STUDIOUS the busy moments to deceive,
That fleet between the cradle and the grave,
I credit what the Grecian dictates say,
And Samian sounds o'er Scotia's hills convey,
When mortal man resigns his transient breath,
The body only I give o'er to death;
The parts dissolv'd and broken frame I mourn :
What came from earth I see to earth return.
The immaterial part, the ethereal soul,
Nor can change vanquish, nor can death control.
Glad I release it from its partner's cares,
And bid good angels waft it to the stars.
Then in the flowing bowl I drown those sighs,
Which, spite of wisdom, from our weakness rise.
The draught to the dead's memory I commend,
And offer to the now immortal friend.
But if oppos'd to what my thoughts approve,
Nor Pluto's rage there be, nor power of Jove;
On its dark side if thou the prospect take;
Grant all forgot beyond black Lethe's lake:
In total death suppose the mortal lie,
No new hereafter, nor a future sky:
Yet bear thy lot content! yet cease to grieve:
Why, ere death comes, dost thou forbear to live?
The little time thou hast, 'twixt instant now
And fate's approach, is all the gods allow :
And of this little hast thou aught to spare
To sad reflection, and corroding care?
The moments past, if thou art wise, retrieve
With pleasant memory of the bliss they gave.
The present hours in present mirth employ,
And bribe the future with the hopes of joy:
The future (few or more, howe'er they be)
Were destin'd erst; nor can by fate's decree
Be now cut off, betwixt the grave and thee.
THE FIRST HYMN OF CALLIMACHUS.
WHILE We to Jove select the holy victim,
Whom apter shall we sing, than Jove himself,
The god for ever great, for ever king,
Who slew the earth-born race, and measures right To Heaven's great habitants? Dictaan hear'st thou
More joyful, or Lycæan, long dispute
And various thought has trac'd. On Ida's Mount,
Or Dicte, studious of his country's praise,
The Cretan boasts thy natal place: but oft
He meets reproof deserv'd: for he presumptuous
Has built a tomb for thee, who never know'st
To die, but liv'st the same to-day and ever.
Arcadian therefore be thy birth: Great Rhea
Pregnant to high Parrhasia's cliffs retir'd,
And wild Lycæus, black with shading pines:
Holy retreat! Sithence no female hither,
Conscious of social love and nature's rites,
Must dare approach, from the inferior reptile
To woman, form divine. There the blest parent
Ungirt her spacious bosom, and discharg'd
The ponderous birth: she sought a neighbouring spring
To wash the recent babe in vain: Arcadia,
(However streamy) now adust and dry,
Denied the goddess water; where deep Melas,
And rocky Cratis flow, the chariot smok'd,
Obscure with rising dust: the thirsty traveller
In vain requir'd the current, then imprison'd
In subterraneous caverns: forests grew
Upon the barren hollows, high o'ershading
The haunts of savage beasts, where now Iaon
And Erimanth incline their friendly urns.
Thou too, O Earth, great Rhea said, bring forth; And short shall be thy pangs. She said; and high She rear'd her arm, and with her sceptre struck The yawning cliff; from its disparted height Adown the mount the gushing torrent ran,
And cheer'd the valleys: there the heavenly mother Bath'd, mighty king, thy tender limbs: she wrapt them
In purple bands: she gave the precious pledge
To prudent Neda, charging her to guard thee,
Careful and secret: Neda, of the nymphs
That tended the great birth, next Philyre
And Styx, the eldest. Smiling, she receiv'd thee,
And conscious of the grace, absolv'd her trust:
Not unrewarded; since the river bore
The favourite virgin's name: fair Neda rolls
By Lerpion's ancient walls, a faithful stream.
Fast by her flowery banks the sons of Arcas,
Favourites of Heaven, with happy care protect
Their fleecy charge; and joyous drink her wave.
Thee, god, to Cnossus Neda brought: the nymphs
And Corybantes thee, their sacred charge,
Receiv'd: Adraste rock'd thy golden cradle:
The goat, now bright amidst her fellow stars,
Kind Amalthea, reach'd her teat distent
With milk, thy early food: the sedulous bee
Distill'd her honey on thy purple lips.
Around, the fierce Curetes (order solemn
To thy foreknowing mother!) trod tumultuous
Their mystic dance, and clang'd their sounding
Industrious with the warlike din to quell
Thy infant cries and mock the ear of Saturn:
Swift growth and wondrous grace, O heavenly Jove,
Waited thy blooming years: inventive wit,
And perfect judgment, crown'd thy youthful act.
That Saturn's sons receiv'd the three fold empire
Of Heaven, of ocean, and deep hell beneath,
As the dark urn and chance of lot determin'd,
Old poets mention, fabling. Things of moment
Well nigh equivalent and neighbouring value
By lot are parted: but high Heaven, thy share,
In equal balance laid 'gainst sea or hell,
Flings up the adverse scale, and shuns proportion. Wherefore not chance, but power, above thy
Exalted thee, their king. When thy great will
Commands thy chariot forth, impetuous strength,
And fiery swiftness wing the rapid wheels,
Incessant; high the eagle flies before thee,
And oh! as I and mine consult thy augur,
Grant the glad omen: let thy favourite rise
Propitious, ever soaring from the right.
Thou to the lesser gods hast well assign'd
Their proper shares of power: thy own, great Jove,
Boundless and universal. Those who labour
The sweaty forge, who edge the crooked scythe,
Bend stubborn steel, and harden gleening armour,
Acknowledge Vulcan's aid. The early hunter
Blesses Diana's hand, who leads him safe
O'er hanging cliffs, who spreads his net successful,
And guides the arrow through the panther's heart,
The soldier, from successful camps returning
With laurel wreath'd, and rich with hostile spoil,
Severs the bull to Mars. The skilful bard,
Striking the Thracian harp, invokes Apollo,
To make his hero and himself immortal.
Those, mighty Jove, meantime, thy glorious care,
Who model nations, publish laws, announce
Or life or death, and found or change the empire.
Man owns the power of kings; and kings of Jove.
And, as their actions tend subordinate
To what thy will designs, thou giv'st the means
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