Now bulls o'er stalks of broom extend their sides,
Secure of favours from their lowing brides.
Now stately rams their fleecy consorts lead,
Who bleating follow through the wandering shade.
And now the Goddess bids the birds appear,
Raise all their music, and salute the year.
Then deep the swan begins, and deep the song
Runs o'er the water where he sails along ;
While Philomela tunes a treble strain,
And from the poplar charms the list'ning plain.
We fancy love express'd at every note,
It melts, it warbles, in her liquid throat :
Of barbarous Tereus she complains no more,
But sings for pleasure as for grief before,
And still her graces rise, her airs extend,
And all is silence till the Siren end.
How long in coming is my lovely spring!
And when shall I, and when the swallow sing?
Sweet Philomela, cease ;-Or here I sit,
And silent lose my rapt'rous hour of wit:
'Tis gone, the fit retires, the flames decay,
My tuneful Phoebus flies averse away.
His own Amycle thus, as stories run,
But once was silent, and that once undone.
Let those love now, who never loved before;
Let those who always loved, now love the more.
Ecce, jam super genistas explicant tauri latus!
Quisque taurus quo tenetur conjugali fœdere.
Subter umbras cum maritis ecce balantum greges:
Et canoras non tacere diva jussit alites.
Jam loquaces ore rauco stagna cygni perstrepunt:
Adsonat Terei puella subter umbram populi;
Ut putas motus amoris ore dici musico,
Et neges queri sororem de marito barbaro.
Illa cantat: nos tacemus. Quando ver venit meum?
Quando faciam ut chelidon, ut tacere desinam?
Perdidi musam tacendo, nec me Phoebus respicit.
Sic Amyclas, cum tacerent, perdidit silentium.
Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cvas amet.
HOMER'S BATRACHOMUOMACHIA ;
Battle of the Frogs and Mice.
NAMES OF THE MICE.
Psycarpax, one who plunders grana
Sitophagus, an eater of wheat.
NAMES OF THE FROGS.
Physignathus, one who swells his cheeks
Peleus, a name from mud.
Hydromeduse, a ruler in the waters.
Hypsiboas, a loud bawler.
Pelion, from mud.
Seutlæus, called from the beets.
Polyphonus, a great babbler.
Lymnocharis, one who loves the lake.
Crambophagus, a cabbage-eater.
Lymnisius, called from the lake.
Calaminthius, from the herb.
Hydrocharis, who loves the water.
Borborocates, who lies in the mud.
Prassophagus, an eater of garlick.
Pelusius, from mud.
Pelobates, who walks in the dirt.
Meridarpax, one who plunders his Prassæus, called from garlick.
Craugasides, from croaking.
share. ["If you have begun to be historical, I recommend to your hand the story which every pious Irishman ought to begin with—that of St. Patrick to the end you may be obliged (as Dr. Parnell was when he translated the 'Batrachomuomachia') to come into England to espy the frogs, and such other vermin, as were never seen in that land since the time of that Confessor." This was Pope's banter to Jervas, November, 1716. His own opinion of Parnell's translation was most favourable, and does not at all countenance his witticism in another letter, that a translator is no more a poet than a tailor is a man. Parnell's version is skilfully done, and gives a good example of the old "Burlesque." The obvious and fatal defect lies in the names which the Greek writer made illustrative of his heroes, but which his English follower overlooked. A "bacon-eater" and "a sweller of cheeks" may cause a smile, when their eloquence and exploits are set forth like the speeches of Ulysses or the deeds of Ajax, but the mouse and the frog disappear altogether in the sounding names of "Pternotroctas" and "Physignathus." The point of the humour lies in the disproportion; it is the giant's challenge in the dwarr's voice. Embasichytros, calling on all high-spirited frogs to come out to battle, has nothing of the mock-heroic, until we discover that this champion, bearing the herald's staff, and breathing rage and slaughter, is known among his own people by the peaceful name of "Creeper into Pots." In the same manner our interest is deepened in the catastrophe of
"Mr. Barn-robber," when we recollect that it was upon the back of "Mr. Puff-cheek" that he began the enterprise which had so melancholy an end. It may be remarked that the Homeric authorship of this poem is generally rejected, and that critics assign it to an age considerably later. Nelson Coleridge thinks that the description of the combatants arming, may put the student in mind of Shakspere's Queen Mab.]
To fill my rising song with sacred fire,
Ye tuneful Nine, ye sweet celestial quire!
From Helicon's embowering height repair,
Attend my labours, and reward my prayer.
The dreadful toils of raging Mars I write,
The springs of contest, and the fields of fight;
How threatening mice advanc'd with warlike grace,
And waged dire combats with the croaking race.
