EPIGRAMS ON HIS GARDEN-SHED.
BEWARE of building! I intended
Rough logs and thatch,—and thus it ended.
Instead of a pound or two, spending a mint Must serve me at least, I believe, with a hint That, building and building, a man may be driven At last out of doors, and have no house to live in.
IN OCEANO GERMANICO NATANTES.
EN, quæ prodigia, ex oris allata remotis, Oras adveniunt pavefacta per æquora nostras! Non equidem priscæ sæclum rediisse videtur Pyrrhæ, cum Proteus pecus altos visere montes Et sylvas, egit. Sed tempora vix leviora Adsunt, evulsi quando radicitùs alti
In mare descendunt montes, fluctusque pererrant. Quid verò hoc monstri est magis et mirabile visu? Splendentes video, ceu pulchro ex ære vel auro Conflatos, rutilisque accinctos undique geminis, Baccâ cæruleâ, et flammas imitante pyropo. Ex oriente adsunt, ubi gazas optima tellus Parturit omnigenas, quibus æva per omnia sumptu Ingenti finxêre sibi diademata reges?
Vix hoc crediderim. Non fallunt talia acutos Mercatorum oculos: prius et quàm littora Gangis Liquissent, avidis gratissima præda fuissent. Ortos unde putemus? An illos Ves'vius atrox Protulit, ignivomis ve ejecit faucibus Ætna? Luce micant propriâ, Phœbive, per aëra purum Nunc stimulantis equos, argentea tela retorquent ? Phoebi luce micant. Ventis et fluctibus altis Appulsi, et rapidis subter currentibus undis, Tandem non fallunt oculos.
Multâ onerata nive et canis conspersa pruinis.
Cætera sunt glacies. Procul hinc, ubi Bruma ferè omnes Contristat menses, portenta hæc horrida nobis
Illa strui voluit. Quoties de culmine summo
Clivorum fluerent in littora prona, solutæ Sole, nives, propero tendentes in mare cursu, Illa gelu fixit. Paulatim attollere sese Mirum cœpit opus; glacieque ab origine rerum In glaciem aggestâ sublimes vertice tandem Aquavit montes, non crescere nescia moles. Sic immensa diu stetit, æternumque stetisset Congeries, hominum neque vi neque mobilis arte, Littora ni tandem declivia deseruisset, Pondere victa suo. Dilabitur. Omnia circum Antra et saxa gemunt, subito concussa fragore, Dum ruit in pelagum, tanquam studiosa natandi, Ingens tota strues. Sic Delos dicitur olim, Insula, in Ægæo fluitâsse erratica ponto. Sed non ex glacie Delos; neque torpida Delum Bruma inter rupes genuit nudum sterilemque. Sed vestita herbis erat illa, ornataque nunquam Deciduâ lauro; et Delum dilexit Apollo. At vos, errones horrendi, et caligine digni Cimmeriâ, Deus idem odit. Natalia vestra, Nubibus involvens frontem, non ille tueri Sustinuit. Patrium vos ergo requirite cælum ! Ite! Redite! Timete moras; ni lenitèr austro Spirante, et nitidas Phoebo jaculante sagittas Hostili vobis, pereatis gurgite misti ! March 11, 1799.
SEEN FLOATING IN THE GERMAN OCEAN.
WHAT portents, from what distant region, ride, Unseen till now in ours, the astonished tide? In ages past, old Proteus, with his droves
Of sea-calves, sought the mountains and the groves; But now, descending whence of late they stood, Themselves the mountains seem to rove the flood; Dire times were they, full-charged with human woes; And these, scarce less calamitous than those. What view we now? More wondrous still! Behold! Like burnished brass they shine, or beaten gold; And all around the pearl's pure splendour show, And all around the ruby's fiery glow.
Come they from India, where the burning earth, All bounteous, gives her richest treasures birth; And where the costly gems that beam around The brows of mightiest potentates are found? No. Never such a countless dazzling store Had left, unseen, the Ganges' peopled shore;
Rapacious hands, and ever-watchful eyes,
Should sooner far have marked and seized the prize. Whence sprang they then? Ejected have they come From Ves'vius', or from Ætna's burning womb? Thus shine they self-illumed, or but display The borrowed splendours of a cloudless day?
