Swear, that th' assistance which our arms shall lend, Shall no immortal angry god offend." [wide He spoke; when straight tow'rd Heaven disclosing His sightless balls, the senior thus replied:

"My son, th' injustice of thy tongue restrain, Nor let such thoughts thy pious soul profane : By Phoebus, heavenly augur, who inspires My conscious bosom with prophetic fires; By this my wretched lot of woe and care, These eyes involv'd in darkening clouds, I swear, By the fell demons of the realms below, Whom ever unpropitious may I know, From their resentments not in death secure, If falsely their dread godheads I adjure: That your assisting hands shall never move Wrath or displeasure in the powers above." Then acquiescing in the solemn prayer, To aid the prophet Boreas' sons prepare. The ready youth a banquet spread, the last That those fell harpies were decreed to taste: Nigh stand the brothers, ardent to oppose With glittering falchions their invading foes. But scarce the first sweet morsel Phineus took, When from the clouds with swift prevention broke, Swift as the lightning's glance, or stormy blast Whose rapid fury lays the forest waste, Shrill clamouring for their prey the birds obscene. The watchful heroes shouting rush'd between; But they with speediest rage the cates devour'd, And round intolerable odours pour'd; Then o'er th' Egean far away they flew; Upspringing swift with threatening blades pursue The feather'd chiefs. That day Saturnius steel'd Their vigorous nerves with force untaught to yield; And did not Jove their wearying strength sustain, Their flitting pinions had they spread in vain : For when to Phineus furions they repair, Or quitting Phineus seek the fields of air, The light-wing'd monsters, fleeter than the wind, Leave the impetuous zephyrs far behind. As when the hound experienc'd in the chase, Through some wide forest o'er the scented grass A bounding hind or horned goat pursues, And near his parting prey, and nearer views; Eager he stretches the short space to gain, And, snapping, grinds his gnashing fangs in vain : So ever-near th' insulting chiefs pursued; The harpies so their catching hands elude. But now far off in the Sicilian main, By the wing'd brothers, sons of Boreas, slain, The race of harpies (though Heaven disallow'd) Had stain'd the Plotian isles with sacred blood; Their sore distress had Iris not survey'd, And, darting from the skies, the heroes staid. "O sons of Boreas, the dread laws above Permit ye not to wound the dogs of Jove. And, lo! my oath I pledge, that never more Shall those fell dogs approach Bithynia's shore." This said, adjuring the tremendous floods, Most fear'd, most honour'd, by th' immortal gods: By the slow-dripping urn of Styx she swore, The prophet's peaceful mansions evermore From those rapacious spoilers should be free; Such was the fatal sister's fixt decree. The goddess swore, the brothers straight obey, And back to Argo wing their airy way. The Strophades from thence derive their name, The Plotian islands styl'd by ancient fame. Then part the harpies and Thaumantian maid, In thousand various mingling dyes array'd.

These to the grots retir'd and dark retreat Of Dicte's caverns in Minoian Crete : While the gay goddess of the watery bow Gain'd in a moment high Olympus' brow.

Meanwhile the princes in the cleansing wave With purifying rites their senior lave. Next from the spoil, which on Bybricia's shore From vanquish'd Amycus stern Pollux tore, A victim they select with pious care; And sooth the gods with sacrifice and prayer. Then in the palace each heroic guest Partakes the pleasure of the sumptuous feast. With them sate Phineus, and refresh'd his soul With savoury viands and the cheering bowl. Unsatiated he feeds, and bathes in streams Of ecstasy beyond the bliss of dreams.

THE HYMN OF CLEANTHES'.
O UNDER Various sacred names ador'd!
Divinity supreme! all potent lord!
Author of Nature! whose unbounded sway
And legislative power all things obey!
Majestic Jove! all hail! To thee belong
The suppliant prayer, and tributary song;
To thee from all thy mortal offspring due;
From thee we came, from thee our being drew;
Whatever lives and moves, great sire! is thine,
Embodied portions of the soul divine.
Therefore to thee will I attune my string,
And of thy wondrous power for ever sing.
The wheeling orbs, the wandering fires above,
That round this earthly sphere incessant move,
Through all this boundless world admit thy sway,
And roll spontaneous where thou point'st the way.
Such is the awe imprest on Nature round
When through the void thy dreadful thunders sound,
Those flaming agents of thy matchless power:
Astonish'd worlds hear, tremble, and adore.
Thus paramount to all, by all obey'd,
Ruling that reason which through all convey'd
Informs this general mass, thou reign'st ador'd,
Supreme, unbounded, universal lord.

