The Poetical Works of Addison; Gay's Fables; and Somerville's Chase · Chapter 5Milton's Style Imitated,
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Lost in the gloomy horror of the night, We struck upon the coast where Ætna lies, Horrid and waste, its entrails fraught with fire, That now casts out dark fumes and pitchy clouds, Vast showers of ashes hovering in the smoke; Now belches molten stones and ruddy flame, Incensed, or tears up mountains by the roots, Or slings a broken rock aloft in air. The bottom works with smothered fire involved In pestilential vapours, stench, and smoke. _10 'Tis said, that thunder-struck Enceladus Groveling beneath the incumbent mountain's weight, Lies stretched supine, eternal prey of flames; And, when he heaves against the burning load, Reluctant, to invert his broiling limbs, A sudden earthquake shoots through all the isle, And Ætna thunders dreadful under-ground, Then pours out smoke in wreathing curls convolved, And shades the sun's bright orb, and blots out day. Here in the shelter of the woods we lodged, _20 And frighted heard strange sounds and dismal yells, Nor saw from whence they came; for all the night A murky storm deep lowering o'er our heads Hung imminent, that with impervious gloom Opposed itself to Cynthia's silver ray, And shaded all beneath. But now the sun With orient beams had chased the dewy night From earth and heaven; all nature stood disclosed: When, looking on the neighbouring woods, we saw The ghastly visage of a man unknown, _30 An uncouth feature, meagre, pale, and wild; Affliction's foul and terrible dismay Sat in his looks, his face, impaired and worn With marks of famine, speaking sore distress; His locks were tangled, and his shaggy beard Matted with filth; in all things else a Greek. He first advanced in haste; but, when he saw Trojans and Trojan arms, in mid career Stopp'd short, he back recoiled as one surprised: But soon recovering speed he ran, he flew Precipitant, and thus with piteous cries _40 Our ears assailed: 'By heaven's eternal fires, By every god that sits enthroned on high, By this good light, relieve a wretch forlorn, And bear me hence to any distant shore, So I may shun this savage race accursed. 'Tis true I fought among the Greeks that late With sword and fire o'erturned Neptunian Troy And laid the labours of the gods in dust; For which, if so the sad offence deserves, _50 Plunged in the deep, for ever let me lie Whelmed under seas; if death must be my doom, Let man inflict it, and I die well-pleased.' He ended here, and now profuse to tears In suppliant mood fell prostrate at our feet: We bade him speak from whence and what he was, And how by stress of fortune sunk thus low; Anchises too, with friendly aspect mild, Gave him his hand, sure pledge of amity; When, thus encouraged, he began his tale. _60 'I'm one,' says he, 'of poor descent; my name Is Achæmenides, my country Greece; Ulysses' sad compeer, who, whilst he fled The raging Cyclops, left me here behind, Disconsolate, forlorn; within the cave He left me, giant Polypheme's dark cave; A dungeon wide and horrible, the walls On all sides furred with mouldy damps, and hung With clots of ropy gore, and human limbs, His dire repast: himself of mighty size, _70 Hoarse in his voice, and in his visage grim, Intractable, that riots on the flesh Of mortal men, and swills the vital blood. Him did I see snatch up with horrid grasp Two sprawling Greeks, in either hand a man; I saw him when with huge, tempestuous sway He dashed and broke them on the grundsil edge; The pavement swam in blood, the walls around Were spattered o'er with brains. He lapp'd the blood, And chewed the tender flesh still warm with life, _80 That swelled and heaved itself amidst his teeth As sensible of pain. Not less meanwhile Our chief, incensed and studious of revenge, Plots his destruction, which he thus effects. The giant, gorged with flesh, and wine, and blood, Lay stretched at length and snoring in his den, Belching raw gobbets from his maw, o'ercharged With purple wine and cruddled gore confused. We gathered round, and to his single eye, The single eye that in his forehead glared _90 Like a full moon, or a broad burnished shield, A forky staff we dexterously applied, Which, in the spacious socket turning round, Scooped out the big round jelly from its orb. But let me not thus interpose delays; Fly, mortals, fly this cursed, detested race: A hundred of the same stupendous size, A hundred Cyclops live among the hills, Gigantic brotherhood, that stalk along With horrid strides o'er the high mountains' tops, _100 Enormous in their gait; I oft have heard Their voice and tread, oft seen them as they passed, Sculking and cowering down, half dead with fear. Thrice