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THE WORKS OF MOSCHUS.
O Solitude, on me bestow
Graingeh's Ode On Somtobe.
IDYLLfUM I. .«starch of her son, to the listening crowd, "ether day lovely Venus thus cry'd him aloud: Whoever may chance a stray Cupid to meet, My vagabond boy, as he strolls in the street. Arid will bring me the news, his reward shall 'be this,
He may freely demand of fair Venus a kiss;
To the regions below, and their terrible king, ha body quite naked to view is reveal'd, Bat be covers his mind, and his thoughts are 'conceal'd.
Like a bird light of feather, the branches among, He (kips here and there, to the old, to the young, from the men to the maids on a sudden he strays, Aod hid in their hearts on their vitals he preys. The how which he carries is little and light, On the nerve is an arrow wing'd ready for 'flight,
'* little short arrow, yet swiftly it flies
'Though regions) of ether, and pierces the flues.
'A quiver of gold on his shoulders is bound, , 'Stor'd with darts, that alike friends and enemies • wound:
'Ev'n I, his own mother, in vain strive to shun 'His arrows—so fell and so cruel my son, 'His torch is but small, yet so ardent its ray, 'It scorches the fun, and extinguishes day. 'O you, who perchance may the fugitive find, 'Secure first his hands, and with manacles bind; 40 'Show the rogue no companion, though oft he 'appears
* To weep—his are all hypocritical tears. 'With caution conduct him, nor let him beguile 'Your vigilant care with a treacherous smile. 'Perhaps with a laugh kisses sweet he will proffer; 'His kisses are poison, ah! shun the vile offer. 'Perhaps he'll fay, sobbing," No mischief I know; "Here take all my arrows, my darts, and my "bow!" [aim; 'Ah! beware, touch them not—deceitful his aim; 'His darts and his arrows are all tipt with Same.'
The Queen of Love, on amorous wiles intent,
With louder zeal: * The beauteous nymph, see 'said,
* Her daughter was, aud in her bosom bred.'
The fair Europa, struck with sudden dread, AH pale and trembling started from her bed; £ilent she sat, and thought the vision true, Still seem'd their forms to strive before her view: At length she utter'd thus the voice of fear; « "Ye gods, what spectres to my fight appear? «' What dreams are these, in fancy's livery drest, *' That haunt my steep, and break my golden rest? "And who that form that seem'd so wond'rous "kind?
« The dear idea still delights my mind. 30 "She. like a mother, press'd me in her arms! ~\ "But, O ye gods! that fend such strange »-( "larms, f "Preserve these visionary scenes from harms "J
She said, and lightly from her couch she sprung, Then sought her comrades, beautiful and young, Her social mates; with them (he lov'd to lave Her limbs unblemifh'd in the crystal wave: With them an lawns the sprightly dance to lead, Or pluck sweet lilies iri the flowery mead. The nymphs assembled soon, a beauteous band ! 40 With each a curious basket in her hand; Then rcach'd those field* where oft they play'dT nefore, I The fragrant fields along the sea-beat shore, s To gather flowers, and hear the billows roar. J
Europa's basket, radiant to behold,
Jove tooappear'd enamour'd on the strand,
Some the gilt crocus or pale lily chose,
meant; [m! Then turn'd his suppliant eyes, and viewM Who thus, astniiifh'd to her comrades said: "Say dearest mates, w hat can this beast
"Let us (for lo! he sloops) his back afeeni, "And ride in sportive gambols round the me "This lovely bull is sure of gentlest brccJ; "So meek his manner, so'benign his mind, "He wants but voice to equal human kind."
So speke the fair, and up flie rose to ride, And call'd her lingering partners to her side Soon as the bull his pleasing burden here. Vigorous he sprung, and h ist n'd to the flioi The nymph dismay'd invok'd the virgin basi1 For help, and wav'd her unavailing hand. On the soft bosom of the azure flood With his fair prize the bull triumphant rode Up-rosc the Nereids to attend his train, And all the- mighty monsters of the main. Cerulean Neptune was the Thunderer*6 guid And for the pasting pomp he smoothed the tt The T< itons hail'd him as he steer'd along, And sourded on their conchs the nuptial son On J'ivc's broad baek the lovely damsel bort Graip'd with her lair right haed his po! horn,
Hale/t ellay'd her purple robe to save,
Sj fca-beat (bore she saw, nor mountain's brow,
* Who, aid whence art thou, wond'rous creature,
'Howean'fl thou fearless tread the wat'ry way .'
