wreathed The blazing altars round, appear en400 Upon their brows with poplar branches: this A choir of striplings, that-of aged [sires], Who in their hymn the lauds of Hercules, And his achievements, celebrate : how first His step-dame's monster-forms and pair of snakes, Crushing them in his hand, he strangled; how In war choice cities he, the same, o'erthrew, Both Troja and Echalia; how sore toils, A thousand, under king Eurystheus, he Endured through doom of Juno the unjust. "Thou, O unconquerable [hero, slay'st] The children of the cloud, of double limb, Hylæus e'en, and Pholus, with thy hand: Thou the monstrosities of Crete dost slay, And lion huge beneath Nemea's rock. 415 At thee have quaked the Stygian pools; at thee 423 Hell's porter, cow'ring o'er half-eaten bones And in his company Æneas, and his son 411. This transition from the third to the second person is copied by Milton; as is remarked in Trollope's Anthon's Virgil: "Both turn'd, and under open sky adored The God that made both sky, air, earth, and And one by one in joy both searches out, And hears, the legends of the men of yore. Then king Evander, founder of the tower Of Rome: "These groves the native Fauns and Nymphs 443 Were used t' inhabit, and a race of men Born from the boles [of trees] and sturdy oak: Who had nor rule, nor elegance [of life]; Nor bulls to yoke, or gather wealth, they knew, Or spare their gains: but branches and the chase, Rugged in sustenance, purveyed support. First Saturn came from empyrean heaven, Flying Jove's arms, and from his wrested realm 45I An exile. He the race untaught, and spread Through lofty mountains, settled, and their laws Vouchsafed, and 'Latium' chose them to be called, Since latent in these coasts he safe had lain. The golden age, whereof they tell, was 'neath that king: He so in calm of peace the nations ruled; Till step by step a worse, and tarnished age, And rage for war, and lust of gain ensued. Then came the Auson host, and Sic'ly's clans; 460 And Saturn's land too often laid aside Her name. Then kings, and Tybris, rough with frame Immense; from whom have we Italians next My mother nymph Carmentis' warnings dread, 470 And her inspirer-god Apollo." Scarce These [words] were spoken: then advancing on 66 He shows him both the altar, and the gate, Which Romans by the name Carmental' "" call, P. L., b. iv. 422. Spenser has a grand description of a Dragon, and the Red Cross Knight's victory over him; F. Q., i. 11, 8-14, &c. The Nymph Carmentis' compliment of old, Of his guest Argus he explains. Thence leads To the Tarpeian hold and Capitol, Now golden, bristling erst with savage brakes. Already then dread rev'rence for the spot The quaking peasants awed; already then They shuddered at the forest and the rock. "This grove, this hill," saith he, “with leafy crest, 492 What god, it is unsure,—a god doth haunt: Th' Arcadians hold that Jove himself they've seen, When oft his darkling Ægis he would shake In his right hand, and thunder-clouds Received. O guest, dare riches to despise, And mould thee also worthy of the god : And come not churlish to our poor estate." He said, and 'neath his narrow mansion's roof 511 The great Æneas led, and set him down, Cushioned upon a carpeting of leaves, And on the skin of a Libystine bear. Night posts, and folds the earth with ebon wings. But Venus, not in mind without a cause A mother scared, and by Laurentines' threats, And ruffian uproar roused, Vulcan accosts, And from her husband's golden bed she these begins, And o'er her accents breathes a heav'nly love : 520 "While in their warfare the Argolic kings Were laying waste the fated Pergamus, And, doomed to fall by hostile flames, its towers, Not any succor for its wretched [sons], Not weapons of thy skill and power I asked ; Nor thee, O dearest consort, or thy toils, Have I been willing idly to employ; Though both to Priam's sons full much I owed, And oft Æneas' sore distress had wept. He now at Jove's behests hath settled down On the Rutulians' coasts: then I the same A suitress come, and of thy deity, revered By me, arms crave, a mother for a son. Thee Nereus' daughter, thee Tithonus' spouse 534 Could bend by tears. Behold, what hordes combine, What towns with bolted gates the falchion whet 'Gainst me, and [for] the overthrow of mine !" She said, and in her snowy arms, this side And that, the goddess, as he hesitates, Infolds him warmly with a soft embrace. He suddenly received the wonted flame, And the known heat his marrow pierced, and coursed 542 Through melting bones. No less than when at times With flashing thunder burst, the chink of fire, In brightness gleaming, races through the clouds. His spouse perceived it, blithesome in her wiles, And of her beauty conscious. Then the sire, Enchained in everlasting passion, speaks: "Why seekest thou for reasons from the deep? Whither, O goddess, hath thy trust in me Departed? Had there been the like concern, 551 Then also lawful had it been for us To arm the Trojans ; nor th' almighty sire, Nor destinies forbade that Troy should stand, And Priam through ten other years survive. And now, if thou to battle dost prepare, And this is thy resolve, engage can I Whate'er there be of travail in my craft, 544. Spenser employs the idea for a similar purpose: "As the bonilasse passed bye, Hey, ho, the bonilasse ! She rovde at mee with