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καὶ θεωρούνται ὡς ἐν κατόπτρῳ ἤθη, πράξεις καὶ διοικήσεις πολλῶν καὶ διαφόρων ἐθνῶν καὶ γενῶν, ὧν τὴν μνήμην διεσώσατο καὶ διασώσει ἡ Ιτορικὴ Διήγησις εἰς εἰῶνα τὸν ἅπαντα.

Μία τέτοια ἐπισήμη εἶναι εὐαπόκτητος, καὶ ἐν ταὐτῷ ὠφελίμη, ἢ κρεῖττον εἰπεῖν ἀναγκαία· διατὶ λοιπὸν ἡμεῖς μόνοι νὰ τὴν ὑσερούμεθα, μὴ ἠξεύροντες οὔτε τὰς ἀρχὰς τῶν προγόνων μας, πόθεν πότε καὶ πῶς εὑρέθησαν εἰς τὰς παι τρίδας μας, οὔτε τὰ ἤθη, τὰ κατορθώματα καὶ τὴν διοίκησίν των ; Αν ἐρωτήσω μεν τοὺς ἀλλογενεῖς, ἠξεύρουν νὰ μᾶς δώσουν ὄχι μόνον ἱςορικῶς τὴν ἀρχὴν καὶ τὴν πρόοδον τῶν προγόνων μας, ἀλλὰ καὶ τοπογραφικῶς μᾶς δείχνουν τὰς θέ σεις τῶν πατρίδων μας, καὶ οἱονεὶ χειραγωγοὶ γινόμενοι μὲ τοὺς γεωγραφικούς των πίνακας, μᾶς λέγουν, ἐδὼ εἶναι αἱ ̓Αθῆναι, ἐδὼ ἡ Σπάρτη, ἐκεῖ αἱ Θῆβαι, τόσα στάδια ἢ μίλια απέχει ἡ μία ἐπαρχία ἀπὸ τὴν ἄλλην. Τοῦτος ᾠκοδόμησε τὴν μίαν πόλιν, ἐκεῖνος τὴν ἄλλην, καὶ τλ. Προσέτι ἂν ἐρωτήσωμεν αὐτοὺς τοὺς μὴ Ελληνας χειραγωγούς μας, πόθεν ἐπαρακινήθησαν νὰ ἐξερευνήσουν ἀρχὰς τόσον παλαιὰς, ἀνυποςόλως μᾶς ἀποκρίνονται μὲ αὐτοὺς τοὺς λόγους. “Κα θὼς ὁ ἐκ Σκυθίας Ανάχαρσις, ἂν δὲν ἐπεριέρχετο τὰ πανευφρόσυνα ἐκεῖνα κλίματα τῆς Ελλάδος, ἂν δὲν ἐμφορεῖτο τὰ ἀξιώματα, τὰ ἤθη καὶ τοὺς νότ μους τῶν Ελλήνων, ἤθελε μείνη Σκύθης καὶ τὸ ὄνομα καὶ τὸ πρᾶγμα· ούτω καὶ ὁ ἡμέτερος ἰατρὸς, ἂν δὲν ἐμάνθανε τὰ τοῦ Ιπποκράτους, δὲν ἐδύνατο να προχωρήσῃ εἰς τὴν τέχνην τοῦ. Αν ὁ ἐν ἡμῖν νομοθέτης δὲν ἐξέταζε τὰ τοῦ Σόλωνος, Λυκούργου, καὶ Πιττακοῦ, δὲν ἐδύνατο νὰ ῥυθμήσῃ καὶ νὰ καλιερ γήσῃ τὰ ἤθη τῶν ὁμογενῶν του· Αν ὁ ῥήτωρ δὲν απηνθίζετο τὰς εὐφραδείας καὶ τοὺς χαριεντισμοὺς τοῦ Δημοσθένους, δὲν ἐνεργοῦσεν εἰς τὰς ψυχὰς τῶν ακροα τῶν του· Αν ὁ Νέος Ανάχαρσις, ὁ Κύριος Α'ββᾶς Βαρθολομαῖος δὲν ἀνεγίνωσκε μὲ μεγάλην ἐπιμονὴν καὶ σκέψιν τοὺς πλέον ἐγκρίτους συγγραφεῖς τῶν Ελ λήνων, ἐξερευνῶν αὐτοὺς κατὰ βάθος ἐπὶ τρίακοντα δύω ἔτη, δὲν ἤθελεν ἐξυ φάνη τούτην τὴν περὶ Ελλήνων ἱσορίαν τοῦ, ἥτις Περιήγησις τοῦ Νέου Α'ναχάρσεως παρ' αὐτοῦ προσωνομάσθη, καὶ εἰς ὅλας τὰς εὐρωπαϊκὸς διαλέκτους μετεγλωττίσθη.” Καὶ ἐν ἑνὶ λόγῳ, οἱ νεώτεροι, ἂν δὲν ἔπερναν διὰ ὁδηγοὺς τοὺς προγόνους μας, ἤθελαν ἴσως περιφέρονται ματαίως μέχρι τοῦ νῦν. Αὐτὰ δὲν εἶναι λόγια ἐνθουσιασμένου διὰ τὸ φιλογενὲς Γραικοῦ, εἶναι δὲ φιλαλήθους Γερμανοῦ, ὅτις ἐμετάφρασε τὸν Νέον Ανάχαρσιν ἀπὸ τοῦ Γαλλικοῦ εἰς τὸ Γερμανικόν.

