"Who made this earth their charnel. Others, more Humble, like falcons, sat upon the fist Of common men, and round their heads did soar; "Or, like small gnats and flies as thick as mist On evening marshes, thronged about the brow Of lawyer, statesman, priest, and theorist ;— "And others, like discoloured flakes of snow, On fairest bosoms and the sunniest hair Fell, and were melted by the youthful glow "Which they extinguished; and, like tears, they were A veil to those from whose faint lids they rained In drops of sorrow. I became aware "Of whence those forms proceeded which thus stained The track in which we moved. After brief space, From every form the beauty slowly waned; "From every firmest limb and fairest face The strength and freshness fell like dust, and left The action and the shape without the grace "Of life. The marble brow of youth was cleft With care; and, in those eyes where once hope shone, Desire, like a lioness bereft "Of her last cub, glared ere it died. Each one Of that great crowd sent forth incessantly These shadows, numerous as the dead leaves blown "In autumn evening from a poplar tree. "Obscure clouds moulded by the casual air; And of this stuff the car's creative ray Wrapped all the busy phantoms that were there, "As the sun shapes the clouds. Thus on the way Mask after mask fell from the countenance And form of all. And, long before the day "Was old, the joy which waked like heaven's glance The sleepers in the oblivious valley died; And some grew weary of the ghastly dance, "And fell, as I have fallen, by the way-side ; Those soonest from whose forms most shadows passed, And least of strength and beauty did abide. "Then, what is life?' I cried.”— SHELLEY'S NOTE TO PRINCE ATHANASE. P. 303 And so his grief remained-let it remain-untold. The author was pursuing a fuller devolopment of the ideal character of Athanase when it struck him that, in an attempt at extreme refinement and analysis, his conceptions might be betrayed into the assuming a morbid character. The reader will judge whether he is a loser or gainer by this difference. TRANSLATIONS. HYMNS OF HOMER. HYMN TO MERCURY. I. SING, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove, In the deep night, unseen by Gods or men, II. Now, when the joy of Jove had its fulfilling, A shepherd of thin dreams, a cow-stealing, A night-watching, and door-waylaying thief, III. The babe was born at the first peepof day; IV. Out of the lofty cavern wandering, "A treasure!" He found a tortoise, and cried out V. "A useful godsend are you to me now, King of the dance, companion of the feast, Lovely in all your nature! Welcome, you : Excellent plaything! Where, sweet mountain beast, Got you that speckled shell? Thus much I know, You must come home with me and be my guest; You will give joy to me, and I will do All that is in my power to honour you. VI. "Better to be at home than out of door, So come with me; and, though it has been said That you alive defend from magic power, I know you will sing sweetly when you're dead." Thus having spoken, the quaint infant bore, Lifting it from the grass on which it fed, And grasping it in his delighted hold, VII. Then, scooping with a chisel of grey steel, Which thronging cares annoy-not swifter wheel VIII. And through the tortoise's hard stony skin And with a piece of leather overlaid The open space; and fixed the cubits in, IX. When he had wrought the lovely instrument, Joyous and wild and wanton-such you may X. He sung how Jove and May of the bright sandal And his own birth, still scoffing at the scandal, XI. Seized with a sudden fancy for fresh meat, He in his sacred crib deposited The hollow lyre, and from the cavern sweet Rushed with great leaps up to the mountain's head,— Revolving in his mind some subtle feat Of thievish craft, such as a swindler might Devise in the lone season of dun night. XII. Lo! the great Sun under the ocean's bed has Driven steeps and chariots. The child meanwhile strode O'er the Pierian mountains clothed in shadows, Are pastured in the flowering unmown meadows, XIII. He drove them wandering o'er the sandy way; So that the tracks, which seemed before, were aft. His sandals then he threw to the ocean spray; And for each foot he wrought a kind of raft Of tamarisk, and tamarisk-like sprigs, XIV. And on his feet he tied these sandals light, Like a man hastening on some distant way, But an old man perceived the infant pass XV. The old man stood dressing his sunny vine. "Halloo! old fellow with the crooked shoulder! You grub those stumps? Before they will bear wine Methinks even you must grow a little older. Attend, I pray, to this advice of mine, As you would 'scape what might appall a bolderSeeing, see not; and, hearing, hear not; and, If you have understanding, understand." XVI. So saying, Hermes roused the oxen vast. O'er shadowy mountain, and resounding dell, And flower-paven plains, great Hermes passed; Till the black night divine, which favouring fell Around his steps, grew grey, and morning fast Wakened the world to work, and from her cell, Sea-strewn, the Pallantean Moon sublime Into her watch-tower just began to climb. |