For nor in earth, nor earth-encircling floods,
Nor yon ethereal pole, the seat of gods,
Is aught perform'd without thy aid divine;
Strength, wisdom, virtue, mighty Jove, are thine!
Vice is the act of man, by passion tost,
And in the shoreless sea of folly lost:
But thou, what vice disorders, canst compose,
And profit by the malice of thy foes;
So blending good with evil, fair with foul,
As hence to model one harmonious whole:
One universal law of truth and right;
But wretched mortals shun the heavenly light;
And, though to bliss directing still their choice,
Hear not, or heed not, Reason's sacred voice,

1 Cleanthes, the author of this hymn, was a Stoic philosopher, a disciple of Zeno. He wrote many pieces, none of which are come down to us, but this and a few fragments, which are printed by H. Stephens, in a collection of philosophical poems. This hymn was translated at the request. of a very learned and ingenious friend of mine, who was pleased to find such just sentiments of the deity in a heathen, and so much poetry in a philosopher.

That common guide ordain'd to point the road
That leads obedient man to solid good.
Thence, quitting Virtue's lovely paths, they rove,
As various objects various passions move.
Some through opposing crowds and threatening war
Seek Power's bright throne, and Fame's triumphal

car.

Some, bent on wealth, pursue with endless pain
Oppressive, sordid, and dishonest gain:
While others, to soft indolence resign'd,
Drown in corporeal sweets th' immortal mind.
But, O great father, thunder-ruling god!
Who in thick darkness mak'st thy dread abode !
Thou, from whose bounty all good gifts descend,
Do thou from ignorance mankind defend!
The clouds of vice and folly, O control;
And shed the beams of wisdom on the soul!
Those radiant beams, by whose all-piercing flame
Thy justice rules this universal frame.

That, honour'd with a portion of thy light,
We may essay thy goodness to requite
With honorary songs and grateful lays,

And hymn thy glorious work with ceaseless praise,
The proper task of man: and sure to sing
Of Nature's laws, and Nature's mighty king,
Is bliss supreme. Let gods with mortals join!
The subject may transport a breast divine.

THE

TRIUMPHS OF THE GOUT.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF

LUCIAN.

Or wrestling might I not the hurt receive,

O! where is Ocypus, illustrious youth? For lame, I hear, are his victorious feet;

Ocypus, the son of Podalirius and Astasia, was eminent for his strength and beauty, a great lover of hunting, and of all gymnastic exercises. This young man having been accustomed to insult and deride whomsoever he saw grievously afflicted with the gout, telling them at the same time that their pains were nothing, brought upon himself the indignation of the goddess who presides over that distemper, and was at last, by the violence of the disease, driven to a recantation. Lucian had composed an entire drama upon this subject; but as only the beginning of this piece remains, I have translated it, and, with very little alteration in either, have made it a part of his other drama, whose subject is the triumph of the gout over physic,

But see! where, careless on the couch diffus'd,
Supine he lies!-Heaven grant thee health, my son,
And to thy feet restore their wonted strength!
Declare to me, O Ocypus, the cause
Of thy complaint: perhaps my powerful art
May for thy anguish find some quick relief.

OCY PUS.

Intolerable pain my foot consumes.

PHYSICIAN.

Whence came? how? what accident?explain.

OCY PUS.

Or in the straining race, or haply while My gymnic exercises I perform'd, Some hurt from my companions I receiv'd.

PHYSICIAN.

Then where's the sore and angry inflammation? And why no fomentation on the part?

OCYPUS.

The woollen bandage I abhor.

NURSE.

Alas!

How baneful is the pride of handsome looks!

PHYSICIAN.

In hunting after this and that solution,
But can't mistake the nature of his evil.
And now hear this, howe'er unpleasing truth,
"At length with vengeance due, 't is come upon

thee."

OCY PUS.

Thy tumid foot? But, Ocypus, be sure
If once I seize upon it, I shall drain,
At many bleeding wounds, thy arteries.

NURSE.

The Gout, O wretched Ocypus, whose pangs And gnawing tortures thou didst once deride.

OCYPUS.

But what, O skilful artist, what say'st thou?

PHYSICIAN.

Farewell; to serve thee I neglect myself.

OCYPUS.

What accident or business calls thee hence?

PHYSICIAN.

Into a cureless evil thou art fall'n.

OCYPUS.

