To-morrow-and th' avenger's hand, E'en now, no spot in all thy land, Fly! may the desert's fiery blast And sternly, till thy steps be past, I would not that thy doom should be ALP-HORN SONG. TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF TIECK. WHAT dost thou here, brave Swiss? The lovely land of thy bright spring-time? What welcome cheers thee now? Dar'st thou lift thine eye to gaze around? Where are the peaks, with their snow-wreaths crown'd? Where is the song, on the wild winds borne, Or the ringing peal of the joyous horn, Or the peasant's fearless brow? But thy spirit is far away! Where a greeting waits thee in kindred eyes, Where the white Alps look through the sunny skies, With the low senn-cabins, and pastures free, And the sparkling blue of the glacier-sea, And the summits, clothed with day! Back, noble child of Tell! Back to the wild and the silent glen, And the frugal board of peasant-men! Dost thou seek the friend, the loved one, here?- Away! not a true Swiss heart is near, Against thine own to swell! TRANSLATIONS FROM HORACE. TO VENUS. BOOK 1st, ODE 30th. "O Venus, Regina Cnidi Paphique," &c. OH! leave thine own loved isle, Bright Queen of Cyprus and the Paphian shores ! Waft here thy glowing son; Bring Hermes; let the Nymphs thy path surround, TO HIS ATTENDANT. BOOK 1st, ODE 38th. "Persicos odi, puer, apparatus," &c. I HATE the Persian's costly pride- For me be nought but myrtle twined- TO DELIUS BOOK 2d, ODE 3d. "Equam memento rebus in arduis,' &c. FIRM be thy soul!-serene in power, Undazzled by the triumph's hour, Alike, if still to grief resign'd, Haunts where the silvery poplar boughs There be the rose with beauty fraught, For thou, resigning to thine heir Thy halls, thy bowers, thy treasured store, What then avails it if thou trace Since the dread lot for all must leap TO THE FOUNTAIN OF BANDUSIA. BOOK 3d, ODE 13th. "Oh! Fons Bandusiæ, splendidior vitro," &c. OH! worthy fragrant gifts of flowers and wine, Whose forehead swells with horns of infant might: Ev'n now of love and war he dreams in vain, Doom'd with his blood thy gelid wave to stain. Let the red dog-star burn!--his scorching beam, Fierce in resplendence shall molest not thee! Still shelter'd from his rays, thy banks, fair stream, To the wild flock around thee wandering free, And the tired oxen from the furrow'd field And thou, bright fount! ennobled and renown'd TO FAUNUS. BOOK 3d, ODE 18th. "Faune, Nympharum fugentium amator," &e FAUNUS, who lov'st the flying nymphs to chase Nor fail the liberal bowls to Venus dear; Nor clouds of incense to thine antique shrine. Joyous each flock in meadow herbage plays, Then from the wolf no more the lambs retreat, And the glad laborer triumphs that his feet In triple dance have struck the hated ground. THE CROSS OF THE SOUTH. The beautiful constellation of the Cross is seen only in the southern hemisphere. The following lines are supposed to be addressed to it by a Spanish traveller in South America.] IN the silence and grandeur of midnight I tread, 'The fir-tree waves o'er me, the fire-flies' red light But to thee, as thy lode-stars resplendently burn Thou recallest the ages when first o'er the main How oft in their course o'er the oceans unknown, Hath their spirit been cheer'd by thy light, when the deep As the vision that rose to the Lord of the world,* And to me as I traversed the world of the west, Shine on-my own land is a far distant spot, But thou to my thoughts art a pure-blazing shrine, THE SLEEPER OF MARATHON. I LAY upon the solemn plain, And by the funeral mound, Where those who died not there in vain, * Constantine |