To sound in chariot swift thy praise;
Finding a prosperous journey for my lays;
And stand beside the Cronian height,
That shines in evening's ample light.

Therefore for me the Muse

Doth in her strength a mightier weapon feed.

Manifold are the ways That men to greatness lead: In kings the summit ends. No further stretch thy views. Thine be the lot, this time

To tread the path sublime;

For me, meanwhile, with conquerors my friends To live, conspicuous still

For the wise poet's skill,

Wherever Greece extends.

FROM OLYMPIC II.

FUTURE PUNISHMENT AND REWARD.

THE deeds that stubborn mortals do
In this disordered nook of Jove's domain,

All find their meed; and there's a Judge below, Whose hateful doom inflicts th' inevitable pain.

O'er the Good, soft suns awhile,

Through the mild day, the night serene,
Alike with cloudless lustre smile,

Tempering all the tranquil scene.
Their's is leisure; vex not they
Stubborn soil, or watery way,

To wring from toil want's worthless bread:
No ills they know, no tears they shed,
But with the glorious gods below

Ages of peace contented share:
Meanwhile the Bad, in bitterest woe,
Eye-startling tasks, and endless tortures bear.
All, whose stedfast virtue thrice

Each side the grave unchanged hath stood,
Still unseduced, unstained with vice,-

They, by Jove's mysterious road,

Pass to Saturn's realm of rest, Happy isle, that holds the Blest; Where sea-born breezes gently blow O'er blooms of gold that round them glow, Which Nature boon from stream or strand Or goodly tree profusely showers; Whence pluck they many a fragrant band, And braid their locks with never-fading flowers.

A wail she utter'd; left him then
Where on the ground he lay;
When straight two dragons came
With eyes of azure flame,

By will divine awaked out of their den;
And with the bees' unharmful venom, they
Fed him, and nursled through the day and night.
The king meanwhile had come,

From stony Pytho driving; and at home
Did of them all, after the boy, inquire,
Born of Evadne;-"for," he said, "the sire
Was Phoebus, and that he

Should of earth's prophets wisest be,

And that his generation should not fail.”
Not to have seen or heard him they avouch'd,
Now five days born. But he, on rushes couch'd,
Was cover'd up in that wide brambly maze :—
His delicate body wet

With yellow and empurpled rays

From many a violet.

And hence his mother bade him claim
For ever this undying name.

FROM OLYMPIC VII.

ORIGIN OF RHODES.

STILL, as ancient legends say,
Amid the depths of ocean lay
The wondrous island unreveal'd;
What time the sovran Father held
Council with the gods to share
Earth and all her regions fair.
Each had his portion. But not one
Bethought him of the absent Sun,
For whose chaste power, in sooth forgot,
No land remain'd to own his lot.
Recall'd to mind, high Jove would fain
Have cast the chances o'er again.
But he allow'd not. For his ken,
He said, amid the silvery surge,
Had mark'd an islet land emerge.
Kindly for flocks and foodful grain.
And straight to seal the portion his,
Golden-tired Lachesis

He bade her hands to heaven uprear,
And a faithful vow to swear,
The mighty oath of every god,
Confirm'd by Jove's imperial nod;
That soon as full disclos'd to air,
Henceforth he should that region share:
Truth crown'd the words; the island bloom'd
From the moist sea, by him assum'd,
Of heaven's sharp rays authentic sire,
Lord of the coursers breathing fire.

FROM OLYMPIC XIV.

TO THE ORCHOMENIAN GRACES, IN BEHALF OF THE
BOY ASOPICHUS.

O YE, ordain'd by lot to dwell
Where Cephisian waters well;
And hold your fair retreat

Mid herds of coursers beautiful and fleet;
Renowned queens, that take your rest

In Orchomenus the blest,

Guarding with ever-wakeful eye
The Minyans' high-born progeny;
To you my votive strains belong :
List, Graces, to your suppliant's song.
For all delightful things below,
All sweet, to you their being owe;
And at your hand their blessings share
The wise, the splendid, and the fair.