has the moon washed all her orb in light, Thrice travelled o'er, in her obscure sojourn, The realms of night inglorious, since I've lived Amidst these woods, gleaning from thorns and shrubs A wretched sustenance.' As thus he spoke, We saw descending from a neighbouring hill Blind Polypheme; by weary steps and slow _110 The groping giant with a trunk of pine Explored his way; around, his woolly flocks Attended grazing; to the well-known shore He bent his course, and on the margin stood, A hideous monster, terrible, deformed; Full in the midst of his high front there gaped The spacious hollow where his eye-ball rolled, A ghastly orifice: he rinsed the wound, And washed away the strings and clotted blood That caked within; then, stalking through the deep, _120 He fords the ocean, while the topmost wave Scarce reaches up his middle side; we stood Amazed, be sure; a sudden horror chill Ran through each nerve, and thrilled in every vein, Till, using all the force of winds and oars, We sped away; he heard us in our course, And with his outstretched arms around him groped, But finding nought within his reach, he raised Such hideous shouts that all the ocean shook. Even Italy, though many a league remote, _130 In distant echoes answered; Ætna roared, Through all its inmost winding caverns roared. Roused with the sound, the mighty family Of one-eyed brothers hasten to the shore, And gather round the bellowing Polypheme, A dire assembly: we with eager haste Work every one, and from afar behold A host of giants covering all the shore. So stands a forest tall of mountain oaks Advanced to mighty growth: the traveller _140 Hears from the humble valley where he rides The hollow murmurs of the winds that blow Amidst the boughs, and at the distance sees The shady tops of trees unnumbered rise, A stately prospect, waving in the clouds.
Rhení pæator et Istri. Omnis in hoc uno variis discordia cessit Ordinibus; læctatur eques, plauditque senator, Votaque patricio certant plebeia favori. CLAUD. DE LAUD. STILIC.
Esse aliquam in terris gentem quæ suâ impensâ, suo labore ac periculo bella gerat pro libertate aliorum. Nec hoc finitimis, aut propinquæ vicinitatis hominibus, aut terris continenti junctis præstet. Maria trajiciat: ne quod toto orbe terrarum injustum imperium sit, et ubique jus, fas, lex, potentissima sint. LIV. HIST. lib. 36.
While crowds of princes your deserts proclaim, Proud in their number to enrol your name; While emperors to you commit their cause, And Anna's praises crown the vast applause; Accept, great leader, what the Muse recites, That in ambitious verse attempts your fights. Fired and transported with a theme so new, Ten thousand wonders opening to my view Shine forth at once; sieges and storms appear, And wars and conquests fill the important year, _10 Rivers of blood I see, and hills of slain, An Iliad rising out of one campaign. The haughty Gaul beheld, with towering pride, His ancient bounds enlarged on every side, Pirene's lofty barriers were subdued, And in the midst of his wide empire stood; Ausonia's states, the victor to restrain, Opposed their Alps and Apennines in vain, Nor found themselves, with strength of rocks immured, Behind their everlasting hills secured; _20 The rising Danube its long race began, And half its course through the new conquests ran; Amazed and anxious for her sovereign's fates, Germania trembled through a hundred states; Great Leopold himself was seized with fear; He gazed around, but saw no succour near; He gazed, and half abandoned to despair His hopes on Heaven, and confidence in prayer. To Britain's queen the nations turn their eyes, On her resolves the Western world relies, _30 Confiding still, amidst its dire alarms, In Anna's councils and in Churchill's arms. Thrice happy Britain, from the kingdoms rent, To sit the guardian of the continent! That sees her bravest son advanced so high, And flourishing so near her prince's eye; Thy favourites grow not up by fortune's sport, Or from the crimes or follies of a court; On the firm basis of desert they rise, From long-tried, faith, and friendship's holy ties: _40 Their sovereign's well-distinguished smiles they share, Her ornaments in peace, her strength in war; The nation thanks them with a public voice, By showers of blessings Heaven approves their choice; Envy itself is dumb, in wonder lost, And factions strive who shall applaud them most. Soon as soft vernal breezes warm the sky, Britannia's colours in the zephyrs fly; Her chief already has his march begun, Crossing the provinces himself had won, _50 Till the Moselle, appearing from afar, Retards the progress of the moving war. Delightful stream, had Nature bid her fall In distant climes, far from the perjured Gaul; But now a