Must I then, ever lame, tormented ever, Drag on a life of everlasting woe?

PHYSICIAN.

Fear not thou shalt not be for ever lame.

OCYPUS.

What worse have I to fear?

PHYSICIAN.

On either leg Her galling fetters will the goddess bind.

OCYPUS.

Alas! in t' other sympathising foot

Gout, rueful Gout! of sad Cocytus born!
Whom in the mirky caves of Tartarus
The fiend Megara in her womb conceiv'd,
And nourish'd at her breast: Alecto too
With her fell milk the wayward infant fed.
But oh what god brought thy disastrous power
To taint this light, and harass human kind?
If punishment condign pursue the dead,
For crimes committed in their days of nature,
What need was there in Pluto's dreary realms
With streams forbidden Tantalus to vex ?
To whirl Ixion on the giddy wheel?
And weary Sisyphus with fruitless toil?
It sure had been sufficient punishment
Had each offender the sharp pains endur'd,
That tear this meagre miserable carcase:
While through th' obstructed pores the struggling

To tender Attis, beardless boy,

The howling Phrygian throng
On Cybele's high mountain chant
Th' enthusiastic song.

On yellow Tmolus' flowery top
The Lydian youth around
For Comus mix the warbling voice
And flute's melodious sound.

With clashing arms, in frantic mood,
The mad Idæan train
Attemper to the Cretan dance

Their holy ritual strain.

To Mars, the furious god of war,
The swelling trumpets breathe,
Preluding to contentious strife,

To battle, blood, and death.
But we, O Gout, afflictive power!
We, thy sad votaries,

In sighs and groans to thee perform
Our annual sacrifice:

When usher'd by the blushing hours
The genial spring appears;
And every flower-embroider'd vale
Its verdant mantle wears:

When Zephyr on each pregnant tree.
Calls forth the tender leaves;
And her sad nest the swallow builds
Beneath the friendly eaves:

When in the grove, at midnight hour,
Disconsolate, alone,

For Itys lost th' Athenian bird

Renews her plaintive moan.

[Exit Chorus.

SCENE, A CHAMBER.

Ocypus solus.

OCYPUS.

Come, O my comfort, my supporter, come, My staff, my third best leg, O! now uphold My tottering footsteps, and direct my way, That lightly on the earth my foot may tread. Wretch, from thy pallet raise thy heavy limbs, And quit the cover'd closeness of the room. Dispel the cloud, that weighs thy eyelids down, In open day, and in the golden Sun, On purer air thy enliven'd spirit feast. For now my willing mind invites me forth; But the weak flesh refuses to comply. Be resolute, my soul; for well thou know'st, The gouty wretch, that would but cannot move, Ought to be number'd with th' inactive dead. Come on. [Exit Ocypus.

Scene changes.

Enter Ocypus, who discovers the Chorus before a temple offering sacrifices to the Gout, with music and dancing. Dance.

OCYPUS.

But who are they, whose hands with crutches fill'd, Whose tossing heads with eldern garlands bound, Seem in wild dance some feast to celebrate? Do they to thee, Apollo, Pæans sing? Then would the Delphic laurel shade their brows. Or chant they rather Bacchanalian hymns? Then would their temples be with ivy wreath'd. Whence are ye, strangers? speak: the truth declare.

Declare, O friends, what deity ye worship.

CHORUS.

But who art thou, who mak'st us this demand? Thou too, as from thy crutch may be inferr'd, And hobbling pace, thou art a votary Of the invincible divinity.

OCYPUS.

I am; nor am unworthy of the name.

CHORUS.

When Cyprian Venus, queen of love,
In pearly dews fell from above,
Nereus amass'd her scatter'd frame,
And form'd the fair-proportion'd dame.
Fast by the fountains of the deep,
Where on their ouze the surges sleep,
On her broad bosom Tethys laid
The partner of Jove's regal bed.
Minerva, virgin bold and wise,
From the great monarch of the skies,
Saturnian Jove, her birth receiv'd,
In his immortal brain conceiv'd.
But old Ophion, hoary god,

Our goddess first embrac'd,
First in his fond paternal arms
The mighty infant plac'd.

What time primeval Chaos ceas'd,

And Night eternal fled;

Bright rose the Morning, and the Sun
His new-born radiance shed.

Then from the womb of Fate sprung forth
The Gout's tremendous power,

Heaven with portentous thunders rung,
And hail'd her natal hour

Clotho receiv'd and swath'd the babe,

Thence at the streaming breast Of Wealth by fostering Plutus fed, Her awful force increas'd.