Nor without the holy Graces,
The gods, in those supernal places,
Their dances or their banquets rule;
Dispensers they of all above

Throughout the glorious court of Jove; Where each has plac'd her sacred stool By the golden-bow'd Apollo,

Whom in his harpings clear they follow; And the high majestic state

Of their Eternal Father venerate.

Daughters of heav'n ;-Aglaia, thou
Darting splendours from thy brow;
With musical Euphrosyne,-
Be present. Nor less call I thee,
Tuneful Thalia, to look down
On this joyous rout, and own
Me their bard, who lead along,
For Asophichus, the throng
Tripping light to Lydian song;
And Minya for thy sake proclaim
Conqueress in the Olympic game.

Waft, Echo, now, thy wing divine
To the black dome of Proserpine;
And marking Cleodamus there,
Tell the glad tidings;-how his son,
For him, hath crown'd his youthful hair
With plumes in Pisa's valley won.

PYTHIAN I.

TO HIERO OF SYRACUSE, VICTOR IN THE
CHARIOT RACE.

O THOU, whom Phœbus and the choir
Of violet-tressed Muses own,
Their joint treasure, golden lyre,
Ruling step with warbled tone,

Prelude sweet to festive pleasures;
Minstrels hail thy sprightly measures;
Soon as shook from quivering strings,

Leading the choral bands, thy loud preamble

rings.

In thy mazes, steep'd, expire

Bolts of ever-flowing fire.

Jove's eagle on the sceptre slumbers,
Possess'd by thy enchanting numbers;
On either side, his rapid wing,
Drops, entranc'd, the feather'd king;
Black vapour o'er his curved head,
Sealing his eyelids, sweetly shed;
Upheaving his moist back he lies,
Held down with thrilling harmonies.
Mars the rough lance has laid apart,
And yields to song his stormy heart.
No god but of his mood disarm'd,
Is with thy tuneful weapons charm'd;
Soon as Latona's sapient son

And deep-zon'd Muses have their lays begun.

But whomsoever Jove

Hath looked on without love,

Are anguish'd when they hear the voiceful sound.

Whether on land they be,

Or in the raging sea;

With him, outstretched on dread Tartarian bound,

Hundred-headed Typhon; erst

In fam'd Cilicia's cavern nurst;
Foe of the gods; whose shaggy breast,
By Cuma's sea-beat mound, is prest;
Pent by plains of Sicily,

And that snow'd pillar heavenly high,
Ætna, nurse of ceaseless frost;
From whose cavern'd depths aspire
In purest folds upwreathing, tost,
Fountains of approachless fire.
By day, a flood of smouldering smoke,
With sullen gleam, the torrents pour;
But in darkness, many a rock,
And crimson flame, along the shore,
Hurls to the deep with deaf'ning roar.
From that worm, aloft are thrown,
The wells of Vulcan, full of fear;
A marvel strange to look upon;
And, for the passing mariner,
As marvellous to hear;

How Ætna's tops with umbrage black,

And soil, do hold him bound;

And by that pallet, all his back

Is scored with many a wound.

Thy pleasure, Jove, oh be thy pleasure done:
Who dost this mount command,
Forehead of fruitful land,

Whence her illustrious founder hath surnam'd
The neighbour city, whom in Pytho's ring
The herald, late, proclaim'd

For Hiero, in his chariots triumphing.

By sailors, when they quit the coast,
At loosing, it is prized the most,
If speeding gale should come;

For so, with fortune to their friend,
Alike they augur, in the end,
A better voyage home:

And on such auspices we found
Opinion, that no less renown'd

She still shall be, as time succeeds;

Her garlands bright, her conquering steeds,
Ordain'd, in frequent song, the prize,
Mid feasts and high solemnities.