purchase to the sword she lies, Her harvests for uncertain owners rise, Each vineyard doubtful of its master grows, And to the victor's bowl each vintage flows. The discontented shades of slaughtered hosts, That wandered on her banks, her heroes' ghosts, _60 Hoped, when they saw Britannia's arms appear, The vengeance due to their great deaths was near. Our godlike leader, ere the stream he passed, The mighty scheme of all his labours cast, Forming the wondrous year within his thought; His bosom glowed with battles yet unfought. The long, laborious march he first surveys, And joins the distant Danube to the Mæse, Between whose floods such pathless forests grow, Such mountains rise, so many rivers flow: _70 The toil looks lovely in the hero's eyes, And danger serves but to enhance the prize. Big with the fate of Europe, he renews His dreadful course, and the proud foe pursues: Infected by the burning Scorpion's heat, The sultry gales round his chafed temples beat, Till on the borders of the Maine he finds Defensive shadows and refreshing winds. Our British youth, with inborn freedom bold, Unnumbered scenes of servitude behold, _80 Nations of slaves, with tyranny debased, (Their Maker's image more than half defaced,) Hourly instructed, as they urge their toil, To prize their queen, and love their native soil. Still to the rising sun they take their way Through clouds of dust, and gain upon the clay; When now the Neckar on its friendly coast With cooling streams revives the fainting host, That cheerfully its labours past forgets, The midnight watches, and the noonday heats. _90 O'er prostrate towns and palaces they pass, (Now covered o'er with weeds and hid in grass,) Breathing revenge; whilst anger and disdain Fire every breast, and boil in every vein: Here shattered walls, like broken rocks, from far Rise up in hideous views, the guilt of war, Whilst here the vine o'er hills of ruin climbs, Industrious to conceal great Bourbon's crimes, At length the fame of England's hero drew, Eugenio to the glorious interview. _100 Great souls by instinct to each other turn, Demand alliance, and in friendship burn; A sudden friendship, while with stretched-out rays They meet each other, mingling blaze with blaze. Polished in courts, and hardened in the field, Renowned for conquest, and in council skilled, Their courage dwells not in a troubled flood Of mounting spirits, and fermenting blood: Lodged in the soul, with virtue overruled, Inflamed by reason, and by reason cooled, _110 In hours of peace content to be unknown, And only in the field of battle shown: To souls like these, in mutual friendship joined, Heaven dares intrust the cause of humankind. Britannia's graceful sons appear in arms, Her harassed troops the hero's presence warms, Whilst the high hills and rivers all around With thundering peals of British shouts resound: Doubling their speed, they march with fresh delight, Eager for glory, and require the fight. _120 So the staunch hound the trembling deer pursues, And smells his footsteps in the tainted dews, The tedious track unravelling by degrees: But when the scent comes warm in every breeze, Fired at the near approach, he shoots away On his full stretch, and bears upon his prey. The march concludes, the various realms are past, The immortal Schellenberg appears at last: Like hills the aspiring ramparts rise on high, Like valleys at their feet the trenches lie; _130 Batteries on batteries guard each fatal pass, Threatening destruction; rows of hollow brass, Tube behind tube, the dreadful entrance keep, Whilst in their wombs ten thousand thunders sleep: Great Churchill owns, charmed with the glorious sight, His march o'erpaid by such a promised fight. The western sun now shot a feeble ray, And faintly scattered the remains of day; Evening approached; but, oh! what hosts of foes Were never to behold that evening close! _140 Thickening their ranks, and wedged in firm array, The close-compacted Britons win their way: In vain the cannon their thronged war defaced With tracts of death, and laid the battle waste; Still pressing forward to the fight, they broke Through flames of sulphur, and a night of smoke, Till slaughtered legions filled the trench below, And bore their fierce avengers to the foe. High on the works the mingling hosts engage; The battle, kindled into tenfold rage _150 With showers of bullets and with storms of fire, Burns in full fury; heaps on heaps expire; Nations with nations mixed confus'dly die, And lost in one promiscuous carnage lie. How many generous Britons meet their doom, New to the field, and heroes in the bloom! The illustrious youths, that left their native shore To march where Britons never marched before, (O fatal love of fame! O glorious