He shows what seasons smile, to delve the plain, | When, those behind impelling those before,
To set the plant, or sow the scatter'd grain.
'Twas he, that placed those glittering signs on
high,
Those stars, dispers'd throughout the circling sky;
From these the seasons and the times appear,
The labours, and the harvests of the year.
Hence men to him their thankful homage raise,
Him, first and last, their theme of joy and praise.
Hail, Father! wondrous! whence all blessings
spring!
Thyself the source of every living thing!
Oh of mellifluous voice! ye Muses hear!
And, if my prayer may win your gracious ear,
Your inspiration, all ye Muses, bring,
And aid my numbers, while the stars I sing.
PROGNOSTICS OF WEATHER.
BE this the sign of wind: with rolling sweep
High swells the sea; long roarings echo deep
From billow-breaking rocks; shores murmur
shrill,
![[ocr errors]](https://books.google.com.my/books/content?id=MkkQAAAAIAAJ&output=html_text&pg=PA233&img=1&zoom=3&hl=en&q=editions:HARVARD32044092984988&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U20OOqR9Zy1aV4DRE1Go4lVvE86_A&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=496,310,9,21)
On the still sea they slowly float to shore.
Watch summer thunders break, or lightnings fly,
Wind threatens from that quarter of the sky:
And, where the shooting stars, in gloomy night,
Draw through the heavens a tract of snowy light,
Expect the coming wind; but, if in air
The meteors cross, shot headlong here and there,
From various points observe the winds arise,
And thwarting blasts blow diverse from the skies.
When lightnings in the north and south appear,
And east and west, the mariner should fear
Torrents of air, and foamings of the main;
These numerous lightnings flash o'er floods of rain.
And oft, when showers are threat'ning from on
high,
The clouds, like fleeces, hang beneath the sky:
Girding heaven's arch, a double rainbow bends,
Or, round some star, a black'ning haze extends:
The birds of marsh, or sea, insatiate lave,
And deeply plunge, with longings for the wave:
Swift o'er the pool the fluttering swallows rove,
And beat their breasts the ruffled lake above:
Hoarse croak the fathers of the reptile brood,
Though calm from storm, and howls the topmost Of gliding water-snakes the fearful food:
The heron with unsteady motion flies,
And shoreward hastes, with loud and piercing
cries;
Borne o'er the deep, his flapping pinions sail,
While air is ruffled by the rising gale.
The coots, that wing through air serene their way,
'Gainst coming winds condense their close array.
The diving cormorants and wild-ducks stand,
And shake their dripping pinions on the sand:
And oft, a sudden cloud is seen to spread,
With length'ning shadow, o'er the mountain's
head.
By downy-blossom'd plants, dishevell'd strown,
And hoary thistles' tops, is wind foreshown:
At break of day, the desert-haunting owl
Lengthens from far her solitary howl:
The clamouring crow is perch'd, where high the
shore
With jutting cliff o'erhangs the ocean roar;
Or with dipp'd head the river wave divides,
Dives whole-immers'd, or, cawing, skims the tides.
Nor less the herds for coming rain prepare,
And skyward look, and snuff the showery air.
On walls the slimy-creeping snails abound,
And earth-worms trail their length, the entrails
of the ground;
The cock's young brood ply oft the pluming bill,
And chirp, as drops from eves on tinkling drops
distil.
A NATIVE of Chalcis, and a celebrated poet of | epigrams and a few inconsiderable fragments, the age and court of Antiochus the Great. Three are all that remain of his writings.
A NATIVE of Rhodes, and said by Pausanias to | tas, at whose court he resided. Almost all his have been a familiar friend of Antigonus Gona- | writings are lost.
FROM HIS HYMN ON THE BATH OF MINERVA. THE STORY OF TIRESIAS.
In times of old, Minerva loved
A fair companion with exceeding love—
The mother of Tiresias; nor apart
Liv'd they a moment. Whether she her steeds
Drove to the Thespians old, or musky groves
Of Coronæa, and Curalius' banks,
That smoke with fragrant altars, or approach'd
To Haliartus, and Bootia's fields;
Still in the chariot by her side she placed
The nymph Chariclo; nor the prattlings sweet,
Nor dances of the nymphs, to her were sweet,
Unless Chariclo spoke, or led the dance.
Yet for the nymph Chariclo was reserved
A store of tears; for her, the favour'd Nymph,
The pleasing partner of Minerva's hours.
For once, on Helicon, they loosed the clasps That held their flowing robes, and bathed their limbs
In Hippocrene, that, beauteous, glided by; While noonday stillness wrapp'd the mountain round.
Both laved together; 'twas the time of noon;
And deep the stilly silence of the mount.
When, with his dogs of chase, Tiresias trod
That sacred haunt. The darkening down just
Upon his cheek. With thirst unutterable Panting, he sought that fountain's gushing stream, Unhappy; and, involuntary, saw
What mortal eyes, not blameless, may behold.
* One of these, on the consecration of Queen Berenice's hair in the temple of Venus, is known to us by the Latin version of Catullus.
With both her arms, her son so dearly loved;
And utter'd lamentation, with shrill voice,
And plaintive, like the mother nightingale.
The Goddess felt compassion for the Nymph,
The partner of her soul, and softly said:
"Retract, divinest woman! what thy rage
Erring, has utter'd. 'Tis not I that smite
Thy son with blindness. Pallas hath no joy
To rob from youths the lustre of their eyes.
The laws of Saturn thus decree-Whoe'er
Looks on a being of immortal race,
Unless the willing God consent, must look
Thus, at his peril, and atoning pay
The dreadful penalty. This act of fate,
Divinest woman, may not be recall'd.
So spun the Destinies his mortal thread
When thou didst bear him. Son of Everus!
