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Thus Nisus all his fond affection prov'd

Dying, revenged the fate of him he lov'd;

Then on his bosom sought his wonted place,i.

And death was heavenly, in his friend's embrace! 400

Celestial pair! if aught my verse can claim, Wafted on Time's broad pinion, yours is fame! ii. Ages on ages shall your fate admire,

No future day shall see your names expire,

While stands the Capitol, immortal dome!

And vanquish'd millions hail their Empress, Rome!

TRANSLATION FROM THE "MEDEA" OF EURIPIDES [Ll. 627-660].

Ερωτες ὑπὲρ μὲν ἄγαν, κ.τ.λ.

I.

WHEN fierce conflicting passions urge

The breast, where love is wont to glow,
What mind can stem the stormy surge

Which rolls the tide of human woe?

i. Then on his breast he sought his wonted place,

And Death was lovely in his Friend's embrace.-[MS. Newstead.] ii. Yours are the fairest wreaths of endless Fame.-[MS. Newstead.]

1. [The Greek heading does not appear in Hours of Idleness or Poems O. and T.]

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TRANSLATION FROM THE MEDEA OF EURIPIDES. 169

The hope of praise, the dread of shame,
Can rouse the tortur'd breast no more;

The wild desire, the guilty flame,

Absorbs each wish it felt before.

2.

But if affection gently thrills

The soul, by purer dreams possest,
The pleasing balm of mortal ills

In love can soothe the aching breast:

If thus thou comest in disguise,

Fair Venus! from thy native heaven,

What heart, unfeeling, would despise

The sweetest boon the Gods have given?

3.

But, never from thy golden bow,

May I beneath the shaft expire!
Whose creeping venom, sure and slow,
Awakes an all-consuming fire :

Ye racking doubts! ye jealous fears!
With others wage internal war;
Repentance! source of future tears,
From me be ever distant far!

4.

May no distracting thoughts destroy
The holy calm of sacred love!

i. If thus thou comʼst in gentle guise.—[Hours of Idleness.]

May all the hours be winged with joy,

Which hover faithful hearts above!

Fair Venus! on thy myrtle shrine

May I with some fond lover sigh!
Whose heart may mingle pure with mine,
With me to live, with me to die!

5.

My native soil! belov'd before,
Now dearer, as my peaceful home,
Ne'er may I quit thy rocky shore,

A hapless banish'd wretch to roam!
This very day, this very hour,

May I resign this fleeting breath!
Nor quit my silent humble bower;

A doom, to me, far worse than death.

6.

Have I not heard the exile's sigh,
And seen the exile's silent tear,
Through distant climes condemn'd to fly,
A pensive, weary wanderer here?
Ah! hapless dame!1 no sire bewails,
No friend thy wretched fate deplores,
No kindred voice with rapture hails

Thy steps within a stranger's doors.

1. Medea, who accompanied Jason to Corinth, was deserted by him for the daughter of Creon, king of that city. The chorus, from which this is taken, here addresses Medea; though a considerable liberty is taken with the original, by expanding the idea, as also in some other parts of the translation.

7.

Perish the fiend! whose iron heart

To fair affection's truth unknown,
Bids her he fondly lov'd depart,
Unpitied, helpless, and alone;
Who ne'er unlocks with silver key,1
The milder treasures of his soul;

May such a friend be far from me,

And Ocean's storms between us roll!

LACHIN Y GAIR.2

I.

AWAY, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses!
In you let the minions of luxury rove;

Restore me the rocks, where the snow-flake reposes,
Though still they are sacred to freedom and love :
Yet, Caledonia, belov'd are thy mountains,

Round their white summits though elements war;

I. The original is καθαρὰν ἀνοίξαντα κλῇδα φρενῶν, literally "disclosing the bright key of the mind."

66

2. Lachin y Gair, or, as it is pronounced in the Erse, Loch na Garr, towers proudly pre-eminent in the Northern Highlands, near Invercauld. One of our modern tourists mentions it as the highest mountain, perhaps, in Great Britain. Be this as it may, it is certainly one of the most sublime and picturesque amongst our Caledonian Alps." Its appearance is of a dusky hue, but the summit is the seat of eternal snows. Near Lachin y Gair I spent some of the early part of my life, the recollection of which has given birth to the following stanzas. [Prefixed to the poem in Hours of Idleness and Poems O. and T.]

Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains,

I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr.

2.

Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy, wander'd :
My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid;1
On chieftains, long perish'd, my memory ponder'd,
As daily I strode through the pine-cover'd glade;
I sought not my home, till the day's dying glory
Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star;
For fancy was cheer'd, by traditional story,

Disclos'd by the natives of dark Loch na Garr.

3.

"Shades of the dead! have I not heard your voices Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale?" Surely, the soul of the hero rejoices,

And rides on the wind, o'er his own Highland vale! Round Loch na Garr, while the stormy mist gathers, Winter presides in his cold icy car:

Clouds, there, encircle the forms of my Fathers;
They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Garr.

4.

"Ill starr'd, though brave, did no visions foreboding Tell you that fate had forsaken your cause?"

I. This word is erroneously pronounced plad; the proper pronunciation (according to the Scotch) is shown by the orthography.

2. I allude here to my maternal ancestors, "the Gordons,"

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