heat, Only destructive to the brave and great!) _160 After such toils o'ercome, such dangers past, Stretched on Bavarian ramparts breathe their last. But hold, my Muse, may no complaints appear, Nor blot the day with an ungrateful tear: While Marlborough lives, Britannia's stars dispense A friendly light, and shine in innocence. Plunging through seas of blood his fiery steed Where'er his friends retire, or foes succeed; Those he supports, these drives to sudden flight, And turns the various fortune of the fight. _170 Forbear, great man, renowned in arms, forbear To brave the thickest terrors of the war, Nor hazard thus, confused in crowds of foes, Britannia's safety, and the world's repose; Let nations, anxious for thy life, abate This scorn of danger and contempt of fate: Thou liv'st not for thyself; thy queen demands Conquest and peace from thy victorious hands; Kingdoms and empires in thy fortune join, And Europe's destiny depends on thine. _180 At length the long-disputed pass they gain, By crowded armies fortified in vain; The war breaks in, the fierce Bavarians yield, And see their camp with British legions filled. So Belgian mounds bear on their shattered sides The sea's whole weight, increased with swelling tides; But if the rushing wave a passage finds, Enraged by watery moons, and warring winds, The trembling peasant sees his country round Covered with tempests, and in oceans drowned. _190 The few surviving foes dispersed in flight, (Refuse of swords, and gleanings of a fight,) In every rustling wind the victor hear, And Marlborough's form in every shadow fear, Till the dark cope of night with kind embrace Befriends the rout, and covers their disgrace. To Donawert, with unresisted force, The gay, victorious army bends its course. The growth of meadows, and the pride of fields, Whatever spoils Bavaria's summer yields, _200 (The Danube's great increase,) Britannia shares, The food of armies, and support of wars: With magazines of death, destructive balls, And cannons doomed to batter Landau's walls, The victor finds each hidden cavern stored, And turns their fury on their guilty lord. Deluded prince! how is thy greatness crossed, And all the gaudy dream of empire lost, That proudly set thee on a fancied throne, And made imaginary realms thy own! _210 Thy troops that now behind the Danube join, Shall shortly seek for shelter from the Rhine, Nor find it there: surrounded with alarms, Thou hopest the assistance of the Gallic arms; The Gallic arms in safety shall advance, And crowd thy standards with the power of France, While to exalt thy doom, the aspiring Gaul Shares thy destruction, and adorns thy fall. Unbounded courage and compassion joined, Tempering each other in the victor's mind, _220 Alternately proclaim him good and great, And make the hero and the man complete. Long did he strive the obdurate foe to gain By proffered grace, but long he strove in vain; Till fired at length, he thinks it vain to spare His rising wrath, and gives a loose to war. In vengeance roused, the soldier fills his hand With sword and fire, and ravages the land, A thousand villages to ashes turns, In crackling flames a thousand harvests burns. _230 To the thick woods the woolly flocks retreat, And mixed with bellowing herds confus'dly bleat; Their trembling lords the common shade partake, And cries of infants sound in every brake: The listening soldier fixed in sorrow stands, Loth to obey his leader's just commands; The leader grieves, by generous pity swayed, To see his just commands so well obeyed. But now the trumpet, terrible from far, In shriller clangors animates the war, _240 Confederate drums in fuller consort beat, And echoing hills the loud alarm repeat: Gallia's proud standards, to Bavaria's joined, Unfurl their gilded lilies in the wind; The daring prince his blasted hopes renews, And while the thick embattled host he views Stretched out in deep array, and dreadful length, His heart dilates, and glories in his strength. The fatal day its mighty course began, That the grieved world had long desired in vain: _250 States that their new captivity bemoaned, Armies of martyrs that in exile groaned, Sighs from the depth of gloomy dungeons heard, And prayers in bitterness of soul preferred, Europe's loud cries, that Providence assailed, And Anna's ardent vows, at length prevailed; The day was come when heaven designed to show His care and conduct of the world below. Behold, in awful march and dread array The long-expected squadrons shape their way! _260 Death, in approaching terrible, imparts An anxious horror to the bravest hearts; Yet do their beating breasts demand the strife, And thirst of glory quells the love of life. No vulgar fears can British minds control: Heat of revenge and noble pride of soul O'erlook the foe, advantaged by his post, Lessen his numbers, and contract his host. Though fens and floods possessed the middle space, That unprovoked they would have feared to pass, _270 Nor fens nor floods can stop Britannia's bands, When her proud foe ranged on their borders stands. But, O my Muse, what numbers wilt thou find To sing the furious troops in battle joined! Methinks I hear the drum's tumultuous sound The victor's shouts and dying groans confound, The dreadful burst of cannon rend the skies, And all the thunder of the battle rise. 