OCYPUS.

Say by what rites mysterious to her altar Doth the dread power her votaries admit ?

CHORUS.

Nor with the biting steel ourselves we wound 3, Or sprinkle with our blood the hallow'd ground: Nor are our necks with galling collars worn; Or livid backs with sounding scourges torn: Nor at the altar, when the victim dies, Gorge we the raw and bleeding sacrifice: But when the Spring the rising sap impells, And the young elm with genial moisture swells, When in the hedges on the budding spray The blackbird modulates her various lay: Then unperceiv'd she drives her piercing dart, And wounds the inmost sense with secret smart ; The hip, the nervous thigh, the ancles swell, The bending knee, and firm-supporting heel: The strong-knit shoulder and the sinewy arm, And hand mechanic, feel th' intestine harm; Through every joint the thrilling anguish pours, And gnaws, and burns, and tortures, and devours; Till length of suffering the dire power appease, And the fierce torments at her bidding cease.

Lives there on Earth to whom I am unknown,
Unconquerable queen of mighty woes?
Whom nor the fuming censer can appease,
Nor victim's blood on blazing altars pour'd.
Me not Apollo's self with all his drugs,

High Heav'n's divine physician, can subdue;
Nor his learn'd son, wise Esculapius.
Yet, ever since the race of man began,
All have essay'd my fury to repel,
Racking th' invention of still-baffled physic.
Some this receipt 'gainst me, some that explore.
Plantane they bruise, the parsley's odorous herb,
The lenient lettuce, and the purslain wild;
These bitter horehound, and the watery plant
That on the verdant banks of rivers grows;
Those nettles crush, and comfrey's viscid root,
And pluck the lentils in the standing pools;
Some parsnips, some the glossy leaf apply

That shades the downy peach, benumbing henbane,
The poppies' soothing gum, th' emollient bulb,
Rhind of the Punic apple, fleawort hot,
The costly frankincense, and searching root
Of potent hellebore, soft fenugreek
Temper'd with rosy wine, collamphacum,
Nitre and spawn of frogs, the cypress-cone,
And meal of bearded barley, and the leaf
Of coleworts unprepar'd, and ointments made
Of pickled garus, and (O vain conceit!)
The dung of mountain-goats and human ordure,
The flower of beans, and hot sarcophagus.
The poisonous ruddoc 4 some, and shrew-mouse boil,
The weasel some, the frog, the lizard green,
The fell byena, and the wily fox,

And branching stone-buck 5 bearded like a goat.
What kind of metals have ye left untried?
What juice? what weeping tree's medicinal tear
What beasts, what animals, have not bestow'd
Their bones, or nerves, or hides, or blood, or marrow,
Or milk, or fat, or excrement, or urine?
The draught of four ingredients some compose,
Some eight, but more from seven expect relief;
Some from the purging hiera seek their cure;
On mystic verses vainly some depend;
The tricking Jew gulls other fools with charms;
While to the cooling fountain others fly,
And in the crystal current seek for health.
But to all these fell anguish I denounce,
To all who tempt me ever more severe.
But they who patiently my visit take,
Nor seek to combat me with anodynes,
Still find me gentle and benevolent.
For in my rites whoe'er participates,
His tongue with eloquence I straight endow,
And teach him with facetious wit to please,
A merry, gay, jocose companion boon,
Round whom the noisy crowd incessant laugh,
As to the baths the crippled wretch is borne.
For that dire Até, of whom Homer sings,
That dreaded powerful deity am I :
Who on the heads of men insulting tread,
And silent, soft, and unobserv'd, approach.
But as from me the acid drop descends,
The drop of anguish, I the Gout am call'd.
Now then, my votaries all, my orgies sing,
And praise with hymns th' unconquerable goddess.

CHORUS.

Hear, stubborn virgin, fierce and strong, Impracticable maid!

O listen to our holy song!

And grant thy servants aid!

Thy power, imperious dame, dismays
The monarch of the dead,
And strikes the ruler of the seas

And thundering Jove with dread,
Thee soft reposing beds delight

And flannels warm embrace,
And bandag'd legs nor swift in flight,
Nor victors in the race.

Thy flames the tumid ancles feel,
The finger maim'd, the burning heel,
And toe that dreads the ground.

4 A kind of red land-toad.

5 A beast with shaggy hair and a beard like a goat, but otherwise like a stag.