Cyclops. Ah me! my eyesight is parched up to cinders. Chorus. What a sweet pæan ! sing me that again! Cyclops. Ah me! indeed, what woe has fallen upon me! But wretched nothings, think ye not to flee Out of this rock; I, standing at the outlet, Are sprained with standing here, I know Will bar the way and catch you as you I know ye better.-I will use the aid Of my own comrades-yet though weak of hand Speak cheerfully, that so ye may awaken The courage of my friends with your blithe words. Chorus. This I will do with peril of my life, Chorus. What, did you fall into the fire when drunk? Cyclops. 'Twas Nobody destroyed me. Chorus. Can be to blame. Cyclops. Who blinded me. Chorus. blind. Why then no one I say 'twas Nobody Why then you are not Cyclops. I wish you were as blind as I am. Chorus. Nay, It cannot be that no one made you blind. Cyclops. You jeer me; where, I ask, is Nobody? Chorus. Nowhere, O Cyclops. Cyclops. It was that stranger ruined me-the wretch First gave me wine and then burnt out my eye, And blind you with my exhortations, For wine is strong and hard to struggle Chorus. You have them. Cyclops. Near the rock itself. I will descend upon the shore, though on misfortune! I've cracked my skull. Chorus. there. Cyclops. say so. Chorus. blind, Oh, misfortune Groping my way adown the steep Now they escape you Not there, although you Cyclops. Where then? Chorus. Not on that side. They creep about you on your left. Cyclops. Ah! I am mocked! They jeer me in my ills. Chorus. Not there! he is a little there beyond you. Cyclops. Detested wretch! where are you? Ulysses. Far from you I keep with care this body of Ulysses. Cyclops. What do you say? You proffer a new name. Ulysses. My father named me so; and I have taken A full revenge for your unnatural feast; I should have done ill to have burned down Troy And not revenged the murder of my comrades. Cyclops. Ai! ai! the ancient oracle is accomplished; It said that I should have my eyesight blinded By you coming from Troy, yet it foretold That you should pay the penalty for this By wandering long over the homeless sea. Ulysses. I bid thee weep-consider what I say, ravine. Chorus. And we, the shipmates of Will serve our Bacchus all our happy lives. EPIGRAMS I. TO STELLA FROM THE GREEK OF PLATO THOU wert the morning star among the living, Ere thy fair light had fled;——— Now, having died, thou art as Hesperus, giving New splendour to the dead. II. KISSING HELENA FROM THE GREEK OF PLATO KISSING Helena, together With my kiss, my soul beside it Came to my lips, and there I kept it, For the poor thing had wandered thither, To follow where the kiss should guide it, Oh, cruel I, to intercept it! III. SPIRIT OF PLATO FROM THE GREEK EAGLE! why soarest thou above that tomb? I go towards the shore to drive my ship wave. Cyclops. Not so, if whelming you with this huge stone I can crush you and all your men together; I am the image of swift Plato's spirit, Ascending heaven-Athens doth inherit His corpse below. IV. CIRCUMSTANCE FROM THE GREEK A MAN who was about to hang himself, Finding a purse, then threw away his rope; The owner, coming to reclaim his pelf, The halter found and used it. So is Hope Changed for Despair-one laid upon the shelf, A deeper Venus bears upon her heart. See, his beloved dogs are gathering round The Oread nymphs are weeping— Aphrodite With hair unbound is wandering thro' the woods, Wildered, ungirt, thorns pierce unsandalled - the Her hastening feet and drink her sacred blood. Bitterly screaming out she is driven on We take the other. Under heaven's Thro' the long vales; and her Assyrian high cope boy, Fortune is God-all you endure and do Her love, her husband calls-the purple Depends on circumstance as much as blood From his struck thigh stains her white navel now, Her bosom, and her neck before like That I may kiss thee now for the last Tempt my unquiet mind.—But w time the roar foam But for as long as one short kiss may Of Ocean's gray abyss resounds, z live Oh let thy breath flow from thy dying soul Even to my mouth and heart, that may suck That.. Gathers upon the sea, and vast was: II turn from the drear aspect to the E FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON Whose house is some lone bark, whose THE DEATH OF BION FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS YE Dorian woods and waves lament aloud, Augment your tide, O streams, with fruitless tears, For the beloved Bion is no more. flower, toil the sea, Whose prey the wandering fish, an ev lot Has chosen. But I my languid limb will fling Beneath the plane, where the brookmurmuring Moves the calm spirit, but disturbs not. From each dejected bud and drooping PAN, ECHO, AND THE SATYR bloom, |