On its dark fide if thou the profpect take;
Grant all forgot beyond black Lethe's lake;
In total death fuppofe the mortal lie,
No new hereafter, nor a future sky:
Yet bear thy lot content; yet cease to grieve:
Why, ere death comes, doft thou forbear to live?
The little time thou haft, 'twixt inftant now
And Fate's approach, is all the Gods allow :
And of this little haft thou aught to fpare
To fad reflection, and corroding care?
The moments paft, if thou art wife, retrieve
With pleafant memory of the blifs they gave.
The prefent hours in prefent mirth employ,
And bribe the future with the hopes of joy:
The future (few or more, howe'er they be)
Were deftin'd erft; nor can by Fate's decree
Be now cut off betwixt the grave and thee.
FIRST HYMN OF CALLIMACHUS.
WHILE we to Jove select the holy victim,
Whom apter fhall we fing, than Jove himself,
The God for ever great, for ever king,
Who flew the Earth-born race, and measures right To heaven's great habitants? Dictaan hear'ft thou More joyful, or Lycæan, long difpute
And various thought has trac'd. On Ida's mount,
Or Dicte, ftudious of his country's praife,
The Cretan boasts thy natal place: but oft'
He meets reproof deferv'd: for he prefumptuous
Has built a tomb for thee, who never know'st
To die, but liv'ft the fame to-day and ever.
Arcadian therefore be thy birth: Great Rhea,
Pregnant to high Parrhafia's cliffs retir'd,
And wild Lycæus, black with fhading pines:
Holy retreat! fithence no female hither,
Confcious of focial love and nature's rites,
Muft dare approach, from the inferior reptile
To woman, form divine. There the bleft parent
Ungirt her fpacious bofom, and difcharg'd
The ponderous birth; fhe fought a neighbouring spring
To wash the recent babe; in vain : Arcadia,
(However streamy) now aduft and dry,
Deny'd the Goddess water; where deep Melas
And rocky Cratis flow, the chariot fmoak'd,
Obfcure with rifing duft: the thirsty traveller
In vain requir'd the current, then imprifon'd
In fubterraneous caverns: forefts
grew
Upon the barren hollows, high o'ershading
The haunts of favage beafts, where now Iaon
And Erimanth incline their friendly urns.
Thou too, O Earth, great Rhea faid, bring forth;
And short shall be thy pangs. She faid; and high
She rear'd her arm, and with her fceptre ftruck
The yawning cliff: from its difparted height
Adown the mount the gushing torrent ran,
And cheer'd the vallies: there the heavenly mother
Bath'd, mighty king, thy tender limbs : she wrapt them
In purple bands: fhe gave the precious pledge
To prudent Neda, charging her to guard thee,
Careful and fecret; Neda, of the nymphs
That tended the great birth, next Philyre
And Styx, the eldeft. Smiling, she receiv'd thee,
And, conscious of the grace, abfolv'd her trust :
Not unrewarded; fince the river bore
The favourite virgin's name; fair Neda rolls
By Leprion's ancient walls, a fruitful stream.
Faft by her flowery bank the fons of Arcas,
Favourites of Heaven, with happy care protect
Their fleecy charge; and joyous drink her wave.
Thee, God, to Cnoffus Neda brought; the nymphs
And Corybantes thee, their facred charge,
Receiv'd: Adrafte rock'd thy golden cradle :
The goat, now bright amidst her fellow-ftars,
Kind Amalthea, reach'd her teat diftent
With milk, thy early food: the fedulous bee
Diftill'd her honey on thy purple lips.
Around, the fierce Curetes (order folemn
To thy fore-knowing mother!) trod tumultuous
Their myftic dance, and clang'd their founding arms,
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 fons 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 fhare,
In equal balance laid 'gainst fea or hell,
Flings up the adverse scale, and fhuns proportion.
Wherefore not chance, but power above thy brethren,
Exalted thee their king. When thy great will
Commands thy chariot forth, impetuous strength.
And fiery swiftness wing the rapid wheels,
Inceffant; high the eagle flies before thee..
And oh! as I and mine confult thy augur,
Grant the glad omen; let thy favourite rise
Propitious, ever foaring from the right.
Thou to the leffer Gods haft well affign'd
Their proper fhares of power: thy own, great Jove,
Boundless and univerfal. Thofe who labour
The fweaty forge, who edge the crooked scythe,
Bend ftubborn steel, and harden gleening armour,
Acknowledge Vulcan's aid. The early hunter
Bleffes Diana's hand, who leads him fafe
O'er hanging cliffs, who spreads his net fuccessful,
And guides the arrow through the panther's heart.
The foldier, from fuccessful 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.
Thofe, mighty Jove, mean time, 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 fubordinate
To what thy will defigns, thou giv'ft the means
Proportion'd to the work; thou feest impartial
How they those means employ. Each monarch rules
His different realm, accountable to thee,
Great ruler of the world: these only have
To fpeak and be obey'd; to those are given
Affiftant days to ripen the design;
To fome whole months, revolving years to fome;
Others, ill-fated, are condemn'd to toil
Their tedious life, and mourn their purpose blasted
With fruitless act, and impotence of council.
Hail! greateft fon of Saturn, wife difpofer
Of every good: thy praise what man yet born
Has fung? or who that may be born fhall fing?
Again, and often hail! indulge our prayer,
Great father! grant us virtue, grant us wealth :
For, without virtue, wealth no man avails not ;
And virtue without wealth exerts lefs power,
And lefs diffuses good. Then grant us, gracious,
Virtue and wealth; for both are of thy gift!
|