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THE GOLDEN VERSES OF PYTHAGORAS.
Tranſlated from the Greek, by N. ROWE, Eſq
WITH A POEM on the late Glorious Succeſſes, &c. And an ODE for the NEW-YEAR, MDCCXVI. By the ſame Hand.
LONDON: Printed for J. TONSON: And Sold by W. FEALES, at Rowe's Head, the Corner of Eſſex-Street in the Strand. MDCCXXXII.
TO THE READER.
[]I Hope the Reader will forgive the Liberty I have taken in Tranſlating theſe Verſes ſomewhat at large, without which it would have been almoſt im⯑poſſible to have given any kind of Turn in Engliſh Poetry to ſo dry a Subject. The Senſe of the Author is, I hope, no where miſtaken; and if there ſeems in ſome Places to be ſome Additions in the Engliſh Verſes to the Greek Text, they are only ſuch as may be juſtify'd from Hierocles's Commentary, and deliver'd by him as the larger and explain'd Senſe of the Author's ſhort Precept. I have in ſome few [] Places ventur'd to differ from the Learned Mr. Dacier's French Inter⯑pretation, as thoſe that ſhall give themſelves the trouble of a ſtrict Compariſon will find. How far I am in the right, is left to the Reader to determine.
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THE GOLDEN VERSES OF PYTHAGORAS.
[]FIrſt to the Gods thy humble Homage pay;
The greateſt this, and firſt of Laws, obey:
Perform thy Vows, obſerve thy plighte Troth,
And let Religion bind thee to thy Oath.
The Heroes next demand thy juſt regard,
Renown'd on Earth, and the Stars preferr'd,
To Light and endleſs Life, their Virtues ſure Reward.
Due Rights perform and Honours to the Dead,
To ev'ry Wiſe, to ev'ry Pious Shade.
With lowly Duty to thy Parents bow,
And Grace and Favour to thy Kindred ſhow:
[6] For what concerns the reſt of Humane kind.
Chooſe out the Man to Virtue beſt inclin'd,
Him to thy Arms receive, him to thy Boſom bind.
Poſſeſt of ſuch a Friend, preſerve him ſtill;
Nor thwart his Counſels with thy ſtubborn Will▪
Pliant to all his Admonitions prove,
And yield to all his Offices of Love:
Him from thy Heart, ſo true, ſo juſtly dear,
Let no raſh Word nor light Offences tear.
Bear all thou canſt, ſtill with his Failings ſtrive,
And to the utmoſt ſtill, and ſtill forgive;
For ſtrong Neceſſity alone explores
The ſecret Vigour of our latent Pow'rs,
Rouſes and urges on the lazy Heart,
Force, to its ſelf unknown before, t'exert.
By uſe thy ſtronger Appetites aſſwage,
Thy Gluttony, thy Sloth, thy Luſt, thy Rage
From each diſhoneſt Act of Shame forbear;
Of others, and thy ſelf, alike beware.
Let Rev'rence of thy ſelf thy Thoughts control,
And guard the ſacred Temple of thy Soul.
Let Juſtice o'er thy Word and Deed preſide,
And Reaſon ev'n thy meaneſt Actions guide:
For know that Death is Man's appointed Doom,
Know that the Day of great Account will come,
When thy paſt Life ſhall ſtrictly be ſurvey'd,
Each Word, each Deed be in the Balance laid,
And all the Good and all the Ill moſt juſtly be repaid.
For Wealth, the periſhing, uncertain Good,
Ebbing and flowing like the ſickle Flood,
That knows no ſure, no fix'd abiding Place,
But wandring loves from Hand to Hand to paſs;
[7] Revolve the Getter's Joy and Loſer's Pain,
And think if it be worth thy while to gain.
Of all thoſe Sorrows that attend Mankind,
With Patience bear the Lot to thee aſſign'd;
Nor think it Chance, nor murmur at the Load;
For know what Man calls Fortune is from God.
In what thou may'ſt from Wiſdom ſeek Relief,
And let her healing Hand aſſwage the Grief;
Yet ſtill whate'er the Righteous Doom ordains,
What Cauſe ſoever multiplies thy Pains,
Let not thoſe Pains as Ills be underſtood;
For God delights not to afflict the Good.
The Reas'ning Art to various Ends apply'd,
Is oft a ſure, but oft an erring Guide.
Thy Judgment therefore ſound and cool preſerve,
Nor lightly from thy Reſolution ſwerve;
The dazling Pomp of Words does oft deceive,
And ſweet Perſuaſion wins the Eaſy to believe.
When Fools and Liars labour to perſuade,
Be dumb, and let the Bablers vainly plead.
This above all, this Precept chiefly learn,
This nearly does, and firſt, thy ſelf concern▪
Let not Example, let no ſoothing Tongue,
Prevail upon thee with a Siren's Song.
To do thy Soul's Immortal Eſſence wrong,
Of Good and Ill by Words or Deeds expreſt,
Chooſe for thy ſelf, and always chooſe the beſt.
Let wary Thought each Enterprize forerun,
And ponder on thy Task before begun,
Leſt Folly ſhou'd the wretched Work deface,
And mock thy fruitleſs Labours with Diſgrace.
[8] Fools huddle on and always are in haſte,
Act without Thought, and thoughtleſs Words they waſte.