O Lycian! thou who art in Delos king;
Apollo; and dost love the spring
Of Castaly, outrilling

From the Parnassian steep;
May'st thou be ever willing,
This, in thy thought to keep,

And the fair region, in her people, blest.
For of the gods, whate'er is best

In mortal virtues; all the wise are sprung,
And all the stout in hand, and eloquent in tongue.

Intent this man to praise,

I trust to whirl my javelin, brazen tipt,
Not out of limit, yet that all who raise
A rival arm, shall be by far outstript.

So may time, still heaping more,
His blissful measure fill;
Directing, with increase of store,
Forgetfulness of ill.

He surely may recall to thought

In what wars he hath defied,

(His soul with patient courage fraught)

The fierce encounter, when they glory found,
Such as in Hellenian ground,

By help divine, none culls beside;
Riches, with proud honour, crown'd.

Now, Philoctetes' guise pursuing,
He hath the soldier play'd.

A mighty one in need came wooing,
And lured him to his aid;

And from the Lemnian isle, they say,
Where long with ulcer vex'd he lay,
Godlike heroes bore away

The bowyer son of Paan, who destroy'd
The town of Priam, and for Grecia's host
Their labour ended: weak in frame he went,
But fate had will'd th' event.

E'en so may God for Hiero decree,
That what in after time he covets most,
Shall be by apt occasion still enjoy'd.

Muse, I would next a strain from thee,
Warbled to Dinomenes;
Reward for chariots won.
Not alien to a son,
His father's victories.

Come, for the king of Ætna let us find
A song to take his charmed mind.
For him arose, at Hiero's command,
Those stately walls in freedom plann'd;
The model built by hands divine,
The rule outstretch'd by Hyllus' line.
And aye Ægimius' Dorian laws
Are duly kept by each, who draws
His lineage, or from Pamphilus,
Or th' Heraclidae; they who bide
Near banks of steep Taygetus,
And to Amyclæ, from the side

Of Pindus issuing, came; and neighbours were
Right glorious to those twins of Tyndarus,
Whose fame did flourish for their warlike spear.
Grant, Jove, a lot like theirs,

To dwellers by the wave of Amena,
Both citizens and kings;

Certain as true report from mortals brings.
With thee to guide his wakeful cares,
His realm in quiet may the ruler sway;
And turning them to love,

Honour the people; bid his son obey.

Hear, O Saturnian; thou my prayer approve.
Undisturb'd at home let dwell
Phoenicia's band; nor more rebel
The tumult of Tyrrhenian crew,
Marking what shameful rout o'erthrew
Their groaning ships on Cuma's shore,
And all in that defeat they bore,
(As swift his victor navy flew)
From Syracusa's lord;

Who dash'd their youth into the sea,
Setting the land of Grecia free
From servitude abhorr'd.

At Salamis I claim of right

A grace for Athens; and will tell,
In Sparta, of Citharon's fight,

Where with bent bows the Medians fell.
On Himera's well-water'd coast,

For sons of brave Dinomenes,

The hymn, by valour earn'd, shall boast
What fears their fallen foemen seize.

If any speak in season due,
And ravel up into a few

His many ends combin'd;

Censorious blame attends him less.
Prolix and wearisome excess
Will dull a nimble mind;

And neighbours' ears in secret pine

At blessings that in others shine.
But thou no less (for better far
Envy than pity be our share)
Each noble aim pursue.

With rudder just thy people guide;

And steel thy tongue, however tried,
On anvil firm and true.

Aught but from thee at random thrown,
As somewhat great, abroad is blown.
To many thou dividest sway;

And many mark thee, either way,
Thy faithful witnesses.

Still hold thy bloom of bravery on;
No cost, no labour be foregone
To feed this proud excess.

If aught, O friend, to thee be dear
The pleasant sound, that greets thine ear;
Like some bold helmsman, spreading strain
Thy wind-swept canvas; and disdain
The flatt'ring wiles of meaner gain.

