SPECIMENS OF TRANSLATION FROM MEDEA. Σκαιες δε λέγων, καδὲν τι σοφές Tus goods Beorus en av apagtois. Medea, v. 194. p. 33, Glasg. edit. TELL me, ye bards, whose skill sublime First charm'd the ear of youthful Time, Why can no bard, with magic strain, In slumbers steep the heart of pain? Bends not despairing Grief to hear Your golden lute, with ravish'd ear? Oh! has your sweetest shell no power to bind The fiercer pangs that shake the mind, And lull the wrath, at whose command Murder bares her gory hand? When flush'd with joy, the rosy throng Weave the light dance, ye swell the song! The breast with other raptures warm! SPEECH OF THE CHORUS IN THE SAME TRAGEDY, TO DISSUADE MEDEA FROM HER PURPOSE OF PUTTING HER CHILDREN TO DEATH, AND FLYING FOR PROTECTION TO ATHENS. The land where Truth, pure, precious, and sublime, Woos the deep silence of sequester'd bowers, And warriors, matchless since the first of Time, Rear their bright banners o'er unconquer'd towers! Where joyous youth, to Music's mellow strain, Twines in the dance with nymphs for ever fair, While Spring eternal, on the lilied plain, Waves amber radiance through the fields of air! The tuneful Nine (so sacred legends tell) First wak'd their heavenly lyre these scenes among; Still in your greenwood bowers they love to dwell; Still in your vales they swell the choral song! But there the tuneful, chaste, Pierian fair, The guardian nymphs of green Parnassus, now Sprung from Harmonia, while her graceful hair Wav'd in bright auburn o'er her polish'd brow! ANTISTROPHE I. Where silent vales, and glades of green array, The murm'ring wreaths of cool Cephisus lave, There, as the Muse hath sung, at noon of day, The Queen of Beauty bow'd to taste the wave; And blest the stream, and breath'd across the land, The soft sweet gale that fans yon summer bowers; And there the sister Loves, a smiling band, Crown'd with the fragrant wreaths of rosy flowers! "And go," she cries, "in yonder valleys rove, With Beauty's torch the solemn scenes illume; Wake in each eye the radiant light of Love, Breathe on each cheek young Passion's tender bloom! |