But, thou, in all thou doſt, with early Cares
Strive to prevent at firſt a Fate like theirs;
That Sorrow on the End may never wait,
Nor ſharp Repentance make thee Wiſe too late.
Beware thy meddling Hand in ought to try,
That does beyond thy reach of Knowledge lie;
But ſeek to know, and bend thy ſerious Thought
To ſearch the profitable Knowledge out.
So Joys on Joys for ever ſhall increaſe,
Wiſdom ſhall crown thy Labours, and ſhall bleſs
Thy Life with Pleaſure, and thy End with Peace.
Nor let the Body want its Part, but ſhare
A juſt Proportion of thy tender Care:
For Health and Welfare prudently provide,
And let its lawful Wants be all ſupply'd.
Let ſober Draughts refreſh, and wholſom Fare
Decaying Nature's waſted Force repair;
And ſprightly Exerciſe the duller Spirits chear.
In all Things ſtill which to this Care belong,
Obſerve this Rule, to guard thy Soul from Wrong.
By virtuous Uſe thy Life and Manners frame,
Manly and ſimply pure, and free from Blame.
Provoke not Envy's deadly Rage, but fly
The glancing Curſe of her malicious Eye.
Seek not in needleſs Luxury to waſte
Thy Wealth and Subſtance, with a Spendthrift's Haſte;
Yet flying theſe, be watchful, leſt thy Mind,
Prone to Extremes, an equal Danger find,
And be to ſordid Avarice inclin'd.
[9] Diſtant alike from each, to neither lean,
But ever keep the happy GOLDEN MEAN.
Be careful ſtill to guard thy Soul from Wrong,
And let thy Thought prevent thy Hand and Tongue.
Let not the ſtealing God of Sleep ſurpriſe,
Nor creep in Slumbers on thy weary Eyes,
Ere ev'ry Action of the former Day
Strictly thou doſt and righteouſly ſurvey.
With Rev'rence at thy own Tribunal ſtand,
And anſwer juſtly to thy own Demand.
Where have I been? In what have I tranſgreſs'd?
What Good or Ill has this Day's Life expreſs'd?
Where have I fail'd in what I ought to do?
In what to God, to Man, or to my ſelf I owe?
Inquire ſevere what-e'er from firſt to laſt,
From Morning's Dawn 'till Ev'ning's Gloom, has paſt.
If Evil were thy Deeds, repenting mourn,
And let thy Soul with ſtrong Remorſe be torn.
If Good, the Good with Peace of Mind repay,
And to thy ſecret Self with Pleaſure ſay,
Rejoice, my Heart, for all went well to-day.
Theſe Thoughts and chiefly theſe thy Mind ſhould move;
Employ thy Study, and engage thy Love.
Theſe are the Rules which will to Virtue lead,
And teach thy Feet her heav'nly Paths to tread.
This by his Name I ſwear, whoſe ſacred Lore
Firſt to Mankind explain'd the Myſtick FOUR,
Source of Eternal Nature and Almighty Pow'r.
In all thou doſt firſt let thy Prayers aſcend,
And to the Gods thy Labours firſt commend,
From them implore Succeſs, and hope a proſp'rous End.
[10] So ſhall thy abler Mind be taught to ſoar,
And Wiſdom in her ſecret Ways explore;
To range through Heav'n above and Earth below,
Immortal Gods and mortal Men to know.
So ſhalt thou learn what Pow'r does all control,
What bounds the Parts, and what unites the Whole:
And rightly judge, in all this wondrous Frame,
How univerſal Nature is the ſame;
So ſhalt thou ne'er thy vain Affections place
On Hopes of what ſhall never come to paſs,
Man, wretched Man, thou ſhalt be taught to know,
Who bears within himſelf the inborn Cauſe of Woe.
Unhappy Race! that never yet could tell,
How near their Good and Happineſs they dwell.
Depriv'd of Senſe, they neither hear nor ſee;
Fetter'd in Vice▪ they ſeek not to be free,
But ſtupid, to their own ſad Fate agree:
Like pond'rous Rolling-ſtones, oppreſs'd with Ill,
The Weight that loads 'em makes 'em roll on ſtill,
Bereft of Choice and Freedom of the Will.
For native Strife in ev'ry Boſom reigns,
And ſecretly an impious War maintains:
Provoke not THIS, but let the Combat ceaſe,
And ev'ry yielding Paſſion ſue for Peace.
Wouldſt thou, great Jave, thou Father of Mankind,
Reveal the Demon for that Task aſſign'd,
The wretched Race an End of Woes would find▪
And yet be bold, O Man, Divine thou art,
And of the Gods Celeſtial Eſſence Part.
Nor ſacred Nature is from thee conceal'd,
But to thy Race her myſtick Rules reveal'd.
[11] Theſe if to know thou happily attain,
Soon ſhalt thou perfect be in all that I ordain.
Thy wounded Soul to Health thou ſhalt reſtore,
And free from ev'ry Pain ſhe felt before.
Abſtain, I warn, from Meats unclean and foul,
So keep thy Body pure, ſo free thy Soul;
So rightly judge; thy Reaſon, ſo, maintain;
Reaſon which Heav'n did for thy Guide ordain,
Let that beſt Reaſon ever hold the Rein.
Then if this mortal Body thou forſake,
And thy glad Flight to the pure Aether take,
Among the Gods exalted ſhalt thou ſhine,
Immortal, Incorruptible, Divine:
The Tyrant Death ſecurely ſhalt thou brave,
And ſcorn the dark Dominion of the Grave.