At close of glory's boastful day,
Sure as the mighty pass away,
To point their lives, alone remain
Recording, tale and poet's strain.
Fades not the worth of Croesus mild:
But Phalaris, with blood defil'd,
His brazen bull, his torturing flame,
Hand o'er alike to evil fame

In every clime. No tuneful string,
No voice, that makes the rafters ring,
Receive his name, in hall or bower,
When youth and joyance win the hour.

First prize to mortals, good success;
Next portion, good renown:
Whomever both conspire to bless,
He wins the highest crown.

FROM PYTHIAN IV.

JASON'S APPEARANCE AMONGST THE CITIZENS OF

IOLCOS.

BUT whence that voyage? what necessity

Bound on their hearts its adamantine chain? 'Twas Pelias' doom, through fraud or force to die, By Æolus' renowned descendants slain. For e'en his soul with wisdom filled The threatening oracle had chilled; That, breathed from earth's mysterious cave, The wood-crowned earth's mysterious nave,

Bade him with all his kingly care The single-sandalled wight beware, Come when he should, stranger or citizen, Down from his mountain-hold to famed Iolcus' glen.

All at the appointed time, with ported spears, In either hand, appeared the dreadful man; Shaped in Magnesian guise a garb he wears,

That round his noble limbs compacted ran. O'er which a pard-skin from the storm Sheltered his stout, unshuddering form. His mantling locks, unshorn, unbound, In nature's wildness, waving round, Down his broad back illustrious shook; Forward, all bent on speed, he broke, Till, in the forum halting, calm, unmoved, Amidst the inquiring crowd, his dauntless heart he proved.

Unknown he stood-" Apollo's mien

Is this?" Some gazing wonderer cried― "Or his, that wooed the Cyprian queen, Whose reins the brazen chariot guide

In flowery Naxos, ages since
Otus, and Ephialtes, daring prince,
Iphimedeia's offspring, died;
Tityus, gigantic form, Diana slew

When, from her chaste and quivered side, Her huntress-bolt th' unconquered virgin drew; That, warned from joys forbidden, men might

haste

The practicable bliss to taste."

Thus they, with vague surmise, in crowds, discoursed,

Listening and whispering; when in burnished car

Pelias, with mules all-panting, thither forced His urgent speed. Astounded, from afar The stripling's dexter ancle round He spied a single sandal bound; Yet with disguised alarm, "Proclaim, Stranger," said he, "thy country's name; Tell me what matron, born of earth, From her fair bosom gave thee birth? Let not the loathed lie thy lips disgrace, But meet my just demand, and frankly tell thy race."

Him, with undaunted virtue's accents mild, Answered the youth: "From Chiron's school

They on my birth's eventful day, Dreading that lawless ruler, in dismay, My death pretended, and prepar'd Domestic semblance of sepulchral rite,

And female moans and sighs were heard: Me swathed in purple, to the secret night Trusting their silent path, in Chiron's care They placed, the nurturer of their heir.

"Such is my tale-good people, tell me trueMy fathers rode the milk-white steedwhere stand

Their stately towers?-Tis son's son ye view;

I come no alien to a stranger's land;
My godlike host, the Centaur-seer,
The name of Jason bade me bear."
Thus spake the youth; his father's glance
Discerned far off the son's advance,
And the big tears of extasy

Came bubbling from his aged eye.

So swelled his bursting heart with joy to find His lost illustrious boy the comeliest of mankind.

Thither, in haste, allured by Jason's fame, His reverend uncles; from their neighbouring towers

By Hypereia's fountain, Pheres came,

Came Amythaon from Messene's towers; Admetus and Melampus too,

To greet their glorious kinsmen flew. With welcome warm and sumptuous feasts Jason regaled his honoured guests, And freely, without change or check, Threw loose the reins on pleasure's neck: Five days and nights in sympathy of soul Plucked they the laughing flowers that crown the social bowl.

On the sixth morn his plan proposed,

Its cause, importance, means, and bent, To all his kin the youth disclosed.