'Twas then great Marlborough's mighty soul was proved, That, in the shock of charging hosts unmoved, _280 Amidst confusion, horror, and despair, Examined all the dreadful scenes of war; In peaceful thought the field of death surveyed, To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid, Inspired repulsed battalions to engage, And taught the doubtful battle where to rage. So when an angel by divine command With rising tempests shakes a guilty land, Such as of late o'er pale Britannia passed,[6] Calm and serene he drives the furious blast; _290 And, pleased the Almighty's orders to perform, Hides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm. But see the haughty household-troops advance! The dread of Europe, and the pride of France. The war's whole art each private soldier knows, And with a general's love of conquest glows; Proudly he marches on, and, void of fear, Laughs at the shaking of the British spear: Vain insolence! with native freedom brave, The meanest Briton scorns the highest slave; _300 Contempt and fury fire their souls by turns, Each nation's glory in each warrior burns, Each fights, as in his arm the important day And all the fate of his great monarch lay: A thousand glorious actions, that might claim Triumphant laurels, and immortal fame, Confused in clouds of glorious actions lie, And troops of heroes undistinguished die. O Dormer, how can I behold thy fate, And not the wonders of thy youth relate! _310 How can I see the gay, the brave, the young, Fall in the cloud of war and lie unsung! In joys of conquest he resigns his breath, And, filled with England's glory, smiles in death. The rout begins, the Gallic squadrons run, Compelled in crowds to meet the fate they shun; Thousands of fiery steeds with wounds transfixed Floating in gore, with their dead masters mixed, Midst heaps of spears and standards driven around, Lie in the Danube's bloody whirlpools drowned, _320 Troops of bold youths, born on the distant Soane, Or sounding borders of the rapid Rhône, Or where the Seine her flowery fields divides, Or where the Loire through winding vineyards glides; In heaps the rolling billows sweep away, And into Scythian seas their bloated corps convey. From Blenheim's towers the Gaul, with wild affright, Beholds the various havoc of the fight; His waving banners, that so oft had stood, Planted in fields of death, and streams of blood, _330 So wont the guarded enemy to reach, And rise triumphant in the fatal breach, Or pierce the broken foe's remotest lines, The hardy veteran with tears resigns. Unfortunate Tallard![7] Oh, who can name The pangs of rage, of sorrow, and of shame, That with mixed tumult in thy bosom swelled! When first thou saw'st thy bravest troops repelled, Thine only son pierced with a deadly wound, Choked in his blood, and gasping on the ground, _340 Thyself in bondage by the victor kept! The chief, the father, and the captive wept. An English Muse is touched with generous woe, And in the unhappy man forgets the foe. Greatly distressed! thy loud complaints forbear, Blame not the turns of fate, and chance of war; Give thy brave foes their due, nor blush to own The fatal field by such great leaders won, The field whence famed Eugenio bore away Only the second honours of the day. _350 With floods of gore that from the vanquished fell, The marshes stagnate, and the rivers swell. Mountains of slain lie heaped upon the ground, Or 'midst the roarings of the Danube drowned; Whole captive hosts the conqueror detains In painful bondage and inglorious chains; Even those who'scape the fetters and the sword, Nor seek the fortunes of a happier lord, Their raging king dishonours, to complete Marlborough's great work, and finish the defeat. _360 From Memminghen's high domes, and Augsburg's walls, The distant battle drives the insulting Gauls; Freed by the terror of the victor's name, The rescued states his great protection claim; Whilst Ulm the approach of her deliverer waits, And longs to open her obsequious gates. The hero's breast still swells with great designs, In every thought the towering genius shines: If to the foe his dreadful course he bends, O'er the wide continent