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A POEM On the Late Glorious Succeſſes, &c.
Humbly Inſcrib'd to the Right Honourable the LORD TREASURER.
[]WHILE Kings and Nations on thy Counſels wait,
And ANNA truſts to thee the Britiſh State;
While Fame, to thee, from ev'ry Foreign Coaſt,
Flies with the News of Empires won and loſt,
Relates whate'er her buſy Eyes beheld,
And tells the Fortune of each bloody Field;
While with officious Duty, Crowds attend,
To hail the Labours of thy God-like Friend,
[14] Vouchſafe the Muſes humbler Joy to hear;
For Sacred Numbers ſhall be ſtill thy Care;
Tho' mean the Verſe, tho' lowly be the Strain,
Tho' leaſt regarded be the Muſe, of all the tuneful Train▪
Yet riſe, neglected Nymph, avow thy Flame,
Aſſert th' inſpiring God, and greatly aim
To make thy Numbers equal to thy Theme.
From Heav'n derive thy Verſe; to Heav'n belong
The Counſels of the Wiſe, and Battles of the Strong.
To Heav'n, the Royal ANNA owes, alone,
The Virtues which adorn and guard Her Throne;
Thence is her Juſtice Wretches to redreſs,
Thence is her Mercy and Her Love of Peace;
Thence is her Pow'r, Her Scepter uncontrol'd
To bend the Stubborn, and repreſs the Bold;
Her peaceful Arts, fierce Factions to aſſwage,
To heal their Breaches, and to ſooth their Rage;
Thence is that happy Prudence, which preſides
In each Deſign, and ev'ry Action guides;
Thence is ſhe taught Her ſhining Court to grace,
And fix the Worthieſt in the worthieſt Place,
To truſt at home GODOLPHIN's watchful Care,
And ſend victorious CHURCHILL forth to War.
Ariſe ye Nations reſcu'd by Her Sword,
Freed from the Bondage of a Foreign Lord,
Ariſe, and join the Heroine to bleſs,
Behold She ſends to ſave you from Diſtreſs;
Rich is the Royal Bounty She beſtows,
'Tis Plenty, Peace, and Safety from your Foes▪
And thou, Iberia! rous'd at length, diſdain
To wear inſlav'd the Gallick Tyrant's Chain
[15] For ſee! the Britiſh Genius comes, to chear
The fainting Sons, and kindle'em to War.
With Her own glorious Fires their Souls She warms▪
And bids 'em burn for Liberty and Arms.
Unhappy Land! the Formoſt once in Fame,
Once lifting to the Stars thy Noble Name,
In Arts excelling, and in Arms ſevere,
The Weſtern Kingdoms Envy and their Fear.
Where is thy Pride, thy conſcious Honour, flown,
Thy ancient Valour, and thy firſt Renown?
How art thou ſunk among the Nations now!
How haſt thou taught thy haughty Neek to bow,
And dropt the Warrior's Wreath inglorious from thy [Brow!
Not thus of Old her valiant Fathers bore
The Bondage of the unbelieving Moor,
But oft, alternate▪ made the Victors yield,
And prov'd their Might in many a well-fought Field;
Bold in Defence of Liberty they ſtood,
And doubly dy'd their Croſs in Mooriſh Blood:
Then in Heroick Arms their Knights excell'd,
The Tyrant then and Giant then they quell'd.
Then ev'ry nobler Thought their Minds did move,
And thoſe, who fought for Freedom, ſigh'd for Love.
Like one, thoſe ſacred Flames united live,
At once they languiſh, and at once revive;
Alike they ſhun the Coward and the Slave,
But bleſs the Free, the Virtuous, and the Brave.
Nor frown, ye Fair, nor think my Verſe untrue;
Tho' we diſdain that Man ſhould Man ſubdue,
Yet all the Free-born Race are Slaves alike to you.
Yet once, again that Glory to Reſtore,
The Britons ſeek the Celtiberian Shore.
[16] With echoing Peals, at ANNA's high Command,
Their Naval Thunder wakes the drowſy Land;
High at their Head, Iberia's promis'd Lord,
Young Charles of Auſtria, waves his ſhining Sword;
His youthful Veins with Hopes of Empire glow,
Swell his bold Heart, and urge him on the Foe:
With Joy he reads, in ev'ry Warrior's Face,
Some happy Omen of a ſure Succeſs;
Then leaps exulting on the Hoſtile Strand,
And thinks the deſtin'd Sceptre in his Hand.
Nor Fate denies, what firſt his Wiſhes name,
Proud Barcelona owns his juſter Claim,
With the firſt Laurel binds his youthful Brows,
And, Pledge of future Crowns, the mural Wreath beſtows▪
But ſoon, the Equal of his youthful Years,
Philip of Bourbon's haughty Line, appears;
Like Hopes attend his Birth, like Glories grace,
(If Glory can be in a Tyrant's Race)
In Numbers proud, he threats no more from far,
But nearer draws the black impending War;
He views his Hoſt, then ſcorns the Rebel Town,
And dooms to certain Death the Rival of his Crown.
Now Fame and Empire, all the Nobler Spoils
That urge the Hero, and reward his Toils,
Plac'd in their View, alike their Hopes engage,
And fire their Breaſts with more than Mortal Rage.
