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.

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,
Etna, 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 Etna'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 Pæan, 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 Cræsus 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
I come;

The Centaur's daughter nursed me from a child,
And good Chariclo made her cave my home.
Now, when, by their kind care sustained,
My strength its twentieth year had gained,
For no foul deed, no phrase unchaste,
From that sage intercourse displaced,
My home I visit, to require

The ancient honours of my sire;

Which erst to ruling Æolus and his heirs

Jove in his bounty gave, and now the usurper

wears.

"He, by perverse ambition stung,

The traitor Pelias, as 'tis said,

Their sceptre from my parents wrung,

Which they by right, with justice, swayed.

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.

Forth with 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

tongue,

Jason the conference raised on wisdom's base: "Hear thou, Petræan Neptune's race!

"Prone is man's mind from honour's arduous

way

To verge into the tempting paths of gain, Rough in the advance and leading far astray: But thine and mine it must be to restrain Our wrath, and weave our future weal: I speak to ears that heed and feel. One parent's womb, thou know'st, of yore Cretheus and bold Salmoneus bore; And we, their grandsons, thus look on The glory of the golden sun.

But, when affection cools and hateful ire Rankles in kinsmen's hearts, the decent Fates

retire.

These, without conflict from thy hand,
Lest ill betide thee, yield us back."-
Thus urged the prince his just demand:
And thus e'en Pelias kindly spake:
"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 Eson 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,
Forth with 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.

Forth with 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;

For she unclad had leapt to scare
The serpents from her infant lair.
Swift the Cadmean princes, arm'd
In glittering steel, throng'd in, alarm'd;
Amphitryon foremost of the ring,
His naked falchion brandishing,
Smitten with a pang severe.
Others pain we lightly bear; ·
But the woes, that home befal,
Press alike the hearts of all.

He stood. Delight and wonder mix'd
His step suspense, in silence, fix'd;
Surveying with a rapture wild,
The might and courage of his child:
And heav'n beyond his utmost thought,
Had turn'd the fearful news to nought.

A neighbouring seer he summoned straight,
Tiresias, who best knew

To read the dark decrees of fate;
Of Jove, a prophet true:

Who, to him and all the host,
His fortunes did explain:

What monsters he shall slay by land,
And what amidst the main :
And who, with fell ambition flown,
Shall from a high estate be thrown,
To meet, beneath his righteous doom,
A bitter lot, a timeless tomb.
And last of all, on Phlegra's coast,
When gods against the giant host
Should stand in dread array;
That underneath his weapons, must
Their radiant locks be smear'd in dust,
Did that diviner say.

And he with peace, his lot to close,
Shall dwell for aye in sweet repose;
Amid those mansions wondrous fair,
A portion with the gods to share;
And of his mighty toils the meed,
Hebe, the destined bride, shall lead,
In youthful beauty's bloom;
And the blessed spousals ending,
Near Saturnian Jove ascending,
Gaze round upon the awful dome:

FROM NEMEAN III.

INNATE WORTH.

GREAT is the power of inbred nobleness: But he, that all he hath to schooling owes, A shallow wight obscure,

Plants not his step secure;

Feeding vain thoughts on phantoms numberless,

Of genuine excellence mere outward shows.

In Phillyra's house, a flaxen boy,
Achilles oft in rapturous joy
His feats of strength essay'd.
Aloof, like wind, his little javelin flew :
The lion and the brindled boar he slew
Then homeward to old Chiron drew
Their panting carcasses.

This, when six years had fled.

And all the after time

Of his rejoicing prime,

It was to Dian and the blue-eyed Maid,
A wonder how he brought to ground
The stag without or toils or hound:
So fleet of foot was he.

FROM NEMEAN VIII.

THE POETS PRAYER FOR A GUILELESS AND BENEVOLENT DISPOSITION.

HATEFUL of old the glozing plea, With bland imposture at his side, Still meditating guile;

Fill'd with reproaches vile;

Who pulls the splendid down,

And bids th' obscure in fest'ring glory shine.

Such temper far remove, O Father Jove, from

me.

The simple paths of life be mine;
That when this being I resign,
I to my children may bequeath
A name they shall not blush to hear.
Others for gold the vow may breathe,
Or lands that see no limit near:
But fain would I live out my days,
Beloved by those with whom they're past,
In mine own city, till at last

In earth my limbs are clad;

Still praising what is worthy praise,

But scatt'ring censure on the bad.
For virtue by the wise and just
Exalted, grows up as a tree,
That springeth from the dust,
And by the green dews fed,
Doth raise aloft her head,

And in the blithe air waves her branches free.

FROM NEMEAN X.

CASTOR AND POLLUX.

THEIR days with mutual interchange are

spent,

One with Father Jove on high,

And one within earth's caverns pent,

In the glens of Therapnæ.

Such their equal doom dispensed;
And this the life that Pollux chose

Rather than a god to be

And dwell in heav'n perpetually,
When Castor fell by blows

Of Idas' javelin, for his herd incensed.
As from Taygetus around he spied,
Lynceus, of mortals, keenest-eyed,
Had seen them ambush'd in a hollow oak.
On speedy foot forth with they ran,
And swift their deed of blood began,
Those sons of Aphareus; on whom
Jove signal vengeance took.
For, after them, flew Leda's son;
And they, beside their father's tomb,
Stood to bide his coming on.

Snatching thence a carved stone,
The scutcheon of the dead,

They, at the breast of Pollux levell'd it: But him they did not bruise,