glauncing eye, Or as the thonder cleaves the cloudes, Wherein the lightsome levin shroudes; Shepheards Calender, August. In iron what is able to be wrought, cease To cast a doubt upon thy pow'rs." These words He having said, the wished embraces gave, And, thrown upon the bosom of his spouse, He courted balmy slumber through his limbs. Then soon as maiden rest, in mid career Of night, now chased away, had banished sleep, When first the dame, on whom to nurture life By distaff and Minerva scant 'tis laid, 580 By Cyclops' forges, its Etnean dens Thunder, and lusty dints, on stithies heard, Return a groan, and hiss within the vaults The Chalybs' bars, and in the furnaces Fire pants; the home of Vulcan, and the land "Vulcania" by its title. Hither then The lord of fire came down from heav'n on high. Iron were working in their monster den The Cyclops,-Brontes e'en, and Steropes, And, stript in limbs, Pyracmon. In their hands, 590 Unfashioned, with a part now burnished off, A levin-bolt there lay; full many which 569. Minerva, skilful goddess, train'd the maid 592. "Above our atmosphere's intestine wars From the whole welkin doth the father hurl Adown upon the lands: part incomplete Remained. Three rayons of the writhen shower, Three, had they added, of the wat❜ry cloud, Of vermeil fire and wingèd Auster three. Now flashes horror-fraught, and din and fear, They in their work were blending, anger too, With dogging flames. Elsewhere for Mars 611 Of Etna, and attention hither turn: Hastes on, Evander from his lowly home Boon light awakes, and early songs of birds 622. "And eke the breathfule bellowes blew amaine." Spenser, F. Q., iv. 5, 36. See note on Geo. iv. l. 235. 631. Wagner says: "Audivi tamen homines rusticanos affirmantes, sæpe se hirundinum garrientium strepitu e somno excitari." There is no doubt that many others also have been awaked in the same way; the author certainly has suffered the annoyance himself. Martens and swallows are exceedingly noisy at break of day, especially when engaged in building. The British poets contain many passages of great beauty, descriptive of the early morning music of the feathered creation : "Me mette thus in my bed all naked, Chaucer, Booke of the Dutchesse. "Wake now, my love, awake; for it is time; The rosy Morne long since left Tithons bed, Allready to her silver coche to clyme; And Phoebus gins to shew his glorious hed. Hark! how the cheerefull birds do chaunt their laies, And carroll of loves praise. The merry larke hir mattins sings aloft; Spenser, Epithalamion. "Then from her burnish'd gate the goodly glitt'ring east Gilds every lofty top, which late the humorous night Bespangled had with pearl, to please the morning's sight: On which the mirthful quires, with their clear open throats, Unto the joyful morn so strain their warbling notes, That hills and valleys ring, and even the echoing air Seems all compos'd of sounds, about them every where." Drayton, Polyolbion, Song xiii. Beneath the roof. Up springs the aged [king], And with a tunic o'er his limbs is robed, "Now Morn, her rosy steps with eastern clime Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan, Milton, P. L., b. v. 1-8. The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, bed." The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly Gray, Elegy, 5. "Lull'd by the drowsy din in sleep I lay, Till from the East pale gleam'd the dubious day; Till chanticleer his merry notes begun, Thrice clapt his wings, and call'd the lingering Sun. Rous'd by his orisons from sweet repose, I shook off slumbers as the morning rose; The morning rose, but shed a languid light, And down in ocean sunk the queen of night. Then jackdaws chatter'd on the chimney high; And cranes pursued their voyage thro' the sky. Perch'd on a tree that nigh my chamber grew, The kite began her lamentable pew, Whereby the dawning of the day I knew." Fawkes, Translation of Gawin Douglas' Winter. To this and Douglas' other beautiful poem, on May, it is easy to see that Milton owed no small obligations. "Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chalic'd flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes; With every thing that pretty is: My lady sweet, arise; Arise, arise." Shakespeare, Cymbeline, ii. 3. "How is't each bough a several music yields? The lusty throstle, early nightingale, Accord in tune, though vary in their tale; The chirping swallow call'd forth by the sun, And crested lark doth his division run? The yellow bees the air with murmur fill, The finches carol, and the turtles bill?" Ben Jonson, Vision of Delight. "See, the day regins to break, 661 Not far away from this is peopled, reared Now the birds begin to rouse, Many a note and many a lay." J. Fletcher, The Faithful Shepherdess, iv. 5. "What bird so sings, yet does so wail? O, 'tis the ravish'd nightingale. Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu she cryes, And still her woes at midnight rise. Brave prick-song! Who is't now we hear? None but the lark so shrill and clear; Now at heaven's gates she claps her wings, The morn not waking till she sings. Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat Poor robin redbreast times his note; Hark, how the jolly cuckoes sing Cuckoe, to welcome in the Spring." Lilly, Alexander and Campaspe. See Weber's note on "Song by Delight;" Ford's Sun's Darling, ii. 1. |