Forthwith they sallied from their tent; In haste for Pelias' mansion bore, And now already stood within the door. The soft-hair'd Tyro's artful son, Spontaneous rose to meet the martial throng; When, with mild air and soothing tone, Dropping sweet words that melted from his

Thy will be mine; but me the late Remains of life's declining hour await;

Thy youth now wantons in its bloom; Thou canst appease the subterranean powers; The soul of Phryxus from the tomb Calls me to bear him from Aietes' towers, And seize the ponderous ram's refulgent hide, That saved him from the raging tide;

"Saved from the incestuous step-dame's angrier dart.

This to mine ear a dream miraculous Hath told for this have I with anxious heart Castalia's counsels asked, that urged me thus Thither with bark and band to speedDare thou for me the adventurous deed, And I will leave thee lord and king: Jove, from whom all our races spring, Be Jove himself our binding oath,

Witness and warrant of our troth."

This compact to the chiefs propounded, they

With full consent approved, and, parting, went their way."

From the Same.

THE SAILING OF THE ARGO.

AND soon as by the vessel's bow, The anchor was hung up; Then took the leader on the prow, In hands, a golden cup; And on great father Jove did call; And on the winds, and waters all Swept by the hurrying blast; And on the nights, and ocean ways; And on the fair auspicious days,

"We know nothing that gives us a more lively idea of the heroic age of Greece, than the original lines; the splendid appearance of Jason in the forum so strikingly painted-his frank answer to the crafty Pelias-the tender joy of the aged Æson at meeting his son-the five days feasting in preparation for the attack, and Jason's noble address-even the thoughtless easiness with which he is diverted from his purpose by the lure of a perilous and honourable adventure-all these savour of that time, at once patriarchal and heroic, to which our fancies recur with ever new delight."-Quarterly Review.

And sweet return at last.

From out the clouds, in answer kind,
A voice of thunder came;

And, shook in glistering beams around,
Burst out the lightning flame.

The chiefs breath'd free; and at the sign,
Trusted in the power divine.

Hinting sweet hopes, the seer cried,
Forthwith their oars to ply;

And swift went backward from rough hands,
The rowing ceaselessly.

Conducted by the breezy south,

They reached the stormy Axine's mouth;
There a shrine for Neptune rear'd;

Of Thracian bulls, a crimson herd
Was ready; and heav'n founded-stone,
Wide-spread, to lay the altar on.
Peril deep before them lay;
And to the Lord of ships they pray,
Amidst their ever-raging shocks,
To 'scape the justle of fierce rocks.
For twain there were, alive, that whirl'd
Swifter than bellowing winds are hurl'd.
But now to them, that voyage blest
Brought their final day of rest.

FROM NEMEAN I.

THE INFANT HERCULES.

I PRAISE not him, whose palace stored
Reserves unsunn'd the secret hoard,
For private aims design'd.

Riches, for happiness employ'd,
Are with applause of all enjoy'd;
By friends, that share them, blest.
For common hopes to man are given;
Labour his lot, by will of heaven;
And naught, for self, possest.

Worth the theme, on Hercules
Gladly doth my spirit seize;
From the records of old story,
Waking up a tale of glory:
How, escaped the mother's pang,
Into wondrous-gleaming light,
With his twin-born brother sprang
The son of Jove; and from the height,
Seated on her throne of gold,
How Juno did the babe behold,
Where wrapt from jealous eye of day,
In yellow swaddling-bands, he lay.

Forthwith the queen, whom heav'n adores,
In angry mood, her dragons sent,
And rushing through the open doors,
To the wide chambers in they went;
Eager the children to enfold
With keen jaws in ravine roll'd.
But he against them, raised upright
His head, and first essay'd the fight;
Grasping by their necks the twain
With hands they struggled from in vain.
They hung and gasp'd, till life was tir'd;
Then from enormous folds expired.
Opprest the women sunk with dread,
That watched about Alcmena's bed;