Take then thy portion. But, what hecatombs
Shall Aristæus and Autonoë,
Hereafter, on the smoking altars lay,
So that the youth Acteon, their sad son,
Might be but blind, like thee! for know that
![[blocks in formation]](https://books.google.com.my/books/content?id=MkkQAAAAIAAJ&output=html_text&pg=PA236&img=1&zoom=3&hl=en&q=editions:HARVARD32044092984988&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U36oH6Y1SVhb0KukIPktfaerHvUww&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=87,994,413,217)
Receivest from the mount thy sightless son.
Oh weep no more, companion! for thy sake
I yet have ample recompense in store
For this thy son. Behold! I bid him rise
A prophet: far o'er every seer renown'd
To future ages. He shall read the flights
Of birds, and know whatever on the wing
Hovers auspicious, or ill-omen'd flies,
Or void of auspice. Many oracles
To the Baotians shall his tongue reveal;
To Cadmus, and the great Labdacian tribe.
I will endow him with a mighty staff,
To guide his steps aright; and I will give
A lengthen'd boundary to his mortal life;
And, when he dies, he only, midst the dead,
Shall dwell inspired, and, honoured by that king
Who rules the shadowy people of the grave."
She spoke, and gave the nod; what Pallas wills
Is sure: in her, of all his daughters, Jove
Bade all the glories of her father shine.
Maids of the bath! no mother brought her forth;
Sprung from the head of Jove. Whate'er the
head
Of Jove, inclining, ratifies, the same
Stands firm; and thus his daughter's nod is fate.
She comes! in very truth, Minerva comes! Receive the goddess, damsels! ye, whose hearts, With tender ties, your native Argos binds, With vows, and shouts. Hail, Goddess! oh proReceive the goddess! with exulting hails,
Inachian Argos! hail! and, when thou turn'st Thy coursers hence, or hitherward again, Guidest thy chariot-wheels, oh! still preserve The fortunes of the race from Danaus sprung!
ON A BROTHER AND SISTER. WE buried him at dawn of day: Ere set of sun his sister lay
Self-slaughtered by his side. Poor Basilé! she could not bear Longer to breathe the vital air,
When Melanippus died.
Thus in one fatal hour was left,
Of both a parent's hopes bereft,
Their desolated sire;
While all Cyrene mourned to see
The blossoms of her stateliest tree
By one fell blight expire.
NICENETUS OF SAMOS.-DIOSCORIDES.
The cares of life were yet to him unknown;
Glad were his hours, his sky unclouded shone;
But Plato's reason caught his youthful eye,
And fixed his soul on immortality.
THE VIRGIN'S OFFERING TO VENUS.*
A SHELL, Zephyritis, is all that I am,
First fruits from Selena to thee.
Time was, that a nautilus gaily I swam,
And steer'd my light bark on the sea.
Then hoisting my own little yards and my sail,
I swam the soft breeze as it came,
And rowed with my feet, if a calm did prevail,
And thus, Cypris, got I my name.
But cast by the waves on the Iülian shore,
I am sent for a plaything to thee,
Now lifeless;-the sea-loving halcyon no more
Shall brood on the waters for me.
Arsinöe! oh, may all grace from thy hand
On Clinias' daughter alight;
From Smyrna she sends in Æolia's land,
And sweet be her gift in thy sight
It was a custom among the Greek girls on the eve of marriage, to consecrate some favourite toy of their childish years to Venus, and happy might the bride esteem herself, if, like our Selena, the daughter of Clinias, she had it in her power to present, from her cabinet of shells THEY told me, Heracleitus, thou wert dead; and marine curiosities, a tribute so magnificent as that And then I thought, and tears thereon did shed, of the shining conch of the nautilus. The Venus Zephy-How oft we two talked down the sun; but thou, ritis, (so called from the promontory of Zephyrion, near Alexandria, where her temple stood,) was also called Chloris and Arsionöe, and, in fact, was no other than the deified wife of Ptolemy Philadelphus.-See Notes of
Halicarnassian guest! art ashes now.
Yet live thy nightingales of song; on those
All-plundering Death shall ne'er his hand im-
THE PRECEPT OF CRATINUS. Ir with water you fill up your glasses, You'll never write anything wise; For wine is the horse of Parnassus,
Which hurries a bard to the skies.
THE FETE CHAMPETRE.
NOT in the city be my banquet spread,
The zephyr may float freely: be my seat
The mossy platform of some green retreat,
Where shrubs and creepers, starting at my
side,
May furnish cushion smooth and carpet wide.
Let wine be serv'd us, and the warbling lyre
Trill forth soft numbers of the Muses' choir;
That we, still drinking, and our hearts con-
tenting,
But in sweet meadows, where around my head And still to dulcet tunes new hymns inventing,
Horace says of this jovial philosopher :-
"Prisco si credis, Mecenas docte, Cratino,
Nulla placere diu nec vivere carmina possunt,
Quæ scribuntur aquæ potoribus!"
And Aristophanes tells us that he died of vexation at
seeing a jar of good wine broken.
May sing Jove's bride, from whom these pleasures come,
The guardian Goddess of our island home.*
* The favourite abode of Juno was in the island of Samos, where was also her most ancient temple.
DIOSCORIDES flourished at Alexandria, under Pto- | epigrams, but most of them too trivial, or unbecom. lemy Euergetes. He has bequeathed us about fortying in character, to repay the labours of translation.
THE PERSIAN SLAVE TO HIS MASTER.
O MASTER! shroud my body, when I die,
In decent cerements, from the vulgar eye.
But burn me not upon yon funeral pyre,
Nor dare the gods and desecrate their fire:
I am a Persian; 'twere a Persian's shame
To dip his body in the sacred flame.
|