* On tbc broad ocean safely saiU the,ship,
"Sot ball, avoid, and dread the stormy deep. HO
"1 bull on sea-born viands feed .'
"Or Kdefended from celestial breed,
"ihyactiare inconsistent with a god: [flood;
"Soft rove the meads, and dolphins swim the
"Sm earth and ocean are alike to thee. [sea.
"Thy hoofs are oars that row thee through the
"Perhaps, like airy birds, tbou soon wilt sly,
'Aal soar amidst the regions of the sky.
"Al! wretched maid, to leave my native home,
* Aid limply dare with bulls in meads to roam' "And Dow on seas I ride—ah! wretched maid! 161
* But, 01 I trust, great Neptune, in thy aid; "Soon let my eyes my great conductor hail, 'Fw not without a deity I fail."
Thutspoke the nymph, and thus the bull reply'd: 'Courage, fair maid, nor fear the foaming tide: 'Though now a bull I seem to mortal eye', 1 Thou soon shalt see me ruler of the skies. 'What shape I please, at will I take and keep, ■ Aad now a bull 1 cross the boundless deep; 170 "For thy bright charms inspire my breast with "love:
'Bjt soon shall Crete's fair isle, the nurse of Jove,
I r fcon Crete's lofty shore appear'd in view:
& loos'd her zone; the Hours the couch pre
"« ojniph Europa thus, through powerful love, Staœc the bride of cloud-compelling Jove: trTM her sprung mighty kings in long array, *i» rul'd the world w ith delegated sway.
ON THE DIATH 0» BIO H
II woods, with grief your waving summits bow, )' Dorian fountains, murmur as ye flow,
■'•tn weeping urns your copious sorrows shed,
Yc roses change from red to sickly pale,
And, all yc bright anemonies, bewail: 10
Now, hyacinth, thy doleful letters show
Inscribed in larger characters of woe
For Bion dead, the sweetest shepherd swains
Begin, Sicilian Muse, begin the mournful strain! Ye nightingales, that perch among the sprays, Tune to meoldious elegy your lays, And bid the streams of Arethuse deplore Bion's fad fate; lov'd Bion is no more: Nor verse nor music could hi- life prolong, He died, and with him died the Doric song. Mt
Begin, Sicilian Muse, the mournful strain! Ye swans of Strymon, in loud notes complain, Pensive, yet sweet, and droop, the sickly wing, As when your own lad elegy ye sing. All the fair damsels of Oeagria tell, And all the nymphs that in Bistonia dwell, That Doric Orpheus charms no more the plains.
Begin, Sicilian Muse, begin the mournful strains! No more he sooths his uxen at the yoke, No more he chants beneath the lonely oak. 30 Compell'd, alas! a doleful dirge to sing To the grim god, the deaf Tartarean king. And now each straggling heifer strays alone, And to the silent mountains makes her moan;. The bulls loud bellowing o'er the forests rove, Forsake their pasture, and forget their love.
Begin, Sicilian Muse, the mournful lay!
Mute Echo now laments the rocks among,
Begin, Sicilian Mule, begin the mournful lay!
Ecgin, Sicilian Muse, the mournful lay! The nightingales, that perch upon the spray. The swallows shrill, and all the seather'd throng, Whom Bion taught, and ravish'd with his song, Now funk in grief their pensive music ply, And strive to sing their master's eleg; And all the birds in all the g'oves around Strain their sweet throats to emulate the sound: 7* Ye turtles too, the gentle bard deplore,
And with dee-i murmurs fill the founding shore.
Begin, Sicilian Muse, the mournful lay: Who now, lov'd shepherd, on thy pipe (hall play? Still, still, methinka, the melting notes I hear, But ah' more faint they die Unon my ear. Echo, still listening, roves the meads along, Or near the rocks still meditates thy song. To Pan 1 11 give thy tuneful pipe, though he Will fear, perchance, to be surpass d by thee. So
Begin. Sicilian Muse, the mournful stiain! Thee Galatea weeps, sweet shepherd-swain; For oft thy graceful form her busom warm'd, Thy song delighted, and thy music charm'd: She fhunn'd the Cyclops, and his numbers rude, But thee with ardent love the nymph pursu'd: She left the sea, her elemant, and feeds, Forlorn, thy cattle on the flowery meads.