With borrowed beams they shine. The gales, that breathe Now landward, and the current's force beneath, Have borne them nearer; and the nearer sight, Advantaged more, contemplates them aright. Their lofty summits crested high, they show, With mingled sleet, and long-incumbent snow: The rest is ice. Far hence, where, most severe, Bleak Winter well-nigh saddens all the year, Their infant growth began. He bade arise Their uncouth forms, portentous in our eyes. Oft as, dissolved by transient suns, the snow Left the tall cliff to join the flood below, He caught and curdled with a freezing blast The current, ere it reached the boundless waste. By slow degrees uprose the wondrous pile, And long successive ages rolled the while, Till, ceaseless in its growth, it claimed to stand Tall as its rival mountains on the land. Thus stood, and, unremovable by skill
Or force of man, had stood the structure still; But that, though firmly fixed, supplanted yet By pressure of its own enormous weight,
It left the shelving beach, -and with a sound That shook the bellowing waves and rocks around, Self-launched, and swiftly, to the briny wave, As if instinct with strong desire to lave,
Down went the ponderous mass. So bards of old How Delos swam the Egean deep have told.
But not of ice was Delos. Delos bore
Herb, fruit, and flower. She, crowned with laurel, wore, Even under wintry skies, a summer smile;
And Delos was Apollo's favourite isle. But, horrid wanderers of the deep, to you He deems Cimmerian darkness only due. Your hated birth he deigned not to survey, But, scornful, turned his glorious eyes away. Hence Seek your home, nor longer rashly dare The darts of Phoebus, and a softer air; Lest ye regret, too late, your native coast, In no congenial gulf for ever lost!
ON A MISTAKE IN HIS TRANSLATION OF HOMER.
COWPER had sinned with some excuse,
If, bound in rhyming tethers, He had committed this abuse Of changing ewes for wethers.
But male for female is a trope, A rather bold misnomer, That would have startled even Pope, When he translated Homer.
OBSCUREST night involved the sky, The Atlantic billows roared, When such a destined wretch as I, Washed headlong from on board, Of friends, of hope, of all bereft, His floating home for ever left.
No braver chief could Albion boast Than he with whom he went, Nor ever ship left Albion's coast
With warmer wishes sent.
He loved them both, but both in vain, Nor him beheld, nor her again.
Not long beneath the whelming brine, Expert to swim, he lay; Nor soon he felt his strength decline, Or courage die away; But waged with death a lasting strife, Supported by despair of life.
He shouted nor his friends had failed To check the vessel's course, But so the furious blast prevailed, That, pitiless perforce,
They left their outcast mate behind, And scudded still before the wind.
Some succour yet they could afford;
And such as storms allow, The cask, the coop, the floated cord, Delayed not to bestow.
But he (they knew) nor ship nor shore, Whate'er they gave, should visit more.
Nor, cruel as it seemed, could he
Their haste himself condemn, Aware that flight, in such a sea,
Alone could rescue them; Yet bitter felt it still to die Deserted, and his friends so nigh.
He long survives, who lives an hour In ocean, self-upheld ;
And so long he, with unspent power, His destiny repelled; And ever, as the minutes flew, Entreated help, or cried "Adieu !"
At length, his transient respite past, His comrades, who before Had heard his voice in every blast,
Could catch the sound no more: For then, by toil subdued, he drank The stifling wave, and then he sank.
No poet wept him; but the page Of narrative sincere, That tells his name, his worth, his age, Is wet with Anson's tear : And tears by bards or heroes shed Alike immortalize the dead.
I therefore purpose not, or dream, Descanting on his fate,
To give the melancholy theme
A more enduring date: But misery still delights to trace Its semblance in another's case.
No voice divine the storm allayed,
No light propitious shone, When, snatched from all effectual aid, We perished, each alone : But I beneath a rougher sea,
And whelmed in deeper gulfs than he,
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