 1849. 
 
WEYERBURG'S BOWERS SO GREEN. 
 
 WRITTEN IN FRAEULEIN ANNA ATTLMAYER's ALBUM, ON OCCASION OF 
 LEAVING SCHLOSS WEYERBURG , NEAR INNSBRUCK, JUNE IJ, 1849. 
 
 "Tell me, sweet Anna, tell me, pray, 
 
 How many thou hast seen. 
 Rich, noble, valiant, grave, or gay, 
 
 'Mongst Weyerburg's bowers so green?" 
 
 ''Rich, noble, valiant, grave, or gay, 
 
 As many 1 have seen, 
 As are the leaves upon the trees 
 
 'Mongst Weyerburg's bowers so green." 
 
 ''How many happy, tell me now. 
 
 Sweet Anna, hast thou seen?" 
 "Happy! 1 never saw but two 
 
 'Mongst Weyerburg's bowers so green. 
 
 *'A father and a daughter here . 
 
 From Ireland 1 have seen; 
 A parent kind, a duteous child, 
 
 'Mongst Weyerburg's bowers so green. 
 
 "They were not rich, they were not g^reat, 
 
 Far better they, 1 ween; 
 Fond of each other, just toward all, 
 
 'Mongst Weyerburg's bowers so green. 
 
''Happy they were, if happiness 
 
 Ever on earth has been; 
 A tender sire, a loving' child, 
 
 'Mongst Weyerburg's bowers so green. 
 
 "I love to sit and think of them, 
 To be where they have been; 
 
 Ah! do they ever think of me, 
 
 And Weyerbur^'s bowers so green?" 
 
 TO FRAEULEIN LAURA WIDMANN, 
 
 ON OCCASION OF A SEARCH IN VAIN FOR HER PORTRAIT, LOST IN 
 MY APARTMENT IN THE HOTEL AT INNSBRUCK. 
 
 I searched my chamber round and round, 
 The table, sofa, chairs, and ground, 
 But nowhere Laura's picture found; 
 Till casting-, or by fate or chance, 
 Upon my inward self a g-lance, 
 I spied, in secret nook remote — 
 Say, Laura, was it what I sought — 
 An angel's portrait without name, 
 Drawn on my heart in strokes of flame! 
 
 June 14, 1849, 
 
THE FROWN AND THE SMILE. 
 
 FOR SELINA's album. 
 
 "Come, in my album write a verse," 
 
 Matilda said once to a poet; 
 "But mind, no nonsense; for I vow, 
 
 To all the world 1 '11 surely sliow it." 
 
 He took the pen, and tremUing- wrote 
 
 These very \v6rds , or nearly : 
 ''Of all the maids I know on earth 
 
 There 's none I love so dearly — " 
 
 Matilda, frowning, stopped him short: — 
 "My album, you have spoiled it, 
 
 I would not for my best new g-own, 
 Your pen had ever soiled it." 
 
 "Spoiled what? soiled what?" the poet cried 
 
 "Pray, Madam, let me finish; 
 The butter 's here, but not the bread — 
 
 The eggs , but not the spinach." 
 
 He took the pen again, and wrote, 
 
 Firmly this time, and clearly: 
 "Of all the maids 1 know on earth 
 
 There 's none I love so dearly, 
 
 "That 1 for her one hour would lose 
 
 Of happy bachelor life." 
 Matilda smiled; and ere a month 
 
 The poet called Matilda wife. 
 
 LEGHORN, November, 1849. 
 
 G5 
 
TO MISS LOUISA GRACE, 
 
 WHEN THE AUTHOR WAS LEAVING PISTOJA, WHERE HE HAD BEEN 
 PAYING HER A VISIT. 
 
 Cease, cease, ye tears, to blot the farewell lines 
 My heart at parting- to Louisa sends; 
 Dry them, and with them post to her, ye sighs, 
 Faithfullest couriers betwixt parted friends. 
 
 LE(JHORN, November 16. 1849. 
 
 TO THE SAME, 
 
 FROM VILLA STROZZI , ROME. 
 
 The tear-drops, from our eyelids starting 
 So fast upon our paper fell, 
 'Twas all in vain we strove, at parting, 
 To write our friend one kind farewell. 
 
 By lime assuaged, our sorrow now 
 Assumes a soberer, softer hiie, 
 And sighs, not tears, declare the pain 
 With which we bid our friend adieii. 
 
 Adieii! be happy! think sometimes 
 Of the two friends that loved thee si) ; 
 Our hearts still fondly tiirn to thee, 
 Througli the wide world wheree'cj' we go. 
 
 Deceuiber 7. 1849. 
 
PART OF A LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR TO AN 
 ANTIQUARIAN FRIEND IN IRELAND, 
 
 GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF THE TOMB OF ATISTIA. WIFE OF EURYSACES, 
 RECENTLY DISCOVERED AT ROME, OUTSIDE THE PORTA MAGGIORE, 
 ON THE ROAD TO NAPLES BY FROSINONE.* 
 
 Or may be you 'd rather I 'd tell you the story 
 Of the baker's wife's tomb outside Porta Maggiore, 
 How for fourteen long- centuries snugly it lay 
 Built lip in the works which Honorius one day 
 So awkwardly raised at the Labican gate, 
 And Pope Pius the Seventh demoUshed of late, 
 Bringing back into daylight the monument queer, 
 By the fiinny old baker erected here, 
 To receive the remains of Atistia, his wife, 
 Before him departed this troublesome life: — 
 "A very good wife was Atistia to me, 
 As all will observe who this monument see, 
 
 * There are two inscriptions belonging to this tomb. Tlie words 
 of the first are: — 
 
 FVIT ATISTIA VXOR MIHEI FEMINA OPITVMA VEIXIT QVOIVS CORPORIS 
 RELIQVIAE QVOD SVPERANT SVNT IN HOC PANARO 
 Tliis inscription lias been removed, along- with the full-length 
 figures of the husband and wife, and affixed to an adjoining- wall. 
 The words of the second inscription are: — 
 
 EST HOC MONIMENTVM MARCEI VERGILEl EVRYSACIS 
 PISTORIS REDEMTORIS APPARIT 
 This has been left in sitti. simply, as it would seem, because it 
 could not be removed without pulling down the entire building. 
 
 All the subjects described in the text are actually to be seen on 
 the frieze. 
 
Which, in honor of her and my baking- trade, 
 In the shape of a baker's panariiim I 've made; 
 And the more to express my deep conjugal grief 
 In the front I 've set up the dear creature's relief, 
 "With my own inconsolable self by her side, 
 In my best toga dressed, for rich bakers have pride; 
 And above on the frieze the whole art I 've displayed 
 Of the Roman flour -milling- and baking- trade. 
 The grain you see first, then the mill, then the flour; 
 The kneading- comes next, then the mixing the sour; 
 And there, in the midst of the bakehouse, commanding- 
 How the work shall be done, the chief overseer 's standing-; 
 And in front of the hiig^e, g-aping- mouth of the oven, 
 The journeymen ready the new batch to shove in, 
 Arms naked, legs naked, long- shovels in their hands; 
 And high on the counter the statera sttands; 
 And customers in at the shop -door are dropping, 
 And some into bags the small loaves are popping, 
 While others the large loaves are cutting and weighing, 
 And the clerk 's taking count of the money they 're paying : 
 Your ear must be dull not to hear what they 're saying. 
 And now to the other side follow the frieze. 
 And you '11 see a square box— more this way, if you please — 
 There it is, a square box, rather longer than wide. 
 Pierced through with round holes the whole length of its side, 
 A jour, as the Frank says, to let the light through. 
 For the offside would match, w^ere it placed within view; 
 The panarium that is, where, according to riile, 
 Each fresh batch from the oven is set by to cool; 
 That very panarium — I hope I don't bore ye — 
 That supplied the design of the tomb here before ye, 
 Where to cool 1 've laid by sweet Atistia, my wife. 
 Fresh and crisp from this hot, baking, oven of life; 
 And where, kissing criist to crust,. on the same shelf, 
 
I 'II be Jiiid with her, please Jove, some fine day myself. 
 
 Eurysaces, miller and baker, am I, 
 
 And, by letters patent, monopoly 
 
 Enjoy of the milling and baking- trade; 
 
 And of this panarium what more need be said?" 
 
 Villa Strozzi. ROME, Dec. 13. 1840. 
 
 TO MEMORY. 
 
 Wizard, begone! and let me never 
 See thy hated face again I 
 Thou promisedst a romid of pleasure, 
 And hast given me nought but pain. 
 
 Could thy conjuring rod not call up 
 The dear scenes of departed years, 
 Biit it must same time from my poor heart 
 Strike a flood of scalding tears? 
 
 Could thine enchanted glass not show me 
 The radiant forms my boyhood knew, 
 Biit it must thrust their sepulchres. 
 At the same moment, on my view? 
 
 Could not thy magic echo sing me 
 Notes from lips of love that fell, 
 Biit it must same instant bring me 
 Their long and lingering last farewell? 
 
 Gt 
 
Jiig-gling- wizard, how I hate thee, 
 With tliy magic and thy spells, 
 By black Melancholy taught thee 
 In her silent, siinless cells! 
 
 Foul enchanter, hence! and drown thee 
 In the depths of Lethe's wave! 
 Fair is the world God spreads around me , 
 Thou wouldst make it but a grave. 
 Villa Strozzi, ROME, Jan. 13, 1850. 
 
 LINES 
 
 SUGGESTED BY THE COMPLETE INTERRUPTION OF MY NEWLY MAl>K, 
 BUT MUCH VALUED ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE REV. W. SCRIBNEB, 
 OF NEW YORK, BY HIS DEPARTURE FROM ROME FOR NAPLES, 
 JANUARY 7. 1850. 
 
 See the fire, how fast it biirns! 
 And the stream, how swift it runs! 
 How night after night returns! 
 How soon set our brightest suns! 
 
 The rose that blossomed yester-morn. 
 Today upon the stem hangs dying; 
 The breeze that fanned us yester-even, 
 Tonight in other lands is sighing-. 
 
 But far more fleeting friendship's breath, 
 A breeze from heaven that may not last; 
 And earlier withered friendship's flower, 
 And friendship's stream runs swifter past; 
 
 And quicker friendship's flame expires. 
 And friendship's days are sooner sped: 
 We fain would stir the ancient fires, 
 And stir but ashes cold and dead. 
 
 Villa Strozzi, ROiME, Jan. 7. 1850. 
 
THE SOLDIER'S GRAVE. 
 
 SONG WRITTEN ON SEEING FOR THE FIRST TIME, IN THE CAPITOLINE 
 MUSEUM, IN ROME, THE STATUE OF THE WOUNDED AND DYING 
 DACIAN SOLDIER, COMMONLY CALLED THE DYING GLADIATOR. 
 
 Ah! sweet is the death of the soldier brave, 
 
 And his country with laurels shall plant his grave, 
 
 Historians and poets his praises shall write, 
 
 And fair maidens sing' them, and grey -beards recite. 
 
 For his is no lingering hectic decay. 
 
 By slow degrees gnawing his vitals away, 
 
 His vigor consuming, and blanching his cheek, 
 
 Tedious month after month, and long week after week. 
 
 With hand locked in his, by his bedside all night, 
 No tender wife w^atches his life's waning light, 
 Hoping, fearing, despairing, and weeping by turns, 
 As brighter or dimmer the flick'ring flame biirns. 
 
 But his country commands him: away to the wars! 
 For valor there 's honor, there 's laurel for scars; 
 His son hands him his sword; his wife buckles it on; 
 One kiss, one embrace; the next moment he 's gone. 
 
 He 's gone, and has fallen: — abject minions, forbear; 
 'Tis a soldier that yonder lies stretched on his bier; 
 Keep your sighs, keep your tears, for the death-fearing skive; 
 They shall not pollute the soldier's grave. 
 
 Villa Strozzi, ROMP:, January, 1850. 
 
 G8 
 
ROME. 
 
 From Villa Strozzi, Rome, 
 To my loved friends at home, 
 This vigil of St. Blase, 
 When the wild duck lays, 
 And the faint primrose 
 Under the bare hedge blows. 
 And the mezereon bloom 
 Spreads widest its perfume, 
 And merry bells are rung-. 
 And Candlemas is sung, 
 And days begin to brighten. 
 And hearts begin to Hghten; 
 For the winter 's past. 
 And Spring 's coming fast. 
 
 Though most travellers so invent things, 
 
 And wantonly misrepresent things, 
 
 That I have heard it said 'twere better 
 
 A traveller never wrote a letter; 
 
 Yet what I saw in Rome, believe me, 
 
 I '11 tell ye triie, and not deceive ye; 
 
 For, as at times sweet flowers are found 
 
 Growing in linpropitious ground, 
 
 And as some pickpockets, they say, 
 
 Are men of honor in their way, 
 
 And now and then clear right 's in cavillers. 
 
 Why not the trdth sometimes in travellers? 
 
 Biit that I may not before swine 
 
 Cast my pearls, or pour my wine, 
 
 I fain would make, with your permission. 
 
 Ere I begin, this one condition: 
 
That simply, without guile or art, 
 Yc, too, perform your proper part, 
 Fling- far away all preconception 
 Obstructive of plain truth's reception; 
 And, like an lincorriiptecl child, 
 Listening to prece])tor mild, 
 Meekly your d(jcile ear incline • 
 To the tale of Rome divine. 
 
 With invocation to the Nine 
 Shall 1 begin that tale divine, 
 And luimbly from Apollo sue 
 Fire for myself, to impart to you? 
 Or shall I seek my inspiration 
 In the old glories of the nation, 
 The air I breathe, the ground I tread. 
 And the bright sky hangs o'er my head? 
 Or rather turn my northward look 
 T(>ward the dear scenes my feet forsook, 
 But not my heart, — oh! never, never, 
 From that loved land my heart shall sever 
 Toward the snug cottage Glenagcary, 
 And the warm hearth of best -loved Mary 
 Toward old Ballievey House and Mill, 
 And the new farm of Mutton Hill? 
 Now, indeed, my rhymes run free; 
 Now my thoughts are melody; 
 Come, Inspiration, come along; 
 Brother and sisters, hear my song. 
 
 Now, though a poet miich my betters. 
 The very Bead Nash of Belles Lettres, 
 Says, poets who would merit praise 
 Must jump, slap dnsh, m mcdias res, 
 
Yet 1 'm determined for this once, 
 
 Even at the risk ye diib me diince, 
 
 On no man's coat- sleeve my faith pinning, 
 
 To beg-in with the beginning; 
 
 And, proceeding through the middle, 
 
 N()t till the end hang- lip my fiddle. 
 
 So, as I love to do things neatly, 
 In due order and discreetly, 
 And doubt not that, as Quakers say, 
 Fair and soft goes far in the day, 
 i '11 eschew the vulgar tone, 
 And adopt a style of my own; 
 And, singing in an linder - strain , 
 And checking my poetic vein , 
 Prick on g'cntly o'er the plain, 
 With my Pegasus tight in rehi, 
 Sparing the noble animal's bowels. 
 Keeping the polish on my rowels. 
 And leaving- to some greater master 
 Of the manege to ride faster. 
 
 CHAUNT FlPxST. 
 
 The She -wolf, then, I chaunt her first. 
 That Romulus and llenuis nursed; 
 You '11 see her in the Capitol standing. 
 When you 've mounted the iirst landing: 
 Of the Hall Conservatori , 
 On whose site Rome's ancient gloiy,* 
 If you can put faith in story, 
 
 Sec StMviiis on Virgil, En. Vlll. veisf 1. 
 
T(') Ili(' hreczc the Wivj; unfurled. 
 
 Thill waved ah()ve a couiiuerod world. 
 
 In hnuize she stands tliere. Home's 8he-w^olf; 
 
 Grim, black, and dismal as the giilC 
 
 On which the sailor's look is cast 
 
 When hope to save his bark is past, 
 
 And it 's plain she 's foundering- fast. 
 
 And he feels her settling- motion 
 
 In the middle of the ocean, 
 
 On a stormy night in winter, 
 
 And, laying- hold of spar or splinter, 
 
 Gazes appalled one momenl round," 
 
 Then clears the talfrel with a bound: 
 
 Not blacker looks the raging- deep 
 
 As he takes his desperate leap , 
 
 Heaven's blessing- on his Lilla praying. 
 
 Than that grim and g-aunt Wolf baying, 
 
 Wliile, with g^aping mouths upturned, 
 
 Squat, beside her thunder -biirned 
 
 And rent hind -leg, sit on bare breech 
 
 The royal ciibs, too short to reach, 
 
 By good six inches at the least, 
 
 The teats of the ill-favored beast, 
 
 Turgid to bursting with Rome's glory, 
 
 Consuls, Popes, Cesars, and my story. 
 
 CHAUNT SFXOND. 
 
 My second chaunt — stay, let me see 
 My second chaunt — what shall it Ije? 
 It should have been the Curialii, 
 At deadly grips with the lloratii, 
 Had yc not heard the other day 
 
A throstle sing that very lay,* 
 In tones of siich sweet melody, 
 It were imperthience in me, 
 A minstrel of a rougher grain, 
 To trill one note of the same strain. 
 
 What then shall be my second chaimt? 
 Who can in Rome a subject want? 
 Where Brutus struck , and Cesar fell , 
 And Cicero spoke so long and well, 
 And Virgil poured his tide of song, 
 And Horace, playfully along 
 The Lesbian lyre his fingers flinging, 
 And his Roman Sapphics singing, 
 Neglected his own riiles of art, 
 And took the straight way to the heart j 
 Whither by some round I '11 follow, 
 W^ithout the passport of Apollo. 
 Let those who will, stand by the rules 
 Of crabbed masters and their schools; 
 I '11 leave them in the ddsty plains, 
 And tiirn my gentle palfrey's reins 
 Into some winding path that leads 
 Up the brooks and cross the meads; 
 And through Imagination's dell, 
 Midway 'twixt Reason's frigid cell, 
 And Passion's ever-boiling well. 
 And rounding the heart's citadel, 
 That still in front 's defended well. 
 In at the narrow postern -gate. 
 That open stands early and late. 
 
 * Sec ]Vlacaulay's *' Lays of Aiuieiit Rome." 
 
To let the f()ragers go out 
 
 And raiisjick all the (country about, 
 
 Enter, unobserved, unknown, 
 
 As if 1 were of the garrison , 
 
 Secure, once entered there, of living 
 
 For (iver joyous, and joy -giving. 
 
 CHAUNT THIllI). 
 
 What hinders that 1 take the word 
 From my second chaunt for my third? 
 'Who can a subject want in Rome?' 
 The architect's and sculptor's home; 
 Where, poised in air, thrice fifty metres 
 Above the pavement, hangs St. Peter's 
 Never to be equalled dome, 
 Europe's wonder, pride of Rome; 
 So grand, so beautiful, so bright, 
 So soli^, yet so airy light. 
 You gaze and gaze, until your sight 
 Aches with the unmixed delight, 
 And tiirns to rest on meaner things, 
 As a bird lights to rest its wings, 
 Then soars up to its heaven again , 
 And leaves below this world of piiin. 
 
 Who can a subject want in Rome? 
 The painter's fostering, fostered home: 
 Where Gdido his Aurora drew, 
 8f such ctherial, roseate luie. 
 So soft and sweet, so fresh and fair, 
 So free from taint of earth or care, 
 You cannot know what angels are, 
 Unless you 've had a sight of her; 
 
 H.I 
 
Unless you have behold her run 
 
 Before the chariot of the Siin, 
 
 Scattering- those dew -besprinkled flowers, 
 
 Followed by those dancing Hours; 
 
 Ah, happy Siin! ah, happy Hours I 
 
 How joyous I too, o'er those flowers. 
 
 Hand- in -hand with those g^ay Hoars, 
 
 Would follow through heaven's champaign wide 
 
 The footsteps of that angel guide! 
 
 CHx\UNT FOURTH. 
 
 Were it lor my hundredth, chaunt. 
 
 Could 1 in Rome a subject want? 
 
 Penetrate yon sanctuary; 
 
 Ask the marble groups that sigh 
 
 Over the relics of the just. 
 
 The warrior's bones, the statesman's ddst; 
 
 What answer comes from that massy tomb, 
 
 Dimly seen in the chancel gloom? 
 
 "Here the tenth Leo wails the doom." 
 
 What says that grave where, his sons between 
 
 England's third James has found a screen 
 
 Against the billows and a gale 
 
 All too strong for his vessel frail? — 
 
 But there in peace let the shipwrecked lie; 
 
 In silence pass that monument by; 
 
 "Last of the Stiiarts" their elegy; 
 
 And come and see where Mani'itius sleeph, 
 
 And over Bembo Learning weeps, • 
 
 And Fra Giovanni da Fiesole 
 
 Lies wrapt in innnortahty, 
 
 And Rosa's ashes sanctify 
 
 Saint Mary's Degli Angeli. 
 
Pilg-riin of Sion, rcvorent tread 
 
 Over thy Tasso's laurelled head. 
 
 Where lowly in OiiotVio's aisle 
 
 It resteth from its mortal coil. 
 
 Tdrn, Nature's votary, hither tdrn; 
 
 Hast thou no wreath for Raphael's lirii? 
 
 No tear for him that blighted died 
 
 Ja his summer's sunny pride, 
 
 Leaving- on church and palace wall, 
 
 Inscribed in letters magical: — 
 
 "Heaven judged my paintings were more fair 
 
 Than man's dazzled sight might bear, 
 
 And took me to herself or ere 
 
 Complete my seven -and -thirtieth year; 
 
 Pray that my sin may be forgiven — 
 
 It was not earth 1 drew, but heaven." 
 
 CHAUNT FIFTH. 
 
 A poet who would laurels wear 
 
 Must bite his nail, and twirl his hair 
 
 Between his finger and his thumb. 
 
 Coaxing tlie right pat thought to come; 
 
 And, when it hath come, miist take care 
 
 It make its entree with the air, 
 
 As far from forward as from shy, 
 
 Of one used to good company. 
 
 Who, through the thickest of the bevy 
 
 At the drawing-room or levee. 
 
 Makes his way with an easy grace, 
 
 Then bows politely, and takes his place. 
 
 "What 's all this simile about?" 
 
 Asks your piizzlcd air of doubt; 
 
 So with some more let 's help it out. 
 
 H 4 
 
It 's not enough a thought be jiist, 
 Grand, beautiful; it also miist, 
 Before it can be poetry, 
 With its neighbour thoughts agree, 
 Like children of one family, 
 Like notes of the same melody, 
 Like feathers in the same bird's wing-. 
 Like diamonds set in the same ring, 
 Like flowers into one noseg-ay tied, 
 Or embroidered side by side, 
 Or colors on one canvas spread. 
 Green, yellow, orange, bliie, and red. 
 Blending in one harmonious whole, 
 Warm from the epic painter's soul, 
 Some Ihad or some Odyssey 
 Of Rubens or Da Fiesole. 
 
 The nail is bit, the lock is twirled 
 
 Till scarce a hair is left uncurled; 
 
 The new thought 's come — Lord, biit it 's rough! 
 
 And yet at bottom it 's good stiifT; 
 
 OfT with your coat; set to and scrub; 
 
 It brightens here; another nib; 
 
 Brighter and brighter every minute; 
 
 1 knew there was good metal in it; 
 
 There, set it in the proper light; 
 
 1 'm in the way of hick to-night; 
 
 Stay, isn't it too large lor the ring? 
 
 That color too 's not jiist the thing; 
 
 You do not mean to set a beryl 
 
 Between an emerald and a pearl? 
 
 I own it 's a most charming- gem. 
 
 Fit for a royal diadem, 
 
 But here it 's wholly out of place; 
 
So lay it by in the g-lass-casc 
 
 With your amethysts apart, 
 
 Till you 're setting- your coral heart; 
 
 For 'tis a saying- of Vcrtiie 
 
 Whose sayings you know are always ti-iie,* 
 
 Piuby and emerald with pearl, 
 
 Coral and amethyst with beryl. 
 
 Now can ye ask the reason why 
 I 've for some future chaunt set by 
 The thought that stood prepared for this, 
 Or take its absence here amiss? 
 
 ROME. 
 
 (continued,) 
 
 I I(ive to rise betimes 
 
 To liear Rome's matin chimes, 
 
 And see tlie lusty sun 
 
 Begin Lis race to run, 
 
 Xliese first bright days of March, 
 
 Lighting up tower and arcli , 
 
 And pinnacle and dome, 
 
 Over llie expanse of Home; 
 
 From Porta Popolo, 
 
 And Muute iMario , 
 
 And Santo Spirito , 
 
 And frowning Angelo, 
 
 And immense V.iticau, 
 
 Along the shaping van 
 
 Of high Janicniine, 
 
 On l)y the Aventinc, 
 
 And r()yal Piikitine, 
 
 And Arch of Coiistauline, 
 
 * "Vertue was incommode, he loved trutli." — Walpole. 
 Us 
 
And old John Lateran, 
 
 And older Labictin , 
 
 Qaitc round to the Esqniline, 
 
 And steep Capitoline, 
 
 And diadem'd Quirinal . 
 
 And my own \ iminal , 
 
 Where, from high balcony 
 
 O'erhang-ing- dark Negroni,* 
 
 Seated in easy clKiir, 
 
 I enj<')y the prospect rare. 
 
 And drink the balmy air, 
 
 And meditate on cliange 
 
 As my wandering eye dolli range 
 
 And from ruined Lutian J(')ve, 
 
 Long Alba's hills ab(jve , 
 
 A timid gl;ince lets fall 
 
 On St. Peter's cross and ball; 
 
 Then turn my elniir about, 
 
 And sliut the prospect out. 
 
 And rest my weary sight, 
 
 And collect my wits to write 
 
 The greetings my heart sends 
 
 To my far-off Irish friends. 
 
 CHAUNT SIXTH. 
 
 "Id harmless sport and merriment 
 At least this one day shall be spent, 
 To-night at twelve begins the Lent; 
 So tiirn the phaeton out, Giovanni, 
 And pack between the seats so many 
 Wide -mouthed bags of siigar- i)ldms, 
 And comlits big as my two thumbs, 
 That there may be no room for feet. 
 Unless we piit them on the seat. 
 
 * Villa Negroni, formerly Villa jNlassiuii, is o\ .ih.olu'd by tlie 
 Casa or Palazzo of Villa S(rozzi. from which it is scj)aiafed only 
 by the breadth of the road leading from Santa I\huia .Maggiori- to the 
 ]5aths of Diocletian. 
 
Well done, Giovanni; one, two, thrcic, 
 Four, five, six bags; there, don't you see 
 For another bag- there 's room yet? — 
 Bless me, how these horses fret! 
 Postilions, ean't you keep them steady 
 Till the Signorina 's ready? 
 There 's Angela away two hours, 
 And not come back yet with the flowers; 
 If she was younger 1 might say 
 We shall not see her again to-day; 
 Come, Katharine, put on your mask, 
 And give me mine; well! it 's a task 
 To get so many traps together — 
 What think'st, Giovanni, of the weather? 
 1 'm siire I 'm neither fool nor sot, 
 Yet the main thing- 1 'd nigh forg-6t — 
 
 The moccoli, the moccoli; 
 
 The matches and the moccoli; 
 
 Less penitential far to me 
 
 Were bacon without broccoli, 
 
 Than miimmin^ without moccoli. 
 
 Thank ye, Giovanni; lay them so; 
 
 And now we 're ready all to g-6, 
 
 For yonder 1 see Angela coming- 
 
 With the nosegays for our mumming: 
 
 Nosegays fresh! and nosegays fair! 
 
 Prettier nosegays never were; 
 
 Why, Angela 's a creature rare. 
 
 Now, postilions, are ye ready? * 
 
 Stay one moment — steady, steady — 
 
 Crick- crack, crick- crack, and down the street 
 
 Nods and becks to all we meet — 
 
 But what comes in yon caravan? 
 
 Save us, Christ! a whole divan 
 
 H 
 
Of unbelieving Mam el tikes , 
 
 With their horse-tails and chibouks. 
 
 Come, let 's pelt the Moslem crew; 
 
 What business here has Turk or Jew? 
 
 Comfits, comfits, large or small; 
 
 Let 's have at them, one and all; 
 
 Ila! ha! take that, my Lord Vizier — 
 
 "Katharine — child — what do you fear?" 
 
 "Papa, they 've hit me on the ear:" — 
 
 "Don't mind it, child, it 's all in fiin, 
 
 For the Carnival 's jiist begun, 
 
 Merriest feast. beneath the siin." 
 
 "Papa, they 're ^getting up behind:" — 
 
 "It 's all in play, child, never mind." 
 
 "Papa, they 're mounting lip before:" — 
 
 "Katharine, I vow you 're quite a bore." 
 
 "Papa, they 're climbing the coach-door:" — 
 
 "Down, sirs, down! why all this rout? 
 
 Postilions, what are ye about?" 
 
 "Your Honor sees how we are jammed, 
 
 And how from side to side is crammed 
 
 The Corso, chokeful of pedestrians, 
 
 Cars, and coaches, and equestrians." 
 
 "W^hy, Katharine, we 're in a shower 
 
 Of snow or dust; no, biit of Hour: 
 
 Hough! hough! I 'm choked; my eyes are blinded 
 
 "Dear papa, sure you won't mind it; 
 
 For the Carnival 's jiist begun, 
 
 Merriest' feast beneath the siin ; 
 
 And though you 've got a miller's hat. 
 
 And my crape 's powdered, what of that? 
 
 'Tis but the frolic of the season,- 
 
 That more of rhyme has than of reason; 
 
And 1 for my part won't complain, 
 
 If wc get borne without rain:" — 
 
 "Rain, cliiJd! — rain would quite destroy us; 
 
 Nothing could half so miich annoy us; 
 
 For, not to speak of colds or fever, 
 
 Our best clothes were spoiled for ever. 
 
 Since Giovanni, that careless fellow. 
 
 Has not given us one umbrella, 
 
 And the first drops of a shower 
 
 Would into paste turn all this flour. 
 
 Rain, child! — rain would quite destroy us. 
 
 Nothing could half so miich annoy us — 
 
 Ila! what was that that flashed so bright? 
 
 Postilions, hold the horses tight; 
 
 Why! it 's almost as dark as night. 
 
 Was ever heard such a thunder- crash? 
 
 x\nd there 's another brighter flash, 
 
 And on its heels a louder brattle — 
 
 How the walls shake, and windows rattle — ■ 
 
 And lip, and down, and everywhere. 
 
 Into cafe and porte-cochere, 
 
 Under porticos, into shops. 
 
 Flying from the big rain -drops, 
 
 Riin the mummers helter-skelter, 
 
 And in the very churches shelter: 
 
 It 's nehher hail, rain, fire, nor wind, 
 
 But wind, hail, rain, and fire combined. 
 
 All forms at once of winter weather. 
 
 All the foul elements loosed tog'ether. 
 
 As if on this devoted town 
 
 The heavens themselves were tumbling down; 
 
 Or Jove and all his heathen Gods 
 
 Had regained their (ild abodes, 
 
 Ht 
 
And opened on tlic arch-enemy 
 All the IxUtcrics of the sky." 
 
 "Though our clothes are middhng- wet, 
 Dear papa, we 're not drowned yet; 
 1 wonder you 'd so fiime and fret. 
 This portico 's a pleasant cover, 
 And the shower will soon be over; 
 For yonder comes the blue again. 
 And less heavy falls the rain;" — 
 
 "Mighty pleasant, to be sure, 
 
 And equal to a water-cure, 
 
 Dripping wet from head to toe. 
 
 Shivering', quivering, here to go 
 
 For some two good hours or so , 
 
 Up and down this portico. 
 
 Sometimes quick and sometimes slows 
 
 Blowing- on our finger-ends. 
 
 Waiting till the weather mends, 
 
 Thinking on the sport we 've lost. 
 
 Mourning' o'er our fortune crossed, 
 
 Counting lip the damage done 
 
 To horses, liveries, phaeton; 
 
 Our sugar -pliims to syrup melted 
 
 Ere a dozen well were pelted; 
 
 Our nosegays withered, torn, and battered, 
 
 Clothes, hands, faces, all bespattered — 
 
 Mighty pleasant, to be siire. 
 
 And equal to a water-cure. 
 
 For one who strength has to endure. 
 
 And does not die at once outright 
 
 Of shame, vexation, or niere spite." 
 
"Conic, papa, let 's leave our cover, 
 For the storm 's entirely over, 
 And the siinbeains breaking- out — 
 But what makes ;ill the people shout?" 
 
 "Ouick, child, (piick, or we '11 lose the ph'ice 
 
 We have taken for the pony -race; 
 
 Quick, child, quick, we miist run fast, 
 
 Or the ponies will be past: 
 
 Six pretty ponies are to riin, 
 
 Black, white, piebald, grey, and dun, 
 
 But it 's the sorrel 1 've bet upon; 
 
 Last year it was the sorrel that won. 
 
 Well run, Katharine! — to the spot 
 
 In good time at last we 've got, 
 
 Number one hundred twenty -four, 
 
 Two places, balcony first-floor." 
 
 "Your tickets, sir." — "Our tickets? what! 
 
 By Jove! the tickets I quite forgot 
 
 In the pocket of my wet coat, 
 
 And home they 're gone in the phaeton — ■ 
 
 Now, Katharine, what 's to be done?" 
 
 "Come, let 's run down into the street, 
 
 And try if we can't gel a seat 
 
 ()n a platform or in a shop." 
 
 "Yes — no — stay, child — stop, Katharine, stop 
 
 I 've lost my piirse, if it 's not forgot 
 
 With the tickets in my great coat. 
 
 Stolen it is, I 'm sure it 's stolen. 
 
 For my pocket there 's no hole in. 
 
 Thieves, sirs, thieves! 1 'm robbed, 1 'm pkindered 
 
 Thieves, pickpockets, by the hundred! 
 
 Bad as we are with thieves at home 
 
 We 're twenty times worse here in Rome; 
 
For while at home there 's not a man 
 
 But is as honest as he can, 
 
 In Rome there 's not a man but would 
 
 Rob you if he diirst and could, 
 
 Or ciit your thrckU, no matter which. 
 
 And throw your body in a ditch." 
 
 "Dear papa, don't be so vexed:" — 
 
 "Well, child, well, what worse comes next? 
 
 In this curs'd town another day 
 
 1 wouldn't, if 1 could get away, 
 
 No, not for twenty 'Carnivals, stay. 
 
 For though the poet triily sings 
 
 That patience is the best of thing's — 
 
 But stop! what 's that? — the ponies' feet 
 
 Clattering, battering down the street; 
 
 The ponies' feet — the ponies' bells — 
 
 How the heavenly miisic tells 
 
 On every fibre of my heart; 
 
 Oh, that we had but seen them start! 
 
 Then, then, indeed, could no one say 
 
 That we had misspent our day, 
 
 Or laugh at us when we get home 
 
 For missing the finest sight in Rome. 
 
 Six lovelier ponies never ran 
 
 Since the race of time began: 
 
 Six ponies of one age and strength , 
 
 One height, one weight, one breadth, one length, 
 
 Long-maned, long- -tailed, wide nostrils flaring, 
 
 Broad -hoofed, long-paslerned, eyes red glaring: 
 
 One j^lossy black, from Barbary brought; 
 
 One pearly white, in Sicily caught; 
 
 A pieball from Majorca island; 
 
 A stout grey sliclty from Scotch highland; 
 
A creamy Arab, nearer diin; 
 
 And the bright sorrel I 've bet upon, 
 
 That came from France twelve months ago 
 
 With that great liss of an Oudinot. 
 
 But what means all this crowdings, rushing-, 
 
 This jostling', shouldering-, elbowing-, crushing? 
 
 Back, Sir; stand back; where are you pushing? 
 
 Katharine, hold fast; 1 'm off my feet, 
 
 To miimmy spueezed, and choked with heat." - 
 
 ''Papa, I hear the cannon firing-; 
 
 Papa, the soldiers are retiring-" — • 
 
 '"Hurrah! hurrah!' that was a shout: 
 
 'Hurrah! hurrah!' what was it about? 
 
 'Hurrah! hurrah! the race is done.' 
 
 'Hurrah! hurrah! the black has won.' 
 
 The black has won! 1 've lost my mdney; 
 
 Confusion take that sorrel pony, 
 
 And France, and chance, and Oudinot — 
 
 But dang- it, hang^ it, let it go; 
 
 It 's biit a hundred crowns to pay. 
 
 And haven't we had a merry day? 
 
 It 's biit a hundred scudi down, 
 
 And then good-bye to this cursed town: 
 
 A hundred sciidi! well, no matter, 
 
 'Twon't make me thinner, nor much fatter; 
 
 But mind, unless you 're bent to quarrel, 
 
 From henceforth never mention sorrel. 
 
 There, Katharine, blow that taper out, 
 
 And light your own: what are ye about? 
 
 Give me the matches: why! they 're wet; 
 
 Run, biiy a box; stop, don't go yet; 
 
 The rogue that of my purse bereft me 
 
 Not even a half- baio echo left me. 
 
What 's to be done? we miist get liglit; 
 
 But how? 's another question quite. 
 
 See where they 're laughing- as they pass, 
 
 And gibing at me: — 'What an ass! 
 
 In Rome, upon Shrove- Tuesday night 
 
 Masquerading without light!' 
 
 I won't, I can't endure it; no: 
 
 I 'II get a light, or home I '11 go: 
 
 For never was a triier saying 
 
 Than, 'Play what you see others playing; 
 
 And if you 'd well the world get through, 
 
 Just do in Rome as others do;' — 
 
 For Nicholas in Russia stand; 
 
 In Germany for Fatherland; 
 
 In Turkey be a Miisselman; 
 
 In France a staunch Republican; 
 
 In England a dim Puseyite, 
 
 Waiting for the perfect light, 
 
 Sideways to the Pope inclining, 
 
 On Saturdays with Wiseman dining; 
 
 Or, better still. Free-trader be, 
 
 And cry, 'Down with Monopoly,' 
 
 Make her discharge her ill -got pelf. 
 
 And cram it all into yourself; 
 
 In Ireland be a beggarman, 
 
 Or beggar -guardian; what you can. 
 
 Except landlord or gentleman; 
 
 And here in Rome, Shrove -Tuesday night, 
 
 Robber or robbed, it 's equal quite, 
 
 Provided only you 've a light — 
 
 But stay; what 's this? where are we now? 
 
 They 've piit out every light, I vow — 
 
 And not a gas -lamp! — Goths and Vandals! — 
 
 And siich a stench of sniiired-out candles!" 
 
The cannon 's booming- Shrove- tide's knell; 
 Dear, nidrry Carnival, farewell. — 
 And so we jog home, wet and weary, 
 To our Strozzi Villa cheery, 
 There to refresh us for the morrow, 
 Day of ashes, day of sorrow. 
 Warm parlour; siipper; ofT to bed: 
 'Tis a strange roundabout we tread. 
 
 Villa Strozzi, ROME, 1850. 
 
 AMONG THE DASHING WATERS RUDE. 
 
 From the sea -beach at even I viewed 
 A rocky islet, where it stood 
 Among- the dashing waters riide. 
 
 For poet or for painter wight 
 It was in triith a pretty sight. 
 That islet's bold and rocky height. 
 Where in the evening light it stood 
 Among the dashing waters riide. 
 
 No living thing was seen or heard, 
 Not even a sail on the sea appeared: 
 The lovelier in its solitude 
 That rocky islet, where it stood 
 Among the dashing waters riide. 
 
 The waters foamed and the waters flashed 
 And higher still and higher lashed 
 The steep sides of that rocky isle, 
 
 J 2 
 
So calm and undisturbed the while, 
 Methought, almost, it seemed to smile, 
 And say, could it be understood: — 
 "Dash on, dash on, ye waters riide." 
 
 The breeze blew fresher, and the tide 
 Gained still upon that islet's side; 
 And, rolling- inwards from the deep, 
 The billows, with a broader sweep, 
 And heavier still and heavier shock. 
 Burst upon that islet rock. 
 
 My never idle phantasy 
 
 Peopled that solitude for me: 
 
 Yon islet is a citadel , 
 
 By its strong- wall defended well 
 
 Against its foes' beleaguering might; 
 
 Yon emerald billows glancing bright, 
 
 In the evening sunbeams' mellow light, 
 
 Are warriors in green armour dight; 
 
 See how they toss their crests of white. 
 
 See how they riish with sword and shout 
 
 On to the rampart and redout. 
 
 What though, repelled from the steep wall. 
 
 In disorder back they fall , 
 
 Short pause make they, short breathing -halt; 
 
 Already they renew the assault; 
 
 They '11 die, or win that citadel. 
 
 Though its strong wall bestead it well. 
 
 Still fresher blew the breeze; the siin 
 
 Behind the darkening sea went down. 
 
 And, wrapt in clouds, the night came on; 
 
 The long bent shivered in the blast, 
 
 The rack across the sky sped fast; 
 
 Each moment 's darker than the last. 
 
I tiirned mc fr(')in that dre.'iry shore, 
 
 1 tdrncd nic from those l)illows' roar 
 
 And sought the shclton* of my door, 
 
 Curtains and shutters ftistened tight 
 
 Against the howling storm aiid night, 
 
 And, drawing- my tea -table towards the hearth 
 
 And mingling in the kitten's mirth, 
 
 Forgot the rocky isle that stood 
 
 Among the dashing waters riide. 
 
 That night, as I lay in my bed, the rain 
 Battered against the window-pane; 
 That night it blew a hurricane; 
 1 saw the arrowy lightning's flash, 
 1 Iieard the pealing thunder's crash, 
 And thought of the rocky isle that stood 
 Among the dashing waters riide. 
 1 fear, I fear for that citadel, 
 Though its strong- wall bestead it well. 
 
 Fled are the clouds, and storm, and night; 
 
 The rocky isle basks in the light 
 
 Of the morning siin so fresh and blight; 
 
 Scarce tipped the emerald waves with white; 
 
 Eye hath not seen a fairer sight; 
 
 My heart flows over with delight, 
 
 And I love that rocky island more 
 
 Than ever I loved an isle before. 
 
 Man, too, may a siinny morning see 
 Rise on his night of adversity, 
 And harmless burst life's billows rude 
 Upon the rock of his f()rtitude. 
 
 Via Maggiu, FLOKEACE, April 2'6. 1850. 
 J 3 
 
NIGHT'S CLOUDLESS HEAVEN. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF B. CARNERI, 
 
 I gaze at night upon the cloudless heaven, 
 
 I penetrate its deep, ethereal bliie, 
 
 Where starry hosts in rival splendors glisten. 
 
 Systems on systems crowd, and worlds on worlds 
 
 Then think within myself: — I 'm biit a speck, 
 
 A scarcely sensible point on this great globe, 
 
 Itself a scarcely sensible point, compared 
 
 Even with the smallest of those stars that stiid, 
 
 Each with its separate point, tli' expanse of space; 
 
 And yet I hold within my swelling bosom 
 
 The boundless notion of Infinity, 
 
 And compass with my vast, expansive thought 
 
 The illimitable universe itself: 
 
 But Limited holds not Illimitable; 
 
 And Infinite is for Eternity; 
 
 Infinite, therefore, and to live for ever, 
 
 This speck of thought, this point, this thinking I. 
 
 Augustus Allee, DRESDEN, Dec. 21. 1850. 
 
 WRITTEN AT DRESDEN 
 
 DURING THE FIRST FALL OF SNOW IN THE WINTER OF 1810-7. 
 
 See, in the fleecy miifTle with wliich Nature 
 Guards her fair face against the winter cold, 
 An emblem, not unapt, of mortal man: 
 Spotless and piire, as these soft flakes, cre;Ued; 
 Defiled and soiled as soon; as soon dissolved. 
 And re -absorbed into Eternity. 
 
His look is sinister; 1 like him not; 
 
 Lowering- and dark Iiis brow, his forehead narrow, 
 
 His head between tlie ears swells broad and deep, 
 
 His squinting eyes do almost touch each other. 
 
 'Twas but just now 1 saw him, with an air 
 
 Of ill -dissembled levity and ease. 
 
 Drop a dark whisper in his comrade's ear, 
 
 Who with a like mysterious whisper answered. 
 
 'Twas biit just now 1 saw him on his chair 
 
 Wriggling' and fidgetty, then rising sudden. 
 
 And sudden again seated, and round looking- 
 
 As though his conscience told him some one marked him, 
 
 And dived into his purpose: then, again. 
 
 Standing stock-still, without more sign of life 
 
 Than glared in that malignant ferret eye 
 
 That, piercing and pursuing all things, ranged 
 
 Incessant tip and down the gay assembly; 
 
 And then, when come at last he thought the time 
 
 To do the deadly, meditated deed, 
 
 I saw, distinctly saw, the rapid pliinge 
 
 Of his right hand into his left breast-pocket, 
 
 In search of dirk or dagger there concealed, 
 
 Or murderous revolver; and my blood 
 
 Ran cold with horror at the instant flash 
 
 And sparkle of the diamond- studded sniiff-box, 
 
 From which, thrice gently with forefinger tapped. 
 
 And delicately opened, first his friend. 
 
 And then himself, took each so vast a pinch. 
 
 So pungent, rich, and odoriferous, 
 
 As might have put their noses in good humor. 
 
 Glen AGE ARY Cottage, DALKEY, Sept. 22. 1851. 
 
 J 4 
 
PROGRESS. 
 
 Yes; I 'II believe m progress when I see you 
 
 Battering- old jails down, and not building new: 
 
 When I behold you make but a beginning 
 
 To sleep with open doors and unbarred windows; 
 
 When I observe a thinning, not an increase. 
 
 Of your policemen and constabulary, 
 
 Your justices, and coroners, and detectives, 
 
 Your poor-law guardians and commissioners; 
 
 Grass growing in your law courts, and fell s[)idcrs 
 
 There laying snares for flies, not men for men; 
 
 And stamped receipts, recognizances, writs, 
 
 A tale of the old , Pagan , iron time , 
 
 Not of this charitable, Christian present. 
 
 1 '11 then believe in Progress when 1 hear 
 
 That fathers feel the blood mount to their cheeks, 
 
 What time they cringe, and bow, and lick the shoes 
 
 Even of the vilest clerk in the War -office, 
 
 For leave to piit a motley livery siiit 
 
 Upon their sons, and send them out as hirelings. 
 
 With gay cockade, and dangling sword at side, 
 
 To kill and rob and extirpate, where'er 
 
 Killing and robbing and extirpating 
 
 Opens a wider field to British commei'ce. 
 
 Aye; talk to me of Progress when you show me 
 
 Your city banker, or East India merchant, 
 
 After his forty years of counting-house, 
 
 And labor friiiLlcss of all else hut gold, 
 
 His bags chokefiil and bursting with the weight 
 
Of bills, and bonds, and mortgages, and scrip: 
 Show me, I say, your wealthy London merchant 
 Content with his full bags, and not intent 
 To cram with the like stiifT still one bag- more; 
 And come and tell me ye are making progress. 
 
 Let me observe in a full railway carriage 
 
 Some half a dozen, aye, some three, some two, 
 
 Some single solitary one that does not. 
 
 Even in the matter of front seat or back. 
 
 Or pulling up or letting down a window, 
 
 Exhibit his inveterate, ingrained, 
 
 And worse than Pharasaic, selfishness; 
 
 And I '11 begin to think ye are making progress. 
 
 Here am I ready to believe in Progress 
 
 First time I hear your little girls cry "Shame I 
 
 "A coward's shame!" upon the wretch that luints, 
 
 With horse, and hound, and cries of savage joy, 
 
 For sport, mere sport, and not to appease his hungei-. 
 
 The poor, weak, timid, quivering hare to death; 
 
 And twice a coward's and an idler's shame 
 
 On him that skulks, hours, days, beside a brook. 
 
 Putting forth all the treachery and cunning 
 
 That lurk within the dark den of man's brain, 
 
 To entrap the silly troutling, and infix 
 
 Deep in his writhing gills the sly, barbed hook. 
 
 That ye are making progress 1 'II believe 
 
 The fh'st time 1 perceive your conscience twinge ye, 
 
 For answering your questioning child with lies, 
 
 Or chill evasion of the longed-for truth; 
 
 Denying him the advantage of that knowledge 
 
 Ye purchased for yourselves with many a hearlacho, 
 
 J 5 
 
And many an a^ony and bloody sweat; 
 
 And sending- him to Siiil the wide, wide world, 
 
 As helpless, ig-norant, and unprotected, 
 
 On board no compass, no pole-star on high. 
 
 As by your parents ye were sent yourselves, 
 
 To swim, if quick to learn; to sink, if not. 
 
 First time I hear ye say that your devotion 
 
 Has not a tide more regular than the sea, 
 
 And seldom is exactly at the fiill. 
 
 Just as the parish clock strikes twelve on Sunday; 
 
 And that ye count it rank hypocrisy 
 
 To g-o to church, and there, with heart lukewarm 
 
 Or cold, and damped with worldly cares and business. 
 
 Kneel before God, and make pretence of prayer, 
 
 In order that your children, friends, and neighbours. 
 
 May have the benefit of your good example: 
 
 That moment 1 '11 believe ye are making progress. 
 
 When ye no longer backward start with horror 
 
 At sight of gentle Death, and wrin^ your hands. 
 
 And weep, and cry that ye will not go with him, 
 
 Though only he can lead you to your heaven: 
 
 Then, then indeed, I '11 say ye have made some prog-ress. 
 
 Glenageary Cottage, DALKEY, October 1. 1851. 
 
 — — «<»<X2K^@(-€'<W>»« 
 
SIX PHOTOGRAPHS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE HEROIC TIMES. 
 
 I. The foundation of Carlhag-o. 
 
 II. The fall of Troy. 
 
 III. Voyage in the Medilerranoan. 
 
 IV. Loves and cruel death of Dido, 
 
 Queen of Carthage. 
 
 V. Funeral games. 
 
 VI. Tour in the Under- world. 
 
Begun at 6 Fitzwilliam Square, East, Dublin, in the year 1841, 
 and, after many attempts in various measures, and several 
 times printing and reprinting different parts of the work, 
 completed at Dresden, April 20. 1853. 
 
I. 
 
 1 am the same that warbled once 
 
 On oaten reed a slender song-, 
 
 Then took my way forth from the ^;v6ods, 
 
 And forced the neighbouring- tillage fields 
 
 To obey the farmer what though griping:; 
 
 A work that pleased the husbandman. 
 
 But now with triimpet-ndte I chant 
 Mars' bristling- arms and that great man 
 Whom Fate, of old, brought refugee 
 From Trojan clime to Italy, 
 And on Lavinium's sea-bord landed. 
 
 On kind and sea sore tossed was he 
 (Fell Jiino's long- -remembering ire, 
 The might divine against him moving); 
 Sorely with war, too, he was harassed, 
 Whilst into Latiam his Gods bring-ing-, 
 And founding- there a capital city. 
 From him derived our Latin race, 
 The Alban sires and high Rome's towers. 
 
 Tell the cause, Miise; the provocation; 
 For what offence against her Godhead 
 The queen of heaven from toil to toil, 
 From w^oe to woq s^ drove a man, 
 Eminent for every tender virtue. 
 Is't possible Gods can be so angry? 
 