Αν λοιπὸν καὶ ἡμεῖς θέλωμεν νὰ μεθέξωμεν τῆς γνώσεως τῶν λαμπρῶν και τορθωμάτων ὁποῦ ἔκαμαν οἱ θαυμαστοὶ ἐκεῖνοι προπάτορες ἡμῶν, ἅν ἐπιθυμῶς μὲν νὰ μάθωμεν τὴν πρόοδον καὶ αὔξησίν των εἰς τὰς τέχνας καὶ ἐπιστήμας καὶ εἰς κάθε ἄλλο εἶδος μαθήσεως, ἂν ἔχωμεν περιέργειαν νὰ γνωρίσωμεν πόθεν καταγόμεθα, καὶ ὁποίους θαυμασοὺς καὶ μεγάλους ἄνδρας, εἰ καὶ προγόνους ἡμων, φεῦ, ἡμεῖς δὲν γνωρίζομεν, εἰς καιρὸν ὁποῦ οἱ ἀλλογενεῖς θαυμάζουσιν αὐτοὺς, καὶ ὡς πατέρας παντοιασοῦν μαθήσεως σέβονται, ἂς συνδράμωμεν ἅπαν τες προθύμως εἰς τὴν ἔκδοσιν του θαυμασίου τούτου συγγράμματος τοῦ Νέου Αναχάρσεως.

Ἡμεῖς οὖν οἱ ὑπογεγραμμένοι θέλομεν ἐκτελέσει προθύμως τὴν μεταφράσιν τοῦ Βιβλίου μὲ τὴν κατὰ τὸ δυνατὸν ἡμῖν καλήν φράσιν τῆς νῦν καθ ̓ ἡμᾶς ὁμιλίας, καὶ ἐκδόντες τοῦτο εἰς τύπον, θέλομεν τὸ καλλωπίσει μὲ τοὺς γεωγρα φικοὺς πίνακας μὲ ἁπλᾶς ῥωμαϊκὰς λέξεις ἐγκεχαραγμένους εἰς ἐδικά μας γράμματα, προσιθέντες ὅ τι ἄλλο χρήσιμον καὶ ἁρμόδιον εἰς τὴν ἱσορίαν.

Ολον τὸ σύγγραμμα θέλει γένει εἰς τόμους δώδεκα κατὰ μίμησιν τῆς Ἰταλικῆς ἐκδόσεως. Ἡ τιμὴ ὅλου τοῦ συγγράμματος εἶναι φιορίνια δεκαέξη τῆς Βιέννης διὰ τὴν προσθήκην τῶν γεωγραφικῶν πινάκων. Οι φιλογενὴς οὖν συνδρομητής πρέπει νὰ πληρώσῃ εἰς κάθε τόμον φιορίνι ἕνα καὶ Καραντανία εἴ

κοσι τῆς Βιέννης, καὶ τοῦτο χωρὶς καμμίαν πρόδοσιν, ἀλλ ̓ εὐθὺς ὁποῦ θέλει τῷ παραδοθῇ ὁ τόμος τυπωμένος καὶ δεμένος.

Εῤῥωμένοι καὶ εὐδαίμονες διαβιώοιτε, Ελλήνων παῖδες.
Τῆς ὑμετέρας ἀγάπης ἐξηρτημένοι,

Ιωάννης Μαρμαροτούρης.

Δημήτριος Βενιέρης.

· Σπυρίδων Πρεβέτος.

Εν Τριετίῳ, τῇ πρώτη Οκτωβρίου, 1799.

THE LORD'S PRAYER IN ROMAIC.

Ω' ΠΑΤΕΡΑ μας ὁποῦ εἶσαι εἰς τοὺς οὐρανοὺς, ἂς ἁγιασθῇ τὸ ὄνομὰ σου. Ας ἔλθῃ ἡ βασιλεία σου. Ας γένη τὸ θέλημά σου, καθὼς εἰς τὸν οὐρανὸν, ἔτζη καὶ εἰς τὴν γήν. Τὸ ψωμί μας τὸ καθημερινὸν, δός μας τό σήμερον. Καὶ συγχώρησέ μας τὰ χρέη μας, καθῶς καὶ ἐμεῖς συγχωροῦμεν τοὺς κρεοφειλέτας μας. Καὶ μὴν μᾶς φέρε εἰς πειρασμὸν, ἀλλὰ ἐλευθέρωσέ μας ἀπὸ τὸν πονηρον. Οτι ἐδική σου εἶναι ἡ βασιλεία δὲ, ἡ δύναμις, καὶ ἡ δόξα, εἰς τοὺς αἰῶνας. Αμήν.