Not lawleſs Love, not Vengeance, nor Deſpair,
So daring, fierce, untam'd, and furious are,
As when Ambition prompts the Great to War;
As youthful Kings, when ſtriving for Renown
They prove their Might in Arms, and combat for a Crown.
[17]
Hard was the cruel Strife, and doubtful long
Betwixt the Chiefs ſuſpended Conqueſt hung;
Till forc'd at length, diſdaining much, to yield,
Charles to his Rival quits the fatal Field.
Numbers and Fortune o'er his Right prevail,
And ev'n the Britiſh Valour ſeems to fail;
And yet they fail'd not all. In that Extreme,
Conſcious of Virtue, Liberty, and Fame,
They vow the youthful Monarch's Fate to ſhare,
Above Diſtreſs, unconquer'd by Deſpair,
Still to defend the Town, and animate the War.
But lo! when every better Hope was paſt,
When every Day of Danger ſeem'd their laſt,
Far on the diſtant Ocean, they ſurvey,
Where a proud Navy plows its wat'ry Way.
Nor long they doubted, but With Joy deſcry,
Upon the Chief's tall Top-maſts waving high,
The Britiſh Croſs and Belgick Lion fly.
Loud with tumultuous Clamour, loud they rear
Their Cries of Ecſtaſy, and rend the Air,
In Peals on Peals the Shouts Triumphal riſe,
Spread ſwift, and rattle thro' the ſpacious Skies;
While from below, old Ocean grones profound,
The Walls, the Rocks, the Shores repel the Sound.
Ring with the deaf'ning Shock, and thunder all around.
Such was the Joy the Trojan Youth expreſs'd,
Who by the fierce Rutilian's Siege diſtreſs'd,
Were by the Tyrrhene Aid at length releas'd;
When young Aſcanius, then in Arms firſt try'd,
Numbers and ev'ry other Want ſupply'd,
And haughty Turnus from his Walls defy'd;
[18] Sav'd in the Town an Empire yet to come,
And fix'd the Fate of his Imperial Rome.
But oh! what Verſe, what Numbers ſhall reveal
Thoſe Pangs of Rage and Grief the Vanquiſh'd feel!
Who ſhall Retreating Philip's Shame impart,
And tell the Anguiſh of his lab'ring Heart!
What Paint, what ſpeaking Pencil ſhall expreſs
The blended Paſſions ſtriving in his Face!
Hate, Indignation, Courage, Pride, Remorſe,
With Thoughts of Glory paſt, the Loſer's greateſt Curſe
Fatal Ambition! ſay what wondrous Charms
Delude Mankind to toil for thee in Arms:
When all thy Spoils, thy Wreaths in Battle won,
The Pride of Pow'r, and Glory of a Crown,
When all War gives, when all the Great can gain,
Ev'n thy whole Pleaſure, pays not half thy Pain.
All hail! ye ſofter happier Arts of Peace,
Secur'd from Harms, and bleſt with learned Eaſe;
In Battles, Blood, and Perils hard, unskill'd,
Which haunt the Warrior in the fatal Field;
But chief, thee Goddeſs Muſe! my Verſe wou'd raiſe,
And to thy own ſoft Numbers tune thy Praiſe;
Happy the Youth inſpir'd, beneath thy Shade,
Thy verdant, ever-living Laurels laid!
There ſafe, no Pleaſures, there no Pains they know,
But thoſe which from thy Sacred Raptures flow,
Nor wiſh for Crowns, but what thy Groves beſtow.
Me, Nymph Divine! nor ſcorn my humble Pray'r,
Receive unworthy, to thy kinder Care,
Doom'd to a gentler, tho' more lowly, Fate,
Nor wiſhing once, nor knowing to be Great;
[19] Me, to thy peaceful Haunts, inglorious bring,
Where ſecret thy Celeſtial Siſters Sing,
Faſt by their Sacred Hill, and ſweet Caſtalian Spring.
But nobler Thoughts the Victor Prince employ,
And raiſe his Heart with high Triumphant Joy;
From hence a better Courſe of Time rolls on,
And whiter Days ſucceſſive ſeem to run.
From hence his kinder Fortune ſeems to date
The Riſing Glories of his future State,
From hence!—But oh! too ſoon the Hero mourns
His Hopes deceiv'd, and War's inconſtant Turns,
In vain, his echoing Trumpets loud Alarms
Provoke the cold Iberian Lords to Arms;
Careleſs of Fame, as of their Monarch's Fate,
In ſullen Sloth ſupinely Proud they ſate;
Or to be Slaves or Free alike prepar'd,
And truſting Heav'n was bound to be their Guard,
Untouch'd with Shame, the noble Strife beheld,
Nor once eſſay'd to ſtruggle to the Field;
But ſought, in the cool Shade, and rural Seat,
An unmoleſted Eaſe and calm Retreat:
Saw each contending Prince's Arms advance,
Then with a lazy dull Indifference
Turn'd to their Reſt, and left the World to Chance.
So when commanded by the Wife of Jove,
Thaumantian Iris left the Realms above,
And ſwift deſcending on her painted Bow,
Sought the dull God of Sleep in Shades below;
Nodding and ſlow, his drowſy Head he rear'd▪
And heavily the ſacred Meſſage heard;
Then with a Yawn at once forgot the Pain,
And ſunk to his firſt Sloth and Indolence again.
