« НазадПродовжити »
THE PROGRESS OF POESY.
A Pindaric Ode.
Φωνάντα συνετοίσιν ες
A WAKE, Æolian lyre, awake,
And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. From Helicon's harmonious springs
A thousand rills their mazy progress take :
Headlong, impetuous, see it pour ;
Oh! Sov'reign of the willing soul, Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, Enchanting shell ! the sullen Cares
And frantic Passions hear thy soft control. On Thracia's hills the Lord of War Has curb’d the fury of his car, And dropt his thirsty lance at thy command. Perching on the sceptred hand Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king With ruffled plumes and flagging wing : Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye.
Thee the voice, the dance, obey,
Now pursuing, now retreating
Now in circling troops they meet: To brisk notes in cadence beating,
Glance their many-twinkling feet. Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare :
Where'er she turns, the Graces homage pay. With arms sublime, that float upon the air,
In gliding state she wins her easy way : O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.
Man's feeble race what ills await !
And Death, sad refuge from the storms of fate !
Till down the eastern cliffs afar
In climes beyond the solar road, Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, The Muse has broke the twilight gloom
To cheer the shivering native's dull abode. And oft, beneath the od'rous shade Of Chili's boundless forests laid, She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat, In loose numbers wildly sweet, Their feather-cinctured chiefs, and dusky loves. Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursue, and gen'rous Shame, Th’ unconquerable Mind, and freedom's holy flame.
Woods, that wave o’er Delphi's steep, Isles, that crown th' Ægean deep,
Fields, that cool Ilissus laves,
Or where Mæander's amber waves
How do your tuneful echoes languishi,