The mouths of the Ty))er 
 And Italy facing-, 
 Beyond sea afar, 
 Florished once on a time 
 The ancient and powerful 
 City of Carthage, 
 A colony Tyrian, 
 Bitterest, most practised 
 Of war's bitter adepts. 
 
 This dwelling', they say. 
 
 More than any on earth, 
 
 More even than Samos, 
 
 Was Juno's delight; 
 
 Her chariot was here. 
 
 And here were her arms. 
 
 This city already 
 
 The Goddess designed, 
 
 And with fond care was mirsinj 
 
 To wield, might the Fates 
 
 But by some means allow it, 
 
 The sway of the world; 
 
r. 
 
 For she had heard 
 
 There was now beng reared, 
 
 From Troy's stock, a nation 
 
 Wide-riihng- and martial 
 
 Which should sometime o'erthrow 
 
 Her citadels Tyrian, 
 
 And devastate Libya; 
 
 And that the Parcae 
 
 Were rolling- things round so. 
 
 Satiirnia, this fearing-, 
 And remembering moreover 
 The inveterate war 
 That, of old, she had wag-ed 
 At Troy, for dear Argos — 
 Nor had she forgot yet 
 The keen stinging- smart 
 Which occasioned those ires; 
 In the depths of her mind stored 
 Lies Paris' wrong- judgment. 
 And slight of her beauty; 
 From how odious a first stock 
 The race had descended; 
 What an insult to her 
 Kidnapped Ganymede's honors. 
 
 W^ith these thoughts, too, fired, 
 
 From Latium she kept far. 
 
 And o'er the whole main tossed 
 
 The remnant the Danai 
 
 And ruthless Achilles 
 
 Had left of the Trojans, 
 
 And many a sea round, i 
 
 1* 
 
For many a long- year, 
 Lnpelled by tlie Fates, 
 They went wandering- on. 
 Such a coil was there founding 
 The nation of Romans. 
 
 Of the Sicih'an land 
 
 Scarce had they lost sight. 
 
 And away to the high deep 
 
 Were joyfully sailing, 
 
 And with brazen bows dashing 
 
 The salt sea -foam, 
 
 When, within her breast nursing 
 
 The wound everlasting. 
 
 Thus to herself' Jiino: — 
 
 'Am I to desist, then, o'ercome 
 
 And too weak from Italia to tiirn back 
 
 The king of the Teiicri? 
 
 Forbid by the Fates, to be sure! 
 
 But was the strength wanting- to Pallas 
 
 The fleet of the Xrgivcs to biirn, 
 
 And whelm the crews in the deep sea 
 
 For the single offending: of Ajax^ 
 
 Orieus' mad son? 
 
 Jove's rapid devouring- flame d(')wn 
 
 From the ckkids with her own hands she sh(>t. 
 
 And turned up the sea with the winds, 
 
 And scattered their vessels about. 
 
 And an Ajax, while (3ufc of his mouth 
 
 The fire that had shot hini was blazing, 
 
 With might and main hurling a r()ck, 
 
 With its sharp, craggy point pierced him through 
 
But I , both Jove's sister and wife 
 
 Whom the Gods, as 1 walk, sahite queen, 
 
 Must so many years wage war with one single nation. 
 
 Will any one henceforth adore Juno's g-odhead, 
 
 Or lay on her altar the suppliant's gift?' 
 
 Deep in her flaming breast 
 These thoughts revolving. 
 The Goddess arrives at 
 The country of storms , 
 EoUa, land teeming 
 With raging south-westers; 
 Where king Eolus rules over. 
 And, with barrier and chains 
 In a vast cave restrains 
 The strong -struggling winds 
 And tempests sonorous. 
 
 In his castled seat high 
 
 Sceptred Eolus sits, 
 
 And softens their passion, 
 
 And tempers their ires, 
 
 Else, be siire, they would bear, 
 
 And away through the air 
 
 In swift flight sweep with them 
 
 Lands, seas, and deep sky; 
 
 But the Father omnipotent, 
 
 This fearing, stowed them 
 
 Away in dark caverns, 
 
 And on top of them placed 
 
 A mass of high mountains, 
 
 And gave them a king 
 
 By the terms of his compact 
 
Bound to hold the reins tig-hter 
 Or looser, as ordered: 
 Whom Juno addressed then 
 In these suppUant words : — 
 
 '0 Eolus, for unto thee 
 The Gods' sire and king- of mankind 
 Has given the waves, to be soothed 
 Or hfted up high with the wind; 
 A people with whom I'm at war 
 Across the sea Tyrrhene is saiUng-, 
 Into Italy carrying Ilium 
 And Ilium's conquered Penates. 
 With all thy winds at them, and scatter them wide. 
 Or down in the sea's abyss plunge them, 
 And strew the whole deep with their corpses ; 
 To reward thy deservings , I'll give unto tht'C 
 Of twice seven lovely nymphs that are mine, 
 "Deiopeia, the loveliest, 
 
 To live with thee always, thy wedded wife, 
 And make thee the sire of a beauteous offspring-.' 
 
 'Be it thy task, queen, to determine thy wish', 
 
 It was thiis replied Eolus then, 
 
 'To obey thy behest shall be mine. 
 
 For this sceptred command, be it less be it more, 
 
 And the fa vol" of Jove I'm indehted to thee; 
 
 Through thy grace I recline at the feasts of the Gods, 
 
 Over stormcloud and tempest through thy grace I reign.' 
 
 Having- thiis said, he pushed 
 With his levelled spear's point 
 The mountain's side hollow, 
 
And out through the vent, 
 
 As it were in battalion, 
 
 The winds rushed, and blew 
 
 With a whirl the lands through; 
 
 And down on the sea 
 
 Dashed at once and together 
 
 South-east and Sirocco, 
 
 And Africus squally, 
 
 And turned it all lip 
 
 From its lowest bottom, 
 
 And rolled to the shore the vast billows. 
 
 What shouting- of men then ! 
 
 What creaking- of cordage! 
 
 From the eyes of the Teucri 
 
 Sudden clouds snatch away 
 
 Both the sky and the day; 
 
 Dark night on the deep broods. 
 
 Loud thunder the poles. 
 
 Ether fast flashes lig-htning-, 
 
 And every thing- 'round 
 
 Threatens death instantaneous. 
 
 Chill sudden unstrings 
 
 Eneas's limbs ; 
 
 And, with hands stretched toward heaven, 
 
 Deep groaning, he cries: — 
 
 "Happy, thrice happy, they 
 
 Wliose lot 'twas to die 
 
 Troy's high walls before 
 
 In the sight of their sires! " -^ 
 
 Ah! why could not I 
 
 By thy hand have fallen, 
 
 Tydides! most brave 
 
 Of the race of the Danai? 
 
Ah! why could not I 
 Have poured my life out 
 On the Ilian plains, 
 Where fell Hector lies low 
 By Eacides' spear, 
 Low, mig-hty Sarpedon; 
 And Simoi's' waters 
 Away in such numbers 
 Sweep helmets, and biicklers. 
 And brave heroes' corpses?" 
 
 In the midst of his raving, 
 
 A whistling- north-blast 
 
 Strikes the sail right aback, 
 
 And lifts the waves up to the stars; 
 
 The oars smash; the prow veers. 
 
 And tiirns its side round 
 
 To the steep mountain pile 
 
 Of the billow that down 
 
 On the top of it 's bearing; 
 
 On the crest of the wave 
 
 These here hang- suspended; 
 
 The wide-g-aping trough 
 
 Shows those yonder the bottom; 
 
 The surging- tide, fiirious, 
 
 Rolls with it the sands. 
 
 Sirocco three sail takes 
 
 And whirls on the rocks 
 
 The Italians call "Altars," 
 
 That, lurking^ a-midsea. 
 
 Just raise their huge hummock 
 
 To the level of the water. 
 
 Away from the deep 
 
South-east drives other three 
 
 To shallows and Syrtes, 
 
 A pity to see! 
 
 And on the banks dashes, 
 
 And girdles with diines. 
 
 Before his own eyes 
 
 A huge sea tumbles down, 
 
 And strikes on the poop 
 
 The vessel that carried 
 
 The Lycians and faithful Orontes; 
 
 Out prone on his head 
 
 The captain is tossed, 
 
 And the vessel itself, 
 
 Thrice round and round whirled 
 
 By the rapid sea-eddy, and swallowed. 
 
 Here and there in the sw-ell 
 
 An odd swimmer is seen ; 
 
 Armour, planks, Trojan treasure, 
 
 Float wide on the waters. 
 
 Of Ilioneus' stout ship 
 
 The storm now is master; 
 
 And now of the ships 
 
 Of Achates the brave, 
 
 Of Abas, and great-aged Alethes; 
 
 Throug-h tiniber-joint loose. 
 
 And wide-g-aping seam. 
 
 They let in every one 
 
 The watery foe. 
 
 Meantime perceives Neptune, 
 With no small emotion. 
 The seas troubled roaring-, 
 The tempest let loose, 
 
10 
 
 And the still iinder-watcrs 
 
 Thrown lip from the bottom; 
 
 And over the billow 
 
 His head serene raising-, 
 
 And taking- the high sea 
 
 In prospect all round, 
 
 Beholds o'er the whole deep 
 
 Eneas' fleet scattered, 
 
 And the Trojans o'erp(3wered 
 
 By the might of the waves. 
 
 And the down-rushing- sky; 
 
 When, at once recognising^ 
 
 The guile of his sister, 
 
 The anger of Juno, 
 
 He calls to him Eurus 
 
 And Zcphyrus straig-ht, 
 
 And in these words addresses: — 
 
 "Count ye so miich on your cl;in's strength, ye winds, 
 
 That, unarmed with my sanction divine, 
 
 Ye dare heaven and earth so to turn topsy-tiirvy. 
 
 And raise all this hubbub and pother? 
 
 I'll teach ye — 
 
 But these troubled wa.ves I must pacify first; 
 
 With far other penalty similar deed 
 
 Next time ye shall rue. 
 
 Away now, begone; and thus say to your king: — 
 
 Not his lot, but mine, the domain of the sea 
 
 And the terrible trident; 
 
 Your wild r()cky homes, Eurus, he holds for his portion, 
 
 They are liis [);Uace-hall; there let him bluster. 
 
 And when lie has shut up the winds in their prison. 
 
 Tyrannize as he likes, autocrat i>aram6unt." 
 
11 
 
 He said; and the swollen waves. 
 
 More quick than he spoke, stilled, 
 
 The j^athered clouds routed, 
 
 And brought back the siin. 
 
 At the same time Cymothoe 
 
 And Triton the vessels 
 
 With might and main pushing', 
 
 From the sharp rock heave 6iY; 
 
 IThnself levers with trident, 
 
 The vast Syrtes opens, 
 
 The sea surface tempers, 
 
 And on light wheels glides over 
 
 The tops of the waves. 
 
 And as oftentimes, 
 
 When the populace miisters, 
 
 A tiimult arises, 
 
 And the low, vulgar mind 
 
 Is inflamed to a rage; 
 
 Brands and stones they are flying, 
 
 Fury weapons supplying- — 
 
 Should they then chance a man 
 
 Of tried weighty merit 
 
 And piety see, 
 
 They all stand by silent, 
 
 And with ears intent listen, 
 
 While that man with his words 
 
 Rules their ires, soothes their breasts. 
 
 So subsided the whole 
 
 Crashing- roar of the sea, 
 
 As soon as the sire, 
 
 Looking- out o'er the waters, 
 
 Gave the Jash to his coursers, 
 
 And beneath the clear heaven 
 
12 
 
 Flew careerins' alon 
 
 D '-'■I'^^'O 
 
 In his fair-rollins" chariot so free. 
 
 For the nearest shore striving- 
 
 The weary Eneadae 
 
 Toward Libya's coast tiirn ; 
 
 Defended in front 
 
 And made into a port 
 
 By a sheltering- islet, 
 
 On whose seaward side 
 
 The breaking- waves riin up 
 
 In many a creek, 
 
 Lies a cove far retired; 
 
 On each side vast rocks 
 
 And a cliff to heaven towering 
 
 Between, in the gloom 
 
 Of the dark forest -landscape 
 
 That clothes the steep banks 
 
 And hangs shimmering- over, 
 
 The cove spreads its waters 
 
 In safety and silence; 
 
 In the opposite bliifT 
 
 Hanging- rocks overarch 
 
 A cave, with fresh water 
 
 And natural stone scats, 
 
 The haunt of the nymphs. 
 
 Here, where no anchor's 
 Crooked tooth fastens. 
 Where no hawser binds 
 The weary vessel, 
 Eneas with seven ships 
 Oiit of liis whole fleet 
 
T. 13 
 
 Collected, puts in. 
 The Trojans, enamoured 
 Of land, disembarking-. 
 Take possession with joy 
 Of the wished-for strand. 
 And on the shore stretch 
 Their brine-famished limbs. 
 
 And first strikes Achates 
 The spark from the flint. 
 In foliage receives it, 
 Spreads nutriment r()und it. 
 And rapidly into flame 
 Gets the dry kindling; 
 Then, sick, sore, and sorry 
 They piit into order 
 Their sea- damaged corn 
 And implements Cereal, 
 And prepare for the roasting. 
 And crushing in querns, 
 The grain they have saved. 
 
 In the meantime Eneas has climbed up the chfT, 
 And over the wide sea all round cast his view, 
 Any tempest-tossed Antheus there to discern 
 With his Phrygian biremes, or else Capys, 
 Or the arms of Caicus upon his high poops. 
 
 Not a ship is in sight ; on the shore he sees straying- 
 Three stags, and behind them the whole trooping herd 
 Coming browsing along through the vallies : 
 He stopped, and his bow and swift arrows 
 From faithful Achates' hand snatchinir. 
 
14 1. 
 
 The leaders themselves with their high heads 
 
 And wide- branching horns first laid low; 
 
 Then the whole vulgar crew with his shafts 
 
 Through the leafy glades drove in disorder; 
 
 Nor ce^ased till his victory stretched 
 
 Seven carcases hiige on the sward, 
 
 For each ship a carcase. 
 
 Returned to ,the port then the prey 
 
 Amongst all his comrades he shares, 
 
 And distributing to them the wine 
 
 Which in well-plenished casks good Acestes 
 
 Had on board their ships piit, when the hero 
 
 Bade farewell on the shores of Trinacria, 
 
 Their sad breasts w4th these words he soothes 
 
 '0 ye, not for the first time now 
 Companions of my woes, 
 Ye, wdio have worse than this endured, 
 This too the God will end. 
 
 Close lip even to the dinning reefs 
 Of rabid Scylla ye have sailed, 
 Even of the Cyclops' rocks 
 Tells your remembrance. 
 
 Call back your courage. 
 Your sad fears dismiss; 
 Perhaps even these woes too 
 Ye may with satisfaction 
 Some future time remember. 
 
 Through all these chances various, 
 These many critical conjunctures 
 
15 
 
 Wc tend toward Latiuni on, 
 ^^\Vlierc to our view the Fates 
 •Hold out a quiet home, 
 And where to rise again 
 Troy's empire is permitted. 
 Endiire, and for good times 
 Keep yourselves in reserve.' 
 
 In siich terms he spoke, 
 And with feigned look of hope 
 His sore trouble hiding, 
 Pressed deep in his heart down 
 His sorrow and care. 
 The repast to get ready 
 His comrades set to then; 
 From the game strip the skin, 
 And lay the flesh bare; 
 Then into junks ciit it, 
 And spit it still quivering; 
 While some in brass cauldrons, 
 Disposed on the shore, 
 Heat water for washing. 
 Along the grass stretched then 
 Their strength they recriiit 
 With a hearty regale 
 On the venison rich, 
 And well -seasoned wine. 
 
 Then, as soon as the good cheer 
 Their hunger had sated. 
 And the board was removed, 
 On their missing friends tiirns 
 Their long- sad discourse; 
 
16 I. 1 
 
 And sometimes the hope is 
 They 're living and well, 
 And sometimes the fear is 
 They 've suffered the worst, 
 And cannot the call hear 
 That bids them return. 
 
 And keenest of all is the grief 
 Of kindly Eneas himself, 
 As inly he mourns the misfortune 
 Of gallant Orontes and Lycus, 
 And the destiny cruel of Gyas, 
 Cloanthus and Amycus brave. 
 
 And now 'twas all over, wlien Jupiter, looking 
 From ether's top down on lands lying- below him, 
 And coasts, and wide peoples, and ship-traversed seas — 
 As tlnis upon heaven's highest top he was standing", 
 With his eyes on the Libyan realms steadfastly fixed, 
 And cares such as these in his breast was revolving-, 
 Behold Venus with somewhat of sadness accosts him, 
 And her bright eyes suffused with tears: — 
 
 *0 thou, that with eternal sway 
 
 Riilest th' affairs of Gods and men, 
 
 And wieldst the thunder's terrors, 
 
 So grievously against thee how 
 
 Could my Eneas, could Troys sons have sinned. 
 
 That after all the deaths they 've suffered 
 
 The whole wide world against them still 
 
 On Italy's account is closed? 
 
 'Tw^as thy sure promise that in lapse of years 
 
 The blood of Teiicer should revive in them, 
 
I. l" 
 
 And from tlieni come the Romans, come those chiefs 
 
 Tliat should rule paramount o'er l;ind and sea; 
 
 AVliat change of scnthnent is this? sire! 
 
 Foi: the sad ruin and do\vnf;)Il of Ti-{>y 
 
 I found my consolation in thy promise, 
 
 And the one fate repaid me for the other; 
 
 But now the same ill- fortune follows still 
 
 Men who so huig- by fortune liave ])een liJirassed. 
 
 What end, great king, appointest of our t()ils? 
 
 Escaped out of the midst of the Achivi 
 
 Antenor could his Teiicrian colony 
 
 And city of Patavium found 
 
 Far lip th' Illyrian gulf explored in safety, 
 
 Beyond the utmost realms of the Libiirni. 
 
 Beyond where through Timavus' fountains nine 
 
 The sea outbiirsting- makes the UKHuitain nimble. 
 
 And with a roaring- deluge whelms the fields; 
 
 The arms of Troy witlial he there hung- lip. 
 
 The name of Troy gave to the st;(te. and there 
 
 Reposes now in settled peace ahd quiet: 
 
 But we, thine offspring, unto whom thou gnintest 
 
 Heaven's r()yal palaces, are victimised 
 
 To gratify an individuaFs ire; 
 
 Have lost, horilblel have lost oui- ships. 
 
 Xnd from Italia's coasts are wide disst'vei'ed. 
 
 Is this the giierdon thou awj'mrst the duteous? 
 
 Is 't thiis to throne and sceptre thou restoi-'st us?" 
 
 The S(>wer of G(')ds and mi'n. with that aspect 
 "Which stills the storms and smooths the nifrhHl skies, 
 Touched with his lips his d;(ughter"s li|>s and snn'led: — 
 "Spare thy fear, Cytherea," then he >^{\u\; 
 "Thy Trojan fVites stand steadfast; 
 
18 
 
 Lavinium's promised towers thou shalt behold. 
 
 And to the stars of heaven shalt bear aloft 
 
 Mag-nanhiioiis Eneas ; 
 
 Nor knows my sentiment change. 
 
 But since this anxious care so gnaws thee 
 
 The secrets of the future I'll declare, 
 
 And, further on, the fates unroll before thee. 
 
 "In Italy a great war he shall wage, 
 
 Criish tribes ferocious, found a capital city, 
 
 And teach his people civilization's arts, 
 
 Till the Rutiilians, for three winters' space. 
 
 Have called liim conqueror, and the third siimmer 
 
 Beheld him reigning ptiramount o'er Latium. 
 
 But he that llus was while Ilium stood, 
 
 The boy Ascanius, now liikis sdrnamed, 
 
 Thirty great years through all their rolling mdnth? 
 
 Shall with his reign complete, and from Lavinium 
 
 To Tonga Alba, made a fortress strong-. 
 
 Transfer the governmental residence. 
 
 The dynasty Hectorean here shall rule 
 
 Three hundred years, until queen -priestess Ilia, 
 
 Pregnant by Mars, shall bring twain burthen forth. 
 
 Then wolf- nursed Romulus, delighted wearing- 
 
 His tawny w(>lfskin, shall receive tlie nation, 
 
 Found the strong- foj'tified Mavdrtian city. 
 
 And from his own name cill the people Rinnans. 
 
 To them 1 set no bounds of time or space, 
 
 Boundless the sway 1 have bestowed on them; 
 
 Even she, harsh Juno's self, that with her fears 
 
 Now in a ferment kee{>s earth, sea and sky. 
 
 Shall better counsel take, and with me cherish 
 
 The tdj:;aed Romans, masters of the world. 
 
19 
 
 Siich my decree, and so to me seems fit. 
 
 Elapsing- lustra shall bring- ()n a time 
 
 When upon Phtiiia and renowned Mycenae 
 
 Assaracus' house shall fix the victor's chain. 
 
 And riile liege lord of subjugated Argos. 
 
 Of Troy's fair stock shall Cesar then be born; 
 
 Whose empire, ocean, whose high fame, the stars 
 
 Alone shall limit; Cesar, Jiilius called 
 
 From thine liilus, his great ancestor. 
 
 Him too, with oriental spoils all laden, 
 
 To heaven secure at hist thou shalt receive, 
 
 And hear his name with vows and prayers invoked. 
 
 The sour- crabbed generations of the wTuld 
 
 Shall then grow mellow, and lay wars aside; 
 
 Vesta and hoary Faith shall legislate, 
 
 And the twin brothers Remus and Ouirinus. 
 
 Fast shall be closed those gates of iron dire. 
 
 Those strong- clamped ^6^// Portae; and within, 
 
 Unpitying- Fiiry , with his hands beliind him 
 
 Pinioned with a hiindred knots of brass. 
 
 On instruments of havoc shall sit, prisoner. 
 
 Roaring with horrid bloody- slavering- UKnith." 
 
 He says: and, lest in ignorance of the Fates 
 
 Dido might from her bounds warn off the Ttuici-i. 
 
 Sends from on high the son of Maia down. 
 
 To open to them hospitably wnde 
 
 The lands and castled fortress of new^ Carthage. 
 
 He, through the great air oaring, win|sjjis flight 
 
 Toward Libya's confme^, ancTrtliei^e quick alighted, 
 
 Proceeds forthwith to execute his bidding. 
 
 The Poeni at the (U')(]'s will lay aside 
 
 All bitterness of heart, all li(>stile feeling; 
 
20 
 
 Especbilly the Queen accepts a spirit 
 
 Of iientleness and iioodvvill toward the Teiicri. 
 
 o* 
 
 But, aU night through, affectionate Eneas, 
 Much pondering-, resolves to issue forth 
 At boon Ught's dawn, and the new place explore; 
 What coasts be these to which the wind has blown liini, 
 And, for he sees untilled the champaign lie, 
 \Mi6 be the tenants, whether man or beast; 
 And to his C()mrades with report return. 
 Within a w(3oded bight he liides his fleet 
 Under a steep rock's overhanging brow, 
 Wliere trees of thickest shuddering shadows round 
 ■ On all sides close it in: then in his hand 
 \ Grasping two javelins with broad blades of iron, 
 I Walks forth, attended (hily by Achates. 
 
 To him full in his path his mother 
 
 Amidst the wood presents herself, 
 
 In face and dress a Spartan maid, 
 
 And as Spartan maid accoutred, 
 
 Or like Harpalyce of Thrace 
 
 Whom panting steeds pursue in vain. 
 
 And whose swift flight outstrips swift llebrus; 
 
 For from her sh(')uklers she had hung 
 
 The huntress' lisual handy bow, 
 
 And freely her long tresses given 
 
 To the breezes to dishevel; 
 
 Naked her knee, and in a knot 
 
 Her garment's fuMness at the breast. 
 
 Tied, and confined from flowing: — 
 
21 
 
 "What, ho! young- men"; she prior thiis; 
 "Siiy, have ye chanced a sister mine, 
 With spotted lynx -hide girt and quiver, 
 Tliis way to have seen a -straying-, 
 Or witii whoop- whoop -han<')0 the chace 
 Of tlie wild foaming- boar pursuing-." 
 
 So Venus; and thus answered Venus' son: — 
 
 ''No sister thine have I or heard or seen, 
 
 0, how sliall I saliite thee, maid? for not 
 
 Mortal tiiose features, nor of eai'th that voice; 
 
 Goddess certain: art Apollo's sister? 
 
 Or of the nynjphs' blood? on us look propitious, 
 
 And our toils lig-hten, whosoe'er thou art; 
 
 And 'neath what sky we 're tossed about at last, 
 
 In wh;it world -district, teach us: of the place 
 
 And people alike ignorant we wander, 
 
 Hither by winds compelled and vasty waves. 
 
 Many the victim which, in thanks to thee. 
 
 By our right hand shall fall before thine altar." 
 
 "Of siich high honor", Venus then, 
 
 "1 deem me all unworthy. 
 
 'Tis the Tyrian m;Udens' use 
 
 To bear the quiver and to lace 
 
 The midleg- high with purple l)uskin. 
 
 He)'e thou beholdst the Punic realms, 
 
 A city of Ag-enor's s«5ns, 
 
 A Tyrian colony amidst 
 
 Libya's indomitable tribes; 
 
 Dido the ruler, from her lu'othcr 
 
 And Tyrus city hither fled. 
 
 'Twere long through ;ill its roundabouts 
 
22 
 
 The story of her wrongs to follow: 
 The principal points alone I'll touch. 
 
 "A spouse was hers, by name Sichaeus, 
 
 Richest of Phoenicia's landlords, 
 
 And dearly did the poor soul love him; 
 
 To whom her sire had given her spotless. 
 
 And in a first wedlock joined. 
 
 Biit Tyre's autocrat, Pygmalion, 
 
 Worst of bad men, was her brother; 
 
 And, in the phrensy of a feiid 
 
 That rose between him and Sichaeus, 
 
 Th' unnatural brother, blind with gold- lust, 
 
 And of his sister's loves regardless, 
 
 Came stealthily upon, and slew 
 
 Th' unwary husband at the altar; 
 
 And long- time the deed hiding, mocked 
 
 With many a wicked glozing lie 
 
 And (irnpty hope the loving bride's heartsickness. 
 
 But in a dream the very image 
 
 Of the unbiiried husband comes. 
 
 And, visage wondrous pale uplifting. 
 
 Bares the gored breast, and all reveals; 
 
 Her kin's dark crime, the cruel altars; 
 
 Then speedily to flee advises, 
 
 And leave beliind lier fatherland; 
 
 And, fiirtherance of her way, discloses 
 
 An ancient hoard, hid in the earth, 
 
 A wcright unkn()wn of g()ld and silver. 
 
 In deep em()tion Dido flight 
 
 And partnej's of her flight prepares; 
 
 Who bitterfy the tyrant hate, 
 
 Or sharply feai-, together meet, 
 
23 
 
 Ships at Jiand seize, and load with gold; 
 
 (iriping- PygniaUon's strength and substance 
 
 Away beyond the deep are borne; 
 
 A woman heads tlie enterprise. 
 
 Y()nder arrived, wliere now the hiige 
 
 Strong -bulwarked towers and citadel 
 
 01' new Carthage thou see'st rising, 
 
 Tliey buy — and from the circumstance 
 
 Call the place Byrsa — as much land 
 
 As with a bull's hide they may compass — 
 
 But ye, who are ye after all? 
 
 Hither from whence come, whither bound?' 
 
 With voice drawn from his bosom's depths, 
 
 He answers her inquiry sighing-: — 
 
 "0 Goddess, hadst thou listening leisure, 
 
 And were 1 from the first beginning 
 
 The annals of our toils to trace, 
 
 The day would close before my story, 
 
 And Vesper shiit Olympus up. 
 
 From ancient Troy, if on thine ears 
 
 Troy's name perhaps hath ever sounded, 
 
 Through many a far sea voyaging, 
 
 A tempest's cliance h;ith here at last 
 
 Upon the coast of J.ibya thrown us. 
 
 My name 's Eneas, ether high 
 
 Famous for deeds of charity; 
 
 Across the sea 1 carry with me. 
 
 Saved from the foe -midst, my Penates, 
 
 In search of fatherland Italia, 
 
 And my kin sprung from Jove supreme. 
 
 Pursuing pre- appointed fates, 
 
 My Goddess -mother the way showing, 
 
24 
 
 With twice ten vessels 1 embarked 
 Upon the Phrygian sea- plain; 
 Shattered by Eiirus and the waves, 
 Scarce seven are now surviving-; 
 From Europe and from Asia driven. 
 Myself unknown and needy here 
 The Libyan wastes am roaming." 
 
 V^enus, no further plaint permitting-, 
 Thiis interr-dpts him midst his grief: — 
 "Not wholly unacceptable 
 To the celestial powers, I ween, 
 Breath'st tliou the vital air, 
 
 thou, whoe'er thou art, that here 
 Drawest nigh the Tyrian city; 
 Only proceed, and hold thee on 
 Hence to the precincts of the Queen. 
 For, if the art of ;'ui'-;ury 
 
 Not vainly my fond parents taught me, 
 
 1 am tlic herald of the news 
 That thy vessels with their crews 
 By the veering round north-easter 
 
 Have ])een brought l^ack, and lodged in safety 
 
 Yon troop of twice six swans behold 
 
 Wiiich l3ut just now the bird of Jove, 
 
 From tract ethereal swijoping down, 
 
 TluMjugh the open sky was driving; 
 
 How joyous tlu'y, in long array 
 
 Now on the ground ahghting-. 
 
 And now up()n tlie wing- again, 
 
 Already seeming- to look down 
 
 With sc()rn upon their place of refuge : 
 
 Jiist as those swans on whii-riiig wings 
 
25 
 
 After their safe retiii'ii are sporting-, 
 
 And wheel their circles round the sky, 
 
 And sini,^ their song of jiibilee, 
 
 Thy ships and crews are safe in port, 
 
 Or enter in full sail the road. 
 
 Only proceed and let tliy steps 
 
 F<3ilow the guidance of the path." 
 
 She s-iid: and as she turned away. 
 Her neck shone rosy l)rig-ht. 
 From her long- hair and crown of her head 
 Breathed a divine ambrosial odour, 
 Down to her foot- sole flowed her robe. 
 And her gait told the Goddess. 
 
 He recognised, and with these words 
 His m(')ther, as slie fled, pursued: — 
 "Ah cruel tliou too! why thy son 
 Mock'st thou so 6ft with shapes illusive? 
 Wliy not to j(jin right hands permitted. 
 And converse hold in terms unfeig-ned?" 
 With siich words of reproach he turns 
 His footsteps toward the city. 
 
 But Venus round them, as they g'6. 
 Throws a thick fence of miirky air. 
 And hi an ample cloudy cloak 
 The Goddess wraps them lip; 
 That no one see or touch them may. 
 Or work them stop or work them stay, 
 Or why they (^(une inquire; 
 Away for Pa[>hus then she soars, 
 And the seats revisits joyful, 
 
26 
 
 Where of fresh wreaths 
 Her temple breathes, 
 And her hundred altars g-low 
 With frankincense Sabaean. 
 
 Meanwhile, where the path points the way, 
 
 They have hastily bouned them aloni^-, 
 
 And already the great hill are climbing-, 
 
 That, over the city immediately rising. 
 
 Looks down on the citadel's opposite towers. 
 
 Eneas with wonder the vast fabric views 
 
 Which once was no more than an African knial, 
 
 With wonder the gates views, and loud noisy streets; 
 
 The Tyrians, they lirge their work ardently on; 
 
 The walls some are rearing, or rolling up stones. 
 
 And building- the castle; selecting sites some, 
 
 Or with a plough -furrow the whole round enclosing. 
 
 They are biisy with lawgiving too, and elect 
 
 The sacred senate and magistrates; 
 
 Here some dig the harbour, while others there 
 
 The theatre's deep foundations are laying. 
 
 And the hiige colunms quarry that shall the stage 
 
 So loftily ornament hereafter. 
 
 So, through the flowery champaign wide, 
 Toil buSy bees beneath young summer's siin, 
 The nation's full grown progeny bringing out; 
 Or packing in the cells, until they bulge. 
 The honey's liquid ;ind nectareous sweets; 
 Or lightening the ai-rivers of their loads; 
 Or marshalling batt;ilions, and away 
 Driving tlie lazy dnuie-crew from the stalls; 
 
27 
 
 Wt'u'iii i^Iows the \v()rk, and fragrant smells of thyme 
 The savory huiiey. 
 
 "Happy, whose towers already rise!" 
 Eneas says, the city summits 
 Eyeing' with lipward glance; 
 Then, in his cloudy mantle wrapped, 
 Enters, and mixes with the crowd. 
 Wondrous to tell! unseen of any. 
 
 Amidst the city stood a grove 
 
 Of most delightful shade; 
 
 Where erst the wind- and- wave- tossed Poeni 
 
 The mettled courser's head exhumed. 
 
 Token, by royal Juno given. 
 
 That there , a wealthy warrior nation, 
 
 Ages on ages they should florish. 
 
 To Jiino here Sidonian Dido 
 A temple's fabric vast was building-; 
 Rich in thank-offerings was the fane, 
 And in the Goddess' gracious presence; 
 On bronze steps rose its front of bronze, 
 W^ith bronze doors on their hinges grating-; 
 Its bronze roof on bronze pillars rested. 
 
 In this grove first presents hsclf 
 A new and fear -assuaging sight; 
 llei-e first Eneas dares to cherish 
 A ln')pe of safety, and to triist 
 That all perhaps is not yet lost. 
 
28 I. 
 
 For whilst, in the huge fane, awaiting- the queen, 
 
 He surveys every object around, 
 
 And with wonder reflects on the city's good fortune. 
 
 With wonder observes the harmonious result 
 
 Of the various artilicers' skill. 
 
 And ponders the toil of the work; 
 
 He beholds there in series the Ilian battles. 
 
 And the wars by fame published now through the whole world : 
 
 The Atridae and Priam he there beholds, 
 
 And Achilles, tlie fell foe of both. 
 
 He stood still ; and with tears said : " What place now, Achates, 
 
 What region on earth is not fiill of our toils? 
 
 See Priam: desert even here hath its guerdon, 
 
 Even here human misery touches the heart. 
 
 Fear not: for believe me this fame here 
 
 Will bring- us some safety." 
 
 So saying, he fed his mind (5n the void picture, 
 Much g-roaning, and fl()ods of tears wetting his lace; 
 For he saw, in the war around Perganms wi'iging-, 
 How here fled the Graii, and Troy's youth pressed on ; 
 Whilst, by crested Achilles pursued in his car, 
 There the Phrygians were fleeing-; 
 
 Nor far oir, tlu'ough his fast flowing teai-s recognises. 
 With their snow-white tent-sheets, thepavihons of Rhesus; 
 Which Tydides all bloody, and reeking with carnage. 
 In the fii'st faithless sleep has surprised and laid waste, 
 And away toward his cam|> turns the fiery coursers. 
 Before they have; tasted the fodder of Troy, 
 Or driink of the Xanthus. 
 
T. 29 
 
 And yonder see Troi'liis; unfortunate youth, 
 
 Who would co[)e, though no match, with Achilles! 
 
 His arms they are lost, and away he has fled, 
 
 And his horses they drag him along, 
 
 To the empty car chnging-, and holding the reins; 
 
 Na[)e and shoulders and long hair are sweeping the ground, 
 
 And the point of his spear, trailed behind, marks the dust. 
 
 All suppliant, sad. With dishevelled hair. 
 
 And smiting their breasts with their palms. 
 
 To the temple of unjust Pallas meanwhile 
 
 The Mian matrons are wending. 
 
 And the Pcplum bear with them along-: 
 
 But the Goddess away from them turns, and her eyes 
 
 Keeps steadfastly fixed on the ground. 
 
 Round Ilium's walls had Achilles 
 
 In fiiry dragged Hector thrice, 
 
 And for gold was now selling the corpse. 
 
 Sore indeed was his groan from the depth of his loreast, 
 
 When the chariot he saw, and the spoils, 
 
 And the body itself of his friend. 
 
 And Priam forth -stretching his helpless hands. 
 
 With the chiefs of the Achivi in melee 
 
 Himself too he recognised there, 
 
 And l)lack Memnon's arms, and the ranks Eoan; 
 
 And Penthesilea leads fiiriously on 
 
 Her Amazon bands crescent- shielded; 
 
 With a belt of gold buckled beneath her l)are pap, 
 
 She rages and burns midst the thousands, --■■- ■-. 
 
 A warrior maiden with men coping fearless. 
 
30 T. 
 
 Whilst Dardan Eneas these wonders is viewing-, 
 
 And fixed in one gaze stands astonished, 
 
 With large escort of youths to the temple the Queen conies, 
 , Most beautiful Dido. 
 
 I On Cynthus' heights so, or the banks of Eurotas, 
 I Diana comes dancing, with quiver on sh(5ulder, 
 1 And all overtopping her goddess train 
 
 Of a thousand encircling Oreads, 
 
 Whilst silent joy thrills Latona's breast. 
 
 Such was Dido, and so through the midst of the throng 
 
 She bore herself joyous and stately along. 
 
 And pressed on with the works of her future kingdom. 
 
 In front of the doors of the Goddess' cell then, 
 
 Hig-h raised on a throne, she takes her seat 
 
 Underneath the vaulted dome of the t(imple, 
 
 And fenced round with guards, issues edicts and laws, 
 
 Into equal portions the works divides, 
 
 Or by lottery assigns to each his portion. 
 
 When, all on a sudden, Eneas sees, 
 
 Accompanied by a great concourse, approaching, 
 
 Antheus, Sergestus, and brave Cloanthus, 
 
 And those other Teiicri, whom over the sea -plain 
 
 The black whirling tempest had scattered abcWit. 
 
 And quite carried off to other shores. 
 
 With gladness, and fear, and astonishment litter 
 
 Himself and Achates are both struck alike. 
 
 And, though eagerly burning to clasp their friends' right hands, 
 
 Dare not venture, in ignorance how stands the case; 
 
 They dissimulate therefore, and wrapt in their chWid, 
 
 Reconnoitre what fortune their friends has befallen. 
 
 On what shores left their ships, and why they come thither; 
 
31 
 
 For out of each ship representatives there 
 
 To the temple were hiehii^- with loud cries for gnice. 
 
 So, when they have entered, and leave 
 
 To speak in the presence is granted, 
 
 With w()rds, such as tliese, from liis cahn ])reast 
 
 lUoneus mighty begins: — 
 
 "0 Queen, on wiiom Jove has conferred 
 
 Tlie privilege to found a new city, 
 
 And with law's curb restrain haughty tribes. 
 
 We wretched Trojans, o'er all seas 
 
 Blown about by the winds, beg and pray thee. 
 
 Save our ships from the threatened flames' lu>rrors. 
 
 Spare a people well moralled and honest, 
 
 And into our case look more closely. 
 
 We come not with havoc and slaughter 
 
 To devastate Libya's homesteads, 
 
 Or down to the shore drive a booty; 
 
 To men, like us conquered, belongs not 
 
 That violent high -daring spirit. 
 
 -There's an ancient land, warlike and fertile, 
 
 Ilesperia the Gran call it. 
 
 Which once the Oenotrii tilled. 
 
 Whose successors, fame says, name it now 
 
 From the name of a chieftain, Italia. 
 
 •'Thither our course was, when, rising 
 
 With sudden surge, stormy Orion 
 
 With his boisterous sckith- westers wholly 
 
 Dispersed us, and cast us away 
 
 On blind shoals and impassable rocks. 
 
32 
 
 With the briny surf over us breaking: 
 
 To these coasts of yours we few have floated. 
 
 "But what race of men this? or what country 
 
 So barbarous a lisag-e permits? 
 
 They meet us with war, and forbid us 
 
 On the edg-e of the land to set b)Ot. 
 
 If men ye contemptuous spurn, 
 
 And man's retribution, remember 
 
 At least that the Gods keep acc()unt 
 
 Of what 's righteously done, and what wr(')n,i;. 
 
 Eneas our King- was, than whom 
 
 None was ever in martial deeds greater. 
 
 More correct in his C()nduct toward others, 
 
 Or in life's tender charities richer: 
 
 If, not yet to the cniel shades siink down, 
 
 That man the ethereal air breathes, 
 
 And the Fates still preserve him alive, 
 
 Fear not thou shalt ever repent thee 
 
 Of getting- the forehand of him 
 
 In courtesy's offices kind. 
 
 In Sicily, too, w^e 've a city 
 
 And friends who know h()w to wield arms. 
 
 And of Trojan stock c(5mes famed Acestcs. 
 
 "Permit us our sea- shattered vessels 
 On dry land to dniw up, some timbers 
 To fit in the woods, peel some oars: 
 That with joy we may steer for Italia, 
 Should it be in the fates that once mure. 
 With comrades recovered and King- 
 For Italia and L;itium we steer; 
 But if our salvation 's (juite gone. 
 
33 
 
 And the depths of the Libyan sea hold thee, 
 
 most excellent sire of tlie Teiicri, 
 
 And lost to us also for ever 
 
 The promise we had in Iiilus, 
 
 At least let's return to the home, 
 
 Left behind us on Sicily's coast, 
 
 And take King- Acestes for King." 
 
 So Ilioneus; and the Dardanidae 
 
 Shouted with one voice assent. 
 
 Her mind then briefly Dido thus, 
 
 With modest, downcast look delivers: — 
 
 ''Dismiss fear from your hearts, Teiicri, 
 
 Your anxious cares cast far away; 
 
 A stern necessity compels me 
 
 To take these measures, and to guard 
 
 My new-made realms with watch and ward. 
 
 Who knows not the Eneadae? 
 
 Troy's city linto whom unknown, 
 
 And its heroic deeds and heroes, 
 
 And that g-reat war's conflagration? 
 
 We Poeni bear not hearts so dull, 
 
 Nor from this our Tyrian city 
 
 Does Sol, when he yokes his horses. 
 
 So tiirn away his face with horror. 
 
 Whether your choice be great Hesperia, 
 
 And the fields, called after Saturn; 
 
 Or Eryx' territories rather. 
 
 And the domains of King Acestes, 
 
 I'll send you safely on your way, 
 
 And with all necessaries help you. 
 
 Should you prefer to settle here 
 
 In these my realms along with me, 
 
 3 
 
34 
 
 Draw lip your ships upon the h'nul; 
 
 Yours is the city 1 am building-; 
 
 Trojan and Tyrian shall by me 
 
 On equal terms be treated ever; 
 
 And would that here were present now 
 
 Your King- Eneas, by the same 
 
 South blast compelled; at least I'll send 
 
 Triisty scouts out along- the shore, 
 
 And bid them search the whole length of Libya, 
 
 Lest by some chance, in wood or city 
 
 A shipwrecked sailor he may wander." 
 
 Cheered by these words, Achates brave 
 
 And sire Eneas from the cloud 
 
 To break forth for some time were burning, 
 
 And first Achates to Eneas: — 
 
 "What thinkst thou now, Goddess -born? 
 
 That every thing- is safe thou see'st, 
 
 Thy fleet and friends recovered all, 
 
 One only missing- whom ourselves 
 
 Beheld amidst the billows sunk; 
 
 All else is as thy mother promised." 
 
 Scarce uttered were the words, when all at once 
 
 The circumambient cloud divides itself, 
 
 And clears away into the open ether. 
 
 And forth Eneas stood in the clear light 
 
 Refulgent, face and shoulders like a God; 
 
 For into the son's eyes the mother's self 
 
 Had breathed bright gladness, and his face adorned 
 
 With youth's fresh roseate hiie and ringlets fair; 
 
 Like ivory he looked which workman's hands 
 
1. 35 
 
 Had polished to the litmost, or Uke silver, 
 Or Parian iiuirble, set in yellow g(>ld. 
 
 The Queen he then addresses, and to all 
 
 Thus, unexpected, of a sudden speaks: — 
 
 "Here in your presence am I whom ye seek, 
 
 Trojan Eneas, snatched from the Libyan waves. 
 
 thou, who sole Troy's criiel sufferings pitiest, 
 
 \Vh6 to be partners of thy home and city 
 
 Tak'st lis, poor* remnant by the Danai" left, 
 
 Us, destitute of all things, and exhausted 
 
 By every evil chance of land and sea; 
 
 Becoming' th anks exceed our power, Dido, 
 
 Exceed the power of the whole Dardan race, 
 
 Wherever through the wide world now they're scattered. 
 
 The Gods, if Gods there be that look with h'lvor 
 
 On human deeds of charity and kindness, 
 
 If anywhere at all there is respect 
 
 For conscientious uprightness of conduct. 
 
 Bestow a worthy recompcnce upon thee. 
 
 So long as rivers riin into the sea. 
 
 And hollows in the bosom of the mountains 
 
 Are slowly coursed round by the mountain shadows, 
 
 And by the firmament the stars are fed, 
 
 So long for ever last thy name, praise, glory, 
 
 Let me be cahed to whate'er lands 1 may." 
 
 He said, and with his right hand clasped the hand 
 
 Of his friend llioneus, Serestus' hand 
 
 Caught with his left; dien greeting like bestowed 
 
 On Gyas brave, brave Cloanth, and the rest. 
 
 Struck with the first sight of the hero, 
 And by his great misfortune moved. 
 
36 I. 
 
 Thus answered then Sidonian Dido : — 
 
 "What evil chance, Goddess -born. 
 
 With all these perils pursues thee? 
 
 To these uncouth wild shores of ours 
 
 What force superior drives thee? 
 
 Art thou that same Eneas whom 
 
 Boon Venus to Anchises Dardan 
 
 Bore beside Phryg-ian Simoi's' wave? 
 
 And well 1 recollect when Teiicer, 
 
 From his native realms expelled^' 
 
 To Sidon and my father came. 
 
 In search of a new realm in Cyprus, 
 
 Fruitful land, just then o'erriin 
 
 By my father Belus' arms, 
 
 And (it his absolute disposal. 
 
 From that time forth well known to me 
 
 The Trojan city's evil fortune, 
 
 Thy name, and the Pelasg-ian Kings. 
 
 Himself, the foe, used to extol 
 
 With no common praise the Teiicrr, 
 
 And from the ancient Tedcrian stock 
 
 His own descent was fain to trace. 
 
 Come then, young- men, my dwelling- enter: 
 
 Here in this land at last to settle. 
 
 After long biiffetings about, 
 
 A fortune like your own has willed me. 
 
 Experienced m misfortune, 1 
 
 Have learned to help th' unfortunate." 
 
 I 
 
 phe says; and into the house royal 
 At the same time leads Eneas, 
 At the same time in the temples 
 To the Gods bids thanks be offered; 
 
T. 37 
 
 Nor meantime nei^lects to send 
 To the shore down and his comrades 
 Twenty oxen, and a hundred 
 Bristly broad-chined swine immense, 
 Fat lambs with their dams a hundred, 
 And the God's enlivening- g-ift. 
 
 With splendor, meanwhile, and luxury royal 
 
 The house far within is laid out for the banquet; 
 
 Of crimson sup^lTiBKthe richly wrought cloths; 
 
 The vast service, of silver and g-old; 
 
 Where traced in relief were th' exploits of their sires 
 
 From the first ancient rise of the nation down 
 
 Through many a hero in long, long array. 
 
 But Eneas — a father's love kept him unquiet — 
 
 Beforehand to the ships swift Achates despatched, 
 
 To acquaint, and conduct to the city, Ascanius; 
 
 Ascanius, his dear parent's whole thought and care: 
 
 Gifts too bade him bring, snatched from Ilion's riiins, 
 
 The mantle all stiff with embroidered gold figures. 
 
 And with saffron Acanthus round bordered the wimple; 
 
 Attire ornamental of Argive Helen, 
 
 Her mother Leda's gift wondrously fair. 
 
 And out of Mycenae brought with her by Helen, 
 
 When for Pergamus she bouned her and nuptials illicit. 
 
 The sceptre too, whilom by Ilione borne, 
 
 Of the daughters of Priam the eldest. 
 
 And the pearl chain which she wore on her neck. 
 
 And double gold coronet studded with jewels. 
 
 To despatch these commissions Achates 
 
 His way to the shii)s was wending. 
 
38 I. 
 
 But Cytherea a new scheme is planning-, 
 
 A new cunning- scheme in her breast, 
 
 How Cupid his figure and features should change, 
 
 And, going in sweet Ascanius's place, 
 
 Kindle to fiiry the Queen with the presents. 
 
 And into her inmost bones work the fire; 
 
 The family duplicity 'tis she 's afraid of, 
 
 And the double-tongued Tyi^ians, 1 ween; 
 
 And sorely atrocious Juno frets her, /^_? 
 
 And still with re tiiri iing- night cdiSESia^ her care. 
 
 So in words, such as these, winged Love she addresses :- 
 
 "0 son, my great strength and efficience; 
 
 son, who alone at nought settest 
 
 The supreme Father's weapons Typhcjean, 
 
 To thee I fly suppliant, imploring thy G(5dhead. 
 
 How thy brother Eneas sea -tost is thou knowst, 
 
 From shore to shore round by unfair Juno's spite, 
 
 And 6ft with my sorrow thou hast sympathised; 
 
 Him Dido Phoenician has hold of, and, coaxing- 
 
 With soft soothing words, makes to stay; 
 
 And Juno, 1 fear, plays not hostess for nothing-, 
 
 And in so great a crisis will not sit idle. 
 
 To be beforehand with her therefore Fm plotting-. 
 
 And with such a flame round to encompass the Queen, 
 
 That with love strong- as mine she may doat on Eneas, 
 
 Beyond any God's power to swerve her or change. 
 
 How best thou mayst do this now hear my opinion. 
 
 "The r()yal boy, my care most especial. 
 
 At his dear sire's summons to go is preparing- 
 
 To the city Sidonian, and bears with him gifts 
 
 Whicli the sea liave survived and the llames of Troy. 
 
I. 39 
 
 Into a deep sleep letliargic I'll piit him, 
 
 And on lofty Cythera or Mons Idalius 
 
 Within the sanctided precincts hide him, 
 
 That by no possibility he may know, 
 
 Or be able to thwart our stratagem. 
 
 Thou, a boy, the boy personate, and for no more 
 
 Than one single night, his known features put on, 
 
 That, when in the height of the royal repast, 
 
 And flow of the liquor Lyaean, 
 
 To her bosom most joyous Dido shall take thee, 
 
 x\nd hiig, and imprint with sweet kisses, 
 
 Thou mayst into her breathe the fire occult. 
 
 And poison her unsuspected." 
 
 Love obeys his dear parent's words, doffs his wings, 
 
 And walks with the gait of lulus, delighted. 
 
 But Venus the limbs of Ascanius bedews 
 
 With placid sleep, and, cuddled in her bosom the Goddess 
 
 Bears him lip to the high sacred groves of Idalia, 
 
 Where soft marjoram wraps him about with its flowers 
 
 And sweet odoriferous shade. 
 