his march extends; _370 If sieges in his labouring thoughts are formed, Camps are assaulted, and an army stormed; If to the fight his active soul is bent, The fate of Europe turns on its event. What distant land, what region, can afford An action worthy his victorious sword? Where will he next the flying Gaul defeat, To make the series of his toils complete? Where the swoln Rhine, rushing with all its force, Divides the hostile nations in its course, _380 While each contracts its bounds, or wider grows, Enlarged or straitened as the river flows, On Gallia's side a mighty bulwark stands, That all the wide extended plain commands; Twice, since the war was kindled, has it tried The victor's rage, and twice has changed its side; As oft whole armies, with the prize o'erjoyed, Have the long summer on its walls employed. Hither our mighty chief his arms directs, Hence future triumphs from the war expects; _390 And though the dog-star had its course begun, Carries his arms still nearer to the sun: Fixed on the glorious action, he forgets The change of seasons, and increase of heats: No toils are painful that can danger show, No climes unlovely that contain a foe. The roving Gaul, to his own bounds restrained, Learns to encamp within his native land, But soon as the victorious host he spies, From hill to hill, from stream to stream he flies: _400 Such dire impressions in his heart remain Of Marlborough's sword, and Hochstet's fatal plain: In vain Britannia's mighty chief besets Their shady coverts, and obscure retreats; They fly the conqueror's approaching fame, That bears the force of armies in his name, Austria's young monarch, whose imperial sway Sceptres and thrones are destined to obey, Whose boasted ancestry so high extends That in the pagan gods his lineage ends, _410 Comes from afar, in gratitude to own The great supporter of his father's throne; What tides of glory to his bosom ran, Clasped in the embraces of the godlike man! How were his eyes with pleasing wonder fixed To see such fire with so much sweetness mixed, Such easy greatness, such a graceful port, So turned and finished for the camp or court! Achilles thus was formed with every grace, And Nireus shone but in the second place; _420 Thus the great father of almighty Rome (Divinely flushed with an immortal bloom, That Cytherea's fragrant breath bestowed) In all the charms of his bright mother glowed. The royal youth by Marlborough's presence charmed, Taught by his counsels, by his actions warmed, On Landau with redoubled fury falls, Discharges all his thunder on its walls, O'er mines and caves of death provokes the fight, And learns to conquer in the hero's sight. _430 The British chief, for mighty toils renowned, Increased in titles, and with conquests crowned, To Belgian coasts his tedious march renews, And the long windings of the Rhine pursues, Clearing its borders from usurping foes, And blessed by rescued nations as he goes. Treves fears no more, freed from its dire alarms; And Trærbach feels the terror of his arms, Seated on rocks her proud foundations shake, While Marlborough presses to the bold attack, _440 Plants all his batteries, bids his cannon roar, And shows how Landau might have fallen before. Scared at his near approach, great Louis fears Vengeance reserved for his declining years, Forgets his thirst of universal sway, And scarce can teach his subjects to obey; His arms he finds on vain attempts employed, The ambitious projects for his race destroyed, The work of ages sunk in one campaign, And lives of millions sacrificed in vain. _450 Such are the effects of Anna's royal cares: By her, Britannia, great in foreign wars, Ranges through nations, wheresoo'er disjoined, Without the wonted aid of sea and wind. By her the unfettered Ister's states are free, And taste the sweets of English liberty: But who can tell the joys of those that lie Beneath the constant influence of her eye! Whilst in diffusive showers her bounties fall, Like heaven's indulgence, and descend on all, _460 Secure the happy, succour the distressed, Make every subject glad, and a whole people blessed. Thus would I fain Britannia's wars rehearse, In the smooth records of a faithful verse; That, if such numbers can o'er time prevail, May tell posterity the wondrous tale. When actions, unadorned, are faint and weak, Cities and countries must be taught to speak; Gods may descend in factions from the skies, And rivers from their oozy beds arise; _470 Fiction may deck the truth with spurious rays, And round the hero cast a borrowed blaze. Marlborough's exploits appear divinely bright, And proudly shine in their own native light; Raised of themselves, their genuine charms they boast, And those who paint them truest praise them most.