[20]
But oh, my Muſe! th' ungrateful Toil forſake,
Some Task more pleaſing to thy Numbers take,
Nor chooſe, in melancholy Strains, to tell
Each harder Chance the juſter Cauſe befel.
Oh rather turn, auſpicious turn thy Flight,
Where MARLBOROUGH'S Heroick Arms invite,
Where higheſt Deeds the Poets Breaſt inſpire
With Rage divine, and fan the ſacred Fire.
See! where at once, Ramillia's noble Field
Ten thouſand Themes for living Verſe ſhall yield.
See! where at once, the dreadful Objects riſe,
At once they ſpread before my wond'ring Eyes,
And ſhock my lab'ring Soul with vaſt Surpriſe;
At once the wide-extended Battles move,
At once they join, at once their Fate they prove.
The Roar aſcends promiſcuous; Grones and Cries,
The Drums, the Cannons' Burſt, the Shout, ſupplies
One Univerſal Anarchy of Noiſe.
One Din confus'd, Sound mixt and loſt in Sound,
Echo's to all the frighted Cities round.
Thick Duſt and Smoke in wavy Clouds ariſe,
Stain the bright Day and taint the purer Skies;
While flaſhing Flames like Light'ning dart between,
And fill the Horror of the fatal Scene.
Around the Field, all dy'd in purple Fome,
Hate, Fury, and inſatiate Slaughter roam;
Diſcord with Pleaſure o'er the Ruin treads,
And laughing wraps her in her tatter'd Weeds;
While fierce Bellona thunders in her Car,
Shakes terrible her ſteely Whip from far,
And with new Rage revives the fainting War.
[21] So when two Currents rapid in their Courſe
Ruſh to a Point, and meet with equal Force,
The angry Billows rear their Heads on high,
Daſhing aloft, the foaming Surges fly,
And riſing cloud the Air with miſty Spry;
The raging Flood is heard from far to rore,
By liſt'ning Shepherds on the diſtant Shore,
While much they fear, what Ills it ſhould portend,
And wonder why the watry Gods contend.
High in the midſt, Britannia's warlike Chief,
Too greatly bold, and prodigal of Life,
Is ſeen to preſs where Death and Dangers call,
Where the War bleeds, and where the thickeſt fall,
He flies, and drives confus'd the fainting Gaul.
Like Heat diffus'd his great Example warms,
And animates the Social Warrior's Arms,
Inflames each colder Heart, confirms the Bold,
Makes the Young Heroes, and renews the Old.
In Forms Divine around him watchful wait
The Guardian Genii of the Britiſh State,
Juſtice and Truth his Steps unerring guide,
And faithful Loyalty defends his Side,
Prudence and Fortitude their MARLERO guard,
And pleaſing Liberty his Labours chear'd;
But chief, the Angel of his Queen was there,
The Union Croſs his Silver Shield did bear,
And in his decent Hand he ſhook a warlike Spear.
While Victory Celeſtial ſoars above,
Plum'd like the Eagle of Imperial Jove,
Hang's o'er the Chief, whom ſhe delights to bleſs,
And ever arms his Sword with ſure Succeſs,
[22] Dooms him the proud Oppreſſor to deſtroy,
Then waves her Palm, and claps her Wings for Joy.
Such was young Ammon on Arbela's Plain,
Or ſuch the
Le Brun.
Painter did the Hero feign,Where, ruſhing on, and fierce, he ſeems to ride,
With graceful Ardor, and majeſtick Pride,
With all the Gods of Greece and Fortune on his Side.
Nor long Bavaria's haughty Prince, in vain
Labours the Fight unequal to maintain:
He ſees 'tis doom'd his fatal Friend the Gaul
Shall ſhare the Shame, and in one Ruin fall;
Flies from the Foe too oft in Battle try'd,
And Heav'n contending on the Victor's Side;
Then mourns his raſh Ambition's Crime too late▪
And yields reluctant to the Force of Fate.
So when Aeneas, thro' Night's gloomy Shade,
The dreadful Forms of Hoſtile Gods ſurvey'd,
Hopeleſs he leſe the burning Town, and fled:
Saw 'twas in vain to prop declining Troy,
Or ſave what Heav'n had deſtin'd to deſtroy,
What vaſt Reward, O Europe, ſhalt thou pay,
To him who ſav'd thee on this glorious Day!
Bleſs him, ye grateful Nations, where he goes,
And heap the Victor's Laurel on his Brows.
In ev'ry Land, in ev'ry City freed,
Let the proud Column rear its Marble Head,
To MARLBOROUGH and Liberty decreed;
Rich with his Wars triumphal Arches raiſe,
To teach your wond'ring Sons the Hero's Praiſe;
To him your skilful Bards their Verſe ſhall bring,
For him the tuneful Voice be taught to ſing,
The breathing Pipe ſhall ſwell, ſhall found the trembling String.
[23]
Oh happy thou! where Peace for ever ſmiles,
Britannia! nobleſt of the Ocean's Iſles,
Fair Queen! who doſt amidſt thy Waters reign.
And ſtretch thy Empire o'er the fartheſt Main;
What Tranſports in thy Parent Boſom roll'd,
When Fame at firſt the pleaſing Story told!
How didſt thou lift thy Tow'ry Front on high!
Not meanly Conſcious of a Mother's Joy,
Proud of thy Son as Crete was of her Jove,
How wert thou pleas'd Heav'n did thy Choice approve,
And fixt Succeſs where thou hadſt fixt thy Love!