 And now the behest of his parent obeying, 
 And to the Tyrians the royal gifts bearmg, 
 Cupid, led by Achates, hied joyful along. 
 The Queen had her place at the head of the table, 
 Before he came, taken, and on the gold sofa 
 Disposed herself seemly beneath the superb dais. 
 Now arrives sire Eneas, and Troy's youth arrive, 
 And recline in their places on coverlets crimson; 
 Man -servants with water to wash hands present them, 
 And fine napless towels; and serve bread from baskets. 
 Fifty maids are within, charged to set in due order, 
 
40 I. 
 
 And prepare for the table the long- stock of viands, 
 
 And to the Penates keep blazing' the fire. 
 
 Maids a hundred, and equal -ag:ed pag-es as many 
 
 The plates plenish heavy, and set down the wine- cups; 
 
 And in through the glad g-ates the Tyrians come pouring-, 
 
 And on broidered cloth cushions recline each where bid. 
 
 With wonder they gaze on the gifts of Eneas, 
 
 And on the God's mimic Iiilus with wonder, 
 
 How flushed are his features! how eag-er he talks! 
 
 And then on the mantle, and then on the wimple 
 
 With saffron Acanthus embroidered all round. 
 
 But, more than the rest all, the hapless Phoenissa, 
 
 Doomed so soon to that plague to be victimised, 
 
 By the boy and the gifts alike fired, g-azes on, 
 
 And, the long-er she gazes, the longer would gaze. 
 
 But the boy round Eneas's neck having hiing, 
 
 And his deluded sire's love gratified, 
 
 Is away to the Queen, who, with her eyes, on him, 
 
 And all her whole heart, doats, and to her lap takes him, 
 
 And cuddles between -whiles: Ah! Httle wots Dido 
 
 What a mighty God there of her lap sits possessor. 
 
 Then his mother's commands Acidalian obeying, 
 
 He begins from her bosom to blot out Sichaeus, 
 
 And tries from a dead love to tiirn to a living 
 
 Her languid and long unaccustomed heart. 
 
 The service removed, and the feast at a pause, 
 
 They set the great wine- cups and crown them; 
 
 The din the whole house fills, as through the wide halls 
 
 They send rolling their voices; 
 
 Burning lamps hang suspended from ceilings of gold. 
 
 And the flambeau's flame conquers the night. 
 
I. 41 
 
 Here the Queen for the jewelled and heavy gold bowl calls 
 
 Which Beliis and Belus' successors used ever, 
 
 And with the pure jiiice of the grape fills it lip, 
 
 And says after silence obtained through the building: — 
 
 "0 Jupiter, for in all things, appertaining 
 
 To the rights of the stranger, they say, thou art lord; 
 
 May this day a day of joy be to the Tyrians, 
 
 A day of joy be to our guests here of Troy, 
 
 And by those to come after us held in remembrance; 
 
 May joy-giving Bacchus and bountiful Jiino 
 
 Be here with us present, and ye in this meeting 
 
 With warm hearts and kind wishes, Tyrians, take part." 
 
 Having thiis said, she poured on the table the homage, 
 Then the bowl of libation just touched with her lips. 
 And handed to Bitias with challenge and chiding ; 
 Nor loth at all he took the swilling gold bowl, 
 And drenched himself well with the foaming liquor; 
 So one after another the rest of the nobles. 
 
 And long -tressed lopas sang to his gold kite 
 The lore he had learned of Atlas the mighty. 
 The moon's wanderings sang, and the toils of the siin, 
 W^hence men and beasts came, whence came water and fire; 
 Of Arctiirus he sang, and the Hyades rainy. 
 And of the two Bears; and why in such hurry- 
 To dip in the ocean are midwinter's siins. 
 While its nights dip so slow — what is it delays them? 
 Repeated the plaudits of Tyrian and Trojan; 
 The former the way lead, the latter come after. 
 With various discourse, too, unfortunate Dido 
 Protracted the night, and of love deeply drank; 
 About Priam asking oft many a question, 
 
42 I. 
 
 And many a question about Hector 6ft; 
 
 Now, the horses of Diomede what were they Hke ; 
 
 And now, was Achilles of stature so mig-lity : — 
 
 ''Nay, come, guest, and tell us the whole tale", she says, 
 
 ''From the very beginning-; the Danai', their ambush. 
 
 Thy country's misfortunes, and how, for seven summers, 
 
 Over all lands and waves thou art wandering about." 
 
II. 
 
 All g-nzed intent, and listened, 
 When from the higli sofa thiis 
 Eneas sire began : — 
 
 "Thou bidst, Queen, revive 
 That agony of grie^,,,^,^. 
 How lamentably fell, 
 By the Danai overthrown, 
 The puissant realm of Troy; 
 What harrowing sights I saw, 
 Myself a siifTerer chief. 
 Who could from tears refrain, 
 Siich a theme discoursing, 
 What Myrmidon, or Dolops, 
 Or hard Ulysses' soldier? 
 And now down from the sky 
 Precipitous speeds damp night. 
 And star- set counsels sleep; 
 Yet, if to have acquaintance 
 With our misfortunes' story, 
 And briefly hear rehited 
 The closing woe of Troy, 
 So strong- be thy desire, 
 I will the task attempt, 
 
44 11 
 
 1 , Thoug^h with horror my sad soul 
 ; Shrinks from the recollection. 
 
 \ 
 
 *' "War- worn, and by the Fates repulsed, 
 
 The chieftains of the Danai", 
 
 So many years away now gliding-, 
 
 Build, with Palladian art divine, 
 
 A horse w^ith ribs of cloven pine. 
 
 And hiige as any mountain; 
 
 For their return pretend it vowed, 
 
 And that riimor spread abroad, 
 
 But in its dark side privily 
 
 Enclose a band of soldiers armed. 
 
 By lot selected, and completely 
 
 Filling its vast cavernous womb. 
 
 "Within view of the Trojan coast 
 Lies Tenedos' most famous isle. 
 Wealthy, whilst Priam's empire stood ; 
 Now but a bay, and faithless roadstead; 
 Thither they Sc4il across, and lie 
 Ensconced on the deserted shore: 
 We make no doubt but they have left us, 
 And departed for Mycenae. 
 
 "All Teiicria her long mourning now 
 
 Has therefore cast aside: 
 
 'Tis pleasant through the opened gates 
 
 To sally forth, and see 
 
 A desert all , the Doric camp ; 
 
 And the sea -coast left free: — 
 
 "Twas here the band Dolopian pitched. 
 
 Dreadful Achilles there; 
 
11. 45 
 
 This was the station for the ships, 
 And that the battle field.' 
 
 "Some at the huge bulk of the horse, 
 Virgin Minerva's deadly present, 
 Gaze with astonishment and wonder; 
 And first Thymoetes, either guileful, 
 Or because the fates of Troy 
 Now at last that way were bearing. 
 Exhorts within the walls to draw it, 
 And place it in the citadel. 
 But Ciipys and the wiser sort 
 into the sea would headlong throw 
 The stratagem of the Danai'; 
 Or, with flames set underneath it, 
 The suspicious present biirn; 
 Or else bore into, and explore 
 The hollow hidings of its womb. 
 
 "Divided betwixt opposite counsels, 
 
 The uncertain crowd stands wavering, 
 
 When foremost there before them all 
 
 From the high citadel runs down, 
 
 By a great crowd accompanied, 
 
 Laocoon ardent, and exclaims, 
 
 While yet afar: — 'What so great madness, 
 
 wretched citizens, is this? 
 
 The foe's departure credit ye? 
 
 Or think ye there can presents be 
 
 Of the Dcinai', without guile? 
 
 Is this your knowledge of Ulysses? 
 
 Either, shut lip within this wood, 
 
 Concealed Achivi lie, 
 
46 
 
 Or 'tis an engine they have built, 
 Our houses to espy, 
 And on our town, despite our walls, 
 To come down from on high. 
 Triist not, Teiicri, in this horse; 
 Some latent cheat is here; 
 Howe'er it be, with all their gifts, 
 These Danai" 1 fear.' 
 
 "He said, and 'g-ainst the compact side 
 
 Of the beast's well rcnmded belly 
 
 Hurled with powerful strength his spear: 
 
 Fixed in the wood 
 
 Quivering it stood; 
 
 With a hollow groaning sound 
 
 The womb's caverns rebound. 
 
 "Then, had the Gods' fates biit permitted, 
 
 Nor infatuate been our minds. 
 
 He had impelled us to demolish 
 
 With rude steel the lair ArgoUc, 
 
 And thou, Troy, wert now surviving-. 
 
 And Priam's high citadel standing now. 
 
 "But see yon Dardan shepherds dragging- 
 With great clamor, to the King, 
 A youth with hands behind his back bound, 
 Wlio, of his own accord, himself 
 Unknown had in their way presented. 
 This very purpose to effect. 
 And open Troy so to the Achivi; 
 Assured of spirit, and alike 
 For each alteinative prepared; 
 
II. 47 
 
 To succeed with his imposture, 
 Or submit to certain death. 
 
 "The youths of Troy on every side 
 Pour rushing- round, to see desirous; 
 And strive, who most will mock the captive. 
 Now hear the stratagem of the Danai', 
 And from the single villainy learn 
 What villains they are all. 
 
 "For as full in the g-eneral g-aze, 
 Confused and helpless, there he stood, 
 And looked round on the Phrygian bands : — 
 'Alas ! in what land or what sea 
 Can 1 take refuge now?' he cries; 
 'Or what resource left for a wretch 
 Whose place among the Danai" 's lost, 
 And for the forfeit of whose life 
 Even the Dardanidae call in anger?' 
 
 "Changed by that cry our minds, and all 
 Violence repressed: we lirge our prisoner 
 To speak, and let us hear his story; 
 What blood flows in his veins, on what 
 Strong point rests mainly his reliance. 
 He throws fear off at last, and says: — 
 
 'Triie confession of the whole matter, 
 
 Let it have been wiiat it will, 
 
 1 shall make to thee, King. 
 
 In the first place, I deny not 
 
 That I'm of the Argoiic nation; 
 
 For, though Fortune made him wretched. 
 
48 II. 
 
 Never shall that reprobate 
 Make a cheat and liar of Sinon. 
 
 'To your ears report perhaps has 
 
 Brought the glorious, wide -spread name 
 
 Of Palamedes, son of Belus ; 
 
 Whom, when a false cry rose of treason, 
 
 A nefarious information's 
 
 Guiltless victim, whose sole crime was 
 
 That he raised his voice against war, 
 
 The^ Pelasgi sent to death down, 
 
 And lament, now that he 's dead. 
 
 'Me, that Palamedes' kinsman, 
 
 Hither with him as companion, 
 
 And to learn to be a soldier, 
 
 My poor sire in early youth sent. 
 
 Long- as he stood firm, and florished 
 
 A prince among consulting princes, 
 
 I too bore some name and honor; 
 
 Biit when Ulysses' cozening malice — • 
 
 Well known are the facts 1 tell — 
 
 To quit this upper world compelled him, 
 
 I, with shattered fortunes, dragged on 
 
 A life of gloom and misery; 
 
 And o'er my guiltless friend's misfortune 
 
 Chafed within myself, indignant; 
 
 Nor, madman that I was, kept silence, 
 
 But roused against me bitter hatreds 
 
 With threats of vengeance, should chance offer, 
 
 And should I to my native Argos 
 
 Ever return with victory. 
 
49 
 
 " Hence my first blii;ht of misfortune, 
 
 Hence Ulysses witli new charges 
 
 Still terrified me; words ambiguous 
 
 Still amidst the rabble scattered; 
 
 Still sought weapons wherewithal 
 
 To execute designs close hidden 
 
 From all except his secret conscience; 
 
 Till at last by means of Calchas — 
 
 But why th' ungrateful tale 
 
 Thiis repeat in vain? 
 
 Or wherefore dally? 
 
 For you, who think the Achivi 
 
 Are all of the same kind, 
 
 'Tis enough that ye have heard 
 
 I am one of the Achivi; 
 
 Take the penalty at once 
 
 Ye should long ago have taken: 
 
 'Tis the very consummation 
 
 Which Ithacus desires, 
 
 And which at a great price 
 
 The Atridae fain would piirchase.' 
 
 "Then, then indeed, we 're all on fire 
 To ask him questions, and to hear 
 Some explanation of the matter; 
 Little aware of the deep guile 
 And villainy of the Pelasgi. 
 Trembling he goes on with his gl(>zing. 
 
 ' Oft times the weary Danai" 
 Desired to take their flight, 
 To leave Troy behind them, 
 And abandon the long war; 
 
50 
 
 And I wish to heaven, they had; 
 
 But the rough and stormy sea 
 
 Intercepted 6ft the way, 
 
 And Auster 6ft deterred them, 
 
 When 6n the point to g6. 
 
 Ab6ve all, when of maple -planks 
 
 Firmly knit together 
 
 This horse here was set up, 
 
 Over the whole ether 
 
 St6rm- clouds brattled. 
 
 'We, in 6ur suspense. 
 
 Send Eurypylus to consult 
 
 The 6racle of Phoebus ; 
 
 And he back from the shrine 
 
 Brings these words of sorrow: — 
 
 'With a slaughtered virgin's bl6od 
 
 The winds ye appeased, 
 
 Wlien first to Ilium's c6asts 
 
 Ye came, Danai; 
 
 With the bloody sacrifice 
 
 O'f a life Argolic 
 
 Ye must purchase your return.' 
 
 "As soon as that word 
 Reached the ear of the public, 
 All minds were ast6unded, 
 And thr6ugh the bones' pith 
 Thrilled an icy-cold tremor : — 
 'For wh6m prepares Fate this? 
 Apollo calls wh6m?' 
 
 'Here Ithacus drags 
 Forth into the midst, 
 
II. 51 
 
 Witli a great tumult, 
 
 Soothsaying- Calchas, 
 
 And to expound 
 
 That blessed will of the G«>ds 
 
 Importunate presses. 
 
 And many already 
 
 Foretold me the future, 
 
 Or, onlooking- miite, 
 
 The villainy read 
 
 Of the cruel intriguer. 
 
 'Twice five days he 's silent, 
 And close housed refuses 
 Any one to denounce, 
 Or hand over to death; 
 Till, by the loud clamors 
 Of Ithacus hardly 
 At long and last forced, 
 He speaks out, as arranged, 
 And dooms me to the altar. 
 All assent and on one 
 Poor wretch's head turn, 
 And discharge the destruction 
 Each had feared for himself. 
 
 'The horrid day 's come; 
 
 For the rite they 're preparing; 
 
 The meal 's mixed with salt, 
 
 The tiar 's round my temples - 
 
 Away from the slaughter 
 
 I broke, 1 deny not. 
 
 And my bonds left behind me. 
 
52 II. 
 
 In an oozy morass 
 Among the sedge lurking-, 
 All the nig^ht I lay hid, 
 And awaited their sailing-, 
 If haply they would sail. 
 
 *And now 1 've no more hope 
 
 To see my old country, 
 
 Or the sire I Ve so yearned for, 
 
 And the sweet children, 
 
 Who perhaps must account 
 
 With their lives for my crime. 
 
 And wretchedly expiate 
 
 This my escape. 
 
 Biit, by the Gods above, 
 
 And by those Deities, 
 
 To whom truth is dear. 
 
 And who know I speak triith; 
 
 And by whatever 
 
 Faith uncorrupted 
 
 Is still anywhere 
 
 Among men to be found, 
 
 I pray you, take pity 
 
 On hardships so great; 
 
 On a mind, not deserving 
 
 Such hardships, take pity.' 
 
 "These tears win his life, 
 
 And more — even our pity — 
 
 And first Priam's self 
 
 His manacles tight 
 
 Commands to take ofT, 
 
 And speaks to him kindly : — 
 
II. 53 
 
 'Whoever thou art, 
 
 Henceforward forg-et 
 
 Tlie Grail thou hast lost, 
 
 (For ours thou shalt be) 
 
 And triie answer give 
 
 To the questions I ask thee; 
 
 This hiig-e monstrous horse 
 
 For what purpose set lip? 
 
 By whom? with what meaning? 
 
 Is it emblem religious? 
 
 Is it engine of war?' 
 
 'O' 
 
 "He said; and the wretch, 
 
 In Pelasgian arts versed, 
 
 Toward the heavenly lights upwards 
 
 His untied hands lifting, 
 
 *Bear witness', exclaimed, 
 
 'Ye fires everlasting, 
 
 Whose Godhead 's inviolate; 
 
 Bear witness, ye altars 
 
 And horrible knives, 
 
 From which I have fled: 
 
 And ye, sacred fillets 
 
 My victim brows wore; 
 
 I sin not in breaking 
 
 The Graian sanctions; 
 
 I sin not in hating 
 
 The Graii* themselves, 
 
 And to the light bringing 
 
 Their every secret, 
 
 Whate'er it may be; 
 
 Nor am I bound longer 
 
 By laws of my country. 
 
54 n. 
 
 i Only thou to thy promise 
 
 I Stand stedfast Troy, 
 
 I And thy saviour save, 
 
 I If I tell thee the truth, 
 
 ' If 1 recompense amply. 
 
 'Ever in the aid of Pallas 
 
 Placed the Danai their whole hope 
 
 And confidence of happy issue 
 
 To the war they had undertaken; 
 
 But from what time Tydides impious, 
 
 And Ulysses, crime inventor, 
 
 From the sacred fane attempted 
 
 To tear away the weird Palladium, 
 
 And slaying the high citadel's guards, 
 
 Seized on the sacred effigy. 
 
 Nor with bloody hands not dared 
 
 To touch the Goddess' virgin tiar: 
 
 Ebbed from that time the hope of the Danai", 
 
 Broken their strength, estranged the Goddess' favor 
 
 'Nor was it by ambiguous portents 
 That Tritonia shewed her anger; 
 Scarce placed in the camp the image, 
 When its eyes stared, and sparkled fire; 
 A salt sweat broke out on its limbs. 
 And thrice, wonderful to tell I 
 Up from the ground it sprang entire. 
 Bearing its shield and quivering spear. 
 
 'Immediately their flight must brave 
 The hazards of the sea', chaunts Calchas; 
 'For Pergamus is not to be 
 By Argoiic arms demolished, 
 
55 
 
 Until at Ait;os having taken 
 
 New auspices, they come back hither, 
 
 Bringing with them that same heavenly 
 
 Grace and blessing that has now 
 
 To Greece sailed with them in their curved ships.' 
 
 'And now that they have to their native 
 Mycenae sailed home, they 're preparing 
 New war, and wooing Gods to escort them; 
 Which done, they '11 cross the sea again, 
 And be here when least expected. 
 So adroit a hand is Calchas 
 At the analysis of omens. 
 
 •To reconcile the Deity, 
 
 And expiate the mortal crime 
 
 Of the theft of the Palladium, 
 
 Calchas counselled them to set up 
 
 This statue here, but at the same time 
 
 To so great a height to erect it. 
 
 And of such strong and massy timber. 
 
 That through the gates it could not pass. 
 
 Nor be drawn up into the city. 
 
 There to succeed the former imag-e, 
 
 As the tutelar of the people. 
 
 •For, if your hands did violence 
 
 To the gift offered to Minerva, 
 
 Great riiin — on the prophet's self 
 
 Discharge the prophecy, ye Gods ! — 
 
 Would whelm Priam's empire and the Phrygians: 
 
 Biit, if your own hands drew it lip. 
 
 And placed it high within your city. 
 
56 II. 
 
 Then would Asia in her turn 
 
 Beome ag-g-ressor, and against 
 
 The Pelopean ramparts come 
 
 With mighty war: such were the fates 
 
 That waited our posterity.' 
 
 "By these insidious arts of perjured Sinon 
 The affair is credited, and those whom neither 
 Tydides, nor Achilles of Larissa, 
 I Nor a ten years' sieg-e, nor a thousand ships 
 I Could subjugate, become the easy prey 
 I Of an impostor's well dissembled tears. 
 
 "And here a g-reater, far more awful, sight 
 Fills with alarm our miserable breasts; 
 Laocoon, by lot drawn priest of Neptune, 
 J At the solemn altars a huge biill was slaying-, 
 1 When, behold yonder! 'cross the tranquil deep, 
 I From Tenedos, I shudder to relate it, 
 i Come two immense-orbed snakes stemming- the sea, 
 ] And making-, side by side, direct for land; 
 • Whose breasts, among- the waves erected, rear 
 Their bloody wattles hig-h above the waters; 
 While, in voluminous coils, their backs immense 
 And hind parts sweep the audibly foaming- brine. 
 
 "They 're on the land: their bloodshot eyes glare fire; 
 
 With swiftly to and fro vibrated tongues 
 
 They hck their hissing- jaws: aghast we see. 
 
 And flee in all directions : to Laocoon 
 
 They take their march direct; and first the bodies 
 
 Of his two little sons both serpents clasp. 
 
 And l)r6wse upon, and bite, their wretched limbs; 
 
II. 57 
 
 Himself, then, coming to their aid with weapons, 
 
 Lay hold on, and with hiige coils bind ; and now 
 
 Twice clasping him about the middle; twice 
 
 Circling- his neck round with their scaly trunks. 
 
 Above his head their heads and tall necks rear. 
 
 Bespewed with black and venomous gore his tiar, 
 
 As with his hands their knots he strives to sunder, 
 
 And the same moment to the stars lifts high 
 
 His shouts horrific; bellowing like a biill, 
 
 That from his neck the unsteady axe has tossed, ,/ 
 
 And from the altar with a wound escapes. ''■""*-^-..^./ / 
 
 Biit the two dragons away gliding flee / ^ -:- 
 
 To dread Tritonia's lofty citadel, - ' 
 
 And in the fane and at the feet of the Goddess, 
 
 Behind her shield's orb, lie in covert close. 
 
 "'Twas then, indeed, that every breast 
 Quaked with a new and thrilling fear; 
 And righteously deserved, they said, 
 The penalty Laocoon paid, 
 Who, with pointed spear accursed 
 Hiirled against the side of the beast, 
 Had harmed the sacred wood. 
 
 "To the Goddess' temple, 
 
 All shout out together. 
 
 The image miist be brought. 
 
 And the gracious clemency 
 
 Of the blessed Deity, 
 
 Humbly with prayer be sought. 
 
 "We breach the city walls, 
 We throw the fortress open, 
 
■■V---T 
 
 I 1 
 
 58 n. 
 
 \ All gird their loins, and fall to work; 
 
 \ Beneath its feet, some, rollers set, 
 ( I Some, hempen cords throw round its neck. 
 TeemiR^ wijth its freight of arms 
 The fatal eng;ine scales the walls; 
 Boys and girls sing hymns around, 
 And touch the rope, delighted. 
 It enters, and glides menacing- 
 dn through the city's midst. 
 
 "0 Ilium! my country! 
 
 Habitation of the Gods! 
 
 City of Dardanidae, 
 : Valiant and renowned! 
 1 in the very entrance 
 |F6ur times it stopped short; 
 
 fClanging within the womb 
 
 lArms four times were heard. 
 
 pnward, not the less, 
 
 pnheeding', furious, blind we press, 
 
 |ind in the consecrated high-place 
 
 Set lip the unlucky monster. 
 
 "Then too Cassandra's mouth 
 
 To the coming fate gave utterance, 
 
 That mouth which, by the (lods' will. 
 
 The Teiicri believed never. 
 
 We, wretches wiio were n()t 
 
 Another day to see, 
 
 \ Deck with festal foliage 
 
 The shrines throughout the city. 
 
59 
 
 "Round rolls in the meantime the heaven, 
 
 And Nig-ht from Oceaniis rushing, 
 
 Enwraps in her great shade the earth, 
 
 And the sky, and the wiles Myrmidonian. 
 
 And now that, all over the city, 
 
 The Teiicri outstretched Ue and silent, 
 
 And deep sleep their tired limbs embraces; 
 
 From Tenedos, fiilly equipped. 
 
 To the shores that it knows so well, 
 
 In the stilly moon's friendly silence 
 
 The armament Argive sails over. 
 
 When the King-'s ship has hiing- out its light; 
 
 And Sinon, safe in the protection 
 
 Of the Gods' partial destinies, looses 
 
 All stealthy the womb's piny shutter, 
 
 And lets out the Danai". 
 
 "To the air, the horse opened, refunds them; 
 And forth from the hollow wood joyful 
 The chieftains Thessander and Sthenelus come, 
 Along the let- down rope gliding, 
 And direful Ulysses, and Thoas, 
 And Acamas, and Menekius, 
 ■ AndMachaon the foremost of all, 
 :Neopt6lomus, grandson of Pe^leus, 
 And himself, the snare's artist, Epeus. H-i^ 
 
 "They make their attack on the city, 
 As it lies in sleep biiried and wine, 
 Cut down the night-watch, and admitting-, 
 At the wide-opened gates, all their comrades, 
 Unite into one their leagued bands. 
 
60 n. 
 
 "It Wcis the early hour of sleep, 
 j When that most grateful g-ift of heaven 
 1 Begins to steal on care -sick mortals: 
 Lo! in a dream, before mine eyes, 
 Hector, methought, all woe -begone 
 And weeping- torrents, stood beside me: 
 Fresh from the chariot wheel, - 
 As erewhile I had seen him, 
 And all beg-rimed with dust and blood; 
 '^^-.:,| in his swollen feet the thong-s. 
 
 "Alas me, what a Hector I 
 j How great a change was there, 
 ' From the Hector that returned 
 
 Clad in Achilles' spoils I 
 \ From the Hector that had hurled , 
 
 I Phrygia's lighted brands '^* 
 
 I At the ships of the Danai'! 
 
 "Squalid was his beard. 
 Clotted his locks with blood, 
 His body gashed all over 
 With the wounds he had received 
 Before his native walls. 
 1 weeping too, methought. 
 Addressed of my own motion 
 These sad words to the hero : — 
 
 '0 light of Dardania! 
 Teucrian hope surest! 
 What great delay kept thee? 
 Or whence comest at last? 
 Hector, expected so long! 
 
61 
 
 After how many deaths 
 
 Of thy friends look we on thee! 
 
 After how many troubles, 
 
 And harassmg toils, 
 
 Both of people and city! 
 
 Thy visag-e serene 
 
 Why fouled thus unseemly? 
 
 And w^hat wounds are these?' 
 
 "He answered not my idle questions, 
 
 He w^rought me no delay, 
 
 Biit from his bosom's innermost 
 
 Groaned heavily and said: — 
 
 'Ah! flee, Goddess -born, 
 
 And save thee from these flames: 
 
 The foe is master of the walls, 
 
 And in riiin from its summit 
 
 Down tumbles lofty Troy. 
 
 For Priam and thy country 
 
 Enough hast thou performed; 
 
 Had Pergamus' defence 
 
 In any right hand lain, 
 
 This right hand the defence 
 
 Of Pergamus had been. 
 
 Troy to thy care commends 
 
 The objects she holds sacred; 
 
 Take these Penates with thee, 
 
 To be thy fates' companions, 
 
 With these Penates go. 
 
 And found the mighty city 
 
 'Tis thy destiny to found 
 
 After many a long wandering 
 
 All the wide sea over.' 
 
02 
 
 "He said, and in his hands 
 Brought out, from the interior. 
 Potent Vesta, and the Fillets, 
 And the everlasting Fire. 
 
 'D 
 
 I "Meantime within the city far 
 I 'Tis woe all and confusion, 
 I And thoug-h my sire Anchises' house 
 I Stood among- sheltering trees retired, 
 Yet louder still, and louder grew, 
 And nearer still and nearer drew 
 War's horror, and the din of arms. 
 
 " Starting, and roused from sleep 
 
 1 climb the roof's steep ridge, 
 
 And with pricked ears stand listening. 
 
 "Twas as when through standing corn 
 
 By raging southwinds flames are borne, 
 
 Or mountain torrent's rapid flood 
 
 Prostrates fields and smiling crops, 
 
 Prostrates the labors of the ox. 
 
 And headlong drags with it the wood. 
 
 From the high top of a rock, 
 
 The shepherd, ignorant what has happened, 
 
 Hears with astonishment the sound. 
 
 Then, then indeed, the triith was clear, 
 
 The ambush of the Danai" open. 
 
 Now has Deiphobiis' large house, 
 
 By Vulcan overpowered, fallen in; 
 
 And now Ucalegon 's on fire, 
 
 His next adjoining neighbour; 
 
 And far and wide 
 
 Sigeum's friths 
 
\ 
 
 II. 03 
 
 Reflect the glare; 
 
 And clanging- trumpets, 
 
 Shouting- men, 
 
 Their larum raise tog-ether. 
 
 "Distracted I take arms, though small 
 The good from arms to be expected; 
 Biit my soul burns to gather round me 
 Some gallant handful of companions, 
 And throw myself into the castle; 
 Madness and wrath impel me headlong-, 
 And, what a charming thing- it is 
 To die in arms, comes 'cross my mind. 
 
 "But see, escaped out of the midst 
 
 Of the Achaian weapons, Pantheus 
 
 Toward our house comes running- wildly; 
 
 Pantheus Othryades, the priest 
 
 Of the Phoebus of the castle, 
 
 In his own hand the conquered Gods 
 
 And sacrcirium carrying with him. 
 
 And dragging on his little grandson: — 
 
 'Quite lost? Or not yet quite lost, Pantheus? 
 
 The castle — can we hold out in it?' 
 
 "Scarce had 1 the words uttered. 
 When with a g-roan he answered: — 
 *Th' inevitable day, 
 
 1 Dardania's last is come: 
 I We Trojans are no more; 
 \ilium 's dead and gone, 
 And the high Teiicrian glory. 
 Wild and savage Jove 
 To Argos has transferred 
 
64 
 
 AH that once was ours; 
 
 The Danai' have fired. 
 
 And are masters of the city; 
 
 Within whose very core 
 
 The towering horse teems warriors, 
 
 And victorious Sinon 
 
 Flings his brands, insulting-. 
 
 More numerous thousands never 
 
 Came from great Mycenae 
 
 Than are yonder at the gates, 
 
 That stand with both wings open: 
 
 Here their bristling files 
 
 Beset the narrow streets, 
 
 With naked swords in hand, 
 
 Glistening, prepared for slaughter. 
 
 Scarce those upon the edge 
 
 And forefront of the danger, 
 
 The nightwatch of the gates, 
 
 Attempt the darkling fight, 
 
 And ofTer blind resistance.' 
 
 " Into the midst of arms and flames 
 By these words of Othryades 
 And the Gods' will I'm borne; 
 Whither severe Erinnys calls, 
 Wliither the din calls, and the shout 
 High to the ether volleyed. 
 By favor of the moonlight, 
 Ripheus, and valiant Epytus, 
 And Hypanis, and Dymas 
 Gather about and join me. 
 And Mygdon's youthful son 
 Coroebus, whom the violence 
 
Of his passion for Cassandra, 
 Just at that time, it chanced, 
 Had brought to Troy, to assist, 
 With the arms of a son - in- hi w, 
 Priam and the Phrygians; 
 Unhappy! that not listened 
 To his extasied bride's warning-. 
 
 "Whom when 1 saw so bold, 
 t And banded for the battle, 
 \ To sharpen still their courage, 
 \With these words I endeavour: — 
 
 'Yoiiths of bravest heart, 
 
 Bravest I fear, in vain; 
 
 If resolute your desire 
 
 My desperate lead to follow, 
 
 Fortune's attitude ye see: 
 
 Forsaking shrine and altar 
 
 The Gods have all departed, 
 
 That once sustained this empire: 
 
 'Tis to a burning city 
 
 That ye bring your succour. 
 
 into the fight's thickest 
 
 Let us riish and die; 
 ,To cast away all hope ^ ^ 
 
 lis the sole^ -hope ef the conquered.' 
 
 "To the young men's courage "7 
 
 Fiiry thus is added. 
 
 And like wolves rapacious, 
 
 Ravening in a dark fog, 
 
 When the villainous pjnch 
 
 Ot hunger has enraged them, 
 
 A^d their whelps expect 
 
 ' 5 
 
 .•A -f 
 
 65 
 
 A 
 
66 
 
 With parched jaws their rctiirn, 
 
 On through the midst of foes, 
 
 On through the midst of weapons, 
 
 Towards no doubtful death, 
 
 We march along the high street, 
 
 Under the hollow shade 
 
 Of dark Night flitting round us. 
 
 "Of that night's havoc slaughter 
 
 Who has words descriptive? 
 
 For the sorrows of that night 
 
 Who has tears sufficient? 
 
 The ancient city falls 
 
 After many a year's dominion ; 
 
 Through the streets and houses, 
 
 And Gods' religious temples 
 
 Dead bodies every where 
 
 Lie strown about in numbers. 
 
 Nor pay the Teiicri sole 
 
 The bloody penalty: 
 
 Even to the conquered breast 
 
 Courage at times returns, 
 
 And in their victory's midst, 
 
 The Danai are laid low. 
 
 Cruel woe is everywhere; 
 
 Everywhere is fear 
 
 And many a shape of death. 
 
 "Androgeos, first of all. 
 In our way presents himself 
 With a great troop of Danai'; 
 And, ignorantly believing- 
 ■Thiit we 're of his party, 
 
 \ 
 
67 
 
 Thiis, of his own accord, 
 Willi friendly words accosts us: — 
 'Make luiste, my gallant fellows, 
 What laziness is this, 
 That so late has kept you? 
 While your comrades Pergamus 
 With fire and sword are sacking-, 
 Ye, from the lofty ships. 
 Are biit just now arriving.' 
 "He said, and on the instant — 
 For our reply was not 
 SufTieiently straight forward — 
 Perceived that he had fallen 
 Into the midst of the foe, 
 And astounded checked his speecli, 
 And retreated on his step. 
 
 "As one, that on a snake 
 In a thorny brake 
 Unexpectedly has trod, 
 And backwards in dismay 
 Starts, and flees away 
 Before its rising- ire 
 And bliie and swelling gorge; 
 Just so, at sight of us, 
 Androgeos trembling fled: 
 \Ve riish on, and around them 
 Pouring in dense armed numbers, 
 Rout them in all directions, 
 Ignorant of the ground 
 
 \ And stricken with a panic. 
 
 I On our hrst emprise 
 
 I 
 
 Fortune breathes auspicious. 
 
 5 = 
 
68 
 
 "And here, flushed with success, 
 
 Coroebus cries exulting-: — 
 
 'Where propitious Fortune 
 
 Now first points out the way, 
 
 That promises to save us, 
 
 comrades, let us follow; 
 
 Let us interchange 
 
 Bucklers and appointments 
 
 With these Danai" here, 
 
 And as Danai' equip us. 
 
 So the battle 's won, 
 
 Who ever questions whether 
 
 Twas by artifice or valor. 
 
 Our enemies themselves 
 
 Shall furnish us with arms.' 
 
 I "Androg-eos' bushy helm 
 i And handsome emblemed shield, 
 I So saying-, he put on; ""^ 
 I And the Argive sword 
 Adapted to his side; 
 Ripheus does the same, 
 And the same does Dymas, 
 And all the joyous youths; 
 Each and every one 
 In the fresh spoils arms him. 
 
 "Then, with the Danai" mingled. 
 We march without the escort 
 Of our own accustomed Gods; 
 And in many a close -hand fight, 
 In the darkness of the night, 
 Full many of the Danai" 
 
Despatch to Orcus down; 
 And some of them fly scattered 
 To the ships and faithful shore, 
 And some, in a vile panic, 
 The hiige horse climb again, 
 And stow themselves away 
 Into its well known paunch. 
 
 "Alas! there's no success, 
 If heaven 's not so inclined: 
 See where, with hair dishevelled, 
 Cassandra, Priam's daughter, 
 Out of the fane is dragged 
 And from Minerva's shrine; 
 Straining, but all in vain. 
 Toward heaven her ardent eyes: 
 Her eyes, for fetters hold 
 Her delicate hands confined. 
 
 ''That sight Coroebus brooks not, 
 And in a frenzy flings him 
 Into the midst, to die. 
 We follow in a body, 
 And in among them riish 
 With thick and heavy battle. 
 
 "Here first we 're overwhelmed 
 From the high top of the temple 
 By our own friends' missiles, 
 And a most piteous slaughter 
 Arises from the false show, 
 Made by our Graian arms 
 And biishy helmet -crests. 
 
70 II. 
 
 Then, with groans and indignation 
 
 At the rescue of the virgin, 
 
 From every side collecting-, 
 
 The Danai fall upon us; 
 
 Ajax most redoubted, 
 
 And the twain Atridae, 
 
 And the whole band Dolopian. 
 
 "So sometimes a tornado bursts, 
 
 And winds with opposite winds contend, 
 
 Zephyrus and Notus ag-ainst Eiirus, 
 
 In his eastern steeds rejoicing: 
 
 The woods screech, and, in his illhiimour, 
 
 Nereus with his trident foamy 
 
 Stirs the sea up from the bottom. 
 
 "Those too appear whom in the dark night 
 
 By our stratag-em we had routed. 
 
 And hunted over the whole city; 
 
 The first are they to recognise 
 
 Our arms and weapons, and to mark 
 
 The discrepance between our voices, 
 
 And the exterior we assumed. 
 
 That instant, numbers overwhelm us, 
 
 And first Coroebus prostrate lies 
 
 Stretched by the right hand of Pcneleus 
 
 Beside the armipotent Goddess' altar. 
 
 Ripheus too falls, by far the jiistest 
 
 And most righteous of the Teiicri; 
 
 Biit the Gods otherwise decreed. 
 
 And Hy'panis and Dymas perish. 
 
 Pierced by the weapons of their comrades; 
 
71 
 
 Nor sliielded thee, as down tliou stinkest, 
 Thy great and manifold piety, Pantheus, 
 Or the Ticira of Apollo. 
 
 "Bear witness, ye iHan ashes, 
 
 Ye pyre -flames of my friends, bear witness, 
 
 I faced in that your hour of riiin 
 
 Every weapon of the Danai', 
 
 Braved unshrinking- all their tactics; 
 
 And had my fall been in the Fates, 
 
 By my hands' deeds well earned my fall. 
 
 "Our party 's violently severed: 
 Pelias and Iphitus go with me; 
 Heavy with years the latter, Pelias 
 Slow with a wound dealt by Ulysses: 
 To Priam's palace by the clamor 
 Immediately we 're called away. 
 
 "'Twas here indeed the battle raged, 
 
 As if elsewhere were none, 
 
 No deaths beside in the whole city ; 
 
 So furiously was ramping here 
 
 Indomitable Mars, 
 
 So strenuously the Danai 
 
 Up the steps were striving. 
 
 And housed beneath the sloping cope 
 
 Of shields compacted firm together. 
 
 The very door were sieging: 
 
 And up scaling ladders rushing, 
 
 With bucklered left hand warded missiles, 
 
 With right hand seized the parapets. 
 
72 II. 
 
 <' Against them the Dardaiiidae, 
 
 For weapons of defence in this 
 
 Their hour of utmost need and death, 
 
 Uptear rooftops and tiirreting-s, 
 
 And gilt beams down upon them roll, 
 
 Their foresires' lofty ornaments. 
 
 Others below in a dense band 
 
 Within the door, drawn blades in hand, 
 
 Intent to guard the entrance, stand. 
 
 "To bring assistance to the conquered, 
 
 And relieve the royal palace, 
 
 My spirit rises fresh within me. 
 
 Behind there was a secret entrance 
 
 And passage of communication, 
 I Neglected and unused of late, 
 i Between the parts of Priam's palace. 
 I Through this door, while the state stood firm, 
 I Hapless Andromache full 6ft 
 1 Was wont to pass without attendants, 
 i Her father -and mother-in-law to visit 
 
 And to his grandsire, in her hand. 
 
 The boy Astyanax conducted. 
 
 *'l enter, and the whole way pass 
 
 Up to the high roof summit, 
 
 From whence the wretched Trojans down 
 
 Their missiles vain were hurling. 
 
 Out of the roof, high toward the stars 
 
 A tower rose perpendicular 
 
 Over the front wall of the building; 
 
 From whence there was a prospect wide 
 
 Of all Troy, and th' Achaian camp, 
 
II. 73 
 
 And of the navy of the Dana'i: 
 Attacking- it with crowbars round, 
 Where insecurely it was joined 
 To the roof- terrace, we upheave 
 And push it from its high foundation. 
 With wide and sudden crash it falls 
 Upon the squadrons of the Danai; 
 But others to their place succeed, 
 Nor is there, in the mean time, pause 
 Of stones or any form of weapons. 
 
 ''Before the very threshold 
 
 Of the vestibule itself, 
 
 Jn his weapons" brazen lig-ht 
 
 Exulting Pyrrhus glistens; 
 
 As the Cobra, that lay swollen 
 
 Under the sheltering- ground 
 
 All the cold winter through, 
 
 Now having cast his slough 
 
 And cropped his poisonous herbs, 
 
 To the light comes forward. 
 
 Renewed in youth and beauty, 
 
 And on his slimy spires 
 
 Coiling himself erect, 
 
 His breast rears to the siin. 
 
 And back and forward shoots 
 
 His twinkling tongue tri- furrowed. 
 
 "Along with him huge Periphas, 
 
 And he that drove Achilles' steeds. 
 
 Esquire -at -arms Automedon, 
 
 Along with him th' whole Scyrian youth 
 
 Up to the house come, and flings high 
 
74 II. 
 
 The firebrands to the battlements. 
 Pyrrhus himself among- the foremost, 
 Seizing a double-headed pole-axe, 
 Bursts the door's hard entrance open. 
 And from the pivots of the hinges 
 Forces the brazen -plated doorvalves. 
 And now he has hewed the panel out, 
 And a hiige wide- yawning loophole 
 In the hard wood excavated. 
 The interior of the house stands open; 
 Exposed to view are the long halls, 
 Exposed to view the privacies 
 Of Priam and the ancient Kings, 
 And they behold men standing armed, 
 Immediately inside the threshold. 
 But far within 'tis all confusion, 
 And groans, and miserable hubbub: 
 The whole cavdedium through and through 
 { Wails with the wailings of the women ; 
 ) The clamor smites the golden stars; 
 I Affrighted matrons everywhere 
 j "Wildly roam through the vast building, 
 I And hiig and print the doors with kisses. 
 
 "In the might of his sire 
 Pyrrhus presses right on: 
 No barriers may stay him, 
 I No guards may delay him; 
 { Before the ram's shock 
 \ The battered door totters, 
 I Displaced from their pivots 
 Lie prostrate the valves; 
 Main strength bursts a passage, 
 
II. 75 
 
 The entrance is forced, 
 
 In rush the Danai", 
 
 Slaughter the foremost, 
 
 And the whole place with soldiery 
 
 Fill far and wide. 
 
 "Less furiously the foaming river, 
 Whose g'ushing flood has overcome 
 And biirst the dam's opposing- mass, 
 And left its channel, on the fields 
 Rushes aheap, and drags along 
 Cattle and stall o'er all the plain. 
 
 "Myself have seen upon the threshold 
 Neoptolemus and the twain Atridae, 
 Furious, and reeking slaughter: 
 Hoculja and her hundred daughters 
 Myself have seen, and, midst the altars, 
 Priam defiling with his blood 
 The fires himself had consecrated. 
 Low lie those fifty spousal chambers, 
 So rich hope of a teeming offspring. 
 Low lie those fifty doors superb 
 With conquered spoils and gold barbaric; 
 The Danai" or the fire have all. 
 
 "Thou lisk'st perhaps the fate of Priam: 
 When he beheld his city captured, 
 The entrance of his palace forced. 
 And in his privacies' midst the foe. 
 The old man his age- palsied shoulders 
 In long disused arms vainly cases, 
 Girds on the useless sword, and rushes 
 Into the thickest of the foe, to die. 
 
7t) 
 
 "In the palace court interior, 
 Beneath the bare ethereal axis 
 Stood a great altar, and beside it 
 A laurel of most ancient g-rowth 
 Over it bending, and embracing 
 In its shadow the Penates. 
 Here in vain gathered round the altars, 
 Hecuba and her daughters sat, 
 Clasping the images of the Gods, 
 And close together cowered like doves 
 By the black pelting tempest flurried. 
 
 "But when in youthful arms equipped 
 
 Priam himself she saw: — 
 
 'Ah! what so direful impulse 
 
 Most wretched spouse', she cried, 
 
 'Hath girt thee with these weapons. 
 
 Or whither nishest? 
 
 'Tis not of siich assistance, 
 
 Of safeguards such as those. 
 
 The present time has need, 
 
 No, not, if standing here 
 
 Were my own Hector's self. 
 
 Submit, 1 do beseech thee, 
 
 And hither deign to come; 
 
 This altar shields us all. 
 
 Or with us thou shalt die.' 
 
 "The full of years, this said. 
 
 Unto herself she took, 
 
 And placed in the sacred seat. 
 
 "But see where yonder, through the long 
 And empty halls and porticoes 
 
II. 77 
 
 Fleeini^ disabled, from the midst 
 Of the carnage made by Pyrrhus, 
 From the midst of foes and weapons, 
 Comes PoHtes, son of Priam; 
 And, behind him, glowing- hot 
 Pyrrhus with rabid stroke uplifted — 
 Now, now, nay now the cliitch is on him, 
 Nearer the spear and nearer to him. 
 Till, at the moment when he enters 
 His parents' presence, down he falls. 
 And in a giish of blood expires. 
 
 "Nor Priam then, what though he stood 
 
 Already in the toils of death. 
 
 Abstained from ire or spared his words : — • 
 
 'But may the Gods in heaven,' he cried, 
 
 *lf any tender Gods there be. 
 
 Who mind atrocities like this, 
 
 With worthy thank and guerdon diie 
 
 For this audacious outrage pay thee, 
 
 Thee, who hast made the sire eyewitness 
 
 Of the son's death, and with his child's blood 
 
 Defiled the presence of a father. 
 
 Far other foe was that Achilles, 
 
 From whom thou liest that thou art sprung'. 
 
 Who bliishingly a suppliant's right, 
 
 A suppliant's sanctity revering-, 
 
 Hector's pale corse restored to Priam 
 
 For sepulture, and sent me home 
 
 In safety to my realms again.' 
 
 "Thiis having said the old man filings 
 His powerless ineffectual weapon, 
 
78 II. 
 
 Which made the shield's brass -plating- ring-, 
 And, foiled at once, hung where it struck." 
 
 'Then to my sire Pelides post,' 
 Pyrrhus repHed, 'and bear these tidings: 
 The naughty and degenerate deeds 
 Of Neoptoiemus be siire 
 That thou remember well to tell him; 
 -; Now die.' "The old man, with these words, 
 ; He dragged to the very altar, trembling-, 
 ■ And in the plash of his son's blood 
 Slipping; twined in his hair the left hand, 
 And with his right the flashing sword 
 Uplifted high, and in his side 
 Up to the hilt -guard buried. 
 
 "Siich was the close of Priam's fates; 
 
 Such the allotted bourne of him, 
 
 Who, of so many Asiatic 
 
 Nations and lands proud riiler once. 
 
 Saw Troy in flames, and Perg^amus fj'dlen: 
 
 Upon the shore he lies. 
 
 The head lopped from the shoulders, 
 
 A hiig-e and nameless carcase. 
 
 "Then first in all its power I felt 
 The horror that surrounded me; 
 I stood aghast: my dear sire's image 
 Rose to my mind, when I beheld 
 • The equal -aged King- his life forth 
 \ Exhaling at a criiel wound; 
 \ Forlorn Creiisa too rose to my mind, 
 \ And my sacked house, and little liilus' case. 
 
 \ 
 
79 
 
 "I cast a look round of inquiry, 
 
 What force there may be yet about me. 
 
 All tired out had deserted me, 
 
 And either leaped down to the ground. 
 
 Or thrown into the flames 
 
 Their worn and fevered frames. 
 
 "And now 1 was alone remaining. 
 
 When in Vesta's secret seat 
 
 Tyndarus' daughter I behold, 
 
 A lurking silent visitant; 
 
 The brightness of the conflagration 
 
 Lights me, as about 1 wander. 
 
 And everywhej'e cast round my eyes: 
 
 She, in dread anticipation 
 
 Of retribution from the Teiicri 
 
 For Pergamus o'erthrow and fail, 
 
 In dread no less of chastisement 
 
 At the hands of th' angry Danai", 
 
 And of her deserted consort: 
 
 Troy's and her country's common Fiiry, 
 
 Object of the general hatred; 
 
 dut of the way had piit herself, 
 
 And there was sitting by the altar. 
 
 "With sudden flaming ire 
 
 My soul is all on fire, 
 
 To avenge my country's fall, 
 
 And the criminal chastise:" 
 
 •And shall this wretch unscathed, 
 
 Sparta behold again, 
 
 And fatherland Mycenae? 
 
 In queenly triumph home 
 
80 II. 
 
 To her spouse and children, 
 And to her sires return, 
 By crowds of ilian dames 
 And Trojan serfs attended? 
 And Priam have been slain? 
 And Troy in ashes laid? 
 And the Dardanian shore 
 So 6ft have sweated blood? 
 No, never! for although 
 He wins no g-lorious name 
 Who punishes a woman, 
 Nor has such victory praise, 
 Still I shah be extolled 
 For extirpating a nuisance, 
 And inflicting' on the g-iiilty 
 The chastisement deserved. 
 Twill be some comfort too, 
 To have given myself enoug-h 
 Of the fiery flame of vengeance, 
 And g-liitted my friends' ashes.' 
 
 "With such ejacukation, 
 1 was rushing in a fiiry, 
 When, never by mine eyes 
 So bright before beheld, 
 My most benignant mother 
 Stood visible before me, 
 Refulgent in pure light, 
 Midst the darkness of the night, 
 A goddess undisguised. 
 In such majesty and greatness 
 As to heaven's inhabitants 
 She is wonted to appear; 
 
If. 81 
 
 And cauulit me witli lier right liand, 
 And h('ld mo back and added 
 From her rosy lips thes<' words: — ■ 
 
 AVhat fiiry 's this, my son? 
 Wliat poignant pain excites 
 This migovernabk^ ire? 
 Or whither away fled 
 Thy wonted care of lis? 
 Wilt thou not first a look 
 Bestow where thou hast left 
 Thine ago -worn sire Anchises? 
 Whether thy spouse Creiisa, 
 Whether thy boy Ascanius 
 Survives yet? round all whom 
 The Graian files are roaming-, 
 And whom the foeman's sword, 
 Biit for my care's resistance. 
 Had swept away ere this. 
 Or the devouring- flame. 
 
 ''Tis not the hateful fair face 
 
 Of Laconian Tyndaris, 
 
 Not criminated Paris, 
 
 But the stern will of the Gods, 
 
 The Gods' stern w^ill o'erthrow^s, 
 
 And prostrates, from its summit, 
 
 The power and mi^ht of Troy. 
 
 'See here — for from thine eyes 
 All the cloud I Ml take away 
 Which, drawn across them, diills 
 And damps thy mortal vision, 
 
And spreads thick darkness round: 
 
 And thou, fear not to do 
 
 Every biddmg- of thy parent, 
 
 And to her instructions 
 
 Refuse not thine obedience — 
 
 Here, where thou behoidest 
 
 These hiige disrupted masses, 
 
 These stones away from stones forced, 
 
 Thes e- tin duTatinf " c 6 lumn s 
 
 Of mingled smoke and dust, 
 
 Neptune is undermining-, 
 
 And from their deep foundations 
 
 With his great trident heaving 
 
 The walls and the whole city. 
 
 Here, in lier fiercest fierceness, 
 
 Jiino, foremost leading. 
 