Begin, Sicilian Muse, the mournful lay! Alas 1 the msrfes will no longer stay, 90 No longer on these lonely coasts abide; With thee they warbled and with thee they died: With Bion perifh'd all the grace of song, And all the kisses of ihe fair and young. The little Loves, lamenting at his doom, Strike their fair breasts, and weep around his tomb. See Venus too her beauteous bosom beat? She lov'd her shepherd more than kisses sweet, More than those last dear kisses, which in death She gave Adonis, and imbib'd his breath. IOO As eles I of streams in melody the chief, Now heaves thy bosom with another grief; Thy Homer died, great master of the song. Thy Homer died, the Muses iweetest tongue: Then did thy waves in plaintive murmur weep, And roll'd thy swelling sorrows to the deep: Another son demands the meed of woe, Again thy waters weep in long-drawn 11 urmurs flow.
Dear to the fountains was each tunefulson,
This drank of Arethuse, that Helicon: 110
He sung Atrides' and Achilles' ire,
And the fair dame that set the world on fire:
This iorm'd his numbers on a softer plan,
And chaunted shepherds loves, and peaceful Pan;
Hi* flock he tended on the flower meads.
And milk'd his kine, or join'd with wax the reeds;
Oft in his bosom he would Cupid take,
And Venus lov'd him for her Cupid's fake.
Begin, Sicilian Muse, the mournful strains! Thee all the cities of the hills and plains, 119 Illustrious bard, in silent grief deplore; A sera for Hesiod ne'er lamented more; Not thus Bceotia moum'd her Thcban swan, JJer thus the tears for bold Alcœus ran; Not Ceosfor Simonides, nor thus Griev'd Paros for her bard Archilocus: The shepherds of the Lesbian isle have long Neglected Sappho's for thy sweeter song: And all that breathe the patt'ral reed rehearse Thy sate, O Bion, in harmonious verse, 130 Sicelida;, the Samian shepherd sweet, And Lycidas, the blithest bard of Crote, Whole sprightly looks erst spoke their hearts elate, Now sorrowing mourn thy fad untimely fate;
Mourns to Philetas' elegiac muse,
And sweet Theocritus of Syracuse:
I too, with tears, from Italy have brought
Such plain bucolics as my master taught;
Which, if at all with tuneful ease they flow,
To thy learn'd precepts and thy art I owe, 140
To other heirs thy riches may belong,
I claim thy past'ral pipe and Doric song;
In Doric song my pensive boon I pay:
Begin, Sicilian Muse, begin the mournful lay'.
Soon as the hand of death has clos'd our eyes, Ij«
Hear heavenly music with a murderous thought!
Begin, Sicilian Muse, begin the mournful lay! But soon just vengeance will his crime pursue, . While I with pious tears thy tomb bedew. Could I like Orpheus, as old poets tell, Or mighty Hercules, descend to hell; I?0 To Pluto's dreary mansion I would go, To hear what music Bion plays below. List to my counsel gentle shepherd swain, And softly warble some Sicilian strain, (Such as, when living, gave divine delight) To sooth the empress of the realms of night: For she, ere Pluto feiz'd the trembling maid, Sung D>rian lays, and in these meadows play'd. Nor unrewarded shall thy numbers prove, The dame will tity, though she cannot love: I?C At once she heard the Thracian's tuneful prayer, And gave him back Eurydice the fair. She'll pity now thy more melodious strain, And fend thee to thy hills and woods again. Could I in powerful harmony excel, [hell. For thee my pipe should charm the rigid king ol
"Why these complaints, and whence that dread
"ful sigh? <* Why on thy cheek do thus the roses die?
Is it to see thy glorious fun sustain, >' From worthless hands, pre-eminence of pain? ■' A lion tortur'd by a fawn—Great Jove! i* Why such injurious treatment must. 1 piove?