How with Regret his Abſence didſt thou mourn!
How with Impatience wait his wiſht Return!
How were the Winds accus'd for his Delay?
How didſt thou chide the Gods who rule the Sea,
And charge the Nereid Nymphs to waft him on his Way!
At length he comes, he ceaſes from his Toil,
Like Kings of Old returning from the Spoil;
To Britain and his Queen for ever dear,
He comes, their Joy and grateful Thanks to ſhare;
Lowly he kneels before the Royal Seat,
And lays his proudeſt Wreaths at ANNA's Feet.
While form'd alike for Labours or for Eaſe,
In Camps to Thunder, or in Courts to pleaſe,
Britain's bright Nymphs make MARLBOROUGH their Care,
In all his Dangers, all his Triumphs, ſhare.
Conqu'ring he lends the well-pleas'd Fair new Grace,
And adds freſh Luſtre to each beauteous Face;
Britain preſerv'd by his victorious Arms,
With wond'rous Pleaſure each fair Boſom warms,
Lightens in all their Eyes, and doubles all their Cherms.
[24] Ev'n his own Sunderland, in Beauty's Store
So Rich, ſhe ſeem'd incapable of more,
Now ſhines with Graces never known before;
Fierce with tranſporting Joy ſhe ſeems to burn,
And each ſoft Feature takes a ſprightly Turn;
New Flames are ſeen to ſparkle in her Eyes,
And on her blooming Cheeks freſh Roſes riſe;
The pleaſing Paſſion heightens each bright Hue,
And ſeems to touch the finiſh'd Piece anew,
Improves what Nature's bounteous Hand had giv'n,
And mends the faireſt Workmanſhip of Heav'n.
Nor Joy like this in Courts is only found,
But ſpreads to all the grateful People round;
Laborious Hinds inur'd to Rural Toil,
To tend the Flocks and turn the mellow Soil,
In homely Guiſe their honeſt Hearts expreſs,
And bleſs the Warrior who protects the Peace,
Who keeps the Foe aloof, and drives afar
The dreadful Ravage of the Waſting War.
No rude Deſtroyer cuts the rip'ning Crop,
Prevents the Harveſt, and deludes their Hope;
No helpleſs Wretches fly with wild Amaze,
Look weeping back and ſee their Dwellings blaze;
The Victor's Chain no mournful Captives know,
Nor hear the Threats of the inſulting Foe.
But Freedom laughs, the fuitful Fields abound,
The chearful Voice of Mirth is heard to ſound,
And Plenty doles her various Bounties round,
The humble Village, and the wealthy Town,
Conſenting join their Happineſs to own,
What Heav'n and ANNA's gentleſt Reign afford,
All is ſecur'd by MARLBRÔ's conqu'ring Sword,
[25]
O Sacred, ever Honour'd Name! O thou!
That wert our Greateſt William once below!
What Place ſoe'er thy Virtues now poſſeſs
Near the bright Source of everlaſting Bliſs,
Where-e'er exalted to Etherial Height,
Radiant with Stars, thou tread'ſt the Fields of Light,
Thy Seats Divine, thy Heav'n a-while forſake,
And deign the Britons' Triumph to partake▪
Nor art thou chang'd, but ſtill thou ſhalt delight
To hear the Fortune of the glorious Fight,
How fail'd Oppreſſion, and prevail'd the Right.
What once below, ſuch ſtill thy Pleaſures are,
Europe and Liberty are ſtill thy Care,
Thy Great, thy Gen'rous, Pure, Immortal Mind
Is ever to the Publick Good inclin'd,
Is ſtill the Tyrant's Foe, and Patron of Mankind.
Behold, where MARLBOROUGH, thy laſt beſt Gift,
At Parting, to thy Native Belgia left,
Succeeds to all thy kind Paternal Cares,
Thy watchful Counſels, and laborious Wars;
Like thee, extends his great aſſiſting Hand,
And in thy Stead protects the Orphan Land,
Like thee, aſpires by Virtue to Renown,
Fights to ſecure an Empire not his own,
Reaps only Toil himſelf, and gives away a Crown.
At length thy Pray'er, O Pious Prince! is heard,
Heav'n has, at length, in its own Cauſe appear'd,
At length Ramillia's Field atones for all
The faithleſs Breaches of the perjur'd Gaul;
At length a better Age to Man decreed,
With Truth, with Peace, and Juſtice ſhall ſucceed;
Fall'n are the Proud, and the griev'd World is freed.
[26]
One Triumph yet, my Muſe, remains behind,
Another Vengeance yet the Gaul ſhall find;
On Lombard Plains, beyond his Alpine Hills,
Louis the Force of Hoſtile Britain feels;
Swift to her Friends diſtreſs'd her Succours fly,
And diſtant Wars her Wealthy Sons ſupply:
From ſlow unactive Courts, they grieve to hear
Eugene, a Name to ev'ry Briton dear,
By tedious languiſhing Delays is held
Repining, and impatient, from the Field:
While factious▪ Stateſmen riot in Exceſs,
And lazy Prieſts whole Provinces poſſeſs,
Of unregarded Wants the Brave complain,
And the ſtarv'd Soldier ſues for Bread in vain;
At once with generous Indignation warm,
Britain the Treaſure ſends, and bids the Heroe Arm,
Staight eager to the Field, he ſpeeds away,
There vows the Victor Gaul ſhall dear repay
The Spoils of Calcinato's fatal Day:
Chear'd by the Preſence of the Chief they love,
Once more their Fate the Warriors long to prove;
Reviv'd each Soldier lifts his drooping Head,
Forgets his Wounds, and calls him on to Lead;
Again their Creſts the German Eagles rear,
Stretch their broad Wings, and Fan the Latian Air;
Greedy for Battle and the Prey they call,
And point great Eugene's Thunder on the Gaul.