 Occupies the Scaean, 
 
 And, sword at side, calls furious 
 
 Her allies ironi the ships; 
 
 Already of the high Castle, 
 
 Tritonian Pallas, (see 
 
 Behind thee there,) sits mistress, 
 
 In a beamy cloud's 
 
 Effulgent halo bright, 
 
 Bright with her fell Gorgon. 
 
 The sire of heaven himself 
 
 Furnishes the Dana'i 
 
 With successful strength and courage; 
 
 Stirs lip the Gods himself 
 
 Against the Dardan arms. 
 
 Away, my son, flee swift; 
 
 Let thy labors have an end: 
 
 Everywhere I'm with thee, 
 
II. 8a 
 
 Until 1 set thee safe 
 ()n tliy paternal tliresliold/ 
 Tliiis liaving- said, slie pliinged 
 Into the night's thick sh/ides: 
 And before me plainly 
 I s.'hv the direful figures 
 Of the great divinities, 
 Inimical to Troy. 
 
 *'A11 Ilium then appeared to me 
 
 To sink in flames, and from its base 
 
 Neptunian Troy to be o'erthrown. 
 
 'Twiis as when hinds, with stroke on stroke 
 
 Of double-headed iron axe. 
 
 Have nigh cut through, and emulous strive 
 
 To overthrow, an ancient ash, 
 
 Somewhere among- the lofty mountains: 
 
 With trembling locks, and crown concussed 
 
 At every stroke, it nods its head. 
 
 And threatens still, till, gradually 
 
 With wounds o'ercome, away it 's torn. 
 
 And, with a long- and loud last groan, 
 
 Down tumbles on the hills, a riiin. 
 
 ''Descending- thence, I make my way. 
 Under the g-uidance of the Godhead, 
 Throug-h the midst of flames and weapons ; 
 Weapons give way and let me pass. 
 The flames retire before me. 
 But when the whole way / have traversed, 
 And reached the old paternal mansion. 
 My sire, whom first 1 sought, and fain 
 Had carried first to the high mountains, 
 
 6* 
 
84 
 
 Refuses to survive Troy's fall, 
 Or prolong- Iris life by exile: — 
 '0 ye, whose blood is young- and fresh. 
 Whose firm strength on itself relies, 
 Flee ye', he says; 'me to live longer 
 Had the celestial denizens wished, 
 They had preserved for me this home. 
 Enough, more than enough for me 
 I Once to have seen the city taken, 
 I And once outlived its overthrow. 
 I Of this dead C()rse, this laid -out C()rse, 
 I Take now your long and last farewell : 
 ^ I 'II fight until the foe, in pity, 
 
 Or to obtain my spoils, despatch me. 
 I can dispense with tomb and burial. 
 Odious to heaven, and useless here, 
 This long- time now, my lagging- years, 
 Since the Gods' sire and king of men 
 Blew on me with his thunder's blast. 
 And struck me with his fire.' 
 
 "So he persisted saying. 
 
 Unchangeable and resolved: 
 
 We, on the other hand, 
 
 With floods of tears beseech him — 
 
 I and my spouse Creiisa, 
 
 Ascanius, and the whole house — 
 
 Beseech him, the house -father. 
 
 Not to superadd 
 
 Pressure to fate's pressure, 
 
 Nor with himself the house 
 
 And all of lis undo. 
 
 Absolute he refuses, 
 
II. 85 
 
 And iiniiiovable sits fixed 
 
 111 the same spot and piirpose. 
 
 •'1 rush to arms again, 
 
 And in my misery's depth 
 
 Wish death; for now what counsel, 
 
 What chance of safety 's left: — 
 
 -And hast thou hoped, sire, 
 
 That I would stir one foot, 
 
 And thou left here behind? 
 
 And from a father's mouth 
 
 Hath such impiety fallen? 
 
 If of so great a city 
 
 The powers above are pleased 
 
 That nothing shall be left, 
 
 And if thou 'rt quite determined, 
 
 And think'st it right to add 
 
 Thy family and thyself 
 
 To the fall of falling Troy, 
 / That gate to death lies open; 
 / Pyrrhus will soon be here, 
 ; Who massacres the son 
 ! In presence of the sire, 
 \ And massacres the sire 
 
 Beside the very altar. 
 
 'Is it for this, kind mother, 
 
 ; Thou snatchest me unhurt 
 
 ;' Out of the midst of flames, 
 
 I Out of the midst of weapons, 
 
 [ That 1 may see the foe, 
 i 
 
 In the Ijosom of my home. 
 
 And Ascanius and my sire 
 
 And Creiisa, lying butchered. 
 
m II. 
 
 And weltering- side by side, 
 
 Each in the other's blood? 
 
 Bring- arms, ye brave, bring- arms; 
 
 The last day calls the conquered; 
 
 To the Danai' give me back; 
 
 To the fight let me again; 
 
 Let 's renew once more the battle; 
 
 This day we shall not all, 
 
 Not all die unrevenged.' 
 
 "Then with my sword new-g-irt. 
 And into my shield's handle 
 Inserting my left arm, 
 I was riishing (5iit of doors, 
 When, behold! upon the threshold 
 My spouse clings round my feet, 
 And in her arms forth stretches 
 Little Iiilus to his sire: — 
 
 'If to die thou dej>artest, 
 
 Take lis with thee too 
 
 Into all the worst dang-ers; 
 
 But if thine experience 
 
 Has hope still in arms, 
 
 Defend this house first. 
 
 To whom left thy su'e, 
 
 And little lulus? 
 
 To whom left am 1, 
 
 Whom thou once call'dst thy wife?' 
 
 "With siich loud cries and groans 
 She was fillinj^ the whole building, 
 When a prckligy rose siidden, 
 And wonderful to tell; 
 
87 
 
 For there, among the hands, 
 And before the very faces, 
 Of the sorrowful parents, 
 L6! a Ught and pointed flame 
 From the tip top of tlie head 
 Of liilus seemed to shed 
 A blaze of liglit around, 
 And with innoxious touch 
 Lick hghtly his soft luiir, 
 And feed about his temples. 
 
 ''In trembling fear and flurry 
 
 We shake the flaming hair, 
 
 And busily with w^ater 
 
 The sacred fire extinguish; 
 
 But sire Anchises joyful 
 
 His eyes Hfts tow^ard the stars, 
 
 And t(3ward the heaven directs 
 
 His voice and (uitstretched hands: — 
 
 '0 thou, almighty Jove! 
 
 If any prayers may bend thee, 
 
 Do but k)ok upon us; 
 
 And then, if thou shouldst find 
 
 Our piety deserving, 
 
 Give us thy lielp, sire! 
 
 And ratify this omen.' 
 
 " Scarce had the old man said, 
 When with a sudden crash 
 It thundered on the left, 
 And darting from the sky 
 A star with luminous train 
 Shot across the darkness. 
 We see it o'er the house top 
 
88 11. 
 
 Glidiii^^ along, and tracing 
 
 Its bright path, till it plunges 
 
 Into the Idean wood. 
 
 A long- and iiiminoiis streak 
 
 Is left where it has passed, 
 
 And, far and wide around. 
 
 The whole place fiimes with sulphur. 
 
 "Twas then indeed that, vanquished. 
 
 The sire arose, and went 
 
 Forth to the open air. 
 
 And adored the holy star, 
 
 And thiis the Gods addressed: — 
 
 'Now, now, there 's no delay; 
 
 I follow, and where'er 
 
 Ye lead, am present there. 
 
 Gods of my fatherland, 
 
 ! preserve my family ; 
 
 My grandson, 0! preserve; 
 
 This augury is yours. 
 
 And Troy 's in y()ur protection. 
 
 I yield indeed, my son, 
 
 And to keep thee company 
 
 Refuse not any longer.' 
 
 "He said, and now the fire 
 Sounds clearer through the city. 
 And the conflagration 
 Nearer rolls its tide: — 
 'Then come, dear father, mount 
 Upon my neck and shckilders; 
 To cai'ry you will be 
 To mv 110 irksome t(')il: 
 
11. 8'J 
 
 Betide what may betide, 
 For lis two there shaU be 
 One cuimiion risk, one safety; 
 Little IiUus keeps 
 In company witli me, 
 And in my steps far olT 
 My sponse Creiisa foUows. 
 Ye servants, give attention 
 To what 1 now shall say: — 
 
 'Facini^- those who leave the city 
 
 There 's an antique tiimulus, 
 
 And solitary fane of Ceres, 
 
 And, close by, an ancient cypress, 
 
 By our sires religiously 
 
 Preserved through many a year: 
 
 At tliat spot from different quarters 
 
 We meet together: thou, sire! 
 
 Take in thy hand the sacred objects, 
 
 And tlie fatherland Penates: 
 
 For me, just fresh come from the carnage 
 
 Of so great war, it were unpious 
 
 To lay hand on them, till 1 've made 
 
 Ablution in the running- stream.' 
 
 "1 said; and on my shoulders broad 
 
 And bent neck first a garment spreading-, 
 
 And then a tawny Uon's skin, 
 
 Place myself underneath my burden. 
 
 Little lulus in my right hand 
 
 Intwines himself, and to his sire. 
 
 With a child's shorter step, keeps close; 
 
 My wife comes on behind. 
 
90 II. 
 
 "Through dark ways we move on, 
 
 And 1, whom biit just now 
 
 No showering- missiles riif'fled, 
 
 Nor opposing troops of Graii', 
 
 By every air am frighted, 
 
 By every sound excited, 
 
 In anxious fear alike 
 
 For my comrade and my load. 
 
 "And now I neared the gates, 
 And thought 1 had made g-ood 
 The whole way, when, close by, 
 All of a sudden, seemed 
 Upon our ears to fall 
 The sound of tramping feet, 
 And through the shade my sire 
 Forthlooking cries: — 'My son, 
 0! flee, my son; they 're coming-; 
 1 see their burning- brass, 
 I see their flashing shields.' 
 
 "I know not what malignant Power 
 Of recollection here deprived me, 
 And flurried and confused my mind; 
 For as, the road's direction leaving, 
 I take my way through pnthless places, 
 Alas! some violent death snatched from me 
 My spouse Creiisa. It is doul)tfal 
 Whether she stopped, or lost her way, 
 Or tired sat down, but to our eyesight 
 Never since then was she rest()red: 
 Nor did 1 backward turn my look. 
 Or of the loss becoiue aware. 
 
91 
 
 Until to the old tiimulus 
 And Ceres' sacred seat we come: 
 When here at last we 're all collected, 
 She only to our number 's w^anting-, 
 And had not either by her comrades, 
 Or by her son, or spouse been seen. 
 
 "Whom of Guds or men. 
 
 Whom did I not reproach 
 
 In my raving- and delirium? 
 
 What sight more cruel siiw 1 
 
 In the sacking of the city? 
 
 Ascanius, sire Anchises, 
 
 And the Teiicrian Penates 
 
 1 hide in a curved valley, 
 
 And commend to my compc4nions. 
 
 In glittering arms Fm girt, 
 
 And seek again the city, 
 
 Resolute to bn'ive 
 
 All chances once again. 
 
 Through the whole of Troy return, 
 
 And to every danger 
 
 Expose my life once more. 
 
 "First I seek the walls, 
 And obscure gate -portal 
 By which 1 had passed out. 
 And my footmarks backwards 
 Explore with searching eye. 
 And through the night retread. 
 'Tis horror everywhere; 
 The very silence self 
 Strikes terror to the soul. 
 
92 11. 
 
 "Thence lioine, if by some cliance, 
 
 If by some cliance that way 
 
 Her footsteps she had turned; 
 
 The Danai had rushed in, 
 
 And were masters of the building-. 
 
 Up to the highest roof-top 
 
 By the wind that instant 
 
 Rolled the devouring- fire; 
 
 Above the house rise high, 
 
 And crackle to the sky. 
 
 The raging- heat and flame. 
 
 Thence onward 1 proceed, 
 
 And the residence oi Priam, 
 
 And the citadel revisit. 
 
 In the vacant porticoes 
 
 Of Juno's fane already 
 
 Phoenix and dire Ulysses, 
 
 Guards select, were watching- 
 
 The heaped up piles of booty. 
 
 Thither from all sides, 
 
 Torn from the burning- shrines 
 
 Troy's treasures were collected: 
 
 There were the captured vestments, 
 
 And solid golden goblets, 
 
 And tables of the (jods. 
 
 Boys and trembling- matrons 
 
 In long- array stand round. 
 
 "1 dared even to ci-y out, 
 And through the darkness sinuit, 
 And in sorrow called ''Creiisa", 
 Until 1 filled the streets 
 With the (3utcry of her name 
 
O.i 
 
 ()\cv and over agiuii , 
 Aiul over again in vain, 
 And over again, repeated. 
 
 "As through tlie city's houses 
 Thus in endless searcli I niged, 
 Befoi'e mine eyes appeared, 
 Larger than life, the shade. 
 Semblance, and imaged form 
 Of Creiisa's hapless self. 
 And in these wiji'ds addressed me, 
 And srjiaced tliiis my care: — 
 'What avails it, sweet spouse, 
 Such m(id grief to indulge? 
 These events do not occiir 
 Withfkit the will divine: 
 To take Creusa with thee. 
 Companion of thy travel, 
 His ordinance forbids 
 Who reigns o'er high Olympus. 
 
 'After a far exile, 
 
 After thou hast ploughed 
 
 The vast tract of the sea, 
 
 Thou shait at last arrive 
 
 At the Hesperian land, 
 
 Where with gentle current 
 
 Lydian Tyber flows 
 
 Tlu'ough rich and peopled fields. 
 
 A royal spouse, and kingdom. 
 
 And prosperity there wait thee. 
 
 Weep no more for loved Creiisa; 
 
 Never will I, a Dardan, 
 
V>4 II. 
 
 And Goddess Venus' daughter, 
 Tlie haug-hty seats behold 
 Of Myrmidon or Dolops, 
 Or g-6 to be a skive 
 To a Graian mistress; 
 The g-reat Gods' -mother me 
 Here in these shores detains. 
 And now farewell, and ev^er 
 Love our common son.' 
 
 "Into thin air, this said, 
 Deserting- me she fled. 
 And left me weeping' miich, 
 And much to say desiring. 
 About her neck there thrice 
 1 strove my arms to throw^; 
 Thrice from my frustrate g:rasp, 
 Light as the winds, the shade, 
 Swift as a dream, escaped. 
 
 "So spent the night, at kist 
 
 To my party 1 return : 
 
 And here I find with wonder 
 
 Great numbers of new comrades 
 
 From all sides had flowed in; 
 
 Matrons and men and youths, 
 
 A miserable crowd, 
 
 Ready with heart and substance 
 
 To follow me to exile, 
 
 Into whatever lands 
 
 1 might think fit to lead them 
 
 Away beyond the sea. 
 
IT. 95 
 
 "And now o'er Ida's tops 
 
 Liicifer was rising', 
 
 And leading- on the day; 
 
 Strong- bodies of tiie Danai' 
 
 Had possession of the gates, 
 
 And every hope was lost; 
 
 I yield: uplift my sire, 
 
 And my way take to the mountains. 
 
HI, 
 
 "After the Gods 
 Had thought fit to destr()y, 
 By a doom it deserved not, 
 The reahn Asiatic, 
 And lineage of Priam, 
 And proud Hium fell, 
 And all Troy Neptunian 
 Smoked from the ground, 
 Divine aug-uries drive us. 
 To seek out far lands. 
 Desert places of exile, 
 And close linder Antandrus 
 And Phrygian Mount Ida, 
 We build our fleet's fabric. 
 And our crew get together, 
 All uncertain whither 
 The fates may convey us, 
 Where allow us to halt. 
 
 '"Twas the very beg-inning- 
 And first of the summer, 
 When father Anchises 
 Cave orders to spread out 
 Our sails to the fates; 
 
in. 97 
 
 And in tears 1 take leave 
 
 or the shores of my country, 
 
 And the plains where Troy once was, 
 
 And sail out of port, 
 
 And away to the hig-h deep 
 
 An exile am borne 
 
 With my comrades and S()n 
 
 And the great Gods Penates. 
 
 ''From Troy's coast far distant, 
 The Thracians inhabit 
 A land to Mars sacred, 
 Vast wide -spreading' plains, 
 By doughty Lycdrg-us 
 hi old time reig-ned over. 
 And closely united 
 With Troy in relations 
 Friendly and social, 
 While Troy was a city. 
 
 "I sail thither, and landing 
 By no kind fate sanctioned. 
 Among the shore's windings 
 Begin straight to build, 
 And from my own name, 
 Call my people Eneadae. 
 
 " A sleek, shining biill 
 To the King of the Gods 
 On the shore I was offering, 
 And praying the mother 
 Dionean to bless 
 The works I 'd l)egiin : 
 
08 III. 
 
 It chanced that a tumulus 
 
 Near hand was standing, 
 
 O'ergTown with shrub cornel, 
 
 And stiff spikes of myrtle. 
 
 I went to it, and strove 
 
 From the sward to tear up 
 
 Some green wood for boughs, 
 
 To garland the altars, 
 
 When a prodigy horrid, 
 
 And strange to relate, 
 
 To my eyes was presented: 
 
 For from the first sapling, 
 
 Pulled out of the ground, 
 
 Black drops of blood drip, 
 
 Where 'twas broke from the root. 
 
 And the earth stain with gore. 
 
 Cold horror my limbs shakes, 
 
 My blood with fear freezes. 
 
 Proceeding to pull up 
 
 Another tough withe. 
 
 And the hidden cause sift 
 
 And explore to the bottom, 
 
 From the other's rind too 
 
 The black drops of blood issue. 
 
 I biisy my mind 
 
 With conjectures, and offering 
 
 To the riiral nymphs homage. 
 
 And to father Gradivus, 
 
 The Getic plains' lord, 
 
 Beseech them to shed 
 
 On th' appearance their blessing, 
 
 And avert the bad omen: 
 
 But when I attempt 
 
in. 
 
 With a still greater effort 
 The third rod to wrench, 
 And with my knees, piishing- 
 Against the sand, strain — 
 Shall 1 speak out or hiish? — 
 I heard from tlie tomb's depth 
 A piteous groan issue, 
 And thiis a voice answer: — 
 
 *Why hicerate so 
 A poor wTetch, Eneas? 
 Dead and buried let rest; 
 And thy kind, tender hands 
 With siich a crime stain not. 
 Thine own Troy produced me, 
 And the blood from this stalk 
 Drips not stranger to thee. 
 Ah ! flee this land cruel. 
 These shores covetous flee, 
 For I'm Polydorus, 
 And this spiky crop 
 Has shot lip from the lances, 
 Sharp -pointed and thick- set, 
 That here pierced me through.' 
 
 "Then indeed 1 was frightened; 
 And stood hesitating 
 In doubt and amazement; 
 My voice to my throat clave, 
 My hair rose erect. 
 This Polydore, erewhile, 
 With gold a great weight, 
 To the Thnician King's keeping 
 
100 III. 
 
 Was privily sent 
 
 By unfortunate Priam, 
 
 When he saw the besiegers 
 
 Investing his city, 
 
 And began to distrust 
 
 The Dardan arms' strength. 
 
 His host, when the might 
 
 Of the Teiicri was broken. 
 
 And their fortune at eb]). 
 
 Takes part with the conquering 
 
 Arms Agamemnonian, 
 
 And every tie breaking, 
 
 Kills Polydorus, 
 
 And clutches the gold. 
 
 cursed thirst of gold, 
 
 To what crime persuad'st not 
 The bosom of mortals! 
 
 "When the fright left my bones, 
 
 1 relate to selected 
 Chief men of the people, 
 And first to my sire 
 The portents celestial. 
 And ask their advice. 
 All are of the one mind, 
 To give the sails loose 
 
 To the breath of the Austri, 
 And the wicked land leave. 
 That broke a host's faith. 
 
 "We solemnize therefore 
 The funeral of Polydoro, 
 And the tumulus henp huge, 
 
III. lOl 
 
 And pile up with earth; 
 And to the Manes 
 Raise altars , festooned 
 With dark violet fillets 
 And sorrowful cypress. 
 The women of Ilium 
 Stand round, as of wont, 
 With long- hair dishevelled. 
 Foaming- milk- boats funereal 
 Of warm milk we offer, 
 And bowls of blood sacred; 
 Then invoke with a hist shout, 
 And in the tomb biiry. 
 The soul of the dead. 
 
 "Then as soon as the winds 
 And the sea had grown placid, 
 And seemed fair to promise, 
 And Auster's mild rustling- 
 To the high deep invited, 
 Our crews o'er the shores spread. 
 And luuil down the vessels; 
 We sail out of port; 
 Lands and cities recede. 
 
 "Amidst the sea lies, 
 Most dehghtful to dwell in, 
 A land consecrate 
 To Neptune Aegean 
 And the motiier of the Nereids; 
 Which, in old time wide floating- 
 About the coasts round, 
 The affectionate Bowbearer 
 
102 III. 
 
 Bound between lofty 
 Mycon and Gyariis, 
 And steadied securely, 
 That it might receive culture, 
 And at nousht set the winds. 
 
 'O' 
 
 ''My course I shape thither; 
 That most placid island's 
 Safe harbour receives us 
 Fatigued with our voyage. 
 Disembarked, we bow down 
 With reverence before 
 Apollo's own city. 
 We are met by King Anius, 
 Anius who King is 
 And high priest of Phoebus; 
 With his temples encircled 
 With laurel branch sacred 
 And diadem he meets us, 
 And soon recognizing 
 His old friend Anchises, 
 Clasps the hands of his guests. 
 Who clasp his in return, 
 And we enter the dwelling. 
 
 "In his time-worn stone temple 
 I worshipped the God: — 
 '0 grant us, Thymbreus, 
 A home of our own; 
 To our weariness grant 
 A fortified stronghold, 
 A permanent city, 
 And national line. 
 
III. loa 
 
 Troy's second Pergamus 
 
 save in lis, 
 
 In lis, the poor residue 
 
 Left by the Danai 
 
 And riitliless Acliiiles. 
 
 Whom hidst us follow? 
 
 Which way shall we tiirn? 
 
 Or where shall we settle? 
 
 Advise us , sire, 
 
 And iilide into our minds.' 
 
 O' 
 
 "Scarce had I said. 
 When of a sudden 
 All things seemed to rock. 
 And be put into motion, 
 Both the floor of the temple, 
 And the God's laurel, 
 And the whole mountain round; 
 The shrine was thrown open; 
 And from linder its curtain 
 Forth bellowed the Tripod. 
 To the ground we fall prostrate; 
 A voice to our ears comes: — 
 
 ' Hai'dy Dardanidae, 
 That land, whence the primitive 
 Stock of your race came, 
 Will welcome with joy 
 Your I'eturn to its lap: 
 Search on, till ye find out 
 Your ancient mother: 
 Enemas' house there 
 And his children's childj-en 
 
10 i III. 
 
 For ever and ever 
 
 O'er all lands shall reig-n.' 
 
 "So Phoebus; and great joy 
 In all rose tumultuous; 
 And where may that land be. 
 They ask one another, 
 To which Phoebus bids them 
 Their stray footsteps tiirn, 
 And there found their city. 
 
 "Then my sire, turning over 
 The old-time traditions. 
 Says: — 'Chieftains, give ear; 
 And from me learn your hopes. 
 In the sea's midst lies Crete 
 With its mountain Idean; 
 The isle of great Jove, 
 And the cradle of our race; 
 A rich teeming- realm 
 With a hundred great cities. 
 From thence came of old 
 Our mighty sire Teiicer, 
 If what I have heard 
 I recollect rightly, 
 And chose for his realm's site 
 The seacoast Rhoetean. 
 In the vales' depths they dwelt tlien, 
 And as yet was no Ilium, 
 No Pergamean towers. 
 Hence borrowed those rites, 
 That may not be discussed, 
 Of the Mother that loves 
 
III. 105 
 
 The haunts of Cybcle; 
 Hence the Corybants' cymbals, 
 Hence Ida's grove borrowed, 
 And the hons yoked linder 
 The car of our Lady. 
 Come then, let 's follow 
 Whither the Gods lead; 
 Let 's propitiate the winds, 
 And the Gnossian realms seek, 
 No leng-thy run distant: 
 With Jupiter's help, 
 The third day sets our fleet 
 On the sea-bord of Crete.' 
 
 "He said; and the Gods 
 With due offerings honored; 
 To Neptune a bull slew. 
 To thee, fair Apollo, 
 A bull on the altar; 
 To Hiems, a black sheep; 
 A white, to fair Zephyrs. 
 
 "Expelled out of Crete 
 And the realms of his sires 
 'Twas reported that chieftain 
 Idomeneus had fled, 
 And left us a home there, 
 And none to molest us. 
 Ortygia's port leaving 
 We skim swiftly over 
 The island -sown sea, 
 Through the clustering Cyclades, 
 By Olearos along. 
 
106 III. 
 
 And snowy -white Paros, 
 
 And verdant Donysa, 
 
 And the Bacchanal -revelled 
 
 Mountains of Naxos. 
 
 Cheerily sailors call; 
 
 Busy the hands of all: — 
 
 'For the land of our foresircs, 
 
 For Crete,' is the cry. "^''^^'^^ 
 
 A wind rises aft, 
 
 And goes with us along-, 
 
 And to the shores 
 
 Of the ancient Curetes 
 
 At last we come gliding. 
 
 "1 set about therefore, 
 And eagerly work at, 
 The walls of the city 
 I 'd so longed to see rising; 
 And call it Pergamea; 
 And my people exhort 
 To cling close to a home 
 By so dear a name called, 
 And rear high their castle. 
 
 "But scarce were the ships 
 On the dry shore drawn up ; 
 And the young people busy 
 With farming their new latidis, 
 And marriage contracting; 
 And with law -giving, 1, 
 And assigning of dwellings; 
 When on the limbs sudden. 
 And on trees and crops, 
 
ni. 107 
 
 From the poisonous air 
 Of the unhealthy season, 
 Came a pestilence piitrid, 
 A wretched disease, 
 That killed the sweet life 
 Or left the frame sickly. 
 Burning- Sirius the grass 
 And the fields shrivelled lip ; 
 And the dry, blasted crop 
 No nourishment yielded. 
 O'er the sea back again, 
 My sire bids us measure 
 Our way to Ortygia; 
 There to beg- Phoebus' g-race, 
 And the oracle ask. 
 To what quainter now 
 is our course to be shaped, 
 Where may our weariness 
 Hope to find rest, 
 What end, what relief 
 He appoints to our labors. 
 
 "'Twas night; and all things 
 That had life were asleep ; 
 When the Phrygian Penates, 
 Whose images sacred 
 I brought with me out 
 Of the midst of Troy's flames, 
 Seemed, as 1 lay sleeping-, 
 To stand manifested 
 In nuich light before me, 
 Where the full moon was through 
 The wide-open sash streaming-, 
 
108 III. 
 
 And thiis to address me, 
 And solace my cares : — 
 
 'What Apollo would telt thee 
 Arrived at Ortyg-ia, 
 Behold! he sends us, 
 Of his own free accord, 
 To declare to thee here. 
 Since the fire of Dardania 
 Thy fortunes we 've followed 
 And those of thine arms; 
 We have sailed in thy ships, 
 And along with thee measured 
 The swollen sea across ; 
 'Tis we that shall empire 
 Confer on thy city, 
 And raise to the stars hig-h 
 The heirs of thy line. 
 But thou, from thy travel's 
 Long labour not shrinking-, 
 Prepare a great city 
 For great men to dwell in: 
 It was not on these shores, 
 It was not in Crete, 
 The Delian Apollo 
 Bade thee to settle; 
 Thou must seek other ({uarters. 
 
 'Hesperia 's the name 
 Which the Graii' bestow 
 On an old warlike land, 
 Of a rich fruitful glebe. 
 
in. 100 
 
 By tir Oenotrii" once tilled, 
 And at the present time 
 Called, it is said. 
 By the young- race, Italia, 
 From the name of a chief. 
 There our rightful abode; 
 Thence Dardanus sprang, 
 And father lasius. 
 The head of our race. 
 Up, up, and joyfully 
 Tell thine aged sire 
 These truths beyond question. 
 Let him Cory thus seek, 
 And th' Ausonian lands; 
 Jove to thee grants not 
 The fields Dictean.' 
 
 "By the vision astonished, 
 And voice of the Gods, 
 (Nor was it mere sleep, 
 For I plainly observed 
 The filleted hair. 
 And look of the Deities 
 Present and speaking; 
 And the cold sweat was streaming 
 My whole l)ody over,) 
 I spring from the couch, 
 And my voice, and the [)alms 
 Of my upward -turned hands, 
 r>irecting towards heaven, 
 P()ur on the heartttr, lire 
 The unmixed wine li])ation. 
 
10 III. 
 
 "The worship completed, 
 I tell the whole case, 
 With joy, to Anchises. 
 He admitted the twofold, 
 Ambiguous, extraction; 
 And that he had now 
 A second time erred 
 A])6ut these old places; 
 Then says: — '0 my son. 
 So by Ilium's fates harassed, 
 Cassandra alone 
 Such adventures foretold me. 
 I recollect now. 
 Her prophecies promised 
 These realms to our race, 
 And oft called them Italia, 
 Hesperia oft called them. 
 But who could believe 
 That the Teiicri would come 
 To the coasts of Hesperia? 
 Or who had faith then 
 In Cassandra's foretelling-s ? 
 Let us give w^ay to Phoebus, 
 And, taught by this lesson. 
 Do l^etter in future.' 
 
 "He says; and we all, 
 Huzzaing and joyful. 
 Obey his command; 
 This settlement too 
 Desert, and a few 
 Behind in it leaving, 
 Set sail, and away 
 
IIT. 
 
 In our hollow sliips sciid 
 Tlie vast sea -plain over. 
 
 "And now o'er the high deep 
 We wei'e holding' our way on, 
 x\nd no land was in sig-ht, 
 But on every side round us 
 Sky only and sea, 
 When, right over our heads 
 And the dark curling- waves, 
 Stood a livid cloud lowering-. 
 With night charged and tempest. 
 In an instant the winds 
 Raise the vast raging^ sea. 
 And disperse us and toss us 
 About on the billows. 
 Through rifts in the stormclouds 
 That hide from our sight, 
 And lap in damp niglit. 
 The sky and daylight, 
 Shoots the lightning- in volleys. 
 We are driven from our course, 
 And drift about blindly 
 Over the waters. 
 Paliniirus himself 
 Protests he 's unable 
 Day in the sky 
 To distinguish from nig:ht, 
 Or, in the midst 
 Of the sea, find his way. 
 Three days dim -distinguished, 
 Three starless nij^lits, so 
 In blind darkness we drift; 
 
112 III. 
 
 On the fourth day at length 
 
 Land is first seen to rise, 
 
 And brings into view mountains 
 
 Away in the distance, 
 
 And shows curling- smoke. 
 
 Down drop our sails, 
 
 To our oars we rise lip, 
 
 And without more ado 
 
 Away pull the crew, 
 
 And twirling the dripping foam 
 
 Sweep o'er the bliie. 
 
 "The Strophades' coasts 
 Are the first to receive me, 
 Saved from the waters; 
 The Strophades, so 
 By a Graian name called, 
 Are islands that lie 
 In the great sea Ionian, 
 Where direful Celeno 
 And the rest of the Harpies 
 Dwell ever since 
 From their former carouse 
 They were frighted away, 
 And against them was closed 
 The palace of Phineus. 
 More foul pest than they 
 The Gods' wrath sent never; 
 Never from Stygian wave 
 Rose direr monster. 
 Faces of damsels, 
 Bodies of birds, 
 With foulest dung- droppings, 
 
III. 113 
 
 And hands crooked to talons, 
 And visages ever 
 Pallid with famine. 
 
 "When, hither arrived, 
 We had the port entered, 
 Lo ! we see, everywiiere 
 In the fields, without keeper 
 Glad herds of oxen 
 And flocks of goats grazing-. 
 Sword in hand we rush on, 
 And to a share 
 Of the prey call the Gods, 
 And Jiipiters self; 
 Then raise dining couches 
 Upon the curved shore, 
 And splendidly feast; 
 Biit, on a sudden, 
 Down from the mountains 
 The Harpies are on us, 
 With horrible clapping 
 And clanging of wings, 
 Marauding, despoiling, 
 And with unclean touch 
 Polluting the viands; 
 Screaming dire all the while. 
 And a noisome stench shedding. 
 
 "Again we lay out. 
 In a place far remote, 
 Underneath an overhanging 
 Rock's shelter, our tables, 
 With trees closed all round 
 
114 ITT. 
 
 And thick branching umbrage, 
 
 And on the altars 
 
 Again place the fire. 
 
 Again come the clanging pack 
 
 Out of their hidings, 
 
 And from a different 
 
 Quarter round gliding, 
 
 Pollute with their talons 
 
 And foul mouths the viands. 
 
 1 then bid my comrades 
 
 Betake them to arms, 
 
 And Ihat war with the dire crew 
 
 Miist needs be waged. 
 
 They do as commanded, 
 
 And in the herbage 
 
 Swords hide and shields. 
 
 So when the whirr 
 
 Of their downward flight sounded 
 
 Along the curved shore, 
 
 And MIsenus with trumpet -blast, 
 
 From his high look-out, 
 
 Has given them the signal. 
 
 My comrades rush on, 
 
 And the novel fight try. 
 
 To wound with their swords 
 
 The sea's birds obscene. 
 
 But they take no hiirt 
 
 Or on plumage or body. 
 
 And away toward the sky 
 
 In rapid flight gliding, 
 
 Their half- eaten prey 
 
 Leave behind and foul traces. 
 
 On a lofty- browed rock 
 
m. Hi 
 
 One, Celeno, her perch takes, 
 And, lin lucky soothsayer, 
 Croaks forth these words: — 
 
 'And wage ye war too, 
 Laomedon's sons. 
 War too for the oxen 
 And steers ye have slaughtered ? 
 And will ye the innocent 
 Harpies expel 
 
 From their country and realm? 
 Hear therefore my words 
 And in your minds fix them. 
 What the Father almighty, 
 To Phoebus Apollo, 
 Wliat Phoebus Apollo 
 To me hath foretold, 
 I, the chief of the Fiiries, 
 Reveal now^ to you. 
 For Italia you 're bound, 
 And to Italia. 
 After your vows 
 Ye have made to the winds, 
 Ye shall safely arrive. 
 And to land on it 
 Shall be allowed you; 
 But ye shall not wall round 
 Your appointed city, 
 Until after dire famine. 
 Avenging this undeserved 
 Onslaught on lis, 
 Has compelied you to nibble 
 And gnaw round your trenchers.' 
 
 8* 
 
116 III. 
 
 " She said ; and fled ofl" 
 
 To the wood on her pinions. 
 
 "Then with siidden fear freezes 
 The blood of my comrades^ 
 Their courage is fallen, 
 Nor will they on arms 
 Rely any 16n§-er, 
 But with prayers and entreaties 
 The good will implore 
 Of those beings, whatever 
 Their nature may be ^ 
 Goddes-ses whether, 
 Or dire birds obscene. 
 And father Anchises 
 With palms wide spread out, 
 As he stands on the shore. 
 Invokes the great Gods, 
 And ordains the due honors: — 
 'Avert, ye kind Gods, 
 The catastrophe threatened, 
 And your worshippers save.' 
 Then bids them loosen 
 And shake out the rope coils, 
 And the stay cable 
 Haul ofT from the shore. 
 South breezes our sails stretch, 
 And, following the call 
 Of the steersman and wind. 
 We scud over the foam. 
 
 "And now midst the waves 
 Shrub Zacynthus appears, 
 
V 
 
 III. 117 
 
 And Dulichium, Same, 
 
 And Neritos' steep cliffs: 
 
 We flee far away 
 
 From Laertian Ithaca's 
 
 Rocky domains, 
 
 And deep curse the land 
 
 That nursed fell Ulysses. 
 
 By and by Mount Leucata's 
 
 Summits tempestuous, 
 
 And the fane of Apollo, 
 
 The terror of sailors, 
 
 Upon our view opens. 
 
 Our weary course thither 
 
 We tiirn, and heave to 
 
 Beside the small city. 
 
 From the prow drops the anchor 
 
 The sterns line the shore. 
 
 "And so of firm land, 
 Beyond all expectation 
 At last in possession. 
 We perform our lustrations, 
 And Jove's altars kindle; 
 And solemnize g-ames 
 In discharge of our vows, 
 And let Actium's shores witness 
 The pastimes of Ilium; 
 Our folk (in deliight 
 To have made g-ood their flight 
 Through the midst of the foe's 
 Many cities Argolic), 
 Enacting with naked 
 
118 111. 
 
 And oil -besmeared shoulders 
 Their native gymnastics. 
 
 "In the meantime the siin 
 Round the great year is rolled, 
 And frore winter's north -easters 
 Roughen the sea. 
 1 bid them their places 
 Take on the row -benches, 
 And set out from port. 
 But first in the front 
 Of the gate I set up 
 The concave brass buckler, 
 Great Abas once carried, 
 And with this scroll inscribe: 
 From the conquering Ddna'i 
 Eneas these spoils took. 
 Then every oar strives 
 Which will smite the sea stoutest, 
 And bravely we sweep 
 O'er the face of the deep. 
 
 "Straightway from our view 
 Slip away the Pheacian 
 Citadels airy. 
 Along by the coasts 
 Of Epirus we skim, 
 The Chadnian port enter, 
 And lie to before 
 Buthrotus' high city. 
 
 "An incredible rumour 
 Here reaches our ears, 
 
111. 110 
 
 That of Phrygian Eacides' 
 
 Cunsort and sceptre 
 
 Now hi possession, 
 
 Priam's son Helenns 
 
 Killed far and wide 
 
 O'er the Graian cities, 
 
 And that Andromache 
 
 Called once again 
 
 A compatriot, lord. 
 
 1 was struck with amazement; 
 
 My breast was inflamed 
 
 With a wondrous desire 
 
 To speak with the hero. 
 
 And hear from himself 
 
 Of adventures so strange; 
 
 1 leave fleet and shore, 
 
 And walk lip from the port. 
 
 '•It chanced, in a sacred grove 
 Outside the city, 
 By the side of a mimic 
 Simois' waters, 
 Andromache weeping, 
 To the cinders of Hector 
 Was pouring libation, 
 The Manes invoking, 
 And ofTering the solemn 
 And sad viand -offering. 
 At the Cenotaph tiimulus, 
 And two sacred altars, 
 She had built of green tiirf. 
 
120 III. 
 
 "When she saw me approaching-, 
 And about me men armed 
 With the armour of Troy, 
 Seized with wild fright 
 At the marvellous sight, 
 She grew cold and stiff, 
 And sank down in a swoon; 
 And, after a long- time, 
 Thus hardly at last said: — 
 
 * Is it a real face, 
 And com' St thou thyself, 
 Substantial and living, 
 
 Goddess -born? 
 Or if unsubstantial 
 And not of this world, 
 
 Then why comes not Hector?' 
 
 "She said; and with tears 
 
 And laments the whole place filled. 
 
 "With mind discomposed, 
 And stammering- utterance 
 
 1 can scarce to her raving-. 
 In syllables broken 
 These few words reply: — 
 'I live indeed — doubt not, 
 For real what thou see'st — 
 And through all extremities 
 Drag on existence. 
 
 thou that hast fallen 
 From a wedlock so high, 
 Ah! what 's thy lot now? 
 Is Pyrrhus thy lord still? 
 
in. 121 
 
 Or does a suitable 
 Fortune at last 
 Visit her that was once 
 Hector's Andromache? 
 
 " She cast down her look, 
 And with humble voice said: — 
 ' Oh I happy was she, 
 Above all Priam's daug^hters, 
 Who beneath Troy's high walls, 
 At the enemy's tomb 
 Was commanded to die; 
 No lotcasting' for captives 
 Had she to endiire, 
 No bed ever touched 
 Of a conqueror and master. 
 But I, made a slave 
 When my country was biirned. 
 Over far seas must travel, 
 And the proud humors bear 
 Of the haughty young shoot 
 Of the stock of Achilles ; 
 Who after a child's birth 
 Transferred me, his bondsmaid, 
 To Helenus his bondsman, 
 And away went a -wooing^ 
 Ledean Hermione's 
 Hand Lacedemonian. 
 But Orestes, inflamed 
 By the loss of the bride 
 He so tenderly loved, 
 And his thoughts' even tenor 
 
122 III. 
 
 Disturbed by his own crime's 
 Retributive Furies, 
 Pounces on him unwary, 
 And slays him in front 
 Of the altar domestic. 
 
 'Neoptolemus dead, 
 A part of his empire 
 To Helenus fell; 
 Who, from Chaon the Trojan, 
 These plains called Cliaonian, 
 And the name of Chaonia 
 Bestowed on the kingdom; 
 And with this Pergamus' 
 Strong castle Ilian 
 These hill tops completed. 
 But what winds have blown thee 
 To these coasts of (kirs? 
 Or what fate hath led thee, 
 What God driven thee, hither, 
 In ig-norance total 
 Of all that has happened? 
 And how does Ascanius? 
 Is still the boy living 
 Whom while Tr()y was a city — 
 Is the loss of his i)arent 
 A grief to him sometimes? 
 Does his breast ever glow 
 With the old martial spirit? 
 Does he ever remember 
 He 's son of Eneas, 
 And nephew of Hector?' 
 
in. 123 
 
 '* As thiis slie was pouring 
 Her long- lamentation, 
 And all in vain weeping-, 
 Forth out of the fortress, 
 By a great suite escorted, 
 Comes Priam's son Helenus, 
 His friends recognises. 
 And leads with joy in; 
 And with each word he utters 
 Sheds many a tear. 
 1 observe on my way 
 How hke to great Troy 
 Their mimic Troy city 
 And Pergamus tiny, 
 With the scanty dry streamlet 
 They call after Xanthus, 
 And clasp to my bosom 
 Their Scaean gate's portal. 
 
 "Nor, at the same time, 
 Enjoyed not the Tedcri 
 Their city of friends; 
 The King entertained them 
 In porticoes ample; 
 In the midst of the hall 
 Stood the golden -served banquet 
 And with bowls in their hands 
 They libated to Bacchus. 
 
 "And so, as away 
 Fleeted day after day. 
 And the breezes of Auster, 
 Inflating the lint -sheet, 
 
124 III. 
 
 Invited to sail, 
 
 I accost in these words, 
 
 And inquire of, the seer: — 
 
 '0 thou Trojan-born, 
 
 Who interpret'st the Gods; 
 
 Who Phoebus' divine will 
 
 Perceivest and feel'st; 
 
 Who expoundest the Clarian's 
 
 Laurels and tripods, 
 
 The signs of the stars, 
 
 And the language of birds, 
 
 And the omens derived 
 
 From the swift- flying wing, 
 
 say — for the Gods, 
 
 With one only exception. 
 
 To Italy call me, 
 
 And the lands reserved for me 
 
 Command me to try; 
 
 And religion my whole course 
 
 Has promised me prosperous, 
 
 Only Harpy Celeno 
 
 With awful wrath threatens, 
 
 And predicts us a famine. 
 
 Foul, strange, and prodigious, 
 
 And siich as no pious soul 
 
 Dare even speak of — 
 
 Say what 's the chief danger; 
 
 These difTiculties how 
 
 Sliall I best shun or conquer. 
 
 "Here Helenus, first 
 Having slaughtered the steers 
 
ITT. 125 
 
 By the ritual required, 
 Entreats the heaven's grace; 
 And, unloosing- the tiar 
 From his sanctified head, 
 Me, in anxious suspense 
 And awe of the God's 
 Great manifestation, 
 Leads himself, in his hand, 
 To thy dwelling, Phoebus, 
 Then in prophetic strain 
 From his divine mouth 
 Thus sang the priest: — 
 
 '0 born of a Goddess! 
 Since the greatness is plain 
 Of the auspices which 
 O'er the high deep escort thee — 
 Since the monarch of Gods 
 Appoints the Fates so. 
 So disposes events 
 In succession and order — 
 Some out of many points 
 FlI explain to thee, 
 That thou may'st with more safety 
 The sea take for host, 
 And securely at last 
 In Ausonian port settle. 
 To know more than this, 
 Or more than this tell. 
 The ban of the Parcae 
 And Jiino Satiirnian 
 Helenus hinders. 
 
12G HI. 
 
 'First of all, that Italia 
 Thou deem'st near at hand, 
 And whose ports thou prepar'st, 
 As if close at the door, 
 (Ah how little thou know'st!) 
 All at once to invade, 
 Beyond many a land's 
 Wide impassable tract 
 Lies far far away. 
 Thine oar thou must tiig' 
 In Trinacria's waters, 
 The briny Ausonian 
 Must navigate round, 
 The Infernal Lakes visit, 
 And pass by the island 
 Of Circe Eean, 
 Before thou canst settle 
 On safe land thy city. 
 I '11 tell thee the tokens: 
 Keep them stored in thy mind. 
 
 'When thou, in the midst 
 Of thy trouble and cire, 
 Beneath the holm oaks 
 That border the banks 
 Of a river retired, 
 A j^reat white sow shalt find 
 Stretched at leng-th on the g-round, 
 Giving Slick to her f.'irrow 
 Of thirty young pigs, 
 Each as white as herself. 
 That spot 's thy sure rest 
 And the site of thy city. 
 
J 27 
 
 .... ^' 
 
 Cut Italy off .'frenchcrs; 
 From the s'a way find, 
 So thati'i called on 
 } Will come to thine aid. 
 
 'But avoid the edge next us 
 Of Italy's shores; 
 Wicked Graii" inhabit. 
 And fill with their cities. 
 All that tract which is waslied 
 By this sea -surf of ours; 
 Here the Locri Narycian 
 Their city have built, 
 And with his soldiery 
 Lyctian Idomeneus 
 Occupies wide 
 The Sallentine plains. 
 Here too on the strength 
 Of her wall Philoctetian 
 Relies with all conlidence 
 ■~hief Meliboeus's 
 As. Petilia. 
 
 'Even when on the off side 
 / Thy fleet has arrived, 
 And on the seashore 
 Thou art raising thine altars 
 And paying thy vows. 
 Thy locks thou must shroud, 
 And thy face cover lip. 
 With a wrapper of purple, 
 Lest, whilst at the blazins: 
 
128 
 
 \ HI. 
 
 And sanctifiv 
 
 ^ , , that Italia 
 Thou art honors 
 
 . , , „. at hand, 
 
 An enemy s face ' 
 
 By some chance meet k^^'^ ' ' 
 
 And mar all the omens. •^— -.^ 
 
 Let thyself, let thy comrades, 
 
 This custom observe, 
 
 Thy posterity ever 
 
 In holiness keep, 
 
 And abide by, this ritual. 
 
 'But when on thy way 
 Thou hast set out from hence, 
 And the wind wafts thee near 
 To the coast of Sicilia, 
 And the straits of Pelorus 
 Begin to grow wide, _, - 
 
 Keep away from the waters /'' 
 
 And shore on the starboard, / 
 
 And, away to the larboard ) 
 
 In long circuit tacking, / 
 
 The left shore sweep round. 
 
 'They say that these kinds, 
 At first one and continuous, '^ 
 
 Have, at some time or other, 
 With mighty convulsion X 
 
 And vast wreck and riiin \ 
 
 In twain leaped asunder, 'W 
 
 (So powerful is time's lapse 
 To bring about changes,) 
 And that the sea, forcibly \ 
 
 In between rushing, 
 
 X 
 
 --kl 
 
;^^' 
 
 ni. 129 
 
 Cut Italy off 
 
 From the side of Hesperia, 
 So that an interposed 
 Frith's narrow waters 
 Now wash opposite cities 
 And opposite fields. 
 
 'The right side by Scylla 
 Is g-arrisoned strong; 
 Charybdis implacable 
 Sits on the left, 
 And into her whirlpool, 
 Sheer down perpendicular 
 Three times in succession 
 Each vast billow siicks, 
 And to the lipper air 
 Thrice aloft fling-s each, 
 And lashes the stars: 
 But Scylla the face has 
 Of a fair maiden, 
 And human her biist is 
 As far as the groin, 
 Where it ends in a monstrous 
 Hug-e triink of a grampus, 
 To a wolf's belly knit 
 And the tail of a dolphin: 
 And out of the dark 
 Cavern- hole that conceals her 
 She thrusts her face forth. 
 And drags ships on the rocks. 
 Far better to compass. 
 Although it del.'iy thee, 
 
130 IIT. 
 
 Trinacrian Pachynus, 
 
 With long circuit round, 
 
 Than one single look cast 
 
 On uncouth shapeless Scylla 
 
 In her vast cavern crouching-, 
 
 Or the rocks that resound 
 
 With her bliie cub -wolves' bark. 
 
 'Besides, (if in Helenus 
 
 Aught be of wisdom. 
 
 If any reliance 
 
 May be placed in the seer. 
 
 And if but with triith 
 
 Apollo his mind fills,) 
 
 Of this point, Goddess -])6rn, 
 
 This one point I'll forewarn thee, 
 • This one point above all, 
 ^ And over and over 
 
 I And over again 
 
 .1 
 
 I Will repeat and impress it; 
 \ To Juno's great Godhead 
 
 Address thy lirst vows. 
 
 To Jtino thy gifts bring. 
 
 To Jiino thy prayers sing, 
 
 And, with heart and soul poured forlh 
 
 In humble entreaties, 
 
 Subdiic to thy wishes 
 
 Tlu; j)()werful donna: "- -^„.. 
 
 So sh;ilt thou at i.-'ist 
 
 From Trinacria ])e passed 
 
 To Italy's confines, 
 
 Successful , vicMu'ious, 
 
III. 181 
 
 'When Italia thou 'st reached, 
 And the city of Cdma, 
 And rustling- Avernus' 
 Divine woods and lakes; 
 Thou Shalt see the crazed maid 
 That beneath the coved rock 
 Writes her verses prophetic 
 On pkicked leaves of trees: 
 So long as the door 
 Of the cave remains shiit. 
 These preserve their due order. 
 Arranged as she left them-; 
 But when the door opens, 
 The first pufT of wind 
 Sends the tender leaves flitting- 
 The whole cave about, 
 And the maid never caring 
 To catch, and dispose them 
 Anew in their order, 
 Inquirers away g-o ..-',' 
 
 As wise as they came,' ^ . ! ' • . 
 And tiirn with disgust '" '-^^ " ' ' . ' . 
 From the cave of the Sibyl.. • '* 
 " .' " ' ■: r U ' 
 
 'Here listen not thou. 
 Though thy comrades may chide thee. 
 And a fair wind may call thee, 
 And press thee to sait; 
 Nor the time lost to travel 
 Esteem of such value, 
 As not to go pay ' 
 
 Thy respects to the seer, 
 And beg she may please ao; 
 
 1) * 
 
132 HI, / 
 
 ( 
 
 Her closed lips to (3pen, 
 And g-ive to her prophecies 
 Utterance oral. •- 
 
 'Duly worshipped, the priestess i^ 
 
 Will clearly explain thee ^ 
 
 The nations Italian, 
 The Wc4rs that await thee, 
 And how thou may'st bt'St 
 Flee or bear every toil ; 
 And on thy way prosperous 
 Forward will send thee. 
 With these admonitions 
 My voice is permitted 
 
 To warn and advise thee. ^^ 
 
 Now go , and aloft 
 With thy brave deeds exalt 
 Mighty Troy to the ether.' 
 
