Not by the elm-tree Him didst thou visit, With the pair of doves Held in his gentle arm,--With the beauteous garland of roses,--Caressing him, so blest in his flowers, Anacreon, Storm-breathing godhead!
Not in the poplar grove, Near the Sybaris' strand, Not on the mountain's Sun-illumined brow Didst thou seize him, The flower-singing, Honey-breathing, Sweetly nodding Theocritus.
When the wheels were rattling, Wheel on wheel tow'rd the goal, High arose The sound of the lash Of youths with victory glowing, In the dust rolling, As from the mountain fall Showers of stones in the vale--Then thy soul was brightly glowing, Pindar--Glowing? Poor heart!
There, on the hill,--Heavenly might!
But enough glow Thither to wend, Where is my cot!
1771.
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
MANY a day and night my bark stood ready laden;Waiting fav'ring winds, I sat with true friends round me, Pledging me to patience and to courage, In the haven.
And they spoke thus with impatience twofold:
"Gladly pray we for thy rapid passage, Gladly for thy happy voyage; fortune In the distant world is waiting for thee, In our arms thoult find thy prize, and love too, When returning."And when morning came, arose an uproar, And the sailors' joyous shouts awoke us;All was stirring, all was living, moving, Bent on sailing with the first kind zephyr.
And the sails soon in the breeze are swelling, And the sun with fiery love invites us;Fill'd the sails are, clouds on high are floating, On the shore each friend exulting raises Songs of hope, in giddy joy expecting Joy the voyage through, as on the morn of sailing, And the earliest starry nights so radiant.
But by God-sent changing winds ere long he's driven Sideways from the course he had intended, And he feigns as though he would surrender, While he gently striveth to outwit them,To his goal, e'en when thus press'd, still faithful.
But from out the damp grey distance rising, Softly now the storm proclaims its advent, Presseth down each bird upon the waters, Presseth down the throbbing hearts of mortals.
And it cometh.At its stubborn fury, Wisely ev'ry sail the seaman striketh;With the anguish-laden ball are sporting Wind and water.
And on yonder shore are gather'd standing, Friends and lovers, trembling for the bold one:
"Why, alas, remain'd he here not with us!
Ah, the tempest! Cast away by fortune!
Must the good one perish in this fashion?
Might not he perchance....Ye great immortals!"Yet he, like a man, stands by his rudder;With the bark are sporting wind and water, Wind and water sport not with his bosom:
On the fierce deep looks he, as a master,--In his gods, or shipwreck'd, or safe landed, Trusting ever.
1776.
THE EAGLE AND DOVE.
IN search of prey once raised his pinions An eaglet;A huntsman's arrow came, and reft His right wing of all motive power.
Headlong he fell into a myrtle grove, For three long days on anguish fed, In torment writhed Throughout three long, three weary nights;And then was cured, Thanks to all-healing Nature's Soft, omnipresent balm.
He crept away from out the copse, And stretch'd his wing--alas!
Lost is all power of flight--He scarce can lift himself From off the ground To catch some mean, unworthy prey, And rests, deep-sorrowing, On the low rock beside the stream.
Up to the oak he looks, Looks up to heaven, While in his noble eye there gleams a tear.
Then, rustling through the myrtle boughs, behold, There comes a wanton pair of doves, Who settle down, and, nodding, strut O'er the gold sands beside the stream, And gradually approach;Their red-tinged eyes, so full of love, Soon see the inward-sorrowing one.
The male, inquisitively social, leaps On the next bush, and looks Upon him kindly and complacently.
"Thou sorrowest," murmurs he:
"Be of good cheer, my friend!
All that is needed for calm happiness Hast thou not here?
Hast thou not pleasure in the golden bough That shields thee from the day's fierce glow?
Canst thou not raise thy breast to catch, On the soft moss beside the brook, The sun's last rays at even?
Here thou mayst wander through the flowers' fresh dew, Pluck from the overflow The forest-trees provide, Thy choicest food,--mayst quench Thy light thirst at the silvery spring.
Oh friend, true happiness Lies in contentedness, And that contentedness Finds everywhere enough.""Oh, wise one!" said the eagle, while he sank In deep and ever deep'ning thought--"Oh Wisdom! like a dove thou speakest!"
1774.
PROMETHEUS.
COVER thy spacious heavens, Zeus, With clouds of mist, And, like the boy who lops The thistles' heads, Disport with oaks and mountain-peaks, Yet thou must leave My earth still standing;My cottage too, which was not raised by thee;Leave me my hearth, Whose kindly glow By thee is envied.
I know nought poorer Under the sun, than ye gods!
Ye nourish painfully, With sacrifices And votive prayers, Your majesty:
Ye would e'en starve, If children and beggars Were not trusting fools.
While yet a child And ignorant of life, I turned my wandering gaze Up tow'rd the sun, as if with him There were an ear to hear my wailings, A heart, like mine, To feel compassion for distress.
Who help'd me Against the Titans' insolence?
Who rescued me from certain death, From slavery?
Didst thou not do all this thyself, My sacred glowing heart?
And glowedst, young and good, Deceived with grateful thanks To yonder slumbering one?
I honour thee! and why?
Hast thou e'er lighten'd the sorrows Of the heavy laden?
Hast thou e'er dried up the tears Of the anguish-stricken?
Was I not fashion'd to be a man By omnipotent Time, And by eternal Fate, Masters of me and thee?
Didst thou e'er fancy That life I should learn to hate, And fly to deserts, Because not all My blossoming dreams grew ripe?
Here sit I, forming mortals After my image;A race resembling me, To suffer, to weep, To enjoy, to be glad, And thee to scorn, As I!
1773.
GANYMEDE.
How, in the light of morning, Round me thou glowest, Spring, thou beloved one!