IN GREEK.

ΠΑΤΕΡ ἡμῶν, ὁ ἐν τοῖς οὐρανοῖς, ἁγιασθήτω τὸ ὄνομά σου. Ελθέτω ἡ βα σιλεία σου· γενηθήτω τὸ θέλημά σου, ὡς ἐν οὐρανῷ, καὶ ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς. Τὸν ἄρτον ἡμῶν τὸν ἐπιούσιον δὸς ἡμῖν σήμερον. Καὶ ἄφες ἡμῖν τὰ ὀφειλήματα ἡμῶν, ως καὶ ἡμεῖς ἀφίεμεν τοῖς ὀφειλέταις ἡμῶν. Καὶ μὴ εἰσενέγκης ἡμᾶς εἰς πειρασμὸν, ἀλλὰ ῥῦσαι ἡμᾶς ἀπὸ τοῦ πονηροῦ. Οτι σοῦ ἐστὶν ἡ βασιλεία, καὶ ἡ δύναμις, καὶ ἡ δόξα, εἰς τοὺς αἰῶνας. Αμήν.

CANTO III.

"Afin que cette application vous forçât de penser à autre chose, il n'y a en vérité de remède que celui-là et le temps."

Lettre du Roi de Prusse à d'Alembert, 7 Sept. 1776.

I.

Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child!

Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart?
When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smiled,
And then we parted,—not as now we part,

But with a hope.—

Awaking with a start,

The waters heave around me; and on high

The winds lift up their voices: I depart,

Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by,

When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.

II.

Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
That knows his rider. Welcome to their roar!
Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead!
Though the strain'd mast should quiver as a reed,
And the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale,
Still must I on; for I am as a weed,

Flung from the rock, on ocean's foam, to sail

Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.

III.

In my youth's summer I did sing of one,
The wandering outlaw of his own dark mind;
Again I seize the theme then but begun,
And bear it with me, as the rushing wind

Bears the cloud onwards: in that tale I find

The furrows of long thought, and dried up tears,
Which, ebbing, leave a sterile track behind,
O'er which all heavily the journeying years

Plod the last sands of life,-where not a flower appears.

IV.

Since my young days of passion-joy, or pain,
Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string,
And both may jar: it may be that in vain
I would essay as I have sung to sing.
Yet, though a dreary strain, to this I cling;
So that it wean me from the weary dream
Of selfish grief or gladness-so it fling
Forgetfulness around me-it shall seem
To me, though to none else, a not ungrateful theme.

V.

He, who grown aged in this world of woe,
In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life,
So that no wonder waits him; nor below
Can love, or sorrow, fame, ambition, strife,
Cut to his heart again with the keen knife
Of silent, sharp endurance :—he can tell
Why thought seeks refuge in lone caves, yet rife
With airy images, and shapes which dwell

Still unimpair'd, though old, in the soul's haunted cell.

VI.

'T is to create, and in creating live

A being more intense, that we endow

With form our fancy, gaining as we give

The life we image, even as I do now.

What am I? Nothing; but not so art thou,

Soul of my thought! with whom I traverse earth,

Invisible but gazing, as I glow

Mix'd with thy spirit, blended with thy birth,

And feeling still with thee in my crush'd feelings' dearth.

VII.

Yet must I think less wildly :-I have thought
Too long and darkly, till my brain became,
In its own eddy boiling and o'erwrought,
A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame :

And thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame,
My springs of life were poison'd. 'T is too late!
Yet am I changed; though still enough the same
In strength to bear what time can not abate,
And feed on bitter fruits without accusing fate.

1

VIII.

Something too much of this :—but now 't is past,
And the spell closes with its silent seal.

Long absent Harold re-appears at last;

He of the breast which fain no more would feel,

Wrung with the wounds which kill not,but ne'er heal.
Yet Time, who changes all, had alter'd him
In soul and aspect as in age: years steal

Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb,
And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.

IX.

His had been quaff'd too quickly, and he found The dregs were wormwood; but he fill'd again, And from a purer fount, on holier ground, And deem'd its spring perpetual; but in vain! Still round him clung invisibly a chain Which gall'd for ever, fettering though unseen, And heavy though it clank'd not; worn with pain, Which pined although it spoke not, and grew keen, Entering with every step he took, through many a scene.

X.

Secure in guarded coldness, he had mix'd
Again in fancied safety with his kind,
And deem'd his spirit now so firmly fix'd
And sheathed with an invulnerable mind,
That, if no joy, no sorrow lurk'd behind;
And he, as one might midst the many stand
Unheeded, searching through the crowd to find
Fit speculation-such as in strange land

He found in wonder-works of God and nature's hand.

XI.

But who can view the ripen'd rose, nor seek
To wear it? who can curiously behold
The smoothness and the sheen of beauty's cheek,
Nor feel the heart can never all grow old?
Who can contemplate fame through clouds unfold
The star which rises o'er her steep, nor climb?
Harold, once more within the vortex, roll'd
On with the giddy circle, chasing time,

Yet with a nobler aim than in his youth's fond prime.

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