 "The seer, when with friendly mouth 
 Thiis he had spoken, 
 Bids massy gold presents 
 Be brought to the vessels, 
 And on board of them great store 
 Of silver plate stows. 
 
 And ivory fillagree, i 
 
 Bowls Dodonean, 
 
 And the linked coat of ni.-'dl r^- 
 
 Neoptolemus wore 
 Of triple gold wire, 
 And his helmet so splendid 
 With horse-tail appended 
 To high towering crest. 
 
 A 
 
TIT. 133 
 
 Gifts appropriate, too. 
 He bestcnvs on my sire; 
 And presents us with horses, 
 Presents us with pilots. 
 The number of rowers 
 Fills up complete, 
 And with rowing- implements 
 Uigs us out new. 
 
 "Meantime to g-et ready 
 Our masts and our canvas, 
 And not lose the fair wind, 
 Anchises giA-es counsel : 
 And thus, with much honor 
 Addressing- him, says 
 The prophet of Phoebus: — 
 
 •0 thou, worthy deemed 
 Of Venus' high nuptials. 
 Special care of the Gods, 
 Anchises, twice rescued 
 From Pergamus' ruins, 
 Behold stretched bef(3re thee 
 The hind of Ausonia; 
 Sail away for it straight. 
 This near side, however, 
 Skirt along without touching; 
 Far from it apart 
 Lies that district Ausonian, 
 Apollo throws open. 
 On, on, of a duteous son 
 happy father: 
 The Austri are rising. 
 
134 in. 
 
 WliMt need (jf iijure talking'? 
 Of why slioiild 1 longer 
 With preaching delay thee?' 
 
 " Andromaclic too. 
 Sad at parting for ever, 
 Has broiig-ht for Ascaniiis — 
 Nor is the boy loth 
 "With the gift to be loaded — 
 A Phrygian- wrought Chlaniys 
 With figures embroidered 
 Upon a gold g-round; 
 And thiis to him says: — 
 
 ' Take this too , my boy ; 
 Let this work of my hands 
 Remind thee sometimes 
 Of the consort of Hector, 
 And of the long love 
 Andromache bears thee. 
 
 I Take thy relative's last gift. 
 
 I thou, the sole image 
 
 I On earth to me left 
 
 i 
 
 I Of Astyanax now; 
 
 j Like thine were his features, 
 
 i Like thine his hands' movements 
 
 His eyes glanced like thine, 
 
 And he would be, if living, 
 
 Just now the same ag-e, 
 
 Such a stripling: as thou.' 
 
 " With g-iishing tears tlnis 
 I addressed them at partin;,^: — 
 'Live in happiness ye, 
 
III. 135 
 
 Wlio already your fortunes 
 
 Have made and comi)leted. 
 
 While we out of ()ne fate 
 
 Are called to another, 
 
 Rest 's provided for you: 
 
 ]\o wide -spreading' sea -plain 
 
 Have ye to plough over; 
 
 No fields of Ausonia, 
 
 Still fleeing' before ye, 
 
 Have ye to pursue. 
 
 Ye have here, in your sight, 
 
 An image of Xanthus, 
 
 A Troy which your own hands 
 
 Have built, let me hope, 
 
 With auspices better 
 
 Than those of the old one, 
 •And to the Graii 
 
 Of access less easy. 
 
 If ever the stream 
 
 Of the Tyber 1 enter, 
 ; If 1 ever arrive at 
 \ The Tyberine fields, 
 ^ And see the strong city 
 
 That 's granted my pecjple, 
 
 We 'II blend and unite 
 
 Into one Troy in spirit 
 
 The two sister cities, 
 
 The two kindred peoples, 
 
 This in Epirus, 
 
 And that in Hesperia, 
 
 B(jth IVom one forefather 
 
 Dfirdanus sprung, 
 
 And the selfsame niisbu'tune; 
 
13G III. 
 
 And may our children 
 The bond preserve ever.' 
 
 "Whilst alon^ by the neighbouring 
 Ceraunians we steer, 
 Whence shortest the passage 
 Across to Italia, 
 The siin sets, and darkness 
 Falls thick on the niountahis: 
 Then dividing amongst us, 
 For tent -poles, our oars, 
 We lay us full length 
 On the land's welcome kip, 
 And rest and refresh us 
 Along the dry beach 
 At the edge of the water, 
 Till dewy sleep softly * 
 
 Steals on our tired limbs. 
 
 "Borne along by the Hours, 
 Night had not yet reached 
 The mid arch of heaven, 
 When lip from his couch 
 Alert springs Paliniirus, 
 And in his eax!s.Ji6llow 
 Each breath of air catching, 
 ■ Tries how the wind blows: 
 
 I Notes all the stars , silently 
 
 j In the sky gliding, 
 
 •' The twain Bears, Arctiirus, 
 
 ] And Hy'ades rainy, 
 And casts his eye round 
 On Orion's gold trappings; 
 
III. 137 
 
 Then seeing- the whole sky 
 
 For fair weatiier settled, 
 
 From the poop g-ives loud signal: 
 
 We decamp, spread our sails' wings, 
 
 And essay the voyage. 
 
 ''And now from before 
 The first red of Aurora 
 The stars had retreated. 
 When, dim in the distance, 
 The hills of. Italia 
 And lowland, we see. 
 'Italia!' Achates 
 Is first to cry out: 
 Italia the whole crew 
 Salute with glad shout. 
 Then father Anchises 
 Takes a great beaker. 
 And fills it with piire wine, 
 And garlands it round, 
 And on the high poop standing 
 Calls to the Gods : — 
 
 'Ye Gods that rule over 
 Lands, seas, and tempests. 
 Grant us a fair wind. 
 And prosper our voyage.' 
 The wished -for breeze rises. 
 And wafts us on steady. 
 The harbour, as near we draw, 
 Opens, and gives us 
 Full view of the temple 
 Of Ctistrum Minervae. 
 
138 III. 
 
 We fiirl sail, and toward the shore 
 
 Tdrn our ships' bows in. 
 
 The crescent -shaped harbour, 
 
 Scooped out by the force 
 
 01 the easterly billows, 
 
 Lies hid from the view 
 
 By a ledge of rocks, ever 
 
 With salt sea -spray fuming-. 
 
 The turret- crowned clilFs 
 
 Send down to the shore, 
 
 On this side and that, 
 
 Their long flanking wall. 
 
 Between, in the distance, 
 
 The temple 's seen rising. 
 
 "Here 1 see the first omen; 
 Four horses snow-white 
 In the open fields grazing: 
 And father Anchises: — 
 'These horses bode war, 
 For horses are part 
 Of the equipage warlike: 
 land, thou rcceivest 
 Our visit with war. 
 Yet there 's hope of peace too, 
 For these very same cattle 
 Arc at other times wont 
 To be yoked to one car, 
 And to draw in one harness 
 Harmonious togethej*. ' 
 
 "Then vailing our heads 
 With a close Phrygian muille, 
 
I if. 139 
 
 We beg, at armisonanl 
 
 Pcilias's altars, 
 
 The blessing and grace 
 
 Of the deity lioly. 
 
 Tliat heard tlie first joyous 
 
 llnrrahs of our hinding ; 
 
 And ilelenus' strictest 
 
 Injunctions o]>eying, 
 
 In due form ofTer lip 
 
 To Juno of Argos 
 
 The honors commanded; 
 
 Then, as soon as completed 
 
 Our vows' presentation, 
 
 Turn seaward the horns 
 
 Of our sheeted yard-arms, 
 
 i\nd the fiefcTs 'leave behind 
 
 And suspicious abodes 
 
 Of the born of the Graii. 
 
 "Seen on one hand the bay 
 Of Herculean Tarentum — 
 If fame truly surnames 
 Tarentum, Herculean — 
 While opposite rises 
 The temple Lacinian , 
 And Caulon's hill fortress, 
 And Scyiaceum's 
 Ship -wrecking- headland. 
 And aw^ay in the distance 
 We see from the billow 
 Trinacrian Etna: 
 And hear from afar 
 The loud, broken roar 
 
140 III. 
 
 Of the sea on the shore, 
 As with all its sands seething, 
 And billows exiiiting-, 
 lit beats on the rocks. 
 
 '' Then father Anchises : — 
 'This can be no other 
 Than that same Charybdis; 
 These here are the reefs, 
 These the horrible rocks, 
 Of which Heleniis warned us: 
 Bear away, hearty fellows, 
 iVnd evenly on your oars 
 Rise all together.' 
 
 "They obey the command; 
 And first Paliniirus 
 Round to the larboard 
 The braying prow tiigs; 
 Round to the larboard. 
 With oars and sails tacking-. 
 The whole squadron veers. 
 On the crest of the swell 
 We rise up to the sky, 
 Then sink in its deep trough 
 Down, down to the Manes. 
 The hollow rocks thrice 
 We heard raaring- below, 
 Thrice with the spirted spray 
 Saw the stars dripping-. 
 
 "In the meantime the wind, 
 With departing day, leaves us; 
 
III. 141 
 
 And to the Cyclops' coasts, 
 6i the way ignorant, 
 Weary we glide. 
 The port itself 's spacious, 
 And from the wind sheltered; 
 But, with riiin horrific. 
 Close by thunders Etna; 
 Sometimes, with tornado - burst 
 Up to the ether 
 A pitchy cloud throwing 
 Of smoke and red ashes, 
 And the stars licking 
 With volumes of flames; 
 Sometimes to the sky aloft. 
 With a roar, belching 
 Molten rocks rent 
 From its own stony bowels. 
 And volleys of splinters, 
 And from its lowest depths 
 Seething and harming. 
 
 "The rumour is rife, 
 That beneath this huge Etna 
 Squeezed lies Enceladus' 
 Half thunder - burnt body ; 
 W^hich has burst itself fliies, 
 \ And blazes out through 
 \ The mass superincumbent, 
 ' And with a smoky web 
 Weaves the whole sky: 
 And that, every time 
 He tiirns himself over 
 To rest his tired side. 
 
142 in; 
 
 All Trinacria rumbles, 
 And to the core trembles. 
 
 "Of the noises unearthly 
 We heard all that night , 
 As we lay in the woods, 
 No cause could we see; 
 For the sky's bright Ethereal, 
 And starfires were absent, > 
 
 And through thick murky rainclouds 
 Dead midnight's moon waded. 
 
 "And now in the early east 
 Morning was rising, 
 And Dawn had the dim shade 
 
 I Dispelled from the sky; 
 
 When out of the forest 
 A strange apparition 
 Comes suddenly forward : 
 A man, to the last degree 
 Wasted and haggard. 
 And to us a stranger; 
 And, in most piteous plight, 
 Toward the shore stretches 
 His suppliant hands. 
 
 "We tiirn our look toward him: 
 Lon^' board, and lilth shocking-; 
 Clothes with thorns stuck togi'ther: 
 In all else a Grman, 
 And (irst to Troy sent 
 In his fatherland arms. 
 
[II. 143 
 
 "But he, still afar. 
 At the sight of Troy's arms 
 And our costume Dardanian, 
 Checked his step all at once, 
 And a while stood affrighted: 
 Then . after a little , 
 Rushed down to the shore, 
 With tears and entreaties: — 
 
 'By the stars I adjiire ye. 
 By the powers supernal. 
 By the air we 're l>reathing\ 
 And the lig-ht of heaven, 
 Take me with ye, Teiicri, 
 To whatever lands; 
 To whatever lands, 
 So from this ye take me. 
 I deny not 1 am 
 Of those Danai one 
 Who with war invaded 
 The Penates Ilian. 
 Of which misdemeanour 
 If so great the crime be, 
 In the vast sea drown me, 
 To the billows fling- me, 
 Scatter me, piecemeal; 
 To perish 1 object not. 
 So it be by men's hands.' 
 
 "He said; and round our knees 
 cuing, and rolled, and twisted: 
 His name and his adventures, 
 And what stock he 's come of, 
 
144 III. 
 
 We bid him boldly tell : 
 And sire Anchises' self 
 Offers his hand at once, 
 And with the immediate pledge 
 Assures the young man's mind, 
 Who confident at last says: — 
 
 'By birth I am of Ithaca; 
 My name is Achemenides, 
 Unfortunate Ulysses' comrade; 
 To Troy, to seek my fortune, sent 
 By my poor father Adamastus — 
 Ah, that we still had poor remained I 
 My comrades, in their trepidation 
 And hasty quitting of the vast 
 And cruel cavern of the Cyclops, 
 Have here forsaken and forgot me. 
 Huge, gory, dark, that banquet-hall; 
 Himself knocks at the stars, so tall: 
 Gods, from siich a monster save us; 
 HI to look at, ill to accost; 
 A cannibal, that on the flesh 
 And grim blood of poor wretches feeds. 
 Myself have seen, where, as he lay 
 Stretched on his back in the cave's midst, 
 He seized with his broad hand, and smashed 
 Against the rock two of our number, 
 And set the floor all round about him 
 Swimming in a splash of sanies. 
 Myself have seen under his teeth 
 The warm limbs quivering, as he champed them 
 Oozy, and dripping with black gore: 
 Not with impunity however; 
 
in. 145 
 
 Nor were such pranks tamely endiired 
 
 By Ithaciis; nor did Ulysses 
 
 Forget himself in that conjuncture. 
 
 For on the instant that dead-driink, 
 
 And gorged with food, he drooped his head, 
 
 And lay, immense, stretched through the cave, 
 
 Erdcting in his sleep a mash 
 
 Of wine, and blood, and half- chewed flesh; 
 
 We, all at once, (beseeching- first 
 
 The great God's help, and to each man 
 
 By lot his several part assigning,) 
 
 From every side round pour upon him. 
 
 And with a sharp stake bore the eye, 
 
 The one, huge, sunk eye, that, as round 
 
 As Phoebus' lamp or shield Argolic, 
 
 Glared from beneath his lowering- forehead; 
 
 And so, with joy, revenge at last 
 
 The ghosts of our companions. 
 
 But flee, wretched beings, flee. 
 
 And break the rope ofT from the shore: 
 
 For everywhere these curved coasts round 
 
 A hundred other Cyclops dwell, 
 
 Or in the lofty mountains wander, 
 
 Each one as ligly, luige and monstrous, 
 
 As that same Polypheme, that pens 
 
 His woolly flocks in cavern hollow. 
 
 And from their lidders the milk squeezes. 
 
 'The moon is now her horns with light 
 The third time filling, since among- 
 The wild beasts' desert haunts and homes, 
 Here in the w^oods, I drag existence. 
 Eye the vast Cyclops on the rocks there, 
 
 10 
 
146 ITT- 
 
 And start at their voice -S()uncl and footsteps. 
 Upon uprooted weeds I feed, 
 And with the cornel's stony berries 
 Eke (Hit a pitiful subsistence. 
 
 'As all things round I reconnoitred, 
 This fleet toward the shore approaching- 
 Met my view first; to it, whatever 
 It might be, 1 've consigned myself, 
 Careless by your hands how I perish, 
 if I escape that crew accursed.' 
 
 "Scarce had he said, wdien we behold 
 Upon the hill -top, midst his sheep, 
 The shepherd Polypheme himself, 
 Unwieldily his vast bulk moving 
 In the shore's well known direction , 
 A horrid, shapeless, huge, bhnd monster. 
 A pollard pine -trunk, in his hand, 
 Steadies and directs his steps; 
 Along with him keep company 
 The woolly sheep, his sole delight, 
 
 I I And only solace of his woe; 
 
 V "''^'' His pastoral pipe hangs from his neck. 
 
 "When he had come down to the water, 
 And of the high waves felt the contact. 
 The bruised and clotted gore straightway 
 He washes from his eyeless socket, 
 Gnashing with his teeth and groaning; 
 And though far in tlie sea he 's walking, 
 No wave has bathed his tall flank yet. 
 
141 
 
 **We, upon our pnrt, silently 
 The cable ciit, and taking' with us 
 The suppliant who so well deserved it, 
 Speed away in trcpid;ition , 
 And bending forward on our oars, 
 Strive who will sweep the sea -plain fastest. 
 
 "He heard; and in the sound's direction 
 His footsteps turned; but when he could not 
 Lay hand upon us, or pursue 
 Fast as the Ionian waves retreated, 
 He raised such an immense loud shout 
 As made the sea with all its waves, 
 And the whole hind of Italy tremble, 
 To its inmost core affrighted, 
 And Etna's crooked caverns bellow. 
 
 "Then from the woods and lofty mountains 
 Down to the port excited rushing, 
 The clan of Cyclops fills the shores. 
 With grim- scowling' lowering eye, 
 Disappointed there they 're standing 
 In full view, the Etnean brothers, 
 A horrid divan, high to heaven 
 Their tall heads rearing , like a group 
 Of lofty -topped aerial oaks. 
 Or cypresses coniferous. 
 High sacred -grove of Jove or Dian. 
 
 "To loose our sails out to the breezes, 
 And flee headlong any whither. 
 The sharpness of our fear impels us; 
 But warned by Heleniis' instructions 
 
 10* 
 
148 III. 
 
 Not to attempt tlie narrow passage, 
 
 Separating' death by Scylla 
 
 From Charybdis' neighbouring- death, 
 
 To steer our course back we determine — 
 
 When from Pelorus' straits — behold! 
 
 Boreas comes down, and southward bears ns 
 
 Past Pantagia's rocky mouth. 
 
 And Megara's inlet, and low Thnpsus: 
 
 These ph'ices Achemenides, 
 
 Hapless Ulysses' comrade, showed us, 
 
 As we bore liim back along 
 
 Tlie coasts he formerly had s;Uled up. 
 
 "An island — called of old, Orlygia — 
 Stretches across the bay Sicanian, 
 In front of billowy Plemmyrium. 
 Fame says that hither Elis' river 
 Ali)heus wrought his hidden way 
 Under the sea's bed, and is now 
 Through thy fountain, Arethiisa, 
 Mixed with the Sicilian waves. 
 To the great local Deities here 
 The reverence prescribed we render; 
 Then leave behind the soil enriched 
 By the o'erflowing of Helorus, 
 And, under the tall precipices 
 Of Pachynus' rocky headland 
 Along coasting, see, far ofT, 
 Camarina, by the Fates 
 Interdicted from all movement. 
 And Gela — so called from its river — 
 Wild Gela, and the plains Geloan. 
 Steep Acragas, the breeder once 
 
iir. 140 
 
 Of generous horses, tlien displays 
 
 In the distance its vast ramparts. 
 
 Thee too, with a fair wind, we leave, 
 
 Pahny Sehnus, and scud on 
 
 Over the difTicult Lilybeum's 
 
 Reefy waters. Drepanuni's port, 
 
 And joyless shore receive nie then. 
 
 Here, after all my bulTetings 
 
 With the tempestuous sea, I lose, 
 
 Alas! I lose my sire Anchises, 
 
 Solace of all my toils and cares; 
 
 Here thou desertest thy tired son 
 
 best of sires, alas! in vain 
 
 Snatched from the midst of so great dangers. 
 
 Neither sire Heleniis this g-rief. 
 
 Though many a horror he predicted, 
 
 Nor dire Celeno ever t(')ld me. 
 
 This was the last of all my troubles, 
 
 The goal of my long travels this. 
 
 When 1 departed thence, a God 
 
 Landed me here on your sea-bord." 
 
 So, while all listened, sire Eneas 
 
 Related the divine ordainments, 
 
 And his tnivels' history tohl; 
 
 And here at last came t<) an 6m\, 
 
 And ceased alike from word and /ictioiL 
 
IV. 
 
 Jjut all this long- while the Queen 's sorely fretting-, 
 
 The poison of the wound works in her veins, 
 
 A slow and smouldering fire wastes her away; 
 
 Oft to her mind reciirs how excellent 
 
 The man himself, honored how much the nation; 
 
 His looks and words adhere fixed in her breast. 
 
 Nor to her frame aUows care placid sleep. 
 
 Morrow's Aurora had from heaven removed 
 The hiimid shadow, and with lamp Phoebean 
 Was surveying- the earth, when, sick at heart, 
 She thiis accosts her soul -according- sisler: — 
 "0 sister Ann, what terrifying- visions 
 Distract and fill me with anxiety! 
 What new -sort g-uest this, to our seats arrived! 
 How dignified the expression of his face! 
 How strong- and stalwart are his chest and arms ! 
 1 think, nor vain the thought, he 's of the G(')ds' race. 
 For timorous ever is the low-born mind. 
 Alas, by what fates he was tossed about! 
 What wars fought to the dregs he sang! Were 't not 
 My mind's fixed ;ind imnuitable res()lve 
 No more with any (Uie in marriage bond 
 To associate me, since of my first attachment 
 
IV. 151 
 
 1 was by Death so cheated and beguiled — 
 
 With litter tedium turned 1 not from wedlock, 
 
 I might perhaps to this one fault succumb. 
 
 Anna — for I '11 confess it — since the time 
 
 My spouse Sicheus met his wretclied fate, 
 
 And the Penates with a fratricide 
 
 Were sprinkled, this man sole my resohition 
 
 Hath made to totter, and my feelings biassed: 
 
 1 know the marks of the old familiar flame. 
 
 But rather let the yawning earth ingulf me, 
 
 Or with his thunder the omnipotent Sire 
 
 To the shades hiirl me — Erebus' pale shades, 
 
 And night profound — than that, Modesty, 
 
 I violate thee or sin against thy laws. 
 
 lie that lirst joined me ti) him bore away 
 
 My loves at his departure; let the same 
 
 Still have, and in his sepulchre preserve, them." 
 
 She said; and filled with giishing tears her bosom. 
 
 Anna replies: — • "0 thou, than light more dear 
 Unto thy sister, shalt thou lonely pine. 
 And waste away in celibate perpetual, 
 Nor children sweet, nor Venus' guerdons know? 
 The cinders, tr(3west thou, or sepulchred Manes 
 Have that care? (Jrant, no suitors erst thy sick 
 Desponding mind have influenced, in Libya 
 Or previous Tyre; larbas w^as despised, 
 And triumph-teeming Afric's other chiefs; '^ 
 
 Miist thou light therefore even with a love that pleases? 
 Bethink'st thee n(')t in whose lields thou hast settled? 
 How hem thee in on this side tlie Getdlian 
 Cities and tribes invincil)le in war. 
 The bitless Numid and waste kindless Syrtes; 
 
IV. 
 
 On that the thirsty desert, and Barcei 
 
 Maraudhig wide? see'st thou no wars in Tyre's 
 
 Horizon rising-, hear'st no brother's threats? 
 
 With Jiino's auspices and favoring- Godhead, 
 
 1 doubt not, have the llian vessels held 
 
 Their hither course: sister, -what a city 
 
 Shalt thou behold this ! -what a kingdom see 
 
 Rise out of such a marriage! Companied 
 
 By Teiicrian arms to what vast heights shall reach 
 
 The Piinic glory: only thou the Gods' grace 
 
 Beg- diily and obtain with sacrifice; 
 
 Then give thy hospitality free scope, 
 
 And with excuse upon excuse delay him: 
 
 Ships crazy — stormy sea — watry Orion — 
 
 In such rough weather who would think of sailing?" 
 
 Her love- sick mind with these words she inflamed 
 And blew to kindling-, and in the place of doubt 
 Put firm hope, and turned mcjdesty adrift. 
 First to the fanes they g-6, and midst the altars 
 Seek grace with wonted offerings of select 
 Second -year sheep to Legislative Ceres, 
 Phoebus and sire Lyeus; above all 
 To Jiino, patroness of marriage bonds. 
 Out of a patera, in her right hand held, 
 Herself, most lovely Dido, pours the wine 
 Between the two horns of a bright \yhite cow, 
 Or in the midst of the fat altars paces 
 Before the present Gods, and solemnising^ 
 The (lay with (ilTerings, and re-S()lemnising-, 
 Intent i)ores (Hi the bt^stial's (jpened br(iasts. 
 And c(junsel asks of the still breathing- (intrails. 
 Ah, little knew the soothsayers! v(jws what lise, 
 
IV. 153 
 
 What vise are temples to her in her frenzy? 
 
 The flame eats her soft marrow all the while, 
 
 The voiceless wound beneath her bosom rankles. 
 
 Stiing- to a fiiry, hapless Dido speeds 
 
 Errant and aimless o'er the total city: 
 
 Through the Dictean woods and bosky glades 
 
 So flees ahead the hind that shepherd's arrow 
 
 Hath pierced from far mid Cretan woods, unwary. 
 
 And carries in her flank the deadly reed, 
 
 Nor wots the hunter that his shot has taken. 
 
 Now through the forts she leads Eneas with her. 
 
 Shews him the wealth Sidonian, city ready; 
 
 Begins to speak out, stops in the midst of the sentence; 
 
 Now at day's fall reseeks the feast, and crazed 
 
 Intreats to hear once more the Iflan toils. 
 
 Once more hang-s on the lips of the narrator; 
 
 After, wiien all are gone, and in her turn 
 
 The moon goes down, and starset counsels sleep. 
 
 Lone mourning- in the empty house, she leans 
 
 Over the couch where lately he reclined, 
 
 And sees him present still, and hears him speaking-; 
 
 Or charmed with the resemblance to his sire. 
 
 Holds in her lap Ascanius, to beguile, 
 
 If at all possible, the miscreant passion. 
 
 The turrets have ceased* rising-; the young' men, 
 
 Practising- arms; ports are no more prepared, 
 
 Or military bulwarks safe and siire; 
 
 The works hang- interrupted of the hug:e 
 
 And frowning- walls, and engines high as heaven. 
 
 That siich a pest had hold of her, so soon 
 As Jove's dear spouse perceived, and that her passion 
 Before it swept the barrier of fair fame, 
 
154 IV. 
 
 Satiirnia in these words addresses Venus: — 
 
 "Notable praise, indeed, and ample spoils 
 
 Ye carry off, thou and thy son — a great 
 
 And memorable name — by artifice 
 
 Of two divinities if one woman 's conquered; 
 
 Nor so purblind am I as not to see 
 
 That dread of what my capital may yet be 
 
 Makes thee suspicious of high Carthage' homes. 
 
 But what shall be the bound? or to what purpose 
 
 So great contentions? why not rather stiidy 
 
 Peace everlasting by a marriage contract? 
 
 What with thine whole soul thou hast sought is thine: 
 
 Dido 's in love — on fire - — • through all her bones 
 
 The passion rages — let us then this people 
 
 Govern in common, and with auspices 
 
 Equal: let her obey a Phrygian husband. 
 
 And hand the Tyrians o'er in dower to thee." 
 
 To her — for she perceived the speech was feigned 
 With purpose to divert to Libya's coast 
 Th' Italian empire — Venus thus replied: — 
 "Who so insensate to refuse such offer. 
 And choose in preference a war with thee. 
 Might only fortune tread in the steps of the deed? 
 But 1 'm kept vacillating backhand forward, 
 Unable Fate's intention to disc()ver, 
 And whether it be Jove's will to permit 
 The Tyrians and Troy's travellers be blent 
 Into one people, with one connnon cause, 
 One city cnpital : his consort th()u, 
 The privilege thine to try what prayers may (h\: 
 On; I will follow." Royal Jiino then: — 
 "Tlial task be mine; and now — give heed — 1 '11 teach thee 
 
IV. 155 
 
 In few words how to a happy close may best 
 
 Be broug-ht this business: they [)repare to go — 
 
 Eneas and most wretched Dido with him — 
 
 Into the woods to hunt, soon as the beams 
 
 Of rising- Titan have tomorrow's world 
 
 Uncovered. Down up()n them, at the moment 
 
 Of the extremest hiirry of outriders 
 
 To inclose with nets *the brakes where the game pastures 
 
 Among the woods, I '11 pour a blackening storm 
 
 Of hail and rain, and rouse the whole sky with thunder; 
 
 The company, with dim night covered, flee 
 
 On all sides. Dido and the Trojan chief 
 
 Meet in the same cave. 1 '11 be present there, 
 
 And Hymen with me; and, on thy good will 
 
 If I may comit sure, there I '11 join her to him, 
 
 And with a lasting marriage make her his." 
 
 Not loth yields Cytherea the consent 
 
 Required, and smiles at the device ingenious. 
 
 Morn hath arisen meanwhile, and left the ocean; 
 Forth, at the first blaze of the star of day, 
 Pour from the gates the chosen prime of the youth. 
 With nets, and gins, and hunting spears broad- bladed, 
 Rider Massylian, and quick -scented hound. 
 The elite of the Poeni round the palace 
 Await the Queen, who lingers in her chamber; 
 In crimson, and in g()ld caparisoned standing. 
 The mettled charger champs the bit to f()am. 
 At length with a large escort she sets forward, 
 Clad in Sidonian chl;imys with limned border: 
 Of gold her quiver; tied her locks in g<5ld; 
 Golden the cUispings of her purple vest: 
 The Phrygians too set out, and glad liilus, 
 
156 IV. 
 
 And, handsomest of all, Eneas' self, 
 
 Whose coming- joins the two troops into one. 
 
 As when Apollo Xanthus' streams deserting 
 And Lycian winter, to maternal Delos 
 Pays visit, and new stablishes his choirs; 
 And round the altars rise the mingled voices 
 Of Cretan, Dryops and dyed Agathyrse; 
 Himself walks free upon the slopes of Cynthe, 
 Moulding- his flowing- locks, and with soft foliage 
 Binding;, and gold implaiting; on his shoulders 
 The darts clang-; no less lively moved Eneas, 
 No less surpassing: grace beamed from his fecitures. 
 
 When to the lofty mountains they have come 
 And dens impracticable; 16! the wild goats. 
 Driven from the highest of the craggy summits. 
 Run down the steep slopes; in another quarter, 
 Across the open plains, in diisty groups 
 The deer scour fugitive, and quit the mountains. 
 Biit in the valleys' midst the boy Ascanius 
 Joys in his mettled steed, and now past these, 
 Past those now races, and would fain to his vows 
 'Mongst the dull beasts some foaming boar were granted, 
 Or from the mountain came down the tawn lion. 
 
 Begins meanwhile confusion in the sky 
 And a great rumbling; follows hail -and -rain- storm; 
 The Tyrian company, Trojan youths, and Venus' 
 Grandson Dardanian, frighted, various shelter 
 Seek everywhere the fields through; from the mountains 
 Rush rivers; Dido and the Trojan chief 
 Arrive at the same grotto; primal Tellus 
 
IV. 157 
 
 And Jiiiio Pronuba give signal; conscious 
 
 Ether upon the marriage flashes lightnings, 
 
 And from the top o' tli' crag the nymphs cry "woe!" 
 
 That day was of her death first origin, 
 
 First origin of her troubles; recks no longer 
 
 Aitpearances or reputation Dido, 
 
 Nor is 't a stolen amour she meditates now: 
 
 She caLU it wedlock; screens her fault with that name. 
 
 Incontinent through the great Libyan cities 
 Goes Riimor; Riimor speediest of ills: 
 Whose life lies in activity; who gains 
 Vigor by moving on; fear keeps her small 
 At first; but bye and bye she rears herself 
 High toward the air, and walking on the ground 
 Her head amid the clouds pokes. Parent Tellus, 
 In anger at the Gods, they say, produced her, 
 Enceladiis' and Coeus' younger sister. 
 Swift -footed and strong -winged; huge, horrid monster, 
 That counts for every feather on her body, 
 wonderful! a watchful eye beneath, 
 A tongue, a garrulous mouth, a pricked -up ear. 
 By night, no lid to sweet sleep drooped, she flies 
 r th' dark, mid -way betwixt the sky and earth, 
 Whirring; by day sits sentinel on roof-top 
 Or lofty tower, and terrifies great cities, 
 No less of false and slanderous tenacious, 
 Than triith- announcing. She the popular mind 
 WMth manifold discoursings now was filling, 
 Joyous; and fact alike and no -fact bruited: 
 That Trojan -sprung Eneas had arrived, 
 And beauteous Dido deigns to mate to take him; 
 And now the livelong wiirter with each other 
 
158 IV. 
 
 They while awdy in hixury and riot, 
 
 Thoughtless of empires, slaves of a base passion. 
 
 Such import the foul Goddess everywhere 
 
 Spreads among-st men's mouths; then toward king- larbas 
 
 Incontinent her course turns; with her words 
 
 Kindles his spirit, and heaps high his ires. 
 
 He was the son of Amnion by the rape 
 Of the nymph Garamantis, and had raised 
 Through his wide realms a hundred temples hiige 
 To Jupiter, and on a hundred altars 
 Lighted eternal watchfires to the God. 
 Rich was the floor around with blood of cattle , 
 Blooming the doors with variegated wreaths. 
 Fired by the bitter riimor, he is said 
 To have uplifted suppliant hands supine 
 Before the altars, in the holy presence. 
 And thiis besought Jove miich in his distraction: — 
 
 "Almighty Jove, in honor of whom now 
 The Moorish nation, rising from the feast's 
 Embroidered cushions, pours the wine -libation, 
 Behold'st these things? Or, when thou hiirl'st thy thunder, 
 Are there no grounds, sire, wherefore we should shudder, 
 And is the bolt that frights our souls all aimless, 
 Empty the noise in the clouds? A wandering woman 
 Who built in our confines a tiny town 
 On purchased site; to whom we granted leave 
 Our coast to till, and act the petty Queen , 
 Hath spiirncd our proffered wedlock, and ta'en home 
 Eneas to be lord of self and realm; 
 And now yond Paris, with his half- man suite, 
 Chin -stayed Meonian mitre, and moist tresses. 
 
IV. 159 
 
 Enjoys his pldnder; to thy temples we 
 
 Bring- gifts forsooth, and fondle an empty name." 
 
 Him praying- so, and holding' by the altars 
 Th' Ahiiighty heard, and toward the royal -fortress, 
 And lovers, of a better fame forgetful, 
 His eyes turned; then to Mercury thus said, 
 And gave commission: — "Go, son, call the Zephyrs; 
 Glide on thy wings down ; and to the Dardan chief 
 Who now in Tyrian Carthage whiles his time, 
 Regardless of the cities the Fates grant him, 
 Bear through the supple air my words: — 'Not siich 
 Promised him to us his most lovely mother, 
 Nor for such purpose twice from Graian arms 
 Snatched him; but to be who should riile Italia 
 Gravid w^ith empires, roaring- wild with war; 
 Who should perpetuate Teiicer's lofty line, 
 And reign lawgiver o'er the total world. 
 If cold he turns from so g-reat glorious prospect. 
 And will not for himself moil, can a sire 
 Grudge to Ascaniiis the towers of Rome? 
 What makes he? or amidst a hostile nation 
 With what expectance lingers; nor one look 
 Casts toward Ausonian progeny, and fields 
 Lavinian? Let him sail; this is the siim; 
 Of this our messag-e be ambassador." 
 
 'Twas said; and he the mandates of his g-reat sire 
 To obey prepared; and first ties on his feet 
 The golden anklets, which, or over land 
 Or over sea -plain, bear his flight sublime. 
 Swift as the blast; then takes the wand with which 
 From Orcus he evokes the pallid souls, 
 Or to sad Tartarus dismisses down. 
 
160 IV. 
 
 Gives sleep and waking-, and dead eyes unseals. 
 
 By virtue of this wand he marshalled now 
 
 The winds to his will, and with them floated smooth 
 
 The murky clouds across; and now he kens, 
 
 Down as he flies, the summit and steep sides 
 
 Of hard -enduring- Atlas, who the sky 
 
 Props with his crown; x\tlas, wiiose head piniferous 
 
 Black clouds perpetual gird, and winds and rains 
 
 Batter; with snow mantled his shoulders; rivers 
 
 Riish from his ag-ed chin down ; stifT and bristling 
 
 His beard with ice. Here first Cyll cuius stayed 
 
 His even -winged flight; hence toward the waters down 
 
 Filing him precipitous. As flies a bird 
 
 About the shores, the fishy rocks about, 
 
 Low, near the water; so from his maternal 
 
 Grandsire descending, the Cyllenian offspring 
 
 Flew betwixt earth and sky, and cut his way 
 
 Along- the winds, by Libya's sandy coast. 
 
 Soon as his winged soles touched the Libyan kraals, 
 
 Eneas meets his view, houses erecting 
 
 And founding palaces; a sword he wore 
 
 With auburn jasper starred; and from his shoulders 
 
 A cloak, the present of rich Dido, hiing. 
 
 Whose golden woof was by her own hands thrown 
 
 Across a warp of glowing Tyrian piirple: 
 
 In words Uke these immediate he accosts him: — - 
 
 "Thou the foundations of high Carthage lay'st. 
 
 And rear'st uxorious a fair city? ah, 
 
 Forgetful of thy realm and own affairs! 
 
 From bright Olympus sends me down to thee 
 
 Himself the ruler of the Gods, who tiirns 
 
 Earth and the sky with his deity; himself 
 
 Bids bear this message through the supple air: 
 
IV. 101 
 
 What mak'st thou, or with what expectance lingcr'st 
 
 Idle in Libyan kind? If cold tiiou tm-n'st 
 
 From so great, glorious prospect, and moil'st not 
 
 For thine own proper praise, regard Ascanius, 
 
 Regard tliy rising- heir, liopefdi Iiilus; 
 
 To whom are due tlie kingdom of Italia 
 
 And Roman land." So luhing said, Cyllenins 
 
 The mortal vision left abrupt, and far 
 
 Into the thin air vanished from the eyes. 
 
 Eneas at the sight stood dumb and witless; 
 His hair with horror bristled, and the voice 
 Clave to his throat. Astonished at so great 
 Monition and commandment of the Gods, 
 He biirns to flee away, and leave that sweet land. 
 Ah! how proceed? with what accost now dare 
 Come ruund the raging- Oueen? make what exordium? 
 And hither now his supple mind he hurries, 
 Now thither, and toward every side divides; 
 Tries every way, and, vacillating long-, 
 At last thus fixes. xMnestheus and Sergestus 
 And brave Serest he calls, and bids, the fleet 
 In silence fit out; to the shore the crews 
 Down gather; the sea implements prepare; 
 And what the occasion of the move dissemble. 
 Himself meanwhile, since unware excellent Dido, 
 Nor breach of so great love expecteth ought, 
 Will try how best to approach her; which the softest 
 Times for discourse; what the propitious method. 
 To the commander all yield glad obedience, 
 And quick perform the orders. But the Queen — 
 Who may deceive the lover? — fearing- danger, 
 Because there seems to be none, is the first 
 
 u 
 
102 IV. 
 
 To catch an inkling of the intended movement, 
 
 And wares the guile beforehand. The same heartless 
 
 Riimor has set her raging with the news 
 
 Of (Uitfit of the fleet, and preparations 
 
 For sailing. Fiirions, to a frenzy kindled, 
 
 She Ijacch'nals through th' whole city, like a Tli\ias 
 
 Whom the return of the triennial orgies 
 
 (joads to delirium, when the sacred st(»res 
 
 Are all put into movement, and at nii^ht 
 
 Citheron 's vocal with the shout of "Bacchus!" 
 
 At last, of her own motion, she acc(')Sts 
 
 Eneas thus: — "And hast thou h6pe<l, perfidious. 
 
 Thou might'st so great enormity dissemble, 
 
 And, not one word said, from my land depart? 
 
 Our love — thy plighted right hand — not detains thee; 
 
 Nor Dido left to die a criiel death? 
 
 Aye! thou must even beneath the stars of winter 
 
 Rig out thy fleet; nuist hurry to the high -deep 
 
 Even in the North wind's teeth, thou cruel! What? 
 
 If ancient Troy were stiinding, and 'twas not 
 
 For homes unknown and foreign lands thou saifdst, 
 
 Would'st thou for Troy sail cross the billowy sea -plain? 
 
 Is't me thou flee'st? By these tears and thy right hand 
 
 (Myself have left my wretched self nought else) — 
 
 By our connubials — by our undertaken 
 
 Marriage — if aught of thee 1 have deserved well — 
 
 If aught of mine was ever to thee dear — 
 
 Take pity on a falling house, 1 pray 
 
 (if prayers may yet avail), and do that mind oil*. 
 
 Because of thee the Libyan nations hate me, 
 
 And Nomad Kings; because of thee, in choler 
 
 The Tyrians; through the means of the same thee 
 
 Extinct my modesty, and (only path 
 
IV. 103 
 
 Which led me toward the stars) iny former fame. 
 
 To whom desiirt'st me in my dying need, 
 
 Guest, since the name of spouse tlioii know'st no longer? 
 
 Why prolong life? Is it until my brotlier 
 
 Pygmalion overturn my city's ramparts, 
 
 Or the Getule laibas lead me captive? 
 
 Had I but had of thee, before thy flight, 
 
 Some progeny; played biit in my pavilion 
 
 Some little Eneas, not resembling thee 
 
 Except in features, 1 should not, methinks, 
 
 So wholly overraught seem and deserted." 
 
 She said. He, of Jove's admonition mindful. 
 His eyelights held unmoved, and struggling pressed 
 Down to his heart the care; then answered brief: — 
 "Never shall 1 deny, Queen, that great 
 Are thy deserts toward me as thou canst find 
 Words to express; nor ever aught but joy 
 Shall the remembrance of Eiisa bring me, 
 So long as 1 hold memory of myself. 
 So long as o'er these limbs the spirit rules. 
 Few words the case requires ; I never hoped 
 (Invent it not) to hide a stealthy flight; 
 Of spousal torch I never made profession, 
 Nor to a compact of that kind was party. 
 1 , if the fates permitted me to live 
 Self -governed, and make settlement of my cares 
 As i might choose, w^ould pay my first attc'ntions 
 To the sweet relics of my Trojan home; 
 Priam's high dwelling should have permanence, 
 And I would rebuild Perganuis bu' the C('>nquered. 
 But now to great Italia the (irynean 
 Apollo bids betake me, to Ibilia 
 
 a* 
 
164 IV. 
 
 The Lycian fate -lots; there then is my love, 
 
 My country there. If Carthui^e' citadels, 
 
 This Libyan city's smile, have charms for thee, 
 
 For thee Phoenician, wherefore to us Tedcrians 
 
 Gj'udgest a settlement in the Ausonian land? 
 
 Ours the same right as thine to seek far kingdoms. 
 
 Me, oft as night with hiimid shade the earth 
 
 Covers, oft as the fiery stars arise, 
 
 The troubled ima^e of my sire Anchises 
 
 Admonishes in dreams and terrifies; 
 
 Me monishes my son Ascanius' wr6ng\ 
 
 Whose dear self 1 defraud of the Hesjiei'ian 
 
 Realm, and the kinds pronounced by f;ite his own. 
 
 Even now the Gods' ambassador, despatched 
 
 From Jove himself — witness be both our heads — 
 
 Bore through the supple air his mandates down; 
 
 Myself beheld the God in manifest light 
 
 Entering- the walls, heard with these ears his voice. 
 
 Cease with thy plaints to inflame both me and thee: 
 
 Not of my free will 1 pursue Italia. " 
 
 Him, as he speaks, she long- time views askance, 
 Rolling- her eyeballs liitherward and thitlier. 
 And with her silent eyeglance scans all over; 
 Then thiis, inflamed, speaks out: — "Nor Goddess -parent, 
 Nor Dardanus author of thy race had'st thou, 
 Traitor; but horrid, hard- rocked Caucasus 
 Bcg-at thee, and llyrcanian tigresses 
 Held thee their dugs. For — why should 1 dissemble? 
 Reserve me for what worse? — at my lament 
 Groaned he? bent he his eyeglance down? or, softened, 
 A tear shed, or took pity on the lover? 
 What shall I g^rcater outrage call, what less? 
 
TV. 1G5 
 
 Certain noi" i^rcatest Jiino, nor tlio sire 
 
 Satiirnian, on these doings looks approval. 
 
 Nowhere on earth can conlidence be i>laccd: 
 
 Shipwrecked, in need, I took him in, and made him, 
 
 Fool that I was! the partner of my kingdom; 
 
 Restored his lost fleet, saved his crews from deatli. 
 
 Hah! Furies fire — transport me. Now it is 
 
 Augur Apollo; Lycian fate- lots now; 
 
 Now bears the horrid mandate through the air 
 
 The Gods' ambassador, by Jove himself sent. 
 
 A likely labor that for the inmiortals! 
 
 A likely care that to disturb their quiet! 
 
 I hold thee not; thy words refute not; go — 
 
 Set sail for Italy — rush through the waters 
 
 In search of kingdoms — Some hope still is mine. 
 
 That midst the rocks — if not quite impotent 
 
 The Gods' retributive justice — th(ju shalt feel 
 
 Punishment pierce thee, and shalt 6ft invoke 
 
 The name of Dido. With dark smouldering fires 
 
 My memory shall pursue thee, and when death 
 
 Hath coldly separated soul and body, 
 
 My spectre haunt thee wheresoe'er thou goest — 
 
 Wretch, thou shalt have thy meed; and I shall hear, 
 
 And the news welcome in the infernal Manes." 
 
 With these words breaking off, she turned away, 
 
 And filing her out of sight, and fled the light, 
 
 Sicked; and there left him hesitant, and afj-aid 
 
 To speak the words that to his tongue were ci'owding. 
 
 Her maidens h(3r collapsed limbs in their arms 
 
 Receive, and to her m;irbled bedchaml)er 
 
 Bear, and [)lace on the C()uch. But kind Eneas, 
 
 Tliough great l)e his desire her grief to soothe, 
 
 And her cares turn away with words of comfort, 
 
 Yet executes — not without many a groan, 
 
166 IV. 
 
 And lovesick wavering of resolution — 
 
 The Gods' hest, and his fleet visits once more. 
 
 Then, then indeed, the Teiicrians ply the work, 
 And over the whole sea-bord the tall ships 
 Draw down, and with hulls new- tarred set afloat; 
 And in their zeal for flight bring from the woods 
 Uncarpentered timber with the leaves and brandies. 
 Thou might'st behold them migrating, and forth 
 From the whole city rushing: as when emmets, 
 Mindful of winter, plunder a huge, corn -heap, 
 And lip in store lay; o'er the plain they go, 
 A black troop , and along the narrow path 
 The booty through the grass bear to one centre; 
 Some, with the whc)le strength of their shoulders struggling, 
 Piish the great pickles forward, others keep 
 The troop together, and chastise delay. 
 Every path 's hot with work, ^yhat felt'st Ihou then, 
 Dido, that sight beh(5lding? tliine what groans 
 When, out of thine high castle, thou hadst prospect 
 Of the wide shore round in one bustling ferment, 
 And saw'st before thine eyes there that commotion, 
 That mighty shouting over the whole sea- plain. 
 caitiff Love, to what compeil'st thou not 
 Poor mortals' breasts! To tears she is forced once more; 
 Once more to try the power of prayers, and humbly 
 To love submit her spirit, that in vain 
 She die not, while resource remains untried: — 
 
 "Anna, see'st over the wiiole shore what hastening? 
 From every quarter round they have come together; 
 The lint-slieet calls the breezes, and already 
 The joyful sailors on the p(3o])S have placed 
 The coronals. As sure as 1 have had 
 
IV. 107 
 
 Strengtli to anticipate this wcig^Iit of sorrow, . 
 
 So surely, sister, I 'II liiid strength to bear it. 
 
 Yet for nie miserable this one thing' 
 
 Do, Anna; for to thee alone that traitor 
 
 Pays court, thou only hast his coniidence, 
 
 Know'st his soft times, and how best to approach him. 
 
 Go, sister; to the proud foe, suppliant say: — 
 
 '1 never with the Danai" at Aiilis 
 
 Conspired the Trojan nation to extirpate; 
 
 Never sent fleet to Perganuis, or tore 
 
 The sire Anchises' cinders from the tomb; 
 
 Into his hard ears why my words admit not? 
 
 Whither so hasty? On a wretched lover 
 
 Let him bestow this last grace; let him wait 
 
 Till a fair wind facilitates his flight. 
 
 'Tis not that ancient w^edlock he played false to, 
 
 I now beg; or that his fair Latian realm 
 
 He should renounce; mere time I ask; some space 
 
 To let subside my passion, and the lesson 
 
 Of resignation It-arn from my misioi'tunes. 
 
 Pity thy sister begging this last grace, 
 
 Which when he luith accorded me, I '11 s;i\e 
 
 Trouble no longer; more than dead, though living/ 
 
 Siich were her prayers, her tears; conveyed to him 
 And reconveyed by her most ^yretched sister; 
 But he is by no tears moved , by no words 
 Persuaded; the fates hinder; and the God 
 Obstructs his placid hearing; and as when 
 Boreases Alpine strive wiiose blasts shall first 
 O'erlhrow an oak, by many a year stout -timbered, 
 And now from this side whistling- thrcjugh the branches, 
 And now from that, the ground strew deep with leaves, 
 
im IV. 
 
 And shake the triink, which yet cUngs fmn to the cUff 
 
 With root that down toward T;irtarns as far 
 
 Stretches, as toward the ethereal air its top: 
 
 So on the hero beat the assiduous voice 
 
 On either side; so care his great breast tlirilled: 
 
 Unalterable stands his resolution, 
 
 And tears (alas, what lise!) roll down his cheeks. 
 
 'Tis then indeed that, at the fates dismayed, 
 Unhappy Dido prays for death; heaven's convex 
 Beholds with weariness. More to persuade her 
 To execute her purpose, and the light leave, 
 She saw, when on the incense- burning altars 
 Placing- her offerings, (horrible to tell!) 
 The sacred liquors blacken, and the poured wines 
 Turn into gore obscene; this sight to none, 
 Not even to her sister's self she told. 
 Further; there was beneath her roof a chapel 
 Of marble, to her former hiisband sacred, 
 Much honored object of her special care, 
 With festal frond and snow-white fleecy fillet 
 Garlanded; hence her spouse's voice she thought 
 She heard articulate calling, when dark night 
 Covered the earth, and his funereal dirge 
 The moping owl upon the rooftop chanted; 
 And plained and plained in long-drawn notes of woe. 
 Many predictions too of pious seers 
 Harrow her soul with terrible monition. 
 Himself, sav/ige Eneas, in her dreams 
 Pursues, to madness drives her; evermore 
 She seems to be alone left; evermore 
 To travel a long road uncompanied, 
 And seek her Tyrians in a desert land: 
 
IV. 1G9 
 
 As wlien crazed Pcnthciis the Eumenides' bunds 
 Sees, and the two suns, and a double Thebes; 
 Or as when, on the tragic stag-e, Orest 
 Aganicmnonian flees l)ef6re the firebrands 
 And lurid snakes of his pursuing- mother. 
 And in the doorway sit the avenging Dirae. 
 