From life's superfluous cares enlarged, His debt of human toil discharged, Here Cowley lies! beneath this shed, To every worldly interest dead; With decent poverty content, His hours of ease not idly spent; To fortune's goods a foe profess'd, And hating wealth by all caress'd. 'Tis true he's dead; for oh! how small
A spot of earth is now his all: _10 Oh! wish that earth may lightly lay, And every care be far away; Bring flowers; the short-lived roses bring, To life deceased, fit offering: And sweets around the poet strow, Whilst yet with life his ashes glow.
In the first rise and infancy of Farce, When fools were many, and when plays were scarce, The raw, unpractised authors could, with ease, A young and unexperienced audience please: No single character had e'er been shown, But the whole herd of fops was all their own; Rich in originals, they set to view, In every piece, a coxcomb that was new. But now our British theatre can boast Drolls of all kinds, a vast, unthinking host! _10 Fruitful of folly and of vice, it shows Cuckolds, and cits, and bawds, and pimps, and beaux; Rough country knights are found of every shire; Of every fashion gentle fops appear; And punks of different characters we meet, As frequent on the stage as in the pit. Our modern wits are forced to pick and cull, And here and there by chance glean up a fool: Long ere they find the necessary spark, They search the town, and beat about the Park; _20 To all his most frequented haunts resort, Oft dog him to the ring, and oft to court, As love of pleasure or of place invites; And sometimes catch him taking snuff at White's. Howe'er, to do you right, the present age Breeds very hopeful monsters for the stage; That scorn the paths their dull forefathers trod, And wont be blockheads in the common road. Do but survey this crowded house to-night:— Here's still encouragement for those that write. _30 Our author, to divert his friends to-day, Stocks with variety of fools his play; And that there may be something gay and new, Two ladies-errant has exposed to view: The first a damsel, travelled in romance; The t'other more refined; she comes from France: Rescue, like courteous knights, the nymph from danger; And kindly treat, like well-bred men, the stranger.
When Orpheus tuned his lyre with pleasing woe, Rivers forgot to run, and winds to blow, While listening forests covered as he played, The soft musician in a moving shade. That this night's strains the same success may find, The force of magic is to music joined; Where sounding strings and artful voices fail, The charming rod and muttered spells prevail. Let sage Urganda wave the circling wand On barren mountains, or a waste of sand, _10 The desert smiles; the woods begin to grow, The birds to warble, and the springs to flow. The same dull sights in the same landscape mixed, Scenes of still life, and points for ever fixed, A tedious pleasure on the mind bestow, And pall the sense with one continued show; But as our two magicians try their skill, The vision varies, though the place stands still, While the same spot its gaudy form renews, Shifting the prospect to a thousand views. _20 Thus (without unity of place transgressed) The enchanter turns the critic to a jest. But howsoe'er, to please your wandering eyes, Bright objects disappear and brighter rise: There's none can make amends for lost delight, While from that circle we divert your sight.
Long has a race of heroes fill'd the stage, That rant by note, and through the gamut rage; In songs and airs express their martial fire, Combat in trills, and in a fugue expire: While, lull'd by sound, and undisturb'd by wit, Calm and serene you indolently sit, And, from the dull fatigue of thinking free, Hear the facetious fiddle's repartee: Our home-spun authors must forsake the field, And Shakspeare to the soft Scarletti yield. _10 To your new taste the poet of this day Was by a friend advised to form his play. Had Valentini, musically coy, Shunn'd Phædra's arms, and scorn'd the proffer'd joy, It had not moved your wonder to have seen An eunuch fly from an enamour'd queen: How would it please, should she in English speak, And could Hippolitus reply in Greek! But he, a stranger to your modish way, By your old rules must stand or fall to-day, _20 And hopes you will your foreign taste command, To bear, for once, with what you understand.
Augustus had a design to rebuild Troy, and make it the metropolis of the Roman empire, having closeted several senators on the project: Horace is supposed to have written the following Ode on this occasion.