The Chief commands, and ſoon in dread Array
Onwards the moving Legions urge their Way;
With hardy Marches and ſucceſsful Haſte,
O'er ev'ry Barrier Fortunate they paſs'd,
Which Nature or the skilful Foe had plac'd.
[27] The Foe in vain with Gallick Arts attends,
To mark which way the wary Leader bends;
Vainly in War's myſterious Rules is Wiſe,
Lurks where tall Woods and thickeſt Coverts riſe,
And meanly hopes a Conqueſt from Surprize.
Now with ſwift Horſe the Plain around 'em beats,
And oft Advances, and as oft Retreats;
Now fix'd to wait the coming Force, he ſeems,
Secur'd by ſteepy Banks and rapid Streams;
While River-Gods in vain Exhauſt their Store,
From plenteous Urns the guſhing Torrents pour,
Riſe o'er their utmoſt Margins to the Plain,
And ſtrive to ſtay the Warrior's Haſte in vain;
Alike they paſs the Plain and cloſer Wood,
Explore the Ford and tempt the ſwelling Flood,
Unſhaken ſtill purſue their ſtedfaſt Courſe,
And where they want their Way, they find it or they force.
But anxious Thoughts Savoy's Great Prince infeſt,
And roll ill-boding in his Careful Breaſt;
Oft he revolves the Ruins of the Great,
And ſadly thinks on loſt Bavaria's Fate,
The hapleſs Mark of Fortune's cruel Sport,
An Exile, meanly forc'd to beg Support
From the ſlow Bounties of a Foreign Court.
Forc'd from his lov'd Turin, his laſt Retreat,
His Glory once and Empire's ancient Seat,
He ſees from far where wide Deſtructions ſpread,
And fiery Show'rs the goodly Town Invade,
Then turns to mourn in vain his ruin'd State,
And curſe the unrelenting Tyrant's Hate.
But great Eugene prevents his ev'ry Fear,
He had reſolv'd it, and he would be there▪
[28] Not Danger, Toil, the tedious weary Way,
Nor all the Gallick Pow'rs his promis'd Aid delay.
Like Truth itſelf unknowing how to fail,
He ſcorn'd to doubt, and knew he muſt prevail.
Thus ever certain does the Sun appear,
Bound by the Law of Jove's Eternal Year;
Thus conſtant to his Courſe ſets out at Morn,
Round the wide World in twice Twelve Hours is born,
And to a Moment keeps his fix'd Return.
Straight to the Town the Heroes turn their Care,
Their Friendly Succour for the Brave prepare,
And on the Foe united bend the War.
O'er the ſteep Trench and Ramparts guarded Height,
At once they ruſh and drive the rapid Fight;
With idle Arms the Gallick Legions ſeem
To ſtem the Rage of the reſiſtleſs Stream,
At once it bears 'em down, at once they yield,
Headlong are puſh'd and ſwept along the Field;
Reſiſtance ceaſes, and 'tis War no more,
At once the Vanquiſh'd own the Victors Pow'r;
Throughout the Field, where-e'er they turn their Sight,
'Tis all or Conqueſt or Inglorious Flight;
Swift to their reſcu'd Friends their Joys they bear,
With Life and Liberty at once they Chear,
And ſave 'em in the Moment of Deſpair.
So timely to the Aid of ſinking Rome,
With active Haſte did Great Camillus come:
So to the Capitol he forc'd his Way,
So from the proud Barbarians ſnatch'd the Prey,
And ſav'd his Country in one Signal Day.
From impious Arms at length, O Louis, ceaſe!
And leave at length the lab'ring World in Peace,
[29] Leſt Heav'n diſcloſe ſome yet more Fatal Scene,
Fatal beyond Ramillia or Turin;
Leſt from thy Hand thou ſee thy Sceptre torn,
And humbled in the Duſt thy Loſſes mourn;
Leſt urg'd at length thy own repining Slave,
Tho' fond of Burdens, and in Bondage brave,
Purſue thy Hoary Head with Curſes to the Grave.
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ODE FOR THE NEW YEAR MDCCXVI.
[]I.
HAIL to thee, Glorious riſing Year,
With what uncommon Grace thy Days appear!
Comely art thou in thy Prime,
Lovely Child of hoary Time;
Where thy golden Footſteps tread,
Pleaſures all around thee ſpread;
Bliſs and Beauty grace thy Train;
Muſe, ſtrike the Lyre to ſome immortal Strain.
But oh! what Skill, what Maſter Hand,
Shall govern or conſtrain the wanton Band!
Looſe like my Verſe they Dance and all without Command,
[32] Images of faireſt things,
Croud about the ſpeaking Strings;
Peace and ſweet Proſperity,
Faith and chearful Loyalty,
With ſmiling Love and deathleſs Poeſy.
II.
Ye skowling Shades who break away,
Well do ye fly and ſhun the Purple Day.