 So when at last by anguish overcome, 
 Possessed by furies, she resolves to die; 
 The time and manner with herself she fixes; 
 Then under clear brow and a look of hope 
 Hiding her purpose, thus her sorrowing sister 
 Addresses: — ■ "Sister, I have found a way, 
 (Congratulate thy sister) which shall either 
 Bring me my lover back, or free me from him. 
 On the confines of ocean, nigh the sunset. 
 The Ethiopians' utmost dwelling lies, 
 Where on his shoulder greatest Atlas spins 
 The axis stiidded bright with burning stars. 
 A priestess thence of the Massylian tribe 
 They have shown to me; the same that was caretaker 
 Of the Hesperides' fane, and used to keep 
 The sacred boughs intact upon the tree 
 By means of a dragon whom she coaxed to stay near 
 By sprinkling dainty honey on his food. 
 And the sweet seed of the somniferous poppy. 
 The same professes incantations potent 
 To ease the heart of trouble, and to load 
 With heavy cares whatever heart she will, 
 To stop the flowing rivers, tiirn the stars back, 
 Raise the nocturnal Manes: thou shalt see 
 The ash come down the mountain; hear the ground 
 Bellow beneath thy feet. 1 call to witness 
 
170 IV. 
 
 The Gods, and thee, and thy sweet head, dear sister, 
 
 Against rny will I put the magic art on; 
 
 Be secret thou, and in the interior court 
 
 Erect a pyre; and let them on it place 
 
 The arms which the coldhearted man left hanging 
 
 In my bedchamber; with whatever else 
 
 Belonged to him; and the connubial bed 
 
 Whereon I perished: 'tis some satisfaction 
 
 All the memorials of th' iniquitous man 
 
 To abolish; and the priestess so directs." 
 
 These words said, she was silent; and her face 
 
 Grew sudden pale: yet Anna, that her sister 
 
 With these new rites masks death's preparative. 
 
 Not dreams, nor has a notion of such fiiry. 
 
 Nor consequence aught g-raver apprehends 
 
 Than at Sicheus' death; so does her bidding-. 
 
 Now has the Queen within the inmost court 
 A pyre erected hiige, of holm-oak billet 
 And torch -pine, and the place with flower- festoon 
 Hung- round and chaplet of funereal leaf: 
 And, knowdng well what is about to be, 
 The couch places on top, and on the couch 
 His effigy, the sword he left behind. 
 And whate'er else was his; around stand altars; 
 And with dishevelled hair and voice of thunder 
 The priestess thrice the hundred Gods invokes, 
 And Erebus, and Chaos, and the three 
 Faces of Virgin Dian, triple Hecate. 
 Aspersion she had made too, with factitious 
 Avernus' water, and had sought for herbs 
 Downy and black-bane juiced, and reaped by uioonlight 
 With brazen sickle; sought too the love -philtre. 
 
IV. 171 
 
 Torn (ere the dam's tooth could lay hold on it) 
 From the just- born colt's forehead. In ungirt 
 Vestment, herself, and with one foot unshod, 
 And in devotional hands the saltmeal holding, 
 Beside the altars, calls, from the edge of death, 
 The Gods to bear her witness, and the stars 
 That see her fate, and if there be a power 
 Has cognisance of unrequited love, 
 Implores that rig-hteous, that remembering power. 
 
 'Twas night, and every weary frame on earth 
 Was sound asleep: the forests were at rest, 
 And the fell seas; the stars in mid course g-ltding: 
 Hiished were the fields, and flocks, and painted birds. 
 And far and wide the liquid lake's indwellers, 
 And every tenant of the bosk and brake, 
 In slumber's arms at the dead hour of night 
 Soothed their heart- sorrows, and their toils forgot: 
 But no sleep, no forgetfulness, no night 
 Wretched Phoenissa on her eyes receives 
 Or in her breast; redoubling- come her cares; 
 Again love rises in his might and fierceness, 
 Again in a great siirf of ire she fluctuates. 
 Insisting thiis and with herself revolving: — 
 *'Well! wiiat to do? Mocked thiis, my former suitors 
 Shall I again try and a Nomad marriage. 
 And siippUant woo whom I so 6ft have spurned? — 
 ■ Then let me to the Ilian fleet betake me, 
 The Teiicrians' humblest, most obedient servant: 
 Because forsooth the former aid I gave them, 
 So steads me now? such mighty gratitude theirs 
 For my past services? But grant, I would; 
 Who will permit me? Into their proud ships 
 
172 IV. 
 
 Who will receive me hateful? xVh! thou lost one, 
 
 Not yet knowst, feelst not yet the perjuries 
 
 Of the Laomedon tribe? What then? in sole 
 
 And secret flight shall I accompany 
 
 The exulting- sailors? or bear down upon them, 
 
 By all my Tyrian soldiery escorted; 
 
 And drive to sea, and bid set sail again, 
 
 Those whom I scarce could tear from Sidon city. 
 
 Nay, but avert pain with the knife, and die 
 
 As thou hast merited. Thou, sister, thcki first, 
 
 To my tears yielding, threw'st me to the foe, 
 
 And heap'dst my madness with this load of trouble. 
 
 I had riot leave to lead a single life, 
 
 And, coy as forest wilding, keep me clear 
 
 Of matrimonial couch and cares like these; 
 
 I 've broke the troth pledged to Sicheus' cinders." 
 
 Siich was the great wail into which she biirst. 
 
 Siire of his journey, and all things prepared, 
 Eneas now on the high stern was sleeping, 
 When, in a dream, the God -form with same look 
 Presents itself returning, and again 
 Seems to admonish; like, in all respects. 
 To Mercury; face, color, golden locks. 
 And youthful limbs decorous: — "Canst thou then, 
 Goddess -born, in siich conjuncture sleep. 
 And not perceive what consequent risks surround thee. 
 Madman! nor hear'st the zei)hyrs blowing fair? 
 Biisy is her breast with a work of guile 
 And dire ini(|uity, and fixed to die 
 She fluctuates in a changeful siirf of ;inger. 
 Fleest thou not Ikmicc precipitate, whilst llec 
 Precipitate thou mayst? All in commotion 
 
IV. 173 
 
 The sea with ships and the stern firebrancFs glare, 
 
 Ahve the shore with flames, thou slialt behold, 
 
 If morn but touch tliee in these kinds delaying. 
 
 Away, away, this instant: various ever 
 
 And mutable is woman." S() he said. 
 
 And with the dark night mingled. Then indeed 
 
 Eneas, at the sudden apparition 
 
 Terrified, starts from sleep, and his companions 
 
 Worries: — "Awiike, men, instant, and in all haste 
 
 Take your seats on the row-bench; loose the sails quick. 
 
 A God, despatched from the high ether, spiirs us, 
 
 Behold! a second time, to speed our flight, 
 
 And ciit the twisted cables. Thee we follow, 
 
 holy deity, whoe'er thou art; 
 
 A second time thine orders we obey 
 
 With joyous exultation. Grant us thou 
 
 Thy presence and serene aid, and stars rising 
 
 Propitious in the sky." He said, and forth 
 
 Snatched from the sheath the lightning blade, and smote 
 
 With the bare steel the hawser. The same ardor 
 
 At once possesses all; they rap and riish, 
 
 And have the shores deserted; the fleet hides 
 
 View of the sea -plain: with stout- tiigging arms 
 
 They whirl the foam, and the cerulean sweep. 
 
 And now leaving Tithonus' saffron couch, 
 Aurora prime the earth with new light sprinkled; 
 The Queen — when from high look-out she beheld 
 The first grey dawn, and with squared sails the fleet 
 On -moving; and the empty sh(3re perceived, 
 And rowerless port — her lovely breast three times. 
 And four times smote, and tore her auburn hair: — 
 "He will go then, by Jupiter," she cried, 
 
174 IV. 
 
 "This interloper! Jifter he has made 
 
 Me and my realms his sport! Why dont they arm 
 
 All through the city's breadth: why don't they tear 
 
 The vessels from the docks down, and pm'siie? 
 
 Go, get the flames quick; weapons here; row, row; — 
 
 What say I? or where am 1? or what madness 
 
 My brain turns? Hapless Bido, tcnich thee now 
 
 Thy heartless doings? The fit time was then, 
 
 Wlien thou didst sceptre him. Behold how he, 
 
 Who, they say, bears wath him his fatherland's 
 
 Penates — he, who on his shoulders carried 
 
 His age-worn sire — • his faith keeps, and pledged right-hand. 
 
 Could I not take and tear his body piecemeal. 
 
 And scatter it to the waters? his companions — 
 
 Ascanius' self could 1 not stab to death, 
 
 And cook and serve up to the father's table? 
 
 Biit the fight's fortune had been doubtful — Had it. 
 
 Of whom was 1, so soon to die, afraid? 
 
 Firebrands and flames into his armament — 
 
 Bito the midst of his decks — 1 would have borne; 
 
 Would have exterminated son, sire, race; 
 
 And last, myself into the ruin filing. 
 
 sun, whose eye of flame beholdest all 
 
 That 's done in the whole world — and thou, Jdiu">, 
 
 That know'st my siifl'crings well, being thyself 
 
 Agent of their infliction — and thou, Hecate, 
 
 To whom the cross -ways of the cities raise 
 
 The midnight cry — and ye, avenging Birae, 
 
 And Gods of dying Elisa — hear my prayer, 
 
 hear, and let the merited retribution 
 
 Pursue the culprit: if 't be necessary 
 
 That the arch- criminal should voynge safe, 
 
 And reach port, and Jove's Fates will luive it so, 
 
IV. 175 
 
 And tliis .1 terminus may not be moved; 
 
 Let him at least by the belligerent arms 
 
 Of a bold people harassed — from his confines 
 
 Expatri/ite — torn from Idlus' embrace — 
 
 For help beg', and behold his followers 
 
 Dishonored die; nor when he hath submitted 
 
 To terms of peace disadvantageous, let him 
 
 Enj()y his sceptre, or that wished- for day; 
 
 But premature fall, and unl)uried lie 
 
 In the sands' midst: my prayer this; w^ith my blood 
 
 I p()ur these last words forth: and ye, Tyrians, 
 
 Plague and detest the whole stock, root and branch; 
 
 Be that the present ye shall send our cinders. 
 
 Betwixt the peoples let there be no love, 
 
 No league. Out of my bones arise, avenger, 
 
 That shalt the Dardan colonists pursue 
 
 With fire and sword; now, later, whensoe'er 
 
 Thou mayst and canst. Opposed — my prayer and ciirse is — 
 
 Be shores to shores, to waves waves, arms to arms; 
 
 Selves, sons, and sons' sons, combatant for ever." 
 
 She says; and casts o'er in her mind on all sides. 
 How from the hated light to break away 
 Soonest: then briefly thiis addresses Barce, 
 Sicheus' niirse, for in old sire -land lay 
 Her own nurse, a black cinder: — "Hither, niirse dear. 
 Send me my sister Anna: let her quickly 
 Sprinkle her with the stream's lymph, and bring with her 
 The atonements from the flock that have been shown her. 
 And thou thyself with pious fillet vail 
 Thy temples; my intention is, to perfect 
 Those sacred rites 1 have commenced in h(>nor 
 Of Stygian Jove; and end my cares, by giving 
 
176 IV. 
 
 The pyre of th;it Dardanian to the flames." 
 She said; and zealously the aged niirse 
 Makes siich speed as she can. 
 
 But Dido — fluttered 
 With her wild darings — in a savage transport — 
 With bloodshot rolling eyes, and tremulous cheeks 
 Spotted with hectic, paled by deatli's nigh view — 
 into th' interior precincts bursts, and furious 
 Mounts the high pyre, and bares — not for such lise 
 Had she obtained that gift — the Dardan sword: 
 But when the IJian vestments met her view. 
 And the known bed, a httle while in tears 
 And thought she lingered, leaning on the bed, 
 And these, her last words, uttering: — "Sweet remains, — 
 For sweet ye 'were while heaven and fate permitted, — 
 Receive this soul, and free me from these cares: 
 I 've lived; 1 've riin the race that fortune set me; 
 And great 's the image of me that shall now 
 Beneath the earth go; 1 've a noble city 
 Founded; seen my own battlements rise round me; 
 Avenged my spouse; punished my hostile brother; 
 Happy, alas! too happy, if but only 
 A Dardan keel had never touched our shores." 
 
 She said; and with a kiss the couch impressing: — 
 "Though 1 die unavenged, 1 '11 die," she says; 
 "My downward journey, so — aye, so, precisely — 
 Becomes a pleasure; let the cruel Dardan 
 Gaze from the high- deep on these flames, and with him 
 My death take for the omen of his voyage." 
 She said, and while she yet spake the attendants 
 Behold her sink stabbed; the sword reeking blood, 
 
IV. 177 
 
 Her hands flung- powerless from her. To the hall's heights 
 
 The shout goes; the report runs bacchanal, 
 
 Shaking' the city; with lament and groan 
 
 And woman's cries the houses are in liproar; 
 
 Loud rings the ether with the g-reat hand -clappings, 
 
 Breast- smitings: just as if the foe had rushed in, 
 
 And Ccirlhage all, or ancient Tyre were falling, 
 
 And o'er the highest t()ps of human dwellings 
 
 And of divine, the raging flames were rolling. 
 
 The sister hears — more like a corpse than living — 
 
 And through the midst runs — rushes — in dismay 
 
 And trepidation, smiting on hei: breast. 
 
 Tearing her face, and on the dying calling 
 
 By name: — ''And was 't for this then, sister? me 
 
 Sought'st thou to overreach? was 't this, this pyre, 
 
 These fires, these altars were preparing for me? 
 
 What shall I most complain of, I forlorn. 
 
 Spurned and deserted by my dying sister? 
 
 Thou shouldst have had my company, have called me 
 
 To the same fate; with one death -wound we twain, 
 
 And at the self same moment, should have perished: 
 
 Biiilt I it with these hands for thee? for thee 
 
 Invoked I \i(ith this voice our country's Gods, 
 
 Then, criiel, from thee stretched here, staid away? 
 
 Thou 'st ruined, sister, both thyself and me, 
 
 People, and sires Sidonian, and tliy city. 
 
 Give water here, and let me wash her wounds. 
 
 And her last Ijreath, if any hist breath still 
 
 Hovers about her, gather with my mouth.'" 
 
 So saying she had scaled the lofty steps. 
 And her half lifeless sister in her b()Som's 
 Embrace was holding cuddled, groaning nnich, 
 
 12 
 
178 IV. 
 
 And drying' with her garment the black gore; 
 
 But she, lier heavy eyes to Uft endeavoring, 
 
 Again faints; grides beneath her breast the infixed wound: 
 
 Thrice, on her elbow leaned, she raised herself; 
 
 Thrice on the couch fell back; with wandering eyes 
 
 Sought high heaven's Hght, and, having found it, groaned. 
 
 Omnipotent Jiino then, her long pain pitying 
 And difficult departure, from Olympus 
 Sent Iris down to free the struggling srjul, 
 And the knit limbs relax; for as 'twas neither 
 By fate she perished, nor her own deserving, 
 But premature and wretched, in a sudden 
 Kindling of fury, Proserpine had not 
 The auburn lock disparted from her crown, 
 jN'or to the Stygian Orcus doomed her yet. 
 Down therefore through the sky on saffron pinions 
 Flies dewy Iris, thousand various tints 
 Borrowing from th' opposite sun; and standing nigh. 
 Over her head: — "This consecrate to Dis 
 I bear as bid, and from that body free thee," 
 She says, and shears the lock; and life away 
 Fled to the winds, and cold became the bodip. 
 
V. 
 
 In the meantime through waves that with northwinds were biackenin 
 
 Eneas determined was cutting- his way, 
 
 Back casting liis h:)ok on tlie towers which ah'eady 
 
 Are all lit up with hapless Elisa's pyre -flames. 
 
 Though hidden the cause of so g-reat conflagration, 
 A presentiment sad thrills the breasts of the Teucri, 
 When they think, of a luve- cross how bitter the pangs are, 
 And what a vexed woman can do in her fury. 
 
 And now that the vessels are out on the wide sea, 
 And land is nowhere any more to be seen, 
 But everywhere round them the sea and the sky; 
 Bight over his head hangs a livid cloud lowering, 
 With night charged and tempest; and into dark wrinkles 
 The sea -surface ciirls; and thus Paliniirns 
 The steersman himself, from the lieigiil of the poop: — 
 "Ah! what art thou at, father Neptune, and wherefore 
 Encompass such stdrmclouds the ether about?" 
 
 12* 
 
180 V. 
 
 This said, he commands them 
 To gather tlieir oars up, 
 And with might and main row; 
 Sets the sails at a tack, 
 And to this effect si^eaks: — 
 "Magnanimous Eneas, 
 1 would not beheve 
 Even Jupiter's self, 
 That with sky such as this 
 We could still make Italia; 
 The air to mist thickens; 
 The winds have changed r|uarter, 
 And, in their might rising 
 From the overcast siinset, 
 Roar right thwart our course; 
 Nor with all our endeavor 
 Can we hold our direction, 
 Or make head against them. 
 Since Fortune 's victorious, 
 Come, let 's follow Fortune, 
 And tiirn at her call; 
 Nor far distant hence 
 Are the safe shores, I ween. 
 Of brotherly Eryx, 
 And the harbour Sicanian, 
 If only my memory 
 Plays me no false trick, 
 As I count my course back 
 By my notes of the stars.'* 
 
 Then gentle Eneas: — 
 "I too observe siirely 
 The winds are this long time 
 
V. 181 
 
 Determined iipiui it, 
 
 And ;dl to no pdrpose 
 
 Against thcni thou strivest. 
 
 Tack about; could there land 
 
 To nie be more g-niteful, 
 
 Or to which with my tired ships 
 
 I 'd more gladly run down, 
 
 Than that land which preserves for me 
 
 Dardan Acestes; 
 
 Than that land which holds lapped 
 
 In its bosom the bones 
 
 Of my father Anchises?" 
 
 When thiis he had said, 
 They uiake for port straight: 
 Fair zephyrs the sails stretch, 
 And swiftly the fleet 
 O'er the rolling- flood carry, 
 Till at last to the known sti'and 
 With joy they turn in. 
 
 But from the high hill -top afar, 
 Acestes had observed with wonder 
 The vessels of his friends approaching-, 
 And all bristly o'er with javelins 
 And Libyan bear- skin, comes to meet them; 
 And, for by a Trojan mother 
 He was son of stream Crimisus — 
 And his parents' memory honored — 
 Joyful welcomes their return , 
 And with store of treasures riiral 
 And friendly fulness entertains 
 And solaces their weariness. 
 
182 V. 
 
 As soon as in the early east 
 Bright morn the stars had routed, 
 Eneas from the coast all round 
 Sdnmions his comrades to assembly, 
 And from the tiimukis' mound thus speaks: — 
 ''Mighty Dardanidae, descended 
 From the high blood of the Gods, 
 The year its circle has achieved, 
 And one by one its months completed, 
 Since my divine sire's hist remains 
 Diily in the ground we laid. 
 And consecrated the sad altars; 
 And now, unless 1 err, is come 
 That day which 1 shall ever h(3ld 
 A day of bitterness, shall ever — 
 Your will be done, Gods! — hold honored. 
 Whether 1 pass this day in exile 
 Amid the Syrtes of Getiilia, 
 Or by stress of wind and weather 
 Driven into Mycenae city 
 Out of the Argolic main; 
 Gifts anniversary on this day 
 I '11 carry in procession solenni, 
 And with due offerings heap the altars. 
 So much the more then let us come — 
 Now that we 've entered friendly port, 
 And find ourselves upon the spot, 
 Not, as I think, without the Gods' 
 O'erriiling will and providence, 
 Beside my parent's bones and ashes — 
 Let us all come, and joyfully 
 Celebrate the festal day. 
 And beg the God to grant us winds, 
 
183 
 
 And to cill(')\v lluit ill a temple, 
 To his service dcdicuted, 
 In my city I may otFer 
 Every year a similar honor. 
 To each sliip's crew Troy -born Acestes 
 Makes present of a i)air of beeves. 
 Bring' to the feast your own Penates 
 And those your host Acestes worships. 
 Besides, when the ninth radiant morn 
 Shall raise the standard of boon day, 
 And unveil the globe to mortals, 
 I '11 give the Teiicri a regatta. 
 To commence their games withal. 
 And then let all who are good riinners, 
 And every one whose bold proud step 
 Tells of his skill to speed the dart, 
 Or the light arrow, or whose strength 
 Ventures the gauntlet's crude encounter, 
 Be present and expect the prize 
 That shall reward the conqueror. 
 Lend me your favoring voices all, 
 And bind your brows with foliage." 
 
 He says, and with his mother's myrtle 
 At the same thne veils his temples; 
 So HelyniLis, ripe -aged Acestes, 
 And so does too the boy Ascanius ; 
 The others tlie example follow. 
 Direct from the assemljly then , 
 Amidst a great encircling bevy. 
 He takes his w;iy to the tumulus. 
 Accompanied by many a thousand; 
 There on the ground in due libation 
 
184 V. 
 
 Pours two bowls of unmixed wine, two 
 Of new milk, two of sacred blood, 
 And fling-s bright purpling- flowers and says 
 
 ''Sanctified parent, hail once more! 
 Ashes, soul, and shade paternal, 
 Saved to no purpose, hail! all hail! 
 'Twas not to be, that we should seek 
 Italia's fated fields together, 
 And that unknown Ausonian Tyber; 
 'Twas not to be." 
 
 Scarce had he said, 
 When, trailing forth 
 Out of the deep 
 Interior cell 
 Its sevenfold roll 
 Of seven huge coils, 
 A shmy snake 
 The tdmuliis 
 Benignantly 
 Encompasses , 
 And glides about 
 Amidst the altars. 
 Its scaly back 
 Was all one blaze 
 Of glowing gold 
 With spots of bliie 
 And purple fleckered, 
 Bright as the thousand 
 V^arious hiies 
 Cast in a b()w 
 
185 
 
 Upon the clouds 
 Fronting- the sun. 
 
 In amazement 
 Gazed Eneas, 
 Whilst the serpent, 
 Midst the polished 
 Clips and g-oblets 
 Long- time gliding-, 
 Sipped at last, 
 And after sipping 
 Left the viands 
 And the altars, 
 And innoxious 
 To the tunuilus' 
 Depths returned. 
 
 Doubtful , whether 
 To esteem it 
 A local Genius, 
 Or the attendant 
 Of his sire, 
 He celebrates 
 So much the more 
 The rites begiin 
 In his sire's honor, 
 And, complying- 
 With the custom, 
 Slays two sheep 
 Whose two broad teeth 
 Show two years old; 
 Also two swine 
 And a like number 
 Of black cattle; 
 
186 V. 
 
 And from bowls 
 Pours wine - libation , 
 And invokes 
 The soul and Manes 
 Of g-reat Anchises, 
 From Acheron, 
 On leave, rctdrned. 
 His comrades too, 
 As each has meaws, 
 Bring' gifts with joy. 
 And slaughter steers, 
 And load the altars; 
 And some at ease 
 Stretch on the grass, 
 And some in Qrder 
 Set brass caldrons, 
 Or place live coals 
 Beneath the spits, 
 And roast the flesh. 
 
 And now the steeds of Phaeton brought in 
 The morning of the ninth, the expected day, 
 Serene and bright; and rumor and the name 
 Of famed Acestes had the shores all round 
 Filled with reunion joyful of the neighbours, 
 Tln^onging- to see th' "Encadae, and some 
 Prepared too to compete. The prizes first 
 Arc fiill in view placed in the circus' midst; 
 licligious tripods — coron/ds of green — 
 And p;'dins, the nu'-ed of victory — and ;irms - 
 And vests all crimsoned o'er — aiul gold and silver. 
 Of each a tiilent. Then, from tlie midst of the nu'tund, 
 The triimp proclaims the amiisements have connnenced. 
 
V. 187 
 
 The lirst gi'ime is between 
 Four wcig-lity - oared bottoms, 
 Selected as matches 
 From the whole of the fleet. 
 With his stout rowers Mnestheus 
 Impels the swift Grampus, 
 Mnestheus who soon shall be 
 Mnestheus Italian, 
 First of the race 
 
 That shall call themselves Memmi. 
 With his three complete benches 
 Of rowers Dardanian 
 In triple rows raising- 
 Their oars sinuiltaneous, 
 Forward drives Gyas 
 The huge city- like mass 
 Of unwieldy Chimera. 
 In the great Centaur 
 Is carried Sergestus, 
 From wliom takes its name 
 The family Scrgian; 
 And in blue Scylla, 
 Cloanthus, from whom 
 Thy nice is derived, 
 Roman Cluentius. 
 
 Over against the foaming shore, 
 Far in the sea there is a rock 
 Which, overwhelmed and biifTetted 
 By swelling billows ;it such time 
 As wintry Cori hide the stars, 
 Lifts silently, in time of calm. 
 Over the still and waveless deep, 
 
188 
 
 Its level field, the favorite haunt 
 
 Of the sunshine -loving seaniew. 
 
 Father Eneas here erects 
 
 A verdant goal of leafy ilex, 
 
 Sign to the sailors here to turn, 
 
 And wheel from hence their long course back. 
 
 Their places then they choose by lot; 
 
 Effulgent from the sterns afar 
 
 The captains' selves distinguished shine 
 
 In ornaments of gold and crimson; 
 
 The other young men have their naked, 
 
 Glistening shoulders smeared with oil, 
 
 Their brows with wreaths of poplar shaded. 
 
 On the row -benches seated, 
 Arms stretched to their oars, 
 Hearts pit-a-pat beating-. 
 Exulting and breathless 
 With keen greed of glory, 
 All alive, all attentive, 
 They watch for the signal. 
 Then when the shrill trumpet 
 Its larum has sounded. 
 From the barrier away 
 Without stop or stay 
 They all leap together; 
 Sailors' hurrahs strike ether; 
 Turned lip by the sinewy 
 Tiig- of their arms 
 The sea -surface foams; 
 All alike, all together 
 They plough up, they tcai' up, 
 Tlicy shatter with oars 
 
V. 189 
 
 And with tridented bows 
 
 The whole yawning- sea- plain. 
 
 Less precipitous nishing 
 
 And to the race dashing- 
 
 Pair -in -hand chariots 
 
 Burst from the barrier, 
 
 And scour o'er the plain; 
 
 Less impetus speeds 
 
 The career of the steeds, 
 
 Though the drivers the wavy reins 
 
 Sliake to them loose, 
 
 And over the lash 
 
 Lean their whole bodies forward, 
 
 And hang on each stroke. 
 
 With hand clapping and shout 
 And partisan rout 
 The enclosing- shores round 
 And woodlands resound, 
 And with peals of luirrahs 
 The hills rebound. 
 
 Amidst the crowd and din 
 Foremost scuds away 
 Gyas o'er the waters; 
 Cloanthus, better rower, 
 But by his heavy timbers 
 Retarded, follows after. 
 Centaur then and Grampus, 
 Behind at equal distance, 
 Contend which shall Ije foremost: 
 And now 'tis Grampus has it. 
 And now huge Centaur conquers , 
 And passes Grampus by; 
 
190 V. 
 
 And now with bows abreast 
 They dash along tog-ether. 
 And side by side with lonp; keels 
 Furrow the sea brine. 
 
 And now to the rock 
 They were fast approaching, 
 And jiist at the goal, 
 When foremost, victorious, 
 In the midst of the swell 
 To his steersman Menoetes 
 Thus calls aloud Gyas: — 
 "Whither away to the right so far? 
 Hitherward , hither ; 
 Hiig the shore close, 
 And let youj* oar- blades 
 Graze the rocks on the left; 
 Leave to others the deep." 
 
 He said, but Menoetes, 
 Sunken rocks fearing, 
 Wrests the prow seaward: — 
 "Wliither away stray'st 
 Out of the straight course? 
 For the rocks make, Menoetes." 
 So a second time shouted 
 And called hhn back Gyas, 
 And reverting his look, 
 Lo ! behind him Cloanthus 
 Close pressing upon him 
 And taking the near way. 
 
 Brushing by in the interspace 
 'Twixt the resounding rocks 
 
V. 191 
 
 And the lar-l)oarcl of Gyas, 
 ly a twinkling- Cloanthiis 
 Is out on the sale sea, 
 And behind has left Gyas, 
 Behind left the soal. 
 
 O' 
 
 Then indeed the youth's bones 
 With keen anguish burned, 
 Nor were his cheeks tearless; 
 And of his crew's safety 
 Forgetful no less 
 Than of the respect 
 \\'hich he owed to himself, 
 Headlong into the sea 
 From the high poop he hurled 
 Dull plodding M;enoetes; 
 Himself takes the riidder, 
 Himself becomes steersman, 
 And cheers the crew on, 
 And shoreward the helm turns. 
 
 But, when from the bottom 
 At hist he 's come lip — 
 And not easily either 
 From years and the weight 
 Of his wet dripping garments — 
 Heavy-laden Menoetes 
 Makes for the rock's top. 
 And there on the dry stone 
 Sets himself down. 
 The Teiicri laughed at him 
 Both falling: and swimming, 
 And kiugh at him now 
 
192 
 
 As he spews from his inwards 
 The salt water lip. , 
 
 And now in the two last, 
 Sergestus and Mnestheus, 
 The joyous hope kindles 
 To beat lagging Gyas. 
 Sergestus starts foremost 
 And draws near the rock, 
 But not by the length 
 Of the whole keel foremost; 
 By the steerage he 's foremost. 
 While on him abaft 
 The bow of the Grampus 
 Emulous presses. 
 
 But Mnestheus goes midships 
 And cheers the crew on,. 
 In their very midst pacing : — 
 "Now, now on your oars rise, 
 Brave fellows Hectorian, 
 Whom in Troy's fateful hour 
 I selected as comrades; 
 Now piit forth that vigor, 
 That spirit put forth, 
 Which erewhile ye showed 
 In the Syrtes Getiilian, 
 The Ionian sea. 
 And Malea's pestering 
 Waves pertinacious. 
 I ask not the first place. 
 Nor strive now for conquest, 
 Though gladly had Mnestheus — 
 
V. 193 
 
 But 1 leave those to conquer, 
 To whom tiiou, Neptune, 
 Hast granted tlie conquest; 
 Only let 's not be last, 
 Conquer so far at least, 
 And avert that dishonor — 
 Fellow townsmen, avert 
 That foul, crying- sin." 
 
 With extreme, utmost effort 
 They lean themselves forward; 
 The bronzed vessel trembles 
 Beneath the vast strokes 
 That raise the keel out of 
 And over the water. 
 The thick panting shakes 
 Their limbs and dry mouths; 
 On all sides about them 
 The sweat flows in rivers. 
 
 Mere accident brought them 
 The wished -for honor; 
 For, whilst in a fiiry 
 His prow forcing lip 
 On his rival's lar- board. 
 And for want of room cutting 
 Too close to the rocks. 
 On a jutting reef fast 
 Stuck hapless Sergestus. 
 The crag was concussed, 
 And on the sharp snag 
 The prow, where it struck, 
 
 13 
 
lOA V. 
 
 Hung' suspended, and crack 
 Went the oars in the struggle. 
 
 The sailors, at fault thrown, 
 With loud clamors rise 
 From the benches together, 
 Ply sharp -pointed poles 
 And iron-shod hand -spikes. 
 And pick up the broken oars 
 Out of the abysm. 
 But Mnestheus, made stouter 
 By his very success , 
 Invokes the winds' aid. 
 And with swift sweeping oar lianks 
 Pulls joyous away 
 In the open sea-room. 
 And runs with the fall 
 Of the water in landward. 
 As a dove, that a siidden 
 Alarm has disturbed 
 From her nest and sweet young 
 In one of a pumice rock's 
 Numerous hidings, 
 Away to the fields 
 Flies out of the cave 
 With a terrified flutter. 
 But soon on expanded 
 And motionless pinion 
 Glides swiftly along-, 
 And down through the still air 
 Her liquid way sweeps: 
 So Mnestheus flies over 
 The last of the course; 
 
105 
 
 Her mere imj^etiis so 
 Carries Grampus f()rward. 
 
 And first he deserts 
 Sergestus hard striig-gling- ~ 
 In the high rocky shallows 
 And in vain calling' help 
 And learning- to race 
 With broken oars. 
 Then away after Gyas 
 And enormous - dimensioned 
 Chimera herself, 
 
 Which, stripped of her steersman 
 No long- time competes. 
 And now at the uttermost 
 End of the course • 
 
 Remains only Cloanthus; 
 Him he makes after, 
 And his whole streng-th exerting- 
 Presses hard upon him. 
 
 'Tis then indeed all • 
 Repeat shout upon shout. 
 And cheer on the chaser, 
 Till ether resounds 
 With the crash of the clamor: 
 These indig-nantly cling 
 To the credit acquired, 
 And fast hold the honor 
 They have counted their own. 
 And are willing- to bartei' 
 Existence for glory. 
 Success feeds the others: 
 
 18* 
 
1% 
 
 They doubt not they 're able^ 
 And therefore they 're able. 
 
 And with bow beside bow 
 They had both perhaps won 
 The prizes together, 
 Had not, with both hands 
 Outstretched toward the sea^ 
 Cloanthus thus vowed, 
 And to the deities 
 Poured his prayer forth: — 
 
 ''Ye sea-ruiing- Gods, 
 Upon whose plains I race. 
 Only grant me my wish, 
 .And 1 '11 hold myself bound 
 To bring to your altars 
 And solemnly offer, 
 On this very shore ,^ 
 A brilliant white biill, 
 And into the salt waves 
 With joy .fling the entrails, 
 And the flowing- wine pour." 
 
 He said, and the whole choir 
 Of the Nereids and Phorcus, 
 And the maid Panopea, 
 Beneath the waves, heard him, 
 And father Portiinus, 
 With a piish of his great hand. 
 Himself urged him on. 
 Swifter than Notus, 
 Than fleet arrow swifter, 
 
V. 197 
 
 The bark flies to kind, 
 And into the deep port 
 Shoots away far. 
 
 Tlien the seed of Anchises, 
 Following- the custom, 
 Calls all tog-ether, 
 And with the herald's 
 Loud voice proclaims 
 Cloanthus victorious , 
 And with green laurel 
 Mantles his temples; 
 And commands him to choose 
 For each ship three steers. 
 And gives him for each ship 
 A present of wine 
 And a great silver talent. 
 
 On the captains themselves 
 He bestows the chief honors: 
 On the victor a chlamys, 
 With g-old over- wrought, 
 And twice with a broad 
 Purple stripe Melibean 
 Meandered all round; 
 And in -woven there 
 Was the royal boy, 
 Stalking the swift deer 
 On leafy Ida: 
 His lance in his hand 
 He is hot at the sport. 
 You may see him panting; 
 
198 
 
 But down on him swoopinij 
 
 Jove's wing-ed armour-bearer 
 
 Up aloft in his talons 
 
 From Ida has snatched him; 
 
 Aged g-uardians in vain 
 
 Stretch their hands toward the heavenj 
 
 And fierce -barking' dogs bay the air. 
 
 But to him who hath won 
 Second place by his prowess, 
 He gives a mail coat 
 Triple plaited with meshes 
 Of burnished g-old wire 
 (Adornment alike 
 And defence in the battle), 
 Which his own victor self 
 From Demoleos had torn 
 Under high Ilium's walls 
 Rapid Simoi's beside: 
 Exerting their whole strength, 
 Scarce able the menials, 
 Phegeus and Sagaris, 
 On their shoulders to carry 
 Its manifold plies; 
 But Demoleos long ago 
 Had it upon him, 
 When hunting and chasing 
 The Trojans about. 
 To the third he presents 
 A [);iir of bronze basins , 
 And two ewers of wrought silver 
 With figures embossed. 
 
lUU 
 
 With their gifts they had all now 
 Just so been presented, 
 And were marching along- 
 In the pride of their wealth, 
 With their temples bound round 
 With ribbons of crimson, 
 When, with miich skill and trouble. 
 From the fell rock pulled off, 
 And lame with the loss 
 Of a whole tier of oars , 
 Sergestus brings lip, 
 In the midst of derision, 
 His honorless vessel. 
 
 As when on a causeway 
 A snake is surprised 
 And by a brass wheel 
 Obliquely run over, 
 Or with a heavy blow 
 Maimed by way-farer, 
 And left on tl>e stone 
 Between living and dead; 
 In long coils it writhes. 
 And in vain to flee strives, 
 And lifts up on high 
 Its fore- part ferocious, 
 And its hissing neck rears, 
 And with fiery eyes glares. 
 While, twisting and twining 
 In knets on itself, 
 Its wounded and lame 
 Hinder part keeps it back: 
 So limpingly rowed 
 
200 V. 
 
 The slow bark along, 
 But made sail notwithstanding, 
 And under spread canvas 
 Entered the port. 
 
 Eneas, rejoicing- 
 That vessel and crew 
 Have been brought back in safety, 
 Bestows on Sergestus 
 The promised reward: 
 A slave not unskilled 
 In the works of Minerva, 
 Pholoe, the Cretan, 
 With twins at her bosom, 
 He has for his prize. 
 
 This combat dismissed, 
 Tender-hearted Eneas 
 Hies to where, round about 
 By a theatre girdled 
 Of curved, wooded -hills. 
 On the vale's intermediate 
 Smooth green was a circus. 
 'Twas hither the hero, 
 With many a thousand, 
 Repaired, and his seat took 
 On a high- raised estrade, 
 In the midst of the assembled 
 And seated spectators; 
 And to sharpen the spirit 
 Of siich as might hiiply 
 Incline to contend 
 In the rapid foot-race, 
 
V. 201 
 
 The prizes set out, 
 
 And displayed tlie rewards. 
 
 They come flocking: from all sides , 
 Teiicri mixed with Sicani: 
 First Euryalus and Nisus; 
 Euryalus of beauty rare, 
 In the fresh green of youth fair; 
 Nisus with all his heart 
 Virtuously, tenderly 
 Loving- the lad. 
 Next after in order 
 Comes royal Diores, 
 Descended from Priam's 
 Pre-eminent stock; 
 Then Salius and Pc4tron, 
 Acarnanian the one, 
 Of Teg-ea's Arcadian 
 Lineage the other; 
 Then two youths Trinacrian, 
 Helymus and Panopes, 
 Well lised to the woods, 
 Aged Acestes' pages: 
 And many besides 
 Of dim fame obscure. 
 In the midst of whom then 
 It was thiis spoke Eneas: — 
 
 "Give joyful attention. 
 And hear what I say. 
 Of all that are here 
 I '11 not allow one 
 To depart unrewarded: 
 
202 V. 
 
 A pair of darts Gnossian 
 Of bright, polished steel, 
 And a two-headed pole-axe 
 With raised work of silver, 
 Shall be to each one 
 Presented alike. 
 
 "Prizes shall be 
 For the foremost three, 
 And a wreath, round their heads, 
 Of tawny oUve: 
 For the first a superbly 
 Caparisoned horse, 
 The reward of the victor. 
 An amazon's quiver 
 The second shall have. 
 Full of Thracian arrows; 
 It hangs in a broad belt 
 With gold overlaid 
 And with a taper -turned 
 Jewel -stud fastened. 
 Let the third depart pleased 
 With this helmet ArgoUc." 
 
 When thus he had said. 
 They take their stands each; 
 Then, well marking' the goal. 
 Away on a sudden , 
 At the sound of the trumpet, 
 Rush into the course, 
 Like a fast- dashing shower. 
 And behind leave the barrier. 
 
V. 203 
 
 Far before all the rest 
 Nisus shoots away first, 
 More swift than the winds , 
 Or the wing^ed thunderbolt. 
 Next him, but next 
 With a long- interspace, 
 Salius comes after, 
 And then, on the ground 
 They both have passed over, 
 Euryalus third, 
 By Helymus followed, 
 Close behind whom, behold! 
 Diores comes flying, 
 Leans over his shoulder 
 And treads on his heels; 
 And, give him but more ground. 
 He '11 slip clear away from, 
 And quite behind leave. 
 Him whom now he 's so close to 
 You doubt which is foremost. 
 
 And now they 're almost 
 At the end of the course, 
 And wearily nearing 
 The very goal, 
 When Nisus slips, luckless, 
 In some glairy blood 
 Which where bullocks, it chanced. 
 Had lately been slaughtered, 
 Lay spilled on the ground 
 And had wet the green sward. 
 The youth was already 
 Victorious , triumphant , 
 
204 
 
 When on this spot his foot 
 To take firm hold ceasing^, 
 From linder him went, 
 And flat on his face 
 He fell in the midst 
 Of the gore sacrificial 
 And excrement foul. 
 
 Of Euryalus, however, 
 And his love for Euryalus 
 He was not forgetful; 
 Biit, from the slippery ground 
 Up as he rose, 
 Opposed himself right 
 In the way of Salius, 
 Who fell and rolled over 
 On his back in the thick sand. 
 
 In the midst of handclappings 
 And shouts of applause 
 Away shoots, away flies 
 Euryalus forward, 
 And by his friend's kindness 
 Has won the first place. 
 Up comes Helymus after, 
 And, now to the third palm 
 Entitled, Diores. 
 
 Here Salius, with loud shouts 
 The hiige concave filling, 
 Insists to the whole 
 Of the assembled spectators, 
 And most to the sires 
 
V. 
 
 In the front places seated, 
 Tliat the honor is his, 
 And miist be restored him. 
 Of which an unfair 
 Manoeuvre has robbed him. 
 
 For Euryalus plead 
 His becoming- tears; 
 His virtues, enhanced 
 By his personal grace, 
 Win the general favor; 
 Diores too helps him. 
 And shouts for him loud, 
 Having come in, in vain. 
 For the last palm and prize, 
 If to Salius restored 
 The first mark of distinction. 
 
 Then father Eneas: — 
 ''Your presents, young- men. 
 Remain certain and fixed , 
 And no one shall disturb 
 The palm from its order; 
 But me you 'II allow 
 To commiserate a friend, 
 Whose misfortune is diie 
 To no fault of his own." 
 
 So said, he gave Salius 
 The hiige hide uncouth 
 Of a lion Getiilian, 
 Golden -clawed, shag-gy, 
 A burthen to carry. 
 
 205 
 
200 
 
 Then says Nisus: — "If siich 
 Thy compassion lor falls, 
 And so great the rewards 
 Thou bestow'st on the conquered, 
 Let me see the fine present 
 Thou hast ready for Nisus; 
 For him who had g-loriously 
 Won the first garland, 
 Had he not been o'ercome 
 By the same spiteful fortune 
 That overcame Salius." 
 He said , and displayed 
 His face and limbs fouled 
 With the soft, dungy ooze. 
 
 The most excellent Father 
 Smiled at his plight: 
 Then bidding be brought forth 
 The shield manufactured 
 By skilled Didymaon, 
 Which the Danai" had pulled down 
 From Neptune's door sacred, 
 Bestowed the choice gift 
 On the worthy young man. 
 
 The race at an end, 
 And the presents awarded: — 
 "Now if any man here 
 Has indwelling courage 
 And spirit sufTicient, 
 Let him stand forth, and lift high 
 His gauntleted palms." 
 
V. 207 
 
 He said, and set forth 
 The battle's twahi honors: 
 For the victor a steer, 
 Vailed with fillets of gold; 
 A sword and grand helmet 
 To solace the conquered. 
 
 Then luud was the biizz of the admiring assembly 
 As Dares his mighty front raised on the instant: 
 'Twas Dares that used to contend against Paris, 
 Other equal for Paris was none. 
 He too it was that at mightiest Hector's 
 Tumulus sepulchral smote conquering Biites, 
 And stretched on the tawny sand dying the giant 
 Whose haughty demeanour showed how well he knew 
 He was come of Bebrycian Amycus' race. 
 Such was Dares that raised his high head first to battle, 
 Displayed his broad shoulders, and thrusting- and ciiffmg 
 With each arm alternate, pommeled the air. 
 A match is sought for him; but, of all that array, 
 Not one dares approach liim or draw on the gauntlet. 
 
 In high spirits therefore. 
 And thinking- that one and all 
 Yield him the palm, 
 He stands right in front 
 Of the feet of Eneas, 
 And without more ado 
 With his left hand takes hold 
 Of the biill by the horn. 
 And says: — "Goddess -born, 
 If there 's no one so bold 
 As to venture the battle, 
 
208 
 
 What end of my standing? 
 How long' must [ wait? 
 Bid me lead the prize off." 
 Same time the Dardanidae 
 Called out unanimous 
 To let the brave man 
 Have the promised reward. 
 
 Here with grave words Acestes 
 Reproaches Entellus , 
 As beside him he sat 
 On the green g-rassy bank: — 
 "Entellus, in vain once 
 The bravest of heroes, 
 And wilt thou so tamely, 
 Without even a struggle, 
 Allow such a prize' 
 To be carried away? 
 Where is our God now, 
 That Eryx thy master 
 Thou vaunt'st of so idly? 
 Where now thy renown 
 All Trinacria filling, . 
 And the spoils thou 'st at home 
 Hanging up in thy house?" 
 
 "It is not fear" — 
 Thus answered he — ■ 
 "Nor scared away 
 My love of glory 
 And fair achievement; 
 But slow old-age. 
 With numbing frost, 
 
V. 209 
 
 Has chilled my blood, 
 
 And worn out quite 
 
 My bodily vigor. 
 
 Held I but now 
 
 The youth I had once, 
 
 That youth in which 
 
 Yon wretch exults 
 
 So confident, 
 
 Nor gift had I 
 
 Nor fair steer needed, 
 
 To induce me 
 
 To come forward. 
 
 Who likes may take 
 
 The prize, for me." 
 
 So having' said, 
 He cast into 
 The midst a pair 
 Of most enormous, 
 Weighty gauntlets, 
 With whose hard hide 
 Doughty Ei-yx 
 Used to strap 
 His hands and arms. 
 Every time 
 The lists he entered. 
 
 All minds w^ere astounded, 
 So huge were those sevenfold 
 Plies of ox -leather, 
 So stiffened with in -plaited 
 Iron and lead. 
 Above. all the rest 
 
 14 
 
210 V. 
 
 Dares' self is astonished, 
 
 And will upon no account 
 
 Try the encounter. 
 
 Then, while the magnanimous 
 
 Son of Anchises 
 
 Swings hither and thither 
 
 And turns every way 
 
 The volume immense 
 
 Of those ponderous bands, 
 
 The old man gives utterance 
 
 To words such as these: — 
 
 "And what had ye said, 
 Had ye but Hercules' 
 Own gauntlets seen, 
 And the sad fight he fought 
 Upon this very shore? 
 These gauntlets belonged 
 To thine half-brother Eryx 
 (Thou see'st them with blood still 
 Besprinkled and brains); 
 With these he confronted 
 Mighty Alcides; 
 To these 1 was lised, 
 While a fresher blood- current 
 Supplied me with vigor, 
 And not yet had old age 
 Enviously sprinkled 
 My temples with hoar. 
 But if Trojan Dares 
 These weapons refuses, 
 And gentle Eneas 
 Is satisfied so. 
 
V. 211 
 
 And if my abettor 
 
 Acestes approves, 
 
 Let us make the figlit equal; 
 
 I do not insist 
 
 On the g-auntlets of Eryx 
 
 (Dismiss thy misgivings); 
 
 And thou, put thou off 
 
 Thy Trojan gloves too.'' 
 
 He said, and his doublet 
 Threw ofT from his shoulders, 
 His great limbs laid bare 
 And his great bones and muscles, 
 And forth in his might stood 
 In the midst of th' arena. 
 
 Then the seed of Anchises 
 Like gauntlets brought forth. 
 And with the matched weapons 
 The sire strapped the hands 
 Of the one and the other. 
 Upright on their toes 
 In an instant both rose; 
 And undaunted arms high 
 Lifting lip toward the sky, 
 And lofty heads drawing back 
 Far from the stroke, 
 With hand to hand sparring, 
 The battle provoke. 
 
 More nimble the one 
 In the pride of his youth; 
 
 14"^ 
 
212 V. 
 
 Strong-er limbed was the other, 
 
 And moulded gigantic, 
 
 But tremulous slow 
 
 Are his tottering knees, 
 
 And his vast limbs shake sore 
 
 With the pant of his breathing. 
 
 Many a blow 
 They toss to and fro , 
 All to no purpo-se: 
 Many a blow 
 Loud rattling- rings 
 On hollow chest 
 And sides, redoubled. 
 About ears and temples 
 Roves the hand frequent, 
 And under the hard cuffs 
 The jaws go crick crack. 
 
 In the same sustained posture 
 Entellus stands heavy, 
 And with vigilant eyes 
 The passes avoids 
 By only inclining his body. 
 His opponent y like one 
 Who brings works of war 
 To bear on a high seated city. 
 Or some mountain castle beleaguers, 
 On this side tries now. 
 Now on that the approaches, 
 And the whole place about 
 Reconnoitres with skilly 
 
V. 
 
 And with various assaults 
 Ineffectual presses. 
 
 Rears himself upright 
 Entellus, and shows 
 His rig^ht hand uph'fted ; 
 The other wares quick 
 The down coming blow, 
 And with nimble evc4sion 
 Slips out of the way. 
 Entellus discharges 
 His strength on the winds, 
 And to the ground ponderous 
 Falls of himself 
 With his vast heavy weight: 
 As on Erymanth sometimes, 
 Or on mighty Ida, 
 A hollow pine tumbles 
 Torn lip by the roots. 
 
 All at once and together, 
 In their interest for either, 
 The Teiicri rise up 
 And the youth of Trinacria; 
 To the sky mounts the clamor 
 Acestes the first is 
 Who riins to, and pitying 
 Lifts from the ground up, 
 His equal -aged friend. 
 
 But, by his mischance 
 Nor retarded nor scared, 
 The hero j-e turns 
 
 213 
 
214 V. 
 
 But more keen to the fight, 
 Of valor self-conscious, 
 Wrath rousing- his vigor, 
 Shame kindling his might; 
 And, all in a glow, 
 Drives over the whole plain 
 Dares headlong before him. 
 And now with his left hand 
 Redoubles his blows, 
 And now with his right. 
 
 'O' 
 
 There 's no stop nor stay, 
 But with blows of each hand, 
 As thick, fast, and frequent. 
 As pattering hailstones 
 Down showering on roof-tops, 
 The hero thumps Dares, 
 And knocks him about. 
 
 Then father Eneas, 
 Permitting no further 
 Their ires to proceed. 
 Nor Entellus to rage on 
 In siich bitter spirit. 
 Put an end to the fight. 
 And rescued tired Dares, 
 And with kind, petting words 
 Thus to him said: — 
 
 "Luckless wight, what delusion 
 So strong has possessed thee? 
 Perceiv'st not, thou warrest 
 Against a God's strensrth. 
 
V. 215 
 
 And that Heaven 's turned against thee? 
 Give way to the God," 
 He said, and the battle 
 Dechired to be ended. 
 
 But away to the vessels 
 His faithful companions 
 Bring- Dares, his crazy knees 
 Dragging along. 
 His head now to this 
 Now to that side tossing, 
 And clots of blood mixed with teeth 
 From his mouth spewing; 
 Then, summoned, the sword 
 And the helmet receive, 
 And leave to Entellus 
 The palm and the biill. 
 
 Then, exuberant in spirits 
 And proud of the biill: — 
 "Goddess -born," says the victor, 
 "And ye other Teiicri, 
 Behold both what strength 
 My youthful frame once had, 
 And from what certain death 
 Ye have Dares delivered." 
 