The man resolved, and steady to his trust, Inflexible to ill, and obstinately just, May the rude rabble's insolence despise, Their senseless clamours and tumultuous cries; The tyrant's fierceness he beguiles, And the stern brow, and the harsh voice defies, And with superior greatness smiles. Not the rough whirlwind, that deforms Adria's black gulf, and vexes it with storms, The stubborn virtue of his soul can move; _10 Not the red arm of angry Jove, That flings the thunder from the sky, And gives it rage to roar, and strength to fly. Should the whole frame of nature round him break, In ruin and confusion hurled, He, unconcerned, would hear the mighty crack, And stand secure amidst a falling world. Such were the godlike arts that led Bright Pollux to the blest abodes; Such did for great Alcides plead, _20 And gained a place among the gods; Where now Augustus, mixed with heroes, lies, And to his lips the nectar bowl applies: His ruddy lips the purple tincture show, And with immortal strains divinely glow. By arts like these did young Lyæus [11] rise: His tigers drew him to the skies, Wild from the desert and unbroke: In vain they foamed, in vain they stared, In vain their eyes with fury glared; _30 He tamed them to the lash, and bent them to the yoke. Such were the paths that Rome's great founder trod, When in a whirlwind snatched on high, He shook off dull mortality, And lost the monarch in the god. Bright Juno then her awful silence broke, And thus the assembled deities bespoke. 'Troy,' says the goddess, 'perjured Troy has felt The dire effects of her proud tyrant's guilt; The towering pile, and soft abodes, _40 Walled by the hand of servile gods, Now spreads its ruins all around, And lies inglorious on the ground. An umpire, partial and unjust, And a lewd woman's impious lust, Lay heavy on her head, and sunk her to the dust. Since false Laomedon's tyrannic sway, That durst defraud the immortals of their pay, Her guardian gods renounced their patronage, Nor would the fierce invading foe repel; _50 To my resentment, and Minerva's rage, The guilty king and the whole people fell. And now the long protracted wars are o'er, The soft adulterer shines no more; No more does Hector's force the Trojans shield, That drove whole armies back, and singly cleared the field. My vengeance sated, I at length resign To Mars his offspring of the Trojan line: Advanced to godhead let him rise, And take his station in the skies; _60 There entertain his ravished sight With scenes of glory, fields of light; Quaff with the gods immortal wine, And see adoring nations crowd his shrine: The thin remains of Troy's afflicted host, In distant realms may seats unenvied find, And flourish on a foreign coast; But far be Rome from Troy disjoined, Removed by seas from the disastrous shore; May endless billows rise between, and storms unnumbered roar. _70 Still let the cursed, detested place, Where Priam lies, and Priam's faithless race, Be cover'd o'er with weeds, and hid in grass. There let the wanton flocks unguarded stray; Or, while the lonely shepherd sings, Amidst the mighty ruins play, And frisk upon the tombs of kings. May tigers there, and all the savage kind, Sad, solitary haunts and silent deserts find; In gloomy vaults, and nooks of palaces, _80 May the unmolested lioness Her brinded whelps securely lay, Or couched, in dreadful slumbers waste the day. While Troy in heaps of ruins lies, Rome and the Roman Capitol shall rise; The illustrious exiles unconfined Shall triumph far and near, and rule mankind. In vain the sea's intruding tide Europe from Afric shall divide, And part the severed world in two: _90 Through Afric's sands their triumphs they shall spread, And the long train of victories pursue To Nile's yet undiscovered head. Riches the hardy soldier shall despise, And look on gold with undesiring eyes, Nor the disbowelled earth explore In search of the forbidden ore; Those glittering ills concealed within the mine, Shall lie untouched, and innocently shine. To the last bounds that nature sets, _100 The piercing colds and sultry heats, The godlike race shall spread their arms; Now fill the polar circle with alarms, Till storms and tempests their pursuits confine; Now sweat for conquest underneath the line. This only law the victor shall restrain, On these conditions shall he reign; If none his guilty hand employ To build again a second Troy, If none the rash design pursue, _110 Nor tempt the vengeance of the gods anew. A curse there cleaves to the devoted place, That shall the new foundations raze: Greece shall in mutual leagues conspire To storm the rising town with fire, And at their armies' head myself will show What Juno, urged to all her rage, can do. Thrice should Apollo's self the city raise, And line it round with walls of brass, Thrice should my favourite Greeks his works confound, _120 And hew the shining fabric to the ground; Thrice should her captive dames to Greece return, And their dead sons and slaughtered husbands mourn.' But hold, my Muse, forbear thy towering flight, Nor bring the secrets of the gods to light: In vain would thy presumptuous verse The immortal rhetoric rehearse; The mighty strains, in lyric numbers bound, Forget their majesty, and lose their sound.