Ev'ry Fiend and Fiend-like Form,
Black and ſullen as a Storm,
Jealous Fear, and falſe Surmiſe,
Danger with her dreadful Eyes,
Faction, Fury, all are fled,
And bold Rebellion hides her daring Head.
Behold, thou gracious Year, behold,
To whom thy Treaſures all thou ſhalt unfold,
For whom thy whiter Days were kept from times of Old!
See thy GEORGE, for this is he!
On his Right Hand, waiting free,
Britain and fair Liberty:
Every Good is in his Face,
Every open honeſt Grace.
Thou great Plantagenet! immortal be thy Race!
III.
See! the Sacred Scyon ſprings,
See the glad Promiſe of a Line of Kings!
Royal Youth! what Bard Divine,
Equal to a Praiſe like thine,
Shall in ſome exalted Meaſure
Sing thee, Britain's deareſt Treaſure?
[33] Who her Joy in thee ſhall tell,
Who the ſprightly Note ſhall ſwell
His Voice attemp'ring to the tuneful Shell?
Thee Audenard's recorded Field,
Bold in thy brave Paternal Band, beheld,
And ſaw with hopeleſs Heart thy fainting Rival yield;
Troubled he, with ſore Diſmay,
To thy ſtronger Fate gave way,
Safe beneath thy noble Scorn,
Wingy-footed was he Born,
Swift as the fleeting Shades upon the golden Corn.
IV.
What Valour, what diſtinguiſh'd Worth,
From thee ſhall lead the coming Ages forth?
Creſted Helms and ſhining Shields,
Warriors fam'd in foreign Fields;
Hoary Heads with Olive bound,
Kings and Lawgivers renown'd;
Crowding ſtill they riſe anew,
Beyond the Reach of deep Prophetick View.
Young AUGUSTUS! Never ceaſe!
Pledge of our preſent and our future Peace,
Still pour the Bleſſings forth, and give thy great Increaſe.
All the Stock that Fate ordains
To ſupply ſucceeding Reigns,
Whether Glory ſhall Inſpire
Gentler Arts of Martial Fire,
Still the fair Deſcent ſhall be
Dear to Albion all, like Thee,
Patrons of righteous Rules, and Foes to Tyranny.
[34]V.
Ye golden Lights who ſhine on high,
Ye potent Planets who aſcend the Sky,
On the op'ning Year diſpenſe
All your kindeſt Influence;
Heav'nly Pow'rs be all prepar'd
For our CAROLINA's Guard;
Short and eaſy be the Pains,
Which for a Nation's Weal the Heroine ſuſtains.
Britannia's Angel, be thou near;
The growing Race is thy peculiar Care,
Oh ſpread thy Sacred Wing above the Royal Fair.
GEORGE by Thee was wafted o'er,
To the long expecting Shore:
None preſuming to withſtand
Thy Celeſtial armed Hand,
While his Sacred Head to ſhade,
The blended Croſs on high Thy ſilver Shield diſplay'd
VI.
But oh! what other Form Divine
Propitious near the Hero ſeems to ſhine!
Peace of Mind, and Joy ſerene,
In her ſacred Eyes are ſeen,
Honour binds her Miter'd Brow,
Faith and Truth beſide her go,
With Zeal and pure Devotion bending low.
A thouſand Storms around her threat,
A thouſand Billows roar beneath her Feet,
While fix'd upon a Rock, ſhe keeps her Stable Seat.
[35] Still in ſign of ſure Defence,
Truſt and mutual Confidence,
On the Monarch, ſtanding by,
Still ſhe bends her gracious Eye,
Nor fears her Foes approach, while Heav'n and He are nigh.
VII.
Hence then with ev'ry anxious Care!
Begone pale Envy, and thou cold Deſpair!
Seek ye out a moody Cell,
Where Deceit and Treaſon dwell;
There repining, raging, ſtill
Th'idle Air with Curſes fill;
There blaſt the pathleſs Wild, and the bleak Northern Hill;
There your Exile vainly moan;
There where with Murmurs horrid as your own,
Beneath the ſweeping Winds, the bending Foreſts groan;
But thou Hope, with ſmiling Chear,
Do thou bring the ready Year;
See the Hours! a choſen Band!
See with jocund Looks they ſtand,
All in their trim Array, and waiting for Command.
VIII.
The welcome Train begins to move,
Hope leads Increaſe and chaſte Connubial Love:
Flora ſweet her Bounty ſpreads,
Smelling Gardens, painted Meads;
Ceres crowns the yellow Plain;
Pan rewards the Shepherd's Pain;
[36] All is Plenty, all is Wealth,
And on the balmy▪ Air fits Roſy-colour'd Health.
I hear the Mirth, I hear the Land rejoice,
Like many Waters ſwells the pealing Noiſe,
While to their Monarch, thus, they raiſe the publick Voice.
Father of thy Country, hail!
Always, every where prevail;
Pious, Valiant, Juſt, and Wiſe,
Better Suns for thee ariſe,
Purer Breezes fan the Skies,
Earth in Fruits and Flowers is dreſt,
Joy abounds in ev'ry Breaſt,
For thee thy People all, for thee the Year is bleſt.
FINIS.
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- Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3984 The golden verses of Pythagoras Translated from the Greek by N Rowe Esq With A poem on the late glorious successes c and an Ode for the New Year MDCCXVI By the same hand. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5FB3-0