 He said, and right opposite 
 The face of the steer stood, 
 That was by- standing there. 
 The prize of the battle; 
 And rising bolt -upright, 
 And drawing back his right hand, 
 
216 V. 
 
 Swiing- the hard gauntlet 
 Between the two horns, 
 And the frontal bone fractured 
 And crushed in the brahi; 
 Prostrate the felled ox 
 Lies on the sward stretched, 
 Senseless and quivering. 
 Then, over him standing, 
 These words he put forth: — 
 "With this better life, Eryx, 
 I pay thee in full 
 For my not killing Dares, 
 And victorious here put by 
 My gauntlets , and with them 
 The art pugilistic." 
 
 Then straightway Eneas 
 Invites to compete. 
 Who haply may wish. 
 In the swift arrow contest, 
 And the prizes sets out; 
 And Serestus' ship's mast 
 With his hiige hand erects, 
 And suspends in a noose. 
 From the top of the mast, 
 The mark to be aimed at, 
 A swift -winged pigeon. 
 
 The competitors meet, 
 And into a brass helm 
 Their lot -counters flinging, 
 Forth comes first of all, 
 Amid shouts of applause. 
 
V. 217 
 
 The lot of Hippocoon, 
 
 Hyrtacus' son. 
 
 Close after whom follows 
 
 Mnestlieus, just now 
 
 In the ship -race victorious, 
 
 Mnestlieus with olive bough 
 
 Garlanded green. 
 
 Third comes Eurytion, 
 
 Who claims thee for brother, 
 
 Pandarus most glorious, 
 
 Thou that in old time, 
 
 Obedient to orders, 
 
 The first wert thy weapon 
 
 To fling- midst the Achivi, 
 
 And th' armistice break. 
 
 Lowest down in the helmet 
 
 And last lay Acestes ; 
 
 For he too had dared 
 
 In the task of the young man 
 
 His hand's strength to try. 
 
 Then every man takes out 
 His shaft from his quiver, 
 And gahantly every man 
 Bends his strong- bow; 
 And first from the twanging- string:, 
 Cleaving the swift air, 
 Through the sky speeds the arrow 
 Of Hyrtacus' son, 
 And comes and slicks fast 
 In the front of the mast: 
 The mast thrcjugh and through quivers, 
 The frighted bird flutters, 
 
218 V. 
 
 And fills the place round 
 With its clapping- wings' sound. 
 
 Bold Mnestheus next after, 
 With bended bow standing-, 
 His aim took on high 
 With strained shaft and strained eye. 
 But, alas! the bird missed, 
 Though he broke the lint noose 
 In which, tied by the foot. 
 From the tall mast it hung: 
 And away to the south winds 
 And dark clouds it flew. 
 
 Then in all haste Eurytion, 
 W^ho for some time was holding- 
 Bow bent and shaft levelled, 
 Made a vow to his brother, 
 And under the black cloud 
 Covered and pierced 
 With his arrow the pigeon, 
 That in the free sky there 
 Its glad wings was clapping. 
 Life leaving above 
 In the starry ethereal, 
 It tumbles down senseless, 
 And back to the ground 
 Brings the shaft in the wound. 
 
 Sire Acestes, the only 
 Remaining one now, 
 Though the victory 's lost. 
 Yet his science to show 
 In twanging- the bow, 
 
V. 219 
 
 High into the sky 
 
 His arrow let fly. 
 
 Here meets the eye sudden 
 
 Wliat diviners too kite, 
 
 By the great event taught 
 
 To prognosticate right. 
 
 Have declared was an omen 
 
 Of import terrific; 
 
 For the reed, in th' untroubled 
 
 Clouds of the fine weather, 
 
 Took fire as it flew, 
 
 And its path marked with flame, 
 
 Then into the thin winds 
 
 Away withdrew spent. 
 
 So oftentimes fly 
 
 Shooting stars through the sky, 
 
 And draw after them sweeping 
 
 Their l6n£- trail of hair. 
 
 'O 
 
 Confounded, astounded, 
 To the Gods pray the Teiicri 
 And men of Trinacria; 
 Nor refuses the omen 
 Most mighty Eneas, 
 But embraces, and heaps 
 With great gifts, glad Acestes, 
 And thiis to him says: — 
 "Accept this, father; 
 For Olympus' great king 
 By this portent declares thee 
 Entitled to hunor 
 Apart and especial. 
 This rich- embossed winebowl, 
 
220 V. 
 
 Which great -aged Anchises 
 Himself once possessed, 
 Thou shalfc have for thy boon. 
 Thracian Cisseus of old 
 On my parent Anchises 
 The great gift bestowed 
 To be kept as memorial 
 And pledge of his love." 
 
 He said, and saluted 
 Acestes first victor, 
 And bound round his temples 
 With laurel -branch green. 
 Nor did worthy Eurytion, 
 Though 'twas he alone brought down 
 The bird from the high sky, 
 With jealousy look 
 On the honor put past him. 
 For the next gift conies in 
 He that ruptured the cord; 
 Last is he whose swift arrow 
 Stood fixed in the mast. 
 
 But father Eneas, 
 Ere ended that game was, 
 Calls Epytides to him. 
 Companion and guardian 
 Of beardless lulus , 
 And in his trusty ear: — 
 "To Ascanius away quick. 
 And if he has with him 
 His young troo}) of horsemen 
 All equipped now and ready 
 
221 
 
 To go througli tlieir manoeuvres, 
 
 Bid him with tliem come hither 
 
 In arms, and parade 
 
 To his grandfatlier's honor.' 
 
 Out of the long- circus 
 
 Himself bids depart 
 
 The whole influx of people, 
 
 And leave the field free. 
 
 All glittering alike 
 On their well -bitted horses, 
 The kids make their entry 
 In sight of tlieir sires, 
 Admired by the whole youth 
 Of Troy and Trinacria, 
 And cheered as they go. 
 They all wear their hair, 
 As required by the custom, 
 Cut close in a round crop; 
 Two steel -pointed lances 
 Of cornel each carries, 
 And some on their shoulders 
 A smooth burnished quiver; 
 At the top of the chest 
 Round the neck goes a collar 
 Of flexile gold twisted. 
 
 Three troops of horsemen. 
 Distinct and apart, 
 Perambulate there, 
 Each troop with a captain; 
 Twice six glittering youths 
 Every captain commands. 
 
222 
 
 One youthful troop 's led 
 In ovation along-, 
 By a tiny Priam 
 (Called after his grandsire), 
 Thine illustrious offspring, 
 Polites, and soon 
 With a new, vigorous graft 
 To add streng-th to th' Italians. 
 The pasterns are white 
 Of his pieci Thracian charger, 
 And loftily carried 
 The proud forehead white. 
 
 Atys, from wdiom come 
 The Latin clan, Atii, 
 Little Atys is next, 
 The favorite boy-friend 
 Of the boy Iiilus. 
 
 Last and loveliest of all 
 Iiilus comes, mounted 
 On charger Sidonian, 
 By fair Dido given him 
 In remembrance of her 
 And in pledge of her kWc. 
 On aged Acestes's 
 Horses Trinacrian 
 Hide the rest of the youths. 
 
 Pit-a-pat go their hearts. 
 As the Dardanidae, 
 Gazing delighted, 
 And in their faces 
 
223 
 
 Tracing: their foresires, 
 Receive them with plaudits. 
 
 When now round the whole 
 Of the seated assembly 
 They have ridden, with joy, 
 In their relatives' sig-ht, 
 And to set out are ready, 
 Epytides gives them 
 The signal from far 
 With whip -crack and shout. 
 
 Each troop then divides 
 Into two equal parts. 
 Which tiirn about quick. 
 And trot off from each other; 
 Then wheel round again 
 At the word of command, 
 And charg-e, face to face. 
 
 Then their tactics they change, 
 And in opposite ranks 
 Advance and retire, 
 And retire and advance, 
 And wheel round and round. 
 And in intricate rings 
 Intercepting- and crossing- 
 And baflling- each other, 
 Fight out their sham battle ; 
 Sometimes their backs turning: 
 Defenceless and routed. 
 Sometimes spear grappling- spear, 
 
224 
 
 And then again, peace made, 
 Parading- united. 
 
 As the intricate blindways 
 And thousand turns puzzling 
 Of the Labyrinth they tell of, 
 In hig-h Crete of did, 
 Where no clue to g-uide you 
 Back, forward, or out, 
 You wandered for ever 
 About and about: 
 So puzzled the tracks 
 Of the sons of the Teiicri, 
 So perplexedly woven 
 Sportive battle and flight. 
 Like the gambols of porpoises 
 Playfully frisking- 
 In the sea -waters 
 Carpathian or Libyan. 
 
 Ascanius of old. 
 When round Longa Alba 
 He drew his walls' circle, 
 Re-established this g-ame 
 And these manege manoeuvres, 
 And taug-ht the old Latins 
 How himself, when a boy, 
 And the Trojan lads with him. 
 Had been lised to perform them. 
 The Albans their youth taught, 
 From whom mightiest Rome 
 In diie course received, 
 And, honoring: her fathers, 
 
PresL-rves tu this il.iy 
 The sftort they eall Troy 
 And the Trojan JJattahon. 
 So miicli lor the frames 
 In the sainted sire's lienor. 
 
 Here Fortune, unraitiirul, 
 Began lirst to eluinge ; 
 For whiist at the tumulus 
 Witli various amusements 
 The day 's solemnised, 
 Jiino Satiirnian, 
 Many a scheme pondering-, 
 And not sated yet 
 Of her ancient ill will , 
 D'lwn from licaven Iris 
 On fair wafting- breezes 
 To the ilian lleet sent. 
 
 Swift along her bow's path 
 Of a thousi>iid bright dyes, 
 r>own unseen runs the maid, 
 The great concourse surveys. 
 Round the coast casts her eye.s . 
 And observes the port empty, 
 Deserted the fleet. 
 
 But apart on the hniely beach 
 Weeping in secret, 
 Troy's matrons were wailing 
 The loss of Anchises; 
 And all, as they wept, 
 On the deep sea were gazing: — 
 
 i:> 
 
220 
 
 "Aliis, such a long- way 's 
 
 Still lying- before us, 
 
 And, tired as we are, 
 
 We have so much sea water 
 
 To sail over still!" 
 
 It was thiis with one voice 
 
 They all were exclaiming; 
 
 A city 's their prayer; 
 
 They are sick, sore and sorry 
 
 And the toils of the sea 
 
 Will no lonerer endure. 
 
 'O* 
 
 Into the midst of them. 
 Practised in mischief 
 Therefore she flings her, 
 And piits off the figure 
 And vest of a Goddess, 
 And makes herself Beroe, 
 The aged spouse becomes 
 Of Tmarian Doryclus, 
 Wlio once possessed-children 
 And kindred and name. 
 
 In this guise amidst 
 The Dardan dames ming-ling-: — 
 "Wretched women," she cries, 
 "Whom Achaian hands long ago 
 Dragged not to slaughter, 
 When fierce raged the battle 
 Your native walls round — 
 unfortunate crew. 
 For what worse destruction 
 Docs Fortune reserve ve? 
 
22" 
 
 The seventh summer now 
 
 Since the rasing- of Troy, 
 
 Its course is revolvini; , 
 
 Yet o'er land and o'er water 
 
 We 're wandering still; 
 
 Amidst bleak, savage rocks. 
 
 Under strange skies are roaming. 
 
 And , tossed on the billows , 
 
 Chace through the great sea 
 
 Italia, that ever 
 
 Before us is fleeing. 
 
 In the fraternal 
 
 Domains here of Eryx, 
 
 Here where we 're kindly 
 
 Received by Acestes, 
 
 What hinders from founding 
 
 Our city's walls here, 
 
 And entering at once 
 
 On a citizen Ufe? 
 
 my country, and ye 
 
 Penates, in vain 
 
 Rescued out of the foe's midst, 
 
 Shall there not, now at last, 
 
 Be a city called Troy? 
 
 Am 1 no where to see 
 
 A Simoi's' or Xanthus' 
 
 Hectorean stream? 
 
 Nay, nay, come along, 
 
 And help me to burn down 
 
 These unlucky vessels; 
 
 For prophetic Cassandra's form 
 
 Seemed, as 1 slept, 
 
 A ht torch to hand me; 
 
 15* 
 
228 
 
 Here, she says, is your homo. 
 In this spot seek your Troy. 
 Opportunity works, 
 And the g-reat prodigy 
 Meets with no hindrance: 
 See here where to Neptune 
 Four altars are standing; 
 With lit brands, with courage 
 The God's self supplies us/' 
 She said, the way led, 
 And the rankling fire seized , 
 And, with right hand uplifted, 
 From where she stood, brandishctl 
 And with might and main flung. 
 
 The spirits are roused 
 Of the llian matrons. 
 With amazement their hearts struck' 
 And one of the oldest 
 Of the whole number, 
 Pyrg-o , nurse royal 
 Of the so numerous 
 Children of Priam: — 
 "No Beroe Rhoetean, 
 No spouse of Dorycius 
 Ye have here, dames;" she cries; 
 " See how her eyes biirn , 
 Mark her beauty divine, 
 Her expression, her spirit, 
 Her voice and her gait. 
 I myself but just now. 
 When I came away hither, 
 Left Beroe sick. 
 
229 
 
 And in sad disappointment 
 That she, only slie, 
 TIic great office should miss, 
 And not pay Anchises 
 Tlie nierited honors." 
 
 She said , and the matrons 
 At first stood uncertain 
 And either way swaying; 
 And on the vessels 
 An ill eye were casting — 
 On the one heand sore love 
 Of the land that was present, 
 On the other the call 
 Of the Fate -destined realms — 
 When the Goddess her wings spread, 
 And dp through the sky sped 
 Her flight the clouds under. 
 Along the great bow. 
 
 Then indeed, by the prodigy 
 Smote with amazement, 
 Impelled by a fury, 
 The matrons a shout raise 
 At once and together, 
 Snatch the fire from the hearths, 
 (While some strip the altars), 
 And fling brands with their wIkWc force 
 And leafy twig -faggots. 
 Through oars and row -benches 
 And painted pine poops 
 With loose reins careers 
 Raging Vulcan unbridled. 
 
230 
 
 To the tomb of Anchises 
 And to the theatre's 
 Wedg-e- grouped spectators 
 Eiimekis the news bring-s 
 That the fleet is on fire: 
 They look back and themselves see 
 The dark, showering- ashes; 
 And Ascaniiis the first is 
 (Just so as he was there, 
 All joyous conducting 
 His horsemen's manoeuvres) 
 OfT to the disturbed camp 
 At full speed to gallop , 
 Nor can his terrified 
 Guardians restrain him: — 
 
 "What strange madness is this? 
 What would ye be at now? 
 What would ye?" he cries: 
 "Ah! unhappy townswomen. 
 It is not the foe, 
 Not the camp of the Argive, 
 'Tis your own hopes ye biirn. 
 See, 1 'm your Ascanius ! " 
 And he took off and tiirew 
 At their feet down before them 
 The helmet he wore 
 In the sham -fight amusement. 
 At the same time Eneas 
 Comes lip in all haste, 
 And the Teiicrian bands come. 
 But the women, affrighted, 
 Away flee on ail sides 
 
V. 231 
 
 Wide over the shore, 
 And into tlie woods steal, 
 Or skulk into whatever 
 Caves and holes they can find. 
 They repent their attempt, 
 They 're ashamed of the light, 
 *Tliey aeknowledi^e their friends, 
 Their whole temper 's changed, 
 And out of their breasts 
 They have quite shaken Jdno. 
 
 But not the less rages, 
 For all that, the fire, 
 Nor abate the flames therefore 
 Their wild, untamed strength; 
 Beneath the moist timbers 
 The calking tow smoulders, 
 And slow vomits smoke: 
 The element siipple 
 Gnaws slowly the hulls; 
 The pest descends down 
 Through the whole of the frame: 
 All the strength of the heroes, 
 All the floods they throw on it. 
 Avail not to stay it. 
 
 Then gentle Eneas 
 Tears his vest from his shoulders, 
 His hands toward heaven stretches 
 And the Gods' help invokes: — 
 "0 omnipotent Jove, 
 If not yet to a man 
 Thou detestest us Trojans, 
 
232 
 
 If thou "st still some remains 
 
 Of the pity wherewith 
 
 Thou wast wonted of old 
 
 To regard human troubles , 
 
 Grant our shi[3s now. Sire. 
 
 An escape from this fire, 
 
 And rescue Troy's slender 
 
 Estate from destruction; 
 
 Or complete thy w^ork outright, 
 
 And, if siich my deserving-, 
 
 With angry bolt here 
 
 On this spot overwhelm me. 
 
 And with thy right hand 
 
 To death send me down." 
 
 Scarce had he uttered, 
 When the rains were let loose. 
 And a dark tempest raged 
 Beyond precedent furious , 
 And highlands and plain? 
 With thunderpeals rattled. 
 Down from the whole ether 
 Tis one pour of water, 
 One thick, rushing- shower 
 Of black black, troubled south- lain 
 The ships fill, and run over. 
 The charged timber s drenche<l 
 The fiery glow 's (juenched 
 And from the pest saved 
 All the vessels but four. 
 
 But father Eneas, 
 L>v the soui- mischance shucked,. 
 
283 
 
 Weighty cares in liis breast 
 
 With himself was rev()lving-. 
 
 And between the two ways 
 
 To and fro vacillating-: 
 
 Should he settle down there 
 
 In the fields of Sicilia 
 
 And forget the fates quite, 
 
 Or for th' Italian coasts 
 
 Make right ahead. 
 
 Then elderly Nantes, 
 
 Whom Pallas Tritonian 
 
 Had specially taught. 
 
 And rendered distinguished 
 
 Above every other 
 
 For soothsaying- skill — 
 
 (Her answers would tell him 
 
 What it was the great wrath 
 
 Of the Gods was foreboding. 
 
 What is was the Fates' preordained 
 
 Order required) , 
 
 In consoling words thiis 
 
 To Eneas began: — 
 
 ^'Whither the Fates 
 Do so piill and re-piill us. 
 Goddess -born, let us follow. 
 Let what will, be coming, 
 No fortune 's so bad 
 But it may be surmounted 
 By patient endurance. 
 There 's Acestes. a Oardan 
 And from the Gods sprung, 
 To him imparl freely 
 
234 
 
 Thy plan of proceeding; 
 
 He 's ready and willing- 
 
 To help and advise thee. 
 
 The crews of the lost ships 
 
 Hand over to him, 
 
 And whoever are sick 
 
 Of the great undertaking 
 
 And of thy concernments, 
 
 And the very old men, 
 
 And the sea -weary matrons; 
 
 And choose out the wea,k ones 
 
 And such as are timid, 
 
 And here in this land 
 
 Let them fix their abode, 
 
 And bestow on their city 
 
 (Thou 'It allow them the privilege 
 
 Of choosing the name) 
 
 The name of Acesta." 
 
 'Twas then indeed, then, 
 That, inflamed by the w()rds 
 Of his elderly friend, 
 He was really distracted: 
 And dark Night was now 
 Along the sky driving 
 In pair- in -hand team, 
 When, down from heaven ghdiug, 
 A'lipeared on a sudden 
 The form of his parent 
 Anchises, and seemed 
 Words like these to pour lV)rlli: — 
 "0 S(')n , once than life 
 (When I had life) more dear; 
 
235 
 
 son by the llian fates 
 harassed so sore; 
 
 By that Jiipiter, who 
 Drove the fire from thy ships, 
 And from high heaven at hist 
 Took compassion upon thee, 
 
 1 come iiither, commanded. 
 Obey the advisings 
 
 Of elderly Nautes, 
 
 That so charmingly fit 
 
 With the present conjuncture: 
 
 Youths of the stoutest heart 
 
 Choose out and take 
 
 To Italy with thee; 
 
 Thou 'st a rude, hardy people 
 
 In Latium to war down. 
 
 But the linder- ground dwelling 
 
 Of Dis visit first, 
 
 And through deep Avernus 
 
 Come down, son, and meet me; 
 
 For not kindless Tartarus' 
 
 Gloomy shades own me; 
 
 In delightful Elysium 
 
 I won with the gentle. 
 
 Holy Sibyl, when many 
 
 A black sheep has bled. 
 
 Shall hither conduct thee. 
 
 Of thine whole future race 
 
 And the city vouchsafed thee 
 
 Thou shalt then i)e informed. 
 
 And now fare thee well! 
 
 Humid Night has the half 
 
 Of her journey completed, 
 
236 V. 
 
 And with his panting steeds 
 Fell Morn blows on me." 
 He said, and like smoke 
 Into thin air away fled. 
 
 "Whither rushest thou then?'' 
 Says Eneas, "or whither 
 Betak'st thyself from me? 
 Whom fleeest? who keeps thee 
 Away from my arms?" 
 So saying", he stirred up 
 The fire's sleeping embers, 
 And fumig-ated 
 Pergamean Lar 
 And hoar Vesta's shrine 
 With a full box of incense. 
 And offered the blest meal, 
 And piit up his prayer. 
 
 The worship completed. 
 He summons his peers 
 And, above all, Acestes; 
 And Jiipiter's orders 
 Lays fiilly before them, 
 And his dear sire's injunctions, 
 And his own, formed opinion. 
 Acestes gainsays not; 
 The vote 's not long- passing; 
 They transcribe to the city 
 And set down Jrom travel 
 The matrons aiul till wlm 
 To stay are inclined, 
 Minds wholly devoid 
 
V. TM 
 
 Of the i)assion for glory. 
 Themselves then rc|)lace 
 The half- eaten ship -timbers, 
 Make new the row benches, 
 And with (3ar and rope- tackling 
 Rig out afresh; 
 
 They 're a brave, gallant crew, 
 Though they muster but few. 
 
 In the meantime Eneas 
 Marks out with plough- furrow 
 The site of the city, 
 And lots out the dwellings ; 
 And here bids be Ilium, 
 And there bids be Troy. 
 x\nd Trojan Acestes 
 Delights in his realm, 
 And, fixing by edict 
 A Forum, presides 
 O'er the Fathers assembled. 
 On p]ryx' high top too, 
 Not far from the sky, 
 For Venus Idalian 
 A seat is established; 
 And to Anchises' tomb 
 Added a priest; 
 And a grove consecrated. 
 With wide -spreading piirlieub. 
 
 x\nd now for nine days 
 All the people were feasted, 
 And ofTerings , for nine days , 
 Were laid on the altars; 
 
238 V. 
 
 And beneath the mild breezes 
 
 The sea -plain lay level, 
 
 And the steady and fair breath 
 
 Of Auster once more 
 
 To the high -deep was calling- — 
 
 Then through the bayed shores 
 
 The great wailing arises; 
 
 In mutual embraces 
 
 They ling-er, and draw out 
 
 The day and the night; 
 
 And the matrons themselves 
 
 And those very men 
 
 To whom the sea's face 
 
 But just now seemed so rough, 
 
 And the weather a thing 
 
 That was not to be borne, 
 
 Are desirous to g-6, 
 
 And endure to the end 
 
 All the toil of the travel: 
 
 Whom with kind, friendly words 
 
 Good Eneas consoles, 
 
 And with tears recommends 
 
 To their kinsman Acestes; 
 
 Then three calves commands 
 
 To be slaughtered to Eryx, 
 
 And a lamb to the Tempests, 
 
 And one after another 
 
 To let go the cables. 
 
 Himself, with a clipped 
 
 Olive wreath round his head, 
 
 Stands far off on the bow, 
 
 And into the salt waves 
 
 The entrails consigns, 
 
y. 239 
 
 And the flowinj;;- wine pours. 
 
 A wind rises c'lft 
 
 And convoys them akWig-; 
 
 And, all hands with rival oars 
 
 Smiting- the deep, 
 
 O'er the sea- plain they sweep. 
 
 But care -harassed Venus 
 Meanwhile accosts Neptune, 
 And from her breast forth 
 Pours this lamentation: — 
 "The serious and ever- 
 Unsatiated anger 
 Of Jiino's breast, Neptune, 
 Compels me to all 
 Sorts of prayers to descend; 
 Unsoftened by length of time, 
 Untouched by pity, 
 Unsubdued by the Fates, 
 By Jove's mandate unquelled, 
 She never rests quiet. 
 Not enough for her horrible 
 Spite to have tortured 
 With all sorts of torture 
 And out of the midst 
 Of the Phrygian nation 
 Cut their capital city, 
 She must persecute still 
 Murdered Troy's poor remains, 
 Her bones and her cinders; 
 Best known to herself 
 The cause of such fiiry. 
 Thou thyself art my witness, 
 
240 
 
 Wliat a coil but just now 
 She raised, all of a sudden, 
 In the Libyan sea -waters; 
 How the whole sea and sky 
 She mixed up in one pother, 
 On th' Eolian blasts squally 
 Relying in vain — 
 In thy reahiis she dared this. 
 See too, how she has driven 
 Troy's dames into crime, 
 And foully our shipb burned, 
 And on an unknown land 
 Compelled us to leave 
 Our comrades behind us. 
 One thing-, and one only, 
 Remains for us now, 
 And for that only 
 One thing 1 entreat thee , • 
 Safe voyage across 
 To Laurentian Tyber, 
 If the Parcae permit us 
 Our city to fix there, 
 And if I claim nothing 
 But what 's been accorded.' 
 
 Thus spoke then the deep sea' 
 Satiirnian controller : — 
 ''Thou 'st all right, Cytherea, 
 To confide in my realms, 
 Since from them thou art spniiiii 
 I deserve it too from thee: 
 For tilde I 've suppressed oft 
 The wild, raging fiiry 
 
V. 241 
 
 Both of sky and of sea; 
 
 And that I have not 
 
 Of thine Eneas 
 
 Taken less care on hind, 
 
 Let Xantlius and Simois 
 
 Testify for me. 
 
 When ag^ainst their own walls 
 
 Pursuing Achilles 
 
 Dashed Troy's half- dead squadrons, 
 
 And slew many thousands, 
 
 And, with dead bodies filled up. 
 
 The rivers' beds groaned, 
 
 And Xanthus no longer 
 
 Could find out a passage 
 
 Or roll to the sea, 
 
 From mighty Pelides, 
 
 For whom he was no match 
 
 In Gods or in strength, 
 
 Safe in a cloud's hollow 
 
 I snatched off Eneas, 
 
 Though strong my desire 
 
 To o'ertiirn from the bottom 
 
 That perjured Troy city 
 
 Mine own hands had biiilt. 
 
 Now too I 've the same mind 
 
 Unaltered and steady; 
 
 Fear not — he shall safely 
 
 Reach, as thou wishest, 
 
 The port of x\vernus, 
 
 With the loss, on the deep, 
 
 Of a single man only, 
 
 Whose one life shall ransom 
 
 The lives of the many." 
 
 10 
 
242 V. 
 
 Tlie sire, with these words 
 Having- gladdened and soothed 
 The heart of the Goddess, 
 Puts the hit in tlie mouths 
 Of his wild, foaming steeds 
 With their g()ld harness yokes (hem 
 Lets nin through liis liand loose 
 The whole length of the reins, 
 And in his dark -b hie car 
 Flies lightly along- 
 O'er the face of the sea: 
 The swollen waters siil)side, 
 And spread level under 
 His tluindering axle; 
 Out of the vast ether 
 Away flee the storms. 
 In his motley corte^ge 
 Was the great, monstrous whale. 
 And old Glaucus' choir, 
 And hioan Palemon , 
 And swift -speeding Tritons, 
 And Ph(')rcus' whole muster: 
 On his left hand was Thetis 
 With Nesea, Thalia, 
 Cymckloce, Spio, 
 Tlie maid Panopean, 
 And Melite. 
 
 Here through the mind anxious 
 Of father Eneas 
 Bland joy in its turn thrills; 
 He commands them to set up 
 All the masts (quickly, 
 
V. 243 
 
 And the sails on the yards spread. 
 
 Tlicy iinlurl sail toi^c^ther, 
 
 First on tiie larboard side, 
 
 Then on the starboard side, 
 
 And to the ?^unnel » 
 
 The clew- lines brace last; 
 
 All at ()nce they heave up 
 
 Their yard -horns on high. 
 
 Then haul them taug:ht aft, 
 
 And before the wind sciid. 
 
 Paliniirus, ahead, 
 
 The dense squadron led; 
 
 All the others were ordered 
 
 To shaj)e course by him. 
 
 And now damp Night had reached 
 About halfway her goal, 
 And beside their oars stretched 
 All along- the hard benches 
 The sailors in still sleep 
 Their limbs had relaxed. 
 When from tjx' ethereal sky 
 Down ^Uding- light, 
 The miirky air parting-, 
 And scattering- the darkness, 
 Sdmnus to thee comes, 
 Paliniirus, 
 
 And for no fault of thine 
 Brin.gs thee sad slumbers; 
 And, in figure like Phorbas, 
 On the hig:h poop the God sat. 
 And poured this discourse: — 
 
 10* 
 
244 V« 
 
 "Palinurus lasideSy 
 
 Steady the fleet g-oes 
 
 Before the fair wind; 
 
 'Tis the hour of repose; 
 
 Lay thine head down to sUimber 
 
 And steal for thy tired eyes 
 
 A moment of rest : 
 
 1 myself for a while 
 
 Will take on me thy duty.'' 
 
 To liim Paliniirus, 
 
 His eyes scarce iiplifting^: — 
 
 "And desirest thou me 
 
 To confide in this monster, 
 
 As if 1 knew not 
 
 What the ph'icid face means, 
 
 And the c;Um of the salt sea? 
 
 Or wouldst thau have me, 
 
 Whom a fair-seeming^ sky 
 
 So often has cheated, 
 
 Give Eneas in charge 
 
 To the treacherous breezes?" 
 
 He said, and kept watching 
 With fixed eyes the stars. 
 And clung close to the tiller, 
 And would not let go: 
 Then o'er both his temples, 
 BehokU the God shakes 
 A b(5ugh drenched in Lethe's 
 Stygian dew soporilic. 
 And releases his swimming- 
 And unwilling- eyes. 
 No sooner the first touch 
 
245 
 
 Of sleep unexpected 
 
 His limbs had relaxed, 
 
 Than with his whole weight 
 
 He leans down upon him, 
 
 And into the clear water 
 
 Pushes him headlong, 
 
 With the br()ken-ofr helm 
 
 And a part of the poop, 
 
 And 6ft on his comrades 
 
 In vain for help calling-; 
 
 Then lip to the thin air 
 
 Away soars himself. 
 
 But the fleet notwithstanding 
 
 Sails dauntlessly on, 
 
 In sire Neptune's word safe: 
 
 And now they were nearing 
 
 The rocks of the Sirens, 
 
 Dangerous of old, 
 
 And with sailors' bones white; 
 
 Far ofl" heard the constant 
 
 Hoarse roar of the breakers; 
 
 When the Father, perceiving 
 
 The ship drifting wide 
 
 For want of her helmsman, 
 
 Himself steered her on 
 
 Through the midnight waters, 
 
 Much shocked, and lamenting 
 
 With many a grtkm oft 
 
 The ill chance of his friend: — 
 
 •'0 too much confiding 
 
 In fair sea and sky. 
 
 On an unknown shore naked, 
 
 Paliniire, thou shalt He." 
 
VI. 
 
 With tears he said, and gave his fleet the rein; 
 And at last glides to Ciima's shores Euboean. 
 
 Moored by the anchor's tooth tenacious, 
 The vessels' curved sterns line the coast; 
 Out toward the sea the prows are turned: 
 Forth on the shore Hesperian leap 
 The ardent young men in a band: 
 Some for the seeds of fire make search, 
 Where in the flint's veins they lie hidden; 
 Some through the woods scour and the dens 
 And thickets of their wild indwellers, 
 Or find and show where flow the rivers. 
 
 But kind Eneas seeks afar 
 The steep where high Apollo reigns, 
 And the vast and awful cavern, 
 Secret haunt of dread Sibylla, 
 Whom the seer of Delos fills 
 With inspirations high and mighty, 
 And foreknowledge of the future. 
 
 ^O" 
 
 x\nd now to the g^roves of Trivia 
 And the golden fane they come; 
 
VI. 217 
 
 Dedal lis, so s;iys report, 
 Fjoih llic realms of iVlinos fleeing, 
 Dared on lofward- bearing pinions 
 T(') confide liini to tiie sky, 
 And, by that unfrequented route 
 T(')\vard the j^ehd Arctic sailing-, 
 Lightly set his foot at hist 
 On the high Chalcidic steep. 
 
 Here where he first touched hind again, 
 He raised thee, Phoebus, a vast teniple, 
 And in it consecrated to thee 
 The wings with which he had rowed thitlier, 
 Androgeos' death was on the doors, 
 And the Cecropidae compelled 
 To pay away in annual mulct, 
 Ah woe! seven of their sons alive: 
 You see before you standing there 
 The lirn from whence they 've dniwn their lots. 
 
 And corresponding, opposite, 
 The Gnossian hind, raised o'er the sea, 
 Displays the unnatural, stolen connexion 
 (if Pasiphae with the bull, 
 And the monstrous passion's friiit, 
 The biforni Minotaur, memorial 
 Of the confusion between kinds. 
 
 Here too is seen th' elaborate Injuse. 
 That maze from which there 's no escaj;)ing — 
 But Dedaliis, out (if compassion 
 To the great love (if the ((ueen , 
 Witli a cliie the captive's blind steps 
 
248 VI. 
 
 Himself guided, and unravelled 
 The building's cunning roundabouts. 
 
 Thou too, Icariis, hadst had. 
 Had the father's grief permitted, 
 A large share in so great a work — 
 Twice he essayed in gold 
 The disaster to mould; 
 Twice the paternal hands 
 Powerless fell, 
 
 Biit before they could entirely 
 With their eyes the work go over, 
 Achates, whom they had before them 
 Despatched as courier, had returned, 
 And Deiphobe, Glaucus' daughter, 
 Phoebus' and Trivia's priestess, with him, 
 Who in these words to the king: — 
 *'This is no time for sight -seeing; 
 Better far it were to offer. 
 As demanded by the custom. 
 Seven steers from th' unblemished herd. 
 And an equal number choice sheep 
 That have cut their second - year teeth." 
 
 The priestess, when she had in these words 
 Addressed Eneas (nor were they 
 Slow to perform the ritual ordered), 
 Into the high fane calls the Teiicri. 
 
 The side of the Euboean rock 
 Into a cavern hiige is hollowed, 
 Whither a hundred wide approaches 
 
Vr. 249 
 
 Tlmnigh a hundred broad mouths lead, 
 Whence the answers of the Sibyl 
 In a hundred voices riish. 
 
 To the entrance they had come, 
 Wiien the virgin : — "To demand 
 The fates now is the time," she says: 
 "The God! see there! the God! the God!" 
 
 While thiis before the door she spoke, 
 Her countenance, all of a sudden. 
 And color changed; into disorder 
 Fell her combed hair; high heaved her breast, 
 Savage and rabid swelled her heart; 
 Taller than hiiman looks her stature, 
 Louder than mortal's sounds her voice, 
 As closer still and closer on her 
 Blows the God's inspiring breath: — 
 *'Why so slow with thy vows and prayers, 
 Trojan Eneas, why so slow? 
 Never, until thou hast vowed and prayed, 
 Will this astounded dwelHng open 
 Its mighty, yawning mouth." 
 This said, she hushed; an icy tremor 
 Thrilled through the hardy Teiicrians' bones, 
 And from the bottom of his breast 
 Poured forth these prayers the king:— ^ 
 
 "0 Phoebus, of Troy's grievous toils 
 Compassionate ever; who directedst 
 Straight against Eacides' ijody 
 Paris' Dardan shaft and hand; 
 Following whose guidance 1 have entered 
 
250 vr 
 
 So many seas enc()mpassin^ 
 So many widely trending- coasts, 
 Even to the quite out-of-the-way 
 Massylian tribes, and to the lands 
 That lie behind the screen of the Syrtes: 
 Now that, at last, we have caught hold 
 Of the fugitive shore Italian, 
 Let our evil Trojan fortune 
 No further go along with us. 
 Ye too, Gods all and Gckldesses, 
 To whom Dardania's mighty giory, 
 And Ihum gave such umbrage, ye 
 May well spare now the race Pergamean 
 And thou, most holy seer prophetic. 
 Grant me — I ask a debt — the realm 
 My fates have promised me in Latium; 
 A settlement for the Teiicrians there, 
 And for Troy's travel -harassed Gods. 
 To Phoebus and to Trivia then 
 I '11 found a solid marble temple, 
 And set apart days to be kept 
 Festive in Phoebus' name and honor. 
 Thee too, gracious maid, awaits 
 A great shrine in our realm; for there 
 A brotherhood 1 '11 consecrate, 
 To take charge ()f thine (3i'acles, 
 And the mysterious fates interpret, 
 Appointed to befall my line. 
 Only trust not to leaves thy verses. 
 Lest, of the rapid winds the sport. 
 Here and there they lly dis()rdered: 
 Sing them thyself, 1 [)nVy." 
 No further word he added. 
 
VI. 251 
 
 Biit, of Pli()cl)iis not yet patient. 
 The seer ramps in the cave, outrageous. 
 To shake off, if she nv\y , the threat God: 
 So iniich the UKu-e in lijind lie hears her, 
 So miich the more her n'lhid mcnith 
 Worries and works, and tames her wild heart. 
 
 And now the building-'s hundred hiiu^e doors 
 Open si)ontaneous, and the seer's 
 Responses through the air transmit: — 
 ''0 thou who li;ist at last o'ercome 
 The mighty perils of the sea 
 (Land's greater perils yet await thee), 
 The Dardans to the realm Lavinian 
 Shall* come — thine anxious doubts dismiss — 
 Biit they shall riie tlie day they came: 
 Wars, horrid wars, I see; and Ty'ber 
 Foaming with a bloody flood. 
 Never shalt thou a Simois want, 
 A Xanthus, or a Doric camp; 
 In Latiiim 's provided lor thee 
 A new Achilles, and no less 
 Born of a Goddess than the former; 
 And never will the Teiicrians' baggage, 
 Jiino, Ije jibsent from them far. 
 W^here 's the Italian trilje or city, 
 To which in that thine hour of ncod 
 Thou shalt not raise thy cry for help? 
 Again the cause of so great trouble 
 Shall be a stranger bride's espousal 
 By a Teucrian bridegroom -guest. 
 But yield not th"6u to evil fortune; 
 Bather confrimt the ill more boldly 
 
252 VI. 
 
 The more adverse it comes upon thee. 
 Salvation's way will open to thee 
 From a quarter whence of all 
 Thou hop'st it least, a Graian city." 
 
 In such dark words the truth involving, 
 The Ciiman Sibyl from the shrine 
 Chaunted her frightful rhapsody, 
 And made the cavern round rebellow; 
 So cruelly Apollo checked 
 Her rag-ing mouth's bars with the bit, 
 And diig into her side the rowels. 
 
 At the first pause of her fiiry, 
 First rest of her rabid mouth, 
 Hero Eneas thiis begins: — 
 "New to me or unexpected . 
 Rises, maid, no form of trouble: 
 1 have foreseen and m my mmd 
 Previously gone through the whole. 
 One thing I beg; since here, they say, 
 The doorway of the infernal king, 
 And here the dismal kike that comes 
 From the overflow of Acheron, 
 Show me the way that 1 should go 
 My dear sire's face once more to see. 
 Open the sacred portals for me; 
 Him from the enemy's midst 1 snatched, 
 Upon these shoulders bore him ofT 
 Through flames and thousand following weapons 
 Weak as he was, he went with me 
 All the seas round, my travel's conu'ade, 
 Bore all the threats of waves and weather, 
 
Vr. 253 
 
 To years declining- so unsuited. 
 
 Nay, himself begg-ed me (md commissioned 
 
 To come thus suppliant t() tliy dwelling. 
 
 Take pity, gracious maid, I pray thee, 
 
 Both on the son and on the sire; 
 
 For thine is here the power supreme, 
 
 And not idly Hecate gave thee 
 
 Dominion o'er Avernus' groves. 
 
 If Orpheus with his Thnician lyre's 
 
 Resounding strings could summon b;jck 
 
 His spouse's Manes; 
 
 If Pollux for his brother's life 
 
 Could give his own life in redemption, 
 
 And that road pass and repass. 
 
 Life for death so often changing — 
 
 Or need I mention mighty Theseus, 
 
 Great Alcides need 1 mention? 
 
 1 too am sprung from Jove supreme." 
 
 So prayed he by the altars holding; 
 
 And thiis began the prophetess: — 
 
 "Trojan Anchisiades, seed of the Gods, 
 The descent to Avernus is easy — 
 Day and night open stands 
 The door of dark Dis — 
 But thy steps to the lipper air 
 Back to retrace, 
 That indeed is laborious, 
 Hard work indeed that, 
 By those rare ones acc6mi)lished, 
 Whom, born of the Gods, 
 Just Jupiter favored. 
 Or ardor of virtue 
 
254 VI. 
 
 Bore aloft to the ether: 
 
 Wide w()0(ls intervene, 
 
 And around with dark )j<>soni 
 
 Cocytus' stream winds; 
 
 But it twice to sail 
 
 The Stygian lake over 
 
 So strong- be thy |);ission, 
 
 If so keen thy desire 
 
 Black Tartarus to see twice, 
 
 And thou lik'st at the mad toil 
 
 To take thy full swing, 
 
 Hear what 's first to be done: 
 
 On a dark shady tree 
 
 There grows a bough sacred 
 
 To Jiino Infernal; 
 
 All golden its leaves are, 
 
 Its tough stem all golden; 
 
 In the depths of the grove, 
 
 In the gloomy g-len's depths, 
 
 It lies hidden obscure; 
 
 Yet may no one enter 
 
 The underground w^orld, 
 
 Ere this g-olden- tressed shoot 
 
 He has phicked from the tree. 
 
 This gift as her own 
 
 Fair Proserpina claims. 
 
 And commands to be brought her. 
 
 The first branch ofT- broken, 
 
 Another gold b()iigh 
 
 With like golden leaves 
 
 Shoots out in its stead. 
 
 So explore the place round. 
 
 Till the branch thou hast f()und, 
 
vr. 
 
 And tluin witli thy himd 
 
 (\Y\\.\\ l.hy hand it imisl he) 
 
 Hroak it off from tiie tree; 
 
 For 'twill so with thee ready, 
 
 ir for it thou 'rt fated; 
 
 Else no strent;tli ol' thine. 
 
 Not even with hard steel's iiel|>, 
 
 May avail to compel it. 
 
 1 will tell thee besides, 
 
 Thy friend lifeless lies 
 
 (Ah! little thou dream'st it) 
 
 And with his dead body 
 
 Pollutes the whole fleet, 
 
 Whilst here thou keep'st haruiing 
 
 About my purlieus, 
 
 And for oracles seek'st. 
 
 Him away carry first, 
 
 And diily dispose 
 
 Tn his home in the tomb ; 
 
 Then ])ring^ thy black cattle. 
 
 And make thy stn-oiTerin.G:. 
 
 That done, the groves Styginri 
 
 At last thou shalt see, 
 
 And the realms that no entrance 
 
 Allow to the living'." 
 
 She said, and her mouth closed, 
 
 And further word spake not. 
 
 Eneas, with fixed eyes and sad, 
 In his mind the dark future revolvinj^, 
 Quits the cave, and with faithful Achates^ 
 Than himself no less careful and anxious, 
 Along walking, various discusses 
 
250 VI. 
 
 What comrade the prophetess meant, 
 
 Whose dead body was to be buried; 
 
 When, 16! as they come to the beach, 
 
 Misenus they see lying- dead, 
 
 Of a nobler death well worthy he: 
 
 Than Misenus Eolides none 
 
 With the soul -stirring: blast of the trumpet 
 
 Knew better the battle to kindle; 
 
 Great Hector's companion he 'd been. 
 
 And, distinguished for blowing the trumpet. 
 
 Disting-uished for hurling- the spear, 
 
 In the fight had his station near Hector; 
 
 But when Hector's life had become 
 
 The prey of victorious Achilles, 
 
 The redoubtable champion attached him 
 
 To Dardan Eneas, a patron 
 
 To Hector himself not inferior. 
 
 But now as he chanced to be making 
 
 The sea with his hollow conch ring, 
 
 And in his folly had challenged 
 
 The Gods to a trial of skill, 
 
 Jealous Triton, if triie what they say, 
 
 Came pounce on his rival and drowned him 
 
 In the midst of the foaming sea -breakers. 
 
 So about him they all, 
 And gentle Eneas 
 More than the rest, 
 Raise the loud shout and cvf, 
 And all the while weeping 
 * Make iiaste to perform, 
 Without stop or stay, 
 The commands of the Sibyl, 
 
VI. 257 
 
 And strive toward the sky 
 
 With felled trees to raise hig-h 
 
 The fun ('real i)yre. 
 
 Into the old wood, 
 
 Lofty stalde of wild beasts , 
 
 Away they are g-one; 
 
 Down tumble the pine trees, 
 
 The evergreen oak 
 
 Rings with their axe stroke; 
 
 The trunk of the ash 
 
 With their wedges is rent, 
 
 And split into billets; 
 
 Rolled down from the hills 
 
 To the heap the great Ornus. 
 
 In the midst of such labors 
 Eneas is foremost, 
 And, girded with like tools, 
 Exhorts on his comrades; 
 And , on the immense wood 
 His look forward casting, 
 Ponders thus in his sad heart. 
 And thiis aloud prays: — 
 
 "Might but that g'olden bough 
 Now in this great wood 
 Show itself on its tree, 
 Since but too true, alas! 
 All the prophetess said, 
 Misenus, of thee!" 
 
 Scarce had he the words said 
 When two doves, before 
 
 17 
 
258 
 
 VI. 
 
 His very face, chanced 
 From the sky to come flying-, 
 And lit on the green sward: 
 Then the mightiest hero. 
 With joy recognising 
 His mother's birds, prayed: — 
 
 ^*My guides be ye, 
 If way there be, 
 And through the air 
 Before me gliding 
 Lead me where 
 The rich branch shades 
 The grove's rank soil. 
 And thou, thy son, 
 Goddess mother. 
 In this his hour 
 Of need, forsake not." 
 
 He said; and his step staid, 
 The birds' route observing, 
 And which way to go 
 They might give him the signal. 
 So far as the eye 
 Of one coming after 
 Might still in view hold them, 
 Along they went flying, 
 And feeding between times; 
 Biit to Avernus's 
 in -smelling throat 
 No sooner they come. 
 Than dp lightly rising 
 They glide through the clear air 
 
vr. 259 
 
 And t.'ike tlieir perch there 
 
 Wlierc he so much desired, 
 
 Side by side on the tree 
 
 Through whose bouglis shone contrasted 
 
 The radiance of gold. 
 
 You have seen in the woods, 
 
 How the mistletoe (l)irth 
 
 Of a tree not its own) 
 
 Wraps the taper stem round 
 
 With its young, saffron shoots, 
 
 And piits forth its foliage. 
 
 And florishes fair 
 
 In the cold of the winter: 
 
 So looked the gold bough 
 
 On the shady holm oak, 
 
 In the light breezes so 
 
 The metallic leaf crackled. 
 
 Eneas forthwith grasps 
 
 And eagerly breaks off 
 
 The slow -yielding bough, 
 
 And to prophetic 
 
 Sibylla's home bears it. 
 
 On the shore in the meantime 
 
 The Teiicri no less 
 
 Were bewailing Misenus, 
 
 And on the thankless 
 
 Ashes bestowing 
 
 The last marks of respect. 
 
 And first of oak -billet 
 
 And unctuous torchwood 
 
 They biiild the huge pyre, 
 
 And with dark foliage 
 
 17^ 
 
2G0 VI. 
 
 Its sides intertwine, 
 
 And funereal cypresses 
 
 Set up before it, 
 
 And with arms brigiit and shining- 
 
 Adorn it above. 
 
 And some brazen caldrons 
 
 Of water g-et ready, 
 
 And boil on the fire; 
 
 Then bathe and anoint 
 
 The cold corpse, and over it 
 
 Raise the loud cry; 
 
 On the couch then they hiy out 
 
 The body lamented, 
 
 And over it cast 
 
 The well-known purple quilt. 
 
 Some take on theij^ shoulders 
 The great bier, sad office! 
 Or linder the pyre 
 The torch hold, and turn 
 Their faces aside 
 As their forefathers lised; 
 Or from many a large bowl 
 Pour oil on the pyre, 
 And hiige heaps of viands. 
 And odorous g-iims. 
 And biirn all together. 
 
 But when into ashes 
 The burning- pyre smik, 
 And the flame played no longer. 
 They throw wine on the relics 
 And l)ibulous embers; 
 
vr. 261 
 
 And in a brass casket 
 Coryneiis collects 
 And incloses the bones. 
 Then round the company 
 Three times he carries 
 The piire, Iiistral water, 
 And, as he goes, sprinkles 
 With olive branch Iiicky 
 The light dew upon them, 
 And the last, last words litters. 
 
 But gentle Eneas 
 On top of him places 
 A great mass sepulchral, 
 The hero's arms bearing 
 And trumpet and oar, 
 At the foot of that mountain 
 High in the air towering, 
 Which now has from him 
 The name of Misenus, 
 And will through all ages 
 Perpetuate the name. 
 This done, he proceeds with, 
 And executes quickly, 
 Sibylla's commands. 
 
 By a black lake protected 
 And gloomy woods round , 
 There gaped with a vast 
 Awful yawn a deep cavern 
 All rugg-ed with shingle, 
 Over which without harm 
 Could no flying thing pass, 
 
262 VI. 
 
 Such a steam from its dark jaws 
 Exhaled to heaven's convex; 
 For which reason .the Graii 
 The place called Avernus. 
 
 Here first the priestess 
 Sets four black steers standinj<, 
 And on their foreheads 
 Pours the wine sideways; 
 And plucking the uppermost 
 Hairs 'twixt the horns, 
 Places the firstlings 
 On the fire of the altar, 
 And aloud calls on Hecate 
 In Erebus potential 
 As well as in heaven. 
 And others the jugulars 
 Incise from below, 
 And in wide, shallow saucers 
 Receive the warm blood. 
 To the mother of the Furies, 
 And to her great sister, 
 Eneas himself slays 
 A fleecy, black lamb. 
 And to thee, Proserpine, 
 A barren -wombed heifer; 
 Then to the king Stygian 
 The night altar raises, 
 And an ox's whole carcase 
 Upon its fire places , 
 And over the hot roast 
 Pours the fat oil. 
 
VI. 263 
 
 But, belioJd! at sunrise 
 Tlie ground linder their feet 
 Is beginning- to bellow, 
 And the mountain tops woody 
 To quake to and fro, 
 And through the darkness 
 Dog -bitches are howling; 
 For the Goddess is coming:: — 
 
 "Off! off! ye profane ones," 
 The prophetess cries: 
 "Let not one of you anywhere 
 in the grove linger — 
 But thou, draw thy sword. 
 And set out on thy road; 
 For courage, Eneas, 
 Now, now is the time; 
 For firmness the time 's now." 
 These words having littered, 
 She plunged all infuriate 
 Into the cave's mouth; 
 He, with no timid step, 
 Kept pace with his g^uide. 
 