Not louder tumults shook Olympus' towers,
When earth-born giants dared immortal powers.
These equal acts an equal glory claim,
And thus the Muse records the tale of fame.
Once on a time, fatigued and out of breath,
And just escap'd the stretching claws of death,
A gentle mouse, whom cats pursued in vain,
Fled swift of foot across the neighb'ring plain,
Hung o'er a brink, his eager thirst to cool,
And dipt his whiskers in the standing pool;
When near a courteous frog advanc'd his head,
And from the waters, hoarse-resounding said,
What art thou, stranger? What the line you boast?
What chance hath cast thee panting on our coast?
With strictest truth let all thy words agree,
Nor let me find a faithless mouse in thee.
If worthy friendship, proffer'd friendship take,
And ent'ring view the pleasurable lake:
Range o'er my palace, in my bounty share,
And glad return from hospitable fare.
This silver realm extends beneath my sway,
And me, their monarch, all its frogs obey.
Great Physignathus I, from Peleus' race,
Begot in fair Hydromede's embrace,
Where by the nuptial bank that paints his side,
The swift Eridanus delights to glide.
Thee too, thy form, thy strength, and port proclaim
A sceptred king; a son of martial fame;
Then trace thy line, and aid my guessing eyes.
Thus ceas'd the frog, and thus the mouse replies.
Known to the gods, the men, the birds that fly
Through wild expanses of the midway sky,
My name resounds; and if unknown to thee,
The soul of great Psycarpax lives in me,
Of brave Troxartas' line, whose sleeky down
In love compress'd Lychomile the brown.
My mother she, and princess of the plains
Where'er her father Pternotroctas reigns:
Born where a cabin lifts its airy shed,
With figs, with nuts, with varied dainties fed.
But since our natures nought in common know
From what foundation can a friendship grow?
These curling waters o'er thy palace roll;
But man's high food supports my princely soul.
In vain the circled loaves attempt to lie
Conceal'd in flaskets from my curious eye;
In vain the tripe that boasts the whitest hue,
In vain the gilded bacon shuns my view;
In vain the cheeses, offspring of the pail,
Or honey'd cakes, which gods themselves regale.
And as in arts I shine, in arms I fight,
Mix'd with the bravest, and unknown to flight.
Though large to mine the human form appear,
Not man himself can smite my soul with fear:
Sly to the bed with silent steps I go,
Attempt his finger, or attack his toe,
And fix indented wounds with dext'rous skill
Sleeping he feels and only seems to feel.
Yet have we foes which direful dangers cause,
Grim owls with talons arm'd, and cats with claws,
And that false trap, the den of silent fate,
Where death his ambush plants around the bait:
All dreaded these, and dreadful o'er the rest
The potent warriors of the tabby vest :
If to the dark we fly, the dark they trace,
And rend our heroes of the nibbling race.
But me, nor stalks, nor watrish herbs delight,
Nor can the crimson radish charm my sight,
The lake-resounding frog's selected fare,
Which not a mouse of any taste can bear.
As thus the downy prince his mind exprest,
His answer thus the croaking king addrest.
Thy words luxuriant on thy dainties rove,
And, stranger, we can boast of bounteous Jove :
We sport in water, or we dance on land,
And born amphibious, food from both command.
But trust thyself where wonders ask thy view,
And safely tempt those seas, I'll bear thee thro':
Ascend my shoulders, firmly keep thy seat,
And reach my marshy court, and feast in state.
He said, and bent his back: with nimble bound
Leaps the light mouse, and clasps his arms around;
Then wond'ring floats, and sees with glad survey
The winding banks resembling ports at sea.
But when aloft the curling water rides,
And wets with azure wave his downy sides,
His thoughts grow conscious of approaching woe,
His idle tears with vain repentance flow;
His locks he rends, his trembling feet he rears,
Thick beats his heart with unaccustom'd fears;
He sighs, and chill'd with danger, longs for shore:
His tail extended forms a fruitless oar,
Half drench'd in liquid death his prayers he spake,
And thus bemoan'd him from the dreadful lake.
So pass'd Europa through the rapid sea,
Trembling and fainting all the vent'rous way;
With oary feet the bull triumphant row'd
And safe in Crete deposed his lovely load.
Ah safe at last! may thus the frog support
My trembling limbs to reach his ample court.
As thus he sorrows, death ambiguous grows,
Lo! from the deep a water-hydra rose;
He rolls his sanguined eyes, his bosom heaves,
And darts with active rage along the waves.
Confused the monarch sees his hissing foe,
And dives, to shun the sable fates, below.
Forgetful frog! The friend thy shoulders bore,
Unskill'd in swimming, floats remote from shore.
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