 Ye Gods who rule over 
 The empire of spirits. 
 And ye, silent Shades, 
 Ye, Chaos and Phlegethon, 
 Regions of wide -brooding 
 Stillness and night, 
 Be the privilege allowed me 
 To tell what I 've heard, 
 Your sanction accorded 
 
204 VI. 
 
 The things to reveal 
 That in darkness are sunk 
 And the depths of the earth. 
 
 In the lonely night, darkling. ■ 
 They went through the shade, 
 Through the realms unsubstantial 
 And mansions of Dis, 
 As one travels in the woods 
 By the crescent moon's twilight, 
 When Jiipiter plunges 
 The sky into shadow, 
 And miirky night strips 
 The world of its color. 
 
 In the vestibule's front, 
 And the very beginning 
 And jaw's edge of Orcus, 
 Remorse has her couch placed 
 With Sorrow beside her, 
 And there pale Diseases 
 And sad Old Age dwell, 
 And Penury vile, 
 And ill- counselling Hunger. 
 And Fear, Death and Toil. 
 Frightful forms to behold, 
 And, Death's cousin, Sleep, 
 And the criminal Passions; 
 And in front, as thou enterest. 
 Death -dealing Warfare, 
 And the Eumenides' 
 iron bedchambers, 
 And Discord insensate. 
 
Vr. 205 
 
 With bloody band tying 
 The snakes of lier hair. 
 
 In the midst an aged ehn 
 Its wide -branching arms 
 Huge and shady spreads out, 
 Under whose every leaf, 
 Vain , inconsequent Dreams , 
 They say, have their dwelUng- 
 And nestle in clusters. 
 Many monsters besides 
 Of beastly forms various 
 About the doors kennel; 
 Centaurs, Gorgons, and Harpies 
 Half- man half-lish Scyllas, 
 Hundred- handed Briareus , 
 Lerna's beast hissing horrid, 
 Flame - belching Chimera , 
 And the three -bodied Shade. 
 
 Here Eneas his sword g-rasps , 
 In sudden alarm. 
 And presents the drawn edge 
 To them coming onward. 
 And seems to be bent 
 (Were it not for the warning 
 His skilled comrade gives him, 
 That they 're nothing but thin 
 Unsubstantial souls flitting 
 Under semblance of bodies) 
 To riish in upon them, 
 And. all to no purpose. 
 Cleave the shadows in sunder. 
 
266 VI. 
 
 From hence the road leads 
 To where Tartarean 
 Acheron's waters 
 In vast muddy wliirlpool 
 Rising- belch over 
 The whole of their sand and lees 
 Into Cocytus. 
 A ferryman horrid 
 Has charge of these waters, 
 Charon, terribly squalid, 
 With eyes of flame staring, 
 And great grisly beard 
 Uncared on chin lying, 
 And sordid garb hanging 
 Tied over his shoulder: 
 Although somewhat aged. 
 The God is still hardy, 
 And wears his years well; 
 And himself with a long pole 
 The boat forward sculling, 
 Himself the sails tending, 
 Across in his rusty craft 
 Ferries his freight. 
 
 With a rush the whole crowd 
 Towai'd the ferry was pouring; 
 Men and matrons were there, 
 And magnanimous heroes. 
 The task of life over, 
 And young lads and maidens. 
 And youths whom their parents 
 Saw on the pile placed ; 
 As numerous as leaves fall 
 
VI. 267 
 
 Detached in tlie forest, 
 111 tlie first chill of autumn; 
 Or as )3irds from the high- deep 
 Toward the land shoaling 
 When tlie cold season routs 
 And to siinny climes sends them 
 Away beyond sea. 
 
 Across to be ferried 
 The foremost were begging-, 
 And in love with the further bank 
 Stretched their hands out; 
 But the boatman severe 
 Now some takes , now others , 
 And some from the strand 
 Removes far and keeps off. 
 
 Then Eneas in wonder 
 And moved by the tumult: — 
 "What means," says, "0 maiden, 
 To the river such concourse? 
 What is it these souls seek? 
 Or from the banks why 
 Are some of them turned back, 
 While some of them over 
 The livid straits row?" 
 To whom briefly thiis 
 The age -stricken priestess: — 
 
 "0 son of Anchises. 
 Gods' offspring- undoubted, 
 Of Styx and Cocytus 
 Thou see'st the deep waters, 
 
268 VI. 
 
 Which no God may swear by 
 
 And not keep his oath. 
 
 Unbiiried, forlorn, 
 
 All the crowd thou see'st here; 
 
 Yon ferryman 's Charon; 
 
 Across sail the biiried. 
 
 These horrible banks 
 
 And this hoarse stream to cross 
 
 No soul is permitted, 
 
 Ere his bones in the tomb rest. 
 
 A hundred years flitting 
 
 They wander these shores round; 
 
 Then at last are admitted 
 
 To visit again 
 
 The so much longed-for waters." 
 
 Stayed his step and stood still 
 The seed of Anchises, 
 Pitying their hard lot. 
 And miich within pondering-; 
 For there he saw sad 
 And without funeral honors 
 Leucasp and the Lycian 
 Crew's captain, Orontes, 
 Both tog'Cther by Auster 
 O'erwhelmed in the waters, 
 And Slink with their ship, 
 As from Troy they sailed over 
 The stormy sea- plain. 
 
 And behold sauntering there 
 Pahniii'us the steersman, 
 Who, while watching- the stars, 
 
Vr. 269 
 
 Had iVvlloii overboard 
 
 From the stern, in the midst 
 
 Of the hite Libyan voyage; 
 
 Whom when he recognised 
 
 Soi'rowing there 
 
 (And not easily either, 
 
 So great was the darkness), 
 
 He thus prior addressed: — 
 
 "What God snatched thee from us 
 
 And mid the sea drowned, 
 
 Paiiniirus, come tell me; 
 
 For in this sole response, 
 
 That thou shouldst to Ausonia's bounds 
 
 Voyage in safety, 
 
 Has Apollo deceived me, 
 
 Wliom aught but truth -speaking 
 
 I found before never." 
 
 "0 commander," he answ^ered, 
 "The curtain that covers 
 The tripod of Phoebus, 
 Has not played thee false; 
 Nor in the sea -plain 
 Has any God drowned me; 
 For while to my post 
 At the helm I kept close, 
 And steered steady along, 
 I fell headlong' down 
 And dragg-ed with me, it chanced, 
 And with great force away 
 From its place tore, the rudder. 
 
270 VI. 
 
 "By the roiig-h seas I swear, 
 I feared Jess for myself, 
 Than lest thy vessel, 
 Deprived of its tackle,- 
 Its steersman o'er))6ard, 
 Should not prove a match 
 For so great, rising- waves. 
 During three stormy nights, 
 Over sea -plains immense, 
 Notus bore me along 
 Through the riide dashing waters; 
 Scarce at last on the fourth day 
 From top of the wave 
 Had I view of Italia. 
 
 "To the land by degrees 
 1 had floated, and now 
 Was just out of danger, 
 When the natives, mistaking me 
 For a rich booty, 
 Fell cruelly on me. 
 Weighed down as I was 
 With my wet clothes, and grapplinj 
 With my hands crooked upon 
 The clifT's rough projections — 
 And now the waves have me, 
 And the winds toss me 
 About on the shore. 
 
 "Biit by the sky's 
 Pleasant light and air, 
 By thine hopeful Iiilus 
 And thy sire I entreat thee, 
 
Vr. 271 
 
 invincible, rescue me 
 
 Out of these trcWibles, 
 
 Or to the Vehne port 
 
 Go, for thou 'rt able, 
 
 And throw earth upon me; 
 
 Or if thou at all may'sfe, 
 
 And thy Goddess -mother 
 
 Points out any way 
 
 (For without the Gods' sanction 
 
 Thou attempt'st not, I think, 
 
 O'er these rivers to sail 
 
 And this great, Stygian flood), 
 
 To a poor wretch thy hand stretch , 
 
 And take me along- with thee 
 
 Over the waters, 
 
 That in death I may find 
 
 At least some place of quiet." 
 
 These words he had said, 
 When the prophetess thus: — 
 "Whence, PaHniirus, 
 This passion so dire? 
 Shalt th(5u to the shore 
 Unpermitted go down? 
 Shalt thou, unentombed, 
 The severe Styx behold, 
 The Eumenides' river? 
 Abandon the hope 
 'That the fates of the Gods 
 May be bent by entreaty; 
 But hear and remember, 
 And from my words take 
 For thine hard case some comfort: 
 
272 . VI. 
 
 Thy neighbours, impelled 
 
 By portents from heaven, 
 
 Shall expiate thy death 
 
 Far and wide through their cities, 
 
 And a tiimulus l)iiild thee, 
 
 And at the tumulus 
 
 Rites anniversary 
 
 Perform in thine honor, 
 
 And the place shall for ever 
 
 Be called Palinurus." 
 
 These words soothed his care, 
 
 And his heart for a little while 
 
 Eased of its sadness; 
 
 That the land bears his name 
 
 Is a pleasant thing to him. 
 
 They proceed therefore on 
 With the journey in hand. 
 And draw near to the river : 
 But when from Styx' waters 
 The boatman beholds them 
 Through the silent wood coming 
 And toward the bank turning^. 
 He thus prior accosts, 
 And begins thus to chide them: — 
 
 "Hallo! whosoever ^ 
 
 Thou art, that in arms 
 Approachest our river, 
 Say wherefore thou com'st — 
 From that very spot say — 
 And stop thy step there. 
 This of Shadows the place is, 
 
VI. 273 
 
 And Sleep, and Nig-ht drowsy; 
 
 Live bodies to ferry 
 
 In Stygian boat over 
 
 Were high misdemeanor; 
 
 And small cause have I 
 
 To be glad that I took 
 
 On tlie ferry Alcides, 
 
 Or Pirithous and Theseus, 
 
 Invincible though they were, 
 
 And of Gods sprung. 
 
 The one soui^ht to imprison 
 
 The keeper Tartarean, 
 
 And dragg-ed him all trembling- 
 
 From the very king-'s throne; 
 
 The others Dis' lady's 
 
 Abduction attempted." 
 
 To which the Amphrysian seer 
 Briefly thus answered: — 
 *'No such plotting- is Iiere 
 (Thou need'st not so fret thee). 
 Nor by these weapons 
 Do we mean force; 
 The huge door- watch for lis 
 May for ever and ever 
 In his cavern keep barking-, 
 To the bloodless Shades' terror; 
 'Cross her uncle's door sill 
 Chaste Proserpina never 
 For lis need set foot. 
 Trojan Eneas, 
 The g-entle and brave, 
 To f!rebus' lowest shades 
 
 18 
 
274 VI. 
 
 Here is descending- 
 
 To visit his sire. 
 
 If that picture of tenderness 
 
 Move thee no jot, 
 
 At least thou 'It acknowledge 
 
 This branch" — and she showed 
 
 The branch, that lay hid 
 
 In the fold of her vest. 
 
 The swell of his ire 
 Subsides from his heart, 
 And no more words there passed 
 But with wonder regarding 
 The reverenced gift, 
 The fated wand, not 
 For so long a time seen, 
 He 'bouts his dark-blue skifT, 
 And draws near the bank; 
 Then making rough clearance 
 Of the souls that were sitting- 
 Along- the long- benches, 
 Throws open the gangway, 
 And into the boat's hull 
 Takes great -sized Eneas: 
 Oppressed by the weight, 
 The stitched wherry groaned, 
 And let in through its leaks 
 A great plash of water; 
 But at last on the far side 
 Sets down without damage 
 In the yellow -green sedge 
 And river slob ligly 
 Both hero and seer. 
 
VI. 275 
 
 In ;i cave rig^ht in front 
 Huge Cerberus lies ('(hiehant, 
 Uncouth monster, and makes 
 Witii iiis triple throat's harkinii 
 The whole realm resound. 
 To him the seer flings 
 (^For she sees on his neck 
 The snakes bristling- already) 
 A cake sweet with honey 
 And drugged with narcotics. 
 Wide opening- his three 
 Ravening- g-iillets, he seizes 
 The gobbet thrown to him, 
 Then on the ground stretches 
 His uncouth chine out, 
 And hiige and relaxed lying 
 Fills the whole cave. 
 Eneas, the guard 
 Of the passage entranced, 
 Makes good his entrance, 
 And with light foot behind leaves 
 The bank of that flood 
 That is never recrossed. 
 
 Immediately lieard 
 In the entrance the voices 
 Of children's souls wailhig, 
 Which, ere they had tasted 
 Of sweet life their share, 
 A dark day snatched away 
 From the breast, and consigned 
 To a premature grave. 
 
 18^ 
 
276 VI. 
 
 Beside these were those 
 Who to die were condemned 
 On a fnlse accusation. 
 (Nor were the places 
 At random appointed, 
 Or without judge's sentence; 
 But president Minos 
 Shakes lip in the lirn 
 The ballots for judges, 
 And assembles together 
 The stilly souls all. 
 And makes inquisition 
 Respecting the crimes 
 That in life they 've committed.) 
 
 Next to these dwell in sadness 
 Those who the light loathed, 
 And though guilty of no crime 
 Laid hands on themselves, 
 And their lives threw away. 
 How gladly they 'd poverty 
 Now bear, and hard, toil, 
 Above in the ether I 
 But the Fates stand opposed, 
 The hateful wave binds them, 
 And nme times wound round then) 
 Severe Styx's waters 
 Cut ofT their return. 
 
 Not far hence are shown 
 On every side spreading 
 The Sorrowful Plains 
 (For by that name they 're called) 
 
vr. 
 
 Where, linder the cover 
 
 Of myrtle groves, wander 
 
 In secret paths hidden 
 
 Those whom unrelenthig- 
 
 And criiel love's plague 
 
 To the core has corroded; 
 
 Not even m death's self 
 
 1)0 their sorrows forsake them. 
 
 Here he sees Eriphyle 
 
 Displaying in sadness 
 
 The wounds which her son's 
 
 Cruel hand had inflicted; 
 
 He sees here Pasiphae, 
 
 Phedra, and Procris, 
 
 And Evadne, and Laodanjia, 
 
 And sometime male Ceneus 
 
 Now female again 
 
 And to his first sex 
 
 By Fate's will returned. 
 
 And there in the midst of them 
 Fresh from her wound, 
 In the great forest wandered 
 Phoenician Dido: 
 Whom soon as Troy's hero, 
 Not far from her standing, 
 Beheld through the shadow, 
 And recognised dim. 
 As one who the new moon 
 Sees through the clouds rising, 
 Or imagines he sees, 
 He wept, and with tenderness 
 Thus to her said : — 
 
278 VI. 
 
 "The news then was triie, 
 
 unfortunate Dido, 
 That thou laidst violent 
 Hands on thyself; 
 And I have, alas! been 
 The cause of thy death — 
 But 1 swear to thee, queen, 
 By the lights of the sky. 
 And the Gods above dwelling-, 
 And by whatever faith 
 Reigns underground, 
 
 'Twas against my will sore 
 
 From thy coasts I departed. 
 
 Those same Gods' commands, 
 
 Which now force me to travel 
 
 Through these shadowy places 
 
 Of hoar desolation 
 
 And this night profound, 
 
 Imperious compelled me; 
 
 Nor could I have thought 
 
 Thou hadst felt, at my parting, 
 
 A pang so severe. 
 
 Stay — withdraw not — whom flee'st? 
 
 'Tis the last time by Fate 
 
 1 'm allowed to address thee." 
 
 Her burning ire's scowl 
 Eneas with such words 
 And siich tears was soothing; 
 But away she turned from him, 
 And on the ground m()tionless 
 Kept her eyes fixed , 
 And no more her look altered 
 
Vr. 270 
 
 For all he could say 
 
 Than if 'twere a liard 
 
 Flinty rock that stood tliere 
 
 Or tall cliff Marpessian; 
 
 At last she turns off short, 
 
 And Uings herself spiteful 
 
 Into the shrubbery's 
 
 Covert umbrageous, 
 
 Where Sicheus, her former spouse, 
 
 Renders her love for love, 
 
 And with her sorrows 
 
 Grieves sympathetic. 
 
 Moved by the sad case. 
 
 And weeping, Eneas 
 
 Follows her pitying- 
 
 For some time afar off; 
 
 On his appointed way 
 
 Then he proceeds. 
 
 And now they at last reach 
 Those distant retreats 
 Which brave warriors inhabit. 
 Here he comes across Tydeus, 
 And Adrastus' pale ghost, 
 And Parthenopeus 
 That warrior renowned. 
 And deep was his groan 
 When he saw the long muster 
 Of the Dardanidae 
 Fallen in battle, 
 Whom in the world above 
 He had so mourned — 
 When he saw Glaucus tliere, 
 
280 VI. 
 
 And Thersilochiis, Medoii, 
 And Antenor's three sons, 
 And Polyphoetes, 
 Ceres' priest holy, 
 And Ideus who still had 
 His chariot beside him , 
 And still held his arms. 
 
 Thick round him the souls stand 
 Both on right hand and left, 
 And, not contented 
 With seeing him once, 
 Love to linger alongside 
 And measure steps with him. 
 And ask why he comes. 
 
 Biit the battalions 
 Agamemnonian , 
 And chiefs of the Danai", 
 When they see through the shadow 
 The hero's arms gleaming, 
 Some in great trepidation 
 And fear turn their backs, 
 As toward their ships ere while 
 Their flight they directed; 
 And some, making eflbrt 
 To raise a great shout, 
 Scarcely litter a squeak. 
 
 Here, with his whole person 
 (His face both and limbs) 
 All criiclly mangled, 
 Deiphobus, Priam's son, 
 
VI. 281 
 
 Also he sees: 
 
 Both his hands they are lopped, 
 
 Both his ears they are cropped, 
 
 And with a wound 
 
 Ignominious shorn off 
 
 His nose from his face. 
 
 He knew him, though hardly, 
 
 As cowering he stood there, 
 
 And striving to cover 
 
 His punishment dire: 
 
 And of his own motion 
 
 Saliited him thiis 
 
 In accents well known: — ■ 
 
 "0 warrior Deiphobus, 
 Teiicer's blood lofty. 
 To do thee this spite 
 Who could find in his heart? 
 Or who had the power? 
 The report to me came 
 That, on that final night, 
 After thou hadst tired thyself 
 Killing Pelasgi, 
 Thou hadst perished on top 
 Of a great heap of slaughter, 
 A cenotaph to thee 
 1 therefore erected 
 On the seacoast Uhoetean, 
 And thrice in a loud voice 
 Called on thy Manes; 
 Thy name and thine arms 
 Mark the place for thine own. 
 In vain 1 sought for thee, friend. 
 
282 VI. 
 
 At my departure, 
 
 In order to lay thy bones 
 
 In their own land." 
 
 Priamides answered: — 
 "Thou hast left nought undone; 
 To Deiphobus' ghost 
 Thou hast paid, my friend. 
 All the fiineral honors. 
 My destiny 'twas. 
 And the wickedness deadly 
 Of the Laconian, 
 That in these evils plunged me; 
 These tokens are hers ; 
 For how in the midst 
 Of false joys we were passing- 
 That last night thou know'st 
 And must too well remember, 
 When down on high Pergamus 
 Came with a bound 
 That fatal horse pregnant 
 With armed men of war, 
 She, linder pretence 
 Of a Bacchanal dance, 
 Leading round in procession 
 The " Evoe " - shouting 
 Matrons of Phrygia, 
 And high in the midst of them 
 Holding- a hiige torch. 
 From the top of the citadel 
 Signalled the D;inai. 
 Fxhausted with cares. 
 And with drowsiness weighed down 
 
VI. 283 
 
 1 had, at that moment, 
 Witlidrawn to my liickless 
 Connubial bedcliamber, 
 Whore as I lay sunk 
 In a deep and sweet sleep 
 (Placid death's very image), 
 My notable spouse, 
 Having- first from the house 
 Removed all my arms, 
 And from my pillow 
 xMy trusty sword stolen , 
 Throws wide open the doors 
 And calls in Menelaus, 
 Expecting, no doiibt, 
 By a boon so important 
 Conferred on her lover, 
 To efface from his memory 
 Her former misdeeds. 
 
 "But why a long story? 
 They break into my chamber, 
 Eohdes with them. 
 That inciter to ill — 
 Ye Gods, to the Gniii 
 Requite like for like, 
 If 1 ask for no more 
 Than a jiist retribution, 
 And not for revenge. 
 But come, it 's Lhy turn now 
 To say what chance hither 
 Hath brought thee alive; 
 Have the Gods hither warned thee? 
 Or hast Ihou thy course lost 
 
284 VI. 
 
 When on the sea sailing? 
 Or what other accident 
 Drives thee to visit 
 These drear, overcast regions, 
 These sunless abodes?" 
 
 While thiis they conversed , 
 Aurora already 
 
 With her rosy four -horse team 
 Had made 'cross the sky 
 Half her voyage ethereal; 
 And they might have perhaps 
 Whiled away in like manner 
 All the period allotted, 
 Had not comrade Sibyl 
 Thus briefly admonished: — 
 
 "Night comes on apace, 
 Eneas, while we 
 The hours pass in weeping. 
 This is the spot where 
 The road into two splits; 
 The right hand road 's ours, 
 Which by great Dis's towers 
 Conducts to Elysium: 
 The left hand 's the penal road, 
 Way of the wicked 
 To Tartarus kindless." 
 Deiphobus answered: — 
 "Be not angry, great priestess; 
 1 '11 part from ye here 
 And to darkness return 
 And fill up the number. 
 
VI. 285 
 
 On, on, our pride, 
 And tliy hettcM* fates lise." 
 No word more lie litlered, . 
 But turned as he spoke. 
 
 Looking round on a sudden, 
 Eneas beholds, 
 At the foot of a rock 
 On the left, a wide fortress. 
 Round whose triple wall rapid 
 Tartarean Phlegethon 
 Its torrent of flames pours 
 And loud rumbling stones. 
 So solidly built 
 Of adamant pillars 
 Its huge gate in front, 
 That of mortals no power. 
 No power of immortals 
 To force it were able : 
 High to the air rises 
 The gate tower of iron, 
 Where, with bloody pall girt. 
 Sits Tisiphone sleepless. 
 And watches the vestibule 
 Both day and night. 
 Groans are heard from within, 
 And whips' cruel cracking. 
 And iron chains clanking. 
 
 Eneas stopped short 
 And to the great noise 
 Listened afTrighted: — 
 ''What punishments these, 
 
280 VI. 
 
 declare to me, mniden, 
 Or for what crimes inflicted? 
 What great wail is this, 
 Rising high to the air?" 
 Then the prophetess thus: — 
 
 "Renowned chief of the Teucri 
 Over tliat wicked threshold 
 Must no blameless foot pass; 
 But Hecate herself, 
 When over the groves 
 Of Avernus she set me, 
 All the penalties taught me 
 Of the divine wrath, 
 And through the whole led me. 
 
 "Inflexibly rigid 
 And absolute rules 
 Gnossian Rhadamanth here, 
 Tries the case, and awards 
 The rogues their chastisement, 
 Compelling them first 
 To confess the deeds done 
 Above in the world, 
 The atonement for which 
 (Inly pluming themselves 
 On the silly deceit) 
 ^They had piit off till death, 
 And until 'twas too late. 
 
 "With avenging whip ready, 
 Insulting Tisiphone 
 Instantly falls on 
 
VI. 287 
 
 And l.'vshes the culprits, 
 And lier twisted snakes ;'it them 
 Tln'iists with her left liand, 
 And her fell sisterhood 
 Calls to come forward. 
 
 * 
 
 "Then at last, with a horrible 
 Jar of their hinges, 
 The cursed gates are opened: 
 Discern'st w'hat a g-uard 
 In the vestibule watches? 
 Discern'st at the door 
 What a figure keeps sentry? 
 More fell within seated 
 A Hydra gapes hideous 
 With fifty dark swallows, 
 And Tartarus itself 
 With its headlong abysm 
 Down below the Shades stretches 
 Twice as deep as the height 
 When from earth thou look'st lip 
 Toward ethereal Olympus. 
 
 "Here down to the bottom 
 With thunderl)olts hiirled, 
 Roll groveling the Titans, 
 The old brood of Terra. 
 Here too I had sight of 
 Those bodies gigantic, 
 The twain Aloidae, 
 Who attempted the great heaven 
 To take by assault, 
 
288 VI. 
 
 And from his realm above 
 I)()wn to thrust Jove. 
 
 "Here too, underg-oing- 
 His punishment cruel, 
 Salmoneus I saw, 
 Who, divine honors claiming, 
 And thinking to imitate 
 Jiipiter's lightnings 
 And thundering- Olympus , 
 Drove in ovation 
 
 With torch round him brandished 
 In four-in-hand chariot 
 Through Elis' chief city, 
 And through the midst 
 Of the Graian peoples, 
 And, in his folly. 
 Had fain made the clatter • 
 Of horny -hoofed horses, 
 And chariot of brass 
 On brass -viaduct rolling-, 
 Pass for the unparalleled 
 Thundercloud volley. 
 But the Father almighty 
 From among the thick clouds 
 Flung- at him his missile 
 (No smoky lamp was it 
 Nor turpentine torch), 
 And with a hideous whirl 
 Dashed him down headlong, 
 
 ''Here too to be seen 
 Was omni- productive Earth's 
 
VT. 289 
 
 Foster -son Tityos, 
 
 Whose body lies spread out 
 
 Over nine entire acres, 
 
 And housed under whose tall chest 
 
 A hiig-e, hideous vulture 
 
 With hooked beak sits griibbing^ 
 
 For tit -bits his vitals, 
 
 And keeps ever cropping,*- 
 
 His liver immortal, 
 
 Which, as fast as cropped, bourgeons, 
 
 And breeds him new torment, 
 
 Incessant, for ever. 
 
 *'0f the Lapithae why 
 Or of Pirithoiis 
 Need I make mention , 
 Or of Ixion, 
 
 Right over wiiom hangs 
 A dark, flinty rock 
 Ever ready to fall down 
 And, as it were, falling? 
 On shining gold feet 
 Rest the high, genial sofas ; 
 With magnificence royal 
 Before their eyes spread out 
 The sumptuous repast; 
 But the chief of the Furies 
 Starts lip from a sofa, 
 And, with thundering voice. 
 And firebrand uplifted, 
 Forbids touch the viands. 
 
 19 
 
200 VT. 
 
 "Here those who while Uving 
 IJave hated their brother, 
 Or raised hand against parent, 
 Or cheated their client, 
 And those who in privacy 
 Over a hoard 
 Of saved money pored, 
 And for relatives set not 
 Some portion aside 
 (And these form the chief crowd), 
 And for adultery 
 Those who w^ere slain, 
 And those perjured slaves 
 Who against their liege lords 
 Raised arm contumacious — 
 All those are shut lip here, 
 Abiding their torment. 
 
 "Ask me not to inform thee 
 What tortures they siifFer, 
 Or how in particular 
 Each one is punished; 
 Some a huge rock are rolling; 
 To a wheel's upright spokes 
 Legs and arms some are tied; 
 There sits hapless Theseus 
 And there will sit ever; 
 And from the depth 
 Of his misery Phleg-yas 
 Calls aloud througli the darkness 
 To all men his warning: — 
 "Take a lesson from me. 
 And hold not too lightly 
 
VI. 291 
 
 The Gods wlio coiiiinand you 
 Be jus( in f/our dcaUnf/s \ " 
 
 ••ThisjDne here for gold 
 llis fatherland sold 
 And placed linder the thrall 
 Of a powerful master; 
 And on the walls venally 
 Posted new laws, 
 And from the walls venally 
 Old laws took down: 
 With a siiit against nature 
 His daughter's bedchamber 
 That other invaded: 
 Every one of them dared, 
 And daring achieved, 
 Some enormity hideous. 
 No, not with a hundred tongues, 
 Not with a hundred mouths, 
 And voice of iron, 
 Could 1 describe all 
 Their crimes' various forms, 
 Or enumerate the modes all 
 In which tliey are punished." 
 
 So said Phoebus' aged priestess 
 And added: — "Come, haste; 
 Let 's get over the ground , 
 And piit the last hand 
 To our gift's presentation; 
 For I see plainly yonder 
 The Cyclops -forged towers. 
 And opposite our face stands 
 
 PJ* 
 
292 VI. 
 
 The gateway's arched portal, 
 Where our orders command us 
 This gift to deposit." 
 
 • 
 When thiis she had said, 
 They proceed side by siJe 
 Along the dark way 
 That remained intervening; 
 And when to the doors come, 
 Eneas goes in, 
 
 And with fresh water sprinkles 
 His body, and hangs up 
 The branch in the entrance. 
 
 These things at last done, 
 And the due compliment 
 Paid to the Goddess, 
 They reach the delightful 
 And green grassy w^oodlands 
 Where the Blessed reside. 
 Here a wider -spread ether 
 Invests all the landscape 
 With brillianter hiies; 
 They 've a siin of their own, 
 And stars different from ours. 
 On the grass in gymnastics 
 Some siipple their limbs, 
 And on the tawny sand 
 Sportively wrestle: 
 And some of them sing songs, 
 And some of them dance; 
 And, dressed in his long vest, 
 The Thracian bard to them 
 
VJ. 203 
 
 Trills the changes melodious 
 Of Music's seven sounds, 
 And now with his fingers 
 Along the chords sweeps, 
 Now with ivory quill. 
 
 Here too are those warriors 
 In better years born , 
 That old stock of Teiicer 
 So lovely to see. 
 Those magnanimous heroes, 
 AssiiracuS; llus , 
 And Dardanus, Troy's founder. 
 On their arms from a distance 
 And shadowy chariots 
 With wonder he gazes; 
 In the ground stand their spears fixed; 
 Their horses unyoked 
 Graze all over the plain : 
 Beneath the earth buried ,, 
 They take as much pleasure 
 In chariots and arms, 
 And the caring- and fattening 
 Of sleek shining steeds, 
 As they took when alive. 
 
 And 16 ! he beholds 
 On the right hand and left 
 Along the grass stretched 
 Others nourishment taking, 
 And singing glad Peans 
 In ch()rus amidst 
 The odorous laurel groves, 
 
291 VI. 
 
 Wlicnce Eridanus springs — 
 That river which rolls 
 Through the lipper world's forest 
 Such a vast flood of waters. 
 
 Here the patriot handful 
 That bled for their country, 
 And those who were holy priests 
 While they were living, 
 And those hearts of g-entleness, 
 Bards whose discoursings 
 Were worthy of Phoebus, 
 And all those who had added 
 To civilisation 
 By inventions in arts, 
 And all those whose dcservings 
 Had made them remembered, 
 Wear round their temples 
 The snowy white fillet: 
 Whom, as they flocked round them 
 Sibylla addressed thus, 
 And chiefly Museus, 
 About whom was standing- 
 And lip to him looking' 
 A g-reat crowd of persons 
 x411 of whom he o'ertopped 
 By the height of his shoulders: — 
 "0 say, happy souls, 
 And thou, excellent bard. 
 In what quarter 's Anchiscs, 
 Or where to be found? 
 For his sake we 've come. 
 
VI. 295 
 
 Alul across Erebus' 
 Great rivers sailed." 
 
 To whom tlien in few words 
 Thus answered the liero: — 
 "^'o fixed abodes bind us; 
 We inliabit the grove's 
 Shady coverts, or dwell 
 In i'resh, watered meadows, 
 And on rivers' banks. 
 But ye — if so please ye — 
 Cross over this ridge, 
 And on the easy path 
 At once 1 '11 set ye." 
 He said; the way led; 
 And from above showed them 
 The fair, smiling plains: 
 Then they left the hill top. 
 
 Now it chanced, sire Anchises, 
 Far within a green valley's 
 Inclosure, was passing 
 Before him in miister 
 Those souls who should shortly 
 Ascend to the light, 
 And a census was taking 
 Of the whole number 
 Of his dear offspring, 
 And carefully studying 
 The heroes' exploits, 
 Their fates, manners and fortunes: 
 But through the grass ti'iward him 
 As soon as he saw 
 
296 VI. 
 
 Eneas advancing, 
 
 He stretched out both hands 
 
 In a transport of joy, 
 
 And, while tears his cheeks coursed down. 
 
 In these words addressed him: — 
 
 "And hast thou at last come, 
 And thy fiUal affection 
 (As I well knew it would) 
 The way's hardships conquered? 
 And am I permitted 
 To look in thy face, son, 
 And hear thy known voice, 
 And speak with thee as wont? 
 So indeed I considered 
 And thought it would be, 
 Counting over the time. 
 And I find I 've been right. 
 Escaped from what dangers, 
 My son, thou com'st to me! 
 After how many tossings 
 On land and on water 
 I have thee here safe! 
 How greatly I feared 
 Lest that Libyan kingdom 
 Should work thee some harm!" 
 
 "Thy ghost," thus he answered, 
 "Thy sad ghost, sire, 
 Several times manifested. 
 Has hither impelled me: 
 My ships in the Tyrrhene sea 
 Stand at their moorings. 
 
VI. 297 
 
 Give me, give me, 
 Thy right hand, sire, 
 And from my embracings 
 Withdraw thyself not." 
 The tears, as he thiis said. 
 Streamed fast down his face; 
 His arms round the shade's neck 
 He tlu'ice strove to throw; 
 Thrice from his frustrate grasp, 
 Light as the winds, 
 As a fleeting dream swift, 
 The shadow escaped. 
 
 In the meantime Eneas 
 Has seen, in a valley 
 Indenting the highland, 
 A woodland secluded, 
 And shrubberies riistUng, 
 And the river of Lethe 
 Close gliding along 
 By the placid abode. . 
 On every side round 
 Innumerous peoples 
 And nations were flitting. 
 As thick as you 've seen, 
 In the fine summer season, 
 Bees in the meads thronging 
 About the white lilies, 
 And settling down on 
 The flowers variegated. 
 And with their buzzing hum 
 Filling the plain. 
 
208 YI. 
 
 Eneas, in ignorance, 
 Starts at the sudden sight, 
 And asks what the cause is, 
 M'liat river that yonder, 
 And who are the people 
 That fill all its banks 
 In such thick, swarming numbers. 
 Then father Anchises: — 
 "Those souls to whom diie 
 Second bodies by Fate, 
 Here, at the care- easing 
 River of Lethe, 
 Drink long oblivion 
 Of their first bodies. 
 This long time I 've wished 
 To point these out to thee 
 Here in thy presence, 
 And with thee count over 
 The tale of my offspring, 
 That no less than mine 
 May be thy exultation 
 That Italy 's found." 
 
 "And can it be thought, sire, 
 There are any souls 
 That are hence to ascend 
 To the sky, and once more 
 The dull body enter? 
 What dire yearning is this 
 Of the wretches for light?" 
 "1 '11 tell thee the whole, son, 
 And not in doubt leave thee," 
 
VI. 2«)0 
 
 Thus Anchises the word took, 
 And cxphiined all m order: — 
 "111 the sky and tlic earth 
 And tlie liquid sea -plains, 
 The moon's shining- globe, 
 And the planets Titanian, 
 There dwells from the first 
 An intelligent mind, 
 A spirit internal, 
 Diffused through the members 
 And setting in motion 
 The whole, mighty mass.. 
 Hence derived are the Uves 
 Of man, beast and bird, 
 And of the strange monsters 
 Produced underneath 
 The sea's marble surface. 
 In the embryo of each 
 Is a principle fiery 
 Descended from heaven 
 Although dulled and impaired 
 By a frail, earthy mould. 
 And a framework of flesh, 
 And limbs that must perisli: 
 From this clayey admixture 
 Their fears and desires come. 
 Their pains and their joys,* 
 And that, shut lip 
 In a dark prison's gloom, 
 Tliey cast no look back 
 On the sky's radiant iig^lit. 
 Not even with the hist 
 Closing day of their lives 
 
300 VI. 
 
 Does the bad wholly leave them. 
 
 Nor quite depart from them 
 
 The plagues of the flesh, 
 
 For much of the ill 
 
 Has needs grown inveterate, 
 
 And marvellous deep 
 
 The ingrain of long habit: 
 
 They are therefore tormented, 
 
 And suffer the pains 
 
 Of their ancient misdeeds; 
 
 Some forms unsubstantial 
 
 On crosses are spread out, 
 
 And hiing to the winds; 
 
 The deep dye of sin 
 
 Out of others is washed 
 
 Under vast floods of water, 
 
 Or biirnt out with fire; 
 
 And then when at last, 
 
 In long process of time, 
 
 The deep stain is expunged, 
 
 And the essence ethereal, 
 
 The efTluence fiery, 
 
 Left pure and unblemished, 
 
 And each one his own 
 
 Special Manes has suffered, 
 
 Into ample Elysium 
 
 We»'re sent to range free, 
 
 And some few to stay 
 
 And the glad fields inhabit. 
 
 But all these thou see'st here, 
 
 When a fill I thousand years 
 
 Have completely rolled round, 
 
 The God sunmions forth 
 
VT. aoi 
 
 In these niii^hty n limbers 
 To the river of Lethe, 
 That of past things obHvions 
 They may become wilHng- 
 To re-enter the flesh 
 And return to the world." 
 
 Anchises these words said. 
 And into the midst 
 Of the crowded and buzzing- 
 Assembly his son brought, 
 And with him the Sibyl, 
 And a tumulus mounted 
 From whence he might see 
 And have a front view of 
 The long array coming: — 
 
 "Come now and I 'II tell thee 
 What fates shall be thine, 
 And what glory shall follow 
 The son of the Dardan, 
 What a race of Italians 
 From him is to spring, 
 What ill ds trio us souls 
 Mounting lip to the world 
 Shall call us forefathers. 
 
 "Thou see'st yonder that youth 
 On the sceptre- wand leaning; 
 He 's the first for the light; 
 Of the mixed blood Italian 
 He to th' ethereal air 
 First shall ascend. 
 
302 VI. 
 
 And become Silviiis 
 
 (That well-known name ADoan), 
 
 Thy too late beg-otten 
 
 And posthmnous son, 
 
 Whom thy consort Lavinia 
 
 In thine old age shall bear thee, 
 
 And in the woods rear up ; 
 
 A king he 's himself, 
 
 And the father of kings, 
 
 And through him descending 
 
 Our line shall rule lordly 
 
 O'er Longa Alba. 
 
 '0> 
 
 "And next him see Procas, 
 The Trojan stock's pride, 
 And Niimitor, Capys, 
 And, glorious no less 
 For martial achievements 
 Than for all gentler virtues, 
 Silvius, thy namesake, 
 If to Silvius Eneas 
 Should ever descend 
 The sceptre of Alba. 
 What gallant youths they! 
 See what strength they display! 
 And how with the patriot 
 Citizen's oakleaves 
 Their temples are shaded! 
 These are they who the cities 
 Fidenae shall biiild, 
 And Nomentum and Gabii; 
 Who shall place, on the hills 
 Of Colhitia, the castle; 
 
VT. 303 
 
 And of Pometii 
 Lay the foundations. 
 And Iniii Ciistruni 
 And Bola and Cora; 
 All then noted places. 
 Now lands without name. 
 
 "Aye; and Romulus, Mars' son — 
 Of the blood of Assaracus 
 By Ilia his mother — 
 Shall accompany his g-randsire. 
 See there on his head 
 How the Sire's self already 
 Has set the twain crests, 
 Has marked him even here 
 With the emblem of honor 
 He 's to wear in the world. 
 Behold, son, the man 
 By whose auspices led 
 That chivalrous Rome 
 Shall acquire a dominion 
 With Earth coextensive, 
 A spirit for which 
 Not Olympus too lofty, 
 And enclose with one city's wall 
 Citadels seven: 
 Happy mother of heroes ! 
 Not more blest than she, 
 Drives through Phrygia's cities 
 Turret - crowned Berecynthia , 
 The Gods' happy mother, 
 Whose g-lad arms embrace 
 A hundred grandchildren. 
 
304 VI. 
 
 Divinities all, 
 
 All installed in high heaven. 
 
 "Now hitherward bend 
 Both thine eyes, and behold 
 Thine own nation of Romans : 
 'Tis Cesar thou here see'st, 
 And the whole stock of Cesars 
 Who are yet to come forth 
 In liilus's line, 
 The great firmament linder. 
 This, this is the man, 
 The promised man this, 
 Of whom thou 'st so 6ft heard - 
 That Cesar Augustus, 
 The God Cesar's son. 
 Who shall bring- back to Latium 
 And to the fields erewhile 
 Reig-ned over by Saturn 
 The era of gold; 
 
 Who his sway shall stretch over 
 Garamantes and Indi, 
 And what lands soever 
 Lie beyond the ecliptic 
 And path of the planets, 
 Where sky- propping Atlas 
 Spins round on his shoulder 
 The firmament studded 
 With bright -burning- stars. 
 Of the advent of this man 
 Even now the realms Caspian 
 And land of Meotis 
 Hear with a shudder 
 
VI. 305 
 
 In the Gods' answers; 
 
 And with consternation 
 
 Are seized even ah-eady 
 
 The seven mouths of Nile. 
 
 Not even Alcides, 
 
 What thoug-h he transfixed 
 
 The brass- footed doe, 
 
 To Erymanth's woodlands 
 
 What though he gave peace, 
 
 And with his bow's twang 
 
 Made all Lerna tremble — 
 
 Not even conquering Bacchus, 
 
 Who from Nysa's high top 
 
 Drove in tiger -drawn chariot 
 
 With reins twined with vineleaves. 
 
 Equal space of land compassed: 
 
 And do we doubt still 
 
 To add to our former deeds 
 
 Fresh deeds of prowess? 
 
 Or shall fear forbid us 
 
 To plant a firm foot 
 
 In the land of Ausonia?" 
 
 "But with brows decked with laurel 
 Who is that yonder 
 I see sacrificing-?" 
 "By his grey locks I know him, 
 And by his beard grisly, 
 That king- of the Romans 
 Who shall first set the city 
 On law's firm foundation. 
 To his great government 
 From her soil sterile 
 
 20 
 
306 VI. 
 
 Diminutive Ciires 
 
 Shall send him commissioned. 
 
 "Next to him succeeds Tiillus, 
 Who shall break the inactive 
 Repose of his country, 
 And to arms call the warrior -bands, 
 Now for some time 
 Unaccustomed to triumphs, 
 And flagging- in spirit. 
 Close after whom follows 
 Rather vain -glorious Ancus, 
 To whom to be fanned 
 By the popular breath 
 Even now 's but too pleasing. 
 
 "Dost thou wish me to show thee 
 The monarchs Tarquinian, 
 And the proud soul of Brutus 
 His country's avenger, 
 And the Fasces he wriing 
 From the grasp of the tyrant 
 And restored to the people? 
 This is that Brutus 
 To whom shall be first 
 Committed the consulship 
 And the fell axes — 
 That unhappy sire 
 Who for fair freedom's sake 
 Shall call forth his own sons 
 To suffer the penalty 
 Diie to the new crime 
 Of war 'gainst one's country. 
 
VI. 307 
 
 Let posterity talk 
 Of the deed as they will, 
 Tlie patriot's unbounded 
 Passion for glory 
 Will bear all before it. 
 
 "Aye, and far off behold too 
 The Deeii" and Drdsi, 
 And wielding the headsman's axe 
 Rigorous Torquatus , 
 And Camillus home bringing 
 The standards recovered. 
 
 "But those souls whom thou see'st there 
 In equal arms brilliant — 
 Concordant souls now 
 Whilst kept down under night — 
 Ah, what wars they shall wage, 
 What murderous battle, 
 Against one another, 
 Let them daylight but reach! 
 The father-in-law, 
 To confront the son, comes 
 From Monoecus' Arx down 
 And his rampart of Alps: 
 With all the array 
 Of his armament eastern 
 The son-in-law meets him. 
 But do not, my young friends, 
 To so bitter battle, 
 Ah, do not inure ye! 
 Against fatherland's bowels, 
 Ah, tiirn not your might! 
 
308 VI. 
 
 And thou, mine own blood, 
 Be the first to leave off — 
 Thou Olympus -sprung scion, 
 The sword from thy hand 
 Fhng thou away first. 
 
 "Yonder 's he that returning 
 All glorious, victorious. 
 From the taking of Corinth, 
 And rout of the Achivi, 
 Shall to the liigh Capitol 
 Drive his war -triumph. 
 That other shall Argos 
 And Agamemnonian 
 Mycenae o'ertiirn, 
 And from an Eacides, 
 Lineal descendant 
 Of warrior Achilles, 
 Exact retribution 
 For his foresires of Troy 
 And the foul desecration 
 Of the fane of Minerva. 
 
 "Who 'd leave thee behind him 
 Unmentioned, Cossus? 
 Or thee, mighty Cato? 
 The stock of the Gracchi 
 Who 'd leave unmentioned? 
 Or war's pair of thunderbolts, 
 Libya's misfortune , 
 The Scipiadae twain? 
 Or Fabricius, on small means 
 Commanding the deference 
 
VI. 30ft V 
 
 Paid to the rich? ^^ | 
 
 Or thee, Serranus, '^ 
 
 The plough- furrow sowing? 
 
 But whither away 
 
 So hurry me tired, 
 
 Ye family Fabian? 
 
 Maximus thou 'rt he, 
 
 That sing-Ie one thou, 
 
 Who by procrastination 
 
 Restor'st us our lost state. 
 
 "Other nations, 1 doubt not, 
 Will work brass with softer, 
 More l)reathing- expression, 
 And out of the marble 
 Draw features more life - like, 
 Will plead causes better. 
 And with the tracing rod 
 Draw more correctly 
 The great heavenly circles, 
 And the rising stars mark — 
 But, remember it ever, 
 'Tis thy part, Roman, 
 To govern the nations; 
 To spare the submissive, 
 To war down the haughty, 
 And impose upon all 
 Modes and habits of peace." 
 So said sire Anchises, 
 And as wondering they looked on. 
 These words besides added: — 
 "See how with the Spolia 
 Opima distinguished , 
 
3i0 VI, 
 
 And all overtopping-, 
 
 Victorious Marcellus 
 
 Comes marching on yonder! 
 
 In the midst of the g-reat 
 
 Gallic turmoil and tiimuit 
 
 This man shall the Roman state 
 
 Hold lirm and steady, 
 
 And under his horse's hoofs 
 
 Tread Carthaginian 
 
 And rebel of Gaul; 
 
 And to father Quirinus 
 
 Suspend the Spoils Royal, 
 
 The third that were ever 
 
 By Roman arm won." 
 
 And here said Eneas — 
 For he saw with him going- 
 A youth of rare beauty 
 And brilliantly armed, 
 But his brow far from chearful, 
 And downcast his eyes — 
 "Who 's that yonder, sire. 
 That g-oes with him as comrade? 
 His son perhaps is he? 
 Or one of the great stock 
 Of his descendants? 
 How his comrades buzz round him! 
 What a host he 's himself! 
 But about his head flittinj^ 
 Dark Night spreads her sad shade." 
 Then with g^iishing tears thiis 
 Replied father Anchises: — 
 
VT. 31 J 
 
 "Into thy family's 
 (Jreat grief, my son, 
 make not inquiry; 
 The Fates shall but show 
 This young man to the world, 
 And then away bear him. 
 Too powerful, ye Gods, 
 Had become in your eyes 
 The breed of the Romans, 
 Had ye given them for good and all 
 Presents like this. 
 
 How that Campus shall groan there 
 Beside Mars' great city! 
 What funereal rites, sire 
 Tiberine, thou shalt see, 
 As by that newly -raised 
 Tumulus thou glidest! 
 Never of llian stock 
 Boy shall be born 
 That shall raise in his Latin 
 Grandfathers such hope; 
 Of no other son 
 Shall the country of Romulus 
 Make so loud boast. 
 Ah, mourn for him, mourn! 
 Had he lived, he 'd been gentle, 
 A man of his word 
 Like the men of old times, 
 With ever unconquered 
 Right arm in the battle. 
 What foe had unpunished 
 Withstood his footcharge. 
 Or the rush of his foaming steed 
 
312 VI. 
 
 Raked with the rowels ! 
 Ah ! find but the means 
 To break through thy hard fates^ 
 
 youth to be pitied, 
 And thou 'It be Marcelius. 
 
 "Give me lilies in handfuls; 
 Let me scatter around 
 Flowers purpling- and bright: 
 What though vain be the office, 
 
 1 '11 with a profusion 
 Of such gifts at least 
 
 Heap the soul of my grandson." 
 
 In the broad, airy kiwns 
 So they wander about, 
 And scrutinise every things 
 In the whole region : 
 All which to his son 
 When Anchises had shown, 
 And pointed out to him 
 Each separate object, 
 And with a longing 
 For th' oncoming- glory 
 Had kindled his soul, 
 He describes next the wars 
 To be waged by the hero, 
 And about the Laurentian 
 Peoples informs him. 
 And Latinus's city, 
 And how to avoid best 
 Or bear every trouble. 
 
VI. 313 
 
 There arc two gates of Sleep , 
 Tlie one horny, they say, 
 And affording' free passage 
 To really true visions: 
 Through the other, of white 
 Clossy ivory wrought, 
 The Manes their false dreams 
 Send lip to the world. 
 Toward the ivory gate 
 Anchises his son 
 Conducts as he speaks, 
 And with him the Sibyl , 
 And lets both out through it. 
 To the ships and his comrades 
 Eneas returns; 
 Then along the shore coasts 
 To Caieta's port straight. 
 From the prow they cast anchor 
 The sterns hue the shore. 
 
 CORRIGENDA. 
 
 Sign. yCu Lino 4 from bolloni. instead of thcni, road thou 
 
 Sign. yi. Lino 14 from bottom, insload of our, road our 
 
 Sign. C2. Lino 12 from boUom, instead of impostor, read 
 i m p () s I o r 
 
 21 
 
Page 1. Instead of lines 8, 9, 10 from top, read 
 Mars' bristling cirms and Him whom first 
 And leader from the coasts of Troy 
 Fate broug-ht to Italy refugee,* 
 
 Page 3. Instead of lines 13 and 14 from lop, read 
 Which she had been foremost 
 To wage against Troy 
 On behalf of dear Argos — * 
 
 Page 4. Line 15 from top, instead of I, read I 
 
 Page 16. Line 6 from bottom, instead of Troys, I'ead Troy's 
 
 Page 20. Line 2 from bottom, instead of breast, read waist, 
 
 Page 32. Instead of line 14 from bottom, read 
 For us — we have nothing to fear; 
 And thou — thou shalt never repent thee * 
 
 Page 59. Instead of line 8 from bottom, read 
 And Machaon the principal mover , * 
 
 Page 90. Instead of lines 9 and 8 from bottom, read 
 For while, diverging from the ruad's 
 Direction known , I follow bye-paths , 
 
 Page 143. Instead of lines 15 and 14 irom bottom, read 
 1 acknowledge I 'm one 
 Of that crew of Dana'i 
 
 Page 152. Last line, instead of knew, read know 
 
 Page 157. Instead of line 3 from top, read 
 
 And on the top o' th' crag the Nymphs huzzaed.* 
 Page 168. Line 7 from bottom, instead of pious, read former* 
 Page 176. Line 11 from top, instead of Hi an, read Hi an 
 
 * For the reason of this alteration see my Notes of a Twelve 
 Years' Voyage of Discovery in the First